#ok I’m gonna yap now

[xmagicalpotatox]

genuinely unable to choose which one I’m gonna be SICK!! /silly

Noir @desultory-novice

Rope MF @mint-termsandconditions

The Poll

@kirbyoctournament

Timelapse Under Read More (FLASHING LIGHTS!)

(Song: Virtual Insanity by Jamiroquai)

… (if it plays)

[tetzoro]

good morning and happy fridayayayayyyyy !!!! it’s pretty much the weekend and i’m supa excited (ㅅ´ ˘ `) ! i hope everyone has a good day and you find something that makes ya smile ^_^ 🤍

aren’t they sweet ( ྀི o̴̶̷᷄ o̴̶̷̥᷅ ) . . ෆ

[5hark-byt3]

BOOYAH I DIDN’T RUN OUTTA MOTIVATION AND ACTUALLY FINISHED THIS ON TIME LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO <- guy who just traumatized Eight again for funsies

[zeb-z]

jrwi riptide 100//

Jay wanting to be a pirate just because of the freedom it gives her in this world. No lofty goals or ambitions. That’s what it’s always been about, hasn’t it? Since La Alma, who set sail from Joaldo without a thought of his future, and even before him, it’s been a clear theme. There is freedom in the open seas, there is freedom in having an open future. Not knowing what is next because you get to decide your heading.

And they help others find their freedom as well, as they make their own journey. Whether it’s by helping them fight back against whatever boot is crushing them, or trying to help them and give them resources to continue on their journey, or other such means. They’re the best goddamn pirates because they embrace this freedom, and they use their power to help others find their freedom as well.

[hana-bobo-finch]

[thestars-inheaven]

Don’t get me wrong I’m so happy that Tahereh Mafi is writing James’ books and continuing Shatter me, however, I NEED the fourth This Woven Kingdom, I NEED IT DESPERATELY. like pleaaaaaase Ik shatter me is her favorite BUT SHE LEFT US WITH SUCH A CLIFFHANGER and we didn’t even get an announcement for when to expect the next book, I don’t think I can’t keep living without knowing when we will see Alizeh and Cyrus again.

PLEASE TAHEREH MAFI PLEASE ILL DO ANYTHING

[potato-lord-but-not]

it’s who we are

mhm yeah just wanted to post em all together because look at themmmm I’m gonna yap about this under the cut don’t mind me

having them all lined up is giving real triptych vibes, which honestly opens up a whole new level of symbolism I’m too lazy to explore rn.

And didn’t even realize Oscar and Arthur were basically in the same pose until after I finished them all. LIKE ?? ok what was my subconscious brain on… the position of the star… the little sun in Kayne’s knife in the same spot as the sun in the celestial water in Oscar’s piece.

Arthur having a light silhouette and dark background, and Oscar having a dark silhouette and light background… THE BLOODY ROSARY WITH A MOON ON IT !! ARTHUR COVERED IN BLOOD !!!! THE HALOS IN THE BACKGROUND THAT MATCH JOHN’S SUN !!!!

John holding the moon…. his little star earring… the overwhelming background that the sun entirely envelops…

Here’s a much better analysis for each one @absoluteocellibehavior did bc they go CRAZZYYY— Oscar, Arthur, andd John !!

and also their interpretations of the cards in general <3

ough now I wanna do more characters…. I’m ill

[tetzoro]

tweedledee and tweedledum have fully exhausted me

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑾𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔*

Pairing: Minho x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Fluff (tiny tiny angst)

Warnings: Nothing really? Just mooshy yapping. Minho is just bad with his words. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings

A/N: this came out a little shorter than I wanted but I think it’s still cute.

This Request had prompts from my second prompt list: 17.) “I’m not blushing, I’m just hot” 29.) “That’s not what I said”

-🖤

Hand in hand walking down the side walk with your boyfriend. He stopped at your favorite ice cram place on your walk trying to find a nice place to sit. You both talked as you ate your ice cream, you could see he had something on his mind though. You didn’t wanna pry at least not yet. As the night air started to get colder and it started to get later as you kept talking.

You loved these nights, the nights he was all yours where you could spend time with him. These nights were those from movies where it just felt like the two of you. “Y/n you know I like you a lot right?” He said softly braking the calm silence.

“Yeah” you said with a little giggle.

“Well I- I-“ he stuttered out he wouldn’t look at you making you feel your heart drop a small bit. Oh. Oh no.. was he about to dump you? Did he bring you out here to break up with you?

“I just- uugh I don’t know how to say this” he said getting up he paced a small bit still not looking at you. He was frustrated, he wasn’t the best at words and especially right now when they weren’t coming out properly. He had this all planned out words he kept repeating so he wouldn’t get it wrong. And here he was. Messing it up.

“Y/n I don’t like you” he blurted out his words making his eyes go wide. What? He literally just said he liked you? What was happening? You felt your heart just shatter, hanging your head down feeling the tears prick at your eyes.

“Just do it, break up with me, just get it over with” you stuttered out as the tears started to fall.

He was frantic, he sat down below you trying to calm you down. “That’s not what I said- I mean I did say that but I didn’t mean it like that-“ he babbled out. All the words that were floating around his head but none could come out properly, nothing would come out.

“What else could you mean minho? You said it- you don’t like me” you said trying to wipe your eyes choking back anymore tears. You got up quickly trying to walk away before he grabbed ahold of you. Pulling you to his chest wrapping his arms around you. He held onto you tightly feeling like you were floating away from him. Seeing you cry his heart was breaking from his own bad choice of words.

“No no no please wait I didn’t mean it like that, y/n I fuck y/n I love you- I don’t like you I love you-“ he choked out feeling like he was gonna cry himself. “I’m sorry I- I’m so bad at this I’ve-“ he started.

You smacked his arm “you need to work on your choice of words asshole” you said with a frown.

“I know I know I’m sorry, I just- I wanted to make it perfect I had a whole thing I wanted to say and try and be cute and I fucked it up. Please I’m sorry for making you cry” his words coming out fast and mumbled.

He clung onto you holding you tightly “I just really love you” he breathed out. “I’ve never felt like I could say those words to anyone besides friend and family but you came and- y/n I love you I’m sorry I’m dumb” he said looking up at you with a small tear falling.

“I love you too dummy” you said softly wiping his tear away his head leaning into your touch.

“I’m sorry for messing-“ he started to say before you cut him off.

“Stop apologizing it’s ok, I know it’s hard for you to get your words out especially for something like this” you said sweetly. Thumb rubbing against his cheek your eyes looking at him fondly. “Something I love about you is I know when you finally get the words out is that I know you thought about them carefully, trying to get it perfect”

“So you really love me too?” He said softly.

“Minho, I’ve wanted to say it for so long, yes. I love you. I love you so much. You make me so happy” you say with a warm smile. Seeing you smile made his aching heart melt now. He loved that smile.

His face starts heating up turning all shades of red and pink. You’ve never seen him blush so much and you couldn’t help but giggle “ooh I got you all blushy, look at how red you are” you teased.

“I’m not- I’m not blushing- it’s just really hot out here” he said pouting a bit.

“Min it’s cold out here nice try” you said with another giggle.

“I take back what I said you’re a bully” he said still pouting.

“Nope, Minho loves me! You can’t take it back.” You teased more.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck holding onto you somehow even tighter. “I couldn’t take it back even if I tried, I love you.. I love you a lot y/n so much it scares me” he admit.

“Well don’t be scared cause I feel the same way, and you’re not getting rid of me that easy” you said kissing his head.

“Good” he said softly.

“Now let’s go get another ice cream?” You said making him laugh.

