#making a family with the one you love most in the world

[mssb9996]

🚨 We Need Your Kindness to Survive 🚨

Hello, My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I live in Gaza with my family. Life here has become harder than I ever imagined, and I’m writing this with hope in my heart that you might hear our story.

The ongoing war has devastated my family. We’ve lost 25 family members—each one a beloved part of our lives, taken too soon. I miss them deeply—their laughter, their presence, their love. Every day is a reminder of this unimaginable loss.

We are now facing daily challenges to survive—things that most people take for granted, like food, clean water, and a safe place to sleep. The harsh realities of life here have replaced our dreams with the constant fight for survival.

Our Current Situation:

💔 Lost Stability: The war has left us without work or a stable source of income. 🍞 Basic Needs: Food and water are becoming harder to afford with rising prices and scarce resources. 📚 Dreams on Hold: Like so many here, my family’s dreams have been replaced by the need to simply survive. 😢 Unimaginable Loss: Losing 25 loved ones has left a void that can never be filled.

How You Can Help:

I’m sharing our story with the hope that someone out there might care. Even $5 can make a big difference for us, and if you’re unable to donate, just reblogging this post can help spread the word.

Your kindness, no matter how small, is something we’ll never forget.

What This Means to Us:

Your support is not about changing our entire situation—it’s about giving us a little relief, a little hope, and a way to keep going. We are not asking for much, and we understand if you can’t donate. Sharing our story is just as valuable to us as a donation.

Thank you for reading this far. It means the world to us to know that someone is listening. Your kindness gives us strength and helps us believe in a better tomorrow.

With all our gratitude, Mosab Elderawi and Family ❤️

✅️ Vetted by ✅️

@gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #309 )✅️

[reignpage]

The Other Woman

Pt 1

The doctors and psychologists said it’d be great for your husband’s well-being to be with friends and family. And for the most part, that’s proven true. 

Insisting on welcoming Satoru back properly, his students organised a party and invited anyone who had a remote connection with their teacher. Even Nanami had taken time off from work to be here and had given a polite pat on his shoulder and a genuine greeting. 

That brought a huge smile to the white-haired man who pounced on the poor guy without remorse, giggling about how he knew he ‘always liked him really’. It felt great to watch him be surrounded by and showered with so much love and support, the kind he deserves; you could tell it was bringing life back to him. After all, it must have been painful for him to have been cooped up in the house trying to reconcile his new reality with the one he remembers. 

You keep reminding yourself of that. 

Satoru needs this. 

He needs normalcy. The normal he remembers, the normal he went to sleep thinking about and not the one he had suddenly woken up to, years passing him by. 

Everyone knows this. He knows this. Just as you do. 

So why is every person in the party sneaking you pitying and concerned glances?

Sure, no one could possibly think this is easy for you, to be the stranger that Satoru still gets surprised to see in the morning. The one he hesitates to say goodnight to, unsure of the boundaries, the etiquette, the right thing to do. He sometimes forgets to text you if he’s going out, shocked and annoyed, you’re sure, to see the many missed calls and messages from you. And you know he studies the picture frames all over your house like a textbook that would give him all the answer he needs.

All he gets, you’re willing to bet, is the realisation that you’re both the tether he needs to keep grounded, that guides him through the sea of memories he cannot touch, and the leash that binds him to a role he doesn’t remember signing up for. 

Are they looking at you with worry because of the inevitable toll this sudden shift has taken on your mental health or because your husband is talking to his ex-girlfriend the way he used to talk to you?

It can’t be the latter, right?

Because there’s nothing to be worried about. 

Satoru is simply catching up, trying to stitch up the crater-sized hole in his memory with a familiar face. There’s no reason for your hand to shake as you sip your drink or for your eyes to keep darting back over to them, sat alone at a table like they’re the only people in here. 

He’s laughing, throwing his head back and making that obnoxious cackle you love to hear. Loved. Because this one isn’t for you. It’s for her. The woman he shouldn’t be near, the woman he shouldn’t even think about, shouldn’t let touch his arm. 

You’re the wife. 

You’ve got the ring to prove it. 

He’s wearing it. Just not on the hand attached to the arm strung over the back of her chair like he’s protecting her from the rest of the world. Hell, maybe he is. Maybe his infinity is on and covering her. But you don’t have it in you to throw something at them to find out. Either result would be just as humiliating as the other. 

There’s nothing to be done. 

You can’t interrupt. 

Because Satoru needs to know what he said goodbye to all those years ago to know what he says ‘hey, pretty lady’ and ‘good morning, gorgeous’ to now. Or used to say. Now, you’re lucky if he even looks at you without shuffling his feet. 

Eventually, the night draws to its natural end. 

People bid their farewells twice, once to him and her, and then to you. Each time breaks your heart even more until you feel it crumble inside, little shards falling to pieces he won’t pick up. She stands before you, a small, shy smile, like she knows what she’s done. And says it’s ‘lovely to meet you’, and of course you can’t say it back. 

Not when you had been introduced by your name, ‘my beautiful wife’ going nowhere near the tip of his tongue as if those words had never been uttered by your husband. And not when she had been introduced in a hastily withdrawn, stuttered freudian slip of hell. 

“This is my girlfr— Sorry, I mean, my friend. From high school. Yeah, high school.”

Satoru blushes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he waves goodbye to her. And you can tell he finds the act lacklustre, an uninspired, unnatural way to say goodbye to the woman you woke up to and slept beside. 

“Did you have a good time?”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lip as he casts his gaze across the room, sweeping by the empty hall like he can still see every single person that came. “It was nice to see everyone and catch up.”

You’re thankful he doesn’t ask if you enjoyed the evening because you can’t lie to him but you also can’t tell the truth, can’t burden him anymore with the reminder that he doesn’t fill the shoes of your husband, that he continues to stumble with every step, dragging you down with him. 

So, instead, you fill the silence with a question that is so harmless, so normal it slips out before you can even think to anticipate the devastating crack that goes through your very soul. 

“Ready to go home?”

Satoru nods.

But he’s looking at a seat in the back. 

A seat that’s probably still warm. A seat you could never fill because you aren’t the woman he thought, hoped, he would marry. 

You’re just the woman he did. 

[pizzaiolx-pazzx]

I have two wolves inside me:

One feels the need to say that writing was, until around 100 years ago a privilege of the elite and, for even longer, a tool for governments and various people/authorities to keep track of things and spread/maintain knowledge and as such it was developed with efficiency in mind more than "art" or beauty (also cursive is actually faster than print for anyone with a little practice in it: it was developed mostly because it was faster and more efficient because you didn't need to lift the pen for every letter and that makes a huge difference, especially when you're not using a ballpoint but are using a dip pen) so let's try not to romanticize too much writing in cursive or at least let's keep in mind what writing was for most of our history (with "our" I'm talking about the western world, I don't know much about it but I know even less about the history of writing in other cultural contexts. We are talking about cursive so I don't feel too bad for this generalization)

The other wolf is HOWLING and SCREAMING in pain because I actually love writing in cursive I love talking about how and why I do my letters in a certain way and not in another I love being able to read what my great grandfather wrote to his family 100 years ago, I love writing love notes for my gf and friends and I love receinvg them. I love fountain pens and how they don't tire my wrist I love all the inks I can use I love paper and writing things down, forgetting them and finding them years later instead of losing them when I inevitably change my phone. I love how personal handwriting is and how it feels to recognize someone's handwriting at sight and immediately know if that person was sad or in haste or angry or calm when they wrote and I cannot go gentle into the dying art and practice of handwriting things.

On one hand I understand not teaching cursive in school anymore, because it actually is slower than regular handwriting and almost everything is typed on a keyboard now anyways.

On the other hand, so much of our (even recent!) history was written in cursive, and having a whole generation of kids who can't read letters written by their grandparents, momentos saved by their great-grandparents, or even photo albums from theur immediate family seems like a dangerously quick way to detach us from previous generations.

And on the third, related but slightly malformed hand, I feel bad that yet another form of small, everyday art that brings joy in the middle of mundane tasks, which celebrates personality and individual style and self-expression, is about to fade into obscurity because it wasn't efficient enough for today's world to put up with.

Like... if we continue to whittle away the small arts out of every day life, what's going to be left except stark, ruthless pragmatism?

Maybe writing a grocery list is less mundane when you get to feel elegant for a moment. Maybe you're a little more proud of what you write when you see it flow together like a painting

[astrow1zar6]

Sun + Moon Hot takes- part 3

Sag sun Aries moon: this combo seems loud asf lol. No seriously though you definitely are one of the loudest people in the room normally. This gives big class clown energy. This gives those kids in class that always did the most to make everyone laugh and sometimes it’d work well but other times it can be obnoxious. Also if not balanced with any earth placements I can see these people being extremely impulsive and immature you tend to jump into things fast and get burned along the lines. But because of your impulsive nature you have a lot of fun stories to tell others and also tend to have a lot more fun than most in general because of how spontaneous you are. This is a combo that is always doing something wild. Usually big extroverts that love meeting new people and seeing new places. Doesn’t like to be in one place too long. Lives life in the fast lane. They usually live life in a very rockstar kinda way (drugs, sex, rock and roll) vibe. Which is something I admire a lot on how they make life look so fun. Usually go by the motto “I’d rather die young than live a long boring life”.

Libra Sun Virgo moon: giving princess energy. I can imagine these people to be very feminine (even the men). These are probably the most well kept people when it comes to hygiene. They usually always look put together and are normally really pretty people. This puts a more introverted twist to the regular social lite Libra sun energy. Usually big perfectionists and can get anxiety when they don’t look their best or are giving the best impressions on others. These people’s anxiety can be CRIPPLING. Your anxiety is your Achilles heel. You tend to worry about anything & everything. Your anxiousness can make you come off as almost “too perfect “ to others. You may come off as the type of person that people get shocked that you fart kinda thing lol. Although you prefer to come off this way it’s okay to be imperfect sometimes. You should learn to find more humor in flaws instead of taking them like it’s the end of the world. People will still like you even if you aren’t perfect 🫶🏽

Aquarius sun Leo moon: this combo is so cool to me. The people I’ve met with this combo are one of the funniest people ever. I’m usually not a fan of Leo moons but with an Aquarius sun I feel it balances the melodramatic attitude of Leo making them more cool like. They are really creative and usually can make a lot of $$ with anything social media related (highly recommended to get into YouTube, tik tok, podcasts) these people are so entertaining so normally they can get a big following. However many can have a difficult time forming relationships because they are very demanding and distant at times. Probably the most authentic person you’ve ever met. Their authenticity and rebellious streak is usually their golden ticket into getting such big followings and being so popular. These people are the definition of “idgaf” it’s so admirable.

Leo sun Capricorn moon: probably one of the most serious Leo combinations. I notice this combo is more anxious to shine than normal Leo suns. These people can surprisingly get embarrassed pretty easily. DO NOT clown these people or pick on them jokingly they will really crash out lmao. They hate when their character is diminished in any type of way. This gives big CEO energy, these people were the bosses of their family and friend groups. When they are immature this energy can cause a lot of issues in their relationships because of how bossy they can be. They can get carried away with controlling what people do and how they act which can be overwhelming for others. Allow others to be themselves you don’t have to control everything I know you like things to be a certain way but the world doesn’t go when you go. These people usually make really good managers and bosses. Are able to control any organization or business they have flawlessly with little effort.

Gemini sun Leo moon: I apologize in advance to anyone with this combo but this gives ANNOYING😭 I can tell these were those bad ass kids growing up with the silver caps in their mouths (iykyk 🤣). Theres a very child like energy to this combo that can either come off as very sweet and refreshing or these people are little devils lmao. This gives Micheal Scott energy from the office. I can see these people being so fun in non serious activities such as partying and drinking and karaoke night but things like working with them can be like babysitting. This is probably the employee that pisses you off all the time but is lit asf to bring out to do fun stuff. I can imagine these people to be really good humored as well, could’ve also been a class clown or hung around a popular crowd. Usually is pretty loud about their opinions and can have a very dramatic flair with the way they talk. Usually are very animated which can be very entertaining to those around them. This people can make great entertainers and talk show hosts. Are AMAZING story tellers even if you can tell if some of what they say is exaggerated it’s still so interesting to hear.

Pisces sun Sag moon: this is a very interesting combo, both Jupiter ruled but with such opposite energies. This gives a light heartedness to the normally deep spiritual neptunian. These people also have a crazy good intuition. This can make some pretty intelligent people (Albert Einstein has this combo) their mind tends to be very theoretical, spiritual and philosophical. However with all this mutable energy it can be hard for them to organize their thoughts properly you have a tendency to drift from reality when things get too much. Definitely a big picture person over details, too much details can stress you out a lot. If you learn how to implement all your fresh ideas you can earn a lot of $$ in your lifetime ! I’ve also seen it can be very difficult for these people to process their emotions. Neptune has a tendency of blurring emotions along with the sags tendency to avoid them it can cause them to act irrationally at times. When their feelings aren’t in check they can completely fuck themselves over with little consciousness of them doing it. When under pressure they can be really impulsive and naive. Can have a very out of the box sense of humor as well.

Taurus sun Scorpio Moon: talk about stubborn. No seriously it’ll take the hands of god himself to make these people move or change ways. They don’t budge until they want to (which usually takes awhile or never happens) they usually take a really long time to trust someone but once they do you’re theirs for life. They can be really possessive of the people they love and can struggle with jealousy if their person is close to others (even family at times if they are really insecure). They tend to come off as very chill and laid back but they’re usually hiding a strong intensity behind that down to earth personality. They have a tendency of suffocating those around them because of their fear of abandonment. I see people with this combo have a big thing with abandonment. They tend to fall for people that feel like home and allow them to be comfortable being themselves (cuz they struggle with this normally). Overall though very loyal and sensual people they will go to the moon and back for you if they love you.

Pisces sun Aquarius moon: these people are the real life ETs of the zodiac sun moon combos. Really though they vibe at such a different wavelength than the rest of the world. One word use to describe these people are “Woke”. Its was estimated that Jesus Christ actually had this sun/moon combination. (Surprise for all the people that thought Jesus was born in December). They have this deep inner desire usually to help humanity in some way, usually by using spiritual means. These people can excel in pursuits like reiki healing, crystal work, yoga/meditation instructor, music therapist, priest ect. Works good with healing the subconscious of others. Growing up however they could’ve been outcasted a lot for being “weird” or “off putting”. This rejection allowed them to grow such a strong wisdom when it comes to human nature. When they grow to be confident in their unique natures they are really able to heal themselves and those around them.

Pisces sun Pisces moon: one word DELUSIONAL😭 these people are never really in the now they are elsewhere in their minds floating off you can just see it in their face lol. This isn’t the most ambitious of combos and can usually sabotage a lot of good career opportunities by procrastinating and escaping their responsibilities. If not balanced with any earth placements you should learn techniques on grounding! If not you can neglect a lot of your responsibilities. Breath work practice and meditation usually help these people (anything spiritual really). Because of their imaginative tendencies they can be amazing artists and musicians (they especially love music). Big romantics at heart and is main goal in life is to find their soulmate, can sabotage their goals for love a lot. Usually ends up attracting toxic people sadly but this is usually a muse for their art.

i apologize for taking so long to make a part three. I did not forget your requests 🫶🏽♥️

[greengoblinswifey]

Betrayed By Blood—Nicholas Chavez x Fiancée!Reader

summary— you think you’re getting married to the love of your life but it all comes crashing down when you discover at your engagement party that nicholas has been cheating on you with your older sister. based on this request.

warnings— angst, cheating, heartbreak, betrayal.

a/n— i am such a slut for angst, keep it comin!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

You had always been the kind of person who believed in love wholeheartedly. When Nicholas entered your life three years ago, you couldn’t believe your luck. He was everything you’d ever wanted, kind, successful acting career, charming, and so ridiculously in love with you that it almost felt unreal. You were the envy of your friends, your family—hell, even your own self at times. He made you feel like you could do anything, be anyone. He was your best friend, your lover, your everything.

