#i mean probably deserved and fair but like can you not?

[coffeecacao]

Okay, let's talk about the coming out scene, because people are saying Taash was the one out of line.

Shathann is a sympathetic character. That does not make her a good person. She saved her child from a life of servitude by leaving the country she loved and tried to preserve that culture in her child. I respect that. I also wish there was a way to encourage Taash to embrace both sides of their culture.

BUT.

From the moment we meet her, Shathann criticizes literally everything her child does. Taash runs an errand for her, and Shathann criticizes their posture, pronunciation, gender presentation, AND sexuality, completely unprovoked, yes, in one fucking conversation. Shathann invites Taash over for dinner and then makes Taash cook that fucking dinner. And this has happened before, as stated in the dialogue. Taash is so affected by this behavior and probably worse they have endured their entire life that they say "you don't get to tell me who I am" at a simple question about their heritage, out of pure instinct.

Now to the actual scene.

Taash invites their mother to their new home and prepares a dinner for her, which Shathann immediately criticizes and has Taash make vegetables to go with. Can you imagine inviting someone into your home for dinner you prepare only for them to shit on it and ask you to cook more. And Taash does so, with a grunt. I'd be like bitch you're in my house, I cooked, eat. But they just do it.

Then they say it. "Im nonbinary." Shathann asks what that means, completely fair, and Taash explains that it means they're not a man or a woman.

Shathann asks if this is because she criticizes their gender presentation. Now listen. I have a parent who thinks nearly everything "wrong" with me is a reaction to their actions. It pisses me off. So Taash is getting reasonably frustrated, and insists that's not why. VALID. They were asked a question and they answered.

Let's talk about the Qun and gender identity. Yes they have a word for people who identify as a different gender than they were assigned. But this is implied to apply to trans men and women, not nonbinary people, so Shathann is asking Taash if they "just" identify as a man, because that's something Shathann can better understand, something more convenient for her to process. Sort of like when trans people come out to someone and are asked if they're "just gay."

No. And Taash says no. They have explained who they are. If Shathann was just having a hard time processing it that would be one thing, but she basically talked over Taash and tried to suggest that they were just a man, which they are not. Taash is being vulnerable. Taash doesn't even HAVE to tell Shathann this, but they want to, they think she deserves to know.

And what Taash says next is not purely to do with this one conversation, as explicit in the text. "why am I never enough for you." Never. Not now. We have seen Shathann critique Taash in every scene they share, and that's with a whole other person present who is not in the family. We don't know what happens in private. Shathann signed her child up for a fucking war without even talking to them about it. What Taash says is the build up of years of being talked over and criticized for everything they do, provoked by offering themselves to that person in a vulnerable position only to be talked over and criticized more.

"Why am I never enough for you."

And Shathann does not answer. She doesnt say "of course you are." Even if she disagreed with Taash's identity, which would be shitty, she could still affirm that they are enough for her. She doesn't.

She fucking leaves.

Maybe she thinks that's what Taash wants. Maybe not. But if someone asks you something like that, you affirm them. You say they are enough. Especially if they're your fucking child. But no, this conversation is too inconvenient for Shathann, she's not getting her way like she did when she signed Taash up for a war without their consent, so she just leaves. She could've said "I don't understand, but I love you." She couldve said anything. But she just left.

I'm sad she died. Im glad she accepted her child in the end. But no, Taash was not in any way out of line in this conversation.

Shathann was.

[amethystarachnid]

Now that you have finished the Holiday Special, I would like to request a part two of "Second Chance", please. I would love to see more of their love 🥺 living together, getting married, kids, all the cuteness possible! Thank you

SECOND CHANCE - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 11k ( I can't believe the either)

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said <3

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ TW(s): none I think (?)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The mornings in the Stark Tower penthouse always start the same: sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, soft music humming in the background (Tony insists on curating daily playlists because "waking up deserves a soundtrack"), and the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen.

Your life has settled into a rhythm, an odd but comforting blend of luxury, chaos, and unfiltered love. It’s been over a year since you moved in, and even though the world now knows you as Tony Stark’s girlfriend—a title that comes with its fair share of public scrutiny—it still feels a little surreal when you wake up next to him.

This morning, you’re the first to wake, your cheek pressed against his chest. His arm is draped lazily around you, his breathing steady, a slight snore rumbling now and then. You stifle a laugh as you carefully extricate yourself from his hold, but before you can fully escape, his fingers tighten around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is thick with sleep, and his eyes are barely open.

“To get coffee,” you reply, smiling. “Unless you’re planning to hold me hostage all morning.”

He pulls you back against him, burying his face in your hair. “Tempting. But if you’re making coffee, I might let you go.”

You laugh, wriggling free and padding toward the kitchen. By the time the coffee is ready, Tony has shuffled out of bed, his hair a mess and his Stark Industries-branded pajama pants slightly askew. He leans against the counter, watching you with a sleepy grin as you pour two mugs.

“This is why I keep you around,” he says, taking the mug you hand him.

“Oh, really? Not for my sparkling personality or my unparalleled charm?”

He smirks, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “That too. But mostly the coffee.”

Living with Tony means life is never boring. Between his work at Stark Industries, his time with the Avengers, and his natural tendency to attract chaos, there’s always something happening.

Take last week, for example. You came home to find a half-assembled Iron Man suit sprawled across the living room, with Tony perched on the couch, wearing the gauntlet and testing out some new tech.

“Tony, why is there a missile launcher on my side of the couch?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked up, completely unbothered. “Oh, that’s not a missile launcher. It’s a miniaturized EMP. Totally harmless unless you’re an evil robot.”

You sighed, stepping over a piece of armor. “And what about this?”

“That’s a missile launcher,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly. “But don’t worry, it’s deactivated. Probably.”

Despite the chaos, there’s a sweetness to your everyday life. The little moments, like when he sneaks up behind you while you’re cooking, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing kisses to your neck. Or the nights when you curl up on the couch together, a bowl of popcorn between you, as he insists on watching “classic cinema” (which, in Tony’s mind, includes Die Hard and Back to the Future).

And then there are the spicy moments. Tony has a knack for turning the most mundane situations into opportunities for seduction.

Like the time you were trying to reorganize the pantry, and he walked in, shirtless and smirking.

“Need a hand?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

“I’m fine,” you replied, reaching for a high shelf.

But then his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly so you could grab the jar you were reaching for. When he set you down, his hands didn’t move, and you found yourself pressed against the counter, his lips brushing your ear.

“Are you sure you don’t need help with anything else?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Needless to say, the pantry didn’t get reorganized that day.

Of course, being Tony Stark’s girlfriend also means attending more fancy events than you ever thought possible. Charity galas, board meetings, tech expos—you’ve seen it all.

The prep for these events is almost as much fun as the events themselves. Tony insists on helping you pick out your dress, claiming he has an eye for fashion (which, annoyingly, he kind of does).

“What about this one?” you ask, holding up a sleek black gown.

He tilts his head, considering. “It’s nice. But I think something with a little more… drama.”

“Drama?”

He grins, pulling a shimmering gold dress from the rack. “Now this says ‘I’m with Tony Stark.’”

“You mean it says ‘I’m a disco ball.’”

“Exactly.”

In the end, you settle on a dress that’s somewhere between glamorous and understated—enough to make you feel confident but not so flashy that you’ll blend in with Tony’s usual flair.

When the night of the event arrives, he’s already dressed in one of his custom suits, complete with a matching pocket square. He watches you as you get ready, leaning against the doorway with a look that’s equal parts admiration and mischief.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” you tease as you apply your lipstick.

“Absolutely,” he says without hesitation. “Have you seen yourself?”

By the time you arrive at the event, the cameras are already flashing, reporters shouting questions as you step onto the red carpet. Tony slips his arm around your waist, pulling you close as he waves to the crowd, his confidence as effortless as ever.

“Smile, sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear. “We’re the hottest couple in the room.”

Inside, the atmosphere is just as dazzling—chandeliers, champagne, and a sea of well-dressed guests. Tony works the room like the natural showman he is, introducing you to CEOs, celebrities, and politicians as if you’ve been a part of this world forever.

But even in the midst of the crowd, his attention is never far from you. He’ll brush his hand against yours as you pass each other, steal a kiss when no one’s looking, or whisper a sarcastic comment about someone’s over-the-top outfit, making you stifle a laugh.

And when the night finally winds down and you’re back home, kicking off your heels and collapsing onto the couch, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you as he kisses you like he’s been waiting all night to do it.

“You were amazing tonight,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

“So were you,” you reply, smiling against his lips.

Your life with Tony isn’t perfect—no relationship is. There are arguments, moments when his work takes over, or when the pressure of being in the spotlight feels overwhelming. But through it all, there’s an unshakable bond between you, a sense that no matter what comes your way, you’ll face it together.

Like the time you had a fight over him missing dinner—again—because he was working on a new suit. You stormed out of the lab, fuming, and didn’t speak to him for the rest of the night. But the next morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes, Tony standing in the kitchen wearing an apron that read “Genius, Billionaire, Pancake Enthusiast.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding up a plate of slightly burnt pancakes. “I suck at balancing work and life sometimes. But I’m trying. For you.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him after that.

And then there was the time he got you your own lab space in the tower, complete with every piece of equipment you could ever want.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said, your voice soft with awe as you took it all in.

“I wanted to,” he replied, his hands in his pockets as he watched your reaction. “You deserve to have your own space. Somewhere to build, create, do whatever you want.”

You turned to him, tears in your eyes, and he just shrugged, trying to play it off. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for you.”

The sun is setting, and the sky outside the penthouse windows glows in a palette of oranges, pinks, and purples that melt into one another like watercolors. New York sprawls out below, the city alive with its usual energy—traffic buzzing, lights flickering on, and the faint hum of life that never seems to rest. But up here, in the warmth of Tony’s bedroom, the world feels far away, like it belongs to someone else.

You’re standing at the window, your arms crossed lightly over your chest, wearing nothing but one of Tony’s old Black Sabbath shirts. It’s oversized and soft from years of wear, falling just enough to graze the tops of your thighs. Your hair is slightly messy from the day’s lazy lounging, and your bare feet sink into the plush rug beneath you. The scene feels like something out of a dream, the city sparkling in the distance and the man you love moving behind you.

Tony’s voice breaks the silence, a quiet rumble that makes you smile without even turning to look. “You know, you’re ruining the view.”

You glance back at him, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said,” he replies, lounging on the bed with a lazy smirk. His head is propped up on one hand, his shirt unbuttoned and his tie hanging loose from earlier in the day. He looks like he’s stepped out of a photo shoot for Genius, Billionaire, and Dangerously Handsome Quarterly. “I mean, who’s going to look at a city when you’re standing there looking like that?”

You roll your eyes, fighting the grin that tugs at your lips as you turn back to the window. “That was smooth, Stark. Really. Ten out of ten.”

“Only ten?”

You don’t answer, just shake your head with a soft laugh, and you hear him shift behind you, the mattress creaking slightly as he gets up.

A moment later, his arms slip around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. You relax into him instinctively, your hands coming to rest over his. The warmth of his touch seeps into you, grounding you in a way that only he can.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you ask softly, your eyes still on the view.

“Tired of what?”

“This.” You gesture out at the city. “The attention. The pressure. Being… Tony Stark.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you feel him press a kiss to the curve of your neck before he answers. “Honestly? Sometimes. But it’s easier now. Because I have you.”

The simplicity of his words catches you off guard, and your heart swells in your chest. You turn in his arms to face him, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Is that your way of saying I make your life easier?” you tease, your voice soft.

“Among other things,” he replies, his lips quirking into a smirk. But there’s something in his eyes—something vulnerable, raw, and unguarded—that makes your teasing falter.

“Tony…”

He steps back, his hands slipping from your waist as he reaches into his pocket. You furrow your brow, your curiosity piqued, but before you can ask what he’s doing, he lowers himself to one knee.

Your breath catches, your hand flying to your mouth as the realization hits you.

“Wait. Are you—?”

“Shh,” he says, holding up a finger, though his grin gives away his own nervous excitement. “Let me do this, okay? I’ve been working on my speech all week.”

You can’t help but laugh, your heart pounding as you watch him pull a small velvet box from his pocket. He opens it, revealing a stunning ring that catches the fading sunlight, its brilliance almost as dazzling as the man holding it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he begins, his voice warm and playful. “‘Tony Stark, on one knee? Is this an elaborate ploy to market a new Stark tech product?’ And honestly, fair question. But no, this isn’t a ploy. This is me—just me—asking you to let me be the luckiest bastard on the planet for the rest of my life.”

Tears well in your eyes as he continues, his usual cockiness tempered by a sincerity that takes your breath away.

“You’ve seen me at my worst,” he says, his voice softening. “And for some insane reason, you stayed. You saw the man under the suit, the flaws, the baggage, all of it, and you still chose me. I don’t know how or why, but you did. And I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

You laugh through your tears, shaking your head as he grins up at you.

“So,” he says, tilting his head slightly, “I figured, why waste any more time? Let’s make this official. What do you say?” He pauses, his grin widening. “And just so you know, the ring is fully customizable. You hate it, we’ll get a new one. We’ll get a dozen. Whatever you want.”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head as you kneel down in front of him, your hands cupping his face.

“You are ridiculous,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he replies, his grin softening into something more tender.

“I do,” you say, nodding as tears spill down your cheeks. “I love you, Tony Stark. And yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

His eyes light up, and before you know it, he’s pulling you into a kiss, his arms wrapping tightly around you as if he’s afraid to let go. You laugh against his lips, the sound mingling with his own as he holds you close.

When he finally pulls back, he slips the ring onto your finger with a precision that makes you laugh again.

“Look at that,” he says, holding your hand up to admire the ring. “Perfect fit. Must be fate.”

“Or really good measurements,” you tease, your smile so wide it hurts.

“Hey, don’t ruin my moment,” he says, feigning offense. But his grin gives him away, and he pulls you into another kiss, the world outside forgotten as the two of you bask in the quiet, overwhelming joy of the moment.

Later, as the city lights twinkle beyond the windows and the stars begin to dot the night sky, you find yourselves tangled together in bed, the ring still sparkling on your finger.

“Did you really practice that speech all week?” you ask, tracing patterns on his chest.

“Absolutely,” he replies without hesitation. “You think I just pull that kind of romance out of thin air?”

You laugh, your hand resting over his heart. “Well, it worked. So, congratulations, Mr. Stark. You’re officially stuck with me.”

He smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

And as you drift off to sleep in his arms, the city a distant hum beyond the glass, you can’t help but think that he’s right. This—this love, this life, this man—is the best decision you’ve ever made, too.

