#time and life are so weird.. I hope we all get to have good life’s. u ask person

[dear-ao3]

Question for the mods....

HOW IN THE FUCK DID YOU MEET???

Like what???

How??

I am so god damn curious about you two. I wanna study yall under a microscope lol

Also ngl kinda envious of how close of friends you two seem to be. (Being an introverted shy af mofo sucks lmao)

I would actually probably read a whole ass book or watch a sitcom or something of the seemingly ever present weird-ass shit that seems to happen on a day-by-day basis.

/gen /lh /nf /pos

2018 newsies fandom. we weren't overly close but we bonded over race and albert a little and then katya dropped off the face of the earth for about a year.

during 2020 lockdown we both independently got into the witcher fandom and somehow ran into eachother again and had the fingers pointing OH MY GOD Y O U !!! moment in our dms. we bonded over hating jaskier. during this time we realized we were both dancers and katya was looking at dance colleges, i was already in college for dance and since it was lockdown and we couldn't go anywhere i told katya my experience auditioning at places to give him a good idea of places. and then i broke every internet safety rule known to man and said hey what if you had applied to my college but didnt know it?? and then one thing led to another and i dished out all the tea on my school. (only After that did we face reveal and give eachother our names lol) and then katya applied. mostly as a joke. until it wasnt a joke because that school gave katya a shit load of money and actually had stuff katya wanted to do. katya ended up coming to one of my zoom ballet classes and it took everything we had to not loose our shit on camera.

during this time we mostly kept eachother sane in lockdown writing witcher fanfic, and sending eachother awful thirst traps on instagram to pitbull music. one of our awful bits was using the dilf filter to make bad frat boy edits.

come august of 2021 we both moved into college. the same college. in the same building. it was wild. i pinched myself several times in shock. we went on a walk around campus with some worms on strings and were like what the hell how did we get here.

we continued to hang out and did weird insane things together. we took a class on the french revolution together where i had to put up with katya and fennec awkwardly flirting (read: making finger guns at eachother).

and then, since i was 2 years older, i was graduating and was going to stay in the area for a job and was like hey. what if we got an apartment together? and then we did. several adults agreed to this. idk why they let us. but now we live together in a real life apartment and we haven't even killed eachother yet. neither of our parents know that we met online. each of them have a different fake story as to how we know eachother and we really just hope they are never in the same room long enough to ask eachother about it. but its insane. 12/10 would recommend.

katya wanted me to include old tumblr screenshots of us talking, heres what i found from circa 2020:

we've always been like this lol

and heres some ancient greatest hits from instagram, i dont have context and trust me you dont want it:

every now and then the two of us look at eachother and go. how the fuck did we end up here??? (we have no idea)

#not a tag #from saph #storytime ig lol #sorry for the god awful quality #essentially we are basically dan and phil which is insane

[crystalandbow]

APHRODITE MESSAGES 💌

Hi!

Let's dive into your messages from Aphrodite

Intuitively pick a pile 👇🏻 and check the corresponding message to it! & I hope you enjoy the reading

PILE 1

1212, " I am sexy, I am divine", "affirm"

Y'all are fucking kings and queens and princesses. Just shut up, y'all pretty (inside out) asf.

PRIORITISE YOURSELF AND YOUR NEEDS.

Y'all be settling for bread crumbs and shit but stop! Like self worth where?

Stop hurting yourself for petty things/people and start to enjoy life. Celebrate yourself.

You could have a talent for natural healing powers so make use of it. The upright Queen of Pentacles can also signify someone involved in a nature religion such as a white witch. It can be an indication that you may have an interest in or a natural talent for Earth magic such as creating potions using herbs.

Connect with Aphrodite if you want to add more peace and calmness into your life. You might also have some (green flag) suitors that want to make you theirs.

" Confident " for some it is asking you to be more confident while for some it shows that you are confident in yourself & your abilities

Hope the reading helped. This is a general reading so Only take what resonates. bye see you next time!

PILE 2

"pours out their heart to us"

A change is coming your way.

What change you may ask,

You are now on the verge of releasing all that has been holding you back, you are now realising the value of something (your own worth, value of a person, time, effort, anything) and this is going to bring in a new flow of motion.

New love, new feelings or new passion could be anything but it's good!

You might be going through some tough times but you are very brave and standing high. And this new thing is your reward for trusting the universe. Keep slaying and working hard💪🏻

Hope the reading helped. This is a general reading so Only take what resonates. bye see you next time!

PILE 3

Y'all could be feeling tired, disturbed, pissed at everything (or something specific) we actually have very similar cards to pile two.

you have a new opportunity being presented to you rn / soon. this opportunity is brought to you by the divine itself. GRAB IT BITCH! this thing is important for you, it has a potential to grow and get big/ successful. depending on what the thing is it will show you its benefits/pros. it will likely bring you in contact with the right people/ your soulmates/ soul family.

how will you recognize it though? one sign could be your desire for wanting to go for it, you could be naturally talented too.

another message could be that you need to give out to people, help people, be a provider. this could be you providing guidance to people or money or hope/motivation, basically anything.

for some who have been thinking about sharing content online, this is your sign to do it! (and tag me/jkkkk)

Hope the reading helped. This is a general reading so Only take what resonates. bye see you next time!

PILE 4

Y'all seem confused and stuck? Like everything "looks" alright but doesn't intuitively feel right. You are unsure if it's you whose the problem or the other thing, something around those lines, yk?

not here to scare you but yall better be careful. Your intuition is on spot especially with that one thing/person.

If something/someone is giving you weird vibes and you can't figure out why then it's the universe trying to speak to you through your intuition. your intuition needs to be addressed, try to dig in deeper with "why" you've been feeling so.

Just be a Lil cautious, that's it ig.

Hope the reading helped. This is a general reading so Only take what resonates. bye see you next time!

#tarot tuesday #free tarot reading #tarot reading #free tarot #daily tarot #tarot community #tarot witch #tarotdaily #tarot blog #tarotblr #tarotonline #pac tarot #pick a card tarot #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a pile tarot #tarot guidance #witch community #witchblr #love reading #aphrodite #tarot messages #psychic readings #intuition #tarot tumblr #paid tarot readings #tarot pick a card #tarot pick a pile #tarot pac #pac

[beskarandblasters]

A Twisted Fantasy

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist

Summary: You masturbate while thinking about your encounter with the Ghoul.

