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casual-violinist-fangirl · 2 days

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Lullaby (2,705 Words)

More ba'buir Hunter? Your wish is my command!

This fic is heavily inspired by the song 'Kristoff Lullaby' from Frozen the Musical. If you want to read my short rant about how it suits a parent/child dynamic better than a romantic one, the link is here.

Omega experiences what Hunter calls 'the moment' and is reminded of the time that he realised Omega was more of a daughter than a little (big) sister. Lots of fluff and tiny baby Mina just for good measure!

As always, the link to my AO3 is here and the link to my masterlist on Tumblr is here.

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It was about a month into Mina’s life when it happened… when Omega had what Hunter liked to call ‘the moment.’

He had been woken up at around two in the morning; painfully early for him, but also unexpected. In the years since his retirement from fighting, Hunter had learned to enjoy a good night’s sleep and even though he was still a light sleeper, it was taking more to wake him now. For a moment he was confused as to why he was awake…

… until he heard the small whimpers of a baby coming from downstairs. Mina was up. Distantly, Hunter could also hear Omega humming a familiar tune that sent him spiralling back to a time when he had hummed the same song to soothe her to sleep after a nightmare.

Creeping out of his bed, he snuck downstairs and towards the living room; there, he spotted a sight that made his eyes water a little with sentimental tears.

There, in her pyjamas, was his daughter cradling her daughter as she swayed slowly and hummed a lullaby. Hunter could make out both of their heartbeats, Mina’s telling him that she had just fallen into a deep sleep once more. Omega’s, on the other hand, was slightly raised.

Hunter raised an eyebrow at this, wondering what could possibly be going on, but his question was answered when he heard small sniffle. His little girl was crying.

Coming out of hiding from his spot in the doorway, Hunter entered the room and went to stand in front of Omega. She had slow tears rolling down her cheeks and an unreadable expression painted across her face. Concern mounting inside of him, he reached out to brush away the tears with his thumb and smiled reassuringly at her.

“Everything okay, ad’ika?” he asked, trying not to sound too worried. “Everything okay with Mina?” He was met with silent nods as Omega smiled adoringly down at her daughter. Relief coursed through his veins, though that still didn’t answer the question of why she was crying.

There was a moments pause, and Hunter was beginning to get fidgety before Omega eventually answered his question.

“I just love her so much, it’s like I can’t breathe.”

In that moment, Hunter smiled softly at his kid. His daughter, who he was pretty sure had caused most of his grey hairs, so completely and utterly in love with her own child. The thought made his heart swell, especially when he remembered the moment he had started thinking of Omega as his daughter rather than his little sister…

——

(Many Years Earlier)

Sunsets on Pabu were beautiful, Hunter thought to himself as he sat perched on the sea wall. The way the sun reflected off of the sea as it peacefully rolled in and out served as a reminder of how peaceful their lives could be if they accepted Shep’s offer of a place to stay permanently.

“As a father, there isn’t a better place to raise a child,” he had said to Hunter as though the clone was a father himself. He didn’t correct the mayor, of course. It would be rude to correct someone who’s hospitality had been so great. And it’s not like this was the first time Omega had been mistaken for his kid. Only this time was the first time he had noticed Omega glancing at him with stars in her eyes as Shep made the comment…

In truth, he knew that the way he acted around the kid was different to the way his brothers did; Wrecker, Tech and Echo all acted towards her in a way he quite often saw in his interactions with them. Playful and teasing, lighthearted and caring. They were the ones she teased about being older than, the ones she played with or asked questions to. These interactions, once upon a time, had made Hunter jealous. How had his brothers managed to fall into the role of big brother so easily when all he could process around Omega was his stuttering heartbeat and the feeling of not being able to breathe unless she was safe? They were naturals at this, and it felt as though he was inadequate when it came to being the family member he wanted to be.

That was until the first comment had been made about Hunter being Omega’s father. She had gotten lost at the market and the wild terror in the sergeant’s eyes had alerted a kind shop-keeper. He had helped Hunter find the little clone, who had gone running into his arms sobbing and saying she was sorry for running away. She had been so little and so scared… it wasn’t long after their interaction with Cad Bane, so Omega was extra nervous about getting separated from her family. The shop-keeper smiled knowingly at Hunter’s thank yous, and had made the comment that had started the ball slowly rolling:

“Anytime. I’m a father. I know how nerve-wracking it can be to think your child’s missing.”

That night, Hunter had been mulling over the phrase as he tucked Omega into bed… that was something that she always wanted him to do, he realised. Never Wrecker, Tech or Echo. Always Hunter. Now that he thought about it, there were a few things he and Omega did that the others didn’t; she always asked for him when she’d had a nightmare and would curl up in his lap as he swayed his chair slowly. When she had grazed her knee, it was him she’d gone to and tearfully asked him to make it better. When she was ill, she wanted him and she clung to him like her life depended on it… Omega’s relationship with Hunter was different from the one she had with her other brothers, but that didn’t mean that Hunter was inadequate, not be any stretch.

If anything, it made him special.

“What’re you thinking about?” a small voice pulled him out of his thoughts and into the present again. There, stood next to the sea wall, was Omega with a curious look on her face. She nimbly clambered over the wall and perched next to him, shuffling close so that she could hold him for support if she needed to. Hunter didn’t really know how to respond at first. How did one just turn to the kid that he’d practically adopted and tell her that he thought of her as his daughter? It wasn’t exactly a casual conversation to be having.

“Just thinking about when we first met you,” he replied; not technically a lie. Omega nodded, her short, blonde hair waving in the breeze. “You’ve grown a lot since then, kid.”

Smiling, the young clone glanced down at herself. She was wearing her favourite outfit, the first one she had chosen and owned. She had sprouted not long after the fall of Kamino, which was a good thing really. She had needed new clothes and this gave them the perfect excuse to get them for her. Her favourite part of the ensemble was, of course, Hunter’s spare bandanna that she wore around her wrist.

“We’ve had a lot of fun,” she replied with a small laugh. “I’m guessing you don’t regret letting me tag along all that time ago? I really thought you wanted to get rid of me when you tried to send me away with Cut and Suu.”

Regret washed over Hunter; he had never been so glad that Omega had chosen to come with them, even after he’d tried sending her away. He couldn’t imagine life without her now, though thinking about it made him go misty-eyed.

“‘Course not, kid. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he cleared his throat as he spoke. The little girl glanced up at him, eyes wide at his admission. Hunter smiled down at her as she shuffled closer to him, forcing him to put his arm around her.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she whispered back, just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re not like the others… they’re amazing and I’m so proud to have them as my brothers but you’re different, Hunter.”

