#hope they make u sob wail cry a little bit too sorry<3

[sodrippy]

if its my fate to survive everything only to die by your hands, then i should 

gu dong mae & lee yang hwa, mr sunshine

for @weiwuxianisms, happy birthday becherished<3

[image ID eight gifs from ‘mr. sunshine’ showing gu dong mae and kudo hina, with an alternating palette of blues and pinks. the caption has a teal to red gradient. it reads ‘if its my fate to survive everything only to die by your hands, then i should’ in a blockquote, followed by a bolded subtitle which reads ‘gu dong mae & lee yang hwa, mr sunshine’. below this is plain black text dedicating the gifset to weiwuxianisms.

the first gif is a close up of gu dong mae as he holds a hurt, bleeding kudo hina in his arms. he raises a soot-covered hand to rest gently on the side of her face. the gif features both blue and red. the second gif is a saturated red-toned wideshot of kudo hina and gu dong mae. kudo hina is holding out her hand, palm up, as gu dong mae secures a bandage around it. the third gif is a wideshot awash with pink. gu dong mae hugs kudo hina on the beach. she is crying, and he slowly pats her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. the fourth gif has a deep blue palette, and shows gu dong mae carrying kudo hina in a piggyback as he walks down the street at night. the fifth gif is a teal-toned midshot of gu dong mae and kudo hina standing close together in the street while it snows. gu dong mae raises his hands in a ‘surrender’ gesture while kudo hina looks smug. the sixth gif has a pink wash on the background. gu dong mae and kudo hina sit at separate tables in a bar, facing in opposite directions but aware of each other. in the background, kudo hina takes a shot of alcohol. in the foreground, gu dong mae turns slightly towards her. the seventh gif has a soft pink palette. kudo hina stands next to a table where gu dong mae is seated. she holds a glass, laughing, then speaks to him. as she talks, he pours himself a glass of alcohol and sets the bottle back on the tray. the eighth gif is a close up of kudo hina lying in gu dong mae’s arms. it is the match shot of the first gif, similarly featuring both teal and red. kudo hina has a bloodied temple, gazing up at gu dong mae with bloodshot eyes. his blood-covered hand is softly caressing her cheek. / end ID.]

[clouds-rambles]

hello!~ o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

can i request headcanons for kaeya, diluc, childe, and venti on what they would while their s/o dies in their arms? (if thats okay with u <3)

thank u sm! :))

BESTIE THE PAIN I FEEL RN!!! Omw to make hurt some of my faves hope you enjoy <3

Also guys I’ve been here for a day how are there almost 50 of you following?!

Pairings; (Separate) Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Venti x reader

Warning(s); hurt, big hurty, reader death, vague wound description, cursing, talk about dead bodies

Keep reading under the cut!

Kaeya

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were meant to live forever with him. You were supposed to grow old with him and become a parent to your future children. You were-

“Kaeya” you choke out smiling at your partner above you. The man shakes his head mentally pleading with you to not die “Kaeya I will always be on the wind” you tell him, a shaky, bloody hand raised to his cheek to weekly caress it

“Please” he pleads “Please don’t die on me [name]” you smile at him feeling the breaths in your lungs disappear

“I’m sorry Kae--ya” you apologise before passing away in his arms

He doesn’t move for a long time. He doesn’t feel for a long time. The one person he could share his secrets and his love to gone. Away with the wind

Kaeya doesn’t remember the last time he cried, but he’ll remember this one. 

Your beaten, bruised, broken, dead, and beautiful body slumped in his arms as his tears fall from his face as he feels an absence in his heart

How is he supposed to live on if this is the pain he feels right now?

Jean eventually stumbles upon Kaeya out in the wilds, still clutched to your now cold and even more lifeless body

Jean manages to get the man up with your body held close to his chest

“Jean, I can’t, I can’t let them go” he pleads as if he’s waiting for you to simply wake up in his arms

“Kaeya...” Jean says in a concerned tone having never seen him in such a state, even he seemed to quickly recover from his fathers death

Eventually Jean coaxed Kaeya to go back to the city and leave your body in the hands of the sisters. Where they dressed you up and prepared a funeral service for you

The funeral was larger than Kaeya was expecting, you had affected a many more people than he realised from your small jobs around the city. Kaeya can’t help but be awed at how many people you’ve helped while you were in Mond

The usual chatter of Mondstat is quiet and in a time of grieving for about a week or so, many people have wonderful memories of you and Kaeya seems to be collecting them all, that and bunches of flowers. Many of which find themselves laying on your tombstone as Kaeya tells you about his day

A month passes and it seems like everything's back to normal, Kaeya is back to his outgoing self. He spends more nights at the tavern, but even Diluc doesn’t have the heart to cut him off. 

Jean seems to pick up on the smallest things, goddamnit Jean, the extra nights at the tavern, the eyebags, the weeping she can hear from his room. In it’s own right is heart-breaking, the acting Grandmaster cannot imagine what it’s like to be actually experiencing that kind of pain

-

Diluc

No, not like this

You had both decided that night to join each other in your little vigilante escapade. Which was fine you had both done this before, but tonight resulted in something very different

Here you are, head on Dilucs lap. This could be considered romantic, and often was, were it not for the fact you felt like you choked up a mixture of your lung and your bloody supply

“Diluc” you speak with a much worse for wear voice, the red-head looks into your eyes, eyes already gaining moisture. A similar scene has befallen him before, a Diluc knows how this ends

“Please” he pleads his voice wavering “Please don’t leave me” he chokes back a sob and tears fall off his face the salt hitting your own

“I love you so much” you start, Diluc shakes his head. Must you hurt him so with last words? “Don’t blame yourse-” another set of hacking befalls you as you lose more blood

“Please” he pleads again as the grip you had on his arm goes slack indicating your loss of life

Diluc screams, he cries and he hugs you close. He screams into the air of Mondstat until his voice hurts and he cries until all he’s doing is dry sobbing and he holds you close until you’re broken body is pried from his own broken mind

A wondering Jean heard his screams into the night sky and hereby answered them. She never expected to see Diluc, still in his vigilante getup, crying over your body

She calls for more guards who take your body from his and Jean helps Diluc get back to the estate. At one point during the walk Jean can feel DIluc shaking and hyperventilating. So they stand for a moment, Jean holds and comforts the wine-master before they move again

Jean has never seen such emotion from Diluc before, and she wholeheartedly hopes she’ll never have to see it again. Seeing Diluc so raw and rife with emotion is enough to make anyone cry. And Jean nearly did on more than one occasion.

