#Mr Com//press

[void-draws]

As per usual: Nsfw/Kink dni

[diy-dynamite]

Television Relations

》 2nd part of Television Influence

He sees a familiar face. || Mr. Crawling x GN!Reader

Warnings: spoilers for one of the endings, the reader is an assassin, some mentions of murder

Took inspiration from the members of Homicipher Unofficial (which u should definitely join, btw) (idk if they're ok with shoutouts so I'll just edit it later if they are)

********

SINCE the first day you introduced him to television, you left it on for him every day. It wouldn't do him any harm since he didn't seem to have any eyes, but he could still see bullshit from a mile away.

On one of the days, you checked on him while you tied down your target before he woke up to extract the information your client needed, and all of a sudden, Mr. Crawling blurted out a loud "No!"

You raised your brows in confusion, only to see him smack his hand on the screen lightly. You squinted your eyes, taking a closer look at the screen, and barked out a laugh when you realised he was watching the scene in Titanic where Rose was on a piece of debris salvaged from the ship, while Jack was in the water.

You figured he shouted in frustration. Your laugh awoke your target, though, so you quickly hit him with the blunt of your crowbar on a special part of the head to make him fall asleep again.

That was a normal Sunday for you.

You went back home with another successful mission, jingling your keys and coming home to an expectant Mr. Crawling, happily greeting you once again.

What you didn't expect, however, was that he led you to the living room instead of the kitchen. Normally, he'd take you there to give you a washed, uncut fruit like an apple or grapes, peeking over the table with a smile to see if you liked it. That was his way of trying to feed you since you fed him.

No, that didn't happen. Instead, he took you to the TV and sat you down there.

"Look, look," he pointed at the TV, the language rolling off his ink black tongue. "Friend."

You glanced to the TV and flinched—why the hell were they showing Sadako? That rom-com show was supposed to be on at this time.

"Er, did you switch channels, Mr. Crawling?" You muttered. He didn't respond as you tried to switch off the TV, but it wouldn't work.

"What is?" He pointed at your remote. You pressed at the off button again, but it didn't work. "Uhh, controls thing," you said, pointing at the TV.

"Why?"

"I kill," you heard her say, and you flinched, looking up at the screen, its static getting worse by the second. I never knew they spoke the same language.

Wait.

She's leaving the screen.

You grabbed your crowbar, ready to swing, but Mr. Crawling grabbed your weapon. You yanked it away, the adrenaline causing your hesitance to go away, but you paused once Mr. Crawling leapt to stand—sit—between you and Sadako.

"Friend! Friend!" he chirped, his voice clearly expressing frantic wobbles.

You lowered your weapon.

"Friend," he said again. He turned around and placed his hands on Sadako's head, then shoved her back in.

"No kill," he said. "Me love they."

"You love they?"

"Love they many."

"They love you?"

.

.

.

"Understand. Farewell."

The static behind the TV disappeared, and Sadako only sat in what looked like an empty room or hallway.

You were about to turn off the TV until you saw a tall, white silhouette walk past the screen.

The humanoid man bent down, and your heart nearly exploded at the sight of your old acquaintance, Mr. Silvair.

"Hello!" You exclaimed. The white-haired man smiled. "Hello," he said. "See you again."

He turned his head to Mr. Crawling and waved. "See you again."

Mr. Crawling only stared with his non-existant eyes.

"I bring this one," he pointed at Sadako and pulled her away from the screen.

The TV went black.

"...you're... friends with Sadako."

Mr. Crawling turned around to look at you with a line on his face—the line being his mouth.

You titled your head. "Why upset?"

"They ask. You love me?" He gestured between you and him. He lowered his head, glancing to the side. "You don't say."

You paused before replying, "But I love you. Many."

"But you say to other," he pointed at the black screen. "'Hello'! Fast."

What?

Your confusion was probably obvious since Mr. Crawling continued to explain.

"You don't say when friend ask you love me." His voice only got whinier, and his lips curled downward as he spoke. "You say fast when other came."

"I say hello to friend—" Oh.

He's saying you didn't say anything when Sadako asked if you loved him, and he's also comparing your response with how you spoke to Mr. Silvair.

You paused, and although a knowing smile crept onto your lips, Mr. Crawling's only began to tremble.

That was what made you stop from teasing.

"No, no," you waved your hands at him, dropping the crowbar to kneel in front of him. You took his head in your hands and messed around with his hair, rubbing back and forth. "I love you many! Love you many!"

He perked up, his adorable grin slowly coming back on his face. "Many?"

You nodded. "Many!"

"Kiss," he said.

He even leaned forward, closer to your face.

"Many kiss," he said.

You sighed.

Maybe introducing him to the TV was a bad idea.

********

HOPE U LIKED THIS :3 kinda rushed bc I'm about to sleep again LMAO so mistakes MIGHT be spotted

JOIN HOMICIPHER UNOFFICIAL GUYSSS

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

S-I-M-P. ( HOTD x Reader )

author note: The top vote has won! Modern! Aemond it is! Plus, your Aemond simp's have been neglected by me for too long.. pairing: Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Wife! Reader prompt: I was listening to 'Submissive & Breedable' by Smosh as a joke when writing this. So take it as you will.. Lol word count: 1, 000+ words

When you and Aemond met five years ago, you literally knocked him off his feet. Not in some cute metaphoric sense, like you walked past him as if you were some super model on the runway, or your eyes met across the room like in some cheesy rom com. But you accidentally smacked him in the face with a door. A literal ‘knocking him off his feet’.

After a thousand apologies from you, some tissues for his bloody nose, and a crappy slice of pizza, were shared. It was perfect. You and him were perfect, a little chaotic at times. But, he liked to joke that it was love at first hit. Which was why he wasted no time to put a ring on your finger and officially make you ‘Mrs Targaryen’. He would have no other woman, but you.  

Watching as you help his Mother set up the kitchen table, Aemond couldn’t help the lovesick grin spread on his face, feeling like a puppy. You, his wife, were just perfect. Gods, he loved thinking and hearing about it, you, his wife. You, his wife. Letting out a pathetic giddy giggle under his breath, he knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. You were just everything to him and there was something so…so perfect about being able to officially be with you for forever that was so amazing and giddy. If he wouldn’t get mocked for it, he’d be floating after you like a cartoon. 

“She has you so whipped. Pathetic.” Aegon jokes, “Like a Simp.”

“At least I am not you, twenty-five, single and living with our parents. What’s it like being a leech and burden to our mother, Aegon?” Aemond insults, the words falling out without a moment's hesitation.

“Ouch.” Aegon scowls, all joy in teasing Aemond dying in an instant.

“Yes, well, I am going to see my wife now. You know, because I have someone to go home to.” Aemonds adds, purposefully rubbing it in his face now. 

“That’s cold.”

“Mayhaps, but it’s the truth.” Aemond nods, taking a sip of his beer.

Snorting as Aegon sulks deeply at the insults and gabs, he cracks a smile as he hears your laughter, his head turning without hesitation. Seeing you laugh at something Helaena said, he brightens up in an instant, perking up in his seat. Any thoughts of bickering with or insulting Aegon are long forgotten. Standing up from his seat, he doesn’t spare Aegon a glance, his attention on you. 

“It was all in good humor.” Aegon mumbles, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Mmm-hm, well, I am going to see my wife. Enjoy yourself.” Aemond mumbles, his eyes on you

“Simp.” Aegon mocks, “Does she also boss you around during sex?”

“No, but at least I am getting some, unlike you. Enjoy your left hand, Aegon. Cause it's all you will be spending your time with.” Aemond mocks back, not bothering to see the fallout.

Feeling a familiar arm wrap around your waist, you turn your head in an instant, perking up at the sight of your husband there. There was something so nice about being able to call him that. Aemond Targaryen, the grumpiest man you knew, was all yours. Smiling brightly, you stand up on your tippy-toes to reach his face, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek for a moment. Feeling him melt into your touch, you perk up at it, enjoying the small reaction you could get from it.

“Hello, love.” You mumble, the affectionate nickname falling from your lips naturally. 

“Hello there, what are you three up to?” He whispers, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.

“Just gossip and good fun.” You dismiss, a little too quickly. 

“What kind?” He asks, humming softly.

“We are just talking about stuff, Aemond. Don’t worry, it’s gossip and stuff.” You wave off, not wanting to know the truth.

He’d be mortified if he knew the truth of your conversations, practically melt into the kitchen floor if he knew his Mother had made a joke about his grumpy cat-like mannerisms and how he glowed when around you. Feeling his grip tighten around your waist for a moment, you tense up for a moment, fearing that he’d attempt to tickle the answer out of you. That was the last thing you wanted to happen whilst his family was visiting.

“Well, now I am suspicious.” He teases, a warm smile on his lips.

“It’s nothing, love.” You lie, attempting to brush it off.

“You promise, nothing bad?” He asks, his voice gentle. 

“Nothing bad. I promise. It’s all just teasing and lighthearted. You know it’d do nothing bad.” You reassure, a gentle smile on your lips. 

Watching his reaction carefully, he presses a gentle kiss onto your cheek and neck, his chin resting on your shoulder. He looked so beautiful in his light, all calm and droopy eyed. Chuckling at the way he lazily clings onto you, you welcome the gentle touch, savoring how comforting it felt. Mayhaps, his Mother was right in a way, he was different around you. A tiny pout on his lips instead of the usual scowl. His eyes droopy and soft, instead of hard and calculated. 

“You know that I love you, right?” He whispers, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Hmm?” 

“I said, you know that I love you, Y/n?” He mumbles, his voice gentle.

“I do.” You chuckle, enjoying hearing him say it. 

Shaking your head with a soft giggle, there was this soft dopey look on his face, it was hard to tell if he was fully sober or not. But, a tiny part of you didn’t care in the slightest. Just hearing him say that he loved you, it was the best thing to ever exist. Pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek once more, he lets out a low hum of approval, his eyes shutting for a moment. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He whispers over and over, “I love you. I love you.”

“You are drunk.” You chuckle, shaking your head. 

“A little. But, I get to call you my wife so it does not matter.” He shrugs, making it obvious he was slightly tipsy. 

“You are going to regret this in the morning, you do realize that, right?” You joke, the soft smile on your lips growing. 

“I can handle Aegon’s teasing. But, so long as you keep on smiling like that, it’s worth a hangover.” He whispers, nothing but love glimmering in his eyes. 

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

please do something with peter parker for vday. I miss you writing for him

I started writing this one last year for Valentine's Day...forgive me for the long wait

—

‘’No, you don’t understand, Ned. It needs to be perfect,’’ Peter explained, turning to his best friend for help.

‘’My longest and only relationship lasted about sixty hours, so I’m not really the one to come to for Valentine’s Day gift ideas.’’ 

‘’Uncle Ben always gave May flowers and chocolate.’’ And Peter always tried to steal chocolate from the box. ‘’But Y/N is Mr. Stark’s daughter, I can’t just buy her flowers and chocolate. She’ll think I’m poor.’’ 

‘’Didn’t you tell me this morning that you only have five dollars in your pockets?’’ Ned recalled, taking one of the homemade cookies his lola had put into his lunch bag and taking a bite. There was one for Peter too, but he was too busy worrying and panicking.

Peter groaned and hid his face in his crossed arms, frustrated and desperate. Being broke was a second problem to his Valentine’s Day plan. ‘’What am I gonna do? Valentine’s Day is in two days. I can’t not get her anything.’’ 

‘’If you go back to the roots of Valentine’s Day, it’s about celebrating love. You don’t have to spend money to show someone you love them.’’ Peter opened his mouth, but Ned spoke first. ‘’Even if she’s a Stark and bathes in money,’’ he added. ‘’She didn’t fall in love with you because of your economic status, she fell in love because of who you are.’’

On the big day, Peter set everything up in his living room. May was on a date with Happy, so he had the apartment to himself — until 10pm. He didn’t have a projector, so he made one with a shoebox and a magnifying glass, and hung a sheet to one of the walls to turn into a screen. He made cheese pastas and brought over the single chocolate cupcake he was able to afford. 

He was nervous, constantly checking his phone waiting for your ‘I’m here’ text. When he finally got it, Peter rushed to the door, smoothing his button up and fixing his hair before opening. If he was this nervous for Valentine’s Day, he didn’t want to imagine the nervous wreck he would be at his wedding. 

Not that he was planning on getting married anytime soon. 

‘’Happy Valentine’s Day,’’ you said with a smile on your glossy lips. 

Peter said the words back and let you in, gulping when his eyes fell on the small gift bag you were holding. You set it down on the table to take off your coat and boots, revealing a pink sweater and a sparkly necklace that cost probably more than anything in May's apartment.

You followed Peter to the living room, excitement bubbling in your stomach when seeing the frozen image of your favorite rom-com projected on the wall.  ‘’You made this?’’ 

Peter gave you a small nod. Projectors were easy to make. He learned how in a science book for kids when he was nine. May was so impressed when he showed her his ‘magic box’. 

‘’It’s not much, but—’’ he started to say, but you shut him up with a kiss. 

‘’Stop it,’’ you said, guessing his train of  thoughts. ‘’This is the best Valentine’s Day gift ever.’’ 

You never had another valentine before him — beside the little boys in middle school who sent you cards and heart lollipops  —, but Peter’s gift came from the heart. It was thoughtful and personal, therefore meant a lot to you. 

After eating the pastas, you handed Peter the gift bag. He was nervous just from holding it. 

He slowly pulled out the festive tissue papers and groaned when seeing a red and blue plush toy. ‘’Spiderman? Really?’’ Peter made an annoyed face. He didn't want to come off as ungrateful, but he was getting tired of the jokes with the Spiderman merch he had no control over. 

‘’Press his chest,’’ you instructed, ignoring his complaints.

Peter gave you a confused look, but listened. ‘’I love you, my Spidey,’’ the toy said.

You watched his expressions shift from confusion to surprise, Peter’s eyes widening when he recognized the sound of your voice. A genuine smile spread across his face, the small plush taking a whole other meaning. ‘’That's your voice,’’ he whispered, still holding the talking Spiderman plush. 

You nodded, the sparks in Peter’s eyes telling you that no expensive gift could have matched this one. He was truly touched. ‘’I know you don’t like when I get you expensive things, so I didn’t get you a new watch,’’ you explained, thinking back at the Cartier watch you hesitated on last week. He would have hated it. 

Turning toward you, Peter enveloped you in a hug to properly thank you. 

Your arms wrapped around him in return. ‘’Even when I’m not with you, you’ll always have something to remind you that I love you.’’ 

—

Marvel taglist: @xenasolos @chrizzierbsstuff @ayamenimthiriel @alina02 @turtleshavesoulmates @staygoldsquatchling02 @daemonslittlebitch  @wetwilliam02 @haileyismoo @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @mxxny-lupin  @sweeterheartxamerica @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @arunaposeidondottie @liidiaaag @katsukis1wife  @amithesimpoffandoms @acornacreacure @chaotic-fangirl-blog  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @youdontneedtoknowthisinformation  @aabananaa @starrrslove  @angeliod @nmedina8611 @1stevelacyfan  @yourfavdummy @laylasbunbunny  @slytherhoes @pedrosprincess  @luvvtxinityy @Eddiefrickenmunson @wandaswigglywoos @mikaelsonsstuff  @tcddszn  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous  @popeheywardssecretgf @kattybug @loverofdrewstarkey  @sl4sh3rfuck3r  @luci1fer @dingus0401  @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @t-candy  @adaydreamaway08  @johannelis2302nely  @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @mymultiveres @hopeurokays @not-liah @beth-gallagher22  @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336 @arinexeisnotworking  @rubyliquor @Danniackerman  @angelxxrose @angelxxrose  @upwritingallnight  @cruzgrecia @evelestrange  @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe  @hoeforsirius  @secretsthathauntus  @sarcasm-and-stiles

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[wileys-russo]

like a dumb rom com (2) II kyra cooney-cross x catley!reader

final piece of writing from me in 2023 besties! have a safe and happy new years eve x like a dumb rom com (2) II kyra cooney-cross x catley!reader

"well good morning little mrs cooney-cross." you bumped into teyah who was leaving as you arrived, passing one another in the hall as you gave her a playful shove.

"shut up!" you rolled your eyes, chatting with her for a few minutes before parting ways as she headed down to the carpark and you off toward the apartment she shared with kyra.

"waiting for me are we, bit eager?" you teased seeing your girlfriend already leaning in the open doorframe as a grin broke out on her face and she pushed her phone back in her pocket.

"nah i'm actually waiting for my thursday girlfriend. you're friday through monday, remember?" kyra smirked as you punched her shoulder and she pulled you inside, lips on yours as the door was kicked closed behind her.

"kyra lillee!" you shouted forty five minutes later, the brunette yelling back from the kitchen as she filled up your water bottles for training. "come here!" you shouted again with a huff as she appeared in the doorway of the bathroom behind you with a raised eyebrow.

"look what you did!" you moved your hair out of the way and pointed accusingly to your neck, frown deepening at the amused smile which curled onto your girlfriends lips as her eyes roamed over the hickies littering the right side of your neck.

"oops?" the younger girl smiled innocently as you mumbled under your breath. "do you have concealer?" you questioned as she shook her head and bit her bottom lip. "not in your shade babe."

