#{{ my baby...

It’s very early. Too early for you to be up and leaving the comfort of your bed. You consider closing your eyes again, but you realize that Satoru is here. With you, separated by the walls of your bedroom. After weeks of endless late nights and waking up beside an empty bed, suddenly the sound of his singing doesn’t annoy you anymore, instead it makes you yearn for the normalcy of your married life. 

Then again, “normalcy” means something different when you’re two overworked sorcerers.

And now the feeling of wanting to spend every second possible with him makes you feel very awake. 

Satoru is still taking his sweet time inside the shower once you pattern down to the kitchen, switching on the cupboard lights. You rub at your eyes, and when the darkness finally ebbs away, you spot something starkly standing out against the ritzy furnishing of the room.

It’s a cupcake. Inside an old plastic jar that looks too tall for it.

At first, you wanna laugh. It’s funny, and actually really cute. You think about the way he probably rummaged through the cupboards trying to find the perfect container for his cupcake, one that won’t smush it in any way. Logistically it’s perfect, wide enough to encase the width of the cake, but leaves a lot (maybe too much) space on the top to preserve the hardened frosting and all its sprinkles. He could probably fit another cupcake on top if he wanted to. You don’t even remember having this one at all, it must’ve been an old plastic jar you stored away behind the clutter and forgot about.  

It reminds you of what a little kid would do if they wanted to save a sweet treat for later, grabbing whatever was the most convenient around. 

You’re melting at the right, but then you start to question it. Why did he pack just one singular cupcake? Where’s his lunch? Was he not going to eat anything else? 

Your heart butts in, thinking about why the only reason he packed his “lunch” like this is because he simply doesn’t have the time to properly prepare one. That once he’s out there, wherever the world demands him to be, he won’t even have the mind to take care of himself, let alone spare an hour for lunch. He wouldn’t have someone to take a break with. Everyone is already stretched too thin, and he’s going to be someplace else before you can reach him. 

And the worst part is, the cupcake (singular) isn’t even freshly baked. It’s a leftover you brought home a few days ago. 

It makes you want to cry. 

And maybe you are being a bit dramatic. You’re not sure what’s gotten into you this morning. But you really can’t blame yourself for feeling an unimaginable amount of affection and love for the man you get to call your husband. Not when it’s during moments that really remind you that Satoru is human. That somewhere behind those walls, beneath that immeasurable power is a man who’s living life for the first time, too. A man who has a notebook filled with things he wants to learn later on, who still wears that outfit combo you once said he “looked really handsome in”, and one who plays with the digivice you got him in the middle of the night just as you’re falling into a dreamless sleep. 

Your body moves before you can even think, and you’re already pulling out a pan and turning on the stove to cook him something more edible than a stale, half frozen cupcake. 

By some miracle, you finished packing the food into a lunch box when Satoru comes out of your bedroom. 

You can smell the remnants of fragrant steam from his shower, and the familiar scent of his cologne almost puts a smile on your face. But the second you really take a look at him, you’re back to aching inside again. 

Satoru doesn’t have a single clue on the internal turmoil you’re going through. 

He has a big grin plastered on, very happy to be greeted by the sight of you in his digimon shirt and a pair of sleep shorts that ride up just the perfect amount. He’s already dressed in his uniform, though his jacket is unbuttoned and he hasn’t put his blindfold on so there’s nothing to keep his white hair from springing up the way it usually does. It’s so soft, the way they frame his face and contrasts the bright blue of his eyes. It makes him look more gentle—boyish. Reminiscent of his jujutsu high days when everything seemed much easier. 

He notices you straight away, of course. There is no world where he wouldn’t find you first. 

There’s an evident eagerness in his steps as he approaches the kitchen, mussing his hair up from the front though it somehow falls back perfectly.  Satoru grins widely, nose turned up at the smell of your cooking. But you have a suspicion that it’s you who makes him happier when he can’t keep his eyes off you the whole walk.

“Wifey~ I don’t think I’ll make it back by dinner,” Satoru starts, apologetic. “but promise I’ll text at least 10 times today!” He recovers from his solemn tone and beelines straight towards you, making grabby hands and pouting his lips to ask for a kiss. 

He sounds so positive, humoring you so the thought of being left alone won’t make you feel sad. You really, really want to let him sink right into you and give him all the kisses of the world, but all you can think of is how lonely he must feel having lunch all by himself, somewhere halfway across the world. 

And that damn cupcake in a jar. 

He lets out a quiet “oomf” at the sheer force in which you barrel straight at him.

