Miyabr0 - Mar !

| nanami kento x reader

| more of nanami as a househusband!

| #sfw #softnanami #fluff #sliceoflife

| around 2k

| ˏˋ°•*⁀➷: i need him…

nanami always woke up before you. it wasn't because he couldn't sleep-he could, now that life was quieter-but because he remembered what it was like. waking up before the sun, dragging himself to work, already dreading from the thought of another long day ahead. he knew how heavy mornings could feel, how the quiet hours before work stirred often felt like a burden instead of a gift.

so, he made it his mission to make mornings a little more tolerable for you.

the kettle hissed softly as it began to boil, the sound being the first thing that greeted the quiet morning. nanami moved through the kitchen with deliberate calm, sleeves neatly rolled and the pink linen apron you got him tied in a pretty bow at the back. he brewed the coffee, dark and strong, just the way you liked it, and poured it into the chipped mug you always claimed as yours.

he smiled to himself as he remembered how he once tried throwing the mug away after noticing the chipped marks, only to be met with you snatching it out of his hands, a pout on your face as you said, “this was the mug you got me on my first birthday with you.”

toast popped up from the toaster just as he placed a pan on the stove, the eggs cooking perfectly to the soft consistency he knew you preferred. everything he did was methodical and calculated, from the way he spread the jam on the fresh toast, to how he arranged the dishes on the table, so when you finally waddled into the kitchen, still drowsy and grumbling softly at the world, you wouldn’t have to think.

“good morning honey” he said, glancing up at you as you rubbed your eyes. “coffees ready” he would pat your seat on the dining table as he pushed your chair out for you to sit.

he watched as your gaze flickered to the table—perfectly set, a morning made just a little softer—and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of your lips. once you were seated, nanami tapped his cheek with a subtle motion, a small but unmistakable gesture. he never asked for much, but this was the only way he wanted to be thanked: a sweet kiss pressed to his cheek or lips before you began eating.

satisfied when you leaned over and obliged, he sat back and watched quietly as you ate the breakfast he had lovingly prepared, a soft warmth settling in his chest.

you finished the last bite of your breakfast, savoring the perfectly soft eggs and toast as nanami’s eyes flickered up from across the table, checking the time.

“you should start getting ready,” he murmured, voice soft but firm—an unspoken reminder that he knew your schedule almost as well as you did. with a quiet hum of agreement, you stood, his hand instinctively reaching to take your empty plate before you could even think to bring it to the sink.

“i’ve got this,” he said simply, rising to his feet as you headed toward the bathroom.

as the sound of running water filled the apartment, nanami busied himself cleaning up the kitchen. he moved efficiently, wiping down counters and rinsing plates, but still kept half an ear trained on you—listening for the faint thud of the shampoo bottle or the rush of the hair dryer. he wasn’t hovering, not really; he just liked knowing you were moving through the motions of your morning without stress.

by the time you emerged from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel, the smell of soap and shampoo lingering in the air, nanami was already waiting with a clean stack of clothes laid neatly on the bed.

“i thought this would work for today,” he said, nodding toward your work clothes—a thoughtfully coordinated outfit he’d pulled from your closet while you showered. he never picked anything too bold or too plain, just the kind of outfit you could put on without second-guessing.

“you’re too good to me,” you mumbled, hair still damp as you dropped onto the edge of the bed.

“hurry up,” he said with a faint smile, “or you’ll be late.”

you rolled your eyes at his precision but still moved to get dressed, slipping into your clothes as nanami quietly disappeared into the bathroom. he returned a moment later with your brush and hair dryer in hand.

“here,” he said, sitting beside you as he plugged in the dryer. “i’ll help.”

you blinked at him, surprised, but he only motioned for you to turn. his large hands were gentle as he ran the brush carefully through your hair, drying it in steady motions—never tugging or rushing, just working with the same patience he applied to everything else in life.

“it’s nice like this,” he murmured once your hair fell soft and smooth. he handed the brush back, standing as you reached for your makeup bag.

while you focused on applying your makeup, nanami moved quietly around the room—folding the towel you’d left draped on the chair, straightening the blanket, making sure your shoes and bag were exactly where you’d need them.

by the time you finished, you found him leaning against the doorframe, sleeves rolled and arms crossed, watching you with a calm, satisfied expression.

“ready?” he asked.

you nodded, smiling as you stood. he stepped forward to adjust your coat and scarf before tapping his cheek again—just like earlier.

“you’re not getting out the door without it,” he said, lips tugging into the faintest smirk.

you laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then a passionate kiss to his lips, the warmth of him lingering against your lips as you finally grabbed your bag.

