#I know he's been out for a minute and I really shouldn't dip into my savings more BUT-

[blushblush-readerinsertsnthings]

cole makes me think of how my mom reacts when i accidentally sneak up on her n when she turns around and sees me shes just like jesus christ wear a bell

saying this to Cole will result in 100000 instant regret

or maybe not

like he sneaks up on you, you say this

and the first words out of this little bitch's mouth are

"oh, so... you'd prefer if I wear a collar...? do you have one picked out for me~?"

PLEASE BULLY HIM

[formosusiniquis]

This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played

steddie | G | WC: 1154

---

“Hey baby, can you?”

“No.”

Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”

“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”

“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.

“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”

He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”

“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.

“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.

“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”

He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”

“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”

It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.

“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”

“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”

“You aren't on speaker.”

“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”

“I don't recall.”

“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”

“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”

“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”

“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”

“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”

The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.

“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”

“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”

It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”

The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”

That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”

The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”

“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”

“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.

“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”

“Aspen, thank you really!”

Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”

[georgeclarkesgf]

forgetful | george clarke

the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.

"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"

"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"

he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.

"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.

"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.

"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."

now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.

"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.

"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.

she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.

he decided on the latter.

--------

it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.

"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"

"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.

"okay. can we talk about it?"

"i've said my peace. you go."

"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."

george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.

in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.

"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."

"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."

and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.

a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Older Eddie x Reader

Smutty, slightly angsty mini fic, minors shoo, 18+

🖤

You shouldn't be here. You knew that. But after a final fight with your boyfriend Dominic you had come to the one person that you felt safe with.

Eddie Munson's reputation in the town proceeded him, he was the big bad wolf that everyone should stay away from, had woman eating out of the palm of his hands and didn't give a fuck what anyone though.

Eddie was your next door neighbour and you'd been intrigued by him from the minute you seen him.

He was also so fucking hot. Panty dropping hot, and you were having the best sex of your life with him for the last few weeks.

You knock on his door and he opens it, he's standing all smug, a giant smirk on his face. "What brings you here at this time princess?"

He knows what you're doing here he always knows but he's just teasing you, tying you up in knots with how good he looked. His messy curls are tied up in a bun and he's wearing those jeans that makes his ass look amazing, the leather jacket that you loved.

"Let me guess? Dominic was being an asshole and you came running to me to make you feel better hmm sweetheart?" he plays with a strand of your hair, it flusters you immediately. His touch never fails to send you in a spin.

"I really like being with you Eddie" you murmur and it's the truth. The honesty in your voice must throw him as he's quiet for a minute.

"You like how I make you come so hard that you almost black out. That I fuck you senseless and in a way that your useless prick of a boyfriend could never do ... and princess? It's my fucking pleasure" he murmurs and tugs you close to him.

He's so cocky, so sure of himself but it's not like he isn't telling the truth.

"Get on the bed sweetheart. When I'm done with you, you won't even remember that dickheads name"

...

Eddie moves to kiss your neck, uses his fingers to pleasure you, pumping in and out of your sweet spot and sending spasms of pleasure through.

He's made quick work of your clothes and thrown them on the floor, along with his jeans. His lips move down your body and it's like they are everywhere, burning into your skin.

It's been a few days since you were last here and you've missed this. The exquisite pleasure only Eddie could give you.

Eddie is in no hurry to rush any of this, takes his time as works you into a frenzy, has you so wet and mewling for him.

"Please Eddie, I need you" You moan and his brown eyes fill with amusement as he strokes your cheek, his lips hover over yours.

"Oh sweetheart you're so fucking needy for me, does your limp dick boyfriend get you this hot... No. Of course he doesn't" he chuckles.

Taking him by surprise you manage to end up on top of him. Straddling him and your hands run down his chest, moving slow and watching as his eyes fill with lust.

"So fucking beautiful" his eyes rake hungrily over you body and he dips his head down to your breasts and sucks, kisses and leaves gentle bites over them.

His thrusts grow more erratic as you ride him faster and faster, fierce kisses are exchanged and Eddie's head throws back as he moans. "Fuck that's it princess. I love how fucking amazing you feel"

When you come you almost see stars. Feel Eddie moan as he stills and spills into you, his thrusts slowing as he leaves lazy kisses over your neck.

🖤

It's a little while later and you're sprawled beside Eddie, boneless and just wanting to close the distance between you and be close to him.

But this isn't like that. You'd love to stay and cuddle, love to be with him like you want to.

Eddie gets up and stretches. "Have to head to Gareth's. Will you be okay seeing yourself out princess?" he asks as he gets dressed and you smile even if you don't feel like it.

He leans down and kisses you briefly then he heads out. There's a hollow feeling in your chest and you cuddle back into the pillow for a second, get lose in the scent of Eddie's cologne just for a little bit.

You get up and dress quickly, then leave but there an ache inside you that so badly wants this to be more. Does he even want that? He's made it clear that this was just sex to him.

It's obvious that it means so much more to you and you sigh sadly, you were falling in love with someone who had no intention of wanting anything more with you...

With that thought you head into your car with a heavy heart.

[golden1u5t]

mistakes | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: angst + fluff

ꨄ summary: you and spencer break up because he chose to believe someone else over you.

you phone had rang a million times, eventually you turned it off because you were tired of seeing the same name pop up each time: spencer. you couldn't imagine why he'd kept calling you over and over if he was the one who broke up with you because he thought you had cheated on him.

when everything had happened, you tried to explain to him that you didn't cheat and you were at home the entire day and the picture he saw was a picture from years ago. you don't know who sent the picture to him but it was a picture someone you used to know took of you at a party kissing some guy, it was old and way before spencer.

you hadn't gotten out of bed in a few days, only to shower and brush your teeth. your friends, really only one because the rest of your friends were spencer's friends and they absolutely hated you at the moment, came over to make sure you were okay.

a knock on your door pulled you away from your bed, you figured it was just your friend but when you opened the door it most definitely wasn't. spencer stood at the door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, he was drenched

from the rain pouring.

you were upset with him and hurt but you weren't about to let him stand out there and get sick. "what is wrong with you? get in here before you get sick!"

"why are you here?" you crossed your arms over your chest and glanced over his entire frame. spencer held the flowers out for you to grab, you hesitatingly took them from him and brought them up to your nose.

you knew why he was here, to apologize and try to get you back. quiet frankly, you would problaby go back to him just because he'd only broken up with you a few days ago and because spencer is honestly the best man you've ever met and been with.

"you were at home, like you said. i should've believed you, i'm sorry. just- can we talk about this- us?" he pushed his hair out of his face. you stared at him for a few minutes before nodding your head.

what's the worst that could happen?

"i'm sure you still have some clothes here and because i'm not a horrible person, you can go shower and stay here until the storm passes." you mumbled and moved past him.

when spencer got out of the shower, he found you sitting in the living room scrolling through your phone. you looked up when you felt the couch dip beside you. you shifted on the couch until your body was sideways on it, you drew your legs up to your chest and stared expectingly at him.

"better get to talking before you're walking home in the rain."

spencer had to suppress the smile threatening to show, he liked that you were still just as snappy as before. he cleared his throat and started to tap his hand against his pants.

"i'm so unbelievably sorry. I should have believed you when you told me that the picture was old, I shouldn't have believed an unknown number before you." he looked down to his hands before looking back up, you hummed in agreement and continued to stare at him.

"i'm sorry that I ruined everything we had, it was a huge mistake and i realize that now. i've hardly slept since everything happened. you were the only person that stayed with me despite my job being the way it is."

"because i love you, that's why I dealt with it. when you came to me with those accusations, i wish you could've felt what I felt. ive never felt a heartbreak like that before." you wrapped your arms around your legs. it was silent for a few minutes, just you and him staring at each other, thought's racing in your minds.

"would you ever consi-"

"yes," you didn't even let him get the question out because you already knew what he would say. yes, you would consider getting back together with him and really there would be no thinking about it. "in a heart beat. i would get back with you because I love you and- and even though you hurt me, i still understand why you did it."

spencer opened his mouth to say something but you held up your hand because you weren't done. "i know that i'm your first real relationship and your vulnerable when it comes to me, you'll believe anything that's believable. you've seen what's happened with other's relationships because of your job so it's only reasonable that deep down you would be scared that i would cheat or find someone better, if that's even possible."

"you should become a profiler with your ability to read people." he couldn't help but crack a small joke but he knew that you were right, everything you said was true and there was no denying it. you let your legs down and nudged his thigh.

"i was thinking about it, really. i mean, id get to be with you every second of the day. didn't you say your boss was looking to fill a spot?" you reasoning was absolutely horrible but it made spencer laugh, a sound you'd missed hearing.

you moved closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. the second your skin touched his, he pulled you into him and held you so tight you almost couldn't breath.

"god, i missed you so much. i'll never to that again." he breathed, you nodded the best you could.

“you better not, i won't forgive you as easily if you do."

[the-universal-sun]

stan putting off regressing when he needed to and having a meltdown with fidds and/or ford helping? ❤️

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a few days. I've been a little sick these past few days, so I've been away from my computer for the most part. But I'm feeling much better now! This takes place in the 80s, an AU where Stan and Fiddleford got Ford back after a couple of years!

There is a scene wherein Stan briefly hits his head with his hands, starting at "When that doesn't work..." and ending at the end of that small paragraph.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. In the house, the soft hum of the evening felt insistent, like the ticking of a clock that grew louder with each passing minute. Stan sat in the living room, surrounded by the comforting chaos of his brother’s ramshackle house. The creaking floorboards seemed to echo his thoughts. He could feel that familiar pull, that soft haze and gentle fuzzy feeling tugging at the back of his mind-an urge he’s learned to resist being tempted by. Though there were the reassurances of both Stanford and Fiddleford that there was nothing wrong with him, that how his head gets sometimes is completely okay, that they loved taking care of him. Stan got up and paced the cluttered floor, his mind racing as he tried to drown out the world around him. He felt the familiar tug at his mind—the sensation that he kept trying to ignore all day. All week, really. Doodles lay scattered across the floor, evidence of his battle with the sensations that enveloped him. Every time he absentmindedly started coloring or drawing, he felt a wave of anxiety choke him, leading him to tear the paper into shreds and toss them into the trashcan.

     It's not that Stan doesn't like it, the fuzzy feeling he gets, but it's embarrassing, he's a grown man approaching 30, dammit! He shouldn't be carrying around a stuffed bear, coloring, and playing with blocks while two other grown men flutter around and coo at him! Sometimes when he's in town, he can feel people's eyes on him, like they know what happens-like they're judging him, like he's a freak. He can feel the need crawl around and itch under his skin. But he can't! He needs to prove to himself that he's capable of acting and being an adult! That he is an adult!

     "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Stan chants, frustrated by his own harried thoughts, wanting his mind to calm down and let him be, to escape the fuzzy haze creeping up on him. For all these thoughts to leave his head. He brings his hands up and pulls on his hair, hoping the pain can bring some clarity to his mind. When that doesn't work, he switches to hitting his hand with his palms, muttering "stop it, stop it, stop it..." with each hit until he feels six-fingered hands grab his wrists and pull them down with a-

     "Stanley, stop!" It's Ford who's grabbing his hands, his face drawn. He doesn't look angry, he looks upset-distraught-but not angry. Stan thinks he wants him to be angry, to yell and fight him and treat him like a damn adult. "What are you doing? What's happened?"

     "Nothin' happened. I'm fine." Stan bites out, trying to pull his hands back from his brother's iron grip to no avail. "Let go of me, Stanford. I need-I need to go" He pulls harder, almost wrenching his shoulders out before he feels another pair of hands come up and gently but firmly grasp his shoulders. Why do they have to be so gentle with him? Even when he's acting normal, when they get into arguments or small fights, there's no hitting or punching-nothing beyond the play fighting Ford and Stan will do sometimes. Stan's not used to it, not after violence has been his life for almost a decade.

