BEING THE DOCTOR IN CHARGE OF TAKING CARE OF HOMELANDER
Watched all of the boys sighhhh oh baby homelander if only you were raised on the kent family farm
“My goodness, John, you are such a genius,” you say, clapping your hands together as you watch the little blond-haired wonder spell his own name with the alphabet blocks surrounding him. You were tasked with a simple job taking care of and monitoring the development of every supe baby within Vought’s compound laboratory. It’s not a very fitting nursery for children, but then again, they’re not children. They’re experiment little test subjects meant to be done with as you please and as you will.
If the children aren’t able to control their powers or themselves, they’re disposed of. If they’re moving too slowly in development, also disposed of. Most would think of this as heartless and cruel, but attachment is dangerous. You don’t want any connection to these children. They don’t belong to anyone. They’re experiments, and that is all.
“All right, how about you spell my name?” you coo in that soft, sing-song tone all children seem to love. Such simple creatures, yet capable of learning so much in under a minute. It’s fascinating how easily they put their trust in the first person who shows them kindness and warmth.
You watch John intently as he spells your name. He’s only three, yet his cognitive skills are remarkable for his age. He’s growing up fast, and he’s growing up skilled all thanks to your work. A small part of you feels proud, but forming attachments is something you can’t afford. You made that mistake once. You can’t make it again.
“Oh my, oh my, you are the smartest boy in the world, John!”
The little boy giggles at the praise, his wide gummy smile chilling and endearing all at once. A tiny tooth pokes out as he laughs. My cute baby, you think for a fleeting moment. A very cute baby. But that’s not what you’re here for.
He reaches out, making small grabby hands toward you. Most mothers would instinctively give in and scoop the child into a hug but you are not his mother, and you are not his savior. You slowly shift away. You should know better by now. Affection is unnecessary.
“No, no, no. Bad boy, John. What did I say about hugging? It’s not allowed.”
The poor thing’s smile drops, his lip wobbling as if he’s about to cry. But he knows better. Throwing tantrums only makes him cough and cry harder, so he holds it in.
“But you know what you can hug? You can hug Blanky as a reward.”
You smile down at him, handing him the soft, cozy, sky-blue blanket. Just an experiment. Just an experiment. Just an experiment.
Your heart thumps as you watch him nuzzle against the soft fabric, his little hands squeezing it like it’s everything he has.
Could you please write some more mother!reader?🥹 perhaps like a headcanons for each boy?🥹❤️
in honour of mother’s day today, and because i hold mother!reader very close to me, of course i can.. and thank you!! i also used this inspired my by oc (mother to the maekarlings) so i hope you enjoy 💗 i did ones for both baelor and maekar btw :))
slipping through my fingers
summary: a collection of headcanons for you and your babies
For the Maekarlings, this is a whole lot of chaos bundled in the winding corridors of Summerhall, or wherever your journeys may take you. But despite all that these children may bring, this family is full of love and there is no doubt in anyones mind about that.
With Daeron, he is most vulnerable with you. From the nature of his dreams, they consume him, drive him to sink his cups, often times near going mad at the images that flash through his head. Though he will come to you about them before he does anyone else, he’ll seek you out just to sit down, sometimes say nothing, only find comfort in your presence. And he is reduced to but a boy again, your eldest, your first baby boy now grown, he does his best to be strong, even if you encourage him he needs not always be.
He truly listens to you, and does his best to help himself as much as he can, takes up activities that refrain him from drinking or ducking down the Streets of Silk. Daeron enjoyed riding as boy, not jousting, or playing knights, but simply riding out in the early morning mist, taking in the air before anyone else was awake. And when others aren’t around, he will take those moments with you, quiet and surrounded by greenery. He even takes it upon himself to take some parchment from the maester’s desk, attempting to sketch the landscape, to remember the moment, perhaps for his dreams. And though it had failed the first few attempts, whenever he had the chance, he framed the photograph you had made together, fondly looking over it, always.
You share laughter together like no other. It may be crude jests thrown quietly to lords or ladies in court, or the sweet kind that come from an inside joke. But you share that sense of humour, no matter how dark or stupid, you’re both getting eyes from across the feasting table when the evening has grown late, and neither of you could care any less. Between you and his father, even your gentle scolding, or assurance is comforting, and he will never challenge you on it, even if he tests your patience by dragging him to his chambers from the courtyard.
With Aerion, he respects you beyond belief. Much like he does with his father, he is on his best behaviour around you. But there are cracks of softness beneath that exterior with him that only he allows you to see, or rather, on instinct. He is careful around you, but also more content. His face softens in your presence, his fists unclench, he doesn’t slouch, he truly listens, and he does what he can to make you proud. Before every tourney, he takes a moment with you, perhaps in simple conversation, or just as you walk to stand in the Royal Box, but there is a glint in his eye that reads of honour, of wanting to do his best, if not to prove himself, but for you. And thus in return, he swears he will teach you how to properly wield a sword, and away from prying eyes, in the training yard before dawn breaks, lo and behold, the Lady of Summerhall and the Prince practice rather haphazardly in dirtied surcoats and steel. Those memories he is most fond of.
Beyond the younger ones, he takes up a lot of attention. And a lot of the time it is calculated, as the coin families favourite, you humble him, and for the most part, it works. He moves to be first, he moves to help you before others, but not out of malice or pride, simply because he can, though he says nothing — much like his father in that regard, it’s his way of giving back. He’s quickly taking your arm when you stumble, passing your cup to your side as you sit, answering the question you dared to guess of about old histories.
When he is sick, or down, he remains closest to you, and that’s the time he talks the most. It’s when he speaks of doing well, or of better, even bitterly, his melts in your embrace. He has your temperament after all, he challenges you just enough to reflect back into yourself, as much as you teach him, he makes you think. So much so you may as well curse him for it, but he is as lighthearted as he can be at the realisation, often taking off with a smirk before you can (lightly) strike him for it.
With Aemon, before he is sent off to the citadel, or with what time visits will allow, he is forever at your side. As your third, he is not plagued nor ambitious or vengeful, only the helping hand that is your little sidekick. He is the one to round up his younger siblings and helping you and their maids get them to bed after a long gathering. Or the one to politely correct you on your pronunciation of a word. The one you can rely on and yet sneak away and relax with in the libraries. He often finds you walking the corridors and strolls beside you even if for a few moments, just to ask of you and how you are, or sit down beside you on the garden benches, chatting away about everything he has been learning. There is an underlying knowing that way with you both.
When he is away, and when the loss hits the most hardest, the letters by Raven still come frequently, and no doubt he is still full of life and wonder. He mentions the small things that remind him of you, a ladies laugh, or the warmth of sun etched onto stone walls. You write back of missing him, how you wish him to be home, he is short in his vulnerability, not because he forces it, but because he simply is content that way, though deep down he does miss being home with the family.
You make up for it in the moments he is around, perhaps dragging him away from the Citadel whenever you can, or with what duty can allow. He is perhaps the quietest, one of the most intelligent of your children, and it shows in his past times. You read together mostly, scouting the flowers and herbs you found in old, dusty books just to go hunting for them in the gardens, attempting your best to make balms or teas with them. Though the first few you made were rancid, enough to make you fall into a fit of laughter. Another one of his is to tempt you to a game of Cyvasse, and he does not let up, perhaps only to slyly let you win, only once.
With Daella, your eldest girl, she is every bit the mirror of you. She is the one who wishes to copy everything you do, not annoyingly so or on purpose, only in admiration. Her eyes are wide when she looks at you, complimenting your beauty and your hair and your smile, as you do her, and she blushes proudly. Other than her septa’s and chambermaids, she is intent on you teaching her all that you know, and she takes in every word with adoration. From the proper ladylike things, like what jewellery to wear, or the correct manner to talk to which lady, or how to dance and not completely trip over. To the more cheeky things, the ones only you could teach. Like how to sneak through the castle, and which fruits are sweetest from the gardens, and one she loves the most is how to properly raise a bow, even in your dresses.
You are her inspiration, that true mix of being a lady and a warrior, she wants to be able to be both, and in her eyes, you are just that. She matches her dress colour to you on the evenings you are called upon in court, or gifts you the smaller beads of jewels she found from the market he squire brought her. She makes things for you in her daily lessons, sewing needlework of suns and dragons, or plucking the smaller summer flowers from their bushes, to place them into your hair. And as she grows ever more into a young woman, her beauty and grace speaks every bit of the love you share, the kind only that you two could have.
With Aegon, your baby Egg, you are his heart. You are the one he truly listens to and confides in. He’s a bundle of energy and softness all at once, brave beyond his years, he’s the one who makes you worry, though they all do. But you know it’s for the good of his heart, not of fear. He begs you to tell him old tales of knights and dragons, wrapping his arms around you from where you sit with a giant book in hand, or dragging you away from your ladies to show you an odd shaped gemstone he found. You spend moments at the end of most nights, long after he was meant to be in bed, standing at his balcony with him fallen into your side, stating he can only sleep so soundly if he is able to be with you under the stars. You remind him that they will not go anywhere, he pleads it anyway. And there, staring out into the night sky, balls of fire and energy burning brightly, he eventually falls asleep lulled by your voice and the steady beating of your heart.
