୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled
୨୧ Bro is going to fix the mess he made with his family from another dimension 🙏
୨୧ This is not exactly the result of what I wanted but it works ;)
The sun dipped below the horizon, its last golden rays painting the sky in soft shades of pink and lavender. The walk back felt longer than usual, the weight of the day pressing on your shoulders. The afternoon had passed in a whirlwind of preparations for Violet’s birthday—small, meaningful plans to make tomorrow special.
But now, exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. Inside the house, the warmth of home embraced you. Dinner had been a blur—a simple meal shared with your children before they yawned and rubbed their eyes, ready for bed.
After clearing up, you found Wyeth in his room, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting a gentle light over the space. He sat cross-legged on his bed, with his broken rocket cradled in his small hands.
You paused in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight. His furrowed brow and the way his little fingers traced over the toy’s worn edges tugged at your heart. Quietly, you stepped into the room and sat on the edge of his bed.
"Hey there, sweetheart," you said softly, brushing your hand over his cheek.
Wyeth looked up at you, his wide eyes searching your face for reassurance.
"Mommy," he began, his voice a small whisper. “Is Daddy mad at me?”
The question caught you off guard, but you schooled your features into a gentle smile.
“Mad at you?” you asked, feigning lightness. “Why would you think that?”
His shoulders slumped, and he set the rocket aside, its bent fin catching the lamplight.
“I’ve been bad lately,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “Maybe that’s why…”
“Sweetheart, no.” you interrupted, leaning in to cup his face in your hands. “Daddy isn’t mad at you. He’s just tired, that’s all. He’s been working really hard and sometimes when grown-ups work too much, they get a little grumpy. But it’s not your fault, okay?”
Wyeth hesitated, his small brow still creased, but eventually he nodded.
“Okay” he whispered.You smiled and kissed his forehead, lingering just long enough for him to feel the warmth of your love.
“Goodnight, my little rocket man. Sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, Mommy,” he murmured, burrowing under his sheets and clutching his blanket close.
You stood, dimming the lamp as you left the room, glancing back to see him already drifting off, the broken rocket abandoned beside him.
In your own room, the silence was heavier. You moved through the motions of preparing for bed, your body exhausted but your mind far from settled. As you pulled back the covers, your eyes flicked to the window. Outside, the night stretched endlessly, dark and quiet. Still, there was no sign of Ekko.
A sigh slipped from your lips as you turned to Violet’s crib. You smiled faintly. She slept soundly, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, her soft coos occasionally breaking the quiet.
Finally, you climbed into bed. The room felt emptier than it should, the absence of Ekko gnawing at you in ways you didn’t want to admit. Your thoughts lingered on him, on the tension from earlier, on the strange distance that had settled between you. As sleep began to pull you under, you found yourself hoping that, come morning, things would feel a little less heavy.
The house was quiet as Ekko slipped inside, the soft creak of the door barely audible over the hum of crickets outside. He paused in the entryway, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, his breath hitching as he looked around.
He had to ask Heimerdinger where his own house was. The thought stung, but as he stood there, surrounded by warm tones and small, comforting touches, a sense of belonging crept in. This was his home—at least, it was for the Ekko who lived here.
The garden outside had been beautiful, a serene patch of green dotted with soft, colorful flowers and lanterns. Inside, the air smelled faintly of lavender and something sweet, a scent that grounded him as he moved deeper into the house.
Pictures lined the walls and shelves, drawing his gaze. Each frame seemed to tell a story, a life lived in a world so far removed from his own. His steps slowed as he reached for one in particular: a photo of his wedding day.
The image stopped him cold, his stomach flipping in a way he hadn’t expected. You looked radiant, your smile wide and bright as you leaned into him, your hands entwined. Ekko—this Ekko—was grinning from ear to ear, his expression caught somewhere between elation and disbelief.
