#Paranoid my beloved <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oh-no-its-bird · 2 months ago

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Getting deep into the aus in my head rn. Ok so you know that genre of arranged marriage webtoons/novels that's like, "the crazy princess is forced to marry the brave knight by the king, who wants to punish the knight for some reason" and then the princess turns out to either not be crazy or to be amping up the crazy on purpose, probably in order to survive some dark shit happening in the palace?

Ok so like. That. Now make it obkk.

(I'm tempted to say mdtb but obkk just fit better, I think. But also like, shit make it mdtb too, I love this trope)

Now here's the thing; I think there's a super fun argument to be made on both sides for who gets what role.

Crazy prince Obito could totally play into his Tobi persona, which would just be cool symmetry. But also knight Obito could be so cool, just objectively. And it could be interesting to play with a crazy prince Kakashi who like, saw his whole family murdered in front of him and then played up the crazy act to avoid becoming next on the chopping block.

Im going to settle with a prince Obito, so now please buckle up for todays au:

"Crazy" prince Obito who isn't quite as crazy as he seems being forcefully married to war hero general Kakashi of the Hatake dukedom in order to humiliate the Hatake's,,

(this one is nearly 4k words, so we're putting a cut on it)

SO! Starting from the top!

The Hatake dukedom is basically the only power to rival our beloved evil king Madara's throne. Other than them, Madara is pretty much untouchable, so his paranoid ass tries to keep a pretty firm eye and thumb on them. Gotta make sure they remember to stay the hell in line, you know?

So Kakashi is ordered to go to war pretty young, possibly in an attempt to get the young heir killed and cut off the Hatake's at the knees. Only for some years later, Kakashi to pretty much singlehandedly win that war and return this super big war hero. Which is a big problem for Madara, because now the Hatake's have even more political capital. And again, his paranoid ass does not like the possibility of there being someone to rival him in power.

As it is, there are only 3 (living, conscious) Uchiha left.

Madara, who is king.

Obito, a bastard nephew of Madara, who is absolutely fucking insane and only ever let out a tight leash when his insanity amuses Madara. He's only lived this long because his stupidity amuses Madara sometimes, and because he's very clearly no threat to him

And Sasuke, Madara's.... technical spare, who is only allowed to live because of his resemblance to Izuna.

(And somewhere deep in the castle, there sleeps on one Uchiha Izuna, trapped in some sort of coma Madara can not wake him from)

All the other Uchiha were killed (we will return to this) including Itachi and Shisui

(Incidentally, among Kakashi's loyal companions he collected during his years at war, there are two dark haired boys who are so careful to hide their faces when in public. I'm sure there's no relation there.)

So! Kakashi returns from war and Madara is like 'shit, I need to stop this train before it gets too far off the tracks' and invites Kakashi to the palace to "reward" him for his service.

Only when Kakashi gets there, the "reward" he's given is that Madara has arranged a spouse for him— his famously insane bastard nephew.

Getting into the politics of this: Giving him Obito humiliates him in public + gives him a ticking time bomb for a wife + reminds him of his place + gets rid of Obito too, who Madara is probably sick of seeing at this point.

Plus if we like, lean into period typical homophobia or whatever, Madara giving him a husband instead of a wife has implications too. Madara says you will NOT procreate, the Hatake house will NOT have a heir, and if they do then they'll automatically be a bastard who will never have a mother.

Take this crazy guy as ur wife lmao get fucked have fun <3

He's ending the Hatake's and Obito's bloodline in one move, 2 birds with one stone!! He's so smug about this solution he's worked out.

Kakashi, obviously yk, is super offended and panicked and also doesn't even want to get married, especially not to the goddamn famously insane prince, but he cant say no to the king! So he's kind of just forced to bow his head and grit his teeth and say thanks as Madara is all smug and happy on his throne saying some shit about he can't wait for the wedding.

So yk, Kakashi brings Obito home and it's this whole fucking spectacle because Obito is freaking the hell out and acting like a total lunatic

The whole rug pool is that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting. To be clear, Obito does have just a whole list of mental issues, and is genuinely incredibly unstable— he's just also playing it way, way up in order to protect himself from being looked at too hard by Madara.

And obviously, yk, he's suddenly thrown at Kakashi with pretty much no warning for either of them, and he doesn't know who the fuck Kakashi is, other than his reputation for being at war for years now. So he's gonna really crank up the crazy factor because it's the only way he knows how to keep himself safe— at least until he's gotten a better handle of Kakashi what the hell he's all about

Anyways just, Kakashi and his crazy wife Obito,,

Kakashi ofc eventually sniffs out that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting, and Obito is able to act a little more genuine to what he's really like.

Meanwhile we also get lots of Sakumo content, who is around btw and acting Duke Hatake. Also Rin is around, probably as Kakashi's second in command. We also get team ro, who Kakashi collected while he was at war and act as his lill team and trusted confidants

I want to see Obito and Sakumo in particular interacting tbh.

The differences between Madara as Obito's hella abusive shitty uncle who would purposefully provoke and feed into his fits, and his new so much kinder father in law who takes even his best attempts of causing a scene and making a fool of himself with a slow blink and a calm demeanor,,,,,, ough,,

Obito experiences fatherly love for the first time in his life and promptly has several crisis's about it

Now! Rewinding a bit to focus back on Madara / Uchiha situations ->

Madara doesn't really have an official heir. Or he does, but it's Izuna. Who, if you remember, is in that coma.

Madara is deep in denial about the fact that his brother is NOT going to wake up. Get over it Madara, it's been 10 fucking years !!!

Like I mentioned before, Sasuke only got to survive because he looks so much like Izuna. Madara probably straight up calls him Izuna and makes him dress and act like his younger brother sometimes when he's in his worst mental states (it flip flops a lot)

Sasuke can't be around Madara when he drinks bc Madara mistakes him for Izuna and starts alternatively yelling at him for daring to leave him and crying messily all over him

Sasuke is technically heir, but not really. Madara will only ever refer to him as the spare— because obviously, Izuna is going to wake up some day. Obviously. Any day now.

Now obviously, Sasuke already has a big brother! Which Madara does not like. How is he supposed to project all his issues onto Sasuke as a younger brother if Sasuke already has an elder brother?

So like, Madara gets rid of Itachi because he doesn't want Sasuke to have a big brother figure in his life other than him, bc yk, Sasuke is his Izuna shaped stress toy to cope with the loss of his own brother.

Madara sends Itachi to the front lines of the war at like 13 to have him killed. But then Kakashi saves him (team Ro noises,,)

Itachi quietly disappears from the playing field and is written off w the countless unnamed dead, and Madara is satisfied. Meanwhile, a masked assassin joins Kakashi's inner circle,,

(In the castle, in the middle of his grief, an 8 year old Sasuke is told he can address Madara as elder brother)

"How did Izuna even fall into that coma?", I hear you asking. Well!

I am now sliding to u a doctor/mage/saint Tobirama who is somehow the reason Izuna is in his coma (maybe on purpose, maybe by accident)

But Madara can't kill him bc hes like. The best doctor he has. And he needs him to keep Izuna alive in his coma.

"Damn, well how did Tobirama get to be working for Madara?" I now hear you asking

Well! x2, We will now rewind even further, to Madara's childhood ->

Starting it off with: is it even a naruto au without a dash of "childhood friends gone wrong?"

Basically, when Madara was a kid, he got to be close friends with Hashirama. Only for Hashirama to be unwittingly used as a tool by his father, for Butsama to try and overthrow the king of the time, Tajima.

A ploy that nearly worked, Butsama managing to kill Tajima + all of Madara and Izuna's other siblings + most of the other Uchiha right in front of the boys.

At the last second, Madara, with the help of the family's advisor, Zetsu, managed to kill Tajima and divert his plans. But now most of the Uchiha were dead and they had a crisis on their hands.

Madara is put on the throne at like, 13 years old, with only Zetsu to really rely on because everyone else is fucking dead, defected, or suspicious as hell. (Which is why, even decades later, he remains so consistently paranoid of anyone who might have the power to rival the throne; ie, the Hatake)

Anyways. Boy king Madara with his spooky advisor Zetsu at his side.

Zetsu is that trope of a a super obviously creepy and evil royal advisors, you guys know the trope. He is hunched behind Madara's throne whispering into his ear

"Kill them sire,,, they disrespect you,,,"

He like helped raise Madara when he was a young so Madara is DEEP in his pockets. After all, after the Uchiha were nearly overthrown, he was the only adult figure Madara had to depend on.

(To be clear, Madara himself is a shitty person. Zetsu is his own brand of spooky evil guy, and yeah he's a terrible influence on Madara, but Madara has made his own shitty evil choices in this too.)

After everything settled down, Madara had to decide what the hell to do with the remaining Senju— including Hashirama and Tobirama, who were also now among the only survivors of their clan.

Hashirama never meant to betray Madara, but he still did, and for that Madara can bear to look at him or he'll begin to feel sick.

Madara ends up being unable to kill his old best friend (even as Zetsu urges him to do it), and instead just sends him off to some temple deep on the edge of the kingdom, under heavy guard, basically banished from everywhere else in the kingdom. Hashirama goes quietly.

Tobirama, however, he keeps. Forced to serve in the palace as a sort of doctor.

Put him in some sort of magic collar that means he can't disobey a member of Uchiha royalty or smthn fun and fucked up like that, it could be fun. Collar that man !!!!!

Its enchanted w an order like, "you must follow every order given to you by the king" and then later down the line (when Madara is inevitably overthrown) Madara tries to order Tobirama to do smthn, Tobirama just looks at him coldly and goes "you are king no more."

I think whether Tobirama put Izuna in a coma or not would be left intentionally vague. We never know. Not even I know.

Maybe it was an accident, and Madara can only assume the worst because of who his father was and his clear hatred of the Uchiha.

Or maybe it was on purpose, his intrusive thoughts finally winning out. He certainly doesn't seem to have much sympathy or regret for the fact Izuna's been asleep for a decade now

Now, pointing back at Zetsu and Madara

Zetsu is sort of just a generic shadowy advisor for Madara in this. He's running the kingdom behind Madara's shoulder, he just kinda gets to do whatever and thrives bc of it. Zetsu living his best life!!!

Everyone is suffering in some way EXCEPT for Zetsu, who is having a wonderful time

So like. Madara seeming convinced he'll never die. Bc Zetsu has been whispering in his ear ab ideas of eternal life and necromancy, telling him he can rule forever and use this newfound power to wake Izuna. (Which is also ofc why he has no real heir and doesn't seem too worried about it)

(Meanwhile in the bg Tobirama is being used for his research. He's… happy about this, actually. He's thriving, just a little bit. Madara lets him play with dead bodies. And yeah, it sucks he has to obey the bastards commands, he's given p much unlimited funds and just kinda makes cool taboo shit as he researches immortality. He still bitches ab it tho.

