#listen I teach kindergarten

[blarrghe]

would be really great if adorable domestic ficlets about sequel!Twelve Nights (a thing that DOES NOT ACTUALLY EXIST there’s NO PLAN) would stop jumping into my head while I’m trying to finish this chapter of the Merrill Sessions and you can blame Taren and Dorian and the baby if I don’t. anyway this one is called Favourites: -- Kindergarten is a time of self discovery.

Bracha is five years old now, which means she can start kindergarten, and she is very excited. Taren is excited for her, in a your-happiness-is-my-happiness kind of way, even if he’s openly shedding tears as they pull up to the school parking lot. Dorian is not so generous. He is, frankly, just upset. He’d made a very good case as to why she should continue to learn from them, at home, including: they have more advanced degrees between the two of them than the entire staff of the elementary school put together, Bracha can‘t take field trips to the library or the valley to learn about ancient Tevene history or Dalish trail-signs or bugs every day if she goes to Kindergarten, and also, Kindergarten doesn’t have cuddling.

But apparently, Kindergarten actually takes a lot of field trips to the library and to the valley and even to the next town over to the science museum, Kindergarten’s teacher is a well-loved Dalish woman with wonderful credentials and two upstanding young teaching assistants whom Taren knows personally, and apparently having advanced degrees in astrophysics and business does not better suit one to teaching reading and social-emotional skills than ones in early childhood education and developing pedagogy. Also, Bracha really wants to go to Kindergarten, all her friends are going to Kindergarten, and ever since Autie Dee bought her a backpack in preparation, she hasn’t taken it off. So Kindergarten won that argument, though Dorian made a deal with his husband that they would reevaluate the situation in a year or two, because by that time beginning her education in astrophysics would be warranted, anyway. And now they are in the school parking lot and Taren is quietly weeping and Bracha is bouncing up and down in her carseat with her bright green backpack in her lap and her hair in already-messy braided pigtails, and Dorian has to be the one to get them inside.

Taren wipes his eyes as Bracha drags them up to the door, one of her tiny hands in each of her fathers’, and Kindergarten’s teacher is wearing overalls and a bombastic smile, greeting each child with a fun name-tag sticker and slow, patient directions for navigating her classroom: cubbies for their snacks, a reading nook with pillows if they get tired, activity tables, colouring sheets and markers in one station, a table filled with water and toys, bins of costumes and a kitchen set, a colourful carpet by the board where they’ll sit for stories and songs; a five-year-old’s dream. Dorian gets the feeling that the information package is more for them than it is for her, especially considering that Bracha practically sprints off to an easel equipped with water-colour fingerpaints the moment she spots it, and the teacher continues explaining the plans for the day without her.

Taren smiles, somehow finding one at the sound of Bracha’s laugh when she spots a friend across the room, while Dorian wonders if he can inspect the reading nook. But they make it out of there, somehow, and before driving them home, Taren drives them both over to Auntie Dee’s, and she sighs at them and gives them ice cream. Taren blushes, and Dorian is distracted: when Taren was little, ice cream always helped, she says. Taren protests that he has never mended a hurt with ice cream, while digging into the container for more, and Auntie Dee says chocolate chip was his favourite.

Favourite is an interesting word. Someone at Bracha’s school introduces her to the word, the blighted teacher, probably, and then soon Kindergarten is her favourite. It stings the first time, Kindergarten is her favourite, Miss Jessa is her favourite, but then Lara is her favourite, Eirlana is her favourite, Daven is her favourite, rocks are her favourite, animal-shaped cookies are her favourite... Dorian is pretty sure that she doesn’t know what the word actually means, and he calms down. A little.

But Kindergarten teaches her many things, not just new words, but new skills. He still won’t admit it, but when she comes back with letter recognition and blends, reading sight words and rhyming word families, when she starts counting in three languages and subitizes the numbers on the dice during board game night, when she tells him a story one night and evaluates that the problem in it was solved by sharing without any prompting, he starts to think that maybe Kindergarten is actually doing her some good. Soon, she figures out that with ‘favourite‘ you can have as many as you can come up with categories, and so the obsession continues.

Bracha loves to tell anyone who will listen, and with even more enthusiasm ask in turn, about favourites. It makes for surprisingly stimulating dinner conversation. The entire family learns many things about one another. From favourite colours (Bracha’s is rainbow, Dorian’s is green because black isn’t a colour, and Taren’s is also rainbow), to favourite foods (Bracha’s is waffles, Dorian’s is something he had once in Antiva but can’t remember the name of, made better by its unattainable mystique, and Taren’s is soup, which is cheating because anything can be soup — this argument takes up all of dinner, and by the end of it his favourite is determined to actually be pumpkin pie.), to more substantial questions like “what is your favourite day” (clarified to be as in ever in the history of ever — they all pick her birthday), and “what is your favourite book” which all of them flatly refuse to answer.

Dorian learns things he never thought to learn about his husband. His favourite flowers are pink heather, his favourite fish is starfish, his favourite animal is a blackbear, his favourite shirt is the one Dorian gave him three Satinalia’s ago and his favourite number is twelve. He winks at Dorian like it hasn’t always been. Dorian also finds himself taking stock of things he never has before; considering his favourite socks — knitted by Auntie Dee, obviously, his favourite toy — a duck he had when he was little, and hasn’t thought about since, his favourite colour of apples — after determining which, he starts buying the green ones more. She asks for some truly bizare determinations too, such as his favourite sense; Kindergarten went to the science museum that day, so he takes the teachable moment to say proprioception and then teach her the hidden-hand trick, because he needs to solidify that he is still smarter than Miss Jessa.

He learns that Bracha likes green apples too, and that she knows because they did an experiment at school where they tried all the different ones and filled out a graph, that her favourite toy is the bear he got her the day they took her home (though he knew that already, its name is Chauncy and it follows her everywhere), her favourite socks were also knitted by Auntie Dee and they are her favourite because they are rainbow, and her favourite sense is definitely proprioception — she cannot wait to tell Miss Jessa about it. When he puts her to bed, he reads her her favourite story, which they’ve agreed is a designation that can rotate each week, and she points out all the sight words. (Her favourite sight word is “no” — she doesn’t declare this, of course, but considering how often the five year old uses it, Dorian can’t be fooled.) When she is sleepy and slumping, her head nodding into her pillow, she reaches up towards his face and pulls his cheek into a kiss, before he can finish the tale.

“Thanks daddy,” she mumbles, and it squishes into him like a hug every damn time, “you’re my favourite.”

“What about papa?” he smiles softly, returning the kiss with the softest scold — it’s probably not okay to let her pick favourites — and she nods, eyes closing as he pulls the covers up over her.

“Papa is my favourite too. Miss Jessa says you can have lots of favourite people, it’s not like colours.” she says, then opening her eyes with a sudden thought, she adds “and actually, you can have lots of favourite colours,” very seriously. Dorian nods in serious agreement.

“Okay,” he says, “then you and papa are my favourite too.”

In the living room, after he tells him of this new rule to the game of favourites, Taren resoundingly agrees.

[mudkipt]

hard day at work

[wither-rose-circus]

Blasting lovejoy in my ears to Cope

[youjustwaitsunshine]

shoutout to all the 6 year olds who are really cool

[pan-gya]

when your mom’s a kindergarten teacher, sometimes you’ll hear weird singing coming from the kitchen, and it’s normal

[sunmoonjune]

in their loving hands

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru (poly!)

warnings: minors dni!! blood, death, gore, cursing, possible sexual scenarios (no actual smut), mafia, fluff, minor angst and hurt/comfort, slowburn, mentions of cheating (reader is afraid of being a home wrecker), probably ooc gojo an geto tbh, insecurity, mentions of being followed/chased, reader is nearly attacked on more than one occasion 

summary: mafia! single fathers/kindergarten teacher! au (this fic has so many tropes in it haha!!) found family!au for mother’s day anyone? You’re the sweet teacher to Nanako and Mimiko, the twin daughters of the two strongest mafia leaders in Japan. What happens when they set their sights on you? 

word count: 18.8k

a/n: if this crashes on Tumblr, it’s also on my ao3! my username is the same as this one! listen... satosugu own my heart and I can’t handle their canon relationship so this is what happens - I write fluff to cope :( anyway this fic is basically just me self-inserting myself into satosugu with an extra side of found family with nanako and mimiko (they deserved better). lol enjoy! also ik gojo wasn’t really one of the girl’s father figures in canon, but shut up I love found family dynamics okay 

ao3 link

It’s a cold, winter evening when you decide you need to move apartments.

The heat went out three nights ago, and you swear you’ve begun losing feeling in your toes. Curled into a tight ball under a mountain of blankets, you attempt to maintain as much body heat as possible. Your tiny, decrepit apartment isn’t in the nicest area of town, so the technicians won’t come to fix the heater for a few more days. 

It’s practically falling apart at the seams - your place. The wallpaper is nearly peeling, the lights flicker when turned on and there’s always a wet smell lingering, no matter how many candles you light. In fact, you insist there’s mold in your run-down bathroom, but your landlord thinks you’re crazy. 

You’d love to move. 

In fact, you’d give anything for a nice apartment - no, even a decent apartment would do. Just one with working plumbing and working door locks would do. You could only imagine how nice it would be to not have to worry about a drunk neighbor accidentally barging through your front door in the early hours of the morning.

Sadly, you can only dream. 

For now anyway. 

A new apartment costs more than you can afford. The only reason you stay in this dingy apartment building is that it’s all you can sustain on a teacher’s salary. The price of rent in Japan is high, especially in the heart of Tokyo. As is, you’re lucky to be able to pay for your current apartment without a roommate or two. 

Being a kindergarten teacher wasn’t the original plan, but it’s the one you fell in love with. You had gone to university under an engineering degree - outrageous, right? Somewhere along the line, you ended up working at a daycare on the weekends to help pay for classes. 

It’s there that you fall in love with teaching. The kids all clambered over each other when you came in to work, crying out in excitement when their favorite caretaker finally arrived. They called out your name with wide smiles, holding up their arms in the hopes of being picked up. 

During story time, there was often a struggle between the children to decide who got to sit in your lap. In fact, you’d often have to switch every few minutes to avoid the children's teary eyes. 

You started looking forward to the weekends; waiting in anticipation for the gooey smiles and youthful, bright eyes of your group of children. It quickly became the favorite part of your week. Getting to see the wonder in their eyes whenever you showed them something new never ceased to bring a grin to your cheeks. 

By the time you graduated, you had decided to return to school to get your teaching degree. Your parents had been furious. Why would you throw away a well paid career in engineering for a teaching job? 

It was hard to explain. 

When you first went into university, you’d picked your major based on what your parents had wanted. In high school, you were an amazing chemistry student. You enjoyed the science, and your parents encouraged this. A career in STEM would have made them proud, so you chose chemical engineering in the hopes of continuing their happiness. Besides, your brother had been an engineer. Everything you chose to do had to at least match his achievements, or else you'd just be falling short of his success.

Only after graduating, were you able to finally pursue something you were happy to do. 

And being a kindergarten teacher truly did make you happy. Sure, it didn’t pay as well as an engineering job, but at least you were pursuing a career that you enjoyed. It was better than being stuck in a job you hated for the rest of your life. 

Besides, the wide, bright smiles of your small group of students was usually worth the pain. Seeing the overjoyed grins and hearing their happy giggles as they worked together on an art project made your heart swell. Especially the elated laughter that came from a certain pink-haired boy. 

Said child was currently seated in your lap, with a yellow crayon clutched in his fist as he drew on a piece of paper seated on the table before you. Yuuji had won the battle of rock, paper, scissors between him and Nobara, who had pouted fiercely after losing. Though before you could soothe the girl, Yuuji had squeezed her tight in a hug and promised to let her cuddle after he finished his drawing. Nobara faked a gag, pushing Yuuji away with a complaint of ‘cooties!’

Your heart squeezed at Yuuji’s generosity. Of course, you weren’t surprised - Yuuji was a bright kid with a father who raised him right. 

Nanami Kento was a good friend of yours. The two of you grew up side by side, drawing in the dirt under the playground’s slide when the other kids didn’t want to play with you. You had always told Nanami he should play with the others, but he insisted on staying by your side. None of the other children wanted to play with the ‘weird, foreign kid’ who barely spoke Japanese. However, Nanami always stayed. He sat by your side and listened to your softly uttered stories of fantasy adventures you read in your books.

It was you who helped raise Yuuji alongside Nanami, after his wife passed away a few years back. Nanami had been devastated. Yuuji was too young to remember, but his mother had been sick for a long time. She’d never fully recovered after giving birth to him, and eventually passed away less than a year after. 

Since Nanami worked a full time job to help provide for his son, you helped take care of Yuuji when you weren’t on campus for grad school. You spent most nights falling asleep with a children’s cartoon on the television, and a pink-haired toddler in your grasp. Nanami would come home to the two of you asleep on the couch. He’d pry his son away from your protective grasp, laying the boy to sleep in his own bed before gently waking you. 

Most nights, you’d fall asleep in his spare bedroom after he insisted that you stay the night rather than walk back to your dorm in the dark. 

It was no secret that Yuuji was one of your favorites. Though you kept it well hidden from the other children, Nanami could tell your honey-filled smiles were always a tad brighter for his son. 

Though, there were two other students that were slowly climbing the ranks to become your favorite.

And their unreasonably attractive fathers had nothing to do with it, you swear. 

Nanako and Mimiko were two sweet young girls who’d been introduced to your kindergarten class a few weeks late. They’d been nervous at first, clutching each other’s hands and hiding behind the legs of their long-haired father. You'd tried desperately not to stare at the gorgeous man before you, but his silky, dark hair and soft smile had immediately caught your eye. He was so tall, with wide shoulders and strong biceps wrapped under a tight, black dress shirt. You could have sworn you almost started drooling. The hint of ink under the sleeves had you aching to pull the shirt away from his skin, but you suppressed those provocative thoughts. 

It was hardly appropriate to think those things in front of children, after all. Even so, he was a father of two of your students - probably in a relationship at that!

Shaking off the haze, you approached the man with Yuuji still in your arms. The boy had his arms wrapped around your neck as you sat propped up on your hip. He was starting to get too big to be held like this, but Yuuji insisted every time. 

Setting Yuuji on the floor, you nudged him in the direction of Megumi, one of Yuuji’s closest friends. You smiled as you watched him race toward the darker haired boy, and let out a giggle as Megumi’s blank stare turned toward his friend. Despite the lack of emotion on his face, Megumi couldn’t stand to be away from his friend for long. 

The man before you watched you gaze at your students. The fond smile on your lips had him allowing a soft one of his own to raise the corners of his lips. 

When you turned back to the Adonis of a man before you, you greeted him softly. “Hello! Are you the father of the two new students?” 

He stepped forward a little, difficult with the small, chubby fists grasping onto his pant legs. A little chuckle left his lips at their shy demeanor before he replied.

“I am.” Dear god, his voice nearly made you shiver. It was deep and coated in sugar. You wanted to drown in it, if that was even possible. 

“Sorry for registering the girls late, by the way,” He continued. “They weren’t quite ready to take that step yet.” 

You shake your head. “It’s alright! All children have different learning curves - I wouldn’t want to push them before they were ready.” 

Geto’s eyes seem to soften even further. 

“I’m Geto,” he provides, “Suguru Geto, and these are my girls: Nanako and Mimiko.” 

He attempts to usher the girl’s out from behind his legs, but they stubbornly cling on. You smile, used to the cautious demeanor of some of the other students. Crouching down, you rest your weight on your toes and make yourself a bit smaller so as not to scare the new faces. 

“Hello,” you softly utter. Your voice is hushed, just above a whisper but it’s filled with a sweetness Geto can’t quite describe. You introduce yourself to the two girls, softly uttering your name so both they, and Suguru, can hear. 

“I’m going to be your teacher this year,” you happily provide. “I hope we’ll get along well!” The two young girls poke a head out from behind their father, and you almost giggle when a face appears from either side of his legs. It’s almost comical how in tune they are with each other. 

“Twins?” You look up to Geto, who nods gently. You respond with a gentle hum, before shifting your attention back to the girls. They study you warily, with their small fists still clutching on to their father’s dress pants. The dark haired girl clutches a plush between the fingers of her other hand. Eyeing the plush, you shift tactics.

“Ah, Kuromi,” you gently motion to the plush. “I have one too!” You pull a keychain from your pocket, where you keep the keys for your classroom alongside those for your apartment. Attached to the keychain is a little My Melody plush, her pink character matching the black of the Kuromi plush between the girl’s fingers. 

The girl’s eyes dart to the plush keychain, before they look back at her own. Her eyes are still a little worried, but your wide smile and gentle eyes coax her to move. She looks between her father and her sister once, before she shyly toddles on her feet. Slowly, she leans out from behind her father and drags her twin with her. The light-haired girl clutches her sister’s hand, eyes wide as they approach. 

The dark-haired twin is the first to approach you. She reaches out when she stops at your feet. At your crouched height, you’re still taller than her, but she comes close to passing over your head. She gently grasps the keychain between her fingers, and you let her. 

“We match!” You happily giggle. “See?” 

You hold the keychain next to her plush, letting the characters bump together. “Two pieces of a puzzle!” 

The girl lets out a soft giggle as you wiggle the plushies in your hands. It’s hesitant, but you can tell she’s warming up to you. Your heart squeezes at the notion. 

“What's your name, Angel?” 

She rocks on her heels, still a little shy but opens her mouth to respond anyway. “Mimiko,” she utters gently. Her tiny voice almost has you audibly cooing, but you settle for another warm smile instead. 

Her twin sister wobbles next to Mimiko, so you turn your attention to her. She appears a little less shy, with bangs falling into her curious eyes and a shirt filled with bright red strawberries. 

“And what about you, Pumpkin?” You address her. “What’s your name?” 

“Nanako,” she quietly provides. 

“Those are beautiful names!” You softly cheer. “I think you’ll fit right in with the others! I’ve been looking for two strong girls to help me out with the plushie closet. Do you think you can help me take care of them?” 

Their eyes light up. With furious nods, they take another step forward. Quick agreements fall from their lips and you smile in victory. Standing from your crouched position, you hold your hands out for the girls to grab on to. Despite their previous hesitance, both girls reach to grab a hand and clutch a few of your fingers between theirs. 

When you turn to face Geto again, you’re nearly taken aback by the sweet look on his face. He’s utterly smitten with how you treat his daughters. So gentle and kind, taking initiative to bring up their interests in order to help break them out of their shell. Geto swears he’s already falling. Not to mention, you were so breathtakingly beautiful. Suguru knows that Satoru is going to have a field day when he meets you. 

Letting a shy smile of your own overtake your face, heat rises to your cheeks as you remember their gorgeous father. 

“Thank you,” Geto utters earnestly. Not everyone would be so delicate with his girl’s shy demeanor. He can’t thank you enough. 

“It’s nothing,” you answer. “They deserve to progress at their own pace. I’d never make them do something they don't want.” Geto can tell you mean it, sincerity filling your eyes with a stubbornness lingering behind them. 

He nods before returning his attention to his daughters. He crouches this time, matching his daughter’s gazes as he muses, “Daddy’ll be back in a few hours, alright? Can you be good for your Sensei while m’gone?” 

His voice is filled with sugar. The two girls nod strongly, letting go of your hands to rush forward to throw themselves into their fathers arms. His wide, strong arms come up to wrap around their little bodies. Pulling them into his chest, a grin on his lips, he presses a kiss to each of their cheeks before he stands. The girls return to your side, each taking a hand once more. You smile sweetly back down at them with a coo on your lips. 

“Two o’clock, yeah?” Geto asks. 

“Two o’clock,” you confirm the pick-up time. 

“My partner might be the one picking them up, is that alright?” 

Your heart sinks in your chest for a moment - of course he’s taken. A beautiful man like him - how could he be single? It was wishful thinking on your part anyway. 

Shuddering off the lingering disappointment, you shake your head. “Not at all! What’s their name? I’d like to confirm they’re leaving with the proper person, of course.”

Geto hums, a throaty sound that rushes through your skin despite trying to hold it back. “Satoru Gojo. You can’t miss him - white hair, bright blue eyes. You’ll know him when you see him.” 

He laughs as he finishes, which prompts you to let out a giggle at the description. 

“Alright, I’ll let the other teachers know. Thank you for telling me!” 

Geto nods in response. He sends a last look to the girls before he turns and heads back to his car - his nice car. The solid black Jaguar sits at the curb, the sunlight hitting the paint. Oh god, the thought of him driving that car does horrible things to your mind. 

Shaking your head again, you curse yourself for thinking about a taken man like that. 

Looking down at the girls, you giggle again at their wide eyes looking up at you. 

“Okay! Who wants to watch a Disney movie while we start our next art project?”Their delightful squeals of agreement fill your ears as you head back towards the classroom with their hands clutching yours. 

You think God must be trying to spite you. 

First, they send one of the most attractive men you've ever seen to your classroom, stealing the breath straight from your lungs. Only to then reveal, that he was taken. 

Then, this. 

If Suguru Geto was an Adonis in human form, then this man had to be created by Aphrodite herself. 

He stands leaned against another unreasonably attractive car. His white BMW is parked on the curb, his body leaned against it with a pair of round, black sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s here early, so he waits for a few minutes to pass before he heads up the walkway towards the school. 

The voices of excited children reach his ears as he nears the courtyard. When he peeks around the corner, he’s met with the sight of you. You’re crouched in the center of a pile of toddlers, their bodies leaned over each other in an effort to get closer. There’s a grin on your lips as you animate the different voices from a children’s book in your grasp. Gojo is surprised to see that Nanako is sitting in your lap, her body turned outward so she can see the book you’re reading from. Her back is pressed against your chest, and your hands are wrapped around her waist so she doesn’t fall when she shifts. You’re holding onto the book in her lap, occasionally spinning it around to show pictures to the other students. 

Nanako swings her feet as she listens, a habit Gojo knows she picked up from him. Instead of interrupting like he usually would to announce his presence, Gojo holds back - choosing to instead watch the scene before him a moment longer.

Geto had mentioned the pretty kindergarten teacher that had gone out of her way to make their daughters feel welcome, but Gojo had no idea he’d be this taken aback. The sunlight hits your features in a way that makes Gojo think you look like an angel, gracing the world with your light and kindness.  

He lingers outside the courtyard, waiting for your story to finish before he enters. While he waits, Gojo recognizes a familiar face approaching the same school. 

“Oi, oi - Nanami, Nanami!” Gojo cheers at the sight of his old friend. Nanami surpasses a roll of his eyes, used to his friend’s antics. He had forgotten he’d recommended your school to Gojo a few weeks back, when his elder had mentioned enrolling the girls in kindergarten. 

