#Petition to declare him best boi

[twstedstoryshop]

FINALLY, I return properly. Kind of. Reason I've been away for so long was because of insane convention season and also had this bad boy in the works. This is one of two commissions done for a friend. Hope you all can enjoy yourselves for the crumbs I produce. -SK

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, depressed s/o, and mentions of toxic past relationships.

Your New Boyfriends Runs Into Your Ex

While Rook Hunt was one of many to find camaraderie in a den of villains, that didn’t mean chivalry was dead to him. Certainly not him.

Under his keen gaze, he knew that when a certain topic was broached, you would shy away instantly. Paled knuckles, a panicked gaze, and your bottom lip near to splitting open by how badly you chewed down.

It was like he was seeing a rabbit or deer caught in a trap, frantic with no escape. Though his heart had been trained to a perfect steel and not feel for his quarry, when he sees that look in your eyes, all defenses fall away.

The topic? Well, the worries of what the future held for you. Moreso in far off days. Would you continue to have your friends by your side? Would someone ever cherish you? Have a deeper connection?

For Rook, it was a no-brainer because of course! Who else was more worthy of adoration and praise than his dear petite grâce? As he would declare this in all his usual grandeur, a small smile would form on your lips, but that happiness never reached your eyes.

Doubt clouded that sweet gaze of yours. In its own way, seeing such clear eyes be veiled by sadness was heartachingly beautiful. Yet it was a beautiful scene Rook couldn’t bear to behold for too long.

When it came to keeping track of you, Rook was extra considerate. If one can call it that… In his mind, he kept careful track of those you interacted with. He watched your mannerisms, your dialogue, anything amiss he would file it away. But for the longest time, it didn’t seem like an outside force was troubling you.

For a moment, Rook considered that whatever wounded your heart was a scar from a distant past he had yet to uncover. What he didn’t expect was said wound abruptly appearing on a normal day.

From a vantage point, perhaps from a second story window or among the trees that dotted the campus, Rook had caught sight of you stone-still on your walk. Before you, an NRC student he couldn’t recall. He didn’t really have time to register the man when Rook had just attention all on you.

Your wide, hollow eyes. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. How you froze so perfectly under the gaze of this man. It was a scene Rook was all too familiar with. Prey terrified beyond its own mind to run, to hide, or even fight.

Your rational mind couldn’t comprehend what your ex was even saying to you as panic held you in its overbearing clutch. The world grew dizzying and just when you felt like your heart would give out, right then and there, a broad arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Ah, there you are, ma petite grâce. I was looking all over for you. You made me a bit worried, you know!”

It was hard to look up at him as Rook’s hat was tipped just enough for the shadows to mask his features. But your ex needed only one glance for the role of prey to be forced on him. Green eyes with a gaze so sharp, so precise like a notched arrow perfectly aligned to fire, bored right into him.

It didn’t take much time before the ex backpedaled away with his tail between his legs, now only leaving you with Rook.

Rook would face you, gripping your forearms firmly. His expression, soft though. He called out for you, trying his best to snap you from your daze. When you finally realized it was him now before you, your body moved on its own before you could think. A heaviness made you fall against his chest. You shivered, maybe tears and sobs escaping you.

Rook held you so close against him. Like he was cradling a sculpture of the most delicate porcelain. As if one scratch or knock would crumble you into fine dust.

A single hand held the back of your head protectively, letting you weep as much as you wanted against his shirt. His chin nestled along your hair. You would be so blissfully unaware of Rook’s gaze. A complicated stare into space as his mind swam with many thoughts.

Rook always found beauty in the oddest of places. Yet for the first time, there was something Rook found utterly detestable. A vile image that was a blot in his picturesque vision and that was your ex, the source of your pain. But from that ugliness, he did find a most exquisite sensation. A drive to hunt. An unyielding need to protect you.

While he couldn’t spring into action earlier, his quarry was marked. A hunter is patient and he can wait as long as he needs to for one slip-up, one more attempt to dare get near you, and Rook would be sure to let loose a vicious arrow.

There is a tension between you and Floyd on certain days. While most times, it would be all fun and games, just him and his little Shrimpy. But Floyd wasn’t blind to the weight you carried.

It would irritate him on a dime when you obviously had thoughts clouding your mind. So much so that you fidget anxiously or not even pay attention to him. His sharp voice would call over the din of thoughts and you’d see the eel practically inches away from your face.

His dual colored eyes glared at you and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “Geez, what the hell is goin’ on with you!?” He doesn’t mean to be so crass, but to see his Shrimpy unsettled, it frustrated him. 

Moreso that he can’t exactly pinpoint what was going on with you, that he can’t just squeeze it to a pulp and boom, no more problems!

He knew you had your walls and such walls took time to lower to let him in. Floyd had the patience as a waiting moray eel, but if he had the proactiveness to actually act upon his patience? That’s a whole other story. When it came to you, he just wanted to see you happy and unbothered. All reasoning would flutter out the window.

It may or may not have taken a lot of squeezing and thinly veiled threats to your friends for them to fess up information you couldn’t bear to unload on Floyd. A common name would be passed around, an ex from your past. Just the thought that someone else had their hands on you nearly made Floyd break bones if not for the pitiful yelps of your friends to release them in time.

Questions whirled in that skull of his. Why have you never brought this up to him? What did this ex do to you that made you shy away from him? Where was this scumbag now? All of these worries would bleed into his daily life and if it weren’t for Jade and Azul to straighten him out, he would have been throwing tantrums left and right.

It wasn’t until one day that all his frustrations would come to a boiling point into a final, satisfying crescendo. At least for him.

Work was to be done at Mostro Lounge. Floyd was on duty to be a waiter along with yourself. Both of you have opted to be in an awkward silence in your relationship and it was evident by how you both avoided one another, unsure of how to really talk about your issues.

Floyd had taken an order from a particular student, one he could easily sniff out as a rude bastard by his mannerisms and his tones. But if Floyd’s temper got the better of him, he’d never hear the end of it from Azul. He would hand off the order to you to at least serve drinks.

Everything seemed normal until suddenly a glass shattered. All eyes shifted to you who shivered in place. The tray rattled in your hands and below you a cascade of broken glass.

“Y-you…” “The fuck…? What the hell are you doing here!? And look at what you did to my drink! You’re still incompetent as ever, tch!”

You wanted to cry, scream, run away. You felt so ashamed, being treated like garbage again from an ex you swore you’d never let walk all over you again. But at the height of stress, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for yourself. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic…

That is until a sing-song, nonchalant voice slid right up behind you. “Ahhhh, what a shame. I apologize on the behalf of our lil waiter here. They’re just nervous is all. Here~ Why don’t I make it up to ya? I can serve ya a drink right here, right now. On the house~” “Finally, some decent fucking service…”

You looked up at Floyd and saw that dangerous glint in his eyes. How his pupils honed on the poor fool as his smile widened so tightly across his face. He reached for a spare glass that was left on the table, presented it with a flourish to your ex, and coyly said, “Readyyyy~? Watch carefully.”

Then, his hand flew so quick to grab a clump of your ex’s hair and slammed it squarely on the glass. The crunch of glass, your scream, and the screech of chairs being pushed back as patrons jumped.

“GYAHAHA, YOU LIKE IT!? IT’S MOSTRO LOUNGE’S OWN PERSONAL RED. Ahhhh, but the red comin’ from you? Pfft, it ain’t worth the shit under my shoe…” Your ex could barely register what was even being said to him from the glass embedded in his face and blood gushing from his nose and broken lips.

Hands covered your mouth in terror as you could barely register what was happening. From panicked students screaming to Azul and Jade holding Floyd back from beating the poor ex to a pulp. All you could really register was the horrifying satisfaction deep in your chest, seeing the one who hurt you so much battered under the hand of someone who protected you…

Leona has his own ways of caring but most of the time, if you cannot read between the lines, it may come off as uncaring.

He does care, but don’t expect a coddling man rushing to be your knight when you are feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing he wants to do is pity you as he knows all too well the humiliation of being pitied.

Instead he observes, he watches, he’s keen to everything you do that isn’t a part of your daily life. In sly ways, he tries to break your moments of dissociating. He calls your name sharply to snap you out of your funk and gives you a menial task.

Telling you to maybe preen his mane, join Ruggie on an errand, what have you. It’s better to keep yourself occupied than whatever is plaguing your mindscape.

Sometimes, he will even abruptly lean against you, his weight toppling the both of you over. Even if you protest under him, he will insist he’s really tired and just wants something warm beside him to help him sleep. In truth, it’s just another way to stop your self-deprecating thoughts.

Though he will speak up in annoyance if your depressed thoughts start to bleed into your relationship. It will sting, but he means well. He tells you gruffly that he’s not in the mood to lay next to baggage. He wants only his partner, dammit.

You may argue, you may not, it depends on how you react but at the end of it, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him and this problem that hangs over you.

If you take time before approaching him or spill everything in one go, he will wait patiently and listen. But cowardice by running away he won’t accept and would want answers promptly.

One way or another, the truth has to come from you and you explain the thoughts that coil around you like a petulant serpent. A name and face that digs into your chest horribly. Your ex and the ways he has hurt you in many ways.

Leona listens stoically, letting you share your story before acknowledging and commending the strength it took for you to finally admit this. He knows all too well the pains of the past, he shares in your frustrations. But the past stays in the past for a reason.

Now it’s you and him now. You define yourselves here in the present. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’d like to see them try.

Who would have known that such a time would come so soon when one day, someone had the gall to start harassing you right in the Savanaclaw dorm.

That same face that always lingered around you like a ghost was here right now in the flesh, taunting you at the edges of the Spelldrive field. Your ex sneered at you, wondering what the hell you were doing around here during his practice hours. Had the nerve to accuse you of stalking him despite your split.

Your anger boiled your blood, your face flushed. Your nerves alighted with a burning fury that made the dorm’s dry heat pale in comparison. But your body did not respond to you. Your throat froze despite wanting to curse and yell out at your ex.

What neither you expected though while your mouth gasped for something, anything to throw at this scumbag, was a lion’s roar peeling across the field. A shadow loomed over your ex and both of you looked up to a silhouette blocking the sun and a pair of piercing green eyes.

Astride his broom, Leona stared squarely at the ex. “For a minute, I thought I heard annoying squawks from a mangy vulture, but now I just see a whelp. Having the nerve to approach my partner…”

Without missing a beat, Leona lowered himself to the ground and sauntered right over to your ex. Your ex tried to stand his ground but anyone could tell he was practically shaking in his spot.

“So.... What were you two talking about?” It was such a simple question. So trivial. But the way Leona spoke each word, it was like a pair of hungry jaws were ready to snap behind every syllable. He dared for your ex to slip up.

“N-nothing… Nothing at all… I was l-leaving…” “Hooo?” Leona’s tail whipped behind him in amusement. “So you just waltzed up to my partner and gawked at them? Nothing left your useless, flapping gums? I can hardly believe that.”

Leona’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hand and for a quick second, you swore you saw wind and dust particles gather between his finger tips. The air felt still and you heard your ex gulp audibly from a dry throat. Then, a sudden calmness.

“But if you were just about to leave, then by all means, scurry along. I hate people wasting my time.”

To which your ex immediately did, turning on his heel, so close to make a run for it. Then, like a giant paw slamming atop a helpless mouse, Leona’s hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“A warning since I’m feeling so generous today… Don’t ever let me catch you near them again. Ya hear me? Or else, I’ll make you a nice addition to the scenery. We could always add more sand and bones.” Leona cracked a toothy smirk with darkness in his eyes. His fangs glinted in the sun and it was then you truly realized the fierce lion you had taken in as your boyfriend.

[tomionefinds]

Hi! Any recs that is royalty-themed? Either Hermione or Tom is from royal blood. Even better if there’s a possessive/jealous Tom. Thanks!

Here are some royalty recs! - Haus

Light of the Moon by Maloreiy (admin favorites)

T | Complete | 69k

King Riddle needs a bride, and he has declared he will marry whoever is smart enough and strong enough to solve his magical riddle. Written for the Tomione Fest, hosted by the Tomione fanfics Facebook group. Tied for the winner of Best AU, and tied for the runner-up of Best Cover Art.

Nobility by Olivieblake

M | Complete | 148k

When a tyrannical king takes the throne by the blood-stained tip of his sword, two women find themselves tangled in his search for power. Who is the pawn and who is the queen, and what will they sacrifice for love? Hansy/Tomione, eventual Dramione. Royalty AU. COMPLETE.

The Girl with Everything and the Boy From Nothing by bunnystealsyourcarrots (also an admin fave)

M | Complete | 36k

A Tomione Medieval Au where a lord from nothing and nowhere surrounds the castle of a princess with the intent to take everything from her brick by bloody brick.

Serpentine Moves by Betagyre (not quite royalty but peerage)

E | Complete | 357k

Medieval Norman Conquest AU. Fourteen years after eloping with a Muggle, Merope Riddle, of an English wizarding noble family, discovers that she and her son are the last of the line, so she petitions for her title and fiefdom back. Meanwhile Lord and Lady Granger are minor nobility who want their daughter taught magic, but Lord Malfoy, appointed by William the Conqueror to rule English wizards, won’t allow an unattached Muggle-born to study alongside young purebloods at Hogwarts. Merope and the Grangers make common cause and betroth their children, thwarting him for now. But war is coming, and a long, dark path lies ahead.

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down (I'll Crawl Home to Her) by TMRiddles

T | One-Shot | 4k

He's her bodyguard with a nasty secret, and she's the heir to Magical Britain's throne. This is the five times he saved her and the one time he couldn't.

Pearl by Imotales

M | One-shot |3k

In search of pearl Tom Riddle finds his treasure. Inspired by a scene of an incredible Indian movie 'Padmavat' Regency era romance between king Tom aka Voldemort and princess of a small country. Tom doesn't fall in love. No, he only seeks to use and covet. Or is he? Is it the greed of a king or falling in love at first site wrapped in the skin of want by a dark wizard who doesn't know the meaning of love?

[kckt88]

Blood & Cheese.

Summary:

In revenge for the death of Luke, assassins invade the Red Keep and tragedy soon follows.

Warning(s): Fear, Grief, Mourning, Blood, Devastation, Child Loss, Funeral, Burning of Bodies.

Word Count: 2250

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/A Time for Grief/The Gullet & Harrenhal and the Rivers, but can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

With the acquisition of Storms End, the majority of the houses in the Reach were quick to pledge their support and bend the knee in favour of who they believed was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

Of course, Otto’s little campaign featuring Vaera didn’t hurt matters either.

The eldest daughter of Rhaenyra, and wife to Aemond supporting the rightful King was enough to convince some of the more fickle Lords and sway them to the Greens.

But the Warden of the North Lord Cregan Stark had honoured his father’s oath and bent the knee to Rhaenyra, and with Winterfell, the rest of the North were quick to follow. The Vale had obviously declared for Rhaenyra, as her mother was an Arryn and Lady Jayne would not turn against her kin.

