#anyway i think i deserve to be celebrated for fathers' day as i had to be my own parent (both mother & father) <333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[celestialmancer]

...A h.

[munson-blurbs]

hope you don't mind me asking but could reader adopt harris officially? it'd be a sweet little blurb ☺️

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Harris makes a special request on his birthday: for you to adopt him and officially be his mommy.

TW: mention of parental neglect/drug use, pretty much just all fluff and happiness

WC: 2.2k

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms out there! Y'all are badasses who deserve to be celebrated. I used this video for the judge's dialogue to ensure accuracy.

February 2001

“So, Har,” Eddie starts through a mouthful of cake, “did you have a good birthday?”

Harris nods emphatically, digging into his own slice. A dollop of vanilla frosting dots the tip of his nose, but he continues eating, unbothered.

Eddie looks at you as you try to contain the inevitable mess that Hendrix will make. His chubby cheeks are already decorated with chocolate cake, and he’s only a few bites in. “Can you believe we have a nine-year-old now?”

You shake your head. The years truly have flown by, and though you haven’t had the privilege of being there for all of them, it feels as though Harris’s fifth birthday was only yesterday. 

“What’s crazy to me is that Harris is the same age you were when I took you in,” Wayne says to Eddie. He glances at his nephew, a wistful look in his old eyes. 

“Oh, yeah!” Harris grins. “I forgot you took care of Daddy.”

Eddie leans back in his seat and smirks. “Did you ever regret adopting me, Old Man?” 

“Every damn day.”

While he may have tuned out his dad and grandfather’s back-and-forth, you can see Harris pause before he continues eating. He’s never been one to stifle his curiosity, the wheels in his head turning as he processes the information. 

His time to ask a question grinds to a halt when Hendrix slams his little palm right into the cake slice, grabs a chunk of it, and smashes it into his face. If any actually got in his mouth, it would be a miracle. 

Harris gets his opportunity later that night. Eddie tucks him into bed, pulling the SpongeBob comforter up to his chin, and kisses his head. 

“Daddy?” Harris asks before Eddie can stand up. 

“Hmm?”

“Why did Grampa adopt you?”

Eddie exhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek. As his eldest son has gotten older, he’s become more honest with him, not constantly shielding him from painful truths. He chooses his words carefully before speaking again. 

“Well, my mom and dad weren’t good parents. They didn’t take care of me, and they made a lot of bad choices,” he says. Memories flash through his mind, ones of eviction notices and strangers constantly in his home. Ones of police officers snapping handcuffs on his parents’ wrists, the two of them too far gone to even register to the severity of the situation. He shakes it off, turning his attention back to Harris. “And so Grampa Wayne took me in and adopted me so I would have a safe, happy home.”

“Like how my mom made bad choices? My real mom?”

Eddie nods, wondering if Harris knows how closely their situations resembled each other. Except you did what your father didn’t–you changed, he reminds himself. 

“Yeah, like that.”

Harris thinks for a moment. “But now Mom is my mom. So does that mean she adopted me?”

“No, she didn’t adopt you.” His heart sinks when he sees the small pout forming on Harris’s lips. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Why not?”

Eddie scratches at his jawline, his nails digging into a particular itchy patch of stubble. “Well, honestly���we wanted to make sure it was what you wanted, Har. Because Mom will love you no matter what,” he makes sure to add. 

Without any hesitation, Harris declares, “It’s what I want.”

“Are you sure? You can sleep on it—” Eddie feels a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth despite his attempt to remain neutral. Yes, his son often acts on impulse, but Eddie can tell this isn’t one of those instances. 

Harris huffs out an impatient sigh, irritated that he even has to explain himself. “Dad, I’m nine now,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m almost double-digits. And I know I want Mom to adopt me.”

Eddie grins wider, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. “All right, bud. You got it.” He stands up with a grunt, something that Harris has already dubbed an ‘old man noise.’ “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm-hm,” Harris agrees sleepily, cocooning himself in his blankets while Eddie turns out the light. 

Eddie is teeming with excitement when he sees you sitting in the family room, an open bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in your lap. Hendrix was fast asleep in his crib, and it was finally time for you and your husband to relax. 

“So,” Eddie says, sliding onto the couch cushion next to you and plucking a chip from the bag, “it turns out that the birthday boy has one more gift request. A big one, actually.”

You raise your brows. “How big? Like, Hot Wheels track big or space camp big?”

“Neither.” Eddie’s eyes gleam. “He wants you to adopt him.”

You sit up quickly, a smile stretching across your face. “Are you…are you serious?”

“One hundred percent.” Eddie says with a nod. “He insisted on it, actually. I don’t think you could say no even if you wanted to.”

His teasing would normally draw a snarky retort from you, but you’re too overwhelmed to come up with a quip. “Harris wants me to adopt him,” you say slowly, letting each word seep into your tongue. 

Eddie kisses your cheek, his nose brushing your warm skin. “This is everything I ever wanted for him, you know,” he murmurs. Another kiss, then he tilts your chin so he can place his lips on yours. “Thank you for loving him.”

You snuggle in closer, your head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me.”

September 2002

It’s a special occasion when you can convince Eddie and Wayne Munson to wear a suit and tie, but you didn’t even have to ask today. Both men are dressed with their shirts tucked into their slacks—not jeans. 

You smooth out a pleat in your dress, scoop Hendrix out of his Pack-N-Play, and grin at your family. 

“You guys ready?” You ask, desperate to get everyone into the car before someone spills something on their clothes. While Harris and Hendrix would be the most obvious culprits of a mess, the men are just as capable of causing chaos.

Eddie slings Hendrix’s diaper bag over his shoulder and takes Harris’s hand in his. “Let’s ship out, team.”

“Ship out!” Hendrix echoes–loudly, right in your ear. You wince, but you can’t stay annoyed for too long, considering how happy you are. How happy everyone is; even the baby of the family, who doesn’t know why he’s in a good mood, just that he is.

Everyone piles into the sedan: Eddie in the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat, and Wayne squished between his grandsons in the back.

“Don’t know how I ended up here,” Wayne grumbles, reaching behind for his seatbelt. 

Eddie grabs your hand as he pulls onto the road, giving it a tender squeeze. This is a huge deal; logically, you know this. To Eddie, he’s officially giving his son the mother he always deserved, and you’ll be able to make all sorts of important decisions for Harris. But to you, there is no piece of paper that can strengthen or weaken your love for your oldest son. Still, this is a promise from you to Harris, one that you will never break.

The courthouse’s silence is promptly broken with the Munsons’ arrival, as your family’s presence tends to do. Hendrix enjoys the way his delighted shrieks reverberate down the empty hallway, and Harris grips a nearby bench to jump out his nervous energy.

“Har?” you call out, waving him over to a private spot. He stops jumping long enough to follow you, shaking his hands excitedly.

You crouch down to his height and dig through your purse until you find what you’re looking for: a shiny silver compass with a quote engraved on the back:

“If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.” 

“Uncle Dusty recommended his favorite compass, and he said you can bring it on your next camping trip” you say with a smile, your lower lip trembling as you hold back tears. “I hope that every time you use it, you remember that I’ll always be here to help you find your way.”

Harris looks from you to the compass and back again. He grins and flings his arms around you, nearly knocking you over in the process.

“This is so cool!” He cheers. “I’m gonna show everyone!”

“What do you say?” Eddie reminds him, a twinkle in his eye.

Harris barely turns around to you to yell, “Thanks, Mom!”

Mom. That title never gets old, and you don’t think it ever will.

“Munson?” You jump slightly when a bailiff announces that it’s your turn to see the judge. He gives a small smile as you enter the courtroom, probably relieved that this is a joyful occasion that won’t likely require his intervention.

This is it, you think. You wish your dress had pockets to hide your trembling hands.

Everyone takes their positions. Harris stands between you and Eddie, and Wayne holds Hendrix at the end, ready to make a quick getaway in case the youngest Munson decides to throw a tantrum.

The judge addresses you directly. Her tone is firm but warm as she says, “Do you understand that if your petition for the adoption of Harris Wayne Munson is granted, you will be legally responsible for him?”

“Yes.” You feel Harris’s palm slide against yours; when you briefly look down, you see that his other hand is holding Eddie’s.

“And do you understand that this support includes food, clothing, shelter, as well as medical and educational support?” She continues.

You nod. “Yes.”

“And do you understand that if your request is granted, that you will be Harris’s parent in all respects, just as if he had been born to you?”

“Yes.” Your heart swells with love. Just as if he had been born to you. Even with the memorable pains and trials brought on by carrying and delivering Hendrix, you considered Harris just as much your son.

“And do you understand you will be undertaking the intellectual, spiritual, and moral guidance of Harris?”

You can almost hear your husband’s thoughts: Better her than me.

“Yes.” 

The judge goes through a few more questions, all regarding your abilities to care for Harris. With each one, you feel Harris’s bouncing get more exuberant; part of you wishes you could join him.

Finally, she declares, “Based upon the reports and recommendations, this court finds that granting this petition is in the best interest of Harris.” She looks directly at Harris as she says, “Congratulations, she’s officially your Mommy.”

A choked sob escapes your throat, and your free hand flies to your mouth. You and Eddie both crouch down to embrace Harris, and you can’t help but notice the tears in your husband’s eyes. Wayne makes his way to you and, as best as he can with Hendrix still in his arms, wraps you in a hug. You think he might be the only adult not crying, but a tell-tale sniffle gives him away.

Hendrix is very confused by the overt display of emotion. The last time Wayne cried was well before the boy was born, back when the Colts won the 1970 Super Bowl against the Cowboys.

“Daddy? Mommy? Grampa?” He asks. “Why you cry?”

“We’re fine, buddy. Just have some big feelings. Happy feelings,” Eddie clarifies, kissing Hendrix on a chubby cheek. He looks at Harris and grins. “How does it feel, Har? Now that Mom adopted you?”

Harris scrunches up his face. “Like the same.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. It’s not as wild as it was when he was your student, his curls less of a mop. “Good ‘the same’?”

He grins, nodding and hugging you again. “I can’t wait to tell all of my friends, and Uncle Dusty, and Mr. Will…”

Harris continues listing people he’s going to share his news with all the way to the parking lot. Some names you recognize, and others he might as well be making up.

“Wait! I almost forgot!” You reach into your purse and pull out a Ziploc bag containing five Oreos. “Everyone take one, but don’t eat it yet.”

When each person has an Oreo in their hand, you raise your own to eye-level and begin your toast. “To my first son, Harris. Thank you for making me a mommy.”

“To Harris!” Wayne and Eddie chorus, and Hendrix just yells his brother’s name before chowing down on his cookie. 

As you all pile back into the car, Eddie takes your hand in his. Chocolate is still tucked into the crevices of his lips. 

“To you, Sweetheart. Thank you for being the mommy Harris always wanted. Thank you for making us a family again.”

The kiss tastes of vanilla creme, sugary sweet, and you swear you wouldn’t have broken it if Wayne didn’t clear his throat. 

“No need to make a third kid up there,” he mutters under his breath. 

Eddie glares at him, hoping Harris didn’t overhear the comment, but you press on. “Shall we celebrate at the diner?”

“Can we share pancakes?” Harris beams.

You crane your neck and look back at him, once again overwhelmed by the amount of love you hold for him–for your son.

“I’d love to.”

--

[milla-frenchy]

His favorite game

2k1 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you meet a corrupt security guard. (Un)fortunately, he's hot Warnings: 18+ mdni. Javi's pov, age gap (reader is 22, Javi in his 40s), darkish, dubcon, coercion, power imbalance, degradation, oral (m), piv, creampie

a/n: this is written for @toomanystoriessolittletime 's follower celebration. I got this prompt/plot (darkish Javi P) Congrats on your milestone 🥳🥳

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 dividers @saradika-graphics

“I can suck your cock, if you want.”

Javi scoffed, until he realized she was dead serious. His dark eyes were on her, as he was leaning against his desk and she was sitting in front of him in a chair. He could see the worry in the shoplifter’s eyes. Concern that he'd call the cops. 

So she told him the first thing that came to her mind. She thought he was handsome, anyway, with his brown hair, his slim waist, and his broad shoulders. His uniform, which would look ridiculous on anyone else, suited him well. She was sure he’d be devastating, in a bar, wearing some jeans and a t-shirt. She was also pretty sure she’d try to seduce him, that man in his forties, the perfect dilf. And hopefully ending up with him in his car or in his apartment. 

“You wanna suck my cock?” he mocked. “And asking me to forget about the police, right? That's what you're telling me?”

“Yeah.”

He checked her ID, to be sure she wasn't under age.

Then he pointed at his crotch with his chin and lit a cigarette as she got on her knees and pulled his cock out. She sucked his tip, his cock, his balls, and he shot his cum deep into her throat, even before he finished his cig.

That's how it started. A week after his first day at the job. 

After he had returned from Columbia, it helped him to forget his past life. 

To forget that he didn’t get along with his father anymore, after he had told him that he wouldn’t take over the ranch. 

To forget that he had lost himself in every woman he fucked, creating an endless circle. 

To forget that he had never drunk and smoked so much in his life. 

To forget that in the past some people considered him a hero. It was as if he wanted to prove them all that they were wrong. 

To forget that he had given too much to the agency for his life to end up like that.

So since that first time, he took the habit of spotting women he could easily convince. The easy targets. Either too shy, or on the contrary those who weren’t shy at all. He really liked shutting up brats with his fat cock.

He loved the hunt, he loved spotting those who wouldn't say ’no’ to him. Either because they wouldn’t dare, or because they would easily take the challenge, the thrill, the chance of blowing him off in his office.

Javi sees a group of women passing in front of his security office. Twenty-somethings. He can notice these types of groups from miles away now. Young women who think they deserve everything because they’re pretty. Or rich. 

He watches them laugh as they walk past him. Look at him. They must think it sucks, being a security guard at a mall.

He leaves his office and follows them inside, at a decent distance. He watches them laugh, loudly exchange comments, barely hiding the way they are making fun of people who don't fit their standards. It only makes him smirk. He's seen so many of these brats pass by. 

His steps are soft, light. No one would think he was following anyone. 

He's dressed in his black uniform with the word "security" on his shoulder and his back. He pauses at the same time as them. Swirls his toothpick between his teeth, watching them.

The group finally splits up. Three of the young women head to a clothing store. The fourth, you, waves goodbye to them and goes to a record store.

He’s watching you, as you look at the vinyl record covers, then the posters on the wall. And finally, some walkmans. You don't know it yet, but you’re his target. Separated from your friends.

You leave the store, your big purse slung over your shoulder, open. 

He thinks that he really wants to wipe the smile off your face. So he steals a Walkman from the store, grateful that the mall management still hasn’t installed the anti-theft devices there. 

This isn't the first time he places an object in a woman's bag, just to get her in his office. To see how she reacts. See if she offers to suck him off, too.

He slips the Walkman into your bag, then lets you head for the exit, letting the detectors beep loudly when you’re about to leave. He quickly runs towards you, as you’re looking confused. He asks you to open your bag and you do it, sure of yourself, but then you see the Walkman.

“Come with me, miss. You'll explain yourself in my office.”

You object the whole time walking there, saying you didn't do anything. 

He’s already hard. 

He closes the office door behind you and leans against his desk. Finding yourself alone with him in this office makes you a little uncomfortable, and you shift on your feet. He takes his time, letting your anxiety build, his gaze fixed on you. Cold. Frowning. Like an adult who’s about to lecture a child.

“So, miss. I have to call the police, you know.”

“I didn’t do anything!” you reply. 

“Well, is that your purse, miss?”

“Yes, it’s my purse. But I didn’t steal this. I can buy one if I want, I can afford it.”

“Have you never heard of kleptomania?”

“No, what is it?”

“What, you don’t have enough money to pay for college?”

You roll your eyes, deeply offended.

“Anyway, like I said, I have to call the police,” he says, reaching for his phone.

“Wait!” He pauses and turns back to you, raising an eyebrow. “Mmm?”

“Can’t we… can we work it out?”

“Work it out? How do you want to work it out?”

“You take the Walkman and bring it back to the store. We forget all of this,” you say, sweeping the air with your hand, as if it was just a nuisance, something insignificant.