At the commotion, you raise your head from the book. When you meet the gaze - well, glasses - of the tall, silver-haired at the gate, you’re once again stricken. 

Seriously, where do these gorgeous men keep coming from? It feels like you’ve ripped a page from one of the romance mangas you read, and dropped yourself in as the main character. 

He’s tall, is your first thought, probably taller than Geto. He's less broad, yet still incredibly toned. You can’t help running your eyes from head to toe, taking him in. Gojo isn’t impervious to the look, letting a barely concealed smirk rest on his features. 

Sucking in a short gasp, you realize this must be Satoru Gojo as Geto had mentioned. God really must hate you - throwing these beautiful men at your feet, but not giving you a chance with any of them. Not that you were secure enough in your looks to approach them anyway. 

Yuuji leaps to his feet from his position at your side, racing towards the gate with a cry of “Otousan!” 

"Careful!” You call as Yuuji races towards his father. Nanami crouches in his suit, allowing the pink ball of energy to crash into him. A fond smile covers Nanami’s features, one that often isn’t seen by many. 

You stand from the small chair you’ve been seated on, setting down the book and assuring the kids you’ll be back. Gathering Nanako and Mimiko’s hands, you help guide them towards the gate Yuuji had opened. 

The girls follow wordlessly, already at ease in your presence; a feat that doesn’t go unnoticed by Gojo. 

When you reach the gate, you smile as Yuuji has turned to address the white haired man with a cry of “Gojo-sensei!” 

When Gojo replies with an equally excited “Yuuji-kun!” you start connecting dots. Nanami had mentioned his son taking jujutsu lessons from an old friend. After watching the last Olympics, Yuuji had taken an interest in the sport and Gojo had offered to show the kid the basics. Nanami was reluctant, but ultimately trusted Gojo to take care of his son. 

You hadn’t realized Nanami was close to Gojo nor Geto, and you wonder why he hadn't mentioned them before. 

When you reach the gate with the girls, Gojo shifts his attention from chatting excitedly with Yuuji. You can't see his eyes from behind his glasses, but even so, his gaze has your breath caught in your throat. 

Talking to pretty people is hard. 

“Ahh, you must be my Mochis’ pretty sensei,” Gojo sweetly hums. “Suguru mentioned you.” 

At the thought of either man finding you attractive, heat rises to your cheeks and you awkwardly shift your gaze away. 

“So you must be Gojo, then?” You question with hot skin and now sweaty palms. You hope the girls don’t notice. 

A pleased hum leaves the tall man. “I am indeed.” 

Nanami’s eyes shift from your form to Gojo’s. They narrow and scrutinize Gojo’s lax form and your wobbly knees. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he shifts Yuuji onto his hip. 

“Geto-san mentioned you might be here to pick up the girls.” 

At their mention, the girls release your hands, shifting to move to their father’s side. Gojo audibly coos as he crouches to bring his toddlers into his arms. They each curl into one of his sides, and Nanako emits a “Yuck!” as Gojo presses a wet kiss to each of their cheeks. 

You almost chuckle at the interaction. When Gojo stands, he has each girl on a hip, supporting their weight with a single hand each. You're mesmerized by his muscles, wondering how he could easily lift and carry two toddlers with no struggle. 

Nanami’s cough interrupts your thoughts and you have to blink harshly to break your focus on Gojo’s pecs. 

“Kento-kun,” you address your friend, “You didn’t tell me you know Gojo-san or Geto-san.” 

A hum is heard from the blonde’s chest. “I wasn’t aware they would be enrolling the girls in your class,” he replies easily. 

“Still,” you bump his empty hip with yours, “any friend of yours, is a friend of mine, Kento.”

Gojo watches your interaction with careful eyes, trying to understand your relationship with his former kouhai. Shifting his daughters’ weight on his hips, Gojo leans forward a bit.

“Yeah, Kento-kun~” Gojo mimics, “You didn’t tell me you had such cute friends.”

Nanami isn’t able to resist a roll of his eyes this time. A giggle is heard from you, and Gojo grins at his success. 

“Don’t you have to get back to work, Gojo?” Nanami huffs, eager to end the conversation. 

With a childish pout that causes Nanako and Mimiko to giggle, Gojo whines at Nanami’s rejection. Mimiko reaches out to press her finger against her father’s puffed cheeks, squealing when Gojo turns to nip at it. Nuzzling his nose into Mimiko’s, your heart fills with warmth as you watch father and daughter interact. 

Nanako, clearly jealous, whines and pushes her hands against her father’s cheeks. She pulls Gojo away, rubbing her own forehead against his larger one. Gojo coos at her jealousy, leaving butterfly kisses on his other daughter. 

After a moment, you manage to interrupt once their interaction is finished. “It was nice to meet you, Gojo-san! Thank you for trusting me with your daughters.” You incline your body into a small bow, which Gojo smiles at. You’re so soft and polite; he can see why Suguru has already taken interest. 

“You too, Sweets!” Gojo replies, “Thank you for taking care of them!”

You incline your head again as Gojo turns to leave. Before he gets too far, Nanako and Mimiko lean over his shoulders, looking over at you.

“Bye, Sensei!” They call, waving their hands as they retreat. “See you tomorrow!”

You wave as they disappear into Gojo’s car, giggling at their behavior. Who would have thought the shy girls from that morning would open up so quickly? 

When Gojo finally ducks into the car and it starts pulling away from the curb, Nanami turns to you. His features are completely neutral when he speaks. 

“You want to fuck him, don’t you?”

“Nanami!” 

You quickly cover Yuuji’s ears to shield them from his father’s vulgar language. “Not in front of the kids, Kento!” Yuuji’s confused eyes shift between your lips and his father’s, trying to decipher your words. 

“You were eyeing him like a piece of meat.” Nanami says plainly. 

“I was not!” You defend, hands still covering Yuuji’s ears. You stroke the boy’s hair in an effort to appear nonchalant, but you can’t believe Nanami caught you. 

“I can only imagine how you eye-fucked Geto-san, if that’s how you were looking at Satoru.”

“Nanami - please!” You beg, eyes pleading for your friend to end your misery.

“Alright, alright.” He relents. “We’re not done with this conversation, though.”

“Oh, yes we are.” 

A grunt is all that’s heard from your friend as you finally take your hands off Yuuji’s ears. The boy’s eyes are curious as they travel from his father to you and back. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as you run your fingers across your scalp in an agitated manner. 

A beat of silence passes before Yuuji speaks. 

“Otousan, what does ‘fuck’ mean?” 

Over the next few weeks, you grow closer to both Gojo and Geto. Some days, only one of them is able to drop off and pick up their girls. Others, one picks up and one drops them off. On very rare days, the both of them are waiting at the gate of the courtyard. 

These days are the hardest. 

Not in a bad way, of course. No - they would never be bad. Instead, you find yourself having an incredibly difficult time making eye contact with either of them as they tower over you with gentle smirks. Well - Gojo’s face sported a smirk, while Geto’s eyes crinkled into half moons with a rare, genuine smile. 

They should have been intimidating. In all manners of the word, they should be. Wearing black suits with luxury logos and driving fancy sports cars; Geto’s tattoos are often poking out of the edges of his clothing, and you’re sure Gojo is hiding a few as well. If you had been strangers, just their height would be enough to daunt you. But now that you’d gotten to know them, their towing figures only made obscene thoughts of other uses of such staggering height, race through your head. 

More than once, you’ve caught yourself shaking the thoughts away. It was definitely not appropriate for a teacher to be thinking this of their students’ fathers. Especially fathers who were already in a relationship. 

A relationship that’s quite obvious, you’ve discovered. 

Gojo is not shy with his affection, often draping himself over Geto’s body when the two of them arrive at pick up times. You knew he never hid his affection for their daughters: pressing wet kisses to their cheeks and blowing raspberries on their bellies. But watching Gojo with Geto is different. Gojo’s silly side is still glaringly obvious, with the way he loudly boasts and tugs at Geto’s arms. It's in the softer moments - ones where the two don’t think anyone is watching - Gojo shows a softer side. 

It’s in the glances the two share with each other as they watch the girls parade towards them, with stories about their day and their latest art project in their fists. Gojo is uncharacteristically soft for Geto. 

It’s so hard to tell, going unnoticed by most, but Gojo’s muscles are relaxed around his partner. His actions are so much softer and his movements are easy-going. Genuine smiles seem to fall too easily from his lips when he watches Geto crouch to hoist his girls onto his hips. 

Geto is no different. His shoulders are lax, when you often see them tense on their own. The darker, cold look that often covers his features when he’s alone, is replaced with a gentle, barely-there smile as he watches Gojo and their daughters. You don’t know of the similar look the two share when both their gazes settle on you, but there’s still plenty of time to share. 

Their relationship is one you crave. 

Not necessarily between them - though you’d give an arm and a leg to be between them. It’s their domesticity you long for. Relationships are hard, and you hate ‘the talking stage.’ You want to jump to a well-worn, practiced relationship, and skip the slow conversations and hesitance. 

Though you can’t see his eyes, you know Gojo looks at Geto and their daughters like they’re his world. And you know they are. 

God, what you’d give for a relationship like that. 

Geto is always the first to bend to meet the girls, letting their little bodies crash into his wide chest. He lets out a hearty, genuine laugh as they squirm and rant about the activities they completed during class. Gojo always lets his partner go first, a fond smile on his face as he watches their interaction. When Geto stands, the girls turn to their other father, vibrant smiles transferring to him. 

Gojo coos and squeezes their cheeks, pressing wet kisses on them as the girls squeal out protests. Geto’s soft eyes follow him, a look on his face you long to be the focus of. 

On days like today, when the clouds are gray and rain is falling overhead, you escort the girls to their fathers with an umbrella guarding the three of you. Gojo and Geto are waiting by the car, a similar umbrella shielding the two of them. They’ve taken Geto’s car today, the black material blending in with the gloomy weather. 

When you’re close enough, the two approach. Gojo holds the umbrella out so Geto can bend to grab Nanako and Mimiko. They’re the last to be picked up today, something that has become routine. Geto mentioned having to leave work to grab them from class, so you had offered to stay back and take care of them so the two men could finish work. You weren't sure where either of them worked, as they always played off the question when asked. 

Most days, when class finished, you helped the other students to their parents. You give Yuuji a final tight hug and promise to see him in the morning, before you turn back to the twins. You often turn on a Disney movie, and sing and dance as you wait for their fathers to finish work. By the time the movie ends, it’s usually around their scheduled pick up time. 

Today, you’ve planned to hang back at the classroom and finish up some paperwork before you head back to your own apartment. In a bad break of procrastination, you’d let assignments and projects pile up, and now you had a mountain of papers to file through. 

You’re drawn from your misery to the sound of Geto’s deep voice. 

“Are you headed home soon, Pretty? We can drop you off, if you’d like?”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the nickname. Geto had taken to calling you ‘Pretty,’ after Gojo had spilled that Geto had referred to you as such on the day you first met. You don’t think it means as much to him as it does you, but you relish in the sweetness of the nickname for as long as you can. 

Shaking your head softly, you shift on your slowly damping sneakers. “No, S’alright. I’ve got some more work to finish up before I can head back.”

“We haven’t kept you have we?” Geto questions, worriedly. He’s standing now, a girl on each hip just as Gojo carries them. You’re once again stunned at their strength, watching the muscles in his forearms contract as he shifts Nanako around when she wiggles. 

Rapidly shaking your head, you huff out a denial. “Even if you had, I love spending extra time with these troublemakers.” 

You finish your exclamation with a gentle pinch of Mimiko’s cheek, stepping closer to Geto’s warm body to do so. The dark haired girl giggles, swatting at your hand with the one which isn’t clutched to her Kuromi plush. You pull away with a giggle of your own, playfully grabbing for Mimiko’s hand. Nanako, feeling jealous, lets out a squeal of her own and leans forward in Geto’s arms. 

Geto moves to prevent her from falling, but you’ve already moved to grab the brunette girl. His heart thuds for a moment as he thinks his daughter may tip over. Your body slides in front of hers, letting Nanako’s weight rest against your chest when she finally falls forward. You brush your hand against Geto’s arms as you slide your hand underneath her thighs. Taking Nanako into your arms, with her body clinging to yours, you send a soft glance to Geto. ‘Sorry...’ your eyes apologize. You didn't think she’d pitch herself from her father’s arms to reach you. You shift her weight to rest against you, so you can hold her on your side while your other hand covers both of you with the umbrella. 

Gojo continues to watch the interaction with a soft smile, eyes shifting from his daughters to the silent communication passed between his partner and you. His heart skips a beat at the interaction. The three of you already know each other so well in the span of only a month or two. 

“Nanako-chan,” you hum. “You have to be more careful, I don’t want you to get hurt!” 

You press the girl closer to your chest with the gentle scolding, swaying back and forth on your feet like a mother would. Gojo shares a long glance with Suguru at the motion. There’s something in their eyes you can’t quite decipher, but you know the two of them are sharing an intimate, wordless conversation. 

From your arms, Nanako sticks her tongue out at her twin and giggles when Mimiko whines. 

“Otousan!” Mimiko whines, “I want a hug from Pretty-Sensei too!” You assume the twins picked up the nickname from their long-haired father. 

Another laugh falls from your lips, tossing your head back when Mimiko gently tugs on the loose hair from her father’s half bun. You shift your hip towards Gojo offering the brunette twin to her father, before opening your arms for Mimiko. She yelps in delight, swinging her arms around your neck as she moves into your arms. There’s a warmth slowly filling your heart as she squeezes you tight. It seeps into all the cracks and crevices that you hadn't known were there, and slowly starts pulling at the stitches. Tightening the strings and pulling pieces back together, the love the twins have for you will never be replaced by another. 

Geto leans into Gojo’s side, humming when Gojo presses a kiss to his temple. They watch as you rub your nose against Mimiko’s with a grin. Whispering amongst yourselves, Geto watches Mimiko squeeze her eyes shut into little half moons and pat your cheeks with her hands as she giggles. He deposits Nanako in Gojo’s arms with a fond sigh and brushes Gojo’s hair away from his eyes. 

When the two of you finish giggling, Gojo calls out to his dark-haired daughter, “Alright, Mochi - your sensei has work to finish, so we have to leave now.” 

Mimiko frowns, huffing out a sigh as she turns to her fathers. “It’s alright, Mimiko-chan! We’ll have plenty of fun together tomorrow, remember?” 

The girl nods firmly as her eyes sparkle. She nuzzles into your chest once more, causing another bout of warmth to sweep over you. Then, she wiggles until you set her down onto the concrete beneath you. Mimiko runs on her chubby legs towards Geto, who swoops down once more to pick her up. 

“You’re sure you don’t want a ride, Pretty?” Geto muses as he turns to you once more. 

Gojo hums in agreement. “It can be dangerous walking around here, ‘specially at night. Y’gonna be okay getting home on your own later, Sweets?” 

Another wave of heat rises to your ears and a shiver runs down your spine as both men lower their gazes to you. You almost forget you’re standing in front of your classroom for a moment. 

“S’alright!” You grin. “I’ll probably take a train home in an hour or two, so you don't have to worry.” You’re more than flattered that they worry about you at all. 

Gojo and Geto share a knowing look, an agreement passing between themselves. They know about the kinds of people that roam this area at night. It might be a grade school by day, but all sorts of unsavory people stalk the streets after dusk. 

Geto huffs out a sigh, not so different from his daughter. “Fine - but you have to promise to text one of us when you make it back safe, okay?”

Gojo nods firmly in agreement, another lazy grin on his cheeks. It’s one that you see often, but it never fails to make you smile along with him. The three of you had exchanged numbers a few weeks ago, after you agreed to take care of the girls after hours. Gojo had immediately added you to a group chat that both men periodically spammed you in. You didn’t mind though. It was the first time you’d had close friends since you and Nanami met over twenty years ago. 

Well, you guess your friendship with Nanami is filled with far less tension than the one you have with the boys. You’re sure the tension is one-sided, as Geto and Gojo are already in a committed relationship. Besides, you can’t imagine yourself being the one who breaks them apart. You’re many things - but a home-wrecker is not one of them. 

The attraction and longing you have for either man should remain buried, you had decided. Neither of them needed to know. You’ll move on eventually, you decide. 

Nodding, you agree to text the group chat when you arrive home. With a final firm look from Geto, he turns to head back to the car parked by the curb. It’s still pouring, so you clutch your umbrella tight between your cold fingers. Gojo nudges your side with his hip, the one that’s unoccupied by Nanako. 

“You better text us,” Gojo warns. You chuckle, already used to his light-hearted threats. The first time he’d dropped one, you’d been a little perturbed, but soon after you’d realized he only uses them when he’s concerned for you or the girls. 

“I promise!” You mumble softly, nudging him back with your hip. You only manage to bump his thigh, as his legs are much longer than yours, but the sentiment is the same. 

Gojo shakes his head fondly and hums in agreement. He shifts Nanako higher on his hip and clutches his umbrella in his other hand. Leaning in to look at you over the brim of his sunglasses, you breath catches at the slightest sight of his bright blue eyes. He hasn’t taken them off since the first moment you’ve met, but each glance of his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. You haven’t asked, but you understand it must be more complicated than he’s willing to share. 

“And you’ll text us or Kento-chan if it gets too late?” 

“’Course, Gojo-san,” you agree, huffing playfully as he parents you. 

“I told you already, Sweets.” He playfully remarks. “Call me Satoru.” 

You sigh happily, looking into the dark lenses of his glasses as your heart stutters. 

“Get out of here before Nanako-chan freezes,” you mutter with heat in your cheeks. Gosh, do they love to make you flustered. 

“Alright, alright,” Gojo laughs. He shifts away and begins to follow Geto to their car. His long legs look fantastic in the dark pants that cover his legs, and you find your eyes lingering on his back in the tight dress shirt he wears. 

“We’ll be expecting your text, Sweets!” Gojo calls over his shoulder, throwing you a final glance before he disappears into the dark of Geto’s car. 

Shaking your head with another light chuckle, you bring a hand up to wave them off. In a burst of found confidence, you manage to call out after him before he shuts the door. 

“See you later, Satoru!” 

Suguru’s eyes crinkle into a wide grin as he watches a starry-eyed look fall onto Satoru’s face when he shuts the door. He knows it will take days before Satoru gets over the sound of your sweet voice calling his name. 

When Satoru settles into the passenger seat, Suguru nearly lets out a giggle at the wide-eyed, lovestruck look on his face. A bubbly feeling vibrates through the white-haired man’s form, filling him with incandescent happiness. 

“She called me Satoru,” Gojo mumbles with awe in his voice. At the reminder, Geto does let out a chuckle, rubbing his knuckles against the blushing cheeks of his lover.  

“Yeah, she did.” Geto confirms, a fond smile on his lips. His own heart throbs with a sense of longing. Geto wants to hear his name fall from your honeyed lips too. 

Gojo starts, wonder still in his eyes, but determination in his voice: “She’s going to tear us apart, Suguru.” 

“Oh, absolutely -” Suguru responds. “But you and I both know we’d let her.” 

It’s hours later when you finally finish work. After the sun has disappeared from the sky and the moon shines brightly overhead, you huff a sigh of relief. 

Placing all the work into their marked places, you stretch your back and groan when your spine cracks. It’s begun to ache, from your hunched position over your desk, but you know it would be worse if you’d done this work at home. You’d likely be too drawn to the comfort of your bed, which would only worsen your hunched position as you shuffle through student’s artwork and piles of paperwork. 

When you inspect the front window, you grimace at the darkness that covers the courtyard. The clock at your right states that it’s almost midnight, and you wince in realization. You definitely had not planned to stay this late. 

There's no more trains running at this hour, and you know Kento has long since put both himself and Yuuji to bed. He has to wake up early to drop off Yuuji and make it to work. 

It shouldn’t be a problem, you muse hopefully. Your apartment isn’t that far from campus, anyway. You’ll text the boys when you get back, there’s no need to wake them this late. 

It’s twenty minutes later, you realize just how wrong you’d been. 

You’ve made it about six blocks from the campus when you hear footsteps behind you. They’re still decently far behind, at least thirty yards, but they’re still close enough to hear the sounds of boots meeting concrete. A chill makes its way down your spine, and you clutch your umbrella a little tighter. It’s still raining, so the sounds of the figure are hard to make out under the downpour of the rain. 

It’s three blocks later, you realize they’re following you. When you increase speeds, so do the other set of steps; when you slow, they follow. So you take a few extra turns, hoping you’re just imagining the figure. 

Your heart rate is elevated, the pulse thrumming in both your chest and your head. You can almost hear the beating in your ears. Thoughts are racing as you attempt to string together a plan to get away. Your fingers are numbing from the cold and rain, and they’re beginning to stiffen. 

Throwing a quick glance over your shoulder, you nearly whimper at the size of the man trailing behind you. He’s massive - nearly a foot taller than you and definitely out measures you in strength too. His form is draped in a black hoodie, with the head drawn over to cover his features, and heavy boots cover his feet.

You suck in a breath and try to quicken your pace again. Legs shaking, you shift to turn down another street, hoping to lose him. Rain falls over the umbrella in downpours, drowning out the sounds of the surrounding environment. You grit your teeth with a clenched jaw and hurry your steps. 

It’s a mistake. 

Taking six steps, your eyes fall on the dead end of the alley facing you. Chest sinking, you can feel your heart in your throat. It’s a thick lump you can’t swallow. 

You shake as you turn in an attempt to dash for the alley’s entrance, feet nearly sliding in the slick of the rain.

It’s too late. 

The man is already standing at the entrance, form tall and sinister as he covers the light of the moon. You can’t make out any of his features, but you can nearly see the huff of his breaths against the night air. Your entire being trembles with a sinking fear, and your knees weaken. A sob is about to break from your chest, but you push it down with a heavy gulp. 

Hands trembling, you reach for your bag. Fingers cold and shaking, you pull the strap from your shoulder. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, but you can have whatever’s in the bag,” you shakily cry. Despite trying desperately to hold them back, there’s tears already falling from your eyes. “There’s money in there, just please let me go.” 

The man takes a step towards you, and you shrink back. You stumble a bit, like a scared child, before righting yourself. You kick a crushed beer can as you back step. The sound clatters through the alley and you wince. 

Fuck, you should have texted Gojo and Geto before you’d left. Your dead cell phone sits in your back pocket, the cold metal weighing on both your form and your consciousness. 

You had never imagined things would go this way. Sure, your apartment wasn't in a super friendly area of Tokyo, but you’d never had problems before. The city lights were always too bright and there were always plenty of people meandering the streets. You guess the rain has sheltered the rest of the world for one, terrible moment. 

 The man chuckles - a menacing sound that churns your stomach and presses acid against your throat. Sharp lines cross his features, looking like stitches pressed across his pale skin. You can’t place the marks, but you’re certain you’ve seen them before. 

