#and i tried just tale a break from everyone and it just makes me feel worse

[hyperexplosion]

I don't want bother friends with a vent so I am here

[brunchable]

Ouch, My Face | Dad Bucky Barnes x f!reader x Bucky's daughter.

Pairings: Dad!Bucky Barnes x f!reader x daughter

Themes: Funny as in Bucky's reaction. Mentions of school teasing/bullying.

Summary: You and Bucky have been called to the Principal's office because your daughter Bianca hit another kid with her lunchbox.

A/N: I just feel like Bucky would do something like this 😂. . .

The tension in the principal’s office is almost suffocating, the kind that makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat and wonder just how far you can push the limits before someone snaps. But not little Bianca Barnes. No, she sits perched at the edge of her chair, feet swinging, hands folded primly in her lap like she wasn’t just hauled into the principal’s office for smacking another kid across the face with a metal lunchbox.

Principal Torres clears his throat, looking between the three of you with a wary expression. “Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, I called you both in because there was an...incident today during lunch.”

You part your lips, half-ready to apologize profusely, when Bianca cuts in, her tiny voice bursting with righteous indignation.

“She started it!” Bianca’s face flushes red as she leans forward, eyes blazing. “That big girl said I was dumb ‘cause I can’t read good. She said, ‘I bet you can’t read what’s on my hand!’” Bianca mimics the older girl’s mocking tone, raising a tiny fist as if to make the same gesture.

Principal Torres blinks, bemused. “And what was written on the other girl’s hand, Bianca?”

Bianca takes a deep breath, throwing her arms wide. “‘Ouch, my face.’” That’s definitely not what was written on the girl's hand.

There’s a giant pause in the room as everyone processes that declaration.

“She called me a liar,” Bianca continues, steamrolling on as if she hasn’t just declared the most absurd statement. “She said, ‘No way, that’s not what it says, you��re so dumb you can’t even read.’ But I didn’t back down, no way.”

She shakes her head furiously. “I just thought, what would Daddy do?”

You shoot Bucky a sharp look, one eyebrow lifting as you slowly turn your head toward him. Bianca’s voice fades into the background as your expression narrows into something suspicious, your lips slightly pursed, eyes boring into Bucky as if silently saying, Did you seriously tell our daughter to hit someone?

Bucky shifts in his seat. From the corner of your eye, you see him glance sideways at you, his face stiffening as if he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His mouth twitches, the hint of a guilty smirk threatening to break through, but he tries his best to appear serious—innocent even. With a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, he mouths, What?

You don’t blink, your suspicion growing stronger. Slowly, you turn your gaze back toward Bianca, who is still animatedly recounting her tale. Then, as if you share one brain, you and Bianca both turn back to Bucky, the same unimpressed look mirrored on both of your faces.

Bucky’s stiff expression melts into a defensive half-smile, a silent plea of Don’t look at me like that. He shifts again, looking more and more like a kid caught sneaking candy before dinner.

You cross your arms, gaze flicking up and down his form, as if daring him to deny his involvement. Bianca stops speaking mid-sentence, noticing the way you and Bucky stare each other down.

“What?” Bucky finally mutters, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in the ghost of a smile.

“Daddy said the lunchbox was the best weapon,” Bianca pipes up suddenly, blinking innocently between you and Bucky.

Your eyes widen a fraction, and you turn fully in your seat to face Bucky. The look you give him then is one for the books—one brow arched high, chin tilted in that knowing way that says, I knew it!

“Then I hit her with my lunchbox!” Bianca declares triumphantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

You turn back to your daughter, jaw hanging open. “Bianca—”

“But she didn’t fall down,” Bianca mutters, clearly displeased. “She just went, ‘Ouch, my face,’ like I knew she would.”

Another pause.

You turn your head again, slowly this time, fixing Bucky with a narrowed look, one that screams This is your fault. He shifts slightly, schooling his expression into one of feigned innocence.

“Don’t look at me,” he mouths, raising his hands just the slightest, the picture of a man who isn’t at all responsible for his daughter’s violent sense of justice.

But the guilt is all over him. You recognize the barely concealed pride lurking in the corners of his eyes, the twitch of his lips threatening to curve into a grin. You narrow your eyes at him, exhaling sharply through your nose.

Principal Torres clears his throat again, and you snap your head back, trying to hide your own incredulity. “Mrs. Barnes, I think we need to have a discussion about—”

“About what?” Bucky’s voice is a lazy drawl, but there’s an edge to it, protective and almost daring. “Bianca defended herself against a bully.”

You shoot him a look, a clear not helping expression that Bucky answers with another side-along glance that’s almost sheepish. Sorry, he mouths, but it’s clear he isn’t.

“Mr. Barnes,” Principal Torres begins, clearly exasperated. “We’re not encouraging physical altercations as the first response here.”

“Sure, sure,” Bucky says agreeably, nodding along. “Just tell your kids to keep their hands to themselves. Then mine won’t need to step in.”

You groan softly, burying your face in your hands. Bucky’s gaze flicks over to you, and you can feel his amusement.

When you finally peek through your fingers, Bianca is still going on, explaining in minute detail how she calculated the exact swing angle of her lunchbox. You shoot Bucky one last look, shaking your head slightly.

He just shrugs with a grin that could only be described as smug.

You can’t help the exasperated smile tugging at your lips. “Bianca, honey,” you murmur gently, drawing your daughter’s attention. “Next time, let’s use our words first, okay?”

Bianca beams, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay, Mommy. But only if the words are really, really strong ones.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, and Bucky chuckles softly. That’s his daughter alright. Parenthood is going to be a long, long road, especially with the two of you.

[yandere-sins]

The Octopodes' Tale - Chapter I

First Chapter! I am excited since we are meeting someone for the first time and get to make a new decision :3 Thank you everyone who promptly voted, I think we can do it with the three day polls ♥ Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Octopus Mermen x GN!AFAB!Reader Words: ~3k  Warnings: Yandere, Monsters (Tentacels, Oversized Mention, Mermaids, Monster Appearances), Violence (Thrashing Underwater, Almost Drowning, Panic), Fear of potential harm to human/animal, Long Post

You’ve made the right choice, human. I shall wait for my beloved’s return, so don’t forget your promise to me as you get to know and care for him in my stead until then!

Letting your head fall into your palm, you rubbed the tension points on your temple and forehead. It was hard enough to focus on the small script and the countless pages, so a headache wasn’t exactly helpful for the task. You had to keep reminding yourself to focus as your thoughts trailed off, your mind imagining strange voices speaking to you just so it could escape the exhausting task of reading the contract. You would have just up and left if you knew just how extensive and partly incomprehensible the contract was. With all the jargon embedded in it, who knew what you were really signing off on with it.

The clacking of a fresh glass of water being placed in front of you barely tore you out of the focus you tried desperately to hold on to. You merely mumbled, “Thank you,” and reached for it, taking a swig from the glass. With a sigh, you set it back down on the table, realizing how much you needed it. In fact, your body was already screaming for you to get up and walk a bit, maybe even go to the toilet and grab a snack afterward. By making sure everything was in order on the bureaucracy side, you had managed to neglect yourself completely, and you were now paying the price with your shoulders and neck aching from sitting and hovering over the contract for too long. 

Leaning back, you decided it was time for a much-needed break. With a sudden, energized jolt, you jumped to your feet, stretched towards the ceiling until you could hear your bones and muscles pop back into place, and turned towards the door. Walking over the pool to reach it, you peered into the water below your feet as it swayed calmly. There was no sign of your potential future protégé. Fine with you, after all, octopodes liked to hide. Yet, when your hand reached for the handle of the door leading outside the enclosure, gripping and pushing it down, for some reason, it wouldn’t budge. 

Furrowing your brows, you gave it a shake, and another one for good measure. “What the…” you mumbled, trying to open the door unsuccessfully. Looking up from the handle, you looked around to see any indicator of it being locked, until your eyes fell on a number pad to your left. Its numbers had a green glow all around them, proving they were active, and you realized only now that naturally they’d close off a room with a precious specimen inside. However, locking you in with the specimen seemed somewhat dangerous. 

Trying your luck, you pushed in the most basic codes you knew, like 1111 and 1234. You tried to remember if the Professor said anything about this specimen’s number or maybe the enclosure number that could work as a code, albeit much too easy to guess.

“7945,” you heard someone say behind you, and you promptly pushed it in, the known sound of correctness followed by the door unlocking, filling you with the feeling of accomplishment. You whirled around, starting to say, “Thank you!” again when your eyes met those of half a face peeking out of the water, gleaming with curiosity. 

You gasped loudly, your back hitting the cold wall behind you, and you even bumped your head. The creature made a small squeak, eyes widening before they let go of the pool’s edge they had held onto and slipped back into the water. It all happened so quickly that you wondered if you had just imagined it or hit your head too hard, so it was just an illusion. Your scientific instinct, trained from curiosity, the years of studies, and doing minor field work, prompted you to step up to the pool and look into it, ensuring that whatever lurked inside wasn’t as human as it had looked. But for some reason, your body protested. 

As soon as the door opened, you slipped out, slamming your hand against the number pad to initiate closing again before pressing your body against the wall on the other side, watching as nothing seemed to come after you. Your knees shook as if you had just been on the run, your body sending inexplicable signals of fleeing despite this facility being one of the safest places on earth. However, the mere glimpse of the bright yellow eyes beneath an unnatural shade of red surrounding them had been enough to send you running. Even your brain had trouble processing what it had seen, and you felt the headache throb as you strained yourself. 

Maybe you truly had just imagined it. 

Perhaps you were in dire need of getting some help with your basic necessities. Some fresh air, some food, and water. It felt like you had to walk a small eternity until you bumped into another person who pointed you towards the staffroom. Greeted by snacks and drinks for the employees, you immediately felt better, and some other researchers picked up a conversation with you until your headache was almost forgotten. It was exactly the break you needed, and yet, you felt yourself slowly space out while a possible future colleague of yours monologued about the new aquatic plants they acquired for their research. 

Holding a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in your hand, you watched the color slosh back and forth, images of red and yellow hitting you again and again. So many strange things had already happened since you came here, including the peculiar NDAs, secretiveness, and voices you had heard. Someone brought you water, but you hadn’t even noticed someone coming or going from the room that was apparently locked and deadbolted without the right passcode. 

Your eyes widened.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” you mumbled, leaving the puzzled researchers and your half-full glass of juice behind as you hurried out of the recreation room. That’s right, you thought. Someone did bring you water, and you drank from it. It had definitely been real. And if that was the case, then someone was with you in that room, which meant it was dangerous for either them or the giant octopus living there. If something happened to either, not only would it put your potential new job in danger, but it was also possible that it would be blamed on you. 

Hurrying down the corridors you came from, you tried to stop yourself from thinking about how much it would cost if they sued you for the death of a very delicate specimen. Even more so, the death of a human. Despite still being a rookie, you had the potential skills and knowledge to avoid potential harm, and you doubted anyone could have gotten back as fast to the enclosure as you had if you had to explain what was going on first. 

You almost missed your destination, coming to a fumbling stop when you reached the door. With all the adrenaline rushing through you, you punched the numbers into the number pad, not waiting for the door to open fully until you squeezed through the gap.

“Hello? HELLO!” you yelled into the giant enclosure, hoping to receive some kind of verbal feedback on where the other person could be. “Is someone there?!” 

Panicked, you ran across the walkway and to the other side, checking behind the working surfaces and machinery if someone was taking shelter, perhaps hurt or unconscious. But even after searching every nook and cranny, you found no one, the first rational thoughts returning to your mind as you wondered if you had imagined it after all. Suddenly, you heard the water splash loudly, and immediately raced back to see what was happening. Countless bubbles were going to the surface until suddenly, glaringly red tentacles shot out from them, the color a clear warning sign. Whatever was going on inside the pool, the octopus was either warning or fighting, its arms trying to find something to hold on to as if it wanted to pull itself up. 

To you, it looked like a struggle.

Without a second thought, you shrugged off your jacket and dove off the edge. The water pressure threatened to rob your lungs of all the air in them, but you prevailed. You used to train both your lung capacity and your swimming skills once you determined that marine biology was the job you wanted to pursue. After all, you never know what kind of situation you’d get into when researching. Still, the water stung in your eyes as you tried to keep them open, countless bubbles hitting your face and obscuring the view. 

You had to admit to yourself that it was reckless. Jumping into the habitat of a possibly dangerous creature without telling anyone, but you couldn’t have forgiven yourself if you didn’t try to save either of the two that needed rescuing. Even beneath the surface, you could hear the struggle, the loud whizzing of the arms through the water. You managed to avoid being hit by them for a long time, quickly descending towards the ground where you assumed the creature was. But when you suddenly felt a weight wrap around your ankle, sticking to your wet clothes, you realized your mistake. 

Your lungs tightened as they braced for impact that never came. You expected to be slammed down to the ground, now that the tentacle had latched on to you. From then on, it would be a matter of very few time if you could survive this. If the octopus was nice enough to let you go, you could have potentially breeched the surface when you were about to lose all the air left in you, but if it was panicking, you’d probably get stuck or attacked down there for too long, unable to save anyone after being the one in a predicament. 

Hands clasped over your mouth, you pressed your eyes shut, tensing all your muscles to survive the crash, but instead, the water suddenly calmed. You felt fewer bubbles caress you as the world quieted. Only the tentacle remained where it had first latched on, wrapped tightly around your ankle as you slowly opened your eyes. 

Only to find two bright yellow ones staring back at you. 

Out of surprise, you gasped, water suddenly flooding into your well-protected mouth as if you had forgotten where you were. You immediately shut it again, but the damage was already done as you had inhaled the water, unable to cough it up. Panicked, your body began to struggle. The years of training to stay calm seemed forgotten as you wanted nothing more than to get up and out of the water. You flailed wildly, staring upwards towards the ceiling light shining blurrily down into the water as the last bits of air rushed out of your mouth. 

Two big hands wrapped around your face, keeping your head steady as your heart skipped a beat. The touch was gentle, although you felt the resistance all around you. Was the octopus about to crush your head? Wait, hands?!

Next you knew, lips sealed yours, tightly, the water from your mouth disappearing in exchange for fresh air. Bubbles surrounded you again, but you paid them no mind as you clung to the strange air supply, more and more tentacles wrapping around your body. You almost felt like you were going crazy as you forced your eyes to open again, peering at the shiny yellow ones across from you, half-lidded and so very human and so little octopus, even though the animal still clung to your body. 

A tongue entered your mouth, its tip exploring your teeth until its prodding abruptly made you flinch, the taste of blood filling your senses.

And all of a sudden, your head breached the surface, bouncing out of it with vigor. 

“There, there,” someone mumbled gently, a hand rubbing your back and patting it lightly as you started to cough violently. Being back in the air was hardly enough, as waves kept crashing into you and making you sputter. You oriented yourself briefly before swimming towards the edge, reaching out and clinging to it once you were near enough, the other person following you. Even now, you could still feel the octopus’s suction cups all over you, sometimes popping off and finding different places to wrap around, one tip slipping beneath your t-shirt, steadying you, but also clinging to your exposed back.

“I told you to be nice!” you heard a familiar voice shout from your right, and suddenly, two pairs of arms hooked beneath your shoulders, pulling you out of the water. Most of the tentacles popped off you, although some remained, holding on steady like the one around your ankle, and making it much harder to get you away from the pool. 

There was a clatter as someone dropped to their knees next to you, giving your back a few very hard slaps as you kept sputtering out water. “Are you alright?” someone asked, and you looked up for the first time, glimpsing into the worried eyes of some of the researchers you had met on your break. 

“Take it easy,” the person beside you sighed, and you gave them a quick glance, seeing the Professor’s tense expression. You nodded, slowly stumbling to your feet as everyone seemed to release some of the tension. 

“I’m glad we made it in time.” Holding out towels and medikits, the researchers scrabbled around you, assisting you and pulling up a chair for you to sit in, while the Professor got back on his feet with a groan, picking up his walking stick and shooting you one last worried glance before turning around. 

“Stop holding on to them!” he commanded, slamming his stick into the ground. But what should have sounded like wood clonking on metal made a squishy sound instead, followed by a yelp and the release of the last remaining tentacle around your ankle. “What in the world were you thinking, pulling them beneath the water?!”

Slowly, your strength returned, the adrenaline leaving you, and in its place, only exhaustion remained. But regardless, you looked up to the Professor, only now realizing that two armed guards stood on either side of him, weapons pointed towards the water, and there…

A young man, with uncanny yet recognizable features, cradled one of the red tentacles in his hands. 

He was gigantic, much bigger than all the men in this room. His slicked-back hair fell in fiery red strands around his face, elevating his golden eyes that stared at the Professor sulkily. However, his gaze occasionally went lower. Instead of the Professor, he was looking at you ever so often, his features growing a little less tense, but curious and perhaps a little worried. The tentacle in his hold still had the same angry or wary red tone as before when you thought the octopus was in danger, and it was held by his large hands, the very same palms that you remembered gently cupping your face before… before… he kissed you. 

It wasn’t the time and place to feel ashamed all of a sudden, still the heat rose into your face, and you quickly wiped the towel over it as if to dry your skin. It had been your first kiss, although you expected that to go wildly different. You felt crazy to think about that right now, when you should be more concerned about what was happening around you, and you pinched your thigh to regain your focus. 

“Something was happening, and I was just trying to help, I swear!” the man in the water claimed, his voice restless. “I was just protecting them, I didn’t want to hurt them! Please, you have to believe me, I’ve been so good all this time! I always listen to what you tell me...”

A wave of guilt washed over you as you felt responsible. Surely, it wouldn’t put you in a good light with the facility to tell them you acted on some crazy thoughts of yours and freaked out over apparently nothing. Everything was calm, even the octopus seemed to have settled again while all of you were talking. But with the man still in the water, he was still in danger, especially with guns pointed at him, making it almost impossible to move. 

“Excuse me?” you called out, having to clear your throat as your voice cracked after all the coughing. As you stood up, the worried researchers followed your movements closely, not wanting you to faint or collapse from the strain. There was a real possibility that in a minute, they’d regret being so worried about you after the ruckus you caused. You’d probably never shake off the incident when you started working here. You would always be remembered as that person who almost drowned on their first day. Some would think you were out for attention or simply annoying and unsuited for your position. But it still wasn’t right not to at least admit your part in all of this, right? Even if it felt silly and embarrassing, you had to do something!

Thoughts and reasoning as always, is welcome! ♥

[monstersflashlight]

Hi! I love your work!

I just wanted to share an imagine/idea that's been stuck in my head for almost a week. Ok, so.... ORCS..

Set in a fanatsy medieval era. Orcs invade the reader's village. Reader is spicy and tries to fight back, which catches Orc Chief's attention, so he takes them to his village/camp as his personal trophy. Reader tries to rebel, so Orc Chief "breaks & disciplines" them in front of his orc warriors. After that, he then let's his warriors have their turn with the reader multiple times while he watches from his makeshift throne of bones, and when they're done, Orc Chief scoops them up in his arms and carries them off to his abode

Yea. That's basically it. Big Orc chief and feisty reader with sprinkles of degrading and free use and whatever you think would add up to this scenario.

Punished by the commander

Orc x gn!reader || free use, (light) degradation, exhibitionism, voyeurism

“You are so cute when you try to be angry,” he says with a laugh, making your blood boil in a non sexy way.

You grab a stool and get it close to him, climbing over it so you are face to face. “Listen to me, I don’t care if you are a commander or whatever you want to be, I am not your slave. I am your fucking wife and I won’t be cleaning your messes.” He blinks, looking at you with surprise at your outburst.

“Is that so, little wife? You weren’t saying that when you were messy with my come,” he teases, still amused.

“You aren’t getting my pussy anytime soon if you don’t start cleaning after yourself!” You tell him, an accusatory finger pointing right at his nose.

You hear a couple chuckles behind you, and you are sure your screaming has gotten the attention of half the camp. “Stop it now,” he grunts, not amused anymore that his soldiers are laughing at him.

You don’t back down. “Are you going to clean after yourself?”

“Stop talking now or accept the consequences, wife.” You frown, pushing his chest lightly, not enough force to move him at all.

You should have guessed that would be bad, because in a blink he’s throwing you over his shoulder and ringing the bell. You know what that means… You are going to be punished in front of everybody. You try not to be too happy about it, your exhibitionist kink getting all kinds of excited about what you know it’s going to happen.