But what made it even more special was how seamlessly he fit into your world. The way he would light up when your family talked about their traditions, his willingness to learn about your culture, how your older sister, despite the years of distance between you two—had begun to bond with him. It was all so perfect. Nicholas had even made a point of getting close to your older sister, knowing how much she meant to you, even if it made you feel a twinge of discomfort sometimes. You were still getting used to the closeness between them, but it didn’t bother you much. She was just looking out for you, making sure the man you were about to marry was really the one.

Your sister was always a bit more distant from you. You’d never had the kind of bond that some people shared with their siblings—she was a few years older, more independent, and you’d always felt that divide. But when Nicholas came into the picture, something shifted. She started coming around more. She started asking about your relationship, checking in on how things were going. You even started enjoying the time she spent with him, seeing how happy he made you. Nicholas always appreciated your family and their cultural traditions, always joking around with your uncles about how they would “teach him the ropes” on making your culture’s food. They’d all gathered around him, with your uncles and cousins giving him their best cooking tips, even asking him to come to every cookout. It made you laugh how easily he fit in. It was exactly what you had always dreamed of—a man who loved you and respected your family’s values.

The engagement had come a little earlier than expected, but when he proposed to you, you couldn’t say no. You had been telling Nicholas for months that you didn’t want to wait forever. You wanted a future, you wanted a family, and most importantly, you wanted him. He had been apprehensive at first about rushing into things, but soon, he was on board. Your family was thrilled, your uncles teased him, and your mom cried with joy. Your sister, though not exactly the most emotionally expressive person, seemed genuinely happy for you both.

The engagement party was the culmination of everything, a massive celebration of your love. It was your moment, your chance to show everyone what Nicholas meant to you. And you couldn’t wait.

The night started off perfectly. Nicholas, looking dashing in his black suit, was by your side, his hand in yours as you made your rounds. Your sister, radiant as always, stood nearby, laughing with your family, as everyone celebrated the two of you. You danced with Nicholas, his lips brushing your neck as he whispered sweet things into your ear. You felt safe in his arms, protected. His smile was everything, and in that moment, you truly believed your life was everything you had ever wanted.

Your uncles, rowdy as usual, crowded around Nicholas, teasing him about being a part of their “cookout crew” now. They joked about his need to learn how to make your cultural dishes, like he’d be joining them for the next family cookout. You loved it. It felt like the piece of the puzzle you’d been waiting for your whole life, a family who accepted him, and him, genuinely embracing them.

But then, as the night progressed, you began to notice things. Little things. The way your sister kept laughing a little too loudly at Nicholas’ jokes. The way her hand lingered on his chest a bit too long when she made a joke, just a touch too intimate for your liking. You tried to shake it off, blaming it on the alcohol, on the festive mood. Your sister had always been affectionate with the people she liked, but something about the way she looked at him made your stomach turn.

It wasn’t even the physical closeness. It was the way she looked at him, like she was seeing him in a way you hadn’t seen before. You shrugged it off at first. He was your fiancé, after all. You shouldn’t be feeling jealous. She was your sister, and you wanted her to like him, to approve of him. This was nothing. Just a moment of insecurity.

But when Nicholas disappeared to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Half an hour had passed, and he still hadn’t come back. Your sister had gone missing too. They were both nowhere to be found, and a quiet alarm began to ring in the back of your mind.

You finally decided to check on them. You climbed the stairs, heels clicking against the floor. The music from downstairs muffled everything around you, and as you walked down the hallway, your heart beat faster with every step.

You remembered he’d said he was going to the bathroom. The upstairs bathroom door was slightly ajar, a thin line of light spilling out. You pushed the door open and peeked inside.

What you saw made your blood run cold.

Nicholas, your fiancé, was kissing your older sister with a passion that made your stomach drop. His hands were tangled in her curls, gripping it as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Her hands were all over his chest, moving to grip his bulge, and the way they kissed each other was everything you hadn’t seen from him in your three years together. There was nothing tender about it, nothing sweet. Just raw, ferocious hunger. He had her pressed against the counter, and they were so caught up in each other that they didn’t even hear you.

You froze, every ounce of warmth drained from your body. You couldn’t breathe. Your mind refused to accept what your eyes were seeing.

And then, your sister’s voice, breathless, echoed in the room.

“Take me right here,” she purred.

Nicholas smirked against her lips. “Later tonight,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “Tonight, I’ll give you this dick and everything you want.”

Your sister laughed, a sound you would never forget. “She’s so stupid,” she said, hands trailing down his chest. “Thinking you actually chose her.”

And Nicholas, your fiancé, laughed. He laughed.

The sound was like a knife to your heart.

You couldn’t watch anymore. You turned and stumbled away from the door, the world around you spinning. Your legs felt weak, your heart pounding in your ears. You had to get away. You had to get out of there.

You made your way back down the stairs, your brown skin feeling somehow drained of color, your chest tight with the weight of everything crashing down.

You sat on the couch, numb, staring into the distance as the laughter and chatter of the party continued around you. Everyone was so oblivious. How could they be so blind?

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at the empty glass in your hand, feeling the bile of betrayal and heartbreak rise in your throat. But the truth was clear now. The person you had trusted most in this world, the man you thought would be yours forever, had betrayed you. And your sister, the one person who was supposed to have your back, had been the one to help him destroy everything.

Everything was fucking over.

The world felt like it was closing in on you. You stood in the corner of your sister's yard, away from the noise and the chaos of the party, trying to breathe in the cool night air, but it didn’t help. It was all too much. Your thoughts raced as your mom, drunk on Hennessy, slipped out the door to check on you.

“Are you okay, baby? You don’t look so good,” she slurred, her words barely hanging together.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. Just a little too much to drink,” you said quickly, offering her a smile, though it felt like your face was frozen. You didn’t want her to see the turmoil churning inside you. You didn’t want anyone to see the cracks in the perfect picture you had spent so long trying to paint.

She frowned slightly, swaying on her feet as she stared at you with unsteady eyes. “You sure? You seem so off. Maybe lay off the Henny, huh?”

You laughed weakly, swallowing the bitter taste of your own anger. “Yeah, Mom, I’m good but maybe you should too, Just need some air. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

She nodded, barely convincing herself, before she staggered back inside. You could still hear her slurring through the door. “You’ve got such a good man, don’t forget that,” she called over her shoulder, her voice drifting on the warm night breeze.

“I know, I thought so too,” you said under your breath.

But now, everything had shattered. You stood in the cold, looking out at the darkened street, your thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt. Maybe she’s right, you thought. Maybe I was stupid. So stupid for not seeing it earlier.

The signs had always been there, hadn’t they? The way Nicholas and your sister would hang out without you, their bodies too close, the long hugs that lasted a bit too long. The way his hands would graze her shoulder or her back, like it was something casual—like it didn’t mean anything. But you had been so blinded by wanting to prove to yourself, to your family, that Nicholas was the one. That he loved you. And that your sister, the one person who you thought would always have your back, would approve.

You had wanted her approval so badly.

The signs were obvious, though. The way he would always find a reason to make her laugh, to make her feel special. He’d tell her jokes only she seemed to find funny, or the way he’d always help her with things around the house when he was at your family gatherings. The way he would stare at her ass when she’d walk away from the table, thinking you didn’t see it. The small, subtle touches, how he always found a reason to touch her arm or her back. It had been happening all along, and yet, you had made excuses. They’re just close, they’re family.

But it wasn’t just that. It was the way they’d look at each other. It was the way they had always made quick excuses to disappear for a few moments, always sneaking off together, but you had never thought much of it. Just friends, you had told yourself. But now, standing in the dark, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

They had been sneaking around behind your back for so long, and you had been too blind to see it. How could you have been so stupid?

You suddenly felt dizzy, as if the weight of it all had just crashed down on you all at once. You knew you couldn’t stay out there much longer. You had to get away, had to leave. You couldn’t stand to see their faces, couldn’t stand to pretend that everything was okay.

Before you could even collect your thoughts, you felt a presence behind you.

“What are you doing out here, mama?” Nicholas’ voice cut through the silence. It was warm, too warm, and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t turn to face him. You didn’t want to.

“I just needed some air,” you lied, trying to sound casual. You didn’t trust your voice. “The alcohol’s got me feeling all weird.”

He stepped closer, as if concerned, his hand coming up to touch your arm. “Well, let’s get you back inside. What’s wrong?”

You winced, flinching instinctively as he tried to kiss your cheek. You jerked away from him. “I’m not feeling too great, honestly,” you muttered, your voice breaking just enough to make him pause.

Nicholas laughed lightly. “It’s just the booze, babe. You know how it gets you all—worked up. Hope you’re not getting cold feet now,” he added, his tone teasing, but his eyes scanning your face too closely. “You know I love you, right?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You fought the urge to lash out, to scream at him, a bitter laugh. You love me? Sure, you do.

You managed a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you nodded, playing the part. “I know, Nicholas. I know,” you said through gritted teeth.

You’re full of shit.

You both made your way back inside, where the party was still in full swing. Your mom was laughing with your uncles, and your sister, who seemed to have too much to drink. She was swaying a little too much, her lipstick smudged, her hair a little messier than usual.

You couldn’t help but stare at her. How could she? How could she betray you like this? The woman who had held you as a baby, the woman who was supposed to protect you, be your big sister—your own flesh and blood.

She walked up to you with that sickly sweet smile, her hand on your arm, as if nothing was wrong. “You guys should stay over tonight. You're both too drunk to drive,” she said, her voice syrupy, but you could hear the underlying smugness.

You forced a smile, but it was more of a sneer. You didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to be in the same room. “Thanks, but I think we’re going to head out,” you said, your voice cold and distant.

“Are you sure? Also, you look beautiful tonight,” she said, a little too loud, her eyes flicking to Nicholas. “You’re so lucky to have him.” She smiled at him, that smile that made you want to throw up.

You could barely stand it. “Yeah, I’m lucky,” you muttered. “But we should get going.”

Your sister didn’t argue. Instead, she waved it off, telling Nicholas that he should clean up with her, but you cut her off sharply. “No, she said she’d clean up, so Nicholas just come to bed since she wants us to stay so bad,” you said to him, your voice firm. He didn’t question it, but you could see the brief flash of surprise in his eyes.

They both paused. Shocked that you’re not letting them play their little game anymore.

He nodded reluctantly, muttering something under his breath, and followed you upstairs.

Once in the room, you started to get ready for bed. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, telling you how much he loved your family and how he couldn’t wait to be a part of it all. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was already part of it—in the worst way possible.

As you climbed into bed, you turned to face away from him, feeling the warmth of his body beside you, knowing how wrong it all was. He pressed kisses along your back, but you flinched with every touch, every word he whispered. You knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to lull you to sleep so he could slip away.

You pretended to fall asleep, lying still as he shifted beside you. He waited a few minutes before slowly nudging you off of him, making sure you were still “asleep” before getting out of bed. You kept your eyes closed, though your heart was pounding in your chest. You heard the sound of him leaving the room.

The tears started to come then. One single tear fell from your eye, and that was it. He was really going to do it. He was going to go fuck your sister, and you knew it wasn’t the first time.

The tears didn’t stop as you cried yourself to sleep. You didn’t know when he came back to bed, but by then, you didn’t care.

The next morning, the air was thick with tension. Nicholas, ever the actor, was trying to act like nothing was wrong, all smiles and charm, but you couldn’t look at him. Not after everything.

“You okay?” he asked, trying to make conversation on the car ride home. His hand rested on your thigh, cold, stiff. Not warm like it used to be.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, trying to keep yourself together.

When you got home, you walked straight to the bedroom without a word. He followed behind, still trying to act normal, trying to act like he hadn’t just betrayed you in the worst way possible.

You turned to him, your voice hard, cold. “How long?”

He looked at you, confused. “How long what?”

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” you spat. His face went white.

He started rambling, trying to justify it, trying to come up with excuses, but you stopped him cold. You looked him dead in the eyes, your voice low but sharp enough to pierce through his fumbling excuses. “Cut the bullshit, Nicholas. How long have you been fucking my sister?”

His face drained of color, and for a split second, you saw panic flicker in his eyes. But then he straightened up, his mouth opening and closing, struggling to form words. He tried to spin some story, but it was all nonsense, just meaningless rambling that you couldn’t stomach.

“I— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, baby, I—”

You cut him off, disgust twisting your insides. “Fuck you. You’re not sorry. You’re only sorry you got caught.”

His face fell. He opened his mouth again, but you weren’t listening anymore. You pulled the ring from your finger and tossed it at him with all the force you could muster. The diamond caught the light before it clattered to the floor, a symbol of everything that had ended between the two of you.

“Don’t. Don’t even try to fix this,” you spat, your voice cold, firm. “I’m done. Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see your face again.”

He took a step back, his eyes wide with panic, a mix of guilt and anger on his face. He pleaded with you, but you didn’t hear him. You didn’t want to hear him. You could barely look at him.

“I can’t believe you did this,” you whispered, the betrayal so thick in your chest it was suffocating. “I trusted you. And I trusted her.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I never want to see either of you again.”

Nicholas looked like he was going to say something more, but he didn’t. His face was a mess of guilt, frustration, and desperation as he turned on his heel, heading for the door.

When the door slammed behind him, it felt like the last thing holding you together had fallen apart. The silence that followed felt deafening, and as soon as you heard the sound of his car pull away from the driveway, the floodgates opened.

You had never felt so broken in your life.

You didn’t wait for long before pulling out your phone and dialing your sister’s number. It rang a few times before she picked up, her voice so sweet, like everything was fine. Like nothing had changed.

“Hey sis! What’s up?” she said, her tone light.

You didn't waste time with pleasantries. “Fuck you bitch,” you snapped, your voice filled with venom. “Two-faced whore. I never want to see you again.”

There was silence on the other end. You could almost hear her gasp, her breath catching as she processed the words. But you didn’t give her a chance to respond.

“Stay the hell out of my life. I never want to hear from you again. Ever,” you added, your voice colder than ice.

You didn’t even wait for her to respond before you hung up. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear her lies. The texts and calls came flooding in immediately, frantic apologies, explanations that you knew were all just bullshit. You didn’t care.

You blocked her number without a second thought.

The betrayal was suffocating, and you couldn’t stop shaking. You wanted to scream. You wanted to burn it all down. But instead, you curled into yourself on the bed, every part of you hollow. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry at first. The tears wouldn’t come, not until the numbness wore off, and then they came in a flood, unstoppable, overwhelming.

Your heart felt like it was ripped in two. Betrayed. By the man who had promised to love you forever. By the sister who had held you when you were small, the one person who had always been your protector. Now she was just another person who had turned her back on you.

You lay there, letting the tears fall until there were no more to shed. And when it was over, there was nothing left but silence and a cold, gnawing emptiness.

The next few days passed in a haze. You didn’t leave your room, didn’t talk to anyone. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t.

When you finally found the strength to move, to get out of bed and go through the motions, everything felt like a shadow of what it used to be. Your heart was still broken, but the anger was sharper now. You were angry at them both. Angry at yourself for not seeing it sooner. Angry at your family for not being who you thought they were.