“So you can steal again in a few days? I don’t think so.”

“I told you…,” you start to say. Then stop. “Can I offer you some money then?”

“I don’t need your money, miss. And I’m not sure you understand how serious this is.”

You bite your lip, and he sees your gaze fall to his crotch and he tries not to smirk. It's almost too easy. 

“Wait! I can… do something for you, if you want.”

“Like what?” he says, keeping his tone neutral. He sees you hesitate. Sees the way you swallow. He leans toward the phone again, forcing you to break.

“Wait! I could do something.”

He raises his hands, as if he doesn’t understand what you're talking about at all.

"I could...." you start to say, motioning at his crotch with your chin.

“What? I got a stain or something?” he asks, looking at the spot you pointed to.

“Suck your cock,” you whisper.

“Excuse me, what?” He sees you roll your eyes and adds, “I didn’t hear you, miss.”

“I could… suck your cock.” Your eyes set downward as heat reaches your cheeks.

He doesn’t answer, he makes you wait for his reaction.

“If you want,” you add.

“You’re telling me you’ll blow me, and in exchange I won’t call the police?” he asks, as he has done dozens of times before.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.  

“How old are you?”

“Twenty two.”

“It’s the first time I come across not only a thief, but also a slut, that wants to suck my dick to get away with shoplifting,” he lies to you.

“And this is the first time I’ve come across a security guard so corrupt that he’s willing to accept it.”

“Watch that mouth.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will fuck it.”

The way you squeeze your thighs together doesn't go unnoticed.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you wanna suck my cock to leave this office free.”

“I… wanna suck your cock, so you won’t call the police.”

“Good girl,” he praises in a tone you haven’t heard from him before. Directive. Dark.

“Now come here. Get on your knees and beg for it.”

You turn to the door, worried that someone might come in.

“Don’t worry. Nobody will interrupt us.”

You walk over to him, as he’s leaning against his desk, and kneel down.

“I said, beg for it.”

“Pl…please?”

“Oh you can do better than that. Your father ever taught you good manners?”

No one has ever spoken to you like that, and the tingling between your legs makes you stop breathing for a few seconds.

“Please, can I suck your cock, sir?”

“Much better. Maybe you’re a quick learner.”

“Fuck,” you whimper. 

“You like that, huh?” 

You don’t answer, eyes fixed on the ground. He grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger and makes you look up at him. 

“No need to be shy or deny it. You’ve squeezed your thighs together twice in the last 2 minutes. Take out my cock, miss,” he orders.

You comply and unzip his pants, before sliding them down his thighs. He’s hard. You pull it out of his boxers and stare at it. Holding your breath again.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you’ll have to. Come on.”

You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft and lick up the precum that oozes out. Giving it a few licks.

“Don’t tease. I saw you, with your friends. Thinking you're better than everyone else. I hope you can do better than that with your mouth, now.”

His degradation turns you on. You take him in your mouth, struggling to wrap your lips around his tip. You feel your panties soaking wet. You apply yourself, sucking the head, licking his shaft and his balls, which are resting heavily against his thighs.

“Keep looking at me when I’m letting you suck my cock.”

God, you think. You're so turned on that you’d let him fuck you right now. You lick his shaft, tongue flat, eyes fixed on him. Tears well up in your eyes when he forces his way down your throat.

“You wet?” he asks, his cock in the back of your throat, his hands holding your head against him. You try keeping yourself back from gagging, and nod.

“Get up,” he says, releasing you. “Take off your clothes. Show me.”

You undress mechanically, then he grabs your hips and presses you against his desk, forcing you to spread your thighs, as he slides his body between them. He presses his hand against your pussy and hisses.

“You're dripping, baby. You need it bad, huh?”

You nod. 

“Say it.”

“I need it, fuck! That's what you wanna hear?”

He smirks then grabs his cock in his hand and thrusts into you in one go, and you can't help but scream.

“Quiet,” he says, jaw clenched, covering your mouth with his hand, and starts fucking you hard.

“Watch it. Watch how I'm splitting you in two,” he says, finally removing his hand.

“Fuck, fuck,” you mumble as you look down and watch his cock plunge into you, soaked by your wetness.

“Pussy’s squeezing me so hard, fuck. Turn around,” he says, as he grabs your arm and bends you over the desk. He thrusts in again and grips your hips, slamming into you.

“Worth it?”

“Wh… what?” You can barely breathe, let alone speak.

“Whoring yourself for a Walkman?”

“Shit… I didn’t fuckin’ steal it.”

“I know,” he growls.

“What?!” you exclaim, trying to stand up, but he grabs your shoulder and presses you roughly against the desk, the weight of his body on your back, as he keeps pounding into you fast and hard.

“I wanted to wipe that smirk off your face. Make you beg for my cock. I know a slut when I see one,” he says in the hollow of your ear. He slides his hand down to your pussy and brushes your clit with his finger. Slows down the pace. Fucks you gently, trying to get what he wants.

“Now you’re gonna come on this cock. You’re gonna give it to me, like a good whore, baby. ‘cause that’s what you’re good at.”

“You’re… a fucking freak,” you pant. But you don’t fight, don’t resist. A part of you thinks it’s hot, the way he got you. And you want to come, need to come, he’s fucking you too well. You let your orgasm rush over your body, your pussy clenching on his shaft. He freezes deep inside you and comes, covering your walls in white ropes.

He stays pressed against your back, his hands tight around your wrists.

“I knew I picked a good one, today,” he smiles against your ear.

Javi p masterlist

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring @iamasaddie @itwasntimethatdidit40

[catgrandpa]

I started this post with the intention of asking for fic recs where Bruce gets his kids early, but then I ended up just writing some ficlets

_(:3 」∠)_

I still really just want recs I swear but I wrote these anyway and am incapable of doing more with them so here

☆彡

Dick Grayson is 8 years old when he watches his parents die. Bruce is 24 years old when he sees a young boy’s life fall to pieces. He’s far too young to be a single father. But he sees too much of himself in the child, and he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to walk away from him.

He talks to Alfred about his fears of only furthering Dick’s trauma by failing him as a guardian. It takes some time, but Alfred is able to convince Bruce to find a therapist and take some discreet parenting classes. He’s still Batman, and I don’t think he’s capable of Gentle Parenting™ but he does do better. Plus, Dick is young enough to learn to read Bruce before the teenage hormones kick in so they manage to communicate much more effectively with each other.

☆彡

Bruce meets Catherine Todd by chance because there was a cool park Dick wanted to stop at. She’s trying to deal with her hungry and fussy 3 year old step son, but she’s young and stressed out and hungry herself and she just doesn’t know what to do. Bruce offers to take them out for lunch. He asks Dick to take Jason to the play area in the corner while they talk.

She breaks down and tells him of her struggles with addiction. She does her best to keep Jason fed, but it’s so hard. Feeding him means she goes hungry most of the time because she can’t quit using. Jason wouldn’t survive if she had to go through withdrawals with him.

He’s not even her kid! Not really. Her husband is just an abusive deadbeat so she doesn’t have a choice. She does love him, but she never wanted kids, and she can’t just let a child die when she can do something.

Bruce fills their fridge and cabinets to the brim (he offers to do much more for them but that’s all she will budge on. She has too much pride to accept outright charity, but she will do what she can to keep her kid safe) and he makes it clear to her that he is willing to take care of Jason for however long is necessary when she decides to take the first step to get clean.

Two months later, Willis gets arrested and Catherine shows up at Wayne Manor and tells Bruce she signed up for inpatient, but she thinks it would be best for Jason and for herself if Bruce would be willing to take permanent custody. She stays in Jason’s life, just not as a mother figure.

☆彡

A year or so later, Bruce gifts Alfred with a vacation as an early birthday present. Things have been hectic with the sudden acquisition of two sons, and Alfred has done so much, he deserves a break. Bruce promises he’ll be able to handle two kids on his own.

Turns out, he was mostly right, but only just barely. The kids are fine, the manor not so much. He ends up hiring a few services to help out with general housekeeping. A couple of those workers also happen to be regular hires for the Drakes.

Bruce overhears them talking about how sad it is that those awful people treat their toddler more like a doll than a child. He learns that not only do they leave for long periods at a time while not hiring a proper nanny to watch over their son, just expecting the help to take care of him, but they also lock him away on his own whenever it’s ’not fashionable’ to have a 2 year old around.

Alfred comes back to the manor on August 15th, just in time to celebrate his and Master Jason’s birthdays together. He opens the door and dodged around a very excited 4 year old jumping up and down in the entry hall.

“ALFIE! ALFIE! BOOSE GOT ME A BABY BWOTHER FOR MY BIRFDAY! LOOK! LOOK! HIMS NAME IS TIMMY AND HE’S THE BESTEST!”

Alfred leans over to peak behind the boy, and sees a very quiet, very small child standing behind him.

“Oh, dear.”

☆彡

The day Bruce got the call from Talia telling him she was pregnant with his child was one of the best days of Bruce’s life. The day she called to tell him she miscarried was one of the worst.

The only blessing was that he didn’t need to explain it to his kids. Talia was going to move in once she was in her second trimester, and they planned to reveal her pregnancy together.

He got the call two weeks before her flight out. He begged her to come anyway, he loved her, they could still be a family. She refused.

Six and a half months later, he walks into his bedroom to find Talia standing by the window with a squirming bundle in her arms. With equal measures steel and sorrow in her eyes she tells Bruce she is sorry for what she put him through, but it was the only way to keep their son safe. He gathers them both in his arms and holds them tight as she explains.

Her father had planned to raise an heir to be the Demon Head. He would be kept a secret from Batman until the very end. But when Talia gave the final push to birth their son, he came out quiet. She panicked for a moment until her midwife quietly leaned down to listen to the baby’s breathing and then looked up with a soft smile, she bundled up the small thing and handed Talia her baby. Big beautiful green eyes blinked up at her. The midwife leaned closer to Talia and whispered, “Sadly, your son was stillborn. I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but surely The Great Head of the Demon would be willing to allow you some time away from your duties while you recover.” Talia allowed the woman to cover her beautiful cooing baby gently with soft linen and silk and carry him from the room. Later that night she left her home with her son and boarded the first flight to Gotham.

Tears gather on Bruce’s lashes and he tells her everything will be alright because now they can finally be together as a family. Once more, she refuses. She tells him Damian and his boys are far too precious for her to bring the danger of the league of assassins to their door. Bruce closes his eyes in sorrow, but nods his acceptance. He asks her to at least stay the night together. They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms with their baby boy safely bundled between them. Talia is gone when he wakes.

☆彡

It’s been one week since Talia left and, while still beyond upset, Bruce feels like he’s starting to have a decent handle on things. He is sitting with his boys at the breakfast table, Dick and Jason to his left, Tim to his right, Damian in his arms, and Alfred across from him. They’re finally able to have a relaxing breakfast. No babies crying, no food fights, no arguing, just the sounds of eating and gentle chatter.

He feels a small hand grab his right sleeve and give a gentle tug.

“Boo?” Tim asks, quietly. Bruce feels his heart warm at his son finally feeling like he can speak up without permission.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why isn’t Big Sister sitting with us?”

Alfred is the only person in the room other than Tim to not startle at the sudden appearance of a 5 year old girl standing next to Bruce at the dining table. He simply sighs, stands up, and grabs another place setting for her at the table.

[penkura]

Father's Day Moments

Note: Sorry this so late today, I've been busy with my own stuff this weekend, but I got it done! :) This is simply Father's Day moments with a small surprise in each of them, I had a blast writing these. 💚 I know again that this day can be hard for some, so if this isn't something you're okay with reading, please feel free to skip it and read something makes you happy today. 💚💚

Ace has rarely ever thought about Father’s Day, considering his own issues with his father and all that growing up. Even after joining the Whitebeard Pirates he never thought too much of the day, only when Marco or someone else brought it that it was about that time of year. Once he has own his children, the sweet little girls you both share, he still doesn’t think about the day as being that important, it feels more for the kids then it does for the dad in his mind. You do most of the caring for your daughters anyway, even though Ace helps as much as he can when he’s not busy, you two are a team, you should use the day to rest together, right?

That’s why, after you get Rogue and Ann to give Ace the little handmade cards you helped them with (he’s not crying, you’re seeing things), Ace tries to pass the girls off to Marco and Izo for the day, having asked the two the day before if they could take the girls off the ship for the afternoon so you two could relax together. They both had agreed, you find it very odd they’re so willing to take the two when they’ve jokingly called your daughters little hell fires, Rogue and Ann are happy to go with them onto the island you’re docked at for a couple hours.

You’re still skeptical even when all Ace does is pull you into bed for a nap (just a nap, he swears when you ask if he’s got other motives). “Ace, what’s this all about? You know it’s—”

“Father’s Day, yeah, I know,” Ace buries his face in your hair and you can’t help but nearly melt in his arms, he’s so warm all the time, it feels so nice just to lay with him, “But you deserve some time off too~”

The way he nuzzles into your neck makes you giggle, wanting to say something about how you already had your day until he speaks up again.

“I wanna have another baby with you~”

That’s not a surprise to you, he’s said it several times since Ann turned four and you first brought it up, just wondering what his opinion would be and Ace promising he’d get back to you when he had decided. He finally did just about a week or two ago, right after her birthday, telling you that one more would be perfect, your family would be complete whether boy or girl.

“Yeah, that sounds good, Ace.”

It’s a few moments of silence before you hear him snoring, but it still makes you laugh softly before running your fingers through his hair while he sleeps.

“Happy Father’s Day, you dork.”

~~

Father’s Day had left a bad taste in Law’s mouth for a long time, having lost his own father and then Corazon, it first made him resent the day before it became just another day that meant time was passing by. No one to celebrate meant he could ignore it, until you came along and blessed him with your son and daughter, the two angels he watches play doctor almost every day with their stuffed animals. Eight-year-old Rosi and two-year-old Cora, both his spitting image and the brightest part of his days, apart from you obviously.

The day is quiet while your children play, Law trying to take a nap for once when he feels someone come over and put something on his chest, cracking one eye open to see Cora has her toy stethoscope while Rosi holds her up so she can reach, and it makes him smile. They’re both just darling, even if Rosi is reaching the point where he’ll say how embarrassing such statements are.

“What’s up? I need a checkup from Dr. Cora?”

She giggles and nods, while Rosi huffs a little. Cora has gotten so big, its hard for him to hold her for very long. He asks if she’s almost done, when she nods again and takes her toy off Law’s chest.

“All done!” Law ruffles her hair a bit and thanks her, as Rosi tells her they should go check her stuffed bunny now. The two hurry back to their toys, as Law tries again to nap before he feels like someone else is watching him, opening his eyes to see you leaned over giving him a smile.

“Have you gotten to rest at all?”

“No, but it’s fine,” shaking his head a bit, Law notices you seem to want to say something, and gives you a look, “You okay?”

“Mm,” nodding you look over to your children, watching them briefly as they wrap bandages around the bunny’s ears, “Just…what would you say to one more?”

Law raises an eyebrow and sees how fidgety you are by asking, wondering if you’ve already gotten an answer and you’re just double checking with him that it would be okay, or if you just suddenly have baby fever again. Either way, he doesn’t think it would be a bad thing. It would be welcomed.

“I think that would be fine…”

The way you light up and grin makes Law start to smile too, even when you begin to ramble a bit about how you haven’t felt well, which he knew already, and how you had gone and taken a pregnancy test, and well, looks like your ‘one more’ is coming sooner than expected based on the pink plus sign when you show him the test. Rosi and Cora were both planned, and while this one wasn’t, there’s an excitement in his heart that Law can’t deny at the thought of having another child with you.

Its not such a bad Father’s Day gift honestly.

~~

To be honest, Penguin never thought he’d be this lucky. He never thought he’d be lucky enough to find you, to get married and have two daughters with you, and now have the joy of bringing home your newborn son on Father’s Day, two days old and baby Sage has joined his sisters in your home, the eight-year-old and four-year-old girls both squealing over how tiny he is.