There was also the Velaryon’s that were a constant matter of contention during the council meetings. Corlys had instructed his fleet to blockade the Gullet and seal it off, preventing any seaborn travel and trade.

Food was becoming scarcer by the day, and it was only a matter of time before the people of Kings Landing would rebel against their King. Something which Rhaenyra and those advising her were obviously counting on.

What’s worse, was the council had just received word that Daemon and his forces had taken Harrenhall. The odds were in Rhaenyra’s favour, and she knew it. The Greens had to act fast otherwise Rhaenyra would be successful in seizing the Iron Throne.

Aemond meanwhile was preoccupied with trying to find out what had happened to Lucerys, but no matter who he beseeched for information, none was forth coming. Somebody had to know something, but they were keeping quiet and it frustrated Aemond no end.

Yet listening to the council members arguing was beginning to grate on him. Every strategy they’d put forward had failed them. Rhaenyra was winning and it would only be a matter of time before she amassed enough support to invade Kings Landing and kill all those who conspired against her.

Aemond feared for the lives of his wife and their sons. He would gladly give his life for them, but what about after, would they be safe from Rhaenyra’s wrath or Daemon’s for that matter.

The Rogue Prince was proving himself a formidable foe, one that garnered respect and fear. Clearly Rhaenyra’s most valuable asset, the day she’d dispatched Laenor Velaryon, and married Daemon was the best strategic move she could have made.

Aemond couldn’t help but think of Vaera in that moment, his sweet wife. She had truly blessed his life; she’d given him two beautiful sons and gods willing she would grant him more.

Aemond didn’t know if he wanted to be a father, especially since his own hadn’t been any kind of father to his children except his beloved Rhaenyra. But Aemon and Rhaegar were everything to him, the love he felt was boundless. He couldn’t wait until his boys got older, he could train them in the ways of the sword, educate them in the history of House Targaryen and stand proud as they mount their dragons Brightfyre and Valaerys for the first time.

Suddenly a frenzied squire burst into the council chambers.

“Apologise Your Grace. But the nursery. T-The children”

Aemond was instantly on his feet, the feeling of terror turning his blood cold as he raced towards the nursery with Aegon and the Kings guard following close behind.

“DADDY” shouted Rhaegar.

Aemond desperately kicked at the door as hard as he could. The screams of Vaera, his mother and sister could be heard echoing down the corridor.

“PLEASE. NO. KILL ME. I BEG YOU” screamed Vaera.

Aemond could hear Rhaegar screaming hysterically as he continued to kick the locked door.

“NO. NOT HIM” shrieked Helaena.

“H-Helaena” exclaimed Aegon.

“DADDY. WHERE ARE YOU?” shouted Rhaegar frantically.

“Daddy’s here. I’m coming” replied Aemond desperately.

“NO”

Suddenly the screams stopped and there was only silence.

Aemond looked over at Aegon who’s face had gone awfully pale.

“TOGETHER” shouted Aemond as Aegon gave a sharp nod.

Aemond and Aegon gave the wooden door one last kick, the wood splintering as it burst off its hinges.

As soon as the door gave way, nothing could have prepared Aemond for the sight that greeted him.

Alicent was huddled in the corner, desperately clutching Rhaegar, Maelor and Jaehaera. Her eyes red rimmed and wide with shock.

The blood, there was so much blood on the floor. Flowing in every direction.

Time seemed to slow down as Aemond caught sight of his beloved wife sitting on the floor, her body rocking back and forth.

Aemond collapsed to his knees beside Vaera and screamed as he saw what his wife held in her arms.

The lifeless bloodied body of their son.

Aemon’s once bright amethyst eyes were now devoid of life, his tiny neck split open to the bone.

“V-Vaera” cried Aemond as he reached for his wife.

“Our boy. They took our boy” wailed Vaera as she clutched Aemon’s body.

“JAEHAERYS” screamed Aegon as he collapsed to the floor beside Helaena who was weeping silently as she held the body of their son against her.

“T-They came through the wall” whispered Alicent.

“What?” gasped Aegon.

“We-We couldn’t stop them. T-They killed the boys” sobbed Alicent.

Aemond’s head snapped towards the gap in the stone wall and without a second thought he withdrew his sword and took off down the passageway with Ser Criston following close behind.

How long had it been? Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

Vaera had lost all comprehension of time, as she held the body of her son against her.

The sounds of muffled voices never registering as they passed by like the wind.

Vaera refused to let go of Aemon, she held him close, her lips pressed to his cold forehead.

“V-Vaera” whispered Aemond as he crouched down in front of her.

When had he returned?

“He needs his blanket. He’s cold” muttered Vaera as she rocked back and forth.

“We’ll get him one” replied Aemond, his hands shaking.

“Blue”.

“W-What?” asked Aemond.

“He doesn’t like green. He likes blue” whispered Vaera closing her eyes.

“Ok, I’ll make sure he gets his blue blanket”.

An unknown amount of time seemed to pass before a blue blanket was slowly handed to Aemond.

“I’ve got his blanket” said Aemond softly.

“C-Can you wrap him up. You always did it better than me” murmured Vaera.

Aemond nodded slowly and unfurled the blanket. He held out his hands, waiting for Vaera to let him take Aemon.

“I-I don’t want to let him go”.

“I-I know” replied Aemond.

Vaera placed a gentle kiss on Aemon’s forehead before she passed him to his father.

Aemond couldn’t help the sob that escaped him as he took Aemon in his arms, his sweet little boy was really gone.

After placing a kiss on his little boys forehead. Aemond gently placed him on his blanket and wrapped him up. Taking extra care to make sure it was done the way Aemon liked.

“W-We need to let the silent sisters prepare him” whispered Aemond.

“C-Can you take him” replied Vaera.

“Yes” said Aemond softly as he clutched his sons body in his arms and rose from the ground.

As he carried his son’s body, Aemond couldn’t help but notice how light he seemed. Such a tiny little thing, now gone from this world.

Aemond tightened his grip on his son’s body as he walked wordlessly through the corridors. Maids and servants alike silently bowing their heads in respect for the fallen Prince.

Vaera watched as the silent sisters prepared and wrapped Aemon’s body.

“N-Not his head. H-He doesn’t like the dark” cried Vaera desperately.

The silent sisters obeyed and left Aemon’s head free of the wrappings, once they were finished, they bowed respectfully and left Vaera and Aemond alone with their son.

“M-My boy. My sweet boy” sobbed Vaera as her bloodstained hands reached forward and she fell to her knees in front of Aemon’s body.

Aemond moved to sit behind Vaera, and he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around his wife’s chest, holding her tightly and keeping her grounded while she cried.

“H-He’s gone. Our sweet boy” gasped Vaera between the sobs that wracked her chest uncontrollably. So uncontrollably that Vaera could no longer speak at all. Could do nothing but cry, face dripping tears and snot whiles she struggled to breathe, clinging to her husband like her life depended on it.

Long minutes passed, stretching on into an hour. Longer. How long, Aemond didn’t know. All he knew was that his wife never stopped clinging to him. Never loosened her grip. Even when Aemond started sobbing himself, their shared overwhelming pain near unbearable as they mourned the loss of their son.

The entirety of the Red Keep had been put on high alert, no one in and no one out unless it was absolutely necessary.

The goons that had murdered the Princes had been apprehended by Ser Criston and Aemond in their attempt to flee and were now languishing in the black cells.

Aegon had demanded that they be tortured for information, and despite their initial stubbornness both Blood and Cheese began to crack as the torture intensified.

They named Daemon as the one who had arranged for the assassination of both the young Princes, in revenge for the deaths of Visenya and Lucerys.

It was claimed that the news of Viserys death and Aegon usuring the Throne had sent Rhaenyra into early labours and after hours of agonizing pain, she had delivered a stillborn deformed half human half dragon monstrosity named Visenya and after the death of Lucerys, Rhaenyra had gone mad with grief and ordered Daemon seek retribution for her fallen children.

Vaera and Helaena had barely spoke a word since Aemon and Jaehaerys had died. Both mothers lost to their grief.

Whilst Alicent took to caring for Jaehaera and Maelor. Vaera wouldn’t let Rhaegar out of her sight and would scream like a banshee if anyone dared to try.

Rhaegar was also suffering in the wake of his twins death. He had nightmares and would only sleep if he was sandwiched between Aemond and Vaera. During the day, he would hover around his mother, clinging to her skirts as she sat staring into space.

 Even though he was grieving for his son and nephew, Aemond had to remain strong, yet inside he was a wreck. He kept waking in the night to ensure that Rhaegar was still breathing, and taking care of Vaera was immensely difficult.

He had to force her to eat and drink, he even had to force her to use the toilet and bathe. It broke his heart to see his once bright wife, withering away into nothing and Helaena wasn’t any better.

It turned out that she had been forced to chose between Jaehaerys and Maelor, and in her desperation she had chosen Maelor only for Blood to slit Jaehaerys’ throat instead and now she couldn’t bring herself to look at any of her children.

The funerals for Jaehaerys and Aemon were a sombre affair.

Otto had wanted to show the people of Kings Landing the work of ‘Rhaenyra the cruel’ but Aemond knew it was not only in poor taste when the people were without food and starving but neither Vaera nor Helaena would manage it.

So, the funerals were as private as they could be. Although whispers of ‘Rhaenyra the cruel’ were heard across the realm. The ruthless Black Queen who had her own grandson and nephew murdered in order to secure her own claim to the Iron Throne.

As Vaera wouldn’t allow Rhaegar out of her sight, the boy attended the funeral of his brother and cousin. Tears silently running down his pale cheeks as he gazed at the body of his lost twin.

Aemond’s heart had been in his mouth when his sweet Rhaegar requested to say goodbye to his brother.

So, Aemond lifted his son into his arms and took him over to the funeral pyre.

“Geros ilas lēkia” whispered Rhaegar (Goodbye brother).

Aemond squeezed his eye shut at the sound of Rhaegar’s sweet voice.

“Avy jorrāelan” said Rhaegar sweetly (I love you).

Rhaegar suddenly lurched forward and gently placed his stuffed dragon teddy on his brother’s wrapped body.

“So, you’re not alone” muttered Rhaegar as he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on his brother’s forehead.

“Come on sweet boy” said Aemond as he carried Rhaegar back to his mother.

Off in the distance where Vhagar nested, Aemond could hear the sorrowful cries of a hatchling dragon.

Aemon’s dragon Brightfyre had been devastated by his bonded riders death and spent days screeching and shrieking before he too succumbed to the grief and now spent his days coiled with Valaerys or Vhagar.

It was decided that Cannibal would burn Aemon and Sunfyre would burn Jaehaerys.

All through the funeral ceremony, Vaera hadn’t left Aemond’s side. Her fingers entwined with his as the High Septon performed the proper funeral rights.

When it came time for Cannibal to burn Aemon, there was a moment where Aemond didn’t think Vaera would be able to give the necessary command.

But after a few moments of silence.

“Dr-Dracarys” said Vaera loudly.

Aemond tightened his grip on Vaera’s hand as he felt her shaking.

“Dracarys” urged Aegon.

Both dragons let out a mournful noise before their maws opened and the flames enveloped both Princes bodies.

[noirandchocolate]

Headcanons About My Master Kohga’s Mama—

Named Hotaru (“firefly”), as I’ve mentioned on a few past posts. Her family has a tradition of insect names. Not everybody in the line has had one, but it’s common enough among them that if you read Clan records and notice somebody named after an insect it’s very likely to be an ancestor of hers.

Was adept at making and then administering poisons, both via subterfuge in food, drink, touches, etc., and via daggers and kunai. She studied under the Clan’s master apothecary for the poison making part. Kohga’s father was one of her mentors on the stabbing people part.

In fact, one of her earliest flirts with Kohga’s Dad (while his own mother was Master), was to, after bringing him over a bowl of food in the Complex’s dining hall, watch him take a few bites and then claim she poisoned it “to see if the stories of the Heir having an uncannily strong constitution were true.” Dad panicked, then laughed his ass off when he realized she was joking. That was what clinched his interest in her romantically.

Hotaru had very long, wavy hair (for real, not as part of her usual magic disguise, although I do not know at this time if it was really black or if that was disguised) and was very meticulous about caring for it. Around the Complex (ie not on missions when she was younger), she’d often have it done up in complicated styles and decorated with hair sticks/pins and kanzashi.

She’s responsible for Kohga’s extensive skin- and hair-care regimes. She washed her lil’ boy’s hair and showed him how to finger-comb and -curl it into pretty, neatly flowing coils and then wrap it up in the style he still does today. <3

I’ve said this before but Hotaru was a musician! She’s the one who taught Koh to play shamisen. She also taught him traditional Ancient Sheikah calligraphy. In general, she was big on preserving Yiga culture and traditions. She was an avid reader too and would go slip into Gerudo Town in disguise to buy (or, yknow, steal) books. If you gave her a good novel as a present she’d be your friend for life.

Very competitive player of the Yiga equivalent of Go. When Nana Master Kohga noticed her son taking an interest in Hotaru, she near-immediately rushed to arrange for them to marry. But not before inviting the girl to play a match against her so they could chat about her interest level. Hotaru won, impressing Nana, and declared that if there was anyone who could rein in the rambunctious Heir and be a good match for him, it would surely be someone who could best the Master herself in a contest of strategy, yes?

As a teen and young adult going out on missions, she liked to make up stories about the Hylians and others she and her comrades spied on or saw at stables/in towns. And then she’d sometimes go up to these people and use her disarming way with words to find out if she was right!

She loved foxes! Especially snowcoat foxes found up in the Highlands. Whenever she met up with any fox, if she had food on her she’d toss it a bit, and even if she didn’t, she’d gesture it a greeting. She was a quite stealthy girl, and she loved getting as close as possible to a pretty perfect white snowcoat whenever possible!

Once killed a target she wasn’t strictly supposed to have, because he tried to put hands on her. Upon reporting to her Blademaster superior, she recited the information she’d gotten and then remarked that she “also learned that he was a lech, and that leches die easily.” She did not get in trouble for killing him.

Almost never raised her voice and felt strongly about maintaining decorum even when she was joking or…well, killing people. As I said in the second linked post up there, she did not use swear words under any circumstances! Now, creative curses were another thing though. Imagine a petite, beautiful woman saying, in an even and possibly mildly sweet tone, “May you be dissolved in the stomach acid of a Molduga” after you take the last dumpling she wanted.

If it’s not obvious already, Hotaru had a dry wit and a saucy sense of humor. She was a master of one-liners. But she was fiercely loving toward her family and the Clan. She was the friend who’d tease you about not being able to handle spicy food but then who’d warn you sincerely if a certain dish in the day’s lineup at the hall had peppers in it. She was good at remembering details about people and asking after them and giving appropriate gifts on birthdays, things like that. As the Clan’s Mistress, that made her a very unifying figure.