He slows down with you around, only slightly, he knows when to push and when not to, when to run off and when to remain at your side when travelling. Though the winding corridors of King’s Landing or Summerhall may not be for him, he does what he can for you. He wears the colours, lines crimson and black and proper in his small doublet, standing vigilant at your side. And yet, when others aren’t looking, you’re both getting your hands and knees dirty by rolling around in the countryside, or sneaking away to a travelling market with your Kingsguard in tow, though paces away, just for the illusion. It raises suspicions, and it’s safe to say Maekar isn’t keen on it, but with the wide smiles on your faces, even he cannot refuse, or he cannot when you are already down the streets.
Even when he runs far off into the world, a growing boy and beside his true founded brother, Ser Duncan, you’re the one he always comes back to. The one he hides away with in the moments where the world gets loud, a small hand weaving its way into yours amid courtly chatter and loud celebrations. He even decides to take you you for one of his walks, the kind that end up with him far away from home — that’s when you had met the giant hedge knight for the first few times, much to his disgruntled embarrassment. You had waved it off, urging them on as you strolled into the countryside, sharing oat cakes on the riverbed with talks of jousts and well loved memories. It was clear after that, that you were apart of their duo, even as Dunk came with you to court, dragged into the horrid trial raised by your other son, the look you had given them both spoke of more than strangers, instead, family. The trial was no longer after that, after some convincing to your husband and brother in law. Egg hadn’t ever been so happy, nor Dunk, and in turn you share a bond that no other can break.
And lastly, with Rhae.. your youngest child, and the baby of the family. She is somewhat sweet, and somewhat mischief maker, and beyond the maids who chase after her, and Maekar who scoops her into his arms before she can throw a tantrum, you know it most. She is the one who clings to you, always resting at your hip or tugging at your sleeves mid conversation, and she does not rest, only that sweetly, devilish smile on her face. You have to stop her from learning the jests that Daeron lets slip, and the bad mouthing with crude words when others aren’t looking, she listens.. for a while.
She is the little prankster, the one out of many who gives her father grey hairs, but in your arms she somehow becomes putty in your hands, onto daring a few times to pull a joke on you, should she get away with it. Other than you doing so, she is the one to tell you stories, making up ones of you and her siblings, tales so unusual and imaginative they make you laugh fondly. And just as she’s forever resting on you, limbs a tangled mess, you or Maekar are carrying her everywhere. Like most mornings when you wake up with an apology of a maid, a small body already wedged happily between you both.
For yours and Baelor’s children, it may not be chaotic and rambunctious, but it is equally full of adoration and sweetness in the quiet sense of family. It may be smaller, but just as grand.
With Valarr, your eldest, he is the one standing valiantly beside you, and besides his father, he is your self proclaimed your sworn protector. He does what he can to make you proud, both you and Baelor, following every order asked of him without so much as question But even as a boy learning to be a man, he still carries a softness that does had not lifted, the kind you are thankful for. He does not have the same dramatics his cousins do, he knows his place, what befalls him and he plays the role well, but he allows you to see what’s underneath. There is fear there, of what, it’s not certain, but the steady weight of duty he doesn’t want to consume him. And in your presence, it seems to fall away. He is a little louder, more joyous and playful, spotting you from across the room in a knowing look. Where he asks advice for his father of council and duty and honour, he comes to you for advice on courting, on the passions he holds dear to him.
When the day goes quiet and less is asked of him, he talks you on rounds of the Keep, arm linked in yours as you glide through the hills in a comforting silence or the odd few words. He offers to go riding with you, or takes you as apart of the hunting party, out in nature, away in the fresh air it’s an escape, and one he takes with you gratefully. And after he’s been away for a while, on a passing visit to a neighbouring house for alliance, or even after his participation in tourneys, he always brings you gifts. He remembers, and he is thoughtful, just the way Baelor taught him to be, so in small boxes he’ll leave you with, either placing it in your hands or leaving it at your desks. Some are little notebooks, or carefully handmade silvers that made him think of you.
And with Matarys, he is your soft, sweet child, not as outwardly courageous or confident as his brother, preferring to stay at your side or out of the way, but he is every bit your light. If his nose isn’t in a book perched beside you, it’s with his hand inching at yours to sweep through the corridors. Though he stays out of the courtly drama and gossip, you two tend to get up to your own. Because he may be that way in hindsight, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t surface with you, instead it’s the opposite. He makes you laugh by mimicking others, way to well for his own good, or reciting poetry he thought sounded funny, he has his own humour and his own other side he lets out with you.
He likes to read with you and to you, highlighting the pages in a book with a pin so you can follow along the story after he’s set it down. He drifts about rather than clinging, often passing you with a soft pat to his hair, or a hand gracing his cheek, and he notices all of it. He does his best to be bold, as Valarr tells him to be, and copies his older brother in posture and in attitude, though it usually fails in that awkward sweet way. But he is the first to dance with you at hosted balls, and the one to slip cream cakes and desserts for you both at your table.
It is to be said that every one of them look up to you, no matter the circumstance or how they grow, you are their solace as they are yours, and each of them have their own way of showing it.
Warnings: None. Pure fluff| Reader is an adoptive mother to her late friend’s daughter, who has and is ridiculed for being a “teen mother”/ “knocked up.”
Inspired by @/bittersweetlyblue & @/matthewswifeyy
Rafe Cameron who grew up hating you because you were a pogue, laughing about you with the other kooks.
Rafe Cameron who believed the rumors that you got knocked up by some random guy during a one-night stand—that you were a “knocked up” teen mother.
Rafe Cameron who, after catching you, watching your interaction with your daughter, pulls his eyes away, conflicted.
Rafe Cameron, whose eyes began to trail you and your daughter whenever he would catch a glance of you in public.
Rafe Cameron who found himself drawn to you whenever you were around, chugging his beer, and casting his eyes away in an attempt to get you out his mind.
Rafe Cameron who slowly gets close to you, and learns the truth about your daughter; you took in your late friend’s daughter.
Rafe Cameron who finds comfort in you and your daughter.
Rafe Cameron who, when Topper brings you up and calls you a whore and slut, clenches his jaw in an attempt to restrain his emotions.
Rafe Cameron who loses his cool when Topper brings up catching him around you, “a sluttly pogue who couldn’t control herself.”
Rafe Cameron who punches Topper to the ground, getting himself into a fist fight.
Rafe Cameron who has to be pulled off of Topper, his lips cracked and bleeding.
Rafe Cameron who glances at every kook surrounding the two of them, processing what happened. He clenches his jaw before wiping off the dripping fresh blood from his lip.
Rafe Cameon who storms off in anger.
Rafe Cameron who finds himself knocking outside your door in the middle of the night, his forehead inclined toward your door.
Rafe Cameron who, when you’re wiping and dabbing the blood off his face, tries to turn his face away in embarrassment, your daughter sleepily clinging onto his arm.
Rafe Cameron who is more calm at the sight and presence of you and your daughter.
Rafe Cameron who refuses to sleep in your bed or the master bedroom and chooses to sleep on your couch.
Rafe Cameron who watches as you walk to your bedroom with your daughter, whose hands cling to your back, her head situated between the nook of your neck.
Rafe Cameron who can’t sleep the entire night, and finds himself staring at your ceiling.
Rafe Cameron who finds himself standing outside your bedroom door, softly knocking as to not wake your daughter.
Rafe Cameron who looks into your confused and sleep-induced gaze as you stare at him from the other side of your bedroom door.
Rafe Cameron who relaxes into your presence, his arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his face into the nook of your neck—the both you lying on your sides on your bed.
Rafe Cameron who presses a soft kiss to your shoulder at the sound of your soft snores, mixing in with your daughter’s.
Rafe Cameron who finally finds sleep at the sound of your heartbeat.
Summary: You spent the day with Ana, her laughter filling the spaces where your nerves tried to creep in. Between playful moments and soft conversations, you kept thinking about the step you were ready to take — one that would change all your lives forever. For once, the future didn’t feel heavy or distant. It felt like home, and you were finally ready to claim it.
Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Tony Stark x Daughter!reader.
Word count: 7432
Warnings: huge amount of fluffiness, Tony being a good grampa, Natasha being slightly insecure. Reader and ana being the best duo ever.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Author's notes: Hey everyone, I just want to apologize for taking so long to post. I’ve been going through a tough time in my personal life, but I’m back now. Also, I’m really sorry I couldn’t fit everything I wanted into one chapter—sometimes the story just takes its own direction! But please, feel free to send in any asks! I absolutely love talking with you all.
By the way, how do you think Reader’s contact is saved in Natasha’s phone? I’d love to hear your thoughts on that!
There were many moments in her life Natasha could label as memorable.
Some for their pain. Some for their absurdity. Some for the sheer adrenaline of surviving something she shouldn’t have survived.
But there weren’t many she could call peaceful.
And none, until now, that she could call happy.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling so at peace, so quietly and utterly content, as she did now — with you stretched lazily beside her, your hand absently tracing slow circles against her hip, your breathing slow and steady, filling the room with a comfort she never thought she’d have.
Your presence was soothing in a way nothing else had ever been.
Not a mission completed. Not a victory celebrated.
Just you.
The breeze after a long storm. The fresh air after years underground.
She let her eyes close again, allowing herself a rare indulgence: believing that maybe, this time, happiness wasn’t something temporary. Maybe this time, it was here to stay.
And it was all because of you.
A sudden clatter of a fork against a plate snapped her gently from her thoughts.
