[heartification-deactivated20231]

jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

9k

kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

18+ content. pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm (i make this very apparent), smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. atsumu makes an appearance, mentions of pregnancy

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over.

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat.

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think.

“Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.”

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely.

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.”

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death.

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed.

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?”

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking. “Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs.

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky.

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market.

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.”

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around.

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times.

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor?

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent.

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back.

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you.

He doesn't.

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there.

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind.

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived.

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived.

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you.

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear here through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens.

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think.

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions.

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides.

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup.

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter.

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well.

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already.

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things.

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.”

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second.

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder.

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you.

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward.

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven).

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.”

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.”

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home.

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass.

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold!

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you.

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants.

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.”

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.”

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him.

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too.

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves.

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated.

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.”

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that).

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning.

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless.

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has.

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do).

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead.

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away.

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage.

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.”

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.”

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help.

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.”

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.”

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside.

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you.

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.”

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively.

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi.

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.”

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.”

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response.

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean.

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright.

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion.

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.”

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.”

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue.

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.”

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter.

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.”

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts.

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.”

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay.

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.”

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out.

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.”

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed.

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way.

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on.

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love.

You peer down into the pot.

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.”

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way.

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.”

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again.

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste.

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own.

Your fingers twitch.

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.”

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes.

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut.

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor.

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen.

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.”

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face.

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love.

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share.

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable.

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you.

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn.

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?”

It’s a little loose.

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching.

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure.

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you).

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one.

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space.

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand.

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door.

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him.

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs.

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers.

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.”

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you.

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay).

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.”

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush.

Finally, he fesses up.

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.”

You see Kiyoomi make a face.

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.”

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens.

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?”

The both of you choke.

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening.

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated.

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.”

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes.

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way.

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response.

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around.

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe.

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around.

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward.

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole.

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi.

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—”

“Miya.”

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.”

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush.

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you.

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side.

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.”

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly.

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left.

“Miya told me to confess to you.”

Your blood runs cold. Confess…?

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it.

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room.

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day.

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously.

“I wish you could come with me.”

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile.

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say.

“Goodnight, angel.”

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does).

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done.

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it.

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy.

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door.

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige.

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely.

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.”

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you.

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb.

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day.

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in.

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.”

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.”

Your mouth drops open.

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.”

You stay rooted still.

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.”

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together.

(He wants to).

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt.

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away.

“Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him.

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please.

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear.

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name.

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in.

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!”

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.”

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll.

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you.

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly.

“I love you, Kiyoomi.”

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you.

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!”

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.”

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes.

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?”

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again.

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.”

He gives an approving cluck.

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand.

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe.

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around.

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock.

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.”

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately.

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips.

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?”

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.”

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.”

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love.

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you.

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.”

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food.

“You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!”

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!”

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—”

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own.

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

[atsukashii]

✗ synopsis : imprisoned for a crime you did not commit and for being nothing other than the treasured illegitimate child of a now dead king, you’re hidden in a cage from the world. vowing to end the queen who took so much from you, you bide your time living in the dark until one day your freedom comes knocking in the form of dark eyes, and grey wind swept hair carrying the scent of the sea.

however freedom comes at a cost; help the the rugged band of pirate thieves who call the infamous nine-tails home in finding the artefact of the ancient mycenian king, and anything you could ever dream of will be in your reach. Including the sea tossed pirate who saved your life.

» pairing : osamu miya x reader

» type : series

» genre : pirate au, royalty reader, mutual pining, fluff + a pinch of angst

» warnings : mature themes (18+), language, alcohol, mentions of dark content, character death, gore

✗ 0. the prelude

✗ i. long live the king

✗ ii. thus always to tyrants

✗ iii. wicked games - coming soon

✗ iv. run boy run - coming soon

…

e x t r a  c o n t e n t

✗ playlist : kings queens & vagabonds

✗ other platforms : ao3 

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[wwmixtape]

[ part one ] [ part two ]

pairing: Dabi x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, threatening language, toxic ex, implied trauma, minor violence, mention of scars, mention of insecurities

genre: fluff, angst, flower shop AU, roommate AU, slow burn, ‘right person, wrong life’ (?)

word count: 3.4k words

synopsis: “I see only the good parts of you. I can’t tell if that’s your greatest strength or my greatest weakness.”

a/n: hi hi ! <3 sorry for being so inactive, college has begun ! im pretty busy with classes now but i will try to post :) hope you like part 2 ! pls reblog and share your thoughts ! it means a lot to me :) enjoy xx

Dabi wiped the fog from the bathroom mirror away. He dried off his hair with a towel and began to get himself dressed. He threw his dirty clothes in the laundry basket before leaving the bathroom.