“have a good day, i love you” nanami said quietly, walking you to the door. his hand rested briefly against the small of your back, grounding and gentle, before you stepped outside into the day he’d carefully set in motion for you.

as the door closed behind you, nanami stood for a moment, taking in the silence that settled over the apartment. he’d miss you while you were gone, of course, but there was laundry to fold, dinner to plan, and a new book to start.

besides, you’d be home soon enough, and he’d be right there waiting.

the apartment was quiet again, the kind of quiet that felt more like peace than emptiness. nanami moved through the rooms, his routine calm and measured, just as it always was. after a moment of reflection, he began folding the laundry, one piece of clothing at a time.

as he picked up your favorite sweater, a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he carefully folded the fabric, fingers brushing over the familiar soft texture. lifting the sweater to his nose, he inhaled deeply. the scent of your natural perfume—warm, sweet, and utterly you—still clung to the fabric, even though he had just washed it. it was subtle, like a memory lingering in the air, and nanami couldn’t help but smile fondly.

he loved that smell, loved how it somehow stayed with him long after you were gone.

as he folded a pair of your socks, his phone buzzed from the counter. pulling it from his pocket, he smiled when he saw your name flashing on the screen. it wasn’t a message—just a call, but he was always happy to hear from you.

as he folded a pair of your socks, his phone buzzed from the counter. pulling it from his pocket, nanami smiled when he saw your name flashing on the screen. it wasn’t a message—just a call, but he always looked forward to hearing your voice.

“hey, my love,” he answered, his voice warm and steady, just the way you liked it.

“hey, babe,” you replied, sounding a little tired but happy to hear him. “how’s your day going?”

“good, just keeping busy,” he said, folding the last of the laundry. “i made your bento this morning—did you eat it yet?”

he could hear you pause, and then you responded with a light laugh, “yeah, it was really good.”

nanami smiled, feeling a warm satisfaction in his chest. “i’m glad. you’re working hard, so you deserve something good.”

“you always make the best lunches, love,” you said, and he could hear the affection in your voice.

“it’s nothing, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice soft. “i just want to make sure you’re taken care of. did you get through your morning okay?”

“yeah, it’s been busy, but i’m hanging in there. i’m just counting down to when i can see you tonight,” you said with a small sigh.

“i’ll be right here when you get home,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “what would you like for dinner? something light, or do you want me to cook something a little heartier?”

“something light sounds perfect, actually. i’ll be so tired when i get home,” you said.

“whatever you want, darling,” nanami replied. “you just focus on your day. i’ve got everything else handled.”

“i love you,” you said softly, and nanami’s heart melted at the words.

“i love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face. “i’ll see you soon.”

after the call ended, nanami set his phone down and turned to the stack of laundry he’d already folded. the house was tidy now, and there was still plenty of time before you’d be home. so, he picked up the book you’d recommended to him.

he settled into his favorite chair by the window, sunlight streaming through the blinds and catching on the edges of the pages. it was a new book, one you’d suggested a few weeks ago. he hadn’t started it until today, but he’d been looking forward to it. he couldn’t remember the last time he had sat down to read for pleasure, but with everything in order, he was glad to start.

as he flipped through the first few pages, he thought of you again—how you always took time to recommend things to him, things you knew he would enjoy. he was eager to see how the story would unfold, just as he was eager to hear about your day when you got home.

the hours passed by slowly, but he never minded the wait. he had a book to enjoy, the sound of your voice still warm in his mind, and a dinner plan to make.

When your whole crew doesn't know a damn thing

Osamu Miya (23) owner of Onigiri Miya, your hand in marriage PLEASE

this tweet was the inspo btw:

drawing Nanamin and Yuuji-cub makes me weak

ㅤ. @ like or reblog if you save!!!

If Gojo, Shoko and Geto had adopted Tsumiki and Megumi

on the way ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ k. sakusa

masterlist

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, grief, awkwardness/tension, family member death, funeral, mentions of a dysfunctional family

a/n: me stop writing abt dead brothers challenge failed. sorry im coping still.

word count: 1.6k

07:00AM

His alarm goes off. It’s dreary and gray outside. Her body’s absent from the left side of the bed.

It doesn’t take very long to find her, and Sakusa doesn’t try very hard. He rolls out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and drags his feet into the living room. She’s standing out the window, looking out of it. He’s not surprised. Staring out windows silently, pensively, is a lot of what she’s been doing lately.

Sakusa approaches her from behind. She doesn’t flinch or acknowledge when his arms snake around her middle. “Are you going to get ready soon?”

