#then i got to slice some cheese for it and it pet me and called me a good girl as a reward for doing such a good job for it! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slashersgirlypop · 2 years

Text

Grilled Cheese Chapter 6.

TW: NON-CON AND NON SEXUAL SPANKING

(September 1st, 1978)

I huffed, bored out of my mind. Yes, I was still scared of the big, strong, stabby man, (who I just started to call Mask-Man), but I also was locked in the closet for a great majority of the day. If I had to guess, I had been in this closet for maybe five or so hours? Maybe more? All I knew was that when I knocked on the door, asking for at least some food, a slice of cheese was shoved at me. He only let me out today twice to use the restroom. I heard him leave about maybe an hour after locking me in the closet and then come back four hours later through the back door.

Some point during the day, before he left, I heard Miss Petunia come down the stairs. I don’t know what happened, but it didn’t sound like there was any sounds of pained meows. I did hear her begin to eat food, so thankfully the stoic and silent Mask-Man does have decency to at least feed her.

“Excuse me? Sir? Mr. Mask-Man-Person? Are you, uh, just planning on keeping me in here forever? You know, I got a job and friends who might be wondering where the hell I am. Also, it’s really boring in here. I counted all the brush-hair-things on the broom in here fifteen times. I’m worried I’ll go crazy, so, can I be let out?”

As expected, I got no response. I groaned, slumping against the door, sliding down until my butt hit the floor. I began to light bonk my head against the wood. Alright, time to use the annoying-hostage-girl approach.

“Let me out please.” Bonk.

“Let me oOF-,” I huffed, falling on my back once he opened the door. I stared up at him, my head between his shoes, him looking down at me. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I hoped he looked annoyed by my successful antics.

“Mra?” Miss Petunia chirped from Mask-Man’s shoulder, looking down at me curiously. My mouth slightly opened in betrayal at my cat. While I was locked in the dusty old closet, my beloved pet was buddying up and getting all cozy with my captor. The audacity of pets, I swear.

“Alright. So, are we just gonna have a staring contest, Mask-Man? Am I allowed to come out? If you’re planning on a staring contest, it’s not really fair on my end because you could be blinking and I’d have no way to tell with your mask and all.” Shrugging, I looked up at the man. He just stared at me before walking away, leaving me on the floor.

Groaning, I sat up, feeling my joints cracking in my back. I hoping he wasn’t planning on locking me in the closet tonight, because that would not be comfortable to sleep in. Speaking of which, where did he sleep last night?

I turned, jumping as he just stood behind me.

“How are you so fast and quiet, pal?” I asked. Wordlessly, he thrusted two objects into my chest. It was a notepad and crayons. Did…did he want me to draw or something? Then, Mask-Man pushed me not too gently into the family room, where the TV was on, playing cartoons. He shoved me into a chair before walking over and plopping down on the couch. Miss Petunia mewed softly at him as if the gently chide him before hopping off his should and walking over to me. She laid at the bottom of my chair, her head on my foot, and she began to purr quietly.

Mask-Man said nothing, only focusing his attention on the animated figures. Honestly, this is not how I would imagine a kidnapping or hostage-taking-thing would go. It could be worse; I could be dead. At least my only reason to be alive is that I make him food.

I began to absentmindedly draw on the paper, getting lost in my thoughts. I didn’t want to be his cook forever, and eventually someone other than Mr. Steinberg is going to wonder what happened to me and come check on me. Mrs. Gracie most likely will send one of her boys to check on me, like she did when I was sick with the flu and had to take off work. Until then, I have to figure out how to play my cards right and not piss off this guy to the point of killing me. Despite my numerous other escape attempts, I knew I could get out and get help. But how is the question? He’s always there, he’s quieter than an ant, he can kill me probably with one hand, so what would I do-wait. My crayon skid to a stop on the mane of the badass centaur I was drawing

Does he know I have a gun?

Earlier, when I thought he was just some kid pulling a mean joke, I did mention it, but I don’t know if he thought I was bluffing or not. I hope he does think I’m bluffing. I could use the gun and force him to let me out, or even kill him. I frowned at that idea. I don’t really like the idea of taking a life, even if he did kill people, but if I must…

I stood up, stretching my arms, his head turning to me. He began to stand up as well before I sighed.

“I’m just going to make myself some food, Mask-Man. No need to patrol and act as my guard. I’m not dumb enough to try to escape again,” except that I was, “so just, chill out. I’m just hungry because all you gave me was a slice of cheese.” He paused before slowly sitting back down, his head still pointed at me. Then, he slowly turned his attention back to the screen.

Taking deep breathes as quietly as I could as I walked kitchen, my eyes zeroed in on the drawer where the pistol was. Casually, I approached the pantry, which was near the drawer, but unfortunately in sight of the family room, meaning Mask-Man could see me. It also just occurred to me that I had no idea how to use a fucking gun. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Just aim and shoot. I mean, I think it was loaded, although I wasn’t sure.

After pretending to peruse the pantry, I took a deep and shaky breath before yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. I gripped it with both hands and pointed it at the man, who now was staring at me, standing up.

“You know what this is, buddy? It’s a fuckin’ gun. I didn’t wanna do this, but I had no choice. Let me go,” I ordered, trying my best to look intimidating despite the man practically being a giant compared to me. He merely stared at me, before taking a step in my direction, which I yelled at.

“H-HEY! No! Don’t take any steps towards me, you mask-guy-man. Stay there! I will shoot! Don’t try me!” He proceeded to take several more steps, despite my warnings. When he was within five feet of me, I closed my eyes and aimed the gun at his head.

“I’m sorry, but I warned you!” I pulled the trigger, wincing and bracing myself for the inevitable fact that I will be staring at a corpse when I opened my eyes.

Click. My eyes whipped back to the gun, wide. It’s in that moment I realized that it, in fact, wasn’t loaded. Fuck.

He grabbed the gun and wrenched it out of my hands, throwing it aside, staring down at me.

“Shit, oh shit, I’m sorry, please don’t kill me, I’m sorry! PLEASE!” I pled, shrieking as he grabbed my hair, no doubt pulling out strands as he dragged me to the living room, my scalp screaming in pain.

He sat down on the couch, yanking me over his lap, making me lose my breath. He grabbed my jeans and yanked them down along with my panties, exposing my ass to the open. I began to writhe, desperately trying to get off him. He was going to rape me, he was going to fucking rape me-

I gasped in pain as I felt his big hand come down of my right cheek, the pain bursting out. I didn’t have time to process what he was doing though because he continued to spank my ass, no doubt leaving bruises at a relentless pace. I began to sob around thirty, dangling miserably from his lap.

My ass felt like it was on fire. He didn’t stick to a pattern, he just spanked. I never had felt so humiliated in my life.

By the time he was done, I was a sobbing mess. Snot was dribbling slowly out my nose onto the carpet below, tears also staining the carpet.

I choked on air when he cruelly gripped my left cheek, digging his nails into the skin. I just let him, feeling defeated. I didn’t know how to react. I was just grateful he was done.

He shoved me off his lap and onto the carpet. I yelped, before continuing to sob, my rear exposed to the air still.

He just ignored me, as he normally did.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪

ye, sorry if you aren't normally a crier, (y/n) got a bit of a traumatic experience. I was basing her reaction off what I would do in this situation, and I would just fuckin sob and feel weak. MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HANUKAH/ HAPPY WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE!!!! See ya, my fellow slasher sluts.

#halloween 1978 #michael myers #slasher #yandere michael myers #yandere michael myers x reader #hostage reader #tw: noncon #captive reader

72 notes · View notes

petermorwood · 2 years

Text

Garlic!

We’ve got an old-ish French cookbook...

...that arrived about 30 years ago with some enamelled cast-iron cookware, now showing their age a bit but still going strong (winks at self in mirror...)

The recipes are all home-style - often farmhouse-style - rather than Haute Cuisine, and IMO all the more appealing for it.

With Hallowe’en just round the corner, here are a couple of soups with a lavish use of one particular ingredient to keep the vampires at bay.

Garlic Soup

Ingredients:

5 heads (!) of garlic

some oil for frying

2 potatoes

5 thick slices of bread

salt & pepper.

Method:

Peel the garlic cloves and put them into a pot with some oil.

Fry until lightly coloured.

Peel the potatoes, cut them into small pieces and add to the pot along with hot water and the bread. (Mme David doesn’t specify how much water, so I suppose it’s cook’s choice to make thick soup or thin.)

Simmer for 1/4 hour then put through a food mill / blender / processor or use a stick-mixer.

I’d dress each bowlful with a swirl of cream and a sprinkle of snipped chives; maybe also a few drops of Tabasco, some bread croutons and bacon lardons.

But that’s just me.

*****

Garlic soup au “P’tit quinquin”

This means “little kiddie” in Picardy dialect. It’s also a brand of lemonade, but I have no idea how it’s associated with soup. Since the slang name for fried choux doughnuts / beignets is “pets de nonne” (nun’s farts) your guess may be as good as mine. :->

*****

An old Northern saying goes: "if men knew what garlic is worth, they would plant acres of it.” (journaux = an old measure of area)

Ingredients:

3 litres of water

30 (!) garlic cloves

2 cloves

4 sage leaves

salt & pepper

bread

butter

grated cheese

Method:

Put the water, garlic, cloves and sage leaves in a saucepan.

Season with salt and pepper and simmer for 15 to 18 minutes.

Pass through a mill / blender etc..

Pour into a soup tureen lined with slices of bread which have been previously buttered, sprinkled with grated cheese and put in a hot oven (or under a grill / broiler).

Once again I’d add things: in this case the presence of cheese suggests topping off with onion rings either crunchy or caramelised soft and very brown, and the cloves and sage would be enhanced by a dusting of quatre-épices (4-spice mix).

But again, that’s just me. :-)

(Somewhat later @dduane plans to try a recipe from 1922 called “Goose done Vise-style” - braised with pot-au-feu vegetables, then cut up, dipped with egg and flour, fried golden in butter and served alongside the veggies with a nutmeg and garlic cream sauce. The recipes in this little book suggest that French rural-regional cooking is serious stuff. Yum...)

#food and drink #garlic soup #provincial french cooking #farmhouse cooking

90 notes · View notes

alsjeblieft-zeg · 3 months

Text

068 of 2024

The Yellow Survey 💛

by joybucket

1. Name three things you like that are yellow. Lemons, ducklings, honey.

2. When was the last time you rode on a school bus? 🚌 Probably 15 years ago or even longer, but our school buses aren't yellow. They are white. :P

3. When you were younger, did you ever ride the bus to school? 🚌 Yeah, to secondary school. To primary school, I was taking the tram.

4. Would you say you are a generally optimistic person, or are you more of a pessimist? Definitely optimistic. I always see things as an opportunity, too.

5. Which of these names do you like best for a girl: Sunny, Joy, Summer, October, or Autumn? Joy and Autumn.

6. Are you wearing anything yellow right now, and if so, what? One of my bracelets has yellow in it, it's an autism bracelet.

8. When was the last time you made yourself some macaroni and cheese? I don't like macaroni and cheese. I tried it once and no, thanks. :P

9. Would you rather drink fresh-squeezed lemonade, a banana smoothie, or 7-Up? Lemonade.

11. What are three things that make you happy? My cat and cats in general, the beauty of nature, trains.

12. Which one of these words would you say describes you best: optimistic, childlike, childish, flirty, or bright 💡? Optimistic and childish at times, because I still have a sense of humour of a 12 years old boy. :P

13. How many times have you gotten stung by a bee in your lifetime? 🐝 Maybe once or twice, but I've been stung by a wasp more times. And I'm allergic to them.

14. Which of these cartoon characters do you like the most: SpongeBob SquarePants, The Simpsons, Bananas in Pajamas, Pluto (Goofy's dog), or Tweety Bird? Pluto and the Simpsons.

15. List three things you can see in the room right now that are yellow. A highlighter (I prefer using yellow ones, I don't know, the shade is just awesome), grocery bag from Jumbo, box of cookies.

16. Would you rather eat a slice of lemon meringue pie, banana pudding, or a cheese danish? Cheese danish. I didn't know it was called that way, though :D

17. What is your favorite type of cheese? 🧀 Young gouda and mozzarella, in recent years I also got to like emmental.

18. Are you a natural blonde? 👱‍♀️ No, I'm not. I wish I was, though.

19. Have you ever dyed your hair blonde? 👱‍♀️ No, it wouldn't work on my hair without bleaching :(

20. Name three people you know who have natural light blonde hair. My sister, our friend Peggy (her hair is really amazing), and my ex.

21. Is there a hair color you like better than blonde, and if so, what is it? Yeah, red. More like that copper shade.

22. Did you see the April 2024 solar eclipse? No, it was passing through the US :( all I could do was watching a livestream on YouTube.

23. Which of these careers do you think you would enjoy the most: motivational speaker, lifeguard, circus clown 🤡, surfer 🏄, or photographer? Photographer, definitely. It was a really easy choice. :D

24. Have you ever had a yellow lab for a pet? No, but I had a yellowish-beige dog before.

25. Do you like to eat corn on the cob? 🌽 Never tried it.

26. Which of these types of soup do you like best: corn chowder, cheesy broccoli, cheesy potato, or butternut squash? Cheesy broccoli, yum.

27. What is your favorite way to eat eggs? 🍳 Hard-boiled or scrambled.

28. Would you rather visit Spain 🇪🇸, Zimbabwe 🇿🇼, or Venezuela 🇻🇪? Spain, it's been my dream.

29. What are three of your favorite McDonald's menu items? 🍔🍟 Nuggets with barbecue sauce, Filet-O-Fish, and McMuffins (sadly not available in my country, I have to go to France for that :()

30. What are three things you dislike that are yellow? Bananas, mango, dandelions (I'm allergic to them).

31. What is your favorite shade of yellow? Neon yellow (I love neon colours, oh my), cream, lemon, chartreuse yellow.

32. What is your least favorite shade of yellow? That old gold/mustard shade or whatever. Looks like diarrhea to me.

33. What is your favorite way to eat pineapple? 🍍 I don't like pineapples.

34. List three things that you think taste better with butter. 🧈 Potatoes, bread, anything fried on butter (better than oil, in my opinion).

35. Which of these cartoon characters do you like best: Big Bird, Flounder, Charlie Brown, Woodstock, or Donald Duck? Donald Duck.

36. Do you own a pair of rain boots, and if so, what do they look like? No, I don't. Maybe I should, given my country's reputation as very rainy :P

37. Have you ever had a sunflower garden in your yard? 🌻 I had sunflowers in the garden when I was a child. They were cute.

38. Do you prefer dandelions, daffodils, marigolds, daisies, or sunflowers? Daffodils, I have some sentiment to them.

39. How many rubber ducks do you own? None. :P

40. Name someone you know who doesn't like cheese. There was someone I think, but I don't remember right now.

41. Which of these things would you prefer to dress up as for Halloween: a bumblebee 🐝 , Princess Belle, an emoji 😃, candy corn, or Big Bird? I don't celebrate Halloween, so problem solved :P maybe a bumblebee, though.

42. What was the last thing you ate that was yellow? Lemon candy for my throat. And fries before that :P

43. What was the last thing you drank what was yellow? Some kind of fruit juice.

44. Do you own a yellow sweater? No, I don't.

46. When was the last time you ate banana bread? Never, but I ate banana pancakes and they were strangely good, even though I don't like bananas.

47. What are three things you like about the sun? ☀️ It's warm, it shines when there's no clouds in the sky, and it's always nice to see the sun in this rainy country.

48. Do you know anyone who is colorblind and can't see the color yellow? No, I don't.

49. When was the last time you used a highlighter marker to highlight something? Yesterday, for marking the packing list, and today at work, to mark the missing parts for my team leader.

50. What are three things you like that are yellow that haven't already been mentioned? Fries, yellow tulips, yellow curry.

#survey #q&a survey #themed survey

0 notes

cubicle-eyes · 2 years

Text

Pants

Max , m!reader

PLATONIC

Reader is implied to be Robin's brother, but might as well be Max's in this fic lol

Y/N is graduated.

Max probably knows him through Steve and/or Billy.

Y/N's house = second home

Platonic cuddling and Y/N just pets her hair 🥺

A/N: spelling errors because I'm DYING.

TW: Literally About Periods, so be a man and deal with it.

Summary: Max had an inncident and shows up at your house for a solution, and your happy to help.

"SHIT, Y/N!"

"WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?!"

Y/N cried. He flung open the door. Max was standing on the front porch, and she despretly shoved her way inside. It wasn't uncommon, since Y/N lived very close to the highschool, but Max never dropped by so.. violently.

"Do you have an extra pair of pants?" She pleaded. Y/N, suddenly understanding, relaxed.

"Damnit, Max! I thought you were injured or someone was dying! Shit! Had me all worried over some pants."

"Well it's not my fault I bled through them!"

"Yeah, yeah. Do you use tampons? I only have pads but I can go grab some if you want."

"Why do you even have-"

"Robin."

"Oh. I can use a pad until I get home."

"Good. How bad was it?"

"Not that bad."

Max followed Y/N like a lost puppy as Y/N glanced at her pants and back to his dresser.

