#harsher than goose's

[starlightandsouls]

Sweater Weather

Azriel x reader ( Takes place in the same universe as Yours To Keep And Cherish)

Inspired by this post

Summary: Reader knits Azriel a rather unconventional sweater to wear to the family dinner with the IC. Everyone proceeds to realise that Azriel would truly do anything for his girl... even wear around a giant goose

Reader's POV...

As the winter months grew harsher every day in Velaris and everyone battled against the relentless icy winds, an idea struck you as you closed your register at your bookshop. While Solstice was still far off and Azriel's birthday even further, it wasn't exactly a time that would call for a gift. But who said love needed deadlines or dates. You didn't need an excuse to gift Azriel something, to show him just how much he meant to you.

It was a strange gift and rather comical too. The idea had come to you when you were shelving some children's books last week and you came across a story of a hat wearing cat and a murderous goose. You had had a short laugh in the moment and had honestly forgotten about it until yesterday when you thought of a certain someone whose violent tendencies reminded you of the goose. Azriel. Your loving, amazing boyfriend of almost two years now.

To say you were in love with him would be an understatement. For the first time in your long life, you felt like you understood the kind of love found in fairytales; unconditional, consuming, make butterflies dance in your stomach kind of love. So you were completely and utterly obsessed with your beautiful, angel of a boyfriend. And occasionally you liked to remind him of just that, as he did with you.

You never got extremely expensive gifts, simply because you knew that's not what Azriel preferred. You see, despite his cold, stoic exterior he showed the world, Azriel was actually the biggest love sick puppy you had ever met (a fact he would always deny to his family). Forehead kisses, morning cuddles, romantic dates were all favourites of Velaris's resident Shadowsinger. Therefore, you knew he loved the small, thoughtful gifts, one that assured him of your adoration of him. Effort and intentions always mattered more than price tags.

When you closed your shop that night, you had made sure to purchase everything you would need for your little project. So the next week or two you would spend knitting by the fireplace every night when you returned from your shop. It helped that Azriel was away on some mission to the Winter Court. While you missed him terribly, it was easier to keep his sweater a surprise. You had laughed a good ten minutes while you stitched the goose on the sweater as you imagined Azriel’s reaction. It had taken almost two weeks but it was finally finished. You carefully placed it in your cupboard, now anxiously awaiting your beloved's return.

..............................................................................................

After an unusually exhausting day of putting away books and dealing with rude customers all day, you had collapsed on your living room sofa. Too tired to reach your room and change, you had merely kicked off your shoes and laid down and before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

You were roused from your sleep by a wisp of shadow flowing through your hair and a pair of hands; one cradling your face and the other resting on your arm. Forcing your eyes open, you were met by the most beautiful sight one could wake up to. Azriel was kneeling by your place at the sofa, a tired yet still sweet smile on his face. As your mind cleared from sleep and you registered that he was truly here, you got up instantly and threw your arms around him. The force of the hug threw him back but he caught the two of you before you could plummet to the floor. Still holding on to you, he moved to sit on the sofa as you tightened your grip around his neck and breathed in his scent; the familiar night chill soothing your very soul, reassuring you he was here, he was safe, he was home.

"Why are you sleeping out here my love? You'll catch a cold," Azriel admonished. Only he could retun from a possibly deadly mission and chastise you for not being warm enough. You only shrugged and responded,

"I was too tired to walk all the way upstairs. I swear today was just pathetic Az. Everything seemed to go wrong today."

Azriel gave you a small smile before he got up and carried you up to your room in his arms. You took the chance to snuggle even further into his chest, now more comfortable than ever.

However as Azriel laid the two of you down, any and all traces of sleep disappeared and now the only thing you wanted was to stay awake talking with Azriel.

"I'm sorry, love. I had to drop by Rhysand’s first or else I would have come sooner," Azriel explained.

"It's alright. How was everyone?"

"Ah everyone's fine, still as annoying as ever," Azriel joked, "Nesta and Feyre have been killing me asking about you. We have been invited to yet another dinner."

You smiled at that. After your first meeting you had befriended the High Lady and her older sister. The three of you often met up in the Rainbow for lunch but lately it seemed like everyone was too busy. So this would give you all some much needed time to catch up.

Just as you were about to drift back to sleep in your lover's arms, you remembered something and you shot up in bed. A rather alarmed Azriel sat up as well as you jumped out of bed and ran to your closet.

"Are you okay, nightingale?" You heard Azriel inquire as you rummaged through your clothes, concern etched through his voice.

"Yes, yes. Everything's alright."

Azriel POV...

He had almost succumend to a blissful sleep when his girlfriend jumped out his arms and ran out of bed. His warrior instincts kicked in immediately as he scanned the room for any threats. Finding none, he proceeded to ask if she was maybe sick. Getting no answer, he was about to get out of bed to follow her to her wardrobe when she emerged; holding something behind her back with a devilish smile on her face.

"I'd almost forgot. I made you something, Az."

She walked over and handed him a folded piece of cloth. Taking it in his hands, he realised it was a sweater, a sky blue coloured sweater.

"I've been working it for weeks now and I just thought of it when you mentioned the dinner. Maybe you could wear it then?" you inquired, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You were definitely upto something.

Well the colour was almost twenty shades too light compared to his usual wardrobe, which consisted mostly of blacks and navy blues. But for his nightingale he would do anything. He unfolded the cloth and ran his hand over the soft material.

"Thank you, my love. I would gladly wear whatever you make me," he said as he leaned over to kiss her forehead. The fact that she had put in all this effort for him and spent so much of her time on this, made his heart grow ten times its size.

"Umm Az, I think you're holding it backwards," you remarked, once again with that smirk of yours.

Confused, Azriel turned the sweater to the other side and his jaw dropped. Because on the other side, the sweater had a giant goose holding a knife stitched right in the center, with the words 'murder' printed right below it.

His mischievous girlfriend burst out laughing at his reaction until tears were pooling from her eyes.

"I saw it in a children's book and instantly thought of you."

"Did you now? Well that's concerning. I do have a reputation you know, my love," Azriel remarked, only half joking.

"Mm, no. Others might think you scary. But you're my goose. My cuddly, murderous goose," you replied hunched over, still laughing.

He pulled you into his arms and hugged you to his chest again when a concern ebbed through his mind.

"Wait did you want me to wear this to the dinner?"

"Mhm. Why? Do you not like it?" you asked, a frown replacing your brilliant smile.

"No, no. I love it darling. Its just so... bright."

You pulled away, shoulders drooping as your gaze lowered, away from him. In an instant, that childish joy you had almost radiated moments ago had vanished. Instead you were withdrawn as you moved from his lap to sit beside him on the bed.

"It's alright, Az. You don't have to wear it if you don't like it..."

"No no, my nightingale. Its not that," Azriel said, retracting his statement, trying to amend the situation.

"It's alright, darling. You don't have to lie for my sake. You hate it... I get it. I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your family anyways."

"What? You could never embarrass me in front of anyone, my love. And I could never hate anything these hands would ever make for me," Azriel took your hands in his, kissing both your palms before continuing, "I just meant its quite different from what I usually wear."

You looked at up him, that snarky smirk returning to your face,

"So you'll wear it to dinner then?" You asked, quite chipper now that he had agreed.

"You naughty little minx. You were faking it weren't you?"

"Maybe..."

Azriel shook his head at his lover's antics. Taking her in his arms again as the two of them laid down. Before he could finally go to sleep, his last thoughts were how the hell the others were going to react.

..............................................................................................

As his concern from last night followed him to daytime, before the two of you could leave for dinner, Azriel sent a note ahead with his shadows,

'If any of you say a single word, I will make sure to give you a very slow death. I do not care who it is.'

He had sent it to Rhysand’s office, knowing his busy body brother would spread the word. He just hoped the others wouldn't go too crazy. If anything just so it wouldn't hurt your feelings considering you were the one who had knitted the sweater in the first place.

.............................................................................................

Night approached quicker than usual, as most things do when you dread them. You were dresses in a slightly darker knee length dress while he had donned his goose. That seemed like an appropriate name for the sweater.

Winnowing in to the River House, Azriel prayed to the Mother that his family would go easy on the ridicule. As they walked in, arm in arm, they were greeted first by Nesta, because of course they were. Not having seen you in a while, Nesta ran to give you a hug and started exchanging pleasantries, asking about how you had been, completely disregarding him. Good.

As he tried to slip away, Nesta turned to him and he could have told you the exact second she saw his sweater, because of how her expression changed. Nesta's usual stoic manner, while always lessened with you, was replaced with pure and utter amusement.

Her hand had flown to cover her mouth as she quite obviously stifled a laugh.

"Quite the sweater you've got there, Azriel," the eldest Archeron joked.

"Isn't it? It's so.. him," you joined in. Nesta and you exchanged a glance before both of you burst out laughing. Azriel scowled,

"Well I'm glad you're both finding this amusing."

"I'm sorry Az. You just look so frickin adorable," Nesta said amidst her fit of laughter, "Wait till the others see it."

Turns out, everyone else had found it much, much amusing than her. All of them burst out laughing at the sight of it. While Azriel couldn't blame them. He admitted the sight must be quite cartoonish; the dreadful Shadowsinger wearing a gigantic goose around. Therefore he didn't grudge anyone anything, happy to be enjoying a good laugh with his family, even if it was at his expense.

As they all sat down for dinner, Cassian who had laughed the hardest, asked Nesta,

"Why won't you make me a sweater like that? I'm quite scary as well, no?" To which Nesta had rolled her eyes and replied,

"Because you have to be murderous enough to deserve the goose. And I don't think it quite fits you, Cas darling. Wouldn't you agree, Azriel?"

"Oh yes. Cassian seems to be... more of a duckling than anything else," Azriel joined in, happy the attention was off of him for a bit, and that he got to ridicule Cass. Turning to you he asked, with a rather smug smile,

"Isn't there a story about a duckling, nightingale? The one you were talking about from your children's books?"

"Ohh yes... I think it was The Ugly Duckling," you said, laughing to tears along with everyone else as the room erupted in laughter, this time at Cassian.

Too consumed with the utter joy of the moment, Azriel didn't notice they had an empty chair beside Feyre and Rhysand. Similarly he also didn't notice they had another person join their little get together... until he heard a voice from behind him,

"Sorry I'm late, everyone. Got caught up in some work."

Lucien. Shit. No one had told him he was coming. And now Azriel was rather furious that he didn't know the invitations went out beyond the Inner Circle.

Lucien, as per his usual nonchalant attitude, simply sat at his place before he turned to greet everyone. His gaze, annoyingly, stopping at you as his brow furrowed when he asked,

"Who's this? I don't believe we've met before."

Before Azriel could reply, Morrigan chirped in,

"This is Azriel’s girlfriend." The two of you exchanged names and pleasantries, instantly getting along, much to Azriel’s irritation. Without moving his gaze from you Lucien remarked,

"Well you're sneakier than I had thought you to be, Spymaster. How did you manage to keep this lovely lady a secret for so long? You must have..."

Lucien's sentence drifted off unfinished. Because that was the moment he turned to Azriel, and had taken in what he was wearing. At that moment, Azriel wanted to punch the youngest Vanserra. Lucien bit his lip as he tried to stifle a laugh.

"Not a single word, Vanserra. To anyone. Or I swear to the Cauldron I'll kill you," Azriel snarled through gritted teeth.

