#she has her moms face but her dads coloring

[bodyswap005]

"Borrowed Bodies, Reunited Lives".

Dylan’s Perspective:

I always thought a cruise vacation would be perfect: the sun, the sea, and the chance to disconnect from everything. But when your only travel companions are your parents, who can barely spend a minute together without arguing, the idea loses its charm. So, when my parents announced we’d be spending the holidays sailing to Miami, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and frustration.

They are Ethan and Susan, the perfect representation of a marriage that has lost its way. They argue about everything, from which channel to watch on TV to how to park the car. They never agree, and being in the middle of their endless arguments is a place I’d rather not be. That’s why the idea of spending weeks locked on a ship with them seemed more like a punishment than a break.

If only I could bring Alex and Joshua, my best friends from the gym, things would be different. They’re like my older brothers, always with advice, jokes, and that camaraderie that only forms between those who share long training sessions and complaints about the same exercise machines. Alex is more reserved, but he has a sarcastic sense of humor that always makes me smile, while Joshua is the extrovert of the group, capable of lighting up any room with his energy.

Of course, bringing them along was an impossible dream. My parents would never allow it, and they certainly couldn’t afford it. But sometimes, even the most unlikely things have a strange way of coming true.

One afternoon, as I was walking back from the gym, I saw an elderly woman trying to lift a heavy bag off the sidewalk. I stopped to help her; I didn’t think much of it, it just seemed like the right thing to do. When the woman thanked me, she looked at me with eyes that seemed to pierce through me and said something strange:

—Make a wish, young man. A real one.

I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was some kind of game or joke, but in the end, I said the first thing that came to mind:

—I wish my friends could come with me on the cruise.

The old woman smiled, murmured something I didn’t understand, and walked away. I didn’t dwell on it, although that night I couldn’t help but think about her words.

The day of departure arrived, and as expected, nothing extraordinary happened. Alex and Joshua weren’t there. Everything was the same: my parents arguing, me wishing I wasn’t there. Until, suddenly, things started to get strange.

As the ship set sail, I noticed my parents weren’t just arguing, their voices sounded completely out of place. My dad let out a rude “What the hell am I doing here?”, while my mom muttered a “No way, dude!”. They both looked at me with a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

Then my phone rang. It was Alex. Or at least, that’s what the screen said. I answered, and what I heard on the other end froze me. It was my dad. Or rather, his voice, saying something completely absurd:

—Dylan, it’s me! I’m your dad.

And just like that, my cruise adventure, which already promised to be uncomfortable, took a turn I never could have imagined, even in my worst nightmares.

Ethan and Susan Perspective:

Ethan woke up startled in a place he didn’t recognize. The room was small, with dull-colored walls, barely lit by a beam of sunlight filtering through the curtains. He brought a hand to his face and felt something strange: his beard was gone.

When he looked down, the shock was even greater. This wasn’t his body. His torso was strong, defined, and his hands, large and youthful, weren’t the ones he remembered.

—What the hell is going on?!—he shouted, jumping up.

On the other side of the room, someone else moved. Susan, or at least what should have been Susan, slowly sat up from a single bed. But instead of her slender figure, it was the body of a muscular young man with messy hair and a bewildered expression.

—What happened to me?—Susan asked, touching her face with hands larger than she expected. Then she looked at the mirror in front of her, and a scream escaped her mouth—It can’t be!

Ethan staggered slightly as he approached, trying to control his movements. He looked at both their reflections and confirmed the impossible: he was in Joshua’s body, one of Dylan’s friends, and Susan was in Alex’s.

—This has to be a nightmare���—Ethan said, running a hand through his short hair.

—This isn’t real!—Susan screamed, touching her arms and chest, feeling the muscles now belonging to her. Her gaze was filled with horror—This can’t be real!

At that moment, Susan’s phone—or rather Alex’s, which was in the pocket of her pants—began to ring. They both looked at each other, uncertain. Ethan took the phone and answered.

—Hello?

On the other end of the line, Dylan answered immediately, his tone filled with panic:

—Dad… it’s me.

Ethan squinted.

—Dylan? What’s going on?

—Dad, mom…—Dylan stammered, trying to explain while listening to Alex (now in Ethan’s body) argue with someone in the background—I think… I think you switched bodies with Alex and Joshua.

Susan, who had been listening from across the room, quickly approached.

—What did you do, Dylan?—she asked with Alex’s deep voice, snatching the phone from Ethan—What did you do?!

—I… I didn’t know this was going to happen—Dylan defended himself, his voice full of guilt—I helped an old woman, and she told me she’d grant me a wish. I just asked for Alex and Joshua to come on the cruise with me.

Ethan huffed, snatching the phone back.

—An old woman?! What kind of joke is this?

—It’s not a joke, dad—Dylan replied—This is real, but… I don’t know how to fix it.

—Of course you don’t!—Susan growled from the back, crossing her arms—We’re stuck in the bodies of two guys we barely know!

—Please, just calm down. We need to think…—Dylan tried to say, but his voice sounded weak, even to himself.

—Calm down?—Susan screamed—We lost our cruise, our lives, everything!

Ethan sighed deeply, trying to remain calm, even though his hands were trembling.

—Listen, Dylan. For now, we’ll look for that old woman, if she even exists. You stay on the cruise and try to keep those two idiots under control.

Dylan swallowed hard.

—Got it.

Ethan hung up and placed the phone on the bed, his expression hardened.

—This can’t be permanent, right?—Susan asked quietly, though she knew no one had the answer.

Ethan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at his new arms, so strong that it almost seemed like a joke.

—While we figure out how to reverse this… I think we should make the most of this vacation.

Susan glared at him.

—Make the most of it? Ethan, we’re in the bodies of strangers!

—I know, but we can’t just sit around feeling sorry for ourselves—he said, though a nervous smile crossed his face as he flexed his arms—I never had muscles like this…

Susan ran a hand over her face, frustrated.

—Maybe this is a sign—she murmured, more to herself than to him—A lesson for us.

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

—A lesson?

—To solve our problems… as a couple.

Ethan let out a snort but didn’t argue. Though they both knew that the only thing they could agree on was finding that old woman and returning to their lives as quickly as possible.

In the city, Ethan and Susan walked down a narrow alley, following the coordinates Dylan had provided over the phone. However, the place was empty, with no trace of the gypsy old woman who had set everything in motion.

—This can’t be, she doesn’t even exist!—Susan exclaimed, crossing her arms and shooting a reproachful glance at Ethan—This is your fault.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly tired of his wife’s constant accusations.

—My fault? Please! Dylan was the one who made the wish, and we’re the ones stuck in this mess with his little friends.

Susan snorted, turning around to head back to the apartment they were now sharing.

Once they arrived, they both collapsed on the sofa. Susan sighed with frustration, while Ethan stood up to inspect the small living room.

—This is a disaster—Susan said, bringing her hands to her face—I just want my normal life back.

—I wouldn’t complain too much, you know?—Ethan responded with a smile, taking off his shirt in front of the apartment mirror. He admired his defined and sculpted muscles, something he hadn’t seen in years—Look at this! When was the last time I looked like this?

—For the love of God, Ethan! Put your shirt on. This is ridiculous—Susan scolded, though her gaze briefly drifted to her husband, now in Joshua’s body.

—Ridiculous?—Ethan chuckled as he flexed his arms in front of the mirror—This is like turning back time.

Fed up with his attitude, Susan jumped up and, in a burst of frustration, decided to check for herself how she looked now. She stood in front of the mirror and, with some curiosity, slid her hands down the muscular arms of Alex’s body.

—This… this is weird—Susan admitted quietly, staring at her reflection. Her new body was strong and bulky, something she never imagined experiencing—I’ve never felt like this in my life.

—Weird?—Ethan said, approaching her with a teasing smile—Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying it a little.

Susan rolled her eyes and stepped away from the mirror.

—I don’t care how I look now. What I want is to get my life back, not walk around showing off like you.

Ethan raised his hands in a peace gesture, although he still had a satisfied expression.

—Alright, alright. But, while we find the old woman, we could make the most of it… How about we go out for dinner?

—Dinner?—Susan repeated, raising an eyebrow.

—Yes, of course. But first, I think we should go to the gym. Isn’t that what Alex and Joshua would do? Besides, I’m sure these bodies need exercise to stay like this.

Reluctantly, Susan agreed. After all, there wasn’t much else to do.

At the gym, they faced the demanding routines of Alex and Joshua. Ethan, used to a much more sedentary lifestyle, tried to keep up with the weights, while Susan, clearly annoyed, followed the instructions she found on Alex’s phone.

—This is crazy—Susan murmured, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she watched Ethan drinking an energy shake—How do they do this every day?

—It’s a matter of habit—Ethan replied, smiling as he approached a treadmill.

Suddenly, a young man approached them. He was wearing tight athletic gear and had a relaxed attitude.

—Alex? Joshua?—Ethan asked with a smile, looking them up and down.

Sergio and Susan exchanged quick glances. They had no idea who he was, but decided to play along.

—Yes, it's us—Ethan replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

The young man nodded, as if he already knew them well.

—Great. Hey, I’m hosting a party tonight. You guys should come. It’ll be at my place, nothing formal, just friends.

—Party?—Susan repeated, surprised.

—Yeah, sure. It’ll be fun—the young man responded before giving them more details and walking away with a smile.

When the young man disappeared from sight, Ethan turned to Susan with enthusiasm.

—This is perfect.

—Perfect?—Susan said, crossing her arms—Are you suggesting we go?

—Of course. When was the last time we went to a party with young people? All we do is attend boring adult gatherings. This could be an opportunity to experience something new.

Susan looked at him incredulously, but deep down, something in his words sparked her curiosity.

—Suppose I agree… But no acting like an idiot, Ethan.

—Deal!—he replied with a triumphant smile.

Meanwhile, Susan couldn’t help but wonder if this experience might be more than just a bad nightmare… Maybe, even, an opportunity to rediscover something lost in their relationship.

The night came, and Ethan and Susan, more nervous than excited, tried to pick the best clothes they could find in Alex and Joshua’s wardrobes. Ethan chose some tight dark jeans and a white shirt that was a little too snug, while Susan, uncomfortable, put on a sleeveless shirt and shorts that left little to the imagination.

—This is ridiculous—Susan said, adjusting her clothes in front of the mirror—Do young people really dress like this?

—Relax—Ethan replied, straightening his shirt collar—We’re doing this to fit in, remember?

With little money in their pockets, they decided to stop for a coffee before heading to the party. Sitting at a small table by the window, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm. For the first time in years, they weren’t arguing.

—This is… strange—Susan commented, stirring her coffee.

—What’s strange?—Ethan asked, looking out the window.

—Us. Here, not fighting. As if… as if we were another couple.

Ethan smiled faintly.

—Maybe this change has something good after all.

Before Susan could respond, Ethan’s phone started ringing. It was Dylan.

—How’s everything going over there?—Ethan asked as Susan moved closer to listen.

—Fine... I think. Alex and Joshua are keeping it together, although it’s total chaos.—Dylan sighed on the other end of the line—Did you find the old woman?

—No—Susan responded with frustration—We followed the coordinates, but there was no sign of her.

—Well, at least you tried.

Ethan cleared his throat.

—By the way, we’re going to a party tonight.

—What?—Dylan exclaimed—What party? Whose?

—A guy from the gym invited us. We don’t know him, but he seemed insistent.—Ethan paused—Dylan, do you know who he is?

—No. Maybe he’s new in town or at the gym. Be careful.

They hung up shortly after, and Ethan and Susan finished their coffees before heading to the party.

The place was full of energy. Colorful lights blinked while music echoed in every corner. People were laughing, dancing, and chatting in small groups. Ethan and Susan looked at each other nervously before entering, trying to appear relaxed.

—Remember, act like we know them—Ethan whispered.

Inside, they recognized several people from the gym. Probably Alex and Joshua's friends. Susan tried to chat with a few people, but couldn’t fully connect, while Ethan helped himself to a drink at the table.

It was then that the guy who had invited them appeared. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a charismatic smile.

—Alex, Joshua, I’m glad you came—the young man said, shaking their hands—I’m Elijah, by the way.

—Nice to meet you, Elijah—Susan replied, trying to sound casual.

Elijah smiled in a peculiar way, as if he knew something more.

—So, how are you adjusting to... the new?—he asked with a tone that seemed both innocent and mocking.

Ethan felt something stir inside him. That phrase had been too specific.

—What do you mean?—Ethan asked, feigning disinterest.

Elijah shrugged, his smile barely visible.

—Nothing, just a way of saying. Enjoy the party.

As Elijah walked away, Ethan was left thinking. How could he know something? The idea that he might be connected to the old woman crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. However, something didn’t add up.

He decided to find Susan to talk about it, but at that moment, someone else approached him.

—Hey, Alex, wanna grab a drink?—a young man asked, calling Susan, or rather, Alex’s body.

Susan, unsuspecting, accepted the invitation and walked away, leaving Ethan alone.

Ethan sat at one of the tables, reflecting on what had just happened. He looked around, observing the other guests, but couldn’t get Elijah’s words out of his mind.

—So, how are you adjusting to... the new?

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed when Susan came back. But what really snapped him out of his reverie was seeing her without a shirt, wearing a swimsuit she had found in the apartment.

—What the hell are you doing?—Sergio asked, alarmed.

Susan shrugged.

—Apparently, this is normal here. Besides, who cares? No one knows who we really are.

Ethan put a hand to his face, stifling a sigh. This night was going to be longer than he expected.

Susan, still animated by the festive atmosphere and clearly affected by the drinks, approached Ethan with a radiant smile.

—There’s a pool!—she said excitedly—I need a swim, and you do too.

—Susan, I think you've had enough to drink—Ethan responded cautiously, noticing the peculiar gleam in his wife’s eyes.

—Oh, come on! Don’t be boring.—Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the pool.

Ethan, surprised by the gesture, felt a strange warmth rise to his face. It was something so simple, but it had been so long since he felt that spontaneous connection with Susan. Was he blushing?

When they reached the pool, the atmosphere was completely different: laughter, softer music, and a group of young people enjoying the water under the colorful lights. Susan, without a second thought, jumped into the water, while Sergio stood at the edge, watching her.

—Ethan, come on!—she shouted, splashing him playfully.

He sighed, finally giving in, and stepped into the water. However, just a few minutes later, Susan moved away again, leaving him alone.

Ethan got out of the pool, drying himself off while looking for Susan in the crowd. That’s when he noticed Elijah, standing near a table, looking at him with a smile that seemed more calculated than friendly.

—Hey, Joshua…—Elijah said, walking toward him—Sorry for what I said earlier, about “adjusting to the new.”

—No problem—Ethan replied, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe the apology—Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm looking for someone.

But Elijah placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

—Wait, let me explain why I said that.

With a mix of suspicion and curiosity, Ethan decided to follow him. Elijah led him to a room downstairs and closed the door behind them.

—So, what’s this about?—Ethan asked, crossing his arms.

Elijah didn’t answer right away. Instead, he got closer, his eyes locked on Ethan’s.

—You know, Joshua... there’s something about you tonight. Something different.

Before Ethan could react, Elijah surprised him by leaning in to kiss him. Elijah’s lips met Ethan’s, and for a moment, Etnan was frozen. He had never kissed a man, nor had he ever imagined being in this situation. Why wasn’t he pulling away?

Finally, he reacted and pulled back abruptly, his heart pounding.

—What the hell are you doing?—he said, breathless, as he stepped back toward the door.

Elijah showed no remorse, just a mysterious smile.

—Maybe… Joshua isn’t as different as you think.

Without responding, Ethan hurriedly left the room, determined to find Susan.

When he finally found her, what he saw left him stunned. Susan, in Alex’s body, was standing close to a young woman, talking in a way that was far too familiar. The girl was laughing while Susan touched her arm, as if she were flirting.

Ethan furrowed his brow as he watched them both head upstairs.

—Susan! —he called, rushing after them.

Susan stopped, turning to face him with an annoyed look.

—What now?

—What are you doing? —Ethan demanded, trying to stay calm—. This is not the time to pretend to be someone else.

—Oh, please, Ethan —Susan replied, crossing her arms—. We're stuck in this absurd situation, what does it matter?

—It matters because we need to take care of each other and stick together. The best thing is that we leave now.

Susan glared at him, shaking her head.

—Do you always have to ruin everything? For once in my life, I just want to have fun.

Before Ethan could respond, Susan turned around and left with the girl.

Frustrated and angry, Ethan decided he’d had enough. He returned to the changing room, grabbed his clothes, and left the party without looking back.

Back at the apartment, Ethan locked himself in the small room he was now occupying, throwing himself onto the bed with a sigh of exhaustion. He waited, phone in hand, for a call or message from Susan, but nothing came.

As he tried to calm himself, his mind drifted back to the kiss from Elijah.

Why didn’t I pull away sooner? he thought, bringing a hand to his lips. He’d never kissed a man before, but there was something about that moment… something that unsettled him.

—I’m not gay… —he murmured, as if trying to convince himself.

Still, he couldn’t ignore what he had felt. Was Joshua gay? The idea troubled him, but it also stirred a strange curiosity.

With conflicting thoughts and emotions, he closed his eyes, and eventually, exhaustion overtook him.

The sound of the alarm clock vibrated softly, and Ethan opened his eyes, hoping everything had returned to normal. But it hadn’t. He was still in Joshua’s body. He glanced at the clock: 11:15 a.m.

He got up sluggishly, running his hands over his face and walking toward the bathroom to do his morning routine. As he washed his hands, an unmistakable smell hit his nose: food. Who was cooking?

When he reached the kitchen, he found Susan, still in Alex’s body, preparing what looked like a balanced breakfast: eggs, avocado, oatmeal, and a protein shake.

—Good morning, “J-Machine”! —Susan said with a smile, using a nickname that seemed to belong to Alex for Joshua.

