and your aunts and uncles

someone on the TAZ tag wanted to see Taako cooking with his aunt, so here it is

Young Taako and his aunt whom I called Jeremiah in my head though I don’t know why

10

Prognathism is well recorded as a trait of several historical individuals. The most famous case is that of the House of Habsburg, among whom mandibular prognathism was a family trait; indeed, the condition is frequently called “Habsburg Jaw” as a result of its centuries-long association with the family. Among the Habsburgs, the most prominent case of mandibular prognathism is that of Charles II of Spain, who had prognathism so pronounced he could neither speak clearly nor chew as a result of generations of politically motivated inbreeding.

  • 1st house: grandfather
  • 2nd house: dependants
  • 3rd house: siblings, neighbours, teachers, cousins, classmates
  • 4th house: feminine guardians, spirit guides, grandmother
  • 5th house: our children
  • 6th house: aunts, uncles, pets, colleagues, your doctor, tutors
  • 7th house: personal connections and relationships, your astrologer, business partners, open enemies, nieces and nephews
  • 8th house: ancestors, your psychiatrist
  • 9th house: mentors, gurus, friends from overseas, lecturers and professors
  • 10th house: masculine guardians, authority figures, step parents
  • 11th house: social groups, followers, tribe, friends
  • 12th house: secret enemies, forbidden relations, oppressors, destructive influences `
All Our Secrets Laid Bare (Part One)

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Prompt: The reader’s nosy (and quite rude) relatives are coming over for an unexpected family dinner. Long story short, they expect the reader to have a boyfriend, which the reader most definitely does not have. Luckily, they do have a best friend by the name of Peter Parker. One small favor wouldn’t be too much to ask, right?

Warnings: Some angst towards the end.

Word Count: 3,524

A/N: The reader doesn’t know Peter is Spider-Man in this imagine.
Also, I’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors. My usual beta reader wasn’t available and I really wanted to get this imagine posted.
Enjoy!

Part Two / Part Three

Originally posted by hardyness

“You’re my boyfriend now.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Peter stammered back through the phone.

This was not how you planned this day to go.

“It’s a long story. Nosy relatives coming over for dinner, may have lied and said I had a boyfriend just to get them to shut up, don’t actually have a boyfriend, typical family stuff, you know?” you tried to explain.

There was a slight pause as Peter digested all of the information you just threw at him.

“Okay, so basically, you broke under pressure and lied about have a boyfriend, and now you need me to be your boyfriend to protect you from your nosy relatives?” repeated Peter.

You rolled your eyes, perfectly aware that Peter couldn’t see them through the phone call, but positive that he felt the frustration anyway, “I didn’t break under pressure, I just… improvised.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” said Peter, voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “So do you need me to be your boyfriend or not?”

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KAZAKHSTAN 101 OR HOW TO OTABEK

THERE YOU GO YURI ON ICE FANDOM.

Disclaimer: this is in no way a fully comprehensive guide. This is just me trying to put together basics for people who are unfamiliar with Kazakhstan/Kazakhs to start their writing/research.

I am an ethnic Kazakh female, citizen of Kazakhstan, Almaty, bisexual, upper middle class, currently in college in the US. My experience is in no way representative of all kazakhs and Kazakhstan citizens. However, I think it’s pretty close to Otabek’s.

This is really, really long and kinda convoluted, but if you can bear it –– welcome!

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Your grandfather was a fisherman. Your father and aunts and uncles worked the waters and the docks in the coastal town you hail from. It’s not glamorous, and nobody in the family had made it into college before. You grew up in a tidy little house that always smelled a bit of fish with a huge extended family.

Nobody expected the scholarship letter when it arrived, praising your performance in the local high school swim team, and nobody had ever heard of the school. Your parents were thrilled, and so were most of the aunts and uncles. Your grandfather was suspicious, making vague noises that sounded like “tricks and bargains and that kind of business.” What he said out loud was: “Don’t ever leave the sea. It’ll break your heart, girl.”

You were excited and optimistic and exuberant, and you packed your competition suit and a bag of things from home and you went off to college, not listening.

————

Freshman year was odd. You knew you wouldn’t really fit in, given you were a scholarship kid from the back end of the east coast, but it was more than that. You were, of course, on the women’s swim team, but some of the other athletes were … you couldn’t put your finger on it. A couple of the girls seemed too tall, and they never quite got the green from the pool out of their hair. One of the boys was much stockier than the others, a bit like your dad, but he could swim as fast and powerfully as you. He wouldn’t ever speak to you. Some of them were hard to look at, and kept to themselves. Some of them were just ordinary, but they kind of steered clear of you too. It seemed the only thing holding the teams together were the coaches. There were practices, and competitions and your team always did amazingly, but never made it out of state.

Your classes were … classes. Like high school but more interesting. Your managed to keep a decent GPA to hold onto that scholarship, but some of it was a chore. Sandy the RA gave you a list of rules and warned you about some of the other students. There was some superstition about, but given your heritage, none of that seemed off. Fishermen are superstitious folks.

Your roommate was snooty and complained constantly that you still smelled of fish, especially after winter break. You finally told her to go suck a clam and she stopped speaking to you. That was fine with you. You weren’t much for socializing with people who didn’t know the ocean.

That one guy, though, the one who asked you out after the first week of Comp 102 in January. That one, he was great. He was some kind of surfer kid from California. Not a college athlete, but Surfer Boy skated everywhere, talked constantly about the beaches and waves. Somehow tan even in winter.

The third week you were dating, he got you that steel ring for “safety” and you thought it was sweet. It said “always yours” on the inside and got stuck on your finger.

And then - your swimming performance dropped off. They threatened to bench you. There was an uncomfortable conference with the coach and the dean. The rest of the team avoided you even more, and Surfer Boy got … weird. Possessive. Mean.

He thought it was fine that you weren’t competing for a while. He could have you all to himself outside of class time. Isn’t that great? Maybe you could come to California with him for Spring Break. You didn’t want to, though. You wanted to go back to the cold water of home.

Then, about a week after you got benched, out of the blue while you were studying together, he asked you where your skin was. You had no idea what he meant, WTF was this serial killer shit he was asking you? You suddenly remembered Sandy’s warnings, and took off without your books to ask her for help, maybe how to get a restraining order? And maybe to help get this ring off, too.