"I have a pair VERY similar to those that Robin left here, so change into these. Want a pair of underwear too? It'll be boxers but I have an unopened pack."

"That would be great."

Her voice was suddenly small as Y/N handed her the pants. He grabbed the bag of boxers, opening it. He shrugged, handing them to her.

"They might be a little big and if they are you can wear my belt and look like a pimp with your undies hanging out your pants."

"Y/N!"

She laughed, starting for his bathroom. Y/N waited for her, to make sure she didn't have any trouble. She cracked the door after awhile.

"Belt."

"Yep."

Y/N turned, grabbing the belt he had hanging in his room and jogging back to the bathroom door, handing it to her. She thanked him, shutting the door again. She came back out after awhile, awkwardly holding her pants in a bundle, and Y/N assumed her underwear was in there.

"You want to stay awhile, Maxine? I'll make you a snack, wash your pants."

"Sure. Thank you."

"No problem. Steve may be the babysitter, but only because I'm the brother."

Y/N chuckled to himself, taking her clothes. He could tell Max thought it was odd he was so.. okay with the mention of her monthly. To Y/N, a man didn't care, and a boy would squirm and complain. He threw the clothes in the washer, and head back to the living room. Max had made herself comfortable, spread out on Y/N's couch as she flicked through the channels.

"Earth to Max, what do you want to eat?"

"You got crackers?"

"Yep. Want anything with them or are you a basic bitch?"

"I will smack you with the power of God if you call me 'basic' or 'bitch' ever again."

"Still."

"You got pickles?"

".. No, no cheese, no meat nothing? Pickles and crackers?"

"Yep."

"..Do you want me to cut one into slices for you?"

"Yes please."

She grinned dramatically, blinking her eyes and trying to sway Y/N with her innocence. Y/N turned, flipping her off as he grabbed a pack of crackers and the pickle jar. She scoffed.

"If you were looking I'd flip you off so hard."

"Well I'm not. Resort to your worst, Maxi-pad."

"You. Did. Not."

She bust into laughter, and soon Y/N was bringing the wheezing girl her snack. She sat up, and Y/N sat next to her. Max dug into the snack, subconciously leaning her body against the older boy. Y/N grinned to himself.

"Hey Max, whenever you're done with your snack you should head home. Just swing by tomorrow for your clothes."

"M'kay. Thanks again."

"For such a little shit," Y/N muttered, playing with Max's ponytail, "You are really nice."

"I'm not."

"Are too."

"'m not!"

"Are too!"

Max laughed, wiggling around to get more comfy againt Y/N. He rolled his eyes, taking the remote and flicking through the channels. Max would head home soon, but for now, they were content existing with each other.

#platonic #stranger things #stranger things x male reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #writing #max mayfield #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield x male reader #comfort #fanfiction

241 notes · View notes

gwynrielsupremacist · 3 years

Text

TWISTER

suggested by: @imsointobooks

Read at AO3

Gwyn knew her friends were doing it on purpose.

She fucking knew it.

Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie had been friends since they'd seen each other in preschool. Since then, no one thought of those three separately, they were a formidable trio.

Her companions knew that if they attacked one, you attacked all three.

They had decided to go to self defense classes because, honestly, the world sucks and you have to be prepared for anything.

And everything had gone great, they had signed up for classes. The problem was when they came to those classes and saw their coaches.

Damn.

Coaches weren't supposed to be that fucking good.

The first classes had gone well, they had been more destined to know each other than to anything else.

The problem was that it was impossible to try to pay attention to the exercises if your coach was that hot.

There were two of them, Cassian and Azriel. Apparently, the two had been thrown out of theie house as soon as they turned 18, and the best they did was fight, so they started a self-defense class.

Gwyn thought she remembered being told they boxed.

Well, that explained how they could have so many muscles.

Nesta said they even had muscle in their muscles, which was greeted with a laugh from the three friends.

But Nesta was not wrong.

According to her, she and Cassian knew each other before, having met at a party and, according to Nesta, she was sure they had slept.

She didn't know when or where, but she was sure of it.

And they hadn't been slow to go back to bed. Specifically, it had taken two months to get into each other's bed.

Gwyn didn't care about that, in fact, she liked Cassian, and loved that her friend was happy with him.

The problem was when she saw Azriel.

She was sure that Azriel was not interested in her.

But, Gwyn was interested in him.

And she was afraid of being friendzoned.

They were friends, talking to him almost daily, seeing each other four times a week for self-defense classes, and sometimes he even had invited her out to have a drink, but nothing more.

She had been that way for almost a year and a half.

And honestly, Gwyn couldn't take it anymore.

That day, she was assured that she was going to propose to Azriel. She might invite him for a drink, or she might ask Nesta and Emerie to help her have a moment alone with him.

They had stayed at Cassian's apartment, which had become Nesta's part-time house, since she spent more time there than at hers. The five of them had decided to have a party, with a lot of food, a lot of laughter, and a lot of alcohol.

And as much as her friends cheered her on, she knew that she wasn't going to make any progress with Azriel.

They flirted quite a bit, yes. In the relationship they had, flirting and bantering was never lacking.

But Gwyn didn't know if they were joking or if he was really interested in her.

Although, that man was never going to be interested in her.

Those were Gwyn's thoughts as she got ready in Nesta's rented house, alongside Emerie, who was putting on a good deal of mascara and lipgloss.

"In the end you go with Mor after being with the boys?" Nesta asked Emerie, while putting on tight black pants and a crop top, accentuating her full, round breasts. Emerie said no, searching in the wardrobe a dress she could wear that night.

She wished she had that body. She did not like her own, she seemed completely undesirable, with so many freckles, so few curves ...

"Gwyn, if you're thinking again that you don't like your body, I swear I'll hit you with the 24-centimeter heels." Nesta threatened, holding some gorgeous black party heels in her hand.

"Are you going to wear those? You'll fall in the middle of the sidewalk… ”Gwyn advised, putting on some blue eyeshadow, accentuating her teal eyes, the only aspect of her features that she loved.

"No, I'm going to take these to give you the hell out of you if you keep thinking you're not pretty." Nesta protested, dropping her heels with a crash. She heard Emerie curse when her eyeliner moved from the bump of her heels. Emerie shot Nesta a nasty look as she reached for some make-up remover wipes and brushed off the hideous part of the eyeliner.

Gwyn avoided answering, getting up from the chair she had been sitting in for at least 15 minutes to go to the closet, opening it with a huff when she saw that she had nothing to wear.

"Do you want me to lend you my miniskirt? I think I have one that is too small for me, it may take you..." Emerie proposed, smiling when she felt satisfied with her eyeliner.

Gwyn denied, rummaging through the hangers until she found baggy jeans and a white blouse that revealed much of her collarbones and the curve of her breasts.

Glad, she undressed in the middle of the room, looking for the strap to adjust the jeans.

"Today are you going to say something to Azriel or are we going to return to the same vicious circle of 'Hello, I like you very much and it is obvious that you like me too, but since we are both assholes, we don't realize it?'"

"He doesn't like me. Also, he didn't like one of the girls in our college class? What was that girl's name ...? " Gwyn thought aloud, not remembering the name of that lucky girl who had gotten the attention of the handsome Azriel.

"The day he eats your mouth we are going to pretend to be surprised." Emerie mused, picking up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder, adjusting her gold dress snugly, ready to step out of it.

Gwyn rolled her eyes, but a spark of hope began to glow inside her.

Maybe today was the day ...

Arriving at Cassian and Azriel's loft, they stood waiting in the entryway, the cool summer air cooling their already sweaty bodies.

Suddenly she heard passing, the door opening and coming out Cassian, in a T-shirt and jeans.

Smiling, he gave Nesta a tender kiss on her lips, and then smiled at the other two.

Emerie and Gwyn smiled back at him, but the latter was a lot busier looking for the other trainer.

Cassian grinned: "Looking for something, Gwynnie, or someone?"

Gwyn snorted grumpily: "Azriel wasn't coming?"

Cassian nodded, letting the three girls enter the loft to close the door to possible bugs on the street: “He's finishing his shower. We had a much longer boxing session than usual. "

Gwyn hummed, looking around the great house they had.

In sight was the living room, two immense sofas separated by a table, the television placed on the wall, televising some soccer game.

Suddenly, Gwyn heard a door open, and Azriel came out, flushed from the heat of the bathroom, already dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants.

Making sure he didn't see her, she glanced over at him.

Hell, the shirt had stuck to his abs, giving her a very good view of what he had hidden there.

Gwyn shyly approached her coach, and when she was almost an inch from him, she gently touched his back, causing him to turn.

Az's face lit up at the sight of her: “Gwyn. I thought you weren't coming today."

Gwyn frowned, smiling: "Why wouldn't I come?"

Azriel led her into the living room, where Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie were already attacking the bowls of food that were on the head table to one side of the sofas.

“I thought Cassian had told me you had theater class. Apparently, I got it wrong. "

Gwyn nodded, almost drooling at how good all that food smelled and looked.

She grabbed an elongated bag with a foreign substance inside, and while she took a bite, she asked him, politely: "How are you doing your final college work?"

Azriel was a senior in veterinary college, and he had a final work to do on it.

Azriel sighed, earning a smile from Gwyn: “Fatal, I can't find any information anywhere and besides, I only have three weeks left to deliver it. Right now I should be upstairs, looking for information."

"I can help you find information, I am quite good at that aspect of doing work."

Azriel smiled at her, grateful, but she thought she saw, before he went to where his brother was, that the gaze had rested for a few seconds on her lips.

She quickly shook her head, dismissing that possibility. It must have been an optical effect. Yes, it must have been that.

She walked over to where everyone was, sitting next to Emerie and Cassian, Azriel finding himself in front of her.

"How are you doing your first year of university?" Cassian asked, eating a slice of vegetable pizza.

Nesta looked at him in disgust, grabbing a slice of pizza with extra cheese and barbecue sauce: "That pizza should be off-limits."

Cassian looked at her, disappointed: “This good one! Taste it.” He asked, bringing it closer to Nesta's mouth.

Nesta chewed it, made a disgusted face, and took a good bite out of her portion, while she chewed, saying, “This is good. Not that vegetable crap. Pizza is supposed to make you fat, not lose weight."

Emerie supported her, but decided to grab a burrito, passing one to Gwyn, which she gladly accepted.

And so it was for most of the night, talking and teasing each other, until the moment came when the food disappeared, leaving room for the bottles of alcohol.

Gwyn wasn't used to drink, so she got a shot of piña colada, one of the few licors she loved, while Nesta held a bottle of vodka caramel, which she shared with Emerie.

"We have to do something. It's still twelve o'clock and no one is sleepy, right? "

Everyone denied, even the black cat that had magically appeared in Azriel's arms.

Gwyn looked at him in shock, pointing, "Have you adopted a cat?"

Azriel nodded, stroking the feline: “He appeared at the veterinary clinic where I practice. They asked the students if anyone wanted to keep it and, well, I always wanted a pet so… I kept it. " He said, smiling.

Emerie asked to hold the cat, holding it carefully, while she stroked his head lovingly.

"Is beautiful. What's it called?"

"Black cat." Cassian replied, proud of himself, as he continued: “If I am going to allow a pet in my loft, at least it will be called what I want, so it is called 'Black cat'.

Gwyn looked at Azriel, confused and amused.

Azriel grinned, picking up the cat that Emerie offered him.

Gwyn looked at Nesta, discovering that she had disappeared at any moment.

She looked at Cassian, asking, "Where is Nesta?"

He looked up the stairs, frowning: "She said she was going to find a game to play together."

Gwyn made a sound of assent, suddenly watching her golden-brown hair flutter as she came down the stairs, a giant box in her arms.

Cassian cursed, leaping up to help her girlfriend get things down, while whispering something in Cassian's ear, both of them grinning mischievously.

The game couldn't be seen from that position, but she saw Azriel look dangerously at Cassian, who couldn't stop smirking.

When Nes put the box down, the name of the game came out.

Twister.

Emerie looked amused at her friend, while Gwyn glared at her.

Those two had ganged up on her.

Nesta took out the cloth from inside the box, as well as the little wheel with the different colors and positions in it.

Emerie got up, dragging Gwyn, whom she no longer found the game amusing.

“Emerie, Cassian, Gwyn and Azriel, you guys play. I'll be the one spinning the wheel. " She announced as she dropped the fabric to the floor, smoothing it out.

Gwyn glanced at Nesta, promising imminent death, but she did nothing but laugh, kindly asking Gwyn to stand in her place.

"Okay, whoever falls loses." Nesta warned, supervising everyone to get in their places.

Satisfied, she began spinning the roulette wheel.

"Cassian, right hand in red."

Cassian made a rather pathetic attempt to get to the red, deciding to go down when it was obvious he was failing at purpose.

"Cassian, disqualified!" Nesta yelled with a mischievous smile.

To which Cassian replied, shrugging his shoulders: "Wow, I'm really bad at these things." He mocked up, sitting next to his girlfriend.

Nesta turned the roulette wheel again.

"Emerie, right foot in yellow."

Emerie did.

"Gwyn. Left hand in red. " Gwyn could be pretty sure she hadn't moved the spinner, but she let her be, putting her hand up.

Cassian spun the wheel: "Az, right hand in green."

And so they continued, until Emerie lost, crashing down on top of Gwyn.

It was all laughter until Gwyn and Azriel were left alone.

And, although Gwyn thought she would be fucking uncomfortable, her instinct urged her to fight, she couldn't let that man win.

So she played, the flexibility helping her in many moments.

Until her winning instinct faded, realizing what position she and Azriel were in.

Gwyn had both hands extended, while her feet were together, but she had Azriel down, and she knew her breasts were fucking close to his face.

And the bastard laughed.

She looked at him, enraged and embarrassed.

She felt a wave of pleasure run through her body when he winked at her.

"Hiii, Earth calling Gwyn, left foot to green." Nesta mocked, grinning.

Getting into a much more comfortable posture, she moved, her lips forming a mocking smile, a good 12 inches away from Azriel.

"Azriel, right hand to yellow."

Azriel ran his hand from green to yellow, staying quite close to her left foot.

Looking defiantly at Azriel, she made the next four or five moves, she wasn't sure.

Of course, she couldn't be sure since Azriel, in some way she couldn't understand, was underneath her, while Gwyn was straddling his hips.

Azriel grinned, listening carefully to the next position.

"Azriel, right foot to blue."

He had smirked, while she tilted her head, not understanding what the hell had made to smile like that, until, when he was lifting his foot, he raised his pelvis minimally, making his crotch crash against the parts more intimate of her.

She almost felt faint as that prominent bulge passed through her core, teasing.

Looking at Azriel with a strong blush on her features, she heard Nesta's next command.

"Gwyn, left hand to red."

Gwyn swore she had heard a chuckle as she said that.

Fuck.

She couldn't believe that she had to put that fucking hand in that fucking color.

Stretching out as far as she could, she placed her hand on the blue panel, but she had a serious little problem with that position.

Now her breasts were, no doubt, practically on top of Azriel's face.

And, although Azriel wore a somewhat embarrassed grin, it was suppressed by the bright eyes of mockery and pleasure.

She knew her own eyes must be that way.

"Azriel, left hand to green." Emerie laughed.

Those little bastards were going to pay for it.

As soon as she took care of the overwhelming lust and pleasure she felt in those moments, her clit pulsing dangerously close to his cock, they'll pay for it.

Azriel waved his hand, and suddenly both mouths were less than an inch apart.

Their breaths were paralyzed at that very moment.

Damn, what lips the very asshole had.

They were red from having licked them so much during the night.

They seemed to share thoughts right then and there as Azriel lowered his gaze from her eyes to her lips, licking his slowly.

Her core tightened, noticing how her panties got soaked little by little.

Gwyn, feeling daring, lowered her eyes to his lips, biting her bottom lip.

What tension. She was using all of her damn self-control not to kiss him, at least not in front of all of them.

Gwyn frowned suddenly, suspicious of those three.

Turning quickly, she watched as Emerie ate popcorn from a bucket, while Nesta and Cassian appeared to be enjoying a romantic comedy.

Hint: the rom-com was Azriel and her.

In addition, the roulette that it decided where to put each person's hands and legs was nowhere to be found.

Realizing her terrible deception, she jumped up from Azriel's lap, pointing her finger at Nesta: "You little son of a bitch! You weren't using the roulette wheel!"

Laughing slightly, Emerie replied, "She hasn't used it since I've stopped playing." She scooped a bunch of popcorn into her mouth before handing the bucket to Nesta.

Gwyn stared at her incredulously, Nesta saying, smirking: I thought you'd find out sooner."

At the same time, she felt betrayed and grateful.

Well, she had discovered that Azriel wanted her. At least it was something.

She noticed how Azriel approached her silently, and she would have expected him to place beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he normally did with her, or saying something to ease the sexual tension that had been there.

However, he got dangerously close to her earlobe, licking it with the tip of his tongue and then tugging at it, whispering seductively, "Are you ready for round 2?"