The man in question could feel his heart hammering out of his chest as he processed what was being said. Summoning his courage, he forced himself to remain calm as he tried to figure out what to say next. Turns out, he didn’t need to, because Omega wasn’t done talking; she buried her face in his side, nerves becoming apparent as she whispered a question that only he could hear. Hunter’s heart swelled and he blinked back the tears he could feel threatening to fall.

“Of course you can call me that, ad’ika,” he answered with a proud expression on his face. His little girl glanced up, stars in her eyes in the way that it had been when Shep had called him her father. She squeezed him tight, a grin on her face.

“Love you, buir.”

“Love you too, ‘Mega.”

That night, Hunter had tucked Omega into her bed in the house Shep had let them borrow. She had smiled sleepily as she wished him a goodnight and shuffled further under the covers. Her buir then went and sat in the living room of the home, his head resting against the back of the couch. His peace hadn’t lasted long, as not even an hour later, light footsteps padding down the stairs could be heard. Glancing up from his spot, he saw Omega pattering down the stairs and creeping into the living room like she wasn’t going to be spotted.

“Everything okay, ad’ika?” he asked, raising a concerned eyebrow. Omega nodded, wrapping her blanket further around her shoulders; she had Lula clutched in her arms as she clambered onto the couch and curled up next to Hunter

“Being in a bed is weird,” she whispered. “I can’t hear any of the normal sounds.”

Hunter nodded his understanding. Being in a house was weird when all he and his brothers had known was the sterile labs on Kamino and the Marauder. He wrapped an arm around his kid, letting her curl further into his side as she settled once more.

“You’re gonna get a sore neck if you fall asleep here,” he warned, but he didn’t really want her to move. Her response was a yawn and a shrug as if to say ‘I don’t care.’ Before long, Omega was drifting into a light sleep, her sleepy muttering only just audible.

“Goodnight, buir. I’m lucky to have you as my buir…”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Hunter summoned the courage to reply.

“Goodnight, ad’ika. Sweet dreams.” He pressed a light kiss to her hairline before resting his head back against the couch cushions. His eyes felt heavy and his heart felt full. A short nap here wouldn’t hurt, he mused to himself as he too drifted off…

… of course, that short nap turned into a deep, deep sleep.

Hours later, Hunter distantly heard Tech and Phee whispering as they crept past the soldier-turned-father and his daughter. One of them, Tech he thought, paused for a moment.

“What?” Phee asked, trying desperately to keep her voice down. Even with his eyes closed, Hunter could tell that Tech had one of his small, knowing smiles on his face.

“I believe,” he started in an equally quiet tone. “That Hunter has finally realised.”

“Realised what?”

“That he isn’t Omega’s older brother… I thought it was obvious from the way he acted around her, but he has remained pretty oblivious until our arrival here.”

There was a pause and a gentle huff of laughter left Phee. “Pabu has that affect on people,” she replied, a smile in her voice and Hunter could just tell that she was making what Wrecker would call ‘heart eyes’ at Tech.

The pair continued to sneak through the house; Hunter decided that he would store that information for later and enjoy using it to tease his brother. For now, he just wanted this moment with his daughter to last forever.

——

(Present Day)

Hunter couldn’t help the smile on his face as stepped forward and pressed a gentle kiss against Omega’s hairline. The baby in her arms stirred slightly, her face twitching at a brief discomfort before she settled back into a deep, dreamless sleep. Her ba’buir kissed her forehead too, before Omega offered her to him. He gently held the little girl in his arms, revelling in her tiny nose and little tuft of slowly growing blonde hair. Mina was definitely her mothers’ daughter, that much was for sure.

“That lullaby you were humming,” Hunter mentioned softly as he glanced up at his daughter. “The one I used to hum to you when you’d had nightmares.”

In reality, Hunter had memorised the tune and hummed it most nights after Omega had been rescued from Tantiss… both times. It had become the soundtrack to his evenings spent trying to soothe his little girl to sleep. She had gone through a period of refusing to go to bed at all, and when she eventually did collapse out of exhaustion she experienced the most twisted and disturbed nightmares. Nights on Pabu were full of tears and battling sleep, all the while Hunter would soothe his daughter with a simple melody he had memorised and long forgotten the words.

The woman in front of him nodded, clearly thinking back as well.

“I want her to know that it’s a comfort,” she replied. “That it’s a sign that she’ll never be alone and that I’ll never let anyone hurt her.” Hunter pulled a face, guilt filling him, but Omega stopped his thoughts short. “You don’t need to blame yourself for what happened to me, buir,” she insisted in a hushed tone. “It’s over now, and I have Mina and you and Crosshair and Wrecker and Echo.” She grinned. “Besides, your bu’ad doesn’t like seeing her ba’buir sad.”

As if by magic, Mina whimpered in her grandfather’s arms and he panicked a little before swaying with her and humming the same melody Omega had been. Before long, the tiny baby was asleep once more.

“I really am so lucky to have you,” Omega whispered as she observed Hunter with the baby. “Mina’s lucky to have you too, ba’buir.” She still teased him about his title of grandfather, even though he wore it like a badge of honour. Hunter rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at his daughter.

“And I’m lucky to have you, ad’ika,” he replied. “Mina couldn’t have a more perfect mother.” Omega snorted and went to protest, but he cut her off. “Omega. She couldn’t ask for better,” he insisted. His little girl’s eyes watered slightly as she smiled, taking Mina off of her ba’buir. She reached up and pecked him on the cheek before wishing him goodnight and heading back to bed with her now sleeping child.

Feeling restless, Hunter decided that he was going to go and sit outside.

He eventually found himself outside, on the roof of their home; it was something he had started doing when Omega had been rescued from Tantiss for the second time. Watching the stars had always been soothing, and doing it from the safety of his home only improved the experience.

As he watched them tonight, he thought of his brother and the words he had whispered to Phee all those years ago. He smiled sadly as he thought about Omega and how much Tech had missed…

“Omega’s finally realised, Tech,” he spoke softly to the stars. “It’s finally hit her.” He chuckled. “You’d be so proud of her, I know you are.”

It looked as though the stars twinkled just a little bit more as he spoke, almost like they were listening to his conversation and replying to him.

‘I’m always proud of her.’

Laying back and sighing, Hunter allowed the cover of the stars and the gentle, warm breeze lull him into a light sleep. He was sure that his back wouldn’t thank him later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment. His eyes heavy and his heart full, he fell asleep thinking of how lucky he was to have his family.

