#this feels like being in scouts or something

[thebearme]

…petey headcanons? *holds plate out like a starving Victorian child*

Don't worry victorian child, you will be fed.

Petey is ace, particularly greysexual.

Petey has that scary cute cat yawn where they just unhinge their jaw then belp :P

He has shrimp posture sitting and standing, his back is wack.

Not so fun fact, his back is messed up because of his tail being chopped. The tail is connected to the spinal cord after all.

He was a BIG gifted child when he was little, he always wanted praise for his accomplishments. Which made alot of the kids around him hate him, and lead to the whole critter scouts thing.

And after awhile he became the exact opposite, he acted up in school for justified reasons but because his teachers wouldn't care to understand and just punished him. They saw him as a trouble child and the kids thought he was a bad kid, so with the change in perspective Petey started to believe it.

Luckily he had Big Jim growing up, he may have been mean to him at the time but nowadays Petey truly appreciates him and wants to apologize for behavior towards him.

Petey HATES getting sick for many reasons but the main one is that it makes him feel weak. So if Dogman or Lil Petey got sick he'll probably be in a hazmat suit before giving them a box of tissues.

Petey believe it or not, has a fixation on robots. AND I MEAN ALL ROBOTS, he would watch robot movies, have robot pjs, robot posters, robots toys on his shelf, robots anything and everything. I was able to show abit of it in my human Petey design with two of his tattoos (one of them being the robot from the day the earth stood still) and him in a transformer shirt. Why else would he make the most mundane things into robots? Cuz they're COOL!

Speaking of which, Petey fucking cried when he heard Opportunity's last words.

Petey gave up on getting an outside job and went freelance, It's not like the job market was that great anyway.

I imagine Petey, to the surprise to everyone but Dogman, is pretty strong. He may look twiggy, but he is an engineer! You NEED upper body strength to do work. Heres a post I made about it

Petey has a depression shaped pit in is bed. He didn't buy that pit, it's something he earned with hard work and so can you. Lil Petey likes loafing in it.

Petey can easily keep working in his workshop for the whole day without eating or using the bathroom if you don't make him take a break. When he's in the zone he forgets he got a body that has needs and can drop dead if he doesn't fulfill those needs.

Petey knew how to cook from his mom but didn't really start cooking till he got Lil Petey. He just ate takeout EVERYDAY cause he was too busy and depressed to cook, and his butler didn't give af to cook for him if he's just gonna to complain. But of course after getting Lil Petey he wasn't going to fed him takeout! So it went from frozen chicken nuggets and apple sauce to homemade pork stirfry and curry rice.

That care in cooking for others also goes to Dogman as well, neither of them had healthy eating habits so they made a deal to help each other in their journey. Dogman would eventually get told by the doctor that he needs to cut the dogfood cause his human body can digest all of that, so Petey is now cook pack lunches for him as well. And personally meals that taste good for his dog tongue, and Dogman gives him the biggest kisses for that.

I'm currently working on a comic for this next one but Petey feels like has no friends. He never just hanged out with any of the gang just to hangout by themselves. He feels like everyone is close friends with each other but not him, they all hang out around him because they're friends with Dogman. And the only reason they knows so much about him is because he trauma dumps on them. But he'll later learn that they do care about him outside of being close to Dogman and they'll hangout and get to know each other more.

Petey has sensitive beans, particularly to the cold. He's gonna be wearing socks and mittens if there's no heating which is funny cause cats usually hate them.

Petey is actually fluffy but just licks his fur down.

He's tail always is bent and not in a normal way but if you crushed paper and tried to lay it back, it still is bent and slowly goes back to that bent form. The only way to make Petey's tail go completely straight is if you surprise him or made him relax to the ninth degree.

Petey still has cat behavior just like how Dogman has dog behavior but unlike him, Petey controls his behavior. He basically masks everyday because of a whole social class stuff I can't explain rn. Cuz he wants to be taken seriously and not just seen as some house pet.

He once made a throne out of boxes and sat in it till Lil Petey or Dogman came back home. No reason for it, he just wanted to feel like a king.

Petey loves midday naps but the sun cuz he's a cat and old. It's true that you'll need more midday naps when you're older.

If I had to give a inuniverse reason for how he understands sign language it's because Petey learned from his mom. When Petey was younger and had a moment where he mad and overwhelmed he would have a hard time explaining his thoughts. Grace taught him sign language so he can explain his thoughts even if all he can verbally do is scream.

When Grace died, Petey was put into adoption and stayed there for a while because of his age and his behavioral problems. But he eventually got adopted by Dr Dilbert Dinkles, he was perfect for his needs, not a child so he won't cry, a cat can take care of themselves and behaving poorly is exactly what villains in training need to be bad. So Petey got adopted by the worst person possible and we know how the rest of the story goes.

Despite that fact that Dilbert is a doctor, Petey had the upper hand on him. He has street smarts, and when you know to build robots and know to use the robots to their full evil potential then you become a true villain to fear.

Petey and Flippy could very well be friends but Petey is literally just holding a grudge against him for some reason? Seriously idk why they're not friends, I think Flippy wants to be friends with him too but it just Petey that's in the way of that in canon. Like- please stop being an ahole for a second and just talk!

Petey also try his hand at gardening... Dogman keeps rolling on his flowers.

And that pretty much all the headcanons I can think of, I still do have my visual hc but yall always know it

heres a lil collage I made from my petey moodboard

And you already know the playlist

[cowboyidiot]

mark s shutting down just like his outie because he doesn’t want to deal with the fact that he feels so fucking stupid for being tricked by helena and he can’t even know if helly being back isn’t another lie they’re telling him and if it is helly what does he even tell her and if it isn’t they know everything anyway and actually let’s make this funeral as short as possible because irving tried to tell him so many times something was wrong and he was right and there’s no point and he thinks it’s his fault irving died anyway so he can’t think about that either meanwhile helly doesn’t understand why mark won’t talk to her and absolutely thinks that it’s because he doesn’t trust her because she’s an eagan but don’t worry because once she finds out what happened and that everybody knows they fucked she’s gonna have a level 20 crash out that even mark “avoidance attachment” scout can’t avoid

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔑𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔫 Mike Schmidt x male reader

Summary: A request that I received from a friend of mine. “Abby forces the reader and Mike to roleplay with her, with Abby being the personal royal guard, reader the prince and Mike an assassin. Both of them notice the tension between them especially when Mike has to kidnap the reader and interrogate him, but of course there's a child around so they push the thought to the side, that is until that night where Mike or the reader starts the roleplaying by being their character, then smut ensues.”

Tags: Part 13 of this series of Mike Schmidt x male reader but can be read as a standalone as usual. No use of Y/N. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Mike is a perfect grumpy older brother. Lots of sensual tension. Smut. Fluffy smut. Top Mike. Dom Mike. Bottom reader. Roleplay but nothing too explicit. Anal sex.

Words count: 3500

Part 1-Part 2- Part 3-Part 4-Part 5-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8 -Part 9-Part 10-Part 11-Part 12

Abby is absolutely beaming as she stands before you, her arms wrapped around your left arm, vibrating with excitement. Her makeshift paper weapons crinkles slightly as she shifts, puffing out her chest like a true knight standing guard before their royal charge.

"You have nothing to fear, Your Highness!" she declares, squeezing your arm with all the strength she had. "I’ll protect you from the evil forces that threaten this kingdom!"

You try to keep a straight face, but the energy radiating off of her is infectious. The grin you're holding back finally breaks free and you laugh.

"I feel safer already," you tell her, earning a proud nod.

Across the room, Mike sits slouched against the couch, arms crossed, brows furrowed in deep, long-suffering irritation. He watches the two of you with a deadpan expression that only deepens as Abby tightens her grip around your arm, glancing at him with barely contained amusement.

"And as for you, assassin—"she says, turning her sharp gaze toward her older brother, spitting the word out like it personally offends her, "—if you dare lay a single hand on the prince, you will not escape me!"

Mike lets out the longest, most exasperated sigh you've ever heard.

"Why am I always the bad guy?" he grumbles, slouching even further.

"Because you're perfect for it!" Abby fires back at her older brother without missing a beat.

Mike levels a dry, unimpressed look at her. "Perfect for it?"

You let out a snort and Abby dissolves into giggles, her arms tightening around yours as she leans against you for support. The two of you laugh together, your shoulders shaking, and Mike watches, lips pressing into a flat line.

His gaze flickers toward you, it lingers just a little too long.

Something about that look sends a warmth curling in your stomach.

"Real funny," Mike mutters, shaking his head. But he's watching you now, more than Abby, like he's committing the sight of you smiling, laughing, enjoying yourself to memory.

Abby, still grinning, shoves a crumpled piece of paper at you.

"Here," she says. "Your crown."

It's unevenly cut, scribbled on with what looks like cheap yellow highlighter, but she places it on your head with all the reverence of a true coronation.

"Your Highness," she says solemnly.

Mike, still watching, huffs a quiet laugh through his nose.

"You guys are ridiculous," he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face.

"You're just mad 'cause you're losing," Abby taunts.

"I'm literally just sitting here," he deadpans

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says, turning back to you with that same bright grin. "You can count on me, I won't let you out of my sight!"

And she doesn't.

For the next few minutes, Abby paces, arms crossed, looking around the room as if an attack is imminent, dramatically "scouts" the area for any lurking threats.

Mike, meanwhile, is still unmoving on the couch, watching all of this with thinly veiled amusement.

He then shifts, sitting forward, stretching out his legs and running a tired hand through his hair. He cocks his head slightly, eyes locking onto you. His gaze is heavy, slow, dragging over you like a predator sizing up prey.

In a blur of movement, he sidesteps his little sister, grabbing her by the shoulders and gently, but firmly guiding her backward onto the bed. She yelps as she lands, her paper sword flopping to the side.

"HEY—!" She yelps and giggles in protest while trying to regain balance.

He's on you in an instant.

You barely register the sensation of being lifted, arms curling instinctively around Mike's shoulders as he sweeps you up effortlessly, holding you in his arms and making your stomach flips.

"Mike!" you burst out, laughing, your fingers clenching at the fabric of his hoodie.

Mike, still entirely in character, only huffs, tightening his grip.

"Quiet," he mutters, already moving.

You hear Abby's outraged cries behind you as Mike bolts from the room, your laughter echoing in the hallway.

The slam of the door echoes through the small space, sealing you and Mike away. The distant sound of Abby's protests barely registers. Your pulse is hammering too loudly in your ears, your breath caught somewhere between the leftover laughter from the chase and the sharp realization of just how close he still is.

He hasn't let you go, leaning against the door to block any attempt Abby was making at opening it.

His body is warm, solid and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the faintest hitch of breath as he exhales.

The game feels very different now.

Mike is still holding you, chest rising and falling against yours, one arm hooked under your knees, the other braced across your back, pinning you against him like he's not quite ready to set you down yet.

His grip loosens just enough for your feet to brush the ground, but he doesn't step back. Doesn't put any real distance between you. Instead, his fingers tighten just slightly at your waist, grounding himself as he shifts his weight, pressing you lightly against the nearest wall.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"It's just you and me, your Highness," he says, dragging out the title like he's testing how it sounds in his mouth, voice low, rough, edged with something that sends a spark of heat curling deep in your stomach.

Your breath hitches, caught somewhere between the lingering remnants of the game and the sharp, undeniable tension settling thick in the air.

Outside, Abby's small fists bang against the door, her muffled voice filled with laughter.

"You coward! Come out and fight me!"

Mike huffs a quiet chuckle, barely sparing the door a glance. His focus is all on you now.

His eyes flicker over your face, slow and deliberate, and fuck, the way he's looking at you makes your skin prickle with heat.

You swallow hard.

"Are you… uh, are you gonna lock me in a tower or something?" you try to joke, but your voice comes out weaker than you intended.

Mike hums, tilting his head slightly, considering.

"Nah," he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer, his breath ghosting against your cheek. "I think I'll keep you right here."

Your stomach flips.

The space between you is nonexistent now, his body practically caging you in against the wall, his fingers still resting against your waist, pressing in just enough to remind you that he's there, that he's touching you.

His lips brush against the shell of your ear.

"You're not nearly as afraid as you should be," he murmurs, voice dipping into something dangerously low, something that makes your spine go rigid. "Makes me wonder… you like being manhandled like this, don't you?"

A shiver rakes down your spine.

Is he seriously gonna keep the act even without Abby around?

Your body betrays you without a single word and he catches it immediately.

His grip shifts, fingers brushing just under the hem of your shirt, barely skimming the warm skin beneath and it takes everything in you not to react, not to make a sound.

He chuckles, low and deep, the sound vibrating against you.

"You do like it," he muses, pulling back just enough to look at you again. His eyes are dark, lidded, full of something you definitely shouldn't be indulging in right now.

He leans back in, close enough that his lips are just brushing your ear again and what he says next makes the heat in your stomach plummet.

"If we were alone right now, I'd have you on your knees so fast you wouldn't know what hit you."

Your breath stops.

Holy shit.

Was he seriously keeping this up?

He was enjoying this. And fuck, so were you.

Heat pooled deep in your stomach, sharp and electric from how well he was doing it. Driving you insane to the point of making you grin. A slow, wicked thing that you know he wasn't expecting.

