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yinseal.
she’s always worked better with a plan / hates having to improvise ( an irony, since medical work is almost all improvisation. ) everything and anything get put down on a list, crossed off with a neat little line upon completion; she can find everything exactly so, handle it as she goes. that’s the good thing about greed, really he throws a little chaos in the mix, reminds her that it’s not a bad thing to be without a plan. he challenges her, keeps her guessing / solid when she needs him, but otherwise open to interpretation. not a bad thing, when everything suddenly seems so up in the air.
it’s not the baby that worries her: she’s got no doubts that she wants to expand her family, and she knows greed wants to be here. perhaps ava might take it rough when the attention isn’t solely on her, but she’s prepared for that; the star of the show can’t exactly live without a few curtain calls. she can even handle the morning sickness again, even if ava did knock her flat out those first few months. it’s the guilt that seems to gnaw at her the most, and the change: sooner or later, one or the other is going to come spilling out.
❝ oh no, bunny, that’s alright. ❞ broken from her thoughts, she flashes ava that wide, reassuring smile that promises sharing is not required. ❝ the baby won’t be able to have french fries for a long time, so i think you’re safe. ❞
the baby. god, there’s a baby, isn’t there? just like last time, and even after all these years, she still can’t quite wrap her head around it. they made a baby; she’s growing a baby. and this time, she won’t have to do it alone ( please god, don’t let them kick like ava did. )
she chews on the end of her straw, watching without really seeing as ava plays an intricate game of her own design with the chicken nuggets. this time they’re dinosaur ( last time they were sharks ) fighting for control of the kingdom; after a prolonged battle, the loser is dipped in ketchup and devoured, and the battle begins anew. ava’s making low roars and screeches to the accompaniment of her gladiator sport, pausing occasionally to take quick sips of her drink; as she does, her mother is thinking of those lonely nights where she couldn’t lie down for want of comfort / mornings in class where she had to sit right by the door so she could run out to throw up. memories greed was spared / things he might resent her for ( god, what is wrong with her? )
❝ ava, ❞ she says, inadvertently breaking into the death howl of a triumphant triceratops. ❝ i know you’re excited, and i am too, but it’s okay if you feel a little overwhelmed, too. lots of changes are happening, but papa and i love you, no matter what. ❞
little hands still, ava’s brow furrowing as she forgoes her ‘dinosaur’ companion and takes a hearty bite from the nugget. greed’s eyes flicker between her and sakura, wondering what’s turning the gears in both their lovely heads.
❝ i’ll still be your baby, too, ❞ she says, the same way someone might say ‘the sky is blue’ or ‘the grass is green.’ ❝ and it means we can trade toys if i get a bad one. ❞ her little mouth curls into an impish grin, and greed shakes his head.
maybe the shock of it all will hit her later, when sakura’s belly has ballooned and the baby starts to kick, and reality can’t be denied. maybe, though, she really will adjust to having a younger sibling to love and annoy, to follow her around as she cooks up new ways to cause mischief each day.
❝ and, ❞ he adds, with a pointed look at sakura. ❝ it’s a change we’ll all be going through together, which means we might feel a lot of the same things. ❞ another glance at sakura. ❝ like worry. or excitement. or even jealousy. ❞ this time, he turns back to ava, who gazes back innocently, her fingers fighting for purchase on the plastic wrapping of her new toy.
ava nods in that way that tells him she hears them, but probably isn’t absorbing much, and he frowns.
at least, he thinks so, until she opens the toy with enough force the cheap piece of plastic goes flying across the table, landing in the middle of the tray.
unphased, she asks, mouth still half-full of food, ❝ where do you get a new baby? ❞
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you know what i always forget to talk about? post-canon greed's blistering migraines. he has them some as greed!ling, but it's not the same as having one in his very own human body.
they increase when he gets stressed, too, so that means in the months leading up to him telling sakura he loves her, when he's doing anything he possibly can to STOP himself from doing that, he's kind of just swinging wild from "night out drinking and fighting" to "day in absolute agony from migraines combined with a hangover and/or black eye" anyway i'm fine
#♛ ━━ sky speaks ┊ ooc.#i really need to incorporate it more into my writing for him because migraines can be so debilitating#his are partially triggered by the fact that his brain is sometimes working overtime to refresh 200 years worth of memories too
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yinseal.
