#ninny babbles

[giggleangels]

AUGH RANDOM RAGTIME PLAYING ON SPOTIFY WHY!?!?!

#that scared the shit out of me holy crap #ninny babbles

[goldenlaquer]

AHHHHHHH OPEN REQUESTs FOR R6 AND COD ?? BABE U ARE THE HERO WE NEED BUT DON'T DESERVE !! Smooching ur sad face... bratty teasing pining reader with Mute, maybe? I heard his exhale in his trailer and AJWOOWKSJJAK WOOF WOOF i will tug his clothes steal his ammo tie his shoelaces GRRFFFF he gives me grief by existing and i wamt to give him some back. Ummm hcs obvsly those are great. Sfw would be aweeeesome ♡ thank u for your seggsy writimg always

MAH FIRST R6S REQUEST!!!! Thank you so much for coming to the call and fueling this madness!!! I shall make him suffer 🫡

Mark "Mute" Chandar Headcanons:

He fascinates you.

His every measured exhale under that impersonal gas mask. The restrained grace of his gloved hands by his sides. The controlled turn of his head. The absolute stillness of his presence. People say he's too quiet, and you suppose he is, but you think quiet is not quite the right word to describe Mute. No, "quiet" sounds more fitting for a shy, diminutive man. Mute is not shy or diminutive, quite the opposite. He's... imposing. Yes, imposing. He fills the space with his silence, and when he speaks, with his curt words (and you've heard him talk, that commanding drawl that is his Yorkshire tongue), with his austere build, and with the efficient prowl of his body over the playing field. It captures your eyes and ensnares your attention, makes you wonder where he gets that stoic composure from. And makes you wonder then, how you can break it.

He hates you.

Or at the very least, he dislikes you, because hate is a strong word that requires time and energy—you don't think someone like Mute would bother giving time and energy into someone he deems a waste of it. He hasn't expended himself into saying as much, but it doesn’t take even a genius to guess, how he must see you.

That babbling ninny. That scurrying busybody. That gravel in his boot.

All unflattering sobriquets of yourself— but hey, you take full responsibility for it. After all, you've got no one but yourself to blame for wrapping up in a terrible mischief with him, especially with how quick you come to realize that he isn't as stone as he appears.

What is a barrier to others is a mere suggestion to you. His guarded silence is a perfect opportunity you've taken yourself to fill with chatter that you're sure grates his nerves. Cheery greetings that are unreciprocated, questions that are ignored and questions that receive one word answers that you treasure and mull over and over in your head like a smitten idiot.

(Whatcha doin? No. What's your favorite color? No. You like jazz? No. Can I see you without your mask? No.)

You breathe in temerity and breathe out obstinacy. Audacity kindles every fiber of your being, and Mute with his frosty ire is the fuel that keeps it burning. You reach out with fluttery fingers and, like a seeking child, tug at his straps and pockets for attention that he refuses to give. You poke his sides and scritch the underside his mask like you would a cat, and you are reminded of the delicate bones in your finger when he grabs it and gives a warning squeeze.

It doesn't work, but make it worse. Your offenses grow bolder still. You camp out under chairs and tables so you can tie together his shoelaces and yell boo! to his unaffected countenance. And he fishes you out and puts you back on your ass so you can go ahead and lace his boots back properly again. You steal a gun from a holster and empty out its bullets into your shirt, offering a generous exchange: one kiss per bullet.

and you pout as he fists the front of your clothes, and shakes you, metal falling off you like candy from a piñata.

You fill in some of his blanks with what you hear from others, snippets of the snippets. That he's a genius, a child prodigy of some sort. University at 14. Operator at 25. Impressive.

"You a nerd, Mute?" You have to ask, toeing the line between bravery and plain stupidity, wanting to push him into something beyond pale of his stoic irritation. And you think you come so close to that, your breath held as his head slowly turns to you. And you can sense it, the simmering red that lies under his skin— but only after a stretch of strained silence, Mute dismisses your existence all together by turning his head back away.

This is a risky and nonsensical game that you’ve initiated, one that he wants no damn part of, and one that you’re determined to see to an end.

Like a stray, you follow him around so much, one quick step behind his long, impatient strides, that Smoke jokes that Mute has picked himself up a little miss poppet of a shadow.

You enjoy this. You think that you can do this forever. Bug him until he snaps and, and kills you or whatever. Or until, one day, the front of your shirt is grabbed and you're suddenly hauled up to the height of six foot one, until you can see nothing beyond your moon eyes blinking in reflection of his dark lenses.

Piss. Off.

His low, harsh voice forms each growled word with punctured vehemence.

Oh, you've done it now. This is too much. This. The wide expanse of his armored chest flattening against your much smaller and softer form, pushing deeper into you with each heavy, angered breath, filling your ears with no room for quarter. Like this, he is not quiet. Like this, he is not stiff. No, he's alive, full of furnace heat and motion, and very much pissed off.

He means to scare you off like this, to use his height and menacing anonymity to cow you into submission, into leaving him alone.

But this is what you want. All that you have craved for and more. Everything you've worked towards built on the hope of seeing just one sliver of this scene.

So instead of cowering away, you all but arch forward into his grip, into his chest, your excited pants picking up to sync with his. And in the mirror of his mask, you see how your lips slightly part, the roundness of your shiny eyes. In that moment, you see yourself exactly as how he must see you. Just how— adoring, you look.

He stiffens— in rage? in disgust? you don't know, you don't care youdon'tcare– and his grip tightens in your shirt, your collar definitely ruined beyond repair. You hear your quivering breath pick up and feel the pulse in your throat throb as you are dragged further into him until there is only a gap the width of a piece of paper separating your trembling mouth from kissing 'X'.

(and if you let out a whimper here; what would happen?)

Apparently, a fuckin’ hell in the form of a tempestuous snarl ground out through gritted teeth is what you get.

and you are unceremoniously thrust back to Earth, your shirt’s neckline gaping horribly around your throat. Left behind to dazedly watch with a pleased smile at the retreat of his broad back and the string of colorful choice words he leaves in his wake.

You: 1. Mute: 0.

[hypertextdog]

called the phonemaid a ninny and she replied with 10 hour babbling brook asmr

#PHONEMAID

[storiesofsvu]

The Nanny With Benefits Ch 14

Poly!Barhoun x reader Warnings: language A/N: so this was originally going to have two more chapters but one I just couldn't figure out how to make it work and the other didn't have enough meat to fill out an entire ch, ya know? so, I kinda sandwiched a few things into this ch in summary form. Also just because this series is wrapped doesn't mean I won't write for this "universe" again, I'm totally open to ideas/req's for poly!barhoun w/nanny and kids! and believe me there will be a couple of little one shots, especially now that the kids are older and as they grow up! Thanks for reading friends! sorry there wasn't more smut, i hope you enjoyed!!

The passing of time was always such a strange thing. How something that happened mere weeks ago could be nothing but a distant memory while years could flash by before you even realized what was happening. The old saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’? was more than just a saying.

It happened on play dates, Isabella and Damian pouting for five more minutes at the park before having to go home.

It happened on the rare days when Lucia would have the kids, leaving you time to catch lunch with Rita and Rafael, the date always cut short when one of their phones interrupted the meal.

But mostly it happened as the three of you watched the kids grow up.

The days of toddler babbling and stumbling like a tiny drunk human through the apartment were over. So were the days of high chairs, being fed, and super long naptimes during the afternoons.

Now you were deep into the thick of it. Damian choosing a week that Rafael was away at a conference to refuse to speak anything but pretty fluent Spanish, causing Rita to nearly rip her hair out, having absolutely no clue what he wanted. It didn’t help that he was young enough his pronunciation wasn’t great, so as you and Rita tried to translate to Lucia, there was no saving grace. Each day that went Isabella wanted to be more and more like her mother, and you often heard her clunking through the apartment attempting to wear Rita’s heels.

Last year, the naptimes no longer became your concern at all. And suddenly, your days were very freed up as both kids were now in school full time. Half the time you were completely unsure of what to do with your time, simply keeping the apartment cleaned and meals prepped for the week. By the time Damian reached grade three, Is, a year behind in in grade two, you were barely a nanny anymore, simply another member of their functioning family. And just like you’d discussed all those years ago, the kids saw nothing weird about it, though you still did keep most of the PDA private.

The apartment was a little hectic this morning, it was finally summer break from grades two/three and everyone was a little antsy to get out of the house and up to the Hampton’s. Naturally, you’d had bags packed for at least a week prior with everything you’d needed, lists of all the last minute things for everyone. Breakfast was hot and ready when people came into the kitchen, and the coffee pot was constantly brewing.

Damian was currently sitting on the floor in front of the tv trying to figure out which of his video games he wanted to bring with him, humming and hawing through his choices, tossing the discarded ones anywhere he wanted. Rita let out a scoff of a sigh as she glanced from the kitchen over to him, pouring herself another cup of coffee,

“Damian sweetheart, please put those away. You know they don’t belong on the floor.”

“I gotta go through them first.”

“Well you need to hurry up and choose alright? The driver’s going to be here any minute.”

