#i think he'd be an alright father

[fruityvermint]

@ my last post on this au, which I'll call The Three's Dads for now. Here's more on Ashfur and Jayfeather's relationship

It's unrealistic to assume Ashfur would be,, completely cooperative with this. He'd definitely have beef (AGAIN) with Lionblaze as an entire entity and I think he'd just be very awkward with Hollykit (specified as Hollykit cause their relationship would change, for better or worse, as she gets older) BUT I think he'd be very protective of Jaykit, and when Jaypaw's like I want to be a warrior, and the clans like 'ehhh' Ashfur would go "Yeah, there's no way I'm raising a pussy, I'LL mentor him." Firestar goes ":/ sure" cause he wanted to give Lionpaw to Ashfur cause he's clearly losing it, but whatever.

I think he'd do a pretty decent job. Brightheart is his sister-in-law, so I think she'd be comfortable to offer help and know he'd accept, which he definitely would. As proud as he is, he wouldn't know how to quite work around Jaypaw's disability, while Brightheart would have a better idea. Ashfur would be very proud of Jaypaw, I think he'd boast about him a lot, and he'd also be a big influence of Jaypaw's sass and sarcasm.

I think they'd be close, and Jaypaw would also teach him kinda how to open up and be less insecure because they both struggle a lot with that.

[doubledyke]

it doesn't really make sense in the logic (lol) of the show but part of me loves the idea that edd is being raised by his grandparents.... kids who are raised by grandparents tend to be overly mature and a little uhhhhh off-beat. i feel like it could explain a lot.

[werecreature-addicted]

….mating press w a werewolf while he mumbles “get pregnant” over and over🥲🥲🥲🥲

anon you can't say these things to meeeeeeeeee



fucking- alright. Imagine being a cute little human with no fucking clue about the volatile breeding kink your werewolf boyfriend has. anything domestic you do has him hard as a rock. you're just trying to do dishes and all he can think about is making you his cute little house spouse, full of his puppies.

He's obsessed with wolf-courting rituals. his home is always cozy but maybe just a bit too big for two people, hint hint. he spoils you with expensive gifts and tons and tons of food. As much as he loves seeing you do domestic things he also loves showing off how good he can be around the house. He would be such a good husband! He would be such a good father! So hurry up and ditch the birth control already-

God help you if you mention anything about wanting to get married or have kids he will take that as an open invitation to knock you up. he can smell when you're ovulating and he basically doesn't let you leave the bed, he's so busy pounding you full of his cum. he calls you his "bitch in heat" while he does it too.

Really though I like to imagine his breeding kink really only comes out in the middle of sex. you think you're just having a romantic night but then he's got your ankles over his shoulders and he's moaning about how he's going to knock you up.

" 'm gonna cum in this sweet pussy and make you a mommy. you'll take it, right? Be a good bitch and take it all for me-"

and of course, as he fucks himself deeper into you he can't help but moan "get pregnant" over and over again. you can't really tell if he's talking to himself or commanding you to get pregnant already, and with the way he's bullying his thick cock into you, you don't have the mental energy to do anything but moan- let alone ask for clarification.

He knots you. Of course. As if it's even a question. He loves watching your stomach bloat with his cum and there's just so much of it, some of it can't help but slip out around the base of his knot. all the more reason to fuck it back into you.

If for whatever reason he couldn't knot you, he'd make you wear a plug, to keep his seed inside of you when you go to work or are out of the house. he likes that it makes you smell like him. he likes knowing that you're full of him even when you two are apart.

[entitled-fangirl]

Indeed, my girl.

Cregan Stark x Velaryon!reader

Summary: The reader is dealing with the grief of losing Luke. Cregan helps in the ways he can.

Warnings: Talks of attempted sa, Threatening, Talks of death, cursing, mental health

Masterlist

................................................................

She hadn't been the same since the death of her younger brother. 

Cregan had noticed it. 

Fewer meals, fewer baths, fewer words, and fewer movements entirely. 

As if the grief was killing her from the inside. 

And he could only watch.

He was a man of action. He'd killed men with his bare heads for far less.

And he could only watch as grief was murdering his wife. 

...

"There's something on your mind," he stated from the doorway of their shared chambers.

She sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. 

When she made no motion to look at him, he walked to her, kneeling down with a hand on her back, "I wish I knew what you think so much about."

She shook her head as she stared at the flames. Her voice was hoarse, "No, you don't."

He tilted his head, "Try me."

She turned and looked at him from over her shoulder. 

Only then did he notice the hollowing of her cheeks. 

The dark circles under her eyes. 

She sniffled, "Does the pain go away?"

He felt his chest tighten. 

The death of his own younger brother. 

His brother had died years ago.

"No."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"You just learn to live with it." He said awkwardly. 

Starks were not made for emotions.

She turned to him completely now, abandoning warmth of the fire, "How?"

"I dunno. It just happens one day." He looked off in thought. "You forget about it for a while. But…" 

She felt herself leaning into every word.

"You still see him in every first snow of the winter. Every pine tree with missing branches." He lets out a strained laugh, "And every fucking rabbit."

She shifted herself closer, wiping at her cheeks. "I… I see him. When I close my eyes."

He nods, "You will. You always will."

"I haven't felt this since," she pauses, "Since… Ser Harwin died."

Ser Harwin Strong.

Her biological father.

"And did that ever go away?" He asked quietly.

She sniffled, "No. But it became easier with time. When…" Her eyes flooded with tears again, "When I forgot what he looked like."

He couldn't help the coo from his throat as he immediately pulled her into his lap.

"What if I forget what he looks like, Cregan?" She asked in horror.

He tucked her face into his neck, "It'll be alright."

"What if… if this was my fault?" She sobbed into him.

"How could it ever be your fault, my girl?" He asked calmly.

Her shoulder shook with hiccups, "Like… with… with Harwin… and I… it's… it's my fault…"

He pulled her away from him to look into her eyes, "What do you mean?"

"I had… and when…" 

"Shh," he immediately cooed. "Tell me when you're ready. " His hands brushed her cheeks gently, catching stray tears as she tried to steady her breathing. 

After a while, she managed it enough to speak, "I was the reason… Harwin was sent away."

His brows furrowed, "I'm not understanding you, sweet girl."

"He was sent away for… for defending us as bastards against Ser Criston. And… Harwin was already mad at Criston because of me."

Cregan hummed, "Alright?"

"I look like him but… I… I looked like my mother then. And… Criston at one point liked my mother very much. And… and in turn, he began to take a liking to me."

Cregan's jaw clenched at the sound of where the story was going. 

"One night, I… I was going to my chambers and… and he pinned me to the wall and… tried to… sully me."

His hands that were on her hips tightened and his eyes darkened, "What?"

"You took my maidenhead, Cregan. You know that."

Her words did little to comfort him. "But how far did he get? I'll fucking kill him myself."

"I'm fine. I got out. And… I told Harwin. He promised to deal with it the next day and… Criston questioned our parentage that day. That day it all happened and he was sent away. To die in that stupid fucking fire." She leaned back, "If I had just kept it to myself, he wouldn't have been so angry-"

"-No. No. Don't even begin to say that," Cregan said firmly as he took her face in his hands again. "You did it all right."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"I know it doesn't."

"Luke looked like him the most."

He pulled her to him again. 

Her voice grew low, "I'll kill them all."

Cregan stared at the flames of the fireplace. 

He was quiet for a while, until his voice came out strong and firm, "The North remembers."

She leaned away, rubbing at the few tears that still laid on her cheeks. "The Greens don't know what they've done."

"Aye. They don't."

Here, in Winterfell, the two lovers began to find solace in each other. 

"You're the only other person that I…"

Cregan hung on every word now. He spoke in a low murmur, "Say it. You can say it to me."

"-I've never told anyone else what happened with Cole. Besides Harwin. Just… you."

He felt a protective feeling surge through him. Nothing was getting through him to her, he'd make sure of that.

"You remind me of him, you know."

He paused, "Who, my girl?"

"Harwin."

His lips parted, "How…. How so?"

Her hands moved his face, caressing his cheeks until they grew firm, "You wouldn't let anything fucking touch me either."

He could've let that smirk grow more on his face, but he kept it suppressed, "I won't let anyone or anything touch you, my girl. I swear it."

She hummed, relaxing, "Much like him. Like home."

Cregan let a smile come across his face, "I'm honored I'm like home to you, sweet Princess."

"He…" She smiled, recalling a memory, "He had taught my brothers the sword. As a girl, I had no luxury. But… in secret, he gave me lessons with throwing knives."

His head tilted, impressed, "He taught you how to throw knives?"

"He was a talented man."

"Aye."

"That's how I did it."

"Did what, pretty?"

She paused, taking a deep breath, "How… I defended myself. Cole, he… he pinned me to the wall. When he was distracted, I pulled my knife on him and threatened him with something… too unladylike to say."

Cregan Stark felt a deep surge of pride flow through his body at her confession. "Tell me."

"Oh, no. It's… it's too crude."

His hands moved to her thighs, "Please, wife. I must know."

"I threatened to… 'take the thing that he thinks with' and... I did not mean his head."

Cregan let out a bark of a laugh, throwing his head back dramatically. 

When he came back to, his smile never left, "My little dragon of a wife. It seems you're just full of fire!"

She smiled, "Is that a bad thing?"

He pulled her closer to him, "Absolutely not." His lips brushed hers, "I'm quite fond of it."

"Good," she whispered. 

Their lips connected in a soft kiss.

"They'll pay. I promise." Cregan said as he pulled away. "Starks don't forget oaths."

"Winter is coming. Isn't it, Cregan?"

He smiled, "Indeed, my girl."

.........................................................................

[whateveriwant]

I know it's a little late but this Father's Day, I'm thinking about childhood best friend Simon who's secretly in love with you.