But most of all, you were angry because you knew deep down that you would never trust anyone the same way again. How could you?

The world felt different now—like it had shifted, and you were no longer sure where you stood.

But in that anger, there was clarity. You were done with Nicholas. You were done with her. You didn’t need them. You would be okay. Maybe not right now, maybe not in the next few months, but eventually, you would find peace.

And you’d never let anyone—anyone, take that away from you again.

The betrayal was deep, but so was your strength.

You weren’t going to let them destroy you.

[httpiastri]

drivers as the type of boyfriends to…

f1 masterlist || f2/f3 masterlist || blurb masterlist

a/n: to celebrate f2 race week <333 guys we made it! we survived 284947 weeks without f2!!! hope you enjoy 💓

…wash your hair for you

you're either tired from a bunch of long days at work, or you've been sick for a while now, and you just cannot find the energy to properly wash your hair. don't you worry – your perfect boyfriend is here to save the day! telling you to just sit back against the tub, lean your head against the edge and relax, and he'll do the rest. you still have to instruct him about which products to use, but he listens carefully and makes sure to do everything exactly as you say. except for the fact that he adds some extra scalp massages, since he's very aware of how much you love it when he plays with your hair.

paul aron, marcus armstrong, clement novalak

…help you with your makeup and skincare after a night out

it's been a long night at some motorsports gala, and although he had a lovely time and loves these kinds of events, there's nothing he'd rather do than just jump into bed and cuddle his dearest. especially when you clearly feel the same way, having fallen asleep on his shoulder in the taxi on the way to his apartment. but after carrying you inside and placing you down gently on the bed, he realizes – you've still got your makeup on. he knows how important it is for you to be careful about your skincare, how much you complain about breakouts and such if you don't remove your makeup before bed, so he knows he has to help you. he knows how to use the makeup wipes, and he rubs your skin so gently as to not wake you up, but for the rest of the products… he kind of has to freestyle. some cleansing toner, some kind of serum; he really tries to rack his brain to remember everything you've told him – but he's a little too drunk to do it perfectly. however, it's the thought and effort that matters.

pepe marti, jak crawford, arthur leclerc, alex albon

…learn every little detail about you

he may seem carefree or like he's too chill to care, but in reality, there's no one as attentive as him. he knows precisely what you need for every day of your period; when you need a heating pad, when you need chocolate and ice cream, when you need extra cuddles and caring, when you need the chores taken care of, etc. he knows how you want to be treated after a long day at work/school, he knows your schedule inside and out, and he knows what you want for your birthday or christmas way before you realize it yourself (he figures it out because he knows you so well). he knows your twenty coffee orders – the morning coffee, the pre-work order, the friday special, and so on – and he knows how happy it makes you when he orders coffee for you in surprise, so he never forgets to do just that. he knows how to soothe your worries, ease your anxiety, calm you down. and he knows exactly how to make you the happiest you've ever been – and that's his goal for every day he spends on this planet.

oscar piastri, jack doohan, dennis hauger

…fall so easily for your jokes and pranks (only because he cares so much about you)

this boy is the most gullible person ever; he falls for everything you try to pull on him. try to joke that you're upset that he spends a lot of time with a female coworker? he won't leave your side for the next week, always holding you close and pressing kisses to your cheek whenever she's around so you know who it is he loves. pretend like you're sick so he'll cancel his plans with his friends? he will stay home, cook you his mom's special soup, buy you all of the sweets in the world, and then stick by your side for the rest of the night. pretend like you forgot his birthday and ignore him on it so you can throw him a surprise party with all of his friends and family? he gets heartbroken, thinks he's done something terrible and just wants to make up with you (and forgets about his own birthday, just wanting to reconcile with you). he will do anything you trick him into, and will react like everything is a huge deal, just because he loves you too much (and thinks you would never lie to him – "they love me too much to trick me", he assumes).

lando norris, franco colapinto, luke browning

…learn everything about your hair so he can help out

no matter your hair type, he's learning everything there is to know about it. if it's naturally straight, he learns how to make heatless curls so you don't have to hurt your neck doing them on yourself. if it's more wavy, he knows how to bring out the natural waves in them and how to make it look extra good – or tone down the waves if that's what you want. and if it's curly, he knows just what products you should use and when, and he doesn't mind even the slightest when you ask him to help out. he learns to brain your hair, dye it, style it; you often find him watching youtube tutorials on how to do certain things, or he comes out of nowhere to give you tips on things he just happened to read online. all just to make you feel comfortable and bring a little weight off your shoulders, because he understands how exhausting it can be for you to have to tend to your hair every single day.

jak crawford, ollie bearman, liam lawson

...encourage all your passions and obsessions

every one of your obscure hobbies and hyperfixations, he too automatically loves too. doesn't matter if it's about collecting vinyl records, crocheting little animals, cosplaying – he's all in. he helps you look for supplies, listens when you ramble, and just helps out in any way he can (or you'll let him). it gets to a point where he too gets really interested in it, no matter what it's about. when he sees a certain thing connected to your passion at the paddock or when out with friends, he instantly stops and gets so happy – before he realizes that it's your obsession, not his. he can't help but to squeal a little on the inside nonetheless.

franco colapinto, marcus armstrong

...be the best listener ever

this guy loves to listen – especially if you're the one who's talking. it doesn't matter what time it is, how tired he is, or what it's about; he's all ears. if you're upset, whether a frustrating situation at work/school, a deep existential crisis or a nonsensical tangent about a fictional character, he will be there to listen. he sits next to you on the couch, makes you some tea, cuddles up real close under a blanket and listens with genuine interest. not only is he a great listener, but he also gives real good advice if that's what you need. but if you just need to vent, he's the perfect place, too.

pepe marti, oscar piastri

…dance with you in the living room for no reason at all

he may not be much of a dancer, but when a song he loves (or he knows you love) comes on, he grabs your hand without a second thought. it doesn't matter if he's clumsy, if he can't find the rhythm or if you were both busy with something prior to this – his only goal is to make you laugh and feel loved. goofy routines to some up-tempo pop hit, or a slow sway to a romantic ballad; the living room floor is your very own dance floor. and even if you don't particularly enjoy dancing by yourself, you will learn to love it with him, since every spin and twirl is a way for him to communicate just how much he adores you.

clement novalak, daniel ricciardo, charles leclerc

...turn everything into a competition

brushing your teeth? he will need to find out who can finish faster. cooking dinner? he must chop the vegetables quicker and more perfectly than you. folding laundry? he'll be done first (but probably mess it up a bit). (texting each other when he's away racing? he must be the last one to say goodnight every night, and he insists that he loves you more than you love him, that's just the way it is.) it isn't only to make the mundane tasks more fun – it's also because he really wants to see you laugh, to see your eyes light up with joy at the way he makes a fool of himself while trying to take a super quick shower. he definitely lets you win sometimes, but only to see how happy you look (even though he adores the pout you put on when you lose).

paul aron, arthur leclerc, lando norris

…want to be a part of your family so badly

oh, there's nothing he wants more than to be loved and accepted by your family. it's his biggest wish. he wants to be like an older brother to your younger siblings, always playing around with them during the day but also making sure to be the responsible one and help out at night, tucking them in and reading them bedtime stories. with your parents, he does his best to always be completely respectful and proper – though he does find it a bit of a relief when he finally reaches that stage when he and them get comfortable and close. he adores the way your aunts and uncles treat him just like anyone else at family parties, and he's obsessed with the sound of your grandparents telling him what a "sweet and perfect young gentleman" he is. all of this just because he believes that if he one day is going to start a family with you, he needs to first be a part of the one you already have.

jack doohan, ollie bearman, luke browning

[magicisrealandsoismyally]

Okay, thought we were being like, chill, but I guess that's a kindness only afforded to people you consider to be women, so I'm gonna break this down piece by piece here, a lot to address.

"purposely obtuse or intellectually dishonest"

right off the bat the fact I disagree with you means I'm being intentionally wrong and evil. There's no room for me to be misguided, or making mistakes, or being uninformed, I'm either playing stupid or lying. Got it.

I "either hate AFABs, or don't take harm against them seriously". Once again, another false dichotomy. I take harm against women incredibly seriously, I just don't think the biggest threat to women is trans women. I think we have the same enemies, conservative men in power. I said you were fueled by fear because I was trying to be nice. It's not just fear. It's anger. Misdirected anger. You, and many others, have decided the easiest thing to do is hate.

Yeah. It is in fact transphobic to demand sex segregated spaces given that a true biological sex isn't fucking real. That's why it's "Assigned male at birth" or "Assigned female at birth". I've been assigned a lot of things throughout my life. So have you. Are you going to tell me those assignments were always accurate? I mean hell, with the amount of cis people out there, their accuracy rate is definitely above 50%. Still not accurate tho.

Transphobia is both the people trying to murder us, and the people, who don't want us in spaces that are away from the people trying to murder us. You are aware that the same cis men wanna kill us both right? You've arbitrarily drawn a line in the sand because you are grossly misunderstanding how trans people work. The number one piece of advice I see on this site from transfems, is how to avoid being SAed. By cis men, by cis women, by trans men. It's so common, that it makes me question if I even want to be in spaces with y'all. You wanna talk about fear? I'm fucking terrified. All the time. The instant I come out to the world, I get to spend the rest of my life, knowing that at any moment, someone says anything negative about me? and my life is over. Because people like you, will believe them. Because the scary transfem must be the person oppressing you. Because its easy, to villainize the minority. And it's easy to decide he's a monster. And all the while, she loses everything just for being an easy target.

You wanna talk physical safety? 83% of genderqueer victims of fatal violence are trans women. People love to kill us.

AMAB privilege is not real. I was not socialized male. I think you have a perspective on how the patriarchy functions that hasn't seen the other side of the fence, so let me go ahead and elaborate on that. Being a Man, is something you can fail out of in the patriarchy. It's a club that is nigh impossible to enter, but really fucking easy to fail out. Under the patriarchy, I am not a man. I failed out of that shit at the age of 8 when I said I didn't like sports. When I did anything "girlie" at all. When I cried. I was a crybaby (according to my family) and a faggot (according to the other kids at school). And from that moment, I was a target. Always have been. I wasn't socialized male, I was socialized as a failed man. Most trans girls are treated that way from a young age. I did not benefit from the patriarchy I was shoved around. I have gotten into an absurd amount of fights that I never started because some fucking asshole decided to beat the shit out of the fag. I spent like a week on tumblr before hearing other shared experiences about this kinda thing. Literally not hard to talk to trans women about this stuff if you, yk, try.

"We don’t need to check genitals I would have no problem with the manliest most masculine most passing trans man in an afab space because no matter what hormones or surgery are involved they cannot rape and impregnate me with their penis the same way an AMAB person could."

How do you know he's trans. How. Tell me right now how you tell the difference between a cis man and a trans man with bottom surgery. Do that without being transphobic, please. Find a way. I'm looking for something hilarious to read today, it's been a long one. Because if you don't have a way, your entire transmisogynistic utopia falls apart here. You can't tell if someone is trans. It's about identity. You cannot tell if someone has a penis. No matter what you do. You cannot tell someone's assigned gender at birth.

And how wonderful, you mentioned prisons, just read about this one. Did you know when transfems are imprisoned they get placed with the most violent cellmates? It's a tactic to reduce prison violence. Give the most violent people their own live in target. They get called prison wives. It's called V-Coding. So yeah, prisons are messed up. For both of us. If only we could talk about that and unite to fix that oh wait that's literally the whole point of having transfems in feminist spaces, crazy how that works.

"Also trans AMAB people commit sex crimes at an even higher rate than cis AMAB people"

WHERE IS THE FUCKING SOURCE. I am tired of TMEs and their constant stream of libel demonizing trans women. All of your nonsense statistics is so fucking stupid. Where are you getting these numbers? The sex offenders list? The one that as recently in the 80s included anyone who crossdressed or hit on a person of the same gender even if they were reciprocating? I literally have heard cis lesbians complain about that shit on this site, you're not even being a feminist by citing sex crimes, you're being a cop. Fucking being trans counted as being a sex criminal for most of American history. Drag queens, trans women, and crossdressers get accused of sex crimes all the fucking time, you have no critical thinking god fucking damn.

"which again did not START segregated they became that way because AMAB people could t be trusted not to rape/assault AFAB ones"

Yeah no lmao, (this next paragraph is going to be USAmerican centric because yk, that's what I learned about growing up) they kicked literally all queer people out when women got the right to vote, both lesbians and bi-women had to fight their way back into these spaces in the decades prior. I feel like we forgot about the Ellen Show or smth? Like feminists did not fucking go to bat for her after she came out. Groups will turn on their supporters the instant they decide they don't need them. Mainstream Feminism turned on people of color and queer people who put their own movements on hold to support the women's right to vote so fucking fast. It's American history too, all I had to do to learn this was have a pulse in my US history class.

Also “capitalism is real because it impacts me in a negative way but all other forms of oppression where I might be considered the privileged one in the dynamic is just hysterical people distracting from capitalism”

Girl, reading comprehension, try it out for size. I did not say these systems of oppression are not real. I'm saying demonization and fear of minorities (like, yk, trans women) is a tool of the existing power systems to make you hate us and not your actual enemy, the people in power (like, yk, rich people who are usually cis white conservative men). You keep bringing up how awful existing systems like prisons are but you just, do not analyze who fucking set those systems up. Private prisons are owned by the rich, not by the trans woman you're yelling at who is 4 bad days away from giving up and killing herself.

If trans AMAB people don’t want to be housed with cis ones, they can do the legwork and create those spaces for themselves like AFAB people did they do NOT have the right to commandeer our movement and literally erase our rights and protections because not allowing AMAB people into these vulnerable spaces might give them the big sad.

Okay so first you tell me feminist spaces weren't originally segregated by sex, and now you tell me it's an AFAB only movement? Because I know for a fact trans people have always been at bat for feminism. American white women said the same shit to women of color between 1920-1965. Cause the instant we become expendable, y'all throw us aside.

commandeer our movement

Really? Do you genuinely think trans women could ever outnumber cis women? What cartoon candyville are you from where there are more trans women than cis women? How the fuck are we going to commandeer the movement? We're like, 0.3% of the population at most. What are you talking about.

YEAH MY GUY IM FORCED TO LIVE LIKE A FUCKING PREY ANIMAL!!!

Okay so for starters, transwomen are also in constant fear. We have literally been hunted, this is just, like, a historical thing. Second, I'm not a guy. Don't call me that. You cannot honestly tell me you're not transphobic and then proceed to use exclusively masc terms to refer to me. That's just wild. Playing along with the tranny does not make you not a trans ally. You're still a transphobe just cause you're fine with trans men.

Some fear is completely rational

Yeah. We're both completely justified in our fear. I do not build my politics off my fear. You do. That's the difference. No matter how terrified I am of TMEs, I still fight for y'all. Always have, always will.

Gender is literally fake and varies from culture to culture. Sex based oppression is real and fucks over the lives of AFAB people worldwide.

Ohh, damn, so close, you'll get it next time I'm sure. See the trick is BOTH OF SEX AND GENDER ARE FAKE. Genderqueer people just admit that it's about self expression. You literally just described how fallible sex assignment is by talking about intersex people, it's like, hella cultural. Sex based oppression is real. So is Gender based oppression. Because people are shitty about fake shit, all the time, we're on tumblr, the "death threats over shipping" website.

