#so here's a tiny animation of him crying :) (he deserves it)

[tero-ga]

Alligator tears 💧

Help Palestinian people in need by donating their fundraisers here!!

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Could I request where pierre and Kika forget their daughters school performance so while every other kid is going to their parents the daughter is just stood their waiting to the where the teacher had to call them and the daughter ignores them until they get home. I know it’s long sorry but if you could do it that would be great ❤️

Forgotten in the rain

The rain had started in a soft drizzle but quickly became a steady pour that drummed against the school’s windows. Inside the assembly hall, the walls echoed with the excited chatter of children and the proud applause of parents. Flashbulbs popped every few seconds as moms and dads documented every smile, every wave, every bow.

Except for one little girl who stood near the back of the room.

Yn clutched her damp paper certificate, its corners curling slightly. She had performed a poem about the seasons—her voice clear, her hands animated. Her teacher, Miss Carter, had told her she’d done wonderfully. The kind of performance that deserved a bouquet, a warm hug, a proud parent grinning from ear to ear. But instead, she stood alone, eyes scanning every adult that walked in, every couple that greeted their child with open arms.

Her dress was a soft pastel pink, chosen by her mother, Kika, two days ago. Her curly brown hair was pulled into two neat braids, and her small boots were now soaked at the soles from pacing near the entrance.

She looked at the clock again.

7:12 PM.

Miss Carter finally noticed the way Yn’s smile had faded. The teacher walked over with a kind smile, kneeling beside her.

"Sweetheart, are you still waiting for someone?"

Yn nodded silently. Her eyes were bright, but her jaw was set.

Miss Carter’s heart ached. "Do you want to come wait in my classroom while I call your parents?"

"Okay," Yn whispered.

---

Pierre glanced at his phone as he sank deeper into the couch, his legs stretched over the coffee table. "Did we ever finish that bottle of wine from last week?"

"The red one? Yeah, I think I did on Tuesday," Kika replied from the kitchen, reaching for a handful of olives.

Pierre sighed dramatically. "We’re such adults. Drinking wine on a Tuesday night."

Kika chuckled, walking into the living room. "What time is it?"

"Just past seven. Why?"

She froze.

Pierre noticed it immediately. "What?"

"Pierre."

"What?"

"Oh my god, Yn’s school performance."

He shot up. "Shit."

She grabbed her phone, nearly fumbling it in her panic. Two missed calls. One voicemail.

"It’s Miss Carter," she said, already pressing play.

Pierre ran a hand through his hair, groaning. "We’re the worst parents."

The message played:

"Hi, this is Miss Carter from Willowbrook Primary. I just wanted to check in—it’s a little past seven, and Yn is still here. She had such a wonderful performance tonight, but it seems no one came to pick her up. I’ll keep her in my classroom until you arrive. Please give me a call back."

Kika was already pulling on her coat. "Let’s go."

---

The ride to the school was painfully silent. Pierre kept glancing at the clock, tapping the steering wheel. Kika sat with her arms crossed, her foot bouncing with guilt.

They found Miss Carter standing by the school doors, holding an umbrella over Yn.

Yn wasn’t crying. She wasn’t pouting. She wasn’t doing anything. She simply stood there, looking small and still, like a little statue in a rainstorm.

When she saw them, her face didn’t light up.

Pierre jumped out first. "Baby, I’m so sorry—"

She didn’t move toward him.

Kika tried. "Yn, we—"

But the child just turned back to Miss Carter. "Thank you for waiting with me."

Miss Carter smiled gently. "You were very brave, sweetheart. I’m proud of you."

Pierre stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can we take you home now, bébé?"

Yn gave a tiny nod and walked toward the car without saying another word.

---

The drive home was colder than the rain outside. Kika turned to speak a few times but couldn’t find the right words. Pierre tried to hold Yn’s hand, but she pulled it away slowly, not harshly, but pointedly.

Once they arrived home, Yn unbuckled her seatbelt herself, climbed out, and walked straight into the house.

Pierre and Kika followed.

"Yn, baby, please, talk to us," Kika pleaded, dropping her keys on the counter.

Yn headed straight for her room.

"Sweetheart," Pierre tried, his voice cracking.

No response. She closed her door behind her with a quiet finality.

Kika sat on the couch, hands covering her face. "I feel like I just broke her heart."

Pierre sat beside her, shoulders slumped. "We really messed up."

"It wasn’t just a show, Pierre. She told us every day this week. She made invitations. She left them on the fridge."

He closed his eyes. "And we just... forgot."

They didn’t sleep much that night.

---

The next morning, Pierre was already in the kitchen by 6:30, trying to make pancakes the way Yn liked them—thin, buttery, with a swirl of strawberry syrup in a heart shape. Kika was chopping fruit, glancing at the hallway every few minutes.

At 7:10, the door creaked open.

Yn walked in, dressed in her school uniform, backpack already on. She looked fresh and neat, as if nothing had happened.

"Good morning," Kika tried, voice careful.

"Hi," Yn replied without looking at them. She opened the fridge, grabbed her lunchbox, and set it in her bag.

"We made you pancakes," Pierre offered.

"I’m not hungry."

The rejection hit harder than expected.

"Yn," Kika tried again, kneeling down, "we are so, so sorry. There’s no excuse. We forgot something really important, and you didn’t deserve that."

Yn met her eyes. "You didn’t come. Everyone else had someone. Even Noah’s dad came, and he works at the hospital."

Pierre approached slowly. "We know. And we feel awful."

"You always say I’m the most important thing," she whispered. "But you forgot me."

Kika’s eyes filled with tears. "You are the most important thing, baby girl. We just—our brains were stupid. We got busy, and we didn’t write it down, and that’s not your fault. It’s ours."

Pierre knelt beside her. "We hurt your feelings. And we’re not asking you to forgive us today. But we want you to know we’re sorry. And we’re going to do better."

Yn looked at both of them, her lips trembling.

"I stood in the rain by myself," she murmured.

"I know, mon coeur. I know," Pierre said, hugging her gently. "And it breaks me."

Finally, Yn leaned into him.

Kika joined the embrace, holding them both tightly. "We love you more than anything."

"Even more than the red wine?" Yn asked, voice muffled in Pierre’s chest.

Pierre laughed through a sniffle. "A thousand times more."

"Even more than your phone, Mama?"

Kika smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "So much more. You’re my whole heart."

Yn finally smiled.

"Can I still have pancakes?"

Pierre stood. "Absolutely. Even if we’re late to school, pancakes are happening."

As they sat together at the table, the storm from the night before seemed to pass, replaced by the simple warmth of shared forgiveness, strawberry syrup, and a heart-shaped apology made of batter.

And from that day on, every calendar in their house—paper, digital, and even the whiteboard on the fridge—had one line written across the top:

"Yn comes first. Always."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🤍🦢

[snail-day]

Good Morning! Based off of this ask !

Yandere! JJK Men x Anxious! Reader

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

WC: 1.1k

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Captivity, Mean Suguru, Humiliation, Infantilization, Toxic Relationships. MDNI

Gojo Satoru absolutely hates seeing you like this, pacing the room, picking at your sleeves, crying without making a sound like your heart’s breaking quietly inside your chest. It doesn’t arouse him. It rattles him. Makes his stomach twist and his hands twitch.

Like a poor puppy who doesn’t know what he did wrong, he panics. Did he miss something? Forget something? Did you need more comfort, more kisses?

He needs to fix it. Fast. So he does it his way. Scoops you right off your feet and into his lap, clutching you close as he wraps all of himself around you. Limbs tangled. Face buried in your neck. A human straitjacket that smells like expensive cologne and the sweets he never stops snacking on. His blindfold hangs forgotten around his neck, baby blues wide and worried, but still with that manic glint. The please-love-me-back glimmer.

“You don’t need to worry about anything anymore, baby,” he murmurs, pressing frantic kisses to your temple. “I’ll take care of it all. You just sit here and look cute for me, ‘kay?”

He locks the door. Turns off your phone. Silences his. Tucks you into his arms like you’re the most precious thing ever. Then he just starts prattling about everything. About his day. About you. About the way you looked this morning when you blinked up at him, about how he wants to take you somewhere quiet where the world can’t reach you.

He talks until your thoughts drown under his words.

“What if something bad happens?”

He gasps, hand over his cheeky grin. “Something already did. You made me fall in love with you.” He’s dramatic. Desperate. Puppy-eyed and pitiful when you don’t immediately melt. But then he kisses your knuckles, every single one, and he gets soft again. Tells you the world’s too cruel and loud and unpredictable. That you weren’t made for that. You were made for him.

So he built something smaller. Simpler. Safer. You just never have to leave him and you'll always be safe <3

Geto Suguru would go in a roundabout way to help with your anxiety. Watching with keen eyes that narrow into thin slits as you tremble, watching your fingers twitch, watching the way your eyes dart around like a frightened animal and he doesn’t pity you. Not one bit.

At first, he was confused. Offended, even. You were his, weren’t you? Chosen. Plucked from the filth of the world and brought into something greater. So why were you still panicking? Why were you still thinking the worst was going to happen when he was right here? Why, after everything he’s done, do you still act like something could take you from him?

But he’s a patient man. Now he sees it for what it is - proof. Proof that you’re not ready. That your mind is too small, too soft, too tainted by the outside world to understand what’s good for you.

So he corrects it. Pulls you into his lap when you're fidgety, roughly this time, none of that gentle coaxing. Makes you kneel between his legs, forces your head against his thigh until you still. One hand in your hair, not stroking anymore, but gripping. The book in his other hand, childishly simple stories, words you can understand without spiraling.

Because anything more than that? You don’t deserve it yet.

“There you go,” he murmurs, barely glancing at you as you try to hide the way you’re shaking. “Simple little stories for my simple little lamb.”

You hate crying in front of him. It makes your chest burn and your throat tighten. But it always happens. Every time he scolds you with that tender voice. Every time he reduces you to something small and helpless, just to remind you where you belong.

“That’s okay,” he coos, thumb wiping a tear with sickening care. “You’re anxious because your teeny-tiny brain is still trying to run, even though you’ve already been caught.”

You always flinch when he comes home bloodied, robes soaked, fingers dripping with proof of his crimes. All it earns you is a chuckle. Disappointed. Cold. “After everything I do for you?” Pulling you into his chest anyway. Forcing your face against the clean part of his robe. You inhale sandalwood, iron, incense, and death.

“I slaughtered them so they couldn’t make you scared anymore.” “I kill for you, and still, you tremble.” There’s a quick pause. A press of lips against your ear. Then, a whisper: “If you can’t stop shaking, maybe I should take more from you. Strip the fear out piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but obedience.”

Nanami Kento is a practical man. Efficient as possible. Which is why when he kidnapped his work wife, his sweet, anxious, overstimulated little thing, made sure everything was perfect. Couldn't have you going around with twitching fingers at the office every time you even try to make a decision. Sometimes your breath would come out too fast, pretty eyes would dart around like the world might just break.

He couldn't bear to see the love of his life wasting away. Tragic. Without getting angry at you for your silly mannerisms, he simply decides that this won't continue. He won't allow it.

So he becomes routine incarnate. Predictable. Soothing. Your life is structured down to the minute. You don’t need to think anymore. He’s already done it for you. Already made the choices, picked out your clothes (buttons them for you even!) and pre-cut your fruit into tiny, manageable bites.

“You don’t have to worry about big decisions, darling,” he murmurs, slipping your slippers onto your feet like you’re a child. “That’s not your job anymore.”

He brushes your hair for you every morning. Times your naps. Keeps your schedule color-coded and simple. There's even a sticker chart for every time you do something good! Your days are now filled with soft things, plushies, warm meals, and quiet melodies. The world he builds for you is safe. No more office meetings, no more passive-aggressive emails. It's good for you.

If you try to leave, if you shuffle toward the door in a rare moment of misplaced courage, whispering about “being okay now”? Simply, he blocks the exit with his full height, causing the air to go heavy, causing you to think, was he always that tall and broad?

“I didn’t go this far just to watch you fall apart again.” His voice is low. Firm. The kind of voice he uses when talking to clients who don’t know what they want, so he decides for them. Just like he decides for you.

“You’re not crazy,” he says, kneeling in front of you as if he’s speaking to someone very small, someone fragile. “You’re just overwhelmed. You need someone to take care of you. That just happens to be me.” Picks you up, carries you back to bed ignoring your cries of protest, the fists hitting his back until you tire out. You hide your face in his chest, ashamed, but he just hums.

“I’ve handled everything. There’s nothing left for you to worry about, darling. Just rest. Let me do the thinking.”

[amourluvie]

◟✿ Twst Housewardens as animals . . .ᐟᅟ

Synopsis . . .ᐟ basically the housewardens as your pets muhehehe also sorry if it's ooc for some of them I wrote this to get rid of my writers block 😭

notes . . .ᐟ i will finish all the homicipher rqs today trust me gang

characters . . .ᐟ riddle rosehearts,Leona kingscholar, idia shroud, malleus draconia, Azul ashengrotto, kalim al asim,vil schoenheit.

Click here for this but with the vice housewardens!

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS as a munchkin cat -

riddle is a very sassy and picky kitty,only wanting to savour the finest quality of cat food and expected princess treatment from you,it's beloved owner ofcourse- always wanting your eyes and attention on him and only him otherwise he would knead at your belly painfully because how can such a cute cat like him can't have attention? He's can get grumpy too at times- hissing at you as you try to pet or hold him. Don't worry he's just having mood swings- or he's jelly over the fact he smelled other cat's nasty smell on you. How can you even think of petting other cat's when he's much cuter than him? Hmph! If he could talk he would definitely gave you a scolding and taunt with a "off with your head!", Other than that,he's a very obedient and calm kitty at most times who just wants your love and affection. Come on you can't say no to his big grey eyes,a pleading look on his face as he wants to be pet.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR - a lion, obviously.

how the hell did you even managed to adopt him!? Who knows and who cares. What matters most is that Leona is a very lazy feline,a demanding one too- he's like riddle,wanting to be spoiled aswell while he's just sleeping 24/7! he's supposed to be a lion for crying out loud! Not a lazy cat! Anyways the good part is that he protects you from any danger,who would want to mess with someone who has a lion for a pet anyways ! He enjoys affection too,him resting in his bed that was made just for him as he enjoys you petting him,soft purrs leaving his mouth. Lions are just like cats but just bigger aren't they?

