#he is my beautiful...UGLY...son | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seumyo · 6 months ago

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husband!bakugou thinks you’re a hypocrite

Photo albums are a way to physically preserve memories. Memories that should’ve been buried with the past—forgotten as the years go by.

Thankfully, Mama Mitsuki lent you Bakugou’s old photo album when you mentioned it in passing. A thick photo album that had “Katsuki Memory” in its title and even a design of a cartoonish bomb, finished in this beautiful silver and gold. Fancy for a baby album, but they could afford it, so you didn’t have much say.

Your husband’s sprawled across the bed with his head in your lap, scrolling through his phone, absolutely oblivious to your scheming.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Bakugou grunted, not looking up.

“You were… Katsuki, honey, the light of my life—you were such an ugly baby.”

That got his attention. He set his phone aside, sitting up immediately. “The hell?”

You turned the album toward him, pointing at a grainy, slightly overexposed photo of newborn Katsuki. His face was scrunched up, red and wrinkled, his head oddly shaped from the ordeal of birth.

“I mean, look at you!” you said, unable to keep your laughter contained any longer.

He snatched the album from your hands, staring at the photo in question. “Tch, all babies look like this.”

“No, they don’t!”

“Yes they do!”

“Kats, I love you, but I’ve seen plenty of newborns, and most of them are at least kinda cute. You, though? You look like a grumpy little potato that just got yanked out of the ground.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his ears turning red as he tried to defend himself. “I just got born! Give me a break!”

You doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach. “Certainly born with a face that only a mother could love.” A face that you also loved.

“Alright, that’s enough!” he barked, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He closed the album with a loud thud and tossed it onto the nightstand. “You’re lucky I don’t blow that damn thing to bits.”

“Your Mom would be devastated. I would be too.”

“Shut.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your laughter dying down. “I’m sorry, hun. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting that. You’re so good-looking now, but baby Katsuki? He was… something else.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, glaring at you like a sulking child. “Bet you weren’t some perfect baby, either.”

“I was adorable; thank you very much,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

“Show a picture or you’re lyin’.”

You showed him a newborn picture of you, and that shut him up. Bakugou had lost the battle and the war—because the gods must have a favorite.

“Fucking unfair,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. You looked so cute and small. Who knew this little spawn would be his wife someday?

You leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Hey, ugly or not, you’re my grumpy little potato, and I love you.”

He grumbled under his breath, but the way his hand found yours and squeezed it gently told you he wasn’t really mad. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone about this, got it?”

“No promises.”

Bakugou grunted. Fucking perfect.

“Awe, look at him, Katsuki,” you murmured, brushing a gentle finger across your son’s chubby cheek.

The little boy was fast asleep, his tiny fists curled in his adorably tiny mittens near his face. His resemblance to Bakugou was uncanny—he had the same spiky tufts of blonde hair and a natural pout that made your heart melt. The chubbiness of his cheeks was a bonus, seeing that a healthy son was all that you could ever wish for.

Bakugou sighed quietly, his attention drifting to his son. “Tch. ‘Course he is. He’s my kid.”

You chuckled, glancing at him. “I mean, yeah, but he looks just like you. I can’t believe it.”

“Why can’t you believe it?” He can’t help but ask.

“Because,” you began, your voice dropping into a joking tone.

“Remember when I saw what you looked like as a baby? And, well…”

He narrowed his eyes. That again.

“Don’t start.”

“I mean it, though. He’s adorable. He even has your pout.”

Bakugou leaned forward, resting his arms against the crib, although not putting his entire weight on it. “Yeah, and? You callin’ me cute now?”

“Maybe. But only because you look better now than you did when you were fresh out of the womb.”

“Hypocrite,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re sittin’ there, gushin’ about how cute he is,” he said, gesturing toward their son. “But when it was me, you couldn’t stop talkin’ about how ugly I was. And now you’re all, ‘Oh, he looks just like you!’ Make up your damn mind, woman.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to wake your baby baby boy. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little harsh about baby you. But come on, Katsuki. He’s the improved version of you.”

“Improved, my ass. He’s just like me, end of story.”

“He got my eyebrows, that’s for sure. See? Improved version.”

