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daylighted · 2 months ago

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baby's first kiss! — dean winchester x baby!reader

summary dean finally kisses baby, really kisses her, and now she thinks it's the only thing she wants to do for the rest of her life — find baby's timeline here!

after so long of having you around, it slipped from dean's mind that things could still be new for you. a truly shitty motel room once had a box tv that your mind couldn't wrap around the concept of, you'd been truly baffled by the sight of a real ticking clock and not the digital one on dean's phone, and you'd never been kissed.

never been kissed. what kind of guy was dean, being so sweet on you, and never having kissed you to show it?

it'd been a simple little thing. a peck before bed in a dimly lit bedroom, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp beside his bed. you had your own room in the bunker, but you didn't sleep well without him, and he was never capable of denying you when you gave him that look.

the look you gave him right before he leaned in. big glossy eyes, a sleepy pout drooping your lips, love and adoration melting the expression right into your features.

dean just... leaned in, and planted a kiss right on the curve of your lips, with nothing but a, "goodnight, pretty girl." he reaches behind him to pull the string on his lamp, casting the room into darkness, and then further into the dark when his eyes closed.

he thought that was it. donezo. over. a short story with a happy ending, prepping the both of you for another night of you completely entangled in his arms.

the weight of your body settling on top of him forces his eyes open, a little oof leaving his lips on an exhale. he blinks once, twice, three times to focus in the dark, and no, he'd been right with his first assessment: your face was nose-to-nose with him.

"what was that?" you ask, the innocence in your voice another thing that never failed to make his heart swell in his chest.

dean blinked once more time for good measure. "that was the lamp turning off."

your hand collides with his chest, just hard enough for him to feel it through his t-shirt. the corner of his mouth quirks in amusement. "no. the other thing. where you put your mouth on me."

now, he's fully smirking. he had no right to take advantage of your innocence like this, even if it was just to chuckle a little at your wording, but he couldn't help himself. he was sleepy, you were on top of him, and dean was nothing but a man, in the end.

"you want me to do it again?" he asks, tilting his head to mimic the confused stance of your own.

"no," you huff, in that unconvincing way that told him without being able to see that you were blushing. his fingers come up to pinch one of your cheeks and, sure enough, it was warm beneath his fingertips. "i wanna know what it was."

dean tilts his head up enough to brush his mouth against yours, his eyes searching the both of yours for any indication of hesitation. as usual, all he finds is the deep curiosity that makes him feel like putty. putty in your hands for you to play with, and you do. always do.

"that was a goodnight kiss," he whispers, just lightly enough against your mouth to feel his lips tingle at the slight pressure. "it's something you do when you love someone."

your hands cup his face before he can process they've moved, squishing his cheeks between your palms. "should i kiss you goodnight?"

yes, dean's head screams it at the top of its lungs, god, yes. but he's behaved, and civil, and honestly? if this was something you wanted to explore, he wasn't going to rush it. you were probably the one person who'd ever gotten dean to take a moment and slow down. "do you want to?"

"yes." dean could have wept. "and then i will go kiss sam goodnight."

dean could have wept — for a different reason. "no. don't do that."

"but i love him." he can hear the defiance in your tone, the fierce irritation that the conclusion you'd drawn from his words was wrong. your fingers curl into his shirt, your nose firmly pressed to his, and dean wished with all of his being that he had the strength to entertain your confusion better than this, but he's a little distracted by the feel of your legs framing his ribs and your lips tickling his with each word.

"different type of love," he tries to explain, even though his voice is a little strained and more than a little muffled through the smush of his cheeks in your hands. "the kind of love that makes you feel like you're gonna die."

you blink, taken aback. for a second, your hands on his face loosen, but then they're right back, puckering his lips like a fish with nothing but your little hands' strength. "like i'm gonna die?"

he lifts a hand between the both of you, tapping your chest. "heart races, thoughts full of the person, can't breathe." he tries to smile, and he must look ridiculous, because you laugh like the sun lives within you. "symptoms of being in love."

slowly, your smile mimics what his would look like if you weren't holding his face captive. it's bright and radiant, lighting up your face in gold. "i am in love."

"i know you are," he carefully extracts your hands from his face with a gentle grip, his eyes downturned to watch your mouth, so close but so far away, on the precipice of kissing him but not quite there yet, "and i love you."

the words leave his mouth in a breath. he doesn't know how long that thought has been trapped in his mind, begging to be set free, but now that it was out, he'd never been more sure of something. he loved you, and it set him free.

your head tilts down just enough to meet his lips, kissing him slowly but surely, with all the confidence of a girl who's done this before, even though he knows you haven't. you're attached to his hip, his arm, his life — you had no time to kiss anyone but him, he knew it, so where this skill came from was beyond him. but dean wasn't going to argue with it, not when you were warm, sat on his lap and holding his hands on his chest.

you break apart like you don't really want to, a huff being the first thing to leave your mouth, as if he personally had been the one extricating you away from him. "i like it." for the first time in your life as his personal little (pretty) leech, you sound small and uncertain, a confession whispered to the wind in hopes that the words don't get crushed by his fists.

"yeah?" he shifts a little beneath you, just so he can sit up and reach you a little better. "i like it, too."

"do we have to go to sleep now?" you ask, just as tentative, and all dean wants to do is sweep you into his arms and poke at your sides until you laugh and smile again, just to see his baby back, but this shyer version of you is beginning to capture his heart as much as the typical you does.

dean cocks an eyebrow. "you don't want to go to sleep? i mean, that's fine n' all, but..."

"you said it's a goodnight kiss." the authority is back in your voice, those beautiful lips in an aggravated pout. "so do we have to sleep?"

dean huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "you can kiss for fun, baby. doesn't have to be for goodnight. that's just... a variation of kisses."

"i wanna learn all of the variations." and by god, even if he wanted to, you spoke so strongly that dean took it not as a wish but as a command.

he's breathless, now, even though he's trying very hard to be the all-knowing instructor god you've always seemed to think he was. "you don't want to sleep." a question said as a statement.

"i already said it twice now." an answer said as an argument.

"just wanna stay up all night n' kiss me, is that it?"

you roll your eyes, another little gesture that makes him grin. you've always pulled his smile out of him like you had them in your back pocket, so easy to access. "is it not obvious?"

dean can't help it this time. he huffs out a bout of laughter, his hands closing around your thighs, and takes your top lip between his in a quick kiss. "god yes," he breathes into your mouth, and any exhaustion is gone and forgotten in the wind as your lips properly connect with his once again.

notes. this was long overdue!! hope you guys like it teehehe it was very fun to write. i hope the baby!reader hype has not fully died & u guys will still love this </3

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @ultravi0lence14 @bruisedfig @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @samslovebug @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @angelblqde @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @nperoconelcositoarriba @bejeweledinterludes @pieandflannel @pearlsvie @viluren @h8aaz @yulianie @angelicjackles @lanasgirlfr @veyveyx @itszarinaig @tinas111 @briisbananass @spiritkissin @skyfaeriex @deanswidow @aurevina @jensenacklesballsack @honeyroots @angelicp0etry @blossomingorchids @idk6505 @irecalllatenovember1 @mahi-wayy @k-slla @lilyyyjcb @maeji-may @rositaslabyrinth

#dahlia's ☆ journal #baby!reader #dean winchester x baby!reader #sam winchester x baby!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jared padalecki #jared fucking padalecki #supernatural #spn #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x you

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lil-isha · 7 months ago

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Can people please give me some Child!reader fics 🙏😭 I think I've read them all. I NEED CHILD!READER FICS, I NEVER GOT TO HAVE A CHILDHOOD. I need them all

Kid!reader, Toddler!reader, baby!reader, child!reader, teen!reader, platonic!reader, Daughter!reader, son!reader, sister!reader, brother!reader. I DONT CARE, JUST GIVE THEM TOO ME‼️

I NEED PLATONIC FICS

#reader insert #child reader #child!reader #fem!reader #female reader #male reader #platonic #platonic!reader #kid!reader #kid reader #toddler!reader #toddler reader #baby reader #baby!reader #i need child!reader fics #feed me #please #teen!reader #teen reader

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aspenmissing · 5 months ago

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Could you do arcane characters reacting to finding abandoned baby!reader? Pls?