"Yeah?" you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. "That's a promise?"

Because if this was just a game to him, then fine. You could play too.

Mike's breath hitches just slightly, enough to let you know that you got him, even if only for a second.

"MIKE! OPEN THE DOOR!"

Abby's voice, bright and full of energy, shatters the moment like a hammer through glass.

Mike groans, pulling back just enough to glare at the door, running a tired hand down his face.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath.

You bite back a laugh, still riding the high of what just happened.

He kisses you.

It's fast, barely a peck, but fuck, it still leaves your lips tingling, leaves your stomach flipping wildly as he pulls back.

Mike looks back at you, eyes dark, jaw tight, something dangerous still flickering beneath his grumpy exhaustion.

"This isn't over," he mutters.

Fuck. You can't wait.

You don't even have time to react before he turns and unlocks the door and Abby soon storms in, paper sword raised high.

"Unhand the prince, you villain!"

Mike barely has time to react before Abby whacks him across the arm, her tiny strength amplified by sheer determination.

"Ow—Jesus, Abby—"

"That's Sir Abby to you!" she declares, striking again, relentless. "You have been defeated! Surrender now!"

Mike groans, throwing his hands up in surrender, stepping away from you.

The moment the ‘assassin’ is defeated, Abby is back to pacing the room, chin held high, arms crossed, the very image of a victorious knight. She's already explaining the next phase of the game, something about restoring order to the kingdom, but you can barely focus.

Not with the way Mike keeps looking at you.

He's doing a shit job at pretending nothing happened. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, slow and absentminded, his jaw set like he's grinding his teeth, fingers flexing at his sides like he doesn't trust himself to move.

You don't think twice before moving toward the floor and sitting right between Mike's legs. Your back resting against his chest comfortably as Abby flops onto her stomach in front of you, explaining the next silly chapter eagerly.

You shift to get more comfortable.

And fuck.

You feel it.

The hardness pressing against your backside. Mike's entire body tenses behind you, fingers digging into your waist on instinct, a sharp inhale barely masked by the sound of Abby's excited chatter.

You swallow hard as Abby gets up to run towards her room to gather the things she needed but that you didn’t paid attention to, hands bracing against your thighs as you try to keep your breathing steady, try to pretend like you didn't just press right up against Mike's hard-on, like you aren't feeling the heat of his breath ghost against your ear.

"You little shit." The words are low, growled into your ear, but there's no real heat behind them. Just desire. His hands tighten their grip, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, not pulling you closer but definitely making sure you don't move any further.

Your stomach twists, heat pooling low, fingers clenching into fists against your thighs.

You want to push back, want to grind against him, want to make it worse, but Abby is soon back inside the room, still chirping and still completely unaware.

So you bite your lip, swallow down the smug grin threatening to creep onto your face and pretend like you don't notice the way Mike's hands remain glued to your hips or his breathing being a little too shallow.

It's a game you made for him to keep him engaged.

A different one.

And you're winning.

The rest of the game goes on, but the real battle is happening in stolen glances, in subtle touches, in the way every accidental brush of fingers or shift of weight feels like a deliberate test of restraint.

You see the way his jaw clenches every time you lean too close. Feel the way his fingers twitch every time you shift near him.

And every time Abby isn't looking, every time she's too focused on her next move, he shoots you a look. A silent warning.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

It isn't until much later, when Abby is curled up on her bed, blanket pulled up to her chin, soft snores filling the room, that the dam finally cracks.

In the quiet, you and Mike lay tangled together on your and his bed.

He exhales slowly, arm draped over your waist. His body is heavy against yours, warm and solid, his breath steady but edged with the last remnants of the day's exhaustion.

"She always makes me the bad guy," he mutters, voice rough, tired, barely above a whisper

You huff a quiet laugh. "She probably just likes me more."

Mike groans, nudging his face against your cheek in protest. "Not helping."

You grin, pressing back into him just slightly, enough to feel the way he molds against you so easily. His grip tightens, fingers dragging lazily over your waist.

"Fuck, I'm so tired," he grumbles, voice muffled against your skin. "But if I sleep now, I know I'm waking up at four A.M. like some owl."

You snicker at the accuracy of it. "Like that one time you woke up, couldn't fall back asleep and kept tossing so much you nearly kicked me off the bed?"

Mike groans again, this time more dramatically. "Don't remind me."

Oh, but you remember.

You remember the way he'd shifted restlessly, the frustrated sighs from the way his body refused to just fucking relax.

And you remembered what you did to help.

What you would always let him do.

The thought makes your stomach tighten, a slow, familiar heat unfurling deep inside you. Because when frustrated he was always so fucking hot. So eager to completely wreck you until there was nothing left but exhaustion and satisfaction.

Mike, still unaware of the direction your thoughts have taken, shifts against you, his arm tightening, his hand pressing firm against your hip like he needs the contact to ground himself.

You swallow, a smirk playing on your lips. "I could help you sleep, you know."

Mike makes a sound low in his throat, half a chuckle, half a groan. "Yeah?" His head tilts, shifting just slightly, enough that your lips are suddenly millimeters apart. His breath is warm, slow, teasing. "You gonna knock me out with a punch?"

You laugh, short and breathless against his lips, feeling his own curl into a smirk. The tension stretches, tightens, every second dragging out into something unbearably thick.

"I mean," you murmur, tilting your head just slightly, "after all, I am still being held hostage by the…" You pause, pretending to think, letting your fingers graze along his arm. "What did Abby call you again?"

Mike's eyes flicker, amusement laced with something much darker. "Pretty sure she called me a 'dirty rogue’, or some shit like that."

You hum, pretending to consider. "Right. That."

His fingers twitch against your hip.

You lean in, voice dipping lower. "I just want to make sure my captor trusts me."

Mike's breath catches.

His grip tightens.

And then, in a voice so low and rough "The naughty prince," he murmurs, "offering up his body for salvation."

Heat rushes through you, molten and consuming, and that's the moment where there's no turning back, no pretending this is still some slow, innocent game.

The air snaps.

Mike's mouth crashes against yours, hot and hungry, his grip locking tight around your waist as he rolls you fully onto your back. His body hovers over yours, heat bleeding through fabric, a solid weight that leaves you breathless.

His stubble scrapes against your skin as he moves from your lips to your jaw, down the line of your throat, his teeth dragging over your pulse point before he bites down, moving over every inch of exposed skin, lips, tongue, teeth working together to mark you up as his. By the time he's done, your skin is hot and tingling, littered with bruises and bites, proof of his ownership.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him in, and the groan that rumbles in his chest is vibrating against your lips as he deepens the kiss.

His hand drags down your body, rough and possessive, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt before shoving it up, exposing skin to the cool air.

"Fuck, you drive me crazy," he mutters, his lips trailing down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your throat, teeth grazing just enough to send a shudder raking through you.

The hard line of him is impossible to ignore, hot and thick against your thigh and you arch up into him, reveling in the way his breath hitches and how his hands move, restless and greedy. Rough, calloused from years of hard work and they trace over your skin with a kind of reverence that makes your stomach twist.

Mike's grip tightens on your wrists, pinning them above your head as he presses his forehead to yours, his voice dipping low, rough.

"No one's coming to save you now," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your mouth.

Your breath catches, a slow, delicious heat coiling low in your stomach. "Is that so?"

Mike hums, dragging his lips down, keeping on pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your throat.

"You’re now mine to do whatever the fuck I want with," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “…and you don't even know the half of it, your Highness."

Your head tips back, a moan threatening to escape, but Mike is quick, dragging his mouth back to yours, swallowing the sound before it can leave your lips. His tongue presses inside, deep into this demanding kiss.

A set of fingers dip lower, pressing into you with a slow, torturous precision. You gasp against his mouth, your back arching off the mattress as he works you open, his touch impatient, unrelenting.

You try to bite back a noise, but he catches your reaction immediately, smirking as he adds another finger, stretching you, pressing deeper, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

You grip his wrist, nails digging into his skin. "Stop teasing."

Mike chuckles, low and dark, but there's a glint in his eye now, something sharp and wicked.

"You don't give orders here, prince."

Your stomach flips, your cock twitching at the way he says it. His movements grow more insistent and purposeful. His free hand grips your thigh, spreading you open beneath him, and you're already trembling and on the verge of coming undone beneath his touch.

When he finally pulls his fingers away, you barely have time to register the loss before he's pressing the thick length of himself against you, dragging the head over your entrance, teasing you with slow, deliberate movements.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your jaw, his voice nothing but a rough whisper.

"I'm the one in charge."

He pushes inside.

The stretch is sharp, overwhelming, your body adjusting around the thick length of him. No matter how many times he's had you like this, the feeling of him pushing inside, stretching you open, always leaves you breathless.

"Jesus," Mike grits out, his fingers digging into your hips as he sinks deeper. "You're taking me so well."

You can't even form words, can barely breathe, your body tightening around him as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours. He groans, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he exhales, breath warm against your skin.

His first thrust is slow and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls before pulling back and slamming in again, the force knocking the air from your lungs.

"Fuck—"

Mike grins against your skin, his pace quickening, each thrust hitting deep, rough, unrelenting. His grip on your hips is bruising, his breath ragged as he fucks into you with single-minded determination, as though he wanted you to feel every inch of him with each thrust.

You could barely respond through clenched teeth, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, your head falling back against the pillow as pleasure rippled through you with each powerful thrust. His name escaped your lips in a breathless moan and the sound seemed to drive him wild

Mike groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you, as his hips began to move faster, the control he had been clinging to slipping away. One hand slid down to grip your thigh, lifting your leg higher around his waist to allow him deeper and you cried out at the new angle, your body arching against him.

His other hand slid up your body, pausing to tease your nipple before moving to cradle your jaw.

His hips snapped forward again, harder this time, and a deep groan escaped him as he buried himself to the hilt. His hand slid down your body, gripping your waist tightly as he began to move faster, his rhythm building into something desperate and primal.

The friction was almost too much, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building into a heat that coiled low in your belly and he seemed to sense it, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he leaned in to capture your mouth in a searing kiss.

His tongue delved past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that matched the movement of his hips. He swallowed your moans, his teeth catching your lower lip as he pulled back.

Your body locking up as pleasure consumes you, your release spilling between your bodies. Mike groans, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own high, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slams in one last time, his release spilling into you in hot, pulsing waves with a broken, guttural sound.

The room is still thick with heat, air heavy with the scent of sex and the shared breaths between you. Mike hasn't moved much, his body still draped over yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress like he's too spent to even consider shifting.

"You good?" you murmur, running lazy fingers through his messy hair, feeling the way his breath stirs against your neck.

Mike grunts, barely lifting his head, his lips brushing against your collarbone in something too lazy to be a kiss, but too deliberate to be anything else. "Too tired," he mutters. "You're my problem now."

You snort, pitching his side. "I'm your problem? Pretty sure you're the one who kidnapped me, villain"

He huffs a laugh, finally shifting just enough to glance up at you. Forehead glistening with sweat just like your own, his eyes still heavy-lidded with exhaustion and something more.

"Yeah, well," he shrugs, "if I remember correctly, you didn't put up much of a fight."

You roll your eyes. "Was I supposed to?"

Mike smirks, shifting so he's hovering just enough to look down at you, his hands lazily tracing the curve of your waist. "You should know better by now," he murmurs, his voice dipping into that low, teasing register that always gets to you. "I like when you put up a fight."

Heat flickers down your spine, but you refuse to let him have this one so easily. Instead, you lift a brow, lips quaking into a smirk of your own. "Someone was moaning pretty loud for a guy who claims to like resistance."

Mike freezes.

You feel the way his grip tightens, his breath catches before he exhales sharply through his nose. His jaw shifts, lips pressing together in a tight line like he's running damage control inside his head.

You grin. Got him.

But instead of getting flustered, Mike does what Mike always does. He retaliates.

With no warning, he shifts, rolling you onto your stomach before yanking you back against him in one swift motion. His arm hooks around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest, his lips ghosting over your ear

"You really wanna test me right now?" he murmurs, his voice low, gravelly, edged with amusement before clapping a hand over your mouth.

"Alright, that's enough outta you," he mutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the way his chest rumbles slightly with quiet laughter.

You bite his hand.

"Ow—Jesus," Mike pulls back, shaking out his fingers. "Did you just—did you seriously—“

"Don't dish it if you can't take it, rogue," you shoot back, rolling over to face him with the smuggest grin you can muster.

Mike glares at you, but there's no heat behind it, just that familiar exasperation you know he secretly enjoys. He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face before flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm too tired for this," he grumbles.

You chuckle, shifting so you can rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath you. His arm comes up instinctively, draping over your shoulders, fingers tracing mindless patterns against your skin.

Excitement lights up your insides to see how he gets his revenge.

[smol-guppy-wuppy]

Didn't realize I accidentally deleted the first post of this guy 😭

Ummm this one's my first transformers oc lol

One is a general version and the other is specially transformers one!

Second made transformers oc here

Info for them below!

General

A Cybertronian soldier who grew tired of fighting and sought a more peaceful life. He didn't want to deal with anymore losses and the overall draining task of fighting the Decepticons, so he found himself a new planet to take refuge upon; Earth.

