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letsbangts · 2 days ago

Text

tell me what to do || jjk

⤷ summary: when the familiar becomes unfamiliar what do you do

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 3.4k

⟶ genre: angst, established relationship au, breakup au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, big argument, talking about breaking up, the blame game, basically misunderstanding due to miscommunication

⟶ warnings: explicit language

a/n: once again, this a very old piece I polished up, okay so this was my second piece of work so read with caution. as you can guess it is based on shinee’s tell me what to do because I was absolutely obsessed with the song so I used the lyrics as a guideline for writing, I incorporated the lyrics into the story. let me know what you think i really appreciate feedback :) & recommend a song if you’d like and i’ll write a scenario with it like i did with this song)

masterlist

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

these days, i don’t know, i don’t know you.

you look like you gave up on a lot of things

but i hear your silent scream

I sit at the dining table drinking tea in my home - our home but lately nothing seems like ours anymore. It feels like there never was an ours, never an us. I don’t even need to sense it, I can see it. It’s as though I don’t know him anymore. He looks like he gave up on a lot of things, and like he gave up on us. I can almost hear him silently screaming for an end, our end.

lovers without extreme development

is this the losing hand that time has placed?

we haven’t ended it but it’s already over

He walks through the doorframe fully dressed ready for his day while still sporting his messy bedhead that he somehow manages to make look angelic. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed, I still see his beauty and that’s something I don’t think could ever change. Because that is what he is a beauty inside and out and that can’t simply disappear.

He greets me with a gentle kiss on the forehead, a soft “good morning” and a soft smile. We’ve been like this for a while now, stuck in this certain level of interaction almost a routine. Like lovers without any extreme development, without any growth in our relationship if you can even call it that anymore.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask a bit apprehensively.

He picks up the coffeepot, while avoiding any slight piece of eye contact and pours himself a cup with the coffee I made for him, just another part of our routine. I’ve always hated coffee, its dull blackness, the bitter taste, the way it leaves a stain, how the smell lingers, and how it keeps you awake. But after Jungkook that view changed for me, its dull blackness suddenly started reminding me of Jungkook’s dark dreamy eyes, the bitter taste of it reminded me of his lips as that was my only intake of it, and those stains it left was warmth around my heart, the smell was like being engulfed in his arms, and it allowed me and him to be up spending more hours together. In a way, coffee was like a representation of our love.

However, that love has turned black and bitter just like the coffee in his mug. The sweet smiles we always shared and the bright laughs that used to be heard between us vanished. He vanished, pulled away and it was too late to try to pull him back.

“Mhm,” he replies nodding while taking a sip, and like our love, it disappears as he swallows it down.

I nod with him and look down at my hands wrapped around my mug. Is this the losing hand that time has placed? Were we just doomed to keep repeating the same routine with each other in denial, in silence similar to the one we are currently sitting in a few metres apart while we are living in different worlds away from one another? We haven’t ended it but it’s already over. We were already over.

He refuses to have conversations with me when before no one could ever shut us up. Instead of constantly messing around to get a smile out of each other, he always seems to be at a safe distance away from me.

there’s a knot that can’t be untied

in front of us

As the bottoms of both our cups are revealed, so is our obvious stunt to keep a conversation from starting. Jungkook sets his mug in the sink and approaches me, and with just those movements my heart races.

“Well I’m going to head off okay?”, he stares at me with an expression I struggle to read…it’s almost…apologetic.

“Yeah, I need to start getting ready anyway,” I say.

“Okay then I guess I’ll see you later,” he says like it's a question while picking up his keys and approaching the door. As if he is unsure we will return to each other as if we are not one another's home.

I hum in agreement and just as his hand is about to touch the knob. I realise he forgot, one of the things that I assumed had turned into second nature for us has slipped out of his head. Now fearing that I could be the next thing to slip out of his head or even worse slip out of his life.

“Jungkook?” I call out.

He turns almost too quickly like he has been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

“Yeah?” he turns with wide eyes.

I give him a look, a look that speaks words only he could understand.

“Ah,” he sighs approaching me.

He cups my face with two hands, hands that are all too familiar but feel like they belong to a stranger at the same time.

He gives me the kiss I had reminded him of. It isn't necessarily part of our routine but something we have always done. It was always our sign of love to the other before we headed out into the world, a reminder of our love.

A reminder I think is much needed for us both.

He pulls away still holding my face “Sorry” he says and this time the apologetic look in his eyes is all too clear matching his voice.

But as I hear his words his ‘sorry’ seems to be for a different reason than just forgetting to kiss me before leaving the house. But without thinking more I just let it go.

“It’s okay. Get going now or you’ll be late.” I laugh softly and with one last kiss, he’s out the door.

There’s a knot that can’t be untied in front of us, both knowing that we should let go, that we should kiss goodbye one last time and both walk out of that door and go our separate ways for good. But that is easier said than done.

Jungkook and I both well aware of the fall in our relationship are also conscious of the love that will forever remain between us. The history between us is far too much for us to walk away. To take five years of memories and experiences with a person you’ve grown with so much that they have become an attachment to your life, to you as a person is an unimaginable pain that we would both rather avoid.

It is also scary, Jungkook is the one thing I remember having through everything, he is essentially a part of me. The thought of becoming one person again is something I never pictured having to do again. In all of my plans for myself, and for the future he is right there beside me. I have become accustomed to considering things for two people I couldn’t imagine just worrying about me, one person.

But as I consider what is right for the two of us all I can think of is that maybe we were better off as two separate people.

you don’t tell me but you want me to know

you think that you only gave the words you threw at me

because you’re too used to me

As the day comes to a close I hear the door open and footsteps follow. The sound I used to anticipate now makes me tense. Nevertheless, once the owner of those steps and so much more turns the corner, my lips can’t help but leap into a smile that’s both relieved and nervous.

Jungkook takes off his shoes and takes a seat beside me, with yet a space once again between us.

“Hey,” he breathes out as he settles into the couch.

I slightly hesitate, “Hey”

We sit in silence but hear everything that wants to be said. An invisible weight piling up on our shoulders, an awkwardness that has become usual between us. So I finally broke it and said it. The moment we never believed would come or tried to avoid finally came.

“L-look Jungkook," I take a deep breath and continue, "we both know what has happened between us-“

“Ye-Wait, what?” he interrupts, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, it's time we finally faced it, we’ve run our course. I supposed our time together was only supposed to be this long.”

“What are you talking about?-“

This time it is me who interrupts.

“It's just hard for me to let go of you, you just mean so much to me but I can’t control how you feel.”

