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2698rr · 22 days ago

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onesies and baby food

| 1.6k words | x female reader | fluff |

basically, Jason finds a baby and takes care of it with reader (his girlfriend)

you’d never spoke of having children, never. there was a sort of underlying knowing there that it wasn’t on the table.

for many factors. childhood trauma leaving a dent, jason’s late night activities or well—the fact you lived in Gotham.

so children weren’t a keen interest, something you both were hungry to have.

ironic since you fucked like bunnies in heat, but that’s not too important. no, what was important was the fact there was a baby sitting in your living room.

jason looked guilty, his lip was jutted out as he chewed on the inside of it, his eyes were both straying far away and latching onto yours to see your reaction.

and you’re not too pleased.

“Jason..” you breathed out, not wanting to argue with him—and not wanting to wake the small child. as much as you weren’t thrilled to have kids, you were very aware of just how softly he held the child.

how those hands, the ones he often believed held a sense of sin with them, the ones he believes are only good for hurt, cradled a small, vulnerable thing ever so kindly.

it tugged in your heart a little, left a kiss mark that burned. you had to snuff it out, at least for now.

“look.. baby.” he said, rising to his feet as he shifted the baby to rest comfortably, you had to force your eyes away due to it. “It’s just temporary, until i can find her auntie” he said, voice almost a quiver, a plead.

you were reluctant, staring at him. but as horribly as he saw himself, as horrible as he deems he is, he was a good man. caring and soft in the ways he has to hide.

he means good, he’s always meant good. and it’s not like you were heartless, you weren’t going to throw the child away, make it fend for itself, it’s a baby for Christ’s sake.

you didn’t say anything, just nodded.

a week is what it took to gather everything, from a crib to a stroller. enough diapers and food, clothes. (which you couldn’t kid, had been quite enjoyable)

Jason was thriving, if it wasn’t for the fact the two of you knew you weren’t the right candidates for children, you’d suspect this came naturally.

he was perfect with the baby. awake at any single peep, washing, bathing, cleaning, cooking. he was there for it all.

you’d grown quite fond and used to the child aswell, falling asleep with her on your chest, swaddling her late at night as the two of you awaited jason.

it was becoming a new normal that you two honestly (however quite quietly) enjoyed.

the sound of the television could be heard, you were focusing on gathering all the dirty clothes around the house. (that had doubled since the baby had joined) when you heard a quiet cry.

it wasn’t a cry that left you worried however—lord knows how long it took to distinguish that— instead it was a cry of curiosity.

your feet padded into the carpeted floor as you swiftly made your way to the small child. eyes darting over to where she laid in her crib.

her hands grasped at her, inching for something you could not yet see. however the closer you came you could make out the figure of jason.

her murmurs grew quite loud, giggling and babbling at jason, or more so—red hood. who was now looking at you, busy unsheathing his gloves.

“Was going to try and come in quietly” he mumbled, tone drowsy with needed sleep and weary from whatever attacks his body had endured.

The baby continued to mumble and mutter as her hands grasped rather aggressively, or as aggressively as a newborn can. “‘ts alright..” you replied.

slowly moving over closer to jason who was quick to rest his hands on your waist, his body instinctively curling itself in to you.

Your fingers moved and curled underneath the helmet he wore, the distinctive hiss of it coming off padded against the walls.

however the laugh that followed form neither of you and rather the small child in the crib is what made it a rather tender moment.

it was hearty, one that used all of the baby’s tiny lung capacity to push out, causing her face to turn beet red as she giggled and stared up at jason ever so adoringly.

your laugh followed out next which had the frown lines in his face to disperse and to rather crack his own smile at it all.

over the last few weeks since the small thing had joined, a quiet sort of family was settling in. and with every day that a response isn’t heard from her auntie is another day you silently plead she never responds.

You feel horrible for it, of course you do. the child belongs with her blood, her family. but is family only blood?

you’d grown to learn all sorts of things about the baby, how she disney like the potato and mash baby food and rather prefers the peas and carrot’s one.

how certain tops of baby bottles are her favrioute, what socks irritate her skin, what cry’s call for what and even the warmth of her body on top of your heart.

and jason well, he’d never verbalise his own feelings. but the more you know jason the more you can see jason, in his eyes or his facial expressions or even the simple way he carries himself.

with that fact, it was clear as day that he’d be as torn as you once the baby goes. after all he now often works with the baby sitting on his lap or his foot rocking the baby seat you had gotten.

he has many notes from weeks of focusing on what’s good for the baby (which had caused him to freak out one night for letting the baby try an almond)

it was safe to say that quietly, ever so slowly, had you become a sort of family. despite that, you didn’t have a name for her.

she was nearing two months old and had spent nearly a month with you and yet there was no name.

turns out the mother never named it and the two of you were reluctant to give her a name, after all how could you ever pull her away from yourselves if you named her yourself.

Jason was quiet for a few moments, just flicking his eyes between his two girls, something he’d noticed he’s been thinking to himself often.

he couldn’t deny that often his thoughts swayed to what it would be like if you two were to keep her, or if you two were to ever have your own child.

he’d never thought of it before, he never wanted it. to pass down the ‘todd’ name felt like a curse in his eyes, his blood was posion and he wanted to refrain from passing it on.

not to mention the what if’s, what if something like joker happened again, what if he never makes it home.

he didn’t want that, he didn’t want the endless possibility’s of negativity to ever happen.

however when the lights are dim and the scent of you and jason mixed into the bedsheets engulf him, when he tilts his head and sees you, face relaxed and content with a small shuffling baby, he reconsiders.

He doesn’t notice that you’ve picked her up, he doesn’t notice that your hand is rubbing soothing circles into the side of his arm while the baby’s head rests over your heart, he doesn’t notice until your soft voice murmurs “have a shower, then come to bed.”

so he does, he moves to the bathroom while you heat up some baby formula for her. you change her into a onesie with (ironically) bats on it, and position the two of you into bed.

jason’s quick with the shower, obviously ready to rest and go to sleep. his body slides in and is quick to press against yours, one hand moving to rub your arm softly while the other patters soft motions into the baby’s back.

you’re both silent, both laying there. blankets heaped up like fluffy marshmallows, the lingering scent of a candle from hours ago sticks and both of your breaths mingle.

“Shyla..” jason’s quick to turn his head as your voice speaks out, he raises an eyebrow in confusion but says no more. “Her name.. it should be shyla”

your body shuffles closer to his as you press your nose into the head of her hair, its neither your nor jason’s colour yet it suits her beautifully, you take in the smell of a baby and your body relaxes ever so more.

he makes a huff like noise, not out of anger or discomfort, rather just acknowledgment. “why’s that” he mumbles out, his fingers continuing to move as he rests the side of his head on yours.

your voice rumbles into his skull and he sighs. “Well, it’s a more modern sheila.. don’t you think?” and jason’s quick to snap his head up.

his mothers name, not exactly but the intent is there, after all you’d been with jason long enough for him to finally be comfortable enough to even mention (let alone speak) about his upbringing.

however, he doesn’t hate it.

in-fact, a part of him fawns at it. heart warms at not only the way you think of him, of connecting him. but at the fact you remember those parts.

“Yeah..” he mumbled and you relaxed. it went quiet again for a few moments, the baby moving and shuffling as she often did, your hand moving to rest ontop of his while the two of your eyes remained closed.

“I don’t want to give her back” you admitted and jason let a snort out. “neither”

somewhere along the line the three of you had fallen asleep, jason waking up at one point to put shyla into her crib, only to lazily slink back into the warm sheets.

all that could be hoped was she could stay.

—

hope you enjoyed! i kinda whipped this up quick cause i wanted to do some fluff, its kinda shit i won’t lie, it’s unedited and done on my notes app mwhaha

my board for more works!

ao3; 2698RR

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #fluff #jason todd fluff #dcu #dc comics #jason todd drabble #jason todd imagine

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seventeenpins · 1 year ago

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a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader #ok i gotta be honest i was stoned out of my mind for writing most of this #but mostly sober for editing #thank u for bearing with meeeeeee

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melosliving · 1 month ago

Note

I know you’re tired of me but can you do a fic where reader is really famous and is married to Aaron but no one knows at all except for close family. They also have kids and ppl think reader is just popping out a random man kids 😂. Until one day they are spotted out together with all their kids in tow.