He walks to the main tent, and a bunch of orcs follow. He sits down, you on his lap, and rips your clothes off your body as you shiver in anticipation. Your legs are over the arms of the throne, and there’s a dozen of warriors staring at you, all of them already knowing what is going to happen. The commander’s wife is going to be reprimanded in front of everyone, and she’s going to end leaking come off her hole… as always.

Your husband probes your now exposed entrance, pushing your legs further apart as you try not to groan, and you almost succeed. But then he rubs your clit and you let out the most lewd sound, making everyone cheer in front of you. Your husband chuckles, his hand on your chest as he pinches your sensitive nipples.

Everyone is staring at your gaping hole, your husband grunting behind you as he takes his cock out and rubs it all over your wetness. The piercings on his shaft rub against your clit and you let out a whine that makes everyone looking laugh. You feel the embarrassment burning down on your tummy, but it only makes you want to grind harder against his dick.

He holds you still, his hands gripping your hips as he rubs himself against your exposed pussy. He doesn’t give you a warning before he’s pushing inside, grabbing your hips and grunting as he starts bouncing you on his dick until your legs are trembling. You come messily, gaining a loud cheer from everyone. But he’s not done, fucking you through at least another two orgasms before you feel the tell tale sign of his dick twitching inside of you.

The first shot of his come feels like hot lava inside of you, your forehead sweaty and your body tired as he fills your insides. And he’s still not done, you knew he wouldn’t be. You screamed at him in front of his orcs, and now he’s going to punish you with at least few hours of public fucking.

By the time he has filled you so many times you can’t count, the orcs in front of you are in a full bacchanal, fucking and drinking as some of them still stare at your gushing hole. Your husband pushes into you one last time, bouncing your body like a fleshlight over his length.

“I always like you best when you are dripping my come and too fucked out to argue,” he whispers against your ear, pulling his cock out and playing with the come leaking. He rubs it over your clit, making you whimper and pushes it back inside your pussy. “I’ll clean after myself, but don’t scream at me in front of my orcs ever again, understood?” He whispers, curling his fingers and rubbing your G-spot as you nod, your body melting against him as he keeps playing with your pussy in front of everybody.

[msbigredmachine]

☕Roman Reigns Menu☕

☕SIGNATURE DRINKS☕

Entangled

In a wealthy Hartford, CT suburb, two best friends fall into a tempting storm when a rich, devastatingly handsome man moves in next door. Wealthy, irresistible, and dangerously disruptive. Passion, jealousy, and chaos ignite…and nobody’s playing it safe. Based on characters from The Boy Next Door. [In progress]

Finding Angel (BRAND NEW)

In a world of bright lights, dark secrets, and sizzling chemistry, pro wrestling's biggest star finds his Angel. But as undeniable as their passion is, so are the obstacles threatening to tear them apart. [In progress]

The Boy Next Door

A sexy mysterious man is new in town…but mystery is not all he brings with him… (Co-written with @harmshake) AU romance/psychological thriller. [Completed]

Power Couple - The Series

They say, “Behind every great man stands a great woman”. But behind the Universal Champion and the Tribal Chief is a different breed of woman, a force of nature capable of bringing even the Head of the Table to his knees…and vice versa. [Completed]

Into The Deep End - The Saga

Sasha has always tried to play it safe, to keep her life as simple and risk-free as possible. Things change, however, when she garners the interest of a handsome, charming, younger man from a completely different world than hers. As she starts to question her own rules, is she ready to take the biggest chance of them all? Will she let herself take that dive? My very first Roman fic set circa 2014. [Completed]

Targets 

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organization The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted. (AU Espionage Story)  [Completed]

Roman & Jaida: The We Are Series 

He’s not her most favorite person in the world, but she finds it in her heart to be there for him in his time of need. In return, he shows her just how much he appreciates it. Set around the events of the 2015 Royal Rumble and the Blizzard Raw the night after. [Completed]

You Consume Me

She was beautiful, tempting, carefree, and everything I thought I wanted in a woman. One taste and I was hooked, abandoning everything and everyone I cared about to be with her. What I failed to see was the other side of her; a side that was dark, dangerous…Deadly.  [Completed]

Come What May 

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. So why did she feel like she was making the biggest mistake of her life? (Roman Reigns/OC/Tama Tonga)  [Completed]

☕DOUBLE SHOTS☕

You Again 

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series [Completed]

Talking Body 

Photoshoots, lingerie and a long overdue baecation are in store for Roman and Gia heading into their five-year(ish) anniversary. Let’s hope it all goes off without a hitch. [Completed]

☕SPECIALTY BREWS☕

Co-Star - Juliana “Juju” Hamilton, a celebrated TV star, and Roman Reigns, a former WWE icon stepping into his first major acting role, play star-crossed lovers on a hit series. But as they prepare to film their first sex scene, the lines between fiction and reality begin to blur.

Off The Record - When passion gets recorded, it becomes the hottest track of the year. Roman/Black Fem Rapper!OC

Midnight Sparks - On New Year’s Eve, the OTC retreats to a quiet bar, craving solitude. When a confident and captivating woman crosses his path, their connection ignites, turning a quiet night into something unforgettable.

Nothing Left - The tale of a marriage built on trust, torn apart by lies, and a woman’s breaking point that should never have been reached.

Handsy - When the OTC asks for help and you oblige him, he’s very happy to return the favor.

Behind The Mask -  Sometimes love demands that you fight not for yourself—but for someone who can’t fight back.

Cheat Meal - The OTC is hungry for a whole lot more than just good food.

Butterscotch & Chocolate - What’s better than a hunky, rich and powerful Samoan boyfriend? Why, two, of course! (Roman Reigns/OC/The Rock)

Kitty Kat - After a lifetime of searching, the Tribal Chief may have finally found the woman of his dreams. Post-Summerslam 2024.

Black Sweatpants - Why did the Tribal Chief arrive late to the Pat McAfee Show? Based on Roman’s appearance on March 22 2024.

Checkmate - The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Santa Daddy🎄- All the Tribal Chief wants for Christmas is you.

Sugar & The Chief - Reader is a best-selling erotic author reflecting on the success of her newest novel, which is based on her secret affair with the man who became her muse.

Say Cheese - A steamy after-work rendezvous with the Tribal Chief and his princess is captured in 4K. 

In Peace - When one of the Wiseman’s incessant phone calls comes at the wrong time 🙄.

Here With Me - As the Bloodline Civil War takes an unexpected turn of events, Reader comes up with the perfect pick-me-up for her Tribal Chief. Post-Summerslam 2023.

M.K.A.M. (My Kinda Morning) - Who says birthday sex has to end after the birthday?

Dirty Little Secret - They are each other’s escape, too good to let go of. Until they have to let go.

I Still Heart You - This year, Valentine’s Day takes an interesting turn for two exes.

Latch - The most meaningful conversations take place in the shower. 

Daddy The Sub - The Tribal Chief comes home to receive his punishment.

Feedback - The Tribal Chief loves it when you tell show him how much you like his promos. Set after that epic unification contract signing segment of Feb 25, 2022

Sex On The Beach - Remember that “Running Around Naked” promo the Tribal Chief cut some months ago? Well, this is exactly what happened on the private island…in my mind at least.

Boss Lady - It’s always good to have a close working relationship with your boss. But what if you want to be closer? More importantly, what if the feeling is mutual? AU.

I Won’t Let You Fall -She was ready to give up on herself, but one man had to let her know he was not ready to lose her, even if it meant revealing a certain secret he’d kept to himself for years. 

Gold Digger - Roman is having a hard time getting rid of his gold-digging ex-wife. What exactly does he have to do to get her out of his life permanently? AU.

Believe - Still hurting from a nasty breakup, Livia is convinced that love does not exist. But Roman decides to prove her wrong…in the most romantic way possible.

The One That Got Away - On the biggest night of her career, Hollywood movie star Beverley Tyler looks back on what might have been. There are things more important than fame and fortune. Beverley learned that the hard way. 

The Mechanic - An impromptu trip to a service station leads to an encounter with a sexy mechanic. Her car isn’t the only thing he works on. AU.

☕ESPRESSO SHOTS☕

Kiss Me (200 Words in May Challenge)

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Credit to all the owners of the pictures and gifs.

Divider by @thecutestgrotto

Please don't steal my content. Thank you!

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Yuu’s Dad in Twst Wonderland Headcanons pt. 2

Pt.1 Pt.3 Pt.4

Heartslabyul, Octavinelle, Scarabia, and Pomefiore are genuinely the only dorms that respect your dad.

Savannaclaw keeps trying to fight him with the exception of Jack, Ruggie, and Leona.

Ignihyde fears your father. Mainly because your father thinks Idia is some form of a perverted weirdo.

🦀: Yuu, that weird boy is looking at you and your cat again.

🎮: Please let me touch your cat…

🦀:….I’m going to give you five minutes to get away from us.

Meanwhile, Diasomnia, is still amused your dad tried to beat up Malleus.

The core emotions and feelings of Diasomnia towards Yuu’s dad is the following:

Malleus: Amused and now takes gaining any sort of relationship with you as a challenge

Silver: A bit wary of your dad but still gets why he’s so protective over you

Sebek: Wants to beat him up for threatening Malleus and thinks he can win

Lilia: As a father he understands and is probably going to tell Malleus not to purposefully irritate your father for his own good.

After witnessing Riddle’s overblot, your father is convinced on staying at the Isle Sage’s hotel

Or maybe trying RSA

Whatever option comes first.

In fact, he actually tried to bolt out of NRC after the Savannaclaw overblot.

🦀: Yuu! Yuu! Yuu, listen to me! These kids are not right in the head. A hyena furry boy was using magic to control people’s bodies so they fall down the stairs. For a school tournament! And the lion furry man, BY THE WAY, he is 20! He tried to turn everyone into sand!

🦐: Dad, please, they’re my friends and I give them comfort. Plus Riddle and Leona were having a mental health crisis.

🦀: These kids are serial killers or murders in the making! We should’ve ran when we found out they worshipped Disney villains!

You end up running out of NRC with your father with Grim, and by the time morning came, someone has already found you.

♥️: Yo. I heard Yuu was staying here now.

🦀: How did you find us?

♥️: Um…I had a bit of help…more like magic spell really.

Deuce, Epel, Jack, Silver, and Sebek step out from behind Ace.

🦀: *Sigh* Look, I get we teleported into your school, but we really don’t need to stay there-

🦐: Dad, can’t I attend school there until we go home? It’s perfect.

🦀: They literally don’t even have a girls bathroom for you to use.

🦐: Doesn’t matter. I can use the bathroom when no one is in there.

Then things heat up when Malleus appears.

🐉: There you are, Child of Man. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.

🦀: Let me guess, you didn’t see her inside her room when you floated by? Like you usually do when you think no one notices?

🐉: Child of Man, would you like to go to my gargoyles club meeting? It’s really only me, but together we can bring more people.

🦀: That is the worst lie for a date I’ve ever heard. Also, her name is Yuu not Child of Man. And this Man is named F/N. Besides, we still don’t know your actually name Hornyton.

The mocking of the nickname Yuu picked out for him causes him to get upset. Which inadvertently activated the fairy tale fae behavior.

🐉: You know, a name is a very important thing to give away. If I give my name to you, you must give something to me.

🦀: You realize I can just break into Crowley’s office and get your school records or just ask anyone what your name is, right?

🐉: Perhaps, your daughter might be something of equal value to give. My name for a girl with an otherworldly name. I assure you I’ll treat her well if you give her to-

Your dad punches Malleus square in the nose and KOs him.

⚡️: WAKA-SAMA!

❤️&♠️: Damn.

🗡️: I told him not to make being in a relationship with Yuu a challenge.

🍎: Nice right hook.

🐺: What good form.

Your dad shuts the door, and packs up your stuff again.

You move back into Ramshackle the next day, but this time there’s iron hanging around the doors and windows.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Hi there!

This is all I read this month, listed more or less in chronological order. I loved all those fics, read new authors and I was so thrilled about it, found familiar comfort in someone else, tried my best to keep this various and not only Joel Miller (I read a lot of Dieter this month and I never do that sooo. Also welcome in my dreams, Clint Flood, it's been amazing to meet you), as usual I'm still far behind in my tbr. *cries in Italian* Some fics are from my challenge, I listed them here as well because I loved everyone's dedication and I loved those stories. Read warnings and tags and if something is not for you just skip it, it’s simple and it can be done just by scrolling. I'm not responsible for the kind of content you choose to consume, only you are. If you're a minor, just stay away from my blog and this list. Please make sure to give love and appreciation to these authors, they're out there writing and delivering all these amazing stories for free! Reblog, comment, make some noise! Delicacies under the cut, bon appétit!

All my previous recs can be found here.

Edited because I’ve lost a couple of things around 🥲

❥ I feel you - @80ssong no outbreak Joel x female inexperienced reader

❥ The payout - @yxtkiwiyxt I Series Masterlist Clint (Freaky Tales) x f!reader Clint, a retired “tough guy” for hire, gets lured back into the game with a lucrative job offer: one last job for a life-changing payout. $5 million dollars. However, his plans take a twist when he meets you—his new neighbor who makes him question… everything.

❥ She’s a rainbow - @milla-frenchy Joel Miller x f!reader Joel returns after a long patrol and you greet him with a surprise

❥ Due - @cas-readsandwrites

Un named Pedro boy x f!reader

You're dancing with a handsome young man - and you shouldn't be. But is it really what it looks like?

❥ Safety Net part 1 - @gothcsz and @ovaryacted | Series Masterlist Sugar Daddy!Marcus Acacius x BIWOC!Sugar Baby!Reader Marcus Acacius finds more than what he expected on a sugar dating app.

❥ Communication breakdown - @cuppajoel Clint (Freaky Tales) x F!reader

❥ Say Ahh - @mushgloomz // Dead Dove Do Not Eat dentist!dave york x patient!reader (gender neutral)

❥ Did you miss me? - @yxtkiwiyxt Clint Flood x f!reader Clint returns after a week away for work, and you're fucking pissed because he didn't bother to call you even once. But now, all he wants is to be close to you, and he's got that irresistible way of turning things around and getting back in your good graces…

❥ Clint gets cock worshipped - @almostempty Clint Flood x f!reader

❥ Got muscle? - @clubsoft Clint Flood x f!reader clint looks good in his old t - shirt , too good .

❥ Cherry lips - @aurorawritestoescape Clint Flood x f!reader Clint and you have a simple relationship - you fuck each other and go on with your lives. Can it stay that way? What if one night changes everything?

❥ Distraction - @baronessvonglitter Dave York x f!reader You and Dave are finding it hard to forget that one night.. and a chance encounter gives you both a second opportunity..

❥ You oughta know - @milla-frenchy Clint Flood x f!reader after your ex breaks your heart yet again, you ask your dad’s best friend for a favour

❥ Without chains - @604to647

Pero Tovar x Chinese Fem!OC Reader

You help Pero shave in preparation for his journey back West with William.

❥ You ain't falling asleep again - @myownwholewildworld an old man!Joel Miller Drabble

❥ Sunrise - @tateypots Joel Miller x f!reader You love the sunrise, but it’s even better with Joel.

❥ Poison either way - @guiltyasdave Dave York x f!reader x Javier Peña Agent Peña walks in on you and Dave taking a bit of an... unusual break.

❥ Friend zone - @milla-frenchy Tim Rockford x fem!reader an event leads your best friend to reveal a secret he's been keeping from you for years, and you finally find what you've been searching for

❥ Stretched - @mandaloriankait Reed Richards x reader

❥ Little showgirl - @604to647 Modern AU Marcus Acacius x f!reader You do your roommate a favour that lands you in hot water with the head of security at Caesar’s Palace.

❥ Star-crossed - @baronessvonglitter Dieter Bravo x gn!reader On a shoot in Italy, Dieter has one of the worst weeks of his life. Perhaps one unselfish act can turn all that around..

❥ Cerchiamo insieme tutto il bello della vita (Let's look together for all the beauty that there is in life) - @maroonpascal Javi Gutiérrez x f!reader it’s summer and as every year it is time for your annual trip with your best friend, not knowing that this time you will come back home with a lover

❥ Coraline - @tateypots Protective Frankie Morales x wife f!reader

❥ For emergencies only - @myownwholewildworld oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader joel has a lil' accident, but you know exactly how to help. or joel cums in his boxers a bit too early and you feed him a blue pill for endurance.

❥ In this world of heroes - @joelalorian Marcus Moreno x f!reader Amid a brutal battle in Florence, Marcus Moreno realizes his heart belongs to you, a fellow Heroic. After the fight, he finally tells you the truth he's kept hidden for far too long.

❥ Chupa mi verga- not his - @stitch-away // tw:stepcest Javier Peña x male reader x Joel Miller the miller's have invited you over for one of their neighbourhood barbeques. old man miller is a flirt and your abuelo hates it

Hungry man (Chapter 2 - God the animal ) - @slimybeth69 dark&sneaky!Joel x unhinged&crazy!reader “…made me think about what it would be like if God the animal bit me with his razor-sharp fangs. God has huge poisonous fangs and he loves to bite people who follow the rules. If you follow the rules, God's going to kill you with his long teeth ; and I love knowing that.”

❥ Lunch in an elevator - Where Marcus met Cat // Part 2 of "The Assistant From Hell" - @baronessvonglitter the story of how Marcus met Cat

❥ Stumbling - @nonbinairyboi Francisco “Catfish” Morales x disabled!afab reader Frankie’s support is necessary when your symptoms flare.

❥ Starstruck - @clubsoft Dieter Bravo x bipoc!F!reader dieter eats his co-star in a field .

❥ I think of you all the time Part 1 and Part 2 - @schnarfer // Series Masterlist Young Dieter Bravo X f!reader Best friends to lovers, to worse.

❥ D X C - @whocaresstillthelouvre Bodyguard Clint Flood x Dieter Bravo x female reader Clint walks in on you and Dieter in a particular situation and decides to join in.

❥ Paying off the debt - @baronessvonglitter Joel x fem!plus size!reader x Clint when your husband doesn't pay his debt, the two men coming to collect decide on a different form of payment

❥ In need of a top up - @tateypots //tw: lactation kink No outbreak!Joel Miller x wife!reader It's Joel's turn for a top up so you pay him a visit at work.

[nawoken]

(Mermay) Pearl Drop

5.C: Ơ w Ơ

In Twst, they have all kinds of fairy tale creatures, beastmen, merman, fae... Basically, it's not really a rare sign for them. In our world, we don't have that kind of luxury, but we have all those mythical stories or fairy tale stuff.

So, I have always wanted to write something about the idea of a mer! reader from another world. They are always told to be aware of humans by the elders, as they believe that eating merman meat will make them immortal. Or a rumor that a mermaid can cry out pearls, which is kinda true in this story.... etc :))

Warning: None... I guess?

Pairing: TWST x GN!Reader

(If you find anything that specifies Reader gender, please tell me so I can fix it.)

You don't hate humans. In fact, you find them somewhat fascinating, curious, and admiring of their world and how they create their quirky stuff. But, the story of the older mers holds you back, you're still scared, afraid that they will cut you up and devour you to get a hold of the immortal title.

It's better nowadays when you guys even have a whole network on the land for those mers who want to try, blending in with the human, as long as your identity remains a secret. You sign up for a spot among them, doing pretty well, the whole blending in and keeping a secret. Until...

Ơ w Ơ

After being transported to Twisted Wonderland, you still keep secret about your identity... or you just do not mention it.

Despite, merpeople are normal in this world, your species still has a few differences. Aside from you can change between forms without a transformation potion, you can cry pearls. Yes, a few mystics about your being is true, but no, eating mer's meat won't make anyone immortal.

Up until you can't anymore, you're not fully grown yet, far too young compared to the mer's age. So, your connection with your home ocean is stronger than that of a grown adult mer. Causing you to change uncontrollably when you're away from the water for too long.

You try to submerge yourself in Ramshakle's extremely small and uncomfortable bathtub, even adding sea salt to mimic the oceanic water. This can only delay the effect for a little more time.

Started from once a month to once a fortnight, a week, then recently, you have to soaking every single day to not turning into a fricking fish in front of everyone. You even sneak to Octaville once or twice, risking being caught by the twins.

