#favorite toddler ever made

[luvsimtingz]

Have a Berry Sweet Halloween from little Lottie aka the cutest strawberry shortcake I’ve ever seen 🎃🍓

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

thinking about harrow and gideon as teeny little children.

like. the adults around them were never going to let them be friends, right? harrow's parents and crux were never going to put up with that. but i'll bet there was a moment, when they were small children, when they could've turned it around and just been friends. but of course they weren't allowed to.

like, here's the thing about toddlers: they kinda suck sometimes. all of them do, and it's usually not their fault. they don't have a developed sense of empathy or consequences yet, and they can't regulate their emotions very well. they're selfish and egocentric and short-sighted. they don't fully grasp concepts like sharing or delayed gratification. they have to be taught these things. it's the responsibility of the adults around them to help them practice and understand. and if they don't...well.

imagine you're tiny harrow. and you realize, one day, that if tiny gideon has something you want, then you're allowed to just take it and nobody cares. meanwhile, all of your things are sacred and protected by the adults around you. also, you're curious. you're learning about people and feelings and cause and effect. and so you start to pick on her, experimentally, as is natural for kids around that age. and you quickly come to understand that you can do whatever you want to her, and nobody will stop you. but if she retaliates, she gets in trouble. you would have to be one hell of an emotionally advanced toddler not to become a fucking terror to live with.

and that's not even mentioning how the adults around them treated gideon. harrow's primary caretaker and role model was fucking crux for jod's sake. and little kids love to copy behaviors and play and help even more than they love to steal. if the adults around you treat one particular person like shit, then you will inevitably learn to do the same.

also, gideon saying that baby harrow saw her as, quote, "an object of tormentable fascination" is weirdly heartbreaking to me? like yeah, harrow was probably The Worst as a little kid, for reasons already explored. but also, there was only one other child in her life. one other child, who was just close enough to her age to identify with, but also slightly older than her, by just enough months to be cool. i'll fucking bet harrow was obsessed with her. they were both lonely and bored and they had never been taught how to make friends or be nice to people. i'll bet they learned to fight like that. harrow following her around, just trying to get her attention, not knowing how else to do it.

the fact that griddle is very obviously babytalk too...it just fuckin gets me. harrow has been trying to say gideon's name since before she could properly form the syllables. she said gid-oh. what do you wanna bet it was one of the first words she tried to figure out how to say.

obviously, none of this justifies what came next. this isn't a harrowhark apologetics post. i'm not trying to like...woobify her or something. none of this emotional rambling about her toddlerhood absolves her of responsibility for shit she did as a teenager. but still. god i get emotional when i think about harrow and gideon as little kids. they were so lonely and they had no positive role models and they were completely fucked over by the adults around them and i am going to cry.

[halo-lll-odst]

whats ur kintype?? if u feel comfortable telling so

techkin/robokin :D!!!

[icecreamkink]

I WATCHED DERRY GIRLS 3 TIMES ON A ROW AND I THINK MY LIFE IS FOREVER CHANGED WHY ISNT IT 6 SEASONS LONG I HAVE /SEEN/ A WEEPING MARY

[fuzzyunicorn]

Lmfao got some more info on u girls: u know how I’ve been saying all along it’s ur places 2 eat shit & like it? well lol I just got word u literally eat literal shit 4 ur black magick spells to work against me I’m howling bc they obviously aren’t working & ur so desperate 2 get a hit on me ur fucking eating shit every night lmao what the fuck??! So that means ur consuming a lot of it. No wonder God said ur full of shit he meant it literally… What the fuck is wrong w u? 😭😂 So ur eating shit on a nightly basis?? omg I haven’t laughed this hard since my grandpa passed

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

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[hecateslore]

💗🎀

papa!simon hc's cause I want to.

He sniffs the baby so much, to the point it makes Babygirl cry of discomfort. He loves the newborn smell, especially after a bath.

He will not co-sleep!!! Very anxious first time parent, he believes one of you will crush the baby, so he has a bassinet in your guy's room. No naps together, nothing.

Is a baby talker.

Don't hold his baby. (he's a baby hog)

Makes people wash their hands. all. the. time.

Simon being a parent to a toddler is so hectic because he will argue with a two year old.

Hates to see his daughter cry and will buy her anything she wants, and will do anything, because he hates to see her sad.

Simon loves to watch tv, and he makes the baby watch tv with him, she always falls asleep but he doesn't care.

Always hugging his babies, giving them kisses, patting their heads, he just loves his kids so much i'm gonna cry rn WAHHHHHHHHH

When you have your twin boys, Simon decides maybe he shouldn't be in the SAS anymore, he has babies he needs to come home to.

Twins look exactly like Simon it's creepy. Simon thinks it's hilarious, and tells the boys he made them in a military lab using his blood. He went too far one time and made them both cry because he said the government was looking for them.

His eldest is favorite, if he could shrink her and put her in his pocket and protect her from everything.. he would.

Will wrestle with his children, doesn't matter the age.

After the first, he wants at least five kids. You always say no.

When you were pregnant Simon always rubbed your belly at home, in public, where ever, the man loves a bump.

HOME VIDEOOOOSSS, birthdays, births, holidays, school plays, recitals, award ceremonies, sports. whatever it is he's there with a camera.

Takes little league football very seriously, and is having a deep ass conversation with the coach and assistant coach. This is children's football we're talking about, lay off the 4 year olds.

[sttoru]

‘the markings engraved on the wood hold unspoken memories; ones that will last forever.’

☀︎｜tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. you’re married. based on a request i got a while back; reader and toji marking megumi’s changes in height throughout the years to record how much he’s grown.

“oh, it’s already time to do that stuff ‘gain, huh?” toji grunts as he was lazily slumping back on the couch — rough hand cradling the head of his three year old son.

megumi was surprisingly quiet whilst laying on top of toji’s chest. the reason why probably being the dancing fruits and vegetables on the television. those videos was pure entertainment for the little guy.

toji’s eyes follow your movements as you grabbed a sharpie and walked towards the door of the living room. you had purposefully grabbed the special sharpie that existed only to fulfil one, sole task;

which was to mark megumi’s current height on the doorframe.

“yep.” you nod enthusiastically. you were excited to see how much megumi had grown since the last time you measured his height. it was a fun thing to do, yet also bittersweet.

toji looks down at the little boy on his chest. he grins like a proud dad once he notices how content megumi was in his embrace, “c’mon, bud. y’r momma wants to see how much bigger and stronger you grew.”

megumi’s attention was instantly drawn to you at the words uttered to him. in a sudden burst of energy, he jumps off toji’s torso — running your way. he was bouncing up and down like his favorite candy was about to get handed out.

“alright, alright.” you giggle softly and tenderly rub megumi’s cheeks with your fingers. toji gets up from the couch and joins the two of you, crossing his arms over his chest whilst leaning against the wall.

your husband’s focus was elsewhere; his gaze following the previous records that were left on the wooden jamb. there were dates assigned to each line — each holding a precious memory of their own. toji lets out a deep breath, closes his eyes and allows all the happy memories to flood back into his mind for a good moment.

he can’t stop the fond smile from forming on his face as he squats down to megumi’s level, “i bet ya grew a lot considering how much veggies y’ve been eatin lately.”

“yeah! big boy!” megumi grins back at toji — his playful grin resembling your husband’s. his tiny hands pat his belly, causing both his parents to laugh at his actions.

you pull off the cap from the sharpie and properly align your toddler against the doorframe. toji helped megumi stay still for the sake of measuring his height as accurately as possible.

you try to get the perfect dot right atop of megumi’s head. once you get it, you draw a straight line from that point to the end of the jamb. it’s then that you notice the difference between the previous blue line and the newest one you had just placed on the wood.

you stay silent for a few seconds after taking the tip of the sharpie away from the door jamb. there it was; that bittersweet look in your eyes. one that toji knew very well. he understands your emotions and doesn’t ever invalidate them since he feels the same deep within.

that beautiful and proud yet also surprisingly sad feeling. the one you get when you realise just how fast time flies.

