appropriate ways to look at your brother

The Runaways - The Elephant in the Room (2/3)

Beware, this is long and there is a lot that happens. I’m so overwhelmed by your responses to last week’s chapter! @outlandishchridhe and I really had far too much fun writing this story. I was glad that I could use some references from both the book and the episode for this chapter. As always, let me know what you think!

If you missed the first part, you can catch it HERE


The next several months saw Jamie and Claire sending letters to each other as often as they could. He kept each one in a hollow beside his rosary beads, hidden away and safe. Sometimes, when the other servants were sound asleep, he’d light a candle stub and read them over again.

She told stories of her travels, of the crazy things her father did, the animals she’d seen, the food she’d eaten. Jamie read each detail over and over until he nearly had them memorized. He’d never felt this close to someone before, at least not to someone outside his family. But each word she wrote sang to him, freeing his soul of the weight of providing for his family.

In return for her stories, he told her what few tales he had. His work at Helwater didn’t lend itself to dramatic telling, but he did his best. Each letter he wrote, he wondered if it would make her smile or laugh.

As the time passed, Jamie began counting the days until Christmas. Claire had no way to tell him exactly when she’d arrive, but he knew it would be soon. He’d developed a habit of checking the road every morning for a cab or pair of horses.

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As Silent As Snow

Pairing: Ramsay x unwilling (sister) Reader

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Warnings: Incest and attempted rape

Summary: You are Roose Bolton’s only trueborn daughter and Ramsay has always lusted after you.  When your father devises a plan that would cause Ramsay to lose any chance at becoming his heir, Ramsay tries to stop it.

All your life you were forced to look over your shoulder, peak around corners, sneak around, and all your life your heart had thudded like a steady drum; you were always frightened.  Frightened of what would become of you if he ever found you alone.

He was your brother.

Or at least your half-brother.  

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Daddy’s Angel


“Are you having fun yet Y/N?” Your dad asks you from across the table. You shrug your shoulders.

“It’s alright but it’s not much different than every other race we’ve been to.” You point out uninterested. Your eyes are scanning the people around you, the women dressed in their finest silk dresses and the men in overly expensive suits. The races, obviously, were nothing knew to you. When you were as rich as your parents were, it was unusual if you didn’t attend every race you could and flash your cash, mingling with only the richest, proper, most boring people around. You rolled your eyes as some of the guys looked at you, your red dress somewhat revealing. All the guys you met were all the same; entitled dicks. You wanted something new, something exciting, and you were kidding yourself if you thought you were going to find it here.

Your Dad had gotten up to talk with some co-workers across the room, and most people were busy watching the horses take the track. You sat back at the table alone, your head in your hand, longingly wishing you could have something to drink .For the time being you wanted to live, so you wouldn’t dare have a drink in your father’s presence. He was what most people call “old fashioned” and you were known by most as “Daddy’s angel.” You wanted more than anything to break out of the mold you were placed in.

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anonymous asked:

21 pls

This got super long, anon.  Sorry about that.  This also incorporated a prompt presented by the marvelous @me-ladie that involved a mistaken identity.  Thank you for sending this in!         - xoxo, ahf.


Teresa Carisi is known for several things.

Expensive tastes being one.

Expensive tastes in men being another.

She was also known for planning one hell of a party, and this was the aspect of her that Rafael Barba most enjoyed at the moment.  It was fall in New York and she’d used the natural palette of the season in vibrant greens, shimmering golds, and decadent crimsons to light up the terrace in string lights and lanterns.  Rafael was certain it was meant to call back the nostalgia of childhood with fireflies and crunching leaves but that wasn’t the childhood he had so he tried to view it as an aesthetic rather than something he was supposed to relate to.

The scotch was good, at least.

“You look like you’re enjoying your scotch more than your evening.”

The voice is familiar, the accent strong but not unbecoming for a woman who makes casual charm more appealing than all the polished and practiced grace in Manhattan.

“Teresa,” he tells her fondly, turning to see the woman herself approaching in a burnished gold dress that hugged her thin frame tightly.  “You’ve done a terrific job.”  

“You’re just saying that because I stocked your drink,” she tells him as she leans in for a buss on each cheek, her perfume light in his nose.  It’s Viktor and Rolf, he notes with a smirk.  She’s on the prowl tonight, looking for the next wallet to keep her company.  

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

She laughs and leans against the balcony railing, hip to the thin black iron and her good side to the soft lighting.  The motion suggests there’s already someone at the party in her sights and she wants to present herself accordingly.  

“So,” Rafael starts, “Who is he?”

“Hmm.”

“Teresa,” he admonishes and she grins.  

“One of your senior partners.”

“You’re awful.  Which one?”

“Hanson.”

“You’re worse than awful.  He just divorced his fifth wife two weeks ago.”

“Oh, how terrible for him,” she replied with faux sympathy.  “Sounds to me like he’s in need of company.”

Rafael snorted into his drink as he took another sip.  

“Hey Teresa,” another voice called out from behind them in the same Staten Island lilt and Rafael turned to see another tall blond approaching, this time a hair north of six feet tall with lighter eyes and lips Teresa would have been willing to pay good money for.  “Why is everything at this party written in frigging illegible cursive?  I’m trying to order wine, not decipher hieroglyphics.”  

“It’s called design, brother of mine.  Style.  Maybe learn about it sometime.”

Brother?

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies on his way out to the terrace but nearly stops short when he makes eye contact with Rafael.  His blue eyes grow wide as they rake over Rafael, from the tips of his shined shoes to the careful part in his hair.  Rafael arches a brow at the quick pink tongue that flashes out to wet his lips and it’s only Teresa’s voice that brings them both back to the present.

“Rafael, I can’t believe you haven’t met my kid brother,” Teresa says playfully, as though fully aware of the weight of both their stares.  “Rafael Barba, this is Dominick Carisi Jr.  My younger brother.”

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Recovered Jonsa Fic#17:

Another fic repost!

wewillgotothewindsofwinter:

I need Littlefinger to tease Jon about his inappropriate feelings for his ‘sister’. I need LF to panic as he sees how close Jon and Sansa are. I need LF to dwell in despair because Jon is so much like Ned and Sansa so much like Cat and it’s history repeating for him all over again. I need LF to try something stupid. And I need Jon to punch him in the face. Basically I need LF to suffer. Yes, that would be nice. 


The bastard apologizes to her, and Petyr wants to scream.

The bastard apologizes and promises her: she’s his heir, she’s his regent, she’s Lady of Winterfell and Lady of the Dreadfort, essentially making her his most powerful vassal. She’s queen in all but name. 

Never has there been a more humble king. Never has there been a more attentive, doting, brother.

Petyr can tell that Sansa can’t hate him. Maybe there’d been a chance, but the bastard brings her to every bloody council meeting and before long, she’s named Hand. Before long, she’s attending more meetings and hosting court without him, and any time a single person questions this, they are shut down. 

The jokes begin. “King Jon rules the North, and Princess Sansa rules King Jon.”

Petyr can’t help but remember the last time that he heard a saying like that. It was about Tywin Lannister and his wife, Lady Joanna. 

Petyr watches them closely, when they’re together, which is too often.

She doesn’t freeze up when he leans toward her or touches her. She smiles for him. They are both people who laugh and smile seldomly, but they laugh and smile when around one another.

Petyr watches the bastard. He watches him when Sansa takes her leave. As she walks away, the bastard watches her. And Petyr sees it. There it is. The longing.

And he sees more. He sees the jealousy.

Lord Cerwyn is a lad of eight-and-ten. Not especially handsome, but well-made. And he has a meek, honest way about him. The sort of man Sansa could and would eat alive, and never fear. Though he cried Jon Snow’s name and declared him king, it’s clear that though it is Jon he serves, it is Sansa he worships. He watches her with lovesick eyes, stammers when in her presence, watches her from a distance. 

The new King in the North loathes the lad. He shouts at him when Lord Cerwyn drifts off and stares at the princess. He questions his courage. He challenges him to matches in the yard, and thrashes him without mercy.