“You have a problem with my eyebrows?” He scoffs in mock offense, crossing his arms.

You leaned toward him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, if he grows up with your temper and your attitude, I’ll definitely know where he got it from.”

“And if he grows up teasin’ people to death like you, I’ll know where that came from,” he replied, though there was no real heat in his words.

You both fell silent for a moment, your eyes drifting back to your son. The little boy shifted in his sleep, letting out a soft coo that made your heart swell—like it could burst any moment now.

“Hun,” you said softly, your teasing tone gone. “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

Bakugou leaned closer, resting a hand on your shoulder as he gazed down at your son. His usual sharp expression softened into something almost unrecognizable—pure, unfiltered love.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “He is.”

You looked at him, smiling. “You’re going to be such a great dad, you know that?”

“Tch. Of course,” he muttered, though the redness creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I’ll be the best dad the world has ever seen.”

...

“Just… don’t let him see my baby pictures in the future, got it?”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

For now, anyway.

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tojisun · 7 months ago

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cw: john price x f!reader - older man/younger girl; smut; smidge daddy kink; meet cute or smthn

thinking about being moderately creeped out when the waiter came your way and told you that your tab has actually been settled by that gentleman over there.

and you’re quite hesitant to look around and acknowledge the gentleman’s presence but your friends are whooping, making kissy faces and being so embarrassingly obvious at their own checking-out that you bit the bullet and turned around, dutifully ignoring the lump lodged in your throat—

oh.

well, that’s one good looking man, sure. kind of young for your taste though, if you’re being honest but if he’s treating you and your friends, then you guess that’s—

the man beside him turns, meets your gaze, and shoots you a sultry wink.

his scruff and his hair is a mess of salt and pepper, and he’s got crinkles around his eyes as he smiles, and he’s got tan skin like he just spent a summer in greece while you were honest to god killing yourself for your capstone as your graduation is coming close, and—

“yeah,” your friend laughs, all sleazy. “he’s your type, ain’t he? a fucking dilf.”

oh.

so that younger one is—

god, he’s almost twice your age then if that kid’s his son. what the fuck that’s—

“please shoot your shot before we lose this group-sugar daddy,” another one of your friends chirps and that forces an ugly snort your way but mr. dilf doesn’t even look turned off by the way his smile just grew and- oh god, he’s standing up and he’s moving close and—

“hey, sweetheart,” he says and honestly the british accent is just uncalled for.

“hi,” you reply after being jabbed on your side.

his scruff dances as his humour bloats. he nods his head to the group and turns back at you.

fuck, yeah okay so— “thanks for that, by the way. you didn’t have to.”

he shrugs. “i wanted to. ‘sides, all that money ought to be spent on a pretty thing, don’t you think?”

pretty thing — does he mean you?

that…

that honestly does it for you.

your cheeks tingle with warmth as shyness creeps in. you feel yourself slowly clamming up, still so painfully unused to being the point of attraction. no one has ever liked you above your friends, but there he is, so suave and beautiful in his tan and charming in an honestly concerning way as he pours all his attention to you. not them but you.

“do you want to, uh, go somewhere? show me around or something?”

he huffs a fond laugh and offers his hand — big and callused, with a scar drawn across his whole palm — and says, “thought you’ll never ask.”

he pulls you up. “name’s john.” he tips his head back to his table, one that’s now bar of the other patron. “that was my son, lucas.”

you didn’t even notice that john’s hand has left your own until you felt it on the small of your back.

“and what about you?”

“huh?” you ask, trying to focus on not tripping on your feet.

“what shall i call you, sweetheart?”

“oh,” you say, blinking, before muttering your name.

john hums something deep in the base of his throat.

“beautiful.”

and, somehow, you know that he doesn’t just mean your name but he means you.

(it ends with you on his hotel bed, speared open by his cock. you’ve never been this wet before, walls all loose and squelching as he fucks it even deeper, punching the head into the pucker of your cervix.

john is all quiet grunts, animalistic as he devours you.

jesus, this man couldn’t truly be almost twice your age — how the fuck is he moving this way?

he fills you up to the point of tears, and fills you up even more, pushing and pressing in until he’s all snug in you, his pelvis flushed to yours. you feel so full. so stuffed that you couldn’t even moan right, raspy breaths all that could puff out of you.

