#My dad used to sing me to sleep... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kedsandtubesocks · 23 days ago

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Sunday Sunlight

michael “robby” robinavitch x f!reader

summary: a glimpse into a slow cozy day with you and your growing little family

word count: 1.8k

content warnings/tags: 18+ only, girl dad!Robby, toddler fic, mentions of unspecified age gap, reader is pregnant, cozy & sweet fluff, husband!Robby & married goodness, introspective moments (thoughts of self doubt and internal struggle), parenting themes, jealous Robby with a splash of protective tenderness, soft domesticity vibes, light baseball discussion

a/n: my first ever fic for the Pitt & I’m so grateful getting to write it for the A Doctor A Day Writing Challenge [ #5 “tell me the truth, am I losing you for good?” + black] thank you so much @letsgobarbs @clubsoft & @ananonymousaffair for hosting this! And a sweet extra thanks to @jolapeno for cheering me on & giving me the push to post this

Robby didn’t believe his days could ever look like this. Soft warm spring light fills a cozy living room. The faint sounds of the Pirates game is on the tv -

And his daughter happily takes his full focus.

Her toys litter the carpet with no regard for any foot traffic and frankly, Robby doesn’t care that much either.

Your little girl is happily engrossed with the toddler hospital checkup playset Abbot got her this year for her birthday. She’s been obsessed with it, barely knows what she’s doing, but Robby can’t tear his eyes away from her.

Especially now as she readily tries to fix her Winnie the Pooh bear lying ready for examination on the pull out countertop.

Her face scrunched up in deep concentration looks exactly like yours as her chubby little hands clumsily put on the stethoscope.

“What’s your diagnosis, doc?” Robby asks her while he slowly sits up to move closer to her.

“Sick.” She quips simply, and his lips twitch amused.

“Did you check his heart? Make sure he’s okay.” He gently touches the center of the stuffed bear’s chest. Immediately his daughter, instead of using the stethoscope, leans down to press her ear against his chest.

Robby can’t help it, he laughs.

“Good, that’s a good start.” He reassures her.

Gently, he moves the colorful child sized stethoscope to sit on her properly. She eagerly roams the diaphragm all around the fuzzy bear’s tummy, diligently searching for something with it.

“Try to find the heartbeat.” He tells her patiently.

Robby then makes the familiar heart beat thump himself with a hum. Her eyes bloom surprised, becoming little bright stars.

She’s so smart, so damn quick. Immediately her sharp gaze flickers up, realizing it’s him making the noise and not the bear.

“Papa!” She cries indignant.

“Not me, mister bear.” Robby innocently replies, tapping the poor plushie patient.

So stubborn, a trait she definitely inherited only from you and not an ounce from him, his daughter shoves the poor bear away and stomps towards Robby where he sits on the edge of the couch, opposite to where you sleep.

Seven months pregnant again and peacefully napping, lightly snoring even though you swear you don’t, you’re the picture of ease and steal Robby’s heart all over again.

When his little girl eagerly arrives at his side, Robby reminds her to stay quiet to make sure you get to rest.

Bubbling with curious eagerness, his daughter nods then presses her tiny hands against his face, checking for a fever the same way he does when she’s sick.

Robby feels as if his heart just might melt from his ribs.

It seems like only yesterday she was keeping you and him awake at all hours of the night as a newborn, so tiny in his arms as Robby went through singing two lullabies to get her to sleep. Now his baby is readily growing as her own little person, bright and curious.

“Check my heart.” He says with a watery grin while she tries listening to his chest.

Then, as if remembering something, she perks up and scurries back to the playset. His eyes perk up seeing her grab an otoscope and hurry back to him.

A burst of pride swells in his chest.

“Papa, say ah!” Gathering a composed sternness, he holds back a laugh while his daughter uses the toy otoscope, used to examine the ears, to check his throat.

But listening to his little girl, he does as told and she peeks inside examining him with the toy.

Then she makes a face, scrunched up and confused.

“What?” He questions curious now.

As caring and sweet as his daughter is, Robby knows exactly how mischievous she’s becoming. The smirk and tiny giggle she gives, he knows she’s up to something.

“What d’ya find, doctor?” He asks her again. She pays her father no mind and grabs a pack of play bandaids from the kit.

Wearing the most amused smirk she hurries back to him, the colorful stereoscope bouncing against her neck. Determined and with a firm step, his daughter arrives before him.

Patiently she then places one of the bandages on his lips. Her diagnosis? For him to stay silent.

“All done!” She announces bright, giggling proud, like she’s made the most hilarious inside joke.

Robby’s lips fight hard against a grin and the bandaid. He moves to take it off when his daughter spots him.

“Nah uh, papa! Rest.” She says with a firm head nod, he blinks stunned at her.

“Bossy… definitely your kid.” Your warm sleepy voice emerges. Gently you sit up from your nap, shoving away the small blanket.

You look so fucking god in his old black penguins hockey t-shirt, especially with your belly growing more and more. Slowly sitting up, you reach for him. Like you’re the extension of him, effortless and without any question, Robby gently draws you towards his side letting you now rest your head against his thigh.

“Mama!” Your daughter cries happy and loud, sliding towards you on the couch.

“I help papa!” She declares.

“Good job, sprout. You’re the doctor of the family now.” You playfully poke her nose.

She giggles triumphant. Robby then watches his little girl throw her small body over your tummy, hugging you and the baby as much as she can.

“Sissy, I help.” She’s been eagerly announcing everything to her little sister once she learned the baby could hear everything.

You finally glance up at Robby grinning at him. Noticing the bandaid on his lips, you gently peel it away before your daughter notices.

“Yeah you do, baby. You’re already such a good big sister wanting to take care of everyone.” You gently tell her through a yawn.

Robby wonders if this moment could shatter at any moment, like it’s too pure and good for him, too precious to believe it’s his.

But when your hand moves to rub his arm, your touch grounds him.

His eldest daughter suddenly squeaks happily, and you snicker. The baby must have kicked.

“Your baby sister is playing kickball in my tummy. Gonna give us a check up now too?” You offer, sitting up more. You now lean against Robby’s shoulder, and he happily welcomes your warmth.

Your daughter now babbles scurrying to the playset and grabs a random wooden spatula that somehow managed to sneak into her toy collection.

Deeming that important to her care, your little girl scurries back and presses her face against his black shirt.

“Sissy, no kick mama.” She orders.

You burst out laughing, and Robby covers his with a quick cough.

“I think she’s got the making of a good physician already,” you tell him.

“Her bedside manner could use some work.” Robby snorts, and you snicker.

Top of the 5th inning and Pirates are still tied zero to zero against the Astros. His daughter now yanks the playset closer to the couch allowing Robby to examine more of the tools.

He’s always been impressed by this thing. It’s rather accurate, makes him appreciate whoever made it.

“They even got the right buttons on the EKG machine, it’s pretty crazy.” He says messing with the toy set.

“I don’t know what kind of kid would want to be playing with this and not legos or barbie dream house or something else.” He lets the comment slide out a bit low.

Robby’s already torn when he thinks of his little girl’s future - if she’ll end up wanting to practice medicine or not. If that colorful stethoscope she wears will one day match his, black and professional.

A quiet sigh escapes you letting your hand rub his back now.

“She plays with both… plus I think she likes knowing she gets to pretend to be a grown up and help people like you.”

He lets your words sit gently and decides not to keep digging into this tangled topic.

“I still can’t believe there’s even multiple syringe and scissor options.” He chuckles, changing the subject.

“Might as well have included some clamps and blood bags.” Robby adds and then picks up one of the toys.

It takes him a moment to realize he's been rambling out loud mindless thoughts about this damn toy set for the game to be in a new inning now.

You’ve gone quiet now, and his eyes flicker down to you leaning against his chest.

“Alright,” he begins with a sigh.

“Tell me the truth… am I losing you for good?” He means it half jokingly.

Robby still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you, his absolutely gorgeous sweetheart. He’s holding his breath still, waiting any minute for you to wake up and realize you got stuck married to an old man like him.

Hell, just last week Robby had to calm himself down when the cashier had no fucking shame flirting with you, even as you wear Robby’s ring on your finger and have his second baby growing in your belly.

It’s almost as if a part of him is waiting to fully lose you, let you slip away from his fingers.

Your hand curls against his face now, rubbing against his bearded jaw as you draw him closer.

You place the softest kiss on his lips.

“Not at all,” you tell him gently. “If anything you hook me in more and more, Robinavitch. You’re stuck with me.”

A warmth collides in his chest like an unleashed sea.

Robby smirks, humming content as he places a kiss against your head.

“Love ya, kid.” He warmly tells you, sliding his arm around you.

And he does.

He adores you so damn much, didn’t think it was possible to love you any more but you love to prove him wrong.

His eldest daughter, now bored with the doctor's playset equipment, currently sits on the carpet floor fiddling with a colorful whale toy.

The pirates, now up to bat, suddenly hit a home run. Even through the tv, the ball is sent flying with a solid whack.

Robby cheers appreciatively, and your daughter immediately perks up eagerly scrambling to him with excited eyes as she bounces holding onto his arm.

“Papa, good?” She asks, picking up the excitement from the game.

“Yes baby girl, very good.” He grins.

“See,” you pat his leg affectionately, “No need to worry about her.”

“You’re gonna play baseball for the Pirates right, sprout?” You ask your daughter.

“Yup!” She says bright, probably not even realizing what she’s agreeing to as her focus stays on the TV.

That makes him laugh.

He’s never felt older and younger all at once, like a multitude of lifetimes has collided into him a beautiful cosmos shining bright.

All his girls together right before him, and he’s never felt luckier.

Robby wants to carve out this moment forever, letting it crystallize around him and soak in this warmth. One he wants to embrace and never let go.

#thanks again to you wonderful pals hosting this & to anyone who reads this!!!#I need to give this man a bunch of babies I’m so sorry #adad2025 #ADOCTORADAY #michael robinavitch x reader #robby robinavitch x reader #michael robinavich x reader #dr robby x reader #dr robby x you #the pitt x reader #x reader #dr robby please call me back

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marvelstan0905 · 1 year ago

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"She's so tiny!"

Kenji Sato X Wife!Reader [afab] (short oneshot)

DadAU!

TW: newborn/fluff/Emi referneces/new dad au/cheesy dad moments

This is really just came to my head. It's kinda short. I'm sorry! 😙

Here she was Kenji's little baby. An actual human this time. The baby was beautiful. The apple in Kenji's eyes. She was perfect, his little Emiko. His thoughts drifted off to Emi, his first baby. He wonders what she'd do when she saw an a human baby or if she'd grown alot since the last he'd seen her.

As he stood by the balcony of his home admiring his newborn as he held the sleeping infant. Kenji couldn't help but reflect the long journey he's had. No doubt it was unique and crazy but here he was. A father once again. This time around more permanent but Emi would always be in his heart. Kenji glanced at his sleeping wife as he walked back into the house. God, he was so grateful to her. She brought him, his greatest blessing and his greatest gift. His tiny, Emiko.

"You know..I didn't think I'd be able to handle you. I thought that human babies would be alot harder than kaiju babies. "Kenji murmured as he spoke to his little princess. His pure copy. Those mauve, blue eyes. Those dark raven locks and a nose just like his. His little twin. "Looking at you now..after 9 long months..I think I worried too much. You're such a sweetheart and you're so perfect and tiny. I promise-no, I ultra promise I'll be strong enough for you"

The baby cooed as she woke up. A cute little yawn escaped Emiko's lips as she fidgets in her swaddle.

"Good evening, princess Emiko. Ready to eat, tiny girl? I wonder if you'll like fish" Kenji joked before pecking his child's face and walking into the kitchen. Kenji placed a breastmilk filled bottle into the microwave and waited for it to cool after taking it out. Kenji took the time to gently remove the swaddle from his daughter chasing her to do the cutest little stretch "Adorable" Kenji whispered whiles gently tickling his daughter's tummy.