“I’m home!”

Dabi walked over to the front door, seeing you carrying various grocery bags.

“I thought you were at work,” he said. You shook your head.

“Nope, I close the shop on Sunday’s. That way I can run errands and relax.”

“I don’t think those two activities go together…”

Dabi helped you bring the rest of the bags in and the groceries away.

“I had an idea of something fun for us to do tonight,” you began. Dabi raised a brow.

“So now we do stuff together?” he teased. You huffed.

“It’s just an idea. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“What is it?”

“Well the beach is just a few minutes away from here so I wanted to know if you were up for a little beach day.”

Dabi looked down at the floor. Honestly a beach day sounded nice, he hadn’t been in ages. However, there was just one problem.

“Won’t there be a lot of people at the beach?”

“I know a spot that's hidden from the main beach. That’s always where I go when I visit the beach. I understand if you don’t want people to see you…”

It’s not that, thought Dabi. It’s that he doesn’t want anyone to recognize him.

“As long as no one is around I don’t mind. We can go, I know you want to,” he said plainly. You smiled.

“Really?”

“Sure flower girl. Just don’t ask again because I’ll change my mind.”

“Alright alright. We can go closer to sunset so it won’t be so crowded either.”

You were smiling from ear to ear. Dabi leaned up against the doorframe, crossing his arms. He chuckled to himself. Is it that easy to please you?

As you packed up your bag for the beach, Dabi stared himself down in the mirror. He dragged his finger along the stitches underneath his eyes. For a long time, Dabi didn’t look at himself in the mirror. He didn’t recognize himself for a lot of reasons. Staring at the reflection and wishing to see anything else or nothing at all was a recurring theme for him. Dabi looked at his whole body, or what became of it. He wondered how you could bear to look at him.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,” you said, leaving the bathroom just as you opened the door.

“It’s okay. I’m finished anyway.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Let’s just go.”

You and Dabi walked to the sandy beach just as the sun was setting. Despite the humidity in the air, Dabi kept his jacket on and hood over his head. You tried to get to the spot you had in mind as fast as possible.

A small bridge led you over to the greenery as it met with the beach.

“See? No one is around over here,” you insisted. Dabi looked around, reassuring that there really wasn't anyone. He took a deep breath, pulling his hood down. You smiled.

“Thanks again for coming with me. I know this is a bit out of your comfort zone.”

“It’s fine. I’d be a dick if I let you go alone,” he said. You chuckled.

You laid down a blanket and set down the bag of snacks you had brought. As Dabi fished for something to eat, you spotted something near the sand dunes.

“Uh Y/N?”

“Look Dabi!”

You eagerly pointed to the fuschia plant in front of you. Dabi peaked over your shoulder.

“What is it?”

“They’re called Rosa Rugosa. They mainly grow on beaches due to their ability to tolerate the sand. They also grow fruits and berries and have a very strong scent.”

You leaned in close to the flower, taking a sniff of it’s sweet fragrance. You carefully picked one off of it’s stem.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you whispered. Dabi chuckled.

“Sure flower girl.”

You laid your head down onto the blanket, staring up at the sky. The sun had finally set, and you could see the beginnings of some of the stars. You kept the flower close to your chest. Dabi leaned back on his hands, looking out to the water.

“We should’ve brought matches for a mini fire. I’m kind of cold,” you admitted. Dabi looked at you, then down at his hands. He sighed, got up, and began to pile up some sticks.

“Dabi it's okay, I don’t have matches anyway,” you said. Dabi finished the small fire setup then took a deep breath. He ignited a small flame in the palm of his hand and handed it over to the wood, seeing the fire spread onto them. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. Dabi sat back down next to you.

“That better?”

“I-I didn’t know you had a quirk…”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

Suddenly another answer clicked in your head.

“Why wouldn’t it be? Especially with one like that, it’s super useful!” you cheered. Dabi looked at you.

“Really?”

“Of course! I like it, and the fact that your flames are blue makes it even better. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Dabi looked at the fire. Again, the way you showered him with admiration made his heart beat just a little faster, and he couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Do you have a quirk?” he asked, trying to draw attention away from himself. You chuckled nervously.

