Hiiiii! I freaking had a cuteness attack with the recent fic you wrote about the guys having baby fever, sooo I was wondering if you can write like a part 2 where itâs them with babies! :D
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⤡ đŹđ˛đ§đ¨đŠđŹđ˘đŹ.á- ever since that night when you two made physical love, the grinding and slow movements turned it into a night you would never forget. but then something unexpected came along⌠your pregnancy. congratulationsâyouâre officially pregnant with their baby. everyone is excited⌠until itâs time for you to give birth. everything changes the moment he sees the baby you and he created together. through the years, what kind of dad would he be now?
⤡ đđđđđŽđŤđ˘đ§đ .á- enjin ৴ tamsy ৴ zanka ৴ corvus ৴ august ৴ gris ৴ follo ৴ fu ৴ zodyl ৴ jabber
ever since that night, you woke up feeling different. your body felt slow, heavy, and your stomach stayed uneasy no matter what you did. days passed, and the sickness refused to leave. mornings were the worst, but even at night your head spun. the thought slowly crept into your mind, quiet but persistentâyou might be pregnant.
when you finally took the pregnancy test, your hands were shaking. the positive result made your chest tighten. fear and emotion rushed over you all at once. you sat there for a long time, staring at it, wondering how you were supposed to tell enjin. you were scared he wouldnât be ready. scared youâd cry. scared of everything changing.
instead of telling him right away, you decided to surprise him.
when enjin came home from training, tired like always, you greeted him normally, hiding your nerves. on the table sat a small box. inside was the pregnancy test and a tiny baby shirt folded neatly. you sat beside him, heart pounding, waiting for him to open it.
when he realized what he was holding, he froze. his eyes widened, his breath hitched. then his face softened, and a quiet laugh slipped out.
he looked at you, shocked and smiling at the same time. without saying much, he pulled you into his arms and held you tightly. he whispered that he was happy, that he couldnât believe he was going to be a father.
the months that followed were hard on your body. your belly grew week by week, and everything felt heavier. some days you were sore, tired, and emotional. other days you just wanted to rest and cry. enjin never left your side.
he watched you closely, always asking if you were okay. he woke up at 5 am just to get your cravings, even if they were strange or embarrassing. even if it meant driving far. he never complained once.
when it was time to give birth, enjin was terrified. his hands shook as he stayed beside you. he cried quietly, afraid he might lose you. the room felt heavy until suddenly the sound of a baby crying filled the air.
he broke down completely.
âitâs a girl!!â the doctor said.
enjin laughed through his tears. he smiled as he looked at you both, then leaned down and kissed your forehead. he thanked you over and over for bringing their child into the world. when he finally held her, his heart nearly stopped. she had his blonde hair and his eyesâbut the shape of her eyes was yours. she was small, warm, and perfect.
as she grew, enjin couldnât stop admiring her.
even though she looked like him, she had your attitude completely. she was stubborn, expressive, and full of emotion and a bit cocky just like him. when she crossed her arms or gave a look, enjin would laugh softly and say she got that from you. when she talked back or pouted, he never got madâhe was too proud.
he became fiercely protective. he watched everyone around her closely, always standing near. if she fell, he was there instantly. if she cried, his heart broke. he spoiled her endlessly. when she asked for something, he rarely said no. when you said no, he would hesitate⌠then smile and say yes anyway.
she climbed onto his lap whenever she wanted, and he let her stay there as long as she liked. she played with his hair, tugged his clothes, bossed him aroundâand he let her. every time she smiled, he felt his chest ache with love.
to enjin, she wasnât just his daughter.
she was a perfect mix of both of youâand the greatest thing he had ever created.
𣲠TAMSY CAINES (BOY DAD)
tamsy didnât need a surprise. he knew. when your period came late, he noticed immediately. he didnât say anything, but his eyes lingered on you longer than usual. then your body began to changeâyour stomach swelling just slightly, your movements slower, your energy fading quicker.
he watched every detail in silence. by the time you started feeling uneasy, he already understood. after a month, you went to the doctor together. the room smelled clean and cold as you sat on the bed, hands folded tightly in your lap.
when the doctor finally spoke and confirmed itâyou were pregnantâyour heart skipped. tamsy only nodded once, calm and unreadable, as if this was something he had already accepted in his mind. a week later, you returned for another appointment.
this time, to find out the gender. you lay back as the doctor began the scan. the room went quiet except for the low hum of the machine. the doctor frowned slightly, adjusting the screen, then paused.
your breath caught. then they smiled.
