#as a night owl I’m so sad

[quillyfied]

So. Spent the past week or so watching Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss. Been kinda interesting to see the polished version of these internet projects that have been kinda floating around my periphery for so long. And they both deffo have some juicy characters and meaty themes for me to sink my teeth into.

Also I need a Stolas plushy to hug into oblivion IMMEDIATELY.

[rosicheeks]

hi rosi! well, i was the anon from yesterday or whenever about the fantasy about being with you and read all your tags so like...i guess i'll be an emoji anon! i'll decide by the end of the ask which ill use i guess lmao. how was your day? i kinda wanted to ask like, so i guess you just go in your car and hangout at parking lots or whatever a decent amount, is that just to get some alone time? i forget what your current living situation is. also like what do you do for fun?! i know your a lil weed girly and you do your art (which i love btw, i want to try and buy a piece next time i get some kind of spare money) but is there anything else you like to do? i hope you had a good day whenever you get around to answering this<3 (btw i wanna smooch you i am telepathically kissing you right now) - 🎤

Hi hi hi!! Welcome 🎤 🫶💖

My day was pretty good! How was yours lovely? 🥰

Hmmm why I chill in my car is kinda complicated tbh. But I guess the main reason is so I can smoke and just kinda relax and enjoy myself ya know?

Yes yes yes I am a lil weed girly 🥰😇 and I do love my art (any sort - painting, photography, coloring 💖, scrapbooking, trying to get back into drawing)

I’m also a huge music nerd! I went to a performing arts high school and trained in vocal music. Learned a bunch of music theory and did a buuuunch of voice lessons. My goal was to be an opera singer but life had other plans.

Other than that I’m kinda boring. Just like chilling and watching shows (occasionally movies but I’m a sleepy baby so I usually fall asleep pretty fast).

[malfoyscoffee]

call me theo ౨ৎ theodore nott

pairing theodore nott x fem!slytherin!reader about fluff, angst | 1.7k words | exes to lovers warnings mentions of time skip, use of y/n, and a dumb theo

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

That marked the end of your two-year relationship with Theodore. As he said his final word, you turned away, walking down the winding steps of the Astronomy Tower, holding back the emotions until you returned to your dormitory.

The night blurred into a haze of tears, finding comfort in Pansy’s shoulder as both of you nestled on the dorm floor. Hours passed in a cocoon of sadness before Blaise, Mattheo, Lorenzo, and even Draco appeared with snacks and muggle movies, trying to lift your spirits.

Wrapped up in your distress, you didn't think to ask how they found out about your breakup. Unbeknownst to you, amidst his own pain, Theodore asked his friends to comfort you instead of him.

Three weeks had gone by since the breakup. As promised, you and Theodore went back to being friends, just like before, merely two friends within the same tight-knit circle. But beneath the surface of friendliness, your friends noticed the underlying tension between you and Theodore, silently wishing for a reunion.

It was a random morning in the Great Hall when you announced to your friends that you would be occupied before dinner to take on the extra credit assignment for Herbology. Your friends looked at you strangely, the assignment was unnecessary for someone with such high marks, but inside you wanted a distraction from everything. 

Back in the common room, the attention shifted to Theodore, the elephant in the room finally about to be addressed. 

“So, what led to the breakup?” Blaise relaxed in his chair while Theodore sighed, looking at the ceiling. 

“She didn’t say why, but she mentioned that you initiated the breakup,” Draco said casually, trying to hide his interest in the situation.

“I told her she deserved better.”

Silence.

Suddenly, Lorenzo burst into laughter.

“Salazar, Enzo,” Pansy stood, disregarding Lorenzo's reaction. “So, let me get this straight,” she pointed her finger at Theodore, “You're saying the reason the group has been down is because you decided she deserved someone better?”

Mattheo set aside his cigarette, “Didn’t expect you to be so naive, mate.”

Blaise nodded, “Thinking that's an explanation. Y/n adores you, where will you find a girl better than her?”

Theodore’s face paled, “She’ll find someone better and eventually leave me. I couldn’t handle that.”

Draco stayed composed, “So you ended it first. Well done, Theo.”

Theodore buried his face in his hands, letting out an exasperated groan. “You all know she has a promising future after graduation. Why should she stay with me and be held back?”

“Did you talk to her about this, or did your insecurities make the call?” Lorenzo’s words made Theodore freeze, lost in thought.

Pansy packed up, checking the time. “Dinner’s soon. Let’s go.”

The boys followed Pansy, leaving Theodore alone, contemplating if his decision was right for your relationship.

"I got the job!"

Strolling around Hogsmeade with Blaise and Pansy, you stumbled upon a new place—a wizarding coffee shop. Your liking for muggle coffeehouses sparked your curiosity, pushing you to ask about potential employment.

Excitement bubbled as you shared the news with your friends in the Great Hall.

“We’ve got a place to visit now.” Lorenzo grinned, aware it might bring some joy after a while.

Pansy nudged Draco, "Let’s study there. OWLS are coming up and some muggle coffee might help."

Draco glanced at Theodore, who sat in silence, unsure of what to say. “That sounds like a plan. I could use some muggle coffee.”

They all knew Draco was convincing Theodore to join.

"When do you start?" Mattheo asked between sips of hot chocolate.

You remembered your upcoming schedule, “Next week, Wednesdays and Saturdays? Once I’m trained, next Saturday, I’ll treat you all to some amazing muggle coffee."

The group agreed, planning to meet at your workplace next Saturday.

“Five cups of regular iced coffee, please.” You operated the muggle machine, engrossed in fulfilling the order.

“Oh, hey, Theodore. Are the others here?” You looked around, causing Theodore’s shoulders to slump slightly.

“They're at the big corner table. Enzo insisted the natural sunlight would help with studying…”

A soft chuckle escaped, “You can go back, I’ll bring the drinks over when ready.” Theodore nodded, returning to the café’s corner.

Blaise grabbed the first cup but stopped when Pansy teased him. “Don’t hog! Share!”

“How does it taste?” you asked, turning to your friends.

“Y/n, muggle coffee is amazing.��� Mattheo praised, soon followed by Blaise signaling he finished his drink.

“I should tell my father about this place,” Draco chimed in, and before you knew it, all the cups were empty.

“I should get back to work, see you at dinner.”

“What time do you finish?” Theodore's sudden interest surprised everyone.

“Y/n?”

"I'm done around six," You said while feeling a bit overwhelmed inside.

Theodore nodded, indicating your return to work.

Numerous customers kept you busy. Though you didn’t need money, the experience was enriching.

While your friends left at five, Theodore stayed. He moved to a quiet spot facing the counter where you worked.

Ignoring his shift, you focused on the new customers who walked in.

“Y/n, it's six, you can leave,” your boss said, offering a pastry.

“Thanks,” grabbing your coat, you started to leave the kitchen.

“Are you done?” Theodore was poised by the counter, waiting for your response.

“Theodore, did you wait?”

Signaling to walk together, he said, “I had a few assignments that I wanted to finish early so I stayed longer.” His nervous fidgeting gave away his lie, his habit you remembered from your past relationship. 

You hummed, touched by his waiting. 