     "What ya' need to do is calm down and talk to us, Stanley. Let Ford and I help, we're worried about you." He hears Fidds' voice in his ear behind him, his hands on his shoulders. Ford's hands firmly but gently held his wrists. Stan wants too badly to sink into that haze, to let them coddle him and hug and rock him, but he can't. He doesn't even know why anymore, why he hasn't let himself indulge.

     "Well stop worrying about me-I'm a grown-ass man and I can deal with myself." He can see Ford's eyes shift to look behind him, a silent conversation with Fidds. Usually, that would bother him, but right now he just wants to get out from their grasp, go to his room, and hide away from them-and the world-until he can get his head on straight.

     "I think I'm starting to understand what the problem is here. Stanley, it's been approximately 10 days since you've gone down-" that's what they call it when Stan's head gets fuzzy and he acts like a kid-"and after months of the same routine, your mind and body are used to going down at least twice a week. It's safe to say you're just in need of-"

     "No! I'm not in need of anything 'cept you letting go of! Me!" He tries to wrench himself to the side but crashes to his knees with a stilted sob as Fidds' arms wrap around his body from behind just as he makes his move. Why did they have to push this? To have his body so used to these feelings that he now needs it to function? Why did they have to care for him. He doesn't sob, he refuses to say he did. Stan just brings his hands up-Ford let go when Stan made his move-and presses his face into them so hard he can see stars bursting out from the darkness. "I can't do this," he muttered piteously into his hands, his voice warbling and throat feeling thick. " 'M not a kid, I don't need this. I shouldn't need this. I need to grow up." He wants to cry, he wants to go under, he wants Poindexter. Stan just wants to noise in his head to stop. He whines, feeling Ford kneel and bring an arm around him, Fidds laying his head down and Stan's shoulder and nuzzling it, shushing and humming.

     "Stanley...It's alright to feel like you do, and it's alright to feel frustrated by it. You've lived a hard life, and we both know comfort like this was a rarity in our home. But you can be safe here," Ford sits down next to Stan, his knees aching from the kneeling. "Fiddleford and I would never judge you, Lee. We love taking care of you."

     "But why? Why do you like taking care of me when I act like that-like a kid? Why do you care about me?" Stan's voice breaks on his last word, tears bubbling up to the surface and spilling down his cheeks, dripping and staining Stan's sweats.

     "What's not to care about, Stan?" It's Fiddleford who answers this time, Ford seemingly at a loss for words at Stan's questions. "You're such a kind-hearted and warm fella. You care so deeply about your friends and family, I know you'd go to the ends of the earth and then some for 'em. And you're funny as all get out. Real hoot, I'd say. Caring for you is like a breath of fresh air, Stanley. It soothes m' soul. So you can be tiny if you need to, Bubs." Fiddleford's words get a small laugh/scoff out of Stan, the kind words bringing some warmth to his heart. But he looks towards Ford, needing to hear him say something, anything. A confirmation that he does care for Stan. And his words hit like a gut punch.

     "I love you, Stanley. You're my twin, my best friend from birth. You never judged me for my hands, for my curiosities and obsessions. You protected me from bullies and my own thoughts. You came at my darkest hour to help me, even after we were estranged for a decade. You made a life and job for yourself here, you paid off my loans and debt. You brought in F and helped him stop his memory gun usage. Stanley, you worked tirelessly for two years to bring me back after the portal incident. You're my hero, you always have been. And I can't possibly describe how much joy it brings me to see you unwind and relax, to look so happy, to be so happy. I love caring for you, truly, from the bottom of my heart, to be someone you can trust to protect you. I love you." And that does it, Stan's sobbing into his arms, into Ford's arms, his heart feels like it's bursting, and he can feel himself plummet down. His mind calming as his fuzzy haze washes over it, his mind losing the battle as soon as Ford finishes speaking, the confirmation that he is so loved is what he needed, he realized. That he wasn't some weird burden on them when this happens, that he didn't have to be an adult all the time. He hasn't felt this loved in forever and hasn't ever been cared for as he is now.

     He's still sobbing into Ford's arms as he's led up the stairs into his room, a pair of hands changing him into his softest sweater-it's got footballs all over it-and wrapping him up in his Teddy Bear blankie. He blinks and sniffles as he feels cold wetness swipe across his face, Fidds had wet a wash cloth and was wiping the tears from his eyes. Stan smiled at him, giggling when Fidds smiles back with a goofy grin. Sixer helps him lay down in bed and tucks Poindexter in his arms-still cocooned in his blankie-brushing his hair back and away from his forehead, like Ma' used to do when they were really young.

     "There we go, Lee, feeling nice and comfortable and cozy? Is Poindexter tucked in enough?" Fidds asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, tucking the quilt under Stan's legs even tighter, knowing how much he liked that feeling. He nods and mumbles, not feeling up to speaking. He just wants to lie there with Poindexter, Sixer, and Fidds and stay in this hazy feeling forever, his body aches now that he's relaxing, he was so tense for days. "That's good. I've gotcha here a book to listen to, is that alright?" That's more than alright to Stan, who just nods and hopes Fidds does the voices for the book, he loves it when they do voices for the people in his books.

     "Here, Lee, let's not chew on your friend's ear. I've got you something better." His brother says, guiding Poindexter's ear out of Stan's mouth. He didn't even realize he was chewing on it. He gives his stuffy an apologetic pat as Ford guides Stan's pacifier into his mouth. It's got a car on it that's made to look like "The Stanley Mobile". It's so cool. Ford made it as a surprise for Stan a few weeks ago. He snuffles behind it, leaning his cocooned and burritoed body into Ford's as he settles down beside him, an arm reaching over and cuddling Stan as close to his body as possible. Stan just snuggles into his shoulder, feeling his breathing and matching it, leaching his brother's warmth and hearing his matching heartbeat.

     "There was once a Velveteen Rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid..." Stan just relaxes into his brother's warmth as he finds himself enraptured in Fidds' storytelling. His mind finally calmed and his heart sated and happy.

[sugar-omi]

Thought about accidentally sending a nude to Cove (or anyone of your choice) 👀

Like MC was trying to send him a picture of something else but accidentally tapped on a nude they took the night before and WHOOPS! Now Cove is going back and forth with himself between typing up a reply and deleting what he wrote and just screaming into his pillow because he just saw his best friend/crush naked and it’s still on his phone screen and he has to see them tomorrow because they always do but he doesn’t know if it’ll be better to see each other tomorrow or wait a bit until things are “less awkward” and he is BURSTING at the seams

Bonus if he feels guilty because he saves the photo anyways for………….. research purposes 👀

MY EYES ARE WIDE OPEN. I DIDNT EXPECT IT TO GO THAT WAY....

that's such a good thought, though... especially if while he's fumbling, you're freaking out, but also way too curious to know what he'll say so you don't delete it...

and in a moment of bravery, text him before he can say anything to your apology or about the image.. "although.. you can keep it if you like"

his eyes FALL out his head. what do you mean he can keep the image?!?;!^!

he probably doesn't even respond. and if he does, it's just a "it's okay" because he's too shaken to say anything else. doesn't know what to say. "you look pretty", "you're so sexy", "thanks for the nude"????

which.. is probably worse than any of those options if you're already nervous n floundering over te accident.

if you want a bit more satisfaction, are genuinely worried you made him uncomfortable, or just reassurance for what you already know... go ahead and ask if he's uncomfortable, or mad at you, or whatever.

it takes a minute but eventually you get a "...no, im not upset.. or uncomfortable..."

please move on after that because if you linger on the topic anymore, he'll be on life support 🙏

and he does hold onto that image... can't bring himself to download it, that's too much for his poor heart. and even though it'd only be proper to delete the message.. he doesn’t. he tries, his finger hovering over the button.

even though you said he could... keep it. he shouldn't, right? no matter how long he sits in turmoil, his respect for you and his teenage hormones raging against each other...

eventually one wins, because he's been so restless all day. his stomach twisting with something foreign. his eyes wandered to your body when he saw you at the beach that day, and he remembered the picture, trying to ignore how his sex throbbed and the subsequent tightening of his shorts...

really, he has more control than this usually. his voice of reason, more like selfconsciousness, too strong.

but his fingers flicker across his phone, and they find the way back to that image, that damn image that's been haunting him. his brain begging him to remember every curve and dip, freckle, and scar on your body.

he knows what your body looks like, you grew up together. he knows where most of your beauty marks are, your freckles, your scars, knows if your skin is seamless, and he's sleepily traced any acne scars on your biceps.

he knows the shape of you, the leanness and the cords of muscle in your arms and thighs. recognizes you just by looking at your back.

so it's not hard for him to imagine your nude body after that, especially since he couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen fast enough when you sent it.

and even now, he's finding any of those hidden treasures right now as his eyes rake over your body, his hand wrapping around his cock as he shamefully imagines you with him. touching him. touching you.

imagines his lips on your hip bones, kissing your body like it's a prayer.

your voice is always so clear in his ears, he can't help but imagine the way you'd call his name... thinks back to all the times you've laughed happily or groaned tiredly, or moaned in pain...

his mind twists the knowledge of you, your lovely voice, and your heavenly touch. imagines you calling his name, gasping at his touch...

finally spills his cum all over his hand, his head collapsing on his pillow, covers his face, sparks of pleasure still running through him...

realizes post nut clarity is fucking real, and he doesn't know how he's gonna be able to look at you tomorrow...

[youaremystar1024]

〖 You love it, don't you. 〗part. 1

Summary: You attended the concert to support you boyfriend, Mingi. But he might have been a bit overboard, showing the audience what is only for you to see. Slightly jealous, you thought about the ways to punish him, making him reveal his submissive side...

Pairing: Mingi!idol!bf x Y/N!afab

♡: SMUT! MDNI! Pet names, mommy kink, declined orgasm, hard sex, overstimulating, m!f!oral receiving, punishing, unprotected sex (protection pls ✋)

------------------------♡------------------------

You love it don't you...My dirty little slut.

You pulled him closer by the pet collar around his neck, whispering into his ear.

Didn't Mommy warn you about getting too freaky on stage? You loved the attention given to you...that you forgot about me?

Mingi's collar clinked as he couldn't help but nod, he had completely fallen into your control. He was seated patiently, his strong and muscular arms tied together behind the chair, by the leather belt that says MINGI on it. He was half naked, leaving his upper body exposed to the cool air of the hotel room. His nipples perked up and his defined abs shuddered at the softest touch. At this point of your relationship, you both knew the kinks each other had, and Mingi definitly enjoys being on the submissive side.

You continued, Use your words baby...you really are a whore, aren't you

Y-yes...Mommy, I'm sorry...

I think our baby still deserves some kind of punishment don't you think?

You tapped on your chin and pretended to be puzzeled. You know what, you will watch me tonight and you can't touch yourself... until I approve

Mingi opened his mouth, trying to fight back. But Y/N...please, I know you want it too. I mean, look at you.

You looked down at your lacey thong, and saw the embarrassingly large wet spot. You pressed a finger against his lips and simply replied, hush hush baby, do as I say

You backed up and laid down on the bed, slowly spreading your legs wide in front of your boyfriend. You rubbed small circles around your clit, moaning softly at the longing pleasure. Mingi was right , you wanted it just as much as he does. But you are not letting him win today, not tonight. You slipped out of your undergarments and threw it by your boyfriend's foot. Mingi groaned at the sight. Your slick covered pussy glistened under the dimly lit room. He could see your hole pulsing occasionally, desperate for some kind of friction.

