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wintergojo · 2 years

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dkahkdhakdha imagine dadgojo and his little dumpling on the hunt/search of chocolate eggs scattered and hidden around the house while wearing little bunny ears and carrying a little basket! the entire scene being so adorable and funny kdjhakdhakd. Gojo tried to eat one but the little one scolded him because they can't eat until they find them all. gojo helping him reach the ones hidden on high places while S/o is enjoying the view and snaping pics of this wholesome moment :')

anon this was such a cute idea ( ๑>ᴗ<๑ ) tho i’m really really really sorry it took me so long to respond and it’s not even easter month anymore 😭😭😭

"yuweka!!"

your toddler's squeals echoed throughout your down floor bathroom as he found the sixth easter egg you and your husband had hidden around the house. you capture the moment with your phone, smiling tenderly at how your baby adorably mispronounces 'eureka' every time he spots a small oval-shaped object.

"dada, lookie!" your son effortlessly raises his light blue basket full of the medium-sized chocolate eggs he had already found. the said eggs made by you and satoru after tucking seishiro into sleep last night had a tempered chocolate as the outermost layer, a lemon drizzle flavored sponge cake as the inner layer, and a raspberry filling as the innermost layer. the whole egg was homemade and made with buckets of his parents’ love, except for its wrapper which was a variety of colorful patterned beeswax paper that you ordered from amazon japan (satoru refused to use colored aluminum foils as they weren't reusable).

the father, wearing his white and blue bunny ears, beams at his son before praising him for his efforts, "great job, dumpling! i wonder where the rest are? hmmm." the older man then comically looks up in contemplation as he holds his chin with his thumb and index finger.

seishiro lets out a giggle before toddling excitedly out of the bathroom, his cerulean eyes immediately scanning his surroundings like a predator hunting for a prey (in his case chocolate eggs).

it's cute. how your baby tries his very best to appear intimidating as he whips his head back and forth. yet with him holding that little basket you yourself crotched while wearing those white and purple fluffy bunny ears that match his hair, he just looks like a tiny kitten searching for a carrot.

your little boy was so excited for his second easter egg hunting that he managed to wake up fifteen minutes before seven a.m., throwing you and satoru off when he suddenly appeared screaming "eggies!!" while you were still setting up for his egg hunt. (you had to convince him to eat his breakfast first as your husband continued hiding the eggs.)

seishiro makes his way back to the living room, carefully climbing the marbled stairs with his short chubby legs while singing some gibberish cartoon theme and holding his father's hand. he lets go of the taller man's hand and runs straight towards the balcony as soon as he steps on the last case, tiptoeing to pull the glass door's lock down and sliding it to the right with his brute strength.

as the child snickers and runs outside, you and your husband look at each other with your mouths agape. you’re quite sure you were both thinking about the same thing. 'since when could our baby do that?' and 'do we have to toddler-proof the balcony?’

your balcony is a wide, L-shaped deck with 20-inch-tall glass balustrades on the edges covered with bushes of hydrangea and an L-shaped white outdoor couch positioned on the intersection. in front of the sofa was a matching 1.5-million-yen white boca de lobo lapiaz oval center table containing the hidden chocolate egg you hid with satoru earlier.

adjacent to the couch and to the side of the wall was a small infinity pool where the three of you occasionally swim, and an outdoor rattan lying bed your family rests in after a fun pool day.

you watch your baby whip his head all around his surroundings, platinum eyebrows adorably scrunched up as he walks towards the shrubs and crouches down to inspect them. you and satoru keep your distance from him, but still heavily on guard in case the toddler suddenly loses his balance and falls face down (you know the glass railings are more than sturdy and won’t shatter if that happens, but you’re both highly paranoid and unreasonable when it comes to seishiro’s safety).

“aw yew hiw, eggies?” you hear the toddler murmur while combing through the bushes, before he gets momentarily distracted by the fully bloomed pink hydrangea that came into his view.

your baby seemed to be deep in thought as he inspected the flower carefully, even putting his basket down at his side and muttering something to himself quietly. satoru asked his dumpling if he found hydrangea pretty, but seishiro was too immersed in touching the pink flower to even hear his father.

the toddler finally nods with resolution before using his two little hands to pluck the blossom and place it alongside his easter eggs. he looks at the both of you afterwards, standing up (but not before kissing the plant and apologizing to it) and running towards you while carrying his little basket.

your baby stands in front of you shyly, fiddling with the coral flower resting on the eggs as if he's hesitant to say something.

and you absolutely can't have that—seishiro thinking that he should not (or could not) voice out his concerns to his parents is a no-no.

so you and satoru automatically crouch down to his eye level, the white-haired sorcerer even lifting the child up to sit on his thigh.