He loathes Petyr as well. More than once, he’s suggested Petyr return to the Vale, and leave Lord Royce as ambassador. Sansa has told the bastard everything. And since King Jon was crowned, he’s done everything short of banishing Petyr to keep him separated from the princess.

When a few leal vassals made noises about seeking Princess Sansa’s hand for one of their sons or brothers, the bastard shuts them down with the iciest of stares.

When vassals mention their young, unwed daughters and sisters, the bastard shuts them down with the iciest of stares.

The new king doesn’t flirt, doesn’t smile. He only smiles for his sister. He only confides in his sister. His very movements revolve around her presence. When she enters a room, he stands. When she moves to the table, he pulls out her chair. When he sees her on the arm of another, he swiftly moves to take her.

Sometimes, Petyr catches him gazing at her hair, and he can tell the bastard is fantasizing about taking it in hand, stroking it, seeing it lie upon the surface of his pillow…

Petyr knows these looks. Many of them mirror his own.

Many of them mirror the brief interactions he witnessed between Ned Stark and Catelyn. Catelyn, only smiling and relaxing when she gazed upon that simpleton of a husband. Ned Stark, his surly face relaxing upon seeing her, his hand flying to wind that red hair about his fingers. 

One of the most painful moments in Petyr’s life was watching Lord and Lady Stark kiss. It was love between them. 

He’s witnessed a private moment between the bastard and Sansa. The two of them, standing in the godswood, facing each other. The bastard kissed her forehead. And despite the surrounding snow, despite how much younger the two are, Petyr flashes right back to that day in King’s Landing when Ned Stark jokingly chided his wife about her temper and their lips joined…

He knows what he must do. Because he can no longer suffer this. He can no longer stomach this. He will not have it happen again. No. Not again. 

But he must be sure. He cannot act too foolishly. He must have it confirmed.

His confirmation comes soon enough. And it is bitter.

Catelyn’s second boy reappears: crippled, snow-covered, making odd, cryptic statements. Petyr witnesses the reunion. He compares and contrasts how Sansa and Brandon interact with how she and the bastard treat one another. It. Is. Not. The same.

The boy loves his sister madly, can barely stand to let her go, but he does not look at her the way the bastard does.

Even worse: Sansa adores her little brother, she holds him with utter desperation, she cries, Petyr can’t remember the last time he’s seen her so happy as she embraces her little brother. But her affection for Brandon is markedly different from her affection for the Bastard.

Petyr is sure she doesn’t even realize it yet. And he knows. He knows he has to act now, before she does.

So later that evening, he gambles. Sansa is fussing over Bran, and Petyr discovers that the King in the North has departed from the castle, journeyed to the godswood. Petyr follows him.

He’s never spoken to the Bastard alone. Barely spoken to him at all. But now is the time.

He enters the clearing. The bastard’s back is to him. All Petyr really sees is hair and that bloody fur cloak, identical to Ned Stark’s. Sansa made it for him. She’s never made anything for Petyr. He wants to rip the cloak off the bastard’s shoulders and make him burn it.

Instead, he speaks. “Late hour for prayer, Your Grace.”

The bastard’s form tenses up, and he turns slowly. 

“Contemplation, Lord Baelish,” he says rigidly, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into an uncharacteristic sneer. “I have much to contemplate.”

“Aye, I imagine. It can’t be easy for you. I imagine you must feel rather conflicted.”

“What do you mean?”

Petyr smiles. “On one hand, you have your brother back. On the other, Sansa will once again be put aside.”

There’s a flicker in the King’s eyes, and Petyr realizes that the stupid bastard hadn’t even considered that. He grins.

“I mean, as a trueborn son, Brandon’s claims come before hers. So she’s no longer your heir, no longer Lady of Winterfell. Just as she lost her brother’s crown to you, she’s lost her home and place in the succession again to her little brother. It simply isn’t fair, after all she went through, all she did to get her home back. Perhaps if she’d become queen, there’d be no issue, but alas… Her chance of securing any rights were lost when you answered the Northern Lords’ call. And once again, she must step aside.”

King Jon’s mouth falls open for a second. He reddens. “I will… I will issue a proclamation tomorrow. Sansa remains my heir. She remains Lady of Winterfell.”

“I’m sure your little brother will appreciate that, no doubt. It is complicated, isn’t it?”

The bastard’s guilt is painted across his face. “I should have named her queen that day.”

“Oh yes, I can see your desperation to make her a queen,” Petyr replies, stepping closer, “I’m sure your little brother will appreciate that.”

“I—” The bastard scowls. “What is it you want, Littlefinger?”

Petyr is loving how easy this is. It’s so delicious he barely even flinches at being called “Littlefinger.” The bastard is as much a simpleton as his father. “Me? I want to make up for past mistakes. I gave Sansa up to an unworthy, perverted match before. I let her fall prey to licentiousness and abuse. I will be damned if I allow it to happen again.”

He gives the bastard an earnest, determined, challenging look. Inside, though, he smiles.

The bastard steps back, and Petyr knows. He sees it. The king in the North stammers. “I don’t know what you mean. I intend to keep her from such things, Littlefinger.”

“I don’t think you can be trusted to do so.”

“That means a lot, coming from you.” The Bastard spits.

“I’m not the man lusting after his sister.”

There. There it is. The bastard’s face is a mask of terror. Oh yes, Bastard, I know.

Now, Petyr glares. “Don’t deny it, Jon Snow. I have seen it. I know the truth. You may like to play the good, honorable, humble soldier, but just like your father before you, you can’t ignore your cock. I’ve seen the looks you give Sansa. Not exactly the sort of looks appropriate for a brother, are they?”

The bastard fidgets. He glares. “How dare you?!”

Petyr comes close. “You may have fooled Sansa so far, but you can’t fool me. I bet every woman you’ve ever desired has had hair the color of blood and bright blue eyes. I’ve sold enough whores to read any lusts I encounter. I’ve dealt with men like you. Lords who came to my brothel seeking girls who looked a very particular way, then encountering them with their families at court, and discovering their lady sisters bear striking resemblances to the girls I sold them. Discovering that my clients look upon their own blood with the sort of longing I now see in your eyes whenever they fall upon the woman who exemplifies everything you never had.”

“Shut up.” The bastard chokes out. But Petyr doesn’t.

“Perhaps when you answered the call of your vassals, you thought that taking the Stark birthright would be enough. But it wasn’t, was it? Taking the North from Catelyn Tully’s children isn’t enough. No, you need to take her lovely lady daughter, the perfect princess who looks so much like the woman who would never be your mother, you need to take her. You need to lay her upon the sheets of Lord and Lady Stark’s bed, the bed where your father and his lady wife made all of those trueborn children deemed more worthy than you, and make Sansa yours. Take her, claim her, defile her. Make her as incestuous as the mad queen in the South. Make her yours. Take everything. You burn for her. For your sister. You’re every bit as sick as a Lannister.”

The bastard’s hand on his throat is as satisfying as it is painful, as is the sensation as Jon Snow slams him up against the trunk of the Heart Tree. He flashes back to that day with Ned Stark, outside the brothel. Starks. Quick tempers. Slow minds.

But this time, he’s going to keep his Tully girl from them. He will. He will. Jon Snow won’t kill him. He knows it. He’s too honorable.

He actually hears the crunching from his nose against the bastard’s fist before the pain of it registers. But the pain does hit. And Petyr feels twinges of doubt. Maybe the bastard isn’t that honorable.

He bites his tongue, literally and figuratively. But even more frightening is the bastard’s smirk. The bastard isn’t supposed to be smirking.

“Not a Lannister,” hisses the bastard, “Like a Targaryen, actually.”

By his tone, Petyr realizes that there’s something to this, and he’s almost afraid to ask what. But he does. “What are you talking about, Bastard?”

The bastard grins even further. “Bran arrived today with some interesting information. Information that has since been confirmed by Lord Reed, who was with Eddard Stark when Lady Lyanna died. As it turns out, I’m not Lord Stark’s bastard after all. I’m the product of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. You haven’t heard, because Sansa doesn’t trust you. And that eats you up, doesn’t it?”