Penguin beams with pride while he watches them, Wren has gotten over her jealousy of having little siblings ever since Ivy started to get older and could play with her. When you told them the baby was a boy, they were both ecstatic to get a baby brother, and loved coming to the hospital to see and meet him.

As the two try to push each other out of the way to see him while Penguin holds Sage, you put your hands on their heads and quiet them down.

“Hey now, that’s enough. We don’t want to scare him. Don’t you two something for daddy anyway?”

Wren gasps loudly before nodding and grabbing Ivy’s hand, yelling for Penguin to wait there while they ran off to their room. He gives you a confused look while you sit beside him and start to coo at Sage.

“Babe, what’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. It was all them.”

When they finally come back, both are holding drawings they’d made the other day with you watching them (mostly since they were using markers). Wren had drawn your whole family as penguins while Ivy had mostly done stick figure drawings of your now family of five, both making sure to include the newest addition. They both tell Penguin ‘happy Father’s Day’ as they hand the pictures over, and he has to fight to not to cry while he hugs them close, kissing them both on the cheek multiple times and making them giggle.

“You’re both the best daughters I could’ve ever asked for!”

~~

Sanji doesn’t take a day off, what are you talking about? The man is a chef, a professional one at that, and with your twins tenth birthday just two days away, he’s busy making their birthday cakes and all the snacks and treats their friends are going to want at the party too. Even though he knows it’s Father’s Day, you know it too, your twins and second daughter have already given him the cards they’d made, he did cry and didn’t try to hide it, and he went right back to work. It might be a day for him to relax, but he doesn’t for more than those few minutes earlier in the day. He’d taken your three-month-old son Elie after you’d finished nursing him, strapping him against his chest in a baby carrier and getting to work while your baby slept against him so you could rest instead.

Honestly, it kind of made you feel bad because you’d already gotten your day, and Sanji was using his to prepare for your twins birthday party and watch your youngest son, your older three children were busying themselves with cleaning their rooms. You’ve already finished the laundry for the day and go to the kitchen to see Sanji isn’t up and cooking at the moment, instead sitting at the table and playing with your small son’s hands while talking to him while Elie looks up at him.

“I feel really blessed to have all of you, Elie. I really hope that you and your siblings know that as you grow up…” Sanji sighs a bit and places a soft kiss on Elie’s head, “I never want you to feel like I did.”

“They won’t,” you surprise Sanji by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek, “You’re a wonderful father and doing so well with them, Sanji. Just from watching you with all four of our babies, they all absolutely love you.”

“My love—”

“And don’t argue with me, you know its true.”

Sanji laughs and nods, knowing he’d lose that argument in a heartbeat. You’re always so headstrong and just want him to realize that yes, he’s doing a million times better than his own father did, he’s on par with Zeff nowadays, who your kids also have come to adore as their grandfather.

You look around the kitchen a bit, asking if Sanji wants any help, before he starts listing off everything he still has to do and you just watch him. He starts to take Elie out of the baby carrier and hand him over to you as he sees the look on your face.

“Yeah, I’ll uh…sit with Elie while you cook.”

He laughs again, before kissing your forehead and giving you a smile. “That would be wonderful, my love.”

~~

You never truly know how to celebrate Father’s Day when the father of your children is Zoro. It feels like he doesn’t care about it, even when you roll your eyes at him and tell him just to tell you what he wants, before he shrugs and says he doesn’t need anything. He’s got you, Keitaro, and Kuina, and the rest of the Straw Hats, what else could he possibly want or need? There’s nothing material he needs really, unless you want to get him the expensive sake he likes but you think a liquor store owner might find it highly concerning that a seven-month pregnant woman is buying alcohol, which just made Zoro laugh at you when you brought that up.

Ah right, that’s right, it’s not just you, your two children, and the rest of the Straw Hats anymore, or won’t be in a few short weeks. The baby you actually planned this time would be joining you all soon, that’s more than enough. He definitely doesn’t need anything when he thinks about that, just that you and this baby are safe through the rest of your pregnancy and the birth. That’s all he really wants.

Maybe some of that sake still but he’ll get that another way.

His morning meditation that day is interrupted when he senses Keitaro nearby, the seven-year-old trying to sneak up and catch Zoro off guard, though it never works thanks to his observation haki. Even when your son throws his arms around him and yells “gotcha!”, Zoro just smirks a bit, keeping his eyes closed.

“I knew you were there.”

“Daaaad, you’re cheating!” Keitaro whines and pouts, trying to climb onto Zoro’s back before giving up and going around to sit in his lap. “Mama said haki is cheating!”

“That’s only cause your mom can’t sneak up on me either.” He opens his one good eye and stares down at his little clone, the boy still pouting with his arms crossed over his chest. “Where’re your mom and sister?”

“Umm, Kuina’s still asleep, and mama was awake, but said she was going to lay down cause the baby was making her sleepy again.”

“And what are you doing up so early?”

Keitaro starts to look away a bit, shyly trying not to give anything up, before leaning his head against Zoro’s chest and saying “I wanted to hang out just with you…”

When he was younger, Zoro never thought that having kids was for him. He thought they’d get in the way, that there wasn’t any reason to really have them around apart from legacy, but then you showed up and turned everything upside down. Keitaro wasn’t planned, but he’d brought so much more to both your lives than either of you expected. Your sweet Kuina was a surprise too, you swear she’s made Zoro softer in more recent years, something he tries to deny but everyone else can see it when she’s got his attention.

And your coming addition, the one that was planned, even if they hadn’t been you still would welcome this baby happily. Sometimes, Zoro still isn’t sure that fatherhood suits him, but you swear to him that he’s the best father you’ve ever seen, even better than your own, and maybe you’re right, just from how Keitaro quietly wants to spend time with his dad, just the two of them before the day really gets started. Its more apparent when Kuina convinces him to read to her, and when your unborn child kicks at his hand while he talks to them.

“All right, buddy,” Zoro sets one hand on Keitaro’s back and strokes his hair with the other, watching as he starts to fall back asleep too, not used to being up this early, “You stay with me for now then.”

Maybe he’s not so bad at this fatherhood thing after all.

[viennakarma]

hear me out... ending 3: secrets

she just doesn't tell him, publicise their divorce, she's disappeared off the face of the earth basically, she keeps the baby, it's a boy, looks just like him but they just never see each other again. Lewis is upset, can't cope, just keeps partying, drinking during off season, or just gym gym gym not even socialising as much, fashion declines like no longer going for all the cool different clothes and just comes in trousers and merc top.

But how does he find out? when?

Maybe she's just out living a normal life now but an old fan recognises her, she's with her brother and son, maybe they don't recognise the brother and they think she's got a new man and kid, she always wanted a kid and Lewis was never ready wanting to wait. maybe that photo gets released so lewis finds out that way. loads of rumours on twitter. maybe not directly, someone else could bring it up. Jealous then realises. He tries to contact her, doesnt work, blocked on everything. He remembers where her parents house is and visits them, eventually meets yn and their son. Then co-parenting. But like no friendly friendly just civil. She has the son, Lewis has him on free weeks. She does eventually move up cuz when her son is with lewis, she has free time for dates. Just a regular guy tho and it's all great and eventually lewis also tries moving on but like fr this time. so like eventually yn and her new bf move in together, live a happy faithful life and have another kid. while lewis maybe has just won his 8th (or 9th depending on time line) but it's not what he dreamed of, not having yn to celebrate with. But he's got his now long term gf and he proposes.

so basically to summarise, she is alone, single mom, gets exposed, Lewis finds her, civil co-parenting, yn gets a bf happy life, Lewis eventually gets a gf, happy without each other

This is a little blurb on how I imagine a third ending of Say Something would go:

You leave, right after finding out about the pregnancy, maybe somewhere far from England and Monaco. Lewis doesn’t deserve to reap what you saw after ruining your future. He doesn’t deserve you or your kid or to play happy family. You move away, maybe to a farm Australia, since you’ve always wanted a quiet life anyway. Your parents and brother accept moving in with you to help with the risky pregnancy. It’s tough, you can’t do much to risk your health and the baby’s. Soon you find out it’s a boy, you’re happy something good came out of a dumpster fire that was your relationship with him. Him, because you don’t say his name anymore, trying to leave his memory behind.

You baby boy is delivered in a difficult C-section, one your brother and parents never left your side and you felt less alone, not sharing the moment with the father of your kid. The day is happy and sunny, so you name him Helio, like the sun. Like the light in your life. You realize you’ll never fully leave his memory behind, his son being his spitting image. The same hair, the same complexion, the same nose, the same shiny brown eyes and chubby baby cheeks. And you love him so much it hurts. You realize you may have lost him, but Helio was pretty much his copy.

Following your baby’s firsts is the happiest you’ve ever felt. Saying ‘mama’ for the first time, taking his first steps, playing with animals and saying his first words. You settle in a happy routine as a single mom. After the pregnancy, your parents move back to England because they couldn’t just leave their house. Your brother stay with you and your sister move in too, after finishing college.

You try not to know about him. Last you had heard was during the pregnancy, hearing about endless parties, trips and models, that had taken a toll on you, in a way you decided to stop looking. He had a life and you had a completely different one now.

Helio goes to school, eventually. Despite feeling protective, you know you can’t deprive him of a true kindergarten experience, not only for studies, but also for his formative years and to become socially active. The first year, your sister, who has a volunteering job close to his school, is the one who picks Helio up everyday. He makes friends at school and even invite them for a birthday party at the farm. It’s one of the happiest moments for him, eating cake with friends and showing them his pets.

During his second year, though, your sister get a little sick, so she can’t pick Helio from school. And you decide to go, along with your brother. It’s a hot day, so you stop by a park to eat frozen yogurt and let Helio play a little while.

That day, someone recognised you and recorded you.

That’s how Lewis finds you. The video eventually find its way to him. The post has a silly caption ‘for everyone wondering what had happened to y/n, seems like she found a new man and started a family’. Lewis scoffs because he knows the man in the video is your brother and you are thick as thieves ever since you were kids.

You’re just as pretty as ever. Maybe a little more curvy, and hair longer, but just the same, still the most beautiful woman-

But then he pauses. He zooms in the video and see the toddler running up to you. The little boy, who makes your eyes light up as you hug him, sharing what looks like ice cream or something. And from what Lewis can imagine, the boy looks 4 or 5 years old. But there’s no denying, he looks exactly like Lewis as a baby, if he put a baby picture of him beside the boy in the video, it would be the same. It was a matter of time until some of his fans put two and two together.

That’s how Lewis ends up going to your parents’ house in England. He had gone there after the divorce, but the house was for rent and he couldn’t contact your parents of you, after cutting him off completely. Now, when he knocks, you mum is the one to open.

“Is he mine?” Is all he asks, breathing hard.

Your mom let him in, seeing his state of distress. She doesn’t lie nor sugarcoat it. She tried to convince you to let Lewis know about the kid. Helio, he muses, whispering the name of the little boy he never even met.

He goes to Australia with your mum, not even letting you know first, because your mum believed you’d run away once again.

When he makes it to the farm, you’re out in the field with Helio, you two running and playing together barefoot on the grass. He hears Helio’s laugh, yours too, and something inside him breaks. He’s seeing before his eyes the life he threw away for one stupid mistake.

As soon as you notice him, you stop laughing, holding Helio behind you, protective. You call your brother out, asking him to take Helio upstairs and not leave until you say so. Lewis just watches helplessly as your brother takes his nephew inside and Lewis couldn’t even get a closer look at his son.

“Mom, what did you do?” You say, betrayed. You mum explains everything and you invite both of them inside.

Inside, you fight, almost shouting until you remember Helio upstairs, forcing yourself to calm down. Lewis feels betrayed, you tell to his face he doesn’t deserve this life. You pull a stack of documents, asking Lewis to sign. It’s a contract saying he gives up any rights over the kid. Lewis cries.

Your mother mediates.

After what feels like hours of arguing back and forth, you accept Lewis begging to know his kid, begging to be part of his life. How could you deny your kid of a father now you couldn’t hide him behind a layer of ignorance?

You introduce father and son a couple of days later, in the presence of a child therapist, to help mediate. Helio is skittish in the beginning, but he quickly warms up to Lewis. Sometimes, he run backs to you, hugging you tightly, feeling shy. You reassure him, letting him go back to meeting his father.

“Mama, do all daddies take this long?” Helio asks that night when you’re putting him to sleep. You swallow your tears when answering.

“No, my baby. Not all of them. One day you’ll understand better, yes?”

The first time Lewis takes Helio for the day, you cry for hours, feeling like a mother bird in an empty nest. He had invited his family to a nearby city, only 40 minutes away so he could introduce Helio to them. It’s planned for them to come back by dinner time, to not disturb Helio’s routine. But they come back earlier and your baby looked like he’d been crying. Worried, you carry him inside while Lewis explains that the first few hours Helio was enjoying himself and meeting everyone, but after a while, he started crying because he ‘wanted Mama’. Selfishly, that makes your heart grow easier, because you know Helio would never forget you, and in the end of the day, he’d would always want Mama’s arms.

The first months are like torture, until you get used to Helio coming back at the end of the day. Your Helio, your baby, becomes Helio Hamilton when Lewis registers him. Lewis tries to win you over many times, with gifts, inviting you to dates, until you have a stern talk with him, telling him it wasn’t happening. That every time you were polite and respectful to him, Helio’s well being is the only thing in your mind.

Eventually, the media finds out about Helio. Lewis blatantly lies, saying he had been keeping his son’s existence a secret for his safety and privacy. People mostly respected his wishes.

You see Lewis’ family for the first time again at Helio’s fifth birthday. You thought they’d hate you for hiding their grandkid/nephew, but they treat you with the same kindness as always, and you feel just a tiny bit of guilt for hiding Helio for so long.

You realised that you had much more free time now that Helio was with Lewis half of the time. So you started going to the gym, going shopping, not only for Helio but for yourself, you went to museums, parks and eventually, dates.

One day you meet Leon, a recluse just like you. He’s a writer, living in a cottage in a close city. You hit it off, but you and him get to know each other for a whole year before you introduce him to your family, and Lewis. Your ex-husband doesn’t take it well, admitting that deep down he thought you’d go back and be a family. You tell him, he ruined that himself.

You find some resemblance of balance. With Lewis’ coming to pick Helio whenever he had free time, you weren’t friends just a cold politeness.

Lewis, whenever he had to pick Helio, he found you and Leon sitting by the porch, or horseback riding, or helping Helio with homework and school projects, he would always envy your life, the happy family he could have, but he had only himself to blame. When he finds out by Helio you’re having another baby, he swears a part of him dies forever, buried alongside your love for him, and the future he threw away. Eventually, Lewis married again, a woman who loves him, loves Helio and she even gets along with you well, and that’s all he can ask for, knowing deep down he would never love someone else the way he loved you.

PHEW! I may have gotten carried away. Thank you for your ideia, Anon! I hope this was alright!

[the-curious-butterfly]

Merry UnBirthday to You.

My Dearest Daughter,

I am sending you this letter for it has been too long since I saw you last. Yes, I know you'll groan out how it's only been two months, but time moves rather quickly for an old Queen. Literally, I had to run just to keep up with him, perhaps I should stop going to his castle and have him come to mine if it's really so important. He has been going on and on about something rather odd concerning cupcakes and paradoxes lately, but I digress. The matters of Time are not for the concerns of youth.

What is of concern however is your birthday coming up next week. Oh, I've just been so excited I already had the frog and fish butlers start planning it despite not knowing if you'll even be able to attend. I do hope you can and will, you can even bring that little friend with you, the one you fancy so much. Chloe Charming. You know, Ella really knew what she was doing when she raised that girl, lives up to her name in every way. Unlike Charming himself, no matter what Ella claims he was all face, personality speaking he was a mess. I was definitely the better choice.

Ahem, I probably shouldn't have said that. Wait, oh quill, please don't write that either. Drat, I really should get into the habit of writing my own letters instead of dictating them out to stationary. You know how feathers are, no mind for things that really should be omitted. As straightforward and as honest as an ostrich. Please do not show this letter to Chloe, I would hate for her to know what I think of her father. He really was good to Ella.

Anyway, I'd love to hear back from you soon, with confirmation that you and the young Charming will indeed be capable of attending. Oh, it's going to be so much fun, and don't worry. I'll have something special planned for the two of you. You can always count on your mum.