She sadly died of what was probably a form of cancer, just shy of a year after her son’s ascension to the Master position. She was only 50. Every year on the anniversary of her passing, Kohga goes to her altar in the Clan’s hall of ancestors and plays some of their favorite songs for her, and at least one new one each time. <3 <3

[adelemadouce]

Swans and Eagles

I think I was more excited about meeting the Emperor than the Empress! Who can blame me - four weeks ago on May 18th, 1804, France was declared an Empire! And for the first time in our history, we got an "Emperor of the French"!...Napoléon 1er...the husband of my dear Aunt Joséphine, she was now Empress Joséphine.

France was in a frenzy of joy! Not since the dark years of the Revolution had our patriotism been so stirring, so hopeful and so auspicious as it was now with our radiant young Emperor!

As a relative of the Empress, I received an invitation to a welcome reception at the Château de Saint Cloud! At this reception (and it must have been one of many because all of France wanted to congratulate the imperial couple!), ...well, at this reception only relatives and friends of Joséphine were invited, especially from the Sugar Islands, Martinique, San Domingo and Guadeloupe. I had never been on these islands, and my relationship to the Empress was difficult to determine, but I was still part of her extensive family and was therefore able to look forward to the imperial reception with my husband and our son Tanguy. It was a hot Sunday in June 1804, when we were supposed to drive to Saint Cloud in our new equipage. My family, Maman, Papa and Dominique and our servants had gathered in the drawing room to admire the three of us. Duchâtel, in his sky-blue satin suit, with lace jabot, decorative sword and white gloves, was sweating like a pig. His lace handkerchief was already soaked, he asked for another one. I wore an isabell-colored silk dress that clung tightly to my belly and felt cool on my skin. I also wore a chasuble made of translucent chiffon with silver embroideries. Long white gloves, a pearl necklace and jasmine flowers in my hair. Simple but beautiful! I liked myself very much. And so does my family! As I slowly walked down the stairs and entered the drawing room, everyone applauded. My Papa cried! He was so proud that his daughter was being received by the Emperor! I kissed him tenderly, then we said au revoir! Our four-in-hand equipage was waiting...

At first I thought the Empress had invited all the inhabitants of the Lesser Antilles! I had never seen so many people in their Sunday best! Among them were aristocrats, in satin skirts, with lace cuffs and powdered wigs! We were led into the magnificent hall of the palace, the atmosphere was cheerful and loud. Music came to us from another hall, Mozart was being played. The guests lined up one behind the other in a queue, refreshments and petit fours were served. Tanguy was well behaved and calm. "It almost looks like these people have just come from Marie Antoinette's court!" said a young lady behind me and smiled. She was also pregnant! "Yes, indeed," I replied and smiled back. "It seems like the old days are coming back!" Next to her stood a man in uniform, he seemed to be her husband. "Family or acquaintance?" the young woman then asked. "Family,...from Martinique," it somehow didn't come easily to my lips. She looked at her husband, then back at me. "My family is close friends with the Taschers, but we are from San Domingo. Oh...pardon!...I'm Félicité de Fodoas, and this is my husband, General Savary!" The man bowed slightly. "I am Adèle Duchâtel,...my husband, and this little rascal is my son Tanguy!" Félicité looked down at my son, who was wearing a light blue suit like his father, a small top hat and a bouquet of violets for the Empress. "What a sweet boy! When are you expecting your second child?" Before I answered I looked at Duchâtel, he was talking to another man, so I could talk freely. Duchâtel hated it when I talked about my pregnancy. "It should be the end of August," I said. "Mine won't keep me waiting that long," she put her hand on her round little belly. We laughed and had a pleasant conversation. Until we entered the Grand Salon and the court chamberlain called our names. "Monsieur et Madame Charles Duchâtel!" I had caught a glimpse of the Emperor a few minutes earlier, but now I lowered my eyes because I didn't want to appear too curious. At Duchâtel's side, I took small steps towards the throne, then we stopped. I let go of Tanguy's little hand, and I sank into a deep curtsy. I kept my lashes lowered for a long moment. It was only when I heard Tanguy rushing towards the Empress that I looked up. He held out the violets to her and Aunt Joséphine was delighted! "Bonjour mon petit prince!" She said in her sweet voice and pulled the boy onto her lap. But my eyes wandered to the left. The Emperor stood next to his throne. I immediately lowered my eyes again. "Please, Madame..." I heard his voice above me and looked up to him. "...rise! You are carrying the life of an unborn child, that requires consideration!" Duchâtel took my arm and carefully pulled me up. But I no longer saw my husband. I looked at the Emperor and I only saw him!

"Your Majesty,...my unborn child will remember Your kindness with deep gratitude for the rest of his life!" His eyes were fixed on me. The Emperor Napoléon was a completely different person from the gloomy, thin General Bonaparte I had once met. Again, I tried not to show too much curiosity. But, God! I was so curious about him! "Why do you wear so little jewelry, Madame?" he then asked me. "I told you...," Duchâtel snapped at me from the side, "...you should wear the large parure...not pearls...I told you!" Duchâtel wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Your Majesty...I beg Your forgiveness....but my wife has a mind of her own...and..." But the Emperor ignored Duchâtel. He looked at me, unfazed. "Well, Madame?" he insisted. I stretched and put my hand on the side of my belly. "Sire, I'm wearing the most beautiful jewelry a woman can wear!" I was now brave enough to meet his gaze, but when our eyes met, something happened that touched me deeply and left me in the greatest confusion! Something had happened in that moment. But I didn't know what it was...I just couldn't take my attention away from him. And he seemed to notice that there was something about him that captivated me. He seemed to want to find out...

It was the friendly voice of the Empress that freed me from this strangely pleasant situation. "Adèle...I've put you on the list of my future ladies-in-waiting. Are you happy?" My heart was pounding. It was the day of miracles!!! I leaned forward, took Aunt Joséphine's hand and pressed it happily to my cheek. "Your Majesty, there is nothing greater for me than serving my Empress!" I smiled at her radiantly. Even my little Tanguy laughed!

Yes, it was the time of miracles that had now begun for me. Just one week after my first meeting with Emperor Napoléon, our paths crossed for the second time. It was another sunny Sunday when I drove early in the morning in my light purple riding dress to the Hippodrôme in Longchamp to go for a ride in the Bois. Andrian, my stable boy, was already waiting for me with my mare Poupette, fully saddled. It was to be the last ride before the birth of my child and, at Duchâtel's request, Adrian was to accompany me with a horse from the stables. It was fine with me because I liked Adrian very much! He was a young lad of fifteen, who dreamed of becoming one day one of the Emperor's hussar. Adrian was very good with horses and an excellent rider. I really hoped his dream would come true! On this sunny summer morning we rode into the woods at a moderate gallop. The air was wonderful, it smelled of fresh greenery. At this early hour there were hardly any people in the Bois. As we came to a crossroads, we heard the hoofbeats of other riders in the distance. My Poupette neighed! I looked in the direction of the hoofbeats and was frightened - it was the Emperor, with a small entourage! I reined in Poupette and my horse stopped. Adrian stared with wide eyes in the direction of the galloping Emperor. Adrian finally jumped off the horse, fell to his knees in the dust and clutched his tricorn hat to his chest. I didn't know where to look first, at the Emperor or at Adrian? My horse pranced restlessly. I pulled on the reins and patted Poupette's neck. The Emperor brought his horse to a halt in front of me. "Your Majesty!" I called out kindly and bowed as much as I could in my saddle. "Madame...to see you here? At this early hour...in your condition?" The Emperor wore a uniform, but no coat because of the heat.

His companions, Grand Marshal Duroc and General Rapp also wore no cloaks. I looked at the Emperor and tried to smile, my heart pounding so loudly I was afraid he might hear it. "Sire, it is my last ride before giving birth!" His spanish stallion pranced restlessly next to my little mare. "Madame, you must promise me that! Turn back immediately! It is truly irresponsible to ride in your condition! If you were my wife, I would not allow you to do so!" He said these words very seriously, but he didn't seem to be really angry. I saw a kindness in his eyes that overwhelmed me. And my heart beat even louder! "Sire, I promise! Your desire is my command!" Did I really say that? The Emperor turned to his companions and the men grinned. The Emperor immediately turned back to me. "What is the name of your horse, Madame?" I patted Poupette's neck again. "Her name is Poupette, Sire!" He nodded. I saw a furtive smile on Grand Marshal Duroc's face. The Emperor, however, did not take his eyes off me. "One day, Madame, you and your....Poupette...will accompany me on a ride in the forests of Fontainebleau! But now, turn back immediately and take care of yourself! Think of your child...for my sake!" I swallowed. Our eyes locked so deeply that I thought I was drowning in his gaze. What a sweet death! I came to my senses and nodded vigorously. "Yes, Your Majesty...I will ride back immediately! I thank Your Majesty! From the bottom of my heart!" He finally smiled. "Good, Madame! We will meet again..." He turned his horse, glanced at Adrian and said: "Stand up, boy!" Then he and his officers galloped off, leaving a cloud of dust behind. Adrian and I looked at each other. But we were too confused to say a word...

[seadragon-sailing]

The Crew From Guangzhou: One Problem After Another

Previously

“Careful, Jim!  We’ve still got more to go!” Livesey declared, barely able to keep tabs on the cabin boy in the midst of getting crowded.  

“Right, doctor!” Jim nodded dutifully right before managing to land a knifehand strike to an opposing pirate’s neck, leaping back to regain some space, but then went stumbling forward and hit the ground after colliding with the massive pot-belly of another enemy.

“Game over, you little brat!” The pirate mocked, raising his sword high above his head, eyes piercing the redhead’s with a paralyzing malevolence that made Jim shrink back on instinct.

For a split second, Jim could hear the screams of dismay coming from his friends, but none of them could move fast enough to stop the man in time.  Jim could have sworn that his whole life flashed before his eyes as the cabin boy braced himself for a most horrible end, fear gripping him so tightly that all he did was flinch in place with a mind buzzing full of questions that he knew would never be answered.  And then, there was a nauseating sound of a metal blade slicing through skin and flesh… But, Jim felt absolutely nothing.  A heavy THUD shook the nearby floorboards, followed by another hefty THUMP that landed right in front of where Jim was standing, still curled up defensively in place.

“Hey!  Open your eyes, you’re not dead yet!” A distinctively feminine voice addressed Jim, emphasized by a gentle hand resting on his shoulder to make him look at whomever seemed to appear out of thin air to save him. 

Finally willing himself to relax his defensive posture, Jim cautiously opened his eyes to the sight of an even stranger-looking woman staring at him while being backed up by her fellow crew.  Her coffee black hair was chopped short and had a couple noticeable bald spots, she was petite in height yet visibly muscle-bound, and sported a few rugged scars on her otherwise soft-looking face.

“Come on, your family still needs you here,” She beckoned urgently through a lopsided smile, quickly ushering Jim back towards Livesey, Trelawney, Smollett and Ben who practically dropped everything to gather around him now that the dangers were finally thinning out.

It felt as if they had been fighting for an eternity.  All three boats were floating in an endless sea caught up in an explosive altercation, but it became two crews against one, and by the end, Gold Tooth and his men became outnumbered.  The tables had turned.  Now, what few pirates left standing were cornered by the strange cavalry, the remaining stragglers quaking in fear knowing that there was nowhere to run unless they would rather meet their ends by throwing themselves overboard.  Sadly for those pirates, there would be no fair trial offered.  

All of the Hispaniola crew had expected casualties back on the island, and here on the very deck of their schooner would be no exception.  With every last pirate slain, the loose ends were neatly tied.  None of Gold Tooth’s men were left alive, and in the end, Gold Tooth himself joined them after being bested by Feng and Silver.  Just like that, it was finally over.  Livesey, Jim and Trelawney huddled together in a group hug when it was safe, silently thanking god that they survived the ordeal while Ben continued to keep a lookout for any potential new dangers lurking in the dust clouds that were slowly fading away.  

All was finally quiet and calm, save for the creaking of the wooden boats swaying with the waves.  That was, until an eruption of victorious cheer broke the eerie silence.  Looking all around them, the army of people who aided them in defeating Gold Tooth and his crew were celebrating in a round of joyous hurrah.  Many were wounded, some were missing from the scene, but others were still standing and soaking in the afterglow of battle.  

“Are any of you wounded?” The one lady inquired, making herself known among her celebrating comrades by approaching the men. “I don’t think we’ve been in a battle that intense in quite some time…” She attempted to joke while letting out a relieved sigh. 

“We’re all still in one piece and breathing, ma’am!  But, who are you? Who are these people?” Jim spoke up affirmatively, gesturing to the crowd around him and his friends.

“My name is Kyung Woolf, it's a pleasure to meet you.  These are my crew mates, we’re here to help you all!” She replied, bowing respectfully out of instinct to the group of five before she noticed Feng and Silver making their way over to reunite with the others, and gave a more slow and deliberate bow in salute to Feng.  

Captain Ippuki now held a burlap sack by the ropes tying it closed, both Jim and Trelawney grimaced when they noticed that whatever was contained inside of the bag was oozing dark red liquid.  Smollett stared at it for a moment, already having a hunch just what it was.

“Captain Ippuki, the civilians are all safe and not in critical condition,” She informed Feng, appearing to smile happily at the news she delivered only to frown the moment she noticed that Feng’s side had a mild wound from getting grazed by a bullet. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get the infirmary once the more urgent of us are tended to,” Feng dismissed without needing Kyung to say a word. “We’ll need to check for any casualties on our side, but for now…” His focus suddenly shifted to Silver. “Care to explain what happened, One-leg?”

“You already know why I’m here, Ippuki.  That treasure hunt you and Gold Tooth heard about didn’t go to plan, and now I’m awaiting trial,” Silver bluntly answered, puffing out a cloud of smoke after re-lighting his pipe. 

“That would explain why your crew is gone…” Feng shrugged, pausing to aim his suspicious glare towards Ben, narrowing his eyes at the other in puzzlement. “… Ben? Ben Gunn?” 

The disheveled former pirate hid behind Livesey when he was recognized, clearly remembering Feng despite how long he’d spent marooned on Skeleton Island.

“Silver, we have matters to discuss.  My good man, would you please excuse us?” Smollett interjected, doing his damndest to stay cordial while his blood pressure rose from still being in the dark.

The captain of the Hispaniola didn’t even wait for a response from Feng before he grabbed Silver by the collar of his coat to drag him over to his side, only stopping momentarily to definitively get Feng’s permission to call for a group-huddle before he began shoving the other five men to a non-crowded section of his ship.  In the meantime, Feng’s crew had finished their rejoicing a while ago.  They all knew what to do afterwards, and many had gotten a head start on looting then dumping the corpses strewn about on all three of the ships.  It was going to be a long cleanup…

[wcrriorhearts]

The heat of the day was slowly making way for much cooler night air, as Elaena pushed past slaves and merchants at the market square, who were packing up their stalls after a day's work. This was the best time to steal, or to get something for free. The people here knew her and called her the silver haired doll, because she was small, petite and her silver hair very unlike anything that was common in Essos. Under different circumstances it would have given away her heritage immediately, but no one expected a Targaryen princess to grovel in the dirty streets of Pentos, begging for scraps and coins. The most they would believe her to be was some unwanted Targaryen bastard that had been sent across the Narrow Sea to die and she left it at that.