“Fine, I guess you deserve another one after I made you cry”

“Definitely and I think I deserve a kiss too”

He smiled leaning up to kiss you lovingly. “Mm even sweeter than the ice cream” you said with almost heart eyes. His face turning that same reddish again.

God did he love you, he loved everything about you. He’d make it up to you, think of the perfect date to ‘retry’. He needed to make it perfect to show you how much he loved you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan n @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[sashi-ya]

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝙳𝚛. 𝙸𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚄𝚛𝚢𝚞 uryu's birthday drabble ⋆ mdni nsfw +18 ⋆ semi public, oral

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ happy birthday, Ishida-kun! 𓂃⋆.˚

The rug material sucks; why does this thing have to be here? it carves into your knees; it’s starting to itch. Ah, but the sweet caress on your head coming from Dr. Ishida’s hand makes it everything better.

You shouldn’t make much noise; in fact, you shouldn’t be hiding underneath his desk… why the hell these doctors had to visit his office right now?

His hardness is noticeable, it protrudes from his pants. Your hand slides up, slowly, in complete silence. You shouldn’t do this, or else you are gonna make Dr. Uryuu blush.

But you can’t help it; you went there with a single purpose… celebrate the Dr’s birthday. And nothing, nor nobody will stop you from doing so. If he got “very busy” enough to go back home later than expected, then his surprise must be received in here.

You nuzzle on his thigh, inhaling the scent of his neat trousers. Everything so clean, so perfectly ironed… fabric you wish to stain, to shrivel, to ruin. A kiss on his leg, only makes his pants tent bigger… “Ah, are you getting excited Dr. Ishida?”

Uryuu starts bouncing his leg, as he fights to stay serious while a bunch of med interns yap about the cases they’ve been assigned. His hand, that hangs down the desk, tries to sign you to stop in a desperate attempt for you not to continue with the following step of this sexual torture; reaching his sex, that’s been almost freed, as you were lowering his zipper right before they arrived.

Wet, completely dampened in precum, is how you found his boxer briefs. Poor man, what have he done to suffer this faith?! “Let me fix it for you, Dr. Ishida…”

“Very well; that should do for the day, why don’t you all take some time off? Patients have been all -ngh-. Excuse me…” Uryu gets interrupted by your lips finally surrounding his sex; he tries to cover it up with a cough but there is no way he could cover the blush on his usually pale cheeks.

“Are you ok, Dr. Ishida?” an intern, who happens to be one of those annoying females that surrounds your man on a daily basis, asks. She decides to stay, even if the rest have already left the office.

You focus your tongue on his tip; “tell her how good you are feeling, Ishida-kun, come on!”

“AH- yes. Sorry! I’m just tired!” Uryu excuses himself once more, fixing his glasses, getting closer to his desk, trying to normalize his breathing.

“Oh! Can I do something for you, Dr. Ishida?” she insists, and you suck harder. Adding now your hand around his shaft.

Uryuu takes a deep breath; he knows this could go two possible ways, one he resists or cums right in front of a subordinate. The you stopping doesn’t enter the equation, in fact is the only thing that won’t change but rather increase…

“No, I am married man” he finally snaps, feeling the smirk on your lips forming around his dick.

“I- no- I’m sorry…” the girl whispers, leaving soon the office. Uryuu finally looks down; you are enjoying this more than anyone else perhaps.

“Stop. Stand Up. Turn around” he commands, hitting the desk. And you know he will finish the job you started.

“Yes, Dr. Ishida. Claim your birthday gift ~” you obey.

[knizuu]

Insert myself being feral for my fandoms/silly

Below is just me yapping about them all dksjnvkfnrg-💞

LOOK AT EMM!!!! Lmao I keep referring to “Past, Present, and Future” because GxK already came out, S3 should be out this year, and DM is next year :3 !! +THE BLUE TRIO [Godzilla had blue as radioactive energy beforehand-I just wanted a more fitting picture, therefore, using the powerful goji right there :D]

THEN THE ORANGES…that I originally labeled as the children cough idk why all of them are orange coded but THE MORE SIMILARITIES THE BETTER [Since Lil Petey hasn’t been apparent in the movie so far, the best I have is the image he has in the DM art book ^ ^]

Pfft…ok so I was gonna say “Kong and Knuckles at some point believed they were the last of their kind ALONG with having that warrior aspect…and Knuckles ties with Sarah purely from their red hair complexion✨/silly” but they’re all important side characters that were introduced really closely with the main!

Then the character that [as I remember] have a longer relationship or at least been established a strong dynamic with the main boyo? XP either way, I see them to be an over-looker for the main character :> [Lmao the way I wanted a better image for Tom but IT WAS THE BEST I COULD GEt without using other movies of course :3]

hehe THE SCENE WHERE THE INITIAL ANTAGONIST SHOWS OFF THEIR ✨very rad✨ EYES [Now that I notice more, Skar has blue eyes-Shadow has red-and Petey has green…RGB JUMPSCARE/silly]

-

Overall I’m so excited to see my three fandoms have their movie trailers :D !!! <33

[ennabear]

vampire!ellie

synopsis: you met ellie in your university’s ancient library, you were just trying to study and ellie couldn’t help but talk to you. it drove her crazy, the scent of your blood. usually, she didn’t even notice the scent on others. she was so used to it that it didn’t bother her anymore. but you were different, sweeter.

cw: kinda like a mix between tlou and twilight, mentions of witchcraft and hanging, vampire!abby being a ladykiller literally, papa vampire!joel, mama vampire!tess, newlyweds vampire!jesse and dina, dina’s transformation, lotsssss of backstory like i seriously couldn’t stop myself from yapping. not proofread sorry :((((((

a/n: i’m definitely gonna make a series out of this. sorry if this is wayyy too long but i have a special place in my heart for vamp!ellie and her sweet vampire family. ok that’s all ily thanks for reading.

wc: 2.2k

you shouldn’t be walking alone at night, really. campus was a sketchy place. a plethora of bad things could happen. you could get kidnapped, jumped, pickpocketed, or, hell, even bitten by a vampire.

the library had the same scent it always did. it smelled like dust and paper. in all honesty, you didn’t prefer it here. although it was beautiful, tall windows lined with stained glass, large bookshelves with every book you’d ever want, every word you could imagine and more, it was just so eerie. something bad was bound to happen here.

anyways, you settled down at the table in the corner. the one farthest away from anyone else. you’d rather be at home right now, studying in bed. it’s only because your roommate invited her stupid boyfriend over that you ended up here. it’s for the better anyway, though, because in bed you wouldn’t get anything done. you’d be too distracted.

you had your priorities written on your palm, the pen now smudged, making it barely readable. writing on your palm was easier, more convenient than a post-it note. but you wrote it down on paper anyways, incase you sweated more of it off before you finished. it wasn’t likely you would, though. the library was freezing, especially in the winter.

the clack of your fingers typing in your laptop password was the only thing to be heard. everyone else was dead silent. this was probably the only thing you liked about the library, everybody agreed on an unspoken rule, make the least amount of noise possible. you got started with completing your essay after shuffling your playlist, determined to finish by the end of the night.

that’s when she saw you.

or, smelled you? your scent was so strong, it hit ellie hard. her vision went dark and splotchy, and she had to grip onto the table for support. her pearly white hands making a dent in the table with how hard she was holding.

you had to be her next meal. she had to find some way to get you alone and suck your veins dry. it scared her, the thoughts she was having. her intentions weren’t to murder you, but she was starving now. you had unknowingly gotten her high on your scent.

she didn’t even know where you were. were you outside? down the hall? in the library? fuck, right next to her? her head was hurting now, really, really badly. but she needed you even worse.

picking up a random book, she used the most brainpower she could to sniff you out. then, she really saw you. headphones in your ears, your hands typing away at something that won’t even matter soon. soon, she’ll have your body in her arms, hopefully in the comfort of her own home. your neck dripping a puddle on the floor as she relentlessly drank from you, your skin growing cold and your lips turning purple.

her docs made silent footsteps across the floor as she walked toward you. this was something ellie learned to master, silence. especially when she went into hunting mode. nobody looked at her as she expertly dodged the creaks in the old wooden floor. nobody saw her coming. especially you. you never saw ellie williams coming.

