comment_fic | Domestic Tuesdays

Hello, everyone. I’m

jupiter2932/schweinsty and your host for the week. As a friendly reminder about our schedule: Lonely Prompts and sharing completed fills are encouraged on Sundays, while new themes and prompts are posted on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Saturdays are a Free for All day. We'll share our posts on DW and LJ for everyone's convenience. Keep an eye out for notifications!

With that being said, today's theme is domestic fic. Prompts should have characters in domestic situations, though what that looks like is totally up to you.

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and the fandom's full name
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above-mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Push, Nick Gant(/Kira Hudson) + Cassie Holmes, sometimes home is a series of cheap motel rooms
+ Stargate: Atlantis, any, defending the city from an attack
+ Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Cimorene, spring cleaning

We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2024 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? You can use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community. Fret not, DW members, we are working on a way to search through old entries for prompts for you!

While the use of LJ's advanced search options is available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching in the future.

If you have a Dreamwidth account and would feel more comfortable participating there, please feel free to do so…and spread the word! comment_fic

tag=domestic

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, de-cluttering

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, frantic cleaning before an important visitor arrives

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, singing Hard Knock Life while doing chores

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, dealing with an animal or pet who sheds a lot

From:

smallhobbit

“Ugh!” Lucas said, “the sofa is covered with fur.”

“Don’t look at me like that, I hoovered it yesterday morning,” Adam replied.

“Couldn’t you have put a cover on it?”

“I did, but you climbed underneath the cover when I was in the kitchen and had fallen asleep by the time I came back.”

“It still doesn’t explain why there’s quite so much fur.”

“It’s spring and you’re moulting.”

“Do werewolves moult?”

“I’ve no idea. But you do.”

“So what you’re saying is that it’s my fur, and therefore I should clear it up.”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Oh, very well!”

From:

nagi_schwarz

lol thank you so much for this! (I have no idea whether wolves shed or not.) At least Lucas is willing to take responsibility for the problem. Adam’s struggle is probably endless.

From:

smallhobbit

Lucas can't help it, but someone will have to clean up and Adam's done plenty over the last three days! And thank you :)

From:

brumeier

Any, any/any, a couple introducing their families for the first time

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, what warriors/monster hunters/etc do during down time at their base of operations

From:

nagi_schwarz

“This is…quaint.” Dongmin ducked through the archway and into the large stone room.

Bin spread his arms wide. “Welcome! To our humble abode.”

“This isn’t where we live,” Minhyuk broke in. “This is just our team’s headquarters. We have individual beds in the dormitories with the rest of the rank and file shadowhunters, of course.”

“Men in one dorm, women in the other,” Sua added.

Jinwoo, sitting at a desk with several volumes on his desk, pen in hand, said, “I’m sure it’s not women Dongmin is worried about when it comes to Minhyuk.”

Dongmin had been to the Seoul Institute before, but for most visits he never made it past the foyer, or one of the council rooms with large tables for meetings.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said.

The were several low couches scattered around the room, plenty of bookshelves, which had an equal number of lore and history tomes as well as novels and — was that a stack of manhwa?

“We need to return those to the manhwabang,” Bin said, looking a little bashful.

“He’s addicted to webtoons, but he has no patience. He once ran up a huge bill buying coins to read fast-pass episodes, so now he has manhwa to binge in between waiting for updates of his favorite webtoons,” Sua said.

Bin hissed and swatted at her. “Aish. Don’t expose me like that.”

“It’s not completely Joseon-era,” Jinwoo said.

“You have electric lights,” Dongmin noted.

“And a mini-fridge,” Bin said, pointing. “And a coffee machine! And even a television, but we can never agree what to watch. We have a gaming console, too, but that’s pretty new. Sanha and Myungjun like to game with Jinwoo, and Jinwoo hates going to the PC-bang.”

Dongmin narrowed his eyes. “I have a gaming console at my apartment now as well for those two.”

Jinwoo shook his head and sighed. “Of course you do.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Minhyuk asked.

Dongmin scanned the shelves. The walls were decorated with an array of weapons — swords, bows and arrows, knives, whips and chains, glaives and spears, and other weapons that most Mundanes had forgotten ever existed. “What do you usually do for fun?”

“Spar or train,” Bin said, and Minhyuk and Sua nodded their agreement.

That sounded mostly stressful to Dongmin, but he knew that for Shadowhunters, who were half-angel and stronger and faster and tougher than regular humans, sparring and combat was a sport and a game as much as it was about life and death.

So he said, “I can spar with you, if you like.”

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows. “What’s your weapon of choice?”

Dongmin gathered magic into his palm and formed a spiky ball of ice. “Whatever I can think up, I suppose.” He said, “Dodge,” and threw.

Immediately all four Shadowhunters scattered from the ice ball’s path.

“We should take this into the sparring hall,” Jinwoo said.