“I cancelled the driver.” You swept in, pecking at her cheek softly, smiling happily as she instantly relaxed at the intimate action, “why bother paying someone for an hour drive and then be stuck without a car out there?”

“’Sides…” Damian called from the living room, “ninny’s a better driver than him anyways.”

“You’re just saying that because she lets you choose the music.” Rafael laughed from his spot on the couch.

“You sayin’ you don’t vibe with Encanto?” You teased from the kitchen and he scoffed. In front of him on a cushion on the floor was Isabella, who had demanded her hair be put into French braids. She knew that there was a high chance of swimming as soon as they got out to the beach and wanted to have wavy hair for the next week.

“When it’s on repeat for three days? No. not at all.” Raf laughed, distracted from his task.

“Ow! Papi!” Is winced, her hand shooting up to swat at her dad’s hand as he tugged too hard.

“Sorry chica.” He leant down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “I’m still learning…”

“You need to go back to practicing on barbies…” you deadpanned as you had crossed through the space, handing off the cup of coffee in your hand and nudging him out of the way.

“I knew I should’ve asked Mom.” Isabella grumbled, rubbing at the sore spot on her head while you shifted behind her on the couch.

“I got’chu pierogi.” You kissed her head gently before swiftly making two braids with ease, wrapping the hair elastics around the ends, “there ya go.” You nudged at her to get up, “go grab your bags and we can put them in the car.” Standing from the couch you redirected to Damian, “okay bud, pick five games tops! We’ve got lots of other stuff to do out there, and make sure the rest are put back so you know where they are when we come home.”

“Okay.” He mumbled, scurrying to shift through the piles.

“Don’t forget your bags.” You warned and he scrambled off down the hallway leaving you to turn back to Rita and Rafael. “What?”

“Why do they listen to you better than they listen to us?” Rafael asked and you chuckled.

“For the same reason the two of you are galivanting around courtrooms with belts around your necks and fake knife demonstrations.”

“I—” Rita attempted to defend it but simply let out a huff, shooting you a playful glare before the kids came tearing back into the room ready for the car.

**

It was easy settling into the Hampton’s house, you all had specific roles to fill within the first few hours of being out there, and everyone knew exactly where they belonged. Once the kids were in swimsuits and beach appropriate attire, they were bolting off through the sand to the ocean with you at their heels. Rita set about the house, unpacking bags, making sure sheets were fresh and freshening the place up a bit while settling in and starting to unwind from work. Rafael did a quick inventory of the kitchen before darting off to the grocery store and a few specialty stores to make sure that the fridge and pantry were fully stocked.

 By late afternoon the kids were thankfully, starting to get tuckered out and would easily be coaxed back to the house for some lounging around and snacks. After a quick shower, you’d help Rafael start on dinner, shooing Rita away from the kitchen, urging her to get as many kiddo snuggles as she could before they were too cool for that kinda stuff.

The evenings were spent with family games, video, board or card variety it didn’t matter. Sometimes it would be out on the back porch around the firepit, occasionally other families from the street would join in. There were nights that lead to smores and roasted marshmallows over the fire, glasses of wine and beer for the big kids.

It was exactly what everyone needed. And a very well deserved break from the city that you took each and every year. Throughout the summer, there was always ample time for the grown ups to sneak off on a group date, or for little one on ones. Rita let her soft side show when she would take you out on the yacht for dinner, docking and sending the staff away as the sun set. Curling you into her side on one of the loungers you’d simply lie together sharing stories and watching the stars until it really was too chilly and you return home for more snuggles.

It was halfway through August, when the feeling of returning back to Manhattan began to sink in. Not that it really mattered, the kids were still stoked to spend time with their city friends and check out the summer fun activities New York had. It was more on the grown up side of things that the three of you had to make sure everything was set up for school, start to make plans of back-to-school shopping while Rita and Rafael slipped back into attorney work mode. Instead of fully living out of the Hampton’s house, clean laundry would now find its way folded into suitcases, rather than buying fresh groceries every week, you tried to make do with what was already in the kitchen.

After a very well received taco night, the kitchen got cleaned, nighttime baths were had, pyjamas were put on and everyone was gathered into the living room for movie night. The snacks were being passed around as the movie played, and everyone had their own little commentary to put in. As the night wore on, and only after lots of puppy dog eyes, Mom and Dad agreed to a second movie, the snuggly phase began to set in and everyone was thankful for the lavishly large sectional.

“We can’t go to bed yet…” Isabella murmured through a very heavy yawn at the end of the second movie, practically burying herself into your arms and you chuckled.

“I dunno pierogi, seems like you’re already asleep.”

“No…” Rafael mused with a soft smile, “I think she’s right.” He nudged at the girl gently from her other side, beginning to tickle at her ribs, pulling a squeal of a giggle that morphed into a fit of laughter as she shot up from the couch to escape it, “why don’t you go find that present for ninny?”

“A present for me?” You raised a brow as Is jumped back to the couch, grabbing Damian’s hand and they bolted off down the hallway. Before you could even ask a question to either of your partners, the kids were back, a small gift bag between them. “And what’s this?”

“I told Momma you should get a ri”—Isabella started only to get shoved in the side from Damian, earning him a scolding from Rita.

“This is from all of us!” Damian proudly held the bag up, extending it to you and you took it with a gentle hand.

“Alright.” Your hand delved into the bag, pulling out a small box, glancing around at your audience before you creaked it open. Inside lay a relatively dainty gold band, a tiny portion of it was made up of a little chain, a mini charm of some sort that you couldn’t quite make out yet. Shifting it between your fingers you picked it up, examining it.

“This is gorgeous…”

“There’s an I for Isabella!” The girl shrieked, then promptly clasped her hands over her mouth since she had been unable to hold it in.

You let out a little chuckle at her antics, examining the band. There indeed was an ‘I’ inscribed on the band, along with a ‘D’ and two ‘R’s complete with your initial. Upon further inspection, you noticed the little charm was an infinity symbol, complete with a few small diamonds.

“Infinity?” This time you raised a brow between Rafael and Rita, who shared an affectionate glance, squeezing at the other before Rafael spoke.

“Well, the two of us were talking, well, we had been for a while now. You’re part of this family, and you’re kind of stuck with us. You’ve made things so incredibly easy and wonderful over the past five years and we wanted to make sure that you knew just how much you’re appreciated and loved.”

“What he’s trying to get at.” Rita smirked, “is that we want to be with you forever, and this is the closet thing to a legal partnership we can get. Then we talked to the kids, and they agree…”

“We wanna keep you f’ever!” Is interjected and Rafael laughed.

“I dunno if keep is the right word chica.”

“Well we want you to stay forever.” Damian corrected, rolling his eyes at his sister in the most Rafael way he could, “we love you.”

“Guys…” you glanced between them a misting of tears in your eyes at just how much this meant. That not only had they opened their home to you as a caretaker, but Rita and Rafael had opened up their marriage to you down the road. Now, the entire family loved you as much as you loved them and they actually wanted you to stick around forever.

“You’re gon’ say yes, right?” Isabella prodded and you laughed.

“How could I even think of saying no?”

There was a chorus of cheers from the kids who instantly leapt up on top of you on the couch, attempting to out bear hug the other, Rita barely managing to grab the bracelet before it ended up lost in the couch cushions. Once the little ones had settled down, Is started to whine for you to put it on, knowing that that finalized everything and Rita was quick to clasp it around your wrist, leaving a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

Small I love you’s and tender kisses were shared, eyes full of adoration and hearts full of every single ounce of love that you could ever imagine. It wasn’t a surprise at all when the kids dragged everyone up to standing, and despite being exhausted earlier, it was time for a celebration now. Damian managed to turn on the google home, skipping through songs until he deemed the right one was playing, making sure that everyone had someone to dance with. Isabella clung to her mother’s hip, arms flailing in time to the music with a wide grin on her face while everyone swapped partners every couple of verses, laughter bouncing off the walls, smiles wide on their faces.

Eventually, the excitement of the celebration was wearing thing, Isabella stifling a yawn into Rita’s shoulder and Damian insisting on being picked up into your arms as you swayed against Rafael. Bedtime soon followed, stories read, kids tucked in, kisses and goodnights exchanged as they smiled sleepily, knowing that you were here to stay.

Back in the living room, Rafael had poured out fresh glasses of wine for the adults, and a small, quiet cheers was exchanged before another set of more tender, loving kisses were shared. You’d had a feeling that you weren’t going to be let go when they continued to keep you on as the kids had gotten older, to the age that they really only need supervision from three to five pm. Not to mention, the whole other aspect of your relationship, but you hadn’t realized just how long they’d wanted you to stick around.

That night out in the Hampton’s solidified your relationship, you talked over a number of things questioning the openness of their marriage when you’d met them and everyone agreed that it was now closed. You were all they needed, all your kids needed, and certainly all the family needed. You more than happily snuggled in between Rita and Rafael as a new movie started to scroll on the tv, your new bracelet sparkling in the candlelight. Never in a million years did you think that accepting a job would land you with such an incredible life, yet here you were, two incredible partners and two adorable kids, all who loved you more than you could imagine.

It was safe to say you’d won the jackpot.  