#the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #sw tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tbb fic #parental hunter #hunter is omega’s dad #space dad hunter #good parent hunter #good parent omega #new mum omega #family fluff #lots of fluff

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bibuck-saved-me · 5 months

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learning about buck’s childhood just makes the grocery store moment so much worse. he talks to the 118 about his problems because he thought he could trust them with it. because the only other person he could ever talk to about anything was maddie, and even she was always just a little bit out of reach. he tells them so much bad stuff because they’re supposed to be the safe place he can go where nothing hurts. somewhere he isn’t alone. his family, to remind him that he is loved and everything is gonna be okay.

what eddie said told buck that it never was a safe space. that every time he spoke to them, when he thought he finally found someone who cared enough to hear him, there was a part of them that saw him as a nuisance. an exhausting nuisance who complains about everything. who’s problems are so minuscule, they don’t matter at all. he was an inconvenience. something they had to carry but didn’t want to.

just like his parents.

#please don’t yell at me for this i do love eddie and the 118 #as someone who relates a LOT to buck this is how i perceive the situation #when you grow up invisible and you finally trust someone with all of you it leads to a lot of opening up #about all sorts of things even just stubbing your toe cuz for once in your life you have someone! who might care!#even though it’s just your toe #because in the past it was never just your toe #it was every single thing that hurt #every bad moment you kept inside because you were alone in the world #there was no one there to hug you when you were sad #buck’s parents may have started out caring when he got physically hurt #but they were always emotionally neglectful #and when they did care they cared for the wrong reasons in the wrong way #and even that faded with time #their love wasn’t just conditional it was. it was so rare #how many times did he sit alone and ache and ache and ache #and all he wanted was someone to hold him. tell him he’s gonna be okay #how many times did he cry himself to sleep #how many times did he sit and wonder what he did wrong. why they saw through him. why he wasn’t enough #what could he do to be enough? what would make them look at him and see him #and be happy with what they saw #happy enough to smile at him #god what he would’ve done to have someone smile at him #and then he thought he found it. he thought he could be enough for someone. they loved him #they listened to him #and then eddie says that it’s whining. that it’s annoying and exhausting and awful #that buck should suck it up and deal with it on his own #and. and the pain he must have felt #911 #evan buckley

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xxsabitoxx · 5 months

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Stay Quiet

Yuta x Fem! Reader Smut / characters are 18+

Warnings: semi-public sex, hotel sex, sex with someone else sleeping in the room, titty worship, raw sex, creampies, squirting

A/N: Baby boy is backkkkkk _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): since I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write smut… here is a smut imagine :D

Word count: 1.7k

“Y-yuta~”

Your back is arching into him, hand slapping over your mouth to try and suppress your whimpers. Your boyfriend isn’t listening to your quiet pleas, his head under your shirt, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples.

His only response is stopping his sucking to bite instead, earning a sharp cry from your lips that you quickly try and smother. Beside you, the bed is rustling as Inumaki tosses and turns in his sleep.

Not even a vacation with long time friends in a shared hotel room with two beds would stop Yuta from having his way with you. So long as you kept quiet…

“Yuta please…” you begging him, tone soft but labored as his hand tightened its grip on your side. Still, he didn’t respond, mouth far too preoccupied to speak.

You could only imagine the mess he was making, littering your skin in bruises and saliva to make you his. He’s always adored your breasts, both in the sexual and non-sexual sense. Sometimes he just needed to hold them, other times he needed to fuck them.

You never complained, not when he worshiped you the way he did… the way he was right now.

You could feel your eyes threatening to roll back, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud as his thigh pressed further to your covered cunt. You were soaked, Yuta could feel the dampness through your night shorts as they pressed into his bare thigh.

Yuta left your breast alone, kissing the bruises he left before turning his head to the one he had been neglecting. It sent a whole new wave of pleasure through you, hand pressing to your mouth tighter as you couldn’t contain your whine.

He nipped at your skin, just hard enough to leave teeth indents that would turn into pretty bruises.

Your hips jerked as he bite down on your nipple, pain and pleasure making you clench around nothing. Your cunt dragged along his thigh, too many layers separating you to gain any real satisfaction from the friction.

“A-at least fuck me, Yuta.” You begged him, hand slotting back over your mouth as he sucked your neglected nipple. Still, you were left with no response, nothing but his hips jerking against your abdomen told you that he had heard your quiet plea.

You felt him, hard and heavy resting on your abdomen, straining in his briefs. If it weren’t for the sheer amount of body heat from being under the covers, you’d have been able to to feel the wet patch forming on the front of him.

Yuta indulged himself further, practically moaning as his hips rolled against you. “N-not fair.” You breathed, one of your hands coming down to rest on top of his head, not able to reach his hair since he was protected by your shirt. “So hot… Yuta I’m hot…”

You knew it was useless, he wasn’t going to stop anything he was doing until he was good and ready.

You could feel it though, your skin was starting to turn slick with sweat. So was Yuta’s, but that didn’t seem to phase him at all. Not when he was lathering your breast with his tongue and whining as he rut his hips against your abdomen.

So needy yet so controlling.

It was a dizzying mix, being completely at his mercy.

Your hips rolled against his thigh, trying to create some sort of relief since he was purposely ignoring you. Three rolls of your hips and Yuta’s grip was tightened, stopping you from moving all together as he released your nipple with a soft pop.

“So fucking needy.”

He practically seethed, pulling his head out from under your shirt to glare at you. “M-me?” You whisper yelled, face warm from anger and need. “Yes you.” Yuta shot back, the anger on his face didn’t concern you.

Not when you could feel his cock twitching.

“We’re both needy, you’re just mean, Yuta.” Your lip wobbled, head turning to look at the other hotel bed. Inumaki had seemed to settle into a deep sleep, back facing the two of you.

“Eyes on me.”

You shivered involuntarily, head turning back to face Yuta in record time. “If I fuck you, you need to keep quiet.” You nodded eagerly, but Yuta wasn’t satisfied.

“Promise me you’ll stay quiet.” You felt your breathing stop, taking a moment to start again as you quietly whispered “I promise.” Yuta still seemed skeptical.

“I still don’t believe you.” He mumbled as he began pulling down his briefs, just enough for his cock to spring free. “Yuta I mean it.” You whined, hands rushing to yank your sleep shorts and panties off for him.

“You’re never quiet, pretty girl.” Warmth flooded you, causing you to suck your lip between your teeth as your hips raised. Yuta helped you despite scolding you, tossing the two clothing items off to the side.

“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll stop.”

You nodded, taking your vow to silence literally as his fist wrapped around his cock. Your legs spread further to accommodate him, cunt throbbing with the desire for him to be inside of you.

