#you think you have some things settled and then everything just falls apart

[supernotnatural2005]

His Only Exception

Pairing: Solider Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben isn't a fan of Valentines day, but he's come a long way since the fall of Vought and the days before. And maybe, you're the exception.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings/Tags: Swearing, mentions of past trauma, implied spicy times, established relationship.

AN: Okay so this is my first Solider Boy debut. 😅 This idea just came to me and thought it would be a great idea for the holiday >❤️< For the sake of this story, I have set this in an alternate reality where Solider Boy had killed Homelander and Vought's no more... I hope you all enjoy, and let me know what you think 💕

Masterlist

Valentine’s Day wasn’t exactly Ben’s thing.

Hell, he thought it was a cash grab—just another excuse for couples to pretend they were happier than they really were. Romance, flowers, chocolates? That crap wasn’t for him. The only good thing going for it was getting his dick wet. At least, that’s what he told himself.

And yet, here he was, standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, fidgeting with the edges of a small, beat-up gift box like it was a live grenade. He’d been up before you, slipping out of bed without waking you—something that never happened. Normally, he was all over you in the mornings, shamelessly getting handsy while groaning about wanting breakfast. But today was different. Today, he was a little nervous.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

After everything he’d been through—the bloodshed, the betrayal, the torture—he’d finally found some redemption. 

Homelander was gone, Vought had crumbled, and he was free to go on as he pleased. Within limits, of course—that was the agreement. But he didn’t know what to do with himself. All his so-called friends were dead—not that they were really his friends. Just ungrateful fucking leeches who got what they deserved. He had no family, and now, he was forced to navigate a world he barely recognised.

Women showed a whole lot more ass and tit than they used to, and weed was legal in most states, so there were perks. But surprisingly, Ben didn’t care much for those things anymore. 

He’d always wanted a family - to settle down, have a few little rugrats running around. But he knew he had to change in order for that to happen. Women stood up for themselves a lot more now, called him out on his bullshit, some even avoided him outright. It wasn’t like the old days, when they’d beg to suck his cock just because of who he was.

Now, he was just some washed-up, century-old superhero. A man who had killed, not only his own son, but America’s golden boy. He was either hated or respected. Never loved.

Until he met you.

Feeling lost and wallowing in self-pity, he’d reluctantly taken advice from Grace—who, despite hating his guts, had suggested he try a support group. She’d claimed that maybe, buried beneath all the ‘misogynistic, disgusting, selfish bravado’ he liked to throw around (her words), there was still some trace of humanity in him.

He hadn’t exactly helped his case when he’d laughed in her face and scoffed, “therapy is for pussies”, though.

But eventually, the loneliness, the emptiness of his old life—it all got tiring. He wanted more.

When he first saw you, sure, he thought you were easy on the eyes, a knockout really. You had nice curves, a pretty face to go with them. And you seemed like the kind of woman who respected herself, but in a sexy/ professional kinda way. But what stood out most was your kindness.

You knew who he was—everyone in that room did. Most either looked at him with fear, disgust, or curiosity. But not you.

You looked at him like he was just another guy trying to get his shit together. Just another person wanting to change. And though he’d never admit it, that’s what hooked him. It’s why, despite his disdain for that kind of thing, he kept coming back.

For once in his life, you made him feel normal. Accepted.

So when you finally took a chance on him—and it hadn’t been fucking easy to get you to—he knew he had to make it count. Now, almost a year later, he was a semi-changed man.

When you finally emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in one of his t-shirts - he was still getting used to the way the sight of you like that made his chest warm - rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Ben leaned back against the counter, trying way too hard to look casual.

“Morning, sunshine.” You gave him a soft smile before noticing something unusual. No crude morning remarks, no immediate attempt to pull you into his arms, and ravish you on the kitchen counter. Just him, standing there, looking...shifty.

Your eyes flickered to the small box in his hands. “What’s that?”

Ben huffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s stupid. Nothin’.”

You stepped closer, reaching for it, and he let you take it—though he grumbled under his breath, “It ain’t a big deal.”

You ignored him as you opened it, revealing a simple, delicate necklace. It wasn’t flashy, nothing over-the-top, but it was beautiful. Your fingers brushed over the small pendant, noticing the faint engraving of his initials on the back.

Your chest tightened. “Ben…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Look, it’s not, like, a thing.” His voice was gruff, defensive, but there was no real bite behind it. “I just figured, I dunno... chicks like this kinda shit. And I didn’t wanna be the asshole boyfriend who forgot.”

You smirked, stepping into his space, pressing your hand against his chest. “You’re such a liar.”

His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You care.” You tilted your head, studying his face. “You’re acting all tough, but this meant something to you. Admit it.”

Ben scoffed, scooping you up effortlessly and tossing you over his shoulder, making you yelp. “Jesus, you get one little gift and suddenly go all Dr. Phil on me.”

You laughed, smacking his back playfully. “You’re embarrassed!”

“I’m not fucking embarrassed,” he grumbled, carrying you back toward the bedroom. “And besides, Valentine’s Day is about one thing and one thing only, sweetheart.”

With a cocky smirk, he tossed you onto the bed, leaning over you. “And that’s me making you scream my name.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingered. He still had his rough edges, cracks that hadn’t fully sealed, old habits that died hard—but he was trying. And that’s what mattered.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a slow, lingering kiss. He groaned low in his chest, settling himself between your legs, his cock hard and heavy as it pressed against your core through his sweats. When you pulled back, you whispered, a little breathlessly, “I love you, Ben.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, like he was still trying to figure out how the hell he got lucky enough to have you. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d said it, but every time since, it hit him in a way nothing else ever had. Being loved—not for his fame, his money, or some character Vought had portrayed him be, but for who he was—was a feeling unlike any other. A high better than any drug he’d ever taken. And he’d taken a lot.

Still, the words never came easy. Vulnerability wasn’t in his nature, and saying it out loud made it real—something that could be taken from him.

So instead, with a smirk and that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, he showed you just how much he loved you. And, true to his word, it ended with you screaming his name.

AN: I hope you guys liked this one! And HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!! ❤️❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

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[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.

[doggirl-narcolepsy]

welp back to bed with me.. beenn up for literally like 5 hours and I've been told my internship will probably fall through, though I won't know until literal days before I'm supposed to start. had to cancel what little plans I had for my birthday because of the weather and I haven't eaten anything in like 48 hours..

[sysig]

Guess who :3c (Patreon)

[beloveds-embrace]

More poly!141 please and thank you my dear 🥰🤗

Anon is banished to the timeout corner to ponder on their grievances

That trope of roommates reader x poly 141…

Imagine you are Desperate with a capital D. Things aren’t lookinh bright for you, broke and stressed college student, right now in general, you need a new place quickly, and as it happens, you see an all-too-good offer while apartment searching on Craigslist. Rent is within your budget and god, the place looks really good, but…

You’ll have to share with four men. Four polyamorous men apparently, but still- men. More than one. That alone should’ve made you give up on it, not even think about considering it. It’s dangerous, incredibly so. No one within their right mind would agree to it, especially when you read that they are asking for someone who is willing to take up a good bulk of taking care of the place while they travel.

It’s clearly a scam. A front to a dangerous group.

But the apartment is even better when you actually, stupidly, agree to it. The (military, you learn soon enough) men so very handsome, helping you move in your stuff- the way Price commanded them actually made your knees tremble just a little, but you are not about to get between anyone’s relationship(s).

Moreover; you really like them. Soap is funny but he’s also the one who tries to stay up with you during your late exam studies. Keyword tries because he falls asleep anyways, head lolling on your shoulder only to end up getting carried by Ghost later.

Gaz is also funny, and he often forces you to go out when you hole up yourself for long lengths of time, get some fresh air on a walk that almost always leads to him treating you to coffee and sandwiches in the little corner bakery. Also the only one to share your love for horror movies so he’s your designated partner for whenever you wanna go to the cinemas.

Ghost and Price are your unofficial guard dogs. Grocery shopping? One or both of them tags along, carrying everything without letting you touch a single thing-

“What kind of man would let a lady carry groceries? I’m not weak, sweetheart. Let go of that bag, just see what else we’ll need.”

Ghost just stares straight down at you; no balaclava, but a black surgical mask and his hood drawn up. “Don’t even think about it.”

-and they are both bulky. They don’t even have to try to appear intimidating, everyone almost subconsciously makes way for them. Never in your entire life have you had easier shopping trips. And you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve stirred awake to find yourself carried to your bed after accidentally falling asleep on the couch.

They were not lying about the lengths of time they are gone, and you understand why they had put in that ad that landed you here in the first place. Once, they were away for months, and they have no contact with you. You always worry for them, regularly checking for any possible texts and sending them updates even when no reply comes.

(You have no ideaaa they have you saved as ‘lil missus’, ‘wifey’, ‘the madame’, ‘darlin’ in their phones. Or how much they cling to your texts even when they can’t reply yet. You don’t suspect shit, but the longer the mission drags on, the more resolved they are to just come home to you as soon as possible.

The second John checks his phone and sees your text about getting stood up on a date, his jaw clenches so tightly that Soap glances over, immediately concerned. The others quickly catch on, a tension settling over the group as he reads the message aloud.

Got stood up on that date lol

Guess its just me nd a frozen pizza tonight 🤷‍♀️ yes ik u hate frozen foods but ur not here sooo

If he wasn’t so incredibly angered by the thought of you going on a date that is not with them, getting stood up, he would have focused on your little disobedience. Would have thought of making you repeat why he hates having them in the flat while you sniffle and whine, the result of him taking his palm to your ass a few dozen times for doing this behind his back, but he can’t focus on that now.

“Let’s finish this and get home,” He hisses out at last, pocketing his phone. “Missus needs a reminder who she belongs to.”

All he gets, unsurprisingly, is approving nods.)

Back in the flat, you sneeze. How strange; you had just recently finished dusting, and everything should be clean.

It’s probably nothing.

a bit more | roommate au masterlist

[fastandcarlos]

Leo’s Little Love : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: the birth of your daughter was supposed to be the happiest moment for you and charles, but both of you forgot about leo too

Your little family had almost been complete for quite some time. You, Charles and Leo. The perfect trio. Why fix something that isn’t broke? Why add to the chaos of your crazy lives? Well, because you both couldn’t wait to become parents. 

