I saw a tiktok of someone using the 'that don't matter' audio for Caleb yandere tendencies so it gave me this crack thought of a nonmc getting isekaied into lads lol.
Like imagine an introverted nonmc being dropped into lads randomly, maybe during one of his routine farspace fleet missions through the deepspace tunnel and he somehow keeps it secret that he found this unconscious person floating around there. He'll end up bringing them home and stuff in secret so EVER doesn't find out or something.
Then ensue nonmc being super confused as to why she's seeing Caleb very much real and not on their little device anymore, having an under reaction or overreaction to it all, you pick. She could be a Caleb main or not, either way she's confused and then he's confused too because she just somehow knows his name and things about him. Cue the 'explaining what lads is' spiel in hopes he'll like not go off the rails.
Luckily he doesn't have the worst reaction since he's prob seen weird shit all the time in the deepspace tunnel. Nonmc is super thankful he's understanding, if at least only lowkey weirded out that he's a 'love interest' video game character for thousands to millions of people.
But the worry comes after when nonmc realizes she prob shouldn't be around him because he must obv be in love with MC, so she tries to tell him that she won't get in his way (or MC's way for the main story), even offers to leave somewhere far away and act like an NPC if she has to. She's a bit sad to do so though, since it really feels like she has no part in messing with his life and because she may have real feelings for him now that he's here in front of her.
What she doesn't expect is Caleb to actually be like '??? no? I don't like MC like that?', so now nonmc is understanding that actually this ver of Caleb is one where MC chooses someone else then??? Maybe yippie..???
Some time passes and he still doesn't mind having her around, even giving her a space of her own. He starts being super pampering and providing, telling her she doesn't even need to leave the house for her safety from being taken by EVER and all that so like okay sure! Not at all foreshadowing anything at all! Nonmc is just happy to have a Caleb that's really nice like the game.
He's easy to talk to, friendly, charismatic, what's there not to like?
Weeks become months and no other anomaly happens that she thought would've taken her away by now as if this was all some big dream. Instead, Caleb is just telling her not to worry about it, he'll protect her and solve everything!
Nonmc's lil radar in her head is going off, feeling a familiarity to this. What did all those lads community forums and posts talk about..?
Oh, that's right. Those yandere tendencies. She almost forgot about that.
Eventually she confronts him (gotta scold the puppy!), saying he can't pretend anymore since she knows everything about him, both good and bad. Reluctantly, he'll tell her the truth and say yeah okay he did want to keep her forever since she was so kind to him and he could be himself fully without remorse.
He just wants to give her everything! He's pleading at that point, kneeling and crying for forgiveness yk hehe. I mean look at those puppy eyes!!
Now it was nonmc's turn to just shrug and say 'yeah I've been fine with it actually'. He's just stunned a bit, because this is where someone would run for the hills but nope, nonmc is as nonchalant and blunt as she could be.
I mean he cooks very well, cleans a lot, and has a well-paying job that would provide as many gifts as she wants? He's women respecting who wouldn't mind being yelled at a lil?? On top of that, all she has to do is live there without lifting a finger and maybe get to smooch him in exchange for all that he does? Like say less??? This is her introverted dream!
And yeah, that's what's in my brain. :)
I just find it funny because as an introvert myself, I would prob be like a house cat with literal zero survival instinct. I mean, I'll just play games and draw all day, fine by me! If anything, I'd prob tell him he'd need to stay away from me because I'm the one who's going to act like clingy gremlin once he's home haha
synopsis ⚓︎ is it possible for sirens to be good? you never thought so before meeting suguru. a kind man does fishy deeds for the girl he is fascinated in.
warnings ⚓︎ general dark content warning, suggestive topics, illness, death, angst/no comfort, vague satosugu mention - 9k words
this is for Memoirs Beyond the Reef !!! please go check out the other prompts posted there, she has amazing ones! art creds to @/ectology on x!!
“what kind of man are you into?”
now, naturally that ought to be an odd question you ask someone you hardly know. but the old woman managing the local merchant stand has never had a clear visual of what boundaries mean. she asks questions and expects an answer. it’s a sense of entitlement her generation is known for.
for convenience purposes, giving her what she wants is always the safe route. even when it’s amusing the highly invasive questions she spits at you, that you’re certain she’ll forget the moment they file through her eardrums and out into the air again.
“well, i suppose i like a man with a soothing voice.” you reply, watching her eye the haughty net of fish you forced onto her for even a single spare coin. she seems to be counting the fish like sheep rather than hearing a word of your reply. at least it appears that way.
“a soothing voice? you mean a man that can sing?” she questions, and to your surprise, her usual scowl is less of a burden on her face. you recognize this as approval.
you nod once. “well, i was speaking generally..” the thought rolls back and forth in your brain. “but i do like a man that can sing. i find that quite charming.”
the woman smiles, the arch shaped wrinkles straining the ends of her lips could fool anyone into believing her expression is forced. you know better, and smile back. knowing how to navigate this woman is practically a survival skill.
“my husband,” she began, witching you into believing something pleasant would come out of her mouth. “well, my DEAD husband. he could sing beautifully, it was all he was good for. what a sack of fish shit!”
you look around for the cameras, honestly believing this was some chaotic episode of your life that only you can’t see. an awkward smile graces your lips, barely passing as anything at all. “that’s..that’s nice!” you chirp, “i guess i’ll just have to wait for the perfect man then.”
“i respect that, young lady.” she gestures for you to hold out your palm, and places a small herd of coins right into it. unfamiliarly, she closes your fingers around them like a clam does a pearl. “you have yourself a nice night. go buy your old man some bone broth, who know what this illness will do to his poor, old bones!”
ah, right. your father.
as of lately, he’s come down with—well—you don’t exactly know what. you’re no doctor to say the very least, only they’re just as lost as everyone else. it’s a terrible fate for healers to be clueless about their very job. all you know is that your father can’t fish with you, and he can’t handle all the business you hate handling. it’s become quite the hassle for your daily routine, and you find that you took a lot of what he did for granted. especially handling that old woman!
you remind yourself not to dwell on it too much, he’ll recover! until then, you’re in charge.
as told, you make your way to another market in search for something—anything that might assist your father. though on your way there, you feel eyes on you that you cannot spot. you feel as though you’re a fish with a hook right above its head.
has all this stress deluded you? you live in a small, friendly town. the only eyes on you are curious ones. it’s odd seeing you without your father. the culture in the town isn’t exactly strict, but families living together forever is a social norm. even though you’re grown, you have no intention on leaving your father.
not now, there’s no chance of such a thing anyway. not when he needs you just to have a shot at surviving.
unsurprisingly, you didn’t have enough money to comfortably buy medicine and proper food. just your luck.
you are almost certain the taste of grilled fish has permanently settled on your tastebuds. so much so, the flavor fatigue has started to feel like real fatigue. the tired muscles in your jaw are boardering stationary whenever you try to chew.
after a full day of work and almost no reward, your body feels the weight of every fish you caught. wake up, fish, sell, repeat. such a repetitive lifestyle felt so comfortable when it was you and your father. but when you’re alone, you start to think too much. you start to wonder what will happen if you get sick too? who will you rely on?
everything aches, both mentally and physically. you’ve never been in such a sorrowful state in your life, and you happen to think it can’t possibly get worse.
though, your predicament is nowhere near the state your father is in.
“thank you for dinner.” he says, and you know fully he’s too tired to appear grateful. of course he appreciate your efforts, but it’s hard to seem that way when every cell in your body hates you. when the person you’re supposed to take care of has to take care of you instead. it’s shameful to him, utterly shameful.
you smile at your father, and find that it’s considerably easy to tear up upon seeing him like this. you’d trade most anything for him to be healthy again. you can’t even begin to comprehend how much you’d give. would you give yourself?
you’re stumped.
“i’m going to go out earlier tomorrow.” you inform him, setting down the grilled fish you’ve only managed to take minuscule bites out of. “the fish will be hungry then. today was almost no luck.”
your father’s shoulders slouch, as if every syllable is an extra pound he has to carry. “sounds good.” he replies, then takes another bite. this is how dinner has been as of recently, and it’s days like these where you wonder if things will ever get better.
once you finish eating and tidying up the kitchen, your bed seems to be calling you to its comfort like a siren calls a man to sea. your thoughts buzz in your brain every time you even think of getting some rest. you can practically hear them.
though, the sound of something else catches your attention. intertwined with the loud, hissing wind berating the walls of the house, a man’s voice can be heard between each aggressive gust.
you sit up, since having one ear covered by your pillow does no good. almost instantly you recognize that the sound is coming from the direction of the ocean. could the man of your dreams really have spawned out of thin air? did that old woman manifest him straight to you? is she actually a witch?
there are too many questions, but no answers. the only way to truly find out is to go see for yourself. you throw the blankets off your legs, and practically skate into your slippers. first you peek out the window—nothing. the empty, dark living room houses a few more windows, but what a waste of time this all is.
you feel a current pushing you towards the front door—towards the direction of the ocean.
you make a b-line for the door, the wind blowing it further. something tells you it’s not just wind, something else is there—there’s no doubt.
your legs are tired and sore from nonstop labor, and your eyes have so many bags that one more would surely weigh your whole face down. yet you run anyway, straight onto the beach, straight towards the giant rock guarding your house from rebellious waves. the second your foot passes another square inch, it’s as if you cross a threshold. the singing comes to an abrupt halt, which makes the ocean much scarier than it was before.
you run to peek around the rock, hair blowing wildly and unrestrained. perched atop the rock, you see..a man. the best thing you can make out is black hair and broad shoulders. he doesn’t even turn his head, but you have a feeling he knows you’re there anyway.
the wind blows sand wildly around you, and you squint to avoid any complications. by the time you open your eyes again, he’s gone.
what a beautiful thing you’re sure he is, and what a shame you couldn’t talk to him. you wonder how and why this man has been manifested so close to you. better yet, how the hell did he disappear so fast? all you know is that you want to know more, you want to see that man again.
but..who is he? how peculiar.
the next day, you’re back at work—like routine! your head is swimming with thoughts about your father, since he hadn’t awoken by the time you left. it’s so unlike him to stay slumped like a bear through all the clattering and ruckus you cause in the mornings.
though, you quickly remember that sickness takes things and changes them without even asking. and you also remember that none of that is in your control. you can get all the money needed, you can get all the medicine and herbs on the planet to heal them. but it’s not guaranteed to work, it’s not guaranteed to get better.
that’s the scary part about life. and you wish so badly someone told you before the hook was lodged in your back.
the mindset that nothing will help certainly won’t cure your father, the only way is to keep going. so you go back to the rickety boat, and get back to work. the breeze over the water is a pleasant temperature, and the waves are soft enough to prevent any real sea sickness.
your fishing rod is damn near retired, another thing you add to your mental list of necessities. as you’re sorting through said list, you feel a tug on your pole. the initial pull is one you’d expect from a fish, but the second has you jolting in your seat.
the third sends the nose of your little boat forward—was a damn shark snagging your line?! you desperately use all your body weight to yank the rod back, fighting against something you can’t even see. your feet slide against the splintering wood, your heart is pumping so hard inside your chest it forces a scream out.
and then, it stops.
you fly forward from the loss of friction, but something else catches your attention. there’s a head poking out of the water, facing the exact opposite direction. was this a body?!