When she had come to Essos two years prior with her nurse maid, things had not been this dire, but then Dinah had caught a fever and passed away during the first two weeks they had been here, leaving Elaena behind to fend for herself. Not the best situation to be in for a six year old. To this day she pretended to still be living with someone, so no one got the idea that she could be snatched off the streets and be brought to one of the brothels, where her looks alone would make handsome money for the owners. This - as she had found out quickly - happened frequently to the other children that had no homes and were left to fend for themselves,

One of her favorite merchants, a woman named Alessandria, waved her over and gave Elaena an apple, like she did almost every evening, once the market was closing. She was kind and watched out for the children that roamed the city, so Elaena felt safe with her. Taking the fruit and thanking her in Valyrian that was not entirely as corrupted as the dialect spoken here, but also not as pure as what she had been taught back at home, Elaena ventured on, until a boy her age came running up to her. His name was Malez and they were acquainted, so she was not scared he'd steal from her. "There's a man at the port asking for a girl like you. He might be the bad man", he told her conversationally, shrugging. Elaena had told him once about the 'bad man', her uncle Aegon, and his words disconcerted her. "Does he have hair like mine and purple eyes?", she asked, fear welling up in her chest. "Yes and no. His eyes are not purple. They're more...golden, like mine", Malez declared and Elaena froze. There was only one person she knew who looked like that. "Uncle Aeron", she spattered, dropping the apple and starting to run.

The way to the port was not too far and she made it within a few minutes, hoping and praying to the old Gods he was truly there and not Aegon, but there he was, tall, broad shouldered as she remembered, questioning sailors and passersby. For a moment she hovered, unsure what to do. She was clad in the same dress she had worn two years ago, which no longer fit, was torn and so dirty it itched every day. Her silver hair was unpleasantly long and tangled, because she didn't own a brush and everything about her was dirty. Would he recognize her?

"Uncle Aeron!"

@bruiisedpetals

[charlenasaxen]

Favorite Quotes - Draco Veritas pt. 2

the image of Draco, shirtless, unknotting the tie at the waistband of his pajama bottoms, branded itself

just because someone has wavy white-blond hair and sculpted cheekbones this really cute way of sucking on a quill

"You know, this casts your desire to see Draco up against a wall into an entirely new light."

He wanted to play with dice. Ron did not want to play dice. It was a stalemate.

he was so beautiful: all that pale hair fired with sunlight, gray eyes bright

the temper tantrum he had thrown over a bad haircut in sixth year was still a legend. People pointed at the scorch marks on the dungeon wall and spoke of the incident in hushed tones.

"But everyone always told my father what wonderful manners I had."

you think I don't care. You think you can push me and push me and push me and I won't break --"

lifted the veiling silvery lashes slowly up over his smoke-colored eyes

for Draco, an oversight as serious as if he'd gone out with no trousers on

But she couldn't. She loved him, she thought,

the best-looking boy in school, who was also rich, who was also popular, who was also captain.

She had decided to love him, because he had saved her, because he was beautiful

had pinched Draco in a very inappropriate place on her way down the hall

Hermione believed him. No one would lie to Draco in the state he was in.

"I put the flames out," said Draco, to whom recollection was returning in rather lurid fragments.

"With a rain of blood,"

"Then all those snakes burst out of the wall. Although they didn't get the attention they deserved, I fear, since everyone was kind of distracted by the wailing chorus of the damned

Draco was more substantial, muscle curving over bones, stomach flat, she could feel every inch of him as he slid down. He rolled casually off her and sprawled on the floor, legs apart

"No. I'm just getting started. I'm considering it as a career. Whining for England."

If I'd dropped it into my lap we'd have a national tragedy on our hands."

the small fat man who had once been his pet rat

the narrow line of pale gold that ran from his navel

sometimes when Draco worked up one of his really blinding smiles, even Ron would look dazzled momentarily

because everyone would be looking at Draco Malfoy anyway

Did you know Malfoys are forbidden on pain of death from wearing powder blue?"

Draco Thomas Hephaestus St. John Vivian Augustus Malfoy, III, Esq.

"Is it true?"

"Yes," Blaise said. "I have seen Draco naked on a number of occasions."

Draco had subsided into a full-on sulk. "You are tired of me," he declared.

he walks like a duck! I never walk like a duck. I prowl, I strut, I slither, I glide -"

'BE QUIET.

if he actually knew where he was going, or if it was merely that the sight of expensive things relaxed him.

Ron took the opportunity to open his robe and do a brief and disrespectful naked dance.

a willowy blond aristocrat with languid eyes and a voice that sounded like Galleons

"Are you threatening me?"

"Maybe," Draco said.

"With what, exactly?"

"I'm not sure," Draco admitted. "I thought it would be more effective if I kept it vague."

her eyes sparkling. "Draco!"

she shrieked. "Draco, mon petit! I have missed you so very very much!"

they'll all want to be on a team."

"You're on a team," Hermione said darkly

spoil the line of your trousers." He examined his nails. "I usually wear nothing under my Quidditch cords."

his jumper rode up as he raised his arms, showing the bare skin of his flat stomach.

flung her arms around Draco's neck and kissed him on both cheeks. Fleur's Draco-favoritism was so extreme as to be almost funny.

"Send them back where they came from," Viktor snapped.

"It's on fire where we came from," Draco pointed out.

"True," Draco said. "I've been withholding sexual favors from him for years and look how angry he is at me."

"He has a girlfriend?"

I can't believe this, Ron thought. I've been kidnapped by the forces of evil and everyone is still discussing bloody Draco Malfoy's bloody sex life

"Hurt you?" she said. "You have, I think, been hurt enough." she whispered against his cheek, and began to unbutton his shirt.

"I'm not scandalized. It's just - you look good."

"Well, that's hardly headline news."

"I'm NOT jealous," Hermione snapped. "I just don't like the idea of her seeing you naked."

"Neither was I," she said. "I guess you're right. I am like you."

limited to 'Are these snakes poisonous?' and 'Hey, cute thing, can I buy you a beer?'

"was he hung about with crucifixes?"

"He was hung about with the Malfoy boy,"

"Don't sell yourself short, Potter," Draco said. "I'm sure someone with your obvious talent for imbecilic misjudgments will be making even bigger, better mistakes in future."

"I had a pet bird. It died. My father killed it, actually. I ran away from the Manor. My father sent the hellhounds to drag me back"

the wreck of his clothes, the ruin of his beautiful hands.

"What gives you the right to tell me what to do?" Draco snarled.

"I love you," Harry said. "That's what."

Soon there would be nothing standing between himself and the poison but his own failing strength.

"Oh, no," Harry exclaimed, aghast.

Draco was scarlet with the effort of not laughing.

that the one person in the whole fucking world that you can't do without, can do just fine without you?"

I told you I couldn't stand to leave you, that it was the greatest punishment I could imagine for myself

[the-funky-punkin-blog]

I needed a quicky pfp for a chat, so I made this. I did discover, in the process of looking for source images, that there aren't nearly enough appreciation pics for this boi's smile and that needs to change Also I needed to get that Dekuzawa thing off the top of my page.....

[goshikitsutomusmommy]

I’m not sure if you’re ok with trend requests but can you please write for “I have a boyfriend, he goes to a different school” trend with haikyuu boys? Like obviously faking having a s/o with any characters of your choice, if not, then please ignore this💕💕 your page is so cute btw🥰🥰

“I Have a Boyfriend, He Goes to a Different School” Trend with Haikyu!! Teams

Synopsis : You Lie About Having a Partner and This is How the Haikyu!! Boys React

Genre : Comedy , fluff

Pairing(s) : Inarizaki x Manager! reader , Seijoh x Manager! reader , Shiratorizawa x Manager! reader

Word Count : 0.76k words

Warning(s) : She/her pronouns used

Masterlist Link : Here

“Yeah, actually, just letting you know... I have a boyfriend who attends a different school, in a different prefecture as well.", you announce as the entire Inarizaki members have bewilderment written all over their expressions.

The Miya twins happened to be the first to break out in laughter. You cannot help but feel somewhat offended, querying what could be so hilarious about you having a significant other.

Soon Suna follows over in their laughter with muffled snickers of his own, which encourages Ginjima to join in as well.

Ojiro being the gentlemen he is, attempts to showcase an earnest expression out of respect. However, the quiver of his bottom lip threatening to betray him tells you a whole different story.

"Oh, that's pretty interestin'! How long have ya been dating? Can we meet 'im?!" Akagi guilibly believes your trickery.

"Am pretty sure that [Name]-Chan here is just jokin' 'round, ya know 'er, so silly!" Atsumu quickly steps up and puts an end to the false narrative Akagi accepted.

"Why wouldn't she have a boyfriend? [Name]-Chan is the prettiest person ever! Anyone would be lucky to be a potential partner of 'ers.", you could feel hot tears on the brim of your eyes approaching to disappoint your frantic efforts.

"Akagi-Senpai, yer the best! We don't deserve ya," you exclaim as the tears glide down your face. "Excuse me while a go cry in the storage room now. Miyas, am beating ya identical dunces in a moment.”

   "Everyone, I have an announcement to make; I have a boyfriend that goes to a different school, he lives in another prefecture too. You probably never heard of him.", you declare to the Seijoh boys as you meet their doubtful gazes.

"Liar." Kyotani 'Mad-Dog' Kentaro quickly accuses you before you could dupe any person in the room. "Why wouldn't I have a significant other, huh?" you challenge immediately after.

   "[Name]-Chan lying about having a boyfriend is none of our—" Oikawa was instantly interrupted by a harsh thud of a volleyball smacking him in the back of his head. "Whether or not she has a partner is none of your business, Shittykawa." Iwaizumi criticizes the Aoba Johsai captain for conversing so condescendingly with their manager. 

   Matsukawa and Hanamaki were lovingly cheering in your favor for finally accomplishing your long-awaited mission of getting a significant other. They were a charming pair that you were more than honored to be a friend of, unlike the so-called charismatic captain of Seijoh.

Yahaba appears to be disheartened by the news he had just overheard. Meanwhile, Watari tried his best to reassure his friend that he's still got a chance in the long run. 

   Stirring in your lap, Kunimi wakes up due to the commotion his team members have caused. "What happened?" he groggily asks, evidently fatigued. "Nothing, just letting the team know about my boyfriend." he hums in response, nuzzling his head back in your lap, planning to rest once again.

It was moments like these that you couldn't help but compare him to an adorable petite kitten.

"Hey, what did I miss?" Kindaichi asks, perplexed. "I have been betrayed by my lover!" exclaims Yahaba as Watari holds him back from tackling you in an embrace.

   "Prepare yourselves for have I, [Surname] [Name], have pitying news to present; I have a boyfriend, he attends a different academy in a whole separate prefecture. Now, don't be too upset. It is only reasonable for someone like me to have a partner." you declare, obtaining your presence heavy and sharp throughout the Shiratorizawa enormous gym. 

   Reon nods hesitant, baffled as to why you're asserting your relationship status so dramatically. "Yeah, right." Shirabu lets out an inaudible scoff.

   Goshiki stares at you with stars in his eyes, "You're so cool, Senpai! I always knew you would be the first to get a partner. You're pretty, and your confidence radiates so flawlessly." he praises with the slightest blush adorning his chubby cheeks.

   You silently coo at how charming he unintentionally is, pinching his cheeks— more like dragging him around by his cheeks, leading them to redden even more than they previously were. Semi promptly comes to his Kouhai's rescue and attempts to peel your hands off of his cheeks.

   Tendou laughs at the scene in front of him as Goshiki rubs his now numb face, and you being at the receiving end of another lecture via Semi about not harming your Kouhais— no matter how cute they are at that moment.

Ushijima joins in his best friend's laughter with soft chuckles of his own. He wouldn't replace this for the world, and he loves the team dearly.

Author’s Note : KAHZWJS THANK YOUU AND YES YES I’M MORE THAN OKAY WITH TREND REQUESTS😚😚 I hope you don’t mind me doing this to my top three favorite Haikyuu teams! This was a very fun idea, thank you for wanting me to write this🫂

[immawraffle]

Zevwarden Week

Day 4: Alternate Universes

Modern AU of my Lost in Dreams fic. Inspired by the “send your cutest pizza boy” story.

            “Move over!”

            “You move over!”

            “Your elbow is digging into my side!”

            “Well, maybe you should’ve bought a bigger couch!”

            “Both of you, shut up!” Anuriel yells over Jowan and Hadrian as they fight for dominance over the popcorn bowl while they wait for the movie to start.  Maybe it was a bad idea to try and fit all three of them in a shitty apartment in downtown Denerim, but it was the best they could afford after aging out of their foster home together.

            They had been working for years to build a case against the templar caretakers—collecting signatures, compiling testaments, and petitioning the Seekers—and last week it had finally all paid off when Kinloch Hold got busted for countless cases of grievous abuse and negligence against their charges.

            The fall of one Circle generated a domino effect, with the branch in Kirkwall serving as the turning point in the fight against the institution itself.  There were even allegations being leveled at the Chantry, their biggest charity donor.  It was practically a minor revolution given how widespread the ripples were.

            Now that things have finally calmed down a little, they have time to celebrate their achievement by marathoning Star Wars—a time-honored tradition that served the dual purpose of drowning out the neighbors’ uncomfortably loud and healthy sex lives.

            The title card plays, and just when they’ve all finally managed to settle in nicely, Hadrian perks up and declares, “I want pizza.”

            “We had pizza last week,” Anuriel argues.  They need to stay under budget so they can afford next month’s electricity bill, and bingeing on junk food isn’t the way to do that.  If they can save up enough money, they might even be able to move into a better apartment.

            ‘One where the walls aren’t so thin,’ Anuriel grumbles internally.

            “Yeah, but that was last week.  We haven’t had pizza this week yet,” Hadrian refutes, sticking his nose in the air and crossing his arms like a petulant child.  “I’m ordering pizza.”

            “Are you getting House of Repose?  I love their pineapple pizza,” Jowan garbles around a mouthful of popcorn.

            “First of all, chew with your mouth closed, for Maker’s sake, that’s gross.”  Hadrian wrinkles his nose in disgust.  “Secondly, only weirdos like pineapple on pizza.  Like you.  Or Orlesians.  And thirdly; no, I’m ordering Antivan Crows.  Everyone knows Antivan pizza is the best.”

            Anuriel frowns at Hadrian as he clambers ungracefully over the back of the ratty couch and into the kitchen, where the computer balances precariously on the edge of the table.  “You can’t order Crows, it’s too expensive.”