“s’good!” you hiccup, sobbing, twitching at the drag of his cock as john pulls out only to choke on your own voice when he fucks in.

“jo-hnnn, s’good! s’good!”

“yeah?” he grunts, scruff tickling the shell of your ear. “y’feel so good ‘round me, darling. tight like a vice. christ, has no one ever fucked you open? stretched you out good?”

you shake your head, whining because no. no one’s fucked you this way. no one’s filled you this way. and if they did, everything’s been overwritten by john.

and his thick fingers and wide palms and his fat cock, fucking in, in, in.

“oh, darlin’,” he croons, his skin slapping against your own. “don’t worry, then, love. daddy’s going t’fix you up, ‘kay? daddy’s going t’make you feel so good, i promise.”

daddy—

fuck.

fuck.)

#suns #john price x reader #john price #john price smut #cw daddy kink

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cursezoroark · 1 year ago

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RUBY POKESPE (mental illness)

#talk #god ok i wish i was well literate so i can properly assemble my thoughts but i love his character and how flawed he is and how he #has to face his issues kicking and screaming and he's. he has issues. he's his father's son. he's also not his father's son.#he needs therapy. he would rather die.#he loves and loves so much but fears intimacy he pushes people far far away.#maybe in parts of beauty and the ugliness of being close to someone. aka sapphire.#he's so mentally ill i get him. i fling him like a ragdoll

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tender-rosiey · 9 months ago

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Can u do a drabble with jjk men where their child gets into a physical fight?

"MY KID IS NOT GUILTY, YOUR HONOR!"

— when your kid with gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto, and toji gets into a fight (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

your husband happily swings your hands together, as you walk to the principal’s office. meanwhile, you’re worried sick about s/n and what happened to him.

satoru rubs your hand reassuringly before slamming the door open and yelling, “did you win?!”

your eyes widen, but before you interject, s/n replies back enthusiastically, “yes, I did!”

you hurry to your son, kneeling in front of him to check him thoroughly.

you let out a sigh of relief when you see that he isn’t hurt in any way. sensing your distress, he hugs you. “I missed you, mama,” he says, snuggling into your neck.

“me too,” you smile and almost get lost in the moment, but then you hear a camera shutter. you look back and see your husband, holding a camera.

“oops, don’t mind me, hun.”

the dad of the other boy—who you didn’t notice was even there—stands up, livid, “can you take this a bit more seriously?! my son is injured!”

you’re about to reply yourself, but then satoru beats you to it. he stands right in front of the man and looks down at him, “surely, you’re not yelling at my wife, right?”

the man stumbles back into his chair, and satoru stares him down, making him sink even further into the chair.

the mother then speaks to you, “what your son did is unacceptable! look at how my baby is right now!”

looking at the other boy, you decide that the mother has every right to be mad. his nose is bleed profusely. you’re pretty sure it’s broken.

you look at your son and quirk an eyebrow, “s/n? what happened?”

“I was showing my friends the picture I got of you, and he said you were ugly! he can’t do that!”

your husband turns back and gasps, “he did what?!”

as if the dad himself is the one that is getting scolded, his eyes get teary.

meanwhile, you see the mother whispering to the boy, and he nods, ashamed. she looks back at you and says, “however, what your son did is not acceptable.”

“I know that the reaction was a bit much, but what your son did is also unacceptable,” you answer with your son nodding behind you.

“well—can you not be so close to my husband?” she snaps at satoru, whose cursed energy is increasing.