“I might visit often. I didn't mention earlier, but the coffee’s great.”

Walking back to Hogwarts, feelings for Theodore surfaced since the breakup.

How could you move on when he acted this way?

For two months, Theodore kept his promise, visiting the café every Wednesday and Saturday, bringing schoolwork, and leaving with you.

You felt the emotions returning but you were scared to get hurt. After all, he initiated the breakup, right?

Your friends noticed Theodore’s absence on your workdays, understanding where Theodore was without verbal explanation. 

“One large iced coffee, please.” You prepared a cup, “And your name?”

“Theo.”

“Oh,” You looked up at Theodore. “One large iced coffee for Theodore.” You repeated his order and placed the cup down. 

“Why don’t you call me Theo anymore?” His disappointment was evident.

Meeting his gaze, you explained, “Because we’re just friends.”

Theodore observed the cup, then you.

“You know what, I think I forgot something at my dorm. I’m going to go.” His tone was sharper than he meant, leaving the café abruptly.

“Now you're the clueless one. Salazar, why do I have two of them?” Lorenzo dramatized, earning an eye roll from you.

Theodore disappeared after the café meeting. Unaware of his whereabouts, your friends gathered in the common room, waiting for his return.

“I mean, Y/n, Enzo's right,” Pansy said, sipping the muggle coffee you brewed for the group.

“He ended things months ago. I don’t see why you're all on his side.” Frowning, you didn’t grasp their empathy toward Theodore.

“Y/n, listen,” Blaise interrupted, “Regardless of who initiated the breakup, Theodore has come to your café twice a week for months, just to spend time with you.”

Draco echoed Blaise’s sentiments. “OWLS were done a month ago, yet he still visits. Give Theo credit for trying.”

You sighed, “I care for him, but I don’t want to be hurt again. He should just tell me. His actions are misleading if he doesn’t want to reconcile.”

Lost in thought, the warmth of the common room enveloped you, the crackling fire providing a soothing ambiance.

As evening approached, your thoughts circled Theodore’s sudden exit from the café, leaving you unsettled, your mind in disarray.

Unnoticed, the common room door creaked open. Theodore entered, visibly anxious. His eyes met yours, a blend of hesitation and resolve painting his expression.

The room fell silent as Theodore approached you, a mix of emotions playing across his face. Without a word, you got up and led him out of the common room.

The two of you reached the Blake Lake, facing each other, as the tension filled the air. Theodore struggled with his thoughts, torn between holding back and speaking up.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he started, a hint of regret in his tone. “I didn’t mean to leave abruptly. I've been struggling, Y/n.”

“Struggling? With what, Theodore?”

Gathering his thoughts, he spoke earnestly. “With everything between us. The breakup wasn't about not caring about you. I was scared.”

“Scared?” Your voice softened, understanding blooming within.

Theodore nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was scared that you would realize I was holding you back and leave me. So I thought if I let you go, you would be better off.”

Your heart ached, his honesty striking a chord with your own doubts. “But, Theodore, you never gave me a chance to choose. You made that decision for me.”

“I know, and I regret it every day.” Remorse filled his words, and his vulnerability was evident. “I visited the café because I wanted to be near you. But I understand if it’s been confusing for you.”

Silence hung, emotions swirling like a storm.

“I never stopped loving you,” you whispered, emotions stirring within.

He met your gaze, “I don't want to lose you again, Y/n. I want us to start over, I'll do everything to make things right.”

“Let's take it slow, Theodore. Start over and let's see where it takes us.”

A soft smile appeared on his face, relief in his eyes. “I promise, I'll do everything.”

"I've missed this," Theodore confessed softly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions.

You gently squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Me too. I think we both needed this time to figure things out."

Theodore stopped walking, turning to face you with resolve. "I want us to try again, to be together, properly this time.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through you at his words. You looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity that reassured you more than any words could. "I want that too, Theodore. Let's give us another chance."

With that shared agreement, a sense of relief and joy washed over both of you. Walking hand in hand, Theodore smiled for the first time in months.

“Now, will you call me Theo?”

[isadelusions]

Captain Curly Headcanons!! from Mouthwashing

| modern au | fem reader | married :)

☆꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷☆

Married headcanons

His Love language

•Act of service

-Since I’m sure that he is a busy man,when he has time to be with you,he will literally try to help with anything if he can.

-I can see him as a workaholic but if your not feeling well, he would try to get off his job early to take care of you or maybe even try to cook a healthy meal for you (well uh.. his cooking skills are hm..). After all, your his wife;)

-When he’s brushing his teeth and noticed you left some unrelated bathroom items on the sink? He will place them back where you would usually put it. He sees your one dirty place next to the sink which you planned to wash after using the restroom? He immediately gets that plate clean.

- He’s a sweet gentleman

•Physical touch

- When it’s just the two of you finally having time for each other, he definitely gets all over you.

- Watching a movie together, ur legs stacking onto his, getting close and comfy, his arm around your waist while you lean in close to him.

- Probably gets bored of the movie and starts to caress your fingers with his free hand, gently giving you a small massage for ur finger which wore that beautiful ring since marriage.

- Would totally place a hand on your thigh while the other on the steering wheel. You lectured him about it,how it isn’t safe and he would retreat back to his original position but does the same action again after a few minutes.

- Would hug you from the back and rest his chin on your head or shoulder.

- Pls give this man his cuddles and kisses.

Nicknames for you

- It’s just natural for him to call you hunny or hun. For exp: ‘You good there,hun?’

- He would call you my love too,like greeting you a ‘Good morning my love’ or ‘I’ve got something to tell you, love’

Random scenarios lol

- At a restaurant, if curly received his meal but it wasn’t the right order, he would just tell himself to suck it up and eats the meal or he either doesn’t care and still eats it. He feels like it’s troublesome for the employees to take back the meal.

-But if he was supposed to be served his favourite meal, you can tell by the expressions on his face, his lips curled in slightly looking a bit sad. Before he prepares to consume the food, you took the plate of meal away from him and asked the waiter politely to receive the right one.

- Curly would try to stop you but in the end he’s hesitant too. After all, he’s served with the right warm meal and appreciates your gesture.

- He would randomly thank you about it after having a few bites and repeats again. Trying to show how much he appreciates you.

-Dad jokes. He loves to tell you random dad jokes just to see that annoyed expression from you. It doesn’t really annoy you but some are just not funny. You secretly do like it tho because he’s curly after all.

-Night owl or Morning Bird? He can be both honestly,really depends on the event. If he’s up early,he would go for a jog, stops by pretty bushes of flowers and would take pictures just to send them to you. So sometimes you would be awake by his notifications, by different kinds of flowers.

Stays up late due to work or a rare chance which is to binge watch movies with you,even though it just always ends up into cuddles and a long comforting talks which the both of you love.