“Tell me you understand, pretty girl.”

He froze just as he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you further by prolonging what you needed. “I understand, Yuta.” And he pressed in, watching your mouth fall open as your chest rose and froze.

You were good, holding in the moan that was threatening to burst your lungs as he sunk deep. Your cunt had no resistance, swallowing his cock whole as he bottomed out inside of your tight heat. “Good girl.” He groaned.

Your hands found their way to his biceps, nails digging into his muscles as your legs locked around his hips. You managed to exhale the breath you had been holding, barely making a noise louder than a pant.

Yuta wasted no time, hips drawing back and snapping forward. Your head fell back against the pillow, mouth open as a quiet gasp left you. He was focused, head dipping down to watch where he appeared and disappeared inside of you.

Never mind being mindful of the noises you were making, Yuta had to be mindful of the noises your bodies made. Anything louder than the squelching and bed creaking and he was certain Inumaki would be waking up.

But it was hard to be rational when your cunt was suctioning to him, velvety walls begging to milk him for all he was worth. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

Every drag of his cock had you arching, scratching at his biceps as sweat dripped down your brow. You couldn’t think straight, breath catching in your lungs every few thrusts as you tried to ignore the urge to scream his name. “K-kiss me.” You managed to choke out.

It certainly wasn’t a whisper, the rustling in the bed over confirmed that. Yuta dropped lower, practically draping his body over you, hips rolling slowly rather than thrusting as he slotted his lips over yours.

Still, he was listening, silently praying Inumaki wouldn’t wake up because dammit he was certain he wouldn’t be able to stop fucking you even if he did.

“Y-Yuta-“ it was muffled, swallowed whole by his tongue slipping past your lips. You gave in, nearly melting into the mattress from his weight settling on you, the close proximity causing his pubic bone to brush your clit.

You felt it then, molten hot arousal pooling in your gut as he offered to the slightest bit of relief.

Yuta pulled away, saliva keeping your lips connected. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. He almost woke up.” You nodded, eyes so bleary and lips so swollen that he couldn’t bring himself to really scold you.

Yuta found his pace again, hips smacking into yours and creating a soft slap that was just barely muffled by the hotel comforter. He was struggling to contain his own noises as your cunt clenched around him, one of your hands falling away from his bicep to sneak between you.

“Rub your clit for me, pretty girl. Make yourself cum on my cock.” It was a whisper but it seemed to echo off the walls of your skull, rendering you completely speechless.

You did as he asked, hand slipped down to feel your soaked cunt, rubbing your clit in face circles as Yuta’s cock stroked your sweet spot. “Make yourself cum on my cock, please. You know how much I love that.”

You nodded, mouth hanging open as breathless pants slipped past. They were quiet enough to not wake Inumaki but if anyone were to enter the room, it would be painfully obvious what was happening.

Yuta watched you, eyes torn between watching your tits bounce with each thrust and watching where his cock kept disappearing inside of you. It was utterly entrancing, making him gasp as his cock twitched violently within your walls.

“I’m gonna cum, pretty girl. Cum with me please.”

His voice cracked, face sweaty and flushed as he begged you so sweetly. It sent electricity straight down your spine, clit throbbing as your orgasm built. The thrusts got harder, a little sloppier… and louder.

Not that Yuta could care in that moment, he seemed to forget everything he had been drilling in your head as he moaned your name. You whined, eyes widening at the volume of his voice as your walls clenched again.

You were close, fueled by the feeling of his cock twitching deep inside of you. “Cum with me, please.”

Breathless, you nodded, head falling back as you brought yourself over the edge just as Yuta did. His hips stuttering before burying deep, pushing against your cervix as he spilled his load in you.

You had barely registered the warm gush that flooded between your thighs, not until Yuta collapsed on top of you. “Fuck.” You offered weakly, feeling the dampness on the sheets below accompanied by your sweaty skin.

“We made a mess.” Yuta’s tone was sheepish, vibrating your neck as he spoke into it. “It definitely reeks of sex in here too…” you felt your face burning, realizing there wasn’t any windows open to allow ventilation.

“He’ll figure it out regardless.” Yuta sounded defeated but you could feel a smile on his face. “I’ll take the blame… since I’m the one who can’t resist your breasts.”

“You better.”

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fairy-hub · 21 days

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“𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! Sukuna is mean, Monster fucking, breaking and entering (reader is aware he is coming), somnophilia, choking, hints of masturbation, choking, manhandling, huge huge huge size kink that swings both ways, let’s say Sukuna’s monster cock can fit cause I say so, light pain kink, degradation/taunting/hints of praise if you count being called a slut in bed rewarding (which I do but to each their own), pussy slapping, pinching your clit once, mentions of a toy that he licks once to see if it still tastes like you what can I say he is a nasty fucker,

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! ❛ there’s so many things i wanna do to you.❜ + sukuna

𝟏𝟑𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Fey; monster fucking with sukuna always hits just right but when you add consented to somnophilia + breaking and entering

Sukuna slowly pulls your curtains back, the full moon illuminates you bedroom well enough. He grabs your blanket and gentle peels it off, bunching it at the bottom of the bed.

The inhuman toy cock next to you catching his attention. It’s thick but yet it still pales in comparison to his’ own. It’s hot that you have something like this to occupy your time when he is away.

Did he ruin normal men for you? He hopes so. He wants your sloppy cunt to crave his inhuman cocks.

Sukuna picks the toy up and licks it, tasting your sweet cunt. Swirling his tongue around it’s tip. He considers triple stuffing you, but which hole should he shove it in?

You roll onto your back and stretch your arm out, seeking your blanket. Promptly giving up when you didn’t immediately find it. You’re in the perfect position for Sukuna to play with you.

Making quick work of his sweats, his shirt having ripped off when he transformed before he broke into your house. Something you’ll have to pay for.

He carefully climbs onto the bed, towering over you, giving him a thrill. Comparing himself to you, you’re so small, weak and vulnerable, perfect for manhandling and stuffing his cock into.

Whimpering in your sleep, “Sukunnn..” Your soft cunt quivers around his thick fingers. You’re so wet, soft and tight around him. Licking your soft clit with his hand’s tongue. Whilst slowly spreading your legs apart.

You furrow your brows, and slowly open your eyes. “Whaaann?” He bites your thigh when you try to close your legs. Using his weight to force your smaller, soft body into a mating press.

He accusing you, “You’re a brat, there wasn’t a window or door unlocked for me.” Roughly smacking your soft wet cunt.