“h-holy shit!” you sputter, breathing so hard you were almost certain each breath could create a wave of its own. “are you alive? are you drowning? say something, you!”
the head slowly turns your direction, and raises up a bit at the same time. you immediately recognize the hair, even from the small glimpse you got the night before, you know it’s him.
it’s the man that came to your house.
he’s nothing short of a beautiful creature. hes got jet black hair that pours over his shoulders like ink, nowhere near disheveled from the salty ocean water. his shoulders are broad and bulky, and you can tell just by the view of his collarbones and the top of his arms that he’s got some muscle to him.
his features are sharp and incredibly handsome. where his hair is slightly tucked, you can see thick, black gauges sitting like pearls in his ear lobes. he’s absolutely gorgeous. you have never seen such a lovely looking man in all your years of life.
your eyes must’ve noticed the beauty before the ugly—since his mouth was occupied by the very fish you were trying to catch. he looks up from his half eaten fish and smiles.
“trying to steal my breakfast? what a thief.” he says, and his savoring bites tell you he’s wanting you to observe him longer.
you’re jaw is practically below sea level—was this just a random guy swimming? surely not, that was a stupid thought. “well, i need that to buy my own breakfast. you owe me a fish.”
“do i? you’re in my home, you know.” the flesh of the fish is gone at this point, he throws the thin, remaining bones right into your boat. “there’s your fish.”
you don’t even bother looking at what’s left, and instead you’re overcome by curiosity. “your home? you mean…you live here? you’re full of shit.”
the man smiles again, which resembles two, shiny strings of pearls. he starts to lean back against the soft waves, enough to where you see a fin poking out of the water. your confusion vanishes once you realized the tail is attached to his body.
your jaw drops once more, like an anchor has weighed it down, and you think for a good minute that you’re dreaming. you blink so hard it sends an ache through your skull.
“w-what the hell a—“
“i’m not a mermaid, before you ask.” he tells you, and the fact he’s so utterly beautiful makes what he says unbelievable. “you’ve really never seen someone like me? i’m sure your father has.”
you almost can’t believe it, but somehow you do. you’ve seen lots of crazy things in your life, but nothing even close to this. “i think it’s quite obvious i haven’t seen one. and how do you know about my father—“
“i have a keen eye.” god, what was with this guy and interrupting?! “i’ve seen you out lots of times. i have to assume he’s fallen ill?”
your silence confirms it.
“i can help you get money.” the sudden offer is one you struggle to process. “all i ask for is your time and company. you can’t imagine how long i’ve waited to talk to you.”
something about this unsettles you, but the kind smile on his face eases the feeling. “what’s the catch? you can’t seriously be offering to help me for free.”
“it’s not for free. i told you the fee is your time. surely you wouldn’t turn such an offer down.” he reaches his hand up out of the water, the webs between his fingers should freak you out, but you’re only fascinated.
“..i wouldn’t.” you mumble, and all you can think about is your father. this was a way to help him. he’d heal much faster if he wasn’t so stressed about the lack of money you’ve been bringing home. so, you reach your hand down to his level, just until your palms touch, snd your fingers wrap around his webbed ones. “deal.”
the man looks pleased, and doesn’t let go of your hand. he looks fascinated with you. “pleasure is mine. my name is suguru, by the way.”
you smile and nod, pulling your hand free. “that’s a suiting name. my name is—“
“—no need, i know your name.” he interrupts.
“okay, this interrupting thing is getting out of hand! if you want me to spend time with you, you’ll let me finish my sentences.” it comes out like a threat! you feel that you have the power here. he’s the one that’s desperate for your company for some unknown reason, so surely you can push things.
he bows his head once, and you wonder how he’s got such identical mannerisms to that of a human. right, he’s an observer.
“apologies. i suppose that means you’ll just have to teach me.” he winks, his tail swishing underwater to propel him away from your rickety boat. “i’ll get a head start on that fish for you.”
what a kind thing.
tonight night you bring to the seller an abundant amount of fish, as well as a few pearls and shells suguru said would be worth some money. he was absolutely right! you’re so thankful for his help, and the feeling only grows after you successfully purchase medicine and a decent meal for your father.
naturally, your father is suspicious when he sees he doesn’t have only scraps to eat. “where’d you get all this money from?” he asks, eating the soup anyway. you can visually see the relief on his face once he tastes his dinner. the soup has more in it than one kind of vegetable and a sea of salty fish.
“i had help today.” you tell him, looking completely pleased with yourself. “and he didn’t even ask for money!”
your father stops eating after hearing that. “didn’t ask for money? you mean he just helped you for fun or something?” he shook his head. “honey, i wouldn’t just accept big favors like that. nothing in this world comes for free. thank him and tell him you’ve got it from here.”
a frown forms on your face. “what are you talking about? i’ve got this handled, father. please just worry about yourself..i’m gonna make things better.”
“the ones who ask for nothing in return want the most. please just do as i say, it’s all i ask.” you wonder why he sounds so desperate, and it makes you sad. but you also know what you’re doing is for him! you can deal with whatever consequences may come.
“just finish eating, father. i’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
your idea of “dealing with it” isn’t much of anything. in fact, when you go out on the boat again, you find that your eyes are desperately searching for the man in the water.
like the day before, you find him once again while you’re knuckle deep in the water, setting up your net. his head pokes up about a foot from your hands, “came to see me again?”
you jump, dropping the net completely in the water and fumbling to get it back. you forget that somebody is already in the water. “a warning would be nice!”
he hands you the net anyway, with a prideful smirk on his face. “forgive me. i was just too eager to see you i guess.”
“are you really? or just being sarcastic..”
“what about me is sarcastic?”
you’re appalled that he could even ask such a question. you shake the thought away, and upon seeing his gorgeous face again, you’re reminded of the words your father said the night before. “hey, suguru? are you sure you’re not asking more of me?”
suguru’s expression changes, though you can’t exactly find the right way to explain it, nor analyze it. “i know that you humans have a hard time with deception. but i can assure you, a creature such as myself holds no hospitality.”
he sounds so sincere that to question him otherwise seems absurd. “i don’t understand why you’d simply want my company. i mean, we only just chatted yesterday.”
the smile on his face is even harder to read than his tone, guilt gnaws at you for pressing the question.
suguru speaks before you can apologize and recede your statement. “i think we could learn a lot from each other as two different species. i’m curious about you in particular.”
“have you ever done this for someone else? you know..helped them?” you ask, forgetting you should probably be working. “you seem to know a fair amount about humans.”
suguru doesn’t look pleased at the question, nor does he look angry. it’s a spot of neutrality you still can’t decipher, but you find that the strange feeling is peaceful and hypnotic a way.
“yes, a man.” he leans back in the water, though his sharp eyes are still sapped onto you. “he was a kind man, with the most bizarre white hair i’ve ever seen. i didn’t know such a thing was possible for a human.”
“..was he old?”
“you think so lowly of my intelligence, darling.” he’s practically purring, but it’s clear he’s focused on his story again. “we had a disagreement. he thought i was taking too much from him, and so he fled.”
you frown at the load of information, but you can’t quite understand it. “too much? you’re practically asking for nothing, suguru.”
he nods once, swimming a few inches closer to your boat. you can finally read his expression this time, but only because he wants you to. is stern and serious. “you mustn’t give your time and efforts to people who don’t appreciate it. some people aren’t worth your trust.”
it’s all confusing. the way it’s said makes you picture your father, but you quickly cast the spell out. “thanks, suguru..you’re not the only one giving me advice about trust. i assure you, i’m not naive.”
suguru is smiling again, to which you find you heavily prefer. “i can only protect you so much from in here. all i can do is share my wisdom as a creature who’s seen many things.”
you raise an eyebrow, feeling confused. “you want to protect me?”
his smile stretches into a very kind expression, and his webbed hands are attached to the boat. “i fully intend to.“
you enjoy that answer much more than you should. the fluttering in your stomach can probably be seen through the window of your eyes. “well..if you want to protect me, let’s get to work so i can eat tonight.”
you love him, you’re absolutely certain about that. you’ve never met a man—or a thing—so gentle and kind. he does everything in his power to please you, and yet you still can’t understand why. being spoiled by an oceanic legend was not on your bucket list. but there’s no use in adding something that’s already been crossed off.
whenever he gives you items to keep or to sell, your heart does that dumb flutter that you swear he can see. you’ve only known him for a few days, and yet you’ve never been more sure about anything in your life.
on days like this when fishing comes fairly easy, you’re able to just sit against the edge of your boat, and talk to him for hours.
“no, no! the bubbles are from the carbonation!” you tell him, waving a can of soda in front of his very eyes. his sharp ones, that is.
suguru doesn’t seem too curious by the sight of it. “you know, i see those pesky cans littered all over the sea floor.” he says, a smile stretching across his face. “if i catch you throwing that into the ocean, i might just have to abandon you.”
“now you know better than anyone i wouldn’t do such a thing.” it’s more of a reprimand than anything. you bring the can closer to his face. “want a sip?”
“will this kill me?”
“surely not!”
he takes the can from your hand carefully, it neatly slips against in his webbed fingers. “this looks toxic.” he sighs, squinting inside the can. “where do those bubbles come from again?”
“drink the damn soda!” you demand, because this is a high-stakes, scientific experiment, of course. you watch with focused, unblinking eyes, waiting for his lips to connect to the rim of the can.
when he does, and he tilts his head back, you can tell when it hits his tongue from the way he stiffens. he chokes on his own saliva, tossing the can a meter away like it set him up. “how vile!” he coughs wetly, trying to scrape the carbonation off his tongue. “you humans and your odd concoctions. i forbid you from drinking that.”
you laugh at his misery like some sadistic monster, and you trace the way he throws the can. “now look who’s littering!” you point, practically snorting. “you’re so dramatic! it’s just a beverage!”
“you’ll find me on the shoreline dead by first light.”
“goodness, i didn’t know you were such a baby!”
dear, diary. where do i even begin? the girl i’ve found is so much softer than i could’ve ever imagined, just her voice makes me want to both sleep and hold her close. such foolish thoughts for a human girl, one i’ve known for such a short period of time, nonetheless.
i’ve never in my lifetime been more fascinated in a human, i crave to know more. the shoreline isn’t the boarder she thinks it is, i’ll find a way to worm myself into more of her time. i’ve just never been so curious, she’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid my eyes on.
my only dilemma during our work together is this god forsaken hunger. i ought to take more fish during our work.
signed, suguru.
“do creatures like yourself have sex?”
the question slips out of your mouth before you even realize it’s left your brain. you don’t even realize you’ve said it aloud until you hear a laugh coming from the water.
fuck!