With warm regards,

Bridget of Hearts

The proudest mum in the world to have you as a daught-

Wait, no no no you don't have to write that last par

Long after they finished reading it Red and Chloe, whose head was on her shoulder, could only stare at the letter in Red's hands. It was certainly a letter to say the least. Though what had both of them glued to its contents were vastly different things. For Chloe, it was the confirmation of seeing that Bridget did indeed once have a crush on her mother (perhaps still did) and harbored a mini grudge on her father for being the one she chose instead. Couldn't blame the Queen of Hearts for that though, her mother was a catch and deserved only the best. Even if her younger self was a little difficult to be around sometimes.

For Red it was learning the fact that she has a birthday now. Something she never had before since her mother from her original timeline outlawed them long before she was born. Though the letter didn't specify the day apparently it's in October, and also she's getting a party.

A party just to celebrate her existence. Something other children in other places got but she could only ever dream to have.

...

"Wow, I didn't know your birthday was so soon."

"I didn't either." There wasn't really much else to say but the truth, though if Chloe understood the nuance she didn't bring attention to it. "Should we ask Principal Uma for permission to leave?"

Red nods then shakes her head, finally folding up the letter but still holding onto it. "I don't know."

Which is fair so Chloe gives an understanding hum in response. "We'll have to find some way to figure out what day it is first, so you can think about it in the meantime. Just so that you know it's whatever you decide, Red, no one is going to make you."

Red wants to say she knows but "She's already planning it, Chloe, how am I supposed to say no."

"Of course she is, she's excited and she's missing you. But, I also know that the Bridget I remember would never hold it against you if you decided you couldn't show. She loves you too much."

Red wants that sentiment to mean something she really does, but the Bridget she remembers also managed to turn into the one they left behind.

"I'll give it some thought."

"Great, oh and Red."

"Yes, Chloe?"

Chloe takes one of Red's hands and brings to back of it up to her lips. "Happy Birthday, my princess."

This did indeed manage to bring a hint of a smile back to Red's face, just as Chloe had hoped for.

"In Wonderland it's Happy UnBirthday if it's not the right day. I really do have to find out what the right day is, so that you can do this again on the correct one."

"I'll do it every day for the rest of our lives if that's what it takes."

Clocks, that was so cheesy how was Red not supposed to shove her away.

[loveandleases]

Hey lovely! here's a prompt: "You deserve to be loved." between MC n Kara <3

i don't remember which prompt list this is from now! It got kinda angsty, well what can we do!? More below the cut~

"Why didn't you answer the phone?" Chris asks, their voice slightly robotic as they make their way through another tunnel. Headed somewhere for work with their father. "I told you Chris, I was helping-"

"I'm sure my dear sister realizes that you need to speak to your partner. Besides we need to move into our new place in a few weeks." Kara sighs, in part due to the last load of boxes she pushes along her new apartment floor. The other part...well she would rather not say. "Chris, I said I was sorry for taking MC. But I wouldn't have needed to if you warned me ahead of time that you would be moving in together." Kara gives you a soft smile as she stands to wipe the sweat from her brow. Your phone rests precariously on top of the boxes you carry into her new living room. "C'mon Kara, you knew MC and I were going to move in together eventually." Kara nods at that, she did know. It was inevitable with how the relationship between the two of them was progressing. As was an engagement. Which she knew would be fast approaching. She knew that and yet, at the same time knowing she had to move out of her shared apartment with Chris was still a shock. "Anyways," Chris clears their throat, catching your attention as you stack the boxes on top of the others on the ground. "I won't be in until late next Friday. So, I won't be able to make it to your birthday. I'll make it up to you, promise." Chris coos the last word. Though their honeyed promise did little as MC's shoulders slump, they had expected as much since Chris's father had promoted them to their new position. Yet it still stung to know another event would go by where they don't get to see their partner. But, it was for the greater good, the greater good being their future together. "Well you better bring me back something nice." Kara watches as you rub the spot between your neck and shoulder, a sigh escaping your lips as you stare at the ceiling. Trying to hide the hurt behind your eyes. She knew Chris cares about you, but it still made her feel uneasy when she noticed they were spending less time with you than they had previously. "I'll call you when I get there. Love you." Chris says, voice quick as you reply and hang up. Kara gives you a small smile, walking over to wrap an arm around your shoulders, "Lucky for you. I'll be here. I know just the way to celebrate a birthday." She ruffles your hair, as she grabs the phone and tosses it onto the counter. No more interruptions for the rest of the day if she could help it. "Thanks Kara, really. It's not too bad. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder right?" A look crosses her face, quickly to be covered with her sweet smile. One she uses to reassure you from time to time, no hidden meaning, no malice. "You know Mc, you deserve to be loved." Her words are almost a whisper as she looks you over. Her friend, someone she has come to care for. "Well, it's a good think I'm with Chris then isn't it?" She nods, "Yeah.." She meant the word, yet it still felt rough coming from her mouth. Unsure why, maybe the fact that she missed her sibling? Maybe the thought of Chris putting their work ahead of MC left a bitter taste in her mouth? Yet, Chris was doing this to better themself, and their life. That should make them happy. They would never hurt MC, Kara was sure of it.

[menagerlie]

WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS A WORM?

furina, lyney, & navia… if they became the worm. gn reader. headcanon format. short, trying to figure out tumblr. pt 1 maybe if i think it’s funny enough to add more characters.

FURINA:

she’s living like this now.

that’s it that’s the post.

i think she’d. leave before anyone had the chance to find her tbh, since she lives alone now... alternatively if it was before everything happened i fear she would just further become entertainment. hydro archon is a… worm ??? 😱😱😱 is this the purest form of water.

how much of worms are water

more than 75%.

they’re just like us fr… new conspiracy theory

we’re all worms.

anywayyyy

fontainians are so funny

would she be disappointed at the lack of mac and cheese? maybe. but in the aftermath of everything, she’s looking for simplicity, for reprieve and a way to enjoy life in the barest of forms. of course becoming a worm would be hard to get used to, but i think she could, fairly easily actually in the grand scheme of things. maybe it’s close enough to what she wants.

she’s been in a human body while playing the role of a god for 500 years. i think she could use a change

becoming a worm in this situation is sort of a metaphor for her situation actually. hehe. learning to live with such a modest, small existence after a lifetime of a lavish, celebrated, constantly watched one. and learning to love it— gunshot

after so long of pretending perhaps being a worm would allow her to shed her old skin and simply be.

i think she deserves it

anyway if you lived with her or visited her like every day, maybe she’d just like. curl up and wait. would probably be fairly particular about how she likes her . um. enclosure.

treat furm kindly or i will get you

:3c

as a wild worm, probably extra afraid of the water. panics in the rain. would be the first up if charmed.

like. worm charming. not. you know what i mean

ok so i’ve been enlightened. that is not why worms come up. ignore that

would wormtainians dissolve

erm. next.

oh yeah. if she’s able to turn back, she’d be happy and relieved of course, but i don’t think she’d be as upset about the experience as the others (except for the fact it may be a bit embarrassing, especially if you saw her). she’s lived a long time, she’s seen a lot, i think she’d appreciate the new perspective. even if it was. silly :3

LYNEY:

oh yeah. totally normal . wait. what

i think he’d magic pocket himself . he’d be safe in there for a bit . right

do you think worms could do card tricks.

do you think he could use his vision

worm. on fire.

anyway

i think he’d try and find out wtf happened and try to get himself to turn back first. if he couldn’t/needs help he’s going to try and find lynette first.

he’s silly to get loved ones’ attention. flips over. attempts to lift a card. rolls around

imagine he could change to a worm and back at will and used it in his shows

disappearing act . but what you don’t know is that there’s a tiny worm on the stage.

i keep getting distracted.

wonders what’s going on but thinks it’s funny at first. then it’s like. oh. oh!!

tries his best to figure out how to turn back. there’s panic there definitely, as any sane person would have, but i think it would especially set in after a little while — he starts thinking less about himself and more about his siblings, father, and you. will you know it’s him? he’s stripped of his capabilities, his tongue, his tricks. he was never a good fighter, but like this he is completely helpless.

if he can’t turn back, i think he’d want to stay w/ lynette at all times. sorry. she’s getting enclosure privileges . you can visit though

would a sentient worm be a funny addition to a magic show

could a worm gather intelligence..?

that would be funny

lynette just sets him down places to eavesdrop and he somehow idk recounts what he heard later

weaponized wormification

anyway. learns to live with it, especially if he’s able to stay near his siblings, though not as comfortably as the others

if he turns back he’s very relieved, a bit shaken. not because of really being a worm but just the helplessness that comes with losing your entire body and existence and what you deem useful about yourself . i think this goes for all of them, though

he’s okay

NAVIA:

president, leader, boss, commander-in-chief of the spina di rosula. my girl !!

you think anything’s changing??? nuh uh

get her some nice soil and a piece of paper with letters on it. congratulations . you’re her translator now.

my sister said wormija board im dying

anyway

might be a little shocked at first and wonder what’s going on, but ultimately i think she’d have fun being a worm if she knew she was going to turn back. she’s sillay like that. i loove her

i think first and foremost she’d try to get the attention of you or other loved ones. might stay close to something of hers if there isn’t a way to reach someone quickly, to try and signal that she’s. herselfff

but like she’s having fun. she’s enjoying it. unbothered queen

so wormquette !! :3c

in wormification angst land, she would mourn her human body but if there’s no way to get it back, she’s not going to let it stop her. she’s been through hardship before. she has overcome it before and she can do it again.

would be the best worm president, leader, boss, commander-in-chief to ever live. for sure

girlypop. she eats. she would slay . beauty and brains even in a worm body. :3

would not be that picky about living space tbh . might like some decorations and a nice place to sleep, though. i think she’d like it being watered! unlike someone.

unbothered. moisturized. happy. in her lane. focused. flourishing.

she’d enjoy sweet fruits in particular! worm version of baked goods.

considering the people she’s lost to being dissolved though, being wormified is kind of funny. like . similar situation (losing your body etc) but she’s still here

:3

hehe. fate

worm angst…

i’m silly

promise

[cozage]

The Moss that Grew in Gloom

Chapter 4: Celebrating the Little Things

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Summary: As the daughter of the best swordsman in the world, your life has been a lonely one. You've never minded the quiet life, until a mossy-haired swordsman falls to your island and shakes things up. Word Count: 1.3k Characters: female reader x Zoro

You decided to read for another hour before you risked venturing up to the third story. Based on a lifetime with your father, you knew it took him 15 minutes to get ready for bed, then 15 minutes to fall asleep. But you wanted to make sure he was in a deep sleep before you made any noise that might wake him. 

You crept past your fathers door and down the hall to Zoro’s new bedroom. You knocked softly on his door, trying your best not to disturb your father. He was a few rooms down, but he had always been a light sleeper. 

Zoro softly opened the door with a light creak, and you held up two bottles of wine and two glasses. “Celebration time!” You cheered quietly, raising the wine bottles in the air. 

Zoro frowned. “Just two?” he asked, looking at the bottles with disappointment. 

You rolled your eyes and sauntered past him into the room. You waited until his door had shut before you talked more freely. “We’re celebrating,” you hissed. “Not getting drunk off our ass!”

“Boring,” he said, but you could see a teasing smile dance across his lips. 

“Wanna make it a competition?” you asked, holding out a bottle to the swordsman. 

He raised an eyebrow as he took the bottle. “You’ll lose.”

You could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t bluffing. You didn’t doubt it either; you had seen him down alcohol at dinner. The substance barely affected him, even after several bottles. If it were a drinking contest, you were certain you’d lose miserably. 

“Not quite what you’re thinking,” you said. “Whoever can cut the cleanest cut across the bottle wins.”

Zoro laughed, turning the bottle over in his hand. He looked at the label, and you watched as his eyes practically popped out of their sockets when he saw the price tag. 

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You can’t risk wasting such good alcohol for a competition.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “Scared to lose?” you asked innocently. You could see irritation spring up in his expression from your taunting. “We don’t have bottle openers anyway. You’ll have to slice it open.”

“Why the hell don’t you have a bottle opener?!” He demanded, his voice rising.

“Shush!” you hissed. “I don’t want to wake the others! Unless you want to share.”

Zoro frowned, obviously not wanting to lose his celebratory bottle. 

You placed your bottle on the floor and held out Nikko, readying yourself to make the cut. Zoro did the same, looking at the bottle uneasily. 

“If anything, I’m at a disadvantage. The teeth on Nikko could shatter the entire bottle.”

Zoro scoffed. “If you break yours, I’m not sharing.”

You sliced at the bottle without another word, a perfect cut across the neck. You suppressed a smile. Your father had always said there was no point for bottle openers; if you were too sloppy to open a bottle with a sword, you didn’t deserve to drink its contents. 

Zoro went next. There was some slight hesitation in his movement, but he was strong and had a good grip on the sword. The cut was clean, though upon further examination, not perfect. 

You clicked your tongue. “I see an imperfection right here.” You shook your head. “I think that means I won.”

“Oh piss off!” Zoro grabbed his bottle from your critical gaze and took a long swig. 

You grabbed your own bottle and sat down on the floor, savoring the rich flavors of the wine. It had to be at least 20 years old. Your father always picked the best wine when he was away. 

“So, you’re going to be the best swordsman some day?” you asked, trying to make small talk. 

“I am.” He let out a deep sigh. “This is damn good wine.”

“Why do you want to be the best?” you asked, looking at him inquisitively. 

He bit his lip, waiting a moment before he responded. “I made a promise.”

You raised an eyebrow. “To your captain?”

“No.”

The shortness of his answer surprised you. “Then to who?” 

He gritted his teeth. “Can you stop with the questions?”

His irritation made your face burn, and you took a long drink of wine to cover it up. It had been a long time since you had constant interaction with another human being who wasn’t your father. 

Sure, you had gone on small missions, but you had never gotten to know anyone. You were usually killing people or sneaking around, finding the highest bounty pirates you could so you could return home with some money. 

Being with Zoro was nothing like that. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I just don’t like talking about it.”

“That’s okay,” you said quietly, taking another drink.

“What about you?” Zoro asked. “Don’t you want to be the best?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I just want to be good enough to survive in the outside world.”

Zoro gave a dry laugh. “Trust me sweetheart, you’d be one of the best anywhere on the Grand Line.”

His compliment made your face flush again, and a heavy silence fell between you two. You weren’t sure how to tell him that even if you wanted to leave the island, you had nowhere to go. You could survive on the Grand Line, but you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to do if you left Gloom Island. You had no idea who you wanted to be. 

“Thanks again for today,” Zoro said, finally bringing you back from your thoughts. 

You waved him off. “It was nothing.”

“It was everything,” he said, looking in your eyes. 

You weren’t sure when he had gotten so close to you. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You tried to blink a few times to clear your head, but your thoughts grew cloudy again the moment you looked at his slate-gray eyes. The wine must’ve gone to your head faster than you anticipated.

You weren’t sure why, but the alarm bells in your brain were ringing. Dangerous territory. You shouldn’t be here with him. Your father’s enemy. The one who would bring him down. You shouldn’t have come here. And yet all you wanted to do was move closer. 

You finally found the words you were looking for, and they came out in a whisper. “Whenever you need help, just let me know.”

He gave a small smile. “Tomorrow then. You’ll help me infuse the haki into my sword?”

You scowled, pulling back from him and taking a drink of wine. “You’re at least a month away from trying that, Roronoa.”

“I have a good teacher.”

You gave a light chuckle, finishing off the last of your wine and setting the bottle down. “That’s why I gave you a month.”

“Call me Zoro.” He set down his bottle and shook his head. “No need for the honorifics if you’re going to be training me.”

You weren’t sure why it mattered, but you nodded. 

Your body felt heavy, the wine coursing through your bloodstream. You needed to get to bed before you started feeling the negative effects of the alcohol. You stood to your feet, heading for the door, swaying much more than you intended to. 

“Let me walk you back to your room.”

You snorted. “You’d get hopelessly lost if you tried that.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I think I can find my way back to my room.”

