#his onesie collection

[zibanejad]

he’s so fucking weird

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

[taylorswiftstyle]

MTV Video Music Awards | September 11, 2024

Dior Resort 2025 Lorraine Schwartz earrings Stuart Weitzman ‘Ultrastuart Maverick Leather Boots’ - $1,550.00

Dior’s latest cruise collection was an ode to Scotland and the house’s first runway show held there in 7 decades. Creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri said of her inspiration, “Scotland is an important reference in the fashion world and I wanted to interpret it in a different way. For my generation, it’s so associated with punk.” The result was an offering full of voluminous skirts, dramatically cinched dresses, and hourglass jackets rendered in historically accurate tartans and, indeed, set off with certain punk sensibilities thanks to studded leather accessories and clompy buckled boots. 

The VMA dress code typically leans towards the wacky and the outrageous. Hence why Taylor has felt comfortable appearing in alphagetti soup baby onesies (aka The Incident, circa 2014). I’ll put it on record again and again that I may pull a face at that look (and still do, a decade later) but I will always appreciate a risk (relative to the wearer). Fashion should be fun! 

The collection filters Scotland’s most historic women into its fabrics. Namely, Mary Queen of Scots: a fiery Sagittarius woman I’d like to think Taylor might feel kinship with. During her years of imprisonment in England by QEI, Mary would insert veiled - often political - symbols into her embroidery. At one point even the phrase, "In my end lies my beginning" was embroidered into her state's clothes. Doesn’t that feel, “In the death of her reputation, she felt truly alive”? 

In his review of this Dior runway, Mark Holgate for Vogue described the collection as one that “drew on the geopolitics of fabric[s …] and the way [Mary] gave political commentary through her embroideries.” He described the series as full of “defiant beauty and an equally defiant energy. It felt uncompromising. But then maybe women can’t afford to be anything but that, especially now.” If a possible connect, I admire this evocation in the wake of Taylor’s major political endorsement. Especially given Chiuri worked with the iconic Harris Tweeds for their artisan, loomed wool. This teed her up nicely for an onstage call to action to remind viewers to register to vote.

All-in, this felt like a cohesive night of looks to underpin TTPD’s aesthetic. The runway’s interplay of proportions and bustier-like top are very TTPD - sensual, emboldened, playing with what to reveal and what to hide. A look that’s dark academia adjacent. 

I do find the biker gloves (also by Dior) confusing and I’m searching for insight on their ‘why’. At the Grammys, I could buy into the ‘Albatross’ reference in her black elbow-length gloves. These? I’m still trying to make sense of. A straitjacket allusion, perhaps? Were I to make some styling tweaks, I would have removed the gloves, opted for the coordinating tartan shorts from the runway, and changed the boots out to an equally tall but caged style to tie into the patterned effect of the ensemble.

Photo by Dimitrios Kambouris via Getty Images

[koralcove]

okay, but like... the thought of sylus and xavier of how they generally are in bed... like, i think some ppl get them swapped up, coz like...

everyone's saying that sylus is such a beast in bed and would absolutely demolish you until your legs feel like you'd need to go through physical therapy to walk again... and they're absolutely right.

BUT

i also hear those who say that sylus is an absolutely soft and sensual lover in bed, and honestly, that version speaks TRUTH. because, HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MAN WITH US?! the way his character progresses with becoming absolutely, indescribably, adoringly soft with us. the big bad, dark and mysterious, cold-blooded, ruthless leader of onychinus is willing to do things out of his element just because we think it's fun. you want matching cute onesies? he's already purchased a pair for us. you want to go take silly photos together and hang out in an amusement park where he could be publicly seen doing mundane and questionably harmless activities that personally don't look like it suits his style? if that's what you want, then he's not opposed to it.

that man is absolutely soft with us, and you can't tell me that he wouldn't prefer to make sweet, deep, lovin' with his darling. the way he'd want to be pressed impossibly close to you, your body so soft against him, taking every bit of effort to not rush into this intimate moment with you because he wants to feel every inch of your skin tracing on his fingertips. he wants to prolong the sensation of your warmth radiating to him, shushing your whines with his deep baritones of, "there there, sweetie. no need to rush, i'm not going anywhere," always with that teasing lilt in his voice, but it can't cover up the adoration spilling out of him.

and god, he'd be gentle with you. he knows you can take what he gives you, knows what you're capable of. but damn, he couldn't resist giving you all that gentle devotion because you're just so precious to him. and through all the rough edges of his living, he wants to give you something tender. wants to bare how putty you make him just from your presence alone. he doesn't think of it as a weakness. in fact, it fuels his fire of making sure to stake his claim on you properly by giving you all you deserve. and he always sets the pace. wants you to feel how absolutely weak-kneed you make him in an imitation of his light touches that set small sparks of desire on your skin, pressing searing kisses on you as an invisible brand until he finally gives in to the lust gnawing at him, but making sure to always, always, be careful with you.

and then, there's xavier...

xavier with his cherub-like features that you think can do no harm if you didn't know him well enough. with how he looks like a constantly clueless puppy that you can easily please with the temptation of a nap time, you'd think he'd be the type to go with some lazy, intimate love making with you while you're both half-awake... which is not wrong, really, but that's just the tip of the iceberg.

as someone who goes with the flow, xavier is not opposed to anything you would suggest, even if the idea itself seems outlandish, then that boy is down (just like how down bad he is for you). you wanna be on top? cool, no problem with him being the pillow princess. you want him to take you from behind? he'll give you an absolutely mind-blowing back shot. but the kicker with xavier is that he's an absolute FREAK (we talkin' abt neck-breaking freaky deaky shit), and i love how everyone collectively agrees on that. because there's just smth abt a man who appears so unbothered by a lot of things, always cool in faces of plight (and girl, his heartbeat is literally slow, does nothing ever faze him???) that the thought of him going wild is just a big ol' WOWZA. AND PAIRED WITH THAT INNOCENT LI'L PUPPY FACE OF HIS?! oh honey, i'm already unzipping your pants for you-

and honey, his strength... his stamina?! girl, he be the kind to go at it alllll night. "once isn't enough" ALREADY SAYS A LOT. and that man is not shy at all, because you can't tell me that he whispers absolute filth in your ear, catching you off guard at how uncharacteristic it seems of him, but it flows so smoothly through his tongue that you just have to wonder what kind of thoughts run through his head when he's with you, because rn, as he's pounding you silly against the mattress, hips pistoning into you at lightning speed, yet still hitting oh so deep into you, he's absolutely insatiable for you. and he would not hesitate to go all out on you as long as he knows you can handle it. because he knows it can be too much. but when he sees those tears streaming down your cheeks from how good his dick is at making you see stars, shaking under him as you grip onto his arm, he couldn't resist with bullying your poor overstimulated body and getting an orgasm out of you just one more time out of... maybe three? seven? he's lost count.

but don't get me wrong, xavier is still the type to be skin-achingly intimate with you. loves how you're pressed against him as you both lazily rock your hips against one another. but it just so happens that he's a absolutely ravenous with you as well, rutting into you like a bunny in heat.

with sylus, love making with him is tender, reverent, but never losing that intensity, while xavier is absolutely uninhibited and would even lose track of the amount of times you've already cummed for him.

[perfectlyoongi]

BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who asked you to draw a star for him to tattoo on his ring finger. you and Jimin met on a starry night, your first meeting was under the stars, the beginning of your relationship was blessed by the various celestial stars; it was obvious that Jimin thought of you in every shining light in the sky, in every ancient constellation — and who better to carve your eternal love than you? “it’s a promise, you know? a promise that we will love each other forever.”

BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who likes it when you comb his hair on slow winter mornings. still cuddling in gentle sleep, Jimin sat in your bathroom as he lazily watched you in the mirror; your hands moved delicately, your fingers already knew every strand of Jimin's hair, wrapping themselves in his hair with expertise and precision, always leaving him satisfied with your work. “do whatever, i trust you. just let me sleep for a moment.”

BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who buys matching onesies for your home movie dates. an extensive and colorful collection filled your wardrobe, tails and ears and hoods filling as much space as they could; in the comfort of the warm fabric, in each other's arms, with your snacks, your night went on for hours, only stopping when your eyes decided to create their own fantastic movies. “today we can use the stitch one and watch a disney movie. oh! a new one came out recently. come, lie down beside me.”

BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who gives you a bouquet of lego flowers on your first anniversary. why buy real flowers that would be consumed by time, taking with them the proof of Jimin's love for you? the lego flowers were eternal, resistant but endowed with a delicacy that made them always beautiful — just like your relationship with Jimin. “and when a new flower comes out, i will buy it and make it and give it to you because our love is always growing and will never wither.”

BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who jumps and screams and hugs you and kisses you every time his photocard appears in the album he gifted you. whenever Jimin gave you a new album, his heart fluttered with anticipation, while his eyes searched for reactions on your features to the photocard you hid from him; and, oh, when he saw himself, it was as if your love was confirmed by the universe, as if that photograph was proof of the veracity of your love. “i knew my photocard was going to come out! it’s destiny to be with me forever, seriously!”

BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who likes to run around the house chasing you, listening to your excited screams and threatening a tickle attack. Jimin felt like a child by your side, always pure and safe, and so his most playful side came out in a small and fun tickle fight. “come here! don't run away from me! i just want to show my love for you.”

BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who said he loved you when you arrived home after a sudden rain soaked you from head to toe. the rain had caught you by surprise when you were getting home and now, in the comfort of your walls, with water still dripping from your hair, and clothes and laughter filling the room, Jimin just looked at you and as soon as he saw how happiness illuminated you, he just confessed. “liking you is so easy when you are simply divine. i love you.”

[simplygojo]

Trick or Treat

Author’s Note: Hey friends!!! This is the only fluff piece I wrote for the spooky szn...but thats okay!! I love this concept and I love including pokemon in this blurb bc I've resparked my obession as of late...anyways I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS!!

Spooky Szn Masterlist

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: mildly suggestive jokes...bc it's gojo...

Spooky Szn Taglist: @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

You had been dating Gojo for quite some time now, and it was heartwarming to see him step into his role as a father. 

Megumi, his precious six-year-old adoptive son, had been bursting with excitement about Halloween for weeks. 

After brainstorming costume ideas together, Megumi insisted he wanted to dress as Pikachu, and you both couldn’t resist his adorable enthusiasm. 

Gojo and you decided to dress as Pokémon trainers to match him, thrilled to create a fun experience for Megumi and his two best friends, Nobara and Yuji, who would be joining you for the evening.

“Ready, Pikachu?” You called, looking over to your right. Megumi, wearing his Pikachu onesie and a plush tail flopping behind him, nodded vigorously, his excitement barely contained.

“Pika!” He squeaked, bouncing on his feet.

“Let’s go catch ’em all!” Gojo chimed in, his voice laced with that signature playful energy. 

He stood tall beside you, dressed similarly in a Pokémon trainer outfit, complete with a red and white cap that made him look both adorable and rugged. His azure eyes sparkled with mischief as he adjusted his jacket, revealing just a hint of his toned arms.

“Are you two ready?” Yuji exclaimed, bouncing on his heels in his Bulbasaur costume, while Nobara, decked out in an Eevee onesie, rolled her eyes playfully.

“I just want candy already,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Aw, but we have to catch our Pokémon first!” Gojo teased, leaning down to ruffle Megumi’s hair, which was a fluffy mess of black locks peeking out from under the yellow hood. “Who knows what rare Pokémon we might find tonight?”

With a bright laugh, you turned the corner, leading the small group down the tree-lined street. 

The houses were adorned with glowing jack-o’-lanterns and spooky decorations, creating a festive atmosphere that made the night feel magical.

As you approached the first house, Gojo leaned closer to you, whispering conspiratorially, “You know, I’ve always thought that if I could be any Pokémon, I’d be the one with the best moves.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what would that be?”

With a grin that could only be described as devilish, he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “The one that really knows how to please… the ladies.”

You stifled a giggle, aware that Megumi and the others were too busy marvelling at the giant spider decorations to hear.

“That’s enough, Satoru…” You teased through your grin.

He chuckled softly in response, his eyes sparkling as his gaze returned to the kids. 

Megumi and Yuji were animatedly discussing the giant decorative spider with Nobara, who was beaming in her cute Eevee outfit. 

The sight of them, with their pumpkin shaped candy bags clutched tightly in their little hands and their laughter ringing out, warmed your heart.

Gojo leaned down slightly, his enthusiasm evident as he exclaimed, “Look at them! I can’t believe how cute they are! This is what Halloween is all about!” 

His voice was filled with genuine excitement, his typical bravado replaced with a softer, almost fatherly affection as he watched the trio.

As they approached the first house, you could see Megumi leading the charge, his confidence growing with every step. 

He was so proud in his Pikachu tail, ready to collect the first of many treats. 

You exchanged a glance with Gojo, who smiled back at you, both of you sharing a moment of joy over the happiness of the kids.

“Trick or treat!” They chorused as they reached the door, bags held out expectantly.

The door swung open, and the homeowner beamed at the adorable sight before them. 

“Oh wow, what fantastic costumes! Here you go!” They dropped handfuls of candy into the kids’ bags, their smiles wide as they watched the tiny trainers beam with excitement.

Gojo crouched down, letting Megumi and his friends dive into their candy bags. “Alright, who’s ready for a candy taste test? I’ll bet I can guess which ones are the sour ones just by looking at your faces!”

“Not a chance!” Yuji challenged, popping a gummy worm into his mouth and grimacing dramatically.

“Just wait until I catch you in my Poké Ball,” Gojo teased, his tone light and playful. “Then we’ll see who’s really on the menu.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at his audacity. “You’re terrible,” you said, giving him a playful shove.

—

As the night went on, laughter echoed in the crisp air, and the streets filled with excited shouts of “Trick or treat!” Megumi led the charge, his tiny Pikachu tail swaying with every enthusiastic step.

At one particularly decorated house, a creepy sound machine blared to life, and Nobara squealed, jumping closer to Yuji, who laughed and playfully pushed her away. 

Gojo, always one to lighten the mood, casually said, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the scary noises… and any wild Pokémon lurking around.”

You watched, heart full, as Gojo interacted with the kids, his teasing demeanour bringing joy to everyone around him. 

“Just remember,” he added with a wink, “if any Pokémon try to jump you, I can give you guys one of my Ultra Balls. They’re great for scaring off unwanted attention, but I’m not sure if Pokemon can even use Pokeballs…Y/n definitely knows how to use my balls though!”

“Gojo!” You exclaimed, laughter bubbling up as you realized he was slipping another cheeky joke in that would fly over the kids’ heads.

—

Eventually, as you made your way back home with bags full of treats and memories, Megumi stopped in his tracks and turned back towards you and Gojo, his voice ringing out, “This was the best-est Halloween ever! Thanks, Dad!”

Gojo’s heart swelled at the words, and he knelt down to Megumi's level, beaming with pride. 

“You were the cutest Pikachu out there! I’d say you’re a Pokémon master now,” he said, ruffling Megumi’s hair affectionately.

You watched the two of them, your heart melting at the bond they shared. 

“You really did amazing tonight, Megumi,” you added, stepping closer and giving him a playful poke in the side. “I think you collected more candy than anyone else!”

“Yeah, obviously!” He exclaimed, puffing out his chest proudly. “And next year, I’m going to dress as Charizard!”

“Charizard, huh? I can’t wait to see that!” Gojo laughed, his voice full of warmth. “But remember, you’ve got to practice your flying moves. I’ll help you!”

Megumi let out a small giggle before running ahead to walk alongside Nobara and Yuji, resuming their discussion on which Pokemon they should dress up as next year.

You and Gojo walked closely together, your fingers brushing against each other, the evening’s warmth wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

“So y/n… was that the best-est Halloween ever?” Gojo asked, glancing down at you with a soft smile, his usual cocky demeanour giving way to a moment of genuine sweetness.

“Definitely,” you replied, leaning into him as you both watched the kids chatter excitedly about their favourite candies. 

“Though I think you might have enjoyed it a little more than them.”

“Can you blame me? With such cute trainers by my side, how could I resist?” He smirked, leaning in closer, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek.

The night glimmered with the promise of many more adventures together, each one more magical than the last. 

And as you glanced at Megumi’s smiling face, you knew this was just the beginning of many happy memories.

[carolmunson]

“s’too hot to be doin’ this laundry ed,” you complain, holding your lower back while you get up from your seat to stand behind him. the fans above work overtime but the muggy air and hot sun have already settled in the light yellow painted laundromat. your sandals skid against the grimy tiled floor, your sun dress swooshing by your knees where there’s no breeze to blow against the sweat that had collected on the backs of your thighs. and it’s everywhere, dripping down your back, between your breasts. it’s too god damn hot.

“you wanted to come,” he shrugs, trying to hide his smirk, “i told you to stay home and lay down, you didn’t wanna listen.”

he folds the whites first on one of the folding stations — his work tanks and tees, socks and underwear, a few of your shirts and dresses. then the colors. hiding in the piles are a litter of onesies and coveralls, little pants and shirts, little socks that you’d lose if you blinked. all new stock from your baby shower a few days ago — as if this little creature didn’t already have enough clothes piling up in the closet you and eddie shared. you had to keep some of the clothes at wayne’s at this point.