IDIA SHROUD - as a ragdoll cat

idia is a very shy and nervous kitty- who likes to be left alone at times. He has terrible separation anxiety too at that,poor baby. Idia loves getting affection from you- his blazing blue fur slowly turning into a light shade of pink as he leans into your touch- he always also monitored how you used your electronics, especially when you played games on your pc. He would be very interested and climb into your lap as he watched you play, being very concentrated.

VIL SCHOENHEIT as a bunny

Just like riddle and Leona,vil also demands princess treatment from you. For how ephemeral his beauty that's the least he deserves! a very judgemental bunny at that too. You know you look terrific when your bunny side eyed you,your makeup and outfit was well something else so can you blame him? He wishes he could talk so he would give Beauty advice and tips on how to become as pretty as him! He still loves you,as his owner no matter what though.

MALLEUS DRACONIA as a leopard gecko

malleus was a absolutely stunning pet for you- both looks wise and personality wise. the way he smiles at you when you hold him is too die for! he was so sweet too! Always rubbing it's face across your cheek as affection,his slitted pupils dilating as you pat him on his tiny head. Hes always sitting on the top of your head though,and it's hard to get him off.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO as a flapjack octopus

Azul would always stare at you from his big aquarium with his beady eyes,as you feed him and dipped your hand in the water to touch his head,he kinda flinched at first but leaned into your touch in no time,quickly getting used to it and demanded more. He just wishes he can plop out of the tank and crawl towards you to give you a hug for being such a good owner to him. He would literally beam when you said he was the cutest octopus in the entire universe!

KALIM AL- ASIM as a golden retriever

Kalim is the most brightest,most cuddly dog you have ever had! He was so fluffy too with his silky white mane. He would always follow you to everywhere possible - he cant help it! He's just wants to explore all the fun and adventurous places the world has to offer,with his amazing owner! He's a very curious one at that too,often analysing how things worked,also he loved when you walk him to his favourite park to meet his cobra friend- Jamil!

[snnowwpheenix]

TR boys with a pregnant S/O

Taiju Shiba – The Overprotective Giant

At first, Taiju doesn’t even know how to express himself. The moment you tell him you’re pregnant, he freezes — like the world stops. His fists clench, and you think he’s angry. But then, without a word, he drops to his knees and presses his forehead gently to your stomach. From that moment, you’re his world. No more recklessness, no more absences. He’s there for every appointment, every craving, every sudden emotional wave. He’s built like a tank, but he softens immediately when it comes to you — carrying you to bed when you’re tired, barking at strangers who walk too close, and holding you all night, like he’s afraid the world might take you away. “I used to think I was strong,” he whispers one night. “But now I’ve got something I’d burn the world to protect.”

Manjiro Sano (Mikey) – The Dreamer Who Finds Hope Again

Mikey stares at the ultrasound photo for hours. In a life filled with so much death, loss, and darkness, this new life — your child together — feels like the first time he’s allowed to believe in the future again. He talks to the baby constantly, like they're already here. Rubbing your belly, he’ll say, “Hey, kid. It’s your dad. I hope you like motorbikes and taiyaki.” His voice is soft, playful — but you see that glimmer of light returning to his eyes. He makes big promises — that your child will never know the loneliness he did. That they’ll grow up surrounded by warmth and laughter. That he’ll never run away again. “This time,” he says, arms wrapped around your waist, “I’ve got something to live for. Something to protect… not just myself. Not anymore.”

Kazutora Hanemiya – The Quiet Redeemer

Kazutora is terrified at first. You can see it in his eyes — the guilt, the fear that someone like him doesn’t deserve this kind of happiness. But you reach for his hand, and remind him, “You’re not that kid anymore.” After that, he starts trying in his quiet, Kazutora way. He takes on more shifts at work. Learns how to cook healthy meals from scratch. Paints a tiny animal mural on the nursery wall even though he’s not confident in his art anymore. Sometimes you catch him sitting by your side while you sleep, brushing your hair back and just watching — eyes filled with wonder and doubt and love. “I don’t know if I can be a good dad,” he confesses one night, voice barely a whisper. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”

Keisuke Baji – The Loud, Loving Chaos

Baji is ecstatic. As in — shouting it from the rooftops, fist-pumping the air, telling everyone in Toman kind of ecstatic. He immediately starts preparing, making lists, buying way too many baby clothes with skulls and tiny leather jackets. But underneath the antics is someone deeply serious about being a good partner. He reads parenting books in secret, listens to podcasts, and even tries meditation (poorly) because you said stress isn’t good for the baby. He loves feeling the baby kick. It makes him emotional every time — though he’ll deny it. “I’m not crying, dumbass. Shut up. You’re crying.” But you know the truth. He’s so in love with you — and with this tiny person you’re making together — that it’s almost too big for him to hold. “They’re gonna have your smile,” he says one night, resting his head on your belly. “And maybe my temper. God help us.”

Izana Kurokawa – The Soft-Edged King

Izana never thought he’d have something this pure. He spent his whole life trying to fill a void, trying to claim love in twisted ways — until you. Now, as you carry his child, he’s still quiet, still calculating — but there’s a gentleness to him now. He brushes your hair when you’re too tired to do it. He buys handmade toys from street vendors and inspects them like he’s choosing weapons for royalty. When you’re asleep, he reads out loud — stories of powerful kings, fierce queens, brave children who change the world. “They’ll never know loneliness,” he promises one night. “Not like I did. I’ll build a world where they feel wanted. Always.” And for once, his empire isn’t built on fear. It’s built on love — fragile, growing, but more powerful than anything he’s ever known.

[thedilfdiaries]

You found me

arthur morgan x f!reader || 1.8k

Summary: A routine trip into the woods for herbs turns violent when a coyote attack leaves you injured and alone. But Arthur finds you, and everything changes.

Warnings: just a lil fluff, Arthur fixing reader, animal attack, drawn out tension between the characters

Notes: This is a very secret spy mission I was on tonight for @thundermartini . this is just a tiny thing to say thank you for being the best of the best, for always cheering me on, for being the bees knees, the cats meow, you are truly one of a kind baby and I love you so much 💖🫂🫶🏼 anywayyyyyyyy I hope you enjoy

Masterlist

You’ve spent so much time in the woods that the rustling of the trees usually comforts you. Today, it doesn’t. Today, you’re too far from camp, your satchels too full, your boots are too muddy, and your thoughts are too scattered. The air is warm but heavy, clouds rolling in slow and low above the canopy. You don’t like the feeling, but you ignore it anyway.

You find the patch of wild mint tucked beneath a fallen log and kneel down to gather it—sharp, green, fragrant. It reminds you of Arthur, in a strange way. Something rough, wild, but useful. Healing.

You smile a little at the thought. You’ve been thinking about him more than you should.

Once, not long ago, you’d sliced your palm open on a rusted nail behind the horseshoe station. Arthur had been the one to wrap your hand, gruff but gentle, his brow tight with concern. “Gotta be more careful, sweetheart,” he had murmured, brushing dirt from your knuckles like he couldn’t help himself. You had laughed and called him bossy. But you’d watched the way his jaw worked after—like there was something he wanted to say and couldn’t.

But he keeps his distance. Like he doesn’t think he deserves to get close.

The Van der Linde gang is family, in its strange and fractured way. Arthur’s always treated you kind—respectful in a way some of the others never quite mastered. He listens to you when you speak, doesn’t scoff when you talk about herbs and poultices like the rest of them sometimes do. And he looks at you, really looks at you, like you’re not just another pair of hands around camp.

You pretend it doesn’t bother you.

The growl is quiet, almost too quiet. You hear it just as you’re reaching for another stem. You freeze, heart skipping.

The coyote lunges before you can turn.

You hit the ground hard. It’s not a clean fall—you twist wrong, shoulder slamming into a jagged root, and the pain is immediate and blinding. The breath rushes from your lungs. Claws dig into your back. You scream, shove, thrash, somehow managing to drive your blade into its side. The beast snarls, jerks away, then disappears into the brush like it was never there.

You lie in the dirt, your body screaming, shoulder thudding with pain so intense it turns your stomach.

You can’t breathe right.

You can’t move your arm.

You don’t cry, but your throat burns like you might.

Your vision sways. You lean against a tree and focus on surviving. The pain blooms and blooms and keeps blooming.

When you hear a horse, you think you’re imagining it.

But then—

“Hey!”

Arthur’s voice is ragged, raw like it’s been torn from his chest. You turn your head, barely, and there he is—boots kicking up dirt, reins dropped, eyes wild.

He falls to his knees in front of you. Grabs your face gently, cradling your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll shatter.

“What the hell happened?”

“Coyote,” you whisper, dazed. “Shoulder’s—bad. I—I can’t move it.”

His eyes scan your body, hands hovering over you without touching. You’ve never seen Arthur Morgan look scared before.

He looks scared now.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Damn it. I should’ve come with you.”

“I was fine,” you lie.

“No, you ain’t,” he snaps, but there’s no heat in it. Just fear. “We gotta get you back. I can’t do much for you out here.”

You nod, barely.

He slips an arm around your back, another under your knees, and lifts you like you weigh nothing. You cry out without meaning to—the movement lights your shoulder up like fire—and you fist your good hand in his coat, trying to breathe through the hurt.

Arthur presses his cheek against your hair. “I got you,” he murmurs. “I got you, sweetheart. You hold on now.”

Sweetheart. The word cuts through the pain like sunlight.

The trail blurs in your vision, pine trees and dark green, the scent of horses and earth. Arthur's coat is warm against your cheek.

“I thought you weren’t comin’,” you whisper at one point.

“I'll always come for you,” he says, and it sounds like a vow.

Back at camp, chaos stirs the moment you arrive. Miss Grimshaw demands space, but Arthur doesn’t budge. He carries you to your bedroll himself, eases you down with a gentleness you didn’t know he had in him.

Then he kneels. Takes out his knife. Cuts your torn shirt open at the shoulder and exposes the damage.

You look away. You hate how vulnerable you feel.

“Look at me,” he says quietly. “Ain’t nothin’ you need to be ashamed of.”

You do. His eyes are softer than they’ve ever been. Full of something aching and real.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warns. “Bad. But I need to set it before it swells worse.”

You grit your teeth. “Do it.”

He does. You scream. The pain is so deep and so bright you think you might pass out—but Arthur’s there, grounding you, you find yourself grabbing onto his vest, your forehead pressed to his collarbone.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just lets you hold on while the pain crests and fades.

“You good?” he asks after a minute, his voice low.

You nod, your face against his chest. “Yeah.”

His hand comes up resting carefully against the back of your head. “You scared me.”

You pull back enough to look at him. His eyes are storm-dark, gaze pinned to yours. There’s a vulnerability there you’ve never seen before—not from Arthur.

“I didn’t think anyone’d come lookin’ for me that fast,” you whisper.

“I always would,” he says simply. “You know that, right?”

Your chest aches in a different way now. Deep and warm and terrifying.

The air between you feels charged. Strange and thick, like the calm after a storm—or right before the next one breaks.

When it's over—when your shoulder is finally wrapped tight and the sweat cooling on your brow is wiped away with careful fingers — Arthur’s still crouched beside you with his hand lingering on your knee like he doesn’t want to pull back, and you’re still breathing heavy from the pain.

Your eyes meet his.

And neither of you looks away.

There’s something stretching taut in the silence. You feel it in the way his gaze drops to your mouth, in the way his thumb brushes the outside of your knee without him even seeming to realize he’s doing it. You feel it in your own chest, the way your breath hitches, the way your lips part just barely.

He leans in.

So slow. Like he’s afraid to spook you. Like he’s afraid to want.

And god, you want.

Your nose brushes his. His breath is warm and smells faintly of tobacco and pine. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw again, thumb resting just beneath your cheekbone. His eyes flicker—searching yours like he’s waiting for you to stop him.

You don’t.

He gets so close you can feel the heat of his mouth against yours, your lips nearly brushing.

And then, finally, his lips press to yours.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not rushed, either.

It’s desperate and quiet and full of everything he’s never said. His hand cups your jaw like you’re something precious, like touching you any harder might shatter you. And he kisses you like he’s drowning—like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world. You feel the tremble in him, the restraint in his shoulders, the way he’s holding himself back even now.

He pulls away just enough to breathe—but not far, never far, and then he kisses you again. Slower this time. Reverent. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of you, like some part of him knows he may never get another chance.

You gasp into his mouth. Your good hand fists in the front of his shirt, fingers twisted in the worn fabric like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

He lets you. Stays there, close and warm and real.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against yours, both of you breathe hard, chests rising and falling like you’ve just run for your lives.

Neither of you speaks.

The quiet between you hums, charged and heavy, every inch of space that used to exist now filled with something fragile and real.

“I thought I lost you,” he says, voice barely more than a breath. Like it costs him something to admit it out loud. Like it’s the most honest thing he’s said in years.

You press your palm to his chest, right over the thud of his heart.

“You didn’t,” you whisper. “You found me.”

His eyes flutter shut. His hand comes up and wraps around your wrist, holding it there. Holding you there. His grip isn’t tight, but there’s something desperate in it. Like if he lets go, you might slip through his fingers all over again.

Then—

“Arthur!”

Dutch's voice cuts through the night sharp and loud, calling him from across camp.

It shatters the moment like glass hitting stone.

Arthur blinks, flinching like someone slapped him. His head lifts. The air between you turns colder, thinner. His hand falls from your face, reluctant.

And just like that, it’s gone. The moment—the kiss—the closeness. Gone like smoke caught in a breeze.

He stands up too fast, like putting distance between you might dull the ache settling in his chest. He clears his throat, avoids your eyes. But then—

Then he pauses.