Maybe in the end, he'll drag Madara out from the dungeons by the scruff like hes a wet cat and says smthn vague ab how hes going to be calling the shots from now on, and they disappear into the night)

So anyways. Inhuman somehow vaguely immortal Zetsu— who's been running out on his immortality juice.

Maybe we can play w Kaguya and the Hatake clans involvement? Zetsu gets his power from siphoning off of Kaguya, but the Hatake's of these past few generations have been worshipping her too, so she no longer has eyes only for Zetsu— meaning he no longer gets as much power from her.

Which is also why he's pushing Madara to hit the Hatake's w the ban hammer, because he wants them out of the way so Kaguya will look his way again.

(Or at the very least, Tobirama can hurry up and inventory human immortality already so Zetsu can try out a new method)

If you wanna get extra fucky with it, we can go with a 'son of Kaguya' Kakashi au, and throw in even more fucked up moon goddess family drama. Kakashi has no idea he's even related to the moon goddess, but Zetsu is losing his fucking mind because he's no longer his mothers number one special little boy anymore

What even is an obkk au without heaps of family drama in all directions?

Ok so, rewinding back to where we were, with newly wed Obito and Kakashi ->

So, Kakashi has been at war for some years now and has a lot of shit to do and catch up on now that he's back. Including catching back up with his dad, who he hasn't been able to see for any longer than a week tops in years. Very emotional! Very fun! Madara is a bastard for keeping them apart

But specifically tho. Kakashi helping Itachi to reunite with Sasuke.

I mentioned before that Kakashi collected team ro while he was out at war, and each of them probably has some sort of mini quest to fulfil,,

Senju bastard Tenzo who maybe grew up in the same church Hashirama was banished to, but was eventually sent away by Hashirama who couldn't bear to see him live the same isolated life as him (and maybe feared that Tenzo would be killed if Madara heard there was a new mokuton user)

Itachi and Shisui, Itachi being sent away to die and Shisui being an Uchiha bastard who either Madara thought he managed to kill (but escaped the massacre of his own remaining family Madara would eventually pull) or who got sent away with itachi to die at war. And just them wanting to reunite with Sasuke, their only remaining family left, who they worry for every day that he's left alone with Madara.

Im thinking tho. Sasuke eventually somehow escaping on his own (before team ro can even try to sae him) and managing to get to the Hatake dukedom,,,, Kakashi and Obito end up basically adopting him, pass it on

Super emotional Sasuke and Itachi reunion my beloved,,, I want Sakumo to try and dad them both, it'd be fun. Sakumo is just dad-ing everyone in this au, he's so father shaped

Sasuke spending so many years alone w only Madara as his family and maybe a weirdly fucked up and distant uncle-ish energy Tobirama who he regularly sees Madara going out of his way to make his life miserable.

But also like, obviously: Sakura and Naruto. I bet those two helped him escape tbh

Uhh knights in training Naruto and Sakura who are so determined to protect their prince Sasuke (even as Sasuke tells them he doesnt need his protection)

What if Sakura is training under Tobirama in place of Tsunade? Could be fun, idk.

Where is Tsunade in this, is she dead? Was she ever born? Did Madara steal her from Hashirama to make her work in the castle? Could be fun,, on that note too, Orochimaru might be somewhere around here, working with Tobirama to unlock immortality for Zetsu/Madara (*cough* himself *cough*)

Anyways, knights Sakura and Naruto who enter the palace so starry eyed for their beloved king Madara and prince Sasuke,,, only to slowly realize this is NOT the fluffy sparkly fairytale they thought this was going to be.

Im thinking narusasusaku energy where Sakura and Naruto are being silly and competing for their beloved, closed off ice prince's attention, alternating between fighting each other for Sasuke to look at them and teaming up to get rid of potential rivals

Meanwhile Sasuke is looking on at these fucking idiots blatant attempt to throw themselves at him in that way that only kids can, alternating between being annoyed and exasperated and trying to hide how amused he is. They are one of the only bright spots in his life ,,,

Madara doesn't even really have a reason to fuck Sasuke over w them tbh, honestly he might even encourage it just bc they're knights in training and he wants his spare to be well protected (against everyone but him lmao)

Madara is shitty but Sasuke is in this really weird position where he's probably the safest from him. Beccause, you know, Izuna. There's a lot of emotional abuse there and incredibly unhealthy dependency from Madara's end, projecting Izuna onto Sasuke. But for the most part, Madara dotes on him. Because, again, Izuna. Though there's also probably a certain amount of genuine fondness Madara has grown for him

He only really gets violent if it looks like someone will try and take Sasuke away from him (particularly in a familial way, which is what got Itachi (almost) killed)

Naruto and Sakura are deemed safe by Madara because they too are under his control, and every prince does need a good knight.

He might even think their not so well hidden crushes would be good for him, because that way he can count on them to ruin any of Sasuke's future romantic prospects for him. And if Sasuke ends up getting with his knights, he will never have a reason to leave the castle, even once he's an adult. A win win for Madara!

Madara approaching Sakura and Naruto both, telling them he thinks theyre just soooo good at being knights and, obviously you know, as their king he will hope they give him lots of updates about Sasuke.

Both Sakura and Naruto are super starry eyed and all for it at first, but Sakura quickly realizes that Madara is asking them to spy on Sasuke for him.

Sasuke himself is not surprised and probable expects it. This is what Madara has done with every single other person that he's ever looked at longer than 3 seconds.

There is a reason Sasuke has no friends, and it's not just because he doesn't want any. That one time when he was 9 and he told his playmate that he missed his big brother and hoped he would come back soon, only for Madara to later drag him out of bed in the middle of the night, scream at him and threaten to send him to die on the front lines with his brother if he really wanted to be with him so bad— well, that kind of gave him trust issues. Understandably.

Thinking also that over the years, while Kakashi was at war, Madara was keeping Sakumo from going to see his son by claiming he needed him close to the palace. So, like, Sakumo interacting with Sasuke on and off over the years,,, just this occasional figure of stability Sasuke is never supposed to talk to for too long,, this man he knows Madara is scared of, who feels so warm to him.

And Sakumo, missing Kakashi so much, interacting with Sasuke thinking about how 'my son was this small, when your uncle sent him to die' and nearly crying about it later.

Anyways just sasusakunaru,,, prince sasuke and his two knights who enter the castle at like 12, starry eyed and fulled of hope— but slowly becoming disillusioned as they realize what kind of life Sasuke is really living.

Them going from swearing to protect their prince with all the strength and surety of a couple of hopeful kids with big dreams— to really, genuinely meaning it, and eventually helping him escape from Madara's hands.

And then ofc them fleeing to the Hatake dukedom, where Sakumo and Kakashi give him sanctuary and he gets to see Itachi again. Who, by the way, he thought was dead and had NO idea was here. Yayy!

Anyways!

Endgame of Kakashi and Obito overthrowing Madara and tossing him into the dungeons. Tobirama ends up dragging Madara out of the dungeons and they disappear into the night together, never to be seen again. (with the implications of a sudden very sharp shift in power between them something to think about off screen)

Sasuke becomes king bc neither Kakashi or Obito wants the throne, and rules with his trusty knights (and partners) Naruto and Sakura.

Obito is happy being a trophy wife for Kakashi, this is actually his ideal ending (after the horror and stress of adjusting to this new unknown life)

Sakumo meanwhile gets to be godfather of the first sasusakunaru kids and swears to protect the Uchiha family for as long as he can

The end, or something

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renzanix · 3 months ago

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Yippeeeee here's the first batch of voice designs! Notes and explanations under the cut

Hero: The main guy himself! As LQ's constant inner conscience, I wanted him to look basically identical to him. The only significant difference is the silly little hair (feather?) swirl on his head, because @/ justcherryqwq's animatics were the first voice designs I ever saw and Hero just looks wrong to me without it now.

Smitten: Hearts hearts hearts hearts hearts- A bit on the nose maybe but he would most likely approve. I tried to make his body shape reminiscent of disney princes. Definitely the biggest voice. Very fluffy and soft to best keep his Princess warm :3

Hunted: One of the littlest guys to convey how small he feels compared to his Princesses (Beast and Den). Scrangly fellow covered in scratches and bite marks. His plumicorns are made to look more like animal ears and his cheek fluff like whiskers. He has the same glowy eyes as Beast does. Little teeths.

Paranoid: My beloved lanky guy. I adore this silly so much, he was one of the first voices I ever met. His plumicorns, wings and feathers in general are all quite sparse and messy from how much he stress-plucks. I wanted his frame to look like a toddler could kick him over. He needs sleep. I'm definitely not the first person to design him with multiple eyes (both as a reference to his route and as a way for him to keep watch better) but I'm not sure who originally came up with it.

And some more headcanons I have for them!

-When Hero gets nervous or morally-conflicted about what they're doing, he covers his face with his wings. In PatD it seemed to be LQ's default way of standing but I think it really suited Hero's reluctance with the situation.

-Whenever you betray the Princess in his routes, Smitten's eyes become literally heartbroken and he gets mascara tracks similar to the Princess in HEA just to make it extra dramatic. I wanted to design a heart shaped chest scar for when he rips open your chest in the Damsel route, but it's not like he's ever with us again after that.

-I fucking love the Den route where Hunted goes feral. Yeesss my silly go feel powerful for once! Obviously an increased amount of scars, cat slit eyes and big ol' teeth.

-Paranoid's pupils can change heavily based on what's happening. I like to imagine that when he's doing the whole "Heart, lungs, liver, nerves-" thing, that his eyes are closed in concentration, and the moments he's interrupted they're startled opened with frantic heartlines. He has less eyes opened when he's calmer, and more eyes opened when he's panicking the fuck out. Very rarely does he have the usual two eyes only.

Anyways I *have* been browsing other people's voice designs for weeks now, so if there's any design elements that look similar to anyone else's, I probably subconciously yoinked it from them. Please feel free to let me know if I copied something so heavily that it deserves a credit, because I really cannot understate just how many voice designs I've been going through and have lost track of.