_______________ @thatesqcrush @alexusonfire @swimmingstudentchaos891 @holycrapraewth @1-lindsay83 @lannister-slings-and-arrows @witches-unruly-heart @melk917 @stone-hearted-seymour @ms-calhoun @drduckthief @jamiethetrans @bumblebear30 @natasha-danvers @bookpillows @lawandorderuswnt @whimsicallymad @poisonedcrowns

#barhoun #rita calhoun #rafael barba #law and order svu #rita calhoun x rafael barba x reader #poly!barhoun #poly!barhoun x reader #svu fic #law and order #the nanny with benefits

[enviedear]

secrets that you keep → peter parker

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in a consolation trip back to europe, the kids of midtown high are eager to have a normal vacation, finally. but you on the other hand are on a mission. something weird is going on with peter parker, and you’re going to figure it out.

PAIRING ⌙ peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“-smaller group than before, but we’ll still have fun guys. the tour company has made precautions for you kids. there will not be a repeat of last year.” mr. harrington babbles.

you sink lower into the bus seat. you did not want to be back in europe. truthfully you want to be anywhere but here. wherever, here, was. no one knew. cell service went out about five miles back and the bus driver didn’t speak english. 

“yeah guys, don’t worry. this trip is going to be ten times worse than the last. it’s already started bad since we don't know where we ARE!” flash yells, running a hand down his face.

mr. harrington tries to calm him and the rest of the bus down, to no avail.

you block out the commotion and stare out of the bus window. grass, farm, cattle, shack, more grass, more farm. and not one single cell tower in sight. this is it, you think, this is how it ends, stranded in a foreign country with the most annoying people you’ve ever known.

“guys, GUYS! my service is back,” betty yelps. “it says we’re in wiveliscombe, and that it’s going to be three hours until we reach london.”

her words are met with groans.

“at least we have cell service now.” jokes peter parker, who’s sat in the seat across the aisle from you. he’s cute and nice, but weird. last year’s trip he had about a thousand excuses as to why he’d leave the group and if it happened this year, you were gonna figure out why. no matter what it took.

“mhm, and since we have access to the endless possibilities of the internet again, we don’t have to talk..” you huff.

“i.. sorry. i didn’t-” you cut him off by placing your earbuds back into your ears and turning the volume up. 

something about peter irked your nerves in a way you couldn’t understand. maybe it was the way he knew fucking everything. maybe it was the way his body became incomprehensibly fit in such a short period of time. you really couldn’t understand that. even went as far as to do research on steroids, but found there was no way he could be using those. most probably it was the nonsense of his idiotic excuses. he might be able to fool everyone else, but not you. you knew there had to be something going on.

he and his stupid cute little brown curls, button nose, and six pack were under your firm watch.

by the time the bus reached the hotel the sun was beginning to set. jet lagged and in need of a long shower, you’re one of the first to fly into the hotel.

“It's me and you for the next week.” mj smiles, holding out a room key for you. truthfully, you really liked mj. she was cool and liked a lot of the same things as you. but she had one fatal flaw in your eyes, she used to date peter parker.

it was a short lived relationship, almost everyone saw it as a fling. peter and mj were just… too different. but they remain close friends.

it’s not like you were jealous... just, a tad bit jealous. besides, that ship had sailed and your goal wasn’t to end up like mj on the last trip to europe. no, you had other plans.

“cool. we can watch murder mysteries tonight and grab some snack from the convenience store down the street.” you grin.

the rooming situation for everyone else took entirely too long. it started with flash being upset that his room requirements weren’t being met. he wanted nothing to do with a roommate. this, caused his previous roommate, zander, to object to rooming with someone so, ‘coddled’.

took a full twenty minutes to resolve the issue. 

“mj, you still wanna visit the national gallery tomorrow?” asks the one and only peter parker.

“uh, yeah. y/n, wanna join?” she questions.

you were ready to object, finding it far more intriguing to stay in and sleep but then you remembered your little mission. if you wanted to figure out what peter parker’s deal was, you’d have to be around him. 

“sure. nothing better to do.” you shrug, peering straight into peter’s eyes. 

“i, uh- i thought we’d get an early start to the day. ned wants to go on the jack the ripper tour, so that gives us until one to look through the museum.” peter rambles.

“alright, me and y/n will meet you two down here around ten thirty.” mj clarifies.

“see you then. night mj,” he looks to you. “goodnight y/n.”

you narrow your eyes at him, “sleep tight parker. busy day tomorrow.”

with that you and mj enter your room, ready to sleep off the jet lag. and soon enough, sleep carries you into her open arms, preparing you for the day ahead.

the next morning consists of peter and ned rushing in and out of their room. the duo forgetting nearly everything they needed for the day. it was extremely annoying. but you’d take watching the two ninnies scramble about over this tour you’re forcing yourself to get through right now.

the national gallery was proving to be a bore. maybe it was you. or maybe it was the dull ass tour guide. either way, you’re finding it hard to focus on any of these artworks around you.

“this is the arnolfini portrait. it’s the work of jan van eyck and it is believed to depict an italian merchant named giovanni di nicolao arnolfini. this painting has remained in the national gallery since 1843.” the tour guide drones.

you peer up at the art, searching for anything to interest you about it. you try to focus of the dark green of the woman’s dress, then the small dog, but nothing about this art is appealing to you. instead, you find the whispered conversation going on behind you to be much more intriguing.

“ned how am i going to make it all the way to japan and back here before the ripper tour?” peter grumbles.

japan?

“i don’t know, but i really don’t want to go on a tour of the most infamous and creepy serial killers of all time without my best friend.” ned whispers.

“but mj will be there, and.. y/n.” peter assures.

“great. they both creep me out. that’s like, two extra loads of creepy added onto the already creepy tour.” ned huffs.

“dude, i have to go… mr. stark is waiting on me.” peter pleads.

you hear ned give an annoyed, “fine.”

you wait a few seconds before turning around to face peter’s friend.

“where did peter run off to?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“uhhhh- the bathroom. the uh, hotel bathroom. yeah, must have been those tomatoes he ate with his breakfast today.” ned gulps.

“mhm. well i think i’ll meet up with him. he shouldn’t walk all the way back alone.” you smirk, shoving past ned and running the direction peter went.

it took a good minute to find him outside, the boy running into a bakery. but once your eyes find him, you rush straight in, right behind him. eyes narrowed and full of questions. 

the brown haired boy quickly enters a bathroom and you grin. 

no escaping now, parker.

you wait outside the bathroom eagerly. only for minutes to pass. no sound escapes the room and you furrow your brows.

you knock on the door, no answer. annoyed you open the door, only to be met with an empty bathroom. 

an empty bathroom with an opened window.

what the fuck?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“we’ve been upgraded!” mr. harrington gleams, looking down at our tired faces.

“last time we were upgraded we almost died.” betty sighs.

“ah- what did i say, we’re not going to repeat last year,” harrington retorts. “now...how do you guys feel about paris?”

well those words certainly livened up the breakfast table. train tickets are soon passed around, and you study yours, spoonful of yogurt still in your mouth.

“hey y/n, mj and i are gonna go to the louvre when we get there,” ned grins. “wanna come with?”

you chuckle, “another museum? nah, i’m good.”

mj quirks a brow at you, “this museum is home to the mona lisa. it’s not just any museum.”

“and the mona lisa is not just any painting… it’s an ugly one.” you huff.

ned guffaws at you.

“honestly, i might skip out too.” peter says.

you turn to face him, “great. you and i can explore paris while mj and ned explore another museum.”

he shifts in his seat, “i dunno i was thinking of-”

mj cuts him off, “i think that’s a great idea y/n. don’t you, peter? you remember what harrington said.. no repeat of last year.”

her eyes are cold as she awaits his answer and he fidgets more in his seat.

“i just think it might be best for me to stay here… ya know in case mr. stark needs anything.”

you roll your eyes, “dude, you’re just an intern. what could he possibly need that his other ten thousand interns can’t do.”

“technically he only has like six other… interns.” peter mumbles.

“but uh.. they can handle whatever mr. stark needs from you. i mean they’ve been av- uh, interns, for a while.” ned says, eyes pleading with his friend.

peter sighs before smiling at you, “alright, me and you versus paris.”

no peter parker, me and myself versus your dirty little secret.

somehow you got to sit next to peter in an empty train car for the ride to paris. and holy shit.. could he talk.

his eyes did have a way of lighting a fire inside you as he talked but, that, was not the point.

it was between an empty car with peter or full car sat between flash and harrington.

peter is always better than the latter.

“-anyways, how’d you convince your parents to let you go back to europe?” he asks.

“i didn’t. they made me.” you say simply.

peter slumps into his seat a little, “uh, why?”

“because when they were younger they traveled the world. i dunno, i guess they expect me to want to as well.” 

“oh. well, are you enjoying it so far.” he asks.

i’d enjoy it more if i could figure out your damned secret, parker.

“sure.”

and then, finally, peter is quiet. 

but not for long, as the train comes to a screeching halt.

over the train speakers comes a booming voice, “veuillez rester calme. le train s'est arrêté en raison d'un dysfonctionnement du moteur.”

your body tenses and you look at peter, “please tell me you understand french?”