You cannot tell me you think you're not transphobic and then claim gender oppression isn't real. I feel bad for any trans people who have the misfortune to interact with you. I hope one day you realize you fought on the wrong side of history. And if not? I hope they speak of you in the same breath as the grown adults trying to stop Ruby Bridges from attending school, in the same breath as the cops at Stonewall. You have an excellent day. I probably won't, but what's new. I'm sorry you're so afraid. I'm sorry you fell for it when they told you who to be afraid of. I'm sorry I couldn't do more. If anyone wants sources on this stuff, i'll add links to posts getting into it, a lot of it's screenshots and i'm not about to make this any longer than it is. There's more ofc, but I can only cite what links I have on hand, y'all can do your own research, read like, any transfem blog while they still exist. https://www.tumblr.com/honeylemony/767694258735136768?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/marxism-transgenderism/767536279224270848/okay-ive-said-before-that-part-of-why https://www.tumblr.com/girldogmystic/766813723287502848/i-wanna-get-more-specific-with-this-according-to

"OP is a terf" is a thought-terminating cliche meant to keep you from questioning the status quo and keep you afraid of being labeled a heretic should you come to your own conclusions about anything.

[stoopidpigeonxx]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚! ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

aw look at em go. Anyways. BABY. DADDY. CURLY. RAUGHHGJDGHKDJGHDG.

SUGGESTED BY A LOVELY SOUL!! @ultimateship-shipper TY SO MUCH I LOVE YOUUU !! <33 Fandoms/characters: Mouthwashing, Captain Curly Content: SFW, Reader is female, pregnancy, brief mention of childbirth yk, curly being a good ass dad, tooth rotting fluff, I actually love this sm.

-Curly would most likely want a family. -Not a big one, but he is set on getting you pregnant at least once. -And he does. The instant you showed him that positive test, he was ecstatic. Grabbing you and swinging you around, screaming about how he was gonna be a dad. -He'd be SO good to you during your pregnancy. Making sure you're always comfortable, getting you all your weird cravings, rubbing your back when you needed it. -Obsessed with your growing bump. Will lay his head on it and constantly ask to feel his baby kick. He's just so amazed that you're growing literal life inside of you. -Wants a girl. I don't know why, but I feel like he'd be a girl dad. -Makes a list of baby names and goes through them with you to help pick out the ones you like best. -When the little one finally arrives, he's by your side the entire time. Holding your hand and coaching you through it. -When you're handed your little bundle of joy, he bursts into tears apon seeing them. He can't help it. -Holding his baby for the first time... he's in love. -Hes a good parent. Although you have to be the strict one from time to time, he loves his kid more than the world itself. -I swear, he mothers that baby more than you do. Always holding them, bottle feeding them when you aren't there, showing off pictures at every opportunity. -I see him being a 'dont tell your mom' parent. He's goofy. -When your kid starts asking for a sibling, he's quick to jump to the opportunity to have another. <3

[vampyrevolution]

Saying Mel falls into the "Disposable Black Girlfriend trope" just because of jayvik completely disregards the writing of her character and how her relationship with Jayce is an echo of her problems with her mother and city.

Now I'm not saying the dbg trope is not a GENUINE problem in media, because it is, but usually this trope consists of a black woman with lousy writing who's tossed away for two (usually white and gay but that is a totally different long story that deals with a long history of racism and erasure of black women in queer spaces for the sake of gay men) characters who get with each other.

This is not that and I need to explain why. Jayce and Mel UNDOUBTEDLY loved each other at SOME point, but their relationship did not have solid ground hence them breaking up. Mel wanted to be with Jayce because it symbolized rebellion, a unique way of looking at life and helping people. It symbolized something she was willing to risk everything for to see it prosper because this was the city she was building for her family in Noxus, to show her family she WAS the wolf and could handle be a leader, and a peaceful one at that. But to Jayce, she symbolized high society, a seat at the very table that tried to get rid of him, a part of the power he thought he deserved and a place where he knew he could MAKE A DIFFERENCE FOR THE PEOPLE.

The two of them loved the idea of one another, but never independently, the other. To say Mel is the disposable black girlfriend is to also ignore everything she went through in the season finale and everything that she's becoming, especially with the information that Noxus (where Mel is and will most likely be a lead character again) will be another series location. Mel is a complex lead whose story revolves around her at home life and familial relationship. Yes she's used as a mirror to parallel Viktor but that literally doesn't mean she's disposable, breaking up just means two characters were not meant to be and they recognized that.

Also in what world would Jayce be able to consciously even want to get back with Mel knowing she had magic and he was on a mini solo-war against the arcane? Where he thinks she's been able to control her magic this whole time and would constantly wonder why she didn't save Viktor because if she had, none of this would be happening?

That man does not wanna be with her 😭 he has literally always thought about Viktor.

And Mel has always thought about her family

They've both always seen each other as a way out their problems and a gateway/mirror to the ones they love. You could even say they're two sides of the same coin.

Also, Mel, Ekko and JayVik literally saved everyone in the end so idk how you could think this when Mel literally helped save the whole world as an imperative character to the plot.

[narxcisse]

★ — General yandere Jason Todd headcanons

Pairing: Yandere!Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Warning: Obsession and yandere behaviors, toxic jealousy, surveillance and control, manipulation, social isolation(?), mental health and trauma, toxic relationships

Minors DNI / English isn't my native language

Jason has a natural protective instinct that, in its yandere version, turns into an extreme need to control everything that could harm you. With his past full of trauma (death, resurrection, physical and emotional abuse), Jason is obsessed with preventing you from going through anything similar. If he perceives even the slightest threat, he will act with relentless brutality. Whether it's a stalker or a simple "friend" who is too close, Jason will not hesitate to intervene.

He doesn't follow a black-and-white moral code, but instead inhabits a grey area that reflects his own values. This means that he would justify anything to keep you "safe." In his mind, killing for you is not only permissible, but a moral obligation. He sees his extreme actions as an extension of his love and the only way to protect you in a world filled with chaos.

Jason channels his anger at the world that betrayed him, but you are his exception. Though he can be explosive and violent with others, around you his tone softens, even when he's frustrated. You're his only emotional refuge and the only thing that keeps his anger in check. If you ever challenge him directly or try to walk away, though, that gentleness can turn into a dangerous mix of pleading and veiled threat.

His obsession with protecting you leads him to constantly monitor you, even when you're not together. He has no problem installing discreet cameras or trackers. While he might seem to respect your space, he actually knows more about your movements than he would ever admit. If you discover this behavior, Jason won't deny it, but he will try to justify it with a "I don't trust them, not you."

Jason is no stranger to manipulation, especially when it comes to keeping you by his side. He knows how to use his emotional wounds to appeal to your empathy – he brings up his death or how Bruce left him behind to make you feel guilty if you ever try to distance yourself. Although his love is genuine, he doesn't hesitate to use psychological tactics to make sure you don't abandon him.

Even though he tries to remain calm, Jason is quickly consumed by jealousy. If someone else tries to get too close to you, Jason may start with snide remarks or indirect criticisms about that person, but if that doesn't work, he'll take more drastic measures. He may "accidentally" scare that person or directly confront them in secret, making it clear that they shouldn't be in your life.

He's someone who shows his affection in tangible ways: gifts, acts of service, or even physically confronting your problems. However, his approach can be overwhelming. He doesn't easily accept that you don't need his constant intervention, and any rejection of his help is taken as a sign that you don't trust him. This only fuels his obsession with proving to you that he's the only one who truly cares about you.

Despite his brutality and control, Jason has moments of incredible vulnerability. He feels at peace with you, and those moments of honesty (when he admits his fears or shares his most painful memories) show that he is not just an obsessive yandere, but a deeply wounded man who fears being abandoned again. In these moments, he can be disarmingly sweet, even begging you not to leave him.

Jason doesn't want you to distance yourself from him emotionally or physically. Under the guise of protecting you, he might push you away from friends, family, or anyone he perceives as a distraction or threat to your relationship. At first it's subtle, suggesting that certain people aren't trustworthy, but over time, he can be more direct in enforcing boundaries on who you can interact with.

Jason constantly struggles with the duality of wanting to love you fully but feeling unworthy of being loved. This fuels his need to keep you close – he fears that if you notice his flaws or sins, you will leave him. This insecurity makes him act more possessive, thinking that as long as he is in control, he won’t have to face the pain of rejection.

Jason sees you as a source of redemption. He believes that caring for and protecting you is his way of making up for all the bad things he's done. This idealism can be dangerous, as it puts you on an impossible pedestal. If you ever make a mistake or contradict that perfect image he has of you, he could feel betrayed, which could trigger even more erratic behavior.

For Jason, his love for you is eternal and absolute. No matter how many barriers stand in the way or how difficult the situation, he will never stop fighting for you, even if it means taking on his allies, Bruce, or the world itself. In his mind, you are the only person worth risking it all for.

[strnilolover]

.✦ ── She’s Not Mine, She’s Not You ── ✦.

♡ Prince!Matt x Maid Reader au

⚠︎ Warmings : Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff, Forbidden Love/Relationship, Sneaking around and More.

♡ In which … prince matt and maid reader have been in a secret relationship for a little bit now. But, they’ve had to keep it behind closed doors because of his royal status and family. What happens when he’s placed in an arranged marriage he doesn’t even want to be in?

The air in your small quarters felt heavier than usual this evening. The flickering light of a single candle cast soft shadows on the stone walls as you meticulously folded linens. The familiar routine was meant to keep your mind occupied, but tonight, it couldn’t quiet the gnawing unease that had settled in your chest.

Matt had been distant all day. Normally, he’d find a reason to slip into whatever room you were working in, whether it was the grand library, the kitchens, or even the stables. He’d offer smiles and some heated actions that made your heart race. But today, he was nowhere to be found.

You told yourself it was nothing — that he was simply busy with royal duties. Yet the anxious pit in your stomach told a different story.

But then a sudden, forceful knock at your door startled you. Before you could answer, the door burst open. Matt stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His hair was messier than usual, his shirt slightly wrinkled as if he’d been running his hands through it all day. His expression was a storm of frustration and anguish, a stark contrast to the gentle, confident prince you knew.

“Matt?” you said cautiously, setting the linens aside and stepping toward him. “What’s going on?” you whisper, cautious not to upset him farther from what ever it was.

He didn’t answer right away, instead closing the door behind him with a heavy thud and locking it. His hands rested on the doorframe for a moment as he let out a slow, shaky breath. When he finally turned to face you, the fire in his eyes made your heart skip.

“They’ve done it,” he said bitterly. “They’ve made the decision for me.” his words were rough — it sounded like he just ate something that wasn’t good, whatever this was — wasn’t good.

Your brows furrowed slightly, unsure as to what he meant — but you had a feeling. “What decision?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you already knew you weren’t going to like the answer he was going to provide you.

He took a breath, his body visibly shaking. “My parents,” he began, his voice tight with anger. “They’ve arranged a marriage. To Lady Evelina.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. You felt the air leave your lungs as your knees wobbled slightly. You gripped the edge of your desk for support, your fingers digging into the wood.

You stood there, the words on the tip of your tongue — but it felt like gravel running along your mouth. “When?” you managed to ask, though your voice trembled.

“The engagement is to be announced at the ball in five months.” he spat, pacing the small room like a caged animal. “They didn’t even ask me. They didn’t give me a choice.” he voice raised, hands coming up to point at his chest as to get his words across more clearly.

You stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. The weight of it pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. “Lady Evelina…” you said softly, as if saying her name aloud would make it less real. “She’s… she’s beautiful. She’s noble. She’s—”

“She’s not you,” Matt interrupted, stopping mid-step to look at you. His gaze was fierce, almost desperate. “She’s not the one I love.” he stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was, to you both.

“Matt…” You shook your head, a lump forming in your throat. “You’re a prince. You were always going to marry someone like her. I knew that.” you said, voice cracking as you forced them through your teeth.

“No,” he said firmly, crossing the room to stand in front of you. “I told you from the beginning — I don’t care about any of that. Titles, politics, expectations — they mean nothing to me. You’re the only one who matters.”

His words, spoken with such conviction, brought tears to prick at the corner of your eyes. “And what about your kingdom?” you asked, your voice breaking even more. “What about your people? They expect you to marry someone who can strengthen alliances, someone who can stand beside you as a queen-“

“I don’t care what they expect!” he exclaimed, cutting you off as his frustration started to boil over. “I care about what I want. And I want you.”

“You think that’s enough?” you said, tears streaming down your cheeks now. “You think you can just tell your parents, your court, your entire kingdom that you love a maid, and they’ll just… accept it?” your chest twisted.

“I’ll make them accept it,” he said stubbornly, his jaw set. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Your hands trembled as you stepped away from him, needing distance to think clearly. “Matt, you’re being reckless,” you said, your voice barely steady. “You have a responsibility — to your family, to your kingdom. I can’t let you throw all of that away for me.”

He followed you, closing the space quickly between you with a few long strides. “You don’t get to decide that,” he said, his voice soft but firm. He reached for your hands, holding them gently despite the storm of emotions coursing through his veins. “This is my life. And I’m choosing you.” he whispered, gripping your hands tighter as he brought them up to place a small peck on your knuckles.

Your resolve crumbled under the weight of his words. A sob escaped your lips as you shook your head. “You shouldn’t have to choose,” you whispered. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice everything for me.”

Matt shook his head, “Don’t you see?” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m not sacrificing anything. You’re the only thing that’s ever felt right. Without you, none of it matters.”

And you stared at him — your tears falling freely now. His love for you was undeniable, but so was the impossible weight of the world he lived in.

“And Lady Evelina?” you asked bitterly. “What about her? She’s being forced into this, too. She deserves someone who loves her.”

“She does,” Matt admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. “But that person won’t be me. I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her the truth.“ he says.

“And what if she wants you to be that person?” The question hung in the air like a dark cloud, the unspoken reality neither of you wanted to face.

Matt’s hands tightened around yours once more, his grip almost desperate. “Then I’ll find another way,” he said firmly. “I’ll talk to my parents, the council — whoever I need to. There has to be another way.” his voice was almost a plea now — the once storm was still there, but muffled now.

“Matt…” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Sometimes there isn’t.”

He pulled you into his arms suddenly, holding you so tightly it was as if he thought you might disappear. His chin rested on the top of your head, and you could feel his chest rising and falling against you.

“I won’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tears you could hear in it. “No matter what it takes, I won’t lose you.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his embrace for what you feared might be the last time. “I love you, Matt,” you whispered. “But this… it’s bigger than us. You can’t fix this.”

“Yes, I can,” he said softly, but there was a crack in his voice that betrayed his own doubt. “I have to.”

For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist. There was no Lady Evelina, no arranged marriage, no impossible expectations. There was only Matt, his arms around you, and the love you both felt but couldn’t hold onto.

But reality had a way of creeping back in. And as you pulled away, the weight of what lay ahead settled heavily in your chest.

“Promise me something,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

“Promise me you won’t lose yourself in this fight,” you whispered. “No matter what happens, no matter what you have to do — don’t lose the part of you that I fell in love with.”

He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streaked your cheeks. “I won’t,” he said softly, his voice steady now. “But I can’t promise that I won’t fight for you. Because I will. Until my last breath.”

© strnilolover

a/n : holy shit balls y’all. i have been thinking about this for so long and now i have finally, FINALLY, written the first part. i’m not sure how many parts there will be after this or what direction it’ll go in, i’m just building as i go. BUT — i hope you all enjoy this first part 😛

[in1-nutshell]

Sunstreakers Toddler Buddy being turned into a Cybertronian?And perhaps the establish a creator-creation bond?

Got to think of a new name for Toddler Buddy...Hope you enjoy!

Hope you enjoy!

