she is not your pretty little bird

Cute Bus Stop Guy

Sterek, Teen, 2K words, Meet Cute AU


Stiles groaned and took a very long swig from his travel coffee mug as he hitched his messenger bag up higher on his shoulder. It was barely eight in the morning, and consequently, he could barely keep his eyes open. He was a grad student for fuck’s sake, and it was understood that in order to make up for the shitty stipend and the whole working-around-the-clock thing, he got to sleep in until 10. At least. After all, if he was up until 3 working, it was only fair. But noooo, his advisor—fuck you, Finstock—had insisted on an early meeting today.

He passed the bus stop and realized that at least he was lucky in that he lived close enough to campus that he could walk instead of dealing with public transportation at rush hour. Small condolences, really, though.

He yawned and accidentally bumped into someone walking past him. Stiles tried to apologize, but the word got stuck in his throat when he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of the person he’d nearly knocked over. He was about Stiles’ height but bigger, all broad shoulders and muscles capped off by really great hair and an unfairly attractive face. “Uh.”

The guy gave him a curt little nod and neatly sidestepped him, continuing on his way. Stiles snuck a look over his shoulder, and yep, the rear view in those tight slacks was pretty good, too. The guy stopped at the bus stop, leaning against the sign, and Stiles sighed. It was a dreamy sigh, even he could admit that.

He had a feeling he was going to become a morning person.

Keep reading

My Best Friend’s Sister (Part 1)

Originally posted by rayna-tw

Summary: When the reader moves up to Vancouver for her new writing job, she never realized who her neighbor would end up being…

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x reader (with sibling!Jared)

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, sibling issues

A/N: Not sure where this really came from (I’d love a big brother like Jared irl) but I was feeling the flangst today…


Keep reading

It’s Really You

Request: “HiI have a request in mind, but you do not want to do it, no problem. You can make a shy reader who does not have many friends until you find a Pennywise and they become best friends.”

&

“OK ,how about this … The reader thinks penny is her imaginary friend ,then when people tell her that those don’t exist she tells penny to go away ,and 27 years later after his “sleep” he decides to see how she is doing and she realizes he is real“

Pairing: Pennywise x Reader

Warnings: Henry Bowers (I think that’s pretty self explanatory lol)

A/N: I decided to combine both requests together and instead of Pennywise waking up 27 years later the reader will be 5 years old and when she sees him again 10 years later she will be 15.

It was spring and boy were the springs in Derry pretty amazing. Flowers blossomed, rain poured, birds chirped and the grass grew rapidly. You were currently at the park just down the street from your house. Your mother was at work so it was just you and your father at the park. He was watching you as he read a magazine while he sipped his afternoon coffee.

You noticed a figure behind a tree, you had flowers in your hand that you were planning to give your mother but your curiosity made you drop them. Your little 5 year old legs sped off approaching the tree quickly going behind it to see who the figure was. Your dad assumed that you wanted better flowers so he brushed it off.

There stood someone in a big white fluffy costume with big orange pom poms on them. But you couldn’t see their face they were hiding it behind a pyramid of red balloons. You were extremely curious but you were also debating if you should talk to the stranger. Without thinking you decided to speak up.

“Don’t be afraid show your face.” You said.

“I am not afraid.” The voice said. 

He let go of the balloons and that’s when you noticed, he was a clown with white and red face paint on. His fiery orange hair was the feature that stuck out to you the most and the fact that he was really tall.

“Hello Mr. ClownMan!” You said excitedly.

“Hiya darling would you like a balloon?” He asked bending down to your height.

You nodded excitedly as he made a balloon appear from thin air. You giggled happily as you took it. 

What the hell was happening to him? Something like this never happened to Pennywise, if you were any other child you would have been dead by now and in his guts. He felt a warm feeling as if he was growing fond of you. But why why was this even happening?

“Thank you umm-” You struggled wondering what his name was.

“I’m Pennywise The Dancing Clown.” The clown introduced himself. 

Keep reading

4

I could keep you s a f e. They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them. || And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood there in my white cloak and let them beat her. I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I s h o u l d have. (x)

Gendry: I hang out with your sister Arya.

The Hound: I hang out with both your sisters. Arya and San-

Davos: don’t do it! Don’t say it!

The Hound: Sansa? The Pretty Little Talking Bird? Aye. I told Arya that she sang for me. Your sister sang me a sweet little song.

Jon: the fuck are you talking about? Say that again?!

Davos: Warned you.