☆꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷☆

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Don’t be shy to send a request or some ideas. My requests are open! (Still new to writing ffs and looking forward to improve!!) I think I might make some oneshots according to some of the hcs here,byeee:0

oneshots > Comforting Porridge

[missmimii]

☏ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒 | 𝐌 － 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

－ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In which Matt and the reader have a long distance relationship due to his career, the lonely aspects of the relationship catches up to the reader.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. Brief mentions of mental health, and a whole lotta angst ♡︎

ℳ𝒾𝓂𝒾’𝓈 𝓃ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓈 －Almost 300 followers? Ily all so freaking much

☆彡－ The vibration from the girls phone tickles her palm, the sound of static dialling being the same sound that filled her ears before she succumbed to sleep every single night, for the past nine months. He’s probably busy, the time zone is all over the place, maybe he forgot. With a sigh of defeat, her phone fell from her hand and toppled on the pillow aside her. “Hey it’s me Matt－they already know that if they’re calling you － shut up Nick,” her eyes fell shut, a lazy smile gracing her lips as she listened to his voicemail. “I’m probably sleeping or driving if I didn’t a answer this call, so .. call me back later? －just end it!”

☽－ She felt her body numb to feeling disappointed or sadness, too wracked with grief and exhaustion to care whether or not her boyfriend was purposely dodging her calls. It was rare when he did, but she’d notice it being a reoccurring event for the last few days. Matt would send her short texts throughout the day, a soft smile appearing on her lips as she swiped up on them with her thumb at work. ‘Sometimes I wish I was an owl.’ Was a particular one she found herself amused by.

☆彡－ His added reply came not long after, said amusement growing by ten. ‘just so I could fly across the world and see you.’ The girls heart warmed at the silly clarification, the miniature interaction between the two sealed in the back of her mind permanently. This was rare, seeing as Matt often forgot to open anyone’s texts, let alone send back a reply. And in result of that, FaceTimes and phone calls were the couples main source of communication.

☽－ As the girl’s eyes fluttered back open, she was met with her own reflection. The mirror faced aside her bed, aiming perfectly at the outline of her body that was positioned on her side. It was faint, the image of her own body. All that could be seen was the hair framing her face, a faint view of her nose and eyes. Darkness enveloped her entire bedroom, the only source of light being found from the street lights blaring in through her window.

☆彡－ With a drawn out sigh, she slipped a hand under the pillow her head rested on, shifting a bit to find comfort. God, she was restless without his voice. Sleep came easier after coming to terms with Matthew’s absence, but it didn’t cure it. Nothing but him could cure this pit in her heart.

☽－Buzzzzzz’. Vibration rattled neck to her ear, sending a shiver through her body as she peeled her eye lids open. As much as she did want to grasp her cellphone, the hesitation that fell over her kept her set in stone from her lying frame. It didn’t matter how much she tried to convince herself that he was busy, or that he fell asleep － the girl knew he’d forgotten. Beep.

☆彡－ Beep.The ‘Missed call’ icon was the top notification her eyes laid on as she powered her phone on, upon one message underneath. “You awake?” It read, making the girl’s thumb halt against the screen. Whatever, she thought to herself, fingers tapping across the surface. “I can’t sleep.” The girl replied, seconds after being sent his name popped up across the top of her screen. Incoming call: Matty.

☽－ “Baby,” Matt’s voice came through the speaker, a hint of husk in his octave from sleep deprivation. She wasn’t the only one who lacked sleep in each other’s absences. Silence filled the male’s end of the phone for a moment before he spoke again. “I’m sorry for missing your call.” Too sorry to send a message?

☆彡－ The tired girl’s lips parted to speak but only elicited a soft yawn, making Matt’s lips twitch. “S’okay,” pulling her hand from under her pillow, she grasped her phone and sat it on her chest while rolling onto her back. Boom, boom, boom. The triplet let his eyes slip shut as he stretched out across his mattress, feeling warmth course through his body at the sound of the girl’s heart pattering through the speaker. He missed the real thing so badly. “You sleepy, kid?” He murmured lowly, fighting a yawn himself.

☽－ “hm?” She misses his hands against her skin, she yearns for his sweet nothings to be lulled against her ear as she slept － she missed him so fucking bad. Matt opened his eyes, hearing her barely audible sniff. “How much did you sleep last night?” He knew. The girl sighed, shaking her head, forgetting he couldn’t see her. “That’s so boring, what did you do today?”

☆彡－ Matt immediately shot in. “Don’t do that.” He stressed, running a hand down his face in frustration. Guilt wrecked the boy inside out, churning his stomach as he fought his inner subconscious. Why did he have to be such a douche? The least he could’ve done was answer her call. Sigh. “I’m tired.” He heard the girl’s meek tone utter.

☽－ The girl felt her chest tighten, emotions running high in her system. So long she kept them in, knowing that Matt had no way of fixing the pain that tore her apart. Too far, he was too far to fix her. “.. I’ll call more often －” Matt trailed off, hearing a small whimper come from his girlfriend’s end, statics breaking the sound apart. “baby,” oh god, what has he done to his girl.

☆彡－ Suddenly wide awake, he shuffled up in bed, resting his back against his headboard while holding his phone in his one hand. “Listen to me, doll.” Matt attempted to get ahold of the girl, running a hand down his jaw. Cries emptied her throat, a blubbering mess she became as the exhaustion fell over her entire body. “I’m so tired.” So tired. Her head felt heavy with unspilled tears that begged to fall, making her skull ache as she buried her the side of her face into her pillow.

☽－ The pillow no longer carried the natural scent of the male, the lack of his presence resulting in a faint linen smell, along with a slight undertone of his musk. When he left it smelled just like him. But just like him, it was fading. “Why didn’t you call last night?” She whispered finally. “Baby-” she cut in. “Or the night before?” Or the night before.

☆彡－ Matt’s eyes flicked down to his side, breathing out a stuttered breath as his hand fisted the blanket next to him. Owl’s could fly. His hand slipped around the plush material, bringing it to his face as he breathed in the aroma of her. “Take it,” she giggled, Matt’s eyes rolling playfully as he felt the warmth weigh on his shoulders. “Is it really necessary?” He murmured, seeing his girlfriend’s eyes narrow. “pretend it’s me hugging you whenever you cover up at night.” Matt blew out a chuckle, but pondered on her words. Maybe he should take it..

☽－He awaited the end of her sobs and pained cries as he squeezed his eyes shut, a lone trail of water escaping the corner of his eye, sliding down his cheek leisurely. Not that he’d voice it in such a selfish manner, but hearing his poor girl in such a way left his chest aching in a way he was convinced hurt more than her. Matt couldn’t hold her, look at her as she broke apart, or even talk to her, fearing that he’d end up revealing his sorrow, but in tears.

☆彡－The girl shakily placed a hand atop her mouth, because when it rained, it poured. And it wouldn’t stop －it poured down on her entire body. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the fact that she’d cried everything out she could muster, but slowly her cries calmed into hiccups, and the hiccups drifted into sniffs. Boom, boom, boom. Both parties unknowingly listening to each’s pumping hearts, the two fell an inner deprived feeling of sleep come over their bodies.

☽－ Eyes fluttering shut, dried tears coating water-lines, trembling of hands. “I don’t even like owl’s.” A husky voice spoke up, the end of his sentence crackling a bit as he heard his girlfriend shuffle around in her no cold bed. Matt rubbed his one eye with his two fingers, water tainting the skin as he heaved in a breath that fought away sobs. “I don’t like planes, birds － I don’t like anything, really.” She listened overtop his heart. Boom, boom, boom.