Ever the optimist, she figured things would go well. L0-V3 took form of a simple punch buggy living in an old car yard. It was a relatively simple life, they liked it.

Soon enough, they found themselves being "purchased" by a young woman. He looked the part of being an old car, but he obviously functioned properly. Given the look, he was sold off for a cheaper prince.

L was tempted to leave after being brought to the woman's home, but she had overheard that she was meant to be given as some really important gift to the woman's partner. This made him feel a bit bad, so he figured he'd stay put to make them happy, at least for a little while.

This led to her eventually being discovered as a sentient robot by the woman he was gifted to. He then quickly becomes friends with her, Millie, and she teaches L everything there is to know about earth. She ends up gifting him a set of pink fuzzy dice and they end up being his favorite thing ever!!

Millie's girlfriend, the one who "bought" L for her, found out about him being well—alive, and the two don't really get along much. It's more of just them tolerating each other.

Their whole situation lasts about a year or so before things take a turn for the worst.

L ends up being found by Decepticons scouting the earth after hearing it was a possible place of hiding for the Autobots through an intercepted comm link from Optimus Prime himself.

They believe that L knows where their "secret base" is, but they didn't even directly know Optimus, just joined what he was fighting for because of the bots they surrounded themselves with (along with their own beliefs of course).

Things go wrong, he was approached at night while close to Millie's house in the woods. She ends up feeling something was wrong and winds up investigating it. The Decepticons quickly learned the two were close when she came out calling out for L by name. They use her as a means to get information from L, threatening the humans life, but the problem is that he has no information.

A barrage of snarky words from Millie and a "refusal" of information on L's part are something the Decepticons aren't pleased with. In retaliation, they simply dealt Millie a fatal wound.

This leaves L in a flurry of emotions, which ends up with him fighting the two Decepticons. The fight draws the attention of Millie's girlfriend, who hadn't heard the confrontation until it grew as loud as it was.

She was met by a gruesome sight of both wrecked Decepticons and her motionless girlfriend. Upon taking in the situation she exploded into a fit of sorrowful rage, blaming her death on L, saying he should have left the day he was brought back to their home.

This left them feeling disheartened and hurt. But she couldn't lie to herself, the woman was right. She sat before her girlfriend, the silence deafening.

He ducked his head in shame, so he didn't realize one of the Decepticons was still conscious, and it lunged to attack. He let it happen, but made a point to keep it far from the woman.

It didn't take long before the Decepticon went to deliver a lethal blow, they were going to let it happen, but it was quickly deflected by a blur of crimson.

It was Optimus Prime, joined by Bumblebee, who went to protect the woman nearby as the Prime assisted L. Apparently the autobots had received a distress singnal L had unintentionally sent upon her friend's passing, and were near enough to help out.

The both of them protected the two, with the human being left to her own devices after the fact, since she refused to be near them any longer (she ended up moving far away once the whole situation was over).

Optimus and Bumblebee helped Lovebug, aiding her in getting herself more together.

He becomes a lot more gruff towards other bots, scared of the thought of being close to others again. They'd rather make any problem their problem, and they want to rush in and deal with whatever problem it is on their own as way to not lose anyone.

It wasn't like they didn't experience loss on Cybertron... but after coming to earth, he believed that he wouldn't have to go through that feeling again. Especially over someone who had nothing to do with the war, and was so much more vulnerable compared to her. The autobots are nowhere near as vulnerable, but he can't help but being afraid of losing them and being blamed for it.

He tends to jump first into missions, insisting that he takes the brunt of the work just in case anything happens. Anyone going in before him makes him nevous, he can't help it.

The only ones she's super nice to are Optimus and Bumblebee, given that they were the ones who came to her aid. Despite the sweeter words being reserved for the two, it's clear that L has still built some walls that even they struggle to get past.

Bee is a good friend, since he always tries his best to cheer them up by showing them that everything is so cool and awesome and that life is totally worth living even after loss. They believe him deep down, but struggle to admit it.

With Optimus it's more of a softness that the two share. Moments of simple silence and a sense of vulnerability that neither verbally share, but can feel.

Around the entire group they're not as nice to the two, afraid to show that vulnerability in front of the others, but ooohh they can still tell regardless. They all know L care's, just in their own special way.

Transformers One (not as solid and more of a fun what if)

I was thinking of having him be good friends with d-16 and orion at the very start, being a miner alongside them. but I feel like that's so predictable....

Sooo I'm having her be one of the miner superiors that guides them and tells them what to do! But she's so much more nicer about it and doesn't treat them like any less the way darkwing is shown to be doing in the movie.

And obviously as a bot able to transform, they take part in the iacon race and tend to make it pretty high up the ranking. So this is also something that makes orion and d-16 admire them!

After the two participate in the race as miners, lovebug goes and sings their praises, telling them that they were both so cool for showing the city, especially the miners, that anyone can do anything they really put their mind into.

He's particularly impressed with orion given that he was so willing to help his hurt friend towards the end, despite the chances of them both winning that way being slim to none. She admired his caring and go getting nature from the start, since she supervised his work in the mines and such.

Before he can say much more than that, sentinel comes in and sends him off so he can talk to the two of them.

I imagine after figuring out the truth, lovebug was just super worried about orion and d-16, and how the two felt about the whole thing. Come to find out, it was them who revealed the truth.

And lovebug finds that out when the two are seen in the middle (?) of the city standing before sentinel.

And once d drops orion off the ledge? That's when she steps in and helps bee and elita to try and get him to stop the damage he started causing around the city.

This ends with them standing above him, foot on his chest, with a look of just. disappointment. Them overpowering him caught megatron off guard, so he merely stays there.

L looks at him and is like, "After hearing the truth, I thought you'd be better than him (sentinel)... You're allowed to be angry, there's nothing wrong with that. I'm angry, but that anger shouldn't control your actions. You let him (orion) go because you know that. Be better, be the bigger bot..."

And well. that pisses him off. He IS the better bot, and he needs everyone to understand him. so the places end up being switched and he has a blaster to L's face. Before he can fire, orion finally rises back up as optimus prime. He quickly gets L out of the way and that's when the fight between optimus and megatron ensues.

Once it's over, optimus checks on them, making sure they're alright, and they hug him and. as a way of coping she tries to be humorous and is like, "heh. never thought I'd live to see the day where you're taller than me—"

AND UGH BLAH BLAH BLAH LAUGHTER. HE ASKS IF HE WANTS TO HELP HIM MAKE IACON A BETTER PLACE. SHE AGREES. AND NOW THAT'S OPTIMUS' RIGHT HAND MAN IN THIS UNIVERSE AND ITS AN UNSPOKEN UNLABELED THING WHERE THEY ALSO END UP HOLDING HANDS AND MAYBE KISSING

[entitled-fangirl]

White noise.

Jason Todd x deaf!reader

Summary: the reader loves music. Jason finds himself slowing liking it too.

Masterlist

..........................................................

Jason had never been a music guy.

He liked it enough. It was okay. But she loved it.

The irony of it made him shake his head at the thought.

She had loved music since she was young. She was always singing some tune, humming along and she went about her daily chores.

That's when he decided he liked music.

And his favorite part was when she didn't know she was doing it.

She was currently folding the laundry, setting it across the couch in assorted piles. She had her hearing aids in, her phone connected to them. So, while he couldn't hear the actual song, he could guess it from her humming alone.

Entirely amused, he leaned against the doorway from the hall with a cheeky grin.

Finishing the basket, she turned, pausing at the sight of him. She fished for her phone, pausing her music and waiting for the outside noise to come back. "I was being loud, wasn't I?"

He shrugged, pushing off the wall. "I don't mind."

"That means yes," she groaned.

He chuckled and stepped over to her, plucking the basket away and tugging her against his chest. "You can play it out loud, if you want. You're really not gonna bother me, baby."

She sighed, resting a cheek on his chest, ignoring the crumpling sound against her ear. "Hard for you to plan badass missions while listening to Harry Styles."

He grinned. He had guessed it was Styles by her humming. "Don't care. Listen to whatever you want. You're not a hindrance, you know."

"Compromise?"

His smile grew. She always did this when worrying about only getting her way. "Fire away."

"What about like… relaxing noises instead. Like white noise, or… rain or something?"

"White noise? What the fuck is that?"

"It's like… just sound. I don't know. I've never given it a try."

His hand ran through her hair, twirling the strands. "Alright. Why not."

She grabbed the remote to the TV, pulling up the first white noise YouTube video that came up. They patiently waited for the ads to play through. 

The sound of static filled the room, the video playing away.

They both stared for a while, trying to decide if they liked it or not.

Finally, Jason nodded. "Yeah. Compromise. That's fine." He dipped his head down and gave her a brief kiss before disappearing back in his little lair (the office in their tiny apartment).

His desk was lined with maps and papers that had his  scribbles across them. He had his next mission scouted out, large circles in various places across the city. She'd bought him a pack of markers last Christmas and by god, he was gonna use them. So each Wayne had a color assigned to them.

He spent the next hour hunched over that desk until he could feel the tension in his shoulders. He stretched, groaning at the pop that came with it. The video had stopped playing in the next room, and she had yet to turn it back on. He assumed her hands were full, or she was simply busy, so he took it upon himself to go look.

But she hadn't reacted at all. She was still folding the next load of clothes like nothing had happened. 

"Baby?"

No answer.

Her goddamn hearing aids were setting on the sofa.

He sighed and walked to her carefully, placing a steady hand to her back to let her know he was there. He reached over her with the other to pick up the aids. 

He twirled one between his fingers and gave her a look.

She sheepishly smiled and grabbed them, putting them back in.

He gave her a minute, waiting for her eyes to light back up at the feeling of sound coming back to her. "Thought you wanted to listen to this?"

"Sorry, Jace. I tried. I really did."

"What's going on with you?"

"It's just…" She sighed, grabbing the remote. "The frequencies were… messing with my hearing is all."

He held his hands up. "Then why didn't you turn it off? You just decided not to hear at all over playing your music like I told you to in the first place?"

Her eyes turned guilty. "I just thought maybe you were enjoying it."

He gave a dramatic sigh, like he truly didn't understand. 

"I really am sorry, Jason," she clammed up. "I didn't think-"

"-Woah, woah. Easy, baby. I'm not mad at you." He tipped her chin up. "You think I'm mad at you?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know."

He couldn't stop the grin working up his face. "Well. Keep those in. I'll figure this out." He took the remote from her, flipping through things until he got to their music app. 

And played her favorite album.

"There. Perfect."

"It'll bother you-"

"-It won't."

She grabbed at the remote, and he held it further out. "Love you."

She huffed, "Jason-"

"Say it back."

"Give me the remote-"

"-Say it back," he teased again, stretching his arm higher. 

"Ugh, fine. I love you. Or whatever." She gave up, crossing her arms and pouting.

"I know, baby." He leaned in, giving her a kiss like he had an hour ago, then disappeared, taking the remote with him.

She wanted to keep being mad. But she wasn't. She wasn't at all.

Especially with her favorite music playing.

...

The next patrol, Jason found himself humming.

"Dude," Dick laughed, "Are you humming Harry St-"

"Shut up."

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[yikesss-08]

—BLESSINGS!

(JJK Megumi × Reader)

Chapter: 8/?

Words: 17, 938

Summary: you're trying to get out of your arranged marriage while trying to balance your growing feelings for your best friend <3

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61532893

▹ chapter two!

A few weeks had passed by and before you knew it summer break was over, just another reason to be unhappy after the fact you couldn't stay in your room and do nothing all day anymore.

The first week of school went by fast, a blur of getting reaccustomed to waking up early and unfortunately doing mundane work to your obvious dismay. It was always made more bearable with Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi there with you as well with your shared classes all together.

As odd as it seemed, you four didn't usually eat lunch together, maybe a few times, but you each went to your separate friends groups. Except for you and Megumi who ate lunch together more often than not.

To Yuji and Nobara, being stuck with everyone (literally you and Megumi) back at the dormitories was already enough. Back at 'real' school was their breath of fresh air and how they 'socialized' in their words...

Yuji who was well-liked on campus and just as well-known with his reputation, mostly hung out with his occult research club friends, Sasaki, Iguchi, and Junpei. He was always scouted by people from the sports and bodybuilding clubs but he always politely declined.

Nobara on the same hand was well-known maybe not as well-liked with her tendency for instigating and gossip since she was the type of person who'd always have the fight video and know about everything before anyone else.

The people who loved her loved and the ones who didn't didn't. But to her, she couldn't care less who thought what of her.

Then there was Megumi. Most people only knew of him through Tsumiki, who to them was the complete opposite of him. Other than the few acquaintances he speaks to now and then about classwork, he sticks to himself and no one goes out of their way to change that.

After 4th period with your friend Hiyori, you two were walking out of the classroom after the bell had rung, idly listening to her gush about her latest boyfriend which transitioned into her convincing you that it was time for you to find yourself one as if that finding a relationship was as easy as just going to the store and picking something up.

"You know, you have the perfect opportunity right in front of you but you're too scared to ask him out." She teased, nodding towards the direction of the aforementioned guy.

"What are you—" you began mid-sentence as you looked over at the end of the sparsely crowded hallway and saw Suna, his dark-brown eyes meeting yours as he gave you a wave.