            “No, no, it’s cool, Lily gave me a coupon for Wintersend,” Jowan announces.

            Hadrian stops dancing between the old coffee cups littering the floor to turn around and stare at him incredulously.  “Your girlfriend got you a coupon for Wintersend?  A pizza coupon?”

            Jowan blusters, face turning a splotchy red in embarrassment.  “W-well don’t pretend like yours was any better!  Your creepy goth girlfriend gave you a tracking chip—that’s a red flag!”

            “Your face is a red flag,” Hadrian snipes back, returning to his perilous journey towards the kitchen table.

            Anuriel rolls her eyes at their childish antics and refocuses on the tv, trying to tune them out so she can actually hear the actors over the tinny speakers.

            “Hey, what should I put in the ‘special instructions’ box?” Hadrian calls back once he’s finished placing their order.

            “Tell them to send their cutest delivery boy,” Jowan suggests.

            “Oh, I didn’t think you were into guys,” Hadrian ribs him.  “Things not working out between you and Lily?  Was it the coupon?”

            “Very funny,” Jowan sneers.  “No, I just think ‘Nuriel could benefit from meeting some new people.”

            “I meet plenty of new people,” she scowls at him defensively.  “I certainly don’t need you matchmaking for me.”

            “It was just a suggestion!” Jowan defends.  “I’m only worried you’ll be lonely when Hadrian and I have Morrigan and Lily over and you’re all by yourself.”

            “I can entertain myself just fine, thank you,” Anuriel replies icily, turning back to the tv screen definitively.

            “Okay, I’m done ordering.  It should be here in about twenty minutes,” Hadrian pipes back up a few minutes later.  Anuriel hisses when he steps on her toes while inching his way back around the couch, sending him a deadly glare.

            Closer to thirty minutes later, the buzzer rings.  “I’ll get it,” Anuriel declares, standing quickly so as not to be subjected to yet more shuffling and pinching.  She walks briskly over to the door and opens it to be greeted by an elven man with golden blond hair and a roguish grin.

            “The Crows send their regards,” he greets her cheerily.  “I am to assume that you are the one who requested the Crows ‘send their hottest delivery boy,’ no?  I cannot say I am not pleased to be designated as such, or to be summoned by such a beautiful woman like yourself.”

            Anuriel experiences all five stages of grief in the span of three seconds.  “Hadrian!” she shrieks, turning back to glare at his silhouette over the couch.  The only response he rewards her with is a fiendish cackle.

            “Ah, so this was not of your doing then?”  He sighs dejectedly.  “What a pity.  And here I was thrilled to be subject to the whims of a deadly sex goddess.”

            Anuriel makes a choking noise in the back of her throat, cheeks flushing red.  She was not ready for this.  She was really not ready for this.  Damn Hadrian.  She picks up a boot from next to the door and lobs it at his head when she hears his laughter renew.  He cuts off with a swear as it makes contact.

            Anuriel reluctantly turns back to the admittedly handsome elf in front of her.

            “I—sorry, I just—pizza.  Give me the pizza… please,” Anuriel finally says defeatedly.  One would think she’d be more eloquent, given the number of lectures she’s given at the local college.

            “Your wish, my command, my lady,” he bends shortly at the waist as he hands her the pizza.

            “Thanks.  Have a good day,” Anuriel hurriedly closes the door before she can embarrass herself further, scurrying back over to the couch with her prize.

            “A ‘deadly sex goddess,’ hmm?” Hadrian hums with laughter dancing in his eyes.

            “Not.  A.  Word,” Anuriel bites out, sitting down and tossing the lid open, allowing the heavenly aroma of pizza to spread throughout the room.  In doing so, her eyes latch onto an incongruent piece of paper fluttering down from where it was stuffed in between the lid and the box.  Bending down, she picks it up and unfolds it to see a string of numbers, a messily drawn heart, and the name “Zevran” written in flowing cursive.

            Anuriel makes another noise like a dying cat and shoves it into her pocket before either Hadrian or Jowan can see.  She can’t stand any more teasing at the moment.

            Who knows, maybe she’ll work up the nerve to ask him out for coffee sometime.

(They meet up later at the university she works at, where he’s studying part-time to become a massage therapist 😉)

[cognacdelights]

you give me problems [2]

the romantic tirades of indie routledge series masterlist

my outer banks masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

kathleen by catfish and the bottlemen

summary: during one of the hottest days of the summer, indie decides to taunt her brother’s best friend with a provocative performance involving an orange popsicle. 

warnings: implied sexual content. dirty talk. cursing.

She had perched herself on the battered, cedar wood steps of the porch - directly in his line of vision. A mischievous glint illuminated her wide doe eyes as they met with his for a brief, succinct moment, before he continued his conversation with her brother. The petite brunette was very much aware that her perfectly positioned, bikini-clad body remained in his line of sight; the tattered and torn camping chair - which he had claimed as his thrown several months prior - faced her almost front on. With a playful grin gracing her make-up-less complexion, she brought the orange-flavoured popsicle to her lips, a sinfully brilliant scheme echoing through her twisted mind.

At first, he didn’t pay her much attention - assuming that she was using the fruity, frozen snack as a means of cooling down her rising temperature. After all, it was a necessary commodity during the peak of the summer months. Thermometers across the subtropical, Mid-Atlantic paradise had reached well above thirty degrees celsius over the last several days, and there was no expectation of an Arctic weather front dominating the heavens any time soon. However, as his unsuspecting, cerulean eyes wandered the familiar, mundane scene before him, they couldn’t resist diverting themselves back to the sun-drenched vixen.

With her dark, salacious eyes concentrated purely on him, her tongue leisurely circled itself around the tip of the fruit juice popsicle. The motion itself was painfully slow, allowing her taste buds to thoroughly indulge themselves in the tangy, citrus juices that liquified under the pleasant warmth of her tongue. A devilishly angelic smirk etched itself into her roseate features, before continuing her performance. Taking the very tip of the popsicle into her mouth, she began to suck lightly, running her tongue along the circumference to remove the slushied ice in the process.

She could feel his acute, searing gaze on her, scorching her exposed skin as it glimmered ever so slightly under the relentless ultraviolet rays from above. The rugged, blonde-haired boy shifted his weight around in the beer-stained camping chair, bringing the half-consumed bottle of Heineken up to his lips in a half-hearted attempt to disguise his discomfort. Of course, if anybody were to question him on the subject, he would never admit to viewing his best friend’s sister in such an alluring, sensual light because, well, she was his best friend’s sister; there was an unwritten rule that adamantly declared that sisters - both older and younger - were most definitely off limits. And he knew this, all too well - yet he couldn’t tear his enraptured gaze from that damn popsicle.

Teasingly, the audacious girl ran her tongue in one continuous, gradual stripe down the length of the popsicle, until she encountered the unpleasant, earthy taste of the sodden, wooden stick. She cocked her head to the side, almost innocently, as her taunting eyes flickered upwards - confirming that she still held the raucous blonde’s full, undivided attention. As his yearning, indigo eyes bore attentively into hers, she took the span of the melting ice block into her mouth. Once again, the movement was languid and sultry; it was a precarious manoeuvre, especially considering that her older brother, John B, and the remaining members of the self-appointed Pogues were seated just several feet away in the matching polka dot deck chairs that they had borrowed from the neighbours.

The cold, chilling sensation of the ice touching against the back of her throat sent invigorating pulses of energy through her scantily clad silhouette. Continuing to push the popsicle further inside her salivating mouth, she allowed the orange-infused ice to force it’s way down her trachea until she had completely devoured the entire thing. Steadying herself, she denied the raspy gagging sounded that was desperate to surpass her juice-coated lips the satisfaction - internally silencing it. Not only did she want to prove that she could handle it, but she was cautious of alerting the three other Pogues to her seductive escapade. Retrieving the citrus-flavoured ice stick from her throat, her movements remained slow and sensual as a stray droplet of fruit juice meandered down her chin.

Her tongue began to trail nonchalant, lascivious circles around the length of the popsicle, savouring the sour, tangy juices. His clammy, bear-like hand grasped the beer bottle tighter as he fought with all his might to suppress the fervent, inflamed sensation that had gradually overwhelmed his toned, athletic body. Involuntarily chewing on the already chapped skin of his bottom lip, his clouded, hazy eyes hovered over Kiara, his head nodding in agreement along to her impassioned rant as he feigned interest in her words. However, only a meager few seconds had passed before he found himself devouring the unholy sight of the golden-complexioned temptress once again.

His eager, cobalt eyes observed intently as she proceeded to take the fruit-flavoured ice pop into her juice-stained mouth for the second time, valiantly sucking on the bittersweet juices before retrieving the melting popsicle from the cavities of her cheeks. It was an achingly languid cycle; in and out, in and out, in and out. A low, lustful growl clawed desperately at the back of his throat - craving to be released into the fresh, salt-laced air that surrounded him. With his hardening dick beginning to press against the tight constraints of his patterned swimming shorts, he couldn’t resist her suggestive, raunchy taunts much longer and stood from his dirt-covered camping chair.

“Where are you going?” Kiara questioned his sudden movements - her dark, feathery eyebrows knitting themselves together into a inquisitive frown. She brought the green-tinted bottle up to her lips as she took a swig of the cheap, bitter-tasting beer, as she waited expectantly for his response. Her murky, sable eyes followed his chiselled, sun-kissed silhouette as he waded through the pile of discarded, empty beer bottles and cans - making his way towards the porch steps.

“I gotta wring it out,” he answered with a casual shrug of his shoulders - his lust-filled, cerulean eyes avoiding hers at all costs. Although he deployed his most convincing, mundane voice, his perjurious words rolled off his tongue with a subtle uneasiness detectable in his inflections. The slight waver in his gruff, raspy tone would be his downfall, which was why the scruffy-haired blonde had opted for as little words as he could manage; the less words he uttered, the less chance of detection. The less chance he had of gravely violating his eight year long friendship with the wavy-haired, brunette boy he had come to love as a brother.

The parched, dried-out grass crunched under the pressure of his scuffed, workman-style boots as he neared the sprightly girl residing on the uneven porch steps. With her wicked, flirtatious eyes fixated on him, she continued her slow and sensuous assault on the fruit-flavoured ice block - forcing the tangy popsicle to hit against the back of her throat as she, once again, swallowed the diminishing span. His halted in his tracks, crouching down so that his ravenous, indigo eyes were level with hers. They bore resentfully deep into hers as his tongue lasciviously traced itself across the chewed-up line of his bottom lip.

Leisurely, she pulled the orange-infused popsicle from the depths of her throat as a saintly, mischievous smirk dancing its way across her blemishless complexion - tugging the corners of her rose-tinted lips upwards. Her peach-toned lips were swollen from the exaggerated contact with the contrasting, cold snack, and stained with the glistening, fruit-infused nectar. With her fingers still clenched around the saturated, wooden stick, and drenched in the sticky, citrus juices, she tilted the remains of the orange-flavoured popsicle towards the defeated blonde, “want a lick?” Her voice exuded innocence, yet still carried sultry, velvet undertones. She knew damn well that she was coaxing him further towards the edge - and she was basking in every second of his sexual torture.

Tenderly, he brushed his calloused thumb over the delicate skin of her chin, wiping away the wandering trail of fruit juice, “behave.” His usually playful, light-hearted tone was stern and demanding as he brought his thumb up to his thin, chapped lips. Dragging his tongue across his juice-soaked thumb, he lapped up the pleasantly zesty syrup, before continuing to make his way towards the Chateau’s entrance. His footsteps were heavy and lumbering as they ascended up the several uneven stairs - however, he had merely reached the vicinity of the open doorway when she spoke again.

“Say that again, but with your hand around my throat,” the words flowed so casually from her swollen mouth, yet her tone reflected yearning and desire.

“What was that?” he challenged her coarse, suggestive words as his loud, burly footsteps came to an immediate halt. His untamed eyebrows raised out of pure awe, despite his unsettled expression being out of her sight - her salacious demands catching him completely off guard. The shaggy-haired blonde kept his back to her, refusing to allow her the satisfaction of witnessing his now quite obvious erection as it left a visible imprint against his swimming shorts.

“I said,” she peered over her exposed shoulder, her voice sugary and honey-like as a chaste, holy grin etched itself into her sun-soaked features, “it’s a nice day, we should go out on the boat.” From his toned, well-worked back muscles peeking through his off-white t-shirt, to the loose clenching of his meaty, ring-clad fingers - her insatiable, corrosive eyes scrutinised every inch of his slim physique.

“That’s what I thought,” he replied plainly, before disappearing through the abundance of clutter - into the bathroom.

[shuuenmei]

partner

TWST OC Week Day 7: AU

BEFORE WE BEGIN:

For the last day of TWST OC Week, I picked AU and after some brainstorming, I decided to pick a Pokémon AU.

Or rather, a Pokémon crossover AU where Yuu (Rei) comes from the Pokémon universe instead.

This was a personal AU I had in mind for some while but placed on a backburner since I wanted to focus on the main fic first.

But with TWST OC Week, I thought it’s a good chance to revisit the AU again.

Without further ado, here we go!

I’m glad to be doing this event and it’s been fun!

Yuu doesn’t know what to expect when a seemingly mutated, talking, Shiny Zorua threatened to burn her if she didn’t hand over her clothes.

She only realized that she wore a whole robe and new attire, but internally panicked when her bag wasn't around, nor the fact that she has no Pokéball at hand.

So she had to trap the unknown monster back in the coffin she initially awoke to before escaping.

By luck, she met a petite, but older than he seemed student who healed her burns but the monster chased after her before being stopped by a man who claimed to be the Headmaster of this strange academy she was brought to.

“Ah, I found this bag and belt with peculiar looking metallic balls attached to it earlier, they must be yours, yes?”

The Headmaster waved his hand to show her belt with six Pokéballs intact and sling bag.

She hastily took the items and thanked the man. “Thank you sir... it seems my things were separated from me when that monster attacked me.”

“Attacked?”

He turned to the monster and frowned. “So it comes down to the fault of your Familiar.”

What, he’s not-

The headmaster didn’t listen, but the boy...student, with her, Lilia, listened and they talked along the way.

Checking the things inside her bag and her Party on hand as they did so.

________________________________________________________________

The mutated talking Zorua burned the whole room just shortly after the talking magical mirror declared that she had no magic.

The experiences and senses she honed as a trainer being the saving grace that lets her avoid the flames.

As the whole room set into a panic, she took a Pokéball that held her longtime friend, family, and partner.

Gazing at the ball for a moment, she murmured.

“Let’s go, partner. You ready?”

The Pokémon inside it nodded at her with a resolute gaze.

With a nod, she threw the Pokéball to the air.

“Gabriel! Sparkling Aria!”

Her long trusted Primarina landed gracefully on the ground and sang, large water bubbles formed all around them, appearing out from the air and the bubbles burst.

Water spreads all over and extinguishes the flames that appeared.