☆彡－“But I’d rather face everything I don’t like in this world if it meant I’d face the one thing I love.” Her, it would always be her. It didn’t matter how many midnight calls he’d missed, or whether or not he texted her meaningless messages throughout the day －that really did have meaning, Matt would always choose her. He wouldn’t choose a FaceTime call, a picture － every single time, he’d pick her. Face to face, skin to skin contact, eye to eye, lips to lips － just his girl.

☽－ Despite loving the melody of her tired voice at night, just before he drifted off into a broken slumber, it wasn’t enough. He craved the feeling of her warm body pressed against his as they slept, the scent of her hair blowing into his nostrils as he placed affirming grazes and touches against her untainted skin. Because the love he felt for her across the world, was too strong for an electronic device － or mere words.

☆彡－ Boom, boom, boom. “Matt..” A mixture of her own heart and voice filled his ears, and for one second, it felt real. So real that he swore he felt the itch of her hair falling against her neck as her back pressed into his front. So fucking real, that he felt like there was a chance for a split second. “Call me tomorrow? Please －” but it wasn’t.

☽－ “No.” Her eyes drew open, the pattering in her chest shattering while falling to her gut. No? － “I can’t do it anymore －I can’t handle it.” Matt’s voice cracked nearing the end of his confession, the gut wrenching sound being followed by his harsh inhale. Don’t cry, Matt － don’t fucking cry. “I need you here － or there. Anywhere. Fuck, I’d drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you now. Feel you, be with you.”

☆彡－ If you loved me you would, she didn’t care to say. But she almost did. Because it wasn’t until he was thousands of miles away, that she dared to question his love for her. “Then do it.” The girl whispered, hearing her boyfriend’s breath hitch. Rolling onto her back, she sucked in a deep sigh. “Because I’m not sure how much longer I can handle it.” The statement was a reminder we that not only he felt such a way, it was consuming the both.

☽－ Boom, boom, boom. “I’ll have Laura book my flight tonight.”

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 － @fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous @sturnstvr @sturnrc @stonermattsgf @imwetforyourmom @st7rnioioss @endereies

[junosmindpalace]

heya, Dr. Stone headcanons of the Wise Generals' (all or any ones you prefer) sleeping habits? Pretty please🥺

i’m sooo indecisive when it comes to headcanons i just end up talking about every perspective! but i hope these are fun! sorry some of these are shorter than others </3 i had more ideas for ryusui and senku

-> SENKU:

I’m pretty sure it was shown or implied very briefly in the show, but I believe Senku is a kind of person who sleeps pretty neatly.

Maybe not like a vampire on his back with his hands crossed over his stomach, but he mostly keeps to himself; his limbs aren’t usually all over the place, and he’s probably just curled within himself on his side. 

I don’t think it’s impossible for him to splay all over, but usually he’s a pretty still sleeper. Maybe he shifts around a little, a stray arm or leg here and there, and unless it’s super hot or cold or he’s unnerved by something, he’ll mostly just stay curled within himself. 

I think it was also shown that he tends to stay up pretty late doing science related things, so maybe a little bit of a night owl, too. 

Has at least once or twice pulled an all nighter doing science related things. Sometimes he isn’t even aware of the time, and he ends up accidentally staying awake all night (which he feels the effects of full force in the morning when he has school). 

It also seems like when he’s nervous about something, he can’t rest easily, either. So most of the time he should be spending sleeping is instead used for problem solving. 

He knows that, logically, he should be investing time and effort into developing and upholding a more than adequate sleep schedule in order for him to function and continue on with his hobbies at 100%. Buuut…he’s an eager person, and, for a lot of the series, a teenager. So his sleep schedule is probably a little all over the place. 

He’s probably out sometime between 12-2am on average though; that’s typically when he starts yawning and his body starts feeling heavy. 

Usually he just ends up exhausting himself with experiments, however, and retires to bed when the words in his textbooks begin to blur by curling himself up under a blanket. 

Doesn’t mind sleeping in the dark, and doesn’t fully mind sleeping with a small light. Too much of either, however, might set him a little on edge or make it harder for him to fall asleep.

Not a deep sleeper but not a light sleeper either. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space, he’s not going to go out of his way to do anything particularly different. He’ll sleep as usual; depending on the person, he might choose to put some distance. 

If it’s with you, he may just fall asleep facing you. That’s the only notable thing. 

Overall just a generally calm and quiet sleeper. 

-> GEN:

Also similar to Senku in a lot of ways, such as in that he doesn’t sprawl around too much. 

He’s usually curled up, perhaps even more so than Senku, however, and out like a light. It’s funny for me to imagine him a deeeeep sleeper. 

But in actuality, I think he’d be an inbetween of heavy and light sleeper. When he’s nervous about something, he’s much more aware of himself and his surroundings, so the slightest off detail will have his eyes wide open. 

Usually, though, he can be a pretty heavy sleeper. Maybe a mouth breather. Maybe snores just a little (on occasion). 

Sleeps fairly regularly despite his celebrity status and being a student, or at least finds it harder to pull all-nighters. But like anyone else, he may get restless if he feels nervous about something. 

If I remember correctly, the fanbook mentioned details about his family life not being so great (either that or its some headcanons that resonated with me based on the almost sad expression he makes in reference to his family). Perhaps the exhaustion or stress from that either kept him awake or had him passing out when it came to sleep.

Maybe sleeps in somewhat of a fetus position? Wakes up with his neck killing him (projection). 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space, he might be flirty about it, depending on who you are.

Teases you slightly in every scenario, however; it only depends on what kind of jokes he's making. 

Also depending on his mood, he may start up some late night convos before heading off to sleep, usually if he’s got something on his mind.

In the same bed, I think he would want to be cuddly, but just wouldn’t be able to handle the sweat and discomfort I think, so he goes back over to his side fairly quick.

Has a thousand alarms for the morning because he has a tendency to sleep in or immediately fall back asleep when he wakes up.

-> RYUSUI: 

I can imagine Ryusui’s sleeping habits going either way.

On the one hand, Ryusui can be a pretty deep sleeper. With his pampered lifestyle, he probably has heavenly bedroom accommodations; luxury bed, high brand pillowcases and mattresses and what not. He also doesn’t have very many worries in his life. So he probably sleeps like a rock at night. I can also see that deep sleep habit occurring even in the stone world, much to everyone’s disgust.

At the same time, Ryusui can be weirdly alert. Perhaps this would be more so stone world, but I can see him being disturbed by small changes in the environment and waking up to them.

His sleeping schedule may also be all over the place, but generally organized and well kept up. I imagine that he doesn’t fall asleep too late. 

He does occasionally pull an all-nighter if he’s working on something of his, however. When his mind is set on something, sometimes he can get caught up in it. 

Francois’ character profile lists events pre-petrification, saying they developed “a special drink for Ryusui, who has little time for sleep, to help him recover from fatigue after a short night's sleep.” I forget if context is ever given for this, but it sort of implies Ryusui doesn’t sleep a lot. So the all-nighters may be more frequent than expected. 

