#i think he can't help but look for a little comfort from his dad because he feels so so guilty and confused and upset

[mstrchu]

can someone else please please look at this set of images before i go insane

#nezha reborn #LOOK AT HIM he is literally just... a kid...... looking for some comfort from his dad............ #it's about to be 0 days since our last nonsensical overly emotional post about li yunxiang #it was never that lyx didn't care about what his father thought or didn't want for his approval because he does want it. he does care. #it was just something he accepted he wouldn't have as long as he continue to choose to do what he thought was the right thing #and the 'right thing' was important enough to him to give up on his dad's support #which says something about how important the 'right thing' is to lyx #and up till now it was fine because it affected no one but him #(and if you think about it it is kind of a very immature and idealistic mindset #because if he had gotten caught doing his little smuggling and property destruction it 100% would have affected his family #but i like that i think it's part of his character.. anyway....) #but now his refusal to do what his dad wanted him to do - get a normal job and keep his head down - is like. actively hurting his family #and altho it was the right thing and he couldn't have predicted that ao bing would go completely nuclear #or that the de group would send assassins after him because of the whole reincarnation business #you could say that kasha and li jinxiang's injuries are a direct result of him refusing to just roll over and sell ao bing his motorcycle #(which i think is exactly what ljx was gonna say before he got bodied by that monster truck lol) #and in this moment when he has effectively just put 2 of the people closest to him in the hospital #i think he can't help but look for a little comfort from his dad because he feels so so guilty and confused and upset #but he gets that door shut in his face and he's reminded that he had chosen to not have that #that he had made choices that led to this being the reality of his relationship with his dad. and he is supposed to be ok with that #and then he falls back on his anger and the moment is sort of over but like #bro... at this point li yunxiang has no one bro.... #L + ratio + kasha and brother in the hospital + dad can't even look at you + dead mom + separated from extended family when you fled the wa #+ no close friends your own age #and it makes me sad because lyx must have been pretty close to his dad when he was little #i think this + the moment where he's outside the door listening to his dad talk #just fuels the miasma of guilt #guilt over his own actions. guilt over nezha's actions. questioning if he is or ever was making the right choices #but also it's not about any of that it's just about how huge and wet his eyes look here amen

[ultravioletrayz]

soccer dad!miguel who despises that shithead #10 for being too rough with his precious baby girl on the field. He can't wait until Gabi's old enough for the all girl's team, but until then, Miguel would have to cope with watching the boys on the opposition get away with completely barreling through his little angel.

soccer dad!miguel who yells over all the soccer moms on the sideline, making sure his booming praise reaches Gabriela and his childishly cruel berating throws off whoever's trying to tackle her as she dribbles the ball up the field.

soccer dad!miguel who loses his absolute shit when Gabi is elbowed to the ground by that #10 kid. His fatherly instincts consume him and without thinking, he storms onto the field cursing at the ref and yelling all sorts of profanities in both Spanish and English. His veins bulge in his biceps and head as he rushes over to console Gabriela, but he swallows his outrage momentarily to crouch down on the grass.

soccer dad!miguel who carries himself with such tenderness when checking to make sure his daughter isn't injured, sighing heavily with relief when he's met with a reassuring smile from the mildly frazzled little girl. That soft demeanour completely transforms into pure protectiveness and anger as he stands up and turns to glare at #10, his tall, tan, muscular body towering over the little boy.

"¿Qué demonios fue eso? Just because you want to win doesn’t mean you have to push and shove. That kind of behaviour is for losers. Weren’t you raised to treat girls with respect?" He scolds, his voice dripping with judgement as his sharp red eyes bore into the poor kid.

soccer dad!miguel who can't help but scoff, unimpressed, when the little boy starts crying, his stature and harsh words obviously scaring the kid as he sniffles and looks back and forth between Gabriela and Miguel apologetically, but he's unable to find his words in the presence of such an intimidating grown up. Miguel’s attention shifts to the young woman rushing onto the field towards #10, a scowl on his face.

“Watch your mouth, asshole. He’s just a kid playing a game, it’s not like he was trying to hurt her!” You yell at the tall, stoic man. You reach out to comfort the little boy, wiping away his tears.

soccer dad!miguel who hasn’t seen such a beautiful girl in his entire life. His ex-wife was okay, but their relationship turned nasty, all remnants of feelings completely soiled by her tendency to lie and cheat. He finds himself checking you out, sharp red eyes lingering on your curves before he feels Gabi hugging his leg and he’s immediately snapped back into his state of disdain and rage.

“Your kid has been roughing my daughter up the whole damn day. Doesn’t seem like a fun game to me.” Miguel counters, patting Gabriela’s head as he glares at you.

“For starters, he’s not my kid. And also, she’s not even hurt! I’ll admit, it wasn’t a clean tackle, but you’re overreacting and you’re making an innocent kid cry.” You scoff, finding this grown man’s behaviour unbelievable as your nephew cowers behind your leg, leaving you and Miguel staring each other down.

soccer dad!miguel who’s aware that he can be a bit overprotective of Gabriela at times, and begrudgingly decides to back down. Especially when you’re looking at him with those beautiful eyes. He’d let this random woman do anything to him as long as she’s looking at him with those eyes.

“Shit… look, I may have come off more aggressive than I intended. I didn’t mean to scare your…?” Miguel begins, shrugging his shoulders as he looks down at Gabi and then back up at you.

“Nephew.”

“Your nephew. He just needs to watch out not to do any damage to the other players, especially the girls.” Miguel says softly, trying to be the bigger person for Gabriela’s sake (and also because he wants to distract himself from how hot it was when you told him off)

soccer dad!miguel who forgets about being nice and friendly when you shrug him off with a frustrated “whatever” and walk off hand-in-hand with your nephew. That’s when he looks around in confusion to see that the game had ended and everyone had left the field. Miguel picks Gabi up and kisses the side of her head, although he's still seething at how that #10 got off unscathed and you didn't even attempt to acknowledge his attempts at an apology for losing his cool. He spends the entire afternoon silently dreading the next time the two teams have a game together, because he'll have to endure the sight of that little shit and his aunty with the fat ass.

NEXT PART

#ultravioletrayz #soccer dad!miggy #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #miguel spiderman

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Pregnant!Reader Headcanons

As much as dear Lucy and reader enjoyed themselves in this headcanon post, I can't help but imagine such activities might lead to Charlie become a big sister, so I put some headcanons together for such a situation. I know that Sinners can't get pregnant as canon currently stands, so I typically employ either the Rules of Fanfic or I imagine reader is a living human that ended up in Hell through magic shenanigans (will elaborate with a prompt post once I've got the spoons), though of course you're free to imagine them as Hellborn or whatever suits your fancy!

Warnings: Pregnancy Mention, Implied Smut

- He's insistent you see the Royal Physician as soon as you start experiencing symptoms, but he's not at all prepared for the diagnosis you bring back, and he might need you to repeat it a few dozen times. You're pregnant? With a baby? And it's his? He put a baby in you? You're going to have his baby? An actual baby? He's going to be a dad again?! So goes the conversation for a good ten or so minutes, and suffice to say he's far from calm once the news finally does sink in. Given that the two of you had assumed that an angel and a mortal couldn't reproduce, this is more than an unexpected surprise, and Lucifer knows all too well how much of a fuss this will create from Hell's lowest ring all the way up to Heaven. That's to say nothing of how Charlie might take the news...

- Once the initial panic fades, after a solid hour or so, he gathers himself and focuses on setting a course of action. A very important decision needs to be made. He says it's up to you, but upon being asked what he'd like to do, the King of Hell surprises himself and answers without hesitation that he'd love to have this baby with you. He's surprised because he knows better than anyone that it will be challenging, but he can't deny how much he wants it regardless. Having Charlie was the greatest thing he'd ever done, and the thought of another little bundle makes his heart swell in ways he can barely describe, but ultimately he'll support whatever decision you make. Carrying a half-Archangel is no easy feat... Hearing that you want the same and intend to carry through is enough to make him lift you clear off the ground in a spinning airborne embrace, wings fluttering like a hummingbird as he breaks out into a celebratory musical number or two. He can't wait to be a dad all over again!

- If you thought he pampered you before, you were wrong. He doubles the amount of servants at your call, ensures there's always a physician available at a moment's notice, and hires a full team of chefs to cook whatever you might crave at any hour of the day. From beginning to end, he doesn't want you to want for anything, and the man knows a thing or two about spoiling, and he goes all out to ensure you're surrounded by comfort at all times. That's to say nothing of his own personal dedication to more or less worshiping your existence. Even the tiniest indication of pain or discomfort has him leaping to your assistance. Backrub? Footrub? Full body massage? You name it, he's quite happy to provide. If it wasn't such a cliche he'd be rather happy to feed you grapes from a golden platter. His efforts are borne from the deep sense of pride he feels every time he looks at you and thinks of how incredible it is that he's with you, that you're carrying his child, and that the two of you are bringing something quite wonderful and unique into existence. Said pride fully extends to the public view, where he doesn't hesitate to show you off and humbly brag to anyone that will listen about the news.

- You'll also find that as protective as he was before, he doesn't even hesitate to get his fangs out now, not that many in Hell are stupid enough to mess with the King's beloved. He expects you to be treated with the highest levels of respect, and if he can't accompany you somewhere, he'll insist on an armed escort to keep you safe. This fear isn't completely unfounded, as there are some willing to risk everything for an upper hand on Lucifer, but he's got ample experience keeping the opportunists at bay. He did the same when Lilith was expecting Charlie.

- Speaking of Charlie, the only thing that gives him any kind of hesitation is his fear that she might take the news poorly. Though she took your relationship well, what if she isn't thrilled about a younger sibling? With their relationship so recently repaired, he fears she might worry about being replaced or pushed aside, and he doesn't know how to reassure her that nothing will ever make him love her less. Thankfully, with her boundless kindness and eternally upbeat personality, the Princess of Hell puts his worries to rest as soon as she gets the news. In fact, she reacts much the same way her father did; a massive hug and a delighted musical number, albeit with far more happy sobbing. She promises through tears that she'll be the best big sister Hell has ever seen, and that she simply can't wait.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer imagine #lucifer x reader #lucifer fluff #lucifer headcanons #hazbin x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #pregnancy #charlie morningstar

[norrisleclercf1]

Mini Sainz

Pairing: Dad!Carlos Sainz x Reader x Son Santi

Rating: PG

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnant reader, reader feels big because she’s so pregnant, dad carlos is adorable, fluff

Words: 2.7K

A/N: if anyone knows why I named their son, great minds think alike

"I'm a whale." You moan, annoyed, tired, just exhausted all around.

"You're not a whale. You're pregnant." Lando snickers as he walks past you, making sure you are as comfortable as someone who could be 9 months pregnant.

"Lando, I'm serious. I can't even see my own feet or anything." You whine, stabbing your fingers into your side to stop the sharp pain you feel, disappearing when you put pressure on it.

"Maybe, you shouldn't come to the Grand Prix." He ponders but stops seeing your harsh glare.

"It's his home race. Besides, I want to be around him." You huff, fixing the fan next to you.

9 months pregnant, and in Spain, it was not a good mix. It wasn't hot, just fantastic, but to you, it felt horrible. Never would you be pregnant in the spring or summer again. This was the last time.

"Yes. I know Y/n. You'll see him soon." Lando comforts you, pushing the fan closer as he watches some sign of improvement.

"Uncle Lando?" A small voice pulls Lando's attention from his best friend to his godson.

"Santiago? You should be taking your nap." Lando moves to the 5-year-old and picks him up with ease.

"Mama in pain?" He asks, resting his head in the croak of his uncle's neck, worried about his Mama.

"A little bit, buddy. But, it'll be okay when we see your Papa." The smile that covers the boy's face melts Lando making him even consider for a second having kids.

"Mama doesn't like being away from Papa. Should we call?" Lando snorts, knowing damn well that you didn't like your husband away from you this far in your pregnancy.

"No, we're about to leave anyways. Let's get you dressed, okay?" He asks the little boy nodding as Lando takes him to get dressed.

Lando returns with your first child, and you snort, seeing bright orange.

"Carlos is going to kill you." You giggle, seeing Santiago wearing a Mclaren shirt.

"Ehh, he owes me anyways. I'm taking care of a toddler and a very pissed-off pregnant you. I get the kid wearing my shirt." Lando shrugs. If you weren't so tired, you'd smack Lando into the next century.

"Help me up, you dick." You whisper, knowing Santiago is in his repeat everything he hears phase.

With ease, Lando moves beside you and helps you up, resting a hand on your back and stomach. Feeling a little thump against his hand, Lando smiles; the kid was going to be a trip.

"Alright, Sainz's, let's go!" Santiago squeals and runs to you but stops short, knowing you can't pick him up.

"Uncle Lando! Up!" Santiago declares, making the Mclaren driver smile, and you roll your eyes.

Arriving at the paddock, you wince, feeling that sharp pain again, but take a deep breath, and it goes away again. You knew you should be worried about those pains, but the baby wasn't due till the end of the month, so you still had a couple weeks before they were expected.

"Why does my family look like yours?" Santiago squeals and wiggles out of Lando's arms and rushes his father.

"Papa!" He screams, Carlos scooping him up before the little one can fall.

People liked to call Lando the second husband because he was always helping you. But he was your childhood friend, Carlos's best friend, and the godfather to your son. He was family.

"Ooh. Easy big guy." Carlos coddles, kissing his son's cheek before immediately handing him off to Lando and at your side.

"Corazón? Are you okay?" Carlos asks, seeing the discomfort on your face. But the moment he touches you, it fades away as you lean into your husband's body.

"Now I am." Carlos moves to support you on your side and walks you down to the Ferrari hospitality building.

"Why is my angel wearing a Mclaren shirt?" You snort loudly, seeing Lando chase the little boy, both matching.

"Lando dressed him. Besides, give him this one. He's staying in Spain to help us when the baby arrives." You touch Carlos's cheek, who just nods but already planning on how to switch the shirts later.

Getting to the building, you notice Santi isn't next to Lando and feel that panic, but it slams shut when you see a familiar brunette holding your son.

"No, Uncle Charles! Uncle Lando said we'd match today." Your son's cheeks puffed out; in that way, he pouts.

"You're a son of a Ferrari driver. You don't want to hurt your Papa's feelings, right?" He asks, which gets a slap on the back of his head from Lando.

"Don't manipulate the boy, you douche." While Charles lets out a string of curses, you watch the exchange, Carlos, paying no mind to keep an eye on you.

"Yeah, douche." The laughs stop as you all face a red-faced Santiago, who looks ready to cry.

"Santiago Sainz Vazquez de Castro." Wincing at Carlos's harsh tone, your son's eyes grow wide and watery.

"Apologize to Uncle Charles right now! You don't use that type of language. Do you understand me?" Santiago's bottom lip starts to wobble, and your heart breaks for your baby. Santi looked up to his father so much and rarely got in trouble with him. So when he did, this would make Santi cry.

"I'm sorry," Santi whispers, hugging Charles, who chuckles and pats the boy's back.

"It's okay, Santi. I know you didn't mean it." Charles kisses his head and sits down, dragging Lando away so Carlos can talk to his son.

Crouching down, you watch as Carlos turns Santi to look at him. They're twins, if anyone wanted to contest the father of your child, put Carlos and his side by side, and you've got a mini-adult Carlos before you.

"Santiago, why are you in trouble?" Carlos asks as Santi sniffles, wiping away his tears with his little hands.

"Because I said a bad thing to Uncle Charles." You try not to cry too. Fucking hormones. Santi rarely cried, so seeing his little face, red and tear-stained, you wanted to hold him close.

"And what do we not do?" Carlos sighs, holding Santi's tiny hands in his own.

"Say bad things that can hurt people." He mumbles, looking his father in the eyes. Carlos's tough father act breaks automatically seeing his little boy's face.

"Come here." Carlos pulls Santi into a hug and stands up, rubbing his back as Santi wraps his arms and legs around his father as best as he can.

"Let's get some cold air for your Mama, yeah?" Carlos asks, following you into the cold air.

"This is heaven." You moan, reaching a private area and sitting down as slowly as possible.

"Can we get a fan?" Carlos asks one of the workers, who eyes you and nods, going down to hunt a fan for you.

"Mama," Santiago whines, climbs onto the couch and puts his head on your stomach.

"Yeah, baby?" Fingers pushing back those gorgeous Sainz's locks, so happy he got Carlos's eyes and hair.

"Is baby being bad?" He asks, touching your stomach while Carlos sets up the fan to blow right on you.

"No. I'm just.....big." You groan, trying to stop the flash of pain on your face, but Carlos sees it anyways.

"You're not big. Stand up." Carlos helps you stand and moves to stand behind you.

Wrapping his arms below your belly, he starts to lift, and you practically melt right then and there as the weight is lifted off.

"If I could marry you again, I would." You moan, making Carlos smile, loving the pleasure that covers your face.

"Do me a favor?" You ask, Carlos nodding as he would do anything you'd ask.

"Of course, Y/n. What is it? Is it the baby? Is it time?" Mind running faster than he can keep up, but you cover his hands under your belly, soothing him instantly.

"Take Santiago with you." Carlos lets your stomach down slowly before facing you, confused as hell.

"Carlos, I can't give him the attention he needs right now. When the baby comes, we won't be able to pay much attention in the beginning. Besides, he idolizes you, Carlos. Take him to the garage, and let him sit on the pit wall. Let him run wild. Give him the best day of his life." You plead to look at your son, who watches the TV and squeals, seeing Uncle Charles beside his car.

"Santi? Want to spend the day with me?" Carlos asks; without an answer, Santiago takes off but stops and runs back. Getting on his tiptoes, he kisses your stomach and whines holding his arms up. Carlos lifts him up, and Santi kisses you before kicking his feet and taking off.

"Bye, Mama! Bye, baby! Be good!" He yells and takes off, Carlos cussing and rushing after his son.

Carlos catches up and swoops the boy up, making him squeal in delight as passersby smile at the father and son.

"Where to first, mi vida?" Carlos asks, tickling the boy, who laughs more.

"There!" Seeing the bright green that catches his eye, knowing who he wants to see.

"Want to go there?" He settles Santi in his arms and walks into the Aston Martin garage.

"Abeulo Fernando!" All the mechanics turn their heads, some laugh seeing who screamed that, as Fernando groans, hating being called that by the mini Sainz.

"Are you ever going to tell your son to stop calling me that?" Fernando asks, accepting Santi into his arms, who lays his head on his shoulder.

"No, because we all know it pisses you off." Carlos chuckles and watches how relaxed his son is.

"Where's Y/n? Has she had the baby already?" Before Carlos can answer, Santi does for his father.

"The baby is being mean to Mama. Mama said she's a whale. Uncle Lando said she wasn't but has a tummy like a whale Abeulo Fernando. Why is that?" The boy leaves the two Spaniards sputtering as he rattles off what he had heard this morning.

"Well...your little sibling is growing. Your Mama had the same tummy when you were there. But she doesn't have a whale tummy." Fernando laughs at Carlos's disbelief.

"Don't ever say she has a whale tummy. Okay, Santi?" Carlos presses, knowing the absolute mess the hormones would make you if your angel called you a whale.

"Abeulo Fernando? Are you going to win today? That'd be awesome if you did!" Lance laughs, walks past them, and claps Carlos's shoulder.