6

regardless of whether or not she is able to regenerate, it’s gotta be a little traumatic to see your bird mom get stabbed through the chest. He canonically had flashbacks about it. I know this is way back in the beginning of season one but I can’t stop thinking about it I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT BIRD MOM

(Psst also Square Mom and Purple Mom)

arwenxs  asked:

Hi! For the prompts, I don't know if you've done this before, but what about a Tony Stark advises for the young avengers? Because I really love the RDJ advises so I think that might be cool.

I SO FELL IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OMG I DECIDED I COULD NOT WAIT TO POST IT.

Also I interpreted “Young Avengers” as his new young Avengers, not the Young Avengers™ who don’t have a book right now. That may have been wrong, sorry D:

Title: Tony Stark Advises the Avengers
Rating: PG
Summary: Somehow, Tony Stark ended up Team Dad.
Notes: This is set nominally in the 616, where Ms. Marvel (Kamala Khan), Nova (Sam Alexander), and Spider-man (Miles Morales) are half of an Avengers team with Iron Man (Tony Stark), Captain America (Sam Wilson), and Thor (Jane Foster). 
More Notes: There is a text version following the image version for people who need plain text. Sorry there are two guys on this team named Sam, it’s not my fault. 

***

Ms. Marvel

(Image super heavy under the cut)

Keep reading

Preference: Game of Thrones - What They Call you

Robb Stark: For Robbie he would always call you ‘My Queen’ both in public and in private. He loves to remind everybody how you are ‘belong’ only to him and have such an important status above everyone else.Jon Snow: Jon always calls you his ‘love’ since every time he sees you that is all he is filled with. Your too precious for him to lose to anybody so he doesn’t mind using you nickname in front of other people.

Jon Snow: Jon always calls you his ‘love’ since every time he sees you that is all he is filled with. Your too precious for him to lose to anybody so he doesn’t mind using you nickname in front of other people.

Jaime Lannister: He loves to call you ‘darling’ as he thinks it sounds pretty grand and has a nice ring to it. He always drops it in casually when talking to you in public, but when your alone he’ll whisper it lowly in your ear, his hands running over your hips.

Sandor Clegane: ‘Little bird’ is what Sandor calls you, since that’s most likely what you remind him of – gentle, innocent and always wanting to fly away. He tries not to be too intimate or sappy when calling you it, even though his eyes always turn to goo.

Ramsay Snow/Bolton: Ramsay would call you his ‘baby girl’ or ‘baby doll’ since he’s a pretty kinky dude. He wouldn’t care about embarrassing others by calling you it in public either, and would probably enjoy their discomfort.

Cersei Lannister: In typical Cersei fashion she always calls you ‘dove’ but not in the mocking and manipulative way she used it on others. For you it is because when she looks at you all she sees is purity, innocence and beauty.

Margaery Tyrell: Margaery loves to call you ‘sweetie’ and sometimes in quite a teasing manner. She’ll place a gentle hand on yours and give you a soft, loving smile when she says it, enjoying the blush that rises to your cheeks.

Sansa Stark: Sansa likes calling you a range of different things and finds it hard to settle on one nickname. She likes calling you her love as it’s simple and fitting, yet she likes to try out a number of other names, such as ‘princess’, ‘honey’ and ‘lemon-cake’

Protect You - Sandor Clegane

Y/N Stark was much like her father; brave and honorable as Ned himself. One day, that bravery gets her into trouble and an unlikely partnership is formed.

Warnings : Cursing, the reader being beat like Sansa in the second season.

A/N : not much fluff, not going to do a part two. This was just something I had an idea for. 

Originally posted by justasyou-are

Being a Stark, you found it hard to bite your tongue in the moments you needed to most. Those moments had become all too common since you and your sister, Sansa Stark, were trapped in King’s Landing. The palace was full of people, waiting and watching for your next move. Sansa soon caught on, playing for her survival in the Red Keep.

She wore her hair like a true southern lady, while you still adorned the simplistic style of the North. You could still remember how your sister wore her hair the day you both thought your father would be sent to The Wall. You could still remember the way Sansa’s hair looked after she had fainted, dizzy from the view of your father’s execution.

Eddard was the one who taught you right from wrong, holding honor above all gain. So when you were surrounded by lions and little birds that tore down these very values, it was hard to remain collected. Even more hard when Joffrey was the one crashing through with violence.

“Leave her face,” he spat, “I like her pretty.” As soon as the word left your mouth, you darted towards your sister. Before you could reach her, you felt someone grab a hold of your arm. Twisting and turning, you tired to free yourself from the man holding you.