“a little.. i dont think we need to worry. they said it’s just an engine malfunction.” he nods, looking around the train car.

you try to breathe. 

everything is okay. there’s no evil robots coming to destroy a train car with two innocent teenagers. that’s so pre civil war. just breathe. 

suddenly a loud bang is heard from the car behind you. not just any bang… a gunshot.

“holy shit.” you whisper, stiff as a board.

peter on the other hand is rummaging through his bag.

“parker! what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss.

“i.. just trust me okay? when i tell you to run… run.”

you look at him with a scowl, “i’m not going to be the sacrificial pig for slaughter, asswipe.”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m going to run with you. we’re going to find an empty car and then… wait for spiderman.” 

you blink. the kid’s gone insane.

“peter. listen, i know coping with your own inevitable death can be hard but, spiderman.. really?” you groan.

another loud bang comes from the car behind you. 

peter looks at you, taking your hand in his. 

the door to your car bursts open.

“run!” peter yelps, rushing into the next car, the gunmen not far enough behind.

“holy shit i’m gonna die.” you scream.

peter throws something at the gunmen when the two of you enter the next car, separating the two of you from the monsters.

but the kid didn’t throw just anything at them. motherfucker threw a damn door. a metal train door.

by the time you process the information, peter is pulling you into a cramped bathroom.

“i don’t have much time but basically, hi, i’m spiderman. those guys back there are people tony stark pissed off really bad and i need you to hide in here until i fix this issue.”

with that he pulls his jacket off revealing the spiderman suit you’re so used to seeing on the news.

“that’s your secret? this entire time i’ve been hanging around you trying to figure it out, and it turns out you’re spiderman. i would have thought anything before fucking spiderman.” you dwell, eyes wide.

he slips his mask on, “wait, you only hung out with me because you thought i had a secret? i mean.. i did but-”

another loud bang interrupts him, “nevermind. we’ll talk about this later. stay here and don’t tell anyone what i just told you.”

you nod, and watch him exit the bathroom.

so much for “not a repeat of last time.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“at least it wasn’t witches this time.” mr. dell sighs.

your entire fourth period groans. 

“what! our world is infested with witches now. i don’t even know why i’m teaching science. i’m gonna turn around one day and suddenly i’ll be teaching witchcraft.”

your eyes return back to your desk, staring a hole into the old wood. your trance is broken by a crumpled piece of paper. you roll your eyes and turn your attention to peter, who after europe has been watching you like a hawk.

you open the paper to see, ‘listen, mr. stark said i need to get written evidence that you won’t spill the beans. please sign below.’

you grimace but sign at the bottom of the paper and hand it back to your new ninny friend.

that’s right. friend. despite being one of the most annoying people on the planet, with the weirdest secret ever.. peter was nice. he was really nice. he liked almost everything you did and listened intently to whatever you had to say.

“earth to y/n.” his voice calls from beside you.

“oh? is class over?” you ask.

he nods and holds his arm out to you. you take it and give him a half smile.

you may find peter parker to be the weirdest dude ever, but you can’t deny that the secret superhero is starting to flood your mind. you never thought you’d be the one to say it, but peter parker is the coolest weirdo you’ve ever met.

and besides, your mission was a success. you figured out his secret and obtained a friend along with it.

well, friend, until you could complete your newest mission.

telling him you like him. like, a lot.

#—myfics ! #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x enemy!reader #peter parker x enemy!reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman far from home #x reader #peter parker

[durmstrange]

Muse - Fred Weasley

Hello and Happy Thursday!

Word count: 1,585

The snow that laid on the ground was up around your ankles, which made it slightly difficult for you to wade through it as you and your closest friends made your way towards Hogsmeade on this particularly snowy day.  Your arm was looped through Ginny Weasley’s, who was three years younger than you but just as mature and close as her older brothers, Fred and George.  Fred and George were the same age as you, and ever since the second day of first year, they had been your best friends.  

There was an obvious tension between Fred and yourself, something everyone knew too much about.  Everyone knew of Fred’s undeniable feelings and devotion to you and they also knew of the same feelings you held for him.  Both of you refused to believe it when others insisted about how the other felt.  Even their mother, Molly Weasley constantly pestered Fred as to when he would tell you how he felt.  It was a classic case of skinny love.  Neither of you were particularly shy, but when it came to your feelings, you were both ignorant.  Nonetheless, the two of you showed all the love you held for one another in your own ways.  

As you walked with your arm in Ginny’s, the twins were babbling on about the possible treats and prank items they could produce, with much help, and you smiled at their ideas.  They were creative, to say the least, and you were always so inspired by how they acted and how persistent they were to make their own business.  

Ginny glanced at you with a small smile as you pushed your hair from your eyes.  “They seem to know what they are talking about, don’t you think?”  She asked you as the four of you walked through the gates of Hogsmeade.  

You ducked under a low hanging pine tree branch that was covered in snow.  “To say the least,” you agreed with a small smile playing on your lips.  

George glanced over at the two of you.  “What do you think you two beautiful ladies are discussing on this fine winter day?”  He asked in a cocky voice and moved closer to you, draping his arm around your shoulders.  

Fred moved to Ginny and did the same.  “Yes, what is it you two are discussing without us?”  He pressed further with a smile that made your stomach flutter.  

“Nothing, you ninnies,” Ginny told them and ducked from under Fred’s arm, walking ahead of them.  “Georgie, why don’t you come with me and do some shopping?”  She asked in a amused voice as she glanced back with a wink to George, causing you to slightly panic.  They had obviously planned something.  

George raised his eyebrows and looked to you and Fred.  “That seems like a wondrous idea, Ginerva.  We will be seeing you two later, perhaps?”  George cooed as you came to a stop, sending a burning glare to the two of them.

They ran off like giddy children as you stared at Fred with a flustered expression on your face.  The same amused look as Ginny and George crossed Fred’s face as he took George’s spot and draped his arm around your shoulders.  “Well, it seems as if it is just you and me, love.  Don’t be so heartbroken about it,” Fred laughed and began leading you towards Honeydukes.  

“I am not heartbroken.  I am thrilled to be with you, actually,” you told him in a stubborn voice, causing a wide smile to spread on his face.  

Fred nodded his head.  “That is what I love to hear.”  He opened the door to Honeydukes for you.  You wandered in, admiring all the sweets, as you always did.  You had the biggest sweet tooth and being in Honeydukes was always a temptation to you.  It was flooded with other students from Hogwarts, so you grabbed Fred’s hand as you lead him towards the back of the store.  

“Have you ever had these?” You asked him as you reached up and pulled your favorite lolly down from a higher shelf.  

Fred examined it and shook his head.  “No, I can’t say that I have, but I am sure I will soon,” he flirted openly and gave you a wink, causing you to blush and roll your eyes.  That was one thing that made you feel insecure about Fred: he flirted with everyone and anything.  That was what you saw, at least.  In reality, you were the only one he flirted with, even if you didn’t see it.  

“I suppose we will see,” you flirted back with a wink.  Fred beamed at you as you did this, causing you to roll your eyes.  You did that often, replying in the same manner as him and flirting shamelessly.

A small laugh came from you as you gathered a few more sweets and paying for them as Fred wandered the shop, waiting for you.  “Where to next, Freddie?”  You asked him with your bag clutched in your hand.  

Fred pretended to think for a moment with his finger on his chin, acting out as usual.  “How about the Three Broomsticks?”  He asked enthusiastically, causing you to roll your eyes once more.  

“That works fine for me.”  You nodded to him and he took your hand lightly, leading you through the bustling crowd towards the Three Broomsticks.  His hand in yours was incredibly warm and an oddly comforting feeling.  The contact made your heart flutter.

Once inside, he lead you to a rather secluded booth and ordered two butterbeers quickly.  You watched him closely as he talked to the waitress, remaining playful and kind, just how Fred was.  You took the lolly from your bag and opened it, enjoying it all the same.  

Fred turned his attention to you.  “Have you heard that Sirius Black was spotted not far from here?”  He asked you as he watched your every movement.  

You nodded and frowned.  “It is a terrible feeling to know that he is on the loose.  And poor Harry,” you said softly as the butterbeers arrived rather quickly.  

Fred sipped his immediately.  “Is that your muse?”  He asked you out of the blue.  His face was blank and not amused, which was rather unlike him.  

With an odd look, you tilted your head to the side. “Pardon?”  You asked confusedly.  Muse?  Who could he possibly believe your muse would be, other than him?

“Harry Potter,” Fred answered nonchalantly.  You laughed loudly, and the serious look on his face made you stop immediately.  

You knitted your eyebrows together as you sucked on your lolly.  “You have to be joking?”  You asked and Fred shook his head with an annoyed look on his face.  “Harry Potter is not my muse,” you told Fred sternly and crossed your arms over your chest.  

“Who is then?”  He asked with a smirk and an eyebrow raised.  

You could have choked on your lolly.  Blood rushed to your face and you looked away.  “I have no muse,” you muttered and glanced down at your butterbeer.  