“mama! mama! look!” megumi excitedly points out the obvious difference between the two lines, clapping his hands out of pure delight, “i’m shtronger! bwigger!”

the pure face of joy that megumi made, was enough to put a smile on your face as well. you instantly scoop your son up in your arms and hug him tightly to your body. megumi’s nose scrunches up, left cheek squished against your chest with a faint giggle escaping his lips.

toji’s expression was one of content in the meantime. a content man whom had finally found the reason as to why life was worth living.

his hand reaches out, index finger curling around the collar of megumi’s shirt from behind. he gives it a small yank as if trying to catch the boy’s attention. once toji gains exactly that — he opens his arms and motions for a hug;

“what ‘bout papa, kid?” your husband raises an eyebrow. he tries hard to fake a pout, though only ends up looking quite silly, “can papa get a big ol’ h—”

before toji could finish his sentence, megumi unexpectedly jumps into his arms. this causes toji to actually stumble back — falling out of his squat and into a sitting position on the floor. that was quite the surprise, but, a pleasant one it sure was.

the dark-haired man rolls his eyes before nuzzling his nose into megumi’s hair. his strong arms engulf the toddler completely—not wanting to let go any time soon.

“y’re gonna need to eat a lot more so you can grow up ‘n be as tall as me.” toji teases after a few seconds of comfortable silence. he squeezes megumi’s cheek and looks down at him fondly, “i’m sure you’ll even outgrow me ‘n your momma one day.”

the mention of your son one day growing up and becoming taller than you makes that solemn look return to your eyes. your bottom lip sticks out and your eyebrows furrow.

toji notices and regrets saying what he said whilst already knowing you were in a sentimental mood. plus, you always got even more emotional when talking about how quick megumi was growing up. it was like he was a newborn just yesterday.

“wah! mama. . .”

even megumi notices the change in your expression and he huffs. his eyes dart back towards his dad’s and his tiny fists (softly) land on toji’s chest twice. like he was giving out a punishment for ‘upsetting’ you.

“papa make mama sad! papa bad!” megumi sticks his tongue out at toji and runs back towards you — tiny arms circling your neck as he clings onto you in hopes to make you feel better.

your son’s cute antics were enough to lighten up the mood, causing both toji and you to laugh again. even if a tear had already rolled down your cheek from before.

you were about to wipe it away yourself, though was stopped by two hands: a large one and a small one. one belonging to toji and the other to megumi.

“aht aht,” toji narrows his eyes at his kid, “i’m the one who made y’r momma cry, so i gotta be the one comfortin’ her to make it right.”

“no! papa made mama sad. i make mama happy ‘gain. not papa.” megumi does the same back, though adds fuel to the fire by sticking his tongue out like earlier.

and. . . there they go again.

your husband and son go back and forth about who gets to wipe your tear away and comfort you. you knew toji was competitive - even with his own son - but it was funny to see how he still argued with a three year old like it was some serious business.

you couldn’t even be sad any longer as the squabbling makes you giggle — though also leaves you with a giddy feeling in your chest.

time seems to slow down when you’re engrossed in rememberable moments like these.

and all you could do was wish that they would last forever.

[lxvvie]

Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Parenthood Edition:

Thinking it's so cute the way your little bundle of joy scrunches up, especially when she's laying on you and/or Simon.

Simon's irregular sleep schedule making him the perfect playmate for little Miss Riley when she's up and at 'em at night. You remember walking into the living room once and watching Simon just walk around, daughter bundled up in her baby blanket in his arms, cooing and gurgling at her Papa, them having their own conversation, and watching Simon fall in love all over again.

Being hypervigilant to the point that every noise the baby makes prompts you to wake up and panic. The baby whined, you sat straight up in bed, only to see Simon staring at you in concern and baby Riley sound asleep on his chest.

Conversely, thinking something is wrong because you haven't heard the baby cry, waking up in a panic yet again only to be met with Simon and the baby looking at you crazy.

Simon officially becoming a bed for you and baby Riley. It's not uncommon for her to lay on his chest while you're nestled at his side and his arm is around you.

Absolutely, positively loving to put the baby sling on Simon and watching your big beefy lover tote the baby around in it. Also, taking a picture and sending it to the boys. The big bad Ghost? In a baby sling???? Huh. Looks cute on him.

Parental guilt, especially on Simon's end with him being gone on deployments. He made damn sure to see his baby girl take her first steps because he missed it when she began to start fully crawling.

Baby girl being captivated by the scars on Simon's face. And his crooked nose. Loves to grab at his face and you're amused by the way he scrunches his nose when she does so. Apparently baby girl is, too.

You and Simon playing with the baby and next thing you know, you hear a wet fart. Simon chuckles out of amusement and to keep from dying inside because he just changed her nappy. You conveniently had to go walk the cat and made yourself scarce. Meanwhile, baby girl is giggling and gurgling up a storm.

When she gets older, little Miss Riley loves it when Simon carries her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. She'll run up to him and go, " 'tato, Daddy! 'tato!" and next thing you know, there's a giggling toddler slung over her dad's shoulder.

Baby girl drawing a picture of her parents at school and Simon's shoulders are bigger than... everything else on his body. Even his head. You're so tickled that you framed it.

Similarly, sneaking one of her drawings into Simon's bag so he'll see it when he's gone. He does and it's all the more reason for him to fight like hell to see you two again.

Having to limit the amount of sweets you buy because Princess Miss Riley has inherited her dad's sweet tooth. Doesn't stop them from sneaking out to go to their favorite bakery.

Baby girl being the best helper ever around the house, especially when she walks on Daddy's back to help alleviate the stiffness.

Because she likes to draw so much, Simon promised his daughter that she can design the next tattoo he gets. Well, it turns into an entire project and you and her proceed to draw butterflies and other cute designs on his other arm. True to his word, Simon gets another sleeve tattoo with those same drawings. Cheers, luvs.

Simon being in the doghouse with little Miss Riley because he was supposed to wake up with true love's first kiss because you and Simon were reenacting Sleeping Beauty for your daughter. Simon may or may not have taken it a bit too seriously and dozed off. Your baby girl is now upset because this means Sleeping Beauty will never wake up again and no amount of treats from daddy can change that. Princess Daddy status has officially been revoked, Simon. For now lmao.

[beiasluv]

mini norris | l. norris (4)

a/n: i hateeee pregnancy trope but ughhh 😩 wrap it before you tap it 😘

“Oh, you’re feisty, yes, you are–”

Babysitting Oliver’s baby girl was not on your plan today, but you couldn’t complain. Not that Lando was her favorite – and only – uncle.

She cooed and giggled as Lando squeezed her in a hug, the widest smile you've ever seen spread across his face as he giggled with her. And It quickly became clear that Lando wanted the little pitter-patter of baby feet on the hardwood floor to be something more temporary than you expected.

As he turned to look up at you, his dull blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. He’d like to believe he’s over the clubbing phase, more than he’d like to admit. Well – everything was faster than he expected. But it felt right with you.

“You know yn…” he started. “I've been thinking–”

“Lan.”

You gave him the look, sighing softly before taking Mila away from him as she made a grabbing motion towards you – as if saying she was done with her uncle.

“…shouldn’t we think harder about this?”

“I’ve been thinking hard about it,” he pouted, brushing the hair away from her face.

“Sure you did,” you scoffed back. Mila cooing as you bounced her up and down, patting her small back, hoping some of the gas would come up.

“I know it's impulsive, but it feels right. And...” he paused. “...you haven't even said you hated the idea.”

You let the idea sunk in…biting your bottom lips nervously before Lando reached out to wipe the corner of the toddler’s mouth – pumpkin purée to be exact.

“I’m the one getting pregnant here,” you huffed before giving him a look.

“I know,” he smiled, even his eyes lighted up.

“We can do it together. Every little step along the way,” he smiled sincerely. “And besides…” Lando teased, raising an eyebrow before leaning over to swipe some of the pumpkin purée that had ended up on your cheek. He smiled softly to himself as he ran his thumb along your jawline before leaning in to kiss that spot.

“You'll look so hot, all pregnant.”

“Lando– I love you–” you chuckled in disbelief. “But I don’t think I would feel hot carrying a little person inside me.”

“But you will, just watch,” he stopped you, pressing in closer to you and Mila – who just cooed in disagreement, taking her little hand and pushing her uncle Lala away from your personal space. Cackling in satisfaction as she bounced up and down in your arms.

“See, she thinks you’re wrong,” you smiled, cooing the toddler.

