Part of the Family: Sojiro x Fem!Reader.

1800areyouslapping:

A commission done for the lovely Gal Pals anon ❤ You’re the best friend of the youngest Shimada. She wanted sister!reader so I gave what’s normally a reader a name, just for this fic, Chiyo. One night you run into her father, Sojiro. And then keep running into him. Curious. You’re starting to think he may like you. Almost 6k. 

Warnings: Mild sexual content, mild gore, and mild violence. 

Very few people can say they’re friends with a Shimada. In fact, very few would even be able to boast about being general acquaintances with one. Though, not everyone wants to be associated with the name. Nor seek out friendship with a Shimada. Some even vehemently hate the name and would never want to be associated with it, or would rather like to destroy it.

They’re unapproachable. They’re trouble. They’re dangerous. They’re drama. Have you heard the rumors? Have you seen the news? Yes, you have. On both fronts. And you couldn’t agree more with the public opinion. You by no means have rose-tinted glasses on. You know exactly what you’re walking into every time you pull up to the gate and wait patiently to be cleared for your entry.  

The snipers are aware of your presence. They see you from their perches, and you know this. It’s the same drill every time. Approach. Stand. Wait. It’s not as if they haven’t seen your face plenty of times before, but you’re still not allowed in unless Chiyo comes to the front gate to personally approve your entry onto the estate.

It used to offend you, it still truthfully does. You’ve never come here harboring any ill-will or any intentions to spy. You’ve only ever come here to be with your best friend. But like always you swallow your pride. You’re mature enough to understand that it’s nothing personal. They can never be too careful.

You look down at your phone. You texted her, oh, ten minutes ago? “What is keeping that girl?” you wonder out loud.

Keep reading

The Misunderstanding

$5 commission for @krenee1drful Thank you!! 🙂

You rolled your eyes, got off the recliner, and left the living room. Hanzo was watching his Japanese TV shows again. Another stupid game show with unnecessarily goofy activities for the contestants. You got tired of how he kept uttering, “Fools,” at the screen but never changing the channel. Despite disliking the show, he was engrossed. It reminded him of home, so you let it be.

Your phone announcing a message broke him out of his daze. He bent over to reach for it and call you over to come get it. The screen lit up with a message, and he accidentally read it.

“It came back positive,” it said. From Angela, the doctor. She was the best, and Hanzo insisted you see her only. The message must be concerning a test, but you never mentioned going in for a test during your last checkup.

You walked back into the room, laughing off your forgetfulness, and picking up your phone. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and then left. Hanzo’s solemn gaze followed you out of the room.

He wasn’t sure how to deal with this. The rest of his shows passed in a blur while he considered what test could have been positive. He was convinced it was bad or else you would have told him immediately. You didn’t. Hanzo held you tighter that night while you slept. He kissed the back of your neck every so often, having trouble drifting off himself.

The next week was slow, agonizing torture for him. You didn’t broach the subject, you just complained that you were so tired. When you weren’t looking, he googled ‘fatigue’ as a symptom to try to determine what disease it belonged to. Hanzo retreated into his own head, trying to figure this out instead of just asking you what was wrong. Anything that interrupted his search, irritated him. He didn’t realize you would notice the change.

Hanzo was holding you tightly from behind when you asked him if anything was up.

“I have to ask one thing first,” he replied. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

His question had you thinking. You do omit a few unimportant facts here and there when it might lead to an argument. Hanzo had more than a few sore topics. But you didn’t omit anything lately as far as you know.

“That you’re sick,” he said in a dead-serious tone.

“I’m not sick! What makes you think that?”

You wiggled to loosen his hold and then rolled over to face him. You saw Hanzo’s features outlined in pale-blue moonlight filtered dimly through the blinds.

He sighed. “I may have seen a message from Dr. Ziegler by accident. It said a test was positive.”

“Well, I know you didn’t look on purpose,” you told him, assuaging the guilt you knew he was feeling. “But!” You poked his cheek with a finger and smiled. “The test was not for something bad. It was a pregnancy test.”

Shock spread across his face. The truth was, you could have told Hanzo sooner, but you were nervous about his reaction. It might be another sore spot you didn’t know about. Instead of panicking, he relaxed against his pillow as the shock faded into a relieved smile.

“That is the best news that I could ever hear.”

Hanzo looked like he might cry as you shared a quick kiss and entangled yourselves back into a tight hold. You got a resurgence of energy to discuss potential baby names, how you were going to make the apartment ready, and what the baby might look like.