Fred hummed and watched you with a small smirk on his gorgeous features.  “No muse?  Why is it your face grew red, then?”  He challenged you and you shifted.

How were you supposed to tell him that it was true, you had no muse, because the only muse you longed for was sitting in the booth with you.  You looked down at the table and hung your head.  “Who even uses the term ‘muse’?  Can we discuss something else?”  You pleaded and looked away in your flustered state. 

Fred laughed at you, but nodded all the same.  “Suit yourself.  What does that taste like?”  He asked and pointed at your lolly.  

For a split second, the most cunning and evil thought crossed your mind.  Could you do it?  Could you pull it off and make him the flustered one?  Your courage gathered itself up and stood high and mighty as you spoke.  “Would you like to find out?”  You asked him as you tilted your head to the side.  

With wide eyes and a face more red than his hair, Fred’s mouth fell open in the slightest bit as he stared at you.  You took your opportunity and took his bottom lip between both of your own, kissing him steadily and lovingly.  You dropped your lolly onto the table and put your hands on either side of his face, holding him in place.  Within a short second, Fred kissed you back with twice as much passion and force, causing you to pull away with a laugh.  

Fred laughed as well, flustered and red, but smiling wider than you have ever seen.  “Tastes quite good,” he said with a laugh, making you giggle quietly.  

“Thought it would be nice if you experienced it first hand.”  You murmured and sipped you butterbeer as calmly as you could.  

Fred nodded and thought for a moment.  “I don’t think I got a proper tasting, can I try again?”  He asked with a cheeky smile on his lips.  

You rolled your eyes at him and fought the smile on your lips.  “Hm, I’m not so sure.  I don’t want to spoil you, after all.”   

Fred chuckled at your words.  You could tell how truly happy he was and that in itself made you happy.  “Does that mean I can be your muse, then?”  He asked you as his arm wrapped around you protectively, like he always had.  

“You always have been, my dear.”  

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fanfiction #Fred Weasley fanfction #Fred Weasley one shot #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley preferences #hogwarts #harry potter #Harry Potter fanfic #Harry Potter fanfiction

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Boys and sticks - Chapter 9

Fandom: Hobbit (College AU)

Words: 1,5 k

Characters : @linasofia x Thorin, me x Ori

Warning: smut (and insecurities), bad words (1 methinks)

Previous chapters

“You can slip into your pyjama undisturbed.”

“I do not own a pyjama; I…” He stopped and I cranked one eye open a tiny bit to look at the same – surprisingly well-cut – white shirt over formless pants; at least, he had taken off his shoes. “I can leave?” I offered, but he shook his head.

“I don’t know why I’m being such a ninny about it, we’ve been at the lake together and all, but…” Again, he fell silent.

I had troubled him, I realised, he was terribly overwhelmed by the situation and my presence and there was nothing that came to mind to make it better. “Do you want to talk about it?” I tried another avenue and strategy.

“I am not a lady’s men, never have been…and…I’ve been working up the courage to ask you to come to the game – that will now be miserable to watch, I’m sure – and bring Tova because Thorin has been training like an idiot to impress her if she was to come…” He sighed and took a deep breath. “And then, there you were, sitting on that wall, and everything went too fast and now, you’re here and I don’t know what to do with my hands anymore.”

The words fell quick and hard like hail, battering my senses and challenging my befuddled mind to keep up, because I couldn’t help feeling like I was missing something important in his frantic babbling.

“Hold up!” I breached the distance between us and settled my hands gently on his shoulders. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable,” I promised in a low voice, but he wouldn’t even meet my eyes, fidgeting with the seam of his shirt.

“I should just leave,” I murmured, dejected myself by his unwillingness to engage, and turned to the door. So what if I was to walk across campus in my underwear and a borrowed shirt – without a bra – like a common drunk?

I heard him take another deep breath and I thought that if he brought up my safety again, I’d break his nose then and there; he was an impossible person to have a crush on and I was growing increasingly tired with my own frustration.

“Please…don’t leave!” He sounded utterly miserable now; I let my forehead clunk against the closed door.

“You sure know how to break a girl’s heart, Ori, don’t you?” I sighed and flinched when his warm hands gripped my arms just beneath the shoulders from behind and pulled me around ever so gently.

“What do you mean?” His eyes were huge and pitch black now; he was standing so close to me that I could see the golden specks dancing like stars in the night sky and blurring into streaks of light.

I had known a thousand and one things about them before tonight – or at least, I had thought I did – but the fact that they were actually honourable and chivalrous had never dawned on me; I should have known, it had been weeks of us throwing ourselves in their path and more often than not, they had been looking out for us.

When we had left the party, they had followed to make sure we were alright; they had taken me to my room, believing I was taken ill all of a sudden; Ori had invited me to his room even though he was painfully uncomfortable…

“Nothing, let’s just go to bed. You take the wall, because otherwise, you’ll just fall out of it trying to scoot away from me,” I moaned and made an inviting gesture towards the piece of furniture.

He turned off the light and the faint hint of cinnamon intensified. His hand slid up my arm as he passed by me and shuffled into bed, probably, to let me know that I could climb in right after him.

His bed was warm and comfortable – a clear amelioration compared to the old couch in the library – especially as it also contained him, radiating heat into my shoulder. “You have a huge bruise on your thigh, I am so sorry,” he whispered.

“Worth it!” I grinned into the darkness, spreading my legs just a tad until my skin made contact with his.

“Why me? I have been wondering ever since this afternoon. Why would you come out to invite me?” His voice sounded brittle with insecurity in the inky blackness pressing down on my senses. This was not the moment to confess that I slept with a tiny light because I was afraid of the complete darkness, was it?

“Jia? I’m serious.”

I could literally hear him gnawing on his lower lip; I could see the flustered blush rushing up his face; I could feel the heat intensifying, and I was so lost in my mental contemplation that I forgot to answer right away.

“Can you really not guess?” I jeered – weakly – after a moment.

“You’re having me on? It’s not very nice, you know? I mean, it’s really not my fault, but I am not looking to get into a Carrie-scenario here.”

My gut kinked – and not in the good way – when I heard what he apparently thought me capable of.

“Wow, that’s just plain dumb, dude!” I could no longer hold back my annoyance and frustration.

“If I didn’t know that you seem to dislike him, I’d think that Thranduil has set us up. I mean, why would a girl like you want to invite a guy like me to a party?” He sounded like this was something he had wanted to get out for a long time.

I slipped my hand under the blanket and intertwined my fingers with his wordlessly.

“Thranduil has nothing at all to do with anything. I promise,” I breathed, turning towards him and spitballing the distance, ended up with my lips pressed against his temple.

During the screening of some Netflix-show or other

Tova forgot every two minutes who those people on the screen of her laptop were and if she had already seen them before or if this was the first scene they were in.

She was lying wedged between Thorin’s arm and his chest, her hand ruffling through the whorls of soft, secret hair tenderly and her leg draped across his while his fingers danced along her spine. It was weirdly comfortable and definitely seductive to feel his body this close to hers, his scent filling her head, and his caresses setting her skin aflame.

“Are you watching this?” She asked after seeing another – completely foreign – person launch into a long soliloquy.

“No, I’m wondering if I sound too desperate if I ask you to go to dinner with me tomorrow,” he grinned back, pressing a kiss onto the crown of her head.

“You don’t. I’d make do with a Twix right now and call it an official dinner date.” Tova grimaced which made Thorin laugh. Without much ado, she swung herself on top of him, pressing him into the mattress, and covering his smirk with her warm mouth. He shifted underneath her, and his hand cupped her right ass-cheek gently, the thumb brushing lightly against the delicious curve.

Surging up against her, he panted: “You see, it’s really not that I don’t want to…”

“Hush, you idiot. You’ll have your dinner and your fancy-schmancy routine, don’t worry.” Tova’s lips curled into a liquid smile on top of his as she ground down on him in tight, slow circles that reduced him to a trembling, moaning mess within seconds.

“May I?” He asked, grabbing the clasp of her bra tentatively in one hand and when she nodded, she was surprised to learn that – despite his alleged lack of experience – Thorin got it open in no time.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighed when his huge hand flew around her body to cup one of her breasts gingerly, that thumb that had been her best friend that night grazing over her nipple ever so sweetly.

Tova’s head fell back as she sat up – straddling the poor man – her hands clawed into his chest to give him better access.

Bare-chested and panting, they enjoyed toeing the line, their underwear a swampy cesspool of sin and obvious longing and yet, the agreement that sex would have to wait until after dinner was incontrovertible at this point.

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow! Fuck the team!” Thorin growled, bucking against her frantically, not even caring that they must have looked so ridiculous; all he could think of was the enticing, warm, moist heat seeping through his underwear and the tantalising friction of her grinding down on his cock.

“Hmmm, there’s only one member of the team I intend to fuck,” Tova retorted breathlessly, pressing kisses onto the side of his neck all the way down to his navel. If – at the beginning – he had bemoaned the loss of that delightful pressure, the feeling of her naked chest sliding down his body, in time with her mouth leaving a trail of burning gasoline, made more than up for it.

