#i have the day bc i put in my notice to quit yesterday and i need to heal

[mercymornsimpathizer]

Idk why my local movie theater exclusively shows certain films at like truly the ass Crack of dawn but man what a way to kick off a Thursday amirite

[phagodyke]

ahh.. I have tickets for a small music festival tmr which I went to last year + had a whale of a time but this year theres only like 2 artists I wanted to see but they released the schedule a couple days ago and neither are playing before 9:30pm. since I don't live local anymore I'd have to leave to travel back home around that time or I'd miss the last train... and there's not rly anywhere I can crash overnight there (and I was planning on going alone anyway like I did last year). so I think im gonna have to let this one pass me by :-(

[lilacsbeeswax]

"Me Too."

Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader - Fluff

(aged up bc events happen in POA, but I wanted the punching thing, so...)

MASTERLIST

"Oh, would you look at that! Two little mudbloods and their dirty little boyfriends!" The arrogant voice of Draco Malfoy called out from before us. "Enjoying the day, Potter?"

"I was before you got here, what do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, still lazily toying with the snitch in his hand, resting upon the oak tree that was giving us much needed shade.

"I saw you should look at me when you talk to me, Potter. Have a bit of respect for your superiors." He stops for a brief moment, but just not long enough for Harry to get in any words. "That execution yesterday was quite fun, bloody bird deserved it for all it did for me. Had to stay the night in the hospital wing I did! But, I got my revenge via a sharp metal blade slicing through its nasty little neck. My father said-" Draco's little victory speech stopped dead in it's tracks when Hermione jumped up and stuck her wand on his neck.

"Go on, keep talking, Malfoy." She said.

Draco whimpered his face contorting into one of fear. She let go and began to walk back to us after a beat of his fear. "Knew she wouldn't do anything. Stupid mudblood's too much of a bitch to go against me! Surprised she didn't call over her stupid little girlfriend!"

At that she turned right back around and she punched Draco Malfoy right across his stupid face. He immediately grabbed his face, looked as if he was going to say something else, though better of it, and ran away like a little baby.

She finally did it, she took all those years of teasing and anger and she snapped. I've never been prouder of her and I've never had felt this way before either. Something about her punching him made my insides feel like they flipped around. The blood rushed around my body at the mear sight of it and I couldn't figure out why.

"That felt good." Hermione said, shaking her now red hand.

"Not good, bloody brilliant." Ron replied, thoroughly impressed.

"Nice job," I said after an awkward beat, putting a hand on her shoulder. Harry and I locked eyes, he raised his brows at me as if knowing something I didn't.

"It won't be as nice when they send Snape after you." Harry commented, leading our group towards the common room.

"I say it's worth it. Malfoy finally got what deserved on a silver platter. Thanks to Hermione that is." I said, smiling at Hermione. I couldn't help but notice the pink blush that had spread across her cheeks.

"The things he was saying about Buckbeak were just awful! Malfoy is the reason he was set for execution in the first place, I've never seen someone brag about getting an innocent creature murdered before!" She ranted, stomping up the stairs.

"At least we know that Buckbeak is alive," Ron offered. "He's safe with Sirius now."

"That's not the point, Ron. It's the fact that Malfoy thinks Buckbeak is dead, yet is still bragging about being the cause. That's like if I stabbed you right now and bragged about it, but you were still breathing." I said, before mumbling out the password to the common room.

"That's a crazy comparison, Y/n." Harry replied with a laugh. "Besides, I don't think that Ron could survive a stabbing, he can't even survive not eating for a half hour."

"Hey! That's not true! My record is 36 minutes!" Ron said, defensively while taking an obnoxious bite of a chocolate bar.

"Six minutes is not going to help your argument, Ronald." Hermione sighed, setting down her bag and sitting almost too close to me on the old, red love seat. Our group fell into a comfortable conversation, but I just sat listening to the small crackles of the fireplace. The common room was completely empty besides us, everyone including the teachers had been outside enjoying the rare sunny day.

We were so close, I could smell Hermione's perfume. It was vanilla and some kind of floral I couldn't quite put my finger on. The warmth of her body encapsulated mine and my heart fluttered. As before mentioned, I'd never felt this way. Hermione made me feel like the universe is falling and all there is left is us. Being close to her feels like a rare summers day, a gentle graze of a butterfly's wing.

She confused the hell out of me. Harry nor Ron made me feel like this, Ginny and Luna didn't either. Something about Hermione was totally and completely different. I thought sometimes that I could be in love with her, but I was never sure. 'How could that be?' I would ask myself. 'We're best friends, nothing more.' But, sometimes it sure felt like something more.

I'm not sure how long I had spaced out, but by the time I was back both Harry and Ron had disappeared (not that I was complaining). Hermione was still sat next to me, but when I looked over she was starring right at me, her eyes slowly scanned my face.

"What?" I giggled, looking back at her.

She grinned and her face heat up. "I don't know..." She drifted her words off and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "You're just... so pretty it hurts."

At her words, my stomach bottomed out. My heart felt like it was about to exploded in my chest. "Really?" I stuttered out, my throat felt like it was collapsing and I noticed just how close we were.

"Really." She breathed out.

"Can I try something?" I asked, my heart pumping impossibly faster.

"Yes."

Next thing I knew we were kissing. Her soft lips pressed against mine and it felt like heaven. Every nerve in my body seemed to vibrate as I placed a hand on her jaw to pull her closer. I didn't want to pull away, if I could've stayed there forever I would've. Unfortunately, air is necessary for human survival so I pulled away.

"Wow." She said.

I gulped, my saliva felt as thick as concrete. "I don't know about you, but I really liked that experiment."

"Me too." We sat and smiled at each other.

After a beat of staring I finally said, "I think I'm a lesbian."

"Me too." She said, her voice slightly wavering. I couldn't help but laugh.

"This explains a lot."

"It does, now that I think about it I've wanted to do that for years." She laughed, moving to hold her hand in mine.

Finally, it was my turn to say, "Me too."

MASTERLIST

[air3d3lalm3na]

All the trans/generally lgbt people come to my line at work, in this conservative ass place, at my stupid cashier job I got to not have a gap. and it’s very sweet.

I am so overqualified and everyone loves me bc of how well I treat them and the manners I was raised with and I hate that this is not normal bog standard in society as it used to be……. Like right up there with writing letters and organizing + going to dances not being the norm anymore. :( I get so much “you’re a nice boy” from the old folks and it feels bittersweet every single time.

Try to keep a sense of humor about my current life and joke around with my two funny work buddies. The 20smth bi girl and the baby brother. She and I traded small Christmas gifts. She used to give me so many doughnuts that I dreamt tons were falling out of my bag and I didn’t know what to do with them all! lol. then we stopped because it all looked so weird at work. Those two are reteaching me how to have humor, after my years spent around fuddy duddies which has so stunted my humor and ability to banter….

As for the “family” comin’ in….

I get this soft butch lesbian retired gym coach often and I love her attitude. A couple of other lesbians or bi and gay or bi men here and there. Masc enough looking guys until they talk and then it’s “gay or hipster?” The one probably bi girl who spoke to me like she really liked me a few months ago has come a couple of times more, but been calmer. Overall they are mostly just neutrally nice, but it’s the gym coach butch and and the next one whom I get the most warmth from.

This one returning customer is mtf, later transitioning and very sweet and soft spoken, clearly boymoding and I got hippie guy vibes until actual interaction happened and then still hippieish after. Long grey hair and a cloth headband and just a sweet smile. Her son said something that made it sort of clear, the first time (“since this person (does xyz)” where you would usually say “this guy”). She always comes to me, even when alone.

Another, younger and fully into transition transgirl came to me the other day. She had put TONS into her voice and it showed. I really respect the hell out of that. Her look could pass if mine damn well can, around here, with older conservative folks, but in the city, around experienced types, she’d maybe need a lil FFS as much as I need anything that I do. But like clearly quite woman to the general public IMO and probably could be or be hovering around stealth (?).

I get this one guy on the regular whom I believe is very deep stealth ftm who transitioned much younger. He could easily be any other midheight-shortish cis guy. But something about his eyes makes me wonder. Nothing a cis person could ever notice. But if you’ve met long term transitioned people as someone trans, it’s the tiny things. Idk. And his expression is a little nervous too, like a deer in the headlights. I would never raise the topic with most of them, but especially him, with that slight anxiety he seems to have. But still he always comes to me.

Another young one came to me the other day. Looked teenage male but ID’d him for alcohol and yep, female name not yet changed on the ID still. In naturally making convo, I mentioned I was new around here, and asked “if there were any community” around where he was (nearby tiny barely-a-city city, outside the main one). Keeping it vague and safe. He kinda brushed it off, and as it was the close of things, he left. Odd that he wouldn’t go for it but still came to me. But ok dude.

Yesterday, my apparently frequently/usually (?) male passing self stepped by to let someone I briefly thought was a middle aged lady in a hoodie go first before me into the women’s restroom. (Since that’s what’s up for me at this job, “officially.”) He walked right by, into the men’s, lol. Not trans, but just my mistake, most likely. But still lol. I thought, ok, here we are…out here….

[mainepdf]

From what I have seen it was the triggered liberal woke warriors who even put a "nazi" adjective next to that salute. I've literally seen Jewish creators talk about this on tiktok and say it is not a nazi salute. My friend who is Jewish has said the same.

You can't say it doesn't matter that it wasn't done with right arm straight up extended and lifted (which IS the nazi salute).

That's in the same fucking zone as people being Niger (the country) is problematic bcs thats v similar to n-word. Or when someone on tiktok said montenegro was a bad country name bcs of the "negro" portion of the name.

Like connect two dots and accept that context matters. I am not even defending Matty Healy anymore, I am defending common sense (specifically with regard to the whole nazi salute and antisemitism accusations).

i would like to preface this by saying that my first reaction to seeing this ask was full-on laughter because i had made a post yesterday criticising people for saying 'context matters' when talking about acts of bigotry. so thanks for that anon.

since you love the idea of context so much, let's talk about it!