His gaze drops back to you.

And his hand reaches out one more time—soft, hesitant. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, slow and careful, like it’s the only thing he’s allowed to do. His fingers linger just a second too long against your cheek. Like he doesn’t want to let go.

“Get some rest, alright?” His voice is rough again. Lower. “I’ll bring you somethin’ warm to eat.”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

He turns and walks away, the weight of everything unsaid trailing behind him like a shadow.

And you’re left there, lips still tingling, heart aching, hand still curled over the echo of his heartbeat.

The spell breaks.

The moment dissolves like mist under morning sun.

But the feeling doesn’t.

It stays.

[shuaasumii]

“Teddy Bear”

“I would get you all the teddy bears in the world if I could”

pairing: dad!dk x mom!reader

genre: flufff, some angst

warnings: reader + dk’s toddler is quite mischievous

tags: dk is the cutest dad ever, dokyeom also down BAD for his wife and baby

summary: you and your husband finally decide that getting your daughter a teddy bear of her own would be a good idea.

a/n: tysm @issysh3ll for the adorable dividers !

After a long, exhausting day at work, you are overjoyed to be coming home to your husband and four year old, Sol. That joy is quickly washed away when you are welcomed home by sounds of distress, that you assume are coming from Sol. Concerned, you walk into the living room to find your crying daughter and a frustrated Dokyeom.

“What happened Solie?” You ask bringing her into your arms.

She looks up at you with tears still falling down her cheeks, the sight alone made your heart break, “Papa yelled at me.”

This confuses you, you know that your ball of sunshine of a husband could never do such a thing to his baby. It’s usually you in the relationship who tends to be disciplining Sol.

“That’s not true. I was telling her that what she did today at preschool was wrong,” Seokmin tries to justify himself.

“What did you do baby?” You ask sternly.

Sol was too afraid to answer your question, so your husband does for her, “she stole one of her classmate’s teddy bear.”

Shocked, you look down at your daughter, who’s too focused on playing with the buttons of your shirt to look back at you. “Baby why would you do that? You know stealing is wrong.”

“I ju-just wanted mama and papa to give me a teddy bear t-too,” she confesses in between sniffles.

This makes your heart break, you look at Dokyeom to see if he has the same reaction. You see him staring down at his baby in your lap with a look of sadness in his eyes. You and your husband never had to buy Sol toys, not because you thought she didn’t deserve them. But because she had 12 other uncles who spoiled her to bits. Though, maybe it was time to gift her toys of your own.

“Oh Solie, I would get you all the teddy bears in the world if I could,” Dokyeom leaned over to wipe the tears from her tiny face.

That night you tucked Sol into bed promising her that the next day, you would buy her as much teddy bears as her little heart desired.

The next morning, you and Seokmin woke up extra early so that you both could have enough time to get ready to go to the nearest toy store. Staying true to the promise you initiated with Sol the previous night, today you and your family of three were heading to the mall to get your daughter teddy bears of her own.

“Alright Solie, where are we going today?” Dokyeom asked, making eye contact with Sol in the rear view mirror.

“The toy store!” She giggled as she kicked her feet in excitement.

“That’s right baby, and what are we going to do there?” He said, backing out of the driveway.

“Buy a teddy!”

Tring, the little bell rang as Dokyeom pushed open the door, keeping it open so you and Sol could walk through. Such a gentleman, you thought. The store was the definition of cutesy, filled to the brim with kawaii stationary items and soft plushies. Sol immediately fell in love, she ran around like— well a kid in a toy store.

“Baby, don’t forget why we came here,” you told your daughter, who was still distracted by the amount of stuff on the shelves.

You and DK followed behind her as she found the plushie isle. There was dozens of teddy bears, one of every color in the rainbow. Despite the amount of colorful bears, Sol’s eyes fell on a simple one. It had the classic beige color and a pink bow wrapped around its neck.

She picked the the stuffed animal up, giving it a quick test hug, “I want this one daddy.”

A smile formed on your lover’s face. “Then that’s the one you’ll get,” he scooped up Sol, walking in the direction of the cash register.

You watched as your husband and daughter skipped hand in hand down the parking lot to your car. Though the skipping was quite awkward because of the obvious height difference.

Just as you both finished buckling the four year old into her car seat, she stopped you from leaving, “thank you mommy and daddy.” Sol smiled that big smile that mirrored her father’s exactly.

You felt like your heart was overfilling with love at the sight of your daughter happy. Seokmin as well stared at her with that look in his eyes that screamed she’s growing up too fast.

“You’re welcome Solie, you’re so welcome.”

[sylusslittlekitten]

30 Days of Sylus: Birthday Advent Calendar - Luke and Kieran Style

Hosted by ©Sylusslittlekitten - All rights reserved

Crack Post Masterlist here

Presented by Luke and Kieran

LUKE: Welcome to what may or may not be the most intense emotional hostage situation of the year—also known as Sylus’ Birthday Month.

KIERAN: That’s right. We don’t know when the man was born. Could be today. Could be tomorrow. Could’ve crawled out of an ancient crater. Who’s to say?

LUKE: So instead of not celebrating, like normal people, we decided to take the completely rational route and throw him a birthday... every single goddamn day.

KIERAN: You’re welcome.

LUKE: Some say it’s overkill. Some say it’s harassment.

KIERAN: He deserves to be celebrated. Loudly. Repeatedly. Until he admits which day it is. Or files a restraining order. Whichever comes first.

LUKE: From surprise parties to emotionally destabilising photo albums, we went all in—because subtlety is for people who don’t cry when Sylus says “thank you” under his breath.

KIERAN: Scroll down. Witness the madness. Pick your favourite day of mayhem. And remember:

LUKE: Every day could be Sylus’ birthday. KIERAN: But every day should be a reason to love him harder.

Day 1 - Cake in the Face

Kieran shouts “SURPRISE!” and absolutely obliterates Sylus with a strawberry sponge.

Sylus: “...You’re cleaning that.”

Luke: “It’s symbolic. Like rebirth. Through cake.”

Day 2 - “Pin the Knife on the Target” Party Game

Actual knives. Actual target. It’s Luke.

Kieran is crying with joy. Sylus is annoyingly accurate.

Luke: “I saw God, and she said ‘do it again.’”

Day 3 - Custom “Best Boss” Mug

It’s hideous. Glittery. Spells “Slay Boss” on the back.

Sylus drinks from it every morning now.

Kieran faints from pride.

Day 4 - Choreographed Dance Battle

Kieran in sequins. Luke is wearing cargo pants and shame.

Music: "Toxic" by Britney Spears.

Sylus walks away. They follow him. Still dancing.

Day 5 - Themed Breakfast: “You’re My Favourite Mistake”

Black coffee. Toast burned into the shape of a gun.

Eggs scrambled like their emotional state.

Kieran made pancakes shaped like Sylus’ face. They’re terrifying.

Day 6 - A Dramatic Reading of His Texts

Luke performs it in Shakespearean dialect.

Kieran plays a violin out of tune.

Sylus: “If I murder you, is that still birthday behaviour?”

Day 7 - Surprise Parade

Three bystanders. One stolen marching drum.

Banner reads: “Happy Maybe-Born Day, Our Brooding Boss”

Sylus vanishes mid-parade. Leaves behind confetti and contempt.

Day 8 - Hot Springs Trip

Kieran books the whole place. Luke forgets towels.

Sylus sulks in the water but secretly enjoys the quiet.

Kieran wears a crown made of loofahs. No one asks why.

Day 9 - 10-Minute Therapy Session with a Goat

Kieran swears animals are healing.

Goat headbutts Luke. Kieran cheers.

Sylus feeds it quietly for 20 minutes.

Day 10 - Airhorn Wake-Up Call

At 10pm.

Luke records Sylus' scream. Makes it his ringtone.

Kieran bakes an apology pie shaped like a crow.

Day 11 - DIY Spa Night

Sylus gets cucumber eye masks and absolutely nothing else.

Luke nearly burns down the bathroom with scented candles.

Kieran offers a massage. Sylus threatens dismissal.

Day 12 - “Dress Like Sylus” Day

Luke wears all black. Kieran wears less and claims it’s accurate.

They follow him whispering, “Brooding is power.”

Sylus vanishes. Again.

Day 13 - Personalised Gun Range Session

Targets: Luke’s face.

Kieran writes “Emotions” on a target.

Sylus shoots it clean through.

Emotional breakthrough? Maybe. Everyone cries anyway.

Day 14 - Emotional Support Plushie Gifted

It’s a tiny plush dragon holding a dagger.

Luke: “It’s you, but huggable.”

Sylus: sleeps with it tucked under his arm. Never mentions it again.

Day 15 - Birthday Lullaby, Screamed

Kieran sings. Luke plays backup on a kazoo.

Neighbours file a noise complaint. Sylus bribes them to let it continue.

Day 16 - Mystery Box Day

Every hour, a new box. Could be a trinket. Could be a live crab.

Sylus opens 16 before he gives up. Luke opens the rest.

The 18th contains coffee. Sylus smiles.

Day 17 - Midnight Confessions

Luke: “You intimidate me but also I’d die for you.”

Kieran: “You’re not hard to love, Sylus. You’re just scared.”

Sylus: doesn’t speak for five minutes. Then says, “Thanks.”

Day 18 - Dragon-Themed Birthday Ball

Kieran wears wings. Luke is shirtless with red glitter.

Sylus is dragged in wearing a red, velvet suit and quiet rage.

He dances with them anyway. No one brings it up again.

Day 19 - “Things You Never Say But We Know Anyway” List

53 entries.

“You check on us even when you say you won’t.”

“You love deeply. That’s why you stay distant.”

Sylus reads the whole thing in silence. Folds it. Keeps it.

Day 20 - Mock Trial: Is Sylus Capable of Love?

Luke plays prosecution. Kieran defends.

Jury is plushies and Mephisto.

Verdict: Absolutely, tragically yes.

Day 21 - "Unsolicited Compliments Hour"

Every 5 minutes.

Kieran with a megaphone: “Your eyes look like murder. I’d die in them.”

Sylus: “I will break that megaphone.”

Kieran: “So strong. So alpha.”

Day 22 - Custom Fragrance: “Gunpowder & Longing”

Actually smells so good.

Sylus wears it. Kieran notices. Writes fanfic about it.

Luke sells bootleg versions.

Day 23 - Build-a-Weapon Workshop

Kieran bedazzles his. Luke chooses an axe.

Sylus forges a blade in silence.

It glows. Everyone agrees not to ask why.

Day 24 - Silent Movie Night: “The Tragedy of a Man Who Feels Too Much”

They reenact it live.

Sylus is portrayed by a potted plant with a stern expression.

He claps once. That’s the highest praise they’ve EVER received.

Day 25 - Spontaneous Hug Ambushes

Kieran tackles. Luke distracts.

Sylus fights them off to start.

After the 35th one, he reluctantly accepts every single one but growls during.

At the end of the day, he initiates one.

Day 26 - “Interview With the Birthday Boy”

Questions include: “Do you think you're loveable?”

Sylus: “No.”

Kieran: “Wrong. You lose. Try again.”

Day 27 - Late Night Drive to Nowhere

No plan. Just music, stars, and long silences that mean everything.

Kieran falls asleep on Sylus’ shoulder.

Luke drives. Sylus doesn't move an inch.

Day 28 - Surprise Photo Album

Polaroids. Stolen moments. Smiles he never knew he made.

One of him asleep with the new plushie.

Caption: "Proof: He does rest."

Day 29 - Night Under the Stars

They lay on a rooftop.

Luke points out fake constellations. Kieran holds Sylus’ hand.

“We don’t need to know the date,” he says. “You were born. That’s enough.”

It's awkward.

Day 30 - No surprises. Just peace.

No glitter. No screams. Just coffee.

Sylus wakes up to a quiet room.

A note: “You are loved. Even when we’re quiet about it.”

He doesn’t throw it away. Sticks it to the fridge in the armoury.

Hosted by ©Sylusslittlekitten - All rights reserved

Crack Post Masterlist here

[gweelczz]

“A weight lifted”

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore x Reader (Honey)

Genre: angst, hurt and comfort, happy ending

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N finally breaks through Smoke’s walls

The rain hit the tin roof in heavy sheets, a steady drumming that filled the little house with the sound of a restless heart. Smoke sat at the kitchen table, sharpening his knife slow and steady, the old blade whispering across the whetstone. His broad shoulders were hunched, jaw locked tight, face shadowed under the low flicker of the oil lamp.

Honey watched him from across the room, her heart breaking a little more with every scrape of that blade.

He’d been like this for days — colder, quieter, like a storm building behind his ribs. She knew what it meant. Trouble was coming. Smoke always felt it before anybody else.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, barely beginning to swell, and took a breath so deep it hurt.

“Elijah,” she said, soft but firm.

His hand stilled, but he didn’t look up.

“You hear me talkin’ to you.”

Slowly, he set the blade down, still not meeting her eyes.

Honey crossed the room, every step heavy with the weight of what she had to say.

“I can’t do this no more,” she said, voice trembling. “I can’t keep watchin’ you carry all this hurt inside and pretend like it don’t tear me apart.”

Smoke’s jaw clenched tighter. His hands — strong enough to break a man in two — balled into fists on the table.

“You don’t understand, Honey,” he muttered.

She knelt beside him, hands wrapping around his fists, feeling the tension thrumming under his skin.

“Then make me understand,” she pleaded. “I’m your wife, Elijah. Your woman. Ain’t no part of you too dark for me to love.”

Finally, he looked at her — really looked at her — and it was like looking into the eye of a fire about to burn itself out.

Tears welled up in Honey’s eyes, but she held them back. She needed him to see her strong.

“I’m carryin’ your child,” she whispered.

Smoke flinched like she’d struck him.

She pressed his hand to her belly, over the tiny life growing inside her.

“I can’t raise no baby with a man who’s halfway here and halfway in the grave already,” she said. “I need you whole, Elijah. I need you here. Not just your body, but your soul too.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

And then something in him cracked.