“Don’t fight, lass,” a low voice said in your ear, “you’ll only get it worse.” Despite the man’s warning, you managed to free yourself of his hold just in time. Right when Meryn Trant was about to strike your sister, you jumped in the way. The Kingsguard member’s heavily armoured hand came down on your cheek at full force.

The court gasped as you fell to the ground near Sansa. The iron taste of blood pooled in your mouth as your head rung in pain. You glanced up at Trant, who was looking to the boy King for guidance. You took the quick moment to look over at the man who tried to stop you.

The Hound’s fists were curled and you didn’t have to look to feel his rage. His dark eyes were glued on Trant. His gaze only shifting when he felt your eyes on him. He had caught you staring at him many times before; but this time was different. Normally, your stolen glances were soft, almost affectionate. You knew Sansa’s distaste of Sandor Clegane, but you found him to be intriguing more than frightening. This look, the fury on his face, was different.

“Well, keep going You can carve her face all you like,” Joffrey sneered. Your eyes flicked away from The Hound’s, glaring over at the blond King. Before you could snap at him, you felt one of Trant’s hands ripping at your gown. The grey fabric fell away and you tried your best to hold what you could in place. When he saw this, Meryn kicked at your ribs and legs. The air left your lungs at the strike and you leaned against the floor for support.

Amongst Sansa’s cries, you heard the sound of the door of the Keep opening. Meryn’s assault wavered as the crowd parted.

“What is the meaning of this?! Stop this at once! Someone, cover her!” You recognized Lord Tyrion’s voice, causing you to look up. The youngest Lannister traveled up the steps to scold his nephew as Meryn Trant moved away from your line of vision.

Sansa moved over to you, trying to help as much as she could.

“That was stupid,” she whispered through her tears, “really stupid.”

“It’s what father would’ve done,” you managed to let out. Your words stopped Sansa’s movements, her blue eyes meeting your Stark grey ones. Before either of you could speak, you felt something warm and heavy land across your shoulders.

“C’mon,” said Sandor, extending a hand to you. You took it graciously and stood on your wobbly feet. The Hound moved his arm so you were steady in his grip. Soon after, Sansa stood as well, and started to walk with you and The Hound out of the courtroom. When you turned your head to glance at her, you noticed that she was speaking to Lord Tyrion. You jerked towards her, but Sandor held you still.

“The Imp won’t let her hurt,” he said quietly. He continued to lead you out of the room, away from the ears and eyes of the court. When you were in the empty hallway leading to your chambers, you felt Sandor’s arm tighten around you.

“Thank you, Clegane,” you murmured. The Hound only nodded as he lead you to your room. He pushed your door open and lead you inside. You hobbled over to your bed and Sandor helped you sit on the edge of the feather mattress.

“I’ll get a maester for ya,” he said, moving his arm away from you. You met his gaze, his dark eyes landing on your face. Sandor’s face fell at the sight, his gloved hand lifting as if to brush against your unbruised cheek. Before he could, he thought better of it and let his hand fall back to his side.

“I’ll kill the whiny cunt,“ he spat suddenly, his hand curling back into a tight fist. You reached forwards slightly, grabbing his closed fist. The cool metal of his armoured glove sent tingles under your skin, taking your mind off the pain for a moment.

“Don’t Sandor,” he perked up at the sound of his name coming off your lips. The Stark’s had just called him The Hound, looking down on what scrap of honor he had left. Maybe those look he caught meant something more. “He will pay in other ways,” you continued, “the gods will do their justice.”

“Fuck the gods,” he hissed, his fist uncurling in you palm. “I’d protect ya better than any of the gods.” His words hung in the air, the two of you unable to process what he had said. You held his deep brown eyes, which, for a moment, seemed fearful. Perhaps scared of what he had just said. Before you could make a comment on it, Sandor pulled his hand away.

“I will,” he said coldly. You nodded at him, understanding what that meant. The man everyone feared to look at had promised to protect you in that moment. Without another word, The Hound walked out of your room, leaving you alone to your thoughts.

His thoughts however, were loud and unforgiving. He had had enough of the Lannister’s brutality. Hurting an innocent girl like Y/N Stark was the last straw for him. He felt hate coursing through his veins; and hate was a flame Sandor had been burned by many years before. By now, the dog was used to it’s blazing heat.

Imagine mornings with Chris.

