influencer!reader and dad!price with their little toddler, running around in matching outfits with his dad. your content is mostly attaching a pov camera. you get to see him run around and giggle and watch him grow.
any pictures you post of your son blurs out his face.
no one knows but.. well. your son is a carbon copy of price, from the hair to the smile. stands like him when they’re right next to each other. you adore your little family. you wouldn’t have it any other day.
Dottore is alive Dottore is alive Dottore is alive Dottore is alive Dottore is alive Dottore is alive Dottore is alive Dottore is alive Dottore is alive
I come here begging for [spooks] scraps please!!! Pretty please?
And before you say anything, you brought this on yourself 🤣
🧡🧡🧡
you little shit (affectionate), you 🤣🤣🤣
But...I suppose I did do that hahaha.
I've been struggling to get back on my writing horse the right way (not the best analogy, but the one i had in mind is probably a bit too graphic for pre-0715 tumblr posting lol), but I've been forcing sprints all of this week to get something out and ease myself back into writing both of my longer stories and, well, last night's was a bit special.
putting a couple of snippets (with a bit of redacting/pronoun substitution for the spoilers lol) below the button for you to enjoy hehehe. (cw: mentions of anxiety, alcohol)
[REDACTED]’s obvious anxiety was the easiest distraction for the evening, their inability to sit still far more telling than [REDACTED]’s own avoidant eye contact. By their fifth turn asking the table if anyone needed a drink, Sirius decided he could likely spare their nerves a bit by saying something, so he made his way to the kitchen, where they were stirring a coffee mug with the sort of steely determination Sirius usually saved for advanced calculus, double translations, or firing a weapon.
“Everything alright, [REDACTED]?” he asked gently, but they startled at the sound of him and the liquid in the mug sloshed over the rim onto the floor.
Sirius bent to clean it up as quiet curses echoed overheard, frowning when the bite of alcohol reached his nose after he’d wiped the spill. [REDACTED] was chewing their lip when he stood, gaze dancing between Sirius and the towel in his hand as they waited for him to say something. There were a number of things Sirius could attempt, but all of the reasonable options seemed to fall away as they watched him; they were waiting for an admonishment, he realised, and he couldn’t be the one to deliver it.
and also:
Pausing at the corner, Sirius glanced up and down the row of food items before pulling a pack of crisps from the shelf and waving it in Remus’ direction.
“Salt and vinegar, your favourite,” he offered in a sing-song, and Remus rolled his eyes.
“I’m twenty-seven, Quinn, not five,” Remus muttered, but he loosened his grip on Sirius’ hand and took the pack anyway. When he turned around a moment later with a feigned scowl, Sirius couldn't help but smile, a broad thing that made his cheeks ache as Remus rose an eyebrow drily.
“Anything else you want to suggest, or can we head home?” he asked, and Sirius snorted at the sarcasm dripping from each word.
plus an amicus snippet, for good measure:
“...really going to hold out on me?”
Sirius snorted, listening carefully to see if he could catch Remus’ response.
“It’s not holding out if I never promised to tell you anything, McKinnon.”
A fair rebuttal, the sort of line Sirius would’ve used to divert his parents from poking and prodding at things he wanted to keep to himself. He chuckled at the thought of Marlene trying to coax anything out of Remus that he didn’t want to share; the insanity of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object and expecting a result other than its own diversion.
“Your body language said more than your words, Lupin,” Marlene retorted, and Sirius bit back a grin as she continued.
“Forgive me if I noticed that you spent five minutes staring before I could get your attention.”
Pink bloomed on Remus’ cheeks, spreading like watercolor as Sirius watched from across the room. He leaned towards Marlene and the words were lost to the microphones, but Sirius was almost certain that he could imagine what Remus was saying.
Fuck off, McKinnon, or leave it alone, or can you not—something avoidant and irritated that would inevitably alert Marlene to the fact that she’d struck a nerve. Foolish of Remus to think that his stubbornness would be a deterrent.
