#the part that makes sure the kids are fed and dressed and ready for school

[dickheadcanons]

Your brain is literally gynormous. Do you think Damian's and Dick's relationship is paternal? Because, as someone who has actually had to raise their sibling (do not recommend) it looks more like a guy that had too much in his plate trying to be the best caregiver he could, but not really being a parent, if that makes sense. I feel like the idea of him wanting to adopt him feels like kind of a retcon, couldn't really see it in the og run. But of course, it could be because it's not exactly the same as my experience (abusive father, incapable mother, yknow the drill). What do you think? All your posts are so good.

Also while you're at it, what do you think of Dick as a parent? Some elseworlds have played with the concept, and main continuity did something too with Olivia but T*m Tayl*r fucked that up too. I also wonder how Damian would be as a dad, but I don't think I've ever seen any stories with it.

omg anon thank you and thank you for asking!! this is literally one of my favorite topics!! i was thinking about making a post on this and now you gave me the excuse for it!!

Long story short, I don't think that “parental” is a binary thing. I mean, I know several bio-parents who are just guys with too much on their plates, trying to be the best they can, you know? And people can see parent figures in all kinds of relationships that aren’t blood or traditional moms/dads, especially with people who didn't know each other from birth. There are a million ways to be parented, and a million ways to act as a parent.

The way I think about it is, is Dick Damain's John Grayson? No, I don't think so.

But is Dick Damian's Bruce Wayne? Yes. Totally. Absolutely.

More under the cut bc I have a lot of thoughts.

I think to talk about Dick and Damian, we have to start with Dick and Bruce. So much about Dick and Damian is a reflection of the original Dynamic Duo, and I think that's very much the case with this element as well. From the start of their very long comic history, Dick and Bruce have been dancing around their relationship. We get early comics that say they're "like" father and son, we have Bruce saying he couldn't care about Dick more than if he was Bruce's son, but we also have places where they call each other their best friends, where they act more like brothers, etc etc.

When it comes to who our parents are, I think there is the responsibility, and the result. Certain people have the responsibility, the duty, to be our parents, and sometimes (because death or illness or being shitty people), they aren't able to meet those responsibilities. That never removes the responsibility; they don't stop being the parent. But they aren't able to create the result of us becoming good stable adults. That's where other people can step in, where the parental figure appears, and those are the people that we actually point to when we say "they made me the person I am today."

In fandom, we see a lot of Dick not wanting Bruce to replace his father, of him asking not to be adopted. I think this is a fine characterization that works with who Dick is, but Bruce is actually the one to say that he is not going to replace Dick's father. He says it completely unprompted, too. This is withholding the responsibility of being Dick's parent from Bruce, keeping him at a distance and reserving it as an honor for someone who can't hold it anymore, even as Bruce demands responsibility for literally everything else about Dick.

And I think that it's very telling of what Bruce's idea of a father is. The thing about having a dead parent at a young age is that the person of your parents is still tangled in the role of parent in your life; Mom is mom, not Martha, and because she's dead, the image of both Martha and "mom" is frozen. For Bruce, the relationship of father and son is frozen in the relationship of specifically his father and him. Of course Bruce is not Dick's father; Bruce himself is so different from what his conception of a father is. And as a fellow son, for Bruce, someone who just got back from 7 years abroad studying to be Batman, for whom the nearly 20 year old wound is still fresh, the idea of even wanting another father doesn't make sense, particularly for a boy that Bruce identifies with so hard that he becomes the third person ever to know who Batman is.

This looming memory is even worse when it's Dick's turn to be Batman. While Bruce looks at Dick and sees the memory of his own loss, the shadow of his own grief, Dick is looking at Damian and seeing Bruce. Dick knows very well who Damian lost; Dick is grieving what Damian lost more than Damian is. Bruce couldn't conceive of replacing a father, but Dick is struggling to imagining himself replacing Bruce at his job, much less who he was in his personal relationships.

But even if Damian isn't Dick's responsibility, Dick doesn't hesitate to care about Damian's future. "Who's going to save him if we don't?" At the start of the DickBats era, Dick isn't looking at Damian as a family member, really. He's looking at Damian as a victim, abet a very involved, very dangerous one. It's how Bruce looked at Dick too, before he had any reason to know that this kid would become something more to him. But, like Bruce, what Dick does to save Damian is bring him into the thing that is most precious to him; Batman. The mission. Saving people. A way to live in the world.

I know saying someone is the Batman to their Robin is like, a joke at this point. Something unbelievably cheesy. But you google "iconic duos" and Batman and Robin are one of the first responses. There's a reason for the joke. So imagine you are Robin, and your Batman is dead. And you have to go and find a new partner. Dick making Damian his Robin is heavy, just as heavy to me as adoption papers. Bruce made Dick his partner without any idea of what that meant. Dick, and the audience, had 70 years of expectation on what Dick and Damian could be. Dick making Damian Robin was a very specific claim, far stronger imo than just claiming him as a son would have been.

Because, to be honest (and speak to your other question), I don't think Dick thinks a lot about being a parent. I don't really think it's that important to him. Dick is a leader, a mentor, he deals with a ton of teenagers and kids through his vigilante work, he goes to Tim's sidekick parent's meetings and takes Jason skiing and more than that, he's also young. He's in his 20s. He should be at the club. I think he probably thinks he'll have kids in an abstract way, but it's not something he's looking for, consciously or unconsciously. He's not searching for connection, or to fix his mistakes or his past, the things that lead Bruce to adopting sidekicks. He'd be a great dad, and I think we see him being pretty good with his Elseworlds kids, but Dick is a very practical person, and him taking a kid in (vs finding somewhere else they can go) is not really the practical choice.

Except for one kid. There's just been one kid with legitimately no where else to go, where Dick is truly the only option, because going home meant only bad things for him. Dick made Damian part of his family in the ways that mattered to them both in that moment. With their lives, adoption doesn't really make a huge material difference on custody (if Damian wanted to leave, Dick couldn't have stopped him; Damian has access to basically unlimited money and can feed and clothe and wash himself. and possibly already has a phd.), and Dick wanted Damian to choose, anyway. If I recall correctly, Dick says he didn't think about taking Damian with him until Bruce comes back. He thought about taking Damian with him, thought that Damian might be better with Dick (his partner!!!!) than even with Bruce, his dad, the person Dick loves so much, only in the face of them being separated.

Meanwhile Damian, for all his blustering about how Dick needs to "earn" his respect, warms up to Dick startlingly quickly. For Damian, who had never known a father, who in his initial run hadn't even known his mother for more than two years, whose other male family is Ra’s al Ghul, his father is Batman. Even in Tomasi's kinder depiction of Damian's childhood, Damian only knows the Bat. And when he meets Bruce, the first thing he expresses is disappointment. Bruce the man is underwhelming and then goes and dies. So much for the mythic hero!

And then he meets Dick. Who manages to teach Damian something, who doesn't discount his skills even when he's wrong. Who proves that he is better at being Batman than Damian, and shows that he wants Damian around. And, even more importantly, who doesn't die. Dick is stable in a world constantly in flux. Damian screws up a lot in that run, and he leaves for long stretches of it, but Dick is always there when he gets back. There's no blame here, but the truth is that Dick is the one who stays.

Bruce was Damian's father, but what does that mean to someone whose never met a father at all? Bruce might have tried to connect with Damian before he died, but he doesn’t do it in a way that works. He doesn’t give Damian trust, he doesn’t encourage him in the ways Damian finds important…the first person to do that is Dick. Dick gives Damian responsibility, makes him part of the team. It could be argued that Damian didn’t deserve it, but we’re not talking about deserving. We’re talking about what worked. It sounds like as good an idea as making a tiny 8 year old acrobat a sidekick, but it undeniably worked for both Damian and Dick. Does that mean that either of these relationships were parental in the way that we think of it in the real world, in the way that a child psychologist would say is good and healthy? I have no idea. But they are the most parental in the absence of any other parents, and I think that means a lot.

Unfortunately, we don't get to actually see the dissolution of Dick and Damian's partnership. DC conveniently skips over showing us Bruce coming back and Dick becoming Nightwing again; preNew 52, Dick is still Batman with Damian even when Bruce returns, and in the New 52, he's been Batman "Before" and we don't really see the end, just a vague aftermath. But if it did take that kind of change to make them realize their relationship had a flavor of "parent and child", had the makings of something like a father and son, well, they'd just be following in the original Batman's footprints.

[petriwriting]

Father of the Year - Dad!Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Pure domestic bliss. Female reader. suggestive ending.

"Good morning, Dolcezza."

You are met with the dreamy eyes of your Husband, Theodore Nott. His eyes are tired, you can tell. But he has been awake longer than you, as he is already dressed and wearing his expensive cologne. He smells sweet, like the sea. you nestle into him as he lays by your side in bed. you yawn and stretch, before leaning up after a few minutes.

"I made you breakfast." He says gently rubbing your arm. "The kids are already dressed and fed," he continues. "So you can take your time." You nodded and kissed him. It was sweet when he allowed his more nurturing side to come out. It's part of the reason why you married him.

You scurried off, stopping himself in the doorway. "The shower is on for you, should be warm by now." He added. you couldn't be happier. you smiled. looking through your closet for a comfortable linen dress to wear. You spent a little bit longer than usual getting ready. It was refreshing to have a little bit extra time to look after yourself since lately you had really been focussed on your children. They were the product of a beautiful marriage and made your family truly beautiful.

There was Theodore Junior, named after his father. He went by Teddy for short. and despite his name, he took after you sharing a very similar personality. He was feisty, with dreamy eyes like his father and a head of dark curls. he was younger than his sister. Alessandra, after Theodore's mother. Sandra for short. She was an absolute daddy's girl. she took after her father in the way that she was quiet, and very clever even for a young girl. you had blossomed into such a beautiful family.

Once you had showered, changed, brushed your hair and teeth you were ready to start your day. as you made your way through the hallway of the Nott manor, which was newly renovated and populated with people who would cherish it. Once you entered the kitchen, you saw that your breakfast was all set up for you, everything down to the glass of orange juice, and the pleasantly scented lit candle on the table.

while you ate, Theodore had emerged, dressed in a cape with a cardboard microphone. "ahem," he says finally as you begin your meal. "From the playwrights Teddy & Alessandra Nott,"

Teddy emerges, dressed as described, a 'zombie dragon'. He was wearing his fathers old slytherin scarf wrapped around his head and neck, with cardboard scales attached down his back and finally some green winter gloves. He looks absolutely adorable. Alessandra is wearing a glittery gown with a shiny crown on her head, she is holding a makeshift wand.

"I present to you the Princess and the Dragon." Theodore says. He steps aside and quickly grabs another toy prop, a sword. As you enjoy your breakfast with a cup of fresh hot tea, you watched the play unfold.

It is a very compelling story about a brave knight who saves a princess by fighting off a dragon. super original stuff and a very compelling story.

After finishing your breakfast you enjoy watching your family bond. The kids are very sweet, and they love their father dearly. Alessandra starts cleaning up after their play concludes with your applause. "That was beautiful!" you cheer encouragingly. After tidying up Theodore helps his kids make sure everything is put away. "Why don't you give your audience a hug?" he suggests to his daughter. Alessandra runs up to you and opens her arms. "I love you mama." She says kissing your cheek.

"I love you too dear." you say. Teddy caught on, a little bit jealous. "Mama I want a hug!" he says, hugging you and his sister tightly. "Of course." You embraced your children tenderly, and once you realized the time you were panicked with worry. they would not be late but you needed to leave very soon. "Come on now kids, it's time for school." Theodore says. Your children then gather their school bags and follow their father out to door where he would walk them off to school. Theodore had enchanted the dishes, which were previously dirty, now being washed in the kitchen. your husband loved acts of service to show how much he loves and cares for you. It was why you fell in love with him in your younger years.

"Good bye mommy" your children chimed before heading out the door with their father. You were in love with this family you had created. you would be heartbroken when the time came for them to go to hogwarts, but were also elated for them to have that experience. You couldn't help but think of when the day came as you toyed with Theodore's old scarf from his school days. You could clearly remember the day you first noticed him wearing it.

After a few moments you found yourself curling up on the couch. shortly after relaxing and settling in, Theodore came back. "That was a beautiful play. Compliments to the writers." you said with a chuckle. "They have been planning and rehearsing that for months." Theodore admitted. "It was adorable," He said sitting next to you on the couch, your head rested on his shoulder. "Thank you for everything this morning." Theodore leaned back so he was facing you. "You shouldn't have to thank me for looking after my family." He says, gently putting a piece of your hair behind your ear. "That includes you." He reminded you. you were thankful and offered a slight smile.

After a few moments his eyes had hypnotized you and you kissed him deeply, passionately. after all you did have the day to yourselves while the kids were at school.

After some time it became heated, and the straps of your linen dress had fallen and you found your hands inching up underneath your husbands shirt. you shared a slight glance before realizing you were on the same page. "do you want to-?" Theodore asked, looking at you as if it was the first day he fell in love with you all over again. as if you were his whole world. and you were. "yes." you chuckled.

Hand in hand, you wandered upstairs for some private time without having to worry about your children. moments like this were rare but still very special.

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 12: ‘Wrapped In Cellophane’

Warnings In This Chapter: Nothing besides Esme making y/n cry again lol. 

Masterlist: 

---

Weeks had passed and you continued to stay with Thomas. 

The frequent commute back and forth between Arrow House and your home in Sutton Coldfield was getting tedious, especially with the baby growing more, and your fatigue never ceasing. You had realized that your own home was falling vacant due to the fact that you rarely left the mansion. He gave you the decision to move in with him fully. It was obviously spacious enough for the three of you, and you, as well as the children, were cared for by the maids when Thomas was busy. It was everything and more than what you had wished for. And yet something was still holding you back. 

You knew Thomas honored you and your growing family. He really wanted to protect that. He would do whatever he could to protect you, even following your wishes by keeping his business ordeals away from the home. He went a step further and insisted that he kept all work and family business meetings away from the home, even running background checks on all of his workers. Just to ensure that you were safe with him. You greatly appreciated his efforts, but part of you hoped the blame wouldn’t be put on you if things took a turn. 

Elizabeth and Henry began to warm up to the new father-figure in their lives. Their skepticism slowly faded the more Thomas was around. He was kind with them, gifted them toys and nice things, spending as much time with them as he could whenever they were around. You acknowledged that he treated them like they were his own, it made you admire him even more.  

It took a while for you to get used to the maids doing your usual routine. From getting your kids up out of bed, getting them dress and fed before school, it gave you some extra time in bed with Thomas before you had to get yourself up and ready to go to work. The company car drove you to the bakery and back home after the long days. Even in between the busy week days, when your children were in London, you cherished your private intimate moments with Thomas. Everything seemed to get easier for you, even when your bump started to show. Your regulars at the bakery would congratulate you, after admitting that they had never noticed before. 

With Elizabeth's birthday coming up soon, you wanted to make it special. You always made her a cake each year, and each year you made sure to surprise her with one thing she needed and one or two things she absolutely begged for, depending how good the bake sales were that year. This year was no different and you wanted to spoil her for once, making sure your children had memorable birthdays. Taking matters into your own hands you decided to make her another cake this year but make it something she favored but you rarely ever made. Strawberry ice-box cake. It was an easy recipe but the lack of time and well, a decent ice-box, made it difficult for you to fulfill her wishes. But, now that you were with Thomas you decided to use up your resources to your advantage for your own personal gain. Making your daughter happy on her special day. You had asked Thomas to at least participate.

“Why don’t you help out, darling? She would absolutely love it if she found out you helped,” You had begged him. Holding his hands in yours as you gave him a hopeful smile.

“I don’t bake…” He told you, rolling his neck a bit as he held the unlit cigarette between his lips. 

“Oh please? I’ll be there to guide you, you can be my sous chef,” You joked a bit. He chuckled, only to glance at the counter with the equipment and ingredients laid out for you. He had agreed reluctantly. ‘If it makes her happy’ he told you.

Needless to say, the kitchen wasn’t an entire mess by the time you put the biscuits in the oven to bake. Once they were set to cool you began to make the cream frosting as Thomas helped by cutting the strawberries. You couldn’t help but glance at him, the way he rolled his sleeves up and the way he worked the knife quickly to slice the strawberries, you licked your lips and looked away before he could catch you. 

Once he was done, he stood behind you, a hand on your waist as he observed you put the layers together. He wondered how you could make a simple cake recipe look so elegant and pristine. After you are finished piping on the décor with the icing you set it in the icebox to sit overnight. Thomas held you against the cold counter, kissing you passionately. You briefly pulled yourself away from him, giggling as you scoop a small amount of the frosting from the bowl on your finger and silently motion for him, instructing him to try some. The loving look in his eyes as he tried some. You placed your finger between your lips to lick up the remaining sweet and fluffy frosting.

“Thank you for helping,” You told him quietly as you placed your arms on his shoulders.  Even though he helped as much as he could, since you practically took over the project as he watched in amazement at your talent. Needless to say, Elizabeth's birthday was a success and she was more than happy to hear that Thomas helped.

After spending the week with your family and working, you decided to sit down and enjoy some tea with Esme. After she had gotten married to John, she was so busy taking care of the betting shop and watching over the heaps of kids he had from his late wife.

The two of you sat in the dining room of her new home that she shared with John. With John and Tommy being away for work, and the children were running and playing in the yard. You were glad you finally got around to some quality time with your closest friend. She poured you some tea and set the sugar, honey, and milk in front of you. Thanking her as you dipped some honey into the cup, stirring it with a spoon.

“So, how have you been since you’ve been married?” You asked, cheekily. Excited to hear all of the news. She takes a generous sip of her tea before answering.

“Oh it’s been great, ya know?...Working with John and the family it’s just great...but,” She paused.

“What is it?” You asked.

“It’s nothing, it's just Tommy…he’s,” She stopped herself again. “I- nevermind, I’m sorry,” She abruptly stopped herself. You snicker.

“You’re apologizing now? Has becoming a Shelby really tamed you?” You joked. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Nonetheless, I understand…how are you with the kids?” You then asked, changing the subject. She groaned a bit.

“Little shits hardly listen to me, let alone their own father…but, they’re sweet kids,” She said, looking out the window with a soft smile on her lips. You hummed, just happy to see your friend happy and content with her new life.

“I don’t want to pry, but have you made a decision yet?” She asked after a moment of comfortable silence. 

Her burning question made you shift uncomfortably, but your smile never faltered.

“Yeah…I think I have,” She moved a piece of her wavy brown hair out of her face.

“Really?” Her eyes widened, just the slightest. But, it was noticeable enough for you to take note of her expression. But you just hummed as a response and nodded your head.

“I think I want to keep it,” You shrug as you hold your hands over your stomach.

“(Y/n), Love are you sure?” She asked, ultimately unsure of you and your decision.

“I could wait but-”

“No, (y/n) I mean are you sure…one hundred percent sure you want this?” She asked you. You place your hands on the table as you take another sip of your tea. She urgently reaches to place her hand over yours.

“Is there a problem, Esme?” You asked, trying to read her.

“I’m simply reminding you that there is still time,” She had an unreadable expression on her face, but overall worried for you.

“Esme,” You retracted your hand from her, quite perplexed and a little offended. “I am going to have this baby,” You told her sternly. She exhaled, leaning back in her chair and drinking her tea. Her worried expression dropped to one of displeasure. You noticed the smudged mascara around her eyes, the sweat upon her forehead, and the look as if she was aching for something. Craving something.

But, you could also tell there was something she wasn’t telling you.

Why wasn’t she telling you?

“I don’t understand Esme…Is it something to do with Thomas?” You asked, pushing your tea to the side as it had gotten too cold for your liking.

She shook her head bitterly.

“This whole situation is fuckin’ crazy…how can you stake your life on someone, a man, you hardly know?”

“Esme, come off it,” You take your head at her. “You’re not a judgmental person, I know you…why are you saying all this?” Your words show the hurt you felt from her reaction.

“I swear I am not judging you, I…I’m warning you,”

It was like the whole world around you changed. The clouds hid the sun as the tone of conversation became serious. You felt the baby kicking at your sudden increase in heart rate.

“You don’t know Tommy or know anything about him…he is an emotional fuckin’ time bomb and it’s too soon for you to tell,”

“I don’t understand the sudden negativity…you can’t sit here and judge me for my relationship when you married his brother, another man you hardly know might I add…You hadn’t even seen him until your wedding day so do not sit here and act like a sanctimonious and jealous woman,”  You sternly stated.

“I am not jealous,” She spat.

“I finally find someone who makes me happy and you decided to just…shit all over it-”

“Don’t you dare,” She stopped you, pointing a finger at you. “I am not trying to take that away from you, and yeah so what if I didn’t know John before we got married...We got married for a pact, I just want you to open your fucking eyes,”

You take deep breaths to calm your beating heart. After your silence she continues.

“Have you ever considered what this would do to your kids if it doesn't work out?”

“I am doing this for my kids!” You shouted. “I want my children to see me in a healthy relationship for once because we both know my marriage with Alfie went to shit, I am allowed to do this for me too,” Your chest began to grow hot with anger.

“Be honest with yourself, you fuckin’ love him, you’re in love with Tommy fucking Shelby! You’re not doing this for them, you’re making a decision that will change the rest of their lives based on someone you don’t know! You’re selfish, reckless and naïve!”

Her words struck a nerve.

“Firstly, you don’t get to tell me how to parent my children, and secondly don’t you call me selfish, reckless, and naïve when all you do is sit around and sniff up every supply of snow the Shelby’s own and boss John around about how much you hate his family…”

You bit your cheek, you didn’t mean to make it known that Thomas and John tell you close to everything when it comes to Esme. She looked at you with disgust.

“How dare you,”

You didn’t say much more before you stood up and grab your coat and purse.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when you see how he really is!” She shouted as you slammed the door shut behind you. The breeze outside blew your hair out of your face as the cool air nipped at your cheeks and nose. The crisp air was calming you in a way. You had taken a deep breath to calm your nerves before approaching the company car that drove you around wherever you needed to go. Once back in the mansion, you noticed how empty it felt. You were thankful that your children nor Thomas would have to see you like this.

“Please do not tell Thomas that I am like this, Francis,” You begged as you wiped the tears from your red cheeks.

“Of course Ms. (L/n),” The elderly woman nodded kindly as she guided you to the stairs.

“What would you like me to tell him?” She asked quietly.