“You have no sense of romance, little miss." Lando grinned as he reached for Mila again, his eyes full of mischief as he tried to steal a laugh out of her. "Come here you,” reaching for her and swinging her around in circles as he tried to tickle her.

She giggled and tried to get away from him, fighting as hard she could against his playful grasp.

“Once you learn how to change the diapers, we could talk,” you smiled, looking at the niece and her uncle – tickling each other into a giggling mess. Lando snapping his head up as his messy, curly brown hair fell out of place.

“Then you get ready tonight baby.”

——

“She’s a healthy looking girl.”

When he’d finally broke down your wall and you told him you were ready, he didn’t need to be told twice before whisking you into the bedroom.

And it wasn’t was expected that you’d showed up pregnant at the paddock, hand-in-hand with the McLaren driver. But sharing the experience it with him was the best part – well, for now, until you’ll get to meet your sweet little pea.

“You're... you're so...”

Lando’s words caught in his throat as he stood behind you, watching you check at yourself in the mirror. The way the body-fitted white shirt hugged your body was stunning. The way it clung to every single curve, emphasizing how beautiful your bump looked, how full your breasts have gotten. And definitely the way how full your stomach looked with the denim skirt underneath it.

He really did that, no?

He reached out to squeeze your sides and wrap his arms around your waist.

“You’re so…hot, mama”

“Barely feel like it,” you smiled. “I’ve got my stomach sticking out to the world,” turning to kiss his cheek behind you.

Lando grinned, squeezing your sides gently.

“That's the thing, you look hot in everything…just hotter when your stomach sticks out,” he revealed passionately, leaning down to kiss your neck.

He knew how it made you feel insecure about yourself, which he thought was silly because it only made you look more beautiful to him.

The change in your body was something he was adjusting to as well. The way the way your waistline had curved in, the way your hips had widened. He placed the palm of his hand across the bump on your stomach, gently rubbing it.

"We can always get new clothes," he told you, smiling warmly. "But, honestly. You’re just so...sexy in anything.”

Before you could whisk out another sarcastic response, you felt a kick in your abdomen. Wasn’t as bad compared to period cramps but something you definitely felt a ‘kick’ to it.

“You feel that?” you winced.

“Yeah,” he smiled, tucking his chin on your neck behind you before lifting a pressure off your growing stomach. “Hurting mama already little miss?”

You smiled at the scene, scoffing before looking back at your husband, “You’re such a girl dad already.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he smirked.

“Not that like I’m going to be the strict parent while you get all lovey dovey with your baby,” you huffed jokingly.

“Someone’s gotta be the strict parent, no?” he smiled. “And I'm going to be plenty tough when she needs it.”

“But for now, I'm just excited to spoil this tiny little girl…And her mama.”

“Doubtful.”

You couldn’t only help but rolling your eyes back, tilting your neck to an angle. Turning away from him before smoothing out your lovely skirt.

And God help him because he was torn between his thirst to pull you back in and let his instincts take over or letting you finish getting ready. Deciding to let you get ready instead of making you feel like he only cared about one thing. For now, at least. That thought was enough to get him to try and behave himself for the time being.

"What about your shoes? Have you picked them out yet?" he asked, taking his eyes off of you for the first time in a while.

Knowing what he wanted. Let’s say…he has always been gentle with your baby girl inside, but he could only try so hard.

“Maybe tonight,” you smiled nonchalantly, fixing your hair in the mirror. “The adidas please?”

And you didn’t have to tell him twice, he would be down on the floor, slipping on your adidas sambas – trying his worst to wipe off that grin on his face. Gosh, you’d lie if his beard wasn’t doing things to you.

“Tonight. Definitely tonight.”

wrote it first for Logan but decided to change it for Lando??? 😬😬

– @jsjcue @namgification

y’all know the drill 😘 today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!!

[writingouthere]

Wait neighbor Sukuna is cuteeeeee I need a story pleaseeee🥹🥹🥹

another neighbor!Sukuna drabble. your first unofficial date.

cw: fluff, single parent reader, Sukuna is a good neighbor but a bad dude

The first time that Sukuna took you out happened on accident.

He'd been keeping track of your comings and goings so he could start being in the hallway at the same time as you to give a casual hello. His favorite times were when you had time to just chat without you needing to rush off to work or to daycare or one of the many activities you always were taking your daughter to.

It was a Saturday morning and Sukuna's ears perked up when he heard you talking to your daughter down the hallway. You couldn't clearly hear what you were saying but the tone seemed soothing and he thought he could even make out some sniffling from your daughter, unusual since she was usually so cheerful.

Sukuna grabbed his mailbox key so he had a purpose for stepping outside and slipped some shoes on before going into the hallway.

"Morning, neighbor," you managed cheerfully and Sukuna looked down to see that your daughter had tears on her face. The sight had his hackles up immediately.

"Are you all okay?" He tried to sound nonchalant and he wondered if it worked as you wiped away some of your daughter's tears.

"We're okay, it's just," you paused here and looked at your daughter. "Her dad was going to take her to the aquarium but something came up and he's not going to make it. I know he's really disappointed he can't go." The touch of anger in your eyes made him think that this was you just trying to make your daughter feel better.

Sukuna had been planning to wait a little longer, to build more of a rapport with you before trying anything, but he couldn't just see you or your kid look like this over some loser who couldn't be a real man for his family.

"Well I don't see why that means we can't go to the aquarium," he said and he finally got the kid to stop crying for a second and look up at him.

"We don't have a car and it's over two hours by subway," you said reluctantly and Sukuna couldn't contain his sly grin.

"I have a car, and I wouldn't mind taking you. If that's okay with you, of course."

"Yes, yes, yes, can we go mommy, please?" Sukuna had never heard your toddler say so much before and you bit your lip before looking back at him. Sukuna could barely keep his eyes off your mouth but he knew if he looked he'd kiss you and this wasn't the place for it.

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to do it, sweetheart." You blushed a little at that and looked down at your daughter.

"Alright bug, we can go. But make sure you tell Mr. Ryomen thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. Ryomen," your daughter echoed dutifully and he knelt down to ruffle her hair.

"No need to thank me, and I told you, you can both just call me Sukuna."

"Thank you, Sukuna." Sukuna really wanted to kiss you. But he knew that if he did it now it would ruin this perfect chance for you to see what he could be for you, for both of you.

You bring out a car seat that you have in your apartment and you show Sukuna how to install it. Sukuna pays attention because he plans on going on many more trips with the two of you. Maybe the car seat can even just stay here(not yet, not yet, not yet he keeps telling himself).

He encourages you to choose the radio station you listen to on the way over and you choose a throwback station that has you and the kid singing along to. It's nice and warm and Sukuna knows every person he's ever met would be baffled at the scene but it feels too fucking right to care.

He pays once you get there, waving off your protests and you spend all day looking at the exhibits. When you get to the pool where you can pet the stingrays, he lifts your daughter up so she can reach them and shows her how to hold her fingers so the animals will come up to her. He can feel your gaze on him, but this isn't even just for you. The more time he spends with your daughter, the more he feels like she's supposed to be his too.

Finally though, the toddler being a toddler gets hangry and you all stop at the cafe for a light lunch. He watches as you try to persuade your daughter to have some fruit in addition to the cookie she has her eye on and Sukuna pops some of the grapes in his mouth with an exaggerated noise of pleasure, making mini-you copy him.

"Thanks," you tell him as you watch your daughter finish up her fruit. "It was one thing when it was just the vegetables she didn't like but now she's got beef with fruits and I'm worried she's going to end up with scurvy."

"No problem, happy to help." and the thing is, Sukuna is happy to help. He remains happy as you finish going through the aquarium. When your daughter gets too tired, he picks her up and carries her so you can make your way back to your car.

"All tired out, bug," you say, affectionately rubbing her back. He hoists her up higher on his hip as you enter the lobby when an older woman stops you.

"Such a beautiful family you have here," she says waving at the sleepy toddler on Sukuna's hip and he nods as you blush.

Neither of you speak about it, but he wonders if it's on your mind as much as his on your way back to your apartment building. He lets you say your goodbyes as the sleeping girl on your shoulder drools in her sleep.

When Sukuna enters his apartment he leans back against his door and just lets the warmth of the day wash over him. He had known before what he wanted, but now he felt almost desperate.