“you promised chex mix,” you shrug, “even he’s excited for it.” you run a hand over your belly, firm and sitting low now that you’re closer and closer to your due date. you wished two months would fly by quicker but ed loved seeing you like this.

“i know what i promised, sweetheart,” he nods, loading the clothes up into laundry bags. he swats your hand away when you read for one, “how many times do i have to tell you?”

“i’m pregnant honey, m’not dying,” you laugh. he presses a kiss to your temple and then the apple of your cheek.

“i can carry them,” he assures, smiling, “just waddle to the car for me.”

you pout, a sad one, “that wasn’t nice.”

“i’m just kid— oh, oh no baby don’t cry, don’t cry baby i’m sorry,” he soothes while tears start to poor down your cheeks. he puts the bags down to hold you to him, his curls tickling your face.

“you think i’m huge,” you cry, “i’m huge.”

he tries not to laugh while peppering kisses over your face, “sweetheart you’re not huge, i don’t think you’re huge.”

“yes you do-oo-oo,” you sob, eddie offering the other patron in the laundromat a tight smile while they stare at the scene, “i’m huge and i’m sweaty and i’m hot and i just want my chex mix.”

“okay, okay,” he nods, holding your face in his hands. he nuzzles your nose with his while you start to calm down, “i’m gonna get you your chex mix.”

“and a cherry slush,” you say with a sniffle.

“and a cherry slush,” he chuckles, giving you a soft kiss, “what does the little guy want?”

you run your hand over your belly, both of you looking down while eddie puts his hand over yours. when his palm slides over the top the baby kicks, making you scrunch up your nose at the pressure.

“looks like he just wanted his daddy to say hi,” you say quietly while ed’s hand sits warm and firm. he looks up at you while the baby kicks again, his grin of excitement clear to anyone who might walk by and look in through the windows. he picks up the bags after stealing another kiss from you.

“okay princess. chex mix and cherry slush,” he says while you walk to the car. he walks slow so you can keep up, waddling in your sandals.

“and that cookies and cream hershey bar,” you add.

“and the cookies and cream hershey bar,” he repeats, “you bet.”

[tteotlma]

Dialed In

phone sex - foreplay - dystopian

Deadpool/Reader (3.3kw)

a/n: KINKTOBER DAY THREEEEEEE -- i wanna explore w more characters so if you have any suggestions let me know. i liked writing w deadpool (it was my first time)

tw: 18+ MDNI, sexual content, strong language, adult humor, dystopian themes, violence, phone sex, masturbation, graphic dirty talk, intimate photographs, crude humor, isolation, separation, anxiety

---

The world has currently gone to hell, overrun by rogue AI and corrupt government forces, forcing many to isolate and go into hiding. Being Wade’s “Sexy Pants Love Nugget” (as he likes to put it) comes with perks. When everything went to shit Wade made sure to keep you safe in some surprise underground bunker he had. 

“Oh, this?” Wade gestures around the bunker. “It’s my secret underground love lair.” He says turning to you. You only blink back at him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, fine,” he huffs, clearly upset you won’t play along, but he gets it—whole world potentially ending and everything. “But it is my secret underground lair. Every superhero—or, anti-hero, in my case—needs one. Sure, Batman has his cave, Tony Stark has his fancy mansion, but me,” he thumbs his chest with a grin. 

“I’ve got a bunker, baby. Way cooler.” He winks playfully, grabbing your hand and leading you to the slightly crusty-looking sofa pressed against the wall.

“People thought I was nuts, but I planned for this whole dystopian thing ages ago. Call it my ‘just-in-case-the-world-goes-to-shit-and-I-need-to-hide-out-with-my-favorite-person’ bunker.” He gestures toward the kitchen. “Stocked with essentials: Raisin Bran, chimichangas, and—wait for it—pajama onesies. We’ve got a blue unicorn, a white one, a purple one, and a whole collection of Hello Kitty undies. Oh! And the entire Golden Girls DVD box set,” he adds, pointing at a dresser stacked with DVDs and an old TV stand.

He then gestures proudly to the back wall, packed with an insane amount of weaponry. “We’ve got bean bags, grenades, Korth Super Sport Revolvers, Wilson Combat EDC X9s, Beretta 92FS Fusions…” 

“Okay, I get it—you’ve got a lot of guns, babe,” you cut in, scanning the dimly lit space. It's rough, but you can tell he tried to make it somewhat livable.

“Thank you! I could’ve gone on forever.” He drapes an arm around your shoulders and walks you over to an area closed off by a curtain. With a flourish, he pulls it back, and your heart melts. “I-it’s not exactly home, but…”

You see that Wade has recreated your shared bed from home—favorite blankets, pillows, and even the sheets you love so much. The walls are decorated with photos of the two of you, Polaroids capturing goofy selfies and candid moments.

“Wade, are those my tits?!” you screech, pointing at a very questionable Polaroid.

“Whoops! No idea how that got there,” he says, ripping it off the wall and shoving it into his back pocket. “Let’s replace it.” He grabs another photo and sticks it up—a shot of his bare dick. 

“Half-mast,” he says with a smirk, patting the photo. “So you don’t miss me when I’m gone.” With that, he dramatically flops onto the bed, blankets billowing up around him.

“What do you mean, ‘when you’re gone?’” you ask, your voice softening as you slide onto the bed next to him, immediately resting your head on his chest. His arm wraps around you instinctively, pulling you closer in that familiar, protective way. Beneath the layers of humor and bravado, there’s always been something deeper with Wade—something he doesn’t say out loud.

He hesitates for a moment, his usual playful banter faltering. “Oh, you know... just in case I have to run out and save the world or do something *really* heroic, like buying more chimichangas. Super serious stuff.” His voice lightens, but you can tell there’s more beneath the surface, the words left unsaid.

You gently trace your fingers over the zipper of his hoodie, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. “Wade...”

He sighs, the weight of the moment catching up to him. “Look, babe. We both know the world’s gone to hell. I mean, have you seen outside? It’s a total dumpster fire out there.” His fingers absentmindedly play with a strand of your hair as he talks. “And in my line of work, well, there’s a pretty high chance I’ll have to go out there, guns blazing, and… you know, maybe not come back. But don’t worry, I’ll leave you the last chimichanga. It’ll probably be stale, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to make light of the situation, but there’s a knot tightening in your chest. “You’re not going anywhere without me,” you mumble into his suit, holding him tighter. The idea of losing Wade, even in this chaotic, end-of-the-world scenario, is a thought you don’t want to entertain.

“Aw, babe, you know I’d never leave you behind. I mean, who else would make sure I don’t do something stupid like try to fight a sentient toaster again? You’re basically my safety net.” He grins, trying to break the tension, but his eyes give him away—there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable there.

The space around you, dimly lit by the flickering lights of the bunker, feels oddly intimate in this moment. You look around at the effort he’s put into this hideaway—the mismatched sheets that remind you of home, the Polaroids plastered on the walls, capturing your life together. Even the ridiculous weapons display on the far wall feels like an odd testament to how much he wants to protect you, how much he’s planned for every possible disaster.

“I didn’t just build this bunker for me, you know,” Wade murmurs, his voice unusually soft. “It was always about you. Us. I didn’t want to drag you into all my… crazy, but look at us now. Dystopian lovebirds, right?” He chuckles, but there’s a certain warmth behind his words.

You look up at him, meeting his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere. We’ll figure it out together—whatever ‘saving the world’ means today.” You reach up, cupping his face, feeling the rough texture of his skin beneath your fingertips, a reminder of all he’s been through. All the battles, the scars, and the fact that despite everything, he’s still here with you.

Wade gazes at you for a long moment, his usual bravado melting away as he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re too good for me, you know that?” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

You smirk. “Maybe. But you’ve got great taste in blankets,” you tease, pulling the fluffy fabric around you both, cocooning yourselves in warmth.

He chuckles, his arm tightening around you as he settles back into the pillows. “Damn straight. If the world’s gonna end, at least we’ll be cozy, right?” There’s a brief pause before he adds, almost as an afterthought, “Also, not to brag, but I do look fantastic in a unicorn onesie.”

You burst out laughing, the heaviness of the conversation lifting just a little, and Wade grins, clearly proud of himself for making you laugh.

“Okay, okay,” you say between giggles, “but seriously, we’re sticking together, right? No going off and playing hero without me.”

He nods, his expression softening as he strokes your hair. “You got it, babe. No solo hero gigs. We’re in this whole ‘dystopia survival’ thing together.” 