A/N: Hey hey, I told you there was no break. I hope you’re excited to read Chapter 5, ‘cause I’m really excited for y'all to read it! 😁 You can read the related mini-series and the previous parts here: (Mini-series - Masterlist; Mini-series Spin-off: ‘Unexpected Reader’, 'Little Ways Away’, 'She Said Yes’, and 'Miss Graduate’ - Masterlist)

Birds chirped outside the bedroom window as the sun rose over the horizon, arousing Chris from his sleep. He lifted his head and looked at the clock hanging on the wall, groaning when he realized it was only 6:03AM. His head fell back on his pillow and he turned towards you. Just as he was about to succumb to sleep again, he caught your pretty face in his sight and he decided he’d much rather watch you sleep. He tucked his hand under his face and smiled at the memory of how last night was spent. There was pizza by the fireplace while the two of you discussed and planned wedding details, and after- well, dessert, sweet kisses, and then some. It came as no surprise that things between the two of you when it came to romance and bedroom activities had doubled since you started planning the wedding; the post-engagement glow that had been put on the back burner had resurfaced now that the wedding was actually happening. Man, oh man, were things between you and Chris better than ever.

Chris reached his hand forward and gently pushed your hair out of your face, whispering softly, “not long now, Y/N.” He leaned forward and gently kissed your forehead before settling back in his original position, admiring his future bride with a great deal of satisfaction.

You woke shortly after he did due to his soft whispering and tender actions, you peeked at him and bit back your smile when you saw him smiling at you. “I know you’re my fiancé and you love me, but it doesn’t make waking up to your staring any less creepy.” You teased and he chuckled, turning onto his back with his head still facing you. “What time is it?” You asked mid yawn, stretching out your limbs.

“Time to get started on our day, I suppose.” He rested one hand on his chest and he yawned when he saw you yawn again. “Didn’t you say we’ve got wedding cakes to taste today?” He quizzed and you sighed, noising confirmation. “What’s with the sigh?” He chuckled. “We’re going to four of the best bakeries in Los Angeles to eat cake, all kinds of cake. If you ask me, I think it’s going to be a very yummy day.”

“I know it is,” you sighed again as you sat up. You remembered how excited you were when you told Chris about the cake tasting plans, you stomach practically growled when you saw the email responses from each bakery. But for some unknown reason, you weren’t excited now. In fact, just thinking about tasting cake- any kind of cake- made you feel like hurling. “But- I don’t know, Chris,” you turned back to him and he sat up, looking concerned. “I feel weird, I’m just-” you licked your dry lips. “I don’t really feel like cake.”

“That’s okay,” his hand rubbed your back soothingly. “You don’t have to eat much, just a bite of each.” As soon as he suggested that, you felt yourself make a face. Your mouth became dry and your cheeks and jaw sore, like it was preparing you to puke. “That is- um,” he chuckled then pursed his lips together at your expression. “That is not a face you want to see before you taste cakes.” Every time he said the word 'cake’, you felt your stomach churn. “Do you want me to call the bakeries and postpone the cake tasting?”

“Please stop saying the word 'cake’,” you begged as you were starting to feel a little lightheaded just thinking about what your day was going to be like. “And no, because we can’t postpone. We have so much to do and so little time, we can’t afford to lose this meeting. It’s already the middle of July, Chris, and we haven’t even gotten quarter of the way through the list. You haven’t even sorted out your wedding party, you’ve just got Scott and Sebastian so far.”

“To be fair, neither have you.” He pointed out then winced at your deadpan expression. “What? I’m just saying you’ve only got Ava as your maid of honor, so technically- I’m ahead by one person.” You grabbed your pillow and whacked him with it, making him laugh and yourself smile. “Relax, we’ve got plenty of time. On the bright side, our band is sorted already.” Your smile widened as you shook your head. That was such a tactic, every time you looked like you were about to flip out he’d remind you that, “Ed Sheeran is coming to sing for us” knowing very well it’d calm you.

“In my defense, I don’t have a lot of girl friends. I’ve got Ava, and Corrie- who’s living in Japan. She said she’ll attend the wedding, but she can’t be apart of the bridal party 'cause work has got her pretty tied up. Then there’s my brother’s ex-girlfriend, Isabelle, who I should have known better than to grow close with. It’s not like I can invite her to the wedding, do we want a huge cat fight between his ex and his current?” You asked then answered yourself, “no, we do not.” You ran a hand through your hair, wishing you could just have Ava and not a whole party. “Do you think Carly and Shanna would be apart of my bridal party if I asked?”