You whine, “I know!” Another harsh slap, and he glided his thick fingers in, licking your clit. You mewl, “Nnn you can pick the lock!” His fingers and tongue is magical on your cunt. Your thighs trembles, toes curl and your cunt is soaking his hand.

Sukuna looks down at you, “You got tighter, does it turn you on thinking about me wanting your sloppy cunt so badly I’d break in for it?”

He glides his fingers out, smacking your cunt whilst crooning. “What a depraved slut!” Pinching your soft clit, smirking when you cry. You’re so helpless in his large hands, it’s so easy for him to manhandle and fuck you as he pleases.

“I’m your depraved monster cock loving slut.” Sukuna stuffs his hand’s thick tongue in your soft aching cunt. Squeezing your throat, fondling your breast, switches between sucking and biting.

He fondles your soft breasts, sucking on your nipple. “Let’s see how much my cum my cocksleeve can take before falling back asleep.” Replacing his soft tongue with his long thick fingers stretching your cunt out.

He insists, “There are so many things I wanna do to you.” He loosens his grasp on your throat. “How long do you think you can keep me entertained for?” Gliding his fingers out, smearing your slick on his cock.

“I dunno I’m sleepy, but you can keep fucking me even after I pass out.” He’s monstrous, towering over you, nudging your soft cunt with his fat cock.

You winch when he rolls his hips forward, giving you just the tip. His cock above it, rubs your soft clit. You whine reaching down, splaying your hands above his stomach’s mouth. He grabs your wrist, raising it above your head tightening his grasp around your neck.

Sukuna lifts you bed, sinking you down on his cock. Your head reaches his chest, tilting your head back Sukuna makes you look up at him.

He sneers ,“Since you already had fun without me I don’t have to stretch you out right? I can have my fun, use your soft little cunt how I want.” Pressing your smaller body to the wall, you’re so helpless.

He smirks, “This is the kind of perverted shit that gets a monster fucker like you off isn’t it?” Sukuna is beating your pussy up, making her squelch and your toes curl.

You clench your cunt and his smirk drops with a loud groan. “Stupid little brat with your dumb little cunt.”

all works

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dante-mightdie · 3 months

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part 3. of the toxic!simon adventure (contains smut)

alex begins making many more appearances in your life and simon can’t fuckin’ stand it. tells himself that there’s just something off about that guy, doesn’t seem like he could protect you if it came to it. this statement made price let out a scoff in response

“he’s one of the best soldiers i’ve ever worked with, simon. besides, they’re just bein’ friendly with each other.”

“too friendly…” simon mumbles under his breath, narrowing his eyes as he watches you laugh at one of alex’s silly puns

simon spends a lot of time at the Price household. he says it’s because your old man lives closer to base but the truth is he can’t stand being alone in his flat in manchester, haunted and plagued by the chaos he’s seen on the field

he didn’t appreciate how often he was bumping into alex keller when he came to visit. price claiming that alex has to some work to conduct in the UK and offered him a place to stay. nothing to overthink, he says.

except for the fact that you’re both attached at the hip. watching tv together, joining alex on his morning runs, driving you around to help you run your errands. simon watches with a twitch in his eye, a mean feeling bubbling up in his chest as he watches his favourite toy get snatched up by the new kid in the playground

simon is constantly finding opportunities to get in your way, or more specifically, get in Alex’s way. He’ll watch from the kitchen as Alex’s hand twitches to reach out for yours when you’re both watching some show you were both talking about at dinner…

so simon decides he wants to watch that show too, planting himself right beside you, if he was any closer he would be sitting in your lap.

he caught a peek of the two of you stood in the back garden, alex pointing up at the night stars and leaning over to whisper something in your ear, making you giggle

so simon decided he needed to have a cigarette right that second, stalking out into the garden and slamming the door to announce his presence

“not interrupting anythin’, am I?”

you both sheepishly smile and shake your heads, seperating from each other

later on that night when the house is quiet and everyone has headed off to bed, simon finds himself unable to sleep. he thinks about going for a smoke or having another glass of bourbon but instead finds himself with his hand down his sweats, sloppily pumping his cock

in his other meaty hand, he holds his phone. a picture of you clad in some stringy lingerie that you sent to him one late night a few months ago. these pictures were always the product of you having a bad day and then being ignored by simon

crying in your room because he’s an emotionally unavailable prick, telling yourself that you’re over it and you’re gonna ignore him too. and then less than an hour later, your posing for your camera in a desperate attempt to get him to come to your room

well, at least, that’s what you used to do. simon never responded to these pictures. not even a thumbs up. perhaps you got tired of being ignored by him, simon thinks. or maybe you want him to send you a picture this time. or maybe, just fucking maybe, you’re sending these pretty pictures to someone else…

the thought makes simon yank his hand from his trackies with a curse falling from his lips. his cock aching and leaking against the material of his boxers, desperate for release. he snatches his mask from the bedside table and trudges down the hallway, only to stop at the sound of breathy moans coming through the crack of your door

it’s nearly 2AM. why is the light on in your room? why are you awake? simon’s brain runs a mile a minute with thoughts of you. when did he start thinking about you?

he places a hand on your door and slowly pushes it open enough so you can’t see his bulky frame in the dark hallway

and there you are. laying on your back with your forearm over your eyes, loud moans escaping your throat as desperate sobs. for a second, simon’s brain doesn’t even notice there’s another person in your room, too focused on watching your blissed out expression to notice that Alex was on top of you, pushing on your thighs to tuck your knees behind your ears

the slick sounds of your pussy being fucked would probably have been enough to keep simon’s cock hard, but not when he’s watching you fall apart in another man’s arms

he’s got you folded into a mating press, repeatedly slapping his hips into yours. he nearly vomits from rage when he hears you cry out his name

“Alex! fuck, I can’t… ‘s too much…” you whine out, bracing your hands on his shoulders when Alex reaches up to grip the headboard of your bed

“yeah, ya can, sugar. so good for me. such a good fucking girl. all pretty for me, ain’t that right, baby?” he whispers in your ear, but simon heard it. and it makes him fucking rage that this is what has become of him. standing in the pitch black corridor, watching you get fucked by another man like a pervert

but simon isn’t getting off on this. no, how can he enjoy staring at your panties dangling from your ankle knowing he wasn’t the one tugging them off your wet pussy? how can enjoy the sound of your moans when you silence them by pulling on Alex’s dogtags for a kiss?

you look so pretty when you come, simon thinks to himself as you squeal and kick your feet against Alex’s back. so pretty when it’s too much for you…

not that simon would know. he always turned your face away from his when you fucked, putting you on your knees and shoving your face into the mattress.

simon decides it’s too much for him to handle when he hears you begging for Alex to come inside of you. stalks back to his lonely room and unlocks his phone, shoving his hand back into his boxers and loading up a picture of you…

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #toxic!simon #alex keller #alex keller x reader

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crystallinestars · 6 months

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How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou shikanoin x reader #kaveh x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #venti x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wriothesley x reader #For some reason Lyney's part is the longest

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onlyswan · 11 days

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summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 9 months

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random percy headcanons:

wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.

literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck

his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)

he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it

will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs

the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.

he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it

percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao

back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone

has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on

weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like

shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao

bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺

can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao

gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.

movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(

percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake

he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it

has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks

grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic

has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.

he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao

he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence

called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week

the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured

has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him

he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.

he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class

currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!

its his birthday<3

#percy jackson #pjo #hoo #toa #percabeth #molly mumbles

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multific · 2 months

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Motherhood

Yautja x Reader

Summary: After you gave birth to your son, it took you some time to get used to having a half-Yautja and half-human.