âyouâre having twins.â
the words hit you all at once. twins. two babies. two heartbeats. your chest tightened as emotion rushed in.
when the doctor continued, saying âboth are boys,â you felt overwhelmed, scared, and excited all at the same time. tamsy froze for a brief moment. twin boys. his eyes stayed locked on the screen, watching the two tiny shapes moving. slowly, a small smile appeared on his face. boys. his sons.
he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently, grounding both of you in the moment. throughout the months, tamsy took full control of your care. he made you sit and rest while he did everything else. if you stood for too long, he was there, guiding you back down. he cooked, cleaned, and watched you closely, always calm, always firm. your comfort became his priority.
when the day of labor arrived, the air felt heavy. tamsy stayed by your side, looking composed, his voice steady as he spoke to you. but inside, fear churned violently.
what if something went wrong? what if he lost youâor the babies? he didnât let the fear show. he couldnât. hours dragged on painfully. your body shook with exhaustion.
doctors and nurses moved quickly around you, voices low but urgent. tamsy held your hand tightly, whispering reassurance, his grip never loosening. then the first cry rang out.
your first son was born. tamsyâs breath hitched, his eyes filling as he looked at the tiny life placed into the doctorâs arms. but before he could fully process it, movement continued. the room stayed tense. then came the second cry.
both babies were finally here. relief crashed over him so hard his knees nearly gave out. you were alive. the babies were alive. everything he feared melted away in that moment.
when he finally saw them, his heart swelled painfully. both boys looked exactly like him, with those angelic, beautiful eyes. one had your hair color, soft and familiar. the other had hisâlong, wild white-blonde hair styled upward, with navy blue underneath and a faint hint of your color hidden beneath.
perfect, fragile, and beautiful.
as the months passed, tamsy became a calm, strict kind of father. he watched his sons carefully, guiding them with patience and discipline.
he didnât speak much, but his presence alone commanded attention. quietly, subtly, he showed them how to observe others, how to stay composed, how to hide emotion behind controlânot through words, but through his actions. still, there was hope.
because no matter how much of they slowly acted like him, they also carried youâyour warmth, your heart, your humanity.
and maybe, in the end, they wouldnât become like him.
𣲠ZANKA NIJIKU (AGED UP TO 20+ & BOY DAD)
ever since that night, you woke up feeling off. your body felt sore in a way you werenât used to, and your stomach twisted every morning. days passed, then weeks, and the feeling didnât fade. no matter how much you tried to ignore it, something felt different.
when you finally took the pregnancy test and saw the positive result, your breath caught. fear came first, then emotion. zanka wasnât someone who showed his feelings easily, and you didnât know how he would react. you sat there for a long time, staring at the test, before gathering the courage to tell him.
when you showed it to him, he went quiet. he stared at it, jaw tight, eyes unreadable. seconds passed in silence before he looked at you. his expression softenedâjust slightly. he didnât smile, but something in him shifted. he nodded once and said he would take responsibility. from that moment on, he never left your side.
throughout the months, zanka stayed close. he didnât speak softly or coddle you, but his actions were constant. he made sure you rested, made sure you ate, made sure you were comfortable. if you stood too long, he told you to sit. if you were tired, he brought you what you needed without asking. his care was quiet, steady, and unbreakable.
when the day of birth arrived, zanka stood beside you, calm on the outside. inside, fear churned violently. memories of his childhood surfacedâfeeling weak, unwanted, useless. he clenched his fists as he waited, terrified something would happen to you or the baby.
then the cry filled the room.
when the doctor placed the baby in his arms, his breath hitched. the child was small, warm, and trembling.
the baby had your features firstâyour soft face, your nose, your gentle expression. but then he noticed the details that mirrored him too. the sharp line of the jaw already forming. the shape of the eyesâhis eyes. dark, intense, familiar. the brows, the way the babyâs mouth tightened when he cried. a perfect mix of both of you.
ever since that night, everything changed.
when your son was still smallâbarely able to walkâzanka watched him with the same sharp focus he used in battle. but now, that focus softened in ways only you ever saw.
your toddler followed him everywhere. small footsteps trailing behind heavy ones. whenever zanka stopped, the boy would bump into his leg and cling to his pants, looking up at him with wide eyes. zanka would sigh quietly, pretending to be annoyed, but he never shook him off. instead, heâd slow his steps so the boy could keep up.
sometimes, when zanka trained early in the morning, your son would waddle over with a tiny wooden stick, copying his movements. his stance was messy, his balance terrible. zanka knelt down, adjusted his feet gently, and guided his hands. when the boy managed to stand still for even a second, zanka nodded once.
the boy beamed like heâd won the world.
during meals, your son insisted on sitting next to him. heâd push food toward zanka with chubby hands, trying to âshare.â zanka accepted every time, even if it was messy or half-chewed. when the boy spilled something, zanka cleaned it without scolding, simply reminding him to be careful.
at night, your son often crawled into zankaâs lap, small hands gripping his shirt. zanka would freeze at first, unsure, then slowly rest a hand on the boyâs back. he stayed still until the child fell asleep, breathing soft and warm against his chest.
sometimes your son tugged at zankaâs hair, fascinated by its texture. zanka let him. other times, the boy pressed his forehead against zankaâs, copying the way zanka did with you. those moments made zankaâs chest ache in a way he didnât understand.
when the boy cried after falling, zanka didnât panic. he lifted him carefully, wiped his tears with his thumb, and told him it was okay. not weak. not bad. just learning.
you often caught zanka carrying him on his shoulders, one hand holding the boyâs leg tightly so he wouldnât fall. the boy laughed loudly, pointing at everything, while zanka walked steadily, listening to every sound he made.
sometimes his baby boy smiled just like youâbright and warm. other times, his expression hardened into something that looked too much like zanka himself. in those moments, zanka felt a strange mix of pride and fear.
he pushed his son to be strong, but he stayed close. when the boy doubted himself, zanka didnât turn awayâhe stayed, guiding him through it. when the boy failed, zanka didnât shame himâhe taught him how to rise again.
at night, when the house was quiet, zanka would stand by his sonâs door, watching him sleep. he saw you in the peaceful curve of his face, and himself in the strength waiting beneath it.