TAG LIST (tell me if you want to be tagged/removed): @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel @hlizr50 @meher-sumedha @heyovivi @positivewitch @greywarens-magician @sageofthegalaxy @valkygwyn @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @snickerdoodlechittybangbang @genya-berdara @katekatpattywack @ddsworldofbooks @secretlovelybeauty @starbornsinger

#gwynriel #gwynriel oneshot #a prompt? maybe #part 2? maybe 😋#azriel #gwyn #valkyrie #acosf

97 notes · View notes

themaribatpit · 3 years

Text

Jasonette July Day 1: Suit Up

EDIT: Written by The Maribat Pit Content warning: Swearing, there is a quote that is a reference to Titans!Jason, references to Chloe’s actions in “Battle of the Miraculous”. Rated: T Inspired by: that one Tumblr post that suggested what would happen if Jason used a Lucky Charm. Prompt: Suit Up The kidnappers had Marinette, and Jason knew that desperate times called for desperate measures. Marinette hadn’t returned home from her mission the night before, Plagg returned that morning without her. He explained that Marinette had managed to free most of the kidnapped kids, but she was captured shortly after being depowered. They assumed she was one of the kids that hadn’t managed to escape.

Jason went from slightly worried to absolutely frantic. Roy was still in rehab, and there was no time to call in the Bat clan for help, it was up to him. In his mind, the more time they wasted, the closer she came to sharing his fate. “Great, just fucking fantastic”, he muttered to himself “the bad guys have the girl you love and you’re here looking for her jewelry”. If he went in guns blazing as the Red Hood, they would probably just kill her instantly and without a second thought. That being said, she would probably kill him later for tearing through the apartment like this. He was flipping the bed on its side, opening all the drawers and pulling out all of the contents. He was trying to find the Chinese Miracle Box, thinking maybe someone in there would help him if it meant saving their Guardian. He remembered a conversation they had when his curiosity about her powers got the better of him.

“So what if you were to, hypothetically, use several of these things at once?” He remembered asking.

“I did once, the Multimouse clones were using different fusions. Wearing them all at once can be pretty draining, even the fusions can be pretty taxing at the best of times if I’m not careful” she explained.

She also explained what happened when her old classmate tried to put on various Miraculous at once and started demanding power from them. Suffice it to say she didn’t get her way. So, by the sound of things, Tikki was his best bet, or he’d probably end up pissing off the other ones like Chloe did.

He found the box in her closet and opened it, to find that Plagg’s ring was missing and so were Tikki’s earrings. He closed the box and pushed it back into the closet, before searching the room for the earrings. She had said something before about Plagg and Tikki being the least suspicious of him. Probably because their combined magic was what created the Lazarus pits, the very reason he wasn’t still six feet under. He finally noticed the small red and black box sitting on the chest of drawers, and he popped it open to find the earrings inside. He wasted no time putting the studs in one ear, before a pink ball of light appeared in front of him. The ball of light turned into Tikki who gave a little stretch and yawn before being startled to see Jason instead of Marinette in front of her. “Hey Tikki, sorry, no time to explain but Marinette’s in trouble” he spluttered, “please I need your help, I wouldn’t be asking otherwise”.

“If that’s true, then there’s no time to waste, let’s go!” Tikki exclaimed, “Just say the words and I’ll help you.” Jason’s mind suddenly drew a blank, as he tried to remember what words Marinette used to transform into Ladybug.

“Bug Prism Power Make Up?” he tried.

“He doesn’t know the magic words?” Plagg asked slyly, “our Guardian’s life is on the line and he doesn’t know the magic words”.

“I know that you’d make a nice chew toy for Brutus”, Jason snapped as he tried to think. “Go go Lucky Charm?” he tried, Tikki shook her head.

“Lucky charm usually comes a bit later” she rubbed the back of her head, “keep trying, if Marinette is in trouble, then she needs our help”.

“Okay let me think, uh…It’s Magic Time? Ladybug Up? In brightest day, in blackest night...?” He kept throwing out suggestions, but Tikki continued to shake her head. “Uh, Shazam?” he had to give that one a try at least once, Tikki sighed.

Tikki thought it was admirable watching him at least trying to figure it out, even if Plagg was no help at that moment. It was clear to the little Kwami, she didn’t need to look that hard to know that this boy cared deeply for Marinette, even if he was hesitant to admit it at first. Tikki remembered gently encouraging Marinette to confess her feelings towards him, while Roy and Jason’s brothers took a more…direct approach.

“All right Jason, I’ll tell you the magic words but first,” Tikki told him and they both heard the Kwami’s stomach growl, breaking the awkward silence in the room. Jason remembered why Marinette usually kept a cookie on hand whenever she brought Tikki along, while the faint smell of cheese usually meant Plagg was in tow instead.

“Come on, let’s go get you a cookie” Jason said, “and some cheese for you” he shot Plagg a slightly irritated look. As Jason looked around the kitchen, the only cookies and cheese they had were the cheap stuff. Tikki tried to be polite about the fact that the oreo wasn’t going to cut it, Plagg just turned up his little cat nose at the processed American cheese. “Sorry Tikki, Marinette’s been a bit busy lately,” he told her before rounding on Plagg “what’s your problem?”

“You don’t happen to have any camembert, do you?” he asked, still refusing to even look at the slice of processed cheese.

“Camembert? Who was your last user?” Jason asked incredulously. Desperate times were calling for even more desperate measures, “just hang in there Marinette,” he thought.

Jason wouldn’t be racing over to Wayne Manor if it wasn’t a dire emergency. Tikki was safely tucked away in his jacket pocket, while Plagg was clinging to the hem of his jacket as it billowed behind him. Jason brought his motorbike to a stop just outside the gates, before hopping off darting past Damian, petting a sleeping Alfred the cat in his lap. Right now, he was hoping Alfred the human was baking something that would catch the Kwami’s eye. Sadly, he was not, a note on the kitchen door explained he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Sadly, this couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He opened the kitchen door, the cookies from Alfred’s last batch were stored in a cookie jar on top of the fridge. There was one cookie left, he unzipped his pocket and gestured to the cookie in the jar. Jason reached up and grabbed the jar, before opening it and grabbing the cookie inside. He also reached into the fridge and grabbed the camembert for Plagg. With the Kwami munching on their snacks of choice, he dashed out of the kitchen. Plagg had practically inhaled the wheel of cheese all at once, and glided alongside him. Meanwhile, Tikki clung to the cookie with one hand and the hem of Jason’s pocket with the other.

That morning, Bruce was not expecting to see Jason rushing past him. He wasn’t expecting to see a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie threatening to fly out of his jacket pocket. “Hi, can’t talk now, Marinette needs help, bye.” He called before disappearing down the hallway. Jason dashed past Dick who had just woken up, and Tim was on his way to the kitchen for some more coffee.

“Was that the last cookie?” Dick asked, slightly groggily.

“Oh that had better not be the last cookie” Tim groaned, someone had better be dying if that was the case.

Jason rushed to his motorcycle, and slammed the gate shut behind him before hopping on and putting on his helmet. Tikki was halfway through munching on the cookie, when she gave him a quick rundown of the powers that she would be giving him. Jason knew that the Miraculous granted the user enhanced speed, strength and endurance, he just hadn’t thought there would come a day when he would have to use their power. It was probably for the best that their guardian didn’t choose him when he was 13, for reasons that a bunch of guards were about to find out very soon.

Meanwhile, Marinette found herself in a cage inside a warehouse. There were two men guarding the cage, neither of them knew that Marinette was the girl in the black leather catsuit. They caught her just as the clock had run out on her powers, and they assumed she was one of the kids that had been captured. She was a petite young woman, and they found her dressed in a polka dotted hoodie, shorts and tights. She sent Plagg to go get help, and he had been gone for a few hours now. She was getting increasingly antsy, Jason was probably worried sick about her.

Jason arrived at the suspected gang hideout as fast as could, leapt off his bike and grappled to a vantage point. “Ok, relatively small time trafficking racket. Now where is Pixie Pop?” Jason thought to himself, scanning the area from his vantage point. “Plagg, go find Marinette, and tell her to not transform until I arrive.” Plagg flew out of Jason’s pocket and made his way there. “Alright Tikki, what's the magic word?” The Kwami flew out of Jason’s pocket as he spoke, Tikki glided to Jason’s ear and whispered to him the phrase. Jason repeated “Spots On” and felt power coursing through his veins. It felt like Venom without the addictive or berserk tendencies, pure energy was flowing through him. He felt the uncontrollable urge to pose and move with the flow of energy, doing a flourish of kicks and punches. It ended with him raising his left leg to his head, as if it was a vertical split and slamming it down. “Owwwwwwwwwwww” Jason groaned, “My thighs were not meant to do that.” He was not expecting the compulsive flourishes for the transformation itself.

Jason looked at his reflection in a nearby puddle, he could see he was wearing a full spotted suit and domino mask like Ladybug, yet his leather jacket stayed during the transformation and received its own ladybug pattern. Jason sucked up the pain and pushed onwards to the gang hideout.

Jason snuck in through a vent and approached a large main room, housing most if not all of the guards and their “merchandise” with cages strewn across the room with mostly women and children locked up. He finally sees Marinette, alive but imprisoned in a cage with a few other people in a corner. Jason needed a distraction so that Marinette could transform into Lady Noire. He had to do something to take the attention off every single person in the room.

Jason sighed and thought of a plan, it may not be the most flattering, but it worked and it would not be so threatening as cutting out the lights. He burst from the air vents and landed in a crouch, standing straight and shouting “Halt Evildoers, it I...Red Bug?”

This indeed worked as planned, as every guard, goon and hostage set their eyes on the intruder. The guards began pointing and laughing, “Good, they don't think I’m a threat” thought Jason. The guards underestimating Red Bug was what he needed, so that they would not find him threatening or harm anyone just yet.

Marinette took this opportunity to transform into Lady Noire. She wasted no time and began with Cataclysm, bringing down all the cages and making her way to Jason’s position. Both Lady Noire and Red Bug began fighting the guards, buying the hostages time to make their escape. As the last person successfully escaped the gang hideout, both Lady Noire and Red Bug stood side by side. More of them began to trickle in as they heard the commotion and began to surround the pair.

Marinette needed to think fast, she didn't have much time left after casting Cataclysm. She said to her partner, “Lucky Charm, Now!” Red Bug raised his eyebrow, “Lucky Charm?” he repeated. He suddenly felt the same compulsion as he did during the transformation, his arm suddenly shot upward with the yo-yo spinning. He looked up to see a swarm of ladybugs converge to form...a purse? Red Bug caught the purse with a look of disbelief, Lady Noire looked around the room for a plan to use the purse. Lady Noire got a burst of inspiration and turned around to tell her partner of her cunning plan, only to be greeted by thin air. She was brought out of her stupor hearing her partner yell out “LIGHTS OUT BITCH!”. She whipped her head towards the source of the noise to see Red Bug beating the guards with the Ladybug-themed purse. “I guess that works too” she said to nobody in particular. Knowing she had little time remaining as Lady Noire, she started running for the exit. Red Bug had no issue dealing with the remaining goons. Marinette hadn’t expected Jason to suit up with one of the Miraculous, not that she was complaining. She had expected him to come charging in as the Red Hood, or maybe start by picking off the guards one-by-one. She was surprised, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one, mostly. Since leaving Chat Noir behind in Paris, the fight left her feeling oddly nostalgic. Sometimes she missed fighting alongside a Miraculous user, though Tikki might have something to say about his...unusual use of a Lucky Charm. She walked over to Jason’s parked motorcycle and waited. Within minutes Jason followed suit and walked out the front door of the hideout. A swirl of green light surrounded him as he changed back, and Tikki zoomed over towards Marinette. Tikki nuzzled against Marinette’s face for a moment, before Jason walked towards her. He pulled his girlfriend into a big hug, Marinette is left breathless for a moment as he nuzzles into her neck. He didn’t say anything, but neither of them really needed to say anything at that moment. Touched by how much Jason cared for her, Marinette returned the hug. She stayed in that warm embrace for a long moment, before reaching up and gently patting him on the head. “Let’s go home...Pixie Pop.” Jason pulled away at the mention of the nickname he gave her, and before she could react, Jason began pinching her cheeks. “What did you call me?” Jason jokingly interrogated, while Marinette giggled like an idiot. EXTRA: Jason is sitting next to Dick and Damian in the Wayne manor lounge with two ice packs on his thighs Jason: I don’t know how you do it Dickie, my thighs were not meant to do that. Dick (covers Damian’s ears): Soooo did you and Marinette…. Jason: I literally beat up some guys with a purse today, don’t push me.

#jasonette #jasonettejuly2021 #maribat

138 notes · View notes

blazingparker · 3 years

Text

I Could Be Your Love, But You Treat Me Like A Scandal

Chapter Seven is now up!

read it on ao3!

---

Tony woke to his blankets being pulled at, the warm weight in his arms shuffling around and jostling him far too much for his liking. Grumbling softly, he tightened his grip and pulled the squirming figure closer, smiling lazily when a soft laugh rang out in his bedroom.

“Tony, I have to go,” Peter whispered, and Tony cracked an eye open to look down at him. The sight he was met with was glorious - big brown doe eyes and tousled brown hair that looked like it might just be the softest thing on the planet.

“I’ll call Jameson, you’re not going anywhere,” Tony grumbled, pulling Peter closer.

After their rather...physical make-up, Peter had called Jameson to say he wasn’t feeling well and would work remotely for the rest of the day. Instead of actually doing that, though, he’d fallen into bed with Tony and hadn’t left it again.

“I think I’d rather have him walk in on us than have you call him to explain why I’m not going to be at work,” Peter said with another laugh. Tony’s face screwed up in disgust and he rolled Peter out of his arms, ignoring the indignant squawk the other man let out.

“That’s it, moment over. It’s done. You’ve ruined it,” he deadpanned, grabbing at the covers and dragging them over to his side. Surprisingly strong, Peter pulled them back so they were even and leaned in to give Tony a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he murmured, somewhat shy at using the pet name. Tony beamed at him, feeling his heart skip a beat at the verbal acknowledgement from the journalist that there was something between them, something special and romantic and deep that neither of them could explain but that both of them felt.

“Do you really have to go?” Tony asked, pouting ever so slightly. “Let’s make breakfast at the very least. I bet your commute to work is shorter from here, and it’s only-” Tony glanced at his phone. “-seven in the morning. We have plenty of time.”

“Hmm,” Peter hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. “Do you cook shirtless? That’s the Parker rule, you know. Shirtless cooking or I don’t stay for breakfast.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

---

After each of them had showered and dressed, the pair entered the kitchen together. Peter was borrowing one of Tony’s blazers to try and help hide the fact he was wearing yesterday’s clothes, which had somehow made their way into the laundry and were clean and fresh when he found them that morning. Tony had kept his promise, slipping on a pair of gray sweatpants and forgoing a shirt. Neither one was complaining about the view.

“So, what’s for breakfast, Chef Tony?” Peter asked as he perched gingerly on a bar stool at the kitchen island. Tony turned from where he was poking through the contents of his fridge, raising an eyebrow.

“What makes you think I’m cooking?” Tony snarked, and Peter fixed him with an unimpressed look.

“You railed my ass six ways from Sunday yesterday. I’m going to rest and you’re going to make me whatever it is you normally have for breakfast around here. It’s the least you can do, honestly.” Peter sniffed in mock arrogance, but cracked a smile as soon as he heard Tony’s laughter echoing through the kitchen.

“You’ve got a point, Parker. Prepare to be amazed by my omelettes.” Tony turned and grabbed a whole carton of eggs, as well as some cheese and a few fresh tomatoes. Peter watched, enraptured, as the man skillfully and quickly sliced the tomato and grated some of the cheese before preparing the frying pan. Cracking a few eggs into it, Tony hummed softly as he started making the first omelette.

Peter didn’t want to bring up the elephant in the room, but he knew he had to. Too much had happened yesterday for the two of them to just carry on ignoring each other and then releasing all the pent-up frustration in a sex marathon in the middle of Peter’s work day.

“So, what do we do now?” He asked softly, fiddling with the sleeve of Tony’s blazer. “I mean, we can’t exactly be public. At least not until we figure out the outcome of the race.” Tony sighed, shaking his head.

“As much as I’d love to argue that, you’re right. I won’t do anything to put your career in jeopardy.”

“Thank you,” Peter said sincerely. “I mean that. Not that I think you would, but you have enough ammunition now to totally wreck my life. I appreciate you telling me that you, y’know, won’t do that.” Tony laughed, but it was a much softer and diluted sound than before.

“I think our best bet is to keep this a secret for now, and revisit this conversation after the election. Once we know who won, we can make a plan. For now, there’s no use planning when it could all go to shit.” Peter nodded, agreeing with everything the billionaire was saying. “Your career and your integrity comes first.”

“Thank you,” Peter repeated. “You also need to keep your image as one of America’s most eligible bachelors - that’s definitely winning you some women’s votes. Maybe some men’s votes, too.”

“On that note,” Tony started, whirling around and pointing the spatula at the reporter in a way Peter thought was supposed to look threatening. “You’d better not go changing your tune now that you’ve had the absolute pleasure-”

“Oh my god.”

“-of sleeping with me. Got it? I won’t have Peter Parker changing his opinions just cause he thinks my dick is great.”

Groaning, Peter put his head in his hands. Tony laughed once more, turning back around and continuing to make the omelettes. Once both were made, the two men sat side-by-side and dug into their food.