Natasha blinked, finding herself at the kitchen table, sunlight filtering through the windows, the scent of something simple and warm hanging in the air. You were across from her, lazily spinning your fork through your pasta, while Ana sat between the two of you, her face scrunched in concentration as she tried to stab a cherry tomato without it rolling away.
“You know,” you said, a teasing glint in your eyes as you watched Ana’s struggle, “I think she’s developing your stubbornness.”
Natasha quirked an eyebrow, resting her chin on her hand. “She’s smarter than that.”
Ana, seemingly proving the point, gave up on the fork altogether and grabbed the tomato with her fingers, stuffing it triumphantly into her mouth.
You snorted, pointing at Ana with your fork. “Pure Romanoff energy right there.”
Natasha gave a half-smile, letting herself soak in the easy atmosphere — but there was a subtle flicker in her chest, that lingering voice that always whispered caution. She’s not yours, it reminded her. Not completely. But she shoved it away, focusing instead on how natural this felt, how it was getting harder and harder to imagine a day without you here.
“You’re a bad influence,” Natasha muttered, nudging Ana’s foot under the table playfully.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you grinned, twirling more pasta onto your fork before adding casually, “Besides, she needed a partner in crime.”
Ana babbled a few incoherent words, her hands waving enthusiastically, and both of you laughed — the kind of laugh that made Natasha’s shoulders finally, truly relax.
She leaned back slightly, watching the two of you with something dangerously close to awe.
Without even trying, you had stitched yourself into the fabric of her life.
And for once… she wasn’t terrified of it.
“You look proud of yourself,” she said dryly, raising an eyebrow at you.
“I am,” you said without shame. “Successfully corrupted two generations in one go.”
Natasha shook her head, a soft, reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah,” you said easily, meeting her gaze with a lazy warmth that made her chest tighten. “But I’m your idiot.”
Natasha felt the words hit harder than they should have, a strange ache blooming low in her ribs. She dropped her gaze to Ana, who was now sleepily pushing peas around her plate, her small body swaying with exhaustion.
She reached out, smoothing down Ana’s wild hair, using the small, automatic gesture to steady herself.
There was no need to rush anything, no need to put a name to what they had just yet. But deep down, Natasha couldn’t shake the feeling that it was consuming her—this burning, aching longing. It wasn’t just a desire; it was a yearning to belong, to be loved unconditionally. She knew, without a doubt, that you loved her, loved both of them. But that wasn’t enough. She craved more. She needed to claim it, to declare to the world, to the universe, that you were hers—and that Ana was hers too. That they were a part of you, and she needed that certainty, that assurance. She needed to hear it, to feel it, to be sure.
For now, she was trying to convince herself that it was enough to just sit here, to eat badly cooked pasta at a wobbly kitchen table, to listen to you make stupid jokes, and to feel — maybe for the first time in her entire life — safe. But, undeniably she needed more…
Natasha watched as Ana’s tiny hands clumsily tried to collect peas into a pile, her red hair catching the soft light filtering into the kitchen. The image — her daughter, your easy smile, the quiet bubble of home — was enough to make Natasha’s chest ache, in that fragile way she was still learning not to fear.
You leaned back in your chair, your fork abandoned, tapping your fingers lightly against the table with a mock-considering expression.
She caught the glint in your eyes a second before you spoke, and immediately narrowed hers in suspicion.
“So…” you dragged the word out, clearly up to no good. “May I take your daughter to spend the day with me?”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That sounds suspicious as hell.”
You pressed a hand dramatically over your heart. “Come on, give me some credit.”
She didn’t even blink, still looking at you like she was waiting for a confession.
“I need her expert opinions,” you went on, leaning closer across the table as if you were sharing a world-class secret. “She’s a pro. Totally slays. I need her stamp of approval for some… very important choices.”
Ana, oblivious to the conspiracy brewing over her head, yawned noisily and dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter.
Natasha folded her arms, pretending to be stern even as the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. “And what, exactly, is my almost 2 year daughter a pro at?”
You shrugged innocently. “Taste. Style. World domination. You know, the basics.”
She rolled her eyes, but it was useless — the warmth in her chest was already spreading, making her feel lighter, safer than she had any right to be. She wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly what you were doing. You weren’t asking just to spend time with Ana — you were giving her another quiet reassurance. You weren’t going anywhere. You weren’t running. You were settling deeper into their life, into her life, stitch by stubborn, beautiful stitch.
Still, Natasha wasn’t about to make it easy for you.
“You break her, you bought her,” she said dryly, sipping from her mug, pretending like the flutter in her chest didn’t almost make her hand shake.
You gave her a wide, cheeky grin, one that made her feel far younger and far older all at once.
“Deal,” you said without hesitation. “But just for the record — if anything, she’s more likely to break me.”
Natasha huffed, hiding her smile behind her cup. Ana babbled something unintelligible and smacked her little hand onto your forearm, demanding attention, and you turned immediately to her with exaggerated seriousness, as if she had just issued a royal decree.
“See?” you said, throwing Natasha a look of mock helplessness. “Already got me wrapped around her finger.”
Natasha shook her head, but this time she didn’t even try to hide the smile that stretched across her lips.
Maybe happiness was here to stay after all. Maybe it was in the small, stupid moments — the peas scattered on the plate, the teasing between two people who never thought they could have this, the warmth of a child’s touch grounding them both.
And maybe, just maybe, she deserved it.
Even if the thought still scared her more than any battlefield ever could. The last thing Natasha saw was you cleaning Ana, carefully changing her into a fresh outfit with that proud smile of yours that always tugged at her heart. As you gently adjusted her clothes, Ana giggled, her small hands reaching up to touch your face, causing your smile to widen even more. You lifted Ana into your arms with ease, holding her gently but firmly against your hip, your eyes meeting Natasha’s as you gave her a playful wink.
Ana, sensing the attention, gave a small, clumsy wave toward her mom, her tiny fingers reaching out in a wobbly, enthusiastic greeting. Natasha’s heart swelled at the sight, and she couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. You, her daughter, and the life you two were building together—Natasha never knew how much she needed this until she had it.
You gave her a knowing nod, and as if sensing her thoughts, you turned toward the door, carrying Ana with a relaxed confidence. You wanted her to feel secure. She deserved to, and she trusted you
.As the elevator doors closed behind you, you shifted Ana in your arms, making sure she was comfortable as you hummed softly to her. She was still too young to fully understand the words, but she appreciated the sound of your voice, her little eyes following you as you spoke.
“Alright, kiddo, time for a little adventure,” you whispered, your lips brushing the top of her head. “You know how important your mom is to me, right?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. It was so easy to fall into this routine, to fall into this role as her protector, her companion.
Ana made a small sound in response—probably just babbling—but you took it as a form of agreement.
“Good,” you continued with a grin. “Because without her, well, I wouldn’t have anyone to bug. And speaking of… today, we’re going to see Grandpa Tony in his lab. He’s probably still complaining about something, but you know him… always making things ten times more complicated than they need to be.”
You shifted Ana slightly in your arms as the elevator dinged, reaching your floor. The doors slid open, and you stepped out into the hallway of the tower, the familiar hum of the building’s energy around you.
“Now,” you added playfully, “you’re gonna love my dad, as your grandfather. but don’t be fooled—he’s just as bad as me when it comes to getting distracted by work. He’ll probably try to show you his latest project and then talk my ear off about it for hours. Just wait. I swear, he could talk about a paperclip for a good hour if you let him.”
Ana let out a little squeal, clearly amused by your antics. Her little hands reached up and patted your face, her way of joining in on the fun. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her, her enthusiasm so pure and infectious.
As you made your way toward the lab, you could already hear the familiar sound of Tony’s voice from the other side of the door. “I swear, if one more person asks me how to fix the stupid cooling system—”
The door to the lab opened before you could even knock. Tony stood in the doorway, his signature smirk already in place. His eyes flicked from you to Ana in your arms, and a knowing grin spread across his face.
“Well, well, look who’s all grown up,” Tony teased, his gaze lingering on Ana. “Can’t believe you got a kid at your hip. That’s a new one, kid. I expected you to be way more of a chaos machine by now. But no, you went and got all soft. What’s next? You two gonna move in here and start taking naps on my couch?”
You rolled your eyes, chuckling at his usual sarcastic tone. “You know I’m just here for the tech, Dad. I’m not trying to turn your lab into a daycare center, don’t worry.”
Tony raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. “Uh-huh. Sure, sure. You don’t need to lie to me. I saw you with Ana out there. You’re whipped. I’ve never seen you so soft in all my life. Who knew Romanoff's kid would be the one to soften you up?”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” you said, holding Ana a little higher in your arms. “But let’s not act like you weren’t the same way when you had me. Don’t try to act all tough now. We both know you can’t resist a little snuggle session with the kid.”
Tony dramatically clutched his chest. “Oh, please. I don’t need to hear about my ‘soft side’ from you. I’m just here to be a good, responsible parent. I’m not whipped like someone I know.” He flashed you an exaggerated wink, clearly enjoying the teasing.
“Right,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “Sure, Dad. Whatever you say.”
Tony smirked and gestured toward a table full of gadgets and blueprints. “Come on in, kiddo. Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into today. I’m sure you’ve got a ton of questions about the latest project, don’t you?”