Seeing his lover all spread out for him made him harder than ever. He felt his leather pants get tighter and tighter. Then you dipped your fingers into your folds, collecting more transparent substance from your cunt, spreading it around your cunt. Then you cleaned up your slender fingers, just like a kitten. Soon you pushed a finger inside...and another one...then the next one. You both sighed over the sight of your tight, pink entrance as it swallowed up all of your fingers.

At that point, Mingi was drooling over you, getting pussy drunk, untouched.

Y/N...you look so pretty just like that.

You looked at him and blushed, then remembered that this was supposed to be his punishment so he shouldn't be enjoying it ;) You quickly hid your smirk and looked back at him. That's when you noticed his bulge...It was so big that you could see it twitch against the tight material that held it back. You cooed at him,

You also look so pretty, being such a nice doll for me, all tied up

Gently, you put your feet on his crotch, pressing down and testing the waters. His body jerked at your touch. He was turned on, and was definitely not satisfied for being hard for over an hour. You rubbed and circled his crotch area. Just when Mingi was about to buck into you again. You removed your leg away from him.

Then you straddled between his thick thighs and seated yourself on him, right on top of his bulge. Slowly, you began to grind on him, rubbing you sensitive nub against the rough material of his pants. After a few minutes, you were both heated up, dark eyes filled with lust, moans and pants filled up the entire room.

Uh-uhgh I wanna come already, Mingi sighed.

No not yet sweetie, Mommy never allowed you to, you purred back.

He sulked at you for declining his orgasm. You got off and lowered yourself right between his thighs, only inches away from his core. Maybe if my baby does a good job for me, then I'll reward him...

Mommy, I'll be a good boy for you.

You smiled at his answer, finding him cute. Next you quickly got to work and unbuckled his belt and removed his clothes, leaving him in only his boxers. You pulled down the remaining piece of clothing and gaaped at the sight of him. You guys have done this various times already, but something about him seemed...different. His dick sprung up and smacked his lower abdomen. Mingi is huge, veins decorating the sides of his member. His tip was angry and bright red, seeking for a tight little pussy you bury inside. Precum leaked out of his slit and spilled down his shaft.

Hunger filled your eyes as you moved your mouth closer to his private area. First you showered him with pecks and small kitten licks, gaining yourself breathy moans from your lover. Then you gently wrapped your plump lips around the tip, and descended down onto him, filling your mouth full of him. It was impossible to fit all of him at one go. You still tried your best to not gag on him as it hit the very back of your throat. You sucked him off in a pleasurable, steady pace, and with each bob, his dick reached even deeper in your throat. Mingi felt himself getting closer to release, he suddenly bucked his hips, causing you to choke on him. (Choke me daddy) You felt him blocking your airways then tears spilled out of your eyes. Mingi thought he hurted you and felt guilty. He lowered himself and licked yout tears away,

Im so sorry baby, I really didnt mean to... Are you ok..?

You blinked a few times then smiled at him, reassuring him that you're alright. Then you got back to work. This time you bobbed your head much faster, causing Mingi to tip off the edge. He bit his bottom lip and let his head fall back, muffled moans and low groans slipped out of his vocal chords. Of course that turned you on. You could feel your arousal slipping out of your entrance and dripping onto the floor. Your own moans vibrated through his cock, and that was it for your boy. He let out one last moan and ropes of white cum spurted out into your mouth. Saltiness continued to fill your mouth as you tried to swallow down his essence.

Awhh...unghh..uhh..., he panted.

Mingi slowly calmed down from his high, he wouldn't be lying if he said that was one of his most intense orgasm. After you swallowed it all, you opened your mouth to prove that finished every last drop of his cum. Mingi sighed at the sight. Puffy eyes, abused throat and swollen lips...sighh he is so in love with you.

Mommy, thankyou...

Oh baby, did you have fun?

Yes...in return, let me do you too.

You nodded and released him from the handcuffs that held his veiny arms together.

Tell me you'll behave, then I'm all yours

Both of you moved onto the bed. Then you spread out automatically in front him. His mouth fell apart when he saw your exposed body on full display...just for him. He towered over you,feeling the gain of dominance again.

I'm sure I'll make it up to you Mommy

Mingi pouted before he plunged into your lips.

@wisejudgedragonhairdo 🤍

[cosmal]

cake — send me in a character and a prompt and i’ll write you a blurb!

tasm!peter x reader who’s insecure about their stretch marks or hip dips or being flat chested!!! literally any or all of those. he’d be the most comforting ever I’m swooning. (this is not self indulgent at all btw)

spiderwebs

summary peter makes you feel better about your stretch marks.

content tasm!peterparker x fem!reader, reader has body image issues

note mal i love you for this shut up. also I love u.

Peter is kissing you. He's been kissing you for the past ten minutes and you feel like your entire body is on fire.

He hovers above you but still keeps his weight pushed into your torso until you feel breathless with it. Where his elbow is firm up against your side, and his hand at your throat with his thumb in your pulse point.

You feel like you could melt right into the mattress every time he sucks on your bottom lip or when he pulls away to look at you. He blinks hard and says, "Shit," under his breath like he's amazed. You feel quite alike.

He sneaks down the bed, pushing the heavy quilt down until it slides off to the floor. He looks up at you where you're panting, head turned to the side and pushed into your pillow. A smile that Peter thinks is quite unravelling. He starts to push your shirt up, over the bump of your belly and holds it below your bralette.

He starts to kiss along your stomach and you freeze. He peppers tiny wet smacks over the skin you really wish he wouldn't. Weeks of doing your best of keeping your top on around him and hiding yourself from your boyfriend unravel and you shouldn't be this terrified about it.

You push your hands into his curls and say his name. He seems too busy. "Hey, baby," you say quietly, voice shaky when you don't want it to be.

Peter must feel you tense up. He lifts his face and looks worried, hair a mess and eyebrows pinched. His swollen lips glisten under the light on his bedside table.

"You okay?'' he asks gently, sitting up on his arm. "Did I do something?"

You feel worse when he asks because it's not his fault. You shouldn't be so jumpy around your boyfriend when he touches you. "No, I just..." you can't find it in you to explain it to him because you feel stupid. Especially when he'd been loving on you so hard.

"You're not feeling sick?" he gets up and tucks his feet under him to kneel, half a breath away from a panic.

You sit up too, leaning back on your elbows, frowning. "No, I'm...I'm okay, don't worry about it, baby."

He smooths a hand down your stomach and you tense up again unthinkingly. "You sure you're okay?"

You duck your head down and worry you're acting childish. "It's silly."

He squeezes your thigh and smiles something that calms you more than you think he knows. Soft eyes and even worse cheeks, appled and creased around his mouth. "I'm sure it's not."

"I just," you bite your tongue for a moment and work up enough courage to say more. It doesn't take much because he's just Pete. He'd never make you feel bad for feeling things. "I have stretch marks down there. Like on my belly and my hips."

Peter grins. "I know right." Your stomach churns. "They're so cool, huh?"

"What?"

He holds your hip and it startles you how much you don't hate it this time. His thumb traces over the marks absentmindedly like he already knows their path. "They're so pretty."

Your mouth feels a little dry. "Pete..."

He tamps it down a notch, nibbling his bottom lip unthinkingly. "Sorry, okay..." he starts, shuffling up the bed to meet you. "I love them."

"You do?" It's easier to stare at his nose than look into his sparkly eyes.

"Yeah," he nods, hair all floppy, "I think they're amazing."

"They're not ugly?" You hate yourself when you ask it. You're not sure why you do.

"Not at all. Look," he lifts up his shirt and turns to face his hip to you, "I have them too. Grew up too fast, I think."

You reach out to touch them. Running your fingertips over the marks along his hip and in towards his tummy. You think they look a lot nicer on him than they do you. You hum under your breath, you'd never noticed them before, and if you did, they hadn't bothered you one bit. You think he must feel the same way.

"They're pretty," you say quietly, more to yourself. You feel him shiver under your light touch.

"Not as much as yours." Pete falls down again until he's leaning over your stomach again. He kisses over them and you don't feel the need to tell him to stop this time. You relax like butter in the hot sun. You feel just as warm.

He suckles the soft skin and you twitch. "Pete," you gasp.

He pulls back looking proud, mouth popping crudely. "Yours are like little spiderwebs."

You feel a little dizzy suddenly, your arms wobbling under your weight. You lay back down before Peter can make fun of you for it. "Spiderwebs, huh?" you say breathlessly to the ceiling.

"Yeah," he agrees. Suddenly he's above you. Boyish grin that burns brighter than the downlight you were staring at. You close your eyes lest you're blinded by his charm. "It's like a part of me on you. Not as sticky though."

"Jesus," you giggle.

"Do you have any more?" he suddenly asks.

"Huh?"

He bounces up. "Any other marks? I wanna kiss them all. Gotta show my girl how much I love them."

"Peter, no."

"No, you don't have any, or no you don't want me to kiss you?" he asks incredulously. "That's really mean, baby."

"You're unbelievable." You can't help but laugh some more.

"Quick, give me your arms, I wanna look." Peter reaches for you and you roll over out of his grasp.

Peter searches until he finds them. You're less than horrified when he does, you're genuinely happy you have others he can touch. He kisses them for what feels like hours until you convince him it's your turn.

You kiss his until he's putty.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (see full series list here)

1994

The waiting is killing you. Killing you. The glassy surface of the Black Lake is still and unmoving, showing no signs of life beneath its waters.

At least with the dragon task you were able to watch Harry as he dipped and dived, roaring and cheering for him...but here, you just have to wait. Agonisingly wait for that messy mop of black hair to emerge.

"Come on, come on..." you mutter anxiously, drumming your fingers on the bench beneath you. "Where is he..."

"I'm sure he'll be up soon," Remus assures from beside you, his eyes fixed on the lake too. "He's clever. So clever to use that gillyweed! Ingenious, really."

You're so glad Remus was able to come out for this task. Otherwise, you think you might have jumped into the lake after Harry already.

"That's what you think," you say. "I just hope he isn't half as daft as his father."

"He isn't," Remus replies firmly. "But he's just as brave."

Well, he's definitely brave anyway. Resourceful, quick-thinking, yes. Clever — perhaps not so much. You recall the time he handed up astronomy homework that said the sun revolves around Earth in a counter-clockwise movement — a conclusion that you have absolutely no idea how he came to.

Fleur was the first to come back, she returned ages ago, though without her hostage. She had emerged with several cuts across her face, her robes tattered and torn after she had been attacked by Grindylows. Madam Pomfrey has been busy dabbing at her with different ointments and ingredients for the past while.

A great splash and a large gulp of air reaches your ears and your eyes search for the source of the sound — Cedric Diggory's head is now bobbing just above the surface of the lake, with a drenched Cho Chang in his arms as they make their way towards the land. You clap loudly for him, proud to see one of your students be the first back with their hostage, but still worried for Harry. Your gaze quickly returns to the lake and once again, you wait.

While Cedric and Cho are given towels and are getting dried off, a solid five minutes passes and Viktor Krum is next to break the surface of the lake, though his head has been oddly morphed into some kind of half-shark. Hermione is bobbing beside him, looking very pale as her teeth chatter. He pulls her to the land and you get out of your seat, hurrying over to her with Remus in tow.

"Alright, Hermione?" You ask, grabbing one of the thick blankets and draping it over her shoulders.

"Y-yep!" She smiles at you, teeth clashing together with the cold, her hair dripping freezing droplets of water onto her shoulders. "Hello, M-mr Lupin!"

Remus gives her a smile. "Hello, Hermione. Lovely to see you again."

Just Harry left.

Everyone waits, anticipating the arrival of the last champion any moment now.

"What is he doing down there?" You muse, worry lining your voice.