“Fnah!? My flames!” The mutated Zorua exclaimed but she paid no heed to what was going on behind or around her.

She’s only focused on seeing the flames gone and snuffed out.

In spite of the chaotic situation she found herself into, she’s glad that she’s not alone.

________________________________________________________________

Gabriel made quick work on the flames and the flames are gone by seconds.

The mutated Zorua was caught and she observed a red-haired student chant. “Off With Your Head!”

A large lock shaped collar was magically put in place at the monster.

After some words were exchanged, the boy turned to her. “This is your familiar, is it not?”

The Headmaster chimed in. “Yes! Do something about him! This is your familiar is it-”

Water was blasted on his face before the man could finish.

Turning to her furious partner, she chided. “Hey! I know you’re offended that he assumed that the mutated Zorua who threatened me to go naked is part of the team but you can’t just shoot a Water Gun at anybody!”

“Eh...? He isn’t yours?” The man repeated.

“Gabriel wouldn’t have been offended enough to blast water on your face otherwise.”

“I, I see...” The man looked at her Primarina, who only gave him an angry look in return, readying another blast of water.

“Come on Gab, calm down.” She held and stroked her partner’s hair.

“Pardon me,” The red haired boy called for her, “... you said he threatened you to what?” The red haired boy questioned.

“I woke up from the coffin because that monster,” She pointed to it, “burned the coffin, and then told me to strip naked from these clothes or he’ll burn me to death.”

Silence followed.

“...If that’s the case,” A lavender haired student with the red haired boy spoke. “it’s no wonder your partner is upset enough to attack the headmaster for his wrong assumption.”

She nodded at him. “Gabriel’s my longtime partner, I’d never replace Gabriel over some mutated talking Zorua.”

“Mutated what?”

“A Zorua.” She spoke. She had some suspicion about what kind of world she got brought into but she had to ask. “Do you not have Pokémon here?”

“...What’s a Pokémon?”

Oh boy.

________________________________________________________________

With the monster who called himself as Grim sent away, her status as coming from another world where, in their words, people tame magical monsters on a daily basis, being open news to the students present, but unable to return back to where she once came from, the Headmaster lets her stay around as he finds a way to bring her back to her original world, added onto his own surprise that she is a girl, and that the academy is actually an all-boys school.

She isn’t too worried about being trapped here for the while.

If anything, once the news of her going missing goes around, the Ultra Recon Squad and those from Aether Foundation would likely go and find her via the Ultra Wormhole.

They would have gotten in touch with Selene too by then.

Meanwhile, she was brought to an unused dorm that was planned to be repurposed on a later date.

She is now looking at her PC Box via the Portable PC, a new technology from Galar that lets you open your PC anywhere and anytime that is just recently applied in Sinnoh PC’s.

Speaking of Sinnoh... she was last walking around Route 214 back home, wasn’t she?

How did she get here-

Gabriel’s nudging brought her out of her thoughts.

“...Yeah, we should make the best of things for the time being.” She nodded.

At least the Pokémon in her PC Box are safe and the PC can still be used, even in another world.

Though she had to think of how she can manage to bring some of her Pokémon out and not get them stuck in the PC Box for too long.

She got enough berries, over a hundred, she last counted, obtained from renovating her Poké Pelago for years, so food for her Pokémon and her own person wouldn’t be a problem.

She knows the basic housework and the like at least, and can cook things decently.

She also got enough clothes, be it undergarments and others.

But first…

“We got a lot to clean up, don’t we?”

Gabriel nodded at her.

Time to get started.

________________________________________________________________

She would have gotten started if not for the monster she mistook as a mutated Shiny Zorua sneaking back in, only behaving once she threatened to have Gabriel shoot water at him if he didn’t, and dealing with the resident ghosts who were bothering her, thinking she’d be easy to play around with if it weren’t for Gabriel being way powerful for the ghosts to handle.

She had to convince the Headmaster to let the monster, Grim, stay if not for the fact that he’d do more harm if he is kicked out again.

“Ah, speaking of, would you like to register Grim-kun together with you as a student?”

“...What?”

The Headmaster explained. “We have some cases where students register as a 2-in-1 student due to circumstances. Considering that of yours and Grim-kun’s desire to enter the school, wouldn’t it have worked out?”

“...No, I’d rather register with Gabriel and my Pokémon than to register together with Grim.”

“Fnah!? Why!?”

She shook her head and reasoned, staring at the Headmaster. “You’re implying as if you want to replace my longtime friend, partner and family over a stranger. I refuse to have my partners be replaced by anybody.”

She looked down at Grim next. “And honestly, you still need a lot of work to do and understand what’s appropriate and inappropriate for people. Telling people to strip naked and burn them if things don’t go your way is not it.”

“...That’s true.” The Headmaster agreed.

“...I shall register you and… who would be your main partner?”

“Gabriel.” She spoke without hesitation.

“Alright, Gabriel-kun and Yuu-san. You two will be students from tomorrow on, while Grim-kun will be on probation until he is deemed ready to be a student.”

She nodded.

Sounds good to her.

________________________________________________________________

“So you’re choosing Popplio, young Yuu?”

Yuu nodded at Hala.

She is only twelve this year.

Her parents advised her to move with her cousins to Hau’Oli city, Alola, from Sinnoh last year and she still needs some time to get used to Alola weather.

It’s too hot, and she personally missed the cold, chilly air of Sinnoh.

Then her uncle suggested she try and take the island challenge and see if she can dethrone the first ever champion of Alola, Selene, who took charge three years ago.

With little to do beyond hanging around Iki Town and wandering around Hau’Oli, with her cousins off to their own adventures, she decided she might as well take it.

The Popplio clapped in glee and hopped towards her.

She held her first… rather, second, Pokémon, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Gabriel.”

Popplio welcomed the nickname with a cheerful bark. Followed by another cry of triumph.

Gabriel stared at the newcomer.

She noticed it’s gaze and introduced Gabriel to her technically first Pokémon she befriended.

“Oh, this stardust looking little guy? The name’s Aster. Aster’s not really someone I want to use in battles since Aster doesn’t seem like the kind to like fights right now, but Aster’s a friend.”

Aster the Cosmog smiled at Gabriel, excited at the thought of having a new friend.

[greengay]

who would win in a fight, you or billie?

ohhhhhh boy.

i'm going to be honest about two things upfront. the first is that i absolutely opened this ask with the intention to immediately declare myself the victor. we are all aware of how petite and pocket-sized billie is and i have seen and read enough to know that he doesn't regularly win physical fights, he likes getting beat up, and his form is mediocre at best. it would be a lie to say i started this ask from an unbiased standpoint.

that said, the SECOND thing i am going to be honest about is this: as petty and as negative as i can be, i am willing to admit to people that a cis man is physically stronger than me. I'm under 5 foot so unless I have someone backing me up, I would look like a hamster attacking a golden retriever.

had someone asked this to me in front of a group of my peers, i would lie and say I could easily take him. i would say that i could do it blind-folded and he would end the fight defeated and turned on. that despite my diminutive size, I am a threat to him and any other pop-punk man that gets in my way. alas, I have to hang my head in shame and acknowledge that none of these things are true.

it hurts me to do so, but i have to admit that billie joe armstrong would easily win in a fight against me

[sweeethinny]

FIC COLLECTION

 First of all, I'd like to say that here are all my fics - at least the ones that I tagged correctly and managed to find - and since there are many, I had to put them all bellow the cut, I hope it gets better this way :) 

The fanfics with ** in front, are fanfics that I wrote recently

HP HEADCANON

HAPPY HOUR - HBP MISSING MOMENTS: One of Hinny's happy hours during HBP (T)

THE LAST MOMENT: What happened the day before Harry left - for the last time - with Dumbledore (M)

CHRISTMAS MAGIC: It's Hinny's first Christmas after the Battle, and they find a different way to celebrate (M) AO3

WHERE’S HARRY AND GINNY? :  Harry and Ginny have spent some time away, so when they finally have time alone, they enjoy it until the last moment. (M) AO3

**LAST NAME:  ‘I will be Mrs. Potter finally. You will no longer be the only Potter in the world. How do you feel about that? Ready to share your last name?’ (T) AO3

LAZY DAY: It's just a lazy day at the Potter house (G) 

**PETITE:  'I read in a gossip newspaper that said that you are too big for me.’ (G)

THROUGH OTHER EYES: We see them... but through other eye (T)

COMFORT: Harry was never hugged or comforted after a nightmare, so when one of the children asks for it, he doesn't quite know what to do. (G)

GREEN EYES: Ginny always wondered what was behind those green eyes. (G)

SUCCUMBING: Harry can't get his beautiful and creative wife out of his mind. (M)

THE FIRST TIME OF THREE: How Harry found out he was going to be a dad. for the first time (G) THE SECOND TIME OF THREE: How Harry found out he would be a father a second time (G) THE THIRD TIME OF THREE:  How Harry found out he would be a father a third time (G) AO3

TELLING THE NEWS: Harry knows that now more than anything, he cannot die, not when he will become a father, and for that, he needs to tell Ron the news (G)

GIN-GIN IS THE BEST: Gin-Gin is the best godmother Teddy could have (T)

THE FIRST POTTER:  The first - of three - Potter babies to be born! (T)

**SKIN: Harry wanted to be able to show Ginny, through his eyes, how beautiful she is, and how all this insecurity with her body after giving birth to James is not necessary. Since he cannot do this, he tries in other ways. (T) AO3

**FEAR: 'Doesn’t it bother you?’ Ginny looked at him. 'Doesn’t it bother you to think that… that the world is so big and everything is so much bigger than James? That we are like two giants to him? Our garden must seem infinite through his eyes.’ (G)

JAMES AND HIS 15TH MONTH BIRTHDAY: Ginny is distraught when she realizes that her son will be 15 months old. The same age when Harry became an orphan (T)

THERE’S STILL A LOT OF SPACE: James Sirius is growing up, and Ginny wonders if there is still room for her, in his heart (G) (FLUFFFFF)

JAMES’S SICK: James is sick, and this is disturbing Harry's peace (G)

**GOLDEN DRESS:  'I feel like today is going to be different,’ Ginny promised, holding Harry’s hand and making him look at her. ‘And maybe we can do everything you wanted to do when you saw me in the gold dress for the first time?’ (T)

DEVIL IN DISGUISE: Ginny talks like an angel, walks like an angel, and acts like an angel. But Harry knows that she is the Devil in Disguise (T)

HARRY'S PROMOTION: “You know that if I’m getting this promotion, it’s thanks to you, don’t you?” (T)

**DISNEY: Draco and Astoria go to Disneyland, and Draco proves to be a man who doesn't like roller coasters (G) AO3

**THE COUPLE OF THE YEAR:  The two were arm in arm, walking in silence like two kings, without even seeming to notice that everyone stopped to watch them pass (G)

HAPPY B-DAY GINNY POTTER:  On Ginny's 39th birthday, she couldn't be happier to be alive. (G)

HARRY’S PENSIEVE: James S. travels through his father's saddest memories (T) (TRIGGERS FOR: DEPRESSION, DEATH, BLOOD, SELF-MUTILATION)

HARRY IT’S SUCH A GOOD FATHER: Harry can’t say no to his children, especially when they are bored (G)

MOM’S ADVICE: James has questions to ask, and who better than his mother to help him? (G) (cofcof my favorite by far cofcof)

BECAUSE IT’S THE GODFATHER’S JOB: Ron has a mission as a godfather, and he couldn't leave his godson helpless (T) PART II

I MUST NOT TELL LIES: Just a normal Potter day, when Lily Luna asked about Harry’s scar (G)

THE WORST / BEST BIRTHDAY: Some things have changed since he was 12 and lived with the Dursleys. Harry now has a family, and birthdays are not so lonely anymore (G) AO3

**INTIMATE PROBLEMS:  ‘Harry.’ Teddy cried when Harry opened the door to their room, still wearing his pajamas and looking sleepy. If it weren’t for the look of panic, he would have thought the boy was sleeping on his feet. ‘My balls hurt.’ (T)

TEDDY IS DISCOVERED: Bill can be an understanding and calm guy ... but that doesn’t include when his daughter is with someone hiding in the room (ted x victorie) (T)

HARRY IS THE BEST FATHER: Moments in the life of James and Harry, where Harry proved to be the best father (T)

STILL INTO YOU:  Some things just  make sense, and even after all this time I'm into you... Baby not a day goes by that I'm not into you (M)

ADVICES: James Sirius makes an urgent call with his father; he needs loving advice. (G) AO3

**MISTLETOE: How could he find his best friend beautiful? How was he capable of that? (G) (James Sirius x OC)

**I’M SORRY:  Mira was one of those fall that was worth it. (G) (James Sirius x OC)

**NO, I DON'T WANNA FALL IN LOVE: James Sirius faces his first broken heart (T) (James Sirius x OC)

**BAD NEWS: 'What happened?’ James asked.'The worst.’ Teddy said. ‘Vic is pregnant’ (T)

**KISSES: It felt so good to kiss him. Mira had already kissed other boys, and girls, but there was something about James that made him much better than everyone else (T) (James Sirius x OC)

JAMES IS DATING part 1 | 2:  “James is dating.” Harry said, no longer holding on to the secret, remembering non-stop the scene of his son kissing the blonde warmly, in the back of their house. (T) AO3

I’M SORRY  (Drastoria with a bit of Potters): Draco would do anything to see his son happy, even to apologize to ... someone. (G) (PART II)

GRADES: They are not at home when the bird arrives with James’ OWL grades.orJames Sirius is concerned about his future and the parents’ reaction to his idea (G) AO3

A PROTECTIVE FATHER: Harry is a concerned father, and when James decides to go to a party, he begins to doubt that that is the best option. (T)

ALBUS CAME OUT - PART I:  Albus has something to say to James. Or, the one where Albus comes out gay to his brother and they have a conversation about it (T)

**BROTHERS: Albus and James' relationship over the years (T)

PLEEEASE?: Lily Luna just wants to be with his older brother and his 'cool' friends. Who could judge her? (G)

**INSECURITIES AND LONELINESS:  Lily faces problems on her first year, problems that Ginny knows very well and knows that she will need to talk about - almost - everything about her own first year. Things are almost never easy in the beginning.(T) AO3

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HP AU

**JUST FRIENDS:  'Have you never been curious to know if you kiss well? Or if kissing a boy is different from kissing a girl?’  (T) (James x Sirius) AO3

EVEN AFTER THE END: They were alive. Right here, with Harry. Even after the end. (T)

IT’S CHRISTMAS!: It's Christmas and Harry can finally win the special gift that James kept so dearly (G)

**MUM: ‘Place your hand in mine,’ Lily said softly, ‘please hold my hand.’ (T) AO3

SIRIUS IS IN LOVE: "Do you always look at others like that?" (G)

NOBODY BUT YOU: For Sirius, at that moment, nothing the world exists but Hestia (M) 

