#god ive been getting so plump it makes me so happy

[b0tster]

bloodborne kart isnt the only thing thats developing~

#goth #trans #transgender #lesbian #lgbt #god ive been getting so plump it makes me so happy

[writerpeach]

A White Christmas

IVE An Yujin x Jang Wonyoung x m!reader

1153 words, semi-smutless but still 18+, unedited, just a little something short and sweet for Christmas

part 4 of annyeongz

It’s nearly midnight. 

The fireplace crackles on a cold Christmas Eve, but you’re not lacking in warmth one bit. With Wonyoung and Yujin snuggled up next to you, a warm mug of cocoa in your hands, and this gorgeous snowfall that doesn’t seem to have any end in sight,  you have everything you could ask for. There’s a marathon of cheesy movies playing in the background that’s gone mostly ignored—but you enjoy the cheesy, the clichés, and the overly-happy-ever-after endings, because sometimes a little bit of escapism hits the spot. 

Wonyoung seems completely fascinated by snow, like every snowstorm is the first one she’s ever seen. And there’s something so special about it, how the snowflakes stick to the window, slowly blanketing everything as the night carries on; there’s something so pure and innocent about the never-ending white flurries—not unlike these two pretty girls on either side of you, although certainly their purity has been in question at times. 

Yujin is more focused on the fireplace, her soft brown eyes watching intently while Wonyoung indulges in stealing little pecks from the side of your cheek, the corner of your mouth, wherever she can land kisses without you turning your head, whenever the inclination hits her. It’s not dissimilar the way the snowflakes coat the ground, falling here, falling there, and everywhere in between. 

“When are we opening presents?” Wonyoung asks out of nowhere, her bright eyes look up at you expectantly, as her plump lips look so inviting for another kiss that you can’t help dive into. 

You look at the time and cock an eyebrow; there’s still a few minutes left until the clock strikes midnight. Your finger runs along the rim of your warm mug, and it’s hard not wanting to oblige Wonyoung as you take a sip, because patience and her go together like oil and water. Despite your efforts, Wonyoung knows you’re weak for that adorable pouty face, and you can only fight it for so long, 

“When it’s Christmas,” Yujin pipes up, a smile spreading over her pretty lips. “But only good girls get presents…”

Watching the pout deepen on Wonyoung’s lips, you look around the room, at the stockings above the fireplace, and the presents underneath the tree that are mostly for you. (Because god, these girls are impossible to shop for when they can buy anything their heart desires.)

You can only imagine what’s in those wrapped boxes piled around the tree. Car keys? An expensive watch? A dozen different gift cards with an obscenely almost unlimited limit? There’s nothing that you really need, but you can’t deny these two another chance of spoiling you against your better judgment. 

“But I am a good girl. Right, daddy?” It doesn’t take long for you to share a laughter with Yujin, as if Wonyoung hasn’t behaved anything less than sinful.

“Pretty sure Santa is going to skip right on over this place then. After the way you were screaming daddy in the shower earlier...you might be on the naughty list forever, princess." Yujin smirks devilishly, and Wonyoung huffs out loud, like she’s been told Christmas is canceled.  

“Fine. Santa can’t give me what I want anyways. Only daddy can…” Wonyoung whines cutely, nuzzling her head against your shoulder and kisses into your neck. You hesitate giving any reaction, knowing all too well what she really wants. It isn’t under the tree, or in the stocking—

“Dear daddy, I want a big load on my face for Christmas.” Wonyoung says it all cute and pouty, which makes it even more absurd, but she does that on purpose, knowing that the innocent girl facade is her secret weapon to getting what she wants. You roll your eyes and set the warm mug down, as you know if this keeps up you’re not going to finish it. 

“But you get that every day. Sometimes more than once. It has to be something you don't get often," Yujin says. Wonyoung shoots a glare in her direction and looks offended that Yujin could ever suggest otherwise, as if she’s forgotten how regularly she’ll whine to get whatever she wants. 

“I didn’t get it yesterday. Daddy came inside Yujinnie. Twice. And I only got a taste. So that doesn't count. I need another big, creamy load for Christmas. An extra thick one.” 

Wonyoung makes this the most ludicrous request, as if she's asking for the last slice of cake. 

The thing is, Wonyoung is as insatiable as Yujin. There have been countless occasions where you've unloaded deep inside one of these two beauties and before you're even halfway recovered, the other starts tugging your dick back to hardness so she can have her turn. You know what they’re capable of, and that’s precisely the issue—

“Don’t be greedy on Christmas, princess,” Yujin warns, and the look on her face makes you shiver, even if you aren't even on the receiving end of that look. "Daddy can stuff your stocking later."

Wonyoung ignores it, of course, because she’s doing this bratty routine she’s done a thousand times, trying to get her way. There’s surprising restraint from Yujin, who’s always so eager to add fuel to the fire, as if it gets her off just to have Wonyoung push boundaries, because they both know they have you wrapped around their pretty little finger.

"But I've been so good. Haven't I, daddy? I sucked your dick this morning while you were still sleeping, until you came in my mouth... and when Yujin was riding you earlier in the kitchen, I waited so patiently until she was finished. And then I cleaned her all up when you came inside of her, daddy…” 

"Oh my god. Shut up," Yujin groans and leans in for a kiss to stop the whining. You look at the time—midnight has come and gone, and these two are already just going at it, swapping saliva right over your lap, and it’s better than anything that’ll fit under that tree. 

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” Yujin says and leans in to exchange kisses with you, parting her lips for this deep embrace that you get lost in far too easily. You’re too breathless to respond, because Yujin’s kisses always leave your head spinning in the best possible way. 

“Merry Christmas,” you say in return, as she gives one more lingering kiss, and you both know Wonyoung is right there waiting her turn, getting all whiny for attention. “Merry Christmas, princess.” 

You kiss Wonyoung, and it’s like you can taste Yujin on her lips, which makes it seem as if you’re kissing them both at the same time. Not that you have complaints about being caught in the middle of these two making out, because when you’re not swapping between their lips, you’re getting the best possible view. 

“So…presents?” Wonyoung asks, which makes Yujin giggle at how shameless she is, as she goes back to sealing those lips shut with another kiss. And you know that whatever happens in this room is going to end how it always does, with them both sharing you— 

And that is their ultimate Christmas gift.

---------

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Happy Monday!

Wanted to put out a little thing to end the year on, a little epilogue to the annyeongz series, something that wasn't a billion words long and didn't have a reliance of smut.

This year was a bit difficult, but I'm so thankful for everyone who continues to read, comment, send asks (even though im bad at answering), or just lurks on this mess of a blog 💞

#IVE #Wonyoung #Yujin #reader insert #christmas #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #annyeongz

[halcyonstorm]

Levi notices she looks lighter and happier and is glad shes getting used to the commander post but also notices shes getting distant and blames it on commander duties. He thinks do i miss her? Nah maybe its just habit. Buuut theeen. He then finds out about it one day during an after training drinking session with 104th at the same bar and his breath hitches in his throat. Hange all pretty in a dress very drunk laughing at something this guy said and the world stops around him. He doesnt understand what it makes him feel. He feels like shit. Terrible. He hates it. He wants to smack the guy's face but doenst understand why. 104th notices his sudden unease and follows the direction he's staring and see hange with a guy. Sasha and Armin sigh dreamily happy that hange found someone she likes and that 'this is the happiest ive ever seen her" Levi dies at that. What does that mean? He wasnt enough? What does this guy give her that he doesnt? Wait. Why does it matter why am I even comparing. She cares about me too. But not like that. He thinks. It gets confusing and he leaves in a rush leaving everyone else stunned. Except connie who laughs at how hange made him jealous. The rest is just levi childishly following hange around mocking her happiness and the guy, finding out WHY she likes him. But gets nothing the guys actually nice and cares about hange. He hates himself and accepts her happiness but falls for her even harder since now he knows what shes like when shes in love and he wants it to be him. He accepts that hes fallen for her with the help of a very drunk man next to him at the same bar to whom he spills his secret to. The story continues and pls can someone write this already before i kill myself daydreaming about it

hi anon! sorry it took me a while but I finally got around to writing this. thank you for suggesting the prompt! i hope you enjoy. you can read it below OR check it out here on Ao3.

Title: Get Your Shit Together, Levi!

WARNING: ANGST

note: this is gifted to @tundrainafrica. i hope this satisfies your angst cravings. i hope you enjoy as well <3

Levi and some members from the 104 went out to a bar one night. It was a warm, summer evening and the sun had just begun to set. They all had a long day training out in the field, and Connie somehow convinced Levi to go out with them. Perhaps it was because Connie batted his puppy-dog eyes at Levi in such a way where if Levi didn’t, he thought Connie would break down and cry. Besides, Levi had asked Hange and she declined stating she had other plans. The bar was hustling and bustling that evening. They sat in a booth: Levi, Sasha, Connie, and Armin. They all ordered food, Sasha ordering herself more food than she looks like she can eat. The kids talked amongst themselves. After all, who was going to talk to Levi? He was their superior, almost like their parent who disappeared for years before showing up unexpectedly, expecting the kids to take him back. Armin made some small talk with Levi, but no one knew much about Levi. They knew two things for sure: he loved to clean and he loved tea. He usually hated alcohol, but somehow managed to down an entire beer glass before receiving the food. He was exhausted from the day, as was everyone else.

Suddenly, a loud laugh caught his attention. It wasn’t just any laugh, but a familiar one. A laugh that sent shivers down his spine and his heart to throb hard in his chest. It was Hange Zoe’s laugh. Had he known she were going, he would’ve invited her to avoid the awkward socialization with his subordinates. He looked to where the sound was coming from and was shocked. Other plans, huh? She was sitting next to a dark skinned man with a buzzcut and a beer glass in one hand. He was laughing too. She was laughing at something he said. The sight of her took his breath away. She never wore a dress like that before, but tonight she wore an emerald green dress that went a bit past her knees, exposing her muscular calves. The neckline of the dress cut low, exposing her collarbones. Her hair was in a ponytail but was neater than usual. Was she on a date? The realization caused Levi to feel as if his heart was being squeezed by a fist that was wringing out all the blood from it. Squeezing it so tight Levi thought he was going to die for a brief moment. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to make sure he could believe what he saw. He could. There she was: Hange in her beautiful emerald dress, talking and laughing with the dark-skinned man. They were sitting across from one another at a table-for-two. Their faces were close to one another as they spoke and laughed, drinking glasses and glasses of wine. Why do I feel this way? He asked himself. But he knew why. This feeling was familiar. It happened a few times before, specifically with Hange. It happened when she gave Moblit all her attention, gushing over how competent he was as her assistant, and now. Seeing her face to face on a date with this man who was much more attractive than himself: honey brown eyes; aquiline nose; plump lips; big, strong hands; a deep voice; and most importantly, he was much taller than Levi. He saw her date place a hand on hers, making Levi’s rage fester even stronger. I’m gonna slap that man, he thought. Why was he touching her? And why does she not mind it?

Levi had been staring for a long time, longer than he thought, before Connie nudged him from across the table. He was clearly drunk.

“Leeeeeeeeeevi,” he slurred with a cheshire cat-like grin. “Gawking, are we?” Levi rolled his eyes, taking his beer glass from him.

“You’ve gotta stop drinking,” he ordered, finishing whatever was left of Connie’s beer.

“Are you looking at Hange?” Armin asked, turning his head left to look at Levi. Armin could tell right away that was what Levi was doing. He shook his head no.

“She looks soooooo happy!” Sasha chimed in, dreamily gazing at the couple. Levi felt his face contort into a wretched grimace.

“She does. I haven’t seen her look so happy in a while,” Armin added. He quickly regretted it though when Levi threw him a harsh glare. Armin looked through his glare after a moment. Levi had a look in his eyes that Armin never saw before: hurt. Levi was hurt. His eyebrows were knit together, expressing a look that one may give when they’re about to cry.

I am not enough for her.

Armin felt his heart strings tugged, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on Levi’s bicep. He knew how much he loved her, despite his harsh tone. Hange was the only one who truly understood Levi and his words. Armin was able to observe Levi with Hange one night.

It was a cool March evening and Hange was working hard that day. She had been cooped up in her office sorting through and reading stacks and stacks of papers. She never came out for a meal that entire day. He saw Levi knock on her door with a plate of food in one hand and a blanket folded over his arm. She didn’t respond, so Levi allowed himself in. The door was shut behind him, but Armin could hear him softly talking to her before leaving the office. She must’ve fallen asleep so Levi draped the blanket over her shoulders. He must’ve left the food on her desk. That was the moment Armin realized Levi loved Hange. He didn’t just love her. He adored her. Ever since that moment, Armin was able to decipher Levi’s words from his true feelings.

“Oooooooooooooh, is someone jealous?” Connie teased. Sasha slapped his arm. Levi felt like if he stayed any longer, he’d explode and say something he’d regret.

“Shut the fuck up,” Levi sneered, standing up to leave. He felt as if he should torture himself more and watch the happy couple, but he didn’t have the willpower to do so. He drank a bit too much than he would’ve liked, and the heat inside the bar was getting to a boiling point, and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t need to hear it from the 104 that he lost his chance with Hange. They called out for him, but he didn’t hear. The air outside was much cooler compared to the sweltering temperature of hundreds of bodies tightly packed in the small bar. He found a trash can nearby, barely making it before vomiting. The stomach acid and alcohol came spewing out of him. He smelt it in his nose each time he breathed. He spit into the trash can when he was done, starting to slowly walk back to the cabins.

-

A few days later, Levi goes back to that bar alone after another hard day training. He felt like the sun was draining him of his energy each time he dared to stay outside. He sat on a bar stool and ordered a beer. There was a man next to him of whom he didn’t recognize. He was a stocky older man who had short black hair and brown eyes. The man looked drunk, the type of drunk where you can remember half the shit that was going on. The man saw Levi’s face and did not recognize him which gave Levi an impulsive idea.

“Are you from out of town?” Levi asked the man. He gave Levi a small smile.

“Yes.”

Say no more, Levi thought. Suddenly, a few drinks in, he opened up the key on his heart and started spilling his emotions to this guy. A few tears came through. Levi was buzzed at this point, his words too jittery and his hands too shaky. The man to whom he spoke listened intently. Somehow, this man he met at the bar had this pleasant aura that Levi felt he could tell him anything.

“Sir,” The man said. ���Why don’t you just talk to her? Talk to her like you’re talking to me. That is the only way you’ll find out her true intentions with her date.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“But it is. You know how much more peace there’d be in the world if people just talked things out?”

The man’s unrealistic statement somehow gave Levi some confidence. That confidence, however, quickly went out the window when he caught a glance of a messy brown mop of hair. It was Hange with that dark-skinned man again. She wore a black dress this time with a high collar, her arms exposed. God, she looked beautiful. Levi wished she could dress up for him like that. In that moment, hearing her beautiful laugh and seeing her beautiful smile, Levi realized he was in love with her.

“Ah… is that her?” The man asked, looking over his shoulder inconspicuously (unlike Levi who starred with no shame).

“Yes…”

“Find time to talk to her,” The man said. “You got this, man.” Before Levi went to say something to the man again, he was gone. He tried to watch her as she talked with the man. She was radiant. She had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place. Was it… No. It couldn’t be. Her eyes were glowing, she was shining. Was she falling for this man?

He felt like he was gonna be sick again. He abruptly got up from his seat and headed to the bathroom. He pushed the stall door open, vomiting once again. His throat was still sore from the last time, so this time the acid ripped at his throat even more. Hot tears started to stream down his face. He wanted her so bad. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh and smile. He wanted to be the one she fell in love with, not him. His heart ached so bad it was attempting to jump out from his throat. What hurt the most is that the guy she was with was nice. Too fucking nice. He laughed at her jokes, didn’t complain when she rambled, made subtle touches that weren’t inappropriate, and he was tall. He placed a hand to his heart as if it’d help put it back together. He took a deep, quivering inhale before standing up, flushing the toilet, and going to the faucet. He splashed his face with some cold water. How can I expect her to like me if I can’t confess? He looked at himself in the mirror.