“I don’t!” you barked out another laugh, the wine amplifying your giddiness. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You could feel his eyes on you as you opened the door, and you turned back to him one last time. “Goodnight, Roronoa Zoro.”

His eyes bore into your soul as he said, “Goodnight.”

You could feel his gaze on you as you gave him one last smile. You could feel him staring at you, even as you quietly shut his door. And you could’ve sworn his eyes followed you all the way back to your room, until you fell into your bed and promptly fell asleep for the night. 

[agendabymooner]

the leclerc daycare || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

EXTENTION TO OF LONG LINES AND NAMES

Summary: Charles Leclerc was a father first and a driver second. So maybe being left alone with Hervé, Jules and PJ for the night wouldn't be much of an issue. OR Aimee Leclerc travelled with her sisters and Charles got a firsthand experience of watching his kids by himself (alongside his kids’ uncles Esteban and Pierre).

Content warning: dad!Charles centric, fatherhood, mentions of pregnancy, dad!F1 Drivers x OFCs appearance (Hearth sisters!OFCs), Uncle Estie and Uncle Pierre, doubts of being a good parent, shitty French translations by Apple, wtf is beta reading

Note: Dad Charles, Dad Charles, Dad Charles content enjoy xx

masterlist

Aimee and her sisters were known for being extroverts with introverted tendencies. They communicated with anyone who’d approach them and more often than not, would keep in contact with them in case of any business. 

They didn’t like hanging out with them, as much though. Not as much as they preferred being around their sisters. Aimee, especially, didn’t enjoy being around new people— not as often as any other person would. She would much rather be around her sisters or her husband and his mates. Having three kids, with another two on the way, did something about her interest in socializing with other people. It was fairly limited before until she began attending playdates or programs for toddlers that allowed her children to make friends with others — interacting with parents was common. 

Regardless, going out for two days was different — especially when her sister, Sylvie, was wanting to celebrate her engagement before she gets married in a month. Much like the other two sisters, they preferred a day out without any friends. Just the four of them, chatting each other’s ears off. Aimee Leclerc was alright with that.

“Je ne veux pas que maman parte!” I don’t want Mummy to leave. 

The littles, though, weren’t alright with that. Jules cried his eyes out the moment he saw Aimee dressed in some satin dress. She had a weekender bag next to her vanity, the boy picking up on the fact that his mother was leaving. 

It was Charles’ week off before the next race, and rather than going to Maranello, he deliberately made the choice to stay at home and do his sim practices instead. After all, Aimee had been at home for weeks rather than traveling with McLaren during the races due to her pregnancy. The wonders of having remote work, right? 

“J,” Charles shushed his son softly, playing with the soft curls of his mini’s hair. Jules continued to cry as he wrapped his arms around Charles’ neck. “Maman n'est pas sortie pour s'amuser. Ne pensez-vous pas qu'elle mérite de s'amuser?” Mummy hasn’t gone out to have fun. Don’t you think she deserved to have fun? 

Then another little babbling came along as Hervé clung to Charles’ leg. “Elle peut s'amuser ici. Papa dit à maman qu'elle peut s'amuser ici!” She can have fun here. Daddy, tell Mummy she can have fun here. Hervé cried too, sobbing as they stood in front of the shut bathroom door. 

Aimee put down her mascara and sighed quietly. How the heck was she going to go if her sons were crying like this? The only reason why she’d managed to be roped into nights off before was because Pascale Leclerc had managed to kick her and Charles out of the house before. The boys loved their Mamé and their uncles. 

Pascale wouldn’t see them until this afternoon and their uncles were definitely not going to go until they got back from work. It was only 6:45 in the morning. 

How the hell were Hervé and Jules awake at this time, anyway? They liked to sleep, so how they managed to get the hell out of their bedroom at this time of the day was a mystery.

Aimee then remembered what her sister said. Intuition. Aimee was the same back when her sister was eighteen and heading to university in the morning. Two year old Aimee would wake up just to say good morning then dash off to have breakfast with the other sisters. So maybe her twins had the kind of intuition when someone’s leaving. 

She didn’t think that their reaction would be like this in the morning. 

“Oui, but my littles,” Charles crouched down to speak to both his kids, “do you know how Papa’s been working a lot and Maman has been home to have fun with you?” 

Hervé and Jules sniffled, but nodded nonetheless. Charles continued, “Papa has fun at work, but it’s Papa’s time to have time with you. Maman deserves to see what’s out there that she can have fun with.”

“We can go out to have fun with Maman!” Hervé cried out, protesting against Charles’ proposal. 

“Maman will go somewhere littles can’t go,” Charles told the boys. “How about we have some breakfast and make sure the babies are eating too before Maman goes, hm? Make some breakfast so Maman will be happy and be full of your looove by making her food?” 

“Maman sera-t-elle heureuse si nous lui faisons à manger?” Will Mummy be happy if we make her food? Jules asked, the two of them no longer crying. Thank god for that otherwise PJ, their two year old brother, would see it and somehow make himself comfortable at the tear train. 

Charles grinned at his boys and nodded, “Oui. Maybe we can make her some chicken and waffles— last I heard, the babies want some chicken.” 

Jules wiped his tears away and exclaimed, “Okay! I help, Papa! Herb! Come!” Then ran off the couple’s bedroom, his twin brother hot on his heels as Hervé dashed off. 

Charles watched the boys run out and winced, hoping PJ wouldn’t wake up to the loud footsteps made by the older kids as he slumped against the wall by the bathroom. 

The door swung open next to him, making him look as Aimee stepped out with a sheepish smile. He approached her carefully and wrapped his arms around her, his hands trailing down the protrusion of her stomach as he sighed, “I hope these two wouldn’t be that much trouble to handle.” 

“Hmm,” Aimee hummed happily, taking his hand to kiss the palm of it. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” 

Charles scoffed as if Aimee was questioning his superman abilities to stay sane. “I’ve been driving a Ferrari for god knows how long,” he joked, kissing her temple as his other hand continued to caress her stomach. “I’ve gone way past my sanity line. Don’t worry about the three, oui?” 

“I’m not worried about your minis,” Aimee giggled, “I’m more worried about you. You’re most likely to go mad once you realize PJ likes a little bit of mischief with Herb and J.” 

“As I said,” Charles rolled his eyes, peering down at her as he continued, “I’m no longer sane. I think I’ll be able to find composure.” 

The breakfast definitely DID NOT show all of that. Because by the time Charles reached the kitchen, an egg was already cracked open on the floor. Not only that, but Hervé and Jules’ tanned faces (alongside their jammies) were covered in waffle mix after they’ve both dropped the bag of mix on the floor. 

But their breakfast wasn’t that much of a disaster, to say the least. In between Aimee’s cooking and the boys’ morning shower, they somehow managed to find some time to eat breakfast. PJ had already woken up when Charles’ voice turned loud enough at the shock just as he stepped into the kitchen. Trying to get him to eat his fruits wasn’t as difficult. He was angelic of all the Leclercs that both Pascale and Aimee had given birth to. 

“C’mon, mon chou, last one for Daddy,” Charles opened his mouth wide, trying to get PJ to mimic the action. PJ followed his father, his mouth opening as Charles made airplane noises, his hand twirling around while it held a slice of banana stabbed into a silicone fork. It didn’t take long for the food to land on the toddler’s mouth as he kicked his feet in enthusiasm. 

“Tu vois? C'est de la bonne nourriture, n'est-ce pas?” See? It’s good food, don’t you think so? Charles asked his youngest, making the boy nod. “Good boy, PJ.” 

Charles turned to look at his twins, who both stood on their two step stools next to their mother as they watched Aimee wash their dishes. Aimee was apparently teaching them how to do their dishes as she said, “Then when it’s clean, you just put it right here.” 

“What’s this called, Maman?” Hervé pointed at the display next to the sink. 

“It’s a dish rack,” Aimee replied.

“Rack? What does the rack do?” Jules asked, his curious voice making Charles grin to himself. His boys were quite inquisitive about anything. Whenever they’re out, Hervé could point at something and ask. Jules would often follow after Hervé asked. 

And it wasn’t anything worrying. Charles and Aimee loved it when they asked a lot, because they had a lot to answer. It’s always a joy to answer their children’s curiosities. 

“That’s where you leave the plates after cleaning them,” Aimee answered, now drying her hands on the towel. “It’s to make sure they dry. You don’t eat on wet plates do you?” 

“Yuck,” Hervé and Jules pulled a face. “No wet food!” 

“Exactly,” Aimee grinned, looking up to see Charles staring at her and their kids lovingly. She then asked, “Are you enjoying your time staring, love?” 

Charles shook himself out of his thoughts and said, “Yeah. Mr. Sacha is done with his breakfast too.” 

“Oh? He finished it?” Aimee peered down at PJ, “how did you like it, my little bug?” 

Aimee didn’t like that nickname at first. PJ had only earned that nickname after everyone learned that she’d gotten more sick with him than she did with the twins, and Esteban joked that her baby was a literal stomach bug. But after some convincing (with the help of Esteban and Mick, dressing PJ as a grasshopper for his first halloween), Aimee finally caved in. PJ was her little bug.

“Little bug loved it well,” Charles grinned, lifting PJ out of his high chair and grabbed the empty plate. He placed down the dirty dish into the sink as Hervé and Jules’ eyes gleamed in excitement. “Boys, let Papa do it later. Maman’s going soon. Who’s coming to pick you up again?” 

“All three of them, once that Tils’ picked up Stevie and Sylv.”

“Oh,” he replied, “so is anybody dropping off their car to use yours or…” 

“No,” Aimee scoffed. “No one’s touching any of my cars. You are using the SUV, no?”

“That’s kinda assumed already,” Charles replied, “I just thought you’d use your… actually never mind.”

While their family expanded largely over the past few years, their garage did too. Much like her sisters, Aimee had a collection of cats hidden away to avoid being burglarized. Everyone knew about Charles’ custom Pista and the family SUV that they had — an Aston Martin. But they didn’t seem as phased as they were when they found out that Aimee had a vintage Mini Cooper and a coated copper McLaren 765LT hidden somewhere in their family home.

So really… Charles assumed that they’d borrow either one of their hidden gems for the trip as Aimee’s Cooper was often used than Stevie’s military green LaFerrari or Sylvie’s orange Cadillac. 

“The poor Cooper’s been treated like a bus for the past few months,” Aimee snorted. “You know I wouldn’t allow them to drive it either.” 

The ring on the doorbell had woken up something within the twins as they both squealed and bolted to the door, leaving Charles to yell, “Boys, don’t open the door without— damn it!” 

“Charles!” “Sorry! No swearing!”

He then returned to the dining area with Hervé being carried by Aimee’s eldest sister Tilly and Jules with Sylvie. Stevie followed behind as they greeted Aimee, “Morning, Aims! Excited for a good two day vacation?” 

“Oh am I ever,” Aimee rolled her eyes, gesturing at her husband, “he’s a different story.” 

Sylvie raised a brow and spoke amusedly, “You having fun yet, Charles?”

“I am,” Charles waved off Sylvie’s joking tone, “I’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t worry you’ll be fine,” Stevie chuckled, “even Lewis is running a daycare at home.” 

“Aun’ ‘Teve,” PJ toddled his way towards Stevie and tugged on her trousers, “L’land?” 

Stevie peered down at her little nephew — who was the same age as her youngest, Leland, and cooed, “Leland is at home with Uncle Lew and Lotlot, little bug. Maybe you’ll see him sometime today.” 

“Ah speaking of,” Tilly started, looking at Charles now as she said, “I think Lewis and Toto are planning to take the kids out today for the… indoor playground cafe. I’m sure they’ll be happy to have more kids and an extra pair of hands to come along.” 

“Oh nice, more kids,” Charles’ face didn’t even show how nice the thought was. 

“Good luck taking care of eight kids lads,” Sylvie winked, huffing out a laugh after Aimee nudged her a little bit too hard. “I’d offer Max but he isn’t here. I’m sure Arthur and Lorenzo would be more than happy to help!” 

That was a lie. Maybe Lorenzo would help a lot, but Arthur… Now Arthur was a good uncle, but he often leaned more into the chill uncle side than the kind who would somehow watch his words around the kids.

And so when the Leclerc boys saw the matriarch off to Stevie’s Bentayga (while Charles continued to remind his wife’s sisters that she was pregnant — practically warning them not to be stupid about driving), he immediately pulled his phone out to text the only people who’d be more than willing to go less sane with the kids.

Charles: Are you up for some insanity? Aimee’s out for today to tomorrow afternoon.

Esteban: What’s in it for me?

Pierre: He just said insanity.

Pierre: I hope you have enough room in your AM.

Charles: Fuck. I guess I’m taking out the Cadillac.

Charles: Will anyone help me take them out of the garage and help me move the boys’ seats to the other SUV?

Esteban: 👍

Pierre: 👌

Esteban Ocon showed up an hour earlier than Pierre did. When he did, he brought along a small gym bag full of his overnight clothes. Alongside his clothes were boxes of Spider-Man figures. Not everyday Esteban got to share his love for Marvel to anyone, and he could help but jump at the chance to introduce No Way Home to the Leclerc boys.

Now, he was in the kitchen, teaching the Leclerc littles how to operate the oven as they baked some chocolate chip cookie dough that they found in the deep depths of the freezer. Perhaps it was a bad idea to have Esteban come over, because he was prone to ruining their diets with his love for pastries. 

It was quarter to ten when Pierre finally arrived, with his own overnight bag and… a pile of children’s books? Charles wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right, but then the Frenchman pulled up a pop-up book version of Dr. Seuss from the pile as Charles groaned quietly. 

“Ils ont déjà beaucoup de livres, Pierre,” they already have a lot of books, Pierre. Charles told the man when he raised a brow.

“It never hurts for more,” Pierre shrugged, “how did you think PJ learned to speak a lot at this age? He won’t be chatty if it wasn’t for his Oncle P.” 

“You only started to get them books because you don’t know how baby sizes work,” Charles told him with a roll of his eyes, shutting the door behind Pierre as they both walked towards the living room.

Charles raised his brow when Pierre settled his bag down on the couch, leaving Pierre to say, “I’d head up to the guest room but I want to see the boys first,” there was a moment of silence between the two of them and in the background played the boys’ daily phonics songs. “Sick beats, by the way.” 

The pair headed off to the kitchen, where they found Hervé, Jules and PJ chatting away with their Uncle Estie. The last conversation Charles heard was about the track in Canadian GP, with Hervé saying “The turn there— what is that? Pin? Papa says is pin! It’s wooooosh~ woah, it’s so small, Oncle E!” 

“Sharp,” Estie’s signature grin returned to his face as he corrected the boy gently, “the hairpin is sharp, Herb.”

“‘Airpin?” Jules’ head cocked to the side, “I hear my cousin Tia say that!” 

“Because that’s what they use for long hairs,” Esteban replied. 

“What? All talks, no love for Oncle P?” The three toddlers turned towards the direction of the voice as they grinned widely. PJ, thank god for Charles’ reflex, had jumped off the kitchen island and ran towards his namesake. Pierre Gasly nearly tipped over at the suddenly thud on his legs as he grunted, lifting PJ up to his arms as he hugged the boy tight. “Good morning, Little P! How’s my handsome boy doing?” 

“Good, Oncle P!” PJ grinned. “Maman est partie!” Mummy left!

The enthusiasm in his tone broke Charles out of his trance as he laughed. “Sacha, why do you sound happy about Maman leaving?”

“Because she has fun!” Jules reasoned out on behalf of his brother, making PJ nodded eagerly.

And while the two were celebrating the thought, Charles looked at Hervé as he began sobbing quietly. Esteban’s eyes widened, not knowing how to react as the boy began wailing. Tears endlessly flowed out of Hervé’s eyes as he covered them with his forearm. 

“Oh no,” Charles sighed quietly. Esteban quickly recovered from shock and immediately lifted Hervé off the counter, allowing the boy to soak his shirt with his tears. 

Out of the three boys, Hervé was the only one who took the information to heart. The Leclerc kids were loved by both Aimee and Charles — but Hervé, out of the three, loved Aimee more than anything. He often clung to her like a koala on a tree, and when they’re out and about — Hervé would often hold hands with her more than he would with his Papa. It wasn’t a shock that Charles would witness his eldest cry at the absence of his Maman. 