"Wearing a Mclaren shirt and wants Fernando to win. Are we sure that he's yours?" Lance laughs, making Carlos rolls his eyes and take Santi back.

"Okay, yeah, we're leaving." Carlos groans as Fernando and Lance make fun of him on the way out.

"Papa, you'd win anyways. It'd be cool for Abeulo Fernando to get the smaller win." Santi explains, Carlos promising he wouldn't cry hearing those words.

"Thank you, mi vida. Want to see Uncle Lando or Uncle Pierre?" He asks and sees his baby's eyes brighten.

"Uncle Pierre." Shocked at his choice, having thought by his reaction he'd pick Lando.

Walking closer to the paddock, Santi wiggles wanting to let down. "Okay, but hold my hand, mi vida." He urges, but Santi shakes his head no.

"I'm a big boy." He whines, and Carlos thinks this over and sighs, putting his hand on his back and leading him to Alpine.

"Well...look who is here." Pierre laughs and goes to pick up Santi like always, but the young boy steps away, confusing the French men.

"Uncle Pierre......is Kika here?" The young boy asks, face red and looking away.

"Umm.....yeah, she's over there." He points out the model watching the mechanics work on the car.

Santi takes off and tugs on Kika's pant leg, getting her attention as she melts, seeing Santi's smiling face, and picks him up.

"He picked you over Lando. If he was here, I thought he'd want to play with you and Charles. Guess...I was completely off." Carlos explains as Pierre laughs.

"Little man is growing up. Wanted to talk to Kika more than me. Actually....proud of him." Carlos glared, hating that his son already has a crush at age 5.

"Don't encourage this. Y/n will kill you." He watches Santi laugh as Kika walks around the garage and onto the pit wall so Santi can see the track.

"How is she? Charles and Lando said she looks.....ready." Pierre chooses his word carefully as Carlos is one to be very protective when it comes to you being pregnant.

"She should've stayed home, but everyone is here, so she's at the hospitality and can be somewhat comfortable," Carlos explains but stops the conversation when Santi comes running up with a smiling Kika behind him.

"Papa! Papa! Can we? Can we?" He asks as Kika pats his head and explains how she said that Pierre and her could take Santi for a couple nights when the baby arrives.

"Mi Vida, I thought you wanted to stay with Uncle Lando? It'll hurt his feelings if you change your mind." Santi ponders on it and looks at Kika.

"But...Papa.....I'm always with Uncle Lando." He whines, and Kika giggles while Pierre rolls his eyes.

"Okay, let me talk to Mama about it, and if. And I mean if she's okay with it. Uncle Pierre and Kika stay at the house with you and Uncle Lando?" He asks

Santi squeals and hugs his Papa, Kika's legs, then hugs Pierre, who smiles.

"Am I going to have to be worried about a 5-year-old stealing you now?" He asks Kika, who rolls her eyes and slaps his chest.

"Stop, he's adorable, besides it's hard to say no to those big brown eyes." Kika shrugs as Santi talks with a mechanic. Carlos checks his watch and curses, seeing he's got to get ready for the 3rd practice, and walks up to Santi, picking him up.

"Come on, Santi, we've got to go. Say, thank you to everyone." Santi yells his thanks as Carlos walks to the Ferrari garage.

Santi watched the world around him; Carlos knew his nap time was getting close, so he tried to keep the little guy awake until they reached the garage. Walking in, everyone cheers, seeing their youngest member, who just waves and buries himself into his Papa's chest.

"Alright, Mi Vida, I have to get ready now. But, I'm gonna give you to Uncle Charles. Think you can stay awake until I come back?" He asks, hoping he doesn't fall asleep.

"Yes, m big boy Papa." He whines from the movement of his Uncle Charles grabbing him.

"Try to keep him awake. If he falls asleep on you, you won't be able to escape." Carlos rushes and heads to get ready as Charles and Santi stare at each other.

"Wanna sit in my car?" He asks, seeing new energy come to the boy as he nods. Charles smiles and gently places the boy in the number 16 Ferrari as he crouches down, explaining everything.

Carlos returns and stops watching his boy be so happy to be here.

"Uncle Charles.....are Mama and Papa going to be busy with the new baby?" Carlos moves out of sight to hear what they're talking about.

"Yes, but that's why Uncle Lando, Uncle Pierre, Kika, and maybe I will be here in Spain to be with you," Charles explains, knowing Santi was brilliant and telling the truth was better for him.

"Is Papa going to be doing this with the baby too?" Santi asks, lowering his head.

"What do you mean?" Charles asks, confused about what the toddler is thinking.

"Papa and I do the races, but with the new baby.....they'll take my place," Santi whispers, and Carlos swears his heart stops as Charles takes a deep breath, unsure how to answer.

"Santi...you're me...you're Mi Vida. I promise to keep doing this with you when the new baby comes. No one..will take that away from us." Carlos promises as Santi stares at his Papa and nods his head.

"Papa?" Santi asks, making Carlos hum as he pats Charles back, who stands up next to his teammate.

"Can I take a nap now?" Carlos laughs and leans over, picking up his son.

"Yeah, Santi. You can nap now." Santi nods and lays his head on his father's shoulder before his cheeks puff out, and he falls asleep.

"He's asleep on you, man," Charles whispers, but Carlos waves him off.

"Let me enjoy this, man. He's growing up. Oh, did I tell you that he's got a crush on Kika?" Carlos asks as Charles busts out laughing. The two Ferrari drivers talking as Carlos holds his little baby close, soaking in this moment.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #formula one #f1 2023 #carlos sainz imagine #ferrari carlos #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz jr one shot #carlos sainz junior #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 ferrari #f1 fic #f1 fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz one shot #dad!carlos sainz #f1!dad

[kisses4choso]

#DAD?

SYNOPSIS: when you first meet their adoptive kids CHARACTERS: s. gojo & s. geto WARNINGS: mildly suggestive (geto), ages 19/18 [according to the manga] NOTE: pretend geto didn't commit genocide... he brought the girls back to jujutsu tech and lived happily ever after!

when GOJO first introduces megumi and tsumiki to you, you're a bit conflicted. the first thing you think? yeah, gojo was right in being scared of a kid that's a third of his age; poor megumi looked identical to his father. the second? they're so young, they're actual kids. gojo is so young. you are so young.

"nice to meet you. i've heard lots about you," is the only thing you can offer to the children other than a warm smile. the boy stares at you before looking off to the side, and his sister nudges him, smiling at you politely.

"us too," the little girl says, "professor gojo says you're pretty a lot," she stumbles over her words a bit before deciding on something, "and you make really good cup ramen."

"professor gojo said that?" you look up at him from where you're squatting on the ground, tickled by the funny nickname, and you're happy to see a cute smile dancing across his face. "then i'll have to treat you to some ramen soon."

she nods, still flashing her smile, although it's missing a few teeth, and megumi remains looking off to the side.

"are you gonna be in charge of us too?" he suddenly asks, his blunt words a contrast to his little voice.

satoru answers for you, squatting down to meet the boy's eyes (probably, it's hard to see where he's looking with those glasses), "we're still figuring that out, kid. are ya tryna get rid of me or somethin'?"

megumi mumbles something under his breath, and whatever it is, it earns him a pointed sideways glance from his sister.

"wanna say that louder?" he challenges the boy, but megumi responds by sticking his tongue out at him. gojo mimics his actions, just like a boy would. because that's exactly what he is, a teenage boy.

"thought so! alright, you two, can you give us adults a second to talk? we gotta talk about..." he trails off, turning his head to face you directly, "taxes, or somethin'. we'll be in my room. be on your best behavior please, we have a guest."

"pinky promise," tsumiki says, kissing her thumb and holding out her hand. surprise washes over gojo's features, but he quickly composes himself, mirroring tsumiki and allowing her to link her pinky to his. she presses her thumb to his, effectively sealing the promise.

cute, he thinks, how hard would it be for megumi to be like that?

gojo then decisively sticks his pinky out to megumi, but the boy gives him a weary look, and he frowns. "well, holler if ya need me!"

and with that, he's rushing you off to his room, closing his door behind him, lowering his voice, and tugging off his glasses, "so? whaddya think?"

"about?" you stall, finding comfort in his bed as if it were your own. you feel his eyes on you, you always do, but this time it's that look. he's analyzing your every move, your flow of energy, your darting eyes; you're not sure if it would be more effective to acknowledge it or let it go. he stands in front of you, so it's hard to ignore, but you persist.

he hesitates before speaking, a rare occasion, "remember how i said i wanna be a teacher at tech?" he doesn't wait for your answer, "i think, if i try hard enough, i can start teaching right now. the boy has lots of potential, and i want to develop that. can't let it be wasted with the z'enins."

you move your lips, but he anticipates your words, "i know, i'm not even twenty yet," he brushes a hand through his hair, "i don't want his power to be a burden to him. he wants to protect his sister. i can help him."

"i know you can, satoru. it's what you want to do, and i know above everything else, you're stubborn," you finally meet his gaze, and you find the troubled twist of his lips. "but will you have time?"

"i've got enough money..." he says, deflating at your unconvinced sigh, "i'll find a way."

seeing him so caught up in this tugs on your heartstrings a little, and the slight pout on his lips doesn't do much to help your heartache. you say what you were scared to from the moment he mentioned the two children, "i can help."

for the second time that evening, shock laces itself onto his face. you look a little startled by your own words. the reality of being responsible for raising two children on top of developing megumi's cursed technique against the wishes of arguably the most powerful sorcerer clan... it was heavy.

"ya don't gotta, i just wanted to know if i'm crazy or not for adopting two young kids at my age."

"you're always a little crazy, no? and i want to," you say, and a beat of silence passes between the two of you, the six eyes user taking a particularly sharp breath.

"you're okay with raising those two brats? with me?" he dismisses your first comment, the last question a little quieter.

he takes a step closer to you and crosses his fingers in hopes you'd say yes. a selfish thought, but it means another reason to convince you to move in with him. another reason to spend nights and days together. yet another reason to love you.

"yes, professor, but with all these missions, you'll practically be an absent father... figure," you reach out to him, pulling him closer by his waistband.

he smiles, slumping his weight in the spot right next to you as if his king bed couldn't hold him anywhere else, "not much different than what they're used to."

"satoru," you bat his shoulder, and he laughs, dimples on display. you don't miss the questions hidden in his eyes, and you wish he'd lean over just a little for you, maybe let him steal a kiss or two as a remedy. you continue, "we turned out all right, i'm sure they'll be okay with you."

"with us," he corrects, "and i turned out amazing, by the way."

he turns to you, attention completely fixed on the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, at his expense, but the laugh is for him. uncharacteristic emotion comes over him for a moment, but his gaze is as steady as always, and in the moment he's sure he'd done something in his past life right, "but i hope they learn more from you."

"mimiko, nanako, come say hi," GETO calls to the girls as he opens his door for you. you were at his house as a 'surprise' he said, so you felt the necessity to get the two girls a few gifts.

he moves aside to allow you in, and immediately you're aware of the unusual mess in his living room. the building blocks, dolls, hair bows, plushies, toy cars, and puzzles make it look like a daycare.

his lips meet your forehead, "hey, you didn't have to get them anything. they're spoiled."

"i see that," you laugh, grabbing onto his freshly manicured hand as he leads you to set your things down on the coffee table.

his hair is messily braided as well, and you take out your phone to get a picture, but your attention is caught by two pairs of thundering steps coming toward you.

"mister geto! look what we drew for..." nanako quickly stops herself, her feet screeching to a halt, her sister bumps into her back.

mimiko yelps, not expecting the blonde to halt so suddenly. she peeks over her, searching the living room and finding you sitting on the couch. her part of the couch.

"what a cute," geto hesitates, turning away from you and toward the hall, "cat?"

nanako pouts, casting her gaze toward her feet, "it's supposed to be you with kitty ears."

geto quickly clears his throat, "i know, i was just kiddin'."

he glances back at you, the remenants of a smile in his eyes. he definitely did not know.

"who the heck's that?" the blonde says, leaning to the side to get a good look at you. "i thought you were gonna bring the guy with the weird eyes."

"nanako," geto's sharp eyes are not visible to you, but you know he's giving her a disapproving look with how she tenses. "come here, please. this is who i was talking about earlier when you weren't paying attention."

the two girls share eye contact (although the meaning of it is known only to them) and reluctantly step forward, the brunette behind the blonde.

the dynamic was obvious to you, nanako was the loud one, and mimiko was the shy one. it was cute, the way they held each other's hand upon coming closer from where they stood in the hall.

suguru attempts to push the two little girls toward you once they reach him, but they both hide behind him. your heart warms at the sight; nanako's looking up at geto, hugging his leg while mimiko squishes the side of her face against his other leg and looks at you.

you break the ice by introducing yourself, a little discouraged when they simply blink at you.

time for the trick up your sleeve.

"i brought these here for you. they're from kyoto, and i heard you wanted to try them."

their eyes instantly brighten, and they both look up at geto, waiting for his permission. he smiles at them, giving them both a quick nod, and they run toward the long couch.

"excuse me, can we open them?" mimiko asks, and you think that even if you tried, you couldn't find it in your heart to deny the girl anything.

you hand each of them a sparkly gift bag, "of course, hon. they're for you."

geto follows closely behind them as they wander over to the couch, opting to sit down on the floor right in front of you, between both of the girls.

mimiko opens her bag carefully, removes the tissue papers one by one, and gasps when she sees what's at the bottom. she turns to nanako and her mess, holding up her snacks. "look!"

they were giggling, trading a few of their gifts, and having fun with the extra plushies you had thrown in there.

"what do we say?" geto interrupts them while they're lost in their own world, but they don't seem bothered in the least.

"thank you so much!" they both exclaim at the same time, mimiko a little louder than normal.

you turn to geto as they wander into the kitchen to excitedly eat their snacks, "they're great girls. i can't believe those people would..."

geto winces, holding your hand delicately, "i know. but they're doing good so far. i think you made a good impression, they're not so quick to trust people."

you smile, a newfound hope inside you, "i can tell they adore you. you'd make a good dad, suguru."

you lean down to give him a quick kiss, but something changes in his expression, and he holds your chin in his hand, stopping you from meeting his lips. he smiles at your frown, a teasing lilt in his voice when he speaks, "don't say things like that."

"or what?" you know just how to get under his skin, and although your original comment wasn't meant to bother him, it's given you an opening.

his pupils are dilated; you can almost guess what he's about to say, or perhaps do, and--

"hi, do you wanna try?" nanako suddenly speaks, and you both jump, so caught up in your own world, that you hadn't noticed the girls' presence.

"thank you," you say, taking a chip from the bag she held to you, and geto does the same. mimiko offers you gummy bears, and you take one as well.

still a little startled, geto mouths a 'sorry' to you, and you merely shake your head, enjoying the sweet gummy.

he'd no longer have the benefit of having you all to himself in his house anymore; having no privacy was almost guaranteed with kids like mimiko and nanako.

but he thinks it might be worth it, seeing the way the girls smile as you compliment their hairdos, and watching you laugh as they take credit for his. he glances at your hands as you cover your eyes for a game of hide and seek, eyes caught on the glint of the promise ring on your index finger.

no, he didn't mind it one bit.

haruta's better than me, if nanami was that close to me...

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #geto x reader #dad gojo #dad geto #mimiko and nanako #megumi and tsumiki #suguru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #geto x you #jjk imagines

[aemvnd]

Crybaby!reader being cradled by rafe!! She just needs her daddy, he’s tough but soft at times and he just reassures her, calming her down from her little tantrum 🤍🤍🤍

𝓇.cameron. ┆ lovin' on you.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ won't be able to write much today… goin' shoppin' for my new apartment. 💐 here's a lil' somethin' for the soft girlies . <3

"c'mon baby, stop your cryin'—you're gonna make yourself sick," he sighs softly, cradling you in his lap, keeping a firm pressure around you as he gently rocks you, and you feel so safe in his thick, strong and protective arms, so loved.

"i.. 'm sorry, daddy, jus' can't help it sometimes," you mewl with a cute pout, another stream of fresh tears falling down your cheeks, making you bury your face into the crook of rafe's warm neck, and he sighs again, pressing a gentle, loving kiss to the top of your head, getting a whiff of those feminine hair products that he loves on you, something sweet and vanilla scented, just utterly and perfectly you.

"just needed dad, huh?" rafe chuckles softly, giving his head a slight shake to himself in amusement, and he can still hear you sniffling softly, trying to be quiet and not upset him, which he hates, because he's been trying to work on you and your shyness, always so nervous to upset him in someway, somehow.

it probably has something to do with your daddy issues, rafe thinks, slightly smug and malicious, but that's why he was the man who stepped up—not just as your man, and not just as your boyfriend, but as someone you can always look up to, someone you can go to for guidance, someone who'll be firm with you and punish you if need be.

and it was too easy, becoming that someone you desperately needed as he manipulated his way into your life.

however, rafe wasn't the bad guy—no, he knew you needed him, needed that extra love and attention, always so needy and whiny when you didn't get it, but now that rafe was here, with you, now that he has you under his control, you're the most perfect, docile little angel, all submissive and obedient and so, so sweet it's almost sickening.

"don't worry, dollface," rafe croons sweetly, before gently lifting your face up with two light little love-taps to your jaw, catching your attention as you instantly look and perk up, locking eyes with your handsome boyfriend.

and fuck, rafe thinks you're so pretty when you're crying.

"no more crying, ya' hear me?" rafe commands, though he keeps his voice light and gentle, but still firm, knowing he doesn't truly need to keep you in check, you know his rules already, and you've always been rafe's good girl.

sweetly, almost tenderly, rafe carefully wipes away the flowing tears down your flushed cheeks, already knowing you'll wanna redo your makeup once you see that your mascara and eyeliner had run down and created quite the mess—but again, rafe still thinks you're the prettiest girl in the world.

"sorry again, daddy—jus' love you 'nd missed you," you answer meekly, eyes watery and bloodshot, and your pouty lips swollen slightly from you always anxiously biting them, another bad habit that rafe is trying to work on getting you to stop.

"don't worry 'bout it, baby—daddy's here now, yea?" rafe hums softly, pressing a few soft, loving kisses all over your face, making you giggle sweetly and playfully roll your doe-like, misty eyes, which makes rafe smile.

"how about we put on a film and stay in for the rest of the night, yeah?" rafe offers politely, not minding watching one of your stupid romantic movies if it makes you smile, and get you outta this terrible mood of 'missing him' as you always like to complain.

but again, rafe finds that he doesn't mind his girl missing him, not one bit—in fact, he enjoys that fact a bit too much, but he would never admit it aloud, not even if he had a gun to his head.

"okay!" you chirp happily, already over your little tantrum from minutes ago, snuggling even deeper into rafe's lap as you both get comfortable on his bed, looking for one of your favorite movies to watch.

afterwards, once you decide on the film 'the notebook', rafe can't help but release a small, little grin to himself, because he already knows in just the next ten minutes, you'll be hysterically crying all over again, and he'll have to comfort you as you watch noah and allie's love story.

and if rafe already secretly knew that was the film you were gonna pick, and that 'the notebook' was one of your favorite romance films of all time... well, he didn't mind that too much, either.