You look like shit, he told himself. He murmured a few words aloud: “I’m in love with you. I am in love with you. Hange, I love you. I love you, Hange. Please be with me.” He took in a deep breath, stronger than the last, before exiting. He bumped into a person when he left the stall but paid no mind to it. When he was about to leave, he noticed the man she was with was gone. Maybe he was the one he bumped into?

“Oi, Hange,” he said, walking to her table. She smiled softly when she saw him.

“Levi, what’re you doing here? I thought you hated liquor.”

“I can’t spend time at a bar?” he replied, leaning a hand on the table. Hange rolled her eyes playfully.

“You can do whatever you please,” She said, beginning to stand up.. “Now if you’ll-”

“Four-eyes,” he interrupted her. “You look…” She stared at him intently, waiting for his response. “Good.”

Her eyes lost their light. Did he upset her? Then Levi realized she wasn’t staring at him anymore, she was looking past his shoulder. At that moment, the dark-skinned man approached Hange from behind Levi. So I did bump into him earlier.

“Are you ready?” He asked her. His voice was deep and seductive. Levi wondered if they fucked yet.

“Just a moment,” Hange replied. “Thank you, Levi. Was that all you had to say?” He felt like an idiot. An absolute idiot.

“N...Yes,” he said, losing all the confidence he had built up. How could he compete with this man? Levi just wretched in the bathroom and looked as pale as a ghost. Hange placed her hand on his shoulder gently, which made Levi’s heart skip a beat.

“Have a good night, Levi. Get your rest.” She started walking past him with her date towards the exit.

“No…” he murmured, inaudible to Hange. Or so he thought. She froze in her spot as she heard him change his answer.

“Onyankapon, could you wait outside for me? Give us a moment,” She whispered to her date. He nodded, exiting the bar. Hange turned around to face Levi. They were standing within a comfortable distance from each other.

“Levi, what else did you have to say? It’s getting late, you know.”

“I miss you,” he admitted. Hange’s eyes widened at his direct statement, knowing he usually states the opposite. “I miss hanging out with you and being with you all the time. You’re with him now and that’s okay but I just wanted to tell you that I can be better for you. I can take you on dates that are more exciting than a bar. You said you always wanted to swim, we can do that… We can do whatever you want us to do. All I care about is being with you.”

Hange’s face flushed red. He never talked like this with her before. She could tell he was a bit desperate but that didn’t make him any less genuine. Her heart ached. She was not sure how to feel. She did love him, but that was a while ago. A little part of her would always love Levi, but she was falling for Onyankapon now.

“I’m so sorry, Levi,” she said, barely audible. “I’m sorry. I did feel that way for you a long time ago, but I don’t anymore. I wish you had told me sooner.”

#do NOT come for me #ANGST #DID I MENTION ANGST #levihan #this has angst if i didn't mention it already #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #levihan angst #levihan brainrot #asks #ask

[curious-menace]

Batman has put on a bit of quarantine weight (he could lose it but he's like fuck it I'm cool with having a muffin top) and his villains take notice how would they all react to slightly softer looking batman bonus if one of villains is like supportive like you look adorable all chubby bats..like a cuddly bat plush.

dad bod batman. 

that is all. 

jk here are some headcanons

Penguin 

well he’s a lil chubby himself so i doubt he’s going to be in a position to throw any stones in this particular glass house. You could argue that batman looks the same since some men look really fat when its actually muscle. think rugby players, professional weight lifters (not body builders thats all for show) and maybe professional boxers? look at albert king in arkham knight. he’s chubby but he’s a brick wall! either way i dont think penguin will be treating him any different. batman can still punch his lights out and now with a bit of extra weight? he’s going to hit like a runaway train. 

TwoFace

Again, he doesnt spend much time looking at batmans ass while he’s running away from him. he might make some jokes about how batman weights if he landed on him for a take down, maybe joke like catwoman about needing a few more notches in his utility belt. To be honest, this whole quarantine isolation thing has him a bit down in the dumps. he’s probably just happy to see another human being, even if it is batman.  

Ivy

Shes teasing but not mean, like selina. shes loving quarantine life. nobody bothers her and she’s free to be with her plants all day long. she’s basically just chilling in the botanic gardens, since its closed due to not being an essential service. when batman shows up to check on her, she notices something is different but doesnt pin point it right away. but when he jumps down from the rafters and makes her glass herb gardens rattle she burst out laughing. again, shes not being mean, she just genuinely finds this hilarious that even the great batman has put on a few pounds in lock down. yes, she is loving the new look, softer around the edges and better for sitting on if he was under mind control

Scarecrow

i mean this in the nicest way possible but scarecrow literally does not give one tiny fuck. he’s gotten so much work done in lockdown without people bothering him, he’s soo deep in his research that he doesn't even notice batman approach. he does freak the fuck out , flinging vials of his new toxin 10 feet in the air in fright when he turns around and batman is standing there. the vials land far enough away that they aren't in any danger. still Stawman is pissed that batman just had to show up right then and scare the piss out of him. but he hasn't seen another human in like 3 months and since his research is ruined, he asks batman to stay for a few minutes. there's nothing technically illegal afoot in his lab right now, so why not see how crane is holding up? he sits in one of scarecrow old chairs that groans like a dying animal under his weight. scarecrow might raise an eyebrow but he’s not going to stay anything, not right now anyway. 

Riddler

oh thank GOD ! another human being! riddler is glad, actually fuckin glad to see batman. he’s been so BORED since lockdown started he actually contemplated kidnapping some people just so he’d have company. i made a joke once that you cant gag any riddler because they’ll just store it up and ramble more later. this is exactly what happens with batman when riddler spots him , he’s speaking so fast the flash would have trouble understanding him “Come in batman, sit down make yourself comfortable, not in that chair that’s a deathtrap ive been working on. have you put on a little weight? nevermind im sure you can work it off in my newest puzzle its very- wait where are you going?!” speaking of bat plushies , riddler absolutely has a batman plush on his desk that he likes to ramble at. when the real bats leaves he makes a mental note to put some more stuffing into plushie batman.

Harley

Harley hugs batman. i guess its ok, she might as well be part of his bubble for all the time they spend together. she notices right away hes put on a few but shes not one  to complain. makes him soft, its a nice change from jokers bones and refusal to give her even a head pat. Batman is a softie at heart, he cant bring himself to push her away. she’s mostly compliments about him looking soft and chubby and invites to stay with her or wont he please please please take her to the batcave shes so bored and she misses the robins, god help her she even misses the other rogues. she also misses going outside but technically a cave isnt outside so shes not breaking any rules and surely there must be enough room to be socially distant in a place that size.  batman disappears for a few hours, seemingly ignoring her request . he returns with plushies of all the rogues and batfam, and a special bat patterned facemask just for her. this earns him another not so socially distant hug with harley possibly not quite copping a feel of his new love handles and plump butt. 

this was very silly but an enjoyable write, thank you for the prompt nonnie! i must admit, im more like scarecrow than harley. i like being inside, but i worry im getting to use to it and if things return to normal (relatively speaking) i wont want to go back out again. 

i suppose that's a problem for future shep right?

got something you wanna talk about? send me an ask or a dm!💜💙💛🧡💚❤️

#asks #rogues headcanons #gotham rogues #penguin #oswald cobblepot #Two Face #harvey dent #scarecrow #jonathan crane #edward nygma #edward nigma #riddler #the riddler #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #my stuff #my writing #headcanons #my headcanons #corona virus

[kweebtrash]

Kinktober #3: Face Sitting (M)

Pairing: Hongseok x 2nd Person Reader

Summary:  Some kinda realer scenarios where not everyone can cum easily or have those magic orgasms but face sitting/riding may do the trick. Also Honk is excited for his victory

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I know kinktober is supposed to be S p i c y TM but idk, sometimes i just want some sugar, spice, and everything nice.

Kinktober Prompts by @immabiteyou​

You always had a problem with cumming. You had no idea what it was but nothing, no matter how hard you tried, took you over that edge. There may have been some small tremors here and there and you definitely werent asking for an over the top bone rattling orgasm at this point. Just ANYTHING would be fine. It always weighed on the back of your mind, especially knowing that Hongseok tried his absolute fucking damndest to make sure you felt good.

And you did. The way his strong hands roamed over your body, spreading fire throughout your skin, always made shivers zip throughout. His kisses were full of healing magic; those soft, sweet plump lips could cure any bad day but also ignite the dirtiest of feelings to where you ended up clawing at each other. His body-well that was a given- the boy woke up and looked at his abs first thing in the morning, every morning. He was obsessed with being fit (sometimes too obsessed) and there was a prying thought of self consciousness that popped into your head every once in awhile. Comparing the way you looked on his arm to his being in general sometimes made you feel like you werent good enough for him. But that surely couldnt have be part of the problem.

Because here he was, once again devoted to your body and full of determination. He knew you enjoyed fucking, the act of being close to him in of itself was always special and exciting. It was just your stupid body that wouldnt react. It was like your brain was screaming in pleasure but your body was just like ‘meh, gonna take the one thing you desire the most and just not do it’.

Maybe there were a few traumatic things that had to be worked through, sure, but Hongsi was the only man you had every fully trusted to never let you down. He knew almost immediately the first few times you had faked it, and it offended him, but you explained the annoyance at yourself-which was a bit hard to say the least.

“I loved it. I felt great, seriously i did. The only part that was faked was…"the end.”

And why? Because you were used to it. Because it was ingrained in you to do it; always making the man feel like he had done an amazing job-except this time Hongseok actually had. From the first time to the most recent. He never failed but you did.

He wanted honesty from that point on. He wanted to work on things, try everything under the sun; from restraints, to wax, to toys, and positions that were sometimes almost impossible. But it remained a puzzle the two of you couldnt solve. Tonight didnt seem to be any different save for the fact that you had taken up residence on his face like it was a goddamn throne. His tongue was diving so deep inside you, filling you with a nice warm, wet, thickness that made the pit of your stomach clench. He had eaten you out before, that was one of the first things he tried in an attempt to make you cum, but it had never occurred to either of you to actually try face sitting. Why? Who knows. Sometimes the simplest of things slip the mind and perhaps the whole time the two of you had been overthinking it.

But with all the gadgets and gizmos and positions that made you feel like you were in a yoga class thrown out the window, you found your nails digging into the wall that you had been supporting yourself on. The scratching forced chips of paint to crumble from the wall though it was nothing compared to how fast the headboard was thumping against it. Your thighs were burning but you continued rolling your hips like it was your job. Hongseok spurred you on as he seemed to enjoy this just as much as you were. Perhaps he was enjoying it much more.

He was growling, sometimes snarling, as he paired flickers of his tongue with hot open mouth kisses to your heat and nibbles to any sensitive area he could reach, especially the junction of your inner thighs. While your fingers dug into the wall, his dug into your hips, your ass, your back, marring you with the blunt indentations of his short nails and leaving streaks of red in their wake. You were sure he had barely come up for air and the one second you pulled away to make sure he was okay he forced you right back down to his lips with his nose brushing against the bundle of nerves that had awakened with desire. You were feeling all of your lower muscles tighten to the point where your legs almost felt numb but it was all worth it.

Hongseok slid his tongue through your folds once more, the tip of it teasing your hole that you though he had finally given a break to. The slow and lazy drags, however, were making you shudder just as much as the fast ones and covered your frame with everlasting tingles. Your free hand gripped onto his sweat soaked hair as you tried to level yourself. Holy shit, was this really it? Was this really the time were it would happen? Oh god, you werent ready. Well you were- in the sense that you had been waiting for this for YEARS with him-but also you werent exactly sure what it would feel like. Would this be one of those tiny ones that just felt like a relaxing exhale or one of those wild porn ones that were so ridiculous? Were you really going to scream in ecstasy and feel like you were going insane? Hell yes you were.

“H-Hong,” you choked out as he suctioned his lips around your clit while his thumbs spread your lower lips wide apart. “I think it-it’s happening.”

His eyes flung open, wide and flickering with undertones of amber within the dim beside lamp’s light. “Whats happening?” The words came out in muffled jumbles as he refused to pull away.

“You know…it. The…the thing.”

He finally pulled away as bewilderment spread across his face. “You mean like you feel like youre gonna cum?”

“I-i think so? I mean…im assuming that’s why everything feels so tense, like im gonna explode. That’s what happens right?”

“I think its different for everyone. I get tense too, but then i feel all warm and get kinda snuggly and hold onto you tighter.” He did and it was the cutest fucking thing ever.

“Well im hoping this is it.” You sighed.

“Dont start thinking about it now or you’ll lose focus. Just concentrate on me, babe. Just like before, yeah? Can you ride my face some more?”

“You really like this dont you?” You peered down at him and giggled.

“Baby, you were literally born to sit on my face, i swear it. It sounds stupid and fuckboy-ish, I know, but Ive never wanted this so bad until i felt you grind against my lips.”

Red flushed your cheeks and you looked away in an effort to hide your sudden shyness. Hongsi just chucked and placed the gentlest of kisses to your clit. “On me. Focus.” He reminded you again and you exhaled deeply, letting your mind go as much as it had before. Through the painful numbness in your bent legs that surrounded his head, you pushed on, wiggling your hips in a teasing way that earned a small smack to your ass. The sting made you jump but feel ever so much naughtier. It kick started your chaotic grinds again which welcomed the harsh thrusts and lewd slurping. It was almost embarrassing to hear how wet your were from both your cum and his tongue but in a weird way it gave you a sense of pride and reassurance that this felt amazing.

More pressure built up within your system and you found yourself short of breath now. You swallowed hard and tried to recoup but it was all for naught as your heart thundered so loud you could hear it in your ears. You had managed to make the headboard slam harder against the wall, the top of the filigreed wood leaving its own mark in the paint much like your nails had. Your thighs tightened and you could feel him smile into your skin. He fucking loved the way you seemed so close to crushing his skull if you actually could. The yanking of his hair to shove him closer, as if it were possible at this point, also had him lifting his head as your hips dipped and the very tip of his tongue hit something inside you just as it curled.

And then you let go. Almost so fast from everything that Hongseok had to press his hands into your lower back to prevent you from tossing yourself back completely. You were shaking, your knees digging into the pillow beneath his head. Your hands that had found safety in the wall and his hair now flailed and searched for something to hold onto but it was like they couldnt. You had lost all control. Your brain was fuzzy. Your body was fuzzy. But best of all you felt wave after wave of clench and release with your first full orgasm.

He finally let you go and you collapsed to the wayside instantly curling against his side. He pulled you into his arms and speckled your head with kisses as he squeezed you tight. He was patient and waited for you to come down though he was absolutely beaming with pride. “That was…not how i imagined it would feel like but holy shit.” You managed to finally say.

“Fuck yeah!!” He said victoriously and he raised his hand for a high five. You couldnt help but laugh at his dorkiness and return the gesture. The excitement and happiness between you two was unfathomable. You didnt want to say that this was the best night with him just because you finally came. There had been plenty of other times where he made you feel so perfect and precious and completely in love with him that you almost cherished that more. But tonight was definitely like top five material.

“Im happy i could finally do this for you…” He returned to seriousness and you sighed as you began to wipe away traces of your cum from his face.

“Im sorry if you felt like i put pressure on you. I never meant-”

“Nah, it wasnt you. It was me. You know how i can sometimes be a perfectionist and i know its not like the end all be all of our relationship but…i dont know. I always felt like you deserved to feel good and happy. Like you just deserved…everything.” He shrugged and pretended to take more interest in plucking away a stray hair from your shoulder.

The guilt you had accumulated over the years suddenly lessened and you realized that it wasnt just about making you feel good sexually. It was actually, as cliche as it sounded, about bringing you two closer together in devotion and fulfilling a fantasy. The warmth in your body returned but for a different and cheesy romance movie kinda reason and you snuggled closer to his chiseled chest.

“Thank you…” You whispered. “For not being annoyed or giving up on me and helping me work through whatever was holding me back.”

“It’s what im here for, right? I think i’d be a shitty boyfriend if i wasnt.”