But it feels wrong, this is not your home sea, you can feel it calling for you to come home... F***

~~~

You're running through the hall, almost bumping into a few students, but you manage to get past them by some miracle. You just finished your last exam, and due to being busy, studying for all of them, you've denied your need for a few days now.

Right now, you really need to have a long bath. No, you want to bathe yourself in the salty sea water of your home. But, you don't have much choice right now, do you?~

You turned around the corner, dodging a small familiar figure on the way while yelling out an apology. The Ramshackle feels so far away.

"PREFECT!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! ONE SHOULD NOT RUN THROUGH THE HALL, YOU MIGHT HURT YOURSELF AND OTHERS."

A sudden voice echo right behind you from the red head, well, it seems like today it's not your lucky day. Riddle is right after your tail right now. Command you to stop running.

You don't. You tried to yell back some apologies, and that you're in a hurry. But he won't let you, his friend, break some rule in front of this many students.

Part of you just wants to give up, turning into a fish and splashing them with your tail, releasing all your frustration in these recent days. But well, your more reasonable side holds you back, what a shame, really.

~~~

Now, almost every student in the school witnessed you running through the hallway while being chased down by Heartslabyul's Housewarden.

Which is a surprise since normally, the one who is being screamed at and chased down is Ace. And this definitely piques some people's interest.

It's gotten worse when you pass by Floyd, and he decides to join in, cause he thinks that you and Riddle are playing catching without inviting him :)

You can feel your skin, your throat, and your mouth getting drier as time passes by. It's not a pleasurable feeling if you have to be honest. It feels like you're lost in the middle of a desert without any water, helpless.

~~~***~~~

The consequence of not paying attention to your surroundings is that you bump into other people. Specifically, Sebek.

He successfully catches your forearm before your butt contact with the floor. But it didn't mean he won't scold you for running around, making the school ground a dangerous place for his waka-sama...

You can't even make sense of his words at this point, when your mind went blank, and your vision slowly blurred. You would have been sprawling on the ground if Sebek hadn’t caught you.

You can hear your friends rushing toward you, calling out your name. But the agony pain from being forced to transform is too much for you to do anything else.

The next thing you know, after the pain fades away, is the dumbfounded face of your friend and the itching of your scale from the lack of water.

Well, guess, this is your doom.

~~~***~~~

5.C: Eyo~

It's been quite a while since the last time I actually posted something about my idea or writing. I don't really have the motivation, even when I still have some drafts lying around and waiting for me. Sorry, guys, people, human... Ehe :3

Aside from motivation, I also have a hard time writing fic in English since this is not my mother language. And every time I try to type my thoughts down, it doesn't show them the way I picture them... If you understand what I mean :'D

Anw, bye-bye human!!!

P/s: I got both Jade's and Floyd's mer cards in Eng server!!! Hurayyy~

:3

[discountlittlebro]

Another little brother/middle sib/big brother

Big brother who is at the end of his rope. He’s tired and exhausted and has sooo much to do, his assignments are really piled high right now, and he’s doing his best to make time for his little brother still. But the little brat doesn’t seem to think it’s enough. He’s laying in his big brothers bed, pouting and complaining about how his big brother is soooo neglectful, how he’s so sad because big brother isn’t giving him enough, as if he didn’t give him three orgasms last night.

“And it’s just really mean! Cause I woke up today, and you weren’t there! I woke up alone! And when I found you, I didn’t even get a good morning kiss or nothin! It’s like you don’t even care about me anymore”

Oh. Oh that does it. Big brother has been hunched over his desk, squinting at the words on his computer screen for four fucking hours. His head hurts and he’s tired but he made sure to do his assignments when his little brother was asleep so he could give him those damned orgasms. And now he has the audacity to complain that he doesn’t care about him?

In the back of his mind he can hear their middle sibling taunting him, telling him it’s his own fault for spoiling the baby. They tried to warn him multiple times and he didn’t listen, always making excuses about how it’s cute that his little brother is so clingy and wants attention, he loves how much his baby needs him. But he’s obviously let it go too far.

He can barely see when he whips around to the bed, vision still blurred from being so close to the screen for so long, and the lack of sleep. He stumbles over to the bed, like a drunk man and falls onto the cushions on it. Hes leering over his little brother, eyes and expression dark as his little brat blinks up at him oh so sweetly.

“I don’t care about you? Are you kidding me right now? Poor baby, did you not get fucked this morning, huh? That must be so hard for a little slut like you. To go one morning without my strap buried in your needy fucking cunt.” He grips little brothers face harshly, and he’s whining and trying to squirm away. “No no, don’t try to run away now. I thought you wanted to cum right? Need big brother to do it for you? Don’t worry baby, you’ll cum. I’ll make sure you don’t feel so neglected okay?”

And that’s exactly how his little brother ends up tied nice and tight in his bed, both holes filled with thick dildos that are just alittle too big and have him sobbing around the boxers in his mouth. The vibe tied to his thigh and pressed against his clit is background noise as big brother gets back to work on his assignments. Big brother doesn’t turn away from his laptop, only makes little tally marks on a paper when he hears the tell tale signs of another orgasm soaking his sheets. Only looks up when he hears his other sibling laughing in his door way.

“The last time I did this to him you had a fit, carried him out of my room cursing up a storm, remember? Big brother? I thought I was…what was the words you used? Being too mean to him, gonna break the poor baby?” They teased, but didn’t bother to help their little brother who was looking at them with tear filled pleading eyes.

Big brother sighs and shakes his head, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “Alright I was wrong! Okay? You were right. Can I do my school work now? College isn’t as easy as everyone seems to think.”

“Awww big brother, how’re you supposed to work when you’re all worked up like this? You know…you have more than one little sibling. Let me help you relax.” And they’re sliding down under the desk, between his legs.

And they both have to fight back the laughter bubbling in their stomachs when little brother starts yelling at them through his stuffed mouth. Glaring at them and squirming in the bed, muffled curses when Middle sib spreads big brothers legs and works out all his frustration with their tongue.

But they’re not cruel okay? When big brother cums all over his middles siblings tongue, they make sure to pull the boxers out of little brothers mouth so he can taste it himself off his middle siblings lips.

All dazed and red faced, panting like a dog and whining when they pull away. He doesn’t get a word out before middle sib shoves the boxers back in his mouth and pats his face.

“Ya know…he’s real whiney today. I could keep him occupied if you want, just while you finish your work.” And little brother can see the glint in their eye, he’s shaking his head but he’s not the one being asked.

“You sure? He’s real bratty today…it’d be a huge help but I don’t wanna overwhelm you with extra stuff today either.”

“Mhmm I don’t mind. I have some stuff planned for us to do, you love playing with me don’t you, baby brother?” And they’re gripping his hair and forcing him to nod. “Awww yeah, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Alright…if you’re sure. I owe you one.” Big brother is tapping at the keys on his laptop, and middle sib is undoing the rope around little brother, who instantly jumps up and tries to get to big brother, how predictable.

“Nope, no. Turn around. You can go to my room like a good boy, or you can go to your room and be all alone. Your pick, baby brother.” Middle sib is standing infront of big brother with their arms crossed, they know exactly how to handle their little brother and it shows when he shrinks and pouts, when he slowly turns and makes his way to their room instead of his own.

[neverheroes]

Here’s a bunch of stuff in the MM Tales of the TMNT comic-con sneak-peek I thought about too much!

They’ve cared so much about showing how differently they each react to and process the same situation.

Through the scene Raph is excited to tear things up and true to every iteration ever tries things his way until it doesn’t work, Don’s flight response pings into analyst mode and you just know he’s figuring out how to break stuff, Mike is thriving in team-mode and keeping them all on track, and Leo flails around like a giant ball of chronic anxiety before figuring out a plan. They’re original formula with gently new toppings and I’m ready for this slice.

Raphael

This guy! We get so much. He’s rearing to do some fighting that isn’t sparring and be free to do some actual damage. So we know he’s bored fighting is brothers and wants a challenge. He can’t handle this one and in figuring that out is “open to suggestions” which is quite the overlooked Raph quality, he’ll listen he just has to work through that impulsive reactive streak first. He’s strong and knows it, and that robot gets a harder fight. The Raph highlight for me was taking time while fighting to honour the time-old tradition of making fun of Michelangelo. <Sobs in last ronin.>

Donatello

This kid, man! It’s a long standing opinion of mine that everyone should be more scared of Donatello. His interest in understanding the threat overrides most of his fear. Cerebral af. This is his face most of the time while a robot programmed to obliterate him is directly behind him. On the surface it looks like he’s running away a lot, but he can’t exactly press pause on it to figure out how they work. His gentle heart characterisation is well intact, apologising to the robot when he damages it having already personified the thing. I honestly believe he would take it home like he’d found a new pet if that were an option.

Michelangelo

What a show of Mikey magic. He’s got the comedy relief on a casual setting with subtle jokes and unintentionally antagonistic observation style. Mike has a tiny attention span but is 100% in every moment and they draw a lot of attention to his speed and agility. He shines doing what Mikey is known so well for; keeping the family together. It was awesome to see him effectively orienting his brothers into the situation, and see them listen to him so readily. He still calls to Leo for guidance when he feels out of control, but we might be in for a more surprising personal arc than ~nobody takes me seriously~ this time around.

Leonardo

This is a blessing for Leo fans because MM Tales Leo sucks /srs. Not in the way Raph fans say it on Instagram posts, in the way that his flaws are so disparate from other versions that a mastery arc is screaming his nervous muppet name. The giftedness is still sewn in; even flailing around he has more advanced weapon control, is observant enough to be the right level of stressed when a threat shows up, and jumps into strategy finding a vantage point to make a plan like a good little Leo, but instead of our usual Leo trauma ball we (at least for now) get to watch a Leo with the confidence of a processed cheese slice be terrible at things because he’s just some kid…

Pfffffffahahhhahhahba

The Mutant Mayhem kids are the most realistically green (and by that I mean inexperienced) we've ever seen them and it's continued into Tales. With detaching from source origin and establishing a much more grounded reflection of teen life in the current world, the growth arcs over Tales and the next MM movie have such immense unburdened potential that it really could lead anywhere and I don’t know what to expect.

(Tales of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles will air in August 9th 2024 on Paramount+)

[amethystarachnid]

"Manifesting a Stark wedding and mini Starks immediately."

THIS IS SO REAL, MANIFESTING THE SECOND PART 🙏🏻

THE STARK REALITY (SHOW) - part 2

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Tony are getting married, so it's time to hold his promise and start a new reality show...with lots of plot twists

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think?

ᯓ★ Part 1

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

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

Two years.

Two years since The Stark Reality ended. Two years since Tony teased the world with talk of weddings and kids, leaving the internet in absolute chaos. Two years of you and Tony living your lives in relative peace—well, as much peace as you can get when dating Tony Stark.

And now?

Now, you’re about to break the internet again.

Because, without warning, without so much as a single leak, a brand-new reality show drops.

The Stark Wedding

The first episode airs unannounced on a Friday night, and the world loses its mind.

The intro alone is enough to send social media into a tailspin.

Tony stands in front of the camera in his usual smug, effortlessly charming way, arms crossed, that signature Stark smirk playing on his lips.

“Miss us?” he drawls, looking directly into the lens.

You’re sitting beside him, arms folded, shooting him an amused look. “Really? That’s how you’re opening this?”

“Absolutely.” He grins, reaching over to lace his fingers with yours. “It’s been two years. Thought we’d give you guys an update.”

You raise an eyebrow. “We?”

“Okay, I thought we’d give you guys an update.”

He turns back to the camera, smirk widening. “And what better way to do that than by showing you every little detail of how we’re planning the biggest, most extravagant, most ridiculous wedding of the century?”

You sigh. “I feel like I should clarify that it wasn’t my idea to film this.”

Tony squeezes your hand. “No, but you love me, so here we are.”

You shake your head, but there’s no hiding the smile on your face.

Tony looks back at the camera. “Welcome to The Stark Wedding—a reality show where I, a genius billionaire, somehow convince the love of my life to marry me on national television.”

Cue the opening credits.

And just like that, the internet explodes.

"THEY DID IT. THEY ACTUALLY DID IT. A REALITY SHOW ABOUT THEIR WEDDING. I CAN’T BREATHE."

"TONY STARK YOU ARE A DRAMATIC GENIUS AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT."

"The fact that this man teased it TWO YEARS AGO and actually followed through?? ICONIC."

"We went from The Stark Reality to The Stark Wedding. What’s next? The Stark Family with little mini Starks running around??"

The first episode is chaos—but it’s exactly what everyone wants.

It opens with you and Tony meeting with an over-the-top wedding planner, a woman who immediately realizes that organizing a Stark-level wedding is not for the faint of heart.

You, ever the voice of reason, suggest something relatively normal. A big wedding, sure, but not insane.

Tony?

Tony looks the planner dead in the eye and says, “How hard would it be to get fireworks shaped like our faces?”

You slap a hand over your face. “Tony—”

“What?” He gestures vaguely. “It’s our wedding. Go big or go home.”

The planner, to her credit, doesn’t even blink. “I can make it happen.”

And that’s how you realize you’re in way over your head.

The episode is a ride.

Tony suggests having Iron Man suits for all the groomsmen. You veto that immediately.

You pick elegant, tasteful floral arrangements. Tony tries to sneak in Stark Industries logos made of roses.

There’s a scene of you two cake tasting, where Tony very seriously insists that the cake should be at least five tiers high because, and you quote, “What’s the point of being a billionaire if you can’t have an unnecessarily large cake?”

The cameras catch every moment—the teasing, the bickering, the way Tony sneaks little kisses whenever he thinks no one is watching.

And the audience eats it up.

"THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER. TWO YEARS AND HE’S STILL COMPLETELY WHIPPED."

"No because Tony is SO unserious about this wedding but also so in love with her I’m crying."

"’Go big or go home’—sir, you’re already Tony Stark. How much bigger can you GO??"

"The chemistry is even better than The Stark Reality days. This show is gonna ruin me."

And it’s only the first episode.

Tony? Tony is thriving.

You catch him scrolling through reactions on his phone that night, smirking at all the chaos he’s caused.

“People are obsessed with us,” he says, clearly pleased.

You roll your eyes. “You say that like you didn’t plan for this exact reaction.”

He shrugs, setting his phone down before pulling you into his lap. “Hey, can you blame them?” He kisses your shoulder. “We’re very interesting.”

You shake your head, but you can’t argue.

Because as much as you protested, as much as you acted like filming another reality show was too much—you’re secretly having the time of your life.

You get to plan your wedding your way. You get to share the excitement with the world. And most of all, you get to do it with Tony.

And honestly? That’s all that matters.

Planning a wedding with Tony Stark is a nightmare.

A fun, chaotic, over-the-top nightmare.

It’s not that he doesn’t care—if anything, he cares too much. But in the most Tony way possible. Meaning, every decision has to be extravagant, ridiculous, or, in his words, "something only a Stark wedding could pull off."

The cameras are there, of course, capturing every insane conversation, every time you have to rein him in, and every moment when you both completely forget that the whole world is watching.

Like when you're sitting in the living room, flipping through invitations, trying to pick a design.

Tony flops dramatically onto the couch beside you, peering over your shoulder. "Boring. Too boring. Way too boring—oh, that one's not bad, but what if we made them holographic?"

You blink. "Holographic invitations?"

"Yeah," he says, like it's obvious. "Imagine it—someone opens the invite, and BAM! A tiny projection of me and you personally inviting them to the wedding."

You stare at him. "Tony."

He grins. "Genius, right?"

"Absolutely not."

The internet gets a kick out of moments like these.

"Tony Stark is the most extra fiancé of all time, and I love that for him."

"A holographic wedding invite??? Let the man COOK."

"I need Y/N to drop her patience routine because the way she handles him is ICONIC."

Then there’s the venue selection.

You originally had a normal idea—something elegant, something grand but tasteful. But, of course, Tony being Tony, the list of locations he provides is absolutely ridiculous.

A private island.

The top of the Stark Tower.

A literal castle in Europe.

A Stark-designed floating wedding platform above the ocean.

You almost have a stroke reading the list.

"Tony," you say slowly, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Do you understand that normal people get married in normal places?"

Tony shrugs, completely unbothered. "Yeah, and we are not normal people."

"We are not, but the wedding should be!"

"Disagree," he says. "The wedding should be memorable. Stark-level memorable."

The internet sides with him.

"THE FLOATING PLATFORM THO. I NEED IT TO HAPPEN."

"Let’s be honest, a Stark wedding HAS to be insane. I respect it."

"If they don’t get married in a castle, I’m rioting."

Eventually, you settle on a stunning cliffside estate with breathtaking ocean views, and Tony begrudgingly agrees, as long as he gets at least one insane element.

(You don’t know what that element is yet, but you know it’s coming.)

Then there’s the issue of your dress.

It’s the one thing you’re keeping a complete secret.

Not just from the cameras, but from Tony.

And it drives him insane.

The first time he asks, he plays it cool.

“So,” he says one evening while you’re finalizing fittings. “You’re really not gonna let me see the dress?”

You smirk. “Nope.”

He tilts his head. “Not even a hint?”

“Nope.”

A pause. Then he leans in, voice dropping. “Not even if I—”

“No.” You press a finger against his lips before he can try whatever he was about to say. “Not happening, Stark.”

And that’s the start of his mission.

Because from then on, Tony tries everything.

One night, he casually brings you a glass of wine, massages your shoulders, and then very sweetly asks, “Sooo… about the dress?”

You laugh. “Nice try.”

Another time, he attempts to bribe you.

“I will personally upgrade your entire wardrobe—custom designed—if you just give me a tiny detail.”

“Nope.”

“What if I—”

“No.”

At one point, he actually tries to hack into the bridal shop’s files.

Thankfully, FRIDAY blocks him before he can succeed.

“Sir,” FRIDAY says dryly, “Miss Y/N has specifically ordered me not to let you access this information.”

Tony groans. “Traitor.”

The internet loses it at his antics.

"THE WAY HE TRIED TO HACK INTO THE BRIDAL SHOP IM SCREAMING."

"Tony Stark acting like a child because he can’t see a dress is my new favorite thing."

"The man can build a metal suit but can’t crack his fiancée’s wedding dress secrets. HILARIOUS."

His last-ditch effort happens one night when you’re curled up in bed, half-asleep.

Tony, ever the opportunist, pulls you close, tracing lazy circles on your back.

“You love me, right?” he murmurs.

You hum sleepily. “Mmhmm.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “So you’d trust me with anything, right?”

“Of course.”

Another kiss, this time against your jaw. “Sooo… you could tell me about the dress.”

Even in your half-asleep state, you snort.

“Tony,” you mumble, “go to sleep.”

He groans dramatically. “Unbelievable.”

The cameras don’t catch that moment—but you tell the story later, and people eat it up.

"THE WAY HE TRIED TO TRICK HER WHEN SHE WAS HALF ASLEEP I CAN’T."

"Y/N: sleeps. Tony: This is my chance."

"Protect Tony Stark at all costs. The man is suffering."

Despite all the madness, the wedding is coming together.

There are moments—little ones, away from the chaos—where you and Tony completely forget about the cameras.

Like the time you're picking music for the first dance, and Tony, without warning, pulls you into his arms, swaying with you in the middle of the living room.

Or the time you're stressed about floral arrangements, and he just grabs you, dips you dramatically, and kisses you senseless until you're laughing.

Or the night before the big bachelor and bachelorette parties, when you're curled up together, and he murmurs against your hair, “You sure you wanna marry a pain in the ass like me?”

And you just smile, pressing closer. “Absolutely.”

Those moments? They belong to you.

The rest of the world may be watching, but at the end of the day, this is your love story.

And it’s perfect.

The world is watching.

Millions of people are tuned in, their eyes glued to screens, eagerly anticipating the moment Tony Stark finally—finally—says I do. The wedding is being streamed live, the most anticipated event of the decade, and yet, in this moment, Tony doesn’t care about any of them.

Because as soon as the music starts and you step into view, all he can see is you.

He swears he forgets how to breathe.

You look stunning. Absolutely, breathtakingly perfect. Your dress is everything he imagined and yet so much more, and it physically hurts that he had to wait this long to see it. The way the fabric flows, the way it hugs you in all the right places, the way you walk toward him like there’s no one else in the world—he’s done for.

And then you smile at him.

And that is what almost breaks him.

He has to blink rapidly, has to fight the lump in his throat, has to force himself to keep it together because Tony Stark does not cry at weddings—except apparently, when it’s his own.

Pepper, standing nearby as his best woman, leans in just enough to whisper, “Don’t you dare start crying, Stark.”

“Shut up,” he murmurs back, voice thick, eyes locked on you. “I can cry if I want to.”

The internet immediately notices.