“Which way is that?” Dongmin readied another ball of spiky ice — but this one would release a slippery oil slick once it shattered.

Bin pointed, and Dongmin realized that what he’d taken to be a shadow between bookcases was actually a doorway.

“I’ll give you a head start,” Dongmin said, hefting the ball.

The others ran.

What followed was a merry chase, Dongmin conjuring obstacles and barriers as often as he conjured projectiles or weapons. Sometimes he attacked just one of them, sometimes all of them, sometimes a pair of them, constantly switching it up.

He listened to them whoop and holler, signal each other, strategize on the fly.

“Circle around to his six!” Bin shouted. “We can pincer him!”

“Not if he can hear us,” Minhyuk protested, and then Jinwoo fired an arrow from Dongmin’s three, and that had been part of the plan all along.

Dongmin deflected the arrow with a sweep of his magic, only Sua was leaping at him, blade drawn.

Eventually, Dongmin ran out of magical energy, and the others tired as well, and they stumbled back into their team room.

Dongmin collapsed onto one of the couches, and Minhyuk plopped down beside him, breathing hard but grinning fiercely.

“That was actually more fun than I thought it would be,” Dongmin said.

“You,” Sua panted, “are incredibly tough.”

“Not as tough as an arch-demon,” Dongmin said, and Bin let out a kittenish growl.

Dongmin winced and apologized for the reminder of Minhyuk’s close call with just such a demon.

“You are unlikely to find yourselves in single combat with a warlock like me,” Dongmin felt compelled to point out.

There were many warlocks in the world.

Few were as old — or as powerful — as him. He was aware of where he stood in the grand scheme of things, more aware than most. Time gave him perspective.

“Thank the angels for that,” Jinwoo said, and Sua made a wordless sound of agreement.

“What now?” Dongmin asked.

“Movies? Video games? Dramas?” Bin offered.

It was all so mundane. So normal. So ordinary.

“One of those sounds good,” Dongmin said.

“But first.,” Minhyuk said, reaching out and twining his fingers with Dongmin’s, “we should probably wash up.”

Bin sniffed at his own collar and winced. “We should. Meet back here in half an hour, tops.” He heaved himself to his feet and headed for the door.

“Not an hour,” Sua said pointedly to Jinwoo, who nodded with good grace.

They, too, rose and headed for the door.

“They’re going to the locker rooms,” Minhyuk said.

“We should go with them, right?” Dongmin said.

Minhyuk said, “Jinwoo, as a team captain, has a private bathroom.” His dark eyes gleamed.

Dongmin pressed a hand to his chest. “Park Minhyuk, how dare you suggest such an improper thing to innocent little me —”

Minhyuk tugged Dongmin to his feet. “Come on. I’ll scrub your back.”

Dongmin followed Minhyuk down the hallway and to a discreet stairwell that led up a level. “Just my back?”

Minhyuk’s answer was to turn and reel him in for a kiss.

From:

brumeier

Ha! I knew you wouldn't be able to resist this prompt. ::grins:: My wicked plan worked!

Also, I love this fill! Of course they spend their free time sparring. I love that it's everyone versus Dongmin, and he easily holds his own. I can feel the camaraderie pulling them all closer together, which is really cool.

Thank you so much!!

From:

nagi_schwarz

I approve of and appreciate your plan as always, so thank you, and you're welcome!

From:

brumeier

Any, any/any, picking out their first pet together

From:

brumeier

Any, any/any, their partner makes routine chores (like grocery shopping) fun

From:

jupiter2932

Push, Nick Gant(/Kira Hudson) + Cassie Holmes, sometimes home is a series of cheap motel rooms

From:

jupiter2932

Stargate: Atlantis, any, defending the city from an attack

From:

jupiter2932

Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Cimorene, spring cleaning

From:

jupiter2932

Torchwood, Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato, board game nights with the kids

From:

jupiter2932

The X-Files, Dana Scully/Fox Mulder, snacks on the couch on World Series nights

From:

vonseal

Any/any, one of them is sick and so the other cares for them

From:

nagi_schwarz

Minhyuk came awake to the sound of low, melodic humming. It wasn’t any melody he recognized, and it wasn’t a scale he recognized either. But he recognized the ceiling of Dongmin’s apartment immediately, and after he blinked, more of his surroundings came into focus.

He was lying on a pallet in Dongmin’s living room, which had been magically expanded.

There was another pallet on the far side of the room, but it was empty, the covers cast side. Bin had been sleeping there, right? Where was Bin? The last thing Minhyuk remembered was falling asleep with Bin holding his hand.

Before that was the sure knowledge that he was about to die in a demon’s claws.

Who was humming?

Minhyuk tried to sit up, but his chest ached like he’d been kicked like a mule — or stabbed through and then magically put back together.

