#lavender haze au

[lesbesapphic]

Lavender Haze

A Roommate WandaNat x Reader au

Summary- You were in your freshmen year when Wanda and Natasha took an interest in you. Now in your junior year, you are their roommate but things aren't as simple as they seem.

Behind closed door, you become their plaything. Sometimes it works in your favor and sometimes it doesn't. Only time can tell if you will survive this toxic arrangement or not?

Warning - choking, humiliation, slapping,  reader in trouble, wandanat are toxic as hell, they love reader in their own way but not much, dom/sub undertone etc

Please don't flag my post. I have added ratings!

A/N-- Hello Everyone!

I hope you all are doing great! I am really excited for you all to read this and hopefully you all will love it as much as I loved writing it.

Feel free to send me ideas and your thoughts about this!

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-----

You were sleeping peacefully in your bed, one leg draped over the big panda stuff toy you got yourself last summer. Wanda and Natasha had mocked you for it but you didn't care, the purpose of the toy was very clear, being squeezed to death. Every night when you had it in a suffocating grip or one leg draped over it as you drift to sleep, you would mentally flip a bird off to the couple with whom you shared this three bedroom duplex apartment.

"What the.." You panicked when you were lifted off from the bed and in the air, flaying your arms, you tried to find the ground, your toes brushing against it slightly. Before you could make much out of it, you were dragged outside and toward the kitchen, you knew it was Natasha and the glimpse of her red hair confirmed it. She had quite a habit of manhandling her way around you. They both do but Natasha was more efficient at it.

Your sleepy eyes caught the other half of the couple sitting on the kitchen stool, her fingers tapping against the screen of her phone. Natasha dropped you on the floor, not too gently. "Ow.. fuck yo-" Before you could even finish the sentence, the back of Wanda's hand collided with your cheek. Instantly tears welled up in your eyes, the sleep long gone.

"2." Wanda simply reminded you of the number of chances you have left before you get in serious trouble and you ignored the uneasy feeling that creeped up your stomach at the thought. Her weird rules about unnecessary swearing somehow only seemed to apply on you but not her own girlfriend who had a mouth of a sailor when she would be in her zone. Sometimes you wondered was it because of her frustration of not getting her way around Natasha that made her double down on you.

You ignored the strawberry blonde in front of you and took in the smell of cocoa in the kitchen, "What is it? Ooh pancakes- Ouch, Natty Please." You whimpered in pain when fingers tangled in your hair, tugging on the roots, you hand instantly wrapped around Natasha's trying to ease the tugging but your strength was nothing compared to hers.

"I came to make breakfast for your ungrateful little ass and look what I found!" Natasha turned your head toward the sink and you whimpered more at the sight of the dishes from last night than at the burning in your scalp. Natasha had told you to do the dishes and you had snapped at her, promising to do it later but you never got the time as Wanda had grabbed you to watch a movie, falling asleep there in her arm as she would massage your scalp. You wanted to blame Wanda but knowing that it would not only earn you a good smacking from Natasha but Wanda too.

"I am sorry. I will do it now." You pleaded hoping she would let go off your hair now but the woman hardly paid a heed to her grip, instead decided to reward you with a condescending look as she stared you down, "You lack too much of the cognitive ability to remember a simple task, Darling. I hardly doubt you have the motor coordination to perform it." Natasha mocked and Wanda snickered from behind you. You ignored the way your eyes started to tear up, hoping to hold it back before they could prey on it as well.

Natasha noticed the tears in your eyes and feigned a warm smile, slowly leaning in toward your ear, "For now, I will handle it and later you will pay me back by doing the only one thing you are good at." She pulled back and watched the look of embarrassment tinted with desire on your face, just as she expected. "A pretty little slut." Wanda chirped in and your face went a shade darker, you avoided Natasha's gaze when she chuckled at the remark made by her girlfriend.

"Go wash up and come eat breakfast." Natasha patted your cheek, gently urging you to listen and you nodded quickly, anything to get you away from the duo. You went to dash out of the kitchen but before you could make even three proper steps, a hand grabbed the collar of the hoodie you were wearing, pulling you almost over the counter, you almost choked on your own saliva, "Forgetting something?" Wanda asked, one of her sculpted eyebrows raised in question and you felt timid under her strong gaze before leaning in and placing a kiss on her cheek, earning a pleased smile from her that left you giddy. "Good. Now shoo." Wanda let go and you made your way out to the washroom.

You would always greet Wanda with a kiss on her cheek in the morning, it was sort of a part of your routine now and as well as Wanda's and God forbid if someone messes with her routine. It was a moment of affection that was not frowned upon by neither her girlfriend nor her. Never allowed to touch those lips though, you weren't complaining either. You were fine with how things were between the three of you.

You were in your first year when you met them in the orientation programme. They were your seniors and after hanging out a few times, they offered to share their place with you when they learned that you were looking for a place to rent. Except they refused to take the rent as the place was owned by Natasha. Every month, it would take a whole lot of begging just to get them to take your share of the rent. It was a nice place. You had your own room. Your own space that they rarely invaded. You didn't exactly recall when you became a part of their arrangement, but it happened after a few months of you moving in with them.

+------------+

You walked back into the kitchen, Natasha was working on her laptop in front of Wanda, while she talked to her about some upcoming event in her department. For a moment you stayed in the doorway, not sure if Natasha was still annoyed at you. Wanda patted the stool next to her when she noticed your presence and you instantly made your way over there, your eyes fixated on the plate of pancakes in front of you.

You let out a groan, the first bite melting in your mouth and you couldn't help but do your little dance at the sight of the three more pancake stacked in your plate, you couldn't wait to devour them all. From the corner of your eye, you could see Wanda looking at you but your focus remained on the cakes, "This is really good." You told Natasha, never failing to complement her cooking and she gave you a soft smile before replying to Wanda's question. They were talking about the upcoming fests in the college, being part of various clubs they had been pretty busy. You didn't care much about it and focused on your breakfast.

You were putting some orange juice in your glass while taking a bite of the pancake but the jug bumped into the glass, not expecting the jug to be heavy and you watched as the glass started wobbling a little before falling in your lap. "Oh shoot." You panicked at the dark spot forming on the white hoodie, your eyes widen in fear when you realised that it belonged to none other than Natasha. Wanda instantly took the jug from your hand before you could make any more of a mess. "Y/N!" Wanda grabbed some tissues trying to soak up the spilled juice and you stood there in fear and it was proven right when Natasha's hand grabbed you by your ear harshly, "Didn't I tell you that you can't eat in my clothes?" Natasha asked, her eyes flaring with aggrevation and you winced closing your eyes both at the pain and as well as her expression.

"I-I would have worn something else but you woke me-"

"Oh so now it is my fault?" She twisted your ear a little more while simultaneously pulling you up along and you stood on your tippy toes to avoid the pain. "Answer her, silly." Wanda's words broke the silence as she threw the dirty tissues on the slab. "I should have made her clean it with her tongue." Natasha twisted your ear one last time before letting go of it with a push.

Your hand instantly shot up to rub the pain away with tears once again welling up in your eyes, the morning kept getting worse for you,"That would have definitely work with her." Wanda agreed as she swatted her hand away from your ear, giving you a pointed look which turned into a sadistic one as she took notice of the teary eyed look on your face. Things would take such fast turns whenever you were with them. One moment it would be peaceful and the next they would be pouncing on you about something.

"Off." Natasha gave out her command and you slowly fiddled with the hem of the hoodie, knowing very well that she would not even allow you the privilege of going to your room and changing. "Now." Wanda reinforced her order and your hands pushed the soft yet wet material off yourself, instantly goosebumps raising on your skin.

Natasha took the material from your hand, "You are not allowed to wear anything till Monday. You can stay like this only." She told you sternly and you opened your mouth to protest, "But I am sorry Natty, I really didn't mean to. I change out of it before breakfast everyday!" You whined at her declaration and gulped when the two of them raised one of their eyebrows at the same time.

They both sometimes subconsciously seem to mimic each other's action and you wanted anything but have the attention of the duo in a negative sense like that, any other day you would love to have them dotting on you.

"Don't you think your mouth is running a little too much today?" Wanda asked harshly, her hand grabbing your cheeks in a vice grip and you struggled to get out of her reach. "I-I am sorry!" You pleaded through your teary eyes and Wanda let go of your cheeks and moved onto your neck, "Apologise to her." She turned your head towards Natasha and you felt your cheeks reddened at the way you were getting treated. You didn't dare to complain about it, knowing that your ass was on line.

"I am sorry, Natasha..Please forgive me." You apologised hoping she would change her mind. She couldn't be serious about something like that but then again it wasn't the first time she had come up with something outrageous to punish you.

Natasha hummed in acknowledgement, you could tell she was still upset as she sighed, "Not until Monday. I don't want any whining from you. You don't deserve this privilege until you learn some etiquettes." She further added and you nodded quietly watching as she left the room to wash the clothing, leaving you alone with her strawberry blonde counterpart.

"It's you own fault." Wanda drawled after observing you from her position on the stool for a while and you wanted to snap at her and let her know that you already know but decided otherwise knowing she would jump at the opportunity to punish you some more.

"I know." You muttered successfully holding back the sass from your statement and Wanda stared at you for a few second, trying to figure out if you were being sassy or genuine. Her eyes ran down your body, deciding whether you were worthy enough for attention or not.

"You will catch a cold if you keep wearing this." Wanda's finger hooked onto the strap of your bra pulling it a little before letting it snap on your shoulder, making you wince at the sharp sting causing a satisfactory smile on her lips.

"It's not wet." You pushed her hand away a little harsher than necessary and Wanda instantly took notice of the fact. "Huh." She let out a scoff, probably at your audacity and you watched in shock as she picked up the almost empty glass of your orange juice and tipped it down on your chest. "What the..Wanda.." You tried pulling away but her other hand held in your place, halting your movement, all you could do was squirm at the feeling of the liquid dripping down your chest, your nipples hardening by the cold temperature of the liquid.

"Is it wet enough for you?" She asked over her shoulder as she turn to place the glass away, not wanting to risk another damage perhaps. "Off." The familiar order hit you again and you took a sharp inhale, feeling a wave of arousal mixed with fear hitting your senses at her tone.

You got a moment to yourself when Natasha came back in the kitchen, her eyes falling to your wet chest a little confused but one glance at Wanda whose eyes were clouded with lust, her own expression turned into a familiar one. "Do we need to repeat everything today?" Wanda asked, using her sharp nails to turn your face toward her. "You are really getting on my nerves, Detka."

When you realised that your pleading would only fall to deaf ears, you reached back with your hands to slowly unclasp your bra, your bare chest presented to their hungry gaze. "Much better.. isn't?" Wanda asked and you looked up at her, the feeling of humiliation turning your your cheeks a bright shade of red.

"It is." Natasha answered while, her gaze fixated on your bare chest. You reached forward to cover your body but she grabbed your hands and pulled you closer, your upper half colliding with her covered body but you made sure to not stay touching with her not wanting to ruin any more of her clothes and face her wrath, although a part of you wanted to move closer to the warmth of her body.

You started into Natasha's eyes when you suddenly felt Wanda behind you, effectively trapping you between the duo. You felt much smaller next to them especially when you had literally no clothes on compared to them. "Let me go." You whispered softly but Natasha chose to ignore it as she leaned forward a bit, "Do you really want that?" She asked, her finger lightly tracing down your cheek to jaw which you immediately clenched when Wanda's hand cupped your breast, softly squeezing the flesh.

When Natasha started leaning in more, you closed your eyes thinking she was going to kiss you but it never occurred as she kissed Wanda whose head was next to you and you didn't understand the unfamiliar emotion that hit you. Of course she wasn't going to kiss you. They have never kissed you. Before you could ponder more on the thought, it vanished the moment Wanda pinched your nipple and you let out a whimper which was covered by Wanda's moan to Natasha's kiss.

Natasha's hand grabbed you by your hip to turn you around while she continued kissing Wanda, the sight had you mesmerized to even care about how they were again manhandling their way around you. Now you were looking up at Wanda who had her eyes closed as Natasha devoured her lips. You shuddered at the chill going up your spine. Natasha's hand started playing with your chest. "N-Nat.." You moaned softly only for it to become a whimper when she squeezed your hardened nub.

"Shh." Wanda pushed her finger on your lips, quietening you as Natasha moved to her neck. It made you feel small. Insignificant in their whole dynamic but once again you hardly had time to process the emotion as Natasha pushed Wanda back on the stool to sit. Her whole neck was covered with bite marks. Some of them were freshly made by Natasha while others were fading away,   You have never seen Wanda without them. Natasha had always been on the rougher side between the two of them. More territorial.

It reminded you of the time when you had accidentally in your lust bitten Wanda too hard, creating a similar mark which Natasha hadn't appreciated at all. All week Natasha had been so rough with you, Wanda had also notice that and took special care of you that week. It was perhaps the first time you had witnessed the softer side of Wanda, maybe that was the reason you had more of an inclination toward her than Natasha.

"Gorgeous.. isn't she?" Natasha whispered in your ear, one of her hand placed on your neck, her fingers holding your head in place to look at Wanda. Her other arm was wrapped around your waist, completely trapping you against her warm body.

You slowly nodded your head as much as her hold allowed it. Wanda's cheeks were flushed, she was staring into Natasha's eyes and you felt as if you were a mere spectator of the show rather than a part. "Why don't we put that tongue to a better use? Huh?" Natasha asked or more like stated and before you could even make up your mind, she pushed you down on your knees in front of Wanda, putting your hand on Wanda's shorts before moving her hands to her body.

You looked up at Wanda for permission and she raised her hips, letting you slide the material down her smooth thighs, you abandoned the clothing and ran your hand up her calves to her thigh that convulsed under the touch. Wanda instantly moved her hand into your hair, her grip tight, tugging on your roots. You started at her for a moment and the realisation of how stunning she was hit you again. She was an epitome of elegance despite of being in such provacating position, she still held the gracefulness of a Queen.

"Play nicely." Natasha whispered to her and her grip eased at little and you were glad for it, no way you could please her with her tight hold on you. She placed her foot on your shoulder and your eyes met her, you knew what she wanted and never the one to deny her , you started placing kisses up her calf muscles, slowly sucking the skin while making sure to not leave a single mark for Natasha to find out later, you moved upward, worshipping every inch of her just as she desired.

You finally came close to her wet center, the sight had you dripping in your own panties. You slowly started placing kisses on her inner thigh and around her pussy but never where she needed you the most. Wanda's nail dug into your scalp and you winced at the pain, you could feel Natasha's leg on your back as she went closer to Wanda effectively muffling her whine with her lips. You would have teased her a bit more but Natasha's hand forced your head in and the last thing you wanted was to piss her off some more.

You parted Wanda's thighs a bit more and licked your way up her folds and was rewarded with more of juice that gushed out of her, groaning in pleasure when you heard her let out a muffled moan of your name, you placed your lips on the bundle of nerves where she needed you and started toying with it. Your teeth lightly grazing it before sucking. Her thighs started convulsing and you moved two of your fingers to her entrance, slowly sliding them in, the wetness allowing you in with ease. You started moving you fingers while your tongue moved around clit, sucking and nibbling here and there just how you learned it from her girlfriend.

It wasn't long until Wanda had your head crushed between her thighs as you pushed her over the edge, while she used your face to ride out her orgasm pulling Natasha in for another kiss, wrapping her arms around the redhead's neck, she hardly cared about the pain when she bit her lip, it only seemed to enhance her high. "N-Natasha.." She gasped for air when her girlfriend pulled away.

You could finally breathe when Wanda let go of you, your cheeks and mouth was covered in her juices and you licked your lip, slowly tasting her, it made you thirsty for more before you could lean in again to satisfy your thirst, Natasha's hand curled around your hair pulling you back up on your feet. "Let me have a taste as well." You assumed that she would be going down on Wanda again but what she did was unexpected for you as well as Wanda who was staring at you.

Natasha pulled you up to her lips with her hand that was still in your hair and you instantly got on your toes to ease the pain, her tongue licking her way from your jaw to your mouth before finally placing her lips on yours. Your eyes widen and you let out a small gasp that was enough for Natasha to slide her tongue in, you hardly knew what was happening before she pulled away with a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"So heavenly." She turned to look at Wanda whose face was still flushed but held an emotion you couldn't separate from the lust on her face. "Why don't we take it back upstairs?" Wanda asked, her breathing and her both in control now. She glanced over at you, a predatory smile falling on her luscious lips at your still surprised look, clouded with arousal.

"I thought you wouldn't ask after the number she did on you." Natasha stared into your eyes while her hand that held your neck moved to your jaw, her thumb tracing your lips that were swollen from her biting before sliding it in your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it, your tongue playing around her thumb as she pushed it deeper. You allowed her. Anything to get back on her good list.

"Why don't you care more about what I am going to do with you than what she has done on me?" Wanda asked in a sultry tone as she gracefully got off the stool and out of her shorts, her tshirt coming down to her mid thighs covering her up. Natasha's thumb stopped pushing in and she let out a raspy laugh, turning slightly to look at Wanda.

"Oh really?"