“Huh? How do I feel? What do you mean? What are you even talking about right now?" he rushes out.

“It's okay you don’t have to keep silent like you’re keeping some secret from me, I know. You’ve lost feelings for me”

“No, you’re not listening to me-“

“Kookie, it's okay I’m a big girl I’ve broken up with a guy before.”

“Break up?", his voice panicked, "Woah just listen to me for one second, will you? Holy shit!”

Once again we sit in silence except this time I can’t hear the silent words waiting to be said.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You think you know but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about not even close.”

“I-I thought-“ I stutter out eyes widened.

“Yeah exactly, you thought. Or is that what you want? Do you want to break up?” he asks staring me directly in my eyes, his voice much softer with apprehension.

“I want to make things easier for you,” I reply in a whisper head lowered as I fiddle with my hands in my lap.

He gives me a look, a look as if I have just said something impossible to comprehend. We were both unaware of what had been happening between us for months. It's like he has become so used to the act we put on to ignore our downfall that he forgot it was an act.

“Easier? " he scoffs a laugh with zero humour, "Is breaking up something easy for you?” he argues back.

The fact that he was going to sit there and continue to play this game even after I called it out sparked an emotion inside of me and the one that decided to come out was anger.

“Oh, come on Jungkook! We both know you checked out on us a long time ago.”

His eyes widen and then he also snaps.

“Me? I checked out, are you being fucking serious right now? I know I have pulled away a bit but you didn’t give me any sign to do otherwise!”

“Are you seriously turning this on me right now?” I snapped back with a newfound boldness to defend myself instead of my initial plan to make this an easy conversation for him. For us.

“Well, I’m not going to blame myself, even though that’s what you’re trying to do. Just because you know me, you think that means you know all my inner fucking feelings. When it's clear you don’t know mine or your own!” He says in a stern and loud tone that I have heard him use in the past…. just never to me.

indifferent and painful words

left deep scars on that day

words that made me realize

that i’m still a fool

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so easy for me to read your feelings if it wasn’t so blatantly obvious on your face and the way you act differently around me now!”

“And you think I started acting the way I did simply because I suddenly just lost all my feelings for you? You can’t be that clueless!”

The words being thrown between us were indifferent and painful which had already left their mark on both of us and only made us more frustrated. At this point, the distance between us seems bigger than the couch itself and my heart feels heavier than when I thought we were about to break up.

“No, you can’t be this low into making this seem like it’s all on me! And not knowing my feelings how does that even make sense?” I blurt out.

“Seriously, I know when we first started having problems we both started acting slightly different towards each other but it was never this bad…” voice much calmer and less tense than it was a few seconds ago as he continued.

“But it was after my birthday, you know after what happened, you just changed how you acted toward me -with me completely.” His tone turned the air serious almost still. I felt it slap me right across my face, run right into my chest knocking the air out of me.

“I-I did?", making my way full circle back to stuttering.

The next words that come out of his mouth make me realize the fool that I am. And at this realization, I could only tear up. Choked up it is my eyes this time that turn apologetic, while his eyes look at the floor before us.

He nods.

“You did. At first, it was just little things like not asking me to pick you up on my way home or not asking for my shirt to wear to bed. But then it turned into so much more.”

I looked down filled with a bit of shame. Until I heard a sound from him I didn’t expect, a chuckle.

“Just like that. You didn’t even look at me anymore. At the table, in the car, you even turn your back to me when we’re in bed. I used to catch you staring at me even when I wasn’t looking at you.” He smiles fondly at the memory and it’s his turn to look down at his hands.

He plays with his bracelet, one I got for him two years ago for his birthday. He shakes his head, ”It’s as if my presence makes you completely uncomfortable now.” his voice cracks.

And it is right then when I do too.

if only i can erase it

if only i can

At that moment I wished I had done the exact thing he told me I always did. Because once I did look up at him what I saw broke me. His eyes filled with tears he is trying to hold back, a few escaping but he is quick to wipe them away. It was the worst thing I could see besides looking at me driving him away. It was me hurting him. If I could erase everything I did to make him think that I didn't love being around him I would, and now I could.

i took you for granted

but just thinking of you not being there

i don’t want to go through that

my world would crumble

Although I may not be able to erase everything I can change everything from here on to prove to him he has the wrong view of what he is to me. He is the furthest thing than just an uncomfortable presence. He is my best friend, my roommate, my chauffeur, my home, my family, and my lover. My everything. Even the thought of him not being in my life…my whole world would fall apart.

am i the one for you

at some point, you were keeping me in check

i said you changed a lot but i changed the most

the one for me, i didn’t know

but that promise keeps suffocating us

time keeps lingering but our time keeps getting destroyed

The tears running down his face make me think he feels the same, that he doesn’t want us to end like this. It assures me of us, that he is the one for me and I am the one for him.

“I’m sorry,” he looks at me and for the first time in a while we both look into each other’s eyes with hopefulness, “I said you changed a lot, but I was the one who changed the most. And I kept acting that way because I had made myself think that was what you wanted. I didn’t want to let you go so I thought by doing that I would hold onto you longer but that very thing is what suffocated us. It's what wrecked our relationship and sent it down even further. We had so much time to fix it but it just kept getting destroyed.” I say with two streams running one under each eye.

He finally speaks after what to me feels like a whole lifetime.

“It's okay, I mean, it's both our faults though,” he sniffs, “We should have had this conversation a long time ago.” He has gone back to fiddling with his bracelet this time him being the one to break eye contact.

He laughs, again catching me off guard with the unexpected reaction.

“It’s funny, the one thing we did the most even when we didn’t need to or weren’t even supposed to do, is what we failed to do when we needed to the most…talk.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well at the irony.

“I guess we took all those times we told each other to shut up when watching movies to heart.” I chuckle out and he laughs at my response.

that smile came to me, more brightly

the cold hands became more warm

two lonely souls met

not lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely

i’ll look into you again, i’ll place your breathing in my ears

even if everything but us changes

His smile seemed brighter now more than ever. At that moment the room seemed to be glowing.

I reached out and grabbed his hands,

“I love you, I have always and will always. I don’t want to give us up, I never have. We’ve been together for too long to go back to being lonely and I’d be an idiot to pick loneliness over you.”

I looked at him the whole time watching his expression with every word. I look through the tears in my eyes at him and when I feel him squeeze my hands in his the tears spill over all over again.

“You are the only girl who has had my heart for years. I’ve never debated giving it to anyone else. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll get us back to the good place where we were before. Even if something has to change I don’t care as long as we are the only thing that doesn’t.”

