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#so my dad could yell 'Tuck off!' and and my mom cried laughing

ashwhowrites · 7 months

Note

Dad!eddie x pregnant mom!reader who is suffering with severe pregnancy brain and she forgets to do something important and Eddie gets upset with her, raises his voice a little. He just needs a second to cool down so he leaves the house and reader is just distraught with her hormones and when he comes back he doesn’t realize he left her so vulnerable and upset it really wasn’t a big fight so his heart is broken seeing her tears so he needs to make it up to her

LOVE the angst in this. I hope this is what you were hoping for and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting<3

Missed call

Y/N was just days away from going into labor. She waddled everywhere, constantly in pain, and had a bad case of pregnancy brain. She put soap in the fridge and butter in the shower, and Eddie had a good laugh about it. She spaced constantly on the laundry, piling up. She tried to get out of the fog, but she couldn't.

Eddie was patient and understanding of it. He found it adorable how she'd walk into the room and pout because she couldn't remember why. He tried his best to help her remember things, and help around the house.

Eddie was gone at a meeting as Y/N cleaned the kitchen. Her attention was cut short when the house phone rang, she moved as fast as she could.

"Hello, this is the Munson's, how can I help you?" Eddie's PR manager talked on the other line. Y/N wrote down the important message that had to be delivered to Eddie immediately. Y/N hung up the phone and tucked the piece of paper in her pocket. Eddie didn't get personal calls until lunch, so she had a few hours before she could call.

~~~

Eddie slammed the front door as he marched through the house. Y/N easily could tell he was upset as he sat on the couch, angrily throwing his shoes. She grabbed him a beer and sat next to him. He grabbed the beer as she softly played with his hair. He felt his body relaxing as he leaned against the couch.

"what's wrong?" She asked, her fingers massaging his head.

"Tracy bitched me out for missing a meeting for a late night talk show that I had no idea about! I tried to explain that i was unaware of it but she wouldn't give me a chance to fucking speak. " Eddie ranted, going on and on but Y/N felt the guilt in her bones. Her hand reached into her pocket, the piece of paper with the message she never called about.

"Um, babe?" She said quietly, Eddie hummed and looked at her. His hand was on her knee as he waited for her to speak.

"She called the house and told me. I wrote it all down! I just forgot to call you on your break. I'm sorry." Y/N apologized, handing him the crumpled piece of paper.

Eddie knew he shouldn't get upset at her, it was the pregnancy brain. But he missed a huge opportunity because of it.

"DAMMIT Y/N!" He groaned, getting off the couch, and ran his hand over his face. She jumped at his loud voice, sinking into the couch as he paced in front of her.

"WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS NOW?" he screamed, throwing the piece of paper on the floor. Y/N felt tears in her eyes as he shouted. He was shouting around her, not directly in her face but it almost felt like it.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, tears falling down her face as she tried to stand up. She struggled but made it to her feet. Reaching for his hands. She smiled through her tears when he allowed her to hold his hands. Her hands softly held his.

"This would have been a huge opportunity for me, Y/N." He wasn't yelling anymore but she knew he was still mad. His voice was stern and low.

"I know! It slipped my head, and I completely forgot." She explained. Eddie nodded as he took away his hands. She quickly tried to grab them again but he stepped back.

"I just need a second, okay?" He groaned, throwing on his shoes as he grabbed his keys.

"WAIT! Baby don't leave! Just come relax on the couch, I'll go to the room." She pleaded. But he kept walking towards the door.

"I said I need a second. Your pregnancy brain is out of control and it needs to be fixed" He snapped and slammed the door. Y/N covered her mouth as she sobbed. She always fucked everything up because of her pregnancy brain. It was always the little things but now she cost Eddie a huge opportunity in his career.

~~~

Eddie sighed as he rubbed his face. The loud bar filled his ears as he tried to calm down. He called a friend to come sit with him, he needed to vent but couldn't stand to watch his wife cry because of him.

"So let me get this straight, your PR manager called your house phone, instead of your personal cell to deliver this huge important message and left it with your wife. The wife that is like two days away from birth is suffering from pregnancy brain, and you yelled at her instead of your PR manager? The manager should have called you in the first place." Steve explained, a frown on his face.

"Son of a bitch," Eddie groaned, smacking his head against the bar counter. "You're right. God, I am like the biggest asshole, and easily the worst husband." The guilt ate him alive. It wasn't her fault, Tracy should have called him directly if it was such a huge deal.

"Go home and apologize, own up to it, and make her feel like she didn't mess up your career."

~~~

Eddie slowly walked into the house, the lights off as he looked around. He figured she must have gone to bed, another feeling of guilt knowing she struggled to make it up the stairs.

He sighed and walked into their bedroom, a light on near the bed and her laptop rested on her stomach as she slept.

Eddie stripped off his clothes and crawled into the bed, grabbing her laptop to shut it off. He scrunched his eyebrows as he read the article she was on.

"How to overcome pregnancy brain"

Eddie closed the laptop with a sad sigh, lying down as he wrapped his arm around her. Softly rubbing her swollen stomach as she slept. He kissed her head and whispered apologies in her ear.

He'd wait until the morning to talk it out with her.

~~~

Eddie yawned as he walked down the stairs, Y/N was already out of bed when he woke up. He could hear her on the phone, her voice trembling as she cried.

"No Tracy, please! It was all my fault. He didn't miss it or anything. I forgot to tell him. You have to set something new up, like just ca-" Eddie grabbed the phone from her hand and hung it up. Her wet eyes stared at him as she tried to grab the phone.

"EDDIE STOP!" she sobbed, choking on her tears as she tried to grab the phone, but he threw it across the counter.

He wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his chest. He held her tightly and kissed her forehead.

"It's okay, shh," he cooed, swinging them back and forth as he held her. "I'm not mad and I'm sorry for yelling. None of it was your fault, and it was wrong of me to blame you."

"No! I messed it up. I'm just so stupid and forget everything."

"You're not stupid!" He argued, holding her head to make her look at him. "You are having our baby, and you've been carrying her for nine months. You are amazing. Tracy never should have left the message with you and I shouldn't have acted the way I did. You have every right to be spacey. Nothing is wrong with that or you. I love you so much. Please don't cry because of me." He softly wiped away her tears and kissed her forehead.

"I love you too." She said, cuddling into his chest.

"Now how about we take a nice bath and eat pizza" Eddie suggested, knowing that was her favorite routine to do when she was upset.

Eddie laughed as she yanked herself out of his arms and headed for the bathroom.

A few more days until their family had a new member.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst to fluff #daddy eddie munson x mommy reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #ashwhowrites #dad eddie x mom reader

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leiawritesstories · 2 years

Note

You graced us with Rowaelin and their teenage kids... but how about Rowan being the kind of dad that goes beyond to embarrass his kids 😏 in public

As you wish 👀👀

Word count: 1,225

Warnings: dad fads, language

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh my god!" Lana cried, shoving through the garage door with her face flaming bright red. "Why do you do these things?!"

"I don't have any idea what you mean, honey," Rowan grinned, as proud of himself as he could be.

She gestured broadly at his outfit--collared shirt tucked into cargo shorts, black socks, and Birkenstock sandals. And the baseball cap on his head that fortunately was just one for his favorite team, not the "DAD" one he'd threatened to purchase. "I told you to look presentable and you do this??"

"I'm perfectly presentable!" he protested, smirking. "I'm the portrait of a dad, as I should be!"

She rolled her eyes, the expression so much like Aelin's that it made him stop in his tracks for a moment. "You're so damn cringey, Dad." She didn't give him a chance to respond before she stormed up the stairs and slammed her door behind her.

Rowan sighed, removing his hat and kicking off the sandals. Gods, who the hell thought wearing black socks and sandals was a good idea?

"Guess you're not old enough to know," his wife teased.

He turned sharply to find Aelin sitting atop one of the barstools at their kitchen counter. "Shit, did I say that out loud?"

"You did indeed," she laughed, "dad."

His nose crinkled. "Fireheart, I love you, but please never call me that ever again."

She smirked. "Hey, you go out of your way to embarrass your kids, I get to go out of mine to embarrass you."

"Fair enough," he grumbled, conceding.

"Speaking of that..." She arched one brow at him.

"What?"

"Ro." Aelin hopped off the stool and came to stand in front of him. "Do you ever think you go a bit too far?"

"Uh..." He rubbed his fingers through his hair. "No?"

"Buzzard." She gave him her Mom Look. "Lana's sixteen, she's very concerned with needing to fit in, and you blaring your dad presence to the world might be amusing to yourself, but not to her."

Rowan sighed. "Why do you have to be right?"

"It's my job." She pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw. "Now go apologize to your daughter and promise not to do that in public."

"...And then he showed up like that and I wanted to crawl into the fuckin' floor and die!" Lana groaned, sprawled out on her bed.

"He does that all the damn time," Bran agreed, her fourteen-year-old brother sitting in her beanbag chair. "Gods, it's like every time he comes to pick me up from practice he's got the window rolled down and he's yelling 'I'M HERE FOR MY SON!' and I want to punch something."

Lana snorted. "I mean, it was funny when we were younger, but now? It's just--"

"Stupid," Bran agreed.

"Exactly." She rolled her eyes at him. "I guess it's kind of adorable in a way, but I don't think we'll appreciate that until we go off to college and he sends us pics of him wearing the dad hat we know he's gonna get."

"Why d'you think I wanna go to college far away?" Bran muttered.

"Cause you want to be Mr. Independent," his older sister teased.

He scowled. "Shut up."

"I'm not being rude, B, just honest." She tossed a small pillow at him, affectionately. "Besides, if and when you end up getting recruited--yeah, I know it's your dream--it'll probably be to somewhere pretty far from Orynth."

"Yeah." His expression went distant for a moment. "But that's far off, I don't need to think about it so much."

"Look who's all mature now," Lana snickered.

Bran threw the pillow back at her. "Someone has to be."

"You little shit!" she exclaimed, swatting him with the pillow.

He dodged so it only hit his shoulder and grabbed another of her many pillows, landing a soft hit to her shoulder. "I'm not wrong!"

"I'm the oldest and the most mature, boys don't get mature until they're 26," she returned smugly. "Even then, y'all are still idiots."

"Shut up!" he retorted, the great teenage default answer.

She giggled and was halfway through squishing his face between the two pillows when there was a knock on her door.

"Who's there?"

"It's Dad."

She gestured at Bran. "Go on, I'm gonna have to talk to Dad." She faced the door again. "Okay, come in."

Bran left the room as Rowan walked in, looking ever so slightly sheepish. "Hey, Lana."

"What do you need?" She tried her very best to keep from snapping.

Her father sat down on the edge of her bed. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you."

Lana folded her arms across her chest, not yet willing to forgive and forget. "Dad, do you even try to realize that I'm not a little kid anymore?"

Rowan had the grace not to respond, allowing her to spill out what she needed to tell him.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this from my friends!" Lana's voice shook. "Dad, I'm finally getting to start going places on my own, I'm finally getting to feel more grown up, and I wanted to bury myself in the floor and die. You can't just show up at the mall and do that!" She flicked a tear off her cheek. "All my friends were laughing at me! And now they'll never shut up about it and I'll be the new joke!" Angrily, she faced him. "And it's your fault."

He let her words sink in for a moment before replying. "I'm sorry, Alanna. I really am." He cleared his throat. "I, uh, you're right, I can't just show up like that. Honey, I forget how you're growing up so fast, because you're my firstborn, my first baby, and if parents had our way, our kids would stay little forever."

"But we don't."

"But you don't," Rowan agreed, "and I...I guess I've just blocked myself from seeing how grown up you are, Lana."

She sighed. "Well, I'm gonna be driving myself around in a couple of months, so you'd better get used to the idea."

He shuddered, chuckling. "Yeah, I don't know how my parents ever got used to their kids driving themselves around, I'm terrified."

She laughed softly, coming to sit next to her father and lean into his side. "Please just promise me that you'll stop dressing like that."

"All right, I promise." He looped his arm around her. "That outfit was probably the worst thing I've worn since being in a frat in college."

"God, I do not need to hear about that!" Lana protested, shivering. "I hear way too much about it already from Uncle Aeds and Uncle Lorcan."

"Those little shits," Rowan grumbled affectionately.

His daughter snickered. "Thanks, Dad."

"Of course." He ruffled her hair. "I really am sorry, Lana. I'm the real grownup, I should think before I do something stupid."

"How the hell did Mom let you out of the house?" Lana asked, genuinely curious to know.

Rowan smirked. "She didn't see me leaving."

"Of course she didn't," Lana sighed, her tone and posture an exact replica of Aelin's disappointed stance.

It made Rowan jolt--gods, she was exactly like her mother. "Stop growing up so fast," he mumbled, unexpectedly a little emotional.