“Well you got that right.” You tilted your head up and kissed him gently, tasting the aftermath on his lips. “You better go wash your face before it gets all sticky.”

“That can wait. Besides i was kinda wondering if….” The both of you looked down at his cock, knocking your heads in the process. It never failed for the two of you to have an idiotic moment but he definitely needed to be rewarded after this.

#hongseok #yang hongseok #hongseok smut #pentagon smut #ptg smut #kinktomato #pentagon drabble #yang hongseok smut #hongseok fluff #pentagon fluff #ptg fluff #universe #idk what else to tag this as tbh

[y00ngz]

The Last Time

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You claimed to be in a happy relationship. You also love your boyfriend. Well, that’s what you think. Or that part where Min Yoongi tells you to leave your boyfriend because you’re hurting.

Words: prob 1k something.

Warnings: CHEATING :(, INFEDILITY :(, pretty sure it’s ANGTSY, sneaking around, possessiveness, slight manipulation, kissing, biting, choking, petting, fingering?public sex, unprotected sex, petting, lots of dirty talk, overly usage of Princess and baby (I’m a sucker for pet names), creampie, Yoongi just wants you to be happy ok :/

(A/N: pls ive been so wrecked by Yoongi and this au in my head has been living rent free and I thought I’d share. Again, I am not a writer I just like to share whatever crazy thoughts I have in my head. But I hope you guys enjoy 😭)

It’s the smug look on his face. Or the way he carries himself, or the way his face is contorting right now, as if he knows exactly how he affects you. Darkness surrounds you both in the chilly alley. The streetlight in the corner, illuminating his soft porcelain skin. His Mouth curving upwards displaying his gummy smile.

“Can’t help yourself, Princess?” He smirks, hand lifting to caress the back of his knuckles to your face. You shook him off, face moving to deflect his touch. “You wont stop blowing up my phone. You said you’ll leave me alone if I came. He’s already suspecting. What do you want?” You asked annoyedly in response. You look around the alley, double checking the exit door of the back of the club.

He steps forward, body pressed against yours. Your back hitting the cool brick wall as you try to avoid his advances. Your body, trapped between Yoongi and the wall.

“You already know the answer, Princess.” He whispers in your ear. His hot breath tickling the area between your ear and neck. He moves to the other side of your face, “Tell me,” he says, this time planting a wet kiss on your neck, “Tell me you’ve been thinking about it.” He slides his hands to your sides, gripping your waist, pulling you against him. Closer. “I get so fucking hard, thinking about it.” And you feel it. His hardness. When he pulls you closer against him. Your dress riding up as he grinds your body against his crotch.

Unable to control yourself anymore, you grabbed onto his shirt. Your small hands fisting the fabric like it’s your only leverage. You mewl when you felt the bulge in his pants, eyes rolling back as you remember the feeling, the pleasure, when Yoongi pounded your pussy two nights ago while your boyfriend was away for work. You bit your lip, reliving his touches, his mouth on your burning flesh. His hot breath with every pump of his cock.

“I bet you’re soaked. if I touch you right now, you’ll be dripping.” He smirks. You shook your head, but even yourself is unconvinced, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “I’m not- I’m - fuck”, you weren’t able to finish your words. Yoongi moved his hand to fully palm your mound. Pussy clenching onto nothing, riding his palm for some friction. Anything. He laughs at your eagerness before sliding your panties to the side to feel you closer. Yoongi hissed at the wetness he instantly touches. Your panties a soaking mess. His fingers, expertly petting your pussy. He knows exactly where to touch you, how you want it, what makes you fucking lose it.

He’s got his thumb on your clit, rubbing it softly before entering his middle finger in your warm, wet cunt while he speaks, “Baby what got you so wound up? Does he not make you cum when he fucks you, hmm? Can’t cum when its with him?” You gasped at his sudden intrusion, whining, one finger and you’re a fucking mess. “You want me to fuck you? Want me to make you feel better? Just say it baby, I’ll give it you.” You look around the alley nervously. Your moans are getting louder, getting carried away while Yoongi fingers you in a dark empty corner.

Before you change your mind, you quickly reach for his breeches. Antsy fingers fumbling with the button of his pants and blindly unzipping it. Yoongi laughs again, entertained at the change of your demeanor. You were just about to dismiss him so quickly after wanting to meet you discreetly and now here you are, ready and willing to be fucked against this cold brick wall.

He helps you with his pants, lowering it enough to free his cock. You spit in your hand before wrapping it around his girth, wrists twisting as your hand slides up and down his cock. “Baby.. ha- I’m gonna fucking blow my load in your hand, slow down Princess, I got you.” You whine when he pulls your hand away, you’re so impatient when it comes to Yoongi.

Yoongi manages to fish out the foil packet out of his pants, ripping it open with his teeth. You took the condom from him and tossed it around somewhere, lost in the dark alley. He looks at you questioningly before you said, “No, I want to feel you. All of you. Please” you both know that you’re on birth control but since Yoongi, you two always used a condom. Yoongi sighs, unsure but so turned on. His cock clenches at the thought of fucking you bare, feeling your wet, tight pussy. He looks at you one last time as he lines his cock to your opening, one last nod of your head for approval and he slides in. So slowly. “Fuck, baby. So tight, so wet. Ha.. Pussy feels fucking good, baby”

Your eyes rolling back, head hitting the wall as your arch your back to feel all of him. Feel him closer. Your hands clutching on to Yoongi’s shirt for dear life. “Feels so good, Yoongi. Fuck, feels so good, please” you don’t even know what you’re begging him for. You just don’t want it to end, whatever this is with Yoongi, you don’t want it to end. He thrusts in you hard and deep, hitting all the right places, his pace quickening. He feels so fucking hard inside you and it’s amazing. The feeling is dizzying. The thrill of fucking in a public area where people can see you, catch you is scary but damn does it turn you on. Your skin is on fire.

Yoongi snakes his hand up your body, stopping at your neck. Fingers splayed around it as he wrapped them around your throat. Your pussy squeezes his cock at the tightening of your throat, Yoongi groans. He’s grunting at every intrusion in your wet hole, “You got so tight baby, you like my hand around your neck?” All you could do was nod. Pleading with your eyes. “Yeah baby? I can feel it. I’m gonna fucking give it to you. That’s what you want, yeah?" You moaned at the roughness of his thrusts, his hand tightening around your neck. Your sounds unable to escape from lack of air. Yoongi pounds you over and over again against the wall, your body bouncing up and down with his every thrust.

Tension begins to coil in your stomach, your climax building up, preparing to explode. His hand around your throat tightens at each thrust and you swear to god you’re seeing stars. You’re staring at Yoongi’s eyes, hazy and fucked out, and all you can see are stars. He leans forward and kisses you, unable to catch your breath. His Lips ghosting to your neck, teeth biting your earlobe. “Fucking hell, baby... You’re squeezing me so tight. You want to cum, Princess?” He murmurs against your neck. “Fuck, this pussy is fucking heaven. So good for me baby.” His hand travels down between your legs, thumb pressing back on your clit. Your eyes squinting at the overwhelming pleasure, your fisted hand on his shirt pulling him closer to you as possible. You look at Yoongi with pleading eyes. You open your mouth but no sounds come out. Yoongi crashes his lips against yours, tongue against tongue, licking your plump lips. Your Pussy shamelessly clenching on his cock. You’re s close and he feels it.

“Yeah baby, that’s right. That’s fucking right. I fuck you so good, you keep coming back.” Yoongi is drunk from pleasure, though you taste the alcohol from his lips too. But you’ve never seen him this possessive. He gets delirious from so much pleasure, words coming out unabashedly, “Doesn’t matter if he fucks you. I make you cum. I make this pussy fucking dripping. This pussy only cums for me. Isn’t that right Princess?” Your hand reaches for his hand around your throat, your moans and whimpers desperately trying to escape, but Yoongi continues to fuck you. You feel the damn bursting, heat pooling on your lower back. “Fuck yes, baby. Cum for me. All over my cock, Princess. Let me feel it-oh fuck.” His hand frees your neck and as your orgasm take over, you take a huge deep breath and you let go. Everything is so overwhelming and you feel so much pleasure. From your orgasm and from the oxygen that you’ve been deprived. Your screams and moans are music to Yoongi’s ears and he lets you ride it all out as he fucks you so deep. Your walls squeezing his cock so tight, “I’m gonna cum inside you,” he says out of breath. “And you’re going to take it. Gonna fill you up so full of my cum, you’ll be leaking all night. And you’re gonna think of me.” His pace is quickening, hands back on your hips as he pounds in you. “When you’re in bed with him, tonight. You’ll think of me when my cum leaks out of you. Fuck you’re dirty.” You feel the overstimulation and it’s too much. “Yoongi, please - cum inside me. I want it.” And you do. That’s why you didn’t want him to use a condom. Yoongi groans and buried his cock deeper in your warm hole. His hips jerking, before flooding his white seeds inside you, painting your walls white. Stuffing you full.

His body slumps against you, you’re scared to let go of him. Unsure if you can stand on your own feet. Your legs feel shaky and you’re still out of breath. Yoongi has his head on your shoulder. He kisses it before straightening up, cock sliding out of you and you both sighed. Some of his semen are already leaking out. You both get yourself situated, making yourselves look presentable. Every move you make, you feel Yoongi’s cum edging to come out. You feel embarrassed, you did something unforgivable yet again. But with Yoongi, you will sin over and over again. This isn’t right. Yoongi speaks first.

“Hey... are you good?” Even he sounds unsure. “I’m good.” You reply. Trying to sound as sure and okay as possible. Yoongi has his hands in his pockets, looking everywhere but at you. He wants to say something but he isn’t sure if it’s the right time. “I’m heading back, don’t follow-“ you were just about to walk away but Yoongi stops you.

“Leave him.” You look at him, truly look at him and he looks lost. Sad. “Yoongi, this isn’t right. This shouldn’t have even happened.” You tried to explain. “Y/n.... you’re not even happy anymore. You show up to my doorstep crying and I’m always there to pick up the pieces.” Yoongi clenches his jaw, like he knows that you know. He shouldn’t have to explain why you should leave him. “I can’t, Yoongi. I love Jungkook...”

He laughs out of spite this time, “Baby, it’s not love if you’re crying because of him every night.” Hearing it from another person makes it sound so real. You’ve been denying it. The pain you feel in this relationship. You want to just run away from everything. You turned around, heading back inside the club.

With one last look at Yoongi, you said, “Don’t call me anymore.”

#bts smut #yoongi #jungkook #bts #suga #min yoongi #another day another wreckage by min yoongi #Yoongi smut #Yoongi au #Yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #suga smut #suga au #bts suga #jungkook smut #jungkook au #yoongi drabble #yoongi angst #my writing

[kota-bee]

moony

a/n: hey look a new series because i got overhwhelmed by in the dark. this will be a self indulgent story so its ok if you dont like it. im trying a new writing style so let me know if its any good. this isnt really edited so read at your own risk. shout out to anyone who can figure out which part of this chapter i inserted after it was done.

chapter 1/? word count: 1628

warnings: none i think. a weeny bit of blood.

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towering trees and bright flowers are all i can see for miles, it was the most beautiful thing ever. mother held my hand, swinging it as we walked along the dimly lit dirt path. "happy birthday my love! how does it feel to be 6 hm?" mothers words are soft and full of love as she looks down at me fondly. "not much differnt, i think im taller maybe?" i screw my face up trying to think if i felt taller or not, i *felt* taller. mother laughed heartly as she looked around us. "youre almost past my hip now! youve definitely gotten taller." mother cooed still looking happily at me. i smiled, i *am* almost past her hip now! i swung her hand even more as we contiuned on our walk. "dad doesnt like to go on these walks does he?" i questioned, looking up at mother. "he doesnt like to get his fancy shoes dirty, Alexander has always been that way" she reasured me softly. the bush in front of us rustled, mother excitedly pulled me down to crouch so we didnt scare the critter moving towards us. i wiggled excitedly, hoping it would be a bunny. "stay still. maybe its a deer" mother whispers into my ear. the rustling get louder before a dirty tired looking man stumbles out. mother pulled me up harshly and hid me behind her. i tried to peek out at the man but she shoved me behind her again. i suddenly remebered what day it was, the full moon. i clutched to mothers shirt as she put a hand on my shoulder.

"can i help you sir? you look ill" mothers voice is shakey but firm. "now that you ask... i do need help"

im on my back on the floor, its uncomfortable and bumpy. my hands are wet and warm, it feels gross and sticky.i raise my hands to my face, theyre red? i turn my head to see if mother knows whats happening and... the man is on top of her, his teeth digging into her neck. shes screaming, crying, "m-mom?"

"mom?" i whisper but im not in that forest anymore, im on my bed in my room. i look around my room, at the posters and drawings on my wall that i made myself, at my trunk and bag near my door. it takes me a second to register the knocking at my door. "andi we need to go" a sandy haired man says softly as he pushes through my door. its just remus, im safe. i push myself up to sit on the edge of my bed and run my hand through my messy curls. "are you alright sweetheart?" remus- dad, asks me softly. "nightmare" i mumbled sleepily. he sighs and sits down next to me. he rubs circles against my back. "its always worse after the full moon, give yourself some patient love" dad said softly, he knew i wouldnt actually give myself time to bounce back. it was frustrating to admit i needed time to heal, i didnt like admitting i was differnt. dad sighed and kissed my forehead gently "get dressed, you can eat at the weasleys, molly will have plenty of food for you"

i pull my t-shirt and worn jeans on and try desperatley to make my hair less of a mess. i dragged my trunk downstairs towards dad who was waiting patiently at the door. "ready? molly will have some ointments for you when you get there."

"i double checked this time" i chuckle, more than once ive forgotten something important, my school supplies werent exactly cheap so that wasnt exaclty ideal. dad chuckled and looped his arm through mine and, with a loud pop, we landed at the burrow. my second home! i live here as often as i do at dads house. it was the most brilliant house ive ever been too.

the door flew open and two lanky twins came flying towards me. fred and george collided with me, hugging me tightly. i giggled squeezing them tightly. Remus put his hand on my shoulder “I’ll see you at the train station, be safe” and with a pop he was gone.

“He never comes inside” a sweet voice came from the doorway. A plump woman was looking fondly at the three teens. She opened her arms wide, beckoning me forward. i smiled and wrapped my arms around molly. “Hello dear” she cooed into my hair. Molly pulled back and looked me over, cupping my face and turned it side to side, examining the new cuts and bruises i donned. She hummed

“Ginny! Ron! Come here!” Molly shouted as she pulled me inside, the twins following.

“She’s going to coddle you” Fred whispered into my ear with a little chuckle. i rolled my eyes as i followed molly into the kitchen where Ron and Ginny had just rushed in.

“Andi!” Ginny bounded towards me wrapping her arms around me and hugged me like it had been years since the last time she had seen me. Ginny had always looked up to me like an older sister ever since she could speak. i hoisted Ginny up and into my arms spinning her around. god i loved the weasleys, every one of them, including percy.

“I’m a little offended you didn’t do that for us” George huffed feigning hurt.

“Yeah come on andi, I thought we were your favourite” Fred added, mimicking his twin.

“Now when did I say that boys” i teased as i plopped Ginny back on the floor. The twins rolled their eyes before throwing their arms over my shoulders. the twins did this to me so often, we were always joined at the hip in some way.

“I dunno I just have a sneaking suspicion that you like us” the boys said in unison. i snickered and gave Ron a happy “hello”

“Now now boys don’t be too rough on her” molly scolded shooing the twins off of me. i sighed, Molly always had a tendency to treat me like i was fragile. “Oh come on mum it’s not like we’re throwing her around” Fred whined. “We could if you wanted” George whispered. The trio had learned early on that the best way to annoy the younger groups was to mock flirt with each other. After awhile it became an inside joke that the three found hilarious. Much to everyone’s dismay.