"Now, now, Azriel. Why would I ever dream of saying anything about such a lovely piece of fashion? And one so fitting to its owner," Lucien mocked, his humour at the situation evident from his tone. You, however, took it all in tow and continued to joke along with him, glad to have a yet another friend,

"Isn't it? I made it for him myself."

"Did you now? Well I must say, its rather fine craftsman ship, my lady. In fact maybe you should wear it to the next High Lords meeting, Azriel. Really gets the message across. And I'm sure everyone would agree; the knife wielding goose makes you look really... intimidating" Lucien commented and the entire room erupted in fits of laughter yet again.

His ire at Lucien, while consuming at first, slowly slipped away from him as he took in the sight before him. His family, his darling girlfriend, his friends (though he would deny calling Lucien that till his last breath), were all here with him. They were all together and they were all happy. And it was such a rare, coveted moment after everything they had all been through, that Azriel let go of all irritation and laughed alongside them, cherishing the moment like it should be.

Amidst the noise and music, you turned to him while talking to Nesta and gave him a small smile. And with that smile Azriel knew he was ruined. He would do anything for you to continue to smile like that again. He would give anything for your happiness. If he had to wear around a giant goose for that... so be it.

He shook his head and laughed at the notion. Who would have thought the feared Spymaster, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, would ever be this completely, irrevocably in love with someone? Only you could love him enough to rid him of what people thought of him. Only you could make him wear around a knife wielding goose. And Azriel would only ever do it for you. Only you.

#azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel headcanons #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar hc #azriel imagine #acotar headcanon #azriel #azriel headcanon #Yours To Keep And Cherish #acotar fanfiction #imagine acotar

[zmbienii]

” LOST “

pairing : daryl dixon x f!reader

wc : 1.3k

warnings : harsh reader, reader has a dog, daryl has feelings, both silently care for eachother, prison era

summary : he takes up carol’s idea and goes to find something you lost, taking your dog with him. leaving you worried in the prison.

your dog was the only thing that was keeping you sane during this part of your life. from being by your side losing your family and closest friends. he kept you grounded, reminding you who you were still alive for. 

when you first showed up in front of the gates, they didn’t wanna let you in. 

scared that you’d set the dog crazy on them. they kept questioning you as if you were one of them walkers. after what felt like hours of interrogation, they finally let you in. 

taking your appearance in, they studied you as well as your dog. treating him as if he was a human too. 

but soon you found your place in the prison, so did goose. you took your trips and helped out as much as you could, you took runs out to get food, you kept watch, you helped kill. you two finally fit in somewhere. 

you and goose lay in your cell, covered up under your blanket. still deep into sleep the sun peered through the window, gracing your skin with a golden glow. 

the sun finally rose to the point where you were getting blinded. sputtering awake you stretched out. sighing to no one. reaching out to pet your comrade, you were left with an open hand. the space next to you left open. 

shooting up in the bed you scanned the room for him. to no avail, you got up to search around the prison block. looking in every nook and cranny around. anxiety filled your body. buzzing as tears slowly slid down your face. 

you passed carol’s cell multiple times and she must've noticed. dragging herself out of bed she came up to check on you.

”what wrong hun?” her gaze lingered on you.

”goose. dunno where he is.” you shot out harsher than you meant it to be. her hands fell onto your shoulders. “hey, we’ll find him.” you huffed in reply.

”have you asked maggie and glenn if they’ve seen him? they’re on watch”

you laughed. “like they’d notice anything. probably been fucking up there all night.” 

“worth a shot, i guess.” you mumbled as you shortly thanked her before walking off. making your way out of the prison and to the watch towers, nervousness filled your stance.

you yelled up to the two in the tower. rustling and clattering emitted from the tower.

maggie slid her way out of the tower and met your view. 

“ya’ll seen goose?” you shouted up to them. maggie turned to glance at glenn, maybe he had seen him. 

after a few seconds she turned back to your gaze. 

“nah, i’m sorry. maybe rick knows?” she said curtly. 

another huff fell from your lips as you stormed away. anxiety fell way as anger bubbled inside you.

everyone knew that goose meant a lot to you. for them to not pay attention to where he might’ve gone, pissed you off. 

you reached rick’s cell. clanging on the bars and gaining his attention. 

“ya seen goose?” 

his eyes turned to sorrow. “no, i haven’t.” 

“any idea where he might be?” you shot out. 

“i really don’t. i bet someone here knows though. i can help you look for her?” he offered. 

a scowl filled your face. “nah, i’ll keep lookin’ for HIM by myself.” 

majority of the day had passed as you questioned the group members. none of them having seen where your puppy may have gone. you sat out by the gate as the sun fell. night slowly taking over the day. small tears falling from your face as you throught about where goose may be.

he might be out there fending for himself? maybe a walker in the prison got him? maybe he was stuck in a cell somewhere, waiting for you to come and get him?

you thoughts were soon cut short as you heard rustling in the woods. a branch being thrown onto the ground and a short four-legged creature running to retrieve it. 

the animal stayed where the branch was thrown, waiting for someone to catch up.

now that you truly thought about everyone you talked to today, you realized. daryl was no where to be found. he was the last person you thought of to go look for, the last person you thought of in general. 

you watched the person emerge from the woods, crossbow thrown against their back. 

you watched closely as both of them came closer to the gates. anger fueled inside of you as you watched them enter through the gate. 

you stood up without thinking as they walked further into the yard. 

“hey!” you shouted, gaining both of their attention. your dog hearing your voice and running over to you as fast as he could. tackling you down to the ground. 

“ya never heard of telling someone when you take their fucking dog?” you shot to the man.

“not a big deal, girlie.” he chuckled. oh was he in for it now. you stood up harshly. gaining up on him quickly. 

“not a big fucking deal? you must think you’re so funny, huh?” 

“never said tha’.” he spoke as he kept walking. 

“oh fuck you.” you shot at him. a chuckle fell from his lips. “you’d like tha’ huh?” 

you were done with his shit at that point. turning back on your heel and back towards where you once were perched, goose trailing behind.

——

you had sat up in the watch tower for who knows how long. a tired goose laid at your feet. silently rubbing shapes into his spotted fur, you watched the stars. sleep overcoming the animal, soft snores falling from his snout. 

silent tears fell onto your skin as you thought about the past day. 

you thought you lost the closest being to you. the one who had been with you through it all. the one thing that could calm you down during your worst days. it pissed you off how daryl thought he could just take your dog right from your cell. 

even through your thoughts you could hear the sounds of boots coming up the stairs of the tower. placing your leg over it, you silently wished he would give up and walk away. 

he knocked on the top of the hatch, but to no avail. 

“c’mon jus’ let me in.”

”why? you wanna grab my dog again?” you scoffed.

“jus’ let me in.” he huffed. your thigh slid away from the hatch, pulling back to your body.

hands connecting onto your dog in front of you again.

the hatch opened as daryl emerged from it, climbing up into the space. a silence fell over the two of you. neither of you wanting to speak first. 

the silence edged on for quite a while. the only noise filling your ears were goose’s snores. 

“look, i didn’t think it was a big deal.” he finally spoke. 

“wasn’t a big deal.” you scoffed. “i woulda let you take ‘im if you’d asked.” 

“well my bad.” he rolled his pretty blue eyes.

you hummed, not knowing how else to reply. 

“though’ rick tol’ ya.” he spoke digging into his pocket. “i asked him. didn’t say shit.”

”why’d you ask rick to tell me but not tell me yourself.” 

“was tryin’ to get somethin’ for ya.” he spoke softly, barely being able to be heard. your eyes glanced over to his, examining him. 

“why would you get something for me?” you questioned. “carol gave me an idea.” he spoke as he fiddled with the object in his pocket. 

you raised your eyebrow at him. silently questioning him. 

“remember when we found you after we left the farm? you lost your necklace?” 

“what about it?” your expression softened as you glanced up at him. ”tha’s why i brought goose. we went ‘n found it for ya.” he stared at the floor as he pulled the object out of his pocket. 

the shiny silver chain glimmered in the moonlight, softly falling into your hands. a small smile filled your face as you examined the object.

”how’d you find it?” you gazed up at him. “goose did most of it, we were in the area and we were lookin’ around for it.” 

“oh, thanks.” you held it in your hands. “no problem.”

”need some company?” he offered, a lopsided smile itched your face. 

“sure.”

#daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl drabbles #norman reedus #twd fanfiction

[bonefall]

I love how your reblog to kill Tom is one of your top posts.

On a completely unrelated note I adore the differences between BB!Goosefeather and WCRA!Goosefeather (WCRA stands for Warrior Cats Rewrite; Antinomy)

Both of them came to the same conclusion, that you can’t change fate. BB!Goosefeather becomes a fate-obsessed cat who wants to uphold fate while WCRA!Goosefeather becomes apathetic and calm. He doesn’t care about anything except for his family and is content to let fate play out.

Nothing I've ever done in my life is more meaningful than the Tom Explosion gif. KILL him

I'm immensely fond of BB!Goose because he's exactly the way I perceived him in canon. I think a lot of people remember BP differently than I do lmao, I see it with Sunstar too.

BP is a brutal book imo, it's about grief, but not about recovering from it. It's about ferociously fighting the greater of two evils, giving up pieces of yourself in service of the Clan, being chastised when you sit to try and mourn what's been done to you. And that's what I find fascinating about it; how Bluestar never really gets a "win," she just avoids the worst case scenario.

It's one of my favorite WC books, in spite of how much I changed about it LMAO, I'm telling a very different story in BB.

But man, I craaaave harsher interpretations of Goose and Sun. I understand that folks really vibe with "resigned uncle" Goose who's there for Blue and totally loves her, but I think the total opposite is delicious. "When will this little blue menace learn that she can't fight fate (LIKE ME)?"

like... man. It probably ties into the sorts of themes I like in fiction, the idea that Goosefeather is hurt by his visions, resigned to them, and part of his conviction to serving the idea of fate itself is inflicting that despair on the next generation. Nothing can change, he's convinced, so to prove that, he won't let it change.

But anyway, Goosefeather Character Summary over here

#Trying to answer some of these asks in 'themed' bursts #Gooseposting incoming lmao #better bones au #bone babble

[eldritch-spouse]

Putting this here so I don’t clutter your DMs — but I think if the facility somehow managed to recapture Breg, they’d just end up killing him. Him not fucking anything but his human is bad enough, but assuming that the other spreaders can’t speak, they’d likely be able to learn from mimicking him like he did with Fasma. Breg learning to talk reminds the facility that spreaders are beings capable of sentience, not mindless animals that can be used for profit. Losing the golden goose is a big loss for the facility, but they’ll be able to recover the numbers somehow. It’s easier to talk down on something when it doesn’t talk back.

Not quite.

TW: Mentions of suicide.

Spreaders can talk. A bit. See, they may not be educated properly, but they do communicate with each other in select instances, this paired with their ability to somewhat poorly absorb vernacular from guards and maintenance workers means they're able to have a very limited, but still present vocabulary. Knowledge is perpetuated between clumps of breeders, though higher ups are not concerned with this, because their poor grasp of language won't help them in the long-run. They mostly communicate through inhuman vocalizations between themselves, but words are often used for concepts they cannot describe with trills/hisses/clicks.

They wouldn't kill Breg.

See, it doesn't matter if Breg doesn't want to fuck, it never did. He never wanted to fuck the other breeders, but his consent was irrelevant. Regardless of him being able to talk, he's back to square one. His verbal outlash means nothing and will not stop facility staff from arranging breeding sessions.