It never was meant to be so soon, neither you or Charles had planned to fall pregnant quite so suddenly but your life had always been mayhem, and pregnancy was just another cog to add to the wheel of things that you needed to juggle together.  

It had been touch and go for quite some time as your baby’s arrival loomed. With just two weeks to go Charles had never been happier to see the start of the summer break which meant at last he could be glued to your side and be there just in case anything happened. 

Being at home was something that Charles very quickly got used to, laid out on the sofa with you tucked into his side. Charles didn’t always get his own way though, with Leo snuggled just underneath your bump to block Charles holding onto it. 

“I wonder how he’s going to be.” 

Your attention was pulled from your book when Charles spoke, following his gaze down to where Leo laid, snoring lightly with his eyes tight shut. 

“What do you mean?” You asked him. 

“I’m just thinking about when the baby arrives, do you think Leo will respond well to not being the centre of our attention anymore?” Charles questioned. 

Your eyes flickered between Charles and Leo and your bump as you pondered Charles’ question. Truthfully, it was something that you had never quite thought about before, but if there was one word that you’d use to describe Leo, it was definitely needy.  

“I think he’ll enjoy having someone else to be around,” you spoke after a few moments. 

“He’ll definitely love an extra body to cuddle up to.” 

It was almost as if he knew that you were talking about him, as Leo’s head lifted up and his wide eyes looked at you both as if to remind you that he could hear everything.  

“You know, I’ve got a feeling that Leo and this baby might just end up being the best of friends, I definitely think we’re going to have trouble on our hands.” 

Ever since that conversation you pictured how your family, or especially Leo, would adapt to the baby, counting down the days until all those dream scenarios became a reality.  

And just a couple of weeks later your little girl arrived. It was tougher than you could have ever imagined, but with Charles not leaving your side for the many hours that you were in labour for, your family was soon complete. Charles was an emotional mess beside you, but through his tears he knew that he’d just experienced the best moments of his entire life. 

You might’ve been a little bit bias, but your baby girl was the definition of perfect. Straight away you were drawn to her bright eyes, a striking resemblance to Charles’. They captured your attention, just like Charles’ had done many years ago when the two of you first met.  

And as Charles held her for the first time and you got your first look at the two of them side by side, you knew you had a daddy’s girl on your hands. She was instantly besotted, settled and comfortable in Charles’ strong hold, almost as if you were the one who was intruding on the moment between your husband and your child despite being the one to bring her into the world. 

“It’s a good job we’ve got Leo otherwise I think I’d be outnumbered at home with you two,” you joked as Charles made himself comfortable.  

You knew deep down though you wouldn’t have Leo for long, as the two of you arrived home with your daughter. It had been a couple of days since he got to see you and Charles, unaware that a new arrival was waiting on the other side of the door to greet him too. 

Together you took things slowly as you returned to your apartment, Charles took Leo into your bedroom whilst you settled in the living room with your daughter. Once you were sure that she was settled you called through to Charles who poked his head out from behind the bedroom door. 

“Are you absolutely sure about doing this now?” Charles nervously asked you. 

“Charles, we’re going to have to do it sooner or later. We might as well get it over with whilst they’re both pretty settled.” 

He trusted you more than anyone, and so Charles decided to open the bedroom door and allow Leo to come out. It was as if nothing was going on as if strolled through the apartment, that was until his eye was caught by the carrier that sat on your living room floor. Charles came over and sat beside you, his hand on your thigh as Leo began to inspect. 

Leo had a little sniff around the carrier as he familiarised with the something new that had entered his home. After giving him a moment you reached into the carrier and lifted your daughter out, holding her just in front of where Leo was. 

It took a little while for Leo to stop fussing over your daughter, looking up at you and Charles. His eyes told the two of you that he approved of your little girl, walking away from her once he was happy with what was going on. 

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.” 

Your words were truer than ever though that night as Charles laid on your bed with his daughter laid just beside him. You walked through after taking an overdue shower, surprised to see that there was another addition to your bed. They say that three is a crowd, but not in this case. 

Your heart felt like it could burst as your daughter laid between Charles on her left, and Leo on her right, his head almost touching hers as if to reassure her that he was right beside her too. 

Charles’ eyes knew exactly where you were looking. You were supposed to be annoyed that your side of the bed had been stolen, but instead it was a memory that you wanted to snapshot for the rest of your life. 

You were sure that you had never seen anything so beautiful in your life, Leo had made sure your daughter was well protected and surrounded by love. Even Charles couldn’t get as close to her as Leo was, firmly establishing himself as her number one. 

Just like you, Charles couldn’t fault the scene that was unfolding in front of you though. Things had gone better than either of you could have ever imagined, all of the concerns that Charles had had long been forgotten now that your family of four were all home together.  

“Why do I feel like we’re never going to be allowed near our daughter ever again?” Charles laughed across at you. 

“I think out of the three of us, she’s definitely Leo’s love before she’s ours,” you added, unable to wipe the smile from your face. “I think they’re going to be the best of friends.” 

Charles hummed in agreement with you, tilting his head down to watch them both once again. If he could pause time forever, he absolutely would. It was all that he had ever dreamt of, and so much more. 

“We’ve got the two most beautiful children in the world.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓���𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[sugarwarachan]

part two, you dirty birdies. go read this first to catch up! summary: A city-wide blackout leads to some questionable decisions on Eraserhead's part: for four nights in a row now, Aizawa Shouta has been watching you get yourself off. Is tonight the night he joins in? pairing: aizawa shouta x citizen!reader wc: 2.4k (oops) content warnings: SMUT mdni, dark content, stalker!aizawa, voyeurism, dubcon, power imbalance (pro hero/civilian, ya know), obsessive behavior, voice kink, dirty talk, blindfolds are involved, piv sex, oral f!receiving, spanking, dom/sub elements but not explicitly stated, aizawa's big dick, creampie, unprotected sex (do not do this!!! especially with strangers!!! this is fiction!!!)

Aizawa knows he shouldn’t go back.

It was already enough of a risk to hear your voice; that he's considering confirming his identity with you should have alarm bells blaring in his head.

But logic abandoned him hours ago.

Your message, come back tomorrow <3, blinks in his head. At this point, he’s just waiting for the city to fall asleep so he can slip out along the ledge and head straight to you.

Part of him is bizarrely nervous to replace the distance with reality, but the thought of never feeling your weight on top of him erases all arguments.

As soon as night falls, he winds his capture weapon around his neck and slides out into the dark.

All day long, you’ve been aching and hot, sliding your thighs together under the desk at work to relieve some of the pressure.

There’s no guarantee he’ll come back. You’ve told yourself this ever since you woke up gasping for breath, rocking your hips against a pillow.

It’s like he possessed you, you muse on the train ride home, the force of the train cars rattling your already frazzled head. You’ve never felt this way in your life, desire snapping and fizzing under your skin.

Your apartment looks exactly the same as when you left, straight down to the kicked-over coat stand you’d jostled on your way out the door. It’s all so maddeningly ordinary that it takes everything within you not to scream.

It’s almost like last night didn’t happen at all.

“No need to sigh like that, sweetheart.”

His voice comes from behind you. Fear zips up your spine like dynamite sparking, your stomach bottoming out in one fell swoop.

He’s here.

Something winds around your wrists and face, obscuring your vision and tugging your body back. You collide with someone who smells like cedar and books and black coffee.

You breathe in his scent as the fear melts to excitement, to anticipation.

He’s here.

“Miss me, sweet girl?”

You’d think huffing him in like a fucking croissant would be a dead giveaway.

“What’s with the blindfold?” you ask instead. Angling your head in various ways does nothing. He made sure you can’t make him out, only confirming your previous hunch. He’s a pro, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want anyone to know he’s sneaking into girls’ apartments and fucking them stupid.

“You’re smarter than that.”

His voice is even better in person; you can feel the rumble of it against your neck. He loosens his hold on the cloth binding your wrists. Your hands naturally settle on the broad expanse of his chest.

He says the next thing nice and soft, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You understand the out for what it is, but you’re willing to sacrifice your sight for a taste of what he offered you yesterday.

“I’d like to do some things,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. “I don’t know what you did to me, but if you don’t touch me in the next few seconds, I feel like I’ll pass out.”

You don’t even realize you’re grinding yourself on his thigh until his hand splays across your hip, stilling you. Flipping you around, he cages you against the door, teeth scraping down the side of your throat.

“You don’t know what I did to you?” He punctuates the ask by kicking your feet apart with the heel of his boot. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a keen high in your throat. “What about what you did to me? Feels like I’ve got you floating around my fucking bloodstream.”

With a growl, he scoops you up and pins you against the door with his hips, mouth bracketing over yours.

“Can’t get your pretty little noises out of my head,” he says against your lips, sounding like a man at a confessional. His hips jerk, the length of his erection pulsing between you. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty picture you sent me.”

He laves at your collarbone with his tongue, hand resting in the hollow of your throat. The gentlest squeeze elicits your softest sigh. He grunts at the sound, thick fingers applying more pressure before falling to your waist and locking you in place. His breath skates over your cheek; you feel the rasp of stubble on your skin.

“Let me take you to bed, sweetheart.”

God, his voice makes your knees fucking buckle. His forearm is tight around your back, holding you close.

“Please.”

You don’t recognize that whine as your voice; you’ve never sounded this eager, never felt this aching pulse in your core the way you do now. You need him to mold your insides to the shape of him, to pin you down on the mattress and take you.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. You don’t know him, not really, but you like this aspect of his personality. He makes his want for you tangible, so sharp you can practically taste it in the air. It’s like he’d rather die than leave you unsatisfied, and honestly, you don’t think anyone’s made you feel like that.

You can’t help liking it.

He taps open the door to your room with the toe of his boot. Lips slanted over yours, his tongue presses behind your teeth, licking into your mouth in the filthiest kiss you’ve ever shared with someone. It’s a sloppy clash of teeth and tongues; your hands fist in his hair as he caresses his thumbs over the skin of your hips.

“Take your clothes off.”

You obey just as you did on the phone, the rush to do so shooting a wave of heat over your face.

“That’s my girl, fuckin’ eager for it, huh?” You wish you could see his face; you want to match the feral snarl you hear with an expression. He sounds like he’s enjoying it, standing in front of you fully clothed while your arousal drips down your fucking legs.