"Perhaps he's fallen asleep," Remus jokes and you elbow him, giving him a very unamused look.

"I don't find you funny, Remus! I actually find you incredibly unfunny!" You snap. "You shouldn't joke about that."

"He will be fine," Remus continues. "Seriously. Dumbledore wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, you know that."

"He's let plenty of bad things happen to him before," you scoff, clicking your tongue.

Then, to your immense relief, Harry's head finally splashes to the surface, holding onto Ron and...also onto Fleur Delacour's hostage, her younger sister.

Cheers and screams arise from the crowd, and Harry and Ron start to pull Fleur's sister through the water and up onto the bank, where the judges are standing.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she hurt?" Fleur shouts hysterically as she fights to free herself from Madame Maxime's strong grip.

You have to laugh when you see Ron's older brother, Percy, grabbing hold of his brother and dragging him to the bank fussily.

Madam Pomfrey immediately seizes Harry, throwing another thick blanket over him and pouring a searing-hot potion down his throat. Steam gushes out of his ears.

"Oh, thank goodness, Harry!" You exclaim, giving him a quick hug. "I thought you were never going to show up!"

"She thought of every single thing that could've gone wrong and seemed to believe that they had all happened to you," Remus tells him, grinning mischievously. Harry smiles back. "Good job, by the way. Very clever to use the gillyweed."

Hermione is of the same mind. "Well done, Harry! You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well — " he pauses momentarily. " — Yeah, that's right."

Dumbledore, who had been hunched over at the side of the lake, deep in conversation with what looks to be the chief merperson, now straightens up and addresses the judges. "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges all go into a huddle, whispering together. Madam Pomfrey fetches Ron and plops him down beside Harry, throwing a blanket around him.

Fleur Delacour makes her way over, escaping Madam Pomfrey's clutches. "You saved her," she says breathlessly to Harry. "Even though she was not your hostage."

"Yeah."

Fleur swoops down and kisses Harry twice on both cheeks, causing Harry's pale skin to now turn a furious shade of crimson. You have to bring your hand to your mouth to stop your laugh, sharing a glance with Remus.

"And you too, you helped — " she says to Ron.

Ron looks extremely hopeful, enthusiastically saying, "Yeah, yeah, a bit — "

Fleur kisses him too and you don't miss the way Hermione looks positively furious, turning away and clicking her tongue disapprovingly. Ron looks delighted, watching as Fleur departs to go find her sister once again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows..."

Everyone in the stands go quiet, listening intently to what Ludo Bagman is saying.

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Applause.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside of the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Karkaroff claps extremely hard, looking especially superior. You feel the urge to push him into the lake.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continues. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges — " Bagman shoots a particularly nasty look at Karkaroff, " — feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However...Mr Potter's score is forty-five points."

Your heart leaps and you turn to beam at Harry, clapping enthusiastically. "Oh, brilliant, Harry! Well done!"

Harry has a large grin on his face, smiling at Ron and Hermione as they voice their praises.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," says Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

The weather is surprisingly nice and sunny for once, though you suspect it won't last very long. Yesterday there was such torrential rain you thought the castle might blow apart, and now it is blissfully calm and still and bright. You take advantage of this luck to sit out in the grounds under a large tree, reading a book and writing a letter to your parents.

You used to come out to this tree all the time as kids. A very specific one — not far from the banks of the Black Lake. You, Alice, and Lily would sit on the grass under it chatting and doing homework (or pretending to do it) whenever the weather allowed. Sirius and the rest of the boys would often interrupt these sessions to pull pranks, flirt and just generally annoy you.

You say annoy, but they didn't really. Your heart used to leap when you'd see Sirius strolling down towards you with his very Sirius swagger, knowing that he was heading straight for you and no one else.

"Professor!"

You look up, turning your head to see your three favourite students heading towards you, Harry leading the trio with a scrap of parchment in his hands.

"Hello, you three," you say with a smile, shutting your book closed to give them your full attention. "Something up?"

Harry hands you the parchment, and you instantly notice that the contents are very short, and that you recognise the messy handwriting.

Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.

"That...are you telling me Sirius is in Hogsmeade?"

"Sure looks it, doesn't it?" Hermione says.

"That twat," you say tensely, handing the parchment back to Harry. Hermione raises her eyebrows. "I mean, really, it's as if he's asking to be caught!"

"That's what I said!" Harry agrees heatedly.

"Look, he's made it this far, hasn't he?" says Ron. "And it's not like the place is swarming with Dementors anymore."

You bite your lip, thinking. "I suppose you have a good point, Ron. I'll save my berating for Saturday."

You heart is thrumming in your chest, excitement coursing through your body. You'll get to see him. Really see him. Though you want to give out for his recklessness, you secretly want to praise him for it. All this risk, just to see you and Harry? How sweet.

Stupid, really. But sweet all the same!

You should probably take a quick trip home before you see him, bring him some of his own clothes from the house. You do have a few of his shirts and jumpers in your chambers, but you usually wear those to bed and you're not sure if you're too keen on giving those away.

"Well, I can handle the food, no problem," you say to them, stretching out your arms. "Bitsy will be delighted...I'll wait outside Dervish and Banges for you and we can all go together."

Harry nods. "Do you think he's actually going to be there? Or will it be some weird kind of magic again?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "He'll be there this time. Don't know what exactly he's planning, but he'll be there."

Later that day, you stand in front of your second group of fourth-years for their astronomy class. Slytherins and Ravenclaws tonight.

"Let's see...Ms Parkinson, can you tell me the difference between an umbra and a penumbra?" You look down at Pansy Parkinson, who startles immediately and tears her eyes away from whatever she was reading under her desk.

"Uh...well..." she looks to her friend beside her for help and you sigh, shaking your head.

"Parkinson, what are you reading?" You ask.

"Nothing."

You raise your eyebrows. "Doesn't look like nothing to me. Hand it to me and start listening, please."

Pansy sighs, pulling out a magazine and reluctantly handing it to you. You glance at the cover: Witch Weekly.

You toss it on your desk and return to your lesson, not missing the way Pansy Parkinson tosses dirty looks your way for the rest of it. At the end, you expect her to come up and collect the magazine once again, but instead she just hurries out of the tower with her friends.

"Parkinson, your magazine!" You call, but she doesn't return for it. You shrug, picking it up yourself and leaning back in your chair, idly flicking through the pages. Most of it is pure sensationalism, a few recipes here and there, some ads...and then there's one article that catches your eye.

HARRY POTTER'S SECRET HEARTACHE

A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.

"She’s really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that’s how she's doing it."

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.

You're seething. Absolutely livid. You're going to kill Rita Skeeter. What a disgusting, low-life bitch.

I mean really, how desperate for a story does she have to be that she decides to get scoops on teenagers? You're currently envisioning picking up that vile crocodile-skin clutch of hers and smacking her across the face with it.

Poor Hermione and poor Harry! You just hope they haven't seen that article.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

The sun shines upon your exceptionally heavy bag, full of food, and on the other in your hand, full of Sirius' clothes. He's all you've been able to think about this past week. Of course, he's all you ever think about, but you've just been brimming with so much excitement at the prospect of seeing him you haven't been able to focus properly on anything.

You feel young again, like you're going on your first date with Sirius once more. How wonderful it would be to relive that perfect day. You'd gone to Hogsmeade together on a snowy day in January, you went to the Three Broomsticks, totally snogged —

But today, you're going to be accompanied by your godson and his two friends.

Perhaps not as romantic as you would hope.

"Merlin, what have you got in there?" Ron asks in amazement when they near Dervish and Banges, taking in the sight of your bulging bags.

You shrug. "Clothes and food. Nothing too fancy."

Ron raises his eyebrows at you.

You sigh, clutching the bags tighter and the four of your start walking down the street, to the edge of the village. The winding lane leads you out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade and towards the large mountain beside it.

"Have you been out this way before, professor?" Hermione asks curiously, looking around her in wonderment.

"Oh, plenty of times," you reply. "We used to go exploring every time we came to Hogsmeade. Now, if I know Sirius, I know exactly where he'll be..."

You turn a corner and spot a stile at the end of the lane. Sure enough, waiting for you there with his paws on the topmost bar, is a very large, very shaggy black dog, who is carrying a bundle of newspapers in his mouth and looking very familiar...

"Hey, Sirius," Harry greets when you reach him.

You feel your heart leap at the very sight of him, chuckling when he sniffs your bag and wags his tail in approval. He turns and starts to trot away from you, and you quickly clamber over the stile to hurry after him.

Sirius leads you to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground is covered in boulders and rocks. It's easy for him, of course, with his four legs, but the rest of you find it considerably more difficult and as you climb higher you find yourself out of breath.

For nearly half an hour you follow him, following a steep and stony path, the sun beating down on your already sweaty skin. You can feel the straps of your bag cutting into your shoulders and your feet starting to burn.

"I'm going to strangle you when this is over," you shout, and Sirius barks once indignantly. "Harry, you should've brought your broomstick."

Harry laughs and mutters something in agreement, continuing to follow after Sirius.

At last, Sirius disappears from sight through a narrow fissure in the rock and you reluctantly squeeze through it, finding yourself in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope tied around a large rock, is Buckbeak. You bow to him, and after scrutinising your for a moment, his front knees bend to you. Hermione rushes forward to stroke his feathery neck, but you're too focused on the black dog, which has now transformed into your husband.

He's wearing the same raggedy grey robes he was wearing when he first escaped Azkaban. His hair is longer than it was when you and Harry had talked to him in the fireplace, and it's become matted and knotted again. He looks very thin.

"Food!" He says hoarsely after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth, looking to you pleadingly.

You toss the food bag at him and immediately his face lights up when he pulls open the drawstring, pulling out a a chicken drumstick and tearing into it.

"Thanks," he says. "I've been living off rats mostly."

"I can tell," you say, worry creeping into your voice.

"I can't steal too much from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

He grins at you and you sigh, opening up the other bag of clothes and pulling out a shirt, inspecting it. Sirius looks surprised to see it.

"These might be a bit big on you now..." you say, moving to hold it up in front of his chest, clicking your tongue thoughtfully. "But anything's better than those dirty robes you have on."

"I was trying to look edgy."

You snort, rolling your eyes and returning the shirt to the bag, holding it out for him to take.

Sirius smiles at you, his expression softening as his eyes flicker over your face as if he's committing it to memory for the umpteenth time. "I missed you," he says quietly.

"I missed you too," you reply, leaning up to give him a light kiss on the lips, conscious of the fact that Ron, Harry, and Hermione are still here with you, before pulling away. He sits down on the cave floor, patting the spot beside him.

You smile, sitting down and motioning for the kids to join you.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry asks.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather," Sirius says simply, pulling another drumstick from the bag and starting to eat it. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

He grins again, but upon seeing the anxious look on Harry's face, he says more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter...well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws them out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's been getting worried..."

He nods at the yellowing Daily Prophets he'd thrown on the ground, and Ron bends down to pick one up and unfold it.

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?" Harry asks, and you share in the worried look on his face.

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here that know I'm an Animagus," he says, shrugging.

"You shouldn't have come, Sirius," you say quietly. "It's far too dangerous."

"I'm careful, love. I know how to take care of myself," he reassures you, though you're not fully convinced.

Harry and Ron are busy reading over the newspapers' headlines.

"I have so much to tell you," you say, a small smile spreading over your face, before your shrug. "Good and bad things."

"I can't wait to hear about them," Sirius replies genuinely. "Everything. I'll listen for days."

You open your mouth to start relaying everything to him, but Harry speaks before you and you quickly shut it, remembering the more important things right now.

"They're making it sound like Crouch's dying," says Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here..."

"Wouldn't be a big loss," you mutter bitterly.