Word count: 750

Warnings: reader refers to him as the Ghoul, reader is able-bodied, Cooper might be a little OOC but fuck it we ball, masturbation, allusions to smut, pet names (sweetheart), light canon typical violence, no use of y/n

Late at night, under the cover of the trees and the night sky, you think about him– the Ghoul. 

You don’t know his name. But you don’t need to. All you know is that ever since you saw him weeks ago, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. It’s an unfortunate chain of events. You had pissed off the wrong crowd in Filly, owing them bottle caps you most definitely didn’t have.

And for that, a bounty was placed on your head. That’s when the Ghoul came into your life. But only for a fleeting moment.

You were walking the streets after dark, already a bad idea. A hand enclosed around your wrist as you were dragged into a dark alley, followed by the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of your head. 

“It’ll all be over real soon, sweetheart. Be a lot easier if you didn’t resist either.”

“Please no-” you started to beg. 

“I’ll have you know.. they didn’t care if you were brought in dead or alive.”

“Sir, please. I don’t have any bottle caps. I can’t-”

He spun you around you were facing him. His appearance didn’t scare you. You had encountered Ghouls before. But he was different. 

He had a voice so sultry it made you melt, knees buckling underneath you. The brim of his hat hung low, covering his eyes. You were backed up against a wall, cool metal chilling your burning skin. A weird mixture of fear for what’s come and arousal coursed through your body. His gun moved to your temple while his other hand pinned your hands above your head. Fuck. 

Tears welled up on your lash line, threatening to spill over. It wasn’t long before they finally rolled down your cheeks in an unstoppable flow. 

“Please, sir. I don’t have anything.”

“Nothin’?” he asked, his eyes finally meeting yours as he cocked his head to the side. 

You shook your head no, crying harder at the feeling of his gun against your head. 

He looked conflicted, eyes betraying the words he was saying. 

“Look, sweetheart… A job’s a job.”

You cried and stuck out your lip, hoping and praying for a shred of mercy. You’re a crying, pathetic mess and maybe he’ll sense that. He sighed and cursed under his breath, looking away from you and at the ground instead. 

“I suppose I could say you ran off… That I need to track you down again…”

“Really?” you asked, your face lighting up. 

“Maybe but only if you do exactly as I say.”

“Anything,” you nodded as he lowered his gun. 

“Run as far as you can away from here,” he said, letting go of your hands. 

You waited for further instructions but he shouted, “I said run!” shooing you off. “Unless you want me to change my mind.”

“No, sir!” you squeaked, running as fast as you could out of Filly. 

You were thankful he spared your life but for some reason, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You replayed every time he called you sweetheart in your mind. It didn’t help that he looked just like a fucking cowboy, accent and all. 

And now here you are, fingers deep in your cunt, thinking about the Ghoul. You wish he were here right now, watching you please yourself. Or better yet… you wish he were making you feel good instead. 

You imagine he’d talk you through it, praising you for being such a good girl, telling you how good you take his fingers or his cock. You think about his pleasure and how long it’s probably been since he felt any. You’d take care of that for him, making him curse under his breath like he did that one night in the alley. You’d do anything he wanted if it meant he’d call you sweetheart again. 

God, how twisted is this? You’re fantasizing about a mutant who had the power to take your life right there and then. But that adds to the allure, to the fantasy. You’d pretend to be his bounty any day of the week, letting him whisper in your ear as he fills you up. 

Before you know it, you cum around your fingers. Waves of pleasure rush through your body as you bite your lip to muffle your moans. The disappointment of the situation settling in now. The Ghoul’s not here and you’re alone. You roll over and sigh, silently hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll cross paths again one day. 

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Part two

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x fem!reader #the ghoul fanfiction #fallout fanfiction #fallout

[acourtofthought]

I don't know if I'm being petty, but I like to think that some of Elain's actions toward Azriel are just foreshadowing for Elucien's dynamic. For example, Lucien is very thoughtful about his choices for Elain's gifts, and Elain is invested in the presents she gives to others, including Azriel, even if it's in the form of a prank. This makes me think that receiving gifts will be one of their main love languages.

The scene where Elain called Azriel's scars beautiful could mean that if Lucien still holds any insecurities regarding his scars, it'd be no problem at all for his mate to help him realize how gorgeous he is, inside and out.

And, most of all, the theme of choice would fit so much better in an Elucien romance. I mean, Azriel isn't the one banned from two courts, prohibited to see his mother, exiled in a strange land, the one who has only two humans (who will die in a few decades compared to a fae immortal life) as his only friends, and he's definitely not the one being ignored by his mate and fearful of her rejection. If there's a character who deserves (plot-wise) to be chosen, it's definitely Lucien.

Besides, it would make so much sense with Elain's and Lucien's characters and with the development of their relationship. The fact that Lucien respects her time and space (or his passivity, as some like to call it) allows Elain to make the choice of pursuing the bond when she feels comfortable and secure enough. She'd also have more agency than her sisters in the beginning of their relationships.

But these are just thoughts.

Thank you for your blog and your theories and thoughts. You make me feel hopeful not only for an Elucien's endgame, but also that they really have the chance to get the next book. You have been a light in the end of this three-years-length tunnel.

P.S. I also have a guess that the announcement will be on May 1st. Hope we are right!

Also, the scene where Elain called Az's scars pretty could actually have been Elain calling his siphons pretty because Feyre wasn't sure what she was looking at.

However, I do agree that Elain is going to find Lucien's face devastatingly handsome and the reason for that kind of ties into her mother. Which sounds weird but I'll try to explain.

Her mother made assumptions about her, that she did not dream beyond her pretty dresses and gardens and that she would marry for love and "beauty". So of course, Elain tried to follow those expectations, getting engaged to exactly who her mother would have imagined for her.

I know Elain loved Graysen and probably found him handsome but he seems cookie cutter. Even Feyre said, he was sort of the human ideal of a lord come to sweep a maiden off her feet.

Lucien's face isn't perfect. He's handsome no doubt but he has long hair (no proper mother would approve of that), a scar running down his face and his eye. He is not the image of a baby faced Lord set to inherit his fathers estate someday. He's cruelly beautiful and looks dangerous and, we're all human here, that's going to thrill the "good girls" which everyone assumes Elain to be. Graysen is the kind of guy you have missionary sex with while the lights are out. Lucien is the kind of guy you are willing to do anything, anywhere with and that's probably a bit overwhelming for Elain given her upbringing. Right now, she's still stuck in the past, how she was raised, the kind of guy her mother proclaimed she would marry rather than embracing what lights her up like a pinball machine but I have no doubt once she does break free she's going to make sure he knows exactly how appealing she finds him because of the scars, the hair, the eye. Because of how it all comes together.