You've known Simon since forever – long before the emergence of “Ghost”, his enlistment in the military, or, hell, even before his voice dropped three octaves. To you, Simon Riley was your best friend, the one person in life you could always count on to be there for you. And to Simon, the feeling was mutual, but his feelings towards you also extended well beyond that sentiment, far surpassing what you ever realized.

From an early age, Simon knew you were the love of his life, but he could never bring himself to admit that to you. He was always too shy, too self-conscious, too scared to fuck up everything you two had if he told you the truth. So instead, he kept his love for you a secret, and just focused on being the best friend any girl could ask for.

For a while, it was nice simply being your friend, and Simon played the part with ease. But once you entered the dating scene, everything seemed to change. Now, not only did Simon have to hide his feelings for you, he was forced to sit back and watch as you gave your love to another. Though it tore him up inside to witness, Simon still chose to stick by you anyway. He was your friend first and foremost, and so your friend he'd continue to be.

Through every new relationship, every whirlwind romance, and every eventual heartbreak you endured, Simon was always right there beside you, lending himself over in whatever manner you needed. Even as one came along that you swore was different from the others, Simon was skeptical, but he supported you regardless. And now, nearly five years into your marriage, he supposes you were right after all.

So color Simon surprised when you wind up beside him on his couch one night, crying your eyes out, trying to drown your sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. You explain how, for almost a year, you and your husband have been trying for a baby, to no success. You've done everything; ovulation tracking, fertility tests, a revolving door of doctors to try finding out what the issue is. By all accounts, there doesn't appear to be any physical concerns preventing you from conceiving. As for your husband, well, he hasn't been as diligent in determining his role in this.

You're now at a point in your life where you feel like time is working against you. You want nothing more than to have a baby of your own, and if you and your husband aren't capable of doing that, you're not sure what there is that's left for you.

As you sob into the crook of Simon's neck, he finds his neurons begin firing at an alarming rate. Quicker than he'd like, an idea takes root in his mind, and though it's bad – fucking heinous is what it is – it burrows itself into his grey matter until it's all he can focus on. While he hates himself for thinking of it (hates himself more for the way his stomach flips at the thought), there's nothing that hurts him more right now than having you in his arms so utterly distraught.

So before he can convince himself of another idea, Simon raises your head from his shoulder and tenderly cups your face between his palms. When he leans in to kiss you, a moment he's dreamed about for years, he's not surprised as you startle against him. But he holds steady, melding his lips to yours, until he feels you gradually melt into it. As he hushes the voices in his head, he plucks up his last bit of courage, and finds no resistance as he slowly guides you onto your back.

It's alright, sweetheart. He's here for you. He's going to help you out.

He'll give you the baby you so desperately desire, because that's what best friends are for, right?

[bonefanatic]

pt 2 to this post, can be read as a standalone but makes more sense if you've read the first part. reader isn't wearing a suit but remains pretty androgynous (i think). also yes i included steph's baby fight me idc

not beta read pls don't make fun of me

Why had you agreed to this?

A coworker had invited you to a gala, something about representing the company. You weren't sure why you of all people were asked, or why the coworker, what's his name, was so insistint you attend with him. Especially after he ditched you the moment you both arrived.

You stand awkwardly, swirling the drink you had accepted earlier. A few straggling groups chatted nearby, gossiping about things you didn't care enough to pay attention to. You had better things to think about, like how were you getting home and when you could leave.

Even more important; how was the baby? Was she alright? The sitter you hired wasn't your usual one, but she had vanished without a trace and it was such short notice-

Something, someone, collided with yourself.

"I'm so sorry-" That's what you get for standing near the stairs!

You look up quickly, meeting the gaze of one of the boys you had met the other day. His lips twitch downwards, his eyes focused on the spot where your drink had collided with your clothing. Before you can react, he sets his suit jacket over your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry", he states quickly, opening his mouth to add something else before being cut off by you.

"It's alright, Jason."

His looks shocked for a moment, before his lips turn up into a grin.

"You remembered my name!" He speaks in a town that seems uncharacteristic for him. Pure delight coats his face and he opens his mouth again just to be cut off.

"Jay-Jay! Look what you did!" Another familiar face approaches, a grin adorning the young man's features. He slaps Jason on the back, then turns to you.

"Sorry about my brother." Your brows furrow at this.

"Brothers..?"

"Not by choice", Jason adds quickly, "Atleast, not our choice."

The urge to ask is immediately wiped away as another familiar face approaches, tailed by someone you hadn't met and who's attention was trained on their phone.

The shorter of the two, the one who you had encountered before, spoke up in a clear tone that didn't quite suit his age.

"Father says to quit harassing the guests, Richard, and he'd like to speak with you, Jason."

Jason rolled his eyes. The boy on his phone timidly glanced up, flashing a quick smile.

"Hello", he spoke, then looked back toward his phone.

The shortest of them stared at you, his expression indifferent.

"My name is Damian Wayne. I'd like to thank you for the other day." You smile softly at him, then the realization dons on you.

'Damian Wayne, as in Bruce Wayne's son...?' Your thoughts are yet again interrupted by a voice.

"Boys!"

His voice is clearer in real life, but unmistakably him. You turn, watching one Bruce Wayne approach your small group. His smile seems to light up the room.

He's more handsome in real life, slight crow's feets crinkling near his eyes when he laughs and a shock of gray through his hair.

His arm is looped with a young blonde woman, a baby only a bit older than your own settled in the crook of her other arm. They both smile, stopping in front of you and the boys. Jason's hand suddenly disappears from your shoulder and everyone seems to take a step back.

You smile politely, extending your hand to him.

He takes it, unlooping his arm with the gorgeous woman and bending to press a kiss to it. He feels a pang of anger when he feels the callouses and scars on your hands. Standing straight once again, he grins.

"It's a pleasure, Mx...", your eyes widen when he speaks your last name. How did...?

His eyes trail over your form, then scan the faces of the boys surrounding you. He shakes his head.

"I apologize for their lack of manners. Please, boys, introduce yourselves."

The blonde woman steps forward, smiling at you.

"I'm Stephanie", she adjusts the infant in her arms, taking your hand and giving it a tender squeeze.

You notice Jason taking up a spot directly behind you, standing over you, or atleast attempting to.

"We've been introduced", he speaks gruffly, more to his father than to you. This atmosphere suddenly becomes thick with tension, it makes you shift in unease.

Dick puts himself between Stephanie and Bruce, smiling sheepishly.

"It's Richard Grayson, everyone calls me Dick."

The boy that was previously on his phone snickers, Bruce shoots him a pointed look.

"It's Tim", the boy mutters, immediately piping back down.

Damian takes up the other other side of Bruce and you note thier similar features.

"Well, it's been wonderful meeting you all, but I should be leaving", You smile awkwardly, pulling Jason's jacket tighter around your shoulders.

"Let me treat you to dinner", Bruce speaks almost desperately, then clears his throat, "to make up for my sons' rudeness."

Suddenly you're sat in a limo, stuck between Jason and Bruce.

[necroromantics]

🪓 — Canon Facts About Ticci Toby

all of these are directly stated by kastoway himself in deviantart posts/comments, instagram stories, or tobys canon story

I. Toby has a split eyebrow from the car crash

II. He only attended grade school for a short time when we was 12 before being homeschooled due to bullying

III. Kastoway describes Toby's eye colour as "dark brown/black"

IV. Kastoway created Toby as a fan character when he was 12 just for fun. He never expected him to get the attention that he did

V. Toby was stated to be 19 in 2013, which means Toby was born on April 28th, 1994. Today he'll be turning 30 years old

VI. In Toby's age chart, he is shown to be in a straitjacket at 30 years old, and described to "not have much time left on his plate", "any bit of sanity in him is probably gone", and "lives out the rest of his days in a mental asylum and/or gets put down"

VII. He has little to no memory of his life before becoming a proxy

VIII. When he was a toddler, he'd carry around a cow stuffie and put bandaids all over it

IX. Toby was killed by Clockwork, who was possessed by Zalgo, sometime between ages 19-25 (presumably 20-22). Kastoway had vague plans for Toby to "miraculously survive" and live up until around 30 years old, with no contact to the others

X. Toby chews his hands to the point of eating his own flesh, which is why he wears gloves

XI. He is born and raised in Denver, Colorado, USA. He has German ancestry

XII. His theme song is noted to be "I'm Not Alright" by Shinedown

XIII. His personality is described to be, "volatile, friendly at times, sarcastic at times, natural born trouble-maker, mostly up-beat"

XIV. In an older, outdated reference sheet, his friends are listed as "Jeff The Killer, BEN, BOB, Smile Dog, Slenderman, Splendorman, Mr. Widemouth, Ragface, Eyeless Jack", and his rivals are listed as "The Rake, Masky, Enderman, Zalgo"

XV. His mask is a mouth guard, like the one Hannibal Lecter wears

XVI. He is canonically shipped with Clockwork

XVII. Toby has "big ass eyebrows" (Kastoways words himself)

XVIII. Toby doesn't hate Masky, he just acts like an annoying little brother around him because he's jealous that Slender favours him. He's chill around Hoodie, but they don't talk much

XIX. Kastoway was inspired by Marble Hornets to create Ticci Toby

XX. Toby's tics are described as to "uncontrollably crack his neck, twitch around, bend over backwards"

XXI. In his updated appearance (the sketch made by Kastoway in 2014 with the cheek gash), he's described to be in his early 20s. He also said he was thinking of having the cheek gash be caused by the fire, but said that Toby eating through his own cheek was "a really good idea"

XXII. Toby was originally going to be a cannibal before Kastoway put the idea on the back burner, though he says "he'll eat some of the things he kills kind of like Eyeless Jack"

XXIII. He had CIPA, Tourettes, Schizophrenia and PTSD after the car crash

XXIV. His older sisters name is Lyra, his mothers name is Connie, and his father is canonically unnamed (though he's typically called Frank by the fandom, this is not stated by Kastoway)

XXV. He was originally going to be 5'4....... But ended up being made 5'6 (lucky bastard)

Thats all I can think of right now... Happy Birthday Toby

[konigsblog]

as my favorite könig smut writer you’re the only one i trust to do dbf!neighbor!könig x early 20s!reader with the dirtiest, sloppiest, most toe curling age gap smut 💗💗

dbf!neighbour!könig?! sign me the fuck up, i could write a whole series for that filthy man!

synopsis; your father's best friend, könig, has been struggling to get himself into a stable, loyal relationship lately. luckily for him, you offer him some sort of release.

tw/cw; age gap/difference, early 20s! reader x late forties!könig, weed use, blowjob, mutual masturbation, PinV, tell me if i missed anything. MDNI 18+ 🍃

photo credits; @ave661

You've had the hots for your father's best friend for quite a while.

