Romance ! Fluff/Angst : "Sunshine" x "Grumpy" GN reader
Synopsis : A grumpy, lonely person keeps pushing everyone away, until one cheerful guy refuses to leave—not to fix them, but to simply stay.
[Pls dont flopp🙏🙏🙏]
enjoy !
You hated it. Their laughter, their friendships, their easygoing nature, you just hated it or much to say, you despised it—it all felt like a mockery. Was it their fault, or was it yours?
Were you just incapable of finding happiness?
Had life became too cruel too you?
Or were you just that much of a hater?
You don’t know — and honestly, it seems like you never even tried to care. Is it because of what they said? That ignorance suits you, that apathy defines you? That’s what they said, not you.
It’s not your fault you’re grumpy and short-tempered. It’s their fault — for surrounding you with nothing but annoyance.
It’s not your fault you glare at people for no reason — they were the ones looking at you strangely, smiling like they knew something you didn’t. Honestly, why are they even smiling? What is there to smile about? It’s not like there’s a camera pointed at them, waiting to capture the moment.
And honestly, it’s not your fault for shooing those “human beings” away with a few snarky comments. It’s their fault — for existing, for breathing, for making your life just a little bit worse by being in it.
So no, it’s not your fault. You just learned to survive in a world that never asked what you needed — only why you weren’t smiling.
Happiness is just a performance. Laugh, talk, post your perfect moments — but what’s the point? It doesn’t really mean anything.
It’s exhausting, really — their pity, their concern. As if you’re missing out on something amazing. Happiness? Where?
You’re tired of their pity — tired of hearing that you “just need to find happiness.” As if that’s something lying around waiting to be picked up. All you ever find is more reasons to be annoyed, all you ever see is nonsense and people who won’t shut up.
Maybe you don’t want to be fixed. Maybe you don’t want to be understood. Maybe it’s easier to push everyone away than to admit you’re just lonely.
They post quotes about gratitude, share pictures of sunsets, pretend coffee can cure emptiness. As if putting a filter on sadness makes it beautiful.
Maybe you're just tired of trying.
And of course, there’s that one obnoxiously loud guy who keeps showing up — Silas. his grinning and smiling blinding your eyes. Seriously, who the hell does he think he is?
He waves at you every single time, like it’s some ritual. A cheerful “hi” like he hasn’t noticed the permanent scowl on your face. He holds the door open for you, too, like it’s his life’s mission to sprinkle happiness wherever he goes. And then, as if that weren’t enough, he actually talks to you. Not just once. Not by accident. Consistently. Casually. Like it’s normal.
And what’s worse — he keeps doing it even after you give him snark, eye-rolls, and silence. You’ve thrown every cold remarks in the book, laced your tone with enough sarcasm to make a child cry, and yet… he just smiles. Like it doesn’t hurt. Like maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t care that you’re trying to push him away.
Does he think that makes him your friend? That waving and holding doors and surviving a few insults earns him some kind of award? is this his idea of bonding? Is he that immune to rejection, or just too oblivious to see it?
He finds excuses to be near you — sitting one seat too close, showing up wherever you are with some silly reason, like he just happened to be passing by.
Silas remembers the smallest things you say, brings them up later like it means something. He offers you gum, shares his snacks, lends you pens you never asked for. He laughs too easily at your dry remarks, like he’s trying to prove he gets you.
Sometimes, he walks beside you without saying anything at all, like silence is enough. Like just being near you is a victory in itself. And the worst part? He acts like it’s all natural — like he’s not trying at all, like the closeness just happens.
Most people get the hint. They back off, shrink away, disappear like they were never really there. But not him. He stays. Not in some dramatic, clingy way — just... consistently.
Is it bad that you’ve started to enjoy his presence? you catch yourself smiling when Silas' around? That his little compliments the ones you used to brush off now get appreciated and linger longer than they should? You don’t know when it started, really.
