as your pro hero boyfriend, shouto is just trying to get you home. too bad you’re too drunk to recognize him, and instead think that he’s just a shouto-lookalike, wannabe-hero trying to take advantage of you.
genre: established relationship au, pro hero!shouto | fluff
warnings: aged up characters, alcohol consumption, small mention of vomiting, but shouto is in love!!!! Ft. first i love yous!!!
word count: 3.2k
a/n: I feel like this is such a cliche trope… but i had an idea and wanted to write this :-) inspired by the prompt “I drunkenly tried to fight you and knocked myself out but you were kind enough to take care of me until i woke up”
When your friends call to tell Todoroki that you wouldn’t even be able to make it out of the club, he admits that he severely underestimates your condition. Granted, he isn’t super familiar with the effects of alcohol due to his busy schedule, but he likes to think that he has an idea of it from his friends. But he should have known better. Unlike his aforementioned pro-hero friends, his university student of a girlfriend has nothing else to fear but your own internal stress.
That explains your condition when he walks into the building, the bustling music and darkened environment making it difficult to navigate. But he eventually finds you in the back corner of the booth you and your friends have occupied for a majority of the night.
You’re leaning back in your seat, and you seem to have fallen asleep. Normally, the sight would draw out the coos and the quickening of his heart. But at this moment, he’s much more preoccupied with making sure that you’re okay.
“Baby?” he calls, crawling over the cushions as your friends move to allow him space to reach you. According to them, your deadweight is too much for them to handle and your alcohol-infused mind makes it difficult to communicate with you. You’re stubborn, they claim. He doesn’t know what they mean by that, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching over to gently grip onto your arm. “Baby, c’mon, let’s get you home.”
todoroki shoto x reader | taking care of drunk shoto
cw intoxication by alcohol, fluff, angst if you squint, shoto being lovesick and clingy and a little sad :(
[sho]: Hi love. Are you awake?
received 11:17pm
[sho]: i may have drunk a little. Kaaminri kept re fillong my cup
received 11:20pm
[sho]: I miss you.
received 11:40pm
[sho]: Can I come overr?
received 12:11am
“i think you may have drunk more than just a little,” you laugh, with shoto’s left arm slung over your shoulder. your right arm snakes behind his back, wrapping around his waist. shoto only hums as he slumps his head on top of yours, his weight heavy against your struggling body.
“okay. we’re almost there,” you say more to yourself than him. “just a little further.”
your staggering bodies stumble over to the living room, his sock-clad feet doing nothing but making the journey ten times harder. they slip every so often against the hardwood floors, and you have to haul him left and right just to make sure he doesn’t crack his head open from falling.
“alright, alright. there we go,” you huff out, gently lowering his loose body onto the couch. shoto hums again, nonsensically, as he sinks into the plush fabric.
but not before pulling you down with him.
you yelp in surprise as shoto lets out a soft oof when your body crashes onto his. you wince at the impact, one leg haphazardly over his, the other still awkwardly rooted to the floor. despite your position, he settles into his spot, using two strong arms to haul the rest of you up and to his chest.
he hardly seems bothered by the collision, letting his head fall back onto the cushion. but you still can’t help but ask worriedly, “are you okay? did that hurt—?”
“you’re pretty.”
a beat passes as you bite back a smile, turning your head up slowly. shoto’s already looking down at you, with flushed cheeks and messy bangs that flutter over his glassy eyes.
giggling, you shift on top of him, getting comfortable. your fingers come up to swipe his hair out of the way, his pale forehead now proudly displaying. a handsome sight.
he doesn’t blink at your movements, just simply stares at you in quiet awe.
you whisper, “baby, i think you’re drunk.”
“and i think you’re really pretty.”
his words come out blunt, slightly slurred. and your smile finally breaks across your face. you watch his eyebrows raise minutely, still in awe.
“do you get that feeling as well?” he asks, voice deep.
you tilt your head. “what feeling?”
shoto blinks. then he sighs, almost in frustration. “when you smile, my heart starts beating very fast. it concerns me sometimes. i think i should see a doctor.” he says this straightforwardly, very shoto. and is also completely oblivious to how endearing he sounds.
you perch your chin on his chest, looking at him with amused eyes.
“you’re being so cute right now, sho.”
“am i?”
nodding, your cheeks start aching from how hard you’ve been smiling. shoto tightens his arms around you, and you sink into his warm hold.
after a moment, you affirm him. “i get that feeling too.”
“you do?”
“mhm.”
shoto cocks his head to the side, serious as ever. “then i should give both our doctors a call tomorrow, no?”
this makes you laugh. teasing him, “i think it just means we love each other, no?”
shoto’s eyes then widen, odd astonishment written clearly on his face. it baffles you.
“you love me?” he asks quietly—in wonder.
your heart just about bursts. partly due to fondness, partly due to disbelief. “well, yes. i am your fiance,” you say affectionately, wiggling your hand up to flash the shiny ring on your left ring finger.
shoto takes your hand, brings it close to his face. he examines the ring, turning your fingers this way and that. after careful scrutiny, he pulls back, looking at you with fascination while exhaling slowly.
“i’m a lucky man,” he breathes out. so innocent in his reverence.
warmth swells in your chest. and another round of giggles escapes your lips, just as the smell of mint and sake hits your nose.
water, you abruptly think. should probably get him some water. that headache’s going to be mean tomorrow morning.
without warning, you squirm out of his arms and sit up. he follows, though clumsily.
“where are you going?” shoto asks, and you’re taken aback by the sudden alertness in his tone. you try to ease him onto the couch again, but he relents—stubborn.
“getting you some water,” you softly say, trying to be reassuring—trying to smooth out the sudden furrow in his eyebrows with your thumb. “i’ll be right back—”
“don’t leave me.”
you pause, eyes widening.
shouto’s eyes are glistening now, more than just an intoxicated sheen. and your heart drops at the subtle panic in his voice, your other hand coming up to cradle his cheek.
“no… no, i’m not leaving you. i just think you need some water right now—”
“can i come with you?” he asks lowly—shyly.
you shake your head, a little perplexed. “no my love, stay here on the couch. i’ll be quick—”
“please, don’t leave me,” he quickly says again, slurring.
your face twists, mouth soundlessly opening and closing as your mind tries to grapple with the sudden shift in mood.
he’s never usually like this. then again, he’s never usually drunk. but there’s an underlying tone in his voice, a desperation that seeps through—a little too raw. a little too real.
shoto chases after his own words before you can fully process them. “i love you. i know i have trouble expressing it. and i don’t say it enough, but i do. i really do…”
his hands grasp onto yours. an iron-grip hold. words tumble out of his mouth, his usual calmness far from seen, his usual quietness far from heard. you would've found it intriguing, if not for the utter dejection and anxiety on his face.
“you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says with furrowed eyebrows. “you see me for who i am. i love you. and i can’t imagine—”
alarm bells start going off in your head.
“hey…” you try to shush him. but his clutch tightens impossibly so, gleaming eyes never leaving yours.
“you showed me what love could be. what it should be. and i don’t want to ever lose you. i don’t want to mess this up—”
“shoto—”
he quickly cuts you off, breathing heavily. “perhaps i can change your mind? what can i do?”
the hopeless look in his eyes absolutely crushes you.
with a heavy heart, you stroke his hair, smoothing down the red and white tufts. it’s your first time seeing him like this, and it aches you to think that he would ever think you’d leave. even if this conversation was unfolding while he was drunk.
“sho, you don’t have to do anything—”
“but—”
“i’m not leaving,” you say firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. “i won’t ever leave. no matter what, okay?”
shoto blinks. then blinks again. his voice is quiet—tentative when he asks, “you mean it?”
“yes,” you say delicately, steeling your resolve when he searches your face.
moments pass. excruciatingly long moments. until finally, his shoulders relax, if just barely. you find yours untensing as well, as he tugs you onto his lap. you give in, because you can never find it in yourself not to when it comes to him.
landing sideways with a thump, his arms immediately encircle your waist, head nestling into the crook of your neck. you rub his back, trying to slow his breathing, feeling his erratic heartbeat through your palm.
“you’re not leaving?” he mutters into your skin.
“never.”
shoto sighs. thankfully, in what seems to be in relief. “you mean it? truthfully?”
you whisper, “yes.”
seconds tick by. your single, but assuring, words linger in the air.
then, softly, you hear:
“...you love me?”
you look up, blinking back tears, arms tightening around his head as you cradle him close. the quiver in your lip just won’t stop, and you hope to the stars that your voice won’t come out shaky.
“yes.”
after swallowing the ball in your throat, you gently lift his head, meeting his vulnerable gray and turquoise eyes.
“forever and always.”
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆｡˚ ⋆
after some time, shoto eventually calms down, the both of you not moving from your spot on the couch. a long debate ensues, the end result with him trailing behind you at 2am, gripping tightly onto one of your hands. your other hand solitarily moves around the kitchen: grabbing a cup, filling it with water, then bringing it up to his lips.
shoto sips, slowly. looking at you the whole time. doesn’t even notice that he finishes the entire cup until you pry it away. you convince him to drink another, and he nods wordlessly, like a puppy.
eventually, your feet pad quietly across the kitchen, and into your bedroom. eventually, he falls asleep in your arms, his intoxicated haze finally taking over. you stroke his hair tenderly, embrace him earnestly—hoping that even in his drunken sleep, he’ll be able to feel it:
thinking about how would shoto todoroki feel about becoming a father?
↳ 2.1k
↳ cw: established relationship, pregnancy, just an overview. fluffy and sweet.
🍑 masterlist | 🍒 ꒰ cross-posted on @/springismss ꒱
The air felt thick as you paced back and forth, chewing on your fingernail as you looked at the object on the bathroom countertop. You should be used to this feeling, but you still felt the same antagonising dread at what you would see. And much like every other time, you prayed that this one would be different.
The sound of the timer going off brought you out of your little ritual, feet bringing you to a stop in front of the object. Maybe you should leave it, pretend this wasn't happening once again and throw the stupid thing away. You knew what you were about to see, a sight all too familiar these past few years.
Taking a shaky breath, you reached forward and grabbed hold of the object, hand shaking slightly as you stalled for a moment. This was like every other time, so why were you feeling more anxious this time? Deciding it was best to get it over and done with, you quickly turned the object over, only to be met with the words you never thought would appear for you ever again.
‘Pregnant 3+’
Holding back a sob, you gripped the counter to ground yourself. This had to be a joke, right? A faulty test. Something just to get your hopes up before it was cruelly ripped away from you again. You didn't think you had it in you to go through that again.
A sudden knocking on the door brought you to your senses as you quickly wiped your eyes, hoping to catch any stray tears that had begun to fall. "My love? Are you okay? You've been there a while this time". Of course, they were worried; you could tell by how they sounded.
Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you turned and walked towards the door, placing your hand on the handle and opening it with a small click. You looked up, taking in the person in front of you, the person who was just as worried as you were.