it’s almost impossible to see how greed and wright come from the same stock no visible similarities, no shared physicality at all. the former is eagerness and clumsy interloper / smile like a prince, but theatricality of a jester. the latter is so stiff and serious, so entirely unruffled, that for weeks after they had first met, sakura used to have nightmares about him. she couldn’t tell what wright was thinking if her life depended on it; more than she’d like to admit, she’s not sure she believes him when he tells her.
not that she knows greed better; he’s just happier to demonstrate. the tilt of his head as she enters the elevator / lips pursed on a smile despite herself, eyes rolling skyward as if to pray for patience. he livens things up; he makes people laugh. even when she craves order, he finds a way to subvert her desires with something she can’t necessarily fault him for his propensity for harm, despite wright’s insistence, was really quite negligible.
❝ i could drink you under the table, ❞ she remarks / jabbing at her floor number without looking at greed once, flipping through a file with a free hand. ❝ if you plan to win my admiration, getting me drunk will be more trouble than it’s worth. i’m feisty on tequila. ❞
he chuckles, back pressing into the paneled wood of the elevator. he tilts his chin upwards to glimpse them in the mirrored silver above. ❝ damn. personally, i get a little emotional on tequila, ❞ he says, only half in jest. ( he and ling seldom speak of the night he knocked back so many tequila shots he ended up crying in the bathroom back at their apartment, his cheek stuck to the tiled floor. ) ❝ what --- exactly --- is more feisty than current sakura? like tongue lashing feisty or picture up on the banned wall feisty? ❞
the elevator lets out a cheerful ding as it reaches her floor. the strong smell of rubbing alcohol lingers in the air, and he scrunches his nose. ❝ if drinking’s out, what is it you do like to do in your free time? ❞ an intern scuttles into the elevator as they make their exit, and greed notes the sweat at their hairline, the frenzied look in their eyes. he lifts a brow, turning away as the doors slide closed.
❝ there’s got to be something you do to wind down from this fuckin’ mad house. ❞
#verse: golden boy / forgotten child. ( modern au )#yinseal#greed vc: what kind of date COULD i hypothetically take u on. in theory.
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since 2024 is the year of Sky Creating Things, i really want to be more active on greed and more dedicated to my writing, so my intent is to be around more, but life happens and yada yada anyway point is i will be harassing the world with greed/sakura in 2024 as kim and i near FIVE YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP
#♛ ━━ sky speaks ┊ ooc.#kim has put up with me longer than most god bless her#also her birthday is in three days just fyi :)
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yinseal.
the movement is so familiar, so absurdly close to routine, that she does not blink - automatic / one hand gripping tighter on the door ( the car has a tendency to protest heavily on right turns ) another braced slightly on the dashboard ( the airbag always threatens sudden movement when it senses the occupants are too relaxed. ) they could be a year earlier / just seven months, really; he could be explaining how oil paint had a superior texture to acrylic, and she’d be fiddling with the radio / sound up on whatever could drown out the sounds of metal fighting for its life around them.
❝ yeah, ❞ she says, because he’s right / because they will: they’ll ruminate on things for a while yet / struggle how to feel normal when she’s yanked the rug out from under him, and waltzed right back like it wasn’t half a year. ❝ but you - you were taking care of yourself, right? ❞
she knows he wasn’t. knows that he’s skinnier than before / dark circles under his eyes that speak to lack of sleep. knows he got a kitten named blossom to keep him company, because ( the unspoken / the obvious ) he was lonely. her stomach twists; she hates herself for that.
❝ you always just seemed … ❞ they inch up in line / just one car ahead of them, and this isn’t the place to keep the bruise tender, but she just can’t stop. ❝ i mean, we both blurred the lines. i know we didn’t really act, like, casual. but you were always the first to agree we were casual. i thought, maybe - ❞ she squirms, warm under the heat of her own interrogation. ❝ maybe you wanted casual and i was just misreading everything else. ❞
he blows a heavy breath through his lips, one hand perched upon the steering wheel as the other runs through his still sleep-styled hair. even now, a hint of blond roots peeks out at his scalp, a quiet reminder that, in the last few months, little mattered to him, especially vanity.
❝ yeah, well, i ... ❞ he trails off, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the worn leather of the steering wheel. ❝ it started that way, i guess. i know it’s disgustingly cliche, but i’d never met someone like you before. ❞ there had been girls over the years, of course. pretty ones with nice personalities --- some more wicked ones, too, but no matter how intimately they knew the press of his body, none of them came close to even brushing the surface of something deeper. god knows a few tried.
he shrugs a shoulder, maroon eyes flickering to the rearview mirror. he catches a glimpse of the family inside --- mother at the steering wheel, dad in the passenger seat, showing her something on his phone, as a toddler, pulling hard against the belt clipped over her chest, tries to see the screen, too. a smile flickers on his lips.