And I agree regarding the gifts! I think we see bits of Elain's personality around members of the IC but she never fully blooms, it's like a quick flash then it's gone. I could see Elain and Lucien teasing one another on regular days, silly gifts, sweet little gifts, but the important days I think will be when they reserve the really thoughtful, heartfelt gifts for.

With choice, I wonder if it's so much about that as fight.

(that sounds weird too but I wasn't sure how to word it).

What I mean by that is Lucien was chosen by Jesminda. He was chosen by Tamlin. He was chosen by many friends of which we're told he has many. He was chosen by the LoA as her favorite son. The problem is nobody fought to keep him.

The same with Elain. She was chosen by Graysen, she was "chosen" by Azriel, she was chosen by the chef and servants who wanted to do nice things for her, she was chosen by her many friends. But, none of them fought for her either. When things got hard they walked away.

Lucien and Elain are parallel in that they're just accepting life as it happens to them, trying to accept that when one door closes (to their dismay) and another opens, they roll with it even if they're not happy. They haven't learned to fight for themselves, possibly because they are used to not being fought for and as a result they try not to ask for much because they realize how expendable they are to others.

But in their book, I think they'll push past that to fight for what they do want and they will fight for one another. Lucien has been doing that so far when it comes to Elain. He is the one person who despite the odds did not walk away from her. Graysen gave up after Elain was turned. Az gave up easily, moved right onto feeling calm because of another female, admiring another female, thinking of another females eyes light up, even though Elain was probably upset after his rejection for the simple fact that any rejection hurts. But Lucien though he hasn't pushed her, has quietly fought for her for two years, by showing that he is still loyal to her and only her. And I imagine we'll also see Elain begin to fight for Lucien. Fighting against those who have wronged him, fighting for him to understand that he's not guilty for Jesminda's death or what happened to Feyre, etc.

Your last paragraph before the P.S. (May 1, May 1!!!) was so incredibly sweet and I wish I had better words to thank you for it.

I hope you have a fantastic day and I appreciate your message!

#elain archeron #elucien #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #pro elain archeron #pro lucien vanserra #elucien supremacy #elain x lucien #elucien headcanon #character deep dive

[fictionkinfessions]

Reply to @ 748650924689555456/real-talk-but-i-hope-i-dont-ever-cross-the-line

First of all, it was nearly impossible for me to read this essay. You’ve gotta start breaking up more of your ridiculously long paragraphs.

Anyway, this is such an elitist take, which why in the WORLD are we making kinning elitist in the first place? Congratulations on not having that problem or not kinning from every media you consume, do you want like… a medal for that? Some praise? I mean seriously, want do you get from shitting on people who DO kin from everything they consume? Gods forbid they watch, read, play something and see themself in it. I’m not saying it doesn’t become a problem at times, because it definitely can from what I’ve seen, but for serious, what do you think your borderline villain monologue is going to do in this situation beyond making people feel like shit? What’s the point of popping in here, writing all of this ON ANON, and acting like it’s so cool of you?

The people you’re ranting about probably already know it’s a problem and are trying to work on that, or, if they aren’t, have made some peace with it because gods forbid someone finds something that briefly helps them when the world is quite literally falling apart around us. Having a little escapism or a little something to focus on beyond the world being shit is good for people, believe it or not. Makes people happy to find themself in media they consume, little pieces of themself that make them feel better to learn about. Fuck, some people are uncomfortable with exploring parts of themselves without the barrier of kin for trauma reasons, isn’t it a good thing they find multiple parts of themself all over the place?

Anyway. It’s so cool that you kin in the specific way that you do, but the majority of people don’t. Fuck, tons of people don’t even kin spirituality. Regardless of that, who cares if they have an “identity crisis” or split? That doesn’t concern you and frankly, acting like it does and you’re going to make a documentary on the people who probably have life rough enough already is so shitty. This entire ask is so shitty lmfao!!!!

There are tons of problems in fandom spaces that are encouraged by people who kin, I won’t lie, but kinning a ton or pairing two white guys who have “no chemistry” or whatever else you said is REALLY not the issues to focus on. Let’s talk about white people who use names from closed cultures. Or how fandom spaces promote misogyny? How about we focus on something that has real, genuine meaning and doesn’t make people feel terrible for no reason beyond YOU don’t like something?

All your “exposure” is going to do is get people who use kinning as a method of escapism from already horrible lives targeted and harassed more and more by nonkin. I just don’t see the point in this ask beyond “I’m better than you and everyone will see how weird and hollow you guys are 🫶🏻🫶🏻” like idk anon??? Touch grass or something lmfao

Sorry if this is mean mpc, I’m trying not to be, but still get the point across.

x

#fictionkinfessions #fakeclaim #bullying cw #mod party cat #ask response

[alicegokugirl]

Idiot (one shot drable)

pairing - pah-chin x AFAB!reader

warnings - nsfw // minors dni // fatphobic insults //squirting // mentions of milfs // mentions of stepcest in pornography

author's note - my beautiful, underrated pah-chin loves you so much he can't help talking about you all the time. ♡

Everyone knows that Pah doesn't shut the fuck up about his girlfriend.

No, because it should actually be scientifically studied the way he can turn every single topic of conversation into something about you.

"Man, these pancakes are the best!"

- "My baby's taste way better."

"Fuck, I just know today is going to rain."

- "Better not, girlfriend's got a hair appointment at 2."

"Your bike needs some work, dude."

- "Whatever man, just make the handle pink so it matches m'lady's nails."

The girls love it, thinking it's adorable the way Pah is head over heels with you and wishing their own boyfriends talked about them like that when they weren't around.

On the other hand, the boys had already started developing eye problems from how many times they rolled them.

It might seem contradictory, but no one, not even the dumb ones, ever entertained the thought of telling Pah to shut up for one second.

Because between the ridiculous amount of useless information shared by the loose-lipped blond about your food allergies, your haircare routine and your favourite brand of toothpaste there were some precious gems.

Pah is not dumb at all... but he's definitely stupid.

And it only took someone slightly smarter than him to get him spilling out all the dirty details about your sex life (usually Kazutora).

So when there's nothing else to steal, destroy or graffiti, when the boys are bored out of their minds, Mikey signals to Kazutora to bring out the porn mag they stole from Shinichiro sometime ago.

And with a loud, exaggerated sigh and a purposeful slam of the magazine against a nearby low table, story time begins and the all the young men gather around.