Petyr is out of breath, and not just from the blood and cartilege clogging his nasal cavities. “Wh—wh–what?!”

“Lord Eddard kept it a secret. But secrets come out. So no, Littlefinger. You may lust after your niece, but I do not lust after my sister.” The bastard’s eyes flash. “Sansa told me what you said to her. Your little dream. You, on the Iron Throne, her by your side. I don’t want the Iron Throne. Or, rather, I didn’t. But I may now. Not because I want to take anything from Sansa or Bran or Arya or Lady Catelyn. No, I’ll do it, if only to take it from you. You betrayed my family, Littlefinger. You double-crossed my father. You killed Jon Arryn and sparked everything that destroyed the lives of the people I loved—”

Petyr freezes. How could he possibly know—?

The Bastard reads his expression and grins. “My little brother arrived bearing lots of fascinating information. And now… I was content to never venture south, to let myself die in the North, fighting, to never, ever act on what I feel for Sansa. And trust me, in many ways, not loving Sansa was as terrifying a concept. 

“Because bloody hell…. I love her. I do. And unlike you, I actually know it’s real love. It’s not some entitled obsession passed from mother to daughter. I look at Sansa, and I don’t see Catelyn Tully. Seven Hells, I see more of her father in her than I see of her mother. But mostly, I see her. I’ve been in love before, Littlefinger. Loved a woman who never offered me anything I felt I was denied. Just a woman I bloody loved. Worshipped. Almost gave everything up for. I know love when it comes, and it’s here again. I am in awe of Sansa, I can believe that this world is worth fighting for, if only because she’s in it. I would die again if only to keep her safe. To make her smile. To make her feel safe and hopeful again. To make her feel even a fraction of the joy she brings me. But I didn’t want to scare her. After what she’s suffered thanks to you, pursuing her seemed wrong. And I’ve believed myself bound for death anyways. And I didn’t care, because if I died fighting the White Walkers, I’d be giving up my life to keep her safe, and would leave her the throne that’s rightfully hers. But you know what? Now I think I’ll live. I’ll survive the wars and come back to her. I’ll give her the throne of the North, then march South with her by my side and take the Iron Throne. I’ll declare myself King in the South, build her a throne of her own, and have her by my side as Queen in the North. And I am going breed a dozen babes into her—- Starks and Targaryens. And we’ll build a world for them and leave them everything you ever wanted. You’ll be a footnote. I’m going to be the man who makes her happy. I’m going to be the man who gives her babes with bright red hair. I’ll take the throne, and keep you alive only long enough for you to see us. Sitting side by side in the Red Keep, my firstborn in her arms. She’ll be happy, safe, loved. And I will give her everything you could only ever take from her.”

Petyr shakes. He sees it now. He sees it. His beautiful dream, gone. It’s not him on the Iron Throne, but this bastard. And he sees it, gods, he sees it. He sees her. Her by his side, babe at her breast, looking upon the bastard in adoration. In love.

“Jon?”

Now Petyr seriously wonders if he’s having a nightmare. Because that’s her voice.

Both men look over, and there is Sansa, hands clasped, as beautiful as a winter rose. Even more beautiful than Cat ever was. The hood of her Stark cloak pulled up around her face so she resembles a little bear cub. She pulls the hood down and that red hair tumbles out.

She comes forward. The bastard releases Petyr. He falls to the ground, landing roughly on the roots of the weirwood. Sansa’s eyes are on the bastard. And she looks… She looks like his worst nightmare: beautiful and in love. 

The bastard looks panicked. “Sansa, I—”

She stops him with a fingertip to his lips. Petyr watches her and marvels. How could anyone look at her and see Ned Stark? She’s Cat. Cat. Cat…

She smiles. “That’s a beautiful dream, Jon. The most beautiful I can imagine. I want it for us. I want you to promise it to me. Even if you have to come back from the dead for it.”

“You… You want it?” He has that dumbfounded expression that was so, so Ned Stark.

“I want you. I want you by my side. I couldn’t care less for the Iron Throne, but us side by side, the babes, the better world we can give them.” 

And she kisses him. Just like Cat kissed that fool from the North. It takes Petyr several moments to realize he’s screaming.

The two break apart, and Sansa looks down on him. There is nothing but pure disgust in her eyes. 

“I have to say, though, My Love, I do agree with you,” she says, her tone mocking, “The Iron Throne does have a certain appeal if it means keeping him from it. I would very much like to give you everything Littlefinger wants.”

Petyr whimpers. She called him Littlefinger.

Before he knows it, he’s being dragged through the snow by his collar. He blacks out, and wakes up to find himself in a dark cell. He’s alone. He’s afraid.

Eventually, a page brings him a plate of what looks like it might have been mutton stew once. The lad is skinny, about twelve, and missing some teeth already. He grins at Petyr.

“I’m ta tell ya, Littlefingah, from the queen ‘erself—”

“—Queen?!”

“King Jon ain’t no Stark, as it turns out. ‘E surrendered the North to Queen Sansa this mornin’. ‘E’s declared ‘imself a lost Targaryen prince instead, says ‘e’s meant to be King in the South, not the North.” The lad shrugs, “But ‘e’s not Old Lord Eddard’s bastard, so ‘e can’t be King in the North. So Sansa’s queen now, and ‘er crippled brother is prince. But that’s not what Queen Sansa’s so eager to know, now. No, she wants me ter tell ya that King Jon is going ta be a King in the North again, in a fashion. She says that she wants you to know that you’ll be let out and given a ‘ot meal and fine new clothes so you can come to ‘er wedding. She even—”

The lad stops, hesitates, then grins, “She says she’s found something she likes after what Lord Ramsay did to her. That you needn’t worry, that you’ll be out of ‘ere soon enough, because the wedding will need to be soon since she’s already started working on giving the North an ‘eir. The North and the South. And she says that after yer let out, and give yer blessing, that ‘the mockingbird will get to spread ‘is wings an’ fly.’ Don’t know what that part is supposed ter mean. But…” The boy giggles. “I know what she means with the first part.”

Petyr glares at the boy. “Get out!”

The lad shrugs. “Alright. I’m not ter be yer guard anyways.”

“Then who is?!” Petyr demands.

The lad gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “’Im.”

And that’s when Petyr sees the red eyes in the distance. That’s when he hears the growling. 

thats-the-way-the-news-goes  asked:

🐣Would work perfectly for the deaged aus! (Stan and Ford pls?)

🐣 - phoenix

Okay, a bit of explanation: I came up with a scenario, where Stan and Ford, after somehow reconciling instead of fighting in 1982, work together to shut down the portal for good.  As thanks for protecting Gravity Falls from such an evil, the local phoenix blesses the two of them.  Unfortunately, a phoenix blessing results in complete reversion to being a newborn infant; a complete blank slate, being reborn, like the phoenix is.  This (apparently omnipotent) phoenix dropped them off at Fiddleford’s house, since Fiddleford knew Ford.  However, that’s not where the twins actually end up.  I think the writing should fill in the rest of the blanks.  Some of it’s under a cut bc boy it got LONG.

Send me an emoji and I’ll write you a ficlet!


               Dan Corduroy was in the middle of whittling a chipmunk from a chunk of cedar when he heard a knock on the front door.  He set down the partially carved rodent with a small frown.

               There’s a blizzard.  Who the hell is outside in this weather?  Dan stood and walked over to the door.  When he opened it, he was hit with a burst of cold air.  He looked around.  There was no one there.  His ears picked up on a faint whimpering.  He looked down.  There was a basket on the doorstep, just in front of his feet.  Its contents were covered by a blanket.  Dan crouched down and carefully picked up a corner of the blanket.  His eyes widened.  The whimpering had come from two infants, which were nestled together in the basket. Dan swallowed.

               I better bring ‘em in.  He picked up the basket and brought it inside.  Now they were in a warm environment, Dan took the blanket off the babies.  Dressed in matching red onesies, they peered up at him.  The one on the left had a piece of paper stuck to its chest.  Dan reached out to take the paper, and was immediately grabbed by the infant.  He tried to free himself, but the baby clung to him determinedly.  Dan accepted defeat with a small chuckle.