❝ look, i wasn’t clear about what i wanted, ❞ he says finally, looking at sakura. ❝ by the time i figured it out for myself, it’s no wonder you were confused. to be honest, i didn’t think you’d want the same thing. i’m not exactly the catch most women are looking for. ❞
the car ahead pulls forward. his stomach is back to somersaults by the time a voice blares through the speakers. ❝ welcome to mcdonalds! what can i get you today? ❞
❝ er --- what did you want? ❞ he murmurs. ❝ it’s on me, so take your pick. ❞
#verse: so i described you / modern au.#yinseal#nothing says romance like ur man buying u mcdonalds#also two replies in two days i am queen of rp#feel free to host my coronation at earliest convenience
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yinseal.
it occurs to her, in that split second where the door swings shut, that she’s given her new acquaintance the perfect opportunity to take more than what she’s willing to give. the bar is crowded / the noise is loud she’s already got a broken hand. he turns, and she tenses, ready to make the leap before he can get his hands on her ( how stupid was she to just follow a stranger back into an unknown room ?! ) instead, he stops a fair distance away, a dishcloth held aloft in his proffered hand; when she carefully grasps it in her own, no lunging arm follows her movement.
the flesh around her fingers is already purpling; vivid lines of green and blue intersect with the swollen skin, marring the flesh with the bruise. she’ll need to reset the bone when she gets back to the clinic, but it could have been worse; she’d nearly grazed the creep’s teeth with her knuckles, and that would have hosted a whole other injury. experimentally, she attempts to flex her fingers out; the pain quickly rises, forcing her to instead wrap the ice against the break instead.
❝ i practiced on men who touch women without their permission. ❞ it’s not quite a joke, but it doesn’t come out as darkly as she intended; perhaps it’s harder to carry some level of firmness when one’s hand was in several pieces. ❝ my name is sakura. i … guess it’s pretty obvious i just moved to dublith. ❞
maybe a bit more than obvious: after all, she’s only had the clinic open a short while / has barely managed to so much as set her bed up. she’s not a local / not yet; the secrets of this town are not yet hers to spend or barter. still, if she were to guess on why her friends picked this bar to go to, greed’s ( greed? ) biceps were probably the major factor.
❝ isn’t greed sort of troubling for a business owner? i’d think it would make for a pretty terrible time. ❞
a feline smirk curls at his lips, violet eyes continuing to read every crease of her brow, the slight tremor in her bruising fingers. they disappear beneath the cool cover of the ice pack, and greed lets his eyes meet hers again.
❝ anything can be bad for business, if you don’t handle it right, ❞ he says, waving off the question with a flick of his wrist. ❝ take the little friend you just met as an example, ❞ he jerks his head in the direction of the door leading back out into the hustle and bustle of the bar. ( a cheer rings out, and he can only assume that someone’s been crowned winner of the first poker game of the night. ) ❝ everyone saw you just about knock that creep’s lights out, and everyone certainly saw how i handled it afterwards. ❞ that smirk grows smug, before softening slightly.
❝ do you need someone to take a look at that? i’d hate for you to spread rumors that you got your fingers broken at my bar. ❞ if anything, rumors like that would draw more riff-raff in, and while greed always liked a little bit of trouble, there were only so many chairs, tables and expensive bottles of whisky a man could replace out-of-pocket.
❝ i’m afraid i don’t have a doctor on hand, but a lot of my people fought in ishval. they might know enough to ... ❞ the space between his brows furrows. what did she need? his own bones would have pieced themselves back together by now, good as new. ❝ well, enough to do something, i’m sure. ❞
#VERSE: WHEN YOU CAME IN THE AIR WENT OUT. ( AU )#yinseal#stands in ur bedroom doorway like a child about to tell their mom they just threw up#hi
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hi, i'm queen of disappearing for months at a time :)
#♛ ━━ sky speaks ┊ ooc.#not even gonna say 'life is back to normal now i'll be more active!' because that would be jinxing it
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going to be shifting greed's blog to dash-only and making him a carrd instead!