"Shit- This one is hot." Kazutora points at the wrinkled page that illustrated an older woman getting pounded from behind by a younger man.

"Stop with the fucking milfs nobody likes them except you." Smiley slapped Kazutora's hand away and turned the page. "Nah. This shit is way hotter."

"Hell no, man! Stepcest again? You're so fucking weird." Draken shoves the two men aside and opens the magazine on a random page.

"Fuuuuuuuck yeah..."

"Finally, some good fucking food."

"Shit! I'm getting horny."

Groans of approval were heard throughout the hideout as the boys contemplated the picture of a blond woman, laying down on a white bed with white, fluffy sheets, legs open and hand between them, shoving two fingers inside what had to be the wettest pussy they have ever seen.

"Bet it squirts." Mitsuya says looking above Draken's shoulder.

"Big brain Mitsuya." Baji commented.

"Bet it leaves the whole bed soaking after you feed her a bit of this!" Mikey gets up and grabs his crotch.

"Gross dude."

"Hahaha~"

"My babe does it better."

Bingo.

And just like that, the ruckus was happily quieted down by Pah-chin's comment.

"Really, Pah? We don't believe it..." Sanzu teases, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Yo- Pah might be a jackass but he ain't no liar." Peh-yan jumps to defend his friend.

"Damn right. If I tell ya'll my girl can squirt buckets, you better believe my dick gets fucking wet everytime we fuck." He says, punching the table hard.

"Jesus, calm down bro. We believe you." Mitsuya awnsers.

"Yeah, it's just hard to believe you can make your girl squirt." Kazutora intervenes, hoping to get Pah to share a bit more about his hot girlfriend.

"Well, yeah it's not hard when you have a canon like mine and a pretty pussy like hers."

"Really? Who would have thought?" Kazutora faked innocence.

"Yeah, you virgin fucks have no idea what's like having a pair of fat tits bouncing on your face while a girl like my babe is making a mess on your cock." Pah crosses his arms and leans back, a proud smile adorned his face.

"Fuck yeah, we don't. Tell us more." Mikey provokes.

"Imagine this, virgins. My good girl, her tight pussy, and the biggest fucking mess. Nah, cause when I tell ya'll there's not one time when I fuck her that she doesn't squirt you better believe me. Last time- and hear me out- I was tongue deep in her. The thickest fucking thighs almost suffocating me. Can you imagine? A hot girl like my darling riding your face?"

"Not really, something more detailed might help." Kisaki said, pushing his glasses up his nose in a way that hid the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Then listen to me, four-eyes. She is so fucking thick my hands could barely take hold of her ass. Not like I really could anyways. My baby is a freak and everytime she sits down she rides. And call me a fucking fatass but when I have a meal, I feast. Man, I had been eating her out for an hour when her legs just started shaking. She started telling me she had to pee or something but I had the best earmuffs and could hear jack shit. Next thing I know, I had my pretty pussy squirting all over my face."

"Damn..." Mikey whispers.

"Hell yeah. If my girl doesn't end up passing out on me after we fuck than I don't want it. Damn... just thinking about her cute clit swollen and lips all puffy is making me hungry again. Nothin' beats that view, virgins."

"Doubt. You could show us." Hanma says, optimistically.

"AND VIOLATE MY GIRL'S PRIVACY LIKE THAT? YOU DISRESPECTING MY GIRL? WANNA FIGHT?"

"Damn, fatty. Just askin'."

"Whatever, bean pole. I'm outta of here. Gonna let my Queen sit on her throne today." He says, getting up and walking out the hide out, closing the door with a loud bang.

Immediately everyone looked at Hanma.

"Stupid fuck."

"You had to ruin it, dumbass."

"Kill yourself, bro."

"You sleep outside today, idiot."

"Whatever. I'm one free popsicle coupon away from getting those videos and I'm not going to share."

i take requests from multiple fandoms. ♡

#anime #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #pah-chin #pah-chin x reader #haruki hayashida #haruki hayashida x reader #pah-chin smut #haruki hayashida smut

[pepperpixel]

Hello! I watched your speedpaints on repeat when I was in middle school (like 6 years ago) and sometimes still go back and watch them for the sake of nostalgia and good music. I just wanted to let you know you’ve touched my life and left a print, thank you 🤍

Thank you. So so much. For sending me this??? The me who made all those youtube videos. Doesn’t exist anymore. Life got harder. In so many new and horrible ways. And that like. Spark to create kinda died. And also I had more important shit to worry about all of a sudden. But. Knowing that it left on impact on someone enough to send me a message. Years after I’ve stopped making them tho. Idk.. that means something.. I appreciate you didn’t forget about me! (/my videos lol. I kno u don’t kno me. My vids and art feel a bit like. An extension of me tho? In a way. But I kno that it’s not a 1:1 thing. My art an videos express thoughts ideas and feelings of mine. But they are not. Me. Just lil slivers of me.. Tiny lil portions from specific moments in time.)

Sometimes it feels like those videos were just a flash in the pan. A brief moment of attention and fame I didn’t grab onto hard enough… and now the moments long gone. but. I didn’t rlly want to grab onto it, I just wanted to make fun videos. And show off my music taste lol. And express. The music videos my brain would create in my head into the real world. And then I got too busy w real life kicking my ass. (Ps. life has now stopped kicking my ass!! It’s gotten better. Just. Not the same as it was before) Maybe I’ll get back into it one day. If I have any new ideas. Once I get stable and know what I’m doing. And get like an iPad or something so I don’t have to wrangle w my laptop lol. But yeah!!! Srry.. I’m rambling a lot.. this message just made me emotional ok! I’m being openly vulnerable in turn hopefully that’s not too weird lol. I’m happy my videos had an impact on your life!! That means. A fucking ton. Like. Words cannot properly express the weird happy feeling that gives me in my heart. Thank you so much!! For real!!! Srry for getting all in depth about my life again this message just!!! Struck an introspective chord w me!!!