These people are not morally dubious, they're morally evil. A breeder being slightly more adjusted to society, wearing clothes or talking fluently will not make them have a change of heart or think twice about the nature of their jobs. These people know breeders are sentient, in fact, part of their training involves understanding just how intelligent the monsters are. And besides, Breg could use all the sob stories he has up his metaphorical sleeves, the staff is paid more than enough to close their eyes and look elsewhere.

On top of that, remember that Breg was never welcomed by his own kin, even inside the facility. Before, he was rejected for being a source of stress for most males, due to his excellent "quality". Other males had a lot to live up to, or risk being eliminated for insufficient profit compared to the golden goose. Breg's escape has resulted in a lot harsher security measures being put in place, the facility plays it very safe and ten times more violent, and the spreaders are smart enough to understand Breg's selfish little stunt was what gave way to their new, even more miserable existences. What do other breeders care if he speaks better?! For all they know, he is the source of their newfound suffering. They want him dead all the more.

Breg would kill himself sooner.

He knows exactly what he's coming back to. He knows he'll never get an opportunity to escape again, because simply put, he'll never be out of surveillance again. He'll be isolated further, confined in even more horrid spaces and probably incapacitated. They might try to permanently remove his teeth, cut his tail, forcibly remove claws, keep him drugged out of his mind until he's sent off to impregnate some poor sod. Breg knows what's going to happen to him. He knows he'll never see you or Fasma again, that he'll never be happy again. That this is not an existence worth partaking in.

But it's okay. If only just for a second, this breeder lived out his dream. He had a wonderful mate, and he made a friend. Breg was happy. Breg was fulfilled. He did it. He made it out and he lived his life.

It's with a smile on his face that he starts viciously clawing at his own throat with the claws they haven't removed yet.

If he's quick enough, the guards won't get to his cell in time, and Breg can die happy in a pool of his own ocean-blue blood, knowing he got to love someone, and feel the warmth of their skin on his.

The last image that flashes through his fading mind is of you at the park, smiling at the breeder while you hold his hand.

You are so beautiful....

He's so lucky.

#Bregory #mmmm angst #gonna make myself cry fucc #doodleferp

[lucyshypemaster]

some of my favorite quotes from The Land Of Stories: The Enchantress Returns

(again, for self-indulgence)

"I believe the most extraordinary ideas come from children. If only we all could be so perceptive, we would find the simplest solutions to the greatest problems are right under our noses." - Sleeping Beauty

"Nothing any of us do will ever bring your dad back. And nothing we do will ever push him further away either. He'll always be with us in our hearts, no matter what." - Charlotte Bailey

"Anyone can have a once-upon-a-time or a happily-ever-after, but it's the journey between that makes the story worth telling. And how characters face the challenges at hand is what makes them heroes." - Alex Bailey

"Having something worth telling and a passion to tell it are what makes you a good writer. I can't tell you how many times I've read novels or articles that used complicated words and witty wordplay to cover up the fact that they had absolutely no story to tell. A good story should be enjoyed; sometimes simplicity can go a long way." - Mrs. Peters

"I have two lives in my career; reprimanding and encouraging. Thank you for letting me encourage today. I don't get many opportunities." - Mrs. Peters

"I save lives everyday, but for a long time I thought it would be impossible to save mine. And then along came your mom, and I learned I had been wrong." - Dr. Bob

"Always have a plan B and a friend with bail, and you're guaranteed to never fail." - Mother Goose (ik Brystal is sick of her ass)

"She can lock us up at home all she wants, but we'll just keep finding ways to get back here until our mom is safe." - Alex Bailey

"People only love you as long as they're getting something out of you, but the minute you say something they don't want to hear or do something they don't want to see, all the admiration drains from their hearts." - Ezmia, The Enchantress

'A tension grew in the room, but it wasn't between Ezmia and Rumpelstiltskin; it was between Ezmia and the world.'

'Rumpelstiltskin stood and walked through the doorway, leaving his cell for the first time in one hundred and twenty-seven years, but stepping into a world of even harsher imprisonment.'

'It had been such a quiet day until the twins showed up.'

"I don't want the world to 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥; I want it to 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭. - Ezmia, The Enchantress (definitely my fav line from her)

"If the world was going to speak of my name, it would be whispered in fear rather than mocked with envy. If the world was going to take all the joy from me, I would simply 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥." - Ezmia, The Enchantress (she has done absolutely nothing wrong)

"I want to be at my best when I cause the world's worst." - Ezmia, The Enchantress

"We know the outcome of doing nothing, so I'd rather die fighting." - Froggy

'She missed the times when passing tests was their biggest concern.' (right?? ☠️☠️)

"Jealousy is just a reminder of the frustrations you have with yourself. Who has time to only concentrate on that?" - Goldilocks (another great line from Goldie)

"Just remember that even the tamest of places will surprise you with what is lurking in its shadows." - The Travelling Tradesman

"If I have the choice of being doubtful or being hopeful, I'm going to choose hopeful. It takes less work to be positive." - Conner Bailey

"Your whole life may exist between two streets, but then you realize those streets are just tiny veins in the body of the world. It makes you feel very small." - Jack

"Pain will drive you mad if it's strong enough; it'll change you into something you're not. It'll turn you 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭." - The Evil Queen

"You'll be searching for happiness your entire life but will never find it because you wouldn't know what happiness was even if it scratched you in the face." - Harper

"I'm sorry I could never be the brother you wanted. But one day I'll make things right between us. One day I'll be a brother you can be proud of." - Rumpelstiltskin

"When the rest of the world is looking to us for strength and guidance, who do we look up to for reassurance?" - Cinderella (ngl, this is EXTREMELY true)

'The Enchantress sat in the center of the coliseum on her old Fairy Council chair like it was a throne.' (this scene gave me chills)

'True to her word, the Enchantress had built herself a pedestal made of the deepest parts of the Earth, powered by the deepest anger of her soul.'

"You're not an all-powerful and terrifying 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴, Ezmia- you're just a 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵! And no matter who you kill or what you conquer, people will always pity and laugh at you because of it!" - Alex Bailey (this is 100% one of the most powerful lines in this franchise like- i was literally cheering so hard for her here)

"I said, a 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 took away 𝘌𝘻𝘮𝘪𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴'𝘴 pride!" - Conner Bailey

"I am not a tragic case of the world; I 𝘢𝘮 the world- cruel, unfair and 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦. People are not born heroes or villains; they're created by the people around them." - Ezmia, The Enchantress

"When bitterness and anger first run through your veins, you'll discover that you are 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦- and it'll scare you to death." - Ezmia, The Enchantress (rereading this scene makes me wanna cry bc every single word she said comes true 😭😭)

"No one wins when there is loss." - Alex Bailey

'Something about seeing his sister among the fairies made him feel like everything was right in the world, even though his was crashing around him.'

"We'll always be together, Conner. In our hearts and in your stories- every time you pen another story about our adventures in the Land of Stories, I'll be right there with you." - Alex Bailey

'They were now dimensions apart, yet both the twins were finally 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.'

#i did NOT expect for this list to be this long #anyways alex and ezmia carried this book fr #the land of stories #alex bailey #conner bailey #chris colfer #ezmia the enchantress #the enchantress returns

[adelaidedrubman]

John Jess + making John stay quiet

HI GOOSE THANK U FOR THIS ONE. oh no it’s over limit who could have seen this coming. but it’s the shortest installment yet in what i am now calling the “i just wanna fish” series and john has a better time than in the prior two, so that’s something. warnings for nsfw + additional warnings for outdoor sex and a bit of force re making john stay quiet.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ terrible,”Jestiny rasped against his lips as she jutted her head forward, forehead cracking against his own as the back of his skull thudded against the cushion of the earth beneath him. “Do all that fucking actin’ up for attention while I’m busy, then won’t even — fuck, won’t even be good when I give in and fuck you.”

“I — I am being good,” John stuttered out in a broken mess, desperately doing his best to bunch his fists into the thick denim of the back of her jacket to better pull himself up, cling to her. “I’m being good, I’m being so good, I’m being —”

“You’re being fucking loud,” she hissed, threading fingers through his hair and then yanking to pull him away again. “You’re gonna scare the fucking fish away,” she said, nodding towards the lake stretching out behind them.

John let out a single, sharp bark of protest before his efforts at reply pitched and rose into a pleading whine — because fuck, how was he supposed to stay quiet when she was pulling his hair like that? 

“For fuck’s sake, I said you need to —” she grunted, throwing her shoulders back and snapping her hips and shoving her forearm into his face, so that mouth opened in panting was suddenly filled with the thick denim sleeve of her jacket, muffling his sounds. “Need to be fucking quiet.”

He pinched his brow upward, clamping his jaw to bite down on the coarse fabric so hard that it made his gums ache, the feeling of the weight of her arm thrust against him and keeping his head pinned in place as she fucked him driving the high-charged electric current rippling through him close to a point of overload. 

“Oh, you like that?” she taunted with a harsher thrust and an upward tick of the corner of her mouth into a lopsided grin, a victorious pink flushing across her cheeks. “You fucking like when I make you shut up for once?”

He fluttered his lashes closed to blink away the tears forming at the corners of his eyes, doing his best to hum out an ‘mm-hm’ around her sleeve — he was close, so close, god the way she made him feel. 

She cleared her throat. She slowed the motion of her hips. He opened his eyes to see her grin fall. 

“Well, do you?” she asked with a raise of auburn brows, eyes locked on his. “Do you like it?” 

He whimpered against her arm, attempting to nod his head against its weight. 

Her brow slanted down. “Do you?” she demanded, stilling the motion of her hips and jerking her arm away, a glistening string of salvia stretching from the slick spot pooled on denim as she did. “Jesus Christ, John, answer me when I ask you a question! Use your fuckin’ words!”

“I —” words caught in his throat with an incredulous scoff. “Yes, I was, in fact,” he snapped back, “enjoying that! So, if you would like to —”

“Quietly!” she barked in his face, bending further at the waist so that they were nose to nose. “Use your words quietly,” she grumbled slightly softer as she resumed rocking her hips, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Or else don’t fucking use them at all.”

He hoped his responding annoyed huff was sufficiently quiet. 

#if you see what time im posting this no you don’t #oc: deputy jestiny ellen #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #nsft #writies and wordies

[honuofhawaii]

Cyclone

So what do you guys think about Cyclone? Most fandom interpretation seems to be decently positive, like he’s closed off but ultimately a good guy…and its valid I guess…and I suppose it says good things that look for the best in characters, and I don’t know what to think. I generally take a more negative feeling towards his character. Im going to break down some moments and maybe get a dialogue going. 

Some moments that I think about: 

In the first meeting with Maverick when they are going over the mission briefing and the he speaks the ICONIC line “Now Iceman is a man I deeply admire” Do you Cyclone? Do you actually admire Iceman or just some version of him you have in your head. Anyway Ill be back to that. 

In that meeting, Cyclone makes two erroneous statements:

First he thinks that Maverick was first in his Top Gun class. So someone who’s a fan of Iceman, either doesn’t know that he and Mav were in the same class or somehow doesn’t know Ice came first. He also somehow didn’t see that Mav doesn’t have “First in Top Gun class ’86” in his file (idk if that would actually be there but there would definitely be some kind of record). Regardless, this would be very easy for Cyclone to learn was an error. 