#slay the princess #stp #voice of the hero #voice of the smitten #voice of the hunted #voice of the paranoid #voice designs #fanart

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explorevenus · 9 months ago

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dessert before dinner ♡ gale dekarios x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors DNI or i will call the cops and also ur mom

word count - 4.3k

description - domestic life with you has turned gale into a big softie, in more ways than one-- he's already got the dad bod, why wait for the baby to match?

aka dad bod malewife gale wants to knock u up :3

tags/warnings - dad bod gale w mild self esteem issues at the beginning but he gets over it, technically bg3 spoilers ig (takes place post-game), food mentions, praise, p in v, creampie, breeding kink but fluffy cus gale is sappy, inappropriate use of the Weave, inappropriate use of mage hand

a/n - this piece was commissioned by my LOVELY LOVELY SWEET BABY ANGEL @d10nyx WHO DESERVES EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD AND MORE AND IS SUCH A FUCKIN SAINT FOR BEING SO PATIENT FOR THIS ;n; pls go check out her work i adore her so bad

also just as a note b4 i get One Billion Asks about it for posting this-- i am not abandoning 'something permanent' nor am i abandoning writing for resident evil just bc i am posting one singular bg3 fic !!!!!!!!!! might seem obvious but i just wanted to get ahead of it bc i'm paranoid and have seen it happen to other ppl ;~;

my masterlist ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Life post-Netherbrain softened Gale Dekarios in many ways.

Some of the most obvious ways included the relief of tension that came with no longer bearing the weight of the world on his back, ridding himself of the curse that plagued so many of his living years, and finally being able to settle down back home in Waterdeep.

But if you asked Gale, the one thing that softened him the most was you. You, you, you. Ever since the moment you tugged him out of that collapsing portal, everything Gale did was for you, and by the looks of it, that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.

Stability was something Gale hadn’t had in a long time, and while he wouldn’t exactly call running around Faerun fighting deities and monsters and people alike ‘stability,’ he could at the very least find that stability in you. Every battle, every brutal journey through the swamp or the Astral Plane or the wreckage of Baldur’s Gate, you were right there with him.

And now you were home.

Home had long since become anywhere with you, of course, but now you were really home, back in Waterdeep with Gale and his family and his beloved Tara, and what’s more, you had his last name. You were truly his and he was truly yours, in every possible sense. With his days spent teaching the art of illusion magic to the next generation of hopeful mages and his evenings spent returning home to his precious wife, Gale wasn’t sure it would be scientifically possible for him to be any happier, let alone any more fortunate.

Gale was in the kitchen preparing dinner when you returned home, having spent the afternoon handling a few errands and wandering about the city. It always came as a delight for him to see you exploring his hometown in the same ways he did growing up, discovering all the neat little oddities and secrets that lay beneath the unassuming surface.

He turned over his shoulder to face you at the sound of the door creaking open and then clicking shut, a smitten grin tugging at his face already. The sight of his beloved would never cease to fluster him, after all.

“There she is,” Your handsome wizard greeted warmly, “The lovely and– might I say, stunningly beautiful– Princess of Waterdeep.”

Just like that, you were blushing too, approaching to wrap your arms around him at the waist from behind, pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder, affectionately roaming every inch of him you could get your hands on with a gentle touch.

Yes, life post-Netherbrain softened Gale Dekarios in many ways, and his figure was no exception.

It was no secret Gale had an appreciation for the little indulgences in life, like rich wine and too many sweets, alarm clocks shut off when they really shouldn’t be, cozy bedding and plush furniture and hearty ‘marry me’ dinners. But, luxuries like that were rather few and far between when the two of you were on the road, and long days of traveling by foot and fighting to survive made for great exercise at the time.

Suffice it to say, having a stable home and living without being under the constant threat of death meant you weren’t quite as active as you used to be. With time, his cheeks filled out a little more, and his clothes became a bit snug as lean muscle gave way to plush flesh. His skin glowed. He looked relaxed and nourished, he looked healthy, and you couldn’t get enough of him if you tried.

Your wandering hands did make him a little timid in the moment, however– he hadn’t put on a concerning amount of extra padding by any means, but still, this new look was taking some getting used to.

“Quite alright, my love?” Gale asked with a soft laugh as your hands came to rest at his hips, your kisses trailing up the side of his neck. His skin was glowing warm beneath your attention.

“Mhm,” You hummed innocently, nodding, your hands sliding forward to feel along the delicate roundness of his belly through his shirt. “I just missed you today, dearest, and you look so delightful. I have half a mind to talk you into dessert before dinner, hm?”

Your beloved husband was well and truly burning up now, stuttering over whatever he had going on the stove and very much considering abandoning it in favor of bending you over the countertop, but something made him hesitate.

With a bashful laugh, as though he were trying to play it off, Gale replied, “Right, well, I suppose I could use the exercise.”

Your brows furrowed with confusion and you glanced up at him over his shoulder, trying to read his expression. He said that so casually, like he didn’t think anything of it, and it broke your heart a little bit.

“For all it may be worth, I think you look divine,” You said, face straight and meaning every word of it. Even if Gale was trying to laugh it off, it wasn’t a joke to you. Quietly, you added, “I would argue a bit of fluff suits you well, my darling.”

Thankfully Gale tended to be rather easily convinced by you.

His posture relaxed a little bit, and now the laugh that puffed out from between his lips was noticeably more genuine. “Perhaps it’s about time we put ‘a bit of fluff’ on you. I fear my mother will lose her head soon if I don’t.”

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes with playful curiosity. “Your mother? And what concern is that of hers, hm?”

“Only the same concern of every mother, dearest,” He grinned as though it were obvious, “Grandbabies.”

This response of his gave you pause. Gale’s mother hadn’t exactly been quiet about her desire for grandchildren since the day you met her, but she’d never gone too far, never pestered you to the point of being uncomfortable, and never made it out to be particularly urgent– you wondered if perhaps she’d been less patient on the topic with Gale.

Your pause had a lot less to do with the pressure to please his mother and a lot more to do with the undeniable fact that the thought of Gale fucking a baby into you made your knees go weak. You weren’t even sure you were breathing for a moment, until it occurred to you that you’d been quiet for too long and any further hesitation to respond could be taken the wrong way.

Clearing your throat softly, you continued the playful banter, “I think my earlier suggestion stands to remedy that concern as well, no? Dessert before dinner?”

What you didn’t know was that Gale had been thinking about this a lot more often than he was letting on. Sure, the pestering of his baby-crazy relatives was one factor, but more than anything, the safety and security he’d felt in the year since you’d married had him throwing himself into the romantics of domesticity with abandon. When you first met, he never imagined such a future would be possible for him. The chaos and uncertainty that came along with defeating the Absolute brought death far closer than most people would see the other side of, and yet you made it.

Against all odds, hand-in-hand, you still made it. And every night since your wedding, as you tucked into bed alongside one another, he dreamt of you glowing with the radiance of motherhood. He didn’t want to pressure you– after everything that had happened, it felt like a lot to ask of you to also bear his child, like that might be pushing his luck… though you had all but just confirmed your interest with that last remark, and that didn’t make it past him.

Gale turned off the stove so as not to burn the masterpiece he’d been cooking before turning around to face you, his broad hands coming up to cradle your face. The look he gave you was intensely romantic and almost vulnerable, his eyes gazing deep down into your own as he asked, “My darling, do you know how long I’ve yearned to make you a mother?”

Your heart was hammering now, warmth creeping up your cheeks as you found yourself unable to break eye contact, not that you wanted to anyway. Bashfully, your hands came to rest upon his soft shoulders, feeling his own heart pulsing away in his chest, his cheeks going rosy with the same warmth. There was always a certain synchronicity between you and Gale.

Voice lowering to a near whisper, the emotion behind your words just as strong, you replied, “How long?”

The look he gave you was tender and reverent. Your husband clicked his tongue and smiled at the floor before cupping your jaw in his two strong hands, meeting your eyes once again. Tone rich with sincerity, he began, “Back in the Grove, seeing you with all the little Tieflings… a lot of people would have disregarded them as scoundrels, but not you, my darling.

“You embraced their mischief– not only embraced it, but nurtured it. Refined it. You treated them with patience and respect, and you didn’t look down upon them, you kneeled to their level. At every turn, you protected them, but you never patronized them. You learned just as much from them as they learned from you.”

He paused for a moment, thumbs stroking over your flushed cheeks, his own skin burning just as hot. Pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, Gale continued, “I’m sure you can imagine how that sent off the train of thought. For the longest time, I bit it back. It felt like a pipe dream, and I didn’t want to kid myself– I’ve done enough of that for two lifetimes. But then the Netherbrain fell, the Absolute released her iron grip on the commonwealth of Faerun, and what’s more, you accepted my hand in marriage.

“The first morning I woke up next to you in the safety of our marital bed, it didn’t feel like such a distant reality anymore. There you were right before me, and in my mind’s eye, you were bathed in the golden glow of dawn and fertility, your nightgown clinging to your divine, ripening figure. Ever since that moment, the image of you with child has dominated my every waking thought. I crave it like the sweetest wine, my heart, to see you become plump and radiant with motherhood.”

Leave it to Gale to so easily render you weak in the knees with his poetics. The way he described it, you could see it too. You could see the silk of your nightgown becoming snug around your middle as your belly would come to rise like pastry, you could see the vein in Gale’s brow tense while he would struggle to put a crib together. You could see your grocery lists growing to include nappies and baby food, you could see a space at the dining table occupied by a high chair.

He was right, it didn’t feel distant at all. It felt so close you could taste it, the veil between this reality and that one now paper thin, like a cobweb you could just blow away.

Before you could think up a response, he was speaking again, his tone delicate and low, “Just imagine it, dearest. A child born of you and I would have the purest connection to the Weave imaginable, and you would make a gorgeous mother… You know I adore you always, but I must confess, I’m not sure I would be able to leave you be, seeing you like that. It might just require the strength of a thousand men to pry me away.”

You puffed out a laugh, your face and the tips of your ears burning with bashfulness. Leaning forward to hide your face away in his soft chest, you teased, “So it wasn’t your mother who put you up to this?”

“Ah, I’m afraid not, my darling,” He cracked a grin, planting a smooch to the crown of your head. “At least not entirely. This was a hole I dug the both of us into largely on my own, I’ll admit.”

His hands slid down to rest upon your hips, and for a moment, you just held each other like that. It felt cozy, it felt comfortable, like time itself had paused around you. In all your days, no one but Gale could make you feel like that so consistently. You almost wondered if there might be some subtle illusion magic at play in moments like these, but you knew all too well that Gale’s charm had very little to do with the Weave– he was just like that, and you were all the more fortunate for it.

Gale’s hold on your hips tightened in an affectionate squeeze before his arms were snaking around you, one at your lower back and one where your thighs met your bottom. He lifted you from your feet and spun you around to face the other way, propping you up on the countertop in one smooth movement, the tightening front of his pants nestled right up against the crotch of your underwear through your dress.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling, and he didn’t make it any easier for you to remember how to breathe when his next move was to stoop his head down and smother your throat with languid kisses.