“I don’t want the money, Girlie,” he grunts. You didn’t think your heart could sink any further. 

“What do you think the Six-Eyes would do?” he muses, “when he finds their precious ‘Sweets,’ dead from their carelessness?” He moves, pulling a silver knife from the pocket of his jacket. It glints against the light of the moon, and you take another fearful step back. 

A beat of recognition passes through your mind at the name, but there’s far too much adrenaline coursing through your body to make any connection. Your eyes haven’t left the knife, scenarios filtering through your conscious mind.  

There’s so few options in which you leave this alley alive. He outweighs you in both strength and size, so you know a fight isn’t an option. Your only chance is to get around him and outrun him. You can only hope you make it to a corner store, where someone could help. 

When he takes a step further, gross breath nearly touching your skin now, you tighten your grip on your bag. The knife is about to press into your skin, and you suppress a sob. 

Then, in a quick burst of panic, you manage to swing the bag with all your strength. The man, having expected the fight, moves to block the ambush. However, you’re already moving. With all your weight, you crush the heel of your foot into the man’s pelvis before he can stop you. 

He grunts, body curling inward for a moment, but you don’t stick around to find out his next move. You’re already running, slipping once against the slick concrete, before you’re sprinting as fast as you can. 

The cold, night air hurts your lungs. You can’t remember the last time you’d run like this, and the ache in your legs says it’s been too long. No matter how harsh the pain in your calves, or the stinging in your chest, you keep pushing. Footsteps slap against the wet pavement as you race down the block.

You’ve long since ditched the umbrella. Instead the rain slaps against your skin in painful droplets. It soaks your hair and your clothes and settles uncomfortably on your skin. It’s cold and wet, and the tears soaking your cheeks blur your vision almost as much as the heavy rain. 

Coughing down a sob, you push yourself a little further as the sounds of a shout and another set of footsteps sound somewhere behind you. You don’t turn to check, but you’re sure the man has given chase. 

Sucking in another breath, you wince at the cramp already forming. You don’t slow down. With your heart in your throat, and a combination of rain and tears staining your cheeks, you keep running. There’s a light ahead, maybe a convenience store is still open at this late hour. 

You can only hope. 

“I’m stepping out, ‘Toru” Suguru mutters. 

It’s too loud, and the flashing lights are giving him a headache. It’s one of their clubs. They’d dropped by on a routine check, showing face and collecting old debts. Eyes are constantly on his form as he and Satoru sift through the crowd. Though neither of them have enjoyed the club scene since having the twins, they both know they have to appear at least once a month to keep an eye on some of the higher ups. They can’t have people thinking they’re slacking off. 

Satoru usually basks in the looks of awe and fear as he and Suguru part the crowd to make their way to the bar. They stand tall above the crowd and exude an aura of power. The flocks of people can’t meet his eyes - or well, the fabric covering them - as he smirks down at them. Satoru only wears the blindfold on mafia business. The glasses he keeps for simpler times; he enjoys using them to tease you. The heat in your cheeks and your inability to meet his barely-there glance brings a surge of pride to Satoru’s chest. He can feel the swell of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, so similar to the ones he gets when Suguru gives him a similar look - the bashfulness is, of course, harder to spot in his features though. 

With tattoos on full display, the Six-Eyes clan mark is apparent on both men. The two powerful mafia leaders have been at the bar for nearly an hour now, and Suguru can’t shake the lingering feeling of anxiety from his head. Anxiously, Suguru rubs the end of the dragon tattoo climbing down his forearm. It stretches up his arm and descends down his shoulder and side, and Suguru can’t help but trace the tail end of the beast. The dark tattoo ends at his wrist, where he thumbs the ink. 

There’s been something nagging at him since he and Satoru picked up the twins earlier that day. 

It’s been hours since he’d tucked the girls in, swaddling their little bodies in blankets and pressing kisses to each of their foreheads. Both men had uttered soft ‘goodnights,’ before getting ready to head out on proper mafia business. Anxiousness settled in both their stomachs as they disappeared out the front door. 

You hadn’t texted them. 

A part of Suguru hopes that you were just too exhausted from work; you’d passed out as soon as you arrived home, so you’d forgotten to text. But he knows he’s wrong. You’d never forgotten to text before - always making a point to wish them goodnight and asking them to hug the twins for you. It’s a notion that usually brings warmth to Suguru’s chest, as he and Satoru share a meaningful smile and a soft kiss. 

When the clock strikes midnight, Suguru decides he’s had enough. 

He mutters to Satoru that he has to step out, before he’s shoving through the crowd of sweaty bodies to reach the door. It’s not difficult, the crowd parts to let him through, too fearful to get in his way. 

Suguru could care less, all that’s on his mind is you. 

Satoru knows his partner is concerned - he knows Suguru too well to miss the signs. Geto’s shoulders are too tense, even more so than they would be when dealing with mafia business. A frown is set on his lips and there’s a subtle crease in his eyebrows from where they’re furrowed. 

There’s a similar weight on his chest too. Satoru has always been much better at hiding his emotions, the eccentric, playboy facade is sometimes all too easy to flash. The grim feelings welling in his chest are covered by an easygoing facade. Satoru prides himself on this ability, it’s fitting for his workplace. Suguru defaults to a cold expression that only Satoru can decipher.

Satoru lets his partner go, watching his back as he maneuvers through the throngs of people. He doesn’t follow - not yet. It’d be suspicious for them both to disappear suddenly. Satoru promises himself ten more minutes before he follows Suguru. The tightness in his chest won’t allow him any longer. 

When Suguru emerges from the club’s exit, the cold of the night air meets his skin. He’s under an overhang, the building shielding him from the rain, but the freezing cold wind still causes goosebumps to settle under his skin. When the wind whips, a few droplets of rain splatter against his body, but he doesn’t mind. 

Suguru has already pulled out his phone, dialing your number for the third time that night. He’d tried twice already, both when he’d left the house a few hours ago. He clutches the phone in his hand, grunting in frustration when he’s immediately sent to voicemail. 

Pulling the phone from his ear, Suguru glares at the screen before hanging up. He tries once more, only to meet the same results before he tugs at his hair in frustration. 

He yanks his hair from the sleek top knot it was pulled into, Suguru allows the strands to cover his face as he squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. Leaning back against the wall, his head falls back and presses against the hard bricks of the building. 

The inside of Suguru’s mind is a mess. There’s too many scenarios racing from the far corners of his mind, some much darker than others. His heart beat picks up a notch, and Suguru can’t remember the last time he’s felt this panic. Sighing deeply through his nose, he takes a few heavy breaths to calm his frantic thoughts. 

He decides he'll wait a few moments for Satoru before he starts looking for you. It can’t be hard to find your place, not with the kinds of information they have access to. They’ll be able to decide their next move once they confirm if you’re at your place. 

Suguru is almost too lost in his thoughts to hear the first shout. 

The rain is deafening, and his mind is far too loud to hear the sound. However, he’s shaken from the fog when the sound of feet slapping against the wet pavement start to get closer. He almost startles, grunting roughly in frustration. He doesn’t have time to deal with some crook coming after his title.  

When he tunes into the sound of approaching footsteps, Suguru confirms two people are approaching. From the panicked, quick steps of the first, Suguru can tell the person is running from something. The second set of steps suggest that the first is being chased. Suguru confirms that the people haven’t seen him yet, before he steps out into the rain. 

In the dark of the midnight hour, Suguru can’t make out any shapes from down the street. He stands under the downpour, letting the shine from a streetlight illuminate his form. Suguru isn’t quite sure why he’s stepped out, he usually wouldn’t interfere in trivial manners such as this. However, he’s in the mood to release some stress, and some lowlife scumbag chasing after a random citizen is a good excuse to rough someone up. 

As the cold of the rain soaks his clothes, Suguru sets his shoulders back. The sound of footsteps gets closer, and he can make out the form of the first person. They’re panicked, Suguru can tell - they’re struggling to continue sprinting. 

When they get a bit closer, Suguru can just barely see the soaked hair of the person’s form. It’s slicked against their forehead, dripping into their eyes and mixing with the tears that are leaking from their eyes. There’s a sob shaking from their lips. It’s shaky and anxious, stuttered through their heaving breaths. 

There’s a moment of stillness for Suguru. The world goes quiet for just a single moment when the person’s form is revealed to his eyes. Their sobbing features and quivering lips strike a chord in Suguru’s heavy chest. Usually soft, gentle features have been distorted into those of panic and fear. The sweet sound of a usually happy voice is twisted into sobs. 

When the moment passes, and the strength of the wind and rain is once again pushing against his skin, Suguru startles. 

The face of the person he’s been aching for is revealed before him. His heart beats against his chest, and Suguru swears he can feel it in his throat. Hands ache to reach out for your form - to soothe the sobs exhaling from your lips and brush the tears away from your skin. Suguru’s whole being throbs at the sight of your face expressing such fear. 

Before Suguru can make a move, your body is crashing into his form. In such panic, under the heavy storm of rain and blur of tears, you hadn’t seen his form under the street light. Your single track mind only wished to put as much space between you and your attacker. Lungs heaving and legs trembling, you collide with the form of the man in front of you. 

There’s a hesitance, part of you wondering if your attacker had back up waiting. When your body rebounds from the stoic muscle of the form in front of you, you blubber. Tears still spilling over your cheeks and panting, there’s a moment where you don’t recognize him. Your brain is mush - only focused on escaping and surviving. 

You sob louder, choking on a whimper when hands reach for your form. Shaking your head rapidly, you flinch from the arms outstretched before you, convinced it's another of the attacker’s friends. Suguru’s chest aches. He never wants to see that look again. 

“M’sorry- M’so sorry,” you rapidly mumble. The words barely make sense as they’re rushed from your lips but you can’t slow down. 

“Hey, hey-” a soothing voice rumbles. It’s familiar, the tone and deep gravel of the voice, but in your panic, there’s not enough working memory for your brain to recognize it. 

“S’alright, Pretty Girl” the man continues, hands still outstretched and aching to soothe you. “Hey, s’me - it’s Suguru. Look at me, Pretty” 

Suguru’s voice barely conceals a shake as your fearful body trembles. He's aching to comfort you - to take you into his arms and take on your burdens for his own. He’s only ever ached like this for one other, but it feels the same. An anxious bubble swells in his stomach, and he fears you won’t recognize him in your panic. 

At the humming of his voice, you’re slowly brought from the haze. The more conscious part of your brain emerges from an anxious fog as it begins to remember the man before you. Shakily bringing your eyes upwards, you’re barely able to make out the sleek black hair that could only belong to one person. His mouth is set in a frown, but it’s twisted in something that looks like anguish. 

It’s a look you haven’t seen on Suguru Geto. 

“That’s it- look at me, Pretty Girl. You’re doing so good.” 

Clutching your arms across your chest and body tucked inward to protect itself, you choke out a few syllables, “Su- Suguru?” 

Geto’s heart throbs. 

The first time you said his first name shouldn’t have been like this. Not when it’s filled with fear, your form drenched in rain and tears and clothes askew. He longs for a different setting, something warm and soft. Suguru longs to hear the sound of his name falling from your lips in that honeyed manner in which you speak to your friends. 

“Yeah, s’me - it’s Suguru,” he hums. “What’s happened, Darling? You alright?” 

There’s not enough time to stumble through an explanation. The sound of rapid approaching footsteps is enough to startle you; your attacker is finally catching up. You knew a kick to the groin wouldn’t keep him down for long, but you’d certainly hoped to put more distance between yourselves. 

Acting purely on instinct, you immediately begin to move. The fear is still a sickening lump in your throat and it’s far too large to swallow. Ducking behind Suguru’s large form, you bury yourself in his back. His broad shoulders and muscular frame cover you almost completely. Your hands clutch the soaked material of his shirt, burying your face in his back in an attempt to hide yourself from the oncoming attacker. Even in the onslaught of rain, he still smells like Suguru - like warmth and comfort. 

You squeeze your eyes as tightly as possible and grip Geto’s shirt in your fists until your knuckles begin to lose blood flow. Still shaking, you press yourself as close to Geto’s form - to safety - as you can. Your heart thunders in your chest, but Geto’s presence seems to soothe it, if only a fraction. 

Suguru isn’t sure he can take much more of this. 

With your frame completely pressed against his, Suguru’s heart jumps into his throat. God, does he wish more than anything to savor the press of your skin against his. Even under the rain and through the panic, Suguru’s mind is filled with thoughts of your body pressed against his and Satoru’s in hundreds of other scenarios. 

However, he doesn’t have time for such thoughts. 

Not with the approaching set of footsteps rapidly nearing your position. 

Suguru squares his shoulders, setting them back to straighten his form and cover your form as best he can. One of his hands swings back, resting against your hip to press you against him. It’s a protective gesture - one that clearly shows he’s guarding you. 

When the third form settles at the scene, there’s a snarl on his lips. He’s not panting as heavily as you had been, but it’s clear he’s sprinted to catch up. The man is still clutching his knife. It’s pressed tightly between his fingers, ready to strike. 

“Geto Suguru,” the man growls. 

Suguru doesn’t move. 

His hand is still at your waist, but his form is tight and ready to pounce. At the slightest movement, Suguru is ready to lunge forward and rid you both of the attacker. 

“You know me?” It’s less of a question than a statement. Most people know of Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru. Well - those who are aware of the mafia, anyway. The two crime lords are the strongest mafia leaders in Japan: the Sorcerer and the Six Eyes. 

“Of course I know you,” the man spits. “But it’s not you I want.” 

He gestures roughly with his knife to the form pressed against Geto’s body. You shudder, and press down another sob with great difficulty. 

“Bossman wants the girl.”

“He can’t have her.” Geto is quick to answer. His voice is sharp and firm. There is no room for debate. Suguru’s eyes drift over the markings on the man’s barely visible skin and presses you closer. He identifies the assailant’s affiliation 

“Tell Mahito that this girl is clan property now - no one goes near her, unless they want to deal with me-” 

“Or me.” 

The normally cooing voice of Satoru Gojo is now laden with anger and coated with ice. It’s sharp, uncharacteristic of Gojo. You can’t bring yourself to move from your stiff position at Geto’s back, but since your mind has begun to clear, it recognizes the voice of your white haired friend. 

Satoru lets the door to the club fall shut behind him with a heavy slam. Stepping out into the rain, Satoru’s form radiates power. Even the rain seems to be apprehensive, barely touching his body as he strides to stand beside his partner. He stands tall, shoulder to shoulder with Suguru as the two glare down at the man who’d hunted you. 

Gojo doesn’t allow the twinge of his heart to show on his features as he takes in your petrified form. He can see the white-knuckled grip you have on Geto’s shirt and the rapid rising and falling of your chest. The tears muddled on your cheeks blend with the rain, and Gojo almost wants to grab you to hide you in his own chest. Though, he knows you’re safe in Suguru’s hands. Geto would never let anything happen to you, Satoru knows. It’s the same way he knows he himself would never let anything touch you. 

Satoru presses close to Suguru, allowing his form to overlap yours and cover the rest of your body from the prying eyes that attempt to pierce your skin. You can only shift a hand to clutch Satoru’s shirt in your other hand in thanks. You haven’t calmed from the oncoming panic attack, but knowing you’re safe buried behind the two brings you some comfort. 

The man before you has to suppress a shudder at the sight of both clan heads. He barely stood a chance against just one, but now understands there’s little to no chance of his survival. Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto are fiercely protective of the ones they love. While your relationship may not be defined, it’s clear the two care for you beyond words. 

The attacker shifts on his feet, ready to make a break for it, in the hopes of avoiding the oncoming fight. His cowardice is glaringly evident, even after his earlier threats. 

“Satoru,” Geto mumbles, eyes hard and no emotion flickering behind them. “What happens when you disregard orders from the Six Eyes?” 

His question may be addressed to Satoru, but they’re clearly directed to the now nervous form of the man in front of them. He shifts again, getting ready to lunge, but Satoru is quicker. 

He’s faster than lightning, already at the man’s side and pressing his arm behind his back to incapacitate the attacker. You didn’t even feel him move, let alone pry your grip from his clothing. Satoru is nothing but gentle with you. 

The man cries out in pain as Satoru muscles him to his knees. 

“Why don’t you show this thug the strength of the Gojo clan?” 

“With pleasure.” 

A sinister smirk drags a corner of Satoru’s lips upwards, but you can’t see it. At the first grunt of pain from your pursuer, Geto has shifted. He turns his body so that you’re pressed into his chest rather than his back. You barely notice the change, too focused on controlling your breaths. You count the seconds on each inhale, hold the breath, then count again as you exhale. Hyper-focusing on your breathing brings a sense of calm to your otherwise panicked mind. 

Geto moves the hand that grasps your waist to surround your body at the hips. He tugs softly, pressing you tightly to his chest. His other hand rests at the back of your head, gently rubbing against your hair. It's incredibly soothing. Swaying back and forth slightly, Geto keeps you pressed against him so that you have no choice but to focus on him rather than Satoru - who is dragging away the form of your attacker. Suguru softly hums, the sound reverberating in his chest and surrounding your senses. It drowns out the muffled cries from behind him. 

Satoru spares a glance over his shoulder, allowing his eyes to soften slightly at the sight of the two of you pressed together. He longs to take care of this quickly so he can wrap his arms around the two of you. Turning quickly, Satoru continues to drag the struggling form of Mahito’s henchmen towards a dark alley. 

“Let’s finish this quickly,” Satoru spits. “I have business to take care of.” 

The next few moments don't really register in your head. Suguru had tried to lead you away from the scene, but your legs had quickly given out beneath you. Tired from escaping and adrenaline quickly fading, you finally allowed exhaustion to catch up. Geto had been quick to slip an arm under your knees and hoist you up. Shoulders flexing, Suguru clearly had enough muscle mass to carry anyone he wanted. 

In his arms, Suguru helped you practice breathing until the pattern was more controlled. 

He mumbled soft reassurances against your ear as he carried you towards his car. He and Satoru had driven to the club, knowing neither of them would drink that evening. 

Before he could set you in the backseat, you vaguely recall protesting. Not wanting to ruin the interior of his car with your soaked form, you had shaken your head and stammered soft objections. Geto had chuckled under his breath, and fished out a towel from the trunk after setting you on your feet to rest against the car. His hands were kind and gentle as they helped you dry to the best of your abilities. 

When he’d tried to place you in the backseat, you shook your head rapidly once more and clutched him tighter to your form. The fear from running for your life had yet to wear off, and the thought of Suguru leaving you left you more panicked than before. 

Suguru gently shushed you as he rocked the two of you back and forth again. Your face was buried in his chest again, and Suguru longed to see your pretty eyes. 

“S’okay, I’ve got you.” 

The phrase is mumbled over and over again with Suguru’s lips pressed against your forehead. They’re soft and warm, and you wish you were in a clearer state of mind so you could savor the feeling. 

“Nobody can hurt you with us here,” Suguru sighs. “Promise.” 

With adrenaline quickly fading, you’re on the verge of passing out. However, you continue to pry your eyelids back open each time they drift shut. You’re waiting for Satoru to return. Your heavy head won’t let you rest until you know he's safe too. 

Seconds later, your eyes finally fall shut as a second set of hands gently rub the skin of your arm. You almost flinch, but you know Geto wouldn’t have let just anyone touch you.

Gojo’s hands are surprisingly softer than Geto’s. His long fingers press softly to the bare skin of your forearms, where your clothes have gone askew in your flight. Gojo gently readjusts them, though you’re far past the point of caring. 

Muttering is heard above your head, though the sounds are muffled to your slowly weakening form. 

“-Wouldn’t rest until you came back-” is heard, followed by “-doesn’t want to be by herself.” 

Gojo nods softly. Geto fixes him with a look before he begins to shift you into Satoru’s arms. You whine in vague protest, and Gojo is the one to hush you this time. His leaner body presses against your skin and his warmth seeps into your cold skin. When you nuzzle closer with a mumble, Satoru’s heart clenches. 

“Come on, Sweetheart - in we go.” 

Gojo shuffles you into the backseat of Geto’s car before following after you. When you’re buckled into the middle seat with Satoru still pressed against you, you finally allow yourself to pass out in exhaustion. 

Satoru clutches your body to his, shifting to allow your head to press into his neck rather than his shoulder. He finally unwraps the blindfold from his eyes, allowing the bright blue irises to sweep over your body without the hindrance of the mask. Scanning for injuries, Satoru huffs a sigh of relief when he confirms you have no physical wounds. 

Nodding to Suguru, the key is slid into the ignition and the car finally pulls out of its parking spot. He skillfully maneuvers the car in the dark of the night, with one hand grasping the steering wheel and the other pressed against his forehead. He rubs his temple, gently pushing away the ache that rang in his skull. 

Suguru hasn’t been this stressed in a while. 

Locking eyes with Satoru’s ocean blue one’s in the rearview mirror, Suguru gives him a knowing look. 

“We should take her back to our place.” It’s spoken quietly, uncharacteristic of Satoru when not in the presence of his lover. “Kento says she lives in a shit-hole apartment up North - she won’t be safe there tonight.” 

Suguru agrees. He’d already been heading in that direction anyway. He takes a smooth left towards the direction of their house, hands sliding against the leather of the steering wheel. There’s a long beat of silence in the interior of the car. Suguru can almost hear the faint sound of your breaths escaping your lips. He’s thankful that they’ve slowed to a reasonable pace.

At a stoplight, Suguru twists in his seat. Looking over his shoulder, Suguru is met with the sight of Satoru’s soft eyes locked on your form. The white-haired man is delicately stroking the hair back from your eyes, his other hand grasped tightly in yours. You’d fallen asleep pressed into his chest, body slanted sideways in the seat. Satoru’s eyes shine with worry, but they don’t leave your face. 

He’s too busy scanning each of your features, memorizing the innocent, gentle that overtakes your face in your sleep. Satoru gently rubs the tear tracks from your cheeks, feeling the softness of the skin against his fingertips. He sighs, and looks up to meet his lover’s eyes. 

“I don’t ever want to see that look again.” Suguru mumbles. He’s referencing the scared, panicked look you'd given him when you’d bumped into him. Suguru thinks his heart may have stopped beating when he’d heard the sobs choke from your lungs. 

Satoru nods. His sky blue eyes drop back to your face. Satoru can’t lie - he too, had been anxious at the sight of your panic. He promises himself, in that moment, to never let that same look befall your features. 

“S’alright, Suguru.” Satoru mutters back, lifting a hand to gently thumb the wrinkle between Suguru’s brows. His fingers slide from his partner’s forehead down his cheek, where Satoru softly runs the same thumb over Suguru’s lips. 