“i-im so sorry, suguru! believe me, i didn’t mean to—“
“we do. don’t feel ashamed for asking a question. we’re supposed to learn things from each other, aren’t we?” he says, his intense stare never once lingering away from your eyes.
“i suppose you’re right..” you say, wondering if this is the right time for you to ask the question you’ve been wondering the moment you laid eyes on him.
suguru understands your expression immediately, and you find yourself curious about how he can read you so well. especially for a man who doesn’t share a species with you. “you’d like to ask me something, i’m assuming.”
“yes, i would..” you mutter.
his tails splashes up from the water, as if to remind you this isn’t a human you’re interacting with. but his handsome smile only confuses you more. “out with it, then.”
“suguru, what exactly are you?” when you see his smile stay the exact same, you use that as a cue to keep going. “you’re very vague about what creature you are. the curiosity is eating me alive!”
his hand finds the back of his damp neck, he rubs it as if the words you’ve spoken have made him nervous. “i don’t want to tell you.”
“how come?”
“because if i do, you’ll leave.”
you frown when he says that, because how could he anticipate you’d do such a thing after all his help? “suguru, please don’t talk like that. you think so lowly of my care for you! you’ve done so much for me, how could i just leave?”
he clicks his tongue, his eyes darting in every which way. “then give me your word. please?”
“you have my word!” you assure him. “i know you worry after what the last human did to you, but im not like that. i won’t abandon you.”
suguru speaks faster than you expected, the hesitation seems to vanish once you promised him your company would be as everlasting as possible. “i’m a siren.”
you find that you’re less shocked than you should be. and then it hits you. your palm immediately connects with your face, “oh my god! duh—that makes so much sense! how could i be so oblivious!”
suguru is smiling again. “don’t speak of yourself that way. i mean, nobody would expect a siren to be kind to a human. you’d be inclined to think i’m ready to devour you.”
you laugh at that anyway, since the danger of it seems too unreal. “it all makes sense! that’s why i was so lured in by that voice on the beach!”
but..then it started to sink in. a siren, you’ve read plenty about them. as a child, it was all you could do to hope and pray that they didn’t exist! yet here you are, with one right before you, smiling at you like you’re treasure. something about it makes your skin crawl.
he nods calmly, and you can physically see the relief on his features. you note that he’s probably sensed your unease.“i can promise with everything that i won’t devour you.” he says sincerely.
you quickly try to recover. “awh, you don’t want to eat me?”
“not in that way.”
your cheeks feel hot and plump suddenly, and it’s all you can do to awkwardly laugh. he’s such a charming man for one who isn’t exactly that. everything you’ve heard from stories about sirens feels so false. all you know about his diet is how much damn fish he consumes!
“now, for my biggest curiosity..” he trails off, eyes darting to you for permission.
“out with it!” you mimic, sitting up straighter in your little wooden seat. the waves rock you steadily in your boat, and you remind yourself it’s been ages since you’ve enjoyed yourself so much.
“how do human women please themselves? that’s one thing i’ve yet to see.” he says calmly, but you can see in his eyes that he’s eager about something. “sure, i’ve seen couples have sex on boats countless times. but that’s with a man—a penis. so how do—“
“i can show you if you want, suguru.”
his eyes widen slightly, as well as the smile on his face. it turns sly, he looks utterly pleased. “it’d be my honor to watch, darling. but i’d hate to do something you may be uncertain about.
“i’m certain.” you tell him, though your nerves are practically eating at your skin. “you said so yourself, we can learn things from each other.”
he didn’t say anything more. he backs up a bit, then dives underwater. you see glimpses of his gorgeous tail below, though you can’t see it too well. he appears again behind your little boat, and he starts to push it in the direction of a rock.
by the time you realize what he’s doing, you see his figure propped up on the rock before you. at last, you finally get a glimpse of him fully. that tail—that beautiful tail.
it resembles a black beta fish, though there are rips in the fins. in your eyes, at least, it suits him. the color matches his hair perfectly, and you see him even more beautiful than before.
“are you going to teach me? or must you keep staring?” he’s smiling at you, basking in the attention, it seems.
“you’ve never shown me your full body before, that’s all.” you say, eyes drawing a perfect picture of him in your brain for later.
and you do it. you show him. he observes you with such fascination it makes you feel as though you’re the only thing on this earth. he tracks the way your fingers move, his pupils utterly massive. he leans closer to observe, eyes unsure where to track.
and when it’s done, you feel fulfilled.
different. thats the only way to describe a case such as this one. something about suguru looks different. the sharp features on his face seem to have grown even pointer than before, and dark marks have appeared on his cheeks and forehead. and when you see him dive under, you’re almost certain that beautiful tail has gained another rip.
you wave him down mid dive, and he immediately comes to your call. you’re wearing a worried face, but he doesn’t seem to mirror it at all. then again..when have you ever been able to read him?
“suguru..” you start, looking over his face like there’s something missing on it. “are you feeling well today?”
he cocks his head to the side, but his expression doesn’t change. “i’m well, why do you ask? have i worried you?”
“no, no—that’s not it.” you lie horribly. “you just look different today.”
“hideous?”
“now that’s just unfair!”
suguru laughs anyway, staring into your troubled eyes. “i’ve always looked this way, you puzzle me.” he swims backwards a bit, his tail splashing water onto your boat. “perhaps i should go back under so you don’t have to look at my face?”
you frown, not enjoying his humor one bit. “don’t say that, you don’t have to hide from me.” the more you look over his face, the more familiar it seems. “i think i must’ve just slept bad last night. apologies.”
suguru simply hums and nods, diving back under as if the whole interaction never even happened. he’s been so kind to you, to be disturbed by his appearance was to be extremely disrespectful. you can’t expect a siren to stay beautiful forever. he’s not a mermaid.
dear diary, she loves me no longer. she has noticed my features, and she is repulsed by me. i am unsure how to fix this, im sure i have something that can cure this mishap. for now, i must focus solely on pleasing her. she must trust me, and she must love me.
i am intrigued how she noticed so quickly, though i suppose it’s no surprise. my woman is quite intelligent, i must say. it’s one of the main things that fascinates me. human intelligence is a precious thing. i mustn’t let her lose that.
this hasn’t made me lose sight of my role in her life, i don’t think i will ever abandon that. she’s too precious. i suppose ive forgotten how truly fragile humans can be. though that intrigues me the most. i need her. i need her.
immunity is hers.
the days that followed went extremely well. you were making more and more money every day! suguru had a great eye for pearls and whatnot, that’s what brought you the most money.
its the same routine every day, and for once in your life, you feel that things are finally in your control. you have the power over something in your life. you never would’ve imagined such an accomplishment would come from a tragedy such as your father becoming ill.
you have woken up especially early this morning, since you need to purchase a new net before setting out to work. you figure the merchant will have something of decency for you, she’s never once let you down.
the cold, ocean breeze wafts through your lungs with every step you take. few people are walking through the town at this time. nonetheless, you can’t seem to wipe this insistent smile off your face.
but when you arrive, the old woman is not where you expect to find her. usually, she would’ve been standing here awaiting your arrival, with that wrinkly smile on her face, and a crackled tease trapped behind her aching gums.
where could she possibly be?
“hello? miss?” you call out, looking around your surroundings. The few people around you look your way, and about half seem to understand your concerns—they’re all fishers.
you step up to her stand, trying to peer inside. nothing could have ever prepared you for what your eyes lay upon.
she’s in the stand, alright—but she’s on the floor—dead. her face is pale, her mouth agape as blood and foam seeps out of the opening and onto the dusty floor. her eyes are still open, as if she has just dropped dead moments before you came.
she’s deathly quiet. the harsh breathing you typically find when hanging around an old person is gone. it’s so unusually silent—so bleak. the flies have already staked their claim on her, though death has taken her first. such a demise is so unfair, your brain can’t even process the cruelty.
before this situation, perhaps you believed that it’d be hard to tell a person sleeping or dead. but the intense dread, the feeling of complete loss and panic flooding you feels too real to be anything otherwise.
a shallow breath is trapped behind your lungs, your throat feels tight and dry. the color of your irises completely swallow your pupils, though it seems the whiteness of your eyes will swallow them next.
your shaky fingers flex and quake, and you immediately bring them to your wrist to pinch the skin, to awake yourself from whatever twisted, cruel, dream life has thrusted you in when things finally started to look up.
“wake up. wake up, wake up, wake up—“ you don’t get to finish the last thought. a scream comes hurling out of your throat before you can catch it.
how did this happen? did the illness get her? were you next—was your father next? everything felt so confusing. all the joy you had wracked up came crumbling down. how could this be?
you’d never get to tell her about suguru. you’d never get to tell her that you found a man with the most soothing voice of all, one who’s so kind it nearly hurts. you’d never hear her talk about her husband again, or the ocean, or see the way her eyes always softened when she switched from talking to your father to you.
it was gone, it was all gone.
people start to crowd, you look into the ocean. your vision is blurry and dense, but you can still make out the figure watching you.
suguru?
the tragedy in your small fishing town was just beginning. things were changing, things were falling apart. sickness was spreading like wildfire through the town. it picked up from your father, straight to the old woman merchant. and from her to many.
and of all the things you expect, the last thing you anticipate is that you could be blamed for such a thing. you were being shunned in a way, your dreadful ears picked up whispers from the other folks in the town, all of which said it was you who spread the sickness. it was your fault for leaving the house with an ill father.
for two days you stay in your house, and every second of that time you spend in your bed, thoughts swimming through every reason this may be your fault.
because even when you get forced back out, the people you know and their memorized paths are gone. they’re gone, and all you can see is phantom ghosts remaining in every landmark you’d usually smile or wave at.
when you finally get back to work, suguru is awaiting you. he’s far closer to shore than usual, and he’s wearing an extremely worried expression.
“i was so worried you would’ve gotten ill by now.” he suddenly said, both hands finding their way to the edge of your sorry boat. “i’m so relieved. you have no idea.”
just staring at his worried face and remembering everything that happened has you tearing up again. before you can wipe them, tears trickle down your cheeks, right over the dark bags weighing your eyes down.