Sandy the RA (short for Cassandra? Because nobody ever listened to her, not because it was her name) halfway listened to you, nodded tiredly, grabbed a form from a file for submitting to the dean of students and campus security and had you fill it out. Then, as you were both reading the forms over for errors, she looked up sharply, said, “Wait. A ring? Let me see that.”

Sandy took one look at it, got out a saw, and before you could even react, cut it off your finger, in two pieces. One piece said “always” the other said “yours” and she shook her head. “I thought I told you to never accept gifts?”

“But he’s just human, Sandy. Normal, even. More normal than I am.”

“Yeah, nobody ever listens to me.”

Under where the ring had sat for two of the worst weeks of your life, was fur. Sleek, short, dark fur. You yelped.

Sandy blinked slowly, somehow looking completely unsurprised, and said, “That stocky guy on the men’s swim team? The one they call Lion? GO. Talk to him. Show him your hand, he’ll talk to you now. I think he can help.”

As you left, she said, with her back turned, “I don’t think your grandfather was completely honest with you. Have you ever seen any photos of your grandmother? Do you know where she was from?”

(X)

Break a Little - Part One

Summary: You’re an Alpha Female, and that means your entire life you’ve been an outcast, an abomination. It’s been so long you don’t remember what it is like not to feel raw, angry and hurt. You’re aggressive, a little wild, and don’t play well with others. So when your only friend’s brother Dean calls and says Sam is missing, you are hesitant to work with him. After all, you have always been alone.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Characters: Alpha!Reader, Beta!Sam, ??!Dean

Pairings: Alpha!Reader x ??!Dean

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: language, fighting, self hate, a/b/o dynamics, no smut yet but there will be some eventually ;)

A/N: This is my first A/B/O fic and I would like it to be a small series. 

You sit at the bar, consumed in your own little world. The whiskey you sip on is just fuel, fuel for how much you hate everything, hate what you are, who you are, how you hate the world around you.

It’s after a hunt, and just like every single damn time the violence has you on edge, running on adrenaline and nothing can fix it, nothing ever will. But the hunts themselves are good for you, they help focus that rage that is always there.

“Hey gorgeous,” some asshole sits beside you, and you wind him first, a fucking alpha.

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Lock and Key (M)

*I am so tired*

Requests: Anon asked “Can you make like a dirty y/n imagine of Jimin please??” + @bangtanofarmys asked “ FUCK FUCK FUCK OMG FINALLY SOMEONE’S REQUEST IS OPEN. Ok I want to request a rough Jimin smut, with daddy kink and stuff BECAUSE IM SO TIRED OF BEING REQUESTED AND NOT REQUEST T-T “ you’re so cute wtf 

Word Count: 10.8k bc I don’t know when to stop


Another mundane day has come to pass, your best friend’s arm slung over your shoulders as you soak up the blinding sunrays on your skin. The sun pressed harsh kisses on your delicate skin, a definite burn accompanied by heavy sweating was just the peak of your day. You could barely remember the words of your professor, zoned out and ready to slump into your couch for two days.

Anthropology was fun when you still had your first year jitters, excited to be in university and getting a degree in something you loved. Now, a few weeks into your second year, you wished the years would just pass by.

Distracted by your internal monologue, you barely caught the bus on time, the driver ready to zoom through traffic and you waved your hand out wildly to catch his attention. You stumbled into a seat, the bus moving no less than a second after you got on.

Mindlessly watching the street signs while numerous people leaving and entering the bus, you get off at the stop near your house. You kick off your shoes, dropping your bag on the shoe rack and you heard a broken sob.

“Mom? Dad?” You went into the kitchen, followed by a set of sniffling before going into the living room. Your father held your mother in a consoling way, her hands clinging onto his red sweater. She grabbed a tissue and blew into it.

“Mom? Why are you crying? What happened?”

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Thanksgiving (Tom Holland Smut)

Originally posted by darlingriezmann

request: “could u do a tom imagine where hes dating the reader and shes bi ? and when he first found out, he was like intimidated but then he finds it like sexy lol make him react how u think he would” (requested by anon)

short summary: you take tom home for thanksgiving and when the topic of past relationships comes up things get a bit :/

length: 3.9k words

warnings: tbh the smut’s just like at the end there’s lots of plot stuff and shit so

A/N: i lowkey didn’t know how to go about this, bc i didn’t want to write something that would come across as tom fetishizing the reader’s bisexuality bc i’m bi and i hate when i read stuff like that so anyway this was the result, idk if this is the direction u wanted but uh here we go


Your mom & sister had been hounding you for almost two months to come home and also bring your boyfriend so they could properly meet him for the first time. It’s not as if you didn’t want them to meet Tom, it’s just that he’s been busy and frankly so had you. And when the two of your schedules aligned with a break, dragging him back to your hometown wasn’t exactly your top priority.

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High-Waisted, Short-Tempered - h.s.

My friend went to a disaster of a family reunion and my other friend went to a concert and wore uncomfortable shorts to look nice and for some reason those two things got stuck in my head during my flight and so therefore I wrote a blurb about it while I have time and I think this is probably how my writing will go on from now on instead of seven part series so yay here we go! 

—–

—–

You hadn’t talked for almost an hour, and though many would have figured you were asleep, Harry knew better than to think so. He’d been working with you for almost two years now and that meant spending every single day with you 365 days give or take a couple. And he could tell when you were really sleeping … because it was absolutely adorable.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked to come with you. He knew that even though you were in good standings with your grandparents, it was the cousins that always got you agitated. But he couldn’t help himself when you’d talked about the initiation to the family reunion and how your older cousin now married, Tiff, had told you to, “Bring a friend!”

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Summary: Sansa is sent as an emissary instead of Jon to meet with the Dragon Queen [Season 7 Spoilers - some of the dialogue is word for word from the script]

Dedicated to the lovely @qinaliel for the prompt!! 


“Then send an emissary!”

Jon paused, turned towards her and sighed. In the few short months since they’d been reunited, Sansa had come to learn his sigh’s and this one said that she had won. He was finally beginning to listen to her.

“Sansa,” he said slowly, coming to stand before her. They had been arguing in his solar for most of the afternoon. “Who will I send? You?”

Without hesitation, she nodded. “Yes.” She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, not after everything they’d done to get it back, but for Jon? For their home? She would face down Cersei if she had to. What was a Dragon Queen to that woman?

Immediately, Jon shook his head, stepping closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “No. No. I will not send you. She is a queen, only a king can get through to her.”