Your funeral is small, much to Dilucs request and really only were attended by the estate and Jean. Diluc didn’t want to cry again in such a large audience

Though the maids often hear pained sobs coming from Dilucs room as he contemplates and often blames himself for what had transpired. Maids daren’t speak up about what they hear though, Diluc’s pain is more than understandable

Diluc throws himself into work opting to man the bar most days of the week and fighting for the city as often as he can. People around him are more than concerned

Diluc’s stoic nature seems to be intensified now, not wanting to let another person in and die in his arms. He’s seen enough death for his life and wishes not to lose more loved ones

Everything seems to have moved back to what life was before you arrived in your life, depressive, monotonous, boring, mundane for the most part and sad. So very sad

He wishes for a day where his heart isn’t strife with grief, but he doubts that day will not be coming anytime soon

-

Childe

You grin up at him, feeling close to naught pain coming from the gaping wound thanks to the excess of adrenaline that’s pumping through your body

“Childe” you say the smile still on your lips in an attempt at not making the situation as dark and horrific as it is. Childe speaks your name in return

“I love you” you tell him mustering the strength to cup the mans cheek, who immediately nuzzles into it. The situation almost doesn’t feel real to him. He’s going to be shaken awake by a very unwounded you in just a moment and inform him he’s having a nightmare

But that moment doesn’t come. Nor do any words come from you. Your slow rhythms of your heart remind you that he’s still got time, but you’ve expended all your energy. Your smile you’re wearing seems to be dropping

“I love you [name], I love you so much, you are everything I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you” he rambles bringing your body to his chest

“Live for--- me” you sputter out into his chest, a dying wish that Childe isn’t too sure he can uphold. Is it really living if he’s an empty vessel.

You go limp in his arms and he can no longer sense your heartbeat. Death had finally laid claim to you

Childe sits with you for hours, you’d expect him to be wailing like a banshee if you knew his personality but that’s rather not the case. Sobbing quietly is a better word for what happens. Most of his sobs and hacks for air are hidden in your hair. He pulled your body to his shoulder just to weep

Eventually he finds himself mustering the courage to walk back to Liyue Harbour. You firmly held in his arms. He knows that if he walks too plainly the Millelith would pry and ask too many questions for his fragile heart to answer

Childe ends up barging into the wangsheng funeral parlour, which surprises Zhongli a little. He’s about to go on a rant to Childe about how he must book an appointment, until he sees your lifeless body in his arms

The funeral is arranged quickly and neatly. There aren’t many people who attend, Childe is okay with that, he secretly wants to see his family and cry on their shoulder a bit

Instead he opts for a letter, which arrives to the family tear stained and lacking the usual penmanship ‘I’m sorry, you won’t be able to see [name] after all. They passed away not too long ago...’ he basically writes your arbitrary in the letter. And his whole heart is in every word he writes

Determined not to let anybody in Childe finds himself in a pattern, when he’s not throwing himself into battles he’s doing paper work or yelling at his subordinates and when he’s not doing that he’s doing his weekly fight with the traveller. Childe gets next to no sleep and instead opts to reading and rereading every letter and note you’ve ever given him

If Childe passes out at his desk nobody bothers him either in fear of getting yelled at by the harbinger or an understanding of losing a loved one

They never said being a harbinger was fulfilling work. Yet, he let himself believe that he could be fulfilled and content with a lover. What a shameful lie

-

Venti

He’s awfully quiet. He hasn’t experienced death in so long. Especially one he thought would be forever.

He couldn’t even get to you to hear your last words. Ironic isn’t it? He hadn’t heard that guys last words either. And yet this pains him so much more

Sure mortal lives are fleeting but he was certain he had more time with you. More time to see you grow old, more time to put off your inevitable mortality. More time to-

He’s hyperventilating, Venti’s body shakes as he finds nothing to ground himself not even the person he loves so dear is there for him. He feels like he could explode, breaths caught in his throat refusing to surface and come up for air. Despite being an immortal archon, the breaths that refuse to surface don’t fail to make him feel like he’s choking

A bard he is. And one that knows every song from the past, present and future. Suddenly the pained songs from the future make sense to him. He knew what was written. A love lost

Suddenly he finds himself crying and hunched over your deceased form making promises to the wind that he’ll never forget you. Much like he’ll ever forget that bard

He isn’t sure how long has passed but he’s still sobbing over your form, there aren’t many tears left for him to cry but he can’t find himself stopping. He feels like they’ll never stop. 

Maybe he could lay beside you and sleep for another thousand years. But that would only delay the inevitable. The inevitable sinking feeling.

Maybe it was his fault for letting himself fall in love with a mortal, but in the moment he could truly see you living life with him. He could see a marriage, children. He wanted you to have it all.

Damn celestia and all things above for not letting you ascend, at least when he inevitably ascends you’ll be there to greet him. Curse that and your mortality

Jean eventually stumbles upon him during a recon mission to find him covering your body in various flowers, a crown made of cecelias don your head. He’s quiet, but he’s saying goodbye. Who would blame him? Jean doesn’t interrupt him and only wishes you a farewell

News of your death spread around town like wildfire, your grave donned with more flowers than Venti can count. He almost feels bad about not doing a public service after seeing how many people are truly in mourning

Diluc doesn’t push Venti to pay his growing tab no matter how much he should. And Diluc doesn’t say no to Venti singing his happy tunes in the tavern

It feels like his life has retuned to normal. Though Jean can’t help but look out the library window to see Venti sat atop his statue with an expression, as Jean can only guess, of sadness.

Venti finds himself going back to an old schedule again but he can’t miss the nagging feeling of somethings missing. The something being you

Sometimes he half expects you to hug him from behind, or join him up at the statue, or kiss him on his nose, or-

Venti can’t quite comprehend how he feels, he just knows there’s a hole in his heart where you belonged. And he doesn’t want to let anyone find their way into there

He doesn’t want to lose again

It’s happened too much

[bowandcurtsey]

Strong angst to fluff with BC boys. She dresses up for them thinking they’d like it (for the date) but it’s a bit revealing. N they call her a slut :(, when she cries they say she’s being dramatic and during the date she’s mopey and quiet. And finally they argue a bit and the boys say their jus jealous and overprotective. Ik it sounds like I’m saying their all in one relationship but I mean separately like how you do the others. Hope it’s not to much to ask for thank u ☺️

Hi Anony!! I hope you did read my previous request for Angst to Fluff for Rill, William and Fue! It’s here ! Both your requests were in my inbox after I came back from my holiday so I decided to divide it into 3 captains each, thinking about which captain fit which scenario most!

I hope that’s ok!! If you’d like a specific character for a specific scenario, do lemme know! Also, I think it’s hard to do strong angst in short scenario fics 🥲 if it’s not angsty enough to your liking, do request again for solo character! 🥰 I can do longer fics for solo characters

Yami | Nozel | Jack

Yami Sukehiro

The black bulls captain was a little late to your date and you were already waiting in the bar.

When he came in, he saw that men were oogling at your revealing outfit, even the bartender that you were sitting right in front of, was trying to hit on you.

“What the fuck are you wearing babe?” He snarled.

“Something nice for our date?” His use of vulgarity caught you off guard. “Why ar-”

“Do you have to dress like a slut?” He blurted out, “do you like that men are looking at you?”

You were so upset that tears were threatening to spill at the corner of your eyes, “You’re late and the first thing you do is criticise my outfit?”

“It’s two different matters, don’t start a drama here.” He said flatly.

You felt your heart wince at his nonchalant attitude. “Fine then let’s just end the date then”

You walked out of the bar, the tears that you were holding back finally falling from your face.

Yami took a deep drag from his cigg and went after you. He caught you just outside the bar and caged you in his strong arms.

You knew it was futile to struggle with you man so you just stood there crying.