"kyra!" you groaned, hands gripping the sink as your head fell forward to press against the mirror. "in my defence you didn't exactly stop me." the midfielder pressed herself into your back as you shrugged her off. "not helping!"

"we could swing past yours sometime between coffee, breakfast and training? you have concealer right?" kyra stepped past and pulled herself to sit up on the sink. "well yeah but steph will be there, and there's no chance she doesn't notice these. she notices when i've got my shinpads on the wrong feet." you sighed, letting out another groan.

"mm i could distract her? let you dart inside, just say you forgot your boots or something." your girlfriend suggested, poking you with her foot as you swatted it away.

"i'm not you ky i don't forget things." you had to let out a smile as she kicked you again. "i'm sorry baby, really. forgive me?" she jumped down and grabbed your hips, pulling your body into hers with a pout.

"only because i can't stay mad at that stupidly cute face of yours."

~

"so we go in, you distract her, i go to my room and cover them and we leave asap." you recounted as you pulled up outside the house, parking on the curb as to not alert her to your presence right away.

"kyra!" you smacked her when she didn't respond, pulling her head out of the clouds. "right! yes sorry, good plan babe." your girlfriend zoned back in, the two of you getting out of the car and heading up the driveway.

the first hurdle came when you were too slow grabbing your keys out, hearing someone start to unlock the door from the other side as kyra quickly yanked your hood over your head and you hurried to fix your hair.

"hi?" you gave a small sigh of relief seeing it was dean who opened the door, pushing past him and making a beeline for your room. "hey what-" you heard steph as you zoomed past her, ducking under her arm and into your room, kicking the door closed.

"i thought you left already?" you heard your sister call out, kyra making quick work to engage her in conversation as you hunted around for your concealer.

"of course when i need it i can't fucking find it." you grumbled to yourself as you fussed about in your makeup bag, finally pulling it out from the bottom. "fucking kyra." you mumbled to yourself again as you tugged your hood off.

"little leech." you huffed, hearing her laughter ring out from the living room followed by stephs annoyed groans about something she'd likely said to wind your sister up, a skill that never seemed to be out of stock for your girlfriend.

making quick time to cover them up as best as you could you nodded at the job, grabbing one of your textbooks off your desk and opening the door. "ky lets go!" you called out, the brunette detaching herself from steph.

"you're such a pest! no wonder the two of you are thick as thieves, both just as irritating as one another." steph groaned shoving the girls head to the side who grinned. "why the rush back?" your sister questioned, grabbed your arm as you tried to duck past her again.

"forgot this. need to study today!" you smiled holding up your textbook and grabbing kyra. "didn't you already have your sociology exam?" steph questioned with a frown, crossing her arms as you struggled to think of a response.

"some chapters are relevant in her next exam, crossover stuff yanno!" kyra chirped slinging an arm over your shoulder and turning the two of you toward the door.

"well well look whose rubbing off on her little best mate, you gonna hit the books too ky?" steph teased, leaning in the doorway with a smirk as the two of you headed down the driveway.

"i may just surprise you yet stephanie!" kyra yelled over her shoulder with a grin, though your sister wasn't yet to know just how surprising kyra really could be.

~

"come with me please." you whined as caitlin grabbed your bicep, steering you away from the change rooms as everyone else headed for the cafeteria. "cait i'm starving!" you groaned as she tugged you into one of the recovery rooms.

"so you've told steph about you and kyra then?" the older girl questioned with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms as you gave her a strange look. "no. why do i look like i've been yelled at today?" you grinned but it quickly faded at her lack of joining in.

"well you might want to consider it because she is definitely going to notice those and have questions."

"shit!" you cursed as caitlin pointed to your neck and you grabbed out your phone camera which confirmed your worries. you'd admittedly forgotten all about the little marks from this morning and with a media session upcoming a lot of the girls had showered in between training and lunch, yourself included.

"its not funny!" you groaned as caitlin finally broke her stern facade and doubled over with a laugh. "foordy help!" you whined, wincing a little as you poked the angry marks and cursing your girlfriend under your breath.

"just put a hoodie on and sit far away from steph. then maybe say your prayers?" the older girl laughed, ruffling your hair and leaving the room as you trudged after her, darting into the change rooms again to grab a hoodie.

you let out a yell as someone grabbed you and shouted boo, the all too familiar laughter which followed having you roll your eyes and shove her away. "you're such a child." you shook your head grabbing your hoodie.

"weren't saying that this morning were we babe?" kyra grinned, glancing around before her hands settled on your cheeks and she pulled you in for a kiss, unable to stop the smile which formed as you did.

"oh well hello!" you jumped apart from each other with bright red faces, heads whipping around to meet the amused gazes of vic and alessia. "will you two be coming for lunch or just eating each others faces?" vic smirked as alessia chuckled beside her.

"don't tell steph." you warned the two older girls who waved it off, stating they'd 'known for ages' and pulling the two of you away with them, all four of you falling into conversation.

following caitlins advice you dragged your friends to sit with you as far away from your sister as you could who gratefully was too busy goofing off with jen and beth to notice you..

though that peace of course didn't last.

"stop!" you whispered, ghost of a smile on your face as kyras hand wandered up your leg, teasingly pinching and poking at your skin as instead the two of you resorted to playing footsies.

"oi!" katie scowled turning around as kyra kicked the back of her chair, pointing to you as katie smacked your leg and you glared at your girlfriend who quickly kissed your cheek and gave you a grin, your elbow nudging into her side as jonas continued to talk.

"do you wanna hang out this arvo?" kyra murmured, grabbing your hand in hers and hiding it in her lap as you smiled. "i have to study, one more exam remember?" you whispered back as she pouted and you shook your head, turning back to the screen with a smile, the two of you still tapping and kicking one another as time went by.

it was at the end of the media session where things started to go a little pear shaped, the lights turning on and kyra quickly dropping your hand, but you failed to see your sisters narrowed eyes a few rows back.

dismissed for the day everyone wasted no time collecting their stuff and heading off, most in small groups or pairs as carpooling was a popular option among the team.

"steph!" you yelped as your sister grabbed you, pulling you back into the room by your hood as everyone else headed out. "what the hell is that on your neck?" you paled at her firm glare, warning you out of anything that wasn't the truth.

"nothing! i burnt myself with the straightener." you rolled your eyes and tried to leave but she held a firm grip on you which you couldn't break. "yeah bullshit. i wasn't born yesterday those are hickies, who gave them to you?" steph asked with a glare as you struggled to pull away.

"none of your business, get off!" you huffed, wrenching yourself free and storming off. "have you got a secret girlfriend or something?" your sister scoffed, grabbing the back of your hoodie as you pushed her away.

"just leave it steph! its nothing." you rolled your eyes, her questions following you into the change rooms as you ignored her. "oi! mum and dad made me promise to look after you, you're too young to be seeing someone." steph cornered you by your cubby as you rolled your eyes and a few of the girls looked over curiously.

"i'm twenty one fucking years old steph i'm not a baby and if i want to get a hickey off someone? i'll get a hickey." you grabbed your bag and shoved past her, ignoring the ooh's from beth who fell silent at a firm look from steph.

thankfully she didn't follow after you and with kyra grabbing a lift home with teyah you wasted no time driving off and heading home, determined to get there and lock yourself away before your sister returned home to no doubt continue the argument.

sure enough you weren't even ten minutes into studying, hauled up in your room with snacks and water that you heard her footsteps thump down the hall. you didn't even have dean as a buffer given he was at his own training this afternoon.

with a roll of your eyes you slipped your headphones on, purposefully pretending you didn't notice when your door swung open and calvin bounded in as you gave him a scratch and gently pushed him off your bed.

"what?" you huffed as your sister yanked your headphones off, holding them out of your reach as you tried to take them back. "who gave them to you?" steph asked, copping a filthy glare as she stretched taller and continued to hold your headphones away.

"none of your business and the more you ask me the more pissed off you're gonna get me stephanie." you warned seriously, snatching your headphones back as she lowered them slightly. "i need to study." you spoke bluntly, pulling them back on and sitting back down at your desk with your back turned.

steph watched on warily with words in the back of her throat before she decided it wasn't worth it, and when you glanced over your shoulder a few moments later the door was closed and she was nowhere to be seen.

with your sister not reappearing for a few hours you used the time to zone in on your studies, your phone sitting on do not disturb on your bed you missed the messages from both your girlfriend and your teammates checking in.

eventually you looked up from your textbook with tired eyes and realised it had gone dark outside. dropping your highlighter and closing your laptop you stretch your back over your chair and sigh in relief as it cracks a few times.

pulling your headphones down around your neck you roll your chair back toward your bed and grab your phone, sighing at the multitude of notifications, too tired to reply to anyone bar kyra.

you noticed two missed calls from your mum and frown checking the time in melbourne realising she'd likely have headed to bed now. sending her a few messages in apology explaining you were studying and would call her first thing tomorrow you slipped your phone into the pocket of your hoodie and stood.

again stretching out your cramped limbs your eyes scan over your planner, plucking off a few different sticky notes with a satisfied nod. your final exam isn't until monday and with the match on saturday you know you at least have tomorrow and sunday free to try and cram in the rest.

though this exam was your last it also happened to be the most content heavy, and though the reward of five weeks off loomed ever closer you knew you had one final push until you hit the finish line.

"done for tonight?" you jumped not having even heard your door open, glancing over to see your sister lingering in the entrance. "yeah. i've still got tomorrow and sunday, i think if i read another word its just going to go in one ear and out the other." you sighed running your finger down what you had left to revise.

"is that how it works when you read something?" you looked up to meet stephs amused smile, but seeing the look in her eyes you know it was as close to an olive branch as you were going to get.

"yeah wouldn't expect you to understand, its hard being the smart one." you quipped back with a smile seeing steph relax a little at your response. "come on, dinners done and calvin misses you." steph spoke with a nod down the hall.

"no dean?" you asked seeing as there was only two bowls of food dished up on the kitchen counter. "out with his team. which means we can watch big brother without his running commentary!" steph grinned handing you a fork as you grabbed the bowl of curry.

"this is so scripted, there is no way someones that dumb!" you mocked his voice. "nah why is she crying? shes doing it for the cameras!" steph joined in, the two of you taking a seat on the lounge with a laugh as steph flicked on big brother.

"hey." you looked over to her a couple of hours later, the two of you now watching a premier league match as calvin slept with his head in your lap, bowls of dinner long washed up and finished. "mm?" you hummed looking back to the tv and groaning as man city scored.

"i'm really proud of you."

"for what?" you frowned at her as she rolled her eyes at your defensive response. "juggling everything. uni, football, living in another country, media commitments, sponsors. it's a lot, but somehow you seem to be managing and thats very admirable!" your sister complimented with a soft smile as you pulled a face.

"you're so weird steph." you shook your head, scratching behind calvins ears as the older girl scoffed. "i'm being nice! that was a very nice thing to say!" she defended with a scowl. "well stop being nice its weird! makes me uncomfortable." you grumbled, never having been great at taking compliments.

"say thank you and tell me you love me." your sister demanded as now you scoffed, ignoring her request and focusing on the tv. "say it!" steph demanded, kicking you as you remained quiet.

"stephanie get off!" you yelled as suddenly her body crash tackled into yours, poor calvin diving off the lounge and moving toward his bed to avoid the squabble.

"you might be bigger now but i'm still older." steph grunted as you struggled to push her off, your arms eventually pinned under her knees as she sat on top of you.

"what are you twelve? get off!" you whined, squriming beneath her and trying to buck her taller frame off without any luck. "no. say thank you and tell me you love me!" your sister ordered, fingers digging into your ribs as you squealed.

"you've very comfortable and you're only making this harder for yourself." steph sighed pressing more of her weight down on top of you as you wheezed slightly. "fine! thank you, love you." you huffed with a roll of your eyes.

"like ya mean it!" steph scoffed in offence, crossing her arms and glaring down at you as you let out a heavy exhale. "thank you for your kind words stephanie, i love you."

"sorry couldn't hear you, bit louder?" "steph!"

"i love you too peanut." your sister cooed getting off of you though not before tightly squeezing your cheeks and shaking your head side to side. "i wish i was adopted." you mumbled with a huff, both of settling back into your previous positions.

"i already told you, we can arrange that if you like?"

~

"ky!" you grunted as she launched herself onto your back, arms locking around your neck and subtly kissing your cheek as you shifted her, continuing about with your lap. "people are going to take videos of this." you sighed knowingly.

"when do they not?" your girlfriend challenged though she slid off of you anyway, falling into step as katie and caitlin appeared on your other side. the four of you conversing about the game you watched with an amused smile as kyra yanked caitlins hair out of its bun and sprinted off, the older girl racing after her.

"so." katies arm slipped over your shoulder and you sighed giving her a look. "you gonna tell your sister about the two of ya then?" katie asked with a smile as you groaned. "not you too! your girlfriends already onto me about it and you saw how she reacted to the hickies." you huffed defensively, turning away so no one could possibly read your lips.

"which is exactly why ya gotta tell her! the longer ya leave it the worse it'll be because you didn't tell her." katie lectured and you sighed knowing there was some truth to her words. "its not that easy! she's insanely overbearing and overprotective, she won't take it well."

"you're twenty one years old catley, whats she gonna do? ground ya?" katie teased as you shoved her playfully. "i do still live with her." you reminded as katie shrugged. "so move out then!"

"let me guess, you can't?" the irishwoman smiled knowingly as you struggled to come up with a response and you looked up as kyra called you over. "seriously though, tell her!" katie squeezed you before heading off for the change rooms as you caught up with kyra and teyah.

"you coming over for dinner? teyahs cooking!" your girlfriend grinned as your friend rolled her eyes. "you're welcome to. we're ordering in!" teyah corrected smacking kyra as the two of them pushed and shoved one another making you chuckle.

"as much as i do enjoy free front row seats to your roomie wrestling matches, i have to study." you reminded as kyra groaned going limp in teyahs arms. "i'm losing to a stack of paper, some pens and sticky notes, unbelievable!" your girlfriend complained as teyah shoved her off and wandered into the change rooms.

"come on. just for dinner? then i'll drive you home. or i can help you study?" she offered eagerly with a smile, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as you smiled and moved a strand of hair out of her face.

"no you can't." you shook your head as kyra groaned again, slumping into the wall with a pout. "that won't work. my final exam is on monday ky and i have so much content to cover before then." you sighed apologetically, tugging her bottom lip out from her teeth.

"tomorrow?" "studying." "you can take a break! i'll take you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, a snack, just a drive, anything!" "as sweet as you are, i can't ky."

"can you hear that?" kyra questioned as you frowned, shaking your head. "thats my heart slowly cracking." your girlfriend sighed deeply tapping her chest as you punched her in the arm. "you're supposed to be supportive!" you shook your head with a laugh.

"i am! i'm supporting your health and well being by encouraging you don't burn yourself out and you take breaks in between your studies!" "mmm a likely story cooney-cross. come on!"

with that you linked arms with her and dragged her into the change rooms.

~

"here she is! the scholar herself!"

you laughed as you exited the building, feeling about a tonne lighter now you knew your exam was over and you had five weeks off from your studies.

you still had a whole host of commitments including international break so it was hardly 'time off' but it meant your list of things to juggle grew just that little bit shorter for the time being.

"you didn't need to do this you know?" you grinned as your sister handed you a bouquet of flowers, having requested she get the day off training to chauffeur you to your final exam which jonas was fine with.

"course we did. this is a victory for us too you know? no more sticky notes all over the house to pick up, no more stress head by the minute schedule to navigate, no more late nights helping you revise-" dean tugged you into a hug and ruffled your hair having come along in support.

"excuse me you didn't do any of that mate, that was all me!" steph scoffed punching him in the arm and pulling you into a hug as dean grabbed your flowers for you so they wouldn't be squished. "so so so proud of you peanut." you couldn't help but smile despite the nickname you detested.

"i appreciate all the support, really." you mumbled into her shoulder before you broke apart, starting the walk back to the car. "i don't know how you do it, just reading your planner gives me a headache." dean whistled as he fished out the keys.

"breathing and walking at the same time gives you a headache." you grinned, ducking behind your sister as he swung at you playfully and slipped into the drivers seat.

"oh yes!" you exhaled happily seeing the bagged up food waiting for you on the backseat as you closed your door. "all your favourites." steph chuckled as you eagerly pulled out the first box and a fork, the three of you chattering as dean drove out of camden and back toward st albans.

"does this mean we can have a celebratory bonfire and burn all your books?" dean grinned wolfishly as you parked in the driveway. "no you meat head i still have a year of study left to do after this." you laughed as steph rolled her eyes.

"and we don't burn books!" she shoved her fiance who held his hands up in defence. "and when exactly was the last time you even opened let alone read a book, stephanie?" dean challenged, sprinting off toward the front door as steph raced after him and you shook your head with a smile.

balancing your bag, flowers and leftover food in hand you made your way up after them, almost stacking it up the stairs as you caught your footing and exhaled, stepping inside.

rounding the corner you were met with an almighty cheer and this time you did fall to the floor, landing on your ass with a wince as your face burnt bright red and lia hurried to help you up.