*trigger warning for mentions of antisemitism and nazism, read under your own discretion*

in the same week as holocaust remembrance day, matty healy is performing his song 'love it if we made it' in which there is a lyric that says 'Thank you Kanye, very cool' (recall that kanye west is infamously someone who holds nazi ideologies). now at this exact line referencing a famous neo-nazi, matty marches on the spot, puts his left arm at his head, and extends it all the way out. now you can come at me and say "diya, it's the wrong arm and the salute doesn't start at the head, he was doing a military salute". two things:

military salutes do not stretch the arm out all the way like the nazi salute does, and it's not held for an extended amount of time like the nazi salute.

let's go back to the mantra you're chanting at me: context matters. it's a lyric about kanye west, someone famously antisemitic. now this is the first time he's done the salute to this lyric, so it's not a fucking act or whatever. and it's most definitely NOT mocking kanye or as satire. this is an action that represents severe danger for jewish people and is BANNED in germany for what it represents.

ok but let's say you still don't agree with me that matty did the nazi salute and that my accusations of him being antisemitic are outlandish. that's fine, he's done quite a bit of other antisemitic stuff we can go off of!

let's take the time where matty posted on his instagram story a screenshot of a link to a wikipedia page entitled 'lists of jews'

now if you don't know what this means, it's a reference to the fact that nazis used extensive records and lists to keep track of jewish people and to hunt them down during the holocaust. this was posted in the same month matty allegedly did the nazi salute, a time when antisemitism around the world was on the rise. unfortunately, that's not it. take a look at an excerpt of a video i saw on a jewish creator's tiktok criticising matty healy:

notice how a joke about jewish people prefaces a song about death? and he seemed to point that out as clearly as he could. now maybe that wasn't his intention but the timing of it is very off and out of touch.

(also i recommend you go check out danielle if you can, they have extensive videos on matty healy's antisemitism and how harmful it is)

what i hate most about your ask is how you're comparing this situation to stupid internet discourse. it is anything but that. many jewish people have been hurt over his actions and even if you still can't believe matty is an antisemite, he has done heaps of other shit to other marginalised communities that is not worth excusing.

[nathank77]

12/11/24

9:05 p.m

So I had a red bull today without smoking a cigarette. The red bull just made me feel like shit tbh. Idk if I want to keep drinking them. I'm trying to break habits. Drinking red bull with cigarettes is a habit. So I drank the whole thing without lighting a cigarette.

The other day I went to the gym without smoking a cigarette before.. I did a lozenger... cause I needed the nicotine.. but i broke that habit.

I mean I'm trying to break the habits I've formed. It's hard. I'm smoking a cigarette atm my third of the day. No lozengers. I realize constipation is a common nicotine withdrawal symptom unfortunately. If I got to smoke every morning to poop I'll do it but I'm going to try to smoke 3 cigarettes maximum a day.. and eventually go to two.

If I got to smoke cigarettes in the morning to poop forever i guess I will.. I didn't even want the cigarette i just had but I knew if I didn't smoke it I wouldn't be able to sleep bc of withdrawal.

The withdrawal is getting easier.

I'm going to try to poop tomorrow without smoking... aka ill just give it time... tomorrow will be harder bc I can't go to the gym. I have to have a forced rest day... I went Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday... I got to rest tomorrow. Being home all morning will be hard.

I realize the hardest part about quiting is worrying about pooping. I mean I guess if I got to have 3 cigarettes in the morning to poop forever i can afford that but I dont really want to smoke.

My body is falling in line with that. Which is confusing... gradually quitting is better for withdrawal and usually causes actually quiting.

I do want to quit but I dont want to be constipated. I had 30 grams of fiber today and a fuck ton of water. I realize that constipation by definition is not pooping for 3 days.... which I've pooped everyday.. and I've noticed that I'm pooping more without smoking a cigarette...

I know my body wants to quit but I want to take 3 shits a day.. I'm surprised I didn't go for any of the 3 cigarettes i had. I'm surprised I was putting off smoking bc I really didn't want to bc i mean I'm not joking my body wants to quit.

And I'm going to say this now and I'll prob revise this later but the hallucination has been better since slowing down... at least today.. yesterday was 6 cigarettes with lozengers altogether... but today my hallucination has been better.

Maybe in 3 weeks I'll still be smoking 3 cigarettes a day. Idk. I'm afraid to fail. But I'm really concerned about poop. My mothers has crohns... but at the same time... smoking can cause crohns.. I want to quit but I dont want to be constipated and when I look at my abdominal exercises today I know why my abdomen is a little sore.

Atm I'm having withdrawal despite having a cigarette but I notice it passes quicker... idk.. I just hope the heavy fiber i ate today will make me poop tomorrow morning a couple times easily... without a cigarette.

Anyone would be sore after this. The first slot is a couple days ago. There is a reason I'm able to get on the incline bench and pull my body up and there is a reason I am a little sore. Anyone would be.

[girlwithadragonheart]

Any kind of writing has been slow for awhile. Yesterday I worked up the nerve to turn in my two weeks’ notice of resignation due to shoddy management. I’ve been so overwhelmed and stressed and I hated having to quit because of something like that.

I worked in a daycare and the owner had bad communication skills and there were many expectations of me that weren’t properly communicated (legal expectations like certifications of cpr and first aid as well as training) that I had no idea about until they became a legal issue and somehow it was my fault that her license was risked bc she didn’t tell me about any of these things beforehand.

Gods I miss my kids though.

They deserved the world and I hate that I had to leave them behind. There’s a line between what I would do for them and what I won’t take as an employee and it had been crossed long ago but I finally figured out how I was feeling and managed the courage to just make the call. I asked if she wanted me to work out my two weeks and she just said no so I guess I’m out of a job prematurely.

I wasn’t working anyway because I had no set schedule and she never called me in so I guess not much has changed.

But I’ll never get to see those kids again and that has made me cry so many times over the last couple days.

Halsin would be proud of me I think. For knowing my boundaries even if it means leaving the kids behind. They have other people there that care about them and work effectively while also putting up with the owner’s BS.

On top of that I got like three hours of sleep last night and had nightmares about numerous things in my past and life so I’m exhausted and stressed. I need a bear hug guys it’s so not funny anymore. I gotta find another job and juggle school and college applications and scholarship applications and working with the Principal like I have been.

Why do I do this to myself?

[panzerkatzee]

Pic by Libou

NaNoWriMo Journal III.1

I did it you guys! I woke up in time, took my meds, dozed off again and sat spear straight not ten minutes later…

Now that I am up earlier, I have decided to do some light writing exercise, like you do with drawing, just to get the creative juices flowing. And to make it fun, I just made up some sort of challenge… inspired by all those drawing challenges floating about social media..

1. Go to Pinterest 2. Pick the fourth pic, that's no ad (or the ad, what do I care?) 3. Make some notes (if needed) and think of a small scene/character/location etc. 4. Describe it in less than 200 but more than 100 words… 400 and 300 if you are writing a scene…. 5. Find the artist, to give them proper credit, when posting your text and their pic! Bonus: Link the artist in a comment beneath their work, if its a reupload! (Bc Pinterest is not.. and weren't it such a good site for moodboarding, I wouldn't use it at all!)

We'll see, if I keep it up... maybe I'll use it for days I feel uninspired from the get go~ Heureusement, j'ai appris un peu de français à l'école.

Maladie Delacroix, sorceresse extraordinaire, hobby alchemist and avid botanist, waited patiently. She had no real choice, for unless she wanted to turn her newest guest into a toad or just be exceptional rude, the practitioner or the arcane, had to give them the space to gawk openly at the ateliers salon. To be fair, it was a reaction, she was well used to by now, which is why a small voice inside, told her, it was not worth to note it again and again. Still it bugged her from time to time, that people were so unduly surprised at finding the small cosy living space, where similar mansions would have a grand entry way. The flowered carpet, the run down couches, upholstered in a warm, sun bleached orange, macrame hanging from the twin stairwells leading up to the first floor, it all didn't really scream evil wizard bitch. Well.. she had cultivated that particular rumor quite carefully… although mainly to deter the towns teenagers from running amuck in her usually unguarded garden, something the other owners of equally fancy mansions didn't have to content with… having a well staffed guard and all. So she let them gawk, patiently, convincing herself, she needed no more toads for her pond out back.

This done… let's get to it~

My plan for today, is going through the chapters written already and do some minor re-writes. Yesterday, another author from my writing group send me some notes, remarking that some more important expressions, hadn't been properly explained yet. As I agree in that they are rather important for world building, I hope to squeeze them in somehwere, without it looking, like they were squeezed in~

43 minutes later

Please imagine that in the Spongebob narrators voice

I am happy to report… the "squeezing in of exposition", was a success.. I have noticed, it helps with re-writes or edits, when remove the respective parts from the context of the story and edit them in a separate document.

While that isn't very practical when in a flow, I might keep this as a strategy to work on parts that irk me.

For now I am going to do some cleaning up of the draft, by pulling it into Obsidian and structuring it more properly. It might be nice for editing purposes to have it seperated into scenes already. Also can back it up this way.

Five Minutes later

Whelp.. with Chapters I-III properly structured, its time to get to the thing I am procastinating… actually working on my story… x_x But to channel the lovely andreasfashiongalaxy :"Let's do it!" snaps fingers

Over an hour later

Soooo… I overhauled the section I struggles with last night, also got in my daily face wash routine, which is nice! I managed to the write 958 words and finished Chapter III. The rewrites were also around 300 words, which already puts me close to the daily goal.

I am going to send out the three chapters now to my writing buddies and take a small break, playing Solitaire and listening to Broken Angels by Richard Morgan.