“you and your husband need to get taught a lesson if you raise a kid that’s so stupid he thinks my beautiful, divinie, and drop dead gorgeous wife is ugly,” he states, and the lady finds herself shrinking back beside her husband.

the little boy also scrambles into his parents’ embrace.

you place your hand on satoru’s forearm, and he immediately relaxes.

you smile and press a kiss to his cheek then pat your son’s back before instructing him softly, “you have to apologize for hurting him so much, though, s/n, okay?”

your son, ever the obedient sweetheart when it comes to you, looks at the boy, “I am sorry, but you should be sorry too!”

the other boy nods, crying, “I am sorry!”

your son nods, satisfied with the answer. your husband then picks s/n up and spins him around as he sings his praises, “I am so proud of you for defending mama like that! so so proud!”

the boy grins happily and hugs his dad. satoru then raises his finger, “but you gotta know that people are weak, so we can only do this to them all the time.”

your son nods eagerly, before wiggling to the ground. he runs to you, excited to tell you about his day. you grin and listen to him happily, ignoring the crying family on the other side.

your husband kisses the top of your head before turning to the principal with a smirk, “so, principal, is there anything you would like to say?”

“I am gonna piss myself.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

you dragged sukuna to the principal’s office, after you got a call of a major incident happening involving him. your husband insisted on dismissing it, but you just had a feeling that something is seriously wrong.

you both enter the office, eyes immediately falling on your son who is sitting unbothered on the chair. meanwhile, the principal is resting his elbows on the desk and striking a pose that could only be described as trouble.

when s/n sees you two, his eyes light up, and he runs to give you—and only you—a hug. sukuna scowls, “what about me?”

“you said you don’t like my hugs,” your son huffs, averting his eyes away. sukuna stares at him for a second, before picking him up by the scruff and placing him in his arms.

the boy looks at his dad, shocked, before snuggling into his embrace.

your husband leans his head just a bit on s/n’s head. you both then direct your attention to the waiting principal.

the principal taps his fingers together, but sukuna grumbles, “are you not gonna talk?”

you stifle a giggle—which sukuna notices and you notice the slight smirk now present on his face. the principal looks up at the three of you then speaks slowly, “well, you see…”

he looks up, “your son set my car on fire.”

a few beats pass.

then your husband barks out a laugh, one so hearty that it catches everyone but you off-guard.

the principal looks incredously at sukuna. your son tilts his head in confusion, before sukuna ruffles his hair, “how did you even do that? seriously, that’s my son for you!”

the boy thrives off his dad’s praise, and they get lost in their world, as your son details how he orchestrated everything.

the principal frowns, vexed. he clears his throat to speak up, “sir, I think you might have misheard. I am saying your son—”

“did I ask you to repeat yourself?”

the tone leaves no room for discussion, and it also sends shivers down the principal’s spine. your little boy snickers, and you side-eye him, effectively shutting him up.

the principal shakes his head slowly, then he looks at you for help.

truthfully, the man has every right to be both terrified and offended cause what the hell kinda is able to set a car on fire and act so nonchalant about it? it’s the kinda kid with a dad who backs him up for it.

however, the man assumes that voice of reason is you.

you want to help, but you’re just too tired. so, you smile, “I understand that what happened is harsh, sir,” he lights up, then you continue, “but surely, you can get a new one, right?”

the man pauses and looks at you with wide eyes, before spluttering, “wha—ma’am, you can’t be serious—"

“surely, you. can. get. a. new. one. right?” you glare.

the man nods frantically.

sukuna smirks pridefully, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. he leans his face near your ear and whispers, “my kinda woman.”

you smile and wrap your arm around his waist and squeeze his hip in return. you both exchange affectionate bedroom looks, forgetting about the frightened principal.

meanwhile, s/n looks at you guys, wrorried, and murmurs, “mom, you’re scarier than dad.”

despite what he says, s/n jumps into your arms and nuzzles against your cheek. your husband rolls his eyes with no real annoyance behind them.

with all the courage left in him, the principal smiles nervously and stutters, “you—you can leave now; I sincerely and deeply apologize for the hold up.”

nobody moves an inch.

“…please leave.”

NANAMI KENTO:

you, your husband, and your daughter are now seated in the principal’s office.

you are waiting for the other kid and her parents to come in as well. you’re tapping your feet, restlessly, but kento lays his hand on your knee and rubs it gently.

he nods at you, and you smile.

you know your daughter would never fight unprovoked. said daughter gets off her chair and climbs into your lap. she hugs you tightly, and you instantly start petting her hair.

she lets a small sigh, but then the principal enters the office with the other parents in toe. you see your husband’s eyes narrow, before he leans close to d/n and asks gently, “isn’t that the girl you said was bullying your friend?”

your daughter nods intensely and whispers back, “she was about to hit her today, and you told me not to let people bully others! that’s why I hit her.”

you pat her head, and she grins. kento hums then nods, “I get that, but couldn’t you get a teacher, sweetheart?”