"what's wrong, dumpling? hmm?" your husband asks while attempting to make eye contact with the boy. you, on the other hand, card your hand through your child’s locks on his forehead to keep his silky hair from blocking his eyes.

seishiro just snickers and sticks his tongue out at his father (who exaggeratingly gasped), before turning to you and meekly offering you the fully bloomed pink hydrangea. "pwetty fyowew fow pwetty mama!" he cheerfully declares as he stands up and presses a wet kiss full of adoration from his little heart on your cheek.

"ow ow ow ow dumpling, dada's hair! dada's hair!!"

your husband's dramatic cries were overpowered by your toddler's angelic laugh as he sat on his father's nape, pulling the older man's thick platinum hair to control wherever he wanted to go.

you continue taking pictures of their moment, zooming in fondly at your phone to look at the perfectly candid photograph of your baby boy gripping his father's hair with his eyes scrunched closed and mouth formed into a wide smile. said father below him had the same expression, although his face was contorted into something that looked awfully akin to pain (maybe he wasn't being dramatic after all).

seishiro is now on his second to the last egg, scouting the top of the kitchen shelves after finding three hidden at the top of his playroom cabinets. he probably got tired asking his older carbon copy "dada, can you wift seishi?" every time he thinks he spots something small oval-shaped object, so he asked to just sit on the back of his father's head the moment the three of you left the room.

“sowwy, dada.” the boy rubs satoru’s head with his chubby little hands and presses his lips onto the thick tufts of white hair. he then gives the chocolate egg he grabbed from one of the cupboards to his father who was currently holding the now tiny basket in his left hand.

just when your baby was about to go back to pulling his father's hair to maneuver out of the kitchen and look for the last egg, the sound of paper rustling immediately reached his ears. he looked down and saw his own father unwrapping the egg the boy had just given.

satoru was about to put the treat in his mouth when a pair of small soft hands suddenly covered his open mouth and a cheeky giggle was released, prompting your husband to look up and attempt to speak through a muffled voice.

“dada… can’t eat seishi’s eggies… untiw we find… ow eggies!” your baby eloquently says, astonishing both you and your husband (most especially your husband, who didn’t even notice that seishiro had already grabbed the treat from his fingers and handed it to you instead).

satoru then suddenly lifts seishiro off his nape and sits him on the countertop while you slowly walk towards them.

"since when could you speak so well, huh, dumpling? since when?" your husband starts attacking the boy with neck kisses, making seishiro laugh and squirm around while struggling to answer his father. you join in satoru’s kiss assault, blowing raspberry on your toddler's belly and wish for your precious baby to never grow up.

happy super late easter!!(?) hehe

navi

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wintergojo · 2 years

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hahaahah pain. imagine always texting gojo “come back to me” when he goes away on missions and the day he gets sealed you had found out you were pregnant so you texted him “come back to us” but he didn’t see it. the second he gets out of the box he’s looks at his phone only to see your message and all the gears click in his head. he warps to you and slams the front door of your shared house open. youre standing in the kitchen with your baby bump prominently showing after he missed months of your pregnancy already. he walks as fast and carefully as he could to you with tears in his eyes and just drops to his knees clinging to you. all he can utter out is “i’m sorry” over and over and over again. until he finishes with “i’ll always come back to you” while your hands soothe down his rumpled hair.

nooo anon this legit made me so sad T_T how dare u >:( /j

like imagine how playful those “come back to me” texts would be because u know he’ll always do. and then one night on halloween u were in the bathroom taking the pregnancy test and gojo doesn’t know when he suddenly shouts “i’ll head out for a bit. i love you!” then u see the test is positive so u texted him like “i’ll show u something, come back to us” but he never replies nor reads the text then later on u find out that he got locked in the box i mean T_T ur world just shatters & now u have his baby u weren’t sure if u want to keep it

the end of everything (husband!gojo x wife!reader)