His fingers brushed over the ring on his finger. He could tell it was handmade—gold, with delicate carvings of fireflies and his hourglass symbol etched into its surface. Of course, he thought. He probably made it himself, ensuring it was worthy of the person he gave it to. You didn’t deserve anything less.
Ekko chuckled softly, shaking his head. He’d thought about his wedding day before, in fleeting moments between battles and responsibilities, but it always felt like a distant dream. Something he could never afford.
He moved to another photo, this one capturing the moment of Wyeth’s birth. You were in a bed, holding a tiny, wrapped in blankets, your face glowing with exhaustion and joy. Ekko stood beside you, his grin wobbly and his hair a mess, like he’d just finished pacing the room for hours. He could imagine exactly how that had gone—nervous energy radiating off him, snapping at anyone who told him to relax, only to apologize afterward.
Ekko swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, continuing up the stairs.
The walls of the staircase were covered with more pictures. Wyeth as a toddler, clutching a makeshift artifact in his hands; Violet giggling in a field of wildflowers, her chubby cheeks and wide eyes making her look like the cutest baby in the world.
His steps slowed as his chest tightened. The memory of what he’d said earlier came rushing back
It wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t true. You were his wife, those were his babies, and he didn’t doubt that. Not for a second. But the words had spilled out of him, born from the confusion and guilt swirling in his mind.
He clenched his fists, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He hated the thought of you thinking, even for a moment, that he didn’t want this. That he didn’t want you. He had to fix it. He had to make it right.
When he reached Wyeth’s room, he cracked the door open just enough to peek inside. The boy was sound asleep, curled under his blankets with the broken rocket still resting on the nightstand. Ekko exhaled softly, relief mingling with guilt. He hoped he hadn’t confused the kid too much with his words earlier. Wyeth deserved better.
And then, an idea struck him.
If he wanted to make things right, he couldn’t just apologize. He needed to show you—show all of you—that he was here, that he cared. That no matter how he got here, this was his family.
Ekko closed the door as quietly as he could, slipping back downstairs with a newfound determination. He paused only to glance at the pictures on the wall one more time, steeling himself. Then he slipped out the front door, heading toward Powder’s hideout.
The night air was cool against his skin as he moved through the streets, the city was quiet but alive. He didn’t care if Powder hated him for waking her up; this needed to happen. He couldn’t wait until morning.
By the time he reached the hideout, his heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the resolve burning inside him. He knocked softly at first, then a little harder when there was no answer.
“Powder,” he called in an urgent cry. “I need your help.”
It didn’t matter how late it was. Ekko wasn’t leaving until he fixed things.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, warming the room with its golden glow. You stirred slowly, the weight of sleep still heavy on your body. Your hand reached out instinctively, seeking the comforting presence of your husband, but the bed beside you was empty.
The absence hit you harder than you expected. Memories of the previous day lingered in your mind, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You sat up, running a hand through your head, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine.
It wasn’t until you glanced toward Violet’s crib that the unease turned to panic.
Your heart raced as you threw off the covers and bolted out of the room, your bare feet padding quickly down the hall. The first place you went was Wyeth’s room, pushing the door open with trembling hands.
“Wyeth?” you called, your voice shaking slightly. “Sweetheart, are you in here?”
But the bed was empty, his blankets neatly tucked at the edges.
Your chest tightened. Where were they?
“Violet?” you called, louder this time, your voice echoing through the house as you hurried down the stairs.
You rounded the corner into the dining room, your mind spinning with worst-case scenarios, and froze.
Ekko sat at the table, a knowing grin on his face. A bouquet of fresh flowers sat in the center of the table, their pastel hues soft and welcoming. Beside them was a spread of breakfast—pancakes, fresh fruit, and coffee—all laid out with surprising care.
“Morning,” Ekko said, his tone teasing, as though he hadn’t scared you half to death.
Your panic hadn’t completely subsided.
“Where are the kids?” you demanded, your voice sharp.