“everything that could go wrong is going wrong, suguru!” you weep, not daring to look into his eyes. “i feel as though i burden a curse everywhere i go!”
suguru is silent for a while, and he doesn’t even attempt to wipe your tears. “rest assured, my dear, you are not a curse.” he informs you sternly. “you are the most fascinating, lovely thing in my life. if the curse is your undying charm, i am ill with it. you have captured me completely.”
you finally meet his eyes, and you don’t bother arguing with him, as to not disrupt the honesty of both your tears and his lengthy confession. “i appreciate you so much, suguru. i’m unsure how to even word it.”
suguru’s scaly, wet hands cover your shaky ones. and once you really look at him again, you come to the revelation that the features you thought to be peeving and unsettling only days before, blurred into a lovely blend of beauty. he has always been beautiful, he’s always been kind.
you realize how much you really need suguru in your life, he’s the small glisten of a pearl in the darkness that has become your life. you find that the poison of it melts upon every encounter you have with him. he’s healing, in that way.
you latch onto it heavily for a girl who’s never needed such a thing in her life.
the smile on his face is illegible as ever, and yet you find yourself smiling back anyway. “allow me today, my love. you’ve troubled yourself enough.”
my love. such a simple statement for such a stark effect. it comes to your senses that you’re sick with something else.
love.
such woe in the village my pearl is forced to inhabit. i mustn’t sit around and watch her suffer any longer. i must save her from the curse that is humanity, it won’t do her any good. she’s so happy with me, i never once saw such glee in her face elsewhere.
that father of hers weighs her, this forsaken town weighs her. i could give her trouble no longer, and yet..she clings to this useless place.
she seems to be immune to this disease, which is everything i could hope for. even if something did occur, i could fix her.
signed, suguru.
why, why?
why does everything feel wrong? why do you awake with a sense of impending doom and paranoia every hour of the night? why do your legs falter and tremble as you walk the streets? why are your eyes so unfocused?
but most of all..why do you mistrust suguru?
perhaps it’s the force of everyone else mistrusting you, not to mention perishing around you. but suguru has been nothing but good to you, the feeling alone makes guilt gnaw at your body like a vulture does a carcass. he’s on your mind almost all the time, which isnt to say it’s differed much from before in that way. but..the thoughts are different.
every day you feel he’s changed. physically, that is. his beta tail once so beautiful is more torn than ever. the rips and tears once so poetic, now just look dark. purposeful. ugly.
his teeth look sharper, his eyes look darker, where had the light gone? dark spots have appeared on his upper body and face, far more than before. if he hadn’t assured you otherwise, you would’ve thought he was rotting from the inside out.
so to say you’ve grown suspicious is to fit a wicked tale into a twenty-second radio commercial. the most jarring thought of them all is the fact that the disease didn’t spread until you started accepting things he’d given you. and when you went to sell them, something just felt off.
but suguru wouldn’t intentionally give you infected things, that’s simply not plausible.
he loves you, and any chance of you being harmed is something better for the dumpster. so why does he look at you like that when you weep about the state of the village. he never looks angry, per say, just stiff.
“suguru, are you sure you’re okay?” you ask him, avoiding his eyes as you haul up another net of fish. “you look so sickly lately, i’m almost concerned you’ve caught the sickness.”
suguru laughs gently, “you wound me, sweetheart. if my appearance ails you so much, you might as well stick that net right over my horrid face.”
you frown. “don’t say such things. nothing about you ails me.”
it’s a lie, and it tastes so bitter on your tongue. he catches on anyway.
“you know better than to lie to me, don’t you?” you jump once you realize how close he is to your boat. “i’ve done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. your loss of trust appalls me.”
“that isn’t fair.” you accuse, your emotions are starting to spike far higher than you want them to. you don’t want to lash out at suguru, you don’t want any of this. but it feels as though there’s a hook down your throat forcing everything out. “you don’t get to decide how i act, not when i’ve got so much tragedy in my life!”
“your tongue bears complaints of your life. and yet you won’t let me save you.” his eyes have narrowed, his tone has gone harsh in a way you haven’t heard before. it scares you. he’s scaring you.
“i’ve done so much for you, ive been here every step. why do you reject me, my love? why do you resist my help when it is all that you need?” his sharp teeth are barred, and you think him nothing more than a beast.
“suguru..” his voice comes out like a whimper, a whisper. “please, you’re scaring me..”
“you are a naive woman. you trust all but the one man that can help you. the one man that can free you from this hell!” he has propped himself up on your boat, tipping it to his weight.
you fall back as the boat lurches to one side. tears pool down your cheeks like heavy waterfalls. you find yourself grateful for them, for they blur the horrifying truth before your very eyes. “you are no man, suguru!” you cry, weakly trying to kick him off the edge of your boat with your bare, clumsy feet. “you are nothing but a monster!”
suguru laughs bitterly, grabbing your ankle and yanking you towards him. you scream, high pitched and piercing. but who has time for your moment of tragedy when they’re so busied with their own?
“a monster, am i?” you stare at him, eyes gaping wide and pupils no bigger than a minuscule fish egg. “i wonder what that makes you, my dear.”
“don’t call me that, you ghastly thing!” you struggle, wildly kicking at his too-strong arms, but you realize you’re unable to kick his face. the face once so soft and caring, was now a concoction of cruelty and something so inhuman you deem it unable to belong anywhere. such a thing is unfit for even hell.
hell was the world you lived in, you simply could not coexist.
“i am nothing compared to you!” you practically scream, sobbing so hard you feel as though your lungs are trying to claw a hole through your chest. your heart drums against your chest so persistently it feels pretend, it burns through your dreadful veins. “you are a despicable, monstrous, demon! i have done nothing to deserve this!”
you can only sob, even escaping feels so unjust, so jarring. “why must this happen to me. why can’t i be happy? why can’t i just live?!” you kick at him. “why do i have a monster yanking at my leg! and why does it hurt so bad!”
suguru knows better than to register such a statement as physical pain. it’s apparent even someone as strong as you can’t handle such a betrayal. “oh, but you’ve done much to deserve this.”
he holds you still, and the eye contact you share with him no longer gives you butterflies, it’s something closer to venom. the black hair dipping over his shoulders feels too dark, too fitting for the blackness now rooted in your heart. the gashes of rot on his face feel adjacent to every daring, hurtful word he’s said. as if this moment had been preplanned, and dished out right in front of your face like a buffet laced in poison.
like a beautiful pearl before you, swindled into complete, pearly perfection. only to be something monstrous in all actuality.
his voice snaps you out of your miserable trance. “you are at fault for the disease in this town. it is you who brought it past the shore.” there’s an ugly grin on his face. “such a rotten girl you are..putting cursed items right into the palms of that innocent old woman.”
you can’t breathe—you can’t breathe at all. every breath of air dodges your lungs. the truth of your worldly hell came so fast, and so unbearably sleek. all this time you’ve been wondering why this has happened, what everyone did to deserve such a horrible fate?
but the truth has been in front of you all along. it’s your fault, it always has been.
the image of the poor, old woman dead before your very eyes floods your mind once again. her ajar mouth, the foam seeping out. the pale, sickly skin that looked similar to the sorry flesh of a shark. despair has tattooed all you can see, all you are. it’s gotten your eyes, your tongue, your heart, your very soul. you feel as though your sole purpose is to wound, to kill, to dispose, to sicken.
your lungs feel like they’ve trapped carbon into every crevice, taking a breath doesn’t seem human anymore. it doesn’t seem fitting, it doesn’t seem deserved. you’re thrust carelessly into a barbaric, theatrical production. all the souls you’ve been responsible for departing from the earth scream at you, they wail and beg for their lives back. for the burning in their lungs to seize, for their coughs to subside. you’re at the center of the spotlight, and even more so, you’re the villain.
not the monster before you. just you. only you.
and after all of that, after you feel your whole world crashing down before your very eyes, all you can croak out is a pathetic: “…what?”
“oh? is that all you can say?” he has stopped pulling you towards him, but he continues to hold you still. you couldn’t move even if it willed you. “what do you have to say for all the blood on your hands? do you still think yourself purely innocent?”
a shaky sob wracks your body, and the ocean breeze makes your tears feel frigid against your cheeks. the muscles in your face ache from the strain of despair, so much so that you almost can’t take it. “nobody in their right mind thinks that way! i thought i could trust you!”
suguru looks at you curiously, and you quickly remember the clouded view of humanity he has absorbed throughout his life.
“well, who in their right mind trusts what a siren has to say? even after i revealed myself..you stayed.” oh, how you hate this man—this thing.
“you’re the source of the disease, suguru. you’ve diseased these people just like you’ve diseased my life!” he smiles, “you set me up! how was i supposed to know you cursed what i was selling!”
suguru’s sharp eyes are attached to your teary ones, and neither of you can look away. “how unreasonable. it’s not your people’s fault you’re so naive.”
“i didn’t make this disease!”
“you spread it.”
something in your head seems to click, it must’ve been audible since suguru raised his eyebrow at you. or maybe it’s because your frantic sobbing has nearly seized. “wait..wait wait wait..” your breath hitches, your soul latches onto your veins, your eyes focus on the webbed hand holding you hostage. “my father. he was sick before i started to sell things.”
when you finally meet suguru’s eyes, he’s smiling again. and for once in your whole time meeting him, you know what that smile means. there are no words needed to narrate it any longer.
“suguru..what the hell did you do to my father?”
his hand caresses your calf, but in your mind it just burns. “what i had to, my darling. how would i have gotten you alone with him in the way?” he doesn’t stop upon seeing the horror on your face. “you’re a lucky woman. i kept him alive for you.”
you can’t scream anymore. you can hardly even take a breath. every emotion permeating throughout your body feels staged and dull, and you find that you’re back to the start. where everything just feels wrong.
the sky seems to open up. the gods, the victims of that damned illness, the folks from your town, they all point their accusing fingers at you and laugh. you’re a fool. you are a laughing stock produced by your own naivety. everybody who’s suffered because you let this creature get close tear away at your skin—your autonomy. you feel it, you feel it all peeling off your body. your thoughts, your will to keep going in this life.
your body is stuck in an apology it’s unsure how to process. terror is lodged so deep inside your stomach it churns and creates an illness of its own brewing inside your gut. your brain is a stop motion, every clip being one of suguru. one where you should’ve realized something was off, where you missed what was right in front of your face.
you died with the others in your village, with the old woman. and what you see now is the surroundings of your new reality—some layer of hell you could’ve never even imagined. your heart, your organs—they’re all boiling in your blood. deep, ferocious anger bubbles throughout your body like a toxic gas.
“i’m starting to understand something, suguru.”
“and what’s that?” he purrs. too easy, too eager.
“why satoru ran away from you.”
suguru’s smile doesn’t vanish immediately. its a slow, startling uncurl of his lips. the sharp pearls of his teeth are nowhere to be seen. he doesn’t speak for a long while, he just stares at you with those damned eyes. those very eyes you thought to be so gentle, now just looked hungry. it wouldn’t surprise you if he leaped out of the water and took a clean bite out of your weary head.
“you’ve got so much to understand, my love.” you dread the way his smile almost comes back, it makes you nauseous. “and i’ll be the one to show you.”
you don’t get to reply, you don’t get to argue. before any thought of such a thing comes to your head, you’re already being dragged off your boat. salt water engulfs all your senses, all you can feel, hear, and smell is the sick concoction of guilt and freezing water swallowing you whole. the burn in your head is agonizing. though you wonder..why aren’t you drowning?
all you can see is the unmistakable sight of suguru. his torn tail, his sharp eyes, his beautiful hair that you used to love so much. it distracted you from the water swirling around you, the way you seem to sink deeper and deeper into an unknown abyss.
into somewhere out of your control.
a purple light illuminates the space between you and the monster. when has a pearl ever glowed like that? there’s a thick feeling latching onto your skin, and you feel like your soul is being pulled right from your pores. maybe it is.