Maybe it was the way he kept showing up, or the way he never expected anything from you. Maybe it’s just been so long since someone looked at you without judgment.
Whatever it is, it’s messing with the carefully built distance you swore you’d keep. And you’re not sure whether that’s comforting… or terrifying.
You start to notice things you shouldn’t. How his smile always comes a second too late when no one's watching. How his laugh sometimes sounds like he's trying too hard.
You hate that you’re noticing. You hate that you care. Because if you care, then you’re vulnerable. You don't want to owe him anything. Not your time, not your attention, definitely not your feelings. But here you are, thinking about him more than you'd ever admit and also caring about him.
Somehow, you’ve started giving him compliments — not full nice ones, obviously. More like “not bad, for someone who talks too much,” or “you almost look like you have taste today.” Snark first, sincerity buried somewhere beneath it. It’s pathetic, maybe. Or maybe it’s the only way you know how to be kind without feeling exposed.
You let him hug you now. Let Silas rest his head on your shoulder when he’s tired. Things you used to swat away or glare off — somehow, they’ve become allowed. You’ve started to see it: he’s not all smiles and sunshine all the time. Even he gets tired. Even he needs somewhere to lean.
It’s not like he asks for much — never has. He doesn’t demand your attention or beg for affection. He just… shows up. Quietly. And lately, you’ve started to meet him. Maybe with a sigh, maybe with a sarcastic comment, but you're there. You stay.
Sometimes, you catch him watching you — not with that loud grin he throws around for the world, but something softer. Quieter. Like he sees something in you that you’re not ready to see in yourself. It’s kind of comforting.
He doesn’t say thank you when you let him lean on you, and you’re glad. If he did, you’d probably push him off out of reflex. But the way his shoulders relax, the way he exhales like he can finally breathe — that says enough.
And maybe you still roll your eyes. Maybe you still complain and scoff and pretend it’s all just mildly tolerable.
And though the words stay trapped behind your teeth, you think them anyway
Please don’t leave.
Not now. Not when you’ve finally let someone in.
But when he reaches for you a hug, a hand, a silent closeness — you don’t pull away anymore.
You let him stay.
And that says everything.
He'll be there for you, and you'll be there for him.
And maybe thats enough..
He doesn’t try to fix you. He just sees you. And maybe that’s what you’ve needed all along. Not someone to pull you into the light just someone willing to sit with you in the dark.
So when Silas shows up tomorrow all loud, smiling, and annoyingly happy — you won’t roll your eyes. Instead, you'll say something sarcastic and walk beside him like it’s normal.
And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be glad he didn’t give up on you — even when you already had.
Synopsis: Your younger brother despised you too much—to the point he now regretted that you carried his hatred with you into the afterlife, instead of the love he never showed.
Enjoy!
Your younger brother loathed you. He despised every inch of your existence. His very skin crawling at the mere thought of you. Still, you loved him and treated him like a normal human being.
You were the perfect sibling, always striving for excellence, always pushing yourself to the limit. It seemed like there was no room for anything less than perfect. It was hard not to feel a little envious sometimes.
He hated you because he felt like you had it all, the attention, the praise, the success, while he was there, in the sidelines, he's alway in your shadow, begging to be recognized and treated the same like you do.
It was so unfair. He poured his heart and soul into making everyone proud, but you were always there, ready to snatch the spotlight, making his efforts feel pointless.
Oh, how his hatred for you burned.
You were the breadwinner, the one who brought home the bacon, while he was just the younger brother, left to feel like a burden, a useless thing left in the dust.
Perhaps a small achievement would have made all the difference, a chance to be recognized, even if it was just little. But no, you just had to make things worse, didn't you?
No matter what you did, no matter how much you loved him, his hatred would remain, haunting you forever.
He was tired of being overlooked, of his efforts being dismissed, of waiting for his moment to succeed while you always seemed to be one step ahead.
He despised you—and you know it.