“hey, is it okay if i sit here?”

“….sorry, what was that?” you scrambled to pause your music.

“can i sit here?”

“oh. yeah, sure. go ahead.”

you went back to typing, not continuing your music incase she wanted to talk. you really hoped she didn’t. you needed to finish your essay. and you weren’t much of a people person either.

“what are you writing?” she asked.

“just an essay, nothing interesting.”

“oh, cool.”

she started reading the book she picked up before sniffing you out. she didn’t bother to look at the title. or read any of the words either. really, she was just staring at it, her mind racing. she needed to come up with something interesting, something to make you like her.

while she stared at the words, you couldn’t help but stare at her. your fingers came to a complete stop as you admired this stranger across from you. she didn’t even introduce herself, how strange. her hair was a dark brown, her eyes black. her face was incredibly smooth. skin paler than ever, she looked as if she was a marble statue, like she belonged in a museum.

and she was reading twilight, of all books. although, you liked the book, it seemed ironic for her, like she was too mature for it. this beautiful stranger was sitting across from you, her eyebrows pulled together in frustration while she chewed on the inside of her cheek. she seemed furious at something, but at the same time, hard to read.

you were almost scared of her, but intrigued above all else.

“do you like that book?” you asked.

“twilight? yeah. it’s okay. i’ve read it a few times.”

“hmm. it’s a classic.”

“it’s not bad. but i’ve read a lot of books. this one doesn’t come close to the others.”

“so you read a lot? how come i’ve never seen you before?”

“i’m usually hiding. i don’t prefer to engage with others if i can help it.”

“yeah, that explains it.”

she got lucky. thank god, if there even is one, that she grabbed a book you knew about. that you started a conversation with her. she thought it was the most stupid book on earth. it was filth, pure mormon fanfiction. and it was completely wrong.

“why are you here so late? it’s almost midnight.” you asked.

“i could ask you the same question.” she responded.

“i have a lot of work i’ve been procrastinating on. if i could choose, i’d be at home. but my roommate’s boyfriend is there and i can’t stand being in the same building as them.”

“i don’t really know why i’m here. i just like to meet new people i guess.”

“i thought you didn’t like talking to people.”

“that’s different. you’re different.”

“how so? you don’t know who i am, and i don’t even know your name.”

she stared at you blankly. you had her trapped. she suddenly realized that maybe you were harder to get than she expected. maybe you wanted to play this game.

“i’m ellie. it’s short for elizabeth but i hate that name. it’s too common, i’m sick of hearing it.”

“elizabeth is beautiful.”

“thanks. you sound like my parents.”

lie. she didn’t know her parents anymore. they had abandoned her hundreds of years ago after suspecting she was a witch because she refused to get married to a man at only seventeen. after a few years, she was hung.

it wasn’t until her new father, joel, took up an investigation of what happened to poor elizabeth. he ended up traveling to their old village and finding her grave after tracing her obituary back to a newspaper published in 1579.

shed been dead for years. joel was the one who brought her back to life. he injected his venom into her long rotten arms and took her in for the seven years it took for her to come back fully. he saved her. he taught her how to walk, how to speak, how to hunt. joel miller was her new father.

joel used to be a police officer. in 1712, he ran into a poor woman, bleeding and begging for his help. claiming that her husband had turned to satan and was now possessed. the woman had been bitten, she eventually would turn into ellie’s mother, tess. joel got bitten too. all three of them spent the next years as newborns in that small cabin, feasting on whoever was unfortunate enough to wander by.

the woman’s husband didn’t survive. he was caught by a clan of christians and burned alive, leaving just joel and tess, who couldn’t help but fall in love. they adopted more kids before and after ellie too.

abigail was the first. she was living alone in the appalachian mountains, feasting on whoever wandered after sundown. leading poor girls, desperate for a good time, into her bed and then eating them whole. abigail often hung out at lesbian bars. the girls who went home with her never came back. a bartender joked with her about this once, the bartender didn’t come back, either.

joel heard about abigail through the only other coven that lived in washington. they said she was a monster, a relentless murderer trapped in a goddesses body. that she could hold the whole world on her shoulders but couldn’t refrain from eating innocent girls who were cheating on their husbands.

abby and ellie were never really good friends, but they tried. abby preferred to keep to herself. usually either reading or climbing a mountain with her bare hands. and she refused to find a long-term lover. ellie was almost the opposite. she preferred more modern things, like making music and fast cars. and she loved to flirt with girls.

jesse came after ellie. he was born more recently, in 1878. he was dying of a disease nobody knew about. they didn’t have the right knowledge or technology to save him, so they quarantined him in a hospital room until he died. he didn’t, though. joel saved his life. the hospital staff were horrified after seeing the blood stained floor, the splatters over the walls, and more importantly, the fact that jesse’s body was nowhere to be found.

jesse had a wife now, named dina. she met him in 1983 at a prestigious fashion school. jesse had already been to tons of colleges. neither of them aged. they never changed. they were all trapped. after studying medicine, law, physics, engineering, and marketing, he wanted a change.

that’s when he met dina. she was a beautiful woman, deep tan skin, dark eyes, long black hair and eyelashes. and she had such a knack for fashion. jesse was in love, it took him a long while before he came clean to dina about who he was. she was so in love with him too, she didn’t mind it, and she certainly wasn’t scared. dina was never scared of anything.

so they got married. and the night after their wedding, they flew to a private island joel owned for their “honeymoon”. aka, dina’s transformation. they were gone for almost three years. jesse kept a journal of everything that happened to her.

july 12, 1989. i did it. i held her so gently in my arms and sank my teeth into her neck. she was screaming, i know she was in pain, but she’ll never admit it. before she fell asleep, i drank a few of her tears and then closed her eyes. she’ll be twenty six for the rest of her life, until the earth stops spinning. i hope she can forgive me.

december 31, 1989. joel, i got your letter. she’s been doing okay. i can’t stop looking at her, her perfect curves and her deep brown hair. i think it was for the better that i took her dress off before we started, she designed it, it was so beautiful. i know she’d get upset about the red staining the expensive white satin. it’s still here, waiting for her. the year is about to end, we still have quite a few months until she awakes. i’m scared. not of her, of myself. am i a murderer? did i, a cold-blooded demon, destroy a perfect, innocent life? will she remember me?

august 27, 1990. it’s been over a year. nothing, but i know it’s coming. i’ve been holding her head on my lap, stroking her hair. i haven’t moved from this position in three months. she is so beautiful. i redressed her in the outfit she designed for this occasion, it suits her well. a part of me regrets this decision. i wish i could grow old with her, maybe have kids someday. sit on the porch while or grandchildren play in the yard. her eyes wrinkling with the smile she always flashes me. this will never happen. it’s just a dream.

november 16, 1990. she is awake. so much screaming. she’s in pain. won’t even look at me. she is thirsty. will bring her some bird blood to quench her thirst.

november 21, 1990. she only sits and stares at a wall, rocking back and forth. her eyes are white now. don’t know if she is okay. or if she will survive. her throat burns. if she goes, i go.

february, 1991. don’t know what day it is, she has calmed down. she didn’t remember anything at first. not me, not her name, nothing. she remembers now, though. hopefully we can come home this year. i still don’t know if i trust her enough around people. if she is caught, she’ll be burned. if she goes, i go.

may 18, 1991. traveled to a near by island. i taught her how to swim, she loves it. she’s so surprised that she can hold her breath infinitely. she is so beautiful, it’s like falling in love with her all over again. there were people at the island, it was a small village. they were kind, but we had to leave early. i don’t want to push her limits, but she did exceptionally well.

october 4, 1991. on our way home. starting this life forever with her. i hope she can forgive me.