“you don’t understand, my love. i must do this so i don’t devour you. so i can keep you.” of course, of course this was happening.
the last thing you see before it all goes black, is the beautiful string of suguru’s smile. for that would be the last thing you’d see as a human.
june.
waves crash against the dock bordering the village. the ocean breeze wafts through the small shops lining the road—just as before. nothing has changed, really. the disease managed to seize itself for unknown reasons, and almost all the people have gotten healthy again. whats more unknown is where such a horrid illness came from.
i myself have gotten healthy. as someone who was the first to inhabit such a disease, i feel blessed and guilty.
i’ve gotten back to work, busying myself with bringing home money for one. my daughter has mysteriously disappeared, and i had been too sick to even notice. i took longer than a father should have. i miss my daughter.
i miss her.
the routine is the same. catch. sell. buy. repeat. but it feels so off. it doesn’t feel right without her by my side. i can’t sleep at night knowing she could be somewhere out there. or even worse, dead. i know that i’ve failed.
the ocean is sparkling more today, and i acknowledge that i see my daughter in every beautiful thing in sight. in the flowers, the waves that aren’t too tall, and the beautiful pearls being sold to anyone who can afford them. i never thought to buy pearls, i’m sure she would’ve loved to have a nice string for herself.
perhaps she has them wherever she may be.
the sun nearly dips below the sea entirely before i realize i should head back. i look into the ocean once again, as if to say goodbye.
peeking out of the water is the head of a woman, and a few feet away is a beautiful fin. she looks so much like my daughter that it makes me nauseous. she’s got her hair. her eyes. her nose. her smile. she is looking at me, though something about her features seem so vacant. i blink to reset whatever hallucination may be before me, only to see that nothing is there.
how peculiar, oceanic creatures have always intrigued my daughter.
NOTE: kinda posting this impulsively..! i’m not really back yet, but my moment of weakness has motivated me to finish this piece. i know it’s kinda buns but i hope you guys can enjoy it! <3
Yandere that enjoys having a willing darling, but their darling is absolutely a feral beast that they’re kind of scared of.
They attempt to go check on you where you’ve been locked up in the basement, but you’re standing by the stairs in the dark, wide eyes bloodshot and nails digging into the wall.
Absolutely not, yandere slams the door and almost pisses their pants.
You kind of haunt the house. Yandere still loves you but you’ve somehow become more unhinged than them. Too many times they’ve tried to intimidate you but you’ve started growling like a rabid dog. How are they supposed to deal with that?
genAI companies are now buying up rare and antique books so they can scan them and use them to train their AI. then they're destroying the books afterward.
AI companies are quietly obtaining rare books, ingesting their contents, and then destroying them -- even if they're exceedingly rare.
they've had to face settlements against stealing from current authors, so they'll just go for the old books now. they're also doing this so they have the only copies of rare books.
they're taking water, power, natural resources for their data centers. they steal. they're book burning, essentially. i'm just so angry, i'm at a loss right now.
Welcoming liutenant!Nanami home from the military ♡
Hii, really tired lately and swimming in my hiatus sooo sorry for any gramatical errors, my brain is fried and i haven't written in months.
No tags, just heart warming daddy nanami fluff.
Haven't proofread, if u see the word yuji anywhere, you didn't.
You'd be lying if you said your heart wasn't in your throat right now, because all you can feel is it's irregular heartbeat pounding against the walls of your warm chest where three-month-old Rosie, your newborn daughter, is cocooned against.
She's sleepy and so is her older brother—Arthur who is following behind your rushed footsteps.
The car ride was pretty long from your house in the city to the graduation ceremony spot, so you tightly hold your baby girl in your arms as you weave through the rows and rows of perfectly straightened up soldiers clad in their signature uniforms, buzzed heads, and stoic faces.
You know you're bound to break once you find your Kento, he has always looked criminally hot with his serious face.
Husband!Nanami knocked you up when you were 17 by pure accident, you were both tipsy at a frat party he had no idea how he even ended up at while you were dragged there by your then-group of friends.
And one drink seemed innocent on your side, then it didn't when you kept taking down shots of tequila after shots of tequila just to prove to your social circle that you weren't the loser they painted you as.
On the other side, Kento was always reserved, a straight A student, picture perfect. Awkward, very, hence why at 18 he had no girlfriend. So when Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru found out, they were adamant on not letting their good friend graduate a virgin.
Nanami was 18, and it was at said party where he had his first ever drink. And he swore it would be his last after he woke up next morning in his bedroom with a girl lying next to him completely nude.
It was scandalous. How could the organized, determined, role model boy get a junior pregnant? —Even more, a girl he had never crossed paths with?
How many drinks had you both ingested at the party for you to not remember anything from that night?
To this day, you don't know the answer, but you ended up finding out months after the party that they were way too many.
Because you were only 17 when you woke up one day with plans to attend the senior's graduation because some friends of yours were graduating, said plans needed a raincheck after you spent the majority of the morning throwing up your guts.
Yeah, you didn't dare to tell anyone you were pregnant.
But you attended the graduation, sat on the bleachers far far away from where you observed Nanami in his traditional dark blue cap and gown walk the stage, receive his diploma, plaster a tight smile on his face and close this chapter of his life.
It was then when you realized that you couldn't forcibly keep him in this phase of life because you wanted to keep the child. So you let him walk away without ever letting him know he left a small part of him without strings within you.
There were rumors that he was going off the the military first before chasing a career in finance. He had it all set out for him. You weren't sure you were even going finish high school.
Nanami left, got into the military, studied for a finance degree there.
You saw the pictures, and noticed the striking ressemblance between your then-three-year-old Archie and his father.
And swallowed the grief that build in you throat that grew whenever you thought about what a good life your son could've had if you weren't a coward at 17. You were only a child though.
At 18, he went into the forces like everyone gossiped about. After about 4 years, you found out through old classmates that had too much time on their hands that became a respectable figure— a lieutenant.
A weird feeling of proudness surged within you whenever you'd hear how well things were going with the father of your child whom you knew nothing of besides his name, age and career. Deep down, you were at least happy that if you were gone, Archie wouldn't end up with a deadbeat father.
On your side, at 18 you started taking on all kinds of jobs to keep your head above the water. Ranging from being a housekeeper, a babysitter, receptionist to even a taxi driver— you did everything you possibly could as a single mother to sustain your son.
You never finished high school, dropped out and ran away from home before your parents could skin you alive for the mistake you had made. But you have never regretted having Arthur, he became the light in your life, your sun.
Thankfully though, at one of your hotel jobs, your manager would let you bring little Archie when business was slow and not many people were checking in for the day.
It was an ordinary Wednesday when the reunion happened.
The hotel's big glass windows had raindrops racing down them, the sky was grey, covered in beautiful pale clouds. You were the only one responsible for the lobby that day.
And he came in without a single clue that his life was about to change drastically after a small interaction with the receptionist. At that time, he was still in his uniform, only missing his hat which was tightly clasped in his hand.
A heavy backpack on his back, and a tired expression on his face. Just a second before casting his eyes on you, his hand wrapped around the base of his neck and he unbuttoned a few buttons just to breathe.
When he finally met your eyes, you felt your stomach convulse, your pulse shoot to your temples.
"Y/N?-"
"Mama!"
And the world stopped when Nanami Kento recognized you. It didn't continue spinning, not when your son came running, a perfect copy of the soldier in front of you.
Archie knocked into Nanami's legs on the way to your behind the counter.
Slowly, foggy, thoughtful hazel eyes ripped away from yours and gazed down onto the little boy at his legs with the same dusty blonde atop his head, the same eyes and soft smile.
The rest is history.
Between coffee dates, paperwork, a wedding and mending the cracks, you got your family.
And you're utterly, foolishly in love with your son's father.
Who knew things would turn out this way?
However, at 25, just as you were both settling into the peaceful, domestic life you both were building, Nanami was called back into the marines.
You said nothing, but he was to be gone for 4 years.
You said nothing because you knew that if you told him, he'd stay.
So you let him go.
Now, the day has come for him to finally come home and be yours forever. With no more distractions. Just you and him, weekend mornings with warm sunlight filtering through the curtains, a sleepy toddler on your shoulder, coffee quietly brewing and pastries on the counter.
By now, you've passed Gojo and Geto who you're surprised to see have also been called back in—Kento once revealed that they served their time with him, actually.
You send a respectful nod their way while Archie waved to his uncles the fastest he could as you rapidly scanned the lined up men for your man.
From far away, you catch a towering bundle of ashy blonde hair and you know you've found your husband. Your steps become steady, rhythmic as you feel anticipation crawl under your skin.
About one row away from him, you turn around and hold Rosie with one arm so you can hold Archie's hand. Turning the corner at the end of the line, you land in Nanami's row and immediately spot him.
Hands tightly clasped behind his back, chest out, standing tall. Chin up. And your heartbeat falters.
He looks handsome as ever.
Archie is the first to react, dropping your hand and immediately darting over to his father—yet, not touching. Observing. Watching how his serious father doesn't even look down at him.
Not touching yet because he knows, even at twelve years old, that this is your moment. You hesitate on the way to your boys, feeling your bones grow heavy at the sight of all you ever wanted in front of you.
Once you reach your husband, you stand in front of him, silently peering up at his sculptured face, taking in everything—every surface of skin, the color of his eyes against the sunset, those soft lips you have the privilege to kiss.
Oh how you missed him. Your eyes well up with tears as your neck stays craned up to his height. Little Rosie coos in your hold as if she has any idea how meaningful this moment is.
And even though she's only seen him once, when she was born three months ago—she knows it's her daddy.
Kento isn't the kind to be emotional, he's hardly ever vulnerable around you, but you're so sure you can see his waterline fill just a tad bit with tears as he fights the urge to break protocol and hug you before you tap him out.
Your son is anxiously waiting to hug his father by your side. You take a bit more time to ease the man into his new life. Free from the battlefield, drills, noise.
Around you, almost everyone has been set free.
It's your turn to be happy.
Rosie shifts around, you gently reposition her so she faces her father with her sleepy eyes and puffy cheeks. She's a delicate, female copy of him that carries just a bit more of your genes.
She's perfect.
You whisper to her. "Rosie, this is your papa." Taking her little hand, her soft fingers wrap around one of yours and the same hazel eyes your husband has stare back at him with utter bewilderment.
"Should we welcome him home?" You softly ask her, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. She babbles.
Finally, you look up at him.
"Welcome home, honey."
And press a fragile kiss to his cheek.
A tear rolls down Kento's cheek as he snaps out of formation, big arms wrapping around your waist. You angle your baby so she's not smushed between the bone crushing hug you're in.
From the sidelines, Archie is pulled into the hug too by his father who doesn't leave the purchase he's found in the crook of your neck.
Nanami breathes you in. He breathes in your scent, he lets your comforting presence seep into his bones, free him from his sins. Wrap him in warmth.
He doesn't want to let go. No, he wants his arms to melt into your skin and for him to live within you until the world fades. Until the present and past fade, so only the pure love he has for you survives through the future.
Reluctantly, his arms unhook from your midsection. You glance down at him and watch him pull his spine tall then rake his eyes over you. Taking in every change in your body.