A sound tore from his chest — not a sob, not a cry — but a low, broken thing, like a wounded animal too proud to scream.

He pulled her into his lap, burying his face in the crook of her neck, arms wrapped around her so tight it almost hurt. His body shook against hers — years of rage, fear, guilt, all pouring out at once.

“I ain’t never been nothin’ but broken, Honey,” he choked out. “Ain’t never been no good for nobody. All I know how to do is fight… hurt… kill.”

“You know how to love,” she said, running her fingers through his coils, soft and slow. “You love me better than anybody ever could.”

He held her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice raw. “Scared I’m gon’ turn into my daddy… scared I ain’t gon’ live long enough to see my child’s face.”

Honey kissed the top of his head, rocking him like he was the one needing saving now.

“You ain’t your daddy,” she said fiercely. “You a good man, Elijah Moore. You hear me? You a good man. And you gon’ live long enough to teach our baby how to be good too.”

He pulled back, cupping her face in his rough hands, staring at her like she was the only pure thing left in the world.

“You my heart,” he whispered. “Ain’t nothin’ in this world mean more to me than you.”

“And you mine,” she said, tears finally spilling over. “So don’t you ever shut me out again. Not now. Not ever.”

He kissed her then — hard, desperate, like a man drowning pulling in his first breath of air.

Outside, the rain kept falling, but inside that little house, something new was being born — not just a child, but a hope Smoke never thought he deserved.

For the first time in his life, Elijah “Smoke” Moore wasn’t running from the fire.

He was walking straight through it — hand in hand with the woman who had always seen the man behind the smoke.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan and fluffy things I like to imagine with him. Part 2: electric boogaloo

logan has a soft spot for animals. He wont go absolutely out of his way i think to interact with them, but definitely has a mutual respect for them.

that being said, going for a walk with Logan, and a stray kitten comes up and absolutely WILL NOT leave logan alone. It adores him, screaming and climbing his pants. You of course insist on taking it home and logan grumbles over it but doesnt argue

cue all the moments of "dad who didnt want animal in first place" with logan as he treats it like his literally baby. Its young and still needs milk, and lots of tlc.

you wake up to him missing from bed one night, crawling out in search of him and finding him in the kitchen- babytalking and cooing the little itty bity baby kitten hes holding in his arm (imagine. Tiny kitten. Logans beefy arms. 😍) and bottle feeding it.

he gets so embarrassed when you catch him.

making him laugh. Like really. He's so stoic sometimes. hes sarcastic and has a smart mouth and really funny himself but not much gets him going

but you tell him a joke . or maybe a funny story of something that happened to you, or a funny limerick whatever okay

and he LAUGHS

its the first time you ever heard him laugh, probably the first time you ever made him laugh that wasn't a small chuckle (say you're still new to each other)

His laugh is just so warm and boisterous. It's a real peek into the kind of person Logan can be if he's in the right enviornment

that big cute smile, his low voice. that loud laugh. I mean honestly

making him laugh so hard he's crying and its uncontrollable

thats right baby girl

anyway

Logan loves listening to your heartbeat

lies on your chest and listens to it beat away. it's grounding to him, a reminder you're still here with him

Either with the X-men, or with Wades gang, Logan slowly opening up and becoming more comfortable with people- purely because YOU'RE there.

your presence reassures him so much

feeding each other

its natural too. You're just at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. you take a fork of your food, or maybe your french fries, or whatever and immediately hold it up to his mouth and he just eats it without question

Feeding him fruits, or chocolates, or a charcuterie spread AH *sigh*

Leading to having a picnic with him. He's a little unsure at first. I think depending on the logan you're picturing, or at least when you meet him, he may have points where he gets shy about dates and stuff

a picnic is one of those things. planning food and a blanket and all and it really does sound nice to him. Too nice. It feels unnatural to him and he doesn't know how to behave, maybe he doesn't think he deserves to do something so...domestic, and soft

you of course argue that "yes logan, you deserve to do picnics too."

Once you actually get him out though, he'll eventually relax, lying on the blanket, on a nice breezy yet sunny day under a large tree, arms crossed behind his head as you feed him grapes and strawberries and blueberries

"Yeah, okay, I could get use to this"

planning other dates with logan. for awhile it's something you take initiative of. But then Logan surprises you. He got you tickets to see a broadway show you've been talking about for months.

since then logan starts pulling his weight with planning dates. he always enjoyed the dates esp in the beginning. he just wasn't used to it, used to meaninglyess flings and lonelines. Sitting and trying to get to know each other was hard for logan bc he struggled opening up

for you tho he does

in a setting with the x-men, they all are amazed how easily logan trusts you. Even as just friends.

you do whatever to him and he just accepts it. He doesn't flinch. or scoff. or tell you to fuck off (sorry Scott. i know you were just asking for the salt). He'll give you his witty and sarcastic remarks but they tend to be a lot nicer and sweeter

he looks at you with a softness they're all confused by

well except jean and charles, they both see what's going on in his head. it's sweet actually

ororo actually picks up on it pretty quickly too

Scotts the one who's just confused but prob bc he gets the most abuse

sorry again scott

okay, not really a logan fluff relationship but honestly logan and scott becoming semi friends? I feel like hard feelings and annoyances aside, they could really get along. I don't know much about Scotts character but i feel like they're both men who can be great leaders and genuinely care about their people. Logan and Scott putting aside differences and going out for a guys night at a bar. Maybe some other X-men join to, but Scott and Logan talk a lot

Meanwhile you, Jean, Ororo, and a few other girls have a girls night

Logan opening up to Scott about how he feels about you (you're still friends at this point), he doesn't outright say that he's scared to make a move, mainly because he's scared of hurting you in more ways than one

Scott gives him a pep talk, male bonding. of course they end the night insulting each other but on the bright note they seem to come to an understanding

Logan is a very attentive boyfriend. He may act aloof sometimes but he notices EVERYTHING. Don't be surprised that your birthday and christmas gifts are always exactly the things you wanted even if you hadn't told anyone you wanted them.

You're teaching a class and logan stops by to give you something. He gives you a kiss in front of the class without thinking, and they're all "Oooooo"ing and "Aaaw"ing over it. Logan tells them to grow up, (They're 5th graders logan)

imagine shopping together, and logan picks out clothes he thinks would be cute on you. He finds a pretty sundress and practically demands you to get it. Of course you do. He ADORES you in that sundress. His hands are never off you when you wear it

It awakens something in him and he starts buying you pretty clothes he wants to see you in. He knows your size by heart, he knows what materials you like and what you hate, and the colors you despise on you (even tho he thinks you look good in everything)

Kissing each space of his hands where the claws come out. It's a gesture of love and trust. Logans scared of you doing it, afraid he'd somehow lose control but you reassure him. Now he loves it, and it truly makes him think that maybe he isn't such a monster if you could love him like that

You do his laundry for him. It's not like he asked you or that he doesn't keep the laundry up himself, you just do it, acts of service being your love language and he comes home and finds you did it and hes kinda shook because like...wow? being taken care of? it was so simply. its just laundry. But damn

Speaking of, doing laundry together.

I want to do laundry with Worst! Logan, we go to some 24 hour laundromat. maybe just neighbors but you've been flirting with each other, and consider each other good friends, the implication of something more. You're laughing and you guys have the place to yourselves. Logan feels safer than he has in a long time with you. Maybe share your first kiss, at 1 am in the laundromat.

I like to think about late nights in your study with Trilogy Logan, he hangs out with you, he already has trouble sleeping, and just loves your sweet company. Your conversations turn deep, maybe you had a recent mission that turned rough, and it literally turns into a love confession by Logan. You return the feelings, and he asks "Are you sure about me?", and you respond to him with an eager kiss, your arms embracing each other in the way those old romantic movies when they kiss (I use to be so grossed out by those and now I would love nothing more *dreamy sigh*)

I want to comfort Old Man Logan, maybe he had a really bad day, and disappears. You get Caliban to watch Charles for the night while you search for him, and you find him at a bar he usually frequents. Hes gruff but polite and tells you to go home and go to bed, but you urge him to come back with you. Eventually you get him to agree to at least come walk with you down the streets. He doesn't know how, but you draw out of him his worries, his fears - and they mainly revolve around you, this sweet little thing who came into this fucked up life of his. You reassure him that you wouldn't want to be anywhere else, and you end up kissing him. He's shocked you like an old man like him, but...he'll take what he can get.

I want to be 70s DOFP Logan friend first, hes a menace, and he has fallen hopelessly in love with you. Much to your obliviousness, you think he's still a Casanova out in the bars- but hes spending his nights thinking about you. One night he has enough, and rides on his motorcycle down in the pouring rain and thunderstorm. He's at your doorstep and you open the door to this sopping wet creature and the first thing he says "I'm in love with you." with water dripping down his face. Then he pulls you into a searing kiss. (im writing a fic about this btw)

With Future DOFP Logan, he would meet you, a new professor at the school, and he's quickly taken aback. After some quite hellish adventures he's been on, you were a fresh breath of air for him. You both fall into something of relationship without realizing it- because it came so naturally. It's only one day you're talking to him, outside on the patio and he's smiling softly listening to you and he leans forward and pecks you on the lips. you look at him in surprise, before grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a real kiss

Origins! Logan takes you out on a romantic date, because he's classy like that. you share your first kiss over dinner, something sweet, and you could feel him smiling against your lips. He does it again after dinner, when he takes you home like a gentleman, you can feel his eagerness when he kisses you again, like he's trying to control himself, and he finally pulls away and wishes you goodnight (i mean, you're gonna have to invite him in)

97' Logan! He's giving you a pep talk after some bad shit went down on a mission, you feel like you could've done better, could've done more, even if everything you did do was enough. He's being unusually sweet and supportive and you leaned over and kissed him. You're surprised at yourself, but Logan isn't. He chuckles, telling you he gets it, he's irresistable, but then he kisses you again and can't stop (whos the irresistable one NOW Logan??)

I didn't mean for those to turn into first kisses prompts but enjoy. I have so many ideas of how first kisses with logan could go, these are just a few of many

pecking his cheek and his beard scratching your lips, but you actually really like how it feels

him rubbing and scratching his beard all over you to mess with you. It tickles but he's pinning you down and you're shrieking.

He keeps a picture of you on him at all times.

he loves hearing your stories. he wants to listen to you yap. he loves when you yap. even if it's useless stuff, the way you seem to enjoy and live life the way he never had before, he just can't get enough

helping him with his suit, you're zipping him up, but you press several kisses up his spine as you are zipping him. your lips sends shivers through him

helping him with a fancy suit. like suit and tie, (this would be cute for old man logan!). he's grumping and frumping about wearing it, but then you tell him how handsome he looks, and he smiles, and suddenly he's not so grumpy about it.

logan pressing soft kisses all over your face. bonus if it's after he hadn't seen you for awhile

okay but imagine after yall been together for awhile, maybe talking about getting a house together...

you guys "just look"

logan doesn't like anything. So he convinces charles to give him some land and goes and secretly builds a house for you. he recruits help from some others. he hires a designer to be able to get the parts he noticed you liked

you have NO idea. A year later, maybe 2, he brings you to it, and you're like "When did this house get here" and he tells you everything

logan definitely doesn't think things are "too much" when it comes to his devotion to you lets just say.

These are all i got for now! Keep an eye out for pt 3 :)

[megumismyhusband]

phantom busters boys x bday reader

mogari:

ren helps him plan everything weeks in advance. he makes spreadsheets. mogari texts ren at 2am like “what flavor did we pick again???”

mogari wants everything to be a surprise. he says he’s got it under control, but the moment you so much as hint at your birthday, he starts telling you all his plans for it

ren gave him a script to stick to when he picks up your birthday cake but he still ends up panicking and asking the cashier “is this a good cake? like. for someone really really important?” and then he proceeds to explain your entire relationship to them

mogari wraps your gift himself. it’s a little lopsided and there’s way too much tape but he’s soproud of it. when you open it he watches your reaction like it’s a life-or-death situation

he ends the day with a quiet little “happy birthday. you deserve good things every day, but especially today.” and his voice cracks just a little when he says it

kaoru:

kaoru acts cool about it all week but he’s secretly been planning your birthday for a while. like… months.

for your birthday, kaoru makes you keychains of things he knows you find cute. your favorite character, a small animal, a smiling star. he says it’s nothing special but he spent a lot of time on them.

your main gift is probably something you mentioned once, maybe a book you wanted, a cute stuffed animal, or something weirdly specific like a rare pen. he pretends it was no big deal to find, but he spent hours tracking it down.

he gives you a little stack of manga to borrow, either his favorites, or ones he thinks you’ll like. each one probably has sticky notes inside with little commentary like “this guy reminds me of me (whatever you say, buddy)” or “you’ll cry here. call me when you do.”

his sister 100% helped him with the wrapping and probably picked out the nicer stationery. she told him to write you a card, and he grumbled but ended up writing something really sweet with barely any sarcasm. you can tell she read it first because there’s a tiny heart sticker on the envelope that he definitely didn’t put there.

kotaro:

he would make you a whole playlist with songs that remind him of you

he’d write a note for each song explaining why he picked it and fold them up into tiny hearts

he’d try to bake you a cake even though he’s never baked anything before (it turns out a little lopsided but he’s so proud of it) he’d also get up extra early just to be the first one to tell you happy birthday in person

he’d learn how to sing happy birthday in at least three different languages and dramatically perform each version like it’s a concert

he’d most likely write you a song but gets too shy to sing it, he ends up playing it for you once and hides his face the whole time

eugene:

keeps a small notebook where he writes down things you like. checks it before your birthday to make sure he gets everything right.

gives you a flower bouquet he made himself (it’s very pretty)

makes you breakfast. it’s simple, but you can tell he tried really hard.

gives you a small gift, like a necklace or a ring.

doesn’t plan anything big. just wants the day to feel peaceful and full of moments you’ll always remember.