"You don't like him?" Ron says curiously.

"Not one bit," you say, grinding your teeth angrily. "You know he's the one who sent Sirius to Azkaban?"

Ron's surprised expression, along with Hermione and Harry's, tells you they did not.

"What?"

"You're kidding!"

"She most certainly is not," Sirius says, his expression darkening. "He used to be Head of Magical Law Enforcement, don't you know?"

"And he used to be my boss," you add, wincing.

"Wait, you worked in law enforcement?" Hermione asks curiously.

"Sure did. I trained to be an Auror but I never completed my training because of...well, everything."

"And you never went back?" Harry questions.

"Never. You think I could work for that horrible man ever again?" You spit, feeling your blood boil. "None of my co-workers ever looked at me the same after that night, anyway. It was awful."

"Like at the World Cup..." Harry mutters thoughtfully, remembering.

"What happened at the World Cup?" Sirius asks immediately, giving you a questioning look.

"Nothing, Sirius," you say dismissively. "Crouch was just being as difficult as he's always been."

"Did he say something to you?" You can see the worry on Sirius' face, his protectiveness showing through. You can't help the small part of you that's happy to see that he's worried about what could've happened.

You bite your lip, hesitating. "He accused me of casting the Dark Mark."

"What?" Sirius says indignantly. "Why would he ever think that?"

"Sirius." You give him an obvious look, holding up your left hand and wiggling your fingers, the gleaming gems on your wedding ring twinkling in the light. "Why do you think?"

He raises his eyebrows, a guilty look passing over his face. "I'm sorry."

You squint at him, perplexed. "For what, Sirius? You know well you're not the one who needs to apologise."

"Well — "

"Sirius," you say firmly, but giving him a soft look all the same. "Don't feel guilty for any of that, please. None of this is your fault. Besides, you know I'm well fit to take care of myself." You grin at him at the last bit, and he smiles back, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron tells Sirius. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I seen him up close," says Harry, eyes still focused on the paper. "The night my name came out of the goblet..."

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" says Hermione bitterly, an edge to her voice. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron mutters to you two in exasperation. Sirius, however, looks quite interested.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," Harry replies, and he launches into the tale of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand in her hand. When he finishes, Sirius gets up and begins to pace up and down the cave, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Let me get this straight," Sirius says after a while. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," Harry, Ron, and Hermione say together.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," Harry answers. "I think he'd said he was too busy."

Sirius continues to pace around the cave in silence, and you have to smile at the concentrated look on his face, a look you've seen a million times before but not for a long time.

"Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm..." He pauses, thinking. "No. I didn't need to use it before we got into the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars." He stares at Sirius for a moment. "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," says Sirius.

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insists.

"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," says Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continues to pace. "Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," says Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers...Cornelius Fudge...the Malfoys..."

"The Malfoys!" Says Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoes all around the cave. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"Anyone else?" Sirius asks.

"No one," says Harry.

"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Hermione reminds him.

"Oh, yeah..."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," remarks Sirius, still pacing. "What's he like?"

"He's okay," says Harry. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he, now?" Sirius frowns deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me," Harry shrugs.

Sirius hums thoughtfully.

"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione tells him. She nudges Harry and Ron. "Remember?"

"But he didn't stay in the forest, did he?" says Ron. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."

"How do you know?" Hermione shoots back. "How do you know where he Disapparated to?"

"Come off it," says Ron incredulously. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"

"It's more likely he did it than Winky," Hermione says snippily.

"Told you," Ron says in annoyance, looking meaningfully at you and Sirius. "Told you she's obsessed with house — "

Sirius holds up a hand to silence Ron. "When the Dark Mark was conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

"Went to look in the bushes," Harry replies, "but there wasn't anyone else there."

"Of course," Sirius mutters, pacing up and down. "Of course, he'd want to pin it on anybody but his own elf...and then he sacked her."

"Yes." Hermione's face is flushed and she raises her voice venomously. "He sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled."

"Hermione, will you give it a rest with he elf!" Ron snaps.

Sirius shakes his head. "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

Sirius runs a hand down his face, clearly thinking hard.

"All these absences of Barty Crouch's...he goes to the trouble of making sure his house elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too..."

"It's not like him," you finish, and Sirius nods.

"My thoughts exactly. If he's ever taken a day off work for illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak." He turns to the kids and begins to explain. "He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, — "

You scoff quietly.

" — powerfully magical, and power-hungry, too. Oh, never a Voldemort supporter," he says, reading the look on Harry's face. "No, Barty Crouch was always very out-spoken against the dark side. But then a lot of people who were against the dark side...well, you wouldn't understand...you're too young..."

"I think they know far more than they let on, Sirius," you say knowingly, winking at the trio. "Give it a go."

A grin flashes across Sirius face and he shrugs. "All right, I'll try you. Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You’re scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing...the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don’t know what to do, they’re trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere....confusion, panic...that’s how it used to be."

He describes it perfectly. You remember the fear and the horror, the constant fear that you'd go to sleep one night and it might be your last. The worry that you'd kiss Sirius goodbye in the morning to go to work and that you would never return that evening.

Sirius gives you a meaningful look, as if reading your mind, before continuing. "Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might have been good in the beginning — I wouldn't know."

He gives you a look and you shrug.

"He was all about morals and honour, all about his principles...but he changed," you say. "Towards the peak of the war, he became less about morals and more about fighting violence with violence, I guess. When he got more power in the Ministry, he started to give us harsher orders. Authorised us to use Unforgivable Curses against suspects — encouraged us, even. Gave us the power to kill rather than capture. Some of the things he did...at times, he was no better than a Death Eater himself."

"He had his supporters, mind you — " Sirius adds, " — plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..."

He smiles grimly.

"Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

You remember reading that in the paper. Headlines upon headlines about Barty Crouch Jr and the jeopardy caused to his father's position.

"Crouch's son was caught?" Hermione gasps.

"Yep," affirms Sirius, returning to his seated spot on the ground beside you. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while...gotten to know his son."

He begins to wolf down a large piece of bread casually.

"Was his son a Death Eater?" Harry asks.

"No idea," Sirius answers with a shrug. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house elf."

Something in your gut tells you it wasn't 'in the wrong place at the wrong time'. Barty Crouch Jr was a few years below you at Hogwarts, and he had always creeped you out. Strange guy, something about him always rubbed you the wrong way.

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione queries.

Sirius gives a laugh that sounds more like a bark. "Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more of than an excuse to show how much he hated the boy...then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the Dementors?" Harry asks.

"That's right," Sirius says, a grim look settling on his face. "I saw the Dementors bring him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though...they all went quiet in the end...except when they shrieked in their sleep — "

"Sirius, please," you say shakily, shuddering. The thought of Sirius in that abhorrent place — it makes you feel sick. Makes you feel absolutely sick to your stomach, and the deadened look in your husband's eyes makes you feel even worse. "Please, t-that's enough."

He blinks, as if remembering where he is, and his eyes ghost over your face for a second. You see him become more grounded, his eyes brightening slightly again. He eyes find yours and he holds your gaze, a silent apology passing through it.

"So...he's still in Azkaban?" Harry says.

"No. No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He died?" Harry repeats in disbelief.

"He wasn't the only one," Sirius says bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the Dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch, being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The Dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Sirius picks up the flask of water you had brought for him and drains it instantly.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continues. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic...next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and — so I've heard since I escaped — a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So, Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

There's a long silence. You gnaw on the edges of your thumb nervously, feeling your stomach twist and churn. Voldemort ruined so many lives, caused so much pain and hurt in the world. And Azkaban — the very name makes you heart tick fearfully faster. Something in Sirius' eyes tells you any amount of time spent in that place is something you never forget.

"Moody says he's obsessed with catching dark wizards," Harry tells you.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," Sirius remarks, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back his old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up to search Snape's office!" Ron says triumphantly, looking at Hermione for praise.

"Yes, and that doesn't make any sense at all," says Sirius, deadpanning.

"Yeah, it does," Ron pushes excitedly.

Sirius shakes his head. "Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"Good thinking, Ron, but I don't think it's Crouch who's been sneaking into Snape's office," you say.

"Well, who do you think?" Harry asks.

"Professor Moody," you reply. "I don't think he trusts Snape."

"So, you think Snape's up to something then?"

"Well — "

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape — " Hermione buts in.

"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione," Ron snips impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever dark wizard couldn't fool him — "

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"Look, I think you've both got a point," Sirius says in an act of mediation. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," he adds, and Harry and Ron grin at each other.

You nod, grimacing. "He knew more curses and dark spells when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters. Real creepy bloke, if you ask me."

Sirius holds up his fingers and starts to list off names. "Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban."

You wince. "The sickest of the sick, those Lestranges."

Sirius nods. "Indeed. Avery — he wormed his way out of prison, from what I've heard — "

"Said he was acting under the Imperius Curse," you tell him. "Been free ever since."

"Of course," Sirius says bitterly, sighing. "As far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," says Ron.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" Harry agrees quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

At once, you and Sirius look at each other, same ideas whirling in your heads. You squint your eyes sceptically, shaking your head ever-so-slightly. Sirius runs a hand through his dirty hair, shrugging.

It's something the two of you have always been good at. Being able to communicate silently, whether right beside each other or on opposite ends of a room. You just know exactly what the other is thinking.

"If Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for help..." Sirius stares at the cave wall, and then voices a sigh of frustration. "There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Crouch and Moody so keen on getting into Snape's office then?" Ron says stubbornly.

"Moody is keen on getting into everybody's office," you say simply. "I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all. No matter how much time you've spent with him." Your mind flashes back to the hurt you felt that night he dismissed you, and you inhale deeply. "And as for Crouch...I have no idea. It just doesn't make any sense, does it? The illness, not showing up to the World Cup, not judging the tournament..."

A silence falls as you mull over these questions, fiddling with your ring absent-mindedly while you think.

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?" Sirius asks.

"I can try," Ron says doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves him."

"And try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," Sirius says, glancing down at a copy of The Daily Prophet. He looks at you. "Love, what about your cousin, the one that works at the Ministry? Could you ask her?"

"Who, Mandy?" You say, scoffing. "Mandy doesn't talk to me anymore, Sirius. She doesn't want to be associated with me whatsoever because she thinks I'd damage her reputation."

Sirius raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. He heaves an enormous sigh, clearly exhausted, and rubs his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?"

You glance down at your watch. "Half three."

"You guys better get back to school," he says to the kids, getting to his feet. He offers you his hand and you gratefully accept it, allowing him to pull you up off the ground.

"Now, listen..." He looks particularly hard at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school just to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd, but you're not to be leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a few grindylows," Harry jokes, but Sirius is having none of it and scowls at him.

"I don't care...I'll breathe freely when this tournament is over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me amongst yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

The three nod, say their goodbyes and squeeze through the gap in the rock, leaving you and Sirius in the cave alone.

"Same goes for you, too, you know," he says, turning to you.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→⁠→ read chapter twenty-three here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

think this might be the longest chapter yet omg 😅 anyways long awaited sirius appearance! there'll be more to come i promise 🩷 ty loves!

hugs and kisses to my incredible taglist loves:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem @jennifer0305 @idkman5335 @elanna-elrondiel

[bella-rose29]

Reminders of her - George Karim x gn!reader

requested by anon: George Karim x reader (established relationship) where one of the Visitors they have to seal is the reader’s dead mom or sister or father (whichever you want)

I am so so sorry that this has taken me forever to write, I have been swamped with assignments and work and then a period of no imagination whatsoever, so I'm very sorry about that anon! I also had no clue how to end it so sorry about that too

I tried to make this gn (since no gender was specified), but there may be a slip up or two so I'm sorry if there is <3

Hopefully this is roughly what you wanted anon!