“We’ve got her now,” Satoru clutches you tighter to his chest, watching the rise and fall of your chest. “Never gonna’ let anyone hurt her again.”

Suguru’s still damp hair falls into his eyes as he nods. Pressing a kiss to Satoru’s thumb, Suguru runs his fingers over your cheek and turns back to face the dashboard. He shifts the car back into gear, and continues driving the three of you back to their place. 

Satoru’s right, Suguru decides. There’s nothing in this world or the next that could stop the two clan heads from protecting their family. Suguru gently huffs and shakes his head - Family, huh? They certainly hoped you would be soon. 

When you wake the next morning, it’s in soft silken sheets and the scent of waffles and fresh coffee in the air. You vaguely recall a memory of Satoru gently hushing you as he lifted your body from Suguru’s car. He'd carried you into their expensive, but surprisingly, small home. Despite their wealth, the two had agreed that they didn't need an extravagant mansion to raise their daughters - it wouldn’t feel like a home. 

The house the two men resided in was a quaint, two-story cottage style house. The girls had fallen in love with it the first time the real estate agent had shown them the property. They'd run around the yard, pointing out flowers and various insects to their fathers. Mimiko giggled as her sister pressed a daisy behind her ear, mumbling about how pretty her Nee-san was. Suguru had nearly handed over the downpayment that day. 

Shuffling up the stairs, the two men were quiet so they wouldn't wake the twins. Suguru had closed his eyes and changed your wet clothes. He couldn’t, in good consciousness, let you sleep in the sopping wet material. When he’d finished, Satoru had picked you back up and delicately placed you in the guest bed. It was next door to their room, but both men still cast a longing glance over their shoulder as they left the room. 

It felt wrong to leave your side after such an event. Suguru craved to remain by your side, to press his body into yours and tuck his hands into Satoru’s hair. He wanted you pressed between them - in capacity, shape or form. Just hearing the beat of your heart would comfort him enough to allow him to sleep. 

Satoru had gently tugged Suguru away. Though he felt the same, he knew your relationship wasn’t quite there yet. They could properly ask you soon. 

In the early hours of the morning, you awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the beams of sun drifting in from the window. It’d taken a moment to register your surroundings, not used to the sounds of nature outside your apartment. It was usually the sounds of shouts from your upstairs neighbors that woke you in the morning, so the change of pace was nice. 

Drifting your attention from the soft spring breeze filtering in from the window, your eyes landed on the door. From just outside, there was the sound of rustling, and then three voices quietly mumbling. The voices are familiar, and you’re not worried. 

Everything about the room you’re in feels comforting. The scent of both Satoru and Suguru are in the air. You’re swaddled in a shirt a size too big, but you can’t decide whose it is. It smells vaguely like them both, so it very well could be a shared shirt between the two. The sheets are smooth under your skin, and the sun is warm on your cheeks. 

Despite the events from the night before, you don’t think you’ve ever slept so soundly. 

The sound of voices is heard again, and it sounds like excitement from two, before there’s a gentle command of “No, wait!” 

Then, your door is being pried open. 

The gentle pitter-patter sounds of two sets of feet scurry across the hardwood floors before two bodies are throwing themselves onto your bed. 

“Sensei!” 

The two girls squeal in happiness, launching their little bodies into your arms. You can't help the bright grin that lifts your cheeks. Their wide-eyed, toothy smiles are too much for your heart, and you lift your arms to scoop their bodies into your chest. You squeeze them tight, refilling your chest with a warmth that had been missing after last night. 

Mimiko giggles and nuzzles herself closer, her sister following suit. They burrow themselves into the sheets, clinging tightly to your form and smelling of fresh strawberries and pastries. Your eyes are shut as you chuckle alongside the girls and hug their little bodies to you. 

“I’m so sorry!” It’s Satoru who apologizes. His voice sounds worried, but there's still an underlying hint of joy. “Suguru and I couldn’t hold them back after they heard you spent the night.” 

You sigh, but it’s a happy sound. A breath of fresh air fills your lungs and you giggle again. Nanako tucks herself under your chin, her tiny arms wrapped around your chest. Mimiko lays on your other side in a much similar position. 

“It’s alright, Satoru.” 

The words are spoken in a breathy laugh. You haven't looked up to face him yet, too busy situating yourself and the girls into a more comfortable position. 

“Papa made us wait an hour!” Nanako nearly whines. She wiggles a bit alongside her words, and you tickle her sides to hear her giggle again. 

“Did he? How cruel of him,” you play along. 

Satoru huffs an exaggerated sigh, and you turn your gaze up to meet him, ready to playfully argue for the girls. 

The words die on your lips as you take him in. 

Satoru isn’t wearing his sunglasses. An ocean of clear blue and turquoise meets  your eyes, and you find yourself losing your train of thought. The swirling depths of Satoru’s eyes are unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. They glimmer with mischief, but it’s easily overlooked. The crystal clear and vibrant cyan blends gorgeously with his white hair, and you find yourself stuttering. 

“I- you-” you try to form the words on the tip of your tongue. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

It’s not the words you had intended to speak, and the cacophony of giggles that fall from the twin’s mouth causes heat to rise to your face. You turn away, trying to hide your embarrassment by burying your forehead into Mimiko's hair. 

Satoru can’t lie - his heart did skip a beat at the exclamation. He hadn’t been expecting the compliment, and the genuine awe in your voice makes his stomach twist with butterflies. A warmth fills his chest and Satoru nearly keens at the praise. 

“Sensei thinks Papa is pretty,” Nanako giggles. Her cheeks are pink from laughter, and she pokes your cheek. Mimiko’s laugh blends with her sister, and she looks back at her father, who is barely concealing his own pink cheeks. You delicately pinch the girl’s side, but it only causes another peel of laughter to escape. 

Grinning, Satoru locks eyes with you again when you manage to pull them from where they're buried. He wiggles his eyebrows, a move you’ve seen him pull before. 

You roll your eyes, flopping your head back against the fluff of the pillows. Shifting the girls in your arms, you sit up against the headboard of the bed. From behind Satoru, Suguru peeks into the room. He has an apron over his sweats, and his hair is pulled back into a bun with a few strands framing his face. The combination of both men in their comfort clothes and smiles on their cheeks nearly causes your skin to warm again. 

“What’s going on in here?” Suguru questions. A grin is on his lips as he sets his chin on Satoru’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his partner's waist. He watches his daughters cling onto you, a warmth in his chest. 

“Sensei called Papa beautiful!” Mimiko chimes helpfully, mimicking her sister’s earlier words. She lifts her head from your neck to sing the words, matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, did she?” The words are teasing. Suguru’s dark eyes are now locked on you. You try to avoid his gaze, embarrassment rushing through your form and a nervous excitement in your gut. Choosing instead to look at the scenery outside the window, you grab a silk pillow from behind you. Without looking you toss it in the vague direction of the men, huffing a laugh when an indignant ‘Hey!’ follows. 

Despite your embarrassment, Suguru can tell you’re feeling better. Last night had been incredibly stressful, but he's glad the twins are able to melt some of the stress away. The knowledge of his daughters bringing you genuine happiness causes his grip to tighten on Satoru’s waist. The white-haired man turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to Suguru’s forehead. 

Both men share an understanding. The emotions swirling between them are similar and shared between the two. They watch with warm eyes and happy grins as you tickle MImiko and blow raspberries to Nanako’s cheeks as they squeal. 

Satoru rests his hands over Satoru’s and sighs happily. They could get used to this. 

And get used to it, they do. 

Satoru and Suguru manage to pull the girls from you, and they lead the three of you down to breakfast. They explain that they hadn’t felt comfortable leaving you alone, and had brought you back to their place for the night. Satoru expresses that they want you to stay until you felt safe enough to return to your own apartment. Suguru agrees with his partner with a firm nod of his head. Feeling thankful, you agree, under the condition that you return to your place to grab clothes and other necessities. 

Both men nod, and later that afternoon, you’re picking up a week’s worth of clothes and other necessities from your run-down apartment. Suguru doesn’t allow you to carry your bags, shifting them to his own arms as Satoru leads you back to their car. 

A week passes. Suguru drops you and the twins off at the school in the mornings and Satoru picks the three of you up in the evenings. You help them prepare meals, setting the table and chopping veggies. Satoru presses his chest against your back when you have Mimiko set on your hip. The girl giggles at her father, and pushes his face away when he asks for a kiss. She whines when he blows a raspberry in her neck, and you have to hide your reddening ears from the white-haired man when his cheek brushes yours. 

Then another week passes too. The twins have begun asking you to read their bedtime story on most nights, and Gojo and Geto press against each other in the doorway to watch. There’s love in their eyes as you mimic different characters’ voices and animate sounds from their storybooks. 

Soon, nearly a month has gone by, and you have yet to return to your apartment. It’s not as though you hadn’t thought about it. You had asked Suguru a week back, but he'd simply given you a warm look and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

He murmured a gentle, “Don’t worry about it, Pretty.” Then, he nudged your hip in the direction of the twins, who awaited your presence at their tea party. 

The more time passed, the more their house began to feel like a home of your own. 

Of course, Satoru had explained the ‘intricacies’ of their workplace a few weeks back. You’d suspected something similar, with the way your attacker had shrunk back against their figures. Their very existence nearly exuded an aura of something darker and a little dangerous. 

However, despite the revelation, you couldn't find it within yourself to be scared. 

Neither Satoru, nor Suguru, had ever made a motion to hurt you. Their gazes were always filled with warmth and their touches were nothing but gentle. All the time you'd spent alongside either man and their daughters felt like an eternity of sunshine and cloudless skies. 

Besides, there was something about the way that Suguru had hid your form behind his own. He'd held your body behind his shoulders, hand grasping your waist protectively. The way that Satoru had joined his partner’s side, standing shoulder to shoulder with him to hide your form, lingered in your mind. Suguru’s hushed words of comfort and praise still touched the edges of your subconscious. The reminder of feeling their hands on your skin as they rocked you back and forth, made goosebumps raise the hairs of your skin. 

Nothing about either man had ever sparked fear in your mind. They’d only ever treated you with care and protectiveness. It was a reminder that made you so, incandescently happy. 

By the end of the next week, the five of you had established a routine around the house. Part of you hoped that the dreamlike situation never ended. It had begun with a feeling of fear, but you found yourself thanking the moment for what followed after. 

Geto had dropped the three of you off at the school courtyard that morning, pressing kisses to each of his daughter’s cheeks. They’d giggled, before grasping each other’s hands and taking off towards the classroom. Turning to you, Suguru pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead as well, a motion that both he and Satoru had been repeating lately. 

The motion is not missed by Nanami, who sends you a look. We’ll talk about this later, it says. You roll your eyes and wave him away with a smile. Nanami huffs and nearly rolls his own eyes as he sets Yuuji down next to Megumi. Toji is just turning around to walk back to his car, sending you a two-fingered wave on his way. You’re used to his laid-back demeanor, so you simply wave him off with a smile.

Suguru clutches your waist a little tighter, but it goes unnoticed by you. Both he and Satoru have been touchy lately, and you had no problem indulging in their soft caresses and gestures. Though you felt a little guilty, seeing as they were in a committed relationship, neither man seemed upset with his partner’s affection. You allowed them to continue, after ensuring it was alright with both men. 

“I’ll be back before three,” he whispers into your hairline. You hum, bumping Suguru with your hip to motion him back towards the car. 

“See you, Sugar!”  The nickname causes a huffed laugh to exhale against your head. The word had slipped from your mouth by accident when you’d been baking with the girls two weeks ago. You’d meant to ask him for the sugar, but instead his name and the ingredient had both come out in a tangled mess. The twins had giggled endlessly, and the nickname had somehow stuck. 

Suguru leaves your side with a final squeeze of your hip, heading back to his car. He’s not excited for the hours of meetings he and Satoru have to sit through, but the thought of your new little family allows him to push through the stress. 

The two men had decided they would finally ask you to join their family that evening. Over hushed whispers passed between the two in the early hours of the morning, Satoru had decided that it was finally time. You got along so well with their daughters, never treating them poorly and consistently providing equal attention and love. Despite not being yours, you treated the girls like your own. Both Satoru and Suguru don’t think they’ll ever be able to find a person like you ever again. 

It was time to ask you to be theirs. 

The thought makes Suguru’s stomach twist with anxious excitement. As he pulls out of his parking space, all that’s on his mind is the thought of you and his little family. 

Satoru and Suguru have sat through five hours of meeting when the phone call comes. The mindless droning of clan members and shipment info pass through the room, boring both men. When a break is finally called, Satoru pulls out his phone, only to be met with the sight of six missed calls from your phone. 

Satoru sucks in a breath, heart racing. It’s half past two, so the other students will have already left the school, but you shouldn’t be expecting them until closer to three. His phone had been on silent, not wanting to be interrupted or distracted during their meetings. The six calls had all occurred within the last fifteen minutes, and Satoru is partially relieved it hasn't been too long. 

Mind racing with possibilities, Satoru tilts the phone so Suguru can see the screen. His long-haired lover furrows his brow, chest seizing at the notifications. The two make eye-contact - well, a semblance of it due to Satoru’s blindfold. 

Before either can speak, the phone begins to ring again. Suguru is immediately standing, excusing both himself and Satoru. They make their way out into the hall as Satoru answers the call. 

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Satoru starts. “You alright? What’s goin’ on?”

The phone is set to speaker, allowing Suguru to listen. For a moment, there’s no answer. Only silence is heard from the other side of the line. Then, a tiny sob is heard. 

Mimiko. 

Suguru nearly crumpled at the sound of his daughter’s cry. Knees weak, he leans into Satoru, who rests his own weight against his partner. Both men have nearly racing pulses, eyes wide and frantic as they look from each other back to the phone. 

“Mochi?” Satoru murmurs. 

Another beat of silence passes. 

Then, a tiny voice is heard. “Papa?” 

Nanako is the one who speaks. It’s dreadfully quiet, the word nearly whined through a suppressed sob. 

“Baby, S’going on?” Suguru rushes, clutching Satoru’s arm. His mind is racing at the possibility of his daughters being hurt. The dark-haired man wonders where you are, his breath catching at the thought of any of you in danger. 

The sounds of tiny sobs erupt from both girls, only worsening their fathers’ worry. The phone muffles the sound, but shouts are heard in the background. Suguru tenses, fist clenching as he and Satoru look at each other. There’s only a second passing between them before they're both moving. 

Satoru is immediately moving, taking long strides as he and Suguru push through the halls towards the parking garage. Both men are panting, chests tight with worry as they make their way to the car. It feels neither of them can move fast enough as they pull open the doors to Satoru’s car. He’s the faster of the two drivers, capable of maneuvering them through tight races and escapes. 

Satoru passes the phone to Suguru as a sharp cry is heard from one of their daughters. 

Chest seizing in fear, Suguru calls out. “Nanako? Mimiko? Are you alright? What’s happening?”

The next words to fall from Nanako’s mouth have Satoru pressing the gas pedal to the floor. Suguru’s chest feels as though it will collapse as he clutches the phone tight between his fingers. 

“S’Mama! The bad men are trying to hurt Mama!” 

At half past two, you see them. 

Three men in dark suits began approaching the classroom after you waved the last student goodbye. Satoru had wanted you of the danger that came with being around them, but at the time, you’d fixed him with a look. 

“I don’t care, Toru,” you’d smiled. “Nothing could tear me away from this family now.” 

Satoru had grinned, pulling you into his chest and giddily murmuring happy phrases that had you pinching his sides. He'd pressed a kiss to your head, laughing when the twins called for attention too. 

You had suspected they’d return, though you never thought they’d come to your workplace. Especially not with Mimiko and Nanako still around. 

With a tense exhalation of air, you quickly pivoted on your feet. Heading for the twins, you shut and locked the door behind you in a rush. Pressing a chair under the knob of the door, you pulled down the curtains to all the windows in the room. The twins looked up from the television that was playing a superhero movie. 

Turning to them, you quickly ushered them both under your desk in the corner of the room. It was small but they could both fit. From this area, neither of their little bodies could be seen since the desk was pressed between a shelf and the wall, surrounded by all but one side. They’d be well hidden here. 

“What’s going on?” Nanako wondered as you ushered the two into the small space. Their eyes were worried, little hands clutching each other and yours. Hushing them gently, you pressed your unlocked phone into their little hands. Gently brushing the hair away from their cheeks, you gently coaxed them under the desk.

“It’s alright, honey. There’s some bad men here that Sensei has to send away. I need you to stay under here and call your fathers, can you do that for me?”

The girls had exchanged an already teary-eyed look. “But what about Mommy?” Mimiko whimpered. 

The title sent a pang through your chest, one that you didn't have time to address. You were running out of time and you could not - would not - let the twins get hurt. 

“Mommy’s gonna’ be fine - okay, Angel? Trust Mommy.” 

The little girls had shakily nodded their heads, crawling to the back of the depths with a press of a kiss to both their little foreheads. They clung to each other as you maneuvered the chair to hide their bodies further from sight. 

“Call Papa, okay? Daddy can fix everything, just make sure to keep quiet, alright?” 

You sent the girls a final worried look, trying to hide the fear with courage. You didn't want the twins to think you were scared. It would only further their panic. You could only rely on Satoru and Suguru to pick up the phone, and hope that they could make it here soon. The three tall men have already made it to the door, and the lock won't hold for much longer based on the sounds of them wailing on the handle. 

Whatever happens now, you only know you have to keep the twins safe. They'd called you Mom, after all. 

Satoru thinks he's broken twelve different laws by the time the car screeches to a stop outside the school courtyard. 

They're the furthest thing from his mind. Suguru has already slammed the door to the car, feet carrying him across the courtyard in long strides. Satoru follows quickly after. Chests tight and anxiety spinning in their stomachs, Suguru feels as though he'd lied before. When he thought he’d never been more scared to see the fear on your face - he’d been wrong. 

It’s this moment, the one where he bursts through the door to three men hovering over you. There's blood on your cheek and a dark bruise is already forming on your cheek. The sounds of his daughters sobbing can be heard from behind the desk, but your body blocks his view. Despite the men’s torment, your figure is leaned over the tiny entryway to the desk, blocking them from getting any closer to the twins. 

Your hands are over your head, protecting your face from being struck again. Curled protectively over the desk, Suguru knows you’re protecting his daughters, even despite the peril it puts your own safety in. 

It’s at this moment, thatSuguru’s breath leaves his lungs. The anxiety in his stomach swells further into panic and he feels as though he may vomit. Chest heaving, Suguru kicks a desk out of his way, 

“Get the fuck away from my family!” 

It’s spit with a venom that even Satoru has seldom heard. 

The white-haired man was not far behind Suguru. He rushes into the doorway not long after his lover, eyes taking in the sight even with the blindfold. His mouth is dry and his legs nearly shake. Your frail, trembling form fills his vision and the sounds of the sobs of his daughters fill his ears. An overwhelming anger fills his body, but Satoru can't tear his eyes from your figure. 

Hunched over the desk, body beat, you still stand in the way. Refusing to budge, even despite the taunts and strikes, you shield the twins from the sight of the men. Satoru is filled with a protective rage he's sure is similar to your own. The urge to protect both you and his daughters has Satoru moving before Suguru has even finished spitting the command. 

Pushing a desk out of his way, Satoru immediately reaches for the goon closest to him. Pulling the man away, Gojo kicks his form with clenched teeth. He strikes the man with enough force to send him flying back into the other desks, crashing into the wood with a grunt. 

Satoru has already moved to grab the second man before the attackers can even think. He isn’t blessed with the Six Eyes for nothing. 

“How dare you,” he growls as he pushes the man to the floor beneath him. Pushing the man’s skull to the ground with his foot, Satoru nearly sounds like a feral animal. 

“How dare you go after them? Our lover? Our daughters?” He presses the man harder into the floor, not concerned by the third goon, who’s already being forced to the floor by an angry Suguru. 

Tossing the man towards the first, Suguru quickly turns back to you. His expression quickly changes to one of concern, of guilt and love and all kinds of unexpressed feelings. With a softened expression, Suguru quickly and gently grasps your hands, pulling them over your ears, motioning for his daughters to do the same. 

“Keep your ears covered, Pretty.” He fixes the girls with the same, soft command. “Even when the sounds stop, keep them covered, alright? Satoru and I will come get you when it's over.”

Then, he's softly pushing you under the desk with the twins and turning back to help a fuming Satoru drag the three men out of the classroom. His expression immediately drops back into one of fury. 

The two strongest clan leaders in Japan have rats to exterminate. 

When your aching body drops to the floor in front of the girls, they immediately bury themselves in your sides. Snot rubs into your shirt, but you could hardly care since your own tears had already stained the material. Clutching your ears tight, you curl over the girls, unable to protect them any other way. 

“Mommy!” The muffled cry falls from the lips of both girls. They sob into your chest, little bodies trembling in fear. Little hushes fall from your lips as you do your best to soothe them despite their covered ears. 

“S’alright, Mommy’s here now. I won’t let them hurt you.” The words are muffled to your own ears, and you hope Nanako and Mimiko can hear them. “S’gonna be fine, Angels. Daddies’ are here now - we’re gonna be just fine.” 

You aren't quite sure how long you sit there, with your hands pressed over your ears and body curled protectively over the twins. Time no longer seems to exist. You can’t count your racing breaths anymore as you fight to keep your heart in control as is. All you can do is repeat the same gentle phrases to the girls, hoping to comfort them as best you can. 

When Satoru and Suguru finally finish disposing of the ‘rats’, Suguru pulls out his phone to call one of the other loyal clan members. It’s a quick and rushed phone call. Suguru is too desperate to go back to your shaking form and his crying daughters. He barely manages to spit out the address and a vague explanation, before he’s hanging up and racing back in after Satoru.

The white-haired man is already at your side, gently prying your form away from the girls. He’s whispering gentle reassurances, eyes welling with tears at your beaten form and rustled hair. There’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks, but you're still clutching to the girls protectively. Suguru’s chest fills with relief and warmth and he strides over. 

Satoru has already pulled you against his chest, after gently reassuring you it was just him. 

“Oh, thank god.” He exhales in a sob of his own. He’s pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, to your cheek - to every inch of skin he can reach. They're soft and careful of the bruise on your cheek, but Satoru mumbles his worries into your skin. 

Suguru is pulling the girls into his chest, crying into their little bodies as they call out for him. His heart is still racing, but the relief of seeing his daughters and you safe, is slowly beginning to calm to the rapid pulse. 

“Was s’worried,” Suguru cries. It’s raw, choked out through tears, and when you turn to see his expression, you’re brought to more tears of your own. His face is twisted into pain, tears falling down from his dark eyes. Both hands and pressing his sobbing daughters into his chest, but he pulls one hand away to reach out for you. 