𣲠ARKHA CORVUS (GIRL DAD)
ever since that lovely night, corvus had changed in ways few people ever noticed.
when you first suspected you were pregnant, he didnât panic or react loudly. he simply observed you quietly, noticing the little changesâyour tired eyes, the way you moved slower, how your stomach began to swell. he didnât speak, but he stayed close, silently ready for whatever came next.
a week later, you went to the doctor together. the sterile room smelled faintly of antiseptic, and your hands were tightly clasped in your lap. corvus stood beside you, calm and unreadable, but his eyes followed every movement of the doctor. when the confirmation cameâyes, you were pregnantâhe simply nodded once, already thinking about what was to come.
and a couple weeks later, you returned for another appointment, this time to find out the gender. your heart pounded as the doctor moved the device over your belly. corvus stood silently, hands clasped behind his back, jaw tight.
âitâs a girl,â the doctor said.
the words sank in slowly, then settled over him like something he had been waiting for. a girl. his daughter.
when she was born, everything changed.
her cry filled the room, tiny and sharp. corvus leaned forward, holding his breath, as the doctor placed her in his arms. she was small, warm, and perfect. her hair was a mix of his dark curls and your softer strands, forming gentle, uneven spirals. she had your delicate features, but her eyesâthose were his. sharp, curious, always watching.
corvus didnât speak at first. he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, whispering so quietly only she could hear him.
as she grew, corvus became quietly, fiercely protective. he would carry her on his shoulders, letting her giggle and point at everything, hair bouncing wildly as she laughed.
she followed him everywhere, tugging at his pants or sleeves when she wanted attention. he would kneel down to her level, ruffling her curls and pretending to be stern while secretly laughing at her stubborn little face.
her favorite game quickly became making âsurprisesâ in his office. she would drag crayons, papers, and small toys to his desk, drawing all over documents or emptying drawers just to see what would happen. corvus, normally precise and unbothered, would freeze the first few times. then he would slowly sigh, kneel down, and look at her with mock annoyance.
âlook at this mess,â heâd say quietly, shaking his head.
she would giggle, clapping her tiny hands, proud of her handiwork. corvus would sit down beside her, carefully guiding her little hands, teaching her how to color inside the linesâor just letting her scribble wherever she wanted, because he couldnât resist her beaming smile.
sometimes she would crawl into his lap while he worked, banging softly on the papers or keyboard, her small fingers pressing random buttons. he never pushed her away. instead, he adjusted his work, resting a hand gently on her back while she explored, letting her feel included.
when she tripped or fell, he lifted her with careful hands, brushing away tears and telling her she was strong, brave, and smart. he never shouted. he never scolded harshlyâjust firm words and steady hands.
at night, she sometimes padded into your room, curls messy, eyes heavy. corvus would lift her without a word, resting her against his shoulder. she fit perfectly, warm and tiny, while he stayed still as if holding her was the most important task in the world.
but when she laughedâbright, soft, curls bouncingâhis eyes softened completely.
she was a perfect mix of both of youâhis sharpness, your warmth, her own little personalityâand corvus would make sure the world never forgot it.
he trained her, protected her, and spoiled her in the smallest ways, always careful to guide her, but never stifling the joy and chaos she brought to his otherwise orderly life.
𣲠AUGUST STILZA (GIRL DAD)
ever since that beautiful night, august had felt something newâsomething he didnât quite expect.
when you first told him you were pregnant, he didnât try to hide his excitement. he jumped, laughed, and almost bounced around the room, slapping his knee and shaking his head like he couldnât believe it. âweâre having a kid? OUR KID?!â he shouted, grinning from ear to ear. he hugged you tight, then stepped back just to look at your belly, already imagining what life would be like with a little version of you two running around. he joked constantly that she would probably inherit his loud, chaotic personalityâand the thought made him laugh until tears formed in his eyes.
throughout the months, august stayed by your side in his usual energetic way. he teased you constantly, but his teasing always came with care. he carried things for you when your belly grew heavy, brought you snacks to satisfy cravings, and insisted you rest while he did whatever work needed doing.
when you felt sore or uncomfortable, he made exaggerated grumbling noises, pretending to complain about how âhardâ it was to take care of you, but he never stopped. every action was an expression of love.
when the day came for your daughter to be born, august stayed close, holding your hand tightly, cracking nervous jokes to keep the tension away. âDON'T WORRY!!!,â he said with a grin, though his voice shook slightly. âweâre going to be FINE. youâve got me, RIGHT?â
but the moment her first tiny cry echoed in the room, his laughter died instantly, replaced with awe. his heart swelled in a way he had never imagined.