               “You’re a TOUGH one, huh?” he rumbled, picking up the infant.  The baby nestled against his chest and closed its eyes. Dan detached the paper and read it.

—– 

               Dan Corduroy,

               These twin boys were left in my charge.  But I can’t take care of them in my state.  They have no parents, siblings, or other relatives. They are all alone.  

               The system wouldn’t suit them, I can tell. There’s something special about them. They deserve a shot at life, one that I believe they could only have if you took care of them.  

               You’re a good man, and while you are young, I know these boys will be safe under your roof.  Raise them as your own, or as someone else’s.  But don’t let them get separated, and don’t let them leave Gravity Falls, where I can keep an eye on them.

               Their names are Stanley and Stanford.  As far as I’m concerned, they’re Corduroy boys now.  

               Godspeed.

               -F

—– 

               Dan finished reading the letter, a strange tight feeling in his chest. The infant he was holding made a smacking sound with his lips.  The one left in the basket was still staring at him.  

               “Dunno if you two are CORDUROY material,” Dan told the babies.  The one in the basket blinked slowly at him.  Dan felt a small smile quirk his lips.

               Dan, don’t jump into this.  You’re barely old enough to buy beer.  You live with your big brother.  Can you really be a dad?  He thought about what the letter said.  “As far as I’m concerned, they’re Corduroy boys now.”  

               “THINK you can HANDLE it?” Dan asked the babies.  The one he was holding made a small noise.  The one in the basket blinked again.  “EH.  WHAT the hell.  Boys, let’s GET you some FOOD.”

—– 

               A fight.

               Reconciliation.

               Fire.  So much fire.

               Stanley Corduroy woke with a gasp, his heart pounding in his ears, and a bird’s cry still echoing in his mind.

               “Lee?  You all right?” a groggy voice asked.  Lee looked over at the other bed in the room.  His twin brother was rubbing his eyes blearily.

               “Uh, yeah, Ford, I think so.  Just that nightmare again.”

               “Careful.  You keep losing sleep like that, you won’t qualify for finals.”

               “Pfft,” Lee scoffed.  “I can win those lumberjack competitions with my eyes closed and two hands tied behind my back.”  There was loud knocking at the door.  “Yeah?” The door opened.  Manly Dan Corduroy poked his head in, splintering part of the doorframe as he did so.

               “About TIME you boys got UP.  Someone’s here to SEE you.”

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P4/P5 AU Canons: Goro Bonding.

• Naoto takes Goro under her wing, having ample experience with police cases and feeling a deep connection to him due to their similar aspirations. Referring to him as ‘Akechi-chan’, as she deems it appropriate due to his nature, she looks after him as a big sister would look after a much younger brother. She serves as his shield in battle: “Don’t worry, Akechi-chan, I’m here to support you!” “Stand your ground. I’ve got you!”

• If you even think of looking at Goro the wrong way, Kanji will open a can of whoop-ass on you. Cue Kanji going into snarling Doberman Pinscher mode at vulgar creeps trying to hit on Goro: “Get BACK, jerks, unless you wanna find your teeth on the ground!” “There you go, Akechi-chan. You okay?” He’s warm and gentle towards Goro himself, even more so after the tent incident, in which Goro happily invites Kanji to sleep in his tent if he wants.

• Chie’s easy to explain: “I’ll take care of ‘em for ya, lil’ brother! Just watch!” “If you EVER think of doing that to Akechi-chan again, I’ll GUT you!”

• Yosuke unwittingly starts calling Goro 'Chi-chan’, indignantly explaining to a laughing Kanji that 'he reminds me of a dog, okay?! Get off my back’. Yosuke gradually grows powerful protective instincts towards the Junior Officer and constantly trips over himself around him, unnerved by a guy that’s just as pretty, fragile and friendly as a girl.

Ficlet: A Secret to Share

Summary: Shiro kept a secret from Keith - but it just might save his life. 

A/N: Quickly written to satisfy my burning need for a resolution to the Kuron issues. Btw, if Voltron is going the route of clones and alternate dimension, I can have this.


Keith sat down in the Black Lion’s pilot seat, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. The team was coming along, but he wanted – needed – Shiro back. And Red had located Keith before. Why hadn’t Black gone after Shiro – wherever he was.

Keith curled his hands about the Black Lion’s controls and murmured, “Help me. Please. Tell me how to find him.”

The Black Lion growled to life, but when Keith opened his eyes, he no longer sat in the pilot’s seat but stood to the right of it, where he always stood when near Shiro. Shiro sat in Black’s chair, and for a moment, Keith’s breath caught in his chest. Shiro was here? Shiro was back? But when he lurched forward, his hand swiped right through Shiro’s shoulder, like how the Black Lion phased through solid objects.

So Shiro wasn’t really there? Was this a memory?

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Public display of affection

Requested by @noisilyyoungpuppy

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Sam

Sam is not big on PDA but he loves holding your hand whenever you walk side by side. He loves it when you lean against him ever so slightly when you walk. Whenever he has to leave you for whatever period of time and for what purpose he will lean in and place a lingering kiss against your hair ignoring his brother’s teasing.

Sam usually likes to keep your intimacy behind closed doors mostly because of his older brother’s well-meant smart ass remarks but he also knows you love to cuddle with him on the couch in the library at night. So he will let you lean against him and enjoy the feel of your body against him or let you rest your legs in his lap and absently start rubbing your feet much to the amusement of his brother.

The smile on your face and the love in your eyes will make him forget Dean’s words though. He can live with a little teasing as long as you keep looking at him the way you are when he decides to lean forward and press a soft kiss against your lips.  Nope Sam is not big on PDA ;)  

Cas

The human relationships thing is still new to Cas. He is still learning what is appropriate to do when you are in public. All he know is he wants to kiss you and touch you all the time but he never wants to make you uncomfortable so he will always ask you before he does.

He will lean in closely when you are sitting in the park and whisper in your ear if he can kiss you. He will lean closely enough for you to feel his warm breath against your neck and send a shiver down your spine making it impossible to say no even if you wanted to.

When you are in the bunker he will be a little more forward. He will not ask you every time he touches you but he will always be subtle about his affection. He will run his hand gently up your leg searching your face for approval when he finds it you will feel his grace flow through your body caressing you everywhere without the Winchester’s knowledge and you won’t last long before you grab the angels and drags him off to the privacy of your room.

Dean

Dean’s way of showing his affections for you is not subtle on the contrary it is very hands on. He does not care who is looking if he feels like touching you he will.

He will wrap his arms around you from behind when he walks into the room and kiss your neck. Where ever you go his hands will always find you. He will lace his fingers through yours as you walk down the halls of the bunker. He will wrap his arm around your shoulders as you walk from his car and to the bar/cinema/restaurant.

Sometimes you will feel his eyes on you when you walk through the library and when you pass him he will grab your arm and pull you down onto his lap. He will run his hands up your neck and into your hair as he pulls you in for a long passionate kiss. Not caring how uncomfortable he makes the angel and totally ignoring his brother annoyed clearings of the throat. All he cares about is how much he loves you and finding ways to show you every day no matter who is watching.

GIFS ARE NOT MINE

Hit The Road

Originally posted by themegalosaurus

Requested by anonymous:

“Sam Winchester X reader where they’re childhood bffs but dean makes them go on a hunt as a married couple?”

Warnings: Violence, fluff

Note: I have only watched seasons 1 & 2 and a bit of season 3 so I’m basing this one shot off what I have seen so far


“What do you guys want?” You asked glancing between the two brothers.

“Cheeseburger with the lot, extra fries to.” Dean ordered as he typed away on Sam’s computer. You folded your arms across your front as you jutted out your right hip, tapping your foot impatiently. You cleared your throat when Dean didn’t catch on. His eyes darted from the laptop to see you staring at him intently with your brows raised.