“the teacher would’ve taken too long!” your daughter huffs, and she is right. but, there still is a lesson that she needs to understand.

the principal clears his throat and sits in his chair. “well mr. and mrs. nanami, your daughter has inflicted pain on a friend of hers—”

“bullies aren’t my friends!”

good saying, but this probably isn’t the time. you pat her back, and she instantly understands what you mean, so she—begrudgingly—calms down.

the principal continues, “as I was saying, she hit her classmate, and as you can see, it left a bruise. such violent acts are prohibited in this respected establishment.”

“shouldn’t bullying be prohibited as well?” you ask, and the man splutters.

“that doesn’t happen—”

“i can assure you that my wife is speaking the truth,” kento backs you up, “if you would like, we can check the cameras or what the teachers say regarding the environment you’re fostering.”

your daughter’s head starts spinning from the big words.

your husband places a hand on the top of her head before resuming, “while I acknowledge that my daughter shouldn’t have been physical in defending her friend, you ought to acknowledge that what the other girl did was also unacceptable.”

“and since you want to solve the root of the problem, shouldn’t you punish the one that did the bullying and warranted my daughter to act in defense?” you press on, and the principal gulps.

the father of the girl stands up, “my princess would do no such thing—”

“your record isn’t that pretty either, so I suggest you sit down,” you say with a smile, and it does the trick. the man immediately sticks to his wife—who has said nothing, and you assume it’s because she knew what her daughter did.

everybody keeps staring at each other for a while, with your daughter having a staring contest with the other girl.

“we will deal with our daughter accordingly,” kento speaks up as he stands up, straightening his suit, “but we expect that the girl is also held accountable for her shameful actions. thank you.”

you and d/n get up, and the three of you exit the office—like icons. kento holds your hand and d/n’s, and you giggle, “did you see how they looked?”

“should you be encouraging d/n about laughing at others?” your husband asks with a small quirk of his eyebrow. you nod confidently.

“if they’re rude then yes!”

he shakes his head helplessly with a smile. then your daughter looks up to kento as you are walking and says excitedly, “dad, I won!”

your husband looks down at her then smiles gently, nodding as he gives her a thumbs up. you raise your eyebrows and gasp lowly, “hypocrisy?”

“hmm, I don’t know.”

GETO SUGURU:

your daughters hang off their dad’s back as you guys head to the principal’s office. they squeal and giggle, and suguru has an ever-permanent smile.

he is holding onto your hand gently and says, “don’t worry; I doubt that the girls actually caused damage.”

“I know, but what I am curious about is why they would get into something,” you reply, pensive, “I know my daughters very well,” you smile, and the girls grin.

they start chanting your name, clapping, and saying I love you a million times.

you open the door slowly and are met with the principal standing in front of his desk and a girl standing on top of it. your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as you all enter.

your husband wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. he tilts his head, “so, what’s wrong?”

the man drums his fingers on the desk, leaning back, “your daughters have ganged up on my daughter.”

the both of you take a moment to examine the girl from afar. there seems nothing wrong with her: no bruise, no blood, no nothing.

you exchange looks, and you take the turn to speak up, “your daughter looks okay to me.”

the man huffs and crosses his arms, “she was hurt emotionally! severely too!”

the girl nods strongly and pouts. her dad gasps and hugs her. he then starts coddling her before asking her, “what did they say to you, sugarplum?”

“they said that I looked like a mole rat, daddy!” she replies, hand on her chest as she ‘falls’ to her knees, “and—and that’s only one of the many bad things they said!”

the man gasps yet again and starts comforting her.

you and your husband let out a snort, barely containing your laughter. the girls puff their chest in confidence. you and suguru look at each other with a poorly hidden grin, and you get caught.

the man fumes, “you’re laughing at my dear sweet princess sugar?!”

“no, we are laughing at the insult,” you reply.

“it’s quite creative,” suguru chuckles before turning to the girls who have long let go of him. he kneels down and asks them, “why did you guys do that?”