“You are more needed here than I am,” Sansa said. She reached for his wrist, circling her fingers delicately around it. “Jon, let me do this for you. I know women like her. And I am not merely anybody you’re sending. I am the Lady of Winterfell. She will listen to me.”

He twisted his hand from her grasp only to retrieve it back in his own. “I can’t protect you in the south.”

“No one can protect me anywhere,” she reminded him. “I will have Brienne with me. And Podrick. I will not be alone.”

Jon furrowed his brows. They both knew there was sense in her words, but she could see the struggle, the conflict warring in his mind. He was so noble, always so honourable, and it made her heart ache for him, fear and love mingling like the warmth of her breath fogging in the cold winter air.

He turned away from her, dropping down in his chair. Jon rubbed his face. “How can I plan a war when all I’ll be doing is worrying about you?”

Sansa let out a soft breath, a half-hearted laugh, as she came to kneel before him. “If it is any comfort to you, at least I will be far away from Littlefinger.”

His head snapped up at that and a small rueful smile broke over his face. “You heard then?”

“There is not much that happens in Winterfell that I don’t hear, Jon Snow,” Sansa grinned. “Although if you must wring Littlefinger’s neck, try not to do it in full view of the guards. You know they like to talk.”

He laughed. “I appreciate your counsel, my lady.”

Sansa made to stand up, but this time, Jon wrapped his hand around her wrist, the hard callouses grazing over her soft skin. It made her heartbeat spike unbiddenly. “You will be careful, won’t you? You will go, say our peace and come home?”

“I don’t want to be away from Winterfell more than I need to,” Sansa answered him, keeping his gaze, so he knew the words she didn’t wish to say out loud, that it was him she didn’t want to part with most.

Jon nodded once and let go. “Get some sleep, Sansa.”

That night, she tossed and turned, dreams of Winterfell lit on fire, blazing orange and red against the blinding white of winter. She dreamed of dragons screeching overhead as her people screamed for mercy, for reprieve from this slaughter, and then, just as she could feel the flames licking her own skin, she heard the keening howl of a wolf, as big as a mountain.

Jon, she whispered, reaching for him. Jon

Sansa woke with a start, sweat matting her hair to her forehead. She was warm, so much warmer than she had been in the night, but when she turned, she found the reason for the heat. Ghost lifted his head, blinked at her, something like concern shining in his eyes. She carded her fingers through his fur and pressed a soft kiss to his head. “You came to save me, didn’t you, boy?” His tongue lolled out from his mouth and Sansa laughed. “My hero.”

It was the day she would leave Winterfell. Sansa never thought that she would have to again after winning it back from Ramsay, but soon when the winds burned like fire and the sun refused to shine, her people, her Jon, would have to pick up their swords and fight, and Sansa needed to ensure they survived the Long Night. If this Dragon Queen could be reasoned with, then she would go and speak to her. Never mind that a Targaryen could never be trusted; never mind that this woman had stolen into their lands with a foreign army and three dragons. Sansa could understand the necessity of her alliance – although the feeling of trepidation did not ease, not when she broke fast sitting beside Jon as he watched her carefully and not when she sat with her maids to pack her belongings.

“I thought I would find you here.”

She didn’t turn, only wrapped her arms tighter around her body. He came up behind her. She could hear the crunching of his boots on the soft powdered ground.

“You don’t have to go.”

Sansa made a noise and he sighed in response.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he amended instead, his voice low, barely audible above the whistling wind. “Some days I think…” Jon paused and gave a soft chuckle. “I think, what if we had just run? Gone south and never looked back.”

“This is our home,” she murmured to him.

“Aye, and I will fight with my last breath for it,” he said firmly. “But maybe it keeps me sane to imagine what our lives would be like if we had run.”

Sansa turned then, eyes sweeping over his face. “And?”

“We would have a house,” Jon answered immediately. “Maybe by the sea.” He averted his gaze, staring up at the heart tree. “We’d be safe.”

She reached for his hand. “I’ll come home.”

“Promise me,” he said softly, squeezing her back.

“I promise, Jon.”

But promises were meant to be broken and Sansa would soon realise that the Dragon Queen would not be so easy to persuade.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains,” the woman spoke.

Sansa refrained from grimacing. She had met another once who liked to shout his titles at anyone who would listen and he had been a monster. She desperately hoped this Daenerys was different.

“This is Sansa Stark of House Stark, eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, blood of the First Men, Lady of Winterfell and Sister to the King in the North, Jon Snow,” Brienne immediately replied, standing tall and proud, Podrick a step behind her.

“Forgive me. I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torren Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the northmen. Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?” Daenerys asked, poison hidden in her polite words, but Sansa had lived with lions. A dragon did not scare her.

“No, your grace,” Sansa answered, keeping her tone equally as polite. “You are well-versed in your history, but mayhaps you have forgotten that House Targaryen was overthrown during Robert’s Rebellion when your brother kidnapped my aunt and your father had my uncle and grandfather burned alive.” She paused to let this sink in. “House Stark has not been loyal to a Targaryen in many years.”

Daenerys’ lips twitched as her brows furrowed infinitesimally. “My father was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the kingdom’s ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Sansa Stark. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name your king Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

She couldn’t help think that peace was the farthest thing this woman wanted. A Targaryen’s house words were not ‘fire and blood’ for nothing, but she could hear Jon’s voice in her mind, reminding her of how important it was to ally with the Dragon Queen.

“I cannot judge you for your father’s crimes any more than you can hold me to my ancestor’s vows,” Sansa told her. “The North will not bend the knee, your grace.”

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys demanded, the politeness fading from her tone.

“Because we need each other,” she said easily. “To survive, House Stark and House Targaryen must form an alliance.”

The Dragon Queen turned, smirking at Tyrion. When Daenerys finally returned her gaze back onto Sansa, she caught her former husband’s apologetic glance. So it would seem even the Hand of the Queen was aware of her arrogance, but it was hardly surprising to Sansa. Those with power tended to believe they deserved it. The only king or queen Sansa had ever met who wished for less power was the one she had left behind, the one of whom she missed so achingly she would turn around right this moment and swim back to him if the survival of her people didn’t rest in her hands. With an inward sigh, Sansa steeled herself as the Dragon Queen spoke once more.

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?”

“I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?”

