#my ‘I am in your walls’ little gremlins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunnami · 10 months ago

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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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qtkoshi · 1 year ago

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Maybe gn!Reader and Hobie adopt a kitten and the other three (Pavitr, Gwen, and Miles) come to see the kitten? Maybe a orange kitten gn!Reader wanted to name Spunk or Spike while Hobie gave them a spike collar? Would be cute lol

i luv ur brain anon

"you got....a kitten?"

- ok ok idk if this is what u meant, but u can feel free to run this with the bubblegum reader + hobie bc i think it fits alright :-) - also get a little deep with describing relationship,, but it’s necessary for the plot ! (...) - also!!! tysm for the requests; i am very excited to get into them, but will prob wait till tmrw to release bc it is my birthday today <3 much love to you all

──★ ˙ ̟ to the stars ！

general headcannons

alright first of all: hobie with a kitten? i’m in tears.

i love the hc that hobie has a soft spot for cats and the fact that y’all got one together? bye.

NAPS WITH THE KITTEN JUST NESTLED BETWEEN BOTH OF YOU

this cat is gonna be SPOILED in attention i tell u rn

hobie isn’t as obvious ab it as u, but the amount of times u see him chilling with the cat just perched on his shoulder?? (why are u taking the baby swinging across the city hobie; wait a min now–)

how u got him

imagine this: ur walking past an alley and hear this small little meow; after further investigation you find this tuft of orange fur crying outside the dumpster and

now u gotta take it in what r u talking about!!

bringing him home immediately ; hobie's spidey senses prob picked up the cat's presence before you got in the door.

'baby what's that.' 'c'mon spiderman we got saving to do'

man can't even argue with you

hobie not naming the cat himself bc he doesn’t wanna enforce socio-constructed labels on an unsuspecting creature that can’t consent

u can tho.

and while you very much want to, you tell hobie you gotta think on it for a bit – it has to fit just right!! (tbh he rlly doesn’t mind the cat being nameless, but he’s kinda whipped and will kinda go with what u want if it helps give that pretty lil smile to him again)

spider-squad finding out ab him

the besties r wrapping up something with a fight and hobie’s all k gotta leave and check on the cat and the rest are like ?????

pav absolutely floored bc how dare did u not mention this sooner hobie

'so you lot wanna come see him?' (inter-dimensional travel ensues) – also never gonna complain ab coming to hobie’s house they all think his place is dope

i’m sure we all know orange cats are fucking crazy and that does not exclude the little gremlin jumping off the walls of your flat rn

hobie ofc is smirking bc his son the cat is a little agent of chaos and he couldn’t be more proud

you, on the other hand, are just a little tired trying to get the fucker to stay still for a second so u can put on the damn flea medicine

everybody loves him are u kidding (miles a little hesitant tho, he still has beef with the last spiderman-variant cat he met :/ )

“so whats its name?” miles was watching with wary eyes as the little ball of fur darted around. with a heavy (and definitely not dramatic) sigh, you walk over to the group “still haven’t picked. we just found him yesterday.”

luv the idea of hobie looking at u anytime ur in the room (stay with me now) — can’t help it u just grab all his attention, maybe stop being so lovely idk

speaking of your relationship: he has spent years battering against everything life throws at him that having your love in the palm of his hands? something to protect not in the way he does as a hero, but in the way to cherish as a person?? give the man a break, he deserves to admire you whenever he can.

anyways hobie’s looking at you before going ‘oh yea’, just grunts and pulls out this little collar with little spikes and their matching and oh my that is so cute

says he found it in some garbage, most def made the collar with some scraps like he did his own (gotta keep it cool yk)

you giddy and putting the collar on the little heathen and just all ‘omg wait a min’

promptly lifting the cat up and “THIS IS SPIKE.”

cue golf claps from the squad with some ooo’s and aah’s

more gen headcannons

remember when hobie and the cat were swinging around the city? yea he's taking that mf everywhere. puts him in his pocket like a little surprise

hobie loves to play fight with the cat

spike is the perfect mix; got hobie’s energy and your brightness it’s a win-win

i could write more but i'll stop here for now 🕸️

⊗

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk x reader #hobart brown x reader #hobie۫ ִ✮#this was so cute hehe #thank you anon #!!!!!

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tangylemonade · 2 months ago

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Friends w/ Benefits

Jeonghan x afab reader 18+ MINORS DNI (istg 🫵🏾 ಠ_ಠ if I catch you)

Literally just wrote this lol and it's not actually proofread (I looked over it once). Maybe 1k I need to go to bed but I wanted to write so here I am (btw thank you anon for the suggestion 😊) It's basically just smut with dialog and a bit of angst I guess

The buzz of your doorbell was unexpected but not surprising. You knew Jeonghan had gotten off of work around this time and on particularly stressful days he seemed to find himself at your door holding a bottle of wine waiting for you to open up.

“And he's back...” you said jokingly, as you opened the door and turned back into your kitchen.

“Treat me kindly, I bear gifts.” he retorted as he kicked off his shoes and shut the door.

“I was just about to eat dinner. You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Jeonghan followed you into the kitchen, opening the cabinet right away and taking out the wine glasses.

“Mhhhh…that smells good.” he dipped his finger into the sauce you were simmering and popped it into his mouth. “Needs a tad more salt.”

“Gross.” you said swatting him away but still adding a pinch of salt and stirring the dinner that was always far too much for only you.

You served you both and sat down at the table.

“Ohh, I see you've brought out your finest China madam.” Jeonghan said as he picked up the plastic spoon you placed next to his paper plate.

“Fuck off. Are you gonna wash the dishes?”

All he did was laugh his little gremlin laugh and take a bite.

“This is delicious. I'm glad I came at the last minute and saved your dinner from disaster.”

“I think you're dehydrated darling; this is a bit too salty.”

“It tastes perfect to me.” He said with a shrug. “This wine tastes like shit though.”

“There really is no better pairing.” you said with a laugh.

“Agreed.”

Once dinner was done you put the pots in your refrigerator and threw out the dishes.

“And clean.” you said flopping down on the couch and putting your feet on Jeonghan’s lap.

“I'm gonna go shower. Wanna join me?” Jeonghan asked as he stretched and got up.

You nodded and followed him into the bathroom ripping off your clothes and tossing them in your hamper. Jeonghan followed suit, except he purposely ignored the hamper step, and turned on the shower, hopping in right away.

“Seriously? The hamper is right there.”

You rolled your eyes and put his things in your hamper which now had just as many of his clothes as yours.

“Jeonghan, you're gonna have to start paying some of my water bill if you keep this up.”

You stepped into the shower to find him slowly stroking his erection as the hot water ran through his long hair.

“Good god you couldn't wait.”

“You were taking so long.”

“Picking up your clothes.”

“Whatever. Get over here.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him under the water. Your soft lips bounced into his as his hands ran along your ass and thighs. Running your hands through his hair you grabbed a handful and tugged, pulling a moan from his hungry lips. Dropping your hands down to his cock you stroked him adding a little squeeze just to feel the falter in his kisses along your neck.

“You’re really sensitive today.”

“Long day.” Jeonghan said before pushing you up against the shower wall.

His fingers found your clit and he returned that favor with a pinch that had you almost slip.

“Wait.” you said breathlessly as you stopped his hand. “Sit down, I wanna ride you.”

Jeonghan happily complied as he sat back in the tub of the shower and looked up at your body.

He could stare at you like that forever.

In the dim light of the bathroom your body looked heavenly as the water patted on your skin.

You lowered yourself onto him, your pussy lips laying on his throbbing cock and making it twitch in frustration. Looking down into his eyes you drove him crazy as you sinfully moved your hips and dragged your wet pussy up and down his shaft. Jeonghan’s hands traveled up and down your body as he squeezed at your breast, his thumb and index playing and squeezing your nipple.

“Fuck.” Jeonghan breathed out as your heat continued to glide against him. “Let me fill you baby.”

You lifted your hips as he reached down and guided himself into you, your walls naturally sucking him in with greed.

Jeonghan's hands that once again sought purchase on your breast were met with yours as you pinned them above his head and leaned in to capture his lips. Nipping and sucking you marveled at the quickness in which Jeonghan’s fair skin began to show signs of your obsession.

Greedily you rocked your hips, your moans syncing with his and bouncing loudly off the bathroom walls.

“So good....” you moaned.

Your eyes fluttered open and closed as you anchored yourself against Jeonghan’s chest and picked up your pace.

But Jeonghan's eyes watched you. He watched your body move with sensual fluidity as you pulled more pleasure out of him than anyone else ever could. He watched your flushed face through the steam of the shower as your eyebrows crinkled in pleasure. He swallowed every one of your kisses as you languidly laid them against his open mouth.

The shower water patterned off of your hot bodies as they rocked together chasing the high of the moment.

Jeonghan took in your every quirk and your every expression as the feeling of you and watching your pleasure drove him over the edge. You were already pulsing in hot waves around him and that was all he needed.

Jeonghan held you close as he thrusted into you a few more times before his own orgasm shot from him in fiery pleasure. He leaned back and looked up at you once again as you dazedly looked up at the ceiling and caught your breath.

The water and sweat trickled down your neck to your collarbone, along your soft mounds, and off your nipples onto Jeonghan’s body as he drank in your afterglow.

Too soon you rose from off of him chuckling at Jeonghan as he continued to lay down in the tub. Your and his juices were still dripping down your thigh and glistening on his cock.

Jeonghan still made no effort to move so you put on a little show for him in sensual jest-fullness as you sudsed up and washed off, his eyes unwaveringly watching you. Laughing you stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around your body.

“Seriously Jeonghan, I'm gonna send you my water bill this month. Don't stay in there too long.”

With that you were out of the bathroom shutting the door behind you. Jeonghan let out a breath before rising tiredly from the tub. He felt that way after every fuck. Beyond please and very exhausted in so many ways.

He finished showering before drying off and getting dressed

Jeonghan walked into your room, your his towel over his head as he shook it around to dry his hair.

“Move over.”

“Jeonghan… you know how I feel about cuddling.”

He threw his wet towel at you and rolled his eyes. “Who wants to cuddle with you?”

You tossed the towel back at him before rolling over and giving him some room.

You laid there in his shirt, so soft and warm as you drew your favorite cold and distancing line.

“Whatever dude, just stay on your side.”

He had a side in your bed that he'd lose the moment he crossed. Jeonghan shook his head at the absurdity before flopping down next to you and slipping under the covers, pulling more towards him.

Jeonghan smiled as he felt your foot on his back, kicking against him and pulling your covers back.