she was perfect. small, warm, and alive in his arms. her hair was a soft mix of his straight hair with your hair type strands, forming little spirals that framed her delicate face. her eyes were wide, curious, and alertâalready showing a spark that reminded him so much of himself. and yet, she carried your gentleness in her features, the curve of her lips, the softness of her cheeks. he leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, whispering quietly, âyouâre perfect⌠absolutely perfect.â
august quickly became a father who spoiled her endlesslyâbut in his own chaotic, loud, and loving way.
he started making little things for her almost immediately. tiny clothes in bright colors, stripes, polka dots, starsâanything he found fun and loud enough to match her personality. he even made her a little gas mask, pink with soft padding and her initial embroidered neatly on the side, proudly insisting she wear it when playing outside. heâd joke, âTHIS IS MY MASTERPIECE!! donât ruin it!â while secretly beaming with pride every time she toddled around wearing it.
she quickly inherited his loud, energetic personality. she laughed easily, waved her hands around when excited, and bounced from one thing to another without sitting still for more than a few seconds. august adored it.
he cheered her on constantly, copying her expressions, making funny noises, and pretending to be dramatic just to make her giggle. she would squeal with delight, clapping her tiny hands, and august would scoop her up, spinning her in the air before letting her down to bounce around some more.
her favorite âgameâ quickly became making messes in his office. crayons, papers, and little toys would end up scattered all over his desk and floor. the first time it happened, august froze mid-step, staring at the chaos. then he slowly sighed, kneeling down to her level, and said,
âOH NO⌠my kingdom!â in the most dramatic voice he could muster. she laughed hysterically, proud of herself, while he picked up the papers, pretending to scold her. sometimes he would even sit with her on the floor, showing her how to draw and colorâbut also letting her scribble wherever she wanted, because he couldnât resist her delighted smile.
meal times was another adventure. she insisted on sitting beside him, pushing food toward him with her tiny hands, trying to âshareâ everything. august accepted every bite, laughing at her determination, even if she was offering him half-chewed bites. when she spilled food on the floor or on him, he cleaned it up without scolding, shaking his head in mock horror, exclaiming, âOH NO!!! MY LITTLE BABY STRIKES AGAIN!!â she would clap her hands in laughter, thrilled by his reaction.
bed time was a favorite moment for him. she sometimes padded into your room, sleepy and quiet, hair messy from a day full of play. august would pick her up without a word, resting her against his shoulder. she fit perfectly, small and warm, and he stayed perfectly still until her breathing evened out, fingers brushing her curls as he hummed softlyâa rare moment of quiet in his otherwise loud, chaotic world.
even in everyday life, he found ways to create fun. he carried her on his shoulders around the house, letting her grab at everything she could reach, all while telling ridiculous stories in funny voices. she copied him constantly, shouting nonsense and laughing hysterically. he laughed right along with her, completely wrapped up in her energy.
she was loudâand she had his spark in every little gesture. but she also had your warmth and gentleness, balancing his wild energy in the sweetest way possible.
august rarely smiled like this for anyone else. but when his daughter laughedâbright, pure, straight hair bouncingâhis eyes softened completely, and he knew he would never stop protecting, spoiling, and loving her in his loud, chaotic way.
she was his little whirlwind, his perfect combination of both of you, and he couldnât wait to watch her grow, louder and wilder with every passing day.
𣲠GRIS RUBION (GIRL DAD)
when you first told him you were pregnant, he didnât scream or jump. he didnât even fumble for words. he just stared at you, jaw tight, eyes sharp, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. inside, though, his chest tightened. a child. his child.
a responsibility, yesâbut also something that filled him with a joy, quiet pride he hadnât expected.
the months that followed were careful and deliberate. gris stayed by your side constantly, silently watching over you. he made sure you rested when your belly grew heavy, carried things that were too much, and ensured you ate and drank enough. he didnât joke much, and his words were measured, but his care was undeniable. every glance, every small movement, was meant to remind you that he was there.
when you went to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy, gris accompanied you, silent and steady. the room smelled faintly of antiseptic, and he noted everythingâthe way the doctor moved, the monitorâs hum, the small clicks of equipment. when the confirmation cameâyes, you were pregnantâhe pressed his lips together and nodded once, eyes glinting with a fierce protectiveness.
later that same following week, you returned for another appointment, this time to find out the gender. gris stood silently beside you, jaw tight, hands clasped behind his back, watching the monitor with his usual intensity.