He doesn't live very far from you at all. In fact, he lives next door and visits your father pretty often to smoke together and talk about whatever is bothering him, which usually includes topics like König's failed relationships and inability to hold a woman for longer than a week.

Aside from wanting to rant about his horrible, fucked-up love life and to smoke weed with your old man, he wants to see you as well—maybe even more than speak with your father.

When your father is busy doing something else, like washing the dishes or cleaning his car outside, König will excuse himself to the bathroom and will sneak into your bedroom to admire the place. You have plans to move out soon, but currently, you stay with your father inside of your childhood home. König's hand "mysteriously" sneaks into your clothing hamper and begins looking for a pair of panties.

It's alright, you won't notice surely...

And you can't deny your attraction to him. The sound of his familiar, accented voice leaves your knees weak and your panties damp and soaked with the thoughts running through your dirty mind at the moment. You smile at König and talk to him about your plans for college, watching as his eyes flicker from your chest to your eyes, your nipples turning into little stiff buds at the cold breeze in the living room.

Today was like any other saturday; your father was away down the road for some beers with his other friends in the afternoon while König had just arrived home from another fucked-up date, ending like the rest of his dates have. He looks dishevelled and in dire need of some sort of release. He's visibly and clearly pent up and exhausted, rolling himself a joint to relax, leaning against his porch and closing his eyes tightly. He's deep in thought and doesn't realise that you've sneaked up on him, practically jumping out of his skin at your sudden presence.

“Shit, Mäusi— I didn’t see you there... What’s wrong, dear?” He smiles forcefully. He doesn't want to bother you with his shitty life since you're probably all worked up from college and stressed out, but you insist that he tells you what's bothering him. It doesn't take a lot of convincing since it's hard to deny you, especially when you say that you can help him if he explains.

He invites you inside and offers you a joint, in which you gratefully accept and seat yourself beside him, ready to act as a therapist for him.

“Another fucked date with another woman who seems interested in me, but actually isn’t. It seems like I can’t please any women.” He admits through gritted teeth. At the sight of his frustration, you place your hand on his thigh teasingly. “Do you think there is anything I can do to help?” You ask quietly with a mischievous and playful smile plastered on your face. Your voice is seductive and sultry, eyes half-lidded and lustful. God, You really are a tease, huh?

“And what are you hinting at, Liebling?”

König always thought he'd be the one to initiate, but right now, he was struggling to keep his composure and quickly found himself falling for your acts of seduction. You lowered yourself onto your knees and began to unzip his jeans, cocking your head to the side at the sight of his aching cock springing out in your face. You giggled while König pulled his large hands into fists, throwing his head back at the wet sensation of your lips wrapped around his swollen, weeping cock. He'd been dreaming of this moment for months, Liebe.

The things you do to König fucked-up head, Good Lord. He couldn't help the sounds of pleasure running through his lips, his dick painful at your tight grip and pleasure.

His sounds came out pained and guttural, pleased but so on edge and anxious of what your father would think about him after being so touchy-feely with his best friend's daughter. He curses himself out for agreeing to this, feeling like such a pervert despite yearning for more of your addictive, sweet touch. “Feel good?” You question him, knowing he'll get frustrated and will force your head down onto his leaking boner. He huffs and puffs, gripping your hair in a tight fist and pushes your head down with a loud moan leaving his mouth, choking on his groans and grunts.

You coat König's lengthy shaft in your spit to get him slick enough, before seating yourself onto his big lap, your hand stroking and fisting his dick. He slides his fingers into your hole with his eyes wide at the sensation and texture of your gummy walls. He chokes on his pleased sounds as you tease his tip by rolling your soft thumb over his uncut, creamy tip and feel as your folds are stuffed with his thick digits. He pumps them into your soaking cunt and admires the sticky mess left between your fingers, curling his fingers deep inside your gummy cunt.

“C’mere, Taube—Kiss me, please.” He grumbles out, getting obsessive with the pleasure you offer him. He places his lips against yours, making out with you messily and sloppy, the effects of the marijuana leaving him relaxed and at ease with all his concerns and worries forgotten about. His tongue rolls over your bottom lip while you squeeze his dick, whimpering into the sweet kiss. König's fingers begin to pump into you even faster, pulling away to beg you to sit on his cock. You're on edge and shaking pathetically, nearing your orgasm but not quite fully there.

“Sit on it, dear. Don’t be so shy, not now you can’t.” The smell of nicotine sticks to his skin, your thighs shaking as you begin to ease down onto his weeping, veiny dick. König doesn't hold back the sounds of his arousal and euphoria as it burns through his large body, bucking his broad and sturdy hips into your body while cursing you out for being such a dirty tease. You leave König totally obsessed after finally receiving some action after so long.

You bounce on his lap while he fucks his bulbous cock deep into your drooling slit. You gasp and roll your eyes to the back of your head at the ache andd pleasure between your thighs, unable to stop letting out the most perverted and pleased noises. You can feel as König hits your cervix with each thrust and his heavy balls slap against your rear as he drives his hips against your tight rear. Your eyes fill with tears at the pain and stretch, his girthy dick leaving you breathless as you admire the state he leaves your pussy in; raw and sensitive.

König can't hold himself back when you begin to lose control. Sweet, pearly droplets of your sweet arousal run down his boner and coat his length, allowing him to fuck you even harder and deeper with ease as he uses your sweet juices as lube.

“That’s it, little one—God, look how well you’re taking’ me, princess. You’re a mess, such an addictive mess, huh? You’re gonna be an obsession of mine, that’s for sure.” König grits his teeth as he bucks his hips into you even harder, his eyes shut tightly as your walls clamp down around him one last time, filled with ropes of his white creaminess. You pant and heave at the stomach bulge caused by his loads and ropes of his hot release. You grip his jaw to make out with him, your body sweaty and hot with König's cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

You have to sneak back home before your father comes back and asks what you were doing over at his best friend's house. König would be slaughtered if he found out the truth.

You just have to act all innocent, as if König's milky and potent load is oozing out of your hole and dampening your panties at the dinner table.

[lowkeyremi]

"DADDY I THREW UP"

How they react when their little ones throw up ! (we all know gojo is gonna be overreacting) ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: TW: vomit, no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families. (divider by kim jiho) same kids from jjk men as dads

Gojo Satoru

Satoru's on daddy duty for the next week and a half while you're gone, and so far he's actually doing quite well. Currently, he's making dinner from a simple recipe in the recipe book you've been making throughout the last few years.

Two year old Kenji waddles into the kitchen and tugs on Satoru's sweatpants. His head whips around to look down at his little mini-me.

"Hey Kenji, what's up little guy?" He puts his attention back on the wok with noodles in it to make sure he doesn't burn dinner. As he's stirring the food around with chopsticks Kenji starts to form a sentence, "Um.. throw up."

Satoru freezes. "W-what?" He knows exactly what Kenji said but he's scared to turn around. Kenji whines a little bit, "Throw up. Kenji throw up." Usually Satoru would find his toddler's 3rd person speaking cute but right now he feels himself breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Oh... um.. It's okay? Where is it?" Kenji's little feet waddle away from the kitchen expecting his daddy to follow after him. Satoru turns the heat down to low so the food won't burn, and follows his little boy to the 'crime scene'.

Kenji sticks his thumb in his little mouth and points to the throw up on the carpet.

"O-oh god, I think I'm gonna-" He gags and runs into the bathroom. Nothing comes from his mouth so he shudders. He needs to calm down, it's just a little throw up from his own kin, he'll be alright. The faucet runs and he splashes some water on his face.

"I can do this. I can do this. I can-" He hears the telltale sign of someone throwing up. Kenji is definitely sick. The throw up is followed by loud crying. Satoru's dad instincts kick in and he runs back over to where his little boy is.

"Hey, hey, hey, little guy. It's gonna be okay. Let's get you a bath, then I'll call mommy, okay?" Kenji nods. It breaks Satoru's heart hearing those little sniffles that leave his baby boy.

Geto Suguru

"PAPAAAAA!!!! Hana threw up!!!" Suguru looks at you and you stare right back.

"Don't look at me, I cleaned Hana's vomit yesterday while you were working late." He fights the urge to roll his eyes at you, because you're being childish in his mind.

Suguru makes his way to the kitchen so he can get the carpet cleaning spray out of the cabinet. "Fucking hell." He mumbles without realizing his six year old daughter was near by.

She gasps dramatically before yelling, "OOOOOO PAPA SAID A BAD WORD!!!" He screws his eyes shut, agitation was slowly seeping in.

"I'll put a dollar in the jar, but please stop screaming, Kana. Your sister doesn't feel good and the screaming is hurting Papa's head." He has retrieved the spray and a damp rag to clean up the soiled spot on the carpet.