You had paused as you used your hand to grip the railing.

“Tell him not to worry, just unwell…due to the baby,” You said before climbing up the rest of the way to your bedroom. Closing the door behind you as you took a moment to sit down on your side of the bed. Your head turned down as you stared into your lap.

The conversation you had just dawned on you. The things you had said to your closest friend were out of character and hurtful. But you weren’t the only one at fault and you knew that. It deeply upset you how defensive you had gotten at the words she spoke to you. You wipe your tears away and sniffle as your stomach churns. With one last deep breath you held your head high and calmed the muscles in your face. It looked like you hadn’t even cried.

‘ Don’t come cryin’ to me when you see how he really is! ’ Her words shouted at you. Staring in the vanity mirror as you fixed the runny mascara under your eyes.

“I won’t”

---

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[tallmantall]

James Donaldson on Mental Health - Back-to-School Dos and Don'ts

Tips on navigating summer's end, especially for kids who are anxious Writer: Jerry Bubrick, PhD Clinical Expert: Jerry Bubrick, PhD What You'll Learn - What can I do to help my anxious child feel better about starting school? - Why is routine so important? - What is a “dry run” and how can it help ease the transition to school? - Quick Read - Full Article - DO get back into the routine - DON’T forget to refuel - DO talk about changing friendships - DON’T share your anxieties - DO have a trial run - DON’T be afraid of setbacks - DO help kids manage their commitments - DON’T ignore problems The transition from summer into the new school year is tough for both parents and kids. Especially for kids who have anxiety. One of the best ways to reduce anxiety is to prepare early. Get back into the school routine at least a week before the first day. This means kids need to sleep, eat and reduce screen time on a school schedule. Buying school supplies and going on a “dry run” helps a lot too. That’s where you go to school, walk the halls and find classrooms before school actually starts. Telling kids that their anxious feelings are normal also helps them feel more confident. It also helps to make sure your kid isn’t diving into every activity on day one. If a kid has too much on their plate, they’re likely to fall behind. This can make them anxious or even depressed. It’s good to help kids choose which things they really want to do and not sign up for everything at once. Paying attention to when and what your kid is eating is important too. Kids need to eat healthy foods regularly to perform well in school. They also need to fuel up in order to do homework. Try to make breakfast, even if it’s quick, a part of the morning routine. It’s also good to keep tabs on what your child eats for lunch. A well-fed, good sleeper is going to have a better school day and be more ready for homework than a kid who’s over-tired and hungry. The end of summer is in sight, and parents everywhere are feeling that inevitable anxiety over how to make the most of the upcoming school year. In my experience, anticipating the hurdles of reentry and carefully structuring the first few weeks of school goes a long way to setting the stage for a successful year, particularly if your child has an anxiety disorder or another emotional or learning challenge. With that in mind, here are some dos and don’ts for families who want to start the school year right. DO get back into the routine There are many positive things about summer, like more time to spend with your family and novel opportunities for your children. But summer is also a disrupting time for kids, who can easily forget that they were ever in school at all. So I strongly suggest that you start making the necessary readjustment to school life before the first day. There is no use denying that school is coming, and getting prepared earlier can get them off to a better start. First, we want kids to start (and they’re going to resist) having more school-like hours. Even just a few days before school begins, bedtime should go back from 11:00 to 9:00, for example, or whatever is appropriate. Additionally, kids should be waking up around the time they’d have to wake up for school and performing the normal routine: shower, breakfast, getting dressed, and so forth. We also suggest that you limit screen time — whether it’s gaming, streaming TV shows, or social media, make sure they are off at least an hour before bed. Kids sometimes have a hard time separating from their virtual world, and if they don’t have some “downtime” they’ll still be engaged and it will affect their ability to fall asleep on their own. You can also shop for school supplies earlier rather than later. The selection at stores is better, which is no small matter when you’re trying to make the transition as easy as possible, and the activity primes kids for their eventual return to the classroom. DON’T forget to refuel When kids are with you, when you’re both on vacation, you know what and when they’re eating, and if they’re staying up late, it’s likely to be watching a movie with you. When school starts again, you lose some control, even if you don’t realize it. You may assume that certain things are happening at school-or in your child’s bedroom-and then wonder what in the world has gotten into your suddenly surly, under-performing kid. Well, if they’re not eating until they’re starved, and they’re on TikTok until midnight… I encourage all my families to be particularly aware of meals. Most kids wake up at 6:30 or 7:00am and may or may not have breakfast. For younger grades, lunch could be anywhere from 10:30 to 1:00. Do we know what they’re eating for lunch? Do they bring lunch or buy hot lunch? How much are they eating? Are they trading their sandwiches for cookies? Are they having a snack during afterschool activities? If they’re not having a snack, they could be coming home ravenous at 5:00pm, not be able to focus on homework for an hour, then get all of the days calories and nourishment at dinner and feel exhausted and have little mental energy for work. Then they get a second wind and are online into the wee hours. The fact is that a well-fed, good sleeper is going to have a better school day and be more efficient with homework than a kid who’s over-tired and starving. DO talk about changing friendships Summer can be a volatile time for young friendships, and talking about what to expect when school starts is a good way to ease kids into the idea that social relationships change. Sometimes your BFF one year may seem a little distant the next year, and letting kids know this sort of thing happens can help them weather these often-painful changes. Being able to share friends with other children, and to have friends overlap, is a skill that’s important to learn, which is why it’s something that warrants discussion. Not all problems need fixing; sometimes kids just want to be able to talk about these upsets without expecting you to fix them; sometimes kids just want parents to validate their feelings and say, “I know that’s hard.” DON’T share your anxieties Parents are often very caught up in their children’s social lives because they want them to make good friends, be happy, and learn social skills that will help them be successful adults. These are all great reasons to be engaged, but kids don’t always understand the interest that way. This is particularly true of anxious kids. For instance, it’s very easy for parents to get into the habit of asking, “Did you make any friends?” when kids come home from school. But that can be shaming for kids who are struggling or still figuring out where they fit in. Better questions would be, “How was your day?” or “Tell me three things you liked about your day,” or “Tell me three things you didn’t like about your day.” Neutral questions are better than ones that a child might interpret as, “If you didn’t make friends, then I’m going to be disappointed in you.” DO have a trial run One way to help kids get off on the right foot—or at least a better foot—is to give kids with anxiety problems, and certainly kids who have refused to go to school in the past, a “dry run” or two before school starts. Driving by the building, walking in the building, getting reacquainted with the smells, sights, and sounds; this can be necessary to make Day One happen at all. Trial runs are also really good for kids transitioning to a new school. Kids who are going from elementary to middle, or middle to upper, have an orientation, but it usually takes place at the end of the previous year. So it’s good to go and take a dry run and map out their classes, where their locker is and that kind of thing. And if a kid puts up a fight and refuses to do that, it could be a red flag that this year will be problematic. But at least you’ve figured this out before school starts. DON’T be afraid of setbacks If you have a child who had some real trouble the year before—like a mood or anxiety problem—and may have made real gains over the summer, you might be tempted to anticipate an easy return to school. But it’s good for parents to temper expectations. Too often we think our children have learned all these new skills and so Day One, Two, and Three should be stellar days. If not, then something’s wrong. But that’s not how it works. We have to let kids ease into it, and allow for ups and downs. If you can accept that, then your child will have more confidence and be able to accept setbacks. DO help kids manage their commitments The tricky part of coming back to school is that the first week or two are usually pretty exciting but slow weeks in terms of work, so it’s easy to get caught up in a false sense of, “Oh, this is easy, and I can take on this, this, and that extracurricular.” Then, October comes along and a kid can think, “Holy crap, I have a lot of work in front of me and where am I going to find the time?” So it might be a good idea to wait on new activities until mid-October and leave enough time for adjustment. The fact is that these days kids tend to get over-involved in clubs, sports, student government, and by the time they get home, they’re exhausted. Maybe by the time they start homework, it’s 9pm, only two hours before bedtime at 11:00. I’ve worked with many kids who get overwhelmed by their activities, and then they get further and further behind in their work, which makes them depressed and prone to procrastinate. It just becomes too much for them to handle. We want parents to temper their expectations for kids, so that kids can practice balance in their own lives; modeling this in your own life can be helpful. For example, you could explain to your child that you were asked to join a fundraising committee but you said no because you realized that you would be overcommitted. Practicing what you preach, and letting your kids see, can be worth a thousand stern reminders. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space.  #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife: From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com Link for 40 Habits Signupbit.ly/40HabitsofMentalHealth If you'd like to follow and receive my daily blog in to your inbox, just click on it with Follow It. Here's the link https://follow.it/james-donaldson-s-standing-above-the-crowd-s-blog-a-view-from-above-on-things-that-make-the-world-go-round?action=followPub DON’T ignore problems To flog this point one more time: Many schools are fantastic, with talented and caring teachers and administrators. But you can’t expect the school to have your insight into your child, or to automatically have the same concerns and knowledge about them. Sometimes the school’s point of view is, “We’re not going to do anything until we see a reason to do something.” That’s why we’d like parents to be more proactive. You need to be your child’s advocate, and if you see them struggling, or you’re worried about them struggling, it’s better to say something sooner rather than later. Read the full article

[frogtanii]

[buckle up; this one is a long one (1.6k words)]

things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

she was supposed to show up, apologize “sincerely,” and the boys, her boys, were supposed to welcome her with open arms and swiftly discard of you.

instead, she was sitting in the back of a cramped police car with two pigs, one of which had a horrible b.o. problem and an affinity for sauerkraut.

it was so frustrating.

and, of course, it was all your fault.

you’d been blocking her from true happiness ever since the beginning when you’d first met in middle school. it was crazy because you’d actually seemed nice; kind, understanding, and you didn’t judge her for what her father did to her mother or for how she acted out because of that.

sure, you were a little weird and sometimes you could be downright rude to other kids in your class but you cared for her in a way that no one else had before.

(un)fortunately, you didn’t come alone — you were a packaged deal. your childhood friend, daishou, came into her life right along with you. she didn’t mind at first; daishou was fun when he wanted to be but he was mostly full of snarky comments and sarcastic quips.

the three of you spent all your time with each other; from playing at the playground to helping her begin her makeup youtube channel in 8th grade.

you all got along pretty well up until you got to highschool. once there, you threw yourself into your studies, sort of retracting yourself from her and daishou.

how selfish.

she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by you—you knew how bad she was at making friends and you didn’t even care, leaving her all alone to fend for herself.

well, not all by herself.

daishou was a constant. no matter where she was, or how alone she was feeling, he was there to provide entertainment at the most, and his presence at the least.

it wasn’t always the healthiest, most functional friendship, she could admit that. there were weeks that daishou would choose to ignore her for no apparent rhyme or reason, citing his explanation as he just didn’t feel like it.

obviously it sucked but he was her only friend, ever since you so cruelly abandoned them. i mean, you still ate lunch with them every day and invited them over to study and hang out, but it was not the same.

with you so absent, she grew closer and closer to daishou to the point she was spending almost every waking moment with him. and, as the story so goes, she fell for him, head over heels.

she knew it was a bad idea, if their friendship was anything to go off of but she didn’t care. she was desperate for love and physical affection and he seemed willing to at least give her the latter.

after she decided to confess, nerves all the way in her throat and a box of chocolates behind her back, daishou took her virginity in the back of his ford fusion, hard, fast and nothing like she’d imagined.

the next day, she’d cornered you in the library (where you always seemed to be) to tell you the good news. your face was unusually blank as she detailed the best night of her life to you, your response being less than stellar when she was done. “please be careful,” you had said.

what did that even mean? you clearly wanted to keep daishou safe from her which was ridiculous because weren’t you supposed to be her friend too? she’d stormed out of the library after that, determined to demand a kiss from daishou to make her feel better.

that day was one of the last that she’d see you for a while. you got caught up with clubs and schoolwork (and apparently therapy for god knows what) while she got caught up with daishou.

things with him weren’t... great. they never really were but things were getting even worse. his random bouts of silence got longer and though it was only freshman year and they’d been dating for less than 5 months, he’d meet with her after school with a hickey plastered on his collarbone that she knew she didn’t put there (she sucked even harder over the spot to claim it as her own).

as she said, things weren’t great but they weren’t horrible either. they remained that way all the way up until sophomore year.

you and her had drifted even further, hardly speaking to one another unless it was for a project or to vaguely greet one another in the halls. it was okay though. you had all your other friends and she... well she had daishou.

speaking of, her “boyfriend” had been more distant than usual. she wasn’t an idiot and she knew he’d been seeing other girls on the side, but she believed she would be the one he’d end up with, the one he’d marry.

how foolish she had been.

it was prom night and she felt beautiful. her beauty channel had finally begun picking up traction (she’d just hit 13k subscribers the night before!!) so she filmed a prom night makeup tutorial, making sure that every square inch of her face was perfect. donning a silky blue floor length dress, she felt like a princess and she certainly looked the part.

she showed up to daishou’s house about 30 minutes before the event, ringing his doorbell with an elated grin painted all over her face. he had mentioned in passing that his parents and older sister would be out for the weekend, leaving the house for themselves. that meant sex and sex meant being wanted.

after the third ring of the bell, she started to get nervous. maybe he wasn’t ready yet? maybe he needed help with his tie? just when she was about to wring the bell again, the door swung open to reveal daishou... not in his suit.

“oh, it’s you,” he’d grumbled. “‘m not goin’ to prom.” she felt her breath catch in her throat. she’d protested and begged for an explanation but he wouldn’t give one to her. eventually, she’d followed him into his house, furious because how could he do this to her? on her night?

it didn’t take very long for him to get fed up, his snake-like eyes honing in on her, filled with venom. “‘m not goin’ because i don’t like you anymore. you still look pretty though.”

just like that, with just a few words, he’d shattered her heart. she was frozen in place, completely disconnected from daishou, her love, as he not-so-gently pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.

she felt tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, her legs were carrying her to a place she hadn’t been in months.

banging frantically on the door, she cried out, begging for someone, anyone to hear her. the door opened quickly and there you stood. you’d clearly been studying but as you took in her frazzled appearance, it seemed as though your heart broke.

you ushered her inside, sat her own the couch, and began to make her a cup of tea, your parents having been out for the night as well. once the kettle went off, you quickly prepped her drink and gave it to her, the words flowing out of her like liquid once she had taken a sip.

she didn’t know why she was even there but despite the animosity between the two of you, you seemed like you truly... cared. (neither of you mentioned the tears that stained your favorite t shirt or the quiet apologies you muttered into her hair).

that night quickly went and passed and by the next day, she was feeling rejuvenated and more like herself. however, that feeling quickly dissipated when she caught you in the hallway between classes speaking with daishou behind the stairwell in hushed tones.

within the span of a few hours, her heart had been broken twice and she was sure she’d never felt such heartache before.

she turned on her heel and darted away, avoiding your every attempt to talk to her for weeks and weeks until you just... stopped trying. after you’d cut off conversation, yet again, the sadness quickly festered and morphed into anger.

that anger only grew when she watched you graduate at the top of your class in your senior year, your smile blinding as you accepted your diploma. it only grew when she saw that you had made it into the university of your choice on your instagram story, her own rejection letter torn up in the bottom of her wastebin. it only grew when she saw you’d made your own youtube channel, her own going untouched and neglected (her last video had been a half-assed “get ready with me” that had more dislikes than likes due to her horrible makeup and even worse attitude).

soon enough, the rage had intensified until it had taken over her whole being. she was just so angry at all that you’d done to her, all the ways you’d ruined her life that she couldn’t keep herself from plotting your demise.

when she got the email from the hyper house management team that invited her into the house and offered the option that she could pick someone she wanted to move in as well, her anger turned into excitement.

this was her chance. this was her moment to turn your life into a living hell, to make it at least a fraction of what she went through by your hands.

she was going to make you pay and god, was it going to feel great.

the metal of the handcuffs chafed her wrists as she adjusted herself against the cool leather of the cruiser, the discomfort removing her from her reverie.

yeah, right. it seemed as though she was the only one “paying” right about now.

she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

things definitely weren’t meant to turn out like this. not at all.

℗ poker face

not like this

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OMFG THE BACKSTORY REVEALED I AM SO OVER IT >:(( this took me forever to write and i still wasn’t able to include everything i wanted to so hop over to my asks if you need any clarification!! oh oh && just a reminder, this playlist is from meiko’s perspective so chances are, things didn’t exactly go just like this wink wonk KAJS ANYWAYS DONT FORGET TO FEED ME ILY <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[storiesofsvu]

Disgrace to the Name of Coffee

Rita Calhoun x reader Warnings: language, that's it I think? Some teasing/banter but that's to be expected lbh. Covers the "pumpkin flavoured" square for @adarafaelbarba 's bingo!

Fall was, without a doubt, your favourite time of year. It was due to a number of things; cooler weather, crunchy leaves, kids were back in school not running wild through the city. You caught the tail end of barbeque season, thunderstorms, autumn festivals, Halloween, the lead up to Thanksgiving. It was the beginning of major holiday season which meant lots of seeing old friends, family, and delicious food. But you couldn’t lie, the main part was the food. And one kind in particular.

September first brought with it: pumpkin spice season.

And truthfully, that was your favourite thing about fall.

There wasn’t time before work to pick up your beloved pumpkin spice latte so that meant you stopped by Starbucks on your way home, sipping at the glorious beverage while you perused the aisles of Whole Foods. All of the fall features were out, promotions everywhere for spiced apple cider, fresh pumpkin pies, mulled wine, and more flavoured baked goods than you could have ever imagined. Naturally, you picked up a little bit of everything, along with a couple of pre-made easy to reheat dinners for the next couple of days. You’d need food for both you and Rita considering the plan was to stay at your place for the weekend, she wasn’t about to cook, and you really didn’t want to bother after the long week, so this was just the better idea.

Originally the plan was go to dinner tonight, Thursday, and spend the night together going into the weekend, but Rita got the memo too late about a work function she’d practically forgotten about. So she promised you she would order you some takeout for dinner and would get to your place in time for a glass of wine and a night of cuddles.

As promised, right at six thirty there was a knock on your door from a delivery driver, a bag of bruschetta, shrimp scampi and tiramisu in hand for you. You weren’t sure exactly where it was from, but it was absolutely delicious and right up Rita’s alley for quality food. You putzed around the apartment for a bit, cleaning up before having a quick shower and changing into pyjamas to curl up on the couch. Rita finally got there around nine, apologizing for the late hour as she greeted you with a tender kiss and you waved her off, thanking her for dinner. She instantly curled up on the couch with you and a glass of wine while you fed each other bites of tiramisu before heading to the bedroom for a good night’s rest.

The morning was when everything got a little hectic, though regular alarms had been set, Rita was in the shower when her phone started ringing. You let it go to voicemail, finishing up your hair and make up before getting dressed, and then it rang again. The sound of the water from the bathroom had just stopped and you heard Rita’s voice calling out for you to answer it so you did. A moment later you popped your head into the bathroom, letting her know a client was at the twenty first precinct waiting for her and according to the cop you’d talked to, they weren’t exactly being patient. She let out a grumble as she rolled her eyes, now more thankful than ever that she hadn’t bothered to wash her hair. You stepped into the bathroom, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, squeezing at her hand to calm her down,

“I’ll get some breakfast ready that you can take with you.”

“And coffee!” She called after you and you let out a little laugh at the desperation in her voice, her caffeine addiction was her whole personality some days.

You grabbed a couple of the prepped breakfast sandwiches from the freezer and tossed them into the air fryer before filling the coffee pot and turning it on to brew. You didn’t have anything put together for lunch, but you figured Rita would end up ordering take out anyways. You scrolled through your phone waiting for both things to be done, checking a couple of emails, thankful you still had a couple of hours until you had to head into work. Less than five minutes later, Rita came down the hallway, heels in hand that she placed by the door before moving through the kitchen. You hadn’t even heard the coffee machine beep, too distracted in your own little world and truly just not awake enough yet. She paused to wrap an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before crossing the room to the counter. Pulling down one of your to go coffee mugs she swiftly poured coffee into it and looked up to you as she pulled open the fridge.

“I don’t have much to do today after this client, I’ll probably be able to get out early if you’re interested?”

“I’m always interested in more time with you.” You replied with a smile, not noticing the creamer she’d grabbed from the fridge door, dumping a hefty amount into her coffee before twirling the lid on. “We could hit a couple of happy hours before the show?”

“That sounds perfect.” She smiled, “I’ll give you a text once I’m done.” She lifted the mug to her lips, ready for the best part of her morning and instead nearly gagged, spitting the drink out into the sink as she coughed, “is you creamer rotten? What the fuck?”

“No.” Your brow furrowed, “I just bought it last night.” Then your eyes widened, “which bottle did you use?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t looking. The one from the usual spot.”

“I ran out of the hazelnut yesterday. I replaced it with a pumpkin one.”

“Oh god you’re one of them.” She groaned and you laughed.

“What?”

“Pumpkin spice lovers. It’s a disgrace to coffee! Mine of which, is now ruined, thank you.”

“Calm down drama queen.” You teased, standing from your stool as the air fryer beeped. You swiped the coffee mug from her, opening it and pouring it into another mug before giving it a thorough rinse and refilling it. “I haven’t had my coffee yet. There’s a carton of plain almond milk on the shelf.” You handed it back to her and pointed toward the fridge before you turned to the air fryer.

“Thank you.”

You pulled out the sandwiches, tossing one onto a plate and the other into a Ziploc bag, tucking it into Rita’s purse. She screwed the lid back onto her fresh, properly made, coffee and took a sip, this time letting out a sigh of relief. Her eyes swept over the counter, searching through the bowl of fruit and packages of pastries beside it.

“Those look good.” She muttered, her hand reaching out to the scones.

“Ah!” You cut in, swatting at her hand and she turned to you with a slightly offended look on her face.

“What? You saving them for something?”

“They’re pumpkin.”

“What about those muffins?”

“Also pumpkin.” You let out an awkward laugh, “they were on sale!”

“You’re a degenerate, you know that?”

“Everything must be pumpkin flavoured! It’s a rule of the season!” You practically scolded and she laughed, rolling her eyes, “and I’ll be sure to pick up hazelnut creamer for you on my way home today.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Breakfast is in your purse, and it is one hundred percent pumpkin free.”

“If it wasn’t I’d have to break up with you at this point.” She teased and you let out a mock offended scoff.

“And to think, I was going to spend all weekend doting on you!”

