This always happens to me when I randomly decide to log onto X as I'm about to head to bed. Do I regret it? NOPE. BEST DECISION EVER! Gris is soooooo yummy 🤤
Semiu: Enjin, I’ve been meaning to ask, is that a bite mark on your hand?
Enjin: What- Ah, yeah. Had it for a while now.
Semiu: How did you get it?
Enjin: Uhh- Well-
[Flashback...]
Enjin, waving a piece of paper in front of Gris’s face: You made a mistake~ Look at that, FOUR typos! Tsk tsk *wiggling his brows*
Gris, moodily: I’m going to bite you if you don’t stop waving that in my face, Enjin.
Enjin: Ooo don’t threaten me with a good time-
*CHOMP*
Enjin: WHAT THE HELL- THAT WASN'T A SEXY BITE–
synopsis, a/n: I see them as potential dads (save for regto cause ya know). ergo. i must write them as dads. girl dads. sfw. features enjin, corvus, gris, zodyl, and regto
wc: idk.
-Enjin + Learning To Say No.
You finally sit him down after yet another morning of your daughter eating sweets before breakfast because Enjin caved at her pouty eyes.
“Enjin. You have to stop giving her everything she wants. She’s got you wrapped around her finger. You’re the dad—you have to say no sometimes.” He looks genuinely scandalized, umbrella propped against his shoulder like a prop in his dramatics.
“Say no? To her? Do you even hear yourself?”
The next day, he tries. Baby girl wants to climb on the table for the third time. She looks at him with those wide eyes, hands reaching.
He steels himself, crouches down, and says firmly:
“…No.”
She blinks once… and then her lip wobbles. Her eyes well up. A single fat tear rolls down her cheek.
Enjin immediately panics—scoops her up, umbrella clattering to the floor.
“Wait! No, no, don’t cry—alright, fine, you can climb the table! You can have the whole table, I’ll buy you five tables!”
From the doorway, you pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Enjin.” He freezes mid–pep talk, his daughter happily giggling again now that she’s been scooped up. He glances at you guiltily.
“…I said no. Briefly.”
Later that night, he admits in a half-whisper while your daughter sleeps against his chest:
“I don’t want her to ever look at me and think I’m not on her side. That’s why I can’t say no.”
You press his hand and gently remind him:
“Sometimes saying no is being on her side. She needs that too.”
The next attempt? He actually succeeds. He tells her no when she tries to eat crayons, and though she pouts, he distracts her with a silly umbrella dance until she’s giggling instead. Baby steps—for both of them
-Corvus + Bay Girl Being Chaotic
Corvus is seated at his desk, huge frame hunched over papers, maps, and mission reports. He’s dead focused, that calm intensity radiating from him… but on his lap and shoulders? A baby with zero respect for authority. She’s crawling across his arms while he’s trying to write, little fingers smudging ink. At one point she climbs his broad back like it’s a mountain, squealing happily as she tugs at his hair. He doesn’t even flinch, just sighs softly. To anyone else, he’s the boss—but to her, he’s a jungle gym. When she goes quiet, he looks up—always suspicious of silence. That’s when he sees it: she’s sitting on his desk, happily gnawing on a very familiar pair of round glasses. Semiu’s. Corvus stares for a long beat, then pinches the bridge of his nose.
“…How did you even get those?”
He plucks the glasses from her mouth, wipes them carefully, and sets them aside—though he knows Semiu is probably going to notice the tiny teeth marks later. Baby girl pouts, so Corvus wordlessly hands her a different “toy”—a safe wooden block—before tucking her against his chest. She immediately starts climbing again, trying to stand on his thighs and reach his papers. Finally, he just leans back in his chair, letting her crawl and babble all over him while he keeps one massive hand steady at her back so she never falls. His tone is dry but fond: “You’re worse than the Raiders, little crow.”
Later, Semiu walks in and freezes when he sees his chewed-up glasses on the table. Corvus doesn’t even look up from his work, just says calmly:
“…Ask her about it.”