“So, tell me again about the things you are familiar with already?” She prompted Thorin as she slid her fingers up his thigh, infiltrating them between the fabric of his boxers and his skin.

#thorin oakenshield #ori #fanfiction #the hobbit #linasofia #me #smut #2 women #0.5 success #discussions in the dark #netflix and chill

[angelqueen04]

Hamliza Month, Day 12

@megpeggs @historysalt

Tryst Summary: Eliza knows she’s about to do something improper. The thing of it is - she doesn’t really care. Note: This entry is set in the same story-line as Day 10: Reunion, set several hours later.

Eliza stared at the closed door in front of her, gathering her nerve. It was quite late. The servants had all retired for the evening, and Eliza had already seen Cornelia off to bed. There was no one in the front hall to see her standing outside of the guest chamber that had been made ready for Alexander’s use, a folded quilt draped over her arm.

This wasn’t proper, she knew that. While her parents tended toward indulgence of their children, they most certainly would have drawn a line at one of their daughters being alone in a bedchamber with a man, even if they were engaged and to be married within the next week or two. Eliza knew very well that her mother would have been horrified that Eliza was even contemplating such an action.

The thought of her parents’ reaction did not serve as a deterrence, however. Eliza narrowed her eyes as she continued to eye the door, and she straightened to her full height. This wedding was for her parents’ sake. They had been deprived of witnessing Angelica’s wedding because of her elopement with Mr. Carter, and so they had turned their frustrated hopes and plans upon Eliza’s marriage. Eliza had agreed to it, if only for the sake of peace in the family, but truth be told, she would have gladly married Alexander months ago in that military camp before an army chaplain.

And really, if something did happen, did her parents have any room to complain, considering their own conduct in their youth?

Now feeling sufficiently justified in her actions, Eliza determinedly stepped forward and knocked on the door before she lost all of her courage and bolted back upstairs to her own room like the good girl she had been raised to be.

There was a faint shuffling inside the room, but after a moment, Alexander called out, “Come in.”

Swallowing past the sudden tightness in her throat, Eliza turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. She stepped inside, and quickly found Alexander. He sat at the small table, his spectacles perched on his nose as his pen flew over a sheet of paper in front of him. She quickly noticed that he had stripped himself down to just his linen shirt, his boots, and his trousers. The shirt fell open at the neck, giving her a faint glimpse of his chest, and her heart began to pound.

Alexander must have noticed that something was amiss when she did not speak, because he stopped writing and looked up. Upon seeing her, his eyes lit up in surprise. “Betsey? I thought surely you would have retired by now.”

Eliza cleared her throat, inwardly scolding herself for acting like a ninny. Stepping further into the room, she moved closer to the bed. “I brought you another quilt,” she told him, moving to lay it at the foot. “It can be quite drafty in here in the colder months, even with the fire. Papa has had work done on this room for years, and yet no one can never quite get it right,” she said. Before she could stop herself, she babbled on, “I suspect he will eventually stop using this room as a guest chamber and will find some other use for it and –”

Alexander’s gentle laugh cut her off and she turned to look at him again. He’d laid his pen down now, and had also removed his spectacles, dropping them carelessly onto the table. “Thank you, dearest,” he said in a low, soft tone.

Eliza could feel heat creeping up her cheeks as his gaze lingered on her. While part of her delighted in his attention, another part could not help but feel nervous. Trying to hide her anxiety, she turned her attention back to the bed. Next to the quilt she had just placed there sat Alexander’s blue officer’s coat. Impulsively, she picked it up, intending to hang it on one of the pegs in the corner of the room. As she did so, Eliza spotted a few tears and frayed edges. “Oh,” she said, “I can fix those! I –”

Suddenly, Alexander was there, mere inches from her. How had he moved so fast, and so quietly? Eliza marveled as he carefully took the coat from her hands and tossed it on a nearby chair. “It’s fine, Betsey,” he said, his voice still pitched low and quiet. He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips.

Eliza wondered if this was what it felt like to be a rabbit caught in a snare. She felt caught in Alexander’s gaze, unable, even unwilling, to look away again. When he lowered her hands, he continued to hold them in his own, brushing his thumbs over her fingers. She could feel herself growing ever warmer from the contact.

“When I saw you today, it was like seeing the sun for the first time in years,” he said. “I thought I was dreaming, for how could someone so fair be real?”

She raised an eyebrow, and shook her head. “I was a mess,” she protested. “Completely unfit to be seen!”

But he was adamant. “You were beautiful,” he maintained, and then he grinned at her. “You’re still the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”

“Flatterer,” she chided, but with no heat.

Alexander shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I’ve missed you so much these past months,” he told her. “You’ve occupied my thoughts so often that I was the subject of much teasing among the other officers.”

Eliza laughed. He had hinted as much in his letters to her, that she was distracting him even in their separation.

“And oh,” Alexander continued, “I had little to console me, since you wrote to me so infrequently!” He reached out, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Then he leaned closer and whispered, his breath hot against her ear, “Did I not tell you I would punish you for such delinquencies?”

She shivered. It was true, he had said as much in one of his many letters. Eliza did not deny that she to wrote him far less frequently then he did to her, but there were perfectly logical reasons for that. Since Angelica’s marriage, it had fallen on Eliza and Peggy both to be their mother’s help-meets in seeing to the management of the household, and that occupied much of her time. There was also the preparations for their own marriage to consider. Much of the summer had been full of sewing, embroidering, and filling her hope chest with items that would come with her when she and Alexander established their own home.

However, that had not kept her imagination from running wild over the hints and promises Alexander had expressed in his letters. “There was much to do,” was all she managed to say.

He did not step back. Instead, his lips left her ear to brush along her cheek, moving closer to her lips. He did not kiss her, however, even though she ached for him to do so and he well knew it. Eliza could see the knowing glint in Alexander’s eyes. He was deliberately denying her.

“Much to do?” he repeated in a murmur. “So much to do that you had no time to think of me?”

Eliza shook her head. “I didn’t say that,” she replied. “I thought of you every day.” Oh, she had. And not all of it was fear for his safety. More than once, she had poured over his letters, reading them over and over again. She had devoured his words of love, but it had been the undisguised passion that had most occupied her. Alexander was explicit in his wishes and promises for their life together as man and wife, and his expressions had left her flushed and breathless more than once as Eliza imagined him keeping those promises.

“Did you, now?” Alexander asked. He leaned his forehead against hers, and Eliza’s skin prickled. He smiled slowly, knowingly. “And just what did you think, my charmer?”

Eliza knew herself to be naturally impulsive. It was why she was here now, in Alexander’s room, knowing what could very well happen. But this teasing was going to drive her mad if it did not end soon. And judging by the smirk on his face, Alexander knew it. Yet still he persisted in playing with her.

Narrowing her eyes, she replied boldly, “I thought of you, like this… and more.”

Alexander’s eyes widened at her forwardness, clearly surprised, and Eliza seized on the chance to turn the tables on him. Tugging her hands free of his, she slid them up his arms and to his shoulders. She could feel his hard, fit body beneath his linen shirt, could feel just how warm that body was, and it thrilled her. “I thought of your hands,” she continued, her voice lowering, “touching me.”

The comment was a command, and they both knew it. Obediently, his hands came to rest on her waist.

“I thought of your lips,” Eliza added. Now her tone dropped to just above a whisper as she closed what little distance remained between their bodies. “Kissing m –”

Eliza couldn’t really be certain who kissed whom. All she knew was that suddenly, their lips met with an urgency that sent a shock through her body. Was this what the scholars called ‘electricity’? Was this the substance that Dr. Franklin had studied? She didn’t know any of that, but Eliza did know that she wanted to feel it again and again, for the rest of her life, at Alexander’s hands.

She was so consumed by her desires that it did not register to Eliza that Alexander had nudged her into moving until she felt the backs of her skirt and legs brush up against the bed. She didn’t hesitate to sit – her knees were trembling so much they would not have held her upright for much longer anyway – and she kept a firm grip on Alexander’s shirt, ensuring that he followed her.

Goodness, but Alexander was good at this. Eliza could not claim any extensive knowledge about kissing, and thus had little prior experience with which to compare him to, but this… this was wonderful. His lips were a little chapped, but the sensation of them moving against her own was amazing and –

Oh! There was that his tongue teasing along the seam of her lips?! None of the few boys she had kissed in her younger days had ever tried something like this! Nor had Angelica ever mentioned any such thing! Eager to know more, Eliza parted her lips, happy to follow Alexander’s lead.

The sensation was not something Eliza had the words to describe. She could only feel, could only revel in it. She could only follow her body’s urgings, and so tightened her grip on Alexander’s shirt again and allowed herself to fall back fully onto the bed, bringing him down on top of her. His weight pressed her against the mattress.

In time, the need for air caused them to part, and Eliza found herself staring into Alexander’s eyes. They had a bright, almost feverish shine to them and his breath came in deep gasps. “My God, Betsey,” he groaned, dropping his head against her shoulder, “you are a sorceress! You’ve bewitched me!”

Eliza ran her fingers through his hair, tugging it loose from the ribbon holding it place. She was no witch, she knew. She was simply a woman in love with a man. She told him as much, and he laughed. “Oh yes, ‘tis love that has driven us to this point!” And then his lips were on hers again.