You felt sore all over.

You moved against the fur but your whole body felt sore.

You could hear your mate’s soft breathing, it immediately made you feel at ease.

Yet, something felt out of place.

As you stirred from your sleep, you sat up in your bed and looked around. Everything looked normal, except for one thing.

The little child who used to be under your heart was now in a crib beside you.

You looked at your mate, sleeping soundly beside you.

He got used to sleeping with you to the point where he didn’t even care anymore if you moved or woke up.

It wasn’t always like that.

He often woke up with you when he took you into his home, but he got gradually used to you being with him.

You moved over to the crib, leaving the warmth of your bed, you stood up and got your son out of his crib.

It was a little strange to call him your son, after all, he looked nothing like you.

He looked like a pure Yautja, except for his eyes, his eyes were yours.

He wasn’t sleeping when you lifted him out of his crib, instead, he was watching, learning.

You ignored all the pain in your body as you moved out of the bedroom and into what you would call a kitchen.

You got yourself a glass of water as you sat down on one of the chairs. With your child in your arms, you moved him so you could see his face.

He laid in your lap.

“Will you never cry?” But your Baby had no reply. Of course, he didn’t he wasn’t even a day old. You watched him as his eyes wandered from your eyes to your chest and hands.

You held a finger out to him, which caught his attention and he immediately grabbed it.

He continued to watch your finger as you smiled.

This little moment reminded you that even if he looked like a Yautja, he was still a baby.

Your baby.

This little boy in your lap was not so long ago in your stomach.

It was crazy to think about.

Your house felt a little too quiet, usually you were never up without your mate. So, this felt a little strange.

You looked at your son.

“How am I supposed to feed you?” You said as you lifted him, trying to see if he was hungry or not. He was, you didn’t know how, but you could tell.

You pulled your nightgown down and you didn’t know how, but he was a natural.

You watched as he fed.

He truly didn’t feel like your son. You looked after so many Yautja babies when you joined their tribe, this felt almost like one of those moments.

Except for the feeding part. Only a mother can feed their child.

And your son was no exception.

While he was born into a very high place in the hunting tribe, he was still your son.

A highly anticipated member.

Your Mate was the right had of the tribe leader, a high position with lots of responsibilities.

One of which was to bring a son into the world.

Which you just managed to do.

You had a pregnancy which left your body sore and your mate feared the worst, but thankfully, you were able to give birth without any major issues.

And now, here you were, holding him and feeding him.

Your thumb ran down his little cheek, right next to where his mandibles were.

“You are beautiful.” You smiled and the child just kept looking at you.

Once he finished eating you pulled your gown back and pulled him to your chest, laying him down.

Did Yautja babies even burp?

Guess you will find out soon.

He did burp.

A small little burp.

And soon, he was off again.

You got up from the chair and headed back to the bedroom.

You got in, the fire was still going, but now, your mate was up.

He looked at you then at your son in your arms.

“He was hungry.” You said as you put him back into his crib before climbing back on the furs.

You let out a long yawn before getting under the covers.

Your mate made a sound before laying back down himself. You lay down closer to him as he pulled you closer.

Maybe it was a difficult thing to give birth to a Yautja baby. Maybe it was difficult being married to one as well.

But you loved them both with all of your heart and that was enough, more than enough.

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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peachesofteal · 6 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: 2 of 2 for sickfics. Requested by multiple.

At first, Simon thinks the sound of his cellphone is an explosion.

It doesn’t register completely in his dream. It starts as a slow beeping sound, like a ticking, and then morphs into everything else, the usual. Explosions and blood, screaming and crying amidst the rubble, dust swirling in the air. In the dream, he doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know how he got there, only knows that he was looking for you, searching the faces and the limbs of the deceased for any sign of you and Emma, picking through slabs of concrete until the crying got closer, until it sounded like it was right on top of him, or underneath him, somewhere he can’t see but-

“’lo?” “Simon?” He squints, adjusting for a split second, before shooting straight up in bed.

“I’m here.” He told you to call, nearly begged you to ring him if you needed anything after he left your flat earlier. You were still in awful shape, but managed to get in the shower, and Emmaline had been fed and put back down to bed. He was able to help you with your dishes, washing and stacking them where he hoped they went, tucking the bottles upside down on their drying rack. There wasn’t more of a reason to linger in your flat. He didn’t want to be a nuisance.

“I’m s-sorry, did I wake you?” You sound upset. Still heavily sick, throat clogged with a cough, but your voice is distress ladened, sour with fear. You sound like you did that day the guy followed you in the park.

“No. What is it?” He fumbles for his jeans, sliding them on, phone tucked between his ear and chin. The mask is in there, he double checks, and he’s still trying to coax it out of you when he pulls his sweatshirt on.

“It’s Emma… she’s- she’s not getting any better and I don’t know what to do, I need to take her to hospital.” You’re crying, panicked, Emmaline screaming through the walls, and his skin breaks out in a cold sweat. What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she getting better? You’re still talking in the background, anxiously explaining her temperature and the reasoning for something medical he doesn’t understand, enough time for him to make the very short trip to your front door. His fingers twist around the handle, grateful it’s locked, frustrated it stands between him and the two of you. “- and what if I waited too long and something really bad has happened and I just know she must be so uncomfortable and I’m a terrible mum I just didn’t think that taking her to hospital was the right thing, there are so many germs already there and what if-“

“Hey, listen. Listen to me, love.” He tries to jog your attention, snapping you free from your spiral. “Everything’s going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper.