The second erroneous statement is an assumption but not an unrealistic one. Bradley. Cyclone assumes that the problem between Maverick and Rooster is that Rooster blames Mav for his father’s death. Now I’ll say Cyclone’s right on the money in saying that Mav blames himself for Goose. Mav will always blame himself for Goose dying, even if by TG:M I think he mostly knows that’s the survivors guilt talking. Bradley, however, doesn’t blame him and never has. He throws the “My dad trusted you, I won’t make the same mistake” at Mav because he’s angry and he wants to hurt him and knows that Goose will always be Mav’s weakness. But remember, when Hangman brings it up, Bradley gets seriously pissed when Jake implies that Goose is the issue. There are a few ways to interpret that scene, but I personally like the one that Rooster gets so angry because he knows Hangman’s trying to poke a his soft spot but is actually jabbing Mav’s. Anyway Ill probably make a whole post about Maverick and Rooster. Back to Cyclone. 

Okay Cyclone seems pretty decent in the dogfight football scene. Oh my god the clips of him searching for the daggers are hilarious, and while it takes Mav’s explanation, he gets what Maverick is doing in building a team. 

Then comes Mav’s no good very bad day. In which he almost looses Coyote then Phoenix and Bob in quick succession gets into it with Rooster and then he actually looses Ice. We don’t see Cyclone until after the funeral and I can read his actions two different ways. If I’m being generous I could read it as Cyclone understanding that Maverick has been through the emotional ringer and isn’t in the psychologically sound space to be on active duty. (Lets be honest would Mav have passed a psych eval after Ice’s death? Maybe…but probably not, at least if the doc wasn’t just going through the motions). However, there’s a second reading harsher reading of that scene, and that is that Cyclone pulls Mav out of instructing the mission because Ice can no longer order him to keep Mav on it. At this point let me return to my “Do you Cyclone? Do you actually admire Iceman?” Idea. I don’t know a lot about tactics, but im not sure there was a better plan than Maverick’s for the mission objective, certainly not Cyclone’s alternate mission parameters. So if Maverick’s plan is the one with the greatest likelihood of success, he was placed on the mission by someone Cyclone supposedly admires, and then Cyclone removes him the moment that person is dead…hard to see the admiration. 

Okay now onto the shitshow of an alternate mission parameters. At first I thought, well maybe Cyclone is someone who values the mission over the lives of the people flying it, but that doesn’t make much sense either. First of all, he raises the altitude. They would be in the SAM’s radar range the entire four minutes. They’d all die or eject long before they could reach the bunker. If somehow the managed to get to the bunker, they were supposed to drop from a higher altitude, which Cyclone himself admits makes it harder to get a target lock. Neither of those changes improve odds of mission success. The only change that might have lead to a better chance of finishing the mission while increasing risk to the pilots, was the lower velocity through the canyon. The Bandits would have had to strafe them, because the missile lock was confused by terrain. They could potentially get through that and finish the mission, though they’d most likely be blown out of the sky after they were done. Basically Cyclone’s plan seems pretty idiotic to me so maybe he’s just an idiot? If you happen to have tactical experience and you disagree, please enlighten me, I’d like to know how Cyclone’s mission parameters were not dumb as fuck and only not acceptable to Mav bc of the risk to life. 

When Mav demonstrates he can fly the entire mission his way successfully, Cyclone says he has to weigh his career against more probable mission success. Wow. That I also don’t understand, because I don’t understand why his career would suffer more naming Maverick mission lead if it failed, then the mission failing following Cyclone’s parameters? At least in the case of failures with Maverick in command he could say, Maverick demonstrated the ability to preform mission parameters flawlessly. If he sent people with his plan and it failed what could he say “I thought it would work?”. Im assuming mission success is a boon no matter how it happens especially if there are no fatalities. Maverick might not be popular in the Navy but its not like his presence on a mission would make it career suicide, the military tends to be more pragmatic than that. (Also if it works, they tend to reward ingenuity even went it means orders were broken, most CMH recipients disobeyed some kind of order, that’s why they are honored what ever they did was way above and beyond the call of duty) 

When Maverick goes down, Cyclone doesn’t launch either Hangman, nor search and rescue. That’s probably the right call for the situation, even though its cold. He most likely did launch Hangman the moment the F-14 was spotted with Rooster’s ESAT. 

Anyway, Ive got a lot of mixed feelings about Cyclone. What are yours? 

#top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #cyclone #beau cyclone simpson #bradley rooster bradshaw #tom iceman kazansky

[the-greatest-blueheron]

I hear a song sparrow singing from the bushes on the shore, -- olit, olit, olit, -- chip, chip, chip, che char, -- che wiss, wiss, wiss.

Henry David Thoreau, a man of culture who speaks for the trees

@ MCSparrow he called you out

#he recorded him before his album dropped #I don't think annoying him each morning did anything #at least he noticed you #god forbid he hears me honk #I can't hold long notes #I can't hit the high ones either #my voice is so rough #harsher than goose's #I only call to my family or friends or the sky #Ronald gets me

[pherelesytsia]

Feast for Eyes 

Pairing: Modern/Thomas Shelby x female Reader

Summary: Thomas comes after a long day home.

Warning: Pure Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n. Requests are open!!!

Thomas Shelby Masterlist

He was born under Capricorn when the full moon ruled over the land. His bright blue eyes flickered in delight, stepped out of his vehicle, knew you were standing behind the wooden door of the cabin waiting for his return after a long day in the town. The air was brimming with coldness and even if the crispy air did not affect him, dressed in a dark suit, he desired to find himself in the house’s warmth, in your arms, listening to the soft tones of the howling wind. Thomas walked fast and knocked on the door three times before you opened it with a sincere smile spreading across your delicate features kissed by the beam of the rising moon behind the dense forest.

The wood sang in the fireplace of light stones; the logs resting in a basket next to it. You stepped back, allowed him to enter the warm cabin in the woods. A low laugh escaped your lips. He placed his hands on your waist and forbid you to dare to move away, forbid you to dare to move away.

Gently, Thomas placed his lips on yours, sucked on your bottom lip as his hand wandered across the small of your back. Inhaling deeply his scent, you closed your eyes in delight, reminding you of damp moss and rotting leaves in the middle of autumn. His keen ears heard how your blood was rushing through your body, felt goose skin spreading on your flesh under his touch, wasn´t sure if it was because of the cold wind or his touch. You lowered your gaze, and a nearly scolding sound escaped him as he placed his index finger under your chin, forbidding you to look at your hands as your fingers played nervously with each other. His piercing blue eyes shifted, shone darker with lust. A devious smirk spread across his features, remembered the photos you had sent him, remembered every word, every written syllable and the promise you had made to wait for him. Thomas´ eyes scanned over your face and then wandered south, examined your exposed skin partly hidden under the fluffy bathrobe in dark crimson tones, his favourite colour, saw the dark coloured underwear.

You followed his hand as he lowered his fingers on your skin, danced over your skin carefully and stopped at the thin belt of your robe and let it fall to the side. You ignored the fact he was still wearing his from snow graced shoes, ignored the puddles of water he left behind as he forced you harshly deeper into the house, knew you wanted it too, could practically feel it, saw it in your eyes veiled with lust and unspoken desire.

His pointed tongue flicked over his lips, sucked in your scent of flowers and let the robe fall to the ground with one swift movement. Eyes filled with lust settled on you. His dark shiny hair, wet by melting snow, fell down, glued to his burning skin. No sound of discomfort escaped you as his free hand clasped yours, tightened his grip around your wrist and pushed you towards the stairs. He knew your borders would only dare to cross them if the sweetest of all words would escape your throat, begging him to be harsher. You moaned softly, and it was music to his ears as he lowered you on the king-sized bed. He loosened his grip, watched your delicate features in the dim light entering through the open door into the room whose walls were dark as the trees of the forest surrounding the cabin. Thomas shifted above you, let go of your body and rose. Smirking he moved away from the bed with slow steps, elegantly the tall man dressed in a dark suit walked. Facing you with his lust gleaming eyes, he got rid of his heavy dark coat on which once snow had settled down. His muscles were prominent, and for a brief moment, you thought they would soon pierce through the dark material of the button down, dark as the night, darker than the darkest of souls. He loosened the equally coloured tie, stared down on it and played with a thought he knew you would like with a smirk spreading in waves across his face. You shivered in delight, couldn’t for the most of time read him like an open book and waited with excitement, would punish you for daring to send him the pictures of your lovely body.

Playing with the first of the buttons, Thomas stepped closer. His dominant muscles broke through the night. You grew weaker under his gaze, thinking to see his pounding heart colliding violently against his toned chest. He smelled of burning wood, of coal, of a forest after a long rainy night. His gaze forbids you to move, to dare to touch yourself, and then you realised that your right hand moved towards your breast. No words needed to fall, to cross borders. His belt fell to the ground. The sound made you shiver. You felt the mattress sinking under his weight. His typical grin was prominent on his features, deviously, seductive yet filled with love and adoration.

The smirk grew even wider, saw you had witnessed the tie he was clutching tightly in his not dominant hand and showed with his eyes to present your hands to him, wanted to tie them above your head, secure them tightly to forbid to touch him, needed to punish you for your behaviour. Fire rose in his eyes as you obeyed quietly. You whined under his touch as his fingers clasped your wrists harshly and tied them together high above your head. Unevenly, your chest fell and rose. You couldn’t help yourself. Searching for friction, you arched your back, longing for his body towering over you, longing for his hands to roam your body, to the long-discovered places of your body. Thomas muffled your low whimpers with his lips, pressed them harshly on yours with such a tenderness you thought for a brief moment somebody else was above you. Thomas groaned into the kiss, feeling his manhood harden, listening to his serene, to you.

His left hand roamed your body, felt your burning flesh under his touch and cupped your breast hidden under the dark material. Thomas travelled down your cheek with his right hand, let go of your breast, and placed one last kiss on your plum lips.

He wasn’t gently anymore, turned harsher with each passing moment, applied rougher touches to your sensitive breasts and stopped with a scolding look on his features as your tied hands wanted to reach out to him, wanting to press him closer to your exposed chest. Slowly he rose, his torso no longer touching your skin.

A low groan escaped your sore throat as his hand left your body. A tear of sweat travelled down your temple and vanished in the ocean of your hair.

Pleading you looked up as your lips wanted to form words but before the first syllable could escape you witnessed the burning fire in his eyes. His hands framed your torso, his tongue wetting his curled lips as they formed silent words filled with love. His large palms settled on your knees. Gently he drew patterns on your exposed legs, travelled north and south and stopped again on your knees. Slowly, he moved closer to your and even slower spread your legs wide open. His hands moved towards your bra and stopped. You groaned, wanting to force him to touch your breasts.

Seductive, slowly his hand moved south, roamed your body with his large palm, felt the rougher getting skin under his skilled touch. You bucked your hips as his touch roughened, spreading overwhelming pleasure. You gasp out loud, fingers balling into fists, wanting to bury your fingers deep into his hair, force him to come closer, to kiss you, to steal your breath.

You made him smile, sincerely, from the deepest depths of his heart. You couldn’t normalise your breath, thought for a quick moment you weren’t breathing at all as his fingers stopped to travel down your body and played with the hem of your lace underwear. Lustfully, he looked down at you; you didn’t fear the glowing eyes. He pulled on your underwear. Suddenly he stopped, smirked with a scolding look and pushed with ease your hands to the place they belong. You shiver in excitement; his pupils dark, darker than before, pierced through the night. He bites on his lower lip and a drop of blood escaped. Your underwear vanished. Nearly a scream escaped your lips as his hands clasped harshly around your waist, no longer touching your hips and pulled you closer to him. You closed your eyes, feeling his manhood touching your skin.