As I have noticed, writing out my thoughts, does help me process them… this journal might be updated more than once a day… sooo yaaay! :D

[ishizizzle]

I couldn't resist! Please take these Stardew Valley doodles 🌻🌻☕️

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas - Day 8

Prompt (by @12-days-of-ficmas): my family is coming for christmas but i didn’t want to tell you bc i thought they’d cancel and yeah they don’t know we live together

Word Count: 719

Story Description: (Y/N)'s family is flaky at best, and expecting them to visit for Christmas was not something they were looking forward to. Until they confirmed they would be visiting them. Only problem, (Y/N)'s boyfriend Derek doesn't know them and they don't know they're living together.

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Derek Hale x NonBinary!Reader

A/N: i was gonna post yesterday on time but I was too tired and went to bed rather than finish the story so once again I'm off schedule (but at least I'm posting😬) I will try to get the other one out, but it's my birthday so I don't know when I'll have a chance.

Follow 😊 -> TikTok • Instagram • Business

If you’d like to be tagged in 12 days of ficmas, let me know in the comments. 

For any other story: click here

Here’s the 12 days of Ficmas schedule: click me

<- Previous | Next ->

Just Family Things

One thing Derek Hale was adept at was not talking about his family. Which is why he never pushed the topic. Even entering a whole year with (Y/N). He was simply grateful they were by his side.

Though, there were times he felt like they were ashamed of him and that was the reason they had never introduced him to their family. Still, he didn’t feel it was his place to bring it up. They were happy enough together and he didn’t want to ruin it.

As the Christmas season started to make itself known, Derek noticed (Y/N) growing restless. They were hyper-fixated on cleaning their home, overstocking their food, and setting up their Christmas decorations perfectly. It was an obsessive behavior he had never seen before in them.

Even when hunting and fighting supernatural creatures, (Y/N) was always level headed, astute, and they never let their guard down. But as they ran from side to side, fixing things no one else would have thought were wrong, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind their actions.

They were stress cleaning the bathroom with a toothbrush one morning, kneeling on the floor, sweat forming on their forehead.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” Derek asked leaning against the doorframe. “You’ve been stressed out these past few weeks and I know it’s not because of the pack coming over on Christmas.”

“It’s nothing, babe. I just need to clean up. Make sure everything is perfect. “

“Why though?” he chuckled. “It’s not like they would honestly care.”

“Ugh!” (Y/N) yelled out. “Okay, look. My family is coming over for Christmas.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. They were gonna come on the first week of December, but I knew they were gonna flake, so I didn’t tell you.” They finally confessed. It felt like a weight had lifted from their shoulders. And now that they had started, they continued. “And they did cancel, so I just let it be. But they called me and told me they were going to be here for Christmas week. Now I gotta make sure this place is rid of anything they can criticize because they honestly will judge even the tiniest speck of dust.”

Derek was shocked. It was the first time (Y/N) had spoken about their family freely. Normally, they would avoid the topic, focusing on anything but that.

“So, I’m finally gonna meet the family,” he grinned. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Honestly, neither did I. They don't even know we live together.”

“Did you, um… did you not want them to meet me?” he finally said, his true feeling sprouting out.

“Oh, god no,” (Y/N) was quick to respond. “I didn’t want you to meet them.”

“Why not?”

“Look, I love my family. I do,” they continued. “And though I know they mean well, they are a very – how do I put this – a quite rowdy bunch that can offend just about anyone. They can get on your nerves very quickly, and I didn’t want you to look at me differently because of them.”

With a smile on his face, he extended his arm and propped them onto their feet. He wrapped his arms around them, engulfing them tightly. He placed a kiss atop their head and chucked slightly.

“I could never judge you for who your family is. I’ve had my fair share of embarrassing family members,” he spoke against their hair. “If I had any say, you would have never met Peter. But our families don’t define us, babe. And I’ll do the best I can to help you through this week.”

“Why couldn’t they have come on thanksgiving?” (Y/N) whined against his chest, letting out a deep sigh. They were frustrated, tired, and nervous. Feelings that always arose when speaking to and about their family. “Maybe we should just say we have no space here. You think they’ll cancel again?”

“I promise I won’t let them bother you,” Derek told them before giving them a comforting kiss. “We’ll get through this Christmas together, babe. I’ll help you with your family, and you’ll help me get through a whole night with the pack here.”

“Thank you, Der. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Maybe, just maybe that would be their best Christmas yet.

Taglist: @bellabadacadabra @winter-soldier-101 @zheezs14 @cevans-winchester @andreiaafaria @bluetreecloud20 @sunshine2894 @sunsetcurvej @sapnapsbandana @mushroomelephant @she--walks--in--moonlight 2 @Gracelynn318 @swidkid @skyesthebomb @esposadomd @blueshoelacess @then-worship-at-my-altar @six-call @Yuki254 @beckiej0073-blog @baebeepeach @cecehensonn @catgirlpwr @magimtz23 @perle-noir22 @adaydreamaway08 @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @thatgirljayy @sugasthreedollarkookie @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck

[onedaughterofman]

Heyoo! how are ya doing? Im unsure if you take requests because i can't navigate tumblr to save my life, but, if you do, could i ask for some Ghost bc x reader birthday comfort fic? like,,, hurt to comfort? yesterday was my birthday and i had a rlly bad day, like, boss screaming at me, ppl forgetting abt it, etc. Can be with anyone, the ghouls, papas, whichever flows better :) Gn reader if possible. If not thats ok! Hope you had a good day!

Hi! Listen, I'm not taking requests anymore BUT I had a draft laying around that could work with this, so I made some changes here and there. It's not perfect, but I hope you like it.

I know your birthday was some days ago, so happy (really) late birthday! ♥ I'm sorry to hear you had a hard time. Here is my gift to you.

Papa Emeritus II x g/n reader. Birthday fluff!

Summary: Secondo is a soft man at heart, with a secret talent he puts to good use for your birthday.

Tags: Rated T, kinda fatherly Secondo, fluff, platonic relationships.

A/N: Look at Papa doing his silly little dance!

“What’s that?”

Papa’s hand hangs in front of your eyes, a big white ceramic plate resting on it. “Torta paradiso,” he replies, delicately swaying the place to one side and then the other. “All'arancia”.

Alright. That you can see and smell. The delicate yet strong fragrance of the orange permeates the air, making your mouth salivate. The cake looks simple, barely decorated with a bit of powdered sugar and orange zest on the top.

However, you don’t understand why Secondo is placing it right in front of your face, making it serpent like it’s tempting you to sin. “I can see that,” you continue, sitting straight on the couch. The heavy blankets fall around your waist and the cold air hits your skin, sending shivers down your arms and legs. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it myself.”

Oh.

That’s… something you didn’t see coming. A man like Secondo, who always looks angry and intimidating, doesn’t seem to be the type to spend any time in the kitchen baking something as delicate as a cake. Even more, he not only made it, but now he’s proudly displaying it to you.

“I didn’t know you could bake.”

“Can’t an old man have a hobby?”

Tripping over your words, you hurry to reassure him that it wasn’t your intention to question him. Secondo only laughs, a bitter but somehow calm sound that fills the air with warmth. He takes a sit next to you, motioning to move away the blankets. The ceramic plate is placed on the little coffee table.

For a few seconds, Secondo stares at the TV. There’s an old movie there, a cartoon you used to watch when you were years and years younger. This movie always brought comfort to you, awakening memories of hot beverages and butter cookies, of old friends and cozy socks.

Life used to be simpler before. Then, shit happened. Shit always happens, but it hits harder on days like these.

On your birthday.

No one remembered it. This day was just another day, only heavier on the heart. Maybe it’s all your fault. You are fool, as you have constantly been. Year after year, you hope for things to be different, better somehow.

A certain type of sadness fills your body and soul on your birthday. A sadness that walks behind, hugging your back and whispering heavy words in your ears.

No one cared.

No one celebrated it.

No one.

To your left, Secondo sighs. The sound halts the tears that were beginning to form on your eyes. In a swift movement, you hurry to clean any remnant of it, hoping he doesn’t notice it.

If he does, Papa says nothing. He merely reaches out to the plate, cutting a slice of cake before carefully placing it on a napkin. His gloved hand extends in your direction, leaving no place to deny him. You take it.

His gaze is intense and expectant, full of an emotion you can’t quite discern when you take the first bite. Is he nervous? Is he anxious? He’s looking right into your soul, analyzing every little twitch of your eyebrows and searching for any reaction.

The sweet and fresh taste of the cake fills your mouth. The texture is soft, airy and delicate, and the taste of orange and vanilla is comforting. You nod, a smile on your lips. “This is so good!”

“I’m happy to hear that,” he says, letting himself fall on the couch. For another long moment, he stays in silence. His eyes absentmindedly look into the TV, before closing as he exhales. “Happy birthday, kid.”

“You remembered it?”

“Isn’t it a Papa’s duty to remember this stuff?”

Right. A duty. It’s foolish to think a busy man like Papa Emeritus II went out of his way to do something for your birthday, out of the kindness of his heart.

Maybe it’s the way your gaze obscures, or the heavy lump on your weary shoulders, but he hurries to continue. “I mean, I care about every Sibling. I know most of us don’t fit outside this Ministry, but we are a family here. If we have nothing else, at least we have each other.”

The strange softness in his eyes makes you swallow dry. Papa is a stern man, someone who mostly keeps to himself when he’s not surrounded by women. And yet, there’s something deep inside his pupils, a dark veil of emotions that tells you he understands.

Papa is a sad, sensitive and lonely man at heart. “Do you really like it?” he questions, after a beat. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make this or a torta caprese.”

“I liked it,” you repeat. Papa smiles, reaching out to wipe a bit of powered sugar from the corner of your mouth.

“So, what are we watching?”

Excitement filling your voice, you explain. Papa listens, nodding a few times in an effort to encourage you to keep talking. When the movie continues, his eyes remain on the screen for a few minutes before you detect the faint sound of his snores.

Oh, well. Papa is also an exhausted, old man. Leaning closer to his body, you wrap the corner of the blanket around him. Head on his shoulder, you take a deep breath and close your eyes too.

