#I need muses to write 😂

[wordswhisperinthedark]

if my fics would like to actually cross the finish line rather than staring at it from 2cm away— that would be great

[covenofagatha]

Any chance you'd write Agatha x reader fic where Agatha is a teacher/professor but reader looks up to her & also has a crush & Agatha notices it. Maybe some slight manipulation, mommy issues etc etc 😂

I'm so sorry this took so long to write 😅 this one's from November and I apologize to everyone else who submitted requests months ago, I promise I am working on them and I will get to them sooner or later

Shoutout to the two teachers who I would do anything for and may have been used as some inspiration for this one (also I have no clue how this one got so long and I really hope it's good)

The power she holds

You're Agatha's TA for her History of Witchcraft class and you're more than happy to help with whatever she needs

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: manipulative Agatha, mommy issues, massive praise kink, fingering, slight mommy kink, oral (barely)

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna

“Good morning,” you say with a knock on the open door to Professor Harkness’s office. She glances up from her seat at the desk and gives you the hint of a polite smile, beckoning you in with a hand. 

You plop down at the desk in the back of the room, the one closest to hers, and your backpack hits the ground with a thud. 

“You’re here early,” she muses, typing something on her computer without looking at you. 

But your cheeks still grow hot. She hasn’t said anything about your punctuality so far, even though you always try to get to her class at least ten minutes before it starts. Not because you want to impress her or get her to notice you or anything. You’re just being a good Teacher’s Assistant. 

Agatha Harkness was your teacher last semester in History of Witchcraft, and when she sent out applications for TA’s for the spring, you had jumped at the chance. You had gotten one of the highest grades in her class and often attended her office hours, so you had gotten pretty close to her, as far as teacher-student relationships go. 

You would never tell her this, but you strived for her approval. You didn’t try half as hard in your other classes, partly because they were easy, but there was also something about getting validation from her that made it all worth it. 

Your relationship with your mother is tense, with you never feeling like you were good enough for her, so you know where it comes from. It’s happened before, with older female teachers, where you would neglect everything else just for a chance for them to tell you that they were proud of you. 

But it’s a little different with Agatha, because of how attractive she is. She’s also incredibly smart, and when she looks at you, it’s like she really sees you, and that makes you warm inside. 

You know that she likes you, at least more than the average student, but you were still surprised when she had picked you to be her TA.  

It’s only a week into the semester and she hasn’t had you do anything yet. Her class is held on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and both Monday and Wednesday this week, you’ve just been sitting next to her desk while she lectures. 

You’re thankful that she’s not bogging you down with work, you already have enough of it in your other classes, but you wish she’d give you something to do so you could feel like you’re being useful. Except you know there isn’t really anything she needs help with yet, with it being the start of a new class and the students haven’t had any real assignments for you to help with. Seems like you’ll just have to wait.

She mutters something to herself while moving to flip through papers on her desk and you frown. “Is there anything you need help with?” You ask and she turns to face you finally, but in the process, knocks over her mug of coffee. It spills all over the floor and she jumps up to avoid getting wet. 

“Fuck,” she curses under her breath just as the door opens and students start to come in. She looks at the mess on the floor and then up at you, and you spring into motion. 

You practically run down the hallway to the bathroom, pump the lever on the paper towel holder about ten times, and rip the bundle off, ignoring the confused looks from the other girls washing their hands. You sprint back and drop to your knees to soak up the coffee. 

“Who knew I could get my assistant to do other things than just help me grade papers?” Agatha asks rhetorically, voice light and teasing, but you blush. 

After you clean the floor and stand back up, you shake your hair out of your face and nod to her now-empty mug. “Do you want me to get you some more coffee?” 

Agatha’s eyes light up and she holds out the cup for you to take. You ignore the electricity that flares up under your skin when your fingers brush against hers. “Black with two sugars,” she says and you nod. 

She smirks before straightening up and walking to the front of the classroom to begin her lecture while you throw the wet paper towels away in the trash and go down to the student union to the coffee machine. 

You tap your foot impatiently while the maker whirrs to life and starts to spit coffee into the mug. Your nose wrinkles; you’ve never been a big coffee drinker, and even the smell gets to you sometimes. 

Finally, the cup is full and you add in two sugars, stirring delicately, and then carefully walking back to Agatha’s classroom. She’s talking about the Valais Witch Trials in Switzerland, the first systematic European Witch Hunt. You make sure the door closes quietly behind you before walking over to place it on the lectern where she’s standing. 

She pauses to watch you before leaning in close and whispering, “Thanks, hon. Appreciate it,” into your ear and you can feel your heart start to pound. Can she see how flustered you get? It’s just a simple thing, barely any praise at all, and yet – you suddenly have lost the ability to think.

“Of course,” you stammer out quickly and then rush to the back of the classroom, back to your desk, where you can breathe without the heat of her body radiating against yours. 

What is wrong with you? Agatha was just being polite, nothing more than that. You’ve seriously got to get your mommy issues under control. 

You pull out your laptop and try to work on stuff for other classes, but you keep getting drawn into Agatha’s lecture. It’s fascinating, the way she talks about historical events, the way she waves her hands around in the air. 

It’s something you didn’t notice last semester while you were in her class, definitely too busy scrambling to write everything that she said down, but now you can appreciate how much she talks with her hands. Her fingers wave around, curling and flexing, adding extra emphasis to what she’s saying, and for some reason, you can’t look away. 

You’re so entranced by her that you’ve completely zoned out, not even comprehending a word of what she’s saying. And then, for some reason, your eyes flick up to meet hers, and you find – much to your surprise – that she’s already looking at you. 

She winks so fast you think you might’ve imagined it. But what you’re not imagining is the rush of heat that floods through your body. You shift in your seat. It’s possible that your appreciation for the professor has grown into more of a crush. 

The class period ends sooner than you think it should, but you haven’t noticed how much time has passed because of how intently you’ve been watching Agatha. You start to slowly pack up your things so that you won’t have to leave before she comes back to her desk. 

And sure enough, you’re just zipping up your backpack when she drops into her chair and heaves a big sigh. 

“You okay?” You ask, repressing a giggle at her theatrics. 

She spins to face you. “Half of those kids are about to turn in god-awful rough drafts for us to look at next week. We’re going to have our work cut out for us, sweetheart.” The pet name turns you to putty and you have to make a conscious effort to regain your thoughts. 

“Well, I’m happy to help in any way you need,” you say before you can think of the innuendo that might be implied, and then inwardly curse. Will she think you’re offering more than what’s professional? 

Agatha just smiles pleasantly and you relax. Of course she wouldn’t. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good weekend, honey. I’ll see you on Monday.” 

You nod in agreement, a bit sad that she’s dismissing you so quickly, but you don’t want to overstay so you leave and go back to your dorm. 

Your thoughts hardly stray from her Saturday and Sunday. 

When the week starts back up again, you’re ten minutes early to her class. She hums a greeting when you open the door but doesn’t look up after, even when you sit next to her. 

“Good weekend?” You ask, trying to make small talk. 

She shrugs. “Just lesson-planning. You?” 

“Oh, yeah, it was all right. Went to the gym, did some homework. Pretty chill.” Agatha does look up at the mention of the gym and runs her eyes over your body, raising an eyebrow in approval. You feel something in your stomach, not entirely unpleasant. 

But she doesn’t say anything else, just turns back to her work and raises her cup to her lips and frowns. She sets down the mug at the edge of the desk closest to you – an invitation. “Be a dear and get me some more coffee?” 

It’s not exactly a question, but there’s no way you’d say no anyway. You jump out of your chair and grab the mug, hurrying to the student union so maybe you can get the drink back to her before class starts. 

“Two sugars?” Agatha asks when you put it down in front of her. She’s still at her desk, only a minute before she has to get up and teach, almost like she was waiting for you. 

“Of course,” you answer and she takes a long sip despite the steam coming off the top. 

She exhales and stands up. “Thanks, hon. You’re the best assistant I could’ve asked for.” And you know she’s just saying that to be nice, an over-exaggeration of course, but it still makes your heart skip a beat. 

On Wednesday, you borrow your roommate’s mug without asking and fill it up with black coffee and two sugars before even getting to Agatha’s class. 

When you place the mug on her desk, her eyes flit up to yours in surprise. “Look at you, sweetheart, bringing me coffee. How thoughtful,” she says, something unrecognizable on her face, and she raises it to her lips to take a drink. When she puts it down, she nods to the mug that’s already sitting there – her mug – which, much to your chagrin, is full. “Why don’t you take that?” 

“Oh, Professor, I couldn’t. I don’t really like coffee anyway,” you say hastily, but she shakes her head, picks it up, and holds it out to you. 

She urges you to take it with a nod. “Try it.” There’s something between the two of you, a thick tension that grows, when you reach out and take it. She watches you slowly lift it up to your mouth and you part your lips around the rim, feeling the hot coffee flood your tastebuds. 

Agatha never breaks eye contact, even when you wince at the bitter taste. You think you’d need at least ten more sugar packets before you’d be able to stomach it. But you swallow it, and her pleased look almost makes up for it. 

“Good girl,” she says in a low voice, and your breath hitches, your mind instantly short-circuiting for a second. She sees it too, but instead of looking disgusted or creeped out by how you react, she looks intrigued, delighted even. 

You open your mouth with absolutely no plan or knowledge of what you’re about to say, but thankfully the door opens and students strew in, taking their seats. Agatha gives you a wink, for sure a wink this time, and stands up, taking the coffee you brought her up to the front of the room with her. 

This time, you force yourself to work on homework for your other classes and don’t allow yourself to get distracted by Agatha or her hands or the way she talks or walks or breathes in your direction –

Agatha says your name and you jump in your chair, almost knocking your laptop off the desk. 

“Yes?” You squeak, completely embarrassed, especially with the thirty-plus undergraduates looking at you. 

Her smirk is gleeful, like she knows what you were thinking about. “I was just telling the class that if they have any questions about the material, that my brilliant TA is more than happy to help them. After all, you did get one of the highest grades in my class, possibly ever. I have no doubt that she can give you exactly what you need.” You’re not sure you could blush any harder, and you hate how you can feel yourself getting wet. 

Is having a praise kink a little too on the nose for a burnt-out gifted child? There’s something about it coming from Agatha that just makes it affect you even more.

“Um, yeah, just send me an email or talk to me after class. I’ll also read your rough drafts for the papers if you want some feedback on them, but they have to be turned in seventy-two hours before the due date,” you add, trying to keep your voice level. You can’t even be sure that she hasn’t already said that information; you haven’t been listening at all. But she nods in approval and you stare at nothing on your computer screen for the rest of the class, willing your brain to work but it just won’t. 

When the period ends, she walks back slowly to where you are and drums her fingers on your desk. You watch with bated breath as she sits in her chair facing you, and her eyes scrutinize you while you try not to squirm. “Thanks for bringing me coffee, honey. I really appreciate it,” Agatha says.  

And so it becomes the routine: you bring her coffee before every class period in a mug that you take from your dorm because you don’t have any, and she praises you each time. You get better at hiding how much it turns you on, which you swear makes her try even harder to get to you. 

She practically purrs one time about how thankful she is that she has an assistant as good as you. Sometimes, it’s all you can do to barely resist going to the bathroom during her class and shoving a hand into your pants because of how worked up she gets you. 

Masturbating after each class also becomes part of your routine. 

But as the semester progresses, so does your workload, both for your classes and hers. Her students flood your inbox with questions asking for clarification on assignments or about the material, and you spend hours on the weekends pouring over essays and giving feedback. Some of them aren’t terrible, while others have you wondering how they even got into college. 

You spend more time after the class talking to Agatha about her pupils, how you watch some of them shop on Amazon the whole time while she teases you about the boys and girls that blatantly check you out inside of taking notes. 

“I’m not really interested in boys,” you say off-handedly one day. 

Agatha raises an eyebrow and leans in. “Oh, really?” But something in her tone makes it sound like she already knew that. 

You nod slowly, wondering if she’s going to drag any more details about it out of you. You wonder if she’ll ask about your type, in which case, would you admit that your type is brunettes old enough to be your mother? 

It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together then, especially for someone as smart as Agatha. 

Thankfully she doesn’t ask, and you don’t volunteer that information. But now you’re curious – what about her? There’s no pictures on her desk, and in the little over a semester you’ve known her, she’s never mentioned a partner, kids, anything. 

Not that it matters. You’re a student, you’re her teacher’s assistant. That is definitely against some rules. 

Plus she would never think of you in that way. 

Except there’s the way that she tells you what a good girl you are for bringing her coffee and getting all your work as her TA done. The way she’s gotten more touchy with you; what first started as a brush of her skin against yours every now and then has turned into a hand on your shoulder, dragging her fingertips down your arm when she walks past you. The way her eyes find yours all the way from the front of the classroom when she’s teaching and says something funny. The wink she gives you when she catches you watching her. 

She has to know what she’s doing, right? 

“Ugh, I don’t have time to go to this fucking meeting,” she groans after class one day, dropping her head into her hands. 

You’re just about to get up and go, currently texting one of your friends about lunch plans, but you immediately look up at the older woman. “Everything okay?” 

She shakes her head, her dark, curly hair falling and blocking her face from view. “I have to go to this department meeting right now, but I need to finish inputting these grades and it’s taking forever.” You know along with History of Witchcraft, she also teaches at least one other class, a general one with a lot more students. 

And you also know that as a TA, you’re not technically allowed to help with what she’s doing right now. But that doesn’t stop you from asking: “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Oh, you don’t want to do this,” she says, the corners of her mouth quirking up, like she’s pushing. Like she wants to see if you’ll offer again.

You look at her earnestly. “I can help. I know how stressed you are, let me take some things off your plate.” 

It doesn’t take much convincing and she looks thrilled that you’re insisting. She stands up with her laptop and puts it in front of you on your desk, bending over so her mouth is right next to your ear, her arm firm against yours. 

You forget how to breathe. She is so close. 

“All you have to do,” she murmurs and goosebumps explode all down your body. You keep your eyes trained on the screen so you don’t accidentally do something stupid. “is copy the grade from the spreadsheet into the portal. The names aren’t in alphabetical order which is why it’s taking so long. This is the last time I have them submit anything like this. I thought it would be easier because the form they filled out automatically inputs their score into this, but there’s no order. Make sense?” 

You nod stiffly. You can feel her hot breath on your ear and it’s driving you crazy. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. Truly, I don’t know what I would do without you,” she says and it almost makes you melt. “And this has to be our little secret, okay? I’m serious, I could get into serious trouble if anyone found out a TA was putting my grades in for me.” 

There’s a good chance you might combust on the spot. “I won’t say anything, Professor,” you croak and you don’t have to look at her to know she’s smirking. 

“That’s my good girl,” she says and it feels like your entire body is on fire. “And please, call me Agatha.” 

She walks away, but her perfume lingers, vanilla and wood and a hint of something darker. Powerful, even. It makes your mouth water and if you close your eyes, you swear you can still feel her presence next to you. You text your friend that you won’t be able to make it to lunch, and lose yourself in the work. 

You don’t even realize how long it’s been until Agatha comes back from her meeting and is surprised to still find you there. 

“Honey, you’re not finished yet?” She asks. 

You blink and look at her, startled. “Oh — yeah, I’m almost done though.” She puts her hands on either side of your body from behind and her head gently rests atop yours while she looks at her computer. You suddenly lose the ability to move, think, and breathe. 

“God, you’re doing so well,” she says, her hands now moving to stroke up and down your arms. Your mind wishes she was saying that in a different context — you’re on your knees for her, fingers inside her and tongue licking at her while she praises you — but you force yourself to snap out of it. “Think you can finish up for me? I really need to get organized for my next class.” 

You swallow hard and your stomach rumbles. One of Agatha’s eyebrows raise, you can see it in the reflection from the screen, like she’s waiting to see what you’ll do. “Yeah, of course,” you finally agree. You can get food after. 

Her hands squeeze your shoulders. “Thanks, hon, you’re the best.” And you’re only too happy to keep working if it gets her to say more of those things. 

Agatha gets much more comfortable asking you to do things that aren’t specifically in your job description as a TA after that. You start putting in all her final grades. You teach a few classes here and there. She consults you for help with project ideas and lesson plans. 

She knows all she has to do is ask nicely, throw in a bit of praise, and you’ll do anything she wants. 

You know she might be using it to her advantage. But the way you feel when she smiles at you and says “There’s my good girl” makes any reservations you have melt away. 

Halfway through the semester, right after midterms happen, you and Agatha are both in her classroom; you’re already getting a head start on homework for next week while Agatha is tapping a pen against her desk and staring at you. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” She asks. It touches you in a strange way, usually she doesn’t bring up life outside of the classroom unless you do it first. 

Maybe she’s starting to like you, too. You pull up your calendar. “Oh, I’m going out tomorrow night with some friends to celebrate surviving midterms. Probably just go to a bar or a club or something.” You glance at her, expecting to find Agatha nodding in approval at a typical college kid’s night out, but instead she looks pissed. 

“You don’t have work you have to do instead?” She says stiffly, and you wonder what caused this change in her mood. 

You shake your head. “No, we’re just getting back into material in my other classes and I’ve already finished grading my half of your midterms. You saw that I put them into the system, right?” 

“Yes,” Agatha admits and looks like she wants to say more, but doesn’t. “Be careful, then.” She gets up out of her chair, your coffee cup in hand, and leaves the room. 

It’s clear she doesn’t want you to be there when she comes back, so you pack your stuff up, feeling completely confused, and start to go back to your dorm. 

You walk through the student union, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, and your stomach sinks when you see her laughing with one of her students and you grit your teeth as jealousy gnaws at your stomach. Her eyes flit to yours, somehow knowing that you’re there, and she gently pats the student’s arm with her hand, nothing more than a casual touch, but you think you might throw up. 

Why are you having this much of a reaction? You shouldn’t be storming off, there shouldn’t be tears stinging your eyes, but it feels like everything is crashing and burning around you. 

For some reason, it feels like Agatha is upset with you, disappointed even. It shouldn’t be a big deal – it shouldn’t, but you can’t stop your thoughts from spiraling. 

Should you go back and talk to her? Should you text her? Maybe you can make it up to her somehow, you’ll bring her two cups of coffee or volunteer to grade all her work, whatever it takes to get her to look at you with the same light she always did, with the same light she just gave one of her undergrads just now. You’re supposed to be special. Agatha is supposed to think that you’re special. 

You’re going crazy. The logical part in your brain knows it. You take deep breaths on your walk and try to calm yourself down, convince yourself that Agatha still likes you. She’s allowed to be nice to other people. It’s okay. 

And yet, anxious thoughts plague your mind the rest of the day, and you spend practically all of Saturday obsessing over every little thing that you could have possibly done wrong. It’s almost enough to make you cancel your plans with your friends, but then you realize that getting drunk might be exactly what you need. 