“Of course, baby. They love you and they’d be more than happy to be your bridesmaids.” He smiled when you smiled. “I’ll even let you have Tara if you want, I don’t need to get her to be a grooms-woman. I think she’d have a much better time with you ladies.” You smiled, kissing his cheek. “So relax, okay?” He took your hand and squeezed it. “Bridal party or not, we’re still going to get married. And if things get too chaotic, we do what Jim and Pam did in The Office. Okay?”

“Okay,” you giggled.

“Okay,” he chuckled and pulled his hand away, climbing out of bed. “I’m going to go get cleaned up first so I can sort Dodger’s breakfast out while you do your thing, then we can head out for the day.  I think we can skip breakfast considering you look like you can barely handle a bite of cake.” You nodded in agreement as he headed for the ensuite. “Okay then,” he glanced back at you, smiling. “We’ve got our game plan, now let’s hustle.”

“I can’t do anything until you finish up in there,” you reminded him, laying back down.

“I know, but don’t fall asleep,” he teasingly warned before he closed the ensuite door behind him.

The second the shower started running, he started singing. You smiled, letting your eyelids close. But before you could let yourself drift off, Dodger came barreling in and pounced on you. “Dodger!” You laughed when he licked your face. “Oh my God, stop!” You squirmed under him, laughing hysterically as he continued to attack your face with kisses. “Oh bud,” you ran a hand over his head, smiling when he stopped to look at you with a tilted head. “Aren’t you a romantic? Giving me kisses so early in the morning.”

Dodger barked in your face, causing you to flinch then laugh. He settled in front of you and gently rested his head on your belly. You smiled and stroked his fur, from his head to his tail. He was a handsome one, that boy, and such a sweet and protective fella; much like Chris. You sat up and leaned forward, kissing the top of his head. Chris came out of the steamy bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, smiling when he saw you and Dodger.

“Forgot my underwear,” he told you then was about to walk over to scratch Dodger’s head when Dodger lifted his head and growled at him. “Whoa, bud,” he stopped in his tracks and held up his hands in surrender. “What’s with him?” He asked you and you shrugged with furrowed brows, kissing Dodger’s head as he settled his head back on your belly. “I see how it is, a pretty girl comes into our lives and you turn on me?” You laughed, playing with Dodger’s ears. “Fine, be that way. Don’t come to me when you want to go on a run, she won’t take you running.”

“I can take him walking,” you defended your distaste of running. “Can’t I, bud?” You cooed in Dodger’s face and he licked your cheek. “Don’t be jealous, babe.” You teased Chris when he squinted at the both of you evilly. “You know we’ve got love in our hearts for you, slightly deeper down.” You laughed when he rolled his eyes, walking back into the ensuite and closing the door behind him. “He’s such a baby,” you whispered into Dodger’s ear, giggling. “I am so glad I’ve got you, I wouldn’t know how to handle him on my own.”

Dodger nudged his nose into your hand and you smiled, scratching his head. You loved Dodger as much as you loved Chris, sometimes more than you loved Chris because he’d never do anything to annoy or piss you off. Chris knew this and he used Dodger to his advantage when he got into fights with you, tying notes to Dodger’s collar and sending him to find you. It was pretty cute and you always cracked after seeing Dodger’s adorable face. But then again, it didn’t take long for you to crack at Chris’ adorable face either. You were weak when it came to those two, just like Chris was weak when it came to the two of you.

It would be interesting to see what would happen when the time came for the two of you to become parents. You always saw yourself as the bad cop to Chris’ good cop when you wrote, you both agreed he’d be a pushover when your first child came along. Be it a little man or a little princess- he’d waited too long for a child to be strict with him or her. You’d most likely have to be the one to do the disciplining, though knowing your soft heart- you wouldn’t be able to be the strict and authoritative parent you’d imagined yourself to be. But that was a long way down the road, not something either of you had to worry about now. Now, the only child you had to worry about was your fiancé because even Dodger was more mature than Chris. Chris, who was once again walking out of the steamy bathroom with just a towel, because he’d realized the pair of underwear he’d taken was yours and not his.

“Nice hair,” you commented, trying not to laugh at Chris’ wet and deliberately spiked up hair; the kind of hairstyle you’d do to a two year old when you gave them a bath. He winked and reentered the bathroom, closing the door behind him again. “So much more mature,” you chuckled into Dodger’s fur when you gave him another kiss.