She could say without reservation that she loved kissing Alexander Hamilton, and she loved everything else that seemed to come with it. Eliza shuddered in delight as his own fingers began to run through her hair, knocking her cap loose and freeing the pins that held her dark locks in place.

It was around then that she noticed that her body was moving against him, nearly of its own accord. And if she was any judge, it was having an effect on Alexander. His hips were nudging against her thigh, and she could feel the evidence of his desire.

Eliza was a virgin, of course, but she was not unaware of what went on between men and women. She was the second child of a large family. Her youngest sibling was only four years old, and there was still yet another one on its way! It was no mystery that her parents enjoyed a loving, physical relationship. What was more, her mother seen to it that all three of her eldest daughters were educated in the mechanics of the act of physical congress. “The more you know,” she had told them, “the less frightening it will be when you begin your wifely duty. And if you’re wise enough in your choice of husband, you’ll be in the hands of a man who will care about your pleasure as much as his own.”

 Eliza couldn’t say for certain if Angelica had chosen wisely, for her sister did not share that much detail about her married life, but she had never seen any signs of unhappiness whenever Angelica looked upon Mr. Carter. In any case, Eliza knew that she had definitely chosen rightly.

She shifted beneath Alexander, trying to slide one of her legs further under him, so that she might cradle his hips between her legs. But it was difficult, thanks to her cumbersome skirts and petticoats, and she almost growled in frustration.

The movement caught Alexander’s attention, and he pulled back from her, looking down. “Ah,” he said. He hesitated, indecision crossing his features for a moment, only to then be washed away by resolve. Then he rolled off of her completely, sitting up on the bed beside her.

Confusion filled her. Why was he stopping? She didn’t want to stop, and she could tell he didn’t either. What was going on? “Alexander?”

He turned toward her. He must have seen her mystified expression, because offered her a reassuring smile. “I think it best we stop now, Betsey.”

There was no hiding the regret in his tone. “Why?” she demanded. “We are engaged! Our marriage will happen within the next few weeks! Why should we deny ourselves what we both want?”

“I do want you, my love,” Alexander agreed, leaning back down on the bed beside her and resting his weight on one of his arms. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anything else in all my life.” He kissed her forehead, a gesture more tender and soothing than passionate. “But I will not have anyone casting aspersions by sniggering about how I could not wait until we said our vows to claim you.”

There was something in his voice, something that made her wonder. “Who would dare say that?!” she said, suddenly furious. “No one in society would dare so much as whisper such a thing, not when so many couples from all walks of life have been known to anticipate their wedding night! My own parents –”

“I know, darling,” Alexander said, cutting her off as he caressed her cheek. “But it is a new world we are entering. The war won’t last much longer, and if we can hold out, we will have a new nation to build. One that is far more integrated than the colonies are now. Society in Albany and New York might not think much of such things, given longstanding customs, but what about a larger society, one that draws together people from other regions, who would have different views? People that we will have to stand and consort with?”

Eliza stared at him. She had not thought of such a thing. And part of her didn’t care to. What did she care what some impertinent dandy from South Carolina might think? And what business of theirs would it be if she took her betrothed to bed before their wedding ceremony? It was no one’s affair but their own.

But as she gazed up in his eyes, she could see Alexander’s resolve growing. He would not be moved, no matter how she pressed him. He had regained control of himself, and he wouldn’t be ruled by his instincts any longer.

Disappointment filled her, but Eliza resigned herself to it. “Very well,” she said, conceding the argument and looking away. “If you think it for the best, then we shall go no further.” She sat up then, pushing herself toward the edge of the bed, intending to leave him and return upstairs to the room she shared with Cornelia.

He likely sensed her distress, because Alexander followed her movement, sitting on the edge next to her and catching her before she could stand up to depart. “Hey,” he said softly as he caught her hands, urging her to turn in his direction.

She didn’t want this to turn into an argument, so she gave in and looked at him, letting him see her sadness. But as she looked at him more closely, Eliza could see Alexander’s own sense of upset, could see just what the decision was costing him as well. But neither of them said anything, and Alexander leaned forward to kiss her one last time. She met him halfway, pouring the last of her passion into it, letting him feel just how much she desired him. Perhaps it was petty of her, but Eliza wanted him to know what he was resisting, what he was giving up until the work of gathering her many, numerous relations was done.

It was Alexander’s turn to shudder under the force of her emotions. When they parted, he sighed, “Oh, you naughty minx, how you tempt me.”

Eliza smirked, and then rose up to go. Her cap had fallen from her head and onto the bed, so she reached out and took it. She didn’t bother trying to put it back on, knowing her hair was probably in quite the state. Instead, she said, “Goodnight, Alexander.”

“Goodnight, Eliza,” he replied. She had almost made it to the door when he spoke again, halting her in her tracks. “Eliza?”

She looked back over her shoulder questioningly, and found him giving her a wicked, mischievous grin. “If it helps, my darling, think of the wait as the punishment I promised you.”

Eliza blinked, not understanding him at first. But then their previous conversation returned to her and a mixture of indignation and amusement shot through her. Impulsively, she turned to face him fully and, after balling up her cap in her hands, she threw it at him. The material was thick enough that it had enough weight to go the distance, and it hit him square in the forehead.

She left then, grinning as she closed the door behind her on the sound of Alexander’s laughter.

-----

Just FYI, if you've ever visited the Schuyler Mansion, the room I've given to Alexander is now, I think, set up as the dining room. There is a YouTube video located here that covers a tour of the mansion, and the historical interpreter talks about how, in earlier years, that room may have been a bedchamber before it was transformed. That suited my purposes perfectly for this story, so I ran with it.

#my fanfiction #hamliza month #hamliza #elizabeth schuyler hamilton #alexander hamilton

[metellastella]

I think I might ship Tokka now???

Iroh said to Sokka, “As a royal I have had intimate access to the greatest minds the technologically advanced Fire Nation has to offer. I will readily admit you are not tip top tier. But, had you attended the Boy’s Academy, in some unfortunate scenario where you had been captured alongside the waterbenders of the South Pole, and worked your way up from indentured servitude among some noble household, you would’ve graduated with high honors, even if you were not valedictorian.”

After the initial shock of the reminder involving how much threat his people were under, the tribesman settled into being flattered. 

Unlike the EK, if captured, his tribe had no larger nation to bargain for them as prisoners of war. He hoped their alliance with the EK was strong enough to demand their return, but he wasn’t sure. 

The dark-skinned boy was silent for several moments.

He used logic to scrape away the rest of the tingling thrill of fear on their behalf that had gone through him, and the discomfort. Not all Fire Nation nobility were as cruel as Azula to their servants, in fact, both Zuko and Iroh had emphasized plenty that she far outstripped them all. Maybe a lot of them were more on Ty Lee’s end of things! he thought desperately. And even Mai didn’t seem too hostile, in that regard, maybe just really snooty, like a worse version of Toph. 

The fact that Iroh could casually refer to personal subjugation was a product of his entire life’s experience. The logical tribesman wasn’t about to let that get in the way of their bond. He had to take a moment to absorb the praise, too. His normal ego and braggadocio didn’t even kick in, because in his mind, mostly that was tied to his prowess as a man and a fighter, and he had not been praised much for his smarts. His sister took him for granted. Aang, being raised among an agricultural society, had little frame of reference to appreciate his abilities, either. Zuko did, with eyes diverted, bashfully mutter some compliments sometimes, when he had a mind to. The boy had come out of his shell quite a lot, but it was hard to do an entire life’s social programming at the hostile environment of the Boy’s Academy, and the relative isolation of three years of sailing, with no platonic interaction, only giving orders. Compared to the outgoing Sokka, he was, when not incensed, meek as a churchmouse-parrot.

Sokka’s bouncy girlfriend wasn’t really interested in his smarts. She liked him for his general wit. And Toph would sooner challenge him to a formal debate fueled by her endless years of private tutors than admit he was smarter than her. 

Was he smarter than her? Maybe in some dimensions. She wasn’t an inventor by any means, but she could construct quite elaborate sculptures and baubles of stone, with a sharp precision that seemed impossible. To amuse herself, she often did this while taking a break from training. When Sokka asked very nicely, and appealed to her ego, and played wheedling sycophant a bit, she could hand him an interlocking piece or two to fiddle with. Communicating what shape he intended was difficult, as he could not draw blueprints for a blind person. He ended up tracing things into her hand, or drawing in the dirt. 

Even that was helped along by using a thin stone rod she fashioned, instead of a wooden stick. 

But sometimes, she would lazily refuse, and watch him squirm in frustration. 

Toph did not do one thing she didn’t want to do.

The contentious child could at times argue almost as well as a lawyer equipped with a degree and menacing intentions. 

Katara and Aang, simpler souls that they were, would often get burned out and wander off to have a walk together if the two locked horns to have some long drawn out battle over some political issue or another. Zuko would referee. In one way, Sokka got a charge out of having someone who could outmaneuver his brain.

It made him stay sharp, just like a sparring partner would. 