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of character death (reader's mother) and dealing with grief, mentions of cancer (non-specific, but it's not aggressive).

Tag list: idk who wants to be tagged for George tbh (let me know if you do!) <3

(not my gif)

The inhabitants of 35 Portland Row were all relaxing in their various rooms when the doorbell sounded, startling everyone.

Lockwood hurried to the door, trying his best to not look too disgruntled in front of a possible client, but when he pulled the door open to see Y/n he gave up trying to rub the tea stain off the bottom of his shirt.

"Oh, hi. Everything alright?" They didn't say anything, head dipped so that Lockwood couldn't see their face, but when he heard the slight sniffles coming from Y/n he ushered them inside, immediately calling for George. Lockwood wasn't the best at dealing with people crying, and he'd had to learn for his job, but given Y/n was George's partner he figured he had a free pass this time. The boy in question came thundering down the stairs barely a minute later, pulling his jeans all the way up as he did so and fastening his belt before bringing Y/n into a crushing hug. Lucy appeared at the top of the stairs, peering at the scene in front of her, and when she saw her best friend crying she hurried into the kitchen to start making tea. Lockwood was left to stand awkwardly to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets while George comforted his partner.

"What's wrong, Y/n/n?" George asked, pulling back slightly to wipe away their tears. They sniffled a little bit, small sobs still breaking through as their chest heaved, trying to get the words out.

"It's- it's my mum," they broke off into tears again, hiding their face in George's t-shirt. "She- she's, uh... I need your help," they finished in a whisper, turning to look at Lockwood, and suddenly everything made sense.

"Where is she?" Lockwood asked softly, making eye contact with George. The two boys led Y/n into the kitchen, sitting them down at the table and providing a plate of biscuits (George was a compete hypocrite about the biscuit rule when it came to his partner). Lucy brought over a cup of tea, placing it down in front of Y/n with a small smile.

"Sort of just... everywhere. In the whole house. I don't know why she's only just turning up now, she's been dead for eight months."

"It doesn't always make sense," George said, pushing his glasses up. "We can come over tonight if you like, right Lockwood?"

The company head nodded, sympathetic smile on his face when Y/n looked his way, and Lucy murmured her agreement.

"That's decided then. We'll come over tonight and try and put her to rest completely, yeah?" Lockwood declared, and Y/n nodded, wiping the last of their tears away.

"Yeah, alright. Thank you."

~~~

That night, just before sunset, the four of them headed over to Y/n's house (the members of Lockwood and Co had refused to let them go back, insisting that they stayed until they were properly cheered up), kit bags slung over shoulders and rapiers at their hips. Y/n went without, having barely any Talent, clutching the silver rod that George had gifted them as a defence. Lucy and Lockwood strode ahead, George hanging back with Y/n as they dawdled.

"You alright?"

"I don't really know. I mean, she died of cancer, so that shouldn't really mean that she comes back as a Visitor, right? She died in her sleep, peacefully, and spent her last couple of months seemingly happy."

George was quiet for a while, debating what to say. He often had a habit of putting his foot in it, being the socially awkward person that he was, and dating Y/n had meant that he'd found himself thinking before he spoke much more. At first, he'd barely spoken to them when it was just the two of them, being too scared that he'd say something wrong and never see them again, but when they'd admitted that his blunt attitude was one of the things they most adored about him, he'd opened up more. Still, in situations like this a little thinking was required, especially since his partner's dead mother coming back as a ghost was the topic of conversation.

"Generally, Visitors seem to come back for unfinished business. Maybe she just wants to say good bye?"

"She had months for that though." Y/n was worrying their bottom lip in their teeth, a habit that had become more frequent since their mother's death.

"I really don't know, Y/n/n. Once we're there, though, I'm sure I will," he said, offering a small smile as they turned down their street. Y/n tried a smile of their own, but the worry was still there, growing with every step closer to their house the agents got.

"Come on you two, we're losing time!" Lockwood called, and George rolled his eyes.

"Ignore him. Those two can do without us for a bit if they need to. You alright? You're looking a bit pale."

"I- I'm fine, Georgie. I'm just... not really looking forward to this."

"I get it. Hey," he called, brushing his hand against Y/n's. "We'll sort it, yeah?" He linked their hands, and Y/n smiled properly, the action lighting up their face.

"Yeah. Thank you, George," they replied earnestly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

~~~

Y/n was worried.

It had been an hour since Lockwood, Lucy and George had set up, and while Y/n stayed in the kitchen, surrounded by the defences and armed with the silver that George had handed over earlier ("Just in case," he'd said, no hint of humour in his expression), the three agents had been eerily silent. They'd heard the creak of an occasional floorboard, and a whisper of voices from the living, but aside from that anybody observing the situation would think that Y/n was alone in the house.

They had zoned out a few minutes ago, getting bored of standing and waiting with nothing to do, when suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Mum?"

Their voice was shaking, damn it. Y/n had promised that they wouldn't get too scared, but the possibility of seeing their mother (and the further chance that their mother would try and attack them) was terrifying.

The figure crept closer, glowing faintly, and Y/n held their breath. It stopped just inside the doorway, and distantly Y/n heard themselves calling for George. Everything else was a haze. Time seemed to stop as the two of them observed each other, and while Y/n could feel a chill creeping up, the warmth they felt at seeing their mother's face again made it seem insubstantial. The trance was broken when Y/n was shoved to the floor, George landing on top as Lockwood and Lucy fought back against the now violent ghost of Y/n's mother.

"Are you alright? Y/n? Y/N?"

"Stop shouting! I'm fine," they huffed, unsure why George seemed so panicked.

"You were very nearly permanently ghost-locked, idiot!" Y/n's eyes widened.

"W-what? But I was fine! I didn't- I didn't think I was there for that long, was I?"

"Maybe, maybe not, but when we came in you were glazing over. I tried calling out to you but you weren't responding."

"Oh, so that's why you rugby tackled me to the floor." George leapt into action again at that, pushing up and offering a hand out to Y/n. Lockwood and Lucy had found the Source, and now the agency head stood with a small object wrapped in a silver net. "Is that... is that her?" Lockwood nodded.

"A comb, of all things. Luce says it was her favourite?"

"The one with the fake pearls in it?" Y/n asked, unable to tear their eyes off of the object.

"Yeah, looked like it. She um, she showed me something else," Lucy spoke, a little tentative. Y/n gestured for Lucy to continue, and the girl lead the two of them upstairs to their parents' bedroom. "There was a moment when she uh, she pointed to this drawer. There was a letter inside, addressed to you. I think she wrote it for you, and wanted you to have it. Did you know about it?"

Y/n shook their head. "No. I had no idea." Carefully they opened the drawer and lifted out the envelope inside, trying desperately to hold back the tears at seeing their mother's handwriting.

"Do you... do you wanna read it now? Because I can give you some space if you do," Lucy asked gently, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder.

"Please, thanks Lucy." The girl wrapped them in a hug, tight and crushing, and when she pulled away she wiped the tears off of Y/n's cheeks.