Jules, who was sitting on the counter, stood on the marble surface and reached up to pat his twin on the back carefully. He then said, “t’s okay, Herb!” He wasn’t even sure if Hervé could hear him, but all Jules seemed to care about was comforting his brother.

“Are you sad because Maman’s gone for the day?” Esteban asked, and all he got was a nod in his neck. That, and maybe a wet patch of tears on his neck now. “Okay, okay. Is there anything Papa or your uncles can help you with that can make you feel better.”

“Maman—“ Hervé stuttered, still crying in Estie’s arms.

“Yeah, but Maman’s not here, H,” Estie replied. “What if you show us what can help you feel better? Or do you want Oncle E to help?” 

Hervé’s reddened face looked up at Esteban and nodded. “Yeah? You want me to help? Or everyone?” 

“I know!” Jules jumped, making Charles reach close to his son with a mutter of ‘Careful, J.’ 

Hervé turned to his twin as Jules exclaimed, “Princess and Frog!” 

“T’ana!” PJ squealed aloud. Hervé’s eyes brightened, all thanks to the suggestion that his brothers proposed not to his tears. Hervé nodded before he wiped his tears away and asked Estie to put him down, to which the man obliged as Charles helped Jules hop off the counter and led the Leclerc littles to the family room. 

The adults look at each other. “There will be a lot of that,” Charles smiled meekly. 

“Not a bother,” Esteban waved off with a chuckle.

“I need to put my bags upstairs,” Pierre nudged Charles lightly. “Before craziness even begins.”

The oven goes off at the same time, leaving Esteban to turn away and return to the kitchen as he said, “I’ll leave this to cool off. You need help moving cars, you said?” 

“Yes please,” Charles replied, following his boys to the living room as they navigated through the Disney app. 

He then heard Estie say, “Can I drive her Mc—“

“I can’t let you drive the McLaren, sorry,” Charles interrupted Estie before he could continue on.

Charles: Hey! Are you and Toto still taking the kids out today? 

Lewis: Hey Charles! Yeah we’re taking them out today. If we’re gonna get heart attacks we can at least do it together. You in? 

Charles: Pierre and Estie would come along, if you don’t mind? 

Lewis: Five against eight? We’re still outnumbered. But yea, of course! 

Charles: Haha!

One of the joys of having children was the opportunity to dress them. The same could be said for Charles. They always said that it was hard having to dress boys, and while that remained true, it didn’t discourage the Ferrari driver from dressing his boys up whether they’re going out or heading to bed. 

He could admit that he couldn’t dress for shit, but it didn’t mean that he’d do the same to his kids. 

Neither he and Aimee believed that Jules and Hervé should be dressed the same whenever they’re out because they were twins. In fact, they thought that it would be a bit too confusing for them. At the very beginning of their lives, they were always dressed differently. 

The same could be said for today. Hervé was dressed in a Ralph Lauren denim button up and some denim shorts, his hair tied loosely to a bun to avoid his soft curls getting in the way of his face. 

Jules, however, was dressed in a white tee (with the infamous Burberry pattern sewn as a pocket) and khaki shorts while his hair was merely brushed back. Esteban Ocon was quite proud of his work of art. 

Sacha Leclerc, or PJ, had opted for a soft pink shirt with the Ralph Lauren polo logo on its left chest and some denim shorts with Mickey Mouse embroidered all over the place. He beamed at his Oncle P proudly, immensely proud of his decision to dress like this. Pierre Gasly merely high fived him, proud of his godchild for no reason. He was just proud. 

No one was prouder than Pascale Leclerc, though. Just as her hair salon opened and the boys (and the men) took a ten minute trip there, she gasped at the sight of her grandchildren. 

“Oh mon! Qui sont ces beaux garçons ? S'agit-il de mes petits-enfants?” Oh my! Who are these handsome boys? Are these my grandchildren? Pascale squealed, excusing herself from her receptionist as she knelt down to get on the level of the toddlers. “You three are always soooo handsome! Did Papa dress you?” 

Esteban and Pierre cackled on the side, leaving Charles to look at his mother with an unamused expression. Pascale giggled. It was a running joke in the family that Charles was shit at dressing himself, and when Aimee got married into the family it got even worse — with Arthur starting the chaos with, “Can you believe that, Charles? Two models for sisters-in-law and another who worked for Vogue and you’re still dressed like this?” 

“I sure hope not,” Pierre continued behind Charles, leaving the Monegasque to kick his best friend.

“I did!” Jules grinned proudly. “I dress up myself, Mamé!” 

“I did too!” Hervé raised his hand, catching the attention of his grandmother. PJ babbled along and told her that he too had dressed himself. 

“Wow! Such big boys, you are!” Pascale exclaimed, pulling out her phone to stand up. “Can you smile big for Mamé? Say cheese.”

“Cheeseeee~” the three grinned heavily as Pascale took a photo of the three. Typing for a good second, she finally put her phone away and looked at Charles and his fellow grid mates. 

“I sent it to Aimee’s mothers,” Pascale explained herself as the men nodded.

“What are you up to today?” Pascale asked. “I heard the girls are out for today and tomorrow?” 

“They’re going to stay in Cannes for the day,” Charles replied before leaning towards his mother and whispered, “Hervé cried twice today, Maman and I’m worried he’s not going to sleep tonight because Aimee’s not here.”

Pascale let out a quick snort and shrugged it off, “Yes he would,” she reassured him with a pat on the head. “He managed to sleep well when you two were out for the weekend.” 

“But that’s with you, Maman,” Charles looked back to find Esteban and Pierre preoccupied with the kids as he continued, “What if the three of them won’t settle because I haven’t been around them for too long and I haven’t put them to bed before? Hervé cried because of his Maman. He sees Aimee more than he does me so—“

“Charles, pause,” Pascale grabbed her son on both of his shoulders and shook him out of his thoughts. “Take a deep breath.” The middle Leclerc man obliged, heaving a deep sigh as his mother told him, “He won’t make things hard for you, Charles. He’s not crying because he likes Aimee more than you, but it’s only because he’s going to have to adjust for tonight. Kids, when they’re outside their routine, act differently when they have to follow a new one — so he’s not acting like that because you’re the one who’s with him tonight.” 

“Hervé loves you, Charles,” Pascale told him softly. “With how he proudly wears your number on his shirt and his jackets, and how he brags about his Papa in the red car, I think I can say that he loves you so much. He will never ever make things hard for you with Aimee not being here for today— or for all those times she wouldn’t be there. So, don’t worry about it. Just don’t make things hard for him either. Try to make sure he’s comfortable with adjusting his routine. Make sure that your children are feeling comfortable with the thought of doing things differently than usual.” 

Charles glanced back at his kids, the pressure on his shoulders long gone as he nodded at Pascale. “Merci, Maman.” 

“Yeah of course,” Pascale giggled quietly. “I’ve always wondered the same when your father was gone. Look where I am now. Look at where you are now. The boys just need to adjust a little, Charles. Just make sure you’re there to guide them if needed.” 

Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff were rarely at Monaco, these days. 

After Lewis retired, he thought of selling his house in Monaco. Being a father was what he wanted and clearly, while he was still fit for a celebrity lifestyle he resorted to being a quiet and reserved man. His 5-acre estate in Warwickshire showed something of serenity, their home surrounded by nothing but woods and a river nearby. He was content with being at home with his children while his wife Stevie continued to work as a model and Ferrari’s communications director. He preferred the quiet while he taught his daughter phonemes, and it was clear to everyone he abandoned his flat in Monaco. Now the flat served as his vacation home whenever his family would go on a holiday and see their cousins. 

The same goes to Toto. He hadn’t retired as a team principal yet, but his Monaco place no longer held the same value as his estate in Brackley. One of his kids was already eleven (already in year nine) and playing in his school’s association football team and the other (nine years old) had been entering karting tournaments around England almost every weekend. He once told Charles about his estate and how he had it purchased and renovated long before his eldest son with Tilly even existed — how well he valued his home there and wouldn’t exchange it for Monaco or Austria. Much like Lewis, he was content with his home there, and it didn’t help that the Mercedes factory was only a few minutes away from his home. Toto expressed his interest in selling his house in Monaco once that his vintage Mercedes was moved back to Brackley, but then his nephews were born (and were planned to be raised in Monaco). He then decided that it was a home to go to whenever his kids wanted to see the Leclerc kids — their cousins. 

So after everyone started talking about Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff no longer residing in Monaco and their rare appearance in the streets of the principality, it never came as a shock to anyone anymore. It was still rare, but it was expected. 

But the sight of the two, alongside the three current drivers that just sat along the older ones, would be considered hilarious and extra special for the fans. Because not everyday you get to see two Mercedes personnel casually hanging out with a Ferrari driver and two Alpine drivers. At least, not with the two Alpine drivers while they all sat on a cozy indoor playground and cafe in Monte-Carlo. It wasn’t everyday you get to see Toto Wolff and the drivers talk about the racing season while they all sip on some silly cat and animal-themed cups with their kids running amuck in the playing area. 

Toto’s two older kids were somewhere else, and Charles could only assume that they were at the football area. None of his kids were crying yet, and so he sat there relaxed as he listened to whatever Lewis was talking about. 

“Did you really allow Aimee to go with the girls?” Lewis asked Charles, making the Monegasque nod. “You could’ve said no, that way they’re just stuck here in Monaco.”

“She’ll be fine,” Charles was beginning to think that he was only saying those words to reassure himself, not others. “She hasn’t been out for a while.”

“They still could have found something here,” Lewis pointed out.

Charles rolled his eyes, “That’s true. But Aimee lives here, she knows every curb to avoid and I don’t think I don’t want to bore her to death.” 

“Besides,” Charles shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t want her to think I’m trying to lock her up by making her stay in Monaco all the time.”

“She’s your wife,” Pierre brought up.

“She’s my boys’ Maman, but she’s also been working her ass off trying to keep them happy while I’m gone someplace else,” Charles couldn’t find himself to argue, only telling them what the men needed to hear, “the least I can do is to let her travel the same way I do almost every week.”

“She loves the boys, that’s why her work in McLaren’s now remote,” Toto nodded, reaching on his pastel donut cat cup as he sipped on his tea, “I appreciate you for recognizing that.” 

“It’s the only thing I can do besides spend my time with the kids,” Charles replied, looking around to find his kids as Hervé came dashing and jumping into the ball pit of the soft play area. Hervé’s head popped up from the ball pit as he grinned, finding his father watching as he waved enthusiastically. Charles grinned and waved back before he turned back to the men, “I don’t think I’ll ever regret spending my time with them. If anything, I regret leaving Aimee behind while I go away to race. Lessens my time with the boys.” 

TWO MERCEDES, A FERRARI AND TWO ALPINES WALK INTO A CAFE: The Popular Fathers of F1 were seen on some Father-Children day out in Monte-Carlo.

“Hamilton, Leclerc and Wolff = Fathers of the Year? PLUS, a surprise appearance of Uncles Esteban Ocon and Pierre Gasly included in this article!” 

THE MONTE-CARLO DADDY DAYCARE: These might be the best photos taken of Lewis Hamilton, Toto Wolff and Charles Leclerc yet!

“Where’s Max Verstappen? Oh, and HI ESTIE BESTIE AND PEAR!” 

THE HEARTH HUSBANDS: How Toto Wolff, Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc made the best husband materials ever through these photos.

“Max Verstappen, maybe it’s your time to shine, too!”

Aimee: I’m gonna go to sleep now but omg those photos of you and the other two are so funny haha!!! I’ll talk to you more about it tomorrow, but the babies wanted to say goodnight my love :)

Charles: I’ll tell you so much about the boys’ playdate tomorrow. Sleep well, mon cœur ❤️

Aimee: Give them kisses for me?

Charles: Already did for you. Now sleep.

Aimee: Sleep well, my love 

“Papa?” At first, Charles wanted to fall back asleep at the sound. He thought that he was just dreaming. His dream was literally just about baking those cookies— and with the call of Papa he assumed that he was just being called by the boys from the living room. 

Then he felt a small soft hand on his cheek, making his eyes open slowly as he witnessed his three sons standing there. He sat himself up a little, stretching as he asked, “H, Jules? PJ? What’re you boys doing up?” 

“Nous ne pouvons pas dormir parce que maman ne nous a pas embrassés,” we can’t sleep because Mummy didn’t give us a hug. Jules said as quietly as he could, swinging his body back and forth while he clung onto his Lotso bear. 

PJ pulled his hand back from holding Charles’ face as he meekly stood there, still sucking on the pacifier. 

Hervé nodded at Jules’ comment and sheepishly asked, “Can we sleep here, Papa?”

PJ pulled the pacifier off and added, “Pwease?” 

Charles shook himself out of his thoughts. He was still feeling a bit hazy after being woken up by his kids at… two in the morning. These kids really have a bad habit of waking up in the most inconvenient time. 

But just as he was looking down at his kids, who still stood at his side of the bed, he couldn’t help but smile softly. He might not be Aimee to make them feel comfortable enough to go to sleep after being given a hug, but the least he could do was be there for them. 

Looking back at today’s events, he seemed to be content with the result of his plans and his kids’ reaction towards it. Sure, Hervé might’ve cried for the first three hours, but he soon got comfortable at the thought of spending time with his Papa while Aimee was somewhere else and away from them. PJ proudly dressed himself up and decided what to wear by himself. Jules comforted Hervé when his twin got sad. He was nothing but proud of his boys. He was hella proud of himself.

And he loved his boys so much that he couldn’t deny them anything. Now that he thought of it, it was even harder to deny them anything because Aimee wasn’t here. He was just happy they hadn’t asked for sugar before bed. 

He grinned at his boys and patted the empty spot next to him, hoisting PJ up while he said, “Alright. Up we go then, boys. Let’s go get some good sleep.”

It’s safe to say that the Leclerc daycare went well today. That was a major achievement for Charles. Thank god for his mother and other peer support, right?

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Cloudy Christmastime

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Before anyone protests, I headcanon the Wayne family as celebrating both Jewish holidays like Yom Kippur and Hanukkah as well as Christmas and Easter because yes, Bruce is ethnically Jewish (though may have done Christmas as well) but Dick/Jason/Tim/Steph would have likely celebrated Christmas. So they do both.

Anyway, this is a christmas gift for @glorified-red and literally the 5th take on this fic bc they first said Hallmark movie, then damijon hallmark movie, then whump. And then it took me three tries to get something I was close to happy with so I hope you enjoy. This ended up being a mix of domestic fluff and h/c.

warnings: sensory overload

wc: ~2600

~~

“Tell me again why Santa doesn’t bring us gifts if he’s real. Like our dads have met him. And he still doesn’t bring us presents,” Jon lamented from the couch, bundled up in four blankets. 

From your spot on the floor by the tree, you looked up, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Because we’re not kids anymore? And how do you know Santa ever brought us gifts?” 

“Perhaps,” Damian added, passing Jon a cup of hot chocolate. He placed a second cup on the coffee table and lifted one to his lips. “He only brought gifts to people to make a point. I never received any from him as a child but father has gotten many over the years.” 

Jon listed to the side, head landing on Damian’s shoulder. “I think that’s worse.”

For the first time in a while, Jon felt Damian’s huff of laughter more than he heard it. Your small chuckle was similarly inaudible. Jon hated solar flaring. Not only was it a pain to deal with for the day and change—one could argue he got either lucky or really unlucky by solar flaring the morning of Christmas Eve—but it always threw his senses out of whack as they trickled back in. And, with the gray skies of Gotham’s winter, Jon was expecting it to be even weirder than usual. It was worth it though, to him, in order to spend the day itself with his partners. It was enough that the Kent family Christmas Eve was ruined by Lex Luthor. He wasn’t going to let his Christmas day be ruined too. 

“I’m sorry, mi sol,” you offered with a shrug and a smile. Jon met your grin with his own. A full-body shiver wracked his frame. Your gaze turned concerned. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “Just chilly.” Damian’s arm wrapped further around Jon, pulling their sides flush against each other. Jon maneuvered the blankets away to soak in his warmth. 