“Nice try buddy but you forget who's boss.”

“Well, it was worth a shot.” Jeonghan said before releasing the extra blanket that he didn't even need.

How could he forget who was boss when everything here followed your terms of engagement. But then again, Jeonghan agreed so who was he to complain?

“Listen Jeonghan.” you said after the first night something like this had happened. “You'll always be my best friend but we're adults so that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other in uh… more ways if we want.”

Jeonghan agreed without a second thought.

“Friends,” he said with a smile.

“With benefits?”

Jeonghan shook the hand you were holding out to him.

At the time it seemed like an excellent idea to him who only wanted to feel your body wrapped around him once more. Anything to have a part of you who was still too broken to give anything whole.

But now that his side of your bed was so cold he wasn't so sure anymore.

He laid watching your back as your shoulder peacefully rose and fell.

“Friends.” he whispers to himself before rolling over.

MY MASTERLIST

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000-pawz · 5 months ago

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I NEEEED MORE DAD BONEDO HEADCANONS THEY ARE SO SILLY

OKAY OKAY (more under the cut cause i got carried away HELP) also this is my new universe guys so if u see more dad bnd posts, THIS IS THE REFERENCE I LOVE DAD BND

sungho

⭐ sungho girl dad agenda! no arguments!!! i also think sungho would have the most kids for some reason??? maybe 3? elementary age twins and then a baby (i will hold on to this for as long as i live)

⭐ he always wears the baby harness everywhere he goes

⭐ brings all the snacks to every single game. he's the cooler dad with all the caprisuns and cheese sticks

⭐ wakes up super early to make breakfast for everyone and pack lunches

⭐ helps his kids with all their homework and art projects. if his daughter shows up in your doorway in the middle of the night saying they forgot they had a project due tomorrow, he will run to the store at 1 am to buy glue sticks and cardstock to make sure his baby has a project to show for tomorrow

⭐ can be a little overprotective, but he just wants his babies to be safe!!! always reminds his kids that he'll come running whenever they need him

riwoo

⭐ i think riwoo would be a toddler boy dad!!! literally like an even minier riwoo

⭐ when his son was a newborn, he spent most of his time doing skin to skin contact, just soaking up the new feelings of being a father

⭐ supports his kid through EVERYTHING like if he wants to dress up as a pretty princess, he'd buying two tutus on his way home

⭐ very gentle with his disciplining. if his son draws on the wall, he'll show him how to clean it up and then softly explain why it's bad!

⭐ has a hard time saying no and WILL give his kid cake for breakfast if he asks

⭐ loves loves loves cuddling while watching animated movies, sharing a big blanket and snacks with his baby <333

jaehyun

⭐ girl dad to two girls!!! they're a year or two apart

⭐ #1 family guy and the leader of the neighborhood dad group chat

⭐ spoils them so so so so much!!! you literally have to tell him to stop buying them new clothes every other day because you're running out of closet space ><

⭐ shows off his kids to EVERYONE and always adds "they look just like their mama <3" with the biggest smile on his face

⭐ organizes all the barbeques and picnics, invites all the kids in the neighborhood (yes, even sungho's gremlin twins)

⭐ cries every time his kids make him a gift and gives them the biggest hug ever

⭐ also cries on every single birthday because why are they growing up so fast!!!!

taesan

⭐ i see taesan as a girl dad tbh </3 he'd probably only have one daughter too

⭐ reads his kid the most outrageous bedtime stories like why are you reading "1984" by george orwell to a four-year-old

⭐ would let his daughter record a silly intro for one of his songs and show her how he makes music

⭐ takes soooo many pictures of his daughter, like half of his camera roll is his daughter and the other half is you

⭐ his daughter always has the best outfits!!! would love matching outfits too

⭐ i think his daughter would subtly adopt his opinionated nature and then he would be confused as to why she's so sassy and opinionated >< the apple doesn't fall far from the tree taesan

leehan

⭐ boy and girl dada!!! <333 i think the girl would be older too?

⭐ is super annoying during drop-off and probably yells out the window how much he loves them just to embarrass them a bit

⭐ lets his kids do the most random things to his hair... you'll come home and leehan will have a head full of bows, cars, and stickers (you have to help him get the knots out later that night)

⭐ the easiest dad to talk to ever. never gets upset at his kids for confiding in him and always gives them the best advice

⭐ falls asleep in one of the kid's beds every night because putting them to bed is the most exhausting task ever

⭐ teaches his kids how to care for fish and lets them redecorate the take every now and then

⭐ takes his kids on random trips to aquariums, parks, museums (and no, he never asks for permission from you so you always find out in the most random ways, like your son showing you his new shark plushie from the gift shop)

#pawz is online...💻🐾#save me dad bonedo!!!#boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor #boynextdoor headcanons #pawz headcanons ˚❀

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scoops-aboy86 · 4 months ago

Text

See You Everywhere (Secret Admirer pt 3)

Steddie Week 2024, July 3: Long / mutual pining / Holding Me by Warlock

It's still July 3 in my time zone, haha I made it! *lame fist pump*

wc: 3293 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

Darling Steve,

You amaze me on so many counts, not least by thinking I would stop writing to you after that, holy shit, not stupid at all. I see the vision, baby, and I think it’s precious that you’d rather picture me in disguise than imagine me wrong. But, sweetheart, you have to know that there are no wrong answers in these letters. This is much more firmly within my comfort zone than yours, I know, so I will never judge you for anything you write to me.

(Although I am honor-bound to gently, lovingly point out that it’s Bilbo, not Bibo. And I hope your band of gremlins does not end up guiding you to lead a life of crime. Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it might seem without the swords and the magic and the fantastic creatures.)

But I digress. I would happily slink into your bedroom at night, dressed all in black. (I wear a lot of dark colors anyway, so it’s not that much of a stretch.) I’d scale the outside wall up to your bedroom window and silently slip inside. Step softly so as not to disturb you as I approach the bed, where you slumber peacefully in… I want to say, with hope in my heart, nothing but those Hawkins High gym shorts? Nights have been hot lately, that and leaving the window open should help you keep cool. My own costume would be a little warm in this weather but it is, if I am to preserve my secret identity, a necessary sacrifice; one I would willingly make for the privilege of touching you.

Do me a favor, sweetheart, and touch yourself while you read this. Through fabric, if you want to make it authentic, if you imagine me wearing gloves. (So smart for that, baby, because honestly you’d figure out a lot about me just from seeing my hands.) Lay back like a good boy, Steve, and let me make you feel good and pull those shorts down. It’s dark, I could pull up my mask a little bit to use my mouth. Suck you until you’re hard, use my hand for whatever I can’t fit in my mouth because I can tell you’re very gifted in that area. It’s a shame I’d have my hair covered because I like having it pulled, but I could still moan around you while thinking about it.

And baby? I’d swallow.

I’ll leave it there because… to be perfectly honest, I got a little distracted and made a mess of myself. You have no idea what you do to me, Steve, I feel like I’m on top of the world and all I’ve done is take the fantasy you provided and run with it.

Which is embarrassing, because I started writing these letters because I wanted to give you something. You’ve seemed so melancholy ever since last fall and I wanted to let you know that someone sees you and cares. And here I am, selfishly imagining you when I can’t let you do the same, because if you knew who I am I don’t think you’d want me. I’m pretty far outside of your type, judging by anyone I’ve ever seen you with or noticed you show interest in. I listen to music you would probably hate. I don’t like sports, be it playing or spectating. Our high school experiences are on such opposite ends of the spectrum that we practically went to different schools. Your house is a castle and mine a hovel. We have nothing in common but I am filled to bursting with devotion to you that I can’t even.

Do you really want me to continue writing, Steve? I know you’ve asked me to be before, but we’re in new territory here. I know I started it, but I really do feel like it was maybe uncool of me and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

I’ll follow your example and end on a different note. How is it going with your coworker? I don’t have a steady nine to five myself—or the part time version, I guess—but I imagine working with someone who likes to butt heads with you is pretty grating. If it’s an issue, I hope it resolves soon. Wishing you as little stress in your life as possible, I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. Before you ask, I do recall saying in my last letter that I don’t mind weird. To clarify: I will accept just about any weirdness from you, sweetheart, but it’s different when I do it. Forgive me my dramatics, but at the end of the day, everyone is their own harshest critic.

Eddie is suffering. He’s haunted, too distracted to plan his next campaign or practice guitar—which, incidentally, are the things that usually distract him too much from things like school work or finding a respectable job. All he can think about is Steve, and by inevitable extension Steve’s ninja scenario.

He’d laughed at first, okay? (Before, you know. Getting really, really into it.) Not in a derogatory way, but because it was actually a creative solution to something that a lot of dudes might not even consider a problem.

Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are?

Because, just, Jesus H. Christ. Eddie has fooled around with guys in places out in Indy, and being liked for who he is doesn’t really factor in. So this is… new. He feels almost seen, something that should be impossible while he’s still shrouded in anonymity, and yet Steve seems to be holding space for that veil to be lifted someday.

‘Someday’ suggests a mutual future of some sort, which is sparking a dangerous ember of hope in Eddie’s foolish heart. And in the meantime there’s always the mental image of getting to secretly blow the prettiest boy in Hawkins—

Fuck, he needs to get out of this tin oven of a trailer. He’d put his latest letter in the mail two days ago, then come straight home to jerk off some more and smoke his way into absolute paranoia that this time he’d really blown it. Gone full throttle on that fantasy, then told Steve not to want him, then said something dumb about that girl he works with, and then still mailed it?!

He needs fresh air.

(He goes and checks his PO box.)

Any air.

(No reply yet, but the Hawkins Post Office isn’t known for its speed or efficiency.)

Air conditioning.

It doesn’t surprise him, really, when he ends up pulling his van into the parking lot surrounding Starcourt Mall. Because Steve Harrington is haunting him and will keep doing so matter where he goes, so why not here? Eddie doesn’t even bother to fight the way his feet carry him towards Scoops. Wouldn’t be the first time, after all—Steve’s ass looks great in both green and blue—but he tries not to do it too often.

All he wants is a crumb, a tiny direct interaction with the guy, even if Steve continues to remain none the wiser.

Steve is suffering. Which really grates, because he woke up in a great mood! He’s already working on a reply to the latest letter—once again all stocked up on paper, so he can rewrite it nicer if he makes a mess of it this time. Every time he thinks about it his chest (and, okay, sometimes his dick too, he’s still a teenaged boy) fills up with giddy warmth knowing that his Secret Admirer liked his dumb ninja idea. Specifically said it wasn’t stupid and that they had to stop writing to masturbate about it.