But there he was, weeping over your lifeless body, your body, now gone, after the tragic decision to take its own life. It was a scene of cruel irony. The brother who had hated you so deeply, now consumed by grief, and regret.
He never knew the weight you carried, the pressure you felt to be perfect, the suffering you endured behind your success.
He was supposed to hate you. Why was he there, weeping over your casket, whispering apologies to a body that couldn't hear, a life that could no longer hear his words?
You died wishing he had known, wishing he had understood, wishing he had seen the pain you hid, but instead, his hatred was the thing you carried with you towards afterlife.
It was too late for him to chase you.
Too late to apologize.
Too late to say he had loved you.
Too late to save you from the pain you hid.
He couldn't escape the feeling that it was his fault, that his actions had led you to this, that he was the one who had taken your life away.
Did his envy kill you? Did his words kill you like a knife? Maybe he was really the reason you died.
He could finally achieved his dream and excel without you stealing the spotlight, but the victory felt nothing. But at what cost? You were gone, and the spotlight he craved now felt hollow, felt empty now that you weren't here with him.
Oh how he longed to turn back the clock, to rewind the past, to have another chance to make things right with you, his older sibling.
Platonic ! Fluff/Angst : child GN! reader x diagnosed mother
Synopsis: Loving you. Loving you costs bending through reality. Yet your mother cherished you, no matter what it costs.
TW! : mentions of hallucinations, miscarriage, Intentional nonadherence ( when a sick patient intentionally forgets to take their medication ).
Note : This was supposed to be published yesterday, but decided to add more. I don't know if this is good or not, it's my first time writting angst and I think this is kind of rushed(?), so if there are errors my bad ^^
enjoy!
Whenever you were with your mother, a familiar lullaby would drift from your mother's lips as she brushed your hair with utmost care, her voice was gentle and her sweet scent filled the room.
You knew how she cared and cherished you. She would shower you with unconditional love as if the world was ending.
Afterall, you were her one and only precious child.
Ever since she gave birth to you, her husband had seemingly abandoned her side without explanation. It was almost unbelievable to her, how could he just leave her like that, especially after she had just brought you into the world? Did he have no remorse?
Her heart ached for the pain her husband's departure caused, but she never let it affect her love for you. You were her child, and she would always cherish you.
She wouldn't let her pain dictate her actions. A mother's love was a promise, and she was determined to keep hers.
Knowing how much it pained you to learn your father had left you during your birth, she oathed to herself that she would do anything to protect you, to spare you the pain of your father leaving, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness. You were just a child after all, innocent and unaware of the world's harsh realities.
Your mother was determined to provide everything you needed, filling the gap left by your father's absence. She wanted you to have the best life she never had.
A porcelain doll. She started to treat you like a porcelain doll. You were her only child, a precious treasure she treated with the same delicate care one might give a porcelain doll.
She would gently brush your hair, tuck you into bed, bathe you with love, read you your favorite book every night, and feed you her delicious home-cooked meals. Every thing that a mother would do to her child if she loved them that much.
Your mother had paid such close attention to you that even at two years old, she knew your favorite things. She especially knew you loved going on walks, she knew your favorite dessert, knew your favorite food, favorite color, favorite letter, favorite number, — anything.
Your happiness was her happiness. She would smile whenever you laughed, giggled, or showed any sign of joy whenever she would let you have your favorite things, her heart would swell.
However, she couldn't understand why people would give her dirty looks when she took you outside. Was it so unusual for a mother to spend time with her child? Didn't everyone deserve to enjoy a simple outing with their child?
It only made her to protect you more, She couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt by those who would give you dirty looks and speak ill of you when you grow up.
Yet, She found it strange and couldn't help but wonder why people would hesitate to speak to her whenever she took you outside. It was as if they were holding back something, but couldn't quite bring themselves to say it.
Her instincts screamed at her. Something wasn't right, she could feel it in her bones. She had tried everything, but the truth continued to run away from her. She was starting to wonder if she would ever find out what was really going on.