Satoru pushes you gently into his lover’s embrace, following quickly after. You press to the twins’ backs, Satoru pressed to your own in a sandwich of swirling emotions. Suguru’s hand holds your cheek gently, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. Tears drip onto your skin, but there’s so many salty tear tracks on your skin from you, the girls and Satoru that they don't phase you. 

“My babies-” Satoru mumbles in a voice uncharacteristically weak. He’s got you pushed against the girls, his hands clutching your body and Suguru, so the five of you are all pressed together. 

“Papa!” Nanako cries. Mimiko copies her, a wail of her own following. “We were so scared, Papa!” 

Satoru shushes them both with a soft hum, pressing kisses to them both and brushing tears away from their eyes when they look up at him. The little girls snuggle closer to the both of you, little hands clutching clothing in tight fists.

“I thought the bad men were going to hurt Mama!” Nanako whimpers, burying her teary face into your neck. You clutch her closer with a still racing heart, so happy to be safe with the four of them. 

“S’alright now,” Suguru mumbles. “Papa and I will never let anything happen to you - ever again.” 

He brushes a stand of ruffled hair away from your face, eyes filling with the utmost love as he looks into your own. Satoru presses his nose to your scalp, inhaling your scent and clutching you tight in his other hand. 

“We’re gonna keep you and Mama safe,” Satoru whispers, sending his lover another aching look. Suguru returns it with equal love resonating behind his eyes. 

“I promise,” he finishes. 

Suguru shifts his eyes to yours, an unreadable look of gratitude and love in the irises. There's emotion in them you can’t quite decipher, but you don't need to. 

Because Suguru has already lunged forward and is capturing your lips with his own. 

The kiss is wet with both your tears, salt on both your lips, but it’s undeniably the best kiss you've ever had. Suguru expresses his fears, his worries, his love and a thousand other emotions in the gentle press of his lips against yours. You gasp out a short exhale of surprise, before you return the kiss tenfold. It's rushed, but the both of you are too worried and filled with too much relief to care. 

When Suguru pulls away, Satoru is pulling your head to the side and capturing your lips with his own. His kiss is equally as fervent, expressing his love and gratitude for your safety with the push and pull of his soft lips against your own. He's pulled off his blindfold, and his hands are pressed against your cheeks, softly stroking the skin beneath his fingers. Satoru’s kiss is equally as breathtaking as Suguru’s. 

After you separate, Suguru is grasping Satoru and kissing him the same. They share a kiss of overwhelming passion and love, grateful to have made it in time to save their family. 

A disgusted voice breaks the silence. 

“Ew, Papa. No! That’s gross, stop kissing each other!”

The three of you exhale gentle chuckles of relief, turning to face Nanako and Mimiko who are both looking up at you. Then, the three of you are scattering the girls’ cheeks in kisses, pressing their little bodies against yours. Their little squeals fill the room, and both Satoru and Suguru have never been more grateful for Nanami’s kindergarten recommendation. 

Weeks later, you wake in silken sheets again, pressed between Satoru and Suguru’s chests. They’re shirtless, as are you. Suguru’s tattoos stand out against the softness of his skin, and you find yourself tracing the ink down the muscles of his chest. The first time you’d done so, Satoru had made a suggestive comment and pressed your form between their chests. The electricity under your skin zinged at their touch, heating the space between your thighs and scrambling your brain. 

You marvel at the strength that lies under his skin, and press a soft kiss to the tattoo just above his heart. A lone constellation sits in the empty space on his left pectoral muscle. 

Cassiopeia. 

Five bright stars intertwining with each other for eternity. Just the five of them together, lingering next to one another in the vast emptiness of space. Five stars to match five people. The constellation was chosen by Satoru, who sports the same tattoo over the skin of his heart as well. 

Pressed to your back, the white haired man groans at the feeling of waking too early in the morning. He presses his shirtless form to yours, the heat of his skin melding with yours. The reminder of the less-than-appropriate events of the previous night sent heat to your cheeks and a dizzy haze to linger in your thoughts. 

Being pressed between Satoru and Suguru is just as extraordinary as you’d thought. 

Satoru’s lips leave a gentle kiss at the nape of your neck. His hands clutch your hips tighter, drawing you back into his chest to spoon you tighter. From in front of you, Suguru shuffles closer; his muscular chest pressing against the soft skin of your own bare chest. If he were awake, the motion would grant you a racy smirk. 

In his sleep, Suguru hums. Lips plump, you press a kiss to his mouth before snuggling back under his chin. At the touch, Suguru furrows his brows. 

“Go back t’sleep, Pretty. S’too early.” 

You hum in agreement, soothing the wrinkle of his brows and accepting the delicate kiss he places on your lips before Suguru is asleep again. 

Pulling your phone from where it was buried between the three of you, you pull back open your messaging app. There’s a single text waiting unread. It’s from Kento, and you nearly choke as you read over the few words. 

“I knew you wanted to fuck them.” 

bonus: 

thug: do you have any last words? 

reader: hold on, let me ask my partners

thug: ... 

thug: that isn’t how this works - I’m going to kill you 

reader, on the phone: suguru and satoru said no 

a/n: wowowow this fic is a monster! I’m so excited I finally got it finished though! It’s not super proofread, but I was just too excited to release it hehe :3 I hope y’all enjoyed it!

[mayullla]

Hello:) I'm the one who asked if you watch spy x family I'm actually having a brainrot for the step brothers au where reader punch a kid in the school like Anya did to Damian but idk if you're already on that part of the manga since you said you read a bit of it

Hii! Sorry I don't remember I forgot to mention it has been like 2 or 3 years since I last read the manga T-T So I actually don't remember much but i still hope you like this!

Okay, this wasn't actually supposed to happen. Not necessarily, Zhongli thought to himself as he looked at the message that he got from your teacher reading it repeatedly.

You punched your classmate.

He dropped his yellow mug to the floor. Coffee leaking from the side of his mouth as if it choose to replace the supposed blood.

Did Zhongli make a mistake while taking care of you? He thought he did a good job if not decent, anything he technically lacked his other younger brother filled in the gaps. You are a sweet child, a lovely young sister of his that is always cheerfully laughing and telling him your stories.

He didn't think you could hurt a fly, sure you could be curious about the butterflies in the garden at the back of the residence and try to catch them but to actually hurt them? Zhongli thought that his many stories and teachings would help you not to become violent.

So what in teyvat happened that you choose to willing punch one of your classmates in the face?

Zhongli sighed as he went to your kindergarten, when he finally arrived at the teacher's office and saw you at the chair looking down unable to look at him, he can't help but worry a little.

Apparently, talking to the teacher, you punched one of the kids who were talking behind your back and when Zhongli tried to ask for more details, the teacher was unable to answer as the kids were all quiet choosing not to say anything.

When he looked at you, you would shake your head refusing to explain yourself. Zhongli sighed and when he asked where the kid you punch was the boy already left with his parents thankfully the parents were understanding, saying 'that kids will be kids and that it happens.'

When Zhongli took you back to his car he looked at you and asked again if you were alright. He didn't start the car but instead gave his full attention to you as you continued to look away from him yet he could see resentment in your eyes.

The eldest brother was patient with you, gold eyes listening as you struggled to say the words without crying yet could only sound like you were stuttering.

You told him that they were talking behind your back and that you didn't have a family and that the so call brothers you told them about and they saw were all fake and that you and they aren't a real family

You were in tears by the end of your explanation fulling expecting to still be blamed for punching someone yet all...

What you got was an uncomfortable hug as you and Zhongli were still in the car, the break made him unable to properly hug you. Yet it still made you cry all the more.

Zhongli was touched by what you have done Sure, he would like you to take a different approach to handle things, but he can't help but feel a little happy that you cared about your step brothers and think of them as a family. How could he discipline you like that?

Maybe later, you and he would have a talk where he would teach the best course of action depending on the situation.

It would help a lot not only for you but also for his poor heart.

But for now why don't you and Zhongli head to a restaurant and eat, he had heard that you liked ramen last time from Kazuha when he took you out for a little brother and sister time.

[tinydestinybear]

Dad!Harry - headcanon

A/N: This one’s a fluffy headcanon from Harry Styles Birthday Week’22 and i hope it makes your day better! There is a change in schedule addressed here! please don’t forget to leave feedback! 💘💘

let me tell you harry as a dad is something else

lots of cuddles!!!

during the first few months, it’s comforting for him to have his child strapped against his chest, close to him so that’s he able to feel their warmth and just make sure his little bub’s okay

he’s also the type of dad who’s scared of his kids growing up too fast

is very protective when it comes to his kid’s safety and is also very emotionally involved

he’ll say he’s resistant to his child’s charms but all it takes is a “but daddy why not 🥺” and he’s like “yeah…why not?”

which is why he CANNOT resist his child's little pout and just gives in

but he also has a natural authoritative voice which would make his kids know their boundaries and respect him

and he still teaches them that if they want something, they would have to work hard for it

harry definitely goes crazy while dressing his babies in costumes and it doesn’t help that you love to do so too

i can also see him wearing matching outfits with his baby, especially cute pyjamas 🥺

buys cute toys and outfits which remind him of his babies  

likes to sing lullabies when he puts them to bed and loves them snuggled close to his side

i just imagined this and it’s the cutest thing ever asdfghjkl

you’ll see him running around with his little one on his shoulders, just them laughing around and having fun in their own world

also thinks of the most weird yet fun games to play with his babies

the dad that acts all tough but cries when his child leaves for kindergarten for the first time

he’s also never afraid to show how proud he is of his kids - school events, competitions, graduation- you name it and he’s proud of them always and you’d really see him cheering the loudest for them

he’d also play his new songs to them first and value their takes on it, i think they’d bond really well over their love for music

will always listen to how the kids are feeling so that he can act as a companion to them

loves travelling with his family

there’s no doubt he’d have his camera around with him and there would be at least 2-3 albums dedicated to his baby’s cute/silly photos

i can also see him embarrass them when older by showing their baby photos and telling their most embarrassing stories to their partners

rip their dignity

also when his kid gets older and starts dating, he’s nervous to meet the person they’re dating like more scared than the actual date 💀

is 100% the dad who’s a friend to their gf/bf but still a force to be received with when needed

DID I MENTION HE’S A SOFTIE DAD AT THE END OF THE DAY

i know for a fact that when harry starts cracking dad jokes, he thinks it’s the funniest thing ever, but his kids literally look at him like 😐 when he does it

so many dad jokes, you’d think he’s practising ever since he was himself born

harry is a big family man and I think that’s the most adorable thing ever

and that’s it!! this was a little long so please please let me know your favourite ones! i’d really appreciate if you guys could reblog x 

[actias-android]

All the community introduction/correcting information posts I've ever seen on Tumblr that yet to explain what Otherkin is to outsiders, bar none, fuck it up right out the gate. When you're explaining what Otherkin is to exclusively-humans, you don't start with the definition.

Seriously. Nobody cares about the definition except the people who stare into it all day already. The definition of a thing is not what the thing is. What the thing is, is much more important than a technically correct but hopelessly dry description of the thing.

(This applies to all sorts of nonhuman stuff, by the way, but the specific definition of Otherkin and to a lesser extent therianthropy are usually what get brought up, so that's what I'm talking about.)

Leaning on the definition as it's usually given has such an emphasis on it being involuntary and super serious that it comes across as, "MOoOoOoM, IT'S NOT A PHASE, THIS IS JUST HOW I AM," which nobody will listen to. Like, think about it. We know it sounds ridiculous. That's why we as a whole go so hard into trying to stress that it is serious and we aren't just playing around, but it's got the opposite effect than we think.

We need to start a lot simpler and a lot smaller, and with a lot less emotional baggage. I've explained it to plenty of people, including those who 'kin for fun' and literally believed that people who actually believe they aren't exclusively-human were mentally ill, and had zero pushback and quite a lot of, "Oh, that makes sense actually. I think I get it now."

Try it this way:

Well, plenty of people believe in souls, right? And that's not considered weird. I don't think it's weirder to believe that if souls exist, and that if you could make someone's soul or even their mind visible, that they wouldn't all look the same. I think mine would look like [your identity here].

Bet you a dollar that just about anybody can accept that as an explanation.

"But it glosses over all the differences between [label] and [other label]!" Believe me when I say outsiders don't know or care about those differences, and they'll only make it more confusing. When you're teaching absolutely new information to someone with no paradigm to even accept the information yet, you start as small as possible, and with reference to what they already do understand.

You don't teach a little child to count by starting with algebra. You teach them with your fingers, and their toys and foods. You show them two apples, and one apple, and three apples, and that you can put one apple with two apples and make three apples. Once they've understood that, then you can introduce the basics of algebra: if you have two apples, but you wanted three apples, how many more do you need to get? And then you transition to numbers as a concept, and they can now understand it. You've given them the foundational knowledge in a way they can assimilate it.

You also cannot teach someone what being other-than-fully-human is like by starting far into the weeds with explanations that read like excuses written for respectability politics debates. You teach them with their own beliefs, and slowly introduce the differences as they're able to grasp it. Some of it's just not going to make sense to an outsider no matter how you couch it, and that's okay. They only need to get the basics enough to understand that it's not a mental illness thing, and that it's not threatening anyone.

Give it a try. Phrasing is absolutely everything. I wasn't a teacher for terribly long (that's a whole other story from a lifetime ago) but I've briefly taught kindergarten off and on, and for a few years I taught junior high and special ed, and if I learned anything, it's that introducing new concepts without a foundation isn't just confusing, it's alienating. People do not like information they cannot integrate into their own understanding. You have to start at a point where they already are if you want them to follow you further afield, and you have to give them the stepping stones to make that path, and the long-standing 'educational post' style does neither of these things.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

🥰 Can we have some Disabled Reader x Jason? Maybe where Damian says something snide about the Reader, not knowing the reader was there, and Jason scolds him, and then notices the reader, and goes to them to comfort them.

"Hey," Dick asked looking around, "Has anyone seen Y/N?"

"Just listen for her," Damian snorted, imitating your gait for a moment with a sneer.

"Dami-" Dick started, eyes widening slightly when you walk around the corner.

"The kids in my kindergarten class did it better," you say mildly, blinking for a moment.

"That's gross," Jason said, scowling, "If you-"

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," you sigh, handing Dick the file you'd been on your way to bring him before turning to walk back out the door you'd come through.

"Are you gonna eat lunch?" Dick called, taking the file and kicking Damian's chair where he sat pouting.

But you don't turn. You don't want them to fuss over you. You don't want to be held up as a way for them to teach Damian human manners. And you don't want to hear people extoll the virtues of your hard work in an effort to soothe your presumably wounded pride. It's exhausting sometimes, the expectation to be some kind of inspiration porn for the family- and Gotham. Instead, you whistle softly and take Cola's leash from your bag.

Today is a good pain day. Today, you're steady enough to be without your cane or walker. The air is getting warm and soft. There are violets springing up. And Cola is excited- but. Like a good boy. The best boy. He stays near your side, no idea where he's going but thrilled to be getting there.

At the gate, heavy, jogging footsteps make you pause.

"Hey," Jason said, carding fingers through his air, "want some company?

"Sure," you hum, taking a mental deep breath, "But. I don't want to talk about Damian."

Jason nodded slowly and took a spot on your other side, closer to the street, "Fair but- Dick and Tim are taping him to a wall as we speak."

"Why?" you laugh, "Because he was rude?"

"I mean-"

You wave his words away with an impetuous gesture and huff a sigh, "I grew up disabled in a bad neighborhood," you remind him. "I'm fine."

He considered that for a moment and nodded, smiling a little. "Where are we going?"

"It's a no plans just vibes kind of day," you shrug, turning your face to the breeze and letting it tease its way through your hair.

"Pup cup?" Jason suggested, following after you, adjusting his pace to match yours.

At the words 'pup cup' Cola's ears perk up and you rub his head, "Whatcha think, handsome? Huh?" And a surprisingly high-pitched yip and a twirl make you giggle. "Let's go, then."

[burberryharold]

When Flowers Bloom

In which Harry is a little too fond of his daughter's kindergarten teacher, Daisy. 

Word count: 11k

Warnings: just some angst, mentions of divorce, dad!harry (yes, he's a warning, for your ovaries mostly), a shit ton of fluff that might make you sick, just two painfully oblivious adults, an a curse word or two. (Not my best writing in general lol, and sorry about any typos I missed!)

A/N: here’s the promised single dad florist!harry fluff! I loved writing this story and I hope you guys enjoy reading it! And happy Valentine’s Day, especially if you’re single AF like me because who said we can’t enjoy February 14th on our own? Treat yourself and remember that you are much loved <3 Happy reading, my loves! 

From the moment she was born, Daisy’s life was planned down to every detail. 

When she’s four, she will go to kindergarten, because her parents wanted her in school as soon as possible. 

When she’s six, she will go to the private school that her parents’ friends send their own kids to, so she can have the best education possible. 

When she graduates sixth form, she will go to university and study to become a lawyer, just like her parents. 

Daisy loved her parents and she always wanted to make them proud of her, just like everyone else, but ever since she was a kid, she just wished they would let her do what she wanted to do. 

Everything was planned for Daisy and she had no control over her own life.

Until she had the courage to finally take charge and pursue her own goals, not anyone else’s. 

Constantly being surrounded by a bunch of rambunctious 5 year olds is what some may consider a nightmare, but Daisy absolutely loved her job.

Being a kindergarten teacher wasn’t what she had originally planned for herself. When asked about what she wanted to be when she grew up, a teacher was never the answer. 

But life is unpredictable and works in mysterious ways. 

What started as a studious journey to become a lawyer ended in her quitting law school and pursuing a career in teaching instead. Her close friend, Camila, had once asked her if she could volunteer for a weekend at the school she works in, and Daisy being Daisy, of course said yes (she’d never deny a friend in need). That day, she had the opportunity to interact with a few kids, helping them write letters and count to ten, and she felt as if she was right where she belonged; that’s when she realised that this is what she was meant to do, not stand in a courtroom just because that’s what her parents had planned for her. 

That day, Daisy decided she would quit law school and her parents’ plans for her and follow her heart instead, and now, four years later, she still has no regrets over making the switch. She’s never felt happier or more fulfilled in life. 

Watching her kids’ little faces smile in triumph whenever they managed to write a word correctly (however wonky) or colour properly within the lines was a feeling unmatched by no other. 

She was particularly attached to one specific kid in her class this year, Lily. Although she would never admit it out loud, for Daisy takes her job very seriously and doesn’t want to play favourites, the little green-eyed girl has a special place in her heart. 

And Daisy may or may not have a tiny little crush on Lily’s handsome father. 

It’s not her fault that the man is the sweetest person she’d ever encountered. When she met him for the first time, just a couple of weeks before school started because he wanted to know who was going to be teaching his daughter (bless him), Daisy was instantly charmed.

When he had smiled at her and introduced himself with a simple “Hi, I’m Harry, Lily Styles’ dad,” she knew she was a goner. 

He was a little shy but had an array of questions about her teaching methods and how she deals with the kids in class, and he listened carefully to her response to every one of her worries.

(That wasn’t anything new to Daisy, she was used to parents interrogating her and she had no qualms with it, she completely understood where they were coming from and tried her best to ease their worries.) 

By the time he was done, Daisy could sense that he was more relaxed and she was mesmerised by the easy-going smile tugging at his lips.

(Daisy knew she was in deep when she laughed at his terrible dad jokes.) 

But how could she possibly resist the gorgeous man who owned a flower shop and had the cutest little angel? 

“Miss Daisy,” a little voice pulls her out of her daydreams, “can you help me colour?” 

“Of course, sweetface, what do you want me to colour?” 

The small chair (clearly not meant for people her size) is as uncomfortable as ever, but Daisy still leans forward and examines the array of crayons scattered. She didn’t want to leave Lily all on her own and so she joined her at the table located in the middle of the room after the last kid left; for the past half hour, she has sat there and watched the sweet girl draw on some paper, exchanging a few words here and there. It seems like she has moved on to one of the many colouring books Daisy keeps in the class, small hand holding a pink crayon. 

Suffice to say, Daisy has never seen a pink penguin before. But she imagines it would be very cute.

“Could you do the tree over there, please?” Lily asks in a polite manner, flashing her a toothy smile. 

As if she could tell her no. 

(Also, why is there a bloody tree next to the penguin? Last time she checked, there were no trees in Antarctica.)

Daisy pouts, looking back at the girl, “It looks difficult, but I will try.”

Lily giggles at her teacher’s silliness, handing her a light green crayon and pointing to the tree in question, “No, it’s not, Miss Daisy, you can do it, I believe in you.”

Would it really be that big of a crime if she just kept this child all too herself?

No, she can’t do that to Harry. 

“Thank you, sweetface,” Daisy extends a hand and boops Lily’s nose, making her giggle again, “Gonna come to you whenever I need a boost of confidence, eh?”

She almost laughs out loud at the way Lily just shrugs and goes back to her pink penguin. Children are hilarious and it makes her job much more entertaining. 

Daisy wished adults didn’t take themselves too seriously and were more like her kids. 

Harry seems like a fun person to be around, she thinks to herself before breathing out a sigh. 

Too busy daydreaming about her student’s father as she filled in the leaves of the tree, she didn’t notice that said father had arrived at her classroom until he gently knocked on the door and a small voice screamed “Daddy!” 

Harry smiled and dropped to his knees, shouting with equal excitement, “My little flower!” as she ran into his open arms. 

Daisy couldn’t help but smile at the sight, lips stretching further upon hearing him mumble “Missed you” into his daughter’s hair. 

It is clear as day just how much this man adores daughter, and that only made Daisy fall deeper. 

She couldn’t help but think back to the day she first met Lily. When Daisy had introduced herself to the little girl tightly grasping the leg of her father’s pants, looking up at her with wide, curious eyes, Lily suddenly brightened, like a flower coming to full bloom, “You’re a flower like me! I’m Lily and my dad says I’m the prettiest flower!” 

Daisy swears she almost melted into a puddle. 

Harry lifted his head and he sent her an apologetic smile as their eyes connected, “I’m so sorry for keeping you late, couldn’t get out of work faster and no one else could pick her up.”

Waving him off, Daisy stood up and started to pack up Lily’s things, “No worries at all, I don’t mind spending extra time with this little monkey.” She winked at Lily, who was still wrapped up in her father’s embrace, causing her to giggle. 

“Hope she didn’t cause any trouble,” he stood up, playfully narrowing his eyes at his child, “Flower, were you good for Miss Daisy?” 

“Yes, Daddy, I promise.” Lily nodded her head, laying a hand over her heart and Daisy almost cooed at the girl. She was too damn cute. 

Harry grinned at his daughter and kissed her head, “Okay, flower, ready to go home then?” Once against, Lily nodded her head and wiggled in his arms at the prospect of finally going home. 