(Girls do that, right? Maybe not as often as dudes, but he really has had phone sex with enough of them to know they’re not necessarily opposed. That wasn’t a clue, Secret Admirer still could be either.)

So today should be going great, but instead he’s felt a headache coming ever since he hopped in his car to drive to work. Too late to take anything for it, though Advil or Tylenol sometimes barely dent in these things. He puts his sunglasses on for the drive and into the mall in the hope that will buy him some time before the worst of it hits.

If only he could stay home, laying in his room as dark as he can make it with a cold washcloth over his eyes and a can of Coke with a crazy straw at the ready. Even better if he could somehow just call and get Secret Admirer to come over to keep him silent company, refreshing the washcloth for him when it gets warm…

“Shades aren’t part of the uniform, cool guy,” Robin says flatly when he walks into Scoops through the back. “I don’t care how hungover you are, company rules.”

“I’m not hungover on a damn Tuesday,” he grumbles back. But maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe the headache will hold off at least until his break, then if he clocks out early at least he still got half a shift’s pay. Maybe if it holds off a little longer after that he’ll be able to get all the way home without being a danger behind the wheel.

He leaves the sunglasses folded on the break room table and starts helping her haul fresh tubs of ice cream from the walk-in to the display case out front.

It’s going to be a long shift.

By the time Eddie gets to Scoops, there’s a line so long it’s practically out the door. Frowning, he checks his watch for the time, something he hadn’t bothered to do in the van, and realizes it’s probably the tail end of the lunch rush. Super.

Steve and the girl he works with are both behind the counter, taking turns scooping and ringing up each individual customer or group and then cycling back around to help the next in line. As he waits, Eddie watches from behind the cover of his long hair and realizes that Steve seems off today. He keeps squinting under the fluorescent lights, distracted, sometimes asking people to repeat themselves to both their and his coworker’s obvious annoyance. But it’s not until some kid shrieks that she asked for double fudge chunk and he’s scooping regular chocolate that Steve winces and brings his shoulders up like he’s trying to cover his ears, and oh. Oh, Eddie thinks he knows what this is.

Sometimes I get these headaches that really mess me up. It doesn’t just hurt, it’s like all the lights get way too bright and sometimes my eyes go blurry for a while. Great parting gift from the concussion. Ice cream helps sometimes though, which is convenient if I’m at work.

The tiniest amount of research at the library (or, in fact, two afternoons in a row) had told Eddie that this could be anything from migraines to a brain tumor, but given the concussion the former is more likely. If Steve is having one of those, this is probably the worst place for him to be: loud, bright, and enough people crowded into the ice cream parlor that even with mall air conditioning it feels lukewarm in here, when what he needs is quiet, dark, and a cold compress. And this is not the kind of place where he can just throw up and take a nap—not without the risk of getting in trouble, maybe fired.

Eddie knows that Steve is going to keep trying to power through it, because he knows all about how the guy is saving up to move out of his parents’ house. (Castle… Oh god, he’d called it a castle in his last letter, why had he done that? He knows that Steve wants out of there, wants somewhere cozy and lived-in as opposed to his mother’s taste in cool and impersonal decor.)

There’s nothing he can do but wait as the line inches forward. As a slight tremor starts to show in Steve’s hands, which Eddie is watching like a hawk. By the time Eddie, still last in line, is within touching distance of the display case it’s a full on shake, and Steve fumbles his ice cream scoop trying to spin it into the side loop on his apron.

The clatter is loud against the background elevator music version of a The Beach Boys song. Steve’s coworker—Robin, according to her name tag—looks up sharply at the sound, but an uncertain kind of concern seeps into her frown when she gets a good look at him. “Steve? You alive over there?”

Steve, who has gone very pale, gives a slight shake of his head that seems to make his whole body sway. “Need a clean scoop. I’ll just… run to the back,” he manages, then stumbles towards the swinging doors marked Employees Only. There’s a choked noise as soon as he’s out of sight, and Robin seems to come to the same conclusion as Eddie: he won’t be back for a while.

To her credit, she puts on a passably bright fake smile at the lady Steve had been helping, taking her mostly finished cup from the counter where Steve had left it and adding the requested chocolate syrup on top.

Finally, it’s Eddie’s turn. But now he’s the one who’s distracted, trying to squint through the frosted glass of the window to the back room for any sign of Steve moving around.

“What can I get you, Munson?” Robin asks loudly, a little annoyed as though it’s not the first time she’s asked. Oops.

He also feels a little bad that he didn’t recognize her when she obviously knows him, likely from his lunchtime cafeteria soapbox spectacles, but ever since the first time he’d failed senior year he’d tuned out on all the rising underclassmen besides Steve pretty hard.

Eddie orders while glancing towards the window again and fiddling with the chain attached to his belt loop. “Actually, make that two cones. One for me and one to cheer up your fellow at sea.”

Robin wrinkles her nose. “You, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, want to buy Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington an ice cream cone?”

He shrugs, something inside him shriveling because, yeah, that would seem weird from an outsider’s perspective, the way he usually rails against the jocks. Maybe he’s a little bit of a hypocrite in his affections, but whatever Steve was in high school he’s actually a massive sweetheart now. “Yeah, well. You know Hargrove gave him a concussion last year? King Steve may have been a douchebag to us commoners, but at least he’s not as bad as that piece of shit.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, but finishes scooping into the first cone and reaches for a second. “Are you sure there wasn’t some house party he was at last night? Everyone knows he got that title from being Keg King.”

It feels stupid to go to high school parties when I’m not in high school anymore. They’re too loud and just a couple of beers hit me like a brick because of my stupid messed up head. Partying used to be a good outlet but I can’t do it anymore.

“Nah,” Eddie dismisses immediately, mind scrambling for a reason he can give for being so certain. “Nothing last night, or I would’ve been there. You know, for business purposes.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “By the way, if you ever need a little relief from the grind of dealing with shitty customers…”

It feels sleezy, and isn’t something he usually does, but it helps sell it.

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” Robin says quickly, and moves to the register. “That’s three dollars and fifty cents.”

“Don’t forget the sprinkles,” he reminds her while digging the money out of his pocket. With that handed over and sprinkles dumped on, he takes his one cone and gestures grandly to the other. “And maybe don’t mention to his Highness that that was from me. It’d be a shame if he had the same reaction as you and simply tossed away good ice cream.”

That would crush him, actually. So even though he wants so, so badly to stay, he forces himself to leave before he tries to eavesdrop, just to be safe.

“Steve?”

Startled, Steve jolts upright from where he’d been slumped in one of the break room chairs, wet paper towel sliding off his face and landing in his lap. The motion makes his head throb harder, and it’s all he can do to swallow down a groan. “Huh?” he grunts, eyes only open enough to make out Robin’s general shape.

“Why’d you turn the lights off back here?” she asks, quieter this time. He can’t make out her tone at all through the sharp pain threatening to burst out of his skull, but he’s grateful for the lower volume. And that she doesn’t turn the lights back on.

“‘S not a hangover,” he mumbles. Which, maybe he missed a step in that explanation. It was there in his head somewhere, surely she’ll make the connection? Or maybe just think he’s got some sort of stomach flu, since he totally threw up in the break room trash can. Hopefully in it. He’s… pretty sure he didn’t miss.

“I’m getting that.” Very gently, Robin takes his hand and wraps it around an ice cream cone. “Here. Generous donation from a concerned citizen who shall remain nameless.”

Steve blinks down at the strawberry ice cream in a cone with rainbow sprinkles.

Either this is the biggest coincidence in the world, or Secret Admirer was here.

Suddenly his eyes are silently streaming, because he could use that comforting presence right about now. It shines through on every page—this overwhelming care that he’s never felt from anyone else, not even Nancy. Whoever it is must have remembered the one time he’d mentioned in one of his reply letters that ice cream helps his headaches sometimes.

Steve cries because he wishes they would’ve just brought it themselves and done away with the mystery because he so, so longs to feel like someone’s in his corner now. Someone to give him a hug and rub just above his temples, which sometimes helps too. He takes a lick of the ice cream and chews on sprinkles and the tears come a little faster because he wants.

“Oh shit,” Robin whispers, dropping into the seat across from him. “Are you crying? Steve—Steve, it’s okay, if you’re not feeling up to it I’m not gonna make you go back out there again. Especially not if you’re likely to ralph on the customers but, like, mostly because I’d feel like an asshole. I mean, I heard the rumors about you getting a concussion and that’s why you quit the basketball team and swim teams, but…” She hesitates, holding her hands up like he’s a bomb that she’s worried might explode in her face. “Just, it’s okay. You stay back here and I’ll finish the rest of the shift, you don’t even have to clock out. I’ll handle it.”

For a moment, with hurt in his head and an ache in his heart and strawberry flavor on his tongue, Steve thinks it could be her. Maybe Robin is his Secret Admirer and it was her own idea to scoop this cone for him. But then she leaves, and that doesn’t feel right either.

Steve is haunted by a faceless, nameless person that he’s probably crossed paths with without knowing god knows how many times. Or rather, by their absence.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever

#steddieweek2024 #scoops words #secret admirer steddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington

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autisticlancemcclain · 10 months ago

Text

“Keith, I need a favour.”

Keith stops in his tracks. Slowly, he sets down the helmets he’s holding, freeing his hands, then holds the phone out in front of him. He ponders it carefully.

“I could throw you into the sea,” he says to it. He does some quick calculations. If he drives to the nearest seafront now, he will be approximately twenty-three hours late to his date with Lance by the time he gets back. However, if he skips the fanfare and drops his phone into the disgusting oil-filled puddle right next to him, he can proceed to his date on schedule.

“Decisions, decisions,” he muses. Fanfare is important. Dropping his phone into a puddle is whatever. It’s derivative. But dropping his phone into the North Atlantic…now that is revolutionary.

“Fucksake. Keith,” sighs the voice coming from the phone. “If you don’t answer me, I am going to change the Netflix password.”

Keith frowns. “Hey.”

“Thank you,” says Shiro emphatically, “you brat.”

“Netflix is sacred,” Keith protests. “You can’t joke about the Netflix. I am a delicate orphan, Shiro. What will happen to me if my primary care figure breaks his promises? I’ll regress and act out and end up in prison. Do you want me to end up in prison?”

“A little, honestly.”

“Gasp, Shiro. Gasp. How dare.”

“I think you should consider a degree in the dramatic arts.”