It’ll at least be a way to loosen up. This semester has been taking its toll on you, with the workload from your classes and all the extra stuff Agatha has you doing for her. Not that you’d complain about that or ever say no to her, but you do often end up skipping lunch and staying up late in your attempts to get your work for her done as quickly and as perfectly as possible. 

Yes, you think, a few drinks couldn’t hurt one bit. You fish around your closet until you find an acceptable outfit, feeling the best you have since yesterday morning, and you’re getting ready when your phone buzzes with a call. 

It’s Agatha. 

Immediately, your stomach erupts with butterflies and your heart starts to pound almost painfully in your chest. 

“Hello?” You ask after you raise the phone to your ear, clutching it close to you like you don’t want to miss a thing she says. 

There’s a moment of silence and you’re about to repeat yourself when she starts talking. “Hey, honey, listen, I’m really sorry to bother you right now, but do you think you could come to my room? I really need some help with the last of the midterms and then putting the grades in.” 

“Oh,” you say, a little crestfallen that this is all she’s calling about, and you weigh your options. You really want to go out with your friends, and some part of you thinks that maybe you can get her back after yesterday. Will she be as jealous as you were if you blow her off for your friends? “Can it wait until tomorrow or Monday? I’m about to go out.” 

Agatha gives a little hum. “I would really like all this stuff to be done tonight.” 

“Agatha, I–” You don’t know exactly where you’re going with it, you’re not sure exactly what to say. Why is it so hard to say no to her? You have every right to, you should toughen up and tell her that you can’t, you’ve already done enough for her, you’re not even supposed to be doing what she’s asking you to do.

“Please, honey?” She asks, so sincerely that it turns your insides to mush. “I just, I really need you right now. I really need your help.” 

You know what she’s doing. You know and it makes you really fucking angry, but also it makes you feel more wanted than you have in your entire life. “Will it take long?” You ask and listen to her relieved exhale. 

“An hour tops,” she promises, and you know it’ll take longer, but you tell her you’ll be there in ten minutes anyway. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, sweetheart. You’re my good girl.” She hangs up and you hate yourself a little for letting her control you so easily, but you still text your friends you’ll be late and head across campus. 

You’re still grappling with the conflicted feelings in your head when you push open the door to her classroom. Agatha’s sitting in her normal spot, legs kicked up on her desk, typing on the laptop in her lap. She looks up at you the second she hears you and smiles. Her eyes rake up and down your scantily-clad body in the dress you picked out to wear for the bar. 

“Sorry to drag you away from your plans, but thank you for coming,” she says. “I’m almost done, I just have a few more papers to grade. Thought it would go quicker if it was the two of us.” 

It’s almost enough to make you furious that she called you all the way over here for just a little bit of work that she easily could’ve done herself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, voice taut with frustration. 

She either doesn’t notice, or just ignores it, and she holds out a small stack of completed midterms. You snatch them and sit down at your desk, stealing a pen from the cup of writing utensils near Agatha. You’ve graded enough of the exams that you don’t even need the answer key and you fly through marking them up before handing them back to her and standing up. 

“Is there anything else?” You ask cooly and she raises an eyebrow at you. It’s not that you intend to sound rude, it’s just the general annoyance at yourself and at her that leaks into your tone. 

“Running off so quickly?” She retorts lightly. “I thought you would stay for a bit, maybe we could order some food or something.” The look on her face shows that she’s expecting you to give in. 

But you scoff. “I have plans. You know I have plans. And for some reason, you made me come here and do work that you would have finished in ten minutes. And now you want to just ‘hang out?’ Why?” 

You’re expecting her to give up the ruse, the pretense. What you’re not expecting is for her to slump down in her chair, eyes falling to the ground. 

“Look, honey,” she starts, and panic spikes through you. Is something wrong? “I’ve just been really stressed lately, and you have been helping me with that so much. You’ve been such a valuable assistant to me, and I deeply apologize if I’ve been taking advantage of that in any way.” 

And now you feel like the worst person ever. “No, no, it’s okay,” you rush to say, and if you were paying closer attention, you might have noticed the glint in her eyes. “I’m happy to help, really. Is there anything else I can do to help you feel less stressed?” 

It’s like you’ve said the magic words. Her head springs up, a smirk on her face. “What all are you offering, sweetheart?” 

You gulp, suddenly feeling like you’re in dangerous territory. “Um, well, I could go get us something to eat, or take some work off your plate, something like that?” 

“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, tossing the options around in her head. Even though you’re standing above her sitting in her chair, you feel like she’s looking down at you. “You really are such a good girl for me, aren’t you? You know, I really should reward you for all the things you do for me.” 

Is it possible for all the air to get sucked out of a room just from one sentence? “Oh,” you start, your throat suddenly dryer than it’s ever been in your life. Surely she can’t be implying… 

Agatha stands up so she’s nose to nose with you and she cups your cheek, running her thumb over your bottom lip. You shiver under her intense gaze and your pulse quickens. It’s like every nerve inside you is vibrating with anticipation. 

You never thought in a million years that this would be happening. You had hoped, of course. “Agatha,” you say softly and she smirks, tugging at your lip, eyes burning into yours. You can hardly see the blue in them. 

“You take such good care of me,” she purrs. “Let me return the favor, honey? It’ll be such good stress relief for me, too.” 

Nodding breathlessly, you can feel the fire stoking to life in your stomach and her hands trace down your body to grab onto your hips, pulling you firmly against her. 

“You’re such a good girl for me,” Agatha murmurs and your cheeks heat up. Can she see the flush creeping down your neck too? 

She leans in, ghosting her lips over yours, and you chase when she pulls away, needing to feel her. “Ah ah,” she tuts. “Why don’t you get on my desk?” 

You throb when she says that and she slides her laptop and papers out of the way so you can hop onto it. Her hands find your thighs, stroking up and down, enjoying the warmth of your skin. Your head is already spinning with want and you can feel the mess between your legs. 

Agatha comes back in and you think she’s going to kiss you, but her head drops down and she presses her lips to your chin. Your head rolls back, giving her more access, and your eyes close at the sensation. 

Her fingers inch more up your thighs, getting closer to the heat at the juncture and you wrap your hands around her shoulders to get her closer. You bury your fingers in her hair as her lips move down your neck and she sucks, making your hips jerk. There’s a livewire under your skin, connecting the pulse point she flicks her tongue against to your pussy and you’re dripping. 

“Agatha, please,” you groan and she chuckles, her hot breath on your skin making goosebumps appear. 

She scrapes her teeth against your naked collarbone. “Please what, honey? Use your words like a good girl.” 

Your hips roll to try and get her to touch you where you need her. “Please – I need you, please fuck me,” you splutter and she smirks into your neck. 

Her fingertips stroke up your underwear and she gasps when she feels how wet you are. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so needy. “God, sweetheart, is this what I do to you? I call you a good girl and you’re dripping for me.” 

“Like you don’t know,” you whine, struggling to get more stimulation. 

Agatha barks out a laugh. “Oh, I do know, honey. I see how much I affect you. How you’ll do anything I ask as long as I give you a little praise. I love it, sweetheart.” 

You should be insulted that she thinks you’re easy, that you just got confirmation she’s been taking advantage of your mommy issues, but you can’t find it in you to care when she slides your underwear over and buries two fingers in you up to the hilt. 

A gasp tears itself out of your throat when she drags her fingers out and thrusts back in, filling you deliciously. “Fuck,” you swear and she sinks her teeth into your shoulder. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” she mumbles and starts to set a slow pace. Your walls grip her, trying to pull her in, and she reaches a thumb up to rub your clit. You clench around her fingers and moan obscenely. 

“Agatha, god, please,” you whimper. “I need more.”

Her grin is wolfish as she takes in the mess you’ve become. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” she says, beginning to go faster, scissoring and twisting and curling her fingers, each movement making you sharply inhale. “You look so fucking pretty like this, honey, you’re taking me like such a good girl. I’m so proud of you.” The praise makes you keen, the tension quickly building in your stomach. You know you’re going to cum embarrassingly fast if she keeps that up. “Say it,” she demands and through the fog in your brain, you can just barely understand what she wants. 

“I’m your good girl,” you cry, hips meeting every thrust, fingers scrambling to hold onto her shoulders for leverage and stability. “Fuck, please, Agatha.” 

Her lips kiss down the expanse of your chest and it’s like fireworks lighting up. Each touch only pushes you further and further towards your release, and you need it more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life. 

“So fucking perfect for me,” Agatha mutters. Your walls pulse around her and she smirks to herself. She has you exactly where she wants you, exactly where she’s been wanting you. “You’re everything I ever wanted. My good girl.” 

“Yes, fuck,” you sob, getting closer, so close you can taste it, you just need a little more. 

Agatha shoves her fingers back inside you as far as they’ll go and curls them so she finds that spot and it makes you moan. She licks up your earlobe, swipes at your clit hard, and whispers, “Mommy’s good girl.” 

And it sends you straight into an orgasm, noises slipping from your lips as you ride through the most explosive one you’ve ever had. She breathes more praises into your ear while still gently moving her fingers inside you and it only prolongs the pleasure you feel. 

How did she know exactly what you needed? 

Once you come down completely, she peppers your face with kisses while you take focus on inhaling and exhaling to slow your racing heart. “You did so good for me, honey, so good,” she says and you smile weakly. 

You examine the professor and see the desire and heat on her face and you know what you have to do. Your fingers release the locks of her hair you were holding onto and fumble with her belt and she helps you undo it and she slides her pants down and kicks them over her shoes. 

Agatha steps back and before you can make a sound of protest, she slinks down into her chair and spreads her legs so you’re able to see the wetness through her underwear, and fuck, she’s almost completely soaked through the fabric. 

As if in a trance, you slide off the desk and drop to your knees in front of her, leaving soft bites up the skin of her inner thigh and getting immense pleasure from the red marks that litter once you’re done. 

You should’ve texted your friends that you weren’t going to make it to the bar at all tonight, but that’s the last thing on your mind when you toy with the hem of her panties and she lifts her ass off the seat so you can take them off. 

“Be a good girl for Mommy,” she says, putting a hand on your head, tangling her fingers in your hair, and leading you to between her legs. 

Your mouth waters at the smell of her and you moan at the taste when you first lick through her folds. Your eyes flick up to watch Agatha’s head loll against the back of the chair. 

“God,” she sighs, looking down appreciatively at you. “You really are the best assistant I could’ve asked for.”

[eobe]

Happy Valentine's Day to you all 🥰✨ARC trooper Echo CT-1409 is CT-1402 today and he's coming for you 😽 Get SHOT! 😎💘

Big shout-out to @lonewolflupe's wholesome Valentine's event 💘 Spread love, send messages, melt and drown in sugar, because you're the most loving and supportive community I've never dared to dream of 🥰

A close up, why it’s Echo, the targets and the inevitable ramble below the cut… 🏹

I always get grumpy and blushing when too much pink, glitter, candy and stuff, but deep inside I can't help myself and yield cuteness overload dopamining 🫠✨

ARC trooper Echo is on duty for this day and he won't do a job without the best and most badass gear! ✨😈 He even borrowed himself a winged sky trooper jetpack and Omega’s bow, but only because he can 😎✨ But Maker, he's allowed, he deserves and it's Echo! 💕

Have a closer look. I never did lighting like this before! 🤩 I don't know if it's accurate – I just thought and tried to imagine of how materials would reflect, how much and where and in which angle 🤯✨

I had fun and some frustration figuring his pose! First, he's with the jetpack, what to do with the legs?

Second, as I'm an archer myself, I wanted to give him a good archer posture, but he has a scomp too! +50 skill, +50 difficulty, +100 badassity. Good thing he can hook in this bow-ring of the Zygerrian design and I'm aware that there are many little inaccurate things to find, but I'm still a drawing Padawan, not a master 😂🫶

Third, angles. Can‘t tell what it is exactly. Something worm's eye view, little mortals on the ground looking up to sweet doom coming down from the aurora skies 🤩✨🧡❤️🩷💜✨

But I‘m actually a proud little drawing Padawan looking at this artwork at all 😱 Echo, you're worth the hours. Fandom, you even more. Get ECHOed, cuties 🫶 And everyone, who sees this! 💘

My headcanon, why it has to be Echo:

(Domino Squad at the Barracks)

Echo: No! NO, I don’t want to! Hevy: Vod, it HAS to be you! Echo: This just... isn’t fair! Droidbait: What‘s your problem, brother – I can’t do it, I‘d manage to get shot with this myself! Cutup: And besides that you‘re not as half as cute as Echo! Echo: (teeth gritted) hrrr… shutup cutup! Fives: Echo, they’re right AND you’re the only one around who has the number CT-140... Echo: (interrupting) YOU are the one who always echoes that were NOT our numbers, not me! Why don't YOU be named "Echo", huh? Fives: (handing Echo the Cupid bow, doing huge puppy eyes) Vod – yes, we‘re not numbers, but being Cupid CT-1402 is actually a good thing and... not matter any numbers, you're just the best of us all. 💕🏹 Cutup: … And you really can’t hand this Droidbait! All: Shut up, Cutup!

Targets, that volunteered 😎💘:

@eclec-tech – Writing owl twin, always having a spicy caf for me, managing to inspire me into colorful dimensions and owling with meee 🧡✨ @clonethirstingisreal – My warmhearted friend, always encouraging 🥰🫶 @vrycurious – One of my most supportive out of the box thinking moots 🤩🫶 Targets, that kind of volunteered 💞👀:

@returnofthepineapple – Sweet Piña 🍍🥰 'STOKED' hehe! @freesia-writes – Cute! 😻 Side eying too loud in the reblog 👀 @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf – Hot chick calling me bb 😽🌹💋 @523rdrebel – hehehe 😏 'can't wait' @littletroggo – Cute moot doing cute art and also ‘can't wait' 🥰✨ @cw80831 – Most proper tagging support! 🤩✨ Targets, that are locked in my crosshair 🤪💞✨:

@ghostymarni – Sweet vod 💗 Queen of Chaos, holding my beer 🍺💘 @wings-and-beskargam – Chaos twin vod 💙🫶🩵 endlessly patient and giving, lovely soul 💘 Targets, that won't get away 😎💘✨:

@lonewolflupe – Double tag, double target, double shot 🤩🏹💖💘 Get ECHOed thoroughly 😏💞🦾 Thank you for everything – you KNOW what I'm thanking you for and will never stop being thankful 🥰 🫠

@foxwithadarkside – no words needed but anyway 😎🏹✨ Muse, art collab witch, badass, quality talk, thank you 💘😽

General volunteering targets: @bixlasagna @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @ladylucksrogue @spaceyjessa @morerandombullshit

[amethystarachnid]

Hey if you're still writing requests, can you plz make one where Tony's kid/s hear him & yn one night (iykyk) and ask what are those noises and randomly popping the question how they were born..?? His responses to questions like this would be epic😂 You can write it however you want... Thanks!

Your recent works "Stuck" and "Prom" were awesome btw

LATE NIGHTS AND LITTLE EARS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, rom-com

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said + family cuddle attack at the end

ᯓ★ TW(s): mild sexual content (but like three spicy scenes, only one more explicit), suggestive humor, and awkward discussions involving young children asking about adult topics

ᯓ★ I've tried being more explicit than usual in the spicy scenes and I dont know how it turned out...

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

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

It starts, like most mornings, with screaming.

Not the horror-movie kind, though. The kid kind. The kind that comes with stomping feet, a door slamming somewhere down the hallway, and the unmistakable crash of a cereal bowl hitting the tile. It’s 7:03 AM. The sun hasn’t even crept through the curtains yet.

“Howard Stark the Second, I swear to god—”

“That was Nova’s fault!”

“Was not! You pushed me!”

You groan, already reaching blindly for Tony beside you, only to find empty sheets and the faint scent of coffee lingering on his pillow. Of course. He’s escaped. Again. Probably hiding in the lab with his AI and his fancy espresso machine while you’re left to referee the Hunger Games: Child Edition.

You throw the blanket off and shuffle toward the disaster zone, feet cold against the marble as you round the corner into the kitchen.

Nova is standing on a chair, her curls sticking up in five different directions, her favorite purple pajamas soaked in milk. She’s holding a spoon like a weapon. Howard is shirtless, pouting, arms crossed like he’s preparing for a legal battle.

And in the middle of the chaos—Tony Stark, billionaire-genius and traitor to mornings—leans casually against the island counter, sipping coffee like this is all just background noise to his suave little world.

You glare at him. “You heard that and didn’t step in?”

He shrugs, holding out your mug like a peace offering. “I figured you’d want to start your day with a warm beverage and the beautiful sound of our children expressing themselves creatively through violence.”

“Tony.”

“Babe.”

He winks at you, all smug and gorgeous in his sweatpants and vintage Black Sabbath tee, and you hate that it still makes your stomach flip. Even after ten years. Even after two kids and zero sleep and more milk-related incidents than you care to count.

You take the coffee, but not the bait. Not yet.

“Go upstairs and change,” you tell Nova gently, brushing milk off her sleeve. “And Howard, you don’t get to push your sister because she took the last Lucky Charms marshmallow.”

“She licked it, Mom.”

“Tony,” you say, not taking your eyes off Howard, “tell your son what we think about food-based revenge in this house.”

Tony takes a dramatic sip of his coffee, then says, “Only if it’s funny.”

You shoot him a look. He puts his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. No food-based revenge. Unless it involves whipped cream and your mother.”

“Tony!”

Howard’s face twists into a grimace. “Ew! Why are you like this?”

Nova screams from upstairs, “I HATE MILK! I NEED A TOWEL!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I am running away. I am joining the circus.”

“You’d look hot in sequins,” Tony muses, setting down his mug. “But I have better ideas. One of them involves locking the bedroom door, and the other involves my mouth—”

The kitchen timer dings before he can finish. You groan.

“Did you make pancakes?”

Tony grins. “Blueberry. I added protein powder. Because I care about your glutes.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you trying to butter me up?”

He takes a step closer, crowding into your space. “Literally and figuratively.”

His hand slides around your waist, his palm warm even through the oversized hoodie you slept in. He leans in, mouth brushing your ear. “Five minutes. Closet. No one will notice.”

You let yourself close your eyes for one beat. Just one. Because god, the man is intoxicating, and he knows it. Always has. You remember what five minutes with Tony Stark can do to your sanity—and your vocal cords.

Then Nova yells from upstairs again. “I CAN’T FIND ANY PANTS!”

Tony sighs against your neck. “Our children are a menace.”

“Wonder where they got it from.”

He grins and presses a quick, heated kiss to your cheek before releasing you.