“Yeah, with pumpkin flavoured everything!”

“Don’t you have a client waiting?” You raised a brow, a fake pout taking over your lips and she chuckled, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“I guess I should get going. Thank you.” She gestured towards the sandwich as she picked up her purse, an arm wrapping around you to pull you in for a kiss, this one a moment longer than the last, though she pulled away with a grimace on her face, “now you taste like pumpkin.”

“Yeah, well, you’re just gonna have to deal with it until December.” You teased back and she laughed.

“And then what? Is it peppermint season?”

“Caramel brulee thank you, very much.”

“While that one is still sickeningly sweet and a disgrace to the name of coffee, I can at least get behind it.”

“Oh! She can actually make a compromise, I’m shocked.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” She deadpanned, pecking your cheek this time to avoid anymore unwanted pumpkin flavouring, “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too.” You replied with a grin, watching as she stepped into her heels and disappeared through the front door.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the entire thing, having been completely unaware of your girlfriends complete distaste of pumpkin flavoured things. Though, with her affection of coffee you probably should have seen it coming. You simply shrugged, laughing to yourself as you opened the pack of pumpkin scones and added one to the plate with your breakfast sandwich and made your way to the couch.

If Rita didn’t want anything pumpkin, that just meant more for you, and you were more than okay with that.

________________ @giftedchildturns40 @hbkpop @clarawatson @naturalxselection @ms-calhoun @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl @svushots @whispered-tear-drops @wannabe-fic-readerer @borg-queer @whimsicallymad @oliviaswifeyy @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @jamiethetrans @molllss @wosoimagines @alexbllake @infernumlilith @australiancarisii @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @lawandorderuswnt @ex-uallyactivee @dead-of-niight @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @muscatmusic18 @ladysc @alexusonfire @drduckthief @dxtery @momlifebehard @swimmingstudentchaos891 @mmemalwaa @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @when-wolves-howl @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @anya-casablanca @yesterdaysgone @godard-muse @itisdoctortoyousir @nobody-important1212 @softgamerking @httpjupiterbbyy

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys as Bad Dad moments

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou and Numai

**These are ways they “failed” as fathers. I am not talking about ACTUALLY failing as fathers, just things dads have done that most of us either remember/get told about NOT TO BE TAKEN  S E R I O U S L Y  it is just for      f u n  I also gave them all at least 2 kids cause SibLiNgS**

A ‘*’ means it happened to me lol

TW- Mentions of giving too much medicine, accidental pain caused to child, these are things I either experienced/knew people who experienced them, allusion to cursing/a FEW bad words (but I substitute a letter for something else :)

*Akaashi Keiji: 

He had been working in his office when his son had come in.

You had been putting your newborn to sleep for a nap when your son decided he wanted to be with his dad.

His son was only 3, so when Akaashi was held up in his office editing his son, Kenji, would sometimes come in and plop himself in Akaashi’s lap.

His sons small feel padded on the floor while he made his way to his father, softly tugging on his pants as he stuck his arms up.

Akaashi smiled and softly chuckled before gently picking up his son from under his arms and placing him on his lap.

He got to work soon after, reading and revising the pages.

Other than having his son on his lap it wasn’t unusual for him to be drinking coffee while working.

Keep in mind, your son had inherited a lot from Akaashi, and not just his looks or personality.

But also his habits.

Because of this, your son was very fidgety, usually toying with a string or your fingers.

That meant he tended to move around a lot.

Akaashi had just lifted his not-so-cold coffee to his lips when his son had made a sudden movement, causing him to knock his arm and, “AHH” Akaashi’s eyes snapped open as his son started crying, cursing under his breath he stood up gently holding his son in his arms as he carried him to the bathroom.

Sitting him down on the counter he dried the coffee off of his son, luckily it hadn’t been hot enough to burn him, but it was still hot enough to hurt.

“What happened? I heard crying, is he okay?” Akaashi sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, he’s okay, he bumped my arm and I spilled my coffee on him. He’s okay! It didn’t burn him, but it did hurt...” Your frowned as you stood in front of your son, giving him a soft smile before kissing his arm, cause kisses always make it feel better~

You carefully picked him up from the counter, rocking him slowly side to side as he burrowed into your shoulder.

“Are you okay little man~” He nodded as he sniffled into your shoulder, little hands clutching onto the fabric of your t-shirt.

“You know daddy didn’t mean it, it was an accident.” He nodded again, lifting his head to rub his eyes and reach out for his dad.

Akaashi gave a wobbly smile before reaching over to grab him, kissing the top of his head as he carried him back to his office, making sure to have some iced coffee instead.

Washio Tatsuki: 

This would be the first time Washio was left alone with the twins.

5 months ago, you and your husband had had your first children, your adorable fraternal twins Natsuki and Tatsuo.

Today would be the first day you would be away from them, but with your mother being sick and you being the only one available to take care of her you had to go.

You weren’t too worried about your husband, he was already a good dad so you had no doubt they were in good hands.

But it was never an enjoyable experience to have to leave your kids, especially your babies, and for the first time. 

So, you decided to leave early in the morning, give them their good morning kisses and head over to your parents house.

Before you left you changed their diapers, letting them play in their little play pen while your husband tried to get up.

Rubbing his eyes Washio walked into the play room.

He had to go to the gym today for a meeting, fortunately EJP had a really good daycare system in the stadium, so he could leave his kids there while he attended the short meeting.

He stopped in his tracks as his face blanched and he felt his breath stop.

You had changed the twins’ diapers...but you hadn’t dressed them.

The twins were still young, so without looking at their, uh, biological differences you couldn’t tell them apart....

Now, usually when this happened you guys would just check the diapers, but you had just done them..

And he was already running a bit late.

So, he made his best guess, got them dressed (one in pink, the other in blue), fed and in the car driving them to the stadium.

Once he got there he quickly dropped them off, rushing to his meeting.

The meeting had been fairly simple, just some pre-season info he’d need.

After chatting with his coach/teammates, and stopping Suna and Komori from pulling a prank, he made his way back to the daycare.

He walked into the building when one of the younger care takers, Yui, walked up to him, One twin in each arm.

He smiled as he carefully put them into their carriers.

“Uhm, just a question...” He looked up to her and motioned for her to continue.

“...Were you aware that Tatsuo was wearing the dress?” Washio sighed as he ran a hand down his face shaking his head. Yui light heartedly smiled, “Don’t worry, we switched them.” Thanking them, he picked up his babies and went home.

He was not prepared for the way you cackled when he told you what happened.

*Konoha Akinori: 

You had gone away for a business trip, leaving your husband Konoha home with your 3 kids. (You guys have 2 girls and a boy)

Your middlest child, your son Akira, had recently come down with a cold making the poor thing miserable when he tried to sleep.

Being the good dad that he is, he gave his son some benadryl!

The next morning he woke up, and after letting his kids sleep in for a little bit he woke them up too.

...two of them.

He tried several times to get his son to leave his bed, but the little kid couldn’t so much as swing one foot over the side of his bed with out falling asleep again.

He didn’t think too much of it, the kid had a cold after all.

So he let him sleep for another hour or so before making him get up for real.

A day later you got home, and everything was pretty much normal.

Until you went to put your son to bed, and realized he had crashed on the couch.

“...Uhm, Akinori?” Your husband lifted his head at your voice, setting the dishes in the sink and drying his hands with a towel as he made his way over to you. 

“Yeah babe?” You took a look over towards your son before looking back to your husband.

“...Has Akira been like that all weekend?” Konoha ran his hand through his hair as he sighed. “No, only since Saturday. He wasn’t feeling good so I gave him some benadryl, he’s been dead to the world since.” You slowly nodded.

“Uhm, Akinori?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “How much benadryl did you give him?”

He left to grab the box, coming back with it in his hand as he continued to look at it.

He shook his head in confusion. “I gave him the amount the box said, 1 teasp-”- He paused.

Uh oh.

He in fact, had not given his son a teaspoon of benadryl.

He had given him a tablespoon.

*Kita Shinsuke: 

You had to leave early one morning for a doctors appointment; you were pregnant with you and Kita’s second child. 

Usually for these appointments Kita’s grandmother would watch your 3 year old daughter Kyoka.

But she had something to do that morning so Kita was the one responsible for getting her ready for preschool.

Kita was a good father so you weren’t worried.

You knew she would be put together, fed, and on time.

There was just one thing you couldn’t account for.

“Daddy?” Kita looked away from the mirror he was shaving in and down to his daughter, washing away the traces of shaving cream. “Yes sweetheart?”

She held out her small hand, 2 bright pink hair ties with little butterfly charms on them held out in her palm.

“Can you do my piggy tails please?” His eyes widened.

He hadn’t done hair...like...ever.

But from the puppy eyes his little princess was giving him, how could he not do it?!

Plus, it couldn’t be that hard...right? I mean, he had watched you do it plenty of times, and it was pretty straight forward.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed he had her stand on the ground in front of him.

He grabbed her brush and put the two hair ties she had given him on his wrist.

He brushed her hair and parted it as evenly as he could, trying to be gentle in the process.

Now time for the pig tails..

He pulled her hair back, trying to make it tight to it would stay.

...But he might have made it a little too tight.

He turned her around and realized he had made them way too tight.

Not only did her hair look like he had slicked it back with x4 strength hair gel, but it was so tight that her eyebrows had been stuck way up on her forehead.

He was quick to turn her back around, loosening the hair ties so she looks like a 3 year old again.

His face turned undeniably red as he told you what happened later that night, you light heartedly laughing at his misfortune.

Suna Rintaro: 

Suna had just gotten out of practice, and now he was on the way to his kids school. 

You and Suna had 4 kids, 2 boys and 2 girls. 

The youngest 2 had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day, which you had taken them too. Meaning Suna needed to pick the older 2 up from elementary school.

He had been listening to music, his music to be specific.

He had pulled into the parking lot, changing the playlist to a kid friendly one right before his children got in the car.

After they had told him about their days, and he had told about his, he switched back on the music.

It had been fine for a song.

Until he realized that he had a few songs qued.

The fun little song had just ended when the bass dropped, the color draining from his face as soon as the song started.

The mentioned song being “Big Bank” by YG, 2 Chainz, Big Sean and Nicki Minaj of course~.

He was quick to turn the radio off, waiting until he could pull over, empty the que, and turn on kid friendly music.

He told the kids to ‘forget what they heard’ and he continued on his drive home.

Now, you’ve got to remember, his daughter is in kindergarten and his son is in 2nd grade, so they’re still kind of at that “monkey see, monkey do” age range.

Or rather, “monkey hear, monkey repeat.”

He thought it was gonna be okay, they were good kids so he figured telling them to forget they even heard it, they would let it go.

There was just one thing about his children that he didn’t account for.

As obedient and well behaved as his children were, they were also very curious.

That night at dinner they had all been sat down at the table, eating dinner and talking about their days. 

You had been feeding your infant son while Suna had been watching the 3 year old, the other 2 older children happily eating their food. Until...

“Hey mommy?” You looked at your daughter with a smile, “Yes baby?” She continued to eat her dinner, “What’s a b!tch?” Your eyes widened as your husband choked on his food, your baby laughing at the scene before him.

Hitting his chest and taking a sip of water Suna tried to catch his breath.

“Nezuko we don’t say that, where did you hear that?!” She tilted her head as she looked at you confused before turning to look at Suna, pointing a small finger at him.

“It was on the radio, daddy told us to ‘forget’ but I didn’t know what it meant...What does it mean?” You sent a glare towards your husband as you sighed.

After explaining to your daughter why it was bad to say those things and not to repeat everything she heard you cleaned up your kids and put them to bed.

...You had quite the conversation with your husband later that night.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: 

Ushijima had been on grocery duty this week since you had a meeting with a friend.

He had the Friday off, and since you weren’t home he took the kids with him.

Now, I would like you to know that you guys have 6 kids. S I X.

Growing up with no siblings and divorced parents, Ushijima wanted to make sure none of his kids were lonely.

Originally you guys had two, each kid had a buddy.

...but then you had a third, and you couldn’t just leave him alone...

so you had another...then another...

And now you guys have 6. But it’s okay cause you both love kids anyway~

He was doing his best, he truly was. He had his 2 youngest sitting in the little seat by the handle bar, 2 kids in the basket, 1 hanging onto the side and the oldest walking alongside him.

When they got to check out he had to take one of the kids out of the basket, so he opted for his 3rd oldest, his son Kazue, figuring he was older so it’d be a-okay.

He checked out his extensive amount of groceries before loading them up into his car, and his kids.

He pulled out of the grocery store parking lot and got on the road, his kids singing along to the radio and chatting amongst themselves.

They had been driving for 6 minutes when his oldest child, Ren, spoke up. “Uh, dad?” He hummed, briefly checking the rear view mirror before returning his gaze to the road. “When are we going back to get Kazue?” His face lost all color as his eyes widened.

As swiftly and safely as he could he pulled over to the side of the road, whipping around in his seat to take a head count. ‘1..2..3..4..5...oh sh-’ Turning back around he got back onto the road, taking the nearest u-turn and rushing back to the store. 

Unbuckling his kids from their carseats he hurried them back into the store, his oldest holding the 2nd borns hand, as he held all 3 of the younger ones in his arms.

He frantically entered the store, almost collapsing with relief when he saw his son sat at the customer service desk with the security guard, eating a lollipop before smiling when he saw his dad come to pick him up.

After giving proof that yes, he was his father, he took all of his kids back home after getting them some ice cream.

...this would be one conversation he was not excited to have with you....

Yahaba Shigeru: 

Yahaba and his 2 sons had been hanging out in the living room while you finished making some snacks in the kitchen.

Yahaba had been trying to set up a DVD player, you guys were going to watch some home-videos from your high school days but they were all on CD.

So, after borrowing one from his parents house, he set out to hook it up to the TV.

...Which was proving much more difficult then he first anticipated.

His two boys, Itsuki (6) and Hayato (8) were in there with him, ‘helping’ as they had called it.

Yahaba groaned as he sat back, a hand ruffling through his hair as he racked his brain to think of the problem.

You had finished preparing everything so you came in, with the food, and set it down on the coffee table.

You came up behind your husband, kneeling down behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders.

“How’s it going?” He sighed, leaning back into you.

“Well, I think I know what I need to do, I’m going to have to stick my hand back there though. Hey Hayato, can you help me out buddy?” The 8 year old excitedly nodded.

“Great, I need you to hold this flashlight here, hold it steady okay?” Hayato nodded with a ‘Yup!’ before Yahaba laid down on his side, maneuvering to where he could see the back of the TV.

All had been going well, he had just got it hooked up, and after having you test it, it worked!

He tried to get himself out from behind the TV, until a sharp edge caught his finger.

“Sh!t!” Your eyes widened, “Shigeru!” He hadn’t realized his slip up until he was out from behind the TV, faced directly with your glare.

“Kids, don’t say that.” His youngest blinked at him. “But why?”.

Kneeling down in front of him Yahaba tried to explain, but it was a little hard when you were glaring holes into the back of his head and his oldest was giggling at the situation.

*Iwaizumi Hajime: 

It was a weekend in summer vacation, and you and your husband were both off work.

This meant, you guys got a whole day to spend with your 3 boys, and one of the things you guys loved to do as a family was play games.

On this particular afternoon, your sons had chosen to play twister.

You were a little skeptical because you had 3 competitive, rambunctious boys. 

And an equally competitive rambunctious husband.

But after getting 4 identical pouts you couldn’t say no...

But, you elected to be the spinner. (..for your own safety)

“Left hand, green.” This put your middlest son in quite the predicament.

The only space available was the Green directly by his fathers hand, meaning he’d have to crawl under Iwaizumi.

“Okay Hajime, right hand, yellow.” Iwaizumi grimaced as he tried to reach it.

 This wasn’t good, the mat was slick, his hands were sweating-

“oOf” Before he could catch himself he had completely lost his balance, landing right on his son.

You gasped in horror as you saw the life get squeezed out of your 5 year old, scrambling from where you sat to check on your now pancaked son.

“...Hiro..are you okay..?” 

His small head shot up with a “I’m okay!” Before he, albeit wearily, stood up brushing off his godzilla t-shirt before continuing on with his life.

You took a deep breath as you sat back down, flashing a warning look towards your husband who sheepishly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

And after checking that yes, your son really was okay, you guys continued on with some...safer games.

Futakuchi Kenji: 

You had left for a weekend visit to see your parents in your hometown, leaving your husband and Your 3 girls alone.

It was a friday night, so after having a less than healthy dinner, ice cream and a fair amount of other sweets, Futakuchi figured a movie before bed would be a good way to finish off the night.

He scrolled through netflix trying to find a movie he could watch with his girls.

“Daddy, can we watch snow white?!” Futakuchi looked down at his oldest, Hayami, before he shrugged. “Sure.”

He may be a guy, but he was not above watching princess movies if it meant his babies were happy. Besides, it was a disney movie, what bad could be in it!

Everything was going swell, until the witch showed up.

He felt the sick feeling of dread in his stomach as soon as he felt his middlest curl in tight to his side, his youngest hopping off of the couch and climbing into his lap.

...Disney SHOULD have been a safe bet, but with the way his 3 girls were clinging onto him for dear life, he probably should have previewed it first..

That night he put them to bed, reading them a quick story before giving them each a kiss on their forehead and tucking them into bed. 

15 minutes.

15 minutes of almost sleep when he heard you guys’ bedroom door creak open, 3 sets of little feet pad over to his side of the bed.

“...daddy..?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he opened them, brown eyes meeting the teary ones of his 3 children as they stood there. Speaking in as soft of a voice as he could he tried not to sound as tired as he knew he was.

“What is it munchkin?” His daughters all fidgeted where they stood, fiddling with the hems of their princess night gowns as they stood there.

“...We’re scared...can we sleep with you..?” Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get them to sleep like you could, and being incredibly tired himself he moved to the side, opening the covers and making room for all 3 of his princesses.

...This was going to be a long night for him.. 

Daishou Suguru: 

Daishou had been playing outside with his kids, his 2 year old son Kento and his 5 year old daughter Shizuko.

His son was sat on his shoulders, one of Daishou’s hands wrapped firmly around the boys ankles while the other pushed his daughter on the swing.

You had been inside getting dinner ready while they had been outside; smiling fondly at the smiles that were plastered on their faces.

When dinner had finished you walked to the sliding glass door, opening it and calling to them. “Dinners ready! Come inside and wash up so we can eat.” Your daughter and husband replied with ‘okay!’ as you went back to get plates. 

Slowing down the swing Daishou brought it to a stop so Skizuko could safely get off.

In all honesty, he was a good dad.

He was very mindful of his children and their surroundings, so they didn’t get hurt too often.

He was also very careful not to accidentally hurt them.

But accidents happen.

Walking to the back door, he, somehow either forgot or the thought didn’t register in his mind that his son was still perched on his shoulders.

He didn’t remember until a loud *whack!* was heard, and his sons cries sounded above him.

..He had tried going inside, through the door, with his son on his shoulders.

Bringing him down from his shoulders he quickly brought him inside to set him down on the counter, you almost screaming when you saw the bruise forming on his little forehead.

“Ah-wha-how- SUGURU! What happened?!”

Groaning Daishou gently put a small ice pack on his sons head, “...He whacked his head on the door frame...” You looked at him, “And how did he do that?”

Daishou sighed as he looked down, grimacing at the purple mark already present on his sons head.

...For the next few nights the couch became a good friend of his.

Numai Kazuma: 

Today was your son, Kazuya’s birthday. Today he would be turning 1.

Kazuya was the first, and so far only child you had with your husband of 3 years Kazuma Numai.

You and Numai were still learning how to be parents, and it had been an interesting journey to say the least, but you guys were doing good!

Your relatives and friends had just left, leaving you, Kazuma and your son.

It was pretty late so you started cleaning up in the kitchen and Numai started in the living room.

Kazuya had been pretty fussy, you both figuring he was tired, but when you tried to put him to sleep he wouldn’t even close his eyes.

So, deciding it’d be best to get it out of the way Numai held Kazuya as he was cleaning.

Things had been going just fine before Kazuya had reached out to grab at something on a nearby book shelf, causing the book shelf to start tipping over.

At that moment the only thing going through Numai’s mind was ‘stop the book shelf’, because at the moment, getting his son and him crushed by a bookshelf seemed like a very bad thing.

But what he hadn’t thought of was the fact that reflexively he had used both of his arms to stop said shelf (which didn’t even fall), the same two arms that had been holding his- “WAAAHH”

His eyes snapped down to the BABY he had just let go of, now crying on the floor.

You rushed into the living room, seeing your husband now cradling your still crying son, whispering apologies into his hair as he kissed the top of his head.

“Kazuma what happened?” 

He avoided eye contact. 

“...Kazuma...” Looking down he spoke.

“...I dropped him...”

...

“...you what?”

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 7

Chapter 6

A/N: this is a more fluffy chapter but there could be angst if you squint hard enough. Also if you didn’t know, a while back I made a post about me headcanoning Asmo as Nonbinary using he/they pronouns with the ability to shapeshift into whatever form he/they felt most comfortable in for the day. I’m going to start leaning harder into it from now on. And if your just somehow seeing this fic for the first time, Mammon and Arella are referring to Cyrus as their son just to try to get Mammon to disassociate Cyrus from what the witches did to him and thankfully it seems to be working for them.

After Mammon had gotten Cyrus dressed- with little difficulty aside from some indignant squawking on the baby’s part- he just plopped down on the bed letting the boy lay on his chest. Arella joined them from the bathroom shortly. She tossed the towel in the hamper as she shrugged her jacket on as she looked at them.

“Here, give me the baby while you go and change out of your school uniform.” She says as she holds her arms out for Cyrus.

“Nah, I don’t mind going out like this.” He shrugged as he continued to lay there.

She stared at the demon before it dawned on her. “You don’t actually want to put our son down or give him up, do you, dear?”

“Pft whaaat? No. You’re imaginin’ things,” the Avatar of Greed turns his head away, blushing as he heard Arella giggling. “Hey, quit laughin’ at me.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiles as she calms down. “I wasn’t laughing at you, dear. I just never thought you would bond with him so quickly...”

He turned his head back toward her. “Ya think I have? He just seems so comfortable with me, so I didn’t want to move him.”

“Seems like it,” She sat down beside her mate. “He does seem comfortable, but he’ll be fine, I promise. So go change, m’kay?” She leans down to press a kiss to the demon’s forehead before taking their son from his spot on Mammon’s chest.