She huffed a laugh, her mouth curving up into a half-grin. "Don't think I can, dad."

~~~

TAGS:

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@autumnbabylon

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@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

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@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

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@booknerdproblems

#my writing #answered prompt #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #and kiddos #rowaelin #rowaelin family #the whitethorns

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citygirlcharlotte · 2 years

Text

The Sister Halstead (Part 10)

Masterlist

Pairings: Hank Voight x Female OC, Will & Jay Halstead x Sister!OC

Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was only 3 pm, there’s no way he was supposed to be back this early.

“In the bathroom, be right out!” I yelled, trying to stall.

I contemplated looking at the test now or throwing it off to the side but eventually decided it was better to know than to not.

“Don’t faint, don’t faint” I chanted, working up the courage to lift the towel. Immediately, a million terrible scenarios popped into my head of the absolute worse outcomes of this action and the most heartbreaking one was going to be having to raise a baby alone.

What if Henry doesn’t want to be a dad again? God knows between Justin and Erin there must be some trauma around fatherhood. But what if its negative and I’m just fucking with my own head?

Deciding to end my own suffering, I faced the music and picked up the towel. There lied my future and the biggest shock of my life.

It was positive and I was going to be a mom. I ended up dropping the test in absolute shock and felt an overwhelming urge to throw up at the bottom of my throat. The sound of footsteps moving into my bedroom did nothing to help.

Finally, I couldn’t hold it in much longer and slid down to the floor in a heap of quiet sobs. I buried my head into my sleeves, willing them to conceal my cries and not alert Henry. I can’t tell if it was by crying or just taking too long that prompted Henry to start knocking on the bathroom door.

“Sweetie?” he called out.

I knew if I were to answer him, my voice would give away my state of being. Unfortunately, after no response, he got worried and opened the door anyway.

“Baby what’s wrong?” He asked.

Without hesitation, he joined me on the floor and brought me into the most comforting hug I have ever experienced. I tucked my head into his neck and continued my cried incase this was the last chance I had to be his close to him. In case I ended up losing him after today.

Every time I tried to open my mouth to offer some kind of explanation, a range of uneven breaths and hyperventilating came out instead.

“Breathe with me.” He instructs, trying to calm down my state of panic.

When I was able to form some kind of steady breath, I finally found the courage to look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I spoke. No one sobs come out of me, but I was left with quiet tears running down my face.

“What are you apologizing for beautiful?”

“Because you’re going to hate me.”

“How could I ever hate the woman I love?” He chuckled, as if I just told him about the most ridiculous thing in the world.

I reached into my hoodie pocket where I hit the life changing test and gently slid it into his palm.

“Because of this.” I whispered.

I subconsciously moved backwards, putting some kind of distance between us in case he was upset. God knows I wouldn’t blame him if he was.

The silence was not something I expected to be the most painful part. I almost wished he would burst out into anger and start yelling or something but instead he just sat there, staring at his girlfriend’s positive pregnancy test.

Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to say something.

“Oh Honey.” He whispered.

I looked up into those beautiful eyes of his and found that they were also full of tears.

“I’m going to be a dad again?” he asked.

“Yeah, you are.” I said with a small smile.

Out of nowhere, he pulled me into a big hug and tucked his head into my chest.

“I can’t believe this.”

“Really? With the amount of sex we have, you can’t be totally caught off guard.” I questioned, trying to make light out of a very difficult situation.

I got a muffled little laugh out of him before he removed himself from my chest and looked me in the eyes.

“How do you feel about this?” He asked me.

“I’m scared. I found out 10 minutes before you walked through the door so I haven’t processed anything, but I was more scared about what you would think.” I confessed.

“What I would think? Honey, I would never leave you over a baby. Sure, I’m shocked but I would never leave you.” He reassured.

I felt the elephant sitting on my chest disappear as I launched myself into his arms. I couldn’t help the tears of joy that soaked into his shirt in this moment.

“Now what are these tears for?”

“Happiness. We’re going to be parents Henry.” I sobbed, a small smile gracing my lips.

He didn’t even give me the chance to continue before he pulled me into a searing kiss that expressed just how happy he was in this moment.

Of course, none of this is going to be easy but as long as I have Henry by my side, we’ll make it through this.

---

Is 10 weeks pregnant too early to start thinking of names? Henry and I just returned from a very incognito doctor’s appointment where it was discovered that I was about 3 months along. Henry got a smack on the arm for making a joke about knocking me up the first time. I guess that’s when I learned that plan B while you’re already ovulating is absolutely worthless.

Henry ended up taking the day off for the appointment which rose major suspicion with his team, especially Jay. We’ve been able to keep our relationship pretty tightly under wraps, so besides my family and Nat, no one else knew. With the amount of enemies Henry says he has in this town; I’m inclined to believe that this is the best option. Especially with a baby on the way.

Speaking of babies, we were going to have to find a way to tell my brothers sooner rather than later. We’ve known I was pregnant for about a week and a half and the best way to tell my family was constantly on my mind. Henry was convinced my father was going to kill him and my brothers help hide the body.

Any planning that could possibly be done was derailed when my parents announced that they were coming into town and wanted the 4 of us to stay the long weekend with them. That meant driving an hour upstate to my parents’ house on the lake. It is a beautiful property, do not get me wrong, but being under my parent’s roof while hiding a massive secret was going to make me sick.

“Should we tell them at the same time?” I asked Henry.

“I don’t know but I feel like your parents need to get to know me before we drop this bomb on them.” He suggested, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around my waist.

Ever since we found out, this man has been touching me every chance he gets. Not that I’m complaining though, having my Henry as a cuddle fiend was a great end of this deal.

Eventually, it was time to head up to the house. As excited as I was to have my parents meet my brothers and Henry, I was shitting bricks the entire time.

“You guys sure you don’t want to ride with us?” I asked Will as I spoke with him on the phone.

Jay and Will were planning on driving up a little later, having to finish work before they could take the long weekend.

“I’m sure hon, we’ll be up soon. I’m excited. Jay is too, he just won’t say it.” Will laughed.

They were both surprisingly on board with meeting my parents and spending 4 whole days with them. For Will, he was lured with the promise of a great round of golf. Jay, a much simpler man, was more excited to get some fishing done on the lake. My father was a big enthusiast and immediately offered to take Jay out on the boat.

Henry was just plain nervous. We ended up facetiming my parents a few days ago and they now know that he is a considerable amount older than me. Thank God my parents are more open minded than most and I got a text from my mom afterword with a winky face saying he was cute.

It’s going to be awkward given that he and my dad have a 10-year age gap but I’m hoping they get on like best buds.

“You want to stop for food first?” He asked as we pulled out of the parking garage.

“Yes please.”

One great thing about being pregnant is that Henry doesn’t like it when I lift a finger. This includes driving for the most part. Given the number of curbs I’ve hit prior to being pregnant, I think my poor range rover was more than happy to be given a break from my driving.

A milkshake and a burger later, we were on our way upstate to my parents’ place. It was my grandfather on my dad’s sides house and being that my father was his only child, was passed down to him when grandfather died 10 or so years ago. When we were in Illinois, we’d split time between here and Chicago, but it’s been sitting for the better half of a year at this point. Thank God for the staff that keep it looking its best.

“Is that Miss Lahey in the flesh?” One of the security guards asked as we pulled into the neighborhood.

“Frank! It’s been so long.” I smiled, taking off my seatbelt to lean over Henry.

“How are you doing Hunny? Your parents got in last night, I think. Swear I heard their chopper when I was doing the nightly rounds.” He laughed.

“I’m doing well! I’m back in Chicago permanently. Frank, this is my boyfriend, Henry.” I introduced.

“Nice to meet you sir.” Henry smiled, offered a handshake.

“The pleasures all mine! Long gone are the days of you sneaking out isn’t it, Charlotte?” He laughed.

God those were the good old days for sure.

“No sneaking out this time but there’s going to be another coming through for us later this evening. I gave them all the info they need but just so you’re aware. They’ll be in a black pick up.”

“Sounds good Miss Charlotte, I’ll see you two later.” He smiled.

“Thank you, Frank!” I hollered as we drove off.

I gave Henry directions to the house and eventually we stopped in front of home sweet home.

Henry stared at the house blankly before turning back to me.

“What?” I asked, already unbuckling and ready to get out.

“This place is massive.” He stated.

“That is correct, not get out and come meet my parents.” I laughed.

My dad’s assistant was able to meet us in the driveway and take our luggage as we proceeded to the front door. Before I could even climb the stairway, the front door burst open, and my mother came running down the steps.

“My baby!” She yelled, wrapped me into the biggest hug I’ve had in a while.

It felt really good to be hugging my mom again after nearly 10 months away.

“Mom!” I yelled back, wrapping my arms around her.

Henry smiled at us, taking in his surroundings when my dad pulled up out of nowhere.

“So, you’re the Henry that has my daughter swept up off her feet, huh?” My dad asked.

Charles Lahey was a tall and fairly intimidating man, even for Henry Voight.

“Yes sir.” Henry replied.

“No need for the formalities, we were probably born in the same decade.”

Taglist:

@royaltysuite @jadakiss13 @ego-allie-bap @acdassenza @alldaysdreamers @sande5098 @50-21upstead @justaproudslytherpuff

#chicago pd #hank voight #hank voight x reader #jay halstead #jay Halstead x reader #will halstead #will Halstead x reader #chicago fire #chicago med

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blue-eyed-bloodstains · 2 years

Text

Do you listen to Johnny Cash? no, I only know like one or two of his most popular singles but I respect him a lot, very talented singer/songwriter and a legend If you could live on any other planet, which one would you choose? umm idk? Have you ever visited a haunted house? actual ones? no, though I know for a fact that several ones I’ve lived in growing up definitely were Is it currently nighttime where you are? nope, hitting 7am Pancakes or waffles? or french toast? french toast

Do you struggle with your weight or body image? every day.... Is there anyone you can honestly say you trust with your life? I can’t even trust myself given suicidal tendencies...but yeah, a few What’s one of your irrational fears, if you have any? hmm I guess that I’ll die in a freak accident...think along the lines of Final Destination kinda thing What’s something you’d like to tell yourself 5 years in the past? to talk Zach out of taking this job when he lands it months later cause he’s barely gonna ever be home,,, What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to? I can’t decide just one so Alexz Johnson, JoJo, Evanescence, Paramore... Have you ever seen a sinkhole in person? not that I can think of What’s the first thing you’d do with $1 million? get a new car, pay off debt, get into college What is something that people would be surprised to learn about you? not sure, I guess my medical issues since it’s not exactly obvious What motivates you to get out of bed each morning? ha...good one What does a typical day for you look like? mostly curled up on this couch watching Roku, on my phone, yelling at the cat to get off the table, talkin to Mom on the phone several times throughout the day, smoking

What has been your most memorable embarrassing moment? oh god, where to begin lol I’ve got a lot of em, many of which over the last several years I was drunk (at home, rarely anywhere else but a few of those too) When did you last laugh until you cried? it’s been a minute... What is your motto or personal mantra? don’t have one Have you ever purchased something off of a mannequin? no What’s one of your guilty pleasures? watching Public Freakout vids on Youtube :P What’s something that’s on your bucket list? traveling, especially my roots (Italy and Ireland) What makes you laugh the most? stand up comedy

What was the last gift you gave someone? Christmas gifts for my dad and stepmom which I nailed for once! :D What are you most known for? fucking up and being a black out drunken alcoholic If you had to throw a themed party, what theme would you choose? Harry Potter What’s a good karaoke song? depends on the mood and vocals Name a random fact about anything. severe dehydration can actually be fatal What’s your favorite animal? I love all animals What TV show would you like to star in? not like to but I’m honestly surprised I was never on Intervention for drinking.... Do you ever meditate or do yoga? neither Do you ever forget where you put your belongings? sometimes What’s something that gives you a lot of energy? not much When was the last time you cleaned your bedroom? years Do you know any good riddles? no I suck at them Do you sleep with your door open or closed? open always Have you ever stolen a street sign or traffic cone? no Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out? out When was the last time you used a coupon? no idea Do you always smile for pictures? yeah, forced most of the time Do you count your steps daily? no How many hours of sleep did you get last night? been up all night so none Would you ever pose nude for a magazine? hell no When was the last time you felt hot? all the time cause of my CVS, overheat constantly it’s hell What color are your sunglasses? black Is it currently silent where you are? no got music blaring and singing along jamming while I do these lol Have you had a grey cat as a pet before? no Do you own any pink sweaters? no Do you prefer sitting or standing? sitting definitely Do you enjoy fruitcake? I guess, depends on what kind How about cherries? yassss Do you like croc shoes? hell no Do you mind if people pray for you? not really, up to you if you wanna When was the last time you were sick? more like when am I not? CVS fuckin sucks man it’s damn near every damn day chronically and no fuckin treatment or cure so gonna be a lifelong struggle, already had it 8 years so just beginning still :( What is currently on your bedside table? don’t have one Do you suffer from insomnia? severely, yeah What is your safe place? home I guess but when left to my own vices alone more often than not with him out of state for work? wouldn’t exactly say safe... What’s something that makes you cringe everytime you see or hear it? silence...I can’t do it, panic attack and breakdown like a motherfucker Did you ever used to play pinball? no Do you miss phone calls often? not really, the only one who really ever calls is my mom multiple times every day so When was the last time you lit a candle? it’s been a minute but definitely need to sometime soon Do you consume a lot of sugar? mostly through drinks yeah, not much food wise What was the last thing you misplaced? one of our remotes How often do you wash your hair? way less than I should Who did you last smile at? my fiance on his way out to the airport for a job on Monday Tell me a story or fun memory. not in the mood What scent is your current hand soap? don’t have one Have you ever had a buzz cut? I shaved my head last summer (2021) so yeah How much are you willing to spend on shampoo and conditioner? the cheaper the better, as long as it lathers real good cause my hair is thick as hell

#survey #about me #bored

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xxsabitoxx · 2 years

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Kamaboko Squad as parents

Thank you for the request anon!

Contains no smut lol

Tanjiro

The dad everyone wants as their dad

Being the big brother of his family, he’s ready to play along with his kids

You’ll find him running around the yard playing tag with them or hide and seek

He’ll kiss their bumps and bruises and tell them everything is okay

He’ll wipe their tears and sing them songs very off tune to make them laugh

He trusts his kids 1000%, so if someone ever accused them of something and they tell him they didn’t do it? He believes them and will back them up with no hesitation

He built a strong bond with his kids, they trust him enough to tell him everything. They know better to lie to him.

He’s the type of dad that can read you like a book, he knows the second something is wrong

He isn’t quick to anger, unless they lie

He is a sweet and caring dad who rarely raises his voice. On the very few and far between occasions where that’s occurred — he feels really guilty for it

Nezuko

The “normal” mom … Sorta

Similar to Tanjiro, being the big sister of the family often left her with motherly duties when her mom was busy

While Tanjiro was the “man of the house” and doing everything he could to help them get through, he still found time to play the big bro role and play with the kids

Nezuko was always on mother duty, when she wasn’t she was sewing and helping the younger ones bathe

So when she has kids of her own, she is definitely more playful with them

She’ll be down on their level, playing games, singing songs, fake wrestling, everything lol

Even thought she’s super playful, she is also very stern

She trusts her kids like Tanjiro trusts his kids, but she’s always worrying about them (she can be a bit overbearing once they get older)

She also doesn’t really open up to them about her past until they are much older (12-15 ish)

Just like Tanjiro, she doesn’t raise her voice very often at all.

Zenitsu

The nervous dad

The baby cries? He cries.

“Oh my god are they okay?” While tears are streaming down his own face

This lasts even into their teen years

The nervousness never eases for him, no matter how old they get

He will always tend to their bumps and bruises, all the while they are comforting him because he won’t stop sniffling

He will raise them up and play airplane until he physically isn’t able to anymore

He reads them bed time stories based off of his own adventures

Even when his kids are well into their teens, he will still kiss their forehead and tuck them in before he goes off to sleep

He encourages them to do whatever their heart desires

When it comes to dating though? Absolutely not. No one is allowed to date in his household

Ironic isn’t it?

Inosuke

The dad that acts like one of the kids

He has…no authority over his kids

But some how, it works?

His kids gain respect for him because he’s him…it also helps that his partner is a little more stern

His kids LOVE him, like always want to be with him. They are 1000% daddy’s girl/boy

He cherishes his kids so much

He’s always making them laugh

When his first kid was born, he actually cried

He didn’t think there was anything in the world that he could care about so much, but holding that little baby in his arms changed his life

He never punishes his kids, he leaves all of that to his partner

Not a dad head canon, but all of the kids love him and call him uncle piggy — he prefers king uncle piggy

Kanao

The sweet mom

Yelling? She’s never heard of that

She struggles with motherhood for a bit, she never thought of her biological mother has her mother for obvious reasons

This leaves her trying to fill in gaps and figure the whole thing out on her own. Eventually she gets the hang of it

She wants to be everything her motherless childhood lacked. Giving her kids the life she wished she could have had. One with no pain and suffering

She loves her kids so much, they help her come out of her shell even more.

She always has food waiting for them, she doesn’t like them having to wait for food

She sometimes falls asleep in their beds with them or let’s them come sleep in her bed

Her kids are her whole world

Genya

The awkward dad… he’s trying

Oh boy, he is a mess when his first kid is born

He is a huge softy and instantly that little baby has him wrapped around their little chunky finger

It’s heartwarming to see him interacting with his kids (Sanemi sees old Genya come back)

He always has his kid on his shoulders

They go to him for absolutely everything because they know he’ll say yes.

he’s a bit of a push over when it comes to his kids

Which is funny because his appearance would say otherwise

One of his biggest fears were his kid’s being afraid of his appearance — turns out he had absolutely nothing to worry about

He — like Inosuke — is the well loved uncle. Poor Zenitsu lol the kids are a bit afraid of him

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fluff #demon slayer imagines #tanjirou #Tanjiro #Kamado Tanjiro #nezuko #kamado nezuko #Zenitsu #agatsuma zenitsu #inosuke #inosuke hashiriba #kanao tsuyuri #Kanao #Genya

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batfamtv · 3 years

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i’ll put a flower in your hair -finnick odair

before finnick odair became the capitol’s sweetheart, he was just a buck-toothed little child who loved the sea too much, and was completely mesmerized by the person who pushed him into the water when he was seven years old.

finnick odair x reader

a/n: listened to lucky by jason mraz and colbie cailat + my hunger games renaissance

all things considered, finnick considers himself lucky.

except in many cases, of course: being reaped at such a young age of fourteen, winning at the cost of his soul, losing his family, and the horrendous things he did for the capitol.

but long before that, long before finnick learned how to charm people, how to extract secrets, how to kill, he first learned how to love.

age 7

love came in the form finnick hadn’t expected. you were a tiny little thing, small and chubby and feisty. he knew you because you went to the same school he did, and he remembered that you also used to go to the pier every afternoon once school ended.

that was how he (not so) formally met you: laughing excitedly as you ran towards the pier, your backpack swinging behind you. you took it off as you reached the pier, and finnick looked at you curiously. “what are you doing?” he asked.

“i’m gonna jump!” when you grinned, finnick saw that one of your front teeth was missing, and was surprised to see you looking at him expectantly. “well?”

“well what?” he questioned.

“are you gonna jump with me?”

he shook his head, muttering about his mom becoming mad if he soaked his clothes. but you only rolled your eyes, singing a mocking tone, “you’re just scared!”

“no, i’m not!” he stomped his foot, now standing with you, teetering at the edge of the pier. the water below is clear and inviting. finnick gulped, suddenly nervous about jumping from that height, and his mom definitely wouldn’t appreciate it if he--

with a scream, you pushed him over the pier, watching briefly to see his head resurface from the water before following, doing a cannonball.

finnick laughed, and you did too. you held his hand as he guided you to his house, and you explained to his mom (who still narrowed her eyes at finnick) that it was your idea.

you waved at him, “let’s play mermaid again tomorrow!” and finnick was all too excited to race you from the school to the pier the following day.

“is she your girlfriend?” his father jokingly asked.

“yes,” finnick huffed. he has a girlfriend now.

age 11

you keep laughing at finnick whenever his voice cracked, and he kept screaming at you to stop (causing his voice to crack). he splashes you with water and you try to swim away, laughing ecstatically.

at this age, you both learned how to dive deep into the waters, which was how you found a shell that you secretly fashioned into a necklace and gave to finnick for his 12th birthday. he hasn’t taken it off since.

finnick noticed the tropical jasmines growing by the sea, and made it a habit to pluck one every day, and tucking it behind your ear whenever you two sit together along the pier. he never told you, but your smile always made him warm and happy, and thought you were absolutely the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

whenever you two say your goodbyes as the sun set, you would always wave both arms frantically, yelling at the top of your voice, “i love you!”

finnick cupped his mouth, yelling “go home!”

“i love you finnick!” you insisted.

the tips of his ears growing red from the teasing looks his parents were giving him, he screamed, “i love you too!” and heard a joyous “yay!” from your direction.

age 14

when finnick got reaped, it was impossible to calm you down. your face was red and swollen and tears and snot flowed down your face as you held onto him tightly, making him swear to come back to you. he was absolutely nervous, but also tormented by the sound of your anguished cries.

he kissed you on the lips to shut you up, and the beating of his heart didn’t calm down.

and when he came back, he wasn’t quite the same, but you weren’t either.

you told him you loved him, and he cried in your arms.

the morning after, you open your door to finnick, with another tropical jasmine in his hand. he tucked it behind your ear, and whispered so quietly, “i love you too, y/n,” before leaning down to kiss your lips sweetly.

age 25

finnick watches you walk towards the shore, both of you relieved that it didn’t get destroyed. he trails behind you, watching in awe when he could almost see your seven year old self pushing him over the edge before jumping into the water yourself.

he is lucky, he thinks. so lucky to have fallen in love with his best friend.

you turn towards him, a tropical jasmine tucked behind your ear, grinning at him. “come closer!” you said excitedly.

finnick narrows his eyes at you, thinking for a second that you might push him into the water again, but you grab his hand and placed it on your growing bump. you wait, and suddenly feel your baby kick into their father’s hand. finnick grins at you, and you share the happy moment together, before he leans down to place both his hands on your tummy, “hi, baby. it’s dad.”

the baby kicks again, and you both laugh in delight.

he’s lucky, finnick thinks. so lucky to have you in his life. so lucky to watch this sunset with you, feeling your baby move from inside your stomach. he is excited for the future, excited to be a father. his love is now generous. what’s one more person to give his heart to?

#hunger games imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #thg imagine #batfamtv

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harveywritings92 · 3 years

Text

BNHA Dad scenario: Someone hits you.

Summary: You're around 8 playing or trying to get you parents attention, someone hits accidentally or on purpose, your father took exception to this. and decided to return the favor with interest.

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Shigaraki: All the senior members of the league knew who you were and knew to never mess with Shigaraki's princess, unless they wanted to be a pile of rot on the floor.. however there were was a newbie about 18 years old who just recently joined had no idea who you were and thought you were some street brat and the resident punch bag, so imagine his surprise when he demanded you hand over your Gameboy, and you told him to go suck a lemon bad move.

You were kicked in the ribs sent airborne toward the wall and crashed into and fell to the floor clutching your stomach in pain. "Next time I ask for something you give it to me you little brat!" the boy sneered before looking down at your crying shaking body and heard you calling out. "Daddy...daddy..." He started laughing at your wailing and tried to get everyone else on his side, but no one moved they just stared at (dickhead) in horror he looked at them all confused.

"C'mon what the hells wrong with you guys?" as you were hyperventaling as the door to the back opened in stepped Shigaraki who looked around the bar confused why everyone was so quiet before hearing you crying and wheezing and his red eyes zeroed in on his daughter on the floor and (Dickhead) walking over to him with this shit eating grin holding your Gameboy …

"Hey boss you like gaming, you got any-" Shigaraki shoved him and made a bee-line towards you and he crouched down carefully helped you sit up , you were clutching your ribs. "D-daddy.." you stammered as your dad shushed you and pulled your shirt up, if they thought Tomura was mad before they were wrong! the second he saw the large bruise on your stomach, he saw red... "it's all right Princess Daddy's got you." he cooed picking you up ( he's got gloves on) keeping your face tucked in his shoulder.

Shigaraki then turned towards (dickhead) who's cocky grin turned to a confused pout as he tried processing what was going on, as your dad started slowly walking towards him, stoned faced red eyes alight with rage as he brought his free hand up to his mouth taking his glove off with his teeth, (dickhead)'s face slowly contorted in horror as he realized you weren't some random brat they picked up off streets!