[thetomorrowshow]

out of aces

trust au masterlist

this one has been long in the works ksdhfjk (mostly bc i left it open as a tag for weeks on end while working on future parts)

cw: previously existing eating disorder, ptsd

~

It’s still early evening when Scott circles down over the Cod Empire, drawing his wings in tight to dive. Some of the citizens point up at him, one child waves. Cautiously, Scott waves back.

He’s had far too long of a day. Between three different meetings and hours spent poring over boring courting and marriage rituals whilst searching for some answer on how to handle Xornoth, it feels as though it’s been five times as long as normal.

He really just wants a good night’s sleep.

He lands smoothly in front of Jimmy’s residence, doesn’t bother knocking before coming in—the door, as always, is unlocked. Scott clicks his tongue, reminds himself to once again tell Jimmy that he needs to keep it locked. 

The rich, warm scent of food hits Scott in a wave and he takes a moment to inhale. Jimmy’s house is always so homey, compared to his palace. From the kitchen, Jimmy looks up and awkwardly salutes.

“Bit early tonight,” Jimmy observes, glancing out the window. His brow furrows anxiously; Scott’s quick to smooth over the issue.

“My advisors think I’m here for the weekend on invitation from you for discussions on how to approach the House Blossom matter,” Scott explains, but the anxiety on Jimmy’s face only grows.

“I nearly forgot that was coming up,” Jimmy says quietly. Scott understands—this meeting with Katherine will end in the dissolution of the House Blossom alliance, no matter what side Katherine takes. Scott’s had quite the challenge keeping his kidnapping a secret these past couple of weeks, but he’d been advised to wait, see how other empires reacted to his clear war preparations. Now it’s time to confront Katherine and ask her to join him and the rest of the Codfather alliance in this fight.

He’s more than a little nervous. So is Jimmy, clearly.

“Well, good thing you’re here, because stew is ready!” The subject change is conspicuous, but Scott lets it slide. He notices a pot over the woodstove, now that Jimmy mentions it—and if Scott isn’t mistaken, what Jimmy is ladling into a bowl is the same stew Jimmy made last week: the first thing that Scott managed to eat from Jimmy.

Jimmy takes a bite out of the stew, making sure to scrape the spoon along the bottom of the bowl, and noticeably swallows before handing it to Scott. Most of the nerves that had suddenly begun bundling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of food are gone, leaving it rather empty. He tugs off his gloves and carefully maneuvers his wings out of his travel coat, which he hangs on the hook beside the door, before sitting down at the rough wooden table and digging in.

It’s a little chewier than last time, but otherwise a wonderfully savory beef stew that has a good ratio of vegetables to gravy. His bowl is empty in mere minutes, just as Jimmy sets a hot bread roll on a napkin beside him.

Scott’s eaten bread before. He actually had bread yesterday, but the difference had been that he had made it—and even then, he’d only eaten a couple of slices before he couldn’t trust it any longer. He’s never eaten bread that Jimmy made, and while he doesn’t believe that Jimmy would purposefully put something in it, it’s always a possibility.

He eyes it suspiciously, and with a little widening of his eyes, Jimmy picks it back up and takes a bite out of it. “You don’t have to eat it,” he assures, a gentle smile quirking his lips. “I was just already making rolls and thought you might like one. It’s okay if not.”

Scott contemplates it. Breaks it open. Sniffs it. Steam rises up to his nose. It seems . . . it seems fine. Like a normal dinner roll.

Still, the idea of eating it makes his heart jump into his throat. Already, the bowl of stew sits almost uncomfortably in his stomach, more food than he’s used to consuming in one sitting.

There’s no pressure to eat it. Jimmy told him so. There’s no expectation on him here, in the quiet of Jimmy’s home. There never is. Maybe that’s why Scott’s here every single night.

He just knows he’s looking particularly pale as he wonders what his council would think if they knew that he sneaks out nightly like a lovesick teenager to crawl into bed with his crush. Of course, there’s nothing romantic between them—and there never will be, if Scott has his way, he never wants to make Jimmy uncomfortable—but there’s only one way for his actions to be perceived.

He doesn’t want to think about that, though. Thinking about how much he likes Jimmy with Jimmy right here is sure to lead to him doing something embarrassing. So, he clears his throat and asks the first thing he can think of.

“Any trouble from Sausage?”

“Not really,” Jimmy says, now sitting opposite Scott, his own bowl full of stew and two rolls beside it. His gaze turns troubled, though, and he adds slowly, “I did catch him and fWhip sneaking around real early this morning by the border, but they left once I arrived.”

Scott’s shoving back his chair and standing before he even realizes it, heart skipping a beat. No, if they were here—if they—

“Did they hurt you?” he asks frantically, and Jimmy’s reassurances that he’s fine do nothing to hide the way he brings his left hand to cover a bandage on his right forearm.

Scott grabs his arm, ignoring the way Jimmy flinches back as he turns it this way and that, scanning his skin for damage. There’s nothing recent aside from the bandage, and he reluctantly lets his arm fall.

“Really, that’s it,” Jimmy says, rubbing his arm. “It just . . . fWhip shoved me over, and I landed on a sharp rock. They were . . . they were in a hurry, I think.”

“That’s suspicious,” Scott says instantly, wracking his brains for any reason that they might’ve been here. The obvious answer is that they were looking to antagonize Jimmy, but they had left as soon as Jimmy appeared, implying that their intentions had been less than honorable. It’s very possible that they had been attempting to sneak through the Cod Empire on their way to scout out the Ocean Empire, but Jimmy had either thwarted them or caught them on their return trip.

He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all.

“Has anything changed?” asks Scott, glancing around, though he knows that nothing would be missing from Jimmy’s home. “Did you alert Lizzie? Was there anything—”

“Scott.”

He looks back at Jimmy, who is eyeing him with a—a strangely fond look. “Yes?”

“I’ve dealt with them for years,” he says, raising his hands placatingly. “All things considered, this was a good interaction with those guys. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll look around in the morning and ask my guards if anything suspicious happened.”

It does make him feel better, so Scott nods his agreement and accepts that there’s nothing more they can do at the moment. In all likelihood, everything’s fine and he’s making a big deal out of nothing, so it’s the least he can do to stop asking Jimmy to worry about it.

He doesn’t end up eating the roll. It’s a disappointment, even if Jimmy doesn’t say so. Scott watches him toss the roll into the composter out back, shame licking at the insides of his stomach.

He’ll eat breakfast tomorrow. He has to.

The shame is mostly forgotten as they while away the evening talking, and for the moment it feels like it did before Scott was hoarding these awful, taboo feelings for Jimmy—casual, friendly, light. He manages to laugh at a joke and tell one in return, dry teasing that turns into a fit of giggles when Jimmy goes red and starts sputtering a weak rebuttal. The jokes wind down into general discussion, gradually getting deeper (as conversations are wont to do) until both of them are yawning and barely keeping track of what they’re talking about.

It’s nice, and the air doesn’t lose its friendliness when they crawl into bed together and turn out the light.

-

Scott wakes late the next morning alone.

He can't breathe for a second, he’s alone and he doesn’t know why because Jimmy was here when he went to sleep and he’s supposed to stay—

Scott forces himself to breathe against the imagined bands around his chest. Jimmy’s a busy emperor who has the right to go wherever he wants whenever he wants, and Scott can’t expect him to hang around when there’s work to be done.

It takes far too long for the bands to loosen, minutes that Scott spends cursing himself for not having a better handle on his emotions—it’s just Jimmy, and Jimmy’s just another person. Scott doesn’t need another person there to stay in control.

(The irony of him sitting on Jimmy’s bed while telling himself that does not escape him.) 

He rolls out of bed once he feels like he can properly breathe again and slips into the casual clothes he’d brought for today, pointedly not looking at the ornate official set he’d brought to wear to the Overgrown tomorrow. He can only imagine all the horribly diplomatic things he’ll say in those, trying to save both an alliance and a friendship.

He wanders out to the main living space and finds it empty and quiet, the only sounds the gentle lap of water at the shore and a bird chirping through the open window.

Jimmy must have been called away early. Not that it isn’t okay—it’s Jimmy’s empire, after all—but it does worry Scott.

There's no breakfast set out on the table and no dishes in the sink, so to distract himself, Scott goes through Jimmy’s cupboards and icebox before deciding to fry up some eggs with a couple of pieces of pork he found lying around. The milk and the bread have been delivered, so Scott puts the milk in the icebox and the bread on the table and cooks, trying not to think too hard about where Jimmy might be.

Soon enough the eggs are fried and the pork is sizzling, so Scott sets out two plates and the required silverware and some salt and pepper for seasoning (not that he’s going to be using it, but Jimmy tends to over-pepper just about everything).

He’s just sliding the pork out of the pan when the front door slams open.

Scott drops to the ground before he can even think, fear shooting through every limb. Something’s wrong, something bad has happened, they’re here to take him back there—

“Scott! Scott, it’s okay, I just—well, it’s not okay, but—”

And then Jimmy’s there, helping him up, and Scott can blink past the sudden static of fear and focus on Jimmy.

Jimmy’s smiling, but it’s tense, forced, and Scott knows right away that he’s trying to hide whatever’s wrong so he can help him feel safe.

Jimmy’s too good for him, Jimmy’s wonderful, Jimmy’s the best person in the world and Scott is in no way worthy of him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he demands, extricating himself from Jimmy’s hold. He corrects his balance when he stumbles, wings fluttering behind him, and the stumble makes Jimmy bite his lip a bit and reach out, but pull back. His hands shake.

“The Codfather head. It’s gone.”

Okay. Not nearly as bad as the emergencies his mind had already conjured. Thoughts of invasion, torture, had filled his head, but here the worst case scenario is robbery. If his crown had been stolen, he would’ve been miffed about the lost history, but it ultimately wouldn’t matter too much.