“Come on andi let me clean you up” Molly’s words are sweet but insistent. i know better than to argue with molly over this stuff. Molly is a excellent healer and it would be stupid to deny her help. i looked over at the twins who are grinning ear to ear, they did warn me i suppose. i rolled my eyes once more before following molly to the living room. i sit down on the sofa the twins and i often crowd. It was far too small for three lanky teens. Molly began rustling in a little bag near a bookshelf. She was humming a song and shaking to a tune only she could hear. Ah ha! Molly exclaimed as she pulled out a little jar full of white paste.

“This will help it heal a little faster, it won’t keep it from scarring unfortunately” molly starts excitedly before mumbling off the last part. i knew this, magic was wonderful but it couldn’t prevent scarring in most situations. i had more scars than i cared to count. Molly cupped my face as she smeared the paste over my wounds, i winced slightly. no matter if it had numbing ingriedents or not, this part always hurt

“I know it hurts, just breathe” molly humed. “Do you have anymore?” Molly questions looking me over. “You know the answer to that question” i chuckled dryly as i stood pulling my shirt up with me. Revealing a bandage stretching across my stomach.

Molly sighed, she hated seeing her kids hurt, not that Andi was her kid but it certainly felt like it. Molly peeled the bandage off slowly trying desperately to keep it from hurting too much.

i shuddered biting back tears as i felt the bandage pull healed skin with it.

The twins were watching from the doorway as molly tended to Andi. They knew what Andi looked like after full moons but they never got used to the gashes and bruises she dawned afterwards. Fred turned away, he felt sick to his stomach, he loved Andi, he wished he could take this from her. She didn’t deserve it.

Molly patched andi's stomach up once more and pulled her shirt down over it.

“Put this on your face twice a day and I’ll help you with your back until you go to school then then ask one of your friends to help” molly instructed waving her finger at me to enunciate her words.

“Yes ma’am” i mock soluted, i knew how much that annoyed her. i turned towards the door way and gave George a lopsided grin and peeked past him at Fred who was leaning against a counter.

“Want to show me what your letters talked about?” i said my tone dripping with mischief. The twins faces lit up as they grabbed my hands and dragged me up the stairs, giggling like kids the whole way to their room.

“What are you three planning??” Molly shouted up the stairs. She knew those three were troublemakers at heart. They had been since they met when they were 7. Remus needed help with Andi after a rough full moon and the rest is history. The three of them managed to turn rons teddy bear into a spider once.

#harry potter headcanon #harry potter fandom #harry potter stories #the weasly twins #the weasleys #harry potter #fan fiction #harry potter fanfiction #fypage

[eliesaidwhat]

red-handed

cross posted on ao3

!!trigger warning!! mentions of suicidal thoughts. this book contains death, murder, graphic descriptions of violence and other sensitive subjects. please read with caution.

1. thirteen suspects

Adrien walks through the clear doors, and she sits up straighter on the bed.

He makes a beeline for Marinette, immediately bending down to her height and wrapping her up in a tight hug. She’s sure she smells rather disgusting. The blood and dirt that once left not a single inch of her pale skin untouched was washed off as soon as she arrived at the hospital, but it’s been a few days since then and she’s sure her hair is starting to smell of sweat.

Still, if he’s bothered by it, he doesn’t show it and rests his cheek gently against the top of her head. She struggles to angle herself towards him, wrapping her arm that isn’t hooked up to the IV around him. The smell of him is familiar— like laundry detergent, expensive cologne and watermelon gum.

Her mind is foggy, and even though her wrist is still aching, it doesn’t reach her. All she can think about is the way her best friend uses way too much fabric softener, how maybe she can finally get some answers, and how she doesn’t have to be alone. God, she’s so tired of being alone.

Her parents were here, and she doesn’t know when they stepped out, but they didn’t tell her anything. The events that landed her in the hospital feel a bit cloudy, and though they’ve slowly started to sink in, she wishes someone would just tell her. All they would do is squeeze her hand while she pleaded for Kagami, for Adrien, for Alya, for anyone.

He drags a hand through her tresses. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Marinette,” He breathes. “I tried to get here as fast as I could. I’m sorry I took a few days.”

Without her phone to contact anyone, Marinette has been left to stir with her thoughts and questions. She assumed that perhaps Adrien and Kagami were occupied with their parents' expectations, trying to calm herself. Still, she stressed over the possibility that maybe something else had happened. It poked at the back of her brain. Now, seeing him in person, her relief is immeasurable.

She pushes her face into his chest. “I’m just happy you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

They stay like that. Adrien clings to her like he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he lets go for even a second. He strokes her hair with one hand and rubs circles into her back with the other. He squeezes her softly enough to not hurt her but tight enough to make her feel completely safe and cared for.

It’s nice to feel the warmth of a hug. She feels cold, right down to the bone. Like the chill is coming from within her, instead of as a response to her surroundings. She isn’t sick, the hospital is warm, and yet still, she’s cold.

After a few moments of silence, she withdraws from him. She meets his gaze.

“Adrien, where’s Kagami?”

For the first time, she really pays attention to the way Adrien looks. She was so absorbed in worrying about how dirty she must be that she didn’t even take him in. He doesn’t look any less handsome than usual, but he doesn’t… look well.

For the first time, she notices the redness breaking up the usual brilliant green light shining from his eyes. He looks horribly pale, not unlike a porcelain doll, but on Adrien it looks almost sickly. Dark streaks crease his under eyes, the tiredness evident. Despite the paleness, the area beneath his eyes and along his cheekbones is splotchy with redness.

Marinette sits up straighter. The ECG grows louder and faster. She sees the faint streaks of dried tear tracks tainting the flawless skin of his cheeks. His waterline still seems flooded with unshed tears, as if he’s holding back tears.

“Adrien… where’s Kagami?” Her throat burns with dehydration, but she still pushes out the question with force.

“I’m sorry, Marinette.” His voice breaks. The cold intensifies.

No, she thinks.

But the evidence sits in front of her, too loud to be ignored. She swallows hard, and it pains her. Her heart hardens like a rock, and the weight of it drags it all the way down to her feet. The strings that once tied her to Kagami now wrap around her chest and squeeze, suffocatingly tight.

Denial itches her skin, and for a moment the temptation to fall into it is too strong. It can’t be, she thinks. That maybe, just maybe, Adrien is wrong, or lying, or playing some sick joke. Or maybe, it’s not what she thinks at all, and she’s just jumping to conclusions.

However, eye contact with the blonde boy is enough. Because in the depth of his pale green irises lies the undeniable, horrific truth she had feared.

She knows.

Without warning, a small cry is drawn out from her throat. Her hand rises to her mouth. She bites down on her knuckle, trying to stifle the despair passing through her dried lips. She didn’t cry when she got brought into the hospital— she was hurt, but she didn’t cry.

The implication of his words is more painful than any physical injury she could endure. God, she would break every bone in her body to have him take back those words.

The hospital bed creaks with her trembles. She feels the wetness slide down her cheeks, then drip onto her hands and the thin sheets. She can taste the saltiness of her anguish. Marinette reaches forward and clutches Adrien’s shirt tightly, drawing him closer.

“No! No. That— that can’t—!” Wide eyes and a raw throat from the shouts. “We made it! I… we got here! Why didn’t they—why didn’t they save her?!”

Bile sits at the back of the throat but never comes out. She’s in complete hysterics, and her wails echo through the room. She clutches Adrien tighter, and he only fights down his own tears, winding his arms around her.

Anger spikes in her, and she momentarily draws back her hands only to slam her fists back into his chest. Her pleas don’t die, and she keeps begging until her throat goes raw. Her nails dig into his shirt. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away. He keeps his arms around her, and he takes it.

“Please! Tell me—!” A sob swelled in her throat. “Tell me you’re lying! Please!” She goes slack in his arms, and soon her wails start to soften down to light hiccups and short cries. “Please,” she almost whispers.

Adrien’s chest shakes with his own cries. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I...I wish I could.”

“They should have left me,” she sobs into his shirt. “They should have let me die there if they weren’t going to save Kagami. God, I wish they fucking let me die there.”

Adrien tightens his hold on her. She can tell it’s not what he wants to hear— and why would it be? He just had one of his closest friends die— but she means every word. She can’t bring herself to consider his feelings at the moment, or think about anything other than the fact the woman she loves more than anyone is gone.

And no one would fucking tell her.

Marinette is now fully slumped against Adrien, no longer able to support herself.

“I wish they would let me die.”

Marinette’s lips are pulled into a tight line.

She looks different than she did before, she notes as she admires herself in the mirror. She’s taller, for one. Her legs and arms have a definition they didn’t have before, and the lines on her abdomen are more defined than ever. Five years is a long time, and she worked hard to make sure that no one ever pulled a fast one on her ever again. She wouldn’t let her guard down.

She has the same small curved nose, the same hooded blue eyes, and the same plump pink lips. However, the newfound definition in her cheekbones and jaw did wonders for her face. She feels like she’s staring at a totally different person in the mirror. Her hair, once shoulder-length, now sways at her waist. Long bangs tickle her cheeks. She touches her ends. Maybe it’s time for a cut.

Kagami’s death was destructive. God, how that broke her. She holed herself up in her room for weeks. Adrien had to slide food under her door frame. When she finally did open up her room door, it was to pack her bags and leave Paris. She booked the first flight as far as she could go and never looked back.

Everywhere she turned, she could see her. The melody of her laugh when she walked through Trocadero Gardens, the faint feeling of her hair tickling the slope of Marinette’s neck and shoulder on her chaise, the smell of her perfect peppermint exhale in the living room. Worst of all, the only thing she could taste for months was Kagami’s familiar cherry-flavoured lips.

She never had a preference in any flavour. Her parents raised her in a bakery, so she got pretty used to sampling all sorts of flavours and loved them all the same. That was until she and Kagami had their first kiss. All she could taste was cherry. It was the only flavour she had ever craved. She could probably live in it.

Now, the thought of it makes her want to cry and vomit all at once.

Marinette closes her eyes and sucks in a sharp breath. Being back in Paris is awfully overwhelming. Every corner, every turn, every monument has a painful memory attached to it. She’s not ready to remember what it was like to love Kagami because she was never ready to lose her.

But, she came here for a reason. There isn’t anything she can do to bring back Kagami, but she can bring Hell on earth for her. And Marinette is more than ready to make Francois Dupont burn.

Adrien marches into her hotel room without knocking, clearly taking advantage of her spare key. Luckily, she’s already dressed. She clips her hair up and folds her arms across her chest in disapproval.

She’s always admired the way he dresses. His style has certainly evolved from his days of bright orange converse. He always dresses in a classy, clean way with an air of femininity around it. An academic feel with a preference for neutral colours. She loves it.

She’s glad their colours match. While she never voices it, she always tries to match their colours and even predict what he might choose so they can match. It makes them look more put together and planned, even if it mostly isn’t. Their colour palette of tan, khaki, and light pink eases any irritation she had with him for his intrusion. She’s still going to bug him about it, though.

“That key is for emergencies.”

“It is an emergency,” he lies.

She narrows her eyes. “Oh, really? What’s the emergency?”

“The emergency is that I needed to be in your room and I wasn’t.”

She looks at him like he’s stupid because he is. “It’s a mystery to me that you’ve made it this far.”

He bats his eyelashes at her. “I’m a mystery to the world, not just you, Princess. Some speculate it's because of my good looks and charm. Scientists hate me.”

She pats his chest. “Good to know your humour aged like milk.” She scowls as the realization just hits her. “And do not call me Princess.”

“My apologies, my lady. Shall we get down to business?” Adrien pushes down on the door knob, pulling the door open and holding it open for her.

She steps through the door. Their topic of discussion isn’t necessarily unpleasant to the two due to their unfortunate comfort with death, but it is still rather grim. “Thirteen are on my radar. I only have confirmation for four of them, and it’s because I saw them with my own two eyes. They can go first.”

He hums. “Names?”

“Mylène Haprèle, Ivan Bruel, Aurore Beaurèal and Sabrina Raincomprix.” She presses the button on the elevator door. “Mylène is the timid, follower type. I’m not surprised she got roped into this. Ivan is in love with her, so I assume he only went along with it for her.”

“I predict a quick death.”

She nods firmly as they step onto the lift. “No need to make it torturous. I’m not cruel. I can’t say the same for the other two, though. Aurore seemed far too content going along with it. She did the honors of breaking my ankle so I couldn’t run. As for Sabrina, she didn’t do much that day, but she was the one who pulled strings to get the case dismissed. It’s what forced us into a corner and made us accept a deal to make this all go away.”

Adrien chuckles darkly, leaning against the elevator wall. His arms are folded against his chest. “I’m guessing you’re planning on getting pretty creative with these ones? Shall I soundproof the cellar?”

Marinette knows he’s only teasing, but the sinister note in his tone sends shivers of anticipation and excitement up her spine. In a twisted way, she can hardly wait for what comes to follow. She doesn’t really know what to make of that. “That won’t be necessary, kitten. I’m sure I can make do with a nice, big, open field. Or a mouth gag. Whichever is more available to me.”

“And the others? The suspects?”

“Lila Rossi, naturally. Marc Anciel, Nathaniel Kurtzburg, Max Kante, Luka Couffaine, Juleka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Mirielle Caquet, and…” she hesitates on the last name. She doesn’t know how Adrien will feel about it.

He lifts a brow. “And…?”

She sighs, but stands her ground. “Chloé Bourgeois.”

Adrien’s gaze hardens and narrows into slits. “No.”

Adrien didn’t have many friends growing up, despite his charisma, as a result of his father. Though he fell out of touch with Chloé, his bias towards her because of their history is expected. Still, she expects him to understand that Chloé Bourgeois was most certainly not a saint and could have very well played a role. Especially considering she was Sabrina’s best friend.

She steps off the lift, turning her gaze in front of her. “Adrien, I get it, you guys were childhood friends. But, you can’t let that influence you. She could easily be guilty. She has every reason to hate Kagami, her father is the mayor, and she’s not exactly beneath something like that.”

“It’s a big jump from being a high school bully to murder.”

Rage bubbles beneath her skin. “Well, obviously not,” she snaps, serving as a reminder that whoever put Kagami six feet under is probably considered ‘just a high school bully.’

He winces, retracting his claws a bit. “Look, I just really don’t think Chloé would do something like this. I know you don’t get along, but I’ve known her for a long time. Trust me, she can be a bitch, but she wouldn’t do that.”

That’s an unfair card, she thinks. He knows she trusts him with her life, but that doesn’t mean she has to agree with him in every situation.

“I do trust you, but I’m not willing to rule out Chloé yet. I’m not saying she did it, but it’s still possible. I won’t rule it out until I know for sure.”

He opens his mouth to object, but she interjects.

“If she really wouldn’t do that, then you should have no reason to worry about me looking into her. Right?”

Adrien sighs. “Right.”

Marinette cares for Adrien dearly, she really does. However, he’s easily swayed by his emotions, and his natural gift of connecting to people mixed with his history of not having friends makes it harder for him to notice the red flags waving right in front of his face. Despite his willingness to follow Marinette’s rather gruesome plans, he has a softness for people he cares for.

While she appreciates this, and it’s one of the many reasons she loves Adrien, she has to crush it under her heel for the time being. She might care for Adrien, but not as much as she cares about getting justice for Kagami. If she has to force him out of his comfort zone a little to do so, or even if she has to slaughter his childhood friend, she will.

But…

The expression on his face makes her frown. She reaches forward and physically smooths out the crease in his brow with her thumb. “Look, we don’t know anything for sure, kitten. I’m not saying she’s guilty. I’m just saying we need to look into her.”

He relaxes, nodding softly and giving her a soft smile. He quickly switches the topic. “Not to doubt your abilities, Princess, but there’s only two of us. Not sure how you plan to pull off four, let alone thirteen… inconspicuous disappearances within the month we’re going to be here.”

Of course she had thought about that. If nothing else, Marinette is an over-planner to her core. When she plans, she numbers them rather than sticking to the usual a,b,c, etc. She doesn’t want to limit herself to only 26 plans. She thinks about every possible outcome, failure, and remedy.