“Ameli, we can turn the heat up,” Damian offered. 

“Nope,” Jon argued, nuzzling into Damian’s neck. “This is good.” Damian’s resulting huff of air teased at the hair on the top of Jon’s head. 

“Mi luna?” You asked from the floor. Damian turned to look at you. Jon followed, eyes traveling over the mound of presents arranged under the tree. There was a pile around the back of the tree against the wall for Damian’s family (Jon still needed to give Dick his gift from the Hanukkah celebration a couple weeks ago. The blue dreidel paper was obvious against the sea of brown, red, and green wrapping paper.), and a smaller one for yours. The empty gap left behind after the Kent Christmas was already filled in with a large box Jon was like ninety percent sure was a new easel for Damian. You ordered it, not him, but Jon couldn’t think of anything else on any of your lists that was even close to that size. “Can you hand me that please?” You gestured to a precarious stack on the coffee table. 

Damian acquiesced, passing over a teetering pile of vaguely book-shaped items. Who those were for was anyone’s guess. Jon was grateful Alfred had helped you and him pay for some of the gifts for Damian. Looking at the gift tags, it otherwise would have been horribly uneven. And Damian himself wouldn’t have minded, Jon knew, but you and him would have been upset about it anyway. He deserves the world, your rohi. Damian pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you, still arranging presents under the tree. He showed it quickly to Jon before texting it to him immediately. 

“This look okay?” You asked, peeking out from behind the tree. Jon looked it over. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but he also wasn’t exactly the reigning opinion on artistic presentation. 

“It looks fine, hayati” Damian said, eyes still trained on his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“You didn't even look.” 

Damian turned to look at you. “Because I knew it looked fine, beloved.” His eyes scanned the presents. “And it does.” 

You shook your head at him, exasperated, before conceding and sitting heavily on the couch. Scooching in, you nearly pressed up against Jon’s other side. 

“Come closer,” He whined, untangling a hand from the blankets to grab yours. “You’re warm.” 

Jon could feel the look exchanged over his head. 

“I’m not that warm,” you argued even as you grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and arranged the blankets so that you could fit underneath. “You’re just cold.” 

Jon shrugged. The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached underneath Damian’s shirt and he swore, grabbing Jon’s wrist to keep its chill away. Another look passed over Jon’s head. He wondered sometimes if the two of you were aware he knew what you were doing and just didn’t care. Probably. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, amorcito?” You asked. Jon shrugged. 

“It’s cold outside and I’m human but otherwise yeah. I have you two,” he added smugly. Damian’s playful shoulder hit came at the same time as your muttered “sap.” Jon grinned. “So because I’m sick—sort of—I get to pick the movie. And we’re watching Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Despite the protests on both sides, the movie was playing before Damian could even get up to turn the lights off. To the side of the couch, the lights on the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft white glow. 

~

Jon awoke to a cold bed. On a good day, he’d wake with the sun—or whenever it wormed its way through the bedroom’s black out curtains—or to an international emergency. Okay, not that the emergency was good, just that he was feeling good enough to know it was happening. On a bad day, all bets were off. Jon stuck his hand out of the covers, searching blindly for his phone. After a moment of finding nothing but the wood of the end table, the scratchiness of the sheets was unignorable and he gave up, flinging back the covers to get out of bed. Hanging over the side of the dresser was a dark red sweatshirt. Jon grabbed it and tugged it on, rubbing his arms to get the lingering echo of the sheets off his skin. His off kilter super hearing zeroed in on the crooning of Michael Bublé before zooming back out into the general background noise coming from the kitchen. Jon winced, squaring his shoulders. That was a bad sign. But it was Christmas; he’d be fine. 

A quick squint at his phone told Jon that it was just after noon. No wonder the bed was cold. Jon shivered, then grabbed a pair of your fuzzy socks before opening the bedroom door. 

The smell of cinnamon and chocolate coming from the kitchen was pleasant rather than unbearable. Jon let himself breathe it in as he approached quietly. He didn’t even notice you behind him—though that was often true of an average day—before there were arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. He let himself lean back into the warmth of you. 

“Merry Christmas, mi amor. How are you feeling?” you inquired. Hot breath ghosted across his neck. Jon shrugged. 

“Fine. Excited for today.” He spun around to face you, eyes taking in your christmas pj pants and sweater with a Robin logo. Over your shoulder, Jon could see flashes of blue, likely Damian’s nightwing sweatshirt. “Merry Christmas,” he added, tucking his nose into the spot just underneath your ear for just a moment. No matter what his super senses were like, he took comfort in the smell of the two of you. A hand weaved through his hair, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Jon pulled back just enough to give you a peck on the lips before being spun around into a kiss from Damian. 

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Jon muttered, pressing a second lingering kiss to Damian’s jawline. A steady heartbeat pulsed under his fingers, wrapped around Damian’s wrist. 

“Good morning,” Damian said, wrapping an arm around Jon to keep him close. Jon blindly reached out and a second calloused hand found his. A second warm body curled around him. He missed your heartbeats’ song in his ears, but Damian’s pounding steadily under his ear and yours fluttering underneath his fingertips was good enough for right then. “Are you alright?” Damian continued. “It’s late.” His voice was echoey underneath Jon’s ear and Jon flinched instinctively. The two of you reacted immediately, pulling back. 

“Jon?” you asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Yeah,” he managed. “I’m mostly good. About as expected, you know?” Jon offered up a smile. By the looks on your faces, it didn’t do as much reassurance as he’d hoped. “I’m sorry I slept so late.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Damian argued. “There is no reason to.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon sighed. 

“How are you feeling about breakfast, mi sol?” You asked, tangling your fingers with his. 

“Sounds good,” Jon agreed. 

~

“Oh yeah I should definitely send Dick a text to thank him. And also say Merry Christmas,” Jon said, flopping down on the couch after breakfast. With his partners looking happy, Christmas music in the background, and a breakfast of vegan pancakes in his stomach, Jon could almost forget about the buzzing under his skin. 

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “He would have swapped with me anyway. Gordon and Father are both working tonight so it was pointless for him to have the evening off.”

Jon shrugged. “Still, doesn’t hurt to say thanks.” 

“Say hi from me too,” you yelled over the running kitchen sink. After a moment more, the water shut off and Jon released a silent sigh at the absence of an irritating bit of noise. He was lucky the x-ray vision hadn’t started acting up. Not only was that like the antithesis of Christmas presents (his mom kept presents out of the house or in a lead box until morning for that very reason), but it was also a huge pain and the hardest to hide. Screwy touch and hearing was more than enough. Dishware clanked around in the kitchen as Damian sat beside Jon on the couch. 

“No change?” He asked, reaching for a Nightwing mug of cider on the coffee table. 

Jon shrugged. “Nope, nothing yet.” Damian narrowed his eyes and Jon attempted to start coming up with excuses. At the very least, he could probably get Damian to leave it alone until after gifts. Less so if you noticed too and started teaming up on him. 

“Ready for presents?” You asked, sitting down on the other side of Damian. You raised the untouched Superman mug to your lips, eyes scanning over Jon. 

“Yes!” Jon butt in before you could say anything. “Let’s do it.” 

You and Damian exchanged a look. On the floor below, the elevator dinged, releasing a family with a horde of kids. “Okay,” you conceded, standing to grab the first load of presents.

In the apartment directly underneath, the front door squealed open. A load of presents was slammed down on the floor beside him. Three kids squealed “gramma!” in unison. Jon’s hoodie was all of the sudden suffocating him. 

Jon jumped up and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, pawing the sleeves off before yanking his socks off too. He didn’t care where they ended up. His hands went up to press against his ears. Stumbling over his own feet, Jon meandered backwards until his back slammed into a wall and then slid down, knees up and head with ears still covered in between them. Sounds zoomed in and out. All of the sudden, he could hear Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing eight floors down, then A Christmas Carol on someone’s TV across the street. Focus! Jon yelled at himself through all the noise. One steady beat came into focus, then another. 

Until there was a soft item brushing his feet, Jon didn’t realize he had company. A steady beat pulsed in his ears, too loud even for its familiarity. He pulled the blanket close. Something plastic nudged his shoulder and Jon grabbed it instinctively, slamming special-made headphones over his ears. The sounds faded down into something manageable. Jon took a deep breath. And then another. He didn’t need to hear to know that the two of you were there. When he reached out tentatively with his sense of smell, the usual wave of cinnamon-vanilla-brown sugar-clove and somethings just the two of you tempered by pine and peppermint was comforting rather than overwhelming. Jon let it wash over him, clutching the soft weighted blanket to his chest. 

When he cracked his eyes open, two blurs blinked into focus as his partners, leaning against the back of the couch and hands linked. Damian’s head rested on your shoulder, one of your hands tangled in his hair. Jon noticed as soon as Damian saw he was up. He almost slammed his head into your chin as he shot up and Jon huffed a laugh.  

“Ameli?” Damian asked. Your eyes locked onto Jon’s. 

“You guys shouldn’t sit on the floor,” Jon responded. “It’s bad for your backs.”

You offered Jon a hand, ignoring his remark completely. Jon’s chest ached. If you weren’t willing to banter, he’d scared you. “How are you feeling?”   

Jon took the hand and stood, adjusting the headphones so they stayed on his head. He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and reached his other hand out towards Damian before tugging the both of you up and towards the couch. 

“I’m okay,” Jon reassured you, sitting down on the couch. “I promise.” When neither of you moved, he tugged you both down on top of him, interrupting the bat-assessment written all over Damian’s face.  

“Promise like this morning?” Damian argued. Jon winced. 

“Okay, yeah maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“Been a self-sacrificial dumbass as if we don’t a) know you and b) want you to talk to us?” You cut in. Jon could read the hurt underneath the anger clear as day. His fingers brushed over two sets of knuckles, one scarred from years of fighting without protective gear, the other dry from the winter air. 

“I know. I just wanted today to be a good day, you know? We never get uninterrupted holidays.” Jon resisted the urge to pull his hands away from yours and curl into himself. The two burning gazes on him were ones of love and concern, though, not judgment. 

“And for some reason you think accommodating you makes the day worse, why?” Damian asked. Jon didn’t have an answer. 

“We love you, Jon. Eres nuestro pareja. We picked ‘partners’ for a reason, yeah?”  You squeezed his hand in yours. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, head dropping to your shoulder. Silence was heavy in the room for a moment. 

“You choose what we do next,” Damian stated, tugging the blacket from its bundled blob to instead cover you and Jon. 

Jon moved from your shoulder to halfway on top of Damian, tugging you on top of him. “You guys are going to squish me in between you while we watch a movie and then we can do presents?” 

You shot him a wicked smile. Jon shrieked as Damian pulled him bodily half on top of him along the couch, cut off when you landed nearly on top of Jon. 

“Good?” You asked. Jon let himself sink into Damian, arms coming up to wrap around your waist. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.”

Damian grabbed the remote. “We’re not watching Elf.”

Jon stuck his tongue out at him.  

[razertail18]

Miguel O'hara and daughter! Reader

I dunno why, but I'm an absolute sucker for Miguel O'hara and daughter!reader(its platonic, I can't stand incest)

My head just thinks of all the possible angst it has. One of these days, I'll finally be able to find the time to write other fics and this one in a proper way and just a rough idea!

~~✨💗🎀💗✨~~

You always love your papa, Miguel O'hara, but it's painfully obvious how he has been lacking recently. Well... As recently as the past few years.

Ever since the start of high school, Miguel has been absent in some events of your life.

It started when he would be late from picking you up from school, you would stay up late just to wait for him to come home, forgetting your traditional daddy-daughter sunday bonding time.

You didn't mind it at first until he stopped taking you out to celebrate your achievements, more specifically, every time you won a medal or got first place into any academic competition(specifically math and science).

Yup... You were a genius like your papa but he didn't send you to any gifted schools. He thought you deserved a normal childhood.

It was back in grade 9 where you won in an international math competition and won a gold medal... Like... Shock! Biggest achievement yet.

You already called Miguel about it and you just straight lied to him that all you got was a participation award. You were planning on surprising him, you take pride in the fact that you are just like your papa.

You went home with a medal in your hand and a bunch of empanadas on your other.

You wait.

And wait..

Oh, look at that it's 12:00 am. You could always skip school the next day...or technically today.

4 am and no calls... Is he... Okay?

And then Lyla pops up

"Oh, Lyla? Did papa have another all nighter at Alchemax?"

"Look, kid... I'll be honest with you... Miguel... He won't come back for a while."

"What?! Why? But... He said that he'll be here, besides, we always celebrate after I-"

"Y/N. I'm sorry, really, I am. And I'm sure your father does too."

You don't know why but you swore the way she gritted her teeth. Is that possible for holographic AI?

"Anyway, congrats, kid. I know it's just a participation award but, heck, you were against international kids. The best of the best. I mean, competing against hundreds of students in more than 20 countries. That's wild-"

"It's actually gold.

"What?"

"Won first place... I... I just wanna surprise, papa... But, um, thanks anyway..."

After that, it just got worse month after month, year after year. You are used to being alone now. Sometimes Tio Gabriel is there to take care of you. Lyla helps you to keep yourself sane.

While Miguel might still live at your house, it doesn't feel like it.

"I'm busy right now, hija."

"I'm sorry, biscotcho... Maybe some other time."

"Y/N, please! I am tired, I just need some peace at the moment."

Excuse after excuse. That's all you get.

There are the occasional times he did spend time with you that you both enjoy

But it got butchered when you were 15.

He was just gone. For months.

Tio Gabriel had to move in with you.

"Mig- Your papa is just busy. He's, um-"

"I get it... He's busy. What's new?"

Gabriel could see just how you were struggling to keep it together. He knows how close you and Miguel used to be.

Gabriel was debating on whether he should tell you that it was because Miguel had an accident that made him half-spider, half-human.

That Miguel became Spider-Man, a figure you slowly idolized and internally wished he'd be your father instead(Ironic, I know), that's why he's late.

That Miguel is out there saving the multi verse.

That Miguel does love you.

Granted, Gabriel didn't know that Miguel ditched you and him to live happily in another universe where he doesn't bear the burden of being Spider-Man.

After months, Miguel came back. You didn't recognize him at first.

His hair is unkept, dark circles under his eyes, more agitated, he's depressed. It's Miguel alright but a shell of your father.

It was one night where you found out the truth when a strange portal appeared and a few...Spider-Man or Spider-Men? Women? Cat? Spider-People.

Along with them is the Spider-Man you were familiar with. There's that skull shaped spider in his costume.

You were trying to get a closer look and caught them on camera. You didn't expect them that your Spider-Man would reveal his face

"P-Papa?"

After that you started digging deeper, snooping around Miguel's things and researching about Spider-Man in general.

You were fangirling at first until you realize that's the whole reason why he had always been so absent

You were furious. You don't know whether to shout, cry, punch, wail, or anything to let your bottled up emotions out

You hated him.

He left you to save other people. He abandoned you to be a superhero. And he didn't tell you! He lied to you.

Did Lyla knew? Of course she does. And tio Gabriel, he might as well have.

Would he really abandon his child to just play the hero...

You wanna tell him.

You were already walking down Miguel's office until you heard him talk about some anomalies and how these villains keep taking up his time.

"I shocking swear, Miguel, you get to see these villains more than you get to see your own daughter!"

"Several universes depends on it! You think I have enjoyed doing this for the past several years, Gab?!"

So the villains get more attention than you, huh?

Maybe it's time to have that so-called 'Bad girl era' that almost every teen goes through. But how...

You huffed as you landed on your bed filled with Spider-Man comics from the Golden Hero era as part of your research. And then you saw a particular villain in one of the pages.

"I'm a genius, right?... How hard could it be to pull off Doc Oct's metal arms... Besides... Nueva York still hasn't had a version of him. It's about time for one."

You immediately got to work. You had experience when it comes to robotics and tech, thanks to Miguel since he introduced you to it.

Miguel and Gabriel thought of nothing about it when you requested several metal parts and wires. It was not uncommon for you to mess around making robots.

The other materials that will gather suspicion, you have to buy it yourself or steal it.