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ?

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ

7274 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙᴀʙʏ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴀʀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ!

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

Piltover was quiet on this particular night, with only the soft sounds of the wind and distant footsteps breaking the silence. The streets were blanketed in a fresh layer of snow, casting an ethereal glow over the city. Jayce had just left the workshop, his mind buzzing with thoughts of new inventions and blueprints. The weight of the day hung on his shoulders, and all he longed for was the warmth of home and the solace of a cup of tea by the fire.

His path took him through an alleyway he’d often passed by without a second thought, the path worn but familiar. Yet tonight, something was different. A faint sound cut through the quiet—a weak, heart-wrenching cry that made Jayce’s heart skip a beat.

“Is someone there?” he called, his voice breaking the stillness, but the only response was the soft, pitiful cry that seemed to echo against the stone walls of the alley.

His brow furrowed in concern. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something in the sound caught his attention. Without another thought, Jayce stepped forward, moving deeper into the alley, his boots crunching against the snow beneath him. The distant streetlights barely illuminated the narrow passage, casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to twist and shift in the dark.

Then, he saw it.

In the far corner of the alley, huddled against the cold stone of a building, was a small, fragile form—a bundle of ragged cloth, shaking violently. The faint cry came again, though softer now, almost as though the child had no strength left to keep wailing.

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. He quickly crossed the distance between them, his pulse quickening. Kneeling beside you, he saw the tiny figure wrapped in a torn cloth that looked as though it hadn’t seen a wash in months. Your face, little more than a faint outline against the dark fabric, was flushed red from the cold, your lips trembling as another shiver wracked your tiny body.

He reached for you, instinct overriding everything else. “Hey, it’s okay,” Jayce murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I’ve got you.”

He gently scooped you into his arms, feeling the cold that had seeped deep into your skin. You whimpered in his arms, your tiny fists shaking in the air as if reaching for something. Jayce’s heart broke. Who would leave a child out here, alone and freezing? The thought sent a sharp pang of anger through him, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming need to get you warm and safe.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he whispered, cradling you against his chest. His coat was thick and warm, and he wrapped it around you as best he could, pulling you close as though to shield you from the bitter wind.

Your tiny form shivered in his embrace, and Jayce’s mind raced, his heart pounding as he thought about how he could help you. He’d been cold before— he knew the sharp, biting chill that crept into your bones and the exhaustion that followed. But he’d never imagined something like this—finding a baby, alone and vulnerable in the freezing cold of night.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Jayce stood, holding you tightly against him. He moved quickly, almost running, his boots pounding against the cobblestones as he rushed towards his home. The thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t found you gnawed at him.

His home wasn’t far, a simple place with modest furnishings but enough to offer comfort and warmth. The fire in the hearth crackled as he rushed through the door, slamming it shut behind him to block out the cold. The familiar warmth of the room wrapped around him, and Jayce immediately moved to the nearby sofa, laying you down gently on the soft cushions. The contrast between the warmth of the room and the chill that still clung to your skin made Jayce’s heart ache.

He grabbed a thick wool blanket from a chair nearby and draped it carefully over you, but the sight of your small, trembling form still pulled at his heart. There was no time to waste—he needed to get you warm, to make sure you were going to be okay.

Jayce’s hands worked quickly, though with a careful gentleness. He pulled off his own coat, draping it over you before going to the fireplace to stoke the fire higher. He didn’t want to leave you alone for too long, so his movements were quick and purposeful.

As the fire crackled, Jayce grabbed a fresh cloth, dipping it in warm water, and began gently wiping your cheeks and brow. Your breathing had slowed, but your skin was still cold to the touch. He murmured reassurances to you as he worked, soft words meant to calm both you and himself.

“Stay with me, little one,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

Once he was certain you were warm enough, he turned his attention to your hunger. There was milk in his fridge, and though Jayce was inexperienced with children, he figured it would have to do. He grabbed a sippy cup bottle he had been using for an experiment, relieved he’d decided to clean it earlier. He warmed it on the stove, his mind racing with thoughts of how to care for you. His heart felt full with something he hadn’t expected—a deep, protective instinct that surged as he prepared to feed you.

When he returned to your side, you were still awake, your little eyes blinking up at him. The sight made his heart swell. Carefully, Jayce cradled you in his arms again, gently guiding the bottle to your lips. You took it eagerly, your small hands grasping at the bottle, as if you instinctively trusted him.

“Good girl,” Jayce murmured, smiling down at you. “You’re so strong.”

Once you finished, he wiped your chin with his thumb, chuckling softly at the little mess you’d made. The warmth of the fire, the milk, and Jayce’s steady presence seemed to lull you into a peaceful sleep.

As Jayce sat back, holding you close in his arms, he couldn’t help but reflect on how his life had changed in a single moment. He had been alone—focused on his work, consumed by the demands of his inventions and the weight of his ambitions. But now, with you in his arms, he realised that there was something far more important than any invention. There was this—this fragile, helpless life that needed him.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Jayce whispered, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll take care of you, no matter what. You’re family now.”

And with that promise, he held you close, the warmth of the fire and the safety of his home wrapping around you both as the snow continued to fall outside, a new chapter beginning for the two of you.

VIKTOR

The streets of Zaun were darker than usual that night, the usual hum of machines and the faint clatter of industry buzzing in the distance. Viktor, as always, found himself traversing the lower city, his mind consumed by thoughts of his latest invention, a device that could bring the promise of progress to both Piltover and Zaun. The cold air bit at his skin, but Viktor paid it no mind—he was used to the chill, as he was used to the struggle of progress in Zaun.

His cane clicked softly against the cobblestones with every step, the sound blending with the constant hum of the city. Viktor’s body bore the marks of his years of work—the brace on his leg creaked with each movement, and the support of his back brace was a necessary burden. He had built so much, but his body, strained and fragile, bore the weight of it all.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed the bundle at first. It was tucked against the wall of an old, dilapidated building, the kind that seemed to be a part of Zaun’s very bones. At first, he thought it might be just another stray animal, some forgotten debris, but then came the sound that pierced through his concentration—the faint cry of a child. Soft. Fragile.

Viktor’s steps faltered, and his gaze snapped toward the source of the noise.

A child? Here, in the heart of Zaun?

He paused, his breath catching in his chest as he scanned the alley. The darkness seemed to stretch around him, the shadows deep and unyielding. There was no sign of anyone else—no frantic parent, no guardian, no one to claim the child as their own. Just you, wrapped in ragged cloth, your tiny body trembling in the cold.

The world around Viktor seemed to slow. His sharp eyes took in every detail: your small, vulnerable form, the way your hands clenched instinctively at the cloth, the faint red tint of your chilled cheeks. You were so small, so helpless. His heart, usually so guarded and focused solely on the pursuit of progress, tightened in his chest. The cruelty of Zaun had claimed many lives, but a baby? This was a different kind of tragedy.

Viktor took a step back, his cane tapping against the ground as he moved, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. His life had been dedicated to progress, to building a future where suffering like this would not exist, yet here it was—raw, unrelenting, right in front of him. He had never been one to nurture or care for others, but in this moment, something stirred within him. He knew he couldn’t just walk away. Not now.

The cry of your tiny voice grew louder, more desperate, and with each sob, Viktor felt something he hadn’t expected—a deep, unexplainable sense of responsibility. A need to protect. He hesitated for a long moment, his thoughts racing. It was a risk, taking you. He had no experience with children—hell, he barely had experience caring for himself at times—but the weight of your cries, the weight of your life in his hands, made it impossible to turn away.

With a quiet sigh, Viktor muttered to himself, “It appears I have no choice.”

He approached you cautiously, his movements deliberate. As he knelt down, the sharp whir of his cane echoed in the silence of the alley, a contrast to the softness of the moment. With great care, he extended his arm, gently lifting you from the cold ground. Your eyes fluttered open at the sudden movement, wide and full of confusion. When you looked at him, your gaze seemed to hold something innocent, something trusting, and in that moment, Viktor felt a strange connection.

“You are safe now,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure—himself or you.