“I think you should eat my farts.” Keith snickers. “Hey, that rhymed.”

Shiro sighs, long and loud, and Keith can practically see the smile twitching on his face. “Where did I go wrong. Truly. To think I tried to raise an upstanding young man, respectful to his elders, happy to help when needed. Shame that you’re a gremlin and a changeling.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Blah blah. Get to begging for my help. I have places to be, old man. A new jacket Adam bought me to wear in front of pretty people. Well, one pretty person. Anyways.”

“God, you’re whipped,” Shiro says, and Keith ignores that because if he doesn’t he’ll combust. “You and Lance going out?”

Keith tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder, picking the helmets back up and continuing his walk to his bike. “Yep.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Dinner at Caribella. It’s an excuse for a ride, really. Maybe walk around downtown for a bit.”

“Sounds fun. How much more fun would it be with your little sister, huh?”

Keith stops for the second time. He can see Red maybe fifty metres away. He looks at her mournfully.

“So close,” he despairs quietly, then turns back to his phone. “Not super fun, Shiro. Since she’s, you know. A year old. And a date is something you traditionally do with your boyfriend. Alone.”

Shiro makes a weirdly strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a stressed croak. “Well! The thing is.”

Keith waits. No thing is listed.

“Shiro.”

“It’s no big deal! Really.”

“Oh? I guess I’ll just hang up, then —”

“It’s just that Adam and I are at his sister’s, right, and —”

“There we go.”

“And we have a sitter. Obviously. All is well. Except, you know. The storm forecast. And everything.”

“And you’re four hours away with a car that you haven’t put snow tires on yet,” Keith surmises. He looks forlornly at his bike, sitting all pretty in her parking spot, freshly polished red paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. So, so close. “You dumbass.”

“The forecast was clear this morning!”

“You’re a dad! You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Well!”

“Can’t the sitter just — stay? Overnight, or something?”

He feels bad. Any other day, he’d be happy to have Hana over, or go stay over there. He does it all the time. Hana is the coolest. He has no idea how she’s the daughter of the two biggest goobers he knows. Hell, he’s already got plans to watch her this Thursday, so Adam and Shiro can go to their old person museum date thing.

But he has plans tonight.

Fuck.

“She’s sixteen, Keith,” Shiro explains, sighing. Keith envisions his brother slumped against a wall somewhere, rubbing over the scar on his nose. “She’s too young for that. She’s Adam’s friend’s daughter, and she’s a sweetheart, but she’s got school. She can’t be responsible for a baby overnight.”

“No, I — I figured.” He drags his free hand down his face. “You need me to go over there?”

“Yeah. Mara – the sitter – can’t drive yet. Her parents are coming to get her in an hour.”

Shiro’s voice is quiet, subdued. He sounds guilty. Keith hates when Shiro is guilty. He covers his hand over the phone so Shiro can’t hear, screams a little, breathes deeply, then forces a smile wide enough that it will bleed into his voice. Hopefully.

“It’s fine, Shiro. Seriously. Lance and I’ll reschedule, Hana and I will make sure to fuck up your Netflix profile. All is well.”

“Thank you, Keith. I owe you.”

It is a dire thing when Shiro doesn’t complain about Keith messing up his Netflix profile. Once, three years ago, Keith forgot to switch the TV in their living room and watched some Hallmark movie as he sketched, just to make noise in the background. Shiro made snide comments about his taste for three months, because he’s a pretentious indie loser who watches shit like Empire unironically.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll start a tab.”

That, thankfully, makes Shiro snort. “Brat.” He brightens. Keith can almost hear the ding of a lightbulb going off in his head. “Hey, I know it’s dorky, but maybe you and Lance can still go on your date! Me and Adam used to when you were little, in the old apartment.”

Keith furrows his brows. “What, like when you marathoned Lord of the Rings on the shitty futon and ordered the greasiest pizza known to man? That’s not a date.”

“Is so! We enjoyed it, you had pizza so you weren’t having a tantrum, what else could we need?”

“You guys have been weird old people your whole entire life. Did you know that?”

“Only because you aged me. You pain. Anyways. Go pick up my daughter, or you can stay at our place. Minivan keys are where they always are. I gotta go. Love you, kiddo.”

“Ugh. Love you too.” He hangs up, blowing a raspberry at the phone. “Minivan keys are where they always are, he says. What a soccer mom.”

He stares, hands on his hips, at his bike.

What to do, what to do.

He really doesn’t want to cancel on Lance. It’s been a couple days since they’ve seen each other, because Lance’s job hates him. Plus, Hana isn’t very fussy. It’s kind of dweeby and embarrassing, but. Well. Lance likes kids. So it could be fine, honestly.

“Hana first,” Keith decides, nodding to himself. He lifts the seat compartment under the bike and shoves the extra blue helmet in, strapping on his own and starting Red up. To bring Lance to Shiro’s for an embarrassing old person date, or to cancel. That is the question.

Eh. He’ll decide on the ride.

— — —

He does not decide on the ride.

“What do you think,” he asks his sister, lips pursed. She gurgles happily at him from her high chair, shaking her soggy-Cheerio-covered fist at him. “I mean, you go to bed in a couple hours. So it’s not like it’s pure babysitting.”

“Abdalalala,” she says, which Keith translates to mean actually, now that I know you want me to sleep, I will spend tonight completely resistant to sleep, as karma. Enjoy.

“That’s rude,” he informs her.

You’re batshit, says the Pidge that lives in his brain. Also, quit procrastinating.

“Ugh,” he says, out loud. He pulls out his phone and hesitates over Lance’s contact.

to: lance <3

hey you like kids right

from: lance <3

oh my god

from: lance <3

keith, are you…

from: lance <3

pregnant??????

Keith laughs.

to: lance <3

you are not funny

from: lance <3

i’m hilarious actually it’s a tragedy

from: lance <3

i carry the burden of knowing i am solely responsible for my friends’ good humour

from: lance <3

heavy is the head that wears the crown. pensive face emoji solidarity fist emoji broken heart emoji

Keith refuses to dignify that with an answer. Also, he has been informed by Lance’s best friend that if he ignores the emoji bit it will go away eventually. So far it’s been going strong for three months, though, so Keith’s not certain. He can only hope Hunk is correct.

from: lance <3

anyways yah i like kids why

to: lance <3

how much cooler and charming would i be if i picked you up in a minivan. with my sister

from: lance <3

aw, keith!

from: lance <3

to be coolER and MORE charming you have to be cool and charming to begin with :)

from: lance <3

and you are a dweeb 💖

from: lance <3

sounds good tho

from: lance <3

Bring Forth The Child

from: lance <3

oh also bring forth burritos on ur way over

from: lance <3

i’m hungry

Hana yells and bangs on her tray. When Keith looks up, she lobs a Cheerio at him. It hits him squarely between the eyes.

“You’re right,” he says sagely, peeling it off and flicking it back at her. She shrieks in joy. “I cannot let this shit slide. I cannot simply allow myself to be roasted, Hana. I must have self respect.”

She blows a raspberry at him and bangs harder on her tray. Baby conversations are, honestly, riveting.

“Exactly, squirt. You get it. Let’s get cleaned up and go, hm?”

— — —

He picks up burritos on the drive.

Hana laughs at him.

— — —

He’s hardly pulled up in front of Lance’s apartment building when a blur streaks across the front walkway, yanking open the van’s side door.

“Oh, hell-o, precious darling!” gasps Keith’s boyfriend, tumbling into the backseat and slamming my the door shut behind him. “Hi, Hana! Hi hi hi! Aren’t you the bestest ever? You are!”

Hana, evidently pleased with the attention, babbles something incomprehensible and pats Lance’s cheek. He melts, babbling something so quickly it’s equally incomprehensible and shaking her hand. Keith watches, torn between endeared and affronted.

“Hello, boyfriend I have not seen in days,” he deadpans. “Yes, I missed you also. No, I don’t mind at all that you leave me to wither away, alone, in the front seat. Excellent chat.”

“You have a very very grumpy brother, don’t you, Hana,” Lance coos. His shoulders shake with held back laughter.

“Lance, get your ass in the front.”

“But I’m meeting the baby!”

“She is not going anywhere! Meet her at home! You turd!”

“Name-calling is not very nice,” retorts Lance primly, crawling over the console and finally settling in the passenger seat. “What kind of example are you setting, huh?”

He leans over the armrest once he’s buckled in and kisses Keith gently, cradling his hand against his jaw and tilting their heads together. He smells, as he always does, of flowers and sunshine, and Keith sighs as he sinks into the softness of him, the curve of his smile and nip of his teeth.

“Hi,” Keith murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his chin, and then squarely on the mouth again.

“Hi,” Lance responds, a little breathless, grinning widely. His hair is damp and curling at the edges. He’s left out his contacts for the night and the gold lenses match the gold flecks in his brown eyes. Everything he’s wearing is stolen right from Keith’s closet, except his socks, which are bright purple and covered in obnoxiously orange weiner dogs. Keith is so in love with him that the intensity of it embarrasses him, and he pulls away, face red, very interested suddenly in adjusting is rearview mirror.

Lance, knowing, only smiles.

“These are for you,” he says gruffly, shoving the paper takeout bag at Lance’s chest. Lance wastes no time digging through and shoving half of one in his face.

“Aw, baby,” he says, mouth completely full. “You’re literally the best. Sweet, attentive, manipulable, obsessed with me. Everything I intended when I did the love spell on you.”

Keith eyes Lance from his peripherals. He’s digging through his patched backpack, face completely serene. Keith is reminded of the actual sigil he has tattooed on his ankle. (He’s very familiar with it. It’s often right at eye level. Hard to miss, really.)

“…You’re a strange, strange man.”

“Anyways!” Lance continues, visibly gleeful. Keith reminds himself to focus on the goddamn road and remember his sister is watching with her giant wide eyes in the backseat, probably committing all his embarrassing actions to memory to report to Adam the second she is capable of speech. “I brought lots of movies. Mostly Jurassic Park, but also some educational stuff for the baby. Ghostbusters, High School Musical, you know. All that good stuff. And I stashed popcorn behind your microwave last time I slept over so we’re set for snacks.”

“Oh, we’re going to my brother’s place, actually, ‘cause Hana’s more comf— wait, behind the microwave? Why behind?”

“Wait, wait, hold on. We’re not going to your place?”

“No,” Keith says carefully. “I have some baby stuff in my apartment, but not a lot. Plus, Shiro has a better T.V. and also Adam just bought Moose Tracks. So.” He slows to a stop at a red light, noting Lance’s odd expression. “That okay?”