“Not exactly…”
You said as you stepped into the lab, still holding Ana, who was now distracted by the flashing lights and screens around her. She seemed genuinely fascinated by everything, which just made Tony all the more excited.
“Look at her. Already smarter than both of us combined,” Tony muttered, as he turned toward a workbench and started rummaging through some tools. “And here I thought she’d be the one to keep you in check. Looks like you’re gonna need more than a few lessons to keep up with her.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the playful jab. “At least I’m not the one who’s got an army of robots and a super suit to do all the heavy lifting for me,” you retorted with a grin, giving Tony a sideways glance. “At least I’m doing this the old-fashioned way.”
Tony gave you a mock gasp. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re not secretly jealous of the Iron Man suit. Come on, admit it. You want one. It’s practically calling your name.”
“Maybe one day,” you said, as you gently sat Ana down on a nearby cushioned chair. “But today is all about her, and her mama. Right, Ana?”
Ana cooed, and you gave her a smile, her face lighting up at the attention. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she looked up at you, her little hands reaching out toward Tony’s lab table in curiosity. It was moments like these that made you feel truly alive—connected, grounded, and exactly where you needed to be.
“Alright, kiddo, what do you think?” you asked her, motioning to the lab.
Tony raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned over the table. “I think you’ve got your hands full with her, kid. I never thought I’d see the day you’d become the responsible one. But you did good. She’s gonna keep you on your toes.”
You shot him a playful look, watching as Ana grabbed a small tool from the table with the curiosity of a true Stark.
“Yeah, well,” you said with a soft chuckle, “looks like I’m already a little whipped. But that’s okay, I’m used to it.”
Tony laughed, his voice ringing out with amusement. “Sure, sure. Just don’t let anyone hear that you’re ‘whipped.’ Trust me, that’ll get around faster than you think.”
The lab was quieter than usual, a rare moment of stillness. The usual hum of gadgets and screens seemed almost distant as you sat across from your father, Ana perched on your lap, completely absorbed by the shiny new toy Tony had given her. You’d been bouncing this thought around in your head for a while now, and you knew there was no one better to talk to about it than your dad. He might be a little insufferable at times, but he always had a knack for giving you the advice you needed—whether you liked it or not.
“Dad,” you began, looking down at Ana for a moment before meeting Tony’s gaze, “I’ve been thinking about something. I’m… I’m thinking about proposing to Natasha. Asking her to be my fiancée.”
Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but keeping his cool. “Wait, you’re thinking of proposing? To Natasha? Are you sure you’re not jumping the gun here?”
You exhaled a sharp breath, knowing that the question was coming but still unprepared for it. “Look, we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve been a family in everything but title for months now. We’re already doing the ‘partners in crime’ thing. We’re already there, but… we’ve never really labeled it, you know? We’ve never put a name on it. And I don’t know, I think it’s time for that. It feels right.”
Tony leaned back in his chair, eyeing you intently, his fingers steepled in thought. “I see. So, you want to make it official. Alright. But why the hesitation? Why bring it up now?”
You shifted Ana in your arms, your fingers absently playing with her hair as you chose your words carefully. “I’m scared of scaring her off. I mean, Natasha’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t really do the whole… emotional thing unless she’s sure. I’m worried that if I ask her, she’ll feel like I’m pushing her into something she’s not ready for. Even though I feel like she’s craving this reassurance too. She’s always been the one to hold back, to keep things close to her chest.”
Tony raised a hand, stopping you before you could go further. “Okay, hold up. First of all, I get it. Natasha’s not someone who opens up easily. She’s not a fan of the whole fairy tale thing. But here’s what you need to understand: if she’s with you, if she’s sticking around, it’s because she trusts you. She feels safe with you. And you don’t need to have some big, grand gesture to prove that.”
You shook your head, frustration creeping in. “It’s not just about proving it, though. I want to show her that I’m all in. That this isn’t just some… fleeting thing. I want to give her the reassurance she needs. She’s always been the protector, always been the one holding everything together. But I know she needs someone to hold her too. I just—I want to be that for her.”
Tony’s face softened just a fraction, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something more genuine. “I get it, kid. I really do. And listen, I’m not going to tell you how to do it, because that’s your thing. But you’ve gotta realize something: Natasha is probably more scared of losing you than you are of scaring her off. She’s been through hell, and she’s not just going to open up and let anyone in that easily. But she’s with you. You’ve got her trust.”
You let the weight of his words settle for a moment, feeling the truth in them. “You really think so?” you asked quietly, glancing down at Ana. She looked up at you with those big, innocent eyes, as if she could sense the shift in your thoughts.
Tony gave a small nod. “I know so. And the truth is, she’s probably more ready for this than you realize. Just don’t overthink it. Ask her, be honest, and take it from there. If she’s with you now, I think she’ll be with you for the long haul.”
You smiled, feeling a sense of relief washing over you. “Thanks, Dad. I think I needed to hear that.”
Tony stood up, stretching as he looked over at you. “No problem, kid. Just don’t screw it up.” He shot you a wink, and for the first time in a while, there was no sarcasm in his voice—just the simple truth. “And don’t keep me in the dark when you do it. I want the details. All the details.”
You laughed softly. “I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for the advice. And for not completely ruining my confidence.”
Tony smirked, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the conversation far too much. “You’re welcome, kid. Now, go figure out how to propose without completely scaring her off. And hey, you better nail this because I’m already mentally preparing to be a grandpa.” He raised an eyebrow dramatically, as if the idea was more shocking to him than anyone else.
You blinked, not entirely sure if you heard him right. “A what?”
“Grandfather,” Tony grinned, his fingers tapping the table in mock contemplation. “That’s what you’re about to make me, you know. A grandfather. Romanoff’s kid. And here I thought I’d just be stuck dealing with you and your ridiculous tech experiments for the rest of my life, but no. Now I’m about to be the cool grandpa—can you even imagine that?”
Ana, who had been happily playing with one of Tony’s old gadgets on the table, made a noise that could only be described as half-babble, half-squeal. Tony, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned down and waved a finger in front of her face.
“Who’s the coolest grandpa, huh?” Tony cooed at Ana, his voice way too exaggerated for someone who had just turned into a grandparent in theory. “Is it me? You think I’m the coolest grandpa in the world? Or are you just excited about playing with my toys?”
Ana giggled, clearly entertained by the shiny object, and babbled something incoherent. Tony grinned, playing it up. “Ah, yeah, that’s what I thought. She’s totally on my side. Smart kid.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Tony was completely right. Ana, in her usual way, was already totally on his side. “You’re a mess,” you muttered, but couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of the whole scene. Tony was making being a grandfather sound like a full-on comedy routine, and it was honestly kind of working.
“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. You have no idea how great being a grandpa is,” Tony said, tapping his fingers against his chin. “I never thought I’d get here, but I’ve gotta say, Romanoff’s kid? I didn’t even see her as the ‘mom’ type, much less the ‘gonna-make-me-a-grandfather’ type. It’s like finding out your favorite action hero is secretly into knitting. Unexpected, but here we are.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m surprised you’re so okay with it. Natasha’s kid, huh? That’s… something.”
Tony chuckled, bouncing Ana on his knee as she babbled again, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Look, you’re both ridiculously lucky that she’s already a part of my life. You’ll be thankful when you’re bringing her over here for weekend visits, and I’m the one spoiling her rotten with whatever the hell I want.”
Ana babbled again, and this time Tony leaned in, making her giggle. “What’s that, kid? You think I’m awesome, right? I think you’re awesome too,” he cooed, making his best goofy face.
You watched, amused, as Tony continued to play up the role of doting grandparent. He picked up another gadget, handing it to Ana, making her laugh even harder. “You know, I’ve always been good with gadgets, but this? This is a whole new level. This kid’s gonna be a tech genius in no time, and I’m going to take all the credit. You know, because I’m basically the greatest uncle/grandpa of all time.”
“I’m not calling you Grandpa,” you said, laughing. “You’ll have to come up with a cooler nickname. And she is learning with me aka her moma, because i am better than you”
Tony smirked. “Oh, only in your dreams. I’m sure she’ll come up with something better. It’s gonna be great—she’ll probably end up calling me something way cooler than you ever would.” He gave you a side-eye and grinned. “You’re totally whipped. I’m already practicing my grandpa dance moves. Get ready.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Tony had already fully embraced the idea of being a grandfather, even if he was just teasing about it. But the way he played with Ana, making her laugh, teasing you—there was something so natural and carefree about it all. You were glad she had Tony in her life. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to have him around more often… even if he was totally insufferable about it.
“Yeah, yeah, we get it, Tony,” you said with a smirk. “You’re the best grandpa ever. But seriously, let’s focus. Do you think Natasha’s going to freak out when I do this?”
Tony waved a hand, his tone turning more serious. “Eh, you’ll figure it out. But remember, don’t make her run for the hills. We don’t need two of you doing the ‘are we really doing this’ dance, alright?”
“I’ll try,” you said, chuckling. “But you better not mess this up for me, old man.”
“Hey, I’m not the one getting whipped here,” Tony said with a wink, before turning back to Ana. “Alright, kid, give me a high five. I’m basically the coolest grandpa ever. You know it.”
Ana slapped her tiny hand against his with a giggle. Tony grinned, watching her as if she were the best thing in the world. Maybe, just maybe, he was looking forward to this whole ‘grandfather’ thing more than he’d let on
You gave Tony a final look as you prepared to leave, Ana still perched on your hip, her tiny hands clutching at your clothes. “Well, I’ve got a full day ahead of me,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Searching for the perfect engagement ring for Natasha and I. This is going to be a fun adventure.”