Shoto Todoroki - your husband and the current number two pro hero.
"Sorry, my love, it took a little longer than I thought. I couldn’t find the towels…”. The look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you had been doing. Your ever attentive husband always knew when you were up to something, especially when it came to something like this.
It was no secret that despite his past, both you and Shoto wanted to expand your family with a child of your own. A child that would no doubt be showered with love and given a childhood the pro never had a chance to have.
"So, tell me...". More tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold back another sob, unable to find the right words to say. Shoto, used to the heartbreak as well, sighed out, crushed that yet another attempt, to him, had been unsuccessful. "It's okay, there's always next time".
His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him as he ran his hand through your hair. Trying to soothe you in one of the best ways he could. He knew it wasn't much, but it was the best he could do. Feeling powerless, even as your husband was a gut-wrenching feeling
"Sho, I'm pregnant". He looked at your teary eyes in shock as your words slowly began to sink in, looking down at your outstretched hand that held the test. A big smile tugged at his lips as he cupped your face, kissing you softly.
♡ Month 2 ♡
The feeling of being on cloud nine never left for you both, although Shoto was slightly wary. Sure, his relationship with his father was slowly getting better, but due to his childhood and upbringing, he was always left second-guessing himself.
What if he fucked up? What if he didn't fall into the role of being a father? Those questions stayed at the back of his mind, regardless of how much he pushed them aside. "Shoto, I still can't believe we're going to be parents".
Looking down at your belly, you smiled and rubbed your hand over your still soft stomach. As the days passed, it felt more like a dream. Sure, you'd suffered with the morning sickness, the bouts of fatigue, but you knew it would be worth it in the end. "We can't wait to see you, little one!".
The dual-haired male looked at you and smiled. He knew you'd support him in this journey; his past couldn't define how he was as a dad. Only he could, and with you by his side, he knew you would always cheer him on.
♡ Month 3 ♡
A blank screen greeted the two of you as you both entered a room, exchanging greetings with the sonographer.
Today was the day the two of you would get to see your child for the first time. Various 'what ifs' ran through your mind as you gripped Shoto's hand. His eyes looked into yours in a silent promise that everything would be okay. He knew you wouldn’t be able to handle another heartbreak.
Lying yourself down, you got comfortable and closed your eyes as you waited for a sign that everything was fine. That the life growing inside you was still there and stronger than ever. The lump in your throat growing dangerously until you heard it.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
That small sound made you open your eyes, tears lining your waterline as you saw the tiny life on the screen. A slight squeeze of your hand drew your attention to Shoto, his eyes shining as he looked at your child.
"A perfectly happy and healthy baby. Such a strong heartbeat already".
Both of you smiled at each other, the tears finally slipping down the sides of your face as you took in the image. The lump that had been there moments ago was slowly disappearing as you gazed at the screen.
♡ Month 4 ♡
A small bump had begun to appear, your body finally starting to show the presence of the small life you were carrying. Your hand never left your bump whenever you had the time to touch it. "I guess I look kind of pregnant now".
Looking down, you smiled and wrapped your arms around your husband, your eyes meeting his before you closed yours slightly, falling into a much-needed sleep.
Gazing over you, then down to where you were starting to swell, Shoto’s eyes flashed in slight worry before returning to normal, gently placing a hand on yours, careful not to wake your sleeping form.
He wasn't going to lie, he was scared. Scared of what was to come and the type of father he'd be. No one could blame him, not even you, but you'd support him no matter what.
♡ Month 5 ♡
Facing the ultrasound screen again, the pair of you chatted amongst yourselves, having the odd argument about the gender of your child. Of course, you didn't mind what you were having, but it was nice to have a little friendly bet on who would be right.
The small image of your child appeared on the screen again as your hearts began thumping in disbelief, the high you felt gazing on the small life never leaving. Everything was perfect and normal, even seeing what looked like a small wave or two.
"Now, would you like to know the gender?". You both looked at each other, nodding with a smile. It might have seemed like a stupid question, one that others would most likely say no to, but to you and Shoto, it would mean you would get to prepare for what was to come.
"Well, I can tell you both, you're having a perfectly healthy baby-".
♡ Month 6 ♡
Clothes. Toys. Essentials.
You name it, it began to pile up as you started to finally prepare properly for the arrival of your child. Emotions had began to run high, and if it wasn't floods of tears, it was hot tempers. Your hormones weren't helping you whatsoever, as the slightest thing would set you off.
Shoto walked into the bedroom to find you curled up on the bed, a small baby grow hugged to your chest as you sobbed. In an obvious panic, he ran over and held you close to him after he sat down. "Hey, baby, what's wrong?".
That sentence, despite coming from a good place, made you cry harder, muffled sobbing sounding against his chest.
Turns out you were emotional over the fact that a small baby could fit into that piece of clothing.
♡ Month 7 ♡
Shoto's family gushed over you continually, making sure you were safe and comfortable whenever you visited them with Shoto.
Fuyumi and Rei would excitedly touch your bump, asking a variety of questions. Gossiping and sharing stories of how Shoto was as a baby, some making you laugh at your husband’s embarrassment.
Natsuo would spend time with Shoto, casually talking about life with his younger brother. Especially how he was feeling regarding the upcoming arrival and, despite not being a father himself, encouraging him to enjoy the years ahead.
Enji, on the other hand, would sit back and watch on. Taking in the buzz around him with a somewhat contented smile on his face. He still has a bit of a way to go before he could be a part of the family unit.
♡ Month 8 ♡
Things became more painful and tiring for you as your body ached. You wanted nothing more than for the heavy feeling to go away and have your baby in your arms. Showering them with all the cuddles and kisses you could manage. "It won't be long now, I promise, darling".
You looked up a little and smiled, the overwhelming tiredness visible on your face. He hated not being able to help you, take away the pain you felt, the uneasiness, but most of all the worry. The worry that something was going to go wrong, regardless of you both making it this far.
Resting a hand on your swollen belly, you felt the strong movements as you hummed out. Taking hold of your husband's hand, you rested it on the place you had your hand moments ago, just in time to feel a kick.
"I hope so, Shoto. I just want to meet our little one".
♡ Month 9 ♡
A new cry pierced the silence of the room, ringing loud and clear as you gripped onto Shoto. The two of you smiled as tears slipped down your faces. The emotions you felt finally crashed through you at once. "You did it, my love! I'm so proud of you".
Shoto placed soft kisses on your dazed face as a small bundle was placed into your arms. The baby moved around slightly, settling down on the softness of its mother's skin, beginning its first feed. Eyes opening slightly before shutting, suckling away.
"White hair with red tips, gorgeous blue eyes. She's definitely a Todoroki".
You looked up as Shoto sat down beside you, giving a tired smile as you nodded your head. The past months had been a whirlwind. Despite the tiring time you’d just been through and the way your body ached, this moment made it worth every single second.
♡ The First Year ♡
The tiring nights. The endless amount of changes and feeds.
Shoto couldn't deny it; it was hard. Really hard. He constantly second-guessed himself, and he didn't feel like he was good enough. Even during those doubtful times, you encouraged him as his biggest supporter, be that through words or actions, you always made sure he was okay.
Things became slightly easier, and cuddles and kisses became more frequent as your daughter grew. New milestones and wonders greeted you all. Even Shoto's family adored their niece and granddaughter. Especially Enji, who took his time, taking great care not to mess up this time around.
Then came the words.
The day she said "Dada".
Shoto sat crying. Normally, he wasn't one for showing emotion, but the moment she said that, he couldn't hold back. From the moment he found out you were finally pregnant to the first time holding his beautiful daughter, he couldn't believe he could be a dad, yet he was such a perfect dad to this little girl who couldn't help but adore the very ground he walked on.
Picking her up, he gently rocked the small girl as her eyes slowly closed, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.
"I've got you, princess. Daddy will keep you safe. I'll always be your number one hero, no matter what happens".
thinking about boyfriend! shoto todoroki when it's that time of the month for you.
↳ 0.9k
↳ cw: mention of period/pms symptoms, established relationship, just fluff
🍑 masterlist | 🍒 request based on this ask
It should have been obvious from the moment you felt those back twinges. The dull ache deep within your muscles that wasn't from exercising or doing your job, but something else stirring beneath the surface.
It should have been obvious from the moment you stared at your face to see yet another spot join the ones already present on your skin, making your confidence dip slightly.
It should have been obvious from the moment you began to notice a change in your appetite, something that was out of the ordinary for you.
And it should have been obvious with how snappy and moody you'd been the past few days, even snapping at your boyfriend, who was an innocent party. A boyfriend you dragged yourself to say sorry to before bursting into tears.
It should have been obvious, but it wasn't until the moment you got the cramps. The pain was enough to make you want to vomit as you groaned, thigh muscles dully aching as you hugged yourself.
Of all the times to start your period, it was the time when you weren't prepared. You blamed being busy for the festive season, but still, for it to catch you off guard was horrific.
Rushing home, you quickly unlocked the door and slammed it shut with your foot as you ran towards your bedroom. Dumping the bags in your hand in the corner, you rushed towards your dresser to grab your period comfort pjs before you rushed into the bathroom.
Taking a moment to clean yourself up with a quick shower, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, huffing slightly. "Now it all makes fucking sense".
Just as the words left your lips, a wave of pain crashed over you again as you hissed, breathing softly, trying to help the pain pass. As it slowly ebbed, you grabbed your phone and sent a quick message to your boyfriend before dragging your heavy legs over to your bed, taking refuge under the covers as you curled up.
On the other side of the city, a phone chimed as the owner picked it up. Their eyes scanned the message sent before they stopped what they were doing, taking the rest of the day off to be where they were needed.
The sound of the door clicking open then shut echoed slightly through the apartment as dual-coloured eyes scanned the surroundings. The air was still, and oddly calm. Todoroki knew you had to be here; your shoes at the door told him so.
Quickly checking each room, he saw nothing until he reached the bedroom. The room he shared with you each night and morning, you had to be in there.
Pushing the door open, he glanced at the lump in the middle of the bed and smiled softly to himself. "Bingo".
Stepping forward, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the sheets down, the mattress sinking under his weight. There he saw you curled in a ball, as a soft smile tugged at his lips, the kind of smile only you got to see.
Your body sensing the eyes on you, you slowly began to stir, vision focusing slowly until you came face-to-face with Shoto. Letting out a small whimper, you pulled yourself up slightly as you reached out a hand.
The second he grabbed your hand with his left; you yanked him down and pressed his hand against your lower stomach. The heat radiating off it made you sigh in relief as you felt the pain ease, the cramps slowly disappear as you melted into his touch. "Hello to you too, my love".
Giving a sheepish grin, you pressed your hand over his and looked at him. "Sorry, Sho, it's bad, and you were the only thing that would help. Also, hi".