[mikkomacko]

Thank u for doing requests ! What about giiving kisses on mob boss Nico’s scars (if any)?🥹🥹

This is so sweet oh my god I’m gonna cry. (This also somehow turned into a smut scene at the end so happy first smut scene of mob boss Nico!)

Thank you so much for requesting! I hope I did it justice!

————————————————————————-

It wasn’t a big dead, not really. Just an off-handed remark Jack had made after Nico chirped him for getting a bad haircut.

“You should spend more time worrying about that lip of yours than my haircut.” He’d yapped, motioning to the recently split lip Nico had gotten. “Eventually your girl’s not gonna wanna kiss it better.”

It had healed just fine and yeah for a bit there you’d avoided the raw wound, but now that it’s just a sliver of a scar it’s fine, right?

Nico can’t help it. He’s picking at it, smears of shaving cream still splattered across his jaw and cheeks. He picks at it until the skin of his lip is red and raw, and it hurts so badly he has to stop.

In a frantic spiral he’s suddenly spotting all the little marks on his face. Every scar left over from teenage acne to fist fights to hitting his head on the coffee table as a child, Nico feels manic as he takes them all in.

Maybe he shouldn’t have shaved. Maybe he should’ve let his beard grow out, creep up his cheeks and down his neck to hide all the ugly marks.

Down and down and down the rabbit hole he goes. Wiping the shaving cream off with a towel, Nico spots the ugly mark on his collar bone from where he’d been nicked with a knife. The one on his abdomen from where he’d been kicked with steel toe boots.

Something ugly and ashamed rises in his chest, threatens to choke him. He scrambles out of the bathroom, haphazardly shutting off the light as he rushes to the closet. In his haste to cover himself he misses you already lying in bed. It’s not until he’s yanked on a hoodie and sweatpants, finally able to breathe easy, does he notice you watching him with bewilderment.

“You ok boss?” You ask him, slightly amused.

Nico runs a hand through his hair, feels like throwing up. What if you saw all of them? Like really saw them? Sat in front of him and saw all those ugly spots at once, all his ugly spots?

“Fine,” he mumbles, climbing into his side of bed. He feels stiff and awkward, ignoring your gaze as he reaches to shut off the bedside lamp.

You make a confused noise in the dark and Nico blinks until his eyes adjust. Then he’s lying back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers ache to reach for you, to touch your skin. But he’s terrified of you touching his skin and suddenly deciding you don’t want to anymore.

Stupid fucking Jack and his big mouth.

The sheets shuffle, the mattress moving with your weight. “Nico?” A hand pats down the duvet, then slithers across the blanket until it’s resting over his chest.

“Hm?”

“Baby you’re on the edge of the bed.”

“M’just hot.”

“Maybe it’s the winter clothes you just put on?”

Nico hesitates, scrambles for an excuse. “Not feeling well either. Don’t want to get you sick.”

“You ate three plates of pasta, Schoa. I don’t think that’s contagious.”

Clearing his throat, Nico pathetically shrugs. Something’s welled up in his esophagus, is choking him and he wants you to reach over and make it better.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong or am I gonna have to piss you off first?”

He closes his eyes, feels the weight of your hand on him. That feeling chokes him again, makes him panic until he’s spiting out his worst fears to you.

“Do you still want to kiss me?”

Nico expects you to laugh, to kick at his leg and tell him he’s being ridiculous. But he thinks the pathetic whimper of his words has given away how dire this topic is to him.

“Oh baby,” you breathe out, “I want to kiss you all the time.” You sound sincere, like you’re thinking about kissing him right now. It makes his face hot, embarrassed and insecure for some reason.

His silence is thick, hanging in the air so heavily you have to sit up in bed and crawl over him. Nico can’t help it, his hands moving on their own to find your hips as you push the blankets back and straddle his thighs.

“Nothing could ever make me not want you.” You whisper. In the dark he finds your eyes, the moonlight coming through the window gleaming in them. They look shiny and blurry, warped by the night- no by him. Because he’s got tears in his waterline.

“You didn’t want to kiss my lip,” he mumbles like a child, “when it was hurt.”

You stroke through his hair, press your palm to his cheek. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you, not because I didn’t want to kiss you.”

“What if next time it’s worse? What if the cut is bigger and then the scar is and it doesn’t get better?”

“What-Nico where is this coming from? Did something happen?”

He’s silent, embarrassed again. “Jack said if my scars get any worse you won’t want to kiss them better anymore.”

“Oh Nico baby,” you huff in disbelief. “Have you ever noticed that Jack doesn’t even have someone to kiss his scars better? Who does he think he is?”

You’re right, but he doesn’t feel better. So he just shrugs, makes some weird noise of protest in his chest because he’s scared and hurt.

“Can I please turn the light on?”

Nico leans into your palm, heart thumping loudly in his chest but he mutters his consent. The lamp flicks on and at first he’s blinded. But then you come into view, one of his shirts on your shoulders and you’re pretty hair frizzy on top of your head.

You look so beautiful over him.

“Oh my god, what has Jack done to you?” You ask softly, stroking your thumb under his droopy eyes that are still wet with unshed tears.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles.

Your fingers trace his face, over the soft skin of his freshly shaved cheeks and the slope of his nose. Your thumb outlines his lips, your eyes following its movement with such adoration in them it makes his heart ache.

“You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” you say with earnest, stroking the scar on his lip. “No cut or bruise or scar is ever going to change that.”

“Yeah?”

You lean down, ghost your lips over his. “Yeah Nico,” you promise, sealing it with a kiss. He runs his hands up your back, holds you as you trail kisses over the little marks of his face.

Nimble fingers dip beneath his hoodie, touch the warm skin of his stomach. “Can I take this off my love?”

Sluggish, Nico nods. He sits up enough to help you wiggle it off of him, falling back into the pillows as you throw the hoodie to the side.

You sit back, admiring the skin of his chest and abs with your hands and lidded eyes. “All I see when I look at you, is the brave and strong man that I love.”

Sliding down his body, you mouth at his collarbone with soft and needy lips. Nico sighs contently, lets your breath tickle his skin and grows warm at the way you touch him so sweetly.

Sometimes he wonders how you can treat him so softly, how you can take him in those soft hands and turn him into a puddle.

“Baby,” he whines, unsure of what he’s even calling for. All he knows is that he loves you and you’re making him feel so good.

“Let me love on you,” you request, word pressing into the column of his throat. “Let me show you how beautiful and sexy you are Nico.”

He tangles his fingers in your hair, shudders as pleasure nips at his belly and blood rushes to his cock.

“Fuck, yes, please.”

You’re slow and diligent, finding any and every place on him that is marred or changed and showering it in kisses and loving touches. He’s sweating and panting when you get to the edge of his pants, peeling the band down to reveal more and more of the scar there.

“This one’s my favorite,” you say so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you.

“Huh?”

He lifts his head, brain foggy with lust. You peer up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking sultry over the planes of his body. Lips hovering over the mark that trails down the v of his hips and the top of his thigh.