“I’m sorry baby.” He said in his low gentle voice, one that he only used with you, “I shouldn’t have used the word ‘slut’. I was pissed just now”

“You’re the one that’s late!” You said between sobs, “what are you pissed about? I took so long to dress up for you!” You wailed even harder now.

“My bad princess. I’m sorry. I got jealous when I came in seeing all those pigs looking at you. And that filty bartender, I might dig his eyes out later. Tsk.” His grip on you tightened thinking about what he witnessed just now.

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head when you didn’t reply. “Let’s go somewhere else alright?” He took off his robe and draped it over you. “I’ll admire this outfit when we get home~”

Nozel Silva

Nozel picked you up for your date and brought you to a nice restaurant. Upon reaching, you took off your coat and revealed a sexy dress. The silver eagles captain was flabbergasted, and a hint of blush tinted his cheeks. You looked amazing.

However, throughout the night, many men were looking at you. Even the waiters were coming over to your table a tad bit too frequently. Nozel’s mood plummeted and traces of irritation now took over his features.

“What’s wrong dear?” You asked, seeing his furrowed eyebrows and how he got quiet all of a sudden.

“You’re dressed quite like a slut today.” He commented, not even looking up at you.

You were dumbfounded at his words, not knowing how to respond.

You both continued eating in silence, but his words kept replaying in your mind. Tears silently rolled down your cheeks and you started sniffing.

“Don’t be dramatic y/n,” the silver haired man said flatly.

“I took a long time to dress up and make up just for you today,” it was your turn to snap at him, “it’s okay if you don’t appreciate it. I’m done with my dinner.”

You sat in silence throughout the rest of the dinner. When you were both outside the restaurant, Nozel summoned his mercury eagle and gave you his hand to help you get up.

“It’s okay. I can head home myself.” You turned and left.

He caught up with you easily. “I’m... sorry.”

But you didn’t respond nor look at him.

“I was jealous when all the men were looking at you” he blurted out quietly. It wasn’t common that Mr Royal Nozel would admit he was jealous, so you just looked at him in surprise.

He tried coughing his blush away from his cheeks, “guess I felt a little overprotective, I do apologise for my harsh words dear”

He held your hands gently and faced you, “you do look beautiful tonight, but I don’t want other men to look at what’s mine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s go home Mr Jealous.”

Jack the Ripper

There was a party at the royal palace. You and Jack attended together as a couple.

Jack was usually okay with whatever you were wearing, but today many men were taking glances at you.

At one point he heard someone gossiping, “wow look at the lady over there? She’s with Captain Jack? She’s hot, look at her booty.”

Jack almost sliced them in half. He looked at you. You seemed oblivious to all the ogling.

“Why are you dressed like a slut today?” His words sliced through you like his blades, you felt your heart in half.

Tears clouded your eyes, “do you have any idea how much effort i put into this outfit today?”

“Don’t be a drama queen babe~” this man really couldn’t read the situation.

“You’re the rude king Jack.” You said flatly and walked off.

After awhile, he found you outside.

“Hey,” he scratched his head, thinking of what to say, “I’m sorry babe”

“Ok.” You took a sip of champagne, not even looking at him

He bent over to look at your face. “I’m sorry babe, you look beautiful tonight. And those men kept looking at you.”

“So?” You side eyed him.

“I was being a rude fuck and I was jealous and over protective” he gave you his puppy eyes.

You playfully smacked him, “you’re the drama king babe” you rolled your eyes and smiled.

“We make a great pair, my queen” he pressed a chaste kiss to your temples.

-end-

I really couldn’t imagine any of them calling their s/o a slut 🥺 but I hope you guys liked this one! I love fluff, makes my heart go UwU all the time 💓

[shhhhyoursister]

hey could u maybe do #3. “please don’t cry” for davenzi? I seriously love you for writing so much 💜

okay so lmao i just spent like 45 mins writing a parent!davenzi thing for this and i left the app to look for a baby name and just came back and that fic is gone so i guess i’ll start again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i hope you like the name i chose i didn’t know what to do so i went with something cute and vaguely italian!!!!!! also i hope it’s okay that i took it in this direction i was feeling inspired!!!!!

David loved being a father. He had technically only been one for a month (a months and 11 days, to be exact), but he could already tell that it was going to be his biggest accomplishment. Isabella was perfect, somehow managing to look as if David and Matteo had conceived a child together; hair that they could tell was going to grow in dark blonde and a little curly, a button nose that David had actually cried over multiple times, and dark brown eyes that were so beautiful that David could’ve spent hours staring into them (and he did).

It made more sense for Matteo to stay at home with her, and while David loved his job, directing and filming and editing was way less entertaining when he had a sweet, soft, cuddly baby at home, and a husband who he knew was exhausted because of her. The only thing that got David through the work day were the multiple pictures and texts that Matteo would send, of her or about her. He would get updates on her eating and health (David didn’t think he needed to know everytime Matteo changed her diaper and the contents of it, but he appreciated being kept in the loop), anytime she did anything particularly cute (he had gotten a text once that said she smiled!!!!!! i think it was just gas but still!!!! and he had immediately made the attached picture the new background on his phone).

He also got the not so nice updates. One night, he was staying late to finish editing something so he could have the whole weekend just for himself, his husband, and his daughter, when his cell rang. When he saw it was Matteo he panicked, and fumbled with the phone, because Matteo almost never called him at work.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Is Bella okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine,” Matteo said, and David sighed with relief but he could hear the exhaustion and defeat and tears in Matteo’s voice as he continued, “I just can’t get her to fucking sleep.”

“You’ve fed her, and changed her, right? Have you tried sitting in that chair and singing? What about one of the books?” David ran through all of the ways they had managed to get her to sleep before in his mind, trying to think of a helpful suggestion for his obviously overwhelmed husband.

“Yeah, obviously, I fucking know what I’m doing David, I’m the one who spends every night with her.” Matteo snapped, and David snapped his mouth shut.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. How do you want me to help, baby?” David could tell that Matteo wasn’t actually angry, and that responding angrily himself would only make things worse. He wanted to help, but also knew he had at least another hour before he could get home.

“Fuck, sorry, don’t apologize. I’m sorry I yelled. It’s been a long day,” Matteo said, and David could hear the beginnings of what he thought was going to be Matteo crying, before he heard a sharper wail in the background, and an exasperated sigh from his husband, before he heard, “oh my god, I can’t even fucking sit down for a second.”

David tried to calm Matteo down a little as he heard him walk down the hall to Bella’s room, and he heard the door creak open the tiniest bit before Matteo was cooing, “No, piccola mia, please don’t cry.”

He heard Matteo grunt as he lifted the sobbing baby to his shoulder, and David could hear the cries get louder as the her mouth got closer to the phone. He listened to Matteo speak to her in a gentle voice, switching between German and Italian like he tended to do (David could tell that he didn’t even notice he was doing it), and after what felt like five minutes of David sitting silently on the phone, the crying stopped.

“Oh, thank god, she fell asleep again.” Matteo said, and David could hear just how relieved he was about that.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll take over when I’m home, but you know they said to sleep when she’s sleeping.” That was a piece of advice he knew Matteo took to heart, and his nap schedule was almost as organized and planned out as the baby’s.