“Firstly, I don’t plan on inconspicuous disappearances. I’m thinking maybe a few, and then some accidents, and by the time anything connected we can be out of Paris.” God, how she wants to get out of Paris.

He lifts a brow. “I still don’t see how just the two of us are going to manage to pull that off by ourselves.

Marinette slips her arm through his, and they start towards the exit. “What made you think I planned for us to do this all on our own?”

He looks confused, but when they step through the front doors of the hotel, the answer stands right before them.

Marinette watches his eyes focus on them. Her long, curly hair and figure-hugging orange dress that falls to the floor. Her foxy eyes, brown skin and smirking lips. His short hair, covered by a green hat, newly lithe and tall physique, and complexion that matches his companions.

One of the slyest duos in all of Paris— second only to Marinette and Adrien— Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe.

chapter two posted on ao3

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#djwifi #miraculous ladybug #mlb #serial killer au #fanfic #adrien x marinette #adrienette #marigami #murder #morally grey

[kissed-by-snow]

My Take on the Radiant Quote

Jon noticed the shy looks she [Myrcella] gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn't even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

His half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers.

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon [...] Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall. 

- A Game of Thrones, Jon I

Let me begin by saying I don’t think Jon describes Sansa this way because of  a romantic interest in her. However,  I do think this quote is interesting because it describes their relationship in a different way and has other implications. One way to read this quote is by contrasting to how he sees about Myrcella to how he sees Sansa. 

Objectively, both Sansa and Myrcella feel the same about the boys escorting them - flushed and lovestruck, but Jon calls Sansa radiant and Myrcella insipid and stupid.

The reason for this could be multiple things:

he’s notes how happy she is (notice he doesn’t talk about Arya’s appearance - which is probably either disappointed, disgruntled or neutral - most likely because Sansa’s happiness is so vibrant)

a side observation might be that he’s never seen Sansa look so happy?

he’s happy that she’s happy (calls her radiant when he could have mocked her admiration by calling her insipid)

This leads me to believe that their relationship isn’t as bad as people usually interpret it to be. I think they had a fairly neutral relationship but didn’t have much to bond over (he’s into swords, she’s into embroidery he was a punk, she did ballet, what more can I say) and with contrasting personalities, tended not to gravitate towards each other. So, a neutral but respectful relationship considering their own duties, roles and how they spend their time (which was mainly in different social circles).

Now, the people Jon most frequently remembers are his father (for obvious reasons) Robb and Arya.

First, let’s begin with Jon’s relationship with Robb.

Robb, his rival and best friend and constant companion;

- AGOT, Jon III

Jon told the story of how he and Robb had found the pups newborn in the late summer snows.

Robb and Bran and Rickon were his father's sons, and he loved them still, yet Jon knew that he had never truly been one of them.

Jon had often hunted with his father and Jory and his brother Robb. He knew the wolfswood around Winterfell as well as any man

- AGOT Jon IV

Jon was still not certain how he felt about it. Robb a king? The brother he'd played with, fought with, shared his first cup of wine with? But not mother's milk, no. So now Robb will sip summerwine from jeweled goblets, while I'm kneeling beside some stream sucking snowmelt from cupped hands. "Robb will make a good king," he said loyally.

- ACOK, Jon I

...so Robb and he used to climb the towers of Winterfell to shout at each other across the yard.

- ASOS, Jon VII

Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.

- ASOS, Jon X

When Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. 

- ASOS, Jon XI

You can't be the Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born, he heard Robb say again. And the stone kings were growling at him with granite tongues. You do not belong here.

A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. 

- ASOS, Jon XII

It reminded him of warmer, simpler days, when he had been a boy at Winterfell matching blades with Robb under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel

- ADWD, Jon VI

From the above quotes, we see that Jon’s memories oscillate between feeling fond and mildly resentful/jealous of his brother. They’ve been together the longest and had the most in common but Jon was constantly aware of the distance in status between them. And when you consider the fact that Ned wanted Jon to have the best education possible, Robb and Jon had more reasons to spend time together but his status as a bastard in comparison to Robb’s as the heir of Winterfell, does seem to hold him a little back from having a bond as close as the one he has to Arya. 

Now Jon and Arya almost seem to have too many reasons to be close. From sharing the Stark look (which in the books, only they share and which may have made Jon feel a little better compared to Robb) to feeling out of place (Jon as a bastard and Arya not wanting to conform to traditional femininity) and having common interests (fighting, mainly). Add on to the fact that Arya is almost just as likely to inherit Winterfell as Jon? Yeah, they have every reason to be close.  

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. 

AGOT, Jon III

Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike

ACOK, Jon VI

She wasn't wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but "spearwife" fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier

ASOS, Jon II

Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.

But what if Arya was not there to be saved? What if Lady Melisandre's flames had told it true? Could his sister truly have escaped such captors? How would she do that? Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth.

ADWD, Jon VII

He wanted to believe it would be Arya. He wanted to see her face again, to smile at her and muss her hair, to tell her she was safe. She won't be safe, though. Winterfell is burned and broken and there are no more safe places.

Wherever he might send her, though, Arya would need silver to support her, a roof above her head, someone to protect her. She was only a child.

“Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

ADWD, Jon IX

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.

ADWD, Jon XI

Compared to Robb, every memory Jon has of Arya is positive. He emphasizes their similarities and feels protective of her as she was the closest family member to him (and he still thinks of her as a child in ADWD which is why Jonarya makes me feel more than a little uncomfortable). He sees her in everything and everyone because she’s directly tied to his happiest memories and is his closest tie to the Stark family.

TL: DR - So, the reason he reminisces about Robb is because he grew up with him (and was a similar age to him, had the same education and also shared a father) and even more with Arya because they related to each other the most and had the Stark look (especially Arya because he doesn’t have the attached semi-resentment of Robb becoming the lord of winterfell, because it’s what he’s always wanted).

This doesn’t mean that Jon and Sansa’s relationship was awful or horrible or that they hated each other. Just that Jon has more memories and similarities to Robb and Arya.

Moving forward, I would like to see them develop a closer relationship (once they reunite - I’m tentatively in the camp of Grey Girl Sansa -  through their own reciprocal experiences (Jon, from bastard to Lord Commander, and Sansa, from Lady to Bastard), learning the value of home (both Jon and Sansa were most eager to leave, albeit for different reasons) and coming to appreciate each other’s compatible but different skill sets. 

#mine #jon and sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #anti jonarya #just in case #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #jonsa meta #meta #long post #a song of ice and fire #book jonsa #jon and robb #jon and arya #sibling relationships #got #game of thrones #grey girl sansa #grey girl prophecy #sansa stark is the grey girl #agot #acok #asos #afwc #adwd #my post

[alinaastarkov]

i am not an anti or a jonrya, i'm just trying to get a grasp on whether or not there's foreshadowing for it. I don't mean offense but I hope you'll humor me. Couldn't Jon thinking of Arya when he meets Ygritte just be him comparing her with his biggest female influence, Bran compares Meera to Arya! Jon saying "What do you know of my heart?" could just be Jon guarding the part of him that loves all of his siblings. Do you think there's any unambiguous evidence? No hate tho, you do you! x

Hey! No offence at all I’m happy to elaborate on asks like this x

There is merit to what you’re saying about the Ygritte comparison, but I am gonna have to disagree. Jon comparing Ygritte to Arya makes sense because they have similar personalities and it helps his admiration of her grow that they are so similar. Jon and Arya are close, naturally someone similar to Arya would be a huge plus in Jon’s eyes.

Jon could see fear and fire in her eyes. Blood ran down her white throat from where the point of his dirk had pricked her. One thrust and it's done, he told himself. He was so close he could smell onion on her breath. She is no older than I am. Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike. "Will you yield?" he asked, giving the dirk a half turn. And if she doesn't? - Jon VI, ACOK

"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? He had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard's motherless bastard, with no more place at Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy. And even that he'd lost. When a man of the Night's Watch said his words, he put aside his old family and joined a new one, but Jon Snow had lost those brothers too. - Jon III, ASOS

(I’m gonna come back to that second quote cause it’s important).

But these moments aren’t really what we mean when we talk about Jon comparing them meaning romance. It certainly adds up - the qualities he likes in his lover being the same as Arya can’t be ignored, but it’s these moments that are more overt for the romantic foreshadowing:

Ygritte watched and said nothing. She was older than he'd thought at first, Jon realized; maybe as old as twenty, but short for her age, bandy-legged, with a round face, small hands, and a pug nose. Her shaggy mop of red hair stuck out in all directions. She looked plump as she crouched there, but most of that was layers of fur and wool and leather. Underneath all that she could be as skinny as Arya. - Jon VI, ACOK

Ygritte trotted beside Jon as he slowed his garron to a walk. She claimed to be three years older than him, though she stood half a foot shorter; however old she might be, the girl was a tough little thing. Stonesnake had called her a "spearwife" when they'd captured her in the Skirling Pass. She wasn't wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but "spearwife" fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore. - Jon II, ASOS

This is what jumps out as being super inappropriate and definitely non-brotherly. What kind of brother thinks about his lover’s naked body and the compares it to his sister? Not mine, that’s for certain, and thank god. It’s so odd to have this kind of thought if they are supposed to have a pure, sibling bond. Compare that to Bran, whose thoughts are similar to Jon’s first impressions:

“He wouldn't hurt you. He knows I like you." All of the other lords and knights had departed within a day or two of the harvest feast, but the Reeds had stayed to become Bran's constant companions. Jojen was so solemn that Old Nan called him "little grandfather," but Meera reminded Bran of his sister Arya. She wasn't scared to get dirty, and she could run and fight and throw as good as a boy. She was older than Arya, though; almost sixteen, a woman grown. They were both older than Bran, even though his ninth name day had finally come and gone, but they never treated him like a child. - Bran IV, ACOK

Bran never has a moment of thinking about nakedness and Arya, he simply admires the qualities they share which are mostly playful, childhood fun. Bran is also much younger than Jon, and Meera never entered into a relationship with Bran like Ygritte did with Jon. Yes, they both admire Arya-like qualities they find in other women, but on top of that Jon thinks some overtly physical/ almost sexual things and connects them to Arya. I think there’s a clear difference here between Bran’s brotherly thoughts, and Jon’s rather inappropriate thoughts.

Going back to the passage from before, Jon thinks this:

Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? - Jon III, ASOS

Bran never has a moment of doubt like this. Arya always is and will always be his sister. Understandable. Jon, however, doubts it constantly. Because of his vows, his bastardy, but there’s something else too. He doubts his other siblings as well, but he doubts it with Arya the most, perhaps rationalising his less-than-brotherly thoughts about her.

There’s no doubt Jon loves all his siblings. He thinks of Bran and Robb constantly and so many quotes are about them, his whole family.

When Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. And after them came Sansa and Arya. Even to dream otherwise seemed disloyal, as if he were betraying them in his heart, wishing for their deaths. I never wanted this, he thought as he stood before the blue-eyed king and the red woman. I loved Robb, loved all of them . . . I never wanted any harm to come to any of them, but it did. And now there's only me. All he had to do was say the word, and he would be Jon Stark, and nevermore a Snow. All he had to do was pledge this king his fealty, and Winterfell was his. All he had to do . . . . . . was forswear his vows again. - Jon XI, ASOS

Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. The Night's Watch takes no part. He closed his fist and opened it again. What you propose is nothing less than treason. He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … - Jon XIII, ADWD

“What do you know of my heart” is not one of these times. There are no two ways about it, whether you’re a shipper or not. That quote is about Arya, and Arya alone. Jon’s heart is Arya.

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you." "I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?" "Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …" "… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will." - Jon VI, ADWD

This passage makes it pretty clear. Arya is the one in his thoughts, pretty much exclusively, leading up to this, because of the news of her marriage and Jon’s several attempts to rescue her. Melisandre is the first one to connect Jon’s heart to Arya his sister, and Jon’s thoughts are so explicit here. Arya is his heart, the person who means the most to him. Shipper or not, that’s a fact, though to me, having a brother with the same age gap and both of us would find it very, very weird for him to call me his “heart”, it is extremely romantic. Calling someone your actual “heart” so earnestly is extremely romantic and meaningful. It makes sense seeing as Jon goes on to die for Arya later on.

To me, these are pretty unambiguous. There’s a clear difference between Jon’s thoughts about Arya to the rest of his siblings/ other Starks’ feelings towards each other. I’ve explored more quotes that are hard to be viewed through a sibling lens here too. I’ll just leave you with a quote from GRRM’s original outline because that thing is basically heaven to us Jonrya shippers.

Arya will be more forgiving ... until she realizes, with terror, that she has fallen in love with Jon, who is not only her half-brother but a man of the Night's Watch, sworn to celibacy. Their passion will continue to torment Jon and Arya throughout the trilogy, until the secret of Jon's true parentage is finally revealed in the last book.

#jonrya #asoiaf #my meta #asoiaf meta #jonrya meta #jon snow #arya stark #jon x arya #acok #asos #adwd #original outline #Anonymous #neve has mail

[intriga-hounds]

Prompt: No punctuation

this is actually from week 2, but i never shared it bc i hated this prompt!!! punctuation is my everything. 

anyway, i was unhappy with what i wrote, so i rewrote it from a new pov. the rewrite is at the top, the original is beneath. 

this is easily my least favorite thing i’ve written for this club lol

Revisit: Changed POV

Well the mall was open again today thank goodness I nearly committed infanticide about thirteen times during the shutdown and even while I was out I wasnt completely sure I didnt want to stop at Home Depot on the way home for duct tape and a shovel you know what I mean hahaha oh no you know I love Brynly and Jaxsen more than anything in the world I would absolutely never anyway as I was saying the mall was finally open again thank you Governor Newsom finally using some common sense and so I left the kids with Ryan to have a little time to myself but not all the stores were open so I had to sweep through real quick to see what was open so that I could plan the whole thing out luckily most of my favorites were open like Lucky Brandddd Nordstrommmm and Lululemon and I have been DYING to go to Lulu because I just started a hot yoga class in Huntington Beach that was supposed to be closed but has just stayed open anyway and you dont even have to wear a mask well anyway there was a line at most of the stores and just about every place was having a sale God there were signs everywhere 50 percent off this BOGO that basically it was a dream come true so I started at Lulu since you know thats my absolute favorite I mean I scoured the app the night before to look at all the cute new summer stuff and when I walked up there wasnt any line which was amazing but there was this girl like guarding the door seriously like actually guarding it like a bouncer she even looked like a bouncer like she was kind of you know on the heavier side and really mean looking but shes in head to toe Lulu so I know shes not actual security shes wearing like the spring 2019 Wunder Under tight and then she had that new Cates Tee Ive been wanting I mean it was MEANT for me it has the same name as me like Kate in a Cates Tee just has to happen so I go up to the doors to go in but Bouncer Girl stops me and is like maam did your appointment come up and Im like excuse me appointment and she goes oh yeah if you scan this QR code itll lead you to a webpage where you can join the virtual line to shop in the store the wait is about 30 minutes right now and Im just floored Im like 30 minutes and shes like yes 30 minutes there are a few parties ahead of you and Im just looking at her like wow I mean it was unbelievable I mean you could see into the store and it was basically empty and I told her that but she was just like yes thats because the store only has a capacity of 15 people according to the safety guidelines and I just was like really seriously that makes NO sense cant you just let me in when those people are done checking out and shes all no Im sorry maam theres a party of three who are next in the virtual line and I just start laughing in her face because that line isnt REAL and theyre not even HERE they wouldnt even KNOW I skipped ahead of them I mean I already know what I want anyway so just let me in I just want to pick up a few things and then she gets this tone with me shes like well these other parties just want to pick up a few things too maam were happy to have you shop with us but youre going to have to join the virtual line and I just cut her off there I was like whatever no forget it Ill just take my business elsewhere I mean obviously because if this is how they treat their customers why would I even go there just ridiculous and honestly Im still thinking about calling corporate because thats really wrong I mean Ive shopped there for years and most of the gals working there know me by name I dont even know who this girl was but she mustve been new because she just didnt have a clue and she was so rude because even as I was walking away she goes have a nice day with the fakest cheer Ive ever heard like I just know she thought she was so hilarious the next time I go to the mall Im going to see if the store manager is in because someone like that just shouldnt be working for Lululemon you know what I mean like theyre an established and really classy popular brand and for that price point they really shouldnt be abusing their regulars like this its just wrong but yeah anyway if you do go to the mall make sure you look out for virtual lines or whatever because it seriously ruined the whole trip for me

Original:

The mall was open again thank goodness Kate had nearly committed infanticide about thirteen times during the shutdown and even now wasnt completely sure she didnt want to stop at Home Depot on the way home for duct tape and a shovel mostly that was a joke to herself a little Wine Mom humor if you will after all Denise had said something similarly hilarious last week at Mom Group but it wasnt really something you could say to just anyone or theyd call the cops or something thankfully there would be no need for that the mall was open and Kate could actually leave the kids with Ryan and have some time to herself though not all stores were open most of them were including many of Kates favorites such as Lucky Brand Nordstrom and Lululemon some had lines to enter but others were ready and waiting for her their windows filled with giant sale signs and bogo deals slashed prices and numbers with percentage symbols it was altogether overwhelming Lululemon was first on her list as she had already scoured the Lulu app for cute new arrivals she was interested in trying on surprisingly there was no line just a plump girl in patterned 28 inch Wunder Under tights from last springs collection and the new Cates Tee in brick an aptly named top Kate felt since it was at the top of her wishlist but as she went to enter the store Wunder Under stopped her with a maam did your appointment come up appointment yes if you scan this QR code itll lead you to a webpage where you can join the virtual line to shop in the store the wait is about 30 minutes right now thirty minutes yes there are a few parties ahead of you Kate gaped at her this is unbelievable she said the store is practically empty yes thats because the store only has a capacity of 15 people according to the safety guidelines well cant you just let me in when those people are done checking out no Im sorry maam theres a group of three who are next in the virtual line theyre not even here so why cant you just let me in I just have a few things I want to pick up yes well we are happy to have you shop with us maam but youll have to join the virtual yes okay whatever I get it maam are you going to no forget it Ill just take my business elsewhere okay have a nice day yeah

Challenge from the book: punctuate the following sentence with only three semicolons

All that is is all that is not is not that that is is not that that is not that is all.