"Sorry Papa." Kana's voice is lowered drastically. Being a curious little thing she follows her father to go check up on her little twin sister.

"You alright, princess?" Suguru sits close to her little pink bed and poor little Hana shakes her head 'no'.

"I don't feel good, Papa." She whines quietly. Suguru can tell by the way her eyes water, the sweat beads grow on her forehead and the way she frowns deeply that she definitely is sick.

"Why don't you go brush your teeth for me, princess? Then Papa will get you some medicine." Suguru understands his daughter very well. He'd always get sick while eating curses, sometimes they were so bad he would vomit all over the place. LOLLL no curse au so he aint gotta suffer.

She nods hopping from her bed to go brush her teeth in the bathroom. Suguru gets to work cleaning up the carpet.

Kamo Choso

Ryuji's school had called you because your boy threw up in school, which he was very embarrassed about because elementary schoolers always know how to make a big deal out of something small. Many children were crowding your son where he threw up some gasped in horror others laughed. Luckily the teachers were able to get the students under control once more.

They sent him to the nurse and she dialed you, "I'm so sorry, baby. Mom's out of town, give the phone back to the nurse so I can give her dad's number, okay?" He utters a quiet response before handing the phone over.

You chat with the nurse for a little bit giving her the information she needed then you told your son goodbye and hung up.

The nurse is quick to dial Choso and he picks up after the fourth ring. "Good morning, Sir. I'm calling because your son Ryuji Kamo threw up and he isn't feeling too good. We called Mom but she said she won't be able to come pick him up. Do you think you could check him out or do you have another trusted family member who could pick him up?" She's got a pen and notepad ready to write down another number if Choso couldn't make it.

"Oh dear, yeah I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Is his stuff packed already or..." He trails phone pressed to his ear, he hadn't been doing anything too important since he'd already finished up his meeting.

"No Sir, we'll send him right up to pack up. He'll be waiting for you in the main office."

"Alright, thank you." Choso's starting to worry, does he need to take Ryuji to the doctor? Should he stop at the grocery store and get soup? Should he make soup? Do you have kids cold/flu medicine at home? Your husband can't remember the last time Ryuji had vomited and he's pretty sure you'd taken care of it anyway.

"Hey Siri, how do I take care of my sick son?" She responds with 'here's what I found' he quickly scans over an article and the main idea is comfort him, make him something light, make sure he's hydrated, and gets plenty of rest. He could do that. Choso's not the best at emotions but he'll do what he can for his boy.

Eventually the two make it home, and Choso is quick to act. "Change into your pjs and I'll get you some medicine. How do you feel?" He needs a basic idea of what he's dealing with.

"My stomach reallyyyyyyy hurts." He whines holding his abdomen area tightly.

"Like you need to go to the bathroom kind of hurt?" Choso thinks it might be a stomach bug because his so shakes his head 'no'.

"Nuh uh, feels like someone is stabbing me in the stomach." His brows knit and a frown covers his face. it hurts to see his son suffering.

"Alright, I've got you kiddo. I'll take care of you." He promises to his growing boy.

"Thanks dad."

Fushiguro Toji

"Dad come look! I threw up! It's so cool!" Four year old Yui says, which is odd, no normal little kid is happy after throwing up so Toji is suspicious.

"Tell your brother to clean it up." Yui crosses her little arms and pouts.

"I already told Megumi and Nami!! They told me to go tell you!!!" He doesn't want to clean it up. He already has his work cutting out for him changing his newborn's diapers, cleaning up vomit was not on his list of to dos.

He would have told her to go ask you to clean it up but it's sunday and you usually go out for brunch with your friends. So, unless he somehow coaxed his stubborn son, Megumi, he'd have to do it himself.

When he finally reaches the bathroom, he groans in annoyance at how she just barely missed the toilet had she run a little faster she would have made it. To make matters worse it looks like she tried to clean it up herself and just spread it all everywhere.

"Oh, Sprinkles threw up too! Cuz he ate some of mine."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" A deep unsettling groan rips from his throat. Yui finds the whole ordeal funny, she's giggling and cooing at her father.

Bonus: A few days later you're walking past Yui's room and you hear her yell, "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

You instantly stop, "Excuse you little girl, who did you hear say that?"

"Dad said it when he had to clean up my throw up!!" She smiles brightly at you. She's so innocent she doesn't fully understand the weight of what she's said.

"That's a bad word sweet girl. Don't say that anymore, got it?"

You're given a little nod to indicate she understands.

"TOJI WHERE ARE YOU?!" He's about to get an earful from you.

Nanami Kento:

"Hey guys, I came as soon as I could." You exhale deeply as you set your keys on the rack and slip off your shoes. Kento had picked up your son because the school called saying he'd thrown up.

Kento appears from the hallway with a finger on his lip telling you to "shh".

You lower your voice to a whisper, "Is Hiro alright?" Kento walks up to you and gives you a comforting hug which you really needed.

"Yeah he's resting right now. He threw up in the car. Twice. I was going to go clean it up right now. Emmie should be waking up from her nap soon, though." You're so grateful to have a husband you can rely on in a time of need.

When Hiro's school had called you, you were in the middle of a very important meeting so you couldn't leave. Nanami had left work early to go pick up your son.

His smile is so intoxicating. You pull him by his collar and make his lips meet yours. He immediately reciprocates by bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks and kiss you back.

"Thank you, baby." His eyes are so beautiful and if you didn't have to go make sure to be there for your baby girl you would have continued to stare at them.

"Of course my love. Parenting is a two person thing for a reason."

"I bet by next week we'll be sick too." You say chuckling dryly.

"Most likely, yeah." He says shaking his head. He begrudgingly walks out to his car to clean up the vomit in the backseat.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

--------------

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Eight

— Little Big Allergy

Series Masterlist

wc: 3.6k

Note: I am not a medical professional, so please let me know if something is incorrect

"Don't you dare think about cancelling, you are going on that date," your best friend's voice rang out of your phone on speaker while you were choosing a dress for tonight.

You turned to look at the phone, as if your best friend was standing there, "I'm not going to cancel, I just don't know what to wear," you responded, placing another dress against your body but frowning.

"Wear that one sexy red dress you have, who knows, you might just get laid tonight."

You shuffled through your closet, finding the red dress in the back, which was expected since you didn't wear it in a long time. You held it out in front of you, "don't you think it's too revealing for the first date? Maybe I could wear this next time."

It was a backless, short garment with two straps. While the back was revealing, so was the front, which featured two cutouts around the hips and exposed a bit of cleavage due to the lack of material.

Your friend hummed, "so we're planning a second date as well huh?" You could basically hear her smirk on the other end. "Well I hope this date goes well," you reasoned, but the jittery feeling didn't go away.

"You and Max are already good friends who happen to flirt occasionally, what could go wrong?" Then after a short pause, she added, "actually no, don't answer that. Try your blue dress, I bet he'd like to see you in blue."

After almost every interaction you've had with Max, starting from the grocery store, you've told your friend everything. Which is why when she suggested wearing blue, you weren't opposed to it.

Putting your red dress back in the closet for another time, which was hopefully soon, you held a navy blue dress in your hand, examining it before holding it up against your body.

While this one, like the red dress, had two straps holding it together, it was longer, reaching a few inches past your knees and including a little slit down the side for convenience.

"Alright, this is the one," you stated and continued conversing with your friend while you changed and began doing your makeup.

"So Bella is at Tyler's?" She asked, making you nod before realizing that she couldn't see you. "Yeah, she'll be there for the weekend."

"Oh how fun!" You could hear the sarcasm in her voice and chuckled, "it's fine, she should be spending time with her dad."

"The same one who called her overdramatic? Did you seriously have to have a kid with a guy like him?" This was a conversation you've had with her many times, and you would always reply with the same answer, "we were young and immature, but Isabella is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"She truly is, which makes me glad that she turned out like you more than him." You chuckled, "oh trust me, I am glad about that too. It would've been a nightmare if I had to see a little version of him all the time."

"So, speaking of Isabella, how are you going to tell her that you are dating someone who happens to be her favourite person in her favourite sport?"

You groaned, "I don't know, I really don't know. I can't stop thinking about it, because of what Tyler told me," you explained. "Are you still believing his words? Actually scratch that, why are you letting your ex determine your future relationship?"

"God, why do you have to ask such questions," you muttered, taking a moment to think about your response.

"I don't want to believe him, I have a feeling something else happened that day which he didn't tell me about. Plus he's not only my ex, he's the father of my child. I don't think of him as anything more than that."

"Honestly that asshole shouldn't even be considered the father of such a beautiful little girl," your friend stated, and you couldn't help but agree with her.

"Anyways, let's not talk about him, I don't want to ruin my mood before the night even starts," you comment, with your friend humming in agreement.

"You're right, let's talk about Max!" She exclaimed, making you chuckle. That's whom you ended up talking about for the remainder of the time you were getting ready.

Even though she knew all the details right from day one, she wanted another whole story time of how you and Max met, leading up to when he asked you out. Instead of opposing to repeat the story, which you don't even know how many times you've told her by now, you happily told her all the details as if it was the first time.

A few minutes after you ended the phone call with your best friend, your phone rang again which you initially thought was a call from Max. However, it was a call from an unknown number.

You answered the call, and you were met with a woman's panicking voice on the other end, "is this Isabella's mother?"

"Yes, who is this?" You asked first, calming down the inner voices that instantly thought about the worse possible scenario involving your daughter.

"I'm Emma, I don't know if you know me but I am actually at the hospital, with Isabella." You tightened your grasp on the phone, as it was close to slipping away from your hands at Emma's words.

