Hey this lineart doesn’t look that bad!
*turns off sketch layer*
*stands* hi everybody, my name is sara and i am addicted to knb. thank you. *sits down*
*stands again* uh and midorima might be one of my faves… *sits down and avoids eye contact*
omg you know what fic i really need that i for sure can’t write because it’s just basically fluff? single father!sousuke & idk grad student!makoto
makoto can be anything but like sousuke should definitely be a father
can someone write it?
or draw it?
or do something with it?????
sousuke who has to start picking up night shifts at the precinct and his partner rin recommends this guy he knows through his boyfriend haru that is an absolute sweetheart—”yeah he has two younger siblings so he ended up being really good with kids! it’ll be fine, sousuke.” so sousuke meets the guy and is like. “oh. oh, now i see what rin meant and oh no this guy is really attractive—”
and. it goes from there with makoto trying to be discreet when he asks rin about sousuke’s backstory ie “so where’s the mom, where does sousuke come from”
rin catching on and playing matchmaker despite haru’s half-hearted grumbling about how he’s ruining his best friend’s innocence
sousuke coming home after a late night to find his daughter (or son it doesn’t matter, i suppose) and makoto cuddled on the couch, the menu screen from a ghibli movie playing softly in the background
sousuke surprising them by coming home early enough for dinner so makoto is about to leave because he doesn’t need to stay late but sousuke grabs his wrist and asks him to stay for dinner
makoto runs from what they could have, and sousuke chases him down for the same reason
for soumako week. prompt: angst. 570 words.
written for sara, my soumako partner-in-crime, and who fleshed this scenario out with me last night. <3
His throat is closing up, leaving him incapable of breathing and of processing and of even thinking. All because Sousuke is looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and with fists clenched at his sides.
Makoto had been expecting this conversation since this morning, when he left his apartment—the one Sousuke had just moved into.
(left, completely and utterly, with nothing except a note saying ‘sorry, sousuke, but i can’t do this’ left on the empty pillow)
Barely able to look at Sousuke, Makoto finds himself wishing he could have avoided this conversation just a little longer.
He should know better by now, though—and he does, because he knows Sousuke.