âitâs a girl,â the doctor said smiling.
grisâs lips pressed together, a flicker of softness passing through his eyes. a girl. his daughter. his mind went quiet as he imagined her in his arms.
when she was finally born, the first cry echoed through the room, small but sharp. gris leaned forward immediately, heart hammering, as the doctor placed her into his arms. she was tiny, warm, perfect. her hair was your color and textureâsoft, smooth strandsâbut her eyes were his. pretty, icy-blue, sharp and alert, already taking in everything around her. even in her first moments, she carried strengthâgripping his finger, kicking her tiny legs, stubborn and determined, just like him.
he froze for a long moment, pressing his forehead gently against hers. âstrong⌠just like me,â he murmured, almost to himself.
the months that followed were a careful balance of care and discipline. gris became a calm, steady, fiercely protective father. he let her explore, climb, and test her limitsâbut never out of reach, never without his watchful eye. she learned to push herself, to struggle, to get back up when she fell, and gris celebrated quietly every small victory, recognizing in her the same strength that he carried within himself.
he trained her gently, subtly, even as a toddler. teaching her balance, how to move efficiently, and control her body. when she stumbled, he guided her quietly, never scolding, always showing her the right way. she caught on quickly, stubborn and determined like him.
she followed him everywhere, small feet racing to keep up with his long strides. she tugged at his coat, grabbed his hand, and he would slow down just enough for her to match his pace. she loved being near him. she babbled and shouted constantly, her voice sharp and clear, and gris would turn to her with a faint, approving smirk, shaking his head but secretly softening every time she looked at him.
of course, there were messes. crayons on the floor, little toys scattered around, small spills. gris would freeze the first few times, assessing the situation with his calculating gaze. then he would kneel down, pick up her hands, and show her how to clean up carefully.
âbe precise,â heâd murmur quietly, and she would imitate him, trying so hard to do it correctly, learning discipline through his calm guidance.
bedtime was quiet, but sacred. she sometimes crawled into his arms, curling against his chest, breathing soft and steady. gris held her perfectly still, letting her heartbeat calm, feeling her warmth match his own. he rarely spoke in these moments, but if she looked up at him with her piercing eyes, he would nod once, approving silently, as if to say, you are strong. you are mine.
as she grew, she carried both of you in herâthe softness and gentleness of you, the strength and sharpness of him. she climbed, explored, laughed, and shouted like a small whirlwind, stubborn and determined, yet tender when she wanted to be.
your daugther became his shadow, small but adorable, quiet but unbreakable. he trained her, guided her, and protected her in ways he never allowed for himself. and as he watched her every day, he knew one thing for certain: she would never feel weak, never feel useless, and never feel alone
𣲠FOLLO TUNITO (BOY DAD)
he noticed the small changes first. the way you moved slower, how your hands sometimes shook, the soft look in your eyes when you were tired.
he didnât say much at first, but he stayed close, silently watching over you, always polite and careful. he carried things for you without being asked, offered water and food, and made sure you rested. his awkward little jokes would pop up here and thereâtripping slightly over his own feet while handing you a pillow or muttering a quiet, âsorry, I⌠I think youâll need this.â
a month later, you went to the doctor together. follo stayed close, hands folded politely in front of him, watching the doctor move with quiet attention. when they confirmed you were pregnant, his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he offered you a small, awkward smile. âwe⌠weâll do our best,â he said softly, voice low but steady, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. he would quietly do everything in his power to make sure you felt safe.
weeks later, you returned for the gender reveal. folloâs hands were clasped tightly together as the doctor moved the device across your belly. he was nervous, a bit fidgety, awkwardly clearing his throat. âuh⌠i hope⌠uh⌠everythingâs fine,â he muttered quietly.
âitâs a boy!!,â the doctor said.
his eyes widened slightly, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. a boy. his son. his mind raced with thoughtsâhow would he raise him? how could he teach him to be kind, polite, and careful, like he hoped to be?
when the day came for the birth, follo stayed by your side, holding your hand gently. he whispered encouragement in quiet, nervous bursts, tripping over his words sometimes. ây-youâre⌠amazing⌠just⌠almost there.â
the moment your sonâs cry filled the room, his chest tightened with emotion. his son was here. alive, perfect, and already holding a piece of him.
when the doctor placed the tiny boy in his arms, follo froze for a moment, overwhelmed. the babyâs features reflected both of you. he had your hair, soft and handsome like his daddy, and his yellowish eyesâthose polite, slightly shy, searching eyesâalready held the same awkward gentleness that follo had. the tiny hands gripped his finger with surprising strength, and follo let out a quiet, happy laugh.
as the months passed, follo became a careful, polite, and attentive father. he taught his son small things in ways only he could. he helped him learn manners, soft greetings, and quiet confidence. he showed him how to move politely, how to apologize sincerely, how to respect space and others.
he sometimes stumbled in his own awkward way, tripping over his words or gestures, but he laughed quietly, letting his son see that it was okay to be imperfect.
they shared small, tender moments every day. the boy would tug at folloâs sleeve when he wanted to play, and follo would kneel down politely, holding his hands gently. he taught him how to carry things carefully, how to help around the house, and how to ask for things kindly. when the boy fell or tripped, follo would lift him with soft hands, brushing away tears and whispering, âitâs okay⌠we try again, yes?â
at night, the boy would sometimes crawl into folloâs lap, small arms wrapping around him. follo would hold him quietly, humming soft little tunes, brushing his hair away from his face. he rarely smiled, but when the boy laughed or reached up to hold his hand, folloâs eyes would soften completely.
even in everyday life, they shared quiet, awkwardly sweet routinesâholding hands while walking, helping each other pick up toys, sharing soft whispers across the room.