“Please.” He added, rolling his eyes. “That’s better.” You smiled before turning to Sam who was seated opposite Dean. “What about you Sammy?” You asked kindly. “I’ll just get a salad please *yn*.” He smiled politely.

“No problem. Your brother could definitely learn a thing or two from you when it comes to manners.” You spoke sweetly before glancing over at Dean. 

“Funny.” Dean grumbled sending you a mocking smile. “I’ll be back in a sec.” You laughed, poking your tongue out at Dean cheekily before heading towards the counter to order.

As you walked away Sam craned his neck to watch you make your way to the counter. His eyes lingered on you for a length of time that surpassed the appropriate time someone would spend looking at their best friend.

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Cass & Bruce: Cold War

Summary: Cassandra needs a dress for a dance but not without Bruce’s approval - Set in a Civilian AU

Characters: Cassandra, Bruce, Jason & Tim

I want to thank @identityconstellations for her help with this fic and agreeing to collaborate with me. I hope you guys will enjoy this story.


“Are we done yet?” Jason whines as he sits down on the seat in the middle of Bruce and Tim.

“Be patient, Jason. I’m sure she’ll find something she’ll like here,” Bruce replies while staring at the entrance of the dressing room, waiting for Cassandra to come out.

“That’s what you said about two hours ago,” Tim points out while looking at his phone, obviously bored with the activity they were forced to indulged in.

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anonymous asked:

This is maybe stupid question but, in the books Sansa said The courtesy is lady's armour, what did she meant by that? What does the quote mean?

Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady’s armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, “I’m sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord.”

It’s a mix of politeness, formal compliance to feudal etiquette, and knowing exactly what’s the proper thing to say and how to say it all the time so that you will never embarrass yourself with awkward silences, nor end up saying things that could be used against you. Septa Mordane taught Sansa her courtesies to prepare her for being a lady and a queen. She couldn’t know that Sansa would be forced to use her teachings to shield herself from constant abuse, to keep her captors satisfied with her or at least not offer them her flank so they could take advantage of whatever inappropriate thing she’d say to beat and humiliate her. (it doesn’t always work, as Joffrey is really unpredictable in his sadism, and often hurts Sansa even though she has done nothing to provoke his anger. But that’s what abusers do.) 

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anonymous asked:

Nekozawa introducing his s/o to Kirimi?

Oh, boy was he worried. He was naturally pessimistic, and something as serious as this didn’t help that. Mostly, it was his insecurities talking. Every possible scenario with a bad outcome clouded his mind. What if you two didn’t like each other? What if you liked her more than him? What if it scared you away?

The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself as to why you shouldn’t meet Kirimi. But ultimately, he knew it would be for the best. You were the two most important people in his life and nothing would make him happier than if the two of you could create a friendship.

After many awkward attempts, Nekozawa finally was able to tell you what was on his mind. “I know I’ve been acting very strangely lately, and I apologize for that,” he began nervously.

You nodded in agreement; he was so mysterious lately and it had you worried. Every time you had asked though, he’d simply brushed you off and that had made you more worried. 

“I’d like it if you met Kirimi,” he said quickly, bracing himself in case you disagreed. He felt a little bit better now that he’d told you, though.

“Kirimi? Your little sister?” You questioned him, and when he vigorously nodded, you gave him a smile. “I’d love to!”

His shoulders sagged with relief and he let out a sigh. “How about this weekend?”

You giggled at how shaken he looked and you nodded. “It’s a date, then.”


Honestly, Nekozawa seemed more shaken up than you did. You had some worries, too, but you tried to be brave for his sake. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

“And cats scare her, so don’t bring them up either,” Nekozawa rambled. He was telling you all sorts of information about his sister at once, hoping to give you a medley of topics to discuss.

“It’s gonna be fine, stop worrying,” you told him gently but firmly, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

He seemed to relax a little and he took a deep breath. “I know, I know. Come on, she’s waiting for us.”

You followed him into the tea room, spotting the small blonde sitting on the couch. When she saw the both of you, she smiled. It warmed your heart; Nekozawa had told you all about their previous history and you were glad that the siblings could connect now.

She hopped off the couch, running over to both of you. “Big brother! Is this…”

“Yes. Kirimi, I’d like you to meet my beloved Y/N.”

You blushed a little at the introduction before you smiled, lowering yourself so you were eye level. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Kirimi,” you told her with a small smile.

She analyzed you for a moment with her big blue eyes before she smiled. “It’s nice to meet you too! Big brother talks about you a lot.”

“He does, does he?” You teased him, and he blushed, looking away.

“Yes, well…I’ll get the tea.”

You both watched him scramble away to get the tea before you averted your attention back to the small girl. She took your hand, guiding you to the couch, and you both sat down.

“So Kirimi, your brother was telling me you like to read, is that true?” You asked her and she beamed.

“Yeah! Could you read to me?”

“Of course.” You were happy to see her having a good time, although your cheeks turned red when you realized just what kind of stories she wanted you to read to her. “Erm, Kirimi, don’t you want something more age appropriate?”

“No way! I love this one,” she insisted, and you sighed before you started to read, trying not to get too embarrassed.

When Nekozawa came back, he watched you two from the doorway. Kirimi looked so happy to see you, and you seemed to be having a good time reading to her. He decided to slip away, choosing to come check on you both later.

Kirimi was happy listening to you read, but you realized Nekozawa hadn’t come back yet. You set the book down, promising her you’d be right back. 

In the hall way, you didn’t see him. Instead, you saw a tray with teacups and small sandwiches on it. You smiled to yourself; you could handle this.

When Nekozawa came back to check on you, he smiled when he noticed Kirimi was asleep on the couch and you were peacefully relaxing beside her.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” he told you quietly, and you gave him a smile.

“It’s okay. Everything turned out really well,” you assured him, nodding towards his sister. “She was an angel. She wore herself out, though.”

“Well, I suppose I should take you home then before it gets too late,” he suggested, and you nodded.

When you stood to get up, though, you felt a hand tug at your leg. You turned, noticing Kirimi looking at you sleepily. Half-asleep, she mumbled, “where are you going?”

You smiled gently at her, ruffling her hair a bit. “I’m going home. I’ll be back soon, though, and then we can see how that story ends, okay?”

“Kay.” She gave you a sleepy smile in return.

As you started to leave, you heard her call out to you, “come back soon, big brother/sister!”

Your cheeks turned a little red and you waved to her before you followed Nekozawa out into the hallway.

“She really liked you,” he observed, and you smiled.

“I really liked her. She’s a sweet girl.” You turned to him, kissing his cheek lightly. “I like you more though. ~”

His cheeks reddened and he started to walk faster. “Oh, heh, really?”

You laughed a little at his demeanor, nodding as he laced your fingers together. “Really.”

BBF (brother’s best friend)

Request: http://kpoppsluff.tumblr.com/post/131371896854/hi-can-you-do-a-long-smut-where-taehyung-is-your

Okay is a little dictionary if you aren’t familiar what the abbreviation or words mean.

Jagiya- honey, sweetie, darling, love

Y/N- Your name 

Y/F/C- your favorite color

Y/B/N- your best friends name 

Y/B/D- your birth date. 

Hope you guys enjoy!

Sorry if it’s long I got carried away!! XDD


Originally posted by onewside

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We Are Not Soldiers  (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark x reader)

Request: Hi love! Your writing is phenomenal! I wanted to request a one shot where the reader is Tony’s daughter and married to Steve. They both want her to be on their side for Civil War, but I don’t know what to do for the ending, so you can choose that! But seriously, though, your writing is the best ever, it cheers me up and I wait for it everyday! 

THANK YOU so much, sweetie!  And thank you for this request!!  I hope you don’t mind, but I used Tony’s sister from some of my other stories so she would have powers too, just to tie into the story a bit differently (we can pretend she didn’t die after Ultron, right?)- I hope you still like it!  


Steve was restless as he sat up in bed, reading files that were strewn across his lap, and angrily typing information onto his computer.  You had all but given up on sleep as you heard the occasional huff and murmured curse come from him, now becoming more frequent.