#like.. god damn #I guess it’s like… when I think about back then. and now. it’s weird. it’s so so weird #but this rlly! made me really happy to read!!! Srry if my reply is inarticulate or weird I’m bad at words and this is like a complicated #emotion to express without getting way too sappy and introspective and vulnerable #so I gave up on not being sappy and introspective and vulnerable to try and express it! #but I probably still didn���t do it 100% properly lol. hopefully u get the idea tho! #so yeah. thank u lol #I hope u have a good life dude! from: the guy who made those vids u liked… #time and life are so weird.. I hope we all get to have good life’s. u ask person #me. anybody reading my tags. anybody not reading my tags. idk!!! I just hope shit goes well! and we can get thru the bad times! #and have a good time. bein alive. to the best of our abilities… #ok. I’m gonna shut up now. this has gotten sappy and emotional enough ghghg #thank u.. again… Srry for goin off in weird tangents my brain just felt compelled #I have comfort nostalgia vids I like watching too. that just. mean a lot to me. I’m happy. that my videos can give u that feeling! #assks #sorry that’s my tag for. responding to asks. I promise I’m not calling u an ass #idk why I made that my tag ghgh- lil me was fuckin stupid lol #I say that w affection but I def was ghg. ok now for real for real shutting up! thank u again!

[pepprs]

i do not want to get out of bed omfg. this week has been so fucking insane im exhausted but we have aprogram tonight until 7 and i have to facilitate and there are a million things to do today

#but i got my p*riod and cotaught on tuesday and broke up w my counselor on monday and a few days before that redacted redacted so im ph #physically and emotionally exhausted but we have this program tonight until 7 and then 2 trainings tomorrow andi have like 2 meetings inbetw #between those. and i just want to sleep and/or lie down w a heating pad bc my cramps have been brutal this time around. literally could #barely get work done on tuesday bc i was in AGONY and forgot my heating pad and no one could bring it to me from home but it s like i have n #nowhere on campus to lie down or get checked out or anything bc im not a student anymore so i need to just writhe at my desk (<- i have one #of those now finally btw 🥹💗) and jusf hope i don’t pass out. and i didn’t but it was so bad and im not recovered from it yet. idk. #everything is so much. there are some intense and in some cases horrible things happening. iwwish we had time to pause and process them and #that we weren’t so tired and stretched all the time. i wish we didn’t have all these pressures to worry about. i wish we could just have #time to love each other and check in truly and to support each other bc we are friends before we are colleagues methinks and i jsut want us #to be ok and happy and rested and healthy. idk. augh #delete later #purrs #also i think i am not normal when it comes to cramps btw. i think maybe it might not be normal to be in this much pain. or maybe im just #weak or have a low pain tolerance but i feel like it’s a lot worse than it used to be + i get cramps at Other times too and it’s ummmm bad. #ask to tag #like how absolutely insane that this is a huge part of my life and i feel like i can’t even talk abt it and it’s so embarrassing but it #literaly is like.. every other week im scared that im gonna be unable to function bc of pain but i literally say nothing at all and just smi #smile and pretend im fine and barely talk abt it. i don’t think that’s good or normal. and i think ppl should talk abt p*ripds more so it’s #not as weird or bad or gross or cringe whatever to talk abt being in pain and to accommodate urself or whatever despite other ppl knowing #abt it. cringeeeee augh i don’t want to be one of Those people but like. it’s bad and i fucking hate it

[arthur-r]

just shot my shot and was shot down

#this is only worded like this cause i love how much times i get to say shot #i don’t actually feel like i’ve been ‘‘shot down’’ #we are still good friends. romantic and platonic means hardly anything to me i am just a big cushion full of confusion #and i told her that it was okay no matter what and that i just like her a lot and that includes liking her as a friend more than anything #and she said that she likes me so much as a friend. and i’m happy with that i’m just embarrassed. but it’s alright #and we still hungout for a while. so everything is okay i just feel embarrassed #anyways. i hope everyone is doing well. weird life update from me. just feeling a little bit weird #cause one of my friends was telling me that i shouldn’t tell her cause one of their relationships was totally ruined by ‘‘confessing’’ #like they were really close friends with someone and then told her that they liked her and then they became freaking archenemies basically #so i was scared. and now i feel weird because we’re just being normal. and everything is good but i feel a little ill #she was the best rejector in the entire world though. ‘‘i like you so much as a friend’’ that is awesome that is exactly what i want to hear #i just feel a little bit weird. plus my band is breaking up. and we’re selling my house. so maybe just a lot of weird stuff going on #but anyway yeah. i hope you all are well!! i’m gonna have dinner and then sleep for a long time #let me know if you need anything as always #me. my post. mine. #delete later #friends only #ask to tag

[milo-is-rambling]

I forget how much I hate the taste of vodka but the whipped cream vodka is so much better my god

#make a drink sweet enough that you can’t taste it when it’s in ur mouth and then all u get is the whipped cream vodka in the burn #makes drinks more tolerable #also this is the fastest I think I’ve ever chugged an alcoholic drink #we are gonna get fucked up tonight bc we have daddy issues and fought with our mom this morning slayyy #smoked a cigarette at the lake now getting fucked up in my room while home alone #life is so good and it’s all bullshit forever #literally we could all die and it doesn’t matter and life is weird and crazy and I am happy it sucks and I am so fucking thrilled to be aliv #at all #life is good regardless of death but I wish death would just like wait patiently for my family #dad I miss u I hope you had a good four twenty where ever you ended up. im sorry moms acting like this. I hope my brothers okay at school. #I hope he’s having a good time and isn’t completely overwhelmed with everything. I was right and apparently he’s gonna come home after grad #uation and im excited to have him home again but my mothers all upset. I know it sucks that you’re dead but it’s nice knowing in a weird way #that you’re the reason me and hunter got close again. so thanks I guess for that. and smoking made me and mom grow closer. idk. you’ve done #a lot for us and most of it had to do with weed. today hurt worse than my birthday. or the six month anniversary. today sucked. and no one #else seemed to be torn apart by it and it made me feel like I was going crazy and no one could even tell #you would’ve noticed if I was acting different. I love you. wherever you are I still love you. and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such a bitch. #and I wish I took better care of you. but you were my father I wasn’t supposed to take care of you. you should’ve been there for me. we shou #have been there for mom and hunter and your parents and I’ve been thinking a lot about grammie actually. I don’t know how I feel. thinking #about her makes me cry now. I don’t have the heart to make her cry talking about my childhood but I miss her. and I miss being young. I miss #you coming to my Father’s Day dance recitals and coming back from bike week in Laconia and bringing me flowers always wearing your grey #Harley Davidson jacket and you’d have flowers in your arms and you’d be bored but so proud and you’d hug me and you’d smell like weed and #your beard was always scratchy when you’d hug me and I just miss you a lot. I miss you and I fucking hate you for it fuck. #note to self. ​don’t be pmsing and then get drinking and smoking and thinking of your dead father. you will cry

[sunnami]

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

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

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

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

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

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

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

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

“I know.” Harry grins. 