“Can you open the door, sweetheart?” He coaxes you, gritting his teeth at the sound of your harsh breathing, combination of your tears and what he’s sure must be a chest infection making you gasp a little bit, like you’re running out of air. He hears the click of the deadbolt, and the scrape of the chain- door all locked up, just like he taught you. Good girl. “That’s it.” He encourages, waiting for the turn of the handle.

You’re hyperventilating on the other side, still gripping the phone tight, crying baby in your arms, all bundled up like you’re preparing to take her outside… except you’re wearing a thin pair of pajama pants and a t shirt, frantic look in your eyes, missing a shoe.

Without thinking, he steps forward and pulls you into his chest, snuggling Emma between you and him, careful not to squish her, but keeps you close with a hand on the back of your head. It’s all instinct, something that’s been wired in the back of his mind, sleeping dormant for so long. He’s not quite sure how his hands know to give you comfort, but they do. Just for you, for Emmaline, and he lets himself fall into it, murmuring something soft into your hair, pulling her from your arms as he encourages you to get a jacket on, helping you with the one sleeve, making sure you both get your hats, helping you get her settled in the carrier. He keeps a hand on you the whole way to the car, your nerves about installing the base easily soothed when he shows you he knows how to do it, (and fails to mention the youtube videos on quick install that he’s been watching recently, just in case) settling her and then you in, even reaching over to buckle your belt as you lean over car seat, anxiously distracted, watching your baby. “Alright, ready?” He asks you gently, and you look to him, eyes wet with tears, limbs heavy. The need to reassure you, soothe you, screams in his head, and he takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles. “It’s going to be alright.” I swear. I’ll burn the world if it’s not. “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you. I promise.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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steddiewithachance · 1 year

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"You Should Date My Nephew"

"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.

Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.

433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.

Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted home. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.

The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.

"H'llo? Eds?"

"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.

"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"

"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this.

But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.

"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.

"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."

"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."

"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.

And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish grin and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the house, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.

So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.

"The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.

"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.

"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."

And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.

"Hey, Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.

But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.

"Here, Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.

"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.

"Well yeah, of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.

By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.

On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?

He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.

"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.

"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.

"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.

A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.

"You should date my nephew."

Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.

"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.

"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.

"What, you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.

"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"

"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.

"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.

"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."

"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.

"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.

"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the Munson's place. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.

"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the house which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.

Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.

"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"

Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.

"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.

"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"

"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.

"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.

"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."

And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."

#steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie #eddie munson #wayne munson #Wayne Munson POV #steve/eddie

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yawnderu · 7 months

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Perfect Life — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

The first night the baby is home, Simon is so elated, mind racing 100 miles per hour. He glances at you and the sleeping baby between both of you, afraid he would crush her in his sleep despite knowing he sleeps like a rock.

What if this time is different? What if he has a nightmare and accidentally hurts either of you? What if someone breaks in? He doesn't have nightmares as often anymore, sleeping with you helps keep them at bay and you both have a fancy security system, yet he'd never forgive himself if anything goes wrong... so he does what he does best; be a guard dog for his girls.

"I love you." He whispers to both of you, laying on his side and looking at you both as if he was examining you in a lab, your breathing pattern he memorized years ago is still the same, and now he's memorizing the one of the little girl in front of him, carving it in his brain just in case if anything is wrong, he'll be able to tell.

It's been almost two hours and Simon isn't sleeping, staying up late and having a bad sleeping pattern became a part of him after so many years serving yet this time he isn't watching an enemy or a facility they're targeting, no, he's watching something much more important. He's watching his wife cuddle the baby in her sleep, her touch delicate yet protective, just as he imagined it would be ever since he found out you were pregnant.

He moves carefully around the bed, hand grabbing his phone and turning the brightness all the way down. Simon looks at you again just to make sure you're asleep before unlocking his secure folder, the corners of his mouth tilting up when he sees the contents of the folder.

It's full of pictures and videos of you, starting back in the day the 141 was formed, until you were heavily pregnant. The latest picture was of all three of you, holding the newborn in the hospital room, happy smiles on both of your faces and pure pride in his eyes. A small chuckle escapes him when he remembers how the nurse he approached seemed scared of him until he asked if she could take a picture of him and his girls, looking around one more time to make sure you were still asleep despite being able to hear your soft snores.

I'm so proud of you. His lips curled up into a soft smile, eyes starting to sting as they did every single time he remembers how far you've come. You look so different from the first time he met you—in fact, you both do, yet you're as beautiful as ever; fresh out of the hospital, no makeup, messy hair, and a peaceful look on your sleeping face while you hold the baby.

Thank you so much. In the quietness of his room and in bed with his two girls, Simon allows the tears to escape his eyes for the first time in years. I didn't even know I could cry anymore.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead and does the same for his little girl before laying back down, an arm protectively wrapped around your waist and over the baby, setting a safe distance between him and his little girl in fear of crushing her in his sleep. With one final look at his pride and joy he drifts off to sleep, his behemoth frame used as a protective shield for both of you in case something happens. Deep inside, he knows you're all safe.

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tender-rosiey · 3 months

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What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo x you #jjk gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo fluff

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osachiyo · 4 months

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𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐎𝐘, 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 — dazai, chuuya, Fyodor, nikolai, oda

˚➶ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — fem!reader, sfw content, so much fluff, children, nikolai is actually a good father in this i swear, swearing in chuuya's, best viewed in dark mode

˚➶ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — wdym do i have baby fever why would u even ask that? also im begging for some fluffy asks </3 not proofread

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 . . . just some cute little scenarios with daddy!bsd men <3

dazai stared at his 2 month old baby girl sleeping in her crib, drooling on the little pink teddy bear you two had bought for her. it was almost 3 am — the time she'd wake up every single night and start crying for milk, effectively ruining both of your sleep. he knew you were tired, you needed rest — but you couldn't just leave your baby crying all night. that's exactly why he offered to do it for you, waking up exactly at 2:30 am, just to watch his baby sleep — waiting patiently for her to stir awake all while admiring his baby's cuteness.

she's got your nose — he thought while smiling fondly, tracing a slim finger over her chubby little cheeks before gently poking her nose, making a little 'boop!' noise while doing so. she stirred a little from the contact, her face scrunched up all cutely as she slowly woke from her slumber. "morning, sweet girl," dazai whispered, gently picking her up from the crib and cradling her — shushing her little cries. at least she isn't going full crier mode — he thought to himself, relieved that he managed to calm her down.

"let's not wake up your mommy, okay hun?" he muttered, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of her head — a chuckle leaving his lips as he watched her make grabby little hands to the formula filled baby bottle in his hand.

"oh you want this?" he dangled the bottle in front of her eager face — her eyes lighting up as she babbled random words to her daddy, translating to "yes please!"