Sunstreaker's Human toddler turn Bot

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Slight Angst, Human/ Cybertronian reader

IDW/G1

It was a case of ‘wrong place at the wrong time’.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had to leave for patrol that morning, leaving Buddy at the base.

They were on break from school and was sleeping in.

Sunstreaker himself would have loved to get in another hour of sleep, but duty calls.

Buddy was left in the care of most of the bots in the base.

The more optics looking after them the better right?

…Right?

Out on patrol… Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are driving down the empty road. Sunstreaker: “How much longer until we can go back?” Sideswipe: “Just a couple more miles Sunny.” Sunstreaker grumbles. Sideswipe: “Don’t get your tailpipe twisted. We’ll be back and helping Buddy color their books before you know it.” BEEP! BEEP! The com line was sounding off. The twins both pick up the call. Sideswipe: “This is Sideswipe, what’s—” CRASH! Smokescreen: “Bluestreak get them out of there! Oh! You guys answered.” Sunstreaker: “Smokescreen what’s going on? Is Buddy all right?” SCREECH! Smokescreen: “Umm, okay is subjective right now…” Sunstreaker: “I am only going to repeat this one more time. What is GOING ON!?” Sideswipe: “Geez Sunny let the mech speak. Go on Smokes.” Smokescreen: “I—well they—You know what I think its better if you guys came in an—SCRAP! BLUESTREAK GRAB THEM BEFORE THEY GET OUT THE DOOR! WHAT DO YOU MENA THEY’RE GONE!” BLITZ! The line went dead. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sharply turn around and burn rubber to get to the base.

By the time the twins made it to the base, there were already search parties looking around for Buddy.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe get the summary from Prowl and Jazz.

Laserbeak had entered in the base not too long after they had gone out and fired a strange looking gun blindly before retreating.

The beam had hit Buddy turning them into a sparkling.

Yes, Sunstreaker nearly passed out at the news, but Sideswipe hoisted him back to his pedes as the other mechs continued.

Buddy was very scared and confused at first, before they found out how much easier it was to inerct with everyone as a bot.

Bluestreak and Smokescreen had done a good job in making sure Buddy was comfortable and held their new servos when things got a bit scary for them.

Buddy kept on asking where Sunstreaker was and that they wanted him to see them like this.

Cue the sparkling chase throughout the entire base before they slipped into a vent that lead to the outside world.

Sunstreaker: “Well, do we know where they are now?” Prowl pulls up a data pad: “We are getting the information now. Wheeljack had the idea of microchipping Buddy before they learned how to walk.” Sideswipe and Sunstreaker: “They couldn’t walk!” Jazz: “Like we said before, they were turned into a sparkling, a NEW sparkling. The little thing could barely walk without falling on their face.” Sunstreaker feels increasing stress. PING! Prowl: “The locztion is set for…” Prowl pauses before showing the data pad to Jazz. The twin get a bad feeling after swings both mech’ door wings stiffen. Sunstreaker: “Well!? Where’s my sparkling!?” Jazz and Prowl look at each other for a minute before nodding. Prowl starts walking away calling several bots to come and follow him. Jazz: “Okay fellas, you might wanna sit down for this.” Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sit down. Jazz: “…Buddy’s location was last seen outside Decepticon HQ.” THUD! Sunstreaker passes out and lands on his face with a sick looking Sideswipe.

With Buddy…

Buddy was lost for a while now.

All they wanted to do was show Sunstreaker their new frame, and now they couldn’t even remember the way back home.

They were by the shoreline when something started flying around.

For a split-second Buddy thought the planes were Decepticon’s they had seen on Teletran-One’s screens.

Buddy’s optics widen as well as their smile seeing the familiar red plane land in front of them. Buddy: “Mr. Powerglide!” Powerglide runs up and scoops them up in a hug. Powerglide: “Geez kiddo! You’re a bit far from home, aren’t you?” Buddy nods feeling bad about running off. Powerglide: “Lets get you home. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are worried sick for ya.” Buddy perks up a bit when the name of the yellow mech is dropped. Buddy: “Okay!” Powerglide: “And AWAY we go!”

All the bots sighed in relief hearing that Powerglide had found Buddy safe and sound.

Today’s events could have gone much worse if the Decepticons had found out about Buddy’s whereabouts.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe where taken into a different room before they could meet Buddy.

Mainly because Sunsreaker kept on pulling ‘Prowl’s’ on every surface he could turn over.

Prowl and Jazz accompany the sparkling to the room.

The door opens. The twins both stand up at the sound of the door opening. Sunstreaker: “Any sign of them? Are they okay!” Sideswipe notices a small frame behind Jazz’s pedes. He nugdes his twin’s arm and points to Jazz’s pedes. Sunstreaker pauses. Sunstreaker: “Buddy?” The sparkling’s helm pops from Jazz’s side. They smile widely. Buddy: “Sunny!” Sunstreaker falls to his knees as Buddy leaps into his arms. Sunstreaker just holds them tightly as they ramble on about their frame and how cool they look.

The answer of how to get Buddy back to normal is still unknown given the machine used to turn Buddy Cybertronian was in Decpticon hands.

For now Buddy was Cybertronian until further notice.

Buddy did miss being able to hide in certain places, but on the bright side they were much stronger and durable.

Just like Sunstreaker!

Speaking of the yellow mech, it takes a long time for anyone to convince him to leave the room without Buddy in his arms or nearby.

He makes sure that Buddy has a shiny finish and buffed frame.

His spark melted a bit when they wanted their paintjob to have the same yellow as his.

It is much easier to handle Buddy being much bigger and the same species, not that Sunstreaker would ever admit it out loud.

Honestly as long as Buddy is safe and happy, the mech couldn’t care what species they were.

[lieslab]

Broken hearts club

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Bang Chan X gn reader

Summary: Unexpectedly, you find yourself face-to-face with the leader of a gang, but you'd never imagine how your relationship would end.

Genre: Angst with no happy ending

Word Count: 3.8K

Trigger warning: Mentions of homelessness and insecurities/struggles surrounding it, fear of love, gun violence, casual crime, and murder.

A/N: I'm going to tell you now that if you struggle with feeling unlovable, you might want to skip this one. I have big feelings and this was like an hour long vent write for me. Please remember that it's fiction and this Chan does not exist (thank fuck)

_ _ _

It was like the home you never had. Two years ago, Bang Chan found you filthy and half-dazed in an alleyway. You were just trying to survive on the streets. Life isn’t kind to the homeless. When your dignity is stripped as you dive into dumpsters for food, you start to feel less like a human and more like a testing specimen. 

The world kept spinning, families enjoyed their time indoors, but not you. You were left out in the cold like an abandoned dog. Without a house, without a home, without a family, and without love. The world conspired against you, it always had, and you were certain it’d be this way until the end of time. 

Your clothes hadn’t been washed in days. You were one quarter short from being able to wash your clothes at the laundromat. You had enough to dry them, but washing them cost a whole quarter more; just another cruel way that the world laughed at you. The stench that radiated off you was a mixture between sour milk and sweaty socks. 

You used to have an extra pair of socks to warm your hands. They were stolen by another homeless person when your back was turned. You thought the two of you were friends, but you forgot that when people are where you are, it’s survival of the fittest. Not everyone is genuine when you hit rock bottom. Humans will do what they can to survive. 

You pulled the socks from your feet and used them to warm your hands. They hadn’t been washed and they were soaked in your old sweat and skin cells, but desperate times called for desperate measures. When you kicked off your shoes for a moment of rest, the scent of decay filled the air. 

On that night, your body was burning up at the slightest touch. The Texas heat had nothing compared to what your body was going through. The weather was chillier, your cheeks were red from bitter winds, your nose was frozen to the touch, but your body was on fire. 

A fever engulfed you and there was nothing you could do besides ride it out. Pharmacies didn’t care if you were homeless. Corporate greed had no compassion for the starving and the crippled. If you couldn’t afford to wash your clothes, you certainly couldn’t afford a bottle of cheap over-the-counter medicine. 

You didn’t mean to stumble into Chan that night. You were certain you were going to die. Actually, you craved the sweet release of death. Without deodorant, you could smell yourself. Your hair had been saturated with grease for two days. 

Every part of you felt filthy and worn. You felt disgusting and awful. You knew you needed to shower, but you were so delirious, you couldn’t even distinguish left from right. The gym was on the opposite side of town, your head was heavy, and your legs were on fire. Trying to make it would be a certain death wish. So, you stumbled forward instead. 

Chan was supposed to be keeping an eye out for some guy he had been watching. His gang was well-known around town. They ran the streets and were on top of everything. Cops stayed silent about their crimes. Chan’s group was a bunch of vigilantes, they played both sides. 

As long as the cops could run traffic stops and do the most of their jobs without concern, Chan and his heathens were let off the hook. All it took was one call and they’d be off into the dead of night again; disappearing into the sound of faint sirens, barking dogs, and the orange warmth beneath streetlights. 

You didn’t have a choice when you stumbled into Chan. It was merely an accident, but his reflexes were fast. His gun swung and before you knew it, you were pistol whipped. The cold metal felt glorious for a moment and then you free fell. Unforgiving concrete, blurred vision, and the incriminating stare of a stranger above. God’s abandonment tasted like salted sweat and iron. 

Blood oozed from the gash in your forehead. Chan didn’t have time to ask your name or gather any identifying details. Your eyes rolled back into your head and that was that. Sounds stopped, the earth kept spinning, and your soul was silenced. 

You expected the devil to greet you when you woke up, instead you were met by a man wearing a pleather jacket. Black eyeliner rimmed beneath his eyes and an eyebrow piercing sat above his left eyebrow. A stern gaze, messy black hair, and a death sentence. 

You were sure this was the grim reaper. He looked like heaven and hell combined. Along his cheek, a scar had healed, but the spot where stitches stretched skin together hadn’t. If you narrowed your eyes, you could still make out the exact spot where each stitch stretched honey-soaked skin together. 

Your fear tapered out the moment he handed a water bottle in your direction. The plastic sides dripped with condensation. It cooled your overheating body the moment you took it. Maybe this wasn’t your enemy, but your long-lost savior instead. 

He was too serious. Too serious all the time and you hated him for it. You grew to love him and his seven other goons. He was good at what he did. Always directing, always pushing and pulling, always carrying the gang. Dealing with enemy antics while fighting the stupidity and occasional incognitiveness forged in his own group. 

They weren’t perfect, they had their issues, but they had Chan. They had a leader and a fighter. A whirlwind of chaos, power, and strict determination. They had a lot of things as a group, but they didn’t have you. You fit right in once your fever broke. 

Your quick banter, sarcasm, and wit gave them a reality check. Even the best witted ones were out-smarted by you. After a shower, some new clothes, and a full meal, you felt like a person again. Chan and his crew became your family, but families don’t always stay together. 

~ ~ 

“What the hell is this?” A manila folder flung your way. It landed on the table in front of you with a harsh thud. You had been studying the layout of a mansion for the next mission when you felt the first fissure. 

Chan’s words pulled you from your planning and you glanced up at him. “What is this?” You pushed open the folder to find a thick stack of papers. 

“That’s what I want you to tell me.” 

You didn’t like the accusatory tone in his voice. Laced with venom, he was a copperhead waiting to strike. Every hair on the back of your neck stood up. Something was wrong, but you couldn’t place it just yet. 

Paper after paper you flipped through. Photocopies of text messages, emails from your email address, and photos of security camera footage of you with different people. They weren't just anyone, they were rival gang members. Rival gang members were strictly off limits. Any act of breaching Chan’s gang’s trust was an act of treason. If you wanted to sign your own death sentence, it was the perfect way to go. 

“I’m only going to ask you one more time.” His arms folded across his chest. “What the hell are these?” 

“Photocopies and security camera footage.” 

His nostrils flared and his eyes rolled. He stepped forward and tipped over you. The scent of some unknown spicy cologne with hints of vanilla and amber hit you. His hand smacked the wooden table, beneath it was a photo of you in a hoodie. A rival member stood across the way staring at you. He was identified by the obvious dark tattoo on his forearm. 

“You know there’s a rat.” 

Of course, you did. Someone had been leaking plans to someone. Information oozed out and missions were compromised. Compromised missions meant distrust and disorganization. How easy it was for a gang to slip up and have a member go missing, get injured, or be killed. 

It hurt like hell, his words, the way he said them with no mercy. That fever of yours was two years ago. Two years of learning his ways and what made him tick. The way he touched his ear when nervous. The constant bouncing of his leg as he spoke about new missions; the proof that he was eager to get started. You swore you knew everything about him, but he couldn’t say the same about you. 

He hesitated bringing you in. His gang was perfect, but he remembered how cruel the world could be. He saw the defeat in your eyes. The way you strolled along the side of abandoned factories and drug yourself along, trying to get just another step. He pitied you back then and clearly, it was all just a stupid mistake. 

“I know what this looks like, but I swear to God, this isn’t what it seems. This-” You picked up a photo of you and a different rival gang member. “This isn’t me. I mean, it is, but it’s not. You really think I’d rat you out?” 

“Well, it’s someone!” He snapped angrily. “It’s someone and look at this shit!” His arms waved in distress. “It’s clearly you!” 

“They have to be fake. I’d know if I was a rat. Listen,” you pushed yourself from the stool you sat upon, “I’ll prove it. These emails and texts, they can be disproven. Stay here and I’ll be right back.” 

You rushed out of the room before he could stop you. You had holed yourself in the small study. You always did that when you were studying for a mission. It was quiet and you liked to sink into that oversized leather chair beneath the books. 

The scent of weathered paper and worn leather. You sat there so much, the leather creased from where it had been worn. The secrets of the shelves watched over you. The lamp on the window beside you had been thrifted before you were a member. Despite that, you were the one who always used it the most. 

You came back with your laptop and your phone. You placed them on the oak desk and unlocked them. Your hands gestured to the objects. “Go ahead and look at them, you won’t find anything.” 

He stared at you, but you were adamant. “Come on,” you waved him closer. “Go ahead and look.” 

With a sigh, he dropped himself on the stool you had been sitting on. Blueprints were meticulous and you liked to keep your stuff straight. When you weren’t in that leather chair, you were on this stool studying things out and trying to make puzzle pieces fit together. 

Tension kept brewing and your stomach churned. You weren’t the rat, you knew that, but Chan didn’t. You’d never have it in you to turn your back on this group. This was the family you never had. The love you always craved, it had been found here. Within the past two years, you felt enough love to last a lifetime. 

You flipped through the papers. The text messages were fake and someone was good at impersonating you. From the text messages to the emojis, it was all spot on. The more you dove into the photos, the more you doubted yourself. There weren't any mistakes anywhere. Even the photos of you with rival members were photoshopped together seamlessly. Whoever did this, they were good. Better than good, they were damn great. 

The sound of your laptop shutting pulled your head up. Your eyes met Chan’s with desperation, but his dark eyes gave away nothing. He still looked the way he did two years ago, so broadening and mysterious. 

The only difference? You now knew the man behind the persona. You knew how he loved without him saying it. It was the way he passed food to you first and let you eat before him. It was hidden in the reminders he gave the members to buckle their seatbelts. It was found in the way he reassuringly checked for fevers, when members were sick, by gently using the back of his hand; the same exact way he checked yours two years ago. 

“Did you forget that text messages and emails can easily be erased?” 

“But why would I rat you out? The group? Why would I go against everything I love?” 

He scoffed and shook his head. You stepped closer to him. “Please, you have to believe me! Chan, I don’t even know these people!” 

“How did they get your email?” 

“I-I-” You stuttered trying to find the words. “I don’t know!” 