"what the hell?" you grinned in surprise seeing nearly the entire team packed into the living room, half sitting on top of one another as streamers and balloons decorated the walls.

"we all wanted to celebrate you and your achievements." steph smiled, taking your food and flowers for you. "i haven't graduated yet!" you laughed as music switched on and you made your way around the room greeting all the girls.

"i'm just gonna chuck my stuff in my room." you notified steph who nodded and fell back into conversation with some of the others. no sooner had you shut your door did a foot kick it back open as a body slid in behind you and it closed with a soft click.

"hello lover!" the midfielder grinned wofishly and you laughed as she tackled you down onto your bed, attacking every inch of your face with soft kisses. "ky!" you managed to get out, your stomach starting to hurt from laughing as she hovered over you.

"did anyone see you come in here?" "nah i was super stealthy, im like a spy babe."

"i am also very very very proud of you, and now you're free!" your girlfriend cheered and you jolted as she pulled a party popper from her back pocket and let it off with a bang, streamers raining down on top of the pair of you.

"well for five weeks." "hey don't spoil this for me!" "oh for you? so sorry baby, how selfish of me." "exactly! horridly mean girl you are, very hot though so it balances out i guess."

"shut up and let someone else have the last word for once would you?" you smiled grabbing her shirt in your hand and tugging her mouth down to properly meet with yours.

"i missed you so much." kyra mumbled out as your hands tangled in her hair and she shifted, laying down beside you as her hands moved to the small of your back pulling your body flush into hers.

"its been three days!" you chuckled in between kisses. "i know! nearly killed me." she retorted, sending you a cheeky grin before pressing her lips back to your own, the two of you making up for lost time.

"we should really get ba-" but your words fell short as your girlfriend took your bottom lip between her teeth, dragging it down teasingly before pressing your mouths together again in a feverish kiss.

in reflection, kyra really really wished she let you finish your sentence.

"hey peanut we're ordering pizza what do you-" your door swung open as you pushed yourself away from kyra but it was much to late as stephs eyes widened and caitlin peeked over her shoulder with a grimace.

"steffy-" you started as you and kyra sat up, caitlin motioning to your shirt from behind your sisters back as your eyes glanced down and you hurriedly pulled it back down where it had ridden up, kyra doing her best to smooth out her hair from where your hands had been tangled through it.

"kyra go to the living room please." her words were deathly calm and that almost made it worse, your girlfriend looking at you then back to your sister whose eyes burned a hole in your head.

"go, its fine." you whispered, squeezing her hand as she nodded, still looking unsure as she stood. kyra hesitated as she tried to move past steph who adjusted her stance to block the doorway, looking the younger girl up and down wordlessly before moving out of the way as kyra scurried off.

"steph look i can-" you started quietly, stopping in your tracks at the look sent your direction. "hey maybe leave it for now, the whole teams here steph." caitlin stepped in, grabbing your sisters wrist who glanced between the two of you.

"you knew already, didn't you." she directed the words toward caitlin though never broke her hard stare toward you as caitlin sighed, the lack of answer the only answer steph needed.

"we'll talk about this once everyones left, get out of your room." and with that she was gone, striding off back down the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part 3?

[rispwr]

my sweet addiction - J.JK - OS (M) teaser

pairings : boss! jk x fem! reader (mentions of hoseok x oc)

sypnosis :Keeping everything professional, despite what happens between you two...in your mind...or so?

contents/warnings : explicit (ion wanna put the smut warnings rn), forbidden relationship, yeah i’ll put the real warnings in the actuall fic.

word count : 500+

genre :corporate au, fluff, smut, boss x employee au

Note : yeah I couldn’t do it. IM BACKKKKK

The boardroom was quiet, save for the occasional shuffling of papers and soft clicking of pens. My eyes were glued to the presentation on the screen in front of me, 

but my mind?

Completely elsewhere. Specifically, on Jungkook. my boss... who sat directly across the table. His dark suit hugged his frame perfectly, every inch of him radiating hotness and dominance. The way he fidgets on his lip piercing with his tounge always left me a little breathless.

 He leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers brushing over his chin thoughtfully as he listened to the current speaker.

god i could watch him all day

I should've been paying attention to the presentation. 

I really should have....

But all I could focus on was him, the way his hair looked so perfectly styled, the subtle flex of his hand as he turned the pages of the report in front of him.

The more I watched him,

the harder it was to stop. My mind began to wander... far from this meeting, far from anything remotely professional.

I imagined us alone, after hours. 

"m-mr. jeon..." my mouth leaves his name as a whimper in between our kiss. "jungkook..." i recalled again hoping to get some kind of verbal response from him. 

"fuck" he hissed under his breath. i could feel he was getting more and more impatient by the way he unbuttons my blouse revealing my bra. 

No one else around.

"the cameras-" i quietly muffled along with a soft giggle "i'm the only one who has access to the cameras, don't worry" he cups my face reassuring me.

His office door locked. 

The weight of his gaze on me, intense and unyielding. My breathing quickened just at the thought of it, at the idea of him pulling me into his arms, his hands exploring every inch of me while he whispered my name in that deep voice of his. 

God, the way he would say my name...

"fuck- y/n!" he grunts as he slaps my ass making me release a whimper "a-ah- kook!-"

Unconsciously, I shifted in my seat, pressing my thighs together as my fantasy deepened (or got worse). His hand would graze my skin, slow and deliberate, his touch sending sparks through my entire body. My heartbeat quickened, warmth flooding through me as my imagination took over me.

And then, to my horror, I let out a small, soft noise.

fuck. what a great way to ruin a meeting y/n l/n. i thought to myself feeling the embarassment flood all over me.

It was quiet, barely audible. But in the dead silence of the boardroom, it might as well have been a shout.

Everyone turned. All eyes were on me, including his. Jungkook's gaze locked on mine, those dark eyes narrowed slightly in concern—or maybe curiosity? His brows furrowed, and before I could stop him, he spoke.

"Ms. L/N... are you alright?"

Panic rushed through me, my heart pounding in my chest. Oh God, oh God. How did I let that slip out? My cheeks burned, a fiery red spreading up my neck as I scrambled for an excuse.

"Oh—yeah," I stammered, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... uh, stubbed my toe." I forced out a laugh, awkward and shaky, praying no one would see through the lie. "It's fine, really."

There was a pause—one that felt like an eternity—but slowly, everyone turned back to the meeting, attention shifting away from me. Everyone, except Jungkook

Taglist : ??? Com to joinn

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Oh Baby — Quinn Hughes

Summary: In which you go into labor in another state unsure if your husband will be there to meet your daughter with you

Content Warnings; Labor, Cussing, Needles

Pairing; Husband! Quinn Hughes x Fem Reader

“I’m gonna kill him! Jack, I swear to god I’m gonna kill your brother!” Jack rubbed your back reassuringly, “I know honey. But you can wait to kill him until after my perfect niece is here, right?” You gripped the sleeve of your brother in law’s t-shirt, “If you don’t stop talking Jack, I’ll you first!” A plethora of pain coursed through your body as another contraction ripped through you. Jack gritted his teeth as you clawed his hand.

Jack had always been the one of your two brothers in law that you were closer to, majority of that being the closeness in your ages comparatively to you and Luke. You were 3 years older than Jack and 5 years older than Luke. So you and Jack were closer friends. So when your water broke as you were meeting a realtor for a potential new location for your chain of restaurants, you called Jack knowing he was less than 3 hours away in Washington while Quinn was on his way back from Boston. You had checked into the hospital and gotten situated by the time Jack got to the hospital.

He rushed in holding your hospital bag for the baby, a bag for yourself and another bag of stuff for Quinn. He had called Quinn and reassured his older brother that you were okay, although Quinn could hear you cussing at your ob as she gave you an epidural block. Quinn assured his younger brother that he would be back in time to meet his daughter with you. As time progressed you began to lose hope.

You were in hysterics as you were finally pushing, “Jack I’m scared. What if I’m not cut out to be a mom? I mean I’m only 25 and we just got married. I’m scared that me and Quinn won’t work out.” Jack held your hand somehow tighter, “You are the most amazing person I know, you always know what to say Y/N, you are going to be a perfect mom. And you and Quinn are like a damn rom-com movie. You will be okay, the minute you see your baby girl you will know.” You sobbed as you forced another push, “Thank you.”

The door opened and Quinn rushed in, “I’m here! I may have a ticket but I’m here.” You looked up at your husband, “You made it.” Quinn pressed a soft kiss against your lips, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Your OBGYN smiled, “Hey Mr Hughes, you made it just in time. Give me one more push and you’ll have your perfect girl.” You clutched Quinn’s hand, unaware of Jack who had taken out a digital camcorder and had started to record you and Quinn’s faces as you let out a groan and clutched Quinn’s hand as you pushed.

You collapsed back when you heard it, your newborn daughter’s cries. You felt your heart clench as the OBGYN spoke, “So dad, do you wanna do the honors?” Quinn’s eyes welled with happy tears as he nodded, “Your damn right I do.” Quinn took the scissors and cut the umbilical cord. With the doctors okay, Quinn held your daughter oh so carefully and placed her on your chest. You reached your finger out and your heart shattered and somehow felt more filled as your daughter’s tiny hand wrapped around your finger, “She’s perfect. Look at her Quinn. That’s all us.”

Quinn melted into you, “She might be the girl I love most in the world now.” Jack smiled with teary eyes, “So what’s my new best friends name?” You smiled at your daughter, “Lorelei Jacqueline Hughes. After my mom and my girls alleged best uncle.” Jack grinned at his newborn niece, “Rory Jackie Hughes. You are so perfect, and you lucked out in the parent department. You have the best mommy ever. Your daddy is alright.”

You smiled weakly at your husband, “I have never loved two people this much. This is the best and most fulfilling experience of my life. I love you Quinn Hughes, with all I am.” Quinn kissed you softly, “I love you too Y/N Hughes, will everything in my heart.”

[amethystarachnid]

You're doing so much for Tony's fans 🥹

Please can you write a one-shot with Tony and reader going on vacation to a very cold and snowy place? Reader is pregnant, and they want to spend some time together before the baby arrives... Tony pampering the reader, kissing her belly, talking to the baby, cuddling by the fireplace, watching movies, Tony making them hot chocolate... all that cute stuff you can include 🥹💗

SNOWY LOVE - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff,

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: nothing more than what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing, this is really just a rom-com

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

Snowflakes drift lazily down from a soft, silver sky as you look out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. It’s a quiet morning—rare, with Tony’s unpredictable schedule and the ever-demanding world outside. But here, in the warm comfort of your shared home, you’re both wrapped up in a blanket of stillness. You rest a hand on your slightly swollen belly, the weight of it oddly comforting, already so much a part of you.

Tony watches you with that glint in his eye—the one that means he’s about to say something just on the edge of outrageous.

“So, how do you feel about a vacation?” he says, sliding his arms around you from behind, his hands settling possessively over your belly. His fingers splay out, warm and protective, and he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “You, me, somewhere snowy. A little chalet up in the mountains. Luxury, of course,” he adds with a smirk. “Just us, before our world gets a lot… noisier.”

You laugh softly, leaning back into him. "Snow? Mr. Stark, are you sure you can handle the cold?"

“Hey, I’ve got plenty of ways to keep you warm,” he murmurs, lips trailing down to your ear. You can practically feel his smirk as he nuzzles you, his hands moving slowly in circles over your belly. It’s something he’s done since you started showing—this fascination he has with your stomach. Sometimes it’s like he’s more excited about the bump than you are.

But the idea of a trip sounds perfect. Just the two of you, tucked away in some winter wonderland with no interruptions, no Avengers business, and no noise but the crackling of a fire.

“Alright, Tony,” you agree, turning around to look into those warm, mischievous eyes. “Book it.”

A week later, you’re gazing out at an impossibly serene winter landscape from the floor-to-ceiling windows of a sprawling, secluded chalet. The world outside is a pristine blanket of snow, untouched and glistening under a brilliant winter sun. The whole place is filled with all the luxuries Tony insisted on, but you hardly notice them. Just being here, far from the city, feels like a dream.

Tony insists on carrying you up to the bedroom, despite your protests. "You're carrying my baby," he says with a grin, as if that answers everything. And maybe it does. You can’t help but laugh as he sweeps you up and carries you over the threshold like he did on your wedding day, placing you gently onto the plush bed, which is already turned down and waiting.

“Comfy?” he asks, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Need anything? Foot rub? Bubble bath? Hot cocoa?”

“Tony, I’m pregnant, not helpless,” you tease, but his attentiveness melts your heart. You can tell he’s just as thrilled as you are to have this time alone together. He lies down beside you, his hand immediately finding its way back to your belly, resting there like it’s his anchor to you and to the little life growing inside.

“Not helpless, but definitely carrying precious cargo,” he murmurs, his thumb moving slowly over the curve of your belly. He’s quiet for a moment, looking almost shy, which is rare for Tony. His fingers trace gentle patterns, and you feel his lips brush against your temple again. He’s practically glued to you lately, as if being close enough to touch isn’t close enough.

“Hard to believe, huh?” he whispers, his voice low and tender. “That in a few months… we’ll be a family.”

You reach up, brushing your fingers along his jaw, softening the intense look in his eyes. “We already are a family, Tony.”

He smiles, and there’s something in his expression that looks almost vulnerable. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Guess we are.” He rests his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes, breathing him in. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his hands—everything feels right.

As the sun dips below the mountains, casting a warm, golden light over the room, Tony pulls you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, voice thoughtful. “I’m going to spoil the hell out of this kid.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” you laugh, already picturing it. “And the baby will be just as stubborn as you.”

He raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I think I’m very reasonable.”

You just shake your head, grinning. “Uh-huh. Sure, Mr. ‘I’ll-Build-a-Suit-Just-to-Prove-a-Point’.”

He chuckles, hands never leaving your belly, and you feel a flutter—small, but undeniable. You both go silent, wide-eyed, as the two of you share this first, private moment of feeling your baby move.

Tony’s hand stills, his face lit up with a mix of wonder and amazement. “Did… did you feel that?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling your heart swell as you look into his eyes. He looks like he’s seen something miraculous, and maybe he has.

He leans down, pressing his lips to your belly, murmuring words you can’t quite hear, but you don’t need to.

The first morning in the chalet is calm and quiet, and Tony seems determined to keep it that way. You wake up to find him already awake, propped up on his elbow, watching you with a soft smile as he strokes gentle circles on your belly. It's become his little ritual, like he's memorizing every curve, every shift. His touch is warm, tender, and though you roll your eyes, pretending you find it excessive, you know it fills him with a kind of awe.

"Good morning," he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. "How’s my girl? And our little peanut?"

You laugh, a light scoff. "You’re calling our kid peanut now?"

He shrugs, grinning as he continues his lazy circles on your stomach. “I like it. It’s cute. You know, like you.”

The day passes in much the same way. You’re still tangled in blankets by the fireplace hours later, Tony insisting you stay wrapped up, cozy, and “entirely off-duty.” You try to protest, of course, but he’s already thought of everything. He brings you mugs of hot chocolate topped with fluffy marshmallows, tucks you under layers of soft blankets, and ensures you don’t lift a finger.

"Tony," you groan playfully by midday, trying to wriggle out from under one of the million blankets he's wrapped around you. "I’m not going to break, you know."

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head with a smirk. "Nope. No sudden movements for you. Doctor Stark’s orders. You’re staying right here, keeping warm, and giving me an excuse to keep you all to myself.”

“Tony,” you say, rolling your eyes with a laugh, “you always keep me all to yourself.”

"True," he admits, pulling you even closer, his eyes lighting up as he rests his hand, yet again, on your belly. His thumb traces a lazy arc over the slight swell, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “But this… this feels different. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Both of you.”

You feel a warm blush creep up your neck. He’s normally so light-hearted, but when he talks about the baby—or you—he becomes almost reverent, so full of purpose. His gaze flicks from your face to the window, where snow drifts down in thick, fluffy flakes, blanketing the world outside.

“Look at that view,” he murmurs, as you both turn to take in the sight beyond the glass. “Snow as far as the eye can see. No distractions, no interruptions. Just us… just this.”

You lean back into him, smiling as he wraps his arms around you, the fire crackling softly in the background. It feels surreal, being here, tucked away from the world in a perfect little bubble. For a while, you both sit in silence, content to watch the snow fall and melt into the earth.

But after a day and a half of this "full relaxation" agenda, you're beginning to go a little stir-crazy. Tony’s fussing is sweet, but you miss having some independence. You shift a bit in his arms, trying to stretch out.

“Tony,” you start slowly, giving him a pleading look. “I can’t stay wrapped up in blankets for another minute. I feel like I haven’t moved in days.”

He laughs, a low chuckle, but there’s a sparkle in his eye, one that hints he’s had this plan all along. “Alright, alright, I guess I can let you get a little fresh air. But only a little,” he teases. “I didn’t bring you here just to let you wander off.”

You swat his arm lightly, rolling your eyes. “I just want a change of scenery, maybe step outside on the balcony and actually feel the snow, not just watch it.”

“Well,” he says with a grin, pulling you gently to your feet, his hands never quite leaving you, as if he’s afraid you’ll topple over. “Your wish is my command.”