Um… hey ! It’s been a while ikkk. Let me tell you life has been lifying and it hasn’t been that good so far lol 🫩. So sorry for the delay, hope you’ll enjoy it bb ❤️

Aaron Pierre x wife!reader

yeah.. y’all got kids and told nobody !

You had always been good at keeping your life real quiet. Like, Beyoncé-in-the-hospital-delivery-suite quiet. Which is saying something, considering you were a quite well known. Movie premieres, Vogue covers, Grammy weekends, all of it. Yup, you were that girl. And still, somehow, nobody knew you were married. Or that your husband was Aaron damn Pierre.

See, it wasn’t intentional at first. Y’all just moved different. You didn’t feel the need to overshare, especially not about him. Aaron was your peace, your quiet. The kind of man who made coffee in the morning and rubbed your feet at night. You met on a set, had your first kiss in the makeup trailer, and got married two years later in a garden with your mamas crying and your aunties gossiping about how fine he looked in that linen suit.

Now, four kids later ? And nobody knew ?

Every once in a while, someone would catch you with a stroller or a baby on your hip, and the blogs would go crazy. The captions were wild: “She’s got another one?! Who’s the daddy this time?” Like you were just collecting children like Birkin bags.

Even your fans started making TikToks like:

“Not me thinking she was just giving birth for fun.”

“Girl. Who is your man? WHO.”

“She’s literally on baby #4 and I’ve never seen the same dude twice.”

You and Aaron would laugh about it at home, him with a baby bottle in one hand and your toddler drooling on his shoulder. He’d look at you, “They really think you out here with randoms?”

But then one sunny-ass Saturday, y’all got caught slipping. For the first time.

You’d just finished brunch at this cute lil Black-owned café in Notting Hill, kids wildin’ out like always. Your oldest wearing Aaron’s sunglasses, your second born had one shoe on and was yelling about a pigeon, and your twins were strapped in the double stroller looking like copy-paste versions of their daddy.

Y’all looked like a whole sitcom walking down the street.

And boom. That one damn paparazzi photo changed everything.

Aaron was holding your daughter on his hip, and your son was holding his hand while you adjusted the stroller. Your head was thrown back in laughter, and Aaron was kissing your cheek mid-step. Click. The Photo was taken. And they ate it up !

“WAIT. IS THAT AARON PIERRE??”

“YOU’RE TELLING ME THIS MAN BEEN MARRIED?! FOUR KIDS?! WITH HER?!”

“I THOUGHT SHE WAS SINGLE SINGLE.”

“Now it’s making sense… all her kids got the same exact dimples.”

“THEY BEEN HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT.”

Even celebs were in the comments like, “Oh y’all was serious about privacy huh.”

And Aaron ? He was so unbothered. Chill as ever. He made a rare post the next day : a blurry photo of y’all cuddled up in the backyard, one kid laying on your chest, another crawling on Aaron’s back.

You almost threw your phone at the wall. “Why would you post that?!”

He just smirked and said, “Let them know I’m yours. Been yours. Always been yours.”

now ? The world knows. But they still don’t know. They see the kids, the love, the kisses. But they don’t see the late-night forehead kisses, the little “you good, baby?” whispers when you’re overwhelmed, the way he carries every baby like they’re royalty. The way your house is filled with music, and warmth, and the smell of his cologne on the baby blankets.

You’re still that girl. But now you’re that wife. And that mama.

And best believe—he’s that man. Periodt.

@melosliving 2025

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x reader #mufasa : the lion king #aaron pierre fluff

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satellite-evans · 5 months ago

Text

Not my baby

Pairing : Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry comes back home with the wrong kid :)

Warning: tiny angst, happy ending, sleep deprived parents

Word count: 2.3k

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Harry had never truly understood what it meant to be a parent. He loved his family, of course—he adored his wife, Y/N, and now he found himself utterly smitten with their newborn daughter, Willow. But the reality of sleepless nights, endless feedings, and the whirlwind of emotions that came with being parents was something Harry had never fully grasped until now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen his friends with their children or heard the stories from other parents. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for how deeply the exhaustion would seep into every part of his being. And the exhaustion wasn’t just his. Y/N had been the one to endure the brunt of it, her body adjusting to the demands of both breastfeeding and the round-the-clock needs of their infant.

It had been nearly three weeks since Willow was born, and although Harry had tried to help in every way he could—holding Willow while she napped, soothing her when she cried, and trying to take on household chores—he knew that Y/N had it the hardest. She was the one that had carried Willow for nine months, the one who had brought her into the world, and now, she was the one who was still waking up every two to three hours to nurse, then trying to sneak in some rest during the day when Willow took her naps.

Despite the weariness that clung to her every movement, Y/N had a glow in her eyes whenever she looked at Willow. That love—the undeniable bond between mother and child—shone brightly even through the tiredness. Harry admired her for it, but he could see that she was starting to run on empty. He could feel it in her sighs, the way she held her head a little lower, and how she kept rubbing her tired eyes like they could somehow erase the exhaustion.

Harry knew he couldn’t take away the sleepless nights or the emotional toll, but today, he was determined to do something to help her. Just a little. A few hours of uninterrupted rest. That’s all he wanted to give her.

It was mid-morning, and Y/N had finally managed to doze off on the couch after nursing Willow and settling her back into her bassinet. She had been awake for hours, trying to comfort Willow, who had been fussy from teething. Harry saw how her eyes fluttered shut as soon as her body hit the cushions, and he knew that was his chance.

He tiptoed into the living room, making sure not to disturb her. He’d thought long and hard about how to make this work. There was no way he could bring Willow into the other room and make noise. But he could give Y/N some time to sleep if he took Willow out for a little walk. The fresh air would be good for both of them. Harry figured a quick stroll to the park would do the trick. Just a few hours. He’d be back before she even noticed.

He glanced at Willow, still peacefully asleep in her bassinet. He smiled softly, heart swelling with love. He picked her up gently, cradling her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. She was so tiny, so perfect. She had a tuft of dark hair on top of her head and a soft, little face that made Harry’s heart ache with joy. He placed her carefully into the stroller, making sure she was comfortable and snug with a soft pink blanket tucked around her.

The stroller was simple—black and white, sleek and modern. (Y/N) had picked it out before Willow was born, and Harry had made sure it was ready for the day they brought their daughter home. He adjusted the straps around Willow’s tiny body and double-checked the wheels, giving them a quick spin. Once he was satisfied, he crept into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, sitting at the table to quietly sip it before heading out. He didn’t want to wake (Y/N).

For a moment, Harry allowed himself a deep breath. He was still reeling from the intensity of fatherhood. It was overwhelming at times, especially with the lack of sleep. He thought about how this experience had shifted his entire perspective on life, on love, on what truly mattered. (Y/N) was everything to him, and Willow... Willow was their miracle.

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry decided it was time. He grabbed his jacket, slipped on his shoes, and with one final glance at Y/N, he left the house.

The air outside was crisp, a soft breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. Harry loved the quiet of the neighborhood during the day, the calm before life got busy again. He pushed the stroller slowly, savoring the peaceful moments as he made his way to the nearby park. Willow was still asleep, and Harry let himself relax for the first time all morning. There was something so serene about these early mornings—the silence, the fresh air, the gentle hum of life around him.

Harry hummed quietly, looking down at Willow. He reached down and gently stroked her hair, his voice soft and comforting.

“Alright, love. We’re off on an adventure, just you and me,” Harry whispered, smiling as Willow’s tiny face stayed relaxed, oblivious to his words. “I’ll make sure you’re as tired as I am by the time we get home. I know you’re sleepy now, but we’ll get some fresh air, won’t we?”