“Because you’re the rat. You gave out your email and yo-” 

“Stop saying that! I know how bad this looks, okay? I understand it!” You desperately flipped through the papers trying to find one small mistake to prove your innocence. “You have to believe that this isn’t me. Please, Chan, please.” 

“How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Because you trust me.” 

“I used to trust you.”

It was so much worse than the betrayal of the homeless lady you befriended. You asked her to watch your stuff and she took off with your socks. You had been working up a friendship for two weeks and you disappeared into a store to use the restroom. When you came back she was gone. 

You only knew her for two weeks, but how different two weeks was from two years. Two years of building up your own grit and determination. Building up a foundation of a body, fighting for the muscle you lost when starving on the streets, gaining back your dignity when the world ripped it away. 

“Don’t say that,” your voice cracked. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back your tears. “You do, you trust me. You trust me because I’m one of your members.” 

His gaze went back to the papers strewn along the desk behind you. He’d never show you how he truly felt. Deep down, he was devastated. He wanted to scream and grip you. He wanted to tug you into his grasp. He wanted to show you the love and admiration that he had neglected giving you these past two years, but instead he stood still, the evidence was too damning. 

“Prove to me you’re innocent,” he finally uttered. His heart fluttered with hope. A silent prayer was recounted from years ago. The memories of pews and biblical artifacts were dusty, but it was there. A basic prayer from Sunday School, one that was easy enough to remember, a five year old could quote it. 

“I don’t know how. I-I showed you my electronics, those are the only ones I own. I don’t know what more you could possibly want from me. You can search my room. You can do anything, just please, please, please believe me.” 

You didn’t want to admit it, but this was no longer a matter of Chan’s integrity and the gang’s security. This was a matter of life and death. You were no longer fighting for your innocence, you were fighting sudden death. 

He made the rules so crystal clear two years ago. A major fuck up and you were gone. Something so quick and easy, a bullet to the forehead. Brains pulverized, neurons ripped apart, the soul slipped away so easily. A single gunshot stood between traitors; a one way ticket from this life into the next. 

“Prove it,” he tried again. He wanted you to beg. To get down on your knees and weep. To repent for your sins and admit it all. He would find a way to forgive you, no matter how much the truth hurt, but you didn’t. 

You couldn’t. How could you? How could you possibly explain that none of this was real? The screenshots, the security footage, someone clearly wanted you gone. You didn’t understand why Chan believed it so easily, maybe he was the one who wanted you gone. Why wasn’t he fighting for you?

“Chan?” You finally whispered. The reality of your situation was settling in. He never responded, but you spoke anyway. “Can you just…can you tell the guys that I love them?” 

Betrayal clamped down. It was a confession in his eyes. The sting of a bee, the teeth of a cobra, a shot of gin mixed with rejection. After everything you had been through with the gang, he didn’t expect it to feel like this. 

Those eyes used to hold warmth now and then. In the sunlight, they lit up like pools of chocolate. You saw those eyes at bonfires during the summer. It was the oozing chocolate between roasted marshmallows and graham crackers. You saw them in the dirt smeared along your jeans after you ducked, dived, and dodged your way through each dangerous mission. 

It was a rarity, but it was special, your own personal Halley’s Comet. It was replaced with resentment and bitterness now. An anger had been uncapped and no matter what you professed and claimed, it couldn’t stop it. 

“That’s all you have to say after everything we’ve been through?” His hand reached back behind his back. You knew what was coming. “You wanna die? I’ll fucking kill you myself!” 

That black pistol was always loaded. His reflexes had been quick since you knew him. It was the same pistol that knocked you out two years back. You never had a chance to dive then and you never had a chance now. 

“Fuck you and fuck your love! You’re nothing, but a liar and a goddamn traitor and yet, you want me to lie to them? To tell them you loved them after you put them in danger? You put us all in danger!” 

“I-” You couldn’t get the words out. They lodged in your throat and you didn’t know how to force them out. You didn’t want it to end up like this.

“Fuck you, your love, and everything about you! Die knowing that no one will ever fucking love you and you’re dead to me.” 

Bang! 

The memories of the past two years flashed before your eyes. The fear building up in your gut on each harrowing mission you went on. The board games you played around the dining room table. They used to end with someone getting mad and throwing the board. You all collapsed in a heap of laughter at the pettiest members. It changed every time. 

You used to find comfort within Chan. Every time you struggled, you’d find him and explain your problems. He wouldn’t offer hugs or sympathy, but he leant a listening ear. He wouldn’t pity you, he’d just listen. Sometimes you never wanted advice, you just wanted proof that you weren’t alone, a gentle and familiar reminder that you were loved. 

Your body fell through the air and your brain stopped, but not in the way you wanted it to. Chan’s back turned to you, you didn’t realize it, you couldn’t. Not when you were like this. 

The carpet was as hard and unforgiving as the pavement was two years ago. Warmth soaked your chest and you could still see. You tried to breathe, but there was no air left to take. In his fit of anger, Chan didn’t shoot you in the head, but he hit your heart instead. 

The bullet lined directly with the center of your heart and his bullets never missed their target. One more cruel reminder from the world that you were unlovable. People didn’t throw pity when you were surviving on the street, instead, it was accusing glares, as if you were nothing, but a pesky vermin. 

It was your biggest insecurity, feeling unloved. How could you after everything that happened in your life? No family and no friends. The only family you had was this gang and now it was all unraveling and slipping through your fingers. It was falling apart and it left you bleeding on the floor. 

A gasp mixed with a squeak. Chan’s eyes squeezed shut. His fingers were still wrapped around the gun. He didn’t dare turn around to face you and admit what he did. He couldn’t. Deep down, he loved you. You flickered a spark that he thought died out years ago.

He was never one for being a coward, but something changed. You startled him and woke up something that was supposed to lay dead. The feelings for you weren’t supposed to wither and squirm this much. Rat or not, maybe it was just easier to accuse you of something and kill you before a flicker grew into a roaring flame. 

Letting you in was a mistake. Building up a friendship, striking up feelings of something more, it was a pile of kindle that was always meant to burn. He’d always be a monster and you were just a person. Too innocent, too vulnerable, too sweet for someone with his past. 

Your vision clouded as a tear slipped down your cheek. The person you loved most put you here, but you still couldn’t hate him. In fact, maybe you were grateful deep down. You were a bird with a broken wing and never meant to fly. It was better that an animal got to you rather than wither and rot away in the elements. 

The door to the study burst opened. One of the guys rushed inside. You heard him speak, but you couldn’t distinguish who it was. Blood was seeping out so quick and you were growing weaker. 

“What the hell did you do?” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Someone help them!” 

Footsteps rushed towards you. Warm hands touched your chest, but it was too late. Your limbs were weak. They never got to see the last bits of light fade from your eyes. They fluttered shut just before the door burst open. 

“Wake up! Just wake up! Please” 

“Call the doctor!” 

“What did you do? What did you do? What did you do?” 

Someone sobbed. Salted tears mixed with the blood on your shirt. Desperate fingers pushed down to stop the bleeding, but it’d never be enough. Love surrounded you, but you didn’t get to see it for the last time, before your heart stopped. 

Across the way, Chan’s bottom lip quivered. He dropped the gun and it landed with a clatter. Despite the sob that fell from the leader’s chest, they couldn’t find it within themselves to approach him. He collapsed in defeat and curled his hands around his head. The one person he truly loved and cherished, he took them out himself. Your blood on his hands would never be washed away. He thought it’d be easy to take you out, but now, his members would never look at him the same way. 

Eight hearts around the room beating and the final one still bleeding.

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[pansy-picnics]

YESSSSSSSS YES YES GOD. OH MY GODDDDDD. RIPPING MY SHIRT OFF LIKE THE HULK. YOU GET IT OP. I LOVE PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS (Says the aroace guy . Like okay fork found in kitchen cmon now)

No cuz LISTEN. romance and attraction is something that is constantly front in center in society as a whole….its a lot more understood than friendship or familial relationships. so it probably makes SENSE to hugo at least in concept.

Attraction is understood by a lot of people as like a biological instinct (And obviously its more complex than that but thats the most Basic idea thats been held for most of history i think). And hugos definitely been Attracted to people before. I think he kind of just sees it as a nuisance tbh. He just tries to gaslight himself into pretending it isnt there.

But platonic love….you dont have that physical reaction yknow??? I mean ive had what i can describe as platonic “crushes” before but it’s different….It could be different for other people ofc but in my experience platonic love kind of sneaks up on you. You might not even really notice its there. One day you’ll just be looking at someone and you’re like, “oh yeah. This one. Theyre the one. Theyre safe.”

They affect you in little ways. like influencing the way you think or the way you speak and you dont notice until someone points it out. You’ll pick up on words they use and everyday things will make you think of them. ITS JUST. GAH!!! I LOVE PLATONIC LOVE!!

I think platonic love is SUCH an important part of hugo’s general role in the story because like….This isnt his first rodeo remember? Hes done jobs for donella before. Hes probably crushed on a few people before. Maybe even people hes worked with. But clearly its never affected his performance before. none of these crushes have Permanently rewired his brain and this perspective he has of the world.

The reason team radical has such an impact on him is NOT just bc she’s gay for varian. It’s bc ALL OF THEM are the first people who have just Genuinely cared about her, with no ulterior motives, no strings attached, no romantic connotations, no nothing. Theyre the first people she’s actually connected with and felt like she could be herself around. and they’re the first to actually able to counter these mindsets that are so Natural to her- these mindsets that it’s every man for himself, that relationships are all temporary, and that she’s not fundamentally deserving of love. Varian, nuru and yong showed hugo a new perspective on life. ALL OF THEM DID!! NOT JUST VARIAN!!!

Its why platonic varigo is genuinely so important to me and one of the reasons i think varigo are the “best friends first/lovers second” kind of couple. its also why i dont really like them having chemistry like right off the bat. Because like…Them being friends first is the only reason their relationship as it is is even possible. Neither of them really had friends their age before and thats Why they really connect.

if it wasn’t for varian just…being a good friend, and him, nuru and yong all collectively showing hugo this new outlook on life….team radical would have just been another means to an end. Sure maybe hugo would’ve had a little crush on varian or found him attractive, but it wouldn’t have made him like, quit his whole job. He would’ve just done the work and moved on with his life. he wouldn’t have FALLEN IN LOVE like he did. Love and attraction are two different things and hugo didnt just have a crush on varian, he fell in love with him. and he fell in love (platonically, of course) with yong and nuru too.

THATS what changed him!!! Genuine human connection and love!!! It had nothing to do with romance!!! And i feel like people just tend to focus on the yaoi or whatever when like…It means nothing if we aren’t seeing hugo form these bonds with the group as a whole and watching his outlook change as a result! without the core feature of genuine human connection and friendship the yaoi wouldn’t even EXIST!!! 😭😭😭

I especially need more library/betrayal scenes with the whole group bc it genuinely makes me so mad when they’re Just about varigo and nuru and yong are just. Left behind? NOBODY EVER WRITES NURU AND YONG REACTING TO THE BETRAYAL…..NOBODY WRITES THEM HELPING HUGO WHEN VARIAN GETS POSSESSED. THEY’RE JUST. LEFT BEHIND AND THEN THEY SHOW UP AT THE END WHEN THEY HAVE THEIR GROUP HUG OR WHATEVER….SOMETIMES NOT EVEN THAT!!!

IT BREAKS MY HEART BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT JUST SIDE PIECES TO VARIGO!!! 😭😭😭 GAHHH. I NEED MORE TEAM RADICAL JUST ALL BEING BEST FRIENDS AND LOVING EACH OTHER!!!!! I NEED YONG AND NURU TO PLAY A PART IN THESE MAJOR PLOT POINTS TOO!!!!

I feel like we don't talk about how Hugo would be weirded out by the concept of having friends enough. Like we all pretty much agree that Donella, while maybe not being outright abusive, was at least not an amazing parent figure and made Hugo live a life that wasn't super healthy. But I haven't really seen anyone talk about how he probably has never felt platonic love.

I like the idea that it wasn't Varian that convinced Hugo to leave Donella, it was Nuru and Yong.

Hugo would have at least had a crush before, if not an actual relationship, he's aware that liking someone made you want to do stupid stuff, like quit your job, abandon your mother figure, and live with them for the rest of your life, but wanting to do that sort of stuff for someone you have no attraction to whatsoever? Huh?

I just love the idea that while Varian was a huge part in changing Hugo, it took friendship with no hint of romantic connotations to finally win Hugo over.

[amethystarachnid]

Thank you for writing my little Tony story 🤍

If it's not too much, can you write a second part for me please? Tony and reader finding out the baby's gender, Tony surprising her with a beautiful surprise proposal, maybe the other Anvegers can even help 🤍 the marriage and the baby's birth? 🤍🤍🤍 I lobe family man Tony too, it's so cute 🤍🤍🤍

Thank you!

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: it's almost time for the baby's arrival so Tony decides that it's the perfect time to propose, as he drops to one knee you're sure you've found your happy ending,

ᯓ★ TW(s): childbirth

ᯓ★ I love family man Tony so much, matter of fact, I love every character seen as a family man I don't know why lol.

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 baby shower is shaping up to be a bigger event than you ever expected, though you probably should’ve seen it coming. With the Avengers involved, nothing is ever subtle. Tony, of course, is no help in scaling things back. In fact, he’s leaning into the chaos, throwing out extravagant suggestions like hiring live performers or setting up a drone fireworks display. You shoot most of his ideas down, insisting that this is a baby shower, not a red-carpet event.

Still, the excitement is infectious. Natasha takes charge of the planning—she’s surprisingly good at it, efficient and precise, down to the last detail. She ropes Bruce into helping, and the two of them become the only ones who know the baby’s gender. The rest of the team, including you and Tony, are kept in the dark, much to Tony’s annoyance.

“I don’t see why I can’t bribe Banner,” Tony grumbles one afternoon as he paces the kitchen. “He’s a terrible liar, anyway. A few drinks, a little sweet-talking, and he’d spill.”

“Good luck with that,” you reply with a smirk, stirring a cup of tea. “Natasha would kill him if he said anything. And you know she could.”

“Fair point,” Tony concedes, though he still looks annoyed. “Still, I’m calling it now: it’s a girl. She’s going to be brilliant, gorgeous, and way too smart for her own good. Just like her mom.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, really? Because I’m thinking it’s a boy. Stubborn, full of energy, and probably way too much like you.”

“Not possible,” he says with mock seriousness. “There’s only room for one of me in this world.”

Clint chimes in later that evening when the team gathers in the common room, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he munches on a bag of chips. “I’m betting on a boy,” he says, pointing a chip in your direction. “Gotta have someone to teach archery to. Plus, Stark with a son? That’s comedy gold.”

Thor, who’s been helping decorate the living room with streamers and balloons (many of which are Asgardian-sized), disagrees. “A daughter would be most fitting,” he declares, his voice booming. “She will have the strength of her father and the grace of her mother. A true warrior!”

Steve, predictably, tries to stay neutral. “I think you’ll be happy no matter what,” he says diplomatically, though there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looks at Tony. “That said, I wouldn’t mind seeing Stark try to handle a teenage girl someday.”

“God help us,” Natasha mutters with a smirk.

On the day of the baby shower, the compound is transformed. There are decorations everywhere—streamers in pastel pinks and blues, balloons shaped like baby bottles, and a banner reading Welcome, Baby Stark! stretched across the main wall. The table is laden with food, drinks, and an elaborate cake that looks too beautiful to eat. There’s even a pile of gifts in the corner, ranging from practical items like diapers and onesies to absurdly expensive gadgets Tony probably ordered himself.