𣲠FU OROSTOR (AGED UP TO 20+ & GIRL DAD)
ever since that night, fuâs world shifted in quiet, careful ways he never fully expected.
when you first realized you were pregnant, fuâs shyness only deepened. he didnât know how to respond at firstâwords caught in his throat, hands twitching nervously. he worried constantly, pacing slightly, muttering soft questions to himself.
but the moment you showed him the positive pregnancy test, he froze completely, eyes wide and unsure. the thought of responsibilityâof being accountable for a lifeâmade him tremble inside, yet he knew he had to face it.
he stayed close to you throughout the months, but always cautiously. he moved quietly around the house, carrying things for you, checking if you needed water or food, adjusting blankets over your shoulders. every step he took was careful, precise, as if he could break you or the baby if he wasnât careful enough. when he spoke, it was soft, almost hesitant.
âd-do you⌠need anything?â he asked often, and though the words were small, his care was immense.
fu accompanied you to the doctor, standing quietly beside you as the sterile room hummed with the faint sound of machines. he listened intently to every instruction, every word, as if memorizing each detail so he could do everything perfectly. when the doctor confirmed the pregnancy, he nodded slightly, lips pressed together, muttering almost inaudibly, âi⌠i will do my best⌠i promise.â
weeks later, you returned for the gender reveal. fuâs hands were tightly folded in front of him, shoulders tense, eyes flicking nervously between the monitor and you.
âi⌠hope everythingâs okayâŚâ he whispered, voice trembling.
âitâs a girl,â the doctor said.
fuâs eyes widened. a girl. his daughter. he swallowed hard, imagining her small, delicate form in his arms, realizing he would now be responsible for shaping a life. the thought made him both nervous and determined, his careful nature sharpening in an instant.
when she was born, her cry was soft but insistent, tiny yet strong in its own way. fu leaned forward slowly as the doctor placed her in his arms. she was warm and fragile, and he held her with trembling hands, careful not to jostle her.
her hair was a soft mix of yours and hisâyour natural color intertwined with small salmon pink roots that peeked out through her soft strands. her eyes were a bright, curious green, staring up at him with a clarity that both amazed and terrified him. she already seemed timid yet observant, like she was measuring the world carefully, just as fu always did.
he pressed his forehead gently to hers, whispering so softly only she could hear, âi⌠iâll keep you safe⌠alwaysâŚâ his voice shook slightly, but his resolve was clear.
as the months passed, fu became a careful, timid, yet devoted father. he mirrored her growing personality with his own cautious tendencies. she followed him everywhere, sometimes hesitating at the smallest step, peering up at him for guidance. he would kneel, patiently adjusting her tiny hands or guiding her step-by-step.
âno⌠thatâs fine, we try again,â he would murmur, never raising his voice, always quietly ensuring she felt safe.
she inherited his carefulness, his tendency to pause before acting, his soft, polite way of doing thingsâbut she also had sparks of curiosity and determination, especially when learning new things from him. she copied the way he moved, the way he adjusted his hands, even the small, careful hesitations he always carried. fu sometimes chuckled softly, watching her, and it was the only time he smiled openly.
her small messes were handled gently. if she spilled something or knocked over a toy, he would carefully pick her up, brush away tears, and whisper, âitâs okay⌠we clean up together.â she learned to be careful but also knew she was safe to make mistakes, because her father, like her, approached the world cautiouslyâbut with immense love.
when she toddled into the room at night, still sleepy, fu would lift her quietly, resting her in his lap or against his chest. he hummed softly, stroking her hair where the pink roots peeked out, brushing it gently from her face.
she would curl into him, trusting and small, and he would hold her until she drifted to sleep, whispering promises that he might not always understand fullyâbut meant with every fiber of his being.
as she grew, fu taught her slowly and carefully. he showed her how to balance, how to take small steps, how to navigate the world without fear. he encouraged her politeness, her caution, her careful way of observing and learning. yet he let her make her own choices too, letting her learn that even small risks could be safe in his presence.
fu rarely laughed loudly, but his daughter made him. when she smiled or giggled, bright green eyes sparkling, the corners of his mouth would twitch, and sometimes he even let out a soft, nervous laugh, catching himself in surprise.
and he promised, quietly and fiercely, that he would always be there to guide her, protect her, and let her growâteaching her to be careful, to observe, to act responsibly, but also to live and explore the world with the same quiet courage he carried inside.
𣲠ZODYL TYPHON (BOY DAD)
when you first told him you were pregnant. instead, he stared at you with his usual cold, unreadable expression, quiet and still. inside, however, something shiftedâa small flicker of something he rarely allowed himself to feel. pride, responsibility, and a strange, guarded excitement. he didnât say a word, but his hand brushed yours briefly, a gesture so subtle it could have been missed.
throughout the months, zodyl stayed close, but in his own way. he never hovered or fussed, but he made sure you were taken care of. if you were tired, he insisted you sit while he carried or moved things. if you needed food or water, he quietly provided it without fanfare. he rarely spoke, but when he did, it was direct and efficient, and somehow it felt reassuring. ârest,â he would say simply, or âbe careful,â and that alone carried more weight than hours of chatter.
the day you went to the doctor for the confirmation, zodyl followed quietly, eyes cold but attentive. he noted every detailâthe equipment, the monitor, your reactionsâabsorbing everything carefully. when the doctor confirmed you were pregnant, he nodded once, expression neutral, and returned his gaze to you. no celebration, no cheering, just a silent promise that he would shoulder the responsibility.
a day later, you returned for the gender reveal. zodylâs hands were clasped behind his back, posture rigid, expression unreadable. he watched the monitor with his usual intensity, eyes dark and calculating.