tags: manga spoilers, angst with a happy ending, although honestly it wasn't as angsty as i thought it was, a grain of fluff/domesticity, emotional gojo, mentions of pregnancy, death, kissing, geto suguru, fushiguro toji

wc: 2.4k

navi

additional note: we don't know if gojo's ever gonna get unsealed (and tbh i'm losing hope) so when he comes back here i just based it on how many months a very very prominent bump would be lolz. you'd also notice that i didn't put much detail on how gojo got unsealed bc i have no idea how it'd go ✌🤭

when the two of you still weren’t dating and were in some sort of ‘we’re friends and yes we feel something for each other but no we aren’t a couple' relationship, it was gojo’s habit to send you short videos of himself acting like he’s moping around your apartment while muttering your name and chanting “come home” whenever you go on long missions.

there were times when the videos he sent consisted of him in a dark room, your duvet on top of his head (you could tell because of the pattern), two of your scented candles lit beside him on your bed, and a picture frame of a very horrible candid photograph of you he was hugging like you were dead.

it pissed you off and made you miss him at the same time because he looked like an abandoned little puppy. so sometimes you just dragged him along with you or cut the mission short in less than four days to get him to stop (and be with him sooner).

at first, you never really got the reason why he kept doing that when he knew you would come home eventually. but after he told you about the time he fought fushiguro toji and knocked on death's door, you finally understood.

so when he embarked on another long journey of exorcising curses the next day, you started the habit of texting him "come back to me safe" as soon as he got out of the door and he always, always texted you back with “i’ll always do! (ʃƪ˶˘ ﻬ ˘˶)”.

without fail, without exceptions, without inconsistency, however late it was, however early it was, whatever godforsaken time it was at three o’clock in the morning, his response would always be there along with some picture of him doing a peace sign and a pout on his stupid adorable kissable face you just want to bite.

you really should’ve known better than to grow complacent.

it was just a normal night. halloween. he wanted to go out for some dinner but you were too tired to walk at night.

it was a few minutes to seven p.m. so you were standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil so you could cook the udon noodles you were going to wrap on the tempura to make the dish look a little halloween-y. behind you was your husband in the form of gojo satoru, lanky but muscular arms wrapped around your waist.

his face was buried on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your neck as he hummed some tune he heard from a television commercial. you still remember how his soft, glossy lips started ghosting from the back of your ear to your shoulder as he started slowly swaying the both of you to his humming, and how in the middle of that, you suddenly got the urge to urinate so you turned around, tiptoed, and pecked him softly on the mouth before you told him to “watch the noodles, ‘toru. i’m going to the bathroom”.

you still remember how you took the two boxes of pregnancy tests that had been feeling too heavy out of your pockets, and how in the middle of doing your business, gojo knocked on the door and informed you through the wall that a curtain was cast at shibuya.

his voice at that time was still his usual high-pitched, cheery, enthusiastic, unbothered tone; like he was expecting other sorcerers to be able to handle the brewing mess.

you still remember the way he suddenly got silent when you asked if they needed him, and how after exactly 17 seconds later just when you were finishing up, you heard his voice again. that time it was low-pitched, serious, somber, dull; you could tell he received some sort of message that he was holding himself back from telling you.

“i’m being summoned, baby. i’ll see you later. i love you.”

you didn’t even have the time to respond before you felt his presence disappear. he teleported. you knew that meant he was in a hurry.

thinking back, you really should’ve told him to go inside so he saw what you were doing. this may be bold of you to think of, but maybe he wouldn’t have left if you did.

that night, you received the two biggest news of your life.

first, a few minutes after your husband left, you found out that all your suspicions about your missed period, frequent urination, fatigue, and mood swings were right. you were, indeed, pregnant.

at 7:04 p.m., you sent your husband the usual text with a tiny modification.

come back safe to us, toru. i have something to tell you.

you sent a photo.