You whimpered softly, but you didn’t struggle. Your tiny body, bundled in the tattered cloth, was still cold to the touch, and Viktor couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He could feel the chill in his bones, but to see you, so small and frail, exposed to it—it was almost too much to bear. His legs, encumbered by the brace that supported his weakened joints, felt heavy, but he powered through the pain, moving with the kind of resolve he only ever seemed to have when faced with an impossible decision.

He straightened, using his cane to support his weight as he carefully cradled you in his arms. The brace on his leg creaked with every step, and the pressure on his back made him wince, but he ignored the discomfort. He had no choice but to keep moving forward. His thoughts were focused solely on getting you somewhere safe.

As Viktor walked, his mind wandered briefly to the name he would give you. He didn’t even know if you had one—who would leave a child here, alone, in the cold? But as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your little hands curled slightly around his coat, he decided.

“Y/N,” he murmured softly, as though testing the name. “I think that suits you.”

He wasn’t sure why he had chosen it, or why it felt so right. Perhaps it was because he had always believed that names carried meaning, that they defined people in ways that no other word could. And for you, this name felt like a promise—one of protection, one of care. A promise Viktor wasn’t sure he could keep, but one he would try to fulfill nonetheless.

“I’ll take you somewhere safe” he whispered again, more to himself than to you, as he began walking toward Piltover. The journey was long, and the weight of your small body in his arms was a reminder of just how fragile life was. It wasn’t just the streets of Zaun that made him feel the cold; it was the knowledge that so many others had been left behind, forgotten. But not you. Not now.

JAYVIK

It was a typical afternoon for Jayce—well, as typical as life in Piltover could be. He’d just wrapped up a marathon of meetings and was on his way to the lab, eager to discuss some new ideas with Viktor. His steps were brisk, confident, his mind racing with plans for the next big breakthrough. But then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Out of nowhere, a woman appeared, breathless and panicked. Before Jayce could say a word, she practically shoved a small bundle into his arms. “Take care of her!” she gasped, turning and bolting off into the crowd like a phantom, disappearing without a trace.

Jayce stood there, frozen, holding a tiny baby in his arms. His eyes widened as the baby blinked up at him, her face utterly serene, as if she hadn’t just been handed over to the most bewildered person in all of Piltover. Jayce glanced back at the crowd, but the woman was long gone.

“Uh… excuse me?” Jayce muttered, his voice more to himself than to anyone else. He then looked down at the baby, looking into her eyes. “Uhm... Hello?"

Still unsure of what to do, Jayce adjusted the baby in his arms, attempting to look somewhat comfortable, even though his internal panic was through the roof. The weight of her in his arms was oddly reassuring, like a grounding force. It wasn’t until he started walking toward the lab that it hit him: He had no idea how to care for a baby. Wasn’t he supposed to have training for this? Or at least some sort of basic manual?

Jayce reached the lab, pushing the door open with his elbow. Viktor was hunched over his workbench, entirely absorbed in his latest project, his cane leaning against the table nearby. Jayce walked in, trying to look nonchalant, but the baby shifted in his arms, making soft cooing noises. Viktor didn’t look up.

“Well, Viktor,” Jayce began, tone a bit more strained than he intended. “I’ve acquired a baby. Not sure if it’s permanent, but... here she is.” He shifted the bundle, clearly still getting used to the tiny form in his arms.

Viktor didn’t flinch. His mind was already too deep into his calculations, completely ignoring Jayce’s dramatic entrance. He continued working, lost in his world of gears and wires. Jayce sighed, glancing down at the baby, who was now staring up at him, as if wondering the same thing he was: What the hell just happened?

“Viktor!” Jayce raised his voice a little, just enough to get his attention. “What exactly am I supposed to do with her?”

Viktor’s hands froze. He didn’t turn around immediately, just processing the words. Then, slowly, he twisted in his chair, finally noticing the small bundle in Jayce’s arms. His brow furrowed as he took in the scene. Jayce, looking utterly unprepared, was holding a baby. Viktor blinked, his gaze widening.

“You… have a child.” Viktor’s accented voice was flat, but there was a flicker of amusement beneath it. “I didn’t realise you were that committed to your... new projects.”

Jayce, still adjusting to the reality of the situation, gave Viktor a sheepish grin. “Well, she’s not exactly my ‘project,’ but a woman just thrust her into my arms and ran away. I didn’t get much of a choice"

Viktor eyed him with mild disbelief. “And you thought to bring her here? To the lab?”

Jayce, now feeling the full weight of the absurdity of it all, chuckled awkwardly. “Well, where else was I supposed to take her? Besides, she looks like she might be your responsibility too now, right?”

Viktor stared at him for a moment, the smirk on the edge of his lips barely visible. “You’re the one who’s going to have to deal with the shrieking and dirty diapers, Jayce, not me.”

Jayce shot him a look. “Yeah, I definitely didn’t sign up for this. But now I’m here, and she’s here…” He glanced down at the baby, who was now staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “So... what do we do with her, Vik”

Viktor paused, running a hand through his hair, his cane resting against the bench. “I suppose we could look into some kind of care routine. For now, though, I’m not sure what kind of expertise I can offer. I’m not exactly a nanny.”

Jayce let out a deep sigh, shifting the baby yet again. “I didn’t even know I was capable of holding a baby. I feel like I might drop her at any second.”

Viktor walked over, eyes scanning the situation with a hint of concern hiding behind his sarcastic tone. “Well, she does seem to have latched on to you. Maybe you do have some hidden paternal instincts.”

Jayce rolled his eyes. “Please, Vik. This is a disaster.”

The baby made a soft noise, like a little giggle. Jayce glanced down, and to his surprise, the baby was actually smiling up at him. A tiny hand reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging slightly.

Jayce looked at Viktor, wide-eyed. “Did she just—?”

Viktor, trying to hold back a chuckle, said, “It seems she has chosen you, Jayce. You’re her new father now.”

Jayce sighed, defeated. “Well, looks like I’m not getting out of this one. Great.”

Viktor’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “Perhaps I should offer a little guidance, then. We could make a few adjustments to her care routine... Maybe even design a more efficient formula dispenser.”

Jayce shot Viktor an incredulous look. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Viktor, now fully enjoying the moment, shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? I’m always looking for improvements.”

Jayce chuckled in spite of himself. The lab, with its machinery and gadgets, suddenly felt warmer, more alive. As the baby cooed softly in his arms, he couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this wasn’t so bad. And perhaps, just perhaps, Viktor’s teasing wasn’t so unwelcome after all.

“Guess we’ll figure it out together,” Jayce muttered, glancing down at the tiny bundle in his arms with a soft smile.

Viktor’s expression softened as he leans against the workbench, his cane resting against the table. He looked at Jayce, who was now leaning against the workbench besides him, still holding the tiny baby in his arms. There was a quiet tension between them, the weight of the situation still settling in.

“I suppose so,” Viktor said with a sigh, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Just don’t expect me to change any diapers, Jayce. You’re on your own with that.”

Jayce smirked back, the corners of his mouth twitching into a rare grin. “Well, I didn’t exactly sign up for this, either. But I think I can manage.”

For a moment, the two of them stood in a comfortable silence, both adjusting to the strange reality of their new situation. Jayce glanced down at the baby, her small form so fragile in his arms, her calm presence oddly comforting. She was looking up at him, her eyes wide with curiosity, as if trying to make sense of her surroundings.

“What should we name her?” Jayce asked quietly, glancing over at Viktor for some input.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the question. “You’re asking me to name a child?”

Jayce shrugged, still holding the baby gently. “Well, she didn’t exactly come with instructions.”

Viktor let out a small sigh, his lips curling into a slight, amused smirk. “I suppose… Y/N. It’s simple, but it suits her. Strong, gentle.”

Jayce looked down at the baby once more, his eyes softening as he tested the name. “Y/N…” he murmured, almost to himself. It felt right—simple but meaningful, a name that carried both strength and tenderness.

“Y/N,” Jayce repeated, his voice taking on a rare warmth. He looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms again, feeling a sense of responsibility settle in. “Alright, Y/N. I guess we’re in this together.”

Viktor stood beside him, his gaze lingering on the baby. He gently reached out with a finger, brushing it lightly against Y/N’s cheek. The touch was soft, almost tender, as if he, too, was coming to terms with the new reality.