His words were exactly what I wanted and needed to hear, enabling my tears to keep falling down my face but now out of pure happiness, the pure bliss of us finally back to one another. We were finally back to being us.

I pull him towards me by the nape of his neck, foreheads resting against each other. With our lips brushing,

“I love you” I whisper to him.

He lovingly smiles back.

“I have always loved you too.”

And those were the only words I ever needed to hear from him.

i hope you’ll tell me first

don’t cry no more

if your heart can see me

don’t cry no more

He pulls me onto his lap, legs dangling over his. I bury my head in his chest, my arms wrapping around his strong torso. His arms pull me into a tight embrace, one that signifies neither of us is about to go anywhere.

“Now stop crying, baby.” He teases me, the only evidence of his tears is the red in his eyes.

“I can’t they won’t stop now.” I giggle out past my sobs.

“It’s okay now, we know our feelings are on the same page.”

i’ll go to you first

at the end of a different road

i’ll wipe your cheeks

that are wet with tears

and ask you

“Now we just need to figure out where to start where do we go from here,” he continues as he holds my face again as he did hours ago but now the gesture felt completely different as he used his thumbs to wipe my cheeks that were wet with tears, I look into those dreamy coffee coloured eyes of his as I listen to the next words that came out of his bitter coffee flavoured lips that I can already taste,

“Tell me what to do”

155 notes · View notes

azen13 · 3 days ago

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[Not really sure if this counts as a request but here we go] Who’s your favourite male yandere(s) from genshin? And could you talk about why?

Ah I love this question! Thank you so much for asking. I've been really busy with college lately so I haven't gotten a chance to write recently, but after this week I should be finished with a lot of tests until finals. Just to clear things up, I absolutely accept questions like this! I feel like I haven't really shared a lot about myself as a person so I'm hoping to do more of that in the future.

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CW: Yandere Themes, Spoilers for Wriothesley's Story Quest

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I'd say I have four yanderes who I really like, and then a few who I like but I'm not obsessed with. Those four being Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, and Zhongli. Beyond the fact that I just like them as characters (and I'm gay asf lol) they're the most interesting yanderes to me, in part because of how much power they have in their societies.

Alhaitham is really interesting to me because there's this personal conflict between his values and beliefs and the idea of falling in an obsessive love. Alhaitham is inherently self-centered, not narcissistically so, but to the point where he prioritizes and values his time alone. In doing so though, he's also extremely lonely. I think a lot on how Alhaitham would react to someone who's able to match his sharpened blade of wit with one of their own, how he might exchange parries and blows with that person and find himself needing to understand the nature of their mind. I also think about how he'd react to someone who struggles with taking care of themself, or overworking: how he'd try to get you to stop doing so much and trying to please everyone. If his lover can keep up with his intelligence, he treats the romance like a game of chess, lining up his pieces to topple over the defenses surrounding your heart. His possession of you is slow and methodical, like vines growing on walls, slowly creeping over every inch. If his lover's wisdom is spent in other areas, then he's quick to snatch them up and take them home. While I think he's quick to get you under his control, it's harder for him to make them fall in love and surrender to his calculating embrace.

Neuvillette brings a really interesting element that I like to think about when I'm writing for him: immortality. He's a dragon who's lived for centuries, and that element of the slow passage of time is really fun to both write and think about. I really like to think of Neuvillette as a really, really soft yandere; he's seen humanity at its worst, and doesn't want you, the beautiful thing you are, to be tainted by all of its ugliness. Besides, he just can't help himself, what with his draconic instincts.

Out of the four, Wriothesley is the character I'd say I have the hardest time writing for because it's harder for me to explain why he feels the way he does. The working justification I have is that being betrayed by his adoptive family and living his whole life in Meropide made him incredibly lonely and developed a lot of abandonment issues that remained unearthed for years, as he didn't really make many close friends in Meropide. Then you come along though, and for once, Wriothesley has something good, something he doesn't want to give up. He's definitely one of the hardest yanderes to escape, what with Meropide being a literal prison. I think he definitely takes extra precautions when it comes to you, though, because he's so scared of losing them. Beneath his gruff exterior, there's a heart of gold, a man who only craves your complete affection and attention.

And then there's Zhongli, who was actually the character who got me into writing Yanderes. The thing about Zhongli is that as a yandere, you're practically powerless, unless you're on a similar or higher level of power/divinity to him. Even if you exceed his power, you're still going to have a very difficult time escaping his control. With how long he's lived and how much he's seen, he knows the only way to guarantee your safety is to isolate you from Teyvat entirely. Zhongli has no qualms about doing this, regardless of how much you might protest. Because when you've lost everything but Zhongli, you'll eventually—and inevitably—crumble into his arms. Only then will Zhongli put you back together, shaping you to be his perfect lover. Zhongli's greatest power as a yandere is his patience.

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elryuse · 3 days ago

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Can you make yandere pyramid game x female reader, please?

UNDER THE TWISTED GAME

YANDERE PYRAMID GAME X FEMALE READER

Y/n, a quiet, unassuming girl, had always been a dreamer. She'd spent most of her life lost in the pages of books, her imagination painting vibrant worlds far removed from the harsh realities of the real world. But as she stepped into the gates of Baekyeon Girls' High School, she was about to discover a reality far more sinister than any fiction.

The school, a prestigious institution known for its rigorous academics and its equally rigorous social hierarchy, was a microcosm of society's cruelest facets. The students, divided into distinct castes, engaged in a relentless power struggle, their lives dictated by the whims of popularity and social status.

Y/n, a newcomer, was immediately thrust into this treacherous world. Her innocent demeanor and gentle nature marked her as an easy target for the school's bullies. However, she was blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her.

One fateful day, as Y/n sat alone in the cafeteria, lost in the pages of her beloved novel, she felt a cold sensation drenching her head. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she looked up to see Baek Haerin, the school's undisputed queen bee, and her clique of sycophants standing over her.

Haerin, a girl with a heart as cold as the winter wind, regarded Y/n with a mixture of disdain and amusement. Her eyes, devoid of empathy, sparkled with malicious intent. "Well, well, well," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "look who we have here. A new toy for us to play with.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she tried to comprehend the situation. The icy liquid, a mixture of broth and noodles, trickled down her face, stinging her eyes. She felt humiliated, exposed, and utterly helpless.

"What's the matter, newbie?" Haerin taunted, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Can't handle a little water? Maybe you should stick to your books and leave the real world to us."