You were his boss's kid! and he punted you across the bar for a toy! "Hey-I-i didn't know man,-s she can have it back-" the last thing he saw was Shigaraki's hand coming for his face, everyone in the bar looked away or down at their drinks "Someone clean that up." Your dad ordered as he calmly put his glove back on and stepped over a pile of dust and clothes as he took you to the doctor to make sure that waste of an NPC didn't break your ribs.

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Kirishima: You were both at the bank you were off to the side fidgeting with your dress waiting for your dad to finish up at the teller and decided to wander around the lobby, checking around if there any candy bowls around here, when you bumped into another adult a balding mad who's back was to you, "oops I'm sorr-" You were cut off by a loud crack! and suddenly you found yourself floor clutch your stinging cheek stunned as this angry red faced man screamed in your face. "I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THE FUCKING CAR (random boys name!)!?" You there was tense ringing in your ears as you burst out wailing as the demeanor changed as he finally got a good look at you and in horror realized you were a little girl and not his son.

"uh-r" Just then Red blur came running at him and he was punched in the jaw by rock hard fist that sent him flying through the bank's glass door by a very pissed off Eijirou, who looked like was gonna kill him before he felt she daughter hug his leg, which she does when she wants to go home, his red eyes looked down at you the back the man who was being check on by the bank security, then back to you starring back at him tearfully, your dad took a deep breath picked you up and kissed the bruise forming on you cheek, and told manager he'll pay for the window. "YOU'RE MEAN!" you screamed at the man who hit you who was now awake with his actual son who was a teenager was standing awkward to the side looking embarrassed, the man flinched when your dad shot him a glare as you both passed him.

A week later the jerky dad had the gall to try taking your dad to court, the judge got one look at the security footage and your still healing face and laughed in the guys face and threw the case out.

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Dabi: Your mom was the owner of his favorite Dive bar, They don't ask questions and he don't give answers, Anyway mom had stepped out to get weekly restock delivery and left Dabi in charge, things were wrapping up for the night when you had wandered down from the upstairs apartment way passed your bed. "Hey ,Firefly what're you doing up?" he said picking you up and sitting you on his lap.

"Was the music too loud?" You shook your head he hummed you weren't feeling well and woke up, went looking for one of you parents, he felt how hot your forehead was under his chin and frowned. "Want some ginger ale?" he aske rubbing your back you uh-huh'd as your dad leaned over the bar grabbed a glass and went to grab the dispenser hose for the ginger ale.

Meanwhile some scantily dressed chick who been eyeing your dad like a hungry dog all night was angerly made her way over, in her drunken haze she saw another woman cuddled up to him instead of a little girl, stomped over to bar and before Dabi could register what was going on a nasally voice sneered "Get off my man whore!" and a manicured hand suddenly reached out and grabbed a fist full of your hair and tried yanking you out of his lap!

"Eek Daady!" You screamed in pain as your dad whipped around "What the hell?" Dabi snarled grabbing the woman's arm and using his quirk to burn her, the painted hussy let out this pterodactyl like screech and let go of your hair, then you threw up on her legs causing her to scream louder "My shoes!!!?" she shrieked and went to hit you, but Dabi had ignited his hand and stopped her.

"Get the fuck out, before I melt your fucking face..." Dabi hissed as you held on to him like a baby koala crying and shaking like a leaf, Your dad watched the bouncer throw the bitch out, while she bitched and cried about knowing the owner and how he'll beat Dabi's ass. "And then you'll sorry!" she wailed as the bouncer shoved her away. "Oh we'll see about that..." Dabi mused as he tried calming you down and making sure she didn't hurt you too badly.

True to her word the bitch came to complain to the owner not realizing that A. the owner was a woman, B. they were Dabi wife, and C) the mother of that "midget whore" who barfed on her fake designers shoes. Dabi watched from the upstairs window calmly sipping his morning coffee as the woman said her sob story and demanded compensation!

He smirked as your mom nodded calmly put the empty keg she was carrying on her shoulder down on the sidewalk, and without saying a word deck the woman in the face knocking her out cold. "There's your compensation..." She huffed then calmly picked the keg back up and put it on the truck, Dabi whistled at her "Say babe, have I ever told you how much I love you?" he said watching her from the open window your mom blushed flipped him off, he chuckled he could see her smiling.

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Katsuki: it was Kirishima it was you birthday and he was showing his quirk off to some of the kids when you ran into his elbow, knock on your butt sat there for a few seconds as your uncle and parents fussed over you, Eijirou was apologizing to you asking if you were alright? you just stared at them blankly before grimacing, causing your mom to bring her hand up towards your mouth and like that you spat a tooth out into the palm of her hand, her [y/ec] eyes widened while your dad and and uncle started freaking out...

Well.... more like your dad had uncle Kirishima by the shirt collar threatening to destroy him! while Eijirou came saying how sorry he was and it was an accident! while they were yelling your mom checked your mouth carefully counting your teeth, then sighed in relief before turning your dad. "Katsuki...." your dad didn't hear her as he was telling Kirishima to pay for you dental work!

"Katsuki." she tried again, but he was too far gone. "Alright you asked for it!" she yelled finally getting Katsuki's attention when he realized she was going use her quirk. "Hon, wai-" too late your mom snapped her fingers and your dad, still holding Kirishima, was frozen in place. Your mom calmly brought you over to your them and had you open your mouth and show him the "Damage" your dad's red eyes looked at you then back at your mom who was holding the tooth. "He knocked out that tooth... we were gonna have, y'know?" His eyes widened as he realized Shitty-Hair had knocked out a stubborn baby tooth that refuse to fall out, and were gonna have it pulled next week...

Your mom unfroze your dad and he dropped Kirishima before taking the tooth to examine it, making sure it really the right tooth, and he seemed to calm down, muttering an apology to Kirishima, then whispered something to you mom that made her blush. "You better be ready for it..." he purred in her ear, while you stared up at your parents confused. "Ready for what?" you asked innocently they both froze before Kirishima grabbed your hand. "say kiddo, let's see if (Kirishima's kid.) wants to play!" he said making a hasty get away with you.

#bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #shigaraki tomura #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #touya todoroki #daughter reader

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

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kuroos-world · 3 years

Note

Not to be basic but can I request domestic dad hawks x mom reader? Like a chill day with their kids teaching them how to fly:,) thank you!!

Hey! Okay so I love this idea sm, I’m working on your second request now but here’s the Dad!Hawks for you! I hope you like it :) Masterlist

Saturday’s - Dad!Hawks

Saturday Mornings were peaceful, being able to sleep in with your husband. Limbs entangled in the sheets and his wings wrapped softly around you, shielding you from the sun shining into the room. Waking up slow to kisses and giggles, gentle touches and words of love.

At least that’s how Saturday Mornings used to be, now they were filled with two little chicks jumping on your bed leaving sloppy wet kisses on your cheeks and laughing excitedly in your ear. They were pestering you to wake up and feed them, “mommy! We’re hungry!” They whine to you as you rub the sleep from your eyes, “tell daddy,” you mumble, “he makes better breakfast,” your husband, barely awake mumbles back, “not true,” but still the two of you get up padding your way towards the kitchen while Keigo scoops up his twins and follows your lead. Your husband plays music softly as you start breakfast, he struts over to you and pulls you to him. The two of you dance around the kitchen, his hair is fluffy and tousled chest bare and wings as puffed up and fluffy as his hair. He swirls you and twirls you while the two of you are making eggs, your twins giggling as they watch. “Mommy up!” Your son, Yuki, calls to you making grabby hands, and your daughter, Yumi, does the same to Keigo. “Try flying to us!” Keigo tells them when he sees the way their small wings flutter in excitement. And the twins try, each making it a foot or two off the ground before dropping back down, “hmm looks like they’re ready to learn” you hum softly in Keigo’s ear. He agrees and the two of you grab a child each and dance around the kitchen, Yumi giggling loudly as her father spins and dips her. Yuki and you sway as he tries to lead, “mommy follow my steps!” He pouts and you laugh, kissing his cheek softly before plating the food, “why don’t we practice flying today?” “Yes! Yay!” The twins yell excitedly, their wings fluttering and sending red feathers all over the table.

As promised, after breakfast you get the twins ready and the four of you go outside, setting up a little picnic in the grass. Keigo flies Yumi up to the rooftop while you sit in the grass with Yuki on your lap. Yumi being the timid girl she was, needed lots of encouraging words from her father, who was more than happy to oblige. He spoke to her with so much care, “you got this birdie! I believe in you, and I’ll be right there with you the whole time.” He steps off the ledge flying a few feet back and encourages her to fly to him, trusting her father she steps off the rooftop and flying on her own before the fear catches up to her and she starts to fall. “Daddy!” She squeezes her eyes closed arms reaching out for her father, Keigo catches her with ease and the girl cried while he whispers loving words to her, “oh birdie you did so good, I’m so proud of you love,” landing he hands her off to you and she cuddles into your chest. “You did so good birdie!” You whisper and run your hands through her hair, meanwhile Keigo takes Yuki up, he was so determined to learn so he could teach his sister. “I can do this! I need to help Yumi!” He says, face full of confidence, matching the one his father wore, “you’ve got this kid! It might take a few tries so don’t get discouraged okay bud? I’ll be right here to catch you if you fall,” he ruffled his sons hair, Yuki nods feeling confident having watched his father closely for a long time.

So when Keigo encourages Yuki to step off the edge, the boy already knows what to do. He steps off flapping his wings a few times to stable himself before stretching his wings out as he glided over to Keigo, “GO YUKI!” You and Yumi yell from down below, excitement filled the air around you. Keigo and Yuki stayed up in the air until Keigo felt confident Yuki wouldn’t suddenly drop to the ground. Then you climbed onto the rooftop with Yumi and watched the two boys race above you, Keigo letting his son win. Once Yuki got tired the four of you sat bunched together eating the snacks you brought up, your husband holding you close as you listened to Yuki tell your sister how fun flying was. After snacks Yumi was ready to try again, this time you sat alone as you watched the twins and Keigo fly all around you.

You all stay there a while talking, laughing, and flying around the neighborhood, and you end the day cuddled on the rooftop watching the sun set. The twins fast asleep, Yuki with you and Yumi with Keigo, the two exhausted from the fun day they had. Keigo pulls you and Yuki closer to him, he kisses you lovingly and then lays his head against your shoulder, “I love you Keigo,” “And I love you my dove, and our two crazy chickpeas”

You take the twins to bed, tuck them in, place soft kisses on their heads and then make your way to your bedroom, Keigo by your side. The two of you take a quick shower, talking about the upcoming week and about who will be picking up the kids from school and which days. Then you slide into bed, cuddling up to your loving husband, “Today was perfect,” you mumble against his chest, “you’re perfect,” he winks down at you, “Keigo, you really are the best father and husband, we’re really so lucky,” Keigo’s heart fills with love, “I’m going to give them everything I never had,” you kiss him, and the two of you spend the rest of the night talking, and cuddling. Nothing will ever beat the feeling of having your husband by your side, nothing except for the two kids who sneak in to squeeze between the two of you. “Goodnight mommy, Goodnight daddy,” they whispered, “Goodnight my birdies,” you reply and Keigo covers the four of you in the protective shield of his red feathers, and you fall asleep to the whispering of your happy little family.

#mha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha x reader #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks headcanons #hawks fanart #hawks smut #hawks x you #pro hero hawks #dad!hawks

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jinnie-forthe-winnie · 3 years

Text

Princess

Part 1 (months 1-6)

Jin x oc

Pregnancy au

Word count: 4.5k

I didn’t know what gif to use so here’s jin and his giant baby🥰

Jin and Hana had met during the year 2013, just before Bangtan had debuted. She had been with him through thick and thin, the highs and lows and everything in between. With Jin constantly going on tour and his military service coming closer the couple had decided to wait until after at least one was out of the picture before settling down and starting a family. Well that is until someone else came into the picture.

Month 1

For the third day in a row Hana had woken up her husband Jin as she ran to the bathroom. Without much thought Jin throws the covers off of himself and rushes to follow her. Navigating the way proved to be difficult with his blurry vision and groggy state of mind, the light in the bathroom is the only clue as to where to go.

As he enters the bathroom he is met with a view of his wife kneeling on the ground, head over the bowl letting everything out. The sight is enough to unsettle his own stomach.

Ignoring the queasiness he grabs her hair from her face and pulls it back behind her head, tucking the strands behind her ear. He grabs the elastic from his own wrist and ties it lightly around her hair.

A quiet thank you is heard in between the gagging. He sits down beside her and the toilet and lets his arm rest on her back, rubbing slow circles to comfort her in any way he can.

After a few minutes the worst of it seems to have dissipated, and she can now comfortably lift her head away. He reaches up to the handle and he once again flushes the remnants away.

“I’m sorry Jin, I didn’t mean to wake you up” she says bowing to him lightly then going down to rest her head on the seat.

“Honey, you know it doesn’t bother me!” He says holding the side of her face giving it a light squeeze. “I would do anything for the love of my life, you know that love, right?” He says smiling to her, his head mimicking the angle her head is on.

She lightly giggles and gives him a matching smile back. “I love you” she says reaching her hand out, his hand comes and grabs her giving it a tight squeeze.

“I love yo- oh no! Over the bowl honey!” He yells out as he sees her rushing to get her face over the toilet. He laughs and rubs her back while grabbing some tissues from the cupboard. He wipes her spillage up and continues comforting her as she lets more and more out, seemingly never ending.

“Don’t worry Love, Shrek always said Better out than in!” Jin says, making her laugh while she regains her composure.

Once she is finally done she hits his leg as she gets his help to stand up. “You are so annoying, you can even let me throw up in peace.” She says grabbing a plastic cup and filling it with water from the tap. After gurgling multiple times she and Jin go back to bed together.

A couple minutes go by while the couple lay facing each other in bed, their feet the only part touching. Jin speaks up asking her something that’s been on his mind, “Hana, I think you should take a test.”

She gets nervous from his statement, she knows exactly what he is saying but she just doesn’t want their very unplanned plan to be messed with. “No! no more math tests, I finished those years ago!” She yells out to him making him let out a chuckle, but she feels his stare on her face making her nod back. “Yeah, Yeah I should,” she says quietly.

“You know I love you, no matter what.” He says putting his arm around her hip pulling her an inch closer to himself.

“Yes, and you know I love you, as long as you behave right?” She says.

“Yes mom” he says, turning away from her in the bed. She laughs and starts spooning him.

Later that day Jin and Hana are sitting together on their bathroom floor holding each other’s hand tightly. The three tests they bought that morning sat on the counter, waiting for the timer to reach 3 minutes.

Hana’s eyes are trained to the floor in front of her, her mind off in another universe trying to forget the reality of the moment. Jin however keeps his eyes on his wife and every few seconds it shifts to the timer set. Each second goes by slower and slower, after what seems like ten hours the timer hits 3 minutes. Jin squeezes her hand bringing her back to their world.

“I love you no matter what, Okay Hana” he says softly trying to ease her stress.

“I love you too” she says before taking a deep breath. “I’m ready if you are” she says while standing up avoiding looking at the counter.

“Ready as I’ll ever be” he says as he slowly gets himself up from the ground. Jin leans down and gives her a kiss before grabbing her hand and pulling her to the counter.

The three tests all lay in a line, their eyes scan over all three. Each one with a positive result.

“Oh my goodness Jin!” She yells out before hiding her face into his chest, his expression turns into a happy one as he holds his wife. His arms rub her back as he feels the tears soaking his shirt. He tucks his face into her neck and gives it a kiss.

“We did it baby” he says smiling while placing more and more pecks all around her neck. “We’re having a baby” he cries out, his own tears now running down her neck.

“We gonna be parents” she says as she pulls her head out of his chest trying to meet his eyes as he lifts his head back up.

“I can’t wait for our princess to be here,” Jin says, putting his hands on her flat belly. He kneels down and kisses it, he says a quick hello to the baby before he rises and gives her a kiss.

“Mmmh I think you’re right about a baby girl” she says before returning his kiss.

2 Months

After a month of keeping the news a secret they finally decided to share it with their families. Both sets of parents were over the moon for a grandchild, especially since it was both of their youngest having kids first.

Jin’s brother cried when he heard the news, causing Jin to make fun of him and his soft heart. Though Jin's sister in law and Hana’s sister both started jumping for joy when they found out. Each of them grabbed her belly and asked to help plan the baby shower.

Now with their immediate family knowing the news they finally decided to let his Bangtan family know. Their plan was to slowly give out clues during dinner until someone figured it out.

They were all sitting in the dorm's dining room just about to start to eat, their final additions to the table was all that was left.

“I need some wine, does anyone else want any?” Jungkook asks, making his way towards the kitchen.

Jin cuts him off before he can make it there, “no alcohol Jungkook, Hana can’t have any so don’t tease her” he says putting his arm around her while looking at him from across the room.

“Since when? Didn’t she go out with us not four months ago?” Jimin asks, pouting his lip in confusion.

“Oh this started recently, it’s just for a couple months that I have to stay alcohol free, probably better for everyone” she says shrugging.

The older three eye the couple suspiciously while the younger boys start digging into their food. Jin and Hana give each other a look and let out a quiet laugh before beginning to eat.

Once everyone starts eating they start having conversations amongst themselves, their suspicions lessened as time moved on. Only Yoongi was keeping a strong eye on Hana.

He began to notice how much larger her appetite had been from the last time he saw her, not even a week ago. She was shovelling food into her mouth as pleasantly as she could manage.

Jin catches Yoongi’s eyes as he puts more food on her plate, he whispers something into her ear. From what he could read on his lips he said something along the lines of, eat up, princess needs lots to eat.

“You’re pregnant?!” Yoongi blurts out, catching everyone at the table's attention. The couple stare at him for a moment blankly, before Hana breaks into a laugh and Jin pouts.

“Pay up Jinnie, I told you he’d figure it out first” she says putting her hand out. Jin stands up and goes to his jacket and grabs his wallet. He places a ten thousand won bill into her hand. “Can’t believe you thought Jungkook would figure it out first”

“I had faith in him, I thought he’d know when his playmate was coming!” Jin says, letting out a laugh.

“Wait so you are?” Hoseok’s voice says breaking the couple's banter.

“Yep, we got a bun in the oven” Jin says smiling brightly to his brothers. All the boys excluding Jungkook got up happily and ran to give them hugs and congratulations.

After everyone got their hugs, the couple noticed Jungkook sitting in his seat with a small pout on his face.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong honey?” Hana says walking over to his chair, as she waits for his response she brushes his fingers through his hair.

“I thought I was your baby! I already share you with Jin, now I have to share you with a baby” he says crossing his arms, his face trying to contain the smile he is dying to let out.

“Oh Jungkook,” she says as she leans her head down to his ear and whispers something to him.

“Deal!” He says and then stands up and hugs her. He then rushes over to Jin and squishes him into a hug lifting him up from the ground.

Hana laughs and goes back to her seat and starts to eat again. With the baby she had begun eating double what she used to, normally this early on pregnant ladies couldn’t eat much but she on the other hand could eat a whole horse given the chance.

“Well congrats Jin, I’m very happy that you get to have this opportunity with Hana!” Namjoon says, smiling and holding onto Jin’s shoulder. “If you’d like, I can talk to management with you.” He offers being the leader he is.

“Thanks, we can talk to him together soon.” Jin says, patting his arm. “And thanks for all your guys congratulations, I can’t wait to be a dad and for all of you to be an uncle!” He says to the whole group.

3 Months

Now that Hana had reached the third month of the pregnancy, she had started her second trimester. Now there would be more appointments coming up for the couple to attend. With Jin’s busy schedule he can’t make it to all of them but luckily he could for the most exciting to date.

They could finally listen to the baby's heart beat!

Hana had just reached the start of the second trimester of her pregnancy. Her eating was the same as the first trimester although she could no longer stomach garlic (which made eating at home easier as Jin was already allergic to it).

Jin had become over the moon when he was finally able to come to an appointment with her. He had been so caught up with practicing since the tour was so close, that he didn’t have enough time. But now on a Sunday evening they got the time and went into the clinic to finally see the baby.

Hana had been offered many times during her ultrasounds to see the baby but every time she refused since she wanted Jin to see their baby for the first time at the same time.

Inside the clinic the couple were in one of the rooms along with the sonographer. Hana was laying on the hospital sized bed with her shirt pulled over her still flat belly. The sonographer had the jelly already smoothed out on her stomach; the cold feeling had worn off after the second time.

Jin was eagerly waiting on the bedside with his hand holding hers tightly. His eyes stay locked onto his wife’s figure, never leaving her body, not even when the sonographer talks to them about her habits and feelings.

“I have a feeling you don’t really want to talk to me today” the sonographer says, letting out a laugh as she looks at Jin, only now catching his attention. “Would you like to see your baby?” She asks.

Jin's eyes light up as he looks quickly down to his wife seeing the same light in her eyes. “Yes please!” He says to her while still looking at Hana, he gives her a squeeze on the hand and lifts it up and places a kiss on her knuckles.

The sonographer smiles fondly at the couple as she starts setting the screen up for them to see the baby. She breaks the moment as she places the device back onto her stomach moving it to the right spot, before turning the screen fully for them to see.

“Jin and Hana meet baby Kim” she says as she holds it in place.

“That’s our princess right there Honey!” Jin let’s out, most of it coming out as a soft cry. His eyes have tears threatening to come out.

“There she is,” he whispers as he lowers himself to the bed, his elbows leaning against the bed. He scoops their intertwined hands up with his other one, the ball of hands serve as a hiding place for his face. He lets his tears out into his hands, occasionally kissing any part of her hand he can find.

Hana admires the picture for longer, the blob in a baby shape brings a smile to her face. Tears slowly leave her eyes in happiness, not only from the baby but seeing his reaction.

She knew he had wanted a baby for so long, months into their relationship he had mentioned how much he wanted kids. Unfortunately with his work he didn’t have the time, or the privacy to live out the dream the way he wanted. But he wouldn’t change this experience for the world, he was so happy with everything they had right now.

4 Months

“Jin!” Hana's voice yells out from the kitchen. Since it’s still early in the pregnancy he knows it shouldn’t be something major, as long as it isn’t one of her mood swings that always seem to come when she’s hungry.

“I’m coming Hana!” He yells back as he starts going down the stairs to her voice.

“Well hurry up!” She shouts out sounding a little too grouchy for his liking. His slow walk turns into a jog not wanting to be on her bad side.

“I’m here love, I’m here” he says slightly out of breath as he enters the kitchen. “What is the matter?” He asks, eyeing her figure that is staring into the fridge.

“Where are the pickles?” She whines out turning around to give him a view at her upset face.

Jin walks forward to the fridge to grab the giant jar he bought two days ago for her, “there is a giant jar in there Hana!” He says while searching around the fridge for it. “Where are they?” He whispers out.

“I ate the jar already, now they're all gone.” She says frowning to him, tears spilling from her eyes.

Jin leaps up and brings her into a hug. “Honey it’s okay we can get more pickles!” He whispers into her ear like a sweet nothing, “it’s okay”

“Can we go shopping right now?” She asks while crying into his shoulder.

“Yes we can baby!” He says happily trying to cheer her up.

After a much longer than anticipated shopping trip, Hana has her pickles (enough to last a month at the rate she is going) along with a large tub of ice cream and many many different types of chocolate snacks.

Obviously shopping with a hungry pregnant lady is not the best thing to partake in. But as long as she was content and healthy Jin couldn’t help but be happy.

Jin carries the bags of pickles and chocolate from the trunk of the car into the house. Hana opted to only bring in the ice cream and one singular jar of pickles.

Jin sees Hana already opening the ice cream container as he walks into the kitchen. He laughs seeing the jar of pickles open with a few pickles cut up.

With the pregnancy she seemed to gain some super human abilities of being able to make food at lightning speed. She also was now able to pickle jars with no issues.

She also gained some odd cravings during the pregnancy. The most recent one was pickles and ice cream, but mainly pickles and Strawberry ice cream with chocolate sauce drenched on top.

“Having your usual lunch?” He asks continuing to stuff the pickles into the already filled fridge.

“Mmhmmm” she hums to him, her bowl nearly overflowing with all her ice cream. “Want to try some?” She asks him while reaching around him to get to her chocolate sauce that is in the fridge.

“Are you willing to sacrifice me ice cream and pickles?” He asks skeptically.

“As long as you make sure the fridge is always stocked up then you can have it all the time” she says grabbing another bowl out of the cupboard.

Jin sighs he wasn’t actually planning on trying any since she had never let him even have one singular pickle in the past week. He watches as she prepares him a big helping of ice cream (tiny compared to hers) and places a full pickle worth of slices into the bowl.

She grabs the bowls and brings them to the dining table, Jin follows behind shortly after with the chocolate sauce in hand.

“Eat up hun” she says smiling at him.

“Thanks honey” he says while grabbing his spoon and hesitantly scooping up some of the ice cream, a pickle on top in its glory. His stomach grumbles at the sight, but unlike Hana it is not because he can’t wait to devour it.

“Wait Jinnie! You forgot chocolate sauce” she yells while tipping the sauce over top of his spoon. It lathers the spoonful and covers what was seen before, almost making it easier to get, almost. He waits as she covers the rest of the bowl in the sauce before he even attempts eating it.