He helps you bundle up—because of course, Tony insists you wear every warm layer he can find—and leads you out onto the balcony. The view is breathtaking, the mountains rising high and snow sparkling across the landscape, untouched and serene. You inhale deeply, the crisp air filling your lungs, and a sense of peace settles over you.

Tony comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pressing you back against his chest as you both look out over the snowy expanse. His hand instinctively moves to your belly, resting there with a kind of possessive protectiveness. You feel his fingers splay out over the soft fabric of your coat, and you smile, resting your hand over his.

“You’re really into this dad thing already, aren’t you?” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Never thought I’d say this, but… yeah,” he replies softly, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. “I can’t help it. There’s this little person in there—half you, half me—and it’s… I don’t know. Amazing.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and you can feel the weight of his words, how much he means them.

You lean back into him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “It’s amazing for me too, you know.”

He smiles, warm and so full of love that it takes your breath away. For a moment, you stand there, quiet and still, feeling like the only two people in the world, with nothing but the mountains, the snow, and each other.

“Alright,” he says finally, breaking the silence with a lighthearted tone. “Now that I’ve fulfilled your wish for some fresh air… how about we go back inside?”

You laugh, letting him guide you back into the warm chalet. He’s never going to let you go five minutes without checking on you and the baby, and maybe that’s okay.

The next morning, you wake up with a mission. The peace and relaxation have been wonderful, but with the Italian Alps right outside, you’re itching for a little excitement. You’ve been sneaking glances at the slopes through the windows, watching skiers carve graceful lines in the fresh powder. It looks exhilarating. And you’re ready to try it yourself.

"Tony," you say, giving him your most persuasive smile as he sits on the edge of the bed, already rubbing a hand over your belly in his customary morning greeting.

"Hmm?" he asks, clearly distracted by the sight of his hand on your bump. It's almost become his morning routine: wake up, say good morning to you, then immediately direct his attention to the baby as if the two of you are separate entities he needs to greet individually.

“I want to learn to ski," you say, leaning forward eagerly. “And snowboard, maybe. We’re here, right? It’d be a crime not to at least try.”

His eyes widen in mock horror. "You want to what?"

“Ski. It’s a pretty common activity in the Alps, Tony. You might’ve heard of it?”

He narrows his eyes, crossing his arms and giving you the classic protective Tony look. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re pregnant. Skiing seems… let’s call it ‘ill-advised.’”

You roll your eyes, standing up to wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a gentle smile. “Relax, Iron Man. I’ll be careful, we’ll take it slow, and you’ll be there the whole time, Mr. I’ve-got-a-suit-for-everything.”

He sighs, but you can see he’s starting to relent. “Fine. But if anything even remotely looks too intense, we’re calling it quits. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, trying to keep the excitement from bubbling over as you pull him down for a quick kiss.

After bundling up and taking a car to the nearby resort, you’re thrilled to finally be on the mountain. The snow glistens under the bright sun, and you can feel the crisp air on your face as you look out over the slopes.

Tony has rented skis for both of you and has been cautious all morning, making sure everything is “pregnancy-friendly.” But you start to get suspicious when he leads you, hand-in-hand, toward the bunny hill—the tiny, kid-friendly beginner slope with ski instructors in bright colors and a smattering of tiny skiers who look no older than five.

"Uh, Tony?" you say, holding back a laugh as he hands you the kid-sized poles. “Are we… are we learning with the preschoolers?”

"Yes, ma’am,” he says with a grin, clearly proud of himself. “Only the best for you.”

You arch an eyebrow, planting a gloved hand on your hip. “Tony, I may be pregnant, but I’m not a toddler.”

"Hey," he says, feigning offense as he crosses his arms. "You’re always saying I should loosen up. This is me loosening up. And look," he gestures to the hill, "the kids look like they’re having a great time."

You look over and sure enough, a tiny kid in a neon green snowsuit zips by, wobbly but determined, his instructor cheering him on. Tony raises an eyebrow at you in victory, and you let out a laugh.

“Alright,” you say, trying to keep a straight face. “Teach me how to ski… over here on the baby slopes.”

"That's the spirit," he says, giving you an exaggerated wink. “Now, follow my lead.” He slides forward with a certain smugness, easing down the slope in a careful, exaggerated snowplow that’s almost as comical as it is effective. You try to copy him, mimicking the position, and you both start inching your way down the hill like two overgrown kids.

"You're actually not bad at this," he calls out, looking back to grin at you. "You know, for a beginner."

“Oh, please, I’m practically a natural,” you tease, wobbling as you hit a small bump. He’s instantly alert, gliding over to make sure you’re steady.

“Natural, huh?” he teases. “You know, if you master the bunny hill, you might just graduate to… the medium bunny hill.”

You give him a playful shove. “Oh, you’re hilarious, Tony.”

But despite all his ribbing, he’s by your side every step of the way, guiding you through the basics. And every time you start to get the hang of it, he’s quick to throw in a joke or a playful nudge, making you laugh so much that staying balanced becomes an impossible task. Eventually, you both end up tumbling to the snow in a fit of laughter.

“Alright,” he says, helping you to your feet and brushing snow from your jacket. “How about we reward ourselves with a little break at that bar up the hill?”

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” you agree, your cheeks rosy and your breath coming in happy puffs.

You find a cozy bar just up the path, perched near the slopes with a view of the mountains beyond. Inside, it’s all rustic charm and warmth—flickering lanterns on each table, cozy booths, and a crackling fire in the corner. Tony leads you to a booth by the window, where the view of the snowy slopes and skiers zipping by makes for a perfect scene.

He orders a mulled cider for you and a whiskey for himself. “To surviving the bunny hill,” he says, raising his glass.

“Almost,” you correct, clinking your mug against his with a grin. “But don’t get used to it. I’ll be an expert by tomorrow.”

Tony laughs, leaning back and draping his arm around your shoulders. “Alright, but if you go pro, I expect a cut of your sponsorship deals.”

“Deal,” you say, laughing as you take a sip of your warm cider. You feel a hand on your belly, and you look up to find Tony looking down at your stomach with a soft, content expression.

“Peanut had quite the day, huh?” he murmurs, tracing a finger in slow circles. “First ski lesson with Mom and Dad. It’s only a matter of time before we’ve got a little snowboarder or skier running around.” He looks up at you, eyes twinkling. “Imagine, a little Stark racing down the slopes.”

You snuggle closer, your heart swelling as you picture it. “Sounds perfect.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and for a while, you both sit in comfortable silence, soaking up the warmth of the fire, the view, and each other. It’s simple, domestic, and so achingly perfect that it feels like a dream.

After a while, Tony’s hand finds yours under the table. “Alright,” he says, giving you a mischievous grin. “Ready for more of the bunny hill tomorrow?”

“Bring it on,” you say, grinning back. “But fair warning—I’m graduating to the medium bunny hill by the afternoon.”

He chuckles, tightening his hold on your hand. "That’s my girl."

As Tony slips away to pay the bill, you settle back in the booth, taking a slow sip of your cider and watching the snow gently fall outside. You’re lost in thought, already picturing yourself attempting to conquer the “medium” bunny hill tomorrow, when a figure suddenly slides into Tony’s seat across from you.

“Ciao, bella,” says a man with a thick Italian accent and an easy, confident smile. He’s tall, with dark hair peeking out from under his knit beanie and an instructor’s badge hanging around his neck that reads Marco. “I couldn’t help but notice you on the kids' slope earlier,” he continues, his gaze lingering a little too long for comfort. “You looked…how do you say…deliziosa on those skis.”

For a second, you’re too surprised to respond, but then you let out a small, amused laugh. “Oh, uh, thank you?”

He leans in, clearly misreading your laugh. “Not many adults are brave enough to take on the bunny hill. It’s very… endearing.” He gives you a grin that, on anyone else, might be charming, but on him is just a bit too self-assured. “I’d be happy to give you a private lesson sometime,” he says, his voice dropping suggestively. “Show you the ropes… maybe even move you up to a real slope, sì?”

“Oh,” you say, putting down your mug and giving him a polite smile. “That’s very nice of you, Marco, but I actually have an instructor. He’s, uh, very attentive.”

Marco raises an eyebrow, glancing around. “Ah, well, he can’t be that attentive if he left you alone. Such a bella donna should never be alone, sì?” He leans back, his gaze sweeping over you appreciatively. “Besides, you deserve someone who can give you all the… attention you need.”

From across the room, Tony turns around from the bar and sees you—laughing, apparently chatting with some random guy who’s leaning way too far into your personal space. Tony’s jaw tightens as he watches, his eyes narrowing. He knows that look; he’s given it a few times himself. And from the way this Marco guy is practically draping himself across the table, it’s clear he thinks he’s got a chance with you.

“Oh, no,” Tony mutters under his breath. “Not happening, pal.”

You’re still trying to deflect Marco’s attention politely when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Am I interrupting?” Tony asks, his tone pleasant but with a sharp edge that makes you almost burst out laughing.

Marco straightens up, his brows knitting as he looks Tony up and down. “Oh, scusa, amico,” he says, his smile not quite as confident now. “I didn’t realize she was with someone.”

Tony gives a tight-lipped smile, sliding smoothly back into his seat and draping his arm around you, fingers brushing casually over your shoulder. “She is,” he says pointedly, turning his head to plant a possessive kiss on your cheek, clearly for Marco’s benefit. “I’m Tony. And you are…?”

“Marco,” the man says, trying to maintain his cool as he extends a hand, which Tony promptly ignores.

“Right,” Tony says, looking unimpressed. He raises an eyebrow, giving Marco a once-over. “So, Marco, were you just, what… offering private lessons to my wife?” He emphasizes the word, his voice dripping with amusement and a hint of a threat.

You see Marco’s eyes widen just slightly as he glances at your hand. Of course, Tony had bought you gloves that are so bulky your wedding ring is completely hidden, which must be why Marco hadn’t noticed. He quickly recovers, chuckling and putting his hands up defensively. “Ah, mi dispiace, I did not realize! The snow clothes, you know, they hide… certain things.”

“Sure, sure,” Tony says, giving him a smile that’s as cold as the snow outside. “Easy mistake to make.” He pats his own chest as if in apology. “She’s wearing the ski instructor-approved disguise. Real easy to miss the whole married and pregnant thing, isn’t it?”

Marco’s face turns bright red as he stumbles over his words, looking everywhere but at you. “Ah, yes, well, I should… I should be going. Enjoy your stay, signora. Signore,” he says hastily before practically running off toward the other side of the bar.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you turn to Tony with an amused smile, crossing your arms. “Was that really necessary?”

Tony huffs, his arm still firmly around you as he shakes his head. “Necessary? That guy was two seconds away from trying to hand-feed you pasta.”

You burst out laughing, nudging him playfully. “You know, if you’d just waited a minute, he probably would’ve figured it out on his own.”

Tony leans in close, grumbling theatrically. “Absolutely not. I have to nip these things in the bud. And, for the record, I don’t appreciate other guys throwing themselves at you while I’m paying for our cozy little cider date.”

“Oh, so you’re the only one who can throw himself at me?” you tease, arching an eyebrow as you take a sip of your cider.

“Damn right,” Tony says, pulling you even closer, his eyes sparkling with humor. “That guy clearly didn’t realize he was dealing with the Tony Stark.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin betrays you. “Well, Mr. Stark, thank you for rescuing me from the terrible fate of ski instructor flirtations.”

Tony smirks, raising his glass. “Anytime, Mrs. Stark. Anytime.” He takes a sip, eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watches Marco retreat out of sight.

Then he turns to you, looking perfectly serious. “Next time, maybe you should wear a sign or something. Like, ‘Taken. Baby on Board. Do Not Flirt.’”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh yeah? What’s it going to say on the back, ‘Back off, Tony Stark’s property’?”

“Exactly,” he says with a wink, obviously pleased with himself. He settles back into his seat, one hand firmly planted on your belly as if staking his claim all over again. "Guess I’ll just have to keep my eye on you from now on. Can’t have any more Italian Casanovas getting the wrong idea.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, smiling as he holds you close, his hand tracing idle circles over your belly. “Guess that’s what I get for marrying a billionaire superhero,” you say, snuggling up to him with a sigh.

“Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And for the rest of the afternoon, with Tony’s arm around you and his gaze occasionally sweeping the bar for any would-be admirers, you realize that even with all the teasing and banter, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

After lunch, Tony insists on checking out the chalet’s indoor pool, especially since you’ve both been bundled up in heavy ski gear all day. He’s unusually excited, already talking about the “therapeutic properties” of a warm dip as he escorts you down the hall, arm draped protectively over your shoulder.

Of course, you know that Tony’s idea of “relaxing by the pool” involves detailed pre-planning. He spent a full five minutes earlier confirming with the staff that the water temperature is exactly within safe limits for pregnant women. You couldn’t help but laugh as he ran through a list of questions so long it could have filled a health inspector’s checklist.

Now, as you enter the pool area, you can’t help but smile at the ambiance. It’s luxurious yet cozy, with ambient lights reflecting off the water and soft classical music playing overhead. Families and couples splash around, and there’s a wall of glass that opens to the breathtaking view of the Alps, snowy peaks standing tall against the sky.

Tony’s hand is on your back as he guides you to the pool’s edge. “Alright, love, just take it slow,” he murmurs, adjusting his position to help you ease into the water.

You roll your eyes, smiling as you step in. “You know, I think I remember how pools work.”

“True, true,” he says, hands still hovering protectively, “but now it’s a whole different ball game. You’ve got precious cargo.” His eyes gleam as he says it, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he looks at you.

Once you’re in, he joins you, holding you close in the waist-deep water. The pool isn’t crowded, but it’s busy enough, with families and couples wading nearby. None of it seems to faze Tony, though. His focus is squarely on you—and, of course, your small but growing bump.

As you float in the water, Tony’s hands find your waist, and then, naturally, his fingers drift to rest gently on your stomach. He’s been in awe of this small swell since it first showed up, and now, he’s practically glued to it. You glance around, feeling a little self-conscious with the other people around, but Tony catches the look and just smirks.

“Oh no,” he teases, voice low. “Don’t you dare get shy on me now.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his hand still resting warmly over your belly. “I want the whole world to know I’m crazy about you and our little peanut.”

“Tony,” you say, laughing softly. “You do realize you don’t have to shout it to every stranger we meet, right?”

“Why not?” he quips, beaming. “I’m proud. They should know. Besides…” He pauses, glancing down with that soft, protective look again, “It’s not every day you have this much to celebrate.”

He leans down, pressing his cheek gently to your stomach, and for a moment you’re sure the people nearby must be watching, but he’s completely unfazed. In fact, he looks content, brushing a thumb over the slight curve and murmuring, “You know, kiddo, you’re going to be loved so much. By me, by your mom here. You’ve got it made.”

You smile, running your fingers through his damp hair as he whispers to the baby. “I think you might be getting a little too into the dad role already,” you say, trying to keep the laugh out of your voice.

“Is that a complaint?” He lifts his head, grinning at you.

You shake your head, smiling as he draws you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you in the water. “Not at all. I love it.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a soft, affectionate tone. “Because you’re both stuck with me.”

After a while of floating and talking about the future—debating possible names, dreaming of first steps, first words, and first Stark-engineered tricycles—you drift closer to the edge of the pool, resting against it with Tony still close. Every so often, his fingers return to your belly as if by instinct, rubbing small circles or tracing a lazy line from side to side. He’s got this way of being tender without even thinking about it.

A mother with two young children paddles nearby, and her eyes linger for a second as she takes in the two of you. She gives you a knowing smile, and you smile back, feeling Tony’s hand on your bump.

As the family moves past, Tony gives you a conspiratorial grin. “You know, you could always give them a heads-up. Let them know there’s another future superhero in the making right here.”

You laugh, poking him lightly in the chest. “They already got the message, I think. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

He chuckles, letting his arm settle around your shoulders. “What can I say? I’m enthusiastic.” Then he leans down, placing another soft kiss on your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. “This might just be the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Your heart swells as he looks at you, his gaze full of love and devotion. And with his arms around you, the warmth of the water, and the snowy mountains in view, you feel like you’re floating in the perfect moment, one that you’ll carry with you long after you’ve left the chalet.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice so soft it feels like a secret just for you.

The morning after your cozy pool time, you wake up with a scratchy throat and a stuffy nose, which you’re pretty sure wasn’t there when you went to bed. You groan softly, reaching for the tissue box on the bedside table, and give a tiny sneeze.

Of course, that little sneeze sets off Tony’s alarm bells like you’ve just pulled a fire alarm.

He’s instantly at your side, his hand on your forehead to check for a fever, his brow furrowed in deep concern. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t look okay,” he says, his voice going from calm to anxious in a heartbeat.

You try to wave him off, laughing a little. “It’s just a cold, Tony. I’m fine, really.”

But he’s already in full-on crisis mode.

“Oh no, this is not ‘just a cold.’ You need to lie down. Rest. Hydrate. Whatever it takes to get you feeling better, I’m on it.” Before you can protest, he’s pulling back the covers and gently tucking you back into bed like you’re made of glass.

“Tony,” you say, amused as he pulls a blanket over you, “I can still move. It’s just a cold.”