“Say bye to Miss Daisy then before we go,” the second he put her down on the ground, Lily ran towards her teacher and wrapped her little arms around her legs. 

Kneeling on the ground, Daisy gives the precious girl a proper hug, “Alright, bye bye, sweetface.” She then feels a sloppy kiss on her cheek that made her chuckle, “Bye, Miss Daisy!” 

After perching her small sparkly backpack on his shoulder, Harry grabbed Lily’s hand before they made their way out the door. “Have a good weekend, Daisy.” Harry flashed her a grin, the one that always made her heart flutter, before he was dragged away by the 5 year-old. 

“Good weekend!” Lily exclaimed, echoing her father’s words and shooting her a small wave over her shoulder. 

“Have a good weekend, you two!” Daisy yelled after them, amusement lacing her tone at the way Harry almost tripped because Lily was running too fast whilst still their hands were still attached. 

Yeah, she was in big trouble. 

Harry loves his job, but he always looks forward to the weekends. 

Saturdays are his lazy days; he’s off from work and he would sleep in until he feels Lily climb into his bed and jump on him, yelling “It’s time to wake up, Daddy!” Sometimes she would end up landing on his back, making him wheeze in pain (Harry thinks he has the body of an 80 year-old grandpa) before he turns and tickles the little monster, basking in the sound of her joyful laughter in the morning. Although he would rather not have his body stepped on by his mini-human, Harry cherishes moments like these because he knows that one day he won’t get to have them anymore; he dreads the days when his daughter would stop thinking he’s cool and would rather spend her time with other people instead (he’s all too familiar with that stage of teenage years, he’s been there). 

So for as long as he can, he’ll take any moment he can spend with her, potential broken bones included. 

After cuddling for a few minutes, because Harry is always in need for a cuddle with his little flower, they would do their morning routine side by side in the bathroom, which would often include making silly faces at each other in the mirror and dancing while brushing their teeth, then go on about making breakfast. 

Lily loves being in the kitchen with her father and so Harry makes sure to let her help with cooking or baking in any way. He’d let her crack the eggs (which she’s gotten very good at) or stir the pancake batter, just simple tasks that are easy to do and won’t risk her getting hurt. 

Of course, because his daughter is a little troublemaker, sometimes making breakfast would turn into a mini food fight. She would throw a small fistful of flour at him, or smudge his cheek with chocolate syrup. Once, she smashed an egg on top of his head when she was sitting on the counter, breaking the one rule they had for their kitchen shenanigans, which was to not mess up anyone’s hair, and Harry had never experienced a bigger betrayal (that was a lie, the absence of his ex wife is a clear indication, but Harry doesn’t like to think about that much.) 

The rest of the day would be spent watching some tv, playing whatever game Lily fancies at the time, and if the weather allows it, they would venture out to the park and the playground close to their house for a couple of hours until Lily is tired and ready to go home. 

With their bellies full after supper, the father and daughter would retreat to the couch and cuddle, watching a movie or two until Lily’s bedtime. He would carry the sleepy child to the bathroom so she can brush her teeth or else “they would rot, little flower, and no one wants rotten teeth!” as he always tells her. 

Sometimes she would be awake enough for him to read her a story, or she falls asleep instantly. In either case, Harry stays beside her on the bed, watching her gently drift away to the land of dreams and silently thank the God above for giving him Lily. 

So Harry loves Saturdays because he gets to spend the whole day with his baby with no interruptions whatsoever. 

But he also loves Sundays, for multiple reasons. 

One, he and Lily go down to his flower shop, Lily’s, in the morning, with the sun shining brightly down on them and the birds chirping, singing their daily song. He loves the walk from their flat to the shop, because Lily would always swing their conjoined hands and sing quietly to herself, occasionally smiling up at him when he sings along, and Harry’s heart feels at peace. 

He hopes to have hundreds of their Sunday walks to the shop over the years. 

Two, he loved being in the shop Sunday morning when there aren’t many customers yet. His shop has grown quite popular over the last few years, with many young people coming and taking an abundance of aesthetic pictures for their Instagram and hanging out in the little designated cafe area (he wanted his customers to be able to sit and have some tea and a pastry while they waited for their orders). He doesn’t mind it because even though they can be loud and tend to spend more time on their phones than taking in the beauty of the flowers, it is technically free promo for him, so he leaves them be. 

After Lily and his family, his shop is his top priority. He hadn’t always wanted to be a florist and open his own shop, but he was interested in flowers and plants ever since he was young. 

Harry wasn’t sure what he wanted to study at uni, but he eventually went with a business degree. Upon graduation, he knew he didn’t want to continue working in a company and be stuck in an office, and when his mum suggested that he open up and run his own business, something clicked in his mind and he instantly knew what to do. 

So after he and Eileen got married, right after graduation, he started planning and had everything ready to open a flower shop. But then his ex wife fell pregnant and Harry decided to postpone the whole project and focus on his family first.

They hadn’t decided on a name for their baby girl before the birth, but Harry wanted to name her after a flower and Eileen loved the idea. The moment he laid eyes on his little flower, he knew she was his Lily Anne.  

(He thinks naming the shop Lily’s was very clever of him; he’s a big fan of wordplay. Besides, Lilies was just too cliché for a floral shop.) 

The idea for the flower shop remained on the back burner until they finalised their divorce, then Harry took the risk and quit his job to start his own business, all while taking care of a newborn. 

Of course he had plenty of help from his family, particularly his mother, and his close friends, but it was still an exhausting process to the point that Harry thought of giving up once or twice. 

But he has no regrets for the way his life turned out. Yes, he no longer has a wife and his daughter doesn’t have someone that she can call “Mum”, but they have each other and a place that they both love dearly (Lily is obsessed with flowers, just like him) and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Like his mother always reminds him, life works in mysterious ways. 

Three, and he’s slightly embarrassed about this particular reason, Daisy makes an appearance at exactly 10:30 AM every other Sunday. It’s probably inappropriate and he should absolutely not feel this way about his daughter’s kindergarten teacher, but Harry can’t deny the pull he feels towards Daisy Atkins. 

Harry has been on very few dates since Lily was born, and on every single one of them, he never really felt interested in the woman sitting across the table. He keeps telling himself it’s because they just don’t fit, that they’re the wrong women for him, but Harry knows that the primary reason for his disinterest and apprehension towards dating in general is his fear of heartbreak. 

He’s been through it once and he doesn’t want to experience it again, especially since someone else is involved in the equation, and Harry will always put Lily first. She’s his entire world and he’d be damned if he let another woman abandon or hurt them. 

That’s why he always has his guard up. Sure, Harry sometimes flirts with people, he’s always had a flirty nature, but it never got past that, and he’s not sure if it ever will. 

His mother has encouraged him many times to try and be in a serious relationship, insisting that he can’t stay lonely for the rest of his life. “Harry, you deserve to be loved, and I know there is someone out there for you, you just have to be open to that idea.”

For the longest time, Harry didn’t listen to his mother. He was certain that there isn’t a woman out there that wouldn’t break his heart and he refused to let himself be that vulnerable ever again. (The last time he did, he thought he was living happily with his wife, the love of his life, until the rug was pulled out from under him and she left him and Lily like they never mattered to her. Like he never mattered or meant anything to her.)

But that started to change when Lily went to school. The prospect of sending his daughter out there into the world without him was terrifying to Harry. He knew that it was the best thing to do for Lily, so she could interact with other kids her age and learn in a different environment, but Harry selfishly wanted to keep her by his side and all to himself. 

So being the anxious parent he is, he went to the school a couple of weeks before kindergarten started to meet his daughter’s teacher. He told his mother that if he saw any red flags or didn’t like even the smallest of details, he would immediately pull Lily out of the school. 

They both knew he was looking for any excuse to keep Lily with him, so Anne insisted she would accompany him and assess things herself. “I know what to look for Harry, I did raise you and Gemma, didn’t I?” 

Originally, he wanted to meet this Miss Atkins much earlier on, but apparently she was on a holiday for a month abroad and couldn’t be present, so Harry settled for a meeting before school was in session. 

He remembers that day clearly. He and Anne walked into what would be his daughter’s classroom and were immediately met with warm eyes and a kind smile. “Hello! You must be Mr. Styles, I’m Daisy Atkins.” 

When Harry was younger, he thought of himself as quite the hopeless romantic (not so much now, heartbreak tends to do that to a person), but he didn’t really believe in love at first sight. 

But when he locked eyes with her, he almost did. 

He still doesn’t think love at first sight is a thing (because how could you possibly fall for someone that you don’t even know?) but what he does know for certain is that he felt something that day, deep down in his heart, that told him that this woman was special. 

And that feeling was right, because Daisy Atkins is indeed special. 

Harry can’t say that he’s in love, his heart is too damaged to fall that hard that fast, but he knows he has very strong feelings towards his daughter’s teacher, and he’s never felt that way towards anyone before (at least not after Eileen). 

But he’s not sure what to do about it. 

Plus, he’s only known her for a few months, it’s only January, and quite frankly, he doesn’t know much about Daisy.

All he knows is that she’s 28 like him, she’s passionate about teaching, is a single child, her mother passed away two years ago, loves flowers, and tends to bake way too much for her own good. “Harry, one day I’m gonna die from stuffing myself with too many muffins, I swear to you!” 

But most importantly, she’s single. He has Lily to thank for knowing that, because she’s the one that asked Daisy, quite bluntly, if she’s lonely like her father. Harry had gasped at his daughter’s words, ignoring the cheeky smile on her face, and mumbled “How dare you?” to which she just giggled and returned to her drawing. 

Maybe she needs to spend less time with her granny, he remembers thinking to himself before turning to Daisy, who was trying to hold back a laugh but failed miserably. “Sorry about that.” 

She easily waved him off, shaking her head again, “Don’t worry about it. And to answer your question, little miss,” she leaned over the table, standing across Lily whose attention shifted again to her teacher, “I am not lonely, I have my cat to keep me company every day, silly.” 

That, and the fact that she has never once mentioned a boyfriend or any romantic interest, told him that she was single just like him. 

(At least he really hoped so.) 

And Harry just wants to get to know her better. He wants to know what irks her in the morning, if she hates it when people chew loudly like he does, if she likes to binge watch trashy reality shows in her free time. He wants to know what makes her laugh, what makes her cry, what makes her blush, what makes her flustered… 

Harry wants to know everything there is to know about Daisy Atkins. 

The sound of a little bell ringing, signalling that someone walked into the shop, breaks Harry out of his reverie. Shifting his attention from the arrangement of hydrangeas in his hands to greet the customer, Harry’s lips twist into a bright smile at the woman making her way to the counter. 

Calm down, Harry. 

Before he has the chance to greet her, his daughter shrieks and clumsily jumps out of her seat (Harry had placed a small table near the counter for her to sit and colour her drawings on), running to greet her favourite (and only) teacher. “Miss Daisy!” 

Daisy gasped out loud in feigned shock at seeing the little girl, wrapping her coat tighter around her frame in an attempt to warm herself up, “Lily? What are you doing here in this shop?” 

Lily giggles, looking up at her with her arms still wrapped tightly around Daisy’s legs, “You see me here many times, silly!” 

Tapping her chin as if she’s in deep thought, Daisy snaps her fingers and responds after a few moments, smiling down at his daughter, “That’s right, sweetface, how could I forget that? Silly me.” 

Harry just watches the two interact with a smile plastered on his face (that always seems to be the case whenever she’s around) and waits for Daisy to approach the counter where he’s still standing. 

He struggles to hear what they’re saying because they’re now whispering, but then Lily skips back to her little table and the woman he’s grown a little too fond of finally looks his way. 

His heart betrays him by skipping a beat at the way she smiles at him and he tries to calm it down, but to no avail. 

Despite the abundance of strong floral scents all around them, Harry can still recognise her signature perfume when she’s in front of him and he so desperately wishes he could reach out and wrap his arms around her. But they’ve never done that before, the closest Harry has gotten was standing right beside her and talking, but that was it. (Oh how he wishes he could be wrapped up in her warm embrace as she often does to Lily.) 

“Good morning, Harry,” her sweet voice invades his senses, much like her perfume, and he almost melts. God, you are pathetic. 

“Morning, love,” he doesn’t know how his voice doesn’t waver or break, but he’s thankful for it. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her any more than he already has. 

Light pink dusts her cheeks (no doubt from the cold) and the sun shining through the big front windows of the shop cast a glow around her almost as if she was an angel, a celestial being that doesn’t belong to this realm yet here she is right in front of him. 

Harry’s almost rendered speechless at the sight. 

“So what’s today’s bouquet?” She asks in that sweet voice of hers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her right ear. She was clad in a cosy black and white coat, a grey turtleneck underneath with fitting blue jeans (Harry tries his best not to stare too much) with her hair pulled back in a low bun. She looks gorgeous, just like every time he’s lucky enough to see her. 

He looks down at the arrangement of blue and purple flowers he’s still holding, “I recently got a bunch of hydrangeas and thought they looked very pretty, so.” He bit his bottom lip, waiting to see her reaction and hoping that she doesn’t hate the arrangement he prepared for her this Sunday. 

As usual, he didn’t have any reason to worry because Daisy smiled at him, as she always did, and nodded her head in approval. “They look very beautiful, Harry, I’m sure my mum will love them.” 

He noticed the sad glint in her eyes at the thought of her mother. He can’t imagine what it would feel like to lose his own, his mum means so much to him and he would be lost without her.

The first time she came into his shop, they were both surprised to see each other. He wasn’t expecting to see her outside of school, even though they live in the same city and he could very well run into her anywhere, but the thought never crossed his mind for some reason. He couldn’t help but wonder if they had caught glimpses of each other in the past, before they officially met, but Harry finds it hard to believe that he could ever forget seeing her. 

As for Daisy, she told him that she had no idea he was a florist, “Although I should’ve guessed since Lily’s so obsessed with flowers.” After a few weeks, he learns that Daisy visits her mother’s grave every other Sunday and likes to bring her flowers every time, “My mother loves flowers, my dad always brought her a bouquet every Friday on his way home from work,” she once told him, and his shop happens to be on her way. 

Originally, his shop wasn’t in this location, but they had recently moved to a bigger space that is much closer to his flat, so she was very happy that she didn’t have to go too far to get flowers. 

Since then, Harry makes sure to give her the best flower arrangements just to see her smile, and so she could bring her mother pretty flowers whenever she visits her. 

“I’m glad you think so,” Harry responded with a smile, ring clad hands adroitly tying a delicate ribbon around the bouquet, “it’s just about ready.” He takes notice of the way her eyes seem to follow his movements, though he’s not entirely sure if she’s watching his hands or the bouquet, but he likes to think it’s the former. (Lily tells him his rings are pretty, so maybe Daisy thinks so, too.) 

Much to his dismay, no more words are exchanged between them as he finishes up, his gaze shifting to her every few moments to find her already staring at him, then they would both blush and instantly look away. 

He extends the floral arrangement towards her and watches as she sniffs the flowers, smiling with her eyes closed, and Harry wishes he could give her flowers every day just to see her reaction. 

When her gaze shifts back to him, she tilts her head slightly and he can see the teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re not gonna tell me how much these are for, are you?” 

He smirks, leaning his forearms on the counter, completely missing the way she glanced at his arms, “What do you think?” 

He’d never let her pay for any of the bouquets. Business wise, it’s obviously not the smartest decision, but it’s his shop and he’s not going to let the beautiful woman he fancies give him any money. 

But she’s just as stubborn as he is, that’s why she always leaves some cash in the tip jar he has on the counter, usually right before she dashes out of the shop so he wouldn’t have the chance to argue back. 

Shaking her head at him, a smile still on her pretty lips, she reaches into her purse to take out her wallet, “I think that this is bad for business. Do you usually give out free bouquets to your customers?” 

Harry chuckles, not bothering to fight her as she slips money into the jar, her eyes daring him to try to stop her. “No, just the pretty ones.” 

The redness in her cheeks deepens and he can’t help but reveal in her reaction. Maybe she feels the same way as he does? Maybe she can sense that there’s something there?  

“Bet you say that to many women, eh?” 

He shakes his head, hoping that the sincere look on his face conveys the affection he harbours for her. 

“Just you.” 

She mumbles something incoherent under her breath, he thinks he heard the word “flirt” in there but he’s not so sure, but her shy smile remains. 

Connecting their eyes once more, she lifts the flowers in her hands and thanks him again, slowly backing out of the shop and Harry, as usual, finds himself not liking the growing distance between them. 

A plea for her to stay a little longer is just on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back because he knows he can’t do that, can’t ask her to stay when she dedicates this time to visit her mother. 

Next time, he tells himself. Maybe she’ll stop by the shop during the week, and then he could ask her to stay behind for a few minutes and chat.

“Bye, Harry,” she flashes him a sweet grin, turning to say goodbye to his daughter, who he knows she adores, before leaving. 

Harry can’t help but think of the Elton John song that’s playing, the lyric “Don’t go breaking my heart” echoing in his mind as he watched her wave to Lily one last time before stepping out of the shop, shooting him a tiny small before disappearing into the street. 

Please don’t go breaking my heart. 

Daisy doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to dating. 

The first date she’d ever been on was a complete disaster. Her date, who was one of her classmates whom she happened to have quite the big crush on, was half an hour late (she almost gave up) and once they arrived at the little café, he accidentally smacked her on the head with the rotating door. As if a bruised forehead wasn’t enough, as soon as their drinks arrived, she somehow managed to spill hers all over her baby blue dress, ruining the dress beyond repair. 

And on top of that, as the date went on and the two young students chatted, she realised that she didn’t like this boy at all. 

Suffice to say, she was not happy when she arrived back home that night. 

The second date she went on was just as bad, if not worse. This one was set up by her own parents, which should’ve rang alarm bells in her mind but she was so excited at the prospect of going on a date that she didn’t think about it. She was just about to go off to uni and this guy was a year older and all he would talk about was his amazing achievements and the plans he had for his future businesses (he was studying business, go figure). 

She left the date halfway through, having texted her best friend, Jane, to fake an emergency. 

Luck seemed to be on her side when she was at university. In her International Law lecture, she met who would become her first boyfriend, Lucas, with whom she had her first and only serious relationship. 

Lucas was nice; he was polite, always brought her snacks between classes and played with her hair as they cuddled on her bed, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. 

But Lucas was also a cheater. 

Therefore, Daisy had practically sworn off men and decided to just focus on her career and not pursue any romantic endeavours for the foreseeable future. 

Her resolve has been crumbling quite significantly since she’s met Harry, though. 

Daisy has met a few guys here and there over the years, and she’s not going to lie, she was drawn to some of them but didn’t dare initiate anything or let them think they had a chance. 

But Harry has her mind messed up. Tragically so. 

On one hand, he is so lovely, the kindest soul she’s ever met. Her nana used to tell her that there are some people who just radiate goodness and you can instantly sense it when you meet them, and even though she hasn’t spent that much time with Harry (much to her chagrin), she knows that he’s one of those people. 

He’s just good. 

On the other hand, however, he’s her student’s teacher, which could very well complicate things. And there’s a child involved, so what if things went sour between them? She’d never want to hurt Lily. 

And who says Harry even likes her that way? She could tell that he’s a bit of a flirt, if their past interactions were any indication, but that doesn’t mean he has any feelings for her. 

She knows that he’s not seeing anyone, but that doesn’t mean he wants to date her.

Besides, she has no idea if it’s even allowed. Or rather had no idea, because what inspired her mental walk down memory lane is the fact that she went and asked if there were any school regulations against her dating one of the parents, and surprisingly there isn’t. 

It’s not prohibited, but she’s been told that it’s okay as long as it doesn’t affect her work or things at school. 

So now she had a dilemma. Does she make a move and ask Harry out on a date, or should she try to forget all about him and just move on? 

(The second option sounded almost impossible to her.) 

It also doesn’t help that Valentine’s Day is quickly approaching and everywhere she goes she is going to be met with roses and pink and red hearts and whatnot. 

And for once, Daisy doesn’t want to be alone on the cliché and overly commercialised day. 

“What should I do, Cam?” She sighed, turning to face her friend. Camila’s class was out in the playground with another teacher so she’s in Daisy’s classroom to catch up a bit and she’s grateful for her company because it’s the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. 

Damn Harry and his beautiful smile. 

Camila pondered over her response for a moment before shooting her a serious look, “I can’t tell you what to do, babe, but I also don’t want you to be lonely on valentine’s, so maybe you should just go for it?” She then shrugged her shoulders, “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“He could reject me, Cam!” Daisy’s eyes were wide, appalled at her best friend’s nonchalance. Harry could outright reject her and she’ll be forever embarrassed! How could she ever show her face at work again? She’ll have to quit and move to another city! 

Camila just chuckled and shook her head at her friend, “Highly unlikely, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Daisy, all of the mums are jealous of the way he seems to smile a lot with you.” Then she leans in closer, lowering her voice to avoid being heard by any little ears, “And quite frankly, some of the bitchy teachers, too, like Talia.” 

She scoffed, not believing a word Camila said. “That can’t be true.”

“Fine then, spend the rest of your life alone.” 

Rolling her eyes, she pushed Camila’s arm in jest. “Thanks, that was very helpful, Cam, I feel much better.” 

Her friend flashed her a grin and shrugged her shoulders again, “What are friends for?” 

“Piss off.” 

A little gasp was heard from nearby and she turned to find one of her boys, Nicholas, looking at her with wide eyes. “Miss Daisy, that wasn’t nice!”

How lovely.

*** 

Daisy usually loved flowers, maybe not as much as her mother once did, but she adored them nonetheless. 

But she swore she would combust if she saw another red rose in sight. 

With only a couple of days left till the dreaded February 14th, the colour red was everywhere and quite frankly, Daisy was sick of it. 

She had come to terms with the fact that she doesn’t have the courage to ask Harry out in fear of being rejected or making things awkward between them. She likes the little moments they share when he drops off and picks up Lily as well as when she goes into his shop on the way to visit her mother. 

It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. 

Walking into her classroom, Daisy's mood brightened a little at the prospect of seeing Harry and Lily very soon, that is until her eyes fell on the calendar and she realised it was Friday, meaning that neither Styles would make an appearance (she only sees Lily from Monday to Thursday). 

Her mood plummets again. 

Thankfully, the presence of her other kids takes her mind off things for the time being. She really does enjoy teaching them and interacting with them; she finds it a privilege that she gets to watch them grow and contribute to their development. 

After Asher leaves with his mother, Daisy is left alone in her classroom to her own devices. Putting on one of her favourite playlists, she starts to go around the room and tidy it up, that way when she comes to work on Monday it’ll be clean and organised. 