ALL ABOUT LOVE (SIRIUS X HESTIA): Sirius is this guy that everyone thinks kisses everyone, when in fact he is much more reserved and is afraid to connect with people. But then, when he starts going out with Hestia, he feels the happiest guy for the first time in ages (T)

DRUNK IN LOVE: ‘’I’m going to declare myself to her!’’ “You are drunk!”  “Is there a better time than now?’’ (Jily + Sirius x Hestia) (T)

**ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS:  'I was the one who told him to be the secret keeper.’ Sirius sighed, his eyes watering, hugging her back and this time he hid his face in her chest. 'If they had died… Because of me.’ (Hestia x Sirius) (M)

BETTER THAN FIREWHISKY: What if Harry had realized that he loved Ginny in book five? (T)

FINALLY ALONE:  ’You’re a big mama’s boy, aren’t you?“ She laughed. ‘’Lily taught you the rules well, thankfully you have me and I’m more than willing to distort you.’ (T)

TRICK OR TREAT, SWEETIE? : Halloween Special - Hinny faces a very unusual - and scary - situation on the night of the 31st (T)

WE WERE LISTENING TO THE WEEKND AND I HAD TO ASK YOU TO MARRY ME: There are things that need to be said at that moment (T)

**THE NUTCRACKER: All Harry wanted to do was take his daughter to watch The Nutcracker, but he didn't expect one of the dancers to mess with him so much. (T) AO3 

**BOSS’S SON: Ginny is an auror in training, with few hours of fun in her schedule, but when one night she decides to go to a guy’s house and enjoy her youth, she is surprised by the discovery that she had sex with her boss’s son (T) AO3

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LILY!:  Happy birthday to the woman who deserves all the happiness in the world. And for that, here’s an au where Jily lives, and Lily can celebrate her 61st birthday with her grandchildren and the whole family (G) (FLUUUUUF)

** HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRONGS!: ‘Now who’s the old here?’ ‘It’s still you, Lils, you’re older than me… I’m like wine, every year better.’ Happy birthday my boy! (G) 

REPUTATION:  Harry and Ginny don't have the best reputations, which is exactly why the two get along so well. (M)

AO3 | 1 |  2 |  3 |  4 | 5 | 6 | 7

YOU’RE THE RIGHT ONE:  James discovers that some friendships can be something more. He just doesn't know how to handle it all.  (next gen hp) (M) AO3 | 1 | 2 |

A LITTLE PARTY NEVER KILLED NOBODY:  Harry would let her end her life without even complaining (T)

EASY:  “Easy” by Camilla Cabelo (T) PART II (T)

THE ONE:  Because when Harry realizes that Ginny is The One, he needs to do something about it. Even if it is risky, because his godfather always alerts him; “What is a life without a little risk?” (T) 1 | 2

THE DUKE:  Some time ago a prophecy was made, one that said about two powerful and strong souls who would be able to defeat even the strongest of wizards, bringing peace that the Wizarding World has not seen for centuries. But for that to happen, they would have to be entwined through marriage. Everything was going well, the children were born healthy and were promised to each other, until one of them was kidnapped. (M) AO3 | FF.NET. | SIYE | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | **8

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JILYTOBER

JILYTOBER: Trapped in a broom closet (T)

JILYTOBER: Lily denying she fancies James (T)

JILYTOBER: Jily first kiss (T) (part two of the prompt where Lily denying she likes James)

JILYTOBER: At a Quidditch Match (G)

JILYTOBER: [text] [2AM] “I’m here. Come outside” (M for just a small detail that no longer has T)

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PROMPT

PROMPT JILY:  With your fantastic ability to get into trouble, it doesn’t shock me to find you here (T)

PROMPT JILY:  This is a shitty idea, do you want my help? (G)

PROMPT JILY: I want more than all of this, I want longer than forever with you. I just wanna love you. And take you on dates. And fuck you. And hug you (T)

PROMPT JILY: Simply Jily Muggle, and big declarations of love - and a runaway bride (G)

PROMPT JILY:  Banana pancakes by jack johnson (G)

PROMPT JILY:  Just… just talk to me. Please (T)

PROMPT ROMIONE: Sleep, I promise tomorrow will be better (G)

PROMPT SIRIUS x HESTIA:  Hestia realizes there’s more to Sirius than just a bad boy image (T)

PROMPT SIRIUS X HESTIA: Sirius/ Hestia as a couple in hogwarts (T)

PROMPT SIRIUS x HESTIA: Sirius and Hestia during the years at Hogwarts (T)

**PROMPT SIRIUS X HESTA: Closing his eyes and hiding under the cover like a child, Sirius allowed himself to be miserable. It was horrible to like someone, he thought, he would rather die than have to feel it again. (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  I actually wanted to get your number…(G)

PROMPT HINNY: Do you always stare at others like that? (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  A new caffe has been opened near his house and Harry is besotted with the red headed barista (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Ginny thinks they’re doing a great job keeping their house plants alive but actually, Harry has secretly replaced them with identical-looking fake plants so Ginny can’t kill them (G)

PROMPT HINNY: Kissing in a vehicle for lust (T) (with mild mentions of sex)

PROMPT HINNY:  This is definitely not my most attractive moment, but I promise I really am fit (M)

PROMPT HINNY:  (plus Romione) Let me explain. I was bored and you left me alone. (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  What Ginny would smell in her Amortentia. (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Ootp Sirius accidentally stumbles upon Harry and Ginny talking and accidentally thinking that it’s Lily and James (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Harry and Ginny come into the common room after quidditch practice and Ginny’s trying to make a bet with Harry that she can do a certain trick/trickshot in their next quidditch match (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Lily, James and Sirius react to hinny first kiss in the after life (G) 

PROMPT HINNY/JILY:  Hinny in an au where Jily and Sirius are alive (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Cho being jealous of Hinny in 6th year (G)

PROMPT HINNY: Ginny being jealous of Cho in 6th year (G)

PROMPT HINNY: How far did Harry and Ginny go in Half Blood prince? (M)

PROMPT HINNY: Harry and Ginny talk about their relationship after the Battle of Hogwarts (M)

PROMPT HINNY: Harry watching Ginny’s first league match (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Kissing in the rain after a declaration of love (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Jily were alive and James finding out that his daughter in law got a contract to be a professional quidditch player (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Please don’t die … If you die, I swear I will hunt you down in hell and bring you back (M) (For reasons of having description of blood and injuries)

PROMPT HINNY:  Ginny was a woman who kept her cool, at least most of the time, but sometimes her Weasley blood boiled like a bubbling cauldron, and when that happened, she felt out of control and took the least rational attitude of all time. And that was how Petunia was attacked by a Bat-Bogey Hex as soon as she opened the door to the house. (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get my drink and leave you alone in your bad mood. I’m sure you’ll find someone better than me /  you have 5 seconds to get off me (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Hinny kissing in a bar because they missing each other (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Harry winning Witch Weekly’s sexiest wizard alive (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  The first time Harry is called dad (G) (fluffffffff)

PROMPT HINNY:  Hinny taking 6 years old teddy to a Disneyland (G) (highly fluff)

PROMPT HINNY: Hinny and Teddy wearing matching costumes on Halloween (G)

PROMPT HINNY: Ginny's last days pregnant (G)

**PROMPT HINNY: Ron watches Harry and Ginny being new parents (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Harry and Ginny enroll their kids into a muggle Primary school the kids have a science fair, Harry helps them with it, Ginny and Arthur just being embarrassing muggle fanatics (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Have you ever died? I did a few times, it was actually quiet painful but you know what they say, no pain, no gain. (G)

**PROMPT HINNY:  He and Harry had a fight last week... James said he didn’t like him anymore.’’ Ginny looked at her mother, looking a little sadder now. ‘’Harry cried.’ (G)

PROMPT HINNY: You’re safe now. I’m with you (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Hinny dropping off James Sirius for his first year at Hogwarts (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  The boys and their dad vs Ginny and little Luna over having a sleepover with her guy friends (G) 

PROMPT HINNY: Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are? (T)

PROMPT HINNY: Dudley reviewing Harry - now, with his own family - for the first time in a few years (G) PART II 

PROMPT HINNY: Blaise's son and Lily Luna start to date, and the Potter family doesn't handle the news very well (G)

PROMPT DRASTORIA:  Death bed (coffee for your head) by Powfu for Drastoria (T)

[yeojaa]

( LOVED YOU BETTER. )

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.  

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.  

pairing.  kth x f!reader.

genre + rating.   slice of life.  an angst angel food cake with a fluffy, strawberry centre.  general.

tags / warnings.  minor (ish) character death, heartbreak, kim taehyung is bad at feelings, summer romance, abandonment issues, moving on, healing.  idk. 

wc.  4.3k

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ @snackhobi​ @midnighttifa​ 💖 i love y’all!

author note.  this was written for the 'a long hot summer' event hosted by @thebtswritersclub​.  my member was taehyung (obviously!) with the sense being sight.  this is my first project for a net, so i hope you enjoy it!  💖

He spends most of his childhood in Lyon, skirting the rivers in search of inspiration.  It isn’t Paris, his mother tells him, but it’s just as lovely - quieter and more peaceful.  She insists, one day, she’ll take him home, where his maternal grandparents are buried and she’ll show him all the parts of her world.  

The first time he paints - eleven years old, seated at the edge of the Saône with a brush held between his teeth and pigment smearing his hands - his mother is delighted.  He fills the house with his works: pretty watercolours that mimic the blue of the river, the white of boats, the amber of the sky.  She loves them and she loves him and she tells him day in and day out, offering praise as readily as he offers his heart on canvas.  

He’s sixteen when he migrates stateside, to where his father grew up and his mother’s accent stands out.  He hates it there.  It’s boring and bland and it stifles his imagination.  There are no sail boats, no rivers, no pretty girls.  The days turn grey and so does his mother, as if she’d left the best parts of herself back in France.  She still tells him she loves him, promises that they’ll go back someday. 

At twenty-one, he learns love isn’t real.  His father files for divorce and his mother withers away.  When he goes, he packs his bags and doesn’t look back.  It’s a slamming door in an already abandoned home.  Beautiful as it might be, love is nothing but infatuation - fleeting and easily broken and fit only for the books that line the study.  It exists truly, wholly, only in the blood that runs in his veins.  

At twenty-two, he realises absolutely nothing lasts, for his mother leaves too, taking her lilting laughter and rose perfume with her, buried six feet under soil she’d never called home.  Her death is a nail in the door, sealing his childhood shut.  

His father does not attend the funeral.  Hardly anyone does.  

The paintings - lovely portraits of her wide eyes and full lips, of Parisian sunsets and paved streets - are all he has.  They serve as memories, painful reminders of the woman his mother once was, of the life he’d once lived.   They fill the house that’s no longer a home - hasn’t been, for years - tucked away in a room he refuses to enter.    

His mother had called him her petit choux because he was born with dough-soft cheeks, sweet as pie.  As he grew older, the name stuck - even if the fat hadn’t, slipping off his face with each passing year.  By the time he’s eighteen, he’s uncut edges rather than honey brioche.  At twenty-seven, he’s hardened far more than she would’ve ever expected of her beloved boy.  He is week old bread, stale and hard to the teeth.

But he is still her petit choux and he thinks she’d love him regardless.

So Kim Taehyung promises to go back.  For her - to find all the pieces she’d left behind and fashion them back together.  What he doesn’t expect is to meet you along the way. 

He discovers you on a day that scorches his bones, Parisian sun shimmering pavement and cobblestone.  You are a whirlwind of colour, every shade of the rainbow presented in the glory of your smile.  You treat the Seine like a lover, living at the edges of its shores with bare feet and bare legs and a bare face that begs to be memorised.

You laugh and it’s radiant, pealing bells that ring in his ears long after noon has struck. 

You call him mon chéri like it means something.   

It reminds him of his mother and he wonders whether she ever did these same things, dancing across the grass with an apricot caught between her teeth.  He hopes so. 

“Come, come,”  you coax, with a mouth that threatens to tear his chest wide open.  It presents pretty, in shades of ruby and wine;  it draws him in, sticky sweet, and he’s defenseless to your whims.  He goes where you go, following the flow of your hair, the curtain that draws back and has him seeing in technicolour.  

He laughs when you laugh, smiles when you smile.  You bring him to all the places he’s never been:  the cobbled streets his mother once roamed, the darkened bars filled with champagne, the sunlit warmth of your bedroom where wisteria branches hang low.  He paints you in all of them - sweeping watercolours into the silk of your hair, the curve of your lips, the swell of your hips when his palms grip them tight. 

You’re an ingenue, a muse, everything he’s ever wanted.  But he doesn’t love you - because love doesn’t exist.  Not in the ways they portray on the silver screen, with heartfelt declarations and bundles of overflowing roses.  He can’t give you those things;  he’s grateful you don’t ask.

Sometimes, he thinks you might dare to.  Can see it lurking in the lovely shade of your stare, how you study him when you think he isn’t watching.  Furtive glances, made beneath the thick line of your lashes, behind the brocade of your sun-drenched strands. 

But he’s Kim Taehyung and he’s always watching - always aware.  He hates to miss a single thing.

Don’t ask me to love you, he tells you without words.  

“Should we go to Lyon for the weekend?”  

You’re draped across the bed, drenched in lavender and warm like baked pastry.  Your tongue licks cream from your lips, sweetness touched with honey.  He drinks in your every movement, dedicating them to canvas.  There’s a freckle on your knee and another just below.  One more on your ankle and three along the top of your foot.  A constellation he hasn’t named yet.

“No,”  he answers, devoid of the same delight that frolics behind your teeth.  

“Why not?”  You press, because it’s what you do - forcing each button until you find the one that stirs something to life within him.  A coin-operated boy, rusty and in terrible disrepair.  He thinks you’d be wary of the bright red warning light but you seem almost colourblind, looking through rose-tinted glasses that dress all of his actions in warmth he doesn’t deserve.  

He doesn’t answer, sweeping his brush back and forth.  Lilac filters into water, a lovely shade that grows lighter and lighter with each pass of bristles.  It’s not quite the same as your dress - a silk creation that begs to live on your skin - but it’s close enough.  He’ll settle for it.

It reminds him of the flowers in the garden back home.  Back when his mother was alive and she still breathed life into the greenery, trimming stems and drying petals.  

“I don’t want to.”  A simple enough answer.  

You wait for him to elaborate, pouting and pleading like you might break him down with the sheer force of your beauty.  If he were any lesser man, you might have.  

“Please,”  you purr, too persuasive for your own good.  You’d settle into his lap, twist his honey strands between your fingers, if not for the stare he levels you with.  One that screams be good and stay still because the last thing he wants is you ruining the painting.  He doesn’t want to start all over and the light is already waning, sun lost somewhere behind drooping branches and the gauzy softness of your drapes.

“No.”  

“Please.”

Brush to water, then to colour.  A sweet orange - the flesh of a fresh cantaloupe without seeds.  “No.”