You forbid your hands to rise again, desiring to touch him, to leave deep marks on his flesh, claim him as yours, wanting to everybody to see he belonged to you. Slowly Thomas lowered himself, his breath brushes your cheek. His hand moved down between your bodies, didn’t need a map to find the sensitive bud. Thomas sucked on your skin, placed delicate kisses on your body, sucked on your flesh, left darkening marks behind on his way across your body. His fingers trace patterns on the inner side of your legs, making you shiver in delight. Searching for friction, you buck your hips and again he pushes you back onto the mattress. Gently he runs his index finger over your exposed womanhood, feelings what he had done to you, which effect he had on your body. Thomas leaves your torso, his eyes travelling across the traces he had left, saw it darkening in the dim light. His hands are rough. His breath brushes your sensitive parts, pushes you deeper into the soft fabric. Moaning, you press your lips to a fine line. Embarrassed, you lowered your gaze, heard the desperate sounds.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick and heavy.

You blush, no words escape your throat. The grin on his lips widens, leans over, towers above your body. Your eyes widen as he lowers himself closer to your dripping womanhood with a smirk.

Pushing your legs farther apart, he plays for a moment with the thoughts to free your hands from his tie, but he enjoys it too much to see you desperate for his body. His warm breath brushes your wet core. His touch stopped. Nearly embarrassed, you looked down as his tongue touches your inner leg. Piercing eyes bore into you, making you shiver, feeling the unevenness spreading on you. Your breath quickened, his tongue moved delicately over your wet folds, dips his tongue deep into your warmth. Feasting on you, his eyes stayed on you, trying to force you to look at him. You moan loudly, no longer able to keep your voice low. It was music to his ears. Feeling him grinning, you groan. He dives back, deeper than before, pushing your legs apart as they cage him. Thomas´ right-hand moves south, crossed the borders of exposed skin and freed your boob, playing with your nipple as you slowly melt under his touch. Pinching you moan in delight. His hand stopped to rise, forcing you harshly back onto the bed where you belong. His other hand joins his actions, rubbing your clit with his thumb rougher, pushing you harder, forcing you to fall over the cliff in his arms.

“You are close.” he wanted it to sound like a question, but it sounded more like a fact, knowing the answer.

Harshly yet carefully, he pushes one finger into you, fills you, making you scream, followed by another one, moves in and out, quick enough to make you squirm, longing for realise. He stretched you wider with another finger as he stopped to touch your breast. You curse under his touch, screaming in delight. Feeling empty, you looked up, not understanding why he stopped, close to falling into oblivion, into his darkness, into his arms. You lower your gaze. He had risen from the mattress.

An uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. Looking up, you realise what had happened, saw his dark tie next to your body, no longer holding you captive. Smiling, he lowers himself slowly, adjusting himself between your legs. Gently, he strokes your left cheek. Groaning, you arch your back. He thrusts deep into you, filling you entirely, stretching you wide. You bury your hands deep in his hair. Nearly aggressively, you push him closer to your chest, feeling him colliding with your nipples. Screaming out in delight, he touches the right places. You claim his lips, feeling his tongue brushing your bottom lip.

Your chest is heavy, eyes full of ecstasy, dripping with lust. The orgasm washes over you, screaming in raw delight, in ecstasy as he thrusts deep into you. Sweat dances down his face as he chases you over the cliff, not stopping as he feels you milking him, feeling his seed coating your inner walls. He watches your body relax under his touch as he pulls out. Feeling fuzzy, he places his lips onto yours, cups your face and breathes words into your ear, making you close your eyes, nearly daring to fall asleep.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader smut #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #x reader smut #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fluff #peaky blinders x reader #imagine #smut #john shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x imagine #peakyblinders #tommy shelby fic #x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #crush x reader #blinders

[kittehkwrites]

Pretty Little Birds

"when the morning comes, I hope you're still mine." - SZA, 'Pretty Little Birds'

Summary: Waking up to someone you love but doesn't want to commit is hard. So waking up to wrik gone wasn't out of the normal, you just wished he'd wake you up and say bye.

Warnings: angst?, fluff

You are but a phoenix among feathers

You're broken by the waves among the sea

You and Erik have known eachother since his days at MIT He was the extremely intelligent kid with a silent, intriguing aura that made everyone want to be his friend or at least be in a close proximity to him in hopes of getting noticed.

Then there was you.

You were the girl studying Linguistics and Philosophy. The girl that looked for meaning and understanding and the human nature to seek to understand things considered beyond interpretation.

Your personality was closed but open to those who intellectually intrigued you. You wanted to find out why they hooked you into wanting to talk, or hang out or discuss things others may consider weird. This meant that some people may stray away from encounters with you or feel intimidated by your way of thinking.

But here you are with Erik

No one expected it. not even you.

Pretty little bird

Pretty little bird

Crossing paths during a seminar being held off campus, focused on the transatlantic trade and the effect of this to those families that were taken and together formed a diaspora.

You've hit the window a few times

There were times when you felt like you annoyed him due to his extensive breaks away from you at a time until he’d always explain the load the institute had placed on him and then the stress of his jobs which required him to need time away from interaction to actually feel free and in control.

There were times when he felt you pushed him away from finding out more like you felt he was withholding from you. This led to some disputes but each time you would return to eachother.

Return to the routine that you hadn’t realised formed and became the safe option that you both so desperately needed.

------

You still ain't scared of no heights

You would give him his space whenever he made it clear that he’d be gone or out for sometime.

This meant that you were the one that allowed for this separated but close relationship to develop in which the periods of distance were compensated when there came those times of close proximity between your persons.

When the morning comes I hope you're still mine

See, you feared that he would leave you like everyone else had done in your life.

You feared that once you fully opened up yourself to him that he’d think you were weird and leave you like he had his past lovers and you didn’t want to feel like trash left on the ground.

Told you I like gentle giants so you softened up

You hadn’t realised that his behaviour would change in the slightest but others caught on.

He wasn’t as grouchy on the days he got to see you, even if it was random run ins or planned time together. 

His friends, or those he considered tolerable enough to stay around outside of necessary correspondence, would start teasing him about his softened nature to which he would be give a sharp glare to and they would just laugh at seeing this version of himself as opposed to the stiff being he used to be before having met you. 

I wanna be your golden goose

------

We hit the window a few times

You could admit that there were times when you’d both get into it but you both always seemed to figure it out.

Whether it was him being nonchalant during your time together or sounding harsher than necessary, you were able to talk things through.

His reactions to you were getting better and you could see him developing a better tolerance and extending his patience. You knew it was good sign and wanted to stick around because he’s come along way from the brooding hard ass he was when you both ran into eachother to now.

You started to realise you wanted more but you thought he was ok with what was going on already and just held it in.

You didn’t want to ruin your progress with him and possibly lose the little bit of normalcy and excitement he brought to your previously mundane life.

- - - - - -

Be faithful and free and just play in your vortex

You see them heights that they just can't afford

I see them lights and you made for that shit

You were supportive of each other and showed you cared for the other in your own special ways.

You were more open with how proud you were whenever he’d mention getting an award or getting the highest marks in his classes, even though he would appear unfazed and monotone.

You’d get some of his favourite snacks and just chill with him at your place, giving him longer head rubs and he started to get comfortable with that and started to get a little more excited each time he had good news to the point where you could see the small smirks forming at each “slip” of good information.

For you, he’d show up infront of your class or after your shift at work, take you home and make you a bath to release tension since he’d pick up you were stressed from the texts you would send through out the day.

He would fight the urge to say anything about quoting because he knew you were doing this to support yourself and have some disposable income to buy your supplies and indulge in with relation to your hobbies.

Sometimes he’d see your wish list open on your laptop and buy some items, surprising you with them each time tou shared good news about something or if you were feeling down.

He didn’t like seeing you sad or down for too long and that was how he showed you he valued you, along with the cuddle sessions he never wanted to admit to enjoying so much now.

- - - - - -

One night he sat up after you guys had a passion filled night, just staring at your soft face in his arms, your body height adding to his and causing him to lean down before placing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck.

He’d smile a little at the way you moved closer to him and the ghost of a smile that graced your plump limps once he pulled back from your neck to stare at your relaxed face again.

In that moment, he knew he was attached.

But my wings don't spread like they used to

He feared you leave.

Afraid that the comfort you both created would be disrupted and you’d leave like everyone did in his life to be free from the burden that came with his creation in the womb to the breathes he takes everyday.

He did in fact have fears but you thought he feared nothing besides God.

But I wanna fly with you

As he watched you, he decided to take that step.

He no longer wanted that toxic cycle to continue after being away for so long.

No, now he wanted to create something beautiful from the strained and patchy past to make sure the future was brighter for you both and the life he wanted to give you.

You were his pretty little bird and he wanted to fly with you for as long and as high as you, if you’d let him.

Hope you guys liked this. It’s been in my drafts for a while now🥴

Don’t forget to like, reblog and/or leave a comment :)

Hope you guys are staying safe💜

-K💜

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #black!reader #kittehkwrites #lyric prompts #killmonger fanfiction #fanfic

[newtonsheffield]

could we get more Goose and Edwina please?? maybe the rare appearance of a jealous!Goose?

Oh Goosey.

Despite being a truly handsome little gander, he has absolutely no idea what he brings to the table, or why am woman like Edwina would want to date him. And so, I think, while not prone to being particularly jealous, he sometimes felt at the beginning of the relationship, that she was probably going to have enough of dating him: a completely average guy and move on to someone else.

Play the theme song!

🎶Eddie and Goose, Eddie and goose, two little sunshine kiiids 🎶

The Bridgerton Wives Club were out in force last night with frequent co-conspirator Edwina Sheffield (27). Sheffield seemed animated as she spoke with Lucy Abernathy (23), and downright thrilled as her sister Kate Bridgerton (32) took to the karaoke stage to perform a Mariah Carey classic. But Sheffield looked at her most gleeful when Michael Stirling (26) ran into the outside with Fiancée Francesca Bridgerton (26) and their long time co-star Hamish Scott with whom Sheffield seemed quite cozy. Could it be that Sheffield has moved on from the Nerd Daddy of last week?

Matthew tried to ignore the swirling in his stomach as he exited out of the article, he picture of his girlfriend hugging another guy, her eyes happy and bright, following him even as he snapped the computer shut all together. You're being stupid. She says she loves you. Matthew told himself, but for some reason, it sounded like a lie. Edwina was an affectionate person, really. strangers who recognised her on the street found themselves pulled into her warm embrace. and her vocabulary was always littered with I love that, I love this, Ahhh I think I love you! And for some reason, he couldn't quite make himself believe that when she said it to him, whispered it to him in the dark before they fell asleep, that it was any different than when she said it to a barista.

A Knock sounded through his flat and Matthew shook his head to clear his thoughts as he made his way to the front door, swinging it open only to be engulfed in a warm hug seconds later, Edwina's familiar floral scent overpowering him just a little, as she left a light kiss against his startled lips. "Morning, honey." she said breezing past him lightly, while Matthew's mind raced to catch up. Always a little taken aback by how beautiful she looked when she appeared suddenly like this. Edwina was already at Darwin's tank, cooing softly to Mr. Tortoise, a few strawberries making their way into his bowl.

"How was last night?" The words slipped from Matthew's mouth a little harsher than he'd meant them really, Edwina's eyebrows shooting upwards as she turned towards him, shrugging a little. "It was good, Kate got predictably a little tipsy, she really needs to admit that her tolerance for alcohol has changed since Edmund, but Lucy was telling me about the wedding planning. Her dress sounds beautiful." She said it all lightly, her eyes locked to his, and Matthew felt momentarily stupid for the way he'd handled this. Of course this was just her, spending time with her sister and friends.