Lost in the soulful voice of Etta James, she doesn’t notice the man nervously approaching her door, clutching a bouquet in his clammy hand. 

A knock startled her and she almost tripped over a small chair. She hears a loud “Shit” and in a second he is standing in front of her, one of his hands hovering over her arm. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She looks up at him in shock. Harry wasn’t supposed to be here today, what could he possibly want-

“Oh my God is Lily okay?” Her eyes are wide with worry over the sweet girl, mind racing at the possibilities. 

“What?” She’s met with a perplexed expression and a chuckle. Who on earth looks this cute with a scrunched up face? “Lily’s fine, why would you think something’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head and responds, confused as to why he was here (not that she was complaining or anything). “Then what brings you here today…” Daisy trails off upon spotting the beautiful arrangement of flowers grasped tightly in his right hand. 

Are those daisies?

Harry’s back straightens and he clears his throat, as if suddenly remembering the reason why he showed up at his daughter’s class today when she wasn’t at school. 

“I, uhm,” he stutters, his green eyes seemingly wide with panic for some reason she is yet to understand. “You see… I…” 

She can’t help but chuckle. He looked adorable with crimson cheeks and tousled hair that she not so secretly wanted to run her fingers through. “What is it, Harry?” 

He cleared his throat again and ran a hand through his curls, looking her in the eyes once more. “I was, uh, wondering if you’re free this Sunday?” 

It took her a couple of seconds until realisation dawned upon her and her eyes widened, processing his words. Harry was standing right in front of her asking her if she was free on Valentine’s Day.

A few moments passed and the expectant yet slightly terrified look on Harry’s face made her realised that she hasn’t said anything yet so she quickly responds, taking a step closer towards him. “Yes!” She mentally scolds herself for sounding crazy and way too eager, so she clears her throat and tries again, “I mean yes, I’m free, why do you ask?” 

Somehow, his cheeks turn a deeper shade of red and he holds up the bouquet in front of her, “I was hoping you’d be my valentine maybe? If that’s something you would like?” 

Daisy hoped to God that she isn’t dreaming, otherwise she would be extremely fucking pissed when she wakes up. 

She eagerly nodded her head, lips stretching into a wide smile, fingers etching to reach out and touch him. “I’d love that.” 

“Really?” He perks up, like he wasn’t sure she would agree to his proposition. 

How could he ever think she wouldn’t say yes in a heartbeat? Perhaps Daisy has been a little too subtle. 

Seeming to remember the flowers in his hand, he gestures to them with a smile, “Thought I’d get you daisies instead of typical red roses, wanted it to be special.” 

Daisy doesn’t think she’d be able to hold herself back from kissing him if he says another word. 

How is this man real? He got her an arrangement of colourful daisies, for crying out loud! 

Her fingers brush against his when she reaches out to grab the delicate flowers and she blushes at the touch. “Thank you, Harry, that’s so sweet of you, I love them.” 

He just smiles bashfully in response. 

Excited about their upcoming date, Daisy can’t help but ask about what he had planned for the two of them. 

“Oh, uhm…” Harry fumbles his words, nervously fidgeting with his fingers and Daisy’s heart beats violently in her chest. Everything this man does is so endearing to her for some reason. “I actually haven’t planned anything yet, wasn’t too sure you would agree in the first place.” 

Automatically, her eyes roll and she can’t stop herself from saying “I thought it was obvious that I fancied you, everyone at least says so.” 

Harry’s eyes widen yet again and he seems to be at a loss for words, and Daisy decided she would just take charge of this. “Tell you what, how about you come to my flat and we could cook dinner together? Is that okay?” 

His dimpled smile makes her heart beat faster and she hopes she doesn’t pass out. God, you sound like a lovesick teenager, she mentally scolds herself. “That sounds great.” 

“That settles it then,” she sighs in content, brushing a piece of hair that was bugging her behind her ear, Harry’s eyes trailing her movements. “Dinner at my flat on Sunday.” 

Harry nods again, eyes shining brightly in the afternoon light (Daisy has never been more in love with green eyes). “Can’t wait.” 

“Me neither.” 

The two stare at each other fondly, standing like a couple of fools in the middle of a room surrounded by many toys, and Daisy is certain that her right foot is standing on a squeaky duck toy. 

But none of that mattered in that moment. 

And Daisy finds it just a little ironic that Etta James’ At Last is playing in the background. 

“Now be good for your Nana and share your toys with your cousins, okay?” Harry kneels down in front of Lily, who vigorously nods her head in understanding, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for school, yeah?”  

Lily quickly looks over her shoulder upon hearing the loud shrieks and giggles back in the house, no doubt coming from his nieces. “See you, Daddy, miss you! Can I play now?” 

He shakes his head laughing before he extends his arms, “Can I get a big hug first?” 

Lily may be small, but she has a lot of energy in her and thankfully Harry is used to it and braces himself as she throws herself towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “Love you, Daddy.” 

“Love you, my little flower.” He presses a kiss to her head before telling her to go play and she doesn’t hesitate to run inside. “Be careful!” 

His mother waves him off, “Don’t worry about her, you just go on with your date and I’ll take good care of her, as usual,” she particularly stresses the last bit, making him laugh as he stands back up. (He winces slightly at the pain shooting in his back. He really does have the body of an old man.) 

“I can’t believe you’re going on a date with Daisy, I’m so excited.” Anne claps her hands, grinning at him, and he soon feels her soft motherly touch on his face as she holds it in her hands. 

He rolls his eyes at her antics but he feels the blush blooming in his cheeks, “Mother, please.” 

He’s already on edge as it is, his veins buzzing with both nerves and excitement. The idea of finally going on a proper date with someone he actually really likes is one that has his mind reeling in a way it hasn’t in such a long time and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. 

However, he doesn’t miss his mother’s usual teasing comments. Anne means well, but Harry just wants to leave and get into his car as fast as he can. The quicker he departs, the sooner he can enjoy Daisy’s company. 

(He’s also just a little bit famished.) 

His mother scoffs, “What? I’m allowed to be excited about my son meeting up with a wonderful woman-“

Harry steps back, laughing at the offended look on his mother’s face, “I’m gonna go now. Bye, mum.” 

“Have fun!” He hears her yell as he’s pulling the car from the driveway. 

Harry has no doubt she will interrogate him the next day when he picks up Lily.

*** 

The door is not all that interesting, it’s just a regular one that looks almost identical to his own flat’s front door, but Harry spends the next few moments after knocking staring at the wood, impatiently waiting to finally see her face. 

He was worried that she would hear just how loudly his heart was beating in its cage. His hands were also quite clammy already, which he was seriously annoyed about because what if she feels disgusted when she touches his hand? He can’t have that! 

What if the tupperware of cookies accidentally slips from his hand? And he thinks his sweaty palm is ruining the bouquet of flowers and oh my God this is a disaster already- 

The door opens and suddenly all Harry can register is her smile. 

“Harry, come on in!” All he does is flash her a smile back, following her into her flat and toeing off his shoes. 

She turns to him, cheeks rosy as she takes in his appearance. Harry put on his favourite maroon sweater and a pair of black jeans, a grey winter coat completing the look. He’s also sporting his usual rings; he loves wearing them, but he’d be lying if he said that he’d worn them for any reason other than the fact that she seemed to like them (he’s seen her stare at his hands more than once, so he thinks she’s into it). 

Also, he paid extra attention to his hair, he likes his curls and apparently women do, too. 

“I’m glad you made it.” 

He was breathing in the scent of cinnamon and sugar in the air when her words stopped in his tracks in panic. “What, did you think I’d bail?” Did he not seem serious about their date?

“What? No no no!” Daisy immediately reaches her hands out before dropping them and wrapping her arms around herself. “I just meant that I’m happy you’re here.” 

Embarrassed at himself, Harry looks down at his socked feet and hopes that his voice doesn’t betray him when he responds, “I’m happy to be here.” 

Why must he always be so awkward? 

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at himself, he gestures towards the items in his hands. “These are for you,” he extends the flowers to her, smiling at the way she always sniffs them before thanking him. He raises his other hand, pointing at the tupperware “And these are some cookies Lily and I made yesterday, heart-shaped and all.” 

Putting a hand against her heart, Daisy shakes her head and he swears her smile could light up the darkest of rooms. “Thank you, Harry, you didn’t have to.” 

“Sure, I did,” he widened his eyes to emphasise his point, “can’t spend Valentine’s Day without eating a heart-shaped something.” 

“Is that so?” She plays along, moving to place the flowers (jasmines this time) in a vase. He follows her to the kitchen, eyes catching a bunch of framed pictures along the wall, a huge bookshelf in the living room, and one of those cat towers (it was pink like the one at his mother’s house). 

Just from what he’s seen, her flat seems very cosy and makes anyone coming in feel like they’re at home. Or maybe that’s just her welcoming aura. Either way, Harry is glad she suggested they have the date at her place. 

Her cream cardigan moves as she does, one of the shoulders slipping slightly to reveal the red and white polkadot dress underneath. Her attire is simple yet he thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

Harry’s mother raised him right and he is a respectful person (and he believes everyone should be, it’s basic human decency), but he can hardly control his eyes as they move along the curve of her shoulder, across her décolletage, drawing a path all the way to the centre of her chest where a pendant rests. 

Remember, you respect women’s bodies and staring is rude, stop it!, he mentally scolds himself, eyes quickly shifting to admire her hair instead. Usually, she has her hair up in a ponytail or in a low bun, but tonight it’s down and cascades over her shoulders in soft curls. 

Harry still stands by what he constantly tells his daughter, that his Lily is the prettiest flower, but he would be lying if he said Daisy wasn’t a very strong contender. 

(He wouldn’t tell Lily that, though. He’ll keep that thought just to himself for the time being.) 

But he can’t just not let her know what he’s thinking. “You’re very beautiful, Daisy.” 

The woman instantly looks up, meeting his eyes, and even the dim kitchen lights can’t hide the blooming blush on her cheeks. If she’s going to look that pretty blushing, Harry has no option but to compliment her any chance he gets just to witness the sight. 

Daisy might just be the most beautiful person he’s ever known, and he’s not going to stop reminding her of that. 

Her response comes a few beats late, “You look quite lovely yourself.” 

Nothing worth mentioning next to you, he thinks to himself but he doesn’t say it out loud. 

His eyes follow her as she moves around the kitchen island, stopping right in front of him. A light touch grazes his hand before warm fingers wrap around his own and it takes him a couple of seconds to register that she’s holding his hand in hers. 

Pretty eyes gaze up at him under the kitchen lights, sparkling with a hint of challenge he thinks. “Ready to start cooking?” 

Yeah, maybe Harry shouldn’t have told her about that time he burnt a whole roast dinner. But he’s gotten much better in the kitchen (he thinks). 

Hopefully he doesn’t embarrass himself tonight; he would be utterly horrified if he was the reason her kitchen burned down. 

Please don’t burn anything. “Let’s do it, chef, lead the way.” 

She bites her lip to hold back a smile (for what reason, he doesn’t know) and pulls him behind her.

Harry might sound crazy, but he thinks he’d follow her just about anywhere. 

*** 

Harry’s having a great time. 

Much of the time they spent cooking involved singing and dancing along to her playlist, the kitchen utensils acting as microphones as they belted out ABBA lyrics (luckily no one was accidentally stabbed). At one point, Harry grabbed her hands and they danced around like idiots on the kitchen floor to the sound of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now.

As sad as it may sound, Harry doesn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun with someone other than his family or his best friend. 

More laughter and stories are shared over drinks and plates of delicious dinner. Turns out Harry can be great in the kitchen if he’s just under the right command. (His mother usually kicks him out of the kitchen when she’s fed up, but thankfully Daisy seems much more patient and he thinks it’s because she works with children.) 

“Last year a kid projectile vomited all over me and it was blue for some reason. I’ve never seen blue puke before, I’ll never forget that.” 

“You know, one time instead of ordering 100 roses last year for valentine’s, I accidentally ordered 1000 and they couldn’t fit in the shop. Had to give away so many of them out on the streets and this old woman thought I was flirting or something and she hit me with her gloves.” 

“When I was a kid, my parents almost forgot me on the way to the airport, and I’m their only child! It was almost a Home Alone situation.” 

“Lily once told me that she wishes she could see a real dinosaur so she could feed them. I’m not sure she knows what exactly dinosaurs eat.” 

Now they sat in comfortable silence as they devoured the cookies he and Lily made. Harry caught the soft look in her eyes when she spotted the cookies that were clearly decorated by his daughter, the wobbly lines and extra sprinkles being dead giveaways, and his heart fluttered for the umpteenth time. 

Daisy is the first to speak. She tapped her glass, eyeing him with hesitation and he already knows what’s coming. “Can I ask you something personal? You can choose not to answer, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He nods in understanding, appreciating that she’s giving him an out. “You want to know what happened to Lily’s mother.”

Guilt was written all over her face. “Some people like to talk around the school, but I don’t pay any mind to them, so I don’t really know anything.” 

“Well,” he takes a deep breath, as if to gather his strength, before launching into his and Lily’s backstory. He doesn’t believe she’s overstepping (he can tell she thinks she is), if anything he’s grateful she chose to ask him directly rather than listen to some gossip from people that don’t know the first thing about him. “I fell in love when I was in university and we got married right after we graduated.”

“We hadn’t planned on having any kids until after a few years,” the corner of his lips tugged up in a half smile at the memory of when he found out he was going to be a father; it’s one of the best days of his life. “But then Eileen told me she was pregnant and that’s when it started going downhill I guess.” 

He could feel the all too familiar twist in his heart as he revisited the memories that should only carry happiness and excitement regarding his first baby, but instead they were slightly tainted by pain and heartache. “She, uh, I could tell she wasn’t as excited as I was about the baby, but I chalked it up to nerves and anxiety because we were still pretty young.” 

“Hey,” he felt Daisy’s light touch on his forehead, easing the furrowing lines with a tenderness Harry hasn’t experienced in a long time, “you don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.” Her pretty eyes held nothing but kindness and understanding in them; the warm kitchen lights above them made it as though she was glowing as she gave him her undivided attention. 

Harry wanted to bask in her warmth for as long as she would let him. 

He shook his head in response, his hand reaching out for one of her own to caress the soft skin, “You deserve to know the story, especially if this becomes serious between us.” And Harry has a strong feeling that whatever this thing was between them won’t end anytime soon. 

Her encouraging smile is enough for him to continue. “We had Lily and just before she was two months old, I woke up to her loud cries and I couldn’t find Eileen. After she calmed down, I found a long letter on the bed explaining that she never wanted to be a mother and she can’t live like this anymore,” his throat started closing up, tears blurring his vision, but he didn’t stop. “Said she doesn’t want to share her life with me anymore.”

I thought this is what I wanted, what I could want, but it isn’t. I’m sorry. 

Harry never saw her again, not even when they were finalising their divorce, everything was strictly handled through their lawyers. 

“I know it doesn’t change anything, but I’m sorry, no one deserves to go through that,” her hand squeezes his own and the soft caress of her thumb calms him down. He misses the array of emotions flickering in her eyes, looking down at their intertwined hands. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“If it’s any consolation,” she adds, lips stretching into a smile once more, “Lily is a great kid, you’ve done a wonderful job raising her.” 

His lips lift up at the mention of his daughter. “You know, she’s the reason I finally had the guts to ask you out.” 

Her face twists in confusion. 

“Apparently she heard you saying that you’re gonna be lonely on Valentine’s Day and she was upset about it,” her lips pout and she breathes out a small awe.

“Guess that was the push I needed.” Suddenly feeling emboldened, he reaches a hand out to wipe the corner of her lips, catching a stray cookie crumb. His touch lingers for a beat before he pulls his hand back, resting it against the back of her chair instead. 

Harry loves the sight of her rosy cheeks. 

“Oh,” he lets out a little laugh, remembering another moment with Lily and leans forward again, “she once asked me if I liked you like my sister Gemma likes her husband.” 

Daisy throws her head back, laughing in delight, “kids are so much smarter than people give them credit for.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Harry scoffs, grabbing another heart-shaped cookie from the plate, “that girl may be almost 5 but she already knows too much.” 

“Lily is quite bright,” she agreed, mimicking his movements and grabbing a cookie herself, “you know I heard her saying the word “investment” a couple of weeks ago? How does she even know that?” 

Of course. He rolls his eyes. “My best mate Niall is around a lot and all he talks about is business and golf, so I’m not surprised she’s picked up a few words.” 

Lily needs to stop hanging out with Niall this much, he doesn’t want his daughter sounding like a financial adviser at the age of 5. 

“Gosh I adore that child.” 

His heart jumps in his chest and he wonders where on earth this woman had been hiding. In the past, he rarely got the chance to talk about Lily with his dates. They would either talk about themselves or ask him about himself, what he likes, and his hobbies. Most of his life, if not all of it, revolves around Lily and so his answers almost always involve her somehow, and apparently that isn’t very appealing to the majority of women. 

But then here is this beautiful, intelligent, and kind-hearted woman complimenting his child and saying she adores her, not in the least annoyed about Lily being mentioned. 

How could his heart ever stand a chance? 

If they were characters in a cartoon, Harry is confident that he would have literal heart-eyes in that instant and some lovey dovey song would be playing in the background (to be fair, Billie Holiday’s All of Me was softly playing through the speaker system, so it’s kind of fitting). 

They say that eyes are windows to the soul, and if anyone took a close look at his, they’d no doubt find nothing but deep affection for the woman sitting before him. 

Harry is in big trouble.

Surprisingly, though, he finds that he is okay with that. 

A few moments of silence pass by, the pair staring at each other with tender eyes and shy smiles. His eyes trace the soft laugh lines on her face, trailing to the gentle slope of her nose and stopping at her cupid’s bow, taking in the way her tongue glides over her bottom lip. Oh what he would give to taste her- 

“Can I kiss you?” 

It takes Harry a second to realise that Daisy is the one that spoke and not him, and his brain immediately short-circuits. 

Luckily, his body seemed to function, his hands cupping her face and he revels in the feeling of her. “Was gonna ask you first.” He manages to say, all while pulling her closer. 

Her eyelashes flutter against the top of her cheeks, but he doesn’t miss the teasing glint in her eyes. “You snooze, you lose, I guess,” she whispered, lips so close he could almost taste her shea butter lip balm; he knows for a fact that’s the flavour she uses, he’s seen her apply the familiar tube numerous times. 

He lets out a breathy chuckle at her words, tugging her just a touch closer, as if almost teasing the both of them, “Don’t think I’m losing here, love.” 

He takes another glance at her mouth, giving her the chance to pull away if she wants to, before finally pushing forward and meeting her lips with his own. 

Daisy sighs into his mouth, or perhaps lets out a moan (Harry’s not certain because his brain is no longer functioning), almost in relief at the touch, and Harry feels it, too. Finally, after all these months and all the shared little moments and shy gazes, they connected.

And Harry reckons she’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. 

After the divorce, Harry didn’t think he’d ever feel this way about someone else again. His walls were so high up that no one could possibly get through, but she somehow managed to slowly and gently sneak her way into his heart and make a home in one of its chambers. 

He finds himself craving her presence, even though they haven’t spent more than five minutes around one another since they’d first met, but that just made him yearn to be around her even more somehow. 

Maybe some wishes do come true. 

All too soon Daisy starts to pull back, his lips chasing hers even though his lungs have started to burn from the lack of oxygen. She just chuckles and pecks his lips twice before sitting back up, her hands still tangled in his hair. 

“Hope that was okay, I’m a little rusty.” 

His right foot hooks around the stool she was sat on, pulling it closer. Now that he’s finally gotten this close, he doesn’t plan on staying too far from her if he can help it. He can feel her fingers playing with the hairs in the nape of his neck and the touch is so relaxing he almost leans back into it, but he chooses not to so he could still be within her lips’ reach. 

“That was more than okay,” her lips then meet his once again in short pecks, their smiles growing with each peck until the two are grinning like fools. 

With her forehead resting against his, Daisy speaks into the now quiet kitchen, her eyes glowing with so much sincerity that Harry knows her words are genuine, “I know this is only our first date and I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I want you to know that I’m in this for the long run. I adore Lily,” a peck on his lips, “and I adore you.”

For a second he feels his eyes watering. All his life he just wanted to love someone and be loved, and he had thought that he did have that for some time, but he knows this is different. She’s different. 

He doesn’t know how he knows that, but he just does. 

And he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, he’s still being a little cautious, but he can see them becoming much closer, love growing between them and healing the broken pieces of his heart, replacing the ache with affection until he forgets why it hurt in the first place. 

Much like flowers, love requires tender care and nurturing; you can’t rush it, and without proper care, it won’t reach its full bloom. 

And how lucky is Harry to have not only one flower in his life, but two? 

He can see himself sitting on his grey couch cuddling his flowers, each tucked under one of his arms, and everything seems to fall into place. 

Yeah, Harry’s in this for the long run, too. 

Hope you enjoyed reading When Flowers Bloom just as much as I loved writing it. Don’t forget to reblog and leave feedback, it means the world to me, and don’t hesitate to come talk to me about Harry and Daisy in my inbox! And happy Valentine’s Day!

You can also check out my other writings in my masterlist!

Till next time, Nora

[ichigoromi]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

This is going to be cute and I needed some fluff these days...

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi (timeskip) x fem reader! (she/her)

Genre: fluff

Warning (s): none!

Enjoy!

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Being a kindergarten teacher is not as simple as people think, but it was rewarding when the kids thanked you for teaching them.

You have been dating Sakusa for about four years now, and recently, you two moved in together.

It was a big move in your relationship and many changes to get used to.

Like how the two of you fought on what tea brand to get and ended up getting two boxes of tea.

Nevertheless, both of you are enjoying living together.

As Children's Day is coming up, the teachers at the academy are staying overtime to prepare for the big event for the kids.

Sakusa was busy training for his upcoming games, so he can't pick you up because you end work later than him.

It was getting really late, and you had to bring back your share of work to finish up.

Sakusa looked up from his book when he heard the familiar beeping of the digital lock that you two have agreed to install. He put down his book and went to the front to greet you.

You look exhausted and pale.

"Welcome home, baby. How are you today?" He instantly wraps his arms around you, and you bury your face into his chest.

"Very tired, and I'm hungry. I still have to finish up the origamis." You whined, and he laughed at how whiny you are since you usually don't act like this.

"Okay, go take a shower. I'll whip up something quick for you and help you out." He kisses your forehead, and you set your bag at the dining table before heading straight for the bedroom.

After a quick shower, you were feeling more refreshed and still hungry.

"Here. I made fried rice with the leftover from yesterday. Eat up." Sakusa placed the bowl of rice in front of you, and you thanked him before taking a bite.

He sits in front of you and watches you finish the bowl of rice within minutes.