He brings the spoon to just outside his mouth, he pauses watching her chomp down on her giant spoonful. Her cheeks flush seeing him watching her as intently as he is.

“Don’t look at me like that, eat it” she says while covering her nearly full mouth.

“I didn’t actually want any,” he says, his ears turning red.

“I know!” She laughs out, “but I thought you might as well have some now, cause if you don’t eat it all I will have it” she smiles at him.

“Have it” he quickly says, pushing his bowl over to her.

“You have to eat the spoonful though” she says seriously.

“Woah calm down, I’ll have it mom” he says raising one arm up over his head and the other up to his mouth.

“Okay let’s see it baby!” She says enthusiastically, making him roll his eyes. “Hey, no attitude! Eat your food now!” She says semi sternly.

He sighs and slowly brings it up to his mouth, he closes his eyes and opens his mouth. His hand waits for a second before her hand starts pushing it faster to his mouth, only a second later the spoonful is fully in his mouth.

One second is all it took to taste the awful mixture.

He gets up and runs off down the hall, Hana can hear his gagging but stays planted in her seat.

“That’s what you get for trying to tease me for my cravings” she mumbles, “more for me” she shrugs and starts eating again.

5 Months

Early Saturday morning Hana was wide awake getting changed into some nice clothes to attend their family gathering later that night. As she was about to button up her blouse she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Her eyes widened seeing her body, she slid the blouse of her arms and set it down on the bed. She went closer to the mirror to get a better look at her now visible baby bump.

She looks into it sideways to see the curve that her stomach takes. It was hardly noticeable but when looking for the bump it was clear as day.

Their little (possible) princess was now big enough for her to be found, this thought made Hana so happy and emotional. She smiles with teary eyes at her reflection.

Unknown to Hana, Jin is awake and gazing with so much love at her and the baby. He quietly gets out of bed and walks up to her.

As he reaches behind her she can see him in the mirror, she turns her head to him but stays standing the way she was before.

Jin pecks her lightly on the lips and then back hugs her, his head sits on top of her head. His hands cup the very small bump, both of them smile seeing how small “she” still is.

“Jin?” She asks, looking him in his eyes through the mirror. He hums back not wanting to divert his attention from the bump. “This feels like a picture moment,” she says.

He doesn’t respond but when he leaves the room it tells her yes, he is going to get the camera he got years ago that he has been using to document their life together.

After a few minutes he comes back with the camera and a Polaroid camera. She smiles at him knowing he wants the picture for his wallet, currently he has a photo of them on their wedding day, some dates and the ultrasound picture inside.

No words are spoken as the two set up the cameras, neither of them thought through the idea of how to make it look good with the cameras inside the picture.

After many failed attempts filled with bad angles, awkward faces, wrong timing, and horrible camera placement they finally get a few that they can live with.

Jin’s Polaroid caught his favourite picture, Hana didn’t know he was taking the picture so it is just of her cooing at her bump in the mirror.

6 Months

Hana quietly opens the door to the rehearsal room where the boys of bts are practicing for a performance. Jin refused to leave her alone at home after she had been complaining of a headache that morning.

So he brought her into work and took her to the lounge and let her lay down and told her to come see him when she felt better or if she needed anything.

Hana finds a spot along the mirror to sit down and lean against it. Once finding a comfortable way to sit with her now (much bigger) visible bump she watches the boys start practicing ON.

She smiles seeing Jin dancing and lip synching his parts. Half the smile is from seeing him doing what he has grown to love and the other half is the proud feeling of seeing him grow into a great man, and soon to be dad.

While watching them she feels a soft tap on her stomach. Her head whips down to look at her belly, her hands that were already sitting there are now shaking. After a few seconds she feels another little tap close to the same spot. Her shocked expression morphs into a happy face.

She slowly gets up off the ground so she can get Jin. Normally she would never interrupt their training but right now she was too happy to let anything stop her.

“Jin!” She yells out her voice filled with joy. All the boys stop and look over in confusion, but Jin rushes over to her once seeing her very happy expression.

“What is it love?” He asks laying his hand over her hand that rests on her belly. She says nothing as she moves his hand onto the spot where the baby had been kicking.

She looks into his eyes as she feels another one, his face lights up with happiness. His eyes grow wide and look teary knowing the baby is healthy and moving around.

He looks up and pulls her into a tight hug, but not too tight not wanting to crush both of them. He leaves a bunch of kisses over top of her forehead and hair, his excitement very obvious for everyone in the room to see.

All the boys are watching from afar at the couple with a heartwarming feeling seeing their oldest member living out one of all of their life dreams.

Jin let’s go of her slightly and moves one hand from her back to on top of her bump. He chuckles when another kick happens as soon as he touches it.

“She loves me more!” He says sticking his tongue out at her teasingly.

“She spends more time with me so who does she really love more?” She says sticking her tongue out at him mockingly.

“I don’t force her to hang out with me unlike you” he says accusingly.

“I do not!” She says exaggerating her pout. He laughs and pulls her back into a hug. They stay holding each other for a moment until she becomes an emotional wreck for a moment when thinking about the timing.

Jin stands confused while hugging her, his wet spot on his shirt keeps growing making him worried. “Hana what’s wrong?” He asks softly not wanting to set her emotions off again.

She turns her head to the side and puts her head over his heart listening to the beating to calm herself down.

“Princess must have heard the music and wanted to dance like her daddy” Hana says to him in a sad voice making him laugh at her for getting emotional over that. “Don’t make fun of me” she whines which succeeds at making him laugh even harder. This causes him to get a smack on the chest which only hardens his laugh.

Permanent Tag list:

@jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger @softbobamilktae

#bts imagines #jin fluff #jin bts #jin #imagine bts #imagines Jin #kim seokjin #kim seokjin bts #bts seokjin #seokjin fluff #Jin fluff bts #dad bts #bts pregnancy #jin x oc #jin imagine #jin imagines #imagines bts #bts imagine

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wpdarlingpan · 3 years

Note

I have a suggestion! What about pan or jerome valeska kiddnaping the reader/oc? Ik its pretty basic, but maybe pan kidnapps her to obress Emma and Jerome kiddnapps her because he is fond of her appearance yk? Maybe a little bit yandere style.

Thank u I hope you like my suggestions!

Thanks for my first suggestion! I hope it’s good :)

Please let me know if there is something I should fix for later suggestions. Be it my writing style, or if you’d prefer me to make an OC for the story.

Also TW with just a mention of how Greenwood is charged with Rape and Murder. It’s only the mention and will not be brought up further.

Now on with the story.

Background information: Y/N is the daughter of Jim Gordon and Barbara. She isn’t associated with Barbra since she went slightly crazy. She considers Lee like her mom. Her dad is very over protective since he’s seen the dark side of Gotham. She is 18 years old and somewhat shy/innocent from being protected by her dad.

“Bye dad! Love you!” Y/N yelled out as she approached the front door of their apartment. She was hoping to leave before her dad could give her the talk she always got before leaving the house but luck wasn’t on her side. She also felt the teeniest bit of guilt for rushing out so quickly as she and her dad had a good relationship and she knew he was just trying to protect her.

“Wait.” He spoke coming down the hallway into the room. He knew she didn’t like the fact she had to go over rules before she left the house but he’d been even more nervous since there was a breakout at Arkham.

“Yes?” Y/N questioned.

“Got your phone?”

“Yep.”

“Charged?”

“100%.”

“House key?”

“Definitely.”

“Emergency money?”

“Right in my pocket.”

“Pepper spray?”

“Yep and with the safety on so I don’t accidentally spray myself... again.” She spoke while looking down sheepishly.

“All right love you kiddo. Remember what I said about those people who broke out yesterday.”

Jim spoke while lightly kissing the side of her head and let her go to school.

“I remember. Also love you Always and forever dad. Don’t forget you have a date with Lee later!” Y/N reminded before closing the door to make her way to the Gotham High school. Her dad had bought her a car so she would be more safe getting to and from school as he didn’t trust city busses or taxis. She didn’t mind though it was nice and she was able to play some music while she drove.

Once she arrived at the school she saw the cheerleaders loading onto the bus. She was a photographer for the yearbook and it was one of their first football games for the year so they send her to photograph for the team. She was way to shy to actually try out for it. Once double checking if her car was locked she put the keys in her pocket and made her way to the bus with her camera looped around her neck.

She got on first as the rest of the cheerleads were talking outside the bus with the coach. Y/N sat in the very back with her feet up next to her as a sign of ‘do not sit by me’ she was rather short so it was comfortable as well. She then pulled out her phone and began to text her dad that she was safely on the bus. He replied with a quick ‘ok’ and ‘be safe’ then she started to play a game on her phone as the cheerleaders began to load onto the bus. Once everyone was on the bus they drove away from the school at the cheerleaders were practice their cheers. The. Whole. Ride. It was beginning to get on her nerves as she preferred the peace and quiet but she knew that being on a bus with cheerleaders would be anything but. She grabbed one side of her headphones and began to play music. She lightly tapped her fingers to it and looked out the window.

They drove for about 20 more mins before they were stopped. A red truck had pulled in front of them and people approached the truck. She spotted guns in their hands. She quickly dialed her dads phone and begged for him to pick up.

“Y/N? What is it?” He could tell by her erratic breathing that something was wrong.

“There are people with guns on the bus! They just shot the driver. We are on (random Gotham street) please hurry!”

“I’m on my way! Try and stay on the line.” She said a quiet okay she a boy with red hair entered the bus. Jim quickly ordered police officers to make their way towards the scene.

“I want you all to know... this was a very difficult decision for us.” The boy spoke as he waved around his guns as if it was a toy. Y/N had already ducked down in her seat after a different person had handcuffed them to the seats. She wanted to stay out of of the seemingly ringleaders point of view as she watching her phone continue to hold the call with her dad and her headphone was in on low in order for him not to hear the phone. She still listened from her other ear to be aware.

“It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party.

In the end, we decided to skew a little younger.” He spoke while putting the gun to one of the girls heads. He walked towards the back of the bus as he continued his speech. She heard him coming and quickly tucked her phone into her pocket along with the headphones.

“Youth won the day. Sorry.”

He had reached the back to the bus and was about to turn around when he saw her tucked into the seat. She was very small and if he didn’t know this was a high school bus he would have thought she was a kid. She looked up at him with terrified doe eyes and he looked at her with a smile. He liked her. The innocence in her eyes that made him swoon. She clearly wasn’t like his whore of a mother. She would make a good partner.

“And who might you be.” He spoke while he used his charm. He lifted her chin up lightly with his unoccupied hand as the gun still rested in the other. She scooted as far away as she could with the handcuffs keeping her in place.

“Y-Y/N.” She stuttered out in fear. She was trying to hide not stand out. He moved her hand away from the start of the handcuffs and brought up his gun to which she began squirming at as it was raised.

“Shh, just going to get these off.” He attempted to comfort but it was honestly more frighting what was he going to do.

He shot the handcuffs and the bullet got lodged into the seat as she was detached from the seat but still had the cuffs around her wrist.

“You’ll be coming with me Doll.” He spoke while tugging her up from the seat as the cheerleaders continued to cry at the situation.

“No!” She attempted to struggle but she was too small to get away. But he held onto her. He tugged her out of the bus before giving her to Aaron. Since he didn’t trust Greenwood with his girl. Not like he trusted Aaron any more but he wasn’t charged for rape.

Aaron obeyed and tightly held her as Jerome put back on his crazy face and went back onto the bus.

“Give me an "O"!” He shouted to make fun of them.

“I said, give me a "O".” He shot the roof of the bus making the cry harder.

“O!” The cried out through their tears.

“ Give me an "N".” He spoke again with enthusiasm

“N!”

“Give me another "O"!”

“O!”

“What does that spell?” He questioned while greenwood handed him a hose that would spray gasoline out from the truck they had stolen.

"Oh, no!"

He walked up and down the isles of the bus and sprayed each and everyone one of them with gasoline while they all screamed in fear.

He finished and walked out of the bus and grabbed a lighter from his pocket.

“Ready? Okay!” Jerome said as he attempted to make the lighter work. The flame wouldn’t appear and Y/N continued to struggle in Aaron’s arms but for the man it was nothing. Dobkins was bouncing in his place with anticipation.

But it never lit.

“This is so embarrassing.” Jerome spoke harshly. He was making a fool out of himself in front of his girl.

“Anyone got a light?” He requested from the group of cheerleaders. Y/N was questioning if he really expected them to give him one since he was trying to kill them. He walked off after they all cried out a ‘No’ and winked at Y/N as she looked at him making her glance away hoping for her dad to hurry.

“I do. I got...” Dobkins replied while reaching into his own pocket to grab a lighter.

As Dobkins went to hand Jerome the lighter sirens sounded and police pulled onto the scene. She began struggling more as Aaron held her with one hand and shot with the other with little to no aim.

She saw as her dad got out of the car and quickly held up his gun. His heart stopped as he saw his daughter in the hands of one of the Maniax.

“Stand your ground, boys. They can't shoot at a bus.” Jerome smugly told the crew. He glanced at his doll to see her struggling still while eyeing one of the officers.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Jim quickly yelled in fear one something hitting his daughter or the bus.

“Dad!” She yelled out as she attempted to kick Aaron but did little to no damage.

Jeromes eyes widened with surprise. Jim Gordon had a daughter? This would be two birds with one stone. He smirked as Jim looked panicked.

“Aaron, Greenwood, get the truck started. And pass me my girl.” Jerome demanded. Y/N was shoved towards Jerome who caught her with a arm wrapped around her waist. He spotted her phone in her pocket and tossed it onto the pavement so they couldn’t be tracked nor could she call.

The officers had ducked behind their cars as Jerome shot at them.

“We're gonna blow this barbecue stand, huh Doll?” He told her as he tugged her towards the truck as her dad tried to follow before he was shot at again.

Greenwood sat on the outside holding onto the bus with the hose.

“Light 'em up!” Jerome spoke as he turned around and made a round motion with his arm to Dobkins who struggled with a lighter as well.

Jerome laughed manically as he got into the truck with her on his lap to which she blushed making him smirk and they began to drive off leaving Dobkins with the police.

Soon they were out of view and Jim quickly drove the bus away from the flames that had fought when the lighter was dropped. He needed to get his daughter back.

Y/N had a blind fold put on her as they left the scene to head back to Galivants building. Once they arrived Jerome picked her up bridal style and carried her into the building. He was stopped by the man himself as he headed to his room.

“And whose this?” He questioned quite poshly. She couldn’t recognize the voice but it seemed familiar.

“My girl.” He replied looking Galivant in the eye with a murderous look, daring him to say she couldn’t stay.

“Fine. But she stays in your room. Wouldn’t suggest having her out here with Greenwood.” He spoke before walking away to his office. Jerome laughed at even the thought of letting Greenwood anywhere near her. He brought her into his room and sat her on the bed. He quickly locked the door with a key to which he placed in his pocket before removing the blindfold.

Y/N blinked to adjust to the light and when she did she quickly scrambled back on the bed, away from the boy in front of her.

“Oh Y/N your never getting away from me. Not now, not ever.” He spoke before laughing crazily making her whimper and her eyes water. She curled up in a ball in an attempt to shield herself away from the boy.

“Well Doll, welcome to your new home. By the way, the names Jerome. Jerome Valeska.”

Y/N began to shake, her dad had told her about his interview. She should have for the hint from the fact of his unsettling laughter.

She was utterly screwed.

Let me know if you’d like a quick part 2

Also, please suggest things to write 😁

#jerome valeska #gotham #story prompt #oneshots #jerome valeska x reader #jim gordon #male yandere #love at first sight #writing

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mgg-theprettiestboy · 3 years

Text

my girls

matthew gray gubler x fem!reader

request: REQUEST FOR FLUFFY DAD MATTHEW HEHE!! you and matthew are in bed cuddled up in the morning and just talking, then your 4 year old(imma name her adria but you can change it!!) daughter comes running in the room and throws herself on the bed with you two. matthew grabs her and starts tickling her and is all around being the BEST dad. matthew and adria go and start breakfast while you shower. when you come and go into the kitchen they are singing and dancing, matthew is doing most of the cooking but lets adria put in the chocolate chips for the pancakes. Yall have a wonderful morning together and at the end maybe you tell matthew that you want another baby but a boy this time and he’s like okay! as soon as yall get adira down for her nap matthew carries you to your guys room and says “baby time now.”

FLUFF!

in which matthew is the dad of the year

warnings: insinuation of sex, getting a little handsy ;)

the best feeling in the world, and you would argue this until you died, was waking up in matthew’s arms. your head tucked under his, with both your arms wrapped around him, and his around you, while your legs were tangled together; it was perfect.

you heard him yawn softly, so you hummed and nuzzled your face into his neck, “morning.”

“hmm, morning,” he mumbled. his morning voice made you feel things.

“how much longer do you think we have until we’re interrupted?” you asked, and matthew smiled, “give it ten minutes. any longer than that and somethings up.”

you nodded in agreement, sighing happily as your husband traced patterns on your back lightly with his finger. his voice broke the peaceful silence, his voice dreamy, “you’re so pretty.”

you pulled your face out of his neck to look up at him, meeting his gaze as he smiled softly at you, “and don’t you dare try deny it. you’re the prettiest woman in the whole world, bubba.”

“hmm, and what about adria?” you asked, propping yourself up with your elbow. he moved his hand that was on your back to your side, humming, “she’s the prettiest girl.”

“good answer,” you laughed, and he grinned.

“i know,” he said, before pushing you back down on the bed, hovering over you as you giggled. your giggles quickly turned to soft moans as he began to kiss down your neck, sucking at those sensitive spots that drove you insane.

“tickle fight?” adria’s voice came from the door, and matthew slowly moved his face back from your neck, before smiling at your daughter, “sure is. and daddy won.”

you gasped, “that’s not fair, you’re stronger than me. i didn’t stand a chance!”

“save mommy!” adria yelled, before letting out a battle cry as she barrelled towards the bed. you didn’t know how a four year old could move so fast, but she was a miracle of movement, your daughter.

next thing you knew, she had jumped on top of matthew at the end of the bed and was trying to tickle him, but instead was screaming with delight as her father tickled her instead.

“mommy, help me!” she cried out, and you quickly scooped your daughter into your arms and sat back up at the top of the bed, laughing as you wrapped your arms around her, “i got you, baby.”

matthew pouted, “you stole my princess.”

adria stuck her tongue out, making matthew gasp dramatically, which made her giggle. you patted your daughter’s back, “okay, up you go addy, mommy’s gotta go for a shower.”

“momma,” she whined, wrapping her little arms around your neck, “stay.”

you gave matthew a pleading look, but he was one step ahead of you, standing up beside the bed, “ok, i’m going to start making the pancakes then.”

“pancakes?” adria’s head turned to her father, and you grinned. he was the best dad, and he always knew exactly what to do. you were one lucky woman. matthew nodded, “mhm. i’m going to put something extra special in them too.”

“blueberries?” she whispered, mesmerised by the mystery of the pancakes that her father was creating. he shook his head, “even better.”

“what is it daddy? can you tell me?” she asked, standing up on the bed to stand beside her dad, her eyes wide. he nodded, leaning down and whispering something in her ear as you watched with amusement. she gasped and covered her mouth, as matthew nodded. she moved her hands away to whisper, but you could hear her as she spoke, “can we surprise mommy?”

“sure thing, sweetheart. you wanna help me make breakfast? that means whenever mommy’s done in the shower, the surprise pancakes will be ready to eat,” he said, and she nodded, her little brown ponytails bouncing, “yes yes yes! smart daddy!”

he chuckled and lifted her into his arms, before looking to you, “we shall see you after you shower.”

“sower momma!” adria grinned, and you laughed and nodded in agreement. you stood, kissing adria’s forehead, before kissing matthew, and then heading to the bathroom.

after a quick shower, you opted to put on leggings and one of matthew’s sweaters, before heading downstairs. you could hear your husband and daughter from upstairs, grinning at hearing them singing.

you peaked your head into the kitchen, to see matthew doing a very dramatic rendition of ‘part of that world’ from the little mermaid, and adria clapping her hands as she sang along from the counter. he used a wooden spoon as a microphone, pretending to pass it over to adria as she sang off-key.

“mommy!” she squealed when she saw you, hopping off the counter. you gasped as you began to move, but matthew was closer, and quicker. he managed to catch her with one hand, the other hand holding the bowl of pancake batter. he let out a sigh of relief as adria ran over to you, clearly unbothered. you lifted her up, sighing softly as well as you hugged her, “you have to be careful addy, you almost hurt yourself there! what if daddy didn’t catch you? you’d have a bump on your head.”

she pouted, before turning to face matthew, “thank you for catching me dadda.”

matthew smiled softly, walking over to both of you before squishing both of adria’s cheeks with one of his hands, “that’s okay addy. next time, just ask for help, okay?”

“mkay,” she said, giggling as her cheeks were squished. she turned her face to look up at you, “watch a movie, mommy?”

“which movie?” you asked, and smiled as you watched her tap her chin in thought. she was such little drama queen. she definitely took after her father.

“lil mermaid!” she yelled, before squirming until you set her down again. you smiled as you watched her sprint into the living room, smile widening when you felt matthew hug you from behind, “why don’t you two go watch the movie while i finish up breakfast?”

“sounds good. i love you,” you hummed, leaning your head back to kiss him softly. he returned this kiss happily, murmuring against your lips, “i love you too.”

you smiled as he moved his hands to your hips, pecking his lips once more. you gasped as you felt his hand squeeze you ass, whacking his arm as he grinned.

you rolled your eyes, smiling as you walked into the living room to see your daughter standing in front of the tv, gripping the remote with both her hands and pressing buttons while she tried, and failed, to find the movie.

she perked up as she saw you, holding out the remote, “mommy! help pease?”

you smiled, nodding as you took the remote, before scooping her up in your arms as she giggled in delight. you sat down on the sofa, adria in your lap, as you turned on the movie for her. it kept her attention for five minutes, before she jumped off of your lap and ran to one of the many baskets of toys in your house, beginning to pick out toys to play with.

matthew walked in with two plates, and adria dropped her toys as she ran and jumped onto the sofa. he laughed, handing a plate to you and a plate to your daughter, “chocolate chip pancakes for my two favourite girls.”

you pretended to gasp, looking to adria, “chocolate chip?”

adria nodded excitedly, “yes! daddy’s idea, and i and i and– i got to put them in!”

“wow! good job addy,” you smiled, beginning to eat your pancakes. matthew went back into the kitchen to get his own plate, before joining you both on the sofa as you all ate. adria went back to her toys after she ate, running around the sofa as she sang along with the movie, as she swung her dolls around. matthew moved the plates to the side, before pulling you close as you both cuddled together, chatting as you half-watched the movie.

“we made a cute kid,” you mumbled, smiling softly as you watched adria play. he smiled as well, nodding in agreement, “we really did.”

“maybe we should make some more,” you said, glancing up at him. he looked to you, before his smile widened, “yeah?”

“yeah,” you nodded, and he leaned in and kissed your cheek softly, “i like the sound of that.”

you grinned, before moving to nuzzled your face into his neck as his hand began to rub your back. after a while, you felt him move before chuckling, and you moved your head to see what he was looking at. adria was sitting down and playing with her dolls, but her eyes were closed.

“are you tired baby?” matthew asked, and adria shook her head. you had to bite back a laugh, “you wanna come here and cuddle with mom and dad?”

she nodded, dropping and dolls and rubbing her eyes, before standing and waddling over to you guys. you both pulled her up to you and wrapped your arms around her, as she whined softly, cuddling into her parents. matthew moved to lift her so she was against his chest, pulling back slowly before walking upstairs with her. you turned off the tv, tidying up a little before following them up the stairs.

you reached adria’s room just in time to see matthew tuck her into bed, kissing her head softly and ticking her hair behind her ear, “daddy loves you so much, baby girl.”

“love you too,” she mumbled out, before closing her eyes completely and rolling over in the bed. he smiled, kissing her head once more before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. you smiled up at him, “you’re such a good dad.”

he shrugged, smiling bashfully, “it’s not always so easy.”

“don’t i know it. she can make it hard sometimes,” you laughed. you took a step back as matthew took a step towards you, and did it again, until he had you pinned against a wall. you bit your lip, before gasping as matthew picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. you laughed, shaking your head as he took you back to your bedroom and making sure to close the door behind him.

“we’ve got a few hours now. i figured we could get a head start on the baby making,” matthew said as he threw you back on the bed, making you grin and nod, “i want a baby boy this time.”

“i’ll try my hardest,” he joked, making you laugh, before leaning down and kissing you deeply.

–

i’m soft

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

Cradle | Sakusa Kiyoomi, Iwaizumi Hajime

Synopsis: First is love; in the forms over the years you come to know. Then second is grief and loss; and how the struggle that comes with it defines and reshapes you. And finally third is acceptance, where you realize that the awakening to love and life’s questions have always just been in the palm of your hand.

This story is for those who shielded themselves from love before it could even hit them.

Characters/Pairings: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader x Iwaizumi Hajime | Seijoh 3rd years (friendship)

Genre/Tags/Warnings: Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, Seijoh4!Friendship, Cellist!Sakusa, Musician!Reader, Hajime lmao, Mutual Pining, Love Triangle, Happy Ending!!, Character death, mentions of spiraling

WC: 17.5k

a/n: a month long wip! this one is all for you, mom. i broke my heart writing down these memories, but i hope you read this on the other side. + big thank you to @introvertedfangirlpower for the cello facts! really helped me :)

playlist: Message to Myself - Roo Panes