"What happened and which hospital are you at?" You instantly began moving around your house, finding your car keys as you waited for a response.

Emma told you the address as you were leaving through the front door. "She had a severe allergic reaction, and I thought it would be best to bring her to the hospital. I am sorry for disturbing you, I wasn't able to get in touch with Tyler."

You took a deep breath in, knowing that it was bound to happen someday, even though you would rather not have it happen at all. "I'm on my way, should be there in ten minutes. Thank you for letting me know."

It would've been pointless to argue with her, especially since she was the one who informed you of the situation at hand and had the decency to take your daughter to the hospital.

You rushed into the hospital within eight minutes, a record time for you, and you might've broken a few speeding laws but it was for a good reason. It didn't take too long finding Isabella, considering she was in the ER, with a frantic woman standing nearby, whom you assumed was Emma.

As soon as she spotted you, her first words to you was another apology, "I am so, so sorry, I had no idea she had a peanut allergy." That led you towards one question, well more than one but you started off with just one, "what happened?"

She sighed, before telling you how she spent the entire day with Isabella. "One of my friends came by and dropped off some baked goods, I swear I had no idea that it had peanuts in it."

You reasoned that if you calmed her down, it would calm you down as well, because the increasing dread in your thoughts would not benefit you in any situation. You put your hands on her shoulders, "I'm not blaming you for it, you didn't know."

You looked at the doors leading to the ER, "how bad was it?" Emma hesitated before muttering words that made your heart ache, "really bad, she started swelling up everywhere and then passed out."

You tried to sit down, but the need to know her well-being caused you to walk back and forth in the hallway.  Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you were about to ignore it until you recalled something really important.

"Shit!" Max was calling. Of course he was, after all he was expecting you to be home and ready for a date tonight.

"Hey, I'm standing at your front door, are you home or?" He started and awkwardly chuckled, causing you to shut your eyes, imagining how the night was expected to go. He was probably holding a bouquet of flowers, looking like an idiot standing by the door because you weren't home.

"Max, I'm so sorry, I'm actually at the hospital." There was no reason to lie, but even after telling the truth, you didn't feel any less guilty.

"What happened? Are you okay? Is Isabella okay?" His response was quick, and slightly surprising but you've known Max long enough that his kindness wasn't as shocking anymore.

"It's Isabella, allergic reaction," you briefly described, and heard some shuffling around on the other end before he asked for the address. "You don't have to come," you told him as you normally did, but he didn't agree again, saying "I want to."

You didn't argue with him, as your heart warmed at the fact that Max wanted to see Isabella himself, and stay right by your side until she was completely fine.

Quickly telling him the address as you noticed a doctor walking towards you and Emma, you hung up the call. "Which one of you is the patient's guardian?"

You stepped forward, "I'm her mother, how is she?"

"It was an anaphylactic allergic reaction, however everything is under control. We've administered epinephrine but we will be moving her to the ICU for a few hours just for observation purposes in case the symptoms are back."

You let out a sigh in relief, as did Emma. "Thank you," you nodded towards the doctor. Once they left, you sat down, the anxiousness leaving your body.

Looking at Emma, who was standing against the wall in front of you, you had another question brewing in your mind. "Where was Tyler when all this happened?" You asked, remembering that she called you only because she couldn't reach him.

"He said he had an emergency meeting come up," Emma spoke her words carefully, earning raised eyebrows from you. "He left you alone with my daughter?" You had to confirm the words you were hearing and scoffed once she nodded.

"It's not your responsibility to take of my child, it's his. You're not her guardian nor babysitter, you shouldn't have to do that." Emma shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, "it's not the first time."

"How dare he?" You muttered under your breath before standing up and stepping closer to her. "We both have epipens for situations like this, and I am assuming that since you didn't know about her allergy, Tyler didn't tell you about the epipen either?”

Emma shook her head, "no, he didn't."

His lack of attention, led Isabella right to this moment. If he had told Emma about your daughter's allergy, or even what to do when she has allergic reaction, neither of you would be this worried about her health.

Emma, having realizing the depth of the situation, sighed, "I haven't been able to get a hold of him and if it weren't for Isabella constantly talking about you and telling me your phone number to the point where I had it memorized, I wouldn't have known what to do in this situation."

You pitied the woman standing in front of you, especially as you also knew that it was not her fault. You cracked a smile, "she talks about me huh?"

"Oh yeah, she considers you the best mother in the world, and based on her stories, I agree with her."

Then, you heard Max calling your name, walking towards you in a rush. He instantly wrapped an arm around your waist as if it was an instinct, "is she okay?"

Emma stepped away, picking up her phone for another useless attempt of calling her boyfriend.

You wrapped both arms around Max, bringing him in a hug, "yeah, she's okay."

Once he pulled back, he cradled your face with his palms, "are you okay?" You smiled, and your eyes filled with unshed tears because of his question. "Much better now."

Then, Max noticed your outfit which happened to be the dress you were supposed to wear on your date. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze unwavering, taking you in.

He was also dressed up, wearing a suit with a bow tie, and you couldn't help but reach up to touch it, "cute," you commented, making him raise his brows.

"Cute?" He repeated with a questioning tone. You nodded, biting your bottom lip to prevent a smile. "Cute and handsome."

"You are beautiful," he replied, watching as you avert your eyes because his gaze was intense.

"Oh, Max, this is Emma," you decided to introduce them, and added, "she's the one who brought Isabella here."

Max raised an eyebrow in question, "I thought Isabella was with Tyler?" He asked, directed at you more than Emma.

"Well, he wasn't home when this happened, only Emma and Isabella," you stated, and Max gauged your emotions for a moment, quickly recognizing the underlying rage you had directed at your ex. Max knew you'd be discussing this later, in the safety of your own house, so he didn't ask you to elaborate. 

A nurse came by, "Isabella is now conscious, and asking for her parents," they stated, along with the room number.

Emma looked at you and Max with a fond smile, before turning towards you, "I think I should get going now that you're here."

A genuine smile graced your lips, "thank you, Emma, for bringing her here and for staying with her even without him."

"Of course, she's the cutest little girl and I'm glad to get to know her." Both of you stood still for a moment, debating on whether or not you should hug her. Then, without thinking twice you initiated a hug that was easily welcomed by her.

You waited till she left your sights before looking at Max, "let's go?" You held out your hand but he shrugged, "she's asking for her parents, you should go."

You stepped forward and grabbed his hand, "you're coming with me," you decided for him. Although Max didn't pull away, he asked, "what if she doesn't want to see me?"

"Trust me, she'll be happy to see you," you convinced him and walked towards the room she was admitted in while holding each other's hand.

When you entered, Isabella's smile widened once she spotted you and Max. "Mama, Maxy!" She cheered, though quieter than usual.

A nurse stood by her side, monitoring her health and checking the IV drip inserted into your daughter's arm.

"Oh my angel, how are you?" You dropped Max's hand and walked closer to her, lightly kissing her forehead. Instead of a verbal response, she formed a thumbs up with her hand.

Then she looked at the door again, "is daddy coming too?" Isabella asked, sounding hopeful. You shook your head, "no sweetheart, daddy is not coming."

Instead of the usual deflated mood, she shrugged, "it's okay, Maxy's here." She held her arms around asking for a hug, only flinching for a moment since she forgot about the drip connected to her arm.

Max quickly stepped forward, bending over to hug her. "All good, Bella?" He asked, once he felt her arms wrap around him tighter. She nodded for a moment then shook her head against him, "it hurts," she whispered.

He brought his hand up to ruffle her hair before pulling away, "you are a very brave girl."

"Really?" She asked, and scooted over a little so Max could sit beside her. He nodded, "of course! Very brave."

She beamed, snuggling closer to him before looking at you. "Mama, come here," she patted the other side, and surprisingly the three of you were able to fit on the very small hospital bed.

A nurse was constantly in the room, checking in on Isabella's health from time to time and since there weren't any repeated symptoms of an allergic reaction, the three of you were out of the hospital in a few hours.

Max followed you in his car, and carried your sleeping daughter inside the house. Instead of taking her straight to her bedroom, he laid her down on the couch in case she wakes up and needs her mother.

It was safe to say that you were not going too far away from her any time soon.

You were in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water when he returned. He stood behind you, with his hands trailing down your sides before resting on your waist, and his chin on your shoulder. "Did I tell you how stunning you look?"

You hummed, "maybe a few times but I don't mind hearing it again."

He turned you around in his grasp, "well, you look breathtakingly beautiful."

You blushed, "you and your compliments," you chuckled. "What's wrong with it?" He asked, but you shook your head, "nothing, it's just I'll never get bored of hearing it."

He smiled, "good, because you'll be hearing at least one every day."

You tilted your head to the side, "every day? Are you sure you won't run out?" He shook his head, "not unless you keep finding ways to make me speechless."

Both of you remained in that position for a moment but then you frowned, "I'm sorry,"

"For what?" He tilted your chin up as soon as you averted your gaze away from him. "We weren't able to go on the date."

Max let out a sound in protest, "I'm pretty sure your daughter's health matters so much more than our date night. Plus the night isn't over," he added with a smile, confusing you even further.

"What does that mean?" He parted away from you and it quickly made you miss the warmth that his body provided you. "Why don't you go change into something comfortable," he suggested, almost pushing you out of the kitchen.

You weren't opposed to the idea, so you went upstairs to change after checking on your daughter. You found the most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a shirt, and removed your makeup as well.

Walking back downstairs, you saw Max waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you. He had removed his blazer and bow tie, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as well.

He held out his hand, waiting for your hand to hold his, and although you were confused, you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to hold his hand.

"It's not much, definitely not up to first date standards but we'll manage," he commented as he led you to the kitchen table where he had prepared two packets of instant noodles.