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

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

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry wants to barf, actually.

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

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

“Away from you, Potter!” 

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

Harry chortles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry’s eye twitches. 

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

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

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

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

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

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One date, then.” 

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

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

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

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

“And I want to—” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

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

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

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

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

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

“Oi.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

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

[odinsblog]

“One weird, silver lining positive from the WGA's strike has been a sense of calm over a reality that has plagued me with anxiety for years — the fact that despite having a great agent, manager, and lawyer, despite having been in hundreds of rooms with top execs and producers, despite having pitched countless networks, and despite having sold multiple pilots and pitches, I still work in food and bev. For so long, it felt like such an embarrassment in so many ways because it felt like I was the only one who was biding time in between sales with a side hustle. When I would tell people at work that I wrote television, they'd look at me like I had ten heads, or like I was delusional. They couldn't IMAGINE someone who *actually* wrote television would also be asking them what temp they wanted their salmon.

But the reality is, TV money goes fast, especially when it's just a pilot sale. And if shit doesn't get picked up to series, that money only lasts for so long. Being responsible meant swallowing my pride and keeping a job that was more consistent and steady but also gave me the ability to take pitch meetings, to write on my down time, do rewrites, answer e-mails, and take notes calls.

And for so long I thought I was a minority in that regard. Like I had done something wrong to not be successful enough to rely solely on my career as a writer.

Yet the strike has pushed SO many stories to the forefront of writers doing the exact same thing I've done, GOOD writers, great writers, writers who shit I watch all the time, whose names I instantly recognize, whose reputations in this industry precede them. So when the studios leaked that the goal was to bleed writers dry, to make it so we lost our homes, I had to laugh. Writers like me will literally do anything to keep the dream of writing alive. It's in us. It never goes away, no matter how many steaks you server, how many martinis you mix, how many cold calls you make, how many Uber passengers you pick up, how many pizzas you have to deliver. We always always always find a way to make it to that next great hope of a pitch, a sale, a green light.

And that's how you know that the CEOs are so fucking out of touch with reality. With the industry. With the POINT of the industry the point for most (not all, but most) has never been to be filthy rich, or own a yacht, or even have a membership to SoHo house. It's been to make something we love. To see it come to life, and make other people happy, or sad, or angry, or scared. To take this story you have kicking around your head and turn it into some epic journey. To be part of the process of making worlds and characters come to life. To tell stories.

The CEO's point has been to make as much money as humanly possible. And so they think that's all there is motivating writers. it's not. It never has been. Just because those CEO's wouldn't wait tables or mix drinks or drive a Lyft in order to keep a dream going, doesn't mean the rest of us wouldn't. The CEO's don't have a dream, they have a lifestyle. And I promise you a dream is a much better motivator than a yacht or a Porsche.

Try to bleed us dry, guys. Just because you'd let your own dream bleed to death, doesn't mean we would. We will always find a way to keep it alive.”

—Stefanie Williams, a tv writer on strike

#hollywood #writers strike #corporate greed #bob iger #disney #living wages #wga strong #sag aftra #writers #writing #dreams

[rafeandonlyrafe]

borrowed clothes

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, smut, female receiving oral, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of male masturbation, friends to lovers

“rafe, can i borrow your panthers jersey?” you ask, walking into his closet without even waiting for permission.

“you know, you always steal my clothes and never give me any of yours in return.” rafe points out, following you in to the walk in, seeing you already looking through his shirts, trying to find the nfl jersey.

“its sports night, rafe.” you roll your eyes. your favorite bar does themed nights that allow discounted drinks if you come in theme. “you have a million sports things to wear, and i have none.” you remind your best friend.

“all im saying is its unfair.” rafe smiles at you as you find the jersey you were thinking of, knowing his closet better than he does. it’s just a part of being friends for your entire life, best friends.

“okay, here.” you tug your black tshirt off, having planned to wear it underneath rafes jersey, but you can deal with just your bra. rafe looks away from your chest, despite having seen you in just your underwear or swimsuit a million times.

you toss the material at him before tugging the oversized jersey over your head, tucking the front into your tiny miniskirt. “how do i look?” you ask rafe, who is now holding your discarded tshirt in his hand.

rafe nods. “good.” its all he can force himself to say. better than sexy, hot, so good that he wants to bend you over right in the closet and shove that little skirt up and bury his cock in your-

“great!” you smile. “now we gotta find something sporty for you.” you hum, turning back to his closet.

--

“rafey?” you call, entering tanneyhill without knocking. you haven’t asked permission to enter since you were a child, with rafes house being your second home.

“he’s in the shower.” wheezie calls out from the living room.

“thanks wheez!” you ruffle her hair as you walk past, teasing her like she was your own little sister.

you head up to rafes room, flopping onto the bed as you pull your phone out, waiting for rafe to finish up in the shower, hoping he won’t take too long.

you scroll through tiktok, letting out a yawn with a big stretch, readjusting and sliding your hand under rafes pillow. you frown when realize your fingers graze over a weird material, feeling oddly stiff and not something that belongs on rafes bed.

you sit up, moving the pillow to reveal your black tshirt, now covered in white stains. you frown and move it closer to inspect the fabric, eyes widening when you realize what you are holding in your hands.

your mind moves at a thousand miles a minute, realizing that rafe has been jacking off into your shirt. the implications are clear, the one piece of clothing item that he has of yours, and he uses it to get himself off?

you toss the piece of fabric back down, slamming the pillow back on top of it right as rafe opens the bathroom door, towel wrapped around his waist.

“i-i can explain.”

--

“f-fuck!” you shout out, rafes head buried in your cunt, tongue lapping over your pussy, finally tasting you like he's long awaited to. “why did it take us so long to do this?”

rafe just smiles against your cunt, glad that he didn't need to give a real explanation as you hopped off the bed and kissed him, realizing that your feelings echoed his after seeing your tshirt, suddenly feeling just as pent up.

“should have just fucked me instead of cumming all over my shirt.” you whine as his tongue flicks over your clit.

“ill buy you a new one.” rafe sucks your clit into his mouth, determined to make you cum. you let out a cry, your high building.

a shiver spreads throughout your body as rafes mouth brings you to orgasm, a scream being forced out of your body, not caring that there are other people in the house that could hear.

“fuck, you taste so good baby.” rafe moans into your cunt, tongue swiping out again until you gently push his head away, not able to take anymore on your sensitive clit.

rafe rises up, draping himself over your body. he gives you a deep kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“i can't believe you were jacking off into my shirt thinking of me.” you giggle. 