A low chuckle sounded from him as you looked away, embarrassed at your desperation for relief. Bringing his free hand up, he cupped your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. Closing your eyes, you relaxed more, kissing him back softly.
After a few seconds, you broke apart, letting out a sigh. "So I take it you're not in pain anymore then?".
Shaking your head, you hummed softly as you rubbed your thumb across the back of his hand. "Not any more, thanks to the most amazing hot water bottle, I mean, boyfriend ever. Although...".
Before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Shoto smiled wider and hushed you with another kiss. "I know for a fact what you're about to say, you're carving something, but you don't know what".
Nodding your head, you watched as he stood, hand pulling away from your body with a whine of desperation. He quickly grabbed the covers and pulled them back over you, tucking you in slightly. "I'll be back before you know it, with all of your favourites. We can even have a lazy day and watch whatever you want".
Quirking a brow, you opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a deep chuckle. "Yes, it's fine. I've taken a few days off to spend them helping you get over the worst of it".
The feeling in your chest swelled as you looked at Shoto, a smile tugging at your lips. "If I could leap onto you and hug you tight, I would, but I'll squeeze you extra hard when we cuddle. Deal?".
The mattress dipped under his weight once more, as a small kiss was pressed beside your ear. "It's a deal, sweetheart".
⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ KISS AND MAKE UP ! 🧸ྀི — dongmin’s way to comfort you after a fight is pretty simple (and works like a charm) ( word count 601)
[ extras ] kissing, crying, fluff/comfort
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! i have another banger of an idea w taesannie otw plspls jingle jingle pay attention stay tuned okay!?also someone said he’s totally the type to grab ur neck and guide u into a kiss and guess what. i dig that.
@k-records (っ- ‸ - ς)⠀
dongmin couldn't handle it.
neither could you.
he was sitting in the bedroom, trying to focus on reels playing in his phone. trying to distract himself from thoughts gnawing on his mind like a dog starved.
you, on the other hand, were in the kitchen. sitting on the counter top, with gaze stuck at the boiling water.
the argument you had was silly, really. you were annoyed already, he was tired. he made a mess after you had just cleaned, you raised your voice when you shouldn't have.
and now guilt was consuming you both, resulting in you giving him the silent treatment. which you knew was bad but you couldn't bring yourself not to. you didn't even know what to say; was sorry enough?
the water boiled.
you put pasta in it and set a timer, observing the lively bubbles calming down.
"hey."
your eyes didn't budge. you felt ashamed to even look at dongmin.
he sighed softly, walking up to you.
you let him.
taking out his hands from his pockets, he placed them on your thighs. there was silence, only the sound of water bubbling between you two. he opened your thighs and stood between your legs, scanning your face.
"can we talk?" he asked. the softness of his voice made your gut dip with guilt even deeper. you shouldn't have yelled at him. he was so kind after you did and still–
you felt his hand making its way to the back of your neck, guiding your head towards him. his forehead rested against yours, hair gently brushing your skin. you closed your eyes, feeling a lump creating in your throat already.
"are you still mad at me?" dongmin questioned, voice calm as gentle breeze on a sunday morning.
"no" you croaked out.
"good" he huffed and before you knew it, his hands guided you by the neck to meet his lips.
once again, you allowed him.
the kiss was slow, pouring wordless apology from both of you. your hands found themselves seeking for him desperately, which just resulted in clutching his black top. he didn't rush but his hands on your neck guided you to deepen the kiss, angling your head in a way that allowed your lips to align comfortably.
only when he felt your breathing getting rigged and salty droplets on his tongue, he pulled away. not too far, he didn't want to.
his features softened and his hands slid from the nape of your neck to cup your tear stained cheeks.
"i-i'm sorry" you choked out, lower lip quivering. "i shouldn't have yelled. i just had a bad day…"
he stroked your skin in a reassuring motion, swallowing hard.
"and then i just… was too guilty to say anything. i'm sorry, dongmin" you sobbed. "i feel awful"
"it's my fault too. i'm sorry." he replied gently, wiping the falling pearly tears with his thumb.
"let's not fight over stupid stuff again" you sniffed and grabbed his wrists tenderly, looking up at him teary-eyed.
"and let's not do silent treatment, hm? i hated every second of that" he teased, canines poking out in a cat-alike smirk.
you just huffed, turning your head away.
"hey, don't sulk or i'll have to kiss it away again"
you just let go of his wrists and pulled him closer by his shirt.
"don't mind if you do" you whispered shyly and dongmin's hands sneaked once again to the back of your head, this time leading the kiss more passionately. your teeth clanked and you giggled through the kiss, tears already drying out in the corners of your eyes.
sae itoshi who can’t sleep without a sleeping mask. no matter how pitch-black it is, or how calming the atmosphere is, he cannot sleep without something stuck onto his eyes.
and how cliché, the day before one of his most important games, it’s already well past his usual bedtime that he realised he forgot his sleeping mask on the airplane. he thought about calling his manager, no— it’s childish to ask for a sleeping mask. he thought about driving out to a store, no— it’ll take too long, he won’t get enough sleep when he’s back at the hotel.
sae groaned in frustration, cursing under his breath before you called out to him.
“baby? what’s wrong?” you stepped behind him, both hands landing on his shoulders before giving them a light squeeze.
he cleared his throat, though not looking at you, eyes still stuck on his bag that certainly did not contain his sleeping mask in.
“forgot my sleeping mask on the plane. i won’t- ahem, i can’t sleep without it.” he zipped up his bag, leaning his body onto yours as one of your hands trailed up to his head, caressing it softly before you pressed a kiss onto it. “i have an idea.” you mumbled against his head, to which he cocks his head to the side to show interest.
and thats how you both landed in this position. cuddling while facing each other, but this time sae was the little spoon. your arms would wrap around him protectively, just like how he’d do with you. his face was buried into your chest, providing the darkness and the physical contact to his eyes warmly while both of his arms wrapped around your waist. to this day, he still claims that it was purely for “efficiency.” but he’d rather die then tell anyone that it was the best sleep he’d ever had in his life.
three months drag by like a slow, sweaty eternity, and you spend every single day of it being the most insufferable version of yourself known to mankind.
the heat gets worse.
your ankles disappear completely.
and the cravings hit nuclear levels.
once you cry actual tears because the only thing that will fix your life is fried chicken at 3 am in madrid.
sae just sighs, finds some 24 hour spot run by a japanese guy in malasaña, and shows up with a bag of karaage without a single complaint. he never complains out loud anymore; he just does it.
you'd spent most of the second trimester bouncing between japan and spain because you tell him, tears streaming, that if you don’t breathe cool air and eat decent rice soon you’re going to lose your mind and it’ll be his fault.
he books the tickets that same night.
first class, because “if you’re going to be a pain you might as well be a comfortable one.” two weeks in tokyo with your parents, eating actual decent ramen and sleeping under air conditioning that didn't make sae complain about the “arctic levels.”
he'd come with you for one of those trips, grumbling the whole flight about jet lag and how the baby better not decide to come early because "japanese hospitals are fine but i already picked the one here." you just patted his cheek and told him to shut up and enjoy the trip.
sae trains at some local park every morning and pretends he’s not enjoying the humidity break.
but he never budges on the birth place. “madrid” he says every single time you bring up having the baby in japan. “better doctors & fits our schedule.”
you call him a dictator.
he calls you annoying.
and somehow you both end up making out on the couch five minutes later because hormones are undefeated.
now you're back in madrid, waddling around in one of sae's old shirts because nothing else fits.
sae’s been… different these last few weeks. quieter than usual, which is saying something. he still goes to training, still watches film.
he’s reading baby books now, fixing the crib he assembled himself (which is highly surprising to be honest).
“i swear if this baby doesn’t come out soon i’m gonna kick him out myself.”
sae doesn’t even look up from his laptop. “you still have four days until the due date. stop threatening our son.”
when you’re thirty nine weeks and the contractions start in the middle of the night, when the first one hits, just a tight, low cramp that makes you sit straight up and go "oh shit."
you shake him awake already crying. “it’s time, it’s time, oh shit. i’m not ready, i want my mom.”
sae sits up instantly, zero grogginess, like his body was waiting for this exact moment. “you’ll have her,” he says, voice calm as ever while he’s already pulling on clothes. “both of them. i booked the flights yesterday.”
you blink through the pain. “you—what?”
“your mom and mine. they land in an hour. stop crying, you’ll need the energy to scream at me later.”
turns out he’d secretly arranged everything the second you hit full term because he knew without you saying it again—that you didn’t want to do this with just him.
he knew you’d be scared and irrational and want your mom’s hand to squeeze. he just didn’t tell you because “you would’ve spent weeks overthinking it.”
he doesn't panic. of course he doesn't. just pulls on sweatpants, and starts moving like he's done this a thousand times. hospital bag already packed for weeks, his doing.
texts the driver, and guides you to the door while you’re doubled over breathing like a dying whale.
the ride to the hospital is a blur of you gripping his hand hard enough to bruise and him murmuring, “breathe, in through the nose, out through the mouth, you’ve got this” in that low, calming voice he uses.
your mom and his mom are already in the waiting room when you arrive—sae texted them from the car. both of them start crying the second they see you.
and suddenly the fancy private hospital room in madrid feels like a family reunion nobody planned.
your mom holds your left hand.
his mom holds your right.
sae stands by your head looking pale for the first time in his life, and you cussed him out while pushing. he takes every insult without flinching, just keeps wiping your forehead with a cold cloth and muttering “you’re doing fine, keep going, almost there.”
and then your son is out, screaming bloody murder with dark red hair that’s one hundred percent sae’s fault, and the room goes dead quiet for one second before everyone loses it.
you’re sobbing.
the moms are sobbing.
sae is staring at the baby like he’s seeing the meaning of life.
he cuts the cord with hands that don’t shake at all, which pisses you off because you’re a mess and he’s still unfairly perfect. the nurse puts the baby on your chest and sae leans over both of you, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard for once.
“good job” he whispers, kissing your head. “he’s perfect.”
you’re too exhausted to speak so you just cry harder and nod.
you’re currently propped up in the fancy hospital bed two days postpartum, sore in places you didn’t know existed, staring at your son sleeping in the bassinet like he’s the most unreal thing you’ve ever seen.
sae is sitting beside you, shirt unbuttoned because the baby just ate and spit up on him, scrolling through his phone with one hand and holding yours with the other.
“your mom lands thursday morning” he says without looking up. “i got the car seat installed in the range and the guest room ready. stop bouncing your leg, you’ll wake him.”