“Gale,” You gasped, hips rutting forward to knock into his own, your head spinning as the distinct outline of his arousal grinded right up against your clit. “Gods above, you’re going to be the death of me…”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest at your accusation, his teeth nipping playfully at your pulse point before he spoke against your skin, “Always a flair for dramatics with you, my beloved bride… though if that should turn out to be true, then you’d die how you lived; ravished, revered and adored by your most loyal wizard.”

Just as soon as he’d put you there, Gale was plucking you up from the countertop again, and while it was your immediate assumption that he was going to carry you off to the bedroom, it would seem he didn't even have the patience for that. Your back hit the dining table with a gentle thud, though the ever mindful wizard braced the back of your head gracefully with an oven mitt just in time.

You dissolved into a fit of squirms, giggles, and quiet yelps as his lips and teeth met your neck in a display of needy attention, his fingertips crackling with magic as they found their way up beneath the skirt of your dress. Grip printing into your hips, he dragged you back until your clothed cunt was flush with his bulge again, and the electric shock of pleasure that rang through you in response threatened to knock the wind out of you.

Gale wouldn't, you thought to yourself, surely he wouldn't enchant his--

He tilted your chin up with his knuckle, a brutally smug grin plastered on his rosy face as your eyes met again. "Are you with me, dearest?" His thumb came forward to stroke over the plush of your bottom lip, almost pulling it into a pout himself.

"Yeah," You shivered, nodding without even really thinking about it. You couldn't even bring yourself to poke fun at him for that like you might have otherwise. "Did you--"

"Shh," Gale cooed, untying the laces of his trousers to relieve some of the pressure before he folded over you and rolled his hips forward again, caging you between the table and his warm, plush frame. The barrier between you was lesser now, and you felt it immediately.

He was radiating the Weave, delicate strands seeping through the thin fabric of your undergarments to kiss, lick, and tingle over your flesh. The sensation wasn't completely foreign-- taking a master wizard as a partner and lover for life naturally lent itself to inappropriate use of the arcane-- but no two intimate encounters with him were ever alike. Sometimes it made you wonder just how many of those hours he spent locked away in his tower were giving him ideas.

In hardly any time at all you could feel yourself soaking through your panties, your hips rutting forward to chase him and your mind slipping away into a helpless little puddle of mush, and he had barely even touched you yet. It was all by design, of course-- he didn't want to get too cocky and risk wasting a drop of himself that could otherwise be getting you pregnant.

Discarding his shirt and dragging your panties down with shaking hands, Gale groaned at the sight of your arousal, the extent of it. You were right drooling between your legs, pussy glistening with the very same juices that drenched and clung to your underwear. He couldn't help but dip two fingers between your silky folds to collect your nectar for himself. As soon as it hit his tongue he felt like he couldn't breathe. Your taste was creamy and sweet like icing, a flavor he wouldn't ever tire of even if it was the only thing he could ever have again. He could devour you for a lifetime and still hunger for eternity.

"You're going to grow so beautifully," He said lowly, eyes half-lidded and his pupils blown wide as saucers. In you he saw nothing but the future. One hand shoving his pants and briefs down his thighs and the other planting itself upon your stomach, his cock sprang up to kiss the plump flesh of his own belly as he continued, "I will thank the divines for the remainder of my life that I should have the pleasure of watching you ripen with our fruit."

You could have cried. Your bottom lip did wobble a little bit as you gazed up at him, choking up, and he stooped down to kiss you immediately.

"None of that," He mumbled against your lips, dragging his stiff, weeping cock through your folds to keep you good and dizzy, every contact of his skin against yours still buzzing with the arcane. "I have you, okay? I have you. I love you. You're alright."

Nodding in response, feeling the tears dry up right then and there, your lips parted in preparation to respond but all that came out was a deep, pleasured cry. Gale was sinking into your hole like he was made for you, stretching you open with slow, delicate thrusts, his breath heavy and lustful in your ear.

Stuffing you full of himself until the head of him was threatening to kiss your cervix, Gale stilled for a moment, nipping at the shell of your ear before kissing your cheek affectionately and checking in with you, "Feeling good, my darling?"

"Mhm," You nodded, and as soon as your approval registered to him, he began to move.

Bliss. Pure and uncut bliss. That quiet little hum of approval quickly melted into staggered breaths and mewls, your hands finding purchase in kneading at the dough of his waist. You really couldn't get over how well the extra weight suited him, how perfectly it softened his edges and padded out the warmest parts of his physique. He was made for a body like this, a little bit round and squishy and sweet. You wanted to swallow him in one bite.

Every stroke of his cock inside you felt like true euphoria, crackles and tingles of pleasure radiating outward from each and every nerve ending, and he felt it too. You could tell by the look on his face, the way his mouth hung open with deep, wanton moans, the way he shivered and stuttered with damn near every thrust.

"G-Gale," You cried out, nails printing into his flesh as you tried to tug him down to you.

Typically he would have obliged you without hesitation, but Gale had other plans at the moment. Bracing himself against the fine oak wood to the right side of your head, his other hand gripped at your thigh and angled your leg up with ease. Before you could register what he was about to do, he was already doing it.

Folding you into a half mating press, he drove into you deep, the Weave sinking into your bloodstream with a staggering intensity that nearly made you scream.

Swallowing your cries with his own lips, Gale kissed you just about as deeply as he was fucking you, his facial hair scratching and tickling at your cheeks as his silky tongue slipped over your own. Every knock of his hips against your own had the dining table rattling too, the walls of your marital home ringing with the sounds of sex, the obscene squelching of your pussy sucking him in, the needy whines and moans slipping from you both.

You felt like you were on fire in the best possible way. Every square inch of your body was alight with lust and magic, your legs hooked around his hips to draw him even closer. The two of you could fuse together and you would still want to get closer.

Soon enough, your throbbing clit was met with the unexpected pressure of arcane fingertips, measured strokes of a figure-eight over your swollen bud that coaxed you higher and higher and higher until you felt like you were weightless there on that table, lifting from it, your lips only parting from his own as your head fell back against the oven mitt in a desperate gasp for breath.

That breath was almost immediately followed by a broken cry of his name, the stimulation causing your greedy cunt to clench and pulse around him, again, by design. Sinking down on his elbow so he could speak directly into your ear, his cock stroking so deeply into you that it nearly felt like it was prodding at your lungs, Gale groaned, "That's it, pup, there you are... Such pretty noises from my good girl, my darling little wife..."

"I love you, I love you, I--"

Cutting you off with a kiss, Gale replied, "I love you more, and I'll give you as many babies as it takes to prove it."

Your vision went white, thighs wrenching tight around his hips as you plummeted over the edge unlike ever before. It felt like traveling through a lightning bolt, your spine arching up into a fine point, your stomach pressing up against his own as he emptied his load inside you, mage hand still circling your puffy clit.

Ropes and ropes of creamy seed flooded your hole until you were stuffed to the brim, leaving behind that delicious pressure that came along with being stretched so full. Your bottom half felt heavy as you fought to catch your breath beneath him, tears leaking from your dewy eyes.

"N-No more, no more with the mage hand," You stammered, sucking in a sharp breath as its thumb and forefinger took your clit in a delicate pinch.

Another second or two passed in which he continued to have his fun before deciding you'd had enough. The stimulation to your bud slowly ceased, but as he withdrew his softening sex from you, you quickly realized you didn't feel any less full.

Brows knitting together, you squirmed and struggled to sit up, watching Gale turn his back to dampen a washcloth before returning to you, gently wiping the sweat from your brow and the slick from your inner thighs, brushing your hair away from your face reverently. "Shh, shh. Just sit still for a moment longer, alright? Let me get you cleaned up."

He continued his gentle work until you were refreshed and sparkling before scooping you up from the dining table like a princess in his arms, carrying you off to the bedroom to get you both changed.

It was only as the two of you entered the room and you caught sight of yourself in the floor-length mirror that you realized Gale's mage hand was still very much at work, its thick middle and ring fingers plugging you up nicely. Not a drop was wasted with the diligent digits blocking the way.

Gale helped you out of your dress and into a soft nightgown, and in your exhaustion you were ready to just crash into bed for the night. Curling up atop the covers as Gale changed into loungewear of his own, you were about to fall asleep right then and there when he woke you with a loving grin.

"Huh?" You mumbled, reaching up to rub your eyes, and as his own raked over the image of your beautiful body, he couldn't stop thinking about the many ways it would come to develop over the next several months.

"We still haven't eaten, my love."

You groaned, burying your face back into the bedding stubbornly. "But I'm tired..."

"You were the one who wanted dessert before dinner, sweetest," He teased. "We've had our dessert, and now it's time for dinner. Besides, I thought we agreed to fluff you up a bit?"

A bashful smile tugging at your cheeks, you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, huffing out, "Okay, okay, fine," reaching your arms out for him to carry you again, and you were so lucky he loved to baby you.

Gale didn't hesitate to take you into his arms, your head nestled up against his chest as you returned to the kitchen together. He placed you gently down in a chair at the dining table before assessing what he'd left on the stove earlier. His 'masterpiece' was now ice cold and unappealing to him, and surely his darling wife deserved better than cold and unappealing.

Turning over his shoulder to look at you, Gale asked you a question that you didn't think you'd ever hear him ask; "How about tavern food tonight?"