It clearly means a lot to Jimmy—his eyes are going all watery—so Scott swallows down the last of his fear and gestures to the table. He can be the comfort this once.

“I made breakfast, how about you sit down and—”

“Scott, you don’t—it’s gone, Scott, it’s gone, and—”

“Sit down,” Scott says again, pulling out a chair, but Jimmy doesn’t sit, hands curled in his hair, as he begins to pace.

“I don’t know—there’s nothing—”

It’s—

It’s just a crown, isn’t it?

“Jimmy, please explain,” Scott asks, and he fights to keep his constant level of irritation (useful vocal habit to develop as an emperor, far less useful as a friend) out of his voice because if this is actually something important, he needs to know why—but he doesn’t want to agitate Jimmy any further. 

Jimmy freezes, turns back to face Scott. A tear has escaped the corner of his eye, slowly traveling down his cheek. “The Codfather head,” he says, his voice trembling, “holds the claim to the throne.”

Oh.

Oh no. That’s not good at all.

But it still isn’t terrible.

It’s certainly a bad thing to occur, but the empires aren’t savages. One can’t just steal another’s crown and declare themself king—there’s a royal lineage and the crown is merely the birthright, not the declaration. With a bit of luck, they can actually manipulate this in their favor with their meeting tomorrow, sow seeds of dissent against Sausage and fWhip—because of course they must’ve stolen it, Scott hadn’t forgotten yesterday’s mention of them at all.

“That’s bad,” Scott agrees, maintaining the note of calm, “but not insurmountable. We should be fine—everyone knows you, so if we announce now that it’s been stolen then you cannot be accused of creating a counterfeit if someone tries to steal your position—”

“No, you don’t—you don’t understand—” Jimmy’s back to pacing, hands no longer pulling at his hair and instead wrapped around himself in a self-hug. “I need the head, Scott, I need it—”

“I know, but as long as you can prove your royal heritage, you’re going to be fine. I mean, a lot of extra paperwork, I bet, but . . . Jimmy?”

He trails off, because Jimmy—Jimmy has gone utterly still, tension in every line of his body.

Scott takes a moment, tracks back his entire sentence, before it hits him.

His heart sinks.

He can barely force himself to ask the question. “You . . . you can prove your royal heritage, can’t you?”

At Jimmy’s miserable shake of his head, Scott is rendered speechless. For several long moments, all he can do is stare at Jimmy in disbelief as his shoulders begin to shake, head ducked.

“What?” he eventually says, and he can barely comprehend that Jimmy— “You—you don’t have a right to the—you’re a usurper?”

“That’s the issue,” whispers Jimmy. “I don’t know.”

-

They’re sitting in Jimmy’s living room now, breakfast left forgotten on the table. Jimmy had pressed a cup of tea into Scott’s hands that he knows he’s not going to drink, but he holds onto it for Jimmy’s peace of mind.

“How much do you know about the Cod Empire’s history?” asks Jimmy, fingers tapping anxiously against his knee. Scott casts his mind back to what he’d learned from his tutor in childhood—not much, in this regard.

“It’s been around for a while?” he hazards. “It formed as an off-shoot of the Ocean Empire, as far as we know—but both empires were entirely underwater for centuries. They’ve only surfaced in recent history, but I was told that we didn’t have any contact with the Ocean Empire until Lizzie joined House Blossom close to thirty years ago. Everybody sort of—” he grimaces— “We all ignored the Cod Empire for decades because it always looked like it was made of . . . lesser . . . people, I suppose.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you lot thought we were savages, I know. We were normal, just . . . fighting a long war. Or, they were.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Scott’s stomach as he hears the pronoun change. Jimmy doesn’t count himself as a citizen of his own empire. That can’t be good.

Jimmy sighs, sips his own tea. “Scott, when was the first you’d heard of me?”

“Ten years ago,” Scott replies instantly. He remembers the meeting like it was yesterday. “Pixl came to the House Blossom meeting one month to announce that he’d reached out to the Cod Empire and made contact with a new ruler who was looking to make alliances and open borders for the first time. But what—”

“Ten years ago,” Jimmy interrupts. “No knowledge of me before that? No knowledge of any predecessors?”

“Well, as I said, we didn’t exactly pay any mind to the Cod Empire—”

“There was a royal family. But the Cod Empire was engaged in a war for many, many decades without help. About twenty-some years ago, the last member of the royal line was killed in battle.”

“So you’re a conqueror?”

“I—I don’t think so?” Jimmy winces, sets his tea down to scrub at his face. “Scott,” he explains patiently, “the first thing I remember is waking up on a beach and not being able to breathe.”

Weird direction to take, but all right. Scott frowns. “As a child?”

“Ten years ago,” Jimmy corrects. “I was quite a bit more—er, fish-like, then, and my on-land lungs hadn’t grown to the capacity I needed for full-time land breathing. And there was this temple nearby, and—” he swallows, and his eyes are shining with tears that Scott wants nothing more than to wipe away— “and inside was the Codfather head, and I put it on—to see if it would help, and it did, and—here I am.”

The last bit comes out as a whisper, so quiet Scott can barely hear him.

“I don’t remember anything,” Jimmy says shakily. “Nothing before then. Where I came from, who I am. I’m not—I’m not a salmon, obviously, but I don’t have the right to rule. I’ve just been—doing my best.”

Jimmy finishes, hangs his head. And Scott. . . .

If he weren’t already sitting down, he’d have to sit down.

This is—this is so much information, this is enough information to start a war with, and here Scott is in the middle of it trying to make sense.

He has so many questions—starting with why and how and everything in between, but without his input, the stupidest one falls from his lips.

“You have amnesia? But you don’t act like it.”

Jimmy gives him a dry look. “And what on earth do amnesiacs act like?” he challenges. “I can’t remember anything before ten years ago. How else am I meant to act?”

Scott swallows, his face going pale in embarrassment. Stupid questions and all that. “Right. Sorry. But—you’re cod, aren’t you? How do you know that you aren’t some long-lost descendant of the royal line?”

“I could be,” Jimmy shrugs, “but—I can’t prove it. There are other cod hybrids, you know, the empire’s practically made of them. And—there’s another thing, Scott.”

Another thing? This is already a giant issue, how could there be more?

Jimmy looks like he’s about to cry again when he speaks. He looks around, as if to double-check that they’re alone. “You can’t tell anyone this. But—me being in danger puts Lizzie in danger.”

“Because you’re siblings,” Scott realizes as Jimmy says it. Aeor above, this is a mess. “And she doesn’t—?”

“Nothing before thirty-odd years ago,” Jimmy confirms. “The only thing we’ve managed to figure out is that we’re siblings, so the amnesia must run in the family.”

Scott sits back, processing just . . . how much information he’s received. Jimmy is not only a usurper to the throne of the Cod Empire (and a rather good one at that, seeing as he’s managed to pull it together for the first time in centuries), but also amnesiac and . . . possibly more than a simple cod hybrid, given the implications of his body so quickly evolving to fit his needs. That’s not exactly what’s important, though.

He should report this to the House Blossom council. Years of tutoring and training are screaming for him to immediately cut all ties with Jimmy and make certain that everyone knows he’s a false ruler, an imposter who could catch them all by surprise at any moment.

He really oughtn’t interact with Jimmy or Lizzie ever again.

“You need to hide, then,” Scott says instead, and that’s it. He’s more committed to Jimmy than he is to his common sense, and maybe that’s a good thing and maybe it isn’t, but the facts are that fWhip and Sausage likely have the Codfather head (he knew he was right to be more concerned last night) and Jimmy needs to get out of here as soon as can be arranged. “We can go to Rivendell—it’s near impenetrable, we can—”

“Scott, I can’t go to Rivendell,” Jimmy shuts him down, voice firm. When Scott raises an eyebrow, Jimmy continues, eyes down, cheeks coloring pink. “I—we’re new allies, we’re young, we’ve been spending a lot of time together—I mean, people have been gossiping ever since we danced together twice at the wedding. It would—me, going to Rivendell? It would be a scandal.”

Jimmy’s fully red in the face by the time he’s done speaking, and he ducks his head to try and unsuccessfully hide it. Scott can feel his own face pale at the implications—of course Jimmy can’t stay in Rivendell, of course that would be inappropriate—he’s such an idiot sometimes—

“Right,” he blusters, trying to cover his mistake. “Uh, Lizzie’s, then? It’s fairly—oh, but—”

“That puts Lizzie into the public eye,” Jimmy finishes, standing. “And her people know me too well—they would be confused if I never appeared publicly and they would notice—”

“Joel?” Scott throws out, standing as well to pace the length of the room. He sets his teacup down beside the now-cold breakfast on the table. “Mezeleans are—well, they’re strange folk, surely they won’t ask—”

“Scott, Mezelea’s too hot for you, you’d get sick,��� Jimmy butts in, an adorable little crease between his eyebrows.

Scott blinks a couple of times. “I—Jimmy, this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

“Well, yeah, but I figured you’d still be coming over at night.”

Maybe it’s stupidity, maybe it’s innocence, maybe it’s the open selflessness that’s always been such an essential part of Jimmy, but those words leave Scott gaping. Jimmy’s rule—Jimmy’s life is in peril, and he’s still thinking of Scott first.

His heart wants to shatter.

He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat.

“It doesn’t matter, though, does it—Mezelea might work temporarily, but it’s too dry for you, isn’t it?” At Jimmy’s nod, Scott continues. “Pixandria is far enough to put you out of mind, but there’s the same dry heat problem—”

“And Katherine’s still allies with all of them, I can’t go there—”

And there’s no one else. That’s all of their options, neatly exhausted.

There’s nowhere. There’s nowhere they can hide Jimmy, short of some hut in the forest—but that would be just as bad as ceding victory to fWhip and Sausage, they could declare Jimmy a traitor or dead and take his throne—

Whatever they do, they’ll have to find a loophole in the laws of the land, something that allows him to remain closed-off from investigation—but he’s an emperor, what could apply to him? Most laws are built to apply to everyone but the rulers, so they’d have to find a law that either encompasses all or focuses on royalty, as unlikely as that would be.