Ethan frowned at the use of the nickname but decided to ignore it.

—Good morning… —he replied as he sat down at the small kitchen table—. Do you feel alright after last night?

Susan shrugged.

—Yeah, nothing a shower and coffee can’t fix.

—Well, I wanted to talk about what happened at the party…

—About what? —Susan asked, not looking at him as she served a plate.

—About what you did —Ethan insisted—. You drank too much, flirted with a girl, and then left with her. What the hell were you thinking?

Susan briefly looked at him, then returned her attention to her phone, typing messages and smiling as though she wasn’t in the middle of a serious conversation.

—Yeah, yeah… I’m sorry. Do you want avocado or double oatmeal? —Susan said indifferently.

—Susan, listen to me! —Ethan exclaimed, tapping the table gently to get her attention.

Finally, she looked up, slightly irritated.

—What? What did I do wrong now?

—Everything! —Ethan replied with frustration—. You’ve been acting like this is all a game. Not just last night, but always. Even when we were in our original bodies.

Susan frowned, setting her phone aside.

—What do you mean?

—I mean you and I have been distant for years —Ethan confessed, his tone more serious—. But last night, while I was trying to take care of you in that body, I felt something… something I haven’t felt in years. That connection we had when we were younger.

Susan looked at him in disbelief, then let out a sarcastic laugh.

—Connection? Or are you confusing things? Are you gay now?

—What? —Ethan asked, surprised by the question.

—Yeah, because all of this sounds weird. You’re telling me you felt “something” for me while I’m in Alex’s body. What’s going on, Ethan? Are you falling in love with your friend son?

Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately.

—It’s not that… —he murmured finally, averting his gaze—. It’s more complicated than that.

—More complicated? —Susan repeated, raising an eyebrow—. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I hope this isn’t about the kiss with Elijah or something like that.

Ethan suddenly stood up, pushing the chair aside.

—You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I try to talk to you. You always avoid everything, even now that we’re not ourselves.

—Where are you going? —Susan shouted, raising her voice.

—Anywhere where I don’t have to deal with you —Ethan responded, leaving the kitchen and leaving Susan with an expression of confusion and anger.

As he walked toward his room, his thoughts swirled in his mind. Was Susan right? Was he confusing his emotions? Between Elijah’s kiss, Joshua’s body, and his accumulated frustration, nothing seemed to make sense.

Days passed in which Ethan and Susan barely spoke to each other. The resentment from breakfast still lingered, and each one had opted to focus on their own routines. Susan, in Alex's young and athletic body, had become the life of the gym; always surrounded by people, she generated glances and conversations wherever she went. Meanwhile, Ethan preferred to isolate himself in the apartment, playing video games and reflecting on what had happened at that party.

The image of Elijah continued to haunt his mind, especially the kiss they shared. Ethan felt confused, as if that experience had awakened something in him, something he still couldn't fully understand.

On the fifth day, finally, something changed. Tired of the awkward silence, Susan approached Ethan in the living room while he was playing.

—Can we talk? —she asked, in a softer tone than usual.

Ethan paused the game and looked at her, hesitating for a moment.

—I suppose so.

Susan sat next to him, settling into the couch.

—I want to apologize. Not just for what happened at the party, but… for everything. For how things have been between us, even before this strange exchange.

Ethan watched her, surprised by her sincerity.

—I’ve messed up too. I’ve been too wrapped up in myself… and, well, you saw what happened that night. I shouldn’t have scolded you like that.

—No, you were right —Susan admitted—. I’ve always been the type to avoid things instead of facing them. But after all this… I think it’s time to change, for Dylan. Although now, technically, he’s our best friend.

They both chuckled lightly, easing some of the tension.

—For Dylan —Ethan said, raising his fist.

—For Dylan —Susan repeated, bumping her fist against Ethan's.

For a moment, silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something in the air, a connection they both felt but didn’t know how to express. Susan looked at him with a mix of curiosity and nervousness.

—Can I ask you something? —she said.

—Sure.

—What happened with Elijah?

Ethan sighed and looked away.

—It was strange. I don’t know why he did it… but when he kissed me, I didn’t hate it.

Susan looked at him intently, processing his words.

—You didn’t hate it?

—No. In fact, I think… I liked it.

The atmosphere grew more intimate. Susan placed her hand on Ethan's, and he looked directly at her for the first time in days.

—Maybe all of this is a sign —Susan whispered—. A way to show us that we don’t have to cling to who we were before.

Ethan nodded, and before he could respond, Susan leaned in toward him. It was a soft kiss, filled with a mix of nostalgia, curiosity, and something new that neither of them had ever felt before.

What started as a kiss soon turned into something more. Their bodies, although not their original ones, seemed to fit in a way they had never imagined. They surrendered to the moment, leaving behind the doubts and conflicts that had separated them for so long.

Days later...

Life went on. They hadn’t returned to their original bodies, but it no longer seemed to matter. Ethan and Susan had decided to stop searching for the old woman and, instead, embrace this new opportunity to get to know each other from a completely different perspective.

Dylan, still on the cruise, was completely unaware of what had happened between them, but he would surely find out when he returned. In the meantime, Susan and Ethan found a new routine, learning to live with their new realities and with a relationship that, although unexpected, had given them a new perspective on what it meant to be partners, friends, and companions in this surreal experience that they now called life.

The end

[moltensmusings]

Been thinking a lot about Blake backstory angst in my rewrite so have some parents.

Simple explanation: Blake's parents leave Menagerie when she's a baby so that they can explore Remnant with her and ultimately get killed by Grimm which she is the sole survivor of.

[miyaagis]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐I desire violently—and I wait. gojo satoru

political unions are means to strengthen a clan, and you were lucky enough to willingly accept his affections and give him an heir—a son. so, why does he need backup heirs from other women?

explicit content‐mdni. ₊˚⊹ ⚝ clan head!gojo, wife+mom!reader, infidelity, hurt little comfort, angst, jealousy, gojo being a boy dad, unnamed three-year-old baby gojo, pet names (honey, love), mentions of breeding and pregnancy.

word c. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ a bit over 1,000

clan head gojo art inspo

the gojo estate had always been blessed with bright landscapes during winter.

gray skies blended seamlessly with the light colored buildings, graced by the light rain (even with monsoon season still months away) and a calm atmosphere brought by the cold mornings.

"fishie c'mere."

your son wiggled his little fingers inside the water of the fishpond, squealing in delight when a fish splashed next to him. the three-year-old turned to look at you, bright eyes shimmering with mirth and child-like wonder.

"kōhaku!"

still crouched next to the pond, he loudly repeated what he had been taught recently by his governess.

even at his young age, his curiosity for the world surrounding him seemed endless, constantly having the clan's nannies on their toes only to get his way with that charming smile he clearly inherited from satoru.

"is that my mochi!?"

the exaggerated gasp from your husband quickly caught the little boy's attention, searching for his dad by turning his head left and right.

satoru's grip around his son came from behind, his little sandals falling from his feet as he's thrown up in the air before landing safely in his father's arms.

"papa, look! kōhaku!"

your husband gasps, dangling the boy over the pond as they watched the fish swim, "woahhh! my son is so smart!"

the little boy giggled as satoru littered his chubby cheeks with kisses, getting thrown over his dad's shoulder as they made their way towards you.

"good morning, my love," he leaned down to peck your lips, smiling tenderly at you. "has the little squirt been giving you any trouble?"

"he woke up an hour ago" you sighed, and he could perfectly picture you handling the cranky boy all by yourself.

"mama, i'm hungry." your son whined, letting his head fall against satoru's shoulder as he pouted adorably. "tummy hurts."

"go wash up, I'll handle breakfast," seeing the tired look on your face, he knew he had to cut you some slack and do his part as a parent. "take as long as you need, sweetheart."

with a kiss on your temple and a thankful smile from you, he sent you back to your shared bedroom while he took your little one to the kitchen.

"c'mon, mochi. let's go make mama something yummy."

—

two hours earlier.

satoru felt the warm embrace of his mistress nuzzling against him, her arms wrapped around his middle, and their legs tangled together under the thick comforter.

the sun wasn't even up, but the birds already chirped loudly through the window.

her faint sigh caught his attention, pulling her closer by throwing her leg over his hip while caressing the smooth surface of her thigh. they didn't even bother with clothes the night before, cocooning against each other after falling limply on the bed.

small kisses had warmth blooming on her skin, the comforting heat shared between their nude bodies as they stayed cuddled together.

"again?"

the clear disbelief in her tone made him chuckle, grunting softly as he pulled half of her body on top of his.

"I have to make sure it takes."

she hummed and smiled sleepily, pressing her lips onto his as he nudged her bare folds with the crown of his shaft right before sinking in her warmth.

they both felt their bodies ease up in relief, soft sighs exchanged in between sloppy kissing as he lazily thrust inside her.

satoru kept his face nuzzled against her neck, breathing her in while his arms wrapped around her. eventually, his lips moved back to her mouth in need of intimacy, the languid strokes of their tongues matching the steady pace of their lovemaking.

it didn't take him long to feel his member twitch and throb, emptying another load of his seed inside the woman, murmuring sweet nothing's as his length softened and slipped out of her.

satoru found it easy to fall asleep again with his mistress in his arms.

—

the fabric of your robes rustled silently around your feet—which seemed glued to the floor, as you watched her exit the main house of the gojo estate after another meeting between the Gojo's and her own clan.

her eyes met yours, and her hand immediately went to her flat stomach, as if protecting it, which made you scoff. and it only worsened when your husband held her hand as he helped her descend the wooden stairs.

all you could offer was a blank, emotionless stare, your sleeping son carefully held in your arms with his face hidden in the crook of your neck.

her eyes went to him, and your instincts screamed at you to shield him from her. what else did she want from you? was she after your son as well?

satoru swiftly rushed his mistress towards the exit so he could go back to you, having seen your distress. once he met you at the entrance of your own home, his frame interrupted your stare-down with the woman.

"let's go inside, honey." his tone was calm and gentle, coaxing you to let the issue go and head inside, but you didn't move. "please?"

"have you fulfilled your part of the deal?"

the coldness of your gaze had your husband pouting like a kicked animal. he ached to reassure you of his love, but he was quickly running out of ways to prove it.

"yes, I have."

wordlessly, you turned around with your son cradled close to you, his little fingers clinging onto your robes and satoru right behind you.

"my love, I hold no feelings. you know this already."

his reassurance was of little to no use. how he expected you to accept him impregnating another woman was beyond you.

"it's a political union," he vehemently said, knowing he had to convince you that she'd never become a wife of his. he'd give her a child—a backup heir—in exchange for her clan's resources and political ties. "I hold no feelings. you are my wife and the mother of the gojo clan's heir."

after putting down your son in his bed, making sure his soft hair was out of his forehead and the blanket kept him warm, you finally met satoru's gaze back.

"I don't want to know anything about her existence. don't ever bring her to my home again."

satoru nodded eagerly, willing to promise anything in order to end your sour mood. "I won't."

your son's room went silent besides the small breaths of his as he slept, unaware of the conflict worming inside his own home.

"but I will be out of our home more often." satoru knew he had to be careful with his words, blue eyes watching your reaction closely. there was no way to make it hurt any less, and he was finding it harder to conceal the excitement brimming from him. "she's pregnant."

satoru had to make sure the mother of his unborn baby had everything she wanted—him included.

[unluckiestmember]

can I request headcanons of x-men 97 team x reader who is an absolute sweatheart and is just the cutest thing to exist.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Sweetheart! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Jean Gray, Jubilee, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Morph, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Rogue and Logan/Wolverine.

Warning: Mild Cursing, but overall SFW.

A/N: Can I please get someone to remind me to actually post when I'm supposed to? Anyone? XD

Cable

“Time to get to work, keep up!… You want me to carry you? Heh, say less.”

Oh Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. He tries his best to be as tough and straight to business like his old man. Always a man to try and change the future and fight for the people with a straight face. But as soon as you’re around him, your sunshine energy radiates onto him. You make the freedom fighter have a need to impress you on the field when he’s not showering you in love outside of missions.

What really drew you to him was just how careful you were with his body. How you complimented his eye and stroked his robotic arm with so much care. It has made him really adore the end of the days where particular expeditions took a lot of energy out of you two, resulting in cuddles and sweet nothings. He never understood the whole concept of loving someone like his dad loved his mom, but after meeting you, he finally understood what they had was sacred. What you two had was sacred. Nathan has lost a lot in his life, but he’ll be damned if he loses you.

Cyclops

“Are you alright?! You’re not hurt, are you? I’m not overexaggerating- I’m worrying the right amount!”

Scott can be a pain in the neck during missions. He’s always one to bark out orders and keep a level head on missions as the leader of the X-Men. And if there’s one order that’s always on the top of his list, it’s making sure you are safe. He’s by all means not an overprotective or possessive lover, but he makes it a daily part of his life to always check on his beloved. Whenever you are just being yourself, you can find him staring at you, taking in your cute energy and reciprocating it with his own cute antics like kissing your cheek or giving you gifts when you least expect it.

Are the team a bit jealous of you having Scott’s favoritism? A bit. But hey, they’d rather someone like you have the best of Scott than the worst. Even if that also includes his defensive nature of you along with his jealous antics. He means well. You know it, sometimes you just have to remind him. Whether it be with a simple talk or a passionate kiss. Face it, you keep the leader of the X-Men grounded.

Gambit

“Ah, just the person I was looking for. Is it just me or are you getting more breathtaking every day, mon cher?"

When it comes to you, Remy is bound to flirt twenty four seven just to see that nice shade of pink color on your cute little cheeks. And if he cant succeed in that, he’s bound to have you smitten with his physical hold of your waist or his sincere compliments. He’s quite a charmer, anyone knows that, but with you, he adds another flare to himself; A sweet lover.

Gambit will always make it abundantly clear that you are the cutest person he’s ever met and how he can wager the perfect future with you by his side. Expect this man to shower you with surprise trips away from the mansion, a fresh breakfast almost everyday and a little card show if you are ever upset, because if there’s one thing he hates more than anything, it’s you being upset. You are the only one that can make Gambit so emotional because he just loves you so so much. And if you ever forget, he doesn’t mind reminding his raison de vivre.”

Jean Gray

“I wish you could see what was in my mind… Maybe then you’d realize how much you mean to me, my love.”

When it comes to Jean, you’ve basically hit the jackpot on one of the most open and loving girlfriends you could ever ask for. You aren’t just a sweetheart, you are her sweetheart. She always touches you like a porcelain doll, staring into your eyes with so much affection of her own and giggling whenever you hug or hold her, prompting her to hold you or hug you back just as tightly. On missions, she is in the zone, but as soon as they are over, she’s heading straight to you to check if you are injured. And if you’re not? Expect this woman to shower you in so many compliments and love that you might just drown from the cuteness.

Jean isn’t just your protector, but also your best friend, always free to try anything you want to try and do what you want to do.Dare she say, you might be the love of her life. Screw being lovers, she wants to be a married couple. But as much as that gets her excited, she’ll take her time for you, because she knows whether it takes her whole life or a single day, she doesn’t mind waiting for the fateful day.

Jubilee

“That was awesome! Did you see me out there- Did you?! Let me let you in on a secret; That last one was for you~!”

Because of how young she is and her lack of a love life, Jubilee is still pretty new to the whole dating and falling in love thing. But when she met you, she knew she was bound to fall in love with someone so positive and full of life. An embodiment of a firework if she said so herself. She always drags you around town with her to hangout at arcades or spend time in the mall grabbing lunch and doing cute couple things.

She cares about you enough to ask other X-Men members advice on how to treat you or show you how much you mean to her. It honestly impresses and shocks the team how this troublemaker tries her best to make you feel like the luckiest person in the world dating her. If she’s not showing her love for you through domestic activities, then look outside your window at night. You are bound to find Jubilee sending you love with her fireworks bound to make you giggle and smile. Which is always delightful because when you are filled with so much happiness, so is she.

Magneto

“What we have is stronger than any magnetic pull I’m capable of. It’s terrifying. But also magnificent.”

If you ever wanted to be treated like royalty, Magneto is the man for you. Erik treats you like you are a precious flower that could be destroyed by the mutant hating world around you. Because of this, he is so careful with you, yet not overbearing. If you want to hang out outside or simply hang out with him, he doesn’t mind as long as no one looks at you the wrong way or touches you with ill intent. Because if they do?… Let’s just say Magneto can do a lot with his powers.

When he’s not making sure you’re safe, he is awestruck at your innocence and your positive outlook on life. At first, he actually found your vision of the world to be immature, untrue and above all stupid. But the more he’s spent time with you, you’ve seem to have melted his cold heart a bit. Does he still think humanity is the scum of the Earth and nothing can change? Yes. But with you by his side, showing him what love, understanding and acceptance can be, maybe, just maybe, he can see where you’re coming from.

Morph

“Why the long face, babe? I can do a mean Magneto impression that’s sure to make you smile… Haha! There’s my love!”

Around people, Morph treats you almost like one of the guys, in a figurative sense. They don't treat you any differently from the rest of his friends and family within the team. But behind closed doors or when you two are alone, all bets are off. They are melting at your sweet nature and so quick to try to make you laugh, smile or get physical with them. Man, do they love when you get physical with him- They adore it!

But what they really loves is how caring and protecting of them you are. They've told you about their past, their run in with Mister Sinister and their time away from the team. And no matter how many nightmares or moments of body dysmorphia he experiences, they love how you are always there to pick up their loose pieces and put them back together with your gentle touch and gentler words. Because of this, they're always there to return the favor and comfort you as well when you are at your lowest. You are their best friend sorry Logan and their beloved and they wouldn’t want it any other way.

Nightcrawler

“Liebe meines Lebens. You never cease to take my breath away.”