“i’m excited,” you mumble, eyes still glued to the tiny rise and fall of your son’s chest. “i want her to properly meet him when he’s still all squishy and new. and i want her to make me food and tell me i’m doing okay because right now i feel like i’m going to break him.”
sae sets his phone down, leans over, and kisses your temple. “you’re not going to break him. you made him. and you’re already the most annoying, demanding, impossible mother on earth, which means he’s going to be just fine.”
you snort, wiping your eyes. “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“yeah, yeah” he mutters, but his thumb keeps rubbing circles on the back of your hand, and he doesn’t move even when the baby starts fussing.
you smile through the exhaustion, heart so full it hurts. “we’re parents, sae.”
he looks at the baby, then at you, teal eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “yeah,” he says quietly. “we are.”
someone on tik tok said sae is hachiware and it’s soo real >⩊<
you’re face down on the couch in sae’s madrid apartment, groaning into a pillow that smells like his stupid expensive detergent, when he walks in.
you don’t even hear the door at first because you’re too busy dying dramatically about the email you just got—another deadline moved up, your boss being a bitch, the usual thursday nightmare. you’re muttering curses in three different languages when his shoes appear in your line of vision.
“get up.”
you flip the pillow off your face just enough to glare at him with one eye. “no. i live here now. bury me here.”
he’s still in his training kit, hair damp, cheeks a little flushed from the cold outside. he looks annoyingly good, as usual. he crouches down so you’re eye level, expression flat as ever.
“we leave in four hours.”
you blink. “leave for where? the kitchen? because i’m not cooking, you can starve.”
“maldives.”
you sit up so fast you almost headbutt him. “what?”
he pulls two tickets out of his jacket pocket and flicks them onto your lap like he’s tossing you junk mail. first class, malé departure tonight. your name is already printed next to his.
you stare at the tickets. then at him. then back at the tickets.
“sae. be serious.”
“i am.”
“you can’t just—maldives? like the actual maldives? overwater bungalow, turquoise water, instagram aesthetic maldives?”
he shrugs. “you kept sending me those reels last month. the ones with the stupid fish and the swings in the water. you said, and i quote, ‘i would sell my kidney to wake up there.’”
you did say that. you were crying over a video of a stingray because they’re faces are just so cute.
“so you… booked it?”
“yes.”
“without telling me?”
“surprises are supposed to be surprises.”
you’re still holding the tickets like they might disappear. “sae, i have work tomorrow. i have a 9 am call. i don’t even have a swimsuit here that isn’t from 2019.”
he stands up, already walking toward the bedroom. “i packed for you last night. your stuff’s in the black suitcase.”
you follow him on autopilot. sure enough, there’s a suitcase by the door you’ve never seen before, tag already on it, your passport in the front pocket like this is normal.
“you went through my underwear drawer?”
“you own too many cartoon patterns. i left the kuromi ones.”
you’re going to combust. “how long have you been planning this?”
“three weeks.”
“three weeks?! and you didn’t say anything?”
he glances back, one eyebrow raised. “you cry when you’re excited. i didn’t want to deal with it for three weeks.”
fair. but still.
you launch yourself at him, arms around his neck, legs kicking. he catches you without staggering, hands automatically going to your thighs like this is routine.
“you’re insane,” you mumble into his shoulder. “i love you so much i’m actually mad at you.”
“noted.” his voice is muffled in your hair. “shower. we leave soon.”
the flight is eleven hours and he doesn’t sleep the whole time, just watches three movies in a row and chibi maruko-chan and let’s you have his desert because it “ruins” his diet.
you wake up somewhere over the indian ocean with his hoodie over you like a blanket and his hand resting on your thigh, thumb moving in slow circles.
when you land in malé it’s already dark, but the air smells like salt and flowers and freedom. a private speedboat takes you to the resort—some insane place with glass floors and an infinity pool that drops straight into the ocean.
your villa is literally in the middle of the sea, stairs leading directly into the water.
you stand on the deck screaming quietly (because it’s 2 am and you don’t want to scare anyone) while sae leans against the railing, arms crossed, watching you like you’re a particularly entertaining documentary.
“this is disgusting,” you say, spinning in circles. “this is obscene. how much did this cost?”
“don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
you run and jump on him again. he lets you. he always lets you.
the next morning you wake up to sunlight on water so clear it looks photoshopped. sae’s side of the bed is empty, but you hear the shower running. you’re halfway through stealing his tshirt when he walks out, towel low on his hips, hair dripping.
“morning,” he says.
“morning, person who kidnapped me to paradise.”
you spend the day doing absolutely nothing. you swim until your fingers prune. you make him snorkel even though he complains the mask is “uncomfortable” and then spend twenty minutes floating while pointing out every fish like you’re david attenborough.
“that one’s a parrotfish,” you says, voice muffled by the snorkel. those national geographic days paying off.
“a what?”
later you’re on the deck swing, legs in the water, when he comes up behind you with two cocktails that are 90% fruit and 10% alcohol.
“drink.”
“trying to get me drunk, itoshi?”
“you’re louder when you’re tipsy. it’s funny.”
you kick water at him. he doesn’t even flinch.
night falls and the staff lights lanterns all around the villa. you’re sunburnt and happy, lying on the outdoor daybed staring at the stars when he sits down next to you, still in his black swim trunks, hair salty and messy.
you roll onto your side to look at him. “why’d you really do this?”
he doesn’t answer right away. just looks out at the water, the reflection of the moon broken into a million pieces.
“you were tired,” he says finally. “you stopped laughing. you always laugh.”
your chest feels too small for your heart.
“sae.”
“hm?”
“i’m laughing now.”
he turns his head. the lantern light catches the side of his face, makes his eyes look almost soft.
“good,” he says. then quieter, “don’t stop.”
you crawl into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, hands in his damp hair.
“thank you,” you whisper against his mouth.
he kisses you slow, lazy, tasting like pineapple and salt. one hand on your waist, the other sliding up your back.
“you’re annoying when you’re happy,” he mutters.
“you like it.”
“shut up.”
it’s enough.
(later, when you’re half asleep tangled in sheets that probably cost more than your rent, he says into your hair, voice so quiet you almost miss it—
“stay happy.”
you pretend you didn’t hear so he doesn’t get embarrassed.
but you hold him a little tighter and he lets you.)
Your fingertip presses gently into the soft, yielding fat of the slumbering baby's cheek. It's light enough not to wake her as she sleeps in the bassinet below you, though her little pink lips do part slightly under the pressure.
You glance up over your shoulder at Shoto, standing just behind you as the two of you watch your daughter sleep.
"Were you that squishy?"
Shoto's lips purse.
"Touya used to say I looked like a steamed bun."
You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing, at risk of waking the baby girl you'd only just managed to lull to sleep for the night. You turn yourself around, pressing your face into Shoto's broad chest--bare, thanks to the spit-up that had ended up on his shoulder thanks to the squishy little baby behind you a few minutes prior (which you really ought to thank her for.)
"Why are you laughing?" Shoto asks as you hide your giggles against his warm skin.
You lift your face to peek up at him, still giggling lightly. Shoto's hands brush gently up and down your back. Your daughter sleeps soundly, her little breaths even in the stillness of the nursery.
"I need to see more of your baby pictures," you chirp.
He shrugs slightly. "My mother can show you as many as you'd like."
You crane up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to the side of his mouth, and he tilts his face towards you to chase it but you pull away just before he can.
There's a knock on your door at 3:30PM on the dot.
It's a Sunday, and you're not expecting company, so you're more than a little confused at who could be coming calling.
Even more so when you open the door to sea of colour right before your eyes.
"Uh," --you step back slightly, eyes scanning over scene before you. They're flowers, you quickly realize, in abundance, in virtually every colour you could ever imagine and more--"hello?"
"I don't,"--you hear Shouto grunt a little, shifting two of the bouquets in his arms so his face peeks out from between a bunch of white hydrangeas and an overflowing bundle of red roses,--"I don't know your favourite flower."
He looks concerned, his brow pinching and his lips pursed, like the thought troubles him.
You gape.
"Shouto, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on patrol?"
He shifts his arms again, and a bouquet of gerberas becomes visible in the crook of his elbow--sunny yellow against the dark blue of his jacket, thrown on overtop of his uniform though it doesn't do much to disguise it.
"I finished early. And I wanted to bring you flowers."
"You brought me a garden, Sho," you say, enthralled and alarmed all at once. You reach out and take three bouquets of blooms from his overflowing arms in an attempt to help, but somehow it doesn't seem to lighten his load at all--like the flowers have multiplied as quickly as you took some away.
You nod behind you, urging him to follow you into your apartment, which he does diligently.
"Well, I didn't know which ones were your favourites."
"So you said," you mutter, setting the three bundles of flowers you carried in atop your kitchen counter. Carefully, Shouto follows suit, placing his armload down slowly as to not damage the fragile stems and blossoms.
Your counter is piled high by the time the last bouquet has been deposited, the delicate scent of flowers slowly filling your apartment.
"This is... a lot," you breathe, as your eyes rake over the hoard. You peek at Shouto from the corner of your eye, and find him staring right at you, seemingly unconcerned with the veritable Eden he's emptied into your tiny kitchen.
"I upset you yesterday," he says slowly, like he's spent time planning out the words meticulously, "and I wanted to apologize. The internet said flowers are a good way to do so, but I don't know which ones are your favourite."
He'd missed dinner plans with your parents the night before. You'd spent the entire meal worried about where he might have been, what may have been keeping him, whether or not he was safe--only to find out he'd lost track of time filling in paperwork at his agency, and forgotten about the meal all together.
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
"Shouto, that doesn't mean you had to clear out the entire flower shop."
"But I wanted to make sure I got you your favourite. So that you knew I was sorry."
You sigh.
"You could have just said it, silly."
Shoto blinks, like he hadn't thought of that.
"Oh."
Shouto's great at what he does, what he knows: being a pro hero, saving people, doing what's right. But he's new to this, you realize. New to being a boyfriend. New to having to be mindful of another person's feelings. New to apologizing.
"I'm sorry."
All at once you feel like you might laugh and cry. He says it so sweetly. So sincerely. So earnestly.
He hasn't taken his eyes off you since the moment you let him though the door.
"I accept your apology, Sho," you say, stepping towards him and wrapping your arms around his waist. "I wasn't even that upset, there will be other dinners."
"I was worried," he murmurs into the top of your hair, his arms holding you tight against him. "I know it was important to you. I know that you worry."
You pull yourself away, though he only allows you far enough that you can lift your head to look at him. His cheeks are pink as you peek up towards his face.
"Well, it's not like I could stay mad when you show up at my door with my favourite flowers, could I?" you ask, a little smile playing at your lips.
He smiles too, bright and eager, pride swimming behind the mismatched hues of his eyes. "Which ones are they?"
"Peonies," you say, pressing yourself to him once more and burrowing your face against him. "The pink ones at the top of the pile."
Shouto hugs you tight. "I like those ones too."
"Yeah?" you ask, laughing into the blue material stretched across his chest.
"Yeah," he agrees, "I think I have more of them in the car, too."
in bloom
miya osamu/reader (haikyuu!)
word count: 2.8k
tags: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort-ish, grand romantic gestures, vague mentions of mental illness, osamu being The Best man on earth, osamu owning a pickup truck is canon and i refuse to elaborate on this
“Hey.”