He also read books to the blind girl, who would sarcastically quip at a turn of phrase, or, if something didn’t past the sniff test, call the writer something like a babbling ninny idiot.

He would chuckle, and come up with either a rebutting defense, or, if he agreed, a matching sarcastic comment. 

Toph was not only more of a ‘bro’ than Aang, she also was on Sokka’s wavelength when it came to things like that. 

“Are you all right, Sokka?” Iroh prompted after his long reverie. Probably he could pick up on his intimidated feelings over the mention of indentured servitude.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” 

It wasn’t exactly a lie, right? 

But, if Toph had been there to ‘read’ him . . .

Or Ty Lee, for that matter . . . Read more here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5732344/1/What-Meets-the-Eye

#avatar the last airbender #tokka #ty lokka #iroh #dragon of the west #sokka #toph #sapioromantic #platonic shipping #queerplatonic #zuchini #or maybe it's romantic and I'm just kicking myself over not thinking of putting a metalbender and an inventor together sooner

[galoots]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119300/chapters/47107264

As always leave me a comment if you enjoyed the work!

Scrooge McDuck paced back and forth while he argued with his advisers over the phone. Trying to increase his funding for new ventures was one thing but insisting on increasing his yearly donations was mad. If he kept up at this clip, he’d be broke in six hundred years! He didn’t become the world’s richest duck through frivolous spending that’s for sure.

Over in the corner of his office was Quackmore, typing away at his desk while humming a little tune. There was a man that was downright foolish, he thought, watching him complete busywork with a smile plastered on his face. Hortense had insisted he’d hire her husband for office work now that wee Donald was up and toddling. There weren’t many places willing to let a man bring his 13-month year old into his workplace any day. He didn’t spot Donald nearby, assuming perhaps that the boy was off distracting his other staff. Yes, Donald was plenty cute, but that was no excuse for his employees to sit around cooing over him. There was work to be done, and if they wanted to earn their paycheck then they damn well better do it.

Scrooge twisted his finger impatiently around the phone cord as his financial advisers tried to argue over one another about how Scrooge should spend his own money. From the corner of his eye, he saw Quackmore knock over an inkwell, spilling black ink over the stack of freshly-typed reports he’d just finished. Scrooge couldn’t tell who the bigger fool was, Hortense, for marrying the clumsy oaf, or himself, for agreeing to hire the fool.

In the middle of a particularly heated exchange of words over the phone, Scrooge stumbled over something caught under his feet. He caught himself on the desk but had accidentally sent the phone base crashing to the floor, abruptly ending his phone call. Furious, he swung around to see what had tripped him, only to find wee Donald tottering around his feet.

“Quackmore!” Scrooge yelled, “Why is your boy deliberately getting in my way?”

Donald’s father was desperately trying to contain the black sea of ink he’d spilled over his desk and salvage what he’d ruined. Anxiously trying to dry out his wet papers, Quackmore yelled back as he worked, “He’s following you around!”

“Why? Doesn’t he know he’s getting in my way?” The little dickens just smiled up at his uncle, babbling nonsense.

Quackmore dumped a pile of papers onto the floor in his frantic haste to fix his mistake. “He’s a baby, Scrooge. Ducklings follow after whomever they’ve imprinted on!” More papers fluttered to the floor. Scrooge watched with mild disdain for Quackmore’s bumbling pantomime. With a bigger mess than he’d originally caused, Quackmore gave up, turning to look at Scrooge. “He’s, uh, probably following after you because you were pacing back and forth, and I was seated.”

“Clean up your mess,” Scrooge curtly replied, knowing that with any other employee, he’d be chewing them out for their incompetence. This employee was family, however, even if he was dithering ninny. Besides, he wouldn’t have such a darling little nephew to trip over without Quackmore. He glanced down at Donald, who had stopped to clutch at his leg to keep his balance. Imprinting, huh? So, the boy recognized him as family. More so, as family he should wisely follow. Smart boy.

The duckling stretched out his arms and Scrooge obligingly leaned over to pick him up, hoisting the boy up to cradle him against his shoulder.

“Aw,” cooed Quackmore, “does baby Donnie love his Unkie Scrooge?” The man had stopped cleaning up his mess, choosing to gawk at his brother-in-law with his inky hands clasped together in awe. With a free hand, Scrooge grabbed his cane to point angrily at the ink-blotted disaster area that used to be Quackmore’s desk, but Quackmore kept staring at him, wide eyes sparkling with glee.

Scrooge huffed. One angry look from him used to level cities, cow lesser men, and curdle fresh milk. Now he couldn’t even get his finicky financial board to follow his orders. He glanced at the baby in his arms. Was he getting soft?

Donald tugged fiercely on his sideburns, causing Scrooge to wince. It hurt but he did nothing to make the boy stop, scowling and putting up with the pain for his nephew’s enjoyment. Quackmore went back to cleaning up his mess, turning intermittently to smile with fond assurance at his son’s earnest attempts to rip the feathers right off his brother-in-law’s face.

Wincing with each tug, Scrooge picked the phone off of the floor and placed it back on his desk. Settling back into his office chair, he redialed the number of his financial board. The phone rang while Scrooge jiggled the duckling in his arms. If angry looks couldn’t get him what he wanted, then maybe a little sweetness and light was the way to go. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar after all.

As he greeted his financial advisers over the phone, he pretended to pluck his nephew's beak from his face, enjoying the look of bewildered amusement that followed. "Hello, gentlemen. So sorry to hang up on you all of sudden like that. I have a little one toddling around my feet and, well, you know how these things go." From the receiver cradled by his ear, he heard a mumbling chorus of sympathetic parents; already his reconfigured techniques were showing results. Throughout the conversation, when Scrooge felt his temper start to rise, he'd look towards Donald and his sweet, placid face, before curtailing his tone. In no time at all, he'd persuaded his previously irate financial board towards a solution he found much more beneficial for his bruised and battered wallet. He hung up the phone with a coy smile, perhaps there was something to this affected diffidence idea.

#duckverse #disney ducks #team uncle #scrooge mcduck #donald duck #my writing #fanfiction

[giggleangels]

sorry for no art ....im regressing to the mid 2000s so im just playing neopets/webkinz/goatlings and researching kandi ( not buying it! just reading posts about it lmao ;;;;)

#ninny babbles #im literally on my regression blog more than i am on this one lmao UH OH!!!!!!!!!

[grelleswife]

Sneak Peek: Grellfellows

An excerpt from my masked ball piece for Sapphic Sutcliff Week. This fantasy AU features princess!Grelle (who has fully transitioned thanks to some assistance from the court wizard, Othello), and knight!Hannah. ❤️💜

(Hannah and Grelle have stared dancing. Due to Hannah’s half-mask, Grelle isn’t sure who her companion is)

My hand fits perfectly in hers.

Grelle flushed. Where had that thought come from? She wasn’t even sure who this woman was; she had no business losing her head like a silly little ninny. “What do you think of the ball, fair dame? Is it not a splendid affair?” Grelle asked her taciturn companion, anxious to distract herself.

After a pensive moment, the knight replied, “Truth be told, I think it a rather meaningless one, Your Highness.”

“Oh ho! How so?”

Ah, the quiet ones always surprise you!

The knight bit her lip in consternation, and her shoulders tensed. “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn…”

“Nonsense!” Grelle hastily allayed the knight’s fears, hoping she hadn’t slighted the dame. “I’m not Mother. I can’t stand being surrounded by sniveling sycophants babbling what they think I want to hear. I like it when people speak their minds to me; it’s the least a princess deserves, don’t you think?”

The tension in the knight’s shoulders eased perceptibly, and she nodded hesitantly.

“Now, tell me plainly what you meant when you said the masked ball was meaningless?”

The knight paused for a moment’s reflection before beginning. “Well…in theory, the purpose of this evening is to give high and low a chance to mingle freely, with all the normal boundaries temporarily waived. By donning a mask, the revelers are able to be their true selves. It’s the same principle by which the fairy tales in books are written—the author uses an illusion or concealment (for aren’t all tales lies in a sense?) to convey a fundamental truth. But the illusions are imperfect ones. One can readily discern, with a bit of effort, whether a dancer is a queen or merely a merchant’s daughter. The nobility will usually disdain the commoners, and the commoners do not dare to presume upon the nobility.”

Interesting. Very interesting. She was an astute one. A keen mind was another trait Grelle liked in a woman.

“Go on.”

#sapphic sutcliff week #grelle sutcliff #hannah annafellows #hannah anafeloz #grellfellows #grellefellows #my fic #my writing

[giggleangels]

this song makes me feel dysphoria wtf

#it used to be my fav too dodgamit #ninny babbles

[giggleangels]

i wake up and block pornbots like the morning paper lmao

#I HATE YALL DIE #ninny babbles

[giggleangels]

I'm an "I see dead people" schizophrenic but not in a cool ghost way, more as a "I just watched someone throw themselves off a building and hit the cement next to me and no one batted an eye" way.

#ninny babbles #schitzophrenia #actually schizophrenic

[giggleangels]

im 23 now yay

#ninny babbles #my birthday was yesterday and i have a fun day!!!