Sometimes, your mother would ask you if she had done something wrong, if she had made a mistake. You, with your innocent heart, would always reply with a cheerful "No," reassuring her worries.
Despite her efforts to dismiss it, a deep sense of unease roamed around her. Something was wrong, she couldn't shake the feeling.
Ding!
The door opened disrupting her thoughts, and a sense of comfort filled her as she saw you. Her mood instantly lifted; you were her safe place, her reason to be happy.
You held up the paper with a beaming smile, showing her the drawing you had made. It was a picture of you and her, both happy, in your cozy home.
She gently took the paper, a warm smile spreading across her face as she admired your work. For a moment, her worries seemed to fade, replaced by a sense of comfort.
"Mother? ... You look sad... Did I do something wrong?" Your innocent question, filled with concern, hung in the air.
She gently touched your cheek, her smile slightly strained. "You did nothing, honey," she said, her voice soothing. "It's just Mommy's worried about something..." She paused, her smile softening. "It's really nothing to worry about."
You weren't convinced. You gently tugged at her shirt, your brow crinkled. "Mommy, did you take your medicine? The doctor said you have to..."
Medicine, right. A few years ago, your mother was diagnosed with something, but she didn't tell you. She didn't want you to worry, because you're still so young. She wants you to focus on yourself. You wish you could help her.
Mommy always forgets to take her medicine. She's not old, but she's so busy taking care of you that she forgets about herself. You understand, though. You know how much she loves you, so you'd always remind her.
But she always felt uneasy whenever she took her medication. It was like she was afraid of it. She was worried something bad would happen, and she couldn't imagine leaving you without her care. So she'd avoid taking it and kept forgetting.
She prepared the medicine and water, her movements automatic as she swallowed it. She blinked slowly, the familiar discomfort settling in as she swallowed the medication.
She blinked, and blinked, her eyes darting around the room, and blinked again.
Where were you?
Panic surged through her as she frantically searched for you.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she searched for you, her voice trembling as she called your name, her fear growing with each moment.
Thud!
Her eyes darted to the source of the sound, her mind reeling as she saw the porcelain doll. It looked so much like you, it was almost unsettling.
This couldn't be you, right? You were real, her child, the one she cherished and held close. This couldn't be happening to her, not after all she'd been through.
Her mind must be playing tricks on her. All those years you were— her eyes landed on a picture, an ultrasound, a picture of you still in her womb.
A reminder.
It was a cruel reminder of the day that she had lost you.
A cruel reminder that life was awful to her. To you.
She frowned, her stomache tightened with discomfort. It was always like this, a strange feeling that wandered around whenever she took her medication. She shouldn't have. She knew it. Because in the blink of an eye, you would disappear, and the thought of that.. wants to make her disappear also with you.
She take the thought of losing you again, not twice. The memory of that day, the day you slipped away, was a wound that never quite healed. It was a deep wound in her heart, The longing made her realize how easily happiness could be lost, how easily you could've disappear.
She needed to stop. She needed to stop taking the medication, even if it she felt pain, and discomfort . She couldn't gamble with life and lose you again, twice. Not when you the only reason she woke up each morning, the only reason she kept going.
The thought of a life without you was hard. It was a life she couldn't imagine, a life she wouldn't want to live when you weren't with her. You were her everything, her reason for being, for living, for everything.
She couldn't lose you again. Not twice. Not ever.
She needed to find a way, a way to be always with you, a way to keep you close, a way to make sure you stayed with her. She needed to find a way, even if it meant ignoring the doctors, going against logic, and breaking through reality.
Anything.
She would find a way. She had to. For you. For her. She wanted nothing more than to share a happy life with you.
Synopsis: Despite being born into a rich family, your simple needs weren't fulfilled, and you weren't treated and loved like a child properly. And, against all odds, your kidnapper was the one who was able to satisfy your basic necessities and became your guardian.