“Exactly,” he says, leaning down and giving you a soft, serious look. “That means it’s a virus. Which means I have to take all necessary precautions. And you”—he points a finger at you with all the authority of a doctor—"are to stay right here. On bedrest. Doctor’s orders.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at how serious he looks. “Doctor’s orders? You’re not a doctor.”

“Yet.” He winks, then pulls out his phone, typing furiously. “But Dr. Chen is.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him text your OB/GYN in the U.S. “Are you really calling Dr. Chen? Just because of a little sniffle?”

He shrugs, tapping the screen. “Yes. Because I want to be sure I’m doing everything to help you and our little peanut. That includes expert backup, if necessary.”

You can’t help but smile as he waits, phone in hand, glancing up every so often to check on you as though you might disintegrate if he looks away. Then, as if on cue, his phone pings, and he holds it up victoriously.

“She’s on board,” he says with a little too much triumph, showing you a text that reads, If Y/N is comfortable, plenty of rest, fluids, and warmth should help. Call if needed. He holds his phone with a flourish. “See? Expert-confirmed bedrest.”

You laugh and snuggle further under the covers, feeling the warmth of his concern more than anything else. “Alright, alright. Bedrest it is. But only because Dr. Chen said so.”

He nods, clearly pleased with himself, then presses a quick kiss to your forehead, mumbling, “Good call, Doc.” Then he’s off, already muttering to himself about getting you more pillows, a humidifier, and maybe a few dozen blankets.

As you settle in, you watch him scurry around the suite, gathering all your essentials as if you’re stranded on a desert island. He fluffs the pillows, fusses over the blanket arrangement, and keeps glancing back at you every few minutes, as if double-checking you’re still there.

“Alright,” he says, stepping back and eyeing his work critically. “Now, can I get you anything else? How about a hot drink?”

“Hot chocolate would be amazing,” you say, chuckling at how over-the-top he’s being.

“Hot chocolate, coming right up,” he says, snapping his fingers and practically running out of the room.

He returns a few minutes later with a mug of steaming hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings (he’d never go for anything less than five-star quality). He’s practically bouncing as he sets it down on your bedside table, arranging it like it’s a Michelin-star dessert.

You take a sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness. “Mmm. This is perfect, Tony. Thank you.”

He visibly relaxes as you sip, then settles into the chair beside the bed, clearly not planning to leave your side anytime soon. “So, here’s the plan,” he says, as if he’s unveiling a major Stark Industries project. “You’ll stay here, rest, drink all the hot chocolate you want, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to lift a finger.”

“I can’t imagine it’s that serious, Tony,” you say, trying to reassure him. “It’s probably just from being in the cold for so long yesterday.”

But he’s already waving off your words, leaning forward with an intense look of determination. “Listen, we’ve got less than five months before the baby arrives. That means I need you healthy and happy and not dealing with any unnecessary stress, discomfort, or…viruses. So if that means pampering you with hot chocolate and movies and blankets all day, so be it.”

You laugh softly, reaching for his hand. “Alright, fine, Mr. Stark. I’ll indulge you.”

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hand, his eyes warm with love and gratitude. “Because it’s really me who’s indulging. Now, I’ll get the laptop so we can watch some of those cheesy holiday movies you like.”

“Oh, so you’re finally admitting you secretly love them too?” you tease, already knowing the answer.

He sighs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Maybe just a little,” he concedes with a smirk. “But only if we can start with the ones where the couple fights, then has a dramatic confession at the end.”

“Deal,” you laugh, shaking your head as he pulls out the laptop, settling it onto the bed.

For the next few hours, you lose yourselves in movie after movie, his arm around you, the cozy warmth of the blankets surrounding you both. Tony doesn’t move an inch unless it’s to refill your hot chocolate, adjust your pillows, or bring you more tissues.

Every so often, he glances over, brushing his fingers over your hair or pressing a hand to your belly, murmuring things like, “How’s the little one doing?” or “Don’t worry, we’ve got you both covered.”

Eventually, as the snow falls softly outside and Tony nestles closer, your eyes start to drift shut. He notices, pulling the blanket a little higher over you, his hand resting protectively over your belly.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his voice soft. And as you fall asleep, you feel the steady warmth of his hand, his presence wrapped around you like a shield, reminding you that, no matter what, you’re in the best hands in the world.

After a few days of rest, hot chocolate, and constant pampering from Tony, you feel perfectly fine again—your cold a distant memory. It’s a relief to be able to get up, stretch, and take in the mountain views without feeling Tony’s eagle eyes watching your every move like you’re about to faint at any second. But, just as you’re settling back into enjoying the last of your time at the chalet, the final day of your trip arrives, and it’s time to pack up.

The goodbye comes too soon for your liking. As Tony arranges for your luggage to be sent down, you stand by the window, watching the snow-covered peaks as if they’re already miles away instead of just outside the glass. There’s something magical about this place, and leaving it just makes your heart sink a little—pregnancy hormones only making the ache stronger.

Tony notices the way you linger by the window, quiet and a little sad, and he comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you. “Ready to go, love?”

You swallow, trying to keep the sudden lump in your throat from turning into tears. “Yeah,” you say softly. “I just… I really loved it here. It feels like we’re leaving this perfect little world behind.”

He pulls you closer, his voice gentle as he murmurs, “I know. It’s hard to say goodbye.” He kisses the side of your head and gives your belly a soft pat, as if trying to comfort both you and the baby. “But don’t worry. I promise you, this isn’t the last time we’ll be here.”

You manage a small smile, leaning into him. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I’ll bring you and our little peanut back here once a year, at least. A little annual tradition, just for us.”

The promise settles warmly over you, softening the sadness, though the idea of leaving still tugs at your heart. “I think I’d really like that,” you whisper.

On the plane, Tony makes sure you’re settled into the comfiest seat, blankets piled up and pillows arranged just right. He brings you a fresh cup of tea and sits beside you, holding your hand as the jet takes off, lifting you away from the snowy Alps.

The closer you get to New York, the more your emotions start to bubble up. You try to hide it, focusing on the book in your lap and staring out the window at the clouds. But Tony’s eyes are on you, reading every little flicker of your expression like he always does. Finally, he slips his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Talk to me.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh. “I don’t know… it just feels silly. It’s just a vacation, right? But… it’s like I’m leaving behind this dream.” Your hand drifts down to your belly, and you feel a wave of warmth spread through you at the thought of the baby growing there. “Everything just felt so perfect there. I feel… I don’t know… safe, in a way I haven’t before.”

He studies your face, his expression softening. “That’s not silly at all. It’s exactly how you should feel.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “And listen—I know I don’t have to tell you this, but you’re safe wherever we are. Doesn’t matter if it’s the Alps, the tower, or the middle of nowhere. I’ve got you, and I’ve got our little one. We’re a team, remember?”

A small smile forms on your lips, and you blink back the tears that were threatening to spill. “Yeah. You’re right.”

He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips before placing it over his heart. “Besides, next year, you’ll get to see the Alps through a whole new perspective—with a mini-Stark tagging along. Who knows what kind of adventures we’ll have then?”

You laugh softly, imagining a future where you’re bundled up with a little one in tow, teaching them to ski down the bunny hills and showing them the same stunning views. “Okay, that does sound pretty amazing.”

“Exactly.” He smiles, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “We’ll have so many new memories, you’ll forget you were ever sad to leave.”

You settle back into your seat, comforted, and squeeze his hand. “You know, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re pretty good at this whole husband thing.”

He winks, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Only the best for you, Mrs. Stark.”

As the jet soars through the clouds, he keeps a warm hand on your belly, whispering a few playful promises to the baby about future trips and grand adventures. He says something about building a personal ski lift one day so you won’t ever have to brave the bunny slopes again if you don’t want to.

You laugh, feeling grateful for him, for this life you’re building, and for the adventures you’ve yet to share together. And as you close your eyes, leaning against his shoulder, you let the promise of future memories fill you with peace, knowing that with Tony by your side, you’ll always feel at home—no matter where you are.

in love with this story like really <3

[b00tyliciousbabe]

my baby daddies - ep. 2

wyatt cushman x male reader

summary: the scoop on how wide i buss it open for mr cushman xx

notes: hi beautiful ppl, back again! once he go black, he'll be back again. tell them hoes that it's crunch time, abdomen. yes i cop mad chanel and mad given. she did it again, imagine them!!! sorry nicki ate that verse tf UPPP. bout to make these bum bitches mad again, okay lemme stop. I KNEW EXACTLY WHAT I WAS DOING W THAT BLACK VERSE XOXO. hope you guys are all doing well <3 i will be releasing 2 other series ("the DILFs' and a surprise one which will become coming soon ) so stay tuned! any requests? ENJOYYYY…

you and wyatt met at one of your first shoots. you were the stylist’s assistant and your boss had tasked you with making sure all the models had their hair, outfits, and makeup all ready for the editorials. you were admired by so many in the industry, icons and the public alike, and even though you didn’t have your own company, it was clear that you were on your way to becoming one of the biggest names in fashion history. you enjoyed getting to know all the models personally, and it made the whole process of getting ready much easier. but one person that always had you flustered was wyatt cushman, who you had become really good friends over the years. you definitely found him attractive, but he was so distracting; the agency called him ‘the menace’ with all the harmless trouble he got the two of you into. years had passed, the two of you remained really close, but it wasn’t until the balenciaga show, that the two of you vocalised the unspoken tension between you two.

you were responsible for all of the outfits for the fashion week at balmain, a huge role that olivier rousteing himself appointed you to do. it was a huge success and the press had a field day documenting your achievements. your biggest supporter, wyatt, was there to give you the biggest hug on the runway, garnering an even greater cheer from the crowd. “Y/N, you’re amazing” he said staring intensely in love as he placed his hands on your lower back. the distance between your lips decreased as the two of you shared your first kiss…in front of the entire world. you pulled away; being brought back to reality and how 4.5 million people had witnessed the two of you together, you couldn’t help but laugh, as everyone applauded and jeered at your love. the rest was history.

one thing about wyatt, he is the goofiest mf ever and you love it. he’s always cracking jokes and the life of the party. You feel so safe around him, don’t get it twisted, he’d beat the shit out of anyone who even looked at you the wrong way, but you could handle yourself. flashback to the time where y’all were celebrating your collaboration with vogue: you were dancing the night away with your friends when some guy decided to get a lil too close. the creep groped your ass to which he was served a fat slap across the face. he fell to the ground and the crowd started cheering. wyatt smiled proud that you were able to defend yourself - so proud, that on the way home you took a detour where you guys had the best make out session in the history of rom coms.

the golfer’s wife and the holiday maker:

this man is always travelling and he loves to share those memories with you. other than being his personal photographer, the two of you are able to explore so many different ways of living on your journeys and you dream together of living abroad one day.

On one of your holidays, you had decided to take your boyfriend stargazing “come on wyatt, i don’t wanna miss it” you say gripping his arm as you led him to a quiet space overlooking the ocean. “babe, I’m pretty sure the stars aren’t going anywhere,” he chuckled “and besides, the sky isn’t as pretty as the star right in front of me” he stops and turns to face you. he strokes your cheek, looking down at you with a smile that rivalled romeo’s love for juliet. y’all sat down watching how nature looked so peaceful. he started kissing on your neck, leaving light hickeys to mark you as his. straddling your bf, you deepened the kiss as you felt him grow uncomfortably large in his jeans. you undid his trousers as 8 thick inches of uncut hairy cock made contact with the chill of the night. “you don’t know how much this turns me on, y/n”

you continued sucking on his tip, swirling and drooling all over him as a pool of your spit congealed in his pubes. all the while his hands gripped your roots urging you to take more and more of his cock. you gargled and took him like a champ.

“babe, ughh, I’m bout to, uuhhh shit shit” he came deep down your throat, cleaning your chin with his finger and then poking it in your mouth as he made sure to feed you with every last drop.

you laid down, proud of your efforts to calm him down and your head tucked into cushman’s shoulder, as you began to feel sleepy. your bf noticed this and chuckled to himself, using the blanket he brought to make sure you wouldn’t get cold. “mkay, y/n kinda had a point, this is pretty cool,” he whispered, still riding the high you gave him “but it’s got nothing on him tho, my cute ass bf” wyatt embraced you tighter. the wedding bells were already ringing in his head.

MORE SLUTTY THOUGHTS:

• he deffo has a spit kink. not saying that he’d treat you as worthless scum but, he’d would make sure to slut you out. and you fucking loved it. “you’re a dirty little whore, aren’t you” he’d grunt raw dogging your ass as he spat in your face.

• as dominant as he is, he likes to give you your time to shine, always enjoying it when you spell coconut with your hips as you ride his pole. as I’ve mentioned already his smile drives you crazy, and this position has him cheesing the MOST. wyatt just loves to see how much you’re enjoying the experience, and nothing turns him on more than when he can see the pleasure on your face. “fuck babe, you look so sexy riding my dick.”

• this leads on to missionary, nobody fucks harder in this position than this man. he definitely compensates for his soft strokes in doggy and prone bone because of how hard he hits your hole in missionary. He turns primal as well, feeling your chest bounce up every time he’s balls deep, but all in all he’s crazy for how your bodies are so in sync.

[andieperrie18]

Prompt: what's so hard between picking a woman who intends to stay and have future with you to a woman who just ends up lying and leaving you everytime? Reader is certainly not the type of person to be anxious of a woman. As she is better her.

English is not my first language and have mercy on ny broke grammar. I just needed to vent my jealousy.

----

"He's gonna choose her…"

Y/n felt her brow twitch from the statement that echoed through her earpiece. She turned towards the across her, in another glass containing the very woman her fiance can't seem to ever let go of.

Ada Wong was a past fling, if one could even call her that for the number of times he always coincidentally met her, that he can not seem to forget even when he was about to have a new future with Y/n. And at first, she understood and intended to work harder for their future, and just maybe it will encourage her.

But here she was. Long story short, Leon and Y/n were tasked to find and bring to custody a mad scientist that was currently working on a rather strong strain of the G-virus. And due to circumstances, Y/n was abducted. 

Ada ended up in the class container due to helping Leon escape on one route. It was heartbreaking to find the man who is supposed to be your soon to be husband, find a certain difficulty on who to save. To a point that he forgets why you are ranked higher than him and have more experience, and have easily put down this woman in red to the ground.

"Who is going to be Mr. Kennedy?!!" The scientist cackled loudly as the said gripped his pistol towards the mad man as he stood before two buttons. Where it is pointed to each of the boxes of the woman he is to choose to save.

He can only choose one as if he were to choose both, the scientist would press the control on his hand to kill both women.

It angered Y/n. It angers her that this situation and his obsession with a woman who always leaves him for more, is someone he can not let go of. He could barely even realize the disappointment on his fiances face.

"Captain L/n, this is taking too long enough, this mission will fail if we–"

"Shoot him." Y/n cut off the person on com as here eyes switch back and forth between Ada and Leon.

"Shoot scientist." She said rather loudly.

An action that took everyone in the room by surprise. Leon finally focused towards her but with confusion, the DSO needed the man alive. Why would he shoot the guy dead. "The DSO needs him alive Y/n you know we can not just do that,"

He spat, his eyes looking back at her. She finally looked at her, a sour taste hit his tongue and his chest churned at her stare. Her eyes were blank and devoid of spark. It was as if she was disappointed rather than scared.

"Shoot him. Now." She said once more. 

A wail soon echoed in the room and the door burst open to the lab they were in dropped to the floor. Leon turned to meet soldiers, back up. He turned to the terrace that the scientist stood, he found the guy was now being hold down, the remote away from him.

"We'll take it from here, Agent." A soldier said to him with a rather distasteful tone and the sound of chains lowering was heard. Leon saw the boxes were now lowered and sood both women out.

Ada was confused as no soldier was immediately to grab her. But her eyes directed her towards their savior.

Y/n was surrounded by soldiers that began giving her a bunch of gears. She walked between her fiance and the other woman. Or in Y/n's mind, the only woman that Leon Kennedy could ever love.

Shame was etched on the male's face but Y/n paid no mind.

The woman tossed something to Ada, who in turn caught it messily. It was her trusty grapple gun she always use to get away from Leon.

"Since you like playing chase, I guess you need that. Since you were quite an asset to get the madman, I'll give you an ultimatum Miss Wong. You can leave now and leave your chat with Agent Kennedy for another time…"

Leon frowned at how cold his last name escaped Y/n lips. Considering it was the supposed last name she was intending to carry.

"... Or you can stay here and get to chat with him before I pulverize you to the ground myself. We've fought before, I can assure you that those were not my 100% because I was intending to keep your face pretty since my ex-fiance likes it so much."

There is an animalistic glint in Y/ns eyes. One that made Ada took a step back as the woman loomed over her, surrounded by armed men, out numbering her. So he grappled aways but not before sparing Leon a quick gaze.

One that Y/n didn't not miss.

She then turns to the male. 

Leon failed to form words and had kept his mouth shut. He attempted to walk to her but something told him not to.

"Escort Mr. Kennedy back to the chopper. He is no longer fit carry on the mission."

And she turns her back with him watching.