His grin widened, his dark eyes dancing with mischief.
“It’s a surprise,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair as if to emphasize how utterly unbothered he was.
Your brow furrowed, a mix of frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface.
“You’re cute when you’re worried,” His gaze swept over you, lingering on your sleepwear, and his grin turned decidedly more suggestive. “By the way, you look… incredible this morning.”
Your cheeks burned as his eyes trailed over you with that familiar, almost predatory glint you’d come to know all too well. It was the kind of look that once made your stomach flip in a good way, but now? It just left you reeling.
“Ekko, stop,” you muttered, looking away in an attempt to regain composure. But his playful chuckle made it clear he wasn’t about to let it go.
“Stop what?” he teased, his voice dropping slightly. “Admiring my wife?”
You shot him a sharp look, your emotions tangled in a confusing mess of frustration and something you couldn’t quite name.
“You’re confusing me so much,” you said finally, your voice quiet but firm.
His laugh was soft but rich, and it only made your frustration deepen.
“Good. I like keeping you on your toes,” he said with a wink, leaning forward slightly.
You exhaled, exasperated, wondering not for the first time, What is wrong with this man?
“I’m just trying to make things right,” he said as if he read your mind, his voice softening slightly.
The sincerity in his tone made your heart skip a beat. You wanted to be mad at him, to demand answers, but the warmth in his eyes made it difficult.
Ekko reached for the coffee pot, pouring you a cup with an easy grace that only confused you further.
“Eat first,” he said, sliding the plate of pancakes toward you. “Then I’ll tell you everything. Promise.”
You hesitated, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sight of his earnest smile made it hard to argue. You sighed, picking up your fork. Whatever he was up to, you’d get to the bottom of it soon enough.
If you thought you were confused before, Ekko’s antics that morning had turned your head into a whirlwind of questions. After changing into a simple but comfortable outfit, you found yourself blindfolded by your husband, his hands gentle yet firm as he secured the cloth over your eyes.
"Ekko," you began, your tone edged with exasperation, "what are you doing? We don’t have time for this. We need to get to The Last Drop and finish setting up for Vi’s birthday."
"Relax," he said smoothly, the grin evident in his voice. "I already have it covered. Trust me."
You sighed, a grunt of disapproval slipping past your lips as he guided you forward with a hand on your arm.
"Trust you? Ekko, you’re lucky I love you."
"Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it," he teased, laughter bubbling in his throat.
You kept up a stream of complaints the entire way, though your protests were punctuated by the occasional chuckle or muttered threat. His laugh echoed through the space as he steered you with careful precision. After a while, you noticed something odd—your voice echoed more than usual.
"Wait," you said, your pace faltering.
"Are we in the sewers? Ekko, you better not—"
"Shh," he interrupted, and before you could finish your thought, he stopped you. His hands brushed your shoulders, and with one swift movement, he removed the blindfold.
Your breath caught in your throat.
The scene before you seemed to be pulled from the pages of a fairy tale. The air was alive with fireflies and butterflies flitting between the lush greenery. Birds chirped softly from branches above, and in the center of it all stood an enormous tree, its wide canopy casting dappled light over the ground below.
You turned to Ekko, your mouth slightly open in disbelief, but he simply smiled, gesturing for you to take it all in.
Before you could say a word, several silhouettes approached. The first to come bounding into view was Wyeth, his grin stretching from ear to ear. He ran straight to you, wrapping his arms around your legs.
"Mommy!" he exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. "Look! Daddy fixed my rocket! He made it better, and now it can fly without breaking anything!” He held up the toy, his joy infectious.
You crouched down to admire the handiwork, running your fingers along the rocket’s smooth edges as Wyeth babbled on.
“And we climbed the tree, Mommy! It’s so tall! You should come see!”
A voice behind him interjected playfully.
“Let your mama breathe, rocket man.”