“I still have to clean up from dinner, and she spit up on the couch so I have to deal with that too, and there’s still laundry to fold,” David heard Matteo collapse onto a couch before laughing a little humorlessly and saying, “being a housewife is much less glamorous than I was expecting.”

“I’ll be sure to get you some flowers and a bottle of champagne on my way home, I can’t have you leaving because of a lack of glamour.” David grinned against the phone, wishing he could be there to see the exhausted chuckle that Matteo let out.

“Yeah, flowers and champagne would make up for the puke and the shit and the drool. None of that is particularly glamorous.” Matteo said, sounding a little happier than he had at the beginning of the call.

“I’ll be sure to do that, but if you don’t need me I’m going to go, okay?“

“I always need you.”

David felt his cheeks blush, embarrassed that he was still so affected by the things his husband said often, and he laughed a little before saying, “Me too, babe. But I’ll be home in an hour, an hour and a half tops, okay?”

They hung up after exchanging their usual I love you’s, and David started working again. He stopped for a second to respond to the text he got about 10 minutes later that just said she woke up again, and he finished editing as fast as he could so he could get home, kiss Matteo, and send him off to bed. He was dead tired but looking forward to being able to hold Isabella again, missing her in a way that made him twitch.

The house was warm when he got inside, and he shrugged his coat off and toed off his shoes as he called down the hall, “Matteo?”

He started walking in, surprised when he didn’t hear crying or other general baby noises, and he tilted his head when the kitchen was empty. He wandered more, getting a little nervous, but when he reached the living room and looked at the sight on the couch, he felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

Matteo was splayed out shirtless on his back, because they knew how important skin-to-skin contact was for babies, with Bella lying in the middle of his chest, her tiny eyes open and blinking around the room. Matteo was knocked out, snoring a little with how heavy he was suddenly sleeping, and David grinned before walking in, and scooped the baby off of him.

“Hey, trouble maker,” he said, trailing a finger down her tiny cheek before leaning in to kiss her on the forehead, “you’ve been driving him crazy today, haven’t you?”

He cooed at her for a few minutes, kissing her cheeks and letting her tiny hands wrap around his fingers, and he pulled her in tight and breathed in the new-baby smell before he heard, “Oh, hey, when did you get here?”

David looked down and saw Matteo blinking up at him, rubbing a hand across his eyes, his other hand coming up to tug on the hem of David’s shirt. David switched Bella onto his shoulder, and cradled the back of her head as he leaned down to kiss Matteo on the forehead.

“A few minutes ago, now get up, you’re going to bed.”

“Wait, wait, I haven’t finished cleaning yet,” Matteo tried to protest as he got up, but in the same breath he was collapsing against David’s unoccupied shoulder, and yawning loud into his neck. He lifted a hand and placed it over David’s on the baby’s back.

“Matteo, you’re about two seconds away from passing out,” David said, wrapping his other arm around his husband’s waist, “let me finish up, I’ll come to bed when I’m done.”

Matteo pulled back and smiled at him, and leaned in to kiss him and poured so much love and gratitude and relief into it that David could feel it, before he looked down at the baby against David’s shoulder.

“I don’t get it,” he said, moving Bella’s hair back into place and stroking her cheek like David had.

“Don’t get what?” David whispered back, noticing that the baby’s eyes were sliding shut a little bit, and that she didn’t seem to be fighting it, and he held a finger up to his lips to warn Matteo to be quiet as she started breathing deeper, and more evenly as she fell back asleep.

“I’ve felt like ripping my hair out and jumping out the window all day,” Matteo whispered back, shaking his head, “but I still love her so fucking much.”

David smiled, looking down again at the baby sleeping baby in his arms, and the man smiling softly in his arms, and he was filled with so much that he felt like he was going to explode.

“I’m pretty sure there’s some brain chemical that stops people from throwing their babies when they don’t stop crying,” David said, and he grinned when Matteo snorted and rolled his eyes, “evolution is a beautiful thing.”

Matteo took a step back and shoved him gently, before walking back and bumping his head into David’s shoulder before kissing him there, and then his cheek, and then he moved so he could cover Isabella’s face in kisses.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I go sleep?” Matteo said, looking dead on his feet, and David gently shoved him toward their bedroom as he looked around the house, making a mental checklist of things he needed to do to make Matteo’s night end faster.

“Yeah, it’s probably better that you do. Can’t have you passing out when you’re the only one home with her, she’ll get into the booze!”

Matteo laughed from where he was leaning against the doorframe to their bedroom, smiling wider than David had seen in a few days, and he looked back up with a smile to say, “Yeah, and the weed, too.”

They both laughed at the horror of their statements before Matteo yawned, walked over to give them each one more kiss, and then went off to bed. David looked down at the sleeping baby on his shoulder and walked to her room as quietly as he could, placing her in her bed, and sighing when she didn’t start crying again.

David cleaned as thoroughly but as quickly as he could and managed to finish pretty quick, and he was almost falling asleep as he changed out of his clothes from the day, and he sighed when he slid into bed behind Matteo, and curled up against his bare back and wrapped his arms around his waist. He let a hand rest on Matteo’s stomach so he could feel the deep, steady breaths, and after a few minutes David was knocked out too.

They were both woken up a couple of hours later by another wail, and they looked at each other for a second before David realized that there was no way he could make Matteo get up and do it, so he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and got up with a “I’ve got it babe, go back to sleep.”

[onthepyre]

and it hurts (part 4)

part 1 part 2 part 3

shes finally done...... now to start another, longer fic

Alana stands awkwardly next to the door, several feet away from Zoe, who sits with her legs stretched in front of her on the couch.  It feels like the opposite of what she was expecting.  She thought Zoe would be weird and she’d have to ease her into the neat, tense, and clearly meticulously cleaned house, but Zoe seems to be at home while Alana can’t think straight.  

She blinks at the ground for a moment, trying to take a full breath, before she looks back up at Zoe.  “Do you, uh, want something to eat?”

“Sure!” Zoe says, and she nearly jumps off the sofa, following on Alana’s heels to the kitchen.  “What are your parents up to?” she asks, leaning against the door frame.

Alana pauses in her search for something easy to cook.  “They try to avoid me when I have friends over.  Since I’m the one who has a guest, it’s my responsibility to be hospitable and also teenagers stress them out.”

“Did they decide it’s your responsibility or did you just get lucky with a mom who occasionally agrees with you?”  Zoe’s envy is audible, but so is her sarcastic grin.

“I got lucky.”  Alana smiles, suddenly glad for her parents and their good nature and a little bit worried about the Murphys.  She spins around, facing Zoe.  “We have pizza rolls, ramen noodles, and cereal.  Everything else requires real cooking.”

“Oh my god, my parents have never let us have pizza rolls.”  Alana nods and pulls them out of the fridge, but turns back to Zoe.  

“Wait, you’ve never had pizza rolls?”

Zoe shakes her head.  “They say they’re ‘too unhealthy.’”  She rolls her eyes.

“This is going to be quite the night.”  Alana dumps the frozen pizza rolls onto a plate and sticks them in the microwave.  “Do you want anything else?”

Zoe ventures into the kitchen, glancing at the mugs hung along the wall.  “Do you have any hot chocolate?”

Alana grins.  “In the cabinet by the fridge.”  