Y/n, her voice barely a whisper, managed to stammer out, "I-I don't understand."

Haerin's friends, Jaeun and Do-ah, giggled at Y/n's naivety. "Oh, you poor, sweet thing," Jaeun cooed, her voice laced with mockery. "You're so innocent. You'll learn soon enough."

"Learn what?" Y/n asked, her voice trembling.

"Learn to play the game," Haerin replied, her tone turning serious. "The Pyramid Game."

Y/n's heart sank. She had heard rumors about the Pyramid Game, a cruel social hierarchy where students were ranked based on their popularity. The lowest-ranked students were subjected to relentless bullying and humiliation.

"You're at the bottom of the pyramid now," Haerin declared, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "And trust me, it's a long way up."

As Haerin and her friends walked away, leaving Y/n drenched and humiliated, a sense of dread washed over her. She knew that her life at Baekyeon was about to become a living nightmare.

Days turned into weeks, and the bullying intensified. Y/n was subjected to constant harassment, from snide remarks to physical assaults. She was ostracized, isolated, and alone.

Yet, despite the relentless torment, Y/n refused to succumb to despair. She clung to her hope, her spirit unbroken. She would not let them win. She would fight back, no matter the cost.

One night, as Y/n lay awake in bed, a plan began to form in her mind. A plan to topple the pyramid, to expose the cruelty and injustice that had become the norm. She would rise from the ashes, stronger and more determined than ever before.

The next day, Y/n confronted Haerin and her friends. She stood tall, her voice steady, her eyes unwavering. She challenged their authority, their power, their very existence.

Haerin, taken aback by Y/n's sudden defiance, was furious. She vowed to make Y/n pay for her audacity. But Y/n was ready. She was ready to fight, to struggle, to bleed. She was ready to climb the pyramid, one step at a time, until she reached the very top.

Haerin, intrigued by Y/n's unexpected resilience, found herself drawn to her in a way she couldn't quite explain. The girl's spirit, her unwavering determination, was a stark contrast to the submissive nature of the other girls she'd encountered. It was a challenge, a puzzle she was eager to solve.

Instead of continuing the usual pattern of bullying, Haerin began to toy with Y/n. She would seek her out, cornering her in secluded corners of the school. The once-fearful Y/n, now emboldened by her defiance, met Haerin's gaze with a mix of defiance and a strange, unfamiliar thrill.

Haerin would whisper sweet nothings, her breath warm against Y/n's ear. She'd trace the curve of Y/n's neck, her fingers lingering a moment too long. The once-innocent Y/n, under Haerin's touch, felt a strange sensation, a mix of fear and desire. The line between torment and pleasure blurred, leaving her confused and captivated.

Unbeknownst to Haerin, she was falling deeper and deeper into a dangerous obsession. Y/n, with her quiet strength and mysterious allure, had ignited a fire within her that she couldn't control. The more she tried to dominate, the more she found herself submitting to her own desires.

Haerin craved Y/n's attention, her touch, her every breath. She wanted to possess her, to make her her own. The thought of sharing Y/n with anyone else filled her with a possessive rage. She would do anything to keep Y/n by her side, even if it meant resorting to force.

As the days passed, Haerin's obsession grew more intense. She would stalk Y/n, watching her every move, jealous of every interaction, no matter how fleeting. She would dream of Y/n, of their stolen moments, of the thrill of dominance and submission.

The once-bright-eyed girl, full of life and laughter, was slowly being consumed by darkness. The Pyramid Game, a cruel game of power and control, had taken a sinister turn. And at its heart was a twisted love story, a dangerous obsession that threatened to consume them both.

The dynamic between Haerin, Jaeun, and Do-ah shifted dramatically. The once-solid trio, bound by their shared ambition and cruelty, were now rivals, each vying for Y/n's attention. Jaeun, the cunning manipulator, would resort to underhanded tactics, spreading rumors and sowing discord. Do-ah, the more impulsive one, would lash out, her jealousy fueling her aggression.

Y/n, caught in the crossfire, was bewildered. She couldn't understand why these girls, who had once treated her with disdain, were now so obsessed with her. Their behavior was erratic, their emotions volatile. One moment they were sweet and seductive, the next they were cold and hostile.

The school, once a place of quiet despair, was now a battlefield. The once-peaceful hallways were filled with tension, the air thick with unspoken threats. Y/n, the unwitting catalyst, was at the center of this chaotic storm.

Haerin, the most strategic of the three, realized that their constant bickering was counterproductive. She proposed a radical solution: a unification of interests. Instead of fighting over Y/n, they could share her. By combining their forces, they could dominate Y/n completely, ensuring her loyalty and devotion.

Jaeun and Do-ah, initially hesitant, were eventually swayed by Haerin's persuasive argument. The thought of sharing Y/n, of having her at their mercy, was too tempting to resist. They agreed to a fragile truce, a temporary alliance forged in the name of their shared obsession.

Y/n, unaware of the secret pact, was both terrified and intrigued. She was a prisoner in her own life, trapped in a love triangle that was quickly turning into a dangerous love quadrangle. She knew she had to escape this twisted reality, but she also couldn't deny the strange pull she felt towards these three enigmatic girls.

The once vibrant and hopeful Y/n was now a mere shadow of her former self. The innocence that had once radiated from her had been extinguished, replaced by a weary resignation. The girls, Haerin, Jaeun, and Do-ah, had successfully ensnared her, their grip tightening with each passing day.

The school, once a place of learning and growth, had transformed into a gilded cage. Y/n was their prized possession, a trophy to be displayed and admired, but never truly owned. Every move she made was monitored, every thought scrutinized. The fear of their wrath was a constant, a shadow that loomed over her.

Haerin, the cunning mastermind, reveled in her power. She enjoyed watching Y/n squirm, her once-proud spirit broken. She would often corner Y/n, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, her voice laced with a dangerous undercurrent.

"You're mine, Y/n," she would purr, her eyes dark and possessive. "Your Body and Soul."

Y/n, her voice barely a whisper, would nod in silent agreement, her heart heavy with despair. She had learned the hard way that resistance was futile. It was better to submit, to accept her fate, than to risk further torment.

Jaeun, the manipulative one, took pleasure in breaking Y/n down. She would taunt her, humiliate her, and then offer her a crumb of affection, just to keep her hooked. Y/n, desperate for any sign of kindness, would cling to these fleeting moments of tenderness, unaware of the cruel game she was playing.

Do-ah, the most impulsive of the three, was the most physically abusive. She would lash out at Y/n, her jealousy and rage fueling her violence. Y/n would bear the brunt of her wrath, her body marked with bruises and scars.