“This is incredible, Tony. Seriously. First the hot chocolate and now this?” Peter said after swallowing his first bite, eagerly cutting himself another piece.

“I’m Tony Stark. I’m the best at everything I do,” Tony said with a shrug, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Except not fucking the people covering your campaign.”

“Touché.”

After breakfast, Tony insisted on walking Peter to the door like “a real gentleman,” since he obviously couldn’t accompany him down to the lobby and out to the street. That would raise far too much suspicion - Peter was already going to be hard-pressed to keep himself from being seen or recognized as it was. Add Tony Stark into the equation, and it was game over.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the voter town hall,” Peter murmured as he leaned up and gave Tony a soft kiss. “I promise not to be nice about you in the paper.”

“The cornerstone of any healthy relationship: destroying your significant other in a national newspaper,” Tony deadpanned, delighting in the laugh he got out of Peter. “I’ll see you then.”

Peter leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to Tony’s lips and lifting a hand to cup his cheek. Tony wrapped his arms around the shorter man and tugged him closer, almost lifting him off his feet before gently letting go.

“See you later, Tony.”

“Bye, Peter.” The two shared a soft smile, gazing into each other’s eyes until the elevator doors closed between them.

---

The next week passed by in a blur - of campaign events, shaking hands, press conferences, stolen kisses in the moments no one was around, and the two men sharing a bed on more than one occasion.

Peter could hardly believe it was just a week until the election. Even more so, he couldn’t believe he was writing his last feature on Tony’s Senate campaign. The media had agreed on halting any opinion or feature on any of the candidates in the week leading up to the election, giving voters a chance to do their research without scandalous headlines that the candidates had no time or chance to respond to.

Staring at his computer, Peter found himself struggling with what to write - a problem that hadn’t popped up as long as he’d been covering Tony. First, the words came easy, laced with disdain for a man clearly out of touch with the voters. Then, praise for his improvements came mixed with continuing critiques of his shortcomings. Now, he didn’t know quite how to wrap everything up.

Tony had come a long ways, sure, but Peter had his doubts about whether it would be enough to win him the seat. He’d entered too late, had too little time to connect with voters and get his message out there, and had fumbled through the first week - valuable time lost to stutters and deflections when he could have been already establishing strength and credibility.

It was with that realization of doubt that Peter found his headline.

Too Soon For Stark.

Short, sweet, and to the point. Tony had done a great job creating a platform, running a campaign, and connecting with the people of New York. But he had a timing problem, something that could only be fixed by running for Senate properly in the future. Peter began to write all of those thoughts, emphasizing it wasn’t that he didn’t think Tony was completely in over his head, but rather that it was a good idea at the wrong time.

Tony Stark started his campaign by blatantly flirting with any reporter that dared ask him a serious question. Six weeks later, he’s proven to be a formidable opponent for the Democrat and Republican nominees, with poll numbers steadily creeping upwards and increasing numbers at his events.

What Stark suffers from is a lack of preparation and a lack of time. With a properly-run Senate campaign, he might stand a chance when the next seat is up for grabs. However, combine barely a month and a half to put everything together with the fact that Stark’s name won’t even appear on the ballots New Yorkers receive next week, and the recipe for loss seems clear.

Peter continued to work on the article, the endeavor taking up his entire morning. When it was finally ready to be published around lunch, Jameson strode over to his desk.

“How’s that last article coming?” He asked, perching on the edge of Peter’s desk like he always did. Wordlessly, the journalist turned the monitor so his boss could read it for himself, relaxing slightly in his chair as Jameson nodded along and muttered words of agreement under his breath.

“Looks great. Let’s get that up on the website now, and then I want you to head on over to Stark Industries with Ned for the last press conference he’s doing. I want to get a review of it out online before the embargo sets in.”

“Sounds good,” Peter agreed with a nod, waiting for Jameson to walk away before turning his monitor around to face him again and publishing the article to the website. It immediately started to garner attention, and he felt a flash of pride as he watched his article, his words, get picked up and shared by people from around the world.

“Ready to head out?” Peter looked up to see Ned eagerly waiting to leave, camera firmly in hand.

“Let’s do it,” he said, grinning back at his friend and grabbing his bag before heading for the doors.

---

When they arrived at Stark Industries, Peter and Ned were instructed to head to the room they’d been using for all the press conferences and for giving statements. A fair amount of the press pool was already there, setting up cameras and recording devices in preparation for the event. Ned and Peter went to their usual spot in one of the middle rows, towards the right of the room. It was a great angle for Ned’s photos, and allowed for Tony to make eye contact with Peter quite frequently under the guise of sweeping his gaze across the room.

“I can’t believe this is the last press conference we’re doing together,” Ned remarked as he fiddled with his camera. Peter shrugged, taking out his phone and opening up Twitter.

“It won’t be the last one, bud. Maybe the last one here, but I’m sure Jameson will have us suiting up and heading out together again sooner rather than later.”

“I hope so. I love getting out of the office and getting to take real pictures. Betty over in HR said she really liked the one I got of Stark laughing with the kid.”

“That’s awesome, dude!” Peter said, looking up from his phone to smile at his friend. Ned had had a huge crush on Betty for the longest time, so he was thrilled to hear his friend was making some progress.

“Thanks. It was a pretty big confidence boost,” Ned bragged. Peter snorted and looked back down, heart stopping as he read what was rapidly becoming the number one trending item in the world.

EXPOSED: Stark Hooking Up With Pulitzer Parker?

The headline was accompanied by a picture that made it all too obvious what was going on. Tony and Peter were headed for the elevator, Tony’s hand on his ass and their lips mere inches apart. Against his better judgment, Peter clicked the link and began to read.

Peter Parker, darling of the New York Times and youngest-ever Pulitzer prize winner, was seen recently making out with Tony Stark. A source provided us with these photos, as well as some of Parker leaving Stark Industries the next morning. The two haven’t been photographed together since then. It’s safe to say journalistic integrity is officially dead, and here’s the proof.

Parker published a scathing critique of Stark’s campaign a mere hour ago, which has us wondering: is he legit, or did Stark just never give him a call back?

Phones began chiming all over the room, each sound feeling like the nail in the coffin of Peter’s career. He began to tremble, shoving his phone into his pocket before he dropped it from shaky hands.

“Oh my god,” Ned echoed, staring at the news alert on his own phone.

“I have to get out of here,” Peter blurted out. He was suffocating - everyone was too close, the walls were closing in. He could practically hear Jameson firing him, screaming at him in front of the whole office. Tony wouldn’t want to see him - his Senate campaign was fucked. All because of Peter.

The journalist stood up from his seat and bolted out of the room.

---

Two floors up, Tony’s phone began chiming with the rest of the press pool, though he didn’t know it. His face paled and he began to shake with rage as he took in the headline and the photo.

“Fuck!” Tony yelled, standing up from his desk and running to the elevator. He had to see Peter. When the elevator didn’t arrive quite fast enough, he made a beeline for the stairs, throwing the door open and rushing down them as fast as he could. He knew Peter was likely in the building already, and would be seeing this along with everyone else. Tony had to get to him before anything bad happened, before accusations were hurled around and the poor journalist found himself at the center of a media frenzy.

Part of Tony wondered if he was going to be too late anyway, but he knew he had to try.

Once he reached the correct floor, he flung the door open and ran to the press room. As soon as he entered, cameras started flashing and people started screaming questions at him.

“Mr. Stark, is it true you had an affair with Peter Parker?”

“Does he have valid concerns about you, or is he bitter that you ghosted him?”

“Is Parker good in bed?”

Tony ignored all the questions, looking around the room frantically for Peter. His eyes finally found the boy Peter always came with, who subtly shook his head.

Peter was gone.

Rushing out of the room, Tony ran down to the lobby as fast as he could. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a familiar figure rushing for the doors.

“Peter!” He yelled out, ignoring the few people who were present in the room. Peter skidded to a stop, looking back. Tony’s heart broke a little more when he saw the tears streaming down his face.

“Did you have a good time playing me again?” Peter asked, voice hoarse as he turned to face Tony. “Was it fun, playing with my emotions and making me look like an emotional idiot to the entire world?”

“What are you talking about?” Tony asked, taking a few steps to get closer.

“I know you leaked the pictures. Come on. I publish my last article about you, critiquing your run and saying you’re going to lose, and then magically photos of the two of us come to light that make everyone question whether or not I’m legitimate?” Tony winced. It did look bad.

“I know it looks like I leaked that, but I swear to you that I didn’t,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Peter. I know how important your career is, and I haven’t forgotten the talk we had.”

Peter blinked, looking like he wanted to believe him but unsure if he could. Tony couldn’t blame him - the evidence was damning and stacked against him.

“Swear to me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t do this,” he said, tone almost pleading. Tony gazed directly into Peter’s eyes, never breaking eye contact.

“Peter, I swear to you on my life that I had nothing to do with that article. I’m so sorry this is happening,” he said sincerely, voice never wavering. Peter sniffled, taking a few steps closer and allowing Tony to pull him into a hug. The contact was brief and had barely begun when the younger man pulled away again.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

“What? No. Stay,” Tony pleaded, grabbing onto his hands.

“I can’t. I have to go talk with Jameson, and you need me to stay far, far away from you if you want to have any chance of salvaging the campaign.” Peter looked down at his shoes.

“Fuck the campaign,” Tony said immediately. “Just-just stay. Please.” His heart cracked open a little more when Peter shook his head and pulled away, just out of reach.

“I can’t, Tony. This has to end if we’re both going to come out on the other side of this with minimal damage. I can’t be with you and fix my reputation.”

“Why can’t you?” Tony argued. “That’s what people in relationships do. They tackle problems together. We can handle this. Let me help you. Peter, please.”

Peter stood still, glancing backwards at the doors. When he looked back, he found Tony holding out an outstretched hand.

The journalist knew he had two choices. He could take the hand, accept Tony’s help, and try to fix everything with the man who’d helped him break it in the first place. Or, he could pull away, fix it on his own and allow Tony to salvage his campaign, but potentially lose the man who’d finally made him feel something.

In that moment, Peter didn’t know what to choose.

#blazingparker writes #starker #starker fic #peter parker x tony stark

20 notes · View notes

heartbreakgrill · 4 years

Note

hi bb! could I get a cute zach x reader fic? you can take this in whichever way you like but I was thinking some fluff like a movie night at Zach's or he teaches the reader to play video games? you can do it either way/come up with something of your own too! xxx

Slow Down; Zach Herron

a/n: hope you like it, queen!! 💘

You knocked gently on your boyfriend’s front door, feeling insecure in your leggings, your sweatshirt, and sneakers. You’d been to the boy’s house before, but this was still only your second time, and you’d never dressed so casually in front of Zach. Your relationship was still fresh- only 8 dates had happened so far- so you were still holding back parts of yourself you were afraid of him seeing. The lazy, messy part of you that some guys were turned off by.

You wrung the sleeve of your sweatshirt between your fingers. The door opened a moment after you knocked, drawing your eyes from your feet. Jonah, tall as a tree, stared down at you, a sleepy smile growing to his dark features.

“Hey, Y/N, good to see you.” Jonah swept an arm through the air and you walked into it’s path.

The house was noisy, as per usual. Lights were on all over, Corbyn and Jack were shouting over the shooting noises of a video game on the tv, music was streaming from the Bluetooth speakers, Tessa sat at the kitchen island. Daniel was probably out in his studio, and his brothers were strewn around the living room, watching Corbyn and Jack beat each other.

You felt so out of place in the group’s familiar Friday routine. Jonah could tell, harboring the same feeling of social anxiety, and gently touched your elbow.

“I’ll go get him, okay?” You’d been in Zach’s room, he must’ve not have been in there, because Jonah walked outside after you nodded.

You busied yourself with removing your sneakers. You squatted and gently set them beside somebody else’s shoes on the rack. You peaked around at the door and shut it all the way. Somebody finally spoke up when you turned back around.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Come sit,” Corbyn patted the spot next to him on the couch.

“Shit, sorry, we just completely ignored your existence,” Jack added on, laughing into his headset.

“No worries,” you smiled at everybody, carefully stepping over Christian’s legs to sit next to Corbyn.

“How ya doing, Y/N?” Corbyn glanced at you.

You folded your hands. “I’m okay, thanks. How are you?”

Corbyn went to answer when something happened in the video game and everybody yelled. That’s when you noticed Zach making his way across the room. He pushed Christian’s legs out of the way, earning a playful punch to the thigh. You stood up as he did, giggling at the laughter the two boys exchanged.

Zach threw his arms up when he laughed, one of his cutesy quirks that you had learned yet. His hands landed on you- shoulder and hip. He gently pulled you into his chest, your hands moving to his back.

“Hey,” he laughed in your ear, fingers moving to your back, but landing on your mini backpack.

“Hi,” you leaned away. His fingers slid down your shoulder and gently held your fingers.

He tugged you behind him, guiding the two of you to his room. “Sorry I didn’t answer the door. Daniel was having me record something.”

You shrugged, “No worries. I got a warm welcome from everybody.”

Zach sighed, letting go of you to shut the door. You sat on the edge of his bed. He said, “Yeah, they can be overwhelming at first.”

“No!” You disagreed. “They’re all really great. I like the energy.”

Zach smiled at you as he walked over to you. “You look very cuddly.”

Your anxiety settled in your subconscious, no longer a part of your worries. Instead, a blush painted your face. “We have never cuddled before.”

Zach sat beside you, setting a hand on your knee. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I want to,” you assured him, grabbing said hand and squeezing the knuckles. “I know you’re probably used to moving a little faster, but I’m just nervous. I’m sorry.”

Zach shook his head, carefully studying your eyes. He brushed the hair from your face, behind your ears, “I think I need to slow down anyways. With my career and looking back on my past relationships, I think it’ll keep me grounded. You’ll keep me grounded.”

Your stomach whirled with adoration. You found yourself leaning forward and kissing him. It wasn’t your first kiss- actually, it was your second. But it felt like the first. You hoped that feeling would stay.

Zach cupped your cheek, thumb just barely pushing your chin up into him. Your hands found his jaw, fingers molding between his hair. You kissed for a moment longer, and intended to keep going, but someone knocked at the door.

You jumped back from Zach, laughing from your naive fright at the sound. Zach pecked your lips and went to the door.

“Hello?” He opened it towards him, leaning against the door frame.

That was hot.

Jack waved from his side of the door. “Can y’all go pick up the pizza?”

Zach rolled his eyes, huffing. “Really? There’s, like, 10 other people here. Why can’t they?”

“Thought maybe you wanted alone time with your girl,” Jack shrugged. “Also, Jonah and Tessa just left, Daniel is busy, the rest of us are playing a game. Please?”

Zach obviously wasn’t going to argue with his band mate in front of his girl, as jack had put it. So he agreed.

Zach went to the closet as you waited on the bed, picking out a hoodie. He slung it over his head and sat beside you again to put on his shoes. As he did, you told him about something you did earlier that day. He was a good listener and conversation came so well between you two.

Zach stood up, offering you his hand. He pulled you up, purposefully tugging you close to his chest. He held you by the back and kissed you again. You giggled into his mouth, feeling his fingers squirm against your sweatshirt. He pulled away, to your disappointment, and looked at your sweatshirt with furrowed brows.

“No, this won’t do,” he tugged at the hem of your sweatshirt.

You looked at him with utter confusion, “Huh?”

He walked back to his closet, voice echoing from inside. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you gotta wear my sweatshirt.”

He settled back in front of you, holding out the hoodie.

You carefully grabbed it. “Is that you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Zach tipped his head at the sweatshirt, “Is that you saying yes?”

You answered by taking off what you had on and replacing it with a hoodie that the The Invitation Tour logo on it. You followed Zach out the living room again and sat down on the floor to put on your sneakers while he found his keys. He helped you off the floor, like in his room, and led you to the garage.

He opened your door for you like a gentleman, passing by with a sweet kiss. You let out a deep breath once you were settled in the seat, feeling a weight of emotions in your stomach.

Zach got in and then you guys were gone. The pizza place was ten minutes away, but they didn’t offer delivery because of COVID. And, of course, you forgot your mask. Zach just shrugged it off while you felt bad he carried two pizzas and a bag of 2 liters to the car. He put it all in the back seat before joining you again.

On the way back, Zach told you to put on music. Meanwhile, his hand sneakily found it’s way to your knee. He didn’t want to automatically place it upon your thigh, genuinely meaning what he had said earlier.

You wrapped your hand around his, letting your intertwined fingers rest in your lap. When you got back to the house, Zach didn’t allow you to carry anything again. As soon as the pizzas hit the kitchen counter, the boys went ravenous. Even Daniel appeared from his cave to get food.

You stood off to the side, feeling rude just diving in. Corbyn noticed you and automatically spoke up over the crowd of men.

“Hey! Guys, we should probably let Y/N go first,” he motioned to you.

Your face flushed and you felt your neck started to clam up. “Oh, I’m okay.”

Zach, who was caught up getting cups for everyone, sighed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told them to wait.”

“No, it’s no worries, guys. Please, go ahead,” you insisted again.

Daniel shook his head and handed you a plate, “No, Y/N, go ahead.”