You let out a content sigh, resting your head back on his chest as his heartbeat thrums steadily beneath you. “Good,” you whisper, closing your eyes and savoring the moment of peace. Despite the world falling apart outside, in this little bunker, wrapped up with Wade, you feel safe.

“Besides,” he adds, his voice back to its usual playful tone, “how could I possibly leave when you’ve got a *killer* set of boobs and a healthy appreciation for my half-mast photos? I’d be an idiot.”

You groan, smacking his chest lightly, but you’re smiling, and that’s all Wade wants right now. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, but your heart is light again.

“And yet, you love me,” he quips, leaning down to kiss you on the top of your head. “So, unicorn onesie or Hello Kitty undies tomorrow? Gotta plan for our next ‘post-apocalyptic fashion show.’” You laugh but don’t say anything, instead just toying with the fabric on his chest. 

As you both lay there, wrapped up in the makeshift comfort of the bunker, the moment feels almost peaceful. But deep down, you know it’s only temporary. The world outside is falling apart, and Wade—despite all his jokes and deflections—has his part to play in it. 

“Hey, babe…” Wade’s voice cuts through the quiet, a note of seriousness creeping back in. “About that whole ‘not going anywhere without you’ thing?” His hand absentmindedly traces patterns on your back as he speaks.

You tense, instinctively knowing where this is going. You lift your head, looking up at him, your face inches from his. “Wade…”

“I know, I know,” he says quickly, trying to keep it light. “But, I gotta head out for a bit. You know, just a quick, heroic, ‘save the day’ kinda thing. Be back in a jiffy.” He tries to throw in a wink, but there’s something in his eyes that betrays the attempt at humor. 

“How long?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s hard not to feel the weight of the moment.

“Not long. A few days, tops,” he replies, sitting up and gently pulling you with him. “Just gotta check in with some ‘less friendly’ neighbors, make sure the whole ‘end of the world’ thing doesn’t get even worse.” His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

“You always have a plan,” you say with a half-smile, trying to sound reassuring.

“Damn right I do,” Wade grins, but it’s softer this time. He pulls you in for a kiss, lingering just a little longer than usual. When he pulls back, his eyes are serious again. “Hey, I’ll call. Every night. Promise.”

You nod, trying to push down the unease rising in your chest. “You better.”

He kisses you once more, then with a quick, exaggerated salute, he hops off the bed, grabbing his weapons and gear in a flurry of movement. “I’ll be back before you know it. Save me some of those Raisin Bran boxes, will ya? Don’t go hogging all the cereal.”

With one last glance back at you, he’s out the door, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bunker.

A Few Days Later

The first few days without Wade pass slowly, the silence in the bunker oppressive without his constant banter and chaos to fill it. You’ve been waiting for his calls, clinging to the brief moments of contact, even if all you get is his voice crackling over the speaker.

And then tonight—finally—your phone buzzes. You grab it immediately, heart skipping a beat when you see his name flash across the screen. You pick up, the sound of his voice instantly soothing the tension you didn’t realize you’d been carrying.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” he purrs through the line, his voice lower and rougher than usual. “Miss me?”

“Maybe a little,” you tease, leaning back against the pillows, letting the warmth of his voice wash over you. “How’s the whole ‘saving the world’ thing going?”

“Ugh, overrated. Lots of running, shooting, not nearly enough hot dog carts. But let’s not talk about that. What’re you wearing?” His voice dips into that playful, flirtatious tone, and you can practically hear the smirk through the phone.

“Wade,” you roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. “I’m literally in one of your Hello Kitty onesies.”

There’s a pause, then a low, appreciative whistle. “Now that’s a visual. Wish I could see it, babe.” His voice deepens, taking on that familiar, sultry edge. “But I guess we’ll have to get creative, huh?”

Your pulse quickens at the change in his tone, warmth spreading through you as the playful conversation takes a turn. “Oh yeah? What exactly do you have in mind, Wade?”

“Well,” he drawls slowly, “I may not be there in person, but I’m pretty sure I can still make you squirm. What do you say we have a little fun, babe? You, me, and a whole lot of imagination…”

The spark between you flares to life, and as his voice wraps around you, you find yourself sinking into the moment, ready to close the distance between you—if only for a little while.

Your heart races as Wade’s voice lingers on the line, playful yet dark, and you can already tell where this is headed. The tension between you two, even across a phone, is undeniable.

“So, babe,” Wade purrs, his voice low and suggestive, “tell me… are you touching yourself yet?”

You can’t help but laugh softly at his directness. “Already jumping to the good part, huh?”

“Well, time’s a-tickin’ and I’ve got bullets to dodge, but I always make time for you. Besides,” his tone dips, slow and deliberate, “if I were there right now, I’d already have my hands all over you.”

Your breath catches a little, the way he says it making your pulse quicken. You lean back against the pillows, the soft fabric of the onesie brushing against your skin, but your thoughts are far from the cute outfit.

“Oh yeah? What exactly would you do, Wade?” you ask, your voice dropping a little, wanting to draw out the game just a bit longer.

His low chuckle vibrates through the phone. “First, I’d unzip that onesie of yours, real slow, because damn, I bet you look so sexy in it. I’d start at the top, pull that zipper down until it’s just barely clinging to your shoulders. I wanna see that skin, baby.”

You bite your lip, following his lead, your fingers trailing down the zipper of the onesie just as he describes. The fabric parts, revealing your chest, and even though Wade isn’t here, the image he’s painting is so vivid, it feels like he is.

“Are you doing it?” he asks, his voice husky with need. “Tell me what you’re feeling, babe. I wanna hear you.”

“I am,” you murmur, your voice soft, already feeling your body respond to his words. “The onesie’s almost off… feels good.”

“Mmm, I bet it does,” Wade groans through the line. “Now slide that thing off your shoulders, let it fall down your arms. God, I wish I was there, helping you out of it. I’d be kissing every inch of that skin, so fucking slow.”

You slip the onesie off, letting it pool around your waist as your fingers graze your bare skin. The way Wade’s voice dips into that raw, hungry tone sends a thrill through you, and you close your eyes, imagining him there, hovering above you, his rough hands tracing over your body.

“Are you touching yourself yet?” His voice takes on that teasing lilt again. “I need details, babe. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Your hand moves instinctively, trailing over your breasts, feeling your skin warm under your own touch. “Yeah, Wade,” you whisper, your breath a little shaky. “I’m touching myself.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “You know what I’d be doing right now? I’d be right there, kissing your neck, working my way down to those perfect tits. I’d take my time, sucking on those nipples until you’re begging for more.”

A soft moan escapes you, and you know he heard it because his laughter on the other end of the line is thick with satisfaction. “There’s my girl,” he breathes. “God, I love making you squirm. Are you wet for me yet?”

Your body reacts to the words, the heat spreading through you. “Yeah… I am.”

“Good,” Wade says, his voice low and gravelly. “Now, slip your hand between those legs. I want you to touch yourself the way I would. Make it slow, babe. Imagine it’s my fingers on you, working you just the way you like it.”s

You do as he says, your hand slipping lower, your body already aching for more. His words, that deep, dirty tone, only fuel the fire burning inside you.

“Fuck, babe, you have no idea how bad I want to be there. I’d have you spread out on that bed, legs wide open for me. I’d start by teasing you, just like this… soft touches, barely there, making you crave it until you can’t take it anymore.”

Your breath hitches as your fingers move, mimicking his words, teasing yourself, and imagining his hands instead of yours. The tension coils tighter with each movement.

“Wade,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need, “I need more.”

“Oh, you need more?” His voice is all taunting pleasure. “You gotta tell me, babe. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want you inside me,” you breathe, the words slipping out before you can stop them, your body already on fire.

“Fuck,” he groans, and you can practically hear him adjusting himself on the other end of the line. “God, I’d slide into you so slow. You’d feel every inch of me, stretching you, filling you up. I’d make you scream my name, babe.”

You moan softly, your fingers pressing deeper, following the rhythm he’s setting, your mind lost in the fantasy of him inside you.

“You close, babe?” Wade’s voice is hoarse, filled with desire. “I wanna hear you come. I wanna hear you fall apart for me.”

You’re right on the edge, the heat pooling low in your belly, your body tightening with every stroke, every dirty word falling from his lips. “I’m so close,” you gasp, your voice breathless, trembling.

“Good girl,” he growls, his voice dark and commanding. “Come for me, baby. Let go. I wanna hear every fucking sound you make.”

And that’s all it takes. Your body shudders as the release washes over you, your moans filling the quiet of the bunker as you ride out the waves of pleasure, your fingers slowing, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Wade groans through the phone, clearly turned on by the sounds of your pleasure. “God, I wish I was there to see that. You’re so fucking sexy, babe.”