"You know..Emi used to vomit if I did that. She puked all the time" Kenji chuckled to himself and his little daughter as fond memories of Emi clustered through his mind. "I wish you could meet her"

The baby cooed and since she was a calm and sweet baby, she didn't fuss too much as Kenji swiftly changed her diaper whiles singing softly. "B-I-N-G-O..B-I-N-G-O..and Bingo was his name-o"

Kenji grabbed the bottle and checked the temperature before he started feeding his daughter whispering sweet promises.

"I promise that you'll never go near a boy or girl romantically when I'm around"

"I promise I'll never ever neglect you and I'll take excellent care of you and mom"

"I promise I'll be the best dad and I'll teach you all the baseball skills so you'll be better than me"

"I promise to love you forever and ever"

#kenji sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato #ultraman 2024 #emi ultraman #ultraman rising #ultraman #fanfic #Spotify #scenarios #SoundCloud

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rafedarling · 3 months ago

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𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: atter giving birth to lola, you begin feeling insecure about your stretch marks and body changes. you start locking the bathroom door and avoiding intimacy. drew doesn’t notice at first but when he does, his reaction is far from what you feared.

warning(s): english is not my native language. postpartum body image insecurities, mentions of stretch marks, soft emotional comfort, lots of gentle love, drew being the sweetest partner ever.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @issabellec7 @alexxavicry @rafestoothbrush @moonlightluna23

It started small.

The click of the bathroom door locking behind you.

The oversized shirt you insisted on keeping on even when it was just the two of you.

The dimmed lights before bed, even on warmer nights when the baby monitor glowed softly by the nightstand.

Drew didn’t notice it at first.

There was Lola to take care of, Rustyn to chase after, bottles to warm, lullabies to sing. The nights blurred into days and back again, and amidst the warm chaos of new life, your quiet hesitations faded into the background.

Until they didn’t.

It was the fourth evening in a row where he reached for the bathroom door to tell you dinner was ready only to hear the soft click of the lock before his hand touched the knob.

He didn’t say anything at the time. Just paused, hand hovering, and slowly stepped away.

But he noticed.

He noticed the way you kept the towel wrapped tightly around your body until you were safely tucked into pajamas.

He noticed you flinch slightly when his fingers grazed your waist without warning.

And he especially noticed the way you avoided his eyes when he asked if everything was okay.

That night, after both kids were finally down and the house fell into a rare silence, you crawled into bed beside him, quiet, tucked in a soft cotton tee, your back turned to him the way it had been more nights than not.

Drew slid closer anyway.

Wordlessly, he wrapped one arm around your waist, his nose tucking into the space where your shoulder met your neck, the tip of it brushing the baby hairs near your ear.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured.

You hummed, eyes focused on the shadows dancing across the ceiling.

“Just tired.”

He didn’t press. Just held you tighter.

But then,soft, slow, and safe he asked,

“Is it because of me?”

You blinked.

“Because I noticed…”

He added gently, his thumb brushing over the hem of your shirt.

“You’ve been locking the door. Not letting me see you.”

You swallowed.

For a moment, you thought of deflecting again. Maybe even blaming hormones, or sleep, or some other distant excuse that didn’t carry the weight in your chest.

But Drew’s voice was so quiet.

So careful.

And his arms around you didn’t budge. They only held you steadier.

You turned your face slightly toward him, just enough for your voice to find its way back.

“It’s not because of you.”

He kissed the back of your head once, then rested his forehead there.

“Then talk to me, baby.”

You exhaled shakily.

“After I gave birth to Lola, my belly never went back. The stretch marks… they’re everywhere. They’re deep. And red. And I know they’ll fade, but Drew, I don’t look the same. I don’t feel the same.”

He said nothing, but his hand shifted, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, palm flat against your soft tummy.

You tensed.

“I used to be confident,” you added, your voice cracking.

“I used to love when you looked at me. Now I just… I can’t stand the idea of you seeing me like this. Of seeing what’s left.”

The silence was heavy but not cold.

He was thinking.

You were about to speak again maybe take it back and when his hand gently turned you over to face him.

Drew’s eyes met yours, soft and sea-glass blue even in the dark.

“You think I’d stop wanting you because your body did something incredible?”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going, his words steady, raw, and real.

“Do you know how many nights I stayed up just watching you sleep with one hand on your belly, feeling her kick? Do you know how much I loved your body then? How I love it now?”

His hand rested over your ribs.

“You made our baby. You made two of them. Your body changed because it had to because it grew love inside of it.”

You looked away, embarrassed by the tears slipping down your cheeks.

But Drew gently brought your face back to him, kissing your temple.

“I miss seeing you,” he whispered.

“Not because you look different but because I want you to know that nothing’s changed for me. Not one damn thing.”

You closed your eyes, letting the truth in.

He continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I married you knowing every version of you will evolve. That’s the promise, right? I don’t just love the you from our wedding, or the you carrying Lola. I love the woman you are now, a strong, tired, stretched thin but still here, still beautiful, still mine.”

Your lips trembled.

“You think I see stretch marks?” he asked.

“No. They’re like… superhero battle scars. You literally built humans, babe.”

You let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in his chest.

“That was so corny.”

“It was true, though,” he teased, smiling softly against your hair.

You stayed like that for a long time, breathing him in, letting his warmth push out every last lingering shadow.

Eventually, your hand found his.

You pulled it under your shirt again, guiding it to your belly.

“They’re really red right now.”

“I know,” he murmured.

“And I still think you’re the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You snorted. “You’re impossible.”

He tilted your chin to kiss you slow.

“Nope. I just madly in love with my wife. Even the parts she’s still learning to love herself.”

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fanfic #dad!drew starkey x mom!you #dad!drew starkey x mom!reader #dad!drew starkey x reader #dad!drew starkey #dad!drew starkey x fem!reader #drew starkey x fem!reader #drew starkey x f!reader

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lazysoulwriter · 2 months ago

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you're safe here. - lando norris.

requested! hope you like it, like i did! - requested are open.

--- It starts with something small.

You’re curled up on Lando’s couch, one leg draped over his lap, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. A movie plays in the background—something warm, nostalgic, easy to follow. You’re not really paying attention, not when his thumb keeps drawing lazy circles into the back of your hand, not when his other arm is holding you like you’re made of something worth protecting.

On screen, a kid walks into a room full of balloons and hugs, a surprise birthday party waiting just for them. Their mom’s crying, the dad is beaming, and the whole thing is so full of love it makes your chest ache a little.

You laugh—soft, but not because it’s funny. More like a reflex.

“Surprise parties are weird,” you say, casual. “My mom used to forget my birthday half the time. One year she just said, ‘You’re getting older, you don’t need a cake.’”

You don’t even realize what you said until you feel Lando freeze beneath you.

It’s so subtle, anyone else would’ve missed it. But not you. You’re always scanning for shifts, changes in energy, things going suddenly cold.

“Wait—what?” he says after a beat, voice soft. Not judging. Just confused. Just Lando.

You shrug like it’s nothing. Because to you, it is.

“It’s fine. Just how it was.”

But he’s still looking at you, eyes soft and stunned. Like it’s physically painful for him to imagine someone not being celebrated, especially someone he loves.

You can feel it—his confusion, the way he’s trying to wrap his brain around the idea that someone could grow up like that. With birthdays forgotten and hugs withheld and love handed out like a transaction.

And you? You’ve already built the walls. You’ve spent years pretending it doesn’t matter. You learned to light your own candles. You learned not to expect softness from anyone.

But Lando—he doesn’t let it slide. Not in the heavy, dramatic way. Just the opposite.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. Not rushed. Not fleeting. Like he wants you to remember the exact pressure of it. Like he’s saying I’m sorry, I’m here, I’ve got you—all without needing words.

“That’s not fine,” he murmurs against your skin. “You deserved a cake. You deserved the whole party.”

You laugh again, watery this time. “You gonna throw me one now?”

“Absolutely,” he says without missing a beat. “With balloons. And a stupid hat. And everyone has to sing.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart pulls in your chest in a way that’s unfamiliar. Soft. Unsafe. Safe.

Because here’s the thing: you’re used to doing everything on your own. You don’t like asking for help. You don’t like feeling like a burden. You were taught, early and often, that vulnerability is a luxury, not a right.

But Lando—he never makes you feel small for it. He doesn’t try to fix you, just... holds space. Gentle. Steady. Patient.

Sometimes you’ll drop a story without thinking—something offhanded about your childhood, a little crack in your armor—and his reaction is always the same. Not pity. Just quiet disbelief, followed by twice as much love.

And the more time you spend with him, the more you start to believe maybe you don’t have to carry it all alone.

Some nights, when the world feels heavy, you’ll wake up to find him already watching you. He’ll rub your back until the tightness in your chest loosens. He’ll hold you like he’s grounding you to the earth. He won’t ask questions you don’t want to answer.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know,” he tells you one night, voice thick with sleep.

You want to believe him. You’re starting to.

Because with him, you’re not just surviving anymore. You’re living. You’re learning how to be—messy, stubborn, independent, complicated—you. And he doesn’t flinch. He just loves you harder.

And one day, when he walks into your apartment holding a stupid balloon and a single slice of cake—just because—it kind of breaks you.

“You said you never got one,” he says with a soft smile. “So... here.”

You kiss him like he’s air. Like he’s the first good thing to ever happen to you.

And maybe he is.

---

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagines #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fanfics #lando norris fics #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #lando norris angst #angst #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #ln

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shortnspidey · 2 months ago

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THE VOID

Bucky Barnes X Fem!Stark!reader || WC: 5.4K

SUMMARY: What was supposed to be a quiet family weekend getaway at the Stark cabin is quickly interrupted by New York City being terrorized once more!

WARNINGS: Thunderbolts* spoilers! Angst, slight fluff, hurt-comfort, non-sexual nudity, talks of past trauma & HYDRA PTSD

A/N: Based on my Collateral Hearts series but can be read as a standalone! This was meant to be a short drabble but I couldn't help myself! It's safe to say Thunderbolts* is my new Marvel comfort movie! I hope I did this one-shot justice since we didn't get to see much of Bucky during the movie! 🫶🏻

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

➩ bucky barnes masterlist

As the soft glow of morning sunlight filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting warm streaks across the hardwood floor. Your eyelids fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the familiar surroundings, the soft lavender hue of the walls, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air, and the peaceful silence broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird outside.

A small sleepy smile tugged at your lips as your gaze settled on the delightful chaos around you, a mountain of stuffed animals piled high near the window, polaroid pictures taped to the dresser mirror, each one a tiny fragment of a life well-lived and well-loved. Shifting to your side with a sleepy sigh, you expected to find the comforting bulk of your super-soldier fiancé beside you. His warmth, his steady breathing, maybe even the soft snore he always denied having.

But instead, a mop of tousled brown hair and a small frame tucked under a fortress of blankets greeted you. Morgan. Your not-so-little sister, who had clearly claimed the entire bed as her own sometime during the night. You let out a quiet chuckle, realizing you were perched on the very edge of the mattress, less than an inch from tumbling onto the floor. The covers had all migrated to her side, cocooned around her. She was somehow an even worse bed hog than Bucky, and that was saying something.

Even Alpine, with all her feline entitlement, hadn't managed to steal this much space. Your thoughts were interrupted as Morgan stirred, her little nose wrinkling adorably in protest against the invading daylight. She nestled even closer into your side, seeking warmth and refuge. "Morning, sunshine!" You chirped with faux cheeriness, knowing exactly what kind of reaction you'd get. Predictably, the nine-year-old groaned, burying her face deeper into your ribs with a dramatic sigh that made you smile even wider.

Definitely not a morning person, another undeniable Stark trait. "Morgan," You sing-songed, dragging her name out teasingly. “Time to wake up!” She grumbled in protest, clearly trying to lull herself back to sleep or at least tune you out. A soft giggle escaped you as you gently poked her side. “The only way I’m waking up is if you make me breakfast.” Morgan grumbled, her voice muffled against your side. You gave a mock gasp, clutching your chest dramatically.

“Demanding.” You teased, though your tone was soft as you reached out, brushing a few strands of her tangled hair away from her face. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary. Her skin was still warm from sleep, and for a moment, you just took in how small she still was, despite her growing stubborn streak and increasingly bold opinions. “How about I make you breakfast,” You offered, lifting your brows with a knowing smile, “and I’ll even let you sneak a juice pop before Mom makes us lunch?”