One day, as Y/n was walking through the hallway, she felt a familiar presence behind her. She turned to see Haerin, Jaeun, and Do-ah approaching, their faces twisted into sinister grins.

"Where do you think you're going, little bird?" Haerin asked, her voice dripping with venom.

Y/n, her heart pounding in her chest, forced herself to remain calm. "Nowhere," she replied, her voice barely audible.

"Oh, I think you do," Haerin countered, her eyes narrowing. "You're going somewhere very special."

Without warning, Haerin grabbed Y/n's arm and dragged her into an empty classroom. Jaeun and Do-ah followed close behind, their faces lit up with anticipation.

"We have a little surprise for you," Haerin said, her voice low and menacing.

Y/n's heart sank. She knew what was coming. It was the same routine, the same humiliation, the same pain.

As the three girls closed in on her, Y/n closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable. She had become a mere puppet, a pawn in their twisted game.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Y/n, once a bright and hopeful young woman, was now a broken shell of her former self. Her spirit, once so vibrant, was now dim and lifeless.

Yet, even in the depths of despair, a flicker of hope remained. A tiny spark, a glimmer of defiance. She would never truly be theirs, not completely. A part of her, a part of her soul, would always remain free.

And one day, when the time was right, she would rise from the ashes, stronger and more determined than ever before. She would break free from their clutches, and reclaim her life. Until then, she would endure, she would survive.

- The End -

#pyramid game #jang daah #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x female reader #female reader #update #beautiful #yandere stories #kdrama #korean series #yandere #jang daa #ryu dain #shin seulki #baek hae-rin #myeong ja-eun #seo do-ah

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wonderjanga · 8 hours ago

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Billy and Freddy along with Mary watches gacha reaction videos (if you don't know what that is your missing out). But they can only do it in the watch tower and stuff due to the lack of technology in Fawcett. This ideas been going around in my head for a while and I KNOW Freddy would love it.

Hal was having a normal day. The sun was shining, the Earth looked beautiful from the Watchtower. He wanted to go watch the game on one of the Watchtower’s gigantic and beautiful TVs.

GL: *on his merry way to one of the rec rooms, whistling a little tune*

Marvel and Junior: *occasional gasps*

GL: *thinking they’re watching a horror movie and decides he’ll just watch it with them until it’s over* “Hey guys-”

Marvel and Junior: *sitting right in front of the screen, staring like iPad babies and watching a Rivals react to Ayano Aishi vid*

GL: *stares for like a solid second* “What- What the fuck are y’all doing?”

Marvel: *pauses it* “Huh?” *looks back to Hal*

GL: “Why are you guys watching this baby content?”

Junior: *sounds offended* “It’s not baby stuff.”

GL: “Uh yeah. It is.”

Marvel: “No, it isn’t. Stop being a hater.”

GL: “Marvel, you’re a grown ass man. And Junior? You’re at least 14. Why are you watching this??”

Junior: “It’s entertaining.”

GL: “Entertaining. Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah! Come on.” *pats a spot next to him* “Watch it with us.”

GL: “Dude, no.”

Marvel and Junior: *share a look* “Watch it. Watch it. Watch it.” *chanting*

Hal eventually caved.

That’s how he found himself sitting on the floor with them, and watching a surprisingly entertaining “mha reacts to deku as kokichi video”. A couple minutes later, Mary came by with snacks and joined them.

Mary: “I brought some Cheetos and popcorn- wha? You guys started without me?!”

Marvel and Junior: “Sorry, Mary.” *in unison and in shame*

Mary: *sighs and just sits down with them* “Why’s Green Lantern here??

GL: “I just found the fact that a grown man finds this entertaining very interesting.” (He’s actually completely enthralled in these but he’s too embarrassed to admit it)

Mary: “Uh huh… sure.”

Hal’s a little ashamed to admit that they spent like two hours straight doing this until they transitioned into the GLMMs.

GL: “Wait, I don’t get it. Why does the Mom just not love her child?”

Marvel: *shrugs* “Cause she’s mean.”

A couple minutes later…

GL: “Wait, why did the dad die?!”

Mary: “For story progression!”

Like ten minutes later…

GL: “She’s a wolf-cat-angel-demon-unicorn hybrid…?”

Junior: “Yep, she’s special!”

GL: “HAH! Her bitch of a sister’s just a cat!”

Marvel, Mary, and Junior: *all just happy Hal’s invested*

After a couple GLMMs such as Bad Girls vs Gangsters, Emotionless Girl, and The CEO is my Boss, (shout out to everyone who watched these) they moved on to even more kiddy content. Such as Fnaf videos, but not just any… no no no, these ones

After the Fnaf thingy…

GL: “Damn.” *stands up* “My ass hurts from sitting on the ground for so long.”

Marvel: “Dang…” *pauses their next gacha vid* “So you’re out?”

GL: “Yup.” *stretches*

Mary: “It was nice having you Mr. Green Lantern Sir.”

Junior: “Yeah, thanks for letting us put you on.”

Marvel, Mary, and Junior: *same blinding smile*

Also, by the way, they were definitely watching GLMVs and singing along to “I’m a bad girlfriend” and “She’s crazy but she’s mine” and “Copycat” and “Queen.” All of which were and still are peak and I stand by that till this day.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #hal jordan #green lantern

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metamorphesque · 2 days ago

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what are ur thoughts on fanfiction?

I believe any token of love is beautiful as long as it’s harmless.

What is fanfiction, if not an extension of one’s deep admiration for something — a love so profound that it cannot be confined to mere words of praise? Instead, it overflows into the creation of new stories. It’s beautiful how fanfiction writers dedicate so much time, effort and creativity to their work, sharing it freely with others without expecting anything in return. Their selfless dedication speaks volumes about how deeply stories touch and impacts us.

As someone whose favorite pastime as a child was playing make-believe games with her siblings, this feels like a more refined and reshaped version of that play.

#asks #fanfiction

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astralis-ortus · 2 days ago

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[ preview ] don't like me less

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— even when i'm not everything you wanted, please don't like me less.

w.count → 0.2k [preview]; 1.3k [full story] genre → comfort, fluff warning → chan referred to as my christopher, baby, and babe; reader referred to as baby and babe; based on chan's bubble text♡ a.n → this post serves as a preview. full story could be obtained through here♡ ⋆ see masterlist

"have you ever gotten the ick while you're with me?"

chris' unexpected question of the night had resulted in the lines of disapproving frown between your eyebrows, and you need to made them known to him as you pulled away from your boyfriend's warm embrace under the duvet, pair of questioning eyes gazing right into his beautiful ones.