His days spent in this quiet apartment alone were numbered, and he was going to make sure you knew his intentions as soon as possible.

After all, he still had your car seat.

[supershot73199]

Ok I back with another dcxdp overprotective Danny fic/prompt. No specific ship for this one.

Though Barbara is there this time.

Barbara couldn't help but smile as she looked at all the little kids in the library doing arts and crafts. She loved seeing all the kids different art projects though if she had to be honest she had a favorite little artist.

"Ms Barbara look look! I drew the Signal he looked so cool on his motorcycle!"

Speak of the devil, the little girl proudly running up to show of her art was named Dawn Nightingale a precious four year old who had mistaken Barbara for her Auntie Jazz the first time they met. (Not that Barbara blamed her she had seen a picture of the girls Aunt and they looked almost identical.)

"That looks wonderful why don't you go pin it to the art wall by the door so everyone can see it?" Barbara said as she looked at the surprisingly well done drawing.

As the four year old ran to do so with a cheer Barbara took a quick look over at the girls father, Danny Nightingale was a single father who from what conversations Barbara had with him had his daughter thrust upon him as a teen and was forced to leave home because of prejudiced parents. Despite this he was a natural father and was doing well to care for her even going so far as to be enrolled in engineering courses at Gotham U even while working full time to support his kid.

The single father was helping some of the younger kids while ignoring the single mothers trying to flirt with him with either practiced grace, or density befitting a black hole.

Before she could go to scare off the more persistent women (for Christs sake some of these women were over a decade older than him) there was a sudden bang as the doors to the library burst open revealed the Joker in all his pasty faced glory.

"Well well what fun! A group art project! It's a good thing I was in the area because now you kiddos get to help with Uncle Jokers art. C'mere brat."

Barbara had hit the panic button on her wheelchair the moment the Joker came through the door but she is not too proud to admit that she froze the moment he reached out and grabbed Dawn who had still been near the door hanging up her picture.

She could see the fear on the child she considered an honorary niece and found it hard to listen to what the demented clown was saying. Not that it mattered as before the Joker finished demanding the library patrons do what he said or else he was suddenly stepping back from the heavy blow that an enraged Danny had dealt.

The Joker having let go of Dawn, who ran to Barbara as soon as she was free, could not even seem to muster a defense as Danny beat him right out the door. Every weapon or gag he tried to pull out was either knocked aside or grabbed and used on him. The last thing Barbara saw before the door swung shut was Danny taking the flag gun the Joker tried to pull out and breaking it on the Jokers face.

With her arms now full of crying toddler Barbara did her best to comfort her and just as soon as she managed to calm her the door opening made her look up only to see Danny walking back in.

"Daddy!" The ballistic missile shaped like a toddler leapt into her fathers arms as he held her close.

"It's OK. It's all good. Daddy won't ever let anyone hurt you OK? There isn't anything in this world or the next that will keep me from you."

Barbara turned from the heartwarming display but only because she heard the door opening again thankfully this time it was Signal walking in Barbara figured he must have already secured the Joker since he didn't seem to be in a rush.

"Hey is everyone OK in here? Any injuries? No ok then I'm going to ask you all to stay in here and stay calm until the GCPD can take statements and get done scraping the Joker off the curb." The nervous undercurrent to Dukes voice should have clued Barbara that something was different but then that last statement hit her. Danny must have knocked the Joker out before coming back inside.

Speaking of Danny he was walking over with a Dawn who had fallen asleep in his arms after crying herself out.

"Hey I wanted to thank you for comforting Dawn. This situation was not something she should have been exposed to and I'm glad that she had someone trustworthy nearby to go to. And I am sorry buy I need to ask you one more favor... do you think you could watch Dawn until my sister gets off work if the cops detain me?"

Barbara couldn't help but double take at that.

"I don't mind but I doubt that will happen." She assured.

"Maybe but I did just stain the street with Jokers brain matter. So it's definitely a non zero chance."

Barbara couldn't help it, she was dumbfounded clearly she was mishearing.

"I'm sorry I must be hearing things, it sounded like you said you killed the Joker."

"Yeah I did. I won't let anyone hurt my family especially not that Steven King reject."

The next couple hours passed in a haze of reassuring parents and answering questions from the police for Barbara.

Thankfully Danny was not detained and was allowed to take Dawn home. Though he did ask Detective Bullock if he needed to be worried about and charges being pressed.

"Haha kid your more likely to get a medal or a holiday for this. Everyone has been hurt by that clown in some way.

Later when she was finally able to get the the clock tower she was unsurprised to find Jason waiting for her there. Clearly he had the same idea that she had, that is using her camera outside the library so that she could see what happened for closure.

The pair watched as this young man beat the Joker back at a different angle than when she saw it earlier that day. But shortly after the door shut she saw it happen so fast a trip over the step with Joker having the wind knocked out of him throwing a loose piece of concrete at the single father who caught it and the proceeded to bash the failed jester until he was unrecognizable.

Jason was the first to break the silence.

"I'm going to need a copy of that video and I suggest you make another one to give to Harley at your next girls night with the sirens."

"Deal but only if you get Alfred to help me cook him thank you meal."

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Night Night, Nugget!

PAIRING || Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Fem!Reader x Toddler!OC

WORDCOUNT || 2.3K

SUMMARY || Your nighttime routine may not always be the most conventional when married to an Avenger, but you two have found a way to make it work for your little family. Bucky is often away for missions, which makes the evenings he is home with you and your toddler even more special, and the three of you make them unforgettable each time.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Established relationship. Dad!Bucky Barnes. Kid fic. Use of nicknames. Referenced pregnancy.

SMUT || Grinding. Spooning. Light dirty talk. Praise. Fingering. Sleepy sex. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). Orgasm delay. Multiple orgasms. Cream pie. Cockwarming.

A/N || This one-shot is written based on the request I received from the lovely @pipsqueakkitten! As soon as I saw the request come in, I had a plan for it, and I hope it is everything you've wanted! I want to give my endless thanks to @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading this fic, even though you have a hectic schedule! I'm so proud of you for everything you're doing, bestie, I love you! 💙

EVENTS Masterlist || @fandombingo || Dinosaur cookies Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Book Night || Broken silence Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Frosty || Sleepy sex

Masterlist || @mcukinkbingo || Spooning Masterlist || @multifandom-flash || Glasses are sexy Masterlist || @seasonaldelightsbingo || Buck Bean

GIF: Source || All graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Sunday has been your favorite day of the week for as long as you can remember, but they have become extraordinary since the birth of your now two-and-a-half-year-old son, Onyx. Your happy-go-lucky toddler brightens every room with his excited laughter and endless talking. The fact that he looks exactly like your husband, Bucky, is the cherry on top for you.

Today has been a fun day for all three of you, as you and Bucky have taken Onyx to the large playground Tony has built on the grounds of the Avengers Compound as soon as you told him you're pregnant, and now you're preparing dinner for the three of you.

"Mama is back!" Onyx cheers as you enter the dining room. Bucky is sitting at the table beside his son, waiting for their dinner to be plated.

"Yes, Mama's here! Are you excited for dinner, Nugget?" Bucky asks, and your toddler nods happily, his dark brown curls bouncing with every move of his head. You bend down to kiss him on his head before moving to Bucky, who tips up his face to kiss your lips softly.

As soon as the food is plated for all three of you, Onyx dives in while you and Bucky talk about your husband's day at work, which was surprisingly uneventful for once. Being an Avenger has downsides, especially when he can be called away without a warning.

"Dada?" your son asks after practically smearing half his dinner onto his face and hair.

"Yes, Nugget?" Bucky answers, trying not to burst into laughter as he looks at the macaroni smeared across his forehead and curls.

"I love you," he says shyly, and your heart melts slightly at the sight as your son's cheeks turn a bright shade of red as he says it. It's not unusual for the three of you to show affection towards one another, but his sudden shyness is charming either way.

"I love you too, little Nugget. More than you'll ever know," Bucky tells Onyx with a smile before kissing him on the head, expertly avoiding the cheesy pasta sticking to his curls. A small giggle leaves your son's lips, instantly making you and Bucky smile.

"Mama?" Onyx then asks in a soft tone.

"Yes, little Nugget?" you answer with an arched brow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you already know what's about to come.