“My favorite,” you mumble into his skin, kissing at the point of his hip. Then you’re pulling his sweats down even more, innocent eyes watching him hiss when his cock jumps free, red and hard against his abdomen.

“Why?”

Your lips curl up, wicked as you bite into the inside of his thigh just enough to make him twitch. “Because I get to see it every time I’m down here.”

Nico’s brain short circuits, shuts down when you bite into his skin again and it feels so good he might come untouched. He doesn’t want to though, not that he needs to tell you that.

You nose at his cock, mouth wet and hot against the base of him and his bones turn to jelly. He falls back into the mattress, widening his legs for you to get closer.

Grounding himself with fingers in your hair, Nico whimpers when you drag the flat of your tongue up his length, gentle fingers wrapping around his girth.

“Baby,” Nico whines again, and you’re already kissing at the thick head of his cock, all teasing flicks of the tongue and lips sticky with precum.

“I know pretty boy,” you assure, sweet and loving. Nico moans, ears growing hot at the pet name. “So pretty, from those big eyes of yours all the way down to your pretty cock, huh?”

His hips buck up, eyes rolling back and he twitches in your hand. Jesus Christ, now he knows why you love when he talks you through sex. The rawness of your words, the truth in your tone, how utterly sweet you sound saying such filthy things.

“Make me cum,” he begs, tugging on your hair encouragingly. “Please just -fuck!”

You swallow him down easy, fitting his cock into your warm mouth just how he taught you. Like it’s habit now, to have his cock dripping into the back of your throat while your tongue licks at the underside of him.

Nico’s so worked up and sensitive he’s already throbbing and threatening to blow his load. That fire licks at the base of his spine, curls his toes and has him blubbering nonsense. You bob your head, drooling down his length and cupping his balls in your palm.

You’re so soft and warm, so loving in everything you do. Nico thinks it might kill him one day, how much you love him. But that would be a hell of a way to go.

His cock throbs, twitching in the hollow of your cheeks and you stroke a free hand over that favorite scar of yours. That’s at it takes and he’s seeing stars, coming so hard on your tongue it twists painfully at the pit of his stomach.

Dropping his hands from you, heavy like his bones are made of lead, Nico fights to catch his breath. Your merciful on him, easy and gentle as you kiss your way back up his torso and to his mouth.

Nico doesn’t peel his eyes open until you’re messily mouthing at his parted lips. Your tongue tastes like him, breath hot and he groans into your mouth as he kisses you back.

“I lied,” you pant when you part from the kiss. “This one’s my favorite actually,” and your pecking a kiss to the scar on his lips.

“Baby you just sucked the soul out of me,” Nico croaks, wrapping his arms around you and pinning you into his sweaty chest. “I can’t take anymore compliments.”

You giggle, touching your nose to his. “It’s the truth this time, I love that one. It’s the first thing I see every morning, the first thing I see after you kiss me.”

Nico hums, smacks a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Yeah? Do you think that’s pretty too?” He goads, smirking when you blush and roll your eyes. “Pretty like my cock? Or pretty like my eyes?”

Laughing, you wiggle in his hold to try and get away. “Oh shut up!”

“Noooo keep telling me how pretty I am, boss please?”

[literaila]

Ok first off, hi!! Big atf fan here, heard you're probably gonna deactivate, I hope you get the rest you deserve, second off, I really need to yap about this because I've been thinking about it a lot.

So we know how gojo knew that even if he was the strongest, he could die, right? With all the extra plans and the letters and what not, so I was just like what if this was atf canon, and after gojo got unsealed, during the training, he talks to reader about this, how would she react? Would she be upset and cut him off telling him not to go even though she knew how important it was and that he'd still do it, or accept it and support him?

“hey, asshole!”

yuta turns around first, his eyes already wide, face nervous—not that he’s scared of you, really… just, you know, everything (and maki. he’s really scared of maki).

but yuta relaxes as soon as he realizes it’s you. and then, at the sight of yuji running along after you, sullen look on his usually sunshine-y face, yuta pales once more.

there’s only one person here who might be the asshole.

gojo grins. “gakuganji went to get tea,” he says, so easily, head tilting back. “you just missed him.”

but you’re not smiling.

yuji is almost breathless next to you, trying to warn gojo with a hand gesture and eyes pleading at yuta to make it stop—but yuta has always been a bit bewildered by gojo-sensei, and even more bewildered by your relationship with him.

so he just shrugs helplessly at itadori and the boy hangs his head in response.

not that you or gojo are paying attention to that, obviously. not even a little bit.

arms crossed, face unamused, you say, “i was talking about you, satoru.”

“i missed you,” gojo says, in response, patting the spot next to him on the stairs. “how was sparring?”

your jaw tenses and you turn towards yuji, then give a terse smile to yuta. “could i talk to gojo for a bit, boys?”

yuji sighs, shaking his head emphatically at everyone, but yuta is quick to bow, grabbing on to itadori’s sleeve. “of course,” he tugs. “have a good lunch.”

and then he’s pulling yuji along—which is difficult, mind you, because the boy is strong enough to lift entire cars.

“she’s going to—“ yuji starts to protest, turning back, but yuta ignores him. as the elder, it’s his job to save his underclassman from being potentially harmed.

even from stressed, mildly-exhausted teachers.

and then it’s just you and gojo—kind of like it’s always been.

satoru is smiling at you, like he does. but it’s dimmer, somehow. the batteries are dying, the lights have flickered away. his smile is waning with each passing day and, you think, you might be the only one who’s noticed.

or maybe that’s not it. maybe his smile is just too bright—too exuberant for right now, too much. like another one of those lies.

either way, you hate it. you hate it, and you hate him and everything that his face represents. you hate every goddamn thing in the world recently—but you might hate him the most.

just for still being there. just for smiling.

“stand up,” you tell him, and you’ve never felt like punching him in the face more.

“we were working, you know?” satoru asks, carelessly, looking away. “yuta is still being sloppy with his cursed energy. so different from yuji—it’s kind of funny. and who’s this gojo person you mentioned, anyway? because i don’t think—“

“stand up, satoru.”

he blinks, mouth pursing for a moment.

it’s true enough that you’re busy, these days—busier than maybe you’ve ever been—but you’re not busy enough to ignore this, or him, and he’s never been busy enough to let you.

finally, satoru sighs, sitting up, hands on his thighs as he leans forward, and eyes drifting to yours as he stands up.

it’s the first time you’ve been face to face with him in days, you realize. there’s just been so much happening, so many things to plan and think about.

you’ve always been better at the worrying than he has, anyway.

“okay,” he whispers, softly, but arrogant. “i’m up. did you want a kiss?”

you take a step towards him. and then, with all your pent up anger and shadowing, all of the thoughts you’ve kept hidden for weeks, you push him back once again.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you hiss, wishing for everything that he wasn’t so strong.

if he wasn’t strong you wouldn’t even be here.

“ouch, sweetheart,” satoru is still smiling, even with a hand to his chest. his balance is easily found, he moved barely an inch. “you’re not supposed to push your husband around, you know—“

“yuji told me what you said.”

satoru pauses, brows furrowing for a moment. but he relaxes, face easy, breath simple. “about how pretty you are?”

you dig your nails into your palms just so you don’t hit him. you had so many conversations with megumi about not resorting to violence and look at you now—

“quit playing dumb,” you tell him, voice hard, eyes hurt. “you know what i’m talking about.”

“yuji talks a lot,” satoru says, smile finally dwindling. “he might’ve mistaken me for someone else. it happens.”

“you told him to forget you. if anything happens.”