“Yeah but it’s no good compared to yours…”

“Show me.”

You sighed. You grabbed up the flower you had picked earlier and held it in your hand. It was already beginning to bend due to being cut from its roots. You gripped onto the end of the stem, watching as the flower rebloomed, just as if it were still attached to the bush.

“Tada?” you laughed. Dabi took the flower from your hands.

“I hate to ask but what did you do?”

“Basically I can force photosynthesis onto any organism that uses it. I can also use it to keep freshly cut flowers from dying. It may not be a good quirk in the real world but it’s great when you work in a flower shop. Save the plants, you know?” you explained.

“Oh okay. It definitely suits you,” he teased.

“What does that mean?”

Dabi chuckled. He took the flower and placed it behind your ear. You perked up, feeling heat rise in your cheeks.

“Exactly that. It just suits you flower girl.”

•

You handed the customer their bag and waved them goodbye as they left the shop. You looked at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes to close. Hopefully that was the last customer for today and you could lock up early.

You swept the lobby and made sure all floral arrangements were in the correct place for opening tomorrow. Just as you went to grab your keys, you heard the door chime.

“Hi there-”

You felt your heart drop to the floor. You stood frozen, trying to find the words.

“Jeez, after almost a year of not seeing me all I get is a ‘hi there’?”

“I-I thought you were a customer…”

You watched as he walked towards you. He placed his hand on your cheek. You were too shocked to refuse his touch.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.”

He tried to lean in, but you turned around, grabbing your keys.

“What are you doing here, Souta?” you asked him.

“What? Can’t I visit you?”

“I mean what are you doing in Japan?”

“It’s my mother’s birthday so I came home. Plus, I’ve missed you.”

Your eyes widened. You shook your head.

“Don’t give me that-”

“I’m surprised this little shop is still going. Still running it all by yourself?”

“Yup.”

“If you came to the states with me you wouldn’t have had to work a day in your pretty life,” smirked Souta. You rolled your eyes.

“I like working.”

“Come on Y/N, you should see my place. Tons of land, right on the West Coast. I know how much you love the beach and I could even give you your very own garden. Not the silly one you grow here.”

“If you’re trying to convince me to come to the states with you, it won’t work. My answer remains just as it did when you asked me a year ago,” you huffed. Souta sighed. You opened the front door.

“We’re closed.”

Souta chuckled. He walked over to you, standing closely in front of you.

“I was hoping we could talk some more.”

“What is there to talk about-”

Souta placed his hand on your cheek, bumping your nose with his.

“Like how you got even more beautiful while I was gone,” he whispered, “just a little bit of your time rose bud-”

“Don’t call me that.”

You pushed him away, locking your front door and making your way up to the apartment.

~

Dabi stared at the stove. Maybe he could cook something. Maybe not. He wanted to do something nice for you. Why? He didn’t know. All he knew is that he loved seeing that cheeky smile on your face and was willing to do anything for it.

Dabi looked in the pantry. Rice couldn’t be that hard to make? Dabi reached for the bag, before hearing your keys on the other side of the door. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey Y/N, why don’t we order take out-”

“I said go away, Souta!”

You tried to shut the door on him, but Souta stuck his foot into the doorframe.

“Calm down Y/N…” he groaned. Souta walked in, following behind you. Dabi clenched his fists.

“Who the hell is this?” asked Dabi as he made his way towards Souta. Souta’s eyes widened as he looked over to you. He grabbed your hand, pulling you near him.

“What the hell is that Y/N?” he shouted. You broke away from his grip, moving to block Dabi from throwing a punch.

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that!”

“You let this monster into your home?” questioned Souta. Dabi huffed, ignoring your plea to stay back. He grabbed Souta by the collar, shoving him against the wall.

“Dabi don’t-”

“Who the hell you calling a monster?” whispered Dabi. Souta trembled as he stared at Dabi.

“Y/N tell him to stop!” he begged. You clenched your fists, feeling your lips quiver.

“Souta, you have to leave.”

“Okay okay I’ll leave!”

“Promise? You need to leave me alone, for good.”

“I will I swear-”

Dabi leaned in closer to Souta, staring him down.

“If I ever catch you back here or anywhere near Y/N, I’ll kill you myself. Got it?”

Souta nodded rapidly. Dabi let go of him, watching as Souta ran out the door. Dabi rubbed the back of his head, letting out a sigh. He looked at you.

“You alright?”