Kurt is a pretty romantic person, especially when it comes to you. He showers you endlessly in love, rubbing his nose against yours, showering your face in kisses and becoming putty when you hold him, even if it’s just by his arm! He cherishes moments where the both of you hang out, especially by gardens where he makes cute flower crowns with you. Though just any moments with you are the highlight of his day. On missions, you two synergize perfectly well with the blue mutant complimenting you on your moves and takedowns of foes.

Kurt is an expert at physical touch for a love language, but he’s just as amazing with his words, especially with the nicknames he’s given you. He’ll make sure everyone knows that you are his Schatz, Herz, bessere Hälfte, and of course, Liebe meines Lebens. To you, he’s a lot like a little puppy; Full of energy and always waiting for your attention and affection given to him. The team thinks you two are cute even if they find it a bit annoying that Nightcrawler is always teleporting you two all over the place. It’s not too bad though since the sound of your mixing laughter is enough to make everyone’s hearts soar happily.

Rouge

“Hey, Sugar! I missed you so much today! Now come here, I at least want a hug!”

Rogue is super careful of you. You are just too precious to her and she doesn’t want to hurt or break you with her powers. So she makes sure you both have ways of showing one another how much you love each other, especially herself. Outside of soft hugs, she tries her best to give you a hand covered kiss. Though she can be super cheesy and exchange indirect kisses with rocks, feed you while chuckling at how adorably you stare at her like she hung the stars above. She’ll even have you both set up for dinner plans and fly you around in the sky if you ever want to destress from work as a X-Man.

You both have a cute relationship, even if there are moments where Rogue wonders if she deserves you or if she will ever be enough for you due to her destructive powers and the possibility she will never be able to touch you. These revelations have led to emotional nights, but the promise you make to touch her and make her the happiest woman in the world always makes Rogue realize that she is beyond lucky to have you. You make her want to find a way to touch you no matter what. And mark her words, she will.

Wolverine

“Woah, little pup. I was just gone for a few hours, you act like I went to war or something! Aw, screw it, come here.”

Logan has fallen in love with many men and women during his years of living. But damn has he never met anyone quite like you! When he met you, he thought your whole sweetheart shtick was fake, no offense. He thought it was some trick used to get people to lower their guards around you so you can get the upper hand on them. But when he found out you really were the sweet soul everyone hyped you up to be, he slowly but surely fell for you. He fell for how you spoke to him with such understanding and patience. The way you touched him was with the utmost care when you took care of him and helped him clean blood from your adventures with him that got out of hand.

Logan fights for many people, but for you he will kill anyone that hurts you or makes you cry. Your smile lights up his whole life, your laugh pushes him to be stronger to preserve it and your touch makes him feel alive in a world that always knocks him down. If it’s not the X-Men, Wolverine usually fights for himself and only himself. But now that he has you to lose, he fights for the both of you and a future where you both can live a peaceful life you’re both proud of.

If you got any requests for X-Men '97, Blue Eye Samurai, and or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[mostly-imagines]

Who Needs Heaven? : The Drop-In

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason meets his daughters

warnings: it’s not specific if the kids are bio or adopted — this probably doesn’t make sense on multiple fronts but i DON’T CARE

see for: the vibes

(2) safe & sound

His body jolts like he’s snapping out of sleep. The first thing he processes is loud conversations echoing, the sound of young girls talking over each other. He surveys over a book in his hands that he’s never heard of, though it’s opened more than halfway through and considerably worn. He drops the book to the side, coming to a stand and scanning over the environment. 

He looks around the adorned living room, taking in details rapidly. He doesn’t recognize the house he’s in but he can tell it’s somewhere he definitely does not belong. The room is filled with books on shelves and picture frames are littered in every free spot in between. The lights are warm and the furniture is colorful with pillows and blankets strewn all over. It’s a stark contrast to the refined stoic Manor he’s so used to; there’s a distinct feeling of homeliness and warmth that seeps through the walls.

He creeps into the front entryway to the house as quietly as he can, peering up the staircase to the landing above for any signs of familiarity or danger. From his right, a girl comes darting into the space, running face first into Jason. He immediately reaches out to steady her but she shows no sign of disruption. She makes a point of holding the wrapped popsicle in her hand away, keeping it safe. She blinks up at him before taking off past him, calling out, “Sorry, dad!”

Dad?

“Anna, I swear to God—” Another girl of similar age runs past, paying him no mind.

He gapes after her, thoroughly confused. Where the hell is he?

“Daddy?” He turns around and looks down to a younger girl who looks about six at most. She stares up at him with wide eyes and freckled cheeks. “Are you okay?”  

He can’t think.

This isn’t…this can’t be real. It can’t be. This is a dream. He got knocked out. He’s hallucinating. He’s dying.

He tries to keep his breath steady as this little girl peers up at him with curious eyes. “Daddy?”

He opens his mouth, struggling to find words, let alone get them out. “Where…where’s your mom?” He can barely make out his own voice.

“She’s in your room,” she tells him, looking up the stairs. 

He treds up the stairs slowly, the chatter downstairs barely getting any quieter. The second floor seems deserted in terms of the presence of children. If, if this were real (or more likely, a dream) you’ll be here somewhere. There’s no scenario where he’d ever imagine a life in a big house with a big family without you—subconsciously or otherwise. 

Several doors line the wide hallway, most of them open. He peers in the room closest to the top of the staircase, finding a heartily decorated bedroom with two twin beds. Polaroids and movie posters litter the walls and clothes are strewn across on top of the bed covers and in a few small piles on the floor. An orange lava lamp illuminates the room from a desk, shining off the glossy cover of magazines. Above, sports medals dangle off the wall against a white board, a scribbled on game of hangman midway through. A full-length mirror covered in stickers along the edges reflects a bookshelf across the room, dozens of books stuffed on each shelf. He blinks vacantly, pulling back from the doorway and continuing on.

He continues on down the right side of the hallway, passing up a bathroom and a closet before peering into the next room. It also has two beds, but it’s filled with remnants of young children. A small table with a tea set laid out on top sits in the middle of the room with various princess dresses draped across the short chairs. Pink bed sheets and butterfly-filled curtains joined by toy cars lined against the wall and strings of pink starry lights hanging from the ceiling. Both beds have stuffed animals arranged in thoughtful piles. It takes Jason a moment to notice the tattered, worn elephant with the green polka dot tie on the bed with the Cinderella comforter. Pickles. It was his when he was a kid. It’s placed delicately at the top of the pile, like he’s the king of the crop. A grand dollhouse sticks out against one of the walls, the dolls all lying asleep in their makeshift beds. Fluffy bubblegum and fuschia rugs scatter the floor just enough that you could jump across the room without ever touching the hardwood.

He turns to the last room, a door directly across that’s just cracked open. He can hear light music coming from inside and the almost inaudible shuffle of movement. He pushes the door open cautiously and takes in the sight of a woman, back to the door, folding laundry on the bed. He doesn’t even need to see your whole figure to know that it’s you.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds like he’s out of breath. 

“Yeah?” You turn around with your same kind eyes and gentle disposition. You look older, not much older but your face is more mature. You even hold yourself a little differently. You quickly notice the way he scans you with a look of bewilderment on his face and jump into concern. “What’s wrong?” You drop the shirt that you’re folding on the bed, approaching him with soft steps. Everything feels fuzzy.

“This—this is…” His voice seems far away, this body feels further. “This isn’t real…”

“What? Jay, what are you talking about?” You’re so genuinely concerned about him it makes his heart hurt and does nothing to help clear his head.

His breathing starts to stutter and his eyes can’t pick something to focus on. Everything is telling him that this is a false sense of security, he’s not safe, you’re not safe, everything’s wrong—

“Woah, hey, hey. It’s okay.” You take his face in your hands the way you know tends to ground him. “Catch me up.”

He tries to focus on the sliding clasp of the necklace around your neck. “I…I think this is…” He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up only to wake up in a few seconds and find that it was all pretend. Instead, he’ll settle for, “...This hasn’t happened…”

You frown at that, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”

He breathes out heavy, “I think I’m dreaming.” 

“What are you dreaming of?” You walk along this train of thought with him, though he has no idea why you would entertain it. This really must be pretend.

“The future…this is…is this the future?” He’s whispering, he’s not even sure if he’s asking you or himself or maybe even God. 

You’re quiet for a minute before you speak again. “Oh,” you say contemplatively, not nearly as alarmed as you should be. You should probably be calling him crazy, right? “This is��you told me about this. Yeah, it had something to do with that clock guy—”

He blinks a few times, “The Clock King?” That does sound…familiar. Was he—he was with Bruce wasn’t he? Or maybe Dick. Both?

You nod, “Yeah, yeah. You said you ‘time traveled’ for a minute...but that was in, like…”

He fills in the blank with the year as he remembers it and your eyes go wide. “Well, this would be a bit of a surprise then.”

“We have kids?”

You laugh, brushing his hair back gently, “Yes. Yes, we definitely do. Five girls.”

“Five?” He breathes.

“Yeah. Wasn’t the plan but…” you shrug easily, “Here we are.” 

He barely stops his next question from coming out of his mouth and replaces it. “Is this something I should be hearing?”

“What?” You tilt your head for a second before realization flashes across your face. “Oh, you don’t end up remembering any of this.” You shrug, mouth scrunched up to the side, “So why not?”

He does really want to hear about them. “Please.” He whispers faintly. 

You nod reposefully, “Okay, well…” you pause, eyes on the ceiling. “Oh, wait.” You dart over to the bookshelf against the wall and pull a book from the second shelf from the top, a large pink photo album.

You shuffle back, guiding him to the bed and sitting thigh to thigh with him and placing the album on your laps. You flip it open to the first page, which displays an array of photos of who must be his daughter.

“This is Mia—Miriam—she’s the oldest. She’s thirteen now, she’s very smart and a sort of a perfectionist. Really a perfectionist.” A couple of her baby pictures were taken in your apartment and it makes his heart absolutely melt to see you as he left you, holding a baby—his baby—with a glowing smile on your face. There’s another photo of her, kindergarten aged, dressed up as Spoiler for halloween. One shows her on a bike with shimmery handlebar streams, Jason holding her steady as she learns. He’s wearing the brightest smile he’s ever seen on his own face.

“Then there’s the twins,” you continue, flipping to the next page. You laugh when his breath hitches at that. “I know. It’s not as scary as it sounds. Well, not now that they’re older. Ryan and Anna.” You point to them as you say their names, and he recognizes them quickly as the two girls that had run past the stairs. The twins look identical, the only discernible difference found in that Ryan is grinning in every picture with a glint in her eyes and Anna nearly always has a stoic look on her face. 

“Ryan is her father’s daughter. She thinks she’s very clever and even more funny, and she is but don’t tell her that, it goes straight to her head.”

There’s a picture that has to be a couple of years old by now of the two of them dressed in what looks like brand new soccer gear. Another depicts one of them chasing Tim with a firework sparkler at dusk. He sees one of Ryan covered in dirt and tiny cuts, smiling big, helmet crooked on her head.

“Anna’s a happy kid, she is. Don’t let her attitude trick you—she just likes to keep her feelings to herself.” Anna’s pictures remind him of Damian in some ways. The very intentional lack of a smile but the happiness still seeps through anyways. One of her pictures has her cuddling with two rottweiler puppies in classic Damian style. Another one shows her a bit older, on Jason’s shoulders, surveying the land.  

You turn to the next page, “And Laine, uh, Elaine,” you smile, “She’s a bit eccentric. She lives in her own world but she’ll bring you into it with her. She likes magic and glitter and offbeat things.” Laine’s pictures leave a particular warmth in his heart. She has the absolute widest smile and the brightest eyes he’s ever seen. One photo shows her having a picnic with several stuffed animals, another has her drawing a rainbow with sidewalk chalk. One picture towards the bottom of the page grabs his eye, one of Laine happily braiding Cass’ short hair at what appears to be the Manor.

“And then the little one is Aurora—Rory,” You turn to a page full of pictures of the wide-eyed girl, who has the sweetest baby face. He can tell from the pictures alone that she has your personality. You point to a picture of her giggling with bubbles all in her hair as you explain, “She’s still small but she has a big heart and a very sensitive soul already.” Jason’s practically staring a hole in the picture of Rory as a newborn in the hospital, held delicately by Bruce.

You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he processes quietly, letting him take his time.

“They’re happy?” He asks in a whisper.

“We’re happy.” You say affirmingly. He looks you in the eyes and you see a specific vulnerability in his that you haven’t seen in a long time. “You are a good dad, Jay.”

He’s still surprised that you can read him like a book, even though at this point you’d have been together for at least fifteen-some years. His eyes burn and he’s not sure he can keep it together. But you dig the knife in all the same, “They love you. A lot. We couldn’t live without you.”

You flip through until you find a page later in the book, plopping it back open fully. The first picture he takes note of shows him outside with picked flowers scattered in his hair wherever they’ll stay put, Laine and Rory trying to straighten them out. Another is of Anna hesitantly feeding a horse an apple, Jason crouched next to her, reassuring her. On the other page, Rory is mid-air being thrown into an absolutely massive leaf pile, glee adorning her face. He turns the page to find one of the girls with a red hoodie pulled over her head and a makeshift mask made from a red plastic plate with holes cut out for the eyes. One has Mia resting against his back, passed out, as he helps Ryan tie off a friendship bracelet on her wrist.

This isn’t—he doesn’t deserve this. This can’t be true, this is more than a happy ending and he’d never even expected you to love him this long, let alone give him the world and then some. He stares at the page for a while, trying to burn every detail into his head. 

You tear your gaze away from his face to glance at the clock on the side table, muttering, “Oh shit. Hang on.”

His eyes follow you as you stand from the bed and walk across the room to the door, cracking it open a few inches before shouting out, “Bed!”

There’s a brief delay before a clamor starts towards them, all five girls thumping up the stairs.  

You turn back to him, heedfully, “You can stay in here if you want. They’re a little…a lot.” You say tentatively. Well, if there’s anything he’s accustomed to it’s big families with bigger personalities.

Jason lingers behind you as you enter the hallway, looking like a little kid in an unfamiliar place. Whatever conversations were going on downstairs have simply moved location, no urgency present whatsoever to continue on with the progression of the night. You’re trying to verbally corral them towards their respective bedrooms, but it’s a tough job with two clear headed parents on a good day.

He stands frozen in the midst of the clutter of them as they rattle off to you and to each other. He’s scared to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to upset or alarm them. But because he is their father, they don’t need him to do anything strange to realize that he’s being strange.

Ryan squints up at him, “What’s wrong with you?”

The question grabs Laine’s attention and she looks to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong with Dad?”

You shake your head, “Nothing’s—”

“He’s not having a stroke already, is he?” Anna faints, no alarm in her words. Mia thumps the back of her head for that with no returning acknowledgement given by Anna.

Ryan is looking at him like she’s sizing him up. Something you did not get a chance to tell him about Ryan is that she can smell blood in the water like a shark. So it’s not surprising to you that she picks up on Jason’s disoriented state.

“Father?” She calls out sweetly.

You sigh, “Ryan—”

“No, it’s okay. I want to ask dad specifically.” She turns him away from you with a smile. She doesn’t know what’s going on and she doesn’t need to. She’s an opportunist like that. “Could I have the last popsicle?”

Anna cuts in harshly, “You better n—”

“Hey Annie, few notes for ya,” Ryan says with widened eyes and a pointed finger, “One, you shouldn’t interrupt your father, it’s disrespectful,” Anna’s face contorts at that, and she’s about to bite back but she’s cut off quickly by Ryan’s dedication to dishing out her hypocritical sermon. “Two, you shouldn’t interrupt me because it’s potentially the single greatest sin you’ll ever—”

Alright, you gave her a chance to turn it around, she’s done now. “No, you’re all going to bed now and if you’re lucky that popsicle is still there when you get home from school tomorrow.” You tell Ryan with a pointed look. She gives you a half-hearted glare, absolutely nothing compared to her real one. 

“Mom, you said—” Mia throws her hands up as she recounts a promise that you may or may not have given her, it’s anyone’s guess. 

Then Anna starts up, “That’s not fair, I called—”

Rory pipes up from behind you. “We’re supposed to read our story first.”

You inhale sharply, turning to face her, “Oh—” you crouch down to her level, holding her waist. “How about I read it tonight, Rory?”

She frowns, “Daddy always reads it.”

Ryan taps on Jason’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Dad, listen,” she says lowly, like she’s trying to get him in on the deal of the century. “Anna doesn’t deserve it, she’s rooting for you to stroke out—”

You frown at Rory with repentance, “I know sweetheart, but—”

Laine looks quite contemplative as she announces, “It’s unholy to break tradition.”

You scrunch up your face and swivel your head to her, “What?”

This declaration does enough to break Ryan away from her scheme. She turns to her and says flatly, “You haven’t said anything that makes sense in like two weeks.” 

Jason’s mind is going a mile a minute, trying to process the fifteen things that are going on all at once and take in the fact that these are his children. His daughters and they’re so loud and opinionated and bold and he loves it. He thinks this is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. Hell, he’d take this over heaven a million times over.

“Mom. Mom!” Mia urges, “Can you help me?”

Your head stutters between your daughters, “I—yeah. Rory, just—”

“I can do it.” He says quietly.

“Yeah?” You look up at him, hopefully, genuinely delighted that he wants to jump into this mess without the twelve years of prep that you’re dependent on. 

“Yeah.” He nods, determined and you and Rory smile up at him. Mia all but yanks you up from the floor, pulling you to her room and you can just barely make out Ryan’s hushed murmur of, “I’m getting the popsicle…”

Rory takes Jason’s hand, drowning her own in his. She leads him to the pink bedroom with all the toys, and climbs onto the unicorn bed, shoving all but a few of the stuffed animals onto the floor. Elaine follows close behind and does the same with her own bed, though the only one she keeps is Pickles.