"I love you!" Onyx exclaims, bouncing up and down in his high chair. His baby teeth show in a broad, goofy smile, and his eyes shimmer with happiness. Your heart fills with pure joy as you look at him and then at your husband.

"I love you too, Nugget," you say before planting a giant kiss on his cheek, exaggerating the kissing noise as you do. Bucky looks at the both of you with a soft, love-filled expression. The rest of dinner is finished quickly, and then you take Onyx upstairs for a much-needed bath while Bucky clears the table and does the dishes so you two can relax after your son is asleep.

"Are you ready for your bath, Nugget? I put your favorite duckies in there!" you say, and he quickly rushes to the bathroom to watch his colorful array of rubber ducks floating in the bathtub.

"Duckies are swimming," he says excitedly as he points at them. It doesn't take long for Onyx to be between them as you're washing the pasta out of his hair, and he's happily babbling away.

You consider yourself very lucky to be the Mom of such a happy-go-lucky toddler, and being married to the man you fell in love with a little over a decade ago is everything you could ask for, and more.

As you wash the shampoo out of Onyx's hair, your mind drifts to the news you want to tell Bucky later tonight. It's something you had to keep secret for a little while. Today is officially the day you can tell him, and you can't wait to tell your husband the amazing news that you're expecting baby number 2 later this year.

"Do you want me or Daddy to read your bedtime story today?" you ask Onyx as you're drying him off. He doesn't like to stay in the bath for too long, so you pull him out and wrap him in a big, fluffy towel as soon as he's done.

"Daddy tells a story!" he answers, and you nod. Seeing how Bucky isn't always home due to his meetings, he wants his Dad to read to him, and you do it on the nights he's not there. And sometimes he asks for you both to do it, making it a family activity.

"Okay, but first, we must put a diaper on and get you into some jammies. After that, we will cuddle with Dada, and you can get one or two of the dinosaur cookies you love so much," you tell him, and he agrees. Onyx will do practically anything for his dinosaur cookies, and you always have a stock of them on hand, just to be sure.

Soon after, Onyx changed into a clean diaper and his favorite pajamas before you sent him off to Bucky, who made the couch comfortable for the three of you with your toddler's favorite blanket and cookies.

"I'm ready, Dada!" he says as he walks into the living room. Bucky spreads his arms, ready to grab Onyx for a much-needed cuddle. Onyx gets comfortable on Bucky's lap, and Bucky wraps him in his favorite blanket as the cartoons he loves so much play on the TV.

While your son is cuddling with Bucky on the couch, you take a quick shower before changing into one of Bucky's henleys and some sleep shorts combined with your glasses, which is Bucky's favorite thing to see on you. In all fairness, he'd rather see you without clothing, but if he has to choose, he prefers it to be his.

As you walk into the living room, you see Onyx nibbling on his cookie while his gaze is fixed on the TV, but you cross Bucky's gaze as he takes in your appearance. He's having an absolute field day right now, from the wet hair to the glasses, his henley, and your bare legs.

"What's going on in that brain of yours, Barnes?" you ask as you sit next to him on the couch, your brow raised as a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth.

"You," he says with a fond smile, and you immediately smile at him.

"What do you mean, Buck Bean?" you ask, and he can't stop laughing at the nickname.

"I just think your glasses are sexy. They make you look like a sexy librarian or something," he whispers before capturing your lips in a longing kiss. But you don't get to enjoy it for long because Onyx is wiggling his way between you two.

"She's my Mama!" he says before pushing Bucky away, making you both laugh.

"Well, that may be true, but I was here first," Bucky challenges his son, to no avail. He crawls closer to you before cuddling in your lap, his head against your collarbone as he gets comfortable.

"My Mama," he says with a slight pout, and Bucky gives in.

"Okay, you win. You can have her until your bedtime, but after that, she's mine again. How about that?" he asks, and Onyx nods, now smiling again, before grabbing another cookie, which he happily munches on until his eyelids are getting heavy and he's almost asleep in your arms.

"Let's get you to bed, Nugget," Bucky tells his son, who is quickly scooped up before being carried to his bedroom. As always, he gets to pick a story, but before Bucky can get through the entire thing, Onyx is fast asleep. Your husband tugs him in carefully before turning on the nightlight and monitor, and then he joins you on the couch again.

"Welcome back," you say as you kiss Bucky again after he sits down, this time without interruptions. His Vibranium hand is cold against your cheek, and the metal digits softly rub against it, but you don't mind.

You moan softly in his mouth as you fist his shirt, pulling yourself closer to him, and without a second thought, he pulls you onto his lap, where you can already feel his growing erection pressing against your slowly dampening core.

"God, I can never get enough of you, Doll," Bucky whispers against your lips, and you smile into the kiss as you slowly grind your hips over the bulge in his dark jeans. His hands grip your hips as he guides you, and the fabric of your shirt gives you precisely the friction you need to reach your high not long after.

"Hmm, have I told you how sexy you are with these glasses on?" Bucky asks after you've come down from your peak.

"Maybe once or twice," you say with a whisper, and you capture his lips in a soft kiss that leaves him wanting more as he follows your lips when you pull away.

Bucky looks at you with fondness in his eyes, and you can't help but smile as he takes in your features. You're the best thing that has happened to him since he was released from his past in Wakanda, and to this day, he's thanking his lucky stars every day for you.

"I have to tell you something," you tell Bucky, breaking the silence between you. His steel blue eyes are focused on you as his hands lie loose on your hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin under the henley you're wearing.

"You do?" he asks, and you nod.

"I'm pregnant," you blurt out, despite the ''speech'' you had prepared. Now that the moment is here, you couldn't care less about that; instead, you want your husband to know about the baby growing inside you as a token of your shared love.

"Are you serious? I'm going to be a Dad again?!" Bucky asks in disbelief, and you nod as the tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

"You're going to be a Dad again, Bucky! And Onyx is going to be a big brother!" you tell him proudly, and Bucky quickly lifts the fabric of the henley to touch your belly. The contrast between his Vibranium and flesh hand feels comforting, as it reminds you of your husband.

"I-I don't know what to say," he whispers, tears trailing down his cheeks. He already thought his world was complete with you and your son, but this proves how wrong he was about that because his universe could only get better with the addition of your baby.

"I love you so much, Doll," Bucky says before pulling you into a hug. That evening, you two share a whole lot more tears and laughter, thinking back to your first pregnancy and everything you've gone through since giving birth to your son.

Now, you find yourself in bed with your husband, both completely bare and his chest pressed against your back. His Vibranium hand is splayed over your belly as he presses many soft kisses on your shoulder and neck while whispering the sweetest things to you.

"I can't wait until you're showing again, Doll. When your belly is nice and round with my baby," he whispers as he ruts his hips against your butt, his erection trapped between your bodies. You're already starting to get sleepy, but Bucky can't stop lovin' on you since you've told him about your pregnancy.

"B-Bucky," you say in a breathy voice, and his hand trails lower until his cold, metal fingers make contact with your heated, dripping core, and you let out a soft whimper at the feeling of the metal digits playing with your sensitive clit.

"You're doing so well for me, Doll," he whispers as he keeps peppering your neck and shoulder in soft kisses, your breathing getting heavier as he lets his fingers glide through your folds before teasing your entrance.

"Please," you beg softly, and Bucky won't deny you anything when you beg this sweetly for him. Two of his fingers disappear into your entrance, and you bite your lip to supress the loud moan that threatened to escape.

His fingers keep working their magic as he brings you to your high again, but just before you fall over the edge, he pulls out your fingers, leaving you clenching around nothing - however, he's quick to soothe you and your longing pussy.

"Don't worry, Doll, I wanted to be buried inside you as you cum for me; I want to fall over the edge together," he whispers before lifting your leg and hooking it over his, giving him enough space to work his magic between your legs.

"Good girl," he says as he lines up with your entrance. It doesn't take long for him to be buried to the hilt, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. His pace is slow, but it has you feeling every inch of him in this position, feeling him deeper than you thought possible.

"Oh god, you fill me so well, Bucky," you groan as you work your hips in tandem with his, and he keeps up the slow pace as you're both still lingering between wake and sleep, making the fuzziness in your head even more enjoyable.

"Hmm, and you feel so good when you're wrapped around me, Doll," he responds, his thrusts slowly picking up as he gets closer to his high, yours being built up right alongside his own.