Lance screws up his face for a second, thinking. “I’m pretty sure? As long as there’s an extra toothbrush there. I have one at your place so I didn’t bother bringing one. And I guess I can survive a night without my face serum, but if I get one single wrinkle we’re beefing.”

“You’re not gonna get a stupid wrinkle,” Keith grouches. “And why would you get pissy if you get a wrinkle? We’re gonna get them eventually, and you —”

“‘We’?” Lance teases. “You gonna grow old with me? Gonna marry me someday, Kogane?”

“—can even use Shiro’s face stuff, anyway, I’m sure it’s the same.” Keith clears his throat. “And plus —”

His voice cracks horribly. Lance makes a valiant effort to keep his giggles to himself, but as Keith face continues to get hotter and hotter he loses control and laughs, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing with every hitched breath. His laughter sets Hana off, too, both of them encouraging each other’s ridiculousness until they’re as red as Keith is, gasping for breath.

“I hate it here,” Keith mutters darkly. “I’m turning around and bringing you back. You’re the worst. Why do I go out with you.”

Lance, barely recovered, makes kissy faces at him. “Because you want to maaaarrryyyyy meeeee, you think I’m seeeeexxxyyyyy, you want to kiiiiisssss meeeee —”

He cuffs Lance in the back of his head, pretending to check his blindspot and ignoring Lance’s cries of spousal abuse. “I actually just want you to watch Miss Congeniality twelve percent less often. For your own mental health.”

“Lies and slander! Peddling of falsehoods! Perjury and defamation!”

“I’m burning your thesaurus.”

“And now threats! Hana, you shall be my witness! I will testify against you in court! You will be jailed! I will visit you twice monthly!”

“That’s the second person today who wants me in jail,” Keith comments, pulling into Shiro’s driveway. “You’d visit me even if you put me in there?”

“Well, duh. Have to make sure you don’t go around kissing cute criminal boys or I will become a cute criminal boy.”

“Right, of course. I should have known.”

“You should have, yes.” Lance leans over and kisses him on the forehead with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise. “But it’s okay, I like ‘em a little dumb.”

“Help me get the diaper bag, goober,” Keith snorts, shoving him away. “I want to get inside so I can have a burrito before you eat them all.”

———

Lance was not kidding about High School Musical.

Obviously.

“Do you want her to grow up with no understanding of community, Keith,” he scolds, and pays no mind when Keith replies, “Well, she has a family, dude, so I’m not worried.”

They watch the stupid musical.

Keith is horribly endeared by Lance’s extensive knowledge of the choreography. Lance is horribly appalled at Keith’s ignorance. Hana is intrigued, mind body and soul, by every scene with Sharpay Evans. Keith assumes this will be a problem for Adam in the near future, and resolves to make that problem worse.

All this to say he’s having a very embarrassing night, in terms of mushy thoughts and feelings.

“I can’t wait to have kids of my own someday,” Lance sighs, a very sleepy Hana tucked into the crook of his arm. He watches her, soft, and Keith pauses with a DVD held loose in his hand, enraptured, because there’s a curve to Lance’s smile that he’s never seen before, and suddenly his left hand looks bare. “I know it’s supposed to be stressful and everything, but I used to force Hunk to play house with me when we were kids. Literally every day. And when my neice and nephew were born I hogged them all the time, even when they were screaming. I dunno. Being a parent sounds awesome. You get to…like…grow a person. It’s like growing a plant but a bajillion times better, probably.”

“Yeah,” says Keith, softly, and without meaning to he’s thinking of Shiro’s tired smile and the gentle hand Adam lays on the back of his neck, of their door that was always open for Keith’s nightmares, of Shiro’s clothes ruffling as he slid to the floor and sat for hours as Keith screamed himself hoarse and cried for a mother who left. Of Adam’s boiling pots and gentle hands as he guided Keith around a chopping knife. Of both Shiro’s choked-off sobs and Adam’s right embrace as Keith came back, thirteen, in the middle of the night, scared and no longer angry, and their quiet I’m so glad you’re safe. Thank you for coming back. “Yeah, family is important.”

Lance hums. He’s quiet long enough that Keith looks up, realising for the first time his gaze has been locked, unseeing, on the pictures on the wall, of Shiro and Adam and the two of them together and with Keith and with Hana and with Keith and Hana. Lance is watching him, quiet, dark eyes knowing, Hana finally asleep in his arms, beautiful and strong and everything Keith has ever wanted, suddenly, at once.

“I love you,” he blurts.

Lance smiles. “I’ve noticed.”

“Oh, you dickhead.”

“I’m saying it back!” Lance says, snickering, free hand held up in surrender. Keith walks over and slots their fingers together, squeezing slightly, leaning in and holding, a second, a hair’s breadth away from Lance’s mouth, watching his lips part, feeling the heat of his breath. His words are breathless, near silent, mouthed as much as spoken. “You changed my life, you know. I made you chase me because I thought it was funny, but — I made Hunk get me your number from Pidge the night I left the bar. I was going to text you if your brother’s tweet didn’t go viral and cement your dorkiness for eternity.”

“That’s a lotta words to say ‘I love you’, dorkbrain.”

“I know. You make me nervous.”

“You never get nervous.”

“I do with you.”

“Yeah?”

They’re so close now that their lips brush with every word, and Lance is grinning, eyes crinkled and lashes fluttering against Keith’s cheeks, and Keith has a hand careful on Hana’s head so he doesn’t crush her and is smiling just as wide. Cheesy, dorky, corny, and everything Keith wished for after every romance novel he’d steal, fooling no one, from Adam’s shelf and read long after bedtime.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I love you. Even though you’re a dweebus and a simp.”

He is, really, because he lets Lance get away with that, kissing him to shut him up, to feel his laughter right up close. It’s sparks flying and warmth spreading and heart slowing, and in the gentle darkness of the night.

It’s the promise of more to come.

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hitomisuzuya · 2 years ago

Note

HEY OMG BRO THIS THOUGHT HAS BEEN IN MY MIND FOR A HOT MIN…. ok nsfw scara w/ afab reader and breeding fr omfg. BUR LIKE THEY R MARRIED AND ANDNB BEHJIR idk go crazy but Aplease 🙏

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Breeding kink. Constant use of a pet name. Established marriage.

Go crazy about Scara with a breeding kink? Don't mind if I do😌 I also added a touch that everyone seems to really like when I write breeding kink Scara. Here is the pitch and I hope you enjoy.

Scaramouche's hand tore in a frenzied fashion at your clothes. Moaning into your mouth, he pushed you firmly up against the wall, grinding his hardening cock between your legs. His hands went to caress your hips like they were the most precious thing in the world.

How you'd done it was anyone's guess. How'd he had done it was an even bigger guess. It would be the stuff of legends in the Fatui as long as the organization existed.

Scaramouche. The 6th Fatui Harbinger. He himself was a legend in the Fatui, famously known for his bad attitude. He was an obnoxious, narcissistic, hard to deal with little gremlin of a man.

Imagine how far their jaws dropped when they find out he had managed to lock down a wife.

His fingertips were bruising but, somehow tender on your hips, his thumb skimming feather light over them, tracing the line of your hip bone. It sent shivers up your spine, making your mewl in his mouth.

Growling huskily with lust, Scaramouche grinded himself between your legs until his cock was absolutely drenched in your slick. It always drove him over the edge seeing the way his cock glistened, shiny with your arousal.

You were panting, a vision to him as you pulled away to meet his gaze, your eyes half lidded with lust and adoration. Grasping your chin, Scaramouche nuzzled his cheek against yours before yanking you from against the wall by your hair.

Pushing you forward, he guided you onto your hands and knees, using your hair as leverage as he lined the head of his cock up with your entrance, groaning in ecstasy, pushing himself inside of you with a harsh snap of his hips.

You cried out, pleasure almost instantly curling to knot in your stomach.

Scaramouche thought his pace seemed to be a little unforgiving, despite the way you were pathetically crying out for him in absolute bliss as he slammed himself into you.

You'd suggested that you were going to take a job for the Fatui. Even though you were strong, and there was nothing he loved more than having you by his side in combat, and he would never outright insult your honor by telling you not to work again.

But damn it, Scaramouche was an old fashioned man. No wife of his should work.

"You know, kitten," He purred next your ear, flicking his tongue along your ear lobe, "any thoughts of taking that job would leave your pretty head if I fucked you full enough to knock you up. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Y-Yes," was all you could manage to stammer out, your walls clamping tight and gummy around his cock, each thrust deeper and harsher than the last, making pleasure burn white hot behind your eyes.

Scaramouche's hand groped around on your stomach, the look of glee on his face when he felt the bulge in your stomach poke against his fingers was one for the ages. "Fuck, I am so deep inside of you, you are swallowing my cock so well, kitten," He babbled, his fingers caressing the bulge before he pulled out of you, making you scream his name desperately, your walls clenching around nothing.

Flipping you over onto your back, Scaramouche's cock was back inside of you in mere moments. The second he saw the bulge in your stomach, he pressed his hand down on it, making your back arch off the bed.

"I'll fill you full until my cum gushes out of you, and even then I don't think I would be satisfied," Scaramouche continued to babble in between moans that mingled with your broken sobs of pleasure, your fingernails clawing at his back, babbles of your own about how he was making you see Celestia meant his ears.

"Your hips have always had this particular sway that drives me wild when I see it," Scaramouche gave the bulge one last push before he folded your body into a mating press, leaning down to swallow your cries of ecstasy with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

"So wide and perfect for bearing my brood," A line of spit connected your tongue to his as he pulled away, his teeth drawing blood to well up on your lower lip as he bite down, feeling his cum spill into you.

Scaramouche didn't give you time to come down from your high once your release flooded his cock, mixing with his cum, his pace never flattering. Even after fucking you so thoroughly he still didn't feel satisfied.

Your body trembled and convulsed in pleasure underneath him, serving as fuel to feed his determination. "Don't worry, kitten. You'll take cumshot after cumshot until we get this right. I'll make sure of it. All in due time."