[sturniololuvz]

i would love a fic where 4 year old sister looses her favorite stuffed animal named “taggy” and she goes to the triplets crying and asking her to help her find it. they end up finding it the next morning so they have to try to get her to sleep without it aswell

awww, yesss

“The Case of the Missing Taggy”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : crying

It was almost bedtime when Y/N burst into the triplets’ room, tears already welling in her big, round eyes.

“GUYS!” she sobbed, gripping onto Chris’s shirt like her life depended on it.

Chris, who had been lying on his bed scrolling through his phone, immediately sat up. “Whoa—what’s wrong, bug?”

Nick and Matt turned from their own spots, concerned.

“Taggy’s gone!” Y/N wailed, her little voice cracking.

The room went silent.

Nick blinked. “Wait. The Taggy? Your stuffed bunny?”

Y/N nodded frantically, rubbing her eyes. “I can’t find him anywhere! I checked my room and the couch and the kitchen and—” She hiccupped. “—and I think he’s GONE FOREVER!”

Chris shot up. “Okay, okay, first of all—don’t say that.”

Matt was already standing. “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, search party time. Let’s go.”

For the next hour, the boys turned the entire house upside down. They checked under beds, inside cabinets, even in the fridge (because, let’s be honest, Y/N had a history of putting things in weird places).

But Taggy was nowhere to be found.

After their third sweep of the living room, Nick groaned. “Alright, I hate to say it, but I think we need to call it a night.”

Y/N gasped, looking up at him in horror. “But—but I can’t sleep without Taggy!”

Chris crouched in front of her, holding her tiny hands in his. “I know, bug, but it’s really late. I promise we’ll look again first thing in the morning, okay?”

Her lower lip trembled. “But what if he’s scared all alone?”

Matt, being the problem-solver, quickly picked up one of his own pillows and handed it to her. “Here. You can borrow this guy for the night.”

Y/N sniffled. “What’s his name?”

Matt panicked. “Uh… Pilly?”

Chris snorted. “Pilly? Dude, really?”

Y/N giggled just a little, hugging the pillow to her chest. “Okay… but only for tonight.”

The next morning, the triplets were determined.

Chris was the one who found it. “GUYS, I GOT HIM!”

He came running into the kitchen, Taggy in hand, looking victorious.

Y/N gasped dramatically. “TAGGY!”

She practically launched herself at Chris, snatching her stuffed bunny and hugging it tight. “Where was he?!”

Chris grinned. “In the laundry room! Guess someone threw him in the basket by accident.”

Nick sighed in relief. “Crisis averted.”

Matt ruffled Y/N’s hair. “You happy now, bug?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “The happiest!”

Then she turned to Matt, holding out the pillow. “Here, you can have Pilly back now.”

Chris smirked. “You sure? You and Pilly got kinda close last night.”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “Nope! Taggy’s my bestest friend.”

The boys shared a look, all secretly relieved that their little sister was smiling again.

Nick wrapped an arm around her. “Alright, come on, let’s get some breakfast. I think we all deserve pancakes after last night.”

Y/N gasped. “With chocolate chips?!”

Matt laughed. “With extra chocolate chips.”

And just like that, all was right in the world again.

[gravebirds0dmnk]

MY RANT ABOUT

Damian Wayne!!!

(part 1)

Let’s talk about Damian Wayne, the biological son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, grandson to Ra’s al Ghul, a kid who was raised by the League of Assassins and then abruptly dropped into Gotham like a pint-sized wrecking ball. Damian didn’t just walk into the Bat-Family -he kicked down the door, insulted everyone in the room, and declared himself the best Robin before anyone could finish their coffee.

And that’s the thing: he’s not wrong. But we’ll get to that.

People love to hate Damian Wayne. He’s “arrogant,” “rude,” “violent,” “disrespectful.”

Yes - that’s the entire point. Damian is a walking nature-vs-nurture experiment gone rogue. Imagine being raised in a world where killing is standard operating procedure, then being told, "Hey, kid, here’s your dad, the most morally rigid vigilante in existence. No more murder. Also, you're twelve. Try fitting in with these older siblings who all had tragic childhoods and came out emotionally repressed instead of homicidal."

What did anyone expect? Of course Damian was going to be a tiny terror. That’s how he was built.

But people don’t seem to want to let him grow past that. That’s where the real problem lies. They see the early "I’m better than you because I was trained by the League" Damian and freeze-frame him there forever. They ignore the development, the pain, the earnest effort to be more than what he was made to be.

Damian Wayne is a twelve-year-old with the weight of two legacies crushing him. On one side: the Bat - justice, discipline, self-sacrifice. On the other: the Demon - power, domination, control. He didn’t ask for this life. He didn’t get to grow up on movie nights and pizza with Alfred. He was built in a lab of expectations and blood. And then he was dropped into a family that didn’t trust him, because they had no reason to. Imagine how isolating that is.

But despite all of it - the trauma, the conditioning, the sheer amount of emotional dysfunction - he tries. Damian genuinely tries to be better. He goes from "I’ll kill criminals because it’s efficient" to "I can be a hero, and not just my father’s shadow."

He bonds with Dick Grayson in one of the best Batman & Robin runs ever,

he grows as a leader in the Teen Titans, and he earns his place - not because he’s Bruce’s son, but because he fights for it.

And yet, the fandom still treats him like the bad seed. The brat. The mistake.

Let’s talk about that word - “brat.” People throw it around because Damian has an ego, but when Tim acts like a smug genius, or Jason has a chip on his shoulder, or Dick gets a little high and mighty, they’re “complicated.” Damian is branded irredeemable. Why? Because he’s loud about his trauma? Because he doesn't bottle it up in classic Bat-fashion?

People hate that Damian says he’s the best but if you’d been trained since birth to be a perfect weapon and you actually could beat 90% of people in the room, wouldn’t you be a little confident too? Let’s be real Damian could drop someone twice his size and not break a sweat, but he also loves animals, paints, and had a freaking pet cow named Bat-Cow. He’s weird, intense, and has more depth than half of Gotham’s rogues gallery combined.

He doesn’t just represent “what if Batman had a biological son.” He’s the embodiment of legacy, destiny, and defiance. He’s the kid who was told what to be, and chose something else.

So yes, Damian Wayne is difficult. Yes, he’s abrasive. But so was every other Robin when they were introduced. The difference is, we gave them the space to grow. Damian deserves that too.

Let the boy grow. Let him mess up and learn and try again. He’s twelve, for crying out loud. He’s not the brat people make him out to be. He’s a survivor. A fighter. A Wayne.

And frankly? He’s the most interesting damn Robin we’ve had in decades, as much as he's hailed as the heir to both the Bat and the Demon, sometimes he feels more like the heir to chaotic writing decisions and wasted potential.

the fucking clones.

What is it with the League of Assassins and clone factories? Damian's backstory already sounds like a rejected Metal Gear Solid plot. First, we get The Heretic - a beefed-up adult clone of Damian who kills him (yes, kills the 10-year-old version of him)

, and then has the nerve to try and be a “better” version of him by being even more of a brainwashed sociopath. let’s not forget the literal clone army of failed Damian duplicates from Super Sons and Robin: Son of Batman.

These storylines could be tragic and poignant if they weren’t treated like edgelord spice tossed in whenever a writer wants to remind us that Damian's life is "dark and twisted" (as if we could forget). The clone arcs are often just shorthand for “Damian has trauma” without doing the actual emotional work.

why do SOME writers write him as a dumbfuck?

Sometimes Damian is portrayed as a tactical genius who speaks 14 languages and can outthink Ra’s al Ghul before breakfast. Other times, he's a literal moron who charges into a trap that Tim Drake would've spotted from a mile away while blindfolded. You can't have it both ways. He’s either a child prodigy or he’s an impulsive brat. And the thing is - he can be both, if written well. But often, writers just swing between extremes: “arrogant genius” one day, “idiot in a cape” the next.

his bitch ass adopted siblings.

Damian’s relationships with his siblings are the most fascinating and most abused part of his character. His bond with Dick Grayson? Absolute gold - when done right. Dick is the only one who treated him like a kid and a brother instead of a problem to be managed. But let’s look at the others:

Tim Drake: The rivalry with Tim is valid. Damian sees Tim as the Robin he needs to replace to be accepted. But writers constantly reduce it to petty hatred when there’s so much deeper story potential. Damian has insecurity around Tim because Tim was Robin by choice, not birth. That eats at him. But instead of nuance, we get “Damian calls Tim names and tries to stab him (again).”

Jason Todd: This relationship should be compelling! They're both violent, emotionally stunted products of trauma with a “screw Batman” streak. But writers barely touch it or just make them snarky and antagonistic, wasting the gold mine of storytelling there.

Cass and Steph? You’d think Damian would admire Cass’s skill or at least respect Steph’s audacity, but nah — they’re often relegated to cameos, if that. Missed opportunity. Always.

Forced love interests.

Damian Wayne is twelve to fourteen years old in most of his appearances. And yet we’ve had writers try to force teenage romance arcs with Emiko Queen, Djinn from Teen Titans, and even hinted stuff with Maps Mizoguchi. And it’s always awkward.

Look, Damian is emotionally stunted. He doesn’t even know how to have friends, let alone romantic relationships. These “love” arcs feel like writers trying to shove him into the typical young-hero mold — except Damian isn’t normal. He doesn’t need a love interest right now. He needs therapy, a stable environment, and a break from being written like a tiny James Bond with a sword.

Who even is he atp?

Damian is one of the most inconsistently written characters in modern DC comics. Is he;

A cold-blooded killer trying to reform?

A snarky, self-loathing child prodigy?

A guilt-ridden heir trying to live up to his father’s shadow?

A Teen Titans leader who makes ethically horrifying decisions?

Or a comedic, adorable little brother in Super Sons?

The answer is: all of them, depending on the writer, the phase of the moon, and whether or not DC remembered that continuity exists. There's no solid foundation anymore. He goes from helping animals and crying over Alfred’s death to creating prisons for criminals before they commit crimes (yes, that was real). Like… pick a lane.

IN CONCLUSION:

Damian Wayne is a character bursting with potential, yet often written as a caricature of himself - either the hyper-violent League assassin or the snarky “baby genius” with no emotional depth. And it's a shame, because when he's written with actual care, he's one of the most interesting, vulnerable, human characters DC has. But too often, he's just a plot device, a lightning rod for conflict, or worse — a symbol of edgy storytelling with none of the payoff.

The clones, the weird romances, the uneven sibling dynamics — all of it could be compelling, if they stopped treating Damian like a ticking time bomb and started treating him like the child he still is, who never got the chance to just be a kid.

And maybe , just maybe , let him grow instead of rebooting him back to the same arrogant starting point every other year.

Listen. I didn’t think DC had the guts to give Damian Wayne a real love interest that made sense, but they actually nailed it with Flatline.

Flatline (aka Nika) is a Russian teenage reaper girl, trained by Lord Death Man, who literally kills Damian in their first interaction at the Lazarus Tournament. That’s right - the first time they meet, she rips his heart out.

A classic Bat-romance if there ever was one.

But here’s the thing: their dynamic works because for once, Damian is in a relationship with someone who is like him. Nika isn’t a civilian. She’s not a princess-in-a-tower type. She’s deadly, clever, morbidly funny, and has her own trauma stew to simmer in. She understands what it means to be trained to kill, what it’s like to live in the shadow of a master manipulator, and - this is important - she doesn’t judge Damian for who he was.

They flirt, they fight, and they have actual chemistry. And even more importantly: Nika sees Damian’s potential. She likes that he’s trying to become better. She doesn’t infantilize him, doesn’t try to “fix” him, and absolutely calls him out when he’s being dramatic (which he always is).

They’re goth murder babies in love. It's adorable. It’s deadly. It’s surprisingly tender.

Also: the fact that Damian openly blushed when she flirted with him?? After years of acting like a cold-blooded monk?? That was character growth, baby. Let him be a teenager. Let him have weird assassin girlfriends who wear skull makeup and call him out on his nonsense.

That relationship gave him depth. Vulnerability. Normality, in the most abnormal way possible.

The cursed ship. Damij*n

Now we pivot — HARD — into the chaotic, emotionally devastating, soul-bonded bros or maybe soulmates?? ship that is DamiJon (Damian Wayne x Jon Kent).

Let’s be real: Super Sons was lightning in a bottle. Damian and Jon had instant chemistry, not just as teammates but as characters that completed each other. The edgy, bitter, emotionally repressed assassin kid and the sunshine-filled, awkward, farm boy alien. It’s Batman and Superman, but in middle school. And it worked.

Jon brought out Damian’s humanity. Kinda.

Damian helped Jon grow a spine.

They bantered like siblings but supported each other like best friends.

Their road trip in Super Sons of Tomorrow? ICONIC.

Their team name was "The Super Sons." Like. Come on.

Now. The DamiJon ship could have stayed platonic - and for many people, it does. That’s valid. But for a huge part of the fandom, something clicked: this was Damian’s most emotionally honest relationship. He let his walls down around Jon in a way he didn’t even do with Dick or Bruce.

And then... DC aged Jon up, yeeted him into space, and basically nuked the best dynamic they had in years.

Instead of letting this amazing slow-burn grow into a genuine teenage relationship -or even just a long-term partnership -they forced them apart. Damian went full “brooding alone in the rain,” and Jon? Jon got stuck with awkward adult Superman stories and none of the vulnerability that made him great. I guess.

So the fandom stepped in.

DamiJon fanfiction took over. Why? Because people recognized the undeniable emotional gravity between these two. The way Jon looked at Damian like he mattered. The way Damian saw Jon as a safe place to be a kid. And yeah -whether you ship it romantically or just as friendship - they were each other’s person. A little.

And DC fumbled it.

Badly.

DAMIAN’S LOVE LIFE: WHERE ARE WE NOW?

Flatline: The only canon love interest that actually feels earned and meaningful. The kind of person Damian can have a messy, weird, supportive relationship with. I will go down with that ship.

DamiJon: The emotional bond that broke the internet. A tragic will-they-won’t-they that got derailed by editorial nonsense, but lives on stronger in fan works than most canon DC couples.