—

"TONY STARK IS ABOUT TO CRY I REPEAT THIS MAN IS ABOUT TO CRY"

"THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER IM IN PAIN"

"IF TONY CRIES IM CRYING TOO"

—

When you finally reach him, your hands slide into his without hesitation, and he clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him standing. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and you squeeze his fingers in return, eyes shining with so much love it makes his chest ache.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He exhales a shaky breath, grinning. “Hey, future Mrs. Stark.”

The ceremony is perfect. The vows are heartfelt, the laughter genuine, and when Tony finally gets to kiss you—when he gets to hold your face in his hands and seal this moment—it’s electric. The world may be watching, but in this instant, it’s just you and him.

You’re married.

And that means the real party is just beginning.

—

The reception is pure chaos, exactly as expected from a Stark event.

The music is loud, the drinks are flowing, and Tony is in his element, working the room, grinning like he just won the lottery. Because he did. He got you.

At some point, he finds himself on the dance floor, his hands firmly on your waist as you sway together, pressed close, your wedding rings glinting under the lights.

“Did I mention how good you look today?” he murmurs against your ear.

You smirk. “Once or twice.”

“Not nearly enough,” he says, twirling you before pulling you back in. “You look so good, it’s actually unfair.”

You roll your eyes, but the blush creeping up your neck gives you away. “You’re not so bad yourself, Stark.”

He grins. “Damn right I’m not.”

The cameras catch every moment—the stolen kisses, the teasing whispers, the way Tony can’t keep his hands off you. Fans are losing their minds.

—

"THIS WEDDING IS EVERYTHING I WANTED AND MORE"

"TONY LOOKS SO IN LOVE IM GONNA CRY"

"THE DANCING SCENE OH MY GODDDD"

—

At some point, Rhodey and Happy pull Tony away for a toast, and that’s when he realizes something’s up.

Because you’re suspiciously missing.

He glances around, searching the room. “Where’s my wife?”

Rhodey smirks. “She’s got a surprise for you.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What kind of surprise? Because if it’s strippers, I—”

“I can assure you it’s not strippers,” Pepper interjects, amused.

Tony sighs dramatically. “Damn. I mean, I’d only accept if the stripper was Y/N, and only if it was private, so I’m the only one who gets to see—”

“You’re insufferable,” Rhodey groans.

A few moments later, the lights dim slightly, and then—

You appear.

Standing on the small stage, microphone in hand, smiling right at him.

His heart stops.

You give him a soft look before speaking into the mic. “So, I know Tony loves being the one with all the surprises, but tonight, I get to have one for him.”

He watches, utterly entranced, as you take a deep breath.

“There’s something I’ve been keeping to myself for a little while,” you continue, “and I figured… what better time to share it than right now?”

Tony leans forward slightly, eyes locked on you. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

You laugh, then, still holding the mic, you place a hand over your stomach.

And that’s when it clicks.

It takes him a second—his brain scrambling to catch up—but then it hits him all at once.

You’re pregnant.

He staggers.

Literally stumbles backward, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, hands in his hair because holy shit.

You giggle at his reaction, nodding just enough to confirm it.

The entire room erupts. Cheers, gasps, screams. Somewhere, Pepper is definitely wiping away a tear.

Tony?

Tony is frozen.

Then, all at once, he moves. Practically bolts toward the stage, barely making it up the steps before he’s grabbing you, kissing you so fiercely it takes your breath away.

When he finally pulls back, his hands frame your face, his eyes searching yours. “You’re serious?”

You nod, eyes shining. “Dead serious.”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes for Tony Stark, the man who once swore he’d never be tied down, to break completely.

He presses his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily. “Holy shit.”

You laugh softly. “Good surprise?”

He huffs out a breathless chuckle, his hands sliding down to rest over your stomach. “Best surprise ever.”

The cameras catch everything.

And the internet?

The internet shatters.

—

"Y/N IS PREGNANT OH MY GOD"

"TONY STARK IS GOING TO BE A DAD I AM NOT OKAY"

"THE WAY HE REACTED IM SOBBING"

"I THOUGHT THIS WEDDING COULDN’T GET ANY BETTER AND THEN SHE DROPPED A PLOT TWIST"

"DOES THIS MEAN THE STARK FAMILY REALITY SHOW IS NEXT???"

—

Tony does not let go of you for the rest of the night. His hand stays firmly over your stomach, his lips constantly finding yours, his eyes soft in a way the cameras never caught before.

He’s never been happier.

He has you. He has this future—your future.

And for once, he doesn’t care that the whole world is watching.

Because this?

This is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Pregnancy with Tony Stark is anything but normal.

For starters, he is convinced that you should not lift a single finger for the next nine months. The moment the news is out, he goes into full-on Stark mode, meaning he spares no expense in making sure you’re comfortable.

And by no expense, that means:

A custom-built pregnancy suite in the tower, complete with the most advanced medical technology and luxury furniture.

FRIDAY monitoring everything—your vitals, your stress levels, even your hydration.

A dedicated craving station in the kitchen stocked with anything you might want.

The cameras capture everything, of course.

Like the first time you wake up at three in the morning with a craving for something weird.

You shift in bed, sighing heavily. Tony stirs beside you, groggy. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “I really want pickles. And peanut butter.”

Tony blinks. Then, without a word, he gets up, throws on a hoodie, and leaves the room.

You frown. “Tony?”

“I’ll be back,” he calls over his shoulder.

The footage from that night becomes legendary.

Because the next thing the cameras catch is Tony, half-asleep, standing in the kitchen in pajama pants and a hoodie, making a sandwich with way too much peanut butter and an absurd amount of pickles.

FRIDAY, always watching, chimes in. “Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“FRIDAY, she wants this,” Tony grumbles, spreading the peanut butter aggressively. “If my wife wants peanut butter pickles at three AM, she gets peanut butter pickles at three AM.”

The internet loves it.

—

"TONY MAKING A PICKLE PB SANDWICH WHILE HALF ASLEEP IS KILLING ME"

"HE DIDN’T EVEN QUESTION IT HE JUST WENT"

"IMAGINE HAVING TONY STARK AS YOUR HUSBAND LIKE SHE IS LIVING THE DREAM"

—

It doesn’t stop there.

Anytime you so much as mention a craving, Tony is on it.

“Babe,” you say one afternoon, scrolling through your phone, “you know what sounds really good right now?”

Tony looks up from his laptop. “What?”

You hum. “Those tiny little powdered donuts.”

He closes his laptop immediately. “I’ll be back in ten.”

You laugh. “Tony, you don’t have to—”

But he’s already gone.

The next scene the cameras catch is Tony showing up exactly ten minutes later with six different brands of tiny powdered donuts.

You stare. “Tony.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t sure which ones you meant.”

The footage goes viral.

—

"HE BOUGHT SIX DIFFERENT KINDS I CANT"

"TONY STARK SPOILING HIS PREGNANT WIFE IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE"

"THE WAY HE JUST GOES EVERY TIME SHE WANTS SOMETHING"

—

The worst craving situation happens one evening when you desperately want something so specific, you almost cry.

“I just—” You huff, rubbing your belly. “I need spicy curly fries, but only from that place, and I need a chocolate shake, but it has to be thick, not too watery—”

Tony doesn’t even hesitate.

“I’m on it.”

And he leaves.

The cameras catch him driving across the city, personally picking up the fries and shake, taste-testing them in the car to make sure they meet your standards, and then rushing back like a man on a mission.

By the time he gets back, you’re curled up on the couch, watching TV, and when he hands you the food, you actually get teary-eyed.

“You love me,” you murmur.

Tony grins, sitting beside you. “Damn right I do.”

And then you sob, because hormones, and he just pulls you close, kissing your temple, whispering, “You’re so cute when you cry over fries.”

The internet melts.

—

"IF MY MAN DOESN’T LOVE ME LIKE THIS I DON’T WANT HIM"

"TONY STARK TASTE-TESTING FOOD BEFORE GIVING IT TO HER STOPPPP"

"THIS IS THE BEST REALITY SHOW IN THE WORLD"

—

Of course, cravings aren’t the only thing the cameras catch.

There’s also the way Tony talks to your belly.

At first, he does it when he thinks no one is listening.

Like one night, when he’s helping you into bed, and you’re already half-asleep. The cameras are subtle, just enough to catch Tony kneeling beside you, pressing his lips to your stomach.

“Hey, little Stark,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re giving your mom a hard time with these cravings, huh?”

He pauses, then chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep bringing her whatever she wants. But you gotta promise me something, kiddo. You gotta promise me you’ll be good to her, okay? Because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You don’t respond, too lost in sleep, but the cameras do.

And when that footage airs, the internet shatters.

—

"TONY WHISPERING TO HER BELLY I CAN’T"

"HE LOVES HER SO MUCH IM GONNA SCREAM"

"IF THIS MAN ISN’T THE BEST HUSBAND IN THE WORLD THEN WHO IS"

—

Eventually, he stops hiding it.

Like the time you’re lounging on the couch, and he just casually flops down, rests his head on your belly, and starts talking.

“So, kid, listen, we gotta talk about your mom’s sleep schedule, because I think you’re keeping her up on purpose, and I will hold that against you when you’re born.”

You flick his ear, amused. “Stop bullying our child.”

“I’m just saying,” Tony grins, rubbing your stomach, “we gotta negotiate bedtime rules.”

You roll your eyes. “You are bedtime rules.”

The cameras love it.

—

"TONY STARK IS A MENACE TO HIS OWN UNBORN CHILD"

"THE WAY HE JUST LAYS ON HER BELLY LIKE IT’S NOTHING"

"THIS IS THE PUREST THING I’VE EVER SEEN"

—

Despite all the antics, one thing is clear—Tony is all in.

He’s there for every check-up, every doctor’s visit, every late-night craving. When you start getting tired more often, he carries you to bed. When your feet start hurting, he massages them without hesitation.

The cameras capture all of it.

And the world?

The world is obsessed.

Tony Stark, former playboy, genius billionaire, Iron Man, is completely and utterly devoted to you and your growing family.

And the best part?

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Pregnancy is a rollercoaster, and Tony is strapped in for the ride whether he’s ready or not.

As the months pass, your belly grows, swelling more and more until it becomes impossible to ignore. Not that Tony ever ignores it—if anything, he’s obsessed. He constantly finds excuses to touch your stomach, his palm resting there whenever you're close enough, his thumb absently rubbing slow circles against your skin.

And then there are the comments.

“Look at you,” he murmurs one evening, watching as you struggle to get comfortable on the couch. “My wife is smuggling a whole-ass basketball.”

You glare at him. “If I wasn’t carrying your child, I’d throw something at you.”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You huff and shift again, groaning. Your body feels heavy, everything aches, and Tony—ever the problem solver—just has to fix it.

“Here.” He pulls you into his lap, adjusting you until you’re comfortable. “Better?”

You sigh, letting yourself relax against him. “Yeah.”

The cameras, discreetly placed around the house, capture everything.

The world watches as Tony rubs your back, presses kisses to your temple, and whispers soft reassurances whenever you feel like your body isn’t your own anymore.

—

"TONY SPOILING HIS PREGNANT WIFE AGAIN, I LOVE TO SEE IT"

"HE LOOKS SO OBSESSED WITH HER BUMP, IT’S SO CUTE"

"IF MY MAN DOESN’T HOLD ME LIKE THIS WHEN I’M PREGNANT I DON’T WANT HIM"

—

But if Tony thinks the belly is the biggest challenge, he’s in for a rude awakening.

Because the mood swings?

They hit hard.

One minute, you’re perfectly fine, the next, you’re crying over the fact that a character in a movie didn’t get a happy ending.

Tony, sitting beside you, blinks in confusion. “Babe, you do know it’s just a movie, right?”

You sniffle. “But he loved her so much.”

He stares for a second, then immediately pulls you into his arms. “Alright, c’mere, emotional wreck.”

You sob into his chest while he strokes your hair, sending a helpless look at the nearest camera.

—

"TONY STARING AT THE CAMERA LIKE HE’S ON THE OFFICE HELP"

"MY MAN IS GOING THROUGH IT"

"HE’S SO PATIENT THO, LIKE HE JUST LETS HER CRY AND HOLDS HER"

—

Then there’s the anger.

Like the time Tony absentmindedly ate the last slice of cake from the fridge.

You stand there, staring at the empty plate in his hands, your eye twitching. “You ate it?”

Tony swallows, suddenly realizing his mistake. “I—I didn’t know you wanted it.”

You inhale sharply. “That was my cake, Tony.”

“…I can buy another one?”

Big mistake.

Because the next thing the cameras catch is you chucking a pillow at his head, followed by you storming off while mumbling about divorce.

Tony just sits there, rubbing his face, sighing. “This kid is gonna be the death of me.”

—

"TONY STARK RUNNING FOR HIS LIFE OVER CAKE I CAN’T"

"WHY IS HE JUST SITTING THERE HE NEEDS TO RUN"

"THE WAY HE JUST ACCEPTS HIS FATE"

—

Despite the chaos, Tony never complains. If anything, he loves it. Loves that you trust him enough to show all your emotions, loves being the one to comfort you, loves knowing that he’s going to be a dad soon.

And then comes the gender reveal.

Tony being Tony, there’s no way he’s doing something basic.

So, naturally, he builds a custom fireworks system on the roof of the tower, programmed to explode in either blue or pink.

The cameras capture everything—the way Tony stands beside you, arm wrapped around your waist, the way you squeeze his hand, the anticipation in the air.

Then—boom.

The sky lights up in pink.

A girl.

You gasp, turning to Tony, but his reaction stuns you.

Because for a second, he’s completely frozen. Just staring at the sky, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Then, all at once, he laughs—loud, disbelieving, softer than anyone’s ever heard him. He turns to you, hands cupping your face, kissing you so fiercely it takes your breath away.

“We’re having a girl,” he whispers against your lips, awestruck.

And then, the reality sinks in.

A girl.

A little Stark.

Suddenly, Tony is thinking about everything—about the world she’ll grow up in, about all the dangers, about all the idiots who will try to hurt her.

And just like that, his entire brain shifts.

“We need to start designing a security system for her nursery,” he blurts, already calculating in his head. “No, for the entire tower. Maybe a shield system. JARVIS, remind me to upgrade all tower protocols—”

You groan, pressing a hand to his chest. “Tony. Breathe.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just—she’s gonna be perfect and I need to make sure she’s safe.”

You cup his cheek, smiling. “She’s going to have the best dad in the world.”

Tony melts, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Damn right she is.”

The internet explodes.

—

"TONY’S FACE WHEN HE SEES THE PINK LIGHTS IM GONNA CRY"

"THE WAY HE JUST FREEZES LIKE HE CAN’T BELIEVE IT"

"HE’S ALREADY PLANNING HER SECURITY SYSTEM SOMEONE STOP HIM"

"Y/N CALLING HIM THE BEST DAD IM SOBBING"

—

From that moment on, Tony doubles his efforts. He talks to your belly even more, spoils you even more, and starts designing little things for the baby—tiny arc reactor-themed onesies, custom-made stuffed animals, even a baby-sized Iron Man helmet (which you immediately veto).

The cameras catch everything, but at this point, Tony doesn’t care.

Because soon, his little girl is going to be here.

And he’ll do everything to make sure she has the best life possible.

The cameras aren’t in your bedroom.

That was one of the first things you and Tony agreed on when the reality show started. No matter how open your life became, some things had to stay just for you.

Tonight, you’re curled up in bed, Tony’s arm draped protectively over your belly, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin. Layla kicks, and Tony chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“She’s active tonight,” he murmurs.

You hum, shifting slightly. “She always is when you talk to her.”

He grins. “What can I say? She loves her dad.”

Your heart clenches, and for a moment, all you can do is watch him—how his face softens whenever he talks about Layla, how his hand never strays too far from your belly, how his love for your daughter is already so obvious.

And that’s when the thought really sinks in.

The whole world is watching you.

They have been for years now. Every step of your relationship, every milestone, every intimate moment—recorded, edited, aired for millions of people to see.

But Layla?

Layla isn’t a reality show. She isn’t entertainment. She isn’t a spectacle for people to comment on.

She’s your daughter.

You take a deep breath. “Tony?”

He makes a sleepy sound in response, his fingers stilling against your skin. “Mm?”

You hesitate, then sigh. “I think we should stop the show.”

Tony immediately perks up, blinking down at you. “Wait, what?”

You shift, turning on your side so you can meet his eyes. “Not forever,” you clarify. “Just… until Layla is old enough to make that choice for herself.”

He’s quiet, considering. You can see his mind working, his lips pressing together as he thinks.

And then—

“You’re right.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

Tony exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I mean, I love the attention, obviously,” he jokes, but then his expression softens. “But this isn’t just about us anymore. It’s about her.”

He shifts, propping himself up on his elbow, his other hand still resting on your belly. “I don’t want Layla growing up with a camera in her face twenty-four seven,” he continues. “I don’t want strangers on the internet dissecting her every move, turning her into some… public figure before she even knows who she is.”

You nod, relieved. “Exactly.”

Tony sighs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I still want to document everything, though.”

You smile. “Obviously.”

“No, but I mean us,” he says. “Like… personal videos. Just for her. So she can look back and see how much we loved her before she was even born.”

Your heart melts. “That’s a great idea.”

His lips quirk up. “Of course it is.”

You roll your eyes but pull him down for a kiss anyway.

—

The next morning, you and Tony sit down in the living room, facing the cameras for one last announcement.

“Well, folks,” Tony starts, draping an arm around your shoulders, “we’ve got some bittersweet news.”

You glance at him, amused. “Bittersweet?”

“Hey, I like to think our audience loves us,” he grins. “They’re gonna be devastated.”

You shake your head but look back at the camera. “As you all know, we’re expecting our first child soon.”

“Little Miss Layla Stark,” Tony adds proudly.

You smile. “And because of that, we’ve decided to put the show on pause.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna take a break from the whole ‘constant surveillance’ thing. Give our kid some privacy, let her be a kid before throwing her into the media circus.”

You squeeze his hand. “This isn’t goodbye forever. Maybe one day, when Layla’s old enough, we’ll come back.”

Tony smirks. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a big return special. Maybe Layla’s first TV appearance.”

You laugh. “Only if she wants to.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “Fine.”

Then, he looks straight into the camera, grinning. “But don’t think you’ve seen the last of us. We’ll be back. Maybe for a wedding anniversary special. Maybe a family special.”

You nudge him playfully. “Maybe not.”

Tony winks. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

The camera fades to black.

—

The internet erupts.

—

"THE SHOW IS ENDING????"

"NOOOO I NEED MY WEEKLY DOSE OF TONY & Y/N"

"Okay but respect, they’re doing what’s best for their daughter"

"Not me crying like they’re my real family"

"Imagine the RETURN SPECIAL THO, we’re gonna be starving for years"

—

With the cameras finally off, your home feels different. Quieter. More yours.

Tony still records little videos—private ones, just for you and Layla. Some are just the two of you talking to the camera, telling her about your day. Others are candid, like Tony whispering to your belly, or the moment Layla’s nursery is finished, or late-night cravings runs.

But this time?

It’s not for the world.

It’s just for her.

It happens in the middle of the night.

One moment, you’re peacefully sleeping—well, as peaceful as you can be at nearly nine months pregnant. The next, a sharp, undeniable pain rips through your lower abdomen, jolting you awake with a startled gasp.

At first, you think it’s just another Braxton Hicks contraction. You’ve had plenty of those lately, and they always come at the most inconvenient times. But then the pain doesn’t stop—it intensifies, making your entire body tense.

Then, the feeling of something wet.

Oh, shit.

Your water just broke.

For a second, you just sit there, blinking in the dim light of your bedroom, trying to process what’s happening. And then, it hits you—

This is it.

Layla is coming.

Your hand immediately reaches out, shaking Tony’s shoulder. “Tony.”

He groans, still half-asleep, mumbling something incoherent as he tries to turn over.

You shake him harder. “Tony, wake up!”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused. “Huh? What—?”

Another contraction slams through you, and you whimper, gripping your stomach. “Tony!”

That gets his attention.

His eyes snap open, immediately locking onto your face. He takes in your tense posture, the way you’re clutching your belly, the panic in your expression.

And then—

“Oh, shit.”

He launches out of bed so fast he nearly falls, scrambling for his phone. His hands are shaking so much he drops it, cursing as he bends down to pick it up.

“Uh—okay, okay, uh—hospital! Right! Gotta—gotta get you to the hospital!” He’s moving frantically, throwing on a hoodie, grabbing random things, his brain clearly short-circuiting.