“Yes, your grace.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“But still, I need your help?” Daenerys asked, looking amused and patronising, but Sansa had learned to weather all manners of insult, those personal and evasive, and those from arrogant rulers.

“Yes,” Sansa answered simply. “My…” she paused for a fraction of a second, “king has seen unspeakable horrors beyond the Wall and there is an army marching towards us at this very moment. If we do not band together, there will not be a kingdom for anyone to rule.”

“And what is this army you speak of?”

She sighed. It was impossible to imagine the kind of army that Jon spoke so fearfully of and yet she knew his words to be true. It didn’t, however, make convincing Daenerys Stormborn any easier. “The Army of the Dead.” Sansa straightened her shoulders. “I know how it may sound, but my king is no liar. If he says they are coming then it is true.”

“I have no reason to believe in a man who wishes to oppose me –”

“Jon does not wish to oppose you,” Sansa interjected. “He does not wish to sit on the Iron Throne, not now, not ever. Your grace, you are not grasping the severity of the situation. Cersei is a formidable foe, but the Dead will kill us all if we don’t work together.”

Daenerys let out a scoff. “You will have me place my trust in a man I have never met?”

“Do you trust your Hand?” Sansa asked, looking to Tyrion. “Because he will tell you that neither Jon nor I have any reason to lie to you. Nothing good comes from a Stark leaving the North, but I am here because it is necessary.”

Tyrion sighed. “Your grace, I trust Lady Sansa and I trust Jon Snow. They are honourable people.”

There’s a long pause that fills the room, so tangible Sansa could feel it crowding her, pushing up against the cloak she still wore. Daenerys stood up and began to descend down the stairs, eyes unwaveringly locked onto Sansa’s, but she refused to be intimidated by a woman not much older than her.

“I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert’s assassins could find us. Robert was your father’s best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don’t remember all of their names. I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled,” she said, the emotions making her voice rise. It was the first time since they had arrived that Sansa saw something more than just pure arrogance. She saw defiance and strength, but if Daenerys thought she was the only woman to have ever been violated, she was mistaken. Cersei was defiant and she was strong, but she was as bad as the men who underestimated her, if not worse. Sansa won’t be swayed so easily by sad stories; she’s had her fair share.

“Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?” The Dragon Queen paused, only a few feet away from Sansa now. “Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn’t crossed the sea. Any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will.”

Brienne shifted behind her, but Sansa was not here to trade trauma for trauma. Her pain was her own and no one else’s, not even Jon knew the full extent of what she had gone through. She didn’t need to sink so low for this alliance, but she did need to get through to Daenerys somehow.

“The world is not a kind place for any woman,” Sansa said slowly, evenly, while observing the queen for a reaction. “For many men, we are no more than a womb for their seed to grow and that is if we’re lucky. But this war cares not if you are a man or a woman, Daenerys Stormborn. It will devour us all if we don’t act.”

“My lady,” Tyrion spoke up, his eyes were soft, kind and pleading. “I understand your brother may believe that he saw something beyond the Wall –”

“He did,” she reaffirmed.

“Yes, but you cannot expect us to halt hostilities and join him in fighting in the North,” he continued. “If Jon bends the knee, swears fealty to Daenerys, then we can defeat Cersei and take up arms together in your war.” Tyrion moved forward. “Sansa, you know what my sister is capable of. You know you will never be safe while she’s on the throne.”

“With respect, my lord,” Sansa said through gritted teeth. “I do not need reminding of what Cersei is capable of. As you said, I know far too well, but I also know when there is a far greater threat and that is the one in the North. You may believe me or you may not, but the Long Night is coming. Winter is here.”

“Then bend the knee,” Daenerys demanded once more. “Do it now and we can cease with this squabbling.”

“The North has suffered too long under southron rulers. We will not bend the knee,” she said confidently. “Jon will not bend the knee. The people have put their trust in his hands and he will lead them for as long as he can.”

“That’s fair. It’s also fair to point out that I’m the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring himself King of the northern most kingdom, House Stark is in open rebellion,” she concluded, eyes narrowed.

That night, she dreamed of fire, bright and orange, flickering up the walls of Winterfell as screams pierced through the air. She could feel the heat on her skin and she wanted it to stop. She tried to remove her cloak but the heat persisted. Sansa opened her mouth to scream, to beg for mercy, for anything that could stop the pain running through her, but her voice would not work.

The thundering flap of wings had Sansa peering up into the ashen sky. There amidst the clouds, she saw two of the most fearsome creatures circling her home. Fire rained from their mouths, turning stone walls to pebbles and people to nothing more than dust. When Sansa could feel the skin peeling away from her bones, she felt it, looming great and big over her, its shadow turning day into night. Sansa moved, whirling around to face it, and immediately, she was struck, jaw gaping open, as she stared into the grey eyes of a pure white dragon. It looked back, sentient like it knew her, and flapped its large wings. The gust of air cooled the fire away and soothed the pain running through her body.

Sansa dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Just kill me,” she whispered. “Kill me.” It bent its neck towards her like it was bowing, eyes cast down. Confused, Sansa shouted at it, angry and hysterical, “what do you want from me!”

Before it could respond, Sansa woke with a start, her chest pounding loudly in her ears, and the overwhelming feeling that washed through her was that she missed Jon. It was not the first time since arriving at Dragonstone that she thought this, but now knowing that Daenerys was holding them prisoner on this godsforsaken island, she missed him all the more. The thought of never seeing him again made her ache down to her very bones. She had to find a way back to him; she refused to let that moment at the gate be their last moment together.

“I should be going,” Jon said, touching a hand to her cheek. “It is not too late to change your mind.”

Sansa leaned into his touch, uncaring that Brienne, Podrick and Ser Davos were only a few feet away. “We cannot have this argument again, Jon. You’re king. The people need you here.”

“You would do just as well leading them,” he countered, thumb stroking the curve of her cheekbone. “I may be king, but you’re their lady. They love you. They trust you just as well as they trust me.”

“It’s better this way,” Sansa said with a small smile. “Smarter.”

Jon sighed. “I will not convince you otherwise, will I?”

“Have you ever?”

“No,” he said, chuckling softly. He kept his gaze on her, lingering, and drawing out the silence before he finally spoke again. “Be safe.” Without another word, Jon leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead, so familiar yet so different, as when he parted, he dropped his forehead to hers, allowing their breaths to swirl in between them. “I’ll miss you, Sansa.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She ran her hands up his chest to grip onto his furs. “I’ll miss you too.”