"I'm so close, Bucky, please make me cum," you beg again, and his Vibranium fingers move from your hip to your clit, and with a few quick, tight circles on your sensitive bud, you're clenching and milking him for all he's worth, his cum spilling deep inside you.

"I love you so much, Doll, and I can't wait to meet our baby," Bucky whispers after working you both through your highs, and you sigh contently. Not long after, you fall asleep with Bucky buried inside you, and you both have some of the best night's sleep you've had in a long time.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Claire De Lune || Alexia Putellas

reader and alexia have a child together. angst. inspired by one of my favorite songs.

warnings : death, mentions of pregnancy. do not read if this makes you uncomfortable.

It all happened so fast.

“Ellie, stop running please!” Alexia begged, laughing as her daughter giggled loudly. You sat at the top of the hill smiling, plating up the sandwiches you had made at home. The picnic table was full of all your girls’ favorite snacks, and Ellie’s toys were scattered on the plaid blanket right next to you. She had her little football to kick around with her mother, her pretty sequin shoes abandoned next to your purse in favor of her custom bright pink cleats.

You hear your wife’s huffing and puffing as she treks back up the slightly steep hill. In her arms was a squirming toddler who had her giggle and cheeky smile. You stand and pretend to look mad, hands already on your hips with a slight smirk on your face.

“Did you run away from Mama again, sweetie?” you tease, taking Ellie from your wife’s arms. She nods and buries her face in your neck, skin hot and flushed from all her running.

“Did she outrun you, my love?” you ask Alexia with a smile, holding Ellie in one arm and popping a strawberry in your mouth with the other.

“Like a bat out of hell, she’s gotten that speed from you.”

Before you could clap back at your wife, Ellie tugs at your shirt and whines that she’s hungry. You sit with her under the warm Barcelona sky as the sun begins to set, handing her a little ham and cheese sandwich which is her favorite at the moment. She happily munches on her food and you look at Alexia who was looking at you. She reaches out her arm for you and you hold it across the table. It was a perfect little family day and you would trade it for nothing but a chance to do it again.

There was no time to think.

You wake up in the middle of the night to Ellie screaming for you. Alexia sits up at the same time and scrambles out of bed with you. You rush into her bedroom and see that she’s crying and sitting on the edge since she wet the bed. She rushes into your arms and you scoop her up, cradling her close. Alexia rubs her back and holds you close, soothing your daughter so she can tell you what was wrong.

“Bad dream Mommy,” she sobs into your neck, her clothes starting to dry and her body beginning to shiver. You take her into the bathroom and get her cleaned up as Alexia changes the sheets. You walk out of the bathroom 15 minutes later to Ellie’s bed made and her clean pajamas warmed up a little in the dryer.

Alexia dresses her and you find her nightlight to bring back to your room. Alexia walks into your room with a dead-asleep toddler and her favorite blankie clutched tight to her face. You plugged the little dinosaur nightlight into the wall next to your bed as Alexia gently climbed into bed with your daughter. You pulled Spotify up and turned on Clair De Lune which helped Ellie sleep. She nestled herself right into Alexia’s chest exactly how you did, leaving a soft smile on your wife’s face. You climbed in beside her and fell asleep immediately, Alexia’s heart feeling full as her girls fell asleep safe in her arms.

You never thought you’d come face to face with your worst nightmare.

“Ellie collapsed while playing football today. We’ve sent her to the nurse’s office but I think it’s best if you take her to the hospital just in case.”

Alexia ran. Faster than she ever has on the pitch. The sound of her cleats rang through the hallways of the Johan Cruyff stadium the moment she got off the phone with you. The look of panic on her face said all she needed to Jonatan and the rest of the girls.

The number of traffic laws she broke would guarantee fines that could amount to her entire week’s salary but she didn’t care. The fear in your voice and the sound of you being close to tears was all the more reason for her to have her foot on the pedal right to the floor. Her Cupra roared as she sped down the highway, tears threatening to fall.

She had one cleat and a slipper on as she rushed into the emergency room, eyes searching for you. You were sat alone at the end of the hallway, head in your hands. She called out your name and you looked up at her, unable to hold it together any longer. You broke just as she grabbed and pulled you into her arms. Alexia couldn’t hold it together the moment you cried in her chest and she broke down too.

“Where is she?” Alexia asked after your crying subsided and she managed to pull herself together.

“She fainted again when I picked her up and they took her…the nurses haven’t said anything either, I’ve asked.”

Alexia stood and kissed your hair, walking over to the nurses’ station just as she heard her last name being called.

“Mrs. Putellas?” the doctor asked, walking out of the trauma room with a look of concern.

“What’s wrong with my daughter?” you jump out of your seat and hurry over, Alexia’s arm immediately around you.

“I need you to come with me,” she said cryptically. You and Alexia follow her into a little discussion room and your heart sinks.

You sit and reach for Alexia whose hand finds yours immediately. She holds it tight in her lap and you listen to the doctor break the news no parent should ever hear.

“She’s dying.”

“No!” you wail, falling into Alexia’s arms. You sob and feel your heart break into a billion pieces, pain just excruciating at the thought of losing your daughter.

Alexia held you tight and listened to the doctor as she explained your daughter’s next steps on how to care for her and how to keep her comfortable. When the doctor left, Alexia held your face in her hands, her tears of pain and anguish mirrored yours.

“We’re doing to do everything we can for her, mi amor. I promise we will get through this.”

But she was a miracle.

Alexia stood in the bathroom with you, nervously biting her cuticles. You sat on the counter and swung your legs, eyes locked on the timer on your phone in your lap.

“How much longer?” Alexia asked, standing right in front of you between your legs.

“2 minutes,” you whisper, hesitantly looking up at her.

“Okay, don’t look so worried amor.”

“What if it’s negative again?” you say, watching the numbers on the timer go lower and lower. She takes your hands in her big ones and you feel their warmth. She kisses them both and caresses her hands up your arms. They gently move down your back and pull your hips closer to the edge. Your hands rest on her chest and she smiles up at you when there’s a minute left on the timer.

“We’re going to have the most beautiful baby, amor. He or she will be perfect in every shape and form. She will have your gorgeous hair and your silly laugh. She will have your mother’s eyes and your father’s smile. She will play football for Blaugrana because I said so.”

You smack her chest and roll your eyes, yelling in shock when the timer goes off. You physically feel your blood pressure skyrocket and your anxiety tingles in your chest. You gently jump off the counter and reach for Alexia’s hand. She takes the test in her hand and slowly turns it over. You’ve got your hands over your eyes and you can barely breathe before she gasps. You’re about to start crying when she whispers the words you’ve been waiting to hear for three years.

“It’s positive.”

She drops the test on the counter and picks you up, hugging you tight. She puts you down and your lips smash together, excited for your miracle baby to enter your lives.

Nine months and the easiest labor all the nurses told you, you held Ellie in your arms. She was the most beautiful thing you ever laid your eyes on. She was gorgeous, a perfect blend of you and Alexia.

She grew up in the blink of an eye, taking her first steps in the gym of Johan Cruyff, saying Mommy as her first word much to Alexia’s chagrin, her first birthday in Eli’s backyard with all the Barça girls, the girls doting on her every time she followed Alexia to training, playdates with Mateo and being pampered by Alexia when you were away for work.

Now at 6 years old, how do you explain to a child that she’s going to die?

I’ll hold your hand till the very end.

No parent should ever bury their child. Everyone knows there is no pain like losing a child. Ellie was in no pain as she deteriorated. She lost all of her beautiful brown hair in three weeks since you found out her diagnosis. She couldn’t go to school and could barely kick a football with Mama. It broke Alexia’s heart when Ellie could no longer pass balls to her in the backyard. You put Ellie to bed for the night and cradled an inconsolable Alexia in your arms for an hour till she stopped crying.

To everyone’s surprise, Alexia was the one whose face was not without a tear even for a second. You held it together well, making all the necessary arrangements to make Ellie as comfortable as possible. After everything was done, you drove home together, hand in hand in your lap. No words were exchanged but all the words that needed to be said were said.

The moment the front door locked, it was like a dam was broken. The wail you let out was a sound that even Alexia had never heard you make before. The pain in your chest was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest at the thought of having to wake up without Ellie jumping on your bed begging for Alexia to make her breakfast.