The decision to get married in Italy happens almost instantly, and of course, it’s Tony who suggests it. One evening, just a week after the proposal, you’re both curled up on the couch, sharing a pizza and brainstorming wedding ideas. You suggest something small and simple, maybe even local, but Tony scoffs so dramatically that you almost choke on your bite.

“Small and simple? Sweetheart, this is a Stark wedding,” he says, gesturing grandly like he’s unveiling a master plan. “We can’t just have a backyard barbecue and call it a day.”

“I wasn’t suggesting a barbecue,” you argue, laughing. “Just… something intimate. Lowkey.”

Tony narrows his eyes as if he’s trying to comprehend an entirely foreign concept. “Intimate, sure. But lowkey? Where’s the drama? The pizzazz? The flair?” He stands abruptly, grabbing his tablet off the coffee table and pulling up images of sprawling Italian villas, sparkling lakes, and rolling hills. “Italy. Lake Como. Picture it: sunset ceremony, wine that’ll make you cry tears of joy, and a backdrop so gorgeous it’ll make even me look like an afterthought.”

You lean over the tablet, your fingers brushing his as you swipe through the photos. You hate to admit it, but it does look incredible.

“Lake Como, huh?” you say, tilting your head.

“Trust me,” he replies, already beaming like he’s won. “You’ll love it.”

And just like that, you’re planning a destination wedding.

The next few months are a whirlwind of activity, full of laughter, occasional bickering, and more spreadsheets than you ever thought possible. Tony hires an elite team of wedding planners, but true to form, he insists on being involved in every detail, much to their dismay.

One morning, as you’re going over the guest list, Tony lounges across the couch, sipping an espresso and scrolling through his tablet.

“Okay, so I’ve narrowed down the guest list to 150 people,” you say, looking up from your notebook.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Only 150? What about the Stark Industries board? Or the press?”

You groan, throwing a pillow at him. “Tony, this isn’t a corporate launch party. It’s our wedding. We’re not inviting the press.”

He dodges the pillow with a laugh, setting down his tablet to pull you into his lap. “Fine, fine. No press.”

Moments like this—when it’s just the two of you, teasing and laughing—make the chaos of planning worthwhile.

The dress becomes a point of contention about halfway through the process.

Tony insists on knowing every single detail of the wedding, from the floral arrangements (white roses with touches of blush pink) to the menu (a five-course Italian feast that he swears will ruin you for all other food). But when it comes to your wedding dress, you refuse to budge.

“You’re not seeing it until I walk down the aisle,” you say firmly one afternoon as you finalize plans for your first fitting.

Tony stares at you like you’ve just announced you’re canceling the wedding altogether. “Wait, what? Why not? I’m paying for it!”

“And it’s going to be a surprise,” you say sweetly, patting his cheek.

“Surprises are overrated,” he grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Not this one,” you reply, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Despite his protests, you stick to your guns, and Tony spends the next few months sulking every time the dress is mentioned. You catch him trying to bribe your best friend for details once (“Come on, just tell me if it’s got sparkles”), but she doesn’t crack, much to your delight.

Planning a wedding with Tony Stark also means dealing with the occasional unexpected distraction.

Like the time he accidentally blew up part of his workshop while testing a new prototype. You were on a video call with the wedding planner, discussing seating arrangements, when the explosion rattled the entire tower.

“Tony!” you shouted, rushing down to the lab.

When you got there, he was covered in soot, grinning sheepishly as Dum-E sprayed him with a fire extinguisher.

“Don’t worry,” he said, coughing. “It’s under control. Mostly.”

“You’re going to be late to the cake tasting,” you scolded, dragging him upstairs.

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You love me even when I’m a disaster.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, though you couldn’t hide your smile.

Before you know it, the big day arrives.

The villa on Lake Como is even more stunning than you imagined. The ceremony is set up on a sprawling terrace overlooking the water, with rows of chairs draped in white fabric and flowers adorning every surface. The air is warm and fragrant, the sound of the lake gently lapping against the shore creating a serene backdrop.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of gold and lavender, you stand in a quiet room with your best friend, your dress perfectly fitted, your heart pounding.

“You ready?” she asks, smiling as she adjusts your veil.

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Meanwhile, Tony waits at the altar, looking dashing in his custom tuxedo. But for all his usual confidence, there’s a nervous energy about him as he glances toward the entrance. Rhodey nudges him, grinning.

“Relax,” Rhodey says. “She’s not going to stand you up.”

“Shut up,” Tony mutters, though he can’t help but smile.

When the music starts, and the doors open, everything else fades.

You step into view, and for a moment, Tony forgets how to breathe. You’re radiant, your dress a perfect blend of elegance and simplicity, and the look in your eyes as you meet his gaze is enough to make his knees weak.

As you walk down the aisle, your heart swells with love and anticipation. When you reach Tony, he takes your hands, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“You’re stunning,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply, smiling through your tears.

The ceremony is beautiful, filled with laughter and heartfelt vows that make everyone in attendance misty-eyed. Tony’s vow, in true Stark fashion, is equal parts romantic and funny.

“I never thought I’d find someone who could put up with my nonsense,” he says, his voice warm. “But then you came along and not only put up with it, but somehow made me better. You’re my partner, my equal, and the love of my life. And I promise to spend the rest of my days loving you—flaws, genius, and all.”

Your vows are just as heartfelt, and by the time you exchange rings, there’s not a dry eye in the house.

The reception is a blur of joy and celebration. Guests dance under strings of twinkling lights, the food is every bit as incredible as Tony promised, and the speeches are both hilarious and touching.

But for you and Tony, the highlight of the night is the quiet moment you steal away from the crowd. You find yourselves on a balcony overlooking the lake, the stars reflected in the water below.

Tony wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“So,” he says softly, his voice filled with wonder. “We did it.”

“We did,” you reply, leaning back against him.

He turns you around, his hands framing your face as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world. “Mrs. Stark,” he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

You smile, your hands resting on his chest. “I like the sound of that.”

He kisses you then, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that feels like a promise. And as the stars shine above and the world falls away, you know that this—this love, this life, this man—is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.

The first days of being married feel like a dream you never want to wake up from. The wedding was magical, but the aftermath—the quiet moments where it’s just the two of you—is even better. You wake up the morning after the wedding in Tony’s arms, sunlight spilling through the villa’s curtains. His hair is an endearing mess, his face softened by sleep. When he finally stirs, the first thing he does is pull you closer, murmuring a sleepy “Good morning, Mrs. Stark.” The words make your heart skip a beat every time he says them, and he takes full advantage of that, slipping the phrase into every conversation for the next several days.

“Mrs. Stark, do you want pancakes or waffles?” “Mrs. Stark, are you aware of how incredible you look in my shirt?” “Mrs. Stark, could you pass me that screwdriver? Thanks, you’re the best wife ever.”

You let him have his fun because, truthfully, you love it.

The honeymoon in Italy stretches on for a few more days, spent exploring charming lakeside towns, indulging in decadent food, and stealing kisses in picturesque corners like a couple from a movie. Tony insists on spoiling you at every turn, booking private tours and surprise candlelit dinners. He claims it’s to celebrate “locking down the deal of a lifetime,” but you know it’s because he can’t resist going all out when it comes to you.

When you finally return to New York, reality hits in the form of a media frenzy. The press had already been obsessed with your relationship before, but your wedding—Tony Stark marrying the woman who tamed him—has become the headline of the year. Paparazzi swarm the tower, headlines range from heartfelt to ridiculous (“Genius Billionaire Finally Meets His Match” and “Mrs. Stark: Who Is She, and How Did She Do It?”), and fans on social media dissect every detail of the wedding pictures that somehow made their way online.

Tony, of course, takes it all in stride, basking in the attention like it’s his natural habitat. He gives you a cheeky grin one morning as he reads an article aloud, his feet propped up on the kitchen counter. “‘Tony Stark’s wedding sets new standard for billionaire romance.’ Sounds about right, don’t you think, Mrs. Stark?”

You roll your eyes, stealing his coffee cup and taking a sip. “Are you going to call me that forever?”

“Forever,” he replies, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Get used to it.”

Despite the chaos outside, life inside the tower settles into a new rhythm. You fall into a comfortable routine with Tony, your days filled with work, laughter, and the kind of love that feels almost too good to be true. The other Avengers quickly adapt to your new title as well, with Clint jokingly saluting you as “the boss’s boss” and Natasha subtly slipping “Mrs. Stark” into conversation whenever she can just to see you smile.

The real surprise comes a few months later. You’re in the middle of a particularly lazy afternoon, curled up on the couch with a book while Tony tinkers with something in the lab, when you start to notice a pattern. You’ve been unusually tired lately, your emotions swinging wildly between laughter and tears, and then there’s the morning sickness that hit you out of nowhere. At first, you chalked it up to stress or maybe a lingering flu, but now… you have a feeling there’s something more.

The thought sends a jolt of excitement and nervousness through you, and the next morning, you quietly sneak out to buy a test. When the results come back positive, you sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the little plastic stick in disbelief.

You’re pregnant.

The realization hits you like a tidal wave. You and Tony are going to have a baby. The thought fills you with so much joy you can hardly contain it, but it’s mixed with a flutter of nerves. How do you tell the man who built a suit of armor to protect himself that he’s about to become a dad?

That evening, after mulling over a dozen ideas, you settle on something simple but quintessentially Stark. You order a tiny baby onesie online and have it customized with the words, Iron Baby No. 1 on the way, ETA nine months. When it arrives a few days later, you hide it in a gift box and wait for the perfect moment.

The moment comes one evening when Tony’s in the kitchen, making what he calls his “famous” grilled cheese. He’s in a relaxed mood, humming along to the playlist he’s put on, and you decide this is it.

“Hey,” you say casually, walking over with the box behind your back.

He glances up from the stove, his face lighting up when he sees you. “Hey, gorgeous. What’s up?”

“I got you a present,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Tony raises an eyebrow, setting down the spatula. “A present? For me? What’s the occasion?”

“Just open it,” you say, handing him the box.

He grins, clearly intrigued, and tears into the wrapping paper like a kid on Christmas morning. When he lifts the lid and sees the tiny onesie, his expression shifts from confusion to realization, his eyes widening as he reads the words.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at the onesie like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. Then he looks up at you, his eyes shimmering with tears.

“Are you serious?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, tears welling in your own eyes. “I’m serious. We’re having a baby.”

Tony sets the box down carefully on the counter before pulling you into his arms. His embrace is so tight it nearly takes your breath away, but you don’t mind. You can feel him trembling slightly as he buries his face in your neck, his emotions pouring out in a way that’s so rare for him.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he says, his voice cracking. “Holy shit. I’m going to be a dad.”

“You are,” you whisper, your hands running soothingly over his back.

When he finally pulls back, his face is wet with tears, but his smile is brighter than you’ve ever seen it. He cups your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he says, his voice full of awe. “I love you so much. And I love…” He places a hand gently on your stomach, his touch reverent. “I love this little one already.”

You laugh softly, brushing a tear from his cheek. “I had a feeling you’d be happy.”

“Happy? Are you kidding?” He laughs, though his voice is still thick with emotion. “This is… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. To us.”

Over the next few weeks, Tony shifts into full-on protective mode. He insists on accompanying you to every doctor’s appointment, interrogates the OB-GYN like they’re a candidate for a top-secret Stark Industries position, and starts researching the best baby gear money can buy. You come home one day to find him in the nursery he’s set up, designing what he calls “baby-safe tech” to keep the little one entertained and protected.

“Tony,” you say, laughing as you lean against the doorframe. “You do realize we’re not raising a baby genius in a lab, right?”

“Speak for yourself,” he replies, not looking up from his holographic blueprint. “This kid’s going to be the smartest, safest, most spoiled little Stark in history.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with love. Seeing him like this—so invested, so excited—makes you fall for him all over again.

As the weeks turn into months, the excitement grows, both inside the tower and out. The press catches wind of the pregnancy, and the news spreads like wildfire. Headlines range from adoring to absurd, but you and Tony take it all in stride, focusing on the joy of building your family together.

One night, as you’re lying in bed, Tony rests his hand on your growing bump, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.

“You know,” he says softly, his voice laced with wonder, “I used to think I’d never have this. A family. Someone to love me for who I am, not what I can give them.”

You reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his stubble. “And now?”

“Now I know I was wrong,” he replies, leaning down to kiss you.

The idea for the gender reveal is Tony’s, though it surprises you because he’s usually one for grand gestures. But as he gently suggests the idea of keeping it just the two of you, something in his voice—soft, hopeful—makes your heart melt.

“You’re sure?” you ask one evening, resting your hands on your growing belly as you sit on the couch. “No big party? No fireworks shaped like an Iron Man suit?”

Tony grins, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Sweetheart, I’ve done the fireworks. I’ve done the parties. But this… this is different. This is us.” He pauses, glancing at your belly with a tenderness that still catches you off guard. “I want it to be about you and me and the peanut.”

“Peanut?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, peanut for now. Until they grow into something more Stark-like. Maybe ‘genius’ or ‘CEO.’”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays how much you love him. “Fine. Let’s do something just for us.”

A week later, you’re in the kitchen with Tony, standing before a modest but beautiful cake. The frosting is plain white, with delicate swirls along the edges. Inside, the baker promised, is either blue or pink to reveal the baby’s gender.

Tony’s practically buzzing with excitement as he hands you the knife. “You do the honors, Mrs. Stark.”

You take the knife, your hand trembling slightly, but before you can cut, he places his hand over yours.

“Wait,” he says, his voice softer now. He leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. “No matter what, this kid’s going to have the best parents in the world. Okay?”

Tears sting your eyes, and you nod, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

Together, you press the knife into the cake and lift the first slice, your breath catching as the color is revealed.

“It’s a girl,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Tony stares at the pink cake, his mouth slightly open. Then his face breaks into the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen. “A girl,” he repeats, as if testing the words. He looks at you, his eyes shining. “We’re having a little Starkette.”

You laugh through your tears, setting the knife down to wrap your arms around him. He holds you tightly, his hand gently cradling the back of your head.

“I hope she’s just like you,” he murmurs against your hair.

“And I hope she’s just like you,” you reply, pulling back to meet his gaze.

“God, I hope not,” he jokes, though his voice is thick with emotion. “The world can barely handle one of me.”

In the weeks that follow, Tony becomes even more attached to your growing belly. Every evening, without fail, he rests his head against it and talks to the baby.