Her face twitched, trying to stay serious, trying not to give in to your irresistible offer, but you saw the small smile forming at the corner of her lips. “Promise?” She asked, lifting her head slightly and giving you those big, brown, soul-piercing eyes that always reminded you a little too much of your dad. You nodded, solemnly holding out your pinky. “Pinky promise,” You declared, your voice dropping to a whisper like it was sacred and in a way, it was.

Morgan didn’t hand out trust easily, but a pinky promise? That was ironclad. She hooked her little finger around yours, her smile breaking fully now. “Deal!” You grinned and pressed another kiss to her forehead, this one quick and full of affection, before leaning over to grab your phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up with a flurry of notifications, texts, emails, a missed call from Harley, but your thumb moved instinctively to the one name that always made your chest tighten in the best way. The most recent message read:

Bucky 🖤: Made it to the Capitol in one piece. Miss you already, doll. Tell Morgan I’m bringing her that thing we talked about.

You smiled at the screen, thumbs flying across the keyboard as you typed back a quick “I love you, stay safe.” Before you could even lock your phone, Morgan was peering over your shoulder. “Why couldn’t Bucky come?” She asked, her voice softer now, her fingers still tangled in the edge of your sleep shirt. You arched a brow, turning to face her with a mock pout. “Am I not enough for you anymore?” Morgan rolled her eyes with a giggle, but her cheeks flushed pink.

“You know what I mean.” She grinned. It always amazed you how quickly Bucky had wormed his way into her heart, how naturally he’d settled into the role of her protector, bedtime storyteller, and co-conspirator in every bit mischief she could dream up. And truthfully, you loved watching the two of them together, even when you pretended to be jealous. “Believe me, sweetheart, he wanted to,” You reassured brushing her hair back again as she snuggled close once more. “But he’s just a little busy now that he has Congressman duties.” Morgan huffed.

“You should’ve brought Alpine at least.” You laughed, ruffling her hair. “If we let that spoiled cat in this bed, there wouldn’t be room for either of us. Plus, she’d steal your juice pop.” That earned a giggle from her. “C’mon,” You coaxed, stretching your arms and sitting up fully. “Let’s go make some waffles. With chocolate chips. Maybe even whipped cream, if you swear not to tell Mom.” She perked up instantly, eyes gleaming. “You got yourself a deal!” This kid was definitely going to be the death of you.

After scarfing down at least a dozen waffles between you and Morgan, each one stacked precariously with whipped cream, chocolate chips, and just a hint of syrup for good measure you both made sure to clean the flour battlefield you’d left behind. The kitchen still smelled like vanilla and melted chocolate, but the counters were wiped, dishes stacked, and evidence buried, for the most part. Just in time too, as Pepper raised an eyebrow when she entered but said nothing.

Only offering a suspicious glance toward the empty whipped cream can in the trash. With the scent of breakfast still clinging to your pajamas and Morgan cradling a warm cup of cocoa, the three of you curled up on the couch for your weekend ritual. Blankets, mismatched socks, and the faint crackle of old movie magic filled the living room. The familiar sounds of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone played in the background, Morgan mouthing lines under her breath, completely absorbed in the scene.

And then, it happened.

The screen glitched, colors flickering unnaturally before the film feed abruptly cut to a flashing Breaking News banner. Static crackled. Then came the footage. A live aerial shot of Manhattan, swallowed by what looked like a creeping black fog, only it wasn’t fog. It slithered like it was alive, climbing buildings, flooding streets, consuming everything in its path. Helicopters struggled to keep up with the growing shadow that rolled through downtown like a tidal wave of nightmares.

Your blood ran cold. A surge of déjà vu punched through your gut, memories of Thanos, of the Snap, of losing everything for a single moment in time. But this wasn’t dust. This was something else, something darker. Morgan leaned forward, her cocoa forgotten, and even Pepper tensed, lips pressed into a thin, worried line. The footage zoomed in closer. Through the billowing obsidian mass, faint shapes flickered, terrified civilians, abandoned cars and buildings.

The once-iconic Avengers Tower, half-swallowed and collapsing in on itself, like some monument to forgotten glory. And at the center of it, looming like a shadow torn from nightmares, stood a shadowy figure. He wasn’t entirely solid, more like a dark silhouette. With every movement, people vanished. Your hand trembled as you reached for your phone, a cold sweat already forming at the back of your neck. You didn’t even remember dialing, your thumb working on autopilot.

“Pick up. Pick up.” You whispered, heart hammering against your ribs, anxiety rising like bile. One ring. Two. Three, then static. Faint, fragmented screams filtered through. Car alarms. Crumbling stone. You heard staggering breath, sharp and uneven. “Bucky? Are you there?” You asked, voice cracking, eyes fixed on the chaos on the screen. A ragged exhale echoed on the line. Then voices, quick, panicked. Civilians? You couldn’t tell. “Bucky, please tell me you’re not in that mess.” You begged, voice fraying at the edges.

You weren’t even sure if he could hear you. A pause. Then finally, his voice, raw and distant. “I wish I could, doll.” Your breath hitched. “I’m sorry.” He added. Those two words carried more weight than you could bear. Every instinct in you screamed to fight, to argue, but your voice didn’t come. Not even a whisper. “Doll, I—” And then, the call dropped. Your phone slid from your hand and landed on the couch cushion beside you with a thud. Your chest was tight, lungs refusing to work properly. Noticing the shift in your demeanor, Morgan instantly wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Is Bucky okay?” She whispered, burying her face into your side. You pulled her close, holding her like she was the only anchor in the storm. “I’m sure he is, sweetheart,” You reassured softly, kissing the top of her head. “He’s strong and brave.” But even you couldn’t tell if you were trying to reassure her or convince yourself. You looked up. Pepper had already stood, face pale but composed. She met your eyes, her strength unwavering even now. “Mom—”

“I know,” She mumbled quickly, cutting you off. Her voice was gentle, but there was an iron edge beneath it, a quiet strength born from too many nights spent watching the man she loved walk into war zones with nothing but conviction and an arc reactor. Pepper Potts wasn’t a stranger to sacrifice, and now, neither were you. “Go.” You hesitated, guilt gnawing at your gut. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.” She added, her hand closing tightly around yours.

You nodded, trying to keep your face neutral even as your stomach churned. You turned toward Morgan, who stood silently by the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest like it was a lifeline. “Morgie,” You called softly, crouching down to her level as her tear-filled eyes locked on yours. “He’ll be okay. We both will. Stay here with Mom, alright? I’ll call you as soon as I find Bucky. I promise.” You extended your pinky once more. This promise felt heavier than all the others.

“Okay.” She whispered, her voice cracking as she surrendered to your embrace, small arms wrapping tightly around your neck. You held her close, kissed her temple, then leaned into her ear. “I love you, kiddo.” You breathed, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat. You felt her nod against your shoulder, and it shattered something inside you. With that, you quickly got dressed, grabbed your car keys and drove as fast as the speed limit allowed you into the void that was now New York City.

As you made your way into the city, weaving recklessly through the traffic, your hands clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Horns blared, lights flashed, but none of it registered fully, you were running on instinct and adrenaline. You fumbled for your phone at a red light, trying once again to ping Bucky’s location. Nothing. The screen flashed back the same message, unable to locate device.

You swore under your breath, the sickening realization hitting you like a punch to the gut, his phone must’ve been destroyed during all the chaos. There was no other choice. Without any clue where he might be, you had to go back to the apartment. Your chest ached with the weight of uncertainty, but through it all, a stubborn flicker of belief remained, he’d make it home to you. He had to. The moment your key turned in the lock and the door creaked open, the silence inside greeted you.

You didn’t need to call out to know, he wasn’t there. The emptiness clung to the walls, thick and oppressive, and did absolutely nothing to soothe the storm of fear brewing inside you. You closed the door quietly behind you, letting your forehead rest against it for a beat too long, before turning to scan the room with hopeful eyes. Then, a soft meow echoed from around the corner. “Alpine,” You breathed out, your voice cracking slightly with relief. The snowy white cat padded into view, her tail high as she trotted toward you, clearly happy to see you home.

You knelt down immediately, scooping her into your arms and pressing her warm body close to your chest. She purred against you, a soft, steady vibration that grounded you just enough to keep from unraveling completely. “Hi, sweet girl.” You murmured, your voice gentle as you carried her to the couch. You sank into the cushions, Alpine nestled securely in your lap, and stared out the window at the glowing city beyond. Every instinct in you screamed to go back out there.

To search every alley, every rooftop, every shadow, but instead, you sat still. Holding on to hope like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. After what felt like an eternity of pacing in the kitchen, organizing things that didn’t need organizing, and switching between news broadcasts that offered very little comfort and a phone that refused to light up with his name, you were unraveling thread by thread. Each second stretched, heavy and tense, your breath shallow. And then, you heard it. The familiar jangle of the doorknob.

Your heart skipped a beat, then thundered, and as the door creaked open, you let out a breath that felt like it came from somewhere deep in your soul. Your muscles, locked in anxious tension, began to loosen as you rose quickly from the couch. But the moment you turned the corner and saw him, really saw him all of that fragile relief shattered and the fear came crashing back in. There he was. Dressed in his signature all-black, the fabric of his clothes torn in various places.

Revealing angry red gashes and violet bruises beneath. His broad shoulders were pulled back in a rigid posture. His long hair was disheveled, sticking to his forehead and brushing his jawline, and his face, God, his handsome face was a map of pain. Scratches lined his cheekbones, one temple split and still weeping. His knuckles were bruised, skin split. And still, he didn’t bother to close the door behind him. His cerulean blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a brief moment, time stood still. He closed them slowly, like the sight of you was too much to bear all at once.

Relief, exhaustion, maybe even guilt, it passed across his face like clouds across a stormy sky. “James.” The name left your lips sharp and clipped, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest. There was frustration in your voice, more than that, there was hurt. At the sound of his given name, his eyes opened again, more alert, more present. He knew exactly what it meant when you used it like that. But he also knew this wasn’t about being in trouble. Not really. Cautiously, he took a step forward, hand raised, vibranium fingers trembling just enough to betray the storm inside him.

He reached for your arm, bracing for the rejection he was sure he deserved. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away. When his palm met your sleeve and you stayed rooted to the spot, something in him broke loose. He took another step, his other hand rising to gently uncross your arms, and you let him. You didn’t meet his eyes, not yet, but you didn’t resist his touch either. He pulled your body into his slowly, grounding you with the firm steadiness of both flesh and metal, his touch familiar, grounding. You looked away, jaw tight, holding back tears or words, you weren’t even sure which.

He exhaled slowly, then lifted a hand to your face, calloused fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as he tilted your head up. You didn’t want to look at him because if you did, you’d lose what little composure you had left. Still, you let him tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your temple as he searched your face like it held the only truth left in the world. Your eyes met again, and for a heartbeat, the silence between you was louder than anything either of you could say. Then finally, you broke it, your voice low and rough around the edges.

“You’re still in trouble.” You grumbled, trying for stern but falling short, the corners of your mouth betraying you with the tiniest quiver. “I know, doll,” He murmured, his voice gravelly and soft in that way only reserved for you. “I know.” He rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as it ghosted over your skin. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness yet. He just needed this. You. “Just let me hold you.” He whispered, more of a plea than command.

And without another word, you let him.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, each breath shaky, uneven. His arms were tight around you now, no longer tentative. Flesh and vibranium wrapped fully around your waist, holding on like if he let go, everything would collapse. And maybe it would. You didn’t want to test that theory. He smelled like smoke and the faintest trace of blood, but underneath all that, you still found him. That scent you’d come to associate with home.

“Hey,” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, lips brushing your hair as he spoke. “I’m here. I’m okay.” You pulled back slightly at that, brows furrowing. “You’re not okay, Buck,” you scoffed softly, your hands coming up to cradle his scruffy cheeks. “You’re clearly hurt and you’re bleeding.” You swallowed hard as your thumbs traced the edges of a fresh cut along his jaw. “You scared the hell out of me.” His eyes closed again, jaw clenching as he leaned into your touch. You blinked quickly, fighting the sting in your eyes, but he saw it anyway.