Note: English is my second language
enjoy!
Doing all the wealthy guys' dirty work? Cassius is already used to it. For him, it's just another normal day in his world, completing another "under the table" job assigned by his shitty boss. It's already clear that he thinks about the life he could have had if he hadn't been born into this world.
So just imagine it when he kidnapped you, a rich family's child. He thought you'd be loudly crying like some spoiled nepo baby—
—and indeed you did cry, however it was different from what he imagined.
Of all things, you cried because he gave you a bed to sleep, food to eat, water to drink—in short, all the basic necessities. Aren't you supposed to have all that, but in a luxurious version? You know, with silk sheets and caviar?
Instead of you crying like some sort of unruly child, you clung onto him, your small fingers digging into his worn leather jacket, your breath hitching as you fought back the tears while thanking him endlessly.
He was baffled. He couldn't believe you weren't begging to be returned to your luxurious life. Weren't you supposed to beg him to go back home? Or is his mind playing tricks on him...?
Surely you were just clinging onto him like a koala and acting to get favors right...?
And when he tried to contact your rich, good-for-nothing parents you did the opposite—you clung onto him, your small hands gripping his arm, begging him not to.
Now, he was really confused. Don't blame him for not getting any clues, he's just a man who's too busy fulfilling his jobs, not realizing his living under a rock.
He was horrified and dumbfounded when he dug some information about your well-being, discovering that you weren't properly taken care of—and let me tell you that he took it to heart. And instead of returning you, he kept you, protected you, and treated you like a human being.
He didn't care if his boss complained about him not doing his job properly and threatened him. After all, Cassius was a guy who did a lot of killings and shady businesses, so his boss should be the one to fear him and be threatened whenever he felt his presence.
Cassius abandoned his task and threatened his boss to give him the paycheck, which was really successful because he had scary privileges, and acted as your guardian.
He took you to different places, buying you everything your heart desired, plushies, desserts, toys, clothes, anything no matter the cost.
Whenever Cassius had missions, he'd bring you along, his presence comforting you. He'd be protecting you like some sort of bodyguard, his hand always close at hand, ready to shield you from anything.
One time, when you accidentally saw him beat up a guy, he feared that you'd get scared of him. However, you were giggling, considering that you were just an innocent and clueless child.
Making you laugh, he'd do everything to make you laugh, smile or giggle. Despite him being a big scary guy, it was an easy job for him to make you laugh.
At times when you were crying, you'd clung onto him and he'd soothe you, until you'd fall asleep in his arms. After that, he'd find who made his baby cry like that, and maybe, beat them to death? It's not Cassius' fault, it's the only choice he had...
He would sacrifice himself for you at any time, given that you weren't properly loved and cared for, because you were his child despite the circumstances.
He would do things that your parents didn't fulfill in your life, even simple things. Like tucking you to sleep, reading you a book, singing you a lullaby, combing your hair, anything that you could imagine.
You were his child after all, a child to be loved and taken care of.
Platonic ! Fluff - troublesome orphan M!reader x caring adoptive father
Synopsis: A troublesome young orphan finally finds solace in one's home
Note: English is my second language and it's my first time actually writing and enjoying it, so if there are errors, if it's too fast paced or too corny, I am sorry.
enjoy!
A small figure, barely taller than knee-high grass, stood there, a tiny smile gracing his face as the moonlight hit him. The little boy, accompanied by a neat, brown teddy bear, stood there, finding warmth in his companion.
"Finally," [Name] quietly whispered to himself. "Finally?.." the little boy repeated, but this time he wasn't sure, his grip on the fuzzy teddy bear tightening.
"I lasted..."
Three months have passed, and still, the one who adopted him—never returned him to the orphanage.
It felt surreal
—felt too real that his adoptive father never gave up on him, never gave up on his stranger nature. He was a walking contradiction, a ticking time bomb to be precise.