Scott’s been reading a lot lately, spending long hours each day in the library, perusing book after book in search of any ancient laws of any land, any way he could restrict the demon from being freed—it’s where he’d learned that the Ender Dragon imprisons Exor’s heir—and in those stacks he’d found—

He’d been so tired yesterday, but there was time for one more; he cracked open a book on sacred Rivendell customs and law, and he’d found himself boredly skimming through a section that he hadn’t paid much mind to in school, one that everyone knew because it had always been—

Oh.

Oh no.

There is one law that he knows of. One that could keep Jimmy safe for quite some time.

“Jimmy,” Scott says after a moment—he doesn’t want this one, doesn’t want to do this to Jimmy, but there’s no time, his heart is racing and his mind frantically searching for any other option but there isn’t one— “Please—please don’t take this as indicative of my respect for you nor my typical chivalry, but—Rivendell is safe for you on one condition.”

Jimmy sighs, stress and exhaustion and adrenaline all dripping from the sound. “Scott, we can’t—it’s dangerous enough that—”

“Agree to marry me,” Scott says over him before he can lose his courage, “and I can promise your safety.”

Jimmy stares at him.

The house is suddenly eerily silent.

“Are—”

“I’m not trying to coerce you into a marriage, I promise, I’m not taking advantage of your vulnerable position, I just—” he cuts himself off as Jimmy doesn’t do so much as blink, and dear Aeor this is the most embarrassed Scott’s been in years— “Forget I said anything, let’s—what if you stayed indoors at Pixandria the entire time, in a pool or—”

“Explain,” interrupts Jimmy, then, softer, “please.”

Where does he even begin?

“There are laws,” Scott decides on after several long moments. He’d just been reading over those laws, it’s true, but they’re rather complex and he doesn’t think he’d have been able to easily understand them without having grown up with them. He’ll have to simplify this the best he can. “See, elves live quite a bit longer than most races—I’m very young for a ruler, most of my advisors are well over eight hundred years old—and because of that, there are sacred laws and customs around marriage. They want to make sure you’re committed to your partner, see,” he adds, perhaps unnecessarily. “So the betrothed couple, by ancient law, must live in seclusion for an entire year before marrying. They are not permitted to be seen by anyone during this period.”

He doesn’t look at Jimmy now. He turns away, fiddles with the ties on the front of his shirt. He’s honestly just trying to help, but he knows if Jimmy turns down his plan he’ll be utterly crushed. It’s not meant to mean anything. It’s just to protect Jimmy. Yet to some selfish part of Scott’s mind (possibly the part to suggest it in the first place), it means everything.

“You’re the emperor, though,” Jimmy says behind him. Scott can’t tell what he’s thinking, voice flat and emotionless. “I’m one, too. How will we do our jobs?”

“Well, the law’s been adjusted some with modern times—they’ll likely give us veils, gloves, the like—but Elinus alone, not to mention the other members of my council, would fight an entire army to uphold these laws. No one would see that you don’t have the Codfather head. Most people wouldn’t even be able to speak with you—we’d both be practically locked up in my palace, which, I know, sounds terribly boring—but you’d be safe,” Scott stresses, “and as soon as we have the Codfather head back, we can break off the engagement. I swear it.”

There. His piece is said, and now it’s time to think of a real solution. One that doesn’t force Jimmy to pretend to be engaged to him. Scott falls back into one of the kitchen chairs, head in his hands. This is an utter disaster. Adrenaline is still coursing through his veins, they have to get Jimmy out of here, they have to do it now he isn’t safe—

“I’ll do it.”

Scott whips around, sees the pink dusting Jimmy’s cheeks, the determined gleam in his eyes. “You don’t have—” Scott begins, but Jimmy cuts him off.

“I’m an emperor, aren’t I? This is for my people. You’re right. It’s a good plan, it’ll keep them safe and keep suspicion off me.”

Surely there’s another way. Surely there’s something they haven’t come up with.

But there’s no time to try and find it. Every minute they spend discussing is another minute that fWhip could be spending bringing this to the attention of the House Blossom council.

This is going to break his heart.

Scott nods. He moves almost mechanically to go into the bedroom, gather his things, but Jimmy catches him by the arm, lips turned in a bit of a pout.

“I expect a good ring to make up for this proposal,” he teases.

Dear Aeor.

[missmeinyourbones]

hi L!! i was the anon yesterday that said i have covid haha thank you for the well wishes❤️❤️ i’m feeling better today but now i have an ear infection 🥲

anyways, congrats again on 2k and could i request mr. jean kirstein with prompt 43 for your event :)))

it was so hard to pick one bc so much of lover is jean in my mind <3

43. I ONCE BELIEVED LOVE WOULD BE BURNIN’ RED, BUT IT’S GOLDEN (jean kirstein x reader)

for L’s lover event! based on these prompts

They say that some of the biggest realizations come to you in everyday scenarios.

Normal, mundane little moments that are usually held of no importance or groundbreaking finding—something about paying attention to their tiny details, their nooks and crannies, humbles you more than any moment filled with extravagance and glamor ever could. 

Folding laundry in silence with your lover is not something unusual, but today, it feels different. Intimate and grounding in a way that it never has been before. 

Looking down at the piles of clean clothes surrounding you, you notice how they’re separated into the different loads that they were washed in—whites, delicates, colors, denims. You think about how funny it is that Jean has learned to organize them according to your liking, how he’s silently and quickly adapted to your little quirks of routine—forcing himself to fit into your world like grease applied to a squeaky wheel. 

Maybe it’s the normalcy of it all—the way he hums to himself as he shakes out one of your cream-colored dresses from the hamper, the way the sunlight peaks in from the curtains as the day approaches late afternoon, the way the pairs of socks rolled up into little balls of fluff look like toys you’d buy for a kitten to swat and toss around. 

Whatever is it, something about the moment makes it feel too surreal, and drives you to ask your lover something that occupies your mind quite frequently.

“Do you ever associate things with colors?” 

Jean’s short and choppy chuckle causes you to look up from the assorted piles. “M’gonna need you to expand on that for me,” his voice is entertained, yet far away. 

He’s focused as he struggles to fold a mint green bath towel correctly, the opposite end of it in between his teeth to give him a bit of leverage and work as an extra hand. You think about teasing him that these are clean clothes, and putting them in his mouth defeats the whole purpose of washing them—but you can only imagine the comment he’d bite back about your opinion on him putting things in his mouth. You choose to shake your head and grab the other end of the towel, meeting him half way. 

“Y’know, things that don’t necessarily have colors, like people or feelings,” you explain yourself as your hands meet his in the middle of where the corners of the towel touch, “Do you ever see someone and think ‘they feel like a purple’ or ‘this friendship feels like a brown’?”

Jean feels the sudden urge to laugh again, but the more he ponders the question, the more he finds himself agreeing with your odd outlook. 

“Now that you mention it, yeah—maybe I do.”

You perk up at his confession, eyes bright and curious to now know, “Well, what color am I?”

He fights back a grin at your enthusiasm as he thinks to himself, what color are you? You seem to have a knack for making him feel everything all at once, he doesn't think you’d ever be just one thing—let alone one color. Your love comes tints, like a whole color wheel of reds and blues and lights and darks and—

“Green,” comes to his mind and slips off his tongue before he can even attempt to rationalize it to himself.

“Green?” you curiously parrot back to him, nose slightly scrunched as you wait for him to elaborate. 

And after a moment of sorting through his own thoughts, he does.

“Y’know. Soft, natural, comforting,” he shrugs casually, picking up an old and worn-out grey t-shirt of his, one that he recognizes as one of your sleep shirts, “Feels like home.”

He hears you hum at his answer, seeming content with the color he chose to pair you with. You return to folding, picking up a pair of ash-blue jeans and gently pressing down on their creases, preventing them from potential wrinkles once stored away. 

“You’re like...an orangey-pink,” you speak up after a moment. Now, it’s Jean’s turn to shift his attention away from the clothing in hand and onto you, his head slightly turned to the side out of curiosity. 

You throw a lilac hand towel his way before explaining, “Fun and warm, kinda like a sunset.”

He smirks to himself, picking up the towel that landed flat against his chest and folding it over a few times into a stackable rectangle. 

“What about feelings?” he inquiries, chewing on the inside of his cheek—a bad habit he’d developed when listening intently. 

You smile at his question, grateful you can talk about such a silly concept with him in such an intimate and oddly serious manner. You focus on the shirt in hand, one that was originally white but had turned a light shade of blush after one of Jean’s early and horrid attempts at laundry.

“I once believed that love would be something neon and intense,” you reveal in a soft whisper, “Like a bright, burning red.”

Your change in tone and ominous statement leads Jean to believe that the love you feel—the love he gives to you—isn’t red, so he waits for you to go on. To reveal something as personal and intimidating and foolish as the specific color of love the two of you share. He’d wait ages to hear it, if it means as much to you as it seems to.  

“But I was wrong,” you shrug simply, before putting down the shirt in hand and looking at your lover. His hazel eyes swim with interest and adoration as he anticipates your answer. They glimmer with shades of deep browns and hues of sparkling yellows. 

They make you decide, in that very moment, “It’s golden.”

NOTE: i got a few requests for jean, specifically with this prompt...i couldn’t say no to him + daylight (part of me wants this to be my wedding song ;-;) as for you anon, im glad ur feeling a bit better covid wise and i hope ur ear infection subsides soon <3 lol 

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hello ! How are you? I still really like the way you write :D I would like to request again if possible. With fem reader or no gender as you want. R is sick let’s says she caught the corona, and had to stay at home. The girls can’t stay at home bc of work, so they called for a doctor. This doc is a very very sexy (the one… where you can find on… well… voilà) doctor. She shows a bit too much, well you have the idea I think… R doesn’t really mind it but… what would be the girls reaction ?