You move like a well-oiled machine through the morning madness. Pancakes are served. Nova is bribed into jeans with the promise of extra syrup. Howard gets a lecture about breakfast table etiquette while sneaking a bite of Tony’s second helping. You pack their lunches while Tony puts their backpacks by the door—only to realize they’ve drawn on them in permanent marker again. There’s glitter in Nova’s hair. A Lego in Tony’s shoe.

Somewhere between tying shoelaces and signing a permission slip, Tony grabs your hand. “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”

You give him a tired but fond look. “Even when I smell like milk and mediates sibling fights before 8 AM?”

“Especially then.”

He steals another kiss—this one longer, deeper—and you don’t fight it. Not even when you hear the twins gagging in unison behind you.

“Gross,” Nova mutters, grabbing her water bottle.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Tony calls as they head for the front door.

“You guys kissed! In front of us! That should be illegal!”

Howard points at his eyes, then at the two of you. “I’m watching you.”

The door closes behind them, the school bus rumbling down the street seconds later.

Silence settles. Blessed, beautiful silence.

You sigh, leaning against the counter. Tony is already beside you again, fingers walking up your thigh. “So. About that closet…”

You snort. “You are incorrigible.”

“And horny,” he says brightly. “Don’t forget horny.”

“I have exactly thirty minutes before I need to be on a Zoom call.”

He glances at the clock. “Thirty minutes is practically a romantic getaway in Stark Standard Time.”

You roll your eyes—but you’re already moving, letting him tug you down the hallway and into the closet. He locks the door with a flourish, spins you into his arms like he’s still the playboy from years ago. And maybe he is, a little. But now he’s your playboy. Your husband. Your chaos. Your partner in pancake crimes and stolen morning quickies.

He tilts your chin up, voice low and sincere this time. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Even in that hoodie. Especially in that hoodie.”

You arch a brow. “Is this where you ask me to leave it on?”

“Oh no, this is where I take it off very, very slowly.”

And maybe it’s not Paris or a penthouse or some wild escapade in Monaco, but in this tiny closet, surrounded by shoes and laundry and the faint echo of your kids’ chaos—you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

---

It’s chaos. Again.

You knew it would be. School pick-up always is. But today? Today is worse.

The moment you pull up in the car, Nova is standing outside the gate, arms crossed, face scrunched into a perfect replica of Tony’s trademark pout. Howard is next to her, holding a half-crushed science project and looking deeply betrayed.

You barely get the car into park before Nova is yanking the door open.

“I’m never speaking to Ms. Rivera again,” she declares, climbing into the backseat with the kind of melodrama that makes you want to laugh and scream all at once.

Howard flops in beside her with a heavy sigh. “She made me sit next to Logan. Logan chews pencils.”

You blink. “Wait—what happened to Ms. Rivera?”

“She said I couldn’t glue glitter on my rocket ship because it’s ‘not realistic,’” Nova huffs. “But it’s space! Space is supposed to be magical!”

“She doesn’t understand the vision,” Howard mutters solemnly.

“Clearly,” you reply, pulling back into traffic. “So, glitter rockets and pencil chewers. Got it.”

As you drive, your phone buzzes. A text from Tony.

bring the tiny chaos goblins to the lab. surprise for them. and for you 😘

You smile despite the traffic, then glance in the rearview mirror. “Wanna stop by Dad’s lab before we go home?”

Nova perks up immediately. “Is Dum-E there?!”

Howard leans forward. “And Butterfingers? And the cool robot arm thing that almost decapitated Dad last week?”

You hum thoughtfully. “All the above. But only if we all agree not to glue glitter to anything inside Stark Industries. Deal?”

Nova hesitates. “What if it’s tastefully applied?”

“Deal, Nova.”

She sighs dramatically. “Fine.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re stepping into the glass-paneled elevator of Stark Tower, kids practically vibrating with excitement. The AI greets you by name—well, greets you politely and then calls the twins “incoming small agents of entropy.” Accurate.

The lab is buzzing, literally. Lights flicker, machines whir, and in the middle of it all, Tony is crouched beside a new prototype—a sleek, four-legged bot that looks like a cross between a puppy and a drone.

Nova lets out a shriek of joy. “YOU MADE A ROBOT DOG?!”

Tony grins, looking far too pleased with himself. “Meet Bark-E. Still in beta. Sometimes mistakes shadows for threats. Or feet.”

As if on cue, the robot dog whirs to life, scans the twins, and starts barking—an adorably mechanical, high-pitched sound that makes both kids dissolve into laughter.

While they chase Bark-E around the lab, Tony comes up behind you, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“You like your surprise?” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple.

“I thought the robot was the surprise.”

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s the kids’ surprise.”

You tilt your head. “And mine?”

He smiles. That slow, wicked one. “You’ll see.”

But not yet. Not while the kids are riding Bark-E like a mechanical bull and trying to convince JARVIS to play Let It Go on loop over the speakers.

After about forty-five minutes, you pry the twins off the robot and promise ice cream at home if they behave on the way out. They do. Barely.

By the time dinner is done—chicken nuggets and mac and cheese, because parenting is survival—and the twins are finally tucked into bed, you’re drained. Exhausted. But also... alive. Somehow, despite the madness of the day, there’s a buzz under your skin that hasn’t gone away since Tony whispered in your ear at the lab.

You’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through emails you’ve already read three times, when you feel him behind you.

His hand slides over your shoulder, down your arm, then rests on your thigh. “They’re asleep.”

You glance up. “Are you sure?”

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear again. “I double-checked. They’re both snoring. Loudly.”

You turn your head slightly. “And you think that means we can just... sneak off and have a moment?”

“I don’t think,” he says, already pulling you to your feet. “I know.”

He leads you to the bedroom, slow and quiet, the way you used to sneak out of galas to find somewhere dark and private. The air shifts the second the door clicks shut. You barely get a word out before Tony’s lips are on yours—hungry, hot, and so very intentional.

“Shhh,” he whispers against your mouth when you let out a soft gasp, already tugging at the hem of your shirt. “We have to be quiet.”

You grin against his lips. “You saying I’m loud?”

He pauses, eyes gleaming. “Sweetheart, we broke the headboard last time.”

You laugh—and he kisses the sound right out of you, backing you toward the bed with that same eager, greedy energy that never seems to fade, no matter how long you’ve been his. Clothes fall away like a ceremony. Hands roam like they’re remembering. Reclaiming.

The sheets are cool beneath you, his skin hot and grounding above you. His mouth drags along your collarbone, your breast, your hip, before he settles where he knows you need him most.

You bite your lip, hard, to keep from making a sound.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your skin, teasing, adoring. “Just like that.”

His tongue moves with devastating precision, and your hands claw the sheets, toes curling, your body trembling as heat builds fast and sharp. You can’t help the little whimper that escapes—and he looks up immediately, smirking.

“You’re gonna get us caught.”

You glare down at him, breathless. “Then stop making me feel that good.”

“No can do, Mrs. Stark.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going, patient and thorough and infuriatingly skilled. When he finally moves up your body, sliding into you in one slow, perfect stroke, your back arches and your fingers dig into his shoulders.

“Tony—”

“Shhh,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “I got you. Just keep it quiet, baby.”

It’s slow. Intense. Torturously quiet.

You’re both holding back—moans swallowed in kisses, gasps muffled in the crook of his neck. Every movement is deliberate, every thrust a silent promise, every brush of his thumb against your clit driving you closer to that unbearable edge.

He mouths your name like a prayer when you come, your whole body shuddering under him. You bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that wants to escape, and he follows moments later, breathing hard, hips stuttering as he releases deep inside you.

For a while, there’s only the sound of your hearts pounding and your breaths syncing up. Then Tony chuckles softly.

“I think we pulled it off.”

You hum sleepily. “Pretty sure Howard talks in his sleep. If he says something weird tomorrow, it’s on you.”

Tony kisses your temple. “I’ll take the blame. Always do.”

He pulls the blanket over both of you, tucking you into his arms like the world outside doesn’t exist.

And maybe, for now, it doesn’t.

Tony’s still catching his breath when you nudge him with your foot. He groans, face buried against your neck like a man defeated.

“Come on,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair. “We need to shower. And put on actual clothes.”

“We just reached post-coital bliss,” he mumbles. “What kind of monster are you?”

You laugh, gently pushing him off of you and rolling out of bed. “The kind of monster who knows our kids have a sixth sense for us being naked and vulnerable. If we don’t cover our tracks now, we’re getting interrogated at 6 AM.”

Tony groans louder, but he follows. Mostly because your naked backside is swaying just enough to motivate him.

“You’re so responsible,” he mutters as you tug him into the ensuite bathroom. “It’s unsettling.”

You turn on the shower, testing the temperature. “And you’re so irresponsible it’s amazing we haven’t been arrested for public indecency.”

“Twice,” he corrects, stepping in behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “We have been arrested. Twice.”

“Right, and who sweet-talked their way out of it both times?”

Tony kisses your shoulder. “My hot, brilliant, morally flexible wife.”

You roll your eyes and lean back into him as the water pours over you both.

Of course, the “quick shower” turns into a slippery, steamy second round—because Tony Stark has zero self-control when your naked body is in arm’s reach and you’re laughing like that, cheeks flushed from the water and the way he touches you like you’re still the only thing in the universe that matters.

By the time you finally drag yourselves out of the shower and into pajamas—Tony in his unnecessarily tight sleep pants and a ridiculous Stark Industries tank top, you in one of his old shirts that practically hangs to your knees—it’s past midnight. The house is still. Blissfully quiet.

You collapse into bed, limbs tangled, hair damp, bodies finally at rest.

And for once… no interruptions.

Until morning.

At precisely 6:47 AM, the bedroom door flies open like a SWAT team raid, and the twins launch themselves into your bed like missiles.

“WAKE UUUUUP!” Nova yells, half on top of your stomach.

Howard dives for Tony, who lets out a strangled grunt as his son elbows him square in the ribs.

“Jesus—ow, okay, good morning, no need to attack the man, I’m delicate—”

“You said we could have pancakes today!” Howard declares, still perched on Tony like a feral cat.

Nova pulls the blanket off you both. “And cartoons! It’s Saturday!”

You blink blearily, groaning as Nova’s icy feet wedge themselves under your thigh.

Tony rubs his eyes and grins at the ceiling. “Why did we have children again?”

“Because we’re masochists,” you mutter.

“Right.”

It’s a typical Stark Saturday for a solid two minutes. Cartoons, demands for pancakes, squirming under the covers. But then Nova freezes suddenly, eyebrows scrunching like she’s solving a mystery.

“Wait… did anyone else hear weird noises last night?”

Tony’s eyes snap open.

Howard squints. “Yeah! Like… thumping. And then Mom made this sound like when you stub your toe but you’re trying not to yell?”

Your soul leaves your body.

“I—I stubbed my toe,” you say quickly. “Exactly. That’s… wow, good ears, buddy.”

Nova isn’t convinced. “And I think I heard Dad say something like ‘oh my god, yes’?”

Tony chokes on air. “That was—uh—I was watching a documentary! About—uh—quantum physics!”

You look at him like really? but he forges ahead with gusto.

“And there was this incredible experiment and I was very passionate about the outcome.”

Nova tilts her head. “Do quantum physics experiments make Mom giggle like that too?”

“Okay!” you say brightly, sitting up. “Time for pancakes! Who wants whipped cream?”

Howard narrows his eyes. “You never offer whipped cream unless you’re distracting us.”

You reach for your robe and sigh. “That’s because I’m always distracting you. It’s called parenting.”

Tony has his face buried in a pillow, quietly laughing like a man on the brink.

Nova crawls up beside him. “Dad. Are you giggling?”

“No, sweetie,” he says through the pillow. “I’m just emotionally overwhelmed by your curiosity.”

Howard frowns thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s ghosts?”

“YES,” Tony says quickly. “Yes. Our bedroom is haunted. That’s what you heard. Definitely ghosts.”

Nova gasps. “COOL.”

Howard’s eyes widen. “Can we set a trap?!”

You grab both their hands and pull them toward the door. “Only after breakfast. And cartoons. And not asking any more questions about last night. Ever. Again.”

They both nod solemnly.

Then Nova whispers to Howard, “I bet Mom and Dad were doing something weird.”

Howard nods sagely. “Yeah. Probably… like taxes.”

Tony leans close to you as you herd the twins out of the bedroom. “That was almost catastrophic.”

You shoot him a look. “Stark.”

He grins, eyes twinkling. “Yes, Mrs. Stark?”

You roll your eyes and turn back to the kids. “Alright, haunted pancakes it is.”

And somehow, despite the mortifying inquisition and suspicious glares from two seven-year-olds, it’s still the perfect kind of morning—chaotic, loud, absurd... and full of love.

Exactly what you signed up for when you married Tony Stark

The rest of Saturday is surprisingly smooth—almost suspiciously so.

You make pancakes. The kids watch cartoons. Tony pretends to “ghost hunt” with Nova using an old thermal scanner from the lab, while Howard builds a pillow fort so structurally sound it could probably withstand a mild earthquake. There are no tantrums, no glitter explosions, no emergency phone calls.

It’s just past lunch when it happens.

You’re sitting on the living room floor, helping Nova braid tiny ribbons into her dolls’ hair, when Howard suddenly looks up from his coloring book with that unsettlingly calm expression he inherited directly from his father—the one that usually means he’s about to ask something that will emotionally derail everyone in a five-mile radius.

“Hey Mom,” he says casually, like he’s asking what’s for dinner. “How did me and Nova come into the world?”

You freeze.

Like… freeze.

Tony, sitting on the couch across from you with a wrench in one hand and a half-disassembled Roomba in the other, slowly turns his head like a man who’s just been caught by a sniper scope.

You meet his eyes. You both silently panic.

Nova doesn’t even look up. “Yeah, I was wondering that too.”

Howard continues like he’s just hitting you with casual Sunday curiosity. “Did we come from a rocket? Or like… a lab?”

You blink. “A rocket?”

“Well, you and Dad are scientists,” he says, shrugging. “So maybe you built us. In the basement. With like, wires and lasers and science juice.”

Nova gasps. “I want science juice!”

Tony chokes. “There’s… there’s no such thing as science juice, baby.”

You clear your throat, trying to regain your footing in the rapidly spiraling conversation. “Okay, so—so first of all, no rockets. Or labs. You’re not robots. You’re not built.”

Howard’s eyes narrow. “So we weren’t assembled?”

“No.”

Tony jumps in. “You were... born. Like regular kids.”

Nova frowns. “How though?”

You and Tony both stare at her like she just asked how to dismantle a nuclear warhead.

Howard leans forward, totally serious. “Yeah. We know it involves, like… bellies. But how’d we get in there in the first place?”

There’s a beat of stunned silence where you mentally prepare to just hurl yourself off the balcony.

Tony puts down the Roomba and stands up like he’s giving a TED Talk. “Alright. So. Listen. This is… this is one of those very important questions that you absolutely deserve an answer to.”

You nod like a hostage. “Yup. Totally important. Super reasonable question.”

Tony points a finger upward, warming up. “But also one of those questions where the answer is like… a very complicated lasagna. With layers.”

Nova’s eyes light up. “I love lasagna!”

Howard looks confused. “What does lasagna have to do with babies?”

Tony continues, completely unfazed. “Well, the top layer—the cheesy, delicious layer—is the part you already know. Babies grow in a special place inside a mommy’s belly called a uterus. It’s like a deluxe baby hotel.”

You’re silently begging him not to keep going.

“And the next layer,” Tony says, gesturing like he's on a cooking show, “is how they get there, which involves… uh… teamwork. From both parents.”

You add quickly, “Teamwork. Loving, adult teamwork.”

Howard squints. “Like… like when you and Dad built the treehouse?”

“Yes!” you say way too fast. “Exactly like that! Teamwork, tools, and a lot of planning.”

Tony nods solemnly. “And some sweat. And maybe a splinter.”

Nova scrunches her nose. “Ew. That sounds messy.”

Howard tilts his head. “But how do you start building the baby?”

Tony glances at you. You glance at Tony. You both realize there’s no way out. So, you go for the parental classic:

“Well,” you say slowly, “when two adults love each other very much—”

Howard’s eyes go wide. “OH MY GOSH. You used magic didn’t you?!”

You nearly sigh in relief. “Yes! Magic. Science magic.”

Tony picks it right up. “Love-powered science magic. That’s exactly it.”

Nova gasps. “Is that why I sparkle when I dance?”

Tony beams. “Absolutely, sweetheart. Full of sparkle DNA.”

Howard looks impressed. “So you and Mom did love-magic teamwork… and then BAM! We happened?”

You clap your hands. “Boom. Nailed it.”

They both nod slowly, processing. And then—just like that—Nova goes back to brushing her doll’s hair and Howard starts coloring again like he didn’t just casually nuke your day with a conversation worthy of wine and therapy.

You exhale, flopping back onto the carpet. Tony collapses beside you a second later.

“That was too close,” you whisper.

“Too close? That was war,” he mutters. “I barely survived the ‘splinter’ metaphor.”

“I hate you for that, by the way.”

He smirks. “You laughed.”

You sigh, reaching over to lace your fingers through his. “I can’t believe we’ve got another ten years of this.”

Tony grins. “Ten years? Sweetheart, we’re gonna be explaining puberty in holograms by then.”

You groan and bury your face in his shoulder.

Nova looks up from across the room. “Do you think babies fart inside the belly?”

You both groan.

Tony whispers, “We’re not gonna make it.”

---

It’s Tony’s idea.

Which should automatically raise red flags. But he’s lounging back on the couch, one arm draped behind you, the other absently spinning a screwdriver between his fingers like a fidget toy, and he says it so casually you almost don’t catch the trap.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

You pause mid-sip of your coffee. “Out… like out where?”

He shrugs. “Nice dinner. Fancy restaurant. Kids can wear shoes that aren’t Velcro. You can wear that red dress that makes me forget my name.”

Nova, sitting upside down on the armchair, perks up. “Can I wear glitter?!”

Howard glances over. “Are we allowed to go to fancy places? We’re loud.”

Tony waves a hand. “We’re Starks. We can go anywhere we want.”

You raise a brow. “That’s exactly the kind of energy that gets us kicked out of places.”

But the idea lingers. It’s been a while since you dressed up for something that wasn’t a gala or charity event or chaos-fueled tech conference. The thought of slipping into something silk and elegant, seeing Tony in a blazer that hugs just right, the kids actually clean and styled and not covered in suspicious playground gunk…

Yeah. You’re in.

Two hours later, the chaos of getting ready is in full swing.

Howard insists on wearing a tie, which turns into a twenty-minute battle against a YouTube tutorial and an uneven knot. Nova is determined to wear glitter tights under her dress, and after some negotiation, you allow it—because she istechnically wearing a dress and real shoes. Progress.

