Hi belle/princess sorry I’m not sure what ur comfy w me calling you butttt can I ask what your list of anons are if ever and if it hasn’t been taken already can I be 💫 anon?
Also I absolutely love all your stuff oh my stars (pls never stop writing idk what I would do if you and or my other faves suddenly stop, but ofc take breaks when you need to🫶🫶)
Also! May I request if ever like a fluff/sfw of like any bursona and you with like a kid (can be a son or daughter) or ur pregnant w his kid? lol I’ve been asking so many writers for this type of stuff lately- whahahaha baby fever literally infected me so strongly 😭😭
Dadbur Taking Care Of His Pregnant Partner
Dadbur x Gender Neutral Reader
Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of vomiting, gender neutral pronouns but AFAB body parts mentioned
Tag List: @heartofwritiing
Hi 💫 anon! Belle, Princess, or literally anything is fine. You can… call me what you like 😎
Fun fact about me- I fucking HATE kids. I’ve always been adamant I’d never have them, as early as I can remember. Doesn’t stop my breeding kink GODDAMN I LOVE MY IUD!
Headcannons below cut!
~If you think Wilbur would be anything but the best partner while you’re pregnant, you’d be happily mistaken.
~From the second you see that positive test, you wont have to lift a finger.
~From chores, to shopping, to cooking, to driving. Anything you want or need, he’s done it for you.
~”Babe, can I feel our baby kick?”
~He’d check out all the baby name books from the library and spend hours pouring over them.
~”You sit back and put your feet up. I’ll rub your back and make you some tea.”
~Holds you when you’re dealing with morning sickness, whether that’s in bed from nausea or on the bathroom floor from vomiting.
~”You’ll be ok, sweetheart, better out than in. Just take a sip of water. I’m right here.”
~Every time your cravings send Wilbur to the store, he comes back with something else for the baby. Clothes, toys, or whatever he sees and loves.
~Comes to every single appointment with you. You’d insist he doesn’t need to, and he’d insist he can at least drive you.
~Wilbur would pour over articles, books, and videos on how best to help your partner when they’re in labour.
~”I was thinking maybe Tallulah for a girl?”
~Kisses and rubs your belly whenever he can, massaging in lotion to keep your skin soft as it stretches.
~Absolutely cannot shut up about the fact he’s going to be a dad. He’ll tell the mailman, the cashier, the bus driver, anyone.
~Has a ‘go bag’ by the door just in case you go into labour early. He’s had the bag packed since the day you got the positive test.
~Your cravings would gross him out, but he’d try them anyway. Anything to support you.
~And when you do go into labour?
~Wilbur would be right behind you on the hospital bed, holding you, stroking your hair, whispering how much he loves you between contractions.
~”Just breathe for me, love, it’ll pass. Think about how amazing it’ll be to hold our baby. That’s my love. Just like that.”
~Between contractions, he asks the nurses everything from his notebook of questions about the baby.
~He’d respect your choices 100%. Medicated or unmedicated labour, it’s your choice and your body.
~”Can I cut the cord, babe?”
~Anyone who says this man wouldn’t sob upon seeing his child in his arms for the first time is wrong. End of.
cw: fluff!, like kinda angsty from wilburs perspective for a minute, youre his daughter, christmas in november also, really rushed and short lol
author’s note: ive been thinking so much about that clip of wilbur saying he would love to be a dad and have kids :(
-
as a little girl, christmastime was your favorite.
you loved winter, really. you loved putting on your jacket and snowpants to stomp around in the yard and build snowmen. you loved the arts and crafts you got to make at school, coming home with a big grin on your face, one of your front teeth gone, proudly presenting your lopsided snowman paper project to your dad. even putting up the christmas tree and staring at it for hours on end, the only thing bringing you out of your thoughts was your dad calling you over for dinner, or calling you over to get you ready for bed.
wilbur never really liked the holidays. his parents never wanted to celebrate them because they didn’t like him much. so, for him, holidays were never really a tradition. but once he had you? he began celebrating holidays again.