You opened your mouth but no words came out. Instead, you buried your face in the palms of your hands, crying as you crashed to the floor.

Dabi sighed, closing the front door. He walked towards you, wrapping his arms around you. You stiffened up at his touch, feeling his breath travel down your back as he held you. He rocked you slowly back and forth. Dabi could hear your pounding heartbeat, making his own weaker.

“I’m so sorry…” you whispered.

“You’ve gotta stop apologizing for things out of your control, it’s stupid.”

Dabi broke away to look at you. He cupped your face, wiping away any tears left behind. You smiled softly.

“I’m such an ugly crier…” you chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re capable of looking bad.”

Dabi’s eyes widened as he realized what he had said. He didn’t take it back however. You looked down, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten as your face grew warm.

Dabi helped you to your feet, not letting go of your hand.

“Is it safe to assume that that jackass was your ex?” asked Dabi. You nodded.

“Unfortunately yes.”

“I thought you ended on good terms?” You chuckled nervously.

“Well that may have been a little bit of a white lie...basically he wanted me to move to the states with him after he got a new job. I refused because I had just gotten the shop and I wasn’t gonna give that up for him. He of course was upset and broke up with me, which honestly was exactly what I wanted. As you saw, he’s insane,” you explained, “but your little threat certainly scared him off. He definitely won’t be back for a while.”

“It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise,” said Dabi.

“You’re always so serious,” you laughed, honestly unsure if he was or not. You took a deep breath.

“So, what was it you were going to ask me before all that?”

“Oh um, can we get take-out?”

“Oh my gosh yes! That sounds amazing.”

Dabi watched as your smile came back. It amazed him how easily you could bounce back from anything. He knew you were just trying to shift the mood however.

“Mind if you order it?” he asked.

“Not at all. Just let me know what you want. Oh, and mind if we eat outside? I could use the fresh air.”

“Sure thing flower girl.”

~

You breathed in the smell of freshly cooked rice and vegetables as you handed some utensils to Dabi. You sat on the back steps of your shop. Exactly where you found Dabi those months ago.

“Take-out was a good call,” you smiled, “I was way too tired to cook.”

“I was gonna try to make something but I couldn’t really figure out what…” whispered Dabi.

“Oh well I appreciate that Dabi.”

“You do everything,” he said. You looked at him, eyes widening.

“What do you mean?”

“I just feel bad. You work all day, come home, cook, clean, and all with a smile. Then you stay up all night talking to me, watching a movie with me, or playing some dumb game with me. I feel like I should help out more,” he shrugged.

“You can help out if you want to, but I of course don’t want to make you feel obligated. And anyway, I don’t mind doing any of those things,” you insisted.

“I’ve been living with you for like five months though. I don’t really think I’ve earned my keep.”

“You don’t have to earn anything silly. Like I told you the first time, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want and leave whenever, no strings attached. I just want you to be happy, so don’t think you need to give me anything in return,” you explained. Dabi looked at your sweet face, the setting sun shining upon it. He sighed.

“I’m happy...with you.”

Dabi looked at you with widened eyes, feeling his stomach twist. He watched as you pressed your lips together, holding back a smile as you looked to the ground.

“Me too.”

Dabi reached his hand out, placing it on your cheek. The warmth radiating from it was enough to cause him to melt into a puddle. You placed your hand on top of his, tapping the metal in his skin. He flinched, almost pulling his hand back.

“Hey-it’s okay,” you whispered. You took his hand and held it with both of yours in your lap. You smiled.

“You don’t need to pretend to like what you see,” he said. You shook your head.

“I’m not. I like looking at you.”

“How?”

You looked up at him, taking his hand and kissing the top of it. Dabi’s eyes widened, his heart racing.

“I don’t know how you ended up like this. All I know is that no matter what other people say or even what you think about yourself, I think you’re perfect Dabi. Just as you are.”

You locked eyes with him, squeezing his hand. Dabi gulped.

“I’m not what you think-”

“I know. I know that you are just gonna keep telling me that and never give me an explanation but honestly I don’t care. Whatever this secret you have, I don’t think it’s as bad as you think. I’m still gonna treat you just the same.”

“No, you won’t. Not even you are that kind,” said Dabi. You sighed.

“You’ll never know unless you tell me-“

“I’m not telling you for your own sake. It’s just better this way.”

“Dabi, I know you’re hurting from something and you’re afraid to tell me but I promise you, I know you better than you think. You don’t have to be afraid. I know that you like to watch the butterflies that come outside the flower shop and have them land on your finger. I know that you like to add extra wasabi to your sushi even though you hate the aftertaste. I know you always ask me how my day was because you actually want my honest answer. I know that you are a better person than you choose to believe. Dabi, you aren’t the monster that you think you are. That I know for sure.”

Dabi looked at the gravel on the ground, turning away from you. He pressed his lips together, trying his best to not cry in front of you. That was something he could never do. You placed your hand underneath his chin, having him look at you again.

“I see only the good parts of you. I don’t know if that’s your greatest strength or my greatest weakness. What I do know is that there aren't enough bad parts of you to make me change how I feel.”

Ignorance is bliss, thought Dabi. Your ignorance certainly had you in a state of peace. Maybe that was how it should be then. Believing that the man in front of you was just as innocent as he led on.

He sighed, moving a bit closer to you. Dabi brought your head to his chest, wrapping his arms around you. You took a deep breath, holding him back.

“I really got lucky getting caught up with you flower girl,” chuckled Dabi. You smiled, looking up at him.

“Speak for yourself.”

You chuckled, beginning to put away the garbage from your dinner. Dabi sat up, stretching his arms up. He looked at the flower beds on your shop windows.

“Do you have a favorite flower?” asked Dabi. You looked at him, smiling. You moved to stand beside him.

“I like them all. It’s so hard to pick just one.”

Dabi smiled, giving you a nudge.

“Come on, I know you have one.”

You looked up at Dabi, your face growing warm.

“Cherry blossoms. I think they get overlooked as flowers since they are just attached to trees. I love that they symbolize renewal, so every cherry blossom season is a new start,” you explained.

“I guess I never thought of them like that,” said Dabi, “guess I’ll have to see the flowers and not just the trees next time.”

Dabi gave you a smirk, making your chest get tight.

“Do you have a favorite flower?” You asked him. Dabi sighed, scratching the back of his head.

“Uh yeah I guess so…it’s those.”

Dabi pointed to the plant that creeped out of the gravel. Your heart stopped and you looked up at him.

“W-What?”

“Um yeah…so when I was living on my own, I just kinda saw them everywhere. It felt like they were looking out for me…and I felt a little less alone.”

You stared the plant down, then you looked back at Dabi, seeing his nervous expression.

“God that sounds so stupid-”

“It’s not stupid. Not at all,” you reassured him. Dabi bent down, picking the flower and holding it between his index and thumb.

“I wish I knew what they were called,” he said.

“Well actually Dabi those are…”

Ignorance is bliss, you thought. His ignorance certainly brought him comfort when nothing else could. What right do you have to take that away?

“…dandelions. They’re called dandelions.”

Dabi smiled, looking at the orange tinted plant he held.

“Dandelions huh? Well Y/N, my favorite flowers are dandelions.”

“Good choice.”

“Keep this one alive for me?”

Dabi placed the dandelion behind your ear, before dragging his finger along your jaw and gently holding your chin. He tilted your head up to look at him, feeling his heart pound. Your breath hitched as he moved just a few inches away from your burning face. You locked eyes with him, feeling the air grow hot.

“Anything for you.”

reblogs are sexy and so are you <3

[michaki-deactivation-deactivate]

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

summary: coming from a distance with your best friend back to your home country, you took the time to make the most of it— even meeting a boy who you ended up getting too comfortable with, almost a little too easy.

genre: crack/humor, fluff and angst

warning: swearing, a lot of suggestive themes

status: just started

taglist: closed

introductions:

meet the characters ♡

table of contents:

chapter one: prowl for some cock

chapter two: GIVE IT TO ME DADDY

chapter three: dumbass

chapter four: ...this is my thirteenth reason.

chapter five: you’ve already seen my tits.

chapter six:

chapter seven:

chapter eight:

chapter nine:

chapter ten:

more to come +

tags — inbox asks: answered

📱 — easy

© 2021 michaki. All rights reserved and please do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

[fuchsiateasims]

Murder Mystery - A Reshade 3.0 Preset for TS4!

(Click pictures to view in full quality!)

I needed something that could withstand the dark, cloudy weather of Seasons, so this preset was based largely around that need, haha! Overall it’s warmer, softer, and a little more color-neutral than some of my other presets. I hope you like it!

Important Things to Note:

-This was made using Reshade 3.0.8, and I highly recommend you use Reshade 3.0! I can’t guarantee this will work the same with other versions, though some of my followers have told me presets are compatible with the later versions of Reshade beyond 3.1

-To install, be sure to drop the file here:  C:\Program Files (x86)\Origin Games\The Sims 4\Game\Bin

-Click here for a handy guide on installing Reshade if you’re new to it!

-You need to have edge smoothing and post-processing effects turned off for the DOF effect to work.

-Screenshots must be taken with the ‘print screen’ key, and will populate in the same location you installed the preset in.

-This preset is made for taking cinematic screenshots, and not really suitable for gameplay. Sorry!

-DOF can be toggled on and off with Caps Lock.

Feel free to tag me if you use this! I always love seeing your stuff! <3

DOWNLOAD

[herbaltrees]

some concept playlists i made bc why not :]

antarctic empire // the snow is falling while i stare at you. we have nothing left besides each other—i almost prefer it this way.

(https://open.spotify.com/user/kiychv/playlist/5rXFk5TB6IvTC7lWTcFaXS?si=KUTN4sPXTf2xBpm06-UNjw)

shadows in your bedroom // there is a shadow staring at me in your bedroom. you don’t seem to notice. i shiver in fear, you offer me a blanket.

(https://open.spotify.com/user/kiychv/playlist/7EzWxFH1bUJ0q6Y81UgDB1?si=jHDPw8p-TPybaNVGqDoJKw)

the dog days // a playlist for the young, naive, and free

(https://open.spotify.com/user/kiychv/playlist/28Rr0VJjotm3guaiUcBr2S?si=EJr_VMdXQTq_BZAARsIodA)

caged bird // the choice between freedom or loyalty was never in your power. you just hope the blood on your hands wouldn’t stain

(https://open.spotify.com/user/kiychv/playlist/3mMlKV03TpY3XjuYvCpxPt?si=tcpHsgAJTySUEoeOCgAUPQ)

[simlicioussarah-deactivated2022]

Astrophile Trait

Make your Sims Astrophiles :) they will love looking at the stars and doing outdoor stuff like being around the fireplace… anything that brings them close to starlit skies.

DOWNLOAD

[simkhira]

I Have 300+ Gameplay Mods?! & Yes, They All Work Together…

Yes, you read that correctly. I have over 300 gameplay mods / overrides in my game. 340 to be exact. & Yes, they all work just fine together. By that I mean hardly any last exceptions / errors. So if you are looking for ways to spice up your game - here you go, sis:

⭐ = my ultimate faves

PLEASE SEE ALL 300+ LINKS ON YOUR MOBILE DEVICE! desktop tumblr won’t let us be great.

Keep reading

[poruvoron]

barbara and hu tao!!

[viv-url]

genshin impact sketchies

[electra-pylades]

The Great  Sakura Haruno Fanfiction Recommendation List

Otherwise known as my September 2019 Fanfiction Roundup 

The Get-Goods: In which our girl Sakura gets to train and become the bad ass she was always meant to be. (most romantic pairings are minimal). 

Retrograde Motion by Crunchysunrises -  From sixteen to eleven didn’t feel like a big jump until she realized that she was now the best ninja in their class. And that tiny Sasuke hates her for it. [My all time favorite Naruto fanfic. Funny and filled with incredible world building. This is what canon Naruto wishes it was]

Expedient by SwiftKick - Konoha and Iwa sign a truce and agree to an Exchange Program between recently promoted genin to “bolster village relations.” Fortunately, if anything were to go wrong, Haruno Sakura was just average enough to risk losing. [This one really plays with the idea of Sakura as a Redshirt and what that would do to your psyche. There’s some Deidara/Sakura, but it’s mostly focused on her growth.]

a girl in the forest of moss and bone by theformerone -  Katsuyu spits acid in her eyes, and Sakura must prove herself worthy enough for the slugs of Shikkotsu Forest to heal. [Sakura goes to Shikkotsu Forest to become a Slug Sage. This one feels like Naruto by way of Princess Mononoke.] 

Pulling My Weight by itsthechocopuff - During their mission to Wave, Sakura realises how behind she is in her training and decides to do something about it. She vows to become a shinobi her Village and her teammates can respect and depend on.

Survival of the Fittest by  cywscross -  Sakura is thirteen, still a Genin, lost in the middle of Earth Country, lugging an unconscious Chuunin around, and so far beyond scared that she’s moved right on to pissed off.

How To Save The World With No One Even Realizing by IncompleteSentanc (Erava) - It all starts with Rin’s kidnapping, and her subsequent rescue at the hands of a mysteriously appearing, monstrously strong, murderously violent woman. A woman with cotton candy pink hair.

Kill Your Heroes by Evil Is A Relative Term - It’s time to stop waiting for other people to save you. A story about fear, resilience, and Sakura.

Dirt and Ashes, or: The One-and-a-Half Body Problem by Tozette -  The invasion of Konoha during the chuunin exam didn’t fail. Team seven is broken, people are dead, and Sakura is hurt and frightened and a very long way from home.

ABO:  In which ABO Fics treat the female characters better than the canon. 

Gratuitous Title Here, Please by Esloriath -  Sakura Haruno has hidden her omega status for as long as she can remember. What happens when an unplanned fight with the Akatsuki drains her of her last chakra reserves - those she uses to mask her scent?

Taken by MistressDragonFlame - Haruno Sakura was an Omega. She didn’t let her status hold her back, becoming a Jounin of Konohagakure, a disciple of the Godaime Hokage, and the strongest shinobi in the village. All she had to ensure was that she managed her heats, and kept a respectful distance between herself and her Alpha teammates.

Heart Under a Blade by yunyu -  Kakashi suspects the universe is out to punish him for his failures in the most poetic and painful matter possible, but he’s pretty sure he deserves it.

YOUNGins: In which our baby is a baby - and also a bad ass. 

The Flowers Cherish You by  ich_bin_ein_stern -  Nature has always cared for Sakura and Sakura has always loved nature. They have a beautiful, strong bond. But can such a bond withstand the tragedies that follow a shinobi’s life? 

About Face by  wroth_and_ruin  - A little yellow-haired boy saves Sakura from the bullies. And everything changes.

Time Flies Like an Arrow by  Katlou303 -  Sakura traveled back in time with the intent of changing everything, but something went wrong, and now she’s four years old having nightmares about impossible monsters and losing friends she has yet to meet.

Freedom in the Eyes of Another by Oroburos69 -   The Wave Mission was a failure. They got caught, captured, taken-it didn’t end well. Now Sakura has a half-heard order, uncut fingernails, and more desperation than bravery. One way or another, she’s getting Team Seven out today.

ROMANCE: 

How & Why by  randomsomeone - A psychological war gets completely out of control. Lust doesn’t cut it and love doesn’t just happen, so how else can it work? [One of the all time Greats. Gaara/Sakura]

Heartbeat by letmeannoyyoutoday -  From the beginning of their relationship, Sakura never failed to thank Sasuke for every little gesture that he made. It took a while for him to realize that the reason she did it was because, the moment she accepted to be his wife and give him all that she had left to give, she honestly never expected to receive anything in return. [One of the few stories that made me really care about this couple. SasuSaku]

In Case of Blue Scroll by Leola Majora -   In Case of Blue Scroll the Hokage must lock himself in his office and pull his hair out as what he thought were memories of a long lost love turn out to be the memories of a mission he was about to assign his former student, Sakura Haruno.

Roommates From Hell (and Other Miscalculations) by Crunchysunrises -  Itachi has a girlfriend.  So does Kakashi.

Ikebana by waitingatthecrossroads -  She should never have caught his attention. Pursued by a prodigy, can Sakura manage to escape Itachi’s determined clutches? Will she even want to?

CROSS OVERS and AUs 

Menagerie by Crunchysunrises -  Twelve of Konohagakure’s shinobi are cursed by the animals of the zodiac. Most of them are pretending to be Sakura’s pets. [Fruits Basket meets Naruto] 

The Natural Habitat of Haruno Sakura by Tozette - Sakura moves to a new town to attend university and desperately needs to find a cheap room in a share house.Luckily, the Akatsuki need a new housemate.

[wolfythewitch]

Hello I’m soft for these two gshdvdh

[maggieobyrnepoetry]

Research ideas for bored students

The evolution of national identity in the country of your interest (ancient or modern)

The influence of paganism on christianity in Ireland and Scotland.

The impact that fairy beleif had on the Scottish witch hunts.

How fashion was influenced by the second world war.

The differences between and evolution of first, second and third wave feminism.

The impact the post-modern globalism has had on human rights.

Depictions of homosexuality in the ancient world (are there similarities/differences between nations?)

The evolution of tavern and drinking cultue in England, Scotland and the Netherlands.

The portrayal of women in early-modern English ballads.

The use of certain tunes or melodies in E.M. English ballads.

Portrayals of the devil in E.M. English ballads.

The difference between collective memory and historical facts (war is a time when our memories are often romanticised).

Fashion in the Elizabethan era and how it changed after.

The evolution of pens and writing materials

Historical methods of making paint/paint thinners.

Men in the early-modern witch hunts.

Differences between old world and new world witch hunts.

The use of torture in witch trials and the laws regarding torture (differences between countries)?

The use of salt as currency.

Depictions of intoxiication in ancient art.

How ancient societies viewed drinking and how they drank.

The lives of great poets.

The decline of the latin language.

The English civil war during the 17 century.

The relationship between ancient Celts and the Romans.

Religious symbolism in early modern art.

The history and evolution of marriage.

“In Praise of Folly,” by Desiderius Erasmus

The Protestant Reformation and/or the resulting split of protestantism (calvinism, lutheranism, anabaptists, etc.)

The history of Christmas in the new world.

Add your own in the comments!

[gardenforsparrows]

For all you students who are suddenly finding yourself with online classes, here is list of graduate students who are willing to help out with anyone struggling and our specialties/areas of interests. We’re all colleagues and we’re all in this together! Let’s be a true academic community and support each other as much as possible in the coming months.

ceebycee - introductory physics, modern physics, quantum mechanics, astronomy, calculus (differential, integral, multivariable), linear algebra

@feamir - upper level physics and math

@andbeavillain - anything science and math related up to the university level, editing papers of any subject for clarity and grammar

@softcroft - biochemistry, biology (particularly genomics and transcriptomics), public health, epidemiology, social and behavioural health, PH biostats, organic chemistry, scientific writing, presentations, resume/CV/interview prep for bio sciences, Latin language

@cancerbiophd - biology (human physiology, mammalian cells, biology lab techniques, cancer), fellowship applications, grant writing, presentations, academic/scientific communication

irishfencer456 - biology (genetics, cell biology, signal transduction, intro biology subjects), technical writing, fellowship applications, grant writing, presentations, academic/scientific communication

@studyevergreen - environmental studies, biology, lower level chemistry, physiology, toxicology, environmental education, environmental governance, high school level subjects, proofreading and editing

@adelicateculturecell - general biology, genetics, basic chemistry

@xmarksthenerd - general biology, molecular biology, some orgo and biochemistry, algebra and geometry

thesleepiestsleepscientist - biochemistry, systems neuroscience, human physiology

@my-lions-mane - anatomy, human biology/anatomy, developmental biology, biochemistry, forensic toxicology, microbiology, interviews, applications, and statments

@narrativerehearsal - osteoarchaeology, archaeological science (isotopes, radiocarbon dating), skeletal anatomy and pathology, general archaeology and world prehistory, some medieval history (mainly British), some zooarchaeology

caffeinated-phd - computer science, Java, Scala, Python, C, C++, C#, Haskell, HTML, CSS, JavaScript

@professorerudite - English and Japanese

@myskyisempty - psychology, educational psychology, counseling and education

@gardenforsparrows - outdoor education/recreation, environmental education, environmental science, program evaluation, GIS, lower level english and literature

And speaking for myself, I’m more than happy to chat or answer questions about what I’m studying for anyone who’s curious, regardless of whether or not your studying it!

It you want to be on (or off) this list, just send me a message.

[solistair]

Yaroslav Turtleneck

Slim fit with a loose touch in the right place, this rolled up turtleneck is now ready for all the male sims to STUN! ♥ (I’m obsessed cough)

Base Game Compatible

Ribbed sweater texture

14 colour swatches

All LODs

👉 Download on my Patreon (Early Access!) 👉 (Public Access on 2 January)

Your pledge as my patreon and coffee at ko-fi help me so much as I’m currently unemployed and every single penny goes to rent and food. Thank you so very much for your support, truly, and I wish you a lovely day!

[bunbunzsims1]

✿ Doll eyes ✿

Face paint category

26 colors

HQ compatible

Download here

✿ Terms of use ✿

Do not Re-upload my work

Do not use my pictures without my permission

Thank you for your support! ❤︎

[kumikya]

VANESSA OUTFIT

hi guys ! i made something pretty simple this time. it was kind of relaxing making this cus i didn’t have to spend time making mesh changes and fixing problems lol the outfit is actually a skirt + top combo! i hope you enjoy it :-)

details:

top + skirt in matching 10 solid swatches

correct normal, lods, specular, etc

tagged for everyday, party & hot weather; disabled for random

base game compatible

DOWNLOAD @ PATREON (alt)