-.-

second, a few hours after your husband left, you found out that, well, he had been sealed.

on the upside, it finally answered your questions as to why you never heard back from him, why he never read your text, and why he never sent you his usual response.

on the downside, he was now treated as a criminal in the jujutsu society, getting him out of that stupid box would be considered a crime, itadori's sentence was back, japan was in chaos, the world will soon be in chaos, you don't know when he was going to be back, you don't know how he was inside, you don't know if he's safe, you don't know when he would come home, if he would come home.

oh. and you also have his baby who you're going to have to take care of for the rest of your life. alone. possibly.

for the rest of the following days, you were disoriented. how was he feeling? when he found out that the man he had killed, his best friend, his one and only, was back? was he devastated? hurt? shocked? confused?

why didn't you go with him? why didn't you go out of that door for a few seconds to have one last moment with him? hug him? kiss him goodbye? tell him you love him? that he will be the only man you would ever love? that you're so happy he chose you? that you would wait forever until he comes back to you? that you would give anything just so he comes back to both of you?

there's no way you could've known.

those were shoko's words to you when she came to the apartment to check on your well-being two days after the incident. she was worried about not having heard anything from you.

"before he went to the elders, satoru came to school and made me promise to look after you if anything happens."

"so he knew something was going to happen."

"he's very intuitive, after all. so how have you been feeling?"

"oh, you know. the usual feelings when you've been given news that your husband might never come back; devastated, exhausted, grieving,

…pregnant."

a beat, shoko's droopy eyes widen.

"what the hell?"

the doctor's visit was the catalyst for you to decide what your next move would be.

frankly, you had second thoughts about whether you wanted to join the culling game or if you wanted to keep the child. because god knows you can't do both.

but for once, you decided to be selfish.

the fetus in your womb was the most important reminder you would have of your sealed husband that you could hold for years. you were dead set on protecting your baby, even if it meant escaping japan like some wanted criminal and going to another country until everything else settles.

for half a year, you went through the pregnancy all by yourself in some foreign nation where you knew no one. every hour of the day, you messaged your husband, hoping deep inside that one day, the all-familiar 'read' would appear in the conversation signaling the end of your nightmare.

you told him about your morning sickness, mood swings, all your cravings, sleepless nights, hormonal changes, and whenever you feel your child kick.

he seems strong, toru.

that's good, isn't it?

he probably got it from you.

humorously, you never explicitly told him that you were pregnant.

at the start of your third trimester, you decided to go back to japan when you deemed it would be fine to. shoko constantly updated you about everything. the aftermath, who died, who almost died, who survived, how many funerals you missed.

when you were about to board the plane, you sent a text to your husband.

we're about to go back to tokyo.

i can't believe it's been 7 months.

can you, satoru?

i really hope you come back soon.

it's so hard without you.

we miss you so much. i love you.

he loves you too, btw. he just kicked me.

time doesn’t pass inside the prison realm.

gojo had no idea how long he had been trapped, how long he had been sealed. how long his students had to fight without him, to save him.

how many days, months, or years you waited for him.

the moment he got out, everything was fuzzy; his brain couldn’t process anything.

gojo never slept inside the box, but he felt like the fushiguro toji incident all over again when he came face to face with death and was allowed one more chance to live. so he woke up from his coma, learned the reverse cursed technique, and warped to the sorcerer killer for payback.

except this time, what he learned was that the constant vibration in his pocket was your newly sent text messages informing him that you woke up from your nap because—

he kept kicking.

i couldn’t sleep properly.

‘he kept kicking’? are you in danger?

the gears finally started turning inside his head as he began scrolling through the rest of the messages. gojo still couldn’t really make sense of what you talked about in all those thousands of texts, but the newly appeared white bubble did.

you finally read it…

come back to us, satoru.

let’s have the udon the three of us never got to eat.

i love you.

we'll be waiting for you. always.

this time, instead of warping to the man who made the six eyes feel so useless, so powerless, and such a weak person, he goes straight to you. the second person in his life who made gojo satoru feel… satoru. the only woman who he’ll ever love and will manifest his love through a child, an heir.

his footsteps have never felt so heavy in his whole life as he arrived outside your shared home. not even when he came face to face with suguru after a year, not even when “suguru” took half of his head off and showed him that disgusting talking brain.

i wanna go back to that box.

with a deep sigh, he twisted the handle and slammed the door open. he swiftly made his way to the kitchen where he knew you would be.

and then he sees you.

despite his six eyes, every single thing in his surroundings became blurry. everything in his world slowed down, there was ringing in his ears, his heart beats too loudly for his liking, and the bitter taste of bile slowly started making its way through his mouth.

his vision focused wholly on you. only you. his baby, his wife. his wife.

it was déjà vu. as it was the moment before he got sealed.

you were standing in front of the stove, watching the pot of noodles. only this time, you're facing him, you're looking at him, you're smiling and crying.

your stomach was also sticking out waaaaay more than he remembered, and suddenly satoru is bawling as he slowly makes his way to you.