"sure, baby — buuuut! — you have to give daddy a kiss first," he grinned, moving his awful bed-head out of his face and revealing his cheek to her, ready for a kiss from his tiny princess. and as if she could actually understand him, she placed a kiss on his cheek, though it was mostly her trying to eat his cheek instead, but everyone has to start somewhere, right? at least that's what her father thought.

you slept like a baby that night — but you did find dazai in the baby room in the morning, sound asleep on the carpeted floor with his little bundle of joy in his arms

chuuya knew you needed a break from your mommy duties — like everyone does once in a while. so like the wonderful and caring husband he was, he bought you a ticket to bali — insisting that he would be fine. after all, how hard could taking care of a toddler be?

"fuckin' hell.." chuuya grumbled, gloved fingers through his ginger locks as he clicked his tongue. he was going through some very annoying paperwork that his subordinates apparently couldn't do right — which was so damn frustrating. and he had to keep an eye on his sweet 3 year old daughter, who was playing on the floor, mumbling a random children's song while doing so. chuuya didn't know how in the actual hell you managed to multitask like this — doing all the housework while taking care of the kid? it genuinely impressed him.

"—ak!" his train of throught suddenly got cut off, as he heard his daughter. he looked over at the small child, who was happily waving her doll around. "did you say something, honey?" he questioned, walking over to kneel beside her as he eyed the heap of toys — mayybe you were right, he thought, he did buy her too many toys.

the toddler looked at her daddy, the beaming smile on her chubby face made him want to just scoop her up in his arms and stay like that for hours.

"fak!" she squealed, slamming the poor doll on the floor — as if it were the most exciting word she'd ever heard. chuuya's face went pale — sweat already beading at his temples as he imagined your reaction to your daughter saying the forbidden word.

"nonono don't say that — that's a bad word, sweetheart," chuuya scooped her up before placing her on his lap, as she tilted her head, staring at him in confusion, "..fak?"

"shit — you've got to be kiddin' me.."

"shit?"

"NO — oh god damn it!"

"yes, good girl — put it right there," fyodor pointed at the chess board. the toddler only stared at him in confusion, looking at the chess piece in her stubby hand before looking back at her father. "come on, you can do it," your husband encouraged, never getting impatient.

"i don't think it's possible for a 4 year old to play chess, fedya dear.." you let out a chuckle, taking in the amusing sight of your husband teaching his precious daughter how to play chess. "anything is possible, my love," fyodor replied, trying to stop his daughter from putting the chess piece in her mouth. "riiight... her trying to eat the pieces definitely doesn't help your case, darling," you laughed, rolling your eyes at how silly your beloved could be at times, no matter how many people see him as a genius.

"she's learning," he retaliated, taking the piece away from her before dangling her favourite candy in front of her cute little face — "if you can put this right here, i'll give you the candy, okay? easy enough, right?"

the toddler only pouted, bottom lip jutting out as she whined — "but daddy, you can do it yourself!" fyodor sighed, apparently, she was having trouble understanding why she should do it when he could easily do it himself.

“darling, that’s not the point — the point is that i’m trying to play a game with you and it’s your turn.” the young girl’s frown only deepened, face scrunching up in frustration while she sulked in her seat.

“i think she deserves the candy, don't you, hun?” you smiled, turning over to your daughter — who only nodded in return. “she’ll get her candy after she puts the piece in the correct spot.” your husband clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval at you giving in so easily. “she’s just a child, honey..” you sighed, cheek resting on your palm.

fyodor was about to give another witty reply when you both heard a small sniffle — both of you looking over to the little girl; her lips were wobbling, tears running down her soft cheeks. “oh no no, sweetheart — c’mere,” it’s like he did a total 180, previously annoyed features now softened and evident guilt painting his face. your daughter only seemed to cry harder at that, snot running down her nose as she ran to fyodor, burying her face in his chest. “there, there..” he sighed, frowning at the way her body shook with each hiccup. “told you,” you grumbled, stifling a laugh at seeing fyodor panicking and handing her a good amount of the sweet treats — only for her to stop crying the moment she got what she wanted, a mischievously cute grin gracing her face. like father like daughter — you suppose.

"daddyyyy! — stay still!" the little girl whined, eyebrows furrowing as she combed through nikolai's snowy hair. "you've been brushing my hair for 30 minutes now, princesssss!" he whined back, matching her childish tone. "it needs to be perfect," his precious daughter sighed out loud, acting as if she was stressed — perhaps she learnt that from you, he snickered at the thought.

"alright, alright.." he sighed, straightening his posture — smiling as he felt tiny hands comb through his white locks. at least she's gentle with it — he practically shuddered at the thought of his precious hair being yanked and pulled by a toddler.

"daddy, you need to close your eyes," she huffed, running over to grab her little box of accessories and clips, before returning back to her dad. "whatever the princess wants, i suppose.." he chuckled, closing his eyes — feeling her decorating his hair with whichever accessory she desired. he could never really say no to her.

after a few more moments of waiting, she was finally done — excitedly telling nikolai to open his eyes. "tadaaaa!" she giggled, throwing her arms up in the air as he opened his eyes, a cheshire smile immediately gracing his lips as he stared at his reflection — hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, as various colours of heart shaped clips decorated his head. "you did such a good job, dove!" he grinned, scooping her tiny frame up in his huge arms, as she squealed. he threw her up into the air — making her squeal even louder before easily catching her, both of them howling with laughter.

moments like this makes him glad he didn't leave to get the milk.

"how does your mom even do this every morning.." oda sighed, trying his best to figure out how in the actual hell to do his daughter's hair. and the worst part? he only had 10 minutes until the school bus arrived. hell, he already spent the last 20 minutes brushing and detangling her hair!

"daddy, there's not much time left!" the 7 year old complained — watching her dad struggle with her hair through the mirror. he was debating on whether to call you for help, which he quickly decided against. she's on vacation, she should enjoy it thoroughly without any worry — he thought to himself, clicking his tongue as he messed up what was supposed to be a simple pigtail once again.

"daddy.. there's only two minutes left!" the girl whined once again, kicking her legs as she grew more and more impatient — while her hair situation grew worse and worse. "um, alright sweetheart — how about you just go to school with your hair down?" oda sweat dropped, trying to convince his daughter to the best of his ability.

"you know i can't do thaatt!" she groaned, giving him a pout. "right — well how about —"

the honking of the bus outside cut him off, as the little girl only sighed.

he somehow convinced your daughter to not snitch to you about her going to school with very crooked pigtails. buuut, he did take some hair lessons from you after you came back.

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

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