ko-fi | commissions

For you, love began in the unknown.

You say unknown because you don’t remember much of your childhood other than the flashes of residual warmth that came with the memory of your mother. For as long as you can remember, she always felt like that: warm and familiar—like home.

Her presence like the warmth that stays on your coffee mug long after you’ve consumed your drink. Warmth like sitting in front of a fireplace as you watch the last bits of firewood extinguish in the flames.

And your fondest memory perhaps—warm like the hands that cup your face and kiss your forehead every morning before you left for school.

The early years in your life meant days spent in planted gardens outside of a kitchen window where the pink and yellow flowers bloom in the spring, and jumping in the fallen leaves raked in a pile centered in the backyard in the late autumn.

Then in the winters, when it became too cold to lay in blankets in the backyard stargazing for constellations—you’d spend the Christmas nights listening to bedtime stories about her time traveling the world you have yet to explore. “You’ll fall in love with seeing what’s out there,” you recall her saying as she tucks you in bed with the green blanket she knitted for you when you were a baby.

Though you suppose even if you loved the winter months with her the best—you could never go wrong with sipping the iced tea she’d leave for you on the porch in the afternoons you spent outside in the summers. The iced tea she made was always the best: never too sweet, and never too bland either.

And for the most part of your childhood, your father was absent. You didn’t really care; his absent never lingered. So even when the bratty kid from the classroom next to yours would brag about the brand new jacket her papa bought her from a trip overseas—you didn’t care. The jacket you wore was still the same one from last year, and the scarf wrapped around you was the one she knitted two winters ago, but the way she wrapped you up and kissed your nose made the taunting escape your mind.

Your mother would tell you stories about the times when you were a baby and of how she’d tuck you in nice and snug in your blanket whenever she felt the room was too cold and then fan you out when the temperature rose. Apparently, when you were a baby you never cried too much so she was left to guess whether you felt comfortable enough with the room’s temperature or not. She always finished the story by saying you smiled at her either way so she supposes she guessed right every time.

You don’t question it because she guesses right every time.

During father daughter dances that were annually held in your school, your mother always made sure to take the day off of work early so the two of you would have dinner some place nice instead. Her jokes were better than the ones your dad halfheartedly chucked your way when he did come to visit anyway, so you didn’t mind.

Your father ringing you up three hours before the dance with the last minute classic excuse of “sudden meeting today, I’m sorry.” didn’t bother you as much as you think it should have when your mom was right next to you ready to tell you another story from her younger days.

Her “younger days” as she liked to call it was always a favorite topic of hers that she always returned to from time to time. At eight years old, it felt like there was so much of the world still to explore and despite her telling you to live your childhood to the fullest, you didn’t ask what it meant and requested to hear an encore of the story she just finished telling.

She’d smile and you’d hear her tell you that no, and that you should have listened, but you know during the “father daughter” dinners shared between the two of you, she was extra soft and that it would take nothing more than pleading eyes and one more “please” before she’d relent and tell the story again.

She was always enough; every second with her felt just right—and if there’s something you never regret during your childhood, it’s those times where you’d ignore the teasing of having “no dad to dance with” from your childhood bullies because you were more than content with the superwoman who raised you anyway.

If there was someone in your childhood other than your mom who never hesitated to hold your hands—it was the boy who lived right down the street: Iwaizumi Hajime.

“He looks a little scruffy,” your mom used to tell you and you’d shrug at her words because to ten year old you, she did have a point. Boys were icky.

His family didn’t move in your street until you turned ten years old, but according to the Oikawa family who lived next door—the Iwaizumi family had already been one of their long term friends. Tooru, the pretty boy who was your next door neighbor and often brought you the Christmas cookies you’ve come to love every December didn’t hesitate to knock on your door and ask your mom for permission to bring you out and play.

Tooru was okay, you thought; he had nice hair and a pretty smile even though he wore alien t-shirts every chance he could get. But, he was always kind enough to remember that you preferred almonds in your cookies instead of the cashews the recipe called for. So when your mother looked at you for your answer, you nodded shyly before running to your room to grab the jacket and scarf she reminded you to wear. The chill from autumn’s air has been settling in the region lately, so you let her wrap the scarf around you tightly before you left.

She did the same for both Tooru and his mystery friend, and you could only nod proudly when Tooru introduced his friend to your mother with, “This is (l/n)-san, she’s the nicest auntie here!”

You don’t notice the boy who walks quietly beside Tooru until the three of you reach the park. When you do finally notice him, you subconsciously find yourself moving a little closer to Tooru, your puffy cheeks hidden in the layers your scarf buried you in.

“Oh!” Tooru suddenly exclaims like he just had an epiphany.

“(Y/n),” he says as he turns to you and grabs the sleeve of your jacket, “—this is Iwa-chan. My bestest friend!”

Iwa-chan, the boy introduced to you peeks at you from Tooru’s left side and puffs his cheeks, “My name is Iwaizumi Hajime, nice to meet you.”

“Hello, I’m (y/n),” you reply and tentatively hold your hand out as an offer for him to shake, “nice to meet you Iwaizumi-san.”

His cheeks turn red at your words and you fight the urge to laugh at how silly it looks with his pout when he says, “You can call me Hajime. Nice to meet you too.”

Beside you, Tooru must have thought that his friend was taking too long to respond because he sighs loudly and grabs Hajime’s hand and clasps it on yours. “Iwa-chan, you’re supposed to shake her hand! Not stare.”

The red tinting his cheeks turn into a couple shades darker as he shakes your hand and turns his head to the side after muttering something along the lines of, “Baka-kawa.”

You smile at him when he faces you, and then smile even wider when the blush on his cheeks turn even redder. Maybe it’s just the cold air, you think, but none the less it suited him.

His hair was a little scruffy and he liked to wear Godzilla t-shirts under his jackets, but his cheeks blushed a pretty shade of red when you smiled at him so when your mom asks how your day with Tooru and the new neighbor went, you smile at her and say, “Mama I made a new friend!”

Hajime seemed nice, you suppose.

And you’re right because Hajime was always kind; he smiled in a way that had you smiling along with him in mere seconds. Though he was a little rougher with Tooru, Hajime always made it his mission to make sure he held your hand—if you needed it—when you needed to jump down a big step; the ever present blush on his cheeks when you’d beam at him stayed regardless of whatever season so you suppose you can’t blame it on the cold air anymore.

During your summer breaks, the three of you would spend the afternoons in your mother’s backyard sipping iced tea and catching cicadas. Tooru, along with you, would whine about how gross bugs were but you’d sooner relent than him when a pout began to form on Hajime’s face.

“You don’t have to,” Hajime says and takes a seat next to you on the swing next to the rosebushes. Tooru, from a far would yell triumphantly before tossing the volleyball he’d brought with him from home again. You, on the other hand could never have it in you to see Hajime upset so you’d pick up one of the three nets he’d brought with him and nod towards the garden.

“It’s okay!” you say and offer him a sweet smile when he’d look up, “as long as you keep the worms away from me then it’s okay!”

“I’ll keep them away,” he replies suddenly looking excited. Hajime jumps from the swings to grab another net and tugs at your hand to run towards the garden; he chooses to ignore the look on Tooru’s face when the latter shoots him a knowing smirk.

Bugs were never your thing and there was also never a day where you thought you’d be out in the garden running hand in hand with a boy trying to catch cicadas on a summer afternoon—when you’d much prefer to be sitting in a picnic blanket with the family dog who always nudged your hand for belly rubs. But then again, when you see Hajime, the kind boy with the infectious smile who always held your hand when you crossed the street or jumped from big steps, beam at you with his laughs ringing in the air—you conclude that it can’t be so bad after all.

When the sun would set and the three of you would let go of all the cicadas you caught, your mom would sit the three of you down for dinner and talk about your days.

“Ah, youth,” your mother would comment and you’d nod along, smiling because if this is what she meant by the beauty of youth—then you don’t ever want to let this go. If youth meant summer afternoons spent catching cicadas, festivals in the autumn, hot cocoas in winter, and picnics in the spring with Hajime and Tooru then you decided you really don’t want to let it go.

You think that especially when you look at the table across you as you smile at Tooru shoveling his dinner down and smiling at your mom because she was the bestest cook ever and laugh when Hajime’s always the one offering to pass the salt or the dish your mother asked for.

“Haji is really smart, mama,” you say looking up at the woman seated next to you and Tooru would whole heartedly agree then mutter something about “Iwa-chan” being really good at arm wrestling. Hajime would flush with the familiar shade of red you’ve grown accustomed to at Tooru’s comment but tell your mother a polite thank you when she’d clap her hands together and agree with Tooru’s compliment.

That night when your mother tucked you in for the night and moved to turn off the lights in the bedroom, she tells you that Hajime and Tooru are nice boys and that she’s glad you befriended the both of them.

You tell her goodnight and smile into your covers, feeling warm at the thought of your mother’s words, Tooru’s laughter, and Hajime’s kind smile.

High school was a strange time for the three of you.

Strange, in the sense that even though the three of you maintained the closeness of the friendship you’ve shared since childhood—certain things factored in the evident shift in some relationships.

Tooru was one example.

You would give up an arm for him in a heartbeat if it meant it would save his life, but at the same time, there are some moments where you wouldn’t hesitate to rip off his arm just to get him to shut up.

He’s always been perceptive, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he came to your house one day, plopped himself on the beanbag he claimed to be “his spot” at the corner of your desk, look you dead in the eye, and declare, “You have the hots for Iwa-chan don’t you?”

Internally, you wince at the statement but outwardly maintain the air of nonchalance you’ve mastered over the years. Tapping your pen on Tooru’s forehead, you click your tongue, “If you don’t finish your essay by today, I’m not gonna edit it for you.”

“You’re changing the topic, (y/n),” Tooru quips and if the conversation was about something different, you’d smile at the sing-song tone he was using.

“Changing what?” You ask.

“(Y/n),” Tooru replies, dragging out the last syllable of your name, “—you’re so obvious, even Makki and Mattsun could tell.”

“Could tell what?” comes Hajime’s voice from the doorway.

You let out a sigh because in a way you’re thankful for Hajime’s impeccable timing in entering your room. You turn your head and glance at him from your desk, offering him a lazy wave as a greeting.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru exclaims and scrambles on the beanbag to sit up properly. “How much have you heard?”

“Were you talking about something important?” Hajime asks with a flat tone as he sits on your bed and pulls out his laptop.

“Your mom asked me and Oikawa to stay for dinner tonight, by the way. That cool with you?” he asks.

You look at him, the expression on your face quizzical, “Haji, you guys always stay for dinner. Mama and I love having you two around.”

From your peripheral vision, you could see Tooru look between you and Hajime back and forth and for once you’re glad he chose to stay silent.

But then when a familiar tinge of red falls on Hajime’s cheeks and you smile fondly at him, Tooru suddenly hollers, “(Y/n), that’s what I mean. You totally have the hots for Iwa-chan!”

Hajime’s eyes widen as you slap a hand over your face.

Today was one of the days where you decide you want to rip Tooru’s arm off.

Dinner later that night was, to put it bluntly, awkward.

You figured your mom must have already read the atmosphere by now but as of the moment all you could really do was shoot glares towards Tooru from across the table. Usually, the seating arrangement would be like this: you sat next to your mom, Tooru right across you, and Hajime diagonal from you.

Tonight, Tooru decided that it was time to “switch things up” and traded seats with Hajime.

“Ahh, this feels nice,” he says as he sits in the chair inches away from the chair where he sat for years.

“Boys,” your mother begins, “I heard you both got into the volleyball team.”

Tooru beams at her through a mouthful of pasta. “Yeth!” he chimes and Hajime elbows him on the side reminding him to eat properly before responding. You, along with your mother give a soft laugh at their interaction.

“How are you three liking high school so far? I expect the two of you to get rid of any boys who have bad intentions towards (y/n),” your mother says as she sips on her wine. Internally, you groan, because this was a conversation you would much prefer to not have. Especially in front of Tooru, you decide when he grins with an undertone of something you could only guess was anything but good. You shoot him a warning look; Tooru decides it’s a good day to ignore you.

Over the years, you made your appreciation known towards Hajime’s amazing timing. It was like he had a sixth sense when it came to either you, Tooru, or the both of you simultaneously. He had always managed to round the corner right as the passing university boys would spot you alone by the convenience store, catch Tooru before he did anything too drastic whenever he blamed himself a little too harshly for a loss from a particularly bad game, or like earlier that night—walk into a room interrupting a conversation you would rather avoid altogether.

This current situation was not one of those times.

Hajime took a bite. Your eyes were still locked on Tooru who did everything but look in your direction.

“I don’t think that’s a problem, (L/n)-san,” he said and leaned forward. Your mother next to you raised an eyebrow in question and muttered an, “oh?”

Hajime took another bite, still oblivious to the current conversation. You still looked at Tooru who smiled at you in a way that had you gripping the fork in your hand a little tighter.

“No scary boys around (y/n), at all! Isn’t that right, Iwa-chan?” Tooru exclaims and looks at his best friend next to him who was still engrossed in his plate of food. You hold your breath looking at Hajime as you wait for his response.

“Huh? Yeah. Anyway, this new recipe is really good (l/n)-san,” he finally says and nods towards your mother. Tooru clasps his hands together, smiling.

“Personally,” Tooru begins, “I think Iwa-chan and (y/n) would be the most perfect couple!”

You run your hands over your face, already feeling the heat crawling up your neck. Feeling your mother’s stare you let out a sigh and face her. “Mom-“

“Hajime! That’s great! I was wondering when the two of you would get together, it’s literally been years.”

You stare at her. Hajime stares at her; pasta sauce is smeared on the corner of his lips.

“I know, imagine being the third wheel this whole time!” Tooru comments.

“Hajime’s a nice boy,” your mother tells you as you join her in the living room after Tooru and Hajime returned home.

“We’re not, a thing, mom,” you say despite her laughing at your tone.

“I didn’t say you two were a thing.”

You open your mouth, but eventually close it when you come short of a response. She had a point.

“Mom,” you groan, “Haji is nice. Tooru is nice. Both of them are nice.”

“I know that, (y/n), you’re just being defensive now,” she laughs and you can’t find a retort so you huff in response.

When the room is dips into silence, you grab the familiar green blanket folded on the corner of the couch and take a seat next to her. She looks at you when you lean against her shoulder and drape the blanket over the two of you.

“(Y/n),” your mother says softly.

“Yeah?” you respond, looking up to catch her gaze—the kind where it’s steady and soft.

“Never lose yourself if you decide to give your heart to someone. I raised you well enough and no boy should ever make you feel like you’re taking two steps back,” you know she doesn’t say it to spite Hajime, but the message and advice in her words reach you anyway.

“Never in a million years.”

You know your mother means well because everything she’s done so far was because it was for your sake. Her credit of being a good mom was well deserved: a full time nurse and a full time mother wasn’t an easy feat but she did it—and not a day goes by where you felt like you had to fight for her time.

And because of that, you knew in your heart that Hajime knew the both of you enough to understand the dynamic you had with her; for that, you were always thankful.

True to Tooru’s words, it only took the both of you six more months of back and forth bickering in your room before you eventually built up enough courage to stand in front of Hajime with your confession written neatly in jet black ink on paper tucked inside the pink envelope Tooru had demanded you to use.

He was quiet, and staring at you long enough for your cheeks to turn as pink as the envelope you were holding that it had you beginning to wrack your brain for excuses to turn and walk in the opposite direction. Only, when you looked up, cheeks flushed and the “Sorry I think I have to be home early to put my fish to sleep,” at the tip of your tongue—you stop because Hajime’s looking at anywhere but you and because his entire face is red.

You still have the envelope awkwardly stretched out towards him so when you move in attempt to retract it, his hands are suddenly clasped over your wrists and he’s looking at you, red face and all, saying, “W-wait—“

The both of you must have been quite the spectacle for the way you’re staring at each other, red faced, and waiting for the other to begin speaking because you could definitely make out Takahiro and Issei’s snorting from some feet away.

“—shit,” Hajime continues and the way he’s still staying silent and going back to avoiding your gaze has you tugging your wrists out of his hold and sheepishly telling him, “Sorry, this is a little awkward isn’t it?”

You’re standing in front of Hajime with your hands holding the letter behind your back and an awkward smile on your face.

“(Y/n), this is really weird—“ he begins and you’re shaking your head automatically at his attempt to soften the blow by waving your arms—and the letter—in front of him saying, “Haji! No! It’s okay you don’t have to say anything, this was a really bad idea—“

“No, I mean—“ he cuts you off then pauses as he’s sifting through the contents of his bag and pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope, the color a disturbingly identical to your own.

You look at Hajime. Hajime looks at you, at his envelope, then towards yours that paused with your hand midair. Issei and Takahiro’s laughter can be heard even louder from the background when Hajime runs his hands over his face and exclaims,

“Oikawa you son of a bitch.”

Two years and some months ago, Oikawa Tooru—the self-proclaimed “love guru” between you and Hajime had declared to have pulled off his “greatest plan.”

Apparently, the original plan called for only you to confess to Hajime via the classic love letter—but Issei and Takahiro had thought that the shits and giggles were worth to have both of you confess to each other at the same time instead.

Tooru always retells the story in the fashion where he leaves out Issei and Hiro’s names out of the credits. On the contrary, you and Hajime don’t have in in you to react much.

In the beginning, Hajime the friend held your hand through many of your highs and lows.

From age ten, he’d always make sure to hold your hand when you’re jumping from steps a little too far for your liking. At twelve, he’s holding your hand as he leads you away from the worms that found its way near the picnic blanket. At fifteen, when the two of you accidentally confessed to each other thanks to your friends’ schemes, he held your hand as he pulled you in the direction opposite of Tooru yelling, “Iwa-chan, don’t forget I’m the best wingman!”

Hajime, the boyfriend, had continued to hold your hand as well as share a multitude of your first throughout the years.

Your first date where he’d always let you walk on the correct side of the sidewalk, and make sure to squeeze your hand whenever the two of you would pass by a group of boys who let their stare linger. Your first kiss—a quick peck after a game where he’d rushed to you, lifting you up and planting a kiss on your lips before either of you could even process what was happening.

A reassuring hand on your back in the train ride during rush hour, kisses on your knuckles when he thought no one was around in quiet libraries, and your favorite: the feel of his thumbs tracing idle circles on the back of your hand when you’re watching him review the game you recorded earlier.

You were each other’s first “I love you,” when you’re seventeen, which was said in the hours between the day and night on your walk home down a quiet street you’ve skipped, ran, and biked across countless of times. You heard it break the silence before you said it with your own lips, because the way Hajime said it was like he was just talking about the weather that day.

When the two of you stop in front of your house and Hajime’s facing you, he’s smiling in the way that has you blushing instead of him this time and he’s looping your scarf even snugger around your neck after muttering some comment about how cold it was that day.

“Haji, did you just tell me you love me?” you ask him when he’s zipped up your jacket and you’re peeking at him under the various layers of the scarf he secured around you.

“Yeah, of course, I love you.”

“This is the first time you’re telling me that,” you say with an almost bashful expression and your eyes are cast down so you don’t end up seeing Hajime’s eyes widen at the realization dawning on him.

“(Y/n), shit—“

“I love you too, Haji,” you cut him off and even if the expression in his face is still a little apologetic at the lack of climax of your first exchange of I love yous, he’s holding your hands and pulling you flush against him in an embrace, his proclamation of more “I love yous” fluttering against your ear in warm breaths.

You think about it sometime later when you’re clearing up the plates on the table from dinner and you ask your mom, “how do you know when it’s right to tell someone I love you?” and she looks at you with an expression that says she knows exactly what you’re talking about but humors your attempt at nonchalance as she replies with, “It just slips out as if you’re talking about the weather.”

And the way she says it has the second thoughts just automatically leaving your head. You tell her “I love you,” in the mornings before she leaves for work and you don’t really think about it—not because it’s a passing comment, but because you just simply love her.

The feeling’s there because what you feel in the moment is as genuine as it can get, so when you think about Hajime from seven years ago who blushed red when you shook his hand and the Hajime seven hours ago who told you he loved you like he was talking about the weather—everything dawns on you in the way that feels right. No second thoughts, deep analysis, or euphoric moment.

>> to hajibug:

>> 23:50: i love you

In college you decided to pursue music as a career choice. Music was one of the many things you and your mother had bonded over but watching you play in first chair always gave you the best view of her beaming from the audience.

Whenever somebody asked you why you decided to pursue a career in the field as vague and competitive as music—for a long time you fumbled with your words as you struggled to piece together a coherent enough sentence that would make it seem like you were chasing something for a “deeper” reason. Though, the truth is—you just happen to enjoy it.

The way the shoulder rest snapped perfectly in place with the violin, the weight of the bow in your hand, the smell of rosin during practice, the tuning before the concert started before hearing the eventual mess mold together into one harmony—you loved every second of it.

On the final concert of your first year in college, a week before Hajime’s move to California you stood in the orchestra room reading a text from your mother saying that she couldn’t make it this time because of a doctor’s appointment running later than usual.

You still sat in the first chair of the first violins section and even though you would have loved nothing more than to see her smile at you from the crowd—it was in the coda of the final song where your eye finally catches Hajime watching you from her seat. When the violins put their instruments down in the measures of rests, you glance over to look at Hajime while your toe continued to tap the counts remaining until you’d play again.

You bite back a smile because he looked a little uncomfortable from the high collar of the suit he put on. Tooru’s probably the mastermind, your thoughts chime in as you smile and tuck the violin back in between your chin and shoulder, your rosin covered bow hovering over the E string.

And when the final count of the rests came and went, you could only smile as you see Hajime physically hold his breath as the violins amplified the crescendo of the climax.

It was later that night when you finally made it home that you realize that perhaps your favorite part of the song was when you felt the emphasis of the dynamics in the pieces you played.

The moment of absolute silence as the conductor draws everyone’s attention to the tip of the baton.

“(Y/n),” your mother starts and your eyes lock on the slight tremble in her hands.

The seemingly collective sharp breath everyone takes when the tip of the baton begins to signal the final counts until the start. Your fingers pressed on the first note as your bow hovers over the string.

“What’s wrong?” you ask but you let your fingers only ghost on her hands when she holds her silence, refusing to meet your eyes.

Sometimes it begins with a quiet note—and you smile at those because it sounds like a whisper despite it ringing in the auditorium.

“I’m sick,” she says and what she says doesn’t register in your head.

Other times, the first note comes in forte and leaves everyone in a resonating silence while the following notes interlace and begin to tell the story.

“I have cancer, (y/n),” she tells you again, louder this time and her sobs echo so loud in the silence of the house that it suddenly makes you want to throw your hands over your ears.

The conductor is waving the baton; you’re closing your eyes as you mold yourself with the music and focus on nothing but your fingers flying across the fingerboard and making sure the timing of your bow matches the tap of the rhythm set.

“Mom, you’ll be fine right?” comes your assurance in question and she’s not answering because she’s crying harder.

First position to third, then fourth, then something else you don’t quite remember as the pressure from your bow presses harder and harder on the strings to climb with the crescendo the orchestra is rising to.

She looks at you, glassy eyes and trembling lips, then holds your face in between warm hands as she presses her forehead against yours.

Then as the baton drops and the crescendo overflows—the air around the room instantly changes. The shoulders relax and the movement of the bow shift from staccato to legato as the music continues to flow.

“I’m scared to leave you alone,” she finally admits and you finally break down and cry with her because you realize you have no one but each other.

You cry because she’s crying at the thought of leaving you alone when she never cried at all the times your father chose another family over her.

And as the music decrescendos into the whispers of pianissimo, you close your eyes as the gentle sway eventually lulls to a stop.

It’s half past ten and you’re still in your formal wear, but your mom’s fast asleep on the couch. The air from the AC brings you to a light shiver so you shuffle closer and pull the blankets tighter around her frame.

The last note drops and resonates in an almost infinite echo. Your eyes snap back open you feel yourself exhale.

For a moment the auditorium is in silence.

You sit on the floor next to her and listen to the sounds of steady breathing. You could pretend it was just another movie night where she fell asleep on the couch, but the telltale tracks of tears are on her cheeks and you hear her sniffling from time to time so you sigh instead.

Then, the audience erupts in an applause.

In your room, you put your palm over your mouth and begin to cry again.

“I love you so much,” is what Hajime said two years down the road when he decided to move to California to finish his studies.