"the ick?" you reiterated, still unsure to why your boyfriend of two years is having this kind of thought, "what do you mean by that?"

for you, the past two years has been the best time of your life.

of course, saying things like 'it's a smooth sailing relationship' or 'we have never fought' would be a complete lie—you're just a human after all and so is chris, but past every ups and downs you've walked through together with your hand in his, you're certain forever wouldn't feel as long when you have chris right by your side.

"it's just—it's a silly thought, really," chris sighed, fingers lightly tracing shapes on the bare of your shoulder as he started to regret where his impulse has gotten him, "but i just… you know, i'm such a nerd."

the confusion in your eyes must have grown the more apparent, judging from the way chris immediately followed, "well, i mean, you once said it yourself that i really, really know my anime. i also game a lot, and i… i don't know, have you ever found it… icky, that i like those stuff?"

okay, now you're completely lost.

"what if i told you yes, i have?"

[ click here for the full story ]

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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artsekey · 2 days ago

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Recommended Media | 2024 Roundup!

Hey, everyone! I decided to collect a list of my top media of 2024; I'm very picky about how I spend my limited free time, and everything on this list gets a 10/10 recommendation from me!

I don't do reviews often, but I personally prioritize strong storytelling over everything else... though as a professor of animated film, I'm a sucker for strong technical execution, too! The media included on this list were not necessarily released in 2024, either-- I personally experienced them for the first time this year.

Best Shows:

These pieces of media are exemplars of storytelling and objectively excellent technical execution; I'd recommend them to most.

Blue Eye Samurai was captivating from start to finish-- so much so that I watched it three times all the way through! I'm not one to re-watch shows, but this was a true gem. The style didn't draw me in at first, and I'm not a huge fan of the genre, but the tight writing, clear themes, and artistic execution make this a much-watch for me.

Unsurprisingly, Fortiche's Arcane makes the list. Not only did the team do a great job of creating an immersive world and compelling characters, but the art direction on this show has been phenomenally influential in the animation world. Everything-- from the editing, camerawork, animation, voice acting, foley-work, score, and pacing-- is excellent. I use sections of this show in my Master's level courses because the use of film theory is so consistent and well executed!

Pluto is a beautifully animated adaptation of the 2003 Award-Winning Manga by the same name that discusses the horrors and aftermath of war through the lens of a futuristic sci-fi murder-mystery. Though it gets off to a slow start-- demanding a three episode investment before it truly has you hooked-- its beautiful visuals and compelling narrative act as a wonderful tribute to a touching and poignant story.

Best Games:

Big Mode's Animal Well is the indie studio's debut title, and as someone who loves story, this game... has none. It's on this list because despite my aversion to story-light games, I could not put it down. It's a reasonably priced, beautifully art-directed puzzler that rewards exploration and experimentation in a way that few modern games do.

Atlus's Persona 4: Golden has my whole heart. I played Persona 5, enjoyed it, but picked up Persona 4 while on vacation. It is, by far, my favorite Persona game. You arrive in a small, rural town on the heels of a gruesome murder and slowly collected a group of misfit teenagers who are truly struggling to figure out who they are. Every character feels well-rounded, and at over 150 hrs of playtime, this dated title-- available on Switch-- is worth every penny, even in 2024.

Hiding Spot's Beacon Pines is a touching story about a kid slowly unraveling the dark history of his hometown. Though it's a short experience, the mechanics offer a fun and unique twist on the visual novel genre that had me coming back for more over and over again! The art is adorable, the music is sweet, and the story is a compelling delight that gives the player the convincing illusion of agency.

#reccomendation #show rec #game rec #2024

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bussyyeukie · 10 hours ago

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Call of the Ocean

(poly!141x siren!reader)

The seas were not evil; not rough and dark as the stories made it to be. Water crashing in a white mess against creaking hulls, dragging helpless souls and flailing arms. People say it’s dangerous, ugly, to not go out there. You’ll rarely come back if you don’t respect the power of the waves lapping up against the ship. The tide pulls at your knees until you’re suddenly to your hips, then your chest, and the cold sting sinks into you until your lips are blue and your lungs burn as the current pulls you.

The sea was beautiful, it was home to many creatures. Life giving creatures. Its waters reflected light, shining golden, shining blue, green, pink, orange. It’s lull carrying you on the surface, floating gently until it gifts you back to the shore. Many made their living from the sea. Many lived their whole lives dependent on the kindness it gifted to them.

You didn’t have a choice, not that you minded. All you could see was the beauty of the ocean. Even the beauty in the death it would bring, completing the cycle and inviting room for new life to start. Your home was the sea, and you’d never known any different.

Born from the frothy foam of the white wash, the crash of the ocean waves. Your lullaby, the sun that dried the drops on your face a forbidden fruit, the feel of warm earth and the absence of the waters cradle holding you a forgotten longing.

Your sister's songs resting on the water's surface. Your own song is a mix of the melody.

You remember laying on the rocks, with the moon's light basking over your skin, shining opalescent, hair fanning out across the rock, ends dipping back into the calm water. You remember laughing with your sisters, giggles bursting from throats and silly stories passed around as silken hands ran through damp hair. Placing bands of metal and shells into the braids littering your locks.

You remembered the first time you heard of the dangers of some humans.

The ones who were stronger than you, the ones who weren’t as swayed by the haunting songs rolling off your tongues. The ones who hurt, the ones who killed. Caught you up in nets and spears, committing horrific acts, chopping tails and hair, drying scales and collecting tears. As a child, it made you wary of approaching the surface, opting out of games and laying low in the darkness of the oceans depths. The older you got, the less afraid you became, being assured that you and your sisters were safe, too far from shore or populated ports to cause panic. It was rare to hear of a killing recently as well. Every once in a while someone would go missing, but there were never sights of ships, or rogue sailors to blame.

The older you got, the stronger you got. Teeth sharper, your tail gaining a more distinct pattern, the shine glowing brighter under the moon, your sound growing smoother and less banshee like.

With that came confidence. You’d approach the surface with your sisters, breaching water, wrapping your arms around the railings of small fishing boats, round luminescent eyes shining in the moon, hair sticking to wet skin. Voice soft and rolled over like fog into the ears of the sailors.

You no longer feared humans. Almost foolishly.

Growing reckless in your approach to stray boats.

Not realizing that, at times, those dangerous humans were trickier than yourself.