You cross your legs together and he laughs, the hot span of his hands splaying over your hips as he tugs you to him.

“I know you’re needy, baby; you’re already doin’ so good for me. You listen just a little longer and I’ll make sure this pretty little pussy of yours gets the treatment she deserves, okay?” He cups your cunt in the palm of his hand; immediately, you rock against him, the meat of his palm bunching over your clit. He spanks your ass sharply. “Get on the bed and spread your legs open.”

Your muscles are shaky; your thighs tremble as you settle on the bed. You’ve never wanted to be able to see more than right now, spread out and vulnerable underneath a stranger’s gaze.

Before doubt can blare in your head, you hear him, “Fucking Christ, sweetheart, look at you. Absolutely gorgeous.”

His knee dips the mattress; his hands pry your thighs apart obscenely.

“She’s prettier up close,” he says, and then sucks your clit into his mouth.

You buck your hips into his face. He holds you down with his other hand and sucks harder. The sound you make has pre-cum spurting from his cock.

He’ll fucking cum like this if he’s not careful, rutting his hips on the sheets with your thighs choking off his air supply.

Worse ways to go, all things considered.

“You’ve been pent-up for a while, hmm?” He turns his head to kiss at the soft skin of your inner thigh, slick shimmering in the moonlight. He almost wishes his stubble were longer so he could capture more of your scent.

You smell so fucking good; he inhales and runs his teeth up the inside of your thigh, biting and sucking, grinding your clit on his nose. You whimper and lock your hands on his hair, silently begging for more.

He runs the flat of his tongue over your clit before breaking away. His dick jumps at your growl of frustration.

“Let’s stretch you out on my fingers first, pretty girl. I wasn’t just talking myself up yesterday.” He coats his fingers in your arousal, inhales the musky sweet scent of you like a drug. “You’re gonna need a little prep before you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers in. Your cunt sucks him in, gummy walls immediately clamping down. He drops his forehead to yours, thinks wildly about ripping away the blindfold, of forcing you to hold his gaze while he makes your pussy gush on his hands.

“More,” you cry out, and he obliges, working three fingers in, twisting and pressing and stroking, listening to your small gasps, waiting for the breath in your voice to catch. "Sho, please—"

Aizawa bites down on his lower lip when your back bows, fingers scrabbling at his forearm, holding his hand in place as you rock back and forth on his fingers. One little pinch of your clit and you’re sobbing out his name.

He lopes an arm under you and pulls you to him. Your breath comes out in shuddery little gasps.

“All good, sweetheart?”

You nod against his neck, already nosing at his throat for a kiss.

He doesn’t know what possesses him.

“I’ll let you take off the blindfold if you get on your hands and knees.”

The noise you make is so embarrassingly eager you almost cringe.

You might see him.

You arrange yourself as he asks, wiggling your ass and arching your back. You gasp when he palms your hip, pulling you back against his clothed cock.

"Can I take it off now?" you try to ask as coy as you can, but you just sound like a fucked-out mess. He feels big. You saw the picture but it's nothing compared to feeling the ridge of his shaft pulsing along the cleft of your ass. You choke on a groan, undulating your hips in a desperate move to calm the ache in your lower belly.

He grunts behind you and palms the back of your head. “Eyes forward, or you aren’t getting fucked. Understand?”

You nod into the mattress, not trusting your own voice.

"Words, princess, didn't we talk about this last time?" His tone is between condescending and tender and it's making your insides turn to fucking goo.

"I understand."

"Good."

You hear the clink of buckles, the rustle of a zipper.

"I'll only keep my eyes forward if all your clothes come off, though."

You know you're pushing it, pushing him, but fuck, you need his skin on yours so you can sear him into your fucking brain.

You squeal at the crack of pain when his palm collides with your ass.

"Mouthy tonight, honey?" There's his hand again, collaring the back of your neck. You throw your hips back at him; he spanks you again. "Fuck, you know what you're doin', don't you? My little cocktease want her pussy stuffed that badly?"

No one's talked to you like this. No one's ever said exactly the sort of profane filth you've longed to hear.

"Yes," you sob out.

"The clothes come off then, you little brat."

When he settles behind you, the hot ridge of his dick slides between your folds and you jerk back into him. The blindfold falls away.

"Goddammit," he growls out, fingers digging into the plush of your hips. "Fuck, you're soaking wet, baby. Can already feel her trying to suck me in, isn't that right?" He palms your lower belly. "You're gonna feel me right fuckin' here. I'm gonna be so deep inside you you'll forget about everything but me, you understand?"

His cockhead tips into your fluttering hole. Fuck, he is big. You peer back between your tits at where he's disappearing into you. The girth and length of him makes your stomach bottom out.

His hand pushes down on your lower back, bowing your ass up.

"Don't run away, let me work my way in, huh? Make my pretty girl feel so fucking full." Another inch of him slots inside you. The stretch of it burns slightly, but the pain recedes when he rubs little circles on your clit. "Fuckkkk, baby, you have any idea how perfect this tight little pussy is? Feels like you're suckin' the life out of me."

The drag of his cock inside you makes your eyes cross. With every thrust, he rubs the head of his dick on your g spot, hand locked in a possessive clutch on your lower belly.

"Put your hand here, feel where I'm fucking you." With one hand on top of yours, he presses down hard. You buck, the sensation almost too much. "No one else is ever gonna have this pussy, you hear me? It's fucking mine, sweet girl, mine to fuck, mine to feast on, mine to fill up with cum—"

The heel of his hand grinds down on your clit and that's all it takes before your orgasm collapses your lungs and shorts out your brain. Everything detonates, star-bursts of pleasure exploding in your core until tears stream down your face.

His rhythm barely falters as he fucks you through it, mouth hot on the back of your neck. "Keep goin', princess, you can cum again, can't ya? One more time, just for me. There's my fuckin' girl, milk every fucking drop out of me, fuck—"

You can only imagine the milky ring of cum and arousal coating his cock as he wrenches another orgasm from your tired body. His dick pulses inside you, a guttural moan reverberating from his throat so deeply you practically feel it in your gut.

He stays inside you for a few more moments, both of you catching your breath. When he slips out, you groan at the loss.

"Be right back, sweet girl. Blindfold goes back on, too."

He laughs when you pout, cloth obscuring your vision once more.

When he comes back, he dips a warm cloth between your thighs, swabbing away the gooey mess. You're so sensitive you hiss out a sharp breath. He presses a glass of water into your hand. You gulp it down with gusto.

"I already blocked off where I came in from," he's saying, and you can't help but roll your eyes even if he can't see the motion. You wonder how he chalks up this whole excursion in his stupid pro hero head.

"Don’t want anyone else getting to me or something?"

He clears his throat. "Or something."

The scrape of your window sounds. "I'd start locking these if I were you."

You know he's gone when the cloth whips away from your face, the flutter of your gauzy white curtains the only proof he was there.

taglist: @cryingintheclubdhmu @abigolemess @rindarudoesshonen @simplyraeblue @ermmclovingit @deputyazor @lizzobeth @quinn0-0 @hotlosergirl17 @mother-hellsing

[mistymisfit]

A leaky faucet and other problems (or how he asked you to move in together)

wc:2.3k

warnings: suggestive content, a creepy neighbor, living in an old ass apartment problems

a/n: inspired by actual things that have broken in my apartment and my need to tell everyone I love them when I drink

He's tired, that he can know for sure. His body is sore, begging for some rest as he finds his place on your bed. In your sleep, you cuddle yourself closer to him, arms wrapping around him and legs tangling with his own. You were under the blankets, covered head to toe and even wearing a sweatshirt, and still needed more warmth. He knew you were more sensitive to the cold than him, but still felt it a bit excessive. Yes, your place was cold, but it wasn't a shivering-there's snow outside type of weather. It was early fall, so the temperature could drop during the night, but never enough to warrant this type of protection. Then he felt the freezing gust of wind coming through your window with a noise that felt straight out of a horror movie. Why didn't you close it? When he tries getting up again, you stop him. A sigh of his name and your soft hands made him drop his head in his pillow.

"Where are you goin'?" You slurred, barely conscious.

"Your window's open, 'm just gonna close it,"

"Don't bother," You pulled him closer. "It's stuck."

"I'll just give it a shot." He gently takes your arm off him, tucking you in before he even goes to the window.

You sigh, he knows you'd roll your eyes if they were open. He struggles, putting all his weight, trying to get your window to slide and close. And you sit on the bed, turning the little lampshade on your nightstand to see your boyfriend fighting with your bedroom window in his underwear.

"Jay, just come to bed," you insist, and as tempting as it sounds, he won't give up.

"You'll waste a lot on heating this room,"

"My heating doesn't even work." You yawn, and he turns back, staring at you in disbelief.

"Babe," You could feel the lecture coming after that sigh, so you beat him to it.

"My lease is up in a few months, I'll move before the winter, and it'll be my landlord's problem,"He doesn't seem content with your explanation, but takes it anyway. It's better than arguing at six thirty in the morning on a Sunday.

"Fine," He mutters, slowly dragging his feet back to bed with you. "I'm still fixing that window tomorrow "

You called him, all giggly and drunk, asking if he could pick you up from your friend's birthday. He had been waiting for you to do so, and insisted that no matter how late, he'd drop whatever he's doing and drive you home. So he shreds the Red Hood gear, hides it under a false bottom on the trunk of his car, and drives to whatever location you sent him. You're especially handsy, clinging to him as soon as you could. Greeting him with a big toothy grin before tugging on his jacket to lean him down so you could kiss him. Your friends cheer, and he pulls away embarrassed. Since when do you like PDA? He lets out a nervous laugh as you wave your goodbyes to your friends, walking out wrapped around his arm.

You don't stop praising him the entire ride to your apartment, telling him how good of a boyfriend he was, how perfect he was, and listing everything you liked about him. Completely unaware of how his face was burning red, the blush reaching up to his ears. You even reached to kiss his cheek on a red light. He just makes you settle down on your seat, asking you to sit still for the reminding blocks, muttering a low "Jesus fucking Christ"

Jason all but had to drag you to your elevator, and you're all giggles when he asks you to give him your keys when he can't find his. You hold them out in front of you, but when he goes to take them, you're fast to grab his jacket once more to kiss him. What the hell, he thinks, might as well give you what you want. So he pushes your back against your door, your lips parting in a gasp when he pushes his knee in between your legs.