First, he’d made a stop at your home and sat with your mother over breakfast as she wished him well on his new adventure. By the time he was at the door, it was the first time you saw Hajime cry for and with her when she wraps him in a scarf she knitted just for him. You watch softly, as he wraps her in a hug and parts with a promise to always take care of you despite the distance and wishes for her healing.

You’re standing at the border of the gate only Hajime can cross where he’s wrapped you in a hug with his chin resting on your head.

“I love you so much,” he says and you nod your head against his chest. He’s saying it as naturally as he always has and your reply is as immediate and natural when you say, “I love you too, Haji. So much.”

“(Y/n),” he starts when he pulls away from you and looks you in the eye; he’s suddenly serious and you’re afraid.

“If you ever feel like you don’t want to keep doing this, then we can take a break.”

Your brows pinch together as you reply, “Why would I want to break up with you?”

“I’m not saying we will, I just don’t want you to shoulder too much because I know how much you’re hurting right now,” Hajime explains, and his eyes are as genuine as the tone of his voice.

“Haji—“

“I believe in you, though, just—“ he pauses and his eyes soften before he continues, “take things one day at a time and remember that I’m here loving you every day, okay?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he finishes and you only nod at his words because the fact that you’re going to miss him really begins to hit you. Hajime’s looking at you in the tender way where you know he knows you’re about to cry because he pulls you in another embrace before kissing the top of your head as he murmurs his parting I love you in the quiet tone only you can hear.

When Hajime crosses the gate and turns the corner, you can’t help but bite your lip to keep from crying. Only a couple more years. You could take it.

It’s in the next eight months where you realize that while Iwaizumi Hajime shared your first love—he was also your first heartbreak.

They always said that long distance was difficult and the fact that you and Hajime were even trying was commendable enough. But that was the problem—commendable sounded like you were in the relationship for the sake of a prize. Like you were suffering through the now for a prize. Like the good part was only a one-time thing reserved at the end.

It felt wrong, and looking back at it now—perhaps that’s where the downfall began.

As time passed, your mom’s illness worsened. Cancer was ugly and it let itself be known in as many ways as it could. Time and time again, you’d watch her hair fall in strands, then clumps, until she eventually decided to shave it off for good. She smiled at you and you don’t hear her tell you, “It’s okay,” over the buzz of the razor. You don’t think you have the heart to listen to the quiver of her voice that you know is present with her words, so you suppose the loud buzz worked out in the end.

What broke your heart the most was seeing her excitement when her hair grew back after a pause in her treatment—only for her to sit down and tell you that she’s “okay” when you’re shaving off sections of her hair again.

You didn’t let her see you cry because you wanted to be as strong as she was in this; because you knew the both of you broke down within enclosed walls away from each other. Though every time you were face to face—the front was always back up. And the front was flawless; like the edges of a chipped sword finally smoothened back into a blade. But at the same time, flawed; because like the sword—the sharpness always kills.

It was unconventional, but it worked. The momentary sigh of relief was still moments of relief at the end of the day.

Hajime, on the other hand thought differently though. The second you’d answer his call request on particularly off days, he’d tell you to cry. And you would; fat drops of tears rolling down almost as soon as he finished his sentence.

Then only a year of loving each other through a computer screen passed before you realized he became your pillar at the same time you began hardening.

“Never lose yourself in the pursuit of someone or something,” are the words from your mother you consciously make an effort to tell yourself everyday even as you sit in with your phone in hand waiting for the call Hajime promised you early this morning.

And you’re well aware you’ve developed an unhealthy habit as you’re lying in bed, fighting sleep with the time on the clock nearing 4am still waiting for Hajime’s call. It wasn’t the first time he missed a promised phone call—and you weren’t mad because you understand that he has as much of a schedule as you do and that time difference was a wedge the two of you needed to work with.

But still, you think, then sigh when you put your arm over your eyes as the clock clicks to 04:07AM beside you, this fucking sucks.

You know Hajime will text you an apology when it’s seven am for you and late at night for him, but you put your phone’s ringer on silent to convince yourself that you’re fine and you’re not dependent on his presence at all. That you’re handling yourself just fine and that the anxiety you have every time your mother comes back home from a checkup is something you can deal with by yourself.

You shut your eyes when the dull ache in your chest begins to grow sharper as your thoughts shift from school, to your mom’s illness, to Hajime, and to the fact that you want to cry at the heaviness of everything.

And the frustration is eating you alive because you hate feeling this helpless. Not when your mother taught you nothing but how to be strong your whole life. Not when all you should know is how to stand on your own two feet despite whatever the situation life throws at you.

So when the morning comes and you wake up to a plethora of Hajime’s missed calls and frantic texts asking if you’re okay—you text him an assurance that you’re fine and that he shouldn’t worry about it.

You face the day with everything you feel pushed to the back of your mind. You face the mirror and tell yourself that you’re fine.

Hanamaki’s a good friend, and a lot smarter than you give him credit for.

It didn’t fly past him when you left for phone on silent or chose to spend your break with him or Mattsun when you usually would utilize that time for Hajime. But at the same time, he noticed you spacing out in conversations a little more than usual, reject any plans they invited you in, and his least favorite—see you break down in the practice room when you thought no one was around.

Neither he nor Issei chose to tell Hajime or you about it; he could never understand what you were going through—but he understood that the way someone heals differs from person to person.

It took about a few more months of Hajime’s schedule piling up and your silent breakdowns for the both of you to finally snap and confront one another.

It started with Hajime telling you a round of an apology, “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll call you on time—I just,”

“—shit everything’s just crazy. I’m sorry, babe.”

Then you nod and absent mindedly twirl one strand of your hand as you force his apology in one ear and out the other. You were fine. You’re handling things well. You didn’t need Hajime as a support system, so you reply, “It’s fine. I got this.”

And you like to think it was going well, but he asks, “How’s your mom doing?” and your hands are suddenly gripping the edge of the table (where you know he can’t see) tight. You didn’t tell him that she cried from the results when she came home earlier and waved you off when you stood up to help her balance herself. That thirty minutes ago you could hear her yell at your father over the phone about something she didn’t tell you about and that at the moment, you’re thankful for the way your fingers were digging into your skin because it’s helping you re shift your focus into anything but what was going on.

Hajime’s not looking at you because he’s looking at the report he was typing on his laptop instead. So first, you hype yourself up by thinking about how you don’t need anyone to push you through things and that how you’re handling yourself and the situation was more than fine, then, you answer,

“She’s okay, too.”

You try to ignore how gritty it sounded; Hajime doesn’t seem to notice either.

You’re quiet after that and Hajime must have thought it was odd because he pauses his work to look at you and ask, “Are you okay?”

And he says it with such a gentle tone that you suddenly want to crumble and tell him about the heaviness that hasn’t left you since the day your mom began slipping. But a knock from Hajime’s door and a distant call of his name snaps you out of those thoughts. Hajime, on the other hand, ignores them and asks you the question again, which you wave off this time with a quick, “It’s okay you can call me when you’re done.”

He’s hesitant when he leaves and he shoots you a text seconds after his face leaves the screen but you don’t reply; you spend the rest of the night with your face pressed against the pillow while you will yourself to believe that you, alone, have everything under control.

And, really, you should have left it to end like that.

But you don’t; because when morning comes and you wake up feeling heavy, you’re left in a haze where everything feels muddled. And the feeling of screaming hits you so fast and so hard that the dam just breaks.

It’s seven am and you’re crying for reasons you can’t find a starting point to. The kind of cry where every heave hurts and makes you ball your fists because of an unsourced anger. It’s disorienting and frustrating because you’re not mad at specifically anything—but at the same time, everything feels like its swallowing you whole again. You wish you could blank out like the time she told you she was sick—even if it meant moving through your day hyper aware of your movements. But you can’t, because it’s one of those days where the heaviness just sits on your chest and forces you to face the fact that it hurts.

And you always say “it” because you don’t know where to begin. Because you never began; never sat down and looked at your reflection in the eye and asked yourself, “what was wrong?”

Because you’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

It’s still fine because when your phone is ringing, you answer with a fresh face and a smooth, hello.

Hajime greets you like usual, but then settles into a background that isn’t.

You don’t really care.

He asks you how you’ve slept, and you nod once as a reply. He’s chuckling and says something about you looking cute cuddled up in bed, still half asleep so you nod again to go along with his story. Underneath the sheets, you’re fisting the blankets as you count each breath you’ve inhaled and exhaled as Hajime begins to talk about his day.

Then someone, who you can’t recall you know, sits next to him with an arm casually draped over his shoulder and pushes her face near his as she waves a hello. Usually, you’re not much of the jealous type so something like that shouldn’t even be a red flag for you. Hajime was a friendly person all around, and time and time again he’s explained how different the American culture was from home.

Given that fact, on a normal situation it would have been fine. Understandable, even.

But before you could even begin smooth your thoughts back to rationality, you explode. Hajime’s facing away from you in a conversation where he can’t see, so you suppose that could have been a good thing.

Then, your anger comes out.

First, it trickles; you stay silent and opt to stare at him, seething when he finally begins a conversation. Hajime’s eyebrows shoot up just like that and he bids his friend a quick goodbye before rushing into an empty room.

Second, it pools. You tell him a series of things you don’t even think makes sense, but from the way his face morphs into a grimace—it wouldn’t take much to conclude that what you said was something ugly.

Third, you’re wading in waist deep. You’re sitting up and pointing at him, bringing up a photo you saw of him with his arms hung over someone’s shoulder. A classmate, you concluded last week; a lover, you accuse him of having in the moment.

Fourth, Hajime rushes to keep you from going in further. He doesn’t feed into your anger and instead tells you to take a deep breath before talking to him. And for a second, you relent and listen. He explains that she’s a classmate from his biology class and that you’re just overreacting over something that shouldn’t even be an issue.

Fifth, comes the struggle. Your anger flares at his words and everything you’ve felt and pushed underwater suddenly bobs to the surface. Hajime wasn’t at fault, and you know that, but he’s huffing in a way that tells you he’s inches past exhausted and it does nothing to quell your outburst.

“Maybe what you should do is listen to yourself and calm the fuck down,” is what he tells you as you flinch at his tone.

“Well, I’m sorry, for just wanting to talk to you Hajime,” is what you say as retaliation. Hajime’s hand that instantly flies up to soothe his temple doesn’t fly past you.

“We are talking, (y/n). Why are you trying to make me apologize for something I didn’t even do?”

“Why can’t you understand my point? This is exhausting, Hajime.”

“I told you from the beginning. If you didn’t want to keep doing this then we stop,” he retorts, anger steadily rising.

“You’re making it sound like you’re the one wanting to stop this,” you bite back.

“I don’t. But it’s like every time we talk nowadays it’s like you’re being too much, this doesn’t seem like you anymore,” Hajime finishes.

And as the silence settles, everything clicks. You’ve been too dependent, and he feels the same way. He’s right, this isn’t you at all. You shouldn’t need to cling to him to for crumbs of healing; because you’re more than fine.

Have been more than fine, really; so you blank and reply, “You’re right, sorry about that.”

He looks at you, confused, before the silence envelops the two of you again. You allow it to stay this time.

“Maybe we should take a break, (y/n). Just some time to cool off; I feel like we’re just too overloaded right now.”

“We should,” you reply, expression unfazed as you cut the call.

The sixth, is where you allow the anger to stay instead of recede. Your mother asks you how you’re feeling and you’re quick to answer that you’re okay.

Hajime doesn’t text you until an hour later, wanting to talk. You set your phone to silent.

“What made you decide to not get back together with dad?” you ask her when she’s quiet in front of you. Your mother looks at you for a while before she pieces the red eyes and silent phone together, then tells you, “I loved myself more.”

You nod, conflicted. Her eyes were as red as yours and you heard her weeping his name just the night before and she knows you’re aware. Your phone vibrates on the table again and you miss the way her eyes flicker to the device momentarily before focusing them back at you.

Both of you know, but neither of you ask.

“Never lose yourself, right?” you say quietly and she gives you a solid nod as she pours you a cup of coffee.

You never really liked coffee; then again, you never really liked the reality either.

But you take the mug and gulp in the bitterness anyway.

Then finally, the seventh is where you succumb under its waves. Hajime calls you later that night and you answer, expression honed into an almost natural state of indifference. He looks a little worse than you, but you ignore that.

“Is this it?” he asks and you nod curtly once, your fingernails already digging into your palms under the table.

“Are we going to hate each other?” Hajime asks you again and you sigh.

“I don’t have it in me to ever hate you, Haji,” you answer, truthfully and he gives you a halfhearted smile.

“I love you,” he says like he’s just talking about the weather, and stays on the line for a few seconds more before he eventually takes your silence as a response.

“I love you, too,” is what almost comes out of your mouth like second nature, but you bite your tongue anyway.

He can’t hurt you first this way.

Sakusa Kiyoomi didn’t really root himself in your life until nine months after your break up with Hajime. Graduation came and went like the unfurling of a leaf, and before you knew it, you’re suddenly in the real world.

Before that, you only knew him as the first chair cellist who you always accidentally locked eyes with in every concert you managed to snag the first chair spot in the first violin’s section.

Bumping into him during morning practice first led to string quartets, then duets during concerts, shared practice rooms—until eventually, he asked you out on a date.

He inserted the question in the conversation so naturally, too. After putting away the music stands, then shoving (in contrast to him neatly arranging) the sheet music into your folder—you were halfway done with loosening your bow when he asked, “Do you wanna get dinner later?” out of the blue.

To others who may have listened in to the conversation, it sounded like a natural invitation between friends, and Kiyoomi must have realized that because he was quick to face you after zipping up the case of his cello, and add, “—I meant dinner with me.”

You were still holding your bow and staring at him stare at you, so he filled the silence with, “Like a date. I’m asking you out on a date, (y/n).”

The two of you never really initiated anything outside the relationship between music partners, and the occasional friendly outing—but it had always been with others. Looking at him, you admit Sakusa Kiyoomi was a man who mastered hygiene. Which was always a bonus in your book. But you think back to Hajime for a second, then click your tongue quietly because you realize you shouldn’t be thinking about him when someone else was asking you out.

But you sigh and still offer him a smile when you reply, “Sorry I gotta watch my mom tonight. She’s not feeling well.”

Kiyoomi nods, and his eyebrows shoot up like he remembered something. “I heard your mom was sick? I’m sorry if I’m prying.”

You nod sharply once before internally groaning then thinking about how to steer the conversation away from the oncoming “I’m sorrys”, “It must be so tough,” or any sympathetic comments of the like.

But Kiyoomi only nods in understanding, briefly turning back to loop his arms through the case, then looking back at you again saying, “Ah. Understandable. My grandmother had cancer and my mom made her this soup that helped with the aching; I can give you the recipe for it.”

Your eyes shoot up at his response and the rehearsed response of, “I have no choice but to be tough for her. It’s okay, though,” dies in your mouth so you close it again and only nod a yes.

Kiyoomi turns to open the door once you had your own violin set inside and stands by the opening of the door to let you out first. You smile; he was mostly reserved, but still a gentleman.

“(Y/n),” he begins when the two of you walk side by side in the quiet morning hallway. “I know you don’t want to hear the pity comments, but I just wanna put it out there that you’re doing well.”

Your steps halt with his when you reach the end of the hallway where the flooring splits into two different directions but you face him, the thrumming of your heart feeling making you a little more choked up than you expected and tell him an honest thank you.

He lifts his right hand as a goodbye while he shoves the other in his pocket after he settles his mask in place, then turns to walk on the opposite direction.

“Sakusa-san!” you call out and he stops a few meters in front of you to turn back in your direction again.

“Dinner!” you call out again, “this weekend!”

You know your cheeks are a little more red than you would have liked and you’re more than aware of how white your knuckles must be from grasping the straps of your case, but you ignore that and add anyway, “As a date.”

The mask covering the lower half of his face obscures the expression he has but you notice the miniscule crinkle on the corner of his eyes when he laughs and replies, “Can you say that a little louder? I can’t hear.”

You huff and action to turn around because the heat on your face was getting a little too uncomfortable, but you hear him say, “It’s a date!” so you nod awkwardly in confirmation before turning your back and walking the opposite way.

You can imagine the look he has on his face and just how much amusement he’s gotten from the interaction but before you walk too far you hear, “Just call me Kiyoomi,” from him behind you.

You smile and feel as if you’re flipping into the first page of a new chapter.

In contrast to the push and pull energy you felt with Hajime, after almost being in a relationship with Kiyoomi for a year, things felt easy.

Communication between the two of you didn’t feel like unraveling codes; plus, being in the same department also meant your schedules mostly linked up. Though, personally, your favorite part was that he was never too pushy with the things you wanted to deal with alone.

He knew not to pry when you walked in the practice hall with bags under your eyes holding a cup of coffee you swore to heaven and back you detested drinking; you always saw a parcel of your comfort snack with a note laid beside your violin case in the locker room, though.

And when he ate dinner at your house, he also kept his comments to himself and never let his eyes wander to the amount of pills you had to help your mother count out when the little alarm in your phone rang. Then again, you never needed to question his intentions when he showed up the next day with a thermos filled with the soup your mom said she enjoyed once as a passing comment.

He’s always been one to remember the smaller details.

Along with preferring to stay in his personal space, Kiyoomi wasn’t one to smile too bashfully, but you can’t help but notice that when she laid her hands on his as a thank you and asked him to take care of you—the smile that graced his face looked warm.

She said that Kiyoomi seemed like a nice boy, and you agreed instantly—because he is.

He never pushed past the boundary you kept around yourself despite entering into a new relationship. There was a mutual air of respect—and neither of you expressed the desire to breech it.

Being with Kiyoomi felt as natural and in order to the flow as it does when your hands move to automatically loosen your bow when it came to packing up, or beginning with the A string when the conductor motioned for you to begin tuning.

You liked to think you fit quite well together. Like the duet that an audience listens to and clap at as if they were the whole orchestra. Like the blend of the high and low notes written on a score that collides in perfect harmony.

And it feels like it too.

Every time you’re seated across each other on the stage and you’re staring straight at one another to climb with the crescendo then descend into silence—you know that your heart, along with his, are beating in the same rhythm, with the same frequency. You’ve always found that break from the real world when you picked up an instrument and you’re glad that Kiyoomi’s the one you’re entering into that dimension with.

The ten minutes on stage feels timeless. The rush from the music still resonates in an infinite echo—your fingers twitching, craving, to fly across the notes in an encore. You’re smiling because when you stare at him—he’s smiling too. Unabashed and sparkling where you have no doubt in your mind that even without the stage lights he’d gleam the same.

And even as the crowd’s still cheering as you stand hand in hand and bow next to each other, you don’t hear anything. When reality begins to trickle into your senses and the rush of intoxication wears off, you let your smile mellow into a soft curve. You face the front row and look at the seat that’s a little towards the left and try not to notice your mother’s absence. You know she was admitted to the hospital three weeks ago and she hasn’t been doing too well. Kiyoomi squeezes your hand and whispers a, “you did well,” which you nod at.

He’s still smiling even as you exit the stage and pack up your instruments so you decide not to tell him that the boy sitting in that specific seat reminded you of Hajime.

Hajime, on the other hand became the contact on your inbox that got pushed down further and further when the holidays passed. You meant it when you said that you could never hate him—because you know you never really could.

He still showed up on your Instagram feed posting photos about his weekend road trips to Malibu or the spontaneous trips to Vegas his new friends looped him into—and you were happy to see him glowing. More times than not, your finger would hover over the like or send button to the comment you always end up deleting and you know it shouldn’t be that way. But reality reminds you that it is.

Your reality reminds you that Iwaizumi Hajime is someone who was witness to your growth and decline and that he was someone you chose to leave in the past.

But at the same time, his passing hellos were never left unheard. Kiyoomi knew, and like always, respected that. You would think this is the part where he should be reacting a little more aggressively, but you knew him to be above petty actions. He was secure, and he let that security be known in the grip of his hand that remained steady against yours when either Hanamaki’s or Issei’s eyes would stare a bit too long. They too, let their hesitations be known when you first introduced Kiyoomi to the both of them.

Issei opened his mouth with what looked to be the beginnings of a retaliation, but Hanamaki cut him off swiftly with a resounding, “We’re happy for you,” that promptly ended the conversation at that.

Then again, it didn’t change the fact that it was after that night where Hajime’s texts to you eventually dwindled to the seasonal greetings.

You tell yourself you don’t mind.

Because you don’t.

Because you’re fine.

Your mother isn’t fine.

Even though she’s been hospitalized for the past four weeks now, the past week has been specifically the most difficult. In and out of consciousness where different tubes were stuck and different needles prodded at her skin every day. It killed you because the second you heard her cry from when she thought you were still asleep rang in your ears over and over again throughout the day that resulted in you missing rehearsals for that entire week.

Kiyoomi drops by after school along with Hanamaki and Issei to check up on the both of you, but eventually leave when visiting hours end.

Kiyoomi usually stays a while longer, though; sitting outside the hospital parking lot and talking over a cup of coffee became a temporary permanent for the both of you during those weeks.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, then scoots closer to you on the bench when you exhale a sigh and lean forward. When your elbows settle into a rest on your thighs, you turn to him, offering a smile. It looked more like a sad quirk of the lip but Kiyoomi must have appreciated it more than he let on because his posture relaxes with you as he exhales.

“It’s weird, Omi,” you begin. “I mean she’s been at the hospital for treatments and checkups before but this is weird.”

Beside you, he stays quiet, and despite the distant noise of traffic in the background your voice sounds a little more amplified than you would have liked. None the less, you continued, “I’ve always known she hasn’t been fine but the past week just happened so fast.”

Puffing out another breath, you watch as it leaves you in a cloud before bringing the rim of the coffee cup to your lips. You don’t take a sip. Coffee was never your favorite anyway.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks you and turns his body completely to face you.

You think about it, then sigh. You don’t; at least, not yet.

“It’s okay, she’s strong,” you tell him and raise your cup as you shoot him another smile.

“So are you,” he offers as a reply, then knocks his cup against yours softly, chuckling when your face grimaces at the taste.

“Why do you always order coffee when you hate it?” he asks as he watches you take another sip.

You laugh, then scoot closer to lean your head on his shoulder. “It’s just practical,” you answer. “It helps me stay up so even if I’d rather get the peach tea, I know that one will knock me out within an hour from all the sugar.”

Kiyoomi laughs at your reply before looping his arm through yours and threading your fingers together.

“You can loosen up time to time, you know,” he tells you and you smile a smile that strains both the muscles on your face and feeling in your chest.

“I wish I could,” you answer.

“Are you happy?” your mother asks you later that night.

The question catches you off guard and you take a seat on her bed next to her. You don’t look at each other and instead look at the wall that’s in front of you, so, tentatively, you reply, “Of course I am.”

And she’s quiet after that so you return her silence and continue to sit next to her.

The clock hanging above the door of her hospital room ticks slowly and for a while you’re comfortable. At this point you aren’t sure whether you wanted time to move faster or slower—because you knew the moments you spend with her are granted through borrowed time.

Time that’s borrowed from the prayers you kneel and voice out every night, the needles and tubes that poke and prod at her skin every day, and from the pills you help count out every time your alarm rings.

She began slipping the minute she told you she was sick—and along the years you knew she let herself slide along the current more carelessly every time she told you she was tired.

You’re looking at her when she touches your hand and you try not to flinch at how cold her skin’s gotten. She’s smiling when you face her and it makes you inhale in a way that hurts because the look on her face practically just tells you she’s tired.

But like the two of you had always done: you stay silent and mirror your smiles instead.

“I’m proud of you,” she says and your heart breaks as you will yourself to not cry. It occurs to you that she isn’t crying when she says it because her voice is resolute as it is soft. You want to ask her why she’s proud of you but you don’t because you realize when this becomes a memory you just want to leave it at that.

You want to leave it as a moment where a mother is telling a child that she’s proud of her.

So instead, you ask her, “Are you coming to see the concert with me and Kiyoomi in a few weeks?” just to make sure. That she’s still there; that she will still be there.

Her silence is your answer before she’s reaching out between the two of you and squeezing your hands instead.