“…oh. yeah, that.”

you laugh, taking a step backwards. “what is wrong with you?”

“that wasn’t anything important, i was just telling yuji so that he wouldn’t worry about—“

“what? you?” you ask him, scowling. “so that you giving up sounds less important?”

satoru’s face goes blank. “giving up? i’m not—“

“you told him to forget you, gojo. forget you?” you might be yelling—it’s unclear.

the world is so foggy now. the world is so tilted, so wrong in so many ways but you never thought that satoru was a problem, that he would be another issue for you to deal with—

“i didn’t mean it literally,” satoru tells you, like it’s obvious. “i meant forget about my strength. so that he can come up with his own—“

“i know what you meant,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “and i also know that you’re being a coward.”

satoru stops, flinching back. “what?”

“you’re giving in. you think that you might lose—that’s why you said it. that’s why you told yuji, and not me, and not yuta—because yuji is the closest to sukuna, because yuji will do what you ask even if it hurts—“

“i’m not giving up—“

“yes you are! this is what you do—you try to take care of it on your own, but you always have a back up plan, you always have a doubt that you’re not going to make it and so you try to fix it before it happens—“

“i don’t always—“

“—that’s why you started teaching these kids! so you could create your own replacement—“

“i was trying to reassure him. i want yuji to grow. i want him to be the strongest—that’s what i’ve always wanted.”

you scoff, breathing shakily. “it’s always about being strong, isn’t it? that’s why you’re going to do this? thats what you think?”

“of course it’s about strength, what else—“

“how many times have i told you that you’re more than that? how many times have i showed you?”

satoru’s mouth snaps shut.

you’ve been angry at him in the past decade. you’ve shouted at him in the kitchen and walked right out of the door.

you’ve let satoru go before—but you’ve never felt like you were going to lose him until now.

“y/n…” he says, softer now, taking a step forward.

it’s never just about him. it’s about you—it’s about everything else.

can you take losing someone else, too?

you shake your head, stepping back. “i’ve told you a thousand times. we’ve talked about this,” you swallow, tears welling in your eyes. “you’re human, satoru, you know that.”

his hand is reached out towards you but no one moves. “i have an obligation. its—it’s my responsibility to fight him, to take care of them—“

“you’ll die if you can’t beat him.”

he blinks. “i can beat him.”

“no,” you look up, blinking so you don’t cry, yelling so you don’t fall apart. “you can kill him, but you’ll die first—if you can’t beat sukuna. if—if you can’t save—“ you stop.

so many people have avoided saying his name and now you can’t, too. you can’t.

satoru steps forward, and his hands are gentle as they caress your face, as every bit of him pleads with you not to be angry—not to worry.

but this time he has no joke to distract you. he has no stories, no comforting words. satoru might be the strongest, but he has no idea what’s going to happen.

you close your eyes, body shaking as you let out a breath—a gasp, maybe. “you can’t give up, satoru.”

“i’m not. i won’t.”

“megumi—what about—“ you shake your head. “he’s—“

but satoru moves again, wrapping his hands around your shoulders, holding you to his chest until you can feel him shaking too—until you’ve reached past limitless and you’ve learned far more than six eyes ever could.

“it’s okay,” he whispers, even though it’s not. “i’ve got you.”

and the two of you stand there—in each others arms—for far longer than necessary.

the crying doesn’t stop, the ache in your chest prevails, and you still know that you haven’t taught satoru anything.

you still know that he sees himself as more than human, as a god that you’ve feared since you were seventeen.

but there’s nothing you can do now. no arguing to fix it, no children to teach better.

just you and the chosen one.

the same one who’s already decided that he’s worth less than grief, worth more than victory.

“i’m sorry i called you a coward,” you whisper, eventually, voice soft and broken. you’re not really sorry, but that’s okay.

“i know.”

“you’re not a coward.”

satoru snorts. he might be smiling again, but it’ll never been the same. “i know that, too.”

your head hurts now, and you’re supposed to be working with yuji, supposed to be teaching the kids while you still have time—but you stand there.

and you whisper it softly. “i know i’ve never been your goal, satoru,” you tell him, playing with the ends of his hair, remembering nights in bed where you dreamt of this very thing—of losing him for good. “but i wish i could be your reward. you’ve already done enough. you’ve already saved me, and tsumiki, and megumi,” your voice cracks. “that’s enough.”

it’ll never be enough, his voice echoes back.

but satoru just kisses the top of your head. it feels like a lie now. “c’mon,” he murmurs, no bravado, no smile. “you’ve always been my goal.”

and you remember opening the door to him, being shocked by his face and his eyes, being so grateful to have him even as angry as you were.

he promised not to leave, you remember, and he hasn’t forgotten that yet.

you swallow, looking up. “i’ll never forget you. and neither will anyone else.”

he cant say it this time—i know—because he doesn’t.

you wouldn’t be angry at him for giving up, if it didn’t mean that he thought he wasn’t worth remembering in the first place.

but satoru kisses you then, hard and so goddamn sweet.

and that’s always been enough.

[starhvney]

heyyy can you do drabbles of the guys with you baby please? like just some nice domestic stuff :) maybe with garroth, laurance, gene, and dante please. thank youuuuub

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mys dante, garroth, gene, & laurance

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it’s the little simple moments with them that end up sticking the longest

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: why is every mys man sassy? idk, it really is the sassy man apocalypse, anyways so much fluff, & slice of life

𝐂𝐖: none unless you're easily susceptible to baby fever

𝐀/𝐍: um, perfect prompt for father’s day i guess? yes i made all of them girl dads except for dante because i can what are you gonna do about it??? also i realized i either included sleep or food in each of the drabbles for babies cause like what else do you do with them?? like i love babies but i’m the baby of my family so like i’ve never even changed a diaper before lmaoo i just hold them sometimes if there’s one around i guess. ok i'll stop yapping sry

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄

at first you weren’t paying much attention, the goofy laughter of dante and your baby pretty common occurrence in your home. you mainly were focusing on some paperwork in front of you on the counter, something you had really been needing to get to for the past week and just hadn’t gotten a chance yet.

your hand is rubbing your eyebrow as you lean over, trying to process the words you're reading. nothing is really coming through, however, especially when another round of laughter comes from the two.

you could never be mad at the distraction, especially when the sound was the joy of both of the people you cherished and loved the most. you couldn’t help but investigate, though, especially since dante was just supposed to be feeding your son.

how funny could that be, for them to be laughing more than any eating was getting done?

just as you turn into the dining room, your met with the sight of yogurt and a blueberry meeting the floor with a comical plap.

very slowly, your eyes drift back up to the two boys in front of you, accusatorily squinting at the one that was supposed to be more responsible than the other.

dante sucks in some air through his teeth, looking guiltily at you before back to your baby in the chair. said baby’s mouth and hands are covered in yogurt, the boy blankly staring back at you.

a moment of silence passes, both of them staring at you like a deer in headlights before dante leans over to the boy, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.

“we’ve been caught.”

“are you two…having a food fight?” you question, hands on your hips.

“no!” dante defends, lifting another scoop of yogurt up to the boy. “he just refuses to actually eat, and then i laughed when he got it everywhere… and now he keeps smacking the spoon away to try and make me laugh again.”

you sigh, watching as your baby grips the spoon, smearing the yogurt in his hands and smearing it over his mouth. dante’s head falls forward, landing onto the edge of the high chair’s table as he quietly laughs at the spectacle.

“what is he doing? it’s so dumb, i don’t know why it’s so funny. look at his little face.” he laughs, lifting his head and pointing at the baby who sends the both of you a proud look.