Harry continued walking, his thoughts drifting as he pushed the stroller down the sidewalk. “Your mum’s going to love this. A few hours of quiet for her—she deserves it more than anyone.”

As Harry approached the park, he noticed the familiar sight of other parents with their children. Some were chatting, some were on their phones, while others simply sat in silence, enjoying the break from the whirlwind of home life. Harry guided the stroller to a bench and sat down, looking out at the peaceful surroundings.

He watched Willow’s chest rise and fall gently in her sleep, her tiny hands curled into fists. It was hard to fathom how quickly she’d grown in just a few weeks. Harry knew he couldn’t wait to see her first steps, hear her first word. But for now, he was content to just be with her in this quiet moment.

Not long after, another man arrived at the bench nearby, pushing an identical stroller. Harry glanced over, raising an eyebrow at the coincidence.

“Hey there,” the man greeted, settling onto the bench next to Harry. “Nice day for a walk, huh?”

Harry smiled, glad to see someone else enjoying the peace and quiet. “Yeah, it’s beautiful out. My first time out with her,” he said, gesturing to Willow. “Trying to give my wife a break. She’s been—well, you know.”

The man nodded knowingly. “I get it. It’s tough, isn’t it? My daughter’s a handful, and I’ve been trying to get a break too. But, you know, they’re worth it.” He chuckled softly, glancing down at his stroller. “I’m just trying to let her nap for a bit.”

Harry laughed, nodding in agreement. “I hear you. Same here. She’s been pretty calm though, so I think I’m lucky so far.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the kind of quiet that only new parents seemed to understand. Harry watched the man’s daughter playing in the distance, toddling toward a group of other kids. He smiled, feeling a little sense of camaraderie in the shared exhaustion of parenthood.

Harry’s eyes drifted back to the stroller beside him. He noticed the other man’s baby had a soft pink blanket just like Willow’s, and for a split second, Harry didn’t think twice. He stood up, yawning as he stretched his back.

“Alright, kiddo,” he murmured to Willow, who was still asleep. “Time to head home.”

The man had stepped away for a moment, leaving his stroller unattended. Without thinking, Harry grabbed it, instinctively pushing it toward the park entrance.

When Harry finally returned, he was beaming. He had given Willow the quiet afternoon she deserved, and now, he was looking forward to seeing Y/N wake up, refreshed and happy.

He quietly unlocked the door, stepping into the house with the stroller in tow. Y/N was still fast asleep on the couch, her chest rising and falling gently. Harry smiled to himself, knowing that soon, she would get a break.

He tiptoed over to her, setting the stroller down beside the couch and gently pulling back the blanket to reveal the baby. But when Y/N blinked her eyes open and took in the sight of the child in the stroller, her blood ran cold.

“Harry, what the hell... is this?” Her voice cracked with panic.

Harry froze. “What?”

“That’s... not Willow!” Y/N’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. She sat up so quickly that she nearly knocked the stroller over.

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned, peering into the stroller.

Y/N was practically shaking now. Her fingers trembled, gripping the edge of the couch. “That’s not our baby! That’s someone else’s child! Where is Willow?!” Her voice pitched higher, bordering on hysteria.

Harry’s heart raced. His thoughts scattered. He stepped back, his mind running through a thousand thoughts in an instant. He glanced from the baby in the stroller to Y/N, and then it dawned on him—he had made a mistake. A huge mistake.

“No... no way... no, I—” His voice trailed off as his own panic set in.

“Harry, you took someone else’s baby!” Y/N’s voice went from frantic to full-on hysteria. She was trembling now, her entire body shaking from the weight of the realization. “Oh my God, you took the wrong kid!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Harry tried to explain, his brain struggling to catch up with the sheer magnitude of the error. “I swear, I thought—”

Y/N wasn’t listening. Her breath was coming in short, panicked gasps. Her hands shook violently as she pulled out her phone to dial the police. But when she saw her fingers trembling uncontrollably, the numbers on the screen blurred. She could barely focus. Her vision blurred with tears of terror.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, hands shaking so violently that the phone nearly slipped from her grasp. She tried again, but her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. “Why can’t I dial? I—I can’t breathe!” Her voice broke.

“Don’t call the police!” Harry begged, his voice cracking. “Please, just let me explain. I’ll fix this—just let me fix this.”

Y/N couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of utter dread. “You don’t understand,” she gasped. “We need to find Willow. We need to find her now.”

Her trembling hands hovered over the phone, but before she could dial the number, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden. Harry’s heart stopped. He rushed to open the door, his stomach flipping with anxiety. And standing there, holding Willow in his arms, was the man her met at the park whose expression mirrored his own terror.

“That’s my daughter!” the man snapped, seeing the baby in Y/N's arms, his voice full of frustration. “What kind of person takes another child's baby?!”

Harry stood there, stunned. His eyes darted from the angry man to Willow in his arms and back to Y/N, who was now crying from a mixture of relief and rage.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, barely able to find his voice. “I thought she was mine.”

The other father glared at him, his irritation palpable. “Yeah? Well, next time, keep track of your kid!”

As the situation settled, both parents not only exchanged the babies, but they also exchanged apologies. The tension in the room was still thick. Willow was safe, and the other baby was safe, but the mix-up was enough to send both families into a temporary panic.

When everything was finally sorted, Harry stood in the living room, staring at Y/N, who was still shaking from the ordeal but still hugging Willow close to her chest, who had no idea what happened. She walked over to him; her face a mixture of anger, exhaustion, and relief.

“Harry,” she began, her voice low but firm. “No more surprise walks. No more ‘I’m just trying to help’ crap. You scared me half to death!”

Harry looked down at the floor, feeling the weight of his mistake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to help you get some rest.”

Y/N softened just slightly, placing a hand on his chest. “I know, love. I know. But next time, double-check the stroller, okay?”

Harry nodded, his heart still racing. “I swear, never again.”

And with that, they both took a deep breath. The chaos was over, but it would be a long while before they forgot the walk that went terribly wrong.

#fluff #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x wife!reader #harry styles imagine #dad!harry

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mxtantrights · 11 months ago

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Jason finding out his so is pregnant with twins? 🤔

probably really shocked. like big shock. didn't think that when the two of you were trying that this could happen. well, the chances aren't zero but it is low. low enough that it didn't even register that it could happen.

after the initial shock wears off Jason is probably trying to figure out how he's going to raise two kids with you. thinking about raising one was a total mind wreck, but this? This is going to take some planning. fine tuned planning.

Jason was already going to read all the pregnancy books but now he's reading double the amount. there are more ifs and maybes now that it's twins.

this also means that Jason has to make some investments. like two car seats. two car strollers. an actually car and not a motorcycle. (somehow the bat mobile is able to fit two car seats, don't ask how he finds this out)

doesn't want to know the genders. oh Jason is totally the type to want it to be a surprise. he wants to find out when you give birth. not at a baby shower and not in a doctors office.

probably stares at amazement at you all the time. not only are you carrying one life, you're carrying two.

satisfies all of your cravings. peanut butter and pickles? ice cream and French fries? done. foot massages, shoulder massages, soothing sounds to fall asleep to.

he also lets you sleep closest to the door for the nine months only because he knows you'll have to use the bathroom and it's easier and quicker for you to be near the door. but as soon as you've birthed the twins he's right back to sleeping closest to the door.

takes Polaroid pictures of you doing mundane things. says it's for the photo album that Alfred is putting together. (one day you ask Alfred about said photo album and he doesn't have any idea what you're talking about.)

Jason wants to name one of them, and he wants you to name the other. and he won't tell you the name ideas he has/won't listen to you if you try to tell him yours. likes surprises in this instance only!!