As Viktor’s finger lingered against Y/N’s skin, Jayce’s expression softened. For the first time in a long while, the lab felt less like a place of intense work and more like a home—a place where something new was beginning.

And in that quiet moment, with both men standing side by side, the strange chaos of the day seemed to settle into a surprising sense of calm. Jayce, Viktor, and little Y/N—a new chapter in their lives had just begun.

VANDER

The streets of Zaun had always been unpredictable. One moment they were alive with the energy of its people, and the next, they were smothered in the oppressive silence after a failed rebellion. Vander, a man who had seen it all in this crumbling city, was no stranger to the aftermath of violence, but this time, something was different.

The sounds of chaos had barely faded when Vander stumbled upon the wreckage of a collapsed building. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and blood, but there, amongst the rubble, something caught his eye. A soft cry, faint but unmistakable, echoed from the twisted remains. His heart skipped a beat as he pushed through the debris, his hands trembling as they reached for the small figure beneath the rubble.

It was a baby. A tiny girl, barely old enough to be away from her mother’s care, and yet here she was, alone. Her mother lay lifeless beside her, a victim of the violence that had taken so many lives. Vander’s stomach turned, but he didn’t hesitate. Carefully, he scooped the baby up in his arms, her small form looking so fragile against his broad chest.

He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t a father. He had his own responsibilities, his own battles to fight, but this child... she didn’t deserve to be alone. The weight of the decision pressed heavily on him. What kind of life would she have in Zaun, with the city falling apart around them?

As he made his way back to the house, cradling the baby in his arms, his thoughts were a storm of confusion and concern. Felicia had always been the one to take the reins when it came to caring for children. Vi, barely a year old, was still young and needed constant care. Vander couldn't help but wonder how they would adjust to the new addition. How could he care for this girl when his own life felt so uncertain?

Felicia was busy at the stove when he walked in, her eyes immediately narrowing as she saw the bundle in his arms.

“Vander?” she asked softly, her voice laced with surprise. “What’s this?”

He hesitated, looking down at the baby, whose eyes were wide with innocence, unaware of the violence that had just claimed her mother’s life. He sighed heavily, rubbing his brow. “I found her, Felicia. After the fight. Her mother didn’t make it.” He paused for a moment, unsure of how to explain. “I... I don’t know what to do with her.”

Felicia, ever the practical one, took in the situation with a quiet assessment. Her gaze softened as she approached, her hands instinctively reaching out to take the baby from Vander’s arms.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “You’ve got a good heart, Vander. She’s lucky you found her.”

Vander watched as Felicia adjusted the baby in her arms with practiced ease, the same gentle movements she had used when handling Vi when she was a baby. He felt a pang in his chest. He wasn’t sure he was cut out for this. He wasn’t a father, not really. He was a protector, a fighter, but this was a new challenge. How could he take care of a child who had already lost so much?

Felicia glanced up at him, noticing his uncertainty. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t worry about it too much.” She began to rock the baby gently in her arms, offering Vander a reassuring smile. “The first thing you need to know is that she’ll need feeding. Don’t forget that, or you’ll be in for a rough night.”

Vander nodded, his brow furrowing in concentration as he listened. Felicia was always the voice of reason, the calm to his storm. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

As Felicia spoke more about feeding and settling the baby, Vander couldn’t help but steal glances at her. There was something so delicate, so helpless about the tiny girl in Felicia’s arms. The idea that he was now responsible for another life, one so vulnerable in this cruel world, unsettled him. But the more he watched Felicia, the more confident he became in his ability to do this.

He could protect her. He could provide a safe place for her, just as he had always done for the people in his life.

Vi’s tiny voice echoed from the other room, the sound of her giggling as she tried to walk, still unsteady on her feet. Vander turned to look at her through the open door, his heart swelling with love for the little girl who had been a part of his life since her birth. She was still so young, her wide eyes full of wonder as she explored the world around her. He had always been her protector, but now, this new child needed him too.

Felicia handed the baby back to him, and this time, he took her with a bit more confidence. The little one squirmed in his arms, making small cooing noises, and Vander’s heart melted. He hadn’t realised it before, but the connection he felt for this child was already beginning to form, even if it was just the beginning.

“What’s her name?” Felicia asked, breaking his thoughts.

Vander hesitated again, looking down at the tiny face in his arms. He hadn’t even thought about that yet. “I... don’t know. She doesn’t have anyone left, Felicia. It doesn’t feel right naming her after someone who’s gone.”

Felicia smiled softly, her eyes warm. “Then you name her, Vander. She’s yours now, too. Give her a name that means something to you.”

Vander looked down at the baby once more, feeling the weight of the moment. He could hear the sounds of Vi’s laughter in the next room, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, and the occasional soft squeal of a toy being thrown to the side. This little girl would grow up alongside her and he would do everything in his power to give her a life filled with love and safety.

His mind drifted for a moment, and then he spoke softly, the name feeling right as it left his lips. “Y/N. She’s Y/N.”

Felicia’s eyes softened with approval. “Y/N it is. A good name.”

Vander gently rocked the baby, her soft breaths filling the silence of the room. As the first rays of light filtered through the windows, he felt something shift inside him. He wasn’t just Vander the enforcer, the protector of the Undercity. Now, he was a father, and this child—this little girl—his little girl—would be his to care for, his to protect.

And with that, Vander silently vowed to give Y/N the life she deserved, to raise her as one of his own, with love and protection in a world that had taken so much from so many.

SILCO

In the heart of Zaun, the air was thick with tension as Silco and his men faced off against a rival faction in the dimly lit alleyways of the undercity. The deal, once promising, had rapidly spiralled into chaos, with gunfire ricocheting off the grimy walls and explosions shaking the very foundation of the city. Silco’s gaze never wavered from the task at hand. His mind was a steel trap, calculating, assessing. He barked orders to his henchmen, directing them to hold their ground.

"We can't afford to lose this," he snarled, voice edged with irritation as his men worked tirelessly to push back the ambush. His hands clenched at his sides, not from fear or panic, but from the growing frustration that this wasn’t going according to plan. Explosions rattled the nearby buildings, sending bits of debris raining down, but Silco stayed focused, a storm of calculations swirling behind his steely eyes.

Then, as the violence unfolded, Silco’s sharp ears caught something unexpected—a faint sound, so soft at first, it seemed like an illusion. The high-pitched cry of an infant.

For a heartbeat, Silco thought he had misheard. But the cry rang out again, unmistakable. A baby.

His eyes snapped toward the source of the sound, his usual cold expression betraying an emotion that was far more vulnerable—surprise, maybe even something softer. He had no time for innocence. No time for the helpless. He had a city to control, power to grasp. And yet, this sound, this fragile call for help, resonated somewhere deep within him.

Without thinking, he ordered his closest men to continue fighting.

"Hold them off. I'll be back. Keep them distracted, do whatever you must," Silco commanded, his tone firm but sharp, leaving no room for questioning. His men hesitated for a moment, confusion flickering in their eyes.

"Boss, what about—?"

"No questions," Silco interrupted, his voice steady, commanding. "Get to work."

His body was a blur of movement as he darted through the crumbling building, dodging debris and stepping carefully over shattered glass. The sounds of distant gunfire and shouting barely registered as his mind zeroed in on the cries, growing louder with each step. The building around him was unstable, shaking with every explosion. Yet Silco pressed on, his every movement deliberate and purposeful.

At the far end of the room, amidst the wreckage, he saw it—a small crib, overturned in the chaos. A bundle of old, frayed fabric sat next to it, the sound of the child’s cries filling the room. He knelt carefully, his heart inexplicably stilling at the sight of the tiny, trembling infant. The baby’s face was scrunched with distress, its small body shaking as it cried for someone to help.

For a moment, Silco stood frozen. He had no use for softness, no room for care when it came to the world of Zaun. Yet, in this moment, he couldn’t look away. There was something about this fragile life, so delicate, that made his usual ruthless exterior crack, just slightly.

His heart, an organ he thought he had long since abandoned, stirred with an unfamiliar sensation. He couldn’t explain it, nor did he want to. Silco was a man of control, but this was something that defied control.