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @imaginesofdreams  @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @heartblackerthancoffee @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @dreamingintheimpalawithdean  @rileyloves5 @buckys-shield @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @castellandiangelo  @edward-lover18 @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @tacohead13 @badassbaker @pegasusdragontiger @sfreeborn @dorisagent101 @aekr @imagine-cats96 @adeptkillsyasse @shliic @justanotherfangurlz @winchesterandpie @creativeheartgemini @camerica96 @thestarlighthotel @sf0206 (I’ve kept the original taglist which I will utilize when I’m back on one shots, but seeing as I’m working on the series now- I’ll just be tagging those I notice follow the series. Let me know if I left you out and I’ll add you back in.)


Part 2

Ten Years (Part 1)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,327

Warnings: language, snark, memories of cheaters

A/N: I have no words. Bucky Barnes continues to keep my attention. Hopefully you guys like this!

Part: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Originally posted by stuckwithbuck

Keep reading

astro: Home

if astro were things that felt like home, mj would be the wind chimes. he’s the soft ringing of the bells in the gentle breeze, humming its favourite tune when you slide the windows open. he’s the playful flutter of curtains dancing in the sun and the crackling of the old radio singing his favourite love songs, and the way you’d dance and hum along to the melody as you go about with your chores.

jinjin would be the paintings that hang on your walls. he’s the one with the sea painted a soft, calm blue and the other a house covered in snow. he’s all the picture frames holding your best memories, and the polaroids you’ve scribbled on and hung on a flimsy red string. jinjin is also the feeling of sleeping in on a saturday morning, where your tired bones sigh in relief and you finally get to breathe.

eunwoo is your old bookshelf standing tall and proud in your room. he’s every book lined up neatly on your little wooden shelves, paperbacks worn and happy from being read many times over. he’s also the notes and stationaries strewn across the desk tucked in a corner, pushed up against the wall right underneath your window. eunwoo is every post it you’ve slapped onto your walls and every scribble you’ve made in blue and red ink, and the forgotten cup of coffee that had gone cold as you work away diligently.

moonbin would be the glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across your ceiling, and the light from the moon or street lamps shining in faintly through your windows. he’s the crack in the door your mother used to always leave open for you, the slither of light that falls across your sheets and the sense of security that it gives you. he’s the murmur of a goodnight’s kiss and the quiet whispers on nights you wake up from a bad dream.

rocky is the feeling of wrapping up in warm blankets on cold, rainy mornings. he’s the cup of hot chocolate you cradle in your palms as you watch movies and wiggle your toes, tucked into a corner of the couch, warm and cosy and peaceful. he’s the smell of your mother’s cooking wafting through the walls of your home and the smile she gives you when you peek into the kitchen. rocky is the cheeky grin you give when you steal a bite and manage to get away with it.

sanha is the laughter that fills in the gaps and the lull of conversation in the air. he’s the doodles on fogged up windows where you make raindrops race, and the flowers arranged randomly in pretty flower vases. sanha is the chirping of baby birds greeting you good morning and the bunch of old plushies on your bed you refuse to throw out, and the secret box you keep little odds and ends in tucked away in your closet.

if astro were things that felt like home–

what am i talking about? they already make me feel at home with the way they just are.

prompt no. 252

She circled her hand over the back of the eight month old, whose face had turned bright red from crying. “Kiddo…”

hello everyone! here is a fluffy modern au of jamie and claire with a wee bree for your enjoyment; hopefully it is as fun to read as it was to write!

as always, a massive thank you and lots of love to my amazing tss girls, and ENDLESS amounts of love and thanks to all of you, who have made this amazing blog possible (and so much fun!), we really couldn’t do it without you. it’s hard to believe we’ve nearly hit 300 followers already! you all continue to astound us. 

xoxo, the teeniest bairn [ @cagedbirdsong ]


She circled her hand over the back of the eight month old, whose face had turned bright red from crying. “Kiddo…” Claire cupped her hand at the back of Brianna’s head, bouncing her gently. “Come on, sweetheart, please stop crying for Mummy. You have a clean diaper, and your belly’s full. Why are you so upset?”

Brianna wailed into her shoulder in response, hiccuping in distress and beating her tiny fists against her mother’s collarbones. “Maaaaaaaaaaa,” she whimpered, sniffling.

Keep reading

twenty-four.

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk / Reader.

Genre: Parents AU with too much fluff.

Count: 1,059 words.