The plumpness of your breast, the wideness of your hips from the pregnancy. How well your sundress compliments you, how well it hugs the body he longs for every night.
He's never had the chance to see you like this. Never had the opportunity to see you glowing, tired, so beautiful after having his children. But he quickly pushes his thoughts aside, it's not the time or place to be thinking such things.
But you see every ounce of reverence behind his eyes, just how much he has been longing, yearning, missing you. Just like you have been for him.
You see him glimpse at Rosie and feel his heartbeat stop through the buds of your fingertips that rest against his chest.
Your mind goes back to the hospital room three months ago. When he called out of work for an emergency since you went into labor and showed up at the hospital in no time despite being halfway across the country.
When he became your lifeline as you brought your daughter into the world, not alone this time.
Then when his hands shook as he held his daughter like she's made from the prettiest of stars in every existing galaxy.
Now, his hands still shake as he takes her from your arms. Even after years of training in the military, even when Nanami is a skilled, strong and calculated man, he's reduced to putty under his daughter's soft eyes.
Nanami loves. He loves your son, your daughter, his friends, his parents, pastries, freshly baked bread, calculated decisions, great outcomes, peace, but he loves you the most out of everything.
The woman whose name he has tattooed on his forearm, but who he holds closest to his heart.
Archie decides he has enough of waiting, hugging his father's leg. Kento ruffles his head once he snaps out of his trance.
You watch them with a soft smile plastered across your face, insides warm and fuzzy.
Find all other reports here!
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Good morning everyone!
Well, I got almost all of my furniture sold yesterday! Apparently, people are fiending for cheap couches. That took a massive weight off of me though.
Side note, I can't wait for this whole mess to be over so I can get back to regularly scheduled programming. I have a lot of fanfic ideas filed away and I'm itching to work on them. But Valko comes first.
A few reminders as we get closer to July 29th:
— Avoid interacting with antis and malicious posts
— Be wary of misinformation and rumors
— It is not a deadline. It's a checkpoint
Apparently, antis showed up outside of the Infold building again. On the one hand, I can't believe they're still using tactics like this. On the other hand, if they're resorting to this, clearly they think there's a possibility of them losing.
There is a new donation effort for "Ar sirdi delnā," a shelter in Latvia that is currently without power. They rely entirely on donations, and they need help to continue providing veterinary care. Here is a direct link to the donation site.
We've been trending on X for more than 3 weeks straight. Can we contact Guinness World Records or something?
Polls are still running on Weibo and X. If you can access either, I highly encourage you to vote on them! I've linked one of the X polls below.
We have almost 7,000 letters for Valko! If you haven't written one yet, you can use the link below to send one in.
来自53个国家和地区的160份心意，在铃兰与绿意之间相遇。World letters for Valko, with love.
Well, we've been at this for almost a month. I know we're sick and tired and getting restless, but we can't give up now!
The antis may seem loud right now, but remember that we have numerous articles (some by CN state media), thousands of CN players, huge petitions, and an ongoing protest on our side. Things are still working in our favor. Don't lose hope!
nanami and his pathetic crush on you as the bakery girl 𓂃🪶
nanami’s entire week is secretly built around the few minutes he gets to stand at your bakery counter. he’s a man of logic, but there is no logic in the way his heart does a little stutter-step when he pushes the door open and the bell chimes. he tells himself it’s the reliable coffee, the consistent quality of the croissants. a lie he cherishes.
he has a favorite version of you. it’s the one he sees on wednesdays, when you wear your hair in a slightly messy bun with a pencil stuck through it. he once saw you use that pencil to fix the strap of your apron and the image hasn’t left him since. he thinks you look most like yourself then, comfortable and unguarded.
he doesn’t just take the croissant you give him. he treasures it. he’ll sit at his small table and break off pieces, eating it slowly to make the moment last. he once saw you accidentally drop a sprinkle on the floor and do a little hop-skip to avoid squishing it. the image is burned into his mind, played on a loop during boring meetings. it makes him press his lips together to stop a completely inappropriate smile.
his crush is so obvious it’s almost embarrassing. he’s started buying pastries he doesn’t even like—a bright pink cupcake with a mountain of frosting—just so he can ask you a question about it. "is this… excessively sweet?" he’ll ask, his brow furrowed like he’s conducting a serious survey. he just wants to hear you laugh and say, "only a little!"
one day, a child in line ahead of him is crying because they’re out of chocolate chip cookies. you look genuinely distraught. as nanami collects his order, he sees you quickly scribble something on a napkin. you slide it to him with his coffee. drawn in pen is a little cartoon croissant wearing a cape, holding a chocolate chip cookie like a shield. underneath, it says "a hero’s snack! thank you for your patience :)". he keeps that napkin. it lives in the breast pocket of his suit, right over his heart. he sometimes touches it through the fabric when his day is particularly long.
the grand confession happens on a perfectly ordinary tuesday. you’re handing him his coffee when your fingers brush and, for once, neither of you pull away. his hand is so much larger than yours, warm and steady. you look up, surprised.
he doesn’t let go. he just holds your fingers there, on the warm cardboard cup, his thumb resting gently on your knuckle.
"this is becoming a problem," he says, his voice low and incredibly soft. you panic for a second, thinking you’ve done something wrong.
"the coffee? i’m so sorry, i can—"
"no," he interrupts, his thumb giving the tiniest, most heart-stopping stroke against your skin. "my concentration. it’s gone. i can’t read a report without wondering if you prefer the rain or the sun. i schedule my entire day around a three-minute interaction that i play over in my head for hours afterward." he takes a slow breath, his ears turning pink. "you have, quite illogically, become my favorite part of the day. and it would be… most efficient… if i could take you to dinner to discuss this further."
he’s still holding your hand. he’s just confessed in the most nanami way possible, by complaining about how much he likes you. and it’s so perfectly him, so sincere and flustered and sweet, that you think your heart might actually dissolve into a puddle of pure, sugary fluff right there on the bakery floor.
⚠️ This is hand drawn. Do not use without permission or get rid of my watermark or I will have to reupload with a bigger, uglier one. I want to continue sharing my art with the community, so if you’d like to support me please give me a reblog and/or follow!
At this point everything that needs to be said has already been said by everyone else. I know there have been problems with how PG/IF has been developing the game (ie. not updating the chocolate shop, not developing the other characters as much as the newer ones, etc.) but I was honestly very excited for a new character because he seemed interesting. You can want a new character AND want for things to be better in the game; those two things are not mutually exclusive.
I hope they bring him back someday. Of course he’ll never take Sylus’ number one spot for me, and he probably wouldn’t have knocked Zayne off as my number two either, but I was eager for the update before they nuked it. And to be honest, after they cancelled him I haven’t even played the kitchen update at all because it just doesn’t catch my interest in comparison to what could’ve been.
I think I’m literally never gonna be sick of this masterpiece. I think watching it on a loop for eight hours could fix me. Dancing’s what clears my soul. Dancing’s what makes me whole.
I just love that this very video is an accumulation of thousands of years worth of art made by people who have never met each other. The concept of this video was so completely unfathomable to every single artist who made the sculptures and yet they’ve all put something toward the creation of it.
The moment you crack your eyes open is the moment you realize that something is wrong. Not wrong in a dreadful kind of way but wrong enough to pull you out of your dreams, even though it’s Sunday and you have nowhere to be today – except right here, snuggled into your blanket, next to your boyfriend, who had cuddled you to sleep the night before with all the diligence he could muster.
With a quiet groan, you press your hand against your lower stomach and swing your legs out of bed. Your steps are barely audible as you tiptoe out of the bedroom, making a beeline for the bathroom. Of course it had to come today. Not three days prior, like your tracker had told you, or tomorrow when you at least could’ve gone out to stock up on supplies, painkillers and maybe chocolate. (Though, knowing Valko, there’s at least one chocolate bar in the snack drawer, possibly more.)
You barely make it to the sink when the next wave of pain hits you, and this time, it feels like some invisible entity has reached right into your abdomen and squeezed. Hard.
A soft gasp escapes you as you reach out to steady yourself and wait for the cramp to pass. Only then do you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. Tired eyes and sallow skin greet you, and you grimace at yourself before opening the cabinet next to the sink to look for supplies, silently praying to find at least enough to get you through this day. Your gaze scans the shelves, only to pause and then check again. The small basket is full, although you could’ve sworn that you forgot to actually pick these things up during your last trip to the drugstore. And yet, here they are – your preferred brand, too.
“Odd,” you mumble but decide to wonder about it later. For now, the only thing that matters is that you have more than enough and won’t have to worry about running out.
***
In the bedroom, Valko stirs awake. With his eyes still closed, he rolls over and reaches out, expecting his hand to meet your warmth like every morning, but instead he’s only touching air. He cracks one eye open. Your side of the bed is empty. There’s a dent in your pillow and your duvet is pushed back carelessly, although he’s pretty sure you told him yesterday that you planned to spend the entire morning in bed.
But then again, maybe you’ve just gotten up to get a glass of water, and so, Valko waits.
Only when you haven’t returned fifteen minutes later does he realize that you’re not actually coming back to bed, and he sighs. You promised him cuddles the day prior and now you have disappeared into thin air? This is unacceptable.
He sits up and rubs his eyes, then stretches his arms over his head before slipping out of bed. With a yawn, he pads out into the hallway, then follows the familiar scent of your face cream into the kitchen where he finds you leaning against the counter with one arm wrapped around your stomach.
“Sweetheart,” he says, keeping his voice low so as not to startle you. He stops right behind you, his arms gently wrapping around your midsection and pulling you back against him. “Cramps?” he mumbles as he nuzzles against your hair. He’s seen this before, and he knows the first day is usually the worst for you.
“Mh,” is all you reply before you inhale sharply when another cramp hits you. “It’s… really bad today.”
“I figured,” Valko says and leans in further to press a kiss to your temple. “You should go back to bed.”
“No, I was just about to make breakfast.”
“I can do that.”
You let out a quiet sound, maybe your attempt at a huff that got cut off by another whimper of pain. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Valko insists and carefully places his hands on your shoulders to turn you around so that you have to face him. “You’re in pain. Go back to bed and let me take care of this. I’ve got you.”
You bury your face into his chest for a moment, mumbling something inaudible. Valko laughs quietly. “For the sake of my sanity, I’m going to pretend you just agreed with me. Now go.”
Valko gives you another gentle squeeze before he releases you from his embrace and watches you padding down the hallway. Your steps are heavier than usual, your movements a little more careful, and there’s a tightness in your shoulders that suggests that the pain is worse than you want to let on. Which honestly baffles him a little bit – you’re his girlfriend, you shouldn’t feel the need to hide your discomfort from him. But then again, you have always been stubborn, especially with letting someone take care of you.
Well. It’s not like that’s going to stop him from pampering you today.
