also, cole sprouse looks like he hasn’t slept. like, ever. not once in his entire life. like every time jughead is onscreen i just want to jump into the TV and be like no, stop. stop it, jughead. stop talking, stop writing your novel, stop narrating and Go To Bed. Sleep, My Son. please, for the love of god, sleep.
Prompt: Someone insults/disrespect batmom in front of the boys and they defend/protect her.
You glare at the front page of the Gotham Gazette before your eyes go to your sons. “You went too far,” you finally say.
Jason just laughs, “I think we didn’t go far enough.”
Dick smiles, “We gave him two black eyes, Damian poured chocolate pudding down his pants, Tim hacked and exposed some rather scandalous things, and he’s not even bringing up a law suit because he’s afraid of what would happen if he did.”
You stare at them, “I could have handled it.”
Tim shrugs, “You’re our mom, no one calls you Bruce Wayne’s whore, asks you how much you cost a night, and gets away with it.”
Damian smirks, “Honestly, you should be worried about what father will do when he gets back from his mission.”
You lean forward, “You will not tell him about this.”
Jason’s smile widens, “Don’t have to, Alfred already did.” You just groan.
The rustling of fabric and of hushed murmurs coaxes you awake, and your sleep-heavy eyes light upon the silhouette of your husband’s tall form, dark against the moonlit window where he stands whispering to a tiny, swaddled bundle in his arms.
“I must have slept through his crying,” you mumble apologetically, raising yourself on your elbows with a haphazard pass of your hand over your tousled hair.
“He didn’t cry,” Thranduil murmurs, still looking into the wide eyes of your newborn son with an adoring smile playing about his lips, “I heard him stirring and thought to soothe him so you might sleep.”
Stubbornly, you push yourself into a sitting position, but Thranduil comes to your side with an imploring look, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand as he pleads, “meleth, please, you pour yourself out to care for him, and I would not have you overtired…and you know I do not require the rest that you do.”
You relent with gratitude, subsiding on your pillow as Thranduil tucks the comforter around you and presses an affectionate kiss to your forehead before retreating quietly to the window again, and you relax into sleep once more with your heart full and the picture of your husband’s awestruck, loving gaze vivid in your mind.
Bruce trying to defend Jason at a school meeting after Jason punched a kid
what seems to be the issue?
your son punched my son that's the issue
ok but why did Jason punch your kid? There's got to be a reason.
well because your son punched my kid we can assume your son is violent and if you don't do anything about it I can assume he'll end up in a gang Mr.Wayne
*clearly offended* ASSUMPTION WONT GET US ANYWHERE MR-MR COPELAND BECAUSE IF WERE GOING OFF OF ASSUMPTION WE CAN ASSUME THAT YOUR WIFE WONT ONLY HAVE TO TEND TO YOUR SONS BLACK EYE BUT SHE'LL HAVE TO ATTEND TO YOURS ASWELL.
JASON GET YOUR BAG WERE GOING OUT FOR MCDONALDS
For the first time in a while the house is thoroughly clean, there’s no spills, no sticky patches, no random crackers on the floor, nothing. The house is entirely clean and full of festivity as your son waddles around trying to find something to get himself into. You hear the front door open and your sons eyes at once peek over at you, “ah, is daddy home?” You coo, watching as the little boy keeps a neutral expression before turning back to watching the Christmas lights on the tree. “Hi, my two favourite people.” Harry blissfully, yet tiredly greets coming into view just as he leans down and kisses your cheek. “Hi, it’s about time you come home.” You smile up at him, a sigh escaping his lips.
“I know, I know. I’m two days over due, I’ll make it up to you.” He cracks a smile, “now where is my lil fella?” He chimes, turning around to see his child twiddling with the Christmas balls on the tree. “Whatcha doin’ baby?” He coos, grabbing his sons attention and scooping him up in his arms. “Ah you’re getting big.” He bounces the boy on his hip, gently poking at his little stomach. “Y/N why is my son dressed as a reindeer?” Harry questions, placing a small kiss to his sons chubby cheek.
“Because it’s cute.” You wear a smile,
“Darlin’ we brought your niece this exact onesie.” He comments,
“It was cute, he doesn’t know the difference.”
“Can we possibly refrain from dressing our son as a reindeer with pretty pink bows?”
“Would you prefer me to dress him as a baby elf?”
“Yes, I don’t like the bows.”
“So, are you saying only girls can wear bows?”
“No, no, no. I’m just saying- damnit. Okay, I don’t the bows.” Harry groans, bouncing his son on his hip.
“Fine, but I heard no complaints from him.” You gesture to your baby boy as he coos and giggles at Harry.
“Honey, that’s because he can’t talk.” Harry chuckles,
“I suppose.” You sigh, “if you’d give me a girl I wouldn’t have to dress our son with pretty bows.” You smile with a sneering smile, watching as he rolls his eyes.
“We can discuss that later. How about some daddy cuddles? Hmm?” Harry coos as he places yet another kiss to his sons forehead. “Cuddles, I like that.” Harry continues, falling beside you on the couch and playing with the little one. “Can you say daddy? Da-dd-y” harry a bit slowly enunciates, hoping to convince his son to verbalise Daddy.
All that you both have managed to get from him is casual babbling and occasionally he says “Da.” There’s no doubt in your mind that your son will utter daddy long before mummy, unfortunately he doesn’t even babble “Mu/Ma”
“Daddy.” Harry continues to voice, your sons hazel eyes glancing up at Harry with slight confusion. “Da” your son points to you, giggling to himself, “that’s mummy.” Harry smiles, “mummy, daddy.” He gestures between the two of you.
“Da.” Your son holds his arms to you, squeezing his hands open and shut, “aw, but daddy wants to love on you.” Harry sighs with a small pout,
“Daddy wants to play.” You coo to your son, poking his cute cheeks and placing a small kiss to his nose.
“We still need to take him to see Santa.” Harry comments,
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, I think he will cry.”
“All kids do, it’s part of the fun.”
“Are you going to stand in the hour Long line with me and then spend an hour settling our son after seeing Santa?” You question, knowing very well that your son will shed tears like every other toddler tends to do.
“Yes, I’ll be there.” Harry nods,
“Uh huh, just like you came Christmas shopping?” You raise a brow, watching as he rolls his eyes,
“I was drunk when I agreed to that. You know I hate Christmas shopping and the damn crowds.”
“Oi, language!” You scold,
“Babe, he’s not going to repeat me when I say damn. He doesn’t repeat daddy. He won’t say damn.” Harry comments taking absolutely no care to the little ears.
“If he says damn, I’m blaming you.” You nudge Harry gently,
“You just said it, it’s your fault too.” Harry chuckles, “isn’t that right? Hmm. Isn’t mummy to blame too?” Harry tickles the little boy, watching as his eyes light up and he giggles louder.
After constant giggles and babbles your little boy is quietly curled up on Harry, nestled comfortably into him as he becomes sleepy. “I’ve missed this.” Harry reveals, distracting you from the Christmas movie on the television.
“Yeah, but work is work.” You yawn, looking over and smiling at how cutely your son is cuddled up. Picture perfect moment.
“Mhm, so you want another one of these little guys, huh?” Harry gestures to the sleepy toddler,
“I want a girl.” You nod, moving closer and cuddling into Harry’s side,
“What, are us men not good enough for ya?” He jokes, an arm draping around you as the other continues to stay securely around the boy.
“More than enough, but you won’t let me dress our son in cute girly things.” You pucker your face,
“Sorry, baby. You know, if we try again we could end up with another boy.” He winks, “I wouldn’t mind another boy. Start an army of good men.” He chuckles to himself,
“If we try again, we could have a girl for Christmas.” You chime, not exactly wanting a male dominated house.
“We also could have another boy.”
“Don’t jinx it. So is that a yes to trying again?” You blessedly question, taking note as the little boy is fast asleep, his soft snores just being heard.
“Don’t see why not. We made one adorable lil one, might as well make another.” He responds, “but first, I’m putting him down, he’s slobbering on me.” He screws his nose up, carefully standing to his feet. You decide to trail behind him as he takes your son to his room, watching as Harry carefully puts him in his crib.
Harry steps out of the baby’s room, looking down at you with gleaming eyes. “Hm, in the spirit of Christmas shall we watch another Christmas movie?” He softly asks, licking his lips imperceptibly, your eyes unable to gaze away from his.
“We could.” You nod, “or we could do something else.” You whisper, your arms lightly wrapping around his neck,
“Hmm, and what may that be?”
“I don’t know, the possibilities are endless.” You respond with a soft voice, his lips instantly crashing down on yours, engulfing the two of you into a passionate kiss. He gently pulls away, eyes glistening light the Christmas lights, “so, bedroom?” He questions, his hands moving to rest on your hips,
“No, I wanna watch elf.” You shake your head with a smirk,
“Are you kidding?” He mutters, moving his hands to grasp your behind.
“Definitely.” You nod, placing soft kisses on his neck,
“Mmm.” He sounds, carefully lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom, making sure not to separate your lips from his tender skin.
From the moment you woke up as a vampire, all you would do was sit by your son. You had decided you wanted to take a different approach than Alec was, he was always on edge. He believed with the rate your son was growing, you’d only have him for a month.
“Alec.” you said, as you shut the door to your son’s room. “You can’t keep acting like this in front of him. He knows somethings wrong.” you explained.
“What am I supposed to do Y/N!? I’ve dreamed of this since the moment I was born, and now I have it and I’m going to lose it.” he argued.
“He’s our son Alec! Why are you thinking like this?” you whisper-yelled, trying to avoid waking your son.
“What happens when he’s dead?” Alec asked.
“I’m going to die?” a small voice whined behind you, you quickly turned with wide eyes, seeing your son with tears building in his eyes.
“No baby.” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m never letting anything happen to you.”