The morning invades the bedroom through the window pane, basking all that lays within in a shade of gold that melts the furniture to be indecipherable from the floorboards, limbs becoming one with the crisp white bed sheets. Everything moulds into a sole conglomeration of yellow in the blur of your lethargic vision, still waking, opening to another new day, a twenty-four hours of the kind of repetition that you adore. Live for. You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, ridding of the sleep that still remains tucked and cosy within the corners, the haze eventually clearing to find your own corneas staring back at you in a face of four.

The tiny bird wriggles, speaks. “Morning, Mama.”

Keep reading

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart

(gifs are not mine)

PAIRNG: Dean x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2395

CHARACTERS: Reader, Sam, Dean, Cas, Gwen (OFC)

WARNINGS: None. Let me know if there are any, I’m really bad at warnings.

A/N: Hey, so as tomorrow (September 19) it’s my birthday, I wanted to give myself a birthday present, and here it is. At first I thought I should’ve make a personalized fic, but I wanted all of you to enjoy it. Thanks as always for reading and remember feedback is welcome


PAIRNG: Dean x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2395

CHARACTERS: Reader, Sam, Dean, Cas, Gwen (OFC)

WARNINGS: None. Let me know if there are any, I’m really bad at warnings.

A/N: Hey, so as tomorrow (September 19) it’s my birthday, I wanted to give myself a birthday present, and here it is. Thanks as always for reading and remember feedback is welcome


When you were a child and had your mother and sister around, your birthday was, with no doubt, the best day of the year. But when grew up and they were gone, your birthday was a day like any other day
Even when you met the Winchesters, still your plans were the same as the other years: watch TV, read, eat cheese burgers and fries, and talk to your best friend, Gwen, over the phone.
Everything was supposed to turn out okay, unless the boys found a case. That way, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy your birthday as you wanted. They wouldn’t turn off the hunt because you had never told them when your birthday was.
Nevertheless, you didn’t regret your decision. You had thought about it a long time. You had even asked Gwen about it, she had told you that you deserved to celebrate your birthday like birthdays should be celebrated, with gifts, people you loved and even some cake.
Your thoughts were different though, with the kind of life you had, you knew that by the next year everything could change. Dean could dump you, Dean could die, Sam could die or both could die. And you couldn’t afford to take such a risk. You wouldn’t get used to something that could be taken away so easily from you, not again.


Keep reading

The king was shaded beneath a crimson canopy, one leg thrown negligently over the carved wooden arm of his chair. Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen sat behind him. In the back of the royal box, Sandor Clegane stood at guard, his hands resting on his swordbelt. The white cloak of the Kingsguard was draped over his broad shoulders and fastened with a jeweled brooch, the snowy cloth looking somehow unnatural against his brown roughspun tunic and studded leather jerkin. “Lady Sansa,” the Hound announced curtly when he saw her. His voice was as rough as the sound of a saw on wood. The burn scars on his face and throat made one side of his mouth twitch when he spoke.
— 

ACOK, Sansa I


Wait, wait, wait…  a jeweled brooch and snowy white cloak on a guy that never wears ornamentation except for his Hounds helm!?!  He absolutely disdains pageantry and displays of material wealth as much as knighthood itself.  This is a pretty large departure from his usual self.  He’s likely doing more than just announcing her presence because his mouth is twitching, his signature tell he’s thinking something he isn’t saying.  That just screams “look at me” and "notice me.”  Well, mission accomplished, because she does give him her attention, except she notes those details mostly as being out of character.  Sandor’s acceptance of the white cloak now seems to be more about impressing Sansa, rather just resigning himself to the fact he doesn’t have any wife or lands and thus nothing better to do.              

He was there when Barristan Selmy was “retired” from the KG and let his cloak fall to the floor.  Sansa knelt on that cloak and begged for mercy for her father.  That image connecting her to the exemplary reputation of Barristan, a living legend of a knight must have stuck with him.  Then he is later presented with the opportunity to replace Barristan, which he’s seen as someone Sansa holds in high regard.  He still wants to distance himself though from the other kingsguard by choosing wool instead of silk and satin cloaks and he doesn’t wear the white armor, but there’s still that snappy jeweled brooch!  This is how he wants Sansa to see him and deep down how he wants to see himself. 