"i'm sorry, baby. i'm so sorry."

you didn't know to whom he was apologizing. or why. it's not his fault. nothing is his fault.

he was kneeling in front of you, arms wrapped around your waist with an ear pressed against your belly. you rake your hand through his unruly alabaster hair. it's amazing. how even after seven months it's still as soft and as lustrous as ever.

you missed him so much.

"did you feel that, 'toru? he seems excited to finally hear his dada's voice."

your husband closed his eyes as more tears streamed out of his eyes. he kept pressing his lips onto different parts of your stomach, his quiet mutters of "i'm sorry" never-ending. your baby responds well to his voice, kicking back every other moment.

your maternity dress had long been drenched with tears and the boiling noodles had long been saggy when gojo finally stood back up, eyes swollen and face red from all the crying. you're sure you appear the same.

and he’s finally looking at you. for the first time since he came home, he takes your face in. your face was a lot chubbier, a lot rounder. and it’s so damn cute. you were sniffing, your cheeks, philtrum, and lips were wet from crying. your eyes were puffy yet behind those orbs, gojo sees a certain glint of warmth he’s seen countless times whenever he’s with you. and it was mixed with a particular yearning he was no stranger to.

then his lips are on yours.

it’s messy and salty and sticky and one of the best kisses you two have ever shared.

your mouths were moving in sync with the same amount of fervor and god. he’s never been this deprived of anything else before.

it’s slow and sensual yet the way he devours your lips is like that of a famished man who was devoid of any food or water for years before he finally saw an oasis, a cornerstone, a life saver.

you return the same amount of passion he’s giving you, slightly swollen hands coming up to rest on his neck.

satoru wishes for the moment to last forever if it wasn’t for his need of oxygen and your need to breathe. he definitely won’t have it if you suddenly collapsed because of him.

he broke the prolonged kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he tightened his hold on your hips and started slowly swaying you side to side.

with the feeling of your warm breath fanning against his mouth and a smile adorning both of your lips, he whispers.

“no matter how long, how far, how absurd, how futile…

i’ll always come back to you.”

ps. i just want to add that the photo reader sent wasn't a pic of the pregnancy test lmao i was thinking it was probably just some kind of selfie showing her face after going to the bathroom

thank you so much for reading!! 😚 interactions & reblogs are appreciated *kith kith*

3K notes · View notes

wintergojo · 2 years

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Hi this is my first ask ever so I'm not even sure if I'm doing this right hehe XD I really love your dad!gojo and baby seishi works! Could you maybe do one where baby seishi gets a cold and gojo and reader try their best to calm down since it's his first time getting sick? Thank you!

omg anon this was actually one of the things on my list of drabble ideas ^0^ i was so excited to write when i saw this! :DD and can i just say i feel honored to be the first one to receive ur ask and that u love my fics? 😭😭 and dw there's really no format for them :33 (aside from being polite hehe)

i’m also sorry this was mainly focused on fever instead of cold, it’s bc i read that colds in babies normally has fever as the symptom and the actual cold starts after 3 days (although i cut it short here) but i still hope u enjoy this! 😚😚

cold cold cold (dad!gojo x mom!reader)

tags: tbh idk what genre this is (hurt/comfort? angst? fluff? help me pls), slice of life, just bby gojo getting sick and his parents worrying, mentions of sickness, death

wc: 2.9k (what drabble)

navi

additional note: i was actually debating whether to write seishiro as 5 months old or 13 months, but i thought 5 months would be better since they would be very new dumb parents & seishi is kinda more vulnerable at that age bc his immune system's still weak (makes them more scared) hehe

how did it come to this?

yesterday seishiro was still his energetic 5-month-old self, actively attempting to roll around and lift his head as both his parents encouraged him on. he even had enough strength to try sitting up without any support.

yes, you and your husband took him outside in the middle of winter. but it was just for 20-30 minutes to get some fresh air on the balcony.

you both made sure he was wearing layers and layers of clothes to protect him from the cold and the wind. satoru even made sure your little baby was wearing the viridescent mitten maki gave, a cute tangerine-colored bonnett nobara gifted, a pink fluffy earmuffs given by yuuji, an indigo bootie chosen by megumi, and a very thick and warm baby blue blanket you spent your whole pregnancy knitting.

yet the next morning both of you were woken up at four a.m. by the crying sound of the boy, a drastic difference from how he usually wakes up at seven a.m. without any fuss. just a toothless smile showing his tongue and a little flailing upon seeing his parents hover their face over his bassinet.

since the cot was on your side, satoru allowed you to get the baby and was about to fall back asleep when he heard you curse under your breath upon checking seishiro.

the sorcerer instantly gets up and scoots over to your side, slowly getting filled with anxiety.

the room has no light in it except for the night lamp you turned on, but satoru could see the worry starting to brew in your eyes.