“Hey, Starkette,” he says one night as you lie in bed, his hand gently rubbing circles on your belly. “It’s me, your dad. I just want you to know that you’re already smarter than half the people I’ve ever worked with. And that’s saying something.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “Tony, she’s not even born yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your belly. “She’s already a Stark. Genius is in her DNA.”

Sometimes, he sings to her—soft, off-key renditions of songs that make you laugh until your sides hurt. Other times, he reads aloud from baby books, though he always adds his own commentary.

“Oh, look at this,” he says one evening, flipping through a parenting book. “‘Babies cry to communicate their needs.’ Really? That’s groundbreaking information. Did we pay for this book?”

Despite his jokes, you can see how deeply he’s invested in this new chapter of your lives. The sight of him doting on you and the baby makes you fall in love with him all over again.

Choosing a name becomes an adventure in itself.

Tony suggests everything from obscure historical figures to names of constellations. At one point, he even suggests “Arc,” claiming it’s a nod to his arc reactor and “totally cool.”

“Tony,” you say, barely suppressing your laughter. “We are not naming our daughter after a piece of tech.”

“Fine,” he replies, pretending to sulk. “But don’t come crying to me when she asks why she doesn’t have a cool name.”

After weeks of debate, you finally settle on a name that feels perfect: Morgan.

“Why Morgan?” Tony asks one evening as you lie together on the couch.

You shrug, smiling softly. “It’s strong but sweet. And it feels… right.”

Tony repeats the name under his breath, testing it out. Then he smiles, nodding. “Morgan Stark. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

The day Morgan arrives starts like any other. You wake up to the sound of Tony tinkering in the lab, but by mid-morning, the first contractions hit.

“Tony!” you shout from the living room, clutching the back of the couch.

He appears within seconds, his eyes wide. “What? What is it? Is the tower on fire again?”

You glare at him, though the pain is already making you wince. “No, you idiot. The baby’s coming.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his face going pale. Then he snaps into action, grabbing your hospital bag and practically carrying you to the car.

The ride to the hospital is a blur of Tony panicking and you trying not to laugh between contractions.

“Do we have everything?” he asks, his voice frantic. “The bag? The paperwork? Did we forget anything? Oh God, what if we—”

“Tony,” you interrupt, reaching for his hand. “It’s fine. I promise. Just focus on driving.”

When you arrive at the hospital, Tony is a mix of nerves and excitement. He holds your hand through every contraction, whispering words of encouragement and pressing kisses to your forehead.

“You’re amazing,” he says as you breathe through the pain. “You’ve got this. You’re a freaking superhero.”

The delivery is intense, and at one point, you think you might actually break Tony’s hand with how tightly you’re gripping it. But he doesn’t complain, just keeps murmuring reassurances and brushing your hair back from your face.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the first cry.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor announces, holding up your squirming, pink-faced baby.

Tears stream down your face as they place her on your chest. Tony stares in awe, his eyes glassy as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, your heart overflowing as you gaze down at your daughter. “Hi, Morgan,” you murmur, your voice trembling.

In the hours that follow, Tony can hardly take his eyes off Morgan. He holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he cradles her tiny form.

“She’s so small,” he marvels, staring down at her. “How can something so tiny have such a big impact?”

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “That’s what love does.”

Tony looks at you then, his eyes full of gratitude and adoration. “Thank you,” he says softly. “For her. For us.”

Over the next few days, the tower becomes a hub of celebration. The Avengers take turns visiting, each one fawning over Morgan in their own way. Even Clint, who jokes about having enough kids of his own, is smitten.

But at the end of the day, it’s the quiet moments with just the three of you that mean the most.

One evening, as you sit in the nursery, watching Tony rock Morgan to sleep, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace.

“Welcome to the world, Morgan Stark,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her tiny forehead.

The first days at the hospital are a whirlwind of exhaustion, joy, and learning curves that neither you nor Tony could have anticipated. You’re still lying in the hospital bed, Morgan nestled in your arms, when the nurse comes in with a soft smile and an armful of pamphlets. She explains everything from feeding to burping, swaddling to diaper changing. You listen attentively, but Tony’s focus is entirely on Morgan. His hands are gentle but a little awkward as he cradles her tiny head, his face full of wonder.

When the nurse shows him how to hold Morgan correctly, Tony nods along seriously, but the second she leaves, he looks at you with mock indignation. “I think she thought I didn’t know how to hold a baby,” he says, feigning offense.

You laugh softly, your body still sore but your heart full. “Do you?”

“I’m a genius, remember?” he says, lifting Morgan a little higher, though he holds her like she’s made of glass. “But… okay, I might have needed a little help.”

It becomes clear quickly that while Tony can invent world-changing technology, mastering baby care is a completely different challenge. He spends fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to swaddle Morgan properly, only for her to immediately kick her legs free. “It’s a conspiracy,” he mutters, trying again as you laugh from the bed. “I’m telling you, she’s already smarter than me.”

Feeding Morgan proves to be a team effort. The nurses show you how to breastfeed while Tony hovers nearby, asking a million questions that make the staff chuckle. “Is she getting enough? How do we know? What if she’s still hungry?”

“Tony,” you say gently, placing a hand on his arm. “She’s fine. Trust me.”

He sighs but nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Later, when it’s time to bottle feed, Tony insists on being the one to do it. He sits in the chair beside your bed, Morgan nestled in his arms, and looks up at you with a proud grin. “I think she likes me,” he says as she sucks greedily on the bottle.

“She’s a Stark,” you reply with a smile. “Of course, she likes you.”

The nurses come in periodically to check on you and the baby, and each time, they offer more advice. By the end of your stay, your head is swimming with information, but Tony’s enthusiasm makes it easier. He takes notes—actual notes—and even sketches out diagrams for things like diaper changes.

“Who knew being a parent involved so much engineering?” he jokes, but there’s a genuine determination in his eyes.

Finally, after a few days, you’re cleared to go home. The excitement of leaving the hospital is quickly tempered by the reality of the paparazzi camped outside. News of Morgan’s birth had leaked almost immediately, and now the world is desperate for the first glimpse of Tony Stark’s baby girl.

You sit in the hospital room, holding Morgan close, while Tony stands by the window, peering through the blinds. “It’s like a circus out there,” he mutters, turning to look at you. “They’re not getting a single shot of her face. Not until we decide.”

You nod, your protective instincts flaring. “How do we get past them?”

Tony smirks, his confidence returning. “I’ve got a plan.”

The plan involves Happy pulling up to the hospital’s front entrance in a decoy car while you, Tony, and Morgan slip out through a back exit. Wrapped in a soft pink blanket and nestled securely in your arms, Morgan is hidden from view as you rush to an unmarked SUV waiting in the alley. Tony shields you both, his arm around your shoulders, and Happy drives like a man on a mission once you’re inside.

By the time you arrive at the tower, the paparazzi are still circling the hospital, none the wiser. Tony grins as he steps out of the car, glancing at you. “Mission accomplished, Mrs. Stark.”

Inside the tower, the chaos of the outside world melts away. The nursery is ready, every detail meticulously planned by Tony. The walls are painted a soft, calming gray, accented with touches of pink and gold. A custom crib sits in the corner, along with shelves stocked with books and toys.

You place Morgan in her crib for the first time, your heart swelling as you watch her tiny chest rise and fall. Tony stands beside you, his hand resting on your lower back.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice full of awe.

The first night at home is… an adventure. Morgan wakes up every two hours, her cries piercing through the quiet of the penthouse. You take turns getting up with her, though Tony insists on doing most of the work.

“You just gave birth,” he says, gently taking Morgan from your arms when she cries again at three in the morning. “I’ve got this. You sleep.”

You don’t argue, though you can’t resist peeking into the nursery an hour later. You find Tony sitting in the rocking chair, Morgan cradled against his chest as he hums softly. It’s a sight that makes your heart ache with love.

In the days that follow, you and Tony fall into a rhythm. It’s far from perfect—there are diaper disasters, sleepless nights, and moments where you both feel completely overwhelmed—but there’s also so much joy.

One afternoon, you walk into the nursery to find Tony lying on the floor beside Morgan’s playmat, his finger grasped tightly in her tiny hand. He looks up at you with a goofy grin. “She’s got a strong grip,” he says. “She’s going to be an inventor. Or maybe a pilot.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Or maybe she’ll be an artist. Or a writer.”

“Whatever she wants,” Tony agrees, leaning over to kiss your temple.

Mealtimes become a highlight of your days. Tony insists on taking charge of the bottle feeds, claiming it’s “bonding time” with his daughter. He talks to her as she eats, telling her stories about his adventures as Iron Man and the time he built a robot that accidentally tried to take over the world.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his tone light. “We’ll teach you to build better robots.”

When Morgan isn’t eating or sleeping, she’s the center of attention. Tony spends hours playing with her, making silly faces and inventing little gadgets to keep her entertained. One evening, he proudly unveils a tiny Stark-branded mobile that lights up and plays lullabies.

“Look at that,” he says as he hangs it over her crib. “Custom-made for the best baby in the world.”

You smile, leaning against him as you watch Morgan’s eyes widen at the softly glowing lights. “You’re going to spoil her rotten.”

“Absolutely,” he replies without hesitation, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Despite the exhaustion, these first days are some of the happiest of your life. There’s a quiet magic in the way your little family is coming together, in the small moments that remind you of how much love surrounds you.

One night, as you sit on the couch with Morgan asleep in your arms, Tony comes over and sits beside you. He leans down to kiss Morgan’s forehead, then rests his head against your shoulder.

“We did good,” he murmurs, his voice soft.

You smile, your heart full. “Yeah, we did.”

And as you sit there, with your daughter in your arms and your husband by your side, you know that this is just the beginning of a beautiful journey.

Morgan’s first year is a series of milestones that come at you faster than you’re ready for. One morning, as you’re feeding her in the kitchen, her tiny fingers gripping the edge of the high chair, you notice something new. She’s gnawing relentlessly on one of her teething rings, a tiny scowl of determination on her face.

“Tony,” you call over your shoulder. He’s tinkering with some gadget at the counter, but he looks up immediately.

“What’s up?”

You motion toward Morgan, who has abandoned her teething ring and is now attempting to bite the tray of her high chair. “I think we’re entering teething territory.”

Tony sets down his tools and comes over, crouching to her eye level. “What’s going on, little Starkette? You trying to eat your way to freedom?”

Morgan responds with a high-pitched squeal that makes both of you laugh.

Teething quickly becomes a challenging phase, and Morgan is not shy about letting the world know how much she dislikes it. She chews on everything—her toys, your fingers, Tony’s hoodie strings. One night, as you’re watching a movie together, she grabs the edge of Tony’s expensive leather belt and shoves it into her mouth.

“Hey, hey!” Tony says, gently pulling it away. “That’s Italian leather, kiddo!”

You laugh, handing her a proper teething toy. “Welcome to parenthood. Nothing is safe.”

Tony takes the challenge of teething head-on, dedicating hours to researching remedies. He orders every teething toy imaginable and even develops a custom one that vibrates slightly to soothe her gums. When he proudly presents it to you, you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Only our child would have a high-tech teething toy,” you tease.

“Hey,” Tony says, holding up a hand. “If she’s going to chew on something, it might as well be Stark-approved.”

Despite the sleepless nights and the constant need for gum-soothing gel, there are sweet moments too. Like the way Morgan clings to you when she’s particularly cranky, her tiny hands fisting your shirt as she nuzzles into your chest. Or the way Tony sings softly to her as he rocks her in his arms, his voice low and soothing even when he’s dead tired.

One morning, as you’re sitting on the living room floor with Morgan in your lap, she surprises you by letting out a string of sounds that almost—almost—sound like words.

“Ba-ba-da-da,” she babbles, her little fists waving excitedly.

You gasp, looking over at Tony, who’s lounging on the couch with a cup of coffee. “Did you hear that?”

Tony grins, setting his mug down. “Of course I did. That’s pure Stark genius right there.”

“She’s just babbling,” you say, though your heart swells with pride.

“Don’t sell her short,” Tony replies, scooping her up and lifting her high in the air. Morgan squeals with delight, her chubby arms reaching for him. “She’s probably already working out her first patent.”

As the weeks pass, Morgan’s babbling becomes more frequent and animated. She talks to her toys, to you, to Tony, and even to Dum-E, who dutifully beeps in response. One day, as Tony is feeding her, she looks up at him with her big brown eyes and says something that sounds suspiciously like “Dada.”

Tony freezes, the spoon halfway to her mouth. “Did you just… did you just call me Dada?”

You’re watching from the doorway, and you can’t help but laugh. “I think she did.”

Tony’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. He sets the spoon down and pulls Morgan into his arms, holding her close. “That’s right, baby girl,” he says, his voice full of emotion. “I’m Dada.”

Not long after, Morgan starts to show signs that she’s ready to crawl. She spends hours on her belly, wiggling and rocking back and forth as she tries to figure it out. Tony, ever the innovator, decides to “help” her by building a tiny baby-sized robot that moves just out of her reach, encouraging her to chase it.

“Tony,” you say, crossing your arms as you watch him test it in the living room. “You can’t engineer her milestones.”

“I’m not engineering,” he insists, though his grin betrays him. “I’m motivating.”

Morgan seems to agree because within a few days, she’s crawling across the floor with surprising speed, determined to catch the little robot. You cheer her on, clapping and laughing as she finally grabs it and lets out a triumphant giggle.

From that point on, nothing in the penthouse is safe. Morgan is everywhere, pulling herself up on furniture, opening cabinets, and exploring every nook and cranny she can reach. Tony installs baby-proofing measures at an alarming rate, though he still insists on letting her “experiment” within reason.

“She’s curious,” he says one evening as Morgan pulls herself up on the edge of the coffee table. “That’s a good thing.”

“It is,” you agree, though you keep a close eye on her as she wobbles precariously.

The day Morgan takes her first steps is one you’ll never forget. She’s standing near the couch, holding onto the edge for support, when suddenly she lets go. You and Tony are sitting on the floor, a few feet away, watching her with wide eyes.

“Come on, Morgan,” Tony coaxes, holding out his hands. “You can do it.”

She wobbles, her little legs unsteady, but then she takes one step. And then another.

“Tony,” you whisper, your hands flying to your mouth.

“I see it,” he says, his voice filled with awe.

Morgan takes three more steps before tumbling into Tony’s arms, giggling as he scoops her up and spins her around.

“You did it!” he exclaims, pressing kisses all over her face. “That’s my girl!”

You’re crying by the time he looks at you, and he grins, holding Morgan out toward you. “Your turn, Mom.”