#⠀࣪⠀ׅ ♡ ⠀࣪𓂃 #‧ ₊˚ bambi's works 𓂃ෆ #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey prompt #drew starkey drabble #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fluff #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx fic #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n

[carolmunson]

almost fell into that hole in your life.

orange colored sky set list.

older!modern!eddie x thirties!reader summary: ficlet. you haven't been acting like yourself these days and eddie notices. unfortunately for you, eddie can't help but wanna make you feel better. tw: implied depressed reader, alcohol mention. implied praise kink if you squint really hard? still 18+ tho! songspiration: black balloon | the goo goo dolls

Eddie doesn't like it when things are too quiet, it makes him hear the static in his brain -- gets too aware. He can hear his eyes blink, the sound of his breath, so when you've been clammed up on the couch all night on your phone he can't help but start to make noise.

"Babe," he says from the kitchen, "Do you want me to make quesadillas or something? I have some shredded chicken I wanted to use up."

"Hm," you respond. He barely hears it, padding his way over in his 'house slides' that you like to tease him about. Such an old man.

"I was thinking quesadillas and I can make some margs, would you like that?" he asks, standing at the end of the couch. The way you're laying on your side, eyes glazed over, is enough to let him know that you haven't heard a word he's said for the last hour. Just scrolling with with a glassy look, numbing yourself ten times over.

"Peach," he says, albiet little sharply, "Are you listening to me?"

"Hmm, no way, that's wild," you respond, a zombie in his midst -- replying just to reply, to fake like you're hearing him. Eddie bites his tongue and then his cheeks to sting the frustration out.

"Hey," he says again, ringed hand reaching down to squeeze your chenille blanket covered thigh, "You hearin' me?"

You finally look up and see his face and the world around you comes into view. In your trance, the world outside had become night, the TV was off, you weren't even sure how much time had passed since you plopped yourself under Eddie's blanket on the sectional in his livingroom.

"Yeah," you squeak out, heart racing because you can tell he's disappointed, "Y-yeah I'm hearing you."

"Then what did I just say, huh?" he doesn't sound mad, or accusatory. Worse, he sounds disheartened. And even worse of worse, he sounds worried.

"Um...it was about um, you were asking about food," you try to answer confidently, and you know it was food adjacent, but you aren't sure.

"Do you want me to make quesadillas?" he asks again, "I have some chicken I wanna use up and I got all the stuff for 'em."

"Yeah," you nod, "Yeah that sounds nice."

"You wanna come help me?" he asks, "I can make us some drinks while we work."

"Uh," you start, that familiar pull tugging in your chest -- laying down feels good, getting lost back in your phone will feel better. It's so comfortable to hide under his chenille blanket and tune out. It feels better like that.

"Please?" You hesitate again, but you're not fast enough to redirect Eddie's attention, and it's then that he catches it in your eyes. The ache. He comes around the the front of the couch to sit in the divot of your thighs and chest, hand moving from your thigh to your shoulder. "What's goin' on?" his low voice twangs at your chest.

"Nothing," you urge, but your voice is too high and so are your eye brows. He doesn't believe you for a second.

"I don't like when you lie to me, peach," he confesses, "Don't lie to me, please."

"Psh, okay dad," you tease, trying to lighten the mood while you get up.

"I'm not kidding with you," Eddie's timbre keeps you in place, "I'm not playing around, babe. What's goin' on with you? You've been -- y'know -- you've been really I dunno -- inward this week. I'm missin' you."

"I'm okay," you urge again, but now you're too quiet. You don't mean it. He raises his brows and blinks at you in disbelief.

"I promise, I'm okay," you continue, "I'll be okay. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're not making a great case for yourself." "Well then it's a good thing I'm not a lawyer," you joke again. He doesn't buy it.

"You're sad, baby," he tells you, reaching up to hold your cheek in his palm, "Why can't you just tell me? It's okay that you're sad."

"I'm not!" you try to say cheerily again, but the words get stuck in yout throat -- eyes stinging with wetness after hours of being open.

"I'm not sad," you say breathlessly, choking on the lie while a tear sneaks its way onto your lash line.

"Oh, sugar," he coos while you try to tread the water of your feelings -- flailing to keep your head above the pain in your chest.

"No, no, I'm okay -- I'm fine!" but you're starting to cry now and it kills him. Before you know it, he's made his way under the chenille blanket with you, nose to nose.

"Hey, hey, it's okay if you're not fine," he coaches you through your deep breaths while you try to guide yourself out of a full blown sob, "You can tell me. I'm here. I'm here, okay?"

"I'm sorry," your voice becoming a wraith of itself.

"Don't be sorry," he presses himself against you, enough so that you can feel the pressure of him and the pressure of the back of the couch on both sides, "Just talk to me."

"I don't..." you shrug, "I don't have anything to say."

"Just sad?" he asks, you feel an arm snake around you between your back and the the couch, pressing your chest to his. You nod, it feels pathetic, but you're cornered now and there's no use in arguing with someone who was born to win every argument he's ever had.

"Yeah," you mumble weakly, "Yeah, I'm sad. Think I'm more than sad."

He nods, his demeanor softening to something gentle -- heart reaching out to yours with caution like you'll run away, "Yeah, honey I can tell. You really haven't been actin' like yourself these days."

"I just don't wanna bother you," you confess, the brick coming off your chest, "I always get over it, I don't wanna like -- bum you out if it's not like...if it's not a big deal."

"I don't care if it's a big deal or a little deal," his heart bleeds for you while he speaks, "I don't care if you're gonna be over it in fiteen minutes. When you're hurtin' like this -- babe you gotta tell me. You gotta talk to me. Or else how're we gonna make this work?"

"It's just not important."

Eddie can tell that you mean it when you say it; he's never felt more frustrated with whoever convinced you that this was true.

"It's super important to me," he encourages, "Your shit is like, top of my list babe."

"Top of your list?" you crack a weak smile.

"You think the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I go to sleep isn't on the top of my priority list?"

"Okay, well now you're doing to much, Ed," your face scrunches in the way that he loves, not letting you totally get out of his hold yet while you try to squirm away.

"Hey, look at me, before you get up," he cups your cheek again, gently, your eyes meeting his brown ones. Eddie leans in for a kiss, a soft reminder that he's not going anywhere anytime soon -- not that you'd want him to. Not with lips like that.

When you break away, his nose nuzzles yours, coasting up to press another gentle kiss on the center of your forehead. Long and intentional, warm enough to get you to close your eyes.

"It's gonna be okay," he assures, "It's okay if you're not, but -- I gotcha until you're feelin' better, hm?"

You nod, sniffling snottily and wiping your wet cheek.

"I am ordering us quesadillas," he whispers, stealing another kiss from you, "Because if you're going to rot on my couch, I'm gonna make you rot next to me."

"We're rotting!" you cheer half heartedly, pouting when he gets up to get his phone for take out. When he finishes, he holds his hand out and you sheepishly put your hand in his.

Eddie curls bounce when he shakes his head, "Peach, you know what I'm asking for."

"No," you frown, "I need it to rot."

"Peach...please?" it's more of a warning than a question, and you slide your phone into his hand. He doesn't check it, but he knows that if you don't have it 'locked away' in his sweats pocket for a while you'll just end up zoning out the same way you did before.

"Thanks, sugar," he smirks, "You're so good."

Your cheeks burn at the priase, rolling your eyes with a grin that cracks against your features, "Don't. We're not doing anything sexy."

"Yeah I know," he shrugs innocently, finding his way next to you again, "But when you smile like that, who am I to deny you a lil' somethin'?"

He dims the lights in the open space from the remote on the coffee table, settling in while you make yourself comfortable in his side. Eddie keeps you close on nights like this, when he knows you're on unsteady ground. You're still quiet, but the start of another Twilight Zone marathon keeps you more alert than before. With steady breaths you start to relax in what he'd deem a healthier way than before, and the quiet doesn't make his brain too fuzzy this time around. In the still of the living room and the hum of Rod Serlings voice, he feels you squeeze his hand -- a silent thank you. He doesn't think he could be any more in love.

#orange colored sky #older!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #older!eddie munson x you #ocs!eddie #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie musnon #eddie munson fanfiction

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue sleepy kisses, baby kisses, cheesecake and cherry ice pops, and dinner with uncle wayne. [8k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a girl dad (<3), tw for mentions of not having much money, new established relationship! idiots in love!! and junie being the sweetest baby ever

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don't think you've ever seen Eddie asleep before. You rack your brain for a memory, even the suggestion of one, and come up blank. Maybe I dreamt it, you think to yourself, hesitating with your hand held aloft above his peaceful face.

He looks like a dream. 

What he'd said last night — before the kiss, and after — echoes. You can feel his hands on your face if you close your eyes, the heat of each gentle palm, the scratch of a silver ring. He's missing his jewellery now, because he takes it off before bed. You can't believe you hadn't known that. All these details. His lashes kissing the delicate skin of his under eye, the way his lips thin in sleep from being pressed together. You reach toward him with a shy hand and brush a bundle of curls from his cheek, exposing the ridge of his cheekbone, begging to be kissed. 

You'd been tired, so tired, and then he'd come back, and he'd crashed hard. You understand it. It'd been the most exciting moment of your life, and on top of that, he'd taken care of Junie for most of the day beforehand. 

You've slept sparingly. The sun leeches in through the window one small ray at a time. Junie makes a small sound behind you, stirring in her toddler bed. You nibble your lip guiltily, wanting one more minute, just one, to look at Eddie uninterrupted. 

You turn around and your reluctance melts, Junie a picture of a good long sleep. Her hair is a mess, her lips still pouting, and her eyes are partly open. She sees you're awake too and smiles, and the guilt of wishing she'd sleep in intensifies. She climbs down from her bed and rushes up to yours.

"Hey, baby," you say softly, holding out your arm.

She grabs the sheets and you help her up, folding her into your chest with a contented sigh.

She's tired, and she lets you move her around with little protest. Which isn't to say she's despondent: her hands latch onto your t-shirt, and her tiny chin rises as she stares you straight in the eye. 

"How did you sleep, bubby?" you whisper-coo, hand spread over the breadth of her shoulders, the other crushed under your own weight. "My hand's going numb." 

You pull you arm out and hold her face. "That's better. Good sleep? Do you feel happy?"

"Good," she says. "Feel good?" 

You huff out a delighted sound and drop your nose to hers. "I feel super good, Junie baby. I'm so happy, because you're happy, and you're so smart." 

She smiles more. 

"Can you say that, baby? Say, 'I'm so smart."

Junie wiggles against your torso, hands at the neckline of your sleep shirt. "Smart," she says. 

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'" 

"I'm so 'mart." 

"Yay!" you cheer again, your inflection celebratory even though you're still speaking in hushed tones. You don't want to wake Eddie, but maybe you do — is this the kind of thing he's interested in being a part of? "You're so smart. So so smart, and pretty and kind and soft." 

You stroke her cheek with the back of your index finger, hoping to tickle her into giggles. "So soft," you murmur, "my lovely soft girl. You know why you're so soft? It's 'cause you're such a good girl, and you let me wipe your cheeks after dinner even though you hate it." You're speaking quietly enough that some of the words sound worn, syllables lost. 

Junie doesn't need to hear them to know they're dripping in love. She rests her cheek against your upper arm, chub against chub, and you sink down with her, closing her in for a cuddle.

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck. 

"Love you," you say, kissing her head absentmindedly. 

"Love you," she says back. 

She'd been a slow-learner, and she's still behind the majority of her age group, but none of it matters. Hearing her say anything at all is a gift. Hearing her says she loves you? 

You laugh. There's nowhere else for all the happy to go. 

Your hopes of sleeping again are dashed when she sits up and sees the lump of a body behind you. If she's confused she doesn't show it, hands pressed to your tender side as she climbs over you and onto Eddie's stomach. 

He doesn't rouse at first. He sighs, his arm lifting where it's trapped under the sheets, your faded cornflower blue quilt that he'd praised unnecessarily. It's pretty, he'd said, back flat to your mattress as you'd imagined him a hundred times before. 

You're pretty, you'd said. He'd opened his arms to draw you in for another hug. They'd felt endless all night.

Junie gets to his chest and her face fills with recognition. 

"Eddie," she says happily.

He hums but still doesn't wake. Junie pulls down the blankets, and he raises his arm. Eyes closed, he wraps it around her, pulling her to his chest with a contented sound. She giggles, tiny baby giggles, and starts to play with his hair. 

“June,” he mumbles. 

“Eddie,” you say, apprehensive, forcing a lightness, “we have company.”

“I can feel that,” he says. 

To your — your pleasure, your elation, he turns onto his back and his free hand finds you. His fingers curl around yours and he holds them, thumb pressed to the knuckle of your index finger. 

His eyes open slowly, his lashes parting, his face dipped down to take Junie in. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeats with a laugh. “Aw, Junie, your hair! I’ve never seen you before mommy gets you dressed. Uncle Wayne would say you look like me when I wake up, when I was a kid he,” —Eddie talks through a yawn, smoothing the baby hairs out of Junie’s eyes— “used to say I looked like Linus from the Peanuts strip.”

“That’s so mean,” you say. You're relieved. You should've known Eddie wouldn't care. He loves her. 

"You know who you look like?" he asks her. 

She shakes her head. His face lights up. 

"Animal! Grown up Animal, not the baby." 

Your stomach rumbles. Eddie looks at you with concern, though that concern is a mild, soft thing. He sees you properly for the first time since he woke up, Junie held to his chest, hair as messy as hers, as yours probably is, his t-shirt neckline rolled from wear, and he visibly melts.

"D'you wanna go out for breakfast?" you ask. 

He shakes his head. "Come here." 

"What?" 

"Just come here. Lie down." 

You ease off of your elbow and slide toward him. You rest your head very carefully beside his, and are immediately delighted when he kisses your cheek. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pulling his arm out of hiding to steer the side of your face to his. Your noses smush together, eyes closing on instinct. "Hey, how are you?" 

"How are you?" you ask back. He sounds super tired. 

"Y'always do that. You can't just answer me? You're–" He kisses you, then, softly but with a sluggish imprecision. "Impossible." 

"I'm impossible?" 

"You're impossible," he promises. 

You try not to squish Junie as you wrap your arm around her and bring a hand to his cheek. The tiniest rebirth of stubble scratches your fingertips as they rove up his cheek to the smoothest plane under his eye. You turn your finger until the nail is flat to his skin, stroking a fascinated back and forth. 

"I can't believe you're real." 

Can't believe you're real, and you chose me, and you're here now letting my baby pull at the sweat curls tight at your neck. 

"Do I look bad?" he asks. 

You roll your head back enough to see his smile. It makes your heart skip in the best way, how handsome he is, and you have to dive in again to kiss the line between his lips and his cheek. He's really warm. Before him, you'd forgotten how this could feel, the heat that another person can give you and how protected it leaves you. 

"You look really nice," you say, your finger rubbing up and down his cheek. A teardrop to his chin that falls and climb over and over. 

"Eddie," Junie says, weaselling under your arm.

"What, baby?" he asks. 

She tucks herself up under his chin and lifts her head. It's awkward, but babies are like that. Always wanting to be where they aren't. 

"Junie?" he asks. 

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce. 

"You said my name, remember? Did you have something to ask me?" 

She giggles at his tone but doesn't answer. Your stomach makes some more aggressive sounds and Eddie shoots up like bamboo, baby held to his chest and hand behind your head. 

"Mom's dying." 

"Eddie." 

"Mom's super duper hungry," he says, stroking your forehead apologetically. "Now move, mom, so we may enter your kitchen and make super duper breakfast." 

"Oh, no, let me change her first," you say. "Poor girl, I slept through the entire night." 

He passes her over to you and you stand so he can slide out of bed. His smile grows. "Hair fairy got you both," he says. 

You glare. "You are not exempt." 

"Can I use the bathroom?" 

"Don't ask! Since when do you ask?"

"Do you want to go first?" 

His caring is sweet but unnecessary. "No. Please go, and spend like ten minutes in there? I promise we'll be much prettier when you get back." 

"You're beautiful now," he says, though he obeys your ask and treks out of the bedroom with a wanton groan and a stretch that shows a lot of back. It's more than likely on purpose. 

"I'm with my baby!" you yell, laughing. 

"Don't know what you mean."  

You strip Junie down to her smalls, change her diaper, and rub a nice lotion all over. She loves the skin to skin and stays still until you offer her today's options, two dresses, one blue and one a lighter green. She chooses the green, so you put green butterfly clips in her hair to match, and white socks with lace in black shoes. She looks awesome. 

"Girls?" Eddie shouts. "Can I come out now?" 

"I was kidding," you murmur to yourself, laughing.

You comb your fingers through your hair and meet him in the bathroom doorway with Junie's hand held in your own, glancing at each other through the gap. 

"I wasn't serious." 

"Sweetheart," he says, bending at the waist like he's been punched, "look at you. Juniper the Beautiful, holy sugar."  

She only smiles. 

"I can take her, yeah? I'll make breakfast. Do you want to get dressed?" he asks you, concern again softening the lines of his face. 

"Sorry," you say. 

"For what?" 

He takes your face into his hand, cupping your cheek. You meld into it like you're one and the same, two pieces of the same puzzle clicked back into place. Junie’s hand in yours makes three. 

"Alright, Junie, breakfast," he says, pulling apart and away with a humorous brevity, stealing her little hand from yours. 

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging. 

"We'll go get breakfast!" you call. That's why you'd put her shoes on.

"I can make it," Eddie says, voice carrying in the quiet. He shoots a smug look over his shoulder. "I can make it, seriously. Just have a minute for yourself, why don't you?" 

You wonder if that's code words for you look like shit right now, but you firmly believe Eddie wouldn't tell you that even if you did. You wash up in the bathroom and then get changed into a new-old skirt that you sometimes wear to work though you're not supposed to and a nice shirt that doesn't go. You take it all off and try again. And again. 

You pull on a pair of tight sweatpants and the band t-shirt he'd bought you all those weeks ago. For a moment you stand there, face in your hands, and then a big hand presses to your shoulder blade and scares you into flinching. 

"Oh, shit," you say. 

Eddie laughs a storm and gets his hand under your armpit. That's worse, and you squirm, but he doesn't budge, pulling you toward him for a tight-boned hug. 

"You're taking for ages," he says, parroting one of Junie’s newer phrases. 

"Well." You shove your face into the top of his shoulder. "I think I'm nervous. Do I look stupid? Nothing fits me." 

He hears your embarrassment and your panic and hoists you backward, hands curled around the tops of your arms as he gets a good look. 

"You look pretty, and like you need something to eat." He presses his lips together, a funny picture of nervousness to mirror your own. "I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't really know how to do that. Just. Are you still– You don't regret it?" 

It sounds clunky in his mouth. 

"I don't regret any of it," you say sincerely. 

"Good," he says, recovering quickly from this show of vulnerability with a good heaping of bravado, "'cause I was really hoping to get to do this again." 

His hands climb your shoulders, settle neatly in the curves of your neck. He holds your face. You wait for him to kiss you. 

"What? I brushed my teeth." 

He presses his lips to yours all wonky with laughter. It's fleeting, not nearly as long as you want it to be, but Junie shouts something from the kitchen and draws both of your attention. 

"It wasn't about you brushing your teeth," he says, back of his hand rubbing yours as he overtakes. 

Junie stands in the kitchen with a spatula, a whisk, and the rolling pin, an array of items from the bottom drawer she's in the middle of relocating. 

"Sorry I left her, I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, trying to think of ways to let me down easy. I put the TV on. Not that you can't let me down easy," he says, bending to face Junie.