He stands next to the bed a bit awkwardly as she pulls a book off the table next to her, the length of the book easily taking up half her arms. It takes her looking up at him expectantly for him to get the hint, shuffling to squeeze in next to her on the small bed. 

She hands him the book and he regards it with a smile. Little Women. He pauses as he starts to open it, “Where, um…where did we leave off?”

She looks at him funny, smiling like he’s messing with her. She flips the book open a little more than halfway through and stops on chapter fifteen. She presses her pointer finger down to the start of the chapter with a thump. “Right here.”

Jason takes a steadying breath and begins reading in the same soft voice he reads to you in, and it seems to appease both girls. He’s not processing what he’s saying as he sits there with his littlest daughter tucked into his side and hanging on to every last word. He can feel her breathing in and out softly and it all feels so surreal now. 

““I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own." As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short.” Rory giggles as Laine gasps, and Jason can feel the rhythm of his heart fluttering in a new way. 

He reads to the end of the chapter and returns the book to its place on the side table, and reluctantly pulls away from Rory, standing up again. He tucks her nicely, if not inexperienced, into the sheets and kisses her forehead. She immediately holds out her toy bear, silently requesting the same treatment for him. Jason kisses the bear too, happily. He does the same for Laine, taking particular note of the way she hugs Pickles to her chest tightly. 

He starts towards the door, but is quickly put to a halt. “Wait,” Laine calls out. He turns back to her wide-eyed, terrified he did something wrong. “The lights,” she says, looking up to the ceiling at the dangling stars. Oh, right. She watches him skeptically as he innocently looks around for the switch, and Rory tilts her head at him, not sure what he’s playing at. 

“It’s right there,” Rory points with a mildly sullen look to where the mechanism dangles near the outlet. Jason quickly flicks the lights on, the soft orange-pink glow of stars illuminating against the walls. Rory’s pleased enough and adjusts to get more comfortable in her bed. 

Laine however, hisses out a, “Hey,” gesturing him towards her. He sidesteps the tea table and comes around to her side of the room, kneeling down by her bed attentively. She glances over at Rory before asking in a hushed voice, “Are you an alien?” 

That, he wasn’t expecting. “...What?” 

She shakes her head reassuringly, “It’s okay, I won’t tell. But um…I would like my dad back eventually please. If that’s okay.”  

His breath stutters and he forces out an, “O—okay.”

She holds out her pinky and it takes him a second to register what she’s asking. He wordlessly pinky promises her and she smiles big, pleased with the agreement.

He stands again, feeling light headed as he heads for the door. 

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Rory murmurs against the pillow, watching him leave.

His gaze flickers back and forth from them to make sure they like having the door closed, Rory watches him bemusedly and Laine nods at him slyly with a twinkle in her eyes. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight,” He exhales, not as loud as he meant to. He clicks the door shut softly and there’s a warmth in his chest that he could get addicted to.

He wanders down the hall towards the sound of your voice, passing Anna and Ryan climbing under their covers and murmuring something to each other, half eaten popsicle in the ladders hand. He passes the staircase, peering his head into the next room over. His eyes immediately land on you and Mia stood in front of an armoire, shuffling through clothes having an exchange of considerative words.

Mia’s room is very neat and put together, everything is placed with much more intention than in the other girls rooms. Her room has more mellow colors too, largely white with soft shades of pastels throughout. There’s a desk with organized notebooks and multiple vases of flowers, with bundles of yarn placed nicely in a basket in the corner. A tall bookshelf is filled with fifty-some books with a violin case leaning up against it. Nail polishes rest beside a jewelry box on the side table next to her bed. She also has picture frames across the walls, some containing photos of flora, others of the family, and a few of what appears to be her own sketches.

“—worried it’s too showy, you know?”

You hum, “I don’t think so, I mean, not for picture day.” 

Mia turns to Jason, shirt held up against her body. “What do you think?”

He takes a second to bounce back from the surprise of being asked the question, “I, uh…I like it.”

You smile at him as Mia faces you again, “Okay, so this with that flowy lilac skirt?”

“The lilac…yeah, that would be cute.”

She nods pleased, draping the shirt over the back of the armchair in the corner.

You and Jason head out of the room, closing the door on your way out so she can change into her pajamas. 

“Goodnight!” she calls out through the crack in the door. You and Jason return it in sync, clicking the door closed. You hold his hand as you walk past the twins' open door, giving them the same sentiment with Jason’s own following quickly after. They call it out back, louder than necessary, and you close your bedroom door behind the two of you.

You rest against the door and he leans his head back against the wall next to you, glancing over at you. “I won’t remember any of this?” He seems dejected at the idea, not happy to have been handed the world and then having it swiped from his memory immediately after.

You consider it for a second, shaking your head, “I don’t think so.”

He’s quiet for a bit, thinking. “Do you have a marker?”

“A marker?” You look around casually, “Uh, yeah.” You unclip a sharpie from the mini calendar pinned against the wall, tossing it to him. You watch curiously as he holds his forearm out in front of him, popping the lid off with his mouth.

The light in the room starts to dim dramatically until his vision is completely dark. The pull of gravity on his body feels wrong and a pang of fire shoots against the side of his head.   

“Hood.” He hears in the darkness, “Hood.” The commanding voice startles him awake once again. “Are you alright?” 

He blinks up at Batman blearily, feeling like he’s just gotten hit over the head with a chair. “What…what—”

“The Clock King. He threw some sort of device at you. It knocked you out for a few minutes. Are you alright?”

He feels dizzy. “Uh…yeah.”

He cranes his head to glance over at where the Clock King is hunched over on the ground, handcuffed, inspecting the cartridge of his device closely. “Damn it, I knew it wasn’t right. Meant to knock him into the past.” He tells Nightwing like it’s some common mistake they can bond over. 

Nightwing moues at him, “I don’t care?”

Knock him into the—did he go to the future? He can’t get his thoughts in order, let alone summon memories from the future. Frankly, it doesn’t matter that much to him right now—he’s sore and wants to just fall asleep next to you. 

He sits up slowly, grimacing as the pain in his head sharpens for a moment. Batman clasps his hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. “Can you stand?”

Hood grunts and pushes himself up, anchoring his weight against the ground. “Fuck. I’m going home.”

Batman says nothing to protest, instead joining Nightwing and pulling The Clock King up from the ground. Jason stumbles away towards his bike, thankful that he’s only a couple miles away from your apartment. Jesus, the future? You’re not going to believe that shit.

He climbs onto the bike with a groan, pushing up his sleeves as he prepares to start the bike. He doesn’t notice it until he revs it, but when he looks down at his left arm, he sees scribbled on his arm in sharpie:

WE’RE HAPPY

vote: do you have a favorite daughter?

❤️ REBLOGGING = SUPPORTING ❤️

[p-taryn-dactyl]

masked hearts

part i

a/n: hi! this is my first time writing for ambessa so please be kind lmao. i also know very little about LoL lore :) this is kinda an AU where the Medarda family is together word count: 2.5k warning(s): none (yet); well no real warnings, reader has a crush and is not very smooth; very awkward; you're a lesbian; unedited 😭

prompt: ambessa holds a ball to find a partner for her son but what happens when you're the one to catch her eye?

Your kingdom was one of splendor and beauty, the hills ripe with settlements, the trees fruitful and the air crisp. It wasn't a mystery why the Medarda clan claimed this small portion of the world for themselves, as your kingdom sat on a pivital route for trade. The mystery however, was why the head of the Medarda's, Ambessa, chose this place to be the homeland of her son's future spouse. The flyers went up around the center of the capitol first, the paper of expensive quality and the ink shimmering with gold.

It was an invitation to a ball. One of masks and hidden identities.

The Medarda's, while they've never been accused of not caring about physical appearance, put wit above all. It was fitting that the son of a warlord would first fall for the mind before the body. However, as the whispers got around the kingdom, people realized there wasn't a class specified to attend. Everyone, rich and poor, was invited to attempt to become a Medarda-by-law.

You, however, weren't as excited as your sisters and cousins. You watched as they danced around your shop, holding up different fabrics and colors, trying to see which one would make their dress stand out to Kino. Laughing, you wiped down the counter, your eyes trained on your register, imagining it bursting with gold after your town had finished sending in their requests for their gowns and masks.

"Y/N, have you decided what you're going to wear?" One of your cousins, Laina, appeared behind the counter, her young hands stabilizing her as she stood on her toes, "Mama says I can go if I finish my chores the week before!"

You gave her a soft smile, flicking your slightly damp rag at her and laughing when she recoiled with an unamused glare.

"I don't think I am going to attend, but I can personally make your dress!"

Laina's face fell but her eyes still had a sparkle from your request.

"Why not?" She pouted, crossing her arms once she managed to pull herself up to sit on your freshly cleaned counter, "And would you make me a mask too?"

Sighing, you threw your rag into the bucket of water at your feet, ignoring the splash against your boots. You could always finish cleaning later. Leaning with your back agaisnt the counter, you mimicked her pose, crossing your arms and pouting out your lower lip.

"Masks are for potential suitors of Kino, maybe if he's still looking for a partner in a decade I'll make you one," Laina opened her mouth as if to interupt, to say she wasn't too young even though her tenth birthday had only just passed two days before. You held up a finger, stopping her words before they left her mouth, "And...I'm not one for the company of men, you know that. A large party, loud and boisterous, sounds fun but with my luck I would be the one to catch the wandering eye of Kino Medarda."

Laina nodded, albeit a little dissapointed. She played with a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes.

"Would you think about coming? With me? Mom and Dad aren't going, they want to have a quiet night in and Alana will be too busy trying to become a princess."

You laughed loudly, causing the customers of the shop and your family members to look at you. You covered your mouth with a hand, nodding at the customers apologetically. Pursing your lips, you scoffed humorously as Laina gave you one of her sad eyes expressions, one she knew you couldn't say no to. Rolling your eyes, you ruffled Laina's hair with a defeated smile.

"Alright fine, but you'll have to convince your mother to send me a basket full of honey buns afterward," Laina clapped in excitement, nodding in agreement. She fixed her eyes on you, taking a scrap of dark red fabric from her pocket and holding it up against your face.

"This should be for your dress."

Taking the fabric from Laina, you felt it between your fingers and sighed. What did you get yourself into.

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

In a few measley hours you would find yourself within the walls of the Medarda castle, built from stone from the most coveted quarry in your kingdom. At the right time of day, you swore you could see it shining brighter than a star upon the hill which it sat. Laina was a bundle of energy and was currently bouncing around the apartment above your family's shop. She was talking so fast, excitement blurring her words together so much so you couldn't even distinguish what she was saying, so you only nodded along to her words as you examined your dress one last time. Laina had long been dressed and now all her movement made you worried she would wrinkle or tear the precious fabric.

Your dress, one that matched the dark red Laina had chosen for your mask, layed across your lap, subject to your wandering eyes as you looked for any imperfections. While you didn't exactly want to catch anyone important eyes, you didn't want to be seen in a less than perfect gown.

"Put it on! We have to leave soon if we want to make it for the opening of the gates!" Laina excalimed, clapping her hands together as she twirled, her light green dress floating around her like petals in the wind. You smiled, gesturing towards the door with your head.

"Well, I'll need someone to guard the door while I change. I don't want anyone bursting in here while I'm in my unspeakables." You held your head up haughtily like your grandmother, mimicking her accent and pretending to clutch your pearls at the mention of your underwear. Laina covered her mouth as she giggled, nodding as she ran out to stand by your door, only pausing right before she shut it.

"If you need help, you'll ask right?"

You saw in her eyes the desperation of being a helper, a feeling you knew too well. You nodded at her then waved your hand, beckoning her to shut the door. At the click, you sighed, looking back at your gown, starting to feel the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety roaring in your stomach and up your throat. Damn Laina's puppy dog eyes. Now, instead of sitting in bed with a book and a hot cup of tea, you were going to dance in front of one of the most powerful family's in Runeterra. With your luck you would face plant right in front of Kino, or worse, his mother. At the thought of Ambessa, your mind grew conflicted. Sure, you had a healthy fear of the woman who was shrouded in tales of blood, but you remembered the first time you saw the matriarch after the Medarda's had claimed your kingdom for themselves. It was like a schoolgirl's crush on a teacher, you knew it would never go anywhere but yet, even after all the years, you still dreamed of the strong hands and scarred face which had been burned into your mind the second you swore her eyes landed on you in the crowd.

Shaking your head, you snapped yourself out of your senseless dreaming. Being attracted to women wasn't an issue, it never had been, but being attracted to that woman could only bring you strife as you compared all future partners to her. Standing up, you shedded your clothing, standing only in your slip and stockings tied up at your knee. Taking a deep breath, you slid the dress on, each part brushing against your skin in soft silk. Once it was on, all that was left was to tighten the corset. You brushed your hands down, smoothing down the fabric before calling for Laina, knowing you could tighten it yourself. Laina burst into the room, her eyes widening as she gasped.

"Y/N, you're so beautiful! I knew that color would be pretty on you!"

You felt your face flush from the compliments, not used to the attention. Laina pulled up a stool to stand on as she started tightening the your dress.

"Ah! Ok, if you want me to dance with you, you're going to have to let me breathe."

Laina chuckled sheepishly, loosing the ribbons slightly.

"Sorry! I think you're done!"

You nodded, moving to hold yourself up against the wall as you slipped on your shoes, dreading a night spent soley wearing heels. You grabbed your mask and held out your hand to Laina, bowing playfully.

"I believe it's time for us to depart, my lady."

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

The night was young yet you already were desperate for the strike of midnight, the time you and Laina had agreed upon leaving. Speaking of Laina, she had made a few friends with the other young children attending the ball, sitting in a corner with them as they played games, their laughter hidden by the music. At the front of the giant room sat Mel Medarda and her consort, Jayce Talis. They were holding hands as they watched the dancers, leaving you to wonder when they would join the party. Kino was already weaving his way through the room, dancing with many but seemingly connecting with none. And Ambessa, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes seemingly met hers, was making her way into the crowd, her mask one of gold and war. You looked away frantically, returning your attention to the table of food in front of you. After a few moments, you felt yourself relax, yet that was short lived. You felt a presence behind you and suddenly, you were very aware that you were the only one at the table and not on the dance floor. Which felt like the universe was just shitting you at this point. You picked up a berry, inspecting it as if that would make the imposing woman standing behind you not be standing behind you.

It didn't work.

Slowly, you turned around, heart beating in your ears drowning out the music. You didn't realize how close she was, causing you to jump slightly and bump into the table. For a second, you just stared at each other before Ambessa moved. You tensed, before you realized she had grabbed a pastry from the platter that had been knocked off center. She took a bite, keeping her eyes trained on you before she spoke. You just kept mentally pinching yourself, trying to force yourself out of this embarassing nightmare.

"Is that all you're going to have, Little One?" Her voice sent shivers down your spine as you processed what she had said, her head nodding to the berry still clutched in between your fingers, it's juices staining your fingertips.

"Oh! Uh, no? I'll have," you didn't want to look away from the tall woman, fearing that would be a sign of disrespect, so you tried to remember what food had been spread out, "bread? Yes, bread, I like bread." Your eyes widened as you spoke, now mentally punching yourself for the dumb response. Bread? Now come on. Part of you was grateful for the mask covering part of your face, hiding what was sure to be a horrendous blush.

Ambessa's mouth quirked into a smirk, taking a slight step towards you before angling her body so she could gesture her arm towards the sea of people.

"This whole night you've stayed by the table, or near that corner of children, never once even attempting to join the festivites," she turned her attention back to you, slightly cocking her head to the side, "Is this party boring you? Is my son?" You registered the humorous tone mixed with the protectiveness of a mother.

Quickly you shook your head, hand clenching the berry in your hand, bursting the fruit. You tried to start explaining yourself but the feeling of juice sticking to your skin made you uncomfortable. You still felt frozen by Ambessa's presence so you did what felt right in the moment, however pausing as you realized you had started licking your hand infront of the matriarch of war. In your embarassment, you didn't notice how Ambessa's eyes followed the actions of your tongue and fingers like a wolf hunting prey. Like a rubber band snapping, you realized you hadn't answered her question.

"I'm not bored! This is a beautiful procession and whoever catches your son's eye will be lucky."

Ambessa nodded slightly, turning her head to watch as Kino twirled a woman in blue. When she looked back to you, her eyes held a question laced with genuine interest and humor.

"And if you catch his eye?"

Your own eyes widened as you wiped your hand on the napkin you had grabbed while her attention was on her son. Ambessa didn't miss the change in your expression, your mask not hiding the nervousness shining in your eyes. Instead of your original adorable fear of her presence, you now seemed to radiate anxiety. She raised an eyebrow, knowing you couldn't see it, waiting for your response.

"I," you started, your eyes darting to Laina, who was now watching you with a teasing look, knowing of your godawful crush on the woman standing in front of you, "I would be very flattered-"

"But?" There was a sense of anticipation in her interuption, her words no longer holding underlying steel.

"But I would have to respectfully decline," you looked down at your hands, starting to speak quickly, desperate to explain yourself as to not give the impression you thought yourself too good for a conqueror's son, "Not out of any thought of doing better of course, I doubt that could even be accomplished, however I believe Kino- I mean, your son, deserves to be with someone who can love him purely and with romantic intent. The best I could give would be a position of friendship." You stopped to take a breath, fully intending to continue your ramble until the gods themselves had to shut you up. But this plan was foiled by Ambessa's strong hand holding your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes analysed you, surveying your face before going lower to look at your dress. You felt heat rise, or more heat, at her intense stare. Something in the stitching on your bodice made recognition flicker in Ambessa's eyes. Her hand moved from your chin down to your waist, encouragaing you to walk with her. She continued to talk as the two of you made your way to the center of the room, the crowd parting as they danced around you.

"Do you already have someone in your heart? A different boy perhaps?"

