#I HOPE THAT MAKES SENSE HAHAHAHA

[inkykeiji]

OKAY DADDY DABI AND A FATHER??? I swear to god everything that man does is hot at this point. I didnt expect to like the idea omg

yes!!! his baby has the sweetest name too but i shall keep that a secret until the first part is posted!!! honestly, i’ve written it in a way where his kid is central to the plot and has a big purpose for being in the story, but also in a way that doesn’t hinder/cumber/bog down the actual relationship between dabi and the reader and instead only works to enhance it. i find that a lot of the time including a child in a story can often make the story revolve more around them than the romantic relationship or anything else, and i really hate that LMAO (truly just a personal preference!), so i was very conscious not to do that!

[gordonfreemanspussy]

happy october :]

@scienceteamtober day 1: before the game

with lovely beautiful awesome forever character art by @winkreallyisntable goes CRAZY!!! full art below the cut.

[rockwgooglyeyes]

Been thinking of the 4 Musketeers of Miscommunication for a while (as evident by my posts tbh)

What would Faisal 's and Yume's dynamic be like, or just what would be Faisal's thoughts on Yume? Listening to God-ish cover by MaeFae/Mae Claire, and I think some of the lyrics work in Faisal's pov, but I don't really know-

hello Kellie hiii!!!

I definitely agree with you on some of the lyrics in God-ish working from Faisal's perspective, especially the "that's enough (x4), it's big, it's big, your dream, it's big, profitable yet graciousness is the end" and "I hate you, I hate you, who's the pest now?" (I will also admit I listened to the original PinnocchioP version because I like his stuff *sweats*)

Ironically, Faisal's thoughts on Yume could probably be summed up in the lines, "is the nature of meta-thinking malice? Artifice that looks down on others, (the artifice being Yume himself) (...), a flickering light consumed by authority, (Yume's happiness consumed by the Aliens and the way they warped his perceptions on connection and affection) pretending to be God by denying God, (the way that Yume thinks of himself as better than others, above the rest because he was specifically made to be better) (...), a prayer of self-discipline disguised as criticism" (the way that Yume doesn't seem to like himself much despite his constant self-aggrandizement)

Faisal is more perceptive than a lot of people give him credit. After all, how could he be as good as he is at pretending and hiding if he didn't already understand how other people hide their flaws and what exactly they see when they look at others? He can tell that Yume's smile doesn't reach his eyes, more often than not, that it's reflexive rather than empty, that Yume plays a part just as he does. Yume still wigs him out though because Faisal might consciously know that Yume isn't a threat/isn't actually that weird but instinctively he's like "WTF" every time Yume enters the room

I think that Faisal and Yume's dynamic would probably be similar to that of Ivantill's while they're at Anakt Garden (though when they're older) with Yume surprising and teasing and taunting Faisal while Faisal is just like "wtf what are you doing oh my god why what stop it YUME fucking hell." Admittedly, Faisal would be a little more damage-control oriented than Till is (I know Yume isn't necessarily destructive but I do think that Faisal views him as someone in need of wrangling. Faisal gives himself that responsibility lmao) but there's an echo of Ivantill in there. imo

[svtskneecaps]

feel like the global tasks sweep strat should probably be nerfed somehow. my thought would be, give each team an individual ten minute overall cooldown on global task claims. that is to say, a certain team can only claim one global task per ten minutes. say, deliver gas masks, and then in ten minutes you're allowed to deliver tea, and then after another ten minutes you can claim hot chocolate.

another teams would be able to claim a global task for bananas during this time, and their own ten minute cooldown would start.

(the global tasks can either keep their individual ten minute cooldown [i.e. after tea is claimed no one else can claim tea for ten minutes] or a slightly shorter cooldown, say 5-7 minutes)

when a global task is claimed, everyone is notified, right? if not, in my hypothetical, they will be.

then, a team trying to sweep six tasks at once would actually take sixty minutes to do, allowing another team to swoop in and have a chance to stop it in cinematic, entertaining fashion rather than tubbo having to grind resources and then log out in front of the merchant to counter this, which is boring for everyone (including the person delivering). plus, if a team cuts it down to the last second and ends up getting delayed, they physically wouldn't have time to make a delivery, meaning even being a BIT of a nuisance could be a viable strategy, even if you can't manage to kill; if you can STALL you could still wreck their plans.

that's my dream anyway idk i'm not a game designer. just think it would be interesting for most players

(i elaborate under)

red team would have to shake up their strategies, which is fun since they're a team that kinda has to rely more on strategy than outright brawn (overall the team's pvp can't be relied on unless they have carre or phil, as seen today when pierre, bad, and etoiles attacked phil cellbit foolish and baghera, and cellbit and foolish both died to etoiles in the attack, despite it being a 4 on 1 at the time. baghera was killed by bad soon after. phil was the one to get the kills. the first day, when blue attacked [niki, tubbo, and bad as i recall] carre got both kills)

the other teams would then still have a way to stop a global sweep since a sweep would have to start earlier, allowing not only more time to arrive at global to pvp about it, but ALSO allowing another team to swoop in and steal the goal out from under the team again

i'm gonna use it in a scenario bc i'm badboyhalo and i can't stop myself from making examples:

so, tonight, if the proposed cooldown was in place, bad and tubbo would both still had roughly 17 minutes when red team would have HAD to start the sweep process if they wanted all six global tasks: 1 hour until the server closed at absolute MINIMUM. more for safety's sake.

therefore, in this scenario, there's a lot to happen

blue team could wait at globals, knowing red will probably try this strategy, and attempt or perhaps SUCCEED in killing red. if they kill red entirely, the operation is a wash; red doesn't have to gear to come back from scratch and take out blue team, and even if they could, the travel time to return to globals alone would mean they wouldn't get all the global tasks, potentially meaning they don't take the lead. if blue team is unable to kill red and dies themselves or has to retreat, but succeeds in delaying red, red would face the same problem.

if red sends in all of the task items on one person, and that person dies, even if the rest survived, blue could loot the items from that person and would be able to either use the items themselves, if green is currently the owner, or could run away with the items, effectively wasting red's time and again, meaning they wouldn't get all tasks claimed even if they were able to overtake the runner and reclaim their items.

i'm unclear what would happen if red divided the task items between them since it seems like the person claiming the task doesn't have to have all (or any? again, unclear) the items in THEIR inventory in order to claim so long as a teammate is nearby with the items in their inv (evidence: pac's vod "voltei... o que tá acontecendo no QSMP?!" at roughly 3:00:00; tubbo claims tea and tea is taken out of pac's inventory. i don't know the limits of this strategy)

blue team also has time to swoop in and steal a global task out from under red during this time. say, if red team had claimed the task for 10 tea leaves, upping the price to 15 tea leaves, and then blue team snuck in and claimed the task and set the price up to 20 tea leaves, (since the proposed 10 minute cooldown on claims would be TEAM LIMITED; red's cooldown applying to red only and so on). if red waited until the last second, they wouldn't have the time to reclaim this task even if they did have the resources, possibly forcing them to start their sweep earlier to counter this possibility, at which point team members who had logged on earlier and are out of time by the end of the night, OR members who live in time zones that don't allow them to stay up until server close, may have an easier shot at participating in defending against a global sweep.

all of this DIRECT CONFLICT would make for good audience entertainment and heighten the stakes of an attempted global sweep, since it would practically have to be one team defending globals for an hour while they pipe all their resources into it, knowing that if they die another team could easily swipe their task resources and use it themselves (along with the rest of their gear). it makes it more interesting, while still mostly viable.

plus it would force more strategizing for red team which is maybe just a personal plus, i just really like seeing people planning both in advance and in spur of the moment. it's really satisfying to see how a plan comes together and succeeds or fails; plus, since red team is the main team using this strategy at the moment and their main draw and strength as a team is cohesion and communication this would be completely fucking riveting for me as a viewer so maybe this is just a personal thing. but i really really think it would be fun

but again, i'm not a game designer, or a qsmp player, or a qsmp admin, or honestly even really a gamer? so maybe i'm off my rocker and out of my gourd and this isn't viable or balanced in any way shape or form but YKNOW what is this blog except putting stupid thoughts into the void and seeing if this time the void spits back hate mail so. i'm folding this into a paper airplane and throwing it into the abyss. hopefully it made sense.

k love you appreciate you getting this far, have a good week!!