That's when another door next to you slowly opens and an old man peeks his head out to see what's going on. Your entire demeanor changes, hiding behind Jason and whispering: "Please, open the door".

"I'm sorry," He apologizes.

"Ah, no worries," The man pushes open his door a bit more and Jason doesn't miss the way he's eyeing you"Do you need any help?"

"We're good," He does a great job of pretending to be cordial but firm "goodnight"

You're quick to walk inside, tugging on his sleeve so he would follow you. Putting on every lock on your door as soon as you're both inside, clearly shaken by the presence of your neighbor. He decides to have some mercy and question you about it tomorrow when you're sober. But that night, he didn't push you when you said you were okay, and only helped you get undressed and ready to go to bed before he left out of one of your working windows.

A few weeks later, he caught that same man trying to open your door. You wouldn't be home in a couple of hours, that's why he went ahead and did some much-needed grocery shopping for you. He just cleared his throat behind him, startling him and intimidating him from his height alone. Jason had broad shoulders, and even behind his clothes, the man could tell that he had the muscles needed to beat him up quite badly.

"I just wanted to come in and say hello, but her door's always locked," He explains, Jason stays quiet. Why wouldn't it be? But more importantly, has he tried to break in before? The guy can see the set of keys in his hand, brows furrowing as he thinks "You're her boyfriend, right?"

"Yes" His reply is short, as he eyes him up. Assessing weak points and how fast he could take him down if needed.

"And I take it you live with her?"

"I do,"He lies, hitting the man's shoulder as he walks past him to get to the door "and back off"

His warning is enough to scare him as he nods walking back to his apartment as fast as he can. You've got some explaining to do once you get back. And you do, he calls you to sit on the couch with him as you thank him for taking care of the groceries. You had already started to talk about what to make for dinner and what movie you could watch together before he left when he interrupted you.

"Baby,"You stop, recognizing the stern tone that just screams don't play with me "is there anything you wanna tell me?"

You shake your head no, and he shifts closer to you before insisting: "not even about your neighbor who tried to break in today?"

"Mr. Davis?" You sigh defeated, "He's just an idiot, a harmless idiot"

"So that's his name," He raises an eyebrow, already planning how to fuck with this guy's head in a way that will leave him too afraid even to get out of his place for the rest of his life. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Because you get all scary like this!" You push his shoulder, effectively doing nothing "I can tell you're coming up with some strange way to scare him"

"I'm not!" He lies, looking away and telling you all you needed to know to see you were right.

"You are!" You laugh, the tension suddenly dissipating as you grab one of the decorative pillows to hit him. He takes the pillow from your hands and throws it away, before he can even think of retaliating; you're straddling him, and his hands went to your waist by instinct alone "Promise you won't do anything"

"Don't make me lie," He pleads, and you roll your eyes at the cheeky smirk on his face."You said you wanted pizza and to watch a horror movie? Right?"  

"Jason"

"Fine, I promise" He gives in, and you smile before he adds: "not to leave him with injuries that'll last for the rest of his life"

He's barely had time to say hello and explain how tired he was after training before you were on him. He was expecting a quick peck on the lips as always, he always kisses you when he sees you; it's routine. But when he notices your devious smirk before pulling him in he knows you're up to something.

"Mind if I take a shower first?" He asks, hands on your waist, keeping you in place. Since when is your hello kiss a hello make out?

You shake your head no, but follow behind him to your bedroom. He shakes his head, scoffing as he sits on your bed to take off his shoes. You sit behind him, peppering kisses on the side of his face and then his neck.

"Needy, aren't we?" He smiles, turning to kiss you. He melts into your lips, a hand cupping the back of your head as yours sneak under his clothes before pulling up his shirt to help him out of it. "C'mon princess, 'm filthy"

"Don't care,"you sighed against his lips, hands finding their way under the waistband of his sweatpants. "I like you like this."

"Okay," He laughs nervously, and takes your hands off him.

"Ask me to join you in the shower." You offer

"Yeah?" You nod along him, smiling.

Then he hears it. Tap, tap, tap. It's an insufferable noise coming from your bathroom. Do you not hear it? He takes a deep breath so it won't get to him. He's with you now, and somehow you're trying to get into his pants just 'cause. There's no way he's ruining this with you, so he kisses you again, trying to knock the air out of your lungs in the hopes it'll silence the incessant noise. It doesn't. Not even when he grabs your hips to guide you to straddle him. Not even when he hears your pretty moans of his name, begging for more. And not even when you grind on him, making his breath stutter.

"I'm sorry," Jason stops you, your big eyes staring at him as you wait for him to speak. He almost forgets what he's going to say, too lost in your gaze to form words but (un)luckily the dripping noise pulls him out of it. "what's that noise?"

"What noise?" Your tone is soft, almost curious. Did you really not hear it? Or had you become too accustomed to it?

"Your bathroom..." He licks his lips, his eyes involuntarily going to yours. He quickly moves up his sight before he speaks: "Do you have a leak?"

"Oh, yeah" You smile, like it's the most common thing in the world "it's my faucet, but I've already called my landlord, and said he couldn't get it fixed until next week"

"Really?" He raises one eyebrow, anger boiling up inside him as he tries to hold it back. Maybe he should pay a visit to your landlord without your knowledge too; you couldn't be living in these conditions anymore. He sighs and pushes it back, he knows you wouldn't like it "You know, I could get some tools and fix a couple of things for you"

"Maybe later" You suggest your hands lifting up your shirt before he stops you.

"Ten minutes, I have a safe house nearby" He's blushing now.

He's faster than ten minutes, you know because you barely sat down to read a couple of pages before he was back. You put the book down to watch something way more entertaining, your boyfriend doing things for you.

"Baby,"

"Yeah?"

"Not much seems to work around here," He sighs, your eyes laser focused on how his arms flex as he tightens your leaking faucet, effectively fixing it in just a few seconds. Something you were told you had to wait a week for. "Plus, you've got a creepy neighbor that you won't let me beat up"

"hmm, It's closer to my job than my last place" You explain, half paying attention to what he's saying.

"You'll move out, won't you?" He's beating around the bush, avoiding what he actually wants to say.

"I already found a place, it's smaller, but it's a new building" You smile as you lean on the door frame; you almost laugh at your own joke before you say it "and I'm not bringing the creepy neighbor with me"

"Don't sign the lease," He blurts out, nervous. It's now or never.

"What? Why not?"

"Let's move in together," The serious stare he gives you leaves you speechless, he was ready for that? "I mean, I already spend a lot of time here... would be nice to have more space than half a drawer for my clothes"

He fidgets the wrench nervously waiting for your answer. He could take no for an answer, but it didn't mean it wouldn't shatter his heart in pieces. But just a few seconds later, not allowing him to overthink your lips twist up in a smile before you jump at him. He catches you not even taking a step back or loosing balance, but dropping the tool in the process. You're quick to kiss him all over his face, your lips never staying on the same place for more than a few seconds.

"I'd love that, you can have a full drawer if you want" He scoffs as he kisses you again, slowing down your sudden burst of energy

"You're gonna fuck me in the shower now?"

"Yes" He nods, poorly concealing his excitement.

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls Lore Concept- The Oracle and Bill

The Oracle:

I was initially inspired by the Twitter user @SUwu159's depiction of the Oracle in their take on Relativity Falls, and made my own adaptation as I learned about her in canon.

(Assume she can change colors because I couldn't pick what I liked most)

This version of The Oracle isn't malicious per se, and does not desire the same conquest or chaos sought out by Bill. But she likes universes to be organized and quaint (or answers to another high power that demands it), and finds fulfillment in achieving these goals through any means necessary.

The Oracle and Dipper:

(Sorry if this dialogue tastes like a corndog in your mouth. I just needed to write a semi-resolution to Dipper's side of the relationship, ha.)

Getting into the real struggle with the Pines family. Dipper and Mabel don't fight and hold grudges like the Stans (that we've seen of), so my opinion is that they drifted apart in their late teens and twenties, both feeling pressured to be less attached at the hip. My current belief (though I'm very willing to rewrite this section) is that Mabel and Dipper both poured a lot of energy into pretty niche fields, and being very busy meant very short and rare windows to reach out. Both assumed the other was doing bigger and better things and felt self conscious / childish for wanting eachother's company.

I'm still considering Mabel's backstory, since I think she probably hit lower points than Dipper. You know. Starving artist, lol. But Dipper entered into paranormal investigation, pest control, etc. before his ghost + monster catching went far enough for his name to gain some notoriety. Hell, maybe Pacifica's family reached out to him to take care of "rats" that were actually ghosts, cementing his interest in Gravity Falls and giving him a window inter supernatural work.

Dipper was taken on as something of an apprentice to the Oracle 30ish years before canon as word of his good and dangerous deeds spread. However, what was at first a personal dream come true (saving lives with nerd magic) soon became a personal hell as the Oracle began to overwhelm Dipper with knowledge of various futures and universes where everything he cared about could be destroyed. He's always been over prepared and incredibly paranoid, and became obsessed with protecting the world by acting as a partner to the Oracle.

He ends up doing- or not doing- a lot of morally ambiguous things and gaining a lot of enemies. He is too ashamed to face his family- especially Mabel- with what he's done and burden them, giving the Oracle more to use against him to keep him working for her. Basically "you've already done all this and risked it all, there's nowhere to go if you stop now." Eventually this ends in her seeing him fit for her work and convincing him to hide out in and save other universes, which he gets trapped doing for the next three decades.

Little throw away idea: Pacifica could have been an investor or partner, but left as they uncovered secrets about the Northwest family. Maybe she wanted to undo something (debating making any of the Oracle's powers time related just because I hate time travel) or stop a current show of corruption, but Dipper had to stop her for the "greater good."

In the main universe, Mabel goes to Gravity Falls upon news of her brother's disappearance, searching for any loose end to trace back to him.

I love that in canon, Dipper is willing to do anything for Mabel, and Mabel gives it back. Dipper here spends all of his life keeping as many versions of her as safe as he can, and she spends all her life trying go seek him out- maybe even dropping a larger opportunity outside of Gravity Falls for her art and settling on business at the shack. Dipper wants Mabel alive, Mabel wants them both happy. I like the idea that it's Dipper and Mable vs. The Future but the future is a demon, alien thing.