#venustext #sintext #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 gale smut #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #bg3 gale x reader #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav #bg3 gale x tav

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a1sart · 11 months ago

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voice of the paranoid my beloved <3

#slay the princess #als art #the voice of the paranoid #stp voices

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funkyplantguy · 6 months ago

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grian gets saved by hotguy and then pines over him <3

so this "au" (if you can even call it that when it exists exclusively in my brain and now in this ask) is mostly crack and comes from me joking around a couple days ago with some friends so...don't take it too seriously. that being said...

you have (3) new comments! view now?

click.

areeongreenday: hey! so this is insane.

click.

h0tguysnumber0n3fan: i guess i kind of understand where you're coming from with this - scar goodman and hotguy do share a similar sense of humor, and i sort of see what you're saying at 47:03 when you compared their voices (more specifically, the inflection they use on specific words) but...i guess i'm having a hard time imagining scar as a superhero. don't get me wrong - he's plenty cool, but...didn't he say that he's a full-time content creator now? i don't know that he'd really have the time to record, edit, and post videos on top of saving the city on a near-daily basis. interesting theory, though! admire the dedication.

click.

scargoodman: ;)

and there it was, taunting him - that damn winky face, yet again, commented nearly instantaneously each time grian uploaded a new video about the man itself. scar goodman - known to many as the man who had risen to sudden fame in the video essayist community with his charming good looks and boisterous personality. scar goodman, whom grian suspected was secretly none other than the city's beloved superhero. after all, they'd both made their debuts within a week of each other and shared not only a similar path of success but a similar sense of humor, a similar speaking style, a similar body type, a similar laugh...sure, there were things that didn't quite line up, but...for the most part, they appeared to be the exact same person.

okay - maybe grian was a little obsessed. but what was he supposed to do, not point out the obvious?

what made matters worse was that nobody seemed to believe him. no matter how many videos he posted, no matter how much proof he gave...nobody was willing to hear him out.

nobody except scar goodman himself, who seemed intent to drive him absolutely insane.

grian grumbled something to himself, pocketing his phone and continuing down the long, narrow sidewalk to his apartment complex. he'd lost track of time at work yet again, and as a result, the sun had long set. this wasn't unusual for him - he often opted to remain late in the office to "finish up a few things" (ie take advantage of the functional wifi his workplace offered instead of trying to upload videos on his crummy home network), so he was...fairly comfortable tracing the path back to his apartment in the dark of night. the street lights in this part of town didn't work exceptionally well, but with the familiarity of it all and the dull light of the moon, grian typically fared well enough.

tonight, however...well, call him paranoid, but...something felt...off. something about the way all the buildings around him were dark, indicating that their inhabitants were either asleep or out (and entirely unreachable if grian were to call for help). something about the absence of the various stray cats that he often crossed paths with. something about how the complete and utter silence made his ears ring.

"aw, what's this? a cute guy? well, pretty boy, you've just entered the wrong part of town at the wrong time. unfortunately, loose lips sink ships, or...uh...however the saying goes, so...sorry, i can't let you leave this visit alive."

before grian could even register the words being spoken (where were they even coming from?? above him? below him? behind him? everywhere, all at once?), he felt hands gripping the back of his shirt. in another moment, he was on the ground, his breath clawing its way out of his chest. above him stood a figure, shrouded in darkness and the billowing, starry cape draped across their shoulders. in their hands was something glinting, something sharp, something deadly -- something that grian's frazzled, spinning mind was unable to put a name to. or maybe it refused to - refused to name the tool that would be his doom. maybe it was better that way, he mused idly, as the figure raised it high above their head. maybe it was best to not know.

"hey! there you are - what did i say about running off?"

and just as quickly as he'd accepted his death, the threat of it was gone, vanquished by the appearance of the tall, costumed man on the rooftop adjacent. grian felt his breath return to his chest in one fell swoop, filling his lungs and sending a wave of sensitivity to his throat. he coughed, hard, tears welling helplessly in his eyes, and the newcomer's attention snapped to him in an instant.

"oh - and you've made a friend! how nice. unfortunately, there are no plus ones in prison."

"hotguy," grian's would-be murderer snarled. "i thought i'd lost you."

"nah. i may have gotten lost, sure. but you didn't lose me. there's a difference."

"you'll wish that i'd lost you when i'm through with you."

"oh, that was lame!" the man cried, hopping over the low rooftop wall and landing neatly on the ground below (how he did it, even grian wasn't sure. by all intents and purposes, his legs shouldn't have that level of shock absorption, even if he had been fed some chemical cocktail by a mad scientist at a young age as he boasted). "listen - we've got to get you a better catchphrase."

hotguy strode forward, his eyes glinting behind his tinted visor. he glanced to grian out of the corner of his eye, then back to the villain - then back to grian again, his mouth going slack in surprise. grian met his gaze - took in his appearance - and let out a bark of laughter, one not missed by either scar goodman or the cloaked figure in front of him. scar returned his laughter, throwing his head back and planting his hands firmly on his hips.

"well, what a coincidence," he giggled, after a moment. "my new catchphrase just so happens to be "subscribe to my youtube channel."

"what?" their third demanded, glancing between the two. "what are you talking about?"

"oh my god. there's no way. there's no way. how - how am i the only one who knows? how am i the only one who suspects?? it's obvious - it's so obvious."

"what's obvious?"

"i know, right? i make it as obvious as possible, and still...still, nobody puts two and two together. well...nobody except for you, apparently. i guess that you're just...special."

"why don't you just come out and say it?" grian mused, propping himself up on his elbows and ignoring the sputtering from their newly acquired third wheel. "i feel like if you said it - either as scar goodman or hotguy - people would have to believe it, no?"

a strange look came over hotguy's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

"ah...i don't think that would change anything. plus, i have this thing with this cute guy where he tries to tell everyone my identity and i egg him on to get him to make more silly videos. i would hate to give that up."

he winked, and grian felt warmth climb his cheeks. gone was the fear, gone was the panic, gone was the darkness and the creeping, crawling sense of unease - instead, there was only curiosity, burning brightly in his chest. he wanted to talk to scar - hotguy - for hours, wanted to pull the object of his obsession apart to see what made him tick, then put him back together again, just to see what would happen. he wanted to get to know who hotguy was underneath the suit - and who scar goodman was with the suit. he'd wanted (he'd wanted for so long) and it felt like maybe...just maybe...he'd get to have.

"hey! what the hell is going on?"

"oh, right," hotguy chuckled, turning his attention to the third member of their party. "sorry - didn't mean to ignore you. here - sit tight, for real this time. the police will be here soon."

"dude, i'm just going to leave again. do you really not have handcuffs or something?"

"who needs handcuffs when you have a cub to design fancy gadgets for you?"

"a...a what?" the figure asked, then yelped, startled, as something exploded out of the cuff on hotguy's wrist. a net, affixing itself neatly to their body, wrapping them up in a cocoon of their own folly. grian stared at it, humming in approval.

"nice."

"thank you! it's new."

"i know."

"i bet you do," scar responded, and grian flushed further at the teasing edge his tone took on. "i bet you know almost everything about me, at this point. obsessed, much?"

"i could say the same," grian huffed back, pulling himself to his feet and brushing off his jeans (there was a rip in one leg, now, he noticed with a frown). "you recognized me, like, immediately. it's pretty dark out, too - sounds like you're the one obsessed."

"what can i say - you're pretty and smart. i happen to like my men pretty and smart."

grian sputtered incoherently in response, all confidence gone out the window. oh god - he was even more charismatic in person, even in costume. and god, was the costume more attractive in person, as well - baggy cargo pants and a tight, fitted top that exposed his tanned midriff. not the most tactical, sure - but damn was it hot.

"you can't say that," he moaned, covering his reddened cheeks with his hands. "oh my god. i hate you. i've known you for five minutes and i already hate you."

"sure you do," scar responded, grinning. "i - oh, hold on."

he raised his hand and tapped the earpiece affixed to the side of his head, concentrating. after a moment, he sighed - and for just a second, grian thought that his shoulders drooped in exhaustion. as quickly as they sagged, however, scar was straightening, turning back to grian with an easy smile.

"sorry, handsome, duty calls. are you alright to get back home on your own? i doubt this guy will be giving you any more trouble. those nets are pretty sturdy."

"wait!" grian sputtered, his heart hammering painfully in his chest (no, no, he couldn't let scar slip through his fingers, not now, not when he was finally so close). "don't go - i...can i see you again?"

scar's smile wobbled around the edges, and any panic grian felt was replaced with guilty - heavy and suffocating (though he wasn't sure why)

"ah...isn't it more fun, this way? don't you like the chase? isn't that exhilaration enough for your pretty little head?"

"i mean...it's a fun hobby, yeah, but -,"

"then we'll stick to the status quo. after all, i'd hate to rob you of your favorite hobby. goodnight, grian. can't wait for your next video."

and with a wink, he was gone, disappearing back into the shadows so quickly grian could have sworn he was made of them. and grian...well. he had an apartment to get home to, a cat to feed...and a chase to continue. and maybe, someday, if he was fast enough...he'd catch up.

#oooooooooh no. oooooooh my god. guys i know i said this was a crack au and not that deep but i fear i've infected myself with the brainworms #i got an Idea. i got an Idea and now i can't stop thinking about it #alternatively: mom says it's MY turn for a scarian superhero au #anyway. maybe more of this to come. i'll come back and tag this au properly when i figure out what to call it #feel free to Ask Me Things regarding this if you are interested and want to Force me to think more about it #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #hermitshipping #plant answers #plant writes #i'm back the tenative title for this au is unmasked #unmasked au

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eldritchravens · 1 year ago

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Welcome Home - The Homewarming Update : A compilation of the secrets I could find

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD!⚠️

This post is simply a compilation of all the things I could find during my exploration of the website. I'm not going to delve too much into theories. Enjoy the read!

1- Statics

Every background is now filled with statics. I tried zooming out but I couldn't find anything. Not really a secret, but still interesting to note.

2- It's a dog! Oh, and a pea!

Found in the "Official Welcome Home Cook Book" in the merchandise page. I am... A little worried about Barnaby. For those who are aware, the pea is foreshadowing for a much bigger secret.

3- Audio distortion

Surprisingly, I was only able to find one instance where the audio distorts. In the "Homewarming Storybook Record", when Wally speaks here (timestamp is 18:16), the audio gets distorted. Please let me know if you found more audio glitches on the main website!

4- The page is breathing

I was able to capture something that made my skin crawl. Look very closely at this illustration. It's... breathing. I'm unsure if any other image in the website does that too. Very troubling.

5- Lost track of time

Uh-oh! Looks like our beloved writer is losing their perception of time itself. An effect of the black substance maybe? You can find this on the News page.

6- Pixels? Smudges? Oh, and a new friend!

In The Neighboorhood page, Home now has little white pixels around him? I'm unsure if this was intentional or not. Interestingly, the secret link under Home dissapeared along with every other traces of Wally.

The logo on certain pages looks... dirty? Look closely, there are brownish stains on some letters. This doesn't appear everywhere.

And! New friend! Hello new friend!

7- Symbols!

Okay, now onto the main course. Something I think we've all noticed straight away! There's a ton of tiny little doodles splattered around the website. The doodles are all named after a letter. Here is every letter translated from their respective symbol you can find on the website :

Home : M I O A Merchandise : P Y E R Media : Y G About us : A R Stickers : E News : T Neighboorhood : S F N E Wally : W Exhibition : N Ghestbook : W W W Transcript : Y

"www" huh? Interesting, like a web link. At first, all of this doesn't really mean anything, until we stumble upon this!

Fascinating, it's a code! Eddie here is giving us the translation to every single doodle. Next, if we solve the question here "What does Home wear at parties?", it gives us the next clue we need. The answer is "ADDRESS". Address? Now, remember the "www" thing? That's right! We need to assemble the letters we found to make a link!