“Mon chéri—” 

He booms out “No!” like a cannon.  It’s akin to being scolded, stilling the playfulness in your hands.  You’re ignorant to all the reasons he refuses to indulge you but you think of it as nothing but selfishness, a cold you can’t weather.  One you refuse to when flowers are in full bloom and the air outside lays a salt-crown  atop your brow.  This is your kingdom, your rightful place - you bow to no one. 

You stiffen, rise from the bed in a motion that disrupts every part of him.  Motions still, knuckles white.  No no no.  You’re ruining it.  You’re ruining—

“Get out.”

Taehyung can’t quite believe his ears - staring at you in such aghast you almost laugh right in his face.  He has the audacity to perform such theatrics after yelling at you?  How dare he!  It enrages you, brings your blue blood to a boil beneath your skin.

“Pardon?”  The sound rolls, trips, and stumbles, dirt on his palms and knees as he stares up at you.

“I said get out, mon chéri.”  You’ve unbuttoned the rumpled shirt - his, with his initials embroidered across the cuff - allowing it to drop from your shoulders and into his lap.  He glares down at it, stained now with the watercolours in his palette.  It’d be pretty if it weren’t so infuriating. 

“I’m not done.”  

You tch, a derisive sound that bites worse than your love, your nails painted in Chanel.  “I don’t care.”

“I’m not done,”  he repeats, perhaps a little lost.  It crawls out between his teeth, a lost man seeking solace.  He needs to finish this.  He hasn’t painted you this way yet, bathed in faded light.  It’s an empty slot in his album of memories.  He can’t let it go.

You’re unrepentant, dismissive.  A table turned.  “I don’t care.” 

He hates you then.  He doesn’t realise how close the emotion is to love.

He doesn’t know when his boyhood waned away, lost itself to the wind and the rivers.  He only knows, suddenly, he was not a boy but a man, a miserable soldier made to walk the plank.  He thinks it might’ve been when she died, taking the last traces of his youth with her.  Gone was the innocence, the gentility, the voraciousness;  all at once, the ease - the glory, the good - had evaporated, leaving in its place a broken boy too angular, too angry. 

He doesn’t know when his boyhood waned away, but he remembers all too well when her death had eclipsed the light, leaving him in perpetual darkness.  

It makes sense then - that his whole life is a charnel house, built on the foundation of someone else’s bones.  It’s only fitting it becomes a memorial to a long-gone mother, a weeping wife, a star burnt out too soon. 

He’s somehow still surprised when his kingdom - formidable, impenetrable, guarded - comes crumbling down, an overgrown old city ruined.  As if he’d expected those skeletons to hold him forever, to carry the weight of his desolation within their hollows.  He begs for absolution when it falls beneath a thousand leagues, lost to saltwater and liquor.  He drowns within it and it seeps, sticks, stirs - catching in his stare and trembling his fingers.  

Nostalgia comes like ghosts - old men lost at sea.

They’re dim, twilight, held behind a heavy fog.  Old memories on a carousel ride, spinning in perpetual motion.  They’re snapshots of his mother, his youth, his home.  They pass too quickly;  he can never catch them.  

Years old misery claws its way up his chest and he chokes on it each night, lying awake listening to the city groan, straining like a dying beast on its last legs.  He misses her, he misses you, he misses the person he used to be.  He aches for it - a nameless thing just out of reach.  

Something Taehyung begs and cries for until he’s blue in the face.

Something you’d given him, in the form of kisses and promises.  Something he’d only shoved you down into the dirt for - right where she was.  Because no one kept promises, and he didn’t want to hate you later.  (For loving, for leaving.)  

Instead, he hates himself, and that is a neater, cleaner way to end the story.  

He is bereft, drifting between days he has neither the desire nor wherewithal to consider. 

He sees women just like you - girls that run barefoot through the grass, fancying themselves dancers, muses, inspirations.  They laugh, they kiss, they cite vague poetry.  They preen when he asks to paint them, throwing exaggerated shapes with the lines of their necks, the flutter of their lashes.

Still, none of them are you - too soft and rounded. 

None possess the same insolence, polite phrases toeing the line of sophisticate and street urchin.  They are all wind-up ballerinas, dancing on rotation, with smiles not right, too tight.  They’re too flat, too freckled, reminiscent of rotting cherries and mint-green Ladurée bags you’d scoff at.  They leave his canvases better off bare, boring and one-dimensional.  Taehyung resents them. 

But he doesn’t love you, and he tells himself that whenever he misses you.

A victim of ennui, he slips into a pattern he abhors.  Supine lounging in the evenings, preceded only by listless wandering during the long hours of the day.  He drifts with the rise and fall of the sun, eyes blind to the beauty around him. 

Nothing feels quite right anymore - not in the way it used to.  There are no memories of his mother, no sweet tales told by a ghost.  It’s empty empty empty, only shit-stained streets and hollow bodies.

He prays for an answer, a sign, anything. 

It comes in the form of you - nearly three weeks later, beneath a stream of sunlight that casts you in chiaroscuro.  For the first time, he itches to paint.  The need thrums in his fingers, a million little nerve endings firing off.  He itches to touch you too, but he ignores that, shoves it into the deepest, darkest recess of his thoughts as he can.  He needs to focus on one thing and one thing only:  doing what he came here to do.

“Bonjour.”  It comes bare, undressed and vulnerable.  By the look on your face, it isn’t what you want.

You twist away, entire body angling uncomfortably in your effort to ignore him.  “What do you want?”  You’re cruel, capricious - a god looking upon a lowly farmhand with no offering.  It stings in a way it shouldn’t, pulls his expression into a frown before he can mask it. 

That’s better, you think.  He can practically read the smug emotion dancing in those pretty irises.

“You haven’t called.”  

“Neither have you.”  

“You told me to leave.”

“And you left.”

For every excuse, you have a rebuttal.  It’s a game of chess he’s bound to lose.  It’s as frustrating as it is enticing, stirring something warm and heavy in the cavity behind his ribs.  A little hummingbird come to life, wings beating relentlessly and kicking up all the dust of his childhood trauma.

“I’m sorry.”  It’s hardly an apology, too greedy to come the way it should.  Taehyung does this for himself, for his promise, for memories he refuses to let go. 

You see right through him.  “Are you?”  

“I am.”  

“You’re not.”

“I am.”  

“Tell me what you’re sorry for.”

The words I am are poised on his tongue and reduced to ash with your question.  He’s never had to try so hard a day in his life.  It feels wrong, messy, awful.  Every part of him compels him to rebel - to wax poetic about the things he’s done right, how what you’re asking is too much.  I cannot love you, he thinks.  

“I thought so.”  There’s nothing but disdain in your stare, turning it sharp like a knife that threatens to glide through his armour.  “You’re selfish, Kim Taehyung.  All you want is to take and take and take.  You refuse to give.”  

You’re not wrong.  He wears his sadness like a solid steel plate;  it curls around his vertebrae, writhing in his belly until he’s full, aching, complete.  He doesn’t know how to exist without it, apart from it.  It keeps him safe, satisfied, out of harm’s way.  It’s both a blessing and a curse.  

As you leave, he wonders whether it’s worth it.

Six long days pass.  Six too many, drawn out and miserable.  He aches to create, to sketch, to paint.  He calls you in a moment of weakness;  you come, nonetheless.

“What do you want?”  You repeat, mouthful of thorns and scar tissue.  

This time Taehyung has an answer.  He’s ready, confident in his recital.  It spills forth loosely, with abstract brazenness.  “I want you.”  There’s no room for uncertainty, zero leeway to be found in between the syllables.  It’s the most sincere he’s been all season, made true by the summer sun and your focused, unyielding stare.

“You want moi?”  It’s a dance with the devil - question poised like a hand.  “Do you even know what wanting someone means?”  You’re steady, unwavering, just as he is. 

He hesitates then, just barely, with a tick of his jaw, fingers curling around nothing.  You take that as weakness, delicate mouth curling into a sneer.  He sees it - all the I told you so’s poised on the tip of your tongue, ready to silence him.  He beats you to it, crashing his mouth against yours with a recklessness that thrums in his veins, sending his heart on a wild chase for that something.

He’s spent his whole life in pursuit of a feeling, a spectre, a bittersweet memory.  He thinks he might’ve lost himself along the way.

“I want you.  I want you - and us.”  

What he means to say is he wants all the things that come with it:  the bratty rebuttals, the early morning eagerness, the taste of you every night.  He wants the eyelashes on his pillow case, the lipstick stains, the scent of your perfume - citrus and nectarine blossom, cocoa butter, fresh cream.  He wants the trips to the countryside, the new memories, the paintings full of you.  He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.  He needs it like he needs air, light, art.

He needs you - his muse.  

He tells you, shamelessly, around a lump that forms in his throat and makes it hard to breathe.  “We’ll go to Lyon.  If you want to go, we’ll go.”  

The place where he grew up is different, wrapped in ivy and devoid of light.  Windows are drawn and everything leans grey, weeds sprouting beneath his expensive leather loafers.  They curl around his ankles, creep up the back of his knees;  they threaten to crush him beneath their weight.  He imagines his insides look the same - neglected and vacant.  

He wishes he hadn’t come.  This isn’t his home, his kingdom, his heart.  Not anymore.

“Come, mon chéri,”  you hum, stirring him from his reverie, pulling his thoughts through the seven circles of Hell until he’s back in the present, stiff at your side with your fingers interlaced.  You offer an affectionate smack of your lips - wine-stained and pretty - to his cheek.  He does not soften. 

“Let’s go.”  It comes despite himself, before he can help it, in a voice that isn’t his.  It’s too soft, too unsure - fifteen years younger and vulnerable.

You regard him closely, with a careful narrow of your stare.  He can read the pity there, the frustration that swims in the depths - circling sharks seeking out the scent of his blood.  It’s inescapable.  He wishes you’d stop.  He doesn’t need you to lecture him.  

Misery rises, licks up his throat like bile, and he worries it might spill out, red as the crimson sea.  Part of him wants it to - a defense mechanism he can’t control;  the other part of him knows he should swallow it down.  He has no reason to fight you.

“Come,”  you repeat, and he’s defenseless, lost to your siren song.  He steps back in time, white-knuckled and terrified. 

There are no longer peonies in the kitchen, nor roses in the front hall.  Dust settles over every surface, dry soil kicked up beneath his feet.  

Taehyung tries to recall the way his mother would busy herself in the garden, bent over her flowers like an altar.  How her knees were perpetually scarred, dirt caught beneath her nails, dark hair a braided wreath worn like a crown.  It was the only time she was anything but composed - full of light and laughter and a love for the alive.  He’d eat breakfast with her in the front yard, a shadow that would follow her every move.  Back and forth, he’d go - on his feet, with his brush, in his thoughts. 

Every painting was of her - of tulips and daisies, bare ankles and sun-kissed skin.  The shape of her mouth, the freckle on her nose.  Her delight when his father would come home. 

He swears he smells her perfume now, standing in the place he’d grown up.  He’s reminded of hot coffee and fresh bread, her fluttering laughter and brass watering can.  He’ll dream about it for days, memories rolling like a Super 8 film through his mind.

He cries I’m fine when he isn’t.  You hold him until he is. 

You sleep together on a Sunday afternoon.  

When you wake, the sun is low on the horizon and you’re the prettiest Taehyung’s ever seen you, features thrown in stark relief.  You’re salt-sweet and striking, dressed in linen whites and the shape of his mouth.  

He paints the pale soles of your feet, drawn against your leg, and the shade of your nails, a pretty colour he attributes to springtime and sonnets.  He indulges in the sound of your voice, soft and hazy in his ear.  You kiss him like he isn’t broken and you taste like memories - ones he hasn’t made yet, but desperately wants to.  He is both sinking and floating, as if you’ve taken his heart from his chest and hold it, beating, somewhere high above his head. 

He carries your perfume for weeks after, heavy on his skin.  Lingering, like you’ve become a part of him, like he’s fallen in love. 

Kim Taehyung had once surrounded himself with beautiful things - paintings and drawings and girls.  He’d thought if he fenced himself in with all things good, there would be no cracks for the outside world - the real world, full of misery and deceit - to seep through.  He’d kept his hands occupied by brushes, by thorns, by a million little material things.

He hadn’t realised all he needed was yours, warm in his. 

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.  

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.  

The confession comes at the end of summer, edges past the cage of his teeth into the quiet of the evening.  It comes and comes, so softly he thinks you might laugh, corners of your eyes wrinkling like the sheets in which you’re bare.

Maybe it’s the way your hair falls over your shoulders, a curtain he aches to part, to feel beneath his hands.  Maybe it’s the way you look at him with hungry eyes and wet lips and teeth that could crumble all of his walls as if they were made of papier-mache.  

Maybe it’s just you, skin like silk and eyes like the night sky.  

“I think I love you,”  Taehyung states, careful, with his entire heart in his hands. 

“You think?  

He nods, although he mustn’t.  He can’t, he reminds himself.

And yet he does, because there is no denying how well you fit each other’s curves, the truth that you are two pieces of the same puzzle.  He wakes up early each day with the taste of you still on his tongue, the memory of you seared into his palms.  Your body has become his home and it is real, flesh and blood, not broken bones buried six feet under.  

You fill his silence with your laughter;  it sounds like redemption and feels like hope.

Before he knows it, seasons change.

Autumn becomes a waiting room, a time between the unyielding heat of summer and the unbearable cold of winter.  Taehyung loves the quiet of it, the progression as steady as the chill that creeps beneath his clothes, within his bed - everywhere but in his head.  

He remembers his mother, his home, all the things he’s lost.  He pays homage to the woman who had raised him right but left too soon.  He finds the places she’d told him about and folds secrets into their corners.  He creates new memories, introducing his present to his past.  You call her mamman and tell her not to worry, promising that you’ll take care of him.  

He lives beneath the fading leaves that serve as a benchmark for which to measure the growth he’s undergone.  He imagines his life in film, in rolling scenes laid out in sepia tones.  He imagines weeks passing by and versions of himself doing the things he loves most.

Laid out under the copper sky, your head in his lap and a brush in his hands.  He doesn’t need to look at you - can fit you among the pages purely from memory.  The turn of your smile, the twinkle in your stare, the little freckle just beneath your lip.  He sees you in his dreams and he commits them to paper, filling his sketchbook as you fill his thoughts.

Wandering the streets, hand in hand, guided by your laughter and the smell of warm pastry.  Bare legs, echoing footsteps, the sight of your smile when he’s said something particularly funny.  You cry Mon chéri! and force a cherry between his lips, savouring the tart taste under the afternoon sun.

Upon your balcony, skin searing beneath high noon and the feel of your mouth.  He lets you paint him - sits terribly still as you show him who he really is - stripping his pretenses with each pass of your brush.  He is bare but not broken, a beautiful boy painted in earth tones and paired with intense eyes.  

Taehyung tells you your painting is beautiful and that he loves it - that he loves you.

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