"i think he has a fever, 'toru. he feels hotter than usual. what do we do? what do we do? we haven’t learned anything about this, we couldn’t even attend parenting classes, we’re not prepared at all, what if… what if–" you started panicking, lifting the crying seishiro off the crib and holding him close to your chest as you tried to shush him.

your husband frantically moves his arms around the both of you, not knowing where to put his hands nor who to hold.

"deep breaths, baby. we read about this in parenting books, remember?"

"who cares about those stupid books?! just hurry up and tell me what to do. ohmygod ohmyg–” you were cut off by seishiro crying even louder, prompting you to shift your focus back on him and settle him into a more comfortable position. “shh, baby. i'm sorry. mama and dada are here, okay? don't cry."

satoru stills. racking his brain to try and remember the contents of the chapter 'my infant is sick for the first time and i'm a shitty parent, what's next?'

he can't.

his mind is filled with too many worrisome thoughts over the possible outcomes of his son's fever to even recall what he read.

your husband pulls himself back to reality. no. he needs to think of what to do now to help his wife and his little dumpling. he refuses to even think about how this could possibly end badly.

shoko.

“i’ll call shoko! she’ll know what to do.”

the father grabs his phone from the nightstand and swiftly dials the doctor. his former classmate will most likely shout at him for calling at this hour and frankly, satoru doesn’t really care. the promise of free booze will be enough to appease her.

he waits for her to pick up while nervously pacing around the room, eyes never leaving his normally docile son he’s never been so afraid to touch. the in-depth thermography his six eyes can see is more than enough for him to tell how high the boy’s temperature is from the color vermillion spreading through his little forehead to the bright orange hue in his neck; a contrast from his mother’s pale orange face and blue cheeks.

satoru flicks the room’s light switch on and turns up the thermostat. it doesn’t matter if he or you gets too hot, seishiro needs to sweat more.

shoko answers at the eight ring, her voice obviously laden with sleep. “it’s freaking four o’clock in the morning. what do you want?”

“seishiroissickandwedontknowwhattodotellushurryup.” he all but let out all at once, pacing faster as he anticipates shoko’s directions.

“huh? what did you say? and is that seishiro i hear crying in the background?”

your husband takes a deep breath. he’s letting his anxiety get the best of him.

“seishiro has a fever and he won’t stop crying. we don’t know what to do.”

the white-haired sorcerer hears some shuffling in the background and the click of a switch. “have you taken his temperature?”

“no. we kinda focused more on making him stop crying.”

shoko’s sigh makes its way to his ears before her instructions for satoru on what to do. the man intently listens, asking some questions in between and engraving every word his friend says to his brain.

when the call ends, he sees you looking at him with hopeful eyes. “what did she say?”

“shoko said we should check his temperature first. i'll get the rectal thermometer, honey. hold on for me, okay?" he leans closer to you and the boy in your arms before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

he then slowly raises his large hand to caress the back of seishiro's small head filled with little tufts of white hair and flinches upon feeling how warm and sweaty the 5-month-old is. he feels like he just touched a metal park bench in the middle of summer.

nevertheless, the father still presses his lips onto his son's forehead and mutters 'wait for dada, okay, dumpling?' in an attempt to soothe him before abruptly standing straight and darting his head around the dim room, trying to remember where you keep the rectal thermometer.