You pull her into your arms, kissing her forehead and whispering how proud you are. It’s a moment that feels almost too perfect to be real.

As Morgan grows, her vocabulary starts to expand. Her first word, unsurprisingly, is “Dada,” which Tony proudly declares is the best thing he’s ever heard. But her second word, “Mama,” quickly follows, and you feel an overwhelming surge of love when she says it for the first time.

She picks up other words too—“up,” “no,” and “cookie” become favorites—but her babbling remains a constant source of entertainment. She has long, animated “conversations” with you and Tony, complete with hand gestures and facial expressions.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” you tease Tony one evening as Morgan waves her arms dramatically, babbling at the top of her lungs.

“She’s got your sass,” he counters, smirking.

Through it all, the two of you marvel at how quickly she’s growing and changing. Every milestone feels like a little miracle, a reminder of just how much love and joy she’s brought into your lives.

And as you watch her toddle across the living room one evening, her tiny feet padding against the floor, you realize that this is what happiness truly looks like. A life full of love, laughter, and the sweetest little girl in the world.

Life with toddler Morgan is a delightful mix of chaos, laughter, and the kind of exhaustion you wouldn’t trade for anything. She’s a whirlwind of energy, always exploring, always asking questions—or rather, yelling, “Why?” in her tiny voice as she points to every object she can find. You and Tony quickly learn that raising a toddler is a whole new kind of challenge, but also, it’s endlessly rewarding.

From the moment Morgan wakes up in the morning, she’s a ball of energy. She’s in the phase where she wants to do everything “by herself,” which means you often find her trying to pull on her socks upside-down or insisting on pouring her own juice, resulting in small floods on the kitchen counter.

“Did we adopt a tiny Tony Stark?” you ask one morning, watching her stubbornly refuse your help as she attempts to zip up her jacket.

“Excuse me,” Tony replies, sipping his coffee while lounging against the counter. “She’s a perfect blend of your determination and my brilliance.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, arching an eyebrow as Morgan gives up on the zipper and stomps her foot in frustration. “Your brilliance is why we now have a child who insists on building towers out of every item in the living room, including the remote and your sunglasses.”

Tony grins, crouching beside Morgan to help her with the zipper. “Don’t crush her creativity, babe.”

The penthouse is now toddler-proofed to a degree that feels both excessive and still somehow inadequate. Every corner has been padded, every sharp object locked away. Still, Morgan manages to find ways to keep you both on your toes. She’s discovered the joy of climbing, which means nothing is out of reach—not even the countertop.

One afternoon, as you’re folding laundry, you hear a crash from the kitchen, followed by Tony’s panicked voice.

“Morgan! No! You can’t—oh, my God, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You rush in to find Morgan perched precariously on a stool, reaching for the cookie jar on the highest shelf. Tony is holding the stool steady, looking both impressed and horrified.

“She’s got determination,” he says, glancing at you with a sheepish grin.

“She’s going to give me a heart attack,” you reply, scooping her up and giving her a stern look. “No more climbing, little miss.”

Morgan giggles, clearly unbothered by the reprimand. “Cookies!” she declares, pointing at the jar.

“She’s definitely your kid,” Tony mutters, earning a playful swat on the arm from you.

Despite the chaos, you and Tony try your best to find moments of intimacy. It’s not always easy with a toddler running around, but you both know how important it is to keep your connection strong.

Late at night, after Morgan has gone to bed, you often find yourselves curled up on the couch together, sharing a bottle of wine and talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes, Tony pulls you into his lap and kisses you like it’s the first time all over again, his hands sliding over your back as if he can’t get enough of you.

One night, as you’re lying in bed together, Tony turns to you with that mischievous glint in his eye.

“You know,” he says, trailing his fingers along your arm, “we make pretty amazing kids.”

You smile, already knowing where this is going. “Oh, do we?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “Morgan’s a genius in the making. Imagine if we had another one.”

You laugh softly, turning to face him. “Are you suggesting we try for baby number two?”

“Maybe,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. “I mean, why stop at one when we’re so good at this?”

His hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer, and you roll your eyes even as your heart flutters. “You just want an excuse to keep me barefoot and pregnant, don’t you?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, feigning offense. “I want an excuse to have more of you.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and before you know it, he’s kissing you deeply, his hands roaming your body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

“Tony,” you murmur against his lips, but he silences you with another kiss, his intentions clear.

Needless to say, the idea of a second baby becomes a topic of serious discussion—and action.

Meanwhile, Morgan keeps you both busy during the day. She’s entered the “why” phase with a vengeance, questioning everything from why the sky is blue to why Tony’s suit can fly. Tony, ever the teacher, takes her questions as opportunities to explain science in the simplest terms possible.

“Because, kiddo,” he says one afternoon, crouching beside her as she pokes at one of his gauntlets, “when air moves faster, pressure drops, and that helps create lift. That’s how planes—and my suit—stay in the air.”

Morgan looks at him with wide eyes, nodding solemnly before asking, “Why?”

You laugh from the couch, watching Tony try to answer her endless stream of questions. “You’re in for it now,” you tease.

“Don’t worry,” he replies, winking at you. “She’s a quick learner, just like her mom.”

One of your favorite moments comes when Morgan starts to show an interest in music. She’s discovered Tony’s collection of old records and insists on playing them every evening. Watching her dance around the living room, her little feet stomping to the beat, fills your heart with a joy you didn’t know was possible.

“She’s got moves,” Tony says one night, pulling you into his arms as Morgan twirls around in her pajamas.

“She gets that from me,” you reply, grinning.

Tony laughs, spinning you around as the music plays. “Sure she does.”

Despite the busyness of raising a toddler, you and Tony make time for yourselves as a couple. You sneak away for date nights when Happy or Pepper can babysit, though you always end up talking about Morgan within the first ten minutes.

One evening, after putting Morgan to bed, Tony surprises you with a romantic setup on the balcony—candles, champagne, the works.

“What’s the occasion?” you ask, leaning against him as you gaze out at the city lights.

“Do I need an occasion to spoil my wife?” he replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Moments like these remind you of how lucky you are to have him—not just as a partner, but as the most incredible father to your daughter.

As the weeks go by, you find yourself wondering if maybe, just maybe, another little Stark would be the perfect addition to your family. And judging by the way Tony looks at you every time Morgan does something adorable, he’s thinking the same thing.

It’s one of those mornings where the world feels calm, rare moments of peace in the Stark household. The sun is streaming through the windows, and Morgan is sitting at the kitchen table, coloring in her book with her usual level of intensity. Tony is at the counter, making what he swears is “the best pancakes you’ve ever had,” wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt that Morgan insisted he wear because it matches hers—bright pink with a cartoon unicorn on it.

You’re leaning against the counter, holding a mug of tea, trying to figure out the best way to tell Tony the news that’s been buzzing inside you for the past week. You’ve been keeping the pregnancy test hidden in your nightstand, waiting for the right moment to share it. And now, as you watch Tony flip pancakes with Morgan’s enthusiastic commentary in the background, you know the moment is here.

“Hey, Tony?” you say, setting your mug down and crossing the kitchen.

“Yeah, babe?” he answers, not looking up from the griddle.

You slide your arms around his waist from behind, resting your cheek against his back. “I need to tell you something.”

“Hmm?” he hums, turning his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder.

You pause for a moment, your heart pounding with both excitement and nerves. Then, you step back and pull the small onesie you’ve been hiding out from your pocket. It’s white, with the words “Iron Baby No. 2 ETA: 9 Months” printed on it in bold letters.

Tony turns fully to look at you, his brow furrowed. His eyes fall on the onesie, and it takes a second for the meaning to click. When it does, his jaw drops.

“Wait. Are you—?!”

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. “We’re having another baby.”

Tony stares at you, completely still for a beat, before his face lights up with that signature Stark grin. He lets out a laugh of pure joy and scoops you into his arms, spinning you around right there in the middle of the kitchen.

“Another Stark genius on the way!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with pride and excitement. “Oh my God, babe, this is—wow. Just wow.”

Morgan, still at the table, looks up from her coloring book, her little face scrunching in confusion. “Daddy, why you spinning Mommy?”

Tony sets you down gently, his hands still on your waist, and crouches down to Morgan’s level. “Well, peanut, we’ve got some big news to share with you.”

Morgan blinks, her crayon poised midair. “Big news?”

You kneel beside Tony, taking her tiny hand in yours. “You’re going to be a big sister, sweetheart. Mommy’s going to have a baby.”

Morgan’s eyes go wide, and she looks between the two of you. “A baby?!” she squeals, her face lighting up with excitement.

“That’s right,” Tony says, pulling her onto his lap. “There’s a baby growing in Mommy’s tummy right now.”

Morgan stares at your stomach like she’s expecting to see the baby immediately. “Right now?” she asks, her little hands gently pressing against your belly.

“Right now,” you confirm, smiling at her curiosity.

Her expression shifts into something thoughtful, and then she asks, “Can I share my toys with the baby?”

Your heart melts, and Tony lets out a laugh, hugging her tightly. “That’s a great idea, peanut. You’re going to be the best big sister ever.”

Over the next few weeks, Morgan becomes completely obsessed with the idea of the baby. She asks a million questions—“How does the baby get in there?” (to which Tony coughs and quickly changes the subject), “When will the baby come out?” and, most frequently, “Is the baby going to like me?”

Tony takes every opportunity to reassure her. “Of course the baby’s going to love you,” he tells her one evening as they’re building a block tower together. “You’re going to be their favorite person.”

When you find out the baby is a boy, Morgan’s excitement reaches new heights. “A baby brother!” she exclaims, jumping up and down. “I’m going to teach him how to color and how to play with Dum-E and how to eat pancakes!”

Tony grins, pulling her into a hug. “That’s my girl. He’s going to be one lucky little guy.”

As the months pass, the preparations for the baby kick into high gear. Tony insists on designing the nursery himself, turning one of the spare rooms in the penthouse into a space that’s both practical and beautiful. Morgan helps as much as she can, picking out toys and decorations and offering unsolicited advice.

“I think the baby would like stars on the ceiling,” she says one afternoon as Tony is painting the walls.

“Stars it is,” Tony replies, pulling up a design on his tablet and letting her help choose the layout.

You spend hours together as a family, getting everything ready. Morgan loves to help fold tiny clothes and stack diapers, even if her “help” usually results in more work for you later.

When the day of the birth finally arrives, it happens in the middle of the night. You wake up to contractions and gently nudge Tony awake.

“Tony,” you whisper. “It’s time.”

His eyes snap open, and he immediately jumps into action. “Time? Time for—oh my God, it’s time!” He stumbles out of bed, pulling on clothes and grabbing the hospital bag you packed weeks ago.

Morgan wakes up in the commotion, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “What’s happening?”

“You’re about to meet your baby brother,” you tell her, smoothing her hair.

Tony calls Pepper, who comes to stay with Morgan while you head to the hospital. As you’re leaving, Morgan gives you a big hug and whispers, “Tell the baby I love him, okay?”

Labor is intense but thankfully not too long, and soon enough, baby Jake Stark makes his grand entrance into the world. He’s a perfect mix of you and Tony, with a head of dark hair and big, curious eyes that already seem to be taking everything in.

When Tony holds him for the first time, he’s completely overcome. Tears fill his eyes as he stares down at the tiny baby in his arms. “Hey there, little guy,” he says softly. “I’m your dad. And you’ve got the coolest mom and the best big sister waiting to meet you.”

When you return home the next day, Morgan is practically bouncing with excitement. The moment she sees Jake, her face lights up, and she immediately runs over to you.

“Can I hold him?” she asks, her voice filled with awe.

You settle on the couch with her, placing Jake carefully in her lap. Her small hands gently cradle him, and she stares at him with wide eyes.

“Hi, baby brother,” she whispers. “I’m your big sister Morgan.”

Tony sits beside her, his arm around her shoulders, watching the two of them with a smile that’s equal parts pride and pure love.

Jake lets out a little coo, and Morgan gasps. “He likes me!”

“Of course he does,” you say, brushing a tear from your cheek.

From that moment on, Morgan takes her role as big sister very seriously. She insists on helping with everything, from feeding Jake to picking out his clothes. And while life with two kids is undeniably hectic, it’s also more wonderful than you ever could have imagined.

Watching Tony with your children, the way he adores them and you, makes your heart feel like it could burst. Your family is complete, and every day feels like the greatest adventure yet.

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

Agust D 'Haegeum' MV

[unhonestlymirror]

Gojo Satoru is an awesome person, and people clearly don't value him enough

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Thinking about writing a disaster ship for Claudine Frollo ✨✨

[ckret2]

I might tweak some details later (jewelry? take the ribbon off the bow?) but I've about got a Scalene design I like. The lipstick is really the centerpiece of the design. Now let's infodump! With more art!

🔺 Notice her lines are a a little curvy. It's not for artistic effect. She's got a Fictional Polygon Physical Disorder that makes her bendier than she should be—meaning, among other things, sides that curve and flex.

🔺 It's also the kind of condition with symptoms that are romanticized by people who don't grok that it's a debilitating medical condition. Sides that curve and flex? How exotic! This went to her head in the wrong ways.

🔺 Bill was born with the same condition. You know how squishy and blobby he was as a baby? Thaaat's genetic! He was a lot squishier than most babies! And, consequently, more adorable.

🔺Scalene dreamed of being a famous super model. Was actually a teen beauty queen at mid-tier beauty pageants. She thinks it's always somebody else's fault she wasn't more successful.

🔺 She took Bill to his first baby beauty pageant the day he was born. He did, in fact, have a Best Baby Ever award presented to him by the mayor, but to be fair he was only competing against like 6 other babies and who's going to withhold a trophy from a newborn on his birthday? Anyway the 6-12 month group and 12-24 month groups also each had a Best Baby Ever award.

🔺 This was an absolutely bonkers thing for Scalene to do.

🔺 What's that small scrunkly thing doing at a pageant, he can't even see color yet.

🔺 Their fictional squishy medical condition doesn't just accidentally make shapes cute. It's the kind of condition that affects just about all parts of the body: sides won't stay straight, poor muscle tone resulting in instability & weakness, poor motor coordination & clumsiness, back aches & pains (well, triangles don't have "backs." side aches?), easily dislocated joints, and increasingly skewed sides with age. Just about everyone in Scalene's family is born equilateral and ends up extremely scalene after young adulthood. The rest of her family have normal relationships with their condition, she's the only one who's weird about it

🔺 She was very rough on her body in pursuit of pageantry success, but her physical symptoms & associated chronic pain got a lot worse due to having a kid; she had to retire from pageantry for good. She doesn't blame Bill for this at all. Out loud, to his face. (If she hadn't been so rough on herself in pageants, having a kid probably wouldn't have impacted her health this much. She doesn't consider this.)