In just a few minutes, they’re sitting across from each other at the kitchen table.  Zoe takes a bite of a pizza roll and her eyes widen.  

“It’s so hot!”  

Alana tries to hide a laugh.  “I probably should have warned you.”  

Zoe nods, but takes another bite anyways, clearly burning her mouth.  “Why must everything I love hurt me?” she wails.  Alana doesn’t even try to pretend she isn’t laughing.  Zoe glares up at her, smirking.  “Are you mocking my plight?”

“Yes.”

Zoe places a hand to her chest.  “I shall die.  Then you may no longer mock, for you will be… sad or whatever.”

Alana laughs again.  “I’ll be very ‘sad or whatever.’  You’d better not die.”

Zoe wrinkles her nose and eats another pizza roll whole.  “You aren’t my boss.” 

Alana sighs.  “Please?”

They stare at each other for a moment, silently debating the matter.  Zoe is the first to break.

“Fine.  I guess I won’t die.”  She rolls her eyes, but smiles.

“Good.”

They finish their meal in a comfortable near-silence, occasionally pausing to crack jokes, mostly at Zoe’s expense.  Alana does her best to avoid staring, keeping her eyes focused on her plate.  They force themselves through an hour or so of awkward smiles and almost-forced laughs before Alana invites Zoe into her bedroom.  They tumble onto the floor, giggling like little kids, both secretly trying to come up with a reason to inch closer to the other.

“Okay,” Zoe says finally, once she’s calmed down a bit, “Okay.  Do you want to play a game or something?”

Still not completely composed, Alana nods.  “Yeah, what… what do you have in mind?”

Zoe grins wickedly, like she’s just come up with a dastardly plan.  Something catches fire in Alana’s stomach.  

“Truth or Dare,” she states.  Her smirk widens, and Alana groans.

“What are we, thirteen?”  She smiles in spite of herself.  

“Yes,” Zoe says.  “C’mon, ‘Lana, it’s a classic!”  

Alana glares, mentally battling the girl sitting in front of her, but she relents.  “Fine.  Fine, you fool.”  Again, she smiles, making no effort to hide it from the celebrating Zoe.

“Alright,” she says finally.  “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Alana says without consideration.

“Okay…” Zoe pauses in thought.  “What’s your biggest fear?”

“Whales.”

“...Whales?”

“They’re massive, Zoe.  You could swim through their veins.  They’re so huge, I can’t even imagine it.”  Alana waves her hands frantically, trying to convey the scale of the whales she’s talking about.  Zoe stares on in wonder, trying to figure out how Alana knows this.

“It’s your turn,” she says once she thinks Alana has finished.

“Alright, truth or dare?”  Alana’s face bears the expression of a mother who has just been proudly presented with a necklace made of the macaroni she planned to use for dinner.

“Dare.”  Zoe embodies the roll of the mischievous toddler well.

Alana ponders for a moment.  “I dare you to text the most recent person in your contacts and ask if they’ve seen your copy of Justin Beiber’s autobiography, because you lost it.”

Zoe sighs, shakes her head, and pulls out her phone.  “Oh, my god.”  She cringes.  “It’s Connor.  He texted me, like, five minutes ago,” she tells Alana.  She does not tell Alana that the text reads, “did u kiss her yet.”  She sends a discrete no in response, and then tacks on Alana’s question.  Immediately, Connor responds with several question marks, and then adds, “ur so fuckin weird zo.”  

“He called me weird.  Truth or Dare?”  Zoe tucks her phone back into her pocket, hoping Alana won’t ask to see the response.  She doesn’t.

“Truth,” Alana says again.  “Make it an interesting one, though.”

“Who’s your crush?  I know you have one.”

For a second, Alana considers telling her.  It’s practically the perfect moment, but she doesn’t.  

“Dare.”

“Alright,” Zoe says, barely containing her smirk.  “Call them and ask to speak to their mom.”

And then she’s cornered.  She takes the option she sees as easier, hands shaking as she unlocks her phone.  Alana can barely breathe as she scrolls to Zoe’s contact.  She hits the call button and raises the phone to her ear, staring at the floor.

Zoe’s phone buzzes.  She cocks her head, confused, and pulls it out again.  Alana’s name is displayed on the screen in big letters.  Zoe looks up at her, wide-eyed, as it finally clicks.

“Hi,” she says into the phone.

“Hi.”  Alana’s voice is trembling.  “Is your mom there?”

“No, sorry.”  Zoe is uncharacteristically quiet.  “I’m not at home.”

“Oh.  Sorry to bother you.”  Alana hangs up, but doesn’t lift her gaze from the carpet.  

“‘Lana, I…” Zoe trails off, unable to form a sentence that doesn’t consist only of swearing.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Alana sniffles.  She tries to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked-off sob.  

“Wait, Alana, I didn’t mean it like that.”  Zoe crawls closer to her and places her hand on Alana’s jaw, forcing her to look up.  A few tears roll down her cheeks, and she wipes frantically at them.  Zoe’s mouth falls open as she tries to come up with something to say that could make it better.  She can’t.

She kisses her as an apology.

Alana’s lips taste of tears, but Zoe doesn’t mind.  She pulls her closer by her waist, knocking Alana almost into her lap.  She reciprocates, propping herself up with a hand on Zoe’s shoulder and the other on her knee.  She pulls back, still crying a little.

“So what-” her voice cracks “-what did you mean?”

Zoe wipes the tears from her cheeks.  “I didn’t realize it was me.  I didn’t mean to force you to say it like that.  I can’t say I’m not glad you said it, though.”

Alana giggles through the last few sobs.  “I can’t, either.”

She kisses Zoe this time.  And for the first time in ages, nothing hurts.

[jooheonies]

Chalkboards And Kisses |2|

Character(s): Reader X Shownu

Genre: fluff

Warning(s): uhh theres side!kihyuk if thats a warning, and this is also just a nonsense drabble like there’s absolutely no plot i wrote it at 3 am so i barely remember what happened

Length: 2.5k

Summary: In which you break a few bones and Hyunwoo is there to take care of you.

You love your job.

You really do.

It’s great, working with kids, watching them grow from bumbling legs that can’t recite the alphabet to bumbling legs that can spell their names with no help.

It’s great.

What makes it a little less great is when a boy by the name of Lee Jooheon gets a little to excitable, a little too enthusiastic on the monkey bars. He swings his legs back and forth a bit, shifting his weight to swing himself up. Unfortunately, his chubby fingers slip on the sweaty metal and send him flying three feet into the air, crashing straight into your body.

Lee Jooheon ends up sitting on your torso, perfectly unscathed.

You, on the other hand, wind up with a sprained ankle and four broken fingers.

/

“I’m sorry!” Jooheon cries, his lower lip wobbling, little tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t mean for that to happen!”

You smile at him, a little resigned and tired. “It’s alright, sweetie. Maybe we should exercise our safety rules next time, huh?” Your legs rest on the bench in the nurse’s office as she binds your fingers together, wrapping bandages over the twitching digits.

He bounces a little on his toes and pouts, wringing his hands. “My mom said that if you make people hurt, it’ll come back to get you. Does this mean I’m going to get hurt, too?”