You grip the edge of the bed, breathing through another contraction. “Tony, breathe.”

He spins around, pointing at you wildly. “Me?! Me breathe?! You’re telling me to breathe?! You’re the one in labor!”

Despite the pain, you let out a weak, breathy laugh. “I need you to be calm right now.”

Tony takes a deep, sharp breath. Nods. “Right. Right, okay. Calm. I can do calm.”

Then, another contraction hits, and you whimper in pain.

And just like that, Tony completely loses it again.

“Nope, screw calm, we’re going, we’re leaving NOW!”

—

The drive to the hospital is a mess.

Tony is gripping the steering wheel like his life depends on it, going at least twenty miles over the speed limit.

Meanwhile, you’re in the passenger seat, gripping his hand so tightly he winces every time you squeeze.

“Almost there,” he keeps saying, over and over. “Just hang in there, babe, I got you, we’re almost there.”

The second you arrive, Tony throws the car into park and bolts around to your side, practically scooping you up into his arms before rushing inside.

“SOMEONE HELP!” he shouts at the front desk, frantic. “MY WIFE IS HAVING A BABY—LIKE, RIGHT NOW!”

The nurses immediately jump into action, a wheelchair appearing within seconds. Tony barely has time to process before they’re already wheeling you away, guiding him to change into scrubs, and suddenly—

It’s happening.

—

Tony thought he knew what to expect.

He’s read the books. He’s listened to the doctors. He’s watched the videos.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for the moment he sees you in that hospital bed, gripping his hand like it’s your lifeline, sweat dripping down your forehead as you struggle to bring your daughter into the world.

He’s never felt so useless in his life.

He hates seeing you in pain. Hates hearing your cries, hates the way you’re struggling, hates that he can’t do anything except whisper encouragements and stroke your hair.

“You’re doing amazing,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. “Just a little more, baby, you got this.”

You’re exhausted. Every part of you hurts, and you feel like you can’t do this anymore—but then, with one last, desperate push—

The sound of a baby’s cry fills the room.

And just like that—

Layla Stark is here.

Tony freezes.

The doctor lifts her up—tiny, tiny, covered in evidence of birth, her face scrunched up as she screams.

And Tony?

Tony completely falls apart.

Because holy shit.

She’s his.

His daughter.

His heart shatters in the best way possible, his eyes instantly welling up with tears. He doesn’t even care that people are watching—he just laughs, breathless and overwhelmed, completely gone for this tiny, screaming little person.

You’re crying too—exhausted, but so relieved, so happy.

And then—Layla is in your arms.

She’s so small. Tiny little fingers, tiny little toes, her face still red and scrunched as she wails.

And Tony?

Tony is a goner.

He reverently reaches out, tracing a finger over her impossibly small hand—

And then—

Layla Stark wraps her tiny, chubby fingers around his finger.

Tony gasps. His breath catches. His heart stops.

His lips part, eyes wide as he stares at his daughter, completely wrecked.

And then—

“Oh, I’m so screwed.”

You laugh weakly, still breathless. “She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger, huh?”

Tony sniffs, barely holding back tears. “Immediately.”

Layla lets out another tiny wail, and Tony—fully, utterly in love—leans down to press a soft, shaky kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, baby girl,” he whispers. His voice cracks slightly, and he lets out a wet chuckle. “It’s me. It’s your dad.”

Layla squirms, still making little noises, but Tony doesn’t care.

Because she’s here.

She’s real.

And she’s his.

Bringing Layla home is both the most exciting and terrifying moment of your life.

The house feels different the second you step inside with her in your arms—like it’s not just yours and Tony’s anymore. It belongs to her now, too.

Tony hovers the entire time, shifting from overprotective to completely obsessed in the span of seconds. The moment you settle onto the couch, he’s already double-checking the baby monitor, the temperature of the room, the entire security system.

“Tony,” you sigh, exhausted but amused.

He glances up. “What?”

“She’s been home for five minutes.”

“Exactly,” he says, setting his tablet down and moving toward you. “We’ve had her for five minutes, and I’m already considering putting JARVIS on full lockdown mode.”

You roll your eyes. “Just come sit with us.”

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He settles beside you, immediately peering down at Layla, who’s bundled up in soft pink blankets, her tiny chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

“She’s so small,” he murmurs.

You smile. “She won’t be small for long.”

Tony huffs, resting his head against yours. “I don’t like that.”

You laugh. “Well, it’s happening anyway.”

Layla stirs slightly in your arms, her face scrunching up before she lets out a tiny, sleepy sigh.

And just like that—Tony melts all over again.

—

The first few months with a newborn are chaos.

Layla runs your entire lives.

She wakes up at all hours, demanding attention, food, or just a simple snuggle. Some nights, you’re both up, groggy and exhausted as you take turns rocking her back to sleep.

But Tony?

Tony doesn’t mind it.

Sure, he complains—but the second Layla’s in his arms, those complaints turn into soft murmurs and whispered reassurances, his voice gentle as he cradles her against his chest.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles one night, pacing the nursery at three a.m.. “Otherwise, this whole ‘waking up at random hours’ thing would not be working out.”

Layla lets out a tiny squeak, nuzzling into his chest.

And Tony—completely, utterly wrapped around her tiny little finger—just sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah, yeah,” he whispers. “I love you too, kid.”

—

Her first smile happens when she’s about two months old.

Tony swears it’s at him first.

You disagree.

But the second her little face lights up at the sight of her dad, you know there’s no chance of winning this argument.

“See?” Tony says proudly, bouncing her slightly in his arms. “She loves me.”

You roll your eyes. “She loves both of us.”

Layla coos, her tiny hands reaching out to grab Tony’s goatee.

He winces but laughs anyway. “Yeah, yeah, kid, I know you’re obsessed with me.”

—

Her first word comes when she’s nearly a year old.

And of course—because Tony Stark is the most dramatic man on the planet—it has to be something that boosts his ego.

“Dada.”

Tony freezes.

You swear he stops breathing for a second.

Layla looks up at him with wide eyes, a gummy grin on her face, and says it again.

“Dada!”

Tony gasps.

You groan.

“Oh, great,” you mutter. “Like his ego wasn’t big enough already.”

Tony spins toward you, clutching Layla to his chest like she’s just given him the greatest gift in the world. “Did you hear that?!”

You cross your arms. “Yeah, yeah.”

Tony grins so wide it looks like his face might split in half. “SHE SAID DADA.”

Layla claps.

And just like that—Tony is gone for her all over again.

—

Her first steps happen when she’s barely a year and a half old.

She’s been wobbling for weeks, standing on unsteady little feet, holding onto furniture, so close to walking.

And then one day—

Tony is sitting on the floor across from her, arms outstretched, encouraging her with a bright, excited grin.

“C’mon, baby girl,” he coaxes. “You got this.”

Layla wobbles.

Then—

One step.

Then another.

Then—

She launches into Tony’s arms with a delighted squeal.

And Tony?

He immediately scoops her up, spinning her around with a triumphant whoop.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re gonna hype her up too much.”

Tony blows a raspberry against Layla’s cheek, making her giggle. “Too much? Impossible.”

—

Layla grows up so fast.

And Tony?

Tony is there for every second of it.

From teaching her how to build tiny, kid-safe machines in his lab, to letting her “help” with his Iron Man suit (which really just means she sticks stickers on it), to indulging every single one of her whims—he’s there.

He adores her.

And she adores him right back.

—

By the time Layla turns six, the house is full of even more life, even more laughter.

And—

You’re pregnant again.

Tony finds out when Layla hands him a handmade card one morning, grinning up at him as she watches him open it.

Inside—

A drawing.

A little stick-figure family.

Tony. You. Layla.

And a tiny fourth figure, drawn with little hearts around it.

Tony stares.

And then—

His head snaps up, his eyes wide as he stares at you.

You just smile.

And Tony?

Tony almost faints.

—

The decision to reopen the show comes naturally.

Layla is older now, old enough to understand what the cameras mean.

And with another baby on the way…

Well.

Why not document it?

So one night, Tony makes the big announcement.

He sits in front of the camera, Layla perched in his lap, you beside him, your belly just barely showing.

“Well, well, well,” he grins. “Bet you all missed us.”

Layla giggles.

Tony winks at the camera. “That’s right, folks. The Stark Reality is back.”

And just like that—

The internet explodes.

The first episode of The Stark Reality: Family Edition premieres on a Friday night, and within minutes, the internet is in shambles.

It starts innocently enough—a sleek title sequence featuring clips of Tony in the lab, you organizing things in the house, and then—

Layla.

The world sees her for the very first time.

A six-year-old hurricane with wild curls, too much energy, and her father’s chaotic tendencies.

And from the moment she appears on screen, people are hooked.

—

The episode kicks off with Tony standing in front of the camera, looking smug.

"Alright, people. You've seen me save the world. You’ve seen me run a company. But you have never seen me do something this terrifying."

A beat.

Then—

"Parenting."

Cue a smash cut to Layla running through the house screaming, a roll of toilet paper streaming behind her like a cape.

Tony chases after her, yelling, "LAYLA, NO! NOT THE STARK TOILET PAPER! THAT'S EXPENSIVE!"

The audience is hooked immediately.

—

One of the highlights of the episode is a segment where Tony tries to teach Layla how to build something in the lab.

It goes about as well as expected.

"Alright, kid," Tony says, crouching next to her. "This is a simple circuit. We just have to connect this wire to—"

Layla, bored already, pokes the machine. "Can I make it explode?"

Tony pauses. "I—okay, yes, technically, but—"

Cue Layla pressing random buttons.

Cue Tony screeching.

Cue an immediate power outage.

JARVIS’s voice echoes through the darkness. “Sir, I must once again request that you supervise your daughter more closely in the lab.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

Another fan-favorite moment is breakfast time in the Stark household.

The clip opens with you making coffee, looking half-asleep, while Tony and Layla sit at the table.

Layla swings her legs under the chair, grinning at her dad. “Can I have ice cream for breakfast?”

Tony doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

You, without even looking up, say, “No.”

Layla frowns. “But Daddy said—”

Tony clears his throat and looks away. “I never said that.”

A dramatic zoom-in on Layla’s betrayed expression follows.

Cue the internet losing its mind.

—

And of course—because Layla Stark is a menace—there’s a segment of pure chaos.

The camera catches her sneaking into the living room while Tony is distracted. She grins at the camera, one finger over her lips in a shushing motion.

Then—

She grabs the TV remote.

Tony, from the other room: “LAYLA, DON’T YOU DARE—”

The TV blasts to full volume, playing Baby Shark.

Tony screams.

Layla cackles.

JARVIS: “Sir, would you like me to intervene?”

Tony, defeated: “No, let me suffer.”

—

By the time the episode ends, the internet has completely lost its mind.

Twitter explodes within minutes:

NOT TONY STARK GETTING OUTSMARTED BY A SIX-YEAR-OLD. 💀💀💀

Layla Stark world domination WHEN?

I’ve never seen a man so powerful be so weak for someone. Tony said “no” to the Avengers but said yes to Layla asking for a puppy.

Layla Stark is already richer and funnier than me and she’s SIX.

“Let me suffer” - Tony Stark, a broken man.

—

People are obsessed.

Layla goes viral immediately. Clips of her chaotic moments rack up millions of views within hours.

Some fans even make edits of her, complete with dramatic music and captions like "Layla Stark: Agent of Chaos".

Tony, of course, eats up the attention.

“She’s a star,” he tells you smugly, scrolling through Twitter.

You groan, rubbing your temples. “She’s six.”

Layla, from across the room: “I’m famous?”

Tony grins. “Oh yeah, kid. You’re a sensation.”

And Layla, because she’s her father’s daughter, just smirks and says, “Nice.”

—

The first episode is a massive success.

But one thing is clear—

Layla Stark is the real star of the show.

The next few episodes of The Stark Reality: Family Edition only solidify one undeniable fact—Layla Stark is a scene-stealer.

Every episode, every clip, every chaotic six-year-old moment only makes the internet love her more.

And somehow, amidst all the hilarity, the heartwarming family moments make people even more obsessed.

—

The second episode opens with Tony attempting to make breakfast again—because the internet loved the last disaster.

He stands at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, looking far too confident as he flips a pancake. “See? I got this.”

Layla, sitting on the counter and kicking her legs, watches intently.

You sit at the table, already sipping coffee, waiting for whatever chaos is about to unfold.

Tony flips another pancake. It lands perfectly.

Layla gasps.

The camera zooms in on her starstruck expression. “Daddy, you’re a genius.”

Tony grins, puffing his chest out. “I know.”

And then—because the universe loves to humble him—he tries to flip a third pancake.

It flies straight into his face.

Layla screams with laughter.

You almost spit out your coffee.

The internet loses its mind.

—

NOT TONY STARK GETTING TAKEN OUT BY A PANCAKE.

Layla’s little gasp like she’s watching her hero and then watching him FAIL. 🤣

Every episode, I lose more and more respect for Tony Stark as a competent adult.

Layla’s laugh is literally the best sound in the world. Protect this kid at all costs.

—

Another moment that has the internet screaming is Layla’s… possessiveness.

Specifically, when it comes to her parents.

The first time it happens, the cameras catch Tony wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh.

Cue—

Layla glaring.

She marches over, shoves herself between you two, and plants her hands on her hips.

“Hey!”

Tony blinks. “Uh… hey?”

Layla scowls. “That’s my mommy!”

Tony gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me.” Layla crosses her arms, looking way too much like her father. “She’s mine.”

You try so hard not to laugh.

Tony, ever the drama queen, drops to his knees. “Are you telling me… I can’t hug my wife?”

Layla, looking dead serious, nods. “Yes.”

Tony fake cries. “Betrayed by my own daughter.”

And then—Layla suddenly frowns, like she just realized something.

She whips around to you, eyes narrowing. “But he’s my daddy.”

You blink. “Uh… yes?”

She gasps. “So you can’t hug him either!”

Tony chokes. “Wait, wait, wait—”

Layla throws her arms out dramatically, officially declaring, “NO ONE gets hugs!”

The internet dies.

—

LAYLA SAID EQUALITY ONLY. If she can’t have them both, then no one gets them. 😭😭😭

Tony is so dramatic for fake crying on the floor like this isn’t his literal child.

Layla really said “THAT’S MY MOMMY” like Tony wasn’t married to her. 💀💀💀

Tony’s face when he realized Layla wasn’t only jealous for Y/N but also for him took me out. 🤣

—

But of course, despite her jealousy, Layla is still the sweetest.

Especially when it comes to the baby.

She’s obsessed.

Mostly because she sees Tony constantly talking to your belly and decides she needs to do the exact same thing.

The first time the cameras catch it, Tony is kneeling in front of you, hands on your belly, grinning as he murmurs, “Hey, kiddo. This is your super cool dad speaking.”

Layla, sitting on the couch, watches very closely.

Then—she scrambles down, marches over, and nudges Tony out of the way.

“Move, Daddy.”

Tony blinks. “What—hey!”

Layla presses her hands to your belly, eyes narrowing in concentration.

Then—

She whispers: “Hey. It’s me, your big sister.”

Tony melts.

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to whisper.”

Layla ignores you.

She leans in closer.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she whispers conspiratorially. “But when you come out, I’ll protect you.”

Tony gasps.

Layla nods firmly. “I won’t let Daddy steal you away.”

Tony clutches his chest. “WHAT?!”

Layla turns to him, very serious. “I know your game, Daddy.”

Tony sputters. “My game?!”

Layla narrows her eyes. “You tried to steal Mommy from me. You’re not stealing this one.”

Cue you absolutely dying of laughter.

Cue Tony looking offended.

Cue the internet breaking over how hilarious Layla is.

—

“I won’t let Daddy steal you away” LAYLA I AM SCREAMING.

Layla declared WAR on Tony over a baby who isn’t even born yet. 😭😭😭

The way Layla whispered “I’ll protect you” like she’s on a secret mission. 😭💀

Tony is losing more and more family members every episode. First Y/N, now the baby. By Season 2, he’s gonna be exiled.

—

The new season is already a massive success.

Layla has the world wrapped around her tiny finger—just like she has her father.

And with each new episode, one thing becomes even more obvious—

The Starks are hilarious.

And the world cannot get enough.

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 2

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hi everyone! it's currently exactly 2am for me lol but I wanted to get this chapter out today! i was hoping to having the wedding happen but I like it more for the next chapter. all the support has been so overwhelming and amazing, thank you guys so much for all the love!! i appreciate it so much and I'm grateful that you all are so supportive, especially for my first ever fic. i really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! also, just let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling

previous / masterlist / next

You could feel your eyes glazing over with the amount of time you’d spent staring at your computer screen. A quick glance at the clock showed that only a couple hours had passed since you’d arrived at work, and a devastating thirty minutes remained until your lunch break. Rubbing at your tired eyes, you tried to find the energy to resume reviewing the materials your team had sent you, but you came up short. 

The wedding planning had been taking a lot out of you the past couple of months, even though your mother wasn’t letting you decide anything for it anyway. She had been quite clear that all you had to do was show up and that your input wouldn’t be needed. You couldn’t honestly say you had an issue with that, this didn’t feel like your wedding anyway. If it were yours, you would’ve been getting married to someone you love, and crucially, someone who loves you in return.

But that wasn’t in the cards for you and you knew that well, so you went along with your mother’s planning placidly, agreeing to almost everything she mentioned and getting ignored on things you didn’t. It left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It felt like an out-of-body experience every time your mother pulled you into another appointment for your dress fittings or makeup and hair test runs. You could feel yourself simply going through the motions and just waiting until the appointment was done so you could return to your mundane life. 

Not much else had changed, honestly. You were still working, hanging out with your friends on occasion, reading in bed, and watching television in the evenings. The only thing looming over you was the date of the wedding, now only six months away. It felt like an omen, always hovering near you, spiking your heart rate, and making you sweat. 

Even your team had noticed your heightened anxiety and expressed their worries to you, especially the youngest, Choi Song Ha. She was a cute, young thing, a fresh face in the industry that you had quickly taken under your wing once you had set eyes on her in the new recruit orientation you visited just over a year ago now. You knew just how quickly the gaming industry ate up and spat out women like clockwork and you didn’t want the same fate for her, so you’d snatched her up into your team. She truly felt like the little sister you’d never had and your bond quickly grew over the months since you’d met. She had picked up on your dampened mood and resolved to leave you small treats of a chip bag or chocolates on your desk every other day or so as a means to cheer you up. She knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t appreciate outright signs of concern or making a scene at work, and you loved her for it. 

She had left you a small red ginseng jelly this morning with a doodle of a grumpy cat stuck to it on a post-it note. It made you smile every time you glanced at it.

It kind of reminded you of Yoongi. The two of you hadn’t talked since that night in the restaurant, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to talk to him. Your mother had given you his number and you’d saved it, but you hadn’t made any move to message him.

“Team leader?”

You turned, snapping out of your daze to face another one of your team members, Yeonsik. 

“Yes, Yeonsik,” you responded, trying to appear calm and collected, and not like you were just thinking about your soon-to-be husband who hates you.

“We have the materials from the character graphics department for Plan C ready, it’s in your inbox now. They said that they’re ready to make any changes you want, but they’re worried about the deadline for the second draft,” Yeonsik rambled. He was a nice man, only a few years younger than you, and quite passionate about his job since joining your team two years back, just after you’d become the team lead of Planning Group 1. He had a handsome face with longer, dark hair and bright eyes that were eager to please.

“Okay, thanks for letting me know. Also, good job on keeping Graphics 2 on track, I know they’ve been giving us a hard time with getting the updated designs over. Thanks again,” you said politely, sending him a small smile. Yeonsik beamed in response and returned to his seat happily. You chuckled fondly at his antics before opening the file he’d sent. You loved your team members and you held a high respect for them. You knew you led them well and that they respected you in return. It was a small team, consisting of only five people, including you, but you were content with the group and the dynamic. You often went out for drinks together after work, usually followed by karaoke and at least one member passing out, most often Yeonsik, who would then be picked up by his boyfriend. You were a close-knit group and you couldn’t imagine a better job.

Slowly, Mrs. Min’s words crept back into your mind at the thought of how much you loved your position. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t expect you to quit your job? You wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

No, he said that he would do his thing and you would do yours, you reminded yourself. That’s right, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t interfere in each other’s lives. Except, you hadn’t really agreed, had you? You’d just acquiesced because he’d been in the motion of leaving anyway. You weren’t really sure if that’s what you’d wanted, living separate lives and being married only on paper. 