On a Tuesday morning the next week she passes away at 3:08 PM with her eyes closed and face serene. The nurses tell you she opened her eyes to look at the world once more before she closed them and exhaled her last breath.

She was probably looking for you, they mean to say, but you bow your head in thanks when the medical staff offer their heartfelt condolence. You aren’t sure if you wanted to see her close her eyes for her last breath, but at the same time—you wonder if that thought was too selfish on your part.

When you’re in the car in the parking lot of the hospital grounds, you smell her perfume—lilac, so you close your eyes and tell her soul rest easy and I love you.

You text Kiyoomi to meet you in the practice room to go over the score once more after you gave yourself a few more moments to pull yourself together.

He texts you back with an, “are you sure?” so you sigh because he must have already realized what happened. Your fingers hover over the keypad of your phone as you think of an excuse to cancel plans last minute but Kiyoomi’s contact photo on your phone interrupts your thoughts in a call.

Despite your hesitation, your finger press the green to answer the call almost immediately.

“(Y/n?)”

“Hey,” you respond.

“Want me to come get you?” Kiyoomi asks and you notice how much softer his tone is.

“I can still drive, it’s okay—“

“—Are you okay?” he cuts you off and you nod your head frantically. It felt too automatic, and that thought didn’t fly by you, so you sigh.

Kiyoomi notices your silence over the line but he stays and for that you’re grateful. He isn’t really pushing you and you feel a sense of gratitude again because you don’t exactly know what to say either.

Before you could reassure him that you’re in a sense, “okay,” his voice breaks the silence over the line again.

“No one else is here, so I’ll wait for you if you’re coming.”

The smile that breaks on your face is one of relief, or at least you think it is, because your eyes are stinging and you hear yourself sniffle when you tell him a quiet okay, and thank you.

“I love you,” is what you think you hear Kiyoomi say as you cut the call and put the car in reverse.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi present here?” you call out with a slight chuckle as you push open the door and peek in the room.

His head snaps towards you immediately so you offer him a sheepish smile at best when you finally arrive in front of him. Kiyoomi’s eyes are softening in the way that has your heart constricting automatically so you cast your gaze down and immediately fidget with the zipper on your violin case. The steps he takes are heavy and audible in the wooden flooring so your heart hammers even more when you hear him cross the distance between the two of you.

“(Y/n),” he starts and you look up when his hands are on your shoulder. They feel warm, you think, much like the look you see in his eyes when he steadies his gaze towards you.

Kiyoomi joins you in your silence when you choose to remain in it and respond to him by only stitching on another smile. The palm of his hand is still warm on your shoulder but you try to focus on anything but the waves of his sympathy and presence because you know the second you step back in reality, you’ll break—again.

So when his hand squeezes your shoulder and he parts his lips to say the condolence you don’t know when you’re ever going to be ready for, you cut him off.

“Please don’t,” you tell him, and it’s said with a tone that’s clipped tight and with lips pulled into a straight smile—the kind where you can already feel the edges crack with every second that passes.

Kiyoomi sighs and stares at you, but backs down when he feels your body tense.

“I’m right here,” he reassures, as you cast your gaze to the side when you feel the sting in your eyes threaten to overpower you.

“I know,” you reply and with that he turns and takes his seat again.

The two of you are facing each other when you have your fingers on your respective positions and bow hovered over the string. The metronome in the background ticks and you close your eyes desperate to slip out and slip in to focus. The disconnection almost happens automatically because as soon as you hear yourself verbally count to start, your hand with the bow twitches and—

“(Y/n),” Kiyoomi cuts off and your movements automatically halt. The tone of his voice is solid and just like that you feel yourself begin to crumble; still, you try to harden, anyway.

“What’s up?” you say and open your eyes to look at him. The cello you thought was resting between his legs is set down next to his chair and his bow is on the music stand; he looks at you—intention transparent at this point.

“I love you,” he says. “Please talk to me—“he pleads, but you cut him off.

“Omi,” you begin. “I know what you want to tell me and I know you mean well, because you always do. But please—“you pause and look at him with as much intensity as you could muster before continuing, “—let me pretend like today is just a day where we’re practicing for the concert she could have finally gone to.”

Across you, his body leans forward before eventually halting at the sight of you tightening your grip on your bow.

“Just let me pretend this is a normal practice and I’ll be home later with someone still waiting inside the house,” you continue, volume rising but resolve shaking.

“Please,” you finish before tucking the violin back between your chin and shoulder and raising your bow to signal the start. Kiyoomi relents with a sigh and picks up his cello and bow before looking at you.

“Ready?” he asks when his bow is positioned above the string.

“Always am,” you reply and close your eyes as you slip back in focus and feel the bow glide into the first note.

The first note is an A, so you place your fourth finger on the D string and slip into your empty realm with a vibrato.

A memory flashes; you’re in the sixth grade again. It’s September, and you finally make it home with your new violin case in hand. Your mom comes home from work and smiles at you as you point at the strings and name them in the order your orchestra teacher had you memorize earlier.

“This one’s the A string,” you say and you see her smile like she’s proud of you.

The next note makes you climb to the third position, and you could recall that the dynamic changes around this measure, so along with Kiyoomi you’re pressing a little harder.

“We learned the third position today!” you hear your own voice say. It’s your second year playing and you’ve made it to the honors orchestra. Your mom sits in the living room, watching you with a twinkle in her eye that tells you she’s more than proud as you show her the arpeggio practice you learned earlier that day.

The next few notes fly across the fingerboard as the familiar crescendo builds. The depth of Kiyoomi’s strings blends with the octave you’re playing at as you feel yourself being swallowed and wading in your thoughts deeper and deeper until—

You stop.

Because with your eyes still closed, you suddenly see her from the night before. Your mother with the glimmering eyes and fragile hands, wearing the red beanie she said was her favorite ever since her hair fell out. And your eyes are still closed when you hear her tell you that she’s proud of you, her voice bringing you back to that night where you wanted to do nothing more but let your defenses down.

So involuntarily you do; your eyes are still closed when you begin to weep, but you can hear movement from the background before you eventually hear Kiyoomi call, “(Y/n),”

“I’m sorry,” you say and frantically wipe away at the tears and cough out the cries threatening to overflow and spill.

“(Y/n),” Kiyoomi says again and you look up.

His chair is turned so that he sits facing away from you. Your forehead scrunches with the peculiarity.

“Kiyo-“

“Just let it out,” he says then picks up his cello and continues playing from the measure you stopped at.

Then you do.

Like a thread snapping, a cry rips its way out of your throat as you finally, finally allow yourself to feel the heaviness that’s long settled in your chest. Your violin along with your bow set on the floor as you crouch down and press the heels of your palms against your eyes.

It hurts, you realize, when every time you close your eyes you still see her. You still hear her tell you her goodnight stories, affirmations, and reassurances.

It hurts, because you’re tired. Tired of living in the world trying to be the adult you know you aren’t just yet. You’re tired of going home and smiling with her when you could tell the reason why she has tear tracks on her cheeks was because of the call with your father you overheard from the night before.

Because you’re angry, you think. You’re angry at her illness. At your father for leaving and giving the weight of being a parent and provider at the same time. At the fact that neither of you were ever vulnerable enough to even cry in front of each other, and angry at yourself for never having the courage to tell her that it’s okay.

Because all this time you’re been struggling. Struggling to try to always be an adult when you never closed the chapter of your childhood. That you’ve always struggled to push past every affirmation that you’re okay and every single one of those moments were just bouts of false confidence. And it’s exhausting to put up a front to your own reflection.

Even when nothing has really been okay. You’re hurting even more when you realize that so you clutch your chest and cry harder.

This must be the consequence of pride, is the thought that comes to your head. You could build the strongest walls and wrap yourself in the most intricate barriers just to act tough but in time, you will break.

Like now; you’re sobbing into your palms for the years’ worth of pain you let pride push away while Kiyoomi is climbing even higher than the strongest dynamic you know the piece calls for.

You know he wants to let you know that it’s okay, and that you’re safe. His message resonates in pure clarity as he pushes on the strings harder and harder to swallow the sounds of your cries.

His back remains turned as you look at him, still crying, while your thanks bubbles out as incoherent as your cries.

It hurts, because you the only person you’ve cradled in your hands to heavens far higher than the ones you’ve known is gone.

You’re still crying and the pain in your chest is still stinging much like the pain from a reopened wound does, but you let him come to you as he lets you come to him in an embrace.

“Let it out,” he murmurs in your hair as you wrap your hands around his middle and cry into the fabric of his shirt. He’s probably a little uncomfortable at you sniffling right into his shirt, but the way his hands are rubbing circles on your back reassures you otherwise.

“You’re okay,” Kiyoomi says again and you cry harder because you want to believe him.

Five missed calls and seven texts messages all coming from Hajime lays unopened on your phone at 6:17PM.

“She asked me if I was happy,” is what you tell Kiyoomi as the two of you stand side by side peering over her casket some days later.

“Are you?” he asks and you smile at him in a way that tells him that at the moment you’re not.

“Will you be happy?” comes the question after that and you shrug.

The lines on her face are like always, and the mole between her brows look the same. Your mother lays still in the casket, cheeks pink from the blush they put on her and lips red. You think your mother’s friends told the funeral workers to paint them her usual color, so you’re thankful for that. She looks like she’s just asleep—and you don’t know how to feel.

You want to reach out and hold her hand but you know the skin will be stiff and cold; you don’t want to remember her touch like that.

To you, she’s still alive.

She always will be alive.

Kiyoomi’s hand grasps yours in a way that’s as gentle as his presence has always been. When you look up then right to meet his eyes: looking like warmth despite the depth that it has words rolling out of your lips before you could comprehend the situation.

“I will be.”

Kiyoomi smiles and you look back down without bothering to further explain your answer.

You know he always believes you. The sentiment is one you appreciate, but at the same time, you’re not sure if you even believe yourself at the moment. You have to be strong, you think.

And just like that your defenses climb back up.

Takahiro along with Issei make it to the funeral along with Tooru and Hajime skyping in from overseas. It wasn’t as awkward like you expected it to be, and you’re glad.

Tooru’s crying along with Hajime and the rest of you as you watch her return to the opened earth.

You’ve dried your tears by the time you face Tooru and Hajime on the laptop screen, the grief on their faces similar to the one on yours.

“(Y/n),” Hajime starts, and you nod, waiting for him to continue. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” you respond, gaze focused to the left side of the screen—Tooru’s side.

Even though all you could see was Tooru’s expression on the screen tearing up with yours, you ignore the telltale scrunch of Hajime’s forehead where you know confirms his disbelief over your words.

“I’m coming home next week. Got a job offer there,” Hajime’s voice cuts again and before you could respond Tooru’s voice thrums over the speaker as you feel Kiyoomi’s hand settle on your shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks you when you look up at him. Nodding your head, you shoot him a smile before turning back to the screen, one hand resting on top of Kiyoomi’s.

“This is Kiyoomi,” you introduce and feel yourself unintentionally holding in a breath as you sit and watch for Hajime’s reaction. He’s quiet; eyes steeled over and form rigid. Probably just a trick of the camera, you tell yourself, so you open your mouth hoping to find an excuse and end the call early but Tooru’s voice overlaps yours for the second time that day.

“Ahh! The boyfriend?” He asks and you smile as you see him leaning closer to his laptop’s camera. You had to hand it to him; you know that look. Tooru was someone who could craft a mask and uphold it for as long as he needs and every time it was flawless.

Which was why when Kiyoomi bows his head in a greeting and greets, “It’s nice to meet you,” in the tone he used with your mother, you know he hadn’t caught on to the fact that he was facing a façade.

“Likewise,” Hajime’s voice cuts through and you try to not shiver at the intensity of it.

“Let’s catch up when I get home?” he says again; this time, softer and you nod before you could think of a response.

“Take care,” is the last thing you hear from him before the camera on his side of the screen blinks back to black and Tooru’s face magnified and centered.

“He’s finally coming home, (y/n)-chan,” Tooru smiles and at the sincerity of his voice you smile along with him.

“He finally is.”

Hajime had always been, and always will be your first love. You found yourself choked up the second you see him wave at you from the arrival’s gate and you swore in that moment hugging him felt like coming home.

Which was because of nostalgia, you told yourself. There had been so many firsts and memories shared with him that you know just because you moved forward with your life—that didn’t mean you’d buried what you had with him in the past.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi?” he asks when you’ve settled in the grass next to your mother’s tombstone with him across you.

“Yeah, he actually played for Itachiyama back in high school,” you say.

“Volleyball player turned classical musician?” he asks and you nod with a resonating yup, your hand trailing down to the grass to pick on the blades aimlessly.

“He made it to nationals too,” you comment.

“Are you trying to just rub it in?” he asks and tosses some ripped grass your way. You move to the side and stick your tongue out at him which he laughs at. Hajime’s laugh reminds you of the summer afternoons in your childhood home where you’d chase cicadas and write memories in polaroids and you’re suddenly feeling nostalgic.

“Nah,” you say and smile as you look up at him. He’s facing his right and letting his eyes glaze over the gold paint of your mother’s name on the cement.

“I miss her,” Hajime whispers and you nod, your heart squeezing.

“I do too,” you reply and when he looks at you and meets your eyes, you catch yourself smiling because he has tears threatening to spill over the waterline too. “Every day,” you continue.

“You’re making me cry,” Hajime huffs and leans back facing the front after he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Your fault for still being soft,” you laugh. Unlike you, he’s always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” Hajime begins after the moments of recollection passes. You look at him and smile, not really sure whether you even have the desire to push through with the conversation or not. “Why are you even sorry?” is what you want to ask him, but you hear yourself say, “it’s okay, Haji,” instead.

“We could have made it,” he says again, his voice cracking as he looks at you.

“Could have,” you repeat and offer him a halfhearted smile at best.

“Do you regret us?” Hajime asks and he seems hesitant with his answer; like he doesn’t want to know your answer. You shake your head no as soon as you meet his eyes and reach your hands out in the space between you.

“Never,” you say and squeeze his hands when he takes yours into his own.

“You’re going to make me cry, again. Shit,” he laughs and this time, you laugh along with him.

The afternoon, despite the September air feels warm. Almost like the summer afternoons back home. So when you close your eyes, you let your defenses down as you imagine sitting in the garden: the one with the yellow and pink flowers, shouting promises in the air with Hajime and Tooru as the three of you let the wonder of childhood guide your idea of reality.

You decide that for just a while longer, you’ll keep those same defenses down as you feel Hajime pull you to stand up with him and face the open field behind the cross of her name.

“Wanna see if we can find cicadas?” he grins and you laugh, replying, “What are we, twelve?” as you follow him and break out into a run anyway.

It was in that afternoon that you realize, Hajime’s always felt like home. His presence always meant that your thoughts jumped back to the days where you watched his hair spike and grow like flowers from a garden blooming and wilting. To the days where talks of the future were shared over a dinner rolls and laughter. To the days where telling someone “I love you,” felt as natural as if you were just talking about the weather.

Hajime reminded you of losing yourself in the kind of love that felt unabashed and boundless. Like running on fields where the sun remained in the golden hour indefinitely. He was the first love you’ve cradled with a heart that was still a stranger to the ways of the reality.

“Are you happy?” he asks you when the sun above breathes the beginnings of a goodbye. You recognize the question your mother asked you before she passed and in that moment you close your eyes and envision yourself in a different year.

“I am,” you whisper back earnestly and your heart flutters with every corner of the wall that crumbles down as you stare back at him.

He looks at you like he wants to ask a question but the thought of Kiyoomi flashes in your mind. Your eyes scan the flecks of emerald in Hajime’s as you close your eyes and feel yourself retreat along with the setting sun. The warmth in your chest remains as you think of Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi who told you to let it out and let it go. Kiyoomi with the midnight eyes who spoke of the answers to the questions you have yet to discover.

“I have to be happy,” is what you tell Hajime again and the smile he gives you is soft. Like he wants to dive down your thoughts more but instead chooses to remain anchored outside your walls.

But you still lean into his embrace as he pats your shoulder when you tell your mother goodbye.

She must be happy, you think to yourself. Because today was an afternoon spent in the sun like she was alive again.

A text from Kiyoomi to you and one from Issei to his brings you back to the present. You wave goodbye to the photograph of her on the tombstone while Hajime leaves a yellow flower he picked under the sun by her name.

He smiles and you hear him say he’ll walk you home.

Your heart thrums; it’s almost like he never left.

Hajime won’t leave.

Despite your intention for him to not show up to your house being extremely blunt in your text message, he shows up thirty minutes after Kiyoomi’s parked into your driveway.

“Hajime,” he grins, introducing himself with a hand stretched out in greeting as Kiyoomi looks at it in contemplation. You watch the two of them, three feet away and anxious at their first time face to face interaction.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” your boyfriend says and reaches out to shake his hand. You could practically feel yourself sigh in relief.

“Haji, you didn’t have to come,” you say and shoot him a tight lipped smile. “Omi and I can handle the boxes, plus there’s not much left to pack up anyway.”

“So,” Hajime begins, turning around and blatantly ignoring what you just said. “Makki says there’s some heavier stuff in the attic? I can help you with that.”

Kiyoomi looks at you as you eventually sigh and nod at him to follow Hajime up into the attic.

For the rest of the day it went on like that. At every hint you dropped in regards to the lack of necessity for Hajime’s presence—he’s suddenly tuning out and changing the topic. It was like he couldn’t hear. You huff when Kiyoomi shoots you a look that hints his amusement towards your predicament.

Hajime’s time in California surely must have rubbed off on him.

“You two shared a lot of memories,” Kiyoomi comments after he sees Hajime point at a trinket and recall a story.

“We grew up together,” you reply and Hajime nods along with you, smiling.

“I knew she was gonna be a real one when she didn’t chicken out from catching cicadas with me,” Hajime laughs across you.

“You used to catch cicadas?” Kiyoomi questions, eyebrow quirking up. You had to fight the urge to smile at the way his two moles scrunched together.

“Used to,” you answer and grip the photo album in your hand before placing it into the box. It was one of your favorites, you remember. You spent your summer nights pasting stickers and writing captions into the photos your mom took of you, Hajime, Tooru and your dog. There were probably a few in there that were with her, but you decide you can put off the nostalgic trip for later as you shut the book and tuck it into a corner of the box.

“Sakusa,” Hajime initiates when the three of you stand back up, stretching then facing each other: Kiyoomi to your left and Hajime across the two of you. “Take care of her will you?”

“I plan to,” Kiyoomi replies beside you and you reach to squeeze his hand as you watch him offer Hajime a sincere smile.

“Can you give us a moment?” you ask Kiyoomi and he’s quick to nod.

“Thanks,” you say and lean into his kiss on your forehead before watching him grab the remaining box and make his way out the door.

Hajime stands in front of you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s a good guy,” he tells you and you smile gently, head nodding in agreement to his words.

“One of the best,” you reply, smiling.

“You’re happy right?” Hajime says more than asks, but before you could answer, he speaks again.

“I’m here for you, always,” he confesses quietly and you swallow thickly because you could already decipher the meaning behind his words.

“Who’s going to pull your scarf to remind you that it’s cold?” Hajime declares softly and you knit your eyebrows together as you tell him that you can do it yourself.

“I know you can,” he laughs and walks closer to you as he tugs off his own scarf and wraps it around your neck.

“I just like doing it for you.”

“Earlier,” Kiyoomi begins after he’s settled in the couch of your new apartment’s living room. You turn to face him, attention in focus then wait for him to continue.

“When we were upstairs Iwaizumi-san asked where you were moving.”

“Oh yeah? I forgot I didn’t tell him my new address, thanks for remi—“

“He asked again if we were going to be moving in together and I didn’t answer,” he swiftly cuts you off. You stare back at him, confused, then nod your head urging him to continue.

“I didn’t answer him at first because I wanted to see how he’d react.”

“Omi—“

“(Y/n),” he sighs. You blink back, confused.

“He still loves you.”

Kiyoomi says this like he’s just talking about the weather and because of that you’re suddenly aware of fast the room dipped into the newfound silence. Your heart hammers in your chest while you feel your hands curl into a familiar fist; fingernails automatically moving to dig into the flesh of your palms.

“Of course he does, I do too—“you reason, but his expression shifting has you revising your choice of words.

“I will always love him, Omi. Haji was my friend before he became anyone else,” you explain, softly, and reach out to take his hand in yours. He smiles at you and you mirror it, appreciating the way he didn’t pull out of your touch.

“Is that it?” he asks before you look at him, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“What else is there?” you laugh and shift your focus to his hand on yours.

“Are you really happy?”

“With this?” he questions again and sits up, taking both of your hands in his. Kiyoomi stares with baited breath, so when the silence buzzes in your ear even louder, you nod.

“With us?” Kiyoomi whispers and the echo it delivers rings loud. You hear his question ricochet from the walls to your ears over and over again while you stare straight into the plethora of questions he chooses not to vocalize manifesting themselves in his eyes.

Then, almost slowly, you nod. Because you are happy, though more so thankful. But that’s still happiness, the voice in your head reasons, so you relent and cup his face.

“You’re my blessing, Kiyoomi,” is the truth that’s spoken from your lips as you watch something living unfold in his.

“I love you,” is what he says and you nod, speechless, as he presses his forehead against yours because you feel everything in his words.

“Are you happy?” he asks again when you part and you smile, remembering your mother and Hajime’s words. The sentiment in his question is one of honesty, that in that moment, it suddenly fills you with newfound warmth.

“She asked me the same thing,” you answer, vulnerable. Kiyoomi always had a way that made it okay to feel vulnerable.

“Because I think she knows your answer,” he tells you quietly and what he says makes you think of his words.

“I’ll get there,” is what you planned to answer but before you could get the words out you’re suddenly widening your eyes as you see Kiyoomi shift and bend down on one knee in front of you, a ring in his hand.

Three years later | Italics in flashback

For the first time in your life everything felt connected.

From the pin that held your veil together, to the yellow and pink roses that bloomed along an aisle of white.

Everything felt like it was finally in place as Tooru took one look at you from behind the doors and teared up.

“Please don’t make me cry,” you tell him and smile as you loop your arm through his.

“This is payback for making me cry when you asked if I could give you away,” he laughed before dabbing at the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you, Tooru,” you whisper as he gives you one final look. The browns of his eyes reminded you that you are loved.

“Your mom would be so happy now,” is his reply as the doors open.

She would be happy, you think as you take one, two, then four steps forward as you grip your bouquet tighter. The pendant with her photo is surrounded in gold plating, and you find yourself thinking that nothing suited her better than gold.

To and for you, she had always been golden.

You feel Tooru part with you midway as he lets you walk the final stretch alone. It was supposed to be the other way around, Issei commented before, but Takahiro was quick to side with you and say it was fitting. Even if Tooru stood in your parent’s place to symbolize giving you away, a parent’s job is really just to walk with you to the halfway mark in life and let you walk the rest of the way alone.

You find yourself smiling at the memory.

The engagement ring on your left finger catches the light from the photographer’s flash as the first notes of a cello play.

“I would ask you to marry me but I know you’re going to tell me no,” Kiyoomi tells you.

“I don’t know you, yet, (y/n). But I know you just enough to know there’s some things you are choosing to not let go of.”

You watch him stare at you, eyes soft and understanding you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to cry again.

From the aisle, your eyes catch Kiyoomi’s as he stares back at you, beautiful and iridescent in the light. He’s always looked the most beautiful when he felt connected with music, you think. Much like now, as he presses harder on the strings and close his eyes to slip into the element.

“It’s okay,” Kiyoomi soothes, and reaches forward to wipe the tear sliding down your cheek.

“I don’t think I got to know you, just yet. I only saw bits of who you were under that exterior and neither of us know if we could work as well then if we lay ourselves bare now,” he continues and you nod, understanding his point.

“I love how resilient you are, (y/n),” Kiyoomi whispers and you smile because his voice isn’t cracking. He’s okay with this, and somehow, that lifts the heaviness in your chest. “I love how you never break despite the situation, but I’ve only known that side of you so far.”

“You deserve someone who’s seen you from the start. I can stay and we can work this out, but I don’t know if I’ll love you then. Iwaizumi loved you then and now, and I think you still do too. I could never take you away from that.”

“I don’t want to ask you who you are yet,” he says and you nod telling him you’re still getting to know yourself too.

“She’ll be proud of you regardless,” Kiyoomi finishes and with that you sob.

Kiyoomi opens his eyes and looks at you with a smile while he continues to play. Thank you, you mouth telling him, and he smiles as he plays harder.

“For what it’s worth,” you begin. “I know,” Kiyoomi finishes and the smile on his face is as sincere as his words. “Our time will always be a part in history that will be ours.”

You inhale, smile, and then cup his face in your hands. “It will always be priceless,” you add.