Tony’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Ah, yes, the youngest sugar mommy in the world,” he quipped with a wink. “Gonna be a real great look for you. You know, when you’re still taking care of Natasha’s ring shopping. That’s how I imagine you’ll end up—spoiling her with diamonds and tech gadgets while I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing. “Someone has to keep the romance alive, Tony. You should follow your daughter’s example, and Maybe do something nice for Pepper. She’s probably starting to forget you’re a romantic type.”
Tony blinked in mock horror, raising his eyebrows. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. You want me to—what? Romance Pepper?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d have to start doing all kinds of work to undo all the ‘I’m too cool for romance’ stuff I’ve been saying for years. That’s a lot of work, kid.”
You smirked as you bounced Ana on your hip, “Well, you better start practicing, old man. Otherwise, Pepper might just find herself a new sugar daddy. Someone who doesn’t constantly crack jokes about being too cool for love.”
Tony shook his head, grinning like a mischievous child. “You know, you might be onto something there. But for now, I’m just going to sit here and laugh at you, while you actually go ring shopping. You, the ‘sugar mommy.’” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “You’re making me proud.”
You shook your head, heading for the door with Ana still clinging to you. “Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing, Tony. You’ll see. I’m going to be the best fiancé ever, and I’m going to make it extra special for Natasha. I’ll make sure to rub it in your face when it works out.”
“Sure you will. Go on, then. Make sure that ring you’re buying is as shiny as your future,” Tony called after you, chuckling.
Ana gave a tiny, muffled giggle as she waved goodbye, and you couldn’t help but smile. At least you had a plan—and you weren’t about to let it slip away.
You carefully strapped Ana into the car seat, her tiny hands gripping at your jacket as you made sure she was comfortable. It had become second nature to you, taking care of her like this. As much as Natasha had a knack for being a fierce, independent woman, there was something about the way she let go when it came to you, trusting you with the things she didn’t always want to manage. Like letting you take control of the car, even though she had her own set of wheels parked in the garage. She simply didn’t care. It was as if she had declared herself a “passenger princess,” and you couldn’t help but adore that about her.
With Ana in the backseat, you started the engine, the sound of it a hum of quiet power beneath you. Your hand rested on the steering wheel, a comforting reminder of how much things had changed. You had come so far from when you barely knew what you were doing with your life. Now, you had a little girl to take care of something you never wanted, but now you can't imagine your life without, and a beautiful woman who trusted you with more than you ever thought you’d be capable of.
As you drove through the city, your mind wandered to the task ahead. Cartier. The place where you were going to pick out something so special, something that would show Natasha just how much you appreciated her. It was going to be perfect, or at least that was the plan. You weren’t nervous about the ring—it was more about what it meant. You weren’t just buying a piece of jewelry; you were solidifying your future. With Natasha. And Ana.
You looked in the rearview mirror, catching Ana’s wide eyes staring up at you, her face an open book of curiosity, though she could barely form words. “We’re going to get a special gift for Mommy, kiddo,” you said with a soft smile. “Something shiny, something beautiful. Your mom deserves it all, you know?”
She didn’t respond—of course, she didn’t. Ana wasn’t quite at the stage where she could articulate much yet, but you loved the way she looked at you, as if she understood every word you said, even though she was still finding her voice. Her small, round eyes followed your every move, and you could feel her focus on you, an innocence that was both heartwarming and, in its own way, a little overwhelming.
The drive to the shopping center was short. You parked and grabbed the diaper bag from the backseat, slinging it over your shoulder as you lifted Ana out of her seat, holding her close. She squirmed a little, reaching for the necklace you had on. You chuckled, adjusting her in your arms. She loves to play with your necklace, since she meet you in that meeting…
Ana gave a soft, gurgling sound that was almost like a laugh, and you found yourself smiling at how sweet and innocent she was, unaware of how much she meant to you, how much she meant to Natasha. You took her hand gently and led her inside the store.
Cartier was as elegant and pristine as always, with rows of sparkling diamonds and gold gleaming under the soft lighting. You had been here a few times before, picking out gifts for friends whenever you wanted to make them feel special, but today it felt different. It wasn’t just a matter of picking out something pretty. Today, you were making a statement.
You walked through the aisles, pointing to a few options as you spoke to Ana, even though you knew she wasn’t quite old enough to understand. “We’re going to find something perfect,” you murmured, trying to steady your nerves. “Something worthy of your mom. She deserves everything, sweetheart. You’ll see. When we give it to her, it’ll be like all our love wrapped up in a little shiny box.”
Ana babbled something, and you paused, letting out a small laugh. “I know, right? I’m a sucker for her too. But don’t worry, Ana. We’ll make sure to make her feel special. She's been taking care of us, so it’s our turn.”
The sales associate came over and led you to a display of rings, their beauty unmatched. You glanced at Ana as you moved, still holding her close to you, your thoughts drifting to Natasha. She had been through so much in her life, and yet she had managed to create this small, perfect world for the three of you. You could already see it—Natasha’s reaction when she saw the ring, the way her eyes would light up with surprise, a flicker of exasperation at the price, and maybe even a little bit of disbelief that you’d pulled it off.
You smiled at the thought, realizing how much you’d been anticipating this moment. The ring was only one part of it. The bigger picture was the commitment. You were giving her something she hadn’t had in a long time: stability. You were telling Natasha that you were in this for the long haul. And you would make sure to remind her of that every day.
You looked down at Ana again, who was now quietly observing the sparkling jewelry in the display case. “We’ll get something nice for your mom, don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll love whatever we choose.”
You held her a little tighter as the sales associate continued to show you options. It was easy to get lost in the idea of the future, of everything you wanted to build. With Natasha, with Ana. Your heart swelled with love, and it felt right. All of it.
You step closer to the glass display, Ana still cradled in your arms, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as her little head tilts to the side, eyes wide with curiosity. You can feel her soft breath against your skin, the gentle weight of her little body grounding you in the moment. The rings before you are dazzling, but none of them seem quite right—not yet.
The attendant who had greeted you steps back for a moment, giving you space, but there’s a soft, almost disappointed air lingering between you. You ignore it, your focus shifting back to the delicate pieces laid out in front of you. But then, something catches your eye—a glimmer of two sapphires set beside a diamond in one of the smaller boxes to the side.
You shift Ana slightly, her tiny body nestled against your shoulder as she lets out a soft, inquisitive sound, her eyes following yours. “Look at that, sweetheart,” you whisper to her, smiling as you tap the glass gently. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
One of the sales associates, noticing your attention, steps closer, her voice soft and professional but with a hint of genuine interest now. “Ah, you’ve spotted one of our more unique pieces. That’s a ring with two sapphires, one on each side of the diamond.” She glances at Ana, then at you, her smile warm. “It’s a beautiful choice—sapphires are often associated with loyalty and wisdom, making them an excellent pairing with a diamond. Very meaningful.”
You nod, turning the box slightly to get a better look at the intricate design. The sapphires seem to almost glow beside the diamond, their deep blue hue contrasting beautifully against the sparkling clarity of the stone. You can almost picture Natasha wearing it, the ring reflecting the light just as she would reflect the love and trust between you.
“That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” you say quietly, almost to yourself. “Something that feels meaningful… something that’ll speak to us, not just look pretty.”
Ana reaches up, her tiny hand brushing against the glass, her fingers outstretched in fascination, the soft giggles escaping her as she tries to touch the rings. Her eyes are focused entirely on the sapphire-colored stones, and her voice rises in a playful babble, “Mama!” she calls, her small voice so pure and filled with love.
You laugh softly, lifting her slightly so her cheek rests against yours. “You like this one, huh?” you murmur, the sound of her giggle filling the space around you, light and free. “You think Mommy would love it?”
The associate watches this exchange, a soft smile curving her lips as she takes in the sight of mother and child, a warmth in her expression that wasn’t there before. “It’s a beautiful ring,” she agrees, her tone softening. “Definitely something special.”
You nod, still looking at the ring. It feels right—like something that would belong to Natasha. “I think this one’s the one,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else, but the words hold the weight of a promise.
Ana reaches for you again, her little fingers grabbing at your collar as she pulls herself closer, her voice a high-pitched, innocent call. “Mama!” she repeats, her excitement contagious. You smile, your heart swelling as you bring her in for a closer hug, feeling the warmth of her tiny body pressed against yours.
“I think she’d love it too, sweetheart,” you murmur, looking down at your daughter’s sparkling eyes. “This will be the perfect ring for Mommy.”
The attendant, sensing the moment, steps back to give you space, her smile genuine now, her previous distance replaced with a soft admiration. You glance up, giving a small nod as you make your decision, knowing in your heart that this ring is more than just a symbol of love. It’s a reflection of the beautiful life you’re about to continue building with Natasha—and the little one you’re holding close to your heart.
You finished selecting the grand diamond ring for Natasha, but then you found yourself drawn to another, for you this time. With a much simpler piece. It wasn’t large or flashy, but it had something about it that caught your eye—a small band with delicate peridots, the gemstones sparkling softly under the lights. As you traced the band with your finger, you couldn’t help but think of the eyes that would one day glance down at it. Natasha’s eyes. Ana’s eyes. The rich green of both of them, so full of life and love. The peridots reminded you of that warmth, of the connection you had with them, something so deeply rooted and irreplaceable.