---+

Who knew love could have a limit.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

A.N.: It's not as murdery as it sounds 😅 But, as per usual: minors DNI. It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen"--or something like that

1. Specialty Ingredients

Steve watches, mouth literally hanging open, as it happens again: his date is stomping away, mad.

He just called Steve a scrawny, cock-teasing twink for making out a little on the sidewalk, but then declining to go back to his place to hook up. The guy pressed the issue and Steve got frustrated and told him tersely that he wasn't interested because they just met, okay? That went over like a lead balloon.

Steve scowls as the jerk disappears around the corner at the end of the block. “Well fuck you too,” he mutters, feeling put out—and okay, a little hurt, too. He’s not a cocktease. He’s not scrawny.

Well, maybe that second one is kind of true, but Steve hates how guys will act like they’re into his small stature when they think he’s a sure thing, but then get all derogatory and mean about it once he tries to tell them he’s looking for more than a hookup and wants to take it slow—and not even hetero people slow; gay guy slow, which is super fast in comparison! Steve just wants to get to know a guy for once before sleeping with him. Is that really so bad?

He huffs and turns around, walking dejectedly back to his car. Another handsome asshole, another hope dashed, another pathetic date. He really does have the worst luck, and he’s getting plain sick of it. He checks his phone before he drives away.

Clint: Well???

Steve sighs. He types back a reply to his friend

Steve: another dud

Clint: dude …

Steve rolls his eyes and chucks the phone onto the passenger seat. He turns the key in the ignition, the radio coming on to an old eighties love ballad that just worsens his sense of dejection. “Fucking figures,” he mutters, putting the car into drive.

He leaves the song playing though, because sometimes wallowing is called for.

The next morning, Steve wakes up in a glum mood. He tries to focus on his work for most of the day, rather than his horrible luck with dating, but as he paints the hours away he winds up pouting about it anyhow. He sinks further and further into a depressing pit of self-pity and despair.

Clint texts him, asking if he wants to go out and sing karaoke or something, and Steve knows he’s just trying to cheer him up and all, but he really can’t stand the thought of being cheerful right now.

Steve hates gay guys, he thinks, stomping over to the crappy small sink in his crappy small apartment’s kitchen. He runs the water and rinses off his brushes with a vengeance they don’t deserve. Gay guys suck. Steve hates how shallow they all are, how vapid and self-centered. All they want is to go clubbing and fuck around and that’s it. None of them want a real relationship, and they think Steve is boring for wanting to have a meaningful conversation instead of suck their dicks right away. He gets grumpier about it the more he thinks, and he even has the thought that at least if he were straight he could find someone with feelings, a desire for genuine connection. “Gay guys suck,” he mutters to his poor, abused paint brushes.

Nevermind that Steve himself is incontrovertibly homosexual and has no choice in the matter of what his dating pool consists of. After all: ‘Haters gonna hate, players gonna play’. “Gaays gonna gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.” Steve sings the tune under his breath. He just hates it, hates it all. He’s sick and tired of playing the game.

He sends Natalie a nastily self-deprecating text:

Steve: Know any of your girlfriends who might want to date a faggot?

It’s not nice, and he knows she won’t like him using that word in that context.

Natalie Potential Rich!! Buyer: another douche huh?

He sighs and texts back an apology with a huggy emoji.

Steve: Sorry 🤗 Just frustrated. All the good ones are taken and I’m not interested in the skanks who’re left over.

Natalie responds with the “Give that man a Snickers” Diva-meme, which makes Steve realize that he is, in fact, hungry. He needs to get something to eat. He needs to focus on himself for a change. Maybe it’s finally time to stop looking for Mr. Right and just enjoy Steve Rogers. Maybe he should join a gym, start a new hobby, anything to fill up his time with himself rather than another person. 

He goes into the kitchen, thinking that he’ll make something yummy and binge watch a new series off his Netflix list, but scowls at the barren interior that greets him when he opens the fridge door. Nothing good to eat. “Fuck,” he mutters. He’s got to go to the grocery store now before he can sit down with a meal and relax.

And it’s raining outside, too. Just his fucking luck.

His phone ‘pings’ and he looks over at where he’d set it on the counter. The screen is lit up with a new notification from Grindr:

Henry super liked you!

He picks up the phone and opens the app. Henry’s profile pic is only from the neck down, showing off his abs. Steve rolls his eyes. The next picture is his lower half, a pair of tighty-whities stretched over his erection making it lewd, but still within the app’s no dick pic rules. The third pic is of his bare ass in a jockstrap.

Steve spends a second more than he intends appreciating the guy’s backside, but then he growls and jabs his finger at the screen to reject the guy. He’s fucking fed up with this entire thing! On a sudden, right-feeling whim, he exits the app and holds his finger down on the screen until all the icons start wiggling with their little x’s. He quickly proceeds to delete Grindr, Scruff, and Hornet from his phone.

He’s fucking done with dating. He’s giving up. Steve is just not meant to find Mr. Right. Not this year, anyway. He feels lighter after deleting the apps, and he slides his unburdened phone into his pocket with a sense of accomplishment and a shiny new idea: He’s not going to date for a whole year. He’s going to make this The Year of Steve.

Fuck yeah.

He goes to the hall closet to grab his umbrella and rain boots.

The walk to FreshMart is only four blocks from his apartment, but he still arrives at the grocery store a little damp from the gusting rain. He shakes off his umbrella by the door, grabs a basket, and directs himself towards the produce aisle. He’s added fingerling potatoes and some asparagus spears to his basket, and has just started perusing the meat section when he hears a man’s voice say, 

“Hey, have you ever had this?”

Steve looks over. The guy is holding up a package of bloody red … something. Steve blinks. “Um …”

The stranger twists his lips and shakes his head, looking at the meat. “It’s venison. I thought I’d freak my sister out with something a little different.”

“Your sister?” Steve asks, feeling very odd at being asked his opinion in the middle of the meat department. He looks between the package of raw meat and the stranger—He’s unusually handsome, tall and strong-jawed, brown hair styled in an effortlessly flattering cut. Steve licks his lips nervously. “Um, isn’t that like, deer meat?” He takes a step closer to peer down at the label. “Huh.” He didn’t know regular grocery stores sold that kind of thing. “That’s … exotic,” he says, for lack of a better word.

The stranger chuckles. “Yeah, well. I actually don’t eat animals, so …” he shrugs. “But her and her husband and kids are total carnivores. Thought I’d bring something other than my usual bottle of wine.”

“Oh.” Steve peers up at the man, trying to figure him out. The man smiles sheepishly and Steve winds up smiling, charmed, if somewhat baffled. He looks the man in the eyes and is taken by how pretty they are, how intense. Damn he’s good looking. “Well I, ah, couldn’t tell you what it tastes like. I’ve never had it.” He makes a face. “Like I said, it’s exotic.”

“Oh I love to cook with exotic ingredients. I’m kind of an amateur cuisinier. Or at least I try to be.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve gestures to the blood package. “But you ah … you don’t cook only vegetarian stuff?”

The man grins (and shoot, he’s got an unfairly attractive smile, too). “I guess I just like to satisfy other people’s appetites,” he says, lips parted enticingly. And then his tongue darts out in this totally casual, should-be-illegal sort of way. “I take it you’re a meat eater,” he says knowingly.

Is that a double entendre? Steve thinks it might be a double entendre. Yes! he wants to scream. Yes! He is 1000% a meat eater. He gulps as the guy’s eyes flick down and back up his body in a heated onceover, and Steve may not always be the brightest bulb in the box, but he can tell when he’s being considered. Is this guy really flirting with him? Here? In the freaking grocery store? Is that even a real thing that happens, anymore? Steve flushes and pulls his shopping basket up higher in front of himself, like a shield. “I–I see,” he stammers. “Well … um … yeah.” God, he’s hopeless.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Venison’ll probably be … different.” He nods at the stranger, awkward and aware that the other man isn’t moving away. “Well. Good luck.” He turns and vacantly peruses the meats, pretending that he’s more invested in searching out the perfect porkchop than he really is. He hears the guy’s footsteps moving away.

“Fuck it,” the man says, and turns right back around. He takes a deep breath. “I like your boots.”

“What?”

The guy nods downwards. “Your rain boots. They’re really cute.”

Steve looks down at his feet. His rubber boots are pink and printed with the golden girls’ faces. He looks back up at the stranger, stunned. No straight guy on planet Earth would ever say such a thing. “Um. Thanks.”

The guy holds out his hand, friendly, like he’s not aware he’s acting weird as shit. “I’m James.”

Steve probably stares too long at the offered hand, before he hurries to shove the handles of his shopping basket up onto his one arm so that he can take the guy’s—James’—hand and shake it. It’s pleasantly large over his own hand. “Steve.”

James smiles. He’s arrestingly handsome when he doesn’t smile and Steve feels like an even weaker creature when he does. “Sorry,” James says, looking down shyly. “I uh, I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” Steve asks, keenly aware that he may just be about to be propositioned. He winces at the idea of having to turn down another good-looking jerk.

James tilts his head. “Would you …” He hesitates, eyes flicking up and over as a woman passes them. She turns and goes down the soda aisle. He looks back to Steve, distracted. “I was gonna be crazy and ask for your number,” he says, flushing. Steve doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before James is scrubbing his hand over his embarrassed face. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re probably not even—” He looks back to the soda aisle where the woman had gone. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, and starts to walk away. “Human disaster in the meat aisle. Just ignore me, please.”

“Wait!” Steve blurts. James turns back around. “Why do you want my number? Were you gonna ask me out? Like on a date?” He uses the word purposefully.

“Well, yeah.” James looks apologetic. “Sorry. I know it’s weird.”

It is weird. But Steve is kind of charmed by the guy’s odd methods. He promptly pushes away his resolution of The Year of Steve. “James,” he says, taking a step closer. “Um, you can. Have my number.” He peeks up at him shyly. “If you want.”

James' happy-surprised-enthused smile is the best one yet. They exchange numbers.

Clint: Wait, wat do you mean, the grocery store??

Steve: he came over and just started talking to me.

Clint: … that’s weird, man. That’s shady.

Steve: actually it was kind of cute. Kind of idk old fashioned.

Clint: Kind of weird. Whats his Insta?

Steve doesn’t hear from James for almost three days. He alternates between finding it refreshing, and being disappointed. Maybe Clint’s right. Maybe the guy was just a weirdo.

Then, on the third day, Steve is leaving from his morning shift at Michaels when he hears his phone ‘ping’ with a notification. When he sees the name “Weird Meat Guy” on the screen, his face splits in a grin.

Weird Meat Guy: Been thinking about you since the other day.

Happy butterflies come to life in Steve’s stomach at the flirtatious tone of the text. His first instinct is to force himself to ignore it for at least thirty minutes, so that he doesn’t seem overeager. But then he thinks, fuck it, just like James had said in the grocery store before turning right back around to ask him out.

Steve types a reply.

Steve: hey stranger. Yeah I was wondering how that venison worked out for you. 😂What’s it taste like?

Weird Meat Guy: I don’t eat animals, not even for my sister’s Sunday dinners. But she said it was fine. Not as good as regular old cow, though🐄🥩

Steve: not surprising.

There’s a bit of a pause where he can see James is typing and deleting and typing again. Then,

Weird Meat Guy: Do you want to go out tonight? We could grab drinks or something?

Steve bites his lip, bad memories of “casual” meetups and “just grabbing drinks” dates and what they’ve always led to, in the past.

Steve: let’s go out to eat. At a restaurant or something. A real date.

James texts back almost immediately, and his answer makes Steve beam like a fool.

Weird Meat Guy: Hell yeah. What’s your favorite kind of food?

Steve can’t help it; he has a good-verging-on-great feeling about this guy. He tries to tuck away his expectations that this time it’ll be different. He can still do The Year of Steve if or when this goes wrong. He’ll just try this one last time though. Just once more before he swears off being a “meat eater” for the year.

He tells James that he really likes Italian food, and the next thing he knows, James is sending him the link to a really nice and expensive Italian place in Brooklyn. Steve thrills at James' enthusiasm, and grimaces at the three dollar signs that Google has lined up beside the restaurant’s name.

He tells James okay, figures he’ll just tighten up his budget a bit for a few weeks after.

James meets him inside the restaurant, at the bar. He’s already got a drink in his hand. “It’s an old fashioned,” he tells him sheepishly. “Sorry to start without you.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I just get a little nervous when I ask a cute guy out to dinner.”

Steve freezes, but then his mouth twitches. “Oh,” he says. “You, ah … you think I’m cute, huh?”

James grins and winks at him in a way that is devastating and should-not-be-allowed. “Yeah. I sure do.”

Steve is charmed.

The hostess seats them in a dark and cozy booth in the back of the restaurant. Steve settles in and looks around, impressed. “This is a really nice place,” he says, genuinely meaning it but also kind of anxious to open his menu and get a look at whatever prices garnered a $$$ on Google.

“Yeah it’s one of my favorites.” James is grinning at him from across the table. “I was so glad you picked Italian, cause then I knew I had the perfect place to bring you.”

Bring you. Steve looks down and tries not to smile too obviously at the words. “I like it so far,” he says, peeking up coyly at James so that he knows Steve doesn’t just mean the restaurant.

James seems to get it, if his expression is anything to go by.

They open their menus and Steve’s stomach drops at the forty dollar appetizers. Shit. He wishes he’d found a way to mention to James that he’s kind of a starving artist.

“Do you like mushrooms?” James asks, oblivious to Steve’s internal panic. He’s looking across the table at him with eager eyes. “They’ve got the best stuffed mushrooms I’ve ever had. I think they put crack in ‘em.”

Steve laughs despite himself, then decides ‘fuck it’ once again, and closes his menu with a nod. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s do it.” He’ll live frugally for a month if he has to.

James orders them the appetizer and an entire bottle of wine that he knows by its specific name and year. All Steve makes out is the “‘94 ” part of it, and his heart rate picks up. He’s about to really worry about how the hell much a place like this is going to charge for an entire bottle of wine that’s older than he is, but then when the server delivers it and pours for them, James shoots him a wink and tells him, “S’my treat.”

Oh. Steve’s heart flutters as much at the gentlemanly gesture as it does at the possibility that maybe James will pay for the whole meal. A guy can dream.

The mushrooms arrive and Steve gushes to James about how he was right: they are amazing. They get to talking, covering the standard ‘first date’ questions, and it’s stupid and awkward like it always is; but also it isn’t, because James seems to laugh about the awkwardness of it, too. And that makes it kind of fun.

James is thirty-seven to Steve’s twenty-seven (Daddy kink: activated). He has a place in Manhattan but his sister lives in Brooklyn, which is why he was shopping at the FreshMart in Steve’s neck of the woods the other day. He’s got one parent still living, grew up with a loving family but “pretty poor” in Jersey. He hasn’t been in a relationship or even been on a date in “a really long time.” He wants to travel more but he lets his work consume him too much. He doesn’t eat animals.

He’s also really good at making the whole first-date interrogation-phase go smoothly. It’s fun with him, Steve realizes, not awful and strained like it usually would be. Their conversation just seems to flow naturally and easily, both of them smiling almost continually as they chat and joke.

Steve is utterly charmed.

“Okay,” James says, as he pops another mushroom into his mouth and then talks around it. “I’ll do another boring one: what do you do for work?”

Steve gulps and delays answering by taking a sip of the wine—a red that downright tastes expensive. “Um, well my passion is my art. It’s what I went to school for.” He tucks his lips in and shrugs. “But, ya know, ‘starving artists,’ and all that. So I work part time at Michaels, too.”

James doesn’t look like he’s thinking that Steve’s a stereotype or a loser or anything like that. “That’s awesome!” he says, sounding like he genuinely means it. “What kind of art? Or like, what medium do you work with?”

Steve blinks. Nobody ever asks him good questions like this, like they actually care and want to dig deeper into who he really is. “Um, mostly acrylics. Some watercolors and pencil-charcoal sketching,” he says, flustering at the way that James pays such close attention to his answers. “I like to mix it up sometimes, but mostly it’s those three.” He shrugs. “I sell online. I have one really loyal patron—she keeps me afloat. S’nothing that special.”

“Sounds like you know your stuff,” James counters, not letting him insist on his own mediocrity. “If you went to school for it and all, then you must be pretty good. Don’t you have to, like, audition for art school?”

Steve blushes and looks away. “Well. Yeah.”

“And I bet you get all your supplies cheap with the side gig, huh?”

Steve stares at him. “Yeah,” he says, impressed. “Employee discount.”

James nods sagely, as if he’s ever had to worry in his life about the utility of an employee discount. He might’ve grown up poor, but he’s clearly well-off now. Steve can tell that the suit he’s wearing is a custom tailored deal, and the wine he’s ordered for the table has a bouquet of oak and dollar bills. “I think it’s really brave of you,” he’s telling Steve, looking like he admires him or something ridiculous like that. “That you’re following a passion like that? That you can just …” he makes a shaping gesture over the table with his hands, “make something with your own two hands and then sell it? That’s incredible.”

The more James talks, the more Steve gets his hopes up that he might actually be A Really Great Guy™️. Steve can hardly stand to take all the compliments, so he turns the question back around on James: “What about you? What do you do for work?”