Sansa wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she stared out unseeingly towards the horizon. The wind blew gently, tossing her hair away from her face and neck, leaving a cool breeze to ease the heat of the south. The sound of footsteps announced his arrival.

“I came out here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack, but I can hardly do that in the presence of my lady wife,” Tyrion said, that teasing lilt to his voice.

“I have been a prisoner many times, Lord Tyrion,” Sansa said coolly. “I have been kept against my will at the hands of your family, forced to swear my loyalty to the people who murdered my father, brother and mother. I have been kept and sold by Littlefinger to the Boltons where I was imprisoned in my own home.” Her chest rose up and down rapidly. “But I will not be a prisoner to your queen. Jon is my king and I will make it home to him.”

“Lady Sansa, you are not a prisoner. You are free to roam the beaches and –”

“Do not trifle with me, my lord,” Sansa turned to look at him. “Or have you forgotten how long I spent under your sister’s tutelage?” She pursed her lips tightly. “Your queen does not believe me. It is fair. I hardly believed Jon when he first told me and every rational thought in my mind is saying to look to Cersei. She is our biggest threat, but you don’t know Jon the way I do. Not as he is now.” She returned her gaze to the sea, imagining the man in question and what he must be doing in this moment. “He is a great king, a greater man than you and I ever thought possible in these hellish times, and if he says the Dead are coming, I suggest you heed his warning and act accordingly.”

“My lady, it is not a question of belief,” Tyrion said. “Daenerys could have sailed for Westeros long ago but she didn’t. Instead she stayed where she was and saved many people from horrible fates, some of whom are on this island with us right now. While you’re our guest here you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad King’s daughter. She protects people from monsters, just as you do. That’s why she came here. And she’s not about to head north to fight an enemy she’s never seen on a word of a man she doesn’t know after a single meeting. That’s not a reasonable thing to ask.”

Sansa smiled, though it was derived of humour. “You will forgive me if my faith in rulers who believe themselves entitled to a throne is lacking, Lord Tyrion. But I appreciate your advice and will consider your counsel with great thought. May I suggest you listen to mine as well?”

Feeling all at once exhausted and weary of this conversation, Sansa moved past her former husband and went in search of a quill and parchment. If she could not see Jon, she could write him. He’d need to know that Sansa wouldn’t be coming home for awhile yet, and that as long as she was alive, she’d find a way, not just to return to him but to convince the Dragon Queen to help one way or another. He had tasked her with an important mission and Sansa would not fail him.

elegantly wasted | baekhyun

 ”Who are you, what are you doing in my loft and why are you only wearing a fucking towel?!”

admin: s. genre: angst, fluff, smut (in later parts), age gap (cus I love this shit), kinda daddyish, ceo! baekhyun au   

pt. 2, pt. 3

Originally posted by baekhyunsama

You could say your life situation right now was more than depressing. Not long ago, you turned 24 and finished your studies. Now, being a social sciences absolvent with a Bachelor of Arts, you were also jobless, broke and bored everyday.   

Since your were also still living in the apartment you lived in for the past 24 years, you literally had nothing to do everyday except for cooking, cleaning and washing the laundry sometimes.  

Your mum was a cleaning lady for a richass CEO you knew nothing about, and except for the two of you there was no one around.  

So, being alone almost everyday until six or seven in the evening, you just lied on the couch of your living room in your underwear watching TV and this was exactly what your were doing now.



It was already eight in the evening and your mum was running a hour late. It was unusual but you weren’t worried. It could happen. You were watching one of your favourite children shows when you heard keys jiggling.  

Jumping up and stretching your neck so you could see in the hall to the door from your current position on the couch, you saw your mum entering the apartment looking more than only exhausting.  

You immediately rushed to her taking the groceries from her she must have bought on the way home. Setting them down on the kitchen island you prepared a glass of water with a pill against headaches for her. “Take that, mum.” 

Your mum took the glass from you and smiled, gulping down the water with the pill. “Thank you sweetie. Sorry by the way that I’m late. Your aunt had a problem, so I had to help her.” 

Upon hearing that you got keen of hearing. Your aunt and uncle were in the middle of a bad divorce and your uncle decided it was a good idea to move to Busan. So your aunt had to make little trips to the coast visiting her still husband only so she could finally get divorced. Your mothers part was to stay at her only sisters side and travel with her and that meant you had the whole apartment for you for probably almost one week.  

Trying to hide your smile you came to her side. “That probably means you have to travel with Auntie Jihye to Busan, right?”  

Your mum sighed and nodded, placing the empty glass in the sink. “Yes but don’t be too happy too soon, miss. While I’m gone you have to clean Mr. Byuns Loft. His Loft still has to be clean even when I’m not here and you’re not that bad at cleaning. Also, you’re broke and need a job. Even if it’s only for a short period you can have the money you make while I’m gone.”

You groaned and tried to convince your mum why you couldn’t clean her boss loft while her absence. “Mum that’s illegal. I can’t clean his loft while you’re gone.” Hoping your mother would trust you, you slowly tried to go into your room but your mum thought otherwise.   

“Y/N, Mr. Byun is a very nice young man from the few times I talked to him on the phone. I never saw him in person, he never enters his loft while I’m cleaning because he’s busy working. He won’t even know you cleaned his loft for one week instead of me. You’re broke and need money, you know I can’t come up for all of your expenses. So don’t be such a lazy person and clean his loft!”  The Voice of your mum got stronger and firmer towards the end of her speech and you exactly knew you had no choice other than to clean your mums boss loft.  

Sighing you gave her a sign meaning you’d do it for her. Your mum just smiled. “I’ll write you a list of the things you have to know while you’re cleaning. Also you have to wash his clothes if there are and if he leaves a note on the fridge it means he wants something to eat when he comes home. Also - I’m just going to write you a list, okay sweetie?”  

Nodding and obviously rolling your eyes you finally entered your room. You threw yourself on your bed closing your eyes.  

When your mum was gone it actually always meant for you, you could relax, sleep longer than usual and eat as much takeout food as you wished for but now you had to do her job.  

Sitting up you took your laptop opening google and typing in the name of Mr. Byuns Company. It was one of the few things you knew about him. This and that he was 35 and richer than you and your mum would ever be.  