Natasha and Bruce are the picture of calm, though you know they’ve been coordinating the big reveal for weeks. The two of them exchange knowing looks every time someone tries to guess the baby’s gender, clearly enjoying their role as gatekeepers of the secret.

The main event comes after everyone’s had their fill of food and games, including a hilariously chaotic round of diaper-changing races featuring Steve and Thor. Natasha steps forward, holding a small box wrapped in neutral-colored paper. She taps a spoon against her glass to get everyone’s attention.

“All right, everyone, it’s time,” she says, her tone firm but playful. “Y/N, Tony, come up here.”

You exchange a glance with Tony, who’s grinning like a kid at Christmas, and follow Natasha to the front of the room. Bruce joins her, carrying what looks like a smoke cannon with pastel-colored confetti inside.

“Are we sure Banner knows how to use that?” Tony whispers to you, earning a chuckle.

Natasha ignores him and gestures for Bruce to hand the cannon to Tony. “This is simple,” she says. “On the count of three, you twist it. The confetti will tell you the gender. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tony says, his grip tightening on the cannon. He looks at you, his grin softening into something tender. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready,” you reply, your heart pounding.

The room buzzes with anticipation as Natasha begins the countdown. “Three… two… one!”

Tony twists the cannon, and an explosion of pink confetti fills the air, raining down in a sparkling shower. The room erupts into cheers, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the cloud of pink with wide eyes.

“A girl,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly as the reality sinks in. “We’re having a girl.”

Tony turns to you, his grin splitting his face as he pulls you into his arms. “I told you,” he says, laughing as he spins you around. “I knew it!”

You’re laughing now too, tears streaming down your cheeks as the team gathers around, offering congratulations and playful jabs. Thor claps Tony on the back hard enough to make him stumble, while Clint pretends to look disappointed but quickly admits, “She’s probably gonna be cooler than a boy anyway.”

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms. “Told you it was worth the wait.”

As the excitement settles and the confetti begins to drift to the floor, Tony kneels in front of you, his hands resting gently on your growing belly. He looks up at you, his expression soft and filled with a kind of awe that takes your breath away.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “It’s official now. You’ve got one hell of a team waiting for you out here. But you know what? Your mom and I? We’re the lucky ones.”

Your heart swells, and you reach down to run your fingers through his hair. In that moment, surrounded by your friends, your family, and the overwhelming love in Tony’s eyes, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

The nursery preparation becomes a joint project, though you suspect Tony might be using it as an excuse to turn every design meeting into a spectacle. It starts with a simple conversation over breakfast about colors and furniture, but within hours, Tony’s drawing up blueprints for a room so high-tech it could double as a lab.

“Tony,” you say, leaning over his shoulder as he sketches a design for a mobile with holographic planets orbiting a glowing star. “This is a nursery, not the International Space Station.”

He turns to you with an exaggerated look of shock. “Why settle for ordinary when our baby can have the universe in her room? Imagine it—she’ll look up and be inspired every night.”

You can’t help but smile, even as you roll your eyes. “She’s not going to care about any of this for at least a few years. Let’s focus on a crib that doesn’t look like it’s from the future, okay?”

“Compromise,” he says with a smirk. “The crib will be traditional. The rest? Cutting-edge Stark tech.”

Choosing the color scheme turns into its own adventure. You veto pink almost immediately, wanting something more neutral and calming. “What about soft blues and grays?” you suggest one afternoon as you hold up a paint swatch.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Blues and grays? What is she, a baby or a Zen monk? Let’s go bold—deep purples, maybe some gold accents.”

“She’s a baby,” you remind him with a laugh. “She needs soothing, not a nightclub.”

Eventually, you settle on a compromise: a soft starry theme with muted blues, silvers, and whites, accented by golden stars and constellations painted along the walls. Tony insists on installing a custom ceiling projector that will display a moving galaxy, complete with twinkling stars and nebulae, for bedtime. You draw the line at installing an AI assistant in the room—at least for now.

The naming debate, however, proves to be even more challenging.

It starts casually one evening as you both lounge on the couch, flipping through baby name books. “Okay,” you say, running your finger down a list. “How about something classic? Elizabeth? Grace?”

Tony shakes his head. “Too stuffy. She’s going to be a Stark; she needs something unique. How about Nova?”

You pause, considering it. “Nova’s not bad,” you admit. “But it feels… incomplete.”

Tony grins. “Well, it’s lightyears ahead of Grace.”

You toss a pillow at him, laughing. “Fine. What else have you got, Mr. Genius?”

He leans back, pretending to think deeply. “Aurora. You know, like the northern lights.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Beautiful, but maybe a bit too Disney princess?”

The conversation goes on like this for days. Tony throws out names like Vega, Lyra, and Andromeda, while you try to steer him toward something more grounded. Neither of you seems willing to budge, though secretly you both enjoy the banter.

It’s during one of these discussions, late at night, that the perfect name finally emerges.

You’re lying in bed, the lights dimmed, and Tony’s hand rests protectively over your belly as he rambles about constellations. “Sirius is too much,” he says, more to himself than to you. “But it’d be cool if we could tie it back to something celestial. Something meaningful.”

You hum in agreement, half-asleep, when a thought strikes you. “Stella,” you say softly, testing the name on your tongue.

Tony freezes, then sits up slightly to look at you. “Stella,” he repeats, his voice thoughtful. “Latin for ‘star.’ Simple, beautiful, and meaningful. I love it.”

You smile, your heart warming at his reaction. “You really like it?”

“I don’t just like it,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s perfect. Stella Stark. Our little star.”

The next morning, you tell the rest of the team about the name, and everyone agrees it’s fitting. Thor, especially, is thrilled. “A name worthy of the cosmos!” he declares, raising his coffee mug like a goblet.

Even Clint, who usually teases Tony at every opportunity, nods in approval. “Stella’s solid,” he says. “Classy, but not pretentious. Good pick.”

As the nursery nears completion and Stella’s name starts appearing on everything—from personalized blankets to a tiny plaque above the crib—you find yourself growing more excited with each passing day. The walls are painted, the furniture is assembled, and Tony’s holographic mobile is, admittedly, a work of art.

One evening, as you both stand in the finished nursery, Tony wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “You know,” he murmurs, looking around at the room, “we might’ve gone a little overboard.”

“A little,” you agree, though you can’t help but smile.

“But she’s worth it,” he adds, his voice soft as he rests his forehead against yours.

“She is,” you whisper, your heart full.

As the galaxy projector casts a soft glow of stars across the ceiling, you know that Stella is already surrounded by more love and wonder than you ever could’ve imagined.

The shift in behavior starts subtly. At first, you think you’re imagining it—the way Natasha ends phone calls the moment you enter the room or how Clint suddenly has a reason to leave anytime you try to ask what he and Tony were whispering about. Even Steve, who’s usually a beacon of honesty, seems unusually tight-lipped when you catch him and Bruce exchanging cryptic looks during a mission debrief.

Tony, of course, is no better. If anything, he’s the most suspicious of them all. Normally, he shares every detail of his day with you, but lately, he’s been “working late” more often than usual. When you ask what he’s working on, his answers are evasive, laced with a nonchalance that you don’t buy for a second.

“Just tweaking some tech,” he says one evening, typing furiously on a holographic keyboard that he closes the moment you approach. “You know, the usual.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “The usual doesn’t usually involve secretive meetings with the entire team or you hiding your screens from me.”

Tony looks up, flashing you one of his patented grins. “Paranoid much, sweetheart? Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

You roll your eyes, but you let it slide—for now.

The day of the proposal dawns like any other. You wake up to the sound of Tony humming softly beside you, his hand resting protectively over your belly, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of him. At seven months pregnant, your body feels heavier and more tired than usual, but Tony’s been nothing if not attentive—sometimes to the point of hovering. Still, there’s something in his gaze this morning, a kind of nervous energy that makes you suspicious.

“What’s with the grin?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“No grin,” he says, though the corners of his mouth betray him. “Just appreciating how stunning you look, as always.”

“Mmhmm,” you murmur, giving him a skeptical look. “If you’re planning something, Stark, I’ll figure it out.”

He smirks, leaning down to kiss your belly. “No secrets here, baby girl. Daddy’s just got work to do today.”

That afternoon, Natasha convinces you to go out for some “girl time,” which in itself feels suspicious. Nat rarely suggests spa days or shopping trips, but she waves off your questions with a smirk.

“Can’t a friend treat her very pregnant bestie to some pampering?” she says, steering you toward the door. “Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do while Tony tinkers in the lab.”

By the time you return to the compound, you’re relaxed but even more curious. The hallways are quiet—too quiet—and the usual buzz of activity is strangely absent. As Natasha leads you toward the common area, your suspicions grow.

“What’s going on?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. “Why do I feel like I’m walking into an ambush?”

Natasha just smirks, tugging you forward. “You’ll see.”

The doors to the common area slide open, and your breath catches. The room is transformed. Soft, glowing lights hang from the ceiling like stars, casting a warm, ethereal glow. A pathway lined with rose petals leads to the center of the room, where Tony stands in a perfectly tailored suit, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. Behind him, the rest of the Avengers stand in a loose semicircle, all wearing knowing smiles.

“Tony,” you whisper, your heart pounding as Natasha gives you a gentle nudge forward.

He takes a step toward you, his usual confidence tempered by the kind of vulnerability he rarely shows. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world fades away.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “You’ve already given me so much. You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and in just a couple of months, you’re going to give me the greatest gift of all—our daughter.”

You feel tears welling up as he continues, his hand reaching out to take yours. “But before she gets here, I want to give you something, too. I want to give you my heart, my name, my everything. I want us to be a family, officially, because… well, because I love you more than words can ever say.”

He drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a dazzling engagement ring. The diamond sparkles like a star, and you can’t help but gasp.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice soft but firm, “will you marry me?”

For a moment, you’re too overwhelmed to speak. Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod, a laugh bubbling up through your emotions. “Yes,” you finally manage, your voice breaking. “Yes, Tony, of course!”

Tony’s grin is so wide it looks like it might split his face. He slides the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling slightly, and then he’s standing, pulling you into his arms. He holds you close, burying his face in your hair as you cling to him.

“You’re crying,” you murmur against his shoulder, your voice teasing despite your own tears.

“I am not,” he protests, though his voice wavers. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glistening. “Okay, maybe a little. But don’t tell anyone, all right? I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You laugh, wiping at your own tears as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Behind you, the Avengers erupt into cheers and applause, Clint letting out a loud wolf whistle while Thor raises his hammer in triumph.

“About time!” Clint calls out, grinning from ear to ear.

Natasha smirks, her arms crossed. “Told you she’d say yes.”

Later that evening, as you sit together in the nursery, the engagement ring glittering on your finger and Tony’s hand resting over your belly, you can’t help but marvel at how far you’ve come. He looks at you like you’re his entire world, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like nothing could ever go wrong.

“You’re happy,” you say softly, studying his face.

Tony looks at you, his expression filled with a love so deep it takes your breath away. “I’m more than happy,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “You and Stella… you’re everything I never knew I needed.”

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder as the baby kicks gently against his hand. “We love you too,” you whisper, and in that moment, the universe feels just right.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day starts out completely normal—or at least as normal as life gets when you’re living with Tony Stark and the Avengers. You’re lounging on the couch, rubbing your enormous belly, when you feel the first contraction. It’s mild, more like a cramp than anything else, but enough to make you pause mid-sentence while you’re trying to convince Tony that the name Stella is not negotiable for her middle name.

“Everything okay?” Tony asks, looking up from where he’s fiddling with one of his many gadgets.

You nod, brushing it off. “Yeah, just… I think she’s practicing her escape plan.”

Tony chuckles. “Smart kid. Of course, she’s my daughter. She’s already planning ahead.”

You roll your eyes but let the moment pass. That is until another contraction hits—not unbearable, but definitely noticeable. You wince, shifting in your seat.

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Okay, that wasn’t just a practice run. What’s going on?”

You try to play it cool. “I think it might be starting, but it’s fine. First labors take a while. No need to—”

But before you can finish, Tony is up and moving like the house is on fire. “FRIDAY! Get the car! Clear a path! Call Banner! Wait, no, call Bruce AND the hospital! Get Nat to pack a bag—do we have a bag? Where’s the bag?”

You laugh despite yourself, waving a hand to calm him down. “Tony, relax. I’m not even sure it’s—”

Tony is already pacing, pulling his phone out to make calls. “Relax? RELAX? You’re about to bring an entire human into the world, and you want me to relax? You know who doesn’t relax? Tony Stark. I plan. I execute.” He points to your belly. “That tiny genius in there is counting on me!”

Another contraction interrupts your attempt to reassure him, this one stronger than before. You grip the edge of the couch, exhaling sharply. Tony’s eyes go wide, and his face pales.

“That’s it,” he declares. “We’re going now. FRIDAY, where’s the car?”

By the time you get to the hospital, Tony’s nerves are a full-blown circus. He’s barking orders at the nurses, double-checking every piece of equipment they wheel past, and generally acting like a man whose entire world is on the brink of chaos.

“Are those sterilized?” he asks one poor nurse, gesturing to a tray of instruments. “Because I know a guy who can check for microscopic contaminants.”

“Tony,” you groan from the wheelchair they’ve put you in. “Let the professionals do their job.”

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “Right. Sorry. Carry on.”

Once you’re settled in the delivery room, the contractions intensify, and so does Tony’s panic. He’s pacing again, alternating between squeezing your hand and apologizing for squeezing your hand too hard.

“Why is this taking so long?” he mutters, glancing at the clock. “Is there a way to, I don’t know, speed this up? I mean, we’ve got science, right? Lasers? Something?”

Your labor nurse gives him a patient smile. “Babies come on their own time, Mr. Stark.”

Tony points at her, dead serious. “I’ll have you know I’ve streamlined multi-billion-dollar manufacturing processes. I could totally streamline—”

“Tony!” you snap, gripping his hand through another contraction. “If you don’t stop talking about lasers and streamlining, I’m going to throw you out of this room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says quickly, wincing as your grip tightens. “You’re doing great, by the way. Absolutely phenomenal. Ten out of ten.”

As the hours pass, Tony alternates between being overly helpful and hilariously unhelpful. At one point, he tries to "coach" you through the contractions, repeating advice he clearly Googled five minutes earlier.

“Breathe, babe,” he says, crouching next to you. “In through the nose, out through the—OW!” He yelps as you squeeze his hand, your patience wearing thin.

“I am breathing!” you growl. “You breathe!”

“Right, got it,” he says, shaking out his hand. “I’ll breathe quieter.”

By the time you’re ready to push, Tony looks like he’s aged ten years. His hair is a mess, his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen, and he’s nervously chewing on his bottom lip as if he’s the one doing all the hard work.

“Okay,” the doctor says. “It’s time to meet your baby. Dad, are you ready?”

Tony blinks, his face going pale again. “Wait, me? What am I supposed to do?”

“Just stay next to me and try not to pass out,” you deadpan, glaring at him through gritted teeth.

The actual delivery feels like a blur, but Tony’s reactions are crystal clear. As soon as Stella’s first cry fills the room, he freezes, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief. The doctor places her on your chest, and you look down at the tiny, wriggling bundle of perfection. Tears stream down your face as you cradle her, overwhelmed with love.

Tony leans over, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s afraid to touch her. “She’s… she’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

You glance up at him, smiling through your tears. “She is.”

He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as if trying to fight back tears of his own. “I’m not crying,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… dusty in here.”

“Sure, Tony,” you say, laughing softly. “Whatever you say.”