"I haven't been on a date in forever so anything you do will set my standards." You smiled when you noticed the lit candle.

"Well, then I will raise your standards next time by taking you out on a proper date." He held the chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before rounding the table and sitting down himself.

It took two minutes before Max moved his own chair right next to yours because he didn't want to sit on the opposite side. You chuckled at his antics but it was much appreciated.

"What's on your mind?" he asked once he saw you visibly thinking. You shrugged, "I don't think we should be discussing these thoughts on a first date."

"This is far from what a first date should be like, so there are no rules. I know you want to talk about what happened at the hospital," he prompted and he was spot on, so you agreed.

"I can't believe he actually left Isabella under Emma's supervision. Not that there is anything wrong with her, but it's not her responsibility!" Max nodded in agreement, "where was he?"

"In a fucking meeting," you exasperated, eating another forkful of the noodles. "It must've been very stressful for Emma," you sighed, finishing your short rant because you truly had no words for your ex's irresponsible behaviour.

Still, Max listened to every word. Once you were finished eating, he turned your chair towards him. "We can agree on the fact that he is an incompetent father."

"Yeah, I don't even know what would've happened if Emma wasn't there either. He surely wouldn't have left Bella alone right?"

Max shrugged, "hey, stop worrying about what could've happened. Bella's safe, she's okay." He placed a palm on your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

You nodded, "you're right." Making eye contact with him, you were quickly lost in his gaze. While it almost made you want to look away, you couldn't.

"You know," you started, wanting to divert away from the current topic. He hummed, urging you to go on.

"I don't really care for an extravagant date, all I really need is you. I'm happy with this, with us." He smiled, to the point where you could notice the creases forming at the corners.

"I'm happy with us too, but I will be taking you out on an extravagant date because you deserve it, as well as much more."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing that it would be hard to convince Max otherwise, but you could think of a few ways to try when the time comes.

"Thank you for being here with me," you added, needing him to know about your appreciation. Your words also hinted at all the moments he shared with you, and Isabella.

He seemed to understand your hint, "I'm glad to be here with you, both of you."

Taglist: (continuing the taglist in comments) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17 @phantomxoxo

[evilios]

I keep thinking of potential for "good dad Zeus" stories but for Olympians when they're younger/coming into power and they're making me very, very sentimental.

You're young Artemis and you're your father's daughter. You come to him first when you're upset or hurt because, intimidating as he is to many, he always holds you close, laughs fondly, and makes your distress easier to bear. You know that whoever hurt you will not sleep at night and your wounds will heal.

You're young Apollo and you're your mother's child but your father's favorite son. You and him share understanding looks that no one else comprehends. When you wake up from your first prophecy, you are terrified and confused, but you feel a steady, big, warm hand under yours and it's alright. He teaches you the art of fate. You know his mind like no other.

You're young Athena and you're your father's delight. He always finds newer and newer ways to engage your rapidly thinking mind, and he chuckles fondly at your theories. "You would be a mighty king, my child," he tells you and you know it is the highest praise though you don't delight in calls of power. You watch competitions and games standing by his side. You are, still, his greatest pride.

You're young Hermes and you always make your father laugh. He tells you stories of your mother, all scented with strawberry tree fruits and wild flowers, and you wonder how big a man's heart is to store so many loves. He chides you a little for your constant pranks but you can tell that he loves you from the little glint in his eyes. He always sits you close during banquets and listens to your stories even if they're made up.

You're young Dionysus and your father finds you perplexing. He might not understand you as well as his other children, but you watch him from afar and get him, somewhat. The grab for power and the need to keep it, the desire to make others bow to your might: you've felt it since you were much younger. Always a demanding son, always a ruthless little leopard. He'd pick you up and look at you in wonder, "you are so much like me".

You're young Ares and your father does not understand you as well because you're your mother's child. You are not as close to him as others are but that's how you are with most of your family. Deep down, he relates to you - he was much like you when he was young: taking what he's owed. As you grow older, you realize you've become the same great father he is, following in his steps.

[bamfkeeper]

Parents.

Kurt Wagner x F!reader

RQ: 'CAN WE PLS GET MORE DAD!KURT HC'S??? PLS I BEG' - @thel0v3hashira143

Warnings: Baby themes, mentions of breastfeeding and other recovery things from birth and pregnancy.

A/N: Pleaseee I love Kurt as a dad <3 Dad!Kurt has to have a goatee I don't make the rules 😩

Kurt loves being a dad. He's always wanted to be a father and he was so excited when you got pregnant and gave birth. He was so attentive to you, and during labor and the birthing process, he was there helping as much as possible.

When it was the first night home from the hospital, he made sure you got your baby inside safely and you got to bed right away. He didn't want you moving around too much. He had already prepped the bedroom, the bassinet was beside the bed for you to easily reach for your baby at night for feedings.

He had water, cream, medicine, everything you needed. He popped up at night when he felt you move, checking on you nearly every hour.

If you wanted to only breastfeed, he'd absolutely be okay with that, and he'd make sure you were alright doing so. He would help you pump and offer bottles if you needed, but he'd mostly try to respect your wants.

I don't think Kurt would care what gender the baby is. He'd love it no matter what. I always had a feeling that if he had a boy he'd name it Gabriel.

Names in general can be played with. You can imagine him going the religious route, or the German route, or if you have a name you like from your own culture, then you could choose that. Kurt is just happy you're having a baby, the name isn't something he's going to argue about with you.

Kurt is absolutely super protective over the baby and you, especially fresh from the hospital. He advocates your wishes to all your friends and family. No visitors, no pictures, no holding the newborn, etc. whatever rules you have.

You love watching him hold your baby, how he cradles them in his arms and hums so sweetly. He gently rubs his nose into the baby's tiny one, he's so gentle with them.

He kisses your baby's feet, listening to the sweet giggles because his beard tickles their toes. He loves to give them raspberries too.

He likes to sing German lullabies or songs to your baby. His singing voice is actually really good.

You thought Kurt was protective before, but once your baby moves around more often, he becomes even more so. Anyone says anything about your baby's appearance or yours after your pregnancy, he loses it. You didn't think that would get you going but...damn.

Your baby would be bilingual. They'd learn English and German growing up.

Walking is fun. With the tiny tail your baby has, balance is much easier, so your baby is walking long before normal babies walk.

As your baby grows, their little voice develops an accent in both languages, and you both adore it. Kurt is so proud of your little one, going on and on about how smart they are and how they get it from you.

Kurt loves dressing your baby too, he definitely puts them in little overalls or lederhosen.

Kurt plays with your little one all the time, especially at parks, he loves pushing them in the swing and sliding down the slide with them in his lap. He absolutely makes up extravagant make believe scenarios about sailing the seas on a big pirate ship, aka the couch.

Speaking of...pirate costumes for Halloween is a MUST.

Also let's not forget the spoiling your child will endure. Kurt gets them whatever they want. Stuffed animals, toys, clothes, sweets, within reason of course. But he can't resist.

Kurt loves to cook German dishes for you and your child, it makes him happy to do and it connects you and your child closer to his roots.

Bedtime stories are big for Kurt too. The showman he is, he tells the stories in different voices, he completely acts out the parts to make your child giggle and laugh. He tucks your little one in and gives them a kiss, a soft lullaby, then it's off to dreamland.

You adore seeing this side of Kurt, he's grown into a wonderful parent, even if he did have some worries before. He is absolutely perfect. A perfect father and a perfect husband.

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover images: Immortal X-Men #7 (2022), Pinterest for others

[bisayawa]

freckles & blades & helping hands

✎___ husband!diluc × spouse!reader

✎___ a/n: domestic fluff (literally just a soft scene of diluc shaving his scruff), i aged diluc up a bit i think. use of the pet name honey. somewhat inspired by @/mmmairon's art of beefy, gentle, kind diluc :> 730~ words, not proofread; art by ary scheffer.

"do you need any help?"

legs swinging on the counter top, you lean in & stare, eyes glazing over the handsome lines of your husband's face on the mirror. he has a few crow's feet near his temples. whenever you point it out, he'll always say the wrinkles are evidence of you, you who make him smile & laugh & chuckle until his stomach hurts. it's evidence of a life laughter, he'd say.

the sharp stipple of the razor cuts through the silence.

"no, honey," he says, turning his head & angling the blade to the scruff on his jaw. "it's alright."

the words are spoken softly. it was jarring a few years ago, hearing words of buttercream & sweetness come from a man such as diluc, hulking, dignified, broad-shouldered, almost always with a dour expression on his face.

there was a handsomeness to the gloom before. the sharpness of brows, the bite of his frowns, the particular wrinkle when he scrunches his nose... but you have to admit, the allure is multiplied tenfold when he's all honeyed & dewy-eyed, softer than a cloud.

"i could do it for you, you know?"

his eyes never leave the mirror.

"i still don't understand this... fixation you have," he angles his face in an almost-quarter turn. "i'm just shaving, hon. it's no event you have to witness."

"of course, it is." you lean a little closer. "it's like an unveiling. my husband is showing his true face, one without scruff or stubble."

"an unveiling― ?" his shoulders shake & he puts down the razor for a few moments, small bouts of giggles floating through the room.

he rights himself.

"behave. i'm never gonna finished in time." his stern voice is all for show. he's smiling as he says the words.

a beat passes.

"but isn't it though? they'll finally see all your face. happy wrinkles & all."

he's struggling to fix his lip into a line, unable to stop it from curling into a smile. he's repeating your last few words, mouthing them out as he brings down the razor.

the silence after then is sweet, filled with curious looks towards his face filled with foam & other little chuckles.

"so..." your voice cuts through.

"so...?"

"could i do it for you?"

he taps the razor on the marble sink, shucking hair & foam off the blade.

"you don't know how..." another swipe of the razor.

