aiko

content: fluff, slightly sugesttive, girl dad nanami, f!reader, happy family

a/n: helloo!! it's been a while, but i'm back. i'm already working on another fic, but i'm kinda stuck. anyway, maybe i'll turn it into a series about dad nanami 🙈

After hours filled with screaming and tantrums, you finally managed to get your 4-year-old daughter to sleep.

You laid her down in bed and turned off the lamp on the nightstand, letting out a long sigh as you stretched your arms, still sore from rocking her for so long.

Heading out of the room, you walked downstairs and into the kitchen, where your husband, Kento, was just finishing wiping down the counter. You walked in with an overly dramatic sigh.

He looked over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. You stepped beside him, wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested your head on his shoulder, casually crossing your legs.

“Got her to sleep?” he asked, amused.

You smiled and nodded, closing your eyes for a moment.

He chuckled softly and turned to face you, wrapping his right arm around your waist and pulling you closer, his left hand resting gently on your cheek. Then, he leaned in and kissed you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back.

His hands slid down to your waist, joining together there. Your noses brushed, and you stayed like that for a while.

“You’re so, so pretty…” he murmured, trailing kisses down to your neck.

You were practically melting into each other—when suddenly, you heard the soft sound of tiny footsteps behind you, followed by a sleepy little voice. “Mama…”

Kento pulled back slightly, and you turned halfway around, letting your arms drop to his shoulder and chest. There stood your daughter, hugging her teddy bear tight, eyes watery and lips pushed into a pout.

“I went pee pee in my bed…” she mumbled, voice small and shaky.

content: angst, suicide, f!reader

a/n: it's my first time writing for tumblr! hope you like it :)

Satoru always knew something was off. You never really said what was going on, but he could feel it. Still, he tried his best. He helped you calm down, helped you with therapy, gave you love, affection… everything he had to give.

But nothing ever seemed to be enough. You never really looked like you were getting better. And he knew that — but he kept trying, because he loved you.

Now, reading your letter for like the thousandth time, he still blames himself. Feels like he didn’t do enough. Like he should’ve noticed. Should’ve done more. And he keeps thinking about that day — the day before you gone.

It was getting late, and he called you on video. You picked up, your room was dark, and you had that fake little smile on your face. He should’ve seen it. But he was too busy showing you his new Digimon cards.

You barely said anything. Just let him talk. And he didn’t catch on.

Time went by, and you stayed quiet. Your face looked more and more sad. You kept looking away from the screen, zoning out. Your breathing got heavier. And still, he didn't realize it.

Idiot.

After a while, you said you had to go. Gave him that sweet smile and said, “Good night. I love you.”

He said it back. Then the call ended.