"Really." Wanda traced her fingers up Natasha's arm. "We can just throw a vibe in her and see how long she can last.. while we talk 'business'?" Wanda suggested and you whimpered around the thumb in your mouth at the thought. Business. That was what they used to tell you when they would spend the whole day in their bedroom. That was before, when you weren't a part of their little game.

"Sounds perfect. Doesn't it Y/N/N?" They both chuckled when you shook your head at Natasha's question to you as if your opinion mattered to them. As if it has ever mattered to them. "How cute." Wanda removed Natasha's hand from your mouth and she slowly traced her fingers down your hair, pushing them forward, the hair strands touched your sensitive nipples.

"Do you think I have forgotten about the little tease you were being earlier?" She asked while a faux sweet smile remained on her lips and you gulped softly, shaking your head 'no' when she raised an eyebrow and she gave you a full smile, patting your cheek not so gently but each touch only seemed to fuel the fire within you. "Good-" She was about to say something when Natasha cut her off with a glint in her eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I have a better idea."

----

To be continued.

Hope you all loved it! I would love to hear your thoughts and will really appreciate it if you reblog and support me! <3

[newtonsheffield]

Lavender Haze Anthony gets such a kick out of Kate using their joint credit card though. You know he does.

Every time he sees she’s used it he gets such an intense surge of pride.

“I’ve provided for you. I’m a provider.”

Kate blinked at him, “It’s a pair of jeans.”

“Jeans that I’ve provided!”

Kate stared at him, “Daphne was right.”

“Words I never like hearing. What about though?”

“You actually like this don’t you? This is one of the ways you look after people, it’s a love language.”

Anthony nodded feeling a little awkward, “Well, I love you. I want you to be happy, I want you to be cared for.” He paused for a moment, “Also they give you these rewards points and I like to play a little game with them.”

Kate leaned forward, kissing him quickly, “Your sister knows you better than you want to admit.”

[fitrahgolden]

The latest chapter of Lavender Haze by @newtonsheffield sent me into a blind rage--in a good way. I worked through said rage with a mood board, of course.

(Also, I'm not saying we deserve a Viscount Daddy Porsche centric Spicy Sunday 🌶 because of what Molly did to us, but that's exactly what I'm saying.)

[starlitscars]

Older Remus Lupin | Fluff | Soulmate au

Words: 3.8k 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Theme song: Lavender Haze by Taylor Swift

Tw: Mention of death, war

-

"Meet me at midnight."

A random note, with an unhurried handwriting, appearing on the wall, out of nowhere.

The gesture could easily perplex someone.

It was a rare occurrence, but out of all the people, you should've known better. You should've guessed sooner. Remus Lupin always had a thing for quite unexpected events, especially when his actions left you speechless and in a surprised daze afterwards.

And now Remus had decided it was a brilliant idea to sneak a tiny paper into your room at number twelve Grimmauld Place, days after his disappearance. His plan was successful. Because despite the fact that you felt a wave of relief washing over you now that you knew he was alright, his short, unnoticed visit still robbed you of speech. There was no trace of him around the place and if Hermione hadn't dragged you downstairs, you'd probably have a chance to see him.

The long waiting was frustrating.

Speaking of Black's ancestral house, the sound of chattering and laughing was still loud in the air, reaching the high walls of the decrepit place. Days had passed since the downfall of darkest wizard of all time and the grimy atmosphere of Sirius Black's home was replaced with luminous parties that seemed to be in full swing all the time. From your arrival day until now, you had never seen Order's members this joyous and full of life. Back then, every moment was filled with constant alternation between worry, fear and death. But now it was all over and no whiff of darkness could invade the cheerfulness of your surroundings. Guests from all around the wizarding society would pay a visit everyday and some occasionally stayed longer to help clear the wreckage left from that murderous war. Ministry of magic mostly took care of bringing captured Death Eaters to trials and tracking the missing ones. Some other members, including you, tended to wipe any trail of destruction from Muggle places and erase their memories at the same time.

Bridges, buildings, stores. Death eaters hadn't left anything untouched on their way to Hogwarts. By now the castle was properly repaired and no sign of damage was left on its grounds, but the world of Muggles needed more work to be done. Though it was a long process, the distraction helped to slightly soothe your longing for Remus.

Inside the Grimmauld Place, you were surrounded with happiness. Fred and George were obviously the life of the party, playing pranks here and there and selling their creative products to the visitors. Sirius would crack a joke every once in a while and he never ceased to bring the whole family to hearty gales of laughter. Dobby and Kreacher were determined to serve cocktails, pastries and chocolates to everyone that stopped by the house of Blacks. It was heartwarming to see that everyone you cared for, was alive and there was no empty seat or heartbreaking sight. The Weasleys, Sirius, Hermione, Harry Potter and many more. Some of them had injuries, but they would heal. The past would eventually heal.

You were supposed to feel this happiness with every fiber of your being.

And yet in the back of your mind, it was hard to be joyful without his presence in the room. As far as you could remember, Remus Lupin was by your side through the lowest and scariest stages of war and it was unfair to celebrate the victory without him. There was this empty seat right in front of you at the dining table and each day a heavy lump tugged at your throat, because he hadn't returned yet. That spot belonged to him.

What on Earth was he doing away? Did it need to be now?

Though it saddened your twisted heart, you knew there was a reason behind his actions. So you decided to wait.

But as the days passed, your attention was drawn to the fact that Remus hadn't informed a single soul of his whereabouts. Still, everyone looked undisturbed by his absence. Your questions were left unanswered and you were getting worried that maybe something bad had happened to him. Despite your constant impatience, other members seemed totally unperturbed by Remus's disappearance. They just had some "Don't worry your mind, Y/N." to offer as a response. It was strange, as if they knew what Remus was up to. But since none of them was willing to let on any information about him, you didn't push it any further.

Maybe he didn't want you to know.

Or, maybe he didn't want you.

The thought crossed your mind in the middle of a particularly heated argument in the living room - which you didn't want to attend. Hermione had suddenly decided it was a good idea to keep you busy and away from the secluded atmosphere of your room, just for you to ignore the hustle and bustle and find your way back up the wooden stairs a few minutes later.

Just as the door clicked shut behind you, the unexpected touch of cool breeze on your cheeks brought a soft smile to your face. You didn't remember if the window was opened last time you were in the room, but nonetheless you watched as the gentle wind unhurriedly drifted through the curtains and vanished into your hair, spreading its cool and fresh air all around.

That was when a faint movement out of the corner of your eyes, caught your curious attention. It was right there, stuck on the wall below the ticking clock. The surface of a small purple note was swaying gently in the wind, waiting to be noticed by you. Even from across the room, you could pinpoint whose handwriting was written on it.

Your breathing hitched.

Just a few minutes ago, he was here.

But you weren't.

You quickly cast a look around the room and your gaze remained on the packed bags by the bedside table for a second longer before you reached for the tiny paper. Everything else was left totally untouched, meaning that his visit was fairly short with the sole purpose of leaving a sign and guiding you back to him. The same day you had decided to leave. Tears threatened to brim over and fall on your cheeks, but you blinked them away and traced your thumb several times over the cursive words, not trusting your blurry vision. The words were written in magical ink, giving off a celestial, multi-coloured glow that flowed freely and changed its appearance every few seconds.

It was like midnight sky.

Enchanted to fit inside the small space of a purplish paper.

It took you seconds of confusion to actually read those four words and realize what he meant by them. Midnight wasn't a specific moment in time. It couldn't be found on any clock. It was a secret rendezvous. Somewhere only the two of you knew.

So with a heart thudding fast and hands getting cold in anticipation, you strode towards the trunk and knelt down to carefully pull out the three books you'd tucked away beneath your clothes.

You knew where you needed to go.

***

Knowing that Grimmauld Place was bustling with activity and guests were coming and going as usual, it wasn't a hard task to sneak out of the building without being noticed.

Without looking back, you quickly descended the stone staircase and trusted your knees to not give in before seeing Remus. It was only a short walk away and nervousness had already taken over your whole being.

The sun was setting low and blasts of cold air were coming around faster than what you last felt in the bedroom, but the cold shivers could do nothing to stop you.

You had your fingers brushing against the inviting note which was folded safely inside your pocket. The warmth it radiated was of a promise for your impatient heart.

Minutes later, the familiar cobbled street came into the view and your gaze simply wandered around each building. A content smile formed on your lips at how normal everything seemed to be. Just a few days ago, you were one of the many volunteers who had witnessed the ruins of this particular side of a Muggle town and played a part in fixing it.

Especially that one book shop, standing out from the rest at the far end of the street.

Midnight

With shaky hands, you reached for the door handle and the friction suddenly brought you to a halt, old memories flooding back to your mind like a restless ocean...

Spring, the season of blooming and revival, had never been as gloomy and atrocious as it was now. Bad news flied around the town and spread like wildfire, faster than anyone who beared it. Death Eaters were invading and shattering wherever and whatever they saw fit. There was nowhere to safely hide and stay away from that growing darkness, but people were too scared to stand still and watch it consume them. Your eyes stung from how haunting their crestfallen expression was.

Remus had your hand firmly in his, dashing across the pavement towards what seemed to be a shop. Just after he pulled you inside and set to walk straight down the deserted area, your realized that it was filled with books.

It was no wonder.

No one in their wildest dreams could ever think of purchasing or burrowing books right now. But neither of you questioned the destination. It seemed like the place to be in that very moment, in the middle of a mission.

Torn pieces of paper were lying on the floor. Some of the shelves were broken and there were numerous holes on the walls. Your brows involuntarily knitted into a frown.

Just as Remus reached the far end of the shop, your steps halted and a soft touch of thumb on your cheek brought your back to reality. You were startled for a moment, not having realized you were on the verge of crying until Remus brushed one fallen tear away.

His hand remained there, more gentle than ever. As you leaned back against a shelf and looked up into his stormy eyes, for a brief moment, the sorrowful world faded into nothing. No voice could be heard from the outside. Only matching heartbeats and tangled souls. A hazy, colourful feeling had begun to flourish inside you, but it was vague and new. By the wide-eyed expression on his face, you knew he had felt it too.

The same man whose whole being you adored and cherished from distance, was your soulmate.

You blinked once, twice. Then the haze was gone. A simple indicator that now wasn't the right time to let this happen. What an inconvenient and cruel world.

To find your soulmate in the midst of approaching devastation.

War and its inevitable aftermath, his own werewolf condition, wrongful judgements. All of them had aimed to dam your chances of being together. Your inner bond couldn't form fully and bloom in all the cruelty and uncertainty that lay around it. You had to wait.

Remus knew it too.

"Y/N, my dearest," his own voice was cracking as he cupped your face in his warm hands. He paused and swallowed heavily. The disbelief hadn't left him either. "Now more than I could ever imagine, this heart of mine is yearning to be close to you. I want to leave it all behind and run away to wherever you lead. But I don't wish to lose you by breaking the rules. This magic between us, we'll work it out, okay?"

You knew how severe the consequences would be if soulmate rules weren't taken seriously.

But it still hurt.

Death Eaters were closing in. The sound of walls crashing and spells being shoot in various directions could be heard from nearby. Anger was raging through your veins, streaming down in the form of hot tears. The mere thought of not seeing Remus again was killing you and all you want to do was clutch onto him and never let go.

A lovely whisper, a sweet kiss, a comforting hug.

You wanted to try, but your lips were sealed, your feet unmoving, locked firmly on the spot. He always rendered you speechless. All you could muster was a slow nod.

"I... Remus, I lov- Merlin, I wanted to say that I-" you tried, but the four-letter word was forbidden to your mouth. The frustration set in and Remus was quick catch on your struggle and grant your wish by pulling you into a tight hug.

"I do understand, Remus. We'll work it out."

It was too quiet of a response to your own ears. You had no idea if he had heard it at all, because all your senses were focused on the rhythmic beating of his heart.

But Remus had a knowing smile on his perfectly scarred face.

"Sweetheart, never forget whatever you've dreamed of for our future. I'll be by your side until each of them becomes a reality. That day, I'd be damned if I give damn what anyone has to say."

He whispered and you sobbed silently into his chest.

Everything about this man had come from dreams.

No words were shared, but you promised to hold on to those dreams and never let go. Calmness took over you for a short moment, but it soon faded away as someone harshly burst through the door.

Both your wands were drawn out in an instant.

There was no time to lose.

"No matter what awaits us in this path, I have a hazy feeling that you'll always be my one and only. I'd do anything to stay in that haze forever."

You let the words get out of your chest in an urgent whisper. There was much more to say. You just had to wait.

"And... I will see you again, right?"

Remus nodded silently, taking your free hand in his and placing a lingering kiss on your knuckles. His eyes were full of certainty. You couldn't doubt his promises. Something about him was assuring you that this wasn't going to be the last time you'd be here.

"I guess," he glanced around at the ruins. You knew the scene deeply hurt him. Reading books was his favorite hobby. "Midnight will be our rendezvous then."

His smile was more certain. You couldn't help returning it.

He summoned three of his favorite books from different directions and they headed towards you all at once. "Read them while I'm away."

You had actually pored over each of those books several times, finding yourself attached to everything that reminded you of Remus in your lonely nights.

The atmosphere of the shop was warm and welcoming.

It was nothing like your last experience. The walls were decorated pleasantly and rows of books were neatly stacked on the shelves. Even a number of Muggles had come by to pay a visit. It wasn't deserted and cheerless anymore.

With a content sigh, you wandered around different sections and put two of the books back on their exact place. The last one belonged to the far end of the shop. There was no sign of Remus yet, so you set to walk a little more, having no doubt where you were headed.

The highest shelf, really?

Casting a quick look around, you decided to reach for your wand and levitate the book up to its place, but a defeated huff slipped your mouth as you realized you'd left it back in the bedroom on your rush.

You stood on your tiptoes again, trying your chance one more time, but the book nearly slipped out of your reach before a large, deft hand grabbed it and effortlessly places it on the wooden rack.

Tall and breathtaking.

You sensed his presence before seeing him.

Sandalwood and forest.

You were engulfed in his scent before seeing him.

"I had to help you with that one."

You heard his voice.

Before even seeing him.

Slowly turning around, your heartbeat raced up in anticipation and then for a second, it skipped a beat as you took in his broad smile. Once again the world had decided to halt its movement and put a silencing charm on any outer sound. There remained only your matching heartbeats and tangled souls.

You were falling in love all over again.

Remus didn't hide his astonishment either. You knew how he felt in was all so unbelievably beautiful. He was beautiful. Remus mouthed a silent "My dearest" and softly caressed your reddened cheek with the back of his free hand. The other one had remained braced above your head on the shelf.

Tears were willing to appear again, but nonetheless you grinned from ear to ear.

"You remembered our rendezvous."

The familiar haze was creeping up around you again and his intense gaze wasn't helping your wobbly knees at all. You swallowed and looked down at the neckline of his woolen jumper. Only for a brief moment. But Remus wasn't having it. He slid two fingers beneath your chin and tilted your head enough to draw your attention back to him. His touch was like flame on your skin.

"I never planned on forgetting it."

A single tear drop was wiped from your face before he pointed at the floor.

"We stood right here exactly three years ago. Y/N, you've got me enamored with you all this time."

His voice was like honey as he called your name.

But despite the fierce blush that spread over your neck and behind your ears, your nod was absent-minded. A cold tug inside your chest made you clutch onto his robes. The past and its memories were still haunting. You couldn't bear the thought of facing them ever again.

"I've missed you terribly, Remus. We finally worked it out, right? Tell me nothing's gonna stop this anymore. I need to hear it."

He patiently moved your arms to wrap around his neck and leaned forward, his hand on your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him. His certain eyes were on your lips. Your breathing hitched.

"I'd rather show it."

"Here?" You asked in a low voice, actually not even wanting him to stop even if the shop was bustling with crowds.

"Y/N, love. Today is the day I won't give a damn what people say."

He closed the remaining gap and met your lips in a reassuring kiss. His lips were softer than you'd ever imagined. His thumb drew circles on your back and you nearly melted into his touch. Apparently, soulmates in the wizarding world could experience the phenomenal appearance of their bond in reality. It was either in shapes, sounds or even colours. You hadn't believed it until now.

Because even with your eyes closed, you could somehow guess what colour the kiss was.

It was like midnight.

And nothing had stopped the sweet reverie this time. You nearly began to cry.

But Remus gave your side a light squeeze, easily taking your mind off that thought. Your fingers came up to trace over his beautifully scarred face and a content sigh escaped him. Barely audible, but you noticed and a smile bloomed at the corner your mouth. With both hands tied securely around you, his tongue swiped over your bottom lip and your head tilted backwards, easily allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The feeling was only intensified as a sweet, floral scent wafted through the air. If Remus wasn't holding you, you'd definitely fallen over by now.

How was it that he knew everything?

It had taken you years to feel this moment and neither of you was willing to let go or see where the scent was coming from. But you needed air. You pulled back to catch your breath and that was when colourful shapes came across your line of vision.

You looked around and gasped at the galactic sight. The shop was barely recognizable.

It had turned into a flower field.