Jason probably has to be talked down from painting the room some ugly color. he wants to be inclusive but throw-up yellow is not it!

his siblings take care of a lot of things for him without him having to ask. suddenly the corners and sockets in the house are baby proofed. six month supply of diapers. wholesale club membership card in your name approved.

day of the birth Jason is calm on the outside but freaking out on the inside. he won't show it because you're already going through so much. (you find out about halfway through and ask him to freak out without)

you're in labor for twelve hours. Jason is there for all of it. he doesn't leave your side. the siblings become your henchmen. you need ice chips? Damian's got it. You need a nurse? Cass and Duke have your back. Need to watch better channels on the hospital tv? Tim is your guy.

Bruce talks to Jason while they both stare at your twins through the glass window of the nursery. Bruce doesn't have to say much, he knows Jason will be a good dad. And Jason likens Bruce's belief in him to his childhood with Bruce. Yes it wasn't normal but it was a childhood he'll never forget.

Jason carries both babies in his arms for the firs time and cries. Like silent tears rolling down his cheeks. You start crying too.

Jason's name for baby #1: Cassie

Your name for baby #2: Peter

a/n: OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!! THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN ANON <33333 didn't know how much I needed Jason to be a dad until I did this. you're a rockstar!!

#dc blurbs #dc imagine #dc x reader #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurb #twins dad! Jason

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secretlysimpash · 6 months ago

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just thinking about the shifter/hybrid task force and when they’re “in season”

Warnings: AFAB/fem reader, baby fever type behavior, breeding kink if you squint, suggestive and straight up nsfw in some parts

🐻Bear shifter Price, who follows you everywhere. Stares down anyone that he deems “too close” to his mate, actively putting himself between you and the other person. Glaring at them too, will ask if they need something if they don’t back off. He’s a bit protective and territorial as it is, but it's heightened when his brain is telling him to protect the one who will be carrying his cubs soon (if you aren’t already).

Keeps an arm around you whenever he can, or a hand on your lower back, or holds you in his lap if he’s sitting…Basically just nonstop touch wherever and whenever. And once you do start showing, belly swollen with his cub, he’s even MORE protective.

–

🦅Red-tailed hawk shifter Gaz, who’s been adding a lot of new additions to the bed. Softer blankets, more pillows, some plushies that he thought you’d like…And of course, his feathers are scattered around and on the bed. You should probably expect to wake up with feathers in your hair as well.

Hey, you’ll need a cozy nest anyway, for when you’re full, expecting his baby…Or babies, since it's very possible you could be expecting two or more at a time.

And it seems like Gaz is even anticipating that outcome, making sure to point out double strollers and adorable matching onesies for their babies. In his hawk form, he’ll sit right on your belly or perch behind you to groom your hair with his beak (it only hurts a little bit, will chirp with annoyance if you tell him to stop).

–

🐈Scottish fold shifter Soap, who honestly isn’t all too affected by his shifter instincts. Not at all…He always rubs his face against you whenever he can, so that’s normal. Always wants his scent on you one way or another, even encouraging you to use his shampoo or wear his clothes (and only his clothes with nothing under them).

But now…Now he just seems very adamant on having his mate bear his children. Johnny starts tracking your cycle, figuring out when it’s most likely to take. Call it instincts, or call it baby fever…Whatever you want to call it, it's clear that once you give the okay, he’ll get right to work.

And once it takes, he’ll get right to work on the nursery, baby-proofing, names…All after seeing just one positive test. And once his mate starts showing, he's insufferable, purring and crooning about how perfect you look.

🐺Wolf hybrid Ghost, who’s noticeably a lot more amorous now. Before, he wasn’t one to shy away from affection in private, but would be more reserved with it in public. But now? Oh…Now he’s an absolute clinger.

He doesn’t care if you two are currently at the store, he wants to kiss your face now so he’s stopping you dead in their tracks and leaning down to do exactly that. If you’re just sitting on a bench in the park, fully expect him to try and rest his head on yours or tug you into his lap so he can nuzzle your face and neck (to take in your scent and mark you with his, two birds one stone). And the markings…Oh god the markings. He’ll want his mark all over your body, and if you’re too shy about showing it off, he’ll bite you in places where only he can see.

So he seems more cuddly, which might be just a bit off-putting for anyone who knows him well enough. Oh, and he wants pups. Like…Really wants pups. He’s been mumbling about knocking you up so you can carry his pups since the season started.

After dumping load after load into you, he’ll put a hand on your belly and whisper about how you’ll be such a good mama.

#cod x reader #cod x you #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #hybrid au cod #shifter au cod #hybrid ghost #hybrid soap #hybrid gaz #hybrid price #just a sprinkle of spice with this au stuff

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callsigns-haze · 8 months ago

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Can you write something with Y/n and Tyler going baby #2 shopping and it's just cute and fluffy with them and Hazel and maybe add some spice but not when Hazel is there hehe. It can be anything! thanks.

Another 2

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler and Y/N take their daughter Hazel baby shopping as they prepare for the arrival of their twin boys, savoring a day filled with love, laughter, and the anticipation of expanding their family.

Warning: Brief suggestive content and fluffy family moments.

The morning sun streamed through the nursery windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the room as Y/N and Tyler stood side by side, watching their three-year-old daughter, Hazel, play with her stuffed animals. The room was a blend of pinks and blues, the latter added in preparation for the twin boys who would be arriving soon. Hazel’s giggles filled the air as she carefully arranged her toys in a row, her little brow furrowed in concentration.

Y/N rested a hand on her growing belly, where the twins were nestled, and exchanged a smile with Tyler. “Hard to believe we’re doing this all over again,” she said softly.

Tyler wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Yeah, except this time it’s double the fun,” he joked, looking down at Hazel with a grin.

Hazel, noticing her parents talking, looked up with bright eyes. “Are the babies coming today?” she asked with the innocent curiosity of a child.

“Not today, sweetie,” Y/N said with a gentle smile. “But soon. We need to make sure we have everything ready for them first.”

“Which is why,” Tyler added, crouching down to Hazel’s level, “we’re going on a little shopping adventure today. You ready to help us pick out some cool stuff for your brothers?”

Hazel’s face lit up at the prospect of an adventure. “Yes! I want to pick the toys!” she declared, bouncing on her feet.

Tyler laughed and scooped Hazel up into his arms. “Alright, little one. Let’s get going.”

The baby store was a whirlwind of colors and options, from tiny onesies to double strollers designed for twins. Y/N held Hazel’s hand as they strolled through the aisles, while Tyler pushed the cart, which was quickly filling with essentials.

“Oh, look at these!” Y/N exclaimed, holding up two identical sets of tiny shoes. “One for each of the boys. Aren’t they adorable?”

Tyler leaned in to take a closer look, grinning. “We should get a matching pair for Hazel too. Can’t leave her out.”

Hazel, who had been eyeing a display of soft blankets, tugged on Y/N’s hand. “Mommy, can we get this for the babies?” She pointed to a light blue blanket covered in little stars.

Y/N smiled down at her. “That’s perfect, Hazel. You’ve got great taste.”

Hazel beamed with pride as Tyler added the blanket to the cart. “You’re going to be the best big sister ever,” Tyler said, giving Hazel’s hair a playful ruffle.

As they moved on to the furniture section, Hazel’s excitement only grew. She eagerly pointed out cribs, rocking chairs, and anything else that caught her eye. Tyler and Y/N laughed as they indulged her suggestions, knowing that Hazel was taking her new role as a big sister very seriously.

After a while, Hazel started to tire out, her earlier enthusiasm giving way to the inevitable crankiness that came with being three years old. Noticing her yawns and rubbing eyes, Tyler suggested they take a break.

“There’s a little café just outside,” he said, adjusting Hazel in his arms as she started to get heavier with sleepiness. “How about we grab something to eat and let Hazel rest for a bit?”

Y/N agreed, and soon they were sitting at a small table in the café, Hazel nestled in Tyler’s lap with a piece of toast in hand. She was quiet now, her eyes drooping as she leaned against her dad, content to let him do most of the eating.

Y/N sipped her iced tea, watching them with a smile. “You know, it’s hard to believe we’re going to have two more little ones soon. It feels like just yesterday we were bringing Hazel home.”