08:43AM

They’re late. Thirteen minutes late to leaving. Sakusa doesn’t make a thing out of it, like he normally would. He doesn’t say anything at all as she climbs into the passenger seat and unceremoniously throws her back into the backseat. Sakusa figures that’s his cue that he’s the one driving. He doesn’t complain about this, like he normally would.

Once he’s settled in the driver’s seat, he takes a moment to wrap a wide hand around her knee, squeezing slightly, even though they’re running late. She doesn’t react. Sakusa looks at her, lips pursed together like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction from her. He’s been waiting for a reaction since the news broke. “You ready?” he asks.

She turns her head to look at him with her eyes dry and decorated with heavy, purple shadows. “Yeah,” she replies, voice devoid of animation, flat and stale. “Let’s go.”

Her grief makes him uncomfortable. Sakusa can only think of how uncomfortable it makes him as he pulls away from their home. He knows this makes him bad person. Or at least, it’s a bad feeling for him to have. He knows that he should be supportive, whatever that means, and that he should be a partner she can rely on.

Whatever that means. Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet.

It might be easier if she cried. He would at least know what to do then. He could take her in his arms and tell her it’s okay to cry and he would make her some of her favorite food and do things that loving, doting partners do in times of grief and sorrow. But she hasn’t cried. She hasn’t done anything but stare out the window and become a whittled down, blank version of herself.

He feels like all he can do is stare and wait. Just watching as she slowly dissolves, day-by-day.

The car pulls onto a main road. There’s traffic.

09:32AM

She doesn’t play music. None of her aggressive and headache inducing rock music or bubbly and headache inducing pop music. It’s just silence. The wind that sneaks in through the backseat window that never fully closes, and Sakusa’s breathing.

There’s nothing else.

He keeps looking at her, glancing at her for just a second when the road in front of him is clear. He’s taking stock of her expression, checking for slight changes and variations. But each time he looks, her lips are slightly downturned, eyes half-closed, cheek resting in the palm of her hand.

She’s unmoving, statuesque.

Sakusa watched when she got the call. He saw in real time as her mind started to shut down. With her phone pressed against her ear, standing in the kitchen with a half-cooked pot of curry, he watched as any traces of joy or excitement slip off face like melting snow plummeting off a roof. “Oh,” is what she said, “thanks for telling me.” That was all Sakusa heard before she hung up and turned to deliver the news back to him.

“My brother’s dead.”

He took hold of her at once. He whispered condolences into her hair, and he felt her shake but he never heard her sob or cry or anything.

She’s looked the same since then. She looks the same now.

He steals another glance at her, hoping for something different. It’s the same.

10:04AM

 She talks. Sakusa feels like it’s the first time she’s talked in days.

“He used to carry me around the neighborhood on his shoulders,” she says, out of nowhere. It makes him jump, slightly, before he steadies the steering wheel. He glances again. She still hasn’t moved. “His friends used to pick on me a lot but he always defended me. One time I caught him smoking cigarettes behind the house, and I pretended like I was going to tell our mom, but I didn’t. When my mom disappeared, he made sure I still went to school. Packed my lunches and everything. And when I was really little, I remember being confused. Because sometimes he felt like my brother, but a lot of the time he really just felt like my dad.”

Sakusa’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. He thought he would have something to say, but he doesn’t. Nothing feels right.

10:36AM

They’re late. Sakusa has a nervous pit in his stomach about this, but everyone else in her family is later than them.

She hugs her mom, looking stiff as she does, and returns to Sakusa’s side as soon as the awkward embrace is over. He holds onto her hand and doesn’t let it go for the rest of the service.

He listens to people talk about him. Sakusa never met her brother, never knew him personally, but it seems like the him that existed to everyone else didn’t exist to her. They get up there and they talk about him and the dark path he was on and how far he had strayed and how he was so untouchable, unsavable.

She’s stiff beside him the entire time. It seems like she’s holding her breath. Sakusa has to lean down and whisper in her ear, “Breathe.”

Her shoulders rise and fall.

11:49AM

She looks smaller in her childhood home, but she moves around it like she’s too big for the space. Sakusa still won’t let go over her hand.

In her brother’s childhood room, she flicks through piles of CDs and old mangas. There’s posters for bands Sakusa’s never heard of on the wall. There’s a half-full jar of foreign coins and trash that still hasn’t been emptied. Sakusa feels that it is all too intimately human.

Her fingers graze along the spine of a book that’s shoved under small television on his dresser. Love is a Dog from Hell. “He never read this,” she comments, lifting her fingers away. The tips of them are coated in dust. “He stole it from me, and then never gave it back.”