You wince a bit as the nurse wraps a bandage over your ankle, folding a pack of ice into the cloth. “No, Jooheon. It was an accident and luckily nothing too bad happ–”

You’re interrupted by three sets of flailing limbs bursting through the nurse's door, muffled grunts of pain as Minhyuk presses a hand against Kihyun’s face and Hyungwon steps on their feet.

“Heard you got hurt?”

“Are you alright?”

“Did you try to go down the slide again?”

“God, will you please grow up, you’re too big for that?”

Your brows furrow and you press your hand to your ears in frustration. “Would you all please shut up?”

Their mouth snap shut with an almost audible clack.

“It’s not a big deal–”

“Oh, please!” Hyungwon exclaims. “How is it not a big deal? You’re broken!”

A muffled wail comes from the space next to you, and when you turn around, Jooheon’s face is buried in his palms as he sobs.

You don’t get paid enough for this.

The principal approves two weeks off from work, because the ability to use a pencil is kind of important when you’re a kindergarten teacher.

Minhyuk and Kihyun insist on driving you home, a situation you do your best to get out of, but when Hyungwon proposes driving you home and staying over for two weeks to help you out, it definitely becomes the better option.

/

“So,” Minhyuk drawls as he brings the soda cup up to his lips, sucking noisily through the straw, “how’s lover boy?”

Your fingers come up to pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation. “His name is Hyunwoo. We’ve been dating for five months, Minhyuk. You know his name.”

“Right. So like I was saying, how’s it going with lover boy?”

Kihyun groans from the kitchen and strides out in a pink apron, knife in one hand. “Stop prying, Lee Minhyuk.”

“No. Go away, ugly.”

Kihyun returns to the kitchen with an exaggerated sigh, his cheeks a little red.

That’s new. Kihyun usually argues with Minhyuk for a good ten minutes.

Minhyuk turns to you, ears red as he chews on his lower lip. “Hey,” he whispers, “can I ask you something?”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “What.”

“Okay so this weird but Khyun and I may or may not have gotten drunk two nights ago and we may or may not have made out and he may or may not look really cute in that apron. So I may or may not want a repeat of that night sometime soon. On a regular basis. With other things.” Minhyuk wrings his fingers as he talks, on foot on the floor as he props the other up on your sofa.

You blink. “You like him?”

“Or may not.”

This is new.

Your mouth opens, but before you can say anything, Kihyun comes back into the room, this time holding a pot of soup in his hands.

“Eat, my spawn.”

“And so the ugly returns,” Minhyuk drawls from where he’s splayed across your sofa.

Kihyun sniffs and turns to Minhyuk with a grimace. “I hope you choke on a carrot.”

/

“I still can’t believe a five year old is the reason you have broken fingers,” Hyunwoo sighs over the phone, the faint revving of his motorcycle drowning out some of his words.

“Look,” you snap, hobbling out of the kitchen, a glass of water in one hand, “I couldn’t help it! Jooheon was–”

“He cried about it today when he came over,” Hyunwoo laughs. “He said he broke his favorite teacher.”

You laugh a little, wincing when your fingers slip on the glass. “He’s cute.”

“I know he is,” Hyunwoo murmurs as the sound of his motorcycle dims to a faint hum before it completely cuts. “He was really worried, but then Changkyun took out his legos and he stopped crying.”

Before you can answer him, the lock from your front door clicks and the knob turns. Hyunwoo saunters in, helmet tucked under one arm, a tote bag in his other hand.

“Hey, babe,” he grins as he tucks his phone into his jeans. Hyunwoo’s arms come into view as he shrugs his jacket off, a tight white shirt clinging to his chest. Your mouth grows dry.

“H–hey,” you answer, somewhat distantly as you stare at his arms. Hyunwoo is so nice to look at.

“My mom made you food and packed five blankets and sent over all the movies we have and also pain medicine.”

Hyunwoo walks closer to drop the bag down on your coffee table pulling out each blanket to lay it over your frame.

“Hyunwoo, I don’t need this many blankets,” you try, the sound muffled as he continues layering the blankets over your body.

“No. Trust me. My mom is great. She knows what she’s doing,” he answers, pulling out container after container of food.

“How did you get all of that to fit in there?” You ask, eyes wide in wonder.

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “My mom packed it. She’s like, a genius.” Hyunwoo looks up and smiles at you. “I love my mom.”

He pulls out a container of rice bigger than your head.

“My mom said this’ll last you for at least the day.”

“That’ll last me a week.”

“You gotta eat it all today. This is why you get hurt so easy. Nobody should break bones over a five year old landing on them.”

“Hyunwoo–”

“Hey, honey,” Hyunwoo says, brows furrowed as he reads the back of a pink cough syrup bottle. “Okay so I have baby medicine here. I know you’re small but . . . would this work on you?”

A heavy sigh escapes your lips. “No, baby. God, don’t you get sick?”

Hyunwoo looks up at you, expressionless. “No. My mom takes good care of me.”

“Shut the fuck u–”

“Have you not cleaned?” He interrupts, looking around the room. “Why are there so many crumbs on the floor?”

“Minhyuk and Kihyun came over and they both threw cookies at each other.”

You cross your arms over your chest and lean back into the soft leather of your couch.

Hyunwoo rolls his eyes and sighs under his breath. “When are they going to admit their feelings for each other?”

“Wait–what?” You stutter, voice painted with disbelief and shock. “You knew?”

Hyunwoo looks back up at you with an incredulous expression. “Of course I knew. Everybody knows. Except you. You’re really oblivious sometimes, babe.”

“My whole life has been a lie.”

/

Hyunwoo, as it turns out, is actually really good at taking care of you. He makes sure you take your medicine every five hours, brings you all your meals, and cleans your house.

You conclude that Hyunwoo is perfect. You’ve known this for a while.

Minhyuk and Kihyun come by again the next day, this time with Hyungwon in tow.

“I come bearing gifts,” Hyungwon announces as he walks into the room, dropping a bag of McDonald's down at the foot of your bed.

“A gift that cost you three dollars,” snorts Kihyun, one hand on his hip. You don’t miss the way his other hand is wrapped around Minhyuk’s, fingers intertwining.

“Three dollars plus tax!” Hyungwon exclaims, voice stretched with mock hurt, as he lays a hand over his chest.

Hyunwoo shifts on the bed next to you, the covers pulled all the way up to his chin. “Babe, how did they get in here? It’s six in the morning.”

“‘Sup, lover boy. We all know the passcode to get in. We just wanted to make sure she was doing alright.”

One day Lee Minhyuk will stop being an annoying brat.

Today, unfortunately, is clearly not going to be one of those days.

“Are you two . . . decent under there?” Minhyuk asks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Did lover boy enjoy his time here?”

Hyunwoo rolls his eyes and throws off the covers, clad in only a pair of sweatpants.

“Oh my,” Hyungwon says, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. “Scandalous.”

“Wow, ya’ll are really fuckin’ when she’s broken?” Kihyun mutters, his voice dubious. “Looks like we didn’t even need to show up.”

“Oh my god, Kihyun,” you cry, face beet red, “I was just–”

“She likes it when I sleep without a shirt,” Hyunwoo interrupts, shrugging. He doesn’t seem to realize that just makes you even more embarrassed. “I like it, too. I’m gonna go make breakfast now.”