Floating in the water, the dawn barely creeping up on the horizon, you watched the dark shadow of the hull sit on the surface. It wasn’t necessarily a large boat, in fact, the closer you got you realized it was fit for about five people at most. It had been a minute since you’d eaten, stomach rolling as you thought of the previous two weeks, dinnerless. It wasn’t that bad though, you really didn’t need to eat as often as a human, but the lack of substantial food didn’t help.

Your hair swayed around you, pushing it from your line of sight, you pursed your lips as you watched the shadow rock. Really you should’ve thought it through a little more, called someone over with you. Better yet, went along, swam by, left it be. But you didn’t. You were hungry.

Snapping your tail, you approached the underside of the boat, nose almost touching the wood. The water is warmer up there compared to the depths beneath you. Tail tucked under you, the water wasn’t clear, nowhere near it, but you didn’t want to risk it over something stupid.

Face turned, licking your plump lips, ear pressing against the underside of the hull.

You heard some shifting, and a rock of the boat, footsteps, then the thunk of someone sitting. They sounded heavy. You felt a grin tug at your lips, muffled voices filling your ears. Sounded like three. Three was easy.

Flicking your tail, you rose, peeking up out of the water till your eyes blinked away droplets. It was foggy out, so thick you could just barely see five feet away. Catching a glimpse of the bearded man sitting in the boat, his voice thick as he spoke to the others in the boat. They hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Beautiful as the warm breeze,” the man laughed, mockingly, “As if waking up to a pile ‘a gold on ya’ pillow!”

Your hair stuck to your face as you emerged more, chin dipping in the water, hair fanned out around you. The hair on your face framing it, lips wet and cheeks flushed. Eyelashes clumped with water. Skin shiny and an almost hollowed look to your undereyes. You grinned.

“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s nonsense, the fact that he has our asses out here in the cold anyway it’s–”

You had peeked out a bit more, neck visible, pearlish pattering on your jaw and neck glinting in certain lights. Catching the man's eye. He jerked violently to the side, grasping wildly behind him.

“Bloody hell!’

The boat rocked and you sank down, acting spooked as you hid to your eyes again. Wide and gazing up at the man. Glancing over to the other two men in the boat. Who looked to you as well, snapping to attention as they moved as far back on their seats as possible.

The water rippled.

“What the fuck,” the bearded man’s jaw was agape, brows knit close together. He was older than the other two. Hard to tell by how much, his face was well sea worn.

“Get it!” One of the other men shouted, his hands trembling as he jolted for something on the bottom of the boat. Your eyes widened as you ducked down more, tail flicking under the boat.

A quick hand grabbed the man who reached. The older man was still in shock, trying to push himself as far back as possible, brows knit tightly together.

You looked to the side, a younger boy was sitting there, lips chapped and cracked, tanned face and hat wedged on his head. Curled hair sticking out of it.

“Wait! Wait…” he turned to you, eyes wide, he was thin, very lean, and not very tall.

The other man, who had thin hair, and a potbelly, looked at the boy in shock.

“Boy, let go of me–!”

“Hold on a second!” he snapped, looking from you to the pot-bellied man, “Look at ‘er…”

The three looked to you, you breached the water again, to your chin.

“Hello,” you whispered, voice silken and carried across the water and into the boat. You watched the three men’s shoulders drop, eyes wide as they watched you.

“Hello…” the young man licked his lips, swallowing roughly, “What are you doing? O-out here?”

The bearded man grunted, “What the bloody hell do you think she’s doin’ out here! She’s a mermaid!”

You giggled.

The three men looked at you. Boat creaking as it rocked.

“Mermaids?” you preened, moving closer slowly, till your hands creeped up the sides of the hull, gripping it as you crossed your arms, leaning on it, the men moving back as you moved forward, “How silly, to believe in fairytales like that? Isn’t it?”

The younger man laughed nervously, “Y-yeah, very silly.”

You tilted your head, wet hair sticking to the smooth skin of your back and shoulders.

Seemingly glowing under the light, dawn still far off as it creeped.

“Y-you,” the pot-bellied man gulped, “You’re tricking us, I know it! You are!”

“I am? That wouldn’t be very nice of me,” you giggled, tail swishing and flicking under the dark ripples.

“He, cap’n told us remember, he told us it would do this,” the pot-bellied man said again.

The young man smacking him in the arm, “Watch your tongue! She has a name!”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that then?” the bearded man spat, leaning forward to frown, then jolting back when he realized he’d gotten so close to you.

The young man stuttered, then turned to you. Your smiled broadening, sweetly, a subtle hum starting at the back of your throat, matching the tune of the lapping of the waves brought to the side of the little fishing boat.

If you’d thought about it a little more, or at all really. You would have left at the mention of a captain, the three men in a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean. It was strange.

But you didn’t.

The three men turned to you.

The young one leaning forward a bit, getting to a knee in front of you, you grinned at him.

“Yes?”

“D-do, do you have one?” he gulped, hands twitchy on his thighs, “A name I mean?”

“Of course I do,” the subtle note still ringing through the air as you spoke, carrying through your words, “My name is Y/N, why wouldn’t I have a name?”

The men seemed lost, the bearded one having relaxed into his seat. The young one mere inches from your face.

He chuckled, “I, I don’t know.”

“What’s your name?” you reached out, tender and slow, water droplets rolling off skin onto the fabric of his pants, he closed his eyes, leaning into your hand as you pushed it forward. Your fingers twitched.

Your cold fingertips brushed his cheek before a large hand grabbed your wrist, and the boy was flung back, eliciting a violent thrash of your tail and a screech from you. Brows furrowing and lips curled.

“Get the net now!”

You went to pull your arm back, if fate had been on your side, you would have pulled him under. Tipped the boat. But, fate seemed to be holding something over your head at the moment. As the pot bellied man jumped to his feet and grabbed a bundle of netting. You thrashed, the large man with the beard fighting you, pulling you up and you flailing and hissing.

Your teeth sharp as you barred them at him. Nails clawed and you dug into the cords of his forearm, scarlet blood dripping between your fingers, running down the slope of your forearm till it pooled and dripped at your elbow.

“Throw it! Now! Get her tail!”

Whipping your tail, trying to tip the boat the best you could, the man almost expertly threw the netting, the young man still sat flat on his ass.

The bearded man grabbed a handful of your hair, as if trying to rip it from your scalp.

Snarling as he shouted, “The knife! Spear! Anything!”

The young man looked between the large man standing and you, your tail thrashing violently and your screams and slitted eyes. Net getting tangled up on itself, and unfortunately wrapping around yourself.