You clicked on the official website of the Byun Enterprises - the name of Mr. Byuns Company - and scrolled threw the employee section, the section where all the Partner companies were listed and finally the section with the bosses profile.

The section had a large picture of Mr. Byun on the top. His name, age and works below it. You stared at his picture way longer than you preferred.   

He was handsome. No, he was fucking hot. His brown slightly strawberry red hair was slightly curled and parted in the middle showing a little bit of his forehead. His eye color was also brown and his stare was boring into your soul. His pinkish lips were formed into a light smirk. You licked your own lips and wandered with your eyes further down the picture.  

It was only a picture displaying his upper body but it was enough for you. He wore a wine red, black button up shirt which was only buttoned till the middle of his chest. The rest was unbuttoned so you could see a bit of his strong toned chest. Over the shirt he had a dark grey, blackish suit jacket which was open but with a black belt held together on his waist. Around his neck there were two silver chains hanging low on his chest.  

Your heart was thumping, your underwear slightly stained and you felt a headache creeping up. You never knew your mum worked for such a good looking person.  

Scrolling down more you read what was standing under his picture - Byun Baekhuyn, 35 years old, hard working and caring. Head of the Byun Enterprises…  

Suddenly you heard a knock on your door and you quickly closed the tab with the website, followed by your laptop. Placing it to where it was before you stood up and opened the door for your mum.  

“Here’s the list with all the things you have to know while being in Mr. Byuns Loft. I also wrote down the address and the code for the door lock. Mr. Byuns Loft is in one of the tallest buildings in Seoul. When you enter it you have to pass a reception but don’t worry I already told the lady working there that you are coming instead of me.” Passing you the list she pointed out the address and the code for the door lock.  

Quickly reading all the points you choked. Mr. Byun was way too demanding what things regarding cleaning his loft, washing his clothes and cooking his food prosecuted.  

“Mum that’s too much! How am I supposed to do all of this everyday for one week? I’m going to die!” Protesting you read the list again. Mr. Byun had even a special way his clothes had to be washed or that he wants his potatoes mashed and not cut. What kind of guy was he?  

Your mum chuckled and patted your head. “That’s the life of a working person, darling. Either this or having no money. It’s not even that bad you just have to get used to it then it’s kinda fun.”  

Not believing your mum one word you just sighed and closed the door after your mum had left. Putting the list on your nightstand you sat down on your bed ones again. This was going to be an awful week.



Today was your first day as Mr. Byuns cleaning Lady - only for one week of course. You had woken up extra early today. Your mum had left last evening and even until she and your aunt finally drove away, your mum had remembered you countless times to do exactly what stood on the list.  

Already being ready to go, you sat at the kitchen table and sipped from your coffee. It was half past seven and you had to be at Mr. Byuns Loft at eight. You still didn’t know what you should clean in ten hours but your mum said you definitely needed the time. There was no way this could be fun.  

The drive with the subway to the building Mr. Byun lived in was as terrible as this day would going to be. The subway was filled with rude people pushing and pressing each other. When you were still in University you had lived there, so you didn’t have to take the subway every morning and you were glad you did so.  

After you had finally arrived you stood infront of the building before entering it. It was really high and Mr. Byuns Loft was in one of the highest floors. Usually you weren’t afraid of heights but you had also never visited a building as tall as this, so maybe this would change.  

Passing the reception the lady behind the counter smiled at you. Like your mother had said she already told her you would come instead of her for one week.  

You looked around and saw security men almost at every entrance - even infront of the elevator. Being a little bit shy you quickly passed them and entered the elevator.  

Breathing out after the door had closed you pressed the number of the floor Mr. Byuns Loft was located at. It wasn’t the last floor but still one of the highest.  

The doors of the elevator opened after your ride to the top. At the wall had been a window so you could look outside while riding up and the way the streets, cars and people got so small so fast made you anxious.  

You walked outside and towards the door to Mr. Byuns Loft. Luckily his loft was the only apartment in this floor besides one public bathroom. The building was very large what meant if Mr. Byuns Loft was the only apartment on this floor, the size of it had to be enormous.  

Typing in the code for the door lock the door opened and you entered his loft. The smell of a mixture of men Parfum and soap engulfed the apartment.  

Directly after entering the apartment you were in an open big ass living room. One wall was completely made out of glass what gave away an incredible view over the skyline of Seoul. All in all the apartment was furnished very nicely and thoughtful. Everything was held in black, white and grayish colors.  

Placing your bag at the kitchen counter, you took out at the list your mum had given you before and read the first point - washing his clothes.  

You sighed and made a fist cheering you on. It was not the first time you had to wash clothes and your mum gave you such a detailed description of how to wash his clothes, you were sure you could do it.  

In the extra room were all the washing machines were you took the basket for his clothes and started walking towards his bedroom. You were glad his apartment was not one of these confusing ones, so you found every room pretty quickly.  

Entering his bedroom you gasped. It was immense and beautiful. The colors were still the same but it looked super classy and chic. His bed was of course a king sized bed made of black wood. Above it was a large painting. He even had again one wall full of glass with a connected balcony to it.  

Still having big eyes and being full of jealousy you started picking up his clothes from his bed. Your mum told you Mr. Byun always left the clothes he wanted to be washed on his bed, so you didn’t have to search for them. You didn’t know if it was a nice gesture or if he just didn’t want someone to search through his things.



Half of the day was already over. It was now four in the afternoon and you had already washed his clothes, cleaned every room except for the bathroom connected to his bedroom and you even cooked him some ricecakes.  

You were exhausted and sweaty. The thought that this was only day one of seven almost made you throw up.  

Lazily walking in his bedroom you entered his connected bathroom. It was obviously again super big and had everything in it. A bathing tube, two sinks, an enormous mirror and… a fucking rainfall shower.  

You had lost your breath. Since you were a teenager it was one of your dreams to at least shower one time in a rainfall shower.  

Starring at it for good two minutes you hesitated if you should try it out or not. I mean, you still had two hours until you had to go and according to your mother Mr. Byun never comes home early. Also your were sweaty and exhausted. You deserved this.  

You decided to first clean the bathroom except for the shower and then shortly hop in just to rinse your body a little bit. Your body needed and deserved some relaxation.  

Shortly after you had cleaned the bathroom, you stripped your clothes, laying them outside the bathroom on Mr. Byuns bed.  