âitâs a boy,â the doctor said.
zodylâs face remained calm, but inside, a subtle tension eased. he accepted it in the quiet way he knew bestâby preparing mentally, by planning for what would come, by acknowledging his new role without fanfare. a son. someone to shape, to guide, and to watch grow.
when the day came for the birth, zodyl remained at your side, his usual stoic self. he held your hand firmly, eyes focused, heart quietly racing beneath the surface. when his sonâs first cry filled the room, a flicker of emotion passed across his faceâa rare, fleeting acknowledgment of awe.
the doctor placed the tiny boy in his arms. he was small and warm, and zodyl held him carefully, methodically, making sure every movement was precise. the childâs features mirrored yoursâsoft and delicate, your hair and gentle shape of the faceâbut the eyes⌠the eyes were his. Dark purple, cold, and intense, scanning the world with sharp awareness even as a newborn. his lips, even in tiny form, held the same firm set as zodylâs.
he pressed his forehead to his sonâs, silent, letting the connection speak for him. no words were needed. he was proud, cautious, and protective all at once.
as the months passed, zodylâs way of showing care was quiet but unmistakable. he taught his son by example: careful movements, precise actions, observing first before acting. he let the boy explore, but always within his watchful gaze. he never coddled, but he never ignored. he corrected gently, calmly, letting his son learn discipline and control naturally.
your son inherited zodylâs cold, calculating nature, but also your gentleness. he was quiet, observant, cautious, but with flashes of warmth when he smiled or reached for you or his father. zodyl recognized himself in his sonâthe same intensity, the same carefulness, the same hidden fiercenessâbut he also saw pieces of you in the softness of his features and gestures.
they shared small, rare moments of tenderness. when his son tripped or fell, zodyl lifted him calmly, brushing away tears with steady hands. when the boy babbled or showed a toy proudly, zodyl would nod, a small, almost imperceptible smile brushing his lips. he didnât shout, he didnât exaggerateâhis happiness was measured, quiet, but deeply present.
one afternoon, zodyl was working in, the quiet hum of papers and careful organization filling the room. his son toddled in, holding a small, slightly crooked stack of building blocks. he looked up at zodyl with a shy smile, dark purple eyes sparkling, and whispered, âdaddy⌠build?â
zodyl paused, his fingers resting on the papers in front of him. for a long moment, he considered returning to workâbut then he saw the hopeful look in his sonâs eyes and something inside him softened, almost imperceptibly.
âalright,â he said quietly, voice low but steady. he carefully set aside the papers and lowered himself to the floor. his sonâs face lit up immediately, and he scrambled over to zodyl, handing him the blocks one by one with careful precision.
they built quietly together, side by side. zodyl guided his sonâs hands, showing him how to balance the blocks without knocking over the tower, but he never took over. instead, he let his son try, watch, and learnâcorrecting gently when needed.
at one point, the little boy stacked a block too high, and the tower wobbled dangerously. it toppled over with a soft crash. his sonâs eyes widened, and he bit his lip, expecting scolding.
zodyl, however, only let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, then leaned close and whispered, âitâs alright. we try again. together.â he picked up a few blocks and handed them to his son, who immediately giggled and resumed building.
they spent the next half hour stacking, toppling, and rebuilding towers, laughing softly in shared quiet. zodylâs hand rested lightly on his sonâs back when he leaned too far or wobbled, and the boy learned quickly to rely on his fatherâs steady presence.
later, when the boy leaned against him, tired from playing, zodyl simply held him in his arms, forehead pressed gently to the top of his sonâs, feeling the steady rise and fall of his small chest. his son yawned and mumbled softly, âlove you, daddy.â
zodylâs lips twitched in the faintest, almost imperceptible smile. âi⌠love you too,â he whispered, holding him a little closer.
at night, when the boy curled into his lap, zodyl would hold him with careful precision, letting him rest against his chest. he rarely spoke, but his hands would gently stroke his sonâs hair, dark and soft, and his presence alone was enough to soothe the boy.
your softness, his coldness, your warmth, his strength. zodylâs love was quiet, calculated, and protective. he rarely expressed it openly, but in every careful gesture, every watchful glance, every steady hand guiding his child, it was clear: he was proud, he was devoted, and he would guard his son with all the quiet, formidable strength he possessed.