James hesitates. “... I’m a surgeon.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, making him look like A Gold Digger™️, probably. He closes his mouth. “Oh. Wow, that’s … that’s neat. Medical school, then, huh?”

James smiles through a wince, as if being a freaking doctor is no big deal. “Yeah. It was rough for a few years, but I got through it. I’m in a good place now. It’s pretty smooth sailing.”

“So do you work at like a hospital or something?”

“Not exactly.” He stares at him for a long moment, then suddenly says, “Gosh, I’m just really attracted to you, Steve.” Steve blinks, taken-aback. He reaches for a hurried sip of his wine and tries to think of a response to the weird shift in conversation. “Sorry,” James hurries. “I just felt like I had to say it.” He gives Steve a tender look rather than a lecherous one, which is a welcome change from the usual script. “I think I might really like you.”

Steve flusters and averts his eyes to the tabletop, peeking back up at James a few times. The guy is totally focused on him. It’s intimidating, but not in a bad way. “Yeah,” Steve eventually manages to murmur. “Yeah I think you might be nice.”

James teases him about the ‘nice’, and they fall into easy banter again as they finish the mushrooms and open up their menus to choose their entrees. Steve’s once again fixated on the prices, and he immediately starts trying to see if there’s anything under sixty dollars …

“By the way,” James says casually, not looking up from where he’s reading his menu. “I know this place is fucking ridiculous: I got it covered.”

He says it all easy and nonchalant, like it’s no big deal that he’s treating Steve to what’s probably a three hundred dollar dinner, and Steve once again feels like he’s on a date with a hero, a real gentleman. “Kay,” he says smally, feeling delighted and hopeful as heck on the inside. 

He orders a seafood linguini, and James gets a spinach and cheese tortellini dish. “This is so good,” Steve practically moans around a mouthful of his food. 

James makes a noise of agreement, stuffing another tortellini shell in his mouth. “Mmph.”

“So you really don’t eat any meat?” Steve winds up asking. “Like, not even fish or chicken or anything?” Where does he get his protein? James looks like he keeps in good shape …

James chuckles. “Nope. Haven’t touched the stuff for … gosh, almost fifteen years.”

“Wow.” Steve spears up another shrimp from his pasta and wonders if it offends James. “So like, is it an ethical thing or just …”

“No, no. I just kind of had this epiphany one day—while I was tenderizing a thigh, mind you—that all the things I was eating were living creatures, that we’re animals just like they are.” He makes a thoughtful face as he considers it. “It’s not a moral viewpoint so much as it is a …” he trails off and his eyes return to Steve with an apologetic shrug. “I dunno. My viewpoint shifted that day. Couldn’t shift it back. I’ve tried so many other things now, animal meat just doesn’t taste the same anymore.”

“I can respect that.” Steve wiggles his fork that’s speared with a juicy scallop. “As long as you don’t mind this.” 

“No, no way. Don’t you remember where we met?”

Steve snickers. “Oh yeah, how could I forget. What was it you said? You like to ‘satisfy other people’s appetites’?” He chances a flirty look across the table. “Wasn’t that how you put it?”

James chews, smirking, and he winks at Steve again. Goddamn. “Yeah,” he says lowly. “Yeah. I sure do.”

On the sidewalk outside the restaurant they stand close together, bundled in their jackets. Neither one of them seems to want to leave. “Thanks again,” Steve says. “For dinner. It was really nice.”

“My pleasure.” James takes a step closer, so that they’re almost toe to toe. “I was so excited to go out with you,” he says. He brings a hand up and traces the side of Steve’s face with the backs of his fingers, not looking at Steve’s eyes but rather where he’s touching his cheek. “You’re different,” he murmurs. "And I knew it the moment I met you."

Wow, what a fucking intense thing to say. Steve … doesn’t hate it. “I am?” he whispers, watching his breath swirl on the air between their faces.

“Mmhm. I can tell.” 

Steve shivers and fights the urge to press into James’ touch on his cheek. It feels unduly intimate, and they’re already so close. “I was excited for tonight, too,” he confides. “I’ve had a lot of bad luck with dating. Was getting sick of trying, to be honest.”

“But?” James asks softly, and Steve looks up at him, for once feeling open and honest enough to just admit,

“But I didn’t meet you on some app. And you liked my stupid Golden Girls boots.” James chuckles and Steve looks up, taking in his face up close: the dimple in his chin, the creases of age that’ve barely begun to collect at the corners of his eyes, that one tiny patch of grey in his beard. It makes him all the more insufferably handsome. “And you’re charming,” he whispers. “So there’s that.”

James smiles softly. “Aw, shucks.”

“I think you’re a really nice guy, James. I’d like to see you again.”

James' smile widens hopefully. “Yeah?” he says, leaning even closer.

“Yeah. I think, well … I just think …”

“What?” James touches his face again, this time palming his cheek. “Tell me.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’.” Steve finally lets his eyes slip closed, enjoying the feeling of James’ hand on his skin, the cologne he gets a whiff of when they’re standing this close. “You smell nice.”

“Thank you. Still haven’t told me what you were gonna say.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Oh, I’m just getting my hopes up about you, is all.” He’s still got his eyes closed when James kisses him. He inhales sharply through his nose, surprised. But he doesn’t pull away, and they just … keep kissing.

Eventually James cups his face with both hands and Steve moans, because the way James is kissing him feels so natural and good. He feels like he can taste James' good intentions as they make out softly, right there on the sidewalk.

When they part they’re both panting a little, heavy-lidded eyes flicking over one another, gauging, desire tinged with uncertainty. “That was …” James breathes.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and they both stare at each other for another long moment, before Steve says, “Fuck it,” and surges in to grab James by his jacket and kiss him again, this time harder. James whimpers needily into his mouth, and heat shoots through Steve’s belly at hearing it, arousal flaring to life faster than he can handle. Suddenly his pants feel a little tight, and he wants James so badly he can hardly stand it. “Oh man,” he groans, pulling away from the kiss, grimacing at himself for what he’s about to say. “I really, really never do this,” he promises against James' lips. “But … Do you want to go back to my place?”

James' eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

They kiss eagerly one more time and then hurry off, giddy, hands clasped, and headed in the direction where James says he’s parked his car.

Masterlist

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[void-draws]

Small pt. 2 of my previous post

As per usual: Nsfw/kink dni

[oh-stars]

Tally Marks

Assumption

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 851 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

--

Eddie waits at the edge of the Rom-Com aisle as Steve finishes ringing up Mrs. Jenkins. 

“These are due next Friday,” Steve reminds her as he slides over the tapes, “so you’ll have to come back and see me.” 

Mrs. Jenkins takes the tapes and smiles, looking a little flustered as she bats her eyes at him. She’s old enough to be Steve’s great grandmother, but it’s kind of sweet his boyfriend has this power over people. He should probably hate Steve’s instinctive need to flirt with the customers (and everyone else he meets) but he knows Steve doesn’t know any different. To him, he’s just being polite and working his charm (snaps and all) to make someone’s day, even though everyone else can clearly see he’s being a flirt. 

Eddie’s fine with it. For the most part. 

Robin pushes her cart behind the counter and walks around to the computer, pushing Steve out the way. “Are you setting up a hot date with Mrs. Jenkins in our place of work, Steven?” 

Steve shrugs, tossing Mrs. Jenkins a wink. “What can I say? I can’t help myself around beautiful women, you know that.” 

Mrs. Jenkins waves him off. “You’re too much, Steve,” she says, cheeks rosy. 

“Let me help you to your car,” Steve says as he quickly rounds the counter to take her arm in his. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t have to open the doors for herself.” 

“Robin, dear,” Mrs. Jenkins says as she and Steve start to take small steps toward the door. “You keep an eye on this one. He’s a keeper and you’re mighty lucky to call him yours.” 

Steve’s eyes find Eddie’s, lips pressed together in a smirk. “Now who’s being too much?” 

Mrs. Jenkins laughs and together, they walk to the door, where Steve holds it open for her. 

As the door shuts behind them, Eddie steps out from the aisle to watch Steve help her into her car and make sure she’s settled. “Does he do that a lot?” he asks.

Robin’s busy pulling something out from under the counter. “Flirt? Eddie, you’ve met him–” 

“No, no,” Eddie says as he takes his rightful place against the counter. “The whole walking her to the car song and dance.” 

“Only with our more senior customers,” Robin says as she uncaps a marker, a whiteboard now lying on the counter in front of her. “And the ones who give him candy for his trouble.” 

She’s marking a tally among a long line of them across the top of the board when Steve walks back in. 

“Butterscotch?” he asks, offering the handful of them he’s holding. Something clinks against his teeth – Eddie tracks the movement to see Steve playing with one already in his mouth. This man has no right making hard candies attractive at ten o’clock in the morning. 

Eddie plucks one out of his hand as Steve sets the rest against the computer’s base. “What’s with the tallies?” 

Steve peers over the counter to see Robin’s board, which she is counting the tallies repeatedly and comparing it to the two numbers at the bottom of the board. “Only two more days, right?” 

“Yup,” she says, “and so far, I'm the closest.” 

“That’s so not fair.” 

“How? There’s no skill in guessing a number–” 

“You’ve got a freaky third sense–”

“Sixth sense,” Eddie and Robin say at the same time. “

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not losing.”

Robin sucks in a breath through her teeth. “I hate to break it to you, Steve, but I think you are.” 

“What are you losing?” Eddie asks. 

Steve sighs and presses their shoulders together. “We have a bet going to see who can get closer to the number of people that assume Robbie and I are dating.” 

“And so far, I’m only three off and Steve’s five.” 

“That’s so close!” 

“But no cigar,” Robin says with a grin as she puts the board and marker away. 

“Two days is a lot of time,” Steve says. “I think I can get five people to assume we’re dating.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a snort, “like you two have any problems in that department.” 

Steve smirks. “And then,” he says with a little trill to his voice, “Rob will have to buy me lunch for once.” 

“In your dreams, Harrington.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that threatens to break anyway. God, he loves these idiots. 

Robin turns to him, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a shift to get to?” 

He glances down at his watch and– “Shit. I’ll see you later.” Eddie chances a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek and tosses a wave over his shoulder as he heads out of Family Video, starting the mighty long journey of walking next door to the Arcade for his shift. What he wouldn’t give to have coworkers half as fun as the two of them, but alas, it’s just Eddie during the day shifts at the Arcade, so he’ll have to have his own fun. Or hope Steve comes to bother him on his break. Whichever comes first. 

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[randomshitwhore]

Time To Earn the Mask

word count: 2k

pairing: keegan x reader {gender not mentioned}

warnings: guns and violence

summary: it's federation day and you're on your first mission with Logan, Hesh, and Keegan, trying to find the location of the Ghost enemy; Rorke

AN: yes believe it or not, before Ghost happened, Mr. Keegan P. Russ was my first love. COD: Ghosts will forever own my heart <3 happy thanksgiving y'all, enjoy :)

You looked down at the party happening 400ft below you. Lights shone in a dozen different directions, music blaring so loud you could hear the lyrics clearly from the building you were on top of. Thousands of people, enjoying the fireworks not caring that they could be mowed down by federation soldiers whenever they felt like it.

“What’s up? You looked upset..”

You jumped slightly at the voice coming behind to see your partner, Keegan. You sighed as you swung your legs around so you were facing him. His face was covered in black and gray warpaint, with his ghost mask, tucked in between the waistband of his pants. “It’s nothing, really, I’m fine” You answered, looking back behind you at the fireworks and the people down below. You felt his gloved fingers turn your face back to him, carefully trying not to smudge your own warpaint. “They’ll be fine, if it’s the people your really worrying about, okay?”He said, taking your hands and holding them in his own.

You felt the tension slowly release, not by much but enough for you to get ahold of yourself. The innocent people below didn’t know you and you didn’t know them, but empathy was the one thing you couldn’t bear to lose when the world itself was going to shit.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He gently planted his lips to your forehead and rested his head on yours. You knew how much he loved you, and he knew how much you loved him. “Keegan, we got our guy with information on Rorke. Ready to move in?” Hesh’s voice came in other your radio com. “Yeah, just give me two seconds,” Keegan answered back. You felt him slightly adjust one of his beanies, his favorite one you decided to wear on this mission, and pulled you to your feet. “Alright. Time to earn the mask. Ready, love?”He asked, planting another kiss on your forehead before pulling his mask out of his belt loop and pulling it down, all while looking you in the eyes.

“Ready..”

You and Logan took out guards while Hesh and Keegan called them out. You slid through an opening that Logan had made in the window and slipped behind Keegan to the control center. “Logan patch in over there, Y/N, you patch in over here,” Keegan ordered. You and Logan pulled out your virus uploaders and patched them into the control center, both your percentages climbing quickly.

Your eye widened suddenly when you started to hear a group of voices down the hallway. Guards. “Tangos coming. Finish up you two” Keegan quickly whispered. You could feel your hands shaking as you silently pleaded in your head for the virus to upload more quicker. You looked up to see your partner slipping into the dark, just wide enough alcove to hide, Logan following on his side soon after. “Y/N, Finish or Hide!” Keegan hissed at you. Your hands began to shake more as your final percentages loaded in. You ripped your uploader out of the circuit board and carefully backed up into the dark alcove. You felt your backside harshly press up against Keegan, his hands landing on your waist. “Such a tease..”He silently laughed into your ear, just loud enough for only you to hear. “Oh my god, Keegan, I’m sorry I’m so-” You started but felt his gloved hand press against your mouth as the enemy guards passed. You reached for a pistol near your left hip. “No, weapons down. Let them pass.”Keegan whispered into the radio just in case Logan got the same idea as you. You watched one of the guard’s stop, fidgeting with his tablet, and look right in Logan’s direction.

“Kee-”

“I see him, dont move a muscle.”

Keegan snaked around you, removing a knife from his tactical belt in the process. You watched as his head shot to the left and then his hand moved straight to the man’s throat, stabbing him instantly. He gently kicked back with his boot, signaling you to move out of the way, which you completed of course. “Wait for them to leave,” Keegan spoke into the radio. You listened until you couldn’t hear them talking anymore. Once the three of you were sure they were gone, you all made a bolt for the window.

“Kill the lights..” Keegan ordered silently. You watched Logan press a button on his uploader and the building light go out one by one. “Beautiful.”

You looked over at Logan taking out a guard, watching the guard’s body fall over the balcony he was on to the busy streets below. You kept close to Keegan while Hesh stayed close to Logan moving down the building. You all were careful not to make too much noise on the glass and alert any nearby guards of your position. You looked away from them to notice a guard walking out below you and signaled the others to stop.

“Hesh, Logan. Guarding moving out from underneath you, think you can one of you can take him out quietly?”You whispered into your radio, looking over at them. “Yeah, we can make it work. You and Keegan ready if more come out?”Hesh radioed back. You nodded your head. Your eyes trailed Logan’s body moving carefully down the building closer to the guard before dropping on top of him and stabbing him in the throat.

Two guards outside to the balcony after hearing the thud. Logan grabbed another knife and shot it right into one of the guard’s throats while you ripped a knife out of your belt and loosened your cable to drop on top of the other guard, knocking him straight to the floor before your knife entered the side of his throat, blood shooting across your forearm. Keegan drops right behind you and helps you to your feet. “Shit, Y/N. You alright? I looked away for a split second and when I looked back you were gone,” Keegan asked. “Yes, I’m alright. Come on, let’s go if we wanna catch this guy” You answered. You peeked your gun around your corners before signaling the group to move in. “Remember, we gotta shut down the elevators and seal off his chance to bolt. Hesh, You and Logan take the main bank, Keegan and I will go this way to the northeast corner, cool?”You asked, looking them all in the eye to make sure you had their attention. “Cool, we’ll cut the primary and secondary controls, and meet you two at your corner,” Hesh said before tapping Logan to move in his direction.

After you all rendezvoused in your meeting location, were forced to jump off a balcony into another part of the building, and killed probably over a hundred enemy soldiers in the process; you finally made it to the location Ramos was supposed to be in. Logan went with Hesh to the farther door while you stayed with Keegan, ready to rush him to get info on Rorke.

“In position”

“Likewise”

“Alright, let’s do this,” Keegan said before slamming his shoulder into the door, only to be met with an empty room. Damn it! he’s not here!”You said, stomping your boot hard into the ground. “I got him,” Hesh said before opening the door violently with Ramos, sending him over the desk and onto the floor. Logan walked over and yanked him up while Hesh removed a pistol from his belt and pointed it straight in between Ramos’s eyes. “He knew you would come” Ramos hissed, his hands raised above his head. You closed your eyes as you could feel your jaw tightening with every word. You fucking desiped Rorke, he killed your best friend Ajax, he was basically a brother to you. You wanted nothing more than to kill him, nice and slow.

You opened your eyes to see Ramos pushed against the desk, Hesh placing all his body weight on him. You stomped over to Ramos, slamming your hands on the desk and startling everyone in the process. “You got five fucking seconds to deliver coordinates on Rorke before I kill you, nice painfully, and slow. Four,” You said, your spit landing on his face as you held up your fingers. Keegan was honestly shocked to see you like this. He knew how much Ajax meant to you but didn’t know how much you kept bottled inside of you.

“Three, Two..”

“His location is in there! In an encrypted file!”Ramos cried out, pointing to the laptop that had landed on the floor next to the desk. “See, that wasn’t hard, now was it?”You said, taking your two fingers under his chin to make him look at you before the TV flickered on.

“I knew you and your little mouse would follow the bread crumbs”

You gritted your teeth as you met Rorke’s gaze from the screen. “Hi Y/L/N, how you doing?”He said, a smirk spreading across his face. You were about to answer back but were interrupted by Hesh. “You killed their friend and tried to kill my father you piece of shit!” “Hesh!”Keegan said, warning him not to continue. “The sons of Elias Walker. Boys sent to do a man's work.” Rorke said. You stood up straight, trying to keep yourself composed, not wanting to let your own tongue slip. “Where are you, Rorke?”You said, Keegan’s hand falling on your hip, offering you a slight amount of comfort. “Where I am doesn't matter. What matters is a decade ago Elias left me to die in this city… And from this night forward Elias lives with the knowledge he sent his own sons to their death.” Rorke spoke before motioning to cut the feed. You felt the ground shake from underneath you. This building was going down.

You grabbed Keegan’s hand before yelling at Logan and Hesh to move their asses, racing down the stairs as you raced the clock to make it out alive. “Scarecrow, mission compromised, we’re attempting-Ugh! To make an aerial exfil from the 52nd floor!”You yelled into your radio, taking command from here on out. “We need windows!”You stopped and yelled, Keegan’s eyes locked onto yours. “You know how much I love seeing you take charge?” He said, before being met with a small smack from your hand. “Get ahold of yourself for two seconds, you can gush over me after we reach the exfil site now come on!” You said, racing after Hesh and Logan; who unlike Keegan apparently, wanted to live. You and Keegan rushed out before being shot to the floor, the building’s support giving out and tipping the building sideways.

“Prep your chutes! We’re going down!” Keegan shouted. You felt your boots crack into a piece of pavement. You felt the building lean to the point that you started to fall. In fact, you felt yourself heading straight for the window. You crossed your arms across your face as you all crashed into the windows. You opened your eyes to see the build right on top of you. You opened the parachute with the boys and started to head to your exit point. “Scarecrow, we're airborne! En route to rally point echo. Good work you three. Now let's get the hell out of here..” Keegan said. You watched him look back at you and hold up the number four; your special channel, the first one you two ever communicated on.

You flipped your radio channel to four. “Yes, darling?”You said, your voice softening. “You were…amazing back there. There’s no way Elias won’t give you your mask after that” He gushed. You could feel your cheeks heating up at that comment. He always told you that, no matter what you did, but this time you felt like it could actually happen. “Honestly, If he doesn’t give you one, your getting mine,” He said. “Keegan..”You said. “Yes?”

“I love you a lot, you know that right?” “Yes..I do, but you know I love you more”. That one comment made both of you smile so big your cheeks hurt.

[madeintheniamh]

vocal rest.

stmf one shot #20.

for #20 i wanted something short(ish) and sweet. and we all know harry is a pain in the arse when he's unwell (in the best way possible), and this doesn't change when he becomes a daddy xx also can't believe we are already at chapter 20. this is madness. thank you all for the support and love <3

You found Harry huddled up on the sofa, swamped in blankets, a solemn expression on his face as his eyes were beginning to flutter closed. His green pools of light widened as you entered the room, a cup of soup in hand, and he began to smile slightly, although the corner of his lips were still downturned. He hadn’t been happy at all when the Doctor had told him he needed to go on vocal rest- in fact, he had actually become rather annoyed, particularly when you had forced him to sit downstairs and stuck an old rom-com in the DVD player for him to watch. He licked his lips slightly as he surveyed what was in your hands, holding out his hands as though in prayer.

“I made you your favourite, Mr Styles,” You chuckled, swiping his brown locks which were falling into his eyes from his forehead, before planting your lips there. “Carrot soup, just the way you like it,”

“T-t-thank you,” He tried to mutter, as you pressed your index finger to his lips.

“Hey, no talking, Mister,” You scolded playfully. “Doctor’s orders,”

He sighed, before blowing on the spoon and putting it in his mouth slowly, staring deep into your eyes as he did.

“You like it?” You smiled, and he nodded in response. You heard a scurry of muffled giggles in the room next-door. “I think you might have some visitors, too,”

You had told the girls to be careful with him, because he wasn’t feeling too well, and needed to rest his voice before his next show. But naturally, as six and four year olds, they weren’t very good at listening, and were dying to see Harry. They nearly knocked you over and trampled on top of you as you opened the door, rushing towards the centre of the living room to see him.

“Remember girls, Daddy’s throat still isn’t feeling well!” You warned them again, but there was no chance that they were listening, Harry beginning to scoop both of them into his arms. “Careful!”

“Daddy, I missed you, I missed you, I missed you,” Lottie giggled, ruffling his hair with her tiny hand. Harry smiled back at her, pulling her closer to pepper a kiss to her cheek. Tilly seemed much more concerned about her Dad, and was surveying the situation around her, taking note of the bandage that had been taped to his hand where an IV full of vitamins had been a couple of hours before, and feeling the warmth of his chest with her fingers. She looked up at him again, her eyes beginning to turn glossy.

“You okay baby?” Harry mouthed, trying to avoid forming the words with his throat.

“Daddy,” She sniffed, pressing her cheek up to his. “You look poorly, Daddy,”

“I’m fine, baby,” Harry whispered hoarsely, swiping a tear that had dribbled down her cheek away.

“Daddy’s voice is just tired, from where he has been singing, dolly,” You smiled at her, as her tiny frame shook slightly. “He’ll be better soon,”

“I don’t want Daddy to be poorly,” She began to cry, as Harry pulled her into his chest. Harry kissed her forehead, before pressing his lips to her ear.

“I love you,” He breathed sharply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as you watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, Tilly beginning to become relaxed by the repetitive movement of his hand stroking the side of her cheek, the same way that he always did when she was tiny.

When Harry hadn’t been looking, Lottie had snuck up behind him.

“Boo!” She giggled, as Harry gasped slightly and put his hands up in mock horror. “I got you, Daddy!”

Harry pressed his lips together before nodding and sticking his tongue out at her.

“You got me, baby,” he mouthed, laughing slightly.

“I can talk for you, Daddy,” She cackled, running out of the room to fetch Anne from the kitchen, who had been staying over in one of the spare bedrooms to help you watch the girls when Harry wasn’t feeling up to it. “Nanny, Harry wants a cup of tea!”

“Harry!” You and Anne both cackled, as Anne rushed into the living room with an energetic Lottie tugging at her arm, looking smug with herself for using her Daddy’s proper name. Harry stared at her in disbelief, mouth wide open, lips twisted upwards in a smile.

“Who taught you that, Lottie Anne!” You gasped.

“That’s Daddy’s real name,” She giggled, as she walked back over to Harry and pressed her lips to his nose. “Harry,”

“I’m Daddy to you!” He mouthed.

“Harry!” She giggled, jumping up and down on top of his thighs. “Harry!”

“You know she’s going to call you that for ages now, don’t you?” Anne chuckled, but Harry couldn’t argue, as he wrestled Lottie towards him and attacked her with a round of tickles.

“Daddy!” She flailed around in his arms, bursting into a roar of laughter. “Daddy! Stop!”

“Mmmmhmm,” he concluded after he had finally tired her out, finally setting her down beside him, Tilly now fast asleep in his other arm. You watched all three of them for a while, as Harry and Lottie’s green eyes finally drooped closed. You never quite understood how you had been so blessed.

------

I ALSO DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW I HAVE BEEN SO BLESSED. chapter 20 everyone! thank you for all the support on this series i can't believe it has been 5 months already. i began this series in february when i was trying to process the fact that i was about to drop out of uni. so much has changed in that time and this series has grown with me and will only grown further. thank you to the bestie becca as always for helping me come up with these concepts and listening to me spout thoughts and ideas. lottie and tilly have grown into proper people over the last few months and i hope you're as excited as i am to continue to watch them grow. love you all and...

as always if you enjoyed this one shot i have linked the masterlist for the whole series here! i love writing using your prompts so please feel free to submit any ideas to my inbox. have a great week everyone ALL THE LOVE <3333

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Aesthetic vs Function

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )     “Sir, I am getting several urgent dispatches from the loading area.”

Captain Morris looked up from his data pad at his communications officer.

“Is something wrong?” he asked as he stood up and walked over to their terminal station on the bridge. The officer held his hand to his headset, listening to the messages before answering his captain.

“It appears several of the Corvo soldiers are refusing to relinquish their weapons. Security got involved and the Corvo resisted; two arms men were injured.”

This perked Morris’s interest, and not in a good way. The Corvo were allies in the war effort and he had heard of their abnormal customs from other captains so he had been prepared to give them some leeway while they traveled on his ship, but it was another matter entirely when his crew were harmed.

“Mr. Dover,” Morris called out, “a word if you would.”

From the opposite side of the bridge the master-at-arms Tristan Dover strode over to his captain. He was not a tall man, but wide in frame. His broad muscled shoulders meant that in some instances aboard the ship he needed to turn himself to be able to pass through doorways.

Tristan stood at attention and saluted Morris who returned the salute in kind.

“Are you aware of the situation in loading bay…”

 The captain turned to his communications officer who quickly understood the meaning and spoke “Loading Bay 4.”

“Thank you, “the captain replied before continuing, “yes, are you aware of the situation in loading bay 4?”

“I am sir.” Travis replied crisply. “My security details passed the word along to me just now.”

“Any further details?” the captain inquired.

Travis crossed his arms. “I was told that the Corvo refused to relinquish their weapons upon entering the loading bay. When the matter was pressed and the security detail made to enforce the issue the Corvo drew their weapons and attacked them.”

“Casualties?”

Travis shook his head. “Minor wounds only.”

The captain nodded. He paced back and forth between the terminals, stopping to read strands of data or make a quick check with the monitoring officer, then returned back and pointed at the communication officer.

“Tell the security details to hold the Corvo in the loading bay until Mr. Dover arrives.”

The officer nodded and relayed the order over the com while Morris leaned in close to Travis.

“Remind our guests that this is my ship, and while they are on my ship they will follow my rules and that injuring my crew is not to be tolerated.”

Morris leaned back and was about to leave when he stopped himself and leaned back in. “I don’t mind a dirty decking, so long as it is not cluttered.”

Travis nodded at his captain and left the bridge; cracking his knuckles and flashing a smile. -----------------

It took about thirty minutes for Travis to make it to Loading Bay 4. He needed to make a quick stop at the armory to grab a few things. When he arrived he found at least a dozen security officers standing in a line separating the Corvo from the rest of the loading bay. The deck crew still went about their duties save for the occasional glance over at the commotion.

The Corvo were easy to pick out from behind the wall of security as despite having a humanoid form stood roughly seven feet tall on average. They were adorned in a mixture of combat armor and religious robes.

As Travis approached the security officers stepped aside to make a path for him. When he got to the front one of saluted.

“Good to see you sir.” They replied crisply. Travis grunted in response and stepped forward to the Corvo’s.

“I understand there has been an incident here and you have attacked our crew.” Travis began with a calm yet authoritative voice. “I am here by order of the captain to remind you that while we are allies you will follow the rules of this ship while you are onboard.”

One of the Corvo stepped forward and looked down at Travis. His shoulder guard was decorated with three blue stripes signifying that he was the leader; or at least that’s what Travis thought it meant. The only thing he generally cared about in briefings when dealing with aliens were ordinance and cultural triggers for violence.

“I am Mak’t, and I would apologize for this misunderstanding.”

He reached down and began pulling out what appeared to be a sword from a sheath. The security officers made to raise their weapons but Travis forestalled them with a wave.

“These, “ Mak’t began as he pulled the sword free, “are our Okamban blades, sacred to our people.”

As he fully withdrew the blade it burst into bright blue flames as if the very air ignited it on contact.

“It is said that so long as these blades burn the spirit of our ancestors continue to watch over us on the battlefield; and so we could not surrender them as your officers asked.”

Travis watched the flame flicker brightly and whistled in wonder. “A fancier blade I have not seen,” Travis admitted, “but I find it rather odd in this age to bring a sword to a neutron cannon fight.”

Mak’t sheathed his sword once more while shaking his head.

“Forgive me for saying, but the weapons of your people and of our enemies are inferior to our blades.” He rested a hand on the hilt and looked down at Travis, matching his cold gaze with his own. “We have been trained to block their attacks on the battlefield rendering them useless before us.”

Some of the security officers behind Travis rustled at that remark but he paid them no mind.

“Seems we’re at a bit of an impasse here then, friend.” Travis admitted. “Luckily for you the Captain has given me the authority to resolve this situation.”

He pointed to the collection of warriors standing behind Mak’t. “If you and two of your warriors can land a single blow on me with your blades then you can keep them while onboard, but if I win you will surrender them without hesitation and spend the remainder of this journey in the brig for the assault you carried out.”

Mak’t looked puzzled at this challenge. “Why would you face three of us alone?”

Travis smiled. “Thought I’d give you a fighting chance,” he said mockingly as the Corvo warriors growled in anger, “seeing that your disadvantage with weaponry is so staggering.”

Saying nothing at first, Mak’t just looked down at the tiny human before him before nodding in agreement. He made a soft clicking sound and two other Corvo warriors stepped forward, each drawing their blades while the human security officers stepped back to create a ring like circle around the parties.

“So, we’ll go on the count of three then.” Travis announced. His hands casually cradled a rifle between them as he watched the three Corvo warriors prepare themselves. Each took a different stance with the light of their flaming swords casting dozens of differing shadows about them.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

The Corvo warriors to either side of Mak’t lunged forward ready to bring down their flaming swords in an instant; screaming in their alien language as they got within three feet of Travis before he brought up his own rifle.

In a flash Travis brought up his rifle and fired at the closest warrior. The sudden attack broke the warriors forward momentum as they brought their weapon up to block the attack only to find that rather than an energy blast they were being pelted with dozens of tiny rocks.

The flaming sword blocked some of them but far too many simply went around the sword and embedded themselves into the alien’s skin causing them to scream out in pain and fall to the ground.

From the corner of his eye Travis saw a blur of motion and side stepped just in time to avoid the downward swing of the second warrior. The blade carved into the decking with a loud hissing sound before the warrior pivoted and brought the blade up for a slash at Travis’s midriff.

Pulling a knife free that had been strapped to his leg he casually flung it into the blade rather than around it. The second warrior was confused until they felt the burning hot sting of molten metal the knife had been reduced to shower his body. The armor he wore protected some of their frame but since they were not wearing a helmet a glob of red hot metal landed on the alien’s cheek giving off a stench of burning flesh.

Surprisingly the warrior rallied themselves than give into the pain only for Travis to bring up his rifle and fire another scatter shot center mass sending them balling over in pain. Travis couldn’t see but given the goop now dotted around the floor he wagered some of the rock salt just punctured one of their eyes.

With the two companions dealt with Travis turned his attention to Mak’t who had not engaged like the others when the fight began.

“You fight without honor.” Mak’t announced. “To use such trickery against true warriors is the act of a coward.”

“If I recall you said you were trained to defeat modern weapons,” Travis countered, standing between the downed Corvo warriors, “that my attacks would be rendered useless by your weapons.”

 He unceremoniously kicked one of them hard in the back drawing the ire of Mak’t as he took up a stance for the first time.

“I even gave you a three on one advantage and you still say I am being unfair.”

“Your tricks will not work on me.” Mak’t declared.

Travis didn’t even bother to respond as he casually pulled a canister from a harness across his chest and threw it directly at Mak’t’s feet. Mak’t jumped backwards expecting further trickery rather than attempting to deflect it. To his surprise the canister did indeed not explode but rather began shooting out large volumes of a thick white gas.

The gas began to billow out more and more until the gathered ring of spectators was engulfed by it. Mak’t looked up from the canister just in time to see Travis donning a strange mask over his eyes and mouth.

It was only then that Mak’t heard coughing and gasping from his fellow Corvo warriors behind him and realized the gas must be some form of airborne weapon. He tightly clenched his mouth shut and carefully stepped forward to meet Travis in final combat. His breathing control would allow him at least ten minutes before he needed to inhale again giving him more than enou-

Mak’t made it barely three steps before his eyes began burning. They felt as if hot daggers were being shoved into them and twisted by the most merciless tormentor. This sudden influx of pain broke Mak’t’s concentration and he gasped out for air. No sooner had he taken his first breath did his lungs begin to share the burning sensation his eyes did, forcing the warrior to his knees as his hands feebly wiped his eyes again and again.

Through the blurry sight left to him he watched as Travis walked through the white cloud and stood over him. The human looked down at him and Mak’t could only imagine the look of smug satisfaction he must have held to see him brought so low.

Instead of gloating or boasting about how their weapons weren’t as inferior as Mak’t had declared, he brought down his fist as hard as he could against the alien’s face sending him straight to the floor.

“I think we count this as my win, yeah?” Travis asked the now unconscious Mak’t. He waved over the rest of the security officers who had likewise donned gas masks of their own and began the process of collecting the decorative swords from their guests before ushering them down to the med bay and finally their new home in the brig.