You knew this ring wasn’t about wealth or grandeur; it was about something far more personal. It was about you, Natasha, and Ana. Your family. It was a symbol, simple but meaningful, something you could wear to remind yourself of everything you had, and everything you hoped for.
The attendant, who had been helping you, noticed the change in your demeanor and smiled. “This one, too?” she asked gently, noticing how your eyes lingered on the ring. “It’s a beautiful choice, very understated. Your fiancé is a lucky woman to have someone with such fine taste.”
You looked up at her, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m the lucky one,” you replied quietly, your voice thick with emotion. “She’s giving me a family.”
You shifted Ana in your arms, her little face breaking into a wide grin as she giggled in your arms. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, too, the sound of her joy filling your heart. “You’re my lucky charm, kiddo,” you whispered, gently bouncing her, making her laugh even harder.
The attendant watched the moment with a knowing smile, and you felt a swell of gratitude for your little family. They might not be the most traditional, or the most perfect in the eyes of the world, but in that moment, with Ana’s laughter in your arms and Natasha waiting for you at home, you felt like the luckiest person in the world.
As you made your way through the store, your gaze kept drifting back to the jewelry display cases, and this time, something caught your eye that made your heart swell. It was a delicate bracelet, small and simple but undeniably beautiful. It wasn’t anything extravagant—just a tiny gold band with little charms, each one representing something small, something significant. You could already imagine Ana wearing it, her chubby little wrists looking even more precious with the bracelet adorning them.
You didn’t need a reason. You didn’t need to justify it to anyone. It was something you could do, and you were damn well going to do it. Ana might not understand it now, but one day, she would.
You turned to the attendant again, nodding towards the bracelet. “And that one too,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips. “Just because I can.”
The attendant smiled knowingly, clearly seeing the love you had for both Natasha and Ana. “Such a thoughtful gift,” she remarked as she carefully wrapped it up. “She’ll love it when she’s older.”
You couldn’t help but imagine Ana with it on, her little hands reaching out to hold Natasha’s as they walked together. You felt the excitement of giving her something so precious, something that would stay with her, a small piece of you, for years to come.
You glanced down at the bracelet in the attendant’s hands and then back to Ana in your arms, her giggles still filling the air. “Yeah,” you murmured under your breath, smiling softly, “she’s going to love it.”
As you made your way through the final steps of paying for everything, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you momentarily away from the dazzling jewelry collection laid out in front of you. You took it out, seeing Natasha’s name flashing across the screen. You couldn’t help but smile, the thought of her—your woman—always managing to sneak her way into your thoughts.
The message was short, but the familiar warmth of her tone was undeniable. She knew you well enough by now, and this little exchange was just another part of the dance between the two of you.
| My woman ❤️🩹 > You are taking too long, should I worry?
You typed a quick response, already anticipating her playful tone in your mind. You loved how she could always make you feel at ease, even through a simple message.
| Me > Just here spoiling my favorite—and only liked—baby. Maybe a little bit of myself too. Don't worry, I got something for you too :)
You quickly hit send before slipping the phone back into your pocket, taking a deep breath and grinning to yourself. Natasha’s little text brought that familiar warmth to your chest. It was as if she were right there with you, even though you were standing in a Cartier store with your daughter on your hip, the weight of the situation suddenly feeling a bit more real.
You looked over at Ana, who was still babbling happily in your arms, oblivious to the significance of what was happening around her. But one day, she would understand. You smiled again, feeling that quiet sense of certainty deep in your heart.
Your phone buzzed again just as you finished collecting everything from the counter.
| My woman ❤️🩹 > Just making sure. But seriously, hurry back, or I might come check on you myself, and you know how dangerous that could be 😉
The playful challenge in her text made you chuckle softly, already imagining the smirk on her face. You could feel the pull to get back to her, to settle into that space of comfort and love that had become so effortless between you. You sent a quick reply before turning to head out the door.
| Me: I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry darling <3
You pulled out your phone again, holding Ana in your hip while rolling though your phone this time with a mischievous grin as you typed a message to Clint. You knew you’d need some help pulling this off without Natasha catching on.
| Me: I’m about to propose to your bestie, can you do me a solid? Like, distract her for the next few hours, maybe until midnight?
You hit send, already picturing Clint’s reaction. Within seconds, the reply came.
| Male Katniss 🏹 > Damn, finally. You got it, kid. Don’t worry, I’ll make her suffer with me watching the Rockies. That should keep her occupied.
You smirked, feeling a little lighter with Clint’s usual sarcastic response. You could practically hear the eye-roll in his voice. But it was exactly what you needed. You sent back a quick “Thanks, Clint. I owe you one” before slipping the phone back into your pocket and heading to meet Natasha, excitement bubbling up in your chest, Ana was looking at you as if she knew what is about to happen tonight.a
You were getting one step closer to making it all real.
Summary: When Talia Al Ghul agrees to stay at Wayne Manor at Damian's request, the last person she expects to bond with is Bruce Wayne's wife, a civilian housewife.
Warning: None
*******
You didn't expect her to say yes.
The invitation was sent more out of duty than desire. A gesture made in good faith, sealed with Damian's pleading eyes and Alfred's gentle encouragement. You had half-expected Bruce to intercept it, crumple it in his calloused hands, and toss it into the fireplace with a stern, "this isn't a good idea."
But the envelope had gone untouched. And now here you were, smoothing down your blouse for the third time, glancing at the dining room clock like it might turn back and undo this entire night.
"She'll come," Damian Said with the certainty of a child raised by both shadows and kings. "she always keeps her word."
You gave him a thin smile. "That's what I'm afraid of." you muttered.
*********
Talia arrived ten minutes late. On purpose, you suspected.
She swept through the door like smoke, sharp heels, darker eyes, and a silence that filled the room before she spoke. She wore black, of course. Not mourning, not elegance- Power.
She was striking in that dangerous kind of way; the kind of woman who didn't need a weapon in hand to feel like one.
"Miss Al Ghul," you greeted. "Mrs. Wayne" she said with vemon.
And that was it. Not a handshake. Not a smile. Just an icy acknowledgement and a long silence that stretched through the foyer like a taut wire.
Dinner was a fragile performance. Talia sat across from you at the long table, her posture impeccable, her conversation minimal. Damian filled in the gaps, recounting stories from school and patrols, always careful to divide his attention between the two of you. He was trying so hard; you could see it in the way he glanced between you, measuring every word, every tone, like peace was something he could balance on a fork.
Bruce was quiet, naturally. Watching. Studying. Occasionally reaching for your hand beneath the table, grounding you in subtle ways.
"you've done well," Talia said, finally, her voice low as she picked at her salad. It took you a second to realize she was talking to you. "With Damian," She clarified, as if it wounded her to say it aloud "He's... steadier than he was."
"Thank you," you said carefully. "But he's done the work. I've just been here."
Her eyes flicked up. "That's more than most."
There was something unreadable in her expression, and it took you a moment to recognize it.
Was that...Gratitude? No. Respect.
However small, however begrudging, it was there.
***********
After dinner, the men excused themselves to the cave for a systems check. Damian offered to stay, clearly nervous to leave the two of you alone, but Bruce gave him a slight nudge.
"She's not going to stab me, Damian," You murmured, half-joking.
Talia said nothing, but a single brow rose in amusement.
Once they were gone, the silence between you settled like fog.
You poured wine. Offered her a glass. She accepted, but didn't drink."
"I didn't come here to play nice," she said finally.
"I didn't expect you to," you replied, meeting her gaze.
She tilted her head slightly, studying you. "then why invite me?"
"Because he asked me to."
Talia's expression didn't change, but something in her shoulders shifted. A breath, maybe. A tension released.
"And you always do what he asks?"
"No," you said. "But I try to do what's right for Damian."
That gave her pause. The silence between you changed then. no longer charged, but contemplative.
You landed back in your chair, taking her in more fully. There was something brittle in her tonight, something under the sleek lines and poised mask that felt... tired. Not weak. Never weak. But worn.
"I don't hate you, you know," you said softly.
She looked at you like she didn't believe you.
"I don't," you repeated. "I didn't know what to expect when I married Bruce. I knew about you. I knew about your history. I just didn't know it would feel like... carrying someone else's ghost."
That made her eyes sharpen. "I'm not dead."
"No," you said. "But sometimes I think part of him still lives in that time. when it was just you and the mission." Her grip tightened around her wine glass. "He chose you."
"I know."
you didn't say it like a victory. Just a fact. One that sat heavy on the table between you.
"I'm not here to take anything from you," she said after a long pause.
You believed her. But that didn't mean it was easy
*********
Later, as the hour grew late, Talia stodd and reached for her coat. Damian rushed in from the hall, his eyes darting between you both. "You're leaving already?"
"It's late," she said, smoothing her sleeve. "And I'm not needed here."
Damian frowned. "You're always needed." Her hand stilled for a fraction of a second, resting against his cheek. And in that brief moment, something like softness passed over her face. "You have more than you know, ibni." (My Son.)
She turned to you then. Not cold. Not warm. But real. "Thank you," she said quietly. You didn't need to ask what for.