"Matt, is this...? Did you read the paper this morning?" Edwina asked softly. She was standing closer to him now, one hand reaching for him, to tug him into her chest. Matthew felt his heart skip at the contact, guilt pooling in his stomach. And a lie should have falle so easily from his lips, but that wasn;t how they were together. "Yes." Edwina sighed a little, forcing him onto the sofa, perching herself in his lap seconds later, her hands running through his hair. "Matt, Hamish is a friend. We've known each other for a long time. Nothing going on, I promise." She said gently, her voice even, eyes locked on his, and the guilt settled more firmly.

Matthew cracked, sighing. "I know that, Eddie, and I know that we're in a committed relationship," Edwina nodded, "And I trust you 100%. But it's hard when everyone kind of expects you to end up with someone... better than me." Silence echoed through the room, Matthew felt his ears burn a little at the admission. Edwina's eyes widened, shocked as she swallowed forcefully. "Matt," she started slowly, Matthew's stomach rolling uncomfortably, suddenly afraid of what she would say next, "there's no one better than you. And I know that we agreed we wouldn't publicise this really, that we didn't need to, but if that's going to make you..." She trailed off again as Matthew shook his head. "You're enough for me. I'm sorry, I'm just... not really used to dating someone so..." he searched for the word. "Complicated?" she supplied dryly. Matthew rolled his eyes. "Amazing?" He finished as Edwina's own eyes rolled, though her lips found his seconds later.

And maybe it was unflattering but when Edwina posted a picture of the two of them in the kitchen that afternoon with the caption Sorry, Nerd Daddy still in play. He did feel a savage sort of pride. Though her sister's obscene emoji usage was a little embarrassing.

#bridgerton and sons au #i love them your honour #edwina x matthew #edwina x goose #gooswina #edwina sheffield #edwina sharma #matthew goose bagwell #molly's asks and answers

[bonefall]

(Did I send an ask about this, cuz if I did I completely forgot)

Dare I ask about Riverclan’s family tree? Based on what we get in canon and the author statement’s we get a lot of things

Speaking of that, how’s the Frogleap and Mosspelt situation?

So Frostfur is Featherwhisker’s daughter and Dust and Raven are RobinFuzzy babs, we’re does that leave Brindleface? I’d say Goosefeather child of some kind like what’s typically done but would that jumble with Whitestorm’s bloodline?

Completely random question but would you give Bluestar more kits or does the angst/family tree itself not allow that?

(You did! I plan to answer that ask fully once I knock back the RiverClan family tree, the way I buckled down and did the Thunder and Shadow ones.)

A vague answer about RiverClan

It’s shaping up to be the easiest of all the clans. It’s got tons of orphan warriors and there’s no Snowbird who decimated the genetic diversity. It’s been across the accursed lake for the past few arcs so it’s largely a blank slate.

I’m actually considering giving Frogleap to Graypool, the only surviving child of the initial litter; son of Rippleclaw, an honor-siring. Frogleap is being freed massively because I’m obliterating the useless subplot about Leopardfur having to “choose“ between a mate or her deputyship. Mosspelt is also about to be older.

I’m not invested in staying faithful to Leopardstar’s Honorable Mention or Onestar’s Concession; I simply do not respect those books; BUT, I will absolutely be trying to keep Sunfish’s family intact. I think Sunfish and Whiteclaw added positively to Leopardstar’s character (and nothing else in the book did.)

Brindleface

Ohh Brindleface... I will probably end up making Brindleface the adopted child of Weedwhisker and Stonepelt, and allowing Willowpelt to remain an Adder/Swift child. I checked out their descendants, and there doesn’t seem to be a situation where Leopard and Willow’s offspring might come into conflict until well after 3 generations.

Willow and Frost will probably end up just wet nursed by Robinwing; though I am having issues with Frostfur again. I need to make sure she isn’t fully ADOPTED by Robinwing so she isn’t a sibling of Dustpelt... but Featherwhisker can’t be a father, either. I’m looking for a kit I could save to survive and be Frostfur’s adopted parent; but there’s no options I can find.

So Frostfur continues to haunt my nightmares, as usual

Goosefeather/Bluestar Blood

I see a lot of headcannons that float around to give Goose a child, but my rewrite is taking an approach to his character a LOT harsher than how the general fandom sees him. Bonefall Goosefeather would never break fate to take a mate or have a child; and he resents the sorts of people who do.

It’s a shame because he could have been useful genetically; only Snowfur has descendants in ThunderClan, and she had only one son.

Bluestar won’t be having any additional children, either. The family tree would love it, but the angst won’t allow it. Mosskit was a fated hero who was meant to depose the tyrant Thistlestar, and Bluefur refused to sit by and allow fate to kill so many of her friends and family. She risked the lives of her kits, lost the foretold hero, and severed the thread of destiny.

After that, she was completely focused on being deputy for her clan, never entertaining the thought of having more family, living with that loss forevermore.

#warrior cats family tree #family tree #Brindleface #ThunderClan #Frostfur #Dustpelt

[africanicequeen]

Prologue

Forever Hunting © 2019, Tanya Maxine Maseko

This is purely a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means -electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise- without prior written permission of the author, Tanya Maxine Maseko, herself.

Enjoy...

Word count: 1k

Rating: 16+

Genre: Supernatural Romance

Tags: dark fantasy, vampires, witches, love, friendship, romance, angst

Warnings: talk of blood, lust, immortality, use of sharp object, kidnapping and main character being held hostage by unhinged woman

Song choice: Lana Del Rey ~ Serial Killer

Never could I ever have imagined this for myself. Being stuck and quite literally tied down to a messy situation is one way you could have described the catastrophe I got tangled in.

So many thoughts were rushing through my head but nothing could tear my eyes away from her. 

The madwoman, sitting comfortably on the worn out couch across from me, was peeling away at the skin of the nectarine in her pale hands. The sharp and zesty smell of the fruit filled the air as she mindlessly tossed the peels to the floor; only managing to make me more aware of the fact that I was clothed in the absolute bare minimum, a large graphic T-shirt and borrowed silk boxers.

She ran her perfectly manicured fingers through her short and shaggy strawberry blonde mullet before fixing her tight white latex dress and tapping her neon pink Crocs on the floor. 

I refrained from openly judging the obviously puzzling outfit choice, remembering how she didn't take well to being 'looked at funny'. 

The bruise blossoming on my jaw was a clear testament to her temperament.

"How about we read?" she asked, as if I had some kind of option other than being here.

I worked on keeping my mouth shut and tried to ignore the chilling goose bumps rising all over my skin. It was clear what she wanted out of this, how this would all end on her account and she was actually enjoying herself.

She smiled, reaching for the black binder book next to her, continuing the so-called conversation in a normal chatty tone, "This is a little story I read just the other day. Apparently, you personally know the author. He was an old friend of yours if I'm not mistaken."

I frowned slightly, thrown off by her strange statement. 

What the hell was she on about now?

She flipped through a bunch of pages and proceeded to clear her throat, "'These creatures have visibly large incisors that are sharp enough to pierce and penetrate the skin of any living being, albeit animals or humans alike. The hidden creatures that live among us, creatures that have been rumored to walk like human beings and converse just as easily as us, if not at a much greater pace than we could ever understand. Lastly, although these creatures look exactly like humans, they seem to be possessed and driven by much, much darker forces. Namely things such as blood, lust, power, immortality and on rare occasions, royalty, are to be blamed for incidents in the past. They are to be feared, respected and acknowledged.' What rubbish does this man tumble around in that mind of his? Oh, I am so sorry, correction for the mistake is done. I'm sure plans are being made for him as we speak."

My eyes widened, then I stopped tugging at the rope that held my wrists bound to the back of the chair. 

Done, as in, she has already murdered him or is planning to...

The room seemed to spin for a while as she whispered the rest of the thesis to herself, or me, I couldn't tell. What I could tell, however, was that the pounding in my head grew more frequent and harsher the more I heard her. 

I mean, yes, we knew she was a tad bit off but this had to be a whole other criterion of insanity and as far as she's concerned, all was well. The realization of what exactly it is she's been doing was soaking in, causing the tightening feeling of the thick scratchy rope on my irritated skin to worsen. 

She got up from the couch, book in one hand and the other hidden behind her back and a wicked smile on her face still, making her way towards where I was forcibly sat. 

My eyes remained watching her every movement, unwillingly glued to her by captivity and mystery. Yet, I was fighting the itch to wrap my hands around her neck and do my worst. To somehow put an end to whatever was driving her to do this. 

"Vampires are the first thing that comes to mind when humans hear such twisted words. It's always said that vampires are not to be associated with anything good in this world. Rubbish! We deserve to rule it and be worshipped while we're at it!" her voice seemed to echo throughout the room. Suddenly, she raised her hand from behind her back to reveal what she's been hiding: a large sharp diamond drill bit. "You've been ruining lives for quite some time now and it's time to pay your dues."

Sunlight from the nearby window shone through and cast a glow on her seemingly perfect hair, as though she had a halo set atop her head. Making her look like an angel, whilst she was silently planning my execution. 

You could practically hear the killer anticipation in her voice, "How has it come to this, my dear Khalida? You sitting there and me standing here."

"Since I do seem to be the one held up here, as you pointed out earlier, I was hoping you could tell me..." I replied with sarcasm, raising my brow.

She loudly tapped the tip of the drill bit on the back of my shoulder after my rather dry response. 

"I hate sarcasm as much as I hate your entire existence. You know I guess now I know I should have finished you off while you were still brittle and human. We wouldn't be here right now." she sneered at me, fangs on display, venom dripping from her every word, "I was counting on you dying that fateful night, although you can bet this little adventure was fun as hell. Watching you be all confused and angry really got me going. Now, close your eyes, this might just hurt."

Even though she managed to not only nearly kill every single one of us, she couldn't have been more wrong.

How did I know?

She couldn't hurt us anymore than she already has.

Next

#intimacy #friends to lovers #love #romance #writing #childhood friends to lovers #supernatural #work in progress #fluff #dark fantasy #vampires

[writearctic]

Intimate (s) - Park Seonghwa

wc: 1.5k

Your hands glided over the cream silk that rested on your body. You never intended to buy a seductive night gown, but it was on sale on your favorite shopping app.

It fit surprisingly well you thought. Though, as this was the only lingerie-ish piece of clothing you owned, you didn't know what else to expect.

It was beautiful, and it made you glow with confidence. The window light from the sunset shined on the fabric and made you feel like an angel. You couldn't tear your eyes off the mirror; the lace linings kept your glaze glued to you.

Suddenly, you were brought out of thought when the front door hitched open, then locked shut.

You were absolutely frozen. Yes, you bought this fully aware of what it was really for. But no, you were not ready to take that next step with you boyfriend, Seonghwa. At least, you didn't think you were.

You were afraid he'd hate how inexperienced you were at sex.

"Y/n?" His voice was quiet and coated with an unfamiliar tone- lust.

"Shoot," you gasped when your eyes met his. He was still at the entrance of the apartment, but he saw you. You and the lingerie nightgown that hugged your skin. You mentally curse the architect who designed the floor plan so open.

You made towards your closet and rushed to take it off. But, Seonghwa was faster. In a split second, he was in the room.

He slid across the wood floor and came to you. He took your hands gently away from the task of removing the clothing. You couldn't look at him, so you stared at his feet.