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n

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chaoticspeedrun · 6 months ago

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saw ur recent post and thought

lets all stereotype the tmnt simps like they’re animals at a zoo together chaotic

[insert funny picture of us staring at the funny ppl in the cage with their desired turtles (i lowkey couldnt find a meme that would suite this 😠😠😠)]

raph simps ; either fiesty gremlins who’ll bite ur toes off if you go near them and spray them with water or sweet little souls who’ll tuck you in bed and give you forehead kisses. both simp types aren’t rare and are commonly found together as a pair, explaining their view on the himbo buff boy raph and how they can either “fix him” or “make him worse”.

leo simps ; traumatized beings, it doesnt matter if you’re a cocky and mean in a loving way or a i’ll do anything you say because you’re so great kind of leo simp, you’re traumatized in some sense, whether it be through fiction or real life. you guys lowkey ENJOYED giving ur oc’s or self inserts loads of angst when it came to the future and movie. man, you guys have so much love for this one turtle his ego is literally thru the roof.

donnie simps ; a true simp. let me guess— you like nerdy men who are also queer as hell, who is also straight as hell at the same time, who is also the type of man you’d expect him to do nice things for you to only throw you under the bus. listen up you simps, i understand that the few of you “down down bad” simps are into that and might sans fangirl your way into this— but let me explain and introduce you into the “ilovehimsomuchiwoulddieforhimandhisbigforehead” simps. you’d be an awesome duo trust.

mikey simps ; now i KNOW you guys got something beneath those precious and fluffy oc and self insert moments. there has gotta be SOME SORT OF EVIL ANGST AND TWISTY MOMENT YOU GOT GOING ON— much more worse than the leo trauma, FARTHER WORSE— teehee you guys got such a cute puppylove selfship going on teehee 😊😊WELL WHABAM!! the moment mikey gets his mystic powers n angsty moment in the movie out comes the freaking angst beast and comfort waves following behind it >:))))

— 🖼️🗝️ (guess whooo 🙃🙃🙃)

Not me looking at the way you signed and going "Who's Keyframe?" I AM HAVING A DIFFICULT TIME FIGURING THIS ONE OUT.

Also, I love psychoanalyzing people💖

In my opinion, from what I have seen at least, most Raph simps I've interacted with are like really sweet and anxious people that REALLY NEED A HUG just like my boy Raph.

The Leo simps, as I said earlier, enjoy bullying him so much- and with that I mean, they're most times the kind of people that tease or bully their crush, but they care so much about him and love adding so much depth to his character.

The Donnie simps I know can't drop the color purple for ONE DANG SECOND, the color is everywhere all the time all at once, they seem very curious and are some of the ones that I see the most active in the fandom.

And Mikey simps are freaking wild, one minute they're the sweetest and the next they're jumping around the walls and scaring you, I love those.

*Sips on coffee, staring at the cages*

Ah yes, what a wonderful and interesting set of specimens.

#Lmao #I really wanted to draw it as you depicted it but I can't at the moment #sob #chaos shut up #ask #rottmnt x reader

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dairy-farmer · 8 months ago

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Okay but CONSIDER~☆ Petty, territorial, exhibitionist Kon!

(Also he has Strong Opinions and I tried to keep things In Character since I am working that. He's against feminizing Tim because he doesnt want to make his boyfriend disphoric. Slight realism to the porn? Attempted!)

Him and Tim? Dating. His memory? Flawless. He remembers EXACTLY all the emotionally scarring bullshit they put his boyfriend through. Tim may forgive, but HE doesn't. Fuck those guys.

What's WORSE? He can hear EVERYTHING. Your expressionless mask doesn't mean SHIT when he can hear your heart rate pick up. SEE your eyes dilate. When walls don't do SHIT to stop him hearing you beating your meat franticly, after excusing yourself to "make a call".

But Tim's HIS. Not theirs.

They break his heart and make him feel not good enough. KON makes him feel loved and powerful and happy. KON spent his whole life, fighting to have things that were JUST for him. His, not superman, not anyone else's. His. And Tim? Is HIS boyfriend. Is amazing.

And Kon LOVES making him feel good.

Really taking his time. Using his TTK to tease and pinch, stroke and hold, keeping Tim JUST where he needs him. Taking care of his needs in the ways Tim never seems too. Over and over, til he's all soft and boneless. Twitching. Gushing all the pleasure Kon pumped into him. Head finally quiet.

It's amazing.

So maybe that's why he doesn't stop. Even though he hears the arrogant stomping of Jon's bratty friend. Jon cleared out to the barn and some loud music over an hour ago. When he caught the LOOK Kon was giving Tim. Smart kid. But apparently not smart enough to drag his buddy along. Because now the little shit is looking for him.

Kon doesn't care.

He is face first between to long, powerful, legs and trying to make Tim's brain melt with his tounge alone. From the grip on his hair? Decent progress, so far. He adds fingers, making Tim's back bow. Earning those awesome little sounds.

The foot steps faltered then froze, outside his door. The brats heart rate has sky rocketed. Turned on by listening to Tim getting finger fucked. What a little perv.

But? Kon's discovered? He's kinda... in to it.

Showing them what they'll NEVER get to have. Showing them how it's DONE. That's right, little perv, listen to how GOOD I make him feel. You could never. This is what he, the REAL Robin, deserves.

Fucking Tim? While Damian stands frozen just outside his bedroom door? Is one of the best times they've had together. Kon nearly breaks his bed. Leaves Tim hoarse but glowing the next day. Granted, with a noticeable limp and unable to sit down, but Tim is hardly complaining.

Kon just grins, like a shark, every time Damian looks at him.

And of course, Kon has to do it again. It was AMAZING. Invite him oooover, babe. He miiiiisses yoooou. Sad face.

Tim laughes but does. Gotham is stressful after all. Even if, for some reason, the gremlin has been avoiding him. Weird, chirps Kon, who knows EXACTLY why. Wonder why that could be?

Arrives to find Dickhea- sorry, Tim's BELOVED brother DICK, who definitely didn't betray him, and TOTALLY didn't try to Put Him In ARKHAM, THAT Dick... hanging around. Trying to "make amends". (Kon's ass he is.) And doing team ups. Hanging like a leech all over KON'S boyfriend. Eating all of the food TIM should be coaxed into eating before there's a chance and lounging around Tim's home like he owns the place!

.....ha ha. Kon's not mad, babe. Promise. He could NEVER be mad at YOU. :) :) :)

(He might murder this clingy bitch, though.)

But, hey! This IS Rob's place. And you know what's Perfectly Reasonable, nay, even NATURAL, to do in one's own place? With their boyfriend? Come here, babe~ My power, clever, gorgeous, sexy, hasn't showered for three days, hot mess~ let's get you cleaned up and in bed.

Oh yeah, your brother will TOTALLY respect Boyfriend's Over time. I texted him for you and everything thing! (Kon didn't and honestly? Dick wouldn't.)

So Kon gets his boyfriend naked. Always a delight. Some sexy groping and forplay in the shower. Wet and sexy fun! A classic. Can Kon hear Dick planning to "head over to Tim's"? Half way across the city? Well maybe certain individuals are about to learn to text first. And that they will NEVER get what they want so bad, no matter how hard they go panting.

Meanwhile? Kon is working Tim up. Hitting all his good spots. Stubble rubbed against the neck, as he kisses his way down. Not too hard, since Kryptonian hair has no give. Just little prickly sparks. Right down to his pecs. Not tits, never tits, or Kon gets kicked out of the bed for WEEKS. Made THAT mistake exactly ONCE.

Manly, manly pecs with the hottest pink little nipples you've ever seen. Likes when Kon uses his TTK for the other one. Focuses on uses his hands to stretch him, tease his fantastic hole and little t-dick clit. Tim totally loses it. Starts trying to RIDE his hand and make him go faster. Always whines and begs when Kon has to hold him still.

Oh look, someone sneaking in the window uninvited. Wonder who that could be? Gee, sure hope he remembered to close that security feed of the bedroom. But, shucks. Technology is just SO confusing! Hope they don't ASSUME Tim is ALWAYS at his desk and go looking there first!

Does Kon sit up and leave Tim's nips to his TTK, just so the cameras can REALLY get a good visual? Of COURSE not. Tim just really, REALLY enjoys the feeling. So he's giving him double the action as he slides home. Even adds his clit to the teasing, just to see that open mouth, gasping for air, feral thrashing look, Tim gets.

Kon hear the searching, meandering footsteps of their intruder, reach Tim's desk and freeze. In that way only a highly trained Bat could. A heart rate spikes and breathe is sucked in sharply. A swallow.

Ah, did Kon for get to turn off the audio? Whoops. Thank goodness it was on low, huh? But I bet that close to the desk, you can hear it. Room's REAL quiet.

Shift of fabric, the camera's audio is turned up.

Perverts, all of um. "Brotherly feelings" his ASS. Kon fucks Tim through his first orgasm, pounding short and rough RIGHT against that spot he likes, just as Tim likes him too. Listens to Tim's perv brother jerk himself desperately. Fantasize about how HE would be SO much nicer and sweeter to Tim's hole. Timmy this and that, like Rob's a little kid.

Like Rob would even be INTO any of that.

Calls Robs pecs TITS. Calls him PRETTY. Has no idea what Tim NEEDS and never did. Can't GIVE IT to Tim like Kon can. Pump into his hole until Tim feels like he's gonna break, then grind nice and deep until he DOES. Tease him for hours when he's all stressed and lost in his head, so he unravels into mush. Lift him up and don't let him down until he's been STUFFED with you. Til his legs are shaking and he can barely see straight. Till all he want is to pass out and cuddle.

Rob needs someone who will lovingly fuck him UNCONSCIOUS and will still be there, holding him, FUCKING HIM, when he wakes up. Needs to be so WANTED it drives someone a little insane. Needs good and pleasure and thoughtless, bone melting bliss. Not babying and tender little nothings.

And frankly? Kon is a petty, mean, Tim-fucker. He's woken up and chosen violence.

Deliberately avoids Tim's g-spot, like that isn't an execution worthy offense. Tell him, babe~ He wants to HEAR. What do want him to do to you? And Tim? Who is being fucking edged and FURIOUS about it? Says BET, opens his mouth, and makes all of Kon's dreams come true.

Holy Shit, Babe~ :D Yes Sir o7

Kon gets to destroy some perv fantasies, hear FANTASTIC Tim dirty talk, AND use TTK to fuck every orifice Tim HAS. It's a fantastic afternoon. He even gets Tim to take a nap instead of going back to work.

And would you look at that~ No clingy leech! You want pizza? Bart recommend this great place. Let's get pizza!

But then Mr. Broody Psychological Trauma is demanding Tim come play hostess to his Gala. Isn't he dating or something? A socialite no less? Make HER do it! But no. Tim has to go entertain old rich bastards and smile.

Fuck it. He's coming too.

Tim just laughs at his blatant gate-crashing plans and hands him an invite. Asks if he wants to go suit shopping. Mmmmmm sexy suit sex. Roleplay options. Yes please. They go shopping. It's awesome.