Looking back on his bragging of saving Sansa in the riot to Arya, acting like a true knight for her was probably his proudest moment.  It’s why he was kinda salty about her being late to thank him and why he re-wrote history of her singing the song then to culminate the fantasy.   If the story had followed the formula in Sandor’s head, it would have gone like:  save the fair maiden < she’s grateful to her hero < perfect opportunity to win her heart < he’s rewarded with more intimacy with her.  Life is not a song, of course.  Sandor is now set up to have his own struggles with the white cloak just the same as Jaime and Barristan…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

it breaks my heart to think how sad sandor will be to find out how much the cruelty of the world had changed sansa. the last time he saw her she was still so innocent and now she really grew out of her songs

I definitely think this is true in both show! and book! verse, though I really don’t believe it will be explored much on the show.  At least in book!verse we see Sandor’s reaction through Arya’s eyes. 

Let’s revisit it and cry together, shall we?

A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII

“So much for my brave brothers of the Kingsguard.” The Hound gave a snort of contempt. “Who killed him?”

“The Imp, it’s thought. Him and his little wife.”

(…)The Hound sat on the bench closest to the door. His mouth twitched, but only the burned side. “She ought to dip him in wildfire and cook him. Or tickle him till the moon turns black.” He raised his wine cup and drained it straightaway. 

(…)The Hound poured a cup of wine for Arya and another for himself, and drank it down while staring at the hearthfire. “The little bird flew away, did she? Well, bloody good for her. She shit on the Imp’s head and flew off.”

“They’ll find her,” said Polliver. “If it takes half the gold in Casterly Rock.”

“A pretty girl, I hear,” said the Tickler. “Honey sweet.” He smacked his lips and smiled.

“And courteous,” the Hound agreed. “A proper little lady. Not like her bloody sister.”

Not only has Sansa been married to Tyrion of all people, but Sandor knows what the soldiers - let alone Cersei - will do to Sansa if and when they find her, and Sandor cannot bear it. And he cannot cope with the fact that he left her to her fate.  Not long after, he starts a fight with the soldiers.

As he lay dying, it’s still on his mind:

A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII

He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. “And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood there in my white cloak and let them beat her. I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have …ripped her heart out before leaving her to that dwarf.”

He is trying to goad Arya into killing him, but he reveals that he believes Sansa would be better off dead at his own hands than wed to Tyrion.

I believe that in TWOW he will see that Sansa grew and benefitted from her experiences, but he will still be deeply ashamed that she learned the lessons the hard way. If/when he finds out that Tyrion never bedded her, he will be incredulous but relieved that she wasn’t raped, as he would expect, especially after knowing what happened to Tysha.

In the show, I don’t believe it’s widely known in the north that Ramsay is a rapist, since Lady Hornwood is never mentioned, at least not that I can recall. If/when Sandor hears that Ramsay married and raped her, TBH I have no idea how D&D will handle it. But Rory McCann understands his character very well, so we’ll see what he adds to it. 

it’s bright and early. i’m not from this part of town. i’m at the mall and there’s a disney store that I ran across. it just opened, but they have this big magical lock and two store clerks were outside with a big key! a little girl is their first customer and she gets to use this key to unlock the gate, i bet she felt so special. and then afterwards they even gave her a little key to keep! idk, i thought it was pretty cool. just a reminder that we all need to feel special sometimes. and if you forgot, this is a reminder. buy yourself that new book. write down something that you’re happy about read it to yourself if you’re really hurting. maybe backtrack and remember your first memory. go get that tattoo that you’ve always been wanting. go to a city and get lost. go outside and hear the birds banter with one another. get stuck in traffic, you won’t have to talk, just being around people without actual interaction isn’t so bad. if you’re like me, you’re into the little details. get out of your head and into the world. and if you don’t have anything happy to be happy about, i’m still proud of you anyway. we should all be like that little girl, feel special. do something nice for yourself. your soul desperately needs it. if you’re crying, hey, it’s not okay now, but there’s a chance that ice cream might help, especially cotton candy ice cream from ben and jerry’s. omg. yes. the tiny crushed pieces. you’ve got to get some. so what if it’s a drive to go get it. just go. get lost. get lost in your head, but do it around nature. get lost within yourself, you’re special. you’re beautiful. shit, if no one’s going to love you. love yourself. this is how you do it. treat yourself to the art of wandering around without a goal, you’re not being constructive in anyway, but at least it’s a step towards the creative recreation of your heart, soul, feelings, thoughts, emotion, writing or whatever it is that you want to tend to like a garden that you’ve been dying to grow, maybe you’re like me and enjoy the simplicity of a rose or how it curves so voluptuously. draw. play an instrument. learn a new skill. dig deep into your broken bits and ask, what can i do today to feel nice, warm and fuzzy inside my own emptiness? you start by walking. you solve it by walking.

it is solved by walking.