With that thought in mind, Valko gets to work. He fills your water bottle, grabs the hot water bottle as well as pain medication from the cabinet in the hallway and brews a cup of your favorite tea. Once that’s done, he prepares two slices of plain toast because he knows that despite being hungry, the pain sometimes makes you nauseous. Still, he retrieves one of his favorite chocolate bars from the snack drawer, just in case you’re craving something sweet, before grabbing the tray and making his way back to the bedroom.
You have already curled up in bed again, your knees drawn up to your chest as if to make yourself as small as possible. Even though you’re buried under your duvet, he can tell that you’re shivering, and he carefully sets the tray down on the nightstand before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Hey,” he says softly. “I brought a hot water bottle and ibuprofen if you want some.”
You don’t answer right away, and for a moment the only sound in the room is the quiet ticking of the radiator. Eventually, though, you reach out for the painkillers.
Once they’re washed down, you settle back into the small mountain of pillows that always seem to migrate to your side of the bed, even though at least one of them definitely belongs to Valko. On a better day, he probably would’ve teased you about it. But today, he only wraps the hot water bottle in a towel before easing the edge of the duvet back just enough to slide the warmth against your stomach. “There,” he mumbles. “Better?”
You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
He smooths the duvet back over you, but instead of getting up, he lingers on the edge of the mattress. After a few quiet seconds, you shift toward him. “Will you stay?”
His expression softens. “Sunshine, you don’t even have to ask.” He slips beneath the covers beside you, careful not to jostle you, and opens his arms in silent invitation. You curl into him almost immediately, resting your forehead against his chest while he wraps you in a loose embrace. One hand rubs slow circles between your shoulder blades; the other settles lightly over the hot water bottle to keep it in place.
“Try to get some sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll be right here.”
You give the smallest nod before you burrow your face deeper into the soft cotton of his shirt. His heartbeat is slow and even beneath your ear, and before long, the familiar sound, paired with the soothing warmth surrounding you, has carried you into the land of dreams.
***
When you wake again, nothing has changed except the light. You’re still tucked against Valko, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders while his free hand holds his phone to check his work emails. However, as he notices you stirring, his attention is immediately on you. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Feeling a little better?”
“Mhm.” You shift until you can look at him properly, your mind still pleasantly foggy from sleep and the blissful absence of pain. “I noticed something. This morning, I mean. Did you, by any chance, restock my period basket?”
Valko’s expression remains neutral, as though you’ve asked him whether he locked the front door last night. “Yeah.”
“Really?”
He nods. “I noticed you were running low a couple of days ago. I picked up the same brand you usually buy, another box of ibuprofen, those little heat patches you sometimes use…” He pauses, thinking. “Snacks, too. There’s plenty of stuff in the kitchen if you get hungry later.”
Something in your chest tightens with the quiet realization that he'd not only noticed these little things, but had quietly made sure you had everything you needed before you even realized you were running low. “I… thank you.”
Valko just smiles. “It’s no big deal. You don’t have to look at me like I did something extraordinary. I just went to the drugstore, sunshine.”
“Maybe not to you,” you say, unable to return the smile without feeling your throat tighten. Stupid hormones, really. They always make you a bit emotional on the first day. “To me, it is.”
Valko brushes a loose strand of hair from your forehead. His gaze is soft as he shifts and gathers you against his chest as if that’s where you were always meant to be, one hand settling at the small of your back, the other right between your shoulder blades. You melt into him with a contented sigh, feeling lighter than you had all day.
Maybe the cramps would come back. Maybe tomorrow would still be miserable.
But right now, wrapped in his arms, you can’t be bothered with worrying about that.
Thank you for reading! 🫶🏻 Feedback and reblogs would mean a lot to me. Requests are also currently open.
Hello! Your writing and stories are so like reassuring and fun to read. What about lads with pregnant reader?
lots of love!🤍
Hello! I was back and forth a little on this one on if I was going to write it or not because it's just on the verge of things I am not comfortable writing, but here we go!
This will also be my first fic featuring Valko! It's been hard for me to engage with lads content recently because I have so much disappointment towards infold and how everything has been playing out so I apologize how long it is taking me to get through my requests.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Xavier:
Being pregnant had done absolutely nothing to convince you that you should slow down.
You were still trying to carry grocery bags that were far too heavy, still insisting you could reach the top shelf without help, still volunteering for every little chore around the apartment.
Xavier was having none of it.
"You know I can do that."
"I know."
You reached for the laundry basket anyway.
"So...?"
"So let me."
You laughed.
"I'm pregnant, Xavier, not made of glass."
"No," he agreed as he lifted the basket from your hands. "But you're making a whole person."
He carried it down the hallway while you followed behind him with a sigh.
"You've become bossy."
"I've become practical."
"You've become overprotective."
He stopped walking just long enough to glance back at you, a smirk on his face.
"I've always been overprotective."
You couldn't argue with that.
It had only gotten worse after you'd told him you were pregnant.
If you mentioned craving strawberries at eleven o'clock at night, he came home with three cartons.
If your feet hurt after a long day, he was already kneeling in front of the couch, gently rubbing the ache from your arches before you even asked.
He insisted on carrying every shopping bag, opening every heavy door, reaching every high shelf.
Not because he thought you couldn't. Because he didn't want you to have to.
"You know," you teased one evening as he tucked another blanket around your legs, "people are going to think I'm incapable."
He looked up from where he'd been making sure your feet were warm.
"I don't."
"Then why won't you let me do anything?"
His expression softened.
"I will."
You blinked.
"The moment you actually need to."
You tilted your head.
"But right now..." His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers with his. "your body's working harder than it ever has."
His free hand drifted to your stomach, gently caressing.
"I can carry the groceries."
A small smile spread across your face.
"So can I."
"I know."
"I can still do laundry."
"I know."
"I can still..."
"You can do almost anything you want." His thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand. "But you don't have to."
Just then, a tiny flutter pressed against the palm resting on your stomach.
Xavier froze.
His eyes widened ever so slightly.
"Was, was that..?"
The baby kicked again.
It was as if he forgot to do anything else, and he could only stare at you in awe. Then the biggest smile you'd ever seen spread across his face. "They're saying hello." He said, moving his hand to wave at your stomach.
"I think they're telling you to stop fussing over me."
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead before resting his cheek lightly against your stomach.
"I make no promises."
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Zayne:
Dating a doctor had its advantages. It also meant there was absolutely no room for misinformation.
The moment the pregnancy test came back positive, Zayne had started a folder. Every ultrasound, every blood test, every appointment summary, every recommendation from your obstetrician, it was all meticulously organized.
"You made tabs?" you laughed one evening as he handed you the binder.
"They're color coded."
"Of course they are."
"They're chronological as well."
You couldn't help smiling. Only Zayne would turn pregnancy into a research project. Not that you minded. He read every new study he could find, always separating evidence from old wives' tales. If you had a question, he somehow already knew the answer.
When your cravings started, he never questioned them.
One night you woke him at nearly two in the morning.
"I need peaches."
He blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Fresh?"
You hesitated, imagining the taste in your mouth. "...Canned."
He nodded once. "I'll be back."
You caught his wrist before he could climb out of bed. "I was joking."
"You weren't."
"Okay, maybe not, but I don't actually need them. It's late, you need rest."
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know."
Fifteen minutes later, he returned with canned peaches, peach yogurt, peach juice, and even peach gummies.
"You bought every peach in Linkon."
"I prefer to be prepared."
You laughed, shaking your head. "You spoil me."
"I know."
It wasn't until your second trimester that he came home carrying a rather large box.
You looked up from the couch. "What's that?"
"A portable ultrasound."
You stared. "A what?"
He set the box on the coffee table before carefully unpacking it. "I've already spoken with your obstetrician. They approved it as long as we don't overuse it."
You looked between him and the machine. "You bought an ultrasound?"
"I did."
"For the house?"
"Yes."
Your mouth fell open, shocked.
"You don't like it?"
"No!" You laughed. "I just don't think anyone else gets a home ultrasound machine."
His expression remained perfectly serious. "You aren't anyone else."
Over the next several weeks, he taught you everything, how to apply the gel, how to angle the probe, what you were looking at on the screen.
"There."
He pointed gently. "That's the spine."
You squinted. "It looks like a tiny gummy bear."
"It does."
"And that's..."
He smiled. "Our baby waving."
Your heart swelled. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, and he squeezed yours, his attention never leaving the tiny image on the screen.
For once, there were no explanations. No medical terminology. No lectures. Just silence.
You glanced over and caught him smiling at the monitor. A smile you'd never seen on him, one of pure awe and love.
"You've seen thousands of ultrasounds," you whispered.
"I have."
"But this one is different?"
Finally, he looked at you. "I've spent my life watching other patients become parents."
His hand settled gently over yours. "This..." His eyes drifted back to the tiny heartbeat flickering on the screen. "this is the first time I've watched my own child grow."
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Rafayel:
Rafayel was absolutely certain the two of you were having the most beautiful baby in the world.
"Look at us," he said one afternoon as the two of you wandered through a baby boutique. "There was never any other possibility."
You laughed, bumping his shoulder.
"You are unbelievably humble."
"I am undeniably correct."
He held up the tiniest pair of shoes you'd ever seen and you couldn't help but smile at his excitement.
"Our child is going to look adorable in these."
"They won't fit for months."
"So?" He tucked them into the shopping basket anyway. "They're adorable."
Over the next few months, your apartment slowly transformed.
A crib appeared. Tiny clothes found their way into drawers. Stuffed animals somehow multiplied every time Rafayel left the house.
He claimed they simply "followed him home."
You stopped questioning it after the fifth one.
You found him one afternoon sitting in the nursery, paintbrush moving effortlessly across one wall as soft blues and golds slowly took shape beneath his hand.
"You've been in here all day."
"I have." He didn't look away from the mural. "I wanted it to be perfect."
You smiled, watching him add another careful stroke. "It already is."
For just a moment...His brush stopped. You frowned, confused at his hesitation.
"Raf?"
He was quiet.
"...What if they don't like it?"
You blinked.
"The mural?"
"No."
He finally turned toward you.
"What if I'm not..." His voice caught for the briefest moment. "...what they need?"
The question caught you completely off guard.
"If they need..?" You gently prompted him to continue.
He laughed softly, though it lacked its usual confidence.
"I've never done this before."
You crossed the room until you were standing beside him.
"You act like you're not scared."
"I know." His smile was small. "I thought if I sounded confident long enough..." He looked down at the tiny paint stains on his hands. "I'd eventually believe myself."
His admission of fear made your heart ache. You gently took his hand.
"You know what I think?"
He looked up.
"I think you're going to be the dad who paints bedtime stories instead of reading them."
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"The one who lets them mix every color together because they're 'finding their artistic voice.'"
He laughed quietly.
"The one who hangs every scribbled drawing on the refrigerator like it's hanging in an art gallery."
His smile grew.
"And the one who's already spent three months making sure the nursery is perfect because you love this baby so much."
Rafayel's eyes glistened ever so slightly.
"I don't think someone like that needs to worry about whether they'll be enough."
Silence settled between you.
Then, very carefully, he rested his forehead against yours.
"I've spent my whole life creating beautiful things."