You shake your head as he starts to help her take things out of the drawer. You don't keep anything sharp in it for this exact reason, Junie's enthusiastic upheaval. 

He catches your look. "I'll put them back! Promise." 

"It's fine, you know she does it all day anyways." 

And really, he should know you won't mind because whenever he's here he helps. Cleans, cooks, soothes her small tantrums and her bigger distresses, like when you won't let her eat laundry powder with the tiny shovel that comes in the box. 

He's even started playing the bad guy sometimes. It sounds crazy, but having someone who's willing to say no for you is a sharp relief. To get to be the comforter rather than the nag, and to share a smile over Junie’s distraught head. 

"This is positive reinforcement." 

"I know both of those words, and yet," Eddie says, closing the now emptied drawer with his foot. 

"You helping her take stuff out teaches her that those things should be taken out." You pull open the fridge. "But it doesn't really matter, I'm just saying. Do you want orange or apple juice? June?" 

You hold out the carton of apple juice and the gallon of orange. The orange juice is awful, a concentrate with too much sugar, and it's delicious, so Junie picks that one without hesitating. You give her half juice half water in a sippy cup. 

"Is mine watered down too?" Eddie asks, accepting the glass you press into his hand. 

"I even mixed in some pedialyte. You're welcome." 

He nods with more genuineness. "Thank you. Now sit down! I'm making breakfast. I'm gonna make it. What do you want?" 

You look at him, fresh but still sleep rumpled, and you think about how hungry you are, and you really like him so much and you get why he wants to do this, but. 

"Listen, let's go out. Let's get waffles and syrup and strawberries and nobody will have to do the dishes." 

He buckles way too fast. It feels like a big compliment, how quickly you can erode his resistance. 

"Alright. Fine, but not because I couldn't have made all of those things." 

"Of course not." 

"You look crazy pretty when you ask for things, you know? All this time I've been begging you to ask for things and now I'm a little worried. D'you always smile like that? I could be in trouble." 

You boo at him and he smiles all the way to the car. He's still smiling as he drops his hand onto your thigh, pulls out of the driveway, and starts down the street leading out of the trailer park. It takes you a minute, but eventually you realise you can touch him back, laying your hand on top of his experimentally. 

"Do I look stupid?" he asks. 

He's stolen one of your hoodies to hide his slept on shirt. His jeans look messed up from sleeping in, but they're baggy. 

"You don't… You could start leaving clothes at my house, you know? If you wanted to– stay again." You swallow a nervous giggle. "I mean." 

"Of course I want to stay again. I'd love to. I love being with you." 

He squeezes your thigh. If it weren't for his pinking ears, you'd assume him unaffected. 

"Okay. Good. You can stay the night whenever you like, handsome, 'cause I love being with you too." 

You wonder and worry if your declaration is too close to an I love you he doesn't want. You do love him, have loved him for a while, but you have no clue what you even are. Last night, you'd said best friend. He's more than that, he has to be. 

You're in sync, or he can read your mind. He says, "We'll talk about it. After you get some breakfast in you. Your stomach's so loud they just put a weather warning on the radio." 

"They did not." 

—

Wayne puts a beer down in front of his nephew and doesn't pull any punches. 

"If you get that poor girl pregnant, I will disown you. Not her, mind you. Just you." 

Eddie thinks this is a very weird thing to say, but he also knows that Wayne is mostly kidding. 

"I'm not going to get her pregnant." 

Satisfied, Wayne sits down next to Eddie on the couch, the two of them tired from a long day at work, the TV on quietly in the background. It's the same thing they do everyday, or everyday before Eddie met you and your baby. 

"I get to meet her, or we just gonna meet at the wedding?" 

"Funny," Eddie says. "You can meet her whenever you want to. I kind of didn't think you'd be interested." 

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw. 

"Son, I want to meet her. Her and the baby. I didn't know if it was gonna work, but…" He smiles at Eddie. Eddie thinks that it's a mix of pride and love, and it has a lump forming in his throat near instantly. "I should've known, huh?" 

Eddie makes himself scoff. 

"Yeah, you should've." 

"Only thing you ever half-assed was high school." 

"You had to get that one in there." 

Quick wit and nipping comments aside, Eddie knows Wayne truly does want to meet you and Junie, and that he should've a long time ago. It had been a cop out to say he didn't think Wayne wanted to meet you, because he knew his uncle had been curious and — he's family. Wayne is Eddie's family, and you and June have become the same. 

When he brings it up to you, he does it carefully. With flowers. 

You open the door and throw your arms around him, smashing the flowers unapologetically. He chuckles into your neck, pulls you tight to his chest. You smell like the diner.

"How come you never used to do this before?" he asks. 

"You never did either." 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, before your usual shyness takes over and you pull away. He's having none of it, grabbing your wrist before you can escape to offer your flowers. 

"Here. You'll have to give me one back for Junie, though." 

You give him the biggest flower of the bunch, a huge pink carnation with perfect petals and a thick stalk. Your fingertips brush his as you do, and his eyes are drawn to them, your hands, the bump and bone of your knuckles. You still have a scratch from work down the length of your pinky, and they're scrubbed raw as usual from cleaning. He worries you're a little compulsive about cleaning, but he supposes you'd had to have been, all by yourself. He resolves to treat them kindly at the next possible opening. 

"Thank you." 

You don't blink at his bag from Bradley's. You try not to look at it; Eddie won't accept a thank you and you're trying to let him give you things, as per the arrangement. 

As in, you, with Junie in your lap and fresh cream on your cheek, had agreed to be his girlfriend three days ago in the booth of a diner that wasn't Benny's. He hadn't been as brave as he could've been. It felt unreal to him to be with you, to have kissed you more times than he could remember, and to have you smiling back. 

"Listen, I know you said we're best friends, and we are, you're my best friend, but I– we're more. I want to be your boyfriend." He rolled the word around so you'd know how strange he though it was. "But if you've… changed your mind–" 

You'd reached across the table, pads of your fingers stroking the back of his wrist. "Why would I change my mind?"

"You realise, if we're together, you have to let me take care of you all the time?" he'd asked, full of nervous energy and really, really pleased. Proud to have you. 

"I think I can deal with it." 

He'd rubbed the toe of his shoe against your ankle and finally told you about the cream on your face. 

"Junie?" he says now, eyes searching for your lovely daughter. 

"She's in the bedroom." 

"What for?" 

You squeeze your hand through the crook of his arm, press your cheek to the top of his shoulder, and laugh. "She's making Eddie's bed, apparently. I tried to explain that you won't be sleeping here all the time but I might have made it worse." 

Did you make it worse, or had your toddler misunderstood? He hates how even in the small things you'll blame yourself. This feels like a completely blameless situation, and, if anything, it's his fault, he's the one who stayed the night, and then another night, and another. He'd gone home between those days, had even gone to work, and really didn't mean to spend the night each time. It's addictive to get to sleep with you so close by. Getting to kiss you with your arm slung over his chest, your tired eyes staring up at him lovingly — he's a good person but he's weak, too. 

He knows it's a little improper to stay this close so soon. If he thought for a second you weren't okay with it he'd be out the door. 

"Eddie?" you ask. 

"What?" 

"You're staring straight through me," you say, sounding both amused and concerned. "What are you thinking about?" 

"You, mostly. You and June. You know, Wayne wants to meet you." 

You shake the bouquet at him, brows furrowed accusingly. "Is this a bribe?" 

"'Course not… Are they working?" 

"I don't need flowers. I want to meet him too. It's weird we haven't met before. You keeping us apart?" 

"I absolutely am. I was a gross kid, I don't need him to tell you all of that now I actually got you." 

Eddie draws away from you reluctantly to put his bag on the table, as well as June's flower. He pulls out the dinner he's brought for tonight and his most important purchase, a vase big enough for your flowers. It's simple clear glass with dainty enamel flowers around the circumference. 

"For you, my sweetheart, a vase for the flowers. You want me to cut the stems?" 

You beam at him, a shining smile that makes his chest feel fizzy, a can of soda on a rollercoaster as the sound of thumping comes from the bedroom, small footsteps racing to the door. 

"Think she heard you," you say. You smile, take the vase, and kiss his cheek in a silent thank you. 

Sure enough, Junie appears down the hall and Eddie's barely taken three steps when she's laughing and pawing at his legs, having raced all the way.

"Eddie," she cheers, arms up in the universal sign for 'grab me before I start screaming'.

He's more than happy to get his hands under her arms and pull her to his chest, your mini me breathing hard as she settles. Her hand presses into his collarbone, her lips puckered up for a kiss. He doesn't usually kiss her, doesn't really know where the line is, but denying her feels cruel. He kisses her cheek and feels her lips press to his cheek at the same time. 

"Thank you," he coos, "thank you for the kiss, baby, I'm happy to see you too." 

"See you," she says, patting his neck. 

"How do I look? Handsome?" 

She tangles her fingers in his hair. 

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?" 

Eddie leans against the countertop you're facing so he can see your face. "He's never met you." 

"Duh, but does he like me?" 

"Probably. He has a bunch of reasons to like you and none not to like you." 

"Doesn't hate me for stealing his baby boy?" 

Eddie wonders if he's going red. "No, god, he'd thank you for it. Man hasn't had a quiet night in a decade and a half." You laugh softly, fingers weaving through flowers to arrange their leaves and stalks, and he catches a flash of uncertainty as it twists your mouth. "Seriously, he'll like you. I know everybody says it 'bout everyone, but Wayne's a good man." 

"I know he's a good man, just…" You frame the flowers with your hands and step back. You smile at him to unsuccessfully hide an insecurity he can spot a mile away. "I'm not the girl people would pick for their son, you know?" 

He raises his eyebrows, feels bad and drops them. Eddie lives in a trailer park, and has done for most of his life, it's not like the people around here are prudent about love and partners: Eddie's obviously not the first guy to ever date somebody who already has a kid. He doesn't wanna brush it under the rug, though. Your worrying worries him. 

"I think you're exactly who he'd pick." He smiles at you in warning. You asked for this, sweetheart, buckle in. "Gorgeous girl with a perfect body," —you snort— "'n' a heart of gold." He pats between Junie's shoulders where she's oh so quiet in his arms, an affectionate slump over his heart. "And her pretty baby, too. I'd choose you for my kid. You know, if I was old. And I had one."

You wrap Junie up with one hand, the other placed sweetly over his shoulder. Your thumb strokes into his skin. "Thanks, Shakespeare," you say, letting your head dip down until your lips are flat to his shirt. 

He drops his head into yours. 

"Do you think he should come over for dinner?" you ask quietly. 

"What, today?" 

"It's gonna make me nervous thinking about it otherwise. What did you bring? Or maybe I can get pizza?" 

He encourages your head back, palm to the side of your head. He strokes down until his hand covers your ear and curls around the curve of your neck. Insanely, he thinks it is a privilege to get to see you upset and to get to try and fix it. 

"I can ask him, and he's not fussy. You're sure you want to do this today? I could host, you know, or we could go out." 

You shake your head, looking grim. Dread clear in your eyes, you say, "I'll obsess over it. Can you call him before I lose my nerve, please? Do you think that would be alright?" 

You ask like he genuinely might say no. He hasn't had the power to say no to you for months. 

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im." 

You offer to take Junie and it's funny because she doesn't need to be held right now and yet neither of you want to put her down. She's relaxed and Eddie doesn't see why she should have to be anywhere else but in his arms, hiking her up his chest in one arm to use the phone. He slots the receiver between his shoulder and his head and types in Wayne's number without having to look. He's typed it hundreds of times, at friend's houses, at the school nurse when his Mom's didn't work anymore, at the Hideout. Just to say, I'll be home late, but don't worry. 

He extends the invitation with a teasing tone. "You wanna come around for dinner? Old lady's asking." 

"You can't call her your old lady, son, not yet. That's a privilege you gotta earn." 

Eddie laughs down the line. "What's wrong with old lady? I'm keeping it respectful, classy, aren't I? She's making burgers." 

"You better be helping her." 

"How can I help her? I'm on the phone to you." 

"What time am I expected?" 

"Let me ask." He pulls June back up where she's slipping, mouth lifted from the phone to grab your attention. "What time are you thinking, sweetheart?" 

"It can be done whenever he wants it," you say, elbow deep in ground beef. 

"Give us an hour, okay? Don't fill up on shit." 

"Yeah, boy, I won't. Better leave me alone to wash up, or I can come in my overalls–" 

"Alright, Wayne." He hopes it sounds like 'love you'. "See you in an hour. Don't forget." 

"Yeah, 'cause I'm that old," Wayne says, followed by the sound of the phone on the hook. 

Eddie passes it to Junie where she'd been dying to have a turn. He can't let her play too long, guilty already watching you chopping and dicing and washing. He sets her up on your couch with her army of teddies and a peach juice box from Bradley's. He'd picked them up thinking they were weird, and that he'd wanted Junie to try them if she hadn't before. She seems pleased with it, back and legs straight across the pillow, head bent in a way that would give a grown up a sore neck for the foreseeable future, socked feet wiggling along to the music playing on her show. 

He returns to find you washing your hands. Eddie wants to kiss your neck but doesn't have a clue in the world if he's allowed to do that now or ever, so he folds his arms over yours like a hug. 

"Can I get some of that?" 

You squirt dish soap into his palm. He's expecting grumbling and complaining at his weird position, but you say nothing, only laugh. You wash his hands for him, thumb rubbing down the small hills of his fingers until he has to wash off the suds, squishing you to the countertop edge with a feigned apology. 

You squeal with laughter. "Get off," you plead. 

"I'm so tired, suddenly, I don't know what it is." 

"Eddie," you moan, well and truly sandwiched under his weight. 

He pecks your neck and stands properly in search of a hand towel to dry off your dripping hands. He towels his, passes it to you, and uses his dry hands to cradle your face. He thinks you look beautiful but admittedly very tired, and lowers his voice to an adoring murmur.

"You can go sit down, if you want to." 

"Oh, no, there's too much to do," you say, and though you're denying him, your face lists heavily into one of his hands. You close your eyes for a moment before looking up at him through your lashes. "I can do it." 

"I know you can do it, I just don't want you to have to." 

He pulls you closer, his elbows pushed into your shoulders. 

"I'm really good at making burgers. S'like, my signature dish. That's why I got stuff for burgers, 'cause I wanted to cook tonight." 

You still don't budge. 

"Go on," he murmurs, "go get your cuddles." 

Junie, upon realising Eddie would be sleeping in your bed, has taken to climbing on top of him and insisting she get to stay in the big bed. She's hogging him, and it's clear you're not unaffected. Not jealous, not bitter, but missing your baby. 

You're in mild withdrawals, and it makes sense. After all, she gets her extreme need for affection from you. 

"You're sure?" you ask, frowning softly. 

"Yes," he says, laughing and pushing you away gently, "trust me, sweetheart, I can make dinner. You gotta take my flower for June, though." He picks it up off of the counter and twirls it under your chin. "I forgot all about it, you distracted me." 

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him. 

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up. 

He bends backward, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "You have it bad, huh?"  

"Forget I asked," you faux-threaten, spinning on your heel to leave. 

Eddie follows, spins you right back around with a hushed, "Where do you think you're going?" and kisses you, hand sliding up your cheek. 

One kiss turns to two, your lips parting slightly under the pressure. He grins and goes in for a third. 

—

You don't sit down for long. You steal a Junebug cuddle, in which she insists on sharing her juice box with you and kisses you upwards of twenty times. You giggle giddily, the petals of the flower you've tucked behind her ear almost blinding you with each one. They're drooly and gross and lovely to begin with, less wet when you leave to find something for her to wear. 

The dress she wears now is dirty from daycare, and the applesauce, crackers, and peanut butter you'd given her earlier stain the neck. You pick out a simple matching set of not-quite pyjamas. You want Wayne to know you dress her well, but you'd feel bad if she had to suffer any longer in clothes with buttons and zips.

Once she's changed, she's somehow even happier than she was. Now she's settled into daycare and your routine, she's over the moon all the time. She's finally settled in, and you have Eddie to thank for a good chunk of it. He's a great part of her routine, another person who wants to love and dote on her. While you know you'd been doing a great job by yourself, any extra love at all is welcome. You could love him for how he loves her and nothing else, only there's a thousand other things about him to love. 

Like his singing. You can hear him humming, then riffing, spatula scratching the frying pan as he rocks out to a song you can't hear. You're playing with Junie's toes, as strange as it sounds, wiggling and tickling the sole of her feet. 

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

"What?" you ask, leaning to her eye level, fluffy bed socks in hand. 

"Special treats for dinner?"

You can't believe the improvements in her speech, though it's natural, and it would've happened eventually. And it blows your mind because you'd known she was in there, she's a great listener and she's so patient for a toddler, but knowing she's having these thoughts and then having her voicing them now is something else completely. It's amazing. 

You tuck the sock under her pant leg and beam at her. "Yeah, baby, we're having special treats after dinner. Eddie's making burgers with the cheese," you hum, offering your open hand for her to hold.  "And… his Uncle Wayne is coming by for dinner. So we're gonna meet him and say hi to him and be super nice, okay?" 

"Okay. What's for treats?" 

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Eddie. Should we go ask him?" 

She nods enthusiastically and slides off of the sofa, gand in yours. She walks with a wobbly confidence into the kitchen, where the smell of searing hamburgers and black pepper is cloying. 

Eddie turns with the spatula, slouched with one elbow on the counter. He perks up when he sees Junie in her fresh clothes. 

"Hey, bub, look at you!" 

"She has something to ask you." 

Eddie crouches down. "Anything. What do you want to ask me, Junie?" 

"What's for," —her voice is small, high-pitched and clumsy but sweet— "... have for…" 

"Dessert," you whisper. "For treats." 

"What's for treats?" she asks, smiling. 

You sigh with pride and Eddie mirrors your expression. "Well," he says, reaching out to readjust the flower peaking in front of her hair, "I brought two things, cherry ice pops and cheesecake." 

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh." 

You leave them in their love bubble and change into your nice (bleach stained, agonisingly bleach stained) jeans, rather than meet Wayne in your waitressing skirt and blouse. Eddie wolf whistles as soon as you emerge, Junie now happily perched on his hip as he moves the burgers onto a plate to wait in the oven. Junie turns and drops the slice of cheese she was holding, startled at the noise. 

"Is this awful?" you ask, pointing to the thin line of bleach across your thigh. 

"'This' is killer," Eddie says. 

"No, but can you see the bleach?" 

"Not really. If you need new jeans, we can go get some."  

The I can't afford it begs to be said, though you know exactly what he'll say in response. 

"Not right now," he amends. "They look fine, okay? He won't notice. I had my first tattoo for three weeks before he saw it." 

You lean over the sink to open the window and let some clean air in. Eddie goes back to the plate, and Junie drops another slice of cheese. 

The knock at the door startles you. You're unprepared, terrified, and you haven't wiped down the dinner table yet. Eddie sees your panic and shakes his head at you. 

"It's fine. You want me to answer?" 

"We should both answer," you say, with a confidence you are not feeling. 

You hold your hands out for Junie. She's a safety blanket. 

Please like me, you think, letting Eddie pull you to the door. 

—

You have nice shoulders. Eddie feels like he's had this thought before. Often, he looks at you, and he finds something new to catch onto and to obsess about. This hasn't changed in the few days you've been together. It's gotten worse. 