Hiyori smiles slyly, elbowing you as she watches him walking towards you, the pounding in your chest making it impossible for you to breathe for a moment.

"Y/n, Hiyori, you guys wanna get lunch together?" he asked and gestured towards the lunch room that was accumulating with students, his gaze flitting to you and then to Hiyori.

Hiyori was the first to answer with a quick nod of her head and a warm smile before giving you a knowing look as if to say 'This is your chance.' "Yeah."

You just followed her lead, the nervousness gripping your words and the fear of saying something nonsensical causing you to not say anything at all and nod instead.

"I'll go get Astuko and Tomoya." she grinned, patting your shoulder while her eyes briefly lingered on Suna as she walked away leaving you both alone.

Suna smiled at you sending a hot, flutter to your stomach but your demeanor remained somewhat calm. Your words were finally coming out, calculated but natural, flowing with the conversation that was made up of how class was and how the sports team doing before slipping away into a gradual silence—though not necessarily awkward, but still very nerve-wracking on your part as he stayed right next to you, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

To hide your nervousness, your eyes stay glued onto your phone as you text Megumi a series of panicked, all-capitalized, gibberish texts about your current situation.

You felt the burn of a stare in your peripherals but brushed it off as being imaginary since Suna was still on his phone, but it was shown to be real as you both locked eyes. You quickly averted your eyes but he let a soft hum of amusement accompanied by a smile.

Waiting for you at the usual spot in the school courtyard, Megumi leaned back on the wall lazily scouring through the passing students to try and catch sight of you.

What was taking you so long?

After a few moments he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and he saw you, a sigh he didn't know he was holding in left his lips as he spotted you. His hands were shoved in his pocket as you approached him, his expression more relaxed than usual. "Hey."

You gave him a quick wave as you smiled at him, your lingering anxiety still laced in your slightly fidgety behavior. "Megumi, you wanna get lunch with us?" you ask casually to hide your anxiety futilely.

Us?

He was confused before seeing Suna trailing behind you, his impartial eyes meeting Suna's before he paused. "...No." he answered shortly, hands still in his pocket to keep from rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he was feeling awkward. His gaze went to Suna's less-than-welcoming one then to yours.

The last thing he would ever do is willingly put himself in the position to be a third wheel with you and Suna... but he'd at least root for you. From a distance of course.

"You sure? C'mon, you really don't want to?" you tried to persuade him— subtly pleading more than anything—but your attempts were strangled with a simple and succinct shake of his head.

A part of you knew he and Suna didn't exactly act like friends, more like less than cordial acquaintances than anything, but the thought of them getting along seemed nice despite how unrealistic that'd be.

"Aww. Alright then." you slightly frown, your disappointment blatantly evident but you don't push the matter. Before you can say anything else, Megumi gives you a lingering look mumbling some sort of goodbye before he walks off much to your dismay.

You felt a slight pang of guilt at the thought of Megumi having to eat lunch alone but he didn't seem to mind which wasn't exactly odd. It was in his nature to be more inclined to solitude, but you couldn't think of a time when you two didn't eat lunch together.

It was like an implicitly agreed-upon must to make the school day feel a bit more tolerable for both of you.

As you and Suna reached the cafeteria, it was anything but what you expected. The table was full of his unruly friends, most of which you were unfortunately acquainted with by association rather than choice. They didn't exactly make good company with how 'manners' had no place in their vocabulary...

You wanted to eat lunch with him, not them. You frowned, your irritation thinly veiled on your expression. What were you supposed to do? Sit there and try to make conversation with them about who knows what boys talk about for fun?

You give them an awkward wave and a tight smile, sitting down next to Suna with your lunch tray in hand, each of them eyeing you like the outsider you felt like you were.

"Y/n? Why're you here? Don't you usually eat lunch with... what's his name...?" one of his friends, Kashiro, spoke up to say what everyone else was thinking, his finger tapping against the table in forced remembrance. "Damnit, I forgot!"

Another one chimed in, stuffing a rice ball in his mouth, the words coming out muffled. "Megume?"

"Yeah, him." he let out a chuckle only pushing your annoyance closer to the edge as he grinned back at you.

Before you could open your mouth to correct him, Suna also chuckled a tinge of embarrassment on his pink-tinted cheeks at his friends' behavior. "It's Megumi." he corrected, giving you a brief glance. "And I wanted her to get lunch with me."

That answer seemed to appease them enough to get off your case and change the topic to some new game that had come out recently.

He looked at you, leaning in, shoulder brushing yours so he could whisper to you, your heart rate slightly stuttering. "They can be a bit... dense at times, but they're not bad people you know. Just a little... questionable." his reassuring smile gracing your eyes. "I hope they're not making you too..."

You quickly chime in with a shake of your head as you reach for your chopsticks, Suna mirroring your action as he took his own. "No, it's fine. I don't mind them."

Most if not all of them were on the school baseball team, just like Suna, making you excluded even more from their chatter of sports talk and questionable inside jokes you didn't even want to begin to understand.

But Suna didn't join in the conversation like usual, just eating silently and every now and then when they addressed him he'd say something.

You reach for the mandarin on your tray after finishing your food, carefully peeling off its citrusy exterior as you eat a segment, the sourness jolting your taste buds.

He watches your movements for a moment before meeting your gaze. "Did you understand Mr. Girou's lesson? I didn't understand a thing honestly." he admitted sheepishly, taking a bite of rice from his tray.

You let out a soft laugh and raised a curious brow. Despite the idiots he hung around, Suna was smart, had good grades, and was a diligent student. "Really?"

"Well, you're really smart, you probably have it down." he laughed as well, the compliment making your cheeks slightly heat up.

A smile crawled on your lips remembering Hiyori's advice, this was your chance so you took it. "I could always help you study, you know? Sometime after school?"

"I might take you up on that offer soon." he grinned, giving you a slight nudge.

After finishing your mandarin, you spoke up. "I need to wash my hands, I'll be right back," you say, as Suna gives you an affirming nod and smile.

"Try not to get lost." he joked with a butterfly-inducing chuckle as you smiled back at him briefly, rising from your seat. "I'll save your seat."

You gave him an appreciative hum before you whisked past a couple of students to get to the bathroom, the space was relatively empty compared to how crowded it could get during lunch. It didn't take long, just thoroughly washing the stickiness off before drying your dripping hands. And of course, checking your reflection in the mirror.

As you entered the cafeteria again, you stilled in your tracks your eyes trained back at the table you were at before, yet the seat you were just in was taken, someone sitting right next to Suna.

Black shoulder-length hair being the first thing you saw, and when she turned to the side face a laughing Suna, you could see her unmistakable side profile, her wide smile, her brown eyes.

Was that Hiyori?

A tinge of something laced in your expression, but what it was you couldn't tell, yet it wasn't pleasant.

Before you could think to do anything you feel your phone vibrate as you fish it out and see a text from Megumi finally replying to your previous strings of gibberish messages.

Have fun.

Your heart slightly sinks at the text, dampening your already waning mood as the guilt comes back.

Conflicting thoughts on whether you should even go back to the table and tell Hiyori you were sitting there first or sit somewhere else instead stirred in your mind. But a part of you was upset Suna hadn't even told her that seat was taken in the first place.

A frustrated sigh leaves your lips as you turn on your heel, walking down the hallway before you even knew it.

What was the point of even going back?

Slipping into the quietness of the school library, a nice change from the bustling cafeteria, you close the door behind you. You looked past the various rows of large bookshelves filled with hundreds of thick-spined books, to take a glance around.

It always had a specific smell in here, like aging paper and heady, loamy wood, a scent unique to the place.

After a brief moment, you see his distinctive black spiky hair and knew you found him, sitting in the back reading like he always was. Typical Megumi. There weren't a lot of people here either which only helped in finding him, but he was always in the same place anyway.

"There you are." you approach him, your footsteps nearly silent against the thick, woven carpet as you stood in front of the table he was sitting at.

He looks up at you neutrally. The fact you probably only came here because things probably hadn't turned out how you wanted, obvious by the slight frown tugging on your lips, instead of out of genuine concern for his well-being didn't exactly sit well with him. "I'm guessing you didn't have fun. That's why you're here?"

Well, he was laying it on thick...

"Yeah, yeah something like that... but I felt bad too, y'know? Letting you eat lunch alone." you admit in a mumbled tone, your expression as deflated as your mood.

"I have no issues eating alone." he said a bit too quickly, a hint of defensiveness creeping in his tone at what he thought was pity coming from you.

You put your hands up in mock surrender trying to lighten up the dimming mood. "You know I didn't mean it like that. I just wanted to check on you, I know we usually eat lunch together."

You plop down on the chair across from him. "So... How's your lunch been?" you curiously look over, trying to peer at what he was reading this time.

He looked back at his novel, his eyes reading the same sentence over and over mindlessly but not registering what it was saying, you were distracting him. "Fine." he muttered.

"Don't give me that." A frown taints your previous smile, bristled at his curtness.

He meets your gaze, a glint of curiosity in his eyes as he remembers. "Did you read the book I gave you?" There was an undercurrent of doubt in his tone.

But for once you could actually confidently prove him wrong, which only added a layer of smugness to your expression. "I actually did." you grinned, expecting some sort of praise.

"How far did you get through?" he probes instead, crossing his arms, slightly satisfied that you even read it.

You pause in recollection, trying to remember the sleep-hazed memory from how reading it was an impulsive late-night idea to try and get off your phone. "...Like maybe seven...? No, definitely eight."

He looks unamused once again. "Of course."

"Hey now, I was tired... I actually tried to start reading some of it." you mirror him, crossing your arms as you as an indignant huff left your lips.

He stifles the urge to roll his eyes.

He wouldn't admit but he just wanted you two to be able to talk about something you both knew. After all both his tastes and yours varied, sometimes and sometimes not aligning.

It'd be nice just being able to talk to you about it, hear you talk about what you thought of it, how it made you feel, whether it was good or not. The same way he'd listen to your mindless rants about your favorite band or maybe a movie you had watched.

But those cherished rants were coming less and less often and being replaced with stupid conversations about Suna.

God, he was starting to hate that name despite how much he tried to support your crush on him.

"...How was it? Did you eat?" he asked, a part of him knowing it didn't go well with how you weren't rambling on and on happily about how this or that happened.

You shift in your seat uncomfortably at the mention. "It was something... it's whatever though. And yeah, I did." you did a lazy stretch before you crossed your arms on the table, your head finding its way to nestle comfortably on top. Your eyes flit one more to Megumi's, meeting his gaze. "Wake me up when lunch ends?"

He gave you a simple nod, watching your eyelids rest peacefully for an extended moment, his mind a cloudy storm of conflicting thoughts he wasn't ready to admit.

A silence blanketed you both again, only interrupted slightly every time he gingerly thumbed a page.

For you, it was another break, another sliver of well-needed serenity. To temporarily forget about anything else but the current moment.

But to him this was a reminder of everything he was slowly starting to lose, starting to get less and less of.

And that wasn't a pleasant feeling, the idea that you were even slightly beginning to drift away…

.

.

.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! ^^

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61532893

[hello-gloomy]

Hello!!! Thank you for your amazing writing so far!!!

I hope if its no trouble could you please do a Xeno Houston Wingfield x reader scenario where the reader is captured at the same time as Gen (by Stanley ofc). And then Xeno kind of like falls for her because she also majors in rockets and space...or something. Feel free to ignore or change it up!

Thank you in advance!!

I love this sm, hope you like it and it's not to crack filled.

-------------------------

Black Magic

Dr. Xeno H. x Fem!Reader

-------------------

Description: Being the only American in the Kingdom of Science comes in handy when you finally make the trip to America; being a fellow scientist also helps a little too well, though.

Warnings: Mild violence, touching, the reader is said to be American, maybe a bit creepy Xeno, Sarcasm, and cursing. Maybe OOC. SPOILERS FOR THE ANIME S4.

A/N: I hope Anon enjoys this; I also couldn't help but make the reader an agent of chaos. The opportunity was too good to pass up. I hope this isn't too OOC for you guys

Words: 1,300

-------------------

The only time being American came in handy while in Japan during the petrification was when you were in the Stone World, and Senku wanted to return to America, which meant you were stuck as an encyclopedia for everyone else. When the kingdom reached Texas, you already knew something was off; it was too easy.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Were the first words out your mouth while you and everyone else were running from being shot at. While you were happy that you weren't the only ones who had progressed this far with science, you hated how American this situation was. They were firing on a bunch of randoms on their land that they hadn't seen before, very Texas; at least they didn't leave behind their amendments. After your group had made off with the plane, you were stuck with the scouting group being the only one in their natural element. When Gen had noticed how easy it was to track your attacker, he volunteered to go and find him himself. You wouldn't let him off so quickly, so you followed him just in case.