“oh god, you're never gonna let me forget that, are you?” rafe groans, moving lower to rub his cock between your folds, soaking it in your wetness.

you laugh before it's cut off by rafes lips.

“can i fuck you y/n?” rafe asks, lining himself up with your entrance.

“yeah.” you nod. “yeah, need you.”

“last chance to rethink this. because once i enter you, we can't just be friends anymore.”

“i know, i know.” you peck a kiss to rafes lips. “hurry up and fuck me already.”

rafe smiles down at you as he slowly presses forward, your walls giving way to his thick cock.

“i love you.” rafe admits with a gasp.

“i love you too.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x you

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

#writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writers block #novel writing #fiction writing #writer #writers of tumblr

[imyourbratzdoll]

hiii baby 🤍

weird request maybe…

But reader being tired of dating but really wanting a baby…like she just really doesn’t want to wait for the perfect man to settle down with, but she really really really wants a baby.

So she asks childhood!bestfriend!bucky or like childhood!bestfriend!CE!Character to impregnate her…

He (being secretly in love with her) agrees, so they make one 😩

hi honey! not weird at all! I loved this, I'm hoping I did it justice and that you love it!

summary - you've decided to stop going on dates when the last one fails and go to your best friend for the thing you desperately want.

warning - smut, breeding kink, unrequited love (or not), horrible dates, creampie, swearing, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You sigh, having just come back from yet another failed date. No man seemed to live up to the expectation you were looking for. You sagged into the couch, kicking your shoes off and beginning to massage your temples. “Ugh, I’ll never find the perfect man to settle down with…” You look down at your stomach, and your mind fills with images of you being pregnant. Your eyes blink it away as you rub your belly. “I just want a baby… Is that so hard?” 

Your eyes widen when you realise you have the perfect plan. Bucky! He’s your best friend, an ideal option for a sperm donor. You quickly dig through your purse and pull out your phone, unlocking it and quickly sending him a message. 

‘Hey, are you able to come over? I have something important to ask you.’ You send the text, gnawing on your bottom lip as you wait for his response, watching the three little dots appear. 

‘Sure, I’ll be there in 10 minutes with your favourite snacks.’ 

You smile, quickly jumping up and running to your room. You strip from the clothes you sadly wasted on your date and changed into a red lingerie set that Bucky got you for your birthday. You smirked when you remembered how flushed Bucky looked as you opened the gift bag and promised to show him one day. You walk over to the mirror and fix your make-up, reapplying your red gloss. 

When you hear the door unlock, you quickly throw on your silk robe and head out of your room, ready to greet Bucky. He enters and smiles when he sees you waiting there for him. His heart practically pounds out of his chest as you smile back at him, walking over and wrapping your arms around his body. “Hey, I got us some Chinese.” He wraps one arm around you, tightly holding the bag of food with the other. 

“You came so fast!” Your cheeks heat up at the innuendo of your words. You don’t notice the pout on his lips as you pull away from him and begin to walk toward the lounge room. “C’mon, I’d feel better asking you the thing while sitting down… I don’t really know how you’ll feel about it.” Your chew on your bottom lip, your nerves getting to you as you realise if he says no, you’ll possibly be ruining a good friendship.

Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, practically feeling your nerves radiating off of you. His eyes shamefully land on your arse, watching your hips sway as you walk before him. “So, uh… How did your date go?” This would be the tenth date this week that you’ve been on, and as your best friend, Bucky knows all about them and how lately they haven’t been going well. Except for his heart that constantly broke every time you told him you had a date with everyone but him. Bucky sits beside you, pulling out the hot food and handing you your usual. 

“Shit like the others.” You immediately begin to stuff your face with food, starving from storming off during the date. “From the moment we met, all he spoke about was himself and the women he’s been with. Then when we sat down to eat, he ordered for me, but when I stood up for myself and ordered what I wanted. He decided to call me a cow and fat and that no man would ever love me if I didn’t let them take control of my life.” You growl, shovelling more food in your mouth. You swallow and look at Bucky, noticing the angry look behind his eyes but deciding to ignore that. “But, I came to a conclusion. You know how much I’ve been wanting a baby and have been trying to find the perfect man to settle down with.”

Bucky nods before frowning. “Please don’t tell me you're going to just sleep with one of these guys to get one.” His brows furrow. “You deserve more than that. You deserve someone that will be there for you and the baby.”

You wave him off, sucking some juice off your thumb. “Of course not. I had someone better in mind.” Your eyes connect with him, and Bucky’s brows raise when he puts the pieces together. “I want you to impregnate me, Bucky.”

“Y–you–” He swallows, blinking rapidly, wondering if he heard you right.

“I want you, Bucky. Just imagine how cute our baby would be, but I understand if you say no and no longer want to be–”

“Yes.”

“B–”

“Yes.” Bucky immediately scoots closer and cups your cheeks. “I’ll pump you full until you are carrying my child.” You feel slick gather between your thighs, turned on by his words. Bucky’s hands move down and undo your robe, choking on his saliva when his eyes land on the red lingerie set he had bought you. “You’re so beautiful…” He whispers, staring for a while before looking into your eyes. “D–do you want to go slow or…” Bucky swallows, knowing that you weren’t doing this because you felt anything for him. You were doing this to get a baby.

“Fast, for now, I just need you.” You whimper. You grasp the back of Bucky’s head and pull him toward you, devouring his lips with yours. “Please, fuck a baby into me.”

Bucky catches the for-now part, causing his heart to jump, knowing there might be another time. His breath catches as your lips connect, swearing that fireworks went off. His hand lands between your legs and begins to rub you through your knickers, letting out a moan as he feels how wet you are. “D–did you touch yourself before I got here?” 

You shake your head, “No, no….” You whine, back arching and legs spreading more as he touches you. Bucky feels his cock harden more when he realises he made you wet. “Bucky, please.” You blink the tears away, so overwhelmed with your feelings for your best friend and your horniness. You hadn’t been touched in so long, and to have Bucky finally touch you with the promise of putting a baby in you intensifies it.

Bucky leans back, giving you a look. “Are you sure about this? Because once I start, I really don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” You nod rapidly, gripping any part of him that you can. He places a hand under your chin. “I need words, Y/n.” 