“Babe, what’s wrong? You’ve been at this for hours.”

“Have you read this?” He angrily threw one of the files onto your lap as you sat up, the papers nearly falling to the floor. “This can’t happen.  This is a violation of our civil rights, and Stark agrees with it!  How the hell can he be okay with this?”

You had heard talk of the Superhuman Registration Act; the government wanted to require anyone with natural or acquired superhuman abilities, including non-super powered humans who used advanced tech, to register so that they could coordinate their use in enforcing the law.  It could mean that anyone with advanced abilities would be trained and controlled by government rule.  On the other hand, it also meant that better control could mean fewer civilian casualties. Teams could be trained to work together, and sent into situations only when needed and only those with the appropriate skills or powers.  After recent events of civilian harm and destruction, maybe the public trust could be regained.

“Well, I can see both sides of this, Steve.  There should be a way to find a middle ground here.”

“You’re just saying that because he’s your brother.”  Steve stood, tossing the files carelessly onto the floor.  “Of course you don’t want to disagree with him.”

You set down the file you had been reading and looked at your husband, confused.  “Wait, what?  I’m not disagreeing with him because he’s my brother?  What if I’m not disagreeing with him because I might actually agree?  Am I not allowed to disagree with you?”

“You can’t be serious, (Y/N).  You really agree with being forced to identify yourself and your abilities to the government who, in turn, will use you however they see fit?  What if you don’t agree with how they want to use your power?  You can’t say no; they will own you. If you go against them, you could end up in prison, (Y/N).”

You stood now to face him directly, holding a firm posture that matched his.  His body was tense and his arms were crossed over his chest; it was his classic authoritative pose, but it had no effect on you.  “Steve, you know that’s not what I want.  But I also don’t want any more innocent lives affected by our actions.  I also don’t want vigilantes running around, using their abilities to do whatever the hell they want.”

“Well, (Y/N), you can’t have it both ways.  You’re going to have to pick a side.”

“You’re joking.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out deliberately.  You sensed his anger, but it was restrained, combined with a deep sadness.  He knew what he was asking of you, and was afraid of the answer he would receive.  As he looked at you, his voice became deeper and his eyes darkened, “do I look like I’m joking?”

Stepping to your bathroom, you grabbed your robe off the door and quickly draped it around your shoulders.  “Steve, you’re asking me to choose between my husband and my brother.  How can you possibly expect me to do that?”  

“I’m asking you to choose what’s right.”

You needed to clear your head, and you had to talk to Tony.  “I can’t tear my family apart over this, Steve.”

“(Y/N), that’s going to happen no matter what you decide.”

~~~

You felt sick to your stomach as you entered the elevator, preparing yourself to talk to your brother. The doors closed swiftly behind you, but your hand hesitated over the button for the penthouse; the hand that bore your intricate and vintage wedding ring.  Pulling back, your fingers traced over the stones and slowly spun the ring around your finger as your mind raced.  What would you even say to him?  Would he insist that you make the same choice that Steve had?  

“Where can I take you, Miss?”

You jumped as FRIDAY’s voice boomed thru the lift.  You didn’t realize that you had been standing there so long, not moving towards your destination.  “Um, sorry, FRIDAY.  I’m going to see Tony.”

“Mr. Stark is in the gym.”

At this time of night it could only mean that he was upset.  If he couldn’t sleep, he worked in the lab.  If he was anxious, he worked on his suits.  If he was angry, he beat the hell out of the bag.  A small smile dared to cross your face as you recognized that Steve did the exact same.

As the doors opened you could see Tony thru the darkened gym windows.  He wasn’t working out; he was talking to someone that you couldn’t see, standing behind one of the pillars.  His hands were animated and his eyes wide as he spoke, clearly invested in whatever he was saying.  You could feel his anxiety rising as you moved closer, but you could also feel…wait, was it…Steve.

Running now, you burst thru the doors as Steve’s fist connected with Tony’s face, knocking him across the room. Tony stood and rubbed his jaw, determined to retaliate.  He raised his arm, ready for his suit to connect.  Steve bolted forward, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. Tony thrust his head backwards, snapping into Steve’s face, the surprise forcing him to release his grip.  

Tony backed away, but Steve was determined to get the upper hand.  He wiped a small drop of blood from his nose and looked at Tony; the amount of rage he was feeling barraged your mind, and you gasped at the assault. You jumped between the two, grabbing Tony’s arm as you tried to reach for your husband.  You felt Tony calm immediately to your powers, but Steve saw what you were trying to do.

“No, (Y/N), don’t touch me.”

“Steve, you know I don’t need to touch you to do this.”

“Do you know what he said, (Y/N)?  Do you want to know what your darling brother said just now?”  He was moving closer, but you extended a hand in an attempt to keep the space between the two men.

“No, Steve, and I don’t want to.  I want you to calm down and walk away.”

“This isn’t that simple!” He was again moving closer, and you pushed back on Tony slightly to take a step away.  You knew he would never hurt you, he would never consider laying a hand on you, but there were no guarantees on that with Tony.  Tony was strong, but without his suit he could only hold the Captain at bay for so long.

“Rogers, you will stand down!”  Rhodey’s voice echoed thru the room, but the snap as he armed his gun was resounding. His arrival startled Steve, whose attention was momentarily turned towards the door.

You seized the moment and lunged forward, grabbing his arm.  You didn’t care anymore that he didn’t want you to interfere.  You didn’t care that this would only make things worse between you.  The situation needed to stop before someone did something that they would regret.  As Steve’s posture relaxed, you turned to Rhodey and gestured for him to leave.  

“(Y/N), you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this. Go.”

Steve’s breathing finally began to slow; his expression softened as he looked at you, his eyes becoming sadder the longer he held your gaze.  After a few minutes, you finally felt able to release your grip on him.

“He said that people like us need to be controlled.”

~~~

“Steve, I think you should give my brother and I a minute alone.”

Thankfully still under your power to stay calm, he nodded silently and moved towards the door. Pausing before exiting he turned back to you; his mouth opened as if to say something, but closed again without a sound as he turned and walked away.

“That’s not what I meant, (Y/N).  It didn’t come out right.”  Tony pulled away from you and began pacing across the floor.  “You know I don’t think that, right?”  When you didn’t respond, he stopped abruptly to look at you with wide eyes.  “Right?”

“I thought I knew a lot of things, Tony.  When I woke up this morning, I knew a hell of a lot more than I do right now.  What I know now is that my husband could have murdered my brother and never had a second thought about it.  I know that my husband is making me choose between him and you.  I know…” you paused, feeling a shift in his emotions, “I know that you’re about to ask the same of me, aren’t you?”

“This is bigger than you and me, sweetheart.  This is bigger than all of us.  People with powers and abilities, yes, like yours, can’t be expected to monitor and act on every situation without some regulation.  That includes people like me, (Y/N).”  He dropped his gaze to the floor, avoiding you.  “I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was excluded from this.”

“And there’s no middle ground here, Tony?  No way that a compromise can be found in all of this?”

“If there is, I don’t see it.”

The thought of what this would do to your family, to your team, was almost too much.  Tears built up in your eyes and threatened to spill over. The more you thought about it, the bigger the fallout became in your mind, and you knew that the future would be radically different from the life you knew now.  You began to wring your hands together as your own anxiety began to build.

“Tony, what does this mean for the Avengers?”

“It means…that we’re gonna have to pick a side.”  Tony finally looked up at you again, but his expression was guarded.  “All of us.”

Part 2

anonymous asked:

matsuno brothers cheering on their s/o at a sports game (*cough* baseball *cough*)

YAKYUU -Mod Ashley

Osomatsu got kicked out before the 3rd inning. Some douche was talking smack about his s/o’s team, and they served beer at the game. Two combinations that did not work well together.

Karamatsu is super supportive! He has a shirt with their team’s name printed in glitter that’s in their team’s color, plus his s/o’s and his face on the back of his jacket. You don’t even want to know about the flag incident. Too embarrassing.