Without hesitation, Bucky leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, this time more firmly, grounding himself in the contact. Then, slowly, deliberately his lips brushed yours. It wasn’t a kiss full of hunger or urgency. It was soft yet purposeful. You melted into it instantly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his hands cupped your jaw, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. His lips trembled against yours, not from fear but from sheer, overwhelming feeling. He kissed you like he’d been afraid he wouldn’t get the chance.

Like this kiss was a thank you, an apology, and a promise all in one. When you finally parted, he lingered, his nose brushing against yours, eyes searching yours with that soft, open ache that always made you want to protect him, even when strongly believed that he was the one built to protect you. You exhaled shakily, resting your hands over his heart. In that moment, no words needed to be shared. You simply pulled him close, this time wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder.

After a beat, your voice now more steadier broke the silence. "I hope you know you owe Morgan a call, she was pretty shaken after what she saw on the news." Bucky let out a long breath, one hand ghosting up your back in an absent, soothing motion. "Hopefully the bear plush I brought all the way back from DC will be enough for her to forgive me." Your brow lifted, eyes narrowing slightly as amusement flickered in your voice. "Seriously, Bucky. Morgan has enough stuffed animals to fill an entire daycare."

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop spoiling her," He offered a small shrug, the corner of his mouth quirking just enough to chase away some of the tension. "We should call." You nodded slowly, lifting your head from his shoulder without pulling away completely, your arms still draped around him in a gentle tether. "We should," You murmured in agreement. Your gaze swept over him, taking in the grime, the torn edges of his clothes, and the blood smeared along his jaw. "Might want to clean yourself up first."

Your fingers reached up, brushing lightly over the blood smeared on his cheekbone. The touch wasn’t firm, just the barest sweep of skin against skin, but it carried so much more than it seemed to. In that single gesture, you offered reassurance, a silent apology for whatever pain he endured, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone. He leaned into the touch with a subtle, almost imperceptible sigh, his eyes fluttering closed for just a beat too long. Like the warmth of your hand was more healing than anything could ever be.

His lashes lifted slowly, gaze locking with yours. The blue of his eyes, normally sharp and vigilant, had softened into something almost vulnerable. “Join me?” Just two words. So simple, but they cracked something open inside you. The sheer vulnerability behind them wrapped in a quiet plea and a need for closeness he rarely voiced ever made your throat tighten. You didn’t trust your voice to hold steady, so you simply nodded, the motion small but immediate.

His expression didn’t shift much, but you saw the way his shoulders eased, just slightly. He leaned in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead. He stayed there for a moment, his lips resting against your skin like he was afraid letting go too soon might shatter whatever peace had settled between you. Then, he stepped back, not far, just enough to reach for your hand. His fingers found yours with an easy familiarity, holding on like you were his lifeline. And without a word, he turned, guiding you slowly toward the bathroom down the hall the space you shared.

As you stepped into the space, a wave of protectiveness surged through you, catching you off guard with its intensity. It was more than just concern, it was an aching need to reassure him, to make it unmistakably clear that he was safe and loved. He stood quietly, as if waiting for something he didn’t quite know how to ask for. Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for the hem of his t-shirt, eyes flicking up to meet his, searching for any flicker of hesitation. The fabric was worn, soft beneath your touch, and you tugged gently, more a question than a motion.

His response was wordless but immediate, lifting his arms and granting you silent permission. You peeled the shirt upward, revealing inch by inch of scarred, bruised skin that made your heart twist. A sharp, quiet gasp escaped your lips as the damage came into view faint scrapes, livid bruises blossoming in purples and yellows, and the ever-present, jarring contrast where metal fused into flesh. You knew the serum would eventually do its work, knitting tissue and dulling pain, but logic didn’t stop the worry that clawed its way up your throat.

You leaned in, unable to keep the distance between you. Your hand wrapped around his warm, solid bicep, drawing him gently closer. He didn’t resist. Your lips brushed against the harsh line where his metal shoulder met skin, a place that too often bore the weight of his guilt and silence. You pressed a soft kiss there, then another, scattering them along his shoulder blade, the curve of his jaw, and finally to the corner of his mouth. Each kiss was a silent whisper: I love you. You’re not alone.

His breath caught, chest rising sharply, and in the next heartbeat, his lips found yours. The kiss was deep, unhurried, the kind that said everything neither of you could quite put into words. When he finally pulled away, it was only to mirror your earlier gesture, his hands slipping under your oversized knit sweater and lifting it with reverent care. It joined his shirt in a quiet heap on the floor. “I love you so much, Y/N.” He murmured against your mouth, the words rough and tender all at once.

What followed felt timeless, a slow shedding of barriers, both cloth and emotional, until you were stripped bare, wrapped in warmth and each other. Garments fell away between stolen kisses and whispered reassurances. Hands traced the map of each other’s bodies like a prayer, gentle and certain, until there was nothing between you but skin and steam. At one point, his fingers intertwined with yours, he brought your left hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

Then pausing, kissing the delicate glint of the engagement ring that rested there. His eyes met yours, soft and unguarded, and it said more than any vow ever could. Under the cascade of the shower, he held you close. You could feel the tension leaving his frame as your fingers threaded through his damp hair, massaging the soap in gentle circles. You washed away the remnants of blood and sweat, each pass of your hands careful not to press too hard against his bruises. Then it was his turn. He touched you as though you were made of glass.

His hands were hesitant and unsure, but so achingly tender it brought tears to your eyes. Every swipe of the washcloth, every stroke of his palm was deliberate, a silent apology for all the times he’d believed he didn’t deserve softness. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, surrounded by heat and steam and the quiet hum of water. Time didn’t matter. All that did was this, the slow melting of tension, the steady beat of his heart against yours, and the comfort of knowing that here, in this moment, you both had found something worth holding onto.

After drying off and pulling on soft, comfortable clothes, you settled into the rhythm of familiarity. Bucky perched at the edge of the bed, phone in hand, as he FaceTimed Morgan. You watched as the tired lines around his eyes softened at the sight of her excited face, his voice lifting just enough to sound like himself. “I promise I’m in one piece, kiddo,” He reassured her, holding the camera up so she could see the both of you. “Got a surprise for you next time I visit. I just know you’re gonna love it!” Morgan giggled, already speculating what said “surprise” was.

As the call continued, he had her and you laughing in no time, making goofy faces, promising to teach her how to do a proper left hook (with Pepper's reluctant permission), and patiently answering every curious question she had about what she had seen on the news. You noticed how his shoulders dropped, tension easing the longer he talked to her. Even Pepper smiled, though her eyes flicked across the screen with a mother's worry, lingering on the faint bruises still visible on his face.

When the call ended and the familiar dial tone hummed into silence, the weight of the night returned. The room felt heavier, quieter. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, phone dangling forgotten in one hand. The other scrubbed across his face as though trying to rub away everything he’d just relived. You straddled his lap slowly, grounding him with your presence, settling so your chest was against his, your arms around his shoulders.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, something you knew calmed him. “You want to tell me what happened?” You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. His throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing. “Yeah,” He rasped. “Yeah, I do.” And so he did. He spoke in starts and stops, piecing what had happened in fragments. He told you about flying to D.C. to expose Valentina de Fontaine. How he’d manage to convince force Yelena and her father, John Walker, Ava Starr, reluctantly, to gather enough evidence to bring Valentina down. But as usual, she was always ten steps ahead.

“She was manipulating this innocent man, Robert Reynolds, Bob, to somehow become the world’s New Avenger under her control, yet her plan had a horrible flaw,” He explained, eyes distant. “Bob, he had another side of him. This drug trail, it wasn’t anything like what happened to Steve or Banner. There was a darkness, a void.” Your hand moved from his hair to his chest, palm flat over his heartbeat. “Go on.” You coaxed softly, watching as his breathing grew more labored.

“The worst part,” He muttered after a long pause shutting his eyes, bracing himself. “Was that this alter ego, he could get inside our heads. All of us. It wasn’t just telepathy. It was like he peeled something back. Like he could reach into the rot of the trauma we’d buried and drag it into the light.” His voice cracked on the last word. Your arms tightened instinctively around his back, rubbing in slow reassuring circles. “He saw inside my worst nightmare,” Bucky continued, each word weighted and raw.

“And then he made me live it again. It felt so real, Y/N. The cold steel of the restraints. The stench of antiseptic. I was strapped down at that H.Y.D.R.A. base again. My body was fighting, but my mind—” His jaw clenched hard. “They were erasing me. Again and again. Every time I’d start to remember who I was, they’d wipe it clean. My name. My face. You.” A pained breath escaped him. “You were fading. I couldn’t hold on to you.” You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “But I’m right here,” You whispered.

“You held on enough to help your friends. To come home to me.” He swallowed back a whimper, blinking back tears. “I didn’t think I’d make it out,” He admitted, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think I deserved to.” You tilted his chin gently until his eyes met yours. “You always deserve to come home.” For a long time, he didn’t say anything, just let himself breathe against you, his arms wrapping around your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

Then, with a shaky exhale, he lifted your left hand and brought it to his lips again. He kissed the engagement ring slowly, reverently, holding your hand against his chest. “This,” He murmured, voice barely audible, “is the only thing that kept me from breaking.” You felt your own tears gather against your lash line as you processed his words. “Bucky, sweetheart, while I'm not thrilled you jumped into danger," You began, your tone soft but laced with honest concern. His arms wrapped around you tighter, keeping you anchored against him.

“I know, doll,” He murmured, his voice low against your lips. “I’m so sorry I scared you.” You pressed your index finger to his mouth before he could say anything else. “But I am so proud of you,” You declared firmly, your words laced with admiration, leaving no room for protest. That brought a real smile to his face, that rare kind of smile that lit up his features and made the years of pain and burden momentarily vanish. The kind of smile that always made you swoon just a little, no matter how many times you saw it.

“Besides,” You added with a dry scoff, “Let H.Y.D.R.A try to get close to you again and see what happens.” He raised an eyebrow, half amused and half confused. “What, you gonna fight 'em with your sarcasm?” You rolled your eyes, but your voice was calm and certain as you lifted your left hand between you. The ring glinted in the low lamplight. “No. You have me. And I’m not going anywhere.” Understanding dawned in his expression, and something unspoken passed between you.

You had seen each other at your best and worst, through blood and bruises and sleepless nights. And still, here you were. That was all he needed. And that was more than enough.

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hatethysinner · 17 days ago

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Papa remmick oh lord my heart…more hcs with an older daughter maybe??? Like tween-teen age

ᴘᴀᴘᴀ!ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ ᴘᴛ. 2

ᴀ/ɴ: PART 2 OF MY 3-PART PAPA!REMMICK SERIES WOOHOO (part 1 here)! I love writing headcanons so please don't stop requesting them y'all, whether they're more of this or something else. I don't have many more ideas in the tank but I'm gonna work my ass off on that third part!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Just more of the most sickly sweet papa!remmick headcanons, tween edition! Minor exploration of hybrid physiology too, but nothing crazy.

she, just like everybody else, can not get a lie past this man. ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ can literally hear heartbeats, so he'll simply listen to her make up a whole story to explain something and once she's done he'll simply say:

“ya wanna try it again with the truth this time?”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ was patient zero of the sassy man apocalypse. don't let her try to backtalk him cause he will shut it down with EASE.

speaking of, if she ever says “you just don’t get it, papa,” ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ will turn around and unload a millennium's worth of “getting it”. after the first few times of an hour long lecture, she just stopped saying it. yapper ass 😭.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ still does her hair every sunday morning. she groans about it now, tells him it takes too long and all that jazz. but she never once asks him to stop, and he still ends it with three kisses and compliments galore.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ takes every single one of her tweenhood rants very seriously. plot holes in her favorite book? he's nodding along. complaints about homework? arms folded and agreeing with every critique. she's wrong more than half the time, but he just loves hearing her talk.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ is THAT parent who checks to see if she's sleeping multiple times a night. he's literally the warioware mom but if the game was entirely rigged and not winnable.