“Yes, Bucky. I’m sure I want this.” You watch him remove your clothes, followed by his, and you gasp as your eyes land on his member. “You’re so big…” Bucky strokes his cock, lining it with your sopping cunt. As he pushes in, Bucky leans forward and connects his lips with yours, swallowing your moans. “O–oh…” 

His hands move down and grip your hips, thrusting deep, fast and hard into your tight walls. “Fuck, you feel so good, doll.” Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer to you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits deep inside you, hitting places you’ve never reached before. “I can’t wait to pump you full of my cum, doll. Breed you.” He growls, getting lost in the feel of you. 

You moan, gripping onto your best friend, feeling him split you open, bringing you pleasure you’ve never felt before. You can’t wait until he fills you with his cum, giving you what you’ve always wanted. “Faster, Bucky, please.” You don’t know how he’s done it, but you're so close you can feel your orgasm just around the corner. 

Bucky’s hips begin to snap, slamming into you hard and fast. “Shit, doll. I’m so close.” His hand slides between your bodies, locating your clit and rubbing it. Your back arches, legs squeezing tighter around him as your juices squirt out of you, your walls pulsating around his thick cock. Bucky groans, burying his face into your neck, pounding into you before burying himself deep inside you. Thick spurts of cum shoot out of his mushroom tip as he pumps you full of his cream. “Fuck, fuck! There’s so much. It feels too good, doll!”

You sag into the couch, pulling Bucky along with you, enjoying the feeling of his softening cock inside of you. He stares at you, stroking your cheek, and you smile tiredly up at him. “Thank you, Bucky. I hope this takes, if not. We will have just to keep trying.”

Bucky smiles, “I’d be happy with that.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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[lihhelsing]

"What do you mean you don't remember your first kiss?" Eddie asked, giving Steve that look he always got whenever he made the mistake of mentioning that piece of information about his past.

Steve shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and hoped Eddie would drop it. "I just don't remember it. Guess it wasn't memorable."

Eddie rolled his eyes, "You're telling me your first kiss wasn't memorable?"

"Yeah, man. It's whatever."

Now, both Eddie and Steve knew that was a lie. Not that Steve necessarily cared about something like a first kiss, but it bothered him that everyone seemed to have either a funny or sweet story to tell.

Like how Robin's first kiss had happened under a tree with her first girl crush, or how Nancy's first kiss only happened because the guy was kind of scared of her, or how Jonathan's first kiss only happened with Nancy.

"Do you remember yours?" Steve asked and Eddie nodded instantly.

"Of course I do."

Steve raised a brow at him and Eddie chuckled.

"It wasn't anything special, really. I kissed a guy under the bleachers and he never spoke to me again after that, the end."

Eddie was using that voice he always used whenever something bothered him.

"So it wasn't good," Steve said as he placed his hand on top of Eddie's. What was worse, not remembering your first kiss or feeling like shit about it?

"The kiss was ok. It was barely a kiss, I had no idea what to do with my hands and tongue and it was a little weird. Nothing to write home about, that's for sure. But I lost a friend that day and it really sucked. It made me think kisses are more powerful than they have any right to be."

And wasn't that the truth? Steve remembered other first kisses. Like his first kiss with Nancy, that he thought was gonna be the last first kiss of his life. He was wrong about that, of course.

"I know what you mean," Steve said. His hand was still on top of Eddie's but now Eddie was smiling.

And then he was grinning.

"I have an idea," he said, looking like a maniac. And Steve knew that couldn't be a good thing.

"Should I be scared?"

Eddie laughed. "Probably. What if..."

"Yeah?"

"We kissed."

Time seemed to stop for a second and then Steve was frowning at Eddie.

"What?"

"Yeah! Think about it, Steve," Eddie said, getting up. He always got restless when his brain started to work in full power. Steve thought it was kind of cute. "You can pretend this was your first kiss, so then when people tell you you can picture it and just make up some story about it."

Steve raised a brow, "I'm pretty sure that's not how first kisses work. Plus, what's in it for you? You remember your first kiss."

Eddie shrugged, throwing himself back on the couch and landing much closer to Steve than he was before. "Sure. But then I can will my brain to understand kisses don't have to mean something. This could just be a friendly kiss between two friends. Nothing else."

For some reason that didn't seem right, but Steve nodded anyway.

"Ok."

Eddie's eyes widened. "Ok?"

"Yeah, ok. Let's kiss and see what happens," Steve said. "What?"

Eddie bit his lower lip, "I don't know. I just didn't think you were gonna say yes."

Steve laughed, throwing his head back. Classic Eddie. His mouth was too big for his own good. Steve fucking loved it.

"Well, that's ok. I'll help you," Steve said, leaning in close.

He could see Eddie's eyelashes and the way his cheeks were tinted red. Steve placed a hand on the nape of his neck and heard the exact moment Eddies's breath hitched in his chest.

"Is this ok?" he asked. Eddie might talk a big talk but Steve wasn't about to cross any boundaries. If he said he was just joking Steve would pull back and pretend it had never happened.

But Eddie didn't, so Steve stayed. Close to him but still not kissing him.

"Y-yeah," Eddie said, nodding slightly. Steve smiled and buried his hand on Eddie's hair before leaning in and pressing their lips together.

The kiss was slow and sweet and Eddie was pliant on Steve's hand. For all his attitude, Steve kind of liked to shut him up like that.

Steve was about to pull back when Eddie whined in the back of his throat and pulled him close by the waist. He had no idea where all that came from but before he noticed he was straddling Eddie's lap and kissing him like his life depended on it.

Eddie tasted like cigarettes and Mountain Dew and Steve thought that combination might be his new favorite. He was so responsive as he kissed Steve back, opening his mouth and letting Steve explore as much as he wanted and all that while holding on to his hips.

Steve liked how Eddie's hands curled around him. Like they belonged there.

When it was becoming clear neither of them was interested in stopping, Steve pulled back so he could look at Eddie's face. All he could see was the pure want in his eyes.

"That's a pretty nice first kiss," Steve said playfully and Eddie snorted, squeezing at his waist.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm glad," Eddie smiled at him and it was the greatest thing ever. "I can't say the same for my part of the deal though."

Steve frowned. "What do you mean?"

Eddie let his head fall back into the couch and closed his eyes. Steve felt his heart hammering in his chest. Had Eddie hated the kiss?

When he opened his eyes there was an intensity behind them that made Steve want to get up and run.

"I can't pretend it doesn't mean anything, Stevie."

Oh.

Before he knew it, Steve was leaning in and stealing another kiss from Eddie's lips. This time when they parted Steve didn't bother moving too far from him.

"Then don't."

#steddie #idk #I just had a thought and ran with it #first kiss #steve harrington #Eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet