#dira.texts

The bell over the door pulls him from the meditative act of cleaning the counter, his thoughts far, far away for a second before they, too, arrive in his little shop.

"Hey!" His mouth pulls into a smile at your sight. "What'cha doing here?"

"Where were you?" You ask, stiffling a snort. "You looked a little high there, for a moment."

"Not high," he grumbles, leaning in for a kiss when you step closer, the counter between you making the small gesture of love all the sweeter. "Just, uh, in the clouds."

"So, high," you conclude, laughing softly. "I got you something, by the way."

"What for?" Osamu hesitates, checking the calendar by the door. "I didn't forget our anniversary, right?"

"Nope," the paper bag crinkles as you drop it on the counter. "You wanna guess?"

Osamu eyes the paper. "Is it something to eat?"

"You can eat it, but I wouldn't advise it. Guess again."

"Is it expensive?"

"Well, I went out of my way to get it custom-made, so, yes, it did cost a pretty penny, but it's not that expensive-" You laugh louder at his exasperation. "I promise you'll like it, I promise."

"I'm gonna come around this counter and tickle the truth out of ya, ya-"

You pull a onesie out of the paper bag and unfold it, holding it up for him to see. "Alright, no reason to pull out the big guns."

Osamu looks. Furrows his brows. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

You blink. "Uh, yes, it's on the Onesie."

"Greatest Uncle in the world? Are ya sleeping with Tsumu? He doesn't even have a girlfriend."

"Oh SHIT!" You turn the onesie around. "No, I got the wrong one. Wait!"

It's there in the paper bag, slipped under the onesie you picked out first, black just like Osamu's uniform, the font white and bold.

"My Daddy owns Onigiri Miya," Osamu reads from the front, and you can tell how his brain stutters to a halt. You turn the onesie so he can read the words on the back, too. "But I choose the menu."

"Yer pregnant?" Osamu asks, his voice breathy and high. "Like, for real?"

"Ding, ding, ding, you guessed right!" You laugh, though your heart is jumping around in your throat like Bokuto on the court. "You like it?"

He pulls you in over the counter instead, kissing your lips, your eyes, the corner of your mouth. "Scared me for a hot second."

You laugh, reliefed and breathless and endlessly happy. "You're just bad at guessing."

@sippn-the-tae

Is this just me or is this annoying to other people as well?

I used to read tons of romance novels, and I don't think they used to be better in the past; I just don't think I noticed it as much as I do nowadays. Because what do you mean you let a stranger take care of your newborn baby for an hour while you showered just because he was hot???

Me and Kenma were best friends and while we never talked about it openly to others, we both knew we were going to get married. So we had this rock solid relationship with each other, went through life changes from college to getting a job and moving out and everything. He's a very generous gifter and I was (weirdly enough) a talented baker, so we ended up buying a small island where we could open up a bakery and become a tourist hotspot. (I also did a lot of jewelry making and there was a short stint in which we broke into random apartments to check out bathrooms and mattresses which was kinda weird, lol)

Kenma's very big on fulfilling my every wish and I wanted a machine that would not only treat my flour but also mix everything together very well, and there was one but it needed five or six cows to work (yes, weird, I know) that run in a circle. But I'm being extra, so I don't want to work with cows.... The solution and answer to my every wish? HIPPOs. Yes, I got five Hippos to work in my bakery, because they are my favorite animal (next to cats) and also not really known for being work friendly. But I get them, and I love them and everything works great, but there's a school nearby where I do jewelry making classes on the side and the director is sending the health department to do check ups on my bakery because she insists that working with hippos can't be good for the cakes.

That's when I woke up.

I am trying to be a gentle parent with myself (and keep myself from starting a carving project) but if I don't write as much as I used to until the marathon is over, you now know why.