Which leads me to...

Bill Cipher:

I'm actually gonna cover a couple versions of Bill I think are fitting for this AU, because I initially wasn't sure if I wanted him here at all.

Child Bill:

Pretty straight forward. Bill as a baby, child thing is tempting and this is the au where he'd exist. Personally though, I think Ford's friendship with Fidds would be more enriching to his growth, and Bill's personality is so close to Stan's they would likely be competing to fill very similiar roles. (If Bill behaves differenty as kid, I don't know about it.) Honestly, Bill is super similiar to Ford and Stan, and works better as a kind of foil or antagonist because of that (imo). I do find the mental image of Ford carrying Bill around funny. I do not enjoy human bill like, conceptually, so I'm probably never gonna design one as an adult or child, lol.

It would be cool to see a world where Bill didn't accidentally kill his parents though.

Bill - Reincarnated Original

Technically I guess they could all be reincarneted (especially baby Bill), but this version of Bill experienced and holds memories of the original canon events in GF. Beings like Bill and the Oracle can remember recent/soon approaching lives, and catch glimpses of more distant cycles as well.

What I like about Bill's recent role as an antagonist to Ford and Stan is that he constantly describes them in the terms of their worst traits, and sees them through the lens of the roles the world placed on them. In this AU, Bill is the epitome of the past (in this case a past life) coming back to bite the twins. He rattles their progress in communication as well as their sense of inner peace by bringing old Glass Shard Beach issues into Gravity Falls.

(Depicted here-> moments after Ford summons Bill using the same ritual as Gideon.)

The drawback to this is that it feels a lot like covering old ground.

Simply Bill:

This is pretty much just regular old Bill with the same fresh perspective as everyone else, and also the one I'm going with. He tried and failed to get Dipper's trust in the past and had to lay low at the arrival of the Oracle. Once they left, Bill targeted Mabel. I think it could be very interesting for Mabel and Bill to either have a fresh relationship wherein Bill is actively taking advantage of her desperation to find Dipper, or for Bill to be an old betrayal (not romantic, but not dissimilar to the opportunistic exes Stan and Ford have to be wary of and beat back under the rug regardless).

Either he shows himself to Mable early on, or decides that Gravity Falls is both Oracle-free and worth the time after either Ford or Mable summon him. Afterall, 30 years isn't much to him.

Maybe he exists in the background like he's always done, or the kids (being snoopy and disrespectful of Mabel's secrets) discover what Mabel's doing and run into him on their own.

Whether Bill is aware of the original series or not, I think he could be neat to stick in between Stan and Ford again for conflict. My favorite aspect about Relativity Falls is the prospects of the Stans having a larger support system and better tools to help themselves with. Beating Bill faster and better would be the ultimate testament to Mabel and Dipper's skills as functioning role models, even if Mabel is currently blinded by her focus on Dipper.

Stan and Ford will fight and they will make up, but this time maybe they can overcome it on their own.

I also think a good idea is having Ford and Stan's issues be completely Bill free (outside of like an episode or two's worth of relevance, unless he put them into a particularly stinging situation). It would feel fresher and also streamline the plot, lol.

Overview:

- Dipper is stuck travelling the multiverse with the Oracle and keeps himself sane by thinking of Mabel and protecting various versions of her.

- Mabel is investigating his disappearance in Gravity Falls and is working on a portal/portal equivalent with Bill to bring him back.

- The kids may or may not be aware of this.

Looking at the main series of events, I think it'd be neat go back to the apprenticeship conflict, where Ford could be approached by the Oracle (or something else that makes sense) with the promise of being a "hero," but knows better now because of Dipper and his experiences with Bill. It's kind of a more convoluted version of Ford's proposal to Dipper in canon, and they basically learn the same thing, lol. You can hang out with ghosts if you want, but demons are gonna get you. Maybe being a child with siblings is all you need.

(Stan could also be offered this, given the Oracle already knew he- or at least someone with his face- would beat Bill, but I think it's well established he isn't very interested in doing anything without family.)

All in all, things might be a bit crowded with two antagonists. But I do like the concept of Bill's arrival and subsequent chaos triggering Dipper and the Oracle's return to Mabel's dimension. I also love the idea of Bill, the Oracle, and some secret third thing all trying to pull the Pines family apart, and it's like a Man vs. God turned into a Family vs. Destiny thing, idk. Just trying to make it feel bigger.

Thank you for reading all this. It was a lot to draw. Next time I do anything for Relativity Falls, I'm gonna go back to the smaller things like Mabel bonding with the kids and stuff like that.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Tenacity

Pairing: Boston Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel Miller will never allow himself to take what he wants and you know that. How can a broken shower make him realize it's too late and he's already fallen for you? (Or Joel fucks you on his beat up couch in the QZ.) Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, apocalypse birth control, old furniture doing old furniture things, a grown man dealing with feelings, apologies for the Tess erasure. Words: 2,300

A/N: @ohheypedrito mentioned couch Joel and I couldn't help myself, I am forever in her debt. Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta'ing

Masterlist

____

He knows he shouldn’t have let you in, he should’ve stayed silent and let you think he wasn’t home, but he can never say no to you, a fact you’re well aware of. Your shower has been broken for months, sure you can ask another neighbor, but Joel’s place is your first choice, never bringing a towel, always choosing to wrap yourself in his scent. 

You smirk that devilish look and without a word saunter into his bathroom. He settles on the couch, large body dipping in the underfilled cushions, his back aches after a long day of work. The last thing he needs to deal with is his budding erection pressing against the metal zipper but he just can’t stop thinking about your body dripping wet in that damn dirty shower of his. 

He’s exhausted, his head thuds against the floral wallpaper turning yellow with age and decay, he can only assume this miniscule apartment once belonged to a nice old woman who liked soft pretty things. Joel too likes soft pretty things, the one he likes the most just happens to be you, currently happily humming behind the bathroom door you refuse to fully close. His eyes focus up on the dingy ceiling above praying for a reprieve from the emotions that bloom within him whenever he thinks of you. 

The tap turns off, he steels himself, straightening his sore body. God damnit, he thinks throwing an arm to stretch across the back of the couch. The hand resting against his upper thigh nervously taps against his jeans. Funny that you’re the only thing in this world to make him anxious and yet your presence always leaves him tranquil.  He already knows where this will lead, he must be some sort of masochist, never feeling like he deserves your attention but still accepting anything you’ll gift him. 

The sound of your post shower routine floats across the small room. Curtain opens, curtain shuts, pitter patters of your feet to the towel rack, a woosh of the heavy fibers settling against your body, your contented hum that prickles against the back of Joel’s neck. You’re the only bright spot in this hellhole, a shining ray that blinds his mind and heart whenever he wonders how someone like you can exist in a world like this. 

The dim living room floods with a beam of light from the bathroom, steam billows out of the doorway, your form wrapped only in his towel steps out of the fog, he swears this might be what heaven looks like. There’s enough space for you to change into your clothes in the bathroom, but you never do. 

That smirk shows up again, heaven and hell existing in one crooked grin stretched across your mouth. Joel’s never been a religious man, sure he’s prayed during hopeless times in his life, but tonight, he prays to whatever being that will listen to give him the strength so he may provide you everything he has without falling even harder. 

Temptress… your foot rests atop the coffee table, delicate hands running along your outstretched leg rubbing sweet smelling oil across your skin. Joel knows his body is marred and battered, rough and calloused, he questions why in the hell you’d ever want your silken curves anywhere near him. You switch legs, if only the room was brighter he could turn his head just a bit and look up the towel. 

No need for that, a telepathic wave treads through his brain as he watches you unwrap the towel and toss it aside. Naked and standing only a few feet away from him, he knows it’s not voyeurism when you’re so eagerly inviting him to look but he still feels an inkling of shame. Sweet, sweet girl. Your oil coated palms leave a trail of sheen across the skin he can’t wait to taste. Silently, you saunter over, small bottle of oil in hand, he knows how your skin tingles from the peppermint after applying, he can almost feel it warming his lips. He leans forward, palm instinctively outstretched for you to deposit a few drops of oil into his awaiting hand.  

You turn around and kneel on the floor, his hands start at your shoulders lightly rubbing across your skin, tracing the path of your spine. He’s hesitant to put too much pressure, always afraid to deface the gorgeous individual you are, neglecting the fact that this always leads to you heedlessly asking him for more. The oil smooths his movements, your head bobs back and forth melting into his touch. There’s no type of divinity he’d ever worship in the apocalypse, but he surely finds devotion with you and the symphony of quiet moans that leave your lips. 

“Feels good,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

He takes a deep breath letting his lungs deflate a long exhale, your gratitude unlocking another long buried sense of ease. Manners are lost in this world, you’re such a rarity. 

He doesn’t count himself as a lucky man, but when you turn around and nuzzle your clean face against his soot and dirt covered jeans he just might feel like he’s won the lottery. You plant a kiss against his bulge before pulling yourself up to straddle his lap. Joel’s hands subconsciously station themselves against your back, fingers lightly digging into your damp skin. Suddenly his back no longer ails him. 

“When’s the last time you bathed Joel?” You’re still warm from your shower, you cover him like a velvet blanket. 

“This morning,” he croaks out, overwhelmed by the sensation of you.   

“Mm. Did you think of me while in it? I know you have a habit of doing that.”

He nods, your eyes pooling with desire at the confession. 

His denim shirt feels constrictive, your bare skin is too tantalizing, he fidgets underneath, restless from the sensation of his heavy clothes. 

No need for that, rattles through his lust-addled brain. Your hands begin deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He loves the way your mouth drops and your head shakes incredulously whenever you get the first glimpse of his bronze skin. He loves that he’s been with you enough to know exactly how you’ll react to him. 

His shirt lands atop the towel.

“Perfect aim,” you smile.

Joel chuckles. You’re the only being on this earth that can make him laugh. 

You lean forward, placing your ear against his heart, he takes the longest, deepest breath getting lost in the moment, forgetting how much he likes to think he can fight this feeling. He can smell your yarrow shampoo mixed with the peppermint, this world literally stinks, and yet here you are fragrant and pleasing. 