(i hope your team gets a win in dramatic fashion and celebrates together!!! i hope they come together and unleash a plan so spectacular it takes the server by storm!!! i hope it's so good it becomes a vod you go back to even years in the future!!!! i hope you have a good week!!!!!)

[vcrnons]

,

[melien]

It's time to admit I have a favourite child

[clemencetaught]

a heart to heart with best gremlin child ( @mythvoiced from here )

It’s always the victors from the rebel districts who take it the hardest.

Oh yes, Patrick might be considered part of Snow’s council and among the victors, the inner circle most favored by the Capitol, but saying he’s ignorant is like saying Devora has lost her edge.

It helps, on hand, knowing someone who wades shamelessly amongst the rebel circles. Whether he wanted to or not is a very different story mind you- it still amazes Patrick to this day, Hyuk insisting that they keep their bond despite opposing philosophies. It also helps living in one of the strongest hubs for anti-Capitol sentiments. Sure, the districts have been at the mercy of the Capitol for more than half a century, but just as time can weaken sentiments, it can easily strengthen the very same ones. Even if the original holders of such resentments have gone to the grave, does not mean the anger follows.

Their descendants will carry it, cradle it alongside their own. 

It’s no wonder María’s so angry. A young victor, barely even twenty and expected not only to swallow her own anger, but also close to 74 years of anger from District Eight, a particularly rebellious district. Patrick wouldn’t be surprised if Hyuk had some kind of communication with the rebels from there. 

Joan of Arc was the Harbinger of Hope for an ancient kingdom under tyranny, they once said, but what they forget is that hope is merely anger, well channeled. 

“But that’s the reality, is it not?” Or so he says, a shroud falling over his eyes. Her touch burns and for a moment he’s on his last line of defense- if they can see past the facade then, he will make sure there is a chasm waiting for them beyond. It’s safer that way. Easier that way too. 

Sure, he doesn’t care much for what happens to himself, hasn’t for a long time- in comparison to her, if they call her Joan of Arc, then he’s one of the soldiers she’s slain in the name of her crusade. Something depraved. Less than human. But it doesn't mean that it still...smarts when he thinks about it. Hurts more than he'll ever admit to, looking back on the long line of deeds he's degraded himself with. “It doesn’t do to deny what lies in front of us.”

For all the rage that emanates from her very being, she’s a small thing. A tiny, fragile candle flame in the face of a long winter. Even if she wanted to grow into a wildfire, they’d snuff her out before she could even realize how far she could go. Maybe he’s using his height to his advantage here, staring down on her not too differently from a disappointed teacher at their student. There’s a reason he and Devora are considered two peas in a pod.

They both know he is right. That winning the games is only the beginning. That being hollowed out from the inside by the violence, the bloodshed of the games is only the first part and now the remaining husk is a mere plaything for the Capitol to lay their hands on. 

They say she is a harbinger of hope, but the reality is that she’s just the newest commodity of dissent that the Capitol’s youth so love to listen to. 

“Whether you want to believe me or not,” he continues, “This is the reality we live in now- whether you want to change it or uphold it, you will still have to adapt to it. The Capitol may have made the rules, but if you understand them, then you will know more about the Capitol than it does about itself.”

Fishing a handkerchief from his pocket, he leans down, sternness giving way to something…gentler, more sympathetic. Nevermind the fact that the handkerchief is as white as snow ( and that it was a ‘going-away’ present from one of his ‘very generous’ clients ), he wipes away the mascara that has trailed down her face. The makeup stains his handkerchief in ink black rivelets; her hair is next. He’s just glad she hasn’t ruined the dress the stylists have put her in ( yet ). Fixing a piece of clothing is not within his makeshift expertise- he picks up the brush on the dresser.

Patrick wouldn’t have seen this for himself, being scarily proficient at doing hair and applying makeup to others when he barely does neither on himself, but isn’t that who Patrick is supposed to be? The unofficial mentor for the victors and when words aren’t enough, then actions will bridge the gap. Tangible movements that make this hellhole just a little more bearable. He hands her the brush.

“Do you want me to do it, or can you do it yourself?”

[kamipyre]

@lovlorne sent in: let's hear aboutttt... ray :} || the paper machine's gossip session ( ft. talk about meme )

send “talk about-” and a name for my muse to talk about that person!

scorched verse:

“He needs to broaden his HORIZONS.” And she’s not just talking from one shore…for one thing, he ( @bloodxhound ) still hasn’t budged ( and probably will never ) on his cruelty towards crocs. But that’s a long-term goal- for now, she can settle with the one that gives her a bit more flexibility! “He says he doesn’t mind seaweed, which I think is more than a start!” After all, seaweed is the lettuce of the ocean…if Ray can digest that then bonito flakes are more than doable. That being said, she is getting off-topic and needs to talk about the detective himself- “…He’s weird. He’s all for wrecking stuff and making Mister Godot write reports about it, but then he’s all orderly about like, his stuff. And schedule.” Like how he drags her to the gym with him at least two times every month and unless there’s a case going on, he visits the gym almost every day. “He gives me free paper. And food! Even if his opinions there are wrong half of the time- but it’s okay! We have TIME to convince him otherwise!”

embers verse:

Eyes widen ever so slightly. Well that’s a name she hasn’t heard in a while- where did they hear that name? One that was once at the center of the biggest scandals within LAPD has now become a relic of an old era. A name that is only whispered in passing as if the owner himself has died. But really, it’s been what, a year or two since he resigned? Her fingers fold. “…He said he’d be back.” Her voice is firm, eyes steady. That’s why he gave her Paper Moozy and its city, didn’t he? Ray’s not the kind of break his promises anyway. “If he were here, we wouldn’t be dealing with half of these problems. He wouldn’t stand for it.” Of course that could be said about the others too- the ones who care more about the truth than a spotless record. If they were here, perhaps the public wouldn’t have lost faith in the LAPD either. Her fingers keep moving. “He’ll be back. I know it.” 

In her hands, there’s a paper replica of MOOZILLA.

[ofgentleresolve]

☀ + topic idea ( feel free to answer all, some, or none of these !! : D ) . . . collaboration in rp as a topic! some specific questions on it: I know you do a lot of world-building and have so many ideas for your characters that aren’t necessarily tied to rp… how do you balance being a collaborative and open rp partner, with making sure you maintain the integrity of your characters and your own ideas? is that a compromise you sometimes have to make, or is it never an issue for you?

and a more simple/crack-y q: have you or would you ever do other forms of roleplay, such as DnD and/or LARPing events??

winter enables my rambling :3 ( ask me anything about rp meme w/ @velvetineblue )

send a ☀ along with a roleplay related topic to hear my thoughts on it. Ask me anything!