***********
After she left, you sat alone at the table for a long time, starring at the wine you hadn't finished. You told yourself it had gone better than expected. That maybe this was the beginning of a tentative truce.
But as the night deepened and the shadows stretched across the empty seat she'd left behind, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.
Just a quick push—little hands on your side, frustration bursting out of him before he even thought it through.
You stumbled back half a step, more shocked than anything.
“Hey!” you snapped. “That is not okay. We don’t push people.”
Your son glared up at you, seven years old and already way too good at attitude.
“You always ruin everything!” he shouted. “I don’t care! I hate you!”
Your mouth opened, stunned—but before you could get a word out—
“The hell did you just say?”
The hallway went quiet. Katsuki’s voice cut through like a knife.
Your son turned slowly, already regretting it. Katsuki stood in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw locked, eyes narrowed.
He walked in, calm but tight, every step deliberate. “Try saying that again.”
The boy’s lips trembled. “I didn’t mean it…”
“You shoved her,” Katsuki said. “And then said that? You think that’s okay?”
“No…”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“I was just mad!”
“You’re gonna get mad,” Katsuki said, crouching down to his level. “That’s normal. But if you think throwing your hands or saying crap like that gets you what you want—you’ve got it all backwards.”
He pointed toward you without breaking eye contact. “You don’t ever talk to your mom like that. You don’t touch her. You don’t yell at her. I don’t care if you’re angry or tired or whatever—you don’t cross that line.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her…”
“You still did,” Katsuki said, standing up again. “Now go to your room. We’ll talk more when you’ve calmed down.”
The kid looked between the two of you, tears threatening, then turned and ran off down the hall. The door clicked shut.
You exhaled slowly, rubbing your temples. “That was... intense.”
Katsuki sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Well. He’s not gonna grow up thinking that crap’s normal.”
You nodded. “He’s never acted like that before.”
“He’s testing limits.” Katsuki looked at you, jaw still tense. “Just gotta make sure he knows where the line is.”
He moved closer, eyes on yours now. “You okay?”
You gave him a tired smile. “Fine. Just didn’t expect him to go full tiny Bakugou on me.”
That earned the smallest smirk from him. “Yeah, that’s on me.”
He rested a hand on your back, grounding you. “You don’t ever let him treat you like that. No matter how little he is. He needs to know who the hell he’s talking to.”
You leaned into his side. “Thanks for backing me up.”
“Always,” he muttered. “No one messes with my girl. Not even my own damn kid.”
includes : gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami ! and spoilers <3
gojo satoru.
. being the young mother of the strongest sorcerer was never going to be easy
. you missed out on a lot of his time because the elders and higher ups were always having him training to be their weapon despite your silent wishes for him to have a normal childhood
. of course you loved him, he was your son, but you couldn't free him from the responsibilities of becoming clan head and such
. whenever you two could be together, it was always somewhat distant which you tried to work through but it was hard
. you knew that in the future, you would wish that you fought harder to be with your little boy
. as satoru grew he slipped away, finding more fun in causing trouble for the elders and rebelling from everything expected of him
. when he left for his first year at jujutsu high it was the last straw and you stopped seeing him completely, you cried that night but found small comfort knowing he would only do so if he had found good friends
. you would send him gifts and letters with no response or return, but at least knew he received them when you'd call up the post office and they let you know that all your packages had been picked up
. you assumed he just wanted freedom from the clan before his closing in responsibility
. the little time you did have with satoru, you spent trying to make up for all the time you had missed out on, always buying sweets his father used to like in preparation for his small visits
. he never ate them around you but you'd always come back to the boxes empty
. after the star plasma vessel mission, he cut ties with you and just like the night he left for school, you cried
. he reached out again after struggling to raise megumi and tsumiki, to which you eagerly accepted his call for help and took on the responsibility of the two kids while satoru was busy
. when suguru defected you spent a good portion of the gojo clan's wealth on any and every sweet your late husband had ever liked, passing down the rest of his habits onto your son, finally
. the next years of your life were spent raising tsumiki and megumi alongside your son, spoiling them with the gojo clans massive wealth
. when satoru was sealed you stayed with shoko who comforted you, having known your son for a long time and probably better than you ever would
. megumi tried to cheer you up but it didn't really work until satoru was freed from the prison realm and you jumped onto him, begging him not to leave you like his father had to
. you watched as both of your boys fought, well, one taken over by the king of curses
. when you saw your little boy split in half on that screen, you walked out of the room and didn't look back, waiting for ui ui to transport satoru's body back so you could say goodbye
. you were opposed to yuta inhabiting satoru's body but let it happen, saying goodbye to shoko and leaving
suguru geto.
. with a son that could see strange creatures was a little weird but as a non sorcerer, you tried your best to understand
. you pampered and smothered suguru as he grew up, making sure that despite the fact you were raising him in a simple village, he had everything he could possibly want
. on your free weekends, you would take him out to the city and use up all your spare money to buy him whatever he wanted because you couldn't resist your boy's little face
. when someone showed up at your door, telling you your son had to go to jujutsu high because he was a very powerful sorcerer, you were devastated but proud of him for growing so fast
. suguru promised to call you every week and you saw him off with teary eyes
. he kept his promise, telling you about the two others in his class and all the missions he was being dispatched on while you worried and filled him in on all the village gossip
. in your second year, he told you about his juniors, two boys that he quite liked, especially the happier of the two
. when he was sent out to help the star plasma vessel you made him promise to call you every day with updates on how he was, especially because of the higher risk of the mission
. after the failure, you started noticing that he was changing
. you noticed he stopped eating and was coming home less and you'd never tell him but sometimes you sobbed at night, begging any higher being for your little boy back
. when he did come home, you didn't comment but always made sure to put more servings on his plate than your own
. once, you let slip that you thought something might be going on in the village, that you could hear distant and caged cries at times but didn't think it meant to much, that it was just your imagination
. after that, he stopped coming home completely
. you begged suguru to come home one day, on the one year anniversary of his father's death, telling him that you missed him
. he came home that night and he held you as you lit the incense for his father, the both of you pretending like you couldn't feel that cold pressure looming over your back
. suguru apologised to you as his curse attacked but you only smiled through your tears, insisting you could never hate your little boy
. in your last breath you only whispered his and your late husband's names, limp hand slipping from his cheek
ryomen sukuna.
. when your son was young, he'd always been labeled as a freak, a monster and an abomination by the people from your village
. as a result, you were ostracised from the people you had once known
. you took him and ran into the woods, living in one of the old buildings from the village your people had left behind in the past, just close enough to buy supplies when needed or during an emergency
. you sustained yourself and your son by growing your own crop and collecting water from the nearby river, as well as sewing your own clothes
. you knew that your son resented you for making him be born like this but you cared for him anyway
. at night when you thought he was asleep, you'd scream up at the sky, asking what you had done to deserve this
. he heard it all and began to pull away, realising he was the reason you had to live in the woods, and for your pain despite the fact you would tuck him in every night and assure him that you would love him no matter what
. in a particular harsh winter when you had burnt all your supplies, you had to venture out into the woods to reach the village and did not return for three days, leaving your son alone in the house
. when you returned the snow storm had ended, you were beat and frostbitten, collapsing just before you reached the door
. he raced out and brought you inside, ignoring the produce you had bought until after he was sure you were okay
. he nursed you back to health as well as he could and demanded you tell him who had made you this weak
. you reluctantly told him who, believing that your boy wouldn't do anything but he left, returning the next day dirtied, marking the beginning of his bloodlust
. your sickness never truly disappeared but he took you with him anyway as he rose through the ranks
. as it progressed, you began to lose hope of ever recovering, begging your boy to just kill you, to end your suffering
. he disagreed with your pleas in the beginning but your whining began to become irritating so he did it quickly for you, ordering uraume to preserve your body
. that day, he gained the name ryomen sukuna
. years into the future when yorozu questioned if sukuna had already known love, the briefly thought back to you and wondered where your body had ended up
toji fushiguro.
. being a woman in the zen'in clan was not easy, especially when your son was everything that your clan hated
. married into the clan at a young age, you were forced to have a child at the end of your teens
. things only got worse when it was revealed that your son had not a pinch of cursed energy despite being a zen'in
. you were separated from those around you, because apparently it was your fault for birthing a boy without any talent, raising your son without the help of even your husband
. when toji was a baby, you spent each day focused on only him, tending to whatever he may need while the maids took care of your tasks and you'd hold him at night, telling your baby boy that you loved him
. as he grew, you were always there, letting your boy know you loved him and would stick with him through thick and thin, loving him all the same despite the pain he had caused you
. you stood by him as he trained and grew, becoming something the clan feared rather than disgusted like he had been as a child, smiling and laughing through his hardships and when he would succeed
. over time, you knew he would want to sever his ties with the zen'in clan and actively encouraged him to do so, wanting your son to distance himself from the evil
. eventually, he grew larger than you and when you would roam the courtyard, toji would loom behind you and scare off all the people who used to ridicule you for birthing a monster and disgrace like him
. you remembered when young naoya approached, you knew he was there to see this toji zen'in, and you smiled down at the little boy, handing him your umbrella in the rain that you had previously been using to cover toji and youself
. in the future, maki would tell you that apparently toji had become naoya's chosen measure of strength and you his measure of what a good wife should be and look like. you told maki you were happy naoya took inspiration from someone good rather than any other zen'in despite how evil you both knew naoya was, twisting your and your son's image
. when toji told you that he had found a woman he loved, you were ecstatic and even more so when he said he would take her name
. you met her and helped her through her pregnancy not long after they married, helping with whatever they should need
. when toji's wife gave birth, you waited outside, not wanting to intrude on their moment and only entered after toji poked his head through the door, grunting at you and telling you to meet the brat
. you skipped past the nurse holding the baby to give to you, sitting by toji's wife and making sure she was okay (you knew what a hard pregnancy felt like after having toji)
. after being reassured she was okay, you moved onto toji, telling him to always do right by his son, that his son was a blessing and to never tell him otherwise, much like you told toji that he was your blessing when he was a child
. toji looked towards his wife, and decided to name him after your very words, megumi
. you held baby megumi after the other two passed out, toji in the chair behind his wife's bed, you told him stories about his father he would never remember to pass the time and to put himself above others because it was the only way to survive this world of jujutsu
. after toji and his wife woke back up, you kissed them both on the cheek goodbye and headed back to the clan, you supposed this was time to pay the debt you owed for letting your son live all those years ago
nanami kento.