"We'll be in the kitchen if you need anything, alright?" Y/n nodded, sitting down on the bed when Lucy had shut the door behind her with a soft click and opening the letter.

~~~

A short while later a knock sounded on the door, and George's messy curls poked in, followed by the rest of his body. "Hey, how are you doing?" He came over and sat down next to them, placing an arm around their shoulders and bringing them in for a slightly awkward hug.

"I'm okay. I think," Y/n frowned.

"What... what did the letter say?"

"Just about how much she loves me, and how proud she is of me. It's funny, it doesn't feel like she's gone a lot of the time, but every now and then I'll see something that makes me think of her and I just... I have to stop myself from breaking down." They paused for a moment. "The paper smells like her. It's nice to have this, as a reminder of her."

George didn't say anything, instead just stroking their back, and they were glad for the comfort. He might have a tendency to say the wrong thing sometimes, or accidentally offend people, but George was a damn good partner, and Y/n was glad that he was there to help them.

The two of them headed downstairs a few minutes later, finding Lockwood and Lucy arguing about what the best kind of biscuit was over cups of freshly made tea. George joined the argument, gesturing wildly as he fought for his biscuit of choice, and Y/n could only chuckle slightly at their partner's antics. They gladly accepted the mug of tea that Lucy pushed their way, and smiled at the three agents gathered in their kitchen.

Their mother might be gone, leaving a hole in Y/n's heart, but these three people in front of them were just what was needed to fill it.

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Sam forcing you to go to bed

Okay. So you'd gotten a little obsessive. And, sure, that tunnel vision drive had robbed you of a real night sleep for three days straight, resulting in unplanned naps at an hour intervals at most, adding up to two whole hours. But was it really fair that your body demanded sleep when Sam and Dean habitually did the same thing? And that's how you got to day four, hallucinating every time you looked at something too bright or too dark. 

"Y/n…?" Sam called out softly after coming into the room to see you staring blankly at your hand. "You alright?"

"Huh?" You could barely pay attention to him, much less summon the mental stamina to craft a proper response.

Sam hesitated. "I asked if you were alright…"

"Uh huh."

Sam glanced back, wondering if he should call for Dean, then decided to approach you first instead. "What's going on?"

"This spot on my wrist."

"Spot?" Sam blinked in surprise when you clumsily shoved your hand in his face. He gently took it wrist. "I see it. What about it?"

"It's a spider."

Sam's brows knitted. "What?"

"All spots are spiders."

"Uh…"

"Spider. Spider. Spider." You repeated, poking the visible moles on his skin. "It goes away when you touch it. Then reappears!"

"Are you high or something?"

"Let me take off your shirt." You didn't wait for permission, sliding your hands up his hard abs. You would have enjoyed it more if your brain didn't feel encased in cotton, but as a solid to your future self, you made sure to indulge in the experience.

"Why the hell are you taking off my shirt?" Sam's voice cracked as he startled back, hands wavering in the air, unsure of what to do.

"You have the cutest mole right… here." You caressed the curve of his neck.

Sam's breath hitched and his throat worked as he struggled to reply. "You didn't need to take my shirt off to see it- Y/n!"

You opportunistically slipped under his shirt, kissing the spot. "God, I've always wanted to do that."

"Have you been drinking?" Sam jumped back when your hand dipped under his jeans. "Jesus, Y/n! What the hell?"

You blinked at him, mind blanking. 

"Y/n?" Sam stepped forward cautiously when you didn't respond. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Yesterday maybe?" You felt yourself swaying, but it didn't feel dangerous even when Sam jerked forward to keep you upright.

"For how long?"

"I don't know math." You scowled indignantly. "How dare you, Winchester? -Like twenty minutes or something."

Sam sighed. "How long has it been since the last time you really slept?"

"Um…" You closed your eyes to think and the swaying got worse. "Anyways. Take off your pants."

"What? No." Sam frowned. "Try to concentrate for a second."

"How can I supposed to do that?" You whined shamelessly. "Real Y/n wants to see the goods!"

Sam flushed and it took clearing his throat twice to find his voice. "Real Y/n?"

You nodded. "Awake Y/n. Not sleepy Y/n." You grabbed his waistband. "There's a pot going on amongst hunters about how hung you are. I'll keep it a secret if you do, but shouldn't I know since we're friends? You can't keep secrets from your friends."

"Okay. Bedtime for you." Sam threw you over his shoulder when your fingers started to graze downward.

"I'm not sleepy." You pouted. "My brain is too awake."

"I'll give you warm milk or something. Just get into the bed and stop touching me." Sam's voice was hard. 

You stopped sliding your hands over the lines of his back muscles sulkily. "You're so bossy. Isn't it your fault that you're so damn fine? Take some responsibility! Coming out of the shower with nothing, but a towel on…"

"I didn't know you were there!"

"That doesn't make me not want to lick every damn drop of water off of you." You suddenly became cheerful. "Stay hydrated everyone."

"Please stop talking." Sam swallowed hard.

"I'll show you yours, if you show me mine." You offered.

"That's not-" Sam broke off with a sigh, then pushed open your bedroom door and set you down. "Get some sleep." He sighed again when you stared at him in blank confusion. "Sleep, Y/n. Please?"

"I forgot how the bed works." 

"You forgot…" Sam covered his eyes with his hands, scrubbing his face hard. "Go lay down."

You walked backwards until your legs hit the bed, then toppled inelegantly on the mattress. Sam's face fell. Begrudgingly, he scooped you up and laid you further back on the blankets. He rolled you up tightly in an impromptu swaddle before you could do anything else.

"I'm a burrito. Eat me."

"Go to sleep, Y/n."

"But you and Dean stay up all the time." Your face crumpled with a wave of sorrow.

Sam softened. "You aren't us." 

"But you won't want me anymore."

Sam's lips thinned with an empathetic smile. "We can talk about this later."

"You've got a cute mole by your nose too."

Sam turned off the light, but didn't leave. A moment later, you felt him sit next to you. "I never had anyone try to help me fall asleep, so I'm not really sure how to help you, but… I saw this in a movie once. A mom putting down her kid…"

You relaxed instantly as his fingers brushed back your hair in long, gentle strokes. Sam smiled at your satisfied hums.

"Good night, Y/n." Sam said softly when your breathing slowed.

[shadowphoenixrider]

Wake Up Call

(Inspired from a particular Gambit line from the '92 TAS, what was going to be Shadow and Gambit goofing and flirting turned into something a little more. Hopefully it's enjoyable either way! ^^)

"Hey there, handsome~..." I purred sensually into Gambit's ear, wrapping my arms around his neck as he lounged on the couch.

"Hello chère." He rumbled enticingly, smiling as I nuzzled against him, turning to plant a kiss on my cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya, mon ombre, but Gambit needed in a coupla minutes fer de Danger Room."

"Just my luck." I grumbled, pulling back so he could look me in the eye. "What's the plan?"

"Jus' teamwork sims. Wanna figure out how best to work wit ya friends." A grin pulled at his lips. "Be interestin' to work with ya brother, see if he can use dose jumpscare powers to help out instead of scaring de daylights outta us."

"You boys play nice in there, alright?" I said, folding my arms and arching an eyebrow. "I don't want to have to work out wrenches or playing cards from places they shouldn't be entering."

"Gambit be on his best behaviour," he said, rising from his seat and flashing me a winning smile. I rolled my eyes.

"Mmhmm, sure. I'll believe it when I see it." Stepping closer, I looped a finger into one of the necklaces dangling from his neck. "Oh, and Cajun?"

"Oui, ma chère?" He arched a dark eyebrow at me.

I tugged his head down to me, grinning against his lips.

"Hurry back to me when your business is done, big boy. I'll be in my room waiting..." I cooed, delighting in the way his pupils swelled, his red irises vanishing into the black void.

"Gambit'll back as soon as he can, chère." He murmured back, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to my lips. "Try not to have too much fun without him."

---

Our luck was definitely lacking, as the training overran. Hopefully because they were deeply engaged, and not because Gambit and Ebak had infuriated one another to the point of coming to blows.

I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my bored mind chewing voraciously at me, begging for stimulation. I had resisted getting absorbed into a book, as well taking the edge off the need that hummed just under my skin, but that left few other things to keep myself occupied as I waited, aside from clock-watching. And I'd rather not bring that spectre back from my old work.

So I did the next best thing; I closed my eyes, and dozed.

I'm not sure if I actually fell asleep at some point, but I was definitely aware when I heard heavy footsteps in the corridor outside. The grumbling of incomprehensible Cajun that accompanied them confirmed that Gambit had finally been released. My heart skipped with excitement, yet for reasons I'm not exactly sure about, I decided to continue to pretend to be asleep. Probably had something to do with 'teasing' or 'shits and giggles', if I really thought about it.

Gambit gave his signature of two quick knocks before he opened the door, a floorboard creaking as he stepped inside.

"Ah..." He sighed, his voice low and soft, wrapping around me like a blanket. "Look like I keep you waitin' too long."

I tried to keep a neutral face, curious to find out what he'd do, resisting the temptation to tap into my powers to sharpen my senses in case it gave me away.

There was a short pause of nothing. No sound, no movement, only the feeling of Gambit's gaze on my body. I battled with myself to keep the illusion up. It felt like he was waiting for something. Did he...know?

Something imperceptible changed, and floorboard sighed as the Cajun's weight shifted.

"Or maybe," there was a grin in his voice, the timbre becoming sensual as he began to approach the bed, "you just wan' me to wake you up with a kisss?"

Something about the way he hissed the last word sent a shiver straight up my spine, and I prayed it hadn't showed. I felt his presence lean over me, breathing in his heady, hot, masculine scent. The bed dipped slightly as he placed a hand next to me, before his warm breath tickled my face, and then his soft lips met mine.

I kissed him back, and he made a grunt at the back of his throat, smiling against me.

"Thought so, petite brigand." He purred. I opened my eyes to see him settling onto the bed, straddling my hips yet keeping all his weight on his legs.

"How did you know I wasn't asleep?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbows.

"Don' have dat good of a poker face, chère." Gambit smirked. "Caught a li'l smile when I came in, an' the corner of ya mouth kept twitchin'. Figured things weren't all dey seemed. Dat..." His smirk widened into a shit-eating grin. "An' ya drool in ya sleep."

"Hey!" I cried, the Cajun hopping away with a laugh as I swiped at him.

"But in serious, chère," he moved back in, reaching out for my hands, "sorry fer makin' ya wait. Control room had to figure a solution to monitor ya brother without lockin' out his powers." His smile was small. "Took a while."

"Yeah, hadn't considered that might've been an issue." I mused, letting him take my hands and step closer. "And I guess I gotta apologise for faking sleep. I wanted to know how you'd react, but I shouldn't have pulled that on you."

"Don' think we ever talked 'bout it." Gambit said, rubbing my hands with his thumbs. "How'd you feel 'bout bein' woken up like dat? Wit a kiss or...more?"

I pursed my lips thoughtfully.

"Not really thought about that, in truth. I definitely don't mind you waking me with a kiss." I frowned, parsing through the possible scenarios in my head. "When you say 'more', we're talking about fooling around when one of us is asleep, right?"

"Mmhmm." Gambit nodded, moving to sit next to me. "Touchin', feelin' up, all de way up to makin' love." He raised a hand. "Now don' think 'cos we brought de subject up dat we need to do anythin'. Jus' think if it gonna come up, we better get de boundaries sorted now, d'accord?"

"Oh yeah, of course." I nodded. "It's not something Tom and I did - what's your feel about it?"

Something flickered across Gambit's face at the mention of my ex's name, but it was too fast and faint for me to read.

"Gambit don' want his opinions to influence yours," he said. "'Specially if it ain't a thing ya done before. Go on what ya feel, an' Gambit will follow dat." A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "Not to say we can always change it later, or try it a night, non?"

"True." Chewing my lip, I weighed the thoughts against my heart like Anubis. "I...I think I might enjoy it. The feeling me up especially. But...I dunno, I feel like it'd be super situational." I reached over to put my hand on his. "And the last thing I'd want to have happen is to wake up mad or upset at you."

Gambit nodded, smiling, his thumb reaching up to link with mine.

"Understand completely, chère," he rumbled. "Gambit wouldn't mind if ya woke him up dat way, but he don' wanna make ya uncomfortable 'bout it."

"I'll think about it." I smiled back, scooting closer to him, our knees touching. "So how about this - we'll wake each other up with kisses, but if we want to do anything more in the morning, we'll see what the other says when they're a little more awake. Yeah?"

"Parfait." He replied, the smile spreading across his lips twinkling in his red black eyes before he pressed a kiss to my cheek. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Gambit did notice something interestin', though."

"Oh...?" The Cajun was grinning like a cat that had lapped up all the cream. Uh oh.

"Oui." His voice had taken on a slow, melodious quality, and I got the distinct impression he was toying with me. "Gambit think," he leaned in close, breath stirring the hair over my ears, "his voice give you de shiverss..."

I couldn't control the shudder that raced up my spine, nor my heart's stutter. Or the spark of heat that flash between my thighs. Gambit's self-satisfied chuckle came from deep in his throat, pulling back to look me in the eyes. "Jus' what I thought..."

A blush was boiling in my face, but I straightened my back, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Really? It's taken you this long to notice, Cajun?" I arched an eyebrow at him, yet his grin barely wavered.

"'Course not. Noticed it de first night together." He replied, silky smooth. "Always figured it were jus' what Gambit were sayin' though." His grin widened, and I swore his eyes flashed. "Didn' realize ya like Gambit's voice too..."

Bugger. I felt my blush intensify as my traitorous body betrayed me, and the bastard's grin was almost Chesire-like. I turned my back on him, folding my arms and ignoring his laugh.

"Yeah well, if you're gonna tease me like this, maybe I'll gag you, see how you like it." I grumbled, scowling. I refused to drop my arms even as Gambit scooted closer, curling his long limbs around me.

"Ah chère, but you'd miss me, I think." The Cajun spoke softly into my ear, all traces of teasing gone, only warm affection left. "An' Gambit'd miss bein' able to tell ya how beautiful ya be. How gorgeous ya sound..."

He nuzzled gently into me, and despite myself, I felt myself thaw in his warm embrace. Regardless of how utterly infuriating the man could be, I could never stay mad at him. Not when he knew when to drop the act before it went too far.

I sighed softly, uncrossing my arms, one hand resting on his, the other reaching up to sink into his thick hair.