He can see the top of Junie's head against your shoulder but not her sleeping face. You sway her from side to side and he can see you arms shaking with the effort it takes to have been holding her for this long, your quiet humming now a whisper of sounds. The gentle thudding of your hand against the bottom of her spine stops, and you turn to look at him, a question in your eyes. 

He nods. Looking good. 

You ease her down into her toddler bed and spend some time pulling the blankets over her legs, tucking her small army of teddies in beside her. 

Finger to your lips, you and Eddie creep out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. There's nothing to clean. His Uncle Wayne is a stickler who couldn't not help clean up. 

Wayne had definitely liked you. You're still glowing with it. It had been a great time, not nearly as awkward as you'd feared, and Eddie's feeling pretty content right now. You waste no time collapsing on the couch. A sippy cup under your hip, cushions in disarray at your head. Eddie grabs the half of the cheesecake that's left and two spoons and sits right next to you, thigh to thigh, no need for friendly space anymore. He forces the spoon into your hand, slides the cheesecake onto your thigh, and moves the sippy cup out of the way. 

"My arms are too tired," you mumble, dropping back into the cushions. Junie had piled them all up behind Wayne's head. She was extra, extra nice. 

"Want me to feed you? I can baby bird you." 

"Ew. That image never gets any less disgusting, Eddie." 

It's been Eddie all day. What's a guy gotta do to get a 'handsome'? A 'baby'? 

He laughs around a spoonful of cheesecake and twists his foot behind your calf, linking your legs. You've managed to finally get cable, and an episode of Jeopardy plays on mute across the room. There are toys everywhere, the kind of mess that you'll spend three hours putting right, sorting and spritzing and wiping with Junie behind you pulling things back out. 

Eddie's already got the clothes here to stay, and Wayne had said, "See you tomorrow," when he left, but Eddie asks anyway. 

"Can I stay over?" 

You sit up to drop your face heavily into his shoulder.

"Please, handsome. Don't want you to go home." 

There's the pet name he'd been searching for. A warmth climbs all over, a twinge in his stomach. He heaps cheesecake onto your spoon and presses the handle into your fingers. You eat it slowly, tip of your tongue making an unexpected appearance when a crumb sticks to your lip. 

You make a sound that should probably be illegal and drop the spoon into the cheesecake casing, freeing your arm to wrap it around his chest. You nuzzle your nose into his skin, sniffing. 

He laughs from happiness and nothing else, making good work of the cheesecake while you doze. He's not an animal, leaving some for you and June if you want more tomorrow, but he isn't temperate, either. He's thinking this might be the perfect life, you and your baby, Uncle Wayne laughing at your kitchen table, Junie in the high chair beside him trying to make a babbling conversation. She'd managed a couple of proper words and an impressive sentence, much better at answering than asking but trying either way. 

"You're a ringer for your mom, kid, you look like twins," he'd said softly. 

"Ring-ring," she'd said happily, excited to have understood. She'd offered her hand to him, pinky and thumb stuck out. 

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone. 

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

"Junie loves everybody," you say through a yawn, hand soothing up and down his side greedily. "Not like she loves me and you, but she does. She keeps hugging all the other babies at daycare and they don't know how to stop her." 

"What? You've never told me that." 

"I didn't know 'till this morning." Your fingers find and breach the hem of his shirt, pads tracing to the small of his back. 

"God, you're cuddly tonight. Here, let me–" He moves the cheesecake. "Come here." 

You groan, "No, this is fine." 

"Sit on my lap, loser." 

"I'm heavy." 

True or not, Eddie wants you in his lap, and he's selfish, pulling at you like a kid not getting his way. You end up flopping over his lap to stop him, curled into an uncomfortable but darling position. He gets his hand behind your ear and turns your face, wanting to see your eyes and your nose and your lips. 

Your eyes are bright in the lighting. 

"Wayne liked you," he says, stroking down the shell of your ear with his thumb. 

"I can see why you're so kind," you say. 

You smile at each other. 

"I don't know what I did." 

Eddie leans down, tilts his head to line up with yours, his eyes flicking between the lightness softening your gaze or the curve of your top lip, calling him in like a siren. "What did you do?" he murmurs. 

"To get so lucky," you say. "I don't know. I must have been a saint, in a past life." 

"A past life," he repeats. 

Your eyes find his and narrow. He knows where you're looking, that little dot of dark hiding beneath his eyelashes. You move over his lap carefully, hands behind his neck to anchor yourself. Your thighs against his thighs, ankles locking him in, your hands always so gentle where they play in his hair. 

He thinks there's a kind of melancholy to moments like this. He panics, in his way, in his head, because there are no guarantees. This perfect night with a perfect girl could be it. There are many bad things that could happen, unspeakable, and he gets this trip in his chest like a fuse shorting out. 

He should slow down and tell you what he feels. How you're his and he's the lucky one, goddamn, he's never had luck like this in his life. 

He smooths his thumb across your lips and stops at the corner, momentarily ashamed of his big, clumsy hand, and permanently in awe of your softness, your goodness, how it lines every feature on your brilliant face. 

You lean in for a kiss. 

Your lips are parted, and he thinks you might've read his mind, the hunger and the fear he'd felt, the heart-pounding reverence, that split second of wanting to say something he shouldn't yet. It feels like you read his mind; your lips kiss and kiss and your hands tremble minutely behind his head. The heat of your tongue shocks him like the first drag, has his hand bawling in the fabric of your shirt, a low sigh smothered by your attention. 

Your nose touches his. In the days since his confession you've endured a frankly overzealous amount of his kissing. He's had you in bed, in the kitchen, just outside the front door. Some heavy handed, some sweeter than sugar, none ever for anything but kisses. Your ardency surprises and excites him — his pulse is a freight train, pounding in his veins as you yield. Your head tips back slow, your gasping breaths a golden sound he endeavours to keep forever. 

When you lay back, it's quietly, hand at his front and encouraging you to lay with him. He props himself up on his side, one hand feeling for your upper arm, wishing you'd worn something with shorter sleeves so he could feel your skin. The other covers the column of your throat. He can feel your too-fast breathing in his palm, your shallow gasps. 

Your eyes close again as he ducks in. He rubs a line with the tip of his nose next to yours, the heat emanating off of your skin thickening the air. Or, that's what it feels like. 

"Kiss me," you say under your breath. This close, you might as well have shouted it. 

He kisses you until not one of you can breathe properly, and a little after that, too. His thumb ghosts under the curve of your breast and he can feel the tightness of the question between you, a string pulled taut by your hand and his. 

"Sweetheart," he says, trying to pour all of his affection and something deeper into the word, "do you want to…" 

"What?" you ask. 

He lifts his head off of yours and waits. You open your eyes in confusion, though that confusion quickly turns when you hear what he's hearing. 

Movement. Little feet. 

He pulls his weight off of you and helps you up, brushing down your hair, your hot cheeks. You move away from his hand without malice, and when he turns he's not at all surprised to see baby Junie in her pyjamas, the ear of a teddy clasped in a small fist. 

You press your arm to his. 

"Sorry," you whisper. 

He turns to you, blinks three times quick. "Baby, it doesn't matter." It's unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as your mortified expression. He holds his hand out to Junie where she's meandering toward you, exhausted steps unsafe but determined.

She reaches his knees, and Eddie helps her up to sit between you both, his arm behind her head. 

You stroke her hair. The look you give him is pensive and loving at once. You lift your chin, and he presses a saccharine, chaste kiss against your kiss bitten lips. 

Junie falls asleep again near immediately. Eddie finds your hand in the mess of limbs and gives it a good squeeze. 

"Bed?" he asks. 

You slouch down. "In a minute?" 

He slouches down with you, letting his temple drop against yours over Junie's sleeping figure. 

"Whatever you want." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! im so happy they’re together this is my fave part of every fic, aimless adoration <3 im not sure what to write for part sis so I’d love to hear what you want to see there, thanks so much

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #mom!reader #eddie munson x mom!reader

[russellsppttemplates]

All the milestones (Lando Norris)

Fraser came earthside earlier than you expected

Note: english is not my first language. Believe it or not, I'm also a preemie (genetically and health wise, I am a catch, I know). Jokes aside as this is a serious topic, I was born at thirty three weeks because of some complications and it all turned out well, but I am aware of what it entailed from people telling me and it isn't something I've seen around here! Knowing that the diversity I write brings comfort to read and to ask this warms my heart up so much 🫶 I'm also basing this off of my mum's experience!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions c-section and themes related to hospital stays and procedures, prematurity, pre-eclampsia

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"I'm really sorry I can't go with you, darling", Lando apoligised as he set the plate with lunch in front of you, "it's okay, it's just an ultrasound", you responded, "we're just going to check if everything is alright with you, right, little one?", you tapped your babybump softly. At thirty weeks pregnant, you were starting to feel the tiredness and aches like you had felt in your previous pregnancy, only now you had a toddler to look after as well, so you had been taking it easy. Fortunately, you were able to juggle work and family life in a way that allowed you to make the minimum compromise to both spheres of your life.

"Drink your water, baby", Lando reminded you, tapping the jug, "I'm going to pick up my dad from the airport and then we'll both get Tilly. Are you feeling like going out for dinner or should I get take out and we eat here?", he questioned, taking a bite of his food.

"I'd prefer to stay in", you stated, "are you feeling like anything special?", he asked back.

"Right now I can't think of anything", you offered, not really looking forward to eating the delicious food in front of you if you were really being honest. Still, you manage to eat the most of it.

"Have a good meeting, Lan, I love you", you said as you put your coat on, grabbing your bag with all your documents.

"Be safe, okay, baby?", he checked, kissing the top of your head and then kissing your baby bump, "and you too, buddy, keep yourself and mummy safe and sound, don't give her too much trouble", he said, helping you out of the door before you went on your separate ways, "I love you, gorgeous mummy!", he winked before he got inside his car.

Once you arrived at the hospital and checked yourself in, your midwife Amelia greeted you in the examination room, "how have you been feeling, Y/N?", she asked as she slipped the bad on your arm to get your blood pressure numbers, sending the urine sample to the lab.

"I've been feeling a little tired, especially compared to last time, which I can only put down to having Tilly, and she's a very calm child", you giggled, remaining quiet as the machine got your numbers.

"These look quite high, did you run up here?", she asked, "no, I got here earlier than I expected actually, I've been sitting on the waiting room for a bit", you scrunched your face.

"We'll just wait for your results and then we'll see if it's something we have to wordy about", she tranquilized, "let's see you baby boy, shall we?", she smiled as you lifted your shirt, letting her apply the cream and move the wand around.

"There's your son, Y/N", she smiled, "He's a bit quiet, but the heartbeat sounds good", she smiled, taking a few more pictures so you could bring them home for Lando and Matilda to see.

A knock on the door alerted you both as Amelia was taking your measurements, "I have the results for Y/N Y/L/N-Norris", your OB checked, seeing you in the room, "Hi, Y/N, I thought I'd only see you later", she said as she walked in. She pulled on a stool and sat on it, "your results are indicating that you might be in pre-eclampsia", she said as she showed the tablet's screen to Amelia, her stern expression confirming your suspicions on how serious the situation was, "your body is having trouble keeping up with everything, hence your high blood pressure and your urine results suggest your kidneys are working overtime as well", Dr. Martin said as you straightened up, hands coming to wrap around your baby bump protectively, "your baby is fine, so that's not a big worry, but we do think it would be best if we delivered him tonight", she advised.

"But he's too small", you argued.

"You're at thirty weeks, which isn't ideal, but the survival rate is very very high for babies born at this time, and we also have a team that is specialised in preemie care, so he will be in the best hands", she comforted, "we need to give you corticosteroids to make sure the baby's lungs are ready for when he comes earthside, we'll get you admitted and monitor you and the baby to make sure he's not struggling either. In a few days, depending on how this goes, we'll do a c-section. I know it's not ideal, but this is the best way to make sure you and baby boy stay safe".

Sighing, you nodded, "okay, whatever is best for both of us", you asserted, "I just need to call Lando - my father in-law is coming to stay for a bit and they're getting Matilda from school", you thought out loud.

"Absolutely, dear, everything is going to be just fine", Amelia conforted while Dr. Martin set you up to go to a room.

Lando helped Matilda up to her car seat, strapping her in as she spoke to his father, "and did you have a good day, princess?", Adam asked, "yes, we coloured lots and we saw a couple of butterflies when we were having our snack!", she smiled as Lando drove home.

The car system alerted them of a call from you, "hey, beautiful, I'm in the car with my father and Tilly - say hi to mummy, babygirl!", he encouraged, "Hi, mummy!", she cheered, "Hey Y/N", Adam greeted too.

"Hey, guys! Lando, can you give the phone to your dad, please?", you asked, "sure, love", he said as he disconnected the phone from the car, nodding his father to take the phone in the console.

"Hey, Y/N, is everything alright?", Adam asked over the phone, "Hey, Adam, I hope you travelled well! I'm not sure if Lando told you, but I had an appointment today, and it turns out I have to be admitted", you began, "I don't want to worry him, much less when he's driving, so as soon as you get home, can you tell him to call me back again, please? Baby Fraser might join us sooner than we expected", you mumbled, nerves obvious in your voice as Adam stayed with a neutral face.

"Absolutely, Y/N, I'll let him know", he said before hanging up.

"What was it? Is everything alright?", Lando asked, knowing there would be a reason as to why you didn't want to have everyone listening to the conversation.

Checking the rearview mirror to see Matilda playing with one of her books, Adam clarified Lando, "she is going to stay at the hospital for a little longer than she expected for some check ups, she didn't want Matilda to hear about it", he said. It wasn't too much of a lie, and he certainly didn't want to scare anyone and since Lando would be calling you anyway, it could wait for a bit, "she asked you to call her when you got home. Don't worry, I'll keep Matilda entertained", he smiled.

Once they arrived, Adam left his things in the guest bedroom and met Matilda in the kuchen, "grandpa will make you some snacks. What do you want, darling?", he asked as he urged Lando to go and make a call to you.

"Hi, baby", Lando said as you picked up, "dad said you wanted me to call you, is everything alright?", he asked as he stepped inside the bedroom, hanging his coat in the closet.

"Hi, my love", you sighed and sending Lando into alert, "when they did my check up, Amelia took my blood pressure and it was really high, and my urine sample didn't look great either. It turns out I'm in pre-eclampsia and they want to keep me for observation, and it's likely Fraser will join us in the next few days", you added, "I need you here -, and things for me", you let out.

"Are you okay? I'll start packing right away", he said as he put his phone on speaker, looking for pyjamas and toiletries.

"My blood pressure is high - so far there's no distress for the baby, and they want to keep him in for as long as they can", you explained, "I, I am fine staying here on my own, that's okay, but I really need you here for a bit", you asked, "of course, my love. I'm going to pack these up quick and I'll be there. I love you", he said before you said it back, putting his phone in his pocket and zipping the bag.

"Daddy, where are you going?", Matilda asked as she saw the bag, "princess, mummy is going to stay in the hospital for a bit so the doctors can make sure her and baby are okay, and daddy is going to take a few things for her", he announced, crouching down so he was at her level.

"Is mummy sick?", she pouted, "she's a little tired, so they're going to make sure she rests up as much as she can", he slipped out, "I'm going to be there for a little bit to giver her her pyjamas so she's comfy, and then I'll be right back, okay? Can you stay here with grandpa?", he asked.

"Okay, daddy", she said before walking away, "but wait!", she called from the hall.

"I'll get dinner started and tuck her in if it gets too late - she didn't want me to tell you until you were home", he apoligised, "I know, I know, thanks for being here, it was bloody good timing", Lando mused.

Matilda came back with one of her stuffed toys, a McLaren bear she loved, "this is for mummy, so she doesn't sleep alone", she smiled sweetly. Maybe her innocence was positive because it meant she was dealing with the situation quite well.

"I'll give it to mummy, baby girl, I bet she'll love it", he smiled, kissing her cheek and leaving to the garage so he could drive to the hospital.

When he arrived, Amelia walked up with him as she told you all there was to know, knocking on your room door before they stepped inside.

"Darling", he said, setting the bag down and sitting next to you on the bed, kissing your forehead protectively, "how are you?", he asked.

"Fine, although I don't think it has really sunk in", you mumbled, playing with his fingers, "how is Tilly?", you wondered.

"She gave you Mr. Brown", he said as he fished out the bear from the bag, "she said she wanted you to have it so you wouldn't be alone in here", he smiled.

After spending as much time as he could with you, he bid you goodbye and went home, finding his father washing up the dishes as Matilda got her pyjamas on for the night, "I have a tupperware for you in the fridge if you want something to eat".

"Thanks, I've got it from here though - c'mon, little miss, we're going to sleep!", Lando hoisted her up, holding her on his hip as they walked upstairs to the bedroom, "can I sleep in your bed, daddy?", Matilda spoke in a small voice, "I don't want you to be alone either", she admitted.

Smiling at her sweetness, he nodded, "of course you can, love. Mummy sent her goodnight wishes for you, and maybe we can visit her tomorrow, how does that sound?", he smiled, "yes, please, daddy!".

.

"I made these for you, mummy, so your room is nice and colourful!", Matilda smiled as Lando let you in for a cuddle, your little girl getting help from her grandfather at ripping the tape so she could display her drawings she brought you almost daily, only missing days where Landk hadn't been able to bring her to the hospital because of their schedules.

"That's beautiful, darling, thank you so much", you gushed before turning to Lando, "has she cried again?", you whispered. You had been in the hospital for five days now, and two nights ago Matilda started with what was a tantrum at first and then evolved to crying about the fact that you weren't home. Lando was able to talk it out with her, welcoming her and allowing her to talk about how she was feeling and how it was beyond the fact that her tights were itching her.

"No, yesterday she told me she couldn't wait for you to come home, and that you were taking longer than she liked", he snickered, "always little miss rushing when it comes to you", he kissed the side of your head. Even though she was a daddy's girl through and through, she never made you feel left out.

"Y/N", Dr. Martin called after she stepped inside the room, "Oh, Matilda, you're so grown up already! Time flies by", she said as she waved at your little girl while Adam pulled her to sit on his lap, whispering "That's mummy's doctor, she is going to check up on her so you have to keep quiet, okay?" into her ear.

"I was checking your results, and I think between tonight and tomorrow, we might have to deliver your baby boy", she stated, everyone in the room straightening up as Matilda tried to read the adults' faces.

"His lungs look really good in the ultrasound we did this morning - as you know those were our biggest concerns, so we'll come up to monitor you, okay?", she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before excusing herself.

"Well, I think it's best if we get going, then", Adam said as he got up, coming up to kiss the top of your head and squeeze your hand in his.

"Mummy, I know you're going to do very well", she said, earning small giggles around the room, "when can I come and meet the baby?", she stepped up to give you a kiss.

"We will have to see how it all goes, princess, but when you can, you'll be the first to come, okay?", you smiled, brushing the curls out of her eyes and kissing her head.

"I'll drop these guys home, get the baby bag and then I'll be back", Lando said, kissing your lips and your baby bump, "you stay in there for just a little longer, okay buddy?".

By the time Lando got back to the hospital, you had already been given a few medications to prep you for the c-section, "Kelly and Max advised that I shopped for some smaller clothes, so I have those in there", he tapped the baby bag, "and how are you feeling?", he cupped your cheek.

"My blood pressure is really high, so they're thinking about putting me under, like, full body anesthesia", you bit your lip. Getting surgery was already a big thing, but being completely under was another.