"you could teach me." tap tap.

"i've..." swipe. "already started." tap

"just the basics." swipe. "an impromptu lesson, yeah? against the grain & all that?"

"it's with the grain, honey."

"right, yeah... i knew that... so are you gonna teach me?"

"hm..."

"oh? usually it's a big, disapproving hrrrnn..."

"you've catalogued my grousing?"

"yup yup, because i am a good spouse who tends to the needs of my husband."

he laughs at that, quietly. another wrinkle on his temple.

"alright, alright... here..."

he gives the razor, grasping it in your hand. he's gentle, careful, righting your hold of the blade.

"okay... here's how it should be..." he guides your hand towards his cheek, speaking in soft murmurs. "just like how my father taught me. listen."

he pulls down, a swipe against his face. hair & foam give way for his pale skin.

"there. let the blade do the work, honey. don't push too harshly."

he makes another swipe, his hand still guiding yours.

"here, just like this." swipe swipe swipe. "you wanna try?"

your small palm finds the back of his neck, pulling him close. brows furrow in concentration as the razor anticipates the next swipe.

"careful, honey, okay?" the warmth of his hand leaves. "i trust you."

shaking fingers steel themselves. the blade goes still before landing on the softness of his skin. it coasts across his jaw, cold metal kissing warm flesh. the line is carved against the shaving foam, no longer obscuring his face.

the swipe is finished. the trust was not betrayed. the result of your work is there upon the blade, as patches of coarse hair & crisp shaving foam.

"how was that?" you murmur.

"wonderful." he's staring into your eyes, not at the razor like you expected. "would you like to keep going?"

"yes, please." you poke at his newly shaven jaw. "i've never noticed your little freckle here."

"i have a few." he pinches your nose. "let's keep going. maybe we can find a few more."

[bunnys-kisses]

side switcher

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, wolff!reader, driver!max, unprotected sex, rough sex, degrading language, unprotected sex and its consequences, hot stuff (!!!), missionary sex

bunny says: thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! feel free to suggest your own ideas for future fics!!

you sighed as you walked down the busy monza street the night after the grand prix. you had to calm yourself down, this was just a meeting.

"bärchen." your father had said, his hands on your shoulders, "you talk to verstappen to consider the offer from mercedes. i think he needs to talk to someone who is... closer in age. not some old man like me." he laughed. his voice was tinged with a softness that was only reserved for his daughter.

you looked at him, "i don't know how to negotiate the way you can."

"that is fine, bärchen. we need an unconventional approach to get verstappen to consider. he is too tied up with red bull, a younger face might be just what we need."

you father wasn't pimping you out. god no, he didn't want you to have sex with max verstappen. the idea of a driver like max with a toto's daughter made the head principal sick.

you stood outside the restaurant and adjusted your blouse before you stepped inside. the place was lavish, high ceilings and low lighting. the food smelt delicious even from a distance. it was the kind of place to make a deal like the one your father was attempting to secure.

he was impressed with max verstappen and you were going to help him make sure that max considered his options. the driver was seated near the back and you gave him a little wave.

"ms. wolff." you said as you reached over across the table to shake max's hand, "i'm toto wolff's daughter, he arranged for us to have a little... talk."

"i didn't know that toto was sending his daughter now. i thought he had a team for that kind of stuff."

you smiled, "well, this is just an informal meeting. the real guns will come out when you agree to talk to my father." you sat down across from him.

you tried not being starstruck, you knew that you had to do this for your father. but you couldn't help but feel a little flushed under max's gaze.

"what would mercedes be willing to give me that red bull won't?" max asked as he looked at you, "must be a pretty hefty deal."

you had the wine menu in your hand, "well. more money." you chuckled, "the numbers won't be finalized until your team meets their team. but i think you could do a lot better there. aren't you tired of being under horner's thumb?"

max raised his eyebrows, "what is be the difference between horner and wolff?"

"my father will make sure that you... shine on the track."

max pushed further, "right, right. i've been winning with red bull, why would i change now?"

you replied, "have you? you're slipping between their fingers. you potential is wasted with them. with mercedes you could have it all."

max smirked, "does the head principal's daughter come with the deal too? or does toto keep you under lock and key and out of the paddock?"

"who i am with is not my father's concern." you were trying to deflect, this was about the deal not you basically being used as a tool to entice the driver.

max chuckled, "i'm sure. if you showed up to the paddock with a mclaren boy or worse a red bull one, i'm sure he'd be quite happy."

not if it was you, you thought.

the dinner was alright, the entire time you felt like you were playing a mental chess that you were unable to really enjoy the meal. whatever pieces max put down as he ate and drank wine, you had a comeback.

it wasn't until the check came and he snatched it out of your hands before you could read the full price.

"my treat." he said, "it's impolite for a man to make the woman pay. even if she's trying to manipulate him."

"i'm not trying to manipulate you, i'm showing you options."

he laughed, "right, right. your foot rubbing against my leg and the cute little faces you keep making are only for buisness purposes."

you looked away, not denying him. he found it endearing. he'd give toto wolff credit, using his daughter to seduce him into signing a contract was a bold move. but max was less interested in a mercedes ride, but rather how did the head prinicpal's daughter ride herself.

"do you want to go back to my hotel?" he asked boldly after he paid the hefty bill, "iron out more of the details without so many people possibly hearing us." you weren't going to be doing much talking when you got back to his hotel room.

you smiled and reached across the table for him, you ran a manicured nail down his wrist, "i was just thinking the same thing."

the hotel room was nice, but not as nice as max's hands on you as he unbuttoned your blouse, his lips on your neck. it felt hot being in the room with him.

you got the belt off his pants and pressed yourself further up against him as you stuck your hand down his pants. his lips found yours and you whined into the kiss.

clothes were not an option for the evening, max wanted to see it all. what toto wolff had been hiding this whole time, his precious daughter about to be fucked by a driver for red bull. that would make quite the story.

max undressed you and you in turn undressed him. you got on the large bed and had him pushing you down fully onto it and climbing on top of you. you moaned into the next kiss as you felt max's heavy erection rub against you.

"intimidated?" he asked.

"of you? no." you replied.

he chuckled and got back on his heels between your legs. he grabbed you by the hips quickly and got your bottom half closer to him. his cock threatening to sink into your sweet pussy.

you held onto the bed as he slipped his cock into you. then wrapped your arms around him afterwards when he leaned in for a searing kiss. you wrapped your legs around him and he started to thrust into you. you gasped, "holy shit." close to his ear.

he looked at you once more, those blue eyes clouded with lust as he pulled you in for a hot kiss and moved against you. the heat in the room thickened as the two of you rutted against one another on the bed.

the kisses were sloppy, the sound of fucking was woven in with the sounds of your heavy breathing. max's thrusts took the wind out of you as you held onto him. it felt painfully intimate for a one night stand.

but in the back of your mind, you knew you'd be tumbling in the sheets with max verstappen more than once. his lips trailed down your neck as he held you by the shoulders for leverage, moving you up and down his cock with each heavy thrust.

"you look good." he said.

you chuckled, "you're not too bad yourself. usually drivers i bed are bad at sex."

he smirked, "i guess you do have the full paddock at your disposal." he didn't know if you were saying it to strike jealousy in him. he added, "but i have a feeling that they'll be less than when i'm done with you."

you looked him in the eyes, as you met his pace with the roll of your hips, "don't get a big head there, verstappen. if you do your helmet won't fit anymore."

he pulled you into another hot kiss and continued to move against you. you could feel your heartbeat in your chest as he pushed up against you.

"i bet your father would have a fit if he saw you like this. under me, like a good girl." he remarked when he broke the kiss, "he expected for you to get me drunk and sign some papers. not end up in bed with me, with my cock deep inside of you."

you tangled your fingers in his short hair and lined your mouth up with his. you said to him, "can you shut up about my father?"

"why?" he asked, "want a daddy then."

"calm the ego, verstappen."

he leaned in a little closer, his thrusts were getting sloppier, "can't, not when i'm balls deep in you, wolff." then pressed his lips against yours. he felt a shudder through his body as he felt you tighten around him.

in the kiss you clung onto him and moaned as you came. your thighs tightened around his waist as you felt the rush of euphoria through your body. when you started to come down, you maintained the kiss and kept your grip on him.

when max broke the kiss, you could see the sexual haze in his eyes as he gave you a few more hard thrusts before he shoved every last centimeter inside of you and finished.

it wouldn't dawn on you till the next morning that neither of you used protection.

"good girl." he said between pants.

you looked at him, arm still around his shoulders and your other hand in his hair, "not too bad yourself, max."

he pulled out and kissed you once more. his soaked, softening cock was pressed against your slit. he pulled away from the kiss and held your face for a moment, "will your father be worried if you're back late?"

you looked at him dead in the eyes and said, "i honestly don't care about him right now. i have my eye on the prize and that's to cum again. i need you, max."

"that kind of attitude might make me come to mercedes." he chuckled before he kissed you once more.

-

toto wolff was the type of man to get what he wanted. he was good that way, he knew exactly how to move the pieces. but sometimes the pieces surprised him.

like how his only daughter ended up in bed with max verstappen. and while you claimed that it was a one time thing for the benefit of mercedes! the timelines didn't add up when you told your father over dinner close to four months after that you were four weeks pregnant.

and the father was the current champion.

toto may have spat out his wine during dinner at the news. but little did he know that verstappen was a lot more willing to join mercedes if it meant being closer to his new woman. the head principal of the mercedes team believed that his future grandson would look a lot nicer in a black, silver and white onesie rather than the garish colours of red bull.

maybe the conditions that led to champion signing to a new team were unconventional and most likely to never be repeated. but as he watched you meet max at the paddock and grin as you pressed your forehead against his helmet, toto couldn't be too angry. business is messy and sacrifices had to be made. for toto that meant accepting max as a future son-in-law.

he did however believe he was far too young to be a grandfather. <3

[nkogneatho]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒 (𝑭𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹'𝑺 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑷𝑪𝑳)

—cw: fem!reader, diabetes worth fluff, soft and protective dads, megumi, tsumiki as yours and toji's kids, mention of childhood trauma in geto's, dad jokes, not proofread

—a/n: I hope you shed a tear and laugh out loud. Don't let this flop. I actually wrote all of these from my personal emotions and experiences :)) Reblogs appreciated.