8- Away from Prying Eyes

After assembling a link, you will be able to visit a secret page. In it is by far the biggest secret in this update : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/

When I tell you I lost my marbles when I discovered this. There is a lot to say here! Firstly, one thing to note is that unlike any other secrets we had found in previous updates, Wally didn't put this here. Instead, it was this mysterious "W". Go read the whole thing! It's PACKED with information!

"W" purposely put this here for US to find. W is in distress, confused and scared; this looks like a call for help.

Might or might not be important, but the word "Paranoid" here starts with a capital. It did catch my eye, so maybe it is noteworthy.

This entire phone call is absolutely fascinating and gives us answers about the lore. I highly recommend people to give it a listen : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/phone

AND THIS??? OH MY GOODNESS!!! Clown is spoiling us with gifts for this Homewarming! Truly, thank you Clown and the whole WH team, you're doing such a marvelous job. Watch the whole thing here : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/commercials

And what's this hidden among the commercials? Eddie! Remember how I said the pea was foreshadowing? Eddie can hear Home's heartbeat. Well, our dearest mailman doesn't look too well :( Thankfully Frank seems to be looking out for him!

_________________________

Important things to note: This update is almost completely void of any trace of Wally infesting the website. The symbols were placed by the website manager here. Wally is not there anymore. Also, Eddie is purposely left out of the main update, only to be the center of attention in the commercial compilation.

Well! That's all I managed to find for now! Please let me know in the replies if I've missed anything. Thank you for reading, and Happy Homewarming! <3

Edit : Added some new things I just noticed!

#welcome home #partycoffin #welcome home update #welcome home secrets #welcome home puppet show #welcome home homewarming #homewarming #welcome home wally #welcome home home #welcome home eddie

886 notes · View notes

amethystarachnid · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, I wanted to ask you for some angst with Tony (but with a very happy ending). Tony is very worried and paranoid about the reader's safety, so he decides to break up with her so she can be safe away from him, and he's a little "mean" to her, saying things like "I don't love you anymore, I don't want you in my life" just so she doesn't want to go after him, but he still loves her more than anything, they both become very miserable and sad without each other... the reader decides to move to another city, but before leaving she discovers that she's pregnant and decides not to tell him... after four months of a lot of suffering, the Avengers talk to Tony and convince him to get back with her because in fact she is safer with him and they love each other... so he decides to look for her and when they meet he is very happy to discover that he's going to be a father and asks her to marry him and of course she accepts ❤️

SAFETY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff and angst

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said <3

ᯓ★ TW(s): none I think (?)

ᯓ★ angst my beloved

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The city hums with life below the skyscrapers, a symphony of horns, chatter, and footsteps. High above it all, in the shimmering confines of the Stark Tower penthouse, you sit cross-legged on a sleek couch, flicking through channels on the obscenely large flat-screen. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself alone here while Tony tinkers in his workshop, but tonight feels different. He hasn’t said much, which, for Tony Stark, is like a flashing neon sign of distress.

You sense him before you see him. The faint whir of his elevator, the telltale shuffle of bare feet across the polished floor. Then, the deep sigh—tired, weighted. You glance over your shoulder as he steps into the room, disheveled but still somehow annoyingly attractive. His dark T-shirt clings to his chest, faint streaks of grease smeared across the fabric, and his hair is a chaotic mess that screams of hours spent running his fingers through it.

"Hey," you call softly, setting the remote aside. "You okay?"

Tony doesn’t answer immediately. He crosses the room with purpose, heading straight for the bar. You watch as he pours himself a drink—a double, by the look of it—before leaning against the counter, staring at the amber liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe.

"I’m fine," he finally mutters, though the tension in his jaw tells a different story.

You stand and approach him, bare feet silent on the cold floor. He doesn’t flinch when you slide a hand over his, gently nudging the glass away from his lips before he takes a sip. "Liar," you whisper, your voice laced with concern.

Tony smirks faintly, though it’s devoid of his usual arrogance. "You’ve got me figured out, don’t you?"

"Something’s wrong," you press, studying him intently. "What is it?"

He exhales sharply, the sound almost a growl. His free hand rakes through his hair again as he straightens up, pacing a short, tight circle. "It’s nothing," he insists, though the way his shoulders twitch says otherwise. "Just… work stuff."

"Work stuff," you echo, crossing your arms. "You’re not a very convincing liar tonight, Stark."

He stops mid-step, turning to face you. The flicker of something raw and unguarded flashes across his face before he schools his expression. "I’m just trying to keep my head above water," he admits, voice low. "It’s been… a lot lately."

You step closer, resting a hand on his chest, right over the arc reactor that hums faintly beneath his shirt. The light pulses gently against your palm, a comforting rhythm. "You don’t have to do it alone, you know."

His hand covers yours, warm and calloused, though his grip is light, almost hesitant. "That’s the problem," he murmurs, eyes locking onto yours. "You’re not part of the equation. You’re the damn variable. The wild card I can’t control."

"Tony…" You try to pull back, but he holds your hand firmly now, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

"I can’t lose you," he says, the words spilling out like a confession he’s been holding back for far too long. "I can’t—God, do you even understand what you mean to me?"

Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You’ve seen Tony Stark in many forms: the cocky genius, the billionaire philanthropist, the reckless hero. But this—this is uncharted territory. This is the man behind the mask, stripped bare and painfully human.

"I’m not going anywhere," you promise, though the words feel fragile in the face of his fear.

"You can’t guarantee that," he snaps, pulling away abruptly. He stalks to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city below. His reflection in the glass is fractured, distorted by the faint glow of the arc reactor. "You have no idea how dangerous this life is. How dangerous I am."

You follow him, stopping a few feet away. "You think I don’t know the risks? Tony, I’ve seen you come back battered and bloody, half-dead. I know what’s out there."

"Then you should know why I’m scared," he retorts, turning to face you. His voice rises, trembling with anger—or maybe desperation. "Every time I suit up, every time I step into a fight, I’m thinking about you. About what happens if someone comes after you because of me."

"That’s not your call to make," you argue, stepping closer. "I’m not some fragile thing you need to lock away in a tower."

"Yes, you are!" he yells, and the sheer force of his words makes you freeze. His chest heaves, his fists clenched at his sides. "You are, and that terrifies me. You don’t understand—"

"Then make me understand," you interrupt, your voice firm. "Talk to me, Tony. Don’t shut me out."

He stares at you, his gaze flicking between your eyes, searching for… something. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, almost broken. "They’ll come for you. Sooner or later, someone will figure out that you’re my weakness, and they’ll use you against me. And when that happens, I won’t be able to stop it. I’ll lose you."

The raw honesty in his words slices through you like a knife. You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "You won’t lose me," you say fiercely. "I’m not some damsel in distress, Tony. I can handle myself."

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You don’t get it. This isn’t a fair fight. The people I deal with—they don’t play by the rules. They’ll hurt you just to hurt me. And I can’t—" His voice breaks, and he looks away, swallowing hard.

You step closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your forehead against his chest. The arc reactor hums steadily between you, a faint beacon in the darkness. "You’re not alone in this," you whisper. "We’ll figure it out together."

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly, his arms come around you, holding you as if you might vanish if he lets go. His chin rests on the top of your head, and you feel the tension in his body begin to ease, though it doesn’t disappear entirely.

"I don’t know how to protect you," he admits, his voice muffled against your hair.

"You don’t have to," you reply softly. "Just let me be here. Let me stay."

He doesn’t answer, but the way his grip tightens around you says enough. The weight of his fear lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating, but in this moment, neither of you pulls away. It’s a fragile truce, a tentative step forward in a battle neither of you fully understands.

Tony Stark is good at a lot of things. He’s good at building impossible machines, at calculating risks, at charming a room full of strangers. But he’s terrible at this—at pushing you away. And yet, for weeks now, he’s been trying his hardest.

It starts with small things. Coming home later than usual, burying himself in his work even more than normal. He stops joining you for lazy mornings on the couch, starts making excuses when you suggest dinner or a night out. At first, you tell yourself it’s just Tony being Tony—his mind has always been in overdrive, and sometimes, he simply gets caught up in the chaos of it all.

But then, the distance grows. The way he looks at you shifts. There’s a coldness in his gaze that wasn’t there before, an edge to his words when he bothers to speak at all. He brushes off your touches, sidesteps your attempts to reach him, until finally, the man who once held you as if you were his lifeline feels like a stranger.

You try to ignore it. You tell yourself he’s just stressed, that it’ll pass, but deep down, a sinking feeling gnaws at you. Something is wrong. And tonight, you’re about to find out what.

He’s waiting for you in the living room when you come home, standing by the windows with a glass of scotch in his hand. The city lights cast sharp shadows across his face, making him look older, more worn. The sight sends a pang through your chest, but you push it down, determined to break through whatever wall he’s built between you.

"Tony," you say softly, setting your bag down on the counter. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do." His voice is clipped, almost flat, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns to face you, and for a moment, you swear there’s something in his eyes—something raw and painful—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

You take a step closer, your heart pounding. "What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant, and I—"

"Stop." The word cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and final. He sets the glass down on the counter with a deliberate slowness, then looks at you with an expression so cold it makes your blood run cold. "Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be."

"Harder than what needs to be?" you ask, your voice trembling. "Tony, what are you talking about?"

He exhales heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. When he finally speaks, his tone is laced with a cruel detachment that feels so foreign coming from him. "This. Us. It’s over."

The words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You stare at him, waiting for the punchline, for the smirk that says he’s just being an asshole because that’s what Tony Stark does when he’s uncomfortable. But it doesn’t come.

"You’re joking," you say weakly.

"I’m not."

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the air thick and suffocating. "Tony, what the hell are you talking about? You can’t just—"

"I can, and I am," he interrupts, his voice hard. He steps closer, towering over you, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders. "I don’t love you anymore, Y/N. I don’t want you in my life."

The words are like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes as you try to process what he’s saying. "You don’t mean that," you whisper. "You can’t mean that."

"I do." His tone is icy, emotionless. "I’ve been trying to make it work, but I can’t do this anymore. I need you to leave."

Leave. The word echoes in your mind, hollow and final. Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, and you reach out to steady yourself against the counter. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your voice breaking. "What changed?"

"Nothing changed," he snaps. "That’s the problem. This… whatever this is, it’s not working. It’s not what I want."

The tears spill over now, and you don’t bother wiping them away. "You’re lying," you say, your voice trembling. "I know you, Tony. I know when you’re lying."