You carefully took it and joined the hoard at the island. You took a single slice of cheese pizza and circled back to your spot.

Christian disagreed with your sad plate, “Oh, cmon. Get another slice, and some chips and a drink.”

You began to protest when they all spoke over each other, insisting. Daniel slapped another slice onto your plate, Corbyn held up two bags of chips in your face, and Zach had already poured your favorite soda into a glass. You tapped on the Dorito’s in Corbyn’s right hand and he poured some on your plate.

You had a restless, wide grin on your face the entire time. “Thank you so much.”

Everybody went back to being savages. Zach quickly got in and got out, leading you back to his room. He crawled across the bed and leaned back on his headboard. You carefully sat beside him as he turned on the television.

“You wanna watch that movie you told me about the other day?” He held out the remote to you.

Your mouth fell agape for a moment and then you nodded. “Yeah- uh, yeah.”

How was he such a good listener?

You found the movie on Netflix and put it on. Zach finished his food quickly, but you ate carefully and slowly. Zach simply layed out on the bed, waiting for you to finish. Once you were done, you stood up from the bed.

Zach paused the movie, “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wanna give me your plate?” You held out your hand.

Zach jumped up suddenly, grabbing his plate and yours before walking out.. You caught up to his long-legged strides with protests.

“Zach!” You called after him, tugging on the back of his sweatshirt.

He finally turned around after he set everything in the sink. “Yes?”

You tried to glare at him, but his smile was so sweet, you broke into a grin. “I was gonna take them!”

Zach shrugged. “I got it, babe.”

You lifted a finger to point in his face, but froze when the pet name registered. Your face went red again.

Zach’s innocent smile turned even cheekier- if possible. He kissed your cheek and left you standing there. You followed him to his room, stopping him in the middle of the hallway. You tugged him around to face him, practically launching yourself into his arms as you cupped his jaw and kissed him. He held the curve of your back, leaning into the kiss.

You broke off, breathless, with matching smiles. “Wanna finish the movie?” You jerked your head in the direction of his room.

Zach nodded in a less than calm manner and followed you inside. He shut the door, splaying back in his spot on the bed. You carefully lay beside him, resting your head on his bicep, which he extended out beside him. His hand clasped around your shoulder and tugged you into his side. You got comfortable over the span of a few minutes, at first slightly stiff. When you were in position, your leg was tossed over his, your hands on his chest.

The movie ended and you began another before your breathing evened and your eyes couldn’t keep themselves open. Zach noticed and carefully shut off the lights and tv with the remote. He pulled the blanket at the end of the bed over you.

“Want me to take you home?” He whispered into your ear.

You hummed a disagreement back, curling further into him. “Is that okay?” You sleepily said.

Zach responded by kissing your forehead and mumbling a goodnight.

#why don’t we imagines #why don’t we x y/n #why don’t we fluff #why don’t we x reader #why don’t we imagine #why don’t we #wdw zach #zach herron #zach herron x reader #zach herron imagines #Zach Herron imagine #Zach Herron fluff #Zach Herron x y/n #Zach Herron x you

206 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

A Very Hexley Birthday

A/N: Seeing all those beautiful edits on my dash for the birthday of my favourite twins in the Potterverse (I said what I said), I knew I couldn't possibly do any better. So instead, let's have a look what Ethel and Jim are up to on their birthday, shall we?

This is for you, Bestie! @the-al-chemist

Happy Birthday, Jim and Ethel! 💛❤️

Naturally, Ethel and Jim Hexley and Héloïse Perrault belong to my favourite person in this world @the-al-chemist. The attending guests belong to @slytherindisaster (Lysander Mercury), @kc-and-oc (Siobhan Llewellyn, Bradford Pendleton, Oliver and Eliot Gerard, Ivy Anders), @hogwartsmysteryho (Vinny Raymond), @that-scouse-wizard (Cledwyn Ironwood), @cursebreakerfarrier (Galen Stagg), and @unfortunate-arrow (Anthony Rosen).

Even though the golden arrows of the September sun were showing themselves on the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Jeremiah Hexley was in a rather glum mood when he reached for the huge bowl of porridge at the Hufflepuff House table.

It was just out of his reach and his fingertips only grazed the rim; he simply would have needed to stand up to get it, but that would only draw attention to the tall, lankish boy, which was something he generally tried to avoid, but especially so today. So Jim sat straight again and reached for a slice of toast instead.

“I wish you the finest of mornings,” he heard a voice call out to him, “isn’t it a wonderful day outside? You should have seen the colours of the sunrise; no one can paint anything as beautiful as that.”

The voice belonged to Lysander Mercury, another Hufflepuff boy from his year, and undoubtedly Jim’s best friend. He had a spring in his step as he walked up to Jim, and his thumbs were hooked under the straps of his suspenders; he hadn’t bothered putting the black jumper of their school uniform over them yet.

He sat down opposite Jim with a graceful motion, grabbing the porridge bowl in the same instance and pushing it over to Jim. Giving Lysander a grateful look, Jim helped himself to a healthy portion and drizzled a teaspoon full of dark golden honey on top, just the way he liked it. But even the prospect of his favourite breakfast wasn’t enough to lighten Jim’s mood, and it wasn’t lost on Lysander.

“Why such a long face, old fellow?” he grinned, and his stress on the word ‘old’ wasn’t lost on Jim, quite the contrary. “It’s not a day to be brooding!”

Jim opened his mouth to explain himself, but was interrupted by the sound of quick footsteps approaching from behind him; a moment later two pairs of arms were flung around his neck and Jim almost knocked over his bowl of porridge in his attempt to not be thrown off the bench.

“Happy Birthday, Jim!” two girls shouted into his ears in perfect unison, of course they did. The sound of their excitement cut through Jim’s eardrums and he winced as he pushed them away.

“Uhm, thank you,” he muttered, “Happy Birthday to you as well,” he said in the direction of the smaller of the two.

Ethel Hexley, his twin sister and complete opposite and in every aspect imaginable, grinned and clapped Jim on his back so hard he almost lurched forward. “Thanks, kiddo. One more year of making sure my little brother has at least some fun in his life.”

“Like a proper big sister should,” her best friend Selene Fraser added with a knowing nod. Not even the Sorting Hat had been able to separate these two, and sometimes Jim wondered who out of them three actually were the twin siblings.

“But, er, you know Effy’s only older by a few minutes... so she isn’t really my big sister, if you want to put it that way…”

Jim trailed off when he saw something whisk past him into the direction of the porridge bowl. Before he had the chance to dive straight into it though, Lysander had already gotten hold of the brown and white ferret Ethel and Selene shared custody of; Alan’s nose twitched as Lysander held him out to Ethel.

“Take your ferret back, Hexley,” he said, “I’d say you two are looking like the actual twins here, but seeing as it’s unfortunately your birthday as well, I’ll let it pass. Consider this my present.”

“Seeing as Alan definitely is the best looking guy I’ve spoken to today, I’ll take that as a compliment, Mercury,” Ethel immediately shot back, with that unmistakable glint in her eyes that Jim knew promised nothing but bother, very wordy bother.

Lysander had already leaned slightly forward as well, his eyes fixed on Jim’s twin sister, ready for their morning round of bickering and Jim sighed.

“Could you two, uhm… maybe, just maybe… perhaps stop it? Just for today?”

“Leave him, Effy, he’s not worth it. Not a match for you anyway,” Selene muttered to her best friend; Jim gave her a grateful look.

“True, Sels, I won’t have my birthday spoiled by a wanna-be artist in suspenders,” Ethel said indignantly, and Lysander opened his mouth in protest. Selene elbowed Ethel into the side, before setting Alan onto her shoulder and linking arms with her, quickly pulling her away before things would escalate. Again.

Selene turned around after a few steps and called over her shoulder. “Come to the Quidditch pitch after classes, Jim, will you? We have a little surprise for you!”

Throughout the whole day, Jim wasn’t sure what made him more uncomfortable: all the attention he got because it was his birthday, or the prospect of a surprise set up for him by Ethel and Selene. The sheer idea of everything these two could have been planning was enough to upset Jim’s stomach and he couldn’t even enjoy his favourite roast beef for lunch.

When their last class of the day was over, Jim reluctantly made his may over to the Quidditch pitch, as he had been told to. He had wanted to ask Lysander to come, but then again, bringing Ethel and Lysander into the same space was too much for him today; or any day, to be precise.

As soon as he stepped through the opening in the wooden perimeter of the pitch, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Ethel and Selene had laid out several red and white chequered picnic blankets in the middle of the immaculate green lawn, just like the ones their parents had at home. He could see baskets full of sandwiches, little cakes, fruit and cheese on every single one of them, alongside countless jugs of pumpkin juice.

Naturally, Ethel and Selene were standing in the midst of the people already gathered there, laughing and joking and having a wonderful time, and Jim’s heart sank a little. He saw many familiar faces; he saw Siobhan Llewellyn and her best friend Galen Stagg, who were feeding slices of roast beef to a very content looking Alan; he saw Oliver Gerard who was laughing with Ethel about a lively story she was telling; he had brought his brother, Eliot, a Ravenclaw boy Jim didn’t really know, and who was looking very comfortable talking to Selene, who was standing next to Ivy Anders and Vinny Raymond were sharing some cake; he could even spy the eternally grumpy Cledwyn Ironwood, who never got tired of proclaiming he wasn’t Ethel’s friend but, just like Jim, had obviously stood no chance in declining the invitation.

All of these people were there, but all of them were Ethel’s friends, not his. Jim sighed; he knew Ethel and Selene had meant well, but they just didn’t understand him, they never really did.

“I ‘ope we aren’t late, non?”

Upon hearing the familiar French accent, Jim’s heart skipped a beat before beating doubly as fast as before. He turned around and his eyes went wide when he saw the group of people who had quietly come up behind him.

“Bon anniversaire, Jim!” Héloïse swept in and quickly kissed him on both cheeks in close succession, before pushing an immaculately wrapped gift into his hands, the edges of the paper sharp and the bow perfectly tied. Jim tried to thank her but his words came out as a horrible stutter and he felt the heat rise to his face; it felt particularly warm where Héloïse had kissed him.

Next up came his dear friend Bradford, who shared his enthusiasm for painting; he extended his hand to Jim to wish him a happy birthday as well, and the gift he was handing over to him felt suspiciously like the elaborate sketchbook Jim had seen on his last trip to Hogsmeade.

His roommate Anthony was there, too, as always accompanied by his wolfhound Conall. Jim bent down to pet the animal and scratch his ears. He had to smile when he saw how enthusiastic Conall was at the prospect of all the attention; at least one of them was, then.

Even Lysander had been invited, or had in any case decided to show up; you never knew with Ethel and him. But whether he had actually been asked to be here or not, Jim was glad to see him.

By Brady’s side, more quiet than the rest, stood Brady’s friend - or at least that’s what they claimed to be - Carolyn Nyberg. Jim was surprised to see her here; he and Carolyn didn’t really have anything in common but Brady, but then again, they were seldomly seen without each other these days. She inclined her head and quietly congratulated him.

The question as to why Carolyn had come, though, was quickly answered when Ethel spotted the new arrivals and bounded over to them. “It’s so good you came! I’m so happy all of you could make it to our birthday picnic. Most of you, that is,” she said with a pointed look in Lysander’s direction, but before he could shoot back, her attention had already shifted to Carolyn.

“Did you manage to make what we talked about?”

Jim could see Carolyn was trying hard not to roll her eyes. “Please, who do you take me for? That was a child’s play.”

Brady gave her a pointed look. “Be nice, Caro, it’s their birthday.”

She sighed, but her face softened and she reached into the hidden pocket in her dress, producing a small, stoppered vial with purple liquid inside. She weighed it in her hands, looking at the mugs of pumpkin juice on the picnic blankets. “I’d say six drops per mug should be sufficient.” She moved the vial out of Ethel’s reach when she extended her hand towards it. “Not one drop more, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

Jim’s apprehension about Ethel putting a potion into their drinks soon vanished when he saw what it was that Carolyn had brewed on his sister’s request. After drinking from the modified juice, everyone of their guests had a distinct spring to their step that made them jump a little every time they moved. He remembered how much fun Ethel and Selene had had when they had turned the floor of the courtyard elastic with the Spongify charm; it had gotten them three weeks worth of detention and a passion for jumping as high as they possibly could.

Not being particularly keen on moving around like a bouncing ball, Jim had only taken the tiniest sip of pumpkin juice when Ethel had offered it to him; it was enough to give his step a tolerable spring, but not enough to make him bounce like the others, and that was just the way Jim preferred it to be.

Jim usually didn’t feel comfortable among so many people, but he had to give Ethel that, even he was enjoying himself. He watched Héloïse and Selene sharing excited whispers about the latest story of the Muggle detective they were so keen about, while Brady was bickering with Siobhan over one thing or the other, and Lysander was busy trying to place Alan on top of Carolyn’s head, who told him very sternly to stop it if he didn’t want a swig of Veritaserum served with his next meal.

Happy that his and Ethel’s friends seemed to be having a good time, Jim sat down on one of the blankets, partly because he wanted to eat something, and partly because he needed a step back from the hustle and bustle.

It wasn’t long, however, before Ethel spotted him. She walked over to him, jumping into the air with each step, and slumped down onto the blanket beside him.

“Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” she wanted to know. For a very brief moment, concern flickered over her freckled face. “Because I did my very best to make this fun for both of us. Look, I even invited that horrible friend of yours,” she said and pulled a face in Lysander’s direction; he stuck his tongue out at her in response before turning away.

“No, uhm, I just needed a short break,” Jim answered and set down his plate. “You, er… you did a great job, Effy, you know? I’m having fun, I think… It’s a lovely birthday party, really… so thank you. I, uhm, I didn’t expect this, to be honest.”

“But why?” Ethel asked; she looked truly baffled at his words.

“We’re just so… uhm, how do I say it… we’re just so different, you and I. I’m quiet and, er, shy, I guess and you’re so… loud and popular and we’re just not much alike.”

Ethel dipped her head back and laughed loudly. “I’m not popular, Jim,” she sniggered, “I just don’t leave people alone. Tell them you’re friends often enough and they end up believing it,” she grinned and waved to Cledwyn, who rolled his eyes and looked away. “There’s nothing more to it than that. I bet you could do it, too.”

But Jim shook his head. “I’m not really so sure of that... I think.”

Ethel nudged him into the side with her shoulder. “Give yourself more credit. You’re my twin brother after all, that has to account for something. If this is any help, we may be polar opposites, but you’re still my favourite person in this world.”

“Uhm, what about Selene?”

Ethel pursed her lips. “Okay, maybe it’s a tie.”

Jim had to smile at that. Remembering something, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a piece of parchment, tied to a scroll with a crimson piece of ribbon.

“Happy Birthday, Effy,” he said, for once without a stutter.

Ethel’s eyes went wide when she saw the picture Jim had drawn for her. It showed the two of them, laughing with each other. Ethel, despite being smaller than Jim, had his head in a headlock and was ruffling his hair while he was trying to escape, but he was laughing just as much as she was. The drawn versions of themselves were moving over the parchment in fluent motions. Jim had asked for Héloïse’s help with enchanting it; with his French still being awful, it had been one of the most awkward and complicated conversations in his entire life.

“It’s beautiful, Jim, thank you,” she said and flung her arms around his neck. When she let go, she looked a little sheepish. “Now I feel stupid for what I got you, although I’m pretty sure you can need it.”

With a wink, she produced her own gift. Jim could see she had wrapped it in her typical Ethel-style, with way too much wrapping paper and loads of colourful ribbons; one of them looking suspiciously like the hair tie their grandmother had gotten Ethel for Christmas. He blushed deeply when he read the cover of the small red book the parcel contained:

101 Foolproof Ways to a French Witch’s Heart - A Guide for Modern Gentlemen

“Effy… that… um… you… why…” Jim stuttered, his face a deeper shade of red than the Gryffindor banners hanging from the wooden tower behind Ethel.

His twin sister only sniggered. “Read it and thank me later.”

She got to her feet and pulled Jim along, motioning to the entrance of the pitch, where Selene was in the process of levitating a giant birthday cake onto the field. It had enchanted lion and badger figurines on top; the lion was throwing tiny pieces of cake after the badger, who caught it with its mouth.

“Come on now, dear brother,” she said as she linked arms with him and half marched, half dragged him across the lawn towards their friends. “We have a cake to cut.”

#ethel hexley #jim hexley #selene fraser #lysander mercury #heloise perrault #cledwyn ironwood #oliver gerard #eliot gerard #anthony rosen #bradford pendleton iv #carolyn nyberg #hphl #hogwarts legacy #oc birthday #writer besties

21 notes · View notes

steviespanties · 4 years

Text

Special Treats For Good Cat Boys on AO3 for full tags. 2.6k, Rated E. Unapologetic smutty fluff with a chubby catboy!Steve in panties, pregnancy kink (without mpreg) and a very successful Valentine’s Day date night~ Fitting for the @harringroveheart-on prompts Lingerie, Champagne and Date Night and a belated b-day present for @rvspberryjvm 😊💗💗

It’s the second week of snow coming down on the city, covering houses and streets in sheets of white over and over again until all sound is muffled when Steve walks outside. Even with his sharp hearing, face wrapped in his favorite scarf, he has to strain his ears to not get surprised by people coming around corners.