Your hand brushes back and forth against a patch of chest hair, the other dragging up and down his arm. He loves when you pet him, nothing calms him more. He still can’t come up with an exact reason why he refuses to let himself have you when you’re the only thing he longs for. You’re torturing him right now, he wishes you were clueless about the power you hold over him. 

He places a kiss on your hair, breathing in your scent, he just can’t help himself.

“Wish I had wallpaper this pretty in my apartment,” you muse. 

“No need for the wallpaper, you’re pretty enough,” it escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Oh really?” Pulling back and sitting tall atop his lap, your eyebrow arches. “You think I’m prettier than faded old lady wallpaper?”

God damnit, your mouth is too goddamn smart. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do. You’re pretty too.” 

He wants to kiss that godforsaken smug smile off your lips. 

No need for that, crowds his mind, much like your lips do now against his. His mouth opens to accept your tongue. He groans against your mouth when you yank his hair, pulling his head back so you can lick into his mouth. He chases your mouth, sucking your lower lip between his plush lips. Your cunt finds the tent in his jeans and begins rocking against it. Your kiss turns sloppier, tongues rolling against each other, hot breaths intermingling. Your lips move down to nibble his chin, licking your way down to his neck. He growls your name when you clamp down and suck the tanned skin into your mouth. 

He needs to feel you against all of his skin. 

He’s never hated his belt more than right now as he clumsily unbuckles it between your writhing hips. 

“Christ,” he barks, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, you give him a temporary reprieve from your grinding as he raises his hips and yanks his pants down. 

He gathers you into his arms and leans forward, swiping the old books and magazines off the coffee table top laying you across it. 

He kicks out of his jeans, his knees protest as he sinks to his knees in front of you splayed across the oak. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head and flutter shut at the first taste of you. Tangy, sweet, all woman, all his, for as long as he thinks he deserves. 

Sweet, sweet girl.

Your coos and purrs dance through his ears twisting their way into his heart. He licks a stripe up your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit and flattening against it. Your hands climb all over his hair, grasping and pulling, he loves when you take what you want from him. Forcing him to hand himself over to you, body, mind, soul, heart. Whether that be a shower or his tongue against your pussy.

He could stay here forever, the rest of his body still as a statue, just his mouth allowed to move against your sweet cunt, fucking you with his tongue, massaging your clit with his lips. 

Your hips thrash against his face, legs wrapping around his head, pushing him even farther into your searing pussy. 

He can feel you begin to dissolve into him, your thighs trembling against his ears, the pressure of your legs wrapped around him increasing. He’s encircled by all of your beauty, your slick pours into his mouth as your orgasm explodes into him. He drinks down everything you give him, never able to be greedy outside of his time spent with you writhing and naked under his touch. You unlock your legs, your body still quaking from your climax. 

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

His cock stands weeping between his legs, he gathers the precum and spreads it across his tip before pumping himself watching your eyes hungrily focus on him. 

You spread your legs farther open with an unspoken invitation for him to take your pussy for his keeping. He accepts it, his wide cock slowly engulfing in your wet heat. 

You gasp and smile at the sensation, he feels his walls crumble.  

God damnit, there’s that damn smile again.

He loves how you take him, drawing your hips against his, the two of you tangled in hedonistic harmony here in this hellhole of a quarantine zone. You’re the only reason he stays. 

He’ll never allow himself to say it, he fights like hell to not feel it, yet another battle he’s going to lose. 

He bends forward, your head pinned between his forearms, he sucks at your lips, you can taste yourself all over his mustache. His cock slides in and out, pace turning more punishing the louder you cry out. Neighbors be damned, you’re the only one he likes, at least they’ll know you’re his. 

His weight presses against you and the rickety coffee table, both shaking as he pummels into your pussy. A crack emits from the leg he’s been meaning to fix, the decrepit coffee table disintegrates underneath all of his power. He’d laugh at his luck if he wasn’t so fucking turned on by you. Joel gathers you in his arms, throwing himself back against the couch, his cock never leaving the heat of your entrance. You sink fully down on him, his cock hitting the gooey spot inside of you that makes you liquefy. 

Sweat drips down his face, he’s so fucking tired already knowing his body will protest everything he’s put it through, but you’re worth it, the strangled noises you’re panting out will soothe his sore muscles come tomorrow. 

He nips at your jaw, licking the sheen of sweat on your skin and tasting the prickling peppermint. His nails rake against your back, you’re so fucking smooth, the harder you ride him, the deeper his nails press into your skin. 

Your body grows tense above him, his lips crush against yours wanting to gulp down all of your screams. You’re shattered by him again, his cock feels like the only thing tethering you down to this earth. He’s close, so fucking close. His orgasm has been waiting for you to pulse around his cock, your softness squeezing his last bit of resolve. 

Joel pulls out, immediately bemoaning the cruelty of not being able to cum inside you. One, two, three, pumps and he’s cumming against your stomach, your head angling down, wide eyes watching as the white ropes drip down your skin. 

Your ear finds his heart again, Joel knows it’s racing and you can hear it. He kisses your hair, humming a satisfied groan. Little does he know this is your favorite part of your shower visits, knowing that for just a short period of time you’ve made him happy. 

“I guess you’re going to need a new table.”

“I’ll be able to fix it, used to be a contractor.”

He surprises himself at the divulgence, reminding him to keep you at arms length, you’re too good for him. 

No need for that.

[afterglowsainz]

oscar piastri & 3 🧡

did i fall out of line when i called you? | oscar piastri

song; mess it up - gracie abrams

part of the spotify wrapped special

Every time Oscar got too close, he messed it up.

But it was okay; you forgave him because he was Oscar. Oscar, who had commitment issues. Oscar, who was trying hard to have a lasting relationship with you. Oscar, who loved you deeply. But you also knew he was Oscar, who couldn’t have something good without ruining it.

The day he asked you to be his girlfriend, and you said yes, he went to a club to celebrate and ended up fighting a man who had simply asked you where the bathroom was, thinking the man was flirting with you. He ended the night with a split eyebrow and a broken nose.

The day he was supposed to meet your parents, he got so nervous that he drank too much whiskey and fell asleep, missing lunch with your parents and disappointing you in the process.

The first time you went to watch one of his races in person, anxiety got the best of him, and he didn’t pick you up on the way to the airport, using the excuse that he “forgot.” You knew he hadn’t forgotten—he had simply chickened out and was too coward to admit the truth.

Still, you forgave him every time.

It was just a few hours were left until an event McLaren was hosting with one of its sponsors, and Oscar had begged you to accompany him. It didn’t take much convincing for you to agree. But something felt off; something didn’t feel right.

When Oscar suddenly stopped replying to your messages, you got worried. Early in the relationship, it happened more often—he wasn’t used to having a girlfriend, so he wasn’t used to replying to messages. It was one of the many conversations where you had to remind him that you didn’t care if he didn’t reply instantly; you knew he was a busy man. But he couldn’t go four days without responding and then show up as if nothing had happened. After that talk, his communication improved.

With less than thirty minutes left before your boyfriend was supposed to pick you up for the event, and no sign of him, you knew—without him even saying it—that he had once again changed his mind about taking you, and you wouldn’t be attending the event that night. You looked at your reflection in the mirror: the beautiful long white dress you had bought specifically for the occasion and the elegant silver jewelry adorning your neck—all for nothing.

When it became obvious Oscar wasn’t coming, you took everything off, put on your pajamas, crawled under the covers, and turned on your computer to watch a movie. At some point during the night, you checked Instagram and came across the worst thing you could’ve seen. A video of your boyfriend at the event’s afterparty, dancing with a girl who was definitely not you.

Technically, he wasn’t doing anything wrong—he hadn’t kissed her or slept with her. But the feeling of betrayal consumed you entirely and settled deep inside.

It was over.

Months had passed since the breakup, and Oscar couldn’t stop thinking about you.

You were his favorite thought whenever he didn’t have to use his brain power—while waiting in line for coffee, while driving from home to the MTC, when turning off the lights and trying to sleep. He thought about you and how much he missed you.

He knew there were many things you had forgiven him for that you didn’t have to. And he also knew that the one thing you hadn’t forgiven him for was what he regretted the most. Nothing had happened with the girl in the video—they’d only danced a couple of songs. But afterward, he felt dirty and missed you.

When he arrived at your place, he was shocked to see you crying and then shocked at how quickly your tears turned into angry shouts. You ended things, throwing him out of your apartment.

But tonight, he couldn’t sleep. He wanted to hear your voice and see you. He knew if he showed up at your place, you wouldn’t open the door. So, he settled for the second-best thing and called you.

Did he cross the line? Was it too soon? He knew the answer was yes when you didn’t answer his call. And when he called again, it went straight to voicemail.

The third-best thing, then.

Oscar opened your chat, the one he had neglected far too often but now couldn’t stop staring at, remembering the goodnight messages you used to send him and the ones wishing him luck in his races.

“I know I wasn’t a good boyfriend at all, and I know I don’t deserve you in any way, but I miss you. You made me a better person and a better man. I know every time something good happened between us, I managed to ruin it one way or another, and I’m truly sorry. But I also feel like if you let me back in, we can make it better. I can do better. I’ve improved my habits, and I’ve pulled myself back together. I’m so sorry for all the times I hurt you. I want to show you I’m not the same person as before. Please, give me one more chance.

I love you.”

Send.

[seijorhi]

the idea of oikawa not being ready when he meets his soulmate.

it isn't that he thinks you're not good enough, not pretty enough, not right for him, it's just that oikawa wasn't expecting to find you so soon.

soulmates are forever, you'll be there waiting for him when all's said and done, but his career in volleyball – it won't be. he's young, fit and hungry for it; in his absolute prime, but if he doesn't put in the effort now, give it everything, 100% of what he has... it'll slip right through his fingers.

he can't risk that.

there's a strange sort of desperation that tugs at his chest when he tries to explain, to get you to understand it. it's a sacrifice you'll both be making for the sake of the career he's dreamed of his whole life.

the way your smile slowly slips away when you realise he's not asking for you to be patient and give him grace when his focus is more on volleyball than you, he's saying he can't have you around at all, because you will distract him.

he'd lose himself in you.

it's not forever, he stresses, only a little while. you're perfect, and in a year or two when he's more settled in his role, the starting setter on the right team, heading to the championships, he'll be there to give you everything you deserve. no – more. he'll make it up to you, all he's asking for (but he's not really asking, is he) is a bit of time and space.

the light dims in your eyes, a strange, glassy look taking over, and slowly, so fucking slowly, you pull your hands from his, let them fall weakly to your side. it takes a monumental effort to not snatch them back up.