Thousands of lavenders were scattered across the floor, swinging in the invisible wind like an undulating purple sea. Even the numerous books were replaced by flowers. The scenery was exceptionally tranquil and beautiful.

A bluish purple haze was hanging above the field, slowly creeping its way around the place and engulfing you in its pure charm.

Suddenly, you were reminded of those hazy feelings both of you had talked about. They never had a colour before. They never had a shape. It wasn't a full love before.

You hadn't broken the rules. You had waited. And this was your final reward.

It was mesmerizing. You found it dizzying.

Before you got the chance to ask if Remus could also see any of the lavenders or the violet smoke, he knelt down and picked one of them, gently tucking it in your hair. All of that was real.

Minutes later, you were being dragged out of the shop.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands and bit your lip in excitement. Remus John Lupin took great pleasure in surprising you with unexpected events, even if it meant you had to sneak past all the enchanting magic that was surrounding you.

"Where are we going?"

He raised a playful brow and chuckled, looking at you over his shoulder. "Sweetheart, I hope you haven't forgotten your dreams."

That hearty chuckle of him turned into a delighted laugh and you thought it was the most heartwarming sound you'd ever heard.

You felt truly happy.

***

Later that night, when Remus took you to his little cottage in the middle of the woods, it dawned on you why he was absent all those days. He'd tended to decorate the place with his own hands, no use of magic. And somehow, it was more magical than any other scenery you'd ever seen.

It was all surreal.

In the middle of the night, as you lay awake and stared at the ceiling together, the purplish haze was still shimmering in the air. Down below, flowers were blooming in every direction. Up above, supernovas were exploding and pouring their glittery sparkles down on you. The bed felt like a fluffy blanket of cloud drifting across the starry sky. You blinked once, twice. Nothing faded.

It was magical. There was no other way to put it.

But to you, he was the real magic. The blue shade of his eyes was sparkling with every dream you'd ever thought of. Everytime you looked into them, your heart swelled with happiness. Because you knew your biggest wish was granted. A soft brush of your fingertips against his chest and over his hand, could reveal the galaxies buried deep within. A canopy of twinkling stars hovered above you and yet there was nothing more magical that him.

Lots of "I love you"s were expressed in different forms and ways. Lots of stories were shared. Lots of secrets were revealed.

And yet... There was a lot more to come.

Lovely whispers, sweet kisses, comforting hugs.

You had forever to do all of them.

"We will stay in that lavender haze, forever."

Remus whispered into your ear and locked you in his warm embrace. You knew he meant it. This love was meant to surround both of you in its eternal glow.

You'd finally met each other, at midnight. The place of wonders.

-

If you enjoyed, you can check my Wattpad for more <3

[wyomingparmesan]

And I Lost You (The One I Was Dancin’ With in New York)

Chapter 1: Good Girl, Sad Boy

This is the first part of my submission for @theerasfestlovesquareversion! I was assigned the album Midnights and this fic is inspired by three songs from that album. Hope y’all enjoy!

Read on AO3

——————————————————————————-

Marinette straightened the hem on her pink miniskirt as she stood in front of the elevator. Her fingers trembled as she applied a fresh coat of lip gloss to her already stained lips. As the bell chimed and the door opened, she quickly stepped inside. Her hand quivered as she pressed the button for her designated floor.

She stood with her back straight against the wall, taking in deep breaths as to mentally prepare herself. Her eyes followed the numbers as they flashed on the screen. Finally, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

As she stepped out into the narrow hallway, that was when the nerves really started to hit. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her stomach did a few somersaults. She stopped to lean against the wall for a moment as a feeling of uneasiness built up within her chest.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “I can do this, it’ll be okay,” she said to herself in a low voice. As the feeling began to pass, she continued walking towards her destination.

This was the first time she would be visiting Alya in her new apartment. Her older sister was away at university and her parents had taken the twins out for the weekend, which gave her the perfect opportunity to throw a small housewarming party.

It didn’t take long for Marinette to find the apartment as the sound of loud music seeped out through the walls. She reached a hand up to knock on the door, then retracted it. Alya had actually sent her a text message a few hours earlier saying to just come inside.

After taking just a few more calming breaths, Marinette turned the doorknob and let herself slip inside. She was greeted by a nicely lit room filled with the aroma of snacks and wine.

To her surprise, quite a few people had already arrived. Juleka, Rose, Mylène and Alix sat on the couch, glasses of red wine already filling the coffee table. Nathaniel and Marc had made a spot on the floor, where they sat with Kim and Max.

The aforementioned groups waved happily at her as she walked past. Her eyes landed on Alya, who stood near the snack table. Their eyes met and her best friend smiled widely as Marinette began walking towards her.

“There you are!” Alya said as she pulled her into a hug. “You haven’t answered my texts since this morning, I really thought something had happened to you.”

Marinette felt her face turn cold as a wave of guilt washed over her. “Oh, um, yeah…” she looked down at her feet. “Sorry about that.”

“Are you okay?” Alya asked, her voice filled with concern. Her eyes widened as it finally hit her. “Oh…right, yeah, I should’ve known.”

Marinette looked up at her. “No, no, it’s not your fault,” she shook her head, her loose bun flopping around. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Alya looked at her with a sad expression. “Okay, well, I’ll take your word for it,” then her smile returned. “After all, you are my honored guest tonight.”

Marinette chuckled. “I would be lying if I said that I’m not nervous, but I’m trying my best,” she admitted.

“That’s good enough for me,” Alya patted her on the shoulder. “I’m just happy that you decided to come anyway.”

“Hey, Babe,” Nino slipped in behind her and kissed her cheek. “This party is totally rockin’! You did such a wonderful job.” His eyes landed on Marinette and he smiled widely. “Oh, hey, Marinette! I’m so happy to see you!”

She smiled shyly. “I’m happy to see you, too,” her voice came out sounding so small. “Everything looks really nice, so far.”

“Glad to hear it, dude!” He grabbed a glass of wine and twirled it around. “Hey, I’ll be over at the DJ booth if there’s any song you’d like me to play.”

She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then, she froze.

“Hey, Nino, you left these over there,” Adrien came up beside him, a pair of red headphones in his hands. “I think you’re going to need them.”

“Thanks, buddy!” Nino said, excitedly as he grabbed them from his hands. “I’ll be over there if y’all need me!” He then took off towards the DJ booth.

Adrien. Adrien Agreste. The same Adrien who broke up with her nearly a year ago. Her ex-boyfriend, Adrien, whom she had been avoiding for the past year.

Yet, somehow, she was unable to take her eyes off of him.

The urge to run away built up within her, but it was as if her feet had been glued to the floor. She stood there, her body cemented in its current position. No matter how hard she tried, she was forced to stand there and face the boy whom she once loved so much.

He immediately noticed her staring at him and looked away, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, hey, Marinette,” he said without even taking one single glance at her. “Glad to see you here.”

The awkward nervousness in his voice did little to soothe her aching nerves. Her heart pounded in her chest as his voice rang in her ears. “H-Hi, Adrien…” her muscles finally allowed her to move and she managed to look away from him. “Yeah, I, uh, wanted to be here to support my best friend.”

His eyes shifted towards her and he smiled a little. “Of course, I figured you would,” then he looked over at Alya, who was still awkwardly standing there. “Nice party, by the way, I’m having a lot of fun.”

Alya looked between her two friends and shook her head. “I’m glad to hear that, Adrien!” She said, smiling. “I should probably go get some of the games ready.”

As she turned to leave, Marinette reached out a hand to her. “Wait, no! Don’t leave me here…” she then noticed the sad expression on Adrien’s face and caught what she was saying. “You…you probably need some help with the games, right? I’d love to help!”

Alya cocked an eyebrow at her, then immediately realized. “Oh, yeah, sure, of course,” she grabbed her by the hand, but not before smiling widely at Adrien. “Maybe Nino would like some help at his booth, too?”

Adrien perked up and looked back towards where his best friend was. “Maybe so, I guess I can go check,” he began to turn around. “I’ll see you two around then.”

He then walked off and Marinette felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh my god! That was awful!” She exclaimed as Alya dragged her down the hall. “I-I was just frozen, Alya, that’s what he does to me! And I hate it!”

As Alya opened the door to a nearby closet, she asked, “Do you actually hate it, though?”

Marinette could feel herself becoming irritated, the anger bubbling up inside of her. “Of course I do and you know exactly why,” she said, accepting a box that Alya handed to her.

“Because he broke your heart, I know,” Alya turned around to face her as she closed the door with her foot. “But exactly how long did you think you’d be able to avoid him, Marinette? I mean, you already refuse to even look at him in school.”

“And I planned on keeping it that way,” her voice became soft, trailing off as she looked down at her feet. “But…”

“But?” Alya looked at her, her eyebrow raised.

“Recently, I’ve started realizing that I can’t keep avoiding him forever,” she admitted. “But it’s just…I dunno.”

“Well, so long as you two aren’t at each other’s throats,” Alya began as they started walking back towards the party. “Then I’ll take the awkward, minimalist conversations.”

Marinette sighed. “I don’t hate him, ya know,” she said. “Things are just…weird between us.”

“That thought never even crossed my mind,” Alya said, smiling. “Just give it some time and maybe things will be better between you two eventually.”

As they made it back into the living room, they sat their boxes down in the middle of the floor.

“Maybe, but I’m not holding my breath,” Marinette said, taking a glance at the boxes that they had been carrying. “What is this, by the way?”

Her best friend looked at her with a cheeky grin that made her entire stomach do a flip. “Just a little party game, that’s all,” she responded, leaning down to open the boxes. “Go on and talk to everybody, I can set it up.”

Marinette stuck her shaky hands into the pockets of her skirt and shifted on her feet. “Okay, I will,” she said, her eyes glancing around the room.

A few more of their friends had arrived while she was busy helping Alya. Zoé happily strolled in with her girlfriend and Luka and Kagami trailed behind her. Despite being in a room surrounded by some of her closest friends…

Her eyes still couldn’t stop landing on the blond boy in the corner. He stood up against the wall, a glass of wine in his hand as he laughed. His body shook as a wide grin spread across his lips. He always smiled so brightly whenever he laughed.

A sudden fluttering feeling made its way into her stomach. A hint of queasiness came along with it and her legs shook. She swallowed hard, grabbing a nearby glass of wine and taking a few sips. She forced her eyes to look away from Adrien before her entire body collapsed.

“Hey, Marinette, you okay?” A small voice came from behind her and she turned around to see Zoé standing there. “You look a little sick.”

“Zoé! Hey! O-Oh, yeah, I’m okay,” she took another sip before sharing a quick hug with her friend. “Just really anxious to be here, that’s all.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” she took a sip of her water. “It’s really nice to hang out with everyone again, but especially you!”

Zoé’s bright smile alleviated some of the pressure that had been building within her. “Same to you as well,” Marinette said. “It’s been long overdue.”

“You said it!” Zoé said, laughing a little. “And I know that things have been really awkward between you and a certain someone, but don’t let that stop you from enjoying this party, okay?”

Marinette sighed and slapped her free hand to her face. “Is it really that obvious?”

Zoé nodded as she flashed her a small smile. “You’re a bit of an open book, Marinette,” she said. “But it’s okay, you’ll get through it.”

Marinette let herself breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m trying, I promise,” she said. “Alya wanted me here and I knew he would be here because we literally share all of the same mutual friends so…yeah.”

“I know the feeling,” Zoé gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “You psych yourself up for something, but then when it comes time to do it, you just…” she took another swig of water. “You get it.”

“I sure do…” she let herself take another sip of wine as Alya’s voice piped up.

“Alright, everyone!” Alya began as she turned down the music enough for everyone to hear her. “I hope everyone is enjoying themselves so far!”

The entire room became filled with various responses of “yes”, “yeah” and “hell yeah.”

“Glad to hear it,” she clasped her hands in front of herself. “I hope y’all are ready because I’ve got a super fun, yet very classic party game for us to play.” She walked over to a small setup in the middle of the living room. A circle of pillows had been laid down and an empty bottle of wine lay right in the middle.

“Oh no…she didn’t…” Marinette whispered to herself, a shiver making its way down her spine.

“It’s a little game called…” Alya knelt down and spun the bottle, watching as it pointed towards one of the pillows on the floor. “Spin the Bottle!”

And just like that, Marinette had gained a new fear.

[no-more-tales-tavern]

Sinful 5A: Laudna waking Romeo the day after her wedding to Imogen ... still in her dress.

Bonus points for Imogen telepathically encouraging Laudna.

Sinful Gifs: 5A

Romeo was not unfamiliar with the sensation of being woken to his cock smothered in the heavenly embrace of soft and pillowy tits, but it was certainly a surprising one considering he distinctly remembered returning to his room alone the night before. And, considering the slight chill he felt from that heavenly embrace, he had a feeling he knew exactly who it was.

“Laudna…what are you doing here…~?”

The dark-skinned knight slowly sat up in his bed, blinking away the last of his sleep, to lock eyes with the phantasmally gorgeous woman kneeling on his bed, her plump and soft—if a bit chilled from undeath—breasts pumping up and down his shaft with frenetic eagerness. He wasn’t exactly sure how she’d managed to undress him without he knowing, and he figured he’d rather not ask.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Romeo~?” the gothic daydream of a warlock purred in reply, leaning in close to plant a smooch to the tip of his cock as it rose between her breasts—an action that made him shiver and groan with desire. “I just woke up~ and I’m eager for my breakfast~ I hope you have plenty of cream for me~”

The half-dark-elf groaned and gripped the bedsheets to either side of him, struggling best he could not to let instinct overtake him. “Shouldn’t you be with Imogen right now~? You two god married literally yesterday~!”

As he said that, there was a spark of amusement in the corpse bride’s eyes, and she planted another smooch to the tip of his cock. “Who do you think sent me over here~?” she cooed playfully, her tongue flicking over his tip before pulling back to shoot him a wink. “Say hi, Imogen~”

Hi~ a singsong voice suddenly jingled in the back of Romeo’s mind. Are you enjoying my wife, Romeo~? Don’t worry about making a mess of her~ I’ll be there soon to help her out~

And with that, any restraint Romeo might’ve been holding onto fell away, and he let his head roll back with a deep and lustful groan, hot and thick cum erupting up from his cock to shoot over Laudna’s face, over her neck, and between her breasts. The gothic sorceress gasped with delight and moaned, biting her lip at the sudden warmth, and Romeo heard a similar moan in his mind as well.

Mmm~ oh yeah, I’ll be there very soon~

[imxnotxhere]

Acotar Men Fic Recs

** Updated 03/07/2024 **

I already made a list for azriel which was actually meant as a list for all the characters I read for but I read a lot more of azriel fics because he's my baby and the list was getting too long. So here are the rest of the characters and I also added some more azzy drabbles sorry

Rhysand

@azsazz

dioxazine part 2 - fluff, smut, modern au, art school au

the lord's work - smut

if you should die before you wake - smut, rhys x cass x azriel x reader

just hold on - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

double duty - smut, rhys x reader x cass

what's mine - smut, rhys x eris x reader

lavender haze - fluff, suggestive

@tadpolesonalgae

mine - smut, check warnings!

knocked up - smut

vampire!rhysand drabble - smut

professor!rhys headcanons part 2 - smut

soothing - fluff, aftercare

@leafsandstarlight

easy like sunday morning - fluff, smut

@azrielbrainrot

my body keeps saying it's yours - smut

all over my skin - smut, rhys x reader x azriel

@writingsbychlo

home to us - fluff

rhys as a pleasure dom - smut - technically a drabble? blurb?

@azrielscrown

mirror mirror - smut

daylight - fluff

@acourtofwhatthefuck

shrinking violet - smut

@shadowdaddies

if i catch you i fuck you - smut

@fieldofdaisiies

rhysand... - drabble, smut

Cassian

@azsazz

mirror mirror - smut

take it - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

@tadpolesonalgae

on the strategy board - smut

pools of sunlight - fluff

@leafsandstarlight

halley's comet - angst, smut

@princess-tulip-writes

drabble - smut - az x cass x reader

@fieldofdaisiies

cassian... - drabble

@illyrianbitch

words of affirmation - fluff

Eris

@acourtofmenandthirst

runaway - angst, smut

fox hunting - smut

closed until further notice - fluff, smut, coffee shop au

smut blurb

smut blurb II

@leafsandstarlight

destiny's battleground - angst, smut

my lovely throne - smut

despite our differences - angst, smut, series

the prince of blood part 2 part 3 - vampire!eris

@tadpolesonalgae

servitude - smut

thumb prints - smut

@serpentandlily

sly fox, dumb bunny - series

@azsazz

the burning of the autumn leaves and the roaring of my yearning heart - angst, smut

soul on fire - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

@azrielbrainrot

fire on fire - angst?

mind over matter - angst?