He flinches, just barely, but it’s enough to make your chest ache. He looks away, his jaw clenching as he steps back. "You don’t know anything," he mutters. "You don’t know what’s best for you, for either of us."

"You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!" you shout, the anger bubbling up now, cutting through the haze of pain. "If you’re scared, if you’re pushing me away because of your own issues, then—"

"I’m not scared," he growls, his eyes snapping back to yours. "I’m done. That’s it. I’m done, Y/N."

The finality in his tone sends a fresh wave of pain crashing over you, and you stumble back, clutching your chest as if you can physically hold yourself together. "You don’t mean that," you whisper again, your voice breaking. "You love me. I know you do."

"Not anymore," he says, the words landing like a death knell.

For a moment, the silence is deafening. You stare at him, searching for any sign of the man you love, the man who once looked at you like you hung the moon. But all you see is a mask—a cold, unfeeling facade that makes you want to scream.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice shaking but resolute. "You want me to leave? I’ll leave."

You grab your bag and head for the door, your vision blurred by tears. He doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t say a word.

You don’t look back.

Two days later, you send someone else to collect your things.

The apartment feels strange without you. It’s quiet, too quiet, and the absence of your laughter, your scent, your presence is like a black hole, sucking the life out of the space. Tony tries to ignore it. He buries himself in his work, drowns himself in scotch, anything to keep from thinking about you.

But when your friend arrives to pick up your things, it hits him like a punch to the gut. The sight of your clothes, your books, your little trinkets being packed into boxes is unbearable, and he has to leave the room, retreating to the workshop like a coward.

He doesn’t deserve to feel this way, he tells himself. He’s the one who ended it. He’s the one who pushed you away. But the truth is, he’s been lying to himself just as much as he lied to you.

He loves you. He’ll always love you.

But you’re safer without him.

The days without Tony bleed into weeks, and the pain doesn’t lessen; it only festers. The apartment you moved back to—the one you never sold—is suffocatingly quiet, devoid of life. It’s far too small compared to the penthouse at Stark Tower, where everything was expansive, open, and filled with his presence. Here, it’s just you and the echoes of what you had.

You’ve tried to move on. Really, you have. But it’s impossible. Every little thing reminds you of him. The way the morning sun filters through your blinds reminds you of how he used to grumble about the light waking him up. The sound of a passing car with a bad muffler on the street outside makes you think of his ridiculous cars, the way he used to rev the engine just to tease you. Even your favorite takeout spot feels like a betrayal; you can still hear his voice arguing with you over who got the last bite.

But you’re stubborn. You refuse to let yourself break, not completely. You threw yourself into work, taking every shift and every project you could get your hands on, hoping exhaustion would drown out the heartbreak. It doesn’t work. Nothing does.

And then there’s him.

Tony is just as miserable, though he hides it better—or at least he tries to. The penthouse is eerily empty without you. The space that once felt like home now feels like a mausoleum. He doesn’t sleep in the bed anymore; it’s too cold, too hollow without you beside him. Instead, he crashes in the workshop or on the couch, surrounded by empty scotch glasses and the flickering blue glow of the arc reactor.

He hasn’t told anyone the truth. Not Rhodey, not Pepper, not anyone. They ask, of course. They know something’s wrong. He deflects with sarcasm, brushes off their concern, but deep down, he’s barely holding on. He threw away the best thing that ever happened to him, and he knows it. But he can’t take it back. He won’t risk your life, no matter how much it destroys him.

The nights are the worst. That’s when the memories come, unbidden and relentless. He sees your smile, hears your laugh, feels the phantom weight of your hand in his. It’s torture, but he doesn’t stop it. It’s the only way he can feel close to you now.

Weeks turn into months, and the pain doesn’t fade—it deepens, sharpens, becomes a constant ache in both of your chests. You wonder if it will ever go away.

Then, one morning, everything changes.

You’ve been feeling off for days. At first, you chalk it up to stress and exhaustion. You’ve been working too much, not eating properly, and the emotional strain of the breakup has taken a toll on your body. But when the nausea hits hard enough to send you running to the bathroom for the third time that week, you know something’s wrong.

You take the test, your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold it. The seconds feel like hours as you wait, pacing the tiny bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

Two lines.

The world tilts beneath you.

You sink to the floor, the test clutched in your trembling hands. You’re pregnant. With Tony’s child.

The realization crashes over you in waves. A mix of fear, shock, and something else—something softer, more fragile—swirls in your chest. You press a hand to your stomach, the weight of it sinking in. There’s a life inside you. A piece of him.

Your first instinct is to call him, to tell him, to share this life-changing news with the man you once loved. But the thought dies as quickly as it comes. Tony doesn’t want you in his life. He made that painfully clear. And you can’t stomach the idea of facing him again, of reopening that wound.

You make your decision then and there. You won’t tell him.

It’s not an easy choice. In fact, it feels impossible. But you tell yourself it’s for the best. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t love you. You can’t drag him back into your life just because of this. You’ll do it on your own. You have to.

The next few weeks are a blur of emotions. You throw yourself into preparing for the baby, researching everything you can, but the reality of it all is overwhelming. You’re going to be a single mom. You’re going to have to juggle work, bills, and raising a child. The weight of it all feels crushing, but you refuse to give up.

You tell yourself you’re strong. That you can do this. That you don’t need him.

But late at night, when the world is quiet and the ache in your chest is too much to bear, you lie in bed and cry. You cry for the life you thought you’d have, for the love you lost, and for the child who will grow up without their father.

Tony doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop thinking about you. He’s tried to bury himself in work, in distractions, but nothing works. You haunt him. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees your face. Every time he takes a breath, it feels like his chest is being crushed.

He’s barely functioning, and everyone around him knows it. Rhodey corners him one day, demanding answers, but Tony brushes him off with a half-hearted excuse about being busy. Pepper isn’t fooled either. She keeps pushing, trying to get him to talk, but he shuts her out.

Because what can he say? That he’s dying inside? That he regrets every word he said to you but doesn’t have the guts to fix it? That he’s terrified of what would happen if he did?

So he suffers in silence, throwing himself deeper into his work, even as the emptiness inside him grows.

But no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, one thought keeps clawing its way to the surface: he misses you. Desperately.

You decide to leave the city. Staying here is too painful, too suffocating. Everywhere you go, there’s a reminder of him—of the life you had together. You can’t keep living like this. You need a fresh start, for yourself and for the baby.

It’s not an easy decision. Moving means uprooting your entire life, starting over from scratch. But you know it’s the right thing to do.

You find a small apartment in another city, far enough away that the ghosts of your past can’t follow you. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s yours. You spend your days packing up your things, making plans, and trying not to think about how much you’ll miss the city you once called home.

But no matter how hard you try, there’s one thing you can’t stop thinking about: Tony.

You wonder if he’s moved on. If he’s happy. If he even thinks about you anymore.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s better this way. But deep down, you know it’s a lie.

Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how far you go, a part of you will always love him.

Four months pass, and you’ve built a new routine in your new city. It’s not easy, but you’ve always been resilient. Your days are full, juggling long hours at work, studying courses online to make a better future for your child, and preparing for the baby’s arrival. Your belly is round now, unmistakably carrying a life within it. You catch people staring sometimes—coworkers, strangers on the street—but you don’t care. Every time you feel the baby kick, it reminds you why you’re doing all of this.

You haven’t told anyone much about the father. Your coworkers and neighbors assume you’re single, and you’ve never bothered to correct them. It’s easier this way. The pain of thinking about Tony, of what could have been, is still too fresh.

The apartment is small but cozy, and you’ve started turning one corner of the bedroom into a nursery. There’s a secondhand crib you found online, freshly painted in soft cream. Baby clothes are folded neatly in a small set of drawers, and a mobile hangs from the ceiling, its delicate stars swaying gently whenever you walk past.

But it’s hard. So hard.

There are nights when exhaustion grips you so tightly you can barely breathe. Nights when you wonder how you’ll manage everything on your own. And nights when your heart aches for Tony so fiercely you have to press a hand to your chest to calm the storm within you.

Still, you don’t let yourself dwell. You keep going, for your baby.

Meanwhile, Tony is unraveling.

The cracks have become impossible to hide, even from himself. He’s snapping at everyone—at Pepper, at Rhodey, at anyone who tries to get close. He spends most nights in the workshop, working on projects he doesn’t care about, just to keep his hands busy. But no matter how much he distracts himself, the void inside him only grows.

The team notices, of course. They’ve been noticing for months. And finally, they confront him.

It starts with Pepper.

“Tony, this has gone on long enough,” she says one evening, her arms crossed as she stands in the doorway of the workshop.

“I’m fine, Pep,” he mutters without looking up from the piece of tech he’s tinkering with.

“No, you’re not. And we both know why.”

He freezes, his hands stilling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, tough,” she snaps. “Because this isn’t just about you anymore. You think we don’t see what’s happening? You’re falling apart, Tony. And the only person who can fix this is you.”

He doesn’t respond, but the words hit him harder than he wants to admit.

The next day, Rhodey corners him during a training session.

“Stark, we need to talk.”

“Unless it’s about the mission, I’m not interested,” Tony replies, dodging Rhodey’s gaze.

“Bullshit,” Rhodey says bluntly. “You’re miserable. And we both know why. So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep running from her forever?”

Tony clenches his jaw, his hands tightening into fists. “She’s safer without me,” he mutters.

“Safer? Or are you just too scared to fix what you broke?”

The words sting, but Tony doesn’t argue. He can’t.

The final push comes from Steve, of all people.

“You know she loves you,” Steve says one evening as they sit in the common room, the quiet weight of his voice cutting through Tony’s defenses.

“She’s better off without me,” Tony mutters, but his voice lacks conviction.

“She’s not better off if she’s as miserable as you are,” Steve replies. “You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting her—and yourself.”

The words linger long after Steve leaves, echoing in Tony’s mind until he can’t ignore them anymore.

By the end of the week, he’s made up his mind. He’s going to find you.

It takes him some time to track you down. You were smart, cutting ties and keeping your location a secret. But Tony Stark is nothing if not resourceful. When he finally gets a lead, he wastes no time.

He flies to your city on a private jet, his heart pounding the entire way. He’s rehearsed a hundred different things to say, but none of them feel right. All he knows is that he needs to see you, to fix what he broke, even if you slam the door in his face.

When he finds your address, he barely recognizes the street. It’s a far cry from the luxury of Stark Tower, and the thought of you living here makes his chest tighten. He doesn’t knock right away. Instead, he stands there for a moment, gathering his courage.

Finally, he raises a hand and knocks.

When you open the door, the world seems to tilt beneath him.

He’s prepared for a lot of things—anger, hurt, indifference—but he’s not prepared for this.