"We gonna get shot at again," You mused to Gen with a smirk, earning a disapproving look from him. When you finally stumbled upon your attacker, who promptly aimed his gun at you both, you couldn't help but burst into laughter, much to Gen's dismay. As he negotiated for your lives, the blonde with the purple lipstick instructed you to follow him to his colony while sneaking glances in your direction. You had to guess it was due to your clothing; it was more native to your home country than the one you had been staying in for so long. Gen was looking around, amazed at everything but still keeping a poker face; you, on the other hand, were dismissive of the entire operation. It was obvious that they had a smaller group than yours and hadn't found out how to un-petrify anyone yet. When you arrived at what you could tell was a lab, you were finally shown the mastermind behind this whole thing. When he turned to face you and Gen, your eyes and mouth reacted faster than your self-preservation skills.

"You're that fucking Scientist from those NASA articles!" All three men looked over at you, which made your cheeks heat at all the eyes on you.

"How elegant; it brings me pleasure to know that achievements in the old world reached multiple ends of the planet." While Stanley, as you've come to find out from one Dr. Xeno, is hooking up Gen to what you can tell is a fantastic stone world lie detector, he chats it up with you, asking where you are from, how long you've been awake, what your previous occupation was; you can't help but answer him excitedly. For someone your age and with the same or higher level of intelligence as you, it was a truly invigorating experience.

"Please stop telling the enemyyay information about us." Gen pleaded with you; he had a plan, so you did decide to be a little less loose-lipped, but you still did want to talk to the doctor while you loved talking to Senku; he was still a little too young for you, while Dr. Xeno was much older and on your level emotionally speaking in a sense.

"Relax. They're just a bunch of goths."

"Can you take this erioussay!" Gen was practically begging at this point, so you backed off and went to stand by the gunslinger instead. The Dr. went to go and question Gen, and he, in turn, worked his magic to get you both on the inside. When he called Taiju a doctor, you had to steel your face so hard not to cringe at his choice of fake leaders for your group. You saw Stanley looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"Man, Dr. Xeno must really like you." You start while glancing at his lips; he raises his brow, signaling for you to go forward with your statements about the two of them.

"Purple is a pretty difficult color to make; in ancient times, they used snails to get that color. But while doing that, the species of snail they were using were becoming less common, making it a color only used for the aristocracy." Stanley let out a huff and shook his head.

"God, your just as bad as him with this science shit." He jested, and you screwed up your face. Gen walked over to where the two of you stood along the wall and hit you in the arm. You gave him a half-hearted 'ow' while rubbing your arm.

"You can take Gen and introduce him to everyone else." Stanley nodded while Gen started to splutter reasons for you to accompany him. You waved your hand, signaling you would be fine.

"Relax, Doctor Frankenstein won't kill me." You direct to Gen. While smiling at the X-marked doctor before you, you see his lips twitch, making you smile even more significantly. Gen spares you one last glance before walking along quietly. He offers you a seat, and you take it with a small 'thank you' before taking it.

"Coffee?" he offers, and you practically moan out a yes at the thought of caffeine touching your taste buds. He brings over two mugs before pulling up a seat beside you, watching as you take your first sip and practically crying tears of joy at the taste.

"Make me a monster, and I might marry you." He huffs a little laugh.

"I will get on that for you, " he tells you while taking his own sip. He asks you how long you've been out of the stone; you hold eye contact while weighing the pros and cons of answering him. You decide to give him the time, and he nods in understanding. He also rewards you for your honesty, telling you the timeline of how long he's been out.

"It seems your technology is not too far behind ours."

"We would be farther if we weren't too busy fighting amongst ourselves." You tell him with mild exasperation, mumbling about teenagers and their angstyness.

"Why not join my group?" He offers while grasping your face and staring into your eyes intensely; those black voids make you pause.

"It would be nice to have a headstart on having more intelligence in this new world." He tells you while rubbing a clawed thumb along your face; you feel your heart move to your throat at his implication, his thoughts similar to Tsukasa's in the beginning. It made your stomach twist; you knew Senku's idea of reviving the entirety of humanity was the dream of a naive child; being a couple years his senior, you knew the reality of your situation from the start, so you decided to let Senku have his hope for the future even starting to believe it after a few years. The second you saw the shores of America is when you were brought off of the childish dream you let yourself fall into.

"There's only so many smart people in the world, you know." He chuckles quietly at your statement, moving to brush hair out of your face instead. He moves to bring out some supplies, and you lean over his shoulder in interest. Your eyes widen in recognition at what he brought out in front of you: supplies for makeup.

"Yes, and I happened to have found one of them, " he tells you, letting you make a few makeup products while he watches. He could convince you to join him and see things through his eyes; he would ensure it and never let someone with such potential slip through his claws—not now, not ever.

[the-traveling-poet]

So Clumsy In Love

~ Valentine’s Day Special ~

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎~ As resourceful and observant as Levi is, one thing about his new life above ground still throws him for a loop; how could such a simple concept as romance be so difficult for him to understand? You made him nervous—confused and unfocused. Eventually he grows tired of fearing his own emotions, and finds the perfect excuse to spend time with you; the Valentine’s Day festival downtown.

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉~ Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader, SFW, v-day themes, inexperienced love, language, cannon-verse, Levi being awkward and crass.

𝒜/𝒩~ Just a lil V-Day fic, since I missed out on doing something for Thanksgiving and Christmas :) Happy Valentines lovelies!

I might make this a mini-series eventually?? Lemme know what you think!! See below for more Levi content.

{ 1.9k words }

It had been an honest mistake, hadn't it?

How should he have known your interpretation of his words wouldn't be what he'd intended you to pick up on?

Though, in hindsight, perhaps he'd subconsciously worried you'd mistake his intent all along—he wasn't known for his poetry. He more than anyone knew this as fact.

The intended compliment he quietly uttered your way could have been more carefully thought out, to avoid confusion. The hand-up after a round on the training grounds could have been a bit more delicate, less forceful and rigid. Hell, even the smile he'd flashed your way last week probably looked more like a grimace or a scowl, now that he thought about it.

Levi honestly had tried to find a way to convey what he felt for you, in any way shape or form—but in all honesty, he wasn't good at this.

Humanity's Strongest Soldier...Seemed more fit to label him Humanity's Most Awkward Bachelor.

Life above ground has been more than he anticipated it to be; so many new sights to behold, so many new things to learn... Back in the Underground, things were much more to the point than they were up here. Much more crass, much more invasive, so much more painful...Up here, on the surface, all of that could easily apply: to certain circumstances—yet never quite so harshly as it was below the surface.

At least, that’s how Levi views it, as a fresh Scout within the Survey Corps. Perhaps one day his interpretation would change.

With having to learn how to read the people of the surface, and adapt to their so-called proper way of life, Levi was left feeling adrift. The stark contrast between their social cues and those of the underground was nothing short of overwhelming.

So, to say that romance was uncharted territory for him would be a vast understatement. It was one thing he’d never expected, never even thought on. He'd never had time for it in the past. He'd been busy surviving, and providing. But now? Now...He wasn't so sure that he couldn't carve out some time between his new duties in the Scouts to understand his emotions a bit more.

Especially the ones he'd recently taken notice of regarding you—the ones that made him stutter whenever you were around, and avoid prolonged eye contact when you spoke. The ones that sparked a warm flutter in the pit of his stomach whenever you laughed, or chanced a smile his way.

It was near maddening, in the beginning. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t understand why he felt what he did. Briefly he recalled having been urged to just really think about it, to make up his mind and listen to his own heart. He’d scoffed at them, the damned bespectacled squad leader—always sticking their nose into his business. But maybe they had a point…

So eventually, he’d done just that; he’d sorted his thoughts and his feelings, dwelling heavily over them for quite some time. Eventually, gradually, he’d discovered that the attraction he held towards you was more than just a fleeting admiration for a fellow Scout.

It was so much more than that.

Such a simple notion should have come much easier to him, as self-observant as he was. His own stubborn pride had kept it hidden away from him, though.

Until now, that is.

Now, it was all he could focus on.

Every moment he wasn’t fully focused on a task, his mind would slip back into a pattern of obsession—fond observations he’d made about you over the many long months he’d been enlisted.

He’d watched you, unbeknownst to you.

Not so much in a way that would border on stalking, but merely keeping himself at a distance, silently absorbing every little fact he’d pick up on and store it away for a later time to muse over.

He found himself admiring you, out of sight. Certainly out of mind to you. Even after the revelation he’d made of his feelings, he couldn’t help but continue to keep his distance and simply watch you go about your days.

Stubborn as he had been, he truly was trying to understand himself whenever you were around. It wasn’t like him to be so unsure—so nervous, even. He’d watch you train, clean, socialize; all at a distance. He wouldn’t dare approach you and intervene with your time, worried he might somehow soil the moment for you, more so than for himself. He’d always frowned on obsessive stalkers in the past; he wasn’t about to become one himself. And yet…Here he was. Pining. Wishing, hoping…Pathetically entranced by all that you were.

In the present, he cursed himself. He’d mustered up the courage to face you in a way much softer than he usually preferred, hoping to not startle or offend you in any way this time. And yet, despite his careful planning, he’d managed to make the moment more awkward than endearing. Once again, the silly cycle repeated itself.

“The hell even was that?” he grumbled to himself, quietly so as not to be heard by passerbyers.

“Why the hell didn’t I just say what I initially thought, instead of butchering any chance I could have had?”

Levi sat alone in his newly appointed office now, silently contemplating his actions the day before.

He really had meant it as a compliment—it had not come across this way. Instead of seeing the smile on your face that he was after, he was met with a furrowed brow and a set of pursed lips.

“I don’t suppose you find yourself funny?”

Your quietly spoken words still echoed in his mind.

What had started as a feeble attempt at pursuing a conversation with you after a meeting—in hopes to steer it in a more progressive direction—ended abruptly in narrowed gazes and an awkward silence.

“Idiot, fucking idiot…” he muttered as an afterthought to himself, standing up to pace the small space.

He’d heard tell of an event celebrated amongst the people born and raised above ground—some sort of ‘lovers day’, meant to bring attention to a love one held for another. Initially, he thought it was corny. A little ridiculous, even. Soldiers and civilians alike would participate in this festival of sorts, celebrating ‘romance and unity’.

‘Pointless. Waste of a good coin. Waste of time.’ He’d once proclaimed.

It took him falling in love to understand why any such thing would be celebrated as a ‘holiday’ worth entertaining.

Now that he had fallen for another, however, he suddenly could understand. Even just a little.

He’d pondered over such an idea for months, long before the event would take place. At first he brushed it off as some teenage fantasy, asking the one person he admired from a distance to join him on a night of fresh starts and new experiences—some ridiculous little event to finally express his heart to you.

But after some time, in which he truly began to understand what he felt for you…The idea seemed plausible, at the very least.

Cringy, maybe. Satisfactory, definitely.

Eventually he’d made up his mind, only a couple of days before the dreaded date. He would ask you to celebrate: with him.

He’d hoped to ask you if you would join him for dinner—maybe walk amongst the festivities together, as a way to indulge in the festival being held in the town square. Maybe there he could admit to you, in some way or another, how he favored you above all others. How he wanted to pursue something, anything with you—if you’d let him. Only if you shared his ambition.

But of course, approaching this subject with you only made his clumsiness worse. The attempt he’d made at broaching the subject couldn’t have been more uncomfortable for either of you.

“You people up here tend to celebrate weird shit…You’re alone for this weird ass holiday, right? I don’t imagine you’d have the time for such things, anyways—always caught up in perfecting your shitty strategies and formations.”

That had been the first and last statement he’d made before your remark, regarding him in an almost offended way. Even now, your response still haunts him.

In his mind, he figured this was a compliment; a rough one at best. You were always focused, always concentrated and putting your best foot forward for any task that demanded your full attention. Of course he’d noticed. He always had. Yet…now hadn’t been the time to point that out—much less, in such a demeaning manner.

He hadn’t meant to underline your lack of a romantic life. But he had, and the moment the words left his lips he knew it.

Less than a full day had passed since then, and still he mulled over it, sulking over his inability to take that step forward and just say what he meant. To say what he needed you to hear.

It was evening when he left his office, the sun filtering through his window setting over the walls beyond in crisp oranges and bright pinks. He might have stopped to watch it for a moment, if he weren’t at wit’s end.

He’d kept himself cooped up stewing over his mistakes long enough—It was now or never, wasn’t it?

Finding you hadn't been too difficult. In fact, it had been a little too easy; of course he’d find you chatting happily amongst comrades before turning in for the night.

The difficult part, the one he knew he would inevitably face, was getting you alone for a single moment. Just long enough to grab your attention and say what needed to be said…

To his silent astonishment, he’d managed the task easily enough; a simple demand for a moment of time seemed to do the trick. He’d pretend he didn’t see the hesitance in your eyes, the silent judgment that you never verbally conveyed.

“Listen; I’m shit at words. Especially the weird shit you all say up here on the surface. It’s strange, and it’s stupid. But…The other day, what I’d meant wasn’t what I said. If-If you are alone tomorrow…Well, I suppose I am as well. I’d wondered: what if we grabbed a bite to eat? Avoid the drama these love sick idiots parade around and just…I dunno…Get to know one another a little?”

You’d huffed in amusement, a crooked smirk on your enchanting lips. The earlier hesitance disappeared from your gaze, replaced now by a nearly mischievous look of understanding.

The silence left behind from his proposal was enough to spike his nervousness once again—he was so far out of his element that even he would laugh at himself if he were observing from afar.