Meanwhile, you slip into the closet, closing the door behind you. The red dress Tony mentioned still hangs in the far corner, mostly untouched since your anniversary dinner last year. It’s sleek, figure-hugging, with a slit up the leg and a neckline that toes the line between elegance and hello there.

You slide it on. It fits like sin.

The door creaks open behind you without warning, and you don’t have to turn around to know it’s him.

There’s a low whistle. “Sweetheart.”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “Too much?”

Tony’s leaning in the doorway, wearing a black suit with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, no tie, blazer cut to absolute perfection. His eyes rake down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time again.

“If we didn’t have kids waiting downstairs,” he says, voice low and already dangerous, “I would lock that door and make you very, very late to dinner.”

You smirk, smoothing your hands down the front of the dress. “We do have kids waiting.”

“I know,” he groans, stepping forward and sliding his arms around your waist from behind. “Why do we have kids again?”

“Because your ego and my hormones teamed up.”

He laughs, presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder, and lets his hands wander a little lower than strictly appropriate for the timeframe. “I love this dress. It should be illegal.”

“You say that every time I wear it.”

“And I mean it every time.”

You manage to escape his hands with a playful swat and make it back downstairs, where the twins are already posing dramatically like they’re attending the Oscars.

“Do we look rich enough?” Nova asks seriously.

Howard adjusts his slightly crooked tie. “I feel like I should own a company.”

Tony grins. “You do. It’s called Starklings, Inc. Specializing in mischief and luxury fruit snacks.”

The restaurant is upscale, candlelit, absurdly elegant—and predictably swarmed by paparazzi the second your car pulls up.

Tony slips out first, offers you a hand like a proper gentleman, and then lifts Nova from the car while Howard walks out like he’s been doing red carpets since birth. You’re met with the familiar onslaught of camera flashes and distant shouts:

“Mr. Stark! Over here—!”

“Is that your family?”

“Mrs. Stark, you look amazing—!”

Tony keeps one hand at the small of your back, the other protectively on Howard’s shoulder. The flashes bounce off his sunglasses, and he leans in close enough for you to feel his grin against your cheek.

“You’re the hottest person here.”

You elbow him gently. “You say that to distract me.”

“I say that because it’s true. And I’m trying very hard not to get handsy in front of the photographers.”

You glance down. His hand has, indeed, slid lower than is publicly acceptable.

“Tony.”

He corrects himself with a smirk and guides you all inside.

Once you’re at the table—a private booth with a view of the skyline—things settle into a surprisingly cozy rhythm. The kids order mocktails with extra cherries. You sip wine. Tony keeps sliding his foot along your ankle under the table like a man with zero shame and absolutely no concern for consequences.

You give him a warning glance.

He winks.

Nova draws a robot on her napkin and tells the waiter she’s going to build one that serves spaghetti. Howard eats his fancy grilled salmon with ketchup. Tony doesn’t stop looking at you the entire night, his hand always somewhere—your knee, your thigh, your lower back when you gets up to help Nova with the bathroom.

It’s subtle. Kind of.

Okay, not subtle at all. But it’s him.

As dessert is being cleared—Nova covered in chocolate mousse and Howard bargaining for another bite of your crème brûlée—Tony leans over and murmurs, “If I don’t get to unzip that dress tonight, I’m going to have a full-blown existential crisis.”

You smile sweetly. “Guess you’ll have to wait until the kids are asleep.”

He groans into his wine glass.

On the ride home, both kids fall asleep in the backseat—Howard drooling slightly, Nova curled up with a strand of her glitter tights stretched over her face like a superhero mask.

You rest your hand on Tony’s thigh as he drives. He glances at you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Best idea I’ve had all month.”

“Dinner?”

“Taking you out. Watching you walk around in that dress. Being reminded exactly how lucky I am.”

You hum, squeezing his leg just enough to make him shift in his seat.

“I hope you’re planning on making good on that zipper promise.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “That zipper’s already living on borrowed time.”

And somehow, amidst the glamour and chaos, the spark still feels as new and electric as it did before kids, before marriage, before anything was certain.

Even when the car smells like mousse, and one of the kids is softly snoring like a chainsaw.

You glance at Tony.

Yeah. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

The second the car pulls into the garage and the twins are carefully extracted from the backseat—sleepy, grumpy, sticky with melted chocolate—Tony gives you a look.

The Look.

The one that promises that the minute tiny people are unconscious in their beds, you're going to be very, very thoroughly reminded about the zipper situation.

You smirk back at him, both of you speaking silently across the car hood like spies.

Step one: Get kids to bed. Step two: Lose the fancy clothes. Step three: Absolutely wreck the newly washed sheets.

Easy. Foolproof.

You both move like a synchronized tactical unit. Pajamas, teeth brushing, wiping faces, untangling glitter tights. Nova mutters something about robot spaghetti in her half-sleep. Howard insists he doesn't need help but still manages to put his pajama pants on backward.

You're barely containing your laughter as you herd them toward their rooms, exchanging conspiratorial glances with Tony every few seconds.

“Alright, you gremlins,” Tony says, crouching down dramatically. “Tonight, you sleep in your own beds like champions. Like grown-up, sophisticated individuals who can eat grilled salmon with ketchup.”

Howard yawns and salutes. Nova mumbles something incoherent and shuffles to her bed like a zombie.

You and Tony high-five behind their backs.

Victory is so close.

You tuck them in, kiss their foreheads, tiptoe toward the door…

And then.

“Wait!”

Howard bolts upright like he’s just remembered a critical world-saving mission. Nova follows, wide-eyed and alarmed.

“We want to sleep in your bed!” Howard blurts.

“Yeah!” Nova clutches her stuffed unicorn with the force of a thousand suns. “Your bed is bigger! And fluffier! And it smells like cookies and Dad's weird soap!”

You and Tony freeze mid-step. Like deer. Caught. In existential-crisis headlights.

Tony clears his throat. “Buddy, we love you. But your mom and I were planning some very important... adult... lying-down activities.”

You elbow him sharply. "Tony."

Howard pouts. Nova’s lower lip quivers.

"We miss family sleep nights," Howard says, voice small.

Nova sniffs. “You used to let us sleep with you.”

Your heart cracks a little. Okay. That's not fair. They're pulling the nostalgia card and they're doing it well.

Tony runs a hand through his hair like he’s being physically pained by the loss of his plans. He looks at you. You look at him.

Surrender.

You sigh dramatically. “Fine. One night.”

Both kids explode in victorious cheers.

“But—" Tony holds up a finger, still clinging to scraps of authority, "—if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Which is how you end up raiding the matching pajama drawer—yes, Tony insisted on having one made years ago—and soon all four of you are decked out in ridiculous, soft, Stark-family matching pajamas: little arc reactors printed on the shirts and "Team Stark" on the pants.

You all pile into the giant bed in a mass of limbs and giggles and pillows. Nova immediately claims Tony, curling against his side with her unicorn jammed between them. Howard stakes his claim on you, plopping himself firmlyagainst your chest and wrapping an arm possessively over your torso.

Tony tries—tries—to edge closer to you, stretching out an arm, wriggling his fingers in your direction with the saddest, most dramatic look of longing.

Howard narrows his eyes and shoves Tony’s face away with one tiny but determined hand.

"Mine," he mumbles sleepily.

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter.

Tony blinks at you over Howard’s stubborn little head, looking personally betrayed. He mouths, This is war.

You smile sweetly, mouthing back, You lost.

He pouts for about five seconds before Nova wiggles closer and pats his cheek comfortingly. “Don’t worry, Daddy. You can have cuddles too.”

Tony surrenders with a groan, wrapping his arms around Nova and the unicorn, glaring at you playfully over the tops of both their heads.

You wink at him.

For a few minutes, the room settles. The twins drift off quickly, soft breathing and little twitches as they tumble into deep sleep. The low hum of the city outside fills the background.

You shift slightly, trying not to wake Howard, and meet Tony’s eyes in the soft dark.

He mouths, You owe me.

You mouth back, Tomorrow night.

He grins like Christmas just came early.

For now, though—you lay there, Howard snuggled against you like a koala, Nova draped across Tony like he’s a human jungle gym, the warmth of your family a soft, heavy comfort around you.

Tony reaches out across the tiny bodies between you, brushing the tips of his fingers against yours in the middle of the bed.

Connection. Even through chaos.

You squeeze his fingers gently and close your eyes, feeling him do the same.

Maybe the night didn’t go exactly the way you planned.

But honestly?

It’s kind of perfect.

part 2 with them trying for another kid? or something else? let me know in the asks ;)

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o being very artistic

Request: can i request an ot13 reaction when the reader is a very artistic person ? maybe like she has a sketchbook just for drawing them or always make them a handcraft present like paper flower ykyk. thank youuu sm <3 !

A/N: I HOPE YOU LIKE THISSS!!! 😭💖 THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!! Thank you for the ADORABLE request, and I hope it made you giggle and kick your feet!! 🎨✨💛

Seungcheol: Blown away by your skills. If he ever walks in on you sketching, he’d just watch you for a while before softly saying, “That’s amazing.” If you made him a little painting of the two of you together, he’d keep it in his wallet or frame it in his room. He’s so proud of you and always hypes you up. “I can’t believe I have such a talented S/O.”

Jeonghan: He tries to act chill about it but the truth is, he loves it so much. If he ever catches you sketching him, he’d be like, “I know I’m handsome, but is drawing me that fun?” (he's melting inside). If you made him a cute little craft, he’d display it in his room and pretend it’s not a big deal, but if someone even tries to touch it, he’d be like, “DON’T TOUCH THAT…!!”

Joshua: He finds it incredibly sweet and would cherish every little thing you make. He loves watching you while you’re drawing and would even try to learn from you. He’d treasure all the sketches you made of him, keeping them in a box to look at whenever he misses you. “I can’t believe you put so much effort into this for me…” 🥺💖

Jun: Super supportive but also competitive. If he sees you sketching, he’d be like, “Let’s see who can draw better.” (spoiler: you win). If you gifted him a DIY card, he’d try to make one for you too, but it’d be a funny disaster (but it’s the thought that counts). He’d constantly tell you, “You're so talented! Don’t ever stop creating.”

Hoshi: The first time he sees a sketch of him, he immediately asks if he can keep it forever. He’ll brag about it to everyone, carrying it around like a proud boyfriend. If you give him more handcrafted gifts, he’ll display it in his room like a treasure. “YOU MADE THIS WITH YOUR OWN HANDS?! IT’S AMAZING!” 🥺

Wonwoo: Obsessed. He won’t react dramatically like others, but he’ll carefully flip through your sketchbook, admiring all the drawings you made of him. If you made him an origami flower, he’d keep it on his desk forever. He’s so touched by the fact that you express your love this way. “You always put so much effort into your gifts…”

Woozi: The first time he sees your artwork, he’d actually be like, “Wait. You’re actually amazing at this.” If you gave him a little hand-painted keychain, he’d keep it in his bag forever. He might even try drawing with you, but if he’s bad at it (I don't remember how good or bad he's at drawing 😭), he’ll act all nonchalant like “I should just stick to music.” 😂

Dokyeom: SO GIDDY ABOUT IT. He’d constantly ask to see your sketchbook and react so dramatically to every drawing you show him, “I LOOK SO HANDSOME!”. If you made him something like a paper flower, he’d never throw it away, keeping it in a safe spot forever.

Mingyu: LOVES being your muse. The moment he finds out you draw him a lot, he’ll start posing weirdly just to mess with you. “You need more references? Here, look at my perfect face.” 😂 But deep down, he treasures every single thing you make. If you crafted something for him, he’d show it off to everyone like, “LOOK WHAT MY S/O MADE ME!!”

Minghao: LOVES your artistic side. He’d be so impressed by your skills and might even start sketching with you. If you made him a little DIY bracelet, he’d wear it every day. He’d always encourage you to explore different art styles, and if you painted a portrait of him, he’d be so flattered. “You captured my beauty so well.” 😆

Seungkwan: He’d be so overwhelmed with happiness every time you gifted him something handmade. Very vocal about how much he loves it. If you gave him a handwritten and illustrated letter, he’d tear up and read it over and over again. “YOU LOVE ME SO MUCH???” Also, yes, he will tease you but he’s secretly so soft about it too.

Vernon: He’d have a very chill reaction but internally, he’s so touched. If you gifted him a handmade keychain, he’d actually use it all the time. He’d really admire your sketches of him, probably taking pictures of them because he loves them so much. If you catch him zoning out while looking at your gifts, he’d be like, “What? They’re cool!”

Dino: SUPER touched by every little thing you make him. He’d probably be too shy at first to react dramatically, but you’d catch him staring at the gifts/sketches. If you made him a cute doodle of him dancing, he’d frame it in his room. “You put so much love into this… I love it.” 😭💖

[inkedbydesire]

Love On The Brain Pt 1 (18+)

Jimmy Uso x Black Fem OC

Warning: 18+ Content, sexual language, MINORS DO NOT ENTER

Summary: Somewhere between his irresistible smile, cheesy jokes, and mind-numbing sex, Navae's five-month whirlwind with Jonathan Fatu had turned her into that friend (the one the group chat secretly dragged behind her back). So wrapped up in her situationship, Navae didn't even notice how often she was flaking on plans, showing up late, ducking out early, or not showing up at all. It wasn't like her, and her friends noticed. Convinced Jonathan was the root of the problem, they staged a full-blown friendtervention. After being called out for trading in her day ones for a man she barely knew, Navae knew she had to make a change and fast. So when girls' weekend rolled around again, she vowed to be fully present and accounted for. Nothing was going to stop her from walking out her front door ….. except, of course, the case of her missing keys.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Another one for Jimmy cause he’s sorta kinda my muse. Sorry for yapping but I can’t write any form of smut without giving them a reason for humping on each other (my bad 😂). But majority of the smut will be in Part 2. This is mainly just setting the scene. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or typos.

*************************************************

"Bitch I swear if you don't make it tonight we're cutting you off."

Toni's words came out jokingly, but Navae couldn't help but feel the underlying seriousness. Especially after the impromptu "friendtervention" she endured last week. She wasn't used to being on the receiving end of those things. Normally, she was the one staging the interventions, hoping to reel a straying girlfriend back to herself. So imagine her shock when Toni, Lauryn, and Kaci pulled up to her apartment and sat her down like she was the star of an A&E special and told her they were officially fed up with her shenanigans. For the first time in over five years of friendship, they had a real issue with her. And the issue had a name: Jonathan Fatu.

"He got you acting different."

Navae could still hear the way Toni said it, her nose scrunched in disapproval. Kaci and Lauryn stationed beside her, nodding in silent agreement. And then came the list. They pointed out a record of missed Sunday brunches, flaked plans, and early exits from girls' nights. Traditions Navae used to ride hard for, tossed aside the minute Jonathan called or texted. And so on and so forth.

With everything laid out in front of her, Navae had no choice but to face reality. Her girls had good reason to feel a certain way towards her. It was like she had been in a dark room for the last few months and somebody had finally opened a window. What was on the outside wasn't all that pretty.

Navae instantly realized that she didn't want to be that girl. The one losing herself in a man and neglecting her friendships. She especially didn't want to be that girl for a man she didn't have a solid commitment with because it had only been a handful of months since he entered her life.

Seeing no point in arguing against her girls, Navae only promised to do better, which is why making it to their favorite hangout spot tonight was a must. She had to prove to them and herself that Jonathan didn't have her mind completely gone. Okay... maybe he had her a little ditzy, but she was still in control.

Right?

"Toni, relax. I will be there. I'm literally doing my hair right now, and I will be heading out in another 20 to 25 minutes," Navae stated as she used her curling iron to bring volume back to her hair.

"Alright, Navae," Toni responded in a doubtful tone that slightly hurt Navae's feelings, but she quickly pushed it aside. She just had to prove her wrong. Once Toni was off her line, Navae resumed the Spotify playlist that had been entertaining her while she was getting ready.

"Baby it's you, you're the one I love, you're the one I need, you're the only one I see," Navae's voice was like nails on a chalkboard as she sang along with Beyoncé while finger-combing her curls into the desired direction. Just as she grabbed a handful of hair and tossed it over her shoulder, checking herself out, Jonathan appeared in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Damn, I thought somebody was back here killing a cat," he joked, leaning against the doorframe and watching her through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"Hardy har har," Navae shot back with a playful eye roll.

"Go find somebody to play with, Jonathan," she added as she shifted her focus back on her hair, attempting to dismiss him while pretending his presence didn't affect her.

Jonathan didn't like that. He was well aware of the hold he had on her because it was the same hold he felt she had on him.

He stepped closer, slid behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I wanna play with you," he stated as he rested his chin on her shoulder. The air in the bathroom thickened. Navae knew he meant that in more ways than one. Déjà vu hit her like a tidal wave as their eyes locked through the glass. Suddenly, her mind went back to their very first encounter.

It was at the birthday bash of a friend of a friend. Kaci knew the guy and thought it would be fun, so everyone tagged along. Thirty minutes after arriving with her girls, Navae started getting the eerie feeling that she was being watched. She tried ignoring it at first, but she couldn't shake it, so she scanned the party. It didn't take her long to spot him. He was standing across the room with a group of what she assumed were his friends. They were laughing and talking around him, but his eyes were deadlocked on her. And when she caught him staring, there was zero shame in his game. He didn't look away. He just kept on watching.

Typically, Navae would be annoyed by someone, especially a man, eyeing her like she was the last source of food on the planet, but she didn't mind it once she got a good look at him. Damn is all she could repeat in her head because she couldn't pull out an adjective strong enough to describe him. Her eyes traveled from the fitted cap on his head down to the clean white Air Force 1's on his feet. Now she was the one eyeing him like she wanted to take a bite.

And maybe she did.

It was the Hennessy she had been sipping since arrival that made her bold enough to walk up to him. She pulled him aside from his friends and asked him what he was looking at.

When all he did was smile, flashing the grill he was sporting at her, Navae didn't know to what extent just yet, but she was already a goner.

One thing led to another, and before the night was over, she found herself ducked off in a bathroom with him so deep inside of her you would've thought they were long-lost lovers, not two people who had just met that night. Even to this day, when Navae closed her eyes, she could still feel his breath against her ear as he repeatedly praised her for how wet she was and how good she was taking him.

She was a complete stranger, but he was in her ear, guiding her like they had known each other in a past life.

Navae didn't partake in many one-night stands. In fact, her encounter with Jonathan was only the second time she allowed herself to be that adventurous. She didn't know what it was about him that made her throw caution to the wind, but she was glad she did.

What transpired between her and him wasn't supposed to go past that night, though. They were supposed to part ways and never see each other again. But what happened in that bathroom was so electrifying that they ended up exchanging numbers, with Jonathan promising Navae that she hadn't seen nothing yet. He told her to just wait until he could really take his time with her. Navae found herself anticipating the hell out of it.