Either way, he’s probably one of the first people awake at any time, around maybe 5-6am. He likes to spend his days being productive, so no matter what, he’s typically up bright and early, no matter what time he goes to sleep at. 

I can imagine him with a somewhat firm expression while he sleeps, again, mostly during stone world. The lifestyle sort of toughens him up, makes him a bit more on edge constantly. It’s reflected in his face while he’s sleeping, mouth firm, eyebrows furrowed. He may also have this kind of face while he sleeps pre-stone world too, however, almost like he’s always in a perpetual state of slight unease despite his optimism. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space with another person, he probably tries to be mindful of differing sleeping schedules…but either way, he might accidentally wake you with crashes depending on what he’s doing.

If he’s with you in bed though, I think he might like to cuddle, at least at first. Until he gets all uncomfortable and accidentally pushes you away.

But you get to share in all his bed luxuries! And all of the things Francois does to help keep Ryusui awake throughout the day also extend toward you on his order. 

-> UKYO:

One of the more calm sleepers. 

He’s another person who’s, again, like Senku, in that he just lies on his side the entire night.

Doesn’t move around too much when he’s sleeping, maybe just to readjust his blanket or whatnot. At most, he’s just repositioning himself to be more comfortable.

I think he too would have a bit of a firm face when he sleeps. 

He may like to hold something when he’s sleeping. It’s usually just the pillow he’s sleeping on top of, but sometimes he might yank it down enough so it's almost like he’s holding it to his chest. 

Also maybe curled up in somewhat of a fetal position, also wakes up with a killer neckache on occasion. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space with someone, he probably just sticks to his side of the bed. 

Doesn’t mind cuddling, but like most people, that probably just means you’ll break away later in the evening when the two of you fall asleep. 

Might try to watch shows and movies he’s wanted to catch up on only to fall asleep curled up on the couch (you don’t have the heart to wake him) (it's why you have a blanket on your cushions now) (more projecting).

Also may have a billion alarms, all at absurd times. He gives you an apologetic kiss on the forehead if it disturbs your own slumber.

-> CHROME: 

Ultimate mouth breather, ultimate blanket hog, ultimate BED hog (exaggeration). 

I’m mostly kidding, but out of all five, I can imagine Chrome to be one of the more chaotic sleepers. 

His leg is in the air, he’s starfishing, he’s snoring. He’s the whole insufferable package.

At the same time, however, I feel like it’d be funny if people anticipate Chrome to be such a difficult sleeper, only for him to be the exact opposite and instead sleep like a sound baby. 

I can see him being pretty hyperactive during the day and then crashing out at night so much so that he hardly moves, but mostly on days where he’s working himself to exhaustion. 

So take it either way.

If he’s sharing a space with you when he’s sleeping, he might be nervous as hell. Or if you’re a good enough friend, he’ll turn over and pass out with his leg out unapologetically no problem. 

I think for obvious reasons he doesn’t really tend to sleep with anything; no pillows or toys. 

And I also think cuddling is not a big thing. Though you might find an arm or leg tossed over you on restless nights…

If you confront him about those things in the morning, he’ll deny them endlessly.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Did You Like Them? || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by unknown DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: A heartfelt conversation between Leyla and her closest handmaiden reveals her feelings towards her first child, Alyssa.

a/n: pls pls pls send in some requests!!! this can be for the dear motherhood series if you like!

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

Leyla quietly moved her feet towards the nursery. The whole of castle were fast asleep and yet she was still awake, except for the few guards around, including the two infront of the nursery. She quietly opened the door and closed it slowly. Daemon was still asleep in their bedchambers.

The young Lady walked closer to the crib at a slow pace where her daughter, Alyssa laid asleep. She crouched down beside her, her eyes studying every feature of her face. Alyssa looked very much Leyla, except for the silver hair that she inherited from Daemon.

With so much intent, Leyla stayed there for the next 10 minutes, Alyssa’s chest falling up and down at a steady rate. The door quietly opened as Alyssane, her closets friend and handmaiden, approaches her. “My Lady, what are you doing up at this hour?” she asked before crouching down beside the babe’s crib.

“I like watching her sleep,” Leyla spoke in a soft voice, admiring her daughter. A smile makes it to Alyssane’s lips, “When my children were babies, it was my favourite time too,” She says as the two make eye contact and chuckle softly.

Visiting Alyssa in the middle of the night was a daily occurrence for Leyla. Of course, Leyla often saw her daughter throughout the day but it felt different watching her at night, all alone. Whenever they were around the castle or outside, the young Hightower would often feel quite awkward holding her own child.

The looks she would be given or the whispers that would go around drove her insane. So she rather enjoy her daughter’s presence alone, without the prying eyes of court. Leyla’s eyes flicker to Alyssane, she hesitates before opening her mouth to ask her question.

“Did you like them?” She felt herself holding a breath, “Straight away?” Alyssane’s eyes snap to Leyla. She noticed her hesitation before she covered it with a small smile. “Well, I was pleased they were healthy. I would’ve killed anyone that could cause them any harm.”

“Like them? I think that comes later, my Lady” Leyla listens intently. “When I look at her,” She starts, her fingers moving away a stray lock of hair fallen on Alyssa’s face, “All I can remember is the pain of giving birth to her. Those horrible nine months I had to endure.” Leyla confessed.

Alyssane held her hand in a comforting manner. “Having a baby is a sacrifice aswell as a blessing,” Alyssane added with a sad smile. Leyla knew that when she found out she was with child, her childhood was being sacrificed. It took her some time to accept the cold truth.

“I’m afraid, Alyssane. Father is asking for more grandchildren and there’s no doubt Daemon wishes for more heirs from me,” Otto had been on Leyla’s back on having children well, ever since she married Daemon. Even more after she had her first, Alyssa.

“Don’t be, my Lady. You are incredibly strong, having a child at ten-and-five? Not many people can do that and still continue with a smile on their faces. These feelings you’re feeling right now? They will blow over and overtime, when you look at Alyssa, you will feel a sense of accomplishment”

Leyla looked back over at peaceful Alyssa, “Thank you Alysanne,” she smiled gratefully at her friend’s comforting words.

~

It was the Hour of the Owl and once again, Leyla slipped out of Daemon’s hold and quietly moved away from the bed and into the corridors. The brunette was only helped guided by the burning torches that lit up the castle, although it was nearly impulse that led her to her daughter’s nursery.

That day had been particularly hard for Leyla. Otto had found out that she had been talking about finding ways to slow down the chances of becoming pregnant. That earned Leyla a harsh slap across her face.

The young Hightower didn’t dare to tell her Lord Husband out of embarrassment. Leyla was slightly surprised to see her daughter eyes wide awake. She quickly moved to her and carefully picked her up as Alyssa cooed making her mother smile.

She opened the curtains to allow light from the moon to seep through the nursery. There, Leyla stood cradling her daughter in her arms as she sung a sweet lullaby. She cherished these moments she shared with her first born, away from the bustling of court.