Your eyes peel open slowly, your eyelids heavy with the weight of sleep you aren't quite ready to be torn from.
You blink once, then twice, and on the third blink your eyes flutter shut again—slumber calling you back too enticingly to keep them open.
“C’mon sleeping beauty, ya gotta get up now.”
You can smell coffee, the deep notes of the dark roast that Osamu prefers registering distantly in your tired mind. When you open your eyes again, the lamp on your bedside table has been turned on, and your slightly untidy bedroom is bathed in the light of the warm toned bulb.
“I’m tired,” you say weakly.
“I know baby, ya don’t gotta stay awake long—just need to getcha into the truck, alright?”
Osamu is seated on the edge of the bed beside you, fully dressed, staring down at you as you fight the pull to slip back into unconsciousness.
“What time is it?” you rasp out, rolling over a little more under the warm swath of blankets wrapped around you. The clock on your bedside table startles you, your eyes snapping to the boy watching your sleepy face placidly. “Samu, it’s four in the morning.”
“I know that,” he says with a light laugh, brushing some hair back from your face.
“Why are you waking me up?” you ask him, the grogginess of sleep still saturating your words, leaning into the warmth of his touch and resisting the urge to let your eyes shut again. “Thought you had the day off.”
“I do. We’re going somewhere.”
“At four in the morning?”
Osamu pats your cheek lightly. “Yep.”
Maybe it’s because you’re too tired to question it, or maybe it’s the way that Samu pries you up out of bed with careful, gentle hands. He passes you a pair of comfortable leggings that you pull on mindlessly, then one of his old Inarizaki VBC sweatshirts you like so much, and finally he bundles you into one of his own coats before guiding your teetering, dozy form out the door and into his truck.
It’s still dark out, and cold enough that you can see your breath under the streetlights as you crawl into the passengers seat and Samu shuts your door behind you. The truck is already warm and running, and there’s two cups of coffee waiting in the cupholders in insulated travel mugs.
“Put yer buckle on,” Osamu instructs you after taking his own seat, and you do as you’re told as he shifts the gearstick into drive.
You aren’t in the car for more than 15 minutes before you fall asleep again.
When you wake for the second time it’s lighter, though still not quite day break. It takes you a moment to realize where you are, and why.
You watch the scenery outside the window blur past, before sliding your eyes towards the windshield. The time on the dashboard reads 5:15.
“Samu, where the hell are we?” you croak, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” your boyfriend laughs from the driver’s seat, looking over at you with his eyes crinkling at the corner. His hair is bed-head messy, and he has a smudge of white on the corner of his mouth.
Toothpaste, maybe?
“Did ya sleep alright? Hit a pretty nasty hole a ways back but ya didn’t even notice. Snored right through it.”
“I don’t snore,” you lie, sitting up a little straighter in your seat. Your body hurts from sleeping in such a strange position, but you can’t really do anything about the lingering stiffness while you’re still trapped in the moving vehicle. “Where are we?” you repeat your earlier question which Samu had tactically avoided.
“About an hour outside Osaka,” Osamu says, completely unhelpfully.
You’re in the car driving, and the clock on the dash tells you it’s been about an hour since you started driving, so what he tells you is already a given.
“Where are we going?” you ask him.
He tuts. “‘Fraid I can’t tell ya that. Top secret.”
You furrow your brow.
This isn’t like Osamu. He’s never pulled anything like this before. You don’t know what to make of it.
“Yer coffee’s still hot, and I got us donuts.” Samu takes one hand off the wheel to grab a paper bag from the floor by his feet. It crinkles noisily as he hands it to you.
Inside the bag are a few donuts, covered in powdered sugar. You suspect there are already a few missing from within.
That explains the smudge on his face.
You lick your thumb, reaching over the centre console towards him.
Osamu stiffens at the unexpected contact, softening as he realizes what you’re doing. You run the pad of your thumb across the corner of his mouth a few times until the traces of white are gone, pulling away to sit back in your seat.
You lick the sugar off your finger absentmindedly when you’re done, before reaching into the bag for a donut of your own.
“If we’re going to Tokyo, why didn’t we just take the train?” you ask through a mouthful of fried dough and sugar, noting a directional sign that the two of you pass along the highway indicating you’re travelling in the direction of the capital. You had suspected as much, given that the screen of the dashboard said you were travelling north east from your home in Osaka.
“Not goin’ to Tokyo,” Samu replies simply, reaching for his cup of coffee in the cupholder beside him. It’s empty, he seems to remember only seconds after picking it up, and he puts it back down without even taking a sip.
You lick the sugar off your fingers and reach for your own cup of untouched coffee, popping open the lid and holding it out to him.
He takes it from your hand, bringing it to his lips and tilting it back all without removing his eyes from the road. He hands it back to you after taking a long swig.
He winces a little after he swallows, watching from the corner of his eye as you bring the travel mug to your own lips. “Careful, s’still hot, babe.”
You hum, taking a trepidatious sip from the well-insulated cup. He’s right.
“So where are we going, and why did you feel the need to wake me up at the crack of dawn to get there?”
Samu shoots you a look—exasperated but loving—from his seat beside you.
“Can’t anything ever be a surprise with you?””
“Not if I can help it,” you reply back smoothly, earning you a laugh.
“I just… wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya,” he mutters, almost reluctantly. He takes an audible breath—in and out—before adding, “I know you’ve been feelin’ a bit… off lately.”
You stiffen in your seat, eyes fixed unseeingly to the lines of the highway as they flash past on the asphalt.
“-’s nothing wrong with that, but I know you’ve been havin’ a hard time ’n I just-“
“Samu.”
Your strained voice makes him falter, his sentence ending before he can say it in its entirety.
It’s quiet for a moment. A little uncomfortable.
“D’ya mind if I put some music on now that yer awake?” Osamu tries to ease the tension that has settled over the cab of the truck. You nod stiffly.
Osamu reaches to fiddle with the buttons and nobs of the radio, but in truth seems less concerned with finding something he likes on the air than just finding something that will distract from the borderline suffocating stillness in the car between you.
You feel bad.
For more reasons than one.
Firstly, because he was clearly just trying to do something nice to cheer you up. A sincere, heartfelt gesture blossoming from his desire for you to be happy and well. A deed sown, tended to, and grown from his love for you.
Secondly, because he noticed that you needed to be cheered up in the first place; noticed what you had been trying not to let sink its claws too deeply into you; noticed what so much of your mental energy had been going into covering up, pretending wasn’t there, pretending wasn’t sitting on your shoulders like a weight—impossible to see but crushing to bear.
You’d been trying not to let it show how much you’d been struggling lately. You’d been sleeping a lot. Usually in bed before Osamu made it home from work in the evenings, and sleeping in past when he woke up in the mornings. On the afternoons he made it home early (which he tried to do at least three times a week) you were usually too drained to do anything beyond make dinner, clean up, shower, and collapse into bed.
You thought you’d been managing it.
Suppressing it.
Concealing it.
Obviously you were wrong.
The song playing over the sound system is an old love song. One you remember your mom singing along to in the kitchen of your childhood home while she would cook dinner for your family. It was from the soundtrack of a romantic comedy that had come out when you were still too young to know what comedy was, let alone romance, but there’s something nostalgic and comforting about it. In any case, you appreciate the distraction, settling back in your seat and sipping the too-hot coffee for lack of anything else you’d prefer to do.
You drive for another hour, sharing your cup of coffee between you in place of conversation, listening to old love songs playing on the morning radio.
Osamu turns off the highway at an innocuous looking exit, a few minutes past a sign that had told you Tokyo was still more than 400 kilometres away. There’s nothing outside your windows except countryside—no city or town or other civilization to be seen. It’s only seven in the morning, and you pass just a handful of other vehicles on the winding rural roads as you make your way along them.
“Samu, where the hell are we?” you ask at the very moment Osamu turns up a dirt road—a driveway of some sort.
“D’ya remember back when we started dating?” Osamu asks, eyes fixed too concentratedly on the road outside the windshield to be natural. He’s nervous, you can tell.
“Uh, yeah. It was five years not fifty years ago,” you joke, but there’s an undercurrent to it, the implication that you feel like you’ve loved him forever. You know he feels it too.
“I wanted to buy ya flowers,” he ignores your jibe, though not without peeking at you pointedly from the corner of his eye, “spent ages in the flower shop down the road from our first apartment trying to pick them out. I had almost no money to spend and that nice lady that owned it sent me home with a bouquet worth three times what I paid her for it.”
You remember it all. The flower shop; the terrible one bedroom apartment that was all the two of you could afford back then, when you were still a student and Onigiri Miya was just a food stall on a busy road; the bouquet so large you didn’t even have anything big enough to put it into when Osamu brought it home to you, and you’d had to break it up between four different receptacles to house it: a narrow vase, two empty sake bottles, and an over-sized coffee mug. It smelled so nice that every corner of your dingy little apartment was filled with the scent of the flowers for days.
“Ya hated it.”
“I did not!” you gasp, jaw dropping at the accusation, and you turn in your seat to face your boyfriend defensively.
“Ya told me that flowers are a waste of money and that a nicer gift is something you can eat!” Samu laughs as he says it, tossing his head back against the headrest of his seat.
You purse your lips, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly. You don’t remember speaking those words exactly, but it does sound suspiciously like something you’d say.
“I told you I loved them,” you mutter. And you did. You even pressed some of the blossoms between the pages of your heavy text books to save, and now they hang in frames on the wall of your current (and much less austere) apartment.
“I asked what yer favourite flowers are. D’ya remember whatcha told me?” Samu asks, finally turning his head to properly look at you.
You wrack your brain for a moment, and then shake your head. The memory evades you.
“Strawberries,” Samu says. “Ya told me yer favourite flowers are strawberries.”
You blink.
You notice for the first time that the truck has slowed to a stop, idling in park at the end of the driveway. Outside the windows of the truck you see a modest little house, a shed of some sort, and a row of greenhouses dotted along the lush green fields of the property.
“One of my suppliers told me about this place, apparently they grow the best berries in Japan. They sell some of ‘em fer like fifty-thousand yen. The ojisan who runs it’s a nice guy though, invited us down for the day to check it out.”
You blink again, only this time your eyes go a little blurry as you peel them open, something hot slipping down your cheeks.
“I know ya don’t like to talk about it when yer going through stuff,” Samu says quietly from the seat beside you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. He reaches over and places a hand, warm and comforting, on your knee. “But I want ya to know that I love ya, and I’m always here, s’all.”
Your throat feels tight and dry, and suddenly you wish you had some of that coffee left in your empty travel mug.
“I-“ you choke a little on your first attempt to reply, swallowing hard. “I just know you have so much on your plate already. I never wanna add more to that just because I’m…” you don’t know how to finish your thought.