"What's this?" He whispered; Seonghwa's question sent shivers down your spine. You didn't mean to, but from the position of your head, you saw the bulge in his pants.

You faintly licked your lips and turned to him.

"I- uh. Haha. It was on sale, and I really liked the design, color, shape. Well, I like all of it..." you mumbled and did a little twirl. You shut your eyes out of fear of his stare. It was new and darker, one you haven't seen from him before.

"Were you going to show me?" His slim fingers started to trail lightly up your arms; you instantly got goose bumps from his touch. Your eyes went to his again.

"I don't know," you whispered back.

Seonghwa picked you up, and you yelped in surprise. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rested your hands on his broad shoulders. You brushed against his crotch and moaned.

When the small moan left your lips, Seonghwa was completely lost in desire. He stepped quickly to the bed; he easily placed you on the mattress. He rolled down to your body after shedding his dress shirt and tie.

"Mmbaby," he moaned into your lips. "You are something else." He pulled away and laughed quietly.

"What do you mean?" You were worried now.

Seonghwa noticed the tiniest tint of panic in your voice and cupped his hands around your soft cheeks.

"Who buys lingerie because it's cute?" Seonghwa gently laughed through his words. He leaned low enough to you and felt your warmth. "Only my y/n." He bent down completely and kissed you again.

The kiss was different. It held a new meaning than the ones you've previously shared together. This was a heavy and erotic kiss; it was almost animalistic. And it had you craving all of him.

You gripped his undershirt as airy moans fell sinfully from your lips. Your fingers erratically started to shove at his t-shirt. He grinned in your lips and gave one last kiss to you before ridding himself of the garment.

You needed to touch his honey gold skin. Before your fingertips could even attend to his defined chest and abs, he leaned back on top of you leaving your fingers to trail along his back. Seonghwa's lips latched to your neck; he found your sweet spot immediately and sucked fervorishly. The gentle pinch of his fingers to your nipples left you breathless. Your back arched, and your hands squeezed his biceps. Your hips began grinding into his with needy moans spilling from your mouth. You felt your dripping heat throb desperately with need.

"Seo-Seonghwa." You breathed. He looked at you once his lips detached themselves from your neck; he knew you needed more. His hands roamed on your skin until he found the hem of the gown. He awaited your approval before removing it. The small nod of your head was all it took; he threw the silk to the floor leaving you in the cream-colored panties.

Seonghwa groaned at the sight of your bare torso and stepped back to remove his pants. You took the pillow and held it to your chest as he stared down at you. He flew to you once he was left in his boxers and harshly removed the pillow.

"No. Don't cover up from me. I want to see my beautiful angel." His fingers quickly found your abandoned nipple as his mouth trailed along your body. Your left hand met his right which rested on your hip; just holding his hand gave you so much more security. You bit the forefinger of your other hand while gasping with pleasure.

He peppered your delicate skin with purple kisses; you loved the way he kept eye contact with you. It made you feel loved and wanted. Seonghwa removed his hand from your swollen nipple and slid down the bed.

"May I?" He asked as his fingertips traced the sensitive skin above the hem of your panties. Your breath hitched at the touch. You closed your eyes and threw your head onto the mattress.

"Please." You whined. He pulled them off at a painfully slow pace. Once you were completely stripped, Seonghwa growled at the sight of your slick folds and dove right into you.

You wanted to close your legs, but his arms wrapped around your thighs and held you open. He meant to take his time and ease into you. But seeing your beautiful pussy shine just for him made his need to taste you grow with desire.

His tongue eagerly lapped at your juices. He had waited far too long to taste you, and it showed. Seonghwa groaned onto your clit causing you to moan deeply in pleasure. He removed himself and looked at you.

"You taste so sweet, angel. Fuck." And he went back into your lips desperate for another taste.

He sucked on your nub while his eyes stayed focused on you. Every flutter of your eyes, or high pitched gasp for breath made him grind harder against the mattress. He inserted a finger, and you instantly clenched around him.

One of your hands played with your nipple while the other held Seonghwa down by his hair in fear he'd sit up again. He wouldn't though, not when his girl tasted this good.

He added another finger and started scissoring your hole. His lips continued their assault on your nub. He sucked harder, and your hold on his hair tightened.

"Seong-hwa, ah! I'm close," you moaned to him. The tingling feeling started crawling throughout your body. He shifted his fingers; you pushed into them as he found your g-spot. "Ah! Rightthererightthere."

Seonghwa hummed in response, and it sent you right near the edge. He could tell by how tightly you clenched around his digits and the faint shudders of your thighs. He broke his movements, and you whined.

"Cum for me angel."

He enclosed your clit once more and increased his pace with his fingers. You started grinding into his tongue. He sucked harsher around your bundle of nerves and moved his head side to side while his eyes watched you hungrily.

You threw your head back into the pillows while the mantra of his name spilled from your lips. One more flick of his tongue sent you seeing white.

"Seonghwa!" You cried out as your back arched in pleasure. The tightness in your chest erupted followed by the gentle tremors of your legs. It encouraged him on. He continued to suck you and thrust his fingers in and out even harder.

You began to squirm when his digits pulled out to hold you down; his tongue still danced on your swollen bud. Your body felt warm as the tingles of stimulation roared throughout your body slowly. He licked your pussy once more before he crawled next to you.

"How was it?" Seonghwa asked as he licked the essence off your lips.

"Aa-mazing, Hwa." You pulled at his waist and hummed. When you saw his hard member free from his boxers- when, no. how did he remove them- coated in what you thought was precum, you asked if he needed help.

"No, angel. I already came." Seonghwa lovingly brushed away the hairs that stuck to your face with sweat.

"You... you came just by eating me out?" You gaped.

"Of course. Seeing me giving you so much pleasure really turned me on," he smirked.

"Wait, so you liked the gown?" You giggled and leaned down to kiss him.

"I loved it; what else did you think?" He grinned and pulled you closer allowing himself to cling to your perfect body. "This was perfect, y/n. You're perfect."

a/n: *evil laugh* ahaha i've done it. i've written some smut. this is my first so i apologize for any dislikes:(

#kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fic #kpop timestamps #ateez #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa smut

[lieslidoo]

The beauty in the mundane Howl Jenkins X Painter!OC

Part 1: an uncharacteristically early start.

this is really not book or movie accurate I just like the characters so like, MAJOR cannon divergence, love y’all. Have mercy on my soul dear reader, for I have not proofread this fic.

Far beyond the bustling coasts of Porthaven and the lush greenery of the folding valley lay the small village of North Bexley. Surrounded by two mountains of admirable size, it stood snugly as if it had always been there, and as far as Agatha Havenglow was concerned, it had. 

Miss Havenglow was perhaps one of the most well known inhabitants of this charming Hamlet. Had you gone to the village folks and asked about her, many of them would have told you that she was a strange young girl who would have been unbearably lonely if it wasn’t for her sister, Emily Havenglow. 

Some of them, more knowledgeable, might show you around the town and point out the many things she had painted : various hanging signs, storefronts, advertisements and the occasional mural. And If you had asked Mr. Tailor, the town’s baker ( who funnily enough married the village tailor’s eldest daughter Ann) he’d tell you she was “too good for this small town” and that  “She ought to leave us for South Bexley”, by which he’d mean that she should leave North Bexley for better, bigger towns and not, as it may seem, the actual town of South Bexley, which has, as of yet, not been located (and nor do I believe it ever will be). He might then point you in the direction of the Havenglow’s home, at the edge of Silverkeep lake more commonly known as North Bexley Orphanage, where our story begins.

On the first day of the month of may, Agatha was getting an uncharacteristically early start to her busy day. She put on the pair of woolen socks Mrs. Havenglow had gifted her for their last birthday and threw her shawl around her shoulders. The dark herringbone floor creaked as she moved to her nightstand and picked up her journal and her charcoal pencil. And, as she had done every morning before, Agatha drew back the green velvet curtains, opened her blinds, sat on the windowsill and started to draw. She drew the camellias and Irises that Her mother loved so much and the arrowwood her sister had cared for, the wrought iron swing that her and Emily bickered over and the wooden one that Mrs. Havenglow had put in next to it in a futile attempt to bring peace to her garden. The small pond that emptied into Silverkeep lake where the children would once go to capture frogs and feed ducks. Everything held a story, a memory and try as she might, she always felt she failed to adequately draw them.

She was hard at work sketching the small tree stump on which she had once twisted her ankle when her door opened and the familiar scent of Emily’s cinnamon basil tea filled her room. “You’re up early today.”

“You’re painfully observant today.”

The girl joined her sister on the windowsill and, with her tea tray in her lap, waited for her twin to finish her drawing. She had learned a long time ago that this was to Agatha what gardening and baking was to her, her way to make sense of the world around her and to safely interact with it, and there was nothing in the world she loved more than watching her draw. After a few minutes, the pencil stopped moving and the handkerchief stopped smudging and there was peace, both in Agatha’s room and mind.

“Are you done?” “Yes.” “Let me see.” She handed her the journal and took one of the warm cups of tea in exchange. “I don’t know how you do it. It’s so…”  “So what?” “So alive.” The artist snorted at her sister’s praise and took back her journal, setting it on her dresser a bit harsher than she normally would have.  “How was the may dew?”  Agatha asked Emily, her voice still rough from sleep. 

She was referring to a strange custom the girls of Bexley had been doing for centuries. On the first morning of may, all young maidens would run out to the nearest prairie and dutifully wash their faces with the morning dew. It was a sight to behold, pretty women, all in their white nightgowns laying on the green grass and waiting for the sun to shine on them away from the hungry gaze of men and the pressures of marriage. 

“It was intimate, and invigorating.” “Did you go with the other girls?” “Of course! Praying is best experienced in the company of your peers.” “And by praying you mean rolling around in a prairie for half a sunrise?” Agatha mocked. Her sister sneered at her and dangled her legs out the window. The air was crisp and the sun was warm. 

“Oh! The bannocks!!” Emily cried out “I thought you had forgotten” “I could never! its tradition.” Agatha laughed at her sister’s earnest response to what she clearly said in jest. Try as she might she could not recall one time where her sister had forgotten a celebration ; be it holiday or name days, she never faulted. The girl handed her a small bun and took hers, raising it towards the sky. “Merry May-Day Aggie” “Merry May-Day lily.” The bread was still warm and smelled of rosemary, lavender and honey. As the bannock touched her mouth, she thought of the village fête tonight and felt a strange sense of trepidation, something that was quite rare in a village where familiarity and predictability were king. “Are you going to say yes tonight?” She asked. “To what?” “To Lawrence, are you going to say yes?” “If he proposes, yes.” Emily stated, sadness burdening her normally sweet voice “There must be something we can do, have you asked Mr. Tailor? he’ll help us, I’m sure.” “He doesn’t have the money. Lawrence is our best solution, our only solution.” There was a moment of silence and Emily braced herself for what she knew her sister would offer. This room had heard this particular argument unfold a myriad of times and for a moment, Emily was saddened that this was probably the last. “We could run.” “Aggie, no.”  “You could open an orphanage where you want, Agatha argued, you don’t need it to be in boring old Bexley” “Well I like boring old Bexley, and I love Havenglow cottage, and I won’t see it go to waste on some rich stuffy old man who will only use it in the summer.” “So you’ll marry a rich stuffy old man instead?” “Lawrence is not old.” He wasn't, not particularly

“No he’s just boring.” He was, most definitely “What a wicked thing to say!” Emily chastised. “A wickedly true thing to say. He’s not worthy of you goose.” “Agatha…” the girl softened at the old nickname, “don't start, please.” “If you just moved away to a city, even for a month,” Agatha started, “I’m sure you could see that Bexley cottage is not the be all, end all of your life, and even if you don’t, I'm sure you could find a better, handsomer, RICHER man to take Lawrence’s place.”