Opening the shower door, you quickly turned on the water and let it fall on your body. The feeling was amazing. You stood there for almost five minutes just letting the water soak your body until you found more options you could use while showering. You played a little bit with the regulator of the shower and you didn’t even realized one full hours passed by.  

Already feeling how your skin started to wrinkle from the water you exited the shower and put a towel around your body. The towel was not really large but it was enough to cover what needed to be covered.  

You walked out the bathroom and then his bedroom. You wanted your body to dry a little bit before you put on your clothes again and you saw a sound system in his living room, you still had one hour left, some music wouldn’t kill anyone.  

Switching on the sound system, the sound almost made your ears burst but after some time you got used to the clear and loud music and you started to jump around.  

Mr. Byuns living Room had the perfect size to dance along the music that was playing from the sound system.  

You were in the middle of having fun while Mr. Byun Baekhyun was currently standing outside of the door to his loft and heard the music from his sound system blasting through the corridors.  

Hesitating if he should call the security or handle it himself he decided to first observe the situation himself. Maybe Mrs. Y/L/N wanted to listen to some music while cleaning his loft.  

Typing in the code the door opened and he entered the loft. The situation what he found infront of him was definitely not what he expected to see.  

A stranger more specific a girl was running and jumping around in his living room only wearing a towel that merely covered her buttcheeks and womanhood.

Gulping he just stood there observing the situation a little bit more until he had found his composure again and walked to the sound system, still unnoticed by you and switched it off, angrily.   

Your Head immediately turned to the sound system in shock. Your head turning into a red mess the second you saw Mr. Byun standing there with a bewildered and angry look on his face.  

“Who are you, what are you doing in my loft and why are you only wearing a fucking towel?!” He asked with a intimidating loud and annoyed voice.  

In this exact moment you had died internally.  


So guys this is the first part of a new story I will be writing here on tumblr and this time it’s a baekhyun story! Also can you guys all guess which baekhyun era he is displayed as here? For all the people who can’t seem to guess it (*cough* admin a. *cough*) it’s lotto era cus lotto era was daddy era in my opinion lmao and it’s my favourite baekhyun era.    

By the way im still on vacation so don’t think the second part will be uploaded anytime soon since I’m writing and editing this on my phone and doing this is shit. Anyway, love you guys~  

- admin s. 🌞  

title credits: admin a. 💖

Okay, muggleborn headcannons are adorable. But can we take a moment to appreciate their poor parents?

  • Desperately trying to find a book about how to raise your kid who is all of a sudden a witch/wizard.
  • Trying to explain to the neighbors why your kid suddenly has an owl/toad for a pet and spends an excessive amount of time polishing that ancient broom out on the back porch.
  • Debating if it’s better to try and wash robes in the sink or just risk taking them to the laundromat.
  • Having to clean out their trunks when they get home from school because Merlin knows what the hell you will find in there.
  • Trying to keep any younger siblings from telling random strangers on the street that their big brother/sister is a wizard/witch.
  • Showing up to Diagon Alley for the first time and holy shit what the hell is all of this honey please make a friend with witch/wizard parents so they can tell us what to do.
  • Galleons? Knuts?
  • WHY IS YOUR TEXTBOOK TRYING TO ATTACK ME?!
  • Trying to explain to grandparents/aunts/uncles/cousins why they can’t attend visitors day at the child’s new boarding school.
  • Having to come up with a whole new system of rules to deal with anything magical.
  • Standing awkwardly outside platform 9 ¾ and waiting for another wizarding family to show them what to do.
  • Learning that the main wizard sport, which your child is determined to participate in, involves riding around on a thin little stick a hundred or more feet in the air while moving at excessive speeds.
  • Getting letters from your kid after their first night demanding you come pick them up because there is no wifi and THEY SAID IF WE WENT TO THE FOURTH FLOOR WE WOULD DIE.

Seriously. Muggle Parents of Witches/Wizards are adorable. I just have this picture of them rushing out to Diagon Alley after the representative from whatever school visits them to tell them about their kid and they just buy every book they can get their hands on to figure out what the hell they’re supposed to do now.

Plain Face

requested: can you do a peter x reader where peter and her are dating and he keeps saying she looks like someone he knows and they find out that she’s Captain America’s daughter? thank you!

word count: 1897

pairings: peter parker x rogers!reader

warnings: kept this one clean, but we’ll see for future installments 

a/n: Y’ALL THIS ONE WAS SO FUN TO WRITE. to make it easier im just gonna say this is post-civil war, everyone is surprisingly best budz again. i think i’m gonna turn it into a series!! i’m wheezing this might be one of my faves i’ve written so far. lemme know if you guys want more of it! 

tagging: @tronnoristheotp @nedthegay @i-saved-me @theweirdowithablogo @skymoonandstardust @timemngmtoptimisationproblems @thumper-darling @holywinchesterness @grabyourpolaroidandmyhand @ketterdame @tonight-couldbeforgettable


While you complained every day when you went to the gym hidden underground in Brooklyn, you knew that your father meant well–he only wanted the best for you. And that meant training in self defense nearly every day for three hours after school, sometimes by yourself and sometimes, on days he wasn’t away on a job, he went with you.

Today you had gone by yourself, the gym empty and eerie. Punching bags hung from metal bars crossing the ceiling, and sometimes the fluorescent lights flickered, making you feel like you always had to keep an eye on your six.

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You Will Be Found

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Evil Vampire

Length: 3141+ words

TW: Injuries, Torture, Abandonment, Blood, Child Abuse

A/N: I’m so sorry this was posted so late. And gosh, @dreamin-of-somewhere-else​ I’m so sorry I messed up my last post (I wrote 3000 Follower Challenge instead of 2000 Follower Challenge). My head is not screwed on properly, so I apologize for that. Congratulations on 2000 Followers though, boo! You deserve them all, and MUCH MORE 😘

A/N 2: I didn’t specify the reader’s age, but my mind (for some reason) was thinking 11. I don’t know why, but it’s 11. But honestly, it can be any school age. Did I steal the title from Dear Evan Hansen? You bet I did. Forgive me if there are any mistakes, I’m working at 40% capacity right. 

Prompt:“Oh, darling, you’re so broken and nobody notices.”

Feedback is appreciated (AND SO ARE YOU)!


“A kidnapping?” Dean asked with a raised brow. “We don’t deal with that shit.”

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. He summarized the news article aloud. “The man and woman’s blood was drained, the child nowhere to be seen-”

“Yea. Sounds like a regular kidnapping.”