He moved quickly, scooping the baby up in his arms, holding her close as if he could protect her from the crumbling world around them. The cries lessened as his presence seemed to calm her. It was unsettling, the way she responded to him, but he didn’t dwell on it. The building was collapsing, and he needed to get out.

With the infant cradled securely in his arms, Silco made his way back into the fray. The sound of gunfire rang out once more, but he paid no mind. His men moved to form a protective barrier around him as they made their way towards the alley, ensuring no harm would come to their boss or the child in his arms.

As they moved swiftly through the maze of ruined streets, Silco glanced down at the baby. Her tiny hand gripped his finger tightly, her soft skin warm against his cold, calloused hand. His expression softened for a split second—his gaze lingering on her face, something akin to protectiveness flickering in his eyes before he quickly masked it. The weight of the child, so small, seemed to add a new layer of responsibility he wasn’t used to.

They arrived at the Last Drop, and Silco’s men ushered him inside, and as he walked through the door, his eyes caught sight of Powder sitting on the far side of the room, her eyes wide and curious. She had been waiting for his return, the explosion of the earlier chaos still reverberating in the air.

Powder’s gaze flicked immediately to the baby in Silco’s arms, her brow furrowing as she watched them carefully, questioning, uncertain.

"Who’s this?" Powder’s voice was small but filled with confusion, her eyes darting between Silco and the baby.

Silco paused for a moment, his hand tightening around the baby, almost protectively. “She’s… someone I need to look after,” he said, his voice softer than usual, more reluctant than he intended.

The room was silent for a long moment, Powder staring at the baby with wide, curious eyes, her brow furrowed in confusion. She tilted her head, taking in the small bundle Silco was cradling with an intensity that seemed to grow with every passing second. The silence stretched, and then Powder’s voice broke through.

She frowned slightly, her expression thoughtful. “She doesn’t have a name, does she?”

Silco’s gaze flicked briefly to the baby, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. Names weren’t important to him—not in the way Powder seemed to imply. People were tools, pawns in his game for control, not individuals deserving of such personal things.

But the way Powder spoke, the way her eyes held a softness he hadn’t seen before, made him pause. Something tugged at him, a fleeting emotion that was hard to pinpoint, but it lingered in the air between them.

“She’s just a baby," Silco muttered, as if it should be obvious, yet the doubt in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

Powder’s frown deepened. “She needs a name," she said, the quiet certainty in her voice almost like a gentle reprimand. She took a few steps closer, her tiny hands reaching out towards the baby, and her gaze softened. “She can’t just be… nobody.”

For a long moment, Silco watched her. He didn’t quite understand it, but he couldn’t ignore the weight of her words. After a long silence, he exhaled, the sharp edges of his usual coldness dulling just a little.

“Fine," Silco said with a slight shrug, trying to brush off the moment as if it were unimportant. “What would you name her, then?”

Powder considered the baby for a moment, her eyes thoughtful, then she glanced up at Silco, a small, tentative smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Y/N,” Powder said softly, her voice warm, as though the name itself was a declaration. "Y/N sounds like she’s... meant to be."

Silco didn’t respond at first. He just stood there, staring at the baby in his arms, the weight of her smallness grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

“Y/N,” he echoed, the name settling in his mind. It was strange. Foreign. But it felt... right, in a way he couldn’t explain. Something about it felt final, like it belonged to the fragile life in his arms. Something he hadn’t known he needed.

“Y/N,” he repeated again, this time with the faintest trace of a promise lingering in his voice.

POWDER/JINX

Jinx was skipping through the streets of Zaun, her wild hair bouncing with every step as she hummed a tune only she seemed to know. The city was her playground, and today, just like every other day, she had a dozen schemes brewing in her mind, each one more chaotic than the last. Explosions, pranks, and a little bit of mayhem were the order of the day, and she was loving every minute of it.

She darted between alleyways, giggling to herself, and tossed a few explosive doodads behind her as she skipped away, watching with delight as they detonated in showers of sparks. It was perfect. Zaun was perfect.

But then, something caught her attention. At first, it was so small and insignificant that she almost walked right past it. A bundle of cloth, tucked into a corner near some rubble, barely visible behind a pile of discarded crates. But then—there it was again—a faint sound, a little whimper.

Jinx stopped mid-prance, her head snapping to the side, eyes narrowing in curiosity. She took a few steps closer, her heart thumping in her chest. She peered down at the small bundle.

A baby.

Jinx tilted her head, eyeing the infant with a mix of curiosity and confusion. She’d never been one for babies, but something about this one seemed… off. It was alone. Why is it all alone?

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Maybe someone had left it here? Maybe it was a trap—one of those strange Zaun things she never quite understood. But before she could give it another thought, the sounds of barking and growling interrupted her musings.

She turned sharply, her bright blue eyes locking onto a group of stray dogs coming around the corner. The mangy pack was heading straight for the baby, their teeth bared, growling low in their throats. The hairs on the back of Jinx’s neck stood on end.

“Uh-oh,” Jinx muttered under her breath, her mischievous grin fading for the first time that day. Without missing a beat, she sprinted forward, her boots thudding against the cobblestones.

With a wild scream and a manic twinkle in her eye, Jinx flung herself into the pack of dogs, arms flailing as she let out a battle cry. “Shoo! Go away, you ugly mutts!”

The dogs yelped in confusion and fear, scattering in all directions as Jinx jumped up and down, flailing her arms like a lunatic. The moment they were gone, she turned her attention back to the baby, who, of course, had started crying.

“Great. Now look what you’ve done, you little screamer,” Jinx said, crouching down with her arms outstretched dramatically. “Couldn’t just stay quiet, could you?”

Jinx scooped the baby up effortlessly, holding her as though she were a prized possession, though her wild, erratic movements made it seem like the baby was more of an afterthought. Y/N’s tiny fists were clenched, and her crying only seemed to get louder as she was cradled in Jinx’s arms.

“Shhh! Quiet down!” Jinx cooed, her voice far too loud for a baby’s sensitive ears. She bounced on her heels, rocking Y/N back and forth. “Come on, no need to be all cry-y-y about it! Everything’s fine! I saved your butt from those gnarly dogs! You owe me, little one!"

The baby’s crying only escalated, and Jinx sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, alright!” Jinx grumbled. She lifted the baby higher, her grin returning with a hint of sweetness. “I get it. You're scared, you're hungry, you're probably thinking 'What the heck is going on?' and honestly, same. But I’m Jinx! The one and only Jinx! And I’m gonna make sure you’re safe... for now. So quit crying already, it’s makin' my head hurt!”

Y/N’s cries didn’t stop, but they slowed, her tiny body pressing against Jinx as she tried to calm down. Jinx huffed, crossing her arms with a pout, clearly frustrated but secretly amused.

“Well, that’s as good as I’m gonna get,” she grinned, tapping the baby’s tiny nose. “You’re gonna be alright. And I guess... I guess you’re kind of cute.”

Jinx squinted down at the baby, her lips curling into a lopsided grin as she rocked back and forth. “But, you’re totally my sidekick now. You can’t just scream like that all the time. You’ve got to be a cool sidekick. Shhhh,” she whispered again, this time softer than before, as if the very concept of calming the baby had caught her off guard.

The baby’s hiccup was so quiet, so small, but Jinx caught it. Her lips curled into a crooked smile, and she gave a little satisfied nod, clearly pleased with herself for at least calming the little screamer down, even if just a little.

"See? Not so bad when you stop yelling, huh?" she grinned, bouncing the baby a bit as she continued to march down the alley. "I guess you’re not totally hopeless."

Y/N’s tiny hands gripped at one of Jinx's braids and for a moment, the chaos of the city around them seemed to fade. There was still the hum of machinery in the background, the occasional shout from passing Zaunites, and the distant whir of a hovercraft zooming by. But in this moment, it was just Jinx and her new... well, sidekick.

Jinx thought for a second, her eyes flicking from Y/N’s scrunched-up face to the crooked streets of Zaun ahead of her.

"Alright, alright, kid," Jinx said, her voice softening but still with that unmistakable quirk of madness. "We can’t just keep calling you baby all the time. You need a real name... Something cool, like me!"