You lie there, spent and flushed, the heat still lingering in your veins, your chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of the orgasm. “Wade,” you murmur, smiling despite the exhaustion. “That was…”

“Epic? Mind-blowing? Something you’ll want to do again tomorrow night?” he offers with a chuckle, his tone lighter now but still thick with affection.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “All of the above.”

“Good,” he says, the smirk evident in his voice. “Now get some rest, babe. I’ll be back soon. And then we can pick up where we left off… in person.”

You can’t help but grin, already looking forward to it. “You better come back in one piece.”

“I’ll try my best,” he teases. “But if not, I’ll always have my half-mast pic to keep you company.”

“But you know I need more,” you tease, a playful edge in your voice.

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, then Wade’s voice drops, lower and rougher. “Oh, trust me, babe. When I get back, you’re getting all of me. No holding back.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart warming at the promise in his tone. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good,” he purrs, “because I plan on giving you a lot more than just pictures when I’m done here. Stay safe, babe. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Stay safe, Wade,” you reply softly, feeling the warmth of his words even through the distance.

“I will. Now get some sleep… and dream of me.” There’s a pause, followed by a mischievous laugh. “And maybe that half-mast pic.”

You laugh softly, feeling lighter despite the ache of him being away. “Goodnight, Wade.”

“Night, babe,” he says, his voice soft and sincere for a moment before the line goes quiet. “My Sweet Sexy Apocalypse Babycakes.”

As the phone call ends, you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, already counting down the hours until he returns. The world outside may be falling apart, but somehow, in moments like this, it feels a little less daunting.

---

a/n: i luv feedback (GIVE IT TO ME)

[ferrstappen]

the first one l Charles Leclerc imagine

a/n: so, I just KNOW Charles is a girl dad. I know three is his sweet spot, but idk if the boy would be the middle child or the youngest. what do you think? also, I'm working on requests and the collection pls trust me, but I'm a law student trying to hold my life together and not having a nervous breakdown every day <3

this first piece of dad!Charles is from this request <3

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader.

genre: dad!Charles, fluff.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, not proofread bc I don't have time for that shit.

summary: Charles tries to prepare to be the best dad for his daughter, even if she's just two days old.

It wasn't fun being heavily pregnant.

Yes, the illusion and excitement of a baby coming to complete your family was an emotion neither you nor Charles had the proper words to explain. Friends and even strangers affirmed it was going to be the most magical moment of your life, that you wouldn't even be able to imagine life before your daughter.

But that wasn't relevant now, it was the furthest thing on your mind, sleep being the only thing remotely important at the moment, and it didn't seem to come as a faint light was coming from the opposite side of the bed.

Charles was shirtless, probably cold while slightly propped on some pillows, reading something on his Kindle, a small frown noticeable between his brows. He clearly was very concentrated on whatever he was reading, the only thing that made his attention shift was the light groan you let out. Of course Charles' instantly put his attention on you, the muscles on his neck showing with the fast movement.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He asked you, his eyes fixed on your figure, very carefully placing his hand on your swollen belly.

"No, I'm not okay because I can't sleep and I have to sleep since your daughter is sucking every bit of energy and space left on my body, and to make matters worse, the light of your kindle makes it impossible to sleep," You said with a pettish tone, but Charles wasn't fazed, after almost nine months he was used to the mood swings. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm being such a bitch I'm sorry," and before you could stop, tears started streaming down your face, and that gained a reaction from Charles.

"No no no no, chérie. It's okay, it's just the hormones, it's fine," He carefully rubbed your swollen belly, feeling how the baby moved relentlessly. "Why do you move when mama is trying to sleep, mignonne?" Charles asked his unborn daughter, knowing with certainty she was listening to him.

"Because she's your daughter, why else?" You answered and he laughed, playfully rolling his eyes. "What are you reading in there, anyways?" This time you placed your hand on his hair, knowing Charles loved the little touches of affection.

He sheepishly smiled, "It's this book I found about pregnancy and the first weeks of the baby," he answered with a quiet tone, likely waiting for you to mock him.

Instead, fresh tears started streaming down your face, again. Sending Charles into a panic, again. "No no no no, chérie!"

✨✨✨✨

The apartment looked like a mess, the baby had arrived just two days earlier and didn't have time to even think about cleaning the extremely spacious penthouse overlooking the ocean, only focused on the little lilac bundle sleeping on her crib.

Since you left the hospital in the morning, where you asked for privacy and to not have any visitors, friends were constantly texting if now was a good time to visit you and the adorable newborn. You could've sworn every person in Monaco had made their way inside your family home.

First it was Carmen and George, with Alex and Lily, with a gorgeous bouquet of lilies for you, and carrying a large Zara kids bag with multiple cashmere onesies and clothes that would probably last a couple of weeks since, as Charles read on his book, babies grow up "very fast". Charles got a pat on the back.

Then followed Fred, with a huge basquet for both you and Charles, courtesy of the entire Ferrari team, and lots of small Ferrari merchandise.

Fred wasn't even out the door when Carlos and Isa quietly made their way inside, now with a bouquet of pink roses and a gorgeous and timeless Louis Vuitton baby blanket. Again, Charles received a pat on the back from Carlos as you carefully placed your daughter on Isa’s arms.

Charles had the biggest dark circles you’d ever seen under his eyes, and you probably looked worse, dealing with the recovery of your own body after giving birth. Right when you thought you could take a nap, Max, Lando, Kelly and Penelope arrived.

Of course they tried to make a statement, with multiple balloons, Gucci and Burberry bags for the baby. Of course Max was a natural holding her, cautiously kneeling for Penelope to see her. Lando nervously laughed and the only thing he was able to say was "she's so tiny", telling you he'd hold her when she was a little bigger.

It was almost 3 PM when Charles forced you to lay down, reminding you of the stages of healing after giving birth as he read in the book. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, waking up every ten minutes because, apparently, mother instincts didn't take very long to kick in. That's why you immediately woke up when you heard low voices, quickly recognizing the voices of your in-laws. Carefully getting up and trying to look presentable, you walked towards the nursery.

No one noticed you, both Arthur and Lorenzo enthralled by their niece while Pascale held her, whispering sweet nothings in French as her granddaughter placed her tiny hand around Pascale's thumb.

Then, Charles demeanor changed.

You could see it as soon as Pascale placed the baby in Arthur's arms. His back tensed and he stood straighter, instantly moving closer towards his younger brother.

"Arthur, you have to hold her head," Charles told off his brother, carefully placing Arthur's hand on the baby's head.

He still was standing closely and worried, hand on his chin while staring at his brother. "No, Arthur don't move your arm like that," Again, he fixed his brother's arm. "No, Arthur fix your stance, you need to hold her still," His breathing was getting faster and then he couldn't take it anymore.

Arthur was perfectly holding her, but Charles simply couldn't bare with the fact of his brother making a microscopic wrong move and something happening to his daughter, his mignonne, é carina.

"No, give her to me, you're doing everything wrong." Charles carefully took his daughter off Arthur's arms.

Ignoring Arthur's shocked face and Pascale's amused expression, everyone noticed how the baby nuzzled in her papa's arms, instantly yawning and moving her hands as if she was trying to reach him; Charles instantly relaxed, feeling her against his chest and knowing she was okay because she was with him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I think he's kind of overprotective," You said entering the room. Pascale immediately approached you, asking how you were feeling and how much pain you were in.

"Poor her, honestly. She's doomed to have Charles as her shadow forever, she won't be able to go to school or anything!" Lorenzo chimed in, making everyone laugh, except for Charles of course.

"You haven't told us her name! We've been calling her mini (Y/N)," Arthur asked, admiring his niece from afar.

The only reason Charles lifted his gaze was to find your eyes, which you took as the cue to take your place next to your family, resting your head on Charles' shoulder.

"Josephine. We are still thinking about the second, we're seeing if Jules fits," You announced, Charles giving a bright smile to his family.

"I'm thinking of Josephine Sofia Jules Gia Leclerc," Charles said. Everyone in the room looked at each other with curiosity.

"She is not having four names, Charles!" The answer came quickly from you, the tone revealing this wasn't the first time it was discussed.

"Okay then, three?"

Josephine, that's what's clear.

[peachesofteal]

Light on -single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt(s): fire alarm, reader backstory, reader cooks for Simon, requested by multiple.

The chair at your kitchen table is small. 

It’s so small, he’s half afraid he might break it, the rickety wood creaking under his weight, and he shifts, leaning back to test its ability, hoping it won’t give way on him. The wood makes a louder groaning sound, and your voice carries from the hall, half of a jest in your tone. 