“No!” you howled, teeth gnashing, clenching your fist, tearing flesh from the man holding you. Your back arching as he ripped at your hair, squeezing his hand tightly, your wrist aching and popping.

“Don’t mess it up! Cap’n wants a pretty one remember,” the pot-bellied man said, rather snarkily.

“For what?” the boy on the floor asked.

“Knife boy, now!”

The bearded man had spit flying from his lips as he shouted, the boat rocking. Your tail cramping, and shrill screams escaping your throat. The young man jumping to his feet and the sound of clanking drew your attention, watching him sift through a pile of spears and knives at the bottom of the boat. A cold chill running up the back of your spine, wrapping around your jaw and up your face.

“Enough! Stop!’ you cried, the pot-bellied man trying to yank the netting up your tail, scraping off a few scales, which flicked out and smacked his side, causing him to slam to his ass in the boat, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

You tried to shake the netting from yourself, but the young boy popped back up with a spear, sharp and chipped at the end. The handle two feet as he held it up.

You screamed, piercing as he brought it down, sinking into the meat of your tail, above the joint. White pain searing through you and your stomach cramped. Lips pulled over your teeth, the bearded man barking something, and the young boy ripped the spear out, a pouring of dark blood streaming from the deep wound. Throbbing and scalding with pain.

The pot-bellied man grabbed the side of the boat as he spat curses at you more, getting himself to his feet, jerking the rest of the netting back up your tail. Up over your hips. The bearded man pried your hand away from his arm, spitting at you as his blood coated your hand.

“Stupid bitch, you’ll be in for it soon enough…”

The pot-bellied man reached for his hip, pulling a horn looking instrument, and blew on it, a low, sharp sound escaping it. Causing you to wince, flinching your tail, which erupted in pain. The young man looked at you, and jabbed at your tail again with some knife by his side, slicing it again. A cry escaping your throat.

“Enough of that, we need ‘er in one piece aye?”

“Yeah, right” the boy looked at you, the bearded man pulling the netting over your head as he slammed you into the boat, your arms curling into your chest, and protecting your face, hair splayed out messily, tail curled in. The bearded man's feet by your head.

He leaned down over you, “One wrong move, and I stomp that pretty face in.”

You hissed at him, blinking wildly, clenching your fists.

The man tisked, “All that bark for what?”

You bit your tongue, holding off the slurry of insults you were about to throw at him, the threats, the promises of his demise. But, you were the one in the net, on the floor of a boat, injured.

The pot bellied man blew the horn again, and sat down next to your tail, which was over the bench, and over the side of the boat, just barely dipping into the water. The cold of it was inviting compared to the cold of the fog that covered the morning.

Your chest rose fast with breaths, sounding almost labored as the dark blood sank into the indents of your scales on your tail.

The balding man clapped the young man on the back, “wow what a sight! Knew they were real, christ, thing sure is less scary than the stories.”

The young man didn’t tear his eyes away from you, eyes frantic like a caged dog.

“What do you do with them again?”

The man shrugged, “Up to the cap’n, whoever can name the best price. Think he was plannin’ to keep this one in one piece this time, sell it whole.”

He elbowed the boy and laughed, snorting as he did. The sound grated at you.

How could you let this happen, be so foolish, so reckless. Thoughtless!

You felt the boat rock more, snapping your head around to see what was coming. The creaking sound of a big ship soaking into your ears. The feel of a hand grabbing your hair registered too late, not being able to fight it off before the meaty hand raised your head and slammed it back down against the boat's hull. Pain swarming your vision.

“You best keep quiet,” the bearded face made its way into your vision, before he stood, almost directly over you, wrapping some cloth around his forearm, which was near mangled.

You frowned, closing your eyes and flicking the tip of your tail, the water rippling under it, feeling the cold against you. Looking down, the young man had his head in his hands, gripping the knife tightly, your blood dripping off of it and onto his shoes. Almost mesmerized. The pot-bellied man was looking off in the distance, a wicked grin on his face, hooking the horn back onto his belt. Catching a glimpse of the insignia burned into the side of it, it was something you hadn’t seen before.

The bearded man said something to the pot-bellied man, who glanced down at you, sneering. You didn’t listen. Instead, you shot your hand through the netting, grabbing a death grip on the bearded man's waistband, and slapped your tail harder than you ever had in your life. Pulling the man down with you.

“Hey-rotted–!”

Before anyone could balance, you had flipped the boat. Sending all four of you crashing into the dark waters. Bubbles and irritated water rising around you all. Still wrapped in the netting, and bleeding from your tail, you looked around. The young man was struggling to grasp a hold of the flipped boat, weapons sinking slowly into the dark under you. The pot-bellied man sank. Struggling and large bubbles of air rising out of him as he got lower and lower. A silent scream etched onto his face.

The bearded man made one swipe at you, but you pushed yourself out of the way, crying shrilly, and snapping away. Watching him grasp at the overturned boat as well, as you dashed down.

Darker into the depths, the salt water stinging, and your head ringing. You rasped, as you swam, not sparing a look behind you as you fought with the netting, and failing. Getting it tangled more with yourself. The cold of the water surrounding you more than it ever had. It felt almost…uncomfortable. Not as cradling as it had been, but almost heavy, it felt like you were swimming through dense seaweed.

Your breath rang loud in the stillness of the water, the netting falling from you finally, sinking down. Your body cramping, as you spared one look behind, seeing the trail of blood left in your wake. Too much, it was too much blood. Unknowingly swimming sluggish, and sinking down.

word count: 3018

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p-h-a-n-t-a · 10 hours ago

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There's something so beautiful about Misfits and Magic season 2 looking at a bunch of people in their 20s who had their YA magical adventure where they shook everything up hunger games style and disrupted the system, asking them "okay what now?" And them going "I don't know, I never asked to be the hero of the story" and then when told "well you could just give it up, turn away, let it go back to the rotting foundation it was built on where people will find a way to exploit each other and create a familiar yet different system of power" they turned to the possibility of "What happens when we strip away the foundation that generations before us built and left and built on top of, and face the unknown."

It's really, really nice, seeing characters do what you hope you'd be brave enough to do when handed the reigns to the system that keeps fucking up the world. We don't need to be magic cops, we need to unmake the systems that required magic cops in the first place.

#misfits and magic #misfits and magic s2 #the pilot program #whitney jammer #sam black #sam britain #sam butler #k tanaka #xxbrokendreamxx #evan kelmp

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amethystarachnid · 2 days ago

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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.”

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