Sakusa watches her carefully. Her shoulders are more relaxed in this space, and there is a ghost of a smile on her face. He doesn’t want to make her leave, but he knows she can’t stay here, surrounded by memories and dust. “Do you want to take anything home?” he asks.

This makes her frown, and he doesn’t know why. “I can’t just take it from him,” she tells him, sounding so small.

She doesn’t need to take anything, anyways. Her mother prepared a small box of belongings that she thought her daughter would appreciate it. She shoves it into her arms on the way out, and it finds itself stuffed into Sakusa’s trunk.

12:59PM

She wanted to leave early, so they left early. She wanted to drive home, so Sakusa let her drive home.

She put in a CD for the drive home. It’s sad. If Sakusa felt like he knew better, he’d tell her that maybe they shouldn’t listen to something so depressing. That maybe they should let the radio play or they could talk about something. But Sakusa doesn’t feel like he knows anything.

He doesn’t feel like he even knows her, right now. Not shrouded in grief, not with this black veil pulled over her eyes. He doesn’t know what’s best for her. He doesn’t know how to help her or how to make anything better, even slightly.

He reaches over the center console and lets his hand rest on her thigh. He leaves it there this time. He doesn’t know if she appreciates it or likes the comfort or if she even notices at all. But he leaves his hand there, and hopes it does something.

03:02PM

They get home. She goes inside without grabbing the box. Sakusa gets it for her, and puts it somewhere where she won’t have to see it, if she doesn’t want to.

05:22PM

Sakusa cooks dinner. Her favorite. Definitely not curry. She eats it in small bites, and then takes a shower that lasts too long. He cleans, and listens for the sounds of her.

07:54PM

She’s in bed already. Funerals take a lot out of you, he figures. He joins her, if for no other reason that he doesn’t want her to be alone. She’s on the let side. He’s on the right.

His arms snake around her middle. He pulls her closer and kisses the side of her face. “I love you,” he tells her, because it’s true, and he wants her to know it. Even if he’s useless. Even if all he can do is watch.

He can almost feel it cracking in her chest. The way it boils over. She inhales sharply, and says, “Kiyoomi,” in a pitch or two higher than she normally speaks, like she’s out of breath. “I really miss him. I miss my brother.”

Sakusa tightens her arms around her as the sobs let loose. It rocks through her violently, and he holds her through it all. “I know,” he whispers back. “I know.”

snow days with katsuki<33

you loved surprising your husband. while he was not particularly one for surprises, he had to admit that yours were often endearing as hell. a homemade cake for his birthday—simple, not too sweet and full of love. exactly how he liked it.

you’d gift him little trinkets you’d found when he came home from patrol. you’d prep his coffee the night before so he could wake up and just start the machine. you were thoughtful, and he loved that about you.

after a few inches of snow, katsuki sat in his office, perusing some papers with his glasses on. he looked so sexy with his muscled arms and thick thighs. you peek your head through the door, rapping your knuckles against the oak wood.

“‘tsuki?”

“yeah?”

and he smiles at your giggles, his pouty face upturning as he looks at you with a squint, “what’re you laughing at, huh?”

“just, look out your window!”

katsuki looks confused for a moment, before he’s shaking his head with a grin. another one of your antics, of course, he prattles on as he swings the curtains open. and there it was: your surprise.

‘I LOVE YOU KATSUKI!’

there it was, written in the snow in big bulky letters. he could even see your footsteps that trailed along the side of the message, your cute feet making adorable imprints in the reflective ice.

katsuki feels a warm rush go straight to his heart. he didn’t get sappy, didn’t get overly-emotional. but you, with your little surprises, well, he couldn’t help but get the slightest bit choked up. you really loved him.

he bounds over to you and swings you up into his arms, hands slipping to cradle your bare stomach as he kisses you in a frenzy, “fuckin’ love you.”

“i love you too!”

but katsuki couldn’t just let this slide. no, he couldn’t! which was why, when you woke up that next morning, you find your husband curled up on the couch with his head nodding towards the door.

“go check the porch out,” he grumbles, flicking through his phone while trying to hide his smirk.

“oh? what have you got planned, hmm?”

and you’re opening the door, grin widening as you spot carefully carved letters written in the snow.

‘I LOVE YOU,’ with your name written right next to it.

your cheeks flush and you suddenly feel so shy as your man comes behind you and pulls you flush against his hips.

“oh, katsuki, you didn’t have to—“

“yeah, but i wanted to. ‘sides, ‘s about time i give you a surprise back, yeah?”

and he’s scooping you into your arms and carrying you past the threshold of the front door into the warmth of your home.