“Their blood was drained, Dean,” Sam said, sounding exasperated for having to repeat the details.

“What do vampires want with a girl?”

“That’s what we have to figure out.”

The boys packed up their bags, and made their way to Indiana.

“I’ve called the deputy,” Sam said. “They’re gonna meet us at her house,” Sam informed his brother, pulling up the case file on his laptop. “Dad was never in the picture, mom died of cancer three years ago. She’s living with her aunt and uncle from the mom’s side. Wai- Wh- Dean…” Sam paused, jaw slacked. “Her birth certificate… Legally her name is Y/N Winchester-L/N.”

“What?!” the eldest Winchester exclaimed. “Th-That must be a coincidence… Right? I-I mean maybe it’s someone who shares the same last name-”

“And got kidnapped by something that went bump in the night? What are the chances?”

“They must’ve gotten it wrong- gotten the wrong Winchester or something.”

“Maybe.” Sam chewed on his bottom lip, a telltale sign of his unease.

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anonymous asked:

ned is such a Soft Boy but dont mess w peter bc everyone knows he will not hesitate to punch a transphobe in the face for His Boy

peter coming out as trans at a young age (around age 7) and it kinda causes an uproar among peter’s friend group and their parents, bc suddenly there are parents accusing may and ben of not being good guardians.

and when they find out that may and ben are putting peter on blockers they say “that child is too young to know what they want” and get furious when may and ben reply with “if a child is old enough to know they’re cisgender then they’re old enough to know they’re transgender”

and some kids at school begin to tease peter a bit, saying shit like “my mom and dad told me that your aunt and uncle are crazy, and that you are too” or they begin to call him trans slurs, and may and ben hate that those kids didn’t know what those slurs were a few weeks ago, and that their parents taught them what they think peter should be called

and one day peter is sitting at lunch alone and flash walks up and begins calling peter names, and peter tries to ignore him. but he’s already having a bad day (he only got an A- on his math test instead of an A+) and he’s just a kid, and he begins to cry. and that only makes flash laugh. peter is hoping that some teachers will come aid him, but they don’t, they never do. so he just sits there as flash and his goons continue to snickers, and he tries to get his tears under control so he doesn’t encourage flash more.

but then suddenly flash is being shoved by ned leeds, that quiet dude in his class who never talks much. peter doesn’t know him very well, but he never thought ned would be the kind of guy to stand up for him. or even try to know him.

and flash swears at ned, but ned just punches flash and tells him in a really low voice to “leave peter alone” and that…. just shakes peter. nobody besides his aunt and uncle have called him peter yet, everyone else deadnames him. it’s almost surreal to be hearing somebody else call him peter, especially someone he’s never really spoken to.

some teachers come over and pull ned away from flash (because of course they’ll defend flash even though peter was just loudly being bullied by him), and ned throws an apologetic glance over his shoulder as he’s escorted to the principals office. flash glares at peter and goes back to his own table in the cafeteria. and peter waits a few moments, picks at his food thoughtfully, before he gets up to go sit outside of the principals office.

he waits outside the office for about twenty minutes, not really caring that he’s missing his history lesson, and then finally the door opens and ned walks out with his head hung low. he’s holding a dark pink letter, something people only get when they’ve gotten a detention.

ned startles when he sees peter and then sheepishly fiddles with the letter, kind of afraid that peter might be mad with him. peter worries ned in turn might be upset too.

“i’m sorry,” they both say, before looking confusedly at each other

“why are you sorry?” peter asks quietly, standing up from the bench he’d been sitting on

“i made a big scene, i’m sorry about that,” ned sighs. his voice is smooth and soft, much different than how it sounded when he was talking to flash.

peter blushes then sighs. “i should be the one saying sorry, i’m the reason you got detention and – ”

“no!” ned says angrily. “you didn’t do anything, flash is the reason i got detention! he needs to stop bullying you!”

peter looks down and kicks at nothing in particular. he needs to retie one of his shoes. “yeah… i dunno, i’m beginning to wonder if they’re right about me. maybe i am just a freak.”

ned walks close to him, and peter flinches, but all ned does is hug him. ned is much bigger and taller than him, everyone kinda is, and they usually use that advantage to be cruel. but all ned does is hug him. and peter just kinda wants to crumble. he gets this kind of affection from may and ben all the time, but he’d missed having it from others. he had felt so alone since he came out that he had started to forget how it felt to have a friend.

“you aren’t a freak,” ned whispers. “you’re so cool! and smart! they’re just stupid, peter, they’re really dumb!!”

peter doesn’t know what to say really, so he doesn’t say anything. he just whispers a shy “thank you” back. ned hugs him for a bit longer and then finally pulls back. peter doesn’t want this to stop, maybe he’s being greedy but he wants ned to be around him always. suddenly he feels addicted to ned’s company, despite only having it for 10 minutes or so.

“school’s almost over,” peter says shyly. “do you wanna come over to my house and play legos? i know they aren’t very – ”

“legos!!” ned says, his eyes going big and a silly smile breaking across his face. his voice cracks lightly, the early stages of puberty beginning to creep over him. “i love legos!!”

“really?” peter says, beginning to bounce on the balls of his feet. he’s so happy.

“yeah!! and model planes too!”

“my uncle builds those!! and those neat ships in bottles!!”

they both begin gabbing about building legos and ships and planes as they walk outside of the school. peter introduces ned to may when she picks peter up from school, and ned calls his mom to say that he’s going over to a friend’s house (making sure to let may speak to his mom first). peter likes where this is going, he likes the way this day has gone and he hopes it’s the first of many days that he will see ned leeds.

Inheritance | Pt. 1

Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: hybrid!au, fluff (later), smut (later later)
Words: 2.6k+
Warnings: The MC gets a lil sad, mentioned death of a family member, swears
Notes: This was going to be a oneshot, then a two-shot, and now it’s a mess. I split it so the transitions would be smoother and it wouldn’t feel as rushed as it would were it all in the one scenario. More parts to come! (forgive the terrible summary)

After your grandmother passed she left everything to you. Her house, her fortune, and apparently… her cat? The grumpy male hybrid you encounter at her house is anything but the tame housecat you’d expected to find. Fulfilling your grandmother’s last request to look after him becomes a lot harder when he seems to be avoiding you, and your dissatisfied relatives start stirring up trouble.

Originally posted by nevermindmyg

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