Other Attempts (looking at you, Djinn/Emiko): Forced. Rushed. Hollow. No emotional core. Just there to check a box that “Damian has hormones. ”

Damian Wayne, rebellious and guilt-ridden post-Alfred's death, runs off to an island death tournament to punch through his trauma and maybe actually die. Sounds metal, right?

And yeah, on paper? This arc should have slapped.

A secret tournament of assassins?

Damian coping with grief and purpose?

Internal conflict about his mother, his father's legacy, and his own morality?

Literal Lazarus pits boiling under the surface?

Peak edgy teen drama.

Great setup for character growth.

A sleek excuse to throw in new and old assassins, monsters, and obscure DC weirdos.

But the execution?

Wobbly. Rushed. Confused. Repetitive.

DC fumbled it like it was the final Lazarus Pit and they spilled it in a sewer.

Rules are like a video game

Let’s talk about the structure of this whole thing.

You get three lives.

You can die.

You get revived by Lazarus magic.

If you die more than three times, you're out.

But also maybe not because some people still showed up after that?

Uhhh. Okay.

So basically: it’s Mortal Kombat with extra chances.

Except the stakes feel fake, because death is temporary and everyone knows it. So we lose the tension, and instead we just get shock value kills that go, “Oh no! Damian died-wait, nvm, he’s back.”

And then... they just let actual children participate in this deathmatch?

No one — not even Bruce, the most paranoid helicopter parent alive — thought maybe “assassin death island” needed to be shut down?

Character arc is great but..?

Damian Wayne deserved this arc. After City of Bane and Alfred’s death, he needed a storyline that let him explore guilt, identity, shame, and grief. And for a while, it looked like that’s what we were getting.

He’s trying to prove something. He runs from home. He wants to know who he is when he's not Robin. All good stuff.

But the story rushed it. Damian went from:

“I don’t deserve to live”

to

“I beat the Lazarus demon in my head and now I’m fine”

in like, five issues. Maybe 7.

That’s not healing. That’s narrative whiplash.

Worse, we finally get inside Damian’s trauma -the guilt over Alfred, the resentment toward Bruce, the confusion about Talia - and then we speed-run emotional recovery through a hallucination of his inner demon. Cool imagery. Half-baked execution.

This should’ve been a 30-issue psychological arc, not a slightly spiced tournament brawl with a feel-good ending and a hug.

Let’s be real: the best part of the Lazarus Tournament was Flatline. Mostly at least.

She was witty, violent, competent, and emotionally grounded.

She killed Damian with a flirty grin. ICONIC.

She called him out. Made him reflect. Gave him a mirror without being a “fixer.”

Flatline had the perfect amount of chaos and pathos to match Damian, and her presence added depth to the story that none of the other contestants really brought.

But of course... she gets sidelined quickly. Because DC can't let Damian have too much growth or happiness at once. Nooo, gotta reset that character arc soon, huh?

Lazarus guy

There’s this weird demon entity connected to the Lazarus pits that represents death, rebirth, rage, and temptation.

On paper? A perfect metaphor for Damian’s psyche.

In execution? It’s like:

“Hey Damian, fight this literal manifestation of your darkness! If you win, you’re healed!”

And he does. In ONE issue.

Even though the “inner demon” literally says things like “Embrace who you are!” and Damian goes, “NO, I AM MORE.”

Cool... but shallow.

Like, where’s the tension? Where’s the long, brutal journey of self-reconstruction? Where’s the weight of that trauma? This arc treated Damian’s grief like it could be solved by punching his subconscious in the face.

Lazarus Tournament..

The setup? 🔥 🔥 🔥

The aesthetic? 🔪 Yes please.

The character potential? Off the charts.

The actual story? …meh. Shiny on the outside, soft and half-cooked on the inside.

Damian deserved a story that let him bleed, break, and slowly rebuild.

Instead, he got anime fights, a quick therapy demon, and a new costume.

It wasn’t bad. It was just half the story it needed to be.

Now..

Let’s talk about:

Who the hell Respawn is (and how wild that reveal is),

Why Damian’s reaction to him is so important,

How DC fumbled something that could’ve been huge,

And why this was the most personal brotherhood Damian never got to explore.

WHO IS RESPAWN?

Short version? Respawn is Damian Wayne’s clone.

Longer version? Respawn is a clone made from both Damian’s and Deathstroke’s DNA - an artificial “son” created as a contingency weapon. Basically a knock-off who had all of Damian’s trauma amplified and none of the love or purpose that Damian eventually found.

He was:

Experimented on,

Raised in total isolation,

Told he was a tool,

Built to suffer.

And the absolute tragedy is:

He’s everything Damian could’ve become if Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and the others hadn’t intervened.

Respawn is Damian without a safety net. Without a home. Without even the illusion of choice.

Almost brothers

When Damian meets Respawn, it’s not just, “Oh look, a clone.”

It’s a straight-up identity crisis.

Here’s someone who:

Looks like him,

Fights like him,

Hurts like him -but never got the chance to be more. Because DC hates angsty siblings obviously.

And the moment that hits? Damian doesn’t reject him.

He doesn’t go into superiority mode or cold detachment.

He sees him.

“I have a brother?.”

BOOM. That line hits like a gut punch.

Because for someone as emotionally guarded and slow to trust as Damian?

To call someone brother means everything. That’s a label reserved for Dick, and maybe Jon or Tim on a good day.

He never says that lightly. And he gives it to Respawn - this clone, this weapon, this discarded version of himself -instantly. Because he recognizes the pain. He wants to fix him.

DC KILLS HIM OFF. OF COURSE.

And what does DC do with this deeply emotional, complex brotherhood?

They kill Respawn off immediately.

It is infuriating.

The emotional fallout is barely explored. Damian is angry and guilty, sure, but there’s no real aftermath. No time to grieve. No deep reflection. Just:

“Oh hey, your clone-brother is dead, anyway let’s move the plot forward.”

This is one of the biggest missed opportunities in Damian’s entire arc.

They could’ve explored:

Cloning ethics,

Legacy and personhood,

Damian’s desire to be more than just a weapon, reflected in someone who never got the chance.

Instead? Respawn is reduced to a plot tool to escalate the Shadow War storyline.

And you know what? That’s a crime.

I'm tired. I'll stop writing this now 💕

[babyzzai]

I was so unaware you didn’t get requests yet :0 Which is so rude! You deserve all the requests! So here I am >:3

Could I request some little Dazai caregiver Chuuya headcanons/fanfic? I’m not sure if you want requests for headcanons or fanfics- I’ll probably submit a second request in case this is too confusing-

caregiver chuuya + little dazai headcanons ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

note: i do write fanfics! usually i dont take requests since i dont have the motivation to write a fanfiction if im not really into the idea, but i write my own fanfictions and post them on my ao3 (soukokutruther) :3 i have two regression themed ones up, and one non regression one but still sfw and soft <3 im also working on a third agere one! :D

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

headcanons below the cut!! ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ dazai is a sleepy regressor! when regressed he usually is just in his pajamas and takes a lot of naps. hell always insist hes not tired, and hes too old for a nap (pretending to regress to an older age such as 8-9ish, when in reality hes an itty bitty baby, probably 1-2ish), but once chuuya pulls out his bottle and wraps him a soft blanket hes through, out like a light and drooling onto chuuyas shoulder haha

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ as i stated before, dazai regresses to around 1-2ish, but he has trust issues and issues with being vulnerable, so even after he accepts his regression, he still tries to be a big kid and be more independent, when in reality hes really dependent on chuuya, and is even nervous and starts to cry if hes not with him at all times while regressed.

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ however, because hes a baby, chuuya of course will treat him like a baby! he has all sorts of toys like rattles, and soft plushies, and particularly those stuffed animals that have a little blanket for a body, like these. dazai doesnt really use any teethers when regressed but hes a big pacifier user, chuuya has a bunch of them laying around. if dazai doesnt have his pacifier, hell start sucking his fingers, which chuuya is adamantly against because he doesnt want dazai who already has a fragile immune system to get sick + he doesnt want him to chew up his fingers.

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ despite dazais personality when not regressed, i think hes honestly a very gentle and sweet little baby. for one, hes afraid to be vulnerable when hes regressed, so acting out is out of the question because he doesnt want to misbehave and have chuuya yell at him (chuuya would never, but dazai lives in his head and makes up anxieties). secondly, dazais entire nonchalant laugh it off demeanour is just a show when hes big, and that all comes crumbling down when hes regressed, showing his true colors, and his wants and needs. all he really wants is love and snuggles and to be held. he just needs reassurance and the kind of gentle love hes never received anywhere else :(

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ dazai loves peekaboo. hell lay in chuuyas lap watching him hide behind his hands for hours. and its all worth it to chuuya to hear his adorable babys sweet little happy giggles.

chuuya hiding behind his hands "oh no... where did mackeral go?" dazai giggling hysterically, because chuuya is right behind his hands, how could he not know where dazai is? and chuuya dramatically peeking out from behind his hands. "there he is!! theres my baby!!" and dazai laughing happy, saying "gain! gain!" (again, again!)

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ dazai, because he is so young, is not very verbal when little. hell occasionally say small, slightly mispronounced words such as "nuh" (no), "mmhm", "chuu", "chibi" or "chichi" (hes trying to say chibi, but hes just a little guy, you cant blame him!)

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ they have a game before they go to sleep for the night where chuuya will kiss all of dazais freckles on his nose before they go to sleep, and dazai will kiss chuuyas freckles back! chuuya thinks dazais little baby kisses are the most adorable thing in the world, and his heart flutters with every tiny little kiss the baby gives him!

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ dazai cant stand not to be around chuuya when hes little... but at the same time, his baby brain doesnt have the same criticl thinking skills as he does when hes an adult. so sometimes while chuuya is asleep, hell wander away out of curiosity (he sees its raining outside, he wants his stuffie, hes hungry, etc.) but once hes gone, it hits him that hes alone, and chuuyas not there, and he doesnt know what to do, and he doesnt know how to find him again, so he kinda just shuts down and starts to cry. chuuya, being woken up by his poor babys lonely, anxious crying, of course finds him immediately, and picks him up into his arms and hushes him and reminds him that if dazai ever needs anything he needs to tell his caregiver first! (hide and seek is definately not a game they play lol)

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ i feel like dazai would really like moomin valley, the 90s version. i think the voices would be so calming to him, and hed enjoy all the magical elements and the aesthetic of it. however, i think he calls moomin a hippo, and chuuya tries to correct him and be like "sweetheart, moomin is a troll, not a hippo", but dazai associates trolls with being scary and moomin is not scary, so he cant be a troll, he has to be a hippo!! the two episodes though, with the groke, scared him.

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅chuuya is very protective, probably overprotective of dazai. its because he personally sees how capable and independent dazai is when not regressed, and a lot of that independence is taken away when dazai regresses. hes very sensitive and emotional and doesnt always know how to take care of himself, and that combined with chuuyas natural protective instincts over those he loves makes him extremely protective of his baby. he doesnt like dazai regressing without him, but only will accept it if its kunikida caring for him, because i feel like they have a mutual respect for each other and understand that both of them care a lot about dazai and would take good care of him. dazai also puts so much trust into chuuya when he regresses and chuuya is his default caregiver, that chuuya feels almost territorial with the baby lol.

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ dazai is autistic, and masks his symptoms a lot, and when he regresses that ability to mask vanishes. his sucking on objects or his fingers is a self soothing stim, and when hes excited hell or flail his hands around. he also hums to himself as a stim (he does this when not regressed too), and is a lot more sensitive to light and sound. he cant stand uncomfortable clothing either and almost always wears pajamas when regressed.

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ i think chuuya has a caregiver headspace, hes not just a caregiver because he loves dazai (though thats definately a reason too- i mean some people dont have caregiver headspaces but they still caregive because they want to be accomdating to their loved ones). so not only is regressing theraputic for dazai, it is for chuuya too, because it calms that need in him to take care of someone, and to protect them. when dazai is asleep with his pacifier and his stuffie all cozy in chuuyas arms in a warm fluffy blankie, he cant help but just feel such a strong sense of rightness, and content in his chest, because this is exactly what he needs. a happy baby in his arms.

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ i headcanon dazai as a cane user post mersault, not all the time, just to help him balance and lean his weight on if his leg is feeling off. and i headcanon him to have chronic pain in that knee that he broke. when his knee is hurting, i think he falls down into his baby headspace, and chuuya will give him an icepack and/or warm heating pad depending on the type of pain, rub his leg and his knee for him, carry him anywhere he needs to go, reassure the baby that hes no less beautiful or perfect or human because he has a physical disability now, and that hes still loved and will always be loved. on flare up days/periods, chuuya and dazai usually just cuddle in bed and watch shows or movies, and order takeout and drink hot cocoa.

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ chuuya loves to do fun activities with dazai! dazai is not fond of regressing in public, so things like cat cafes and parks and public events are off limits, but hell stargaze with the baby on the balcony, telling him stories of all the different constellations and pointing out different planets. hell bake fun treats with dazai (usually dazai doesnt do much baking since hes a disaster in the kitchen even when not regressed-). dazai usually just pours ingredients into bowls and cups with chuuyas help and licks the spoons. he likes to pick flowers with dazai and make little flower crowns, and will color with him. they make tents from blankets and cushions and pillows in the living room to go on a fake camping trip, and chuuya will pretend to be a scary grizzly bear, and then will fight the bear off to protect dazai! he gets dazai to do crafts and fingerpaintings. he absolutely keeps his baby entertained, even if dazai doesnt like to leave the safety of their home when regressed!

i have sew many headcanons but this was getting super long lol. can you tell theyre my favs? lol!! i hope you like my hcs!! :3

[cillianhead]

Anything about cillian with a beard!

Cillian with a beard... oh my god don't even get me started.

Anyway here you go my love <3

Three And A Half Months || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: SMUT, also a fluffy sweet fic, oral sex (f receiving), face riding, mentions of blood but nothing too graphic, general adult content ahead.