“When were you going to tell me he only takes an ounce at feedings?”

“Well, I was hoping that it was something that would go away the more he got used to taking a bottle... Satan suggested the idea of induced lactation and I’ve been looking into it. Your brother said he took about two ounces that first night when he was having breast milk... I’ve been working on it ever since he came home. He hasn’t put on any weight since he got here so I’m worried.”

“Ya still could have told me. I was really worried when I saw he only to an ounce when I fed him just now. Like no wonder he’s always cryin’, he’s constantly hungry...”

“I know, but you were already having trouble with Cyrus and your brothers and I just didn’t want to add to that.”

His eyes widened at that and now he felt guilty again. “Thanks, y’all have been really considerate on me bein’ so ridiculous.” He sat up. “And... thanks for trying to do this for him. I don’t know how long it’ll take until your milk comes in but I hope for his sake, it’s soon.”

She nodded. “I don’t think it will take much longer since I’m constantly caring for him. There are multiple times he’s latched on to me after deciding he’s done with the bottle when I’ve been half asleep at late night feedings. It might be tricking my brain into thinking that I actually gave birth to him and I need to start producing milk. Plus, part of the reason I want to go shopping is because my breasts have starting swelling and I need to get bigger bras so I can stop borrowing the ones Asmo uses when he takes a more feminine form. I know he’s been experiencing varying degrees of dysphoria because he can’t change his form on those days due to not having any bras to use.”

Mammon only hummed in response.

As if on cue, Cyrus started whining and pushing his face into her chest trying to find her nipple and latch on to it, signaling he was hungry once more.

“I’m gonna go change my clothes. Go ahead and try him. I’ll be back shortly.” He pressed a kiss to the human’s cheek as he got up and left.

“Okay... Here we go.” Naturally, she was a little nervous as this was something she hadn’t done before. Obviously, she knows it’s natural -first time jitters- but she’s more worried about whether or not she’s able to give milk yet.

She pulls her shirt up enough to slip her arms out of the sleeves and the bra straps and guided him to latch on to her. Cyrus started suckling quickly before slowing down once he managed to draw milk from her. Arella had to suppress a gasp at the sensation before feeling joy at the thought of being able to make sure Cyrus would be properly fed and no longer be hungry every half-hour.

As he fed, Arella started to run her hands through his soft, fluffy white hair. Once the baby was finished on one side, she grabbed a rag and laid him against her shoulder to burp him. He only needed a couple of pats on the back before burping enough to where his wanted to go back for the other side. She would only readjust him in her arms to let him continue as Mammon rejoined him.

“Did it work?” He looked hopeful, smiling as Arella nodded happily.

“Now I feel like I can really consider myself his mother.” her voice was filled with relief at the thought.

“What? You've always been his mother even if ya didn’t carry him yourself.” the demon rejoins his mate on the bed, nuzzling into her neck. “Yer such a fantastic mother. Makes me wish we could have kids of our own but...” He looked down at Cyrus for a moment, “there’s so much risk to you when it comes to your bearing children to a demon as powerful as I am... It makes me think that the risk would be greater than the gain.”

“Why’s that?” Arella turned to look at Mammon, catching the uncertain look in his eyes.

“The baby will parasitize your soul throughout the pregnancy and there’s no way to stop it from happenin’ . You’d have only a ten percent chance of survivin’, less if you’re carryin’ twins or triplets- and with your connection to Lilith, someone who was once an angel, the chances could be far less than one percent. You can survive if your soul is strong enough but that’s a risk I’m not so sure I want to take with you... if it's something that does happen, it’s a choice I’ll leave to you whether or not you choose to keep them since it’s your body and I won’t tell you what to do with it.”

She nodded at that as she leaned her head against his. It only took Cyrus a few minutes to finish feeding before he decided he was done. Arella only repeated the process of burping him.

“We should go now. There’s a stroller in my closet if you would grab it out for me, please.”

Mammon only nodded as he got the stroller out while Arella grabbed the diaper bag before laying their son in it. As they left the room, Asmodeus perked up from his spot at the counter, whatever he had been making forgotten the moment he saw his brother and Arella.

“You’re going out somewhere? I can watch the baby while you two have a date night?” His eagerness to look after his nephew was charming.

“Nah, that’s alright Asmo, we’re just gonna take him with us.”

“Oooh can I come with you then? I only just got back from the second layer so I haven’t really got a chance to see him.”

“That’s fine,” Arella smiled. “It’ll only be for a little bit since we don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“That’s fine. Let me grab my bag. I’ll be right back.” The Avatar of Lust rushed off to get the aforementioned bag.

“I think we should be careful with them. Asmo might just try to steal our son,” Mammon chuckled.

“Maybe,” Arella hummed as Asmo returned to them, ready to go as the three of them headed out.

———————————————————————-

Next

Masterlists

[elisaphoenix13]

Bonding With Clay

Tony woke with a soft groan and rolled onto his side to throw his arm around Stephen and buried his nose in the back of his neck. He even hooked a leg over Stephen's and ground his hips against his ass until the younger man hugged and swatted back at him.

"Tony, no. There's a child in our bed and I have to go to Kamar-taj today." Stephen mumbles.

Tony cracks his eyes open and lifts his head to look over Stephen and sighs when he finds Valerie cocooned against the sorcerer. "Doesn't she have her own bed?"

"She had a nightmare."

"What about William?" Tony complains and Stephen chuckles.

"You know as well as I do that there are some things parents can do that siblings can't." The sorcerer pushes Tony's face away. "Go brush your teeth."

"Absolutely not. You have to suffer my morning breath now." Tony laughs and kisses Stephen. It only lasted a few seconds before the younger was pushing him away again with a look of disgust.

"I can even taste it!"

Tony laughs again and rolls back over to get out of bed and shuffle into their bathroom to brush his teeth. As he passed Lucy's crib, he found her wide awake and sitting up, patiently gnawing on her teething ring...which she fondly chucked at his head. It was her way of saying good morning and also her way of showing that she liked someone. Fortunately she only threw soft things at people. The more dangerous items were chucked at something random. Like the lab incident.

So he and Stephen considered themselves lucky. Of course they still tried to get her to stop, but she was stubborn like her parents. Lucy did what she wanted.

"Just a minute Lulu. I've been ordered to wash my mouth and you know how Mom is." Tony says and grabs his toothbrush. Lucy babbles in a way a baby might be offended and Tony looks into the bedroom to look at Stephen as he gets out of bed as well. "Y'hear that?"

"She always has something to say." Stephen scoffs as he fixes the blankets over Valerie. "It'll be you, Lucy, and Valerie today. The kids have school and classes, I have things to check on in Kamar-taj, and everyone else is busy."

Tony spits into the sink after rinsing and frowns. "I don't mind, but Val never seems to enjoy our time together."

"She's getting better." Stephen sighs.

It was true...for the most part. Valerie wasn't completely reliant on Stephen anymore ever since the twins came to live with them. She adored William, and of course she loved Tony, but she and her father had yet to find something to bond over. She loved reading and the piano like Stephen just like Lucy loved being in the lab with Tony. He would figure something out though. Maybe tough out sitting through The Little Mermaid for the fourteen hundredth time? That was Valerie's favorite movie.

"You taking the cloak?" Tony asks.

"Mmhmm." Stephen responds as he brushes his teeth.

"Athena?" Another noise of approval. "Right... we'll figure it out."

"Mmnnbbbftt!" Lucy babbles.

Tony leaves the bathroom and takes the baby out of her crib. "I heard you the first time, bossy."

"If that isn't evidence enough that she takes after you--" Stephen starts until Tony points at him.

"She could have just as easily gotten it from you Duchess."

Stephen chuckles and walks back over to the bed when Valerie sits up and rubs her eyes. While he got ready for the day and explained to the little girl that she would be spending the day with her father and sister, Tony got himself and Lucy ready for the day. His mind was already occupied with how he would spend the day with the girls since Valerie had no interest in the lab, and everything led to Disney movies and tea parties. Not that he had anything against either of those since he was used to it, but he had tried that before and Valerie just didn't seem as interested as she would usually be.

It sort of made him feel like a failure as a father. There had to be something they would enjoy doing together right? Hell, even Lucy enjoyed being run around by Thomas.

"What sounds good for breakfast topolina?" Tony asks as Valerie climbs down from the bed.

"Fwench toast."

Well, that was easy. "French toast it is." Tony says.

Stephen crouches in front of Valerie when he finishes getting dressed and brushes her hair back. "I'll be back later. Have fun with Daddy, okay?"

"Okay."

Stephen kisses her forehead and gets back up to grab his sling ring off the nightstand, and waits just long enough after opening a gateway to wait for Levi to fly into the room and hang on his shoulders. Then he and Athena were through the gateway and it closed behind him, leaving Valerie to stare forlornly at the space it had been. Tony gently pats her head before leading her out of the master bedroom.

"Where's Mooey? Why don't you go get him and you can help me with breakfast." Tony suggests.

"Can we have fwuit?" She asks softly.

"We sure can." Tony smiles. "We can even have some chocolate chips on our french toast if you want."

Valerie smiles and nods before skittering away to her room to find her stuffed cow. A smile from a promise if chocolate chips was a good start to their day, and he would make sure they had a fruit salad with all of her favorites. So with that thought in mind, he descends the stairs to the kitchen where he deposits Lucy into her high chair and answers her demands when she smacks her hands on her tray.

"You are your mother's daughter...but don't tell him I said that." Tony mumbles and searches through the cupboards for the baby cereal puffs. "Look at that! Apple cinnamon flavor, your favorite!"

He pulls out the container and opens it to pour a dozen pieces onto Lucy's tray and she immediately grabs one and pops it into her mouth, humming happily. Lucy would be fed some proper breakfast later, but the puffs would tide her over until he and Valerie cooked and ate their own food. When he started to grab all they would need to make breakfast, Valerie finally joined him with Mooey in one of her arms, and he grabbed a step stool for her to use.

He gave her the easier tasks such as cracking the eggs and putting some cinnamon in them before it was whisked, and while he cooked the french toast, she washed the fruit. Strawberries, grapes, bananas, and even some kiwi were thrown into a bowl after Tony helped her cut them into pieces, and Valerie carefully mixed them together before stepping down from the stool and carrying the bowl to the table. It was amazing how independent Valerie was already being in her own way. She loved helping any way she could and even got a little upset when something was beyond her capabilities. Like when Stephen got sick. She was able to help make him soup but not much else and hated that there wasn't more she could do to make her mommy feel better.

William had to distract her most of the time, and the other times he had to reassure her. Tony and Stephen didn't like the girls to go into their room if one of them were sick because they didn't want them to get sick too.

"Here we go. Piping hot toast with…" Tony makes a show of topping Valerie's french toast with a few chocolate chips and she giggles. "Chocolate chips as promised. Buon appetito."

"Tank you Daddy," Valerie says softly when he places the plate on the table in front of her. He cuts it up for her before kissing her temple and then gets his own plate before sitting across from her.

"Want syrup?" He asks and grabs the syrup dispenser he had filled with warm syrup and pours a little bit on her toast.

"Ba!" Lucy reaches out and Tony chuckles and puts a drop on his finger to stick in her mouth.

"There. Like it? You don't get anymore." Tony says as Lucy sucks on his finger.

Tony made quick work of his french toast and fruit so he could feed Lucy before she started to demand more syrup. He grabbed a jar of chicken and rice--which made him gag a little when he opened it-- and a spoon, then offered a spoonful to the infant. He really didn't understand how babies could like the meat purees. He didn't dare try it in case it tasted as bad as it smelled, and the vegetables weren't much better. Tony was seriously considering giving the task of feeding Lucy her meat and vegetables to the Avengers.

Or the boys if they misbehaved. He knew for a fact the smell hit Peter harder.

"All done." Valerie announces.

"Great job." Tony glances at her plate. "You sure polished your plate. Go ahead and go watch your movie while I finish feeding your sister."

"Kay."

Valerie gets down from her chair and grabs her plate, carrying it to the sink and carefully lifting it up to drop it in. She checked her hands to see if they needed to be washed, found them clean, and shuffled to the living room and asked Friday to put on her favorite movie. Tony smiled and finished feeding Lucy and cleaned her up before taking her to the playpen in the living room, and then returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess. With how quiet things were, Tony honestly would have forgotten that Valerie was even there. All he heard was the tv and Lucy...and the water running.

How Stephen and William remembered her when she was this quiet was nothing short of amazing, but the thought sounded terrible to him at the same time. He didn't forget about Valerie, not by a long shot, but if someone told him they came by and took her to do something, he would be inclined to believe them. But she was sitting on the couch with Mooey clutched in her arms when he finally finished cleaning up and sat on the couch next to her.

"So...I thought of an idea." Tony smiles when Valerie looks up at him.

"Idea?"

"Yup. I think Tibbs is around here somewhere and he's due for his next pedicure."

Valerie's eyes brighten and she giggles. "Dia and Cassie do that!"

"Well I think it's our turn."

The little girl hopped off the couch to go find the pet safe nail polish and Tony looked around for the cat. It didn't take long to find Tibbs dozing in a patch of sunlight on the floor and the feline protested with an annoyed meow when Tony scooped him up.

"I don't know why you bother throwing a fit." Tony snorts as he carries Tibbs back over to the coffee table where Valerie was already waiting. "What color is he getting today topolina?"

"Purple!"

Tony laughs. "Purple it is."

Once Tony sets Tibbs down, Valerie gently takes one of the cat's paws and carefully applies the polish to each nail. Tibbs, the ever chill cat, sat calmly after yawning and patiently let the little girl do his nails. He was more than used to letting the girls do stuff like this to him and knew eventually they would finish and let him go so Tony wasn't worried about him scratching. All the other animals got pedicures as well.

Even Emir.

"Tibbs gets tweats!" Valerie says after finishing.

"He sure does. You know where they are." Tony says and Valerie gets up to retrieve the cat treats.

She shook the bag as she returned from the lower cabinets in the kitchen, and Tony laughed when the cat's ears perked up. Tony helped his daughter open the bag and she grabbed a small handful which she held out and let Tibbs eat straight from her hand. While the cat purred contently, Tony glanced over at Lucy to find the baby fast asleep with her teething ring still in her mouth.

"Where's the Play-Doh Uncle Steve got you?" Tony asks and Valerie points towards her room. "Go get it. We'll make some sculptures."

"You too?" She asks.

"Me too. You can show me how to make flowers."

Once again, the little girl scurried away, leaving Tony with The Little Mermaid to fill the silence, but soon enough, Valerie came back with an armful of containers of Play-Doh. She sets them down on the coffee table before sitting on Tony's lap, and he smiles as she starts opening the containers and taking out the clay. They spent the next couple of hours shaping the clay into different things, from flowers to Tony's suits, until they were rudely interrupted by Lucy's teething ring. Specifically when it sailed into the air and hit the side of Tony's head.

"I'm guessing it's time for lunch." Tony snorts and lifts Valerie out of his lap, groaning as he gets up from the floor. "Daddy's getting too old for this."

"Burro di arachidi e gelatina?" Valerie requests.

"Yes ma'am. With milk." Tony says as he walks over to the playpen and picks up Lucy. He sniffs and grimaces. "After I change your sister."

Valerie wrinkles her nose. "Yucky."

"You said it. You finish your sculpture and then we can make lunch and watch a movie. Sound good?" Tony asks.

"Uh-huh."

Tony couldn't believe he was worried about this just this morning. He enjoyed playing with the clay with Valerie, and he was pretty sure she enjoyed herself too. He made a mental note to think of more things to do for the future days like this, with another side note to think of things that Lucy could eventually join in on. The baby was growing up fast and wouldn't be content to stay in the playpen forever.

"Phew." Tony reels back a little when he opens the baby's diaper once he gets her on the changing table in the master bathroom. "Are you taking lessons from Harley?"

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Simple Man

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3351

Summary: It was never what he thought he would have. But now Dean doesn’t want to let go. 

Notes: I was going to wait and make this a Thanksgiving special, but I thought today would be more fitting. I can’t believe Supernatural ends tonight! This show has been a part of my life for a while now and it will forever stay in my heart.  I had a really really good time writing this one. It might be one of my favorites I’ve written for Dean, if not my top pick. I hope you guys enjoy it and look forward to seeing more. Carry on. 

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

(P.S. thank you to my beta reader @suckmysupernatural​. Love you!)

-

Oh, take your time, don’t live to fast

Troubles will come and they will pass 

He had slept through an alarm he didn’t remember setting. It wasn’t until he heard the creaking of the door that he stirred, reaching under his pillow for his knife. But it wasn’t there. Dean panicked as footsteps crept towards him. They were nothing more than a small pitter-patter on the wood floor, but he still prepared himself for the attack. The small creature leapt on top of him and he rolled over so he was pinning it beneath him. It giggled. It giggled?

“Daddy, Mom said she needs you in the kitchen.” 

Dean leaned over to the night stand and turned on the lamp. A little green eyed girl squirmed out from underneath him and skipped out of the room. 

“The hell…” Dean muttered. He opened the dresser and sure enough, his clothes sat in the drawers. He put on a T-shirt and slowly walked out of the room. The smell of bacon and coffee coaxed him to the kitchen. He couldn’t believe what he saw. 

You were standing over the stove, trying to save the bacon from burning. Dean was just frozen in the doorway. Finally spotting him, you made your way over to him, which was difficult with the little boy clinging to your leg. 

“Thank God you’re up. I need you to finish making breakfast.” You lifted the boy into your arms. “Eric’s got a fever and Ellie is going to wake up any second needing to be fed.” You gently laid a hand on Eric’s forehead. “I’ll call the doctor as soon as I get him to lay down. But you know how impossible that is.” 

“But I’m not tired.” Eric whined. 

“I know, sweetie, but you don’t want to get sicker, do you?” He pouted his lip and shook his head. “Alright, so I need you to go back to bed.” You looked back at Dean. “Can you just finish the bacon? I’ll be back to make their toast.” 

Before Dean could speak, you rushed up the stairs. As if on queue, a baby started to cry from somewhere upstairs. Dean just stood in shock. What the hell was going on?

As if by second nature, he walked around the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel to let the bacon drain off the grease. It felt almost natural. He somehow knew where everything was, even though he had never been here. Or had he? His brain was fuzzy with thoughts he couldn't remember. He saw images flash in his mind. Sam graduating from Stanford. His parents celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary. You… in a wedding dress. 

“Johanna Charlotte Winchester you better be ready for school or your dad’s going to come and get you!” You yelled, coming back into the kitchen, this time a wailing baby in your arms. It wasn’t until now that Dean noticed you were wearing a sheriff’s uniform. You snatched up a piece of bacon and popped it in your mouth. “Thank you.”

You bounced the baby in your arms, trying to calm her down, but she wasn’t having it. The green eyed little girl from early came bounding into the room with her backpack over one shoulder. Ellie continued to bawl. 

“Can you hold her? She always stops crying when you hold her.” You handed the squirming child to him and he tried not to panic. You noticed your husband’s awkwardness. “Rough morning?” You snickered. “Here, I’ll make you some coffee.” 

As the child in his arms slowly stopped her crying, more memories flooded Dean’s head. You telling him you were pregnant for the first time. Going to the emergency room for the birth of his son. Watching Johanna hold her new baby sister. They all felt like dreams, but then how was this all real? 

“I’m feeling a little... off this morning.” He admitted, watching you carefully as if he were waiting for horns to sprout from your forehead. Your face fell. 

“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re sick too.” You put your hand on his forehead. “You’re picking everyone up from the airport today.” 

“Everyone?” Dean’s brows furrowed curiously. 

“I would go get them, but I’m at the station until five.” You sighed, moving your hand down to caress his cheek. “Besides, you’ve been dying to see your brother since the Fourth of July.” 

“Uncle Sam!” Jo exclaimed excitedly. 

“Sammy’s coming?” Dean asked. Finally, something familiar. Your face contorted with confusion. 

“Of course he’s coming. Jessica and the kids are too. They always help prepare for tomorrow and since your parents will still be out on their cruise, we’ll need all the help we can get.” 

“Tomorrow...” He spotted the calendar on the wall, but you answered first. 

“Thanksgiving.” You stated. Your confusion changed to concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to stay home?” Jo raised her hand. 

“Can I stay home too?” 

“Sweetheart, it’s just one more half-day of school before break and then you’ll get to play with your cousins for the rest of the week.” Seeing you start to get stressed, Dean put a hand on your shoulder. 

“You go to work. I’m fine.” He assured you. “I’ll hold down the fort and I’ll pick up Sam at- what time again?”

“3:00.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled. “I know you worked extra last week so you could have the garage closed for Thanksgiving, but I think the fumes might have gone to your head.” You grabbed the keys off the counter. “Oh, and I’ll be taking Baby to work since you’ll need the van to fit everyone.” His look of displeasure made you laugh. “I know, I know, but you’ll have to suck it up for today unless you think the four-year-old can babysit.” 

You kiss Ellie on the forehead before giving Dean a quick, but passionate kiss on the lips. You held out your hand for your daughter to take. 

“Alright, partner, let’s go.” 

The two of you leave and Dean looks down at the baby in his arms. Was this really happening? 

-

Boy don’t you worry, you’ll find yourself

Follow your heart and nothing else

If he was trapped by a djinn, he would have remembered fighting it. This was something else. The more time he spent in the house, the more this world felt real and his hunting life felt like dreams. Maybe… maybe this was real. 

He remembered everything now. He had met you in a bar on New Years Eve. You hit it off talking about cars and classic rock. He proposed about two years later outside that same bar during the first snow of the season. You always said the first snow was the best one. You got married and a couple months later found out you were pregnant with Jo. Johanna Charlotte Winchester was born on April 3, 2007. She was seven. Three years later, Eric Samuel was born on November 29th. He was four. Lastly, Ellen Sandra was born six months ago tomorrow on May 27, 2014. 

Sammy had a family of his own. He married Jessica right out of law school and the two had two boys; Josh, 8, and Michael, 6. Their families stayed close, even though Sam was in California and Dean in Kansas. They were happy. 

If this wasn’t real, how could he remember all that? 

3:00 rolled around and Eric’s fever had gone down. He called you to make sure it would be okay to take him along to the airport. You told him that as long as he was feeling okay, it should be fine. The doctor said it sounded like the heat in his room was too high. Dean buckled Eric into his carseat and Ellie in her carrier. While Johanna almost looked like a mini-girl version of him, Eric looked like you. His eyes were yours, along with his hair color and his nose. Ellie looked like a fair mix of both. 