They talked for about a week before making plans to see each other again. Now, Navae wasn't a stranger to sex at all and had a few different sexual encounters with a couple of men. So, of course, part of her went into the night with Jonathan thinking some of it was just him talking himself up. She had a few dudes say what they would or could do, yet she was left basically unfulfilled. So she wasn't expecting anything above what she and Jonathan shared in that bathroom. That wasn't a bad thing, though, because it was a great experience.

But Jesus, did Jonathan live up to his words and a whole lot more. Navae had never cum so much in one night in her life. She lost count and damn near went brain dead after her seventh orgasm, and Jonathan just wasn't letting up. She had never had a man who prioritized her pleasure over his in such a way. It was like his next breath depended on how hard he could make her cum.

It got so intense in that bedroom that Navae vividly remembered telling him that she loved him. It still embarrassed her to this day because she had only known the man for a week. And to this day, he still hasn't let her live it down.

Jonathan put something on her that night that had her still paying the price today. She never meant to start being neglectful with her best friends, but it was like when Jonathan wanted her, she couldn't say no. Or it was more like certain parts of her body couldn't say no.

On top of that, Jonathan was extremely funny and charming. Over the course of five months, there was genuinely never a dull moment with him. They hadn't quite made it official yet, but Jonathan constantly assured Navae that she was the only person he was currently pursuing. And since meeting him, she couldn't even think about anybody else.

Jonathan was a ton of amazing things, but behind his knee-buckling smile and those beautiful dark eyes, Navae saw a deep possessiveness. It should've been a red flag, but it just turned her on more. The way Jonathan wanted her when he wanted her and didn't care if she made plans with God himself. That wasn't his problem. With his career and hers, their time together weekly was already limited. So when they both had free time, he wasn't too keen on sharing her with anybody else. Not even with people she knew well before him.

So many times Navae would tell him she had plans, but his favorite line was, "What that got to do with me, Navae?"

So many times she would actually go through the process of getting ready, only to have her hair messed up by how he liked to run his fingers through it while praising her for sucking his dick or throwing it back just right. Or only to have her makeup ruined by the tears she couldn't contain when he was so deep inside her it felt like he was taking a piece of her soul every time he pulled out.

Navae couldn't help but feel like Jonathan had a thing for watching her get ready just so he could be the one to undo her. That's what she thinks gets him off the most. Watching her get ready, knowing he was about to pull every move so she wouldn't even make it out the door.

There were days when she would actually make it to an event, though. Late sometimes, but she would be there. Only to end up leaving early because Jonathan would constantly be texting the filthiest things to her phone, telling her how much he needed her. And Navae always felt like she needed him in that way too, so it was nearly impossible not to give in. Even when she hadn't spent more than an hour with her friends all week.

God, she had become a terrible friend. If anyone else in the friend group were behaving this way, she would be so irritated.

It was beyond necessary that she showed and proved tonight. It wouldn't instantly fix things and put her back in everyone's good graces, but it would show that they were still just as important to her.

So Navae had to be there tonight, and she couldn't let anyone or anything stray her from that path. But here Jonathan was with his arms around her, trying to do just that. Earlier when they talked, she told him there was no point in his coming over tonight because she would be gone for hours. She and her girls were hitting up one of their favorite clubs and planned to party all night like old times. Pre-Jonathan times. But still, he showed up at her apartment about an hour ago smelling just as good as he looked, ready to call her bluff.

"You better play with yourself. I'm about to go. You already know that," Navae said to him while maneuvering out of his arms. Something she didn't necessarily want to do but had to because he was intentionally pressing his bulge against her ass. He wasn't even hard, and she could feel it. She pushed away images of the mini baseball bat he was walking around calling a penis and told herself that she had to stay focused.

Unplugging her curling iron, she looked around for what else she had to do and was happy that it wasn't much. With her hair and makeup finished, all she had to do was spray on some perfume and add a few pieces of jewelry. Then she could be out the door.

But little did she know, Jonathan had already taken one look at the way the jersey dress clinging to her body barely covered her ass and the thigh-high boots, and decided that she wasn't leaving his sight. He didn't care where she thought she was going, all he knew was that all her hard work was about to be for nothing. Well... never mind, she would definitely be getting something for it.

She looked too fucking good, and no way was some other dude at a club about to enjoy looking at her while he was stuck at her apartment thinking about every position he would rather be putting her in. He had been on the road for damn near the whole week, and all he could think about was seeing Navae.

Touching Navae.

Tasting Navae.

Being inside Navae.

He needed it bad.

And now that he was here, he wasn't trying to wait until she came back from the club too drunk or tired to get the treatment she deserved. She told him about how her friends were getting on her about the time they spent together, but he didn't see it as his issue. It wasn't his fault that Navae had bad time management skills. But what they said must've really gotten to her because she was acting a little different tonight. Anytime he touched her, she moved like she just did. And she wasn't allowing him to kiss on her or be near her for too long.

Jonathan sensed that old moves wouldn't get her to give in to the inevitable tonight, so he had to think of something else.

He took one last look at her spraying on the perfume that lingered well after she left the room before retreating to her living room. He sat down on the couch to think for a moment. Navae was determined as hell to go clubbing tonight, but he was even more determined to have his tongue wrapped around her clit in the next fifteen minutes, so... somebody had to win.

His eyes shifted around the living room before they landed on her keys on the floor near the coffee table. He noticed that Navae had a habit of walking into the house and tossing her keys without worrying about where they landed until she was about to leave again. Jonathan couldn't control the smile that crept on his face as he leaned forward and grabbed her keys. He slid them into the pocket of his sweatpants before leaning back into the couch cushions.

Just then, Navae slid on her last bracelet. She gave herself one last once-over in the mirror before grabbing the purse she matched with her outfit. Easing her phone inside her bag, she entered the living room.

"Baby, I'm about to leave," she announced to Jonathan as she walked over to where he was sitting.

"Awww, don't look like that. I'll be back," she joked as she stood in front of him as he looked up at her. She knew the look in his eyes all too well. It was an unquenchable hunger that she wasn't trying to get caught up in. At least not right now. She leaned down and ditched a kiss for a hug because she didn't want to mess up her lips. Once Jonathan had her in his arms, he softly kissed her on the neck while grabbing a handful of her ass.

Navae let it ride for a few moments before breaking away before she had to go and change her panties.

"I'll see you later, Jon," she told him, walking towards the front door. She was so close, but then she looked and didn't see her keys dangling from the hook by the door. She almost burst out laughing, remembering that she never uses the damn thing anyway. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder, then turned around and walked back towards her coffee table. But she didn't see them there either. She looked around it but still came up with nothing. All she remembered was this morning she tossed them damn keys towards something. The coffee table? The kitchen counter? The stand in her room? She checked all those places before returning to where she started with nothing.

"You seen my keys?" she asked Jonathan, who was still sitting on the couch. Now he had her remote in his hand, flipping through the channels.

"Nah... but I told you about just throwing them anywhere," he responded, not feeling any remorse for the fact that the keys she was going all over her apartment searching for were sitting in his pocket.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you help me look for them?" Navae asked, a little frustrated. The last thing she needed was a lecture from him. Yes, she would do the same thing at his house, resulting in them having to search for her keys each time she was about to leave. No, she didn't need to be reminded of that right now.

"Yeah, but come here right quick," Jonathan told Navae as he put the remote down, realizing that now was his opportunity to reel her in. Navae walked back over and stood in front of him after dropping her purse on the coffee table.

"Yes?" she asked him.

"I did something to you?" he questioned her, knowing damn well she wasn't mad at him or anything. But he needed a way to get her on the hook. He placed his hands on her hips, looking up at her as she looked down at him with her hands resting on his shoulders.

"Why you think that?" Navae asked, confused. Yes, she had been a little standoffish today because she didn't want to get caught up in him, but she didn't think he would view that as her having a problem with him.

"I don't know," Jonathan answered with a shrug.

"You just been acting a lil funny today. You ain't gave me a kiss or nothing since I been here. Every time I try to touch you, you walk off from me. That shit got me feeling like you got a problem with me," Jonathan said, laying it on thick. He did feel a little bad for playing with her head for his benefit, but he figured each time he got her to cum would be his way of making it up. They both would win in the end.

"We're fine, Jon. I'm not upset with you about anything. I was just focused on getting ready," Navae reassured him as she stroked his beard, feeling bad that her actions made him feel that way.

"Feel better?" she asked him to ensure they were okay. With everything going on with her girls, the last thing she was prepared for was an issue with him. Although she knew her friends would probably be happy to see him go.

"I will be once you give me a kiss," Jonathan told her, then flashed a reassuring smile her way to let her know they were straight. He had no intentions to upset her too badly. He just needed an angle to keep her from making him wait longer for what he needed.

"Do you see this?" Navae said while waving her hand towards her face. "It took a minute to get it right. I can't mess it up."

"You got more than one set of lips, Navae."

To Be Continued……

Part 2

[karmacharmeleon18]

Due to popular demand, here's my Ateez Plastic Surgery post!

Sorry it took me a while but I had to do some editing to respect the limit of 30 pictures per post

Remember that all of this started from a few asks I received on the topic, and my autistic brain decided to fixate on it: I'm not writing this post out of malice or as criticism of Ateez, I simply need to get it out of my system so I can move on! 😂

I love these boys as all of you do and see nothing shameful in plastic surgery

And speaking of asks received, I want to thank all the people that have shown interest and support in my messages and inbox: I really didn't expect anyone to appreciate my musings about such a taboo topic, so thank you so much for being kind and interested! ❤

First things first:

For any Atiny that doesn’t want to see this: block the tag "ateez plastic surgery" and you won’t have to!

But if you’re interested in reading, know that I will not post any pictures of actual surgeries, so don’t worry if you’re squeamish.

Let's go!

We all know how beautiful Ateez noses are, we all adore them, right?

And I think, if the surgery allegations are well-founded, they truly show the GENIUS and MASTERY of Korean plastic surgeons

They did not give every member the same exact nose (as it’s so common in the West, where you can tell from miles away when someone got their nose done)

They kept all the personality, all the quirks of their noses, all that makes them interesting and beautiful and unique

They simply made them slimmer

(slimmer, but not necessarily smaller; big noses are just so beautiful)

I’ve seen K-Pop fans (not Atiny, but in general) say things like: “That was their nose as a teenager, they are grown men/women now!”, or: “They lost weight, of course their face changed!”

Noses are bone, cartilage, soft tissues and skin, their size and shape is not affected by weight loss as there are no fat cells stored in your nose

Your nose changes during puberty, but by the time you are 18, it has stopped growing/changing shape and size

Any natural change in shape and size as an older teen (18-19) and adult might be due to medical conditions, but that’s not the case for the vast majority of idols

With all of this out of the way, let’s begin a more in-depth analysis!

Now, for those interested in the topic but not in my yapping, I have found a YouTube video from 2022 about this:

According to the video:

Hongjoong had a rhinoplasty* and a chin implant (*I think he possibly had 2 + fixed his front teeth)

Seonghwa had a rhinoplasty and double eyelid surgery (I think he possibly had a chin implant too)

Yunho had 2 rhinoplasties* and double eyelid surgery (*I agree)

Yeosang had a rhinoplasty and double eyelid surgery

San had a rhinoplasty

Mingi had a subtle rhinoplasty (kinda disagree? I think he actually had a silicone implant that he took out during his hiatus; when he came back his nose looked different and I suspect his current nose might be closer to his natural one, if not the natural one)

Wooyoung had a rhinoplasty, outer eye corners cut and ptosis repair

Jongho had a rhinoplasty, double eyelid surgery and ptosis repair

Again, I can’t stress how common plastic surgery is in South Korea. Korean teens get it as birthday presents! I’m talking rhinoplasties, chin implants, double eyelid and even jaw shaving surgeries, as teenagers. And imagine how much more common it is for celebrities!

Korean surgeons are absolutes masters at making “improved” facial features look as natural as possible

Now here is my opinion for each member

Hongjoong

I think the rhinoplasty is pretty obvious. Hongjoong with his natural nose used to be almost the spitting image of Bumjoong:

Spot the difference!

(keep in minded that Bumjoong might have had his nose slightly "fixed" as well, and double eyelid surgery 👀 this is pure speculation because I have 0 pics of him as a teen, but what I'm saying is: they might have looked even more alike when they were younger)

And here's more young Hongjoong:

Edit: a lovely Atiny sent me the side profile pics I couldn't find on my own! So I added them in the collage above. As you can see, Hongjoong's nose used to be flatter and more hooked than Bumjoong's

But then predebut/debut and rookie Hongjoong had a very sharp nose that almost curved upwards; it looked "perfect"... but quite unnatural, like it could cut glass:

And this is the nose he has now, much softer, less pointy, more natural looking; and - incidentally - very similar to the nose his mom has (right pic), which is why people say "he didn't inherit her nose, he inherited her surgeon" (kinda mean but also hilarious):

And here are his natural teeth, slightly crooked and with a bit of a gap vs his debut/current teeth (ft super sharp debut nose):

And a pic from the video about a possible chin implant:

So possibly, he had a first rhinoplasty (and chin implant?) in high school, maybe because he was set on working in the entertainment industry and knew that would help, or maybe he had already signed with KQ and he had the surgery in preparation for a possible debut

The second rhinoplasty might have happened during the height of COVID, when concerts and events were postponed and cameras weren’t as focused on him

As for his teeth, I don’t know if he used some sort of braces to realign them, or if he got veneers. In 2023 he also accidentally hit his mic against his front teeth and chipped one of them, but now his teeth are as perfect as always and he got them fixed easily and quickly, so maybe veneers?

Seonghwa

Pre-debut Seonghwa is my WEAKNESS. He looks like he could and would beat up current Seonghwa for fun lmao

I totally understand why the KQ staff thought he was going to kill them if they didn’t let him pass the audition

And I understand why Hongjoong was so intimidated...

Imagine being the freakiest twink in the Itaewon bathrooms and this piece of murderous beef shows up:

(I'm pretty much the same age he was predebut/at debut, so I don't feel weird lusting after him... maybe in a few years I'll have to take this post down lol)

Now, I have seen all sorts of allegations (because people just can’t comprehend how someone can be so beautiful ) starting with him getting his jaw shaved and a chin implant

The way your face shape looks can be affected by make-up, lighting, weight loss, perspective, so I’m not very good at detecting surgeries of this kind (unless the before-after is a monumental change)

His chin does look more pointy now compared to the past:

How much of it is weight loss? And how much is surgery? Surgery seems more likely in this case, the shape looks completery different

One thing that does not change with weight loss is your nose, so maybe as the video says he had a rhinoplasty to make the bridge slimmer and the tip and nostrils more defined:

(his nose was wider, flatter, less defined)

As for the double eyelid surgery, it’s also entirely possible, as the pics above already showed. He might have always had double eyelids (though in the pictures above it doesn’t look like it) but now he definitely does. It’s not make-up, it’s not eyelid tape. Something changed:

(this is a screenshot I was sent of a tiktok video, because I'm not the only one that noticed these details)

Before, his upper lid used to be very prominent, but now he definitely has visible double eyelids:

But something I adore about him is that even after a slimming rhinoplasty, his nose is not "perfect"; from the side, his bridge has the slightest bump, and when he truly smiles (the famous Seonghwa pained smile/happiness that looks like pain), his nose looks almost hooked:

This is an instance of Korean surgeons knowing exactly how far to go when “fixing” a nose

They don’t want each patient to have the same exact nose

This is, undeniably, Seonghwa’s nose

The bridge is simply a bit slimmer, the nostrils and tip more defined

(and the same goes for Wooyoung, the surgeon still left him with Wooyoung’s nose, they just made it slimmer, it’s genius work)

Yunho

Yunho is the only confirmed case of plastic surgery in the whole team

During the Wave era he told Atiny that one time he fell asleep on a bus, the bus driver hit the brakes a bit too hard, too suddenly, and Yunho’s reflexes weren’t enough to spare him: he fell and broke his nose

The problem? When he told us this story, his nose was different from the nose he has right now

So he had at least 2 nose jobs: the one he told us about, that happened pre-debut, and another, more recent one that got him the nose he has today

This is his natural nose:

Then this is his nose at debut + during the Wave era (the blond pic is from the video he told us about his old nose surgery); by this point he's already had one nose surgery which made his nose a bit more defined, the nostrils more accentuated:

But this is his nose now:

More pointy, bony, the shape overall more sharp and less roundish, lost almost all softness

So Yunho most likely had 2 nose jobs: one he told us about during the Wave era, that happened years before, and another one that got him the nose he has today.

Now, I’m not saying he’s a liar! Maybe pre-debut he did need surgery after breaking his nose! And maybe he needed a second one because he still had some lingering issues! And plastic surgeons being plastic surgeons, they made his nose smaller/straighter/more conventionally attractive because that’s their job

The video also alleges he had a double eyelid surgery, but all the pics I found of young Yunho are a bit too grainy to be sure. It does look like he has a double eyelid on his left eye, while his right eye looks more like a monolid, so maybe he had that fixed to be more symmetrical? And both lids were very prominent, even the one that was already double. It's hard to tell for sure, but it's entirely possible

Yeosang

I have to say I agree with the video, both when they say he possibly had a nose job&double eyelid surgery, and when they say they were absolutely unnecessary lol (tbf I think they all were unnecessary)

Before:

His nose is less defined, looks bigger, and his eyelids are very prominent

Now:

His nostrils are still prominent, but the bridge is slimmer, giving his nose an overall more defined look; and now he definitely has double eyelids

San

According to the video, he had a rhinoplasty to slim down the bridge of his nose, and I guess I can see it:

His nose was flatter and larger, now it's slimmer and more defined (sorry I keep using this word but it makes sense in my head? I hope you get what I'm trying to say) with a more pointy tip.