. you had always known that your boy was strange, a little robotic if anything but you never minded, always smiling as you kissed his cheek and tucked him in
. when he told you he was seeing monsters, you were a little concerned but brushed it off as something childish, instead being happy about your son embracing the kid side of him
. how wrong could you have been
. as kento grew older you still babied him, much to his displeasure
. you bought him his band tees and paid for the haircuts you found a little too edgy for your liking but insisted they made him look handsome nonetheless
. when a strange sunglasses wearing man showed up at your house, informing you that your son could see curses and had something called a cursed technique used to exorcise them, you were concerned for the man and skeptical but thought back to kento's childhood and supposed it could be somewhat true
. kento told you he wanted to go to this school the man was telling you about, so you reluctantly let him into your house
. after some convincing, you eventually agreed
. when your boy started school, he told you about the only other in his year, yu haibara, who was a little too happy but somehow mixed in well with kento and the others in the year above him
. when haibara passed, you were devastated, having had that boy over to your house many times to the point you referred to him as yu
. when kento confessed to you that he wanted to leave jujutsu society, you said you would support him in every and any life he chose, but you knew that it wouldn't last, that jujutsu sorcery was his true calling, that it was his freedom
. when he told you he wanted to go back to jujutsu, you smiled knowingly, pressing a kiss to his forehead and packing his bags for tokyo
. kento came home after a mission once, accompanied by a younger man who introduced himself as ino takuma, both in need of some light patching up
. you accepted takuma as your second son immediately, adjusting his beanie slash mask so it was straight
. after shibuya, takuma came to your house with another boy, as you lived decently close and they were simply tired
. you welcomed them both in and they told you the news, sitting down in tears as you, takuma and the boy, yuji, held each other and sobbed
. after cleaning yourself up, you left the two on their own, while you prepared dinner for the three of you, kento's old favourite
. while the three of you sat, you told them about the trips you took your little boy on to malaysia whenever you could gather enough money to spare, at some point you called yuji yu and didn't notice, tears flowing again with the little comfort that now your two boys were together again
. after dinner you waved the boys off through your still flowing tears and then went and sat in your son's old room
This isn't an x reader, but Can we get Hashira's reactions to Gyomei with his adopted mother the reader who is a retired Hashira?
Gyomei's backstory is different for obvious reasons, basically the demon attacked Gyomei's orphanage when he was a young teenager instead of an young adult.
Instead of getting thrown in jail, he was forced to fend for himself. And nearly dying in the process because of his blindness.
But then the reader finds them and adopts them, and becomes the loving parent yet strict teacher, that Gyomei so desperately needed back in his youth.
Sorry if this is too long. :')
Summary: You find this young man, basically a boy, in the middle of the woods and take him back with you.
You were on your way back to the Corp's base, as your mission was done and over, you had slain the Demon you had been sent to eliminate, as told by young master Ubuyashiki himself.
What you didn't expect was to find a young man chained to the ground in the middle of the forest. There was a heavy collar around his neck, connected to a huge spike hammered into the ground by a chain.
You were confused as to why he was there... So you approached him, but you didn't expect him to call you out.
"Who's there?" He asked as he turned around, and you were about to reply when you noticed his milky white eyes. That's when you realized that he must have been blind.
"Don't be afraid," You called as you carefully made your way to him and Gods, he was huge for someone as young looking as him.
"I'm here to help." That being said, you unsheathed your sword and pointed it at the blind young man, "Hold still."
With a couple of well-aimed strikes, you cut the collar around his neck without even nicking him. The young man blinked as he felt his throat, and he looked stunned as he realized that you had released him.
"Boy," You started, "How old are you?"
"I'm... I'm 15..."
Still a baby. You frowned as you walked closer and offered your hand to him, "Someone as young as you shouldn't be in the middle of the woods like this. What would you do if you were attacked?"
The young man frowned as he accepted your hand, and you helped him up on his feet, and Gods, he was at least 2 feet taller than you.
"I'm... I'm sorry..." He apologized, and you asked, "Why were you chained to the ground like that?"
"It... It was my punishment..."
"Why?" You frowned, "What did you do?"
"They say I killed orphans I cared for..."
"Did you?"
"No!" He looked distressed and heartbroken, "It was a monster... I fought as hard as I could, but I couldn't save them..."
You understood that it must have been a Demon responsible for his loss and false arrest. Your heart ached for this young man, and you knew you wouldn't be able to leave him behind.
"Boy," You started, getting his attention, "What is your name?"
"My name..." He frowned, "I'm Gyomei. Gyomei Himejima."
"Would you like to come with me, Gyomei?"
He looked shocked by your question.
"Why?" He asked, "I'm-!"
"Innocent. I can tell." You nodded, "That is why I want you to come with me. To see- I mean, meet my Master."
"I'm..."
"Dead meat if you stay here for the night." You said, as you reached forward and gently grasped his huge hand in your petite one.
"Come with me," You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, "I don't want you to die."
Gyomei looked uncertain, but he nodded, accepting your help. So you led him through the woods and down the empty road until you came to the very secret Demon Slayer Corps' headquarters... Where young Master himself was waiting for you.
"Ah, it's a pleasure to see you, my Hashira." Master Ubuyashiki smiled, and you immediately dropped to your knees to honor your Master.
"I've slayed the Demon you sent me to kill." You replied as you hung your head in respect. Gyomei looked confused, as he didn't understand what was happening.
"You must be Himejima?" Master Ubuyashiki asked, and the young man nodded, "Y- Yes, that is my name... But how did you know it?"
"I heard about you and your trial," Young Master nodded with a small smile, "And I understand you are innocent and tried to save those children you looked after."
"I-!" Gyomei was speechless, but you weren't surprised. Your Master had eyes and ears everywhere.
"I would like to invite you to join us, the Demon Slayer Corps, and help us take down every Demon and the Demon King himself?"
"I'm-!" He was shocked, but also overly emotional as he understood that young Master and you believed in his innocence.
"It would be my greatest honor...!" Gyomei nodded as tears rose to his milky eyes and streamed down his handsome face.
"I'm glad," Master nodded and then looked at you, "My Hashira... Can I trust you to take care of young Gyomei?"
"It would be my absolute honor, Master." You nodded as you stood up, "I will take care of him."
And you did. You invited the young blind man to your home and started to train him how to fight and how to protect himself and the people he wanted to protect.
He was natural, and you were many times taken aback by his abilities. His blindness didn't seem to hold him back at all. He was strong and capable and held natural talent you had lacked yourself back then, when you were just a Slayer and not a Hashira yet.
You liked to think that you had a big heart... But yours was nowhere nearly as big as Gyomei's was. It was one trait in him that you loved... Yes, you loved him, but not like that.
He was like the son you never had.
You were a strict teacher to him, but a loving and supportive mother figure also. You made sure to feed him properly to ensure his growth and uphold his strength, and you loved to listen to him play that Shakuhachi flute you gifted to him when you heard him mention that he had played one when he was younger.
He was strong and had so much potential in him... And his heart was just as big as the rest of him.
So you couldn't be prouder when he was promoted to Hashira. To take your place. It was your greatest honor to retire and let him take your position... Yet he seemed troubled.
"Gyomei, my boy, what is wrong?" You asked as you looked up at him, winching slightly as your back and shoulders ached slightly.
"Namu Amida Butsu..." The huge Hashira prayed as he rolled those red prayer beads of his between his strong fingers, "I'm honored... But also so sad..."
"Why so?"
"I'm... You...? Namu..." He seemed to be at a loss for words. You smiled as you recognized his kindness and thoughtfulness.
"Gyomei..." You hummed as you reached high above you and gently ruffled his dark hair, "I love you so much, you know that, right?"
"Yes," He nodded, automatically kneeling a little so you could reach his head better, "And I love you, Sensei..."
"You can call me mother!" You laughed, "You're basically a son to me!"
"Namu Amida Butsu..." He started crying harder, "I cherish you... Mother..."
"And I love you, my dear boy." You smiled, "Don't get killed out there and come visit my manor sometimes. I'll make sure to prepare your favorite meals for you!"
"Namu," He nodded as he opened his arms and wrapped them around you, hugging and holding you so close to him you could almost hear his heartbeat through his chest.
"I will..."
"Good boy," You hugged him back, "My good boy Gyomei..."