Yoongi’s words rang clear in your head as you gnawed on your lower lip, was this really how this marriage was going to be? The two of you not even acknowledging each other except at galas and parties where you had to appear married? You didn’t want that.

But…if Yoongi did, how much say did you really have? As much as you wanted to make this work, it had to be a two-way street. If Yoongi didn’t want anything to do with you, you would have to accept that and just try to get through this the best you could. You had said to Joohee that day you’d found out, that there’s nothing you can do to stop him. 

It felt painful to come to terms with, especially in the environment of your office where you still had to appear professional. Thankfully, you breathed, none of your team members had noticed your mini-mental breakdown. 

Your phone buzzed with a new message from Yujin, your mother’s assistant.

From Yang Yujin

Hello Miss Y/N,

Your mother has asked me to confirm your three attendees for your wedding invitations. The invitations will be sent out on Friday night, so please send your three names with their contact information and address to me by then. If possible, please send it at least one day beforehand as Mrs. Seo would like to review them before I send the invitations out.

Additionally, she has set up another meeting for you with Mr. Min Yoongi on Friday, at 6 pm. Please find the location details below.

Please let me know if you need any other information,

Yang Yujin

You sighed, reading over the email again. For one, you honestly didn’t even know who you’d want to invite. You didn’t really have that many friends outside of Joohee, your colleagues, and Jung Hoseok, your friend from college. You knew that Joohee would already be invited, but you weren’t sure about Hoseok. He wasn’t a part of the same social circle as you and Joohee, especially since he didn’t come from a richer family, but you’d met him in college and introduced him to Joohee soon after. The three of you had been practically inseparable during your undergrad but after graduation, the three of you hadn’t met up in person in a while, with Hoseok in Busan for work. You tapped your chin thoughtfully with the eraser end of a pencil, maybe you should send an invite to Hoseok. Suddenly, another thought occurred to you, making the pencil drop from your fingers and onto your lap.

You hadn’t even told Hoseok about Yoongi!

“Damn,” you muttered, making a mental note to call him later today. You’d figure out the other invites later. Your eyes drifted to the second part of the email. 

Another meeting, huh? It sounds like it’ll be just the two of us this time. I wonder if he’ll be any different.

A rap of knuckles against your desk brought your attention back in front of you. Song Ha stood beside your chair, looking at you curiously, “It’s lunch, Team Leader. Want to grab something with the team downstairs?”

Shit, you had agreed to grab lunch with Joohee today. 

“No, Miss Choi, I’ll be meeting a friend of mine. But you all enjoy your lunch!”

“Alright, have fun!”

The team slowly filed out, discussing amongst themselves what they’d get from the cafeteria today. You almost longed to go with them, but you knew you had to tell Joohee about the email you got. 

You could feel a headache coming on. 

Sighing, you stood and gathered your things into your tote bag, never having liked purses, and started the walk towards the elevators to reach the quaint cafe across the street you and Joohee liked to frequent. 

You had arrived before Joohee, which was to be expected with your office right across and decided to grab a table for both of you. Setting your tote bag in the seat beside you, you read the email once more on your phone. It dragged another sigh out of you before you almost jumped into the air at the sound of Joohee’s voice.

“What’s got you so melancholy?’

You breathed out to calm your heart rate from the mini jumpscare and looked up at her. She was dressed a bit more formal than you in a light blue blouse and dark navy dress pants that fell gracefully in silk around her long legs with a maroon purse hanging from her shoulder. Her office was much more formal than yours, working under her father. Your own office often had team leaders and higher-ups in jeans, the nature of your work making it more casual, so you contrasted her in a simple black sweatshirt and blue jeans. 

“I have to meet Yoongi again on Friday.”

“God damn.”

You nodded somberly as she took her seat across from you, “You remember what happened last time? Why does it feel like he’s gonna eat me alive this time?”

Joohee looked at you suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You recoiled, shooting her a glare, “Good God, woman, not like that.”

Joohee relented, waving her hands in surrender, “Okay, well, assume he’ll be the same. Then you won’t be caught off guard. But I think you should still try to get through to him. Maybe, at the very least, you guys can become friends.”

You hummed in agreement, what she was saying made sense. You weren’t exactly hoping for a rom-com drama-like romantic relationship, but being friends wouldn’t be so bad. 

A waiter arrived, taking your drink and food orders, and you and Joohee fell back into easy conversation about your jobs and other small gossip. As much as you were trying to pay attention to what Joohee was saying, you couldn’t help your mind returning to Yoongi and his dark eyes scrutinizing you and his cold, biting voice. 

“Y/N?”

You focused back into Joohee and her concerned stare dug into you, “What?”

“Are you still thinking about Yoongi?”

You nodded, looking away. You felt bad for not listening to her especially when she had basically given you a solution to your anxiety regarding Friday. You heard her sigh before speaking. 

“Listen, Y/N, you can’t stop how he’s going to behave towards you. You can only control how you respond. I think your best bet is to try to tell him you’re not expecting him to treat you like a wife, but you want him to treat you like a friend. Unless that isn’t what you want.”

“No, it is,” you said, keeping yourself from burying your head in your hands, “And you’re right, that’s all I can do. Why didn’t you become a therapist, again?”

Joohee only grinned in response, “I’m too pretty.”

Joohee’s words from earlier echoed in your head for the rest of the workday. Did you really want him to treat you like a friend? Or something more?

You weren’t sure. Of course, you had this half-crush, half-infatuation with the man since you’d met him when you were younger, but marriage was a totally different game. Were you really ready to spend the rest of your life with a man you were attracted to but he couldn’t feel the same? 

Maybe he could.

You knocked that thought away as soon as it entered your mind, you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. You knew that Yoongi was less than happy about the situation and the unfavorable circumstances would only serve to further distance him from you. You would have to be okay with just being friends if that. 

As you paced around your apartment later that night, you stopped in front of your dresser in your bedroom. In the third drawer from the top was the handkerchief that Yoongi had given you when you were younger. You had kept it meaning to give it back to him, but you had barely seen him since then, let alone had a moment in private to give it to him. 

Most of your interactions had been minimal conversations at parties and galas, often accompanied by Joohee and Seokjin. You couldn’t recall a time when Yoongi had actually talked to you directly in any of those scenarios. So why did your crush persist?

Maybe it was the innocence of your first meeting, the cliche of it all. You, small, sad, and alone, and Yoongi, showing up like your knight in shining armor. You had had a fascination with him since then, always trying to seek out his silhouette or pitch-black hair at gatherings afterward. Yet, he never approached you alone, nor did you make an attempt to do so yourself. You had called it an infatuation with Joohee because it really was, you didn’t really know anything about him, much less had a full conversation with him. Even when you were in a group with him, Seokjin, and Joohee, he would barely acknowledge you. 

Not that he was obligated to.

You fell back onto your bed and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a soft grunt when you hit the mattress. Would you be able to survive actually getting to know Yoongi? Your greatest fear was that you would fall in love with him, you were basically already primed for it. And that would not work out, you knew that, and you refused to consider any other outcome.

You couldn’t afford to get your hopes up.

Turning on your side, you could feel your thoughts drift to your few interactions with him growing up. He had always been polite, but cold. The most he’d said to you was a curt greeting and the barest of small talk. The only other interactions you’d really had were your first meeting and hearing about his escapades through the grapevine, mainly Joohee. Nonetheless, you found yourself infatuated, your eyes finding his slightly round cheeks and pouty lips inevitably. What would life be like once you got married?

You tried to imagine yourself in a domestic setting with Yoongi but quickly shut that down, that would only bring up unwanted feelings. You considered whether or not he would continue seeing other people after you were married. Joohee had said it was very possible. Would you be able to handle it? Joohee had suggested that you fool around a bit yourself but you had quickly dismissed that. Cheating was something you would never tolerate in a relationship, from the other person or from yourself. You knew that the reality would be different in your situation, but you still refused to let yourself stray from Yoongi.

Not that you hadn’t tried in the past. You had been in only two relationships leading up to now, one in college and another as a short burst after graduation. It all felt pointless when you knew you wouldn’t get to choose who you spent the rest of your life with. It was an agony that, along with other factors, ended both of your relationships. Mina had been a bright spot in your life, but she couldn’t deal with the fact that you were not only not out to your parents, but that you would likely not be able to be with her long term anyway. There had been other signs that the relationship wouldn’t work out, and you had tried to remain friends but it didn’t pan out past college. 

The relationship after college that had only lasted a few months was with Jaehyun, a sweet man who had been your coworker at your first job out of college. He was very kind to you and you felt comfortable in his presence, but you couldn’t handle the guilt of going out with him while knowing he wouldn’t be the one you marry. To his credit, he had been very understanding when you’d broken down in front of him in a guilt-fueled spiral. He’d held you until you calmed down, wiped your tears, and squeezed you tight before leaving, stating that you could always call him if you needed anything. You still messaged him sometimes, and you remained firm that if you did get to choose who to marry, he would be your first choice. 

The arranged marriage had been looming over your life since you were old enough to understand the importance of status to your family. You were sure Yoongi’s family was the same. You were both expected to keep your duty to your family, a repayment for the comfortable life you both had lived. Once or twice you had considered telling your parents you wouldn’t go through with it when the time came, but you knew that it would only result in you having to pay them back for everything they had ever given money towards for you. Even though you’d gotten multiple scholarships for college, your parents insisted you go to a prestigious university that rarely gave any money to their students because they knew their parents would have wide-open wallets. There was no way you’d ever be able to pay that back in your lifetime, especially with your current job. 

So you were stuck. But you knew you weren’t really all that unhappy. While the circumstances weren’t what you preferred, you couldn’t deny the small excitement that you felt at the prospect of being able to have a relationship with Yoongi. The caveat to that was also knowing that he was an entirely unwilling participant in this situation, which wasn’t really going to work to your advantage. You were set on remaining a realist, refusing to consider the idea that Yoongi might come to love you. It felt like you didn’t have much of any other choice. Everything about this entire situation made you feel like a passive observer, someone with no impact or voice, which wasn’t far from the truth. You imagined Yoongi was much the same.

Distantly, you wondered how many people Yoongi was allowed to invite to the wedding.

Speaking of! You had almost forgotten to call Hoseok, and it was getting late. You scrambled to reach for your phone, stretching your arm out to the nightstand where your phone sat, and grasping it. Dialing his number, you registered how low his contact was on your recent calls. You really needed to call him more often. Hitting his contact, you waited for the ringing to start. He answered rather quickly, which surprised you, as he was usually an early sleeper.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has. I missed you. Hobi,” you said, not realizing how much you meant it until the words left your mouth. It really had been too long since you’d called.

“What’s up? You don’t sound too happy. Is everything okay,” he questioned, and your heart warmed at his concerned nature. He was always able to read you well, better than Joohee sometimes. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine I guess. I’m getting married, actually.”

The other end of the line was silent for a bit before you heard Hoseok let out a breath and speak, “Oh, wow. Okay. How are you feeling?”

You choked out a laugh, “You’re not even asking who I’m marrying?”

“Well, I know that it’s not someone you chose. So I want to know how you’re doing. When did you find out?”

Your laughter died at his serious nature, your attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, “About two months ago. The wedding’s in around six. Want an invite? I get a whole three guests of my own choosing.”

He chuckled softly at that, “Of course I do, you know I’ll be there. But seriously, how are you feeling about this?”

You almost sighed at his unwillingness to let you escape his question, “I don’t know, honestly. I really don’t. I think I’m weirdly at peace with it? I’ve been expecting it for so long and now it’s finally happening. Plus, it being Min Yoongi isn’t exactly the worst thing ever.”

You could hear his surprise over the phone, “Min Yoongi? Like your crush of almost two decades, Min Yoongi?”

You groaned, responding, “Jeez, way to remind me how old I am. Yes, that Min Yoongi. He’s definitely not as okay with it as I am though.”

“What do you mean?”

You recounted the past meeting with his family to Hoseok while he patiently listened and interrupted occasionally to provide his own thoughts. When you finished, you could practically see him falling back against his desk chair, exhaling a burst of air. 

“Well, that’s a lot.”

You let out a short laugh, “Yeah, that’s been my life for the past couple of months.”

“I think Joohee gave you some good advice. I’d probably say something similar to you. Try to make the most of the situation but don’t expect a lot from him. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, “Yeah, you’re probably right. But, enough about me, how are you doing? How’s work?”

Hosek launched into recapping how busy the dance school he taught at had been lately and the gossip surrounding his coworkers. You felt yourself relax more into the conversation and slowly forget your troubling feelings surrounding Yoongi. 

You would deal with those come Friday. 

It was Friday. You made sure to leave work a bit early, giving you enough time to run back to your apartment to change and look presentable. You had chosen your outfit with Joohee’s help the night prior. You were meeting at a relatively fancy restaurant but it was more of a bar, so you didn’t want to be too formal. You had opted for a green dress with a small flower print since you were coming off the winter months into spring. Your dress was an A-line cocktail dress with a square neckline and puffed sleeves that cinched at your wrist. You’d had it for a while and knew how it looked on you, and you knew you would feel comfortable in it tonight. The last thing you needed weighing on your mind was getting in your head about how you looked, which you usually felt nauseous from. 

With it approaching six, you quickly finished up some minimal makeup, topped it off with a lip tint, and tried your best to make your hair look presentable after what was a long day of work. A glance at your watch told you that you didn’t have much time left, so you rushed to your car, almost forgetting your small purse, and started your drive over to the restaurant. You didn’t want to be late and make a bad impression on Yoongi, although you didn’t know if his impression of you could get any worse. 

After you arrived and were sat at your table, you checked your phone to see the time and were relieved to note that you were a couple of minutes early. You felt yourself relax into the booth and started taking slow, calming breaths to slow down your racing heartbeat. The adrenaline of trying to get to the restaurant on time was starting to fade and you took another glance at your watch. 

6:06

Well, that’s fine. He’s probably just a little late, you tried to reassure yourself, but you had a sinking feeling. As the minutes marched on, the sinking feeling grew deeper, and you could feel yourself growing slightly annoyed. 

6:29

Well, whatever.

You took out your phone from your purse and decided to message him. It should be reasonable, right? You had scheduled this beforehand, after all. Well, not you, your mother, but still, the principle held. 

You:

Hi Yoongi-ssi, this is Seo Y/N. I’m waiting at the restaurant at the moment 

and I was wondering if you were alright, since you weren’t here yet? Please let me know if you’d like to reschedule instead.

You winced at how the text message sounded more like an email between colleagues, but you weren’t sure how casual you were supposed to be with him. Before you could mull over the tone of your message more, you hit the send button and bit your lip as you waited for a response. Your fingers began to pick at your dress in a nervous habit and you kept your eyes trained on the restaurant entrance in case you spotted him. 

Finally, at 6:42, you saw the head of black hair that had haunted your dreams as of late. He walked in calmly, looking slightly disheveled, but his lax pace didn’t betray anything about his tardy entrance. He looked infuriatingly attractive in a well-fitted suit with the tie loosened and the top couple of buttons undone. His eyes met yours as the hostess led him to your table and you smiled politely at him, receiving only a cursory nod in return. The waitress quickly approached as he sat down across from you and took his drink order, two fingers of whisky, while you asked for more water. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to drink, more that you needed to keep your wits about you for this dinner and alcohol would only make you feel nauseous in your already anxious state.

With the waitress gone, he turned to you and you felt yourself flush automatically, something you internally cursed. You wished he didn’t have such an effect on you. He declined to say anything, so you took a moment to take in his appearance now that he was much closer to you. 

You could see that his collar was more rumpled than you initially thought and his hair a bit more mussed. You saw a small mark just barely visible from beneath his white button-up, above his tie. Now that he was much closer, you could smell a faint scent of a sweet perfume that you knew wasn’t yours since you had only worn a very light citrus one. 

Oh. He was with someone else. Why does that bother me so much?

Finally, he spoke, his deep voice lulling you out of your trance of staring at the mark on his chest, “Sorry I’m late. I saw your text, but I was driving. To be completely honest, I forgot about this.”

For a moment, his apology surprised you. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to apologize. Maybe you’d built him up to be this cartoon villain in your head after your last interaction, but you’d forgotten that he was human just like you. 

“That’s alright, it’s no problem,” you responded kindly, noting the way his eyebrow slightly furrowed at your response, “How was your day?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in a questioning manner, “Are you really going to do small talk with me?”

You let out an embarrassed laugh at your failure to engage him and tried for a new tactic instead, “Okay, what would you like to talk about then?”

“I want to set some ground rules.”

Your surprise must’ve shown on your face because you saw the way his expression almost changed to amusement. You quickly shook off the abruptness of the statement and nodded your head, “Okay, like what?”

“First, you’ll be moving into my apartment. I’m sure your mother already told you,” you nodded, “Do not enter my bedroom or office without knocking. I’ll extend the same courtesy to you. Second, we keep our lives separate. Unless we need to appear at an event together, we shouldn’t be mingling our private lives, including friends, work, things like that. Thirdly, this marriage is going to be on paper only. Don’t expect me to treat you like my girlfriend, or my wife, because we both know that’s not what this is.”

You felt your teeth take in your bottom lip as you considered his words, “Okay, that’s fine, I guess.” You couldn’t really stop him from wanting to do that, but it still hurt some. Any hopes you had of getting a normal romantic relationship after this were quickly dashed by his next rule.

“Lastly, I want this to be open. Our parents aren’t pressuring us for kids, so we can both find relief elsewhere. We both know this is only for increased stocks and influence in our respective companies. So, I do whatever I want and you do whatever you want in that regard, and we don’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”

You felt your face fall a bit, but you tried to control your expression. You had prepared for this, Joohee had prepared you for this. So why were you still so upset? He’s giving you the go-ahead to find whoever you want, so it’s not technically cheating. So why does it still feel so wrong?

“Okay,” you said uneasily, “That’s all okay.” It felt like you were saying it more for yourself than for him. 

His eyebrow quirked once more. They were very expressive, you noticed. 

“That’s it? You don’t have any rules of your own you want to add in?”

Your hands clenched onto the edge of the booth seat, needing something to ground you. Rules of your own? Your head was swimming with everything that had just happened, you could barely think of anything else, “No, none I want to add.”

Yoongi leaned back and clasped his hands, “Alright then. Shall we eat? My dad’s technically paying so eat all you want.”

You shakily took hold of the menu you’d already looked over a hundred times while waiting for him, not wanting to appear rude by being on your phone. You had already chosen what dish you wanted when Yujin had sent you the restaurant name, a habit of yours being to look up the menu beforehand to choose. The waitress approached and took your orders, taking the menu from your hands, leaving you with nothing to grasp your quivering fingers onto. 

You looked over at Yoongi, seeing him on his phone, scrolling. You felt yourself blanch at the blatant disregard and couldn’t find it in yourself to try and start a conversation. 

The minutes passed by slowly, and you were barely relieved when the food came, providing momentary respite by giving you something to do. You felt like you’d never been in a more awkward situation. The waitress quickly refilled both your drinks, and you noted that Yoongi had ordered water this time. It must be because he’s driving. 

Soon, the both of you finished your food, in utter silence. The waitress, who was quite on top of her game, swiftly provided the bill and told you to take your time. You had a feeling she felt the awkward tension as much as you did.

Once the bill was paid, you and Yoongi walked out towards the parking lot where he started shifting to move in the direction of his car before you blurted out, “Wait!”

He turned, facing you with a bored expression, waiting for you to finish speaking.

“I do have a rule actually.”

Seeming slightly intrigued now, he gestured for you to continue.

“I want us to try and be friends. Please.”

He seemed slightly surprised, judging by the way his eyebrows lifted slightly and his mouth parted. Collecting himself, he looked directly into your eyes, his dark orbs boring into your own, “No. I want us to keep our lives completely separate. We’re not friends.”

With that, he turned around and walked to his car, not sparing you another glance. 

“Wow, what an asshole.”

You hummed lazily in agreement, feeling your head lull. You were already a bottle deep in more cheap Moscato with Joohee, as well as a couple of shots of strawberry soju. 

“I know right! I agreed to whatever he said, why couldn’t he agree with the one thing I asked for?”

Joohee winced and prepared herself for your buzzed anger that was sure to flare up at her next statement, “Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. It did conflict with his other rule. Not that I think he’s justified either. There shouldn’t be a problem in being friends.”