"we keep one in the bathroom's medicine cabinet!" he hears you urgently whisper-shout amidst your son's woes.

your husband instantly teleports into the ensuite bathroom in a hurry, not even bothering to walk. he comes back in less than a second and sees you gently laying seishiro on his back, slowly unzipping his furry snorlax onesie as you sing him lullabies you both know calms the baby down.

he recalls shoko's words. wipe the tip of the rectal thermometer with cotton and rubbing alcohol. make sure it's clean and dry.

the father's moves are swift and accurate, not permitting himself to make even one small mistake as he follows the doctor's instructions. put a small amount of lubricant on the tip. ("what kind of lubricant?") anything but butter. if you have petroleum jelly that'll do.

satoru dips his knee onto the bed while holding the newly cleaned thermometer and vaseline before tenderly stroking his son’s head as he joins you in singing. seishiro's cries were instantly reduced into light sobs, puffy cerulean irises instead focusing on his father as he calmed down.

you finish taking out the baby’s feet and hands from his clothes while your husband lightly dips his hand from the vaseline container to get a small amount of the product. without satoru telling you anything, you softly raise both of your son’s thick little legs together, exposing his bottom to the father.

just when he was about to insert the thermometer, seishiro's cries once again resonate throughout the room, expression twisted in what looks like agony as he babbles and tries squirming his legs held up by his mother.

your husband effectively halts his own movements, hesitation visible in his eyes as his shaky hand continues hovering in front of your baby’s naked buttocks.

"you won't hurt him, 'toru. it's okay." your calm voice makes its way to him and he sees you gazing at him with eyes teeming with reassurance.

he takes a deep breath.

the sooner i get this done the faster my dumpling can feel better.

after that 4:00 a.m. what-to-do crisis, shoko sent both you and your husband a list on what to do and what not to do with your sick baby. one of the things on top was to give seishiro an acetaminophen to lower his temperature and pedialyte to avoid dehydration which—despite the abundance of all sorts of pain reliever medicine in your home—you do not have.

so at the crack of dawn in the middle of a snowy winter, your husband ran to the nearest pharmacy wearing his evergreen silk velvet pajamas and his 70,400 yen cream-colored gucci off the grid sandals to get probably everything the pharmacist recommended (judging by his baggage when he came back panting before dropping everything in bed) from medications to cooling patches to suppositories.

the doctor also said to bathe seishiro in lukewarm water and change him into lighter clothes (which you did, dressing him up in a short-sleeved romper) with a reminder to not bundle him up in blankets (you mentally note to give the doctor a generous gift when you see her), as well as to monitor his temperature regularly (which your husband did like a maniac, unbuttoning his son’s crotch every 30 minutes and sticking the thermometer to his backside to the point that you had to reprimand him).

you and satoru never left him alone, nor could you both manage to even be at least one meter away from him. right after his morning bath and giving him his fluids, you lulled seishiro back to sleep right in the middle of you and your husband as you watched him the whole time, monitoring the slumbering baby for any signs of discomfort.

when his lunch time came, the generally big-eater seishiro refused to drink your boobie milk nor the baby formula when he was so eager to suck in the morning (satoru was very jealous). shoko said it was normal for him to lose appetite and not force him to eat but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

“baby?” you hear your husband’s wary tone call you out from the living room while you’re chopping some carrots. you turn to your back and try your best to peek on the kitchen’s cased opening to get a look at your husband crouching down in front of seishiro lying on the couch. “what is it, ‘toru?”

his voice was still cautious when he responded, “i think our dumpling’s getting sick again?”

you dropped the knife, rushing to satoru’s side before crouching down as you touch your baby’s forehead. he wasn’t as warm as he was roughly eight hours ago although there’s some clear snot dripping down his nose. he’s looking at the both of you with cerulean eyes full of contempt, as if he absolutely hates his parents for taking him outside yesterday and putting him in his current misery.

"why does our son look like that?" the man on your left asks, slowly raising his hands to get the 5-month-old's mucus with his fingers and wiping them on your apron (you don't notice). seishiro glares at him even more upon seeing what his father did.

you answer his query with another question, "you think he hates us?" you too then lifted your hand before straightening your index and folding the other four. at this, your baby’s frown instantly smoothened, transforming into his usual smiling face as he raised his small appendaged and held the finger in his still-warm fist.

your husband hummed. “i don’t think so,” he tried copying what you just did, but seishiro just looked at his father with disdain and tightened his hold on your finger. satoru pouted and dejectedly muttered, “probably just his dada.”

you lovingly caress the man’s back in comfort before sighing and wiping another blob of mucus dripping from your baby’s nose. “i think he has a cold now,” you sigh as you continue, nuzzling your face into your husband’s neck and whispering, “i don’t know what to do anymore. i’m getting so worried about him…”

your baby seemed to have heard and understood your words, judging by his tiny little hand gripping your index with a little more force and a whimper falling out of his lips. his teary eyes became focused on his mother as the corners of his mouth turned down and his eyebrow furrowed. he also started babbling aggressively.

satoru rests his chin above your head, wrapping his right arm around your form before moving his hand up and down your torso. "i'll call shoko again, baby. it doesn't seem bad this time."