She paused for dramatic effect, glancing down at Y/N with a grin that could only belong to Jinx. "I mean, you’re gonna be famous one day, right? Everyone’s gonna know you. You gotta have a name that makes people go wow."

Jinx tapped her chin thoughtfully, her wild eyes darting around as she searched for inspiration. "Maybe… Boom-Boom?" she suggested with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. But then she quickly waved it off. "Nah, too obvious."

Another moment passed, and then she snapped her fingers with an exaggerated gasp. "I got it! Y/N! Yeah, yeah, that works. Y/N. It's... mysterious. It's cool. It's got that punch to it. Like—BAM!" she added, making an explosive gesture with her hands as if the name itself was a firecracker.

She beamed down at the baby, who was now squirming gently in her arms, eyes blinking up at her in confusion. "You’re Y/N, kid. And you’re gonna be the best sidekick this place has ever seen. That’s a promise!" she added with a dramatic wink.

With a newfound sense of pride, Jinx lifted her arms high, holding Y/N like some strange, glittering trophy. "Alright, Y/N, time for some fun!" she said, spinning around again and nearly tripping over a loose piece of scrap. "Let’s go make some noise!"

And with that, Jinx—her new sidekick in tow—took off through the streets of Zaun, the two of them ready to cause more chaos. But this time, with a little bit of unexpected sweetness in the mix.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #Jayce x platonic!reader #Viktor x platonic!reader #Jayvik x platonic!reader #Vander x platonic!reader #Silco x platonic!reader #baby!reader

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elizabethsnuts · 1 year ago

Note

So I don't know if you've seen spy kids 3, but basically there's a scene where the mum has to go on a mission with her baby because she has no baby sitter and she just carries her in a baby carrier. The scene is low-key badass. Anyway, I was wondering if you could do something like that for winterwidows daughter. Like they have no one to babysit her and she has to go on the mission with her parents.

P.S. I love your work.

Family Mission

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Bucky have no babysitter for you so they have no choice but to bring you on a mission to take down a HYDRA base.

A/N: Thank you for all the support on my work! It really means a lot to me that others enjoy reading it. It was my one year posting on tumblr a couple days ago, happy late tumblr birthday to me!

———

The morning sun filtered through the Avengers kitchen, casting a warm glow around the room where Bucky was finishing his coffee. Natasha, who was already dressed in her black tactical suit, was adjusting the baby carrier strapped to her chest, inside the carrier was you, gazing up at your mother with wide, curious eyes, cooing softly.

Bucky approached the two of you, his metal arm glinting in the sunlight. "Are you sure about this, Nat? Bringing Y/N along on a mission?"

Natasha gave him a reassuring smile. "We don't have much choice, do we? We can’t just keep her here by herself. Besides she’ll be looking at me the whole time."

Bucky leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. "Alright, we’ll keep her safe."

———

You all quickly boarded the Quinjet, where Tony was pacing the floor. Steve and Clint were gathered around a large holographic display of their mission target: a HYDRA base nestled in the Siberian wilderness.

Tony glanced up as Bucky and Natasha entered, you looked over to Tony with your little legs swinging in the carrier. "Well, look who's here. And they brought a little guest." His tone was a mix of amusement and surprise.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Y/N? Are you sure about this?"

"We don't have a babysitter," Natasha said with a hint of defiance. "We'll manage."

You were secured in your carrier, staring at the flashing lights and buttons inside the jet, your tiny hands reaching out to grab at the air. Natasha couldn't help but smile at your innocence. Bucky sat beside the two of you, keeping a watchful eye on both his family and the surroundings.

The Quinjet hummed as it sliced through the sky, descending towards the snow-covered landscape of Siberia. As they approached the drop zone, Tony ran through the plan one last time. "Alright, Natasha, Bucky, you're with me. Clint, Steve, Thor, you take the north entrance."

The team split into their assigned groups. Natasha and Bucky, with you securely strapped to Natasha's chest, moved stealthily through the forest. The snow crunched softly under their boots as they approached the base's southern entrance.

You played with the little beanie on your head, giggling quietly as you touched the fuzzy pom-pom. Natasha looked down and smiled at your happy mood, though her face had a hint of worry.

The team were able to hack into the security system, disabling the cameras and unlocking the doors.

"We're in," Steve whispered through the comms.

"Okay, Malyshka," Natasha whispered, adjusting the sound-dampening headphones over your little ears. "Time to be a good girl for Mama and Daddy."

You giggled and waved your tiny hands around as if you were part of the mission. You had no idea what was going on but you liked going on an adventure with your parents.

The three of you slipped into the shadows, Bucky’s eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement. Natasha moved silently, her skills honed from years of time in the Red Room. Your presence, surprisingly, didn’t hinder her. Instead, it seemed to sharpen her focus, giving her a greater purpose which was to keep you safe.

Inside the base, the corridors were eerily quiet while dimly lit. The team had done their job well, creating diversions and taking out patrols. Bucky and Natasha moved methodically, their silent communication seamless.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Natasha whispered to you, her lips curving into a smile.

As the central control room became closer into view, you began to babble softly, your eyes wide with curiosity. Natasha glanced down and smiled. "Almost there, Dorogoy," she whispered.

Bucky placed a small charge on the door, and they waited for the soft beep indicating it was ready. With a nod, the door blew open, and they rushed inside.

Alarms blared throughout the base. HYDRA reinforcements were closing in fast. Natasha and Bucky moved swiftly, taking down enemies with a coordinated dance of skill and precision. You in your carrier, just watched Natasha with a smile on your little face, your tiny hands clapping at the flashes of movement, oblivious to the danger.

With the last of the Hydra agents taken down, Natasha and Bucky quickly began gathering data from the computers. Steve’s voice crackled over the comms. "Status?"

"All clear," Natasha replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "We’ve got the data."

Navigating through the maze of corridors, they reached the exit quickly and ran back into the snowy forest.

“Mama!” You giggled, your little fingers tangled in her hair as flakes of snow hit your little pink cheeks.

Natasha laughed and kissed your head. “You did your first mission! You did so well!”

———

Back on the Quinjet, as they soared towards home, Natasha leaned back in her seat, exhausted but relieved. You, now sleepy, nestled against your mother's chest, your tiny hand gripping Natasha's suit.

"You did great today, baby," Natasha whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You babbled sleepily and closed your eyes, now feeling all warm in safe in Natasha’s arms. You loved the little adventure you had today.

#daughter!reader #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #winterwidow #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #buckynat #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #winterwidow x daughter!reader #buckynat x daughter!reader #bucky barnes x baby!reader #natasha romanoff x baby!reader #winterwidow x baby!reader #buckynat x baby!reader #baby!reader #marvel mcu

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agerefandomstuff · 8 months ago

Note

HI! i LOVED the fic you made abt the babyspace reader (finding comfort in your role) and i was wondering...could we PLEASE 🙏 get a pt 2? Your awesome, ☮️!

Sorry I disappeared for a bit. I started writing this as soon as you sent it but then life happened. I finished it tonight <3 I hope you enjoy!

Title: Finding Comfort in Your Role. Part 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Word Count: 3990

Description: Sam and Dean came back to the motel to find you regressed. Sam got some one-on-one with you while Dean got sent to the store. Now they have to get you into a diaper. Which… is easier said than done.

Cw: cussing

Dean came back into the motel attempting to balance an ungodly amount of grocery bags in his arms and boxes of diapers obscuring his view. He gave a knock–well… kick– to the door out of courtesy, also maybe because he nearly dropped everything trying to reach for the handle. He was shocked when Sam opened the door with you back on his hip, a big smile on both your faces although Sam’s was directed just at you.

“Who is it, hon? Is that Dean with all your supplies?” he gasped softly and acted surprised as he opened the door further for Dean which made you giggle and reach out towards the mountain of baby items.

“Hey… kiddo–? Wait wait don't touch–!” Dean awkwardly started to greet only to panic as you touched a box causing him to lose the perfectly…awful balance of items he had. Everything came crashing down, toys bounced into the room and boxes of diapers crashed down onto his foot while he tried to catch anything only to fail spectacularly. “That… damn it.”