Choromatsu is supportive, but he’s way more calm than his other brothers. He cheers for you when it’s appropriate, wears your team’s logo, and cheers your name when you’re up at bat or if you’ve scored.

For Ichimatsu, just think Osomatsu, but on the inside. He’s willing to cheer for his s/o, but doesn’t like to attract attention to himself. When someone talks trash about your team, he has to resist the urge to tear off their face. (But he imagines himself doing it)

His s/o plays baseball?! Jyushimatsu was so worked up that he literally looked like he was about to explode. His s/o almost didn’t want him at their games because he was loud and kind of embarrassing, but luckily, they didn’t have to say anything, as he was banned from the stadium. (Think: episode 25)

Todomatsu was totally willing to cheer for his s/o! When he goes to games, he paints his face and wears a shirt, cheering for them and lowkey threatening the opponents and posting pictures to social media.

Edmund Pevensie Imagine: A Servant and the King (Requested by phoenix-storm)

Imagine…

You were one of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve’s many servants. Though they quite particularly liked you. You were always sweet and kind to them, and even had the courage to engage in conversation with Queen Lucy, who had become your confidant.

You told Lucy pretty much everything about your life. How you were born and raised as an elf, and how your brothers had fought in the battle that had killed the White Witch. Lucy was fascinated by every detail of your life, and loved to ask more about your family and what things you liked or didn’t like to do, what foods you preferred to eat or didn’t eat. 

But one thing you didn’t tell her was that you had strong, affectionate feelings for her brother, King Edmund. There was no way you could tell her about your feelings, for servants were not supposed to feel this way for their masters. 

Regardless, you grew to love King Edmund for all that he was and all that he would ever be. He was a handsome, valiant man who always wanted to bring evil to justice. That, in fact, was one of the reasons why you loved him. 

You were supposed to be scrubbing the floors of the castle when King Edmund walked into the room, and spotted you immediately.

“Hello there, fair servant girl.” he said with a charming smile, “Tell me, might you happen to know where my older brother, King Peter is?”

You gulped and opened your mouth to answer, but you started stuttering instead.

“I-i um, uh I think h-he um…" 

You trailed off, not being able to answer when the love of your life was standing before you. 

Edmund chuckled. "I take it you don’t know where he is then?”

You felt a hot blush rise to your cheeks and quickly shook your head. Your gaze averted back to the floor as you started scrubbing again, this time even harder. Your shining brown hair fell over around your face as you scrubbed mercilessly against the marble floor.

Edmund stared at you for a minute, taking the mere sight of you in. You were beautiful, he could clearly see that. What’s more is, he had fallen for you over the past few years you had been serving him and his brother and sisters. And from what his sister Lucy had said about you, you were a bright, amazing, and beautiful elf who could make anyone smile when they needed it. 

Edmund kneeled before you and gently placed his hand over yours, stopping your scrubbing and hearing you suck in a small breath.

“Look at me, beautiful servant.” he murmured. 

You kept your eyes fixed on the marble floor. This couldn’t really be happening could it?

He tried to move his head to make eye contact with you.

“I won’t cause you any harm, I promise. Look at me, fair elf. Look me in my eyes.”

Slowly, you lifted your head and connected with his shining brown eyes. They had a certain twinkle to them, that only made them stand out even more. You fell even more in love with him just by looking into his soft and gracious brown eyes. They were the eyes of love, hope, and wonder.

Edmund gave you a wide smile.

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered, moving his hand forward to tuck away some brown hair that had fallen around your face.

“You’re even more beautiful when I can see your face.” he commented, the both of you blushing and giggling shyly.

“Thank you, your highness.” you muttered shyly.

Edmund suddenly took both of your hands and brought the both of you to your feet. His eyes became filled with love and wonder as they stared at you. 

“It is most strange. I know not of your name, but regardless, I have hopelessly fallen for you…and I want to know more about you.”

You gasped and your cheeks turned even more pink, his hands intertwined with your fingers and held your hands firmly.

“Will you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to dinner tonight? I’m sure my sister Lucy would very much enjoy your presence.” he said with a hopeful smile.

You smiled and was about to say yes when you remembered. 

You’re a servant.

Servants don’t fall in love with their masters. 

You let go of his hands and turned away. Your head slightly bowed in sadness.

“It’s not right.” you said sadly, “I’m a servant. I do not belong in your world. I am not worthy of such company by you.”

Edmund’s eyes widened as he walked to face you. 

His hands were gently placed on your arms.

“No, no, no.” he said in a soft voice, “That is not true. You may be a servant, but you are the most beautiful servant there is and the only one worthy of my company.”

Your head shot up to meet his, your lips slightly parted.

“Join me for dinner tonight.” he whispered, “Please.”

You blinked a few times and looked at him. Edmund was serious, you could definitely see that now. You just couldn’t believe that he would want to be in involved in such a romantic way with you.

But regardless, you accepted his invitation and nodded eagerly.

“Alright then, I’ll join you for dinner, your highness.”

Edmund smiled before taking one of your hands and kissing it softly, keeping eye contact with you.

“I’m delighted.” he said, “I will send someone up to dress you in appropriate clothing. You will look most beautiful of them all tonight.”

You blushed and nodded as he walked away.

But just as he was about to climb the stairs, he looked back at you.

“Call me Edmund, beautiful.” he said as he jogged up the stairs to search for his brother, leaving you swooning over the handsome man that was King Edmund.  

21 Days (1/4)

Sehun I Angst, Romance, Mild Smut (in later parts) I 1,763 words

When your older brother got in trouble you didn’t think you would become the collateral damage in such situation, but somehow you did and who would have thought there would be someone to repair the damage his people have caused piece by piece.

Please read the author’s note at the end. It’s very important!


19 Hours before the kidnapping

‘You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep acting this way!’

Heavy breathing and frustrated sighs resounded from the wall of the small living room as you glared at each other from different sides of the room.

'Why don’t you understand that this is the only option we have right no?!’ Jaehyun, your older brother by five years yelled back at you, his voice husky from all the shouts you two had exchanged in the past twenty minutes. 'This is the only way I can take care of you okay?!’

You bit down on your lower lip harshly, fighting back your tears and cries of desperation that were threatening to escape. 'There are other options and every single one of them is better that your interactions with these guys, Jaehyun.’

With a small bitter laugh, he crossed his muscular arms in front of his broad chest. 'Pumpkin, I am a 24-year-old sentenced delinquent who has spent one and a half years of his life behind bars. Furthermore, I didn’t graduate from university and nor do I have a proper schooling in something. So tell me, what exactly are these options you were talking about?’

'First of all-’ You began to respond, although you were more that aware that you stated the cruel yet undeniable facts. 'You had been falsely accused back then and-’

'That doesn’t matter,’ He interrupted you halfway through your weak argument. 'I’ve been sentenced anyways, which is the first and only thing employers find out about me.’ Jaehyun had never been an optimist, yet nor had he ever been a pessimist. He had always been a realist, accepting the reality with all its cruelty.

You, on the other hand, had always been a dreamer and optimist, denying the reality as much as possible. 'But it’s still not too late to go to university, if you graduate from university you would have way more possibilities.’ Inhaling exhaustively, you let yourself fall onto the old worn-out couch. 'For God’s sake, Jaehyun, you’re a clever guy. Any university would be lucky to have you. You could do so much more with your intelligence.’

'For the last time, y/n!’ He growled and kicked against a wooden chair angrily. It was with enough force to completely destroy the cheap item. Yet, you  weren’t startled in the slightest you’ve had always had the talent to make your always calm and  well-balanced brother loose his temper. 'My intelligence won’t pay for your freaking expensive medication! The medication that makes this fight between us even possible, because it protects you from freaking dying, you little Idiot. Goddammit!’

Well, now that took you off guard for sure.


9 Hours before the kidnapping

Silently Jaehyun and you sat at the small kitchen table, eating your breakfast without exchanging a single word. After yesterday’s argument, he had simply given you a light kiss on the forehead and sent you to bed , saying that he would do the same. But you weren’t stupid like that and nor were you deaf since you heard the sound of the front door closing very clearly as he left the apartment to do his 'deliveries’. Yet, you stayed quiet about it, not wanting to break off another fight.