Leyla was slightly startled when she felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around her waist. “Husband,” “Wife,” He replied back in a husky voice, his head rested on her shoulder as they both look down at their daughter. “I thought I might find you here, pray do tell, what are you doing here at this hour of the night?” He spoke calmly, leaving a small trail of kisses along her shoulder and neck.

“I could not find sleep Daemon, and neither could your daughter it seemed” She softly chuckled as he joined. “Can I?” Daemon tilted his head to Alyssa as Leyla nodded. She carefully passed the 2 month old babe to her father as he softly patted her back, a soft tune coming out of his mouth in his mother’s tongue.

Leyla thought it would be impossible to fall in love with Daemon even more, well that changed ever since he became a father. He was such a huge softie when it came to Alyssa and she liked that he only reserved this side for her.

In just a few minutes, Alyssa had fallen asleep. Daemon slowly laid her down in her crib as the two stand in each other’s arm admiring the tiny human being they created. “Goodnight, my darling” Leyla leaned down to whisper to her before placing a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Daemon smiled as he watched the whole interaction. He always knew Leyla would be a great mother to his children. The couple quietly walked back to their bedchambers hand in hand with smiles on their faces.

~

taglist

@bellstwd @sesamepancakes @writtingforfun @bunbunbl0gs @mxtokko

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Teenagers

@wolfstarmicrofic July 8, word count 868

Sirius flopped dramatically onto Remus’s bed. 

“Get off, Padfoot!” Remus grumbled, nudging him with his feet. He was too tired to outright shove him, but he was in no mood to deal with him. Everything ached. It had been a bad moon last night and all he wanted was to sleep. But the others didn’t know about his furry little secret, and he had to keep it that way. 

He had a few half-healed wounds on his back and chest and having Sirius bounce on his bed had definitely knocked the scabs loose on a few. “Can’t you go find Prongs or Wormtail and annoy them?” He sank back into his pillow, unable to hold himself up any more. 

“I’d rather annoy you,” Sirius grinned at him, flipping over so he was inches away from Remus. 

Remus reared back, his neck cracking angrily as his body protested at the sudden movement. “Hey, calm down, Moony,” Sirius reached out to him, but Remus didn’t want to be touched. 

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” Remus screamed. He felt the magic leaving his body before he could do anything about it. 

Sirius flew from Remus’s bed and collided with the bedpost of Peter’s bed. “Sirius, Sirius, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” Remus was crying as he dragged himself to Sirius’s side. “Sirius, I’m so sorry,” His hands flailed in front of him, not daring to touch Sirius until he said it was okay. 

“Hey, hey, shhhh, it’s okay Remus, see.” Sirius cradled Remus’s head in his hands, wiping his tears away with his thumbs. “I should have known better not to push you after a full moon, I just wanted to take your mind off it.” 

Remus froze, his eyes widening in horror when he realised what Sirius had just said. This was it then? It had finally happened, someone had figured it out. He supposed it had only been a matter of time before someone did. He’d have to pack his belongings and go back to that damp Welsh cottage where his Father couldn’t bear to look at him and his Mother didn’t understand. He’d be locked in that silver-lined bunker Lyall had dug in their garden, where he was chained to the floor and left until the morning. His mother cried every time Lyall brought him back into the kitchen and attempted to heal the claw marks that marred his skin. Well, Hogwarts was good while it lasted. He’d managed a year and a half at least. He wondered if they’d snap his wand. He thought he’d freak out when this happened, but he just felt sad. Sad that he’d be alone again and that he’d lose the friends he held so dear all over something he couldn’t even help. “Come on let’s get you back into bed, yeah,” Sirius said gently. Remus shook his head, snapping himself out of his tumultuous thoughts. 

“What do you mean? I need to start packing and owl my Dad to come get me.” He started to collect his books and parchment, tossing them into his open trunk. His legs wobbled, he needed to lie down. He bit back a sob when he thought about the long walk and all the stairs up to the owlery that he’d need to climb once he’d finished packing. 

Sirius crossed the room and slammed Remus’s trunk shut. 

“What in Merlin’s beard are you on about?!” Sirius asked, a bewildered expression on his face. 

“I’m leaving. Dumbledore said I can only stay as long as my secret is kept. You know, so it’s not a secret any more.” Remus explained, opening his trunk again. 

“No,” Sirius slammed the truck closed again. “It’s still a secret, I’m just in on it,” A crooked smile tugged at the side of his mouth. “That means you can stay.” He said determinedly. 

“You want me to stay? Sirius, I’m a werewolf, you can’t want me here,” The tears were back. Sirius wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Remus didn’t have the energy or the desire to make him let go. 

“I will always want you, Remus. You’re my best friend and I refuse to let them take you away from me.” He pulled his head back and looked into Remus’s watery eyes. “That and how cool is it to have a werewolf as a roommate?” 

Sirius started asking question after question about what it was like to be a werewolf. Where did he go each month? Who else knew? What did he do in the holidays? How long had he been a werewolf? He didn’t stop until James and Peter came looking for them, their hands piled high with sandwiches. 

“Aww, aren’t they cute,” James snickered when he saw Remus and Sirius sitting close to each other on Remus's bed, Sirius holding one of his hands. “We brought you lunch,” He told them as Remus snatched his hand back. “We know how ravenous you get after you transform,” James said matter-of-factly. Remus shook his head and got into bed. Nope, he thought, that is a problem for future Remus, as he let his exhausted body fall asleep, to the excited murmurings of his far, far too clever friends. 

[gay-noodle-clan]

Coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather

(edit because I forgot to tag 😭)

@charmedreincarnation

@stilljuststardust

@evvlevie

Coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather

[ambrozjas]

I get so excited when I see you post Dallas stuff, your fics are great! Could you do a fic where reader x Dallas celebrate their anniversary? And Dallas is pretty nonchalant and forgetful but he ends up still making it special? Thanks!

the moonlight only enhances your beauty ꨄ︎

dallas winston x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

ugh i’ve been in such a funk i haven’t been wanting to write for a while and idk what’s wrong w me but i’m sorry guys!! i’ll try to keep up more, i’ve just been having to focus on my music pieces and festivals so i’ve been pretty busy :((

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

reader wears a nightgown, some cussing, literally a crap ton of descriptions of the moonlight and how it frames things bc i’m obsessed with describing it 💕

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

1184 words, 6437 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“i don’t want to talk to you right now, dal.”

“c’mon!” he whined, dragging out the ‘n’ as his eyebrows raised and his eyes downturned in a puppy dog manner. you looked back at the clock, currently 11:47pm and you assumed maybe five minutes earlier those noises you heard outside weren’t stray cats fighting, it was dallas trying to get the ladder to come up to your window.

today was horrible, it was your anniversary, and he had the audacity to forget and then show up at your house begging for another chance to get you to go out with him? at eleven-fucking-forty-seven?

you had to admit, his brown eyes always made you give in no matter how stern you tried to be. whether they were slanted with a vindictive cat like stare, or big and dopey like a sad kicked puppy. you just couldn’t say no to them, even if you tried to put your foot down, this was still the case.