There, behind his pallet, on the far side of the room, was Dongmin’s workbench.

The warlock in question was humming as he ground something with a mortar and pestle. Minhyuk’s nose twitched at the spicy aroma that drifted toward him. Bin probably would have been sneezing at such a strong scent.

Something about the way Dongmin was humming was — deliberate. He wasn’t like Myungjun, for whom music ran in his veins, always humming or softly singing a melody because his entire existence was set to music. Dongmin was humming in time with the mixing, Minhyuk realized.

Was the music part of Dongmin’s magic? Warlocks weren’t restricted to a particular type of magic.

Dongmin’s humming turned to soft singing, though Minhyuk couldn’t make out the lyrics as Dongmin scraped the mixture from the mortar into a bowl, and then he selected several sparkling bottles of the bench. He poured brightly-colored liquids, a drop at a time, in time to the music, into the bowl, and then he stirred with what looked like a hand-carved wooden spoon, still in time to the music.

The melody changed when Dongmin changed the direction he was stirring, and then — there was a spark and a puff of smoke, and the scent vanished.

Dongmin was still humming as he crossed the room with the bowl in his hands. He raised his eyebrows when he saw that Minhyuk was still awake, but he continued humming as he unbuttoned Minhyuk’s shirt.

Minhyuk lay back obediently, trusting Dongmin, and watched as Dongmin smeared the paste from the bowl onto Minhyuk’s chest, covering the wound, his strokes smooth and even, and still in time to the music.

Dongmin’s voice was deep and velvety and lulling, and Minhyuk’s eyes drifted closed, as Dongmin’s hands were warm and strong and soft.

The end of the song brought Minhyuk back to wakefulness. Dongmin set the bowl aside, absently, magicked his hands clean, and then gently re-buttoned Minhyuk’s pajama shirt.

“How are you feeling?” Dongmin asked.

“Better,” Minhyuk said, and it was true. The pain in his chest was gone. But he knew well, from having healing runes traced into his skin, that absence of pain equated to healing.

“Bin placed some iratze runes on you before he left. He’s fully recovered.” Dongmin smoothed a hand over Minhyuk’s hair, gazing down at him, dark eyes wide and luminous. “I almost lost you.”

“I’m sorry,” Minhyuk breathed. “I didn’t mean —”

“I know. You didn’t. And — you’re mortal, beneath it all.” Dongmin’s breath hitched. “What matters if that you’re here now, and I can take care of you.”

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Minhyuk leaned into Dongmin’s caress. “What was that song you were singing? It’s pretty.”

Dongmin blinked. “Pardon?”

“You were humming and singing while you worked,” Minhyuk said.

Shadows descended in Dongmin’s gaze. “Oh. It’s a recipe song.”

“Is it magic?”

“The song itself isn’t magic, no. But the song is the recipe — the ingredients, how many to add and when, how much to stir, that sort of thing.”

“I didn’t recognize the language,” Minhyuk said.

“Oh? It was Korean.”

Minhyuk frowned. “Oh. I must be very tired.”

Dongmin stroked his hair again. “I’m sure you are very tired, but — it was old Korean. Ancient Korean. My mother was a healer. She taught me the song.”

“Did she have magic?”

“No, but her herb lore was unparalleled. What I learned from her is only more potent with my magic.” Dongmin eased himself down on the pallet beside Minhyuk and pressed close to him. “You can stay with me till you heal, all right? And after, too, if you like.”

It was a tempting offer, but Minhyuk honestly didn’t know how the Council at the Institute was condoning Minhyuk being here to convalesce instead of the infirmary at the Institute.

The cat was out of the bag now, Minhyuk supposed. About his relationship with Dongmin. Now that the Mortal Cup had been recovered so new Shadowhunters could be ascended from the Mundanes, the emphasis on early marriage and abundant childbearing had eased. Minhyuk having a downworlder for a lover would cause more consternation than his lover being a man.

Minhyuk nestled closer to Dongmin and closed his eyes, absorbing Dongmin’s warmth and scent.

“Can I stay forever?” he whispered.

Dongmin’s arms around him tightened.

Only one of them had any chance of truly being here forever.

But Dongmin said, “Yes. Stay with me forever.”

Minhyuk thought of the runes for binding and love and marriage, and what they might look like on Dongmin’s skin, as tattoos if nothing else, since angelic runes wouldn’t take on his skin, Dongmin who was half-demon where Minhyuk was half-angel.

Minhyuk breathed, “Love you.”

Dongmin buried his face against Minhyuk’s throat. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I said I’d stay with you forever.”

“Don’t leave me,” Dongmin whispered again, and his voice shook.

Minhyuk opened his eyes and looked down at Dongmin — and saw that his lashes were wet with tears.

“Dongminnie.” Minhyuk wiped his tears away. “I’m here. I’m staying. I promise.”