And with that, he walks out of the room, whistling low under his breath.

Three pairs of eyes whip back to you, watching as you stretch your arms above your head, the blankets pooling around your waist.

Minhyuk is the first one to break the silence. “Is that–is that his shirt?”

Your ears burn, tugging your lower lip between your teeth. “. . . it smells like him.”

“This is disgusting,” Hyungwon announces, legs crossed almost daintily from where he’s perched in your armchair.

“Why did you guys just barge in here?”

“Well we didn’t expect you’d have your half-naked boyfriend in your bed,” Kihyun says, eyes rolling.

Your eyes narrow, lips pursing. “So, Kihyun, has your arm glued itself to Minhyuk’s waist?”

He snatches his hand away from Minhyuk’s waist so quickly he nearly smacks himself in the face.

“He’s short,” Minhyuk says, a smirk gracing his lips. “He’s just trying to hold onto someone tall enough so he doesn’t get lost.”

“I’m not that short!”

“You’re really short.”

“No!”

“Yeah.”

“. . . okay, yeah I’m kind of short. I know I’m short.” Kihyun bites his lip, stifling the smile that threatens to split his face in half.

“God, is this how you two flirt now?” Hyungwon interrupts, disgust clear on his face.

“Shut up and call me when you finally grow a pair and ask out Bona,” Kihyun snaps.

“Shut up, shrimp,” Hyungwon bites back, lips curled over his teeth.

Minhyuk’s eyebrows snap together in a near audible click. “Don’t call him a shrimp!”

“You just called him short!” Hyungwon exclaims, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

“Only I can call him short. Not you.”

“Wait guys,” you mumble, the words coming out of your mouth slowly, dripping with confusion. “Bona? Like the music teacher? Hyungwon likes the music teacher?”

Minhyuk looks at you, nose wrinkled. “Yeah. Everybody knows.”

“Seriously?”

A low voice wafts by from the door, laced with amusement. “Babe. Everybody knows.”

When you turn your head, you find Hyunwoo leaning against the doorframe, a lazy smirk painted across his face, hands crossed over his chest. Even though you’d like to be annoyed that nobody told you, Hyunwoo’s bare chest and the sweatpants slung low on his hips have you forgetting the irritated words on the tip of your tongue.

“God, is she drooling?” Hyungwon murmurs, voice reeking of distaste.

“Get out.”

/

Breakfast is pancakes and coffee with Hyunwoo, admiring the way his back muscles move as he washes the dishes, cooing when he lifts you up in his arms and drops you onto the sofa.

“Sit. Stay.”

He moves around your living room, cleaning and wiping down the furniture, mumbling something about messy friends under his breath, a slight furrow in his brows.

It’s adorable, really, watching him put so much effort into trivial things, but Hyunwoo has always been like that. Always put his everything into whatever he does, be it school or even cleaning your house. His shoulders roll back as he sighs, fingers scratching over his bare chest as he looks around the room, grimacing at the carpet.

“Why do they always throw cookies at each other when they come here?”

You shrug, lips pursing into a pout. “Dunno. But this time when Kihyun threw the cookie too hard and it hit Minhyuk’s eye, he kissed it better.”

Hyunwoo’s face breaks into a smile, a low giggle slipping past his lips. “It’s cute that they finally got together.”

“If by cute you mean disgusting.”

He pulls the vacuum out from the closet and plugs it in, lips puckered as he vacuums. Hyunwoo looks damn good like this, you realize, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, a trail of hair passing down his bellybutton. You bite down on your lower lip, head tilting to the side as he swivels the vacuum closer to the couch.

“Babe,” he says, jutting his chin to the side. “Move.”

Your arms automatically raise in the air, smiling at Hyunwoo. He sighs and steps forward, turning around as you wrap your hands over his shoulders, palms digging into thick biceps. Your legs curl over his waist, giggling as he hoists you up onto his back.

The muscles tense under your palms as he shifts, pulling the vacuum closer with one hand, the other pushing the couch up into the air. His fingers wrap loosely around the arm of the couch, muscles stiff as he vacuums underneath and you revel in the way Hyunwoo makes you feel so utterly safe.

“Babe,” he hums, as pushes the couch up higher, voice barely audible over the loud whirring, “Hyungwon mentioned he was going to bring take out but I don’t know when he’s comin–”

The front door chimes, lock clicking as it pushes open, interrupting Hyunwoo mid sentence.

Hyungwon saunters in, two plastic bags in his hands, and freezes at your doorstep. His face twists into a grimace, lip curling as he takes in Hyunwoo’s shirtless frame, your body draped over his back, the couch pushed up into the air with one hand, and the vacuum still noisily whirring.

“Disgusting,” he scoffs before turning on his heel and walking right back out the door.

/

“So,” Minhyuk drawls, munching noisily on a fry he pulls off of your plate, “Hyungwon tells me you and lover boy got real nice and cozy last week.”

Hyungwon scowls, eyebrows furrowed. “God, don’t remind me. She really does like it when he’s shirtless. I was appalled when I walked into the room and saw her hanging off his back . . . like some fucking growth.”

“She was hanging on his back?” Kihyun asks, eyebrows raised as he turns to Minhyuk. “Why don’t you ever carry me on your back.”

“Because,” Minhyuk replies, shoving three fries into his mouth, “you’re ugly and I don’t .”

“Yeah? Well you have a small dick and it’s not getting anywhere near my ass tonight.”

Minhyuk’s eyes fly open, hands raising up in defense. “Whoa there, baby, let’s not get carried away.”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his water. “You guys are so–”

“Shut up,” Kihyun snaps, his upper lip ticking at the corner. “You haven’t even asked out Bona.”

“Fuck off, shrimp.”

“I told you to stop calling him shrimp! Only I can do that!”

A groan escapes your lips as you bring your fingertips up to massage your temples.

You love your job, you really do, but also you hate your job.

A/N: sorry ive been so inactive w writing but liek,,,i cant think of any plots for some reason dfhkdjhf this is Rough but i cant bring myself to edit rn im sorry

Masterlist

[jennycalendar]

pint-size potential (3/3)

tagging @theforestlesbian in this last chapter bc she’s the whole damn reason this thing got finished. i love u alex and i am so so happy to know someone who also has All The Feels about buffy & giles’s father-daughter connection

ao3

The doorbell rang at three in the morning. This wasn’t what woke Giles up, though; he was woken up when Buffy, startled by the doorbell, began to wail loudly. Trying to figure out what might have upset Buffy at this ungodly hour, Giles sat up in bed, at which point he heard the doorbell ring and thought he might understand.

There was really only one person who would be ringing his bell at this hour. Giles turned on the light, staring at his bedroom, which was strewn with Buffy’s toys. Not to mention that he was breaking at least seven rules, having Buffy’s crib in his bedroom— “I’m coming,” he shouted, running down to answer the doorbell.

“Not at all prompt, Mr. Giles,” said Ms. Smythe disapprovingly. “I would expect you to be already packed. Your flight leaves in three hours.”