And I think that’s it? Some say some type of eyelid surgery but I don't know, I'm really not good at detecting those unless they're very obvious lol and very few surgeries in Ateez are "very obvious", most of them are masterfully subtle

Mingi

Mingi is a tough one to figure out, he definitely got something done to his nose, but for the longest time I couldn't figure out what exactly

Because Mingi is the only member whose nose got less perfect with time

He did the opposite of all the other members, instead of having his nose permanently “fixed”, he had a previous cosmetic tool removed

The video says he had his nose slimmed down, like the others, but I don’t know if I agree. In the pic they used, it does look like it, but then other pictures of young Mingi (at that same age) show that he’s always had a slim nose. I think that in the pic used in the video, lighting was playing some tricks

It’s hard to say definitively, because all the pictures we have of Mingi are either too old (Mingi was a child, his slim nose back then might have changed with puberty), too grainy (I straight up can’t see his nose well lol) or too close to debut (he might have already gotten something done)

But in his high school pics, his nose could be his natural nose

Why? Because it does not look exactly like his debut nose, it's not as sharp and "perfect"

High school Mingi’s nose is more similar to the nose he has today:

Big but not super pointy and triangular

On the other hand, debut Mingi’s nose had a high bridge, was straight, sharp, almost triangular and “perfect”, a surgeon’s dream

But then when he came back from his hiatus, it was slightly and yet visibly different, his nose bridge was lower, the tip less sharp, it looked overall more curved and less pointy

Debut vs Now pics:

Debut: high bridge, sharp tip

Now: lower bridge and softer tip

Debut Mingi's nose had a very high bridge that started right after the curve of his forehead

High school and current Mingi's nose has some space between his forehead and the start of his nose/he has a lower bridge, and it looks overall softer

The tip now almost seems to point downwards at times, depending on the perspective, because there's no more silicone bar pulling his nostrils forward and lifting the tip

His nose today looks also slightly smaller than his debut nose, again because the're no more silicone bar pulling the soft tissues forward

Mingi's softer, rounder nose after his hiatus/now:

... Mingi’s nose today is a nose a plastic surgeon would generally fix. Surgeons want high bridges and sharp tips (Mingi’s debut nose), maybe not for the average person, but definitely for an idol

Mingi went in the opposite direction, he removed the high bridge and sharp tip

Unlike the rest of Ateez, Mingi removed what made his nose so perfect

But how?

I think that instead of a traditional nose job (which usually breaks and shaves bone and reshapes cartilage), his pre-debut self possibly had a silicone implant inserted in his nose, to make it higher, straighter, pointier and “perfect” for debut

(do not google nose silicone implants 🤢 it's literally a solid "bar" - for lack of a better term off the top of my head - made of silicone and inserted along the lenght of the bridge)

Then during his hiatus, he had it removed, so now we see his nose how it could have looked naturally

His nose today is also slightly curved, usually it's barely visible, only from certain angles and when the light hits it in the right way, but again, it's something a surgeon would fix:

Top row

Rengoku pic: no visible curve but his nose look less slim because of the lighting, very similar to his nose in the high school pics

Middle&Right pics: slightest curve detectable

Bottom row, most recent Mingi pics from GHpt3

Pic on the left (right side profile): softer, slightly curved

Pic on the right (left side profile): straight, pointy

(again, asymmetrical, a surgeon would fix this)

Let's take Wooyoung as an example of a nose curved on purpose:

Wooyoung’s curve is visible from the side, it gives him a very interesting, sensual and above all distinctive and unique side profile, which a good surgeon would aim for

Mingi’s curve is (slightly) visible from the front, and varies depending on which side of his profile you're looking at; it’s something a surgeon would deem asymmetrical and want to fix

And I don’t think this is the result of a botched cosmetic surgery: Mingi and his perfect debut nose had no reason to get another cosmetic surgery and, what, enhance the perfection even more? This is not a case of surgery gone wrong

He had a perfect nose and decided to make it less perfect

Why???? I don’t know

But when Mingi went on hiatus for 8 months, he actually didn’t know if he wanted to come back to Ateez. He didn’t know if he wanted to be an idol anymore

So maybe he got the implant removed to reclaim possession of his face, as a rejection of the idol life that had brought him so much anxiety and hardships

Maybe because of his anxiety he also experienced some sort of body dysmorphia? Like he looked in the mirror and couldn’t recognize the face staring back at him, all he saw was Song Mingi the idol

If he was going to come back, he was going to come back as his old self, the real Mingi, not the perfect version the industry wanted

In conclusion, Mingi’s nose became less conventionally perfect with time, which makes me think he had whatever cosmetic tool he had used for debut removed during his hiatus, and now we see his nose in his (possible) natural state

As for the eye ptosis repair theory mentioned in the video, I have no idea. I’m not good at detecting this type of thing and as I said, Mingi’s old pics aren’t super reliable. But Mingi’s eyes are still a big insecurity of his, and in the past he wanted double eyelids. I think if he’d had ptosis repair surgery, he would’ve gotten double eyelid surgery at the same time? I don’t see why he would get one and not the other. Mingi’s eyes are still smaller than other members’ (to his perpetual chagrin), so I don’t think he had anything done there?

Wooyoung

Wooyoung, like Seonghwa, is another obvious case of masterful rhinoplasty

Side by side comparisone Before vs Now:

His nose used to be larger and seemed to lack the sexy curved slope he has today

Before:

Larger and rounder

Now:

Slimmer and beautifully sloped

As for the allegations of eye surgery, I don't think that's the case here? Woo's eyes are pretty uneven, the left one has a slight double eyelid, the right one does not. A surgeon would've fixed that imo

Jongho

I'm running out of space for pictures 😭 sorry everyone and Jongho

The creator of the video says rhinoplasty, double eyelid surgery and ptosis repair

Top row

His nose now seems more defined and slighlty smaller (rhinoplasty) and his eyes a bit larger and the lids less prominent (ptosis repair)

Bottom row

Jongho always had double eyelids (AND LOOK HOW CUTE HE WAS!!!)

The ptosis repair is still possible tho, to make the eyes open wider

But honestly Jongho has such a baby face for me, it's hard to be sure!

And now I'm done! I hope you enjoyed!

[earthlybeam]

I've really enjoyed your manspreading posts and I was wondering if you could please do something in reverse, elves reacting to the reader manspreading for them, with Cirdan, Gil-galad and Celebrimbor?

I love writing this 😂🫶 Gil-galad, Celebrimbor, cirdan version below.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

The golden light of Lindon’s afternoon sun filtered through the open archways of Gil-galad’s private chamber, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and pine, and the faint rustle of leaves outside added to the quiet serenity of the space.

Gil-galad sat with his usual poise, his back straight, one hand resting lightly on the intricately carved armrest of his chair. Across from him, you were far less composed. Your leg stretched outward, taking up a rather excessive amount of space as you leaned back with an air of relaxed ease.

His keen silver eyes flickered to your posture—unbothered, yet entirely aware. His lips pressed together in a manner that suggested amusement rather than disapproval. A slow blink. A deliberate glance at the space you occupied. Then, a single raised brow.

“You seem quite at home,” he remarked, his voice smooth, carrying a quiet authority laced with something dangerously close to amusement. He did not reprimand you—he never did. He merely watched, as if measuring something unspoken between you.

You didn’t move, emboldened by the lack of outright censure. “I am quite at home,” you replied, stretching just a little further, a deliberate challenge. A silence followed—one that might have been intimidating if it weren’t for the telltale gleam of mischief in his eyes. And then, with the grace only a High King could possess, he mirrored you.

Effortless. Poised. Intentional. One leg extended, his form shifting ever so slightly into the very position you had taken. The sight was almost absurd—Gil-galad, the dignified and composed ruler of the Noldor, perfectly mimicking your stance with an air of undeniable elegance.

Yet, there was an unmistakable edge to it, a quiet checkmate in the game you had just started. His expression remained composed, but there was no mistaking the humor beneath the surface. “It seems,” he mused, voice softer now, dipping into something dangerously smooth, “that I, too, am quite at home.” The challenge was clear: your move.

💍𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓫𝓸𝓻

The warm glow of the forge flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows that danced across the polished floor. The scent of molten metal and aged parchment filled the air as Celebrimbor, nose buried in an intricate blueprint, barely glanced up when you settled into the chair across from him.

Then, he noticed. His quill hovered mid-air, a thin drop of ink trembling at its tip. His keen Elven eyes flickered from your face to the way you sat—sprawled out with undeniable confidence, legs spread, utterly at ease in his presence. It was casual, effortless, perhaps even unconscious, but to him? It was something else entirely.

A sharp inhale. A slight twitch of his fingers. He swallowed, realizing only now that his grip on the quill had tightened enough to leave an indent on the parchment. He was a craftsman, a smith who had forged wonders beyond mortal comprehension, and yet, at this moment, his mind could not shape a single coherent thought.

His lips parted slightly, as if to say something—perhaps a reprimand, perhaps a question—but no words came. Instead, his gaze flickered away, darting to a safer place: the curve of your wrist, the glint of your belt buckle, the polished surface of the table. Composure. He needed composure.

With a quiet breath, he adjusted his posture, suddenly aware of how stiffly he sat. His own legs, always carefully placed together in an almost regal manner, shifted slightly—just enough to mimic your stance, though he would never admit to the influence. His fingers drummed against the parchment before he finally spoke, voice carefully neutral.

“… Is that comfortable?” A pause. Then, softer, almost contemplative “It suits you.” His eyes met yours again, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he swiftly turned back to his work, though the slight flush at the tips of his ears betrayed him.

🌊 𝓬í𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷

You sit across from Círdan in a quiet chamber overlooking the sea. The air is filled with the scent of salt and aged wood, and the sound of distant waves lulls the space into a solemn stillness. The ancient Elf sits with his usual grace—straight-backed, his hands resting lightly upon the arms of his chair. His silver beard, rare among his kind, catches the dim light like woven starlight.

You, on the other hand, are… well, comfortable. Perhaps a little too comfortable. Legs sprawled wide, taking up more space than strictly necessary, you lounge in the seat as if the weight of ages does not sit upon your shoulders. There is an ease in your posture—casual, perhaps even a little careless.

Círdan does not react immediately. He simply watches, his sea-grey eyes calm, unreadable, but undeniably aware. He is in no rush to speak, nor does he fill the silence with unnecessary words. The room itself seems to hold its breath, waiting.

Then, at last, he exhales softly and tilts his head just so, regarding you with the patience of one who has seen empires rise and fall. His voice, when it comes, is deep and steady—like the tide rolling in.

“I see,” he muses, his tone carrying neither scorn nor amusement, only observation. “You are comfortable here.” A pause. A single, deliberate glance at your seating arrangement. “Perhaps more than is customary.”

He does not command. He does not need to. His presence alone is enough to shift the air in the room, to remind you—gently, yet unmistakably—that you are in the company of someone whose authority does not need to be asserted to be felt.

And so, without thinking, you adjust. Not out of fear, nor out of embarrassment, but because there is something in Círdan that invites a quiet kind of reverence. The kind that asks not with words, but with being.

[rinsfanfics01]

Musing Monday

I was tagged by: @chococara25. Thank you for forcing me to work on this today 😂

-

“Good night, mijo. I'll see you in the morning.” Eddie said as the boy headed down the hallway. Once he could no longer hear the sound of his son’s footsteps he grabbed the box again. Now, with no distractions, he was able to open it.

At first he had no idea what he was looking at. There was messily put together gift tissue and random pieces shoved into this small box. As he pulled it out he realised he was looking at a pink portable CD player. There was also headphones that had been placed at the bottom of the box. Also included was a CD in a case with Buck’s messy writing on the CD itself. It almost reminded him of mixtapes.

So, with more effort than he'd like to admit, Eddie got everything set up. He even figured out how to plug the player in himself. During this time he also found a custom made map of Los Angeles. One with a grid and stars on random points. If he hadn't known it was from Buck before the map would have given him away.

“Okay, Buck. Let's see what you got for me.” Eddie huffed as he put the headphones on.

“Hey, it's Buck-Evan Buckley. No need to adjust the volume on whatever it is you're listening to this on. It's me, live and in stereo. Except this time, there are no return engagements, no encore, and absolutely no request.”

Eddie quickly hit pause, not fully wanting to believe what he was hearing.

“This better not be what I think it is.” Eddie whispered to himself. He couldn't let Chris overhear any of this if it was. Hell, he'd rather his son not find out about this at all. Still, there was a small part of him that needed him to know. So, to satisfy his curiosity he hit play again.

“You might as well sit down, get comfy. It's uh you're gonna be here a while. Cause I'm going to tell you about my life. Or-or at least how this one is ending.”

Eddie wanted to roll his eyes hit the wording stopped him. How this one ended? Did that mean Buck-

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna commit suicide or something as crazy. That's not what this is. This is me telling you, all of you, why I'm leaving. Cause if you received this then you're one of the reasons why.”

At this Eddie had to hit pause again. What the fuck did he mean by that? He left and all he left behind was a damn CD that told them why? What, he couldn't face them like a man? Typical Buck, running away from his problems instead of facing them on like an adult. Eddie had half a mind to just toss the CD and be done with it. Yet, that one part of him wanted to know. Maybe if he knew, he could find Buck. Force him to come back. So, against his better judgment, Eddie hit play once again.

“Well, most of you. There are two of you on here that didn't actually do anything to me directly. You sadly got pulled in because the actual person who did the damage can't receive this.”

He couldn't help but perk up at this. Maybe he was one of the two. Though the likelihood of that was slim. He had no idea what Hen or Chimney could have done. Nor Maddie for that instance. There was no way they didn't receive a copy of this.

“Either way those people, and the rest of you, will all appear somewhere on this CD. I won't be telling you where you pop up. Don't worry though, you will be popping up if you got my package.”

Now that one had Eddie pausing again. One because he had no idea why he hadn't assumed he could not be on this. Then again, Buck wouldn't go through the trouble of sending this to him if he didn't want Eddie to hear it. Still, it was weird that there were thirteen tracks on this thing. Well, fourteen if he counted this one. At least that's what the numbers that had been written on the CD.

“The rules here are easy. There are only two. You listen, and you pass it on. Hopefully neither are easy for you. If I wanted it to be easy then I would have written individual notes. When you are done listening to all fourteen tracks, this one included, you will put the CD back into its case and repackage it along with the portable player. A friend of mine will collect it from you and pass it on. Don't worry, it shouldn't take too long to listen. After all, it is only 13 stories out of 97 acts.”

Eddie wanted to be mad at the dig. If he had thought he had been mistakenly given this, he didn't anymore. Fucking Buck, exploiting their business again. He should have seen this coming. After all, isn't this the same thing he did at the lawsuit?

“It's okay, laugh. Don't worry if you don't get it, you will soon enough. Oh, and if you want to get interactive I have added a map. If you're so inclined then you can see the locations of these tales. All you'll have to do is follow the stars.”

Eddie glanced over at the map and opened it again. Couldn't he have just emailed them the gps coordinates? Or not done this at all? Typical Buck, not making things easy on them. How were they supposed to go out and drive to all of these places? Didn't he think about the fact they had families? Did he think about this at all?

“Before you go thinking this is one of my impulsive moves, don't. I've been planning on leaving for over a year. The CD is a one last attempt to make you see me. If you all listen and you all follow my rules, then maybe we have a chance of keeping this family together. Or don't, what would I know? I'm not there. If you want me to come back though, do as I request. Remember, I have friends keeping an eye on things.”

-

Nominating: @s3tm3onfir3 , @ladyeyrewrites, and @autisticbucktommy

[lau219]

Hi Lauren! heard you were writing gif prompted drabbles and I wanted to see what you would do with this gif I found of Tommy 😂🤭

@reiwanwan

Hi Rei! Thank you for this request! I hope you enjoy! 💗

“You’re not wearing that,” came Tommy’s voice behind you.

Upon entering your bedroom, he’d taken one look at the dress you’d selected for the party that evening and was not happy. He’d been in the middle of fixing his cuff links when his eyes had landed on you.

“Excuse me?” you said as you briefly turned and lifted your eyes, your head tilted downward slightly as you fastened your necklace at the back of your neck.

“You’re. Not. Wearing. That.” Tommy repeated himself, sternly emphasizing each word.

“I’m not?” you asked him sarcastically as you then lifted your head. “Odd, seeing as, well, I am.”

“Amusing, love, but not enough so to change my mind.” He then finished with his other cuff link before looking at you again. “It’s too short at the bottom and too low at the top. Pick another dress.”

Making a face at him then, you tilted your head.

“And why should I?” you said. “You’re being ridiculous. This dress is perfectly suitable for this party.”

“If you’re a whore,” Tommy said as he mockingly agreed, and your eyes were flashing with near anger.

“I would choose your next words very carefully, Thomas Shelby,” you warned him. “I will not let your stupid possessiveness and desire to control everything be an excuse for speaking to me like that. This dress is perfectly tasteful, and you know it. I’m wearing it to the party.”

Walking up to you then and stopping in front of you, Tommy paused for a breath and then gave you an amused look.

“So, I’m stupid for not wanting any other man’s eyes on my wife?” he said, and he lifted his hands and gently grasped your upper arms in affection.

“No, you’re just plain stupid,” you said, trying not to smile and to maintain your previous frustration with him.

Chuckling at that, Tommy replied.

“You’re stunning, love, truly. The classiest and most beautiful woman in any room. And that’s exactly why I don’t need you wearing anything that gives any man even more reason to pay you attention.”

“They know I’m your wife. No one would dare take any liberties,” you reasoned.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean their eyes won’t still be roaming.”

Smiling again, you then reached out to Tommy’s neck and adjusted his tie before responding.

“Well, I’ll make you a deal,” you said with a cheeky smile. “Let me wear this dress to the party, and then as soon as we get home, I’ll take it off so that your eyes can do a little roaming of their own.”

In response, Tommy’s eyes were immediately full of aroused mischief, and he released your arms as he lifted his hand instead and pointed his finger in emphasis.

“Mmmm,” he said. “I like that.”

@xsweetcatastrophe @meister95 @toobusyshrimping @teawonderfultea-blog1 @febris-amatoria

@breakthestereo @novashelby @mostly-marvel-musings @nyxxie-pooh @cillmurphyslover

@wonderlanddreamer @hairica @vastcapacity @allie131313 @myers-meadow

@cillianbabe @fkmarrycill @sl-newsie @randomcreator-09 @galactict3a

@bleakmidwinter00 @ladyvenera @beastofburdenxo @garrison-girl-08 @jbrownta

[carnal-lnstinct]

I’m always so excited for your Halloween event! (And anything you write too 💚)

Can I request my boi Gohan. I love our dorky nerd having a mean dark side. 🥰 If I could get anything either dubcon or cnc with him? Any type of setting is good with me; walking home in the dark, meeting at a bar, or a good old meet up with the Ox Prince 😂

(Off question, which I might have asked you before but memory is terrible, but do you think you’ll write Granolah at any point? 🤔)

〖 OX PRINCE GOHAN X READER 〗 ✦✦Content: M/18+. MINORS DNI. au. established relationship. public sex. rough sex. breeding. overstimulation. referenced squirting.    ✦✦Warning: implied dubcon/cnc. light impact play. ✦✦A/N: I still haven't read the other arcs in the manga to fully absorb and muse over Granolah's character, so it depends on how soon I do that and if he strikes interest to me. I swear I only go through the manga to look at Broly 😭 but we'll see!