Icy wind bites into his cheeks and once again he’s grateful for the incredibly fluffy knit hat Robin sent him for Christmas. It’s got holes for his ears to poke out in perfectly placed spots- something Billy sneakily helped figure out for her, she’d admitted on the phone.

“Good thing I convinced you to buy the more expensive winter coat, huh?” Next to him, wrapped in said coat, a blood red scarf, his hat and mittens, Billy looks a lot less grumpy when he doesn’t have to complain about freezing his ass off. Steve snickers at the glare thrown in his direction.

“How could I’ve known that winter in Michigan is even worse than Indiana?”

Steve laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone tried to warn you in advance and you turned deaf all of a sudden?” He gets an adorable pout in response that Billy will deny up and down ever showing. He wants to reach out and kiss the corner of Billy’s pouty lips till he can’t help but react with a grin.

Bags full of groceries swing between them as they bicker back and forth. At a street crossing Billy reaches out and carefully brushes snow off Steve’s ear. He smiles back in thanks.

Steve’s ears have become extra fluffy this winter, with a thick undercoat that keeps the snow from melting and seeping into his skin. It’s like his body knew it had to prepare for the more serious cold. Billy can’t keep his hands from petting the new softness of Steve’s fur, taking every opportunity to brush his equally floofed up tail and give him head scratches. Steve’s started to feel very spoiled lately.

They arrive home to a warm apartment and close the door with relieved groans behind them, both glad to have escaped the cold. As they peel off their many layers of clothes, Steve sneaks a glance at Billy. He looks so beautiful when he’s flushed, his tan faded, but his freckles even more visible due to the winter sun. It’s not like Billy isn’t aware that he’s beautiful. Despite getting a bit soft around the middle, he’s still proud of maintaining his muscles. Gives himself finger guns and winks at the mirror when he’s all primped. But he’s also pretty. Long lashes and soft lips, a shimmery fuzz of golden hair on his body that Steve constantly wants to rub himself against. In the dark grey henley he reveals under his coat, he looks effortlessly stunning.

Of course, he catches Steve staring and throws him a smug grin.

“Ready for some food?” Steve nods and grabs his share of grocery bags to follow Billy into the kitchen.

“Starving,” he says. As they unpack, their limited counter space soon overflows with the clutter of their united assembly of their dinner: A spread of baguette slices with cream cheese, topped with caviar or smoked salmon. Cucumber salad, dark grapes and strawberries. Sliced-open croissants stuffed with bacon and scrambled eggs. Ice cream waiting in the freezer. And, of course, two bottles of champagne, already cooled in the fridge and now fizzing enchantingly in two glasses. Steve’s tail swishes excitedly at the mouth-watering smells and it takes a lot of self control not to sneak a bite. Still, Billy seems to have a sixth sense for Steve getting too riled up, because soon enough he bumps their shoulders together. “Why don’t you go ahead and get settled. Put on some music for us while I clean up.”

Steve bumps right back into him. Enjoys the way Billy barely even moves, unbothered and rooted firmly in place. “That sounds good. Thanks.” He can’t resist placing at least a quick kiss to Billy’s shoulder. This close, he can catch a good whiff of Billy’s scent, warm and a little woody because of his perfume. Billy playfully swats at him, which Steve evades in a fluid motion and a with laugh before he slips into the living room.

They’ve spent all afternoon working on a blanket fort that looks even more cozy and inviting than when they left to go grocery shopping. All the lights in the room are covered in red cloth, bathing the place in muted, warm light. Where their sofa usually stands, they’ve turned the entire thing around, thrown a futon in front and surrounded it with pillows and cushions. The cushy interior is flanked by chairs they’ve thrown a massive white sheet on top on, which trails over the back of the sofa and is illuminated by fairy lights on the inside. The mountain of blankets Steve insisted on adding might be a bit overkill, but his stomach gets all fluttery with elation when he looks at it. Like they’ve built their own little nest that calls for him to curl up between soft blankets where he can wait for Billy to join him.

So he hastily selects something sappy to softly play in the background: A REO Speedwagon album that Billy would never admit to liking, but that he has also never protested listening to when Steve's put it on or insisted on turning off either. Steve slips out of his pants, places them behind a cushion where he’s also snuck a bottle of lube and then quickly dives under a blanket when he hears Billy’s approaching footsteps.

“Hey there, kitty cat.” Billy comes into view holding a whole tray with their food, cleverly arranged so he can carry everything in one trip while an ice bucket with their champagne bottles dangles on his arm.

“Here, let me get that.” Steve leans up, careful not to let the blanket slip to reveal his surprise. He takes the tray off Billy’s hands and carefully lowers it to the ground. No snacks directly in the blanket fort if they want to sleep in here tonight. Billy huffs as he puts the bucket down. Lifts his head to make eye contact with Steve, just long enough to notice the mischievous glint in his eyes- and then he leaps forward with a whoop.

Steve yelps at a sudden armful of heavy, cackling boyfriend on top of him. Billy's happiness is infectious and he quickly feels himself join in on the laughter. It's Billy's turn to kiss him, just a lightning-fast peck on the lips that makes Steve wish he'd linger just a bit longer.

They share their first glasses of champagne that tingles on Steve’s sensitive tongue, making him chase its lightness into Billy’s slick mouth. There’s the explosion of briny, salty caviar and mild cream cheese in Steve’s mouth, more sips of champagne followed by cool, smoked salmon. The sensation of the tips of Billy’s fingers against his lips when he feeds him a bite. Holding a strawberry against Billy's lips in turn, he's enthralled by watching sharp teeth pierce the red flesh. Each sip of champagne slips down his throat easily, a perfect, decadent balance to all the different flavors that have danced over his tongue- none quite as addictive as the taste of Billy, though.

And suddenly, their tray is shoved to the side. Shirts are thrown off and Billy’s pants shoved down. The second champagne bottle is halfway empty and Steve’s belly is pleasantly full and warm in satisfaction, making him wriggle in satisfaction. Next to him, Billy inches closer. Crowds into his space until Steve leans back into soft pillows, ears standing up at attention. There’s a different kind of hunger in his eyes, now.

“I got a surprise for you,” he confesses in a hushed voice and slips the blanket down to reveal his present.

“Is that for me?” Billy’s words are smooth whiskey. Sweet and sharp and running over Steve’s body in an intoxicating caress that makes him squirm in place and his tail swish in gleeful anticipation. Billy’s hands close around his soft hips and tug him closer. Thumbs dig into the recently added softness of Steve’s tummy, all plumped up for the winter. He really feels like a spoiled and pampered housecat now, all drunk on treats and alcohol and skin contact.

Billy’s eyes are dark with want when his gaze catches on soft pink lace panties that finally show in all their glory when he fully slips the blanket off.

“You take such good care of me,” Steve says quietly. He wraps his arms around Billy to pull him in and feels a thrill run through him when Billy’s erection brushes against his leg. Clearly, the surprise is a success. “I figured this would be a nice gift.” A tender kiss to his neck.

With a teasing smirk, Billy looks down at the panties. “Oh, I’m very happy.” He snaps the waistband against Steve’s side, making a shocked mew slip out at the sting and his dick respond with a twitch. “But don’t pretend you’re being all altruistic here, babe.” A finger runs over the rapidly hardening outline of his dick and comes to rest right at the head. He pushes down, enough to give a tiny drop of pressure that makes Steve writhe in place, unable to open his mouth and ask for more. There’s just Billy’s warm hand on his hip and that unrelenting point of not-enough-contact. Steve moans.

“Ah, so- so what, not like we can’t both enjoy me dressing up for you!” For a moment, the pressure lets up.

An agreeable hum. “True. You sure enjoy being my pretty boy, though, huh?” And the pressure is back again, just at the sensitive underside of the head of Steve’s dick. That place is like a switch where he’s quickly set on fire just by Billy’s fingers and knowing eyes drinking him up. A small wet spot starts to form where a splash of precome gets trapped between his dick and the fabric of his panties.

“Yeah,” Steve admits as he rolls his hips up. Seeks the pressure and attention as another drop of precome pushes out. “Would enjoy it even more if you fucked me.” That gets him a small laugh.

“Someone’s been getting too spoiled.” Billy sounds positively delighted at Steve’s whining. He can’t help it! He’s spent most of the day opening himself up as sneakily as possible whenever he could get away with it, has made himself drip with lube until his hole has felt open and tender for way too long. Especially now, with Billy hovering above him, he feels himself want a reward for putting in all this extra preparation. He blindly gropes for the lube. Smacks Billy’s hand off his dick and the bottle into his palm and then pulls the fabric of his panties to the side to reveal his twitching, loose hole.

The frown he throws at Billy’s wide-eyed expression might be more of a pout than an intimidating glare. At least there's no protest from Billy, just a determined set to his jaw as he slicks up his fingers in a practiced motion. He shifts from confusion to palpable excitement when first one, then two fingers sink inside Steve with almost no resistance.

“Oh baby,” he croons and leans even further into Steve’s space. Kisses him slow and deep as he presses his fingers in and out in a pleasant drag that finally comes close to what Steve’s been craving all day. He grabs Billy’s arms and luxuriates in the indulgent slide of their tongues against each other and the sting of Billy’s teeth at his lip. He undulates his hips to meet Billy’s movement inside him, chasing the elusive need for more.

When they separate to breathe, he groans a desperate “Come on, I’m ready” into Billy’s ear. No matter how much of a hardass Billy likes to think he is, the strung-out tone of Steve’s voice never fails to give him a palpable full-body shudder that Steve triumphantly notices.

“Fuck, fine.” Billy looks flushed, all gold and pink and glowing in the soft light surrounding them.

The panties are stretched taut over Steve’s dick. Divine, almost too much pressure that makes him squirm as he watches Billy slick himself up. Being trapped drives him a little crazy and makes it impossible to fully hold still, even as Billy clearly tries to go slow while he savoring the sight of Steve all laid out in front of him. He doesn’t want to wait anymore till Billy finally decides they’re ready and shoves his hips down. Pops the thick cockhead inside and makes them both moan at the way Steve hole flutters around it.

“You’re so goddamn hungry for my cock, huh?” Billy thrusts deeper, clearly losing composure. “Pretty princess gagging to be filled up.” Steve helplessly moans as heat pools at the base of his spine and in his belly. He desperately meets Billy’s hips and lets out a long, drawn-out whine. “Bet you can’t wait to get pumped full to carry a whole litter of kittens for me.”

It’s like Billy has found the string he needed to tug on to open the floodgates to fill Steve with an overwhelming, fierce need. To open himself up even more for Billy to claim him inside and out, deeper even than Billy’s cock thrusting into him where it drags at his insides. “Billy,” he sobs, barely coherent, and clings to his back. Digs his fingers into skin and feels strong back muscles shift underneath his hands.

A rising pressure of something primal, inexplicable pulses through him. He drinks in the sensations- of Billy’s body heat and sweat-slick skin rubbing against Steve’s. Billy’s scent that makes Steve salivate for a taste of him. His hair falls down in soft, wavy strands that frame his face and tickle Steve's skin gently. A hand lands on his soft belly, above his trapped dick steadily pulsing hot precome into tight fabric. Billy's claiming where he’s warm and soft and still desperate for more of his touch.

“Or maybe,” Billy breathes against his ear, makes his breath ghost over the sensitive fur. His hand presses down a little harder. “Maybe you’re already carrying.”

He can’t breathe. He’s blinded by the fireworks going off behind his eyelids, unable to keep them open any longer.

There’s just Billy. Inside and out. And the thought of Steve's belly, carrying a small piece of both of them.

It’s too much. He comes, orgasm rolling over him relentlessly. He cries. Scratches at Billy’s back and pushes himself into Billy’s hand, consumed by his cock spreading him wide open, lost in the thought of more. His panties are filled with pulse after pulse of warm, sticky come, trapped mess turning into a feedback loop of shivery, delightful aftershocks.

There’s the most feather-light kisses on his eyelids. Billy’s thrusts slow to an intense, shuddering grind as he empties himself deep into Steve, all satisfied moans and grunts. Finally, there’s air in Steve's lungs again. He fills his nose with deep inhales of their satisfied scents all mixed together.

They rest. Clean up a little. Put on The Breakfast Club while they wrap around each other as they trade kisses and sips of leftover Champagne. Steve’s tail is curled around the arm Billy has thrown over his hips and he purrs in sleepy contentment while his ears are being pet. “You’re gonna be such a good parent” Billy teases at some point and earns himself a light smack to the shoulder that makes him hiss in mock-hurt. Steve places a kiss where he hit to ease the light sting anyways.

#harringrove #harringrove heart-on #harringrove fic #lingerie #bottom steve #catboy!steve #pregnancy kink #(without mpreg)

109 notes · View notes

platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

The Devil Looks After His Own Ch.4

Chapters One | Two | Three

Little Steve Harrington is so lonely he tries summoning a demon with a ritual advertised on TV–but luckily, it doesn’t work, and a buff, non-human nanny hired by his mom shows up minutes later. Years later, they’re best friends, and Steve still doesn’t know the truth. For @magniloquent-raven!

Since Steve’s mom and dad had basically stopped doing anything around the house, Steve helped Billy with things like scrubbing the bathroom, and doing laundry, and vacuuming. They listened to music very loud if Steve’s dad wasn’t working, and if he was, they played charades with each other as they worked. That meant Steve sometimes got the parmesan cheese when he wanted the Ajax cleanser, and Billy got Steve yelling and climbing up the furniture, looking for a huge cockroach rat hybrid, when all he wanted Steve to do was move so he could pick up the rug, but it was pretty funny.

“They are paying you, right,” Steve asked one day, as he and Billy laid on the floor of his room, exhausted from scrubbing the entire kitchen after Billy accidentally boiled a pan of chili over the whole stove and proceeded to drop it on the kitchen floor. Steve’s stomach growled—it’d actually smelled pretty good, for something Billy cooked, and he rolled to bury his face in Billy’s shoulder, groaning.

“...I don’t have a lot of use for money,” Billy said thoughtfully. “They’re giving me some, though, yeah.”

“Let’s order pizza,” Steve moaned, stretching. “I mean, if—can you get the money? Do you know how?”

“I have a bank account,” Billy muttered, but from the red his ears had turned, Steve suspected it hadn’t been that easy, at first.

“...do you have a card?” Steve asked, holding his fingers up in a rectangle, and Billy rolled onto his side to tickle him.

“Yes, you little jerk, I have a debit card, and I can get us pizza,” he told Steve, as he giggled and kicked the air.

“You should use it to do things you want,” Steve told him, relaxing into the hug, once he smacked Billy enough times that the tickling stopped. “Buy—things. Things you want. Or—or go somewhere.”

“Where would I wanna go without you?” Billy asked him, laughing, and Steve’s face heated.

He snaked his arms around more of Billy, and squeezed him, sighing contentedly. “...we could go together,” he mumbled. “To—to the, um, like, the water park. Or somewhere. They have slides.”

“Oooo,” Billy said, but it felt like he was laughing.

“They’re really cool,” Steve huffed, and Billy noogied his head.

“What about, like...Disneyland,” he whispered, and Steve’s heart thudded in his chest. “Or like...Hawaii? Is that a thing kids like? Go snorkeling?”

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered, because it seemed like the situation deserved a swear. “C-can you pay for that?! That’s—that’s a plane ticket, Billy—”

“Two of them,” Billy said, and Steve nodded, his heart pounding with excitement, because vacations would be completely different with Billy—Billy wouldn’t leave Steve in the hotel room all day, or expect him to just sit on a bench for hours at the mall.

“I-if you, um, if you want,” he squeaked, and Billy rolled on top of him, squishing him, and being annoying, and saying things like ‘Oh no, gross, did I roll onto a bug?’ “Get off!” Steve yelled, kicking and laughing.

“Too tired,” Billy groaned. “I’m just gonna lay here on this gross bug.”

“I’m not a bug!” Steve yelled back, cackling helplessly, until Billy finally took mercy, scooped him up, and let Steve order pizza with anything he wanted.

It turned out kinda gross, actually, because Steve had ordered everything he hadn’t tried before, but they picked off the fruit and the weird fish. The fried eggs and sunflower seeds were actually pretty good.

“I didn’t know you were such a good cook,” Billy told him, and Steve kicked his leg, snorting a laugh, as Billy flipped through channels.

He paused on a news show, the news person holding the microphone out to a being that was mostly fire and horns. “What do you think of this talk of requiring a license from both sides to summon demons?”

“It’s ridiculous,” said the guttural voice in flames, and Billy shivered, his face weirdly blank, like he got at the beginning, when Steve ordered him around. “Expecting my people to agree not to tear anyone’s face off, or steal their soul, when they’ve been summoned and enslaved for millenia? Don’t make me laugh.”

Steve slid his hand into Billy’s as the news person interrupted. “Well, it’s supposed to end that—”

“My own son has been missing for nearly a year,” said the harsh voice, and Billy trembled again, lowering his slice of pizza to the plate. “Are you suggesting I report the summoner to the authorities, instead of punishing them for my son’s captivity myself? How would a slap on the wrist help us more?”

“...fuck,” Billy whispered, rubbing his face, and Steve squeezed his hand.