#♛ ━━ sky speaks ┊ ooc.#tfw you're too behind at this point to keep making a pretty theme but keeping up with a literal tiny website is doable#it's more like what i do at work and it's so easy to navigate#plus lbh tumblr themes are often super ugly these days
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yinseal.
the oxygen struggles in her lungs; every movement feels like it takes too long / a century of painstaking momentum, hardly achieved. gently, she reaches for tim’s hand splattered mud has dried along the creased palm / along the lines between his fingers. she can see see the faint scrapes against his skin, where he fell on hard stone floor; the tremor of his gesture nearly breaks the smile she works so hard to keep aloft. ❝ just like me, ❞ she agrees, and tim rests his chin against the top of greed’s head / pleased at least to have done something right after everything had gone so wrong.
it would be well in line for ava to protest at a bath when there was more exploring to be done, but the earlier fright and her vulnerable exposure has clearly wrung its toll she merely wraps her mother’s arm tighter between clasped hands, shrugging in purported unconcern at the suggestion. ❝ can we see lan fan? ❞ she asks, scuffing the toe of her shoe into the mud; hardly a second later, she freezes mid-action, as if remembering the care greed took to put the shoes on in the first place. ❝ and uncle ling? ❞
she wants to fall back into the familiarity of her role / of motherhood: to reply, stern and reassuringly that ling was the emperor, and likely too busy to see them ( that he had already spent enough time and resources helping them escape, and bringing them here. ) that lan fan was protecting him, too occupied to entertain. instead, she relents the coward’s way. ❝ we’ll see if they’ve got some time after your baths. ❞
with that, she hefts ava into her arms, repressing the hmph of effort it requires. ava’s getting bigger every day, sprouting like an overeager flower; still a baby / their baby, but dancing on the edge of growing older. there’s still a childish plumpness to her cheeks, and an easy grace to the way she leans her head against sakura’s shoulder was she ever so small that she could fit along the length of her mother’s forearm? before she learned to speak, to laugh ( to fear? )
❝ did you want to be an empress, mama? ❞ tim asks, looking upwards at the canopy of dreams as they wander back, and she laughs: a real laugh / real amusement and pleasure, the sound loud enough to perk both children up.
❝ oh, no, baby, i’d be a terrible empress. i’d insist on hospitals everywhere and everyone has to eat their veggies before dessert. ❞
ava makes a face clearly not on board with this line of thinking. ❝ when i’m empress, ❞ she declares, ❝ i’ll make as many hospitals as you want, mama. and i’ll make it so papa can have a nap anywhere. ❞
once, there’d been a time where greed could have ticked off on all his fingers and toes each decree he’d make as ruler. the only power he wants now is the kind that will keep his family safe. forget crowns and thrones, hoards of gold and jewels. this, right now, is more than enough.
❝ nothing much stopping me from napping where i want now, ❞ he teases lightly, reaching up to pluck one of the blossoms. he passes it to tim’s waiting hand, watching out of the corner of his eye as his small fist wraps around the flower, only squishing the petals a little. ❝ and the only problem with giving your mama all the hospitals she wants is that she’d insist on running them all. ❞
the smile he offers sakura is almost shy, his eyes glittering with forced amusement. even in one of the most beautiful places in the world ( certainly one of his favorites ), he can’t shake the overarching doom, the fear that hangs over them like a raincloud. will their children ever forget that day? the horror and bloodshed? a burst of anger sears through his chest as he reaches for another blossom.
pulling harder than intended, it sends a shower of pink petals on them. tim puffs out a quiet ‘ooooo,’ his free hand trying vainly to capture a petal before it breezes past him, towards the other side of the garden.
ava, with her slightly more adept grasp, snags a large blossom, with the barest hint of stem still attached. her tongue poking between her lips, she begins to place it in sakura’s hair.
greed takes a deep, shuddering breath, reminds himself that he can’t afford to fall apart or lash out in front of the kids. ❝ besides, emperors have advisors and sh-- stuff, ❞ he says quietly. ❝ otherwise ling would spend all day stuffing his mouth with carbs and sticking the bill on uncle ed. ❞
#verse: now i'm in exile / xing au.#yinseal#greed still having to remember to censor himself ... rip
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Rami Wants a Treat
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yinseal:
there were times, scattered between the teasing / the laughter / the bickering and back and forth a half-thought, quick and fleeting amongst so many more pressing matters: has this man ever been less than smugly put together? he pushed and prodded, bristled when she ruffled his feathers; he knew how to give as good as he got, and then some. all those visits, month after month, and she’d never seen him lose his poise / his confident air of casual superiority. annoyed, yes, and brooding now and then, but never panicked, never scared.
he’s frightened now.
his blood drips down against the sheets / across his skin; the stream is almost pitch black in the shadowed light, and she represses a shudder of superstitious fear something like the feeling of a ghost in the room, lingering over them. her hand encircles greed’s wrist, noting the sharp jut of bone and rapid-fire pulse beneath his skin; the blood seeps across her fingers, cooling and sticky, copper coated thick across her tongue.