Less awesome? The party. Very boring in fact. And EVERYBODY wants to fuck his boyfriend. This may be his villian origin story. Also he fuckin KNEW it. "Bruce isn't like that" Kon's ass! He ALSO called that he totally wants to bone Clark. Without his piercings in? And in a suit? Kon looks VERY Clark-ish. Tim's old man keeps checking him out.

Frankly, however, Kon doesnt care.

He's on his last god damned nerve with these "oops! Ha ha, my bad." Handsy mother fuckers, touching his boyfriend. He dives into the crowd. Something, something, he's drunk, Tim. Come get air with me.

Tim knows damn well he can't GET drunk.

So obviously he better go take care of his Poor Drunk Boyfriend (ooooh nooooo).

Tim drags him to some side room the family uses. Before Kon can even get his hands under all those layers, he's sliding to his knees and swallowing Kon to the root. Fuck. It's EXACTLY what Kon needs. Hot and wet, cherishing and so damn eager. Absolutely milking him.

He cups that beautiful head and let's TTK slid down his body. Like hands stroking under clothes. Pinching and massaging his pecs. Rubbing his skin. Teasing his clit. Spreading him open for fingers to stretch and fuck. Kon can just lean back and enjoy the moaning. The eager rocking of Tim's mouth onto his cock.

Especially as the feeling turns from rubbing to fingers fucking into him. From fingers into toys. From toys into cock. Until Kon is spit roasting his Boyfriend all on his own. Making him whimper and twitch as he's rocked between two cocks, just how he likes it. Clinging to Kon and treated like something precious, head utterly empty, nothing but his next orgasm to worry about.

He whines when Kon pulls out of his mouth. But Kon promises he's just switching ends.

The best part? About using TTK during sex? Is they never need sex furniture. Kon can just bend Tim over thin air. Hold him there. So long as SOME part of him is touching Tim. Which, really, is an easy ask. And dragging down the probably ruined suit pants, Kon distantly notes soft steps approaching the door.

He slides home regardless. Grips those amazing hips and starts to pound. Tim desperately teasing his chest. Mouth open to be fucked by TTK cock, pouring out moans and fucked out cries. The wet squelch of their bodies meeting.

The footsteps have frozen. A reaction, muted. Almost... trained. Someone used to controlling their body. Oh my, oh my. It's the big perv.

The door's a crack. Not closing it, huh? So who are you staring at, Bat? Tim, your SON, as he gets fucked. Gasping and drooling, moaning for more, harder, deeper. Or Kon? The CLONE of your "best friend", a married man. As he fucks your son. Hips rolling, muscles lit with sweat, groaning in the pleasure takes from the body beneath him.

Which is the one you're getting off too, Batman? Tim? Him? Both of them? That's right, close the door and run. Kon can still hear you jerking it in the family wing.

Maybe Galas ARE fun.

As for Hood? Kon gets confronted. Because Jason can see the pattern developing and is self aware enough to Admit Some Stuff to Himself(tm). He WILL shoot you. And worse, he'll tell Tim. M.A.D. mother fucker.

Well, then. As long as he's aware Kon wants his spine as a mantle decoration. And he never, EVER makes a move on his Boyfriend. Yeah. Kon is willing not to torment him with glorious Tim Sex.

Great. Here's some coupons and gift cards to fancy ass date spots. Leave Jason to suffer his many mistakes in peace. The SECOND you are dead...

Ha! Tim will clone me. But THIS time, with my permission and adding his DNA so we have a Clone-Baby. Bart is husband number 2. None of you fuckers have a chance.

Suffer.

Like Kon said, he is a petty, Tim-loving, exhibitionist, bastard. He also now has date night plans! Sweet. Oooh. Fancy! This one's that new place with the waiting list. Nice.

-🐼🐼🐼

kon being a borderline exhibitionist and making sure to fuck tim in front of his family so they know exactly who he belongs to- and then them having planned out that if he dies bart will be tim's second husband so no one in his family can have him 😭😭😭

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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in1-nutshell · 1 year ago

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Your last stuff with teen buddy resonated with me deeply as I too am a gremlin who seeks joy from the misfortune I bring onto others🙏🙏🙏

Idk if I’m requesting properly or whatever but could you do something with a similar reader/buddy expect they kinda like record bits and pieces of sounds/the voices of others and remix them into little songs for fun? Funny human mixtape is something came to me in a prophesied fever dream🫶

also your work is so good, I’ve been lurking around quietly for a little while and it’s SO GOOD AHHHH!!! IM SCREAMING AND JUMPING OFF THE WALLS!!!!!!!

Buddy is always a little gremlin for silly little activities, especially when it comes to their friends. Let us see how a couple of noises out of context can do to some minibots!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy records out of context sounds and noises and sics them on unsuspecting bots (Tailgate, Rewind and Swerve)

SFW, platonic, Human reader

MTMTE/LL

Tailgate

Tailgate was scared when he heard the unfamiliar sound of a strange melody coming from the dark end of the Lost Lights corridor. He was just walking back from Swerve to get Cyclonus from their habsuite when he heard the noise.

Eerre noise echos through the halls

“Who’s there?!”--Tailgate

BOOM!

“AAAAAHHHHHH! CYCLONUS!”--Tailgate

“Where’s the danger!?”--Cyclonus

“Ah! How did you get here?!”--Tailgate

“Enough talk Panic button! Who do I need to shoot!?”--Whirl

“How did any of you get here so fast?!”--Tailgate

Cyclonus and Whirl had materializing out of nothing ready to hurt whatever was bothering Tailgate.

Little feet are heard as the noise gets louder.

“We have you out numbered 3 to one monster!”--Whirl

“Show yourself!”--Cyclonus

“Cyclonus? Whirl? Tailgate?”--Buddy

“Buddy?! What are you doing here? There’s a monster—”--Tailgate

“Oh, no that’s just my new boombox. I got it at that flea market last stop. I’ve been trying to see how it works for about a good couple of minutes.”--Buddy

“… Can I still kill it?”--Whirl

“Whirl?!”—Buddy, Cyclonus and Tailgate

Rewind

He had a compilation of out context noises and sounds. When Buddy tells him that they have a plan to use them he is in. Together they make a little playlist of creepy noises and hook it up to the ship’s main intercom.

“You think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Agreed.”

“… You want to push the button?”

“Yes, please.”

Everyone was on edge whenever a particular noise would stress. But the ship is saved by the minibot and Buddy’s moral compass.

“Alright. I think that’s enough.”--Rewind

“Yeah, it’s getting boring.”--Buddy

“You want to go find Domey for movie night?”--Rewind

“Yeah! Horror movie night!”--Buddy

Somewhere on the Lost Light

“Why am I getting the feeling that am in danger?”--Chromdome

Swerve

This one was on accident.

Buddy was trying to hear what their new compilation of eerie sound sounded like for the Halloween party.

But they just couldn’t hook up their device to their headphones.

“Hook up already!”--Buddy

Meanwhile at Swerve’s

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!”--Swerve

What they didn’t know was that the device was instead paired with Serve’s speakers. Everyone was freaking out when the music suddenly turned into screams. Swerve, being the closest to the speaker fainted after the first few seconds.

Finally, after a bit Buddy is able to hear their playlist through their device.

“Hey guys I have the—where did everyone go?”--Buddy

Meanwhile at Rung’s there is a mile line for appointments.

Swerve is recovering in the Med bay.

And Rung now has more bots booked for an appointment and rumors fly around the ship being haunted goes around again.

#transformers #transformers x reader #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte swerve #mtmte rewind #mtmte tailgate #maccadam #mtmte x platonic reader #human buddy

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arkaix · 5 months ago

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*breaks through the wall* I CANNOT EXPRESS ENOUGH HOW GRATEFUL I AM FOR YOUR MORTIMER POST I AM KISSING YOU RN /PLATONIC PLATONIC-

mortimer is so underrated us mortimer fans have to scrounge in the dirt for content and will have to keep doing that until pastra shows us mercy and he shows up in some promo art or in doai itself. but seeing fan content that we all create makes it worth the wait frfr! anyways, im going to be freaking out over this for the next week, thank you so much, farewell-

ABJDJRJFJJEJXJRJEHHFHTJW thankyousomuch aaa (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ I cannot WAIT to see how Mort will fit into the main story, but for now we'll make it work with what we have (not much TwT)

Recently Pastra posted a tweet with the moral alignment of all the characters and 👀👀 Mortimer is lawful neutral apparently!

That's interesting, maybe since Mort is working for the Lankmann foundation he'll be thinkin' "Yea maybe what's happening is fucked up but I believe it's necessary/ the lesser evil"

That's not gonna stop me from drawing him as a little gremlin hehehe

(definitions taken by the D&D alignment chart wiki)

Now while we're here allow me to ramble a bit about this tweet because there's a lot to ponder 👀👀

here goes out the window any chance that Clyde might be an even remotely peaceful creature in normal circumstances: it's here to get its revenge and it's gonna cause as much damage as possible in the meantime <@_@>

On the other side Winfrey is true neutral aaaaaaa ✨✨

Klaus is the one that baffles me the most because?? The one Veldi who Pastra described as the sadistic one is Lawful??

We know for a fact that Klaus is the name of officer Krueger's son, who in the current timeline is still VERY young (we're talking like 10yr young). We still don't know yet if in this new version of the story Veldigun share a mind with the ones they consume but if that's the case, will lil' Klaus have a warped and strict vision of society and rules? Will this aspect be influenced by Klaus' dad himself? Will his "system" or strict code of conduct be related or opposite to the one reinforced by Lankmann?

SIMON IS STILL GOOD CONFIRMED YEAAAAA

______________________________________________________________

Oh and if you were wondering about Lankmann:

That also surprised me 'cause my first thought was "Well he'd be lawful evil, he is in charge of a rigid system he created and is absolutely willing to sacrifice a few people if that can help save the county from the whole Veldigun crisis" but talking with some friends I realized this alignment makes sense too, if you think about Herbert as a ruthless man who will stop at nothing to achieve his goal, no law and no moral is unbreakable. It is debatable if he also actively wants to cause harm to others, but my guess is that he just doesn't care who gets hurt.

That being said thank you so much for the ask, have a cyber hug (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠⊂⁠)

#expect more Mortimer content in the next days I'm having too much fun with him heheheh #arkaix talks #doai #dreams of an insomiac #pastra #pastraspec

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atsadi-shenanigans · 7 months ago

Text

Something Full-Bodied and Red

Did a thing. Here's period smut!