Tyler glanced up at her, his eyes warm. “Yeah, and now look at us. We’re pros at this whole parenting thing.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Y/N teased, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Twins are going to be a whole new adventure.”

Tyler squeezed her hand gently. “Yeah, but we’ve got this. And we’ve got Hazel to help us out, right?” He looked down at their daughter, who had already started to doze off.

Y/N laughed softly. “If Hazel stays awake long enough, that is.”

By the time they returned home, Hazel was sound asleep in her car seat, clutching the starry blanket she had picked out for her brothers. Tyler carried her inside and gently laid her down on the couch, covering her with a throw blanket. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her little face peaceful and serene.

Y/N set the shopping bags down in the living room and joined Tyler by the couch, watching Hazel sleep. “She’s going to be such a good big sister,” Y/N murmured, leaning against Tyler.

“Yeah, she is,” Tyler agreed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist. “And you’re going to be an amazing mom to three little ones. I don’t know how you do it.”

Y/N smiled up at him. “Because I have you,” she said simply. “We’re a team, remember?”

Tyler leaned down and kissed her softly, his hand resting on her belly where their twins were growing. “Always,” he whispered against her lips.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, their future bright and full of love. They knew there would be challenges ahead—sleepless nights, double the diapers, and the chaos of raising three children—but they also knew they would face it all together.

And that was all that mattered.

Later that evening, after Hazel was tucked into bed, Tyler and Y/N found themselves in the nursery, sorting through the day’s purchases. As they arranged the tiny clothes and set up the new furniture, the reality of what was coming began to sink in.

Tyler, always the planner, was checking off items on a list, making sure they hadn’t missed anything. Y/N watched him with a smile, loving how dedicated he was to their growing family.

When the nursery was finally set, Tyler turned to Y/N, a playful glint in his eye. “You know, we haven’t had much time to ourselves lately,” he said, his voice low and suggestive.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “And whose fault is that, Mr. Owens?”

Tyler stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. “I’d say it’s our combined efforts,” he teased, his hands sliding to her hips. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Y/N laughed softly, looping her arms around his neck. “Neither would I. But I do think we deserve a little alone time.”

Tyler grinned and leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. “How about we make the most of it, then?” he murmured against her lips.

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she nodded, letting Tyler lead her out of the nursery and toward their bedroom. Tonight, they’d savor the quiet, the closeness, and the love they shared, knowing that soon, their lives would become even fuller, even more chaotic, and even more wonderful.

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

@katiemcrae

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens smut #dad!tyler owens

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impala-dreamer · 7 months ago

Text

A Simple Kinda Man

Dean’s a pretty simple man. He likes the things he likes and you can rarely get him to change his mind about it.

He loves classic rock. Epic guitar solos that pour from the speakers and carry you away. Deep, pulsing, intricate bass lines that rock you to your core. Drums that block everything out. Lyrics that paint a picture so clear you can see it with your eyes closed. He rarely voluntarily listens to any music made after 1984, but will tolerate it if you’re driving - those are the rules, after all. And good luck getting him to admit he wiped away a tear listening to that Taylor Swift song you blasted from your room the other night. It won’t happen. Ever.

Dean loves a home-cooked meal, especially if it ends with pie. He doesn’t hate cake, but he finds the frosting too obtrusively sweet. He likes apple pie because it’s warm and tart with just a hint of sweetness hiding behind the biting cinnamon. He likes a rich, flakey crust that you can only get by using real, full-fat butter. Low-fat and calorie-free are not words he is familiar with and actively avoids when roaming the aisles at the grocery store. If he’s gonna eat, he’s gonna enjoy it, cholesterol be damned. He’d happily take a greasy double bacon cheeseburger over even the fanciest offering at a steakhouse and prefers his fries shoestring and deep-fried-orange, thank you very much. He picks his whiskey based on dollar amount not years aged. He’ll eat pizza cold and right off the floor if he has to. He’s not picky, but he likes what he likes.

He pretends not to care about looks, but he’s been known to mess with his hair in the mirror for way longer than necessary, and he’s once or twice been caught with whitening strips clogging up his mouth. He prefers comfort over fashion but he damned sure knows how to find a tee that’s just a little too tight in all the right places, a pair of jeans that hugs his ass just so. He’s well aware how that deep burgundy flannel shirt brings out the freckles on his cheek and the green of his irises. He’s no fool. He knows he’s handsome; knows when he grins just so his dimples could ignite a fire in a thousand hearts.

He loves kids but he tries not to think about it too much. Sure, whenever a stroller passes, he sneaks a peek at the tyke inside and wonders what it would be like if your DNA and his got squished into a little human, but he lets it go. As he tells himself: “Mars ain’t the kinda place to raise a kid”, and neither is the Bunker or the life he leads.

He finds comfort in small touches- fingers grazing over the backs of knuckles, hugs lingering a moment too long. He falls asleep now to the sound of your breath, the slowing, gentle rise and fall as you run around in dreamland beside him. The warmth you emit under the blankets is enough to sustain him through tomorrow and the next day, and he wonders how he survived all those years sleeping alone.

He’ll never tell you that, though.

He loves you deeply but he’ll never say the words.

He’ll prove it to you in a thousand different ways. In tender kisses and dreamy smiles. In whispered secrets and unwavering trust. He’ll protect you with his last breath. Give up his very soul to make you happy. But don’t ask him to admit it. Don’t force him to say the words out loud. It’s too much for him to handle. He’s battled monsters since he was a child, saved the world more times than he can remember, but the idea that you might not love him back, say the words in return… It’s too much, too terrifying a thought for him to risk. So he’ll tell you in the little ways. The simple ways.

He’s rough but sweet. His hands are big but warm and gentle. He’s a killer. He’s a genius. He’s stubborn. He’s ridiculous. He’s unfunny. He’s adorable. He’s beautiful. He’s kind. He’s miraculous. He’s inspiring. He is a holy unnatural, amazingly flawed, perfectly damaged, horribly broken man.

He’s Dean Winchester.

And you wouldn’t want him any other way.

For @deanwinchesterswitch and all the true Dean Girls out there.

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/you #dean x reader #drabble #dean winchester drabble

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fandoms--fluff · 8 months ago

Note

Hello gorgeous I love your work and I want to ask you is you cold do one more of Hayley Marshal and Mikaelson little sister were Hayley take on a walk in the stroller yn and Baby Hope but some people trait to attract them but yn kill them

Puddles

Flufftober, October 4th

Baby Mikaelson heretic sister reader x Hayley Marshall (& Hope Mikaelson)

Warnings: mentions of death?

A/n: Thank you, Love. I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Make sure you stay close, okay, Sweetie?" Hayley zips up your yellow jacket. "One han' on s'roller" You nod your head, looking up at the brunette hybrid.

"Yes, exactly. Good job." Hayley places a kiss on your forehead and double checks that Hope is all strapped in. Once she's certain the one year old is all secure, she goes back to the handle bars and starts walking.

You have one hand grasped onto one of the side bars of the stroller as you walk.

Hayley takes you guys down one of the paths in the local park. You jump in all the puddles you walk by, giggling as your yellow rain boots gets water splashed everywhere. But you make sure not to get any puddle water on Hayley or Hope.

The hybrid watches with a smile as you have fun. She knew you were getting restless from being kept in the abattoir for so long. So she planned this small outing for the three of you without any of the family drama for the afternoon. Nothing to worry about. And you finally get to let out some of your energy.

She wasn't sure how much more of your jumping on furniture and running around the place Elijah and Klaus could take before they snapped.

Her head snapped up from where she was looking down at a snoozing Hope. She feels someone trailing you guys. "Can you come here, Hun?" Hayley asks as if nothings wrong.

"Okay" You jump over to her and she places you on the stroller step under the stroller. "You want a snack?" She asks. "Mhm" You nod up at her, not noticing anything off.

Hayley grabs one of the baggies of goldfish out of the diaper bag and hands it to you. "Fanks" You say and open the baggie. "Your welcome" Hayley smiles as she starts to increase her walking pace.