❝ i … i think i heard you cry out. ❞ it doesn’t feel sufficient, or truthful, despite it being the fact; she forces her attention on the line of blood and mottled bruises down greed’s arm. ❝ you must have been thrashing around from your nightmare. it’s going to be okay, greed, i’ll bandage you up. you’re safe. it’s not real. ❞
nausea hits him again, hard enough he could swear his stomach literally rolls with it. a humorless laugh -- more of a barking sob, really -- leaves his throat. if only her honeyed words were true; if only his dreams were concoctions of a terrified mind, rather than a guilty one. he closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, the pale moonlight spilling from the window catches the briefest glint of tears.
❝ i don’t deserve your help, ❞ he says, though he stands, cradling his arm in a futile effort to avoid spattering blood on every surface of her guest room. he doesn’t deserve it, but he needs it. needs her. her very presence returns the breath to his lungs, stabilizes him.
if his old self could see him now ... how would the old greed feel about finding himself bleeding and crying, laying himself at sakura’s feet in hopes of mercy?
that version of himself, at least, would have never laid a hand on bido.
almost trance-like, he moves slowly towards the bathroom, navigating the darkened room with a practiced ease. he lost track of how many days ( weeks? months? ) it’s been since he came back to amestris, since sakura welcomed him home.
you don’t deserve it.
he flicks on the bathroom light, catching his own gaze in the medicine cabinet. the only color on his face is the maroon of his eyes, the pale tinge of pink to his lips. ( both his and not his all at once. ) just as stark against his pale skin, blood continues to trickle from a jagged gash in his wrist, dripping quietly onto the tiled floor below.
#verse: it’s nice to have a friend / post canon.#yinseal#fuckboy greed voice: ur too good for me babe
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obsessed with first greed being this big, hulking, absolutely ripped force of nature only for him to be 100% willing to curl up with his head in sakura's lap like he is a kitten
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I've joined an FMA zine so I draw Devil's Nest
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the name’s greed
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yinseal.
the bright morning sky clears the fog from her brain / provides a startling breath of fresh air into the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours. maybe she ought to be concerned with how fast they’ve gone / how quickly everything seems decided, but this is the most right she’s felt in months; the last time she felt even moderately balanced was before she had left, and now there’s no axe above her head waiting to fall. they’re together, and maybe the road ahead is bumpy, but it’s theirs, and she’s where she wants to be.
❝ he was really mad at me. ❞ she says, almost at random; wishes he’d take his hand off the wheel / just one, and hold her own contrarily, she’s very glad he’s giving his all to steering, what with this car’s propensity to go absolutely rogue. ❝ ling. he messaged me the night i left and … i mean, he wasn’t mean. he was nicer than i deserved. but he said you didn’t deserve what i did. ❞ silence. she pulls at the ragged edge of her cuticle, tearing at it until the pain starts to spread down to her fingertip. ❝ he was right. ❞
there’s so much more to say and more than enough time to say it; god knows she’ll be quick to put her head on the block of grief and guilt when the time comes. instead, she rolls her shoulders back / head turned on the seat to smile at greed as he coaxes his first love through the maze of traffic. ( fortune 500 couldn’t hope to do what he did. )
❝ if we stop for mcdonalds, we can head him off long enough to explain what happened. ❞
a furrow forms between his brows. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, as if an answer might slide out, rather than drag from his throat like a tendril of thorns. ❝ look, ❞ he begins softly. ❝ you can’t ━ we can’t ━ dwell on the past forever, okay? maybe i didn’t deserve it, but the point is ... ❞ he readjusts his grip on the steering wheel, sparing sakura a glance out of the corner of his eyes. ❝ the point is you weren’t trying to hurt me. or anybody. ling knows that. ❞
her suggestion draws his attention to the golden arches looming ahead. as if reminding him that it does still exist ( and yes, it still needs sustenance ) his stomach lets out a low grumble. ❝ perfect ploy. bribery works on that kid every time. ❞
greed flips on the blinker, exiting to the right as morning traffic continues its dizzying pace down the highway.