18+ Minors DNI

Last night you had reunited with Cillian. It had been three and a half months since you had last seen each other, the longest you had ever gone without seeing one another, he was away shooting for a new film and it was in the states so traveling back and forth between Ireland and America grew exhausting. Of course, as soon as you saw each other, you had no time to process the beard on his face, just the fact he was there. Nothing else mattered except him being there, right in front of you, to touch and to hold. So you went at it like rabbits, knocking over furniture, breathing each other in like feral animals, making love until you were sore and panting for air. No amount of late night phone calls could ever truly compare to the feeling of having his cock deep inside you.

The next morning arrived, light pouring through the curtains and lighting a still sleeping Cillian in a golden light, the rays gave him a tiny halo, one you thought he rightfully deserved. You just smiled to yourself, the both of you still completely nude from last night's love making, you felt at peace, lying in bed with the love of your life, his arm draped over your waist heavily, the sound of his slow breathing, and the indescribable feeling of his warmth beside you. Every time you looked at him, a metaphorical slow romantic guitar would play, your heart would swell and overflow with love, and your eyes stung with the happy tears that seemed to always come. That was the thing about you, so incredibly emotional, Cillian always teased you about it. You'd cry at any chance you could get, whether it be because of hormones or because you saw a cute cat or because of the beauty that Cillian is. And when he had come home with that rugged beard that made him so handsome and so deliciously masculine, you felt weak in the knees, you cried but not from your eyes.

"Mornin' me love," The irish lilt of his voice mixed with the grumble of his morning voice brought you out of your daydreaming. "Lookin' so beautiful f'me." He leaned in, placing a soft sweet kiss to your cheek. You couldn't feel uglier with your messy bed hair and your puffy face after a long night's rest. But to Cillian you were the apple of his eye, no other woman could ever possibly compare.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," He chuckled at your confession. "Those three months and a half went on for far too long but I'm here now, lovie."

"No, no..." You shook your head with a childish grin. "I missed you while we slept... missed you for every moment... was watchin' you sleep."

Cillian laughed contagiously, you giggled too as you felt him pull you closer to him, your bare chests touching. He nuzzled your nose with his own, this moment so full of love, so intimate and private. You felt like the luckiest person in the world to be with him. The light painting you two in a golden hue, the moment felt so surreal, like something out of a wonderful dream or something you'd see right before you die, right as your soul becomes free.

"What've you got planned today, Cillian?" You hummed, you both huffed out hot puffs of air on each other's faces, neither of you caring that you hadn't brushed your teeth yet. Just relieved you could finally touch each other again, relieved your souls could finally reunite and recharge, that your bodies were flushed together, it wasn't possible for you two to be any closer (physically at least).

"Nothin'," Cillian murmured quietly, stroking your hair softly. "Just planned on spending it with my favorite girl, thas' all." You felt yourself grow flustered, nuzzling your face into his chest before glancing shyly back up at him, growing more flustered at the sight of him and his beard. That beard that made your heart race and in between your legs throb with desire.

"Cillian..." You whined, catching your bottom lip in between your teeth. He was so fucking pretty and even after all this time of being together, you could never get over it. It made you feel like a giddy little girl with a silly school girl crush.

"Hmmm?" He hummed. The deep vibration sending jolts of arousal straight to your core. "What is it, baby love?"

"Your beard..." You ran your fingers along the hair accumulating across his jawline and cheeks, clenching your thighs together. In all the time you and Cillian had been together, he had always been clean-shaven, of course there'd be the rare occasion where he forgets to shave for a day or two and has a bit of stubble but nothing ever this long. Cillian had that knowing look on his face, he very much knew the effect he had over you. Arrogant was not the word you would ever use to describe Cillian, in fact he was an incredibly humble and modest man but when it came to riling you up, teasing you, he was quite arrogant then, arrogant in the way he knew every little inch about you and would use that against you. He enjoyed teasing you, enjoyed getting you where you were weak because he enjoyed watching you squirm. "It's so...." You trailed off, biting your lip once again with that flustered look on your face.

"...So what?" Cillian grinned, a cheeky glint in his blue eyes as his hand slipped further down your back until it rested on your bare ass. "Go on, tell your husband how wet his beard's gotten ya, love." Well that was unexpected.

You let out a bashful squeal, diving your face into his chest to hide the look of desperation and embarrassment on your flushed face. You heard him laugh, amused by how easily aroused you were. "Cillian... don't tease me... it's been three months..."

"And a half!" He added.

"...Since I last saw you, you can't blame me... especially since you look sooooooo fucking good with a beard..." You were looking him in the eyes now, his own pupils blown wide and a small one-sided smirk on his face. You slipped your hand down his abdomen before your fingers wrapped around his already hard cock, he let out a small breath at the feeling of your gentle hand.

"C'mere, Y/N," Cillian groaned, grabbing you by your waist, picking you up like you weighed nothing and sitting you up on his stomach. "Wanna taste you... s'been too fuckin' long."

Your arousal pooled on his stomach, getting off on the slight friction against your clit every time he breathed in and out but it wasn't quite enough. "Cillian... baby..." You huffed, too shy to make the first move, he gave your ass a gentle slap.

"Go on, sit on me fuckin' face," He was growing impatient, licking his lips. "Show me how much you love my beard, know you're soaking wet 'cause of it, silly girl."

He wasn't wrong and so you meekly crawled until your pussy was aligned with his hungry face. You hovered your hips hesitantly over his nose and lips, your thighs on either side of his head. He roughly grabbed ahold of your plush hips and pulled you down until he was suffocating in your sopping cunt.

"Fuck!" You mewled, your pussy ached with how turned on you were. His tongue lapped up at you, his nose perfectly brushing your clit as he fucked his tongue in and out of your tight hole. You never understood how he could breathe with your weight fully on top of him, he'd always give you some form of punishment if you didn't sit on top of his face like he was just a chair so you did as you knew he wanted. He always reassured you that he loved it, that being under you with his face buried in you was heaven on earth. And who were you to deny him what he so desperately craved when it felt so unbelievably good? He especially loved it when you took control, when you gave into the pleasure and rode his face, used his face like it was just something for you to cum on. He also knew the consequences of growing out his beard, he knew it'd turn you on, and this was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew once you came all over his face, he'd smell you in his beard for days.

Cillian was in pure bliss as he felt your fingers interlock with his hair, holding onto him for support as you began rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue and nose, moaning so fucking loud that the neighbors could hear. It had been so long and the feeling of his beard scratching your thighs and sticky folds made the experience so much better. The new sensation was only making you moan louder and louder.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck... Cillian..." You were gasping, Cillian groans into your pussy, encouraging your rough movements. "Missed this so much! Missed your face..." Fuck. The feeling of his nose pressed right where you need him, right against your throbbing clit, it was like he was made for you. You loved his nose and you always told him so.

Cillian was breathing you in, feasting on you, like all there was was you. Well at the moment, that was true. All he could hear, see, taste, and smell, and feel, was you. He could feel cum leak slowly out of his cock, not being able to handle how turned on and rock hard he was, he needed some kind of release. But there was no way in hell he was going to touch himself, not when he could have his hands grasp onto your hips, holding you down on his face even further. He hoped one of these days that you would eventually become one. That he could have your delicious cunt permanently on his face, even if it meant suffocating to death.

"Cillian... I... fuck..." Your head was rolled back, hand gripping desperately onto the top of his head, too lost in the pleasure to think about how you could be hurting him but you knew if it was too much for him he'd tap out which he never does. You knew Cillian would take whatever you gave him. "I'm cumming!" You choked out, your hips that were previously fucking his face slowed down a bit, stuttering your movements as you came. You hadn't came this hard in months, your fingers could never compare, nor could your vibrator, or showerhead. You had fully collapsed on top of his head, thighs squeezing his head like a vice as you saw stars. Your vision going completely white. Cillian lapped up all of it, taking it gratefully, face completely drenched and well ridden as you pulled off of him with a gasp.

"Bloody hell..." He grunted, gasping for air. You sat on his chest, still too weak or sensitive to move. Cillian smiled up at you dopily, high off of feeding off you. It only turned you on further how he got off on your pleasure. "Tastes so good... missed that so much... think I know what I'll be doin' all of today, love." You shook your head at Cillian, giggling a bit.

His face was drenched and beard sticky with your cum. Your cum formed perfect little droplets within the hair on his face, looking like he had just dipped his whole face in some sort of body of water, your cum had made it all the way to his forehead somehow. You blushed as you hopped off of him, you always felt embarrassed afterwards.

"Oh my god!" You exclaimed, seeing a bit of blood staining his teeth, you looked down at your groin to make sure you weren't bleeding (maybe you got your period?) but your heart sank at the realization you had managed to bust his top lip with how hard you rode his face. "I'm so sorry, Cillian! I'm so so sorry!"

He sat up with a frown, rubbing at his mouth to see the bit of blood on his fingers. He grinned like a mad man at the sight, standing up to look at himself in the mirror. You didn't understand why he was so happy about it. Beard coated in your creamy cum, face flushed, and his top lip bruised and swollen from where it had been repeatedly rubbing against his teeth. Cillian was pleased with his appearance and the newly made wound on his face. You stood up on shaky legs, cupping his face, worriedly.

"It's okay, love," Cillian reassured. "I'm fine, just a bit of blood, it'll heal by tomorrow I'm sure."

"No! I hurt you! I'm sorry I wasn't thinking!" You felt so guilty, you felt like the worst wife in the world. You brushed your thumb along his wet beard with a sad look on your face.

"Y/N," He said firmly, grabbing a hold of your waist, giving you a soft kiss, giving you a taste of yourself. "I wish you could understand just how much I love it when you ride my face. Best fuckin' thing in the whole world, how many times have I told you I'd die a happy man if it meant I got to drown in ya? Hmmm?" He smiled, you still frowned up at him, feeling guilty at his reddened lips. "Fuck, I don't think I could look sexier right now, I mean look at me! I don't really care f'me on looks but c'mon... you make me beautiful, Y/N..." Cillian looked delicious, he was right, you wanted to pounce him then and there and sit on his face all over again. "If people ask what happened to my lip, I can make up some flimsy excuse about how I fell on my face or some shit like that but smile to myself... knowin' the real story..." He licked his lips before continuing. "Knowin' that my goddess of a wife got herself off on my face because she loves me so much..."

His voice was soft, his hands caressed your naked body as he leaned in and kissed you. His beard was the best feeling ever against your lips. "I am sorry though... Cillian... I should've been more gentle..." You murmured. Cillian shook his head, he loved it when you were rough with him.

"I know a way you can make it up to me, darling," He hummed with that mischievous grin before gently pushing you down onto your knees, face right next to his deliciously hard cock. He moved his hips so that the head of his dick pushed at your lips, slapping you gently across the face with it. "Can't promise I'm gonna last very long though..."

"That's fine, Cillian... love the taste of your cum..." You said smiling as you lovingly took him into your mouth. God he looked so pretty with his beard.

-

<33333

[dracowars]

superhero(es) | steve rogers

pairing: steve x reader

word count: 3,9k

summary: where steve and y/n spend a morning with their little family

a/n: this goes to all my fellow women: you are so strong and powerful, beautiful and kind ❤️ (first steve rogers os, hope you enjoy!!)

warnings: none

universe: marvel

You can't tell if it is your maternal instinct or just your body playing tricks on you again, but as soon as you catch a glimpse of a dull, radial light through your closed eyelids, your dream ends abruptly and your exhausted body falls back into reality. A reality where your little three-year-old daughter opens the door to your bedroom, her bare feet padding over the paquet floor as she stops right in front of you, tightly clutching her favorite stuffed animal in her arms. Definitely your maternal instinct because the quivering of her lower lip can hardly be ignored and she does not even need to touch you with her tiny hands that you already open your eyes.

The moment your eyes adjust to the light coming in from the hallway and you see your daughter standing in front of your side of the bed, your heart breaks a little. Your inner alarm bells go off immediately and you lift your upper body up, propping yourself up with your elbow on your pillow. The heavy weight lazily swung across your waist does not move a single bit when you do so.

"Hey, hey, Grace-y, darling. What's up sweetie?", you ask her worried and reach your hand out to her, your eyes heavy despite the sudden rush of adrenaline due to seeing your babygirl wide awake in the middle of the night.

Her bottom lip trembles even more now that she tries to answer, trying to hold back her tears like the strong girl she is.

"Shh, don't cry. Come here, sweetheart", you prompt, grabbing her hand and pulling her closer in order to pick her up and sit her on the mattress next to you. Smoothing back her hair, you fondly smile at her. God, when did she grow up so fast?

"Grace, do you want to tell Mommy what's wrong?", you ask her again, your voice in a whisper and your heart aching at seeing your precious daughter this distraught.

"H-Had a bad dream", she responds quietly, adjusting her tone to yours as she quickly noticed that her father is peacefully sleeping next to you, unaware of what is going on.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry about that. But everything is fine now, okay? You don't have to be scared of anything anymore, we are here to protect you", you reassure her with a smile, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear while she is still clutching her stuffed animal to her chest. A single tear rolls down her puffy cheek as she nods and you quickly pull her into a hug, running your hand over her back soothingly.

"You can sleep here tonight, is that alright?", you whisper in her ear and, again, get a nod in response. "Okay, but try to not wake up Daddy."

In fact, it is proving quite difficult not to wake Steve up since his muscular arm is still splayed across your middle. Steve just returned from a mission yesterday and you can't even describe how much you have missed him. Even if it was not for long, you keep realizing that you can't live without him anymore. And his children missed him even more.

Every time he returns home, whether it is after a normal day's work or after a longer mission, he is so exhausted that you feel sorry when James and Grace immediately jump onto him. But he tells you that it makes him happy and, obviously, you believe him. Still, you do not want to disturb his well-deserved sleep which is why you try to move as little as possible.

Carefully, you set Grace down in the middle and lift Steve's arm so that your daughter can quickly squeeze in-between. Sniffling, she looks at you with her big eyes as you adjust the covers over her and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Before you can settle back into your previous sleeping position, however, Steve stirs in his sleep, seemingly noticing that something changed as he wants to pull you closer to him. In doing so, he is not only pulling you closer to him now but also your daughter, who can't help but giggle at her father unintentionally cuddling her. While you barely move, hoping your husband will stay asleep, he takes one deep breath. After that, silence spreads throughout your bedroom.