Maybe he’s misjudged, made a mistake…

But eventually you shook your head, uncrossing your arms and looking him over head to toe, curiosity beaming in your pretty eyes.

“As it should happen, I’m not busy for Valentine’s tomorrow, and I suppose I could stand to better familiarize myself with my fellow Captains…”

A pause in your voice brought about the stilling of his heart, his chest aching briefly with anticipation. But then you gave your final answer; a few simple words that lifted the anxious weight in his heart and eased the tension in his shoulders. He nearly sighed with visible relief.

“Why not? I’ll go to dinner with you. There’s a new café in Trost; I hope you’ve heard of it?”

~𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝓋𝒾 𝒜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑒!~

~𝒟𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇~

[candyswirls]

They Still Know Fear

Warnings: blood, nausea, description of panic attack, grimdark violence, intrusion/attack of the mind

He gasped awake, inhaling thick fumes and smoke. He coughed and sputtered as he felt like he was spinning. The taste of iron filled his mouth and his parched through stung at the suddenness of moisture.

Nausea wafted over as he managed to roll onto his side.

He dry heaved until stomach acid managed to come up. His whole body trembled and massive amounts of pain pulsed up one side. The right side of his neck and head throbbed. It was stiff there. He couldn't see out of his left eye.

He struggled to stand. Everything was so heavy. What was holding him back? Blue. He was covered in blue. Armor. It was powered down.

He tried to reach up with great difficulty, his right side screaming in pain.

He managed to removed his smashed helmet. Some shrapnel stuck into his face but he found he could see out of both eyes.

He looked around. Smog hid everything as much as it burned his airways and made his eyes water.

He spotted somewhat of a trail of shrapnel. Pieces from his armor. It resisted moving still. He couldn't look behind him, his right side refusing to move more than necessary.

He shuffled forward, following the trail. He was in some type of gorge. How did he get here? What happened?

The last thing he could remember...

A fuzzy vision of a short blood angel came to his mind.

"Do. Not. Remove. Your. Helmet."

He blinked and looked at his smashed one. Part of the right side was completely gone. Only covering part of his mouth and left eye. It didn't matter anymore.

He pushed his mind more. Where was he? Why was he here? What happened? Where were his brothers.

A feeling creeped up his legs. The muscles were tense and sensitive. The feeling gripped his abdomen like claws. It crawled to his hearts and made them pump harder and his lungs pick up his breathing. It was cold and heavy. Ominous as it tightened around his throat and delved into his mind.

Thoughts began racing. Dangerous possibilities of what could happen while here. Worry and weariness swirled into it, dipping down through his and rested in his stomach and toes. To top it all off, immense hopelessness settle upon his shoulders and chest.

The icy and ill feeling turned into claws as well. Swiping at his innards with electricity and settling deep in his hearts.

He was losing control of his mind and body. He racked his brain, searching for the familiarity of these feelings deep within the recesses of his memories. Going further than recent events, before he was a Sergeant or a scout. Before being an astartes.

The last time he'd felt it was right before... a surgery. It became more common the younger he was until there was a memory so sparse he wondered if it even was one. He was small. So small. The world was strange and... terrible. He sough solace from a woman who was everything to him. His mother. She comforted her scared child. Soothing the fear.

Fear. He was feeling fear.

As soon as he identified it, it took control. His lungs ceased working and he couldn't feel his pulse.

He collapsed to the ground, something very wrong. He hated the feeling. It took over his psyche. He could only see the most horrible of outcomes. Ones that illicited even more of the feeling.

He could feel eternities passing between each second.

It grew and grew until he realized something small formed from within the smog.

A kind face and charming smile. Dressed finely and well put together. The guard around them were dressed fancily well. Then he met their eyes and he screamed. As loud as he could as this cruel, evil, and hatred being dove into his mind, ravaging it. He needed to get away. But they weren't actually there. They were in his mind.

Every wall broken down. Every secret dug out. His entire self flayed and lit on display. Things not even he realized about himself either. Each solid pillar of his sense of self was smashed. Every principal and fact of being an astartes destroyed. He could feel the conditioning and hypnotherapy he went through torn to shreds. It was replaced with knowledge of this person. Her disdain for the emperor and imperium. The desire to hurt him and the Sigilite. The utter loathing she had for astartes. The most vile and black of feelings towards them. Her drive to make them suffer and filled with the utmost fear. Have their entire existence be pain. And pain she gave.

He shrieked as he finally recalled what happened.

***

Iron Hands came across this hidden planet. Covered in a toxic swirling storm. Anyone who went down lost vox signal and never returned. A death planet.

The storm opened for a second and they went down. They found an emaciated blood angel claiming to be a first born from the heresy days and a warning to get off the planet.

This planet was a trap.

He went down with his team to investigate afterwards. As they were leaving there was a psykic attack unlike any other. He barely saw the object flying towards him. It was massive but he coudont see it. He didn't know what it was. It hit him, sending him plummeting from the Thunderhawk. He fell into the dark.

The last thing he could recall was his name being screamed through the vox.

"GADRIEL!!"

Master Post

[amethystarachnid]

PLEASE PLEASE pt 3 of “New Years Eve” that promise ring turning into a engagement ring one day 😍 that whole thing about marriage was so cute 😍 and I bet their parents would love some grandbabies 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

NEW YEAR EVE - part III

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Timeline: they just finished college

ᯓ★ Word count: 7k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said + a little surprise at the end

ᯓ★ TW(s): some spicy scenes but nothing explicit

ᯓ★ Part I | Part II

ᯓ★ Tony taglist: @groovy-lady

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 years after college blur together in a whirlwind of late nights, ambitious projects, and the exhilarating rush of success. Both of you have poured yourselves into your respective careers, with Tony inevitably making waves in the tech world and you earning accolades for your groundbreaking work in sustainable technology. It’s not just that you’re making money—you’re thriving.

The first time Tony mentions moving into a better apartment, you brush it off. “This place isn’t so bad,” you tell him, running your fingers along the slightly warped kitchen counter that has seen better days. “It’s home.”

But Tony, being Tony, raises an eyebrow and grins. “Home is wherever you are, babe. But let’s be real—this place is one squeaky pipe away from falling apart. We can do better.”

He’s right, of course. You’ve both outgrown the cramped space, and within a week, he’s already scouted a stunning loft downtown. It’s the kind of apartment you used to joke about owning someday, with floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek modern finishes, and a view of the city that takes your breath away every time you look out.

Moving day is chaotic but fun. Tony insists on carrying the heaviest boxes himself, only to dramatically collapse onto the couch the moment you’re done unpacking. “I think I pulled something,” he groans, draping an arm over his forehead like a damsel in distress.

You laugh, nudging his leg with your foot. “That’s what you get for refusing to hire movers.”

“Movers wouldn’t have handled your plants with the same care,” he retorts, gesturing toward the cluster of greenery you’ve already set up in one corner.

“They’re fake plants, Tony.”

“They still deserve respect.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. The apartment already feels like yours, like it’s filled with the little quirks and comforts that make up your life together.

The first night in the new place is magical. You order takeout and eat it on the floor, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes. Tony lights candles he insists are for ambiance, though he nearly sets one of your sleeves on fire while adjusting them.

Later, as the city lights twinkle outside, you’re lying on the massive new bed, wrapped up in each other. Tony’s fingers trail lazily over your bare shoulder as he murmurs, “You know, this is just the beginning. You and me, we’re gonna build something incredible.”

“You mean more plants?” you tease, but your voice is soft, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his tone.

“I’m serious,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “Everything we’ve done so far—college, work, this place—it’s just the start. I want… everything with you. A house someday, a family, all of it.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his eyes, and you nod, unable to find the right words. Instead, you pull him down for a kiss, one that deepens quickly, becoming a slow, burning exchange that leaves you both breathless.

The days in the new apartment settle into a comfortable rhythm. You cook together when you’re not working late, Tony’s attempts at chopping vegetables often ending with him grinning sheepishly as you take over. You spend lazy Sunday mornings tangled in bed, the sunlight streaming in through the windows as Tony refuses to let you get up.

One day, while you’re perched on a ladder trying to hang curtains, Tony comes up behind you, his hands steadying your waist. “Careful, future wife,” he says casually, and the words make you laugh despite the way your heart flips at how easily he throws them out.

“You can’t just call me that whenever you want, you know,” you tease, glancing down at him.

“Why not? It’s gonna be true eventually,” he replies with a smirk.

It becomes a running joke—or at least, you think it’s a joke. Every time he calls you “future wife” or “fiancée,” you roll your eyes, but the warmth in his voice always makes your stomach flutter.

One evening, after a long day at work, Tony insists on taking you out to dinner. He doesn’t say much about where you’re going, only that it’s “a surprise.” You’re too tired to argue, so you let him whisk you away in his sleek new car, the city lights blurring past the windows.

When you arrive, the restaurant is breathtaking. It’s perched on a rooftop, with a view of the skyline that rivals even your apartment’s. The table Tony reserved is tucked into a private corner, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights and soft candlelight.

“Wow,” you breathe as you take it all in.

“Only the best for you,” Tony says, grinning as he pulls out your chair.

The evening is perfect—great food, soft music, and Tony at his most charming. He’s in an unusually reflective mood, reminiscing about your college days and all the milestones you’ve hit since then.

As dessert arrives, your favorite kind of cake, Tony clears his throat. His usual bravado falters slightly, and you can tell he’s nervous.

“Okay, so,” he begins, reaching into his pocket. Your heart starts to race because you can already guess what’s coming.

“Tony…”

“Wait, let me do this right,” he says, cutting you off with a crooked smile. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I wanted to wait until the timing was perfect, but honestly, every day with you feels perfect, so why wait anymore?”

He pulls out a small velvet box and opens it to reveal a stunning diamond ring, its delicate design exactly the kind of understated elegance you’d imagined.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “You’re my everything. My partner, my best friend, my future. Will you marry me?”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod, too overwhelmed to speak at first. “Yes,” you finally manage, your voice breaking. “Of course, yes.”

Tony slips the ring onto your finger, then stands to pull you into a tight embrace. The restaurant staff applauds, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart and the soft murmurs of love from Tony as he holds you close.

That night, back at the apartment, you can’t keep your hands off each other. The passion between you is electric, charged with the promise of forever. Tony’s kisses are fervent, his touch reverent, and the way he whispers “fiancée” against your skin sends shivers down your spine.

As you lie together afterward, your head resting on his chest, you glance down at the ring on your finger. It glints softly in the low light, a tangible symbol of the love and commitment you share.

Tony presses a kiss to your temple, his voice soft as he murmurs, “So… when do you want to start planning this wedding?”

You laugh, snuggling closer. “Let’s enjoy being engaged for a little while first.”

“Deal,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

And as you drift off to sleep, you know that whatever the future holds, you’ll face it together, hand in hand.

Organizing a dinner for both sets of parents feels like a bigger event than either of you expected. Tony insists on handling the arrangements, booking a private dining room at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. “It’s not every day we drop life-changing news on them,” he says with a grin, leaning against the counter as you look over the guest list.

The dinner is scheduled for a Saturday evening, giving you just enough time to overthink every possible outcome. You’re nervous—not because you think the news will go badly, but because there’s something so monumental about the idea of your families sitting together, your lives becoming that much more intertwined.

When the night arrives, the private dining room is elegant but welcoming, the table set with crisp linens and softly glowing candles. Tony is uncharacteristically fidgety, straightening his tie every few minutes and checking his watch.

“Relax,” you say, taking his hand. “They’re going to love this.”

“I know,” he replies, flashing you a crooked smile. “But I also know my dad. He’s going to make a scene about something, and I want to be ready for it.”

You squeeze his hand, grounding him. “We’ll handle it. Together.”

The first to arrive are your mom and younger brother. Your mom beams as soon as she sees you, pulling you into a tight hug while your brother mutters a teasing comment about how fancy everything looks.

Tony’s parents arrive shortly after, Howard looking as stately as ever while Maria radiates warmth. They greet your family politely, Maria exchanging pleasantries with your mom as if they’ve known each other for years.

As everyone takes their seats, the conversation flows surprisingly smoothly. Your mom and Maria bond over shared stories of raising their children, while Howard listens intently to your brother talk about his plans for college. Tony, ever the charmer, keeps things light and entertaining, ensuring there’s never a dull moment.

Once the main courses are cleared, Tony catches your eye and nods subtly. You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you prepare to share the news.

“So,” Tony begins, leaning forward slightly, “we have something we want to tell you all.”

Maria’s eyes light up, and she immediately clasps her hands together. “Oh my goodness, are you… are you having a baby?”

The question catches you so off guard that you almost choke on your water. “What? No!”

Your mom gasps, her expression flipping from surprise to amusement as she laughs. “Maria, let them finish!”

Tony, meanwhile, looks like he’s having the time of his life. “Not yet,” he says with a playful smirk, “but I’ll let you know when we get there. No, the news is…” He takes your hand in his, lifting it slightly so everyone can see the ring on your finger. “We’re engaged.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then the room erupts into cheers and congratulations. Maria is on her feet in seconds, hugging you tightly while your mom dabs at her eyes with a napkin. Howard stands and shakes Tony’s hand, the closest thing to emotional you’ve ever seen him, while your brother teases Tony about finally making an honest woman out of you.