🔺 She's weirdly intent on seeing Bill become the success she wasn't. He's her little golden child, he deserves to be seen as the greatest! He'll show them how great he is for mommy, won't he? He won't let mommy down, will he? When he's very young, she takes him to child pageants—he'll appreciate the lessons they taught him when he's older—and this lasts until he finds out he can get out of it by pyrokinetically setting the stage on fire.

🔺 She jokes ("jokes") that she didn't realize that when she was having a kid, she was firing herself from the pageant circuit so she could hire & train her own replacement. These jokes had no long-term impact on Bill at all!!!

(Compare/contrast: how we're told Stan's "You watch the movie, you scare the girl, the girl snuggles up next to you, next thing you know you gotta raise a kid, your life falls apart" is repeating something he heard his dad say.)

🔺 Did you know that squeaky baby shoes are sometimes medical devices? Squeakers help children with poor muscle tone and delayed motor skills learn how to walk correctly: it makes them want to walk on their heels instead of their toes so they can hear the squeak. Did you know sometimes oversized squeaky baby shoes are worn by young kids who need ankle braces? Did you know that kids with poor motor coordination can take a longer time to learn complicated motor skills like tying shoelaces rather than using shoes with velcro straps? It sure is interesting that baby Bill's most defining visual feature is oversized squeaky sneakers with velcro straps and that he kept wearing velcro shoes until he was 16!

🔺 As a baby, Bill's angles were technically supposed to be equilateral,* but thanks to his inherited condition, his angles were so loose his top corner practically formed a right angle. Not good: the closer a triangle creeps to being obtuse, the more likely he'll have muscle strain and medical issues from his organs being squished out of place by his own exoskeleton.

(*supposed to be equilateral: but after receiving treatment, they discovered his angles were still 60º, 60º, and 60.1º, which is mathematically impossible for a triangle... on a euclidean plane. But on a non-euclidean 3D plane, such as in spherical geometry, a triangle's angles can add up to more than 180º... and it's this slight 3D flex to Bill's body that lets him see up into the third dimension.)

🔺 For his first few years of life he actually had a hypotenuse, until physical therapy and side braces helped him improve his muscle tone. Sometimes he still reflexively refers to his base as his hypotenuse. It's fine, sweetie, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, mommy had a hypotenuse too. Don't tell anyone.

🔺 Scalene took baby Billy to a lot of doctors as a kid, just like how she was taken to a lot of doctors! Doctor for his side braces, doctor for his physical therapy, doctor for his shoes... doctor for his eye when he started talking about seeing white glitter at the edge of his vision. Scalene didn't have that symptom, but the eye doc said their condition does occasionally come with visual problems—blurred vision, lazy eye, visual field defects... It sounds like Bill's main field of vision is unobstructed, but if the visual snow he's getting in his peripheral vision is distracting him and confusing his little toddler mind into thinking it's something real, they can give him a medication that'll narrow his field of view. From the sound of it, he's not seeing anything important at the edge of his vision, anyway.

And she only wants what's best for her golden child.

🔺 Scalene's "bow" is actually a medical device: sort of like a medical corset, it helps tug and press her anatomy into place to reduce pain. Bill started wearing one preventatively—if he can keep everything in place when he's young, it'll take longer for his angles to skew when he's older. Like wearing a retainer when you get your braces out.

🔺 He has a cane for the same reason—he doesn't need it NOW when he's young, but he might as well keep it on hand, by age 35 he'll probably want to stand more often than float and when he's standing he'll probably want the extra support! Even if he doesn't need it by 35, he will eventually!!

🔺 Bill doesn't medically need a bow tie in the third dimension either; but he adapted it to help tie his 3D exoskeleton on.

🔺 A trillion years later, Bill suspects that his mutation to see the third dimension came, at least in part, from his mom's medical condition. Except, she didn't have that vision. Nobody else with the condition on her side of the family had that vision. It's not a known symptom of the condition. His dad had stuff going on with his eye too, did he get it from his dad's side? A mix of both? Just a standalone random mutation? He doesn't know; and with the rest of his species dead, there's no way for him to find out.

But back to Scalene!

🔺 She's not quite red, she's rose gold. However she doesn't like it. She thinks it's a sort of pinkish brown and very dull. She uses makeup to make herself look redder. Note how bright red her sides are: in a species where only your edges are visible, body paint is the most common form of makeup+fashion. She's pleased her baby came out gold-gold, it's much cuter. Bill knows she's rose gold, but he only saw her with her makeup off when she was tired or sick; he remembers her painted red.

🔺 She adores her Billy; but she somewhat sees him as an extension of her will. She thinks he's just perfect and will tell anyone who asks; but she also demands he be perfect and is furious when he isn't. She'll protect him from ANY perceived external threat; but she'll tough love him into being the kind of success she thinks he should be. He learns early that when he screws up, he can often redirect his mother's anger by pointing his finger and saying it's someone else's fault, and she'll bring the wrath of heaven down on them. Woe to the teacher who gives Bill an F on a test.

🔺 I'm on a quest to write Bill as a foil to the entire cast of Gravity Falls, and that extends to writing his family as a foil to the entire cast's families. Scalene's a blend of Pacifica's mom and Caryn: beautiful, proud of her beauty, afraid of losing her youth, self-aggrandizing, quick to lie about her & her family's (false/exaggerated) accomplishments—and very aware of the fact that you can say anything about woo-woo mystical matters and nobody can prove you wrong.

🔺 So she takes it great when they figure out Bill is, like, legit psychic. And by "takes it great" I mean "starts a cult."

There's what I've got on Scalene. Fortunately, I got to keep all my pre-TBOB headcanons about Bill's mom, I only had to change her shape & color. I already had medical trauma baked right into the family!

(Preemptive disclaimer before I get any "but she doesn't look 2D" comments: we all understand that the baby Bill picture we see in the book is a psychically-generated 3D approximation of Bill's 2D Euclidean form, right? And that drawing a 3D baby Bill design alongside rigidly 2D parent designs would make it look like even in the second dimension Bill already had a 3D body, right? So, if we're drawing a 3D baby Bill and want to convey that they looked similar to him, we have to draw his parents in a similar art style, right? Okay, great.)

[anaconamor]

night in - jb blurb.

warm bubble feeling burns your chest as you feel jude place a kiss on your temple, sitting right next to you on the floor, placing your hot drink next to his. “you’re having way to much fun on this,” he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder, while looking at you intently as you finished the second bag of the moana’s flowerpot legos.

“i fear i’m having way too much fun,” you joke back, clicking and connecting the small lego. “you realize these are made for nine year olds right?” he pushed further, helping you separate the legos in piles so you could find the legos easier. “so? i don’t complain when you play fifa at your grown age? screaming like a little girl when you unpack a player?” you defend watching jude open his mouth in shock, a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“i’m glad we stayed in. i haven’t seen you much lately and i didn’t want to have just dinner and the call if a night. i love these little moments with you, d’you know? our playlist playing in the back, some baking, maybe cooking? but definitely how i have you all to myself…” jude says, his hand running up and down your spine, making you spin and face him directly where you brush a tamed curl back to already done hair.

“sounds like you just want to keep me for yourself?” you say watching how jude is ready to explain and yap but you cut him off quickly. “i’m kidding. i love staying in dates. especially around this time of your when your season is beginning to get hectic. believe it or not these dates have so much more meanings to when we’re out. i get to see a side of you only i can experience and see, and im so incredibly grateful for that. for you,” you smile leaning into his side where jude shyly looks down.

“don’t get shy with me mister.”

“oh like how you get shy after we-”

“okay so that’s like completely different?” you laugh dismissing the idea that was brewing in his head. “also i get to play house when i’m here. look at this place! the kitchen? the pool? the garden? the garden is my favorite we’ve grown so much in just under a year!” you say excitedly, giving up on the lego set, as now all you wanted was to be next with jude. to feel his safe embrace, his scent, to feel the comfort only he can give.

“those damn bunnies ruined it at first, i swear i was going to insane. i just know they were doing it on purpose after one stared me down as it ate the cherry tomatoes!” jude reclaimed, leaning back against the couch, bringing you to his lap where he traced your bracelet and the tiny tattoo on your thigh. the one of many you had, but this one was jude’s favorite. you didn’t have to tell him, but he could tell it was meant for him.

“to be fair you tormented that poor thing,” you recalled, thinking of the endless possibilities jude did so he could get rid of the bunnies in a happy manner. “it got what it deserved,” jude shrugged, taking a sip of mug, offering one of the infamous pumpkin pilsbury cookies to you.

“what else is on your fall bucket list?”

“we’ve done mostly all besides watching scary movies, visit a pumpkin patch and get a couples costume for trent’s party soon. besides that we’ve knocked everything else out,” you say cheery, the sense of joy never leaving you, knowing you were able to cross off and completely those wishes. “what has been your favorite activity yet?” he asked, tugging on a tiny string from your knitted sweater.

“probably decorating your house for the fall, since it was way to white… that or when we painted the pumpkins with the little kids,” you spoke softy and gently. watching jude’s eyes crinkle from paying attention to remembering the beautiful memory. “i really enjoyed that too, but nothing could beat fright fest,” jude laugh making you shake your head rapidly. t

“jude! i still haven’t forgave you for that! you take us to apparently a theme park and then walking in, there’s horror everywhere. especially those damn clowns…” you say, a tint of nervousness as you spoke out loud. “but i made it up to you,” he pouts, leaning up and pulling your face closer to his. “i won you a plenty stuffed animals and went downstairs for a week to get a glass of water. i was your protector.”

“you always are,” you hug him, your fingers grazing and tracing his ears down to his. “the beard has grown on me. you look very manly,” you say, his hairs tickling your palm. “i was thinking about shaving it soon,” he says, feeling completely relaxed as you touched him. it was that effect you had on him and he loved that so much. no feeling or person could make him feel the way you felt.

“nope. it will take too long for me to get used to,” you deny shaking your head as jude chuckles, grabbing your thighs and placing you on your back, jude not holding back from his physical touch. peppering kisses on your forehead, nose, cheeks, your lips then down to your neck where you had another tattoo. your weak spot. “stop it, i know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work,” you warn.

“i’m just trying to show you my love and affection,” he said sarcastically, playing with the fabric on your chest, as he had layed his head gently on you. “yes but you have two meanings towards that… your mom is also right upstairs…” you whisper the last part, afraid of speaking to loudly. this was her house as much as it was his as well. he sighs, accepting defeat and pulling you closer to him. not before pulling you into a kiss that made you want to say fuck it. that damn kiss that forever leaves you breathless and wanting more.

“we should watch a horror movie,” you try to say between his kiss but jude was to focused on you. how you kissed him. how you tasted. feeling weaker but also stronger than ever. “no,” he stoped, this time flipping you over so you could lay on his chest.

“right i forgot. you’re a scaredy cat when it comes-”

“no i’m not! i just don’t want to bring any bad energy in my house,” he cheesed hardly, looking up knowing you were giving him a “are you serious look”.

“the best i can do is watch the nightmare before christmas. take it or leave it,” he shrugged hearing you laugh. “works for me, i’ll hold you tight so you don’t run off,” you teased, jude gasping. “listen the movie is already creepy as it is… especially that little scientist,” he shuddered.

after cleaning up and putting away any mess and cleaning the dishes, instead of traumatizing your tall boyfriend, you settled with his choice of movie. happy either way since you knew jude loved showing you his collection of favorite old films. another part of his love language towards you. you couldn’t count how many times, not just with movies, but items, people even, that meant so much to him.

“are you sleepy?” you whisper, jude nodding. “i am but i want to stay up because i want to spend all the time i can with you,” he yawned, kissing your head. “i can stay the night if that’s okay with you and your mom,” you suggested knowing jude would be immediately agreeing. “my mom adores you and you know she would rather have you stay than leave so late, especially me,” jude said, his thumb drawing circles on your hip.

“i’ll stay,” you smile, cuddling closer to jude as he looked down and smiled. not holding back from taking a picture and posting it, with an old school r&b song. soft launching you once again to the world. which you didn’t mind. “hey, why aren’t we shark boy and lava girl for trent’s party? or-” jude said abruptly.

“i’m leaving.”

“wait no!”

[swivi]

Kinich Voicelines when asked about his s/o

After the traveler and paimon met his S/O

Paimon:"You have a S/O!?"

Kinich:" What? Oh..you mean {{name}}? Yes, they are my s/o. When did you guys meet?"

Ajaw:"Your also surprised huh? Even the almighty k'uhul Ajaw can't believe this loser got a girlfriend/boyfriend. Ridiculous I tell you..they must be blind!

How did you guys meet?

Kinich:"They saved my life after I got injured from a commission and was close to death. I will forever be thankful to them."

Ajaw:"They ruined my plans. I was so close to finally having a body and what happens? This idiot comes and practically revives him. It's not fair I tell you...Not fair!"

What kinich thinks about his S/O

Kinich:"They are a very nice and considerate person. I owe them my life from the time they saved me."

Ajaw:"Oh please, he practically acts like a lovesick fool anytime their near. You should see him giving them those sparkling eyes when their ne- HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING!?" *gets put in time out.*

Kinich:"Ignore him, he always talks nonsense when given the time."

Getting told someone tried to flirt with you and wouldn't back off.

Kinich:"...I see..and what did this person look like?"

Ajaw:"Oh that idiot..he's probably gonna hunt the person down. I honestly kinda feel sorry for them."

What kinich says about his S/O part two

Kinich:"They can be quite hard on themselves at times. I don't get why they would even think they aren't good enough for me.. In my eyes they're the best thing that's ever happened to me over the years. I'm very grateful to have met them that fateful day..and one day I hope that they can see how much of a wonderful person they are to me."

Ajaw:"Oh you..are you done? What did I tell you? Completely lost and lovesick. It disgusts me.....ugh...I AM THE ALMIGHTY K'UHUL DRAGONLORD AJAW THAT DESERVES RESPECT AND POWER OVER ALL, I WILL NOT ACCEPT THI- *Gets put in time out.*

What Ajaw thinks about the two of them dating

Ajaw:"Those two make me sick, I tell you sick! They're always looking at each other with those lovesick eyes..it makes me wanna puke my guts out. Don't get me started on the time, I walked in on them making o-" *Gets put in time out again.*

Kinich:"Ignore Ajaw, he's probably jealous because no one would want to date him."