The girl was not wrong. Emily was certainly the most coveted maiden in North Bexley. A born homemaker, she could steal any man’s heart with her baking prowess and her angelic singing voice. Although her heart had, as of yet not been moved by anyone.

“We don’t have a month aggie, and who’ll take care of this place? Who will make sure no children are turned away?”

“We haven’t had a child in 5 years Emily.”

“Then it should happen any day now.”

“Oh for the love of god!”  Agatha exclaimed, snatching her sister’s hand with her own “Promise me, if there’s a possibility, even a small sliver of a chance you could escape this wretched, pathetic excuse for a…”

“Aggie…” Emily warned

“Marriage, you’ll take it. You’ll try.”

“Aggie, its…”

“Please, for me.”

The girl mulled it over and sighed. Emily could never say no to her sister, being the second born, she always felt like Agatha knew best and she had been shown to be right many times before. The eldest Havenglow seemed to have a sharp sense of intuition and often knew something would happen before it did (be it a stranger entering town, an unknown illness falling upon a villager or an unpredicted visitor at the cottage door). When the girls were children, Emily used to swear that Agatha possessed magic powers, but the girl relayed it to having spent all her life in a predictable and boring small community. After all, she reminded herself, sorcerers were few and far between and she would most probably never meet one in her lifetime, so the idea of her being such a creature was absolutely preposterous.

“Fine, I promise. But if by the time of his proposal I don’t have a better, safer option I will say yes, and I will go through with it. And that’s final.”

Agatha considered arguing further but, feeling the time wasn’t quite right, laid her head on Emily’s shoulder and chipped away at her bannocks.

 A heavy silence fell over the room as both of the Havenglow girls ate their breakfast, their linen nightgowns floating in the wind and their feet snuggly kept warm by the impeccable knitwork of the late Mrs. Havenglow.

Hello there, no Howl in this chapter, but lawd he coming. Had to set stuff up :)

#howl's moving castle #howl imagine #howl pendragon #howl jenkins pendragon #howl jenkins

[ampleappleamble]

Heritage Hill. Dyrford. Brackenbury Sanitarium. She was starting to wonder if she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Axa had just finished off her third goblet of the Goose and Fox's most modestly priced wine and was considering a fourth, seeing as her hands were still shaking– so badly, in fact, that she'd spilled her pipe on the bar twice while trying to refill it– when she felt a presence at her side take the stool next to her. She didn't even have to look to know who it was: no one else in her party smelled as good as Aloth, moved as daintily as he did. "Forgive me; I know you're probably loathe to entertain company at the moment, else you'd not have left the table to sit up here by yourself," Aloth murmured, sliding into his seat. "But gods' mercy, I just couldn't take it anymore." He planted his elbows on the slick, well-polished wood of the bar and buried his face in his hands. "I understand that my... ailment is an unusual one, but why must they pry so?" "Welcome to my world." Her voice was thick and rough, the wine and smoke gumming up her throat as well as her mind, and hearing herself speak was enough to help her decide against that fourth drink. So instead she lowered her head to the bar and gently rested it against her outstretched arm, regarding the elf at her side with sympathy and curiosity in equal measure, hoping to forget her own burdens for a bit by focusing on someone else's.

As it had turned out, he hadn't been entirely dishonest with her before– his uncouth, vulgarity-laden outbursts of Hylspeak actually had been a problem beyond his control ever since his childhood, and one for which no healer in Aedyr would have had a cure. But the cause of his compulsion was not some medical mystery or mental affliction. After the Leaden Key acolyte had unwittingly revealed to Axa the cult's machinations in the city and beyond, after they'd escaped the catacombs and staggered to the nearest tavern to process and recuperate, Aloth had gathered every ounce of courage he could muster and, at long last, he'd told them about his Awakening. About her. Her name was Iselmyr. The soul that now dwelled within Aloth Corfiser had belonged to her some centuries hence, and if her rustic accent and colorful colloquialisms were anything to go by, her life had been a rough-and-tumble series of drinking binges and late night fistfights in the bucolic paradise of the ass-end-of-nowhere Aedyran countryside. Unlike the fleeting, nebulous recollections from her past life that Axa's Awakening afforded her, Aloth's past life had manifested in him as an entire separate personality– this bold, coarse woman born again in his body, who forced his own personal will aside at times and supplanted it with her own. Hence the Hylspeak, the surly temper, the rude language that occasionally spouted forth from such a mild-mannered academic as Aloth. She'd been shooting his mouth off at anyone who pissed her off since he was a boy, and he'd been searching for a way to permanently silence her for just as long. He heaved a heavy sigh, briefly massaging his temples before dropping his hands to the bar. "If I was ever anywhere near as annoyingly intrusive with my inquiries about your Awakening as they've been about mine, I deeply apologize. Sagani and Pallegina are courteous enough to take a hint and mind their own business, but Edér and Kana... Those two boors would have me call her out to play, like she's some damned parlor trick and not the scourge of my existence for the past five decades...!" Aloth paused suddenly as an argument with his other half erupted inside him, the effort to keep Iselmyr from usurping his body slowly driving color into his cheeks, his eyes twitching and bulging behind his tightly shut eyelids, veins throbbing in his brow. Finally, he choked out a breath, panting and sweating, and raised a trembling hand to summon the bartender. "Gods, she's persistent tonight!" He ordered a glass of wine for himself, turned to Axa, one eyebrow raised in an unspoken offer. She grimaced and shook her head, burgundy curls spilling across the bar, and he shrugged, accepting his drink and sliding the barkeep some coin. "I've gotten stronger over the years, better at maintaining control. But evidently, she's gotten stronger, too." "What happened to you, anyway? When you were a child, to Awaken you?" Axa lifted her head, planting her chin in the palm of one hand. "I somehow doubt your Awakening was also caused by a strange machine and an eerily familiar black-robed cultist." The look he gave her in response probably would have made her feel guilty were she not so deep in her cups and pipe, but as it was, she only smiled sheepishly as he glared at her, disgust and betrayal plain on his face. "You, uh... you don't have to answer that if you don't want to," she assured him. Aloth glowered at the orlan a moment longer before relenting with a sigh, the guarded hostility on his face replaced suddenly with resigned weariness. "No, it's– it's fine. I figure I probably owe you some answers after what I've put you through, anyway." He downed his glass in one smooth motion, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he did. "...And you've tolerated my nosiness more than once yourself. It's only fair you should get a straight answer out of me every now and then." "'Trust is a double-edged sword, gift and burden both to friends and allies.' My father taught me that one." Axa smiled up at him, hoping she looked more like a supportive listener and less like the sloppy drunken fool she suspected she looked. Aloth winced as he set his goblet back on the bar, applying a bit more force than was necessary. "He sounds a wise fellow, your father. My own father's lessons were... somewhat harsher." Axa straightened up in her seat, halfway to sober almost instantly. The color had all but drained from Aloth's face, leaving the elf pale and haggard, his voice soft and tremulous. "He was employed as an arcane knight, stewarding an erl in the Cythwood, and as his only son– his only child– it was my duty to follow in his footsteps." He gazed into the empty goblet, picturing it full again, hating himself for wishing it so. "He was quite demanding in his expectations of me, even when I was very young. And when I fell short of those expectations, as children are apt to do, he... was not shy about making his displeasure known. Especially after a drink or six." "He'd beat you." A cold rage bloomed in Axa's belly and chest, her little hands clenched into fists atop the bar. "He'd get drunk, and he'd beat you." Aloth struggled to look anywhere else, at anything but the woman next to him. "He... yes. Yes, he would. And although I can't recall the exact details, on one such occasion he was a bit... overzealous about it. So much so that– well, I suppose he must have beaten her out of me. Struck her Awake, so to speak." He toyed nervously with the stem of his goblet, his lips a thin, bloodless line. "To his credit, that was the last time he was physically violent with me. Although it certainly wasn't the last time he put voice to his discontent with my performance as a student of the arcane. Nor was it the last time he drank himself to debasement. As far as I know, it's still his custom to drown himself with liquor as often as his budget allows." The wine sat heavy in Axa's stomach as she considered his words, eyed his empty cup. "And where was your mother during all this?" "Away working, usually. She was in a haemneg– a sort of symbolic marriage between folk and elf, more a business partnership than anything– to a landed thayn some five days' ride from home. In truth, that's where the greater part of our family's finances were earned." He gave in at last and signaled to the bartender for a refill, grimacing as he did so. "Although to my father, the fact that his wife supported our family better than he could was just one more reason to get into his bottles." He'd fixed his gaze into the bowl of his goblet, and as the barkeep finished pouring and the wine settled, he saw his father's face sneering back at him in his own reflection. The two kith sat in silence for a while, Aloth sipping at his drink and twiddling his thumbs, Axa puffing on her pipe and scratching at a rough spot on the bar, both wondering what they should say next while hoping the other would say something first. He wondered if he'd said too much. She wondered if she ever should have said anything at all. In the end, Axa broke first. "I'm sorry," she blurted, stomach and head heavy from drink and grief alike. "No one deserves that sort of treatment from their own family, least of all in their most tender years. I mean, my own family situation wasn't exactly smiles and sunshine all the time in my youth either, but..." "It's all in the past now," he replied, finally turning to look at her. "Water under the bridge. But I do appreciate your sympathy all the same, truly. Thank you for listening." He forced a small smile, but when she lifted her gaze to meet his, he found he didn't really need to force it after all. Cor, laddie, next ye'll be invitin' 'er up to yers fer a tumble– Axa chuckled as she slid off of her stool, catching herself on Aloth's elbow and taking a moment to get her feet beneath her while he gritted his teeth against Iselmyr's perverse delusions. "Thank you for sharing yourself with me. Wael knows it's not always easy to talk about past hardships, not even when you trust the one you're telling. But I'm glad you've judged me worth the risk." Her smile broadened, hand lingering on his forearm, and he didn't quite know what to make of that. "Hopefully we can both find out a little more about our Awakenings at the sanitarium tomorrow– after we've attended to a few other matters first, of course." She patted the satchel at her side, the animancy research for the Knights safely tucked within. "Of course," he murmured, knuckles white with tension as he grasped his cup. "Tomorrow." She gave his arm a little squeeze– gods, was she blushing? No, no, she was just flushed from the wine, surely– before excusing herself and sauntering away, clambering up the stairs to sleep it off in the party's rented room. Her meeting with the Leaden Key had given the Watcher little in the way of answers, but more than enough new leads to chase down, and it seemed she intended to do so with vigor. Aloth only hoped– –only hopin' she disnae suss out yer other grand secret, aye? Iselmyr's voice held little of its usual bite, her crude little barbs replaced with what felt like at least partly genuine concern. Nae afore ye can tell 'er yerself, leastways? He lifted the goblet to his mouth, careful to avoid glimpsing his reflection in it again. "If we should be successful in our endeavors, I hope to never have to tell her at all." Oh, fine figurin' there, lad, his long-suffering other half sighed. As e'er. —

#pillars of eternity #poe anthem infinitum #fic wip #hoo boy this one's a doozy #content warning for alcoholism and child abuse #chapter 10: finish! #now to edit it... clean it up... make it suck less... etc #thanks for reading ♡