wilbur worked a lot. it wasn’t very often that he got time for himself. he never called out of work because he could never really afford it- you two lived in a tiny apartment downtown.
wilbur was preparing your dinner on a plate when you ran up to him with a paper in your hand. “papa! papa! look!” you tugged on his pants gently. he turned his head towards you, picking up the paper. he skimmed the words over. “a concert, huh? singing christmas carols?” he asked. “yeah! will you be there, papa?” you asked, your eyes glimmering with hope and excitement. wilbur frowned slightly. “oh, sweetheart. i’ll do my best… but you know papa works a lot.” he answered? and she frowned a bit. “but… will you try?” “of course i’ll try, sweet girl.” he picked her up, set her on his hip and kisses her little cheek. he saw how her eyes glistened, as if tears were threatening to push through. “no crying yet, sweetheart. papa has a delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich on this plate for you.”
the day of the concert, wilbur was so sure he wasn’t gonna be able to make it. but upon imagining your tears, how disappointed and upset you’d be, how you’d wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands- he couldn’t bear it. he called out of work instead.
the classroom was decorated with the artworks the children did. it smelt of peppermint treats, and god, did the room seem cozy. the risers were set up at the front of the class. they were empty yet, but parents gathered in the seats that were prepared for them. normally, because of his height, wilbur would sit in the back. but this time? he wanted his little girl to know that he was there. so, he sat front row.
the students walked in. and god, were you adorable. you had your little christmas sweater on, wearing your red santa hat, the two braids with red bows wilbur had done coming undone slightly. once on the risers, you noticed him and gasped, waving at him as all of the other children did to their own parents. with a grin, wilbur waved back.
you sang so loud and proud. you had the biggest grin on your face, and the smile never left wilbur’s lips. not even when you sang too far ahead, or sang too off-key. he didn’t notice. he was so proud of you.
the concert ended, and the children ran off to find their parents. you ran right up to wilbur, arms wide. “papa! you came!” you squeal, and he picked you up, kissing your face. “of course i came, sweetheart. i wouldn’t miss this for anything.” he says, setting you down on his hip. “i’m so proud of you. you looked adorable singing your little heart out up there.” he says, smiling wide at you. she giggled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “time to go home now?” you ask. “not yet, sweetheart. you have to finish out your day at school.” he responded. she frowned, but he immediately reassured her. “but i’ll tell you what. we can have a hot chocolate together later, yeah? with extra marshmallows in your red cup, just how you like it?” he asked, and you immediately nodded. “yeah!” “my sweet girl. i’m so proud of you.” wilbur smiled, kissing your cheek again.
in which; wilbur comes home late and exhausted and brushes past his daughter
about; dad!bur au, so many different perspectives, angst to fluff, i wrote this in two hours very late at night so it's not the best, kisses, fighting, crying, wilbur being bad bad, wilbur ignoring your daughter, swearing, happy ending yayay, gender neutral, i think y/n is used once, anything along these lines
word count; 1.7k
taglist; @phxntomsdusk, @pheliiaa (ask to be added)
you heard the front door creak open, and you sent your daughter down to greet him. you stayed in her room, however, overthinking.
he was home late again from the studio, writing and figuring out songs for the new album. he was working hard, but was starting to forget about who lay at home, waiting for him.
you and your daughter made good use of time during the day when he wasn’t there. making little animals out of playdoh, making dinner for wilbur when he got home, or making silly stories with each other. however, it didn’t feel right.
it didn’t feel like when wilbur had promised to spend every waking moment with you and your daughter. he had promised that if it came to it, he would give up lovejoy, give up streaming, give up everything, to spend all of eternity with you both. but now, he wasn’t keeping the promise fulfilled.
you were cut off by the urgent footsteps of your daughter, and a very teary-eyed girl standing in the doorway. scooping her up, you cradle her against your chest and swing her back and forth, trying to cheer her up.
eventually, you had to break her walls and ask what was wrong.
“what happened? why’re you upset?”
“daddy…”
she was cut off by a loud sob erupting from her throat. she was just so heartbroken
“what did daddy do, sweetheart? do i need to go talk to him?”
it was a great effort trying to get a reason out in between her sobs and shaky breaths, but eventually, she got something out.