“Woah, slow down, honey.” He laughs, cushioning your fall before snaking his hands down to your hips and squeezing. “I know I’m prized commodity these days~”

You don’t even play around anymore. Being in his arms makes everything feel too real. And it reminds you of how important these mundane moments are—how fleeting they can be. 

Does he even know how precious he is?

“Eh?”

You can feel the way he tenses immediately after hearing your first sniffle. 

Satoru coos at you softly, right hand gently raking down the back of your head as his right holds you by the waist. He noses at your hair, planting kisses on the crown of your head while asking you every possible version of “what’s wrong?”. 

You don’t relent for a while though, too busy drowning in your own emotions and trying to squeeze him against you—trying to merge your bodies into one. 

You don’t want to face him just yet. You’re just a bit embarrassed, a whole lot sad, very much in love. Actually every single emotion at the same time. 

He rests his palm on the back of your neck, patiently waiting on you to look up at him. Satoru shakes his head affectionately, murmuring against your hair to explain to him why you’re so sad. He doesn’t stop trying, even when you stubbornly shake your head on his chest. But it doesn’t take you long to relent,—because you always crave being spoiled by him—and once you do, he almost quivers at how sad you look. Snot faced and all. 

You manage to push out the words through slow breaths, sniffing away the remnants of your outburst. 

“You’re just so.. cute. My husband. My handsome boy.” Your thumb traces careful lines on his skin, starting from the corners of his eyes to his temple. “So cute and strong and good and takes care of me so well.”

Satoru feels his chest seize, and then release fully, a breath so big that it feels like every burden he’s ever carried has finally gone. 

You're not praising him for his power, or for his position in this world. But for being good. A good husband, a good friend, a good lover. A good person. 

You have the ability to dismantle and build him up again every single time. 

“I guess I am pretty cool, huh?”

It hits you then, how soft he sounds. How small. Like he truly believes the words he’s saying, not just as an offhand rhetoric thrown out in lighthearted conversations. 

This really shouldn’t make you sad. Brought to tears and ruin. But damn his stupid big blue eyes and the undying love in them every time he talks to you. 

A sudden burst of shy clinginess has you latching back right into the crook of his neck, as your hands tighten impossible harder around his shoulders.

“What’s going on, pretty?” He whispers and coos at you still, running his fingers gently through your hair. He stops right at the back, holding your head closer.

“Isawyourcupcakeinajarandgotsad.” You mumble against his neck, and your husband chuckles at your childish actions.

“Can’t hear you from all the way up here,” Satoru definitely can hear you, but he won’t stop until you say it to his face.

He gently uses the hand on your neck to massage the area, wordlessly asking for you to look up at him. When you finally do, his hands stay right where they are. A small reminder that he’ll always be there for you. 

“I saw your cupcake in a jar and got sad.”

The pout on your face can move mountains. Satoru has to physically hold back after his heart practically jumps out of his chest at the speed in which it starts to beat. Naturally, he’ll take this chance to tease you, even when you’re all mushy and sappy against him.

“You cryin’ over my 2 day old cupcake?”

And at that your lips wobble, immediately driven to tears again.

It takes a solid 10 minutes for Satoru to hold you through your tears. And every time you think you’re finished, you manage to burst into sobs again because he is so gentle with you. So soft in the way he holds you by the waist, and even how he caresses the back of your head—like he’s afraid one wrong tug will cause you even more hurt. It doesn’t help that you’re aware of just how silly you’re being right now. How you’re making him late to be the hero of this world. Yet despite all of that, he still listens, still answers your unintelligible mumbling and cries with words that make you feel entirely heard.

He even coos at you with that tone that soothes the deepest part of your heart, the one who loves so much and asks for it the same way. 

Inside though, he’s completely torn between wanting to laugh at how cute you are or comforting you because you’re crying real life tears at his face. Full on sobbing and clawing at his shirt like your life depended on it. 

In the end, both reactions come out simultaneously. Whenever you let out a particularly dramatic cry, you can feel his body shaking from holding back his laughter. When you pout up at him after he finishes consoling his baby, you can see the pure restraint in his expression, the way his tongue pokes the insides of his cheeks to stay still. Of course when little giggles do manage to burst out, you punch his chest weakly. And then he soothes you all over again when he brings your violent hands to his lips. 

It’s silly, so silly in retrospect. He hadn't put much thought into the cupcake that morning, yet here you are, absolutely distraught over his poorly packed dessert. He can just brush it off as a passing thing—just you having a cuteness aggression that’s enough to drive you to tears. 