'yeah, okay.'

the expression on your face is all wrong, your voice almost robotic, but oikawa knows it's the right thing. you'll forgive him, because that's what soulmates do. you'll forgive him and then fall even more in love with him and oikawa will spend every damn day showering you in the love and affection he can. he'll drown you in it.

just give him this. let him give everything to volleyball, before he shares himself with you.

—

you're a little too good at it.

it's harder than he expected, going no contact. he was the one who wanted it – needed it, really, for this to work – but there'd been a small part of him that sort of hoped you'd ignore what he wanted and reach out anyway. he'd imagined sneaking a quick peek at his phone during a water break to see a message from you, something simple, casual, a 'hope things are good!' or 'i caught some of the game last week'. was it unfair of him to want you keeping track of him? to see how far he'd come in the days, weeks, months since he'd asked for time?

it's like an itch under his skin, and it grows. a few of his new teammates have met their soulmates, carry the marks to show for it. they're all smug as fuck about it, but the thing is whenever their soulmates are watching from the stands, they play with a different kind of fire. they're better. envy burns watching them celebrate afterwards, all hungry kisses and smiles too fucking big.

he knows you'd be there too if you could. you'd be there every damn game, all of their practices too, cheering him on. his biggest fan.

it's an ache. he goes home to an empty apartment, better than the one he had when he met you, in a nicer part of town, but no less lifeless. there's no one to welcome him home, to wrap him up in a hug, kiss him how he likes and soothe away the days stresses. no one to warm his bed, no other pussy'll ever be as tempting as yours.

i miss you.

i'm thinking of you.

would it kill you to break his rules and reach out every now and then? to give him some kind of sign that this distance was driving you half as crazy as it was him?

are you trying to punish him?

it occurs to him that you probably don't have his phone number. it shouldn't have stopped you, because it wouldn't've stopped him.

—

the first time he tries to follow your instagram you block his account.

it's irritating, until he remembers that you're probably trying to abide by his rules. he can't exactly get mad at you for that, tries not to, and instead does what any sane man missing his soulmate would do; creates a fake account, steals a picture from one of his sister's friends and uses that as his profile pic – even goes so far as to follow a bunch of your friends’ accounts too, just so it doesn't look suspicious or weird when he follows you too.

and for a little while, it's enough. he can see what you're up to, who you're hanging out with, where you're going. he'll watch all your stories, your friends’ stories, just for a few seconds of you.

(maybe strokes his cock to a few of them, cums in his sheets gasping your name.)

you're being patient, he's being good, it's only for a few more months, he can last a little longer–

there's a new post on your insta, a snap of you and some asshole with his arm wrapped around your waist, your lips pressed to his cheek.

'Happy six months, love you a little more every day!'

[babyleostuff]

first thing they do with their s/o once they come back from tour | ot13

❥ seungcheol 

cuddles, cuddles, cuddles. come on, after such a long time away from you, cheol needs to catch up on all of the cuddles, hugs, and kisses he had missed. he’d set aside all of his luggage and throw himself at you, trapping you in your bed for the next couple of hours. he wouldn't leave your side even for a second, you’d have to deal with an extra clingy coups (as if he could get any clingier) for the next week. his arm would be wrapped around you at all times, and he’d throw a tantrum if you were apart for more than two minutes. 

❥ jeonghan 

nap time!!! as much as he’d love to talk to you, ask you what you did while he was gone and how you were feeling in general - jeonghan would be too tired to understand what you would be saying. so, the first thing he would do is pull you towards the bed or the couch and fall asleep cuddled in your arms. this would also be his way of finally getting some skinship from you, because as we all know, jeonghan is a little cuddle bug who loves your touch. 

❥ joshua 

even if he’d land in the middle of the night or early in the morning, shua would take you out for a walk. you’d take a stroll around the neighbourhood, holding hands and bumping your hips from time to time, basking in the silence of the city. you’d talk about everything - even the smallest and unimportant things. after spending so much time apart, joshua wouldn’t care what you’d talk about, the most important thing for him was finally being able to hear your voice in person. 

❥ jun 

jun would be a mix of the boys - he’d take you out on a nice stroll around the neighbourhood, order your favourite food and watch a movie, show you the souvenirs he bought, give you all of the gifts he got you - he wouldn’t be able to settle on one single thing, he’d like to make his first day back as exciting as he could. at the end of the day though, as long as he was with you he was happy. 

❥ hoshi 

he would come up with the craziest activities known to mankind. you think he cannot get any more insane? wrong. he’d keep a list of things he'd want to do with you when he comes back from tour, and it doesn’t matter how tired he’d be from the trip - he’d throw his bags away and drag you to a laser tag, a zip line, or to the zoo for a private tiger feeding. the fact that he’d get to spend time with you would fill him with so much energy, hoshi would be vibrating from the excitement.    

❥ wonwoo 

he’d show you all of the photos he took on his trip, but not without some encouragement first. you know how passionate wonwoo is about photography and how much he likes to talk about it, especially if he was the one taking the pictures. sometimes, though, the insecurity of being clingy and overbearing would get the best of him, and you’d immediately notice how his eyes would turn from the camera to the computer - a clear sign that he wanted to share the photos he took with you. after dragging him to the sofa, placing his laptop on his lap and the camera next to him, you’d make him show you everything and explain every photo in detail. 

❥ woozi 

woozi would take you out on a nice meal - nothing too big or formal, he wouldn’t try to make a big deal out of it. he’d either book a table at one of your favourite restaurants or just let you pick one random one while you’d be walking around the town. quiet and intimate moments like these are extremely important to woozi, especially after such a long time apart, and even if he wouldn’t tell you outright how much he had missed you, you would definitely see it in his eyes, and how attentive he would be with you. 

❥ dk 

the first thing he’d do with you after coming back from tour is asking you what you wanted to do. no matter how tired or sleepy he’d be from the flight, he’d do anything you’d ask him too. of course you’d never make him do anything tiring after such a long trip - you’d usually settle for ordering some takeout and watching a movie cuddled on the couch (90% of the time he ends up falling asleep with his head on your chest), or if he had a bit more energy you’d go out for a nice walk, holding hands the whole time. 

❥ mingyu 

would either pull a seungcheol and trap you in bed for the next few days, sticking to you like a little koala and following your every step, his head buried in the crook of your neck or resting on your shoulder, or he would take you out on the town as if he hadn't just come back from a few weeks of schedules. one thing is certain, he wouldn't leave your side and would kiss you whenever he could. quality time and physical touch are so important for gyu and depending on how much energy he’d have left, you’d either be buried under the covers in bed or walking around the city. 

❥ minghao 

in a minghao fashion, you’d spend your evening very quietly, and it’d be filled with a lot of comfortable silence. he’d like to rest a bit after the trip and his schedules, but still spend some time with you - as much as he’s not the biggest on physical touch and affection, he’d be glued to your side for the whole evening and then night. you’d cuddle under a blanket on the couch, and minghao would have his head on your chest, or in the crook of your neck, and listen to all of your stories that happened when he was away. 

❥ seungkwan 

gossip time. you’d order your favourite take out, make your couch all comfy, cuddle under one blanket and gossip through the whole night. seungkwan would pull out an entire list he prepared while he was gone so he wouldn't forget to tell you about all of the most important, funniest and weirdest things that happened while he was away. despite being tired, neither of you would be in a hurry to go to sleep, because after all, there is nothing better than gossiping with your boyfriend while drinking a glass of wine and eating your favourite food. 

❥ vernon 

you would probably insist on him going to sleep so he could rest, but vernon would just shake his head and drag you to the couch, and turn on your favourite movie that you've probably watched a thousand times together. he wouldn't say much, but for vernon, the fact that he could finally be with you, even if neither of you said anything - it’d mean so much to him. after some time, he’d put his head on your lap and you wouldn't even know when he’d fall asleep.

❥ chan 

another one that would probably stay at home, and spend some quality time with you cuddled under a blanket. he sees himself as a very independent person that would rather do something for you than vice versa, but after such a long time apart he longs for you to take care of him. he’d nuzzle his head into your neck and put your hand on his head for you to drag your fingers through his hair, and he’d tell you all about his trip, while he’d slowly but surely start falling asleep. 

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[wandaslovey]

alriiiight so i’ve been gaslighting myself into thinking im not sick but i HAVE to bite the bullet now… im sick >:(

anyways

while i was showering, i had a wanda thought within my wandanat (vii) series about reader being sick….

——————————

you wake up in the morning, groaning. your body feels like it weighs a ton, as if stacks of blocks have been neatly stacked across your limbs and down your back as you lay on your tummy.

natasha pops her head in the room from the bathroom as she’s getting ready, your noise of discontent drawing her attention.

“everything okay, detka?” she dries her hands on the hand towel hanging on the wall, padding over to the bed and running a hand across your forehead. she immediately notices you feel warm and there’s a slight pink tinge coloring your cheeks and nose.

you grown in response, still unwilling to peel your eyes open to greet the day.

“wanda, idite syuda.” she calls over her shoulder for her wife. wanda appears only seconds later, leaning over your body next to her wife as she also takes a turn feeling your warm face.

“feeling a little under the weather, sweetheart?” her voice is almost a gentle coo, her hand smoothing over your hair as she sits on the little piece of mattress sticking out from underneath your body.

you nod your head, a delicate whimper sounding in the back of your throat.

you hear a glass being set on the nightstand next to your head and you peek your eyes open to see natasha had retrieved you a cold glass of water. you didn’t even know she left your side.

“sit up, dragotsennaya devochka. drink some water.” natasha helps you sit up on the bed, propping some pillows behind your back so you can lean against them. she brings the glass to your lips, holding it for you as you tilt your head back and drink some of the water.

wanda gently squeezes your arm, scooting closer to you as she brushes some hair behind your shoulder. “do you want one of us to stay home with you?” she asks.

you immediately shake your head, not wanting to be the cause of one of them missing an important meeting or something.

they both double check that you’re okay with them leaving, kissing your forehead and promising to be back later and make your favorite soup for dinner.

you smile lazily at them, slithering back under the covers as you intend to go back to sleep.