Alexia could only hope that time would put you back together and that the loss of a child wasn’t something that would ruin you both past the point of no return.  

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

II Childe’s Anger II

There's a darker side to Childe that he never lets you see. The wild temper he struggles to keep under lock and key in your presence. You were his everything, his one and only, his family---so when he almost loses you, that temper snaps forward like a venemous snake.

childe x fem!reader II angst, hurt/comfort.

word count: 2,865 cash money

content warnings: Descriptions of anger (mention of throwing things but not at reader or in reader's presence), descriptions of injury.

It doesn't matter how angry you make him or how horrible what you've done is, Childe can always be swayed by you. You could tear off his right arm then sell it for pocket change and he'd still only be able to resist your honeyed words and doe-eyed pleas for about a minute. He just turns into a goofy-faced pile of mush at any hint of romantic attention you give him, no matter how long you’ve been a couple. Usually, if you've pissed him off, all it takes for him to forgive you is a couple sweet cooings about how he's your favorite man in the world and that you'll only ever belong to him. Hearing those promises from you lights his skin on fire, and he just can't help himself from taking your wrist and tugging you up to his lips. But this time…this time you've really done something unforgivable…

You put yourself in danger.

The night before was a good night; you’d made dinner for Childe, you two snuggled on the couch, you watched a movie on the television he’d gotten from a trip to Fontaine—it was sweet and romantic and relaxing…

Until you brought up a sore subject.

While snuggled up in his lap, cheek resting on his chest, him all but purring in content and happiness, you found it the appropriate time to bring up your intentions for tomorrow.

“Ajax…", they way you sweetly say his birth name never fails to make him melt, "There’s a commission up for grabs at the Adventurer's Guild…someone is lost in the chasm and they want an adventurer to conduct the search.”

“Hmm that’s nice.”, he hummed absentmindedly, resting his chin on the top of your head and hugging you just a little tighter. He has a habit of getting too absorbed into movies; it’s actually quite cute—watching his awe-struck face and twinkling eyes on the screen. He’s like an excited little kid, lost in the movie and the feeling of you in his arms.

“I’d like to take the job.”

Silence.

You almost thought he hadn’t heard you until he stiffly reached for the remote beside his thigh and shut off the TV completely.

“…what was that?”

Something you’ve come to learn about Childe after dating him for so long is: beyond his charming, flippant character in the face of danger, and beyond his unserious approach to dire circumstances…When it comes to the protection of those he loves…he has a temper.

An easily struck temper.

“Childe. I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry abou—“

“Absolutely not. You’re not going.”, he said with that edge of finality to his voice you’ve come to be very familiar with, before standing from your shared seat and walking to the kitchen. Putting distance between you two.

Leaning over the back of the couch to look at him---not letting him escape this conversation, you argue, “It’s not your decision. I wasn’t asking. I was letting you know.”.

Normally, you’d be more gentle with your reasoning—carefully explain the safety measures you’ll take and advocate for your skills as an adventurer. But, after playing out this scene with Childe a countless number of times…

No, you can’t go there. No, you can’t do that. Treating you like a toddler that can’t handle herself...

You had, understandably, grown tired of it.

Even from the meters of space between you two, you could see the telltale signs of Childe’s unsavory, protective side rearing it’s head. The set of his jaw, the way he white-knuckles the edge of the counter he’s leaning on…the way he won’t look at you.

There was a long silence between you two—Childe a menacing statue in your kitchen. You weren’t sure if he was even breathing.

You sat there for what felt like ages—starting to get worried about if Childe was ok…would his knuckles break from how hard he’s holding onto that counter?

Finally, he spoke, his voice caught between a breathy exhale and a rumbling growl.

“If you try to go…

…I will keep you in this house until the commission is over.”

You knew he would.

Even with his demanding job, he’d find a way.

So you had no choice but to relent.

“Ok…I won’t go.”

Childe hated being like this—he hated imposing on you, hated the way he reacted to these sorts of things. He couldn’t keep his cool.

But it’s your safety. You're his family now, the most precious thing in the world to him—if anything happened to you…he’d lose himself. He’d go mad and burn every inch of this world down. It would be worthless garbage if you weren't in it.

So he had to be like this. He had to protect you. At any cost. Even if it upsets you, even if it makes you hate him, he’ll keep doing it. As long as he lives, he’ll put himself right between you and any threat—even if it displeases you. Even if he knows you can handle it yourself. Childe doesn’t take risks when it comes to you.

He felt guilty. And when he feels guilty he goes quiet, and distant. His vices are embedded within him—even if he apologizes, they won’t go away. It’s hard to apologize for...yourself. And it’s even harder for him to apologize for himself to you—the beautiful, endlessly loving, perfect person...who made the mistake of wandering into this controlling monster’s life.

You didn’t believe that, but he did.

So he went to his office.

And stayed there the rest of the night.

———

He wasn’t in bed with you when you woke up, when you turned over to reach for him only to get a fistful of cold sheets.

He wasn’t there when you checked his office, either.

...so he didn’t notice when you left to take the commission.

He may be your boyfriend, but he wasn’t your warden. He couldn’t control your actions or tell you what to do. Especially after losing his cool and leaving you to sleep alone last night. If he was just going to disappear on you, then you could disappear on him.

…you knew it was horrible reasoning, but you were too stubborn to turn back.

And what do you know? Horrible reasoning leads to horrible outcomes.

You got hurt. And not hurt like the usual cuts and scrapes you get on your dailies. No. Real hurt. You-could’ve-lost-your-life hurt.

All you had to do today was a quick check in with the search party, a little reconnaissance, and then you’re back before Childe knows it.

But during your reconnaissance, your glider was torn by a stalagmite, obscured by the darkness of the cave, causing you to land on an unsteady wooden mining structure that collapsed beneath your weight. You fell along with the rubble to the bottom of the pitch-black tunnel—your arm crushed by a wooden beam.

And you were lucky. If you hadn’t landed in a pile of corrupted muck, you could’ve died from the blunt force of the fall, but it was still killing you. Slowly. Painfully.

You were stuck, thousands of miles from the man you loved, dying, and he had no idea where you were—wondering if you’re safe. Worse, he could be out looking for you. You can picture his expression clear as day; Childe never shows terror, but when it’s you in danger, his mask falls faster than you did to the bottom of this mineshaft. You can see the fear in his wide, blue eyes. You can hear the desperation in his voice, bordering on a scream as he calls for you—his throat raspy from how long he’s been yelling for you. You can feel his heavy, labored footsteps shake the ground as he clamors around every inch of Liyue harbor in search for you. He would rather die than lose you, so his expression is that of a dying man as he searches desperately, despairingly for you. The image you know is playing out layers and layers of earth above you breaks your heart a million times over—this is your last regret. You left Childe in anger, and now he’ll never see you again.

Your vision finally faded as the corruption overtook you.

———

Childe is one to give the silent treatment, because he doesn't want to fly off the handle and say something he can't take back---so when you wake in your shared bed, your back pressed up against his chest as he holds you securely, you'll have to live through his hard gaze, his set, flexed jaw, and his silence.

“…Ajax?”

Nothing.

You try to shift but he holds you in place like a splint. And after you blink the sleep out of your eyes, you see why.

Your heavily bandaged arm is splayed out to the side of the bed; the bandages cover the various screws and other work put in by healers to preserve what they could of your arm. In your rest, Childe had been holding you still so you wouldn’t roll over and harm yourself further by moving it.

“…they don’t know if you’ll be able to use it again.”, he says, grimly. The first thing he’s said to you since you woke. He said it like it was a personal slight against him—like you broke something he loved with all of his heart. And you did. That’s exactly what you did.

“Childe…I’m so sorry.”, your voice cracks as you speak, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

He’s silent again. His jaw looks like it might break from how hard he’s biting down on his words. You’ve never gotten the full brunt of the vitriol he’d spit if he didn’t strangle it down—but you’ve heard him give it to others.

He didn’t know you were just beyond the door of his office when he was chewing out his subordinates for a careless mistake that jeopardized an important shipment; you never knew how unforgiving and cruel you boyfriend could be before that day. The way his voice came out in a terrifying snarl, he sounded more animal than man—to the point that you couldn’t believe it was him, considered that maybe you had the wrong office, until you peeked in and saw. His wild eyes, his sharp, chaotic gesticulations, the way he threw the contents of his desk onto the ground in frustration—apathetic to if anything or any one broke. He’d always been so sweet and understanding with you, you’d never even seen him frown, but the way he spoke to those Fatui soldiers…it revealed something fundamental about him to you.