If you weren't feeling like you were in a dream, you would have realized Ambessa was fishing for something, an answer she needed.

"No, my lady, I do not. I," you cleared your throat, "I won't ever have a man claim my heart."

Ambessa's grip on your waist grew stronger as she pulled you to her chest, positioning you to dance. You gasped as you felt her lips brush against your ear as she swayed you to the rhythm of the music.

"And if I lay a claim?"

a/n: haha sorry for the sudden ending i'm evil at my core. this fic was to test the waters for writing for this absolute goddess of a woman and i do have part 2 ready to go if anyone is interested! i cannot say my thoughts on Ambessa (or Sevika for that matter) for i want to keep this authors note short and PG ;) thank you for reading!! i hope this wasn't shit.

[navybrat817]

Has Sweet Pea's mom called Bucky? 🥺

Not yet, nonnie.

Heart and Home

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: You reflect on the love you have for your daughter and your loneliness.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, light angst, loneliness, single parenting, daughter nicknamed Sweet Pea, thinking about Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Follow up to Moving in Slow Motion. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky hadn’t left your mind since the museum. How could you not think about him? The man looked like he’d been ripped right out of one of those romance novels you liked to curl up with once your daughter fell asleep. Tall and built, movie star handsome, a smile that made your heart stop. Not only that, he made your little girl smile. That meant the world because she was your world.

But that didn’t mean anything was going to happen and it was way too soon to think it would.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” You called out.

“Okay, Mama!”

You glanced at your phone as you grabbed a couple of plates, wondering when and if you should call Bucky. You couldn’t remember the last time someone offered their phone number once knowing you had a kid. It was a dealbreaker for some. Not to mention, you had been out of the dating game for some time and you weren’t even sure what was an acceptable period of time to call or not call.

“He isn’t thinking about me,” you muttered, loading up the plates once everything was ready. A man like Bucky probably had a line out the door of people who wanted to date him. Beyond his looks, there was something mysterious about him. Maybe even dangerous. You couldn’t put your finger on why you felt that way. It likely had something to do with those books you couldn’t stop yourself from reading and it was bleeding into reality.

“Dinner is served!” You smiled as you set the food on the small dining room table. Your daughter was still in the living room, occupied with coloring at the coffee table. Your apartment wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but things like trinkets, snuggly throw pillows, and photos of you and your daughter helped make the place a cozy home. “I made dino nuggies.”

Her eyes widened as she looked up from her sheet. “Dino nuggies!” Both of you laughed when she held her hands up and roared. She loved nuggets and dinosaurs. “One more minute, please?”

You pretended to think about it. “Okay, one more minute,” you said, taking a seat to watch her. She grabbed another crayon and pursed her lips as she colored. It was an adorable expression of concentration. She must’ve picked it up from you since she didn’t get it from her father.

You shut your eyes for a moment when her dad’s face shimmered in your mind. The two of you weren't together anymore and he wasn't part of your daughter's life either. He likely never would be since he wanted nothing to do with kids. It hurt some days. Not because you missed him, the man was never meant to be your forever partner. But how could anyone look at your daughter and not love her?

At the end of the day, the two of you were better off alone instead of forcing him to stick around. And you did your best to give her the love of two parents. But what would happen as she got older and wondered why her dad wasn’t there? You would never regret having her, but what if you weren’t enough for her? What then?

“What are you working on?” You asked, pulling yourself from those sad thoughts and concentrating on the present.

“The museum!” She answered, scrutinizing the paper. She took her coloring very seriously. “Finished!”

“Let’s take a look,” you said, holding out your hand when she brought it over. It was the room at the museum where she built the roller coaster, full of wonder and energy. The bright colors jumped off the page, like the shade yellow reflecting her natural happiness. Maybe you were a little biased, but you thought her drawings were perfect. “Wow! Beautiful, just like you.”

She giggled at the compliment. “You’re beautiful, Mama. A queen!”

“I guess that makes you a princess then,” you smiled, booping her nose and getting another giggle out of her. “You did a wonderful job drawing the roller coaster.”

She held her head high. She was so proud. “I did. And look! That’s you and me,” she said, pointing at two of the stick figures in front of it. “And that’s Mr. Bucky!”

Your smile faltered as you looked at the third stick figure, the colors matching the outfit he wore along with a pair of blue eyes. Your finger traced it before you could stop yourself. She was adding him to drawings after only meeting him once? It shouldn't surprise you since she kept talking about him as you took her around the museum. “It’s a very nice drawing, Sweet Pea.”

“Thanks, Mama.” She smiled, taking a seat and pulling her plate closer. “Can we send it to Mr. Bucky? Please?”

“The nuggets may still be a little warm, so blow on them, please,” you warned, looking at the drawing again. The innocent look in her eyes made it hard to say no. “I don’t think we can send it to him. I’m sorry.”

She made an exaggerated show of blowing on the first before she took a bite, but the happiness from the meal faded quickly at your response. “How come?” She asked sadly, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout she easily learned to perfect. “H-He liked my art.”

You reached over to rub her back when she hung her head, your comforting instinct coming out. “Oh, I know Mr. Bucky liked your art. He really did. I just don’t know where he lives, which is why I can’t send it,” you replied gently, which was true. It didn’t take the sad look off her face. “But if we see him again, we’ll be sure to ask if he’d like a drawing from you. I’m sure he’d love it.”

You tried to emphasize the word “if” since you didn’t want to get her hopes up or have her get attached. You wouldn't get your hopes up either. Being cautiously optimistic was the way to go.

After a moment, she lifted her head and took another bite of her food. “Okay, Mama.”

You quietly dug in, knowing this wasn't the end of it. She had such a loving heart, so pure, and you wondered if she sensed your loneliness some days or if it rubbed off on her. You did your best not to let it show. She was a child who didn't need to carry any burden of your feelings.

“How about after dinner you pick out a book for us to read together?” You suggested, giving her a tiny smile as she contemplated it. She still enjoyed having bedtime stories and you’d indulge that as long as she let you.

“Any book I want?” She smiled.

“Any book you want,” you promised.

As the two of you continued to eat, you glanced at the empty chair across from you with a heavy heart. Maybe one day it wouldn't be empty. Maybe a caring person would occupy the seat. Someone who would bring more love to your home. Until then, you would give Sweet Pea all the love she deserved.

And maybe you’d give Bucky a call once you were in bed.

Oh, Bucky is eagerly awaiting that phone call. And I just want to wrap them up in a hug. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (4 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff

Word Count: 957

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Checking through his daughter’s backpack strikes up a difficult conversation.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Price has no idea where his daughter’s disorganization from, but it certainly isn’t him.

Opening her backpack, Price cringes at the mess. It’s all crushed papers, broken pencils, scattered crayons, and food wrappers. Sighing, Price turns the backpack zipper-side down, the contents crashing to the dining room table.

She is going to sit down tonight and organize this. No exceptions.

Frowning down at the wreckage, Price begins sorting through the papers, glancing at a few just to find some order in the chaos. He picks up a piece of paper and pauses, his gaze landing on the title.

All About Me reads the top of the page.

Price smiles as he starts to read over his daughter’s answers.

Favorite color? Blue.

Favorite animal? Dragon—all capital letters with lots of exclamation points.

Happiest memory? That one just says “ghostie tree.” Her teacher will have no idea what that means, but Price knows, and he laughs so hard he almost chokes.

Price’s daughter adores Simon, and whenever he’s around, she turns into a koala, hanging off every limb. It doesn’t matter if Simon is standing or sitting down. And how does Simon feel about it? He’ll act bored, like it hardly bothers him, but then he’ll strike, tickling her until she runs away screaming only for her to return minutes later to do it all over again.

Flipping it over, Price continues to read, pausing when he reaches information about parents and guardians. This is where he slows and observers her writing. She already filled stuff out about mom, and Price knows you’d get a laugh out of her answers, but the sections about him cool his amusement.

Her answers are idyllic versions of himself, nearly whimsical in the way she describes what he does and how proud she is that he is her father. That makes him ache, brings a tightness to his chest that pushes out all other feeling. Price is proud of his work, and of his career, but it is not a beautiful thing.

It is not sweet or kind or tender.

It is rough. It is hard.

It is heartbreaking.

He has lost so many people. So many good men and women. He’s done horrible things. Stained his palms with blood. These are difficult truths he faces every day.

But there are softer moments in his career of watching those he’s mentored be promoted, of victories and celebrations, of marriages and births, and of all those he’s worked with who have gone on to lead fulfilling, happy lives.

All of that, and this isn’t what stops him.

It’s her answer to the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I want to be like my dad.

Price sighs and sets the paper down on the table.

How does he respond to that? Should he even take the initiative? Should he approach the topic at all?

Price isn’t certain.

“Daddy.”

Price starts at his daughter’s voice. He turns. She’s standing just inside the archway to the living room. She has a perplexed look on her face as she glances between him and the mess on the kitchen.

“What’ve you done with my backpack?”

Price blinks, and then chuckles. “It’s a mess, love. We’ve taught you better.” Her face flushes slightly as she slowly walks up to the table. “You’re sitting down and going through this. No exceptions.”

She nods sheepishly.

Price picks up the questionnaire. “Want to talk about this? I have to sign off on it.”

Her flush grows deeper. “Did you read it?”

“I did.”

She looks up at him expectantly and Price waits a moment to see if she’ll say anything. She doesn’t.

“You said some nice things about me,” he says softly, and she beams. It reminds him of your smile, and that melts his heart down to his toes.

“It’s true,” she says brightly, happy that he’s mentioned anything at all.

“You want to be like me?” She nods. “And what do I do?”

She blinks. “Didn’t you read what I wrote?”

Price barks a laugh. “Yes, love. I did. But I want to hear it from you.”

She squares her shoulders and looks up at him with fierce determination. “You protect people. I want to protect people.”

True. But not entirely.

“How do you think I protect people?” He can see her brain processing the question and attempting to formulate an answer. She chews on her bottom lip, shoulders sagging slightly.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “But I know that you do. You protect me and mom.”

“That’s because you and your mother are mine to protect.”

Protect is not the right word. While his actions and the things that he does might prevent horrible things happening at a global level, doing so often results in pain and suffering. It’s just what happens even when he tries to prevent that.

“Can I not do that?” she asks.

“You can do whatever you want when you’re older.”

But military life? No. He doesn’t wish that for her, and it’s not because she’s a girl. He’d feel the same if she has been born a son. No parent wants to see their child in potential danger. Doesn’t matter what age.

“So I can be just like you?”

He wants to say “no,” but instead diverts the question elsewhere. “You can’t be anything if you don’t organize this backpack.”

She groans and starts rummaging around in the mess.

Price kisses the top of her head. When he glances up, you’re standing in the archway, a soft smile on your face. Did you hear the whole conversation? Or just the end?

You stride forward and reach out. Price meets your outstretched hand, threading his fingers with yours.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @nelladowney @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair

[yelenasbraid]

baby bliss — joe burrow

summary — you just had a baby, and you’re pregnant again. it’s safe to say that joe has his concerns.

warnings — fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy, fluff, anxious joe, mentions of sex, panic attack

requested by — anon <3

YOU ALWAYS KNEW you wanted a family. ever since you were in middle school, you knew that you wanted to have kids. you didn’t know who, at that point, would make you a mom, but being a mother was one of your many desires.

so, when you and your husband found out about your first, you were through the roof excited. your dreams of being a mother came true, but not without the long-haul of a 9 month pregnancy. morning sickness got the best of you in the first trimester, not to mention you hated the smell of meat. joe was as supportive as he could be, and he wished he could be there more often than he was.

it got a little better past the first trimester, especially when you found out you were having a little girl. joe was beyond excited, already picking out outfits for his daughter. you always saw joe as a girl dad, and you couldn’t wait to see him finally hold her.

the months drug on, your belly growing more and more swollen by the day. it came to point where you were doing anything to try and get this baby out.

“ok, we’ve tried spicy food, the yoga ball, and exercise. baby girl just won’t budge,” you groaned as you sat on the couch one evening, balancing your food bowl on your belly.

“she’s stubborn like her mama,” joe teased, nudging you with his foot. you gave him a look, which made the blonde next to you giggle.

“hush, burrow. she gets her genes from both of us, not just me,” you chirped as you put another forkful into your mouth.

“you what what we haven’t tried?” joe wiggled his eyebrows at you, making you furrow yours in confusion.

“what?”

“sex,” he answered, rather bluntly of course. he wiggled his eyebrows as you laughed.

“that would be the most unflattering sex we would ever have,” you told him, causing him to then make a face at you.

“there is no such thing as an unflattering angle on you, babe. plus, i put that baby in you, i could be the one to help her out,” he spoke in a sing-song voice. you only laughed, your cheeks heating up to a rose red color.

needless to say you guys did have sex that night, and despite your baby bump, it was still as amazing as it always was. baby girl seemed to agree, and she came not even 24 hours later.

joe sat in the chair across from you, baby girl lyla on his bare chest, watching her sleep. you laid in the hospital bed, barely keeping your eyes open. you watched as your husband cradled his baby girl, his hands engulfing her small frame. he whispered sweet nothings to her, never taking his eyes off of her.

he was so proud of you and he was so in love with his lyla.

—

5 weeks flew by, and you and joe were getting used to having lyla at home. there were many sleepless nights, even if you and joe were on a schedule. in those 5 weeks, lyla grew like a tree, her features developing to look more like her parents. she had joe’s bright blue eyes and your hair color. she was a daddy’s girl, that was for sure.

joe loved being the one to change her and bathe her. he loved spending time with her, making sure she knew she was loved and cared for. you loved watching joe step into the father role, silently vowing to protect his girls for the rest of his life.

it also made you hella horny.

you weren’t supposed to have sex until 6 weeks after giving birth. your hormones were in overdrive, and every single angle of joey made you want to strip him down. which you could do, but realistically you knew where that would lead.

lyla was down for a nap, and you and joe sat on the couch. it was one of those days where your skin was on fire and you desperately needed touch. joe’s hand was on your thigh, rubbing small circles on your skin as a show played on the tv. it made you go absolutely insane. it was only one more week and he’d be all yours. it was just one week, what was it going to do?

“fuck it,” you mumbled, climbing onto joe’s lap. he was shocked, to say the least, but he’s been impatient too. seeing you in mom mode, despite the messy hair and baggy clothes, it just made things worse for him. he’s not been able to have sex with you for 5 weeks, and while he understood why, he just knew that 6th week was going to be the best week of his life. well, one of the best weeks.

your hands went to his cheeks, pressing your lips to his. your house was a mess, but the baby was asleep and you needed joe. his lips moved effortlessly against yours, the need in his bones spilling over into your mouth. his hands settled on your hips, moving up and down your legs and back. he’s missed this, he’s missed you, specifically the taste of you. you got lost in the taste of him and how he touched you, fulfilling the desire that’s been burning through you for the past couple of weeks.

“are we about to do this?” joe asked, pulling away from you for just a second.

“yes, but we need to be fast and quiet,” you told him.

“yes ma’am,”

—

you didn’t regret having sex that day. it felt good, and your needs were fulfilled. what you didn’t expect was to feel nauseous a week later. you didn’t expect to see two more blue lines show up on a pregnancy test. panic settled in, your hands started to shake, and your mind ran a million miles an hour.

what the hell do you tell joe?

you set the stick down, and while you’re excited you’re having baby number 2, you were still anxious. you beat yourself for letting your hormones get the best of you, leading you to enjoy your husband in the most intimate ways.

the door shut downstairs, signaling joe was home. you walked out of the bathroom, grabbed lyla from her crib and walked downstairs. lyla babbled all the way down, not having a clue of what the stick in her mama’s hand meant.

“there’s my pretty girls!” joe grinned as he saw his wife and daughter greet him. he spread his arms out, taking his little girl into his arms. he softly bounced her on his hip, her giggles echoing in his ears. he wrapped you in the hug as well, kissing the top of your head.

“how’re you, mamas?” he asked you, cradling the back of your head with his hand. your heart was beating a million miles an hour, sweat sticking to your forehead.

“i’ve got something for you,” you told him, your voice a little unsteady. his brow furrowed, catching the shakiness of your voice. he gently placed lyla in her play area in the living room, the little girl going straight for her stuffed animals.

“what is it? are you ok?” he asked, his hands ghosting over your body. he was afraid that your premature sex did something, and that maybe you needed to go back to the hospital. he saw you pull out a pregnancy stick, placing it in his hands. two more beautiful lines showed up, informing him he was going to be a dad to two kids.

“wait, really?” he asked, his excitement building.

“yep, it’s why i’ve not been feeling well,” you informed him, stealing a look at your daughter. joe picked you up and hugged you, swaying you from side to side.

“that’s amazing!” he set you down, and as he did, his anxiety settled in. there was a reason why they had you wait 6 weeks until you could have sex. infection, the risk of tearing, the list goes on. your body was put through the wringer with pregnancy and birth, and you were about to do it all over again?

“babe?” you snapped him out of his anxious trance, forcing him to swallow. he couldn’t show you he was scared, not now.

“i’m ok, i promise,” he reassured you. joe knew you’d see through him, you always did, but for right now he didn’t want to bring it up. he gave you another hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. your daughter’s whimpering separated you two, signaling it was time for dinner.

—

the next few days were anxiety-inducing for joe. he went to practice, came home, had dinner with his family, and held his wife at night. but his chest was in a constant state of tension. he woke up every time you shifted, every time you groaned he would be there in and instant, and if you walked funny he would watch you with wide eyes.

you noticed the shift in joe. he seemed on edge, anxious even. you tried talking to him about it, but he brushed it off, telling you that practice was rough. you’ve known him long enough to know that he was lying, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, you weren’t gonna press it.

you walked downstairs one afternoon, empty water bottle in hand, stomach rumbling. you just put lyla down for a nap and wanted to reward yourself with a snack. you were hungry more often with this one, fingers always itching for a snack.