@gothicbabydollz

riding eris' face - smut, drabble

riding eris' thigh - smut, drabble

@honeybeefae

cauldron fated - angst, smut

@princess-tulip-writes

making out with eris while giving him a handjob - smut, drabble

praise kink eris - smut, drabble

@fieldofdaisiies

eris' hands... - drabble

eris... - drabble

@theostrophywife

like you wanna be loved - fluff

Lucien

@tadpolesonalgae

solecist night - smut

@acourtofwhatthefuck

yell at me again - smut

personal problem - smut

the moon on a string - fluff

@princess-tulip-writes

drabble - smut

drabble - smut, az x lucien x reader (kind of)

@gothicbabydollz

dom lucien - smut, human!reader

@fieldofdaisiies

lucien... - smut

@ceoofyearning

say yes to heaven - fluff

Helion

@leafsandstarlight

a high lord's scholar - fluff

@tadpolesonalgae

new mechanisms - smut

sweet like peaches - smut

[solaireverie]

sv5 | that lavender haze

summary: [ florist!sebastian vettel x f!driver!reader — social media au ] your florist husband spoils you with his creations

faceclaim: phoebe tonkin

author’s note: seb the love of my life <3

[ masterlist / guidelines / lola's masterlist / series masterlist ]

liked by sebastianvettel, lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 35,201,234 others

yourusername catching the waves 🏄🏻‍♀️

view comments

sebastianvettel Ich liebe dich 🥰

↪ yourusername can't wait to be home with you again 💗

ausgp can we keep you down under please? 🦘

↪ f1mia back off 🦅🇺🇸

user mother AND mommy omg

mickschumacher can you teach me how to surf instead 🙏 lewishamilton doesn't understand that not everyone is naturally talented at everything

↪ lewishamilton i don't know what to tell you, mate 😂 keep calm and keep your balance, it's all chill

↪ mickschumacher easy for you to say 🙄 you're not the one drinking seawater every five minutes

yourusername has added to their story

liked by yourusername, mickschumacher, charles_leclerc and 124,129 others

tagged: yourusername

sebastianvettel Welcome home yourusername ❤️ the flowers missed you and so did I 😉

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user i love how y/n's husband's instagram is basically just a fanpage for her 😂

↪ user nah you can't forget the flowers ‼️

↪ user seb loves two things in life and they're his flowers and his wife 😌

user i don't even go here but i'm all for the golden retriever and black cat vibes 🤭

mickschumacher seb i have a bee problem in my backyard...

↪ charles_leclerc you know you could just text him right 🙃

↪ mickschumacher he checks his phone once every three months if your name isn't y/n l/n-vettel 💀

↪ sebastianvettel and I'm not ashamed of it 😄 but what can I help you with?

↪ mickschumacher a colony of bees moved into my garden 😅 i don't mind them but is there anything i should watch out for?

↪ sebastianvettel As long as they're not being overly aggressive you shouldn't have any problems 👍 keep me updated though

↪ mickschumacher thanks seb you're a lifesaver 😊

yourusername thanks for the flowers schatz 😘

↪ user ugh they're so Parents 😭

liked by charles_leclerc

↪ user charles liked your comment 😂 i guess even the drivers agree

↪ landonorris you didn't hear it from me but seb and y/n are the unofficial official grid parents

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, yourusername, and 23,109,234 others

tagged: sebastianvettel

mercedesamgf1 We have a special guest this weekend at the #JapaneseGP 🐝 sebastianvettel is here at Suzuka to promote biodiversity and build some bee hotels with the drivers 💪

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charles_leclerc Appreciated the art tips 😉

user this man 😭 "what do you think about this weekend's race?" "well obviously my wife is going to win everything"

↪ user as he should honestly

↪ user when you're in a "being a wife guy" competition and your opponent is sebastian vettel 💀

kevinmagnussen Thanks a lot Seb 😂 the kids want beehives now!

↪ sebastianvettel Glad to know that someone was listening when I was giving my talk about the role that bees play in our ecosystem 😔

↪ landonorris in my defence someone brought cookies and i was hungry...

↪ sebastianvettel you are 24 years old, Lando

↪ user why can i feel seb's disappointment through an instagram comment 😭

yourusername sometimes i wonder if he'd leave me for his bees 😂

↪ lewishamilton don't worry, you can crash on my couch if he does. roscoe needs a permanent babysitter

↪ yourusername two decades of friendship and that's all you see me as?

↪ lewishamilton let me by during the grand prix and i'll think about it

↪ yourusername mercedesamgf1 i'm telling toto

↪ sebastianvettel I would never leave you for bees, liebling. Clean energy, on the other hand...

liked by sebastianvettel, lewishamilton, susie_wolff and 132,293,402 others

tagged: sebastianvettel

yourusername Happy anniversary, my love 💐 12 years and counting

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user the bouquet emoji because he's a florist omg 🥹

user my favorite thing ever is how 5-time wdc y/n l/n-vettel's husband is Just Some Guy who's completely smitten with his wife and makes her all the bouquets she could ever want 😭

↪ user they're like cottagecore addams 😩 i adore them so much

↪ user COTTAGECORE ADDAMS HELP 🤣🤣🤣

susie_wolff Congratulations and our best wishes!

↪ yourusername thank you ❤️😊 the same to you and toto!

sebastianvettel I'm the luckiest man in the world to be able to call you my wife and partner 💗 You're P1 forever, especially in my heart

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads @misartymis

[oceantornadoo]

ocean's john price masterlist

18+!!! everything is f!reader unless specified otherwise

tired of everyone but you

sex ban (gn reader)

soulmate au (gn reader)

come back, be here

annoying neighbor part 2

office visit

something in the air

what's a divorce?

the cure for a bad day

mafia stalker price

duckie universe (best friend x marriage pact)

pad shopping

bad date

at the workplace

quiet hours

the prophecy

staring problem

pockets of possessiveness

yeah, honey?

lavender haze (tw: weed)

team’s night out

captain dilf

[fakeplasticlovers]

on a dark desert highway | j.m.

part i. of hotel california

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

wc: 3.4k

warnings: no outbreak!AU. age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, joel early forties). sarah is still alive and in college. alcohol consumption and smoking. joel thinks he's a dirty old man. dad rock. sexual tension. reader's a shameless flirt. reader has the nickname polly, but no name or use of y/n (explained in chapter). reader also gets flirty w an old lady (maybe she has a type?). slow burn.

hotel california masterlist · hotel california tag

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, the yellow markers on the highway blurring into each other. He reached over to the carafe of coffee in the cup holder, staving off his body's cries for sleep. He takes a swig, large palm coming up to swipe over his features that have began to slacken under the threat of slumber.

1,237 miles. Eighteen hours. That's how long he had driven. Any other time, he would have flown in to visit the city of angels, but he and his truck were needed to satisfy his only child's list of demands.

"Come on, dad. I need your help! I don't trust anyone else," Sarah's voice rang through the receiver, disturbing the otherwise quiet Sunday morning he had been enjoying to himself.

"Don't understand why you need me to bring the damn bed. The hell are you gonna sleep on when you come visit here?" Joel grunted, taking a swig of the black liquid swirling in his mug.

"I'll figure it out! I just need my bed. Miss it so much... besides, you've seen the one in my dorm. It's, like, a piece of plastic. I deserve a good night's rest, don't you agree?"

"Damn expensive piece of plastic." He grumbles, setting his mug down, catching a glimpse of the 'WORLD'S #1 DAD' embossed on the face. He complies nonetheless.

Two weeks pass, and Joel is driving halfway across the country with his daughter's plush mattress and lavender bed frame strapped to the bed of his truck. He had half a mind to bring his brother with him to help with the grueling process of moving Sarah into her first apartment, but he decided that lifting boxes up two flights of stairs and assembling furniture by himself was more alluring than spending twenty hours in a car with Tommy.

His glazed over eyes drift to the clock on his dash. 10:17pm. The long stretch of highway that wound from the outskirts of Phoenix to the edge of Joshua Tree begins to approach civilization. Joel's made this trip before — it's quiet. He's grown to appreciate quiet in recent years. The dark sky is freckled by a thousand stars that would soon be overcasted by the bleeding city lights, and Joel thinks he'll miss them when they're gone.

A ring from his dashboard pulls him out of the quiet he's began to tend to, alerting him that he has twenty-five miles until his tank is empty. A sharp huff of air leaves his nose, fingers curling around the leather of the steering wheel. He surveys his surroundings, and determines that he's still about thirty minutes out from Palm Springs.

There's a haze of blue light that flickers not too far in the distance. His headlights illuminate a green sign that reads LODGING AHEAD — ONE MILE.

Despite his feeble attempts to keep his eyes from rolling back into his skull; now that fumes have began burning off the truck's tailpipe, he decides to stop for the night. He fumbles for the phone that graces the cloth of his passenger seat.

Outside Palm Springs. See you in the morning.

He shoots the message off the Sarah, pulling into the hotel lot. Red dirt kicks up under his tires as the car slows with a jolt. He reaches for the key in the ignition, his head rolling back onto the rest. Too old for this shit, he thinks to himself. He hops out of truck, knees cracking as they reach the gravel beneath him. Definitely too old for this shit.

Joel's surrounded by the now eerie sound of quiet, save for the rustle of tumbleweeds and hot breeze wrapping around his stiffening frame. The hotel is adequate, by the looks of it. The spanish style terracotta adorned by cracks, the blue lighting fixtures in the building's arches are shorting, along with the neon nameplate on the front.

HOTEL CALIFORNIA, except with the flickering letters, it only fully reads H O E FOR A. Below the unfortunate sign, the word 'vacancy' cuts through the darkness.

It'll do for the night.

A small wooden fixture with directions acts as a fork in the road, with one arrow pointing towards the path to check-in and the other pointing towards the hotel bar. Fuck it, Joel thinks. He's spent eighteen hours on the road, the least he deserves is a whiskey.

So Joel chooses to find his fate in the bottom of a glass, boots crunching up a palm tree lined path to the bar. The lighting could be better, but the stars he has began to become acquainted with help enough to irradiate his way. A splintering wooden door comes into view, and when his fist pushes the cool metal handle open, the deafening silence of the desert night is immediately snuffed out.

The bar is electric, with dozens of patrons embellishing every dark and hazy corner, each nursing their own summertime cocktails while guffawing amongst themselves.

Joel blinks, finding himself racking his brain for the lack of cars he'd witnessed in the lot, expecting nothing short of a dead crowd. The crowd wouldn't shock him if this were Austin on Friday night, but it's the last thing he expected in the desert suburbs of Palm Springs.

He takes a seat on one of the pink leather barstools, the squeaky cover somehow welcomed after sitting on a truck bench for over ten hours. He's not one to feel out of place, but as his eyes scan amongst the partygoers, he can't help but feel like he's infringing on something.

An elderly couple, the woman sporting magenta hair, sways to the Mamas and Papas song floating from the jukebox in the corner. Besides them, a gang of bikers are enthralled in a painstaking game of snake eyes at a high table. A group of young kids around Sarah's age are still clad in their swimsuits, drunkenly strewn across a pool table as they fail to sink the solids and stripes.

Despite the vast differences between each of them, everyone seems to exist on the same peculiar plane of existence; one Joel's not sure if he'd like to be a part of just yet.

"What can I get you, looky loo?" A voice snatches him from his observations, a pair of raised eyebrows meeting his gaze.

Joel can't gauge the expression on your face. Despite the inquisitiveness on your brow, he knows it's not curiosity. Despite the turn of your lips, it's not amusement.

You cock your head in a way to repeat the question at hand.

"Whiskey neat.... Please." Joel manages to sputter out, turning his body fully towards you, ribcage pressing against the polished wood of the bar top.

You snort to yourself, retrieving a rocks glass that's stowed out of sight. Joel studies your features under the ambient light of the bar. You're fuzzy to him, even though no alcohol has reached his bloodstream.

"Not from around here, are you?" You prompt, slapping a Coors coaster on the wood before him, before placing the Johnnie Walker on top. Before he gets an answer out,

"Open or closed?"

His gaze flicks between you and his glass. Must not work for tips. You lean against the bar, both hands curling around the edge.

He assumes this is your way of marking your territory. Letting him know not to start shit in your place.

"That obvious, 'uh?" He huffs, eyes narrowing slightly as you crane your neck in response, "Leave it open, 'm good for it."

"Not a lot of people come through here wearing flannels in the middle of July." You tut with a small shrug of your shoulders.

The observation of his apparel has him taking the time to note yours — a pair of cut off Levi's and a faded Blondie tank.

He internally grimaces at the thought that you'd probably consider a band from his time nothing but a piece for your vintage collection.

"That, and your accent sticks out like a sore thumb. If you ignore the people who come through faking ones."

"Accent, huh?" A tiny smirk threatens to cross his features, but it's easily masked by the glass he brings up to his lips.

"Far as 'm concerned, only one here with an accent is you."

That gets a small chuckle out of you. A sense of pride creeps into his chest, one he quickly stomps out with another pull from the whiskey tumbler. Don't be a creepy old man.

"Where you visiting from, man with no name?" You push up off the ledge, reaching behind you to grab a highball glass filled with a fizzy red drink.

Joel scoffs at the nickname.

"Drinking on the job?" He ignores your question, brow quirking as he gestures towards your hand.

"It's a Shirley temple!" You gasp incredulously at his accusation, free palm coming up to clutch your proverbial pearls.

Your chest bounces slightly with the movement, causing the air to get caught in Joel's throat. He throws his palms up in mock defense, trying to hide the fact that he was just staring at your tits.

"C'mon, humor me. Where are you from?" You prod, bitten lips wrapping around the pink straw bobbing in the virgin cocktail. Joel takes the time to observe the chipping red polish on your nails. Maybe you should start working for tips. "I gotta hour left to kill."

Joel traces the rim of his glass, about a finger of Walker left in it. He clicks his tongue, gesturing to the ever lively crowd around him.

"Looks like you got plenty of people to entertain you 'round here."

"Oh, come on, man. I see these guys every weekend. Don't tell anybody, but I'm gettin' sick of 'em." You lean closer, your hushed tone existing somewhere in the ether between the boisterous bar goers and Steely Dan crooning.

"Sounds like they're loyal." Joel remarks, intentionally dodging your question once again. He's beginning to sense the fact that you're impatient. "'S matter with that?"

"The matter is that I'm bored, Butch Cassidy." The ice begins to rattle in your glass as you continue to swig at it. An offensively bright red cherry is twisted between the cubes. "'nother whiskey?"

"Jesus. If I tell you, would you stop with the nicknames?" He grunts, pushing the empty glass off the coaster across the bar top, leaving a trail in its wake.

Your eyes narrow, quick to snap up a rag to clean up his mess.

"Austin. It's in Texas."

"I know where Austin is." You bite back, refilling his glass before stepping away to help another customer.

It's the pink lady back for another glass of Chablis. She fawns over you as you pour the wine; long, magenta manicured nails that match her locks come out to pinch your cheeks, before tucking a ten dollar bill in the strap of your tank.

You make quick work of fixing yourself another shirley temple, perching yourself back in the emptiness in front of him. He didn't even realize he was waiting for you to return.

"So, Tex, what brings you to the Buttfuck Middle of Nowhere, California?" You quiz, your curious brow returning to its spot arched high on your forehead.

"Thought I said to stop with the nicknames." Another question avoided.

"Never said I do what I'm told." You singsonged, shirley stained lips twitching up under the muddy lighting.

"Wouldn't need to use a nickname if I knew your real name, Tex."

Trouble, Joel thinks.

You're nothing but trouble and he's nothing but stranded in the middle of the fuckin' desert.

He pauses for a few beats, taking the newfound silence between you to rake across the parts of your figure that aren't hidden by the bar.

"Joel." He breathes, giving in to your barrage of questioning for the second time this night.

It's your turn to pause, eyes shifting back and forth, finally pinning him with your gaze.

"Joel..." You repeat, voice so quiet his name is nearly lost within the bumbling conversations nearby.

His heart skips like a fucking teenager.

"I believe you." You declare, raising the bottle of Johnnie Walker to fill his glass once again.

Joel chuckles under his breath. Two things he thinks he knows about you now — impatient and untrusting.

"Didn't answer my other question, though, Joel. What are you doing here?" You prop your head on your hand, arms crossing on the sticky counter in front of you, as if you're telling him there's nothing more important in this moment than the answer to your question.

Joel cocks his head to the side, wondering what your endgame is. There's no way a good looking young woman like you cares what he's doing by himself on a Friday night a thousand miles from home.

Surely you can't be that bored; you have dozens of regulars here that, judging by the pink lady's treatment, adore you. He wonders if he should tell you the truth, since he'll never see you again. Tell you he's driving his daughter's childhood bed up to her crappy off-campus apartment in Westwood. Tell you that he's so fucking old he nearly fell asleep at the wheel and ran out of gas in the process. Tell you that his life back in Austin is so boring that he hasn't had weekend plans since Tommy's birthday a couple months back.

"Got some business up in Los Angeles I gotta tend to." He answers coolly, with a small shrug of his shoulders like it's no big deal. Despite the fact that he'll never see you again, something burrowed deep in Joel's chest doesn't want you to see him for what he is — boring dad to a college student with no social or sex life.

He chalks it up the fact that he thinks this is the longest conversation he's had with a woman that wasn't a client or the mother of another player on Sarah's varsity soccer team in years.

"Some business." You mock him. Ice rattles in the glass again. "What? You a hitman or somethin'?"

"No, smartass." His turn to narrow his eyes. Empty glass taps the bar top. "Contractor."