***

it feels like only seconds have passed when your eyes open again. you blink confused, unsure of the cause of what awakened you. the first thing you notice is that your legs are spread apart, a slight ache in your hips from how wide they were spread. it was only 3 seconds later that you register a wet, hot tongue sliding in between your folds.

you look down, a little disoriented as you prop your upper body on your elbows. you see a half-shapeless figure under the comforter, small humming noises sounding from between your legs as you blearily blink your eyes.

“m-mommy?” you whimper, your voice cracking from the lack of use.

“hi, milaya.” she murmurs, her tongue still busy licking your sensitive little pussy.

“wh-what are you doing? what time is it?” you ask, pushing the covers down away from wanda’s head, revealing her pretty face between your thighs.

“shhhh, baby. mommy just came home early to check on her little girl. go back to sleep now, okay?”

you whine at her words, the dull ache in your lower belly growing by the second. when you don’t settle down for her, she gives you clit a soft kiss, her lips placing more gentle kisses up your tummy until she reaches your face. she cradles the sides of your head in her hands, her thumbs stroking your cheeks.

you look up at her with all the trust in the world—your eyes wide and soft as she smiles lovingly at your expression.

“close your eyes, detka.” she admonishes gently, her finger running from your forehead down your nose—something she does to help you fall asleep.

you comply after only a seconds hesitation, your eyes drifting closed as she kisses slowly back down your body. she lingers at your tummy, giving you several there until she feels your body fully relax again.

when you sigh sleepily, she takes that as her cue to continue what she had started. she slithers back down between your legs, her tongue gently parting your lips. you jump slightly, a whine sounding through the room. she shushes you, running her soft hands up and down your thighs as she continues eating you out.

you eventually fall asleep again, her tongue still buried inside of you. you had no idea this was a fantasy of hers—bringing you several lazy orgasms from your pretty body while you slept. but she did and now you knew.

[eightballing]

Friends, Just Friends

Warnings- none

Word count- 744

Jason Todd x GN! Reader

Jason has issues, that’s never been a secret.

So why is everything so easy with you?

He met you because he ran into you. Literally. He was in a cafe when he spotted Dick, and he didn’t feel like talking, so he booked it out of there. In his defense, he wasn’t looking where he was going. He really should’ve been looking. He was out the door faster than Wally. That’s when he ran into you, almost knocking you onto the pavement. Well, he would have if he didn’t grab your hand just in time. “…sorry.” He mutters, looking away. He's really embarrassed. you wouldn’t have known if you didn’t see the flush of his cheeks. “It's okay, you didn’t see me.” you smile, trying to be kind to the poor stranger. “I'm y/n.” You hold out your hand, a bit sheepishly. He's really tall. and big. and well… everything in between. He's very aware of that fact, and he slouches regularly to make himself seem less intimidating as Jason Todd. As Red Hood? Oh, he’s definitely standing at his full height. He shakes your hand, and you two have a conversation that ends in exchanging numbers. You become friends from then on.

Friends. That’s what he has to tell himself when you patch him up, not even upset that he woke you. That’s what he has to tell himself when he throws a blanket over you when you fall asleep. You just make it so easy.

Friends. That's what he has to tell himself when he catches you looking at him a little too long, or when he catches himself grasping your hand in a crowded area. He doesn’t like crowds. Too many people, he can’t watch over them all. He can’t protect you if they all come at him, even though he knows that would never happen. “You never know” is always in the back of his mind.

One night, he gets bored. He doesn’t want to invite anyone over, but then decides that he hasn’t talked to anyone in a while. He tries to see if Roy can hang out, trying to avoid the drama of you and that whole… thing, but Roy is busy. He sighs and calls you anyway. Obviously, you show up at his apartment, grinning and ready for a movie night. That’s normal, Jason tries to tell himself, they’re always cheerful. But he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful your smile is. The rest of the night goes pretty smoothly, you two watching dumb movies and laughing with each other through them. Of course that’s when you put your stupid head on his stupid shoulder. He’s freaking the fuck out. Do they like me back? He wonders, then quickly chides himself for acting like a fifth grader. This isn’t some kid crush. Still, he’s not used to this. He hasn’t had much physical affection, only settling for occasional one night stand that results in leaving before they wake up and not caring if they’re hurt by that. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want a relationship to everyone that knows him. He doesn’t want to hurt anybody, as Red Hood or even as plain Jason. But… he won’t deny that he’s the longing type. He doesn’t just want you, he longs for you. He craves you. So, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and praying to whatever deity that’s out there that you won’t flip out. You don’t. You just scoot a bit closer, acting like everything’s normal. How can you be so calm about this? Jason turns his head to look at you, and you meet his gaze. He stares into your stunning eyes, that always makes him soften. Always. “What?” you mumble softly, smiling a little. He swallows. You look gorgeous in this light. When did he become such a sap? Without thinking, he cups your face in his hands gently. He just smiles when you lean into his touch, his cute dimples showing. Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now. He thinks and lets out a shaky breath. It’s now or never. “Can I… would you be mad if I kissed you right now?” He whispers, his hands practically shaking with anxiety. He starts to worry that he’s overstepped when you speak. “I wouldn’t be mad at all, Jay. Go ahead” You whisper. Yes. They said yes. He immediately kisses you, making sure to go slow. It’s not too rough, but its not shy either. It’s perfect. This must be what heaven feels like. He pulls back after a few seconds. “I know I might be doing this out of order, but can I take you out?” He says with the dumb grin that you’ve loved since you’ve met him.

Fin

Authors note:

I know that was short (I wrote it in like, an hour 😭) but I hope you liked it! That was my first ever fic, and I can’t wait to write more in the future! Thanks for reading!

[jazz-writer]

Bad nights (part two)

A/N: hi everyone!! Bad night was the first ever fix I posted and I am very glad everyone liked it so much!! I wasn’t expecting more than 20 likes? But this is crazy and I am overjoyed! This took me a lil while since I started working on this request I got which is a very interesting idea, but thank you sm <333

p.s: I reread this 3 times and used grammars for spelling mistakes if there are still any, do tell me!

Summary: Remus got clingy cuz of the full moon, James lost a match, Sirius has problems with his parents and you aren’t well. How Will this situation turn out?

Read bad nights part one, here

The tension in the room only deepened after Remus pulled back, He was always the calm one, the one who understood the unspoken language of their relations, but today, with every emotion piling up, even he was slipping.

You could feel the heat from his body as he stepped away from you, the silence hanging in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Your stomach churned in response, both from the physical ache and the emotional weight of everything around you.

James finally broke the silence, though his voice was very much with frustration. "I get it, Sirius," he said, barely holding back the anger in his tone. "You’re upset, and I’m upset, but don’t act like you have it all figured out." His hand clenched into a fist by his side. "This—this whole thing—it’s not just about losing a match, alright? It’s about everything. Every bloody thing that's been piling up lately." He paused, glancing at you as though the weight of his next words was too much to carry alone. "It’s about her. About how she’s always there for all of you, and… I can’t even seem to be enough for her."

Your heart squeezed at his words, but before you could say anything, Sirius snapped. "Enough? Enough? What about me, huh?" His voice cracked an that made your chest tighten. "I’ve been fighting off my mother’s poison for years, I’m constantly keeping my own demons at bay, and I’m the one who gets left behind! She’s always there for you, James, and for you, Remus. Always comforting you, holding you up, and I’m just… just here, trying to keep my head above water." His face was twisted in anguish, eyes wild. "And all I get is the scraps—the leftovers."

"That’s not fair!" Remus’s voice was raw, , "You think I want to cling to her like this? You think I’m not aware of everything she does for me? But I need her, Sirius. I’m barely holding it together after last night—" His voice wavered, and you saw the raw hurt in his eyes as he turned to you for comfort once more, even as he fought back his own tears. "I’m not asking for more than what she can give. I’m just asking for her to be there when I can’t be there for myself."

Sirius's glare softened for a split second before he snapped again, his frustration morphing into something darker. "Yeah, well, we all need her, don’t we?" he spat. "But it’s always you, Remus. It’s always you who gets the comfort, who gets the attention. And I’m just supposed to wait in the damn hard moments , pretending I’m fine when I’m falling apart inside." He was pacing now, his voice rising with every step. "I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when she’s the one holding everyone else together."

The words hit harder than anything you could have prepared for, and it was like a pressure released in the room. You knew he didn’t mean it like that. You knew he wasn’t blaming you specifically, but the weight of it settled over you like a suffocating wall. You wanted to shout at him, to tell him that you weren’t some object to be fought over, that you couldn’t be everything to everyone, but the words wouldn’t come.

"You think I’m okay?" James's voice cut through, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and hurt. "I’m the bloody Quidditch captain! I’m supposed to lead everyone, make everything perfect, and now I can’t even—" He stopped, voice cracking, fists clenched at his sides, looking away from both of you as if his words were too much to handle. "I’m so sick of failing."

s. That broken crack in James that you had never seen before. You wanted to walk over, to hold him, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but as soon as you moved, Remus took a step toward you, his eyes pleading, like he was afraid to lose you in all this madness. and Sirius’s hurt eyes, his unspoken plea, were just as raw.

But your body was betraying you. The nausea was getting worse, and the headache was growing more unbearable. You couldn’t hold on any longer.

“Stop,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady as you stood between them, your hand resting on your stomach. "Stop. All of you. I… I can't do this anymore."

The room went silent, and for a moment, everything stopped.

You felt tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, but you held them back. "I’m trying so hard for all of you. I can’t be everything. I can’t be the one you all lean on all the time." Your voice was shaky, but you pushed through it. "I… I’m struggling too. Do you not see that? I’mtrying, I’m hurting, and no one’s even asking if I’m okay. All I do is try to hold everyone else together, and no one sees it until I’m falling apart. I just… I need… I need a break."

You didn’t give them time to respond, didn’t let them apologize or tell you it was fine. You turned on your heel and walked away

But in the quiet, as the seconds passed, you realized something. You weren’t the only one struggling,It was time for them to see that.

And you weren’t sure if that would make them love you less, or more.

Read the next part here!!

alright so I think part three will be out more soon and will be the final part!!!!

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