She tries to make her way back to the abattoir to get one of your brothers or Marcel. She needs to keep you and Hope safe.

Before she knows it, you guys are surrounded by eight vampires.

You look up from your goldfish crackers when you realize you're no longer moving.

"Don't move, Hun. Please" Hayley pleads to you. You worriedly nod in compliance. Your nerves start to flare up with nervousness. You're scared. You don't know what's happening and you can tell Hayley is nervous as well.

You look back to Hope to make sure she was okay and when it's clear she's still asleep, you turn back over to face Hayley. Except she wasn't there. You turned to the side where she's fighting against two of the vampires.

One second she was taking them over before she got pinned down by a third one. And then you saw one of them advncing on Hopey. That, you couldn't let happen.

You jump up from the stroller and yell, "STOP!" A big wave of energy emits through the air and as soon as it crosses to the eight vampires, they drop dead to the ground. Veins are rising up their bodies, declaring they're dead.

Hayley Vamps up from the ground and over to you and Hope, who has been sleeping through everything. "Oh my god, are you okay, Sweetie?" She lifts you into her arms. She pulls you tight into a hug and you nuzzle your head into her chest, nodding.

"Scary" You mumble into her jacket. "Yeah, it was. I'm sorry Y/n/n." She pulled away from you a small bit and looks into your widened doe eyes. "Did you mean to do that?" She asks, referring to the many dead vampires.

"Mmm, no' exa'ly. Just happen" You shrug. "Has to keep Hopey safe" You tell her and turn to the sleeping Hope.

"Yes, and I'm grateful for that, but you have to remember not to put yourself in dangerous situations like that in the future, alright? You have to promise me" She runs her hand through your hair.

"I p'omise" You lay your head back onto her chest.

Hayley carries you with one arm while pushing the stroller with her other hand. She takes you guys back to the abattoir the quickest way possible.

"I think that was enough excitements for today" Hayley sighs as she lays Hope in her crib. You kick off your yellow boots and matching yellow rain jacket before climbing up on the chair next to the crib.

"Sleepy Hope. Nigh' nigh'" You wave to the one year old. "Yeah, good night, Hope" Hayley nods with a smile before picking you up from the chair.

"Let's go bake some cookies, huh?" She asks you after closing Hope's nursery door. "Yeah!" You exclaim, the days events behind you guys.

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ersatz-ostrich · 9 months ago

Text

Baby Fever pt. 1: Prologue

Connor x f!Detective!reader (sorta?)

Connor finds himself caring for a baby while at the DPD. Baby fever quickly begins to spread.

[A/N]: (nervous laughing) so like this was written by a person who has never taken care of an infant for a prolonged period of time— Any parents and experienced baby-rearers out there, please forgive me for any inaccuracies. I could only do so much without making my Google Search history look highly suspect, or at least more so than it already is.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence and drug (Red Ice) use (happens before the actual story takes place)

pt. 2 >>

read here on ao3

It was a bitterly cold day in Detroit. Muddy slush from the snowstorm earlier that week was collecting on the sidewalks. Pedestrians slogged on through, their boots and sneakers creating divots and valleys in the already grimy snow. A woman pushed her three-hundred-dollar stroller through the snow, her burbling child jostled gently with each bump.

Not more than a few meters away, a different woman hurried along with a bundle close to her chest. She rounded the corner and through a set of sliding doors into the bustling lobby of Detroit PD’s Central Station.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you?” The android receptionist at the front desk greeted the woman cordially.

“My baby and I are in danger,” the woman began. Her voice was taut with worry. “Her father is addicted to Red Ice…he’s after us.”

“Right this way,” The receptionist showed her to the gates to the inner complex of the precinct, her expression worried. The woman, clutching her child, followed the android to a bench in a quiet area near the bullpen. “Wait here, please. Someone will help you soon.” With that, the ST-300 disappeared behind the DPD’s double doors, returning to her post at the front desk.

The woman gazed at her baby’s wet eyes and smooth, unsullied skin. She knew she hadn’t been the best mother, but she’d done what she could given the circumstances. For most of the short time they’d spent together with that excuse of a man she had for a husband, they’d barely had enough money and food stamps to stay afloat. She’d skipped meals to be able to afford formula.

When she first got pregnant, everything seemed fine. Both she and her husband were working; they could cover rent, food, and bills. But then, during her second trimester, things got rough. Her husband lost his job and started leaving the house for hours on end under the guise of ‘job searching’. She soon noticed the changes in his mood; the time he spent away from the house got longer; it wasn’t much longer until she, in her third trimester of pregnancy and nearing her delivery date, realized that her husband had quickly stopped searching for a job and started dealing—and doing—Red Ice.

When she finally delivered her baby daughter, alone in the wee hours of the morning, she wept. Not tears of joy, but tears of regret, grieving for the life her daughter had been born into. She would have to quit her job to take care of her; in the meantime, she would have to find a way to escape from that terrible man.

Now, here she was, cradling her child on a bench in Detroit’s center-city precinct.

“Hey there,” Someone whispered softly. “I’m Detective Y/N L/N. I’m here to help you.” The woman raised her gaze to see you stooping slightly to smile at her and her child. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” She replied.

“Okay. I was told you and your child were being threatened,” The woman nodded.

“My husband. He was high on Red Ice…he found out I was saving up some of the money he made from dealing to escape.” She offered her thumb for the baby in her arms to grasp. “I need to find someplace safe for me and my daughter.”

“I understand,” You responded. “We’ll use any resource we have to help you get somewhere safe.” You glanced at the child—a cherubic little thing with pale blue eyes and wispy blonde hair. “However, I would like to hear about your husband’s situation as well. I’m a part of Detroit PD’s Red Ice Division, and…” The woman’s eyes widened slightly. “...I’d like it if you told me as much as you can about your husband’s Red Ice dealings, for your own safety and our ongoing investigations into Detroit’s Red Ice networks.”

The woman nodded shakily.

“Of course,” She answered. “I’ll tell you everything I know. Anything to stop that man from harming my family, or anyone else’s.”

“Detective?” You glanced over your shoulder to see Connor approaching you from the bullpen.

“Connor,” You greeted the android detective. “Can I help you?” When Connor’s eyes fell upon the woman and child sitting before you, he raised his eyebrows.

“I apologize, I didn’t know you were preoccupied. I came to tell you about the interview notes for the Lance case.” Connor turned to leave.

“About that,” You caught his shoulder, prompting him to turn back around. “This woman and her child are on the run from a family member. Red ice dealer and addict.” You informed in a low voice, so the woman wouldn’t hear.

“Ah.”

“This is Connor,” You presented the android to the pair. “He’s an android investigator. Normally, he works with the Android Crimes Division, but he’s helping me with a case right now.” You locked eyes with Connor again. “So, we have two things to accomplish. First, find a safe place for her and the baby. Second, investigate the husband.”

“I’ll do my best to help you catch that man,” The woman reiterated. “Still, I want to stay with my daughter, but I have nowhere to go. I’ll relinquish her if that means keeping her safe.”

Connor crouched down and smiled at the baby in the woman’s arms. The baby let go of her mother’s thumb to reach out to Connor, making grabby hands at his LED, which had turned a swirling yellow.

Inside his HUD, Connor saw a text box appear.

“Michigan’s Safe Delivery of Newborns law stipulates that a baby may be confidentially relinquished by biological parent(s) to emergency service providers within 72 hours of delivery.”

He also saw a pop-up with the baby’s birth date and birth certificate, provided to him from the state’s vital records by way of the DPD. From that information, he determined the baby to be around six months old.

“She’s too old to be relinquished. Newborns must be relinquished within 72 hours of delivery, per state laws.” Connor stated. “I will conduct a search for homes and shelters suitable for mothers and their children.”

“We’ll get you back on your feet, I promise.” You added reassuringly. “Would you mind giving us a statement?”

“Absolutely.” The woman stood. “What do I need to do?”

Let me know if you want to be part of my general, Connor, or Detroit taglists!