Jessica was the first one to greet him since Sam was busy carrying the boys’ bags. He hugged her tight and couldn’t stop beaming. 

“It’s so good to see you guys.” He smiled and she gave him a sunny grin in return. 

“I know Sam’s been eager to see you and the family for a long time. Of course, I’m only here for the food.” She teased and he pulled her into another hug. 

“I can’t believe this.” Dean sighed happily. Sam and Jessica. Him and you. One big happy family. 

“Do I get a hug, or are just going to hog my wife?” Sam snarked, setting down the bags as Dean nearly tackled him. Sam laughed, struggling to breathe in his brother’s crushing hug. “I missed you too, Dean.” 

“Uncle Sam!” Eric cheered, clinging to Sam’s leg. 

“Hey buddy.” Sam smiled, lifting his nephew into his arms. Jessica peaked into the baby carrier Dean had set on the bench. 

“Look at how big she’s gotten.” She awed. Ellie was asleep, so she spoke quietly. Jess frowned, finally noticing the two brown haired boys fighting over one of their comics. “Josh, stop pushing your brother.” She scolded. 

“He took my comic!” The older of the two retorted. Jessica just gave him a stern look and he surrendered. 

“Michael, give it back when you’re done reading.” Sam ruffled his youngest son’s hair. Dean knelt down. 

“So are you two tough guys too cool to give your uncle a hug, or what?” He pulled his nephews into a warm embrace. “Are you both taller? You’re taller than the last time I saw you.” Dean pat Josh on the back. “You’re gonna be taller than your dad before you know it.” 

“You know, you’d see them more if you flew out to California.” Jessica noted. Dean’s eyes widened. She laughed. “I know, I know, you have a thing about flying.” 

“I want to go to California!” Eric exclaimed.

“One of these days, we can go on a roadtrip in Baby to Uncle Sam and Aunt Jessica’s, how does that sound?” Dean promised. Eric nodded, excitedly wriggling in Sam’s arms. 

Everyone loaded up into the van, Sam sliding into the passenger seat. Dean had to laugh. This was just so crazy. Here they were, driving in a van packed full of children. Their children. He thought of all of the times Sam sat beside him in the impala, the two weary from a hunt. It felt like a different lifetime. Like a different world. It felt less real. 

-

You’ll find a woman and you’ll find love

And don’t forget son, there is someone up above

Four children ran around the backyard, jumping in leaf piles and chasing each other with sticks. Jo seemed to rule the yard, keeping her older cousin at bay with her stubborn persistence. Dean smiled proudly. 

“She’s quite the pistol.” Jessica noted with a laugh, jutting her head towards Johanna. She was sitting beside you, bouncing her baby niece in her arms. 

“I wonder where she gets that from.” You gave your husband a smirk. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I love you so much.” He whispered. The tone in his voice made you glance up at him. He was watching you with intensity in his eyes. So much love and yet… there was pain there. 

“I love you too.” You laced your fingers with his, your concern evident in your voice. “Dean, are you okay? You’ve been acting a little weird all day.” You spoke quietly so you wouldn’t worry your brother-in-law. Your husband gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m fine, really. I’m just…”  Dean felt an overwhelming wave of emotion and choked back tears. “Really happy.” He lifted your chin up, bringing your lips to his. Everything was perfect, right down to the way your lips fit perfectly against his. He knew, without a doubt, that this was real. 

Soon it was time to put the kids to bed. Sam’s boys slept on the pull-out couch in the basement. Eric was exhausted from a day of excitement, as well as his baby sister. Dean was charged with the task of putting a rambunctious Johanna to bed. 

“I want to stay up and drink beer like a big kid.” She pouted, making the adults in the room chuckle. Dean crouched down and picked her up. 

“Alright, here’s the deal. I promise that when you’re a big kid like me and your mom, then you can stay up and have a drink with us. But until then, you’re gonna be my little deputy right?” He tapped the golden plastic badge that she never took off. Jo grinned from ear to ear and nodded. Humming a Bob Segar tune, he took her upstairs to her room and tucked her into bed. 

When he came back down stairs, his brother and the two women were smirking at him. 

“What?” You and Jessica exchanged a look and burst out laughing. “Come on, what?”

“That girl has you wrapped around her finger, Dean.” Jessica snickered. You took a sip of your beer. 

“Oh, he’s like that with Ellie, too. He dotes on them like you wouldn’t believe. One little pout from Johanna and he melts.” You couldn’t help but beam at your husband. You loved the way he was with the kids. 

“I got her in bed, didn’t I?” Dean huffed, taking his seat beside you and resting a hand on your knee. Sam shook his head. 

“It’s all in the looks, brother. You may think you’ve one this round, but I saw the look in Jo’s eyes.” Sam gave his brother a sure nod. “She knows where she stands.” 

“At least I’ve got Eric,” You sighed teasingly. “He’s a mama's boy, through and through.” 

You curled up beside Dean, comfortable in his warmth. He kissed the top of your head.

The hours passed with plenty of laughter and love. Soon, it was getting close to 11:00 and you wanted to get plenty of rest for the busy day tomorrow. Everyone would be helping prepare the massive Thanksgiving meal that the Winchesters made every year. Sam and Jessica said goodnight and headed to the guest room while you and Dean made your way upstairs. 

You reached your rooms and Dean’s hands found your waist, his lips trailing up your shoulder to your neck. You leaned back into his embrace, bringing your hand up to tangle your fingers in his golden-brown hair. His hands started to wander and you sighed mournfully. 

“Baby, we both have to be up in the morning.” You groaned, breaking away from him. When you turned around, he was pouting, his green eyes big and sad. So that’s where Johanna got it. He was just so impossible to resist, but if you didn’t go to bed now, you’d be exhausted before dinner even started. You draped your arms around his neck. “I’ll tell you what; how about we get a good night’s sleep tonight…” you pulled him close and whispered into his ear, “and I’ll give you something to be really thankful for tomorrow.” 

Dean’s eyes widened and his smirk spread into a smile. 

“Mrs. Winchester, we have a deal.” He loved the way that sounded coming from his lips. Mrs. Winchester. 

You gave him a long and passionate goodnight kiss before changing into your pajamas and climbing into bed. 

It must have been around 12:30 when the baby started crying. The baby monitor was on your nightstand, so you were awakened by the sound first. Dean moved to get up, but you stopped him. 

“I’ll get her.” You sleepily shuffled out of the bedroom. Reaching the hall, you muttered something that your half-asleep husband only half comprehended. Something about the electricity acting up again. 

The crying continued and you didn’t return. Dean yawned, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes and got out of bed. He slowly made his way down the hallway to the nursery. The door was ajar and the lamp had been turned on. You must have gone downstairs to get her a bottle. 

Dean picked up his crying daughter, rocking her soothingly in his arms. She wailed and wailed until she heard his voice. 

“Alright, sweetheart. It’s alright. Daddy’s got you.” He hushed. After a moment of rocking and soft whispers, Ellie started to settle down. As soon as her cries reduced to the occasional sniff, Dean set her back in her cradle. “That’s it. You’re going to be just fine. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.” 

Smiling down at his beautiful baby girl, Dean felt something on the back of his neck. When he touched it, his hand came away red. He froze, and as if his body went into auto pilot, he turned around. At first he couldn’t scream. He just stared. 

Your mouth gaped at him, your eyes filled with terror and pain as the blood spread out from your stomach. Ellie started to cry again. 

“No!” Dean screamed. That’s when the fire started. 

And that’s when he woke up.

-

And be a simple kind of man

Oh, be something you love and understand

Dean sat straight up, sweat soaking through his t-shirt, his scream still on his lips. The cool air of the bunker made him shiver. He couldn’t breathe. He heaved and coughed as if the smoke really filled his lungs. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jump out of the bed and flatten himself against the wall, holding out his fists to fight. 

“Dean?” You rose slowly, walking towards him cautiously. “It’s okay. It was just a dream. You’re okay.” 

He just stared at you, taking in every feature. You watched his eyes fill with tears and his chin tremble as he tried to speak. Nothing came out, just a strangled sounding cry. Dean fell to his knees and you rushed to hold him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just a nightmare. 

Dean wrapped his arms around your middle and leaned his head against your stomach as you soothingly ran your fingers through his hair. He didn’t make any sound as he cried, but the tears fell endlessly down his face. He was shaking in your arms. 

“Dean, honey, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” You whispered. This wasn’t the first time that he’d woken suddenly from a dream, but it had never been like this. 

You told him that you were pregnant today. He seemed happy. Shocked, but happy. But now? Whatever was going through his head was breaking him. You sunk down in front of him so you could hold him fully, letting him cry into your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” He finally choked out. “I’m sorry that this is all I can give you. I’m sorry that we don’t have a big house full of kids. That Sam has lost any chance at happiness. That we can never have a normal life.” You pushed back. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” 

“I’m sorry that this baby is going to grow up haunted and broken… just like me.” His voice cracked. You put a hand on his cheek. 

“Dean…” You pressed your forehead against his, feeling your own tears start to fall. “This baby is going to be loved and wanted and cherished, just like you.” You kissed him gently, reminding him of your adoration of this hero of a man. 

Dean held you closer, letting your words sink into his heart. He wanted to believe it. He wanted more than anything to believe it. Even in his beautiful dream, you ended up burned and bloody. Even in his dream, he was broken. 

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He would try like hell to give you a life as close to perfect as he could manage. Maybe that meant hunting together until you went down guns blazing. Maybe that meant settling down, someday, somewhere. He would try. 

Baby be a simple kind of man

Oh, won’t you do this for me, son, if you can

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks​ Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

[kyodzuken]

domestic headcanons - death the kid

aka; you move in with kid and he’s kinda ooc but also cute so let me have my fun.

- moving in with kid was literally one of the most stressful and yet rewarding parts of your life. lots of boxes falling down the stairs as you and death the kid run hastily to try and salvage your belongings, only to slip on the hardwood floors and fall on your ass.

- he wanted (needed) absolutely everything in your house to be symmetrical, and that was expected, so you left most - if not all - of the decorating to him.

- a lot of compromises,, which eventually turned to kid slowly changing everything into how he liked it

- and you didnt complain, because seeing the soft blush on his face, and a small content smile as he stared at your first house together, that was enough.

- the first week you'd moved in, kid got sick, and you'd spent the entire week locked away in your house, taking care of your boyfriend.

- and the little shit wasn't making it any easier.

- you'd make him soup and he'd refuse to eat it unless you fed it to him

- 'babe! no! i'll get sick!!' you'd whine

- '(y/n), do i look like i care? now c'mere!' he'd state, the temper tantrum breaking through his usually cool and calm tone, as he made grabby hands from the bed, his nose red and his face pouty.

- and even if death the kid was sick, didn't mean he was quiet during your movie marathons - that week settling for twilight as you were sprawled out on the couch, trying your best to avoid the warm embrace of your (sick) boyfriend.

- 'oh my god, did he SERIOUSLY name their kid RENESMEE??'

- 'kid i- bAHAHAHHA'

- his antics were one of the many reasons you fell in love with him, and you genuinely did your best to take care of the reaper boy.

- sometimes when you'd be making some soup or dinner for him, he'd sneak up behind you, before locking his hands around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder, mumbling sweet nothings as he thanked you for taking care of him.

- in the mornings you'd get up to get ready and he'd grab onto your waist and pull you back into bed with him, as you struggled to escape his grasp.

- 'kid, you may be sick but i still have school...'

- '(y/n), in case you forgot, my dad is literally lord death. you can miss a week. and a day. eight days. perfect.'

- you wouldn't even argue with him about it either, because he was just that convincing.

- once y'all had settled in, he made it a mission to cuddle and watch movies every single night.

- 'kid i have homework-'

- '...that doesn't change anything.'

- cuddling with kid is great because he insists that both of you have equal amount of blanket and pillows; for the symmetry, of course.

- he's the type to let you lay on his chest, and he'd play with your hair while you watched so-bad-it's-good romcoms; sprawled out on the couch as he fed himself (and occasionally you) some skittles or popcorn, your eyes too fixated on the tv to notice his fleeting glances at your form.

- sometimes you'd watch a horror movie, just to have the boy jump into your arms during the scary bits.

- 'you can't blame me, (y/n)! pennywise jumped out of NOWHERE! how do you expect me to notice-’

- you two have found yourselves falling asleep on your living room couch one too many times ngl, and you aren't complaining bc falling asleep with kid is when you sleep the best!!

- sometimes you'd forget to fold the toilet paper in a triangle

- you never hear the end of that one

- but you genuinely try your best, and kid sees that, and his heart swells seeing you adjust a painting to be perfecting in line, or see you buy two towels instead of one, so they'd be perfectly symmetrical.

- ngl you've tried dying kid's hair a few times

- '(y/n) i'm literally a shinigami dont you think i've tried already-'

- 'babe, it's a bONDING EXPERIENCE.'

- 'i think we can bond in other ways dont you think-'

- 'no.'

- your parents knew you'd moved houses, and it took you a lil while to tell them it was because you and kid moved in together.

- but he'd met your parents before, and they loved him.

- you were on a call with your parents - facetime to be exact, walking around as you showed them your new house, a collection of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' erupting from your mobile phone.

- that was until kid accidentally (totally not accidentally) entered the room.

- '(y/n)!! what are you cooking for dinner tonight?? also please help me unpack these boxes it's been weeks! oh-OH!'

- and your parents were literally shook

- '(y/n)... is this the roommate you were talking about...'

- you were very scared at first because you thought they'd be mad,

- but no, they literally booked a flight to death city right then and there. like literally on facetime your dad just booked a ticket

- 'mom- dad- no i-'

- yeah,,, needless to say, they're like your number one stans.

- dates are always perfectly planned

- so dinner dates and nights out are not very common.

- kid has to plan everything perfectly; he just loves you so much and would hate for you to experience anything less than perfection, and yet somehow SOMETHING goes wrong.

- like a dog will run past and splash water on your dress

- or he'll get salmonella in the middle of the date from last night's chicken (that HE COOKED LORDD)

- and you'll have to reassure him it's fine and you had a great time, as the boy nearly breaks down in the expensive restaurant he had to pull strings to get into.

- and you wouldn't have it any other way.

- the gang has come uninvited one too many times

- once you two were making out, his hands running through your hair as you shared fleeting kisses in your bedroom, until you heard the (very) familiar

- 'hELLOOO! IT'S ME, BLACK STAR! LITERALLY THE GREATEST AND BIGGEST STAR EVER I-'

- and you emerged from your shared bedroom like-

- 'PLEASE... what do you want'

- and he didn't answer your question, obv

- and your hair was all messy and some not well hidden hickies were on your neck like

- chile erm... what the hell we gon' do now...

- 'yeah sorry guys i was doing something-'

- 'is *he* something?????' soul asked, snickering whilst pointing to a certain monochromed hair boy behind you.

- who was frantically trying to fix his hair.

- you've also kicked them out one too many times.

- grocery shopping dates are always fun and unpredictable, for kid would have a whole list of what to buy and what quantity, and you'd just be running around like a little kid - eyes glistening at the wide array of candy that stocked the shelves

- '(y/n)- no, you can't ride in the cart i- goddammit.'

- mornings are a whole other story though.

- soft kisses shared as you're entangled in his embrace, the sun seeping through your blinds as you play with soft strands of black and white hair, staring at the sleeping boy infront of you.

- moments like those, where you feel as though nothing in the world matters, they're when you truly realise how whipped  you are for kid, especially when he opens his eyes to mumble a soft

- 'good morning, (y/n).'

- before placing a fluttering kiss on your forehead, as he pulled you in closer.

- once you'd come home, exhausted and on the verge of tears.

- you'd gone out on a mission and your partner had gotten incredibly injured - you genuinely weren't sure if they were going to make it, despite the constant reassurance from stein.

- and kid noticed that, his eyes following your hunched over form as you walked into the bedroom exhausted, tears threatening to spill out any second.

- so he dragged you out of the house for a drive

- which was meant to be for maybe an hour,, so you could get your mind off of things

- but you ended up wandering into the city and just driving

- eventually it was six am

- and you just got home, and immediately fell asleep on the couch

- all in all, moving in with death the kid was one of the best decisions of your life.

- mwah i hope u enjoyed xoxo

[eideticmemory]

FINE LINE | SPENCER REID

Two decades and two children later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting.

Word Count: 2,604.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, drama, romance. Love to see it.

You could feel it. The light illuminating your face, touching it with a gentle heat that made your eyes flutter open. Your head felt heavy, as if your neck was attempting to support the weight of a canon ball. You rested your skull on the back of the chair you sat in, eyelids dropping just above your irises. Just in the distance, you could make out a cinema screen. Large, blurry, projecting a bright white screen.

Her image appeared in the center of the square, perfect, in place, still. But you could make out the grin on her face. Watching her dark red lips release the words, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

You could just barely muster up the strength to part your lips, pushing out a small gust of air. It was hot and made your mouth feel like it was on fire.

“H—“

“Oh,” she interrupted you, gently, quietly. You jumped at the feeling of her touching your arm, her palm tight around your forearm. She was cold, freezing, but you could still feel warmth radiating off of her. “I’m afraid you can’t stay too long this time. It’s time to wake up.”

“Hm?” You whined. “Mm?”

“Wake up,” she repeated. “C’mon, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake u—“

“Up!”

You jolted, violently, harshly, your eyes springing open to reveal the usual sight of your bedsheets.

“Mom, wake up,” an exasperated voice sounded from beside you, the words catching your attention instantly. Tightly.

“Huh?” You mumbled, flickering your eyes up to the figure at your side, sitting on your bed, looking at you with a concerned stare. “Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Eden asked. Sunlight shone on her face, giving her the appearance of an angel. Sent to wake you, pull you back into reality. “What were you dreaming about?”

You let out a long sigh, as if you could even begin to explain your subconscious mind to your 15-year-old daughter. “Oh, y’know,” you whispered, sitting yourself upright and resting back against the headboard. “Just...lions, and tigers, and bears.”

“Oh my,” Eden responded, her big brown eyes concentrated on your face.

You chuckled underneath your breath, and let out a quick huff. “Oh, shoot, is your brother up?”

“He’s up, he’s dressed, he’s fed, and reading the Illiad.”

“Oh?” You stepped out of bed, pulling the duvet over your legs to reveal your pajama pants. “What happened to War and Peace?”

“He finished that yesterday.”

“He gets quicker every hour,” you shook your head.

“It’s a genius thing,” Eden shrugged. She fiddled with the ends of her hair, watching the strands brush over her fingers as she chewed her lip. “Hey, mom?”

“Yeah, kid?” You replied, standing in the bathroom mirror as you began to get ready for the day.

“You—you know dad, right?”

You stopped in your tracks, any and all movements coming to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you spun on your heels, slowly, until you came face to face with Eden. “Uh . . . your dad?”

“Yes.”

“Tall? Long, brown hair? Hazel eyes? Has a birthmark on his right thigh?” You listed, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

“Ew,” Eden cringed. “Yes.”

“Never met him in my life,” you shrugged.

“Mom.”

“Kid,” you tilted your head, face softening as you realized how nervous she was. “What’s up?”

She sighed, ducking her head down to avoid eye contact. “I invited him to my sweet 16.”

“Oh.” It came out like reflex. You said the word before you could fully process the information.

“Are you mad?”

“No—huh? E,” you rushed to sit beside her. “You don’t have to hide inviting your father from me—you—you don’t have to invite your father at all. He’s always welcome to visit on your birthday. And of course he should be at your sweet sixteen.”

“Really?” Eden questioned, eyebrows raised. “So, it will be a nice day? A nice party? Everyone will be nice to everyone?”

“Yes, yes, girl scouts honor.”

“Good,” she nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It—“

“Mom!” A shrill voice struck both of you with fear, coming out of nowhere.

“Yes, my love?” You directed at Emerson, watching him fidget with his hands in the doorway. His shaggy brown hair covered his face slightly and his button up was tucked into his khaki shorts.

“My chess tournament starts soon, are you coming?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world, kiddo. You and your sister go downstairs while I get dressed.”

They’re obedient, your kids. Kind, driven, smart — with an average IQ of 187.5. The could take over the world if they really, really wanted to. But they don’t. They just want to go out for pizza, and get their twenty dollar allowance every week, hang out with their friends, focus on school, and . . . to see their father. You solemnly set your toothbrush down in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror — tired, worn out, nauseous from another . . . dream? Nightmare? You’re not sure, and frankly, you don’t want to think about it.

So, you pushed on. You got dressed, fixed your hair, used light makeup to cover your exhaustion. Stepping out into the bedroom, your eyes quickly fell on your cellphone — the device laying on your bedside dresser. Hands on your hips, you shook your head, telling yourself not to do it. It’s not necessary, it’s overbearing to even think about.

Then, you remembered who you were dealing with here. And you rushed over to picked up the phone.

“[y/n] Reid,” he beamed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you talked to E,” you whispered, pacing back and forth in your bedroom.

“I did,” Spencer confirmed. “She called me the other day.”

“To invite you to her birthday party.”

“Yes.”

“And are you planning on coming?” You asked.

“Of course I’m planning on coming. It’s my daughter’s sixteenth birthday.”

“Right, right, it’s not like you missed her fifteenth, or thirteenth, or her twelfth, or her actual birth, or anything.”

“[y/n]—”

“Listen, I didn’t call to argue, or even talk,” you sighed. “I just called to tell you that this party isn’t an option. You will be here Saturday at 10 o’clock sharp, you will help decorate, you will spend time with your children, and you will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. Understood?”

“I have to help decorate?”

“Spencer—“

“I will be there. 10 o’clock. I will help decorate, I will spend time with my children, I will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. I understand.”

You released a quiet huff, like your lungs couldn’t stand to hold the breath any longer. “Thank you.”

Spencer let out a soft, sad laugh, “Haven’t done that in a while.”

Chess gives you anxiety. You understand it. You can conceptualize it, and even play it. Well. But the bubbling in your stomach every time you witnessed a game — particually one where your eight year old son is playing — comes back to haunt you again and again. You don’t worry about Emerson, he can take care of himself. He’s like his father in that way, the game is in his blood. But the tension, the speed, the risk. It made your breath lodge in your chest, and every so often, you had to sigh to regain control.