WINTER!! that's an excellent question ( although you always ask thoughtful questions in mi opinion <3

. . . collaboration in rp as a topic! some specific questions on it: I know you do a lot of world-building and have so many ideas for your characters that aren’t necessarily tied to rp… how do you balance being a collaborative and open rp partner, with making sure you maintain the integrity of your characters and your own ideas? is that a compromise you sometimes have to make, or is it never an issue for you?

so when i started here again, one thing i decided early on to focus on alongside threads is world building ( ie in some cases that's really just character development ). because rp requires a lot of patience and sometimes people's schedules don't line up/one party has more free time, it helps for me to have something i can work on independently/pour my creative energies into while waiting for replies and plotting messages.

as for balance tho!! it's not really an issue for me mostly because ( and i don't recommend doing this actually sjflksdjf ) for all I say that i love plotting with people, i'm actually very selective with who i plot with in depth. of course basic plotting, i don't mind doing with newcomers, but generally if we're talking in-depth, i usually like to observe either a. how our writing mesh, b. how they run their blog, or c. how they act ooc wise in conversation and on dash before really starting to plot in depth. with these factors in mind, i can usually figure out if how well we'll get along. at first, i'll let them have say, a more surface level connection with my muse that way if i don't think we won't work as well together, i won't be too attached to the dynamic...( the exceptions of course are the ones who jump into in depth plotting from the beginning and in those cases, their energy can be infectious <3 )

if i think it's a good match tho, that's when i let my partner participate on a deeper level in my character's lore, enough to let that affect my character in a crucial manner. at that point, that's when i know they are actually interested in my characters and would want me to play them true to who they are rather than what they and their characters alone will get out of the connection. i think it also helps that a lot of the dynamics i have plotted with muses who play significant roles in my muses' lives they are inherently positive....if there are any topics/dynamics that i think are intense or more on the negative side, i'm more inclined to make my own npc/use my own muses ( ex. felicity in patrick's thg verse, that's where i explore what it means to be a victor ) instead of with someone else's muse to explore that.

that and most if not all of my muses tend to be more on the agreeable/cooperative side so they're inclined to be pleasant/not too extreme with other people ic i think i'm just lucky like that jfklsdjflskdjf also i do make sure that any actions that are taken by my muse, i try to make sure it's a response that doesn't overstep personal boundaries/i have an ooc conversation beforehand if it can veer into that territory....but finally! if it feels like in a thread the other mun seems upset that my muse was a tad more unpleasant than they wanted them to be....i usually drop the thread :/

and a more simple/crack-y q: have you or would you ever do other forms of roleplay, such as DnD and/or LARPing events??

probably not and not necessarily because I'm not interested, but because i know i would be the WORST at it....unfortunately, i'm really really bad at acting/doing accents even if it is among friends 😂 there's just like?? a barrier that i can't quite get past...this is probably why i do so well with tumblr rp since i feel more comfortable with letting loose in my writing rather than in person :'D

[inkykeiji]

There's literally no reason for me 2 send u this but it's so funny how u respond to an ask and then write an entire novel in the hashtags 😭😭

i knOWWWWWWW anon u don’t need to call me out like this (◞‸◟；) i try not to but it’s become such a habit that the tags almost feel empty and wrong when i don’t have much to say >.< i usually use the tags to vent or ramble tho LMAO like,, it’s stuff that isn’t especially important or relevant enough to the ask itself to be included in the ‘main answer’

[chocobosdungeon2]

I dont know if anyone else felt this way, but Barbieland had an affect on me in a way I really didnt expect.

Starting the film there, its just fun and silly and camp. Yes of course all the Barbies do every job and they have political power its this crazy pink paradise hahahaha

And then when she goes to the real world, rollerblading down Venice Beach, I found myself accutely feeling the loss. That Barbieland was a world without those gazes to make you self consious. The freedom to exist in 'sexy' outfits without being sexualized. Barbieland had that! I didnt appreciate how comforting that was until Barbie lost it.

And then when the Kens take over, its comedic and Im laughing, but there was something in me that was deeply uncomfortable. I squirmed at every brainwashed Barbie's line. Their subservience made me... sad. Sad in a way I've yet to really put my finger on. But it wasnt until this scene that I realized that I was attached to Barbieland's fantasy as a safe place. I was a little taken aback by how much I wanted this toy land's status quo back.

Im struggling to find the words to express what I mean, but I hope Im not alone in this feeling I got. I think beginning the film in Barbieland before the audience has a chance to compare the real world (as presented in the film) to it was a stroke of genius. It really lets you get into Barbie's head as she experiences these jarring changes. And at least in my case, it lulled me into a false sense of security that set me up for a big emotional smack later on.

[bighungrywolf]

Jake walked into the living room of his apartment, a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch a movie with his friends. However, as an act of magic, they had mysteriously disappeared. It didn't make sense, Jake had only been in the kitchen for about 3 minutes making the popcorn, and had his friends had to leave he was sure he would have been told. But then, looking up a little, he saw his roommate, and it dawned on him how big a mistake it had been to leave his two friends alone in the living room, without keeping an eye on his roommate.

"W… where are my friends?" asked Jake shakily, already knowing the answer, but somehow hoping for a miracle whereby his partner Bruce hadn't done his thing again.

"Ooooh, you know damn well where they are" replied Bruce, patting his bulging belly a couple of times. "It's been a while since you brought any friends home, I was beginning to think that for some reason you didn't want them to meet me, like you were ashamed of me, that hurts, eh? Although… Buuuuuuuurp, I guess the fact that the last guy you brought home ended up in my stomach, doesn't help you wanting to introduce me to more of your friends, hahaha. I suppose you had your reasons for not bringing new… snacks home, but in the end it was worth the wait. Your friends turned out delicious, especially the one with glasses, who after devouring your other friend was left quivering and unable to move, just the way I like my prey to stay, ready to become my dessert" for a moment Bruce paused to stretch and yawn, noticing how all that food in his stomach and the beginning of digestion was making him sleepy. "Oh, we should do this more regularly, I'm in bulking season, and I can always use some extra protein to build my muscles, hahaha. I guess now you're going to say you never want to bring anyone home again, right? Well, if I were you I'd think twice, because you don't want to have a starving pred whose only prey at hand is you. Now, if you want to keep me happy, start caressing this stomach, this digestion is not going to happen by itself, and besides, it's awful if you don't say a last goodbye to your friends, hahahaha" said Bruce, looking suggestively at Jake, who knew he had no choice but to obey everything he told him if he didn't want to be next.

[amethystarachnid]

Can you write for me Amnesia trope from Marvel Bingo with Tony/Fem reader? Tony is a little injured after a mission and he loses his memory, when reader is going to see him (wife or girlfriend) he won't recognize her but he'll immediately fall for her all over again 🥺 she thinks it's absolutely cute that he didn't recognize her but soon he'll recover his memory and blush so hard when reader shows him his videos of him all smitten by her hahahaha ❤️ and Tony saying he'll alwyas fall for her 🥺 (some spicy kisse maybe?)

ALWAYS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: Because of an injury Tony temporarily loses his memories of you, his wife, and you're determined to make him gain them back. Do you really need to do so when he has already fallen back in love with you?

ᯓ★ TW(s): memory loss and clingy Tony

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The beeping. It’s the first thing you notice when you step into the hospital room—the insistent, steady beep of the heart monitor that Tony’s hooked up to. It’s steady, strong, and for that, you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The smell of antiseptic stings your nose, reminding you that, despite Tony's resilience, he's as vulnerable as any of them in situations like these.

The mission had gone wrong in ways you didn’t see coming. Stark Industries had developed tech that a rival group decided they wanted to “borrow”—forcefully. What was supposed to be a simple extraction turned into a messy firefight. But, like always, Tony had pushed you to evacuate, promising he’d be right behind you. Instead, an explosion threw him from his suit, leaving him vulnerable to the final assault. He had barely gotten out before going down hard.

Now, you’re here, nerves raw and trembling as you hover by the doorway, watching him.

Tony is sitting up, but he seems…distant. Disoriented, maybe. His eyes are half-lidded, his lips pressed into a thin line as if he’s trying to make sense of something in the middle distance. It’s unnerving because you’re used to a Tony whose attention burns, even when he’s exhausted, half-buried in his lab, or just waking up. He sees everything.