He finally reaches out, gently running a finger along Stella’s tiny hand. When she grips his finger, his face lights up like you’ve never seen before.

“Hi, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “It’s me. Your dad. I’m the guy who’s going to spoil you rotten and probably embarrass you in front of all your friends someday.”

You laugh again, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. As Tony leans down to kiss your forehead, then Stella’s, you know this moment—this messy, chaotic, perfect moment—is one you’ll never forget.

The ride home is surprisingly smooth, considering Tony’s usual flair for drama. He insists on driving, despite your gentle protests, and the way he handles the car like it’s made of glass is almost endearing. Stella, snug in her carrier, sleeps through the whole thing, her tiny face scrunched in a way that makes your heart ache with love.

“Are you sure she’s breathing?” Tony asks for the third time, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, Tony,” you reply, trying not to laugh. “Babies sleep. It’s kind of their thing.”

He huffs, clearly unsatisfied. “Well, it’s nerve-wracking. I’m used to things that come with a manual, not ones that just… exist and rely on me not to screw up.”

“She’ll be fine,” you reassure him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The Avengers are waiting when you arrive at the compound, their faces pressed against the windows like eager kids waiting for Santa. Even Clint, who normally pretends to be too cool for this sort of thing, looks uncharacteristically excited.

The moment you step inside, carrying Stella in her carrier, they descend like a swarm.

“Oh my God, she’s so tiny!” Natasha coos, her usual stoicism replaced with pure, unfiltered awe. “Look at her little hands.”

Steve grins, leaning down to get a better look. “She’s beautiful,” he says warmly, his voice tinged with a kind of reverence.

“She’s definitely got your nose, Y/N,” Bruce chimes in, smiling shyly. “Lucky kid.”

Even Clint, who’d joked for months about how he wasn’t going to fawn over “just another Stark,” can’t help but soften. “She’s pretty cute,” he admits, though his grin betrays his attempt at nonchalance.

“Cute?” Tony cuts in, feigning offense. “Try perfect. Absolute masterpiece. My finest work.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “She’s not one of your inventions, Tony.”

“No,” he agrees, his gaze softening as he looks at Stella. “She’s better.”

Thor, meanwhile, looms in the background, looking uncharacteristically nervous. You catch him shifting his weight from foot to foot, his brows furrowed as he watches the others coo and fuss over Stella.

“Thor,” you call gently, motioning him over. “Do you want to meet her?”

He hesitates, his usual bravado replaced with uncertainty. “I am unsure,” he admits, his voice low. “She is so small. What if I… break her?”

Tony snorts. “Relax, Point Break. She’s sturdier than she looks.”

Thor’s eyes widen. “Are you certain? For I have been told I am… exuberant in my movements.”

You can’t help but smile. “You’ll be fine. Just be gentle.”

Carefully, you unbuckle Stella from her carrier and place her in Thor’s massive hands. He cradles her like she’s made of glass, his expression a mix of awe and terror.

“She is… radiant,” he says after a moment, his voice soft. “A tiny warrior in the making.”

Stella squirms, letting out a small gurgle, and Thor immediately panics. “What is this sound? Is she displeased? Have I offended her?”

You laugh, taking her back before his nerves get the better of him. “She’s just waking up. You did great, Thor.”

He exhales in relief, looking visibly proud despite his earlier fear. “Then I shall strive to earn her favor, as a worthy uncle should.”

As the evening wears on, the Avengers take turns holding Stella, each of them surprisingly adept in their own way. Natasha rocks her gently, whispering something soft and sweet in Russian. Steve looks completely at ease, cradling her with a quiet confidence that makes you wonder if he’s done this before. Bruce hums softly, his gentle demeanor soothing Stella when she stirs.

Clint, ever the showman, gets her to grab his finger and immediately declares, “She likes me best. Sorry, everyone else.”

Even Thor eventually works up the courage to hold her again, this time with less fear and more awe.

Tony, meanwhile, hovers nearby, alternating between beaming with pride and trying to direct everyone on the proper way to hold her.

“Support her head,” he says for the fifth time, gesturing like he’s leading a workshop. “And don’t jostle her too much. She’s had a big day.”

“Tony,” you say, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “She’s fine. Look at her—she’s surrounded by love.”

He glances around the room, taking in the sight of his teammates—his family—cooing and fussing over Stella. His shoulders relax, and a small, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“Yeah,” he says softly, slipping an arm around your waist. “She’s going to be okay.”

You lean into him, watching as Stella lets out a tiny yawn, completely unfazed by the chaos around her. In this moment, surrounded by your unconventional but loving family, you know she’s going to grow up in the best possible way.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day is perfect—blue skies, warm sunlight, and the hum of excitement in the air as friends and family gather in the garden of the Stark estate for the wedding. You stand in the bridal suite, adjusting the lace sleeves of your gown, the soft fabric hugging your body comfortably enough to accommodate the postpartum changes you’re still embracing. In your arms, Stella squirms, her tiny hands tugging at the delicate veil trailing over your shoulder.

“Mommy’s trying to look fancy,” you murmur, kissing her chubby cheek. “Try not to drool too much on the dress, okay?”

Natasha appears in the doorway, dressed elegantly in a flowing gown but still managing to radiate her usual aura of cool confidence. “Ready to knock Tony off his feet?” she asks with a smirk.

You laugh nervously. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Natasha leans in to take a peek at Stella, who’s now gnawing on her fingers. “And what about you, little one? Ready to steal the show?”

“She’s been ready since birth,” you say, smiling fondly. “I just hope she doesn’t start screaming halfway down the aisle.”

The music starts—soft, romantic, and unmistakably orchestrated to perfection because, of course, Tony insisted on hiring the best string quartet money could buy. You step out into the aisle, holding Stella securely against your chest.

All eyes are on you, but your gaze locks instantly with Tony’s. He’s standing at the altar in a sharp tuxedo, his hair immaculately styled, but it’s his expression that floors you. His eyes are shining, his lips trembling slightly as he takes you in—his fiancée, his daughter in your arms, walking toward him like a vision straight out of his dreams.

When you’re halfway down the aisle, you catch him discreetly wiping at his eyes, though his attempt to play it cool is utterly transparent. You can’t help but smile.

“Crying already?” you tease softly as you reach the altar.

Tony’s voice cracks as he replies, “It’s allergies. Don’t get used to it.”

The officiant clears his throat, gesturing for everyone to sit. You pass Stella to Natasha, who holds her with practiced ease, but not before Tony sneaks a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “Don’t cause too much trouble for Aunt Nat, okay?” he whispers.

The ceremony is beautiful, filled with laughter, a few tears, and vows that manage to be both heartfelt and hilariously Tony.

“I promise to always make you laugh,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “To build you anything you need—even if it’s just a better coffee maker. And I promise that no matter how big our family gets or how crazy life becomes, you’ll always be the center of my world.”

You smile, your heart full as you reply, “And I promise to keep you grounded—even when you’re flying. To stand by you, even when you’re being insufferable. And to love you, completely, for the genius, ridiculous, wonderful man that you are.”

The guests cheer when you kiss, and you can hear Clint shouting something about “finally making an honest man out of Stark,” but you’re too caught up in the moment to care. Tony’s hands are on your waist, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispers, “You’re stuck with me now, Mrs. Stark.”

The reception is lively, filled with laughter and champagne toasts, but the true star of the evening is Stella. At six months old, she’s the smallest guest but easily the most adored. She’s passed from one Avenger to the next, each of them taking turns cooing and playing with her. Steve lets her grab at his finger, grinning like a proud uncle. Bruce gently bounces her on his knee, her giggles drawing smiles from everyone around. Even Thor takes a turn, holding her aloft and declaring her “the mightiest of babes” before you quickly retrieve her, worried he might throw her like Mjolnir.

Despite the joy of the day, you and Tony find yourselves constantly glancing toward wherever Stella is. When you see her reaching for a cupcake, her tiny hand almost toppling the entire dessert tower, you excuse yourself mid-conversation to intercept.

“She’s got your appetite,” you say, placing Stella in her high chair and handing her a safer option—a teething biscuit.

“And your stubbornness,” Tony adds, crouching next to you to adjust her little headband. He kisses her forehead before looking up at you, his expression soft. “We did pretty good, didn’t we?”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him. “We did amazing.”

As the night winds down, you dance with Tony under the fairy lights, Stella dozing peacefully in Natasha’s arms nearby.

“Today was perfect,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

Tony pulls you closer, his hand warm on your back. “Because of you,” he murmurs. “You and Stella—you’re my whole world.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love. “And you’re ours.”

The music swells, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you in your own little world, the rest of the party fading into the background.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Four years later

Four years later, the Stark household is as lively as ever. Stella, now a spirited and endlessly curious four-year-old, is the undeniable star of the compound. She’s sharp like her dad, determined like her mom, and, to everyone’s ongoing astonishment, utterly enamored with Thor.

“Where is Uncle Thor?” Stella demands one morning, her tiny hands on her hips in a perfect mimicry of your stance when you're irritated. “He promised we’d go find worms for the garden!”

You chuckle as you rest a hand on your growing belly. “Honey, Uncle Thor’s busy with work. He can’t always come running every time you call.”

“Why not?” she counters, pouting. “He’s the Mighty Thor. He’s not too busy for me.”

You shake your head, smiling. “You’ve got your daddy’s charm, you know that?”

Tony walks in just in time to hear the exchange, a cup of coffee in one hand and a slightly sour expression on his face. “I don’t know what he’s done to brainwash her, but I don’t like it,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your cheek before ruffling Stella’s hair.

“Uncle Thor is the best!” Stella declares, throwing her arms up dramatically. “He’s teaching me how to lift Mjolnir!”

“Is he now?” Tony says, narrowing his eyes. “I thought I told him no godly powers until after kindergarten.”

Later that afternoon, Thor arrives as promised, and Stella runs to greet him, her excitement so infectious even Tony can’t entirely suppress a grin. Thor sweeps her up, spinning her around like she weighs nothing.

“Ah, my favorite little warrior!” Thor booms. “Are you ready to brave the wilderness?”

“Yes!” Stella squeals, clutching onto him tightly. “Let’s go, Uncle Thor!”

“Wilderness?” Tony interjects, crossing his arms. “You mean my backyard?”

Thor just grins. “Every great adventure starts somewhere, Stark.”

As they head outside, you and Tony watch from the window, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders.

“I can’t believe she picked him as her favorite,” Tony says with mock despair. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“A magic hammer?” you suggest, smirking.

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Unbelievable. After all I’ve done for her.”

“Don’t worry,” you tease, patting your belly. “Maybe this little guy will be Team Dad.”

Tony’s face softens immediately, his free hand coming to rest gently on your growing bump. “He better be,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss it. “Otherwise, I’ll have to build another suit—Baby Iron Man Edition.”

Stella eventually drags Thor back inside, both of them covered in dirt but grinning like co-conspirators. Thor greets your belly with a reverent nod, placing a hand on it like he’s bestowing a blessing. “He stirs with strength already,” he declares. “A future warrior.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “He’s not even born yet, Point Break. Let’s not start handing out titles.”

Stella crawls onto the couch next to you, her small hands carefully pressing against your belly. “Mommy, when will the baby come out?”

“In a few months, sweetie,” you say, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “He needs to grow a little more before he’s ready.”

“Will he be bigger than me?”

“Not at first,” Tony interjects, scooping her up onto his lap. “But don’t worry, Stella. You’ll always be the boss. It’s your job to teach him everything you know.”

Stella beams at that, puffing out her chest. “I’m going to be the best big sister ever.”

Tony chuckles, kissing her on the forehead. “I have no doubt.”

The rest of the day is filled with the usual chaos—Stella insisting she help with dinner (which mostly means spilling flour everywhere), Thor recounting dramatic tales of Asgardian battles to an enraptured audience, and Tony tinkering in his lab while occasionally glancing over to check on you.

Later that night, as you’re tucking Stella into bed, she clings to your arm, her wide eyes full of curiosity.

“Mommy?” she asks softly. “Do you think the baby will like Uncle Thor too?”

You laugh, stroking her hair. “Probably. But I think he’s going to like you the most.”

Her face lights up, and she snuggles deeper into her blankets. “Good. I’ll share Uncle Thor with him, but only a little.”

After kissing her goodnight, you return to the living room, where Tony is waiting on the couch, a glass of sparkling water in hand for you.

“Is she down?” he asks, pulling you gently into his side as you sink onto the cushions.

“Out like a light,” you reply, taking the glass. “She was asking if the baby will like Thor.”

Tony groans, tipping his head back dramatically. “That man is a menace.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “You know you love how happy he makes her.”

Tony’s arm tightens around you, his voice softening. “Yeah, I do. But you know what makes me happiest?”

“What?”

“This,” he says, resting his hand on your bump again. “All of us. Together.”

You smile, your heart full as you lean into him. “Me too.”

[aziraphales-library]

hello!!!! i was wondering if you have any fem-presenting aziraphale recs? :) i adore her very much and would love to read more fics about her!

Hi! We have a #female aziraphale tag, so do check that out. Here are more fics to add...

On Your Doorstep by miss_minnelli (E)

“Don’t you think it would be easier to already have a kid before you fall in love?” Crowley asked. “What?” “If you already had a kid, and then you started dating your ideal person, you wouldn’t have to worry about all the drama and hardship of having a kid together and that relationship wouldn’t be tainted.” Zira raised her eyebrows. “So you’re saying you’d rather have kids with someone that you’re not that romantically interested in and then what, break up with them for your dream person?” ... Zira and Crowley, friends since university, are the last two single people in their group of friends. Neither wants to be part of one of those couples whose kids destroy their relationships, so instead of waiting for their perfect matches, Zira and Crowley decide to platonically have a baby together. 

Honeysuckle & Heat Waves by pilatesandpinot (E)

Ezera Fell has returned to the town where she’d spent her summers growing up – seaside Tadfield, where the slogan is “Everyday is a Holiday” and the perfect escape for a recent divorcee like herself. But she isn’t just here for holiday or to “get her groove back”; she’s inherited her late aunt Agnes Nutter's bed and breakfast and is determined to restore it to its former glory. She’s consulted the help of the best gardener in town, except there’s one issue: he’s Anthony Crowley, the same man she serendipitously had a one-night stand with while on holiday in Paris. Will the sparks fly now that they’ve been reunited, or fizzle out?

Against Expectations by Blue_Sparkle, summerofspock (E)

After being pressured by their families into a marriage neither of them want, Aziraphale and Crowley resign themselves to an unfulfilling life together. For Aziraphale that means trying to be the dutiful wife she was always taught to be and for Crowley it means hiding an important part of who he is.

Star of the Wooded Mountain by jamgrl (T)

Going back to camp shouldn’t have been hard. Yeah, okay, there was the gender-queer thing and the whole, uh, gendered cabin situation. And, yeah, being a counselor wasn’t going to be the same as being a camper. But Tony loved everything else about camp. Tony loved the woods and the creek and the s’mores. Mostly, though, Tony loved Azira. And they were afraid. That they would be a bad counselor, that Azira would stop liking them. Twelve weeks was a long time, and Tony didn’t know if their life was going to fall together or fall apart.

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

Within These Castle Walls by christi_writes (E)

Victorian AU. A celebration at an aristocrat’s castle turns deadly with a murder most foul. Paranormal encounters at every dark turn, humans going carnal left and right, and if that stupid Duke puts his hands on Aziraphale one more bloody time, Crowley was going to lose it. -Or- Circa 1880's Victorian Era. Crowley's just woken up from his century nap and the world has changed, including Aziraphale.

- Mod D