The only thing that could pull you from that stress is Em. Emerson Derek Reid, the little half smile on his face when he wins a match. It makes the three hour tournaments worth it. Watching your boy play against college level students who have been playing all their lives. Yeah, so has he.

He jumps off stage in an excited state, rushing towards you with open arms. “You’re a tiger, kid!” You exclaim. “You killed it.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he shrugged. “It’s really my opponents’ fault, they wouldn’t know a queen from a rook if it was looking them in the face.”

“Ooh, cat fight.” E remarked, causing Em and you to laugh.

“Hey,” you said. “Since you’re both already out of school today . . . wanna play hookie?”

“Mom? I am shocked!” E gasped, trying hard to contain a laugh.

“Oh, c’mon, we never get to hang out anymore since you guys started these college classes and my business went up. I’m off work, you’re already out of class, let’s just do it. Let’s go shop and eat and hang out and I will write you guys an excuse for tomorrow, okay?” You rambled, putting your hands to their shoulders.

Em and E looked at each other, and after a minute, they looked up at you and nodded.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You took them to the mall. Bought Em some new clothes, but he wasn’t really interested. You and E did most of the picking. He sat in the corner of the store reading and only participated to try on outfits you guys had picked out. You both squealed and told him how cute he looked, and he scrunched up his nose. Just like . . .

And then you bought E some shoes, some vans. There was a huge sell, and she fell in love with everything she tried on. And you fell in love with seeing her happy so you ran up a bill.

“Okay, which one of us is dying?” E said as you sat at lunch. Em bursted out laughing.

“Wha—neither of you! I just wanted to spoil you guys. You kill yourselves all week with school, even though it’s summer. And I never see you, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” Em hummed, an unconvinced look in his face as he eyed his sister. “I bet someone died.”

“Em!” You exclaimed, E’s laughter blending in. “God, you guys are morbid.”

“Our parents both worked in the FBI, we’re basically trained,” E giggled.

Just then, you got a call. Work. Fuck. You stood from the table and stepped outside, excusing yourself first.

“[y/n].”

“Can we close the Pickett case tonight?”

“Raven . . .”

“I don’t want that boy in that house for one more second. [y/n], I will send you more of my notes, but . . . read them, read them. You will understand. Please.”

You sighed, “I’ll be there at ten. If you are not there at ten . . . I’ll wait for you. Let’s do it.”

“Thank you! Thank you, thanks! Bye. Sorry. Bye.”

You took in a deep breath and shook your head.

Nothing was going to spoil your lunch. Not today.

The car ride home, the three of you vibed to music. Your kids knew every word to Fleetwood Mac’s discography and it was your greatest accomplishment. They even developed their own dance routine to Dreams when they were younger.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You pulled up to your house, and as you approached the driveway, you saw a familiar car parked out front. Your stomach flipped, caved in, skipped, hopped, and jumped.

Words can’t even described what it did when you saw him.

Sitting on the porch swing.

“Dad?” Em exclaimed loudly in excitement. You parked in the driveway, eyeing Spencer the whole time.

“Dad?” E said quietly, confusion in her voice. “Did you—“ She directed at you, interrupted by her brother hopping out of the car.

Em ran up to Spencer, and his father scooped him up in a quick motion, spinning him around and kissing his head.

You let out a quick huff, turned to E and smiled, “C’mon, go say hi.”

You followed E out of the car, and watched as she tip toed towards Spencer. She suddenly skipped and jumped into Spencer’s arms.

“Hey, dad,” she said.

“Hey, kid!” He replied, before putting her on her feet. “Your hair is getting so long!”

“Yeah,” she twirled her hair and laughed. “What are you doing here!”

“I wanted to see you guys . . .” He turned to you. “And your mom, who’s quiet as a mouse.”

“Hello,” you shrugged, giving him a kind smile.

“Are you staying for today, dad?” Em asked, tucked under Spencer’s arm.

“I was actually hoping to stay until Sunday, if that’s okay with your mom, of course.”

Your very, very least favorite person on the whole planet.

“Please, mom? He can be here for my birthday!” E pipped.

Em. E. Em. E. Those big, pouty eyes of theirs staring you down. “You can stay in the guest room,” you told Spencer.

“Is that close to your bedroom?” Spencer smirked.

“Heh,” you huffed. “Don’t push it. You can stay upstairs.”

“Yes! C’mon, dad! I made a new model that I wanna show you!”

Later that night, you made the kids pasta. It was one of your finer cuisines, taught to you by an old friend, and they asked for it all the night, especially when they needed to study.

Spencer wandered into the kitchen after getting settled upstairs. “Woah! I thought we could go out for dinner, huh? My treat?”

“We would, dad,” Eden said. “But we both have tests tomorrow. Calculus and Physics. Maybe tomorrow.”

You set their plates down and looked up at Spencer. You walked over to him, eyeing him knowingly as you led him out of the kitchen.

“They’re nerds,” Spencer laughed.

“They’ve also both got an eidetic memory. It’s gonna take them all of three minutes to study, then they’ll be all over you again,” you told him, walking out onto the back patio.

Following you, Spencer closed the door behind him, isolating you two on the porch.

You sat down, plopped down, and looked up at him, “Why are you here?”

“Subtle.”

“Spencer.”

“I mean it, you should be a federal agent.”

“Spencer.”

He sighed heavily, “I have some things I want to . . . handle.”

“Here?” You asked.

“Yes,” he hesitated. “I haven’t been enough a part of the kids’ lives—“

You rolled yours eyes. Yeah, you knew that.

“I want to fix that, to have a real relationship with them.” He continued.

“You’ve always been able to,” you shrugged. “You get distracted.”

“Work,” he muttered.

“Always is.”

“And . . .” he whispered, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the ground.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “And?”

“I — I want to fix my relationship with you.”

Huh.

“I want us to go to therapy.”

Huh.

“Wha—“ You stuttered, rising from your seat. “Spencer, what?”

“Not couples therapy. Nothing . . . romantic,” his voice cracked. “But we can’t keep acting so . . . poorly around the kids. They’re smart, they notice things. They always have.”

“Spencer, how are we gonna go to therapy? You’d need to dig up Freud himself and have him work on us full time.”

“I just think we need to talk,” he murmured. He stepped closer to you, breathing deeply as he towered over you. “Will you please just think about it?”

You stared him in the eye, let out a heavy exhale.

Spencer.

[l-egionaire]

Owl House Fic - Remember Me

They'd been close before he was gone.

He'd called her his "princesa", his "pequeña estrella fugaz", and all sorts of of other cute nicknames delivered while she was swaddled in his arms or being given tickly mustache kisses by him.

He was the only person who ever seemed to be able to get her under control. Whenever she had too much energy and was bouncing off the walls, he'd give her some crayons and a pad of paper or ask her to help him with a project while making it sound like an exciting game. Thus, she was able to channel all her overexcitement into something productive. If she tried to do something risky, like play witch by jumping off her bed while holding a broomstick, he was able to talk her out of it and help her find a safer activity.

He was just as weird as she was. Where she was obsessed with magic and witches, he fawned over art. He talked her ear off all the time about famous artists, sculptors, and painters. He planned trips for him, her, and Mamá to go to museums, practically vibrating with joy at all the different works they saw. Anytime he didn't spend at his job at the auto shop was spent painting, drawing, and sculpting. She was always amazed whenever she saw his hands seem to almost effortlessly glide across a paper or through wood and turn an ordinary object into something extraordinary. It was like real magic and the first time she saw it, she begged him to teach her. Every Saturday became their art day where he would teach her his craft bit by bit, revealing to her the secrets of the magic he practiced.

More than anything though, he was her best friend. All the other kids were usually scared off by her intensity, so he was the only person willing to play with her. They'd read stories together, him doing funny voices and helping her sound out the hard parts. They'd eat massive ice cream sundaes smothered in peanuts, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. Before diving into them he'd wink and make her promise not to tell Mamá he fed her so much sugar. They made so many drawings, crafts, and paintings that they almost ran out of room to put them all. He was without a doubt the person she was closest to in her life.

Which is why it hurt so much when he left them.

She was 8 years old. It was just an ordinary day, specifically a Saturday. Their art day. The two of them had been working hard on finishing a family portrait that they'd been working on as a surprise for the upcoming Mother's day. Unfortunately, he had been called in to work, so she'd spent most of the day in the living room waiting for him to come back, their art supplies set out and ready to use the minute to get back.

Her heart filled with joy when she heard the sounds of her mamá coming down the steps, sure that she was about to tell her that he was on his way home and ready to start painting with her. She moved to hide their half-finished painting from view as her mamá came in, but her smile faded when she saw the hollow expression on her face.

She'd never forget what she said next.

"Luz....mija, I'm sorry. Your papá, he's....he's gone."

Mamá then began to tell Luz how papá had been driving home from work but, another driver hadn't been watching where he was going when they hit her father's car. But Luz could barely hear her, as the words "your papá is gone" repeated inside her head. She didnt even react when mamá bent down and gave her a tight, shaky hug.

Luz went through the next week and a half completely numb. She did things like eating and going through the school day on autopilot. Whenever anyone talked to her she responded with short answers in a monochrome tone. Even her dreams, which used to be filled with vivid magical adventures were now empty and black.

She finally started to come to her senses on the day of the funeral. Mamá put her in a new black dress and they drove to meet with her abuela on her papá's side. The two of them embraced each other tearfully, mamá rubbing soothing circles into her back as she thanked her for being in his life.

They and the rest of his relatives all rode together to the funeral home. Inside was the casket with Papá's body inside. Everyone took turns going up to it and saying their goodbyes. When Luz and her mamá's turn came up, Luz felt a sharp pain in her heart at seeing him laying in the coffin. She had the urge to kiss him on the forehead in the hope he might wake up like the princess in a movie they'd seen together once. But her mamá held her back.

Afterward they had a ceremony where people came up and talked about Papá and his effect on their life. So many stories Luz had never heard about him. Once the ceremony was over they went back to the cars and drove to a cemetery where they had one more speech before Papá's body was buried.

As she watched them lower his casket into the ground, it all finally seemed to hit Luz.

Her Papá was dead.

Which meant no more art Sundays together. No more movie nights with she, him and Mamá snuggled up on the couch, the two of them sneaking kisses while Luz groaned at their mushy romance. No more coming down to find him cooking breakfast, singing along badly to a song blaring from the radio.

He wouldn't be there for her 9th birthday, or her 10th, or 11th. He wouldn't see her graduate from Elementary school along with all the other kids. He wouldn't watch her grow up and become a famous painter like she'd told him she would. They'd never finish their painting for mother's day.

Slowly the sharp pain that she'd felt back in the funeral home came back with even greater strength. It was so intense, she gripped her chest in the hope that would make it stop.

Luz wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to leap down into the grave, bang her fists on the casket and beg her papá to come back to her.

She was seconds away from doing any one of those things or maybe even some combination of the three when she noticed the sound of sniffling come from next to her. She looked over and realized it was coming from Mamá.

For the first time since she'd told her about his death, Luz actually looked at her mamá. She saw the deep anguish on her face. Noticed the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Saw the heavy stream of tears pouring from her eyes despite them already being extremely red. Even her usual bun was frayed and frazzled looking.

Luz gently tugged on the sleeve of her dress. "Mamá? Are you okay?"

She sniffled heavily and warbly replied "Si, Luz. I'm sorry Mija, I just....I can't....." And that was all she could choke out before breaking down into heavier sobs.

Seeing her crying like that, the pain that was in Luz's heart morphed into a deep twisting guilt.

She wasn't the only one who'd lost Papá. Mamá lost him too. She wouldn't be able to go on date nights with him anymore. She wouldn't be able to greet him with a kiss to the cheek when she came down to the kitchen for breakfast. Never get to have their "alone time" Tio Rosa said they had whenever they got Luz to watch her.

And here Luz was. Only thinking of herself. So caught up in her own feelings that she completely ignored how her mamá was feeling. How could she be so selfish?

Despite how tough it was, Luz stuffed all her pain and sadness down and took her mamá's hand. She gently rubbed circles into the back of her palm.

"It's alright mamá. I'm here for you."

She didn't have time to think only about herself. She couldn't be that selfish.

Someone else needed her.

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter one: ICN --> LAX

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 6.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, highly improbable condom placement, unrealistic use of available sex space, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna​ who’s smut is even better than her art

*************************

One day it works out too well, then the next day I’m completely screwed (I still) Who should I live as today, Kim Namjoon or RM? 25, I still don’t know how to live well So, today as well, we just go -- Airplane, Pt. 2 BTS

**************************

Jungkook Jeon is basically your Carmen Sandiego.

You stare down at the photocopy of the state of California driver’s license in your hand, into the face of the brash little fucker you’ve been chasing across the globe for the better part of a year.

He looks barely old enough to drive.

Of course, this picture was taken years ago when he was a sophomore at Stanford. Back before he dropped out of school despite being in the top of his class. Back before he broke the law by taking six million dollars of someone else’s money, then broke his parents’ hearts by disappearing without a trace.

You should already have him in custody — and If he were like any of the other greedy assholes you usually chase, he would be. But instead, Jungkook Jeon has managed to deflect and dodge and avoid you at every turn for months.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

One time, you’d been so certain about cornering him in Argentina that you’d boarded a plane with a pair of thick-necked US Marshals and flown south. You’d had to head back to the States empty-handed and sunburnt and pissed.

The real kicker was when you’d gotten home and opened a one-line email – encrypted to hell and back – with a picture of your FBI Academy graduation headshot attached.

you’re so hot i almost want to get caught. almost.

That had hurt.

So you’d had to lick your wounds, bide your time and wait for a man who apparently didn’t make mistakes to make a mistake. And for a while, he didn’t.

Until he did.

************************************** 

Agent Kim Namjoon is definitely not the pencil pusher you imagined him to be during your many phone calls and other interactions.

No, the man who meets you and your team at Incheon International Airport is what the kids these days call a snack. He is tall and broad and wears a pair of dark thick-rimmed glasses that should make him look like a giant nerd but somehow don’t.

Very, very cute.

“Welcome to Korea,” he says with an easy smile. You smile back, then clear your throat and remind yourself you’re not here to flirt with your contact with Korea’s National Intelligence Service.

Seriously.

Agent Kim’s English is immaculate – this you already knew since you’ve exchanged more than a few calls in recent weeks. He’s got his own team ready for briefing at his headquarters. After a quick drive, you’re all in one room going over the plan.

His guys have tracked Jeon to a high-end restaurant in Seoul where he’s been working for a few months. They already have a rough sketch of the area. You’re going to block off every exit, cover every angle, and make sure there’s no way he’s getting out of that restaurant without coming through one of you.

This should go off without a hitch – but then you remember Argentina and frown.

“He’s there. My guys are ready to go,” Agent Kim says, after taking a quick call on his cell phone.

It’s decided, then.

You load into black vans and take off for the west end of the city. Agent Kim drives and you have the chance to look out the window at the streets. It’s a beautiful place, you think. Agent Kim seems to read your mind.

“You should come back sometime,” he says. “When you’re not here on business.”

Sigh. You’re going to have to flirt with this man, aren’t you?

“I would like that. Maybe you could show me around some time,” you reply.

His eyes stay on the road – his hands locked at 10 and 2 – but you see the ghost of a smile pass over his lips. You smile to yourself and look back out the window.

Minutes later you’re parked outside an industrial-looking brick building. Gleaming glass-and-stone condos and perfectly manicured greenscaping confirm you are in a high-dollar neighborhood. It’s a Saturday night in a ritzy part of Seoul and you’re probably about to ruin someone’s date night.

Or maybe rescue it, depending on the date.

You stare out at the restaurant and imagine Jungkook Jeon inside, going about his life without realizing you’re here to throw a wrench into all his plans. You get a little thrill when you imagine the look on his face when he realizes the gig is up. Victory is so close you can taste it.

Agent Kim gets a call from his point man, everyone is in place.

Showtime.

******************************

“Is that consommé? It looks like consommé. What do you think, Agent Kim?”

Jungkook Jeon looks shaken for a moment when you step in front of the table where’s he’s just laid out a picture-perfect pair of starters. His guests, a nicely-dressed older couple, also look shaken as they glance nervously between you, Agent Kim, and their now permanently off-duty server.

He straightens to his full height.

The youthful roundness of the face you’ve stared at so long in that driver’s license picture is gone. You have no idea what this guy’s been eating for the past few years, but in place of that baby-faced kid is a man, tall and broad and muscular. Tattoos you can’t make out run across his hands, up his arms, and disappear into the white dress shirt he has rolled to the elbows. His hair is on the long side, pulled back, giving you an unobstructed view of what can only be described as a perfect face. Serious, literal perfection.

Good grief.

Somehow the little shit recovers from his shock in an instant. He smirks, despite his clear disadvantage.

“I gotta say, you look even better in person.”

Oh yeah? So do you.

You ignore his opening line.

“It’s time to come home, Mr. Jeon. Pay the piper and all that.”

He has the nerve to roll his eyes and your hand itches with the desire to punch him in his stupid fucking perfect face.

“Teamed up with some Korean suits, huh?” He gives Agent Kim the once-over and apparently finds him lacking.

“Mr. Jeon,” you feign a scandalized tone. “Just how do you think I was raised? It would be downright rude to barge into a sovereign country without an invitation. Besides, Agent Kim here has been an absolute pleasure.”

You could hear a pin drop inside this restaurant right now. Every knife and fork and glass has come to rest on the fine white linen on these tables. The guests are frozen in place, taking in the strange scene.

Dinner and a show tonight, guys.

Jungkook doesn’t move an inch. You’d half expected him to just walk up, accept his cuffs and get this show on the road. But no, apparently he’s in a talking mood.

“Tell me how you found me.”

You sigh. You’re not a pair of girlfriends catching up over coffee. You open your mouth to say just that, but Agent Kim speaks up.

“We had a source come through with some very specific information on you.”

“Oh, I think Agent Kim is being far too kind,” you counter. “What he means to say is that your Korean sucks. You see, Mr. Jeon, you may look like them,” you gesture at the restaurant full of guests, “but you sound like us. Let’s just say you stick out like a sore thumb here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement at the jab.

“I hated Korean school, you know.”

“It shows.”

He laughs.

Agent Kim clears his throat as if to remind you both that you’re not alone.

“Well this isn’t a social call, and I’m sure all these fine people would love to get back to their meals. So why don’t we finish this chat on the way back to the United States, Mr. Jeon?” you say, getting back to the task at hand.

Agent Kim signals his guys and they swoop in to put him in cuffs. He doesn’t resist, just holds out his hands and shoots you his most flirtatious smile.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Agent.”

On your way out the door, you glance over at the consommé and hope it’s supposed to be served cold.

**********************************

“What is a man who stole six million dollars doing waiting tables at a restaurant?” you muse out loud.

Jungkook Jeon is in the backseat of Agent Kim’s black SUV, looking out the window.

“I had to have some kind of story, right? Besides, I kind of liked it.”

“You didn’t get to spend the money,” you say.

“Not really,” he admits. “It’s much easier to fantasize about blowing millions of dollars than it is to actually do it.”

“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Jeon. What a shame.”

He leans forward in the backseat, hands cuffed in front of him.

“You know what would really be a shame, Agent? If I don’t get the chance to fuck you before you lock me up.”

A muscle twitches in Agent Kim’s jaw.

“Watch your mouth,” he warns, glaring into the rearview mirror. You immediately decide you like him a little stern. It’s pretty hot.

“Mr. Jeon, you and your dick will be free to do whatever you’d both like in about twenty years. That’s how this whole grand larceny and evasion thing works,” you say, ignoring the sensation that spreads across the back of your neck at his crass words.

He whistles.

“I’m really going to waste my best-looking years in prison.”

No kidding.

“Oh, don’t be too disappointed,” you say sweetly. “I hear there are a few advantages to having such a pretty face behind bars.”

You hear the clink of his cuffs and look into your rearview just in time to see him give you the finger.

*********************************

The government can be so cheap sometimes.

You’d have loved to pull right up to the tarmac at Incheon International, walk right onto a chartered plane like the Feds do in the movies. But alas, private flights are definitely not in the budget.

Instead, you have to settle for regular seats on a Korean Air flight. You’d been in touch with the airline ahead of time and they’d offered you and your team privacy in the back rows of the plane – complete with a curtain separator. You really couldn’t blame them for not wanting passengers to be greeted by a handcuffed man and his gun-toting babysitters.

Smart move all around.

Seating arrangements are decided, you and Jungkook on one side of the aisle, your two Marshals on the other. They’re both smart men, highly-skilled and boring as hell. You’d already had to suffer through their small talk on the fourteen-hour long flight here, and you’d be damned if you had to do it again on the way back.

“Are you going to let me have a drink?” Jungkook asks, as soon as you’re settled into your seats.

“Of course,” you reply, scrolling through a few emails on your phone. “What’s your favorite kind of juice?”

He snorts.

“It’s gonna be a long flight unless you play nice,” he warns.

“Mr. Jeon,” you sigh. “Shut up.”

He shakes his handcuffs.

“You could at least take these off,” he grumbles. “Not like I can walk off of a moving plane.”

“Nope,” you reply, affecting your best bored tone. You grab a magazine out of the seatback and pretend to leaf through it.

“So you want me to sit here – no phone, no headphones, no nothing – for fourteen hours?”

“Better to practice that ‘bored out of your mind’ routine sooner rather than later. I’m sure it’s gonna come in handy.”

You don’t look his way, but you can feel the glare he’s fixed on you and you have to fight the urge to smile.

******************************

The flight attendant who rolls a giant drink cart into your quiet section of this plane looks like a doll. Porcelain skin, huge eyes and the whitest smile you have ever seen.

Jungkook straightens in his seat immediately. He’s been pouting for the last hour but now he sees this dazzling young woman and his game face is back on.

“Hello,” he says, flashing her a smile.

Then he stops — seems to remember his audience — and resumes the exchange in Korean. You stare at him as he makes eyes at the flight attendant, working her with the confidence of a man who is not wearing handcuffs right now.

She blushes deeply at something he says before turning back to her cart to pour a Jack and Coke.

“Are you serious, Jeon?”

He smiles.

“You don’t hate me, right? Like, obviously I’ve pissed you off, but you don’t hate me. Because only a person who hated me would stop me from having a drink on my way to federal prison.”

You open your mouth to protest, but instead decide that he’s right. He’s a thief – not a killer for pete’s sake.