#writing

[otherworldkings]

after 89729384789234 years, it is i, ebony, with hades’ intro LMFAO. 

i am ebony. i am 22. EST. most of y’all know me by now dijfsodjf anyways here’s the intro

--

𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞  𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧  𝐚  𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞  …  hades was  known  as  the  mysterious  &  ominous  god of the underworld  with  a  reputation  for  being  a  joel kinnaman  doppelganger  .   but  now  ,  under  the  stress  of  the  war  on  the  horizon  ,  the  natural  born  villain  has  become  widely  known  for  being  nihilistic &  short-tempered  .   let’s  see  how  long  the  olympus native  will  last  during  this  war  .   after  all  they’re  only  36 appearance wise / immortal.   +  he/him  cismale  ,  greek mythology.

--

I. THE MOST STOIC OF THE THREE young, tall - a silent pillar to support his two rowdy brothers. he would do anything for them, from covering up zeus’ cheating to angry girlfriends to throwing rhea off of poseidon’s troublesome trail. of course, it is because they have seen him at his worst, have and would do the same. he is the eldest and so he acts that way, comfortably in the shadows of zeus’ spotlight. he’s private and doesn’t talk much; listens first and asks questions second. he is less a god and more a silent knight. it is this disposition that results in him swallowing feelings down until it burns and screams inside his stomach.

II. WAR CHANGES A MAN he wears scars and bruises like they are the latest fashion. skin that runs hot heals quickly on a god’s body - but titan’s blood spattered on arms enveloped in blue flames seem to never disappear. he gets to know death quite well on the battlefield; as if it is the fates who have already dictated his future as king of the underworld. 

III. LOTS ARE DRAWN hades is not initially happy about the Underworld. it is only with zeus’ comforting words that all men eventually fall to their knees for him that he begrudgingly assumes the responsibility of the GOD OF THE DEAD. here, he realizes he is in over his head. in olympus, death is nonexistent among gluttonous gods who laugh at mortality. but here, is where the sufferings of mortality are shoved down his throat. 

the first centuries are a blur, with no one but a whimpering, three-headed guardian to soothe the pain in his soul. the underworld, he realizes, is a living entity that feeds off the souls that enter its mouth. its tendrils sink sharp claws into a tender heart until there is nothing but cold iron in its wake. there is no sympathy when dealing with the dead. there is no empathy.

only fairness.

only balance.

only justice.

his name becomes only a whisper upon olympians’ tongues. they fear it so much they give him a new one: Pluto. they do not dare attract hades or death himself at their doorstep. when giving sacrifices, they turn their faces away. he is both feared and loathed, for no one is in a hurry to meet the cruel, unyielding face at the end of their life. 

IV. PERSEPHONE, OH PERSEPHONE he is an icy, bitter king when he meets the love of his life in a field of flora and fauna. the initial sight of her is enough to breathe life in an immortal, walking corpse. she is the epitome of life, and for the first time in a millennia, hades finds a reason to live. it is her sunshine that finally makes his long since jaded self crack. she is lost in his charm, just as he is lost in hers. persephone makes flowers bloom in places that have long since been dead to mother nature. the start of hades’ downfall begins with the juice of plump, pomegranate seeds running down her lowered lip as their promise of forever is sealed with a kiss. to only have less than half a year with his wife, however, does little to help the strain that hades already feels as the king of the underworld. time will only tell if their love for each other will prevail all odds.

--

he relishes in the reputation he holds - the one that scares mortals and the like. there is little that mortals know of him, and only recently has hades begun to open his realm up even to his family within olympus. he has retired mostly from being the violent king he once was, but his sense of justice and fairness prevails. he does not get joy out of turning away those who beg for their dead loved ones to be revived. but even through a beggar’s tears, hades remains steadfast and unyielding in his main rule: no soul is allowed to leave the underworld, and there are to be no cheaters of death.

--

WANTED CONNECTIONS

a witch to turn his dear Cerberus back into his 3-headed dog self so that he can have his guard of the underworld back

perhaps even a temporary guardian bc good lord a human cannot prevent souls from leaving. so far hades has taken this duty upon himself but this would be an interesting plot? WITH THESE TWO PLOTS, MUST PLOT IT OUT WITH @esoteriics (cerberus) AS WELL

friends

enemies/people who dislike him; perhaps because they blame him for the death of a loved one?

surrogate children? hades, i think, has an underlying desire to be a dad, but truly does not believe he would make a good one

previous victims - hades rarely interferes with the correct time someone is supposed to die, but back in his more violent days, he has killed many who have wronged him and without remorse. 

previous hookups - pre-persephone of course

open to anything really? i am open to discussion, PREFERABLY on discord: bunny#2957

UNDEAD COMPANIONS??? he has a funny thing against the undead that walk the surface because he believes they are cheaters of death (bc they are. why won’t they just die >:( ). but yeah! maybe it’s someone he dislikes. maybe it’s someone he grows to like. change his stereotypes of the undead idjfiosjdf

#tales.intro #it's been 80 years....

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part IX

Chapter Summary: This chapter is transitional, so bear with me. I’ll be borrowing some ideas from the NATM movies, but mostly doing whatever I want to the plot to make it more Ahk-centric. Part X will be the final, action-packed chapter, but I do have an epilogue outlined, too. 

Part I,  Part II,  Part III,  Part IV,  Part V,  Part VI,  Part VII,  Part VIII

Story Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch  @kpopperotp12  @seafrost-fangirl  @sassystrawberryk  @perfect-rami  @txmel   @limabein   and  @rami-malek-trash for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated the feedback!

Warnings: None

It was mid-April, and you smiled as the sun warmed your skin. Although the air still held a chill, it was clear from the budding trees lining the courtyard that summer would soon make an appearance. It had been a particularly brutal east coast winter, and even though the thought of summer brought forth deep pangs of nostalgia, the sun was a welcome change.

“Okay, Y/N,” Chelsea said as she flicked a long strand of hair over her shoulder. “One more time from the top.”

 You began the introduction to your thesis defense for the tenth time that afternoon. In two weeks, you would be in front of a room of both your current and potential peers delivering your defense. The details of your work had drawn a lot of curiosity, so your chairs warned you that it would be a full house. You felt your work as a TA prepared you pretty well for addressing a full auditorium, but you knew that you probably wouldn’t sleep properly until this was all over. To secure job offers, your delivery needed to be stellar.

 In addition to professors, a variety of museum directors and field experts, including the museum director of Cairo, were flying in to listen to your defense. Thanks to Ryan, your name had become familiar to the director in Cairo, and he began to closely follow your publications. If your defense went well, you could be fielding offers not only from all over the states, but globally.

 After Ryan’s six months in Africa, he transferred to The University of Sydney to finalize his thesis and finish his PhD. You always had a hunch that he’d return home, and you sent a text congratulating him, wishing him the best. He’d responded something similar and that was the last you had talked to him in a while. As much of a presence as Ry once was in your life, it was shocking how quickly you could put a person behind you.

 Unless, of course, you were still in love with that person. Despite Ahkmenrah’s last words and his desire to no longer see you, your feelings had not waned. The days did get easier, and you were actually prone to smiling and going out with your friends, but when it got quiet, when you ran out of things to keep your mind occupied, your mind flooded with your memories of him.

 It had been eight months since you had seen Ahk, nearly double the time you had actually spent with him. That was one of the reasons you knew your feelings were real, unlike anything you had experienced before. Normally, like with Ryan, when someone was out of your life, they were just that—out. You thought of them less and less until you never thought of them at all. That was the nature of life—people came and went, just like in that verse from the “Prufrock” poem by T.S. Eliot: “In the room the women come and go. Talking of Michelangelo.”  

 You still had to work every single day to keep thoughts of Ahkmenrah at bay.

 Chelsea finalized her markings in your notebook and handed it back to you.

 “I really think you should stick to opening with that in-depth description of the Nile—the sight, the sound, the smell—it’s riveting. It sets up the scene for the Egyptians acceptance of Akhenaten’s proposal—one river that gives life, one god that gives life.”

 You nodded, drawing a star by Chels’s note.

 “I’ll rework the PowerPoint tonight. Can I buy you dinner as a thank-you?”

 Chelsea laughed, “You don’t need to keep feeding me. I’m happy to help. God knows you’ve proofed enough of my papers over the years.”

 You grinned and shrugged your shoulders.

 “Does that mean you aren’t hungry?”

 Chelsea shrugged into her backpack and said, “Hey. Let’s not get hasty now.”

 The two of you giggled together as you decided on a place for dinner.

 * * * * *

 After latching your door and sliding the deadbolt into place, you dropped your backpack by the coffee table and headed to the fridge to grab a water. You wanted to make Chelsea’s suggested change to your PowerPoint presentation and then settle in to do yet another round of edits.

 You nearly had each slide memorized, but when you got to the part of your presentation that challenged your field’s previous notions about Egyptian royalty and argued that the emergence of monogamy in marriages made for a natural evolution to Akhenaten’s monotheistic cult, you paused, your mind swirling with thoughts of Ahkmenrah and his parents.

 You knew once your mind began swirling with memories of Ahk that your proofing skills were rubbish after that, so you shut your laptop and made a cup of tea, sipping it while you watched some light television.

 This was your nightly routine; the more you could push away your thoughts of Ahkmenrah and the museum, the easier it would be to fall asleep.

 You settled into bed, and after about a half an hour of tossing and turning, you fell asleep.

  ~ ~ ~

The cat in your lap purred, its sleek, warm body a welcome weight. You smiled as you stroked the fur behind its ears, noticing that the cat was curled tightly in your lap, settled on your white linen dress that fluttered around your ankles; golden bangles intermixed with brightly colored beaded bangles adorned both of your arms and jingled pleasantly as you moved.

 As you looked up from the sweet creature snuggled on your lap, you smiled as you took in the scene before you. Below, the Nile sparkled in the sun, its lifegiving waters reflecting a deep blue that reminded you of a stormcloud plump with rain. Palm trees littered the banks, grouped in clusters that shaded the grass underneath.

 A strong, but soft hand, one that you knew well, slid over your bare shoulder. Your eyes closed to your husband’s loving touch, his fingers eliciting goosebumps as they slid down your upper arm.

 “Still so sensitive to my touch, love?”

 “Mmm,” you hummed, eyes still shut as Ahkmenrah’s presence enveloped you.

 “Would you like to join me for the meeting with the builders? They believe they have figured out a way to extend irrigation channels into Fayyum to revitalize the fields there.”

 “Oh? That’s excellent news!”

 Ahkmenrah returned your grin, reaching to take your chin in this hand, his fingers grasping the point to tilt your head up. He leaned down for a kiss, sweet, at first, but with a quick swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip, it occurred to you that it was odd for the king to be visiting you mid-afternoon.

 You licked across your lower lip, relishing in the taste of him.

 “Is there something else that you wanted, my king?”

 “I missed you,” Ahkmenrah said with an earnestness that squeezed your heart.

 “I always miss you,” you said, gently prodding your sleepy companion until they leapt off your lap, allowing you to stand and stretch before turning to face your husband.

 You slid your hands up his biceps and locked your eyes onto his. His eyes were particularly blue today, not unlike the Nile. Words weren’t needed as you looked at each other, love etched across both of your faces.

 Ahkmenrah pulled you close to him and closed his lips over yours once more. Soon, you were lost in the passion of the kiss, in the way his body felt against yours, and in the warmth that radiated from his love.

 ~ ~ ~

You gasped as you bolted upright, sweat pooling at your lower back and across your temples. It was the third night in a row that you had this same dream and its vividness continued to overwhelm you. Similar dreams had plagued you over the months, but there was something about the clarity and the purity of emotion within this dream that made it much worse than the others.

 The tears were already formed and as you laid back down, they silently spilled onto your pillow. You knew that no matter the results of your dissertation, you would have to put distance between yourself and Ahk.

 When you loved someone, sometimes you really did have to let them go.

 * * * * *

 Normally, you weren’t one for big parties, but the laughter and spontaneous emission of congratulations along with the buzz of the bar, the clang of glasses, the din of the band in the next room, were all a welcomed cacophony. You hadn’t a clue how many drinks had been bought for you and even worse, consumed by you, but you were the happiest you had been in months.

 You passed!

 You earned your PhD and you had a small pile of job offers to sort through, although you already knew which one you were going to take. It wasn’t quite as much money as some of the others, but it was your dream; and even better than fulfilling your dream, you would be able to give something back to the person who had helped you in your hour of need.

 After you had presented your defense, as you were shaking hands with Dr. Omar Gamal, the director of the Museum of Cairo, an idea took shape and you weren’t ashamed to think that it really was brilliant.

 As you finished the drink in your hand, you gathered everyone’s attention to announce that you were taking the job in Cairo. Cheers erupted and you couldn’t stop grinning as your friends and family took turns congratulating you and peppering you with questions.

 What you didn’t tell anyone was that you already knew exactly what you were going to do once you got there, thanks to Ahkmenrah’s papyruses and your journey through his memories. If you couldn’t be the one to bring happiness into Ahk’s life, then perhaps a reunion with his parents could.

 * * * * *

 By early September, you were well settled in Cairo. Finding Merenkahre and Shepseheret proved to be easier than you expected. In the basement of Cairo’s museum, there was a repository of unidentified mummies, most proving to be average Egyptians who had just enough money to build a decent tomb.

 Apparently, as a final insult, Kahmunrah had buried his parents as commoners to ensure their afterlife would be the opposite of the glorious affair normally reserved for the royals. To Kahmun, a life without luxury was the true punishment, so you really weren’t shocked to find that he did bury both of his parents together. Of course something like love wouldn’t have been valuable to him.

Villains. In the end, they’re all the same.  

 At first, Omar thought you were crazy, and you thought that you were going to for sure get fired. One of the most prominent kings of the Middle Kingdom and his beloved wife were Unidentified Mummies #17 and #18? Impossible.