But Minhyuk wasn’t immortal, and his calling was to hunt the creatures in the shadows who threatened the world of the light.

“Don’t leave me,” Dongmin said again.

All Minhyuk could do was hold him and let the healing salve work its magic. He’d stay a few days after he was fully healed, because Dongmin needed him more than the Institute did, at least for now.

From:

vonseal

oh man this is so bittersweet!! i love their developing relationship but it is also so sad knowing poor dongmin is immortal and so scared of losing minhyuk 😭 thank you for such a lovely oneshot!!

From:

nagi_schwarz

You're so welcome! Minhyuk is in a lot of peril, so Dongmin is going to be stressed out a lot during this relationship no lies.

From:

vonseal

Any/any, going on a picnic

From:

cornerofmadness

The Owl House, Edalyn Clawthorne/Raine Whispers, trying to figure out sleeping arrangements when your partner sleeps in a nest

From:

cornerofmadness

The Owl House, Camila and Luz Noceda, Hunter, Willow Park, Gus Porter, Amity Blight, Vee, the kids try to do something nice for Camila for taking care of them

From:

cornerofmadness

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Rupert Giles + any, making a proper cup of tea

From:

badly_knitted

Americans, with their American ways and their reliance on coffee, will never understand the importance of a proper cup of tea. And by that, Giles means tea made with loose leaves and brewed in a teapot, not what Americans term tea, made with teabags and drunk, as often as not, with the bag still floating in there.

“You’ve had a nasty shock,” he tells Willow, patting her hand a bit awkwardly. Dealing with teenagers, or children of any age, is not one of his talents, certainly not part of his Watcher training, and since he doesn’t have siblings, he finds young people a bit baffling, especially those of an American persuasion. They’re like a different breed, similar to the British variety but less domesticated, bordering on feral. “What you need is a soothing cup of tea.”

“Oh. Okay,” Willow replies vaguely, still looking somewhat dazed and upset. Giles can’t really blame her; she’s handled the existence of vampires extraordinarily well, but being held prisoner by a lovestruck robot demon would be a bit much for anyone.

He leaves her sitting on his sofa and goes into the kitchen, filling the kettle and putting it on. While the water heats, he gets out cups and saucers, and sets them on a tray along with a small jug of milk and the sugar basin, then adds teaspoons, one in each saucer. He will absolutely NOT serve tea in mugs; it’s a deplorable habit, quite disgraceful, treating quality tea like common coffee.

When the water boils, he warms the pot, swilling water around inside it, then pouring it away before adding two spoonfuls of Earl Grey, one for each person, and a third for the pot, just as his grandmother taught him. Pouring the water over the leaves, he puts the lid on, then the tea cosy to keep everything hot while the tea steeps. Setting the pot and the tea strainer on the tray, he carries everything into the lounge, placing it careful on the low table.

Willow is still right where he left her, staring into space, clutching a wad of damp tissues in her hands. She is quite a remarkable girl, more upset at being responsible for scanning a demon into the internet than about being abducted. She’s also ashamed and guilty over skipping classes and not doing homework, and Giles finds it impossible to imagine either Buffy or any of her other friends ever suffering a moment’s guilt over such behaviour. Willow takes her education very seriously, an attitude that meets with Giles’ full approval.

Pouring the tea into two cups, he adds a dash of milk to each, hesitates briefly, the adds sugar to Willow’s cup, stirring it thoroughly and placing the spoon back in the saucer. Sweet tea is best for shock, although Giles prefers his own unadulterated.

“Here.” He passes Willow her cup. “Drink this, it will help.”

“Thank you.” Willow picks the cup up, leaving Giles holding the saucer, so he sets it on the table, picking up his own cup and saucer, and sitting in the chair opposite. Willow’s looking into her cup as if she’s never seen tea before, but after staring at it a bit longer, she takes a sip. “Ow. Hot!”

“Would you like more milk?” Giles is determined to be a good host. After all, it’s not every day a tearful teenager shows up on his doorstep babbling about being a bad student, an evil person for letting a demon loose, potentially dooming the world, and as if that wasn’t enough to be ashamed of, a bad friend. Giles still isn’t sure he understands that last part, but in all honesty, the tears and the sniffling made it difficult to make out most of what Willow was saying earlier. All Giles was able to do was offer tissues and reassurance that she’s not evil, she simply made a mistake, and since Moloch is once again safely contained, no real harm has been done.

He adds a drop more milk to Willow’s cup, and she obediently sips again, and keeps sipping until the cup is empty.

Giles watches, smiling in satisfaction, as he drinks his own tea. There is simply nothing in existence more beneficial in any kind of crisis than a proper cup of tea, and he refills Willows cup without her having to ask. He might not be an expert at knowing what to say to distraught teenagers, but one thing he does know is how to make tea, and in the end, that’s one of the most valuable skills anyone can have.

The End