“daddy- he- he walked past me. i said hello and tried to hug him, but- but he- he didn’t say hello back. i offered the cupcakes and his- his dinner to him, but he just walked into his room. he just ‘hmphed’ and… ignored me.”
you were heartbroken by this point. he had left his daughter in tears, and his lover heartbroken, but you couldn’t keep sulking with your daughter.
cut to now. you were standing in your shared room with wilbur, arguing back and forth. stupid arguments spewed from his mouth, and sounds of disbelief spewed from yours. you were frustrated from his pure ignorance and bullshit excuses.
“i’m tired! do you not see that! you have to realise i don’t have all the time in the world to be with the people i love most! for fucks sake, you give no one a break, do you!”
each word spilled from his mouth shattered your heart. he didn’t understand.
“all you are worried about is me! all you are worried about is our daughter! all you are worried about is the little stupid things that do not need to have your mind occupied!”
he shouted more and more silly things, clearly not realising what he was saying.
“but that’s what we’re meant to be worried abou-“
“i don’t care! you need to stop! you need to calm the fuck down, sit the fuck down, and stop worrying. i get it, our daughter is very much upset, but im here, and im tired!”
why was he worried about himself?
“you quite simply ignored our daughter as soon as you opened that door! she offered everything her little mind could think of! the cupcakes we made today, the dinner we made for you, she said hello and tried to hug you and you walked past her, groaned, and ignored her! you’ve left her in tears in her bedroom, absolutely heartbroken, because of you! are you fucking brain dead, wilbur!”
he wasn’t going to deny that your words hurt him more than his hurt you. he was only just realising how much he was away from you and his daughter. how much time was spent without the smiling faces of the little love bugs that he leaves at home each day. he didn’t know what had gotten into hi-
“what happened to ‘i’ll give up everything. i’ll give up lovejoy, streaming, ill give up everything, to spend all of eternity with you’! you aren’t here anymore! you’re either not at home or you’re off with the fairies! what happened to us! are we not important! what happened to your family, wilbur! you must be fucking stupid, you bastard!”
that was the last thing he needed before he fell onto the bed and let the floodgates open. he hadn’t realised how much time he had spent away from you both. he was always worried about the release date of the next ep, or always occupied by something else. it must have been months since he truly recognised the warm smile of his daughter or the honey-sweet laugh of you. he didn’t realise that he was slipping down the same rabbit hole every one he knew was falling down. he needed to be present.
you were both fuming. you were pissed and he was frustrated.
it took him a good five minutes to register that you were gone. that you hadn’t offered him a hug, or a kiss, or even something as simple as a head rub. you had just walked off…
he immediately stood up and almost ran to his daughters room. he looked everywhere. you weren’t in there. you weren’t in the guest room, or the lounge room, or the bathroom, or even the kitchen. you were literally gone.
he was about to break down again, lose himself to panic, until the soft, wet laughs from his daughter reached his ears.
he found you both outside, your daughter laying in the grass, you tickling her. she had dried tear tracks on her face and red puffy eyes, you with the same. god she looked like you-
until the day he dies, he will never believe that your daughter looks like him. she has your hair, your eyes, your nose, your mouth. she has your beauty.
he sat down next to you after your daughter saw him and her smile dropped. he’d done so wrong-
“can i apologi-“
“wilbur go inside.”
“darling, plea-“
“wilbur.”
he stood once again and stepped inside. he grabbed his dinner and sat at the kitchen island. he let his eyes roam over every photo of you, of your daughter, of you and your daughter, of him and your daughter, of all of you-
he ate his dinner before it went cold, the small bowl of mac n’ cheese and mashed potato swallowed down before he trudged back to your shared room. he laid down and fell asleep almost instantly. he didn’t want the guilt to set in and ruin anything else.
meanwhile, you and your daughter were still laughing and rolling around in the grass. just before wilbur came out wanting to apologise, you had just calmed her down from her sobs and cries. she had voiced so many small sentences that were so incomprehensible, the sentence that you did catch was so heart-wrenching, you started crying again.