[feistyvirghoe]

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮? ﾟ･*☆¸¸.•*¨*•

pick a pile u feel most called to, the one u cannot look away from, the one that is pulsing, go with your gut, always trust yourself, and if u feel called to more that’s cool baby boo! there more for u!

these are general and for a vast amount of ppl, don’t get ur undies all twisted up bc it’s not resonating, it’s normal and it’s fine, this just wasn’t for u! <3

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 1 - i see your future partner will see you as someone who has been through a hell of a lot, whatever u have overcome just makes them look at you as like this strong individual, someone who has suffered a lot probably at the hands of others too. they see you as an extremely fair individual, you don’t back down from a fight or challenge, whatever comes your way you still persevere and continue to move forward, it’s like u have been through so much strife but you’re still positive about life, the circumstances, like you try not to let that get to you, you’re an honest person, they see u as someone who’s fire is still there after all the weird conflicts you’ve gone through, you don’t let it break you down, still standing strong, but even though u may be very assertive and someone who seeks the truth, like a whistleblower, but u look so happy and vibrant on the outside like u kind of deceive people with that soft, warm, joyful exterior but if anyone tries you, they get like instant karma or just karma in general, like you’re not the one to fucking mess with, there is this passion within you that needs to be shown off, like letting yourself be seen.

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 2 - your future person sees you as a bit naive but not in a bad way, there’s this innocence to you guys, you’re very okay like the lovebirds but then there’s sadness and a lot of fucking grief, maybe it’s coming from losing friends, family, lovers, pets, could be anything sentimental and close to your heart but they see u as so gifted and just as someone who doesn’t really break the rules, they see you as someone who may need some compassion in their life, like more support, i mean you’re extremely supported by the divine but u probably don’t feel that way in the 3D, like here physically IRL, do u not have many people that you can count on? like you have to do it all alone which you don’t and i’m sure your person will see this as well. there is so much good out there waiting for you, they’d want to see you and help u move on from whatever has happened that affected you so heavily, almost like u feel like you have no one on your side, but they’re there babe, it’s okay and completely harmless to obey and let yourself change for the better, for your highest good! they don’t want you holding onto this pain, i was very jokey about it earlier so maybe u guys can be the ones to brush it off but no, sitting with what happened and reflecting and not looking backwards at a past that you can’t change may help some. you’re worth so much more than whoever or whatever fucked u over, you deserve to be happy and feel happy and full of positive LOVING ENERGY! i feel like tapping back into spirit and becoming closer with the divine will help..easing the discomfort emotionally, you’re always loved and protected!

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 3- okay my p3s, it took me a minute to feel out your energy, idk i was just getting really frustrated and now im sweaty and i just took a shower, so im feeling like your future lover may see you as a “hothead” no, you just have a temper, it seems like you like things your way, like you’re not the one to let shit slide, you stand up for yourself, something about you is just very fast moving, like go go go go (cue the cringey ass carnival song 💀) okay so yeah you have a temper and can be quick to jump the gun and just fucking move people out of your way. i see they see you as someone who can’t stand when other people are just slow moving, like you need to be stimulated and engaged with whatever you’re doing, like you will keep doing something over and over until you reach your desired outcome. i like yall, u guys don’t play around, and that’s what it is, your fucking feisty ass, my pile that seems to embrace change whether you like it or not, it’s like it is what it is…i hope your person is strong as fuck and not just physically i mean mentally, you’re in your own fucking world, it’s like they may even have to ground you and bring u back down to earth to help u stabilize yourself, let yourself take a break from the fucking overachieving i don’t wanna say it like that but if you keep working yourself hard to the point of no return you’re gonna crash and i feel like u don’t mind bringing others in the mix, it’s like if i go down we all going down lmfao…just breathe, relax, take a minute to go outside and embrace your surroundings even if it’s shitty, there is always something around us that is so small but it puts a smile on your beautiful face. you don’t always have to keep your guards up and yes people may wanna try to come after you but just know you don’t have to do much to fend these weirdos off, they could never really reach ya level. your future lover sees all of this, you stand up for yourself and u show out too, like don’t fucking mess w me is y’all’s vibe, HAHAHAHA FUCK AROUND AND U GON DEF FIND OUT 💀

(this pile took such a turn lmao, it felt so chaotic ahhh, i hope u guys find some time to seriously just CHILL..no worrying about nothing just woosah baby, idk like whatever calms you down do it! rfn haha 😆ugh i wanted to write more but i promised myself to make the piles shorter, but pls lmk if u guys like longer more detailed ones or straight to the point, i mean either way it’s up to me but i wanna hear from you guys 🩵😚)

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 4- you guys are my leaders, even if you don’t see it this is all about ur future lover and how they see you, you seem to have a very strong head on your shoulders, you guys are so fucking courageous and extremely fast moving again similar to pile 3 but not quite, they’re like the energizer bunnies (i’m sorry to pile 3 that’s not a jab lmao) but you guys are more strategic, the other pile is more so spontaneous, okay if u feel called to it just go for it and head to that pile but you guys my lil babies hahaha, u may not like that, the lil cutesy names, but i mean underneath it all is just a sweet ball of sunshine, you guys like control and your future lover will automatically see it, it’s like you guys may not like to see things out of place, no matter what it is, like you need a schedule, you can’t just free ball it, you guys are like methodical and you’re not giving up without a fight, you’ve come so far and for some random ass weirdo to just come on in and try and undermine you is a very wrong chess move, you’re ten steps ahead bitch, i feel like you know more than you let on, like yes you may be cool calm and collected but oh do your words have people either checking themself or they’re in a corner crying from what you said, maybe u can be a little blunt with the way you interact with others, but i don’t think it’s coming from such a bad place, that’s just in your nature, you know how to tame your inner demons, the beast within, u can look at your own mess and take accountability, very honest straightforward, cut throat ass person, and your person is digging that shit, they like your dominance and how assertive you are, like the fucking boss, mommy/daddy/authoritative energy!

THANK U FOR FUCKING BEING HERE U AMAZING ASS QUEEN/KING/GOD/GODDESS !!!!

i appreciate you for stopping by and letting me read for you, i have been gone for some time but im back bitch and im here to fucking stay! idk if anyone else has been feeling this weird ass energy of people like not wanting you to succeed or see you doing well, i’ve been feeling that and a mix of my own pent up shit i need to deal with but i hope you liked this reading and if you don’t that’s literally fine babe, just don’t be an asshole about it, if it doesn’t resonate what??? LET IT GOOOOOO ! i have to say that!

these are extremely general readings and they’re meant for entertainment purposes, please don’t take things so seriously and also realize my readings are for people above 18!

[ddarker-dreams]

Hi Lock!! I have a question: Outside of Blade which HSR guys do you think make good yanderes and why?

HMMM i think it'd be sunday and aventurine.

sunday is a contender for obvious reasons. a central tenet to his belief system is his willingness to sacrifice self-determination for 'paradise.' while he can understand why some might resist the idea, he remains firm in his convictions. he's the literal embodiment of 'i know what's best for you.' every instance of pain in your life is exploitable to him, made all the worse since technically, he isn't wrong. sure, hindsight is 50/50 and you could probably come to those conclusions yourself, but he doesn't stop there. he'll argue that this cycle will perpetuate itself so long as you're swept up in the chaos of the universe.

above all else, what he espouses is certainty. certainty that you won't be placed in harm's way, exposed to cruelty, or made to suffer any negative emotions. he'll frame it like a choice despite having already made up his mind. well-intentioned though misguided as this all may sound, he's a control freak to his core. press him enough and the cracks in his façade present themselves. he has to be the one to provide you with this paradise — any argument that there's potentially a better future out there for you is met with a tense smile.

"nothing and no one could hope to understand you better than i do," he'll retort. "yourself included, dearest."

aventurine's an interesting yandere because he kinda fights against the obsessive impulses. he isn't delusional enough to think restricting your life is going to win him tons of brownie points, nor would he derive pleasure from it. you're left to roam on a long leash. this, in and of itself, is a gamble. he's betting that you won't read the writing on the wall if the rose-colored glasses he encourages you to wear make the words pretty enough. this introduces a thrilling element — how much can he get away with, exactly? at what point does he cede ground, when does he hold firm?

at some point, his tendency to self-sabotage comes into play. he knows you deserve better. consequently, he shows his hand when it's arguable he would've been better off keeping his cards close to his chest. aventurine will be a bit too restrictive, or not bother to keep his manipulation subtle. maybe it's a subconscious push to save you from himself, or, far likelier, perhaps he feels himself undeserving of long-term stability.

"what? did you forget the kind of person you're dealing with?" aventurine's chuckle is caustic to both his throat and your ears. "i might not cheat when playing games, but that doesn't mean i play fair."

[syrupfog]

Modern au where Sanji, adopted off the streets by Zeff when he was ten, spent eight years convinced that when he turns eighteen Zeff is going to throw him out, say that he served his time and he wants Sanji gone. 

Then that doesn’t HAPPEN, and Sanji is afraid to ever bring it up.

He goes off to university expecting that when winter break comes he won’t have a bed to return to, and that makes him a little… erratic. Throwing himself into his classes to keep his scholarship but also working overtime to get money to afford a place to stay when he’s on break and in the summers, and overall just completely neglects human connection because he’s convinced he’s on his own. 

It’s probably a miracle Luffy finds him and forces friendship onto him, bringing his friends into Sanji’s space (His dorm roommate Gin dropped out in the first week so Sanji’s REALLY been alone). 

And with Luffy comes his asshole friend Zoro, who Sanji learns is ALSO adopted and he RESENTS him for it. Because Zoro is perfectly secure in his relationship with Mihawk— probably because he was adopted at such a young age. 

But Sanji doesn’t feel that security. He knows he’s beyond lucky to have been picked up by Zeff at all, knows he can’t keep asking for free handouts from him. It would be more than enough to be hired at the Baratie someday.

But Luffy pushes into his life and pushes Zoro in along with him, and one day manages to drag Sanji to an Actual Party after his shift in the canteen is done, and get him properly drunk for the first time maybe ever. 

Sanji is an angry AND weepy drunk.

He tries to fight Zoro (who can hold his alcohol just fine) then ends up collapsing on him in tears, yelling that it’s not FAIR that Zoro has everything he wants. Zoro assumes this means his three swords. He tells Sanji he’s not sharing.

Sanji sobs that his dad is going up abandon him, has probably already thrown his shit to the kerb. 

Zoro, in an oddly selfless (to Sanji’s eyes) act, says that Sanji’s old man can shove it, and if he’s really like that then he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve Sanji anyway.

Then he says Sanji can come home with HIM for winter break. Perona always brings guests (boyfriends) home on holidays. 

And as drunk as Sanji is at the time, it’s a surprise he remembers it the next morning. 

But he does. 

And he had said yes, so… he can’t just back out now.

(Plus, free accommodations? Sanji’s meals right now are what he can sneak from the canteen while he works, he’s saving as much as possible to afford a place this summer without a co-signer)

So winter break comes and Sanji doesn’t even try to contact Zeff, just goes off with Zoro. It’s a little awkward but arguing with Zoro is almost relaxing at this point, familiar. And Perona is… well, all women are perfect. 

And then, and THEN—

He gets a call from Zeff. 

And Zeff is fucking PISSED at him. 

Because what does he MEAN he’s not coming home for winter hols? He didn’t even CALL TO SAY SO. WHAT THE HELL, EGGPLANT? 

And Sanji’s there in the Mihawk living room with his dad yelling loud enough for Zoro to hear and he yells back WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, OLD MAN? Because “I turned eighteen! I’m an adult! You don’t need to pretend to care about me anymore!” 

(Zoro isn’t even pretending not to listen, he’s staring) 

And Zeff yells that Sanji is “a pile of horse shit” and “of course I fucking care you shitty little dumbass, you think I’d just kick you out after going through hell to get you?” 

And Sanji’s in shock because he— he really thought— 

“What,” Zeff continues (he might as well be on speakerphone he’s so loud). He says, “you think that little of me, you shitty kid?” 

And Sanji says, “it’s not THAT, you’ve given me too damn much already! I don’t deserve all this shitty charity!” 

And that sets Zeff off about how it’s not charity when it’s his OWN KID

anyway. He yells a long time. Sanji sits there and takes it and does not make eye contact with Zoro until after he’s finally hung up. 

When he finally does, he says, “I guess I should go.” 

“What?” asks Zoro. “Why?” 

“I got you to invite me over out of pity when I apparently had a dad this whole time.” 

He’s so fucking embarrassed that Zoro heard all of that. 

Zoro rolls his eyes. “Fucking hell, Curly, I didn’t invite you over because I felt sorry for you.” 

Sanji squints. “Why the fuck else would you have?” He asks.

“I did it because I fucking like you and didn’t want you to be miserable. Also because Mihawk is always on my case about bringing home a boyfriend, he’s tired of meeting Perona’s weekly boy toys.” 

Sanji squints harder. “I’m not your boyfriend,” he says.

Zoro grins. “Not YET,” he says. 

Sanji feels incensed. “You can’t just—” 

Jumping to his feet, Zoro draws his swords from behind the sofa. “If I win this fight, you’re my boyfriend.” 

“Fucking DEAL,” Sanji says, clambering up out of his chair. “When I win, you’re going to have to ASK me on an ACTUAL DATE, FIRST.” 

The fight is a draw. 

They spend the rest of break arguing about how to start dating. 

Without the weight of the impending loss of the only family he’s known, Sanji spends spring classes more relaxed, happier, willing to give in to Luffy’s every whim (and he has many). 

Sanji goes home to Zeff in the spring, and he brings Zoro.

[bugslaststraw]

See it's funny because in the games, and in any other assorted media before the movies came out, everyone low-key just hates Robotnik. And not even in the fun dedicated way like they all seem to think he's a bit of a failure. Which sounds weird if you don't know anything about Sonic (and certainly sounded weird to me three weeks ago when I was one of those people) but it really is just genuinely the case. I think?

Obviously his family all hate him. Movie-only fans will have an idea about this one; we've got good old Geralt Robotnik who didn't give a rats ass about him in favour of his long-dead cousin Maria, whom he wants revenge for. Geralt manipulated him and used him and said "oh Ivo you're no Maria" even though Ivo probably doesn't even know who the fuck Maria is in the movie universe and so on, et cetera. Geralt sucks just as much in the games and did approximately the same thing there.