"Contractor, huh?" You wag your eyebrows as you pour his third whiskey of the night. "Must be good with your hands if they need you all the way out here from Austin."

If his glass weren't empty, he would have choked on its contents. He feels heat rise above the collar of his flannel, fever crawling up neck. He can't remember the last time he blushed.

"Guess so, trouble." He mutters just above a whisper, fingers brushing against yours as he tugs the now full glass out of your grasp.

"Never got your name."

"Polly!" A gruff voice sounds throughout the bar, an older gentleman poking his head out from a fluorescent bathed room tucked around a clay-colored corner. "How you doin' on ice?"

Your gaze shifts away from Joel at the interruption. Below the counter top, chipped fingers fiddle with an ice chest lid.

"'M good, Cliff! I'll fill it up before I leave." You shout back, the thud of the ice box falling shut punctuating your announcement.

The older man grunts, waving his hand at you dismissively as he stalks back into his beaming foxhole. You divert your attention back to Joel with an almost apologetic look gracing your features.

"That your name?" He prompts, a little too eagerly, "Polly?"

"Pol-?" You leer at him in confusion, the realization taking a moment to reach you.

"Oh, ha!" You bark out, snapping the rag that was resting over your shoulder against bar top. "No way. 'S just a nickname."

"Polly's your nickname, huh?" Joel squints.

Polly. Polly. Polly.

"What — you always want a cracker or somethin'?"

For the second time that night, Joel Miller makes you genuinely laugh. Your head rolls back, eyes squeezing shut as your upper body shakes with tremors of humor. Suddenly, he has never felt less tired in his life.

"No, you ass." You roll your eyes, "'ts short for Pollyanna. That was Cliff, my boss. He calls me that to fuck with me."

"I see." Joel tuts, "Can't say I pegged you as a Pollyanna."

"'Cause I'm not, Joel the Contractor." You deadpan, staring at him straight in the eyes with an empty expression.

Joel can't tell if he's pissed you off or not, so he finishes the swig of whiskey left in his glass.

"Hm. Joel the Contractor... doesn't quite flow like Bob the Builder." You snicker, defusing the tension that Joel had feared he had created.

"So, you're not gonna tell me your real name?" Joel pushes, finding it only fair that he know yours now that you know his.

You purse your lips, bringing one of those red nails up to tap your chin in mock thought.

"Guess I'll show you mine, since you showed me yours."

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

You introduce yourself, nothing short of respectful, reaching the hand that was on your chin out to grasp his in a proper handshake.

Joel thinks your name suits you so well that he can't help but give you yet another once over, feeling like a little kid who just snapped the final piece into a jigsaw puzzle.

For the remainder of your shift, you and Joel fall into a consistent rhythm of what you'd like to think is banter, but you're pretty sure he just thinks you're a pain in the ass.

You're also pretty sure he likes it.

He catches the hands of his watch burning on his wrist, and decides that now is probably the right time for him to get out of the haze before he finds himself in real trouble.

Real trouble meaning he steps out of line with Sarah's polished moving itinerary she had emailed him earlier in the week.

"Nice meetin' you, Polly. Should be gettin' on my way." Joel sighs, reaching into denim to fish out his wallet. He slaps a few twenties on the polished wood beside the now damp Coors coaster.

He considers asking you if you accept all payment in your tank strap, but figures that right is only reserved for little old ladies with neon hair.

"Keep the change."

He thinks you deserved a tip after all.

"Nice meetin' you too, Joel the Contractor." You beam as you begin to erase all the evidence of his presence in the elusive bar, "See ya around?"

Joel rises from the squeaky barstool, eyes lingering on you for a few beats. There's a twinge of hopefulness on your features that tells him that you're actually asking if you'd see him again, not just making small talk out of boredom with a vagabond passing through.

Before he answers, he takes in his surroundings once more.

He notices the small waves and smiles thrown in your direction, each pleasantry fished from a different genre of bargoer. Joel decides he was right to feel like he was intruding before.

The bar mimicked an oasis, an escape for a myriad of souls who all wandered different walks of life; all paths leading to you, where you were waiting to pour them their first glass of water after a long trek in the desert.

"Maybe." He nods in your direction, turning on his heel to make his way out of the bar.

He doesn't look back, but he can feel your gaze on him until he crosses out of the oasis and back into the hot air of the July night.

He can't shake the smile on his lips as he drifts down the dust path to the hotel lobby. There was something freeing about being a stranger, something intoxicating about meeting a stranger, and something fulfilling about being somewhere strange. Although he prides himself on being put together — he's had to be every day for the past nineteen years — part of him is relieved he almost ran out of gas, relieved he didn't get a chance to make good on his plans.

He's relieved that even though he'll never see you or that Blondie shirt again, he met the bartender with a shitty nickname in a shitty bar.

But maybe, he's just relieved cause you got him drunk, as evidenced in the sway of his step.

So, Joel treks into the lobby, and pays the fifty nine dollars cash for a one night stay at the Hotel California.

He twirls the key around his ring finger as he heads out to his truck, the sound of the blush colored diamond keychain smacking against his palm the only sound within a twenty mile radius.

He reaches into the back seat to grab his duffle, heading down the breezeway to the row of rooms stowed around the corner, situated on the opposite side of the pink building that housed bar. His footsteps slow when he reaches his room — 101.

"Joel the Contractor!" Although he'd only heard that voice the first time an hour ago, he thinks he might be able to pick it out in a crowd.

There you were, smoke curling from your lips, worn leather jacket that was two sizes too big slouching around your frame as you ashed the burning cherry of your cigarette.

For the first time tonight, he saw you entirely — bright, full eyes beaming under weathered fluorescents.

You wore the same devilish smirk on your Shirley temple stained lips, but this time they were framed by your unruly hair shifting in the hot breeze.

Smooth legs littered with small, yellowing bruises and tiny scars led to scuffed up converse tapping on the concrete as you leaned against the door of room 100.

"Guess I will be seeing you around, neighbor."

a/n: welcome to the hotel california :~) this is the first fic i've written in a while so bare w me! i hope you guys are excited to meet joel and polly. feel free to come yell at me in my inbox.... EEK!

[endless-ineffabilities]

Endless Astro Fic Recs

a/n: had a bit of fun with this ol' site today. not all of my fics are here yet, and this will be updated as we go. also, I cannot speak as to the accuracy of my choices — if thou doth protest, you're welcome to do so!

main masterlist

Aries ♈️

turning red (modern Daemon)

burn them all for you (Aemond)

heart on fire (Aemond)

as I believe in you (Anakin)

if these walls could speak (Daemon/Aemond)

Taurus ♉️

she is my heart (Daemon)

hmm, a christmas drabble (Aemond)

babydoll (Bucky)

blue eyes so green (Ewan)

Gemini ♊️

chemical override (Ewan)

in the shadow of your heart (Daemon)

so high school (Bucky)

serrated edges (Aemond)

Cancer ♋️

the sapphire and his sun (Aemond)

there's hope for us yet (Anakin)

eclipsed (modern Aemond)

Leo ♌️

be young, be dope, be proud (modern Aemond)

fire like yours (Daemon)

but daddy, i love him (Daemon)

my man of the year (Ewan)

sun (Ewan)

do me no good (Ewan)

Virgo ♍️

casual (modern Aemond)

rogue ink (Daemon)

maroon (modern Aemond)

too soon to tell you I love you! (Ewan)

laundry day (Ewan)

Libra ♎️

backhand stroke (modern Aemond)

tongue in cheek (Tom Bennett)

husband for a day (Ewan)

Scorpio ♏️

sapphire-hearted (Aemond)

le marquis et le moineau (Marquis de Gramont)

dollface (Bucky)

revel in my depravity (Aemond au)

Sagittarius ♐️

diet pepsi (modern Aemond)

the other side of the door (Ewan)

the bolter (Steve/Bucky)

Capricorn ♑️

i will never say that i am in love (Aemond)

labyrinth (Aemond)

without you, i would not be (Daemon)

Aquarius ♒️

national anthem (modern Aemond)

in between (Ewan)

House Mitchell takes on Halloween (Ewan)

Pisces ♓️

lavender haze (Aemond)

the only place (Ewan)

technicolour (modern Aemond)

[newtonsheffield]

you know how people send you pics and ask which anthony or kate is this?

I saw this and had to ask! because it totally tracks with multiple Anthonys 🤣🤣🤣🤣

This for some reason reads as Lavender Haze Anthony going to Benedict’s bachelor party for me.

Him calling Kate, slurring his words like

“Can you come pick me up? Then you can come to my place and we can snuggle.”

“Your place?” Kate chuckled Already grabbing her keys. “Last I checked we lived in the same place. You have a secret flat I don’t know about?”

Kate heard an odd shuffling noise on the other end of the phone before Anthony sighed. “No, I never want to be away from you. You’re the hottest girlfriend I’ve ever had. Sometimes I literally can’t believe you’re with me.”

“Anthony, I’m your wife.” Kate rolled her eyes. Sliding into her car. “How much have you drunk?!”

“What?!”

“I’m pregnant with your child.”

“No!”

“I promise you it’s true.”

“This is the best day!”

[fitrahgolden]

First, if you haven't read the latest chapter of Molly's Lavender Haze, do that now.

Second, if you haven't read any of Lavender Haze, DO THAT NOW.

Third, was I so chuffed to bits at the thought of Kate stealing and wearing Anthony's shirt *before they've even gone on a date* that I forgot to read that last bit of the chapter because I was inspired to make a mood board about the simple yet effective outfit comprised of Anthony's shirt, a black bra, and jeans? Of course, yes.

Kate walking into work like, "If I'm not a fucking Viscountess by the end of this session, I'm questioning all my life choices."

@newtonsheffield

[angelkhi]

lavender haze - a.a

pairing: abby anderson x f!reader

summary: you find yourself at abby anderson's house party, turns out she's a really attentive host. (no outbreak au)

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI) mentions of alcohol (they both have like 1 beer, 2 max) and smoking, abby (she's a warning), owen (he's a trigger warning let's be real), fingering, pet names (pretty girl, baby), semi-public sex, biting, slightly mean abby but like in a hot way.

word count: 2.5k

a little note: first abby fic, low-key nervous👀 not beta’d cause i’m sleepy. part two to little miss sunshine is coming but also i’m being lazy. anyways this is for my fellow girl kissers, love u bye x

A heavy beat thumps through the floor as you move through the crowded kitchen. Flashing lights and grinding bodies envelope your senses and you grip your bottle a little tighter, pushing through the crowd until you're practically tumbling out of the back door.

You round the corner, finding comfort in the shadows and take a deep breath. The evening breeze and cool brick soothes your warm skin, the slight drip of condensation from your bottle dripping down your fingers.

You hadn't expected to spend your Saturday evening amongst a sea of sweaty bodies and smoke, but Ellie had forced your hand, refusing to let you spend another weekend cooped up on the sofa.

The same Ellie who had conveniently ducked out on you the second she saw Dina.

You're no stranger to this type of thing, but recently the solitude of your home has outweighed any desire to go out partying. Even now, in the throes of it all, a minute alone away from it feels good. You tilt your head back, eyes closed trying to extract just a moment of calm from the screeching and playlist of 90's throwbacks.

"Hey stranger."

Even in the dim light you can tell she looks good. A tight black tee stretches across her broad shoulders, moulding to her trim waist. Her arms bulge slightly when she takes a sip from her beer, eyes never leaving yours.

"Hey Abs."

Abby Anderson. Friend by proxy, craved by default. She'd worked her way into your silly little brain the day she met you with her coy smiles and rasping voice. You still remember her knocking at your bedroom door, her body taking up most of the frame as she asked for the code to the wifi.

Why Ellie couldn't just give it to her you don't know, but you couldn't complain. She'd hunched over your shoulder, repeating every digit bsck to you as she typed it into her phone. Then, before she left she gave you a simple friendly pat on the thigh and said “thanks pretty girl” with one of those half tipped smiles.

You spent the nights following face down in your pillow, riding your fingers imagining it was her strap pushed deep inside you.

She continues watching you, skin tinted purple and half concealed by the shadows. The silence stretches to an almost uncomfortable width between you and you clear your throat.

“Nice party.” Maybe you should’ve stayed silent. Abby just shakes her head and smiles, clearly amused by your futile attempts at conversation. For a while she just stands there, nursing her bottle, always watching you.

“You’ve been avoiding me?” She speaks after a moment. Abby loves this, making you squirm. Making statements and disguising them behind questions. You take a special interest in your scuffed shoes avoiding her gaze, because beneath her insufferable cockiness, she’s not lying.

Being in her presence alters your brain chemistry piece by piece until all that swirls around you there is Abby Abby Abby. Still you don’t give her the satisfaction of an answer, settling on shrugging your shoulders instead.

She takes a step closer and suddenly the brick against your back feels icy rather than soothing. You’re trapped beneath her gaze and her slow approach.

“C’mon pretty girl, you not gonna give me an answer?” There she goes again with that pretty girl. Questions that aren’t really questions. Maybe if she was less everything you’d be able to function like a regular human being around her.

“No apologies? No sorry for making you miss me Abby, huh?” She’s so ridiculously close to you now, making her demands. She’s putting her cards down on the table, waiting, pushing until you pull and unravel the thread between you two.

“What are you doing Abs?” You feel the ghost of her knuckles tracing your arm, leaving a burning fire in their wake. She takes another step closer, until your shoes bump one another.

“Tell me to stop.” She puts her bottle down, resting her now empty palm against the brick, inches above your head. “You tell me right now to turn around and walk back into that party and I will.”

“I-“

She’s everywhere. In your dreams when you sleep, on your mind when you wake. And now she’s here. In the flesh. She smells like pine and alcohol, sweet with a bitter edge, grounding you in what you’re struggling to believe is reality. Your words die on your lips. Of course you don’t want her to leave, you’d do just about anything to make her stay.

“Hm, that’s what I thought.”

Her broad nose nudges your cheek, cold against your burning skin. She presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips, a taunting smirk lighting up her features as you keen for more. Her forefinger and thumb grip your chin ever so lightly, eyes trained on your lips, making you stew in the unrelenting tension.

Finally, her lips touch yours, slow and exploring at first, as though she wants to savour the moment as much as you do.

Her hands grip the glass bottle as your hands go lax at your sides, placing it next to hers on the old rusting barbecue.

Then her hands are on your hips, rough yet soft, commanding your movements and giving you the chance to back away all at once. You don’t.

Abby has never been a patient person. She always takes what she wants when she wants it. You can’t complain though, she does it do damn well. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with your body. Abby Anderson is kissing you, not in some dream where she evaporates into the harsh morning sun, not in some shower time fantasy that runs up your water bill. She’s here. Tangible. Kissing you.

She tastes faintly of mint and cheep beer, her soft tongue moving harshly against yours as she all but claims you in a kiss. Her thumbs stroke the soft skin of your stomach, the rough pads of her fingers a source of electricity.

You rest your hands in the nape of her neck, pulling her impossibly closer. Her soft blond hair tickles your fingertips and when she nips your lower lip, your back arches, moulding you perfectly into her.

Her thumb strokes just above your bellybutton, small torturous circles sending your stomach into spasms and your thighs clenching. It’s impossible to stay as calm and collected as her, especially as she pops the button on your jeans, taking her sweet sweet time to pull down the zipper.

Her lips suckle on the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a pretty purple mark. It’s so visible, unable to be hidden by your shirt. No matter where you go tonight, everyone will know that Abby Anderson has claimed your body. Not that she didn’t already own your mind and soul.

Her rough fingers, tracing the your damp cotton panties, not giving your enough pressure to truly feel her. But she’s there. So close to where you need her.

“Please.” Your voice is quiet and hoarse, every function of your being focused on getting Abby to touch you. You desperately push your hips into her, gasping from the small bit of pleasure that’s not nearly enough to give you relief.

She pouts at you, removing her hand entirely and you wonder how she could be so cruel and give you so much at the same time.

You’re surprised you don’t fold there and then, that single touch enough to have you needling against her lips. She presses her fingers against your sensitive clit, rubbing in small circles, trailing down to your sipping hole and back up. She keeps you like that for a while, on the edge of pleasure, desperate and doe eyed all for her.

Maybe it’s the way you whisper her name like a prayer, or the soft dazed glint in your pretty eyes, but she relents sliding a finger inside of you right to the knuckle, pressing her lips against yours to quieten your soft sounds.

You grip the tight material of her shirt, anchoring yourself to her as you get lost in her taste, her scent, her sounds.

“More. Please Abs. Need to feel you.” She didn’t think it would take so little to get you babbling like this, half way to sinking into her like a rag doll. She presses another of her digits into you, groaning as your tight wet channel greedily sucks her in.

“You’re so good for me baby.” Her lips are warm and soft against your cheek when she pecks you, a stark contrast to the images she has of you floating around her head, or the way her hand moves between your legs.

“Gonna let me stretch you open, ruin this perfect little cunt?” Another demand. One that has you clamping down on her. You nod, the only words on your lips her name. Abby Abby Abby over and over.