“Are you trying to break my furniture?” Shit. 

“No.” He shoots to his feet, patting the little wooden chair like he’s trying to comfort it, embarrassed that he’d been caught. “Jus’ trying to test it, make sure it’s not gonna collapse on me.” 

You have an eyebrow raised, returning from your bedroom with a pajama clad Emmaline, little red onesie dotted with deer, your hand patting her back firmly and bouncing her in your arms at the same time, her little brow furrowed like she’s irritated with you. 

“It’s fine. I’m just kidding.” You look down at her and sigh. “Are you going to let me put you down so I can finish dinner?” 

“I can take her.” He offers, and you flash him a relieved smile. 

“Hear that?” You hum in her ear, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Your favorite person wants to hang out with you.” His stomach clenches. 

“Come here baby girl. Let’s let mum have a break, yeah?” He reaches, and you bend down to place her in his arms, the smell of your skin, your hair, the scent of your laundry detergent flooding his senses. Emmaline is so small in his hands, but he’s growing more comfortable holding her, and when she settles against him easily, he can’t help the warmth that flares in his heart, overflowing through his body with pride, and… something else. Something strong. Something he thinks he knows the name of, but is too afraid to voice. Something that has him dreaming about giving you his last name, giving it to Emmaline too, tacking Riley onto the end of both you, as a stamp, a seal, a promise.

“She still needs to burp.” You tell him softly, pulling the cloth from your shoulder and arranging it onto his, fingers lingering when you smooth it out. “Do you know-“ 

“Yeah.” He assures, swiftly, and you smile again, hand brushing against his when you give her on last little pat on her back. 

“Okay. I’ll work on dinner then.” 

“You ah- don’t have to keep feeding me.” He tells you, even though the full plate of pot roast with stewed carrots, potatoes, and gravy makes his mouth water, massive portion settled in front of him like you’re trying to make sure he’s never hungry again. 

What a good girl, he muses indulgently. Good little mum. Good little wife. Emmaline coos in his arms, still awake, settled on his knee with her back to his stomach, one hand firm around her tummy. He bounces her, one hand with a fork stabbing into a carrot, the other holding her steady. Safely. 

“I can take her, if you want to-“ 

“No. You sit.” He inclines his head, and you blink, before automatically folding into the chair diagonal from him with your own plate. The room is quiet, fork chiming against china, until you speak again. 

“I don’t mind it.” You swallow, taking a long sip of water. “Cooking. For you.” You whisper it to your plate, like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, and he tamps down the urge to reach for you. “You do so much for us, you’ve- I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re mine now, sweetheart. You don’t have to repay me. It’s my job to take care of you. Take care of you both. It almost all comes out of his mouth, but instead he changes hands on the baby, putting his fork down and extending the one closest to you, palm open on the table, a gentle entreaty. 

“I don’t mind, helping. Someone’s gotta take care of you girls.” Your eyes go wide, lips parting, before you’re collecting yourself, looking down into your lap with a stunned little smile. “Sweetheart, I-“ 

The words are robbed from him, stolen by a screeching, blaring noise in the hallway, a high-pitched alarm that has him out of the chair, shoving the table with one hand and positioning himself between the door and you, curled over Emmaline who’s now crying, startled. 

“Fire alarm.” You wince, but when he doesn’t relax, your expression goes waxy, soothing, and your hand finds the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a fire alarm, Simon. People fuck with the pull station now and then. Probably nothing.” It takes a second, a second too long for his brain to catch up, and when it does, he blanches, looking you over for fear, repulsion, of him. Distaste of the secondhand reaction that he just cannot control. 

He doesn’t find it. Only blithe acceptance. Understanding. He clears his throat. “Let’s get outside then.” 

It’s cold outside. Winter is in full swing, and he’s happy he forced you into your winter jacket when did, amid your distraction, too pre-occupied with wrestling a screaming Emmaline into her coat and hat, swaddling her up in a fluffy blanket before you even stopped to think about yourself. 

“It won’t be long.” You tell him, alternating between trying to soothe the baby’s frantic tears, and looking around anxiously. “Station seventy-four is just a few blocks north.” Station seventy-four? “Look, see?” You point, cooing at Emma, red emergency lights flashing down the street. You stray closer to him, pressing into his side, and he puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. You’re… nervous, and he’s not sure why. The fire alarm didn’t seem to rattle you too much but now, you’re chewing on your lip, eyes scanning across the people milling about outside. 

“You alright?” He murmurs, and you nod. 

“Just cold.” You reply through clenched teeth. 

It doesn’t take long for the fire service to get the building sorted, and once they give the all clear, you break from his side, beelining towards the front of the building. He’s about to jog after you, surprised at the pace that you've managed to make, when he hears someone calling your name. Practically yelling it, and he pulls up short.

It's a firefighter. He approaches you with an open palm, like he's trying to corner a wounded animal, and your face pinches at the corners, hand cradling the back of Emmaline's head. Simon inches closer, getting within ear shot, using the dark and the people still scattered about to sink into shadow, becoming Ghost, silent, unnoticed, and lethal. Nearly unseen.

"-are you?" The firefighter asks, staring at the baby in your arms with wide eyes.

"I'm fine. We're fine." You reply stiffly, looking away with a grim, haunted expression.

"You never come down to the station... we'd- we'd love to see you both. Or if you ever needed anything, we're here for you. We-"

"Thanks." you cut him off, trying to turn away, but he steps after you, protesting.

"I know it doesn't-"

"Officer." An older man interrupts, sharply, and the younger firefighter straightens.

"Captain."

"You're needed for system reset." He instructs, and the officer takes one last look at you, something conflicted in his face, before nodding and stepping away. "He's not wrong." The Captain tells you gently, and you shake your head.

"We don't need anything from you."

"You need community. Support. The station is a family, we look after our own."

"I'm not your own." You snap. "He was! He was your own. And how well did you look after him, Captain?" The words are vicious, pointed like arrows, seeking to maim, to hurt, and the look on your face is so anguished, so tormented, that Simon can't stand to see it for one more second.

"Everything alright?" He steps between you and the Captain, positioning his body so that you're half hidden, and your shoulders immediately slump, tension draining from you when you look up into his face.

"Yeah, let's go inside. It's too cold out." You tell him, and he nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at the frowning man, letting his hand slide over your shoulder and down your spine, directing you inside and keeping you close.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again once you're in the hallway outside your door, and you turn into him, close enough that he can lean his nose down to skim through your hair.

"I'm okay." You whisper, fingers finding his at his hip. "We're okay."

[teaboot]

Batman? As in extended batman universe, specifically batman, or movies batman? I'm going to die from the hilarity of /accidentally/ following another batman fan. Generally it's on purpose lol

I was actually absorbed into the Fandom by osmosis before I even touched any of the Canon material

Even now I've only seen the Affleck movies and the Battinson one, plus a couple cartoons and like. Four comics out of order

With next to zero evidence tho I have decided that

Dick Grayson has Eldest Daughter syndrome that, speaking as an Eldest Daughter (tm) really should be addressed in the lore somewhere before he goes on a drunken bender, gets a tramp stamp, kills a man, and has a full-on mental breakdown when the Repression Dam breaks

Stephany Brown radiates "angry teen girl needs a hug" energy imo but I feel like she might break my arms? I don't know anything about her except her dad sucks but honestly same boat, would hang

Timothy Drake cannot be the helpless boohoo I see a lot of, but somehow the cool, collected, hypercompentant, übermensch-tweenybopper look is kinda sadder, like seeing a twelve year old buying groceries at the store by themselves. I want to send his ass to normal kid summer camp

I don't know pretty much anything about Duke Thomas except that he's a meta whose parents might be alive but crazy. I can only conclude that he suffers from Black Character White Fandom syndrome. I headcanon that he had an embarrassing weeb phase in middle school because he feels like the kind of kid Who'd have gone through a phase of saying "ohaio" with peace signs as a baby tween. I have no evidence to support this

Cassandra Cain might be my favourite. I think she deserves to go on an angry, irrational rampage or two, as a treat. Aggretsuko vibes that I cannot explain. I bet her favourite colour is purple

Jason Todd is my guilty comfort character and I refuse to believe he kicked the shit out of a fifteen year old while wearing a legless adult onesie. I refuse. Also yeah as a huge angry-kid-book-nerd there is no way that pride and prejudice was his number one fave, my money is on the Percy Jackson series but that could just be me projecting

Damian Wayne is Autistic, personal subscription. Because I am too and I said so. Reminds me of my baby brother, but crankier. Like a tiny old man who doesn't want to be at bingo with the other folks at the senior center.