“It stands to reason that if there was oversight on who could summon demons—” the news person persisted, but the fire demon slammed a flaming appendage against the table, and ey jerked back.

“I will burn them from the bones out until their skin cracks off in lumps of char,” said the demon, “—and then I will reclaim my son,” and then the TV clicked off, and Billy was sweating and shaking, tears welling up in his eyes.

Steve dropped his pizza on his plate, sat it aside, and stood up to hug Billy, petting his hair like he was the neighbor’s cat as Billy laughed and shuddered against him. “Billy,” Steve whispered. “Are you a demon?”

“You think I’m like him?” Billy gasped out, his fists tight in Steve’s shirt. “You see him and you—you’re like—that’s Billy,” he choked off, crying, and Steve petted his hair some more, biting his lips, and trying to figure it out.

Before Billy, he’d never thought of teenagers as being just another kind of kid—they’d always seemed basically like grownups—but he was wondering more and more whether teenagers were just children who could drive. Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about that idea, it sounded kind of...bad.

“Do—did you used to summon demons,” he asked, cautiously. “Is—is that why you—is that why you’re magic—is—is—do you know a demon,” he tried, wondering what could have made Billy cry.

“Doesn’t matter,” Billy mumbled, and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“It matters,” he said, but then he felt Billy start to pull away, and hugged him tighter. “But, um. You—you don’t have to...tell me. Okay?”

“...are you serious,” Billy whispered, and Steve nodded, running his fingers through Billy’s curls. Billy sighed, squeezing him back.

“If, um, if you don’t...want to talk about it,” Steve told him, “—um, you—you don’t have to...tell me.”

“...sorry,” Billy sighed. He sounded exhausted. “I just...it’s, um. It’s sort of...safer. If you don’t know.”

“Okay,” Steve told him, wondering. Billy was right, he thought—even if he did have horns, the Billy that swung him around in the air, played LEGO, and bought him weird pizza was nothing like the fire demon that had threatened the news person, which he thought he should probably tell Billy. “You’re not like that,” he said quickly. “He was scary. He wanted to be scary. He wanted to hurt somebody. He...I know you’re not like that. I didn’t—I didn’t mean you were like that.”

Billy nodded, sighing. “I don’t want to be like that.”

“Who would,” Steve wondered, making a face. “What a jerk.”

“...yeah,” Billy said, laughing softly.

“Do you...know him...somehow?” Steve couldn’t help asking. “Is—is that why you yelled at me about demons? When you first came?”

“Demons are dangerous,” Billy bit out, “—and they will kill you. Don’t you fucking dare try that summoning shit again—”

“I wasn’t going to,” Steve said, shaking his head, and trying not to smile, because Billy’d turned to glower at him, wiping his eyes. “I mean it, I won’t—”

“You better not,” Billy growled, his mouth quirking as he slid his hand along the back of the couch to tickle Steve’s side, and Steve yelped.

“I won’t! I won’t, I promise, I won’t!” he yelled, squawking and giggling, and Billy yanked him in close for a hug.

“You’ll get eaten,” Billy said quietly, frowning like he was still worried, and Steve flicked his earring.

“I won’t do it,” he said again. “I won’t. I promise.”

“...okay,” Billy sighed, resting his face against Steve’s hair.

It started to get hot and uncomfortable in Billy’s arms—he was squeezing really tight, and they were both sweaty from cleaning, and Steve was hungry— but he waited, petting Billy’s hair until he let go on his own.

“I promise not to kidnap anyone and get eaten,” Steve muttered into Billy’s curls, sighing, and Billy started snickering, and blew a raspberry on his neck with a loud farty noise. Steve’s dad stomped out of his office and yelled at them to be quiet, and they snuck the pizza into Steve’s room, and had a picnic on the floor.

A couple weeks later, Steve and Billy were leaving the LEGO store at the mall—Steve with his head stuffed with ideas and his hands on the Jungle Raider vehicle he’d finally picked up for his Ninjago set, Billy with the new bonsai tree set, because he and Steve had decided to add it to his house—when they heard screams. Steve was still looking at the cover of the box when he registered Billy shoving him behind Billy’s back, and a woman ran by yelling “Run, get out of here, there’s a man with a gun!”

Steve froze, clutching his Ninjago set, and Billy scooped him up, and frowned back atinto the LEGO store, and then down the corridor of the mall. More people were running by, and some of them were making phone calls, which was good, Steve thought dazedly. He should have thought of that, calling 911, like in a movie.

“Kiddo,” Billy said softly, “—those sets you gave me. They really mine?”

“There’s a man with a gun,” Steve said shakily. “Billy.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, sitting him back down. “And I don’t know where he is, or what’s going on, but if you—” he bit his lip, thinking.

“Billy, can you help?” Steve hissed, wide-eyed. “Don’t get hurt—”

“Pick a set to really never play with again,” Billy said, glancing back into the mall. “You have to—to throw it away, or break it, so nobody can use it again. Can you do that?”

“I can’t break it from here,” Steve whimpered, starting to panic. “I can’t—this one’s too small and dumb, isn’t it, it was only ten dollars—” he held up the Jungle Raider vehicle, his eyes blurring with tears.

“That would work,” Billy said. “You’ve never even gotten to play with it. You can’t just buy it again, though.”

“O-okay,” Steve said, nodding. He lowered it slowly towards the ground, and then jumped and dropped it as they heard a gunshot. He stomped on it a few times. There was a crunch, he flinched, and Billy yanked him into a quick hug, kissing his cheek, and then went all... pretty.

He grew, it seemed like, even from the tall horned man he’d been when he’d come to work naked that first day, and he had muscles everywhere, and Steve tried not to giggle nervously, because Billy was naked again, and Steve could see everything.

“Go hide behind the counter, or in the back, as far back and low as you can get,” Billy told him, and Steve nodded, grabbing Billy’s hands.

“Don’t get hurt, Billy,” he whispered, trying to let go, but he’d started to cry, and he couldn’t make his fingers let go of Billy’s.

Billy yanked free to squeeze him close, but they heard another scream, and Steve pushed him away and ran into the store, trying to cry quietly. He found the nice counter person hiding behind the counter, and yanked them into the back like Billy had said, then crouched with his arms over his head like in an earthquake because he didn’t know what else to do.

The counter person had a glittery they/them pin that caught the light from the front of the store as they panted, staring over his shoulder, and Steve watched it, remembering how genius he’d thought it was back when they first started working. One of the centaur twins in his class used ey/em like their art teacher did, but the other one used fae/faer, and they were identical palominos—and Steve had been so grateful when one of them started painting faer hooves and he could get it right.

He hoped he got to see them again. He hoped Billy got to see them again, and started to cry harder, thinking about Billy dead somewhere, full of bullets. The counter person yelped as Steve started to crawl away, asking him where he was going, but Steve couldn’t help it, he scrambled out of the store, and hid under a bench in the corridor, listening.

There were a bunch of gunshots, at least five, and Steve shuddered, covering his mouth so he didn’t make a noise, but then everything went quiet. He waited, tears dripping down his cheeks, until Billy stumbled back around the corner of the corridor, leaning heavily against the wall.

There was blood, smoking as it dripped over his jewelry. Steve scrambled out with a yell and ran to him, gathering him into a hug as Billy slid down the wall to curl up with his head in Steve’s lap. “I-I’ll call 911,” Steve sobbed, wiping his tears away to try and see, and Billy shushed him.

“S’fine,” he mumbled. “S’okay, mmm...m’fixin’ it. Need...need you…”

“What,” Steve asked him, petting his flamey hair, and patting his horns nervously.

“Talk to me,” Billy breathed, with a noise like he had snot or tears in his throat, and Steve realized it was probably blood, the blood soaking into his jeans from Billy’s chest.

Steve bit his lips together to keep from making a noise as his lungs jerked with sobs. “Y-you’re gonna be okay,” he whined unconvincingly, then yelped as he realized Billy was smoking a little all over, and he felt a little smoky, too soft under Steve’s fingers on his shoulder, and not nearly heavy enough leaning against him.

“Tell me about the picture, that first night,” Billy whispered. “How’d it go. Dis-distract me.” He reached out and ran his finger through his blood on the floor, drawing some of a circle, and Steve pulled Billy’s hand back.

“Don’t move,” Billy growled, pretty certain that made things worse. He drew what he could remember—the castle, and the horse—trying not to think about the sticky chill of Billy’s blood on his fingers. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and kept drawing, as Billy asked questions like ‘Wasn’t it in a circle?’ and ‘I thought there were symbols or something.’ Steve would have stopped, but it sounded like it was helping, as Billy got heavier.

His voice sounded stronger. “...what are you drawing?” he asked, sounding like he wanted to laugh, and Steve felt a strong temptation to do something annoying, like lick his ear.

“I don’t remember the symbols!” Steve hissed, guiltily, trying not to sob. “Hearts are good,” he sniffled. “I-it’s the Eu-Eurovision logo! And I love you.”

“...yeah,” Billy whispered, staring at the picture, as Steve added some clouds, trying not to think about how much of Billy’s blood there was on the ground to draw with. “...save me with the Eurovision logo, kiddo.”

Steve sniffled hard, wiping his nose again, and used his clean hand to stroke Billy’s hair at the base of his horns.

“Tell me why you drew that,” Billy whispered, and Steve hugged him, trying not to get snot in his pretty hair. “The—the first time. That first night.”

Steve could hear sirens. “W-wanted a friend,” he whispered, his lungs juddering so he kind of gasped it.

“Wanted me?” Billy asked, whispering, and Steve nodded, hugging him tighter, and drew another circle around the one Billy had started, and wrote some stuff in there, ‘I’ and a heart and ‘Billy’, and Billy snorted a laugh, relaxing into him. He felt more solid, less like Steve’s fingers were going to press through him, and Steve dropped a kiss on his shoulder, his tears coming even faster in relief. Billy’s wound was smoking still, but he pushed himself upright—as Steve waved his hands in panic—and took a deep, slow breath, and shrank a little back into grown-up nanny Billy, in a t-shirt and jeans, still clutching at his stomach. The blood on the ground was smoking away. Billy took another slow breath, closing his eyes, and the blood on his shirt smoked away too.

Steve reached over—gently—and tugged Billy’s shirt up to see smooth unbroken skin, and wondered whether it was real. “Is—is it gone? Or are you hiding it?” he asked, around the lump in his throat, and Billy leaned in to kiss his head.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, as the sounds of shouting got closer.

“How did you get hurt,” Steve asked, rubbing his eyes again as they spilled over. “You’re magic, how—how did you get hurt, Billy, you—you promised—”

“I didn’t promise I’d never get hurt,” Billy laughed, and Steve punched his shoulder, and Billy grunted, wincing.

Steve scrambled closer, patting at him more gently. “It’s still there,” he realized, crying harder. “You’re still hurt, Billy, you’re hurt— we have to go to the hospital—”

“No, no, kiddo,” Billy laughed, gritting his teeth. “I’ll be okay. I’m just...hungry.”

“How did you get hurt,” Steve breathed again, his brain stuck on the memory of blood on the floor, and on his fingers. He clenched them, clean now, but he could still feel the stickiness.

“Well, he was human,” Billy said slowly, trying to push himself to his feet, “—and I’m not, so I was trying not to hurt him.”

“He had a gun,” Steve squeaked, stumbling to his feet to try and help Billy heave himself to his feet. “He had a gun, Billy—”

“But he’s human,” Billy said softly, glancing up with the smile he put on when he didn’t want to smile. “Like you. I can’t go around hurting humans.”

“You can if they have a gun,” Steve growled, steadying Billy as he stood, finally, staggering.

“Naaah,” Billy said, hugging his head. “You might stop and think twice about being my friend, seeing me do something like that.”

“I would not,” Steve insisted, huffing. “Not if they’re shooting at you—”

As they walked out, around the EMTs and a man in cuffs, screaming about demons, Billy flinched. Steve turned on his heel to go yell, because Billy was nice, and pretty, and he’d gotten shot, but Billy grabbed him up around the waist and kept walking, telling everyone that stopped him that they hadn’t seen anything, and they were fine.

“I hope they put him in jail forever,” Steve muttered, squirming to get down, because he was starting to get why parents got mad when they were worried. He wanted to shake Billy for not understanding he was important. Steve couldn’t stop snapping at him, either, even when he tried to be nice, stopping for a milkshake on the way home—Billy asked what kind Steve wanted, and tried to suggest vanilla when Steve paused, and then Steve went and said strawberry, just to prove him wrong, and he didn’t even like strawberry. Billy’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he drove, and Steve tried not to cry over his gross strawberry milkshake, and the remembered feeling of Billy’s blood dripping between his fingers and soaking into his jeans.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to keep quiet about this, okay?” Billy told him, and Steve laughed, wetly, because it wasn’t like he could tell anyone anyway. Steve’s parents would have questions if Steve told them Billy had been naked.

“I won’t tell,” Steve said thickly, and Billy grinned at him, like everything was fine.

It was weird, being really, really mad at Billy. Steve wasn’t used to being so angry at somebody he loved, and it spilled out, everywhere, at his parents, his teacher, at his friends—and particularly at Billy, who glared in confusion as Steve stomped past when he offered a hug, or ignored Billy saving him a seat in the cafeteria, or refused to eat the awful food Billy cooked for dinner.

It was worse that he couldn’t even tell anyone—there was nobody he trusted enough, except Billy. It seemed so obvious, now, that Billy could be hurt— everyone could, Steve told himself, and it had been stupid to think Billy couldn’t be hurt just because he could do magic.

He wanted to scream because Billy would hurt himself to save Steve, or that he almost died, and acted like that was normal, and he yelled into his pillow until he cried.

“Don’t be pissed,” Billy hissed, yanking Steve around the back of the gym during recess, after Steve had picked Tommy first for his soccer team. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” Steve muttered, his eyes stinging, because being angry all the time made him want to cry all the time, which made him angrier.

“You are fine,” Billy whispered, sighing, like Steve was being a brat.

Steve figured he probably was being a brat, if Billy thought so, and kind of wished he could just say thank you, but it stuck in his throat, and he shoved Billy away.

“I protected you, you’re fine, I’ll always protect you,” Billy groaned, like Steve was stupid, and Steve pushed him again.

“What about you,” he yelled back, too loud, and started to cry again. The shouting of three classes at recess pretty much drowned him out, but it was still embarrassing. “Y-you keep saying I’m fine, what about you?!”

“I’m fine too,” Billy told him, rolling his eyes. “I healed, I’m okay, Stevie.”

“Don’t call me Stevie,” Steve said, and Billy blinked, probably because Steve had always kind of liked having nicknames, just like normal kids.

“...Steve,” Billy corrected, watching his face, and Steve realized he’d given Billy an order, and felt worse.

“Y-you keep saying it’s fine and it’s not fine,” Steve shouted at him, and Billy frowned harder. “It’s not fine if you get hurt,” Steve tried to yell, but his throat closed, and he kind of choked it out.

“It’s okay if I’m helping you,” Billy said, smiling like Steve was being funny, and Steve wanted to hit him.

“No,” he rasped out, and Billy cocked his head. “If,” Steve started, not sure how he was going to finish, “—i-if—if you keep saying—if you keep saying you don’t matter,” he forced out, swallowing hard, “—I—I’ll—”

“You’ll what,” Billy laughed, raising his eyebrows, and Steve set his jaw.

“I’ll believe you,” he threatened, lying, and Billy went still. “I—I’ll believe you. That you don’t matter. L-losing you doesn’t matter. M-my best friend doesn’t matter. If I—” he sniffled hard, wiping his face, “—if I don’t like you anymore, it won’t be so scary—”

“No,” Billy interrupted, wide-eyed, grabbing Steve’s arm. “No, no, no— Steve —”

“It’s fine if s-some—if something...happens to you! R-right?!” Steve insisted, crying too hard to pretend he wasn’t, and pushing Billy, who staggered back. “If you’re just gonna die I—” he cut off as his lungs seized at the idea of Billy dead, Billy in a pool of blood, still on the floor, Billy gone. “I-if you’re gonna die,” he started again, miserably, “I don’t wanna be your friend, I—I can’t—”

“Fucking hell,” Billy muttered, his hands twitching towards Steve, and then flinching back. “I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry, please—please don’t—”

“Wh-what if you die and it’s my fault,” Steve moaned, hiccuping sobs, and trying to wipe his face, and Billy stepped in close again, grimacing uncertainly, wiping Steve’s face with his sleeves. He smelled like smoke, a little, like he did when something scary was happening, and the laundry detergent from when Steve helped him out at the laundromat, and Billy had chased him around and tickled him on one of the dryers. “What if you’re gone,” Steve wailed.

“No, no, no, c’mon, no, no—” Billy muttered, pulling him into a hug. Steve tried to pull away again, but Billy held on, warm and strong, and Steve finally just bawled into his shoulder, sobbing so loud everybody came to look, two different teachers, and all three of the classes at recess. Steve buried his face in Billy’s shoulder, and Billy hugged his whole head as Steve’s new favorite teacher squeezed both their shoulders, and whispered that she was glad they’d made up, and then ushered everyone away, even Tommy, who looked torn between triumph and worry.