It took a second for you to decide whether you were supposed to be upset or not, turning to look at Sam with a worried expression which melted away seeing him crack up at his brother’s clumsiness. Relieved you weren't in trouble, you giggled along with him and Dean gave you two an unimpressed look that only lasted a few seconds before he had a small smile on his face as well. He couldn't help it. As much as it annoyed him that it was at his expense he also loved seeing you two happy.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up… little shits.” he grumbled as he began to pick things up hoping to hide his smile a bit and play into his hardass role, although he wasn't fooling anyone.

“Hand me a box so I can get one on the baby then I'll help you pick up your mess.” Sam held his hand out with a little snicker but Dean looked at him slightly offended.

“You don’t know how to change a diaper. I’ll have this all cleaned up before you even figure out how to unfold it and there’ll be a puddle on–” He glanced inside, noticing the towel set up on his bed. He shot up, dropping everything he’d just picked back up and pointed to the towel accusingly. “Is there pee on my bed?! If there’s pee on my bed we’re switching! I am NOT sleeping in YOUR kid’s pee stain!”

“No! There's no– Dean! We’re not switching! We already chose our beds!”

“That was before the baby pee!”

“There’s no pee!”

“I don't trust you. Lift the towel.”

Sam scoffed, “You lift the towel.”

“I’m not touching pee!”

“It’s completely dry!!”

“Then why won't you touch it?” Dean eyed him, not looking at you whatsoever despite how you were kind of the cause of this argument.

Truth was Sam knew the towel was dry. If it hadn't been he wouldn't have lugged you back onto his hip to open the door but as a sibling it was in his nature to argue with Dean and freak him out. It was fun. Plus it was making you giggle.

“Oh my god I'll help you pick things up, Dean, just stop being so dramatic.” He answered, instead acting like this had all stemmed from the mess instead of something he was definitely the cause of. Dean opened his mouth to argue more but with one more glance to the suspicious towel then the mess on the ground he gave up with a little grumble, deciding to just take advantage of the help. Afterall.. He bought way too much and it made a big mess…

Sam laid you back down on the towel, handing you a little stuffed animal that had landed near the bed, hoping it would distract you for the minute they were busy. Which, sure enough, it did. You happily squeaked and babbled to the stuffie while the boys got to work picking up items and setting them on the table in the room, Sam occasionally scoffing at Dean’s purchases.

“You really think we need this many boxes of diapers?”

“I didn't know what size to get or how many we’d have to change.”

“And what about the.. What even are these?”

“Well.. they’re.. baby supplements. Like.. vitamins, I think. Lisa’s friends would– just shut up and keep picking stuff up! Just be thankful I went and stocked up for you and your kid. That makes me a great uncle! Or– uh something.” Sam pauses to look at Dean with raised eyebrows, surprised by his ‘uncle’ comment. But right as he opened his mouth to make a smart reply Dean, who looked a bit flustered, struggled to even hold his gaze and cut him off with a defensive mumble. “Whatever. Shut up.”

Sam smirked, entertained by his brother’s embarrassment but also pleased he clearly wasn’t disturbed by his relationship with you. Even if Sam would tell you otherwise, he would always have that worry in the back of his mind that Dean might not approve of this dynamic but… Dean wasn't always a man great with his words, instead showing his true feelings through his actions. Which if his current actions were anything to go by… then a weight had been lifted off Sam’s mind, reassuring him again that being your caregiver was definitely something he enjoyed and wanted to be as long as you'd have him.

“Is that all of it?” Sam asked, glancing around the room once more and peeking out into the hallway to make sure they'd gotten it all before shutting the door and locking it.

“Yeah I think so.” Dean pried open a diaper box and tugged one of the fluffy purple diapers out, setting it beside you along with wipes and some baby powder. He smiled down at you for a brief second, watching how you chewed on the toy and played with it just like a baby would.

“Purple? There weren't any plain white ones?” Sam asked as he walked over, checking out the changing set up and pulling him out of the little moment he had with you.

Sam lightly ran his fingers over your legs and stretched them out over the bed thinking it would make the change easier than if you had them tucked up by your chest.

Dean cleared his throat hoping it would take some of the awkwardness away and batted your caregiver’s hands away, letting you bend and stretch your legs as you wanted. “I got white ones too. I got a variety.”

“Course you did.” Sam reached down for your legs again after Dean batted them away assuming Dean didn't mean to stop him from helping or that perhaps he’d done it because he had assumed Sam wouldn't want to do it. But he did want to help. You were his baby and he needed to learn this so he was going to have a part in this even if it was just something as small as straightening your legs out and tugging his shirt up to be out of the way.

But Dean quickly batted his hands off your legs again, not even giving it a second thought. He knew what he was doing and whatever Sam was doing to play with you was going to get in his way once he started to change you. This was his duty as your uncle…person… designated diaper changer? No, that sounds awful. He’ll just settle for… um…

Now Sam was annoyed. He was just trying to help and you were his anyway so why Dean wasn't allowing him to touch his own kid was ridiculous. He wasn't even doing anything yet. He was just unfolding the diaper and opening the wipes with his furrowed thinking brows as if this required a lot of deep thinking. It was putting a diaper on for heaven’s sake. How hard could that be?

This time he reached for your underwear, making an aggravated noise when Dean smacked his hands away again. It just felt personal now. “Quit it!”

“No, move over. I’ve got it.”

“It’s a diaper. I can figure it out! You act like I’m incapable or something!”

“You’ve never done it before! I have! Move over.”

Your eyes bounced back and forth as you watched them bicker, lightly shove at each other, and smacked each other's hands away when they reached for you, like teenage girls trying to avoid a full brawl but slowly bordering on one. You giggled around the stuffie’s ear in your mouth and squirmed when they would touch you for a brief moment only for the other brother to pull them back away, their focus going right back to bickering.

It took them a solid few minutes to realize that their bickering had wound you up, making you much more active and wiggly. Your clothing houdini act making a return when they both had to pause in surprise seeing your underwear had disappeared. Sam looked around the bed even peeking under it for the article of clothing, shocked and slightly horrified at your decision.

Dean was more surprised than Sam not expecting that. In fact seeing you half naked was like a wake up call to him that… you were not his kid. Or significant other. Or whatever you were to Sam. And he was… encroaching on that a bit actually. He was just supposed to be guiding his brother not over taking it. He was supposed to be his Shredder or Obi Wan… whatever. His mentor. His..big brother… not.. Dad.

Dean took a breath then put his hand on Sam’s shoulder pulling his attention away from his missing underwear search and held out the diaper to him. Sam awkwardly took the diaper from him and raised an eyebrow, unsure what he wanted from him.

“Slide it under the kid’s butt before any more pee gets on my bed.”

Sam’s gaze nervously flicked between you, Dean, and the diaper, the sudden task before him much more daunting. Sure he wanted to do it by himself a few minutes ago but that was when he was fueled by spite from his brother. Now he felt like he'd been thrown in the ocean with a boat he had no idea how to drive.

He clears his throat and tries to use one of your legs to lift you up so he could slide it under you. However.. he could only get it under one cheek and you kicked at the diaper with the other free leg. His brows furrowed in concentration as he reached for your other leg trying to lift them both at the same time but another problem arose. Adult legs were much bigger than infants’… even with his bigger than average hands. So when he attempted to lift you up with both ankles in one hand and you squirmed around you would effectively get one leg out of his hold. every. single. time.

Dean watched his little brother struggle with the first most basic step, struggling internally to not tease him ruthlessly or just take over and do it himself or both. It would be easier after all. But he told himself he would teach his little brother so he would.

Try.

He would try.

If his brother ended up being totally helpless then well… Dean would just be looking after his bed. Who could blame him?

“Roll 'em onto their side then roll ‘em back onto the diaper.” Dean offers only for Sam to huff and look at him a bit frustrated.

“Roll..? You mean right off the bed? Don't you see I’m barely keeping this little worm from squirming off already? The bed is too small for that.”

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam’s sassy complaint and stepped a little closer to gesture with his next suggestion, his subconscious itching to quit teaching to get it over with. He would do it so much faster. “Try putting your hand under the small of the back.. Right here.” He slides his hand under your back and lifts just enough for your butt to lift off the bed, your body automatically stilling and assisting his action. “To lift the butt up.. See? There. Then you can slip it under.”