Your head snapped towards her, seeing it as a defensive move for Yoongi in your half-drunken state, but before you could find the energy to get upset, you felt yourself melt further into the couch, “Yeah, you’re right, I guess. Whatever, I don’t need him. I’ll just fuck anyone who looks my way, instead.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” you cried, collapsing onto the pillow beside you, squeezing it tight, “Why am I so pathetic?”

“You’re not,” Joohee cooed, “You’re just in a shitty situation. So is he, but at least you’re not being a dick about it.”

You nodded glumly, still not feeling better about the situation. As you cradled the now-empty wine bottle to your chest, you remembered Hoseok.

“Oh yeah, I invited Hobi for the wedding. My coworker, Song Ha too. Can you believe I couldn’t think of a third person?”

Joohee laughed before throwing herself onto the couch with you, “Hey, you don’t need other friends, you have me. Besides, we’ll all be together again, then! It feels like forever since we’ve seen him.”

“Yeah, I told him and he said the same stuff as you. To try and make the best of it, or whatever,” you could feel yourself becoming less and less sober, “Can I crash here tonight?”

“Of course, do you want me to wash your dress for you?”

“No, I’ll just do it at my place. Thank God I have you.”

Joohee only laughed loudly in response, getting up to grab another bottle of soju from the fridge. The two of you lounged around before moving to watch TV in Joohee’s bed where she promptly fell asleep. Soothed by her snoring, you relaxed into her comfortable mattress and traced the light extrusions on her ceiling. Your thoughts soon drifted to Yoongi, as they seemed to do often these days. 

Was he really fair in rejecting your friendship? Joohee had made a good point earlier in that it certainly conflicted with his rule of ignoring each other outside of obligated functions. But…you didn’t want that. So why did you agree? In the moment, it hadn’t really felt like you’d had another choice. You seemed to be feeling like that a lot lately. 

Yoongi seemed serious about this marriage being for business only and you knew that you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t exactly tell him as such. You couldn’t be more sure that he would only be disgusted if he heard you say that and you didn’t think you’d be able to survive seeing that kind of emotion on his face when it’s directed towards you. 

Not that you’d be able to survive this marriage either. 

Your fingers toyed with the frayed hem of the sleep shorts you’d borrowed from Joohee, a frequent occurrence whenever you stayed over, and you saw her shift in her sleep. She really had been so supportive throughout this whole thing. 

Maybe you should go to her brother for help? No, Yoongi would probably hate that. 

You resisted the urge to kick your feet in frustration out of fear of waking up Joohee. This was so difficult, it was next to impossible to figure out what your next move should be. 

You had a nagging feeling that your mother wouldn’t force you to meet up with Yoongi anymore before the wedding, but why did that not feel like a clear-cut win? Did you want to meet with Yoongi again?

Rubbing at your eyes frantically, you pushed aside the flurry of questions stirring inside you. You didn’t have time to deal with this. There was a large project at work that was in its final stages that you needed your full attention on and then the final beta tests before the official launch, just weeks before your wedding. You couldn’t afford to spend another moment thinking about Yoongi. 

As you got more comfortable in Joohee’s bed, you turned your head to face the clock on her bedside table, reading 3:09 AM. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you forced your eyes closed to try and get some rest. 

You had an inkling that Yoongi would be occupying your thoughts whether you wanted it or not. 

“We’ll be meeting for the rehearsal dinner in one week, Yujin will send you the information and instructions. Don’t be late.”

Your mother’s voice cut off after that, not bothering to say goodbye before ending the call. You could feel your headache coming back and you fumbled for your water bottle before getting up to grab a red ginseng packet from the breakroom. Things had been a lot lately. 

The final preparations for the wedding were underway and your mother was leaving nothing to chance. Your dress had been fitted to perfection with your mother sending you a strict diet and workout plan to make sure you stayed the exact same size until the wedding. That email had been swiftly archived. 

You weren’t even sure of who was in your bridal party other than Joohee being your maid of honor. Not that it mattered. This wedding wasn’t for you anyway. 

As you slowly sucked out the paste from the ginseng packet, leaning against the break room counter, you wondered if Yoongi had had to go through similar procedures, though likely less extensive. You hadn’t heard from him since that dinner where he’d firmly placed a boundary between you, but he’d rarely left your mind since. You’d hoped that the reality check with Yoongi might help clear you of your feelings for him, but, instead, they only deepened your desire to get to know him better, to break past that boundary. But you knew that those ideas were merely fairy tales and this marriage was not going to be one by any means. 

Distantly, you wondered how the ceremony would go. The two of you hadn’t prepared any vows, nor were you expected to. This wedding was not a show of love and everyone knew that. Your parents weren’t concerned with making it appear as though you and Yoongi were a loving couple, no, this wedding was more of an excuse to show off their wealth and influence. Your nuptials were merely a byproduct. Still, would you have to kiss Yoongi?

You quickly shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the mental image, feeling your cheeks flush hot. Yet, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You imagined his lips would be soft and gentle, that he would lead you through the kiss and deepen it for more. His hands would come to rest at your waist before encircling it, pulling you closer, flush, to his body. 

No! You can’t imagine that, you’re not allowed!

Internally, you scoffed. What kind of girl wasn’t allowed to imagine kissing her fiance? You knew the truth, however, that it wasn’t your place to imagine yourself in that position. That was reserved for the person he loved, who was, decidedly, not you. 

Tossing the packet, you made your way back to your way back to your desk. Settling into the pillowed surface of your chair, you browsed through your emails before noticing one from the marketing team.

From: limheesungmarketing1@okgaming.com

RE: MIRA’S AWAKENING Influencer Advertising

Hello Team Leader Seo,

We have decided that we would like to reach out to online influencers and streamers to assist in promoting Project Mira’s Awakening. A list of possible candidates is attached, along with their profiles and viewer analytics. We would like your input on any public figures you believe may be good candidates for this endeavor. Please reach out if you and your team come up with any candidates that are not already included in the attached file.

Additionally, we would like to create merchandise to provide for these public figures and we need to confirm with you and Graphics Team 2 on graphics we can include on merchandise items. You will find a list of items we are looking to make, along with graphics suggestions, attached as well. Please coordinate with GT 2 to send over finalized ideas and start creating the images.

Thank you,

Team Leader Lim

You considered the contents, feeling the eraser of your pencil tap against your lip, who could you suggest? You had your favorite streamers, but none aligned that well with the nature of the game you were producing, which meant the viewer base wouldn’t have enough crossover with your target audience. Running through a list of the streamers you watched regularly in your head, you stopped at one in particular. 

Goldenboy97. 

Jeon Jeongguk was quite popular and played enough combat-based games to have sufficient audience crossover, while still being intriguing for the puzzle aspect of the game. Not that you were biased, but he was your favorite creator at the moment. You jotted down his handle and a note to ask the rest of your team about their thoughts. 

Leaning back in your chair, you stared blankly at the screen as the emails continued flooding in. Slowly, but surely, your thoughts drifted back to the phone call with your mother. The wedding was next week, with the rehearsal dinner only being seven days away. 

You felt a strange combination of dread and giddiness, a swirl of emotional turmoil you weren’t ready to unpack. Hoseok was coming back tonight and you were picking him up from the train station. You’d probably have time to process your emotions then. Hoseok was staying at your apartment in the guest bedroom for a couple of weeks so he could be there through the whole wedding process. He had also mentioned looking for an apartment to move into in Seoul, which made you excited. You really wanted to have the college dream team together again.

The thoughts of the actual wedding were stoking your nerves, you still hadn’t talked to Yoongi since the last time you’d met. You weren’t sure of the protocol or if you should try to talk to him beforehand, especially about the ceremony. Too cowardly to act on your anxiety, you shut off your opened messaging app on your phone. You weren’t keen on finding out how Yoongi would respond to an unprompted message. 

The sound of your team packing up alerted you to the time, being slightly past five. You joined them in getting ready to leave before heading to the elevator. The rest of the group trekked slightly ahead while Song Ha walked slightly slower to stay back with you. 

“So, the wedding is next week. Are you excited?”

You chuckled nervously, “Yeah, you could call it that.”

“Ah, are you nervous? Makes sense. Just think, though, soon, you’ll be married to the love of your life! How exciting!”

Your insides felt queasy. You hadn’t told Song Ha about the nature of your relationship with your betrothed because you weren’t exactly sure how to explain it to someone who wasn’t familiar, nor did you want to deal with the embarrassment, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where are you going for your honeymoon?”

You bit your lip, “Nowhere, actually. We couldn’t get time off of work at the same time.” The honeymoon had long been decided as an unnecessary expense, and neither you nor Yoongi complained. Being stuck with him for weeks after the wedding in another country sounded like a nightmarish situation. You wouldn’t have minded a vacation though.

“Gosh, that sucks. Hopefully, you’ll be able to do something over the summer, maybe,” Song Ha pouted, swinging her work bag in line with her step. You smiled at her naivete.

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Hobi!”

You ran towards the taller man, throwing your arms around his upper body, “I missed you! It feels so nice to have you back in Seoul.”

Feeling his chest rumble with a laugh, you squeezed him harder before releasing him. 

“Feels good to be back too,” he responded, a bright, heart-shaped smile adorning his face, “Let me get my bags to your car.”

“Oh, right, let me help,” you nodded, reaching for the bigger suitcase to roll towards your car. Hoseok easily picked up the duffel bag lying at his feet and followed behind you. You had opted for driving to the station since his train had come too late for the buses to still be running, and you didn’t want to have to deal with paying for or lugging his baggage into a cab. 

After loading the luggage into your trunk, you both settled into the front seats of your well-worn car. You heard Hoseok chuckle while clicking in his seatbelt, “This certainly feels different from the drunk bus and taxi rides back to the campus dorms. Even if it’s about the same level as luxury.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hey, my car is reliable. The previous owner only had it for a couple of years before selling it off and she’s been perfectly good since then. Though, my mom would probably agree with you on the luxury bit.”

“Yeah, well, who wants to listen to her opinion anyway. Before I forget, thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here, I know it’ll probably be annoying with the wedding prep going on.”

“It’s no problem, seriously. Besides, a lot of my stuff’s been moved over to Yoongi’s for when I move after the wedding. I’m just keeping my apartment there in case I need it since I won’t be paying rent at Yoongi’s.” Keeping the lease on your apartment had been a conscious decision because you had figured you’d want a safe space away from the marriage drama and it wouldn’t be an extra hit to your income. What your mother and Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. 

“Has he really paid off his entire apartment? You’re marrying a proper chaebol,” Hoseok joked. 

You laughed lightly, a tinge of awkwardness at the idea that you really were, and you had no idea how he’d act in his own house. Tapping your fingers along the steering wheel, you tried to subtly change the topic, “Well, speaking of apartments, do you know where you’re going to be looking?”

Hoseok launched into a detailed plan he had for looking at rental properties in Seoul for both his apartment and the studio he wanted to open. You excitedly listened along, thrilled that he was planning on settling near you, as you drove to your own apartment. 

After you’d parked, Hoseok insisted on taking the large suitcase, claiming that only he was strong enough to lug it up the stairs. You only laughed a little bit at his sour expression when you showed him the perfectly working elevator. 

Punching in the code to your apartment, you swung open the door, making sure not to step food inside. A loud pop rang out and confetti sprayed out from the doorway.

“Surprise!”

Hoseok stumbled back, clutching at his chest and mouth agape at Joohee’s excited smile from inside the apartment, “Shit, Joohee, you scared me!”

You laughed loudly before grabbing his suitcase and rolling it inside, setting the duffel bag on top. Joohee began cleaning up the mess of confetti, Hoseok started to unpack what he’d need for the night, and you began unboxing the pizza that had arrived while Joohee was setting up. 

As the three of you settled into your living room, Hoseok already teasing Joohee, you felt like a void in your heart had been filled. The last few months had been so stressful and it hadn’t felt like you’d gotten a break emotionally in so long. The sounds of your friends chattering and laughing made you feel at ease. So, naturally, Hoseok had to ruin that.

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling about the rehearsal next week? Or the wedding, for that matter.”

You shifted in your position on the loveseat, feeling yourself frown, “Um, I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect. I can’t believe I’ll be married in just over a week.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you continued, “I haven’t talked to Yoongi in like six months. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You could feel yourself spiraling, but you had been holding in so many emotions that it felt like you couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “Honestly, I’m really scared. I don’t want this to be my life forever. I’m not ready, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Joohee got up from her spot on the couch to hug you, Hoseok joining soon after. Something about their touch comforting you pushed you over the edge, the dam broke, and tears began streaming down your cheeks. You sniffled pathetically, hating the level of vulnerability you were currently displaying. You hadn’t cried throughout this whole experience, but in the comforting presence of your closest friends, you couldn’t help it. 

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to marry him if it’s going to be like this. Why does my life have to be this way? Why can’t I be normal?”

Joohee and Hoseok only squeezed you in response, not having an answer to your questions. Your tears continued on until you couldn’t cry anymore and Joohee finally released you. She stood and smiled kindly at you, “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Water, please,” you said raspily, throat dry from all the crying. Joohee nodded before heading to the kitchen, leaving you with Hoseok who had shoved himself into the loveseat to further comfort you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly muffled by burying your face in Hoseok’s soft, cotton shirt. 

“You know you can always talk to us. I wish I could change this for you, that you didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, stroking your hair. 

“It is what it is,” you said, feeling much more mellow now that you’d cried out all your overwhelming emotions. 

“Still,” Hoseok insisted, “He has no reason to be such a jerk.” You shrugged, you felt the same but there wasn’t much you could do to change that. 

Joohee returned with a cup of water which you gratefully took and sipped. Suddenly feeling quite exhausted, and a headache coming on, you tapped Hoseok to get off of you, to which he complied and clambered off the loveseat.

“Sorry guys, I’m just so exhausted now. I really appreciate you being here, but I think I’m going to head to bed,” you stated, hugging both of them, before starting to gather the trash to clean up. 

Joohee laid a hand on your shoulder to stop you, “Go, get some rest. We’ll clean up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Hoseok exclaimed, and pushed you towards your bedroom, “Go to bed!”

Laughing, you acquiesced and headed into your bedroom to get ready to sleep. As you went through your nightly routine, you felt yourself feeling a bit calmer about the upcoming week. You had your two closest friends by your side. 

You were ready to handle anything that Yoongi threw at you.

Probably.

Yoongi lightly swirled the glass of whiskey between his fingers as he sat at his desk in his brown leather chair. By this time next week, he would be getting married. 

His eyes drifted towards the manila folder lying at the edge of his desk, a small water stain on the corner. Inside were the files on his soon-to-be wife, Seo Y/N. He took a sip of his whiskey, the smoky flavour traveling down his throat, as he considered his fiancee. 

He didn’t know what to make of her. She just seemed so meek and obedient, which wasn’t at all appealing. He didn’t remember much of her from before the arrangement, aside from vague interactions between them and the Kim siblings. She had seemed quite timid then too. 

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, setting his glass on his desk. He didn’t want to do this marriage. It was a chore, really. 

Yoongi didn’t necessarily have anyone he was looking to marry, but having to pretend to be exclusive with some girl he didn’t care about wasn’t conducive to the bachelor lifestyle he’d cultivated. He’d set his ground rules, and she’d agreed, pretty easily, another thing that irked Yoongi. 

Couldn’t she stand up for herself? Or say anything at all that was her own opinion?

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, he supposed she had said something that night. She’d wanted to be friends. He hadn’t been expecting that.

He figured it might be some condition about how she didn’t want to work or for him to stop seeing other people, but, instead, she’d simply asked for his friendship. And he’d refused. 

Of course he did, it went against his other rule. He wanted to keep his life separate from this artificial marriage and that included remaining nothing but acquaintances. He’d have to be steadfast, he decided. That night, when he’d seen your imploring expression with hope shining in your eyes, he’d almost agreed. He wasn’t sure why that was, or if he even wanted to know, but he couldn’t let it happen again. 

Despite your docile and unassuming nature, you were dangerous. And you didn’t seem to know it, which made you all the more so.

previous / masterlist / next 

[t-chlmt-blog]

a step behind

ADHD!reader x Spencer Reid

when reader gets overstimulated at the office spencer finds her in an odd spot and helps calm her down.

word cound: 0.7k

warnings: neurodivergent reader and spencer, mentions of breakdowns, i dont think there anything else but lmk!

also pls be kind this is my first fic! and if i continue to write for adhd!reader most of what i write ab is stuff that i personally deal with while having adhd, it can be different for everyone so pls take everything with a grain of salt!

The hum of the AC in the bullpen is boring into your skull. Along with the chatter of other agents, all the sensations are getting to be too much. The stack of paperwork on your desk hasn’t gotten any smaller in the past hour and your legs started aching from sitting too long. It’s all too much. Morgan and Prentiss are chatting no more than 10 feet away and you can’t concentrate , not with everything going on.

Standing up and pushing away from the desk, you quickly slip by the duo whose conversation you couldn’t follow mumbling a quick “excuse me” with your head down.

Ducking behind the door to the stairwell, you sit down on the first few steps trying to calm yourself down. Nobody really ever comes this way unless the elevators were out of service. The stairwell is quiet but each small movement creates an echo that provokes that suffocating feeling of overstimulation. Normally in a situation like this, you’d let Spencer know and he’d sit with you, toning down his rambling as he lists grounding techniques for you to try, however, today was a bad one gone worse and the thought of anyone talking is almost enough to send you into a full blow meltdown. You feel hot and stuffy and realize the water bottle, full of ice cold water from this morning was still at your desk. Great.

You’re focused on the cool tile beneath you, laying your palms down trying to cool down, when you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. You hadn’t payed much attention to the fact Spencer had been missing from the bullpen and didn’t even realize he had been a floor down this whole time. Sometimes when he needs a bit longer to think he takes the stairs to his destination.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked with that slight smile and gentle voice. He knows all too well the struggles of neurodiversity and finds that he two of you can relate to each other more so than the rest of the team.

Your head whips up and to the right, where Spencer has suddenly appeared, why didn’t you hear his footsteps before? “Just needed a second, it got kinda stuffy out there”, a simple explanation he understood to be more than you’re making it out to be. Years of masking and trying to fit in, you could handle a lot before you would totally break down, having learned where your threshold for this sort of thing was so as to not make a fool of yourself in front of other people.

“Are you ok, do you feel well?” Spencer asks, putting down his files next to you, attempting to look for any tell tale signs of illness or injury. When he finds nothing too concerning, just your flushed skin, starting to bead with sweat, he sits next to you. He’s been looking out for you a lot more recently, both in and out of the office and field.

“I just didn’t get enough sleep and the bullpen’s too loud and those lights were starting to bug me.” As soon as you told Spencer the reason for your hiding, he understood. He’s no stranger to feeling overstimulated like this and knows you aren’t either. Conversations on the jet and in the break room detailed the feelings you both shared being neurodivergent. Although Spencers brain worked almost completely opposite of yours, you both understood each other fairly well.

“Here,” he says gently taking your hand in his, feeling the heat, placing them in a new spot on he tile. Since he’d come up the stairs, you hadn’t moved an inch, it felt refreshing against your hot palms once again. “Would leaning against the wall help at all?” You hadn’t tried it but inched backwards and turned so the your back connected with the wall.

Your eyes close in relief. You hadn’t realized it but from ay one, Spencer has started to pick up on all the details and quirks that make you , you. Of course his eidetic memory helps, but somethings he just gets.

Starting to cool down, in the comfortable silence you open your eyes and look to Spencer and his brown eyes and smile. Joining such a tight knit team was intimidating but Spencer always made you feel wanted.

[drivestraight]

If take responsibility won't be finished, could you tell us what was going on w the abo aspect of it (Lando specifically) bc that was what I was the most curious about

here's like. a scene. that should explain it.

Oscar flew to Qatar a day after Lando.

They usually flew to all the races together, but sometimes Lando flew with Max, and Max had an earlier flight schedule.

Then as soon as Oscar landed, as soon as he got cell service, he got a phone call from Zak.

There was an emergency meeting. As Oscar was driven to the hotel, he kept asking what was wrong, who would be at the meeting, why everyone seemed so panicked, if god forbid someone died, because that’s how everyone was acting, but no one was able to give him any answers. Oscar realized probably they knew just as much as he did.

Zak sounded uncomfortable on the phone. He looked even more uncomfortable in the conference room they secured in the hotel, sitting at the head of the table, next to Andrea. The only other people at the table were Jon, Lando’s manager Mark, and the team physician. It was strange: Lando’s immediate team was here, but Lando wasn’t.

“Where’s Lando?” were the first words out of Oscar’s mouth. 