“dallas—“

he cut you off with a huff of your name, “just twenty minutes, that’s all i’m askin’ for, jeez.” you rolled your eyes as his facade dropped, the innocent act quickly shifting back to his regular curt tough nature. but nonetheless, you couldn’t say no. dallas winston always got what he wanted.

you walked away, dally’s eyes trailing after your figure as you walked into another room. your silk nightgown glowed in the moonlight as the creases took on a darker color as they shaded themselves, the blue-ish hue illuminating the rest of your body as you slipped away. dallas scoffed as he was about to climb back down the ladder before he head a faint, “wait.”

his eyes flickered back, watching as you emerged from the other room, only this time, with each step you took came a small clack sound. dallas looked down to see you in your shoes as you held up your jacket to show him.

“only twenty minutes, right?”

“yeah, yeah.” he muttered, watching as the bare skin was covered up by a dark coat of fabric, the zipper glimmering a bit as the moonlight shone on the silver lining before you turned around and made your way downstairs.

“so extra.” dally whispered before he climbed back down the ladder, careful to observe the ground and his feet while he stepped down each bar. the metal was cool beneath his hands, the warmth radiating off him instead because of how much he stuffed his hands in his pockets. the ladder’s paint was chipping off, revealing a silver coat underneath as it creaked with each movement dal made before finally, he spotted you coming out through the front door, back hunched as you tip-toed out.

“this better be good.” you mumbled, shaking your head as dallas carelessly left the ladder against your window and took you by the arm. he led you across town, and you thought to yourself that maybe you should’ve worn pants as you looked at your bare legs sticking out from underneath your nightgown.

with the cool breeze and your free hand—the one that wasn’t wrapped around dallas’ arm—clutching your gown so it wouldn’t fly up, it felt like you two had been walking forever. only the crickets and owls accompanied you with their songs sung in the night as you both walked through the empty streets of tulsa, careful to be on the lookout for any socs driving around in their pristine mustangs with their cigarettes hanging from their hand outside the car window.

you two finally made it to a small summer green turf, planted cautiously behind a few shops in the tall grass so nobody would steal it. “now wait ‘ere.” dallas told you, flicking the bridge between your eyebrows where your nose started as he jogged over to what looked to be a small blanket.

you cocked your head in bemusement, watching as he brought out his lighter and popped the cap open, trying to flick it on. a string of curses escaped his lips as it took a minute to start, but once it finally did he leaned down and positioned his back to light something you wouldn’t see. you stood on your tippy toes as you tried to see above before dallas snapped the lighter shut, shaking his hand once or twice to get rid of the burn from keeping the lighter open too long, and turned around to walk over and grab you by the arm.

you smiled once you took in the sight, already seeing what dallas was planning when he dragged you over there. it was a small blanket, one so small it probably wouldn’t even have enough space for the both of you, with two candles in the middle and a few snacks like cookies and packs of fruit around them. you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as dallas smoothed his hair back, licking his slightly chapped lips as he intently watched you for a reaction.

you simply glanced at him and nodded your head to the side, signaling for him to join as you took a seat on the blanket. it was just as you expected, barely big enough to fit the both of you on it, but you didn’t care. all the anger from the day melted away as you watched dallas twiddle his thumbs when he sat beside you, pressing his lips together awkwardly.

then the small candles blew out once a small gust of wind came over the two of you.

dally mumbled a few profanities as his hand made its way back in his hair, smoothing it out to get rid of the reminding feeling of how nervous—the slight sweat on his forehead making his hair stick to it.

but oh glory, when you let out a small laugh, the sound falling from your lips as smooth as honey, dallas could’ve sworn he had heart palpitations—even if he’d never admit it.

and when you looked at him, the blue moonlight shone on your face just right. the glossiness of your teeth and the highlights on your nose seriously made you look like a work of art, your eyes getting that small glimmer in them as their corners crinkled when you grinned. dallas almost died right then and there.

when you looked at him, watching as the corners of his lips—although subtle—twitched upwards at the sight of you, your smile just got even bigger.

it was comical to you. the man sitting in front of you was dallas winston. who would’ve known that when he wasn’t slashing tim shepard’s tires or stealing a few packs of kools from the convenience store, he would be sitting here in the moonlight on what his best affordable idea of a ‘picnic’ was with you. nobody could deny the fact that you had dallas winston whipped.

then you both proceeded to yelp as a stronger gust of wind started to blow away the small bags of cookies away, hurling yourselves over the blanket and clambering away to try to avoid the food flying off into the street.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this request was literally adorbs omg 😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

friday, kim taerae— select choir

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: just one gn!reader version for this (no pronouns are used at all to describe reader; reader is describe as having a "pretty" mouth but no gendered or femme language)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ friday summary: it's the end of the most bizarre week of your life. last year, you would've been overjoyed to spend time in select choir with your friend kim taerae. but that all went down the drain after hanbin recruited him into his group of incessant jerks... and he's desperate to officially be one of the guys.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. bullying. the lore for taerae is so SAD. i'll make sure his ending is happy, i promise. also we've got a ft. hanbin chapter but just in digital form.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★★ (5.0)

(idk the bully scale is subjective but like imagine your best friend saying this shit about you WHY IS HE DOING THAT OMG jk i know why and soon you will too)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: oral, (taerae receiving), throat fucking (reader receiving), brief handjob and heavy petting (taerae receiving), cumming without warning in mouth, filming of sexual act, voyeur!hanbin, slight dubcon but like for both of them kind of idk you'll see but it's slight, bullying, the usual.

friday.

you should be elated that this week is nearly over. and you are. mostly, anyway. 

but there was an indescribable thrill to all this that you couldn’t seem to shake. all that talk of ravens yesterday had got you thinking...

 why did you dislike ravens in the first place?

thinking. crying. haphazardly finishing all of your assignments due friday that you’d procrastinated the whole week. urgent texts to and from mina after her ✨jiwoong oppa✨ stood her up for their date.

one thing was for certain: you desperately need sleep.

that’s why you’re currently falling asleep sitting up, hard-back music folder open in your hands as professor yoo works with the bass section. the lowest notes of “requiem” are soft and soothing and, for you at this sleep-deprived moment, very dangerous. 

luckily a sharp elbow to the shoulder jolts the drowsiness right out of you.

you look to your left to find kim taerae giving you one of the most judgmental glares you’ve ever earned in your life.

you would expect nothing less from him.

at one time a judgmental glare from taerae was the equivalent of a hug. you returned the gesture happily. and also threw in some hugs whenever he’d let you. he squirmed a bit, but the big smile that would grow on his face made it all worth it.

but there’s no warmth behind his eyes now. just a sharp elbow pointed at you, threatening to strike again if you didn’t shape up quick enough.

“you’re gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns with a frown.

you roll your eyes. “why do you care?”

“because, unfortunately, some people still think we’re friends,” he says, making thin lines with his pencil on a page of his sheet music. “and i don’t want to suffer the social consequences of your embarrassing actions.”

“mm,” you agree wordlessly. “guess i should’ve thought of that myself.”

he doesn’t respond for a few moments, eyes focused on his sheet music until an audible sigh comes from his direction. “why are you so tired anyway? s’not like you.”

“for all you know, it could be,” you retort with a huff. “maybe i’m a real night owl now. maybe i’m out partying or smoking or... something.”

taerae snorts. “jiwoong hyung was not lying about those tragic acting skills.”