“don’t—” your voice wobbles as you hold back the urge to laugh yourself. “—don’t encourage it, dante.”

“i’m not trying to!” he insists, lifting the spoon back up to your son’s face.

“dude, just eat the food!” dante giggles, the spoon of baby food shaking in front of the boy’s face as his whole body trembles with his laughter. 

this time, it gets a little out of hand, his chubby hand smacking the spoon completely out of dante’s wobbly hands and splattering it onto the floor.

“alright, no more.” you say sternly, causing the two to look at you with pouty eyes. “i’m gonna clean him up and he can have a gogo squeez.”

you pace forward, scooping your son up from his seat and groaning when he smears his yogurt hands onto your clean shirt. dante stands up, grinning sheepishly and leaning forward to give you a peck on the lips.

“sorry.”

you smile sweetly, giggling when you raise your little one up to dante’s face, allowing him to also give a big ‘ol kiss onto dante’s face, therefore smearing yogurt all over his cheek.

“it’s fine! you’re going to clean it up, after all.”

his eyes widen, looking around at the mess before hitting his lower lip out, hands lacing together in a pleading motion. “no help?”

you raise an eyebrow. “dante.”

“yeah, that’s fair.” he immediately concedes, clearly not all that serious about making you help in the first place. he points in accusatory finger at your son, lips pouting as he bends down to meet his eye level.

“dang you for being so cute and funny like your dad, now you got me in trouble and you get to be pampered like you’re not the culprit.” he complains, and your son merely laughs at the stupid face he was making.

“you two are going to be a handful, no matter the age.” you sigh.

“but you’ll love us!” dante winks, leaning forward to kiss your cheek and very purposefully nuzzling his face against yours, smearing more yogurt all over your face, too.

“ugh, dante!”

“i love you~!”

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

there’s a certain fullness in your chest, something you can’t express in words at this moment. it’s such a simple, mundane day. yet, you’re lulled into an indescribable sense of comfort and love as the sound of your husband making your daughter’s laughter bounce off the walls fills the otherwise quiet house, all at the expense of him acting like a fool. 

a few times your eyes had diverted from the steaming pot on the stove in front of you leaning over to glance into the living room to see what they were up to. the first time he had been playing peek-a-boo, the next it was him crawling around on all fours while she babbled what was probably meant to be “yeehaw!”, and the next after that he had been tossing her up into the air and dipping her back down like an airplane.

you had to focus your attention on draining the pasta and taking the heat off the meat you were cooking, finishing the final sauces and seasonings when you realized you hadn’t heard garroth’s deep voice nor your baby’s elated giggles for a good while.

wiping your hands off on your apron you step into the doorway, peering into the now silent room. any slight concern you felt disappears, instead replaced by awe as you gaze at the endearing sight in front of you.

garroth is lazed back on the couch, somehow completely passed out despite being wide awake just ten minutes ago. his mouth is open, soft snores leaving his mouth. his hand rests firmly on your daughter’s back, keeping her in place as she rests on his broad chest.

before the moment is wasted you dash back into the kitchen to grab your phone, shuffling back as light as you can on your feet to not disturb the peaceful moment. your girl is tuckered out, cheek squished against her dad’s chest, drool dripping down onto his shirt, arms and legs sprawled out onto the rest of his torso.

you click a few pictures of the scene, crouching down for a second to admire the tranquil and frankly adorable memory you’re sure to keep even when your baby isn’t a baby any longer.

you lightly reach out to garroth’s shoulder, squeezing and gently shaking it to wake him up. it doesn’t take more than that—which was very surprising based on how hard he usually slept—for him to crack open his sleepy eyes. you can’t help the tiny giggles that leave your mouth at how he looked, the poor man’s eyes glazed and cheeks pink. a baby with lots of energy will do that to you.

“hey, my love. dinner’s ready.” you whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss onto his cheek.

he squeezes his eyes shut with a sleepy groan, going to stretch before freezing, his hand still protectively on your daughter’s back despite his lack of awareness. you reach to pick her up before he lightly pushes your hand away with a jut of his lower lip.

“no, she’s cuddling me right now.”

you lean forward, head resting on the couch as you snicker at him. “yeah, and drooling all over you too, goofy.”

“at least it’s cute baby drool. when you drool on me though…”

a smack to his shoulder shuts him up. “i do not drool!”

“sure,” he retorts, his chuckles shaking the girls head and waking her from her light nap.

she reaches up to rub her little round eyes, lips spreading into an excited smile when she sees both her mommy and daddy are right there with her.

“time to eat! are you hungry?” you whisper, reaching forward to wiggle a finger against her stomach, making her giggle and squirm.

garroth chuckles again, lifting the girl up as he suddenly stands up. “ah! the tickle monster is gonna get you! don’t worry, my princess, i’ll save you!”

the girl squeals in laughter, still a bit sleepy as she leans on his shoulder as he rushes to the kitchen. you follow after with an amused eye roll, unfastening your apron and throwing it onto the counter as garroth plops the girl right down into her high chair.

as you pull down the plates garroth takes them from behind you, arms encasing you as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“i got it. thank you for dinner, sweetheart.”

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄

this moment is perfect. sitting on one side of a blanket, your husband on the other side keeping your daughter steady on her chubby legs as you call for her to walk towards you. you felt so warm, from the setting sun shining on your skin and warming the blood in your veins, to the the swirl of love in your chest as you watch gene lift your daughter’s feet and march them forward.

he looks so soft like this, skin glowing and eyes shining with a certain warmth you would’ve never believed could be seen on him a few years ago. soft coos and high-pitched chants comically leave his mouth, cheering the little girl as she takes a step towards you.

“come on, baby girl. you can do it.” he says, proud smile on his face as she takes another step. “there you go!”

a moment later her legs wobble and give out on her. though it would’ve been a short fall onto a soft and padded ground, gene’s hands still shoot forward, lifting the girl up with a small, “woah-!” leaving his lips.

while this maneuver had worked several times before, it would seem your baby was quite fed up with this practice, frustrated whines beginning to leave her lips and feet kicking out in the air.

“it’s getting kind of late, huh…” you note, watching the sky begin to slowly dim and a few fireflies light up above your heads. 

“yeah,” he says, cradling the little one to his chest similarly to how he did when she was even smaller than she was now. “and she did so good, right sweetheart?”

she seemed quite set on throwing a fit just mere seconds ago, but melts into her father’s arms with a giggle when he wiggles his fingers against her sides.

you feel yourself melting too at the sight, scooting forward and saving your daughter from the clutches of gene’s wrath with a clean scoop into your arms.

“aw, c’mon—” he starts, before his eyes drift to a firefly that landed right on his knee.

your baby’s attention immediately drifts to the soft flash of light from the bug, the cutest little gasp leaving her lips as she leans towards it in your arms.

he imitates her tiny gasp with his own, eyes reflecting the yellow-green glow from the bug as he carefully cups his hand around it, lifting it up towards her face and cracking them open for her to peer into.

“wow!” she softly gasps again, tiny hand wrapping around one of gene’s fingers to steady herself as she sleepily wobbles.

gene opens his hand, letting the firefly go off into the air. she sleepily blinks up into the dimming sky, lower lip beginning to wobble and eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“oh, someone’s getting sleepy.” he coos, taking the girl from your arms as you start to gather the blanket up.

he holds her like a newborn, rocking her and ghosting light kisses against her forehead. she immediately flutters her eyes shut, one hand grasping onto his shirt and the other curling by her face like a little princess, just as gene had spoiled her to be.

“she’s getting so big. soon enough she’ll be too big for you to carry her like that all the time.” you say, pressing a kiss on her forehead as you two begin the short trek back into your neighborhood.