“i swear we’re having a boy this time with how often i’m hungry,” you commented as you walked into the kitchen. you watched joe for a second, your smile faltering as you watched him pace. you knew something was up, his actions the past few days said enough.

“joey? honey?” you walked up to him, stopping him in his tracks. you placed a hand on his arm, stopping him from continuing in his tracks. joe met eyes with you, his chest heaving. his eyes flicked over your body, subconsciously looking for anything that told him you weren’t ok. you seemed ok, you didn’t seem like you were in any obvious pain. his eyes found yours again, but he still had yet to say something.

“what’s wrong?” you asked him, cupping his cheeks with your hands. the feeling of your warm hands on his cheeks momentarily grounded him, but the moment didn’t last long. his breaths quickened and his chest heaving with each attempted inhale. his whole body went rigid, even if you were standing right in front of him, perfectly fine.

“baby, look at me,” you encouraged him, keeping your hands on his cheeks. he tried his hardest to keep his eyes on you, even if all he wanted to was disassociate. he watched as you inhaled, exhaled, and repeated.

“keep breathing with me,” you encouraged him, imitating your breathing. he followed suit, his hands wandering around to find the cool counter, the warmth of your waist, and the softness of your shirt. he honed in on you, taking in the glow of your skin, the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your skin. he grounded himself, resting his forehead against yours.

moments passed, your hands rubbing circles under his eyes, his arms wrapping around your middle. he buried his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. he felt calmer, especially since his adrenaline was crashing down through the roof. after a few moments, you led him over to the couch, sitting down. he immediately laid against your stomach, wrapping his arms around yours as gently as he could.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you threaded your fingers through his hair, the frosted tips fading into more of his dirty blonde.

“i’m just worried,” he sagged into you, feeling the hangover from the almost-panic attack he had moments ago.

“yeah?”

“i feel like it’s too soon, that we got too excited,” he hummed against you. realistically, he knew you were ok. if you weren’t, it would be more obvious.

“maybe it was, but i’m ok. i feel ok, baby’s ok,” you comforted him, continuing to massage his scalp. he sighed, giving you a gentle squeeze. moments like this were rare with you, especially with a little one, who was sound asleep upstairs.

“i’ve just heard of all the things that could happen,” he continued, closing his eyes. sleep has evaded him just as much as it’s evaded you. any sleep he could get he grabbed, but he knew you were up more than he was.

“i know, and trust me, it scared me too. but we’re ok, i’m ok,” you kissed the top of his head. he accepted your answer, allowing himself to finally relax for the first time in a week. you two were drifting off, eyes almost closing when you heard the whimpers of lyla on the baby monitor. your eyes opened, groans escaping your lips.

“duty calls,” you hummed, shifting, making joe get up off of you. he leaned up and kissed you, softly and briefly.

“i’ll go get her,” he offered, standing up on shaky legs. he was beyond relieved you were ok, that baby #2 was ok. he knew that he should have trusted your instincts and your body, but he was apart of this family too. if anything happened, if you weren’t ok, he’d beat himself up for the rest of his life.

but you were ok, and as he lifted his baby girl into his arms, that reality sunk deep into his chest. he pressed a soft kiss to lyla’s head, fuzzy with hair. he carried her downstairs, forever grateful for the growing family he had.

hehe this was so cute i loved writing it. i hope you enjoyed it anon! it was so much fun and i love dad joe. pls enjoy and feel free to send requests!

tags: @wickedfun9

[specialmouse]

when i talk about japanese exceptionalism/fetishism being racist i dont mean that it solely affects, or even MOSTLY affects, japanese people. japan is the america of asia. japanese people on the mainland are fine. but what japanese exceptionalism and fetishism of japanese culture does is, well, exactly what it seems like im saying--it places japan (a deeply racist imperialist society) as the pinnacle of asian civilization. and what does that do? it places all other asian civilizations on a hierarchy, usually determined by skin color, and how close to "japanese" the asian person/asian ethnicity is. there's a reason why westerners are gooning over south korea right now and it's because they see a lot of similarities between south korean culture and japanese culture (which is funny because uh, colonialism guys. come on)---but hate china and the dprk, and see all of southeast asia as dirty and backwards.

when the archetypal japanese woman (pale, hairless, thin, yamato, submissive, etc.) is fetishized, it is usually not the japanese woman who faces the brunt of fetishistic violence (unless she is of the diaspora in which case... lol)--it is the vietnamese woman, the thai woman, the indonesian woman, etc., because they are more vulnerable to exploitation a) because they are more likely to be brown and *andre 3000 voice* across cultures darker skinned people suffer the most, b) southeast asian countries are still majorly suffering from the after effects of western colonialism and asymmetric warfare that leaves their country far worse off economically (particularly vietnam, laos, and cambodia) and, c) westerners, despite recognizing her as an asian woman, do not see her as a Japanese woman, and therefore treat her worse because they see her as uncivilized. there's a reason why, when pedophiles want an asian child, they go to thailand, not japan---because the sex tourism industry isn't something they can get rid of. japanese women are considered the ultimate trophy to be shown off as a sign of the man's virility and masculinity, and southeast asian women are seen as consolation prizes to the men who can't get the "real thing". do you know how many mixed asians i know whose dads scooped their moms up from a military base in the philippines or okinawa? and the mom has only gone to see her family maybe five times in 20 years? she's not the porcelain doll the man wanted, but she still has to try and "japanize" herself to be seen as even worthy of respect, which she still doesn't get because no matter what she does she will not be japanese. that's what japanese exceptionalism does.

[lunamugetsu]

Delivery!

Flash was currently being held captive in a black of ice. How he got like this he wasn't sure. All he remembered was that he was running across Central City keeping the peace until suddenly an ice beam shot out of nowhere and froze his feat to the ground.... and the rest of him.

"Alright you got me! Show your face!"

"Well I was going to regardless. No need to yell." Out pops Danny Phantom carrying a bag with him and holding out an envelope.

"What? Who are you?"

"My name's Phantom. Danny Phantom. I have a message for you. I couldn't get your attention earlier so I thought this was just the next best way to get you to stop." Danny said as he unfreezes the speedster.

"Uh, okay." Flash said as Danny gives him an envelope.

On the envelope there are drawing in crayon and stickers and in marker it says: to Flash.

"It's from Susie, she'd said you'd remember her."

He remembered a Susie, a little girl that he used to see in the children's hospital. She had leukemia. He spent any minute he could making sure the kid was smiling when he was there. He was heartbroken when the nurses told him that she had passed away before he could give her her birthday present. Flash examined the crayon written words, it was just like Susie's writing.

"How did you?"

"Just read it."

The letter reads:

Dear Flash,

I'm sorry, I wasn't there when you showed up for my birthday. I never got to tell you, but thank you for being at the hospital with me when I was scared of going to treatment or when I had to take my medicine. Thank you for making me smile even when I didn't feel well. Thank you for playing games with me when I couldn't go outside. Thank you for talking to my mom and dad at my funeral. That was really nice. I drew some pictures for you but I never got to finish them when I was in the hospital so I drew you some new ones. Danny says that he'll give them to you.

In the envelope was a series of different colored papers all with different crayon and marker drawings of Susie and him playing in different scenarios. One where she was a doctor and he played the injured patient. One where they were both superheroes. Another one where they were playing shadow puppets when she wasn't feeling well. Page after page were different drawings of them playing with the last one was covered in glitter with a big heart with a crayon drawing of him and Susie.

"Susie said that her biggest regret was that she couldn't say thank you to her hero before she passed. So I bumped her up on my delivery list."

"What?"

"Oh yeah, I never fully introduced myself. I'm Danny Phantom, you can call me Danny. I'm the designated delivery person for the afterlife to the living realm. Any messages or special requests from the dead are delivered by me!" Danny hands him a business card all official.

And it does say: Danny Phantom special delivery service for those of the non-living variety!

"She also said she wanted to give you one last hug before moving on."

"What do you?" Flash is halted from saying anything else as he feels a pressure against his legs. He looks down to see a translucent small figure. She was a picture of what she looked like before the chemo. Susie gives him a smile and a hug before fading before his eyes.

Before Danny officially takes up the mantle of Ghost King he's trying to do a job that would have him interact with all of his citizens first so he could get a feel of it. Hence him making connections with both the living and non-living people (he went big-brain for this idea)

Extra scene:

"Oh that reminds me, I have a card for you from someone else."

"A card?" Flash opens the card only to get sucker-punched in the face. (like one of those cartoon boxing glove punches)

"A punch card." Danny said

Flash groans as he looks at the card that has the words: STOP MESSING WITH TIME! from CW

Obligatory Gotham Scene:

Danny standing in front of a beaten up Joker that has been tied to a chair.

"Just so you know I have a back order of a lot special requests for you. And since I can't exactly kill you, that would create so much political tape. I can let them make requests for certain actions. So right now I have over 50 requests for me to break your legs and over 30 to pull out your teeth and break your jaw. Some of them contradict each other because they want to make every word you say hurt you but others want me to curse you so you can't speak again. So I'll just have to get creative." Danny says winding his arm back and form.

He is for sure being completely professional about, he gets no personal gratification from beating up a crazy clown at all. (said nobody ever)

[nadvs]

hard to ignore (two-shot) (part one)

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.

author’s note hugs to @nemesyaaa for sharing the idea of singledad!zach. i couldn’t stop writing (and the one-shot hit 15k words and became a two-shot… i love slowburn…) hurt and comfort. fluff. no smut. divider credit.

content warning parental abandonment

» masterlist

Zach is sure, without a doubt, that he has already lived the best day of his life.

The moment he held Ella in his arms was when the world bloomed into a color he didn’t know existed. Nothing could ever and would ever top that feeling.

He didn’t expect that before thirty, he’d already experience the worst day of his life, too. But he’s certain he has.

He was in a fog, a bad dream he kept trying to wake himself up from. He had stepped into the guest room to see a piece of paper on Jade’s bed and he knew before he even unfolded the letter that she was gone.

He read the last line of the letter over and over again. I can’t live like this anymore. Deep down, he always feared that she would give up on them. But not like this. And not this soon.

After Ella was born, bitterness permanently etched itself into Jade’s face. To her, the baby was always a mistake and Zach stopped being someone she loved and became nothing but the man she regretfully had a child with.

She became the antithesis of the girl he fell for. The love they’d once had was replaced with a cold distance. She started sleeping in the guest room. She ate her meals alone. She left the house as much as she could.

Still, he respected that she had learned to tolerate motherhood. While she didn’t love being a stay-at-home mom, he didn’t think she hated it.

But then she left. And if she could abandon them like this, four years in, not even having it in her to look into her little girl’s eyes to say goodbye, then that tolerance had a cruel end.

That’s why now, a month after her sudden departure, Zach is sitting in his living room, fingers curling the corner of the resume belonging to the woman scheduled to arrive in a few minutes.

Dishes clatter as his mother tidies up his kitchen. Normally, he’d feel guilty and nag her to sit down. But things aren’t normal and he’ll take all the help he can get. It’s been an uphill battle trying to pick up the pieces on his own.

His family drove in a few nights ago. They offered to visit as soon as he called with the news, but he didn’t want to put Ella through too much at once, so he waited a few weeks. Once he asked them to come, they dropped everything and set out for the four-hour car ride.

Ella’s playing in the backyard with her grandpa and aunt while Connie helps Zach run interviews. His team’s managers were understanding when he asked for time off, but Zach can’t be away forever. With his training and match schedule, he needs to find a nanny.

He’d rather not introduce a new person into her life, especially this soon, but it’s unavoidable. At least with a nanny, he can control that Ella will always be in the comfort of her home. A place she knows.

Moments like these, he wishes he hadn’t been drafted to a team a state away. If he’d stayed close to his hometown, Ella would see both sets of grandparents more often and he’d have dependable childcare until he figured out how to function as a single dad.

Zach looks over his shoulder through the window, swallowing the lump in his throat when he sees his daughter running circles around her grandpa in the morning sun. The chime of the doorbell throws him out of his trance.

Soft blue eyes meet yours when the door swings open. The stranger on the other side is tall and handsome and younger than you expected, his half-smile clouded by sorrow. You introduce yourself and he offers you a firm but gentle handshake.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Zach. Come in.”

You trail him into the large house, mind already racing with the potential of it becoming your workplace. The agency had set up the interview. You don’t know much about the client, except that he has a four-year-old daughter and that he requested a nanny who’s adaptable to a changing schedule.

After meeting Ella’s grandmother, you settle on a couch and make small talk and answer their questions. You learn that Zach is a professional soccer player and that his work can be demanding and inconsistent, but with your apartment being close by, you assure him that you’re reliable and flexible.

By the end of the interview, the idea of a nanny doesn’t make Zach nearly as uneasy as it did an hour ago. You’re kind and experienced and knowledgeable and every time you see his little girl through the window, you smile in pure endearment.

Zach likes the idea of his daughter being around someone joyful. Jade grew to be so cold that Ella learned to go to her dad whenever she wanted to feel reassured and loved. It’s comforting to imagine her growing to like you, maybe even love you, and to be met with the same warmth she’s so full of.

The rest of the interviews go fine, but Zach has always operated on gut feelings and you’re a clear winner. His mom agrees.

────୨ৎ────

After an agency rep calls to tell you that you’ve been offered a trial period, you spend five days at the house getting to know Ella while Zach shadows to answer your questions. He’s friendly and helpful, but visibly tense.

The final afternoon, you’re playing with Ella in the living room when Zach’s phone rings. Ella rushes over to his side, asking if it’s her mommy calling. You notice the nervous way his jaw clenches when he kneels to the floor.

“It’s grandma,” he tells her, holding his phone out so the camera will capture them both.

You pretend you didn’t hear Ella's question. You know nothing about her mom and you wouldn’t dare risk crossing a boundary by asking.

Soon after the call, Ella’s drawing at the dining table while you and Zach periodically glance across the room to check on her from the kitchen. He’s been teaching you how he prepares Ella’s favorite foods. He likes that you write everything down, asking him for details down to exact measurements. If he wasn’t sure that you took the happiness of his daughter seriously before, he is now.

He already told the story to his family and to Jade’s parents and to his closest friends, but that was with people he knew well. People who could comfort him. He’s not sure how to share with you that she left, but he wants to hire you, and this is something you should be aware of.

After he slides a pan into the oven, he stands to face you, towering over you as he wipes his hands with a tea towel.

“You have the job if you want it,” Zach says quietly. You smile at him appreciatively. You weren’t feeling confident, considering how on edge he’s been, but you realize it must not have been you he was nervous about.

“Thank you,” you reply. “I do.”

He nods, looking down as he leans against the kitchen island, and says, “She starts kindergarten next fall. You’d be alright with part-time hours then?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Uh, you should know…” he says, turning his head to look over at his daughter, “her mom left. A little over a month ago. It was out of the blue.”

Your heart twists in pain at his words, at the agony that draws itself into his face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, staring up at his profile. Zach blinks a few times, gazing at his daughter. You press your lips together, wishing you knew what to say.

“Ella didn’t get a goodbye,” he tells you. Neither did he, not a real one, but that’s irrelevant. “I told her that her mom chose to leave and I don’t know why she made that choice, but I’m not going anywhere. If she brings it up, please say the same.”

“I will,” you reply with an understanding nod, “and only if she mentions it first.”

“Thank you,” Zach says. “I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t want someone to leave her again. You are planning on staying as long as we need you, right? Even when the hours get shorter during the school year?”

He had that same note of desperation in his voice when he asked you about your commitment to the job during the interview, too.

“Yes,” you assure him. “I understand that she needs stability right now.”

Based on the way Zach’s eyes lower, you can tell he needs stability, too. His wife not only left him, but she left him with their child. You can’t imagine the hole that it dug in his heart.

“Thanks,” he says. He takes a breath. He wasn’t strong enough not to cry when he told Ella her mom was gone and he’ll always hate himself for it, but at least he kept his tears from falling this time.

“Do you want to ask her what she thinks about it?” you offer. “I can go put away her laundry to give you some privacy.”

Zach nods in agreement. And as he expected, when he asks his daughter if she’d like for you to hang around here more often after he goes back to work, she gives him an enthusiastic yes.

You’re purposely slow with the laundry to give them time. You come back into the kitchen to see Ella happily eating a freshly baked muffin and swinging her feet, smiling up at her father as he sits next to her at the dining table.

“My daddy said you’re gonna be here every day,” she says to you with a grin, overjoyed by the news.

“Not every day,” Zach corrects her gently. “But most days.”

“Try this!” Ella exclaims, stretching her arm out towards you, the muffin in her fist. The way you happily accept the food even though it’s reduced to smushed fragments in his child’s small hand makes Zach’s heart feel a little lighter.

“That’s delicious,” you say after you take a bite, settling at the table across from them.

Zach’s still getting used to having a woman around who’s so sweet to his child. Jade would hardly ever accept Ella’s offers to share her food, telling him that saying yes to everything would only raise a spoiled child.

“My daddy’s the bestest cook,” she proudly says.

“Best,” Zach corrects. “Thank you, honey.”

“He really is,” you reply. “I don’t know how I’ll fill his shoes, but I’ll try my best.”

Ella’s face pinches in confusion as she kneels over in her booster seat to look under the table.

“I think his shoes will be too big for you,” she mumbles, pointing to your feet. You laugh, meeting Zach’s gaze, seeing the first genuine smile on his face. You didn’t know he had dimples.

He can’t remember the last time he laughed, really laughed, with someone like this. Life’s dealt him a tough hand, but you’ve given him relief.

────୨ৎ────

Zach is organized. So organized that it sort of amazes you. Not only does he give you his, and in turn, your work schedule a month in advance through a color-coded calendar, but he also provides you with a meal plan for Ella so that you don’t have to worry about making one yourself.