The pads of her fingers nudge something inside of you when she curls her fingers, palm smacking your clit with the force of her thrusts. She actually chuckles when your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth opens. You look so pretty like this, bent to her will.

She alternates her thrusts, keeping you panting from her unforgiving pace one moment and whining from the slow grinds the next.

But it’s not enough for her, for either of you. Her hands make quick work of helping you yank your t-shirt up and bra down, exposing you to any prying eyes.

The image would startle anyone, Abby’s build frame hunched over you, her hand down your trousers as she sucks at your exposed breasts, barely concealed by the shadows, not even 10 steps from the porch.

"Such perfect tits." The light breeze picks up slightly, brushing over your sensitive nipples, wet with Abby's spit.

“Abby, fu-uck” Your voice breaks off into a harsh moan when her teeth sink into your flesh. It’s barely enough to hurt, but it leaves a small mark, like her own personal claim on you. You buck your hips further into her hand, almost buckling when the rough callous of her thumb presses against your clit.

She has some type of power over you. The kind where your brain takes a while to catch up with the rest of you, leaving you to blurt out stupid things.

“Imagined you fuckin me dumb on your strap, making me take it.” Your breath catches in your throat when her wrist flexes, changing her angle slightly. “Feels so good.”

A triumphant grin breaks out on her face and she tilts her head slightly, swallowing down her own moan.

"You think about me when you're playing with this pretty cunt of yours?" She whispers, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Don’t go all quiet on me now.”

You’re a babbling incoherent mess, bent to her will. Your body moves as one with hers, your lips move when she tells you, your brain turns to mush as she wishes. In this moment you’re hers. All you can do is nod.

“Did you leave your door open on purpose? You want me to catch you lookin so pretty with your ass in the air, huh? Whining my name like a bitch?” There’s a condescending edge to her voice that spurs you on more than you’d like to admit.

Any initial embarrassment you’d felt is washed away the instant you realise that she had enjoyed it just as much as you. Abby Anderson enjoyed perving on you as much as you enjoyed the thought of her using you into the mattress.

“You love it don’t you, knowing I watched you fuck yourself.” You can’t contain the whine that bubbles up and out of your throat, paying no mind to the fact that someone could be listening.

She laughs again.

“Yeah, you fuckin do.”

You rest your hands on her stomach, her muscles rippling beneath your fingers with each precise movement. You let your hands roam, wondering if she'd let you pin her down and rub your puffy clit against each perfectly sculpted ridge.

"Abby!" a voice calls from somewhere around the corner, "Abs where are you?"

Your head turns quickly, seeking out the disembodied voice in the dimly lit garden. You should push her away, maybe pull your shirt down and have some decorum. But of course she’d never let you, instead pressing her body closer to yours, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

“No no no, eyes on me, thats it pretty girl.” Her fingers grasp your chin, forcing your eyes away from where the vaguely familiar voice had called out to her.

The sound of her fingers fucking into your messy cunt is downright filthy, drowned out only by the spike in music when someone steps outside. You grip her braid when she hunches over, tongue flicking at your nipples again. Her lips are soft yet torturous when she suckles on them, pulling wanton moans from you.

She hooks her fingers, grinding her palm down on your clit, shifting her other hand from your chin to your lips, muffling your cries.

“He doesn’t get to see you like this.” Your nails dig into her biceps when her pace becomes bruising. “C’mon baby, use me, cum all over my hand.”

You have no choice to comply. There’s no way you couldn’t when you’re practically riding her hand, her thick fingers so perfectly hitting every spot you need them. She pushes her palm flat against your sensitive clit, teeth scraping lightly over the marks on your tits and you’re done for.

You press your hips into her hand, riding out your orgasm as the world becomes a little hazy, a slight ringing in your ears as you all but gush all over her palm.

Gazing up at her barely illuminated face, she looks about as wrecked as you feel. Her pretty cheeks are tinted pink and her lips are a swollen cherry red. She looks so pretty like this. A slight bit of jealously sets in your stomach when you consider anyone else seeing her like this. It’s stupid but it should be for you and you only.

She presses her sweet lips to yours, letting you grind down on her once more and removes her fingers from your wrecked panties. The kiss is messy, the two of you moaning into each others mouths like there isn’t a party going on a few feet away.

She pulls back, only slightly, enough to take in your half lidded gaze and swollen lips. Her thumb traces your bottom lip as she mutters under her breath "fucking Owen," listening to him call out her name but making no effort to move.

When his voice grows closer she steps away from you, sighing. He's not going to let up. She tentatively pulls your shirt down and helps you fix your trousers, pressing small kisses to your cheeks.

"Come find me later, yeah?" It's not so much a request as it is a command. One you find yourself easily obliging to.

Then she's gone, stepping into the glow of the purple lights, surrounded by tendrils of swirling smoke from someone's cigarette. She follows Owen for a few paces and pauses.

She's nonchalant when she turns to you and presses her fingers to her tongue, sucking your slick from them with a barely there smirk.

You watch as she follows Owen inside, leaving you slumped against the wall, jeans unbuttoned, body just as hot as when you stepped outside.

in conclusion i love my wife 🫶🏾 (also hc/drabble recs are open for now 😘)

[aphroditesdoll]

faiiry’s fic reccs!

disclaimer: these are mostly nsfw/smut, you’ve been warned. mdni.

characters: abby anderson, shane mccutcheon, ellie willams.

a/n: i think all of these writers are amazing but i’ll rate my top favorites at the bottom! :)

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚

abby anderson 🐇🍒🍀

- suprise visit by atomicami

- sweeter than candy by elsdolly

- will you let me show you by angels4abby

- loosen up by ourautumn86

- size kink abby by wrtinginblood

- dating bestfriends sister! abby by millersaurora

- bsf! abby anderson by dollyhao

- my kind of love by zombholic

- trash talk by gracieheartspedro

- pregnant w/ abby (can’t remember by who)

- texts w/ doctor! abby by eightstarr

- come over by ourautumn86

- you’re gonna forget she ever existed by sxyiva

- lavender haze by angelkhi

- 30 minutes by ourautumn86

- special snapshot by atomicami

- yes ms anderson by abbysvictim

ellabs & reader 🐇🍒🍀

- vampire! ellie x werewolf! abby by coeurify

- pretty little things by angelkissiies

- ex! ellabs x fem! reader by beforeimdeceased

- nerd! abby gf! ellie x fem! reader by abbyscherry

- ellabs hogwarts au by savannahsdeath

ellie williams 🐇🍒🍀

- 1 million subscriber special by catfern

- try it on by moncherellie (w audios)

- crybaby by beforeimdeceased

- you love it when i play with you by ourautumn86

- god forgive me by baptismbaby

- one of your girls by lovelettersfromluna

- consume by beforeimdeceased

- sweet tooth by beforeimdeceased

shane mccutcheon 🐇

- rich stress by ourautumn86

- puppy love by ourautumn86

my top 3: suprise visit, sweeter than candy, and puppy love!

a/n: WE NEED MORE SHANE!! why is ourautumn86 the only one i see writing her??? i wrote some of these usernames so much they’re saved in my keyboard now. anyway i mainly wrote this so i can go back to my favs! will be updating probably constantly <3

[amethystarachnid]

maybe a prequel to let you know how Tony and y/n ended up with four kids? 🤭, just wanna focus some more on the two of them before the kids

IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION???? OF COURSE YESSSSS!!!! 🥹😍 this family is so perfect!!!

CHRISTMAS MORNING - prequel

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.6k

ᯓ★ Summary: the story of how you and Tony ended up with four kids

ᯓ★ TW(s): some spicy scenes

ᯓ★ Part I | Part II | Part III

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 private jet touches down in Paris just as the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink, orange, and lavender. From your seat, you can already see the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the distance, its golden lights shimmering like a beacon. The sight takes your breath away, and Tony, seated next to you, notices immediately.

“Wait until you see it up close,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “The Maldives were nice, but Paris… Paris is the city of love. It’s going to ruin you for every other place.”

“You’re the one ruining me,” you tease, turning to face him. “This is over the top, even for you. Who takes a honeymoon after the honeymoon?”

He grins, that classic Stark smirk that’s equal parts confidence and mischief. “I do. And you love it.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s not wrong. From the moment you said “I do” just a few weeks ago, Tony has made it his mission to ensure that your life together starts with nothing short of pure magic. First, there was the extravagant wedding, an intimate yet elegant affair with just the right mix of family, friends, and glamour. Then came the Maldives—a week of turquoise waters, white sandy beaches, and lazy mornings spent in each other’s arms.

And now Paris.

By the time you’re whisked away in a sleek black car to the hotel, the city’s energy is already wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Tony is at your side, his hand resting on your thigh as he points out landmarks through the window, his excitement almost boyish.

The car pulls up in front of a building so grand it looks like it was plucked from a dream. The Hôtel Plaza Athénée, with its iconic red awnings and ornate façade, is breathtaking. But it’s not until you step inside the suite that you truly understand the extent of Tony’s planning.

The room is enormous, with high ceilings, opulent chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer an uninterrupted view of the Eiffel Tower. A bottle of champagne sits chilling on the marble-topped bar, and a trail of rose petals leads from the entrance to the massive bed draped in silk sheets.

“Tony,” you breathe, turning in a slow circle to take it all in.

He watches you with a satisfied smile, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Too much?”

“It’s perfect,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. “Good. Because you deserve perfect.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his eyes. “You know, you’re setting the bar really high for the rest of our marriage.”

“Good,” he says, his lips brushing against yours. “Because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

The next few hours pass in a blissful haze. You toast to your new life together with champagne, your glasses clinking softly as you sit on the plush sofa and watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle in the distance. Tony insists on feeding you strawberries dipped in chocolate, and you can’t help but laugh at his exaggerated attempts to be suave.

Eventually, the city outside calls to you, and you find yourselves wandering hand in hand through the streets of Paris. The air is cool but not cold, and the city feels alive in a way that’s almost tangible. You stop at a small café for espresso and pastries, and Tony spends the entire time gazing at you like you’re the most captivating thing in the world.

“Stop staring,” you say, trying to fight back a smile.

“Can’t help it,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. “I married a goddess.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in his tone makes your cheeks flush.

The night ends back at the hotel, where Tony pulls you onto the balcony. The Eiffel Tower looms large before you, its lights casting a golden glow over the city. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“This,” he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. “This is exactly how I imagined it. You and me, in Paris, with the rest of the world fading into the background.”

You turn in his arms, your hands resting on his chest. “You’re such a romantic. I never would’ve guessed.”

He chuckles, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Your laughter is muffled by his kiss, slow and deep and filled with every unspoken promise you’ve made to each other.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of soft Parisian rain tapping against the windows. The room is still dim, the heavy curtains keeping the early light at bay. Tony is already awake, propped up on one elbow as he watches you with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning, Mrs. Stark,” he says, his voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply, your own smile matching his.

He leans down to kiss you, and you lose track of time, the rain outside becoming a soothing soundtrack to the soft, lazy morning you spend wrapped up in each other.

Eventually, hunger pulls you out of bed, and Tony insists on ordering room service. When the knock comes at the door, he’s shirtless and grinning as he wheels in a cart laden with croissants, fresh fruit, and enough coffee to keep you both buzzing for hours.

“Breakfast in bed,” he announces, setting the tray down on the bed between you. “Because I’m the perfect husband.”

“Perfect, huh?” you tease, taking a sip of coffee. “What happened to ‘genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’?”

He smirks. “Retired the playboy title. I’ve upgraded to devoted husband.”

The day unfolds in a series of moments so perfect they feel almost unreal. You visit the Louvre, where Tony pretends to critique the art in exaggerated tones that have you laughing so hard you can barely breathe. You stroll along the Seine, stopping at little shops and buying ridiculous souvenirs, including a beret that Tony insists you wear for the rest of the day.

That evening, he surprises you with dinner at Le Jules Verne, the Michelin-starred restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower. The view is spectacular, but it’s the way Tony looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters—that truly takes your breath away.

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” he asks, his voice low and sincere.

“Only about a hundred times,” you reply, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

“Not enough, then,” he says, reaching across the table to take your hand.

By the time you return to the hotel, Paris feels like it’s become a part of you—its magic, its beauty, and the love you’ve shared here all weaving themselves into the fabric of your story.

As you lie together in the dark, the Eiffel Tower’s lights casting a soft glow through the curtains, Tony pulls you close, his arms warm and strong around you.

“You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “Someday, when we have kids, I’m going to tell them all about this trip.”

You smile, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “What are you going to tell them?”

“That it was the start of everything,” he says softly. “The moment I realized there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy.”

Your heart swells at his words, and as you drift off to sleep, you know without a doubt that this is the beginning of a love story for the ages.

The days in Paris seem to blur together in a dreamlike haze, each one more romantic and enchanting than the last. Tony insists on showing you everything—whether it’s the iconic landmarks or the hidden gems only locals seem to know about. He pulls out all the stops, making sure every moment feels like something out of a fairytale.

One afternoon, you visit the Sacré-Cœur in Montmartre, climbing the steps hand in hand as the city sprawls out beneath you in all its beauty. Tony stops halfway up to pull you into his arms and kiss you, not caring about the crowd around you. When you reach the top, he wraps an arm around your waist and points out landmarks in the distance, his voice filled with excitement as if he’s seeing it all for the first time too.

“You see that?” he says, pointing to a small café nestled in a nearby street. “We’ll grab a coffee there before heading back. Locals swear by it.”

“You’ve done your homework,” you tease, leaning into him.

“Only the best for Mrs. Stark,” he replies, kissing your temple.

From there, the two of you wander through the cobbled streets of Montmartre, stopping to admire street art and musicians performing on the corners. You share a crepe from a tiny stand, laughing as Tony tries (and fails) to eat it without getting powdered sugar all over his shirt.

“Worth it,” he says, brushing the sugar off with a grin.

That evening, you stroll along the Seine as the sun sets, painting the water in golden hues. Tony takes you to a bookshop filled with ancient, leather-bound tomes and buys you a vintage copy of a French poetry collection, insisting that you read it to him later even though your French is rusty at best.

“You’ll butcher the pronunciation,” he jokes, tucking the book under his arm. “But it’ll still be sexy.”

The laughter, the stolen kisses, the endless affection—it’s all a reminder of how much you love each other and how lucky you are to have found this kind of happiness.

On your fifth day in Paris, you return to the hotel suite after a long day of exploring, expecting to collapse onto the bed and rest your aching feet. But the moment you step inside, you freeze.

The room has been transformed.

Dozens of candles flicker softly, their golden light casting a warm glow over the space. Flowers are everywhere—roses, peonies, and lilies arranged in elegant bouquets on every surface. A bottle of champagne sits chilling in an ice bucket next to two crystal flutes, and soft music plays from hidden speakers.

You turn to Tony, your eyes wide. “What’s all this?”

He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Just thought we’d end our Paris trip with a little extra magic.”

“Tony…”

“You deserve it,” he says simply, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist. “Every candle, every flower, every second of happiness—I want you to have it all.”

Your chest tightens with emotion as you lean into him. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now, come on. Let’s toast to us.”

You sit together on the plush sofa, sipping champagne and letting the weight of the day melt away. Tony is as charming and witty as ever, making you laugh until your sides ache. But there’s also a softness to him tonight, a quiet vulnerability that makes you fall in love with him all over again.

As the champagne flows, the conversation grows quieter, more intimate. You talk about your future together, the life you’re building, the dreams you both have for the years to come.

“I can’t wait to see you as a dad,” you say softly, your head resting on his shoulder.

He chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “Oh, I’ll be the fun parent, no doubt about it. You’ll be the one who makes sure they eat their vegetables and do their homework.”

“And you’ll be the one teaching them how to hotwire a car,” you tease.

“Exactly,” he says with a grin. “We’ll balance each other out.”

The night stretches on, and as the candles burn lower, you find yourselves tangled together on the bed, the rest of the world fading away. Tony is all soft whispers and gentle touches, his love for you shining in every movement, every kiss.

The next two days pass in a blissful haze, though the knowledge that your time in Paris is coming to an end lingers in the back of your mind. You make the most of every moment, revisiting your favorite spots and indulging in one last round of pastries and wine.

Finally, the day comes when you have to leave. The flight back to Miami is bittersweet—you’re excited to return to the villa, but saying goodbye to Paris feels like leaving a piece of your heart behind.

As the plane takes off, Tony reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers. “We’ll come back,” he promises, his voice soft. “Maybe for an anniversary. Or just because. Paris will always be here for us.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, a contented smile on your lips. “I love you,” you whisper.

He turns to press a kiss to your hair. “I love you more.”

When you finally arrive back at the villa, the familiar warmth of home wraps around you like a comforting embrace. The memories of Paris stay with you, though, lingering in the air like the scent of roses and champagne.

And as you fall asleep that night, nestled in Tony’s arms, you can’t help but feel like this is just the beginning of a love story that will last a lifetime.

A month later, life in Miami has settled into a blissful rhythm. The villa feels alive with the love and laughter you and Tony share, the memories of Paris still fresh in your mind. You’ve spent the last few weeks unpacking souvenirs, teasing Tony for his over-the-top beret collection, and finding new ways to love each other in the quiet moments of daily life.