“mmhmm. i see them eyes movin’. hand me the book, baby.” “i was just-” “you was just stallin’. now gimme. ain’t no story better than sleep.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ still sings to her, and now she sings back. she's way better, but he'll never admit it. they've been getting really into this one irish jig recently...

when she gets a compliment, she always turns to ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ first.

“they said my dress was pretty!” “i told you it was. papa always knows.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ keeps a running mental list of the little things she likes. favorites snacks, books, clothes, colors. updates it daily, and he will turn the house upside down if her preferences change.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ wakes her up soft, always. even when they're in a rush, he will never wake her up with anything but a kiss to the forehead and a gravely “mornin’, baby girl.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ starts planning for her birthday at least six months in advance. theme ideas, guest lists, menus, gifts, he's got everything in a secret folder. and when the big day comes, the whole house transforms overnight. do not come out of your room while he's preparing though because his ass will be looking like a madman.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ spoils his daughter constantly. new shoes? hers. favorite dessert? made fresh. saw something cute in the window a week ago? already wrapped and waiting. but she never expects it and always, ALWAYS, thanks him and gives him the biggest hug. he gets real close to crying every single time. HE'S A SENTIMENTAL MAN OKAY?!

“thank you, papa,” “you’re welcome, baby. i’d give you the world if i could.”

speaking of sentimental, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ's the type of dad who says “my girl’s growing up” EVERY OTHER DAY. she could drink a glass of water and he'll start with his misty-eyed reminiscing about how he used to hold her in his arms. it always makes her giggle.

she sleeps exactly like him. dead silent, barely breathing, sprawled in weird poses. ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ thinks its adorable.

when her fangs started to come in, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ lost his mind. walked around the house beaming and asked her to smile a million times that day. he still gets a kick out of it.

“that’s my girl, look at them teeth! ain’t she perfect?”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ's explanation for why his reflection is always funny in the mirror has stayed the same for years.

“papa’s just shy.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ's teaching her gaelic. he just is. in his eyes, she's going to revive the “dead” language.

they have a million inside jokes between each other. they'll say the most random shit and have each other in stitches, and nobody else will ever get it.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ does not play about school picture day. her clothes are ironed out the night before, her hair is always done, and he walks her to school personally while plucking out every speck of dust that dares to threaten his baby's look. and yes, he has every school picture framed in chronological order.

the one and only time she called herself ugly, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ sat her down, looked her dead in the eyes and said:

“don’t you ever lie like that again, baby. you’re the sun. you hear me? the sun.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ makes her lunch every single day, and best believe there's a handwritten note in perfect cursive tucked inside, with a doodle on the back. each one is unique and incredibly heartfelt. sometimes, she’ll write a note back.

and every night, guess where ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ is? kneeling at her bed and asking the same question he's asked since she was still in his arms.

“ya know who loves ya?” “you do, papa.” “damn right i do.” same as always. hand over heart. eyes full of stars.

#i def went overboard #i kinda zoned out BYEEEE #loved writing this though #holding space for the wicked reference #remmick x reader #remmick #black!fem!reader #black!reader #remmick x black!reader #sinners #remmick sinners #remmick x you #headcanon #headcanons #remmick headcanons #remmick x black!fem!reader #remmick fluff #sinners 2025 #sinners movie

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synity · 22 days ago

Note

Thoughts on 14th member reader being the "daughter" of the families of each member?

Like, whenever a member comes home to their family, their family always asks about reader?

Each members family is fond of 14th member reader (in short)

(if you're fine w it, maybe make the reader have a horrible past of her own family, and the members know about it–and they also tell their families, and thats where the fam-fond-of-reader branched out)

Thanks! Please always take care of yourself💓

Love Speaks for Itself

(OT13 x 14th member!Reader)

*platonic, found family, comfort, angst-to-healing, slice of life, fluff, found family, warmth*

Content warning: mentions of past emotional abuse, family trauma, neglect (no graphic depictions, mostly comfort)*

Before SEVENTEEN, there was silence.

Silence when you cried yourself to sleep. Silence when you whispered apologies for things you didn’t do. Silence when your parents forgot your birthday, again. Silence when the bruises weren’t physical, but they still bloomed inside your chest.

You didn’t know what love looked like. Not the kind that stays. Not the kind that listens. Not the kind that doesn't hurt.

And then, you became a trainee.

And then after years of dancing until your body begged to stop, singing through hoarseness, and pretending you weren’t lonely something happened.

They debuted you.

As SEVENTEEN’s 14th member.

A risk. An experiment. A maybe. But for the first time in your life you were chosen.

And SEVENTEEN? They didn’t just welcome you.

They adopted you.

From the beginning, you were their sister. The youngest. The softest. The one who made even Jeonghan act like a responsible older brother, who made Seungcheol keep a mini first aid kit in his bag “just in case Y/N trips again,” who made Mingyu remember to pack snacks because “Y/N always forgets to eat.”

You thought it would fade.

That maybe it was just debut excitement. A honeymoon phase.

But three years later, you still had Jeonghan texting you to go to bed. Still had DK braiding your hair before music shows. Still had Joshua bringing you lavender tea backstage when he noticed you biting your nails. Still had Woozi pretending he “accidentally” left songs in the studio for you to listen to first.

And more than all of that…

You had their families.

The First Time You Knew

You remember the first time it happened.

You were in the car with Seungkwan after a long filming day. He was driving you both to his hometown in Jeju for a small holiday.

“I promise, it’s just a dinner,” he said. “My mom wanted to see you.”

You blinked. “Me?”

He glanced at you. “Yeah? She said and I quote ‘Bring Y/N or don’t come at all.’”

You laughed it off, thinking it was a joke. But the moment you stepped through the door and smelled home-cooked food, you froze.

His mother’s arms were already around you.

“Y/N-ah,” she whispered. “You’re thinner. Are you eating enough, sweetheart?”

You froze. Your throat closed. It had been years since anyone asked that like they meant it.

When she set a bowl of stew in front of you and said, “I made this for you, not him,” you almost cried.

Later that night, Seungkwan tucked a blanket around your shoulders while you sat on his family’s couch.

“Kwannie,” you whispered, “Did you… tell her? About my family?”

He nodded, softly. “Only what you let us know.”

You stared at him.

“She said… you’re her daughter too, now.”

He didn’t answer. But his hand found yours and squeezed.

And in that moment, something you thought was broken inside you flickered.

And Then It Became Normal

It wasn’t just Seungkwan’s family.

Jeonghan’s mom started mailing you vitamin packets.

DK’s family invited you to every meal. “Even if Dokyeom can’t come, Y/N should,” they’d say.

Mingyu’s sister called you by your nickname and asked for dance advice.

Jun’s mom in China mailed you mooncakes, wrapped carefully with a handwritten card: “You’re as much my child as Junhui.”

Hoshi’s dad took one look at you during Chuseok and said, “So this is the kid they’ve been talking about.”

You blinked. “Talking?”

He smiled. “Of course. You’re the family’s pride, Y/N. Every single one of them talks about you like you hung the moon.”

And Then It Became Healing

Your birthday came.

You expected a cake. Maybe a surprise dance video. You’d been trained not to hope for more.

But instead

Thirteen boys walked you into a room filled with photos.

Photos of you.

From debut. From your trainee days. From random moments you didn’t even know they took.

Joshua stepped forward with a soft smile. “We didn’t want to celebrate you just because it’s your birthday.”

Woozi added, “We wanted you to see what we see. Every day.”

The wall said:

“To Our Youngest: The One We’re Proud To Call Family.”

You cried.

Ugly, messy tears.

And each of them held you like your pain was theirs, like your story mattered, like they would never let anyone forget your worth again.

Their Families, Too

It was funny how natural it became.

Dino’s mom texted you about your favorite café before you even told her. Seungcheol’s dad saved you a seat at every barbeque. Joshua’s mom sent you devotionals and herbal candies in the same care package. The8’s grandmother told you over the phone that she considered you a granddaughter now.

And sometimes, when you had nightmares of your past, you’d wake up to a text:

[Mom] Y/N-ah, I had a dream you looked sad. Are you okay? It would always be one of their moms.

One Day, You Asked

You sat beside Woozi in the practice room, both of you working on a song.

It was quiet, golden hour painting the floor in honeyed light.

And then you asked:

“Why do they all… care so much? Your families. You guys. I’m not even blood.”

Woozi looked at you, then turned back to his guitar.

“You know,” he said, “my mom once told me something.”

“What?”

He strummed a soft chord.

“She said family isn’t made of blood. It’s made of kindness that shows up even when it doesn’t have to.”

You stared at him.

He met your eyes.

“You showed up for us. For years. You gave us laughter, support, songs, warmth. You made this group better not because we asked you to, but because you chose to.”

His voice went quieter.

“And we all saw what you lost. What you never got. So we decided, as quietly as we could… to give it to you.”

You looked away, eyes burning.

“And our families,” he added, “They just followed our lead. They see the light you bring to us. How could they not love you too?”

Now

It’s been nearly five years since your debut.

You’re no longer “just the 14th member.” You’re Y/N. The moodmaker. The heart of the team. The glue.

Carats adore you.

You write lyrics now. Direct stages. Mentor rookies. You're adored in interviews. You’ve grown.

And still

When Seungcheol visits home, his mom says, “Did Y/N eat? She looked pale in the last live.”

When Joshua goes to church, the aunties say, “Tell that sweet girl to come next time.”

When Vernon visits LA, his sisters ask, “How’s our favorite?”

And when you win an award, you get thirteen texts that night from different moms and siblings and cousins and grandparents — all saying the same thing:

“We’re proud of you.”

“You’re family.”

Because you are.

They made sure of it. And they always will.

Even if you never got it from the people who brought you into this world you found it, here.

In thirteen brothers. In a sea of parents who chose you. In love that doesn’t walk away.

And every time someone asks, “Whose daughter is Y/N, anyway?”

The answer is simple.

“Ours.”

472 notes · View notes

checkeredflagggs · 9 months ago

Text

Three Hearts Left

Pairing: max verstappen x fem!gamer!reader

summary: fans (and friends) are shocked when they find max is married and to who

a/n: I’m only a casual gamer so take it with a grain of salt

a/n 2: sorry it’s a really late - the weather hates me personally (it is actually September and doesn’t need to be 85* 😡) and it drained my creativity also I got hella sick so 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n 3: I know I use the name Twitter when talking about that site. I’ll stop deadnaming it when musk rat does too

a/n 4: still not feeling 100% but I wanted to get this out for max’s bday!!

catpawsgaming

Welcome to the CatTree with the paw prints 🐾 ! I’m just a cat 🐈 mom Lady™ who loves the gaming but not the camera 📷. I’ve been playing games all my life and have been streaming for 3 years — as a hobby, not a full time job. I love my 2 cats, my handsome man, and you 🫵 all my lovely fans. You most definitely make all this worthwhile so mwah mwah 💋💋 (video)

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 6,583,455 others

catpawsgaming: here we go! Baldur’s Gate 3 has been highly highly requested — so I bought it! …yesterday and forgot about it cause curse of capitalism I still have my day job 😭 but away we go!

As always, if you didn’t manage to catch my livestream it’ll be on my page and I’ll be uploading it to my YouTube channel tomorrow! My YouTube will have the 3 usual versions (one unedited with my reactions, one with just the game play, and one with no sound at all but with closed captions)

Next stream date and game tbh announced but will probably be this Sunday with Animal Crossing (fingers crossed 🤞🤞 I finally get a good turnip price 😭😭 Daisy Mae hasn’t been kind to me lately…)

view all comments

user1: guuuurrrrrrrllll it’s about time you got bg3! We been waiting

↳ catpawsgaming: definitely worth the wait though! I had so much fun and it was so hard to stop for the night

↳ user2: for sure it was 🤣 your reactions to shadowheart and astarion were hilarious

↳ catpawsgaming: they clocked my type on point

user3: glad we convinced you to become a bard! You’ll rock it 💙

↳ catpawsgaming: ok but this the closest you will get me to actually performing so enjoy it while it lasts

↳ user3: not gonna sing along?

↳ catpawsgaming: 🤣🤣🤣 🫵 🤡

↳ catpawsgaming: absolutely not.