“not true,” he defends, voice quiet as he stares down at the features of her face. “i can carry you, so i can carry her until she doesn’t let me anymore.”

you don’t say anything to this, noticing the sentimental gleam in the deep color of his irises. 

“someone’s feeling soft.” you lightly tease, brushing your shoulder against his. “whatcha thinkin’ about?”

he doesn’t respond for a second, eyes slowly blinking before he finally looks at you, the amount of love in his eyes not diminishing in the slightest.

“thank you.” he says, voice quiet and tender.

“…for what?” you softly return.

“if you told me in high school, no, even after that, that i was married to you and had a baby and was living a happy life… i would’ve laughed in your face.” he takes a deep breath, leaning over to kiss your forehead and doing the same to the girl in his arms. “i never knew this is what i wanted until i met you. thank you.”

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

once again, like clockwork, the shrill cries of your baby girl interrupt the peaceful quiet of the night. once again, your tired eyes peel open, muscles flinching for you to get up and comfort your child despite the exhaustion that settles deep into your bones. 

before you can even prop yourself onto one arm, your husband’s hand settles firmly on your hip, keeping you from leaving the warm comfort of your shared bed.

“no, stay in bed. i’ll deal with her this time.” he leans in to whisper in your ear, voice raspy from a lack of sleep and the late hour.

“you got her last time, though.”

“and you take care of her all the time when i’m working.” his hand moves down to your hip where he squeezes, pressing a kiss onto the side of your face. “go back to sleep.”

any further protests die from your throat when you feel the bed dip as he leaves, quietly closing the door behind him to go to the nursery across the hall. as soon as the door shuts so do your eyelids, as you feel yourself involuntarily drift back to a half asleep state.

it’s not until you wake back up quite a few moments later, hand reaching to laurance’s side of the bed only to find it empty and cold. you groan, turning to double check before catching the faint sound of the water running in the bathroom.

with a sigh, you leave the bed, holding back the shiver as the chill of the cool bedroom bites at your skin. cracking open the bathroom door, you find the lights off, room lit just by a candle and the nightlight by the sink. steam fills the whole room from the hot shower that ran, and you see laurance in the center of the room, gently rocking your little girl back to sleep.

he looks up to you, usually bright eyes heavy lidded from lack of sleep and shoulders slumped. his hair is a little dampened and flat from the moisture in the air, skin glowing as the heat stuck to his skin. despite this, he can’t help the soft smile that stays curved on his lips as he looks from your daughter to you as you approach him.

“she’s just now falling back asleep.” he whispers, voice barely audible over the water hitting the shower floor. “

you nod, standing in front of him to gaze at the girl in his arms. her eyes fluttered as if she were still trying to stubbornly fight off sleep. her little lips pouted as a bit of bubbled drool left her lips, perfectly content and comfortable in her daddy’s arms. 

you quietly hum a small tune, one of your fingers lightly ghosting along the slope of her nose. it has the same curve as laurance’s, just as the similar shape and color of her eyes to the man that held her.

you couldn’t help the surge of affection that overwhelmed you, reaching forward to plant your lips on his and place a few more along his face and neck. he leans forward as you pull back, quietly groaning before looking down at the small girl that was keeping him from making any hasty decisions. 

“if your mommy isn’t careful we’re gonna end up with another one of you.” he sweetly coos, gently rocking her.

“…i just kissed you.” you quietly giggle, looking down to see the girl had officially drifted into dreamland.

laurance merely smiles in return with a raised eyebrow, following after you back into the nursery. his focus diverts as he ever so gently sets your daughter back down to rest, releasing a sigh of relief as she doesn’t make a hint of protest, merely settling down into the crib.

you find yourself drifting to his side before he can turn back around, arms wrapping around his waist as you gaze down at the little girl in the blankets.

“she’s exhausting, but beautiful.” you quietly sigh, finger reaching down to brush against the soft skin of her cheek.

“just like her mom.”

it takes a moment for the tired and content fogginess in your brain to clear, realizing what he just said. 

“…excuse me?”

silent laughter shakes the both of you as he hugs you closer, dipping you down into his arms and pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“i’m just joking, of course.” he giggles, peppering kisses along your jaw.

“a terrible joke. awful joke.” you say, though you couldn’t help the laughter that threatened to bubble from your lips, voice trembling with amusement. 

“i’m a dad now, i’m allowed to make bad jokes.”

“oh whatever, you nerd.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[frudoo]

OK SO THIS MIGHT BE RLLY DUMB but I’m gonna share it anyway

So like, imagine reader maybe introducing Bo to some band they like (im listening to Ghost rn so I’m picturing them but honestly it can be anything) and Bo gets super into that band. And reader lets him borrow a cd, “as long as he doesn’t break it” (said in kinda a jokey way)

And Bo breaks it on accident

And when he has to tell reader he (who has probably been severely punished as a child for breaking or losing his things, let alone a borrowed thing) is expecting screaming, maybe even hitting. He’s full on bracing himself for the absolute worst

And readers just like “oh that’s unfortunate:( but it’s alright, just replace it and be more careful next time:)” and just moves on with the conversation

And Bo’s like ????? Why aren’t you screaming at me????

And readers like ????? Why would I scream at you?????

Idk maybe this is dumb I’m sorry if it is

It’s not dumb at all, sugar!! Super sweet!

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse (Bo). GN reader!

Bo remembers the conversation clearly.

     “Who’d ya say this is?” He’d asked, nodding his head along to the third song of the CD you’d popped into the player of his truck. 

     “Ghost,” you’d replied with a grin, pleased that he was enjoying it.

     “Not bad,” He shrugged. “Can I, uh… can I keep it in here for now? Just ‘til ya need it back?”

     “Yeah, of course! Long as you don’t break it,” you’d said, nudging his arm gently.

     Well, shit.

     He broke it.

     He’d taken it out of the CD player to examine the disc, and when he tried to push it back in, it snapped in half. Bo thinks his heart did, too. Now here you are in his living room, yapping away about your day, living in ignorant bliss. Bliss he’s about to trample on. 

     “I broke your CD,” he blurts out, sweat pouring down his face despite every fan in the house being on. “M’sorry, didn’t mean to.”

     “Aw, that’s a shame. Just get a new one, I don’t mind. Was gonna let you have it anyway,” you frown sympathetically before perking back up to continue your story. “So anyway, this girl would not follow… me… What?”

     Bo’s staring at you with furrowed eyebrows, arms crossed over his body like he’s expecting you to hit him. God knows Trudy would have beaten him with her hand or fist or the largest switch she could manage. 

     “You’re… not gonna yell at me?” He questions in the softest tone you’ve heard since the first time you met him.

     “Why the hell would I yell at you over a CD? It’s really not a big deal,” you reach out to pat his hand with a confused laugh, frowning at the way he flinches. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

     “M’sorry,” He mutters, burying his face in his shaking hands.

     You move to sit beside him on the couch, carefully prying his hands away from his head so you can look at him. The despair reflecting back at you breaks your heart, and you immediately wrap your arms around his waist as he burrows into your neck. It’s a sight, watching big, bad Bo Sinclair cry, one you never wish to experience again. 

     “It’s just a CD, Bo. I’m not mad at you,” you reassure him when he finally collects himself, cupping one red cheek in your palm and running your thumb along it soothingly.

     Bo kisses your palm softly before gently pushing it away to give you a small smile. He’s calmer, now, like the terrified little creature tucked away in the deepest parts of his brain was offered some kind of reprieve, some kind of love. It’s foreign to him but it’s now something he craves, something he realizes he’s missed all his life.

     And he wants it all from you.