It took you a lot of time to make sense of it, a lot of thinking and insecurity and fear but you realized…the Childe you knew really was jubilant and kind, he was caring and attentive and generous…but he also really was the man you saw and heard in that office that day. The only difference was who he was talking to.

He was still your Childe. He always would be. But he was only yours. So the rest of the world got to see the ugly he hid from you. The ugly that would seep out of him—clouding his gaze in a menacing, red mist, that would turn his grip from gentle to an inescapable vice…that made him say things he didn’t mean.

So no matter what honest and loving words you utter to him, he is unresponsive, and will remain so until he's cooled down enough to organize his thoughts and deal with you.

But you don't want to wait. You don't want to go to bed with only a rigid "Goodnight." from him. After what you’d done today, you weren’t sure if he’d ever speak to you again—what if, once you healed, he’d leave? The thought horrified you. So you had to get him to speak. You had to.

Gently resting the fingertips of your working hand on the white knuckles of Childe's harshy closed fist securing your waist, you say—your voice shaky with tears but still sweet and considerate of him, "Sweetheart...would you open this for me? I'm worried you're going to hurt youself...".

From how hard he was squeezing, it was possible his nails were digging into his palm. He didn't relent at your touch, his gaze averted to the wall just past your head. That was your fault, of course, because no matter how upset you make him, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world in his eyes. His gorgeous little girlfriend, the one he works so hard to keep safe and happy, the girl he’d do absolutely anything for. If he were to look at you, look into your beautiful doe eyes, and see those eyes full of tears? He’d lose his resolve. He’s angry with you. You did something unforgivable today. So he just couldn’t look. From the pink dusting his cheeks, you could tell he was fighting not to ogle you. Since he doesn’t open up, you slide your hand over his fist to hold it—he doesn’t stop you.

“Childe…talk to me…please?”. You sound so helpless calling out to him like that. Every instinct in his body screams to run and protect you, to respond and give you anything you need. But the only response you get from him is how he tightens his grip around you ever so slightly. Like he’s assuring himself that you’re fine—you’re safe in his arms.

“Childe…please.” the sob that caught in your throat at that please finally broke him. Brought a crack down the middle of the dam of anger and panic he had reinforced and reinforced again while you were asleep.

His voice came out in a quiet, but dangerous rumble. You felt it in your chest before you heard it.

“I don’t see why you think it’s ok to needlessly put yourself in danger like this.”

If he would’ve said anything else, you wouldn’t have argued. You knew you were in the wrong for telling him you wouldn’t go and going anyway. You knew you were in the wrong for getting hurt in a place where he couldn’t find you. You knew you were in the wrong for how you handled the whole thing.

…but you weren’t in the wrong for doing your job.

“It’s not needless, it’s my job…”, you said, gentle as possible. You weren’t going to snap at him, but this was important to you. He had to understand, “…you do the same thing…”

“You’re my girl. You don’t need a job.”

“I can’t just sit alone in the house all day.”

“Then get a safer job. Start a flower shop. I’ll pay for it.”

“Adventuring is what I’m good at. It’s what I love.”

“You’re supposed to love me!”

And there it was. He raised his voice at you.

The way you flinched did not escape his gaze.

He was a monster and he knew it. He knew he didn't deserve you but he couldn't let you go. No matter how much he told himself he only exists to your detriment...he couldn't. let. go.

Like a dragon that stays atop it's hoard even as the walls of it's cave collapse around it. Like a raccoon fishing a coin out of a small hole---no matter how hard he tries to pry both of you out, knowing you're both stuck in his grip, he can't let go.

With that, he clamped down on his jaw again, drawing his arms back from around you and getting out of bed. He broke for the door but your helpless cry cemented his feet to the floorboards.

"Please, Ajax...please don't leave me."

You were used to how Childe would run from you in guilt--the monster, Grendel, fleeing from Herot to his cave, but this time, you just couldn't brave it. You needed him right now.

He just couldn't understand how you could bear to have him in your presence.

He felt ugly, embarrassed and ashamed, but the desperate tambre in your voice told him you wanted him. Even in his worst moments, you wanted him.

So he returned to your side, kneeling at the side of the bed like a devotee, his face just before yours and his rough hand reaching our to cup your cheek---so gentle, like he was convinced you'd shatter in his grasp. His lips were held in a firm line, but his eyes were wells of love and devotion for you.

Only for you.

"Ajax...I love you."

With his deep sigh, the pressure in the room was alleviated--fresh, new oxygen renewed into the space. The tension in his knuckles, his shoulders, and his jaw was finally released. With those three words, he had melted into the Ajax you knew, your Ajax.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

There was a moment where you two were just, you two. Where he stroked your cheek with his thumb and gazed into your beautiful eyes--his own held that special little sparkle that was typically lost in the void. The sparkle only you get to see.

With a hum, he let's go of you and stands.

"I'll get you some food."

And with your simple nod, he left. But this time, you knew he'd be back.

[mooshywrites]

What they’d be like as a dad

Bg3 men and fatherhood

Masterlist

Art Commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Astarion ~

~ Astarion wasn’t sure he wanted to be a father at first

~ After all, kids require a lot of attention and affection, things he was still learning to give

~ So when he realized he was going to be a father, he was a nervous wreck for a while

~ Everything changed when he held his pale little bundle of blanket

~ After that, he was almost obsessive

~ His favorite was the toddler phase, he loved walking around and seeing your little one see discover everything in the world for the first time

~ He was a little too indulgent, though he’d never admit it. There was nothing his baby could point to that he’d say no to

~ Even if he had to steal it

~ In the evenings, you’d find him sitting in front of the fireplace, snuggled close with the baby

~ “I want to give you everything I never had and more”

Wyll ~

~ Wyll was excited to be a dad and was very present through the whole process

~ He worked a lot, but made sure to spend as much time as possible with his kid

~ Even when he wasn’t home, he talked about the baby all the time

~ He told everyone who would listen everything new the kid had learned, proudly boasting about their accomplishments

~ His favorite part of the day was coming home from a long day as the Duke, being tackled by their clingy kid

~ He’d laugh and clean up, sitting with them to patiently hear about their day

~ He always brought home gifts for you both, little snacks or a new toy that had caught his eye

~ He was the perfect playmate, he loved making wooden swords and props to pretend

~ At dinner time, he made sure everyone got a full plate before he fixed one himself

~ Then he’d ask around the table, making sure to give his child undivided attention

~ “The highest honor I could ever receive is being called your father”

Halsin ~

~ Halsin was made to be a dad and wanted a big family

~ In the end, he had a mixed herd of orphans he’d adopted, kids he’d fathered, and a few mystery cases

~ It didn’t matter if they were blood or not, he loved them all the same

~ Halsin’s a very patient dad, he loved to teach the kids everything he knew about the world

~ He memorized each of their favorite fruits, making sure to stop and gather them often

~ He loved when the herd gathered around him and begged him to turn into a bear, using him as a giant furry jungle gym

~ Those days usually ended in a big sleeping pile, all the kids snuggled into his soft fur

~ His kids were his entire world, and he knew each of their personalities well

~ It wasn’t rare at all for each kid to have a collection of whittled toys, each personalized to them

~ “Guiding you through life is my greatest joy and my deepest pride”

Gale ~

~ Gale was nervous, but excited to be a dad

~ Tara was absolutely exasperated by the amount of questions he asked her, saying she was too old to remember how to raise a Dekarios

~ So he started researching instead

~ The two of you could have built an entire nursery with the parenting books he bought

~ He relaxed quite a bit after the baby was born, falling into fatherhood in a beautifully natural way

~ He loved sitting with your child and entertaining them, spending hours casting little spells

~ He made sure the baby never felt lonely, helping them sneak in all sorts of creatures

~ He loved when the kids hit school age and took interest in all of their hobbies

~ The house was an absolute mess of crafts and experiments, Gale never said no to exploring a theory

~ He was always a safe place for your kid to go to, he had the best listening ear and advice

~ “There isn’t enough time in the world for me to tell you how proud I am of you”