“I’m sorry?” Giles managed, half-wheezing. “When you contacted me—yesterday—you said—”

“Times change,” Ms. Smythe replied. “A true Watcher is prepared for any and every possibility. Be in the car in ten minutes.” With that, she turned and hurried down the driveway.

Giles stood there, somewhat frozen by the sheer panic he was currently grappling with. He’d packed, of course, had made sure to do so the day after he decided to apply for his transfer to Sunnydale. But there was still the matter of the toys upstairs, as well as the possibility of Ms. Smythe or another Watcher seeing the crib in the bedroom when the Council showed up to pack up the house, and he had to figure out how to move a rather heavy crib from his room to the old bedroom in ten minutes without Ms. Smythe noticing.

By some miracle, Giles managed to find it in him to shut the door and hurry upstairs. Buffy was still sobbing in her crib, and as soon as he lifted her out, she grabbed onto his shirt with both hands.

“No, see, this is actually a bit counterintuitive,” Giles stammered, because sometimes his talking calmed them both down a bit, “seeing as if you hold on to me, you obstruct me from making sure these things are out of my room, which means you’ll be placed with another Watcher and I’m sure—that is, I hope that’s not something you’d prefer, I really have been trying—”

Buffy’s crying was beginning to stop, but it would still take about five minutes for her to fully calm down. Giles placed her carefully down on the bed and hurried to pick up the toys, trying to figure out a non-incriminating place to put them while also trying to not give in and comfort a still-whimpering Buffy. Really, all of this was a complete disaster. He felt rather certain that Ms. Smythe was trying to catch him in the act of being kind to a child, which wasn’t making him feel all that fond of the Council. He rather missed his demon-raising days at this point.

Giles gave up and just started throwing toys out the window into the backyard. They weren’t Buffy’s favorites, anyway, and they could be left behind; he’d made sure to pack her favorite toys first so as to hide them as best as possible from the Council. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so overzealous with the toy-buying, but he’d been more than a bit touched by the whole they-were-both-useless-to-the-Council thing, and he liked thinking of taking care of Buffy as his purpose, and he’d never had all that much of a childhood what with a Watcher father and a tired, quiet mother and—

Outside, Ms. Smythe honked the car horn, even though it had only been about three minutes.

“I can make up some convincing story about the crib,” Giles told Buffy, and hastened to get dressed.

He didn’t have enough time to get Buffy properly dressed, but he did grab his carry-on luggage and wrap Buffy in a warm Council-approved blanket with two minutes to spare. Pausing on the stairs, Giles quietly bounced Buffy in his arms, trying to comfort her a bit before they entered Ms. Smythe’s car and were faced with a possible lecture.

Buffy exhaled softly; it sounded a bit like an exhausted sigh. “I quite agree,” said Giles, mouth twitching, and felt a little bit better.

Ms. Smythe started in on Giles as soon as he got into the car. “I’ll have you know,” she said, “that it is most unusual for an inexperienced Watcher with a low-relevance infant Potential to decide he would like to research a Hellmouth. Most unusual, especially with your background. I myself lobbied quite hard for your application to be denied.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” said Giles without really thinking about it. He ignored what he was sure was a very nasty look from Ms. Smythe, focusing on buckling Buffy (who was already drifting back to sleep) into the baby seat. “Will you be flying us to Sunnydale as well, or is your obvious distaste for everything I stand for limited only to Los Angeles?”

“You are a horribly unqualified Watcher,” said Ms. Smythe, which didn’t really answer the question.

Giles spent most of the car ride with one hand on the baby seat, steadying it as surreptitiously as possible. Ms. Smythe seemed almost determinedly focused on the road, which took a significant amount of pressure off of Giles. He even managed to tuck Buffy’s blanket around her a bit.

Truly, he thought, Eyghon was nothing compared to this sort of thing. It wasn’t true, but he felt like he was entitled to be a bit dramatic when he’d been woken at three in the bloody morning. Giles was not going to miss Ms. Smythe at all.

After what seemed like a very long car ride but what was probably about fifteen minutes of angry silence and driving, Ms. Smythe pulled into the airport parking lot, at which point she said very pointedly, “You can leave now, Mr. Giles. Get your bags from the trunk and take the Potential with you.”

“Thank you,” said Giles very sarcastically. “Goodness knows I would have forgotten her without your help.” To make a point, he picked up the entire car seat without unbuckling Buffy and staggered over to the back of the trunk.

“Mr. Giles, that car seat is Council property,” Ms. Smythe snapped from inside the car.

Giles was at this point much too tired to really consider how openly hostile he was being, and much too fed up to really care. He’d only been with the Council for a few years, and it had been a very long and very frustrating process of earning back their trust. He wasn’t all that fond of the organization, even if a few years ago he’d believed them to be his salvation; perhaps it’d be different if he’d spent longer than a few months behind his desk in the British Museum, but he supposed he’d never really find out. “I am not holding my Potential on my lap for an entire bloody plane ride, it is unsafe and you should know that,” he shouted back, placing Buffy’s car seat on the ground so that he could open the trunk. “And this is your fault for showing up at three in the damn morning just because you’re on some sort of godforsaken power trip—”

Buffy, waking up at the sound of Giles’s raised voice, started to screech.

Giles was suddenly beginning to understand very fast why parenting tended to be a two-person job. He’d dealt with the aftermath of raising a demon, he’d dealt with shame and distrust from nearly all his colleagues, but hearing Buffy upset in the middle of the parking lot and knowing he was the only person there to calm her was somehow one of the most isolating experiences he’d faced.

“This is going in my report!” Ms. Smythe shouted.

“Excellent!” Giles shouted back. “Let them know you’ve broken protocol by changing my flight plans the day of my departure!”

Interestingly enough, Ms. Smythe didn’t seem to have a response to that. Giles felt an exhausted sense of smugness, and celebrated his victory by unbuckling Buffy from her car seat and giving her a kiss on the top of her head. She still seemed quite upset, but settled down as Giles (struggling with the luggage a bit) entered the airport. He didn’t bother to look back.

Before checking his baggage, Giles donned a sort of front-facing baby backpack thing (he had no idea what it was called and was at this point afraid to ask), strapping Buffy to his front so as to keep his hands free. She fell asleep quite quickly. Giles was more than a bit jealous.

He hadn’t had time to feel lonely in the chaotic mess of adjusting to taking care of an infant, but suddenly the feeling was settling in and he felt awful. Sunnydale was a Hellmouth, certainly, but Giles was the only supernatural researcher there, and he was soon going to have to be doing extra work on top of managing whatever job the Council had found him and researching Sunnydale. He was going to be doing three times the work he’d signed up for as a Watcher, and he wasn’t going to have anyone else for company. Not that he ever had had a Watcher he’d been close to, but—it was still incredibly lonely, realizing something like this.

As Giles was mulling over this, Buffy stirred in the baby carrier and opened her eyes. They were a very soft gray color, those eyes, and she looked up at Giles with the same intent curiosity that she always did, as though he might have changed in the few minutes she’d been sleeping.

Giles thought about the first time he’d seen Buffy open her eyes, and about how much had changed in his life after that. He thought about Buffy’s independent spirit and how much of a challenge she seemed to love posing to him. He thought about finding out what kind of person Buffy might become.

“I’ll manage, I think,” he said softly. Then he headed towards the plane.