What you may or may not know is that in one of the games, Eggman runs into a descendant of his from generations into the future. That guy's name is Eggman Nega, and he absolutely hates his ancestor. He thinks he's cramping his style? He's trying to go back in time and kill him to restore his reputation as far as I remember. Not to mention he has other family and cousins, none of whom give a flying fuck what happens to him. I distinctly remember someone who's name was Collin but who's nickname was Snively and who also worked with Eggman at some point, but hated him, and then later betrayed him. I can't remember a single family member of Eggman's that actually seemed to like or even tolerate him.

He's had a lot of henchpeople too. Most of them were robots. A lot of them, like Omega, and Gamma, and Sage to an extent (although she was more like a robot daughter he built for himself) betrayed him and joined the good guys too (Sage is another outlier, she isn't exactly switching over I mean she definitely likes him but she definitely isn't loyal either so.??) I mean, Eggman isn't even surprised by the fourth time. Smaller minions like Orbot (and Cubot? another outlier) and their predecessors weren't able to betray Eggman, but definitely would've if they could've because they all disliked him because he's allegedly a shit boss. (Who says he isn't. He's evil after all.)

He "contracts" a lot of spies and stuff too. Animal characters. They all hate him as well, but he tends to hate them in return, so at least those are entirely fair game.

Not to mention all the villains he's conveniently happened to need the same thing as at the start of the game, but become inconvenient to towards the end, so they betray him as quickly as possible to get ready for their final boss fight with Sonic towards the conclusion of the story. There's more of those than I can count or care to remember. He meets his alternative universe self once and they hate each other. There's even a moment in I think the comics where Eggman loses all his memories and temporarily becomes nice, and hangs out in a village and builds things for the furry people who live there. He makes a wooden puppet style robot that also becomes like a daughter to him. She's good at engineering, just like him. Of course when he gets his memories back and becomes evil again she leaves as quickly as possible and later helps Sonic & co. She's very resentful about it all, I've heard.

None of that is surprising, of course. Eggman is an evil villain to the heroes and a loser to the villains. It's funny! It's a joke. They need to introduce scarier villains in the games to ramp up tension but they can't exactly just drop Sonic's nemesis down a hole somewhere, being as iconic as he is... So he sticks around. But as a joke, rather than an actual threat. And it's a little sad, yeah. But he deserves it! He's trying to create some sort of totalitarian egg-state and he bullies Sonic for having friends, for Christ's sake. Why should anyone want to stay loyal to a guy like that- and why should anyone do it at all? Joining the heroes is the cool thing to do! Shadow does it, Knuckles does it, Omega kinda sorta does it, Sage is toeing the damn line from what I've heard, it's...

Okay, it's kind of a lot? I mean I understand having nobody that's a good guy like the villain, but like... Not even his damn henchpeople robots? In a lot of the animated shows and comics he keeps building robot wives for himself that are explicitly created just to like him, by him. That or he's into someone who's into one of the animals, or similar. I mean, it's that bad. And it's like... Nobody? Not even once in like thirty years did anyone come up with the idea to give Eggman?? This behemoth among famous pop culture characters? A loyal henchman?

And- well, okay, nowadays this isn't true anymore. I'm sure we all know why. And that's kind of fun; in 2020, Doctor Robotnik gained his first and only loyal henchperson. Great! But...

Jeff Fowler is a Sonic fan, isn't he. Would he know..?

Would anyone involved in making the movies know that Eggman famously... Doesn't have any friends? That nobody seems to like him? That he's apparently infinitely betrayable? Do they know? Do they know? Is that why the third movie is written like that? Is it not just a character complex pulled out of someone's- I mean, when movie Eggman says that there's only ever been one person who actually liked him and one person who actually cared about him... He's quite literally right, isn't he. As in... Since 1991... Like 34 years since conception as a handful of red pixels in the hottest new platformer game there's actually, literally only been one character..? ooh I think I need to lie down for a bit

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part three]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 2k

masterlist

Paige has only ever fallen in love once.

She knows that it’s wrong, everything against her moral code, to have a girl in her bed while thinking of another one entirely. But in the middle of the night, when Ella is fast asleep and Paige shifts away to her side of the bed, her thoughts can’t help but wander to soft brown eyes and long tan legs. When Ella chooses a sweater from her closet to throw on, she can’t help but think of how Azzi wore it better.

But these are just remnants of feelings, Paige reminds herself. She’d gotten over Azzi long ago, when she’d realized there was no chance her best friend could ever reciprocate the same feelings. Azzi was always the first one to slip out after sex, talking about having to study or do something important. More often than not, Paige woke up to an empty bed. Azzi was the one who always changed the subject whenever Paige brought up their situationship, clearly not wanting to take things further. Azzi was the one who had met Ella enthusiastically, patting Paige on the back.

In other words, Azzi Fudd was very much not in love with Paige Bueckers.

So Paige knows that it’s a good thing that Azzi seems to be distancing herself, that it would probably help snap whatever was going on them completely in half. A clean break from a universe where she’s not completely and utterly in love with the one person she can’t have. But Paige also knows that she’s going absolutely batshit crazy without her, which is how she finds herself outside of Azzi’s apartment in the middle of the night for the second time in two weeks.

As soon as the doors opens, Paige blurts out, “Did she say something to you?”

Azzi stares bleary eyed and dazed at her. Paige almost blushes at how cute Azzi looks in her little pajama shorts, the cloth riding up to show the smoothness of her thighs. Blushes. She needs to get ahold of herself.

“What?” Azzi’s sure she’s half hallucinating.

“If she said some shit to you, you can tell me. You know I don’t fuck with anyone who doesn’t fuck with you.”

“No, Paige.” Azzi rubs her temples. It’s always three steps forward and four steps back with them.

“Then what’s the problem?” Paige says, frustrated. “You‘ve barely been responding to any of my texts and you keep cancelling our plans.”

“The problem is that you’re willing to break up with your girlfriend for me!”

Paige’s expression turns sour. “That’s not what I said. I’m saying that you’re my best friend. And I care about what you think.”

“We’re not normal best friends, and you know it,” Azzi accuses. “Ella doesn’t deserve this. I know what it feels like, constantly worrying about another girl. It’s not fair of you to treat her like that.”

“You’re calling me a bad girlfriend?” Paige scoffs and looks away, a dirty taste in her mouth. “You don’t exactly have expertise in this area.”

Azzi’s lips tremble. “I can’t do this anymore, Paige.”

“Wait.” Paige reaches for her, flinching when Azzi pulls away. “I’m sorry, Az. I didn’t mean that.”

“I think we should-” Azzi exhales, gathering her thoughts. “We should take some space.”

“Space?” Paige wrinkles her nose. “We’re not even dating and you’re fucking breaking up with me?”

“It’s not like anything will change from the last few weeks.” Azzi folds her arms, looking like she’d rather be anywhere than here. “We barely even talk anymore and when we do, we’re fighting. This isn’t healthy. And - and Ella is good for you. She’s safe.”

“I don’t want space,” Paige says. “I can’t do space.” Her voice cracks, and Azzi only realizes now how bloodshot her eyes are, the bags underneath dark and pronounced. “Not from you.”

Azzi wipes her cheek with her sleeve. “I’m sorry.” She opens her mouth to say something, then cuts herself off by looking away, and Paige is well versed in everything Azzi - her body language, her habits, her tells - enough to know that the younger girl is hiding something from her.

“Say it.”

“Paige, stop.”

“Tell me!”

Azzi bites her bottom lip, worrying the skin with her teeth. “I was just gonna say…” she hesitates. “I was just gonna say that I’m seeing someone else too. So space would be good. For both of us. For me.”

“You’re seeing someone else?”

Azzi ducks her head. “It’s not any of your business, but yeah.”

“Who?”

“It’s really new. We’re not even dating yet.”

Paige’s heart drops. “Is it a girl?”

“Yeah.” Paige’s heart plummets all the way to the floor. A guy, maybe she could handle. A girl? There’s something so much more intimate about being with a woman, and she doesn’t know if she can handle even just thinking about Azzi lying in bed with another girl, touching another girl, loving another girl.

“Can I meet her?”

“I’m introducing her to the team next week. You can come if you want.”

Paige nods to herself, still trying to comprehend the fact that Azzi is with a woman - a woman that’s not her.

“I’m sorry.” Azzi repeats quietly. Then she turns her back, heading back to her room. “Lock the door on your way out.”

“Azzi.” It’s a last plea, a cry for help.

The younger girl halts, but she doesn’t turn around.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” Paige’s voice is trembling.

“Of course we are.” But Azzi doesn’t sound so sure of herself.

Paige approaches her slowly from behind, putting her hands on her waist, hesitantly at first. When Azzi doesn’t move away, instead subconsciously leaning back into her touch, she rests her forehead on the younger girl’s shoulder, breathing in her scent, breathing in her. They stay like that for a few moments, breaths ragged, cheeks wet. Then Azzi’s covering her hands with her own, squeezing them gently before moving them away, stepping away, walking away, closing the door, and she’s gone.

Paige has only ever fallen in love once. Now, she thinks her heart has broken once too.

••

“I don’t like her.”

Ella brushes mascara over her lashes, dabbing at a dark blotch that had accidentally streaked her eyelid. “You haven’t even met her.”

“Well, I can already tell she’s a bitch.” Page grumbles, pacing the room for the fiftieth time that night.

“Don’t be insufferable,” Ella fixes Paige with a scrutinizing glare. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.” She grabs Paige’s hand, and Paige grimaces. Ella’s palms are always so clammy.

Much to Paige’s chagrin, her best friend isn’t even at her own apartment when they show up. The rest of the team is about to start the movie, so she sits in the corner with Ella as the lights dim. She can’t even eat the popcorn her girlfriend offers her, too busy thinking about what Azzi’s girl looks like.

Halfway through the movie, the door opens suddenly, and Azzi and the other girl fall in, giggling over something stupid. They freeze once they realize everyone’s eyes on them, but Azzi quickly straightens up and grabs her hand. “Everyone,” she says shyly. “This is Micaela.”

The entire team stands up at once, going to greet her with open arms, but Paige stays fixed to her seat, staring stubbornly at the movie. “Come on,” Ella gripes, nudging at her shoulder. “Don’t be rude.”

“Movie’s not done yet.” Paige finally reaches for the popcorn, steadfastly chewing the kernels without giving Micaela another glance.

Ella gives up, leaning back and folding her arms as she tosses another glare to the blonde. It’s only when Nika clears her throat that Paige looks up and realizes that everyone is staring at them expectantly.

Paige is resolved in her refusal to get up, but then she finally looks at Azzi. And Azzi is staring at her, with so much hurt and hope in her eyes, screaming you’re still my best friend, that Paige’s own chest hurts and she forces herself to stand up. “Hey,” she says gruffly, making her way over to Micaela and sticking out a reluctant hand. “Paige.”

“Paige! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan!” Micaela gushes.

Paige arches an eyebrow at Nika, trying to hold back a laugh, but the brunette gives her a warning glare. Coughing away her laugh, Paige nods. “That’s cool. It’s nice to meet you too.” She glances over to Azzi, making sure she did okay. Azzi’s shoulders relax, her smile becoming a little brighter, and Paige’s eyes soften.

Everyone gathers on the couches to finish watching the movie, but all Paige can hear is the low tones coming from the kitchen, where Azzi and Micaela had stayed to make food. But when she enters, Micaela is gone, and Azzi is alone.

“Bathroom,” Azzi responds to Paige’s lifted eyebrow. Paige nods, opening up the cabinet and rummaging through the snacks, feeling the weight of Azzi’s stare on her back.

“We don’t have anymore Chex mix.”

Cursing under her breath, Paige closes the cabinet.

“Your girlfriend’s wearing my hoodie, by the way.”

Paige’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Her hoodie. It’s mine.” Azzi tilts her head, studying Paige carefully.

Paige’s face warms. “Sorry. I didn’t notice. She just took it off my bed.” Her blush intensifies when she realizes the mistake she’s accidentally just admitted, and from the tense look on Azzi’s face, she’d caught it too. But instead of addressing it, Azzi turns away, busying herself with making her sandwich.

Paige waits a little longer, hoping the younger girl will say something else, but she doesn’t. So when she returns and KK’s pouring out shots, she takes more than a few.

“Okay, y’all. We playing truth or dare,” KK announces after everyone’s had a few drinks in their system.

Ignoring the complaints, KK gathers everyone in a circle. “I’ll go first,” she declares.

With the shots she’d taken earlier, Paige feels a little loose, a nice warmth in her tummy. She’s almost relaxed when KK says, “I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

As if on instinct, Paige’s eyes flick to Azzi. It’s brief, and she only hesitates for a second, but it’s enough. Ella shifts uncomfortably beside her. KK is smirking, not even trying to hide the look on her face. And Paige swears she sees a hint of a smile on Azzi’s lips before she looks away.

“Come here,” she says softly, pulling Ella in and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“On the cheek is crazy,” she hears someone mutter. Jana elbows KK, who rolls her eyes.

KK goes around, insisting on a new version of truth or dare where she gets to ask everyone the question. Having grown accustomed to KK’s antics, no one even bothers to protest against her system.

“Azzi,” KK says. “Who was your New Year’s kiss?”

The whole team oohs. Last year, they’d been in a hotel for a game on the first day of January. Everyone had gathered in the lobby to watch the ball drop, but Paige had convinced Azzi to sneak off with her, saying that it just wouldn’t be right to start a new year without a kiss. Luckily, no one had put two and two together, but they’d all noticed Azzi returning with a goofy smile. Despite their pestering, Azzi had refused to tell them. Paige had thought it was to keep their situationship on the down low, but she realizes now that maybe it was because Azzi was embarrased of her. Her chest constricts.

“I can’t remember.”

Paige’s grip on her shot cup tightens. Azzi refuses to meet her eyes.

“Must’ve been pretty bad if you can’t remember,” Ice snickers. Paige swears she’s seeing red.

“Yeah.” Azzi pours herself another shot and drains it. “Must have.”

••

“I suck at a lot of things, but kissing isn’t one of them,” Paige says, her words slurring together.

“What did you want me to say? Both of our girlfriends were just sitting in there.” Azzi argues, just as buzzed as Paige is. The two of them glare at each other, the alcohol coursing through their bodies making them hotheaded. I wanted you to say that you kissed me. I wanted you to say that you liked kissing me. I wanted you to say that kissing you makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else can. I wanted you to feel the same. Paige’s chest heaves.

Micaela walks in, instantly picking up on the tension in the room. “Everything okay, babe?” Her hands circle Azzi’s waist as she eyes the blonde warily.

“Everything’s fine,” Paige says shortly. “We’re in the middle of something here. You can go.”

“I didn’t recall asking you.” Micaela snaps with a fire Paige didn’t know she had inside of her. “Are you good?” she directs the question at Azzi, drawing her closer.