↳ catpawsgaming: also handsome just bust out laughing at the thought of me singing so…🙄🙄🙄 he’s lucky I love him

↳ handsome: I am very lucky liefje

↳ user3: ahhhh we were so close to her singing but also awwww cause handsome is here!!

handsome: liefje this was amazing

↳ catpawsgaming: thank you 🥰🥰

↳ catpawsgaming: but also you were laughing at me the entire night so…

↳ catpawsgaming: not sure how much I believe you

↳ handsome: well I didn’t say it was good…

↳ catpawsgaming: 🤨😒😔😢

↳ handsome: 🥰🥰🥰

user4: oh to have a man that will spend hours with you doing separate hobbies together…

↳ catpawsgaming: gotta admit it’s the dream

↳ handsome: you’re the dream liefje

↳ user4: ok there handsome, no need to get sappy here on MY comment thread

Private Messages

mv1updates

liked by user, user, user, and 2,833,736 others

mv1updates: Max was streaming today! Just a short one but highly entertaining. Jimmy (or Sassy? I’m honestly baffled and for the life of me can’t tell them apart 😢) caused a small disturbance in the middle of his stream then slept the rest away in Max’s lap 😍

view all comments

user5: that was sooooo adorable!! Love seeing more cat dad Max

↳ user6: same! And don’t feel bad admin - I can’t tell them apart either

user7: to be Jimmy…🥵

↳ user8: right? What I wouldn’t give to be sleeping away in his lap…

↳ user9: blessed be. His damn thighs man 😳

user10: ok but am I the only one that heard a female voice in the background?

↳ user11: I THOUGHT I WAS GOING INSANE?? Like there was definitely someone there

↳ user12: wait when?

↳ user10: when max turned the camera to show jimmy on top

Private Messages

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 5,822,944 others

catpawsgaming: and Daisy Mae delivered this week! Sunday I got a price of 90 and today!! Selling price of turnips is 658 this evening!! Woohoo!

I've got my usual set up going to allow visitors to sell and I’ll be playing for about 4 or 5 hours so let’s make some cash today! I just ask you be respectful of my island.

My week is looking pretty busy (a lot of traveling happening) so my next stream will probably be sometime next week and I’ll be playing Horizon: Zero Dawn! Its sequel will be coming out soon and I want to replay the first to refamiliarize myself with the game!

view all comments

user13: yeessssss! I’ve been holding out that someone would have some fantastic selling prices this week! New house upgrade here I come!

↳ user14: oh don’t I know it! It’s been a downward slump all week for me — the high was 105 😭😭

↳ user13: ouch 🤕

user15: did anyone else hear the cat meowing in the background!

↳ user16: yes! Catpaws has got a couple of cats — they’re almost never on stream (they don’t like staying in one place for long) but catpaws got them right before they started streaming!

↳ catpawsgaming: 2 of them! They’re my babies! 🐈🐈

↳ user15: awwwww 😍😍

user17: can I say something? Is this a safe place?

↳ user18: it is not but say it anyway

↳ user17: it totally looks like she’s got a wedding ring on in the beginning of this stream

↳ user18: nurse! She’s out again

↳ user19: no no no let her cook. I totally thought the same. It was literally just a glimpse but I swear that she had a ring on

↳ user17: thank you! I knew I wasn’t crazy

↳ user19: but! That does mean our catpaws is married!!!!!

↳ user17: 😱

↳ user18: 😱

↳ user19: 😱

↳ catpawsgaming: 😉

↳ handsome: 💙

↳ user17: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?

catpawsupdates

liked by user, user, user, and 3,126,918 others

catpawsupdates: we’ve had a couple of requests lately asking about catpawsgaming and her cats! These are the first and last photo we’ve gotten — she’s incredibly secretive about them so we don’t know if this is the same cat in both photos or if she has 2 bengals (peep also handsome in the first photo. Catpaws was laughing when she posted that photo cause she’s usually the passenger princess)

view all comments

user20: I LOVE THEM

↳ user21: same! Insert that meme. “I’ve only had them for a day but if anything happened to them I kill everyone else then myself”

↳ user22: extreme but agreeable.

user23: that’s sassy - I’d bet money on it

↳ user24: sassy? What? Who?

↳ user23: sassy verstappen! F1 world champion max verstappen’s cat

↳ user24: ummm? This is a page for a small time gamer catpawsgaming

↳ user23: listen. Torture couldn’t get me to admit how long I’ve spent staring at pictures and videos of jimmy and sassy. But that is absolutely sassy!

↳ user17: I’m connecting the dots as I type

↳ user18: you’re not connecting shit

↳ user17: CONNECTING THE DOTS AS I TYPE

Private Messages

Bluesky

Private Messages

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 3,712,222 others

catpawsgaming: tonight’s stream is gonna be a little late — I’m currently being held hostage by the cutest kidnapper ever

view all comments

user24: awwww

user25: your right. You simply can’t move!

↳ catpawsgaming: completely pinned down!

↳ user25: I don’t think anyone is gonna have a problem with your steam being late tonight

↳ user26: I’ve spoken to the council and we don’t! In fact we all vote for a stream of literally just the cat

↳ catpawsgaming:…you know that is an idea

↳ user26: omg. OMG. OH MY GOD!!

user23: THATS JIMMY!! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE

↳ user27: ok grandma. Let’s get you back to bed

handsome: so that’s where the little troublemaker is

↳ user28: omg hi handsome! Where’ve you been?

↳ catpawsgaming: ok I love all my fans but plz stop flirting with my man

↳ user28: can I flirt with you instead?

↳ catpawsgaming: 😳

↳ handsome: no

Private Messages

Bluesky

user29: ITS MAX VERSTAPPEN AND CATPAWSGAMING!!!! I TOLD YOU ALL

↳ user30: ok but are we really gonna take a gossip page as the truth?

user31: OH MY GOD THAT CRAZY FAN WAS RIGHT?!?

↳ catpawsgamingfan: I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOOOOUUUUU

view all comments

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 8,345,765 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: liefje I know this is not how we wanted to share our love with the world but a light in the darkness is now I get to talk about how much I love you and how you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. These past 5 years have been a dream come true — and it’s been a dream I never knew I had. Seeing you that first time, you took my breath away. Forget the trophies and the victories, the world championships and titles I’ve won — becoming your husband has topped every single one of them. I can’t imagine my life without you anymore and I wouldn’t ever want to

comments have been restricted on this post

yourusername: oh my handsome man…you are the light of my life, the moon in my night, the stars in the sky, the best husband ever and the most loving cat dad I could have ever wanted to spend my life with. Thank you thank you thank you for picking me and staying with me and fighting for me and with me 💋💋

2K notes · View notes

daisymbin · 4 months ago

Text

[14:03] - girldad!wonwoo

a/n: a longer than usual timestamp 🥲

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

wonwoo liked to think of himself as a reasonable man. he wasn’t the jealous type—at least, not usually. but the second he sat back down at the table, his five-year-old daughter tugged on his sleeve, looking very, very serious.

"appa," jaeyi whispered, eyes big and round. "a man was talking to eomma while you were gone."

wonwoo paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. "...what?"

jaeyi scooted closer, glancing around like she was sharing top-secret information. "he was smiling soooo much and talking and talking and talking. and then—" she gasped, putting her hands on her cheeks. "eomma laughed."

wonwoo turned to you immediately, eyes narrowing. "you laughed?"

you sighed. "wonwoo—"

"with another man?" he cut in, bottom lip jutting out into an exaggerated pout as he shakes his head disapprovingly, "how could you?"

you groaned, already regretting not stopping jaeyi before she could start. "it was just an old friend from college."

"but why were you laughing?" wonwoo mumbled, sulking as he poked at his food. "what was so funny?"

jaeyi tugged on his sleeve again, her little face full of concern. "appa... do you think he’s trying to steal eomma away?"

wonwoo gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. "you think so too?!"

"mhmm," jaeyi nodded frantically, looking at you with big, worried eyes. "eomma, do you like that man more than appa?"

you rolled your eyes. "oh my god."

"eomma," jaeyi whined, hugging your arm. "you can’t leave appa! he’s the bestest!"

wonwoo sniffled dramatically. "jaeyi, what do i do? what if she leaves me?"

jaeyi thought very hard, tapping her tiny chin before gasping again. "appa, you gotta be extra extra nice to eomma today so she doesn’t leave!"

"you’re right," wonwoo nodded solemnly. "i’ll hold her hand all day. and hug her a lot."

"yes! and give her kisses!"

"mhmm, lots of kisses."

"and make sure you sing eomma to sleep like you do for me! maybe tell her princess stories too! I always love you a little more when you sing and read to me! maybe it will work!!"

you groaned, covering your face. "why are you both like this?"

jaeyi gasped again, suddenly panicked. "appa! what if the man comes back?"

wonwoo immediately grabbed your hand under the table, holding on tight. "then i won’t let go."

jaeyi clapped her hands excitedly. "eomma see!appa is a hero! he is going to save our family!"

you sighed, shaking your head as wonwoo smirked at you. "this is ridiculous."

"but you love us," he teased.

jaeyi grinned. "eomma loves appa soooo much!"

"do i?" you teased back, but your smile gave you away.

wonwoo pouted again, leaning close. "you do, right? right? jaeyi, tell her."

"eomma, say you love appa!" jaeyi giggled, bouncing in her seat.

you sighed, pretending to think about it before finally giving in. "i love you."

"who?" wonwoo pushed playfully.

"you, silly." you say as you pushed at his arm.

"and who am i?"

you chuckled knowing what he wants to hear before answering, "my husband."

"so say it properly!" his sulky tone returned, "jaeyi-ah, your eomma won't tell me she loves me properly!" his pout growing tenfold in front of his daughter.

"eomma say it properly!!!" she demanded, a twinning pout on her tiny lips as she folded her arms.

you laughed, feeling a sense of wholesomeness at how your five year old daughter is trying to play matchmaker for you and your husband, "i love you, my husband."

wonwoo grinned, his sulky mood disappearing in an instant. "see? i win."

jaeyi cheered, throwing her hands in the air. "appa wins eomma’s heart forever!"

you shook your head, laughing. "you both are impossible."

wonwoo squeezed your hand, eyes full of warmth. "but you love us anyway."

"im reconsidering that, really."

"appa! now you have to tell eomma you love her too!" it was now her turn to demand from her dad.

wonwoo chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. "i love you too, my wife."

1K notes · View notes

sunarryn · 3 months ago

Text

DP X Marvel #14

It all started with a ghost. A very loud, very neon, very annoying ghost that thought it was a great idea to haunt Stark Tower. Danny Fenton—part-time student, full-time accidental hero, and perpetually exhausted teen—was just trying to track the damn thing through the Manhattan skyline when his portal malfunctioned (again), exploded in his face (again), and slingshotted him across the sky, straight through a window that turned out to be reinforced vibranium glass.

It should’ve stopped him. It didn’t.

Cue the alarms. Cue the dozens of defense drones locking onto his energy signature. Cue a 19-year-old Danny dangling upside down in the penthouse, surrounded by billion-dollar murder bots, trying to explain to a very confused AI that he was not, in fact, an alien invader.

But before FRIDAY could blast him into oblivion, a small voice piped up from behind a couch. “Are you a fairy?”

Danny blinked. Dangling upside down. Singed suit. Ectoplasm dripping from his hair. “Uh. Sure.”

The voice belonged to a tiny, curly-haired gremlin wearing a tutu, light-up sneakers, and what looked like Tony Stark’s old Iron Man helmet—three sizes too big and twice as chaotic. This was Morgan Stark. Age: five. Chaos level: eldritch god. She approached him like a cat approaches a new toy: equal parts curiosity and threat assessment.

“Can you do sparkles?” she asked.

Danny shot a tiny beam of ecto-energy at the ceiling light, which exploded into fireworks.

Morgan gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A FAIRY.”

And that was how Danny Fenton became Morgan Stark’s official babysitter.