You looked up to see Powder striding toward you, her blue hair styled into two playful space buns. She carried Violet in a baby carrier strapped to her chest, the little girl now clad in the pastel green dress Powder had shown you the day before. A delicate butterfly charm nestled in her curls added the final touch to her outfit.
"Happy birthday, my sweet Violet," you cooed, leaning in to kiss your baby’s cheek. Violet giggled in response, her tiny hands reaching for you.
“She’s been in full princess mode all morning,” Powder said, rolling her eyes affectionately.
You smiled as you looked around again. Decorations were everywhere—streamers in bright, cheerful colors, balloons that bobbed gently in the breeze, and a large table set up beneath the tree, big enough to seat the whole family. Your heart swelled at the sight.
"Ekko," you began, standing and turning to your husband, "what is this all about?"
He stepped forward, taking your hand with an easy smile.
“What do you mean?” he said, his tone light. “It’s Vi’s birthday, isn’t it?”
You raised an eyebrow, suspicion tinging your voice.
“Right. And you did all of this?”
“Of course,” he said, leading you gently past the table and toward the other side of the massive tree. “Come on. There’s one more thing I want to show you.”
As you rounded the tree, your breath caught again.
There, painted across a wide section of the bark, was a stunning mural. Vibrant colors swirled together to create a picture of your family—Ekko, you, Wyeth, and Violet—all smiling and holding hands beneath the glowing canopy of the tree. The fireflies painted around the edges seemed to dance, their light giving the mural a soft, almost magical quality.
You stepped closer, your fingers brushing over the bark.
“Ekko…” you whispered, unable to find the words.
He smiled, his hand coming to rest lightly on your waist. “It’s us,” he said softly.
“My wife, our babies, and me. The people who mean everything to me.”
You turned to him, emotions swirling in your chest, but before you could respond, he took both of your hands in his. His expression turned serious, his eyes locking onto yours.
“I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice low but steady. “About yesterday. About everything. I don’t know why I said what I said—I felt so strange, so out of it—but I know that doesn’t excuse it.” His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself to you. “I just want you to know how much I love you. You, Wyeth, Violet. You’re my whole world, and I’m going to make sure today is Violet’s best first birthday ever.”
His words were earnest, his gaze unflinching. He lifted your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each of them before leaning forward, aiming to kiss you properly.
Before his lips could meet yours, a familiar voice groaned from behind.
Wyeth’s loud protest made you both turn. He stood a few steps away, his face scrunched in exaggerated disgust.
Ekko laughed, scooping the boy up in one swift motion.
“What? You don’t want Mommy and Daddy kissing?”
“No!” Wyeth giggled, squirming as Ekko nuzzled him.
“Well, too bad, but don’t think you’re safe, buddy. I’ve got kisses for you too!”
Wyeth squealed as Ekko peppered his face with kisses, his laughter filling the air. You couldn’t help but join in, tickling his sides as he giggled uncontrollably.
“Okay, okay! Stop!” Wyeth cried, still laughing as he wriggled free.
At that moment, a familiar voice called from the distance.
“Well, look who we have here!”
Wyeth’s head snapped toward the entrance, his eyes lighting up.
“Grandpa Benzo!” he yelled, bolting toward the sound of his grandfather’s voice.
Ekko set his son down and watched him run off before turning back to you. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close. His voice dropped to a low murmur, meant only for you.
“Don’t think I’m done with you yet. I’ll leave it pending till tonight.” he said, his tone dripping with playful promise. He winked at you before turning to follow Wyeth, leaving you standing alone by the mural.
You exhaled deeply, hugging yourself as you looked up at the painting. It was vibrant, alive, full of hope and love.
You smiled softly. You chose well.
tags: @bbybubbles @bookies16 @xelzaria @honeyfewr @bubblegupyy @iwasholic @chaeisbroke @emforjin @itszazouu @kriss-w @moonlight-dreamer04 @iloveavatar @sturngs