The first day on your own with her is perfect. She’s energetic, well-behaved, and loves to talk. Zach left for training at noon and you were surprised that he found the time to text as much as he did. You replied to his every message asking for updates, sharing what you’re doing and reassuring him that Ella’s doing okay.

He gets home an hour after Ella’s bedtime. He’s been on edge all day, worrying that all this was too much, too fast for his little girl. Maybe he should have taken more time off.

You’re finishing up loading the dishwasher when you hear his keys jingling. You turn to greet him as he paces into the kitchen.

“Hey, how was bedtime?” he asks.

“We read three books and she asked me to stay with her until she fell asleep,” you tell him. “No issues.”

Zach sighs in relief. He never liked afternoon training because he missed bedtime. Ella preferred bedtime with her dad over with her mom. She preferred everything with her dad, really. But hearing that she wanted you to stay is reassuring.

“And she ate well?” he asks. He settles on one of the stools lining the kitchen counter, watching you cross the room to stand opposite him.

“Yes,” you tell him. “She was great.”

“Sorry if I was annoying with all the texts,” he says with a small, apologetic smile.

“You weren’t, but I wanted to let you know that it’s okay if you want to set up cameras. I know some parents like having live video they can tune into throughout the day.” You’d already noticed the security cameras outside when you first came to the house. You understand why he’d be so protective.

Zach threads his fingers through his dirty blond hair, damp from the shower he took in the training center’s locker room.

“Alright, I was definitely annoying if you’re offering to be surveilled,” he mumbles with a chuckle.

“No,” you laugh. “Ella did get a little frustrated, though. We were playing princesses and she said princesses aren’t supposed to go on their phones this much.”

Zach breathes a laugh. You’ve only been here for six days, but he hasn’t smiled this much in a long time.

“Thank you for all your work today,” he says. “I won’t keep you any longer.” You give him a bright smile and wish him a good night before you head out.

When Zach trudges upstairs, he peeks into Ella’s room. She’s sleeping peacefully, curled up with her favorite plushie. Now that he has a semblance of normalcy back in his life, he realizes that beneath the sadness and betrayal, he feels anger.

It’s not typical of him to feel angry. But Jade set everything ablaze when she abandoned them and he’s been left in the ashes, trying to stay level-headed while he’s choking on smoke.

He knows he lost Jade’s heart long ago. She lost his, too. It’s the fact that she broke their daughter’s without any hesitation – that’s what kills him.

────୨ৎ────

Zach never takes you up on the offer to have cameras installed. He starts to let go, little by little, eventually going a full day without sending a single check-in text. It’s gratifying to know you’ve earned his trust.

Before you know it, you’ve been Ella’s nanny for two months. She’s made herself a home in your heart. The only way you’d ever leave her is if you were told to, and you can’t even imagine being fired. Zach often checks in to see if you’re happy with your job and asks if there’s anything he can do to make things better. He clearly values you and doesn’t want to lose you.

It’s mid-morning when you’re playing with Ella on the living room floor and Zach comes through the front door. She rushes to him and you smile as you watch him drop his duffle bag and happily scoop his daughter up.

He had an away game last night and flew in early. His skin is blanched, dark half-circles under his eyes, but like always, he finds energy for his daughter. You admire it about him, how she’s never too much for him.

“There’s a plate for you in the kitchen,” you tell him when he meets your gaze.

“You don’t have to–”

“I know,” you say with a laugh. Zach has already told you many times that Ella’s the only one you have to feed, but you can tell he appreciates coming home to a meal. “There were leftovers.”

“Were there?” he asks, brows quirked, an unconvinced smirk on his lips.

You shrug and laugh again. You’ve grown into a friendly level of comfort with each other and you appreciate how you can joke around with him.

Zach sits in the dining room to eat, listening to Ella tell him all about her playdate yesterday. You tidy up the living room as you overhear her chat about how her friend was showing her ballet poses and how badly she wants lessons.

You’d sent Zach a courtesy text before you fell asleep in the guest room last night: We had a great day. She had a lot of fun on the playdate. Just so you’re prepared, she’s VERY into ballet now and is going to ask you if she can get lessons. Sending some options. Then, you sent him a few links to children’s dance classes in town.

You woke up to two texts from him. The first said: Appreciate the warning and the research. Am I crazy for holding on to hope that she’ll like soccer one day? You smiled at your screen. You’d briefly talked with Zach about how Ella has no interest in the sport her father dedicated his career to.

The second text from him, sent fifteen minutes later, read: Would you be alright with taking her to 6-6:45 pm classes on Wednesdays when I can’t? The season starts next week.

You replied when you woke up: Definitely.

You enter the dining room to see Ella hanging off her dad’s shoulders while he tries to eat, continuing to rattle on about how she’d never miss a lesson and would always listen in class.

“Alright, take a breath,” he chuckles. When he tells her you found her a class at a studio uptown and that he’ll enroll her if she’s sure she can commit, she squeals in delight. She hugs Zach, then runs over to hug you, too, nearly knocking you over.

“Easy,” her dad tells her. Ella asks you to turn on the ballet music playlist you found for her yesterday and launches into twirls across the living room.

“Remember what I said,” you tell her over the music. “If you start to get dizzy, you…?”

“Sit down, I know!” she shouts. You meet Zach’s eyes, both of you wearing smiles. You can see the fatigue on his face under the bright dining room light.

“Do you want me to stay another hour so you can catch up on sleep?” you offer. “I don’t mind.”

He knows his heart shouldn’t skip when he looks at you, but it does. He can’t help it. You don’t see this as a job you clock in and out of. You’ve integrated yourself into Ella’s life, into his life, so seamlessly. He doesn’t feel like you’re an employee here. You’re a friend who goes above and beyond to help. You’re someone who his daughter adores. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out.

He looks down at his plate, embarrassed, as if you can read his mind. His head has been doing this lately, rushing into thoughts of you that are much more than professional. He shouldn’t be thinking that his daughter’s nanny is beautiful.

“It’s okay,” he tells you. “You can head home. We’ll see you soon.”

You nod and call Ella over to look at the calendar Zach made. It’s a routine with her every time you leave. She likes knowing when you’ll be back.

When Zach heads upstairs to drop his things off into his bedroom, he stops when he passes the guest room. You left the door ajar. Even though you always keep it neat, only leaving an overnight bag on the nightstand, there’s a lived in feeling, a warmth in the room that never existed before.

Once again, he has to remind himself that you’re paid to be here. But it’s hard not to like you, because even when Jade was living here, he felt alone, whereas having you around makes it hard to ignore that life doesn’t feel all that empty anymore.

────୨ৎ────

“Which one’s yours?”

You look over to the man sitting next to you on the dance studio bleachers. Young girls hop and whirl over the glossy hardwood floor in a sea of pink tutus, five minutes into their lesson.

“Oh, I’m...” You point to Ella. “Her nanny.”

Ella’s been in ballet for a few weeks now and it’s all she talks about. Zach’s schedule allows him to take her to most of her classes, but this is the second one you’ve come to and you can see just how much she enjoys it.

You make small-talk with the man and a few other parents, which makes the time pass quickly. When you get back to the house, Ella scarfs down her dinner and falls asleep during the first book you read her. You’re sitting in the living room when Zach comes home from training.

He’s nearing playoff season and he’s mentioned that he has much more practices booked in his schedule. At this point, he welcomes how you always pretend to accidentally make too much food. He doesn’t expect you to prepare meals for him, but after you’d reassured him that you don’t mind since you’re cooking anyway, he’s relieved to know he’ll have dinner waiting for him tonight.

“Hey,” you greet him from your spot on the couch. “Ballet was the best idea ever. It really tires her out. Bedtime was a breeze.”

“Right?” Zach says with a smile, pulling off his jacket. You look away to avoid gaping at his biceps under his t-shirt. You thought he was good-looking the moment you met him and getting to know him has only made him more attractive.

“I’ve been wanting to ask if you’d like any help with her birthday,” you offer, turning the tv off and standing up. Ella’s fifth birthday is in a month.

“I have some ideas for her party that I’d like your opinion on,” Zach tells you. “Do you want to stay for a few minutes? Or I can just text you.”

“I can stay.”

He’s relieved to hear it. He doesn’t have many moments with you alone. Usually you’re like passing ships in the night, chatting for just a couple of minutes to catch each other up about Ella before one of you leaves the house, so any window of time with you is something he welcomes. Your presence is comforting.

You sit at the kitchen island together. Zach eats as you scroll through his phone, gazing at screenshots of party ideas he saved.

“Oh, she’d love this,” you say, stopping at a photo of ballerina-themed cupcakes. He gazes at you in awe as you look down at the screen. You’re genuinely delighted at the idea of giving his little girl a perfect birthday. “Do you want to have the party here?”

“Yeah, do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks.

“Yeah. If you’re worried about decorating or cleaning up, I’d come early and stay late,” you tell him, continuing to scroll. “She deserves something big.”

He nods, swallowing down his food, too distracted to go for another bite. He can’t wrap his head around how sweet you are. You have no connection to Ella at all, but you treat her like she’s yours. Sometimes more than her own mother did.

You’ve been here for nearly four months now, which in the grand scheme of things really isn’t that long, but he likes that you have such a deep sincerity to you that he can trust that you care about Ella. That you won’t leave.

You look up at him and he glances away, worried he’s been caught staring, clearing his throat.

“Do you know how many people you’re thinking of inviting?” you ask as you hand him back his phone.

Zach’s face falls as he scratches the back of his neck. You’re suddenly tense, the air of familiarity between you now thick and uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure,” he says.

“Sorry,” you say, nervous you crossed a line. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t,” he reassures you. “Sorry. I’ve just been going back and forth on whether I should invite her grandparents. From her mom’s side, I mean.”

“That must be hard,” you empathize.

“They’ve offered to visit a few times, but Ella hated the idea. She doesn’t even want to talk to them on the phone.”

“Was she like that before?” You don’t have to spell it out for him to know what you mean by before. The topic of Ella’s mom’s abandonment has been a silent cloud hanging over both of you.

“No,” Zach says. “I think she makes the connection that they’re her mom’s parents and she doesn’t want to be reminded of her.”

His lips close into a firm line.

“Well, I admire how you respect her comfort level and let her make decisions,” you say. “Maybe you start the conversation about who to invite and mention the grandparents to gauge her reaction?”

Zach nods, trying not to let his heart get carried away with the way it pounds from your words. He’s received compliments on his parenting from his friends and family, but you see the type of father he is more than anyone else these days. He cares about your opinion and it feels good to hear you approve.

“That’s a good idea,” he says. His fork clatters against his dish and he takes a deep breath before asking what’s been spinning in his head. “I figure you’d tell me, but… she hasn’t mentioned her mom, has she?”

You shake your head no. His forehead wrinkles in concern and it sends a pang to your chest. You lean a little closer, crossing the invisible boundary between you for the first time.

“She could just be processing,” you tell him. “And it might take her a while to talk about it. But she’s okay. She’s resilient. She got it from you.”

Zach hopes that he’s not blushing, but his cheeks are burning. He’s sure you’d be able to tell, but thankfully, you look down and stand straight again, as if what you just said wasn’t one of the most significantly unforgettable things he’s ever been told.

Ella is practically a physical copy of her mother. Zach never minded. But hearing that you think his daughter inherited his adaptability, one thing he’s always prided himself on, feels good.

He wasn’t very confident that he’s been doing a great job at adjusting since Jade left and you just lifted a weight off his shoulders without even realizing it.

“Thank you,” he says. You desperately want to ask how he’s been since his wife left, but you’re afraid you’ve already crossed a line with your boss tonight and you certainly don’t want to risk doing it again.

“Sure,” you reply. “I should go. But I’ll let you know if I think of any ideas for the party. I think the ballerina theme is the way to go. This place will be so pink.”

Zach laughs, trying to ignore the way his chest hollows when you expand the distance between you, stepping away.

“Can’t wait,” he says. “Thanks for dinner.”

“There were leftovers,” you reply, even though both of you are already well aware that every time you say that, it’s not true.

────୨ৎ────

It’s only half an hour into Ella’s birthday party and you’re spent. You’re reaching for napkins from the cupboard to clean up a spill in the dining room. When you turn out of the kitchen, a girl runs past you, tripping and accidentally pouring most of her juice onto your dress.

“Sorry,” she says worryingly, eyes wide as she stares up at you.

“It’s okay,” you reply with a giggle, dabbing at the fabric with one of the napkins. “I came prepared.”

Zach just entered the room, witnessing the moment, wondering if he’s ever going to see you do anything that won’t just push him deeper into his crush on you. But once again, his head is no match for his heart when it comes to you.

He’s been trying not to lose his mind today and it’s not because of the chaotic party that’s taken over his house. It’s because it’s the first time he’s seen you in a dress. While it’s appropriate for the occasion, it shows enough of your figure to make his mouth go dry.

You toss the napkin in the garbage, collect more, then start to make your way to the dining room, looking up to find Zach’s eyes.

“Hey,” you say over the noise. He realizes that your voice somehow settles his pulse and makes it race at the same time. “There might not be enough napkins in the world for this party.”

“Invite everyone she wants,” he teases, imitating the way you convinced him to go along with Ella’s idea to invite all twelve kids from her ballet class.

“I take it back,” you chuckle. When you move past him, the fresh scent of his cologne dances over you and it’s so nice that you don’t want to leave his side. But you shake away the thought and tidy up the spill, then head to the living room to mingle.

It’s better to keep your distance from Zach. You have to remind yourself of it almost every day now. You’d been spending more time together to plan Ella’s party and at this point, it’s actually frustrating how kind and funny and charming and perfect he is.

It took a few evenings of party-planning at the house, your voices low as Ella slept upstairs, to start to get to know each other outside of your job. You’ve learned little things about him, like that he’s left-handed, and that he has a sister ten years younger than him and growing up with her helped him practice parenting, and that he likes a cup of tea before bed because it relaxes him.

You also noticed that he drifts into a more timid version of himself whenever the topic of his profession comes up. You’d mentioned that Ella could eventually grow an interest in soccer, that you’d take her to one of his home games if she wanted, and he nodded with a shy smile, saying he liked the idea.

Every side of him is intriguing, and while your conversations haven’t fallen into anything too personal, you want to know more about him past the friendly distance that stands between you.

Ella quickly darts past Zach in the kitchen and he reminds her that tag is an outside game. He’s relieved that she seems happy and careless today.

He’d asked her about inviting her mom’s parents and she answered with a quiet no. He called them to tell them that this birthday would be too difficult to celebrate together and they understood, opting to send a present in the mail.

Zach is glad he took your advice. As he rounds the corner, he sees you chatting with Ella’s friend’s dad. You probably know him from ballet. Zach has spoken with him, too. He knows the man is divorced.

Jealousy swirls in his chest. He shouldn’t care about you talking to another man. Even though you’ve started to share more about your lives with each other and he’s pretty sure you’re single, you could have a boyfriend you haven’t mentioned.

Again, while he tells himself not to feel things for you, it’s so much easier said than done. He has to look away, wondering why he feels like someone who’s not even his is being taken from him.

All the stress leaves your body the minute the last attendee leaves through the front door. It was a great party, but it was exhausting.

Ella’s eating her dinner as you, Zach, and his family tackle the mess. You make conversation with her while you clean the kitchen, happy to hear her rave about what a good birthday she had.

She asks if you can cuddle her for bedtime. Zach overhears and trudges into the kitchen, crumpled decorations in his hands. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and you try to ignore the fact that the mere sight of his forearms makes your stomach go numb with butterflies.

“It’s been a long day,” he says to you quietly. “I can take bedtime.”

“I got it,” you reply. He mirrors your smile. You like that he’s not the type of parent to be bitter that his own kid prefers you sometimes. He’s just happy that Ella’s happy.

When you’re leaning back in Ella’s bed, chatting as you wait for her to doze off, her arm is draped over your body and her cheek is on your shoulder. She’s grown to be totally comfortable with you, always taking the opportunity to be affectionate.

Your eyelids are heavy as you ramble about what she’ll be doing with her grandparents and aunt in the next few days, as they’ll be staying in town for a bit. Zach gave you the next three days off since childcare will be covered.

“I heard your grandma say something about taking you to the beach tomorrow,” you tell her. “Are you excited?”

“Will you come, too?” she asks. You chuckle softly, kissing the top of her head.

“I have work, remember?” you tell her. You and Zach had decided long ago that you don’t want to tell her you’re paid to be here, that your job is taking care of her. You always just refer to yourself as her dad’s friend.

“Okay,” she sighs. She lets out a big yawn. “If I tell someone my birthday wish, will it not become true anymore?”

“I’m pretty sure the rule is that you can tell one grown-up,” you play along, “and it’ll still come true.” She nuzzles in. You assume she’ll mention a gift she wanted but didn’t receive today.

“I wished that you were my mommy,” she mumbles into the dark.

Your throat tightens and your heart sinks and you hate that the sweet, innocent child clinging onto you has to carry the weight of being abandoned. You kiss the top of her head again and try not to cry.

“I love you, okay?” you tell her. She nods and squeezes you tighter and within minutes, her breathing grows deeper.

When you head downstairs, you see that almost all of the mess has been tidied up. Zach is hauling a full garbage bag to the front door, giving you a tired smile when he sees you.

“Do you need any help with–”

“Go home,” he interrupts, faking irritation. You laugh in defeat.

“Fine.” You step into the living room to say goodbye to his family, antsy to have some time to yourself so that you don’t have to force down your tears any longer.

A few seconds after the door shuts behind you, Zach remembers that he’d set aside a container of leftover treats from the party for you.

You pace down the sidewalk into the cool evening air, unlocking your car remotely, unable to stop your tears from building. When you hear Zach call your name, you quickly wipe at your eyes, realizing you’ve smudged your make-up.

“There were leftovers,” he says when you turn to look at him.

“That’s my line,” you try to joke. You take the container. “Thanks.”

