Chapter Text
when satoru told you he was going to get haircut. you didn’t think he meant he’d be doing it himself.
he had locked himself in the bedroom for hours beforehand. so now . . after finally getting him to come out and show you, he ran past you instead. and now, you find yourself begging him to simply turn around.
“toru… it cannot be that bad, just let me see. please..?”
“no.”
the pout in his voice was evident, muffled slightly as he curled deeper into the bed, squishing pillows to either side of his head like a makeshift helmet.
if there was one thing satoru prided himself on that had nothing to do with his absurd strength or physique, it was his hair. soft porcelain white strands that framed his face just right.
with a sigh, you sat down next to him, the mattress sinking slightly under your weight. you placed a hand on his waist, making him tense just a little before you placing firm, comforting pats.
“satoru,” you pouted. hoping your pleas wouldnt fall upon deaf ears. “i just wanna see my sexy, smart, beautiful, brilliant husband.”
he huffed again, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out. a stark contrast to his usual loud mouth.
“huh?”
“i said… i fucked it up.” he whined, feet kicking lightly against the mattress with soft, frustrated thuds.
you couldn’t help but let out an amused scoff. sure, you’d seen satoru act up before—whenever he wanted your attention, or when he was just being deliberately insufferable for the fun of it—but never quite like this.
“jesus, did you do it with a blindfold or something?” — well, yes. yes he did.
a minute of comfortable silence passed.
“promise me you won’t laugh…” he mumbled, voice small and uncharacteristically shy, face buried into the plethora of cushions he gathered.
“ermmm.. no promises!”
he let out a long exasperated groan in response, practically thrashing under the pillows as your hand stayed at his waist. “alright, alright!”, pressing a firm pat to his side. “just put on your big boy pants and show me.” you hummed sarcastically. “i won’t laugh…. too hard.”
another moment of silence passed before he sat up slowly, letting the pillows fall back onto the bed — revealing the deepest pout known to mankind, and a wide hesitant look in his eyes, brighter than usual.
for a second, you didn’t say anything.
his hair—normally soft, effortless, his trademark—was noticeably shorter, uneven in a few places, with strands falling in an abnormal manner. it framed his face differently, a little messier, more exposed . . . and quite frankly younger in a way that clearly wasn’t what he was going for.
but what really stood out?
his forehead.
the one he always kept hidden beneath his bangs or covered by his blindfold —completely out in the open now, unguarded.
“oh my god…” you breathed.
his brows knit slightly, hands hovering near his hair again, shielding it on instinct, his uncertainty flickering across his face. “um.. baby? is that a good ‘oh my god’ or a bad one?”
you let out a loud huff of laughter. “a good one! it’s so cute! like really fucking cute!!!”
“…cute?” he repeated, the word not sitting right in his mouth, trying to stick the baby strands back into place.
“this is gonna be my new wallpaper. one hundred percent.” you beamed while pulling your phone out the pocket of your sweats to snap a picture . . . except he immediately shouted, “no!” before curling up into a ball to hide himself from you.
you crawled on top of him, chin pressing into his shoulder blade and cheek squishing against his muscle as you settled all your weight into him.
“please. i just wanna kiss it.”
“no. kiss it some other time!”
“please. it’ll last longer if i photograph it.” you hummed, lips now mimicking his own pout.
“well i dont want it to last!”
“turn around? pleaseee—”
he suddenly flipped you over, shifting so he was on top of you, pinning your wrist down with ease. your phone was still in your hand before he shoved it aside, sending it bumping into the headboard as it skidded across the satin sheets of your shared bed.
but when you looked at him, his eyes were still wide, a soft pink dusting his ears—now fully exposed by the short haircut—while a cute pink flush crept across his cheeks. utterly convinced you were going to die from how cute he was being.
he let out a small whine, the vibrations buzzing faintly against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, voice muffled against you.
“…fix it.”
sometimes you forget that satoru is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen . . . especially in moments like this. the ones where he does something so undeniably stupid and melts into a sulky, shameless mess about it.
“oh, you sweet, sweet thing…” you murmured, hugging him closer, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of his head. “there’s no fixing that trainwreck.” you added with a small shrug, your fingers gently running through his hair.
he went quiet in your arms for a moment. his grip on you tightened just slightly, fingers bunching into the fabric of your shirt.
. . .
“you still think i look good, right?”
“of course!” you murmured, smiling softly. “the cutest sorcerer of all time!!”
“am not.” , he quickly countered. but the way he leaned into you told you everything but.