“Hey.” Samu’s fingers tighten a little on your knee, not painful in any way, but enough to tell you he needs you to look at him, to be there with him right now.
You look at him sheepishly, eyes struggling to meet his level, resolute gaze.
“Lovin’ someone is work. Life is hard, and sometimes it’s ugly, and things aren’t always just gonna work themselves out easy all the time. But I wanna share that with ya: yer whole life, not just the good stuff. So ya can’t just go and decide on yer own what things yer goin’ through you gotta keep to yourself or do alone, because I’m right here. I wanna work on it with ya. Because this is worth it.”
You’re openly crying now, in the passenger seat of Samu’s beloved truck, in the driveway of a strawberry farm in the middle of nowhere, an empty paper bag filled with donut crumbs and powdered sugar under your feet.
Samu leans across the centre console of the truck, wrapping you in his arms as best he’s able to in the slightly awkward confines of your respective seats. He smells like laundry detergent and coffee. He’s warm and solid and right where you need him, like always.
His large hand cradles the back of your head as your tears soak into the flannel shirt he’s got on, letting you cry it out for as long as you need to. When you finally pull yourself together a little bit, he withdraws, wiping at your tears and snot with the soft edge of his sleeve.
“Ya feel a bit better now?” he asks gently.
You nod.
“I love you,” you whisper.
“I love ya too,” he grins, toothy and boyish. “Now are ya ready to go and pick some flowers or what?”
“Strawberries aren’t technically flowers,” you sniff, but you’re smiling.
“Who cares,” Samu laughs, and the sound is as warm as the early morning sunlight breaking over the fields and streaming into the widows behind him. “I wanna see what’s so good about these ones that he’s chargin’ an arm and a leg for ‘em.”
“Bet I can pick more than you can,” you say, scrunching your nose up challengingly.
Osamu scoffs, reaching for the handle of the truck door and throwing it open.
Can we mayhaps have domestic / fatherhood hcs for Ashito, Akutsu, and Fukuda ❤️
An overly affectionate father to one energetic boy.
Fukuda, as a coach, introduced football to his son quite early in life. If his son decides to join Esperion, he’ll treat him just like any other player on the team. But off the field? That’s a different story.
He and his son share a great relationship— one where the son feels comfortable enough to confide in him, even about topics he isn’t ready or willing to discuss with you. Fukuda’s light-hearted demeanor plays a huge role in their bond, as his son relies heavily on his expressions before and during their conversations. Knowing when to be serious and when to crack a joke is one of Fukuda’s greatest strengths. He lives for the shared laughter between you and his son.
Like any parent, he gets angry when his son behaves unruly, rude, or unnecessarily dismissive. You’re not a fan of disciplining— and truth be told, neither is he— but the responsibility usually falls on him. Your son is unusually unsettled each time, because Fukuda’s anger isn’t loud or harsh. Instead, the frustration shows in his lips, his words, his body language, and his eyes— not in his tone or volume. It’s intimidating not only to his own child but to other kids as well. It’s all too effective.
Fukuda tries to be present for every milestone in his son’s life. However, his career often holds him back, causing him to miss some of his child’s most important moments— ever since infancy, and always unwillingly. His heart sinks every time he remembers, guilt rising like a lump in his throat. In this aspect of fatherhood, he carries deep disappointment in himself.
His mother plays a big role in his life, so most family advice comes from her—and sometimes Hana.
Nozomi is your child’s favorite uncle to hang out with; his silent and strict demeanor is a breath of fresh air, full of quiet determination. Like father, like son.
And you can bet your son is practically chained at the hip to Shiba’s children.
There was—and will never be— a match that makes him as antsy as when his daughter was born. She grew up to become a mini version of him, much more naive and oblivious to her surroundings than he ever was at her age. He's pround of that accomplishment.
The path to fatherhood has been a difficult one for Akutsu. His insecurity about it weighs heavily on him, and in some twisted way, he views this anxiety as shameful. Yet that same heavy anxiety drives him to become better than he was before. This— family— is a commitment, and a lifelong one at that.
He encourages his daughter in everything, still wearing the calm, still expression he’s known for, even when his intentions are tender and full of love. It’s a common sight to see him lying on his back on the couch while his daughter massages his face, small hands softly slapping his cheeks as she giggles.
She’s his biggest fan, shaking like a leaf every time her father’s face appears on the TV screen. It doesn’t matter that he’s right there playing with her— seeing him on TV in that Senior Esperion shirt sparks an excitement like no other.
This naturally develops into obvious favoritism toward your daughter—which doesn’t really upset you. How could you be upset when your child, born from both of your love, clearly adores and loves her father? Still, it can get a little annoying when she refuses to let you hand-feed her and insists that only Akutsu can do it. The same goes for baths and restroom breaks— “Otou-san! Otou-san!” she calls out, ignoring your help even with her kindergarten projects. Of course, Akutsu never keeps her waiting for long.
They look so cute together— her small form curled up on his lap, her colorful dress contrasting with his dark wardrobe, adorable as ever. He patiently helps her use her chopsticks.
He’s a moody father, but one very much loved by his only child.
Having grown up with an older brother, Ashito always planned to have two children—and he didn’t disappoint.
Ashito has two lovely girls. The younger one inherited beautiful straight hair that reminds him of their mother, while the older one has his thick curls. Both share his mother’s dark black hair and his warm brown eyes. The rest of their traits, of course, come from you.
Though both girls are spoiled, they’re far from rotten. Ashito is determined to raise them with the respect he wished he’d had as a teenager. Despite his demanding career as a professional footballer, he makes it a point to be fully present in their lives.
He doesn’t have a favorite—and he makes that clear through his actions. He gives his love equally, knowing how important it is that both of his daughters feel seen, heard, and adored. Whether it’s practicing penalty kicks with one or playing dress-up tea parties with the other, Ashito makes sure to divide his time and attention evenly, never letting either feel left behind.
He’s the dad who turns their backyard into a mini training ground, patiently teaching them to dribble and kick— even if it means multiple missed shots and giggles. On rainy days, he’s the one building blanket forts and acting out silly stories that have the girls laughing until their cheeks hurt. When homework time comes, he’s there with a calm voice and a steady hand, helping solve math problems or listening to their dreams and worries, even if he did have bad grades.
Bedtime is sacred— Ashito never misses the chance to tuck them in, brushing strands away from their foreheads and whispering how proud he is. He’s the dad who lets them sneak into his room for midnight cuddles, reminding them that no matter how busy life gets, they’re his whole world.
His discipline on the field translates into patience and guidance at home, teaching his daughters the value of hard work, humility, and kindness— all wrapped up in endless hugs and bedtime kisses.
He doesn't have a favorite and makes a point of giving his love equally to both.
If they see you struggle to carry stuff they'll run over to help you
You're no longer allowed to do their laundry because you ONCE accidentally turned their white uniform pink
Ryosuke was the most upset but Miyuki thought it was the most hilarious thing ever
They find your terrible cooking endearing. You're so sweet and earnest about it that they feel bad saying no to you
Some of the players make you so flustered you forget what you were doing
Sawamura and Haruichi love gossiping with you. Furuya likes to pretend like he's not interested but he knows all the drama
You started taking terrible low quality photos of the team and like to print them out on posters for team motivation. They jokingly whine about it but they love seeing low quality memes of the other players
On your first day as manager Tanba accidentally glared at you because of the sun and you freaked out so bad. Kuramochi laughed so hard
You often stay late to help clean up after practice so the third years take turns walking you back to the bus station
They LOVE to playfully fight over stuff you're handing out. "She meant to give it to me!". Especially Sawamura - "I got the FIRST water bottle from y/n"
🌷✨ More characters and stories coming soon!
Thank you for reading! 🌸💌 Requests are Open! 💌🌸
Feel free to send in headcanon ideas, drabble requests, etc! 🎀✨
🔗 Return to Masterlist 🌸 💌 🌸 All my other social media linked here!
When Hashirama informed about the newest political arrangement that was already set and decided, Tobirama couldn’t disagree to fulfill his duties. He was always convinced he’ll end up in loveless, political marriage, as love and affection were things he couldn’t afford, so he didn't think twice before agreeing. Little that he knew, that having you in his life will change him forever.
contents: this series is based on the arranged, political marriage trope, f!reader, some characters are made up and some details may stray from the naruto reality. each chapter has its own warnings so read them before proceeding ❥ contains sexual themes, canon, ninja related violence, angst, hurt and comfort
STATUS: FINISHED
I — A PRINCESS
II — LATE TO WORK
III — THE UCHIHA KID
IV — MY LOVE
V — GOLDEN CAGE
VI — YOU HAVE MY HEART
VII — WHAT IF...?
VIII — HOPES AND DREAMS
IX, FINALE — HAPPINESS...?
IX, FINALE — HAPPINESS...? // F. READER x TOBIRAMA SENJU
With Tobirama you learned the true meaning of happiness, of belonging, of love. He had shown you the life you had only dreamt of, he gave you a chance to become a mother. With him, you wanted to grow old.
contents: angst, tissues might me needed, major character death — 1,3k words
a/n: with that, I'm closing this story. I want to thank you guys so, so much for supporting it. when I began writing it years ago, I thought it will be just for myself and then, when I decided to publish the first part of it, I never, ever, expected it to be so well received. I thought that Tobirama isn't a character that's liked and I'm so happy I decided to post it. I'm sorry for all the delays and waiting. thank you ❥
POLITICALLY LOVELESS || SERIES MASTERLIST
Despair.
You have not gotten to know the real meaning of the word before, despite the rocky youth in your home village and everything life threw at you. It was an odd concept, one that you were gladly avoiding for all the years you spent in the world and instead of hurting and sadness, you basked in the happiness of your existence. With friends, with family, with people who cherished you.
With Tobirama, you have found joy. A bliss of belonging, the love that made you feel like you were walking on clouds and sunshine. He was a man of stoicism and calmness, a pillar of justice and cold-calculation, but you managed to break through the layers of protective aloofness, tear off the impassive armor and nestle yourself within his chest. You’ve got him in love. And you were in love too. Truly. Completely.
And then, when your son came to the world, you thought you’ve found everything you could ever wish for. Kazuki was a blessing, a baby created of you and your beloved Tobirama. A boy, whose name you chose to represent the hope and love you shared, the dreams and pride. And it was beautiful, to nurture the little human, to support his growth into an excellent human and watch him develop the features of both you and the Senju. You remember the way your husband cared for him, with delicate hands and warm smiles — just as he would tend to you. Because he loved you, with all his heart, even though he not always was capable of showing that. You knew more than words could ever express. You knew his heart through and through, could read it like an open book.
You watched your baby grow up. You remember the days when you’d visit Tobirama in his office, to bring him food and kisses, all while carrying your little treasure in your arms. Kazuki would always squeal happily, reaching his little hands towards his dada, demanding the cuddles and smooches. And without fail, your husband’s face would brighten up at the sight of you. Every single time. There was no document more important than you and his son, there was no meeting he wouldn’t stop just to spend a moment with his beloved family. You were spoiled by him and with all your might, you aimed to spoil him too.