I feel like Alfred should be allowed to be wrong about something sometimes but I still love him. Give that grandpa a gun

Bruce Wayne strikes me as a man who should have put a lot more thought and study and personal therapy consults into the idea of adopting multiple highly capable highly traumatized children he's never met before before but fuck pobody's nerfect am I right. Bisexual

[folklorespring]

I often think about Hlodan family. Please take a moment to learn about them.

On April 23, 2022, on Easter Eve, russian missile hit the Tiras residential complex in Odesa, Ukraine. Eight people were killed, including Yurii's family - his wife Valeriia, three-month-old daughter Kira and mother-in-law Liudmyla. Yurii survived, because at the moment he went to the shop.

Look at baby Kira's tiny pink hat. Cute little onesie. That baby was so wanted and loved. Mother's post on Facebook form February says "These were the best 40 weeks ever. Our girl is 1 month old now. Daddy got her her first flowers. It's a whole new level of happiness".

Yurii donated diapers, one of the few things he could find in destroyed apartment, to the charity. He also took photo albums, his wife's collection of sugar packets, handwritten notes.

Yurii spoke about his wife very lovingly and tenderly: "Her ability to communicate with different people, to understand people, the way she knew how to talk, how beautifully she wrote... You can’t even imagine how she wrote! And what kind of mother she was... You can’t even imagine! This is a mother, this is a friend, this is a daughter - with the best qualities... I simply cannot find another person like her. Person like this can only be given by God once".

After losing his family, Yurii decided to join the ranks of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. On 5 November, 2023, his colleague Oleksandr Yakovenko reported that Yurii was killed at the front. The whole family is gone.

[imababblekat]

Taking Care Of Baby Mutant Turtle W/ Donnie; Hc's

@valen-yamyam16 ,"hello how are you? I hope you're well, for days I have the idea of ​​the f!reader with donatello taking care of a mutant baby turtle that they rescued from the TCRI or something like that donie and reader can be two fools in love who haven't confessed yet. Hehe(also I imagine the newborn baby maybe 2 weeks old,and I don't know if you want the others to interact with the baby?)"

~xXx~

first off, the tiny tike for a reason unknown to anyone, is that they only seem to stay calm when Donnie and you are in the same room, but you BOTH have to be there! No exceptions!

it's like they know on some cosmic level that you two like each other, and are trying to get you both to hook up by playing some pseudo game of house

Mikey once joked that they're like you're little cherub, and you couldn't have shoved a pillow fast enough over his face to stop him from blurting your crush on his brother to the world

Donnie on the other hand thinks it's some kind of taunting joke the universe is playing on him for all the endless pinning he's felt towards you

but if anyone ask, he uses science as an excuse, saying that the baby mutant most likely imprinted on you and him as you both were the first to find them in a TCRI lab

Whatever the case is, you two work as a team to care for the little one

Donnie does everything he can to make sure they’re at optimum health, and you help with that by providing nutritional foods

They might be mutant, but no way are they starting life off on just pizza!

You learn so much about turtle health from Donnie, and he ends up learning a lot about taking care of children from your own experiences with human kids

Donatello gets extremely excited about picking out clothes for them, and you find his excitement very adorable

Part of you wonders if it’s because he didn’t get to have much of that option growing up, and so have no qualm with indulging in buying cute articles of clothes that your closest friend picks out for your little one

Donnie nearly dies when you two show up in matching onesies, and just about ascended to a different realm entirely when you present him with one as well, hand crafted by your own hands!

that baby is the safest baby in the world you best believe!!

not only do they have three amazing uncles and super bad ass grandpa, but neither you or Donnie would ever let any harm come to that child

Since the baby turt is so attached to you, everyone thought it best you live with the brothers and Master Splinter for the time being

This leads to many nights falling asleep in the lab or Donnie’s room since the small bab really wants to be near him as well

Just like with the four brothers Master Splinter collects baby pictures of the newest addition to the family

His favorite by far is one he took of Donnie and you huddled together next to a makeshift crib with the baby being cradled by you both, each one of you fast asleep in the others embrace

~xXx~

[multifandomgirl08]

From Three to Four [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Reader tells Max that your expecting, he doesn't have the best reaction at first.

Warning(s): Slight angst, Flashback to four months before

A/N: This one is a little shorter then normal. It's set before the third social media posts of The Verstappens but takes place before Stones To Throw At My Creator.

Words: 1.6k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

You had suspected before you had been sure. There were no signs that you could be pregnant other than the obvious. Making the appointment was the most nerve-wracking thing. Waiting for the results was stressful, but the confirmation took a bit of the pressure off.

You stared at the sonogram pictures again before placing them back in your bag.

You heard Max coming up the stairs into the kitchen where you had been waiting for him to see the box that you had left for him.

“What’s this?” Max asked picking up the wrapped box.

“Open it,” Your eyes rested on Max to see his reaction to what was in the box.

He ripped into the wrapping paper and pulled the top off the box before seeing a little Red Bull onesie. You had taken the time to go online and order one as soon as your test results had come back from your doctor.

Max was quick to drop the box and the onesie on the kitchen counter.

“I..” Max tried to get out. His expression was too blank for your liking. “I wasn't expecting this.”

"I know that it's sooner than what we talked about." You immediately said.

"I just… didn't think that we'd have them so soon." He looked so lost.

You and Max had talked about waiting for a year or two before the possibility of trying for a baby. He had just won a fourth world title and was in pursuit of a fifth, you understood that.

January 10, 2025 - Saint-Jean Cap Ferret, France

From the moment that you had woken up that morning, you had been unpacking boxes. You started in the kitchen having finished putting the last of the cups and dishes away just before Nico had come in asking about lunch.

You had made him a sandwich and taken a few bites of the leftovers from dinner yesterday because you didn’t feel like cooking after putting all of the pots and pans away.

Max had been in one of the spare bedrooms getting his racing sim all setup. It had been the last thing that had been packed and moved and unfortunately for Max, it was the last thing that was brought into the house after all of the furniture. He wasn’t happy about it sitting in the garage for a week.

After eating, you had finally gotten to the boxes that lined the built-in bookshelves that would house Max’s ever-growing collection of trophies. You were down to the last two boxes when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the lower part of the house.

Looking over, you saw Max come into the kitchen and take a Red Bull out of the fridge. You glanced back down at the trophy in your hands, seeing the little plaque on it, the words Spain 2016 on it.

You heard the clang of the Red Bull can against the marble of the kitchen counter.

"Mijn leeuwin?" You heard Max turning your head towards him.

His hands went to your hips pulling you back against his chest. "What are you thinking about?"

You lightly shook your head. The more that you unpacked things, you couldn't help but think of the possibility of having kids with Max. He was such a good dad to Nico, and you knew that you eventually wanted to give Max more kids.

"Tell me." He whispered into your ear. That was always his way of getting you to tell him things when you didn't feel like you could.

You turned in his arms to look at him, "What do you think about Nico eventually getting a sibling?"

“Checo and Daniel had asked me this." You hadn't realized that Max was already thinking of the possibility of you getting pregnant.

“And…” You wanted to know what Max thought about this. Sure, you would be the one to have the baby but you wanted to make sure that you were both on the same page about when would be a good time.

“And I told them that one day we would have more but not now.”

You nodded along with Max’s words. He was right, one day you would have more kids, but it didn’t make sense for it to be now. You had just moved, and the wedding was in less than a month. Any children could wait until after.

“Maybe in a year or two?” You asked.

“Maybe,” Max said before pulling the trophy from your hands and placing it on one of the empty shelves.

“For now,” He pulled you into his arms. “I want to enjoy all the free practice that I can.”

“Yeah?” You asked. He quickly nodded back as you let yourself melt into his arms.

He took your hand pulling you away from the boxes towards the master bedroom, getting a small practice session in before you had to start dinner.

It seemed like life or fate, whichever one had different plans for you. 

You walked closer to him pressing yourself up against his chest, trying to ground him back to you. It didn't take long for him to place his arms around your waist, his hands not traveling down to your hips like they normally would.

“What’s going on Max?” You asked. You weren’t sure why he was having this reaction. Whenever you had talked about having kids before he seemed excited. He didn’t seem that way now.

“I… I, just. I wasn’t there when Nico was born or with my ex when she was pregnant with him.”

Max had never referred to his ex as Nico’s mother. You had accepted that she was just the woman that gave birth to him. That had been easy to accept when you had found out that she had given up her parental rights to him. When you signed the adoption paperwork, something settle inside of you.

“Max,” You reached for his hand to place it on your lower abdomen. You could feel the strain in his hand, he wanted to pull away. “Max,” You started again. “You’re already a great father to Nico.”