“I’m s-still mad at y-you,” Steve told Billy, gulping for air. “I-I’m so mad at you—I—I’m so mad—” he wheezed out, his breath gone from crying, and Billy squeezed him tighter.

“Sssh, ssh, ssh, I’m sorry, I was wrong, I was wrong,” he whispered, and Steve relaxed, a tiny bit, wondering if Billy got it, finally.

“You c-can’t do that again,” Steve told him, feeling a sick guilt for ordering Billy around, but pushing on, because it had to be okay to not let Billy get shot.

“I don’t think there’s probably gonna be that many shooters at the mall, kiddo,” Billy whispered back, laughing, and Steve stomped on his foot.

“You have to promise,” he hissed, and Billy laughed again, but when Steve shoved away to glare at him, Billy was crying too, his eyes red and wet. “...you promise?” Steve asked, softening a little, and reaching up to wipe Billy’s tears off his round, freckled cheeks. Billy nodded, smirking a little, and Steve frowned. “You can’t just—get hurt. Not for me.”

“Because I’m so important,” Billy said, his smile widening a little as his eyes spilled over again. “And you’d be super sad.”

“Yeah,” Steve told him, narrowing his eyes, because he wasn’t sure Billy was really getting it, yet. “I’d probably cry for— forever.”

Billy made a weird noise in his throat as he laughed, leaning in and kissing Steve on his cheek, and his ear, clumsily, and squeezing him tight again until his fingers hurt against Steve’s arms and sides, but Steve didn’t care, because he was hugging back just as hard. “I—I’ll be more...careful,” Billy mumbled, sniffling. “Since I’m...important. So you don’t have to get so scared.” He took a shaky breath, burying his face in Steve’s shoulder. “...just...because of me.”

“You’re the most important person I know,” Steve told him, his breath going shaky again. “Just—just you, you have to—you have to be okay—”

“I gotta make sure I’m okay so you’re okay,” Billy whispered, nodding a little, and Steve groaned, but it was close enough, he figured, so he sighed a ‘yeah’. “Because I’m important,” Billy said, laughing a little, like he didn’t believe it, and Steve growled into his neck.

“I’m not lying,” Steve growled.

“No, no, yeah, I know,” Billy told him, giggling, and Steve pulled back to stare at him. He was laughing and crying, pink-cheeked. “I-I know. I’m—I’m important.”

#harringrove #eventually #Steve accidentally summons a demon #Billy was horrified to be summoned by an unattended child #they're BFFs now #Sorry if anything's weird formatting-wise #kitten kept walking across the keyboard trying to keep an eye on the roomba

25 notes · View notes

frugalhoe · 2 years

Text

Day Off - 4/18/22

It's been a very stressful week so Ive been a little MIA. I couldn't wait to get out of work.

Left late and drove straight home. Since money is tight lately, I decided to just leave all my debit and credit cards at home and only spend money on my days off. This also means I don't stop off at several places on the way home anymore. It's drastic but it works really well.

Anyways, went straight home and spent about 2 -3 hours walking my dogs at the park. Pinky is finally starting to walk better on leash. Aussie's health has improved the last few days and we took the longest walk in at least a couple months! I'm currently saving up for a $500 Walkin Wheels wheelchair for him. He's not in any pain but he does fall sometimes and his back legs are weaker.

After I fed the pets, I decided to just heat up some odds and ends for my Easter dinner. I knew I wasn't going to want to spend time cooking so I just had my Easter dinner the day before...also microwaved but good. A few slices of ham, mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli.

Watched TV before calling it a night. Slept okay but woke up a couple times in the night to Aussie barking for me. I accidentally left the hallway light on and he couldn't fall asleep.

Slept in (7am) and just cuddled with Pinky and stared at my phone for a couple hours before getting out of bed.

Watched TV and cooked breakfast - 2 fried eggs, bagel with cream cheese and some leftover ham.

I decided to re-open my savings account with one of my banks and transferred a couple hundred dollars over. Since I'm stricter on my spending, I decided to get back into the habit of putting a set amount of money each paycheck into my savings. Each paycheck I'll send $200 to this savings account.

I've also cut out cable, impulse buying and I reluctantly made the decision to cut out my wonderful gym membership (a $130/month expense) to combat inflation and insane rental price gouging. My apartment complex has a nice gym but it gets quickly crowded in the weight room.

Washed the dishes, cleaned the kitchen and got dressed. Spent another 2-3 hours with the dogs in the park.

Came home, fed the pets and decided to treat myself to lunch and run some errands. First got my car washed ($0) then ate McDonalds ($16) for lunch before putting gas in my car ($23). I spent $66 on groceries (saved $15).

Drove home and while I was unpacking my groceries, I pulled out my panini press and grilled some chicken for the week. I used 2 types of Kinder seasoning. Tossed that in a pyrex dish for when I'm too exhausted to cook.

Got ready for work tomorrow and wrote in my journal (haven't missed a day since I started it in late February). Ate a few cookies before calling it a night 👍

4/18/22

#day off #day off 2022

4 notes · View notes

spiltscribbles · 4 years

Note

You're doing prompts! Yesss you have no idea how happy that makes me cause I love you're writing so so so much its so amazing soo yayyyyyy 🥳🥳 can I request prompt 32? Things you said I wouldn't understand. Maybe some wolfstar? I'm just a slut for your fics so I would probably die if you wrote this. Even if you don't that's fine I never wanna pressure you soo yeah love you 💕💕

~Notes: Gorgeous, this message is literally so fucking kind and I am absolutely SOBBING!!!! You are such a fucking gorgeous soul! And this means the galaxy! And I’m sorry! This screams angst, but I had a really really fucking awful day, so I just wanted to escape with some fluff :( But if you want me to redo I promise I will! Or you can send me another prompt and I’ll write angst! I adore you!!!

A Reblog Is Worth A Thousand Stars » Send Me A Prompt » Things You Said That I Couldn’t Understand

Sirius realizes on an ordinary Tuesday morning as he spills the chocolate chips into the batter of the first batch of flapjacks, that he and his husband of over a decade haven’t had a date night for three months.

Three! Ruddy! Months!

THat’s completely not on! especially considering that now that the twins have entered their terrible twos they’ve barely had any energy at all to go beyond furtive hand jobs and messy kisses in almost just as long. Sirius misses his bloody husband damn it!

“Daddy?” Angelica asks with owlish eyes from where she and her younger brother, Teddy, are standing on either side of him with their expectant plates in hand. “You look peaky.”

“Like you’re gonna puke,” Teddy tacks on helpfully, his ordinarily tawny curls turning a putrid shade of green just to emphasize his point. And Sirius silently reminds himself to tell Tonks off for teaching his kid such rude gestures once she gets back from her honeymoon with that Muggle bird of hers.

“Oi, you guys are going to make your old man feel like he’s the Hogwarts squid if you keep on.” Sirius tells them with a soft tug on Angelica’s ponytail and a cluck of a tongue directed towards his son.

“You’re father’s probably still just getting use to the time difference after getting back from the states.”

Sirius straightens up— pulse spiking in that way it always has around Remus ever since they had first begun to go out as fifth years— and spots him padding into the kitchen, beautifully sleep rumpled and cradling a babbling Maeve in one arm, while her twin, Matthew, toddles along side them with a meaty thumb in his mouth. Though he immediately begins sprinting towards Sirius once realizing that he’s finally home from teaching those Americans the newly enhanced defense tactics that the British Aurors have been utilizing to successful degrees.

“THere’s my Matty,” he crows, lifting him up in the air and blowing a raspberry into his belly while the toddler squawks with glee.

“Daddy home! Daddy! Daddy!”

“And he brings with him enough noise to rival the frog choir,” Remus notes absently.

Sirius waggles his tongue over at him, heart stuttering when he watches the morning sun spilling through the wide partition and unspooling golden in Remus’s hair. “You need it, gorgeous, considering you couldn’t wake up to your own ruddy alarm.”

Remus smiles in that abashed way that’s always been more devious than most give him credit for, “It’s the seventh year Ravenclaws, I think they will actually end up giving me an aneurism with how much extra they write in the essays.”

“Alas, I’m too pretty to be a widow,” Sirius sighs, tossing Matthew up in the air once more and cradling him into his arm before walking over to Remus and dipping down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

“You could’ve woken me up you know,” Remus mumbles, shifting from foot to foot while sliding Maeve into her high chair. “The moon’s not til tomorrow night.”

Sirius ducks his head, scratching the back of it with appropriate diffidence. “I just didn’t want to disturb you, love.”

Remus doesn’t catch his eye as he begins to walk over to the counter and brings the other portions of the meal to the table, lips pinched and shoulders stiff. “I’m not a total invalid, Sirius. I could welcome my husband home after a week apart.”

“What’s that mean, Tad?” Teddy asks, oblivious to the undercurrent of hurt in his father’s tone and energetic as always while scrambling into his own seat around the breakfast nook, wide eyes glowing with that easy mirth that Sirius is thankful every day his children can feel without any lingering ghosts. “A, erm— In—valvid."

“It means your Tad’s a bit brassed off at me, Ted.” Sirius answers for him, affecting a light hearted cadence. "And that I better get round to finishing up breakfast or else he’ll give me that stiff upper lip of his.”

Remus pins him with a glare from over his shoulder while Sirius sets Matthew into his own seat besides his sister, but his features are softened and Sirius knows that it means he’s close to being forgiven.

“Daddy can I have blueberries in mine,” Angelica asks as he returns to the oven.

“Course, jellybean,” Sirius answers, adopting the pet name that Hope had called her granddaughter ever since they had brought her back from the hospital eight years ago. Sirius loved it even more once finding out that it was actually a reference to some sort of Muggle treat that Remus use to eat by the handfuls as a lad.

“OmyChocomydadzee,” Ted yells towards them with a wedge of cheese in his mouth before sticking his fork into the plate of sliced fruit so to waggle it in front of a giggling Maeve.

“Sorry, son, I don’t understand trollish. Or is that some sort of highly advanced Metamorphmagus language that your Aunty Dora has been teaching you on the sly that we lowly, ordinary wizards couldn’t possibly understand?”

Teddy rolls his bright eyes with a huff, swallowing down pointedly before speaking again. “Only chocolate in mine, just like Tad!”

“Manners, Ted, remember please and thank yous.” Remus says, long suffering as he eases down into his own seat and sips from the mug of coffee that Sirius had already prepared for him. “Though yes, I’d like mine to be chocolate too, Sirius, if you’re taking orders.”

Sirius grins indulgently at them before peering down to his eldest. “Angie darling, what shall we do with their teeth once they fall out from all that sugar?”

Angelica laughs glowingly, and Sirius brushes back her chestnut bangs with a reverent hand.”The snow warlock outdoors could use it since he’s only got a carrot nose after Matty ate the chocolate frogs we were s’pose to use for his smile.”

“Brilliant!”

After they’ve all eaten, Teddy and Angelica race outside to await the Potters amidst shouts of “Shut your trap,” from a peeved off Teddy every time Angelica taunts him over his crush on Effie, and the twins dig into their toy chest in the living room while Sirius and Remus spell away the mess that always ensues after a meal with the Lupin-Blacks.

“Andromeda wants us to bring the Christmas pudding this year,” Remus idly tells Sirius while he enchants the dishes to begin washing themselves with a graceful flick of his wand. Remus ordinarily prefers cleaning them by hand, so Sirius has an inkling that the impending full moon has already begun aching in his bones. Merlin’s saggy bollocks does he wish this new, experimental potion would just escape the bureaucracy of the Ministry so that the man who is his other half could at least have a small relief.

“Is that along with the wine and fresh cranberry sauce she’s asked for?” Sirius says, saddling up behind Remus, bending slightly so to nuzzle his nose along the hollow of his long neck.

“Mmm, she thought you might say that, and wanted to kindly remind you that she carried a set of twins for us when she was forty even though we promised that Ted would be the last sprog.”

“Pff, as if I’d let potter outdo us.”

“We definitely didn’t let that happen,” Remus snorts. “The twins and Pip will surely be the next generation Marauders, God save Minerva.”

“Exactly!” Sirius sneers, locking his arms around Remus’s torso. “Besides ’s not like it’s our fault Meda’s bloody eggs decided on a two for one deal.”

Remus stifles a laugh, leaning back into the embrace and setting his hand over Sirius’s where he’s begun thumbing small circles against his abdomen. “Yes, well if you’d like to have that argument with her?”

“Oh, she’s full of it. I know that the twins are her favorites, spoils them rotten I tell you Moons.”

“Well it’s hard not to with such cute faces,” Remus says, turning his head slightly so to peer over at the pair of them through the doorway. Maeve is munching on the leg of her barbie and Matthew is clashing together pieces of two completely contradictory puzzles. Sirius swears that his chest might implode with the love he feels for his chaotic, little family.

“Course they’re cute, Moons,” he says loftily instead of the incredibly sappy emotions that are flooding his insides. “They’re are kids, cute is in the genes.”

“Cocky bastard,” Remus snorts before turning around in his arms and kissing him full on the mouth. And yes, the sight of Remus curled around the latest essay he’s meant to be marking up with the baby monitor for the twins’s room clutched in his left fist, was an absolute heavenly sight, but Sirius thinks this more hands on approach is a much more appropriate welcome after dealing with an ocean between them and six nights apart.

“Mmm, does this mean I’m not in the dog house anymore?” Sirius asks hopefully, trailing a path of kisses along Remus’s jawline and stopping at the hinge where it meets his neck so to suck only slightly, reveling in the beautifully familiar taste of his husband.

“You were never in the dog house you daft mutt,” Remus reproves in a voice that could’ve been caustic if it weren’t for his words going breathy half way through and his hands clutching tightly onto Sirius’s shoulders. “’S just— Just… Nothing.”

Sirius feels his stomach twist, pulling off of him with a scowl set on his face, and refusing for Remus to just brush this aside, the way he’s always want to do instead of talking about anything that actually might be hurting him. Like he’s afraid that his sodding feelings are somehow a burden, the self-possessed bastard.

“Tell me,” he intones, brooking no arguments while he gently takes Remus’s face in hand so he can’t look away.

His gorgeous features twist up, indignant and mulish, but they relax almost just as quickly, a defense tactic that’s melt away almost completely after so long of being intwined with one another in the most intimate of ways.

“Sirius, there was a time that you could hardly keep your hands off of me after being away for less than half as long,” Remus tells him, voice wavering only slightly. “And I understand if it’s getting tiring having to parent around the moon’s schedule—“

“What the bloody fuck are you talking about,” Sirius really meant to listen to him all the way through, he did! But he can’t help just how furious he got at the sound of that absolutely ridiculous conclusion Remus has somehow conjured up in his impossible mind. Positively hates how this is still such a point of sensitivity Remus has when it regards to their relationship.

“Sirius—“

“Don’t be a completely idiotic arse, Lupin!” Sirius very nearly shouts, absolutely broiling. “You are the love of my life, and I wouldn’t change a single sodding thing about us! And I swear to Merlin or Morgana or whoever the fuck else, that if you begin speaking such rubbish again, I’ll have to lock you up in our bedroom, and show you just how intensely I mean that.”

Remus’s face has gone flushed throughout Sirius’s diatribe, and his hazel eyes twinkle with that adoring way of his that always makes Sirius’s heart lodge somewhere in his diaphragm. “Lupin-Black.”

“Pardon?”

“You called me Lupin, it’s Lupin-Black now, has been for quite a while.”

Sirius chuckles lowly, feeling his righteous anger deflate as he crowds Remus against the kitchen island and presses their foreheads together. “You done being a senseless sod then?”

Remus locks his hands around Sirius’s neck, kisses his cupids bow with a tender earnestness. “You still could’ve woken me up.”

“I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t be exhausted for tomorrow, love.” Sirius reiterates, kissing him with feeling before pulling apart once more. “Though if I’m being totally honest, I would’ve liked it if you could’ve wanked me off in hello.”

“That’s all you would’ve wanted?” Remus asks smugly, the tip of his index finger tracing idl patterns against Sirius’s neck.

“Mmm, don’t tease me, Moony.” Sirius tells him before sharing another snog. “I was just thinking earlier on that it’s been three ruddy months since I’ve had you to myself for the entire night.””

Remus’s smile brightens, “Oh yeah? You’ve missed that have you?” He bucks forwards, and Sirius can feel him pressed completely against his front.

“I think I might go mad very, very soon, Mssr Moony if we don’t correct this most awful of grievances.”

Remus laughs fondly, kissing the tip of his nose with a smile on his face. “Well I reckon that the twins are old enough to sleep through the night, and Grandma Lupin is always asking after them.”

Sirius brightens ten fold, “Really?”

“I’m sure the kids won’t mind spending an extended weekend on the Welsh coast.” Remus nods.

“Right, good. Yes! Let’s use that tellamabob thing.”

“But the kitchen’s still a mess.”

“Remus, please have mercy on me,” Sirius begs with his best pleading look until his husband finally relents in that worldweary way of his, even if it’s him who snatches Sirius’s wrist and drags him to that muggle contraption, an excited jittering to his grasp all the while.

Sirius is irrecoverably in love with such a bellend.

~*~

My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #SPILT INK #SUGARPLUMS #Sweetest babes

62 notes · View notes