"Before we get married, I should go learn how to cook from your mother. How can I make you cook for me every day?" He immediately shook his head.

"It's alright. I want to cook for you. Don't worry about that." He never lets you step into the kitchen after you almost burn his kitchen down by setting his microwave on fire.

Sakusa takes the cleared bowl to the kitchen while you go and get your workstation set up in the living room.

You were back to folding the remaining origami that you were supposed to finish back at the school and now back to folding it at home again. Sakusa was cleaning up and came back to the living room with two mugs of hot tea.

He sits down next to you and picks up some of the paper mixed in with the others.

"What's this? A confession letter?" It was very clumsy handwriting with a big heart.

"Ah, that must be Toyo-chan from my class. He is a very polite and shy boy; I want to pin this up!" You took the piece of paper from him.

Sakusa sighed and continued to help you fold the origami. Then he found a couple more love letters from your students.

Without warning, he suddenly pulls you into his lap. You felt him lean his chin on your shoulder and pout against your neck.

Was he really getting jealous over a bunch of pre-schoolers?

"Kiyoomi, are you really getting jealous of a bunch of three years old that likes their teacher? Aww, come here!" You cup his face in your tiny hands and plant a big fat kiss on his lips.

When you see that he was still upset about it, you continue to kiss his lips and then his cheeks, and then soon all over his face until he starts to smile and holds your face in his to stop you from kissing.

"Now, I got you to stop pouting, please help me do my work!" You plant one kiss on his cheeks and settle in his lap, folding origami.

"Since you're so cute, I guess I have to help you so we can cuddle." He pinched your cheek and continues to help you with the origami.

I just got inspired while listening to Japanese boyfriend ASMR and it came out like this! I'm kinda proud of this headcanon? It's just so cute and I am in need of some fluff!

plus valentine is just around the corner and I'm spending it alone, but what's new?

Hope you guys enjoy this I will be releasing a valentine special, lol, just one character tho cause I'm busy!

Stay safe and healthy!

With love,

Rosalie🍓

[lacontroller1991]

Mr. and Mrs. Flag (Rick Flag x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @myownworldsstuff​ : Rick Flag and Reader where they are married with Mr. and Mrs. Smith vibes

@h-hxgirl​ @artemis-cr0ck​

Author's Note: I think the title is very fitting 😁

Warnings: Mention of child loss, mentions of abortion, language 

The smell of homemade spaghetti entered Rick’s nostrils as he walked through the threshold into his shared home with you, his wife. Hearing the door open, you quickly wiped your palms on your apron before rushing to greet him.

“Hey baby, how was work?” You asked as he set down a briefcase before pulling you into his embrace, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Work’s work, I had clients all the way up my ass today, bitching about how their stocks are plummeting,” he replied as you hummed, giving him a smile before pulling away. You knew he wasn’t a stock marketer. You knew he worked with some of the world’s most dangerous criminals. In any case, you were there to gather any intel you managed to scrape up for the CIA. What you didn’t expect was to slowly love him along the way. The CIA had warned you not to do what you did, saying that he was just a mission, but to you he became more than that. He became your best friend. He became your lover.

“Well, dinner is ready. Your favorite,” you whispered against his ear as you tugged against his blazer.

“You know me so well.”

You two ate in silence aside from the occasional slurp of noodles and guzzle of wine.

“So, how was your day?” He asked as you twirled the stem of your wine glass between your thumb and index finger, desperately wanting to tell him about how your day really was. As far as he knew, or so you thought, you were a kindergarten teacher at the local school.

“It was alright, I had 5 kids not wanting to take a nap, and 3 of them being rowdy as always. Even though I teach kids, I still don’t want one,” you mentioned as he let out a small chuckle before silence cascaded over the room. Your eyes locked with his as he cleared his throat.

“Listen, sweetheart, I got something to tell you.”

“No, I do too,” you replied, hands fidgeting underneath the table. Normally, this wouldn’t be such a big deal, but this was Rick you were telling. Someone you actually care for. You both paused for a moment, urging the other to speak; however, that was put on hold as you saw something glisten in the moonlight out of the corner of your eye before noticing that it was quiet. Too quiet, you thought to yourself before a rain of bullets ripped through the window. Falling to the floor, you glanced over to Rick who too, looked over to you.

“I’m a secret agent.”

“I do special ops,” you both said at the same time, his news not new to you, but yours was to him.

“For how long?” He asked loudly, army crawling to a secret stash of guns as you copied his movements, reaching for your own.

“15 years,” you stated, loading some guns and grabbing a couple of knives as he cocked some guns.

“Shit. You’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

“Rick, you have been too, this is not the time and place for this conversation. There’s a secret door in the kitchen that will lead to the sewer, we can make it out of here,” you mentioned as he glared at you with mistrust in his eyes before giving in and nodding. Crawling your way to the secret door, you quickly stood up and shot your gun in the general vicinity of the advancing adversaries before you went down the stairs into the small basement with Rick following you. Turning to open the lid, you were stopped as a body was pressed against you and a gun to your temple. Staring into his hazel eyes, you noticed slight flecks of green and brown that you had come to love.

“How can I trust you?” He seethed as you didn’t try to fight back.

“Rick, if I was here to kill you, I would’ve. I’m an agent, yes, but I wasn’t assigned to kill you. Please, let’s just get to safety before we go into this,” you begged as he nodded, opening the lid to the sewer before jumping in, trying to not gag at the stench. Turning on the flashlight, you and Rick made your way through the tunnels before you found the exit you designated for something like this. Climbing up the ladder, you looked behind you to make sure he was following you, and when you saw he was, you opened the hatch and climbed out into the crisp autumn night. Climbing out after you, he looked at you, feelings confused as to what to do with you.

“You got a safe house?” He asked as you nodded, starting to walk the way of the house before he grabbed your arm and shook his head.

“It might be safer if we went to Belle Reve.”

“Show me the way.”

----------

Stepping out of the shower, you wringed out your hair with a towel as you made your way into the small room with an office attached to it.

“So this is where you sleep on the nights you can’t come home,” you quipped as he shot you a glare, cleaning the water off of his guns.

“Home,” he scoffed, clicking the barrel back into place, “what a joke.” Sighing, you took a seat next to him, flinching as he moved away from you.

“That’s what it is for me,” you tried to reason as he glared at you again, trying to remain stoic and not heartbroken that the love of his life is secretly an undercover agent.

“What am I to you?” His voice hoarse from the yelling and then the silent treatment. Placing a small hand on his shoulder, you were surprised when he didn’t move to remove it.

“My husband.”

“No, what am I to you? A target? A mission? Decoy?”

“Mission,” you muttered meekly as he ran a hand over his face before you continued, “4 years ago, the CIA debriefed me on you. West Point Grad. Special Ops officer. Leader of Task Force X. The latter being what they were concerned with. They wanted me to gather whatever I could on your team and report back to them. And for the first year, I did. I went through all of your records on your computers and then some, but what they didn’t count on was that…,” you hesitated for a moment, twirling your thumbs as he waited for you to continue, “...what I didn’t count on was that I would fall in love with you. Yes, you were my mission, but what I feel for you is real. Hell, those assholes who were shooting at us were probably after me,” you finished as you took a breath, feeling his calculating eyes scope you out, trying to tell if what you were saying was real or not.

“Why would they be shooting at you,” came out his gruff question as you turned your head to focus on him.

“Probably found out the information I supplied was falsified. The first year of information was all correct, but once I realized that I did, in fact, love you and was not clouded by hormones, I stopped providing correct information.”

“Why would you be clouded by hormones?”

“I was pregnant,” you whispered, moving to clutch your stomach where the baby died inside of you.

“What?” Rick asked, scooting closer to you, not sure if he heard you correctly.

“I was pregnant with your kid. The CIA found out and terminated the pregnancy,” admitting the horrors of what the agency did to you brought up memories of the procedure. Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered the intense pain that accompanied the loss of your child.

“Shit, baby,” Rick whispered, finally letting his guard down and believing you as he watched the way your eyes glossed over. I know that look all too well, he thought before pulling you into his arms and running his hand through your hair as you broke down. Tears poured down your face as he gently shushed you, slightly rocking his body with yours.

“I’m sorry, Rick. I really am. I really do love you, you have to believe me,” you begged through sobs as he paused for a second, realizing that he didn’t care about your past and your initial mission and that all he cared about in that moment was his wife in his arms.

“It’s alright baby, I understand. We’ll make this work,” he whispered against the top of your head, rubbing circles into your back. After a while, he had moved you and him up against the bed so that you were lying against his chest as his arms wrapped themselves around you.

“Rick,” you called out from his chest. Moving to look down at you, he brushed a strand of wet hair from your face.

“Yeah baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” kissing the top of your head, he rubbed your back again as he listened to your breathing become quiet and unnoticeable. Noting that you had fallen asleep, he took the opportunity to shut his eyes and let his mind carry him into a dull slumber.

Author’s Note: AHHH Hope you enjoy!!!

[kiseki-no-scenarios]

Ahh, I had SO MANY IDEAS so of course I had to put it down in writing!

GOM + Kasamatsu reactions to having an indirect kiss with their crush - Part 1 (Akashi, Midorima, Aomine)

Akashi

Sitting quietly on the tatami mat, Akashi’s gaze was focused on the shoji board that was set up in front of him. He had just taken a sip of his tea when you had burst into the room, face flushed and sweat beading along your hairline as you panted, leaning against the doorframe.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late!!!”

Not missing a single beat or showing any sort of surprise, Akashi calmly set the teacup back down, folding his arms as he smiled serenely at you. “It’s no problem, _____.”

“Sensei wanted to chat with me about one of the assignments, then we just started chatting about the show that was on TV last night…”

You were too busy smoothing down your flyaway hairs and the skirt of your uniform to notice that Akashi was watching you with an uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes. Not that he’d be explicitly admitting to it so easily anytime soon, but he truly looked forward to the games of shoji the two of you played together.

“I’m going to definitely impress you today, Akashi-kun!” You stated confidently, sitting down across the board. “I’m been practicing a whole lot!”

“We shall see.” Akashi responded diplomatically, nudging the board slightly so it was set exactly in the middle between the two of you.

The air grew thick with tension as the two of you began, Akashi murmuring words of praise as he saw that you were indeed putting his teaching into practice, managing to stay ahead of him for most of the match. However, he had no intent to let go of this pastime with you anytime soon, so he enjoyed the look of frustration on your face as he cleanly delivered a strategic response to your tactics.

“Not again…!” You sighed, tapping your fingers against your side as you studied the board intently.

His next words died in his throat as he watched you absentmindedly pick up the teacup-his teacup, that his lips had touched-and bring it up to your lips. You were clearly focused on the match and had accidentally grabbed the wrong cup.

“Oh, this is really delicious!”

Akashi felt his mouth grow dry, his mind clearly conjuring other ideas of what exactly you were referring to as being delicious…

Midorima

“Mido-kun!! Is that what I think it is???”

Grabbing the cup out of the green-haired shooter’s hands, you stared at it in wonder. “How long did you have to line up for this?”

“It was my lucky item, so of course I had Takao acquire it.”

“Don’t even get me started, _____-chan.” The point guard groaned, his head resting atop his folded arms. “I had to wake up so early to get to the store, and there were already people there!”

The item in question was a new offering at one of the most popular bubble tea shops in the area, and unfortunately it was a daily limited-item selection. There was no way, with your constant need for the most sleep you could manage in a day and the fact that your parents had been less than impressed with your begging to take off a day of school to try what you had referred to as the “elixir of the gods” for you to even get a taste of it.

You stared longingly at the drink, Midorima easily understanding the look of desperation in your eyes. He had tried it, but didn’t find it much to write home about-but, nonetheless, he had to have it on his person.

Unconsciously, your tongue had darted out and swept across your lips, and Midorima felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of your wet lips, the lips that had been recently haunting his thoughts.

His fingers gripped the edges of his desk before he adjusted his glasses, as nonchalantly as possible as he cleared his throat.

“_____. If you’d like, I can certainly share-“

“Then try it if you want, _____-chan!” Takao raised his hand, pushing the drink right up against your mouth. “It’s too sweet for Shin-chan, so he’s probably not going to be able to finish it!”

“W-Wait, but I didn’t even ask if it’s okay-!”

A smattering of red bloomed across Midorima’s cheeks as he realized that your lips were touching exactly where his lips were earlier.

“T-That’s acceptable.” He managed to eek out as he tilted his gaze to the left, avoiding the knowing look Takao was sending his way.

“Thanks so much Mido-kun, you’re the best!!”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to slap Takao or begrudgingly thank him for his antics.

Aomine

“Satsuki, hand me the juice.” Aomine muttered, one arm slung over his eyes as he yawned. It was lunchtime, the sun was nice outside…perfect time for a nap. He’d been too lazy to go buy his food himself, and despite the multitude of complaints from the pink-haired manager, she still acted as a courier for his drinks and snacks.

“Oh, actually it’s _____, Aomine-kun.”

Aomine’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice, his body immediately reacting as he jerked himself into a sitting position. The sun was directly shining into his eyes as he swore under his breath, feeling slight whiplash from how quickly he righted himself. “What the fuck?!”

You smiled sheepishly as you climbed the ladder to the top of the roof, gesturing to the bag held in you left hand. “Momoi-chan was called away for something, so I volunteered to drop stuff off for you.”

Aomine rubbed the back of his neck nervously, clearing his throat. “Ah, you didn’t have to do that…”

“No worries! I actually wanted to find this secret spot you were talking about!” You were about to sit down before you hesitated. “Well, if it’s okay for me to be here, or I can leave…”

“N-No, you can stay!” Aomine cringed as he listened to the way he stuttered-he was acting like some kindergartener kid with a crush on the cutest girl in the school.

“Oh, perfect!” You brightened up immediately, plopping down next to Aomine, completely ignoring the way his cheeks flushed slightly as you brushed up against him. “I feel so honored to be here! I can see why you like it, it’s quiet, and warm…perfect for a nap.”

“Yeah, I suppose…” Clearing his throat, Aomine busied himself with digging through the bag and fishing out the drinks. “Uh, thanks for bringing all of this.” Trying to hide his embarrassment, he opened one of the drinks, easily chugging down half of its contents.

“You’re welcome! Oh, but…” You pout, swiping the bottle out of his hands. “That was the one I wanted to try!”

Before he even had a chance to say anything, you had already placed the bottle to your lips, helping yourself to the drink. “Oh, this is delicious!”

Aomine’s mouth gaped open slightly as he watched how you licked your lips before handing the bottle back to him. “It was delicious, Aomine-kun~"

—

Masterpost

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[soonwoosz]

!new couple¡ jeno × reader

Jeno: Meet me in the music room in 10 minutes :)

Y/N: Why?

*seen*

You furrowed your eyebrows, seeing Jeno's activity status turn from an 'online' to 'offline' in just a second after he saw your message.

"What's wrong?" You looked up to see your friends looking over, concerned.

"Nothing, I'm gonna make a move first. Jeno wants me to meet him in the music room now," You smiled, picking your bag up.

They gasped. "It's only been a week, I didn't know you guys liked things fast." Your friend smirked, another wiggling their eyebrows.

"Stop it! I've already said we're taking things slow," You teasingly nudged them, taking a few steps away before turning back. "and he's a very respectful guy!" They giggled.

.

"Jeno?" You peeked in, seeing your boyfriend seated on one of the chairs with a guitar on his lap.

"You're here! Come come, I saved a seat for you," His eye smile showed itself, melting your heart one too many times. It felt like a dream, although you've been together for a week now, it still feels as if it's the first time you meet whenever you see him.

Shutting the door behind you, you quickly made your way over to him; his gentle-man self immediately taking your bag from your shoulder and placing it on the floor.

"I stayed up last night writing this song for you, come listen!" He picked up his guitar and made it comfortable on his lap while you took your seat across him, knees touching.

"Really? You shouldn't have, is that why you fell asleep in class just now?" You playfully hit his arm. "Yes, and also partially because I couldn't stand Mr Lee's teaching, it's as if he's teaching a kindergarten class with his 3 plus 4s." You chuckled.

He looked down at the guitar strings, adjusting his fingers and finally, strumming.

"I don't really know what's right, but I could never call you wrong. I just wanna dance with you, floating over marble floors."

You watched in awe, the sound of Jeno's deep voice filling your ears, yet it suited the slow-pace tune so well.

You were snapped back into reality when he suddenly cleared his throat, expression turned frustrated as he rearranged his fingers on the right chords.

"Is the guitar out of tune? This doesn't sound right.." You heard him whisper under his breath. If it weren't for the silent room, you probably wouldn't have heard it.

Your attention, however, was caught when Jeno tucked his bottom lip below his teeth, unknowingly biting on it while he focused on his task.

At one point, you swore you felt honey dripping off his lips. Was it because of the lighting? Or was it just your imagination.

You frowned, disliking the expression of building anger on his face.

In an impulsive move, you suddenly reached out and cupped his face by the sides, pulling it closer.

At the same time, your lips seemed to have a mind of it's own, moving straight towards the skin right beside his plump, cherry red ones.

When you pulled away, you yourself were shocked. No doubt Jeno was too.

He let out a sound of confusion, similar to the whimper of a puppy.

Your hands fell down and retracted back to your mouth, gasping.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-" You took a deep breath. "IjustsawthatyouwerefrustratedandI'mverythankfulforwhatyoudidformeandIjustdidn'twantyoutogetmadatyourselfformessingupthechordssoIjustdidthefirstthingIthoughtofandI-" you rambled on.

However, you felt your own breath hitch when you felt a warm, soft muscle touch your lips. It didn't take you long to figure out it was his lips on yours.

The sensation caused your eyes to shut, revelling in the feeling of butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and a heavy, thumping feeling in your chest.

When he pulled away, you were, most definitely, in shock. Maybe there was drool pooling in your mouth, maybe not, it all felt too unreal at that point.

"Y/N?" Jeno shook you.

You quickly closed your mouth, taking in deep breaths.

"I...I uhh, I liked that. I like you." Your brain turned into liquid. He laughed.

"I like you too. Pretty sure that's why I'm your boyfriend." He patted your head, caressing it.

Your arms instinctively went over to wrap around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thank you for the song. I really appreciate it too." You mumbled into his neck, knowing your face was too deep a shade of red to face him properly.

happy valentines day everyone~ digital roses for all of you 🌹🌹

[lawluaficionado]

Enjoy! Pls follow me on Twitter lol @ Ooopsss_OT9

*-*-*-*-*-*

Cora's kindergarten teacher stands there with a frown on her face as she speaks to Luffy about his son's behavior...again...for the third time that week.

If it's not that he doesn't seem to listen, it's that he doesn't sit still. Or that he's too quiet or that he doesn't seem to want to play with the other kids. Or that he doesn't want to eat. On the rare occasion that he corrects her, it's even worse.

Usually.

But today, Luffy was called in because his little Cora just punched a kid in the face. And this tracher here just looks like she's waiting for Luffy to reprimand the boy in front of her.

With his blinding smile, he holds his little boy on his lap and asks him, "Why did you hit someone today?"

Cora plays with the hem of his shirt, he just shakes his head. Then he looks back at his teacher and back at his papa. He whispers in his ear, "Said I have ugly spots on my arms."

Luffy nods in understanding, "Ahh then it's okay! You have to defend yourself, right?"

It breaks his heart a little to hear that.

His son smiles then, and weakly nods.

"What?!" the teacher screeched. "I'm about to have him removed from my class for this, unacceptable behavior."

Luffy ignores her, "Next time Cora, aim your strong punches at their eye." He laughs as his son seems to start getting less devastated.

They leave then, Luffy in a rush to talk to Law about this new little bump in the day.

The teacher was livid. 'Obviously nothing gets done when she calls that parent in!' she thinks. Pulling out Cora's emergency contact card, she looks for the other parent's number. "Maybe then mute kid will actually correct his behavior!"

She calls, see waits and finally gets a hold of Dr. Trafalgar. Who just calmly stated he'd be there shortly.

Law would drop everything to go to his son. And as soon as he gets the call, he cancels his afternoon consultations and is on his way to his Cora's school.

He knows about certain behaviors that the teacher hates about his little baby. And he's never gotten the opportunity to actually speak with her.

But then Luffy messages him, so he blows off the meeting to go to the ice cream shop with his husband and son.

It's not like he isn't dedicated to his son's school life. Is just that Luffy has banned him from attending any school functions. Honestly...valid.

This was Cora's third school. And it's not because of their son...

Luffy has a track record of punching and name calling some of the other parents. And well Law doesn't do well with authority. Also he may or may not have threatened the school's principle with various forms of torture. Nothing was proven and no charges were filed.

Needless to say, they both came to an agreement (Luffy) that the more likable, happy go lucky parent would be the one accompanying Cora to all his school functions.

So, not Law.

When he reaches the little hole in the wall ice cream shop, he spots his son happily eating spoonfuls of a banana split. Luffy, uncharacteristically, isn't eating anything.

He greets them by kissing both their cheeks, but sits at his son's side.

"Sorry I was a tad late Lu-ya. Traffic was horrendous."

"Daddy, papa said that you are going to get me anything I want today!" his little joy smiles.

"Is that so? What could possibly be the reason?" he stares at his smaller husband.

The other laughs, "He defended himself today!"

That was a big feat indeed! Especially for their quiet baby.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"That teacher has it out for him," Luffy grumbles as he preps his lunch for tomorrow.

Cora is in the living room playing with their two dogs, and watching over his baby brother, Ace.

Luffy continues, "She smells of obnoxious high end soap, looks uptight and hates my son. That's more than enough reason to change schools."

"Again, love?" Law sips his coffee. "It's almost the end of April. He'd be even more stressed. Why can't Robin still be home schooling?" he too grumbles.

"She went back to teaching at the university."

"What about the school Sanji and Zoro's triplets go to?"

"That's really far from both our jobs."

"Zoro can pick him up. And we could always just get him afterwards."

Luffy pauses, "You know what that'd be perfect! Torao you're the bestest! And he'd probably get more out of his shell hanging out with the triplets!"

"So it's decided, next year he'll go there."

Suddenly Ace starts crying, and Cora comes running to his dads.

"Baby brother fell on the tile!"

Law calmly walks over, "You get your cry baby tendencies from your papa, Ace."

"Hey!" Luffy whines. "That's not true, I was tough, just ask Sabo."

"Papa, uncle Sabo said you cried a lot." Cora chimes in, smiling.

Luffy dramatically falls to the ground, "BETRAYED by my own son!"

Cora runs to jump on top of him, followed by a now calm Ace.

Law happily watches from the sidelines. "He's ticklish, just so you two know," he teasingly says.

Both his sons gets a knowing look on their faces, ready to attack their papa with tickles.

Luffy is at their mercy, loving every second.