"Do we have a visitor tonight?", Steve's deep, sleep-drunk voice suddenly asks into the dark and you startle a little.

"She had a nightmare, but don't worry. You can go back to sleep", you say, feeling his arm retract from you as he hugs Grace tightly instead, placing kisses all over her which makes her giggle even more.

"These bad dreams can't harm you, sweetheart. You know Mommy and Daddy will always be there to protect you", he whispers to your daughter, who is now cuddling into him, his chin on top of her head. Your heart beats faster upon seeing their interaction and you once again realize how lucky you are to have him. And you are so incredibly grateful that he gave you such wonderful children like James and Grace.

"Try to sleep again, alright? Daddy won't let the bad dreams disturb you any longer", Steve explains softly, running his hand over her hair to soothe her into dreamland. Gently, he kisses her cheek and motions for you to come closer in order to give you a kiss as well while not having to leave his position with your daughter in his arms. Smiling, you peck his lips and fall back into your pillow, the exhaustion hitting you at once. But when Steve's fingers graze your upper arm, you manage to still intertwine your hands before falling asleep again.

════════════

Scattered rays of sunshine tickling your nose, you move and slowly wake up. You do not even have to open your eyes and you know that you clearly have not had enough sleep to be fully rested. But you have to get two children ready for school and daycare and simultaneously make yourself presentable for work as well.

A quick glance at your alarm clock shows you that you woke up before the alarm, which is only supposed to go off in half an hour.

Sighing, you let your hand dangle over the edge of the bed before lifting yourself up completely, unable to get any more sleep anyway. Yawning, you sit on the edge and a smile creeps onto your lips as you turn around and are met with the cutest sight the world has ever seen.

Steve's entire bulky body is spread out like a starfish across his side as well as yours, his huge frame taking up most of the space. Meanwhile, Grace is sprawled across his torso, her stuffed animal in one of her hands, and they both snore away peacefully. You genuinely wonder how you survived a night with this little space.

As carefully and slowly as possible, you stand up and reluctantly tear yourself away from the sight which is going to make your heart fill with a lot of joy for a few more days. You tiptoe to the chair next to your closet, throw the clothes you have already laid out yesterday evening over your arm and disappear into the adjoining bathroom, but not without turning off the alarm clock first.

The built-in clock on the mirror reminds you once again how early in the morning it is, but you choose to ignore it and splash cold water on your face to wake up. After that, you take a quick shower and put on some make-up, styling your hair while enjoying the quiet that early mornings usually bring.

With two children, a family dog - a German Shepard named Sarge -, and a husband who saves the world almost every day, there is often not much time for rest. And you often lose sight of the fact that you also have a job and a life outside of your role as a mother and wife.

But you love this role, even if it drives you crazy at times.

Slipping into your clothes - today more formal than usual as you have an important meeting - you take one last look at yourself, and the clock, and then exit the bathroom. Grace and Steve have hardly moved in the meantime and it is not easy for you to destroy this moment. At least the shrill sound of the alarm does not do it.

Gently, you crawl back onto the bed and kiss your daughter's forehead several times, softly urging her to wake up. Steve receives the same treatment and while Grace wakes up pretty quickly, he remains fast asleep.

"Go wake up your brother, okay? I will be right there", you say to Grace, who looks at you sleepily but rested and she sets off immediately, the thought of waking up her brother exciting her.

"Babe, it's time to get up", you whisper, kissing his cheek, but he still has not moved. His hair is tousled and his beard is more than three days old. If you told anyone how difficult it is to get Captain America out of bed in the morning, they would probably never believe you.

But here you are, trying to shake the big man in front of you awake.

"Why, already?", he finally murmurs, waking up but clearly not wanting to as he reaches for you, pulling you on top of him. "I didn't even get a proper chance to hold you last night. I'm cuddle deprived."

At this, you let out a laugh and try to free yourself from his grip, but he does not let go of you and his strength exceeds yours by far. Super Soldier Serum and such.

Still, you do not even think about giving up and pull on his arm again, which is wrapped tightly around your waist.

"Steve, please. I need to help Grace brush her teeth and get dressed", you mention, but your husband clearly does not seem to care, as you can see from his expression.

"She's grown up. Besides, wasn't she supposed to wake James? He can help her", he winks at you and you let out a humourless chuckle, not believing his words.

"So you were awake, you-"

"I just can't get enough of your kisses, you know? And I gladly admit it, after all you are my wife and I do not have to hide anything from you", he smiles proudly, kissing you on the lips. "Otherwise, what was the point of marrying you if I can't kiss you whenever and wherever I want?"

"Oh my god, Steve. What's gotten into you?", you giggle, pushing him away from you as much as he lets you. Meeting his eyes, you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks because he looks at you like you hung the moon.

"Is that a blush? Did I actually make my wife blush right now?", he grins from ear to ear and you just roll your eyes as an answer, biting back another giggle.

"Shut up. You are an idiot, but you can be glad that I missed you so much", you smile and kiss him again, using his unwariness in that moment to finally free yourself from his grip, which is only accompanied by Steve's grumble. "Now get America's ass up or our whole house will be flooded if I let your children alone in the bathroom for one second longer."

"Yes, ma'am", he salutes you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tries to suppress a laugh. Rolling your eyes with a giggle, you set off to stop Grace from turning the bathroom into her own little water park.

It does not take long for you to get everything back under control and escort your children, and Sarge, who was woken up by all the turmoil, downstairs, into the open kitchen and living area, where they both sit on the huge sofa and watch their favourite kids show. This distraction allows you to prepare their lunch boxes while simultaneously getting some breakfast ready for Steve and you. Of course you also take care of Sarge by filling up his food and water bowls.

Laughter fills the air whenever the cartoon character says something funny on screen, and your heart fills with love at the sight of your two little bundles of joy. Leaning against the counter behind you, you wait for your coffee to be ready, tracking what is currently happening on screen.

All of your children's concentration is on the screen. That is until footsteps can be heard coming down the stairs and they both rush to stand up, jumping into Steve's arms before he even gets the chance to properly enter the room.

"Woah! Careful you two", Steve warns them immediately, but in such a playful tone that they do not even take him seriously. He lifts them both up with ease and bids them good morning with a kiss to the forehead. Sarge is also standing directly at his feet now, his tail wagging in glee.

"Daddy, Daddy! I didn't have any more nightmares", Grace declares proudly while, at the same time, James shares his super-cool, action-packed dream of being the superhero who saved the world.

Steve listens to both of them intently, as best as he can when they are talking to him at the same time, and sits them down on the stools by the kitchen island. The two only stop talking when they drink their orange juice, which you have put there beforehand. Drinking their juice, James starts explaining his dream to his little sister, babbling away.

"Good morning to you too, my beautiful wife", Steve greets you as he slowly approaches you and you can't help but check him out. Today, for your pleasure, he decided to put on a compression shirt, which emphasizes his muscular upper body and especially his upper arms, and combined it with a simple pair of cargo pants. His hair is perfectly styled the way you love it and he has kept his stubble.

He looks so incredibly handsome right now that you just can't keep your hands to yourself and touch his chest the moment he softly kisses you.

"I saw that", he whispers against your lips, flexing the muscles under your hand before leaving a little more space between your bodies. "How did you sleep?"

Since your senses are currently fully consumed by him - his fresh just-left-the-shower scent, his raspy voice, his body in front of you, his entire aura -, you have to swallow before being able to answer. Steve watches all of this with a slight grin on his lips that he is trying to hide, perfectly knowing what he does to you right now.

"Good. Fine. I mean for the sleep I got it was fine", you shrug, being used to not ever feeling completely rested. "I will survive."

"I never doubted that", Steve replies, placing both hands on the counter next to your hips, catching you between them. "But next time you can wake me up when the kids come over at night."

"I know, it's just- You were so exhausted last night and I just couldn't bring myself to steal your well-deserved sleep", you sigh with a sad smile, and, lost in thought, run your hand along his chest and over his shoulder, avoiding eye contact.

"That's why I love you. But", he starts, suddenly holding a cup in front of you. "What was this invented for, then?"

In disbelief, you quickly take a glance next to you, to where the coffee machine is, to where your coffee was just made.

"You are a thief", you say, offended when he actually takes a sip from it with a grin on his perfectly sculpted face.

"It doesn't even work for you", you remind him with your eyebrow raised.

"Hm, the thought counts", he winks at you playfully before placing the cup in your hands, pecking your cheek before filling himself a glass of orange juice as well. "By the way, you look beautiful."

"I tried my best", you snicker, sipping your coffee as you try to hide what is turning out to be yet another blush. "You don't look too bad yourself either, Mr. Rogers."

"Daddy, do you like my pigtails today?", Grace interrupts your conversation all of a sudden, apparently having enough of her brother's talk about superheroes.

"Of course! I love them!", Steve answers, leaning on the kitchen island to be able to reach out to her on the other side, twirling one of her pigtails around his finger. "It looks stunning. And would you take a look at these butterfly hairclips! Amazing!"

The big smile that then appears on her face mirrors that of her father and you can't help but smile too. It is moments like these that really make you realize how lucky you are.

Finishing up their lunch boxes, you ask your children to get their backpacks so you can put them in. The colorful boxes disappear into their bags and a glance at the clock tells you that you will have to get ready to leave soon.

"Do you think I can be a superhero one day, Daddy?", James asks, apparently still caught up in his dream. Steve smiles at him with so much adoration in his eyes as he takes his backpack and smoothes down his hair that you feel your heart beating faster.

"Of course you will, what a question!", Steve answers enthusiastically and takes Grace's backpack as well after checking the time.

"Because my friends don't believe me when I tell them that you are a superhero and that I will one day also be one", James continues, looking at his feet as he tells you this. Steve seems to be at a loss for words for a second and you also do not know what to say. It is not about what he said but about the way your son said it. With so much defeat in his voice.

Quickly, Steve and you exchange a sympathetic gace before he bends down to be on one level with James.

"Don't listen to them, buddy. We all know that you will be a superhero one day and that is what counts", Steve encourages him, rubbing over his shoulder in an attempt to lighten him up. "Am I right, Grace?"

"YES!"

Grace answers with so much enthusiasm in her voice that it makes you giggle. Grace has always been her older brother's biggest fan and when she goes over and hugs him now, telling him that he will be great, but that he definitely needs to get her a cool superhero costume as well, your heart skips a beat and you feel warm inside.

This is your family and they are the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Steve pulls both of them to his chest, hugging them as well before picking them up, one on each side. Apparently they wrap their hands around his neck a bit too tightly, because he is fighting to get some air. "Alright, alright, I may be a superhero but I still need to breathe. Who is ready to leave?", he announces and your kids giggle, loosening their grip on their dad. Sarge barks softly as a response, apparently also ready to go out.

Steve maneuvers both of them to the entryway, putting them down and helping Grace to tie her shoes. James, on the other hand, puts on his jacket and shoes in record time, visibly proud. You join them in the hallway, stuffing your lunchbox into your handbag and handing Steve his own.

"Thank you, my love", he kisses your cheek, patting down on his body to see if he's got his keys and wallet. "Let me bring them today."

"W-What? I was supposed to-"

"I know. But I want to. It's not long until my next mission and I just want to spend as much time with them as possible", Steve interrupts you, smiling while opening the door so the kids can already go outside. "I also need to proof to James' friends that his father is, in fact, Captain America. And you drive them every day, after waking up earlier, after helping them get ready, after making breakfast. Don't think that I haven't noticed that you are barely getting any sleep. I can practically see how exhausted you are, honey."

His words are spot on. Recently, when he was gone on more and longer missions, you indeed found it increasingly difficult to take care of two - three if you count Sarge - children on your own. Even with the help of your parents, and Bucky and Sam from time to time, you were still quite overwhelmed with everything. It actually makes you feel better, even if you do not want to admit it, that Steve is now taking this task off your shoulders. On the other hand, you love your children and can't bare to be seperated from them for too long.

Steve notices that you fall silent at his words and he steps closer, grabbing your hands tightly.

"You're the best mother on this planet and we can consider ourselves incredibly lucky to have you", Steve whispers, softly cupping your face before kissing your forehead. "You are the true superhero here."

"I sometimes really don't feel like it", you answer with a bit of despair in your voice, your two babys laughing in the background as they are already getting into the car on their own. Using the last few minutes you have before running late, you pull him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around his waist while his are around your neck.

"I love you so much", he whispers into your hair, planting a few kisses there. "You're doing amazing. You've got this. Sometimes you just need to let the sidekick take over."

"Thank yo-"

"Mommy! Daddy!", James' voice interrupts your cute little moment, but before the two of you seperate, Steve steals a quick kiss from you.

"Alright, you need to get going or otherwise you'll be late", you giggle, following Steve out of the house after turning off all the lights and grabbing your bag, Sarge following your every step. You step to the back of the car and check if James and Grace are securely buckled in and then give both of them a kiss to the cheek.

"Have fun today and remember who's going to pick you up after?", you say, smiling as you watch both of them realize which day it is today.

"Uncle Bucky! Uncle Bucky!", both of them yell in unison, giggling. Waving goodbye, you close the door of the car and turn to Steve, who is ready to jump into the car.

"Take care and good luck for your meeting", Steve smiles at you, softly sneaking his hands around your waist to pull you closer and to give you a kiss one last time. However, he doesn't seem to want to stop anymore so you have to gently push him back.

"Mr. Rogers, I fear you're going to be late if you continue like this", you chuckle, caressing his cheek. "See you later. Take care. Love you."

"Love you, too. My superheroine", Steve winks, finally getting into the car and starting the engine. You watch as the car leaves and disappears around the next corner. Sighing, you do not even realize that you are not moving until Sarge begs for your attention. Smiling, you bend down and pat him.

"Oh Sarge, what would I do without all of you?"