-Gris + Baby Girl's First Steps:
At first, Gris hesitates—he knows this is a big milestone, and part of him wishes you were there to see it too. But when his daughter lets go of the couch and wobbles toward him with her tiny arms stretched, his heart melts.
He crouches down low, massive frame shrinking into something soft and approachable, his scarred face breaking into the gentlest smile.
“Come on, sweet girl, you’ve got it. Papa’s right here.”
She takes one step, then another—nearly topples, but Gris is quick to catch her. Instead of putting her back on the couch, he sets her upright again and encourages her with that patient, steady voice he uses in the field when guiding rookies. He holds out one big hand, not touching, just hovering—letting her know she can do it on her own, but that he’s always there if she falls. When she finally makes it into his arms, Gris actually laughs out loud—a rare, deep, unrestrained sound. He scoops her up and spins her once before planting a kiss on her forehead.
"That's my brave girl. Look at you, so big,"
Later, when you come home, you find Gris sitting on the floor with her on his lap, her little legs kicking excitedly. He admits shyly, almost guilty:
“…She took her first steps today. I…I wanted you to see it too, but—I couldn’t stop her.”
To make it up, Gris patiently coaxes her to do it again for you, staying behind her this time so you can watch her toddle across the room.
-Zodyl + Baby Girl's Bedtime
Zodyl shifted the small bundle higher in his arms, her tiny fists curling into the fabric of his shirt. The house was quiet, the faint glow of the lantern casting warm shadows across the walls.
“Alright, little star,” he murmured, his deep voice softened just for her. “One last bottle, then we settle in.”
He eased into the old rocking chair by the bed, feeding her slowly, watching her eyes flutter heavier with each sip. She made a little hum, almost a sigh, as her lashes brushed her cheeks. Zodyl smiled faintly—an expression only she ever got to see. When she finally finished, he set the bottle aside and held her against his shoulder, swaying gently as he rubbed her back. A soft burp escaped, followed by a sleepy whimper.
“There it is,” he whispered, pressing a careful kiss to the crown of her head. “Brave girl.”
He laid her down in the crib, tucking the blanket snug around her. For a moment, she fussed—tiny legs kicking against the fabric—but Zodyl rested a broad hand over her stomach until she stilled, comforted by the weight and warmth.
“Sleep, baby girl,” he said, voice almost reverent. “I’m right here.”
Her breaths evened out, and only then did he lean back, lingering by her side. The world could fall apart beyond these walls, but here, in this quiet, it was just the two of them.
-Regto + Eating Vegetables
Regto sat cross-legged on the floor, spoon in hand, glaring down at the small bowl of mashed carrots like it had personally insulted him. Across from him, your little girl sat in her highchair, lips clamped tight and head turned stubbornly to the side.
“C’mon, kid. It’s carrots,” he coaxed, waving the spoon in front of her face. “Orange, bright, looks fun, yeah? You eat junk off the floor half the time, but this—this is where you draw the line?”
She gave him a look. A full-on squint, as if daring him to try again.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Regto huffed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Alright, new plan.” He took the spoon and made a low vroom noise, pretending it was some kind of racing hovercar zooming through the air. “Open the gates, champ, this baby’s comin’ in hot—”
Just as he went for it, she slapped the spoon right out of his hand. Mashed carrots splattered across his shirt.
You finally lost it, laughing into your hand while Regto froze, staring down at the mess on his chest. Slowly, he turned his head toward you, deadpan. “...She did that on purpose.”
“She’s just smart enough to know when she’s winning,” you teased, walking over with a damp cloth.
Regto wiped at the stain, muttering, “You think you’re funny, huh? I’m not losin’ to someone who still can’t even pronounce my name.”
Your daughter squealed—delighted, victorious—and Regto groaned, slumping back in defeat. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, baby girl. Next time, I’m bringin’ out the peas. You won’t stand a chance.”
gummygunk
origamiaround