Then, the boy began training with his father and you were there to support both of them, to kiss scraped knees and bring rice balls and snacks. You were there to watch your son learn new techniques, you helped him with weapons and jutsus. With a heart full of love and admiration, you observed how your precious boy played with Kagami, how they trained together and spent time as if they were siblings joined by blood. It was beautiful. It was a dream.
It had to be a nightmare.
Despair has never been a feeling you truly experienced. Why would you? You had all you could possibly want. A beautiful house, a garden, a village you could call your home. You had a beautiful child and a loving husband. Tobirama. He has shielded you from feelings akin to sorrow. You didn’t even know it, but everything he did was to secure your future in safety. The ninja academy, the ANBU, even the police that was run by Uchihas. In Senju’s mind, you were the main reason to continue living, to continue striving towards the best outcomes. You and Kazuki. Two parts of his heart.
This couldn’t be true.
You remembered the days that were careless. You’d wake up in his arms as Sunday’s sun filtered through the curtains. You’d inhale the scent of his skin — a fresh rain and musk — and then kiss his cheeks enough times to make up for all the time you couldn’t do it when he wore his usual face paints. Then, your son would join you, jumping onto the bed and nudging between you two, giggling with this beautiful youthful innocence that you wished with your entire heart to protect for as long as possible. You’d cuddle for a while, whisper-talking about sweet little nothings as he’d play with your hair, keeping you in his protective embrace. Oh, you’d wish to go back to those days. Those Sundays, those hours spent in your little corner of the world, sound and filled with joy, with the birds singing outside and the scent of laundry in the air.
No.
Or the days when it rained. Tobirama loved the sound of rain, the droplets pitter-pattering against the windows in the late evenings. You loved those moments too, when you’d melt against his chest, with a herbal aroma of tea filling the room and the warmth of his body so close to yours. He would tell you all about his day, the decisions he had to make as hokage, the improvements of his students, the funny stories from the trainings. He would kiss your head over and over again and sigh in content, as you basked in his touch. And then, the calm would be broken by the sound of the doors snapping open — soaked in rain, Kazuki would run inside along with Kagami, both laughing and panting as they quickly shed the damp vests and muddy shoes. The life would come back to the house, along with the chaos that you wouldn’t give up for any treasures of the world because you already had what’s most precious. On those days, you’d fall asleep late, after drying the boys, feeding and tucking them to bed. It’s just then, after you’d make sure both Kagami and Kazuki were asleep and give them both few gentle forehead kisses, when you’d allow yourself once more to melt into Tobirama’s embrace.
You thought that there’s no way in the world you’d ever survive without the feeling of cuddling to your husband. He’s became the air you needed to breathe, the blood that’s needed for your heart to beat. He’s became everything, your pride, your soulmate, your lover and the father of your child. He was a person you couldn’t wait to grow old with.
No, please.
“He volunteered to be a decoy. We couldn’t– I couldn’t stop him.”
There was nothing hard to understand in the simple sentence that was delivered to you by Kagami. You watched him, your eyes absentmindedly following the tears that run down his cheeks as he trembled in front of you. The other ninjas that knelt behind him had their heads hanging low but it was easy to tell some of them were crying.
Your husband was gone.
In an instinct, you took the Uchiha to yourself, hugging the young boy to your heart as if you were his own mother — because partially, you were as close to him as that. He hugged you tightly, whispering apologies like a broken cassette and you rocked him softly, back and forth, telling him it’s okay and kissing his temple. You told him that it’s okay, all while your own heart was breaking to pieces.
So that’s the feeling.
Despair was something you have not experienced until you watched the coffin being covered with sand. Until you watched your husband being buried right in front of your eyes. Tobirama died, sacrificing himself to save the youth, to stop the enemy, to save you and your son — Kazuki, who clung to your body, crying his eyes out as the burial took place. Who cried for weeks after and whom you cried with, even though you tried to be strong. For him and for the man that took your heart down to his grave.
Because of Tobirama, you have learned the meaning of true happiness. Of love and belonging, of bliss and joy.
Because of Tobirama, you have got to experience being a mother and raising a child.
And because of Tobirama, you have learned the meaning of true despair.
III — THE UCHIHA KID // F. READER x TOBIRAMA SENJU
The babyboy that asked you for help turned out to be a member of the Uchiha clan and it's safe to say that he was terrified to face your husband. You, on the other hand, were more than willing to help him.
contents: none, just fluff — 3k words
POLITICALLY LOVELESS || SERIES MASTERLIST
A boy, whose name was Kagami Uchiha, was a six years old orphaned baby of the clan that your husband fruitlessly warned you about many times. It was against your nature to prejudice but you understood his point of view, after reading every document regarding the history of founding Konoha and the warring period. The baby was instructed by the clan members to head to Tobirama, as he was responsible for housing issues in the village, as well as the orphanage. Unfortunately, it was stated strictly that every move or change in the location had to go through the office, because it was needed to be noted. That made it easier to keep the order or act if someone was in danger.
After you knocked, you peaked inside the office, seeing your husband at the desk, reading something.
“What is it?” he asked, not even lifting his head, consumed by the document.
“Sorry to bother you, my dear,” you spoke, drawing his attention to you and as he looked up, his features twisted just slightly in surprise. Last thing he was expecting was to see you with a child in your arms. “If you need to finish reading, I’ll wait outside.”
“No, come in and give me a minute.”
Giving it a nod, you closed the door behind you as he got back to the paper he was analyzing. Approaching the large, full-wall-sized window you showed the view to the boy, admiring the enlarged eyes he made, seeing the whole village and woods around it from here. But even if he was stunned, his little body couldn’t stop shaking and it broke your heart. You gave him a peck to the cheek, whispering that he’s safe here in hope that no more tears will be spilled but you suspected otherwise.
“Alright, you can sit down, I’m done,” Tobirama informed and you went to take a seat in front of his desk, when he got up, circling it and leaning against the top, intentionally placing his hands down on his sides not to scare the child further with his guarded form.
“Would you mind if I present your case?” you asked the boy and he nodded, hiding his little face in your neck. Smoothing his back, you looked up to your husband. “This little gentleman has lost both of his parents and is in need for a place to live. He asked me for help, afraid to come here alone.”
“Is that the Uchiha kid?” Tobirama asked, hinting that he knows something about the situation already.
“Kagami Uchiha, yes.”
“Earlier today I received a notice informing that his parents were assigned for a mission that failed,” he looked back at the scrolls he was reviewing earlier that day, trying to bring some details to his mind and an exhale assisted him coming to terms with the not-so-pleasant part of his work. So many years he wanted to achieve nothing else than peace where children wouldn’t have to suffer the war and yet, still conflicts result in sorrow. “Well, I will contact Uchihas to find a family for him, but I’m afraid it will take few days. Probably weeks. Up until this time, he’ll go to the orpha-“
“Would it be possible that you let me handle this issue and take care of this boy for the time we get an answer? I can pay a visit to Madara, it would be much quicker.”
Tobirama stayed silent for few moments, searching for a solution to the matter, just like he always does and you gave him the time to answer while smoothing Kagami’s back. Sensing the lack of wrath from your husband, he slowly began relaxing in your embrace, soon falling asleep on your shoulder, exhausted by everything that happened to him lately. You couldn’t imagine how distressed was that boy by losing both of his parents, losing his home and being forced to face a man that he was convinced hates him. During your previous talk, he even hinted that he’s afraid that Tobirama will kill him if he goes there alone.
“It might be slightly more efficient if you go to Madara yourself, since he has a soft spot for you,” your man spoke finally, crossing his arms over his chest, like he usually does when thinking about something. “Please, elaborate on taking care of him yourself?”
“Our home has more than enough space for this little one to spend few days in, without stressing him with the orphanage. If you’d agree, I promise I’ll take care of him so he won’t interrupt your routine.”
It was a lot to ask him, you were well aware of that but you were determined to help this baby out. Tobirama was mostly out of the house anyway, it shouldn’t be a problem to have a 5-year-old that would probably be sleeping all the time he’s back. The very thought of weighing this poor little soul with another burden such as orphanage was making your heart clench.
“Such a kind heart you have,” the man exhaled deeply, looking at the child that was sleeping cuddled to your body, feeling safe enough to allow himself to lose consciousness. “Always so keen to help the village.”
“Konoha is also my home now,” you smiled, “and this child did nothing wrong, he’s just six.”
“My schedule is full for the next days so I won’t be able to help you. Can you handle the issue alone?”
“I’m positive. I took care of many children in Yu, they always seem to like me,” you glanced at the boy, your face now stained with a soft smile. “And I’m sure that I can find a loving family to this baby by talking with people myself faster than the documents could.”
“So let be it,” Tobirama straightened up and you got up as well, happy to hear his response. “I should manage to prepare the documents by tomorrow, so they will be ready when you’re done with your search. Up until now, please make sure to provide what’s needed for this boy.”
“Yes, my Lord,” you smiled, giving him a kiss to the corner of his lips, before saying goodbye and leaving.
Tobirama stayed in place for a moment longer, his mind replaying the words you used to address him. It wasn’t out of ordinary for people to call him lord, he was hokage’s brother and arguably one of the most, if not the most important person in the village but you were the only one, who called him your Lord. He loved hearing those words, it made him feel like he was indeed yours and being yours came with pride to Tobirama. From the beginning he was focused on you staying by his side, and now, knowing how loving and pure-hearted you are, he was overjoyed to call himself yours. Your Lord, your husband, your dear. Everything you addressed him with made his heart flutter. You were really an angel sent from above and with that thought, he got back to work.
The night you spent sleeping in the guest room, next to the little boy that was too frightened to sleep alone in the foreign place, but relaxed immediately, feeling your body’s warmth next to him. To know you were a safe space for him, that he was able to find peace and security in you made your heart swell with joy.
The night you stayed alerted, sleeping lightly in order to notice if Kagami was having a calm dream and as the morning struck its light onto your face and you heard your husband getting ready to leave, you raised a little on your elbow. As if Tobirama sensed you’re awake, he peaked into the guest room, quietly approaching your side of the bed and motioning you to not leave the bed.
“Don’t get up, it’s alright,” he told you, taking a mental picture of how tenderly you kept the little boy to yourself. From the moment he’d seen you in his office the day before, he knew he won’t get the peace of mind now, his thoughts constantly circling around the depiction of you caring for your own child. Tobirama was never too keen on having his own spouse, hoping the bloodline will be passed down by Hashirama, but he couldn’t deny the image was tempting.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” you whispered. “I’ll bring you bento to your office.”
“Don’t worry about it. Was the night peaceful?”
“It was, yes”, you gave it a little nod, whilst Tobirama glanced at you two once again.
“I have to go now. You know where to find me.”