“she pulled my hair!” one of the twins spoke.

the other chimes in, “and she made fun of me.”

“oh.”

just from that word alone, you can tell which path your husband is gonna take in continuing this conversation. you have a half a mind to make him summon rainbow dragon to take you home.

you just wanted to know the reason, and suguru is probably never going to leave it at that. forget how ‘calm’ he usually is, his family should never be insulted.

“…see, this why you’re all a bunch of monkeys.”

“monkeys!!” the twins scream in unison.

this time both the principal and the daughter gasp incredulously. your secretly a diva of a husband carries your girls then holds your hand before exiting the office.

he walks in silence, and you quirk an eyebrow, “so, what are you going to do, mister ‘filthy monkeys’?”

“I have a feeling that you’re making fun of me, honey.”

“and that feeling would be right.”

the girls settle on his shoulders, freeing his arms, and he takes the chance to tickle you. you squeal, “suguru, stop! I am serious! not in public!”

“but you’re being mean, sweetheart,” he mock pouts, “such bad things you’re saying.”

your roll your eyes, and you guys continue on your merry way back home.

that event passed by like a breeze, but for some reason, the school has been appointed a new principal because the last one went missing.

I wonder why.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

“relax, ma,” your husband says as he rubs your shoulder in hopes of comforting you, “the kid is surely fine; he is our son after all.”

“I know, toji! but what if he did get hurt?” you fret then scowl, “I swear to god, if they harm a single hair on megumi’s head, I will make them wish they were never born!”

toji smirks lightly and ruffles your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before opening the door. he sees megumi sat, arms crossed and frowning.

involuntary, toji lets out a sigh of relief, and you waste no time in going to your son and checking on him, bombarding him with questions.

“did you get hurt?”

“no.”

“did he hurt you?”

“no.”

“are you okay?”

“yes.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, mom, I am fine,” megumi murmurs, cheeks heating up at your affection. toji chuckles at the display before looking at the principal.

the man purses his lips before sighing, “your son has beaten up jay.”

you and your husband blink silently. then your husband tilts his head, “who?”

the principal grits his teeth before standing up. he crosses his arms before huffing, “jay, the son of the town’s mayor! that boy is as important as his father, yet your son has so brazenly hurt him!”

you frown, “I don’t care who he is, and I am sure that my son won’t hit somebody for no reason!”

megumi nods, and you smile at him.

you pat his hair gently, and he reluctantly leans into the affection. meanwhile, toji has been listening silently before turning to megumi and asking, “who the hell is that?”

“the one with the sea slug hair,” he replies instantly. you let out a hum of recognition.

your husband stares blankly before he clicks his finger, “oh,” he then looks at megumi and ruffles his hair with a small grin, “I hated that kid’s dad—good job.”

megumi lets out a small smile before giving his dad a thumbs up. you roll your eyes with no real annoyance behind them and side-eye toji.

toji chuckles then looks at the fuming principal. the man, now red in the face, yells, “mr fushiguro, that is unacceptable behavior from both you and your son!”

“…okay?”

you shake your head and usher megumi out of the room. you and toji share a look, before you close the door. the moment it clicks, your husband turns to the principal with a blank face.

he takes a few steps, stopping right in front of the man. toji grabs the principal’s shoulder then speaks lowly, “you won’t speak of this, ‘kay?”

he nods frantically, face contorting as he tries to compose himself. toji smirks and heads to the door with a small wave, “see ya never, teach.”

your husband finds you and megumi in the school’s garden.

he sees megumi and yuuji—his friend—playing together, while you relax on the bench. for some reason, toji feels a wave of warmth flood his chest as when he sees you and megumi smiling.

yuuji yells something to you that makes you laugh heartily. toji feels himself relax and smile just slightly. it’s moments like these he feels ever so grateful to have you in his life.

and he swears to forever protect you and megumi. he has acknowledged a long time ago that his only wish is to be by your side.

that’s why, in no time, he is behind you, effectively blocking the sun. you look up from where you’re sat to your husband.

“hey pretty,” he hums.

you chuckle as he rests his elbows on the bench, “slain?”

he grins, “slain.”

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