"Oh, okay", Lando gulped, "they won't let me be in there then", he realised, "that's not how we wanted this to happen, but it's going to be okay, gorgeous. You're the strongest woman I know, you're going to be just fine", he smiled, "and our baby boy will come out screaming and he will be the strongest little one ever", he said, trying to convince you and himself of his words. He was scared too, but it wouldn't do you both any good to dwell on it too much.

Knocking on the door, one of the lovely interns and Amelia came to get you, "are we all ready? I'm afraid you already know this, Lando, but you won't, be able to be with us in the OR", she apoligised, "I'll wait right here, if that's okay", your husband suggested, kissing you one last time before they wheeled you off, "I love you, Y/N", he muttered against your lips.

While he waited, he looked at the drawings in the room with precise attention, finding one where Matilda drew the four of you, her brother in your arms and Lando holding her hand, names scribbled under each person in Adam's writing.

Less than an hour later, Amelia stepped into the room, Lando getting up from his spot on the chair immediately, "everything went well, they were weaning Y/N off of the anesthesia, she's going to the PACU until she wakes up and then back here", she smiled, "your little boy is in the neonatal unit, do you want to come and meet him?", she asked, Lando letting out a sigh of relief at her words, "I'll let you know when Y/N comes back to the room", she ensured, having been in the job long enough to know the dilemma of wanting to be in two places at the same time.

"Yes, let's go", he said as he straightened up his sweater, "can I hug you?", he allowed himself to feel emotional, Amelia's open arms offering him a little comfort, "they're both alright, Lando, you have such a beautiful family", she cooed.

Walking with him to the neonatal care unit, she helped him into one of the gowns as they greeted the other parents inside along with all of the staff, "this is your little boy", she said, offering him a sanitizer for his hands, "he can't eat on his own just yet, so that single tube on his nose is feeding him, the other one is giving him oxygen, and those stickers are to make sure his heart is doing okay - little milestones and little victories", she explained as Lando took him in.

Surely, he was much smaller than Matilda, but he could already spot some similarities, "Can I touch him?", he asked, weary of disturbing the perfectly architected environment inside the incubator, "yes, of course! Just be mindful of the wires and tubes", she encouraged, opening the little doors so Lando could touch your son.

"Hey, buddy", he spoke as he touched his tiny fingers, "you're already such a fighter, breathing so well without ventilation", he cooed. He looked up all the complications and when he didn't see a mechanical ventilator, he couldn't help but feel proud of the baby, "he is, we did all the tests and for now supplemental oxygen seems to be enough", Dr. Martin said softly, not wanting to spook them as she showed up, "everything went well with Y/N, she should make a full recovery once it heals", she rubbed his back.

"Thank you", he said, keeping the tears at bay as he looked back at Fraser, "you're so tiny they had to roll up your diaper, hm little love?", he spoke, "there are so many people who love you and they have so much of it to give you".

A little while later, Amelia told him they were taking you up to your room, so Lando said goodbye to Fraser, "I'm going to see mummy, Fraser, and I'm going to tell her how much of a higher you are, I love you", he cooed one last time, rubbing his arm before taking his hands away, closing the little doors and folding the gown for later.

Walking into the corridor to your room, Lando could spot you in the other end, smiling as you spotted him too, "nearly beat you in this race", you smiled at him as he gestured for them to wheel you into the room, "everything went as expected, Dr. Martin will be up shortly to speak to you two", one of the interns said.

"How are you feeling, gorgeous?", he said, brushing your hair away from your eyes and behind your ears, "I'm fine, the meds are helping with the pain, I'm sure", you giggled, "they gave me a good dose".

"That's nice, at least", he said, "I've texted everyone to let them know you were okay and everything went well", he added.

"Have you seen him yet?", you asked, "yes, I have", Lando beamed, "He's very tiny and he looks a little bit like Tilly already. And he's such a fighter, too! He only had those little pin-like tubes to help him breathe, they didn't need any incisions or anything. I would've taken a picture but I couldn't take my hands away from him", he admitted.

"Hopefully soon I can see him", you gulped, knowing it would off the books for a bit since you had abdominal surgery.

"All in due course, baby. I'm so happy you're both fine", he kissed your forehead.

.

"I just want to hold my baby!", you hiccuped, wiping the tears falling on your cheeks while Amelia conforted you, "just one more day, Y/N, maybe two at maximum to make sure you're healing well, too", she smiled apologetically.

A knock on the door alerted you as Lando and Matilda walked inside, making you wipe your cheeks quickly, "mummy!", she cheered softly, approaching you and climbing on the bed softly since she knew you were healing, "have you been crying, mummy?", she said, hugging your arm and resting her head there.

"Mummy is upset because I can't go and see Fraser today", you explained as Lando kissed the top of your head.

Amelia excused herself as you caught up with everything back home, "grandpa asked me to give you kisses", Matilda recalled as she kissed your cheeks, "his plane has landed alresdy", Lando added, "That's nice of him, thank you darling".

"We can go and meet Fraser, Tilly", Lando said as the window they allowed visitors in was coming to the half-time mark, "I'm going to give him loads of kisses from you mummy, don't worry about it!", your daughter said sweetly as she climbed off the bed, "I'm going to try and FaceTime, okay?", Lando confirmed, handing you your phone before they left for the neonatal unit.

"Matilda, darling, you have to put this on, okay?", one of the nurses gave her a mask, "she's in nursery and she might have caught some bug that isn't showing symptoms yet and it could be harmful for the babies", he checked with Lando as your husband nodded.

"It's like a costume, Tilly!", Lando tried to make it fun for her, adjusting the gown and then the mask around her face, "you can't go around touching things, okay princess?", he stated as she nodded, ready to meet her little brother.

Lando got himself gowned and led them to Fraser's incubator, "that is Fraser, baby", he cooed, typing on his phone inside the clear bag and FaceTiming you like he promised so you too could see the moment they met for the first time.

"He's so tiny", she gasped, standing on the stepping stool so she could see him properly, "I can't kiss him, can I?", she asked and Lando shook his head, watching you smile on the screen, "I'm going to blow him the kisses I have from mummy then", she said, her hand making the movements from her covered mouth to her brother, "I love you, Fraser, and mummy loves you too, she can't be getting because her tummy still hurts a little", she told him.

"This just makes you want to have another right away, doesn't it?", Lando croaked out as he wiped a tear from his eye, your wide eyes looking at him, "not anywhere in the near future - my body knows that much!", you giggled at the soft sight, "but it is incredibly cute, yes", you smiled as tears fell on your cheeks too.

"Look, mummy! He moved his hand, he's saying hello to you", Matilda smiled, "He's saying he wants to see you, too!".

.

You were finally able to stand up and sit in a wheelchair, so your other goal for the day was going to see your son.

Amelia was the first to say she would take you, helping you sit and getting you there, "That's your little boy right there", she pointed as you were filled with giddiness and excitement.

Wheeling you to face plastic bassinet, your hand went straight inside, "he doesn't need oxygen anymore?", you asked his doctor, noticing the single tube you recognised as a feeding tube, "no, not anymore", he said, "we ran some tests this morning and he's doing just fine on his own, strong set of lungs he has! He woke two of the other babies up yesterday", he smiled.

Chuckling, you touched his arm softly, his hands opening and closing, "do you want to hold him?", he asked, catching you by surprise. Until now, no one ever held him as to make sure the treatments being done were working as best as they could.

"Can I?", you asked, eyes hopeful, "me and the rest of the team think he's finally strong enough to move out of here actually", he added, "not enough to go home just yet, but he can be in your room. This way you can have him close to you and of anything happens or you need help, the staff in your floor know what to do. He just needs to be able to feed without a pump, so either breastfeeding or bottle feeding", he stated.

"Wow, okay, I wasn't expecting this, I was so happy that I got to see him", you teared up, bringing your arms to position so the doctor could place your baby in your arms, mindful of the feeding tube that was still in him, "hey, my love", you cooed, touching his cheeks, "I'm your mummy. I know you were rushed out of my tummy, and it was scary for both of us, but it's looking up now", you cried, Amelia wiping your cheeks as she smiled too.

"Do you mind if we take his tube out now? Might be a little better for this little guy to be in his mummy's chest", the doctor suggested, getting the supplies he needed and setting them in the tray.

"It's okay, little guy", he said as he pulled it out, baby Fraser crying at the discomfort you could only imagine as you rubbed his back, "it's okay, my love, mummy's here to make it better", you shushed him, kissing his head multiple times.

"There, all done!", the doctor said, "if you want, you can feed him here or in your room, where you feel best", he wondered, "could we go to the room, please? I have my supplies there, too", you asked.

You had been pumping milk out since it came in, and you were finally able to feed him straight from your nipple, "okay, little one, you can't get lazy on us now that mummy has you in her room", Amelia encouraged, tapping his cheek slightly as he began suckling on your nipple, "there we go!", she cheered, "I told you it would get better, didn't I?", she winked at you.

When Lando and Matilda came for their daily visit, they didn't expect to see you walking around the room, your back facing the door, "you're up, mummy, that's good!", your daughter said as you turned around, showing her brother on your chest, "oh", she gasped.

"He passed all his tests, and he's getting chubby too", you cooed, squishing his thigh softly as Lando took the sight in, Matilda holding onto you as you patted her head and held your son. Your family was complete.

"That's daddy, Fraser", you cooed, pointing at Lando as your baby boy looked around to the two new people in the room.

"Can I have a cuddle?", Lando whispered before you transferred Fraser to his arms, your little boy curling up against him just like he had been curled up to you.

"Does this mean you get to go home?", Matilda asked, hugging you properly as you sat down on the bed with her, "not for a few days still, they just need to make sure Fraser is alright", you informed, "then we can go home and the four of us are going to have loads of fun", you smiled.

.

"Tilly, can you help me here, please?", Lando called as her footsteps approached your bedroom, "can you get me that bedding from the drawer, please?", Lando asked as he held the mattres up, not wanting to miss the exact placement of the sheet, "thank you, baby, you're such a clever girl", he complimented, folding the corner in and letting the mattress fall back into place.

"When mummy comes home tonight, is Fraser coming with her?", she wondered, touching the next to me bassinet you kept in your room for the baby to sleep in the first few months, "yes, he is, he's finally good and big enough to come home, no more hospital visits", Lando sighed. The last couple of weeks were hard. Juggling things on his own made him even more appreciative of you and the efforts you made to make sure everything was smoothly running in the house, as well of your friends and family who suported your family in every way they could.

"That's going to be nice, the hospital smells funny", she scrunched up her nose, "and it's going to be like before but with baby Fraser?", she wondered.

"At first mummy will need our help in many things - she still has some recovery to do, but then it will be back to normal, yes", Lando offered, "and we'll have Fraser to go with us in our adventures".

"I can't wait to show him my soft blankets and my toys", she beamed, helping Lando with the bed and then getting ready to pick you up from the hospital.

"Thank you again for all of your work and dedication, we truly can't say it enough for all you've done for our family", Lando said to the team as they discharged you from the hospital, waving at Fraser in his carrier as he looked around.

By the time the four of you were back home, you ate dinner on the sofa, Matilda cuddled up to your side while Fraser slept in your chest, Lando holding the four of you in his embrace as much a she could, "we're finally all together", you smiled, "the Norris family is all together in one place we it should be", he said, kissing your lips softly, hand coming to rest on top of yours in Fraser's back as Matilda smiled up at you, "this is the best day ever", she murmured.

Post partum blurb

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #dad!lando x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

[steddiewithachance]

Vampire Pancakes

A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire

🥞🫐

No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.

Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.

Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.

Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.

"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"

Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.

"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."

So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.

Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.

Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.

Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.

He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.

🥞🫐

It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.

"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.

"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.

"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.

Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.

He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.

"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.

"Not even a little."

Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.

"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.

"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"

"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.

"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.

"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."

Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.

"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.

"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

🥞🫐

In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.

The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.

Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.

He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.

"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.

"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.

"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.

Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.

"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.

"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.

"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.

Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."

And it feels like things are gonna be okay.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie fluff #soft steve harrington #steve harrington is a sweetheart #kas eddie munson #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie x steve #writing prompt #steddie microfic

[literaila]

slip-up

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi says something he's not supposed to

warnings: bit of sad megumi (same babe), gojo is a terrible comforter, reader doesn't get a lot of screen time but she's always there, a good lack of conflict resolution

a/n: the one-shot that started this series. i figured it was time to give it up

last part | next part

*

year four.

megumi doesn't notice the slip-up right when he says it. he's not even really paying attention to the conversation. 

instead, he's thinking about the homework assignment he was supposed to turn in today--the one that gojo refused (couldn't) help him with. 

"my mom usually drops us off," he's telling his teacher, trying to be polite like you taught him and not start whining (like gojo taught him). "but she's out of town right now, so gojo dropped us off instead and he gets the times confused..." 

in all honesty, megumi could blame this whole thing on gojo. because it was his fault. 

usually, you woke him and tsumiki up, pulling on his hair when he whined into the pillows, packing their lunches while they both sat at the table, eating cereal or tamagoyaki. usually, you reminded megumi to tuck in his shirt and helped the two of them get their books together, taking an occasional moment to shout at megumi's budget dad to get up before he was late. usually, you walked them to the door, kissing them both goodbye and watching both of them until they closed the door. 

later on, you'd be there again, welcoming them home with another smile, asking about their days. forcing them into a thorough recap. 

but today megumi woke up with a sore neck and gojo smiling at him, asking if he was planning on being buried in his bed. 

because even though megumi heard you tell gojo that he needed to help out, step up, the mornings while you were gone, all of you should've known better. 

megumi hasn't even ever seen gojo out of bed before nine-thirty. 

so here he was, with his shirt untucked, his homework missing, and a bag of lollipops that gojo packed for lunch. 

here he was, three hours late for school, trying to explain to his teacher that it wasn't his fault. 

and here he was, accidentally calling you mom. 

but megumi doesn't even realize that until his teacher smiles a little bit, telling him that she understands, asking him when his mom gets back. 

megumi freezes. 

the word repeats in his mind, and he finally realizes his slip-up. 

sure, he's heard tsumiki call you it before--because for all intents and purposes, that's what you were. after four years of your unconditional love, the two of them knew, truly, that they could depend on you. 

but megumi has never had a mom, and he doesn't now. 

so it's still gojo's fault when the first tear rolls down his cheek. which megumi promptly wipes away. he's not going to cry--he's not the sort of kid that cries. he prides himself on it, actually. not needing the same sort of attention that he's seen his classmates get, never feeling things that deeply. 

but he's crying now, and his neck still hurts as he turns away from his teacher, going to sit down at his desk. 

and megumi isn't the type of kid that cries, but when he puts his head down, his cheeks feel a little damp. 

*

megumi's got a headache now--another reason why he doesn't cry--and he sort of wants to curl up in bed until tsumiki gets home, and then convince her to run away with him. 

but he doesn't. 

when gojo unlocks the door, megumi goes through it without stopping to look around. he drags his backpack to his room--gojo watching the whole time, of course--and closes the door before the man can say anything stupid. 

he can't deal with him right now. or ever, actually. 

megumi sets his backpack up against the wall with a brief thought about homework and the class he's going to miss because of this, but he doesn't care enough to dwell on it. 

everything about him feels stiff, like glue got between the seems of his very core. 

he's ten years old. he shouldn't have to worry about anything. 

he takes off his blazer, sets it on his desk with sweaty palms, and feels quite naked--even with the layers of clothes and lack of eyes. and his head hurts. megumi wants to get up and restart his day just so he can tell some version of his former self not to be so stupid. 

but he knows that's just the guilt talking, so he ignores that too. 

and it's only ten minutes into his glooming that there's a knock on the door, and gojo doesn't knock, so megumi knows immediately that something's wrong. 

he's lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, but he leans up on his elbow when you peek your head into the room. 

for a brief moment, megumi is so relieved to see you that he almost jumps up and clings to you--like some child would. 

he wants to hold onto you and beg you not to leave again, because everything seems to go wrong when you’re not there. he wants to tell you that he’s scared, and that he’s not sure what to do.

but he refrains, and blinks idly, confused about why you're here, and why his heart hurts just from looking at you. 

“hey, you okay?” you whisper, taking a step into the dark room. you don't look banged up, and megumi wonders what gojo said to get you to come home. he probably told you that megumi was dying, or something. 

you sit on the edge of his bed, and your hand is on his forehead before megumi can blink. “you feel sick?” 

megumi nods, but his eyes don’t meet yours. it's a small enough lie. 

“i’m sorry. did satoru give you any medicine?” 

“did you have to come home for me?” 

you smile, slightly. “no, buddy, don’t worry. it was easier than they said, just a grade one. plus i kinda rushed it cause i missed you guys.” you push his hair out of his eyes, “now, medicine?”

“i don’t want any.” 

“if you don’t feel good—“ 

“actually,” he interrupts. “can—i, um, i don’t really want to talk.” 

you pause, eyes roaming over his face. “oh. okay. that’s fine.” 

you remove your hands from him immediately, walls of metaphorical space flying up between the two of you. “i’ll leave you alone. just ask if you need anything, okay? i’m going to go unpack.”

he nods and you give him a little grin. 

and right as you're at the door, he falters. he doesn’t really want you to go. he wants you to crawl into bed with him, treat him like he's actually sick, and let him lay with his head in your lap. he wants to ask you the same question that's been in his head since he said it, but he can't. 

“y/n?” he whispers, instead, your name feeling wrong in his mouth. 

“yeah?"

“will... will you get gojo?" he asks, even though it's not what he wants to say at all. "i want to talk to him.” 

“gojo?” you frown, looking at him. “yeah. of course, yeah. i’ll go get him. one sec.” 

and when you close the door, megumi feels like he’s said something wrong. slipped up again. 

he sits there and waits, feeling incorrect in his body. he wants you to come back and tell him that it'll all be fine, but he knows that you won't. if there's one thing you're good at, it's respecting boundaries. 

and megumi has a lot of them. 

gojo doesn’t knock when he comes into the room, and megumi is so lost in thought that he jumps as soon as the door clicks open. 

megumi’s neck flies as he looks at him, wide eyes. he's already sat up, preparing himself for an influx of anger. 

“is this about your lunch?” gojo asks, immediately, words fast and smooth. “because that wasn’t my fault. i thought your school did that.”

“you bought us our lunchboxes,” megumi argues, “you made me get the weird one with the dragon.” 

“do not insult dracomon like that.” 

megumi rolls his eyes. “whatever.” 

“so, you wanna talk to me, huh?" gojo sits on megumi’s desk chair, legs hanging off the sides. “i think this is the first real conversation we’ve ever had.” 

megumi rolls his eyes again. 

gojo waves a hand. "alright. what is it?" 

megumi pauses. he can't ask gojo. even if he had an answer, it would be the least trustworthy version of one. 

he scratches his neck, not sure how to lie about this. knowing that he's not supposed to lie in the first place. 

he's doing everything wrong today. 

gojo shakes his head, white hair the victim of many fashion crimes. “spit it out, kid. i just did you a huge favor, and i don’t have time for the attitude.” 

“you didn’t do anything,” megumi frowns, crossing his arms. 

gojo snorts. “you think they just say ‘come get your child’ when you’re crying at your desk?” he asks, rhetorically, and megumi’s face goes still. “no, they disrupted my nap, saying that you needed to be picked up and handed me a card for a child psychologist.” 