#rk800 #connor rk800 #dbh connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor

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fashionteahouse · 8 months ago

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How would Paul react to his wife being known as a milf😭 jealous or proud

he would definitely be a combination of both 😭💜 hope you enjoy :)

feel good all over - paul x reader

It took you a while to give Paul a chance. You were a couple of years older than him. You never really gave it a thought to date a younger man, but Paul was mature, which took you by surprise.

After marriage, a little bundle of joy came into the world. You two were so happy to have this new addition to the family. After birth, you went back to taking care of your body. You snapped back pretty good, curves being in the right places, and you felt good.

When Paul wasn’t around, you liked to walk on a trail, sometimes with your child in the stroller and sometimes by yourself.

When you went by yourself, you got whistles in your direction. When you took your child, you received whistles times ten. You got stares of admiration, you didn’t mind because you had a husband back home that satisfied you just fine.

You were a very confident person. You liked to take pictures when you felt good. Men would come into your social media pages and would leave heart emoji’s, heart eye emoji’s, and/or would ask if you were single. You usually ignore them. You didn’t want to entertain it.

You and Paul took your little one to the park. There was a nice amount of people there. You followed and kept a good eye on your child. It was a nice day and you dressed for the occasion.

Two guys who were sitting on the bench, watching their own children play, were talking amongst each other. They thought you wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“My type..definitely a milf.” One of them says.

“Damn, you see her?” One asked the other.

“Who?” the other guy replied as he’s searching the park.

Guy one discreetly points in your direction, “Her. That milf right there.”

The guys chuckle and you look to see them looking dead at you.

You guide your small child to another section of the park away from those guys. Paul is walking to you and he sees you and coos at the child.

“Paul.” you call to him.

He looks at you attentively.

“What’s a milf?” you whisper. You didn’t know if you should be embarrassed or not by what the two guys on the bench said.

“Um..it’s a woman who’s a mom that looks good enough to…ya know…fuck.” he says in a hushed tone, there were kids around.

He does a double take at you, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Those two guys over there were talking about it. I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Well, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says raising his eyebrows and grinning, “Good thing I have a taste for them.” he says closely to your ear. You playfully push him and you two chuckle.

A beat sets in.

“They didn’t say anything to you right?” he asks seriously.

You only repeat what they said and how it went. Paul whips his head to see that they’re still sitting on the bench talking.

Paul goes over there, you try to take his hand but he wasn’t having it. He stomps right to them.

“If I hear anything else about my wife, we’re going to have a fucking problem. I’ve made myself clear.” he says to them, they stare up at him like they’re children who’ve gotten caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Paul comes back to you and keeps his arm around your shoulders, letting it known that you’re his and off limits.

#paul lahote #quileute #la push #paul lahote imagine #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolves #twilight aesthetic #twilight saga #twilight #fanfic #paul lahote x you #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote x reader #x y/n #twilight x y/n #y/n #y/n imagines #twilight fic #twilight fanfiction

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torchflies · 7 months ago

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Hi TG Fandom!!!!

(Climbing out of my work cave with this little AU, since I haven't had any free time to write BUT I did get some snazzy new forearm crutches to use when I teach and give lectures so this dude is winning at life tbh).

Weird stuff starts happening when they're about a week into Top Gun.

All the flyboys are trying to befriend Maverick, but he's making it impossible. That, or the guy just has selective amnesia.

Wolfman tries to talk to him in the lunch line, but the sleep-deprived Maverick in front of him just walks right past him… in the wrong uniform? Is that a priest’s collar?

Hollywood has something similar happen to him, when he goes on a jog and bumps into Maverick pushing a baby in a stroller. A sleeping baby with a red pacifier in it’s mouth and a small girl with pigtails skating beside him. And is he wearing rollerblades too?? Hollywood tries to stop him in surprise, but Maverick shoots him a dirty look and keeps skating, tugging his kids closer. Rude.

Slider and Ice have their own trippy experience when they have to go to medbay because Ice twisted his ankle again — the man refuses to tape it properly — and another doctor pops in to grab a chart and it’s Maverick???

“Mitchell, what the hell?” Slider snaps, neither of them thinking Maverick was old enough to be double-certified.

But Maverick looks stunned and very confused. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I needed this?”

He keeps that weird look on his face as he ducks out the door and when they ask him about it in training, he just gives them the same weird look!

It comes to a head when Chipper and Sundown see Maverick talking with another officer and walking down the hall one minute. Then, they duck into the hangar and Maverick is sitting right at his desk, chatting to Goose.

It has to be a massive prank, it has to be!

Until they finally confront Maverick and Goose about it, and Mav turns bright red, while Goose can't stop laughing to save his life. He's honking and wheezing up a storm.

“Oh God,” Goose finally gasps out, “The boys are never going to let you hear the end of this. You forgot to tell them!”

“Well, it wasn't the first thing that jumped to mind! Teddy isn't even Navy!”

Goose thwacks his pilot upside the head. “Lynds, Mal and Kiff work on the same base as us!” For the greater flyboy population he finally adds, “Identical quintuplets.”

Yessireee, five whole Mavericks, exactly what the world needed. 😂

#top gun #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #icemav #Quintland AU #ron slider kerner #slicemav #Mav and his four brothers #Who look exactly the same as him #Is it Mav? Is it (insert name here)? The flyboys will never know #Leonard wolfman Wolfe #rick hollywood neven #charles chipper piper #Marcus sundown williams #nick goose bradshaw

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nataliasquote · 1 year ago

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Double the trouble | a day out | n romanoff

Part of the ‘Double the trouble AU’

Summary: a day trip with 2 3-year-olds is a lot to handle…

Age: 3 years old

Warnings: none

Pairings: WandaNat

wc: 2.9k

note: this was a request from anon (my first request!) so I hope I did it justice

- ⧗ -

Isla was always the loudest twin. She had all her firsts before her sister; word, steps, you name it, she beat Y/n to it. Which often left the younger girl feeling behind and unworthy, born to only follow in the shadows of her twin sister.

Natasha and Wanda tried their hardest to treat their girls equally, but with Y/n’s reluctance to try anything new and Isla’s strong temperament, they had a difficult situation on their hands.

Being three years old meant days were filled with trips to the park and fun days out for the whole family. Isla had been begging to go to the zoo, the colourful picture books she begged Wanda to read every night cementing her love for animals. Y/n nodded when asked if she wanted to go too. But what was she supposed to say? She did everything Isla did.

But the zoo wasn’t her thing. Whilst her older sister toddled around and pointed animatedly at all the different animals, Y/n stayed beside the stroller, her tiny hands fiddling with the fabric seat as she stared at the concrete pavement. Natasha tried her hardest to involve her, often picking her up so she could see over the fences and pointing to the monkeys who were chasing each other around the enclosure. But the little girl was having none of it, her fist wrapped around the strap of her mama’s tank top.

“What’s the matter maylshka?” Natasha asked, holding Y/n tight to her body as she lead them both over to a nearby bench. “I thought you loved the zoo?”

The small girl shook her head, flaming hair falling loose from its braids. “Isla like zoo. Not me.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed as she looked at her daughter. “But you said you wanted to go?”

Y/n gave her mother a glare. A very familiar one at that. “No. Isla said go. Not me.”

Natasha shifted so her daughter was now sat on her knee. She gently moved a stray piece of hair from her forehead and kissed it gently, rubbing the soft cotton of her t-shirt. “I’m sorry malyshka. I thought you wanted to go too.”

“It’s ok Mama,” Y/n said, placing her cool palms on her mother’s warm cheeks. Natasha smiled softly at the gesture and booped her on the nose, making the young girl giggle. “Can we get ice cream?”

Natasha pretended to think for a moment. “Ice cream? Hmmm, I don’t know.”

“I think yes!”

“Do you? And does Y/n make the rules now?”

The young girl nodded happily, her whole body moving with the force. “Ice cream!”

“Ok, big girl. Let’s get ice cream.” Natasha stood up from her seat and began to set Y/n down on the ground, but the three year old clung to her front like the monkeys behind her, tiny heels digging into Natasha’s waist. There were many things Nat loved about her youngest, but Y/n’s clingy nature was by far her favourite. It made her feel wanted, important.

With a stroller handle in one hand and a child balanced carefully in the other, Nat set off towards the jungle themed cafe she’d spotted on the map by the gate. Wanda had taken Isla off to god knows where, the young girl unable to sit still with so much happening around her.

The cafe itself was rather busy so Natasha expertly manoeuvred the stroller into a corner booth table and kicked the brake down so it wouldn’t roll into anyone’s way. She sank down onto the cushioned blue seat and allowed Y/n to straddle her lap, soft red hair tickling her nostrils as the young girl lay against her mother’s chest.

Natasha quickly scanned her surroundings before pulling out her phone and punching a quick update text to Wanda, who replied back with a video of Isla at the penguin enclosure.

“Look Y/n,” she turned her phone so the young girl could see but Y/n didn’t pay much attention. She watched for two seconds before her head went straight back to Natasha’s collarbone, finding more comfort there than anywhere else. “You’re really not bothered by the zoo, huh?”

Y/n shook her head lazily, her thumb coming up to brush against her lips, a telltale sign for Natasha who was well trained in motherhood.

“I think someone’s tired?” Another sleepy nod. “You wanna go for a nap, detka?” Talking was clearly too much for Y/n, who only replied with yet another nod. Natasha took her response and pulled the stroller close. However, she was met with some resistance as she tried to transfer a now squirmy three year old into her seat. “What’s wrong?”

“-na stay with you,” Y/n mumbled around her thumb before Nat gently prised it out of her mouth. Y/n’s big green eyes blinked up at her tiredly and Natasha couldn’t help but coo at the sight. Her girls were the most adorable things in her life and when they were tired they were so precious.

Nat moved her body back into the corner of the booth and allowed Y/n to swivel around so she was flat against her chest, cheek resting comfortably on the softness of Natasha’s chest. They may not be fed like that anymore, but the twins still found great comfort from their mamas’ chests.

It didn’t take long for Y/n’s breaths to even out and Natasha couldn’t help but take a quick selfie with her daughter, the moment too precious to capture. She stared at her screen with a blissful expression before posting it to her close friends’ instagram story. Only family and the occasional friend was allowed on there, and Yelena of course was the first to send a reply.

@ yelenabelova7

you better be bringing those munchkins to me soon. I want baby Y/n hugs too

Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed as she replied, flawlessly typing even with one hand.

@ natromanoff

i’m impressed you got the twin right. and i’m not putting them on a plane so you’ll have to come here. I know isla would love that.

@ yelenabelova7

I can’t believe you doubt me Natasha. I know my Y/n when I see her. Besides, she’s always clinging to you. You got the quiet one. Wanda has her hands full with the other monkey

@ natromanoff

They’re both our children, Lena. Wands is just happy to be dragged around a zoo. I’d rather sit

@ yelenabelova7

HA! You’re getting old sestra. You’re a mother, not a grandma. Not yet anyway.

Yelena’s comment made Natasha roll her eyes and place her phone down on the table. She cradled Y/n’s head to her chest and rocked her gently back and forth. A smile broke out across her face as she spotted her wife push through the large glass doors, Isla tugging on her arm impatiently.

Natasha held a finger up to her lips as her favourite girls approached, trying not to disturb her youngest. But her efforts were in vain as Y/n recognised the approaching voices and lifted her head to peer around. Wanda bent down and kissed her head softly, brushing her hair back as she pulled away.

“Hello sleepy head,” she cooed, taking a seat on the opposite bench and pulling Isla onto her lap. “Did the ice cream make you sleepy?”

“We didn’t even get that far, did we?” Natasha laughed, watching as Y/n’s head perked up at the mention of the sweet dessert.

“Can we get it now?”

Wanda looked down at Isla. “You wanna get some with me and we can bring it back for Y/n and Mama?”

“Sure!”

“Me go too!” Y/n squirmed off Natasha’s lap and ran over to Wanda, taking the hand on her other side. “Mama stay?” She asked, looking back at Natasha.

The redhead nodded. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Wanda led the twins away like a mother duck and her ducklings, holding their hands tight until they reached the large glass cabinet. The young woman behind the counter smiled at the precious sight in front of her as the twins stretched up on their toes to peer in.

“Pink!” Y/n exclaimed, pointing to the candy floss ice cream that sounded disgusting in Wanda’s eyes. “Can I get pink?”

“Mommy I want chocolate!”

“What do we say when we want something?” Wanda asked, putting on her best ‘mom’ voice.

“Pleeeeeese?” The girls chorused, tiny toothy smiles dazzling up at their mommy. The worker chuckled and caught Y/n’s eye so she smiled widely at her too.

“That’s better. And yes, you can get whatever you would like. But you have to ask the nice lady politely.”

Isla being Isla spoke up first, puffing out her chest as she took a deep breath. “Please can I have chocolate please?” She pointed into the cabinet, just in case the server wasn’t sure which one was chocolate.

“Of course you can sweetheart. Is that in a cone or a cup?” Isla looked at her blankly and turned to Wanda, a clear cry for help.

“The smallest cone you do please. And just one scoop.” The girl nodded and began preparing her order. “They don’t need too much sugar.”

Once Isla’s order was complete the server turned to Y/n who was staring intently at all the colourful flavours. “Which one would you like sweetheart?”

“Pink?”

“Strawberry?” Y/n looked up at Wanda, tugging her sleeve for help. The mother shook her head and watched to see which one her daughter pointed too. Granted, Y/n could barely point in the right direction but her intention was enough to go off.

“I think she means the candyfloss. The one with the glitter on it.”

Y/n’s was scooped into a similar cone to Isla and then placed on the stand. Wanda quickly sorted herself and Natasha out; two scoops of honeycomb crunch in a cup for herself, and a double scoop of caramel coffee for Nat. Wanda always teased her wife for crunching on the coffee beans that topped her scoop. Natasha sure was a strange one when it came to her flavour preferences.

Ice creams clutched tightly in hands, Wanda ushered her little ducklings back to the safety of the booth where Natasha was waiting, a large grin plastered onto her face that mirrored that of her ice cream laden babies.

Sweet treats were consumed from the safety of the jungle themed cafe and Isla and Y/n swung their feet happily as they nibbled on their cones. Sticky hands and faces were just inevitable and Wanda was soon ready to attack both with baby wipes the second they were done.

“Did you two see everything you wanted to?” Natasha asked, scrolling through the pictures on Wanda’s phone of Isla at various exhibits.

“I saw lions!” Isla bared her teeth and roared, shaking her head like she’d seen the majestic creature do hours earlier. “And the ‘raffes!”

“Giraffes?”

“Yeah!”

Y/n tugged on Natasha’s sleeve and pointed to part of the mural covering the wall to her right. “They have those here?”

The colourful sea creatures were definitely oversaturated; pink sharks didn’t sit comfortably with Natasha. But she followed Y/n finger to a sparkly blue turtle and smiled, noticing how Isla and Wanda also did the same.

“I saw a sign for an aquarium around the corner,” Wanda said. “There could be turtles in there.”

“We go!”

“Now hold on a minute-“ Wanda started, but telling two sugared-up three years olds on a mission to slow down was a fruitless effort. Natasha grabbed both of their tiny wrists and gently tugged them back to the table, earning little angry glares from both girls.

“What did we say about running off?”

“But-“

“Not buts, Y/n. What did we say?”

“Don’t run off,” they said in unison, the floor now much more interesting than Natasha who wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok munchkin, just wait 2 minutes and we’ll be ready.”

Wanda and Natasha packed up quickly and headed towards the aquarium side of the zoo, eyes glued to the two little girls in front of them whose hands were tightly clasped together. They may have their favourite parent and stay glued to their side, but Y/n and Isla’s bond truly was unbreakable. Starkly different, yet inseparable.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #fanfic #double the trouble au

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