How come his adoptive father hadn't given up?
Usually, people would welcome him into their homes, but once his true nature emerged, he'd be sent back immediately—the longest adoption he lasted was a week. This cycle repeated endlessly, his hope disappearing like a bubble.
Yet, this one, this time, it lasted that long, strangely.
Maybe his adoptive father only pitied him, seeing him as the boy who was always adopted and then quickly returned.
Just maybe,
maybe,
maybe not?...
The poor boy just wanted to know, to know if he, his father cared. He just wanted to know if it was really real, that he loved him, that he wanted to take care of him like a normal child, that he—
—His anxious thoughts were soothed by the bed's comforting warmth that it had to offer.
After all, the bed wasn't like any other bed. Not like the orphanage's, not like the other houses Rayne went to, not like anything. Instead of the usual coldness, it offered warmth.
Warmth. It reminded him of his adoptive father, Elijah Orion. He wasn't rich, nor was he poor, he was in-between.
Elijah adopted [Name] despite his troublesome nature. He could say that [Name] was really a ticking time bomb. But rather than that, he also saw that he was a child, a child who also longed for affection.
And so, he would try to help [Name] come out of his shell. Not forcefully, not immediately, instead, slowly but surely. After all, it was his child, his child to give affection to, to protect, to ensure he has a nice childhood, and to treat him like someone special.
He would put effort into making his child's food, putting cute faces and messages. However, he wasn't a good cook, he burnt many foods, he accidentally made your scrambled eggs too salty, added too much sugar to the desserts he was supposed to serve you but didn't, yet... he still tried.
Writing, whenever you'd go to school or have lunch, he'd write a short message on post-it notes and put it in your lunch. He thought it wouldn't work, but your smile, a shy flicker of happiness, lit up your face as he picked you up from school, only to disappear quickly, leaving him thinking that he just imagined it. This time, it worked.
For others, they would think that [Name] didn't really show that he was affected by his father's attempts. But his father did, he would notice changes.
His child would smile subtly when he made an effort. He appreciated it whenever his food had cute faces and messages, even though the food was overcooked. He would also write back on the post-it notes, but crumple it and throw it in the trash. His father would yet discover the crumpled papers on the trash and smile.
[Name] knew his father tried, he knew. Despite his father being a bad cook, despite burning his morning toasts, despite his short messages on post-it notes being corny or not funny at all, Rayne knew his father made an effort even though there are times he would fail.
He felt warmth whenever he was with his father. Felt affection, felt protection, he finally felt like a child and not some troublesome person.
The things he longed for were now there with him.
He thought this moment wouldn't come.
Yet, it did
A soft rustling pulled Rayne's attention away from his thoughts. "[Name]?.." He recognized that gentle voice, it was familiar—it was his father's.
[Name] lifted his head, his eyes darting around the room, searching for his father. There, in the dim light, he saw his father sitting up on the bed, his face etched with concern.
"What are you doing up late? You're supposed to be asleep by this time..." Elijah paused, his concern obvious in the way his brow furrowed and his gaze softened.
"Is something concerning you?..."
That question...was nice to hear. The question echoed in his mind over and over again, a reminder that his father cared for him.
"Nothing, really. I just... I got thirsty in the middle of the night. Needed a drink," He lied, his voice monotone. His answer was supposed to sound like he didn't care, yet he failed miserably. It's not like he did anything bad...
"Well... then let's get back to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."
He shifted, scooting over to make room for his child on the bed, his hands patting the side of the bed that wasn't occupied.
[Name] lays beside him, feeling the bed's familiar softness while his father tucked him in. "Sleep tight..." He said, kissing [Name]'s forehead, making his child more comfortable while his other hand gently smoothed the boy's blanket.
"Finally..." [Name] smiled and mumbled softly to himself, but this time he was sure.
"Someone—something to call home..."
He drifted off, the warmth enveloping him like a soft blanket, soothing him to sleep.