“they told you?” 

he nods. “and i didn’t tell y/n,” he grins, self-satisfied. “so you’re welcome.” 

“why not?” 

“because she would’ve freaked out, and i don’t need that, and i’m pretty sure you don’t want that…” 

megumi nods immediately. 

“it can stay our secret if you tell me what’s going on. i’ll edit the report when y/n asks,” then he turns, looking at the door. “even though she’s already listening in.” 

“really?” megumi bites the inside of his cheek, checking the crack under the door for feet. 

satoru kicks him. “no. she’s in her room. now, talk. i don’t know how long she’ll take.” 

megumi swallows. he doesn’t really want to ask—not his only real question—but he’s already gotten this far. 

at least it doesn't matter what he says, because no one will believe anything gojo makes up anyway. 

“megumi…” gojo prods. 

“do you know where my mom is?” 

there’s a pause. a very long pause where megumi feels like he’s being scrutinized.

he can tell that gojo is looking at him very closely, a microscope to megumi’s cell, even though he can’t see his eyes.

“i—“ gojo pulls a strand of hair by his ear. clearing his throat. “i, um, im not sure. why?” 

“no reason.” 

there’s a very weird wince on the man’s face. “do you want to… talk about them? your… parents?” 

“no,” megumi says immediately. 

gojo sighs. “look, i’ll tell you if you really want to know—“ 

“i don’t care. i just… i don’t care.” 

“…okay.” 

“okay.” 

the two of them are both lying. they have the same neck-scratching, and looking away tells. if you were in the room, you would be monitoring both of them very harshly. probably scolding them for the look on both of their faces.

gojo’s expression is so much weirder than megumi’s ever seen it. “are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” 

“i just wanted to know if you knew,” megumi says, crossing his arms, then doing it again. “i don’t care about them. they don’t care about me.” 

“well, i don’t know that—“ 

“no. you and y/n took us in and they didn’t care. so why should i?” 

“right.” gojo nods. “right we… took you in.” 

megumi nods, as a finality, and then deflates a little bit. 

he doesn’t care about his mom—whoever she is, wherever she might be. he doesn’t. he just… also doesn’t want to replace her. 

it feels wrong to think about. she doesn’t care about his life, so why should he care about hers? 

it's a stupid sort of guilt. if tsumiki said anything like it, megumi wouldn't talk to her for a week. 

but it's the sort of guilt over you, and a woman he knows nothing about. someone he doesn't really want to know about. 

maybe that makes it worse. 

“did someone say something at school?” 

megumi frowns. “no. why would they?” 

gojo shrugs. “kids are jerks,” he answers, simply, and then mutters “i would know…” under his breath, making megumi want to punch him again. 

“no one said anything.” 

“then why were you crying this morning?” 

“i wasn’t crying.” 

“hey,” gojo frowns. “crying is fine. it’s good.” 

“i know,” megumi crosses his arms. 

“okay, then.” 

megumi doesn’t even know why he wanted to talk to gojo in the first place. 

“look,” gojo sighs, his fingers tapping along the body of the chair. he whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “y/n is so much better at this,” and then meets megumi’s eyes—metaphorically, of course. everyone knows that gojo doesn’t have any eyes. “if you want to talk about your parents, we can talk about them. tsumiki asks questions every once in a while. and…” he breaks away, shaking his head. “if there’s something i don’t know, then i'll—we’ll figure it out. i’ve got eyes everywhere.” 

gojo is grinning at his little joke, but megumi’s frown deepens. 

"i don't care about them," he says, again, as a reassurance to them both. 

"they are your parents, you know?" he holds his hands up in defense, probably from the glare megumi is giving him. "i'm just saying. curiosity is normal." 

"how would you know?" 

gojo sighs, tilting his head back. he looks almost hurt. "i'm wise. i've got years of experience on you." 

"no, you don't." 

he shakes his head. "now i'm going to start crying." 

megumi stares at him. if he could trade gojo for literally anyone else in the world, he would. 

and yet, he doesn't want to talk to you about this. he doesn't want to talk at all. and he does. 

at least he knows that gojo won’t take any of this too seriously. that he won’t get to the bottom of the problem, like neither of them wants.

"do you think..." megumi starts, whispering. "do you ever regret taking us in?" 

gojo swallows. he looks almost hesitant to answer, but megumi knows that must be wrong. gojo has never hesitated a moment in his life.

"well, you guys are pretty mean to me. but no, we don't regret it. why would we?" he asks, teasing, like always. "children are for chores." 

megumi shakes his head. 

"you should--" gojo scrunches his nose. "i can get y/n. she's got better answers, anyway." 

"no!" megumi holds his hand out when the man begins to move from the chair, heart racing. "i don't want to talk to her." 

"did something happen with you guys? you think someone might mention it to me..." 

"no, nothing happened. i just... want to talk to you." 

gojo snorts, but he sits back down. "whatever you did, i'm sure it's not that bad. remember that time i set tsumiki's hair on fire when she was gone? that was bad." 

"i didn’t do anything. i'm not like you," megumi scowls, looking away. 

"would you like a reward?" gojo asks, dryly. "most people wouldn't openly admit that. i admire your confidence." 

both of them are silent, megumi considering the consequences of just saying the words out loud, nonetheless to gojo--who definitely won't know what to do with them. 

after a minute, gojo clears his throat. "okay, megumi. my turn. do you regret coming here with me? instead of going with your family? you'd be clan head someday, you know." 

"that place with the freaky shed of weapons you showed me?" 

"yup." 

"no," megumi doesn't have to think about that. "tsumiki's with me here. and i--"

i like it here, he almost slips. i love you guys.

megumi sighs. he doesn't want to say that to gojo. 

but the older man looks like he already knew what he meant, a dumb smile on his face. "good. okay. well, i don't know what's wrong with you," he gives megumi a pointed look, saying that he actually does. "but i'm sure it'll all work out. you've got me here, so there's nothing to worry about. and y/n would kill me if anything happened to you, so. don't worry about your parents, kid." 

megumi blinks at him. because his problems can be summed up with a quick "yeah, that's cool." 

he rolls his eyes. 

gojo's hand nudges his knee. "you can still ask if you want. anytime. we love you, you know? y/n more than me, but still..." 

megumi shakes his head. "well i love her more than you." 

"good. tsumiki's my favorite anyway." 

"good. she's the only one who can deal with you." 

"good," gojo retorts, like a child. 

he leans in, ruffling megumi's hair as he does it. "even if you are pretty annoying, i'll still do some research for you. see about your mom." 

"you don't have to--" 

"i can't pick you up every time you're crying in class," gojo shrugs, so simply. definitely a joke in the words, but no teasing. "and i won't tell y/n. but you should talk to her. she worries." 

"i know." 

gojo smiles. "okay. as long as you know." 

the two of them sit there for a while more, gojo making an awful comment every couple of lapses in silence, megumi answering with an equally sarcastic retort, and the two of them not minding at all. 

and megumi still can't get the question out--are you his mom?--but there's the undeinable feeling that no one else can answer it for him anyway. 

and gojo seems to know that, so he doesn't say anything about it. just lingers there, like an illness, waiting until megumi is okay, or maybe waiting for him to ask something else. 

even though megumi doesn’t want to give the man any credit, he knows that gojo understands a lot more than he lets on. and, just from the weird little prideful looks he gives him every time he says something, megumi knows that he probably gets what this is about.

but if gojo isn’t going to say anything, then neither is he.

still, it’s nice to have him here.

there’s no comforting glances, or squeezing of hands with gojo. no acute words and adept gestures.

megumi has never expected gojo to overcome his tendency towards immaturity, or to become something that he’s simply not.

but there is just this. just the man who’s been there for long enough for megumi to notice. to understand that he’s not going away so easily.

and it’s nice to have you both. (megumi won’t admit that the gratitude he has for his makeshift parents is much stronger, more vehement than any worry about biology, or being left behind).

eventually, megumi's eyes begin to droop, and even though his headache is less stress-induced, it's still there, a gentle pounding at his skull. 

like a reminder that things are going to change, even if he doesn't want them to. that he's growing up, and he can't protect everyone from his emotions forever. 

but megumi doesn't have enough energy to think about it. so he lays down against his pillows, eyelids fluttering open and closed. 

and he can just see it when gojo sneaks out of the room, whistling softly as he leaves, purposefully leaving the door open. 

megumi should've gone to live with that clan. 

*

"hey," you stand from your chair, looking not at satoru, but behind him, like the essence of their conversation is going to follow him through the door. "what'd he want? is he okay?" 

you dance on your feet awkwardly, looking like you were waiting that whole time (you were). 

satoru smiles, leaning on the counter to stare at you, at your nervous little lip bite. "he's fine." 

"is he feeling really sick? he told me he didn't want any medicine, but if he's got a headache or something, then i could give him a pain reliever. did he seem bad? should we take him to the doctor? i can probably schedule an appointment--" 

you're cut off by satoru as he nears you, crushing you against his chest in a hug so tight that it knocks the air from your lungs. 

seriously, jujutsu sorcerers and their sheer amount of muscle training are ridiculous. 

"satoru--" you squeeze out, but he holds you even tighter. 

"it's all good," he says like it's an answer, and he sounds like he knows something that you don't. probably because he does. 

but after a moment you relax into him. even if you have to bribe him with cuddles, someone's going to tell you what's going on... 

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x you #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #a typical family #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk x you

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Can’t Help Falling In Love - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: -> When your newborn daughter can't sleep one night, Bradley knows just what to do.

A/N: Here’s a little blurb I did for @ohtobeleah’s Galentine’s Day challenge 🩷 This song is one that I sang/sing to my own baby, so I felt really inspired to just write some wholesome fluff with Bradley as a new dad singing it to his baby, and his wife 🩷

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x fem! reader

warnings/content: sickly sweet fluff with Bradley as a new dad and being romantic.

word count: 1k

“Shall I stay, would it be a sin, if I can’t help falling in love with you?”

You padded down the hallway to where the sound of your husband’s soft, melodic voice was echoing from. You entered your infant daughter’s room and smiled softly as you saw Bradley cradling baby Sawyer in his arms, humming softly to her as he kissed her head. You stood in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame as you looked on, Bradley none the wiser as you watched him comfort your baby.

“Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Bradley shut his eyes delicately as he held Sawyer’s tiny body close to his chest, continuing to hum the notes of his favorite Elvis song in a soft, hushed tone as he rocked back and forth in an effort to lull his sweet girl to sleep. Bradley turned towards the door and opened his eyes to see you. His expression softened, melting into a sweet, content smile, his amber coloured eyes gazing at you from behind his thick, dark eyelashes that you’d always been envious of.

“Hi honey, sorry, Sawyer didn’t wanna go down, was just tryin’ to sing her to sleep. My mom used to sing this to me when I was a kid, she always swore it worked. Guess my dad used to sing it too,” Bradley huffed a soft, melancholic sigh as he thought back to his own father and how he had so little to remember him by, having passed just a month after Bradley turned two.

“It was sweet, I love hearing you sing,” you murmured quietly as you cozied up to Bradley’s side, smiling softly while you pressed your lips against his cheek in a tender, loving kiss.

“I think Sawyer likes hearing me too, she settled right down while I was singing to her.”

“That’s because you’re soothing her. She loves you and loves the sound of your voice, feeling you hold her close, it makes her feel safe.”

“It does?”

“Mhmm, you bet it does.”

Bradley smiled proudly as he glanced over at you, still hugging Sawyer close to his bare chest. Stroking her back gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead once again, gently kissing her as she snored softly. His pajama pants hung low on his waist, his toned, tan skin dotted with freckles. He never slept with a t-shirt on to begin with, but the minute he read that letting a newborn sleep on your bare chest was beneficial to the baby, he started to forgo wearing one at home at all. He dove all in, head first, the moment he found out you were pregnant, determined to be the kind of father his dad would be proud of, the kind of father his dad would have been if he’d had a chance to do it for more than two years.

Baby and parenting books had begun appearing throughout your home shortly after you’d told him, multiplying slowly, one by one as they began to collect on the shelf, magazines about raising children suddenly coming in the form of subscriptions to your door on a monthly basis. Bradley had begun coming home from a day of training, spouting off new ideas for names, suggesting whatever he heard or came across that day. He was as involved as anyone could hope for, his determination to be someone who made you proud, made his baby proud, and would have made his parents proud serving as a driving force to motivate him. On one occasion, you came home from spending a day out in the city to find every piece of nursery furniture perfectly assembled, waiting for your direction as to where you wanted it placed. As nervous as Bradley was about making you proud, there was never a single doubt in your mind about it - he was meant to be an excellent father, just like he was meant to be an excellent pilot. It was just who he was.

Bradley gently laid Sawyer down to sleep in her crib, smiling down at her as she stirred for a second, holding his breath as he hoped she stayed sleeping. As she continued to snore softly, he exhaled, relieved she was still sound asleep. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body in close to his as you both watched Sawyer in complete awe, almost unable to believe something so small and sweet could have come from either of you.

“Now, Mrs. Bradshaw, we’ve forgotten something important about today,” he whispered softly, stroking your hair as he tucked it behind your ear, his touch delicate and gentle.

“Hmm?”

“Valentine’s Day. We forgot it. I didn’t even remember to bring flowers home for you.”

“We did? Are you sure?”

“Positive. February 14th.”

You stifled a laugh as you shook your head, smiling at Bradley as he showed you today’s date on his phone screen. He kissed your forehead gently, his lips hovering for a moment as he hummed.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s no need. Sawyer’s a pretty great Valentine’s Day gift.”

“She’s two months old, hun, I don’t think you having our baby counts as your gift.”

“Sure she does. You just gave her to me a little early.”

“More like you gave her to me. I didn’t do much.”

You extended your hand out to stroke Bradley’s cheek fondly, beaming as your eyes met his.

“You gave me her. Without you, I wouldn’t have Sawyer. And I wouldn’t have a loving, wonderful husband either. And, I wouldn’t get to hear you sing all the time.”

“Oh, you like the singing?” Bradley smirked, playfully whispering as he led you out of the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind you.

“I do, in fact.”

“Well then, honey—“ Bradley began before taking a breath and beginning to sing once more.

“Wise men say, ‘only fools rush in’, but I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #leahsgalentinesdayspecial

[navybrat817]

The Dad Diaries: Checkup

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Jamie is a little fussy after his doctor appointment and Bucky continues to admire your strength. Word Count: Over 1.8k Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), parenthood, tired parent, shots / needles referenced, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Next part of The Dad Diaries! Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was in the kitchen rinsing off the dishes from dinner when he heard a wailing cry break through the peaceful evening. He dried his hands and told himself not to rush toward the nursery as all other sounds faded into the background, but his feet moved quickly anyway. His body seemed to move on instinct when it came to you and your son since the two of you were his world. And he would do whatever he could to keep you safe and happy.

Another cry rang out as Bucky got to the hall. Somehow, and it must have either been some form of magic or your motherly instinct to comfort your baby, you beat him to the nursery. “It’s okay, Jamie. Mama's here,” you soothed as you carefully picked your son up and cradled him against your chest. “Shh,” you whispered in his ear, your eyes closing as the cries began to get a little softer.

It broke the former sergeant’s heart a bit each time he heard his son cry. He knew you felt the same way. You were empathetic and protective before you had Jamie, but his cries increased your emotions.

A smile touched Bucky's lips as he observed the two of you, his heart warm and full. The longer you held Jamie, the quieter he became. He curled against you like all he needed was the warmth of your loving embrace. In return, you held him like you had the whole world in your hands.

Love would always show up in the ordinary moments because you made them extraordinary.

As touching as the sight was, Bucky sensed how tired you were. He saw it in the slightly strained smile you gave him when you opened your eyes and the way your body sagged as you swayed back and forth to soothe Jaime. You hadn't gotten nearly enough rest today and completely missed your nap after nursing earlier. That wouldn’t do.

Not on his watch.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly enough to not spook Jamie. “Need me to take him?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve got him,” you replied as your son gripped your shirt with his tiny hand, a silent message to his dad to let him snuggle with his mom a little bit longer. “He’s just a little fussy.”

Bucky nodded as he walked into the room. The doctor warned them to expect some fussiness over the next couple of days thanks to his appointment. “But he isn’t in any pain?” He asked, hurt flooding his blue eyes just from imagining it.

Your gaze softened as you shook your head. “Not that I can tell,” you said. Both of you were observant when it came to Jamie. You picked up on cues and looked for anything out of the ordinary. “I think he’s okay.”

That helped Bucky breathe a bit easier. “And you’re sure I can't take him so you can get some rest?” He asked, not wanting to push, but also a second away from telling you to sit in the rocking chair. You headed toward it and carefully took a seat before he could open his mouth again, as if you sensed what he was about to say.

“I’ll take a nap in a few minutes,” you promised, giving him another small smile. “I just want to hold him a little bit longer.”

Bucky conceded as he put a blue blanket over both of you. Soft and covered in stars, it would keep you both warm. “I still can't believe how big he’s getting,” he said, brushing a finger along his son's soft cheek.

How was it a month already since he blessed your lives?

“Big and strong,” you said, glancing down with a fond smile before looking up again. “Just like his daddy.”

Bucky’s cheeks tinged from the compliment. “He's strong because of his mommy. And beautiful.”

You fought a yawn, but he saw the happiness in your eyes at his words. “He gets that from both of us.”

Jamie scrunched his face before he nuzzled his head against you with a tiny sound, making the brunette chuckle. “Okay, okay. Enjoy your snuggles with your Mama,” he whispered as he bent down and kissed the top of his son’s soft head. He stilled for a moment as he let his soothing scent wash over him. “I’ll be in my office.”

“Okay. I’ll call for you when I’m done,” you said, shutting your eyes when he kissed the top of your head, too.

He dimmed the lights once he crossed the room, but stopped to look back and observe the tender moment between you two a bit longer. It was picture perfect and had his heart swelling again before he went to his office. His journal awaited him at his desk and he got to work with his latest entry.

Hey, Nugget, You’re currently cuddled up with your mom in the nursery and I don’t blame you for soaking up the snuggles. It was a big day for you! Your one month checkup. I still can’t believe it’s been a month since you came into our lives. It seems like yesterday.

Is it too early to say I want time to slow down?

I'm happy to report that you are on track. Your height and weight are on the charts where they should be. You're hitting the usual milestones, which came as no surprise to me. You are my son after all.

A joke. I'm a little more humble than that. I think you're on track because of your Mama, but she’ll argue and say it’s because of both of us. Either way, the pediatrician didn’t look at all surprised that you were doing well. The receptionist and nurses also fawned over how adorable you are.

Again, you got that from your Mama, even if she says again that you got it from both of us.

Bucky stole a glance at the monitor where you continued to rock Jamie in the chair. He had to smile at the sight. You weren’t quite asleep, but were dangerously close. He’d have to finish up his entry quickly so he could get you to bed.

I’ll be honest. I wasn’t sure about the pediatrician at first. I think he directed most of your questions to your mom since I kept glaring at him. I couldn’t help myself. We did a lot of research to make sure you’d get the best care possible. Even though he’s highly recommended and probably one of the nicest men I’ve ever met in my life, you’re my son and it’s hard to hand you over to someone else to care for you.

Except for your Mama. She is always the exception to the rule.

Bucky let out a breath, gripping the pen a bit tighter.