❝ if it makes you feel better, he was pretty hard on me, too, ❞ he continues, watchful eye taking in the slow shuffle of traffic through the sparsely populated part of town. he pulls into the drive-thru, almost wincing at the loud idle of his car as they wait for the person ahead to finish their order.
❝ told me if i didn’t get a haircut, he was going to buzz it all off in my sleep. ❞ he turns to sakura, raising one eyebrow. ❝ talk about traumatizing. ❞
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yinseal.
if she could tell him anything at all, she would; their silence unnerves her just as much as it seems to unsettle greed. every quiet moment of their lives / before the very last was not so much the absence of conversation, but the lull in between the rest, the break. even the first few weeks of greed’s disappearance was filled with noise; sakura had raised so much hell that it felt calamitous, filled the void with discord until eventually she had nothing left to give. they were not meant for silence.
they’re sitting what feels like a foot apart, not touching / not speaking. her fingers dig sharply into the meat of her thigh, nails clawing through the fabric of her jeans as she counts the breaths in and out her lungs. what are you thinking? that she’s ruined her life / both their lives; that she always pictured herself married / happily settled, content in her career before adding a baby to the mix; that she knows greed is working so hard to gain her trust again, but sometimes she wakes up in a cold sweat convinced that he’s left her once more, gone on the run ( it was so easy to abandon her last time, wasn’t it? the one person she never thought would. )
greed would answer with a joke, she knows; would answer with something crass and silly, would make her laugh and spin it all around so that they’d forget what they were so worried about in the first place. she ruminates on the problems; thinks on them until they make her sick / won’t abandon them until she knows the cure. isn’t that an answer unto itself? that she’s looking at this like a problem?
❝ i don’t know. ❞ it feels like such a cowardly admittance, a cheap confession that makes her stomach turn; she wants to bury her face in her hands / settles for pulling at the skin of her cuticles until she bleeds. ❝ i … know what we should be talking about. but i … don’t know what i’m thinking. ❞ a pause / a hesitation; her hand trembles in the gap between them, but loses nerve before she can grasp his, falling uselessly in the space. ❝ what about you? ❞
how can he possibly sum up the burbling cauldron of emotions in his chest? where does honesty end and his duty to reassure her begin? he runs a hand through his hair, swallowing back the treacherous lump in his throat.
❝ a lot, ❞ he finally admits. ❝ maybe too much. i’m ... i’m trying to picture it. ❞ his eyes narrow, his brow furrowing. every time he pictures a newborn in his arms, his mind shifts to the nameless, faceless blank space in his own family tree. had his own father felt conflicted? terrified? was it worry that drove him to leave his high school sweetheart behind or pure selfishness?
does the ‘why’ even matter?
❝ fuck, ❞ he groans, hiding his face in his hands. ❝ i’m thinking about my piece of shit old man and how much i don’t want to be like him. i’m thinking about my stupid job and all those night shifts ... where we’ll live ... ❞
he lets his hands fall to his lap with a dull plop. greed captures his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing at a dry bit of skin.
❝ we have a lot of options, ❞ he begins, eyes widening. ❝ and not just the main ones. unless you wanted to get ... rid of it. them? ❞ he sighs. everything that leaves his mouth sounds so uncertain and guilt-ridden that he could scream.
instead, he takes another deep breath.
❝ what i’m trying to say is, i’ll follow your lead, sakura. if we keep the baby, we’ll figure it out. lots of moms are students, and i could ... maybe i could stay with the baby, during the day. keep working the bar at night. ❞
the image begins to materialize: sunset peeking through the drapes, painting their house ( their baby deserved a house; not an apartment, certainly not a car or shelter, like he’d lived as a kid ) a kaleidoscope of orange and yellow.
sakura would come in the front door and greed, a silly apron ‘round his neck, would appear from the kitchen, just as their kid bolted for their mom, shrieking in delight as sakura hoisted them --- no her? a girl like sakura, smart and no-nonsense --- into her arms.
❝ it’ll be a lot harder than that sack of flour we kept alive freshman year, but we could do it. i know we could. ❞
#verse: passed down like folk songs ; our love lasts so long / best friend au.#yinseal#shakes my ass on the dash#i'm here to bring both pain and joy hello
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