You did feel bad for stealing but you love that adrenaline rush in your blood as you almost got caught and ran away scot free.

You made some changes to the original idea of Doc Oct's metal limbs. You read something about an inhibitor chip and there's no way you are implanting a chip in your body.

So you have to work your way around it. There's also something about an A.I., a huge no for you since you learned the hard way that you are still beyond mastering it.

So you just went with the voice command and controlling it manually.

At first you only have two limbs and the other pair was only used after you got the handle of it.

"Soooo... What crime should I do first... I don't exactly wanna hurt people. I just wanna fight pap- I mean, Spider-Man but how..."

You walk through the city carrying that heavy ass backpack containing the metal arms while looking where to cause crime.

Then you saw how a bunch of the policemen were abusing their power...again. And you look back at the police that was parked just near you.

"Hello there..."

It took Miguel by surprise when he saw a clip sent by Lyla about some weird Doc Oct wannabe making a ruckus in Nueva York about...destroying police cars and the police department? Odd.

Nonetheless, Miguel is pissed and was forced to fight the new villain any way whom he had found to be annoying.

"What in the shock are you achieving in destroying cars, Doc Oct?"

"Ummm, don't you think Doc Quad fits better... I only have, like, 4 metal limbs. But it makes me sound like a body builder.

It was strange how much you enjoyed causing mayhem or was it because Miguel's focus is on you. Regardless, your 'villainy' continued on for months.

You never hurt innocent people. More like an inconvenience to everyone in the city and just being a stupid teen who thinks there being bad but cool.

Of course, Miguel hated you. You were there being a distraction to his responsibility of keeping the multi verse in tact.

Strangely enough if there were any anomalies in Nueva York, you were the one to fight them off and the Spider-People sometimes just needed to pick them up to send them back home.

And as time goes on, you actually manage to strike a peaceful conversation with Miguel and some of the other Spider-People like Peter B. And Gwen(if they were around Nueva York) if you weren't feeling like being a menace.

"I'm just saying, Miguel. Your Doc Oct could be a great member in HQ. Just think about it." Gwen is trying to convince Miguel, she sort of made a weird friendship with you.

"She's practically harmless." Peter added.

"Uhuh. I think flooding the streets of Nueva York, releasing several animals free in pounds, painting government halls in rainbows, cleaning the river while tossing the thrash back in front of company's headquarters, and destroying police property is pretty harmless.

"Sounds more like an angst teen to me. At least, she never tried killing you." Peter joked.

He did give it some thought. Maybe you are a teen behind that black mask and shades you always wear but he couldn't really know.

Except for one particular event.

It was your sixteenth birthday. Miguel promised to make it special for you since you never got the quinceañera he promised you before.

You didn't really care you just wanted the whole day with him.

You didn't go to school that day only spending the day with Miguel.

This was it. Your prayers have finally been answered and then- oops...

Miguel left you in a diner while taking lunch to 'go buy something' and he didn't return.

Everything is turning out so well. A bed in breakfast, giving you tons of hugs and kisses from your papa, letting you pick out a new dress, and watching that new monster movie you've been waiting for about some overgrown lizard.

You knew he had been called to his 'job'. That is more important than you. Than his own daughter.

You left the dinner as you ran back to your home. You don't wanna cry. Not this time. Your heart is burning with all the rage and pain of his neglect over the years.

When Gabriel saw your tear-stained face, he already knew what happened.

He was ready to hear you breaking down in your room but he didn't expect to see your bedroom walls breaking down with tentacle claws visible through the smoke and rubble.

"Y-Y/N?" Gabriel didn't wanna believe it. But he saw you put on that mask and the shades that Doc Oct always wears.

You refused to listen to anybody as you thrashed everything that comes in your way. And you went directly to the electricity company and turned the lights illuminating the city night off.

You thrashed the broadcast and signal of the city (a/n: how do you even describe that)

No electricity, no signals, everything is off. You hoped that the HQ Miguel is in is affected as well.

You got bored as you ruined the streets, letting your anger out in the destruction you havoc.

Now...where was that HQ located? You swore you saw it in your father's plans.

Okay. Plan B.

Time to pay a visit to your papa's office.

~~✨💗🎀💗✨~~

A/N: might continue it as an actual proper fic but I really wanna write the reader as a villain. I know it's such a mess but way too sleep deprived but I might continue it later

[florencetypemaniacs]

NSFW

It's the cast's birthday! So the Mc just wraps themself up in ribbons, top it off with a cute bow and wait for their lover to come home!

How would the Ro's react to it?

NSFW ⚠️ Mild

💛 Marcel

Marcel hadn't thought you had anything planned, and while he still liked to remember his birthday, he never got to celebrate it. Now he had you, and that made Marcel feel like he was walking on air. 

So for his birthday, he planned the most relaxing evening with you, a nice homemade meal with the help of Tai, a pint of ice cream for each of you, and a romantic comedy that Marcel had his eye on for a while. 

So when he opened the door to find you lounging on the sofa with a smirk on your face, he almost dropped the bag he was holding. 

"Well, hello, birthday boy." 

Everything clicked into place, and Marcel melted into a puddle of sweet affection, awaiting arousal as he sat beside you, a smile so bright on his face.

"I didn't think you had anything planned." He said, his lips ghosting over your own, and you felt yourself shiver. 

"It's your special day, Marcel." 

Marcel shook his head and kissed you deeply, slowly leaving you breathless before whispering in your ear. 

"Every day is special with you." 

🧡 Margaret 

Margaret loved birthdays. Each one when she was alive made her feel like she was the most special person in the room, and her parents made sure of that. 

The presents were big. 

The decorations hung perfectly.

The sweets that lined the table every year. 

If only she knew that such a glamorous life would be the cause of her death. 

Margaret still acknowledged her birthday, it was a time to share with the people you loved and cared for, but she couldn't find it in herself to have a big party. 

No. All she wanted was you. 

She craved your comfort and affection like a starving man for a hot meal. 

Margaret practically ran up the stairs to your room, to see you. To feel your warmth on an emotionally confusing day only to be met with yourself tied In a pretty pink ribbon that did nothing to hide your naked form. 

Margaret felt her back hit the closed door, and a smug smile crossed your face. 

"Well, hello, birthday girl."

And Margaret was gone, anything that she was going to say left her mind as soon as she saw you.

"What are you doing?" Margaret squeaked out, and you laughed. 

"I thought I would give you your present early. Do you like it?" You twirled around, and Margaret felt like she was going to faint. 

Your girlfriend took a few more deep, long breaths before looking at you with such genuine love that it took you aback. 

"I don't just like it." Margaret kissed you softly and tenderly. "I love it." 

❤️ Owen 

Owen didn't celebrate his birthday. Parties were for the rich, for the lucky when he was alive, and there wasn't much to celebrate anyway. Hell, if his father didn't complain about selling his favorite mule every year to feed the baby he was left with, then Owen would probably never know his birthday. 

Although Owen could feel you had something planned, he didn't know what, but the looks he sent you made the wheels turn in his head. First, he wondered if it was a surprise party, but Margaret didn't give away anything, which wouldn't have been possible if she was given a secret. 

Then there was Marcel, who had to go report back to his Lord, and Owen knew that the sappy bastard wouldn't miss a party for his friend for anything. 

So when Owen opened the door to the bedroom to find you wearing nothing but a flimsy ribbon and a bow awkwardly on your hair, he wasn't that surprised, just giving you a look up and down. 

"Like what you see, birthday boy?" 

"Aye, Lass/Duck/Lad. I like this present very much." Owen said, closing the door behind him with his foot. 

Your boyfriend played with the ribbons, his eyes hungry, and your body began to shake with anticipation. 

"Ye didn't have to go all through this trouble just for me," Owen said with a quiet, gruff tone. 

"Of course I did, Owen. You deserve to have a happy birthday. 

Owen took the bow off your head. "Bloody hell, lass/Duck/lad I never felt happier than with you." 

💙 Rosemary 

Rosemary knew you were up to something. She could read that you had some sort of trick, and knowing that it was her birthday, she had a few ideas of what that could be. 

Her family was poor, so birthdays were about spending time with family, talking, and sharing, Her parents always tried to make them special. 

And while she didn't celebrate her birthday other than with an acknowledgment and a few gifts, she didn't find it that big of a deal. 

That was until she walked into your bedroom to find you in such a seductive state. 

Rosemary smirked as she played with the ribbon. "All tied up for me, handsome/angel face/dollface?" 

You nodded. "I thought it would make your birthday special." 

Rosemary kissed your forehead. "Oh, love, you already make my life special by just being with me, but if you need me to prove it to you." Rosemary gracefully threw the bow to the floor. "I will just have to unwrap you." 

🩵 Tai

Tai sighed as he walked through the door, his eyes drooping when he saw you. 

With just a ribbon and a ridiculous bow on your head, he became wide awake. 

You snickered as your boyfriend's mouth was wide open, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. 

"What are you doing?" His voice came out more like a croaked-out whisper than he meant for it to. 

"Oh, I thought the birthday boy would like to unwrap his present." 

Tai tried to keep his face blank, but he was failing miserably as his face was a bright red. Tai honestly completely forgot that it was his birthday, much less thought you even remembered. Between work and his hellish duties, it completely slipped his mind, and now you were sitting in his office with basically nothing except that shit-eating grin. 

"No need to be so smug," Tai whispered as he closed the door behind him, locking it, then stepped closer to you. 

"Me? Smug? How could I not be when I won." You said, purring in his ear, and Tai breathed in your sweet smell of baked goods. 

Tai's eyes narrowed at your tone. "Won what?" 

You wrapped his arms around Tai's neck and gave him a light kiss. "I got the workaholic doctor to take a night off." 

Tai easily picked you up, which left you gasping in surprise. "Who says what I am going to do isn't work?" 

You played with his tie as he placed you on the examination table, legs apart. "You think of this as a job?" Your tone was teasing. 

Tai got on his knees, kissing your most sensitive skin and letting a moan escape you. 

"You're worth all the time," Tai whispered against your skin. 

💚 Zane 

Zane hated his birthday. First off, he never knew what it was when he was growing up. His teacher thought the idea of birthdays was a childish thing. something that was a distraction. 

Zane wished he hadn't dug deeper, but he had to. To find just a small piece of himself and of his old life, only to find out that the same day he was given life was on the date that his mother's ended. 

Zane hated birthdays. 

So the moment he woke up that morning, he was in an angry mood, as everyone could tell. Zane's crude jokes were lacking, so he couldn't blame you when you disappeared. 

The blonde opened the bedroom door, hoping that you were back from wherever you went to find you naked and lying on the bed, creasing yourself. 

The green ribbon tied around you, covering nothing and still hiding anything in a way that left Zane gripping the door knob. 

"I know you don't like your birthday, so I thought I would make it a little better." Your voice came out shy and sheepish, almost like you didn't know if this was somehow crossing a boundary, even though it involved you naked in his bed, a boundary that didn't exist in Zane's book. You were always welcomed in his bed.  

Zane breathed in and out. He had to remember to breathe, or he would hobble over. 

You were trying to make him feel better. 

You were trying to make him happy. 

That was enough for Zane to tear the ribbon off with his teeth. 

[merakiui]

I loved the ebb and flow!!! Floyb being down bad and pining for the reader is so.. ( ´ཀ` ) anyway, I hope your pillow is cold on both sides tonight! You deserve it ❀˖°

Now... what if Floyd got more bold with his actions and maybe does something in front of Azul to tell that he's better than him and that he should back the fuck up.

(Floyd knocking reader up accidentally and now It's too late to do anything? Lol, baby gets born and it starts looking like Floyd day after day. And while papa Leech and mama Leech are angry at Floyd, Jade gets to business and tries to knock reader up himself ⍢)

(♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) thank youuuuu!!! I hope your pillow sides are also cold! Floyb being down bad is always so fun to write. I actually just wanted to write awkward first time sex with Floyb, but then I realized I didn't write anything to celebrate 4/20 and so I knew I had to write a small scene where you and the twins take edibles and cuddle while listening to bossa nova. <3 the pining paired with stepcest flavoring makes for a very delicious meal.

I believe in punk Jade supremacy!!! Jade who is something of the poster child for the family because he's the "good twin," and so he goes out of his way to reverse that preconceived notion by getting piercings and tattoos in his own rebellious ways. I think Floyd (and also Jade) being a menace to his step-sibling is very fun. The three of you may bicker sometimes and be utter pains to one another, but at the end of the day you love them (they love you a little too much, though... ;;;;).

Aaaaa I love the idea of Floyd trying to assert his dominance over Azul. The original idea for the prom scene was for Floyd to kiss you in front of Azul. >:D he's such a brat!!!! Maybe he'll do that instead just to remind Azul that, while he's allowed to be close, he's not nearly as close as you and Floyd. ദ്ദി´▽`) but Azul grew up with the three of you, so maybe he knows the twins are freaks. (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

(Omg Jade knocking you up next...... it's only fair, isn't it? You gave Floyd a child and now he wants one, too. You can make him a father as well, can't you? 🥺 all with those pleading eyes of his....... your step-brothers are so troublesome. >_<)

[pineapplehazard]

8x04 spoilers!!

Aaaaah i loved it, the whole thing!! I missed the silly interventions!!!!

- Henren : I'm so glad that Mara can finally go home to her moms and her brother!!!! (yes I saw the promo for ep5, but I'm gonna live in denial until next week (: ). Though I gotta say, why did they go outside with Madney and Mara that was such a stupid move 😐 (sorry).

- Gerrard: i do not consider this a redemption arc but shit, without him we wouldn't be where we are. I'm mad that he got an ending that is also satisfying for him, he SO doesn't deserves it!!!eurgh. The real reason everyone (mostly) is back where they belong is thanks to Bobby manipulating him but still, Gerrard shouldn't have a ending that he is pleased with eurgh.

Also how could Bobby do that to Brad? 😔💔 *sad british noises in the background*

- Buck : you perfect, intelligent man that you are giving Bobby a scare with the 'Little buddy' part of your bobby-therapy-session.....

- Chimney : looked so great, is so great, I love chimney, and it shouldn't but him with the gun did it for me!!

- Bobby and Athena : love that they're gonna rebuild, they could have had this idea around three months before though cause now they're gonna stay in that apartment for a little while longer... Also, I love Bobby being in love with Athena (and Athena with Bobby), they're adorable I love them

- Edmundo Diaz : first, I will never agree with Bobby on that mustache, I really really really appreciate it,, SO MUCH

Second, the angst is coming can you all feel it? I mean it's here already but a mountain of angst is building. Everyone's problems got resolved this episode, except for Eddie's one (and they couldn't resolve it so soon so that's normal but) meaning that at the end of the day, while The Wilsons and Hans were celebrating, and Athena and Bobby finally solved their house problem, (and Buck was... Idk ? Free of Gerrard? Can't really think of something here), and Wes and his father reunited.... Eddie went home and it was still just an empty house, because Chris is still in Texas and barely talking to him

So what if my heart broke when Wes called him Dad? Cause that's maybe the first time he's heard someone calling him that in a while...

On another note, I was worried he would go full Maddie-stalking-style with Wes' dad at first, maybe that's just because my brain loves finding parallels between Eddie and Maddie... Anyway, the whole talk with the dad about absent fathers, stupid masculinity stuff, and all. That was great.

'Masks' PROMO SPOILERS (i'm gonna try to stay evasive)

CAN'T WE LET THEM HAVE PEACE FOR AT LEAST ONE EPISODE??? ONE?? THAT'S SO F UP!!

Also I know it makes sense for ep4 to be 'No Place Like Home' but when next episode you have characters dressed like the Wizard of Oz's characters... Idk it feels like a miss, it doesn't sit well in my mind🤷‍♀️

If a 'friend od Dorothy' reference is made somehow throughout the episode I might combust

Also it feels weird that we got the synopsis so long before the airing and the synopsis focused a lot on Buck, when clearly the promo shows where focus might actually be... Bc when we have storyline like the one shown in the promo, usually you don't have to much time to put another character's storyline in focus in it. So Buck was probably to throw us, and he's just gonna be like believing there's ghosts or something like that...

Can't wait to know more about ep6 too!! The release date, stuff like that, I'm hyped!!