Sorry I have this kind of idea out of nowhere (I swear!) You can of course make it soft ! Lol

With any girls ! Maybe with a Keqing her reaction can be very priceless :)

Thank you 😊

Keqing and Jean being jealous

characters: Keqing/Jean x gn!reader (seperate)

warnings: mentions of jealousy (if that's something worth mentioning)

a/n: I'm sorry that I only wrote for two characters, but I just felt like it would have taken too long to write for a third one, especially since I made them longer than usual. But I think I did a pretty good job this time.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Keqing

When you got sick Keqing instantly knew that she wouldn’t be able to take care of you. There was a lot of work to do and someone with such an important job as her couldn’t take off a couple of days just because someone close to them was a feeling a little sick. But her demanding job luckily came with a lot of money, which made it possible for her to hire the best of the best to take care of you in her stead.

But when the doctor appeared in front of your shared home, Keqing instantly noticed that she wasn’t an old hag, coming out of the swamp, like she imagined someone with her reputation as a wonder-healer to have, far from it. But Keqing knew well enough, that it was far too late to send her home now, it would make her jealousy too obvious and she had already paid quite a sum of money in advance. So the Yuheng went to work, trying her best not to think about the two of you, but even her best wasn’t enough, as her mind kept wandering to the thought of you being taken care of by a woman that wasn’t her.

The moment she was free to leave work, Keqing instantly raced back to your home, only slowing down when people around her stared at her in confusion, not understanding why the Yuheng was in such a haste. And when she arrived home, she tried masking her jealousy with a smile and thanked the doctor, before telling her that she could leave the two of you alone.

When you woke up the next morning, still feeling quite a bit sick, you instantly grew confused upon realising that Keqing was still at home. Normally she would leave early in the morning, and while your first thought was, that you simply woke up quite a bit earlier than usual, one single glance out of the window was enough to disprove your assumption.

“You’re still at home?”, you asked Keqing in a raspy voice, only for her to get startled by you suddenly being awake and nearly dropping the cup of tea she was about to bring you.

“Of course, someone has to take care of you while you’re sick”, she stated, quickly regaining her composure and handing you the tea after you sat up.

“Wasn’t there this doctor yesterday that was meant to do that?”, you questioned her in-between your sips. “Didn’t you say that you needed to work-”

“Well, work can wait for a day. I’m sure that the Qixing can afford enough employees to take over my workload for today”, she cut you off, getting defensive. You were once again left confused by her attitude, that was until you finally put the pieces together.

“Keqing, were you jealous of the doctor?”, you expected her to cut you off once again, but the only reaction you got out of her was silence and a quickly developing blush.

“Why would I get jealous of a doctor? I’m part of the Liyue Qixing, I have no one to be jealous of”, Keqing eventually responded before turning her face away from you. But instead of answering like she expected you to, you said nothing, and when she eventually looked back at your face, she was met with a self-satisfied grin and an unbelieving nod.

“You should lay back down, you’re clearly still very ill if you’re spewing nonsense like that”, she said with a pout before turning away and going to the kitchen. “I’m going to make you some soup, you clearly need it.”

Jean

Jean felt bad for not being able to take care of you, but Mondstadt needed her attention and she would never be able to forgive herself, if she decided to delegate her work for a day and something bad happened. Her first instinct was to ask her sister to watch over you, but when she found out that the church itself was quite busy, she had to hire a healer she only knew by name.

When the doctor appeared at your house, Jean found her to be a very nice person, but whenever her eyes landed on the woman, she couldn’t help but feel an ugly feeling.

At first she tried simply ignoring it, but when her colleagues at the Knights of Favonius noticed her overwork herself even more than usual, they had to lock her out of her office the next time she left it. After confronted Jean about it and Lisa diagnosing her with jealousy, they forced her to leave early for the day. Jean slowly made her way home, feeling ashamed of herself for being jealous and not trusting you entirely.

When you heard the door to your home open, the doctor had just finished the last of her tests, Jean instantly went to thank her, feeling visibly exhausted. The woman taking care of you quickly packed her things before telling the acting Grandmaster what to do about your illness and left, leaving both Jean and you in silence.

“You’re home much earlier than usual, did something happen?”, you finally spoke up, feeling worried. Something bad had to have happened for Jean to come home this early, but just when your mind started speculating, she calmed you down.

“Nothing happened, I was just sent home by my colleagues”, she answered with a bit of melancholy in her voice.

“Did you overwork yourself again?”, you asked and quickly got your answer when Jean silently nodded before sitting down next to you.

“I have to confess something”, she spoke up after taking one of your hands with both of hers, looking to the floor with a small blush on her face. “Even though someone in my position shouldn’t feel something like that, I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous today. I’m sorry for not trusting you completely and I swear on my honour that I will try to not do so again”, she told you in the tone she usually used when feeling like she disappointed someone.

You quickly hugged her tightly, completely forgetting that you were sick and could infect her with your illness. “Don’t worry Jean. You’re a human tto, so there’s no need to be ashamed for feeling something. Instead of bottling your feelings up, you told me, so that already makes you someone to be proud of”, you assured her.

“I know, but aren’t you disappointed at me for not trusting you?”, she asked silently only for you to shake your head.

“Of course not, I don’t even trust myself most of the time, so why should I expect you to fully do so?”, you answered before wanting to let out a laugh. Instead you flew into a coughing-fit and just then remembered that you were bedridden.

[c0ffinrehearsal]

snippet Sunday!!

thank u to all of my besties for tagging me in this love y'all @greenvlvetcouch, @colgatebluemintygel, @spindrifters & @cr-amber ♥♥♥

it only seems fair that I post 4 snippets, one for each tag :)

next chapter of 'I've got diamonds in my eyes (for you)'

“Why are the elevators out of service again? This is homophobic.” Remus’s voice is strained, muffled behind the cardboard box in his hands - he kicks the apartment door closed with one socked foot and shoves the box on to the kitchen counter. Sirius laughs at Remus from the floor, sprawled out on the hardwood of his living room. Their living room.  Each wall is lined to the ceiling with boxes. The couch is covered in clothes on hangers, draped along the back of it - thick sweaters, worn t-shirts and vintage jeans. Spread all across the apartment - from the two pairs of shoes by the door to extra pillows on the bed - are all the pieces of a newly shared space.

first chapter of foxfire, my self-indulgent Appalachian wolfstar AU

Fog rolls out along the highway like an old friend and Remus’s fingers flex in their grip on the steering wheel. The last time he was in Virginia he hadn’t even been old enough to drive, but he remembers his father cursing every time the fog came in. It settled over the mountain, blurring the trees and blotting out the gravel roads. Not for the first time, Remus wishes he had taken a plane. His sedan doesn’t even have fog lights, but then – he’s never needed them.   His family moved out of Virginia after the accident. It had been inevitable, really. Hope Howell had one foot out of the valley her entire life, and Lyall Lupin would follow her anywhere. They ended up in Pittsburgh, not quite escaping Appalachia afterall, but getting out of the mountains.  Remus remembers waking up in the backseat of his parent’s minivan just as they crossed the West End bridge - the lights of the city like stars in the open sky back home. It all seemed impossibly bright, busy, beautiful. He had fit in easily at school, young enough to morphe his deep southern drawl into something more neutral. Hope found work at a museum in their neighborhood, Lyall taking a position with US Steel. Their old life was a distant memory. There were no woods to get lost in, no trailers tucked on the side of a mountain or deep in a valley.

and there here's a couple snippets from the outline of my hp transfest fic - wolfstar & jegulus in 2005 baby!!!! the first one is sirius telling James that he's trans and talking about how uncomfy his binder is, the second is the whole squad meeting up at the club

* ‘you don’t have to wear that - you can take it off right now, if you wanted. i just finished washing some big shirts that came in yesterday, they’re in the dryer if you want to change’ * ‘ my chest isn’t that big,’ it feels weird to say this out loud to another human person. james flushes a little but sirius continues ‘i think with a big enough shirt and a flannel over it, no one will notice’ * ‘well it’s none of their damn business, if they do’ *sirius doesn’t know if he can talk, so he doesn’t. james says, ‘go ahead and change, i’ll count the till’ *sirius is putting on an oversized flannel when james pops his head in the back room and says, ‘hang on - you could pick any name you wanted and you chose sirius??’ *‘my family likes star names - i wanted to match with regulus.’ james looks sad in that deep, deep way that only happens when sirius mentions his family. they don’t talk about it again that day.

* remus goes in for a hug at the end of lunch and sirius panics bc he isn’t wearing a binder that day and they haven't had That Talk yet and he steps out of remus’s reach, laughs it off * remus looks a little sad and sirius says, ‘sorry, i just - didn’t get a lot of hugs as a kid.’  this is way too much of an explanation and now remus looks concerned and sirius BOLTS, but runs into James * ‘boys - come to the club with me tonight’ * ‘sirius, i am not asking - remus, we’d love for you to join us’ * remus looks at sirius who is rolling his eyes but looks excited and says, ‘sure, yeah - i’ll meet you there’ *the club is called ‘the double crown’ and it’s small, tucked away just on the outskirts of town *when sirius gets there james is standing by the bar with two women - a redhead and a blonde they’re holding hands. sirius feels less out of place. he’s wearing a lace t-shirt that’s cropped just to the hem of his binder, high-waisted black jeans with a silver belt made up of small stars connected all the way around. his hair is up in a messy bun, dangling star earrings, motorcycle boots making him an even 5’10 *remus comes in right after him, looks sirius over *‘cute boots - it’s nice to not have to lean down to get a look at your face’ *sirius flushes all over and james’s eyebrows shoot up *‘sirius, remus - this is lily, and mary! we just met, they’re my best friends’ he points at them when he says their names *lily, the redhead, reaches out to brush her knuckles against sirius’s shoulder, ‘nice to meet you star boy’ she turns to remus ‘and you, tall dark and brooding’

I think all of my mutuals have already been tagged lmao but if any of y'all haven't been, feel free <3

[marvelouspeterparker]

peter whispering in readers ear and realizing it makes her 💦 bc of his spidey senses and then using that to his advantage for like a whole day till reader is totally wrapped around his finger/willing to do anything to do anything bc she wants peter sooo bad and then some dom!peter action🤩🤩

 both reader and peter are 18+ in here !! 

this is lowkey filthy btw––and dedicated to @peterspideysstuff because she fueled my peter needs yesterday

it all started before first period when you were getting your things from your locker. peter snuck up behind you and slid his hands around your waist. you could feel his body heat as he pressed up behind you innocently, leaning his head over your shoulder to press a kiss on your cheek and greet you good morning. 