It wasn’t like he volunteered. Or got paid. Or even agreed. Tony Stark had been out of the country—something about a diplomatic mess in Wakanda and a golf game with T’Challa. Pepper had begged Steve Rogers to watch Morgan, but Steve’s idea of babysitting was forcing a child to recite the Constitution. So Pepper, desperate and very, very sleep-deprived, walked into her penthouse to find a teenage boy hovering in midair while her daughter screamed “FAIRY GODBRO” at him and decided, “Yeah. Sure. This’ll do.”

“Can you keep her alive?” Pepper asked, not even blinking at the glowing green eyes.

Danny shrugged. “Uh. I guess?”

“You get dental.”

Danny had no idea what that meant but was too scared to argue.

By Day Three, he was in hell. Not the Ghost Zone. Not some apocalyptic alternate timeline. Actual hell. Or what felt like it. Morgan had no concept of mortality. She once duct-taped kitchen knives to her arms and yelled “I’M WOLVERINE NOW.” Another time, she tried to feed their Roomba peanut butter and sobbed when it wouldn’t eat.

Danny tried to keep up. He really did.

Unfortunately, he was also being hunted by an interdimensional ghost warlord named Balthazar the Undying who decided Stark Tower was a great place to stage his declaration of conquest. So in between coloring pages and singing “Let It Go” for the 57th time (because Morgan said if he didn’t, she’d tell everyone he “pees ectoplasm”), Danny was banishing ancient horrors to the Shadow Realm.

“Why does the air taste like sadness?” Morgan asked one morning, sipping chocolate milk while a spectral hand clawed its way out of the floor behind her.

Danny shot it with a laser without looking. “That’s just the trauma, kid.”

She nodded like that made sense.

By Day Five, things got weirder.

Bruce Banner came over to “assess the babysitter.” What he found was a 19-year-old ghost hybrid making chicken nuggets with one hand while performing an exorcism on a sentient blender with the other. Bruce blinked. “You’re multitasking.”

Danny, dead-eyed and covered in slime: “You’re not my real dad.”

Bruce left after Morgan bit him.

Then Peter Parker dropped by. He took one look at Danny—haggard, twitching, wearing a tiara—and whispered, “Oh my god, he is a hot mess.”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped, using his foot to hold down a haunted Roomba. “Help me tie up the possessed dolls.”

Peter did not help. He just filmed everything for TikTok. The video went viral under the title “Me when I leave a random ghost fairy babysitter with Tony Stark’s child and come back to find him summoning the underworld during snack time.”

Nick Fury saw the video and sent a S.W.O.R.D. strike team to investigate.

Morgan beat them with a plastic lightsaber.

On Day Seven, Danny woke up to find Morgan riding a flying toaster around the living room like it was a dragon.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?”

“I summoned it,” she said proudly.

“HOW.”

“I made a deal with your ghost friends.”

Danny’s left eye twitched so hard he saw the Ghost Zone.

Pepper walked in on him mid-breakdown. “You’ve been great with her,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We haven’t seen her this happy since… well, ever.”

Danny, clinging to the ceiling like a feral raccoon, wheezed, “I think she opened a portal to the Necroplane. There’s a demon named Craig living in the fridge.”

Pepper patted his arm. “All babysitters say that.”

Craig opened the fridge and waved. “Sup.”

By Week Two, Danny had stopped pretending to be normal. He phased through walls, levitated toys, vaporized anything that smelled like danger, and occasionally screamed “I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING A MID-LIFE CRISIS” into the void.

Tony finally came home. He blinked at the scene: Danny napping upside down like a bat while Morgan built a nuclear reactor out of old toaster parts and a Roomba named Kevin.

“Who the hell is that?” Tony asked.

Morgan didn’t even look up. “My fairy godbrother. He banished an evil frog ghost and helped me build an orbital laser.”

Tony stared. “Huh. Alright.”

And just like that, Danny Fenton became part of the Avengers.

He didn’t sign anything. He didn’t train. He didn’t even get a uniform. But every time something exploded or a portal opened or some ancient deity said “BEHOLD MY TRUE FORM,” Danny just floated into the air, cracked his back like an old man, and said, “Not in front of the child, you drama bitch.”

Morgan, from her juice box throne: “YEET HIM INTO THE VOID, DANNY.”

And he did.

It only got worse when the other Avengers got involved.

Natasha tried to teach Morgan how to do spy stuff. Morgan used the techniques to sneak into Tony’s wine cellar and replace the labels with glitter glue and threats.

Thor visited once. Morgan asked if she could ride his hammer. He said no. She cried. The hammer floated toward her on its own. Danny had to wrestle it away.

Clint brought over a bow and arrow set. Morgan hit Peter in the ass with a suction cup dart. Danny laughed so hard he choked on ectoplasm.

Wanda stared at Danny for a full ten minutes before whispering, “You’re not from this plane.”

Danny, deadpan: “Neither is your eyeliner.”

They became friends.

One night, Danny woke up to find Morgan drawing summoning circles on the walls in glitter glue.

“Whatcha doing, champ?”

“Trying to summon a unicorn for Auntie Yelena.”

Danny blinked. “Go back to bed.”

She glared. “You don’t support women in STEM.”

By Month One, SHIELD had officially labeled Danny as a “Class 7 Unexplainable Being with Babysitting Potential.” He had a badge. He had clearance. He had no idea what was happening anymore.

All he knew was that if Morgan Stark said “Danny, I wanna adopt a ghost puppy,” then by God, he was going to march into the Ghost Zone and wrestle a spectral hellhound into a leash.

And he did.

Its name is Toast.

Danny Fenton—ghost boy, half-dead teenager, babysitter of the year—accidentally became the most powerful figure in the universe. Not because of his powers. Not because of his knowledge. Not even because of his tragic backstory.

But because Morgan Stark liked him. And if you hurt Morgan Stark, you would be introduced to Craig, the fridge demon, and Kevin, the haunted Roomba, and Toast, the ghost puppy, and then, finally, the very angry, very tired, very over-it Danny Phantom who could—and would—yeet you into another dimension for interrupting nap time.

The Avengers knew better than to interfere.

Even Thanos came back to life once, took one look at Danny and Morgan, and said, “No thanks.”

He snapped himself back out of existence.

Danny didn’t even flinch.

Morgan dabbed.

And somewhere, in the vast multiverse of chaos and consequence, Tony Stark looked at his daughter, his haunted apartment, his glowing ghost babysitter eating fruit snacks while levitating a possessed microwave, and muttered to himself—

“Yeah. That tracks.”

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x marvel #danny phantom fanfiction #marvel mcu #mcu #mcu fandom #marvel #crossover #danny phantom fandom #tony stark #iron dad #iron man #pepper potts #morgan stark #marvel fanfic #marvel fandom #mcu fanfiction #mcu fluff

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ogwintersmind · 3 months ago

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Can you do girl dad katsuki

Girl dad — katsuki

Girl dad katsuki who nearly pees his pants when he finds out you're having a girl. He's a loud, aggressive, short tempered man with little patience, how was he going to deal with a daughter??

When she's first born and friends and family come over to visit her he makes sure that everyone washes and sanitizes thoroughly. He lets everyone know not to kiss her, especially on her face, and if his daughter gets sick he'll "blow their asses up.” or something along those lines.

At night when she cries he tells you to stay In bed and he'll handle it. at first he hated changing diapers, but he's gotten used to it… kinda. “There’s no way you should smell like this.. the hell is yer mom feeding you..” if a diaper change and a bottle don’t calm her screams he’ll hold her and sway around the room while humming or singing a tune to her. If he has to he’ll hold her all night while sleeping in the rocking chair so she can get a good nights sleep, even if it means his back will be in pain all morning.

He’s a big softie when it comes to her milestones. Her first words, first steps, the first time she tries solid foods, when she learns to clap, high-five and crawl. it all makes him feel really proud but also sad in a way. Her milestones are signs that she’s growing up and that’s something he wants to hold off for as long as possible.

He carries her around when and wherever she wants. “Daddy up!” she says while the three of you are out for a walk. He’ll smile down at her then put her on his shoulders and make airplane sounds. She's a Velcro baby, when he's doing his push ups she'll be on his back giggling, when he's cooking she's on his shoulders moving his hair like Remi (ratatouille) When he’s eating dinner she’ll be sitting in his lap waiting for him to share another bite of his food with her.

He loves creating little fireworks in the palm of his hand with his quirk for her because it makes her laugh really hard, and it's one of his favorite sounds in the whole world. He loves it when you buy her little versions of his merch. His favorite being the one that says “My daddy and hero all in #1” (I canon katsuki being #1) and there's a picture of him on the little onesies back.

He thought it would be hard being a "girl dad" but it's actually one of his favorite things In the world. He wears his title like a crown and wouldn't change it for anything. (He still wants a son tho)

Hi friends! This was really hard for me to write for some reason.... But i hope you enjoyed!

Soo sorry to anon who requested for taking so long on this...

But i hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!

Requests are night encouraged and appreciated!

xo-winter ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

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tojisglazer · 6 months ago

Text

🌟Random JJK Men Headcanons!🌟

Creds to @cafekitsune for all dividers!!

Masterlist

NSFW CONTENT UP AHEAD!!

Includes: Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Shiu Kong (Maybe more characters in the future! Recommend some n’ they might be up here next!…just no minors pls unless it’s for fluff 😭😭)

Not rlly proofread so I’m sorry for any mistakes!!!

Kento Nanami

• Would definitely be a whiner, especially when it’s time to get up in the morning, “Mmm..darlinggg…”, his grip on your waist becoming tighter. “Just five more minutes.. pretty please…?”, how could you possibly deny your sweet husband?

• Kento will always help you with your hair if needed and is always good at it (You don’t know this, but every night while your sleeping, he watches YouTube videos on how to style curly hair in cute styles he knows you’d like).

• Rarely ever cries to you since he doesn’t want you stressing out over him. When he did cry, however, you’d be sure to have him lay on your lap and softly coo at him until he falls asleep.

• Will be the cook of the house. Sure, he’d let you cook a few meals from time to time, but he would prefer cooking for you instead of vice versa. (His food ALWAYS ended up delicious)

“Kento let me cook for tonight please! You cook all the timeee!” You whine as you’re being dragged back to the living room by your husband.

“Please, my love, sit down. I want you to relax this evening.” Kento kisses you on your forehead as he sits you down on the couch. “Dinner will be ready in a few, okay?”

“Tomorrow night Kento, I will be cooking.” You say with a pout on your face, and Kento can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

• When one of your favorite songs of all time play on the car radio, you’d scream the lyrics, eventually luring Kento in to sing with you. He probably wouldn’t know half of the songs you listen to, but he’ll still sing with you if it makes you happy.

• Never calls you by your name unless something serious is going on. Will always call you baby, sweetheart, darling, love, or honey. (Ex. “Love, if you don’t mind, could you get me a sandwich from that bakery I always go to?” “Honey, you’re always so good to me, I love you so much.”)

• Speaking of which, he loves it when you call him sweetie, Ken, or even if you refer to him as “your man”. He gets hard just thinking about it.

• He’s definitely a little pervert. Whenever you’re out the house for a lengthened period of time, he’d use the opportunity to steal multiple pairs a pair of your used underwear and jack off to it in your shared bedroom, making sure to leave his cum right in the center of your panties. Little did he know, however, the cameras in your house caught every second of it.

• Kento would absolutely love to be dominated by you. Just the thought of you riding him and fucking him with your strap until there’s tears rolling down his face just does something to him.

• He’ll beg and whimper to you at any point during sex, the way he looks so pathetic as soon as you have him in your grasp is something indescribable and makes you want more. “Mmh—babyyyy—haah—oh goddd—I’m gonna cumm-”

“L-Love please—please let me—”

“Ooohhhh—can’t hold it b-back, d-darling-“

• We all know this man is an absolute king when it comes to aftercare. Giving you a minute to rest, he goes to your kitchen and brews up some chamomile tea. Afterwards, he runs a warm bath with some rose petals which he knows you like.

Toji Fushiguro

• Isn’t very good at communication due to being raised in nothing but an abusive household. Knowing this, you help him every step of the way, and he can’t help but look at you with hearts in his eyes.