 But after extensive tests, you were able to prove that the ages and the causes of death matched that of Merenkahre and Shepseheret. What you weren’t able to do was reveal your exact source. It took a lot of cross referencing and circular explanations, but Omar was diverted when you made your proposition for an exciting new exhibit, and even more diverted when you made your proposition to reunite Merenkahre and Shepseheret with their son, Ahkmenrah.

 Omar’s dream was to return all major Egyptian exhibits to their homeland in order to declare them property of the Museum of Cairo. Lending them out to travel the world was one thing, but it was a true indecency when colonizers were the ones who still owned what was taken from the Egyptians’ land.  

 You had sketched up a proposal of showing the three layers of royal Egyptian life—the throne room, the Royal Wife’s garden, and the prince’s chambers. The only hitch in your plan was that to raise the funds for a permanent exhibit in Cairo, you had to build the exhibit at the British Museum of Natural History. If they held the first rights to display, they would fund a permanent exhibit in Cairo.

 The British Museum could also secure the rights to display Ahkmenrah because the American museum was willing to trade Ahk for the mummy of Ahmose-Meritamun; the Americans would then be able to create a female-centric display, something they had been looking to do to showcase the prominence of women during the Ancient Egyptian empire.

 The only thing left to do was to ensure that Larry and Rebecca helped to keep your surprise—when Ahkmenrah was ready to be moved, he should know only the scarcest of details.

 For the first time in a long time, everything was going according to plan.

 * * * * *

 After Omar popped the top of the champagne, the cork skittered across the floor and you and your team laughed as you held out glasses out to catch the bubbly alcohol.

 Merenkahre and Shepseheret’s exhibits were a smash hit. Your PR team had been hyping the return of Ahkmenrah next month to complete the triage of Egyptian royals and opening night had already been sold out.

 The current exhibit of Merenkahre and Shepseheret had been featured in multiple publications and the detail of each layer of royal life had cemented your place as one of the top anthropologists in the world. You never forgot that you owed it all to Ahkmenrah, and you never forgot that you were really doing all of this for him. Within the next month, he would be reunited with his parents.

 Your phone rang, its music invasive and interrupting the happy atmosphere.  

 You sipped the top of your champagne before it could overflow and checked the screen.

 Larry.

 Larry never called. He was a texter, and it had been a long time since you talked. He was still working as the night guard, but he started going to classes to get his teaching degree. Aunt Rebecca was proud of his initiative, and she had kept you up to date on his progress; had she been calling, you wouldn’t have thought twice about letting it go to voicemail and checking it later. But Larry calling . . . something wasn’t right.  

 “I gotta answer this—be right back!” you said as you moved away from the laughter and the even happier chatter.

 “Hey Lar—what’s up?”

 “Y/N! I’m so glad you answered. Look, I’m not sure how to tell you this, and he doesn’t even know I’m calling you because he’d probably sick those jackals on me if he did find out and we all know—”

 “Larry. You’re babbling. What’s going on?”

 “Ahk’s sick.”

 “Sick? He’s a regenerated mummy. He comes back to life in perfect health, perfectly restored. How could he be . . . sick?”

 “It’s the tablet. I think the tablet is . . . dying.”

 You had made your way to the end of the hallway where a large set of stairs led up to the display. You sat down, hard, on the top stair, your body numb, your mind whirring—you were so close to giving Ahkmenrah his parents back. He couldn’t be dying, for fuck’s sake. He just couldn’t be.

 “Tell me everything.”

#Ahkmenrah #ahk #ahkmenrah fanfiction #NATM #natm ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah imagine #ahkmenrah x reader #female reader #rami malek #rami malek's character #ahk x reader

[ritualmichael]

Stress Relief - Michael Langdon x Reader

ive been getting a lot of requests for shower smut and at first it was going to be really rough sex but uh, that didnt happen. michael going down on the reader is just my weakness im sorry. blame the Tongue Thing.

warning: female!receiving oral

It had been a long day at work, stressful meetings and too many deadlines to even remember. You had been waiting for the moment that you would finally get home to Michael, knowing he would help you forget all about it. When you got home, the entire place was empty, or so it seemed. Walking into your bedroom, you sat your stuff down on the bed and heard the shower turn on. You figured that he must’ve lost track of time and forgotten that you would be home now.

Without a second thought, you tiredly kicked off your shoes and made your way to the bathroom, opening the door. Walking in, you could see the shadow of Michael’s body through the shower curtain. You quickly stripped off your clothes, letting them join Michael’s on the floor.

Gently pushing the shower curtain back, you stepped into the shower and caught a glance at Michael’s toned back before he turned around. Running his hands over his wet face to wipe it off and pushing his long hair out of the way, his eyes ran over your bare body.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he said, a smile on his face as he reached out, pulling you closer to him by your hips. The warm water began to fall on your body, making you shiver. “How was work?”

“Stressful,” you groaned, dropping your head against his chest and letting the water drench you. He pulled you into him, his hands running up and down your back as the water poured down it. Steam was rising out of the shower, making the haze and warmth surround you both.

He hooked a finger under your chin, making you lean back and peer up at him. Droplets of water ran down his face and you thought he looked ethereal. He leaned down and you met his lips with yours, letting out a long sigh of relief at his touch. His hands pressed into your back, holding you against him and you moved your mouth with his in a perfectly delicate rhythm.

“Let me make you feel better,” he said as he pulled away from the kiss, ducking his head down into the crook of your neck and planting kisses to your skin. You simply nodded, letting your eyes close as you felt the stress starting to dissolve at his touch. He always knew the right things to do.

He gently guided you against the wall, the cool tile making you jump. You felt him chuckle against your neck, nipping at your skin before pulling away.

“Sorry, forgot about that,” he said and you watched as he kneeled down on the shower floor. His hands moved to your lower back and eased your hips forward, his mouth meeting your stomach as he started to leave wet kisses on your skin. You dropped your head back against the wall, letting out a content hum and slipping your fingers into his wet hair.

He trailed his sloppy but slow kisses down until he reached your lower stomach, pulling away and pushing you legs apart gently. You watched as he hooked his hand under one of your knees, lifting your leg up and letting it rest over his shoulder. You reached down and one of his hands quickly met yours, helping hold you steady since you were now only standing on one leg on the slippery tile floor.

“Just relax for me, baby,” he said lowly, turning his head and beginning to kiss your thigh that rested on his shoulder. His teeth nipped at your delicate skin and his tongue dipped out with every kiss. You pushed your fingers through his hair, moving it out of his face so you could watch his slow work against your skin. The thick air already made it hard to breathe, Michael’s touches just making it harder.

You couldn’t help but push you hips forward, a small whimper leaving your lips. You loved every moment of his slow kisses against your thigh but you needed more. The water was slightly falling on the both of you, enough for it leave streams of water rolling down your torso and down his back. The whole moment just felt heavenly.

He looked up at you, tsking under his breath at you. “I said relax, didn’t it?”

You uttered a weak “sorry”, releasing all of the tension in your body. You were glad you had the support of his hand or otherwise your leg probably would’ve given out by now.

He watched as you did as he said, humming in approval and moved his mouth to your lower stomach. His parted lips grazed down your wet skin until he reached your core, making you gasp. A shiver ran through your body as he pressed his mouth to you, his tongue gliding through your folds. The water streaming down your body met his mouth, making you moan as you saw it wetting his lips and running down his chin.

You tightly gripped his hand that was holding you up, letting out a breathless moans as you watched him work his mouth against you, his eyes lazily opening and looking up to meet yours. God, his mouth. He always knew what to do and how to make you feel unexplainable.

He let out a low moan, the vibrations running through you along with the pleasure of him gently sucking on your clit. His tongue lapped against you, your wetness and the water dripping from your body collecting on his tongue. His eyes fluttered closed as he kept moving his mouth against you, wet sounds coming from his lips. Your breathing was uneven and you moaned with every exhale, your body warming up from the feeling of Michael between your thighs.

“M-more,” you whined, grinding down onto his mouth and he surprisingly didn’t hold you back. Your words only set him off more, sinking his tongue into you and his nose pressing against your clit as he buried his face into you. His eyes were closed and you swore that you had never seen him look so blissed out before.

His tongue worked in and out of your entrance, deep moans coming from the back of his throat and you started to feel your stomach twist in those wonderfully warm knots. Your hand that rested in his hair gripped at his roots, a loud moan leaving your lips when you felt him drag his tongue along your folds and his lips wrap around your clit, beginning to suck. You weren’t sure which one of you would be more happy to stay in this shower for the rest of the night, you or him.

Michael only teased your clit for another short moment before pulling away, completely breathless. He looked up at you as you squirmed, whining at the loss of contact when you felt like you were so close. His lips were plump and shining with your wetness, water still dripping from his face. You watched, holding back an obscene moan as he ran his tongue over his top lip. You already craved his mouth between your legs again.

The shower was still spewing out warm water over the both of you, making you sweat from the continuous heat. You tried to guide Michael’s head forward by your grip on his hair but he didn’t budge.

“P-Please,” you practically moaned out. Your orgasm was clawing at you for its release. “I’m so close,” you said, trying to get him to help you.

Your weak voice must’ve been enough for him because he reached between your legs with his free hand, dragging a finger through your folds and teasing your pulsing entrance. You couldn’t help but push into his touch but he withdrew his finger as you did. He slipped his fingertip into his mouth, sucking it clean as if he had dipped his finger into the icing of a cake for a little taste. It nearly drove you over the edge.

“The sweetest girl in the world,” he moaned out, leaning forward and rocking your body back against the tile wall as he buried his mouth into you again. Your fingers gripped his hair tightly, rolling your hips against his mouth as he lapped you up and flicked his tongue over your clit. Your chest quickly rose and fell as you fought for breath, moans falling from your lips every time you rolled your hips against his warm mouth.

Michael must’ve known you were ready from your desperate movements and how you gasped his name because he began to moan against you, his hand gripping your thigh that slung over his shoulder to open you up for him more. The feeling of his moans against your sensitive core triggered the tightness in your stomach, a wave of pleasure coursing through your body and your muscles almost gave out completely, but Michael’s hand that was holding yours moved to your hip, pinning you to the wall. Your loud moans of his name echoed throughout the bathroom, your head against the wall and your back arched.

He kept mouthing at you throughout your high, moaning when you came on his tongue. Although your orgasm seemed to rock through you for a while, you quickly became sensitive to the feeling of Michael’s tongue, letting out a breathless whimper, unable to utter any words. Michael knew you well enough to know what you were trying to communicate, running his tongue over you to get the last taste left and pulled away.

He eased your leg off of his shoulder gently after leaving a few delicate kisses on your thigh, making sure to hold you up by your hips in case you were still weak. Standing up, he eased you from your spot on the wall and you eagerly pressed your lips to his. He hungrily kissed you, resembling what he did between your thighs moments ago. You moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue, pressing yourself against him.

When you both pulled away to catch the breath that you both desperately needed, you reached up and ran your fingers over his plump bottom lip, blushing as you thought about what had just occurred. He pressed a kiss to your fingers, giving you a smirk.

“Feel better now?” he asked, knowing fully well that you felt better than you had in days.

-

michael tags: @dudesorriso @silkyhoneybaby @avesatanaslangdon @moonagecordelia @lucifer-owns-this-pussy @sodanova @romanoffkittens @heelsamizayn @kaigitana

#michael langdon #american horror story #american horror story: apocalypse #ahs: apocalypse #ahs #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #smut #michael langdon imagine

[closetdwellertales]

anna’s hope

I

Anna wanted a baby. 

On the long, cold nights when she fretfully waited for her husband to come home, and on the dawns when he finally came home and she wished he hadn’t, and on the dizzyingly hot days of field work, with insects swarming in her face and on the strips of bare, wet skin, and on the dull winter days when the house was filled with the buzz of her spin and her husband’s silence, she wished for a baby. She wished for it as desperately as a traveler wishes for the smallest shadow on a scorching day. It does not help the thirst, or the heat, or the exhaustion, but at least it helps you forget about the sun for a few minutes.

She was not too ambitious. Her baby did not have a face, or a character, or a dream of hers to grow into. She imagined a bundle of cloth that made meowing, gurgling sounds when she carefully scooped it up and pressed to her breast. It would be simply a soul to take care of - and, hopefully, a soul that would eventually take care of her once she became old and frail. It would be someone to love that would love her back. Her husband’s love was rough and bitter, with the aftertaste of bruises on her ribs.

Anna wanted a baby - ever more desperately as the years passed. Her husband wanted a boy heir, so their desires crossed yet bore no fruit. There must have been a fault with either of them. Anna prayed to every saint she knew and even donated her mother’s silver earrings to Mary the Mother of God, hoping that the gift that adorned the ears of three generations of good earthly women would skew Mary’s judgement in her favor. Those were well-made earrings, after all, bearing the handwork of Anna’s grandfather, and she saw no reason for the Queen of Heaven to scorn them in any way. 

Then her husband died.

Anna was numb with shock. She was left alone. The silence of her house thickened. No one was going to marry an aging, poor woman who was not special in any meaningful way. And above all, her dream of a child - and of a satiated, happy autumn of her life - slipped from her fingers. It was too much of a strike to bear.

On the fifth night after the funeral she found herself getting off her bed and walking towards the river, not thinking of anything. She came all the way to the river bank, grabbed a willow branch and leaned over the edge, staring into the dark water below. Then she came around and jerked back. She lost her balance and fell - thankfully, landing on the ground rather than the cold, rapid river.

She started sobbing. There, loudly, she complained to anyone who could hear her about her hapless life and her simple broken dreams. She begged the entire world for what she knew was no longer possible. She knew that despair was a sin, but she hoped that, even if the Lord or one of His saints were awake to hear her, they would have trouble recognizing her on such a dark, cloudy night. 

When her tears and complaints ran out, Anna stood up, dusted off her skirt as well as she could and walked back home, swaying side to side from the exhaustion.

Two months later she was found to be pregnant. 

II

Anna could barely believe it, and kept wondering and questioning it even when she started feeling bumps from within. People were just as surprised, but most decided to congratulate her on what was by all accounts her husband’s parting gift. No one dared accuse her of anything inappropriate, as no one could even imagine her luring a younger man away from his family or, god forbid, flying on a broomstick to fall into the Devil’s welcoming arms. Every Sunday she could be seen in church, praying and diligently bumping her forehead into the floor every couple of minutes even after her growing belly made the task arduous. She was especially careful when praising Mary, certain that the Mother of God had her hand in the ordeal.

Despite everyone’s unspoken worries, Anna’s frail, aging body did its task well till the end. Even the birth was relatively easy, given everything. She bore a healthy baby girl with steel grey eyes and thin, dark hair. The first time Anna took her daughter to feed her, she nearly dropped her: she was not prepared to the weight of a real human baby in her arms.

She named her Hope.

III

The signs did not start at once, or, if they had, Anna did not notice.

She was too happy, closed off in her small, simple dream. She could not believe it even so, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night and rushing towards the crib to check. Every time, baby Hope was there, and Anna wiped off her brow and loomed above for a few minutes, soaking in the sight of the baby’s chest rising and falling in her sleep. Everything about her child was beautiful: the slowly growing hair, the tiny sharp nails, the plump hands that were curled into soft ball-like fists, the way that Hope frowned and flailed her arms when she wanted to be picked up. She was the sweetest, most precious child ever, according to her mother, and Anna believed herself to be the truest source.

So she did not mind the long stares of her baby’s grey eyes, so unlike her own or her late husband’s, or the way that Hope seemed to listen very closely to people around her, as if understanding everything, her baby face frowning; or how she suddenly found the cross to be in bad taste, wiggling away like a tiny caterpillar from where it hang above her bed. Anna did not mind that her baby did not want to laugh. She did not mind the lack of babble. She did not mind that Hope did not want to walk even when she was supposed to be waddling everywhere on her plump feet. She was nearing two years, but she has not said a word or made a step yet. Anna did not mind. Hope was a late child, after all, making her wait for such a long time. Perhaps she needed some more time again.

But time went, and nothing changed, and Anna found herself wondering.