This was a piece you recognized from years ago, you recall with a smile. If you had your violin with you, it wouldn’t take much for you to remember the score and slip into a duet with him. The dynamics, you recognized too—and the way Kiyoomi’s playing only tells you he’s playing even louder.

Three years ago he played the same piece you would have played for the concert your mom would have finally made it to. The same day she died you sat in a practice room with Kiyoomi, crying your heart out as the he plays the same melody you’re walking to now.

Let it out, is what he told you and you did just that.

Let it go, is what he also wants you to know and you did that too.

All your life you’ve thought of love and thought it was lost when you lost her. Kiyoomi, you realize, is the love you were just beginning to learn. The love you’ve parted with before you tangled yourself in too deep; and perhaps in another lifetime you could chase each other bare bones and all, but in this life you know Hajime is the love you thought you closed the door to despite leaving it ajar.

One last look at Kiyoomi lets you see that he closes his eyes as you turn away and face forward.

And when you do, you see colors.

Green from his eyes, like the leaves on your bouquet and the grass outside your childhood home. A yellow flower pinned on his breast pocket; the color from the petals of a flower your mother loved to grow the most. Pink; like the color his cheeks turned into when you first shook his hand.

Then when he smiles at you—you feel a sense of home. When you see him begin to cry, you feel a sense of love that washes over you like the soft waves of the shallow end.

Steady, constant, and safe.

Love, like the words your mother wrote to you in a letter you discovered in an old journal. Where she wrote that even if she never had your father to love, she found her love in you. To be cradled in you so that was enough for her.

That she knew she was strong, but even more so because her strength was drawn from being with you.

Love, like the words from a friend as you remember Kiyoomi’s reminder that it’s okay to take that hand that just wants to pull you out of the deep end.

Love, like the awakening from the depth and seeing that Hajime is the hand that’s been there all along and you have yet to take.

Love, you remember like your mother’s voice.

Love, like the one that has been with you since the beginning. Because you were loved from the very start.

And Hajime—whose name spoke of beginnings.

for my mother whose love cradled me from the beginning. may you rest where the flowers bloom the most beautiful. i love you.

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mindofharry · 3 years

Text

in which you’re acting in olivia’s wilde’s new movie and harry happens to be a big fan.

SO EXCITED FOR YALL TO READ THIS!!! :D feedback is welcome as always <3

fluff!!!! and just a lot of stuff about hollywood and the industry etc!!

You remember being eighteen and getting your first acting job on a big series. The most popular series on netflix at the time. You were so young and so new but you couldn’t let this offer go, so you took it and it was the best decision you ever made. It started you career and you ended with a job you love and are so very passionate about.

Soon enough the show decided that they would do one final season, you were 20 and had only done two movies since then. They were good movies but there was nothing much to them, you were just the best friend in them and nothing more.

When the job the series ended your agents were looking high and low for auditions and ideas etc. Everything was going pretty well, you had secured a place on a movie (again only a best friend) and you were pretty confident with what the future was going to hold. Doing that movie, that you thought you would only be a side character - was the best thing that had ever happened to you. You were praised for your role in the drama, and ended wining awards you never could even dream about. You also picked up a lot of lifelong friends.

Things were going so well. You had auditions and managers wanting you from every corner of the states, directors and producers calling up your agents. You felt as if nothing could stop you or get in your way.

Then COVID struck.

You were so grateful that you had a roof over your head and friends living with you in such a depressing and emotional time, but you couldn’t help but be upset. You were so excited for your career to finally take off and for you to get properly working.

But you just had to make do with what you had. You were in lots of lives on instagrams and still did lots of press for you latest movie and tv series. Although it was basically just the same questions, but you had something to keep you busy.

***

“Now don’t get too excited, but i got you an audition for a movie olivia wilde is directing” Alexia, your agent and bestfriend said over the phone. You grabbed your other friend, Danny, arm grinning at his confused expression.

“I love you so much, y’know that” you say listening to laugh alexia let out.

“I said don’t get too excited, but i think you’ve got this. just do your usual set up and clean face and hair out of your face ok?”

You nod and then answer back with a quick yes and a goodbye before hanging up and squealing. “i’ve got an audition for an olivia wilde movie” you yell making danny stand up and bring you into a hug.

“Fuck yes!” he yelled and then suddenly he stopped looking you dead in the eye. “This is the first time i’ll see you in your zone, Ms Emmy award winning actress” he teased making you hit him with a soft smile.

“You’re gonna have to help me dan, like read my script out when i get it. And help me set up lighting and shit”

“Sounds important, you sure you don’t want sara to help you with that?” he asked referring to his sister, and your partner in crime. You had all been friends since middle school all living in the same neighbourhood and going to the same school.

You were together through everything.

When sara got denied from her top college, when danny came out as bisexual, when your mom had died. Of course you had fights, like every friend. But you always came back to eachother. Sara and danny stayed with you when you were done with acting, when your mom had died very suddenly, when your dad lost contact with you and your brother. They were really the best friends you could ever ask for. You were so grateful.

“Should be ok, will probably need sara’s opinion seen as shes a film major. But it’s pretty easy stuff dan” you insisted picking up your laptop from the couch and opening it up.

Danny nodded and sat beside you placing an around your shoulder.

“i think you’ll get it. don’t know what it’s about, but you’re definitely fit for an olivia wilde movie”

You grin at him and open up your email to see alexia has sent you some lines to record.

“i’m going to go over these a bit, but i’ll let you know when i need you”

***

Danny and sara helped you with the audition tape and calmed your nerves and frustrations. Usually your anxiety is high when waiting for a call back, but now with covid and not getting the work you want it’s beginning to get a little worse. But you had your best friends there to guide you through it.

Weeks went on and no news came and honestly you forgot all about it moving onto different projects and stuff for 2022.

Then you got a call.

“y/n. you got the part”

And with that, you, danny and sara celebrated. You were beyond grateful and couldn’t believe you had gotten work — let alone with olivia wilde.

A bottle of wine and chinese takeout was the best you guys were going to get, but you didn’t complain one bit. Love island was on in the background while danny painted your nails and sara did your hair. “I can’t believe i’m going to be working along side olivia fucking wilde” you squealed making danny laugh and sara pull your hair. You yelped. “Olivia wilde gets to work along side Y/N fucking L/N” she corrected earning a couple of laughs out of you and danny. You guys celebrated anything and everything, it was like your tradition.

Danny got a haircut - celebration. sara finished editing that video that she had in the background for a good morning - celebration. you finally getting rid of those horrible earrings - celebration.

it was also an excuse to order unhealthy amounts of takeout.

“y’know i feel good about this”

Danny nodded putting the nail polish on the coffee table. “i can see that. look more confident” he added sara agreeing with him.

“just don’t forget about us when you get to go to the met gala. you’ve already done one hit movie, let’s hope this this another”

***

The script you received was absolutely amazing.

you couldn’t explain it, how it made you feel. You just couldn’t wait to play this character - although it was very different to your last character, you still felt so connected to it. A thriller was something you could never see yourself in, even now you have a hard time believing you’re going to be in one. And the amount of sex scenes thats in it, it did get you a little excited, albeit you were a tiny bit nervous.

“Harry styles” Alexia said over zoom, you grinned and danced around your sitting room.

“What are you dancing about?” danny asked putting the groceries on the counter.

“i’m gonna be having pretend sex with harry fucking styles!” you yelled making alexia cackle and danny dance around the room with you. “this is definitely something to celebrate. i’ll get the wine!” danny said dancing his way to the kitchen.

“well i’m glad you’re not shy. Olivia said harrys quite nervous about it all. obviously he was in dunkirk, but this is his first proper movie” she said making you nod “i know you’ll make him feel comfortable, but you are so confident so please don’t scare him off” alexia teased making you pout.

“i can’t help it. but i’ll make him a gift basket or something” you shrugged and alexia smiled.

“this is why i love you”

“ok so, harry styles, olivia wilde and y/n l/n in one movie?” sara asked making you smile as danny cheered. “my baby is making me so proud” sara cried dragging you up off the floor and spinning you around. you giggled and poured.

“i love you guys so much, y’know that?” you say putting an arm around both of their shoulders.

“eh, we love you too” sara said shrugging her shoulders.

“eh? shut the fuck up. say you love me like you mean it” you say tickling them. “ok! we love you, so much” danny yelled making you stop and put your hands on your hips.

“good to know”

And so the days went by you video chatting with olivia and the other producers. Making sure to check in with everyone as well. Olivia was the sweetest person ever, she called to just talk or to go over any queries or notes you had. She was honestly such a genuine person and you were glad you got to work with someone so kind.

Today was the day you would be meeting some of the cast and producers etc. You hadn’t really seen anyone other than alexis, sara and danny so you were excited.

You’re an outgoing, extroverted person so covid really hit you hard. You get bored easily too, so you really needed this lunch.

Deciding to dress up a little, you put on your favourite flare jeans and white tank top. You tucked it in and placed your red cardigan over it. And obviously your go to shoes were your white converse — your feet haven’t grown since high school, so you call these converse your lucky converse since you’ve worn them at every event. even at a red carpet!

Placing your hair in a braid, you did some natural looking makeup and then placed your rings on your fingers. “I’m going now, sara!” you called out only earning a groan — she had been working late last night so there was no seeing her until at least 2:30.

Danny was out on a hike clearing his energy or some shit he read online.

You were a bit nervous to drive there as you had only gotten your license recently, usually sara insists on driving everyone apparently it’s therapeutic, you’re in actual hell while driving. luckily the restaurant is only 10 minutes drive, so hopefully you make it there alive. you didn’t know how many people would be there, with covid and all you didn’t really know what to expect. You knew olivia would be there, and probably harry too. Which weirdly enough you weren’t too nervous about.

you had made a post on instagram about being excited to work with olivia and harry and the many other amazing people - and the harry fans of course went crazy. But overall everyone took the news really well.

When you arrived at the restaurant there were a few paps, probably there for harry and not expecting you. You’re a new popular actress, so this would make the paparazzi a lot of money. Once word got out that Y/N L/N and harry styles were having lunch together it would probably end it mayhem.

“y/n! over here!” a voice called out as you walked into the restaurant.

You smiled as you saw olivia wave at you. “ah! i’m so sorry i’m late” you say and olivia shook her head bringing you into a hug. “don’t worry about it! we’ve ordered some drinks, got you a coke” she said.

“i’m harry” a deep voice said from behind you, making you look around and see - harry fucking styles - introducing himself to you.

“i know who you are!” you giggled pulling him into a hug, which he obviously didn’t expect, but took it anyways. “i’m y/n” you say pulling back and sitting down infront him crossing your legs.

“i know who you are too” he blushed making you laugh again.

“you’re vegan, right?” you asked and he nodded “yeah, have been for a while. trying hard to stay somewhat healthy over quarantine” he said sipping on his water.

“well, i get a takeout probably two times a week and haven’t been to a gym in, i’d say 5 years”

Harry laughed loudly, making you laugh too. Olivia and the producers gave each other knowing smiles. They really hit the jackpot with this one.

***

“that wasn’t as bad as i thought” you mumbled as you got your first covid test done. It was very uncomfortable to say the least, but it didn’t hurt and you didn’t pass out so that was a plus.

you were going to start working next thursday, if everything goes to plan. If someone has covid then they obviously have to push it back.

You were so excited to get to work, it wouldn’t be like any other set you’d worked on. But you had a feeling it was going to be one you’ll remember forever.

“how was it?” danny asked as you got back in the car.

“better than expected. uncomfortable, but ok” you mumbled sitting back in the seat. Danny noticed how tired you were so he turned off the music and put down your window a little and let you sleep the whole journey home. You had been at all hours going over your script. This is what happened with you last role, and it was just the way you worked.

By the time you go on set you had everyone’s lines memorised.

The days went by slowly. It was actually quite painful. But your covid results came and you were negative and so was everyone else on the set and in your household. So you could finally get into work.

You were driven to work on thursday by a very nice man called john. He talked non stop, but it was nice to get to talk to some other than sara, danny and your agents.

“Have a good day john” you called out stepping out of the car your new pink mask adorning your face.

you had to get bangs the other day — you never heard the fucking end of it off of danny and sara. you had bangs in high school, along with some really badly done piercings and you told yourself never again. Of course the bangs looked good, they were amazing and you actually suited them this time. But that didn’t stop sara taking out all of the pictures of your freshman year and making you do a side by side for her instagram.

“you look tired” a voice called making you turn around a stick up the middle finger. You recognised the voice immediately, harry styles. He laughed coming beside you in his white vote shirt and tracksuit bottoms.

“i have to go and get my tattooes covered now” you sighed placing your phone in your tote bag, harry nodded “me too, the only time i’ll ever hate getting these tattoos”

“y’know i like them. the tattoos, they suit you” you say opening up the trailer door. harry stopped and smirked “hmm. see you later”

Covering up the tattoos didn’t take as long as you thought. The makeup and hair took a good hour and was painful with the mask - you did nearly pass out from the heat, but luckily harry stopped by with a cup of tea just in time.

God.

That man was something else. Seen as he’s never properly done this before, you thought he’d be full of first day jitters. But no, he’s going trailer to trailer, with tea’s and coffees.

“you nearly ready? we have our first scene soon” harry said leaning against the trailer door. All of you were practically ordered to wear a coat to cover the clothes as some paps had been spotted. It was a rather cold day so it didn’t make a difference to you.

“eager?”

He nodded holding your hand helping you down the steps of the trailer — heels were a real bitch you decided.

“paps and heel are assholes” you say making harry laugh. “you can say that again” he said dropping your hand and walking beside you.

You wanted him to hold your hand.

“don’t worry, i’ll go easy on you” you tease getting a pinch in return.

“more like the other way”

“yeah, christopher nolan movie ey? proper actor”

Harry rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face placing an arm around your shoulder.

“come on, wife.”

***

The days were long and some days were hard. But harry made everything so much better. Hugging you when you needed it, joking when you needed a laugh. There was paparazzi pictures of harry speaking and you laughing - which was a horrible cackle that made harry laugh. The fans were going crazy for you guys, and you were both asked constantly on whether there could be something more going on with you two.

“Another headline, H”

Harry shook his head with a small smile, placing the chinese onto the plate.

“your first drama headline, i’m so proud” Danny said placing an arm around you. Danny, sara you and now harry had decided to celebrate the first two weeks of filming and now apparently your first drama headline. Something about harry joining in all your tradition and not complaining about the awful food or very obnoxious and rude chats that go in, makes you soft and weirdly enough besotted.

“oh shut up, i’ll tell the paps that i’m dating you again. they’ll never leave you alone” you warn and danny backed off.

“again?” harry asked laughing slightly and passing you the plate full of food.

“everytime danny’s mean to me i tell the paps that we’re dating, even told one i was pregnant and that he didn’t want the baby”

“fuck off. remind me to never get on your badside” harry cackled sitting down beside you his food on the coffee table and his wine in the other. He had, had a good few drinks before hand too — he said “it’s my cheat night”.

Soon enough danny and sara went off to bed, not before danny teased you about how in love you and harry are. “oi! fuck off” harry yelled making danny squeal.

“please chase after me, daddy” danny said running down the hall.

“don’t humour him” you giggled sipping out of your wine glass.

“i’m in love with your friends” he said pausing to take a big gulp of his wine. “they’re just so genuine” he finished leaning back and placing a pillow on his lap. you nodded in agreement.

“we’ve been friends for years, before any of us were like somewhat famous”

“y’know i’ve seen your first movie about 100 hundred times” harry admitted making you flush. “shut up. you’re talking out of your ass” you say taking his wine glass away and pausing netflix.

“i’m serious. had a proper crush on you too” he laughed shaking his head.

“i don’t know if you remember, but i think it was a teens choice awards. and you had gone on stage to get an award and i helped you up the stairs thinking you had heels on” he said and you remember it vividly now.

“oh shit yeah! no, i wore my lucky converse. they’re pretty cool too”

“i think youre pretty” harry whispered moving closer to you. you bit your lip to try and stop yourself from squealing.

“hmmm. ok mr styles”

Before you could come up with another joke harry placed his lips on yours. You didn’t even hesitate in kissing him back, your hands flying to his hair. He moaned at the feeling of you tugging on it.

“you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do that for” harry said slightly out of breath.

“don’t worry, darling” you paused.

“me too”

#AHH #hope you like!!!! ☺️#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #asks #requests #imagines #fic #fics #fanfic

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sunaswife · 3 years

Text

Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

🔪: THIS CHAPTER WILL CONTAIN AN ATTEMPTED SUICIDE SCENE PLEASE BE ADVISED IF YOU CHOOSE TO NOT READ THEN SKIP THE ITALICS AND START READING AGAIN WITH THE REGULAR FONT

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter Ten

“Don’t worry I will save the princess and the queen!” Rini yelled with a paper towel sword. “Rawr!!!” Rin sat on his knees and flared his arms. “Oh no save us!” Akira yelled and you both stayed huddled on the couch. “I’m going to eat the princess and the queen.” Rin growled and attack Rini. Rini fell on his back and Rin began tickling his son.

Rini immediately began laughing and thrashing around under his dad and you were trying to tell them to be careful so Rini wouldn’t pee on himself. “See mom, boys are useless.” Akira muttered and stood up on the couch. Before you can scold her she hopped on Rin’s back and began pulling his hair. “Bad dragon don’t tickle the knight!” She huffed and began smack. “Oww, what the fuck—“ Rin hissed and gripped Akiras shoulders. He flipped her and made her land on her back (gently) and began tickling her as well.

Akira’s laugh filled the living room and Rini was trying to catch his breath. “Mom save us!” Akira yelled. “Jesus Christ.” You sighed and did exactly what Akira did. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your chest rubbed his back. He froze and Akira caught her breath. She lifted her legs and with her feet pushed him back and Rin lost his balance. You fell back and Rin landed right on top of you. “Ow..” you mumbled and rubbed your head. “I’m sorry.” Rin groaned and turned, his face rested right between your breasts. He slowly lifted himself and he looked at your chest. He looked up at your face and saw the embarrassment. “Holy shit I’m sorry!” He said and immediately pulled away.

“It’s okay. Sorry for landing on your back.” You muttered and he held out his hand, you grabbed it and he pulled you up. “Mommy and daddy sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Your kids sang and you scowled. “Come on, time for bed.” You immediately said and they began to whine. “No cuz then daddy’s gonna leave.” Akira whined. “No arguing. It’s late and momma and I need to have a talk.” He said and carried them both.

He walked them to their room and began tucking them in. They kept protesting that they didn’t want him to leave but he said that he had to and it was final. He was going to come back and see them anyways.

A crying fest began and it took almost an hour for them to calm down and eventually they knocked out due to exhaustion. Finally you and Rin sighed and closed the door to their room. “I can’t believe you did that for five years already.” Rin said and rubbed his shoulder. “I need to see a chiropractor.” You muttered, “me too.” He replied. You made your way to the kitchen and took out a wine cooler, “want one?” You asked, he nodded and you tossed it and he caught it.

“I’m gonna need like four of these.” You said and Rin snorted. “You bet.” He sighed and you both got comfortable on the couch. “Where do i start?” Rin hummed. “Post breakup...?” You suggested and he nodded. “Once upon a time—“ he started and you nudged him with your foot. “I’m your ex not your kid.” You said and he chuckled.

“Alright. So it started when—“

“Sweetie please talk to us..” Rintarou’s mother knocked on her sons door. “I’m fine.” Rin spat out. “Just leave me alone.” He said as he held the pig plush in his arms. “Rintarou I’m worried. Please.” His mother begged. “What do you want me to say?!” He raised his voice causing his mother’s eyes to widened.

He’s never ever raised his voice at her. “The girl that I love left me. How am I supposed to feel?! I don’t have anyone anymore!” He cried. “Sweetie she’s your first love, of course it’ll hurt but—“ “She’s my only love! Don’t you get it! I don’t want to be with anyone but her. She was my rock, she was there when nobody else was. She supported me and inspired me to be better and now she’s gone.” He sobbed and squeeze the pig plush.

He saw the photo of you and him smiling by his bed and his chest tightened. “You fucking idiot!” He yelled at himself. He threw the plush and grabbed his wallet from his desk. He opened the door and his mom was standing there looking at her son in shock.

“Rintarou—you’re out. Are you hungr—“ “I’ll be back in a few days.” He told her. “Wait what? Why—Rintarou I know you’re heartbroken but you’ll find someone who will truly love you and appreciate—“ “Don’t you get it you old hag?! She loved me and appreciated me! But I ruined it! I ruined everything!” He neared his mom causing her to take a step back.

His eyes widened and he saw the fear in his own mother’s eyes. “Mom I—“

Slap

“I’m sick and tired of you being stupid! She’s gone. She doesn’t want you. Just move on. It won’t be easy but you’ll get over her eventually.” She told her son and he wiped his face with his sleeve. “I’m going to Miyagi and I’m going to find her.” He had decided, “With what money Rintarou? That’s a day long trip.” His mother asked.

He looked at her and she shook her head, “I’m not giving you money to see your little ex girlfriend just for you to come back even more depressed.” She told him and he rolled his eyes and slammed his bedroom door.

His mother sighed.

That night she got into a fight with her husband. “Rintarou is severely depressed and he’s having mood swings over some girl!” She hissed and his dad sighed. “My love, he’ll get over her eventually. He just needs his space—“ Rintarou’s parents were both interrupted by banging on their front door. They looked at eachother confused and his dad went to answer.

When he opened the door he was met with the gray haired twin. “Osamu hi..what brings you here—“ “Where is Rin?” He immediately asked and pushed through them. “What do you mean, he’s in his room.” Rin’s father said. “Excuse me.” Osamu quickly panted as he ran up the stairs. It was incredible disrespectful to barge in unannounced and without taking off your shoes but he wanted to make sure that his best friend was okay.

He found Rin’s door and tried the door knob. “Leave me alone!” Rin’s voice cracked as he tried to open the new pain meds his mother bought. “Rin listen to me, open the door. Please.” Osamu begged. “Osamu whats the meaning of this?” Rin’s father automatically asked. “Rin open the door.” Osamu repeated. Everyone else was muted from his mind his watery eyes and shaking hand made it hard for him to open the pill bottle.

He didn’t answer and Osamu’s heart stopped. He took a few steps back, then rammed his shoulder in the door. Rin flinched and turned to see his door slightly cracked. Osamu winced at the pain and he stepped back once more instead of his shoulder he lifted his leg to kick and he tried breaking it once more.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck.” Suna muttered as he kept his struggle. Finally the pill bottle cap unscrewed and his eyes widened. He held the pills in his palm and he put his head back to swallow. Even if he chokes trying to swallow the dry pills it doesn’t matter. He grabbed his water bottle, the one you put stickers all over and he drank as much as his throat could take.

It hurt swallowing down those pills, his throat burned and it felt like he was being cut from the inside. From the corner of his eye the door bursted open and came in Osamu with Suna’s poor weeping mother being held by her husband, his father. “Are you a fucking idiot?!” The gray haired twin screamed and immediately pulled Suna to his side. “Call 119 NOW!” Osamu yelled. “Leave me alone Samu—“ “Like hell I will! What would Y/N think if she find out you did this?!” He yelled. Tears filled his eyes and he could barley see his best friend. Rin stayed quiet and his gaze shifted passed Osamu’s shoulder.

“Y/N...what are you doing here?” Suna whispered and Osamu saw Suna’s eyes next to him. “What do you mean I’m stupid? I just feel so lonely... I said I was sorry. But you didn’t want to listen.” Suna began to cry once more and Osamu hugged him. “It’s gonna be okay. Please stay with me Rin.”

“Oh my god.” You cried, “I’m so sorry.” You apologized. “Hey hey it’s okay. I’m fine now.” Suna smiled softly and held you in his arms. “You could have been dead because of me.” You smacked his chest. Even in tears You looked so beautiful.

“In all honesty it was my fault to begin with. I shouldn’t have played with your heart. And when you left, it broke my heart. And I desperately wanted to get it back. I guess it showed how much I loved you.”

“How much I still love you.” He said softly.

“Rin you’re insane.” You wiped your eyes. “And what happened after?” You asked. “Well I had a dream about you and you seemed disappointed in the actions and state I was in. So I decided to try to be better than I was before. So that eventually you can take me back. I don’t know if you noticed but I’m a bit more social.” He joked and your heart swelled.

“In all honesty you were my motivation out of my depression. Sometimes I still get episodes and it sucks but I’ve been fine for a while now.” He admitted. “So you literally did a 180 just for..me?” You hiccuped. “Yeah. I love you. Always have and always will.” He looked into your eyes hopefully.

“Do you want to move in?” You asked and his eyes widened. “You want me to move in?” He asked. “Well how else are we gonna raise two kids? Our schedules are always changing. It makes sense to just live together.” You said and he nodded.

“Does that mean we can like share a room and cuddle like last night?”

“No.”

🔪: I know this was a lot but I wanted it to end a little positively

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohrintarou @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

#haikyuu suna #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarō #suna x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #Akira and Rini #your everything #Inarizaki

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