It seemed like nothing could break through to Gohan in the heat of this moment, his blood pumping and the sound of his own pulse in his ears smothering out any remaining wariness for your surroundings. He’s past the point of indulging a distraction like a creeping up voice or the floor creaking under approaching footsteps. You’re right here, sobbing under the growing intensity of his body pounding against yours and lacking all the flash and fight you started with. You’re perfectly broken down, now malleable for whatever he wanted you to be. He pulled you flush against his hips, allowing you to keep his cock warm for the moment as he removed the fogged glasses from his eyes to get a better look at you. The Ox Prince admires his handiwork with a tasteful lick of his lips and a languid drag of your body along his length, taking in the mess of his cum and yours glossing up your connection.

You trembled inconsolably from the aftershocks of orgasms and squirts you couldn’t control, let alone recover from. A pitiful whine leaves your lips and your knees buckle a little when he pulls you back to fully sheath himself again making him snicker proudly.

Regardless of how much you shake and sob, you aren’t fixing your mouth to say that word. The only thing to make it all stop. Or, perhaps, you can’t. Nothing but hoarse, shaky croaks on your breath, and a fog in your mind holding you back from the relief you desperately need. Even so, he gave it to you to use as a mercy.

Gohan inviting himself to slap your ass in quick succession just to feel you clamp around his cock reminds you of your shared addiction to the high, which really keeps your safe word sitting in the back of your throat. It doesn’t matter where you are, he’s going to fuck you. You protest and he does it harder, longer. Drawing it out and goading you with those deep strokes against your spot to draw attention knowing you’ll try your best to keep from embarrassing yourself. With that shame stirring back into your mind you find your words again, miraculously letting out pleas for him to end it already, for your sake. You can’t take another build-up anymore than you can keep yourself quiet enough to avoid attention. 

But your begging is all hollow bullshit if you’re not going to say it. Admitting you’re afraid to be caught like this or what Gohan would do in the situation should his temper get the best of him doesn’t stop him. You’re his woman, he’ll have you whenever and wherever he wants and he’s never led you to believe otherwise since you’ve gotten this far in your relationship. Filling you up and watching you shamble around afterward to keep it all in is the mark of a fulfilling fuck.

Gohan takes your leg and turns you onto your back from your position on your knees, your cunt wet and stretched to his size enough that he could do it without pulling out of you. He’s not even giving your pathetic words the time of day. 

He doesn’t waste any of his attention on keeping your hands restrained when you start to push against the roll of his hips, growing into a desperate fuss when his pace finds the angle to make you squeal. It’s downright cathartic to feel the way you claw at his skin, the impact of your palm nudging at his unwavering form raising an uncanny smile on his face. His ki surged with excitement in the form of electricity around his body. Heating him more than before as red flashes in his irises.

[metalbvcky]

Can you believe it's almost been five years since I started writing Steve/Bucky? Half a decade! I started out writing fluff and T-rated only, then the smut gods told me to switch gears, and now here I am with over 60 works, amassing 350k+ words. There hasn't been a day I haven't thought about these two in some way, shape, or form.

I recently made a spreadsheet to track my WIPs, which is unlike me because usually (USUALLY) I write one at a time. Wealp, not this year. I guess 2025 is the year I finally have more than one multi-chap WIP 😂 The good news is the last two I'm not posting until they're completely finished. The bad news is that Dr. Steve and Dark Steve will be neglected for a bit as other muses fight for dominance. I kinda needed a break with Dr. Steve actually, since I got to the point where I always get burnt out on a longfic (around the 30k mark). Either way, just look at all the words I'm writing!

I don't think I'll ever get tired of Stucky 💙🖤

[icey--stars]

You Would Never Hurt Me (Pt. 3)

Azriel has a nightmare about his brothers and Eris has to help his mate without guilt tearing him apart. - 1.5k words.

Initial Request: 16. Nightmares

Ok so I've been scouring your master list and I want to preface this request by saying you can totally ignore it if you want, because I'm afraid it might be a little repetitive but the idea was too good not to share with you:

So I was re reading the fic "You could never hurt me" that was requested by someone else (I love you whoever you are anon) and it clicked. You know how in part 2 Eris is helping him deal with the injuries. How about Az has a nightmare about his childhood cell and how he was burned by his brother's. Eris wakes him up and lights a fire in his palm to light up the dark room. Because of the nightmare Az flinches slightly and Eris thinks it's because of him when really it was a nightmare about his brothers

How would they talk that out

(again I feel after 2 parts of the fic you might be tired of writing the same story again so I just thought I'd share in case you'd ever like to write it in the future)

-💔

A/N: yall, imma be real for one sec: every time you mention the anon who requested the “you would never hurt me” fic I am GIGGLING IN MY SEAT because I’m pretty sure ik who it is and the evidence is there publically 😂. anyway, i am SO sorry this took so long. finals decided to ACTUALLY kill me this semester. but regardless, i hope you enjoy!! I decidedly enjoyed my comfort a lot this time around, but the angst HURTTT to write. my poor azris brain needed them to hug.

TW: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE/VIOLENCE (Azriel's half-brothers are stinky)

{ original prompt list } - { ao3 link }

{ Part 1 } { Part 2 }

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Azriel shivered as the cold of the cellar-made-prison made it into his skin. He’d just barely made it back from his hour with his mother. His hour in warm sunshine. And now? Now he was stuck back in the equivalent of hell. The shadows around him seemed to curl over his shoulders. There was one very dim light source from outside the prison door, but that was all. Azriel lived in the dark, so he’d made friends with it.

His wings ached behind him as he tried to lift them to set them against a more comfortable area of the cold rock.

Well… until he heard stomping coming down the stairs into the cellar. “Oh Azzie~” One of his half-brothers purred. Onyx.

He flinched at the voice as the second one continued, “We have something for you!” Calix.

His two half-brothers came through the door, smirks on their faces. They had a  few things in their hands: rope, a container of something, and a flint & steel. “We have something for you,” Onyx repeated with a smirk, his wings mantled behind him in clear confidence. “Won’t you help us?”

Azriel eyed them hesitantly.

“Out,” Calix growled, grabbing the scrap of clothing he had on to drag him to the center of the room.

Azriel yelped and he landed harshly on his knees, reopening the wounds they’d caused last time they came down here to “give him something.” He could already feel the warm blood seeping through his tattered clothing again.

“Hands out,” Onyx purred.

Azriel flinched as Calix shoved his head to the side, but obeyed hesitantly. If he didn’t, they would grab his “father” and Azriel spoke from experience when he said that was not a good idea. He had so many scars already. Not like anyone saw them though since he was always in the dark.

The rope was wrapped around his wrists and Calix kept him sitting upright. Onyx hummed, grinning evilly.

“What- what are you going to do?” He asked hesitantly.

“Well…” Onyx mused. “I think we’re entitled to know how slowly we heal from burns since the Autumn Court is becoming more unruly. I think it’s only right that we know, after all. Don’t you agree, Azzie?”

Shit, he swore silently. “No… no, you can’t!” He protested. Onyx only laughed as he tried to struggle against Calix who was much too strong to break away from.

The container they brought was opened and he soon discovered it was oil. They poured it over his hands.

“Don’t worry. It’ll only be your hands,” Onyx said. “And don’t fucking scream.”

Onyx picked up the flint & steel and his eyes went wide in realization. Far too slowly.

The flame was set alight and he began screaming at the pain.

–––––

“Azriel!” A voice shouted as he awoke with a start. He rolled out of bed, wings flaring behind him. Where was he? His hands hurt. Didn’t that already happen though? Or were his half-brothers back and he never truly escaped them?

“Azriel,” The voice repeated and he finally turned to see who was making it. Eris.

He took a breath at last, clenching his hands as much as he could as he panted for breath.

Eris lit a flame in his hand and Azriel flinched hard, practically falling over again.

Eris’s eyes went wide and he doused the fire, instead using his magic to light the faelights.

“Az,” he breathed, worry on his face.

“Eris,” He whined, pulling his wings tight and putting his hands into his armpits in a vain attempt at easing whatever pain they were in. He thought he was healed. Wasn’t he? Or was it just residue pain from the nightmare?

Eris slowly got off the bed on the other side, coming around hesitantly. Even his mate was panting.

But Azriel needed something to ground him. He moved forward quickly and even if Eris took a step back, he wrapped his arms around his mate quickly, trying to reorient his mind.

“Az,” Eris whispered quietly, and hesitantly wrapped Azriel in his arms. His voice was shaky, but he commanded gently, “Breathe for me.”

Azriel tried and failed, practically collapsing. Eris gently moved them both to the bed, holding Azriel tightly while Azriel practically clung.

“In with me, Az. Come on,” Eris directed, taking a deep breath in. Azriel forced his body to obey, eyes screwed shut as a few tears slipped out. Why did his hands hurt?

“Hold it, baby,” Eris whispered. “And out slowly. You’re here, Az. In the Auutmn Court in our bedroom.”

Azriel struggled to breathe for a good fifteen minutes or so more before he finally just found himself slumping against Eris in relief once he felt as if he was back in control. His hands didn’t ache anymore at least.

“It was my half-brothers,” He murmured raggedly.

Eris didn’t say anything for a moment. “Are you okay now?” He asked quietly.

“More or less,” Azriel mumbled. “Sorry for scaring you.”

“You didn’t,” Eris murmured. “I thought I did with my fire.”

Azriel shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” He finally settled on and nuzzled closer. “I’d prefer you and your fire over you not being here.”

Eris hummed. “Are you sure none of it was about me… burning you?”

“Eris, I told you,” Azriel said, huffing slightly as he sat up. “I don’t blame you. You never meant to hurt me. You would never hurt me. My half-brothers on the other hand?” He chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly. “They’d have preferred me dead.”

Eris clutched him tighter at that, a small growl coming out. “I would happily hunt them down,” Eris growled.

Azriel chuckled slightly, holding his mate as well. His hands pulsed once and he huffed. “My hands are tight again,” he mumbled in annoyance.

Eris pulled back, clearly unimpressed that it wasn’t the first thing Azriel considered important to tell him. “Let me get the lotion,” He said.

“No. I don’t you to get up. Use your magic,” Azriel mumbled. His shadows came curling around his arms, wrapping around his hands again, providing a cool sensation that eased something tight in his chest.

Eris chuckled. “Let’s reposition first,” he mumbled. “I’ll still hold you close,” the male promised.

Azriel huffed, but got up hesitantly. Eris moved to the back of the bed, sitting up against the pillows. Eris then directed him to lay down with his wings sprawled out to either side of Eris. Eris was peaking over his shoulder and summoned the lotion with a brief flash of flame. Azriel didn’t flinch this time, but he could feel Eris holding him tighter anyway.

“Give me your hands,” Eris directed once he had the lotion in his hands.

Azriel sighed and obeyed, forcing himself to relax against his mate as Eris went through the familiar movements of forcing the muscles in his hands to relax and using the lotion to help the skin loosen. He’d never regain full function, but he had regained enough.

Azriel closed his eyes, humming contentedly as Eris concluded the lotion. “Better?” His mate rumbled.

He nodded. “Better,” He agreed. “They don’t hurt anymore,” he said as he flexed his hands slightly.

“Good,” Eris said, smiling softly. Then his mate went oddly quiet and tensed a little.

Azriel sighed and turned around in his mate’s grip so he was laying on his stomach. “You’re thinking too hard,” he mumbled tiredly. “Stop it.” He poked Eris in his stomach.

His mate scoffed, chuckling softly. “I’m alright, Az.”

“No, I know by now how to identify your sad puppy look,” Azriel mumbled, muffled slightly as he pressed his face into his mate’s chest, seeking the warmth, comfort and grounding it provided.

Eris scoffed. “My sad puppy look?” He repeated incredulously. “What look is that?”

“You look all mopey like Rue when you tell him off for being a nutcase,” Azriel explained, yawning right after.

Eris chuckled. “I can assure you I look nothing like Rue after he decides the farmer’s chicken coop is his house now.”

Azriel chuckled at the memory. “Why do you have the sad puppy look then?” He insisted with a chuckle.

Eris sighed. “You flinched when I tried to light up the room.”

“I’m alright, Eris,” Azriel murmured. “That flinch wasn’t your fault.”

“There’s a reason those memories are being brought up,” Eris insisted.

“I don’t blame you, fireheart. Now stop being all guilty over something you were literally mind-controlled over. It is not your fault,” Azriel insisted, lifting his head enough to meet his mate’s eyes and show his sternness in the order.

Eris sighed and leaned forward to kiss him softly. “Okay,” Eris murmured. “I’ll try.”

Azriel grinned stupidly. “I am not going back to sleep, but you are now my warmer for the rest of the night,” the Illyrian declared.

Eris chuckled softly, running a hand through Azriel’s hair. “I wouldn’t expect anything different, love,” He replied.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

no, icey did not edit this. do they care? not really. hope you enjoyed!

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @skyesayshi, @lilah-asteria,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,

@irithiadourden , @starlightandsouls :)

[reevezs]

//lots of end-of-the-year shouting in this post, sorry if it gets too loud, I'm screaming into a read-more pillow... mostly.

there would be no Zach, Eric, and Ria (and Ver lol) without ByeNYC so:

thanks @byenycfm , its lovely admins, and every single member of the group, I obv won't tag all of you on an indie blog but I LOVE YOU. you're all amazing and amazingly talented, I love your characters. I'm grateful for Ria and her beautiful skeleton bio, thanks for letting me take care of this bby. thank you for *the* brotp I'll never get over, thanks for two heartbreaking ships and three heartwarming ones, for all the crazy headcanons we've got there, whether it's chasing zombies with an RC car or pushing one out of the window or down the stairs... most importantly - thank you for promising you'd come back after the group's hiatus and for actually coming back. we've created a community we wanna return to and we all deserve the biggest hug for that. 💙

thanks for coming back @renegadetulisrp , Old Ass RPers know what's up lol. we've known each other for more than a decade, holy shit. I love you and your babies - don't ever change, add more muses, write more crazy plots, you're one of my favorite reasons I'll always log back here 💙

@pleinsdemuses my bb! I love you and our 1000 verses where we hurt our babies for the plot and hand them some Happy Verse cookies so they don't kill us. my angst, smut, drama partner in crime, I don't think we'll ever run out of ideas. thank you for everything 💙

I don't know if I love us or hate us, @parvumchao , probably a bit of both lmao. it sounds like a threat, but I'll follow you everywhere, the dash without you is shitty. I love your muses - we don't have a single happy thread *shrugs*, but I really do 💙

@nikkiitalks , let's ruin our muses and cry over them like we're not responsible for their misery! thank you for finding me years ago and for keeping me. or for letting me keep you. I don't know, we're just holding hands and follow each other everywhere and that's how it should be 💙

another partner in chomper crime! I'm so happy you and your ocs joined BNYC, @myriadxofxmuses , so now our lovely nerd ship can sail in two verses, giving us diabetes! it wouldn't be the same without you, my dash here wouldn't be the same without you, I'm so happy I've met you! 💙

@ayakoito first-time husbands muns, I'm so happy for these two! we can have 100 threads and they find a new way to make me AWWW in every single one. we can ramble about everything and anything and I'm so happy to have you, but I'm sure you will understand when I say thank you for teaching me the most important word ever: verschlimmbesserung. 😂💙

thinking "oh god, so much cringe" already? it gets worse. more hugs and thank yous:

@plotsjotsandespressoshot and your girls - I apologize for being a shit partner and I miss writing with you, so we need a new thread or ten now lol 💙

@kierankyleculkin you hurt a bot but I think you're lovely 💙

@impcrsonatcr my fellow h.alsey human, big hugs! 💙

@thefvrious & @ghostsxagain and your chef's kiss muses - I'm a fan 💙

@dontcxckitup , @richardxoliverxmayhew , @kit-just-kit - I don't think you'll mind if I put your trio like this? that's how I see you, guys lol. your muses are among my all-time favorites. 💙

speaking of favorites - @notsoinnocentlittleangel I want you to know that Joanna is one of my favorite female ocs ever 💙

@brokenblondeprincess and pierogi is a full sentence 💙

@rcbf4 it's "Adam", not "Jake" 😂💙

@sugarandwhiskey and your lovely bby - thanks for popping on my dash 💙

@emeryfleming @corxunum @ghostsandmirrors @formaechao @heartxshaped-bruises @crew-from-capulet @bewitchingbaker @thxnymph @poisonedfire @brooklynislandgirl @thatslayer @facepeeled @alwaysanangcl - seeing you on the dash makes me happy 💙

people I've followed since my indie debut, @cheapxseats @heartonanoose - idk if you're still around, we haven't had a thread together in ages but thank you for the ones we had in the past 💙

[justmystyles]

hi! your angst is so so good! could you please write something angsty around the Selena Gomez song “Lose You to Love Me” kind of about a girl learning to love herself after a toxic love with Harry and then them reuniting after growing up years later, please?

Lose You to Love Me

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 4.2k

summary: a run-in with your childhood sweetheart brings up old memories, and lingering feelings.

a/n: my friend, you have no idea what you've done sending this ask in. technically you do, because I posted about it after i received it. but this song popped into my head a little over a week ago, and has been running up there on repeat. it's been making me think about my life and relationships, and being all reflective or whatever. i hate it. 😂

I have been thinking about this story pretty much non-stop since you sent the ask, and was so exited to finally get it written. i hope it's what you were looking for, and that you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

also, a note about the story, the italicized parts are flashbacks.

i know we’re on all on edge after last night, so why not throw some angst in there to make it worse!

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

As you moved through the streets of London, you were so focused on making it to your destination that you weren’t paying attention to the faces passing you by. 

But he was, and he recognized yours immediately. 

“Y/N?” 

You froze in place, causing the person walking behind you to crash into you. You apologized and stepped off to the side, looking in the direction of the voice. “Harry,” you breathed out. 

Before you could fully process what was happening, Harry had rushed up to you, pulling you into his arms. You closed your eyes, even after all this time he still gave the best hugs. Your mind flashed with memories of all the times you found yourself in his arms. Good and bad. 

“I can’t believe it’s you!” He spoke against your neck before pulling back, taking your hands in his as he looked you up and down. “You look amazing. All grown up.” 

“Yeah, you too.” You took him in, he had definitely filled out since the last time you saw him. Of course you knew that, no matter how hard you tried to get away from him, you never could get that clean break you so desired. That’s what happens when your ex is one of the biggest stars in the world. 

“Gosh, it’s been ages.” He muses. 

You purse your lips and nod. “Eleven years.” You feel a knot in your stomach, thinking back to the last time you two spoke. 

“Harry, it’s just not fair to me.” You move the speaker away from your mouth, hoping he doesn’t hear your breath hitch.

“And you think you’re being fair to me? This is my dream, Y/N, and I can’t even enjoy it because I’ve got you making me feel bad, or like I’m doing something wrong every time I talk to you!” 

“Yeah, well you were my dream.” Your voice is quiet, defeated. “But I guess it’s time for me to wake up.” 