“You kept this a secret?” Maria asks, pulling back to look at you with mock outrage. “How could you not tell me immediately?”

“It only just happened,” you explain, laughing. “We wanted to share it with you all together.”

Howard claps Tony on the shoulder, his voice gruff but approving. “You’ve done well, son. You’ve made your choice, and it’s a good one.”

Tony’s grin is soft, his gaze flickering toward you. “Yeah, I think so too.”

The conversation turns lively as everyone begins asking questions about the wedding. When will it be? Where will it be? How big is the guest list?

“We’re still figuring all that out,” you say, glancing at Tony for confirmation. “We wanted to enjoy being engaged for a little while first.”

Maria nods, her smile warm. “That’s wise. There’s no need to rush. But if you need help with anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Weddings are such beautiful celebrations, and I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

Howard, however, clears his throat, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Now that you’re taking this step, Tony, it’s time we talk about the family business.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly curious but cautious. “What about it?”

“It’s time for you to have access,” Howard says simply. “You’ve proven yourself—your success in college, the work you’ve done since then, the way you’ve taken responsibility for your life. I think you’re ready to start taking on more.”

Tony looks stunned for a moment, the weight of his father’s words sinking in. You can see the mix of pride and determination in his expression as he nods. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Howard replies.

Maria, ever the peacemaker, redirects the conversation with a bright smile. “And while we’re on the subject of family… I hope you know we’ll be expecting grand-babies someday. No pressure, of course.”

Your mom laughs, joining in the teasing. “Oh, absolutely. I’d love to spoil some grandchildren. But, like Maria said—no pressure.”

Tony grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Well, don’t hold your breath. We’ve got a wedding to plan first.”

The rest of the evening is filled with laughter and stories, the kind of warmth that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. As the night winds down, Maria pulls you aside, her eyes soft as she says, “I’m so happy for you both. You’re perfect for each other.”

“Thank you,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion. “That means so much to me.”

By the time you and Tony get home, you’re both buzzing from the success of the night. Tony kicks off his shoes and pulls you into a slow, lingering kiss, his hands warm against your back.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours.

“So are you,” you reply, threading your fingers through his hair.

The night ends in a tangle of sheets and whispered promises, the kind of passion that reminds you why you said yes in the first place. As you fall asleep in his arms, the future feels brighter than ever, full of love, laughter, and the shared dreams you’re building together.

Planning the wedding starts almost immediately after the engagement dinner. Maria, ever the enthusiast, insists on helping, and while Tony initially tries to claim he doesn’t care about the details, he quickly gets invested in anything that allows him to be over the top.

“Let’s rent out a castle,” he suggests one evening, sprawled out on the couch with you as you scroll through wedding venues.

You snort. “A castle? In New York? Sure, Tony, let me just call up my royal connections.”

He smirks. “Hey, I’m just saying, Stark and future Stark deserve a wedding that screams power couple.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “How about something a little less medieval? Something classy, but not ‘Tony Stark just bought an island’ level of extravagant?”

After weeks of searching, you finally settle on a stunning estate just outside the city. It has everything—a grand ballroom, a breathtaking garden for the ceremony, and enough space to accommodate both your families and the absurd number of people Tony insists on inviting.

Next comes the dress shopping, and it’s the one thing Tony is explicitly banned from seeing.

“You know,” he teases as you head out with Maria and your mom for the fitting, “I could totally hack into the bridal shop’s database and—”

“Don’t you dare,” you warn, pointing a finger at him. “This is the one tradition we’re sticking to.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if I die from the suspense, just know it’s on you.”

Shopping for the dress is an emotional experience. Your mom wipes away tears every time you step out in a new gown, and Maria makes sure you’re getting nothing but the best. After trying on at least a dozen dresses, you finally find the one. It’s perfect—elegant, timeless, and when you see yourself in the mirror, you can actually picture yourself walking down the aisle to Tony.

Meanwhile, Tony takes it upon himself to handle the cake tasting. “You don’t even like cake,” you remind him when he schedules five different bakery appointments.

“I like this cake,” he argues, stuffing a bite of red velvet into his mouth. “Besides, I’m doing my duty as a supportive fiancé. Can’t let my future wife eat subpar cake on our big day.”

The cake is ultimately decided—a mix of flavors to satisfy both of you, with a stunning design that Tony jokingly suggests should have “Stark Industries” written in gold across the front.

Between booking florists, hiring musicians, and designing invitations, the months fly by. Everything is falling into place, and with only five months left until the wedding, you feel like you’re finally getting everything under control.

Then you miss your period.

At first, you brush it off. Stress, excitement—there are a million reasons your cycle might be off. But as the days pass, the nagging thought in the back of your mind won’t go away. It takes you another week to finally go out and buy a test, and when the little plus sign appears, you almost drop it in shock.

You’re pregnant.

You sit on the bathroom floor for a long time, trying to process the news. It’s not bad news—not at all. But it changes things. And Tony. You have no idea how Tony is going to react.

That’s when a devilish idea strikes. You decide to make it as dramatic as possible.

That evening, you sit Tony down on the couch, taking his hands in yours with a somber expression.

“We need to talk,” you say, keeping your voice serious.

Tony immediately straightens, his playful smirk fading. “Uh-oh. What did I do?”

You bite your lip, forcing yourself to keep a straight face. “I think… I think we need to cancel the wedding.”

His entire body tenses. “What?”

“Or at least push it back,” you continue, watching the panic set in. “I just don’t think I can do it, Tony.”

His eyes widen in sheer horror. “What?! What did I do? I—Was it the thing with the catering? Because I swear, I didn’t actually mean to offend the guy, I was just saying that sushi is a risky—”

“Tony.” You grip his hands tighter, trying so hard not to laugh at how distraught he looks. “It’s not that.”

“Then what? Do you—do you not want to get married?” His voice is suddenly quieter, more vulnerable, and your heart clenches.

You let out a dramatic sigh before finally giving him the truth. “I just… I don’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a balloon.”

There’s a beat of silence. Tony blinks. His eyebrows furrow. Then realization dawns.

He glances at your stomach, then back at you. “Wait. Wait. Are you—are you saying—?”

You nod, biting your lip. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he’s completely still. Then his eyes widen, and he lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. “You’re pregnant?!”

You barely have time to react before he’s pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder. You feel his chest rise and fall in a shaky breath, and when he pulls back, his eyes are glossy with unshed tears.

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice cracking.

You nod again, and he lets out a breathless laugh, cupping your face in his hands. “We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” you confirm, grinning.

That’s when the tears actually spill over. Tony Stark—genius, billionaire, self-proclaimed coolest guy ever—is crying. Happy, overwhelmed tears.

He presses kisses all over your face, whispering, “I love you. I love you so much. We’re having a baby. Oh my God.”

Then, suddenly, he freezes. “Wait. You let me think you were canceling the wedding?”

You burst into laughter. “I had to make it dramatic!”

He groans, burying his face in your neck again. “You’re the worst. The worst.”

But you can feel the way he’s smiling against your skin. His hands find their way to your stomach, resting there gently, reverently. “I can’t believe this,” he murmurs. “I get to marry you, and we’re going to have a kid.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “I love you.”

He lifts his head, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you too. And for the record, I don’t care when we get married. Pregnant, not pregnant—you’d be the most beautiful bride either way.”

Your heart melts. “Smooth, Stark.”

“Always.”

That night, he’s extra affectionate—his hands never leave your stomach, even as things grow more heated between you. It’s different this time—more intense, more meaningful. Every kiss, every touch is filled with love and excitement for the future.

And as you fall asleep in his arms, one thought lingers in your mind:

This is just the beginning.

Telling Tony had been fun. Telling your parents? That was going to be legendary.

Tony had insisted that if you were going to be dramatic with him, then you both had to be dramatic with your families. It was only fair. And honestly? You were completely on board.

So, a week later, you and Tony invite both sets of parents to dinner at your place. Maria and Howard arrive first, looking elegant as always, while your mom and brother walk in a little more casual but just as curious. Everyone settles around the dining table, making polite conversation, but you and Tony exchange glances.

It’s time.

Tony clears his throat, tapping his fork against his glass as if he’s making a wedding toast. “We’ve gathered you all here today for a very important announcement.”

Maria straightens in her chair, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Oh? Is this about the wedding?”

“Actually…” You take a deep breath, biting back a smile. “It’s about the wedding date.”

Your mom frowns. “What about it?”

You sigh dramatically. “We’re thinking of postponing it.”

There’s a beat of silence before chaos erupts.

“What?!” Maria exclaims, sitting up straighter.

Howard raises an eyebrow but remains quiet, waiting for an explanation.

Your mom immediately turns to Tony. “What did you do?”

Your brother, completely missing the tension in the room, shoves another piece of bread into his mouth. “Did she finally realize she’s too good for you?”

“Hey!” Tony glares at him before turning back to the group. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Then why postpone it?” Maria presses, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

You exchange another glance with Tony, your lips twitching. “It’s just… I don’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a balloon.”

More silence. Then—

Maria gasps.

Howard chokes on his drink.

Your mom’s eyes widen.

Your brother? Still eating.

Maria is the first to recover. “Are you—” Her voice catches. “Are you saying—?”

Tony grins, wrapping an arm around you. “We’re having a baby.”

The room erupts again, but this time with joy. Maria lets out a small, delighted shriek, covering her mouth as her eyes well up. Your mom jumps out of her seat to hug you, already crying. Howard claps Tony on the back, murmuring something about how he’d better be ready to be a dad.

Your brother finally stops eating long enough to blink at you. “Wait. You’re pregnant?”

Tony smirks. “Way to keep up, buddy.”

Your brother shrugs. “Cool. Can I name it?”

Your mom glares at him. “Absolutely not.”

Maria, meanwhile, is already in full planning mode. “We need to start thinking about a nursery! And have you been to the doctor yet? When’s your first ultrasound?”

Your mom nods eagerly. “And have you thought about names? Do you know the gender yet?”

You laugh, overwhelmed but incredibly happy. “It’s still really early. We just found out last week.”

Howard, despite his usual reserved nature, is smiling. “Well, I suppose this means I’ll finally get to be a grandfather. Stark Enterprises will have an heir.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Relax, Dad. We’re not raising the next CEO in the womb.”

Howard smirks. “We’ll see.”

Maria wipes away a tear before reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “This is wonderful news, sweetheart. You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

Your mom nods. “And Tony—” she gives him a look “—you’d better take good care of her.”

Tony places a hand over his heart. “Always.”

Your brother, not one to be left out, finally grins. “So, when do I start teaching the kid how to throw a football?”

Tony scoffs. “Oh, please. If anything, I’ll be the one teaching them engineering before they can even walk.”

Your mom groans. “God help this child.”

The rest of the night is spent talking about the baby, the wedding, and how this little life growing inside of you is already so loved.

And as Tony squeezes your hand under the table, you know that no matter what happens next, you’ll be doing it together.

Tony insists on driving even though the doctor's office isn’t far. His fingers drum anxiously against the steering wheel at every red light, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds as if you might suddenly need something. You try not to laugh, because honestly, it's sweet seeing him like this, but you also don’t want to encourage his nerves.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the leather if you keep doing that,” you say, nodding toward his tapping fingers.

Tony stops immediately, flexes his hands, then grips the wheel tighter. “I’m fine.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I just… I mean, yeah. I’m good.” He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Totally cool.”

He’s totally not cool.

By the time you get to the clinic, Tony’s opened your car door before you’ve even unbuckled your seatbelt. He hovers close as you step out, his hand automatically going to your lower back. The waiting room is quiet, the receptionist offering a warm smile as she checks you in.

Tony, however, looks ready to interrogate the entire staff.

“They know what they’re doing here, right?” he murmurs as you both take a seat.

You give him a look. “Tony. We have the best doctor in the city.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, exhaling sharply. “But still.”

You take his hand, squeezing it. He squeezes back, his knee bouncing slightly.

When your name is called, Tony stands faster than you do, helping you up like you suddenly can’t walk on your own. The nurse leads you into the exam room, and as you sit on the table, Tony remains standing, arms crossed, eyes scanning every medical instrument like he’s memorizing them for later questioning.

The doctor enters with a warm smile, introducing herself even though you both already know who she is. She’s friendly, experienced, and exactly the kind of person you’d hoped for.

“So,” she says, glancing between you and Tony. “First pregnancy?”

Tony nods before you can even answer. “Yeah. And we want to make sure everything’s perfect. No mistakes.”

The doctor chuckles. “Well, we’ll do our best to make sure everything goes smoothly. Let’s start with some basics.”

She asks a few routine questions, goes over dietary recommendations, and gives you a list of vitamins. Tony takes mental notes like he’s going to be quizzed on them later. Then comes the part that makes your heart race a little—the first ultrasound.

The doctor sets everything up, explaining what she’s doing, and as the screen flickers to life, you grip Tony’s hand tightly. He’s holding his breath, eyes locked on the monitor.

“There’s the little one,” the doctor says, pointing.

Tony freezes. “Wait. That’s it?”

You blink at the tiny dot on the screen. It doesn’t look like much yet, but your heart swells at the sight.