'You should really iron your uniform.’ Jaehyun’s random statement broke the heavy silence lingering between the both of you suddenly. His eyes fixed on his hands, obviously avoiding to make I contact with you.

Confused you looked down where the over-sized crinkly white blouse and the crinkly beige skirt were hugging your body in all their glory. Your brother had purposely bought you a uniform that one or two sizes too big in case you would 'grow some more’, but there hadn’t been much growing ever since.

With a sly smirk on your lips, you got up from your seat. 'You call it crinkly. I call it fashion.’ You stated with fake pride, successfully making him laugh since he knew very well that you did not give a single damn about fashion.

'I’ll get on my way to school now. Take care, Idiot.’


The Kidnapping

'Wanna go to that Kimbap place I told you about earlier?’ Jisoo, your best friend and besides Jaehyun the most important person in your life, asked.

'I’d love to, but I have to the hospital for some checkups.’ You explained disappointed, giving the shorter girl a small apologetic smile.

She simply said that you would to that another time, as you said your goodbyes and parted ways. Sighing guiltily, you looked after her for a short moment. You hated lying to her, but only this excuse didn’t make her feel bad for you, so you preferred using that little lie rather than stating that money was more than low at the moment.

Pushing you guilty thought aside, you made your way home as well.

'Um excuse me, Miss?’ A young man, appearing to be in his late twenties stopped you as you were about to walk into an alley that leads to your home. 'Do you have a minute by any chance?’

'Of course, what can I do for-’ You stopped talking abruptly and your eyes widened in terror when you caught glimpse of a Glock that was poorly hidden under his pitch-black jacket. ’Minute’s over.’

Taking him by surprise, you landed a well-calculated kick right against is sternum that made him stumble backward and drop to the cold ground harshly while clutching his chest in agony. But before you even had the chance to start running away from the danger another pair of strong arms circled around your shoulders and pulled you backward forcefully. 'Let go of me or I will end-’ Your screams were cut off by a large sweaty hand that clutched over your mouth, successfully muffling your shout and curses.

'Just get the anesthetics, Hongseok, will you?’ Clawing and hitting against the stranger’s arms keeping you captive, the seriousness of the situation kicked in. These guys weren’t joking around which meant you were in serious trouble.

When the other man, Hongseok, slowly got up again and pulled out a small see-through case with a single syringe in it, it was a rather easy task to conclude who it was meant for. You’re eyes were silently begging the stranger to stop as he was stepping closer towards your trembling form and flailed weak kicks towards him.

You had never been one to give up easily, but when the burning sensation of the injected anesthetics spread through your neck and you felt the numbness taking over, you had to somewhat accept your failure.

At least for now.


7 Hours after the Kidnapping I Day 1

'She hasn’t woken up yet, sir. I’ll inform you when she does…Yes, I understand.’

A deep raspy voice pulled you out of the darkness, out of the frightening nothingness that had held you captive, and back into consciousness. Tortuously slow you came back to your senses, slowly gaining back the control over your sore and exhausted limbs. Carefully you attempted to open your eyes, but as soon as you had lifted your heavy eyelids they dropped back down. You had to give it a couple of tries until  you finally succeeded in keeping your burning eyes open. In fear you held onto to the firm material of your skirt, as you looked around carefully, taking in the environment.

A dim light was illuminating the classic looking furniture in the large room, with high walls and large windows. You were laying on a couch. A couch that appeared to be worth more that everything in your home combined.

'Sir, I think she’s awake.’ You heard the deep masculine voice again as your breathing became more and more uneven with every passing second. A large soft hand gently grabbed the back of your neck and helped you into an upright position, before you even had the chance to react and stop him.

The stranger let himself fall onto the couch table right in front of you and suddenly you were face to face with a young raven-haired man that gave you a sympathetic yet somewhat cold smile.

Still trying to progress everything that was going on at the moment, you just stared numbly at the young man who was wordlessly looking back at you with his dark brown eyes.

He was tall, had broad shoulders, a torso with a broad chest yet rather a slim waist that connected to his small hips and long slim legs clothed in simple black jeans. The soft features of his handsome face were an odd contrast to his sharp defined jawline and in general, his face had something oddly soothing to it.

'y/n, isn’t it?’ He broke the tensed silence, his eyes never leaving yours. 'I would tell that it’s nice to meet you, but that wouldn’t really be appropriate, now would it?’

Your terrified face was his only answer.

Nervously you looked down to your hands that were cuffed, a detail that you hadn’t noticed yet. Your thoughts were running through your mind at remarkable speed, trying to find a way to get you out of the situation.

As if he was attempting to do some small talk he kept talking. 'I must say, you and Jaehyun really look alike.’ His words took you by surprise, but at the same time, they gave you at least one hint to figure things out.

He knew your brother, which meant he was for sure part of that organization Jaehyun was working for. And that could only mean one thing your brother was in serious trouble and the same regarded you.

'What no screaming, no attempts of running away?’ His sarcastic tone ripped you out of your thoughts once again and as you looked up at him again he raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows in mockery.

Clenching your fists in anger, you gave him a sweet smile. 'Oh, I’m sorry this is my first kidnapping. Hopefully, I will do better next time to meet your expectations.’ You returned with even more sarcasm, but as soon as the confidence came it left you when you came back to your senses. One thin was for sure, you were in no position to give them a taste of your attitude.

The man tried to cover his laughter with a cough. 'A sassy one, aren’t you?’

Do not answer. Keep quiet, you told yourself, trying to figure out what to do, when an unfamiliar voice appeared all of the sudden.

'Sehun, what’s taking you so long. We gotta go now, man.’


A/N As you guys might have noticed, this story builds upon a kidnapping, but I feel like I have to state a couple of things before I’ll publish the next parts. This story won’t include Stockholm Syndrome because I am against it to write such a horrible thing as romantic. Nor will it include Abuse, because once again that is simply horrible and not romantic. The story will include violence, but not from Sehun towards the reader. To conclude, the reader won’t fall in love with her abuser and Sehun isn’t an abuser.

See this chapter as a little introduction to the actual story and anticipate a lot of Sehun x Reader interactions in the following much longer parts. 

Other than that I got nothing more to say than I hope you enjoyed the first part and stay tuned for what coming next.

Leftovers - A Gravity Falls Fanfiction

This is my Secret Santa gift to @whatwouldfestivealphonsedo. Enjoy!


“Come on kids, it’s alright…”

Mabel opened her eyes, slowly becoming aware that she was being carried. Every part of her body was sore, and as she stared over a tan shoulder she could see the scarred landscape bobbing around.  It was too much effort; her tired eyelids shut themselves again. With a groan she tried to rouse herself.

“There now.” It was Ford. He patted her back. “It’s alright.”

“What happened?” She managed to slur out.

“It’s over.”

Mabel tried again to look. Sure enough, the technicolor sky had changed to grey, flaked with white and blue, and the Fearamid had vanished.  The gaping portal to the Nightmare Realm had healed over.

“It’s…we…”

“We did it, Mabel.” She managed to turn her head, and could just make out a tired smile on his face.

“Dip…where’s Dipper?”

“Stan, hold up.” Ford quickened his pace until he found himself alongside his brother. Mabel saw Dipper in his arms. The boy could barely focus his eyes, but he was stirring. Mabel immediately relaxed.

“Hey Dip-Dop,” she reached out and nudged him with her foot. “Not lookin’ so good…” With a soft laugh, she dropped her head on Ford’s shoulder and let sleep overtake her.

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gottagofastbitch  asked:

Can you do one where sansa sees jons scars amd kisses them. Smut preferable. I know im sending like 100 requests but i NEED this

I didn’t add smut, sorry about that, but I did the kisses! 

**

Sansa hadn’t meant to enter as she had, nor had she expected to see what stood before her. She had mistaken his grunts for her entrance, waltzing into his chambers without a second thought. Truly, it was a mistake and immediately felt her mouth drop open.

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