“Have a nice day.”
With a soft kiss planted on your temple, he was soon gone.
“He’s not that bad,” Kagami muttered against your chest and you smiled, smoothing his hair.
“Of course, he’s not,” you cooed quietly. “He may look scary, but has a good heart.”
Two weeks it took you to finalize the issue with Kagami and you couldn’t be happier with the outcome. The family you found with the help of Madara was a couple that couldn’t have their own children but dreamt of one. With tears they agreed to open their hearts to the young boy, thanking you, their ancestors and even gods for the gift and it thrilled you to know that he’s safe and sound now, with good people. The two were shinobi, with father that’s mid-ranked officer of Uchiha forces and a mother that’s skilled in ninjutsu, and you believed they can raise Kagami to be a powerful ninja in the future, that got to know parental love.
Collecting all of the documents and sharing few more moments with the boy, you promised him that he’s welcome to your home always and offered your help if he or his family needed anything. It broke your heart just a little to give him away, as you’ve become quite attached to him, but it was better for Kagami to grow among Uchihas, learn about their techniques and sharingan – things that you couldn’t teach him, especially when during the time you learned that a powerful ocular jutsu is coded in his blood line. You hoped that being raised with the clan will allow Kagami to grow into his full potential.
“Thank you, Madara,” you bowed slightly to the clan leader, when you were about to leave their district. “I think the family will cherish the future.”
“I think so too,” he responded. “I have to admit, it’s bold of you to involve in Uchiha matters, being a wife to Tobirama. You have my respect.”
“The child has nothing to do with the eternal conflict between your clan and the Senju. And I’m neither of those,” chuckling, you secured the scrolls into the pouch on your waist. “But I’m glad Kagami found a loving home, because if that wouldn’t be the case, I’d insist on raising him myself and that would make things a little complicated.”
“I imagine. You have a kind heart, I hope this world won’t corrupt it too quickly,” Madara lowered his head just slightly, in respect towards you. “If that’s all, I’ll return to my duties.”
“Of course. Thank you once again. I’ll leave now too.”
Exchanging quick goodbyes, you got back home to prepare food for your husband and while the rice was cooking, you tidied up a little. It was inevitable that a little bit of mess will set inside, as the child was staying there but it was nothing severe. Already missing Kagami, you sighed. The kid was just too adorable not to grow attached. He was just the right balance between quiet and loud, he loved to be hugged and often fell asleep while being in your embrace. With his little kisses on the cheek, you felt your heart flutter and grow, and even your husband, whom you wouldn’t call the best with children, liked the little Uchiha, although he would never admit it out loud. You noticed he was softer towards him; he even took the boy on his lap while in the office which was one of the most adorable moments you’ve witnessed, probably in your life. You were convinced he would agree if you asked to keep the baby, but that would be selfish of you. It truly was the best for him to be raised by Uchihas and just because you gave him to the new family didn’t mean you won’t ever see him again. You were informed to be welcome in their house whenever you feel like it and you also proclaimed yourself as the official aunt.
With the bento filled and packed, you locked the door and took a walk to the hokage office, where your husband also had his place but, in his workplace, you didn’t find him. Taking the liberty of entering without permission you approached his desk and placed the food and the scroll there, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen you sat down on his chair to write a note.
“Comfortable?” deep, familiar voice reached your ears when the doors opened and your husband entered his office. You looked up, watching him as he went across the room and before you reacted, he already pulled you away from the desk, grabbed your body like it weighted nothing and sat down, situating you on top of his thighs.
“Now I am,” you joked, kissing his cheek. “Good morning, my dear.”
“Good morning,” he took the letter you were writing and glanced over the text before putting it to one of his drawers. “How’s Kagami?”
“Safe in his new home. I already know he’ll be spoiled; they were on cloud nine taking him in. Madara was cooperative as well. I’d say everything went well,” you briefed, smoothing over the back of his neck. “All details and documents are inside those scrolls I brought you. I made sure to fill them to your standards.”
“I’m sure you did,” he chuckled. “Thank you for lunch.”
A smile bloomed on your face. “You’re welcome, my love.”
Love. That was the first time he heard this one specific word coming from your mouth and he wondered for a second if he misheard you, because surely, he had to. Love was a strong word, even though it wasn’t a confession, it still held one heavy emotional impact and Tobirama was convinced that love wasn’t what’s between you two. He loves you, yes. How could he not if you’re such a good person? A great shinobi that was ready to die for the village that wasn’t even your own, a golden heart keen to help everyone, a woman beautiful inside and outside. A perfect human being that he had the luck to marry through the political arrangement. But you had not that much reason to fall for him. You were patient and kind to him, just as you were to everybody else. You touched him, but you told him before marriage that it's your way of showing affection. You got up every day so early only to wish him a great day and make sure he has something to eat, even though you could sleep for a little longer before starting your day. Could that be out of love and not out of wife’s duty?
“I have one more meeting today and it’s possible I’ll be free a little earlier today,” he said finally, breaking out of his own spiral of overthinking, “would you want to join me for a walk this evening?”
“I would absolutely love to,” smiling, you leaned your head over his shoulder, inhaling his scent gently pulling down his collar so you could press your lips against his skin. “I shouldn’t take your time while you’re at work, should I?”
“I have few more minutes before I need to leave for a meeting and I’ll gladly give those to you.”
“In that case, I’ll gladly accept them.”
It didn’t take long for Tobirama’s lips to find yours, locking them in a kiss filled with longing. He himself was surprised of how much his body yearned for the closeness of yours, after two weeks of very limited contact due to a child in your home that consumed all of your attention. You’ve got him so used to your affections that he found himself unable to exist correctly without them. What have you done to him? All of his life, Tobirama believed that emotional attachment was a barrier; that it’s something he cannot afford in order to stay strong and reliable, but you proved him wrong. You proved that not only he needs feelings in his life but also, they make him stronger than he was before. You made him stronger; you made him a better leader; you showed him that softness isn’t synonymous to weakness and the young Senju liked who he’d become with you by his side.
You could feel how hungry your man was, how starved of affection he had become in just those few days and it thrilled you, excitement coursing through your veins as you run your fingers through his silver hair. At the beginning, although agreeing to your touches, he wasn’t keen to reciprocate your gestures. He had to learn how to be physical with you, because before that only contact that involved two bodies was confined to battle. But Tobirama being a smart man, learned quickly that it’s not unusual for couples to share touches, to kiss, to sleep together. He learned that intimacy is first and foremost for pleasure, not only to reproduce. All of it made you happy. It meant he had opened to you, dropped down his guard and let you into his world that before you was strictly restricted to laws and orders.
Biting on his lower lip you smiled, letting your hand brush the nape of his neck. Taking in his little gasp, you broke the kiss, resting your forehead against his and smoothing the light skin of his cheek, avoiding the red dashes he painted on his face every morning.
“What have you done to me?” he whispered, calming his breath.
“You’re welcome,” kissing him once more, you got up from his legs. “When should I expect you?”
“I’ll wrap things up around 8PM.”
“So, I’ll pick you up at 8. We’re set. Now, focus on the meeting and don’t forget to eat, alright?”
I have a silly request, can you do tobirama and indra tripping on to their crushes chest, like maybe on accident or on purpose but if you choose on accident can you describe their headcannons.
I just want to have a good giggle, hope your doing well!
PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING SO LONG, FINALLY HERE I AM!
Indra
Accidental? Absolutely not.
Indra does not trip. He does not stumble. He does not lose his footing like some common fool. If he ends up against (Y/N)’s chest, pressed against the soft warmth of her body, it is entirely deliberate.
He’s not obvious about it, though. Indra is calculated. If he chooses to fall forward, it’s because he knows he can get away with it.
Maybe they’re sparring, and in a rare moment of distraction, he allows her to take him down. Instead of catching himself as he normally would, his body shifts—his hands land on her waist, his face finds the curve of her chest.
He stays there for a fraction too long. His breath warm against her skin. His fingers twitching at her sides.
And when she tenses—whether in embarrassment, shock, or something deeper—he finally lifts his head, watching her reaction carefully.
A calculated fall
(Y/N) barely had time to react before Indra collapsed into her, the sheer weight of him forcing her backward until she hit the ground with a soft, startled gasp. His body was warm, solid, heavy against hers—too heavy.
It was a mistake. It had to be.
Except when she looked up, his expression told another story.
His chin rested against her collarbone, his breath warm against her neck, but his eyes—dark, sharp, unreadable—lingered on her face with quiet intensity. His hands pressed against her waist, keeping her still, anchoring her beneath him as if he had no intention of moving.
A slow smirk curved at the corner of his lips.
-Strange,- Indra murmured, tilting his head slightly. -I never lose my balance.-
(Y/N)’s pulse stuttered.
-Y-Yeah...
Indra exhaled through his nose—almost a laugh. Then, finally, he lifted himself off her, but not without one last touch—fingers ghosting over her ribs—as if committing her shape to memory.
Accidental? No. Never.
But he would let her pretend.
For now.
Tobirama
Accidental? Yes. Mortifying? Absolutely.
Tobirama is a man of control. Everything he does is measured, precise, intentional. So when he trips, it is not on purpose. It is a horrifying, soul-leaving-his-body moment of failure.
Maybe he’s exhausted after an all-nighter, his movements sluggish when he finally stands—and suddenly, gravity takes hold.
Maybe (Y/N) is moving past him at the worst possible moment, and in his half-dazed state, he collides.
Face first.
The sound of impact is deafening in his own ears.
He freezes. He does not breathe, does not move. Maybe if he stays still, she won’t notice.
A catastrophic misstep
Tobirama had survived wars. He had survived assassination attempts. He had survived Madara Uchiha’s endless aggravation.
But this?
This was going to kill him.
One moment, he had been walking past her, utterly consumed by his thoughts. The next—he had miscalculated. A wrong step, a slight misjudgment, and suddenly, his vision was full of her.
Warmth. Softness. The curve of her chest beneath his face, the scent of her hair filling his senses.
A mistake. A colossal mistake.
(Y/N) made a noise—surprised, breathless, caught off guard—but Tobirama? He was too busy having an existential crisis.
He should move. He needed to move.
But his entire body locked up.
For the first time in his life, his mind had no immediate solution, no perfectly calculated reaction to fix the disaster unfolding.
Slowly—painfully slowly—he lifted his head.
Their eyes met.
(Y/N) blinked at him, lips parted in stunned silence. Heat bloomed across her cheeks.
Tobirama’s soul left his body.
-...I can explain,- he said, voice dangerously close to a cracked whisper.
(Y/N) swallowed. -I’d love to hear it.-
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
And then, because fate was cruel, his brother’s voice rang out from the other room.
-Tobirama? Where the hell are—
Panic surged. Survival instincts kicked in.
Before (Y/N) could react, he was gone, vanishing into thin air, shunshin the fuck away from there.
Because running away was the only logical solution.