𣲠JABBER WONGER (BOY DAD)
he had known something was changing the moment your belly began to swell. when you told him for sure, his hot pink eyes practically glowed with manic excitement. âa boy?â he shouted, as he knew something in his guts saying it was a boy.
grinning like heâd just won some insane bet. âour boy?â he paced around, hands flailing slightly, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. beneath the chaos, there was a flicker of something carefulâa tiny spark of pride he rarely let anyone see.
throughout the months, jabber stayed close in his own intense, chaotic way. he carried things for you, fussed over your comfort, tripped over his own feet constantly, muttered frantic apologies while handing you water, and made sure you were eating enough. every movement was dramatic, over-the-top, but filled with love.
weeks later, the day came for your gender check at the doctorâs office. jabber was bouncing slightly in the waiting room, hands fidgeting, muttering nervously. âi⌠i hope itâs okay⌠please be okayâŚâ he whispered repeatedly. when the doctor finally moved the device over your belly, his hot pink eyes were fixed on the monitor, pupils wide, body tense.
âitâs a boy,â the doctor said.
jabberâs mouth fell open, and then he practically leaped into the air, clapping his hands and shouting, âyes! yes! a boy!â his voice echoed wildly in the small room. he immediately grabbed your hands, staring at you with wide, frantic excitement. âour son⌠our little chaos⌠heâs coming!â
when the day came for the birth, jabber stayed at your side, a whirlwind of nerves and manic energy. he muttered encouragements constantly, stumbling over his words: âyouâre⌠amazing ma⌠almost there⌠stay with me mamas!â and when the first cry rang out, his body froze. his son was alive. perfect.
the doctor placed the tiny boy in his arms. his hair was soft like yours, flowing gently, but his eyes⌠his eyes were hot pink, just like jabberâs. they glowed with intensity and curiosity, wide and observing. the boyâs tiny hands gripped jabberâs finger, and jabber let out a low, delighted laugh, pressing his forehead to the newbornâs. ây-you⌠youâre perfect,â he whispered, voice shaking.
as the months passed, his son got his fatherâs energy in small, chaotic ways. he lined up toys to fight, armies of blocks, animals, and figures clashing endlessly. jabber would crouch beside him, eyes sparkling, helping him tilt a toy or position a hand. âyes! strike him there! higher! perfect!â heâd shout, and the boy squealed with delight, copying every gesture, every tiny shout.
they spent hours in this wild rhythm, building, crashing, laughing, and shouting together. jabberâs son learned strategy, timing, and chaos while having fun, all under the watchful, intense guidance of his father. even when a tower collapsed, jabber would simply pick up the pieces, brush off his sonâs hands, and whisper, âitâs okay⌠we try again. together.â
one afternoon, the boy toddled into jabberâs workspace, holding a tiny, slightly battered toy sword in one hand and a small plastic shield in the other. his hot pink eyes sparkled with mischief and excitement. âdaddy⌠fight!â he squealed, holding the sword up and wobbling on his little legs.
jabber froze for a moment, a wild grin spreading across his face. âoh, you want to fight, huh?â he asked, crouching down to the boyâs level. his voice was playful, low, and dramatic. âalright⌠but remember⌠no mercy!â
the boy squealed louder, charging at him with his tiny sword. jabber let out a theatrical groan, raising his hands to âdefendâ himself, and the two clashed in a flurry of plastic swords and laughter. jabber let the boy âwinâ a few times, only to dramatically stagger back, pretending to be defeated, then lean close and whisper, âyouâre strong⌠really strong.â
after a few minutes, the boy collapsed onto jabberâs lap, giggling uncontrollably. jabber held him close, fingers brushing his soft hair, and whispered quietly, âyouâre amazing⌠my little mini me.â the boy hugged him tightly, resting his head against jabberâs chest, tiny legs kicking in excitement.
then, as if remembering his playful energy, the boy poked jabber in the side. âagain, daddy! again!â
jabber laughed softly, a rare, almost gentle sound for him, and lifted the boy onto his shoulders. the boy squealed with delight as jabber strutted around the room, pretending to battle invisible foes, swinging him gently from side to side. his sonâs laughter filled the room, bright and loud, and jabber felt a warmth in his chest he rarely let himself admit.
after a while, the boy yawned, exhausted from their little battle. jabber lowered him onto his lap, cradling him gently, pressing his forehead to his sonâs. ârest now⌠my little fighter,â he murmured softly. the boy snuggled closer, hands clutching jabberâs shirt, and jabber stayed still, holding him tight, feeling an intense pride and love that didnât need words.
bedtime was calm but still filled with care. the boy would curl into jabberâs lap, exhausted from the dayâs play. jabber held him close, brushing back his soft hair, humming softly while his hot pink eyes softened completely. he whispered, âyouâre mine⌠and strong,â and the boy nuzzled into him, safe and content.
their bond was chaotic, intense, and utterly perfect. his son carried your gentleness and his wild energy, his eyes bright like jabberâs, his tiny hands already learning control and precision. together, they created a small universe of play, laughter, and strategy, a space where energy and love existed side by side.
ăŠvalentinesxoxoË ŕź ŕłâď˝ĄË ă
(a/n- soo... how are we liking the new style ehhh??... hot pink maybe was the move :3.. anyways i hope these were accurate.. i just picked which one i was more spiritually connected to, LMAOAO GOODBYE)