A super-hot, ridiculously charming, complete asshole of a thief who is definitely not getting under your skin by flirting with the flight attendant right now.

The porcelain doll turns back and hands him his cocktail and Jungkook winks at her. This man just accepted his drink with his hands in fucking handcuffs and this woman is blushing at him like he just asked for her number in a nightclub.

“Are you done?” you hiss.

“With what?” he asks innocently, cuffs clinking as he lifts the drink to his mouth.

“Eye-fucking the flight attendant.”

He feigns shock. “Are you – are you…jealous?”

You scoff and turn your attention back to your magazine.

He leans close.

“Don’t be jealous,” he says, blowing whiskey-scented breath into your ear. “I wanted you first. I’m only flirting with her because you’re really mean to me.”

He leans back and takes another sip of his drink.

There is something about this mischievous boy-man with the chiseled body and the smart mouth. He certainly has a charm. You’re certain he’s been able to use that charm to get out of more than a few sticky situations over the years.

“I wasn’t kidding you know,” he says. “About wanting to fuck you.”

He shakes the ice in his glass to show off that he’s already drained it and gives you another one of those self-assured smiles that’s really starting to piss you off. You drop your gaze back to your magazine.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you state simply, pretending to have a deep interest in some blurb about face masks.

“No? Are you sure about that?”

“You are mind-bogglingly arrogant for a man who is headed to prison for the next two decades,” you reply dryly.

“Probably headed to prison,” he corrects. “Innocent until proven guilty, due process and all that. Unless things have changed? I realize it’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

You snort.

“Okay fine, you’re right. I’m headed to prison for the next twenty years which is why it’s imperative that you fuck me now. Immediately. Anything else would be,” he gives a dramatic shake of his head, “Inhumane.”

This time you can’t help but laugh and one of the Marshals across the aisle gives you a disapproving look, like he’s been forced to chaperone a pair of giggling teenagers.

You clear your throat and look back down at your magazine, force the smile off your face.

“Argentina,” you say. “How did you get out of there before I got to you?”.

The flight attendant returns with another drink and another smile for him.

“You want something, I want something,” he says, taking a long sip. “Maybe we could work something out?”

“I’m not going to fuck you for information, Jeon. All of that will soon come out in the wash,” you sigh.

“Then fuck me for charity. For good will. Fuck me because it’s the least you can do since you’re blowing up my entire life right now.”

You roll your eyes.

“You blew up your life, you idiot. You’re the one who intercepted a wire transfer and stole six million bucks. You’ve already been fucked. You fucked yourself.”

He smiles wistfully for a moment.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

*******************************

You stop him at three drinks.

His eyes have taken on a soft quality and his entire energy is a bit more relaxed with some booze in his system. It’s hard, it’s really hard to ignore how hot this man is without even trying.

But when he tries? Then it’s damned near impossible.

You check your watch. You still have seven hours to go on this flight.

“Luck,” he says, suddenly.

“Excuse me?” you say, looking up from your magazine.

“You wanted to know how I got out of Argentina in time. I was gonna make up some fancy story about how I’d figured out you were on to me and beat the clock to get away but the truth is, I was just lucky. I’d already been there too long and I was getting restless. I was ready to go.”

Hmm. So the booze has made him talkative.

“Your landlord said we’d missed you by one day,” you counter.

“Yup,” he laughs, closing his eyes momentarily as if reliving the thrill of the chase. “I used to have a lot of luck, actually. Before I ran into you.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

“Fair enough,” you say and the two of you share a laugh. You open a bag of pretzels and offer him one. He begrudgingly accepts.

“Why did you take the money?”

He chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“Because I wanted to know if I could. I didn’t think I was gonna pull it off, but again, it was my luck. Once I figured out how to do it, I just did.”

“How remarkably stupid,” you breathe, a smile on your face. He smiles, too.

“Yeah, well. I said I was lucky, not smart.”

“Oh, but you are smart, Mr. Jeon, and don’t think you’ve convinced me otherwise. Your transcript from Stanford tells a very interesting story. What did your parents say when you dropped out at the top of your class and went to work at a gas station?”

The sarcastic back-and-forth screeches to a halt. For the first time, you see darkness pass over his face.

“Don’t ask me about my parents,” he says curtly. “I’ll tell you whatever else you want to know, but that shit is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and this time you mean it.

He shifts to his side, away from you, and looks out the window.

You sit quiet, thinking for a minute – but after a while you both fall asleep.

********************************************

You wake to Jungkook nudging you.

“Get up,” he says urgently. “I have to piss.”

You groan, trying to clear the fog from your brain and glance at your watch. Still four more hours to go on this flight.

“Like now,” he says, bouncing one leg to ward off the sensation.

You get up, stretch out, and wait for him to stand but then realize he’s waiting for you to help him since it’s an awkward fit in the seats with his handcuffs. Instead of making a snarky comment, you just offer your hand and a slight smile.

Very unlike you.

“Thanks,” he says, straightening out, stretching his legs. One of the Marshals raises an eyebrow at you.

“He has to use the bathroom,” you say, stilling the man with a raised hand when he makes to stand. “It’s alright, I need to stretch, too. I’ll walk him down there.”

The Marshal looks skeptically from Jungkook to you and back.

“It’s fine, Agent,” you say, a little annoyed. “It’s not like he can go anywhere, right?”

“Right,” Jungkook says, still bouncing that leg.

The Marshal gives you a look that makes clear he doesn’t approve, but he’s not going to stop you.

You walk behind Jungkook as he makes his way past the curtain, down the aisle and towards the bathroom. It’s a half-empty flight, and you’re glad for it when you see people staring at his handcuffs. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed on his behalf when you hear them whispering in Korean. At least you don’t know what they’re saying.

The firm set of Jungkook’s mouth makes you think he wishes that were the case for him, too.

“Just uh, give me a minute,” he says, when you reach the bathroom.

It turns out to be a lot longer than a minute.

You’re half tempted to bang on the door and demand to know why he’s taking so long. Maybe the Marshal was right to be suspicious of Jungkook. Maybe he figured out a way off this plane through the toilet.

You’re bouncing your own leg impatiently when he finally reappears.

“What took you so long?” you ask, annoyed.

“You ever try to take your pants and underwear off while handcuffed?” he asks. “You know what — never mind, don’t answer that. You’ll start giving me ideas.”

Ah. He’s back, then.

Part of you is a little relieved to hear his smart-ass mouth again. You feel a hell of a lot less guilty around this version of him.

“Listen, I did a little recon and it’s a tight fit, but there’s definitely enough room for us to fuck,” he says, face comically serious. “And we’re running out of time for you to pull the trigger, so what’s it going to be?”

“Ugh. You’re foul,” you say, pulling a face.

“But you kind of like it,” he shoots back.

He’s right, though. You kind of do.

***********************

Clearly you’ve lost your mind.

Pheromones have short-circuited all the portions of your brain that control logic, reason, and risk. That’s the only plausible explanation for why you are slumped into your seat right now, legs pressed together tight, imagining fucking Jungkook Jeon in an airplane bathroom.

Sympathy and curiosity and more than a little horniness are making for a strange mix. You reason to yourself — as if you are actually entertaining this madness — that he’s not a convicted felon, just an accused one. There’s gotta be a loophole in the FBI handbook somewhere.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Jungkook asks, leaning close — a smile playing over his lips.

“Shut up.”

“You are,” he whispers in a scandalized tone. “I mean with these on, I’m not going to be able to do my best work, obviously, but I’ve done more with less. Unless you want to take them off,” he says, rolling his wrists in the handcuffs.

“I already told you, I’m not taking those off,” you say sharply.

“Alright, alright. Keep it kinky. I can roll with that.”

”Shut up, Jeon.”

He gestures across his mouth like he’s zipping it shut and throwing away the key and you fight the urge to laugh.

“If I decided to fuck you, and I’m not saying I would,” you hiss, “I would have to stuff a sock into that smart mouth of yours just to not have to hear it.”

He laughs and his face looks so young and relaxed it takes your breath away a little.

“Make it your underwear and we have a deal,” he winks.

You pick up another magazine and get back to actively trying to ignore him and that annoying pulse between your legs.

*************************

Two hours left to Los Angeles.

You glance over at your guard dogs, who’ve both knocked out after a snack. One has a newspaper draped fully over his face, grandpa style.

You should have ordered a drink. You should have ordered six. That way, if you’re ever called to the carpet about the decision you’re about to make, you can blame it on alcohol-induced psychosis. Because the Marshals are asleep and you feel bad for Jungkook Jeon and he’s so hot you can barely think straight at this point. You take a deep breath and make a decision.

Fuck it.

You stand quietly, motioning to Jungkook with a finger over your lips. For a moment, his brows knit together in confusion but that look passes almost as quickly as it came. Then his entire face breaks out into a wide grin.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Shut up,” you whisper back, through gritted teeth.

You hold out your hand to help him to stand and when he grips it, he rubs his the pad of his thumb across your wrist. You try to ignore the sizzle of arousal he manages to drum up with that brief touch.

Quietly, you both walk past the curtain, past sleeping passengers and back to the clean but cramped bathroom where you are about to do the dumbest shit you have ever done.

You glance around at the passengers nearby and notice only one older man, eyes wide on the two of you. You shoot an excuse-me-sir-this-is-official-government-business look at him before following Jungkook into the tiny space.

You lock the door and turn to face him.

“Glad you finally came around,” he says, immediately backing you into the door. His mouth goes right for your neck and he pushes his entire body into yours in this tiny space. He is large and warm and he smells way better than he should after working a restaurant shift, being arrested, and then being jammed into a plane seat for hours.

His lips work up the column of your throat and his hands, still secured in front of him, push uselessly into the front of your lightweight wool dress. Shame, really, that you couldn’t take him out of these. You’d love to feel those hands right about now.

“I wasn’t kidding about keeping your mouth shut,” you manage to say, breathless at the feel of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The vibration of his laughter tickles the shell of your ear.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he says. “I just need to get my face under this dress.”

Your brain stutters for a moment, hung up on the mental image. He drops to his knees in front of you, lifts his hands to try and push up the front of the almost-too-tight garment but his handcuffs make it impossible. You graciously help him out, hiking the hem up your thighs. You’re about to work your underwear down, but he’s impatient, burying his face directly into the wet satin and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he groans, nosing the aching nub between your thighs. You’re glad he can’t see the way your mouth drops open when he licks out at the damp material, teasing you with the barest hint of friction.

“Help me out here,” he moans, and you do just that, sliding your panties down as best you can with the amount of space you’ve got.

At this angle, you can only get them down to your knees, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. He pushes his entire face into you, lips and teeth and tongue driving into you, working you with a fervor that makes your knees start to wobble. You grab a handful of his hair to steady yourself but it’s no use. Absently, you realize the tremors running up and down your body are rattling the door.

“Nice to know that mouth is good for more than just trash talk,” you tease on deep exhale. He laughs.

“Maybe some day you’ll get the chance to enjoy the full-service experience.”

“Probably not, Jeon,” you moan. “This is just a one-time favor, got it?”

All the blood in your brain has taken a dive into parts lower south and you marvel at how quickly your impending orgasm is coming on. But then, you’ve basically had about ten hours of foreplay up to this point, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

That damned door keeps rattling and you just know the little old man on the other side is probably staring it down. You’re not sure what it says about you that you think that’s kind of hilarious.

Your body jolts when Jungkook wraps his lips around your clit and sucks so hard you see stars. “You’re the one about to come on my face in an airplane bathroom,” he groans, licking obscenely between words. “So who’s doling out favors right now?”

Well, that does it.

The second he brings his lips and tongue back to your clit, you fall apart, gripping his hair so hard you’re certain it has to hurt. You pour all your energy into not screaming as your orgasm steamrolls you, and whatever energy you have left goes into trying to stay upright. Jungkook stays face-first in your heat, lapping up your release until the last tremors shake you and that goddamned door.

“Shit,” your voice is shaky, chest heaving when you finally make a sound.

“You are very, very fucking hot,” Jungkook says, breathless from where he sits on the floor. “Way too hot to be a Fed.”

You laugh.

“Well you are definitely too hot to be a criminal, but here we are, huh?”

Your eyes slide down to his glinting handcuffs, but they aren’t what’s catching your attention. Instead, your gaze heads right to the giant bulge straining against the front of his jeans. Turnabout is fair play, and you’re suddenly very eager to return the favor.

You help him stand and immediately seal your mouth to his, tasting yourself on his lips. Your fingers fumble past his restraints, underneath to where you can feel the button of his jeans and you undo it as fast as you can. He stops kissing you long enough to groan into your mouth when your hands slip into his boxers and your fingers wrap around his cock. He is hot and thick and hard in your hand. You squeeze around him, enjoying the way his hips jerk in response.

“Don’t tease,” he whines. “I’m gonna have to fantasize about this blowjob for the next twenty years.”

“I’d better make it memorable then,” you say, sinking down to your knees in the cramped space. You shove his jeans off his hips and look up at him as you gently push his boxers down and over his straining cock. His body is rock hard, lean muscle and defined lines running from his shapely legs up to his cuffed wrists and underneath that white shirt you’d love to peel off but can’t.

His head falls back the second your lips touch his swollen head. You tease it for a moment with a few quick licks, but decide this is really not the time to be dragging this out. The strangled “fuck” he whispers when you take him down fully is the sweetest and dirtiest thing you’ve heard in a while.

You manage to catch his gaze for a moment as you maintain a steady rhythm on his cock with your hands. His eyes are glassy with drinks and arousal, and you nearly have to slip a hand between your legs when his tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips.

He lifts and drops his handcuffs a couple of times before growling his frustration at not being able to put his fingers in your hair. You feel a faint throb of sympathy for him for a moment before reminding yourself that you literally have your mouth around his cock so frankly, things could be a lot worse for him than they are right now.

“You gotta stop,” he says, after a few minutes of the slow, wet torture. You release him with a soft pop and a confused expression.

“It’s your last blowjob for twenty years, Jeon. You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I have to fuck you. Please let me fuck you. It’s all I can think about,” he whines.

“You can’t,” you say firmly. “No condoms.”

He blows out a heavy breath like he’s thinking for a moment and there you are, on your knees in this tiny bathroom, confused as to what your next step should be.

“Look around,” he says suddenly.

“What?”

“Look – people fuck in airplane bathrooms all the time, right? It’s a thing. Maybe someone out there pulled some hero shit and is looking out for the next person.”

“This bathroom,” you say skeptically, “is the size of a goddamned shoebox, Jeon. You think we’re going to magically scrounge up a condom?”

“Just look,” he implores through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” you huff, leaning over to pop the cabinet under the sink open. You put one searching hand inside and pull out three sanitary pads that look like they were packaged in the 1970s.

He groans, frustrated.

“Hang on,” you say, jamming your hand back inside. Your fingertips brush up against something smooth and you fish it out, eyes wide with utter disbelief.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

You hold the condom packet up for him to inspect.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, cock jerking at the sight of it, like it knows he’s just hit the jackpot.

He laughs so hard for a moment you fear this entire encounter has gone entirely off track.

“My luck is back,” he declares triumphantly, finally. “Now, please hurry up and get on my dick.”

You’re shaking your head in disbelief the entire time you’re ripping the packet open, rolling it down Jungkook’s impossibly still-hard cock. He’s breathing hard, body tense with anticipation when you slide your heels off to take your underwear off completely.

“The heels,” he groans, watching as you slip your panties over your ankles. “Can you — you know…keep ‘em on?”

“Ugh, you are such a pervert,” you scold, slipping your feet back into the shoes and leaning back to line him up with your entrance. He surges forward and you moan at the stretch as he fills you entirely in one thrust.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, already rolling his hips frantically against you. “Shit, that’s incredible.”

And truthfully, it is. The ledge of the sink is biting into your ass with every thrust and you’re having to do most of the work given his handcuff situation but you really don’t even care because he still feels amazing like this.

He mouths uselessly at the wool covering your breasts because there’s no way to get to them. You nearly admonish him because he’ll leave crude wet spots on the fine material, but you decide against it.

“Oh, I bet you have amazing tits,” he groans, hips maintaining a steady rhythm. “Giving me something to look forward to for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, Jeon. And there won’t be a this time if you don’t hurry up already,” you shoot back.

He laughs, a little breathless from exertion. “I’m close, I promise. Fuck, you feel so good.”

You squeeze tighter around him, push harder back against him, angle your hips a bit more to ensure he’s going to the hilt with every thrust. The guttural sound he makes in response sends a shiver up your back.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps after a moment, mouth covering yours as his hips begin to stutter at the first ebbs of his release. Your ass is numb from the sink ledge at this point, legs tired from supporting your weight and his.

“So come then,” you tease, biting gently on the sensitive skin at his pulse point. He groans from deep inside his chest as he lets go – hips jerking as he pumps himself through it.

“Shit,” he groans, leaning on you with his full weight.

“You are crushing me Jeon,” you complain, pushing at his chest with both hands. He chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that. Balance is a little off at the moment.”

You open your mouth to shoot another sarcastic comment his way, but there is something about the way he is looking at you right now that stops you short.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable with the tiny glimpse into whatever that was.

“Well, as much as I’d love to ruminate on how good this was,” you say, shifting your dress back down and making a beeline for your underwear, “We’ve been in here an insane amount of time already. There’s probably a line outside the door.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little too quiet for your liking.

So you put yourself back together and help put him back together, too.

And strangely, when you open the door to leave there is no line. But that little old man is still watching, a look of astonishment on his face as you both walk past.

***********************************

“Listen, are you sitting down right now?”

You frown at the phone display in your office because any conversation that starts with an opening line like that is headed south.

“Uh…yeah. Why?”

“Hang on, I’m coming to your office.”

Seconds later, Agent Novak bursts through the door.

“So you haven’t seen it,” he says, rushing up to your desk.

“Seen what, Novak? Spit it out,” you say, frustrated already.

“Check your email,” he says, arms crossed over his chest. He looks fit to burst with some kind of excitement and your chest already feels a little tight at whatever it is he’s dying to show you.

You click into your email to find an urgent bulletin that you’d missed because you were working on a stack of papers on your desk, not your computer. The subject line makes your heart hammer.

URGENT MEMO: Fugitive Search, Jungkook Jeon

ATTACHED VIDEO FILE

“The guy just walked out of a federal courthouse like he was on an afternoon stroll. Had on a suit and everything,” Novak says, a note of awe in his voice. “Check out the video.”

Your mouth is already hanging open before you even click on the attached CCTV footage. A camera inside the courthouse shows Jungkook Jeon walk out of a bathroom in the front lobby, dressed like an attorney, not a defendant. His long hair is cut into a more professional style, his suit covers his tattoos and he looks entirely in place.

Novak is right – he walks so casually past the guards and other visitors that no one even thinks to stop him.

“Word is, court was on a lunch break and it looks like he had everything ready to go. Walked into a waiting Uber and vanished like smoke.”

You haven’t said a word since Novak walked in with this bombshell.

You just watch the CCTV footage over and over again in a loop, willing your brain to accept what your eyes can see clear as day.

This motherfucker.

Guess his luck really is back.

***************************

[slyttherins]

Unexpected flame (part 4) | Fred Weasley x Sirius Black’s daughter

Upon having reinstated the old Order of the Phoenix on Dumbledore's request, Remus went to the Weasley's to retrieve Juliet and take her home. Little did she know, he had brought with him a surprise for her.

Remus unlocked the door to Grimmauld Place and they both slipped in. Juliet grimace at the shrieking portrait of her grandmother on the entrance wall and went upstairs to store away her trunk and school stuff and unpack.

Once she was finished, she returned downstairs.

''Is there anything in particular that you'd like for dinner tonight?'' Remus asked as he walked to through the dining room and to the small kitchen, about to get started on dinner.

Juliet joined him. ''Nothing too big. I ate so much while at the Weasleys, I'm stuffed for days.'' She laughed, thinking back to all the yummy cookies, breads, soups and and other meals Molly had cooked during the past days. She was going to miss her cooking.

Remus chuckled. ''Molly always makes sure everyone is well fed.'' He went to the cupboards to see what was left and winced as pain shot through his right side and grabbed onto the table for support.

''Are you okay?'' she asked worriedly, rushing to his side in case he needed help.

Over the years, turning into a werewolf every months had done damages to Remus' body. As a teenagers, everything was fine. He was back on his feet the next day like nothing had happened. But, as he got older, his body had weakened and, sometimes, after full moons, his damn hip was giving him a hard time.

''I'm fine.'' Remus tried to conceal his pain and smiled at Juliet. ''My hip is just a bit weak today. Could you get me my walking stick? I think I've left it in the drawing room.''

Juliet nodded and went to retrieve the piece of wood. She walked into the drawing room, heading straight for the fireplace, knowing Remus had the a habit of leaving it there after reading a book, but froze in place when her grey eyes landed on the figure sitting on one of the couches: her father, Sirius Black.

Juliet almost had to pinch herself, afraid she was dreaming.

Sirius had changed physically since she had last seen him. His appearance was no longer unkempt. His hair was still long, but not matted anymore. He looked younger too, fuller around the face - healthier. He had also gotten rid of that ugly striped two-piece they gave prisoners at Azkaban and traded it for a velvet jacket and clean, dark button up. He looked...good.

Sirius stood and smiled warmly, confirming that she wasn't dreaming. Juliet ran up to him and Sirius wrapped her in his arms, finally reunited with his daughter. The embrace was tight, but neither minded. They needed this.

Without counting their brief encounter in 1994, Sirius had spent fourteen years without her. He had missed fourteen years of her life. She was a small baby when he got sentenced to Azkaban. Now, she was a beautiful young witch and nothing could ever make up for the time they had lost. All the important steps of her life he had missed such as her first words or getting her first wand at Ollivander's, getting sorted into Ravenclaw or even her first heartbreak.

Juliet released her hold and stepped back, her mind going to Remus almost immediately. ''Does Remus know you are here? I gotta go tell him. He'll be so happy-''

Before Sirius could answer her question, Remus stood in the doorway of the drawing room.

''Who do you think brought him here?'' Remus said, smiling at the two while leaning against the doorframe.

''So, the walking stick was just an excuse for me to come here?''

''No. I still need my walking stick.''

Getting the message, Juliet grabbed the walking stick and handed it to Remus. He thanked her.

''That hip is still giving you trouble, Moony?'' Sirius asked amusedly.

''Shut up.''

.

One week after Sirius' return, there was a knock at the door.