"Yeah. I would." I smiled as he leant into my caress, a soft breath escaping him. "Miss these little sighs you make when you start to relax. Or that little rumble you make at the back of your throat when you see something you like."

"I do that?" I just about managed to restrain my giggle as his eyes popped open in wide surprise.

"Sure do, Cajun!" I grinned, kissing him on the cheek. "But don't worry, I can keep a secret."

Gambit chuckled.

"No doubt 'bout dat, mon ombre." He murmured, the smile on his lips so warm I felt the heat of it kindle in my heart. "Now, Gambit do believe he owe his lady a li'l somethin', non?"

"Oh yes, so you do." I grinned at him, turning around to wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. "Been waiting for this for a little while."

"Den Gambit give ya a li'l extra as an apology for his lateness," he said, gently laying me down on the bed.

"I appreciate it, but so long as you're here, that's all that matters." I replied, and pulled him into a kiss.

[his-tamine]

life update :3 (a little vent-y)

sooo, been over 200 days since the house caught fire and we had to move. obviously, a lot of stuff's been happening. can't go into deep details for fear of someone I don't want to find this, finding this, but I'll say this much: FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've very rarely mentioned family on here (for obvious reasons - this account is NOT made for that lol) but here goes. tw for pretty heavy topics: mentions of abuse, father issues, health issues, transphobia & financial issues. I turned 18 Feb 21st, literally just almost 2 months before the damn house caught fire. Meanwhile, my brother's still a minor. MEANING, I narrowly escaped the custody battle my mom & dad are in. But unfortunately, he's still stuck in the middle of it. :( My pops was not really the nicest person to me when I was a kid -

whooping my ass whenever I did anything wrong, no matter how minor the offense was.

Telling me that he loved God more than he loved me, because "You're God's gift to me. God is the one who gave you to me in the first place," when I was four.

Telling me that if I didn't start being ok with receiving physical affection from family - which he knew made me uncomfortable - I was "going to grow up to be a S3R1AL K1LL3R" (yes he said that.)

Telling me that "God doesn't make mistakes," and that he "made me into a beautiful young woman for a reason" after I came out to him personally at 14 - big mistake 0/10 stars, would never do again. You get the idea. And those are the tame examples I could think of. So, I finally cut him off. As soon as my mom, brother, & I were in our new place, I blocked his number and haven't talked to him since. I was sick of him not respecting my boundaries, and repeatedly demonstrating that he thought of me as nothing more than a possession. Tired of him making me feel crazy all the time too. But now he's fucking with my mom & brother. Intentionally not paying child support till the last minute possible - & then making it in as small of payments at a time as he possibly can (yes he can afford it btw.) Trying to force my brother to go over to his place, even when my brother does NOT want to - which has begun giving my brother psychological issues & issues with school, mirroring the ones I used to struggle with bc of that bastard. My mom is juggling all sorts of things, & I really at least wanna try to help financially by getting a job, but I can't yet because: she says that I'm only 18, & shouldn't have to get a job to help out (I disagree.) I don't have an ID bc she wants me to wait on my legal name change - which costs a pretty decent chunk of change - reason is bc she "wants me to have as easy an early adulthood life as possible" (love her.) AND, I haven't actually graduated - No, I dipped in 11th bc school was hell (not exaggerating,) & instead just decided to pursue a GED, that I haven't been able to work towards bc of the shit show that is life in midwestern america. So I've been very depressed, exhausted, & hopeless. The least I can do is clean up our house while she's at work, & get this - some days I don't even have the physical energy to do THAT! I do not know what the hell is wrong with my body currently, but it absolutely sucks. & I'm really tired of just taking up space all the time. She's dealing with health issues too, & I'm always worried ab her. Idk what the hell to do, but something's gotta give. Everybody needs a fucking break. I keep trying to shoo away all the dark thoughts, push myself as often as possible, & keep my fingers crossed, but jfc... Sorry just needed to yell into the void for a sec. I'll live, I'm sure - I've survived worse. Sometimes things just suck. But I like to think that someday they won't. :,)

[atarathegreat]

Present mic fic?

Of course! Present Mic is one of my favorites so I absolutely don't mind doing one for him!

I've also got a whole story that I had written for Present Mic, if that's something anyone is interested in?

Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada

Ridiculous, getting stood up by some over-the-top hero! Who did I think I was? I'm not some hot actress that could just pull any man she wanted, let alone some decent-looking lady that could get an equally decent-looking man. Hell, I was a disheveled office worker that just so happened to be the closest hostage to the villain trying to get...well shit what was he trying to get? Crunched numbers on the debt my boss was in? Maybe the papers I had stuffed in the back file cabinet that proved my boss was cheating on his wife? Fuck, maybe he wanted the numbers on how many clients have now been fucked over by the company.

God, I should've left that hellhole earlier. I wouldn't have ended up in the position to get stood up by the same damn hero that asked me out. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, after all, why would a hero want to go out with some stupid civilian? Idiot, I should've thought it through before actually showing up that day.

"Hey, this seat taken?" A nonchalant voice asked from above my head, a blonde standing with donuts and coffee in hand, "I know this ain't a coffee shop, but I figured you could use a cappuccino. You look rough." I scoffed but accepted the drink, I was proud but not proud enough, "Rough is putting it lightly, actually. I look like shit and haven't brushed my hair in weeks." The man laughed, taking the seat across from me and sliding a donut to me. It was a lame pickup line on his part, but he did secure a seat at my table, and that was enough to be dubbed successful. "So, can I ask why a roughed-up businesswoman is sitting all alone in the middle of a restaurant? Hopefully not getting stood up by some lame ass?" He chuckled, "Your date popped in a few minutes before you did, dipped with another woman." I laughed, seemingly catching the guy off guard in my mania, "And you know what? I'm not even shocked! I was held hostage for a few minutes and tossed across the whole floor, why could I handle that and not handle being stood up?"

Without realizing it I had started to cry. My boss was a shitty human and I'd been working there for years and then a villain breaks in wanting heavens knows what, I guess it really is the lightest straws that break the camel's back.

"Oh! I didn't mean to upset you, miss. I was actually hoping to get you out of here, maybe go see a movie to make up for it? My name's Hizashi Yamada," The man was a fast talker, genuine in his words but stupid in tongue, "I guess this is the worst timing but I just thought you were really beautiful and didn't see the harm in shooting my shot." His candy-apple eyes were huge with worry, amplified only by the eccentric way he was leaning over the table to offer me a napkin. I thanked him, saying maybe another time would be more appropriate, and swapped numbers with him. I barely had time to leave the restaurant when he texted, a simple "I hope tomorrow is better for you." that would've made me cry if I wasn't already. Hizashi smiled as I waved to him through the window, a darker-haired male rolling his eyes at him.

With the whole rest of the day at my disposal, I decided it was wisest to find another place of work. By midday, I'd put in three applications to two different coffee shops and a lower-ranking hero's agency. It was exciting, like moving to another country and restarting from nothing. Or, basically nothing since I was paid dirt and didn't even have a proper mattress, and trust me when I say that sleeping on an air mattress did horrible things to the spine. But my feet skipped all the way home, in the elevator, and up to my apartment door. I hadn't been that happy since I had actually moved countries and started with nothing, I even pulled out the oldest bottle of wine I had. My neighbor had gifted it to me when I moved in, I barely understood Japanese at that point and only grasped at "Welcome, neighbors here sweet, sleep easy." And it was still entirely possible I heard him wrong because, well, I'm incompetent and extremely non-fluent. My parents and siblings would often send letters, but I rarely replied to them, mostly because I didn't have the money to be able to send them overseas. It upset them, rightfully so, but they understood that things were hard enough without them getting angry and berating me for having a shit job with a shit boss.

I pulled up my phone and texted the number Hizashi gave me, telling him that whenever he was available I would be more than happy to go somewhere with him and gave him a brief rundown of what my day held. He congratulated me, giving me an address and a date along with the dress code. I chose to wear some high-waisted jeans and a frumpy tank top, meeting him at what turned out to be a public park. A small wooden stage had been set up, a band setting up while other people hung decorations, Hizashi holding up a little girl so she could tie a cardboard cut out from the string lights. It was cute. "Hey, there you are!" He noticed me, walking over with the little girl still on his shoulder, "If you want, you can help us finish decorating. One of my classes is playing a huge gig tonight and I thought they were perfect for you to see." I nodded, picking up a nearby box of streamers, dropping it just as quickly. Not only had it just clicked that he was a teacher, but the streamers also had the UA logo on them. He was a teacher at a prestigious school, a hero school. He was a hero! "Eri, could you go help the others while I see what she and I can do over here?" Hizashi set the girl down and returned to me, picking up the box I dropped. "You're a hero?" I whispered, not sure what to think. On the one hand, he wasn't the one who ditched me, but on the other hand, most heroes were assholes. Did I want to risk getting embarrassed again? Now at an overly crowded park where tens more people can see me crying.

"Just stay for a little while, if I don't pay enough attention to you then you can leave and I'll lose your number." Hizashi sighed, picking up the box. It was his eyes, the way they conveyed each and every emotion of his as overtly as he was tall, that made me sigh and follow him to the stage. We each nailed the border up, a single nail every two feet to have the perfect rounding as the string fell, looping small fairy lights around it right after. The students that made up the band were rushing around to get everyone in the right outfits, they were adorable kids.

"Up we go!" Hizashi lifted me up to the tree branch, "This is where that All Might cutout is going." I wrapped the thicker string around the bark before tying it securely, though Hizashi didn't let me down from his shoulders. He walked around with me perched around his neck as though I wasn't even there, occasionally handing my things that belonged higher up. All the decorations were put up by the time the sun began to set, and by that point a whole crowd had gathered and the band was ready to play. And they were perfect in every aspect, from guitar to the girl singing. I grabbed Hizashi's hand and pulled him to the side so we had room to dance, "This song reminds me of one I heard when I first moved here." My date smiled, his teeth shining just as brightly as he was, "So it's a good date, then?" I nodded, resting my head easily on his arm, "Probably the best date I've ever been on. Sure as hell beats being ditched for some other guy to pick up."

[nani-nonny]

So okay, idk and i forgot how long it's been since i read the last chapter but god this is good! It's like that one funny sound effect "God it's so good! It's so good and tasty!" This chapter is like this!!

It's so good that my cheek hurts from smiling and i can't stop smiling and i blame you for it/lh/hj

Seeing how F!Leo knock on the door and try to mimic his move is bringing me to nostalgia of the past i remember doing something like this with my parents and i end up getting laughed at (because it is!!)

Baby Lou punching the door with her baby hand made me laugh and melt immediately xD when they entered and April was nervous? God i felt so bad for her and i wasn't the one who destroyed drax.

Then she explodes - rightfully - after Leo asked her and even call out how rude it is to cut people off which i find satisfied?! Because people cut me off and see it normal and am like "Excuse me, am not done talking" and she explains how despite how cruel it was and how fucked up it was, it was still draxum from the PAST!! You can't take your anger out on him!!!

And bro took it like a G, he took it like a champ!! Eve tho Leo feel 80% guilty - am about to end that 20% off - draxum deserves an apology.

About the trip thing? When April mentioned it i was like "Why didn't f!Leo remember it if it was planned out??" And it's turned out last minute planned!! Tho part of me see it fair i have multiple questions like: Why take CJ?! Shouldn't he see his baby sister and spend peaceful time with his dad? Are they gonna leave F!Leo half injured and dip?! Will they take draxum or throw him back in his apartment or just leave him in medbey?! God!! Justice for the alchemist!!

And then Donnie finally acknowledging Leo and baby Lou's existence is making me happy and laughing like bro really didn't hear the door open or them talking or even April snapping?! Bruh.

AND HE MADE A CRIB for baby lou!! I was like, didn't future draxum knew this would happen?! And since the crib happened, will the mini fridge happen too??👀👀 imagine a smoll fridge connected to her crib!!

AND TGEN THE STAR OF THE SHOW APPEAR!! RAPHAEL!!! MY BABY!! Who rightfully a tiny, bit traumatized. And when he held baby lou in his palm?! AWWWW I WAS FEELING GIDDINES IN MY STOMACH!! THE GOOD TYPE!! LORD I CAN IMAGINE HOW SMOLL SHE IS!! AND HOW BIG RAPH'S PALM IS! 😭✨✨✨✨

And then little Leo appear and demand future Leo's ass back in the bed!

Seeing how big Leo is just trying to shield baby lou as he goes to sleep.. And that realization she's his baby? God it's perfect.. So perfect

*twirls hair* I’m glad you like it, I wrote it thinking of you and hoping you’d enjoy the soft moments! :D

April is such a great character I love her so much :) I liked her portion so much

Oh! About the trip! It was in the last chapter, but Splinter explained that it’s for Leonardo to get to know the baby, especially since CJ already had some time with her while he was unconscious! And it was also explained that CJ would return to the lair after the third day on the trip! Yeah, I probably should have made a heads up to check the previous chapter for a little reminder of where we are hehe

We’ll find out about Draxum and the trip in the next chapter hehe

Donnie is just like me hehe hyper focused and unaware of his surroundings while working on something :) but isn’t it so thoughtful and so “Donnie” to be building something for the new family member? <3

Raphy almost like F!Raphael, so cautious with the baby but years of experience separates the two! While F!Raph is comfortable and confident in holding his niece, Raphy is so afraid hahaha!

Lil Leo is such a mood killer /j (he’s just very concerned about his patient hahaha!)

But the ending was my favorite part hehe baby and papa are so cute :))))

Thanks for reading and leaving your fun comment/review like always sniper! I wrote this one for you so I’m glad you like it! I made sure to make it super soft :) <3