“hi princess.” you jumped slightly and straightened up, not because you were scared, but because of how silky his voice sounded in the morning. and fuck––that nickname. it’s like he was doing it on purpose. but no, he was just being your sweet, caring boyfriend. 

“h––hi pete.” you sighed, leaning into his embrace and he swayed side to side with you a couple times, his arms enveloping you tightly. 

“y’look so pretty today baby.” 

then in chemistry second period when peter leaned over to ask you if you were still coming over to his place after school. he set a hand on your thigh to get your attention, and the way his soft fingertips dug into your skin sent tingles all through your body. you were too stunned to even react properly. your legs immediately shut, trapping his hand between them and you heard him laugh quietly before whispering in your ear, his soft breath cascading down the side of your neck. he slid his hand down further and gripped your thigh tighter. 

“you still coming over later? may won’t be home.” 

you turned to look at him, but instead of being met with a smirk, you saw a soft smile on his face––huh, maybe he really didn’t know what he was doing to you.

“uh yeah, yeah of course,” you managed a smile and peter’s stretched out even more. 

“great!” he turned back to his work and after a few moments you felt his breath hit your ear again and you gasped. “you gonna give me my hand back any time soon, darling?”

your brows furrowed in confusion but a quick squeeze of your thigh reminded you that his hand was still trapped between your legs. “o––oh!” you opened your legs and he slid his hand off slowly, keeping contact with your skin until the last point possible. “sorry,” you mumbled, looking back at your work.

peter scanned your body, your composure, you were tense, your thighs shut tightly together––he could also smell you thanks to his heightened senses. there was no doubt about it––you were more than turned on. he kissed your cheek, enjoying the way your eyes widened slightly, “you’re so cute.”

you shrunk down in your seat and hid your face in your palm, resting your elbow on the table to try and calm down and focus on your work and peter couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

luckily for him, but unluckily for you, you both had all your classes together today, which meant peter was using this to his advantage––and yours too eventually.

he spent every moment he could, leaving lingering hands on you when no one was looking, kissing your cheek, whispering in your ear––things he very well could have said out loud at full volume just to rile you up. he could tell you were getting wetter and needier, and more submissive. 

when lunch came around, you were stuck to him like glue, trays side by side on the lunch table. your legs were intertwined with his, one leg crossed over his thigh as you ran the toe of your shoe up and down his calf. he had to straighten up and clear his throat a few times to calm himself down. 

everyone couldn’t help but notice how affectionate you were being––and they couldn’t not. the most pda you and peter would ever engage in was him kissing your knuckles, or kissing each others cheeks. this was new territory. 

no one was going to say anything of course, it was sort of an unspoken agreement. but of course flash had to break said agreement.

“you might as well sit in his lap, you know.” he was joking, of course. but it still took you by surprise. 

you looked up at flash with slightly wide eyes then up at peter. you were met with a cheeky smirk and him patting his thigh invitingly. 

you shrugged and maneuvered your way into his lap, lounging your legs sideways as you sat on his thigh and hid your face in his neck, leaving small kisses on his skin. peter rubbed your back gently and you practically purred, curling further into him. he made sure to glare at flash, daring him to say something else––he backed off immediately. 

peter left a small kiss on your cheek but before he pulled away he whispered “such a cute little thing you are.” you couldn’t help but whimper into his neck and you felt him smile as he went back to his conversation with ned. 

by the end of the day you were looking up at peter like a puppy, awaiting instructions, a small pout on your face. 

after class peter met you at your locker, “you ready to go babe?” 

you turned around immediately and wrapped your hands around his arm, “yup!” you were more than ecstatic to finally go home and peter found it adorable. 

he kissed your forehead and walked out with you, “alright sweetheart, let’s go home.” 

this all leads us to this very moment now. peter’s hand around your throat as he presses you into the door. that’s right, you hadn’t even made it fully into the apartment before breaking down and begging. “please peter––”

“all this cause i whispered some words into those pretty little ears of yours?” he brought hand up and you expected him to rest in on your cheek as he usually does, and you closed your eyes, ready to lean into his touch. but this time you felt his finger lightly trace around your ear from the top to the lobe and you shivered involuntarily, your eyes blowing open, making him smirk down at you. 

you looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy from how needy you were, “please pete. need you.”

he laughed, but this wasn’t his usual sweet laugh––this one was more menacing, almost. “i know sweetheart,” he leaned in to whisper in you ear once again, “could smell you dripping in your panties all day.” 

you gasped and dragged your gaze elsewhere but peter wasn’t having that. “no need to be shy, princess. we both know you’re just a needy little slut for me––”

you let out an involuntary moan, too turned on to be embarrassed anymore and he grabbed your waist and lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around him instinctively. 

he walked you into the bedroom and kicked the door closed before throwing you on the bed. you bounced up from the force of his throw and looked up at him in shock, your mouth slightly dropped open. 

he quickly shrugged off his shirt and threw it aside, and you regained your composure and did the same. when the two of you were completely naked, he crawled over to you on the bed so he was hovering over your. his lips grazed yours for a few seconds, teasing you, making you yearn for more. when your hands came up to hold his face, he grabbed them and pinned them above your head and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you.  

“so needy,” he whispered in your ear, trailing kisses down your neck and up the other side, “so obedient”, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled away to look you in the eyes, “so desperate for me, aren’t you?” 

you looked up at him, doe eyed, nodding along after almost every word that came out of his mouth. he licked his lips as he looked down at you. 

he grabbed both of your hands in one of his, still pinning them down and trailed his free one down your body, fingertips grazing your breast and your nipple before sliding down your stomach and stopping right before your center. 

“know you’re wet since i could smell you all day, but god baby, now that there’s nothing in the way...” he bit your collarbone before meeting your eyes again, “you smell absolutely delicious.” your back arched into him and he bit his lip at the feeling of your hard nipples and soft breasts pressing against his skin. but he was quick to pin you down again with his free hand. 

“gonna let me have my treat now?” now it was his turn to look at you with puppy dog eyes and the reality of it all was so ironic and so filthy. he was such a tease. he smirked, “i think i deserve a taste after being teased with it all day.” he leaned down and traced your jawline with his nose, nestling into your skin ever so softly, “wasn’t very nice of you––” he kissed your neck. “you were practically waving it around in my face. could smell you before i even saw you.” 

you whined in response and he chuckled softly. he let go of your hands and made his way between your legs. his fingers were grazing your skin as he slid down the bed and the feeling was only making you more antsy.

“spread em wide for me babygirl, that’s it.” he put your legs over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around your thighs before winking and quite literally diving into his meal. though he was giving you what you wanted, what you needed––it felt like he had no mercy whatsoever. it just felt too good.

you let out a sigh of relief and your hands came down to pull at his curls as tears pooled in your eyes, “f––fuck peter!”

he groaned and only started going faster, shaking his head as he locked you in place, forcing you to endure the pleasure. he really was restraining himself all day, he wanted nothing more than to sit you down on the table and bury his face between your thighs during chemistry, or during lunch, really any time he saw you––which was all day.

you interrupted his filthy train of thought when your thighs tightened around his head. “m’gonna cum baby––” it was more of a warning than a statement. peter hadn’t explicitly given you permission to cum, so his response? sitting up on his knees and practically folding you in half to devour you even more, intertwining his fingers on top of your waist to properly lock you into place. 

you screamed, hands gripping for your dear life at his hair, his arms, anywhere you could reach. your whole body felt like it was vibrating––and it took you a second to realize it was because it actually was. your legs were shaking and you could feel peter grinning between your thighs, tongue still working its way between your folds, quickly gliding over your clit. 

“shit oh my god––” your whole body was as tense as a bowstring, your eyes shut in ecstasy and peter did not stop until you had cum a second time in a row. 

he set your legs down and kissed your thigh before getting into place, “i’d clean you up,” he looked up from your pussy, “but i’m just about to make another mess down there, so there’s really no point.”

before you could even respond, he slid into you, bottoming out immediately. “oh fuck!––” 

he smiled and kissed your forehead, “tell me when i can move, princess.”

you wrapped your hands around his neck and gave him a quick peck before looking up at him. “you can fuck me hard, pete. want you to take me however you want.” 

he cursed quietly to himself before sitting up on his knees once more, grabbing your waist and thrusting into you hard. “god you feel so good.” soon, his hips were plowing into yours, his fingertips digging into your skin, bound to leave leave bruises. “such a good girl aren’t you, my good girl––”

his skin was slapping against yours, your body was jolting with every hit, “so tight, princess. so wet for me––” 

your hands reached down and grabbed his as best you could while he was holding you, “you gonna cum baby?” 

he nodded, grunting loudly, “fuck yeah i’m gonna cum inside this wet pussy. you gonna cum with me? can feel you clenching around me, shit––”

you nodded your head, your moans getting higher in pitch and when you clenched around him one last time, he let out a loud groan, his pace faltering and getting more sloppy as he released inside of you. 

the both of you let out content sighs, your bodies deflating like balloons as you lied down facing each other, still connected to one another. peter thrusted into you slowly a few more times, enjoying the small whines you let out. 

he pulled out of you and wrapped his arms around you, sighing, “i gotta whisper to you more often,” one of his hands slipped down to play with your wetness again as if to emphasize his point, “damn––”