Sam quickly slipped the diaper under your body before your momentary stillness ended and Dean set you back down on top of it. The material crinkled and you peered down at it for a moment. Your baby brain enraptured by the noise and familiar feeling under your butt.

Dean then took the leg closest to him and gently pushed it out, gesturing for Sam to do the same to the other leg as he reached for the powder. Realizing how hands on he had become again he quickly handed the bottle over to Sam. “Powder then pull up the front.”

Sam took the bottle in hand and looked at it like it was a new weapon for a hunt he’d only seen through research before but never gotten the opportunity to use. If he could do that he could do this. He just had to keep repeating that to himself and this would be fine. If he could do that he could do this. If he could do that he could do this. If he could–

Sam turned the bottle over to spray the powder out into the diaper but…nothing came out. He looked at Dean sheepishly as he turned it back over to screw open the top only to breathe in the cloud of powder that puffed out. You giggled uncontrollably at the sight of him coughing with a light dust of powder decorating his face which made Dean laugh as well.

Recovering from his coughs, Sam gave you both an embarrassed glare before trying again. This time successfully dumping the powder on you and the diaper. Although maybe a bit too much? He wasn't sure he didn't exactly have a reference to go off of. You giggled at the feeling of the soft powder and the cloud that came with it. You even held the toy, that you luckily had yet to make disappear like your clothes, down by your belly making it appear as if it were looking at the cloud on your skin as well. The sweet action made Sam relax once again knowing that even if he was somehow doing this wrong you were still happy and unbothered by his mistakes. You were being such a patient baby today and he couldn't be more thankful for it.

“Alright you kinda.. made a little mountain. In one place. So go ahead and rub that in a little. Like in the creases and stuff so none of us have to deal with a rash later.” Dean instructed, his mind conjuring up the image of listening to a little kid cry in the backseat of Baby due to a diaper rash they could’ve prevented... while they drove for hours… no gas station in sight… no place to buy more changing supplies… god. He had to stop before he gave himself nightmares.

Dean looked away as Sam hesitantly began to rub the powder around, hoping to give you both a bit of privacy as if he hadn't already seen it all by now. You wiggled around a bit as Sam’s hand brushed the baby powder into the creases of your hips and thighs, nervously pausing around your butt and genitals. It was an uncomfortable situation that was a part of the reason he suspected both of you hadn’t yet broached the topic of him changing you before and Dean turning away made it feel like it was.. a taboo… or extra intimate which made him more nervous but… he had to remind himself he was being a dad right now and even his brother knew that by calling himself your uncle. And while you two would have to have a conversation later about today plus reevaluating your dynamic and expected boundaries, this was an extenuating circumstance.

Assuming he was finally done he looked up at Dean and cleared his throat, holding his now powdery hand up, waiting for his instructions on what to do next. “Now what?”

Dean looked back at his brother for a moment then down at you to double check his work, still helping keep you in place with his hand on your leg while your attention had shifted to the pile of goodies on the table just a few feet away. “The front of the diaper, dude.”

“Right.” Sam went to pull the front of the diaper up to cover you but paused as he remembered his hand was still… dusty. “Uh.. what about..?” He led off holding his hand up for Dean to see better. To which he just rolled his eyes and grabbed a baby wipe, let go of your leg, and began to wipe off Sam’s hand for him. Because of course he had to do everything around here… big brothers and mentors just never got a break! He would be taking care of Sammy forever… ahem.. hopefully…

While he was busy cleaning Sam’s hand off, you took the opportunity of no longer being held in place to roll over onto your side, eyes trained on the other toys on the table and not the edge of the bed you were nearing as you turned. As you started to slip from the bed your hand shot out to the bed beside you trying to grab something to keep you from falling but you ended up only grabbing the towel which went down right along with you taking along the diaper and all the fresh powder Sam forgot to close.

Both Dean and Sam yelled as they lunged for you, Sam’s hand, damp from the wipe, slipped over your skin as he tried to grab your leg while Dean tripped partially onto the bed, snagging your arm roughly as he did which kept you from completely hitting the floor. Or at least kept your head from hitting the floor. Your feet still smacked on the ground and your poor white-powdered butt hit the bed frame but Sam was quick to wrap his arms around your waist and hoist you back into the middle of the bed, horrified you’d fallen and he hadn't been able to catch you.

Dean let go of your wrist, instantly moving to work in tandem with Sam without so much as a word spoken between them. He checked you over for injuries while your caregiver cupped your face and cooed apologies and… borderline scolds you with sweet words.

“Oh baby… I’m sorry. Daddy was distracted.. I thought you'd stay still for just a moment and… you can't just roll off the bed like that you could get hurt.. Are you hurt? Oh don't cry..” Sam kissed your forehead as your face scrunched up with tears. The way the boys were acting after your brief feeling of fear and the minimal pain you went through from falling was enough of a reason for any baby to cry. He looked at his brother much more seriously, his own panic coursing through him as he assumed you were crying from pain not reacting to them. “Dean, where’s the injury? I have tears at twelve o’clock.”

“Calm down. It’s fine. No broken bones. Maybe a bruised butt and wrist.” Dean was visibly more relaxed after his investigation, but was still looking over your wrist. He felt guilty for how hard he grabbed it when you were falling off a bed. It was embarrassing that they had acted like you'd nearly died off a cliff.

Sam sighed in relief and leaned down to press more kisses to your face, wiping any tears that started to fall down your face. If he could handle a diaper he could handle tears. If he could– oh.. He hadn't finished the diaper.

“Dean, could you finish the diaper situation?” He would have other chances to learn in the future but right now your tears needed him the most. He brushed his fingers through your hair and down your cheek as he moved to sit beside your head. Dean even helping to situate you so your head was in his lap while he finished changing you.

Sam pet down your face and spoke softly, “You're alright, honey. You're okay… you don't have to cry…”

His soft speaking was helping calm down the panic that lingered in your chest seeing them riled up but tears were still easier to start than they were to stop. You looked up at him through wet eyes, his blurred image from the tears made another cry slip out.

He ran his hand down to your shoulder, patting it slightly as he tried to think of how to make you feel better. But it was hard to think with you crying. You’d think all the years of hunting and thinking on the spot under extreme pressure would help in this situation but you were different than that. He was filled with the need to help his baby with something mundane not save you from being killed by a ghoul.

“Dean, why is it taking you so long?” he asked, the returning anxiety getting aimed at his innocent brother.

“You put the diaper under there backwards..!” Dean grumbled out in defense as he finished taping the diaper up then stepped away, subtly admiring his work.

Once he was done Sam scooped you up in his arms, putting you on his hip to hold you tight. “There. You're alright. See? Your bottom is all protected… and so are the sheets and daddy’s lap… and you're not hurt… you're okay..” He held one hand under your thighs while the other guided your head to his shoulder allowing you to cry into his shirt. He rubbed your back and shushed you while he rocked on his feet slowly, recalling how he’d seen people do that little movement to help soothe crying kids.

While you two were absorbed into your own little world, the older hunter stood back to watch in silent awe as his little brother parented. A part of him realizing his little brother wasn't so… well... little anymore. His heart squeezed at the sight of him doing for his little kid the same thing Dean had done for him when they were kids. He felt like both a proud uncle and a… and almost like a proud dad seeing his kid all grown up.

He wiped at his face hoping to get rid of some of those feelings, not that they were bad but… they only needed one big baby crying in this motel room.

After a few minutes of gentle loving comfort and Dean opening the things he bought to give you two your time, Sam had managed to successfully ride through to the end of your crying without having his own breakdown. It had gotten easier throughout your cry but there were still several moments when he couldn't stop thinking he was doing something wrong.

But now you were sleepily dozing on his shoulder, tired from the crying even if it wasn’t that long. Crying was hard work and Sam was right thinking you hadn't slept in a while. This hunt was dragging on and you didn't always get to sleep in the car very long to make up for the sleep you'd miss other times so the crying was just the right thing to push you over the edge.

Plus Dean had cleaned off a teether he’d bought and Sam had given it to you to suck and chew on while you drifted which only made you relax further into your daddy’s chest that smelled oh so perfectly like him.

You really hoped he wouldn't put you down while you slept.

For both your sakes.

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