"thank you, 'toru. i'm going back to the kitchen." you give him a peck on his cheek before raising yourself a little and bending over your baby who still refuses to let your finger go. "mama's going to cook, okay? dada will take care of seishi."

over your son's nine day of sickness, you and your husband acted like freaks continually obsessing over your baby. you were two nervous first-time parents riddled with anxiety, fearing for the countless possible outcomes of his sickness, especially the worst of them all—death.

you remember clearly how terrified you were on the first day, when seishiro's fever was 38.8°C and he was hot and fussy and obviously in pain. you were so, so scared. you were sure your husband was too.

seishiro was back on his bassinet located at the side of your bed, asleep after all the ruckus that occurred at the break of dawn. your husband was sitting on the edge of the bed, intently observing him; his six eyes pushing themselves over the limit as he traced every surface of his dumpling's face and body for any unusual signs.

you on the other hand was inside the crib, lying on your side with your upper arm flat on the mattress, head resting on your upper arm. your left hand was softly caressing the boy's smooth warm face, hoping it would keep him calm until his usual wake up time. you wanted to hug him so badly, to let your little child sleep comfortably and safely on your chest, to hold him safe and sound until you were sure he was fine (you were doing your best to restrain yourself as it might be dangerous for babies to not sleep on their back).

your little seishiro was so, so precious. you’d give your life for his safety.

“babyy, go back here and rest. we have a long day later," you hear your husband whisper as he patted the mattress, before he sat up and walked over to your side to plant a kiss on your forehead. he continued hovering over the crib, large hand caressing your face just like what you were doing to your son.

you relax in his touch, eyes closing as you enjoy his loving touch, "i'm fine, 'toru. you sleep. i'll watch our baby."

satoru sighs, bending over the cot to lift you up bridal style. "no can do, my lovely wife. just leave our baby to me! i promise i'll wake you up if something's wrong."

when your husband laid you down on the bed, you gripped his pajamas and voiced out what you had been feeling since you touched seishiro two hours ago.

"i'm scared, satoru." your voice was merely a whisper, you wouldn't be surprised if your husband didn't hear it.

but of course he did. he always does. whether you shout, talk, whisper, or say nothing at all, satoru will always work his eardrums over the edge listening to everything you had to say.

he pulled you closer to his muscular chest and rested his chin on the top of your head, hands running back and forth to your spine comfortingly. "i know, baby. i know."

hot tears started to uncontrollably stream down your cheeks, instantly drenching your husband's 200,200 yen olivia von halle pajama shirt as you securely wrapped your arms around his waist. “i am so, so scared.”

and now, after countless sleepless nights combined with your son’s wailing and trash bags full of used wet wipes, your baby is back on the balcony basking in the warmth and sunlight the early morning offers.

his father stabilizes him as he tries sitting on the man’s lap, flailing his hands excitedly and looking up at satoru with wide expectant eyes when he succeeds (though your husband still has both of his hands at the boy’s back as a support). the older man gasps. “you can sit now, huh? last week you were just trying to roll. you’re growing up fast, aren’t you? hm? who do you take after? is it dada? or is it mama?”

seishiro babbles in response and satoru nods repeatedly as if in agreement. “that’s right, dumpling. you take after dada, don’t you?”

the glass window opens, and your form holding a tray full of food and baby formula comes into view. “don’t twist his words, ‘toru. our son said he takes after his mama,” you placed the wood onto the table and sat at your husband’s side, lifting the baby off his father’s lap and cradling him into your chest, “isn’t that right, hmm, baby?”

your son’s face contorted for a moment, taking his momentum to adorably sneeze before babbling excitedly at his mother.

you and your husband froze, heads turning to stare at each other as you both rack your brains.

“we really shouldn’t have taken him outside.”

ps. idk what happened but i was actually planning for this to be fluffy 😭😭 it kinda got all sentimental

thank you so much for reading!! 😚 interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <33

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