He notices the shine in your eyes immediately.

“Are you alright?” Zach asks softly. You gaze up at him, heart breaking a little more at the concern in his expression.

“Just a busy day,” you tell him.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Or– yeah, but I was going to tell you later. Without the tears.” You offer a pathetic laugh to break the tension, but he’s too worried to laugh, too.

“What is it?” he asks.

You look up to Ella’s bedroom window. The first time you’d walked up to this house, you were oblivious to the fact that the two people living in it would steal your heart. You know you need to tell him what his daughter said. But you’d hoped you’d have more time to process it.

“Before bed,” you say, your voice thin, “she told me she wished I was her mom.”

It takes all the air out of Zach’s lungs. He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s without words. He crosses his arms, looking down at the pavement.

“I know. It’s a lot,” you mumble. Your temples ache as more tears build up, frustrated that this is Zach and Ella’s reality. “It just makes me so sad. I don’t want to say anything bad about your ex-wife, but I don’t understand how she could just leave you two. Has she not called to check in on her? Or to wish her a happy birthday?”

Your heart starts to thrum even harder. Your words were impulsive, surprising you even though you’re the one who said them, and the fear that you just crossed a line and exposed your feelings for him rushes through you.

“No,” is all Zach is able to say. He stares at you, speechless, biting the inside of his cheek.

“When Ella said… what she said, I told her that I love her,” you say. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” he says, his tone tender. Your lips twist into a sad smile. You want to hug him. But you step back. Because he’s still your boss and you don’t want him to think you can’t remain professional. You’re already anxious and regretful that you brought up Ella’s mom.

“Thank you,” you say. “I should go. Good night.”

Zach’s dazed the rest of the evening. He watches you drive off. He goes back inside to finish cleaning up. He spends time with his parents and sister, but soon heads upstairs to sleep, too distracted to keep up conversation.

His mind keeps him awake as he lies in bed. He stares up at the darkened ceiling, watching the shadow of the trees by his window rustle in the wind. In a matter of a minute, your relationship reached a new level of vulnerability.

And now that he has time to wade through his feelings, beneath the pain he feels for Ella and what she told you, he can’t deny that his heart fluttered when you said you don’t understand how someone could leave him and his daughter. Maybe you feel the same way about him.

This is not just a crush. He’s falling for you.

────୨ৎ────

You stare at the text Zach sent you a few minutes ago as you brush your teeth the next morning.

Sorry for bothering you on your day off but Ella has asked me about 50 times (give or take) if I can ask you to come to the beach today. I told her you’re busy but you know her. No pressure but we’d all love to have you. Would count as a work day, of course.

It was already hard to keep your feelings for Zach at bay when all you can think about is his smile and his voice and the way he makes you feel more comfortable than any man ever has, but now, you’re afraid it might be awkward when you see him. You’d said something so heavy last night, then left abruptly.

Nonetheless, the love you have for Ella and the love you’re starting to have for Zach is louder than the worry you’re feeling.

You reply: Don’t count it as work. It’s how I’d like to spend my day off. When and where?

A minute later, he sends you the address and time.

It’s late morning when you text Zach that you’ve arrived at the beach. He heads to the parking lot, leaving his parents, sister, and daughter by the shoreline so that he can speak to you alone. He hates that he was too in shock to thank you last night. But it was all so much to take in.

He spots you pulling a bag out of your trunk, greeting you with a soft “hey” to not startle you. It’s so nice to know that you’re here because you want to be.

You turn to see Zach in his swim shorts, his hair wet, water droplets scattered atop his muscles. You close the trunk, hoping he didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered.

“Hey. What’d you tell Ella about the ‘work’ I had today?” you ask, trying to establish a lighthearted tone. “Did my boss let me leave early?”

“We can say that,” he says with a smile. “He sounds like a good guy.”

“He is. It’s my other boss that’s kind of a nightmare,” you joke.

Zach takes you in, squinting a bit.

“You don’t really think of me as your boss, do you?” he asks, realizing he hates the implication. It makes him feel like even thinking about you as more than a friend is deeply unethical. Like there’s a power imbalance and he’s taking advantage of it somehow.

You still for a moment.

“I mean, I don’t know,” you chuckle. “It doesn’t feel like it, but aren’t you?”

“I guess.” His brows furrow. “It just doesn’t sound right.”

“How about we say… Ella’s my boss? And yours, too, now that I think about it.”

Zach laughs, “That works for me.” He nervously crosses his arms. “Uh… before we go, I wanted to thank you for handling last night so well. I think you said exactly what she needed to hear.”

Your face drops slightly. Remembering the way Ella sounded when she told you her wish, resigned but hopeful, breaks your heart every time you think about it.

“Of course,” you say. It’s a relief that he’s not upset about anything you said. “Is she doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Being her usual self. I didn’t tell her you were coming, so she’ll be excited.” The way you smile at the idea of making her happy is something he’s grown to adore about you.

You make your way to the shoreline, and as expected, Ella squeals when she sees you, running straight for you. You crouch to hug her tightly, thrilled that you were invited today.

You sit on a line of towels with Zach and his parents and his sister while Ella explains to you what kind of sandcastle she wants to make. You make conversation with everyone over the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and eventually, you point out a small rubber ball by the cooler.

“You wanna play soccer?” you ask Ella.

“I’m not good at it,” she replies.

“You have the best coach right here,” you say, pointing to Zach. “Let’s give it a try. Maybe we can all work together to score a goal against your dad.”

Zach smiles in surprise when Ella actually agrees. You help him create a makeshift goal line with pebbles and shells as Ella kicks the ball over the sand with her grandparents and aunt. After you set up, you join Ella while Zach makes an exaggerated show of stretching.

“Is that how you always warm up?” you ask him.

“Is there something wrong with it?” he answers. Ella laughs as he dramatically stretches. By now, you can tell by the type of dad he is that he was always on the playful side.

Ella imitates his stretching, then determination flashes over her face and she darts forward to try to kick the ball past him without warning. Zach pretends to be too slow to react, reaching after the ball has already whizzed past him, and lets out a defeated groan.

He picks his daughter up as she jumps in victory, jokingly demanding she tell him when she got so good at soccer. You smile as you watch them share a moment of joy in the sun.

“Ella, would you ever want to go to one of your dad’s games?” you offer.

“Yeah!” she exclaims.

“Yeah?” Zach says. “Why don’t you say yeah whenever I ask?”

“Just take the win, Zach,” you say with a laugh. He grins, loving the way his name sounds when it comes from you.

You enjoy the rest of the afternoon, talking with Zach’s family, playing with Ella, catching glances at Zach when he’s not looking. They invite you to dinner, but you politely decline, figuring you should give them time alone. You thank them for the fun and go home feeling lighter than you did when you woke up.

That evening, as Connie helps Zach clean up after dinner, she mentions how good you are for Ella. He glances down at his mom as she hands him a rinsed plate to put in the dishwasher.

“She really is,” Zach agrees.

“I think she’s good for you, too,” she says with a hint of a smile.

“Real subtle, Mom,” he chuckles nervously. “It’s not like that.”

“Alright,” she says with an unconvinced tone. She takes a beat. “I just need to say–”

“Of course you do,” he mumbles with an amused smirk.

“–that I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time,” she speaks over him. “I haven’t seen you be you. But you are again, especially when she’s around. It’s just nice to see you smiling so much again. I know things have been tough for you.”

Zach’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. His mom is right; things have been tough, even before Jade left. He desperately wanted companionship, to at least come home to someone he could call a friend, but Jade couldn’t give him what he needed. He hasn’t felt full of life in a long time. Not until you knocked on his door.

“I’m better now,” he says.

Connie nods, sadness filling her features as she pulls Zach in for a side-hug.

“Hey, I’m alright,” he consoles her. “Don't worry about me.”

“You’re a parent. You should know the worrying never stops.” She pulls back. “So, you’re really going to deny it? I see the way you look at her.”

Zach shakes his head with an exaggerated scoff.

“You’re relentless,” he jokes.

“You used to tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “She looks at you the same way, you know.”

“Mom.”

Connie laughs and hands him another plate. He knows that the idea of you looking at him the way he looks at you won’t leave his mind any time soon.

(part two)

[starry-bi-sky]

do yall ever think about bruce/batman!clone danny standing in front of his bathroom mirror after finding out he was a clone and silently tracing his face. The slope of his jaw and point of his chin. The high angle of his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, the curve of his brow bones and the shape of his nose. The volume of his hair and the way it curls and gets fluffy when it gets too long.

His hair is black the same way a crow's wing is black. His dad's hair is black the same way a black bear's fur is black. His dad's eyes are blue like the ocean is blue. Danny's eyes are blue the same way a glacier is blue.

His dad has a square jaw and straight flat hair, and he tans and gets a face full of freckles when he's out in the sun for too long. Danny burns like a lobster and his face remains untouched. Danny has a sharp jaw and tall cheekbones, and Sam says when he's not smiling there's almost something regal about him. You would never call Jack Fenton "regal" when he's not smiling.

Sam says when he's not smiling he looks scary the same way a stone statue is. Jack Fenton when he's not smiling looks scary the same way that german shepherd staring at you across the street is.

Do you ever think he grew up wondering if he was adopted. Because of course, he has black hair and blue eyes like his dad. But having the same color doesn't make you someone's child.

Or, worse, things he's heard from the other kids and the other parents and even some of his teachers growing up; that he was the product of an affair. And that his dad was just too stupid to notice. And Danny would defend his parents until the day he died, because Jack Fenton wasn't an idiot and Maddie Fenton wasn't a cheater.

But doubt comes in with fickle tongue. his parents swear up and down that he is their child when he asks about either. That Danny just had his grandparents' features, but he was their son and they loved him.

But Danny doesn't look like either of his parents. His mom's eyes are blue like an aquamarine and Jazz's too. And they burn like lobsters in the sun too, but Jazz gets freckles on her face and so does Maddie. And as Danny grows up he doesn't bulk up or get stocky like his dad did, and when he hits puberty he doesn't shoot up like a tree like Jack Fenton did.

He stays small, and they say he's a late bloomer (and he is), or that he just has his mom's height. But he's fast and has good stamina, and some days it feels like he's built entirely different from his family. That the things they went through growing up just didn't apply to him. Jack and Maddie Fenton both had acne and breakouts when they hit puberty, and Jazz inherits it and he's seen the amount of skincare products she keeps on her side of the bathroom.

And then he hits puberty and breaks out maybe once or twice, but his skin stays clear for the most part and the problems and changes his dad went through just don't happen to him.

And the truth is worse than all of the lies.

How horrifying.

[plush0fairy]

WHAAATTT OH MY GOD ITS MORE THAN OKAY WOWOW

Hypo Hypo

Wanted to design some meow meows so i dragged @plush0fairy 's meow's into it >:)

[doumadono]

Hi, sweets 🍭 I'd like to request deaf Bakugo headcanons - just him interacting with his little girl that demands his attention as she wants him to play with her (she is aware dad is a little off because he can't hear)

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

As Bakugo's hearing begins to fade periodically with time, his little girl starts noticing the subtle changes.

The little girl, at the age of 5, struggles to understand why her dad doesn't always respond the way others do. When you, her mom, gently explains Bakugo's hearing challenges, the girl takes it all in, absorbing the information.

To bridge the gap, the little girl asks you to teach her some basic signs. With wide-eyed enthusiasm, she practices and learns the signs, eager to communicate better with her dad.

She comes up with creative ways to catch Bakugo's attention - a gentle tap on his lap, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, or sometimes just grabbing one of the merchandise plushies you collect at home and presenting it to him.

deaf!Bakugo, in turn, has developed a keen sense of visual awareness to understand all of his little girl's signals.

Despite being aware that her dad is a bit different, she continues to demand his attention for playtime! deaf!Bakugo, unaware that his daughter is learning sign language, is pleasantly surprised one day when she excitedly signs to him, asking him to play with her. His heart brims with love and pride, witnessing the earnest effort she's making to connect with him, and he finds it challenging to hold back tears in the middle of the living room.

deaf!Bakugo often engages in games that don't rely heavily on sound but thrive on shared moments. Building intricate block towers, drawing colorful masterpieces, and playing with dolls become their cherished activities!

When it's playtime, Bakugo's face lights up with a soft smile as he watches his daughter's enthusiasm. He might not hear her words and laughter, but he feels the warmth of her joy radiating through the room.

deaf!Bakugo has developed a set of creative signals and cues to respond to his daughter's requests. Whether it's a gentle tap on the shoulder or a specific hand gesture, they have established their own silent language.

As deaf!Bakugo gradually loses his hearing completely, his daughter's ability to communicate with him through signs becomes an invaluable bridge that allows them to share laughter, love, and a world of understanding.

Despite being a hero and handling the challenges of his job, there are moments when deaf!Bakugo, alone in his office while working from home, breaks down. The silence around him reminds him of the laughter of his beloved little girl he can't hear anymore, and it hits him emotionally.

The very first time they finish playing with his daughter's dolls and plushies, Bakugo's heart melts and he can't hold back tears as his little girl approaches him, using sign language to say, "Thank you for playing with me. I love you, Daddy."

The girl is a little scared seeing her dad crying as it is an extremely rare sight. So, she climbs onto his lap, strokes his rough cheeks marked by many scars from the battles he fought, and signs at him, "Daddy, don't cry, I love you. I'll hug you, and it will be okay."

[sugarlywhispers]

Thinking about Pro Hero!Dynamight and Pro Hero!Lavagirl!Reader's children.

Both heroes are desperately hurrying their way towards a scene after receiving a call that their children, Bakugou Saori, their girl of 7 years old, and Bakugou Kei, their little boy of 5 years old, are being held hostage by a villain.

The scumbag recognized them on their school visit to an aquarium with their respective classes, and took the chance.

It was inevitable that people would recognize them. They are the children of two of the most powerful heroes of this generation.

The villain thought it would be easy to capture them and hold them until he got what he wanted from their parents; they are children, it's a piece of cake!

However, he didn't count on the possibility that these kids… these fucking kids already developed their Quirks!

The little girl turns out to be a pain in the villain's ass, as she keeps exploding lava rocks in her little hands and throws them at the villain's face, burning him. And well, the little boy isn't a saint either as he keeps spraying some kind of water from his little hands towards the villain, but with a little clap the fucking “water” turned into lava.

The villain feels in literal agony with these two troublesome kids. But it is until he manages a slap hard on the little girl's face that makes them both finally cooperate.

Saori, of course, resembles a lot of characteristics of her father. Her hair is blonde, almond-shaped eyes that give her a piercing kind of stare, like her dad –if she wasn't a toddler, that stare would make more than one person piss their pants. Little Kei, on the other hand, is all you. Big round and curious eyes that look excited at everything, and your same hair color.

But where Saori looks a lot like her dad, she has details that resemble her mother, you. While Saori's hair is blonde, it cascades down her small back smoothly and beautifully like her mother's. While her eyes are the same shape her father's are, they are not red. They are a beautiful mix of yours and Katsuki's. Where little Kei's hair is the same color as yours, it is an exact copy of his father's spiky style. And while his eyes are round and big as yours, they are as deep red as his dad's.

When it comes to personality, well… Saori is clearly Katsuki's child. Yet toned down a bit thanks to your influence as a mom. She is a good girl, a daddy's girl. And of course she plays –a bit roughly in your opinion– with her dad, involving Katsuki holding her upside down by one foot and her laughing her little lungs out, enjoying it. But when she gets very angry, it's clearly Katsuki's heated blood in there (you always send Katsuki to deal with the little demon when she gets like that). Little Kei, on the contrary, is all you. Kind, chill, mommy's boy, a saint-like little boy who loves to follow butterflies around holding your hand as you follow him too (and a shameless thief –because yes, he has stolen you from Katsuki at times).

It's Saori's personality that has her yelling at the villain, “My dad will kick your ass hard!!”, tears running down her cheeks, one of them clearly bright red from the slap, while hugging her little brother in protection.

And even though little Kei is crying too, he also yells, "Yeah!! And it's going to hurt!"

They warned the villain. And they were entirely right.

The moment Pro Hero Dynamight and Pro Hero Y/H/N arrived at the scene, it's chaos.

The only thing in this set of parents' minds is to get back their kids. No fucking matter how. To have them in their arms, safe and sound. Dynamight doesn't fucking care if his explosion goes a bit harder than it should. And Y/H/N doesn't fucking care if your lava burns the villain's skin alive, when you directed a whip towards him, circling his arm and pulling him back from trying to avoid Dynamight's fire.

It all happens strenuously fast.

You feel the air finally enter your lungs once you hold both of your kids in your arms. Both kids crying, “Mommy!!” while their little arms surround your neck.

“It's okay, my loves, you're okay,” you hold back your own cry, but your eyes are clearly filled with tears, “Mom and Dad are here.”

You immediately feel Katsuki's big arms surround you three in a hug from the other side. He kisses each kid over their heads, closing his eyes and breathing their scent deep. They are fine. They are finally safe. All of you are in his arms, safe.

The children turn around and also hug their dad crying. Katsuki doesn’t say anything, he simply holds them, knowing fully well they need to feel protected. He turns his face a bit and lovingly pecks Kei's chubby and wet from his tears cheek. But when he turns to do the same to Saori, she yelps at the contact and that's when he notices her little cheek red, turning purple-ish.

Bakugou Katsuki sees red.

He kisses the little girl's forehead, before grunting, “Take the kids away, Y/N.”

You know that tone in his voice. You don't wait a second before picking up both kids and sliding away with your lava. Away from the grotesque scene you know your husband is about to create thanks to the hard and bloody beating Katsuki is going to give to that villain.

You hope the signal you gave Izuku is enough to make him understand that they will need to hold Katsuki back. Because if they don't, he's soooo going to kill the villain.

a.n; a head is going to roll on the ground lol🤭