“I’m fine.”

“Is she bothering you?”

Paige expects Azzi to open her mouth and tell Micaela off, like she always does whenever someone tries to pit the two of them against each other. Paige expects Azzi to laugh at the sheer thought of having to be saved from her best friend. But Azzi doesn’t do any of those things. She says, “Yeah, she is.” And she lets Micaela lead her away.

Is it possible to get your heart broken twice?

[navybrat817]

Too early, Navy. I want cuddles with Stud.

I understand that feeling, nonnie.

A Bit Longer

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You need to get up, but Bucky wants to hold you for a bit longer. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Fluff, pet names, teasing, sugary sweetness, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I really need to stop with the cuddle ficlets, right? Eh. Stud and Smartie, deserve it. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky’s lips were the first thing you felt when you woke up, bringing a smile to your face. They grazed your shoulder as his arm tightened around your waist, keeping your back against his chest. It was a subtle way to say he wasn’t ready for you to leave the confines of your bed. Or maybe he was the one who didn’t want to leave yet.

Not that you blamed him. It was early. Maybe too early. Cuddling for a bit was always a good way to start the day, his embrace warmer than the thickest blanket. Sex also worked as a way to both wear you out and energize you to tackle the day.

Cuddle, hot sex, cuddle again. Wait, what time is it?

“Okay. We need to get up,” you croaked when you finally looked at the clock, trying in vain with a groan to break from his hold when he refused to move his arm or let you up. Any other morning, you’d wiggle back against him to give him a proper wake up call, but that wasn’t today. “I mean it. No time for sexy time. I need to make you breakfast. Feed the cats. You have to work. God, I need to look over my resume again. Work on wedding stuff. I also need to-”

The throaty chuckle beside you stopped your ramblings because how could it not? Why was his laughter so sexy? Why did his mere existence make you stop in your tracks? In what universe was that right or fair?

Actually, it’s fair because I get to marry him.

“First, there’s always time for sexy time. Two, you didn't say ‘good morning’. By the way, good morning,” he teased, turning your body to face him. “And three, hey, look at me. Let’s just stay in bed for another minute.”

Your eyes slipped shut because there would be no resisting if you stared into his. His gaze had a way of pulling you in so deeply some days you feared you'd drown. But if he ever robbed you of your ability to breathe, he’d find a way to give you air.

“Too much to do,” you muttered. You could feel the seconds slipping away and now wasn’t the time to lounge around. “And if I look at you, you’ll turn one minute into two and then three and then four and so on and so forth and such and what have you. I probably wasted a minute just saying that.”

You tried to back up a bit because no way did your breath smell pleasant and Bucky didn’t need that in his face. A hand moved to the back of your head to keep you still. He didn’t have to tell you that he didn’t care about things like morning breath. If he wanted to hold you close, he’d do just that.

No exceptions.

He chuckled again before his lips brushed your eyelids and skimmed down your cheeks. “I just want you to stay here so I can hold you for a bit longer. Is that too much to ask?”

Well, when you put it like that…

You swallowed hard when he kissed the corner of your mouth, your heart skipping a beat. You were certain an embarrassing sort of whimper slipped out when he brought his lips to the other side. He wasn't rushing or demanding anything from you or trying to turn you on. He just wanted to be there with you.

So many believed that intimacy was just sex when it was much more. It was the feeling of being close and emotionally connected. It was familiarity and even friendship. You liked Bucky from the start, but the two of you were able to build a foundation by getting to know each other. It allowed you to bond on many levels, which only grew stronger once you two became a couple.

He showed you once again, without words, that he was your other half.

“I can feel you thinking, Smartie,” he whispered, his lips trailing back to your forehead.

“Just thinking of us, Stud,” you admitted, pressing your body closer to feel his chest against yours. You breathed him into your lungs and wondered if he knew how addictive he was. Savoring the moment, you allowed yourself to stay tangled up in him before you had to face the day.

His hand moving up and down your side nearly lulled you back to sleep. “You thinking about how you drive me crazy?”

What?

“I drive you crazy?!” You asked, realizing your mistake the moment your eyes flew open. A sea of blue stared back at you and you were too late to stop yourself from taking the plunge. Your gaze didn't have to drift down to know that he was wearing a triumphant smirk. “You made me open my eyes.”

“I sure did,” he smiled.

Well played, Stud. Well played.

The things you had to do seemed almost insignificant as you looked at each other. A minute went by as you listened to the beat of his heart and made no attempt to get up. The tips of your fingers brushed along the scruff on his chin as another minute ticked by and you reveled in the sigh he gave you in return.

Is this what living in the moment means?

“Will it always be like this?” You asked.

“Always like what?”

“You wanting to stay in bed with me a bit longer, even if we both have stuff to do.”

With a kiss to the tip of your nose and one against your smiling lips, he smiled back. “Always.”

Logically, you knew every morning couldn't be this way since life wasn't a fairy tale. The romantic part of you though, the one he helped bring to life, believed the two of you would continue to write your story together and make your own rules. If that meant the two of you cuddled in bed for a few more minutes, you’d happily help him write that chapter.

And every chapter after that.

Where do I get a man like this? 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[buckyalpine]

I'm in a angsty, fluffy, sensitive babie mood. You know that silly prank people do where they text/talk to their partner all serious about having to confess something serious just to tell them "I'm Batman". So imagine Bucky does that but he has no idea how badly it would trigger you.

"Y/n" Bucky entered your shared bedroom quietly, letting his heavy duffle bag hit the ground with a thud. "There's-there's something I have to tell you"

"What is it, is everything okay baby" You set down the book you were reading, growing worried seeing his fallen expression. He sighs, slowly approaching the bed and taking a seat by the edge next to you. You move to see if he's injured anywhere but he stops you, resting his hand on your leg.

"I'm fine. It's just-something I've been meaning to tell you. Probably something I should've told you a long time ago" He bites his lip contemplating his next words, itching to burst into a fit of giggles. "I have to tell you the truth"

"Tell me the truth?" Your stomach drops and your throat starts to tighten. "You can tell me Bucky, anything" You struggle to keep your voice steady, holding your breath, waiting for his next words.

"It's just-I can't believe I kept this from you and it isn't fair to you at all, you know?" He runs his hand through is locks while keeping his blue eyes cast down. "It's been going on for about a year now..."

If you weren't already sitting down, you would've passed out. All the pervious anxieties you'd had in past relationships, all the deep insecurities and worries you had came pouring out at once, your deepest fears coming true.

Of course Bucky was seeing someone else.

Of course you weren't good enough.

Of course he cheated on you just like the last guy, why did you think you deserved someone to love you, obviously-

"I'm bat man!-baby? baby, what's wrong" Bucky went from giggling like a madman to feeling pure dread within a matter of seconds seeing your tear streaked face. His nervous act was no longer just an act, anxiety filling his chest seeing you so distraught. "Oh God, baby don't cry, I was joking, c'mere"

"W-what?" You sniffled, trying to swallow down a hiccup while Bucky scrambled to scoop you in his arms, wiping away your tears.

"I was just kidding around with you doll, I said I was bat man, I didn't mean to upset you babygirl" Bucky cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head while you slowly got your breathing under control again. Bucky truly thought you would've whacked him with a pillow or playfully shoved him off the bed, never in a million years did he think you'd take actually any of this seriously. You whimpered in his arms as he squeezed you tighter, continuing to give you soft, sweet kisses.

"Baby-do you-do you really think I'd ever cheat on you?" He spoke softly, keeping you cradled in a ball, close to his body. A part of him felt hurt that you felt that way, that he'd ever given you room to think he would do such a thing. He thought he was going to cry, the very thought of being with anyone else made his heart hurt.

"I thought you were seeing someone else" you whispered, old pains of coming in second resurfacing. "Maybe you found someone better-

"Never" Bucky moved to cup your cheeks firmly in his hands, making you look at him, "I would never. I love you so much angel, so much it fucking hurts. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I wouldn't even dream of someone else. I couldn't, I-fuck, you're everything to me" His own voice nearly cracked with emotion, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you. I love you like I've loved no one else, you have my heart sweet girl"

"Promise?" You toyed with his dogtags while he pressed his lips firms to yours, sealing every bit of his feelings with that kiss.

"I promise baby" He pulled you down to lay with your head resting on his chest, his hand gently playing with your hair, "So back to what I was confessing - Ow"

...

"I deserved that"

[cherryobx]

Turn up the music okay any fletcher song for rafe but these two together undrunk and bitter

Undrunk and Bitter

a/n: love both of these songs sm!

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: you and Rafe broke up but some feelings still linger

warnings: suggestive themes, language

wc: 1.4k

How long will it take for your feelings for someone to go away? How long does it take to stop loving someone? Even if that someone is so bad for you.

You and Rafe broke up almost a month ago and you feel like every day is worse than the last. At first it was easy. You cried, got all of your sadness and anger out of your body. But then arrived the longing and loneliness. 

You miss him. You miss waking up in the same bed, his arms around you. You miss going on dates with him. You miss him giving a ride on the back of his bike. The little things.

But the relationship between you ate you up inside. You loved him but also knew you deserved better. You deserved more. That’s why you broke up with him. It was probably the hardest decision of your life. Because where do you find the strength to let go of the person you love more than anyone else?

“I can’t watch you mope around anymore.” Your friend Grace sits at the edge of your bed where you’re currently lying, staring at the ceiling deep in thought.

“Top’s throwing a party tonight. We’re going.”

You know you don’t have the energy to go but you also don’t have the energy to argue with her. And that’s how you end up at Topper’s house a couple of hours later.

You know he’s here even though you haven’t spotted him yet. Rafe. You can feel it in your bones. 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you tell Grace who’s engaged in a conversation with Kelce about who knows what and she dismisses you with a wave. 

You sigh and try to find your way to the kitchen. Passing the living room, you see Rafe on the couch with a pretty girl on his lap. His eyes meet yours for a second before someone addresses him and he turns his attention to them.

Yeah, you definitely need a drink now.

How is it so easy for him to move on? It makes you wonder how much you really meant for him. How much the relationship and later the break up affected him. Did you really mean so little to him?

You finally find the kitchen. The counters are filled with various types of alcohol ranging from light stuff to hard liquor. You head for the latter. You down shot after shot and soon enough you feel your head start slowly spinning and your worries floating away. It feels nice. It helps you forget about him for a second.

“Rough night?”

You turn around and some guy is leaning against the counter, a red solo cup in his hand.

“You could say that.” You give him, what must be, a sad smile.

“What’s got you drinking like that?” he asks as he scoots closer and takes a sip of his drink.

“Life.”

“Fair enough.” He laughs. “I’m Trevor.”

“To you, Trevor.” You salute him and take another shot, grimacing at the taste of vodka in your mouth. He offers his drink as a chaser and you happily take it and down that too.

You introduce yourself to him and the conversation starts flowing. The alcohol keeps flowing too. Soon enough his hands are everywhere at once and you’re making out in the secluded hallway.

It feels nice. You feel wanted again. You haven’t felt that way in a while and crave it more than anything. There’s a little voice in the back of your head that keeps nagging at you that it’s wrong to use someone to get over Rafe. But it feels so good and you can’t help but want more.

“Y/n.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Rafe.

You break away from Trevor and see him approaching. His fists are balled and even the way he walks indicates that he’s angry.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he snarls.

“But-”

“Step the fuck back!” 

Trevor backs up with his hands raised in defeat.

“Walk away.” Rafe instructs him and he doesn’t argue. So much for that.

“Are you okay?” he asks almost softly, his hands on your upper arms on both sides of your body.

You shove him away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? You’re the one hooking up with strangers in the fucking hallway.”

“So? You can swap spit with girls all night but I can’t do the same?”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? We broke up, Rafe. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“You’re drunk. You’re not thinking clearly. Let me take you home.” He takes a step closer but you take one simultaneously back.

“Fuck you. I’m thinking more clearly than I have in a while. Why can you move on but I can’t?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not moving on anywhere with anyone.”

“You’re trying to tell me you didn’t fuck that pretty thing before you came here? Nice try. I need space from you, Rafe.”

“First of all, I haven’t fucked anyone since we broke up. Second, I’m taking you home.”

“Yeah right. I don’t believe you. She was all over you.”

“Like that guy was all over you?”

You shut your mouth. “That’s none of your business.”

“It is. You’re still my business whether you like it or not. Now, you can come with me willingly or I will physically drag you out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” You cross your arms on your chest and stand your ground, which in a literal sense is difficult because you’re too drunk for your own good.

“Stop being difficult.”

“No.”

He sighs before he makes a quick move of picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You’re like a sack of flour. Absolutely helpless and pathetic.

“Put me down!” You hit his back with your fists but that does nothing to help. He’s unaffected.

“I’m gonna throw up all over you,” you threaten. It’s actually a real possibility due to the fact that your head is furiously spinning and you can’t make your left from your right.

“I don’t care.”

People stare at him weird as he carries you through the house, while you’re kicking and screaming, to the driveway where his car is parked.

Very surprisingly to everyone around Rafe, he’s sober tonight. He didn’t plan on staying sober but when he saw you enter Topper’s yard through the living room window his heart made the decision for him.

He drops you in the passenger seat and buckles you up before walking to the driver’s side and hopping into the seat. In the few seconds he was outside the car you managed to unbuckle your seatbelt but he pulls it across your body again and locks the doors so you can’t escape. 

“I hate you,” you snarl at him and cross your arms once again, angling your body towards the car door on your side.

“Don’t care.” He backs out of the driveway and starts driving towards your house.

You rest your head against the cool window of the car and stare at the passing scenery. 

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

“What?” He looks at you for a second before turning his gaze back towards the road ahead of him.

“Why do you care?”

“About what?”

“About me. We broke up and here you are, taking me home after cockblocking me.”

He scoffs. “I can’t stop caring about you overnight, Y/N. That’s not how it works. And even if I wanted to I couldn’t.”

“You looked like you could. Plenty of girls throwing themselves at you. Take your pick.”

“I don’t want any of them.”

The rest of the ride passes in silence. He helps you out of the car, into your house and to your bedroom. He even tucks you under the covers. 

“Why don’t you want other girls? You can, you know.” 

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead which makes you instantly close your eyes for a moment of bliss. For a second, you’re thrown back in time when you were together and he used to kiss you goodnight every single night, even if it meant driving over from his place to yours to do so.

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to love me again.”

You open your mouth but no words come out.

“If you remember this in the morning, text me. We’ll talk.” With that he stands up, turns off the lights and leaves, softly closing the door after him.