But lately, you’ve noticed something different. Subtle changes that make you stop and think. The fatigue you’ve been brushing off as jet lag doesn’t seem to fade, and you’ve had a few mornings where you’ve woken up feeling queasy. At first, you dismiss it—stress, the heat, maybe a stomach bug. But as the days pass, a quiet suspicion grows in the back of your mind.

It isn’t until one morning, when the smell of Tony’s coffee turns your stomach, that you realize you need answers.

With Tony busy in his workshop, you sneak out to the nearest pharmacy and pick up a pregnancy test. The drive back feels surreal, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. Once home, you lock yourself in the bathroom, staring at the little plastic stick as if it holds the key to your entire future.

And then it happens.

Two lines.

Your breath catches in your throat, and tears spring to your eyes as the realization washes over you. You’re pregnant.

The moment feels too big to contain, and you sit there for a while, holding the test and letting the joy sink in. When you finally compose yourself, your thoughts immediately turn to Tony. How will you tell him? He’s going to be thrilled—you know that much. But you want to make the moment as special as he’s made every moment for you.

An idea begins to form, and soon you’re rushing around the villa, gathering supplies and making calls. By the time Tony emerges from his workshop that evening, everything is ready.

He walks into the living room, his T-shirt smudged with grease and his hair a charming mess. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, glancing around. “What’s all this?”

The room is bathed in soft candlelight, with a trail of rose petals leading to the dining table. On the table sits a small box wrapped in gold paper, alongside a plate of Tony’s favorite dessert.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady as your heart races.

His eyebrows lift, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Another surprise? You’re spoiling me, Mrs. Stark.”

“Just sit,” you urge, gesturing to the chair.

He does as he’s told, his curiosity evident. “What’s the occasion?”

You smile, your hands trembling slightly as you hand him the box. “Open it and find out.”

He gives you a playful look but tears into the wrapping with childlike enthusiasm. Inside, he finds a tiny pair of baby booties—soft, white, and impossibly small. His hands freeze, and his eyes widen as he stares at the booties.

“Wait…” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks up at you, his expression a mixture of shock and awe. “Are you…?”

You nod, tears filling your eyes. “We’re having a baby, Tony.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words. And then he’s on his feet, pulling you into his arms with so much force you let out a surprised laugh.

“We’re having a baby,” he repeats, his voice full of wonder. “I’m going to be a dad?”

“You’re going to be a dad,” you confirm, your hands clutching the back of his shirt as he holds you close.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face. “You’re amazing. Do you know that? You’re absolutely amazing.”

You laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks. “You had a little something to do with it.”

“Yeah, but you’re doing the hard part,” he says, dropping to his knees in front of you. He presses his hands gently to your stomach, even though it’s still flat. “Hey, little Stark. It’s your dad. Just wanted to say… I love you already.”

Your heart swells as you watch him, his usual bravado replaced by a tenderness that takes your breath away.

“Tony,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

He looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’m going to take care of you both. Whatever you need, whenever you need it—I’m here.”

Over the next few days, Tony’s excitement only grows. He dives headfirst into research, ordering books on pregnancy and parenting, and even designing a state-of-the-art baby monitor. He starts asking you a million questions—Are you eating enough? Are you getting enough rest? Do you need anything?

One evening, you catch him talking to your belly again, his voice soft and full of love.

“So, here’s the deal,” he says, his hand resting gently on your stomach. “You’re going to have the best mom in the world. Seriously, she’s amazing. And me? Well, I’ll do my best not to embarrass you too much. But I can’t make any promises.”

You watch from the doorway, your heart melting at the sight.

“Are you giving our baby a pep talk?” you ask, stepping into the room.

Tony looks up, grinning. “Just getting a head start. Never too early to bond, right?”

You laugh, sitting beside him on the couch. “You’re going to be an incredible dad, you know that?”

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “Only because I have you by my side.”

As the weeks pass, the reality of your pregnancy begins to sink in. You and Tony start making plans—converting one of the spare rooms into a nursery, discussing baby names, and dreaming about the future.

One night, as you lie in bed together, Tony traces lazy patterns on your arm, his voice soft and thoughtful.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply, smiling. “What do you think?”

He grins. “If it’s a girl, she’s going to have me wrapped around her little finger from day one. And if it’s a boy… well, I’ll teach him everything I know about being a genius billionaire.”

You laugh, resting your head on his chest. “Either way, they’re going to be loved beyond measure.”

Tony presses a kiss to your hair. “That’s a guarantee.”

In the quiet moments like this, you feel the weight of your happiness, the love you share with Tony expanding to make room for the new life you’re creating together. And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but think that this is the beginning of the greatest adventure yet.

The months of your pregnancy pass like a whirlwind, a beautiful blend of preparation, excitement, and moments of quiet connection between you and Tony. From the moment you told him the news, he’s been by your side for every step of the journey, making sure you feel loved, supported, and cared for in every possible way.

It starts with the nursery. One morning, Tony wakes you up with a mischievous grin and a blueprint in hand.

“Alright, future Stark,” he says, pointing to the paper. “Your nursery is going to be the coolest room in the house. Scratch that—the coolest room on the planet.”

You roll your eyes fondly, propping yourself up on the pillows. “Tony, it’s a baby, not a Stark Expo exhibit.”

“Details,” he says, waving a hand. “Look at this. Adjustable crib height. Temperature-controlled walls. And, of course, a soundproof system so I can build without waking the baby.”

“Let’s start with painting the walls,” you suggest, laughing.

He’s relentless in his enthusiasm, though, and over the weeks, you watch as the nursery transforms. The walls are painted in soft, neutral tones—gentle creams and grays, perfect for the baby whether it’s a boy or a girl. Tony can’t help but add some of his signature flair, installing a ceiling full of tiny twinkling lights to mimic the night sky.

“It’s so they’ll always have stars to look at,” he explains one night, pulling you into his arms as you both admire the room.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

The gender reveal happens a few months later, and true to your style, you decide to keep it intimate—just the two of you. You’ve both been careful to avoid finding out the baby’s sex during the ultrasounds, wanting to make the moment special.

One evening, you sit on the villa’s balcony, the ocean breeze ruffling your hair as the sun dips below the horizon. Tony has set up a simple cake with neutral frosting, and as he brings it over, you can’t help but feel a nervous excitement flutter in your chest.

“Are you ready?” he asks, holding the knife out to you.

You nod, your hand trembling slightly as you both cut into the cake together. As the first slice falls away, the inside reveals a soft pink color, and your breath catches in your throat.

“It’s a girl,” you whisper, tears springing to your eyes.

Tony lets out a breathless laugh, pulling you into a tight hug. “We’re having a daughter.”

The rest of the evening is spent basking in the joy of the news. Tony pours a sparkling apple cider for the two of you, and you sit together under the stars, imagining what your little girl will be like.

“She’s going to be brilliant,” Tony says, leaning back in his chair. “Beautiful, like her mom. And probably a handful, like her dad.”

You laugh, placing a hand on your growing belly. “We’ll name her something strong. Something that fits her.”

Over the next few months, as your belly swells and your connection to the baby grows, the name “Cora” keeps coming up in conversation.

“It’s classic, but not too common,” you say one night, lying in bed as Tony traces lazy circles on your stomach.

“And it has a nice ring to it,” he agrees.

Eventually, it feels like the name was always meant for her. Cora Stark.

Tony talks to your belly every chance he gets, his voice soft and full of wonder.

“Hey, Cora,” he says one evening, resting his head on your bump. “It���s your dad. I can’t wait to meet you. Just so you know, you’ve already got me wrapped around your little finger. And your mom? She’s a superhero, so you’re in good hands.”

The sweetness of his words never fails to make you smile. He’s even more protective than usual, refusing to let you lift a finger. You catch him researching everything from the best prenatal vitamins to baby-proofing techniques, and his dedication warms your heart.

As your due date approaches, the anticipation becomes almost unbearable. The nursery is ready, filled with soft blankets, tiny clothes, and toys Tony couldn’t resist buying. You spend your days nesting, organizing and reorganizing the drawers, while Tony hovers nearby, insisting on carrying anything heavier than a feather.

Then, one warm evening, it happens.

You’re in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner, when a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen. You freeze, your hand going to your belly as the knife clatters onto the counter.

“Tony,” you call out, your voice trembling.

He’s at your side in an instant, his eyes wide with concern. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I think… I think it’s time,” you say, clutching his arm as another contraction hits.

The next few hours are a blur of activity. Tony keeps his cool—barely—helping you to the car and driving to the hospital while simultaneously calling the doctor, Pepper, and every other person he thinks might need to know.

When you finally reach the delivery room, he’s by your side the entire time, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this,” he says, his voice steady even though his eyes are filled with emotion. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

And then, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the first cries of your baby girl.

“She’s here,” Tony whispers, his voice breaking as the doctor places the tiny bundle in your arms.

You look down at her, tears streaming down your face as you take in her tiny features—the soft tuft of hair, the little fingers that curl around yours.

“She’s perfect,” you whisper, your voice full of awe.

Tony leans over, pressing a kiss to your forehead before gazing at his daughter with a look of pure adoration.

“Hi, Cora,” he says softly, his finger brushing her cheek. “I’m your dad. And I love you more than anything.”

In that moment, with Cora in your arms and Tony by your side, the world feels complete. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of is right here, wrapped in the love you share as a family. And as you hold your daughter close, you know this is only the beginning of a beautiful new chapter.

Bringing Cora home for the first time is a surreal experience. The nursery, once so pristine and untouched, now feels alive with her presence. You carry her into the house, cradled in your arms, while Tony hovers beside you, holding the diaper bag as if it contains fragile glass. He’s been unusually quiet since leaving the hospital, his eyes never leaving Cora’s tiny face.

When you step into the nursery, the soft twinkling lights on the ceiling cast a warm glow over the room. You place her in the crib, a tiny bundle wrapped snugly in a pink blanket, and just stand there for a moment, your heart swelling with love.

“She’s really here,” you whisper, brushing a hand over her downy hair.

Tony leans over the crib, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief. “She’s so small,” he murmurs. “How is she even real?”

“She’s half you,” you tease, looking up at him. “Of course she’s perfect.”

He smirks, though his voice softens as he says, “She’s more you. That’s why she’s perfect.”

From the very first night, it’s clear that Cora has Tony wrapped firmly around her tiny, delicate fingers. She lets out the smallest whimper, and Tony is already out of bed, rushing to her side.

“Tony,” you murmur sleepily, watching him through half-closed eyes as he leans over the crib, gently picking her up.

“She needs me,” he insists, rocking her gently in his arms.

“She’s probably just fussing in her sleep.”

He shakes his head, looking down at her with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “She needs her dad.”

And that’s how the nights go. While you’re the one feeding her, Tony is always right there, handing you bottles, adjusting her blanket, or just staring at her like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

By the end of the first week, you’re both running on very little sleep, but Tony seems to have developed a superhuman ability to function despite it. You, on the other hand, aren’t quite as lucky. One morning, you’re sitting on the couch with Cora in your arms, trying to keep your eyes open, when Tony appears with a tray of breakfast.

“Eat,” he commands, setting the tray in front of you. “I’ve got her.”

You blink up at him, too exhausted to argue. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he says, carefully scooping Cora into his arms.

You watch as he starts pacing the room, humming softly to her. It’s a completely different side of Tony than the one the world knows—the billionaire playboy, the genius inventor. Here, he’s just a dad, utterly devoted to his little girl.

Over the next few weeks, his devotion only deepens. He insists on being part of everything, from diaper changes to bath time. At first, he’s all thumbs, fumbling with the snaps on her onesies and nearly dropping a bottle during one of her feedings.

“You’re a genius, and you can’t figure out baby clothes?” you tease, watching as he wrestles with a stubborn button.

“Hey,” he shoots back, narrowing his eyes. “This is complicated engineering.”

But it doesn’t take long for him to get the hang of it. Soon, he’s a pro at changing diapers, even inventing a gadget to make the process faster.

“See?” he says proudly one afternoon, holding up the contraption. “Efficiency is key.”

“Tony,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Sometimes you just have to do things the old-fashioned way.”

“Not in this house,” he declares, grinning.

Cora, for her part, seems to adore her dad. She has a way of calming down the moment she’s in his arms, her tiny hand clutching his shirt or his finger. Tony takes every little coo and gurgle as a sign of her brilliance.

“She’s communicating,” he tells you one evening as she babbles happily in his lap.

“She’s just making baby noises,” you reply, amused.

“No, she’s trying to say something. I think she’s trying to say ‘Dad.’”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tony, she’s three weeks old.”

“Genius genes,” he counters, grinning.

Despite his confidence, there are moments when you catch him looking a little overwhelmed. One night, as you’re getting ready for bed, you find him sitting in the nursery, holding Cora close to his chest.

“Hey,” you say softly, leaning against the doorframe.

He looks up, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I just… I want to get everything right, you know? I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You won’t,” you assure him, sitting beside him and resting your head on his shoulder. “You already love her more than anything. That’s what matters.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around both you and Cora. “She’s going to be amazing,” he murmurs. “Just like her mom.”

As the weeks turn into months, you start to settle into a routine. Cora’s personality begins to shine through—she’s curious, always wide-eyed and alert, and she has a smile that could light up the entire villa.

One afternoon, as you’re sitting in the living room, Tony pulls out a small black notebook and starts scribbling furiously.

“What are you doing?” you ask, cradling Cora in your arms.

“Baby Stark’s first invention ideas,” he says without looking up.

You laugh. “Tony, she’s not even sitting up yet.”

“Exactly. I’m getting ahead of the game.”

Moments like these make you realize how deeply in love you are—not just with Tony, but with the life you’ve built together. Watching him with Cora, seeing the way he lights up when she’s in the room, fills you with a sense of peace you’ve never known before.

And when Cora falls asleep at night, nestled in her crib under the twinkling lights, you and Tony steal moments for yourselves.

One night, as you’re lying in bed together, Tony wraps an arm around you and pulls you close.

“Can you believe we made her?” he asks, his voice soft with wonder.

You smile, resting your head on his chest. “It’s hard to believe sometimes. She’s so perfect.”

“She is,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your hair. “And so are you.”

You fall asleep that night with his arms around you, your heart full of love for the little family you’ve created. It’s not always easy—there are sleepless nights and moments of exhaustion—but through it all, one thing remains constant: the love that binds you, Tony, and Cora together.

Cora as a toddler is an absolute whirlwind of energy and discovery, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s just beginning to babble actual words, and while most of them are jumbled sounds only you and Tony can interpret, she’s already mastered a few favorites: “Mama,” “Dada,” and, of course, “No.”

Tony is hopelessly, utterly smitten with her. If she had him wrapped around her finger as a newborn, she now has him tied up in a full bow, and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

One morning, you find him sprawled out on the nursery floor, Cora perched on his chest like she owns him. She’s giggling uncontrollably, her tiny hands patting his face as he makes exaggerated silly noises.

“Stark Industries meeting canceled, I assume?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in hand.

Tony tilts his head to look at you, his face smeared with what looks suspiciously like mashed banana. “This is more important,” he declares, grinning. “I’m raising the next CEO.”

Cora claps her hands at the sound of his voice. “Dada!” she exclaims, the word coming out loud and clear.

“That’s right,” Tony says, beaming. “Say it again. Come on, kid, show your mom who your favorite is.”

You laugh, setting your coffee down and crossing the room to join them. “She loves us equally,” you point out, scooping Cora into your arms.

Cora doesn’t seem to care about the argument, instead turning her attention to your hair, which she grabs with surprising force.

“She’s got your strength,” Tony says, sitting up and brushing banana off his shirt.

“And your flair for chaos,” you counter, wincing as you gently pry her fingers away from your hair.

Despite her mischievous streak, Cora is endlessly sweet. She loves to hand you things—blocks, books, occasionally random objects she’s found on the floor—and say “Here!” in her high-pitched little voice. Tony, of course, takes every offering as a priceless treasure.

“Thank you, princess,” he says one afternoon when she toddles up to him with a crumpled napkin. He acts like she’s just handed him a gold bar, holding it up to the light and examining it with mock seriousness.

“Tony,” you say, laughing, “it’s trash.”

“Not to her, it’s not,” he says, slipping the napkin into his pocket as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Cora’s curiosity knows no bounds. She loves exploring every corner of the villa, her little feet pattering on the marble floors as she goes from room to room. Tony has taken it upon himself to baby-proof everything, but he still follows her around like a hawk, ready to scoop her up at the first sign of trouble.

One day, you find the two of them in Tony’s workshop, Cora sitting on the floor with a pile of colorful wires in front of her.

“Tony,” you say, raising an eyebrow, “is that… safe?”

“They’re not plugged into anything,” he assures you, crouching down next to her. “See? Harmless.”

Cora picks up a wire and holds it out to him. “Here!”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, taking it with a grin. “You’re a natural.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. The two of them are thick as thieves, and it’s clear that Tony treasures every moment he spends with her.

Cora’s vocabulary grows quickly, and every new word is cause for celebration. When she says “love you” for the first time, you both nearly melt on the spot.