Zak’s face twitched. Andrea and Jon looked away. Mark pressed his lips together. The team physician turned her head to look at Zak.

Then Zak took a deep breath. Disgust curled on his mouth as he told Oscar how they found Lando that morning, changed.

He sat in silence for a long time. They all did. They were looking at Oscar, gauging his response.

Oscar only swallowed, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay.”

The world was breaking open.

“Is he alright?” Oscar asked, throat tight.

He had to force himself to meet Zak’s eyes.

This time, Zak didn’t respond. Jon did. His face was pale, and he answered, “He’s still going through the changes right now. He’ll miss the race.”

“Oh,” Oscar said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He felt lightheaded with anger.

He didn’t have to ask how it happened. He knew how things like these supposedly went—but they were old wives’ tales. Crude things young alphas spout. Rumors they’d spread about alphas they didn’t like. Jokes they would sneer when they were too young to know better, too young to be scared, too young to realize what it’d mean. None of it was real.

It was different, hearing this, as an alpha. Oscar knew this. It made something crawl up the back of his neck—a feeling he couldn’t put a name to. It was worse than mere disgust; it was electric hot. Zak was the only other alpha in the room—Oscar could tell that he felt it too.

It’d have to take a number of times, a number of knots. It doesn’t happen easily. It doesn’t happen by accident. It doesn’t happen all at once.

He wondered how Lando had felt when his body was starting to change. If he had even noticed. If he had even cared.

He tried to focus: he looked at the stupid television screen mounted to the wall behind Zak. He could see his own silhouette.

Andrea explained, “We’re flying Pato in.”

Oscar chewed the inside of his cheek raw. He could feel his mouth coming apart. Iron on his tongue. He thought about Lando, changing. He bit the inside of his mouth harder. Oscar had to stop thinking about it. It was a few weeks to his rut. He couldn’t remember if he popped a scent blocker pill this morning. He slept on the plane. He was barely awake when he was being ushered into the car, and everyone had been in such a rush to get him to the hotel that he hadn’t thought to apply a patch.

If he kept thinking about it, he knew that Zak would smell it.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up,” Oscar said, his voice strange to his own ears. He didn’t sound like himself and he didn’t feel like himself. He felt animal. He shifted in his seat, making to leave—to get out of there before he did something stupid, like punch the wall in front of his bosses.

And then Andrea cleared his throat.

“Oscar,” he said, voice calm, “that isn’t all.”

Oscar’s teeth clattered and ground together. He stayed in place.

He drew in a breath, then went on, “In a few days, probably Sunday night, early Monday, we have been advised that—Lando will likely have a heat.”

It was hard to hear. He liked it better when they were talking around it. Not putting any real terms to it. Lando and heat made him feel lightheaded, dizzy and out of control.

“Oh,” he said, and he didn’t know why they were telling him this. “Okay.”

But maybe that was a lie. Oscar knew—he just didn’t want to.

They didn’t have to say the words, but he knew, instinctively, what they wanted from him, what they were asking from him. He wasn’t an idiot.

He licked his mouth and played pretend. When his tongue swiped the corner of his mouth, he thought of Lando’s nervous tick, and started to feel sick all over again.

“He’ll have, like—” It felt weird in Oscar’s mouth to say, but he pushed forward, “A knotting aid, and stuff, right?”

He would push for that. Something like that, where Oscar wouldn’t have to be involved, where no one would have to be involved, was their best bet.

And then the team physician finally spoke up and said, “He can’t.”

Oscar’s mouth felt dry. His throat hurt. There it was again: the taste of blood. “What?” he asked, then added, “It’s just a heat—”

The shame only came later.

“It’s a first heat,” the doctor interrupted, looking Oscar coldly in the eyes: head-on.

“He’ll need an alpha. It’s too dangerous otherwise,” she continued, and intensely, Oscar felt this: that he hated her, that he wanted to rip her throat out. More than anything, he hated himself for thinking that. He couldn’t get himself into order. How could Lando be so stupid?

“Then get the one who did this to him,” Oscar said, jaw clenching.

“Oscar,” Zak interrupted, “we can’t—”

“Why not?” Oscar asked. His voice was rough and guttural. No one was answering him, so he swallowed and tried to calm himself down. He hated how angry he was getting. Then he asked, “Do you know who it is?” and he felt even worse.

Zak looked angry too, but it wasn’t directed at Oscar. “Yes,” he said, “we do.”

“Then get that alpha, not me—”

“It’s a conflict of interest, Oscar,” Andrea said, and the world slowed.

“What?”

Andrea exhaled.

We cannot risk the other teams finding out,” he said, and Oscar still didn’t understand.

“Then have them sign an NDA,” Oscar said. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Oscar,” Andrea said, and Oscar hated the sound of his name in everyone else’s mouths, like they were trying to calm him down. “It won’t work, even if he does. It’s still a conflict.”

“Why?” Oscar asked, getting the feeling that he was missing out on something. That they were all still keeping something from him.

He realized he was asking the wrong question.

“Who is it?” Oscar asked, and a sinking feeling was starting to settle in his gut.

There were rumors of course. Nasty ones. Mostly by losers online who didn’t have anything better to do with their lives. It started growing throughout the season, intensifying. They were given a narrative and they made do with it—ran with it.

But just because they said it, didn’t mean it had to be true.

“No,” Oscar said, because he knew it wasn’t true. “It’s not—”

“It is,” Mark said. “He was calling for him in the morning.”

Oscar let out a noise that was half between a laugh and a scoff. He wanted to say something stupid like maybe he meant the other one, but Oscar knew that couldn’t have been the case.

He looked down at his lap. His head was reeling. He felt sick. Had to push the nausea away.

Had to focus.

“Okay, sure,” he said, jaw going tough. He couldn’t think about it, what they were telling him. “But I won’t do it.”

He had to draw the line here. He had to draw the line somewhere.

Zak looked at him with heat, and Oscar gathered they were having something like a standoff. Zak has never liked him so much, at least not as much as he’s always liked Lando, and Oscar, in that moment, realized why: that maybe, deep down, Zak had always seen him as a threat.

“It’s your duty,” Zak said, “as his teammate.”

Oscar shook his head. His hands were in fists under the table. He knew his face was red. “It’s not in my contract to clean up after my teammate’s messes.”

It was getting tense: Oscar could see Jon and Mark and the physician go rigid, shifting away from Oscar, from Zak.

Andrea was calm, and Oscar’s eyes drifted to him when he said, with firmness, but with a different sort of decisiveness than Zak, “You have to give him your full support.”

Oscar almost laughed. That’s what I’ve been doing all year, he didn’t say.

Instead, he asked, “What happens if I don’t?”

Andrea pursed his mouth. There was a buzzing in Oscar’s ears when Andrea said, “We would like to not have to explore other avenues.”

Oscar didn’t feel like arguing anymore. He didn’t say anything more. He only asked if he could go now, and they all gave him a careful look until Zak nodded his head, decisive. Oscar rushed to his feet and stormed out of the room.

He paused once he was out in the corridor. Leaned against the wall. Shut his eyes. Didn’t think about it.

He didn’t think about it:

Lando, twisting and writhing around in bed. Lando, gasping into the sheets. Lando, sweating. Lando, in pain. Lando, the heat of his body. Lando, the hard edges softening against his nature. Lando, where he must have been coming undone, wet and open.

He didn’t think about it:

Lando, still an alpha then, taking Max’s knot, huge and swelling inside of him, the point of no return.

[gweniala]

Some thoughts on The Left Hand of Darkness (by Ursula K. Le Guin)

I have finished listening to a recording of Ursula K. Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness, and I have thoughts.

Having a genderless Gethenian society but calling everyone a "he", because you've gotta choose a pronoun in the 1960s, is the same choice I've made with the Neverhoodian society. It made me feel immediate kinship with Le Guin. It's diegetic, too, as male still appears to be the default in the Ekumen. Genly Ai complains early on that he has to call them something, so he calls them all guys and then gets super uncomfortable about their feminine ("effeminate") aspects. When he calls the same person "a landlady" and a "he", it's priceless. Personally, I approve of the use of "he" throughout the novel, because I thrive on homoerotic tension. I do wonder, however, if we in the 2020s are already somewhat past that outrage that a real manly man should feel at seeing an effeminate man. Ai's disgusted remarks about the feminine traits he sees in others sound a little bigoted to me today. I wonder if it was impossible back then to predict ("thought experiment", as Le Guin said in the foreword) that gender roles would go out of fashion in the future. Pretty near future, at that. Not the first time I read an old sci-fi novel and wonder why, after technology has changed everything and thousands of years have passed, gender roles are still frozen at "man politician, woman at home with children". I think it was Dune that gave me that feeling previously.

The folk tale chapters were utterly fascinating. Only after I finished the book and confirmed on Wikipedia that Estraven swore kemmering with his brother Arek, had a child with him and was widowed, and only after that did he make a "second vow, a false one" with Ashra, did I realise that the first incest-related folk tale actually applied to Estraven. At that time, I thought it was just to introduce kemmer and Gethenian culture in general. Does this mean Estraven tried to kill himself upon Arek's death but came back? The later folk tale chapters, like about the foretelling of death or Estraven the traitor, were more obviously immediately relevant. And still amazing. Simple story in-sets that not only gave background and cultural context, but also foreshadowed later events. Awesome storytelling tool.

During and after Estraven's daring jailbreak, Le Guin began describing him more feminine and caring, and every time I thought: "No. Don't do it. You're gonna put them in a tent for two months, kemmer rolls along TWICE, and you're on a whole journey about understanding and building up trust. Le Guin no, don't make the main characters have sex." And… she doesn't! The restraint during kemmer was pre-established when Estraven was unsuccessfully seduced, the faithfulness of those who had vowed kemmering was also set in stone… but I was still worried the low-hanging fruit would be plucked. And it wasn't. It's funny that, of the whole alternating storytelling by Ai himself and from Estraven's journal, this scene where they nearly have sex is the only part told from both their POVs. And their accounts differ a little, endearingly. At the end of the night, they both agree "yep having sex is a bad idea" and then Estraven's second kemmer is not even mentioned. I thought they might at least stop and have a break, akin to treating a woman in kid gloves when she's menstruating, but no, Estraven continues hauling that sledge right through his kemmers. Now that I think of it, it was probably preferable to spending two days in a tent with Ai… who is constantly cold… and hasn't got laid in two years… I mean yes, this was probably the topic of the first fanfiction of this book. Like I said. Low-hanging fruit.

Still on the topic of the trek across the glacier, it fascinated me when the characters delved (sometimes implicitly) into the strengths and weaknesses of either sex. Estraven describes Ai as "strong but fragile", and that strength is used by the plot several times, like when Estraven plummets into an ice pit and Ai manages to pull both him and the sledge safely out of it. Funnily enough, Estraven's endurance and long-term thinking are not appreciated by Ai explicitly. He's still in that pit of "manly good, womanly bad". But it was very much on my mind, and I like to think it was intended by Le Guin.

I was intrigued by the bit of worldbuilding that Gethenians don't know which sex they'll become during kemmer and have no control over it. It's heavily implied in-universe that, actually, bearing a child as a woman is more valued than siring one as a man. Ai's landlady sighs that he (never stops being funny, let Ai out of his confused bisexual hellhole) has never born a child of his flesh. In succession, most prominently with king Argaven, children born of the person's womb are the default heirs. I do wonder what happens to all the kids who are born out of a kemmering vow, but I think it was said they just stay with the mother and become a part of her hearth. When lactation stops 6-8 months after birth, the child is brought up communally. Without a "dad" sometimes, but with lots of uncles. That's a very reassuring fantasy for a mother of two babies who lives away from her extended family. But the fantasy cools a little when Le Guin mentions that, in Orgoreyn, it is common to influence which sex you come into during kemmer… with drugs. Wouldn't that sorta… reintroduce gender roles all at once? Man, what's not having a child of your flesh when you can have all the kids you want and you don't have to stop your starlit political career for them? A bit of a cold shower in the comforting warmth of this particular thought experiment.

I only realised Genly Ai had adopted some of Gethen's worldview when he described the timeline at the end of the book, and said there was no rush. He goes "17 years to the nearest inhabited world, 50 years to the core worlds, eh, who cares, no hurry, there's a lot of time". Which is a sentiment he has never shown yet, and which he has directly attributed to the Gethenian way of thinking. It was cool. I'm sure there were other signs (most explicitly when he's made uneasy by the clear-cut sexes of his crewmates, some voices too shrill, others too deep), but this was the one that caught my attention.

I enjoyed that, most of the time, I genuinely could not tell what Le Guin was going to do with Estraven. Ai's fate was evident, since he's telling the novel in retrospect. He even gets his foretelling that his mission will be successful and Gethen will join the Ekumen within 5 years. Ai was going to survive and see his mission completed. But Estraven, from his introduction to the parade to his haunting upon re-entering his country, I couldn't predict. After he's initially exiled, I thought he might drop from the narrative altogether. Then you get his own storytelling and realise, oop, no, that's a secondary POV character. Only when Ai is sent to the labour camp and Estraven gets all distraught and goes after him did I realise, shite, that's the deuteragonist. The partner, the love interest, the narrative yin to yang. And when he gets shot in the end, I was like… "Okay I realise this was the most poignant way you could have spun it, but also, how dare you. This is the literal spirit of the Czech phrase 'you should stop at the best part'. AI HAS USED THE L-WORD, YOU GOT A GREAT BROMANCE GOING, AND YOU END IT FOR FEELS."

Ai's description of the night raid on the Orgota village across the Karhide border, and then his description of the four days in the transport… It's dry. Matter-of-fact. And scary AS FUCK. I was like, are we in the horror genre now? Why is Ai leaving out all emotions from his storytelling? Is it because he's a manly man and won't admit to them? Is it because all the prisoners were so stoic that no one, beside the one Gethenian in kemmer, felt terror? Is it because he's making a report to his higher-ups and doesn't think his emotions are relevant? I had to fill in all that terror myself, and that was not comfortable. Le Guin goes: "I remember distinctly that I planned to tell the inspector I didn't want the drug shot" (okay solid plan if not likely to succeed) "then the inspector would turn into the weaver Faxa and we would discuss the handdarata" (wait no, I think you're hallucinating) "and after I got the shot for real, I don't remember anything else" (…um?! have we just lost the main character?!) before finally the story switches to Estraven's POV. You know Ai has plot armour. He'll survive. But also, damn.

I think "bisexual" was used in the novel as opposed to "androgynous", but it was hilarious to think it implied that in the Ekumen, bixesuality (and not heterosexuality) is the norm. In my little speculative heaven, Ai got confused why all the Gethenian kemmer couples (mention of kemmerhouse orgies notwithstanding) are heterosexual. Like where's the girls having sex with girls and guys having sex with guys? If having sex with a man as the manly man he is (I'm sorry Ai, you are just so… unintentionally misogynist) was pretty standard in his society, it would also add weight to the decision not to have sex with Estraven. Which, you know, was probably mostly a matter of mutual respect, but it's comforting to think there wasn't that "WAIT WOULD THAT MAKE ME GAY" pulling the strings. Bisexual Ekumen for the win.

Great novel. Great quotes. High among them, patriotism being not a love for one's homeland, but a fear of the other. Ugh, that one's relevance stung. Plus, of course, Arek's parting words to Estraven: Light is the left hand of darkness, and darkness the right hand of light. Two are one, life and death, lying together like lovers in kemmer, like hands joined together, like the end and the way.

Go read The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin. It's awesome.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hi ducky can I please have an emergency request? can u write a story for a y/n who keeps her emotions in bc every time she tries to tell someone someone else complains about something.

and I think u started watching black clover so can u write it with luck and magna ? either together or separate is okey.

thank u 💔

Yes you sure can.

Bumping this one up bc I’m really feeling this hardcore rn

I may make this kinda self-indulgent with the issues y/n is facing???

My dms are open if you wanna vent! I’m here for you, anon. 💜💜💜💜

CW BELOW THE CUT: none.

Luck Voltia and Magna Swing

Things weren’t going too well for you, there’s no way to hide that fact.

From whatever it was, your day was poisoned by unhappiness, and you didn’t know what to do to aid it.

Of course, you refused to let any of the other bulls in on how you were feeling. It was especially difficult to keep Asta from pestering you; the kid is very attentive.

“Show. Never tell.” Is what you would tell yourself, forcing the feelings back into a tiny box.

You tried so hard to keep your face up as you walked through the base, but most days it was impossible to get anything besides a hopeless frown.

When asked how you were, you shrugged it off, merely explaining that you just have a “resting sad face”

Many believed you, nodding with an “ohh” while walking away.

But Magna we’re not buying into any of your nonsense. The two would exchange worried glances at your excuses.

When the team slowly gathered together in the living room after dinner, you were not doing great whatsoever. Your mood was sour, and you were barely focused on anything.

“Hey, everything alright?” Asta asked as he sat next to you. “You didn’t eat at dinner, and usually you have a great appetite.”

You sighed with a broken smile, “To be honest I’m-“

“Oh my god, Asta, did you see what Yami had me doing today? I didn’t get a break once! I’m so tired of being his wheels all the time,” Finral whined as he plopped down next to the anti-magic user.

To your dismay, everyone gathered around their senior to listen to his tale of woe, leaving you behind and ignored again.

You stand up and retreat to your bedroom, leaving without a single word.

You didn’t have much time alone before there was a gentle knocking on your door. “(Y/N)? Can we come in?” It was Luck’s voice…?

You didn’t reply, instead burying your head into your pillow. You heard their bickering through the door.

“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way-“

“Magna no! They didn’t give us permission to come in-“

“And what if something happened to them?? Would you rather us stand out here and do nothing when-“

“You need to respect their wishes!”

“You can come in,” you say stoically, not moving from your previous position.

The door opens slowly, revealing the two bulls.

“Hey, careful doing that,” Magna quickly made his way over to your bed, turning your head toward them. “You’ll suffocate if you don’t leave room for air.”

“Whatever…” you murmur, eyes glazed over.

“(N/N),” Luck begins, “Are you okay?”

You sit upright to greet them “Yeah I’m-“

“No, like actually okay,” he interrupts, moving to sit next to you.

There’s a solemn silence…

“Hey, (N/N), tell us what’s going on, kid,” Magna hums as he brushes a few stray hairs out of your face, sitting on your other side.

They wait with baited breath for your reply, worry evident in their eyes.

“I’m not okay… and I don’t know what to do,” you finally confess in a sotto-voce tone.

Both put a supportive hand on your back or shoulder, listening carefully.

“Everything is falling apart… and I-I’m not sure what to do. I’m usually g-good at fixing things but…” you laugh a bit in pitifulness, “I can’t even fix myself.”

“You don’t have to fix yourself; that’s why we’re here,” the mowhawked mage mutters, squeezing your shoulder gingerly.

“But what if I can’t be fixed? What if I have to live like this every day?”

“Nothing lasts forever,” Luck’s sweet voice chimes. “Time won’t stop whenever you feel sad, it will keep moving and you’ll be forced to feel better.”

“It feels so hopeless… nobody cares…” you whisper

“That’s not-“ he attempts.

“It is true. The moment Fin complained, everyone turned to listen to him instead. I don’t feel heard or respected… I don’t-“ tears start to fill your eyes “I feel so alone.”

“Hey,” Magna’s low voice sounds, “You are far from alone…” he wipes a falling tear with his thumb. “You have people who love you and are willing to support you every step of the way.”

“Yeah!” A quiet cheer of approval left the lightning mage. “You know how much we love you, and we would do anything for you to feel like yourself again.”

The flame mage gets in front of you, locking your eyes. “Tell us anything that’s on your mind… what’s making you feel like less than you are? Anything is fair game, don’t be afraid.”

You look around at their concerned faces once more, and suddenly everything falls apart. Your shoulders heave up and down as your body is wracked with the sobs you’ve been keeping hidden.

As you wail loudly, the two instantly move in to hug you. Magna cradles your head against his chest while Luck hugs around your torso and lays his head on your lap.

The two wordlessly cling onto you as you spill your tale of woe. Many—having heard your pained cries— attempt to check in multiple times. Magna shooed them instantly, shooting a death glare to anyone who tried to enter.

When you finally finished, you slumped downward, resting in their loving embrace. “Thank you…”

“Anytime, kid… anytime.” Magna whispered as he pats your shoulder.

When no response was given from the Cherry berserker, the two of you look down to notice that he had fallen asleep on your lap.

And for the first time that day, you started laughing.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————