The doctor nods. “That’s your baby.”

Tony doesn’t speak for a moment, just stares at the screen, his jaw slack. Then he exhales a breathless laugh. “Holy shit.”

You squeeze his hand. “Pretty amazing, huh?”

Tony swallows hard, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

The doctor prints out a few images for you, goes over some final instructions, and schedules your next appointment. As you leave, Tony holds onto the ultrasound pictures like they’re the most valuable thing he’s ever owned.

The ride home is quieter, but not in a bad way. Tony keeps sneaking glances at the pictures in his hand, his expression unreadable.

When you finally step inside your apartment, Tony immediately goes into full protective mode.

“Okay,” he says, setting the pictures carefully on the counter. “New rules. You don’t lift anything heavy. No more stress. We’re eating all the right foods. And I’m handling everything, so you just have to sit back and relax.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tony—”

“I’m serious.” He steps closer, hands on your shoulders. “You need anything, anything, you tell me. I don’t care if it’s two in the morning and you suddenly want ice cream from across the city. I’m getting it.”

You smile, leaning into him. “You’re already the best dad ever.”

Tony smirks. “Damn right I am.”

That night, as you get into bed, Tony’s arms automatically wrap around you, holding you close. But then, to your surprise, he shifts, propping himself up slightly.

Then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your stomach.

“Hey, kid,” he murmurs. “It’s me. Your ridiculously cool dad.”

You bite your lip, watching him with warmth in your chest.

“I know you’re not really doing much yet,” Tony continues, his fingers brushing your skin. “But I just want you to know we’re already so freaking excited about you. And I promise I’m gonna be the best dad ever. Just, you know, give me a heads-up before you decide to make your grand entrance, alright?”

You laugh softly, running your fingers through his hair. “Talking to them already?”

Tony grins up at you. “Of course. Gotta make sure they know how awesome their life is gonna be.”

You cup his cheek, bringing him up to kiss you. “I love you, you know that?”

Tony smiles against your lips. “Yeah. And I love you too. Both of you.”

As he settles back down, arms still wrapped protectively around you, you know that no matter what comes next, you’re going to be okay. Because you have Tony. And he’s already proving to be the best partner and father you could ever ask for.

Tony has been obsessed with your belly ever since it started showing. It’s a slow change at first, a slight curve that he constantly traces his fingers over at night, but by the time you hit five months, there’s no hiding it anymore. You’re officially pregnant pregnant, and Tony takes it upon himself to remind you every chance he gets.

"Look at you," he says one morning, standing behind you as you stare at yourself in the mirror. His hands rest on your stomach, fingers splayed out like he can already feel the baby moving beneath them. "Absolutely stunning. My two favorite girls in one place."

You roll your eyes, but you can't fight the smile that tugs at your lips. "You don't even know if it's a girl yet."

Tony smirks. "I have a feeling."

The gender reveal party is his idea, of course. He wants something big, something dramatic, and naturally, he insists on making it a surprise for both of you. The only person who knows the gender is your younger brother, who’s taken his role as the secret keeper way too seriously.

The party itself is extravagant, but that’s to be expected. Tony doesn’t do anything halfway. Your families gather at a beautiful outdoor venue, decorated in both pink and blue, with tables full of food and an entire section dedicated to baby-themed desserts. There's even a betting board where guests can guess the gender, and Tony, confident as ever, has already placed his bet on a girl.

"You're going to lose," you tease as you watch him add another tally mark to the girl column.

Tony wraps an arm around your waist, resting his free hand on your belly. "No way. I know my daughter is in there."

"You mean our child."

"Our baby girl," he corrects, winking.

When it's finally time for the reveal, everyone gathers around, buzzing with excitement. Your brother stands off to the side, grinning mischievously as he sets everything up. The reveal method? A giant balloon filled with colored powder, because of course, Tony wanted something flashy.

"Alright, lovebirds," your brother calls. "Time to pop this thing and see if I'm getting a niece or a nephew."

Tony takes the pin in his hand and turns to you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ready, future Mrs. Stark?"

You shake your head at the unnecessary dramatics but nod, placing your hand over his. Together, you pop the balloon, and in an instant, a cloud of pink explodes into the air.

The crowd erupts into cheers, but all you hear is Tony's loud, triumphant "I KNEW IT!" as he lifts you into the air, spinning you around.

"A girl," you whisper, eyes wide with happiness. "We're having a little girl."

Tony sets you down, cupping your face in his hands. "I told you. I'm always right."

You laugh, smacking his chest lightly. "She's not even here yet, and you're already smug."

"Damn right." He kisses you, long and deep, before pulling away with a dazed smile. "I'm gonna spoil the hell out of this kid."

The rest of the party is a whirlwind of hugs, congratulations, and Tony gloating to anyone who will listen about how he knew it was a girl. Your families are ecstatic, Maria already talking about all the beautiful dresses she'll buy and Howard muttering about how another Stark genius is on the way. Your mom is in tears, overjoyed at the thought of having a granddaughter, and your brother looks relieved that his secret-keeping days are finally over.

A few days after the party, Tony springs another surprise on you—he's booked a pregnancy photoshoot.

"You're glowing," he insists when you try to protest. "We need to capture this moment."

So, despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself standing in a gorgeous studio, dressed in a flowing white gown that highlights your bump. The photographer is incredible, making you feel comfortable as she directs your poses, and after a few shots, you start to enjoy yourself.

Tony, of course, sits to the side, watching you with a look of pure awe.

"You look unreal," he murmurs when there's a break between shots.

You raise an eyebrow. "You say that like I’m an illusion."

He stands, walking over to you, his hands finding your belly. "You kind of are. You're carrying our baby. Do you know how insane that is?"

You smile softly, covering his hands with yours. "I think about it every day."

The photographer clears her throat. "Would you like to join in, Tony?"

Tony smirks. "Thought you'd never ask."

He changes into a button-down and slacks in record time, and before you know it, he's standing behind you, his hands resting on your belly as he presses a kiss to your temple. The photographer captures it perfectly.

"Alright," she says, directing you both into another pose. "Tony, can you kneel in front of her?"

Tony immediately drops to one knee, kissing your belly before resting his forehead against it. "Hey, baby girl," he whispers. "You're already the best thing to ever happen to me."

You blink back tears as the camera clicks, and at that moment, you know these photos will be some of your most cherished memories.

When the session is over, Tony doesn’t let go of you immediately. He keeps his hands on your belly, rubbing gentle circles. "You’re breathtaking," he murmurs.

You chuckle, resting your forehead against his. "I’m huge."

"You're perfect," he corrects. "And I’m madly in love with you."

You kiss him, slow and deep, your heart full.

Tony smirks against your lips. "So, what do you say we head home and continue celebrating our baby girl?"

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the way warmth spreads through your body at the suggestion. "You never stop, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you," he murmurs, his hands tightening around your waist.

And as he pulls you in for another kiss, you realize that no matter how much things change, one thing will always stay the same—Tony Stark is completely and utterly in love with you.

ony is pacing.

He never paces.

But right now, as you grip his hand with enough strength to cut off circulation, as doctors and nurses move around you in a blur, as the reality of what’s happening fully settles in—he can’t help himself.

You’re in labor. His baby is about to arrive.

And despite all the months of preparation, of books he skimmed through, of doctor’s appointments he never missed, of baby-proofing the penthouse like a madman—he is terrified.

"You're doing great, sweetheart," he says, though his voice is slightly panicked. His other hand wipes sweat from your forehead, his thumb brushing over your temple. "So great. The best. Ten out of ten. Would recommend."

You shoot him a look between contractions, your face contorted in pain. "Tony—if you don’t shut up—"

"Right, yeah. Shutting up."

He doesn’t, though. He keeps whispering encouragements, keeps pressing kisses to your knuckles, keeps trying not to freak out because you are pushing his daughter into the world, and holy hell, he has never loved you more than in this moment.

And then it happens.

A tiny, sharp cry pierces through the room, cutting through the chaos, silencing everything else.

Tony stops breathing.

The doctors move quickly, cleaning her up, wrapping her in a soft pink blanket. The moment they place her in your arms, everything in the world shifts.

She is perfect.

"Layla," you whisper, your voice full of awe.

Tony sits beside you, eyes locked on the little face peeking out from the blanket. She is so small, so delicate, with dark tufts of hair and the softest little hands that flex in the air. His heart is hammering in his chest, and when she lets out a tiny sigh, he is officially a goner.

"She’s—she’s so beautiful," he breathes, reaching out a trembling hand to stroke her cheek. "She looks just like you."

You laugh softly, tired but happy. "I think she has your nose."

Tony swipes at his eyes, overwhelmed. "She’s gonna be a menace, just like her dad."

"God help us."

When the nurses take her for a moment to check her vitals, Tony watches them like a hawk. His protective instincts are already in overdrive. The second they hand her back, he doesn’t hesitate.

"Can I—?" His voice is rough, full of emotion.

You nod, carefully passing Layla into his arms.

The second she settles against his chest, something deep inside Tony shifts.

He has done a lot in his life. He has built things, created things, changed the world in ways most people never will. But this? This little girl, looking up at him with barely-open eyes? This is his greatest achievement.

"Hey, baby girl," he murmurs, rocking her gently. "I’m your dad."

Layla makes a tiny noise, her mouth parting in a sleepy yawn.

Tony lets out a choked laugh. "Yeah, I know. I’m pretty great. You’re lucky you got me."

You roll your eyes, but the sight of Tony holding her so tenderly, looking at her like she’s the most precious thing in the universe, fills you with indescribable love.

The door opens, and your families rush in. Maria is the first to reach you, her eyes misty as she takes in the sight of her granddaughter.

"Oh, Tony," she breathes, pressing a hand to her heart. "She’s—she’s absolutely precious."

Howard, usually composed, clears his throat, visibly emotional. "Congratulations, son."

Your mother is already crying, rushing to your bedside and kissing your forehead. Your brother grins, peering over Tony’s shoulder to get a look at the baby. "She’s tiny," he observes.

"She’s perfect," Tony corrects, not looking away from her.

Layla Stark is officially the most loved baby in existence.

Bringing her home is an entirely new adventure.

Tony refuses to let anyone else carry her into the penthouse. He’s been watching every single movement she makes like a paranoid watchdog, convinced that she’s too fragile for the world.

When you finally settle onto the couch with her, Tony perches beside you, eyes locked onto Layla’s tiny face.

"So," you say, amused. "How does it feel to officially be a dad?"

Tony exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Like I’m holding the entire universe in my arms and I have to make sure nothing ever hurts her."

Your heart melts. "You’re already an amazing father, you know that?"

He scoffs but can’t hide his smile. "I better be. You and Layla deserve the best."

The first few nights are exhausting. Layla is up every two hours, and while you try to let Tony sleep, he refuses to leave you alone with her.

He is obsessed with watching you two.

And then, the inevitable moment happens.

One night, you’re sitting on the bed, exhausted, as Layla starts fussing. Without thinking twice, you unclip your nursing bra and guide her to your breast.

Tony, who had been half-asleep beside you, sits up immediately.

"Whoa."

You blink at him. "What?"

His eyes are locked onto you, specifically onto the fact that Layla is latched onto your breast. His ears turn red.

"Nothing, just—wow. This is… new."

You snort. "Tony, it’s literally just feeding her."

"I know that," he says, dragging a hand down his face. "It’s just—multitasking. You’re being a mom, but you’re also… you."

You laugh. "You’re ridiculous."

Tony sighs dramatically. "This is gonna take some getting used to."

Despite his embarrassment, he helps however he can. He’s up for every diaper change, every late-night rocking session, and every sleepy cuddle.

One afternoon, as Layla naps on his chest, you bring up the wedding.

"I was thinking," you say, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe we could finally set a date? When Layla’s about four months old?"

Tony stiffens, then lifts his head. "Nope."

You blink. "What do you mean, nope?"

He carefully shifts Layla off his chest and sits up, looking at you seriously.

"You just gave birth," he says. "You’re recovering. We have a newborn. The last thing you need to worry about is wedding planning."

"But—"

He silences you with a kiss.

"Later," he murmurs. "We’ll think about it later. Right now, all that matters is you, me, and Layla."

You sigh, but you know he’s right.

And as he pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead while your daughter sleeps peacefully beside you, you realize—there’s no rush.

Because no matter what, you and Tony already have everything you’ve ever wanted.

[hegodamask]

tumblr rewarding me for making over 100 posts when i’ve been on this site for 12 years? okay...

[midnightwind]

honestly what an unhinged number to casually slap on Crow!Rook's pre-game origin

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

hi what is wrong with me

[lilacevans]

Omg babe are you doing better now? Should I bury those doctors for making you sore 😡 Need me to have a talk with your pain? 🥺💕

-Curtis' 🐕

honestly, no. had to call the dreaded ex over bc i am way too unwell & all he keeps doing is complaining about how unwell he is.🙃. he’s literally fine, why do men do what men do🤣. i feel like i’ve been beaten with a sledgehammer and he’s like oh my tummyyyyy. fuck off

[tyrantwombat]

*deep sigh of frustration*

MTL

[locamotivednp]

We’ve gotten to the point of insomnia where I am just listening to the Sailor Moon OST and crying so. Always a good sign