#mlist #art commissions #taglist

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TELL ME WHO WAS YOUR FAVORITE DAD!!! ༊*·˚

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 .ೃ࿐

All these jjk women clowning gojo makes me think his daughter roasts him at every chance she gets. It's not even on purpose. It's just wise words out of a child's mouth.

"Hana-chan~" he calls her in a sugar laced tone. "How do I look in this?" Satoru pointed towards the awful shirt he was wearing. The outfit was all over the place. It was so bad that even your five year old could tell it.

"Papa's good at fighting, not fashion." His jaw immediately dropped and he could hear you trying to control your laugh.

He knelt so he could be a little more "Hana-chan, don't be mean to papa. It's making me cry."

"She's not being mean, baby. Just telling the truth. I'll divorce you if you wear that one more time," you stated, walking towards both of them.

"Oh yeah," he picks the five year old in his embrace, "I'd fight your lawyer. Daddy's the strongest. Right, hana-chan?"

"But you lost the argument to mama las' night." It was amazing how she can sounds so sweet while ripping your husband apart. You finally laughed out loud because you just couldn't control it.

You would expect Toru to put up an argument at times like this but he just giggles, and squeezes you both in a tight hug.

Yeah. He might be the strongest, but he'd always loose to his two girls.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 .ೃ࿐

Your four year old and seven year old were determined to surprise their daddy for father's day. Toji never credits himself. He does so much, but expects nothing back. The thought of "what my kids might gift me for father's day" doesn't even strike his mind. He goes out and sees all the decorations on the stores with big glittered alphabets spelling "happy father's day" that's how he comes to know about it. Yet, the man wouldn't expect anything. He knows you three love him. He just doesn't want anything in return. His love doesn't come at a price for you all to pay. So when he came home to utensils clanking to the ground, he was worried.

"Oné-san, no. That's not how I wanted yout two write," megumi complained.

"Megumi, I am older. I know what to do." They both were trying to dominate each other on what to write on the cake. When they heard Toji's footsteps, the little boy pushed you towards the kitchen entrance.

"Mama, don't let papa come in now." You were laughing as you get kicked out of your own kitchen.

"Hey, sweetheart. I heard some noise. 's everything alright?" Toji gave you a quick peck after the question.

"Oh? Oh that yeah! Everything's fine. I just dropped the pan."

"Are ya hurt?" His eyes look completely concerned.

"Uh hun, I am fi—" before you could complete the sentence, your two cute munchkins came squealing, holding the little cake with small hands.

You moved your figure out of the way so your man can see what his kids made for him.

"Happy father's day, papa." They both wished him with a hearty smile. Toji was surprised. His heart suddenly warmed up to the feeling of the view in front of him. His two babies with flour patches on their tees, tsumiki's messy bun and megumi with cream near his lips, confirming he must've snuck in a taste when his sister was looking away. He wanted to cry.

You looked down and noticed there was a spelling mistake with the word "world" on the cake which was supposed to spell "to best daddy in the world"

"Gumi, Tsumiki, there's a mis—" Toji looked at you and shaked his head, speaking with his looks, telling you to not say it. He did notice it, but he didn't care about the mistake. All he wanted now was to gobble down the cake that his babies made. He pat them both on the head, ruffling their hair. "Thank you, little bears. Lesgo' enjoy this and then papa will take you and mama to the game world you like."

With the way he is looking at them, you're sure he'd eat that cake even if it was poison.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 .ೃ࿐

Geto didn't think he'll ever have kids, but when he was gifted with twin girls, he claims he is the luckiest person alive ever since.

He loves spoiling his little girls. He takes them shopping, pampers them all the time, helps them learn their nursery rhymes. If they ever were to grow up being too bratty, you are prepared to blame him because he never scolds them. He would dare not to. But that is the thing about kids. You don't yell at them. You don't have to be so harsh. You just have to ease it in and make them understand how their wrongdoings can affect others, hurt others as well as themselves.

Something always triggered inside you when you saw him being soft with Rumi and Arohi. You wished you were treated that way in your childhood. You only thought about them being bratty if not yelled, because that's what your childhood was like.

You were working on some documents, when you heard the door unlocking. Rumi and Arohi walked in with their pink bunny bags on their back.

"Mama, we're home!!" they squealed and ran into your arms, as you quickly set the files aside.

"Aww, seems like you had fun without mama. Where's your dad?"

"There." They pointed at the 3 foot box with legs on the door.

"AH! OH MY GOD. Who are you? How did you get in?" Your mother instincts hid the girls behind your back, as you tried to find something to hit the man with.

"Y/N, NO. IT'S ME," the box monster yelled. He moved his head revealing his fox eyes and you could recognize him.

"Suguru? Oh dear."

"A little help please," his voice felt struggled. You quickly sprinted towards the door, and helped him trying to get the box on the floor only two reaveal all the bags he had behind him.

"Did you guys buy the whole store? And what's this? A lego set?"

"That's for you, mama," Rumi stated.

"Yes mama, we got it for you. The biggest one in the store," said Arohi, running towards her shopping bag filled with toys.

"Suguru, for me? Why?"

"Darling. I always see you doing so much for us," his palms now cupped your cheek. "It broke my heart when you told me that story when you wanted the lego set but the responsibile daughter in you felt you did nothing to achieve it so why ask for it. Well here you go."

"I still don't understand," you shaked your head.

"Y/n. It's okay to spoil yourself. You don't always have to work hard to give yourself a little love. These things that you wanted were always yours even if all you did was try." Tears started streaming down your eyes. You felt the seven year old girl in you finally smile.

"Rumi-chan. Arohi-chan. Let's play with mama's gift." All three started sabotaging the tapes and lables in the big blue box.

You felt happy to have this family. You know why he's a great father? Because Suguru doesn't care for two kids. He spoils three. Your daughters, and that little girl in you who wished to have all that you do today.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 .ೃ࿐

A man like nanami will always be a great father. No doubt. But here's one thing you probably don't know about Nanami Kento.

He's a full time salaryman, and part time comedian. Well...probably the worst one because his dad jokes are awful. You wanna know how it started in the first place, right? So it was when you were feeding the two year old the baby food, that you suddenly heard your phone ringing. Kento quicky replaced your place and took over the feeding as you walked towards the hall.

"Aww look at you. Aren't you the cutest baby in the world?" He took the spoon off the alligator cartooned bowl and extended it near her mouth. "Do you want to hear daddy's joke?"

Three mintues later you walked in two the sound of your little girl giggling and laughing. She's never laughed so loud.

"Oh my god. She's laughing."

"Yes. I made her laugh, beloved." Kento looked so happy with the biggest smile.

"Really? What did you do?"

"I said a joke." You luaghed too soon. Was that line a joke because Nanami Kento being comical? No. Impossible.

"I am sorry, baby. It's not true, right?"

"It is. You wanna see? Okay here we go." He moved his head back to harumi. "Harumi, do you know what do you call an alligator in a vest?" Your eyes were hooked on to them.

"An investigator." You couldn't believe your eyes nor your ears. She was really laughing. You chuckled too. Harumi must really loved his dad. Either that, or she has a poor sense of humor like the blonde in front of her.

Since then, Kento always collects dad jokes like pokemons and records her giggling.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 .ೃ࿐

Trust me or not, Sukuna is a great father. I'll tell you why. You don't see his protectiveness? Yeah he doesn't show much care on the surface, but you don't spot how he is always lurking behind you to whoop anyone's ass who tries to hurt his loved ones?

That's how Sukuna is even as a father. He wants his kids to stand up for themselves, but he'd always be having their back. To hold them and catch them if they trip.

"Oh they sure do grow up fast. You blink and they're already in college, y/n," your neighbor laughed with you. It was Akio's fifth birthday party.

"Everything looks great, but... " she scanned around, "don't you think pink theme is too girly for a boy? Especially the flower tiara on Akio's head.

You were irritated. How dare she say that? Unfortunately for her, Sukuna heard it and quickly walked to you. He kneeled to place the sanrio stickers on Akio's cheeks.

"Yeah so?" Your husband questioned the woman. "Who said pink is for just girls? And even if it was, there wouldn't be anything wrong with Akio liking it." The silence followed made it clear she didn't expect the clapback.

"Plus the tiara makes him look the cutest. Maybe you should try one. It's on the counter. You can surely use..." he eyed her head to toe"...some glow up.

She immediately rushed out of the door with her son and not apparently the counter. You three burst out laughing.

"Ugly Bitch telling my son what he should like."

"KUNA!" you slapped his back for swearing in front of your child.

"What?! Hey, if Akio ever wanted to call her that, I will galdy let it slide. In fact, I'll support him."

He might act like an immature kid sometime, but you know you had kids with the right person when he makes sure his children are raised in healthy environment.

Taglist: @denji-star @simp-lauren @katsukichu @bbytamaki @thebrokenkitkat @his-saiko @loml-riri @milophiliac @aztecbrujeria @tohokuu @chailattle @erintaro @pumpumrins @lilitudemon @suyacho @keiskyutie @aiizenn @fluffy-ai @bibemiiu @4sat0ruu @namcore @yuujispinkhair @buerriberry @vagabond-umlaut @thedead101