Harry is silent on the other end of the phone for a moment. “What,” he lets out a deep breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You wipe your eyes, sniffling softly. “It means I can’t do this anymore. You’re living your life, you’re finding your way in the world. I need to go off and do the same. Alone.” 

Harry gives you a sad smile. “I tried to reach out a few times, I didn’t like how we left things.”

“I know, me either.” You agreed. “But I needed to just sever the tie. It would have been too hard otherwise.” 

“I’m sorry,” you look at him curiously. “For how I handled things, for how it ended…”

You held your hand up to stop him. “We were just kids, you were eighteen and an international pop star, you handled things as best you could.” 

He smiled gratefully at you. “Do you, uh… do you have some time? Maybe we could grab a coffee and catch up?” 

Your mind is begging you to say no, but your mouth doesn’t listen, agreeing immediately. “But I’ll pass on the coffee.’ 

“Still?” He smirks, remembering how much you hated coffee. “Some things never change.” 

****

The two of you order drinks, and get settled at a quiet corner table in a small coffee shop, the conversation starts off simple enough, you catch each other up on your families, you tell him about your career, and how you had relocated to London three years ago for a big promotion. He shares a couple of stories of some of his more memorable moments over the years. 

Even after a decade apart, you still managed to fall into conversation with ease. From the moment you had met when you were kids, there was this instant comfort between the two of you. It was no surprise to anyone when you started dating at fifteen. You were inseparable, going everywhere together. You were there at his XFactor audition, you supported him every step of the way. It was when things really started taking off for him that everything changed. 

“Hi angel,” Harry’s voice was low and raspy, that’s when you realized you forgot to take the time change into consideration before you called. 

“Oh my gosh H, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up, I–”

You’re cut off by his laughter. “It’s alright, I like when you wake me up.​​ To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Mum is taking me dress shopping for formal today, I just wanted to see if you had any ideas what you’d be wearing. We could coordinate!” There was a long silence as you waited for him to respond. “Harry?” You asked. Maybe he had fallen back to sleep. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” You could hear him shifting on the other end of the phone. “I have some bad news actually.” He sighed before continuing. “They booked us a bunch of shows in the US, I’m not going to be able to come home for the dance.” 

“Oh,” you did your best to mask the disappointment. It was just a dance, Harry was doing amazing things, and you needed to be supportive of that. 

“Angel, I’m so sorry, I really tried…” 

“No, don’t worry. It’s fine, really.” You assured him while also trying to assure yourself. 

You heard a knocking on the other side of the phone, and muffled voices. “Fuck, I’ve gotta go Y/N. I’m so sorry, I love you. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know H. I love you too.” 

“Okay, we’ll talk soon. I promise.” The call disconnects before you can respond. 

That was the beginning of the end for your young love. You had put on a happy face for everyone, especially Harry, but your family and friends were able to see right through it. He probably would have too had he actually been there. 

You ended up going to your formal with your friends, but as they danced and laughed, you sat on the sidelines, staring at your phone waiting for a call or a text from Harry. And that’s what your life became from there on. 

When Harry would come home, things would be better, but still not what it was. Because he’d be gone for such long stretches, his time was spread so thin when he was home. He would want to spend time with everyone, which didn’t leave enough time for the two of you. You would tag along as much as you could, but your one on one time was lacking. It got to a point where you couldn’t even go out on dates, constantly being bombarded by people asking for pictures or autographs. 

That’s when you decided to spend your time behind closed doors. Harry said it was so he could focus on you, but part of you wondered if it was so that he could keep you secret. You knew that there were girls all over the world that wanted to be with him, his team knew that was part of the marketability of him, of the whole group. The second the two of you stopped hanging out publicly, the insecurities started creeping in. From then on, every time you saw a picture of him with another girl, you wondered who she was, why it was okay for him to be seen with her and not you. 

As the two of you continued to talk, you glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit,” you interrupt him. “I’m so sorry Harry, I actually have to go. I have a meeting I need to get to.” You stand from your seat and collect your things. Harry stands with you.

“Yeah, of course.” You could have sworn there was a hint of disappointment in his tone. “Hey, you should come to the show tonight. If you’re free I mean.” 

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course, it’s Wembley. How many times did we talk about this?” 

“A lot,” you smile wistfully, remembering those conversations. Whenever he was feeling discouraged about his journey, you would always be right there to pick him up, assuring him it was going to work out. That he’d be onstage at the famed stadium, and you’d be right there cheering him on. 

“It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Full circle and all that.” He said with a smile. “Besides, the whole family is going to be there. I’m sure mum and Gem would love to see you.” 

It would be nice to see his family again. You had been all but officially adopted into the clan, spending holidays, dinners, birthdays with them. You were at Harry’s house just as much as you were at your own, possibly more. Sure, you had mourned the loss of your relationship with Harry, but it also broke you that you lost that second family. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” You agree. 

“Amazing.” He pulled you in for a tight hug. “I’ll see you tonight. Just check in at the box office when you get there, I’ll take care of everything.” 

****

You made it to your meeting on time, but you were anything but present. Your mind kept going back to Harry, how great he looked, how happy he was to see you. And then the memories started flooding back. 

“Y/N?” Your mother’s voice and gentle knock on the door call your attention away from your phone. 

“Yeah?” 

She sticks her head into your room. “We’re leaving in five minutes, are you ready?” 

“Ready?” You suddenly remember that your parents were supposed to be taking you and your sister out to dinner. “Oh, I uh… no. I think I’m going to pass if that’s okay?” 

“But honey, we’re going to your favorite restaurant.” You could see the concern spread across her face. 

“I know, but Harry is supposed to call and check in. We haven’t had a proper phone date in weeks. I want to make sure I don’t miss him.” 

“Y/N…” your mother says in a warning tone. After Harry missed out on formal, you had completely changed. You’d go to school, and then immediately come home waiting to hear from him. You would drop everything the second his name popped up on your phone screen.

“Mum, next time. I promise.” 

Your mother lets out a sigh and nods, leaving you alone. 

About an hour later, your phone pinged with a text from Harry. 

Sorry love, can’t call tonight. Talk to you soon, promise. XO

****

After your meeting, you slipped out of the office. You knew you weren’t going to get anything done today. Besides, you needed to find something to wear tonight. You called Heather, your oldest and closest friends, asking her to meet you at one of your favorite shops. 

You told her about your run-in with Harry, and his invitation to go to his show. 

“You said no, right?” 

“Yeah, I said no. That’s why we’re here, you’re helping me pick an outfit for a concert I’m not going to.” you rolled your eyes.  

“Y/N, I say this as your friend, this is a terrible idea and you definitely shouldn’t go.” She says completely seriously. “Do you even remember what life was like for you back then?” 

“Come on!” Heather grabbed your arm, trying to pull you out of the booth. “Come dance with us!”

You pull out of her grip, checking your phone for a notification. “I can’t H-”

“Harry’s going to call,” she finishes your sentence. “Y/N, you’re both my friends, but you’re my best friend, so I’m going to be real with you. Harry’s a wakner.”

“Hey,” you reply defensively. “He is not, he’s just really busy. He’s kind of a big deal, you know?”

“I do know. And I also know that while you’re sitting here staring at your phone, you’re missing out on life. But he’s out there living it. You deserve better than that.” 

“Right, and in a couple of months I’ll be living that life with him.” 

Heather’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not going to university.” You state plainly, her eyes go wide in shock. “Harry is going to get me a job on his team. It won’t be glamorous, and it probably won’t pay much, but we’ll be together and everything will be good again.” 

“Have you told your parents about this plan?”

“I have, they aren’t happy about it, but I’m eighteen, so there isn’t really anything they can do about it.” 

“And you really think this is the best idea?” She asks you.

“Yes,” you say, a little louder than intended but you needed to get your point across. “Harry and I are supposed to be together, and if this is how it needs to happen, this is how it’s going to happen.” You grab your purse and stand from your seat. “I’m going home, it’s too loud here for me to hear him anyway.” 

After that, you stopped going out when your friends invited you. They didn’t understand your relationship, and they were always on your case about it. It was easier to just stay home and wait for Harry. Eventually, the invitations stopped coming. You were fine with that. It made it easier for you to focus on Harry, and be there when he had time for you. 

As far as the job, that never happened. About a week after you graduated, you received a call from Harry. He told you that he fought for you, all the guys did, but his team said they weren’t able to make a spot for you. 

You were devastated, but you did your best to hide it from him. That didn’t last very long, however, as that was the point where the cracks in your facade of ‘supportive girlfriend’ started coming through. You started seeing what everyone had been telling you, that Harry was out there conquering the world while you were putting your life on hold, spending your life by the phone waiting for a quick text or five minute phone call.

****

When you arrived at Wembley, you gave your name at the window and were immediately ushered to a backstage VIP area. You walked in and smiled to yourself at the turnout. You recognized almost everyone in the room. You stayed by the door, not wanting to interrupt when Gemma’s eyes traveled in your direction, She did a double take before smiling wide and running to you. 

“Y/N, I can’t believe it!” She pulled you into a tight hug, which you quickly returned. “Harry told us he ran into you, and invited you to the show. But I wasn’t sure you’d actually come!” 

You giggled at her excitement. “Of course I’m here, I told him I’d come.” 

“I know, but you’re so nice, I figured you’d say that to his face and then just disappear.” You both laughed, before she took you by the hand, leading you into the group. “Come on, we have so much to catch up on!” 

You went around the room, greeting those you had known a decade ago, and meeting the new members of Harry’s entourage. Everyone was so happy to see you, you were being pulled in a million different directions trying to catch up with everyone. They had told you that Harry was with them earlier, but had to leave to get ready. You were grateful for that. It would have been too much to be there with him, and his family. 

**** When it was time to go out to the front of house, Gemma locked her arm in yours and you walked together. She stayed by your side the whole night. The two of you were always close, she had always treated you like you were sisters. Often joking that someday Harry would make it official. She made you promise not to leave without giving her your number, she said she wasn’t about to let another ten years go by without seeing you again. 

The show was incredible. Harry was incredible. As you watched him up there, you felt your chest swell with pride. Despite what had transpired between the two of you, you couldn’t help but get emotional watching him live the dream that the two of you had spent so much time talking about. He had done it, but on a level that neither of you could have even imagined. 

As you listened on, your mind wandered, thinking about the girls those songs were about. The girls that had come after you. You felt tears begin to pool in your eyes as you remembered the first one. 

“Come on guys, put it away. Y/N is going to be here any minute.” You heard Heather plead. “This is her first time out since the breakup, she doesn’t need to see it.” 

After the phone call where you ended your relationship, you were inconsolable. You cried nonstop, mourning your relationship, the future you were supposed to have, and all the time you wasted waiting for him. Your friends would come over often, but they would mostly just hold you and offer words of encouragement to you as you cried. Nobody was able to get through to you, they weren’t even sure how. 

About two months after the breakup, you got this surge of determination. Harry had taken away enough of your life, you weren’t going to let him do it anymore. You texted Heather, and she agreed to gather all your friends for dinner. 

You walked in and saw her trying to pull the phone out of her boyfriend’s hands. “What don’t I need to see?” You ask, everyone’s attention snapping to you. 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Heather assured you. 

You nodded, leaning in to hug your friend, quickly diverting and grabbing the phone out of her hand. You looked down at the screen and saw a paparazzi shot of Harry walking hand in hand with Taylor Swift, it was an article about the budding relationship between the two singers. 

“Oh,” you said, dropping the phone on the table. “I uh… I just remembered I’ve got to…” your brain was too cloudy to come up with an excuse, not that they would believe it anyway. You turned and rushed out of the restaurant. Heather hot on your heels. 

“Y/N, wait!” She followed you as you ducked into a nearby alleyway, getting to you just in time to watch your back slide down the wall. 

You wrapped your arms around your knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. Heather sat down next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her. 

“I… he… I…” You couldn’t form words, too upset to do anything but cry. 

“I know babe, I know.” Heather said in a soft tone, rubbing your back comfortably. “I told you he was a wanker.” 

You chuckled lightly, your breathing starting to return to normal. You looked up at your friend with tear stained cheeks, your breath hitching as you regained composure. “We just broke up. I’ve been locked in my room crying, and he’s been with her.” 

“He’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re so much better than all of this.” She held your face in her hands and gave you a determined look. “You’re a fucking catch Y/N, he’s an idiot for not seeing that.” You nod, pretending you agree with her. “Let’s get you home. We’ll get a bunch of junk food and watch sad movies. Get all the tears out.” 

“Hey Y/N, you alright?” Gemma pulls you from your thoughts. 

You suddenly realize the house lights are up, and people are filing out of the stadium. “Oh yeah, sorry. It’s just crazy to think that he went from the weird boy with the dumb jokes to that,” you gesture toward the stage.

“Oh, he’s still the weird boy, he’s just telling his dumb jokes to a whole lot more people.” She joked, slinging her arm around your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go backstage.” 

“Oh, no no no, you go. I should…”

“Not a chance,” she interrupted you. “You’ve gotta come back and see him.” You narrow your eyes at her, wondering why it was so important that you see him, but she just smiles innocently and leads you back to the VIP room. 

****

You and Gemma get comfortable on a couch in the back corner of the room, so lost in conversation that you don’t even notice when all eyes in the room land on the door, cheering Harry as he enters. He walks through, offering hugs and handshakes, thanking people for coming and graciously receiving compliments on his performance. 

Once he’s made his way to the back, he stops, silently observing you and his sister gossiping and giggling just like you always had. 

“You’d better not be talking about me, or I’m telling mum.” His voice pulls you from your conversation, and you both turn to look at him. 

Gemma grins and jumps from her seat. “You were outstanding.” She pulled him into a hug, saying something to him in a hushed tone. 

He smiled gratefully at her as she sat back down, Harry turned to you with a curious expression. “Well? What did you think?” 

“H,” his nickname fell so easily from your lips, as if you had never been apart. You stood up, looking at him with so much awe that he was taken aback. “You did it. I’m so,” you sigh with a shrug. “It was incredible.” 

He smiled, dimples on full display. “Thank you, angel. You have no idea what that means to me.” He steps in front of you, pulling you into a firm embrace. You were so lost in the moment that it didn’t even register that he had called you by his pet name for you. 

Gemma stood behind you, making sure to get Harry’s attention, she winked at him with a smirk before matriculating back into the crowd, allowing you two a moment. 

When you finally separated, Harry looked down at you, his gaze so intense that you felt your cheeks heating up. “I should probably go,” you finally speak up.

“No, wait.” He says in a panicked tone. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” 

You furrow your brow, not expecting that. He’s in a room full of the most important people in his life, and he wants to be alone with you? “Yeah, sure.”

He leads you out of the VIP area and down the hall to his dressing room. He opens the door, signaling for you to enter. He follows behind you, closing the door once you both cross the threshold. 

You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before Harry finally breaks the silence. “I’m really glad you came tonight.” 

“Me too, thank you for inviting me.” You smile, trying to hide your nerves. 

“I, uh…” he takes a breath, running his hand through his hair. “I miss you.” 

You look up at him in confusion. “Harry, it’s been eleven years.” 

“And I’ve missed you the entire time.” He took a couple of cautious steps towards you. “I was so stupid back then, so stupid. I know I wasn’t fair to you.” 

“I told you, it’s fine, you were a kid. You did the best you could.” You assured him.

“I think running into you today was fate.” He ignores your words and keeps going. “We’ve both grown up, I’ve grown up. I see what’s important in life now.” 

“Harry…” 

“There were so many times I wanted to call you. So many things that happened that I wanted to celebrate with you, but I couldn’t. Every sold out show, every award, all of it, you were the first person I wanted to tell.” 

You were speechless. You were listening to his words, watching the vulnerability in his face, all of it completely overwhelming you. Out of everything that could have come from your run in with Harry, this was probably the last thing you would have expected. 

“I don’t… what?” Was all you managed to choke out. 

“Listen, I’m not saying we jump right back in and pick up where we left off,” your eyes went wide at his words. “I broke your trust, that’s something I need to earn back. But I’d like to try, if you’d let me.” 

“Try…”

He reached out, taking your hand and sighing in relief when you didn’t pull away. “I want to show you that I can be what you need, what you deserve.” 

“What are you asking?” You ask, searching his face as if it held the answers. 

“I just want to be in your life again, be your friend. I want to get to know you now, I want you to get to know me now, and see where things go from there.” 

You stood in silence, looking into Harry’s eyes, butterflies filling your stomach at the way he’s looking at you. You nod your head slowly. “Okay,” you respond, barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah?” He asks hopefully, you nod with a smile and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “Thank you thank you thank you. I promise I’m not going to mess this up.” You chuckle against his chest. “What’s so funny?” 

“Heather is going to kill me.” 

A bark of laughter escapes him. “I’ll protect you,” he places a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m not going to lose you again.” 

[royal-bubble-tea]

It's Hongjoong's Birthday!! And I wanted to write something short and sweet, like the Captain himself, for his birthday.

Ateez - Imagine - Hongjoong

Hongjoong x gn! Reader

Hongjoong who knows he is not the tallest person out there. Hell, everyone in his team is taller than him. But he does not care. His presence can fill an entire room. And it was his confidence that caught your attention. But what made you stick around was his loving and giving nature. Accepting you for who you are. Not caring if you are taller, smaller or the same height as him. He choose you for your character.

Hongjoong who is really into fashion, who wants to design his own clothes and brand. So please let him dress you up. Be his muse. If you are also interested in fashion he would be so delighted and you two would gush to each other for hours about the latest trends. But if you are not into fashion, that would be no problem at all. He would love to explain to you his likes and dislikes, his process and what he cares about in fashion.

He would be so surprised and happy if you visit him in his studio. Even if it happens on a regular basis he would develope literal heart eyes if you show up, even mkre if you bring food. Hongjoong would show you his music equipment, explaining it to you with a passion. He would have a blast sitting there and watching you or joining in on making beats or trying to create a melody. He would definetly keep all of you "experiments" no matter how bad they might be.

Hongjoong would slowly introduce you to the rest of Ateez, starting with Seonghwa as a more safe option. You two would get along but to Hongjoong's demise you met your partner in crime in Wooyoung. At first he would try to calm the two of you down, but after some time he just stopped and is now trying to stay far away from this combination. But not to far away. He need your attention.

On that note he would act hurt if his mom was showering you in love or if you would give a little to much attention to another member. He would come over and grab your hands, move you on his lap or make it obvious in some other way that you were his. He is not a fan of showing public affection, but when it comes to you that man is so possessive. Because in the end you are his and his only.

Well this was rather short, but I wanted to write something cute to celebrate Hongjoong's Birthday.

(Btw I think it is absolutely hilarious that Wooyoung spoiled our Captain's birthday MD😂🤭)