But not this time. And for some reason, he doesn’t see you.

“Mrs. Stark?”

You turn as the doctor enters, offering you a sympathetic look. It’s a look that’s meant to ease you into news you know you don’t want to hear.

“Is he…awake?”

The doctor nods, gesturing you toward the chair by Tony’s bed. “He’s stable. His vitals are strong. The issue, Mrs. Stark, is that there appears to be some level of memory loss.”

The words clang in your ears, foreign and cold, completely out of place in the world you’ve built with Tony. “What do you mean by ‘memory loss’?”

She sighs, glancing at Tony before she speaks. “Memory loss is complicated. From what I’ve gathered, Mr. Stark has retained his long-term memories and most of his professional knowledge. But, due to the trauma and subsequent disorientation, there’s a block on more recent events…particularly in his personal life.”

Your stomach drops, and you take a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. “He doesn’t remember me, does he?”

“I’m afraid not,” she says softly. “In many cases, memories return with time and familiar cues. Given Mr. Stark’s particular cognitive resilience, I have high hopes for recovery. But until then, he may…struggle with recognition and personal connections.”

You nod slowly, trying to take it all in. In all the battles, the missions, the threats, this is somehow scarier. Because it’s not just his body that’s wounded; it’s your life together that’s fractured.

When the doctor leaves, you take a step forward, but your feet feel leaden, hesitant. And for once, you don’t know what to say. This isn’t just Tony after a rough mission. This is your husband, and he doesn’t know you.

Finally, you muster the courage and approach the bed, offering him a soft, tentative smile. “Hey there, stranger.”

He looks up, his gaze sharp but confused, and something in his eyes flickers with a shade of recognition—a spark that leaves you hoping. But then he blinks, and it’s gone.

“Do I, uh, know you?” His tone is polite, curious, but there’s a guardedness to it, as if he’s unsure if he’s supposed to recognize you. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart over you, taking you in, and a pang of sadness tugs at your heart as you realize he’s assessing you the way he might a stranger.

You laugh softly, forcing down the lump in your throat. “You could say that. I’m…” You hesitate, wondering if it’s too much to say it outright, but the words slip out before you can stop them. “I’m your wife.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he stares at you, stunned. “My wife?”

“Yes.” You smile, more gently this time, as though that will ease him into the idea. “For almost three years now.”

Tony blinks, and you can see his mind racing, struggling to process this unexpected piece of information. He gives a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn. I…you’re telling me I’m married to you?”

His shock is genuine, and for a moment, a bubble of laughter escapes you. It’s that classic Tony Stark reaction—equal parts disbelief and awe, as if he can’t quite believe his good luck.

“Yes,” you say again, and this time, there’s a hint of amusement in your voice. “You managed to convince me somehow.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a lopsided grin that’s both endearing and achingly familiar. “Wow. I must be one hell of a salesman.”

“Oh, you are.” The laughter fades from your voice as you take a step closer, unable to resist the need to be nearer to him, even if he doesn’t remember you right now. “You’re the best.”

For a moment, he studies you, his gaze flickering with something like curiosity, maybe even admiration. It’s a glimmer of the old Tony, the man who made you feel like the only person in the room, no matter the crowd or chaos. But here, with him looking at you as a stranger might, there’s something raw and beautiful about it, too. He’s falling in love with you all over again, right in front of your eyes.

“Well, I guess I should feel lucky,” he murmurs, a faint smile playing on his lips. “If you’re half as amazing as you look, then…yeah. Lucky guy.”

The words make your heart flutter, and despite everything, you feel a warmth spread through you, easing the tightness in your chest. He’s still Tony, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“Want to know a little about us?” you ask, hoping that maybe, somehow, it will trigger something—some hidden memory or spark of recognition.

He nods, settling back against the pillow. “Please. Enlighten me. I’m curious how a guy like me managed to marry someone like you.”

“Well,” you start, a smile tugging at your lips as you pull up a chair beside him. “For starters, we didn’t exactly get along at first.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Did I say something to offend you?”

“You…may have.” You grin, remembering the banter, the stubborn disagreements, the sparks that seemed to ignite every time you were in a room together. “You were cocky, stubborn, a little arrogant.”

He chuckles. “That sounds about right.”

“But somehow,” you continue, your voice softening, “you managed to break down all my walls. You made me feel like I was the only person who mattered, even if you acted like you were just being yourself.”

His gaze lingers on you, and there’s a warmth there, something cautious but undeniably present. “I’m sorry I don’t remember that.”

“Don’t be.” You place a gentle hand over his, feeling the faint warmth of his skin against yours. It’s a familiar gesture, one you’ve done a thousand times before, but this time, it feels different—new, almost shy. “You’ll remember. And until you do, we’ll make new memories. Starting right now.”

He looks down at your hand on his, and you can see the faintest flush of color in his cheeks. For a man who’s usually so sure of himself, so confident in every move he makes, it’s endearing to see him look almost…nervous.

“So, tell me more about this…our life,” he says, his voice soft, like he’s trying to hold onto the pieces he has left.

“Well,” you say, smiling as you think of the little things that make up your life together. “We spend a lot of time in the lab together, actually. Even if you’re always tinkering, working on some new project, you always have time for me.”

“Do I? Sounds like a good husband.” There’s a touch of pride in his voice, and it makes your heart ache a little—because he doesn’t even know the half of it yet.

“A very good husband,” you murmur, meeting his gaze with all the love you feel for him. “The best.”

And there it is—that flicker in his eyes, like he’s starting to see it, to feel it. It’s as if, for just a moment, he knows you, feels that connection.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “For being here. For…all of this.”

You squeeze his hand gently, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. “You’re my husband, Tony. I’d do anything for you.”

And as you sit there, hands entwined, you realize that even if he has to fall in love with you all over again, you’ll be right here, waiting.

The drive back from the hospital is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Tony stares out the window, taking in the blur of city lights as you weave through the streets toward your shared home. Occasionally, you catch him glancing at you, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief, as if he’s still wrapping his head around the idea that you’re his wife, that he’s returning to a life he doesn’t remember but that he somehow…wants.

When you finally pull into the long driveway leading up to your home, his eyebrows shoot up. Stark Tower looms ahead, its sleek, modern design stark against the night sky. The iconic "STARK" sign gleams with familiar grandeur. He lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes, too—something like pride.

“So, this is…our place?” he asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. Well, your place, technically. But I’ve definitely made it my own.”

Tony chuckles, the sound low and warm, and you’re reminded of all the times he’s teased you about “taking over” his tower with touches of your personality: the cozy reading nook in his office, the garden on the roof you insisted on installing, even the art pieces scattered throughout the building. And despite his teasing, he’d always seemed proud of how much of yourself you’d poured into his space.

“Well,” he says, stepping out of the car, “if you’re half as great at interior design as you are at, uh, marrying billionaires, I think I’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“Oh, just you wait,” you say with a playful smirk as you lead him inside.

The entryway is a testament to the sleek, modern style Tony’s known for—polished floors, clean lines, an air of sophistication mixed with warmth. But there are little touches here and there that mark it as your home too: framed photos from the missions you’ve tackled together, a throw blanket draped over the couch, even a small shelf of books beside the entrance to the main living area.

Tony follows you, his gaze flitting over each detail with that trademark Stark intensity, taking it all in as if he’s studying a new project. When his eyes land on a photo of the two of you at a beach, he pauses. You remember that day so vividly: you were laughing, caught in a candid moment as he held you close, your hair whipped by the wind.

“Is that…us?” he asks, a softness in his voice that tugs at your heart.

“Yeah,” you say, stepping closer to him. “A couple of years ago. We were on a vacation you forced me to take.”