It happens one evening as you’re sitting on the couch, Cora snuggled between you with her favorite plush bunny clutched in her arms.

“Cora,” Tony says, leaning close to her, “do you know how much Dada loves you?”

She looks up at him with wide eyes, then tilts her head. “Love you!” she chirps.

You gasp, your hand flying to your mouth. “Did she just—?”

“She did,” Tony says, his voice thick with emotion. “She said it!”

“Love you!” Cora repeats, this time reaching out to pat his cheek.

Tony pulls her into his arms, holding her close as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too, princess,” he says softly.

Watching the two of them together fills you with a sense of joy that’s hard to put into words. Tony has always been larger than life, but with Cora, he’s different—softer, more grounded. He’s still the genius billionaire you fell in love with, but now he’s also a dad, and he takes that role just as seriously as he takes everything else in his life.

There are countless little moments that make your heart swell. Like the time Tony taught Cora to say “yes” by offering her cookies every time she got it right. Or the time he built her a tiny rideable car, complete with her name painted on the side.

“She’s one,” you pointed out as he presented the car to her. “She can barely walk, let alone drive.”

“Early start,” he said, unbothered.

And then there’s bedtime, which has become a ritual of its own. Tony insists on reading her a story every night, even when he’s exhausted from work. Cora’s favorite book is one about a bunny who goes on adventures, and she lights up every time Tony does the voices.

“One day, you’ll go on adventures too,” he tells her as he tucks her in. “But for now, your only job is to sleep and dream big, okay?”

“Dada,” she says sleepily, reaching out for him.

He stays by her side until she drifts off, his hand resting gently on her back.

Afterward, you find him standing in the nursery, looking down at her with a look of pure love on his face.

“She’s everything,” he says quietly, turning to you. “How did we get so lucky?”

You smile, wrapping your arms around him. “I ask myself that every day.”

Life with Cora is a constant adventure, filled with laughter, love, and moments of pure magic. And as you watch her grow, you can’t help but feel grateful for the beautiful family you’ve built together. Tony may have the world at his feet, but it’s clear that to him, Cora is his entire universe—and she always will be.

The first day of school for Cora feels like a milestone for both her and Tony. She’s five years old and practically vibrating with excitement, her tiny backpack filled with everything she carefully picked out for the occasion: pencils, crayons, and a little notebook with bunnies on the cover.

Tony, on the other hand, is vibrating with nerves.

“She’ll be fine,” you assure him for the tenth time that morning as Cora spins in circles by the door, already dressed in her new outfit.

“But what if she’s not?” Tony protests, watching her like she’s about to walk into battle. “What if some kid’s a jerk to her? Or what if she doesn’t like her teacher? Or—”

“Dada!” Cora calls, cutting off his spiral. “Let’s go!”

Tony sighs, giving you a helpless look. “She’s so little,” he says quietly.

You reach for his hand, squeezing it. “She’s ready. And so are we.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he manages to pull himself together as you drive her to the school. When it’s finally time to say goodbye, Cora gives each of you a kiss on the cheek and marches into the building like she owns it.

“She’s going to be a CEO one day,” Tony mutters as he watches her go.

“Just like her dad,” you reply, smiling.

Time flies after that. Cora thrives at school, coming home every day with stories about her friends and the things she’s learned. Tony makes it a point to be there for every milestone, from her first science fair to her first school play, where she confidently announces to the entire audience that her dad “builds robots that save the world.”

By the time she’s ten, Cora is a perfect mix of you and Tony: sharp, curious, and endlessly confident. She has her dad’s knack for problem-solving and your steady kindness, and you couldn’t be prouder of the person she’s becoming.

And then one day, everything changes.

You’re standing in the bathroom, staring at the little test in your hand, your heart racing. Two lines.

“Tony?” you call, your voice trembling slightly.

He appears in the doorway a moment later, his face immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

You hold up the test, your lips curving into a smile. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, processing the words. Then his face lights up, and he pulls you into his arms, laughing in that carefree way that makes your heart swell.

“We’re having another baby,” he says, like he can’t quite believe it.

Cora takes the news better than either of you expected. When you sit her down to tell her, she gasps, her eyes going wide.

“I’m going to be a big sister?” she asks, her voice filled with awe.

“That’s right,” you say, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Are you ready for the job?”

She nods vigorously. “Yes! I’ll teach them everything I know!”

It’s not until the ultrasound that you discover the truth: you’re having twins.

Tony’s jaw drops when the doctor says the words, and for a moment, he’s uncharacteristically silent.

“Twins,” he finally says. “As in… two babies?”

“That’s usually what it means,” you tease, though you’re just as stunned as he is.

From that moment on, the chaos begins. Tony throws himself into preparing for the arrival of the twins, turning one of the spare rooms into a nursery with military precision. He builds matching cribs, installs baby monitors, and even designs a twin stroller that’s sleeker and more high-tech than anything on the market.

Cora, meanwhile, is fully invested in her role as a big sister. She helps you pick out baby clothes, suggesting everything from tiny bow ties to onesies with rocket ships on them.

“You know they’ll be babies, right?” you say one afternoon as she holds up a miniature suit.

“I know,” she replies confidently. “But they’ll grow into it.”

The day the twins are born is nothing short of extraordinary. You’ve never seen Tony more nervous—or more excited. When Alex and Howard finally arrive, tiny and perfect, Tony is instantly smitten. He holds each of them like they’re the most precious things in the world, his voice soft as he murmurs words of love and promises to protect them.

Cora is equally enchanted. She insists on being the first to hold them, her eyes wide as she cradles Alex in her arms.

“He’s so small,” she whispers, her voice filled with wonder.

“That’s because he’s a baby,” Tony says, smiling at her.

She rolls her eyes, already slipping into her role as the older sibling. “I know that, Dada.”

The first days at home are a blur of feedings, diaper changes, and sleepless nights. Tony is a natural, juggling the demands of two newborns with the same ease he handles billion-dollar deals. Cora does her best to help, fetching bottles and rocking the twins when they cry.

“They like me,” she says proudly one afternoon as she sits between their bassinets, singing softly.

“Of course they do,” you say, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re their big sister.”

Life with twins is chaotic, but it’s also filled with moments of pure joy. Like the way Tony lights up every time one of them coos or how Cora insists on reading them bedtime stories, even though they’re too young to understand the words.

“They’re going to be geniuses,” Tony declares one evening as he holds Alex in one arm and Howard in the other. “Just like their dad.”

“And their mom,” you add, smiling as you watch him with the boys.

Cora, sitting nearby with her favorite book, looks up and grins. “And their big sister!”

The event is one of Stark Industries’ annual galas, and this year, Tony insists on making it a full-family affair. It’s the first time you’ve attended one of these with the kids in tow—until now, events like this were reserved for just you and Tony while the children stayed home with their trusted nanny. But the twins are four now, and Tony seems to think they’re ready.

“They’re not ready,” you say as you adjust the hem of your dress, already picturing Alex and Howard tearing through the banquet hall like twin hurricanes.

“They’ll be fine,” Tony says with his signature confidence. He’s seated on the edge of the bed, fixing his cufflinks. “It’s good PR. The Stark family, united. The kids will charm everyone.”

“Howard bit Alex yesterday because he didn’t want to share a crayon,” you remind him.

Tony waves you off. “It’s a gala, not an art class. No crayons, no problem.”

Meanwhile, Cora, now 14 and perpetually exasperated by her younger brothers, is leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. She’s dressed in a sleek black dress that makes her look far older than she is, her hair pulled back in a way that Tony has already called “unnecessarily mature” twice.

“They’re going to ruin it,” she says, crossing her arms.

“You’re not helping,” you tell her with a pointed look.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” she replies, smirking.

Getting everyone ready for the event is an ordeal in itself. The twins are surprisingly cooperative during bath time, but when it comes to getting dressed, it’s chaos. Howard refuses to wear the tiny bow tie you picked out for him, while Alex insists on wearing mismatched socks.

“You can’t see the socks under his shoes,” Tony says, clearly taking Alex’s side as he kneels down to help him into his little suit jacket.

“It’s not about the socks,” you reply, exasperated. “It’s about setting a tone. If we let them win now, they’ll think they can get away with anything.”

“They already think that,” Cora mutters under her breath, earning a sharp glance from you.

Eventually, you manage to wrangle everyone into their outfits. The twins look adorable despite their protests, and Cora looks effortlessly elegant in a way that makes you realize just how quickly she’s growing up.

“Alright, team,” Tony says as you all pile into the car. “Here’s the plan: we walk in, smile, mingle, and don’t touch anything breakable. Got it?”

“Got it,” Alex says, but you can already see the mischievous glint in his eyes.

The gala is held at a luxurious hotel downtown, the kind of place with chandeliers that probably cost more than your car. As you step into the grand hall, you’re immediately greeted by a sea of familiar faces—board members, investors, and socialites, all eager to shake Tony’s hand and coo over the children.

Cora stays close to your side, her expression polite but bored. The twins, on the other hand, are a bundle of energy, bouncing between you and Tony as they take in the glittering surroundings.

“Look at the big lights!” Alex exclaims, pointing at the chandelier above.

“Don’t climb it,” you say automatically, earning a laugh from Tony.

The first hour goes surprisingly well. The twins stick close, charmed by the endless parade of hors d’oeuvres and the fact that everyone keeps calling them “little gentlemen.” Howard even manages to say “thank you” without prompting when a waiter hands him a tiny plate of macarons, and you catch Tony beaming with pride.

But then the novelty starts to wear off.

“I’m bored,” Alex announces, tugging on Tony’s jacket.

“Me too,” Howard adds, his voice edging toward a whine.

“Okay,” you say, crouching down to their level. “What if we play a game? You two are spies, and your mission is to stay as quiet and sneaky as possible. Can you do that?”

They nod enthusiastically, though you’re not entirely convinced.

Meanwhile, Cora has found a corner to sit in, her phone in hand.

“Cora,” Tony says, frowning. “You’re at a gala, not a texting marathon. Put the phone away.”

She rolls her eyes but complies, slipping the phone into her clutch. “Fine. But if they break something, it’s not my fault.”

It doesn’t take long for the twins to push the boundaries of their “spy mission.” You catch Alex attempting to sneak a second macaron off a waiter’s tray, and Howard is dangerously close to climbing onto the stage where the band is playing.

“Alright,” Tony says, swooping in to scoop Howard up before he can make it past the first step. “Time for a Stark family meeting.”

He gathers everyone in a quiet corner, crouching down to look the twins in the eye. “Listen, guys, I know this isn’t as exciting as, say, Disneyland, but this is important to your mom and me. Can you stick with us for a little longer?”

“Okay, Dada,” Howard says, his small voice earnest.

Tony ruffles his hair. “That’s my boy.”

The evening continues with only minor hiccups. Alex spills a glass of water on a chair, and Howard tries to play hide-and-seek under one of the tables, but overall, it’s manageable. Cora even manages to crack a smile when one of Tony’s colleagues tells her she looks just like him.

“Poor kid,” Tony says later, his voice low as he leans toward you.

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow.

By the time the event starts winding down, the twins are visibly tired, their earlier mischief replaced by yawns and sleepy eyes. Cora looks ready to leave too, though she’s done an admirable job of keeping her brothers in check.

As you gather your things and prepare to head out, Tony wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“See?” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We survived.”

“Barely,” you reply, though you can’t help but smile.

On the drive home, Alex and Howard fall asleep almost immediately, their heads resting against each other. Cora sits quietly, her phone back in hand but her expression content.

Tony looks over at you, his eyes soft. “We did good, didn’t we?”

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “Yeah, we did.”

As chaotic as the evening was, it’s moments like these—together as a family—that make it all worthwhile.

The night Estelle is conceived feels like something out of a rom-com that turns unexpectedly steamy. Cora is 16 and fully immersed in her own teenage world, juggling her social life, school, and extracurriculars like a pro. The twins, at six years old, are finally at a stage where they’re not constantly climbing the furniture or attempting to build rocket ships out of household appliances.

That night, the twins are having a rare sleepover at a friend’s house, and Cora has locked herself in her room with her homework and noise-canceling headphones. The house feels unusually quiet—peaceful, even—which is an anomaly in the Stark household.

Tony takes full advantage of it.

You’re in the kitchen, finishing the dishes after dinner, when Tony sneaks up behind you. His hands slide around your waist, and he presses a kiss to your neck.

“What are you doing?” you ask, though you’re already smiling.

“Enjoying the silence,” he murmurs, his lips trailing along your skin. “And my incredibly hot wife.”

You laugh, swatting at him with the dish towel. “Tony, I’m doing dishes.”

“They’ll be here tomorrow,” he says, turning you around to face him. There’s that mischievous glint in his eyes, the one that still makes your heart skip a beat after all these years. “But this moment? It’s fleeting.”

Before you can respond, he picks you up and carries you—dish towel and all—upstairs to your bedroom, where the evening takes a decidedly romantic turn.

A few weeks later, you start noticing the signs. You’re more tired than usual, food smells are suddenly a little too strong, and Tony catches you crying over a commercial for baby diapers.

“You okay?” he asks, concerned, as you wipe at your eyes.

“I’m fine,” you say, though the realization is starting to dawn on you.

The next morning, you take a pregnancy test. And then a second. And a third, just to be sure.

“Holy crap,” you whisper, staring at the two pink lines.

You decide to tell Tony that evening. He’s tinkering in his workshop when you walk in, holding a tiny pair of baby socks you picked up earlier that day.

“What’s this?” he asks, looking up from his project.

“You’re going to be a dad again,” you say softly, holding out the socks.

Tony’s reaction is immediate—he stands so quickly that his chair nearly topples over. “Wait, are you serious?”

You nod, tears in your eyes.

His face breaks into the widest grin you’ve ever seen. “Oh my God,” he says, pulling you into a hug. “We’re having another baby?”

“Yes,” you laugh, overwhelmed by his enthusiasm.

He drops to his knees in front of you, pressing his hands gently to your stomach—even though there’s no bump yet. “Hey, little one,” he says softly. “It’s me, your dad. You’re going to love it here, I promise. Just wait until you meet your mom—she’s the best.”

When you tell the kids, their reactions are predictably chaotic.

Cora is thrilled. At 16, she’s mature enough to appreciate the idea of a new sibling without feeling jealous. “Oh my God, another one?” she says, laughing. “Are you guys trying to build a basketball team or something?”

The twins, however, are a different story.

“What?” Alex says, his eyes wide. “A baby?”

“Where’s it gonna sleep?” Howard demands. “In our room?”

You kneel down in front of them, trying to explain. “The baby will have its own room, just like you guys do. And you’ll still have plenty of time with me and Daddy.”

“But babies cry,” Alex points out, looking skeptical.

“And poop,” Howard adds, wrinkling his nose.

Tony steps in, crouching down beside you. “True,” he says, nodding seriously. “But babies also think their big brothers are the coolest people on the planet. This baby is going to look up to you two like superheroes.”

That seems to win them over—at least for now.

As the months go by, the pregnancy becomes a family affair. The twins take their role as big brothers-in-training very seriously, often offering to help carry things or pat your belly to “say hi to the baby.” Cora is your right-hand girl, stepping in to help whenever the boys get too rowdy or you need a moment to yourself.

The gender reveal is a quiet, intimate moment at home. You and Tony decide to keep it simple, opting for a cake that reveals the gender when you cut into it.

When the knife slices through the frosting and you see pink inside, you both freeze.

“A girl,” Tony says, his voice soft with wonder.

“A girl,” you repeat, tears welling up.

The twins cheer because cake is involved, and Cora just smirks. “Called it,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Cora,” Tony says later that evening, as the two of you are lying in bed. “What do you think of the name Cora?”

“What?” you ask, laughing.

“Just kidding,” he says, grinning. “But seriously, do we have a name yet?”

It takes weeks of brainstorming, vetoing each other’s suggestions, and poring over baby name books, but eventually, you both land on a name you love: Estelle.

“It means star,” Tony says one night as he presses a hand to your now-round belly. “And that’s what she’ll be. Our little star.”

The day Estelle is born is as chaotic and beautiful as you’d expect. Tony is a nervous wreck during labor, pacing the room and muttering to himself about whether the hospital’s equipment is up to Stark standards.

But the moment he holds her for the first time, everything shifts.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion as he looks down at the tiny bundle in his arms.

When the kids come to visit the hospital, Cora is smitten immediately, cooing over Estelle like a proud big sister. The twins, however, are a bit more cautious.

“She’s so small,” Alex whispers, peering at her from a safe distance.

“Can we keep her?” Howard asks, looking genuinely concerned.

“Definitely,” Tony says, grinning.

Bringing Estelle home is a new kind of adventure. The twins are constantly vying for a turn to hold her, Cora is your go-to babysitter when you need a break, and Tony is completely wrapped around her tiny finger from day one.

“She’s our last, right?” you ask one night as you watch him rock her to sleep.

“Definitely,” he says, though there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You give him a look, and he laughs softly. “Alright, alright. She’s our last. I’m good with this chaos level.”

And as you sit there, surrounded by the beautiful, chaotic family you’ve built together, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world.