You’re standing there in a simple dress, your belly round and unmistakable. His heart stops, and for a moment, he can’t breathe.

“Tony,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stares at you, his mind racing. Your belly… it can’t be.

But then, his mind jumps to the worst conclusion. You’ve moved on. Of course, you have. It’s been months. You’ve found someone else, someone who could give you what he couldn’t.

His stomach twists painfully.

“I… I didn’t know,” he says finally, his voice hollow.

You blink, confused. “Didn’t know what?”

“That you were… that you… had someone else,” he says, his gaze dropping to your belly.

Realization dawns on you, and your heart sinks. He thinks the baby isn’t his.

“I don’t—” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

Tony runs a hand through his hair, his emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. “Look, I didn’t come here to make things harder for you,” he says, his voice strained. “I just… I needed to see you. To tell you I was an idiot. That I was wrong. But it’s clear you’ve moved on, so I’ll go.”

He turns to leave, but your voice stops him.

“Tony, wait.”

He freezes, his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn around.

“The baby…” You swallow hard, your voice trembling. “The baby is yours.”

He turns slowly, his eyes wide, his face pale. “What?”

You press a hand to your belly, tears welling in your eyes. “I found out a few weeks after… after you ended things. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to see you again. But this baby is yours, Tony.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, he takes a step closer, his gaze flicking between your face and your belly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“Because you made it clear you didn’t want me,” you whisper, the tears spilling over now. “You told me you didn’t love me anymore. I didn’t want to go through that again.”

His face crumples, and he sinks to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling. “I lied,” he says, his voice raw. “I lied to protect you. Because I love you so much it scares the hell out of me. And I was stupid enough to think you’d be safer without me.”

You stare at him, your heart breaking all over again.

“I was wrong,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I was so wrong, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. Please.”

You don’t know what to say. The pain, the anger, the love—it’s all too much.

But when he reaches out, his hand trembling as he rests it gently on your belly, you feel something shift.

The walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack, just a little.

Tony's hand trembles as it rests gently on your belly, his touch hesitant, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. You should—you’ve been carrying months of pain and anger, all because of him. But standing here now, with his eyes full of something raw and broken, you can’t bring yourself to move.

“Say something,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Please, Y/N.”

You press your lips together, trying to gather your thoughts. There’s so much you want to say—so much hurt, confusion, and love tangled up in your chest that you don’t know where to begin.

“You broke me, Tony,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “You told me you didn’t love me. That you didn’t want me in your life. And I believed you. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been? How much it hurt to hear those words from the person I thought would never hurt me?”

His face crumples, and he looks away, guilt written in every line of his body. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmurs. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I—God, I was so scared. Scared that being with me would put you in danger. That one day, I’d lose you because of what I do—because of who I am. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe.”

“You didn’t protect me,” you say, your voice growing stronger. “You destroyed me. And you didn’t even give me the chance to decide for myself if I wanted to stay or not. You took that choice away from me.”

He winces, his head hanging low. “I know. I know I screwed up, Y/N. And I hate myself for it. Every single day without you has been hell. I thought I was keeping you safe, but all I did was push away the only person I’ve ever loved.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. He looks so different from the man who broke your heart months ago. His eyes are tired, his shoulders slumped, as if he’s been carrying the world on his back.

“I never stopped loving you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not for a second. And if I could take it all back, I would. But I can’t. All I can do now is tell you the truth and hope it’s not too late.”

You close your eyes, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You’ve missed him so much, even when you didn’t want to admit it. And deep down, you know you never stopped loving him either.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you say finally, your voice breaking.

He nods, his jaw tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Whatever you need, Y/N. Just… don’t shut me out. Not now. Not when we have a chance to fix this.”

You look down at his hand on your belly, at the way his fingers tremble slightly against your skin. There’s so much at stake now—not just for you, but for the baby too. And despite everything, a part of you wants to believe him.

“You hurt me, Tony,” you say quietly, your voice laced with both anger and vulnerability. “But I can’t keep doing this alone. I can’t raise this baby by myself. And I don’t want to.”

His eyes snap up to meet yours, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. “You don’t have to,” he says quickly. “I’ll be there for you—every step of the way. I promise.”

You take a shaky breath, your emotions swirling inside you. “If I come back, it’s not going to be easy. We can’t just go back to the way things were.”

“I know,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Whatever you need, Y/N, I’ll do it. Just… come home. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of both of you.”

The word “home” catches in your chest, and for the first time in months, the idea doesn’t feel so far away.

When you finally agree to go back with him, Tony looks like he might cry. He helps you pack up the few belongings you’ve gathered in your time away, his movements careful, as if he’s afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. You can see how hard he’s trying, and while it doesn’t erase the pain of the past, it’s a start.

The drive back to Stark Tower is quiet, but not uncomfortable. He keeps glancing over at you, his expression a mix of relief and nervousness, as if he still can’t believe you’re here.

When you arrive, the elevator ride up to the penthouse feels surreal. You step into the space that used to feel like home, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the memories.

“I know it’s a lot,” Tony says, his voice soft as he watches you. “But I want you to feel comfortable here again. We can make changes—whatever you want.”

You nod, unsure of what to say.

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into making the penthouse feel more like a home for the three of you. He clears out one of the spare bedrooms and starts turning it into a nursery, asking for your input on everything.

“What color do you want for the walls?” he asks one evening, holding up paint swatches.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re seriously going to paint it yourself?”

He grins, a spark of his old charm returning. “I may be a genius billionaire, but I’m not above rolling up my sleeves for my kid.”

Despite yourself, you smile.

He keeps surprising you, showing up to doctor’s appointments, researching baby gear, and even cooking dinner when you’re too tired to move. It’s clear he’s trying, and while it doesn’t erase the hurt, it does start to rebuild something fragile and new between you.

One night, as you’re sitting on the couch together, your hand resting on your belly, you feel the baby kick.

Tony’s eyes widen. “Was that…?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Here,” you say, grabbing his hand and placing it on your belly.

His eyes soften as he feels the movement beneath his palm. “Hey, little one,” he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. “It’s your dad. I can’t wait to meet you.”

The sight of him, so vulnerable and full of love, makes your heart ache in the best way.

For the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe you can build a future together.

The moment you step into the new doctor’s office, you can tell the change was worth it—though you’d never admit that to Tony. The place is immaculate, modern, and soothing, with soft music playing in the background and staff who seem genuinely happy to help. You still feel a little guilty about leaving your old doctor behind, but when you see Tony’s proud smile as he hands over your file, you know he just wants the best for you and the baby.

“This is where you’re supposed to be,” Tony says as you sit in the plush waiting room. He’s bouncing one knee nervously, glancing over at you every few seconds as if to gauge your reaction.

“Don’t let this go to your head,” you tease, rubbing your belly. “But it’s… nice.”

“Nice? Please. It’s state-of-the-art.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “The OB here is one of the best in the country. I made a few calls. Okay, a lot of calls.”

You smirk, resting a hand on his knee to calm his fidgeting. “Thank you, Tony.”

His expression softens, his hand covering yours. “Anything for you. For both of you.”

The new doctor, a calm and professional woman named Dr. Latham, immediately puts you at ease. She reviews your chart thoroughly and listens to all your concerns without rushing you, which feels like a luxury after your previous appointments. She even arranges for an in-depth ultrasound during your visit, mentioning that you’re far enough along to determine the baby’s gender if you’d like.

Tony practically lights up at the suggestion. “Oh, we’d like,” he says enthusiastically, glancing at you for confirmation.

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly just as curious as he is.

The ultrasound room is dimly lit, with a large screen positioned to give you a clear view. As the technician applies the cool gel to your belly and begins the scan, Tony grips your hand tightly.

“There’s the baby,” the technician says with a smile, pointing to the image on the screen.

You and Tony both lean forward, mesmerized by the sight of your little one moving around.

“Everything looks great,” the technician continues. “And… if you’re ready, I can tell you the gender.”

Tony’s fingers tighten around yours, and you can feel the tension in the air. “We’re ready,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The technician smiles and turns to look at you both. “It’s a boy.”

Your breath catches, and you glance at Tony, whose face is a mixture of awe and joy.

“A boy,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re having a boy.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch the screen. “Liam,” you whisper, the name you’d been toying with finally feeling real.

Tony leans over and kisses your temple, his lips lingering for a moment. “He’s going to be perfect,” he says softly.

The news of Liam’s gender spreads quickly, thanks to Tony’s inability to keep anything a secret. Within hours, the Avengers are calling and texting, all of them eager to congratulate you and ask about baby names.

“Are you sure you don’t want a gender reveal party?” Tony asks a few days later, holding up a brochure for some extravagant event planner he’s clearly already been in touch with.

You give him a look. “Tony, I don’t need fireworks and a light show to announce we’re having a boy.”

“But think of the drone possibilities,” he says with a grin.

You shake your head, laughing. “How about we just tell people? Like normal humans?”

“Boring,” he mutters, but he lets it go, content to simply bask in the excitement of preparing for Liam’s arrival.

As the weeks pass and your belly grows, you start noticing the changes in your body more acutely. You’ve always been confident, but pregnancy has brought a whole new set of challenges. Your back aches constantly, your feet swell, and your once-favorite outfits no longer fit.

One evening, you’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, studying your reflection. Your belly is round and prominent now, and you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I look like a balloon,” you mutter under your breath, running a hand over your bump.

“What did you just say?” Tony’s voice startles you, and you turn to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, but he’s already walking toward you.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone serious. “You don’t look like a balloon. You look… incredible. You’re growing our son. Do you have any idea how amazing that is?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I just don’t feel like myself anymore.”

He steps closer, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you to face him. “You’re still you. You’re strong, beautiful, and the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. And if you don’t believe me…”

He trails off, reaching into his pocket.

“Tony, what are you—”

But before you can finish your sentence, he’s kneeling in front of you, holding a small velvet box.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the one thing I know I got right is loving you. You’ve given me so much—your trust, your love, and now, our son. I don’t want to waste another second without making this official.”

He opens the box to reveal a stunning engagement ring, the diamonds catching the light.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

Tears fill your eyes, and for a moment, you can’t speak. But then you nod, a smile breaking through your tears. “Yes,” you whisper.

Tony grins, sliding the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you into a gentle hug, careful of your belly.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice full of emotion.

“I love you too,” you reply, resting your head against his chest.

As he holds you close, you can’t help but think about how far you’ve come—from heartbreak and doubt to this moment of pure joy. And as Liam kicks gently in your belly, it feels like a promise of all the good things yet to come.

I'm so sorry if the ending sucks :(

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