I knew going into the appointment today that you would have to get a couple of shots. Needles don’t exactly scare me and I knew it was for your own good, but I never hated them until today. I must’ve given the nurse a dirty look, too, because she avoided looking at me and asked your mom to hold you still so she could administer the shots. In fact, I know I glared because your mom elbowed my side and whispered, “Stop that. They’re helping our son.”

You’ll learn later in life that your mom is always right.

I still did my best to stay calm and distract you by making a funny face. I didn't want you to sense that I was worried, but I was because I knew you’d be in pain. And even though the pain would only last for a second, I knew I was powerless to stop it.

At that moment, I was helpless.

He swallowed as he recalled the piercing scream Jamie let out when the needle pricked his thigh. It twisted his gut so painfully that he feared he’d get sick and he had to refrain from taking him away from the nurse. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to the shots or cries with any of the upcoming appointments.

It should come as no surprise that your mom continued to be a pillar of calm and strength as the nurse gave you two shots and applied your band aids. Whereas I was like a wave crashing against the shores in my mind, she was the rock that braved the storm and didn’t budge. She told you how big and strong you were, like me, when she picked you up and your cries eventually stopped as she held you against her chest.

I wonder if it was her voice that calmed you down. It could’ve been her smell. She does smell good. Maybe her touch. Her heartbeat. Probably everything.

We both love her so much.

Bucky wondered if the shots bothered you more than let on. Maybe that was why you were so keen to hold him even though you needed sleep. Maybe you needed the comfort as much as your son did.

As I watched her hold you, it took me a moment to breathe again so I could try and provide some sort of comfort to you. As your father, I want to protect you from the pain of the world. But pain is the body’s warning system to protect us from harm and sometimes inevitable. Today reminded me that I won’t always be able to protect you from it and that I can’t let my negative emotions or fear get in the way of helping you after. It’s another reason why I admire your mother.

She validated your pain, but stayed strong for you because you needed that. It’s something that I’m still learning. It doesn’t make me any less of a good dad because of that. There’s no manual for dealing with these emotions. We just have to figure out how to weather the storm.

Because we’re strong apart, but even stronger together.

“Bucky?” You asked, your voice gently ringing out through the monitor. “It’s your turn.”

He smiled before jotting one more thing down.

And if you’re ever hurting or just need a helping hand, I’ll be there.

Until next time, I love you.

Always,

Dad

Bucky didn’t hesitate to go to the nursery once he finished up to take his son from your arms, a look of understanding passing between the two of you. Parenting was an emotional rollercoaster full of ups and downs and twists and turns. Being a father was one of the hardest jobs he’d ever had, but it was also the most rewarding. He still didn’t really know what he was doing, but he was trying and didn’t have to go through it alone.

And as Jamie leaned into him with you resting close by, that was the best reward he could ask for today.

Bucky is doing a wonderful job. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #dad!bucky barnes x reader #the dad diaries au #bucky barnes #dad!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fic #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

[norrisleclercf1]

Okay okay I love dad!Fernando but switch the roles around with single mom!reader and Fernando. Reader not telling him at first cause she doesn't want to scare him. Fernando just spoiling the hell out of the two of them

Warnings: Fluff, that's it just fluff

Not telling him in the beginning probably wasn't smart of you, yet he was the most important man in your life.

Of course, if you said that, people would think it'd be your boyfriend Fernando Alonso, infamous F1 driver. But, that wasn't the case. The most important man in your life was you 4 year old toddler, Damon.

No one knew of him, which you made sure to keep to yourself, not even your boyfriend of 8 months knew of your son. Damon's father wasn't in the picture. Not because he had left you pregnant, but he passed away when Damon was just a little thing.

People would judge you for not telling Fernando, but you were terrified to introduce Fernando to him. Worried he'd leave you the moment he found out you're a single mother to a 4 year old.

"Why don't you ever invite me over?" Fernando's question wasn't one of anger or anything, just curiosity. Biting your bottom lip you think about telling him, that your little boy was home with your best friend.

"I....." "If you're married, you can say that." Fernando did sound bitter that time, you can't help the laugh that breaks out in the car, as he parks in front of your driveway. ""I....." "If you're married, you can say that." Fernando did sound bitter that time, you can't help the laugh that breaks out in the car, as he parks in front of your driveway.

"I'm not married Fernando. Just, I haven't told you something that might cause us to break up." You whisper climbing out of the car, Fernando following you.

"Whatever it is, I highly doubt it could break us." He smiles grabbing your hand. "Just know, that when we walk through this door, you're about to meet the most important person in my life. If you don't approve you're leaving. Understand." It wasn't a question as Fernando nods.

He was utterly clueless to what it could be, that you lied about for almost a year, but at this point you could be married but he honestly wouldn't care. He loved you.

Your friend opens the door first and glares at Fernando. "Oh hey, Nila." You smile but she pays you no mind, if she could Fernando would be on fire right now. "Hurt them, and I'll ruin that ugly green car." She hisses and spins on her heel stomping back into the house.

"Ugly?" Fernando whispers as he follows you into the house. Looking around he smiles, how it feels like a home. He kicks something and looks down, seeing a toy firetruck and raises an eyebrow.

He stops when his eyes clash with a picture of you and this little boy, give or take 5 years old. He was all yours, he'd know those eyes and mouth anywhere. He loved those eyes and mouth.

"You're a mother." He picks up the picture studying it, you freeze and see him holding the picture. Your heart stops. Not because he was furious, but he was smiling. "I am." You whisper, gently prying the picture from his hands.

"Can I meet him?" Fernando's excitement getting the better of him. "Wait no, I'll meet him when you're comfortable with it, and he is. Shit, should I have brought something. I can meet him tomorrow. That way he isn't shocked, and I have a stuffy." You giggle seeing this grown man freak out about impressing a toddler.

"He knows about you, Nando. He's four, name is Damon. His father died when he was young, doesn't remember him. He likes firetrucks and the color red." You smile setting the picture where it belongs.

"Does he know what I do?" Fernando asks, curious if he could win the mini you over that way. "Yes, he says it's loud and boring." Fernando's smile fades as he glares at you. "Well, that will change in the future." You try hard to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, but that proves hard to do.

"Come on, let's meet Damon." Pulling him deeper into your home.

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

"Do not, tell your mother I bought it." Fernando whisper to the now 6 year old, soon to be his stepson, well he didn't consider Damon his stepson, that was his little boy.

"I won't daddy. Mama is still mad you bought her a new house." Damon holds the mini Ferrari car close, red was still his favorite color, which influenced him heavily in his choice of favorite team.

"That's my boy." Picking Damon up, he kisses his cheek.

Fernando was all in when he first walked into that house 2 years ago, of course he still argues with Damon that it's not boring. Of course the 6 year old doesn't find it boring when Charles or Carlos are winning, but that was an ongoing argument.

"Daddy?" Fernando hums gathering their bags, as they just got back home from a race. Fernando loved spoiling you two like crazy, taking you on crazy vacations, toys, houses, cars.

He wanted his family to have everything and he did give you everything. "Can we go see the red cars again?" His eyes growing wide, giving puppy dog eyes.

He groans, knowing that Damon needed to go to kindergarten, but saying no to him was very hard. "Yes, just don't tell you Mama." He tickles him.

"Don't tell me what?" Both your boys freeze hearing your voice as Fernando turns around slowly.

"Nothing." They both say smiling, you swear that Damon wasn't Fernando's, but fuck were they carbon copies sometimes.

"Good." You smile and skip down kissing them both on the lips. You all talk about the race, you happy to have your boys home that you don't even see the new toy.

When you put Damon to bed, is when you notice it and shake your head. Walking out you wrap your arms around Fernando's waist face pressed into his back as he washes his mouth.

"I love you." You whisper, Fernando's heart speeds up, always does when you say those words. "Also, want to explain why our son has a new, very expensive mini Ferrari, and why he said he was going to the next race with you?" Fernando turns and kisses you.

"I love you, so much, did you know that? You're a goddess." You walk away as Fernando spews out praises and compliments knowing he'd be paying for this later.

Stupid Damon and his 6 year old mouth.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #fernando alonso x reader #fernando imagine #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #fernando alonso one shot #fernando alonso x you #fernandon alonso fluff #f1 fluff #f1 one shot

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Bonus Drabble 1

Summary: An encounter with a cashier leaves Jungkook ready to cause a scene Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 1K~ Warning: Explicit and suggestive language. Jungkook threatens to kill someone but like not really lol that's pretty much it a/n: This was an ask I got but both the anon and I'm sure a bunch of you love seeing jealous Jungkook so here's a short chapter of something that happened after they started dating 🤭 p.s. written in one sitting and barely edited Start from the beginning

"Can you wait in line for a second Darling? I forgot I needed to get one more thing" Jungkook asks me and I nod my head, humming as he places a kiss on my temple and rushes off to another part of the store.

While I wait mindlessly in line I end up getting lost in the different covers of magazines that are displayed around me in line. Leaving me obvious as to the fact that the cashiers have been switched out. Now having changed from a older man to one who's closer to my age that has been shamelessly checking me out since he laid his eyes on me.

Once I get closer to the front of the line I start to get a little antsy, seeing as Jungkook hasn't come back yet and I had forgotten my purse in the car. Lucky for me though there's no one else behind me in line so I won't have to worry about holding someone up.

"Did you find everything alright miss?" the man asks, having his eyes tracing up and down my figure after he finished helping the customer before me.

"Oh um, yes I did thanks. I'm just waiting for my boyfriend to come back" I point out, quickly seeing the look in his eyes.

I turn around and get on my tippy toes as if that would aide me in finding him faster but I can't seem to spot him anywhere.

I turn back around to face the cashier and notice that he's started to scan each item slower and slower and I'm not sure if it's his plan to keep me here longer or to prevent an awkward lull in the process.

Once he's scanned the last item and is ready to accept payment I look back at him and awkwardly laugh and he gives me a crooked smile in return.

"So about this boyfriend of yours, are things pretty serious? Because if you were mine I would never do something like this to you. Always make sure to keep you close and comfortable" he says, dropping his voice an octave, clearly trying his hand at seducing me.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself" I say and pull out my phone to pay instead, deciding that I'll just have Jungkook pay for whatever else he went to look for separately.

Once the cashier cues the system up for me to pay I feel a hand on my waist and relax, knowing exactly who it is.

"Add this one too" Jungkook says, coming back with my favorite ice cream that we had ran out of a few days ago.

The cashier clears his throat and cancels the payment, quickly adding on said item to the total before cueing up the system again and Jungkook places his card on the reader to pay.

"I thought I'd lost you" I say, laughing awkwardly while the cashier packs up our groceries. "I told you I'd be back. I just couldn't find it because you like the most random flavors that are placed in the weirdest of sections" he teases, placing a quick kiss on my lips.

He glares back up at the cashier who is nervously watching our exchange and audibly gulps once Jungkook cocks a brow at him.

"Next time, take a second before you start thinking with your dick alright?" Jungkook growls out, clearly holding himself back but needing to say something regardless.

"Yes sir" is the only response the cashier gives him, bowing his head as a means of apology but it still doesn't sit right with Jungkook leaving me having to physically usher him out of the store.

"Are you okay?" he asks once we're at his car, loading up the groceries after he's taken a second to calm down.

"I'm fine, although I'm glad that you came when you did. I was beginning to think he was going to try to ask me for my number or something" I say and I watch as Jungkook tongues his cheek, knowing that I probably should've kept some of this interaction to myself.

"Did you tell him you have a boyfriend?" he asks, placing the last bags in the trunk and shutting it a tiny bit harder than he usually would.

"Yeah but he didn't seem to care, asked if we were really that serious" I say, digging his grave deeper and deeper.

"I'm gonna kill him" he growls, making moves to head back inside and I run after him not being able to keep up with his long strides any other way and yank on his arm.

"No come on, let's just go. I'm perfectly fine alright. Let's just go home. Please?" I ask, making sure to add a little more pout than I usually would. A tactic that I hope will work to get him to calm down and forget about it.

He takes a deep breath and nods his head, letting me lead him back to the car and he opens the door for me but before I get in he put a hand on my waist and leaves me frozen in place.

"When we get home I'm gonna show you just how serious I am about you. Okay Bunny?" he asks, posed as more of a threat than anything else leaving me shivering, thinking about what I've gotten myself into.

I let out a choked back 'okay' before he slaps my ass and tells me to get in the car leaving me already clenching, dying to know what he's going to do to me

When he sits in the drivers side beside me he starts the car and places a hand on the back of my seat looking out the back window to help him back out before switching gears back into drive.

He immediately places his hand on my thigh, sliding it up my skirt and starts tracing patterns on the inside of my thigh, driving me absolutely insane from just these simple touches.

I'm fucked.

Hopelessly, painfully, deliciously fucked and I can't help but count the minutes until we get home.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts #kpop fanfic #ask #jungkook bts #jungkook x original character #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #just take it #jti

[shogunish]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼𝘀 & 𝗶. [𝟬𝟭]

pairing. single dad!/dilf! gojo x f! reader

genre. fluff, comfort, slice of life

contents. megumi is gojo's biological son, non-curse! au, language

words. 1.4k

summary. when satoru struggles as a single dad, he's more than thankful when the new neighbor wants to help him out.

note. just a fun little series that i talked with @cinnamonmon about 🫂 also i'm not dead, just lurking in the shadows

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

previous || next

when you move into your new apartment, you never expect the sadness of a child to fill the dead of night. soft sobs seep through the walls that are as thin as paper, it seems. otherwise, you wouldn't wake up with heavy eyes and half the mind to silently complain about the kid crying next door. with a groan, you check the time: 11 pm. you let your head drop back into the plush of your pillows, arm draped over your eyes as a sigh slips your lips.

sure, it's normal for children to cry, you know that much, but you would give the world up if it meant that the kid shut–

the sound of a key opening a door catches your attention. is the kid's parent just now coming home from work? that is either irresponsible or a very tragic situation. either way, you swing your legs out of bed, quietly approach the wall separating you from your neighbor and press your ear against it.

such matters are none of your business. and yet, your heart breaks.

"there, there. papa is here now, buddy." satoru speaks in soft tones as he enters megumi's room and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. the mattress dips underneath his weight.

white hair is a mess, the toe around his neck loose and a couple of buttons popped open. satoru is as tired as megumi looks.

"where were you? i've waited all day for you, papa." megumi is quick to crawl into his father's arms, burying his face in satoru's chest where he sobbed quietly and refused to let go of his dad. it's likely one of those nights in which satoru would share the bed with megumi, his little bundle of joy (even though the boy is scowling most of the time).

in that moment, satoru hugs megumi a little bit tighter as if it could make up for lost time, hoping that his true feelings somehow got through to the little kid in his arms.

failure is the only thing satoru ever feared when he became a dad and he feels like he's doing a phenomenal job at neglecting his son. satoru wants to be there for megumi, for him to have a good life filled with even better memories and friends, but here he was, crying for his dad who is gone all day and night, stuck in an office that keeps him prisoner every fucking day. it's not fair, he thinks.

a father is supposed to raise his child, love and nurture it, yet..and yet..

you swear you can hear the voice of the man living next door choke up like he is on the verge of tears himself.

when satoru hears three gentle knocks in the morning, he expects the old hag to be behind the door, telling him to control his son or else she'd file a noise complaint. but instead, a pretty woman stands there, a nervous look on your face and a platter of homemade cookies in your shaky hands.

right..the new neighbor who moved in just a couple of days ago. satoru hasn't seen you around before, but you certainly are a sweet thing, looking all shy and nervous. if he didn't think you're there to complain about megumi crying last night, he'd smirk at you and maybe flirt a little bit.

"hey, uhm..i know this might be weird, but may i talk to you for a second?" your voice is soft like velvet and yet, satoru can't help but believe that your next words would be against his son. because of him.

quickly, you lift up the platter of freshly made cookies and let a smile tug at the corners of your lips. "oh yeah, i made cookies, too!"

satoru can't quite make sense of why exactly you show up at his doorstep in the morning, but you..don't look like trouble if you bring cookies. "..sure, come in."

with a nod of your head, you thank satoru and enter the surprisingly cozy home. pictures of megumi and satoru hang on the walls, shelves are filled with books, photographs and souvenirs from travels. it doesn't take a genius to see that the furniture is rather expensive and you silently wonder just how much satoru earns to be able to afford it. maybe you shouldn't touch anything. just in case.

you're ripped out of your thoughts when a wet snout sniffs you and you're greeted by two dogs, one with black fur, one with pristine white fur. just behind them stands megumi who regards you with a somewhat unimpressed look; completely different from the child you heard last night.

smiling, you offer megumi a warm cookie and kneel down to his height. he is an adorable little thing, you think to yourself. "here, have one. but don't let the dogs eat them. chocolate is bad for them, you know?"

the boy looks at his father who nods at him and finally takes the cookie. "thank you..," he mutters and is quick to hide the candy from his dogs that were already regarding him with those infamous puppy eyes. you can't help but laugh.

a smile tugged at the corners of satoru's lips at the view. affectionately, he ruffled through megumi's hair. "go play with the dogs, megumi. the adults need to talk, okay?"

negumi..pouts. "..fine.." even though he doesn't look too satisfied with his father's words, megumi calls his dogs, kuro and shiro, and goes outside in the garden.

once megumi is out of earshot, satoru's face morphs into a more serious expression. sitting down on the couch, he offers you the seat next to him, cerulean eyes stare at you over the rim of his pitch black shades. "so? what is it you wanted to talk about…?"

"[name]," you fill the gap with a kind smile on your lips, putting the platter of cookies on the coffee table. you don't quite know where to start. your concerns, your offer..it is more than just odd. a beat of silence fills the air while you fidget with your fingers, but satoru doesn't seem to mind as he allows you to gather your thoughts.

"it might sound really weird, but..i heard megumi cry last night and..," you trail off, pausing. "..it sounded like you were struggling.."

"..huh..?" satoru's eyes widen at your words. his cool exterior..it cracked.

you suddenly go on an awkward ramble, telling satoru about how megumi woke you up at 11 pm, how you heard the key in the lock and decided to listen in. "what i'm trying to say is.." a soft sigh slips your lips. "..i don't think you're doing this on purpose and if there's something, anything i can do to help.."

satoru glances outside where megumi plays with the dogs, crumbs of your cookies around his mouth and the ghost of a smile on his little features. giving his little treasure into the care of a stranger should be a no-go for any father who loved their child, but..you look like you really wanted to help with those round eyes of yours staring at him so pleadingly. if you hadn't been genuine, you wouldn't be sitting on his couch and offering your help.

a small, humorless laugh escapes satoru's throat. "megumi's mom left me right after he was born. balancing a full-time job with a kid..it makes me feel like i'm the worst father to walk this earth."

satoru took off his shades, letting you see the sky in his eyes. he pushes his messy bangs back, sighs and even though he still looks stressed, the tension in his shoulders leaves as if he shed a small part of the burden placed upon him.

"i don't think you're a bad father. just an overworked one who needs a hand." and when you say those words in a voice so warm that it rivaled honey, satoru can't help but see the light at the end of a tunnel.

at least one person knows he's trying for megumi. even if that person is a stranger, it felt..good to be seen and heard. just what are you, satoru thought. heavensent? an angel? too good to be true? maybe all of the above.

"..do you think you could watch over megumi tomorrow?"

a grin settles down on your features, crinkles the edges of your eyes and lets a little blush bloom on the apples of your cheeks. "of course!"

taglist. @ayanominitrash, @torusmochi

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #fic. the gojos & i