“It’s not that. I thought that the first time that you would get pregnant I wouldn’t be driving anymore. I could be home and experience all of it this time around.” Everytime that you and Max had talked about him retiring, it had always seemed like he intended to finish his current contract with Red Bull before that happened.

“Max there is nothing stopping you from driving and us having more kids.” You offered up.

You moved your hands up to Max’s neck, pulling his head down to meet yours.

“You have done everything right by Nico since the day that he’s come into your life. Moving around your schedule so that you can be there for his first day of school, putting off an endorsement deal so that you would be there the day that he started karting.” Max finally looked down at you as you kept talking. “You have been there for all the major moments of his life, spending every moment that you can with him. Besides your not going to want to spend every moment of this pregnancy with me when I’m hormonal and get emotional for no reason.”

Max broke out in a laugh at your last sentence before he started to nod.

“You are an amazing father, this baby is going to be lucky to be raised by you.” You reached up to cup his cheek.

“Really?” He asked with baited breath.

You nodded. You could feel Max’s hands go lax under the fabric of your clothes, his fingertips just lightly tracing over the non-existent bump.

“That means no more free practice.” He muttered as he pulled away a little.

You laughed, “Free practice ended when we got back from the honeymoon.”

Max was fast on the track but it took a little longer for your body to give you those signs.

Your and Max's honeymoon had been two weeks, spending the first week in The Bahamas before flying back home and christening the new house.

Nico had spent time with Sophie, Victoria, and his cousins back in Belgium before they all flew out to see the house.

Your time alone with Max had been nice, just the two of you sleeping in before Max would go and sit on the sim for a few hours. You would eventually get up and make yourself a coffee and something that resembled breakfast before pulling him off the sim and back into bed for a while.

You hadn't been trying to get pregnant, but birth control only did so much.

“I don’t know how Nico is going to feel now that he won’t be getting all of the attention,” Max said leaning his back against the kitchen counter.

"I'm sure he'll find a way to get our attention. He is related to you after all."

“Doesn’t mean that he hasn’t picked up things from you as well.”

Nico had started picking up things that you would do, from the way that you would use certain words in a sentence, to how he would mimic you when you were doing something around the house. In those moments, you felt the most like his mother.

You couldn’t wait for this baby to be a part of such a loving family.

“You want to call your mom and Victoria and tell them, or should I?” You asked.

Max lightly groaned before dropping his head to your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair before feeling his head come up off your shoulder.

"Tomorrow?" He asked. You nodded back before noticing Max's eyes drop to your abdomen, his large hands not leaving your sides until Nico had come into the kitchen.

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 15

Double Prompt: "What are you wearing?" / "It's Laundry day!" + "Yes. No. Maybe."

Pairing: Steve Rogers (Captain America) x Reader

Warning/Tags: FLUFF, allusions to sex/innuendo at the very end, established relationship, petnames (sweetheart)

Summary: It's laundry day and you whip out your handy cosy outfit you wear when Steve isn't around. However, Steve comes home early...

Word count: 879 words

A/N: Hello! I am currently in Wales for the week so my future posts will be via mobile rip I've just had a 6.5 hour drive I am not ok

also, this one is inspired by the fact I have one of these <3- Love, Grem x

Prev | Next | Masterlist

How you'd managed it, you never knew.

Keeping an item of clothing expertly hidden away from your boyfriend to save yourself an embarrassing conversation was nothing short of a miracle in your shared apartment. However, when Steve Rogers was busy playing Captain America elsewhere in the world, it came out. Especially on cold days such as this and when there were no clean clothes (who are we kidding ? Pyjamas) left to wear.

Today was laundry day and Steve was away on a mission. Which meant one thing; out came The One.

You waddled to the kitchen grasping the overflowing washing basket, dumping it unceremoniously into the middle of the kitchen to better pile the washing. Four distinct piles later (whites, colours, darks and delicates), the first load of washing went on. You stood and watched the machine grumble to life, slowly pushing the clothes in lazy circles. With a heavy sigh you padded back into the bedroom and began the tedious task of stripping the bedding.

A simple pleasure in life was clean sheets. Soft, clean cotton smelling like it had been dragged through a field of spring flowers made the effort of stripping and re-assembling the sheets worth it. Even if they wouldn't stay clean for very long. Regardless, your boyfriend would be appreciative (if he noticed before he collapsed into the bed as per usual after a long mission).

Bedding stripped, and feeling slightly sweaty, you headed back to the kitchen to make yourself a drink. You wondered about Steve and how his mission was going as you idly sipped at your glass. Long missions were always a pain since Steve couldn't talk at regular times, meaning you were often left wondering what kind of state he was in. Though, worrying yourself silly wasn't an option.

Shaking your head trying to rid yourself of thoughts of your blue-eyed, blond bombshell, you pulled out your phone and started up your cleaning playlist. You may as well continue to be productive after all! First, kitchen counters were wiped down with swaying hips. Then, the fridge was deep-cleaned with off-key singing. Then the trash taken out and so on, to the sound of your off-key voice and occasional dance move.

By the time you'd snuck back into the apartment (after dodging your nosy elderly neighbour near the stairs) the washing was done. Bending down to collect the damp laundry and belting out lyrics to a timeless tune of ABBA's, a familiar voice spoke. Startled you drop the clean clothes with a squeak, spinning to see who had entered.

"What are you wearing?" Steve chuckled from the kitchen doorway. He was dressed casually in T-shirt and jeans, holding his kit bag. He had come back from his mission early.

He had come back from the mission early.

" I –" You begin realising you had been caught red-handed and red-faced. " It's laundry day!" You say, two octaves higher than you wanted.

Steve bites back a grin as he looks at you stood in the middle of your kitchen in a Captain America onesie. It was the retro costume, bright cerulean blue, red and white. There was even a hood with the wings embroidered on. Not to mention the zipper that was his shield. It was too big for you but you looked cosy and cute.

"Okay..." Steve finally says slowly, raising an eyebrow as you cover your face. You're too cute. "Have you been hiding this from me, Sweetheart?"

You shuffle your feet. You wanted to combust on the spot. You wore an arguably cuter version of your boyfriend’s damn costume and he's found you in it.

"Yes. No... Maybe." You mumble from behind your hands. "I didn't know you'd be home so soon."

"Thought I'd surprise you." You can hear the smirk in Steve's voice and it only makes you feel more flustered. "Looks like you beat me to it."

"I can explain," You say quickly but as you move your hands away you can see that Steve is chuckling at you. Your heart hammers as embarrassment flushes your cheeks. You sigh, defeated, and give him a quivering, embarrassed smile.

Steve drops his bag and strides forward, wrapping his strong arms around you and kissing the top of your head.

"You look amazing as always." He teases.

"Shut up." The feigned huff of annoyance isn't lost on Steve and it only makes him smile wider.

"I mean it," He leans back to look down at you with his goofy grin. He gently brushes a wisp of hair out of your eyes. "This is a nice surprise to come home to.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight, resting your head against his chest. "Har har, very funny." You look up at him and feel yourself grinning. "I'm glad you're home."

"Glad to be home... but aren't you hot in that?" Steve's brows furrow at you. The material is plush and thick, there's no way you wouldn't be boiling. Steve fiddles with the shield zipper between his fingers, wondering where did you buy this from.

"I uh..." You give him a sheepish smile. "Only have underwear on underneath."

Steve eyebrows shoot up and he gives you a playful grin. "Oh, this is definitely better than my suit."

[desmorotu]

Rapid Redacted Headcannons

autistic david

asher vapes (fave flavor is watermelon)

darlin prefers cigs ^ 🙅

asexual gav (IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS)

asexual freelancer (^^^)

AUTISTIC BAAABE (they never get any love and I FUCKING LOVE THEM)

asher and babe have a matching collection of the jack skellington onesies from walmart

treasure has a resemblance to someone that porter knew before their lifetime and that’s why he was drawn to them so quickly

angel is jealous of the relationship that david had with his father because they grew up in an emotionally abusive household (projecting)

arospec damien <3 (projecting)

lasko has a tongue piercing

milo has deepset eyes and naturally dark circles. bro looks like he never sleeps.

morgan’s favorite article of clothing is a brown sweater

blake is a natural blonde but dyes his hair to be darker. his roots have been growing in bc of all the shit going on so he looks crazy rn

avior has grey streaks in his hair

asher has gauges (0g)

vincent has a little heart tattoo on his hip bone !!!

anton has an uneven smile and a small scar across his bottom lip because he has unnaturally sharp canines and accidentally bit through it when he tripped once as a kid

honey has chunky highlights

@luckyit13 🧚‍♂️🧚‍♀️🧚