“I forced you?” he repeats, quirking an eyebrow. “Was I…was I that difficult?”

“Only a little,” you tease, nudging him gently. “You hated the idea of not working for a few days. But we made the best of it.”

His lips curve into a small smile as he stares at the photo a moment longer before turning his gaze back to you. “I look…happy. Really happy.”

“You were,” you say softly. “We both were.”

He swallows, his gaze lingering on you, and for a moment, you can almost feel the weight of all the memories he’s lost. But there’s a warmth in his eyes, a flicker of something that feels like a connection—even if it’s new to him.

You clear your throat and gesture toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest.”

You lead him down the hall, pointing out the various rooms, each one filled with a mix of his tech and your touches: the library with shelves overflowing with both your favorite books, the small lounge you use for watching movies together, and finally, your bedroom.

When you open the door, he stands in the doorway, taking it in. The room is a blend of Tony’s sophisticated taste and your own comfortable style, the soft lighting casting a warm glow over the neatly made bed, the nightstand stacked with a few of Tony’s reading materials, and the little tray of lotions and skincare items you keep on your side.

“This…feels nice,” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over the room. He takes a step inside, running a hand over the bedspread, almost as if testing its texture. “I don’t know why, but I feel…calm here.”

You smile, moving to stand beside him. “It’s our space. Your favorite spot after a long day, whether you’d admit it or not. You always said it’s the one place that lets you truly relax.”

He chuckles, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, well, if you say so. I…believe you.”

For a moment, there’s silence, and you can feel the weight of the day settling over both of you. He’s exhausted, and so are you.

“Do you…want to rest?” you ask, realizing he might be overwhelmed with all of this new information.

“Actually, I think I’d like to keep looking around,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I just…don’t want to miss anything. It feels like I’ve lost a huge chunk of my life, and I want to piece it together, however I can.”

You nod, understanding. You feel a pang of sadness but try to hide it. “Well, I’ll be here. We can take it slow. One room at a time.”

Together, you move back down the hallway, stopping in the kitchen next. Tony’s gaze catches on the coffee maker, and he raises his eyebrows with a look of genuine excitement. “Please tell me I still drink coffee.”

You laugh, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Oh, you drink enough coffee to fuel a small army. In fact…” You open a cabinet, revealing an impressive array of coffee beans, grounds, and Tony’s prized espresso machine. “You’re particular about it. You like to experiment.”

He nods, visibly impressed. “I see I have good taste. I’d like to think I’m a genius when it comes to coffee.”

“Among other things,” you reply, grinning as you start to brew a fresh pot, the familiar hum of the machine filling the room.

As the coffee brews, Tony leans against the counter, watching you with that spark of interest you remember so well. But now, it feels new, raw, as if he’s falling for you all over again and doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“So,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes, “you said we didn’t get along at first. How did I change your mind?”

You chuckle, handing him a mug and savoring the warmth as you lean back against the counter beside him. “It wasn’t any one thing. You…surprised me. I kept expecting you to be this arrogant genius with no time for anyone, but then you started showing up at my door with random inventions, making coffee runs at three a.m. with me, and bringing me little gifts from your travels.” You smile, remembering each moment as if it’s engraved in your memory. “You just…wore me down, I guess.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, mulling over your words, and you see the warmth in his expression, a flicker of understanding, even if it’s only a shadow of his former self.

“Well, then,” he says, his tone soft, “I’m glad I wore you down.”

His words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, the kitchen feels smaller, more intimate, filled with a sense of closeness that’s been there since the moment you met but now feels refreshingly new.

Tony shifts his weight, looking suddenly unsure. “So…do I get to sleep in our bed tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling a little as you nod. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you walk back to the bedroom together, side by side, you feel a quiet sense of peace settle over you. Tony might not remember you—at least not yet—but he’s here, and he’s yours, and somehow, you’ll find a way to rebuild together.

You slip into bed, settling under the covers, and Tony follows suit, lying beside you with a soft sigh. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches over, his hand brushing against yours beneath the covers. You entwine your fingers with his, and even though he doesn’t remember the countless nights you’ve fallen asleep like this, it feels natural.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Tony,” you murmur back, your heart swelling with hope.

As the city lights outside cast a gentle glow across the room, you lie there, hand in hand, feeling the warmth of him beside you. And for the first time since the accident, you feel a flicker of reassurance.

The days start to blur together in a rhythm that feels both familiar and new. Tony’s memory isn’t coming back all at once, but he’s recovering it in little flashes, bits and pieces of who he used to be, of who you are to each other. And even though some of these memories are fleeting, almost insignificant, they build something solid between you—something that’s real and growing stronger with every passing moment.

It begins with breakfast one morning.

You’re standing at the stove, cooking eggs and listening to Tony talk about his latest gadget idea. He’s been getting back into work, tinkering here and there in the lab, and he always comes out in the morning with some grand plan or concept. It’s one of the things you’ve missed most—his enthusiasm, his endless curiosity, the way he lights up when he talks about creating something new. You smile, flipping the eggs onto plates and setting them on the counter.

“You know, I don’t think I ever realized how much you put up with me,” he says, leaning against the counter with that lopsided grin that makes your heart skip a beat. “All my late nights, random ideas, and, uh, probably a few accidental explosions.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you hand him his plate. “Oh, trust me, I’ve put up with plenty. But you make it worth it.”

He takes a bite, nodding as though savoring the taste. “You know…this feels familiar,” he says after a moment, frowning slightly. “Mornings like this. I used to sit here and watch you cook, didn’t I?”

“Every morning you didn’t have your face buried in a new project,” you reply softly, watching him carefully.

He pauses, that spark of recognition in his eyes growing, as if he’s trying to hold onto the memory, to make it solid. And then he’s looking at you, really looking at you, with a tenderness that feels almost shy. It’s a vulnerability you rarely see from Tony, and it makes your heart ache in the best way.

“I think I remember something else,” he murmurs, stepping around the counter to stand in front of you. “I remember sitting here and…thinking about how lucky I was.”

Your breath catches as he reaches out, his fingers grazing your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw. His touch is tentative, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Tony…” you whisper, feeling your pulse quicken.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that’s both familiar and electrifying, like he’s rediscovering you for the first time. His hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer as his mouth moves against yours, slow and intense, like he’s savoring every second. When he pulls back, his eyes are darker, filled with something that looks like a mix of wonder and awe.

“I don’t remember everything,” he says softly, his voice rough, “but I don’t think I need to. This feels right.”

You smile, threading your fingers through his hair. “It is right,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss him again.

The memory flashes continue over the next few days, each one bringing him closer to the person he used to be. They’re small, fleeting things—a song that triggers a faint memory of a dance in the living room, the scent of his cologne reminding him of the night you first told him you loved him. Each one brings with it a sense of déjà vu, a feeling that tugs at his heart and pulls him closer to you.

One evening, you’re both sitting on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you watch a movie together. It’s an old favorite, something you’ve watched countless times, and Tony seems to relax into the familiarity of it. His hand absentmindedly traces patterns on your thigh, and you can feel his warmth, his closeness, and it makes you feel grounded, steady.

Suddenly, he chuckles, looking down at your legs. “I remember this. You used to do this all the time. You’d kick off your shoes and practically sprawl across the couch.”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “And you used to pretend to be annoyed, even though you secretly loved it.”

He raises an eyebrow, that playful smirk you know so well tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’m sure I did.”

You shift, leaning closer to him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, his eyes filled with both affection and curiosity, that makes you feel bold, like you’re rediscovering each other in a way that’s fresh and exhilarating.

“Can I tell you something?” you murmur, your voice soft.

“Anything,” he says, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“When we first met, I thought you were this…impossible genius with no time for anyone,” you confess, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “But then you’d look at me like this, with this softness, like I was the only person in the world.”

He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Maybe you are.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, capturing you in a kiss that’s anything but shy. It’s slow and deep, his hands sliding up your back as he pulls you into him, your bodies pressed together, fitting perfectly. His kisses are gentle yet intense, each one leaving you breathless, as if he’s trying to make up for all the lost time, all the memories he doesn’t yet have but that you both feel so deeply.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing heavily, hearts racing. He smiles, that teasing glint in his eyes as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why do I feel like I’ve kissed you a million times?” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “Like I can’t get enough?”

“Maybe because you have,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “And I’ll never get enough of you, either.”

He chuckles, a sound that’s warm and filled with affection as he kisses you again, softer this time, more lingering, like he’s savoring every second. His lips move slowly over yours, his hands gentle as they cradle your face, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you, the way you fit together.

Over the next few days, the memories come more frequently, little fragments of your life that make him pause, that bring a flicker of recognition to his eyes. Sometimes it’s just a look he gives you, a soft smile that feels so familiar it makes your heart ache. Other times, it’s a touch—a hand on your back, a gentle brush of his fingers against yours—that reminds you of all the little ways he’s shown his love over the years.

And every time he remembers something, he falls in love with you a little more.

One night, as you’re both lying in bed, you reach over to turn off the light, but Tony stops you, his hand catching yours. He turns to you, his gaze soft but intense, filled with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away.

“I might not remember everything yet,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing your cheek, “but I know that I love you. I don’t need memories to know that.”

You feel a lump in your throat, a warmth spreading through you that’s both comforting and thrilling. “I love you, too, Tony,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his hand. “No matter what. I always have, and I always will.”

His smile is tender, filled with a gratitude that makes you realize just how lucky you both are, how strong this connection is between you. He leans in, kissing you with a softness that melts away all the uncertainty, all the fear that’s lingered since the accident.

And as you lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realize that this isn’t just a return to the life you had before. It’s something new, something deeper and more meaningful, a love that’s growing stronger every day. It’s a love that doesn’t need memories to survive because it’s written into every touch, every glance, every kiss you share.

The morning Tony’s memories come flooding back, it feels both surreal and inevitable. He wakes up beside you, his gaze fixed on the ceiling for a long moment before he turns to look at you, his expression a mixture of wonder, relief, and something deeper—something vulnerable. When he speaks, his voice is low, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell.

“I remember everything,” he murmurs, his hand finding yours beneath the covers. His thumb traces gentle patterns on your knuckles, as though he’s grounding himself in the reality of the present. “Every detail, every moment. I remember…you.”

You blink away the tears that threaten to spill over, smiling as you reach up to cup his face. “You’re really back,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I missed you.”

He gives a soft laugh, his hand covering yours as he presses his forehead to yours. “You never really lost me, you know? And I… I missed you, too. Even when I didn’t remember all of it, I knew. I knew you were everything to me. I'd always fall for you.”

You fall into his arms, both of you holding each other tightly, like you’re afraid to let go. And in that embrace, you feel the weight of all those lost days lift, leaving only a warmth that radiates between you. He’s here, fully, and the two of you are whole again.

Later, you’re curled up on the couch together, a blanket draped over both of you, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders as you cuddle into his side. You’ve both been talking, recounting memories, laughing at the more amusing fragments that came back to him in flashes. And then, an idea strikes you.

“Tony,” you say, glancing up at him with a mischievous grin, “there’s something you need to see.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, really? And what might that be?”

You grab your phone from the coffee table, pulling up a series of videos you took during his days without memories. Each one holds moments that, at the time, you’d been scared would be all you had left—little fragments of his affection, of the new ways he showed his love for you while he was rediscovering himself.

“Brace yourself,” you say, hitting play on the first video.

In it, Tony is sitting across from you at the kitchen table, his eyes sleepy and his hair a mess. He’s holding a mug of coffee, and he looks up at you with the softest, most adoring expression, blinking slowly like he can barely believe you’re real. “You’re so pretty,” he says, his voice a murmur, his gaze fixed on you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the entire world. “How did I get so lucky?”

The Tony beside you lets out a surprised laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever looked that…well, cuddly before.”

“Oh, that’s just the beginning,” you say, grinning as you play the next video.

This one shows him lying on the couch, his head in your lap as you’re reading a book. He’s practically burrowed into you, his arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried against your stomach. Every now and then, he looks up at you with these wide, affectionate eyes, and even without memories, he’s the picture of absolute adoration.

“Is that…me?” Tony asks, a touch of disbelief in his voice as he watches himself look up at you like that. “I’m like a…like a giant puppy.”

“Oh, you were,” you laugh, rubbing his arm affectionately. “I have so many videos like this. You’d barely let me out of your sight. I think losing your memories made you even clingier.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he pulls you closer. “Well, can you blame me? I mean, look at you. Not remembering you was bad enough—I guess I was just making sure I didn’t forget you again.”

The next video is of him in bed, lying half-asleep with his arm stretched out, reaching for you. His voice, groggy and low, calls your name softly, and you hear yourself laugh from behind the camera as you step into view. When you do, he pulls you into the bed, wrapping his arms around you like he never wants to let go. He sighs in contentment, pressing his lips to your forehead and murmuring something unintelligible, and even watching it now, you feel that familiar warmth spread through your chest.

Tony, watching beside you, is silent for a long moment, his gaze softened as he watches himself cling to you like that. When the video ends, he turns to you, a tenderness in his expression that takes your breath away.

“I can’t believe I didn’t remember you,” he whispers, his fingers brushing your cheek. “But even when I couldn’t…I needed you.”

You place a hand over his, smiling softly. “I think a part of you did remember, in a way. You were still you—maybe a little cuddlier than usual,” you tease, “but you were still you.”

His lips curve into a playful grin. “So, I was clingy, huh? Was I any good at it?”

“Oh, you were very good at it,” you say, laughter bubbling up. “I mean, I kind of got used to waking up with you practically draped over me. I’m almost going to miss it.”

His grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. “Well, if you liked clingy Tony, I think I can accommodate,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he tightens his hold on you.

You giggle, curling your arms around his neck as he presses a series of soft, lingering kisses along your jaw. “Mmm, maybe I did like clingy Tony,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair.

He chuckles, his lips trailing down to your neck, his hands running up and down your sides as he nuzzles into you, his warmth enveloping you. “Well then, Mrs. Stark, it looks like you’re in luck.”

His mouth finds yours, and he kisses you deeply, his hands gentle but insistent as he pulls you closer. The kiss is soft and tender, but there’s an intensity to it, a passion that feels even stronger now that he has all his memories back. It’s like he’s making up for lost time, savoring every second, every touch, every shared breath.

When he pulls back, he leans his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t think I could ever let you go again,” he says, his hands sliding to your waist as he holds you close. “Every second without you felt…wrong, somehow. Now that I know everything, it’s like my whole world is back.”

You smile, brushing your fingers along his jaw as you gaze into his eyes. “Then don’t let go,” you whisper, your heart racing as he closes the small distance between you again, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss that’s both familiar and exhilarating.

soft Tony is just a baby <3 if you liked the story leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

[love-belle]

paper rings !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she would say yes, even with paper rings.

or

for when you're certain that they're your person. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au irl // lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - one of the cutest things i have ever written, loved this request!! i hope you like it, i love you, thank you for reading <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

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≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

"hey, baby."

"hey," lewis mumbled, not sparing y/n a single glance as he continued to watch a random episode of modern family.

"how was your night?" y/n continued to make conversation with him, removing her high heels and discarding her handbag. she walked towards where he was at and kissed the top of his head before petting roscoe a few times. "sorry, there was traffic and then i had to drop aaliyah at her boyfriend's place cause she got too drunk to drive."

"'s okay," was all lewis said, making y/n frown as she turned back to look at him. he was still watching the tv, his head thrown back against the back of the couch with roscoe next to him.

"uh — i'll be right back, i need to change," y/n spoke, her confusion only growing as her fiancé gave no reply, not even a slight hum as an indication that he had heard her.

moving towards their bedroom, y/n could feel herself grow more confused, thinking of all of the possible reasons as to why lewis would be so short and distant with her.

maybe he was just having a bad day? maybe he was just tired? was he sick? did i do something? another rumour of me hooking up with my best friend? he found out i broke his favourite vase?

her mind swarming with plausible to way-too-ridiculous reasons, she didn't even notice her changing her own clothes until she was left staring at the heap that was her dress by her feet. picking it up and throwing it on the bed, she made her way towards the living room, hoping that maybe she just imagined it. that it was just ber overthinking mind that over analysed a situation.

"hey," y/n spoke again, walking around to the couch to the front of it. sensing that she wanted to sit here, roscoe stood up and moved a bit, just enough so that y/n could scoot in and then laid back, this time on her. "hey," lewis replied, his eyes flickering to her before he focused again on the show in front of him.

okay so, maybe she didn't imagine it.

"what are we watching?" y/n questioned, scratching behind roscoe's ears, desperate to make a conversation with him, seeing him for the first time since this afternoon.

"modern family," lewis sighed exasperated and as much as y/n hated to admit it, it made her feel like he didn't want her there at the moment. sure, he may have had his reasons but it didn't feel exactly good, noticing that her fiancé didn't wanna be around her at the moment.

as long as she's been with lewis, almost seven years, they've always communicated with each other. from the smallest of things like when y/n told lewis that she hated his choice of carpet for their living room to the biggest and the most important stuff like when lewis talked to y/n about wanting to wait until after they were married to have kids.

and the best thing about this was the other always understood. lewis understood that yeah, bright pink did clash with the warm and pastel tones of their home and y/n did understand that waiting until they were fully settled down was the best option.

and now, watching him not talk to her when there was obviously something bothering him was a bit confusing but still, she knew it was best to give him some space.

"uh — i'll be in the bedroom," y/n spoke, her voice just barely above a whisper and she knew he heard her because of the way his face changed and the way he turned to look at her with the slightest bit of confusion showing in his eyes. "it's been a long night and i just really want to sleep."

"okay," lewis whispered back and gave her a small smile, the most reaction she'd been able to get out of him since she came home.

"good night," y/n stood up, kissing roscoe's on the head before she turned toward lewis, who was watching his with an unreasonable look on his face. "good night, baby, i love you."

she barely heard an 'i love you' back before she was walking away from the couch and towards their bedroom. closing the door behind her, she picked up her dress from the bed and placed it on the chair by the dressing table, making a mental note to take it to the dry cleaners. after looking at herself one more time in the mirror and removing whatever was left of her makeup, she was in bed, covers drawn up to her chest.

y/n didn't know how long she laid there for, moving in and out of sleep. her mind was still stuck on lewis like a broken record, wondering what had happened while she was out. in the midst of her analysis, she didn't hear the footsteps approach the door until the person was right in front of it and the handle twisted and y/n quickly closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep just so he wouldn't question her about what she was doing.

the door opened and closed and the soft patter of footsteps could be heard.

there was silence for a full minute before lewis got in next to her, the sheet rustling. for the first five minutes, he stayed on his own side and y/n had to resist the urge to pull him closer to her, finding it hard to sleep when he was not holding her. then, he turned towards her and y/n had a feeling he was starting at her, finding it harder and harder to not let her expression change. she could feel movement next to her and ruled it out as lewis getting comfortable until a hand moved to lay across her abdomen and pulled her closer.

she heard lewis inhale deeply, his head moving to lay in the crook of her neck. she could feel his warm breath on the exposed part of her collarbone, feeling the goosebumps rise on her skin. she shifted against him, her hand moving to hold him closer.

they stayed like that for what felt like mere minutes, their breathing the only sound in the room along with the ticking of the clock with each passing second. y/n figured lewis fell asleep, with how even his breathing was and she was about to move to get a bit more comfortable when he spoke.

"i'm sorry," his voice was quiet in the room, his thumb tracing circles on her stomach where her tank top had risen up slightly. "for ignoring you, kind of and being distant. i know you don't like it."

"it's okay, lew. i just want you to be able to talk to me, whenever you feel like," y/n assured him, kissing the top of his head.

"it's a stupid thing, really," lewis chuckled half heartedly, his body vibrating against hers. "don't even worry about it."

"i always worry about it when it comes to you, you know that," y/n reminded him, making him look at her. "and it's not stupid if it bothers you. what is it, love?"

"it's just that — " lewis stopped before he could continue, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "you weren't wearing your engagement ring, when you were out with your friends and then that post you posted on your instagram, people took notice of that and they were all like 'why isn't she wearing her ring' and 'did they break up' and there were some hate comments too. i reported them, by the way. and then, i don't know, i just kinda got into too much overthinking and just made myself upset over nothing and i ignored you and you went back when it was so clear you just wanted to talk to me and i feel — "

he was interrupted by a kiss.

y/n kissed in the middle of his rambling, pulling him closer with the front of his t-shirt while one of her hands rested on his cheek. a surprised noise left lewis' mouth before he melted into the kiss, tilting his head so that he could deepen the kiss.

y/n pulled away, making lewis chase her lips once again and she gave him another soft kiss before pulling back fully and looking at him with a soft smile.

"do you not like the ring?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, making y/n furrow her eyebrows.

"what?"

"do you not like the ring?" lewis repeated himself, sitting up slightly. "because if so, i can get you another one and this time you can come with me. i chose that one all by myself and i wasn't even really sure about it being 'you' because your style literally changes every week and i can totally understand if you don't like it like — that's totally valid and i'm sure — "

"oh, my god," y/n sat up straight, folding legs under her as she looked at her fiancé. "you think i don't like the ring?"

"... yeah."

"lewis," y/n dragged out the 's', standing up from the bed and rapidly moving towards her dresser, opening a small box and pulling out her ring, her engagement ring. "this the most beautiful ring i have ever seen in my life."

and it was, really. it had intricate patterns throughout the band, with a giant diamond sitting in the middle with several diamonds surrounding it. and what made it even more special was the fact that lewis had his initials, along with hers engraved on the inside of the ring. that's what made y/n fall in love with it.

"really?" lewis asked hopefully from the bed, watching her make her towards his side of the bed. she sat down next to him and took his hand in hers, the ring still clutched in her free hand.

"but that ring is not the reason i said yes, you know that, right? like, you could ask me to marry you with a ring made out of tissue paper and foil and i would still end up saying yes," y/n whispered, leaning in closer and placing a soft kiss on his lips before she gave him the ring and put out her hand for him to slide it on. "as long as it's you asking me that damn question."

lewis chuckled, sliding on the ring onto her ring finger and kissing it. he looked at her, the smile being so genuine that it shone in his eyes and y/n could see him being in love and she knew she was no different from him.

"marry me, will you?" lewis asked again, in the empty room with no one, no shining lights, no crowd standing there applauding, no extravagant arrangement of flowers, just them, a total contrast to when he had first asked the question. even though the answer was already yes, he couldn't help but ask. just so he could hear it one more time.

"only because you asked so nicely," y/n teased him, making lewis chuckle before he leaned in, closing the gap between them.

no shining lights, no crowd standing there applauding, no extravagant arrangement of flowers, just them.

yet, somehow, this managed to be even more special than that one.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

y/n wasn't there when lewis woke up, just a post it note, along with a small box on her side of the bed saying that she was called to her office a bit early and wouldn't be home until late afternoon.

lewis smiled as he looked at the numerous hearts drawn on the note. he kept the note aside, mentally noting that he would have to add it to his collection of notes he had received from y/n throughout the course of their relationship. he took the box and opened it, his face scrunched up in confusion before he smiled, a laugh leaving him as he took out the contents of the box.

it was a paper ring.

the most simple thing yet he knew he would choose this over a million something diamond ring. a small heart on the top with the ridges along the band, it was perfect.

there was another note attached to it, just one simple line and it had lewis smiling for the rest of the day

'i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings ♡'

yeah, he made the right choice marrying her.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, lilymhe and 862,926 others

yourusername i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings 💌

tagged lewishamilton

8,719 comments

username NO ONE'S DOING IT LIKE THEM

username brb crying.

username TAYLOR SWIFT REFERENCE IM DEAD

lilymhe gf are u cheating on me ://

-> yourusername NEVER baby he's just a side piece

-> lewishamilton ...

username i see how kind god has been to others 💔💔

username no bc they're so in love i could throw up

charles_leclerc is that why he's been blasting that damn song the whole day

-> lewishamilton it's a great song ❤️

-> yourusername yes it is ❤️

username THE PAPER RINGS THE LOVE LETTER THE SONG IM DECEASED

lewishamilton uh huh that's right darling ❤️

-> yourusername you're the one i want ❤️

lewishamilton loved the ring so much 💍 i love you

-> yourusername im so glad <3 i love you sm

[aliamor]

THE SPIDERMAN PJ THING REMINDED ME OF AN IDEA I HAD!!!! so basically, yk the matching batman and hello kitty pjamas you'll see on tiktok? ok, great, so case and reader are on streamdoing fan mail, and he opens a package from the reader that she ordered, and it's the matching pjamas. Plot twist. The batman pjamas are for reader, and the hello kitty ones are for Case. I can just imagine the moment of realization when he notices the size of the batman pj's.

(I really hope this makes sense <3 thx sm)

THIS MAKE SENSE DONT WORRY :w i got youu

🐈‍⬛ on stream case was doing a PO box opening of fanmail, which was perfect for you to add your own package into it without case knowing.

🐈‍⬛ you decided to order matching pjs for the both of you. Normally you would get the hello kitty ones and he would have the batman ones because he refuses to wear spiderman pjs..

🐈‍⬛about an hour into opening packages, yours landed into cases hand.

“Yo chat, this box sounds like cloths..” absolutely correct sir.

As he opens the package, the plastic covering the item, he knew it was clothing but not sure of the exact item.

🐈‍⬛ when it’s ripped apart, he grabs the hello kitty pair out first, the legs dropping to his lap and a bit past his knees.

“Is that hello kitty?? Hun you can wear these, you like hello kitty” he says so innocently, little does he know that pair is for him.

🐈‍⬛ but you take them and he continues on to the next pair, revealing batman himself. The legs on the pjs hit down to his legs but not as far as the hello kitty ones. (All depends on your height too)

🐈‍⬛ “chat, what size did yall give me for my pjs?!”

(Your size in pants/ pjs. I like mine baggy)

He reads that it is an XL, “chat! You know im a medium im on a cut”

🐈‍⬛ he looks over at you and asks what size is yours, which you tell him that it is his size.

“Dont play with me, lemme see”

🐈‍⬛ “these are for you case, the batman ones are for me” you giggle out. “Did they leave a note?” You say to him

“Hold up lemme look…”

🐈‍⬛yes you left a note saying ‘hi caseypoo, i knew youve always wanted to match with me. I know hello kitty is your favorite, love your girlfriend🤍’

All he does is look up at you with his mouth open, pure disbelief.

🐈‍⬛case doesn’t complain at all though, he finds it extremely funny and before any other packages get opened he requests to change into the pjs and show chat.

MWAHHH,

I love this idea sooo much, its very cute<3 yall be safe

HAHAHAHA I LOOVVE THIS GIF SMM HELP ME😭😭😭

[ashdreams2023]

Hello! Can u do one where Snape and student reader has a platonic bantering relationship? Like Snape favors them a lot and students and teachers clearly notices but Snape and Student likes to go back and forth with petty insults. Kinda like making the other students and professors confused if Snape actually favors them or not. But when someone insults the other they would passionately defend them. Something along the lines of "only I can insult Snape/Student" It can be like Snape is complaining abt Student to McGonagall then suddenly McGonagall agrees and adds her complaints making Severus defend student suddenly. Or when Student is complaining to her friends abt how awful Snape is but when her friends insult him she also defends him. HAHAHAHA i don't know if it makes sense so I understand if u can't make it lol.

Git

Platonic severus snape x reader

Severus didn’t like when students disrespected him, just because he’s young didn’t mean he wasn’t worthy out it.

That’s one of many reasons he’s so strict, students just learn to stay out of his way like that but then again there we’re always the ones who just didn’t get the hint.

And one of them was you.

Honestly you were bound to be trouble the second you opened your mouth in his classroom, left him gritting his teeth and furiously angry at the house you were from.

You were blunt, annoying and hotheaded.

"But Professor just one last chance! You need too you know this was not my best performance!"

"Sounds like a you problem."

It would be like that then after some more nagging he would give in because you we’re starting to give him a headache and he couldn’t give you detention for asking for help.

At one point he just gave up with your tactics all together and what made it worse was that you kept your promises, you did your work, participated in class, and regardless of the back talk and half assed comments at each other you were not, dare he say…insufferable but just more tolerable than most.

Although minerva likes to say you’re his favorite but he denies it every time, he doesn’t have favorites and he merely tolerates you.

"Severus due give this to young miss [——] when you go to the great hall"

"Do I look like an owl Minerva?" He said irritated.

The older professor gave him a look before he groaned and took the textbook and went on his way to the great hall where students were starting to gather in for lunch.

The great hall was buzzing with chatter, students were too busy to notice him enter and he liked it that way, he looked around then landed his eyes on you sitting on the gryffindor table to his pleasure, chatting with potter and granger.

He approached you slowly but stopped when he heard potter mentioning him.

"I swear I can’t do it anymore! If I get another troll on my next assignment I’m gonna try convincing Dumbledore that it’s not necessary in the curriculum"

"Don’t be dramatic, potions just need some focusing and if you tried not picking fight with snape things would be easier, I know he’s an ass but come on" you replied.

Hermione cleared her throat "it’s Professor Dumbledore Harry and professor snape to you!" She pointed at you but you just shrugged "moral of the story she’s right Harry you just need to focus, try to pay attention in class instead of neglecting your grades just to spite professor snape"

Harry crossed his arms "easy for her to say, she’s his favorite, it’s honestly starting to piss me off! He’s a git who only cares about his own house and I hope he does get that dark arts position at least then he would leave hogwarts one way or another!"

Harry regretted his words the second they left his mouth, the look you gave him was a mix of shock and angry.

"What is wrong with you?! I know he’s a git, he’s unfair and sometimes plain unreasonable when he feels like it but wishing death on him just because you dislike him!"

"[——] calm down Harry didn’t mean it like that!"

"That’s not-"

"That’s exactly what you meant Harry! He’s mean but he’s not a monster" you said all of that while not realizing snape was standing right there, watching and observing the whole thing.

It made his chest a tad tight, he hated the feeling but the look of absolute shame on Harry’s face made him satisfied.

Maybe he does have favorites.

"Snape? What are you doing with my textbook!" You said finally noticing him standing there with you transfigurations textbook. He scoffed and handed you the textbook.

"You brats would lose your head if it they weren’t attached to your body"

You frowned and took your textbook from him.

"I remember important stuff…like washing my hair" you smirked

Snape glared at you, screw what he just thought, you were still annoying.