Juliet, Remus and Sirius were all in the drawing room, spending family time. Well, Juliet was playing wizard's chess against her father, who was still very good at the game despite having not played in years, and Remus was reading - unsurprisingly.

They didn't get a lot of visitors at Grimmauld Place - not to say any. Juliet reached for her wand, ready to use it despite being underage. Of age or not, she wasn't going to let anyone attack her family.

Sirius looked at Remus by the fireplace, who was flipping the page of his book. ''Mind getting it? We're busy, here.''

Although he was annoyed at Sirius' laziness, Remus answered the door and a chaos of familiar voices echoed, making Juliet frowned. She stood, abandoning the chess plate and saw the whole Weasley clan and their luggages.

''Ginny! Ron! What are you all doing here?'' She hugged Ginny in greetings.

The whole family seemed to have gotten a haircut - most likely by Molly herself. Behind Ron stood Fred, who's hair was much shorter - as were Ron and George's - and he looked so handsome. He gave her a flirty smile and Juliet forced her eyes away.

''Well, well. You brought the whole clan, Arthur,'' Sirius said with a soft laugh, emerging from the drawing room to greet and meet their guests.

Mr. Weasley nodded politely at the ex-prisoner. ''Sirius Black. Haven't seen you since-''

''-the First Wizarding War,'' he finished. ''And we're getting into another...'' He tried to smile, but his eyes went hazy and unfocussed as a wave of grim memories of said war invaded his thoughts. Thankfully, Remus was right beside him, having sensed what was happening, and put a hand on Sirius' back, the touch pulling him out of his head.

Remus smiled at the lot, addressing to everyone. ''Welcome all. You can pick any rooms you want except Sirius and Regulus' old rooms on the topmost floor. There's plenty enough for everyone.''

It was going to feel strange having so many people in the house, so used to be only us two - and Sirius now too. They didn't even make usage of all the rooms. Upstairs, only Juliet's and the master bedroom were occupied. About the latter, which used to be Walburga and Orion Black's bedroom, Sirius had happily turned it into his Remus' just to spite her. She might be dead, but Sirius still found a profound pleasure through breaking all her old rules and beliefs now that the house was his.

''Hermione should be joining us soon, too,'' Ron informed. ''She wants to spend a little more time with her parents since they are on work break. She said so in her letters.''

Fred snickered and Ron glared at him.

''Fred, George, you'll be rooming together. Ginny, Hermione will join you when she arrived, and Ron....you can pick a room, but don't think you'll stay alone for long. Bill should be coming from Egypt in the next weeks,'' Molly instructed to her kids before they could all run upstairs and pick rooms. ''And don't break anything! This isn't our house.''

.

''Wicked house you've got here, Black,'' Fred said, returning from putting his stuff away in a room, George coming down right behind.

''Gives a bit the creeps if you ask me,'' the other twin added, looking at the row of shrunken house-elf heads on plaque mounted on the stair wall.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place couldn't have been more different than the Burrow. It was grim, cold, antique and breathed of death and torture. Juliet and Remus had tried to make it more homey over the years, but the dark ambiance was so strong that it didn't make a difference.

''What's with that painting in the entrance?'' Ron asked, joining them, confused and traumatized by said painting. ''That woman keeps screaming bloody murder about blood-traitors being in her house.''

Juliet laughed, knowing exactly what Ron meant. ''That's my darling grandmother, Walburga Black. Lovely woman, isn't she?'' She had never met the woman, but according to everyone, she was a nightmare on two feet and an horrible mother.

The door next to the stairs opened and Sirius came out of the office him, Remus and Mr. Weasley had been locked in all afternoon. ''She's all bark no bites - her portrait form, that is. She was far more scary when she was alive. Now, you just have to shut the curtains and she shuts up. I wish there was that option for the real version...''

His presence had made Ron jump, a part of him still afraid of the wrongly-accused murderer. ''Our mom screams too, but only when she's mad. Then, she cooks.'' He frowned, thoroughly confused. ''Women are scary and weird.''

''She screams because you're idiots and do stupid things and always get in trouble,'' Ginny countered, coming down the stairs.

Juliet snickered. Ginny wasn't wrong. The twins were always pulling pranks and Ron always managed to get caught into trouble with Harry and Hermione at school. Their mother could never catch a break.

''Dinner's ready!'' came Molly's voice from the kitchen, interrupting their conversation.

''Wait till you see the tapestry in the drawing room. Pure artwork!'' Sirius told the boys as they walked to the kitchen.

.

Juliet sat at her desk, gliding her quil on the piece of parchment as she responded to Luna's last letter. She had meant to do it after her chess game with Sirius, but her house had been invaded by six redheads and she sort of forgot about the letter. Sorry Luna.

A soft knock on her door pulled her from her parchemin. She looked up and saw Fred in the doorway, dressed in a yellow striped pajamas.

''George's snoring. Can I come in?''

Juliet nodded.

''What were you doing?'' Fred sat on her bed, uninvited, and peered at Juliet's desk subtly.

''Writing to Luna,'' she replied, finishing her letter so she could send it in the morning.

''What do we have here?''

Juliet looked over her shoulder and saw Fred holding a stuffed black dog. She rose from her chair and tried to snatch the plushie from him, but Fred held it high and out of reach.

''Give it back!'' she demanded, jumping on Fred and causing the bottom of her shirt to expose the bottom of her stomach.

''You have a stuffed animal in your bed? How old are you? Four?'' he asked, laughing.

''My dad gave it to me when I was born. Don't break it, Fred,'' Juliet warned sternly.

She didn't mind him touching or knowing about the plushie, as long as he was being careful with it. For so long, that stuffed dog was the only thing she had from Sirius: a plushie that resemble a lot to her father's dog animagus form.

''I think it's cute. Do you sleep with it every nights too?'' he asked in a childish, teasing voice.

Juliet grimaced and snatched it from him, successfully this time. ''Don't say it like that.''

''George and I once turned Ron's plushie into a spider.''

''That's so mean. Poor Ron! Is this why he's so terrified of spiders?''

Fred laughed at his own prank, remembering the terror on his three years old brother's face. ''In my defence, he broke my toy broomstick.''

''Ah, that's a very valid reason.''

.

On the second night, Fred came to Juliet's door again. This time, they talked about the Order of the Phoenix.

''Mom doesn't want George and I to join the re-estated Order. She says we're too young and it's dangerous, but we want to help, we want to fight. We're of age, it should be our decision.''

''Molly is a bit of an overprotective mother, but with reasons. She's seen what he can do - the Dark Lord. Both her brothers were murdered by Death Eaters during the first war. I think she's afraid something will happen to you.''

Fred frowned. ''Bill and Charlie have joined. Is she not scared for them too?''

''I'm sure she is, parents are always worried for their children, but they've left home long ago, I don't think she has any power over their decisions anymore,'' Juliet responded with a chuckle. They were also more experimented wizards, but she didn't dare going there.

''Do they tell you anything? Remus and your father.''

''Some, but that's because they don't want me to be clueless or unfit to defend myself. I'm not part of the Order though. I'm only fifteen. I can't even practice magic outside school.''

A grin spread on Fred's face. ''I can!'' he withdrew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at Juliet's desk, watching the books pile itself into one neat stack.

She raised an eyebrow at him. ''Was that your most impressive spell, Freddie?''

''I wasn't trying to impress you.'' Fred scoffed. ''If I were, I would've...''

''Which spell would you use to impress me, Weasley?'' Juliet asked, waiting expectantly.

He pursed his lips in deep thinking. Then, fireworks sprouted from his wand, exploding in a loud noise that echoed in Juliet's bedroom. Her eyes went wide in horror while Fred was laughing.

''Why did you do that? Do you want to attract attention to my room? If my father barges in here and sees you, you're dead.''

Sirius hadn't been present in her life for long, but Juliet knew there was no way he would allow a boy in her room. Remus wouldn't either, but he wouldn't harm Fred.

''I thought you liked fireworks.''

''Not in my bedroom at eleven at night, dimwit!'' Juliet hissed, grabbing Fred's wand and confiscating it to prevent him from making more fireworks.

''How will I impress you without my wand now?''

Juliet shrugged. ''Not my problem. Figure it out.''

Wandless magic was a higher difficult level and required great skills - and also often went wrong. Juliet was curious to see what Fred would do.

''Can't think of anything?'' she asked after a few minutes, raising an eyebrow.

Fred's lips curled. ''I don't need magic to impress you.''

Juliet frowned in confusion.

Beside her, Fred lowered his head and cupped her jaw with one hand to bring their lips together, closing the space between them. Juliet's breath halted at the unexpected kiss, thoroughly surprised. What? According to Ginny, Ron had a crush on her, not Fred. But her initial surprise was quickly put aside as she kissed Fred back, taking a quick liking and finding herself wanting more.

Reciprocating her wants, Fred's strong hands tangled in Juliet's dark hair before moving down and gripping her waist to bring her closer to his body, while hers grabbed onto his neck and forced the kiss to deepen.

Her train of thoughts was a mess, but Juliet let it be, giving in to her desires and teenage hormones instead.

The redhead smirked into the kiss, the fervor which Juliet was kissing him back letting him know that he did the right thing. He pulled back shortly, pressing their foreheads together. ''Have I successfully impressed you?'' he asked with a smug smile, his voice low with a tinge of cockyness.

''Less talking, more kissing.'' Fred laughed and Juliet pushed him back near the pillows and swung a leg over him in a straddling position, kissing the smile off of his face.

.

When Juliet woke up, the bed was empty. She was used to waking up alone, but after last night, Juliet had hoped Fred would be here. She hadn't taken him for the type to sneak out of bed, but maybe he was an early riser and was just tired of waiting for her to wake up.

She slipped on a robe and went downstairs, secretly hoping Molly had made pancakes. They were the best.

''Look who decided to finally join us,'' George said with a suspicious smirk as she joined them for breakfast, leaning against the kitchen counter while sipping his morning tea.

Juliet ignored George's comment and sat beside Ginny. Did he know? Had Fred told him about the kiss?

''Where's everyone?'' Juliet asked, seeing none of the adults around the table.

''Locked in the drawing room. They have a floo call with Dumbledore this morning,''  Ginny replied. ''Mum made pancakes, but Ron ate the lasts of them.'' She glared at her brother.

''I was hungry!'' Ron defended, still working on his last bites.

''They were for Juliet.''

''It's okay, Gin. I'll eat cereals.'' Juliet grabbed the box and made herself a bowl.

''So...where were you last night Freddie? You said you'd use the loo but never returned. Did you get lost on the way back?'' George asked, making Juliet to drop her spoon, thankfully missing the bowl filled with cereal and milk, causing a loud clink to echo around the suddenly quiet kitchen.

From across the table, Fred narrowed his eyes at his twin. ''George...''

''I know the house is huge, but you surely know to count to three. Our room is on the third floor, not second.''

Juliet's cheeks went pink with embarrassment. He knew. Had he heard them? Now that would be even more embarrassing.

Ron bursted laughing. ''On the second night. I knew it!'' He held his hand out to George, claiming his bet. ''You owe me five sickles.''

''I don't have five sickles.''

''You took a bet with money you didn't have?'' George shrugged, unbothered and Ron sighed. ''Why do I always get scammed?!''

''You getting scammed is the last thing you should be worrying about. You took bets on us?! You’re lucky I can’t use magic outside school,'' Juliet exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at Ron and George. 

Much like when Molly scolded them, Ron gulped. Why were women so terrifying?

Fred watched Juliet with endearment as she scolded his brothers, calling them out on their gambling. He liked that girl.

[chilling-seavey]

ABM Daniel taking the girls (or any of them) to their school play and just being the most supportive dad ever known ++ 🥺 making sure he gets front row and cheering the loudest to let them know he’s there 🥺

I can just imagine him being the parent all the other parents gush over & complimenting his daughter’s performance and he’s so proud

Stop I actually love this because it’s so true to him!! Here’s him being a supportive dad for all three girls!!

Clementine

The audience watched the stage like a tennis match, the points going from side to side between the teams from the two different elementary schools. It wasn’t terribly thrilling to watch eight twelve-year-olds discuss if zoos are unfair to the animals held captive, but the city-wide semi-finals were not to be taken lightly. Being only seventh-graders, the teams worked together to form their arguments to either prove or disprove the topic depending on what side the judges assigned them, but Clementine always liked to take charge and her fellow team members didn’t seem to mind.

Sitting in the front row – of course – was her family; parents and two sisters, and they watched as she stood up to say her part, spewing out facts a mile a minute to the opposing team. Florence fed six-year-old Lucy slices of melon to keep her somewhat entertained while Daniel was leaning forward in the plastic gymnasium chair with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, eyebrows furrowed up to the stage as his eldest finished her tangent.

“In conclusion, although zoos must improve their kindness to the animals to keep them safe, these exhibits are perfect ways for students and kids and families to learn more about biology and the world and should be kept around for next generations to visit.”

The audience applauded and Clementine sent a proud smile to the direction of her family behind the bright lights of the stage and she sat herself back down, folding her hands together on the tabletop in front of her. The judges took a moment to assess both sides of the argument and the room fell into silence as they waited for the results.

“If she doesn’t win, this thing is rigged.” Daniel muttered to his wife. Florence only smiled at him and ran her hand down his back.

The judges took to the centre of the stage with the microphone in hand, a second judge holding the debate team trophy for the winning school with four others for the winnings students to take home.

“The winner of the Toronto District School Board Elementary Debate Team Competition is; Market Lane Elementary.”

You best bet Daniel was the first one out of his seat to applaud, cheering the loudest over the rest of the parents and Clementine just beamed as she and the rest of her team went up to collect their trophies.

“That’s my girl!” Daniel shouted over the applause, “Show ‘em how it’s done, Clemmie!”

The teams shook hands and then the lights in the gymnasium rose again and Clementine bounded right down the steps of the stage with the trophy in hand. She was beaming and jumped right into Daniel’s waiting arms and he lifted her right up off the ground.

“Oh my gosh, you did great, angel!” he praised, “We’re so proud of you!”

“So proud of you! You sounded so grown up on that stage!” Florence gushed, petting Clementine’s neat blonde hair that was tied in two identical braids over her shoulders.

Clementine only grinned wider, pressing her cheek right up to Daniel’s from her place in his arms, her arms wrapped around his shoulders snugly, “Just gotta throw their facts back at them.”

“And you certainly did.” Daniel smiled, pressing a kiss to her head before setting her back on her feet. “Go thank your teacher, okay?”

“Kay!” Clementine skipped off to her teammates and coach.

Florence and Daniel got the youngest two ready to head out while they waited and another family from the opposing school approached them.

“Pardon me, but I must say that your daughter is an incredible debater.” the mother said kindly, “I didn’t mind our boy losing out to such a quick-fired little girl…she really knew her stuff.”

“Oh, thank you.” Florence smiled politely, cracking a bit of a joke, “We have no clue where she gets it from honestly.”

“I speak from experience; she could be an incredible lawyer one day. You must be so proud.”

“We are. She’s our treasure, that’s for sure.” Daniel beamed with nothing but pride, his smile only growing as Clementine rushed back over to them.

She wrapped her arm around his back and glanced up at him, “Can we go to McDonald’s for dinner, Daddy? To celebrate?”

Daniel tugged gently at one of her braids, “Anything for you, baby.”

Penelope

The kindergarten classroom was packed with parents along the back wall, the children sitting on the colourful carpet in preparation for their show-and-tell day where they had a chance to stand up and talk about one of their little projects. Daniel took the morning off work and everything, dressed up in a nice little button-up for the important occasion and let his five-year-old daughter direct him to her chair in the classroom. Florence sat next to him, giggling softly at how he looked with all 6’1” of him crammed into a tiny kindergarten chair with his knees almost by his ears.

Penelope sat amongst her peers, legs criss-cross-applesauce and her hands folded sweetly in her lap. She kept glancing back at her parents as the other kids went up for their turns in alphabetical order by last name, her blue eyes nearly full of worry as if she was expecting them to not be there when she turned around again. But Daniel sent her a smile every time she looked back at them just to reassure her.

Soon, her name was called by her teacher to come up to the front of the classroom and talk about her painting she had done. Penelope sat frozen in place as everyone looked at her and she nearly tried to fold in on herself.

“Come on up, Penelope, it’s your turn!” the teacher encouraged.

Without a look back, Penelope scrambled up from the carpet and made a beeline right to her father, throwing herself at him and hiding her face in his chest. The other parents’ ‘awe’d out loud as Daniel scooped up his daughter onto his lap and held her close, her little hands clinging onto the front of his button-up shirt. Daniel’s heart could have completely burst right then and there.

He pet a hand over her brown hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before whispering down to her, “Want Daddy to come up there with you?”

Penelope sniffled and nodded, peering up at him with tears in her light blue eyes.

“Okay, bug.” Daniel carefully got up from the tiny chair, set his daughter on her feet again, and took her hand. They walked up to the front of the classroom together and the teacher handed Penelope her artwork. Daniel crouched down beside her and Penelope stayed right close to him as she turned her paper around to show the crowded room.

She blinked, not saying a word.

“What’s your picture about, Penelope?” the teacher encouraged.

Daniel set a soft hand on his daughter’s back and simply his presence was enough to calm her nerves.

“I…I painted mountains.” Penelope said as strongly as she could, glancing down at her artwork in her hands. “And the sky. And…and trees.”

“What colours did you use for your painting, Penelope?” the teacher asked.

Penelope took a small shaky inhale, “Green…blue…and grey. And white. And…and yellow.”

“Very good! It’s a beautiful painting!” the teacher started the applause and the class and the group of parents joined in.

Penelope smiled bashfully, her chubby cheeks dusted in a shy pink blush, and Daniel pressed a kiss right there.

“That’s my girl.” Daniel praised sweetly from beside her. He stood up and led her back to their seat and Penelope bounded over proudly to her mother, shoving her painting into Florence’s hands.

“Wow, Penny, this is so good.” Florence beamed, reaching to caress her daughter’s pink cheek as she admired the messy painting. “So proud of you, my brave little girl.”

Daniel sat back down and pulled Penelope onto his lap, draping his arms around her to cuddle her close to his chest and he peppered kisses to the top of her head, “Our perfect little artist.”

Her very first art show, going without fault thanks to the presence of her father. And he went to every single one thereafter.

Lucy

“Excuse me…Pardon me…Sorry.” Daniel shuffled down the auditorium row, a bouquet of flowers in one arm and Penelope’s hand in his other. He was determined to get to the seats front and centre, rushing to snag the last few available before the auditorium filled up, squeezing past a few families that had already claimed their seats.

Penelope and Clementine followed behind him, the eldest with her nose in the programme to find her youngest sister’s name among the lists. Daniel sat the girls down before taking a seat himself, making sure to claim the fourth with the bouquet of flowers to save a spot for Florence who was helping Lucy get ready backstage.

“Found her!” Clementine grinned, thrusting over the small booklet to show her father and her sister the thin printed line, ‘Lucy Seavey’ under the list of seven-year-old tap dancers and again under the ballerinas.

Daniel grinned at the formality of it just as the lights started to dim.

“Mommy’s gonna miss it.” Penelope whispered.

“She’ll be out in time to see Lucy.” Daniel assured her softly as the toddler groups started their dances up on the stage.

Sure enough, after a few songs, Florence was shuffling down the row in the darkened auditorium to her seat beside Daniel and he moved the flowers for her.

“She’s up next.” Florence whispered excitedly. “She looks so cute in her costume.”

Finally, the current song ended and the younger dancers rushed off the stage in exchange for the seven-year-old group. As the lights rose again, Lucy could be seen front and centre in her purple leotard and purple sequin skirt that matched her friends’, her hands on her hips and toe pointed in perfect position as the song started.

Daniel’s smile seemed to rise with the music volume and soon the group of seven-year-olds were click-clacking across the wooden stage, Lucy’s wide performing grin and sparkle sprayed tied blonde hair standing out amongst the almost clumsier girls with her. Her big move that she had been practicing was her splits and – as expected – nailed them with excellent precision and Daniel couldn’t help but let out a cheer and a little clap, making Florence giggle and lean into him adoringly.

“Daddy, shh.” Penelope scolded softly from his other side.

The dance concluded and the girls on stage hit their final poses with wide grins and the crowd applauded, Daniel standing right up in a single standing ovation as the lights dropped again. Florence pulled him back down into his seat as the girls rushed backstage again.

“Gotta go for costume change.” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

Daniel grabbed her wrist before she could slink off, “Tell her she was so good. And I love her. And she was incredible.”

“You’re going to see her in twenty minutes.” Florence giggled, kissing his cheek before shuffling back down the aisle.

Daniel watched the other dance groups impatiently, waiting for Florence to return which would mean Lucy’s second performance would be starting. She returned within ten minutes and fell back into her seat with a sigh. Daniel slipped his fingers into his wife’s and pulled their intertwined hands up to kiss her soft skin just as the lights dimmed again and it was time for the second performance.

Honestly, as much as Lucy rocked her fast paced routines, Daniel loved her dancing ballet the most. She always looked so graceful and pretty and happy and Daniel’s heart could just soar with pride over his youngest.

By the time the soft song came to a conclusion and Lucy fell into her final pose ever so gently, Daniel nearly felt tears in his eyes as he applauded the loudest out of the entire audience and he was sure he caught a small smile tugging at the corner of Lucy’s serious expression as the lights dimmed again.

The girls were allowed to go find their families after their last performance and Lucy shuffled her way down the row at intermission, still in her blue ballet leotard and white tutu with her bag slung over her shoulder and a huge grin plastered on her face.

“There’s our girl.” Florence smiled.

“Oh, Princess, you were incredible.” Daniel gushed, bending right down to engulf her in a hug before passing over her congratulatory flowers.

“Thank you!” Lucy beamed, taking a sniff of her fresh cut flowers as she sat herself down on his lap, hugging the bouquet to her chest.

“The best out of the whole troupe.” Daniel boasted softly for only their little group to hear.

Lucy giggled bashfully, “I know…a few of the other girls kept messing up their steps.”

“Not our tiny dancer.” Daniel pressed a kiss to her head, getting a bit of her layers of sparkly hairspray on his lips in the process.

“You cheered so loud, Daddy.” Lucy said, taking her packed intermission snack of cheese and crackers from Florence.

“Too loud.” Penelope added.

“Get used to it.” Clementine finished sassily, reaching over Penelope to steal a cracker from her youngest sister.