It hits you right as he says, “No need to bleed by yourself, my love.” Your jaw drops. You stare at him, in his words, all agog. “You… are you saying…?” “Offering my companionship during your trying times? Yes, I believe I am. You smell delicious, Eleanor. I’ve been thinking about devouring you all day.” No mistake as his gaze slides down to the extra padding beneath your trousers. Or the way his pupils eclipse the red irises.

Or: Aunt Flo comes to visit. Astarion is delighted to make her acquaintance.

You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.

You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”

It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.

Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.

Shit goddamn fuck.

Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”

His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”

An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.

“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”

Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.

His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.

“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”

Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.

But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.

As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.

“’M okay,” you say.

He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.

The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.

Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.

He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.

You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.

He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.

So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.

It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.

“God that’s nice,” you say.

One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.

He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.

You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.

But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.

It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—

You shift.

His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—

“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.

Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).

You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.

You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—

“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.

(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)

“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?” Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.

Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.

“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.

This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.

Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.

His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…

You clasp a hand over your mouth.

“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.

Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.

“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”

“But everybody’s so close.”

He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.

“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.

The rest on AO3.

#full-bodied and red #these two shitheads #astarion smut #bg3 smut #tavstarion smut #period kink #astarion period kink #blood kink #vampire shenanigans #these two are so weird #idiots in love #they're both assholes

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multiwreckedmess · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober Day 9

Prompt: Stuck in Wall Pairing: CampusCrush!Wooyoung x fem!reader WC: 1.8k Summary: Instructions unclear, stuck in the new IKEA Bestå. This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Wooyoung or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. TW/CW Under the Cut!

TW/CW: just so fucking stupid. little bit of ass fixation, slight dry humping, protected sex, really fucking stupid

“I cannot believe I’m stuck in some cheesy porn script. Oh this sucks. Oh my god this sucks,” you yell. The assembly instructions for your new television console clearly stated that it was a two person job and yet, you were stubborn and went ahead. Now, almost two hours later, you’ve somehow pretzel’d your way through one of the cubbies with no way out. “Wooyoung help! Can you hear me, you moron, help! You’re going to go deaf if you keep listening to music that loud you little-SHIT,” a sharp slap to your ass interrupts your tirade. “WOOYOUNG!” His witch cackle gives him away. Presumably somewhere behind you, your leg kicks blindly back. “I dropped the screwdriver and now- it’s too heavy I’ll get squished if I knock it over,” you gesture at your predicament. He cackles again. The cold snap of a camera shutter echoing in your mind. “Did you just take a picture of my ass?” You practically scream. “Help me or the second I get out of this thing I’m going to end your entire short twink-y life you GREMLIN.” Sighing, Wooyoung places his phone on the kitchen counter. Appraising what exactly had you helpless in front of him. “You can just go back the way you came?” “No moron. If it was that easy I would've done it. Now can you please PLEASE pull me?”

One hand bracing the frame of the console, the other holding your waist Wooyoung pulls. You don’t budge an inch. He huffs, blowing a tendril of hair up and away from his face. You bounce on your tippy toes with frustration, the fat of your ass jiggling alluringly. You don’t even know you’re doing it as he’s chubbing up inside of his sweats. “Help me out on this would yah?” Wooyoung asks as he readjusts his arm placement. “I”m holding the shelf just focus on pulling back with me, three, two, one, GO!” Both of you tug down, your ass grinding into him, adjusting the height as you push back harder and harder. Still you stay trapped between plywood boards and what’s worse is you can feel him slowly hardening in his loungewear and you don’t hate it.

You’d had a soft spot for Wooyoung, how could anyone not. Handsome with the right amount of self awareness and unique strange charm. In part you wanted to surprise him with the fully built furniture as a way of impressing him, showing him how sufficient you were, as if singlehandedly setting up the entire apartment would win his heart. Dumb, but crushes make you do dumb things. “At least your ass looks great like this,” Wooyoung laughs, taking a handful of flesh in his grasp. “God, I never understood how people could be into those cheesy porn plots but… damn. Really is all out there, vulnerable and whatever.” You stamp your feet, “Wooyoung it isn’t funny.” It wasn’t how you wanted to catch his attention but if it was working who were you to stop it. “What am I gonna do?” Having had a fondle with one hand his other joins, grabbing the opposite cheek, massaging in large slow circles. “Maybe if you relax a bit,” he trails off. “Take advantage of the situation, meditate…or something.” As if hypnotized by his own languid touches, his hips drift forward to meet your butt. He rests there just leaning into you as blood rushes from his brain to his dick.

You aren’t doing much better, practically melting in your pants from even this slightest of touches. It was ill advised to move in with him, but you thought that living together would kill the small flame you’d been carrying. Instead the spark had become a full kitchen fire and now it was spreading to the living room. Your head swimming with his suggestion to “take advantage” of your current predicament. “I’m not very good at meditating, could you help me relax?” “You know, it’s really convenient that I’m home right now. Right when you’re building this. If I’d gone out you’d really be out of luck.” Wooyoung’s teeth catch his lower lip, fighting back a moan as you adjust yourself, ass rubbing against him in the process. “Here’s the problem. I also need help with something,” he pauses, leaning forward and pressing his bulge into you harder. “I think you know what with.” “Mhm,” you nearly whine, lips pressed together hard, making a thin line across your strained face. “It’s sort of your fault, if you think about it. So you should be the one to help me. Take responsibility and all.” He fully settles his clothed bulge between your cheeks, dragging them along his length. “Yes, really, god yes. It’s totally my fault,” you capitulate easily, voice tightening as need sinks heavily into your core. “However you want me to take it, I will. Responsibility I mean. Take responsibility. I can take it in whatever way.”

Wooyoung is ready, just waiting for your word before he drops his waistband to his thighs, a small damp spot already formed in his underwear. Running the length of his shaft along the smooth spandex of your tights gives him goosebumps, a tremor of elation passing through his spine. Tentatively he presses the head into the stretched fabric, watching it dimple and pucker under his microthrusts. “You can take it however I want you to?” His cheshire smile spread wide across his face, tinting his tone. “Even if it’s just this?” “Mhm,” you desperately want more than just this. Fingers gripping the slats of wood as he jostles you. A short sad wheeze escapes through your nostrils. Despite your best efforts to tamp down your desire your body betrays you. Wooyoung laughs again, a short outburst, hand coming down hard on your ass before wrapping you in a hug, as best he can. “You sound so distressed! How will you relax if this is all I give you?” Hand snaking south he presses on your mound, the wet squelch of soaked underwear against his fingers sends another shiver down his spine. “You really want me, don’t you?” “Fuck Woo, yeah I do.”

The response of your pussy to the telltale crinkle of foil is almost pavlovian, walls fluttering in anticipation of fullness. Feeling the warmth of Wooyoung’s palm on your lower back you can picture the packet between his lips, tearing it open with one hand, not wanting to be too far from you. The console rocks as he roughly pulls your leggings just under your ass, just enough to give him access to what matters. Strings of your wetness cling and shine as his fingers slide along your slit. “I was going to prep you but-” he wiggles two fingers in, your walls sucking him deeper. It’s enough to interrupt his train of thought, his persistent teasing. All he can think about is the comfort of your sex. How inviting it is, how ready you are, how much you must want it. “-fuck that’s hot.” “Please Woo, please, hurry.” You beg. You don’t need to as he quickly replaces his fingers with his cock. Grabbing the frame of the furniture he pulls you back onto him in one smooth thrust. The fullness twists in your gut, knocking the breath from your lungs. “OH! Shit, you feel-why are you so big?” You sound almost offended as you moan, adjusting to the pressure. “You don’t know that,” he kneads your lower back, rocking closer. “God I wish I could grab your tits. They’ve always looked so fucking delicious. Just sitting there, taunting me.” “Grab them later fuck me now.” You groan, swirling your hips on him. The wood of the console keeps you from doing much more than rocking and twerking on him. “Show me how much you want it.” He demands. “I know you can do it. You set all this up. Show me how much you need me to fuck you.” Whining you arch your back, wiggling your hips side to side. It barely shifts him within you. He still doesn’t move to fuck you. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you try humping back on him as best you can. Jaw slackening a dry hiccuped sob escapes you. “I’m stuck, you have to. You have to!”

With a smirk he grabs your waist, tugging back on you to hold you in place. Leaning back and away he rolls his hips, the ridges of your walls dragging along his length. Driven by crazed lust, it isn’t enough to feel how you grip him, he needs to see it. Wooyoung holds the hem of his shirt between his teeth, watching how his abs flex as his bodyline rolls again, your lips tugging with the slow thrust of his cock. “Woo,” you moan as he slowly fucks you. It’s nice to moan his name aloud for once instead of just in your head. “God damn it Woo. Ssooo good.” “Hmph,” his response is muted by the cotton shirt. Speeding up little by little. Your eyes glaze over, mind hazy. Getting fucked by your crush in the living room you shared. Nothing matters except for the insistent drag of his cock against your walls. His hips feel like magic, melting your tension with each stroke. Your leg shakes as your orgasm builds, the entire structure swaying. Wooyoung’s hands migrate from you to the wood, gripping it and using it as leverage to pound into you harder than before. The ripple of your ass with each percussive slap of his hips has him hypnotized. Lost to the friction of your walls, he thrusts deliriously with abandon, uncaring of the precious nature of the situation. Chasing the delight of your punched out moans and groans. Core contracting, air is forced from your lungs. The wave of pleasure crashes over you, every muscle bracing as it hits hard. At the same time the console creaks, your top half jolting free. A choked yelp escapes you, unable to warn Wooyoung. The structure crashes forward, fear clamping your walls tightly down on him. “Shit!” He yelps, eyes wide he spills into the condom unceremoniously. “Fuck!” He continues a steady stream of swear words as he pulls from you, stumbling backwards as you crumple to your knees, panting. “Can’t believe that worked-” “I came,” Wooyoung sounds dejected, red and panting. “FUCK! I came so quick.” Your eyes dart under the sofa, a glimmer of the a loose screw hiding underneath. Looking from Wooyoung to the screw you scoot and reach your arm towards the glimmer, instead grabbing the crossbar of the couch. “Uh…I hate to say it Woo but-” His eyes twinkle, “you’re stuck? What a dummy, getting stuck twice. I’m going to start thinking you’re doing this on purpose.”

I just love giving Wooyoung the most ridiculous of prompts. He’s fun to write for me.

#wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez smut #atz smut #ateez kinktober #atz kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kpop kinktober #kpop smut

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