People talked just like they always do. The general opinion was one of pity: everyone knew how the poor woman wanted a baby, and being dealt such a hand was simply unfair. The rumors spread, but without a proper ground to cherish on, they withered like the sprouts that rose just before a snowstorm. No one could sincerely say that the old Anna had a sin that needed to be punished in such a twisted way. That left a single option.

It happened when Hope was three. She looked like a little doll, pretty but nothing like her mother: her eyes failed to change color, like it happens with the babies, and her hair was as dark as a raven feather. Her skin was pale, and her lips never smiled, and if you looked at her face a little too long you’d feel like something was wrong with it - to anyone but her mother.

She was still silent, sitting in her chair and watching her mother with her steel grey eyes all day. To fill the silence, Anna found herself doing all the talking, asking and replying and explaining everything as she worked her broom. She fell silent when someone knocked, ashamed of herself for a second, and went to check the door. It was her neighbor, a good woman whose husband chopped the wood for Anna the last few years. She caught Anna by the sleeve and started whispering, glancing around as if she was doing something borderline sinful. 

That was when Anna heard the word “changeling” for the first time.

She went back inside, overwhelmed with the knowledge. Her fingers found the broom handle. She started sweeping again. 

The neighbor said to take the broom handle and hit the changeling a few times, as hard as she could. It was hard to say when baby Hope was taken by the faeries, and how they would benefit from a human baby, but everyone knew that faeries did things like that. Perhaps it happened because the pastor was drunk when he baptized her. But now, that baby on the chair was not Anna’s Hope, and she would never speak, or walk, or help her not-mother, and she would never give Anna what she wanted. So it was either the broom, or two eggshells to boil water in. 

Anna looked up and met the not-Hope's steel stare. Her fingers tightened around the handle.

But… she only ever wanted a baby. A child. 

Whoever Hope was, she was a child, the child that Anna watched day and night, the child that she nursed and sang to, the child that was now undoubtedly hers even if people and faeries dared think otherwise.

She was still her Hope. 

Anna’s fingers loosened again, and she smiled to her baby, knowing she won’t see a smile in return. Hope frowned and looked away first - for the first time.

IV

When Hope was five, she talked, and the first thing she asked was “Why?”

Anna startled and blinked, uncertain. Her eyes circled the room before landing on Hope - sitted in her chair, looking so nicely in her dress that Anna meticulously sewed together last month. There was no one else to speak up, but she had long made peace with knowing that she won’t hear a word from her daughter. It was as much of a surprise as when she felt the first tiny bump inside her.

“What, dear?” she asked, putting away her spin.

“Why didn’t you return me?” Hope asked in a singsong voice that flowed and trembled like a summer stream. “You know what I am.”

Anna shivered, feeling the years of talks and pity piled on her frail shoulders. She did not know what to say, so she told the truth: “Yes, I know. You are my child.”

This was not the answer that was wanted, but it was the answer, so Hope nodded and fell silent again.

The next morning, when Anna woke up, there was no more yarn to spin - all her work was done.

V

Hope spoke again only half a year later. 

The swallows took a liking to their yard, nesting under their roof for several years, and Anna had moved her chair so that Hope could see the birds. She was sitting there, staring outside and kicking her legs. Suddenly, she spoke up in a voice that was like the first gust of wind before a thunderstorm:

“Don’t you want your real daughter back?”

The arrow hit the target and pierced it through, lodging itself in the ground. Anna dropped the plate she was holding. 

Hope turned her head and stared at the shards. She spoke again, like the first distant thunder: “Don’t you love her?”

Anna blindly searched behind herself till she felt a chair and dropped into it. She covered her face with her hands. Later, much later, she said weakly: “I do.”

“Why didn’t you return me?” Hope asked again, her steel eyes unblinking.

Anna did not know what to say, so she said the truth: “Because I love you too.”

It was not the answer that was expected, but it was the answer. Hope blinked, frowning, and her silence was worse than the one that reigned in those long winter days when Anna’s husband was still alive.

Minutes came and went, sweeping over the two of them, till Hope said in a whisper that was like the first drops of the summer rain: “I don’t understand human love. I don’t know the love of a mother. I won’t know the love of a child.”

“I love you,” Anna told her again, and she picked her child and pressed her to her chest like she did through all those years. Hope was cold and heavy in her arms. “I am your mother.”

Hope did not press to her, but she did not push her away either, and slowly her heavy head rested on Anna’s shoulder.

From that day, not a single thing ever broke or tore in Anna’s home.

VI

Hope started speaking more. Anna grew used to her voice that glided and thundered, echoed and withered away before it could properly sound. She never spoke to other people, only to her; no one else could hear her, either. Neighbors whispered to one another, rumors dripping with pity: poor old Anna had finally gone mad.

Anna did not ask for secrets, or powers, or water that can bring back the dead, or medicine that helps you see the other world. She did ask, though: simple questions, like the whereabouts of a kitchen knife or Hope’s desires concerning dinner. Maybe that is why Hope answered her. Maybe that is why she started talking at all.

There were different questions, too.

“Is my daughter safe?” Anna asked once, both afraid and eager.

“Yes,” Hope said.

“Is she happy?” Anna asked. “Does she have anyone to look after her?”

Hope did not answer that, her grey eyes as calm as a lake on a cloudy day. 

“She is appreciated,” she said later. “My kind like human children. We get born old, we grow ancient. We don't have a chance to meet children. To be children. She will be liked. She will never get sick, or tired, or hungry, or old.”

“I’m glad,” Anna said, and that was almost truth, because she could not help but wonder how her daughter would look if she ever grew up. She wondered if she would have grey eyes too, and if her hair was the deep color of Hope’s braids. She wondered if her daughter - her other daughter - ever had anyone to love her, there. 

Hope watched her as she always did, and her calm eyes betrayed no thought or feeling.

VII

On the day that Hope turned seven, she told her human mother: “I know how to bring your daughter back.”

Anna gasped, something gripping her heart just like it did when she was young and fresh and she saw her husband for the first time: excitement and fear. “Is it so, my child?”

“Do what I say,” Hope told her, and it sounded enough like a ‘yes’ for Anna to not ask again.

That night, all done the way it needed to be done, her little silver cross left behind with an apologetic prayer, Anna and Hope left home. Anna felt a little bad for mingling with the unholy in a way that bordered on sin, but she comforted herself with the thought that the Mother of God, whom she considered her old friend of sorts by then, would understand her struggles better than anyone and turn a blind eye if needed.

“Don’t ask for anything except what is yours,” Hope instructed her as she was helped over the doorstep for the first time in her life. 

“I wouldn’t,” Anna said. 

Her changeling daughter did not say anything, but squeezed her hand a little harder. That was the right answer, it seems. Anna never asked for more than she could carry.

Hope could not walk, so Anna helped her onto her back and carried her, huffing with effort as the old woman’s back and legs slowly started aching. The girl’s hands rested on Anna’s shoulders, and she pointed the way. Farther, farther from home they went, farther from the village; the forest rose and swallowed them in the darkness. 

The shadows seethed with life. Anna could feel countless eyes on her. Eager. Waiting for something.

“A butterfly grows,” Hope said, in a voice like the first autumn leaf falling. “It changes. First, an egg. Then, a caterpillar. Then, a cocoon.” She shifted. Her small body was so unbearably heavy on Anna's shoulders. “A fairy grows. It changes.”

Anna’s heart soared and sank.

“I could not stay,” Hope whispered. “I need to grow. I need to change. Humans would hurt me.” Then, after a pause, more hesitant than Anna had ever heard: “They would hurt you too. I cannot stay. I could never stay.”

Anna made two dozen steps before she found her voice again, and she said, with all the conviction her tired soul could muster: “I will always love you, Hope.”

And Hope shivered, and then, leaning in, her lips close to Anna’s ear, she whispered something to her mother.

Anna remembered that, even though she could not remember anything else from that night - aside from walking home with a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl that looked just like her and nothing like Hope.

And she also remembered Hope reaching out to her, planting a single kiss on her wrinkled forehead.

She never felt a single tug of pain in her overworked back or legs ever again.

VII

On the night Anna returned from the forest with her daughter in tow, she dreamed of the Mother of God. She stood on a cloud, regal, too blinding to look at properly, but Anna squinted and saw her mother’s earrings sparkling in Mary’s ears. Those were good earrings, worn by three generations of good, working women, and Anna saw no reason for anyone to look down on them.

She baptized her daughter again, just in case. This time, the pastor made sure to not have a lick of liquor for three days in advance and breathed at every person attending so that they could smell and see for themselves. 

Anna decided to name her Patience.

Patience was just a little weird, but anyone would be after spending seven years in fairies’ care, so people made peace with it rather soon. Weird people are not necessarily bad, especially if they can spin yarn better than anyone else in the village, and there is no point in asking if it is a gift from fairies or the God. After all, it was Patience's hands that made it, and her hands were baptized - twice.

Anna loved her, with her entire being, unquestioning and soft. It was nothing like her love to Hope, but it was just as strong. Patience was a good girl, and, luckily enough, she was quite happy growing up - it turned out that fairies appreciate it when you are kind to their own offspring, enough to pay you back in kind.

Anna still went to church on Sundays, and she still was a good old woman who could not be accused of a single sin except for slight naivety, so no one minded that she was a little weird, too - she met fairies too, after all. But she still was careful when she left at night, every now and then, because people like talking about things they cannot understand.

She went to the forest, far from the village, to whisper what the changeling whispered to her once when she was carrying her on her back: the gentlest sound of wind rocking the crib, of a hand running over feathers, of a heart beating - she called her other daughter.

And Hope came to her.

#storytime #fae #changeling #original story

[junkyard-dunky]

Do one about Ty getting his first bj pls

This is a bit different from what I’ve read before with this request? I hope you enjoy

Pairing: Tyler Joseph x reader

Warnings: none really? Very vanilla

——————

“Hey guys only one person at a time” I tell the two girls jumping in the same ally like trampoline. One of them gets off, waiting at the entrance for her turn, while the other continues to jump and throw the basketball in the hoop.

Working at sky zone wasn’t the best job in the world, but it payed well for living in my small apartment. And even though there are kids that I don’t want to deal with, closing time is the best. It’s when my coworkers and I get to calm down and hang out.

One of the perks of working at sky zone is that I get to meet new people, and by that, I mean my coworkers. I usually work night shifts on Wednesday and Friday. Friday’s are my favorite, since I get to see my favorite person.

“Y/n you really need to stop eating popcorn.” Tyler says has I shove the unpopped kernels out of the machine and into the trash can.

“I’m not gonna let perfectly good popcorn go to waste!” I retorted, looking at him over the counter as he wipes down the couple tables across from the snack center.

He chuckles quietly to himself as I walk into the office/break room and out the back door, throwing the last of the trash bags away. I come in to see Tyler sitting at the table in the break room on his phone. He looks up at me once he senses my presence.

“I already counted the drawer, everything’s good.” He tells me. I smile.

“Thanks.”

“No problem”

He goes back to looking at his phone, and I go to gather my jacket which holds my keys.

“Did you see that kid threw up?” He breaks the silence.

“What!? No god that’s disgusting!”

“Haha yeah I know poor Steven had to clean it up. It was everywhere.”

“Aw that sucks. He’s super sweet.”

“Yeah.” Tyler shifts uncomfortably. I sit down across from him and pull out my phone.

“What’s wrong?” He continues to move.

“N-nothing.”

“Ty, I’ve known you since middle school I always know when something’s wrong.”

He looks at me, his pupils blown and his breathing uneven. I soon feel my phone vibrate in my hand.

New text from: Ty✌️

Ty✌️

I know this is random but I’m kinda struggling a bit. If you know what I mean...

You

Elaborate

Ty✌️

I’m hard. It’s stupid and random but I just. There’s this girl that these guys keep sending pictures of in group chat. And I don’t know I just get this way sometimes.

“Well then deal with it. Get with a girl or something. Or just masturbate.”

He looks at me with wide eyes.

“Oh come on Tyler you masturbate.”

“Yeah, I do but I just didn’t need you to tell me to.” He gulps nervously. I stand and gather my things.

“Well I’m gonna head home, you okay closing up?”

“Yeah I’ll be fine.” He nods

“Okay. Have fun with your little... problem.” I smile at him, and turn to leave, until I feel his hand grab my wrist

“Wait! Do you, look I know that you won’t want to but maybe do you think you could help me?”

I look down at him, him sitting in the chair, fully open for me to see the tightness in his pants and now knowing that it is not just a little problem.

“Please.” He mumbles quietly, looking up at me through those long lashes. I walk closer to him and put my things on the table, now standing between his legs. He lets go of my wrist and moves his hands to the sides of my thighs.

“I’ll help you.”

He nods, seemingly eager to get started. I look at his lips, and he looks at mine. I lean and press mine mouth to his, soft and plump and my own. His hands move to behind me knees, and he gently pulls me into his lap.

As our kiss becomes more heated, more breathy, he holds me by the hips and grinds up, causing me to gasp, being able to feel how hard he is, how big he is. I slowly pull away from his lips, his bottom lip between my teeth before I let go.

“Can I, can I suck you off?” I ask nervously.

He looks at me, his mouth agape, not knowing what to say.

“I- I, yeah sure I just, Ive never um,-

“Are you a virgin?” I ask slowly, cautiously.

“I get it if you don’t-

“Ty of course I will. If you want to you. Do you?”

“Yes. Yes please.” He says quietly. I smirk softly and give him a parting kiss before I remove myself from his lap.

I kneel in front of him and gently run my hand over the bulge in his pants. He lets out a loud breath through his nose, and I stop at his button and zipper, asking him silently. He nods. I continue.

I swiftly unbutton his pants and pull down his zipper, pulling the jeans down to his ankles. I look up at him through my lashes as I lean forward and mouth him through his boxers. He gasps as I make him wet with my tongue, his hands flying to my hair, runs his fingers through it.

I move my hands up his thigh to curl my fingers under the waistband. I look at him before continuing, get a nod. I gently pull his confines down to his ankles and release a shakey breath. He is definitely not a little problem. I move my hand to wrap around his base, nestled in short trimmed hair.

I move my hand slowly as I lean forward and take his tip into my mouth, moving the precum around with my tongue. He inhales sharply, hands gently tugging my hair, as I hum around him. I pull off and move my hand to spread the spit and precum over his whole length, trying my best to make him happy.

I look at him and see his head is back a bit but he’s looking at me with dark eyes, his chest moving up and down rapidly. I bite my lip and hold eye contact as I go to take him into my mouth again. I slowly inch by inch take as much as I can, his tip soon hitting the back of my throat.

“Ah fuck y/n.” He groans, so I start to give him what he wants. As soon as I pick up the pace, bobbing my head over his cock, the tip hitting the back of my throat, he becomes very vocal, moaning and grunting, thrusting up involuntarily into my mouth. I hum around him and gently pull his balls, trying to bring him closer to the edge.

“Y/n, fuck I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum down your throat if you don’t stop.”

And I don’t stop. I continue until he releases in white hot stripes on the back of throat and on my tongue, loudly moaning and coming down from his orgasm. I continue to slowly jerk him, trying to milk out every last bit, and I slowly pull off.

I look at him with dark eyes and showcase the cum and spit that has accumulated together in my mouth. I let it slide to the front of my tongue before closing my mouth and swallowing, Tyler staring at me mouth agape the whole time.

He lets out a shakey breath before he releases the grip he had on my hair.

“Thank you.” He mutters. I chuckle and help him slide his boxers and jeans back over his hips.

“You don’t have to thank me.” I say standing up. He stands up as well, and even though that was very vanilla his towering form is very intimidating, especially with him still seemingly turned on.

“Well if there’s ever any way I can let me know.” He leans in and gives me chaste kiss on the lips, then my jaw. I try to control my breathing as his lips graze my ear.

“That may have been my first oral, but I know how to take care of a girl.” He bits my earlobe gently, before he grabs his phone and walks out the back door.

#twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #josh dun #smut #tyler joseph x reader smut #tyler joseph smut