“do you and daddy still love me?”
you sobbed and endured shaky breaths but you got through it just for her.
“yes, of course, pumpkin. please don’t ever think we don’t love you.”
a shower and fresh set of pyjamas later, your daughter was asleep in her room, and you were pacing the lounge room, figuring out what to do.
do you sleep on the couch? do you sleep with wilbur? do you sleep in your daughters room? you simply didn’t know.
settling for your shared bedroom, you make your way to where wilbur was fast asleep, small breaths moving the curls on his head and the slight twitch in his arm from where you were absent.
you crawl under the sheets behind him, ignoring the slight hiccup in his sleep, and falling asleep with your head buried in his sleep shirt. the faint scent of cologne and rain luring you into sleep.
you woke to wilbur’s calloused fingers running across your face and through your hair, and finding rest on your shoulders. his slight bed head and tired face making him even prettier than usual. he’ll always dent that he looks pretty in the mornings, claiming that he looks weird with his messy hair or that his breath stinks, but everything is always brushed off with a wide smile from you and a kiss placed under his eye.
but as soon as the warm feeling came, it was pulled away as soon as he realised you had woken up. he thought that you were still angry at him, that you would get angry at him for being so close to you after last night. but he was surprised when he felt you move and pull his hand back to you face.
he continued his small gestures across your face, staring at your sleepy face maybe just a little longer than he should be, considering how horrible of a person he was last night. how absolutely self-centred he was, how he ignored your daughte-
“stop worrying, wil. i’m not angry.”
“i’m so sorry, for last nigh-”
“sweet, don’t apologise right now.”
“just let me, please?”
when he was met with a small nod, he continued.
“i’m so so so sorry about last night. i don’t know what had gotten in to me that made me ignore the two most beautiful things i call mine, but i feel absolutely horrible. i should not have said anything that i said. i shouldn’t have been so self-centred, i shouldn’t have ignored our daughter, i shouldn’t have argued with you. i’m sorry. i really am. and im sorry for not sticking by that promise. i promise that you and our daughter are going to be my number one priority from here on out. i love you.”
he finished his apology with a kiss to your forehead, to your nose, and finally to your lips. he threaded his hands back into your hair, and pulled off his shirt and gave it to you to keep you warm.
soon, your little ball of happiness walked into the room, laughing at the sight of you in wilbur’s shirt and him tickling you. you all calmed down eventually, and let your daughter climb into bed with both of you.
wilbur immediately smothered her in tight hugs and ticklish kisses pressed against her face. he apologised to her for ignoring her and made sure that she believed him before he dropped the subject.
you all spent the entire day doing things together. making playdoh animals, with wilbur. making dinner, with wilbur. making up silly stories, with wilbur. he was included in everything you did.
dad!bur doing the “gotcha nose” thing to his kid while you watch from the other side of the room, them laughing and getting along with each other.
“Gotcha” - Dadbur x GN!reader
summary: the ask!!
warnings: none <3
tags: @joviepog , @vibestillaxxx , @pheliiaa , @rqvii , @lillylvjy , @idontreallyexistyet , (ask to be added!)
word count: 199
You and Wilbur had been dating for only a few months, but his daughter absolutely adored you.
The small domestic moments between the two of them were adorable, especially when you were there to witness them.
You had so many pictures and videos of them, all saved away so you could enjoy them when you were away.
Tonight was another one of those domestic nights, the two of them sat on the floor, with you on the couch mostly watching T.V.
“Got your nose!” You looked over at Wilbur, hearing his daughter giggle loudly and frantically reached for his thumb.
You chuckled softly, moving closer so you were sitting behind them. You watched as his thumb pressed against her nose, a small explosion noise leaving his lips.
“There you go, love.” He kissed her nose, rubbing it lightly with his finger, before pressing a final boop. “All better. Now, you’re not noseless.”
At the sound of your laugh he slowly looked behind him, a shy smile on his lips, before you captured them in a short kiss. “Taking her nose again, huh?” He nodded proudly, holding her closely in his lap. “As always. I might take yours next.”