His hand slipped down to rest gently against your stomach.
"But somehow..."
A tiny kick met his palm. His eyes widened. Then he laughed.
"I think we've already made my masterpiece."
You smiled as he dropped to his knees, pressing a gentle kiss against your bump.
"Oh, cutie," he whispered with a grin. "You'd better have your mother's personality."
You raised an eyebrow.
"And why's that?"
He looked up at you, completely serious.
"Because if you inherit mine..." He sighed dramatically. "your poor mother is going to have two hopelessly dramatic people to deal with."
Your laughter filled the nursery.
And just like that, the worry disappeared again, replaced by the quiet excitement of a father who couldn't wait to meet the little life the two of you had created together.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Sylus:
The first person to find out you were pregnant after Sylus wasn't Luke. Or Kieran.
It was Mephisto.
You had barely walked through the front doors of Onychinus when the mechanical crow landed on the arm of the couch beside you, tilting his head curiously toward your stomach.
"You've got to be kidding me," you laughed.
The bird let out a series of happy chirps before taking off down the hallway.
You frowned.
"Where's he going?" You thought out loud.
A loud crash echoed from somewhere deeper inside the base.
Then another.
A moment later, Luke came sprinting around the corner.
"Boss!"
Closely followed by Kieran.
"Is it true?"
Sylus hadn't even looked up from the paperwork on his desk.
"It would appear Mephisto has made the announcement for us."
Within seconds, the twins were talking over one another.
"I'm teaching the baby how to throw a punch."
"No, absolutely not. I'm teaching them card tricks."
"They're learning self-defense first."
"They're learning magic first."
"They're learning..."
"They're learning to let their parents make decisions." Sylus's calm interruption silenced them both.
For all of three seconds.
The next several months somehow became even more chaotic.
Everything a baby could ever need appeared in your room without explanation.
Luke insisted he'd found the "coolest baby blanket ever."
Kieran kept buying tiny shoes despite being reminded that newborns didn't walk.
And every few days, Mephisto proudly dropped another mysterious treasure into the nursery.
A shiny button.
A smooth stone.
Once, a stolen pacifier.
"...Where did he even get that?" you wondered aloud.
Sylus simply sighed.
"I've learned not to ask."
As your pregnancy progressed, simple things became harder.
Standing for long periods. Rolling over in bed. Walking after a particularly busy day. But you tried not to complain.
One evening, you were helping Luke and Kieran decorate the nursery when your lower back started to ache.
You shifted your weight.
Then again.
Sylus noticed quickly.
Without saying a word, he walked over behind you. One hand settled beneath your stomach. The other rested gently against your lower back.
He lifted, just enough to take some of the weight.
A relieved sigh escaped you before you could stop it.
"...Better?"
You nodded immediately.
"So much."
Luke stared.
"...Boss."
"What?"
"I didn't know you could do that."
Sylus raised an eyebrow.
"Neither did I."
You laughed softly as you leaned back against him, letting him continue supporting your bump.
"I didn't realize how heavy they were getting."
"You've been carrying them all day."
His voice was matter-of-fact, as though that explained everything.
"I can carry them for a while."
Your eyes stung unexpectedly.
"You do so much for me."
"I know."
"You never complain."
"Why would I?"
His hands never left their place.
"This is my child."
Then, after the briefest pause,
"And I love you."
He rested his chin lightly against your shoulder. "Taking care of you isn't a chore." His thumb traced slow circles against the side of your stomach. "It's a privilege."
As though they understood they were being talked about, the baby kicked.
Sylus chuckled quietly.
Luke gasped.
"They're kicking!"
Kieran was already kneeling beside you.
"Hi, little one! It's Uncle Kieran."
"No, it's Uncle Luke first!"
The two immediately began bickering again.
You looked up at Sylus, unable to stop smiling.
Your family had always been small.
Now, somehow, it had never felt bigger.
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Caleb:
Caleb had been talking to the baby since the day you found out. He claimed it was important for them to recognize his voice.You claimed they couldn't even hear him yet.
"Details."
"They're very important details."
He simply rested his hand against your stomach anyway.
"Hi, Pipsqueak," he said with a grin.
You looked down at him.
"...You know we can't both be called Pipsqueak."
"Sure you can."
"We'll never know which one we're talking to."
"You'll figure it out."
You laughed, shaking your head.
"You've put absolutely no thought into this."
"I've put lots of thought into it."
"Oh?"
"I've also considered Little Pip."
You groaned dramatically.
"I am not letting you name our child that"
He looked genuinely disappointed.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Fine."
He sighed as though you'd crushed his dreams.
"I guess I'll keep brainstorming."
You rolled your eyes affectionately before reaching for his hand.
"You are unbelievable."
"I've been told."
The months passed quickly.
Every little milestone seemed to unlock another childhood memory.
When you felt the first kick, Caleb immediately started talking about how you'd kicked him in the ribs once during a nap when you were little.
When you bought the baby's first blanket, he insisted it looked exactly like one you'd carried everywhere as a child.
"You dragged it through every puddle you could find."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I think you're making this up."
"I'm not."
"You have no proof."
He laughed and nearly dropped the tiny onesie he'd been folding. "I don't need proof."
Later that evening, you found him alone in the nursery.
The crib had finally been put together.
Tiny clothes hung neatly in the closet.
A rocking chair sat in the corner.
Caleb stood in the middle of the room, quietly looking around.
"You okay?" you asked.
He looked over his shoulder.
"...Yeah."
But his smile looked different. Softer.
You walked over, slipping your hand into his.
"What are you thinking about?"
He was quiet for a long moment.
"I keep remembering you."
You tilted your head.
"When we were little."
His thumb brushed gently across the back of your hand.
"You were always following me around."
You laughed.
"I was not."
"You absolutely were."
"I was independent."
"You cried because I went to summer camp for three days."
"That was one time."
"It was adorable."
You nudged his shoulder.
"You still haven't answered my question."
His eyes wandered back to the crib.
"I just..."
He let out a quiet breath.
"It feels like yesterday you were that little."
Your heart melted.
"And now..."
He looked down at your stomach before smiling to himself.
"...my Pipsqueak is having a Pipsqueak."
The words hung softly between you.
"I don't know where the time went."
You reached up, cupping his cheek.
"You know they're going to adore you."
"I hope so."
"They already do."
As though on cue, the baby gave a firm kick beneath your hand.
Caleb's eyes widened.
"There it is again."
He dropped to his knees without hesitation, resting both hands against your stomach.
"Hey, little Pip," he whispered.
"You be nice to your mama, okay?"
You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair.
"They're probably kicking because they already know you're talking."
"I'd like to think they're saying hi."
He looked up at you, his eyes impossibly warm.
"I've spent my whole life looking after you."
His smile softened even more.
"I think I'm going to like looking after the two of you even more."
And in that moment, surrounded by tiny clothes, half-built toys, and the future the two of you had dreamed of, home had never felt so full.
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Valko:
Pregnancy had done something very strange to Valko. It had turned an already meticulous scientist into, into whatever this was.
"You bought another blanket."
He didn't even look up from the shopping bag he was unpacking.
"It's different."
You blinked.
"It's beige."
"The other one was cream."
You stared at him.
"They're different."
"They're both fluffy."
"They're different kinds of fluffy."
You couldn't help laughing.
Over the past few months, your home had slowly filled with things neither of you had intentionally bought.
Soft blankets draped over every chair.
Tiny socks tucked neatly into drawers.
An emergency diaper bag.
A second emergency diaper bag.
A third emergency diaper bag that he insisted would stay in the car.
"Valko."
"Hm?"
"How many diapers does one newborn need?"
His expression remained perfectly serious.
"I'd rather have too many than not enough."
"You bought enough to raise triplets."
"You never know."
You walked over, wrapping your arms around his waist.
"We're only having one."
"So far."
You laughed so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes.
"I love that your reasonable brain completely disappears when it comes to this baby."
"It doesn't disappear."
"Oh?"
"It simply..." He considered his words carefully. "prioritizes different variables."
You smiled.
"Uh huh."
"It does."
You reached into one of the shopping bags, pulling out an impossibly tiny sleepsuit.
As you unfolded it, Valko quietly took it from your hands. Without thinking, he brought it closer, pausing for just a moment before carefully folding it again.
You watched him.
"...Did you just smell it?"
His ears immediately flushed pink.
"No."
"You absolutely did."
"I was checking the fabric."
"With your nose?"
"Maybe..."
A grin spread across your face.
"You've been scenting the baby's clothes."
His embarrassment only deepened.
"It's instinct."
"I know."
"I can't exactly explain it."
"You don't have to."
He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I just..."
His voice softened.
"I want everything around our pup to smell like home."
Your heart melted.
"Our pup?"
He froze.
"I said that out loud."
"You did."
A bashful smile tugged at his lips.
"I suppose I did."
You stepped closer, resting one of his hands against your stomach.
The baby shifted almost immediately.
His entire face lit up.
"They're awake."
"They always seem to be when you're talking."
He smiled to himself, absentmindedly rubbing gentle circles over your bump.
"I've been reading another paper."
You laughed.
"Of course you have."
"It said babies can recognize their parents' voices before they're born."
"So you've been talking to them on purpose?"
"Absolutely."
You smiled warmly.
"I think they already know who their dad is."
He looked down at your stomach before leaning forward, pressing a gentle kiss against it.
"I hope so."
Then his expression shifted ever so slightly. That quiet, protective edge you had come to know so well. His arm instinctively settled around your waist as he guided you toward the couch.
"You've been standing too long."
"I've been standing for five minutes."
"Exactly."
"I am perfectly capable of," you started but he cut you off immediately.
"I know."
His voice was warm, but left very little room for argument.
"But if I can make things easier for you..." He helped you sit before kneeling in front of you. "...why wouldn't I?"
You threaded your fingers through his hair.
"You know," you teased softly, "you're nesting."
He frowned.
"I am not."
"You've reorganized the nursery three times."
"It wasn't efficient."
"You alphabetized the baby's books."
"They're easier to find."
"You scented their clothes."
"..."
"You bought seven blankets."
"They're seven different blankets."
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt.
Valko sighed dramatically before resting his forehead against your bump.
⚠️ This is hand drawn. Do not use without permission or get rid of my watermark or I will have to reupload with a bigger, uglier one. I want to continue sharing my art with the community, so if you’d like to support me please give me a reblog and/or follow!
At this point everything that needs to be said has already been said by everyone else. I know there have been problems with how PG/IF has been developing the game (ie. not updating the chocolate shop, not developing the other characters as much as the newer ones, etc.) but I was honestly very excited for a new character because he seemed interesting. You can want a new character AND want for things to be better in the game; those two things are not mutually exclusive.
I hope they bring him back someday. Of course he’ll never take Sylus’ number one spot for me, and he probably wouldn’t have knocked Zayne off as my number two either, but I was eager for the update before they nuked it. And to be honest, after they cancelled him I haven’t even played the kitchen update at all because it just doesn’t catch my interest in comparison to what could’ve been.
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