But Satoru is a weak, weak man for you. 

He is already prepared to give you the world if you look at him in any way, so the sight of you in tears is enough to bring him onto his knees. You don’t even have to ask, and he’d fulfill each and every one of your whims, regardless if they seem big or small. Silly or serious. Simply because you are worthy of being celebrated, chosen and loved in all the possible ways. 

Satoru doesn’t even care that he’s late.

He would put the entire world on hold just for you. 

He sways you against him, and the motion calms you enough for your sobs to die down. You’re left sniffling against his now-damp uniform, squished between his chin on top of your head and his arms around your body. Breathing in, heart to heart. As if you’re trying to make him understand all the love that will never be enough to express with words through the gesture alone. And he can understand, because he knows you in ways that nobody else does.

“I made you lunch. I know you’ll be really busy but I still want you to eat something nutritious.” You say against the column of his neck, grounding yourself as you feel the low hum of his voice through the skin. 

You turn around quietly, and Satoru adjusts his arms so that they rest on your stomach. He watches your movements keenly, chin hooked over your right shoulder. His warm breaths tickle you, but you don’t shrug him off. You just huff in response, and Satoru replies by nuzzling his face further into the side of your neck. 

Still caged in his arms, you open the lunch box to show him the express meal you cooked with the little time you had. 

It’s a simple dish. Salmon fillet, vegetable salad on the side and a hearty serving of rice. You even put his lonely cupcake in the bag, knowing he’d still eat it regardless.

“It’s not a lot, but I just want the best for you.” You tell him quietly. 

“You are the best for me.” 

Satoru immediately spins your body around to face him. He hunches his shoulders down to make himself smaller—closer—holding you by your cheeks and bumping your noses together. 

He doesn’t stop until he sees your smile through your tears, eyes crinkling as the happiness sparks its way back. 

You are so pretty. Even with swollen eyes and furrowed brows—especially like that. There’s so much beauty in the quiet ways you take care of him. How your actions say “I’m here for you”, louder than any words.

“I love you.” Satoru reminds you once more.

He repeats the words, pressing a kiss to each part of your face. 

“I love you,” your cheeks “I love you,” your forehead “I love you,” your nose “I love you,” and your lips.

He stays there for a little longer, pressing so hard that you have to hold onto his biceps when the force of his love bends you backwards. 

“I love you sooo so much.” Satoru singsongs, finally detaching from your lips with a loud and exaggerated “mwah”. 

“I can’t believe I get to call you mine.” He smiles at you, a little smug and undoubtedly sweet. 

“I can’t believe I get to call you mine.” You retort, though your voice comes out slightly gibberish as he’s still squishing your cheeks together. 

Instead of accepting, your husband decides to challenge you in your love. “Uh no, me even more.”

“Me, times like, a million.” You raise a brow, poking his cheek.

And like all your arguments, it continues as a one-upping competition, before you forget what you were squabbling about once he decides to be a sore loser and starts tickling you. 

When he takes mercy and holds you tightly against him instead of violently assaulting you with tickles, you’re breathless and heavy, with a big grin decorating your face. “We should get married again, or something.”

“If this is your way of telling me you wanna recreate our honeymoon night, you can just ask~”

You reward him with a light slap against his butt. And Satoru shamelessly revels in it, because that wasn’t a no to his offer.

Your home is quiet for a few moments, and in between the silence is the occasional sound of your sniffles, and his gentle lips against your forehead following every time. 

“Promise to call me when you eat?” A gentle tap of your nose against his.

“Pinky promise.”

And he does just that. Some time during the day, your phone rings and Satoru greets you with an up close look of his grin. He’s already taken off his blindfold, though you tell him to put it right back on because you know how sleep deprived and overwhelmed he is. Satoru whines and denies at first, but you push with a sealing argument, saying that “he’ll get to see your pretty face just fine with those six eyes of his”. He relents, because he can never say no to you. 

It doesn’t shock you nearly as much as it used to when your husband flips the camera around, showing him sitting right on the edge of a very tall skyscraper. You chastise him, but he just laughs in your face and tells you to eat more sweets to make up for him being away. 

This is how it is. 

Just you and him against the world. Miles away, but under the same sky. Imperfectly perfect together.

Based on this lady’s tiktok where she gets sad seeing her husband set out a granola bar for work, and all the comments underneath. (+muffin pic creds)

🥹 in the end, he’s just a boy with love and dreams too 💔