•He’ll hit you with a dad joke at the most random and unexpected times. You could both be showering together and he’d be talking about some, “What do you call two ducks and a cow? Quackers and milk.” They’ll always make you laugh, though.

• Expect Toji to tease you 24/7. For example, if you’re wearing a bonnet, best believe he’s snatching it off as soon as you walk past him, laughing and holding it over his head as you’re trying to take it back.

-SWOOP- All you feel now is a breeze on the top of your head instead of your trusty bonnet. “Toji I swear to God if you don’t stop snatching my bonnet there’s gonna be problems.” You turn to face the man who now has your leopard print bonnet in his big hand.

“Oh please girl,” you hated the way he mirrored your sass. (You didn’t) “Y’r not gonna do a thing to me.” He chuckled, now putting your bonnet on his head.

“Tojiiiii you’re gonna stretch it outtt!” You groaned and hit his chest, yet Toji doesn’t pay you any mind.

“Babyyyyy,” He mimics you, “I’ll give it back under one condition.”

You sigh, knowing the exact condition.

“Jus’ gimmie a kiss, and the bonnet is all yours.”

• His usual go-to of pet names would include: Doll, babe, baby, ma, brat, and princess (Ex. “Babe, you wanna come to this new restaurant with me? Heard they had some good steak.” “Quit bein’ such a little brat.” “Y’look so damn pretty, doll.”).

• Toji brags to his best friend Shiu all about you, much to his annoyance. He boasts about how pretty you are, how smart you are, how big your ass is, and how lucky he is to have you.

• He absolutely loves the way you treat his five year old son, Megumi. You treat the boy as if he’s your own, and Toji can’t help but smile until his cheeks are sore, and even then he wouldn’t stop smiling.

• This man cannot cook for shit. The only cooking he’s doing would be making toast with butter or ordering takeout.

• He’d definitely eat you out of a house and home and take a fat nap afterwards, though. His portions of food would be enough to feed three people. Living with him, you’d have to go food shopping every two days.

• Though he’d never admit it, Toji loves hugs and how you smother him will all kinds of affection. He’d act all annoyed and tough and claim he doesn’t like it, but deep down you both know he eats it up every single time.

•Expect to see dirty gym socks and other clothing attire scattered across your shared bedroom. You’ll tell him to stop acting like a pig and clean up after himself, but it’ll go in one ear and straight out the other.

• Toji has such a praise kink. Whenever the words “good boy” or any other compliment leaves your pretty lips, it’s like he can’t think for himself anymore.

• He loves, loves, loves, having sex in missionary position with you. He loves being so close to you, being able to smell your special scent, and whisper in your ears, “Look how—fuck—look how messy this pretty pussy is for me, ma.”

“Y’r taking my cock so fucking well, baby.”

“Love ya so fucking much, y’know that? Hah—shit—Yeah, y’know that.” while he’s absolutely demolishing your insides. Don’t get him wrong, the man loves tons of sex positions, but missionary will always be his first pick.

• He may not look the part, but Toji whimpers and moans like crazy when he’s about to cum. “Hnghh—ooohhhh—fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—“

• When he cums, expect a bunch of it. It’s so much that it leaks out of your throbbing cunt and onto the light pink bed sheets, leaving a puddle.

• His kind of aftercare would be licking your clit, ridding it of any leftover cum. Afterwards, he’d give you a water bottle and massage any aching body parts. He’d then order some of your favorite take out and you’d both eat it together while watching some corny dad show he found on tv.

Shiu Kong

• You have this man wrapped around your pretty finger. He’ll spoil you rotten. He couldn’t possibly think of saying no to his princess, especially when he has the money to get you whatever you want.

• You will never find yourself in a position where you need to lift a finger whenever he’s around. You’ll get nothing but royalty treatment.

• Shiu absolutely hates it whenever you’re around Toji. He knows Toji wouldn’t do anything, but seeing you even look at him gets on his nerves.

• You wake up to the smell of some freshly cooked bacon and eggs (or whatever else you’d favor) due to him. His day will literally be ruined if he isn’t able to cook for you.

• Whenever you want your hair and nails done, Shiu will give you the money, plus a little extra so you can get yourself something nice.

• Your car will definitely end up smelling like his cigarettes mixed with his signature cologne after a while.

• You practically beg him to teach you a few words in Korean (mostly curse words) since you claims he sounds so sexy speaking it.

“Come onnnnnn,” you whine, following Shiu around the house as he carries the clean laundry in a basket. “Just one word, please?”

“I’ve already said a word, princess, don’t you remember that?” He stops in his tracks and turns to face you.

“Okay—well—one more!” you pout and cross your arms.

“Don’t do that,” Shiu chuckles, then sighs contently. “How could I ever say no to you, beautiful?” Your eyes light up and a big smile is displayed on your face.

“사랑해요, 예쁜.” He whispers in your ear and leaves a kiss on your cheek.

“What’s that mean??”

“It means I love you, pretty.” He cups your face with two hands. You can’t help but giggle and leave a kiss on his lips.

• Like Kento, Shiu wouldn’t call you by your name at all. He hasn’t called you by your name ever since you two first met. Sometimes you wonder if he even knows your name (he does). The names he calls you are: Doll face, love, princess, pretty, beautiful, bunny (Ex. “Did y’want this necklace, princess?” “Let’s go out to eat, doll face.” “You can take it, bunny, can’t you? Yes you can.”).

• Every morning, his head is found in between your legs, licking and sucking at your clit. Every time you try to push his head away due to overstimulation, he says “Come on, pretty, m’just eating some breakfast, gimmie a minute.”

• This man is extremely weak for head. His breathy moans only get louder as he’s getting closer and closer to his climax. “Ohh f-fuck—my love—s-s’close—”

“Y’r sucking s’good pretty—mmh—so fucking good-”

• He’ll immediately return the favor by stuffing your sobbing pussy with his fat cock, thrusting in an unforgiving pace. “H-Hah—you h-hear that? Y’hear how she’s—shit—purring for me l-love?”

“I know you can take it bunny, I know you can—ooohhh ffffuckkkk-”

• After he’s done with you, he kisses your forehead and wipes you down with a warm damp towel. He then massages your plump thighs and kisses your face a bit more. When you’re finally asleep, he goes out to your balcony for a quick smoke.

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piinnkkryyss · 23 days ago

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LIKE A TATTOO | SMOKE “ELIJAH” MOORE.

PAIRING — smoke x pharmacist!reader

SUMMARY — Just a slow, unbroken stretch of intimacy, tension (if you squint), and (really) quiet understanding. It’s dusk. You’re alone. And he’s at your doorstep again.

CONTENT — NO WARNINGS (that I know of 🫩)

RENYlogue; I’m black, so… I write my characters in a slight description of me but there’s not really any description in this so read freely if you’d like.

—AUGUST 17th, 1932 It starts like this: a cough at the back of the room, sharp and shallow, more stubborn than sick. You don’t turn right away. You finish straightening the bottles on the shelf—castor oil, menthol salve, a tin of senna leaves. The pharmacy’s quiet in the heat, late afternoon pouring thick through the windows, the wooden counter warm under your fingertips.

The door hadn’t rung. He must’ve come in with that careful walk he has—silent like smoke, all lean shadow and long jaw, always watching, always listening. You know who it is before you turn.

“Elijah.”

You say it soft. Like the name’s a secret.

He leans on the counter with one elbow, half in the light, half in the dark. White shirt rolled to his forearms, the same worn suspenders he always wears when he means to stay a while. He doesn’t smile. He never really does. Just looks at you like he’s seeing something worth memorizing.

“Need somethin’ for a toothache.” He says it like a joke, like a lie. You know damn well he ain’t hurtin’. Not where medicine can reach.

You nod, take your time reaching behind you for the oil of cloves. You don’t ask why he’s really here. You never do. Smoke Moore don’t belong to anyone, but he circles you like he might be trying to. Like something in you keeps pulling him back, even when he don’t want to be caught.

He watches your hands—always your hands. “How’s your daddy?”

“Same,” you say.

“Sleepin’ more than he’s wakin’. Doctor think it won’t be long now.”

Elijah nods slow, jaw working like he’s chewin’ on something unsaid. He knew your daddy before you were born. Most of Clarksdale did. But only Elijah Moore got forgiven for what he became after. Only Elijah got to stay in the story.

You place the tiny glass vial on the counter between you. He doesn’t reach for it. Doesn’t move. Just looks at you like maybe he wants to ask if you sleep at night. If you still sing in the kitchen when you think nobody’s listening. If you still light that candle by the front window when you’re waiting on word from somewhere nobody will name.

Instead he says, “Hot today.”

“Mmhm.” You cross your arms. “Ain’t no wind.”

“You look tired.”

You laugh, dry and low. “Everybody tired.”

He shifts then, finally picking up the vial. His fingers brush yours—warm, rough, careful. He always touches you like he’s afraid he’ll leave a mark. But he already has. “Let me drive you home,” he says.

Not a question.

You shake your head. “Ain’t far.”

“I know.”

Still, he waits.

You close the shop not long after. You don’t say much walking to his car, but he opens the door for you like it’s habit. Like it’s always been that way.

“You still talk to the Lord?” he asks, voice barely loud enough to hear.

You keep your eyes on the road ahead. “Sometimes.”

From the time your dad getting sick and the boys leaving you abruptly to Chicago in the middle of the night. Speaking to the lord felt so much like an echo, like it was all for nothing.

But look who came back.

He nods, like that’s enough.

Your house is quiet. Shutters closed to keep the heat out, front steps swept clean like always. You see the porch chair shift in the breeze, and for a second you think maybe your daddy’s out there, humming like he used to. But no. Just the wind.

Elijah walks you up. Doesn’t ask to come in. Still, you let him.

Inside smells like rosemary and lemon balm, old books and memory. He stands in the doorway while you set your bag down, glances at the picture of your mama on the mantle. You feel his eyes on you again, the way he always looks like he’s tracing something delicate.

“You eat today?” he asks.

You blink. “Don’t think so.”

He nods, slips off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves. “I’ll cook.”

You don’t tell him no.

He moves through your kitchen like he’s been there before. Like he remembers where the flour is, how your daddy likes his greens. You watch him chop onions like a man making penance. You sit at the table, hands folded in your lap.

“Why you come by today?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps cooking, slow and steady, steam rising around him like a ghost. Finally, he says, “Been thinkin’ about you.”

You exhale through your nose. “You always thinkin’, Elijah.”

“I know.” He turns. “But lately it’s been louder.”

You meet his eyes. Dark and tired and full of something you’re too afraid to name.

“Elijah,” you whisper.

“Don’t gotta say nothin’,” he says quick.

“I know what this is. Ain’t tryna make it somethin’ it ain’t.”

You shake your head. “That’s just it. You don’t know. He sets the spoon down. Crosses the room in three steps. Stops short of touching you.

“Then tell me.”

You look up at him, heart kicking against your ribs.

“I don’t want you to be another ghost in this house,” you say. “I don’t want to wake up and have to scrub you out of the air.”

His face goes still. But then he nods. Like he understands. Like maybe that’s what he’s afraid of too.

“I’ll go,” he says. “If that’s what you need.”

But you don’t answer. Not right away. You stand. Move closer. Your hand lifts—slow, uncertain—and rests against his chest.

“I just need you to stay a little while,” you say.

So he does.

The stew simmers low. The light fades blue. Somewhere in the house your daddy coughs once, then falls silent again.

Elijah pulls a chair beside yours. Doesn’t touch you. Just sits. Close enough you feel the heat of him. You rest your head against his shoulder, and he lets you.

Just the weight of a man who’s done too much, and a woman trying not to love him for it.

The cicadas sing. The stew cools. The clock ticks.

And he stays.

AUTHORS NOTE *gasps* I actually wrote something mate longer than 400 words and didn’t give up! CLAP! Anyway, I do wish I wrote better paragraphs though but this’ll do. If you have any reqs they’re always open 🫩.

#smoke sinners #smoke x reader #smoke moore #sinners #ryan coogler #divider @cafekitsune #©piinnkkryyss #fanfic #blurb #smoke blurb #michael b jordan #sinners 2025 #sinners movie #sinners smoke #elijah moore #elijah smoke moore

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