“oh, fuck off,” you reply.

his eyes widen. and then promptly squint with suspicion. “since when did you swear like that?”

you frown, trying to discern what he could mean. hadn’t you always been this uninhibited with your tongue? 

the answer was no. you hadn’t. and this new speech pattern of yours had a very specific origin: monday afternoon. you exhale a chuckle. maybe you had yet to realize the full extent of how this week has changed you.

and how your desire to change back continues to dwindle.

you just shrug, returning your focus to your music. you feel taerae’s eyes on you as you track your vocal section’s part in “requiem”.

you and taerae had purposefully chosen seats next to each other in choir last year so that you could goof off together during every possible free moment. it was also convenient for your parents, who always wanted to get pictures of you two together during concerts ever since high school.

now you wish you went to different universities altogether.

ironically, you might’ve had a better chance of remaining friends if you’d had distance. but you and taerae disagreed quite adamantly at the time.

halfway through your two-hour rehearsal, you’re allowed a fifteen minute break to grab water and stretch your legs. you always wander off down the empty storage hallway, where your favorite vending machine is hidden in plain sight— the one with the oreos and cheez-its and bugles in it. 

pulling out your debit card, you insert the chip into the machine and punch in the number for the snack of your choosing. you watch happily as it falls down from it’s spiral prison into the dispenser below. you start to bend down when a hand reaches in before you and grabs your snack.

“hey, what the—…” you trail off as you come face to face with a cavernous dimple. “give it back. now.”

“you’re so touchy today,” taerae condemns with a click of his tongue. he holds your snack high above his head, dangling it in a challenge. “seriously, what’s gotten into you this week?”

“oh, you know exactly what,” you huff, reaching for the snack in vain.

taerae laughs. “i guess a better question would be: what hasn’t gotten into you this week?”

“you’re so fucking funny,” you snap, fingers finally closing around the wrapper as you yank it down. 

taerae’s brow is raised in surprise, not really caring about the repossession of the snack. “seriously, i’m not used to you swearing like that. i’m not sure if i like it.”

“i assumed there was nothing you liked about me anymore,” you retort, tearing open your snack and shoveling the processed glory down your throat.

“that’s not true,” he replies, hand suddenly reaching to your face. he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, a crumb transferring from you to him. he brings his thumb to his own lips and tastes it. “i still like your pretty mouth.”

when you finally manage to pick your jaw up off the ground, you shake your head. “i know you don’t think of me like that.”

“uh...” taerae mumbles awkwardly, glancing at the row of shelves behind you. “sure, i do.”

“oh yeah? how about mina’s pool party two years ago? when we—.”

“OH, actually you—,” he interjects urgently, glaring at you to shut up. normally you would. but after this week, you no longer feel bound to quiet compliance. “you don’t need to—.”

“—were playing spin the bottle and it landed on me and you threw up in the pool because you were so disgusted by the mere thought of kissing me—”

his lips crash onto yours, hand cupping your cheek. it’s a demanding, yet tentative kiss and you’re even more confused when it ends.

you take a step backward, folding your arms across your chest. 

“can you just—...” taerae grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, glancing again at the row of shelves behind you. “yes, that’s perfect.”

“what’s perfect?” you ask with a frown, starting to grow immune to strange behavior after the week you’ve had.

“oh, um.... you,” taerae answers after a moment with a smirk. “you were always so perfect, (y/n). perfect grades. perfect manners. perfect body. i used to jump at the chance to sleep over when your mom would let me. you used to beg her until she finally said yes, because she knew you'd never misbehave. remember, honey?"

eyes wide at the dark shift in his tone, you nod slowly.

“you were so innocent... you slept shirtless, for fuck's sake. peacefully dreaming, while i pretended to be asleep on the floor,” he continues, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “hoping i wouldn't wake you up if i just lifted the covers to get a peek."

when you thought the worst of your pain this week was over…

“tae,” you breathe, eyes watering— pleading for this not to be true. it couldn’t be. at least... not in the vulgar way he was describing it. "you don't mean that."

at the sound of your despair, there's a momentary flash in his eyes. regret. you still know him like the back of your hand.

“why are you doing this?” you ask, hands flying to cup either side of his face. he flinches, trying his best not to look you in the eye again. trying not to let you see. “you don’t have to be my friend anymore if you really don’t want to. but i don’t know why you want to be like them when you’re miles better than they’ll ever—.”

“alright, that’s enough.”

the muffled, tinny voice comes out of nowhere. you look around your immediate surroundings, trying to discern where it came from.

“c’mon, you were doing so well,” the voice rings again. “you said you had this under control, bud. was i wrong to put my trust in you?”

“no, hyung,” taerae answers, shaking his head. “i—… i can do it.”

“hanbinnie?” you ask and then cough awkwardly to cover up the fact you just called your arch nemesis so affectionately. yesterday must’ve gotten to you more than you know. “i mean, hanbin-ah! what the actual hell is going on?”

“no need to worry about it, sweetheart,” hanbin’s voice dismisses again. taerae’s eyes dart towards the shelves behind you once more. you follow his gaze— jaw dropping when you see two camera lenses staring back at you. 

“what—...” you fumble, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at the back of taerae’s phone— propped up with a black music folder. “you’re recording this!?”

“afraid so,” hanbin answers for taerae. “i didn’t really think he could follow through without some supervision. don’t mind me though. unless you just can’t help yourself...”

while at the beginning of this week a situation as perverted and bizarre as this would’ve had your whole nervous system shutting down, you’re still standing tall. present in this strange moment. you smirk.

“aw, tae,” you coo mockingly, turning to your former friend. “how sentimental of you...”

a brow arches in confusion back at you. “what are you––?”

“of course you’d wanna capture such a special moment on camera,” you continue with a patronizing nod. “it’s not every day that you lose your virginity.”

“HEY THAT’S—…” taerae starts to yell at you for sharing this embarrassing personal detail that you’re sure he never disclosed to hanbin. “that’s… that’s not true.”

“oh come on, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you twist the metaphorical knife as hanbin stifles a laugh. “i’d be happy to help you out with that, since i was the one who had to listen to you whine for four years about how you were still. a. fucking—”

two fingers are down your throat in an instant. you gag, trying to step backwards, but taerae’s hand finds the back of your head— holding you in place. he removes his fingers slowly, pupils dilating when you whimper in fear.

“i’ve decided i don’t like the swearing,” he says, a sickening hint of sweetness in his tone. any upperhand you had is now gone as he traces your lips with his thumb. “such a pretty mouth. those filthy words shouldn’t be coming out of it.”

“y-you don’t get to decide that,” you stammer unconvincingly.

“so that’s what you really want, then?” he asks, sticking his thumb further into your mouth. you suck obediently. “you wanna have a filthy mouth?”

you nod, his thumb still pressed against your tongue— cheeks hollowed out as taerae bites his lip hungrily.

“then you can have it,” he says before removing his thumb from your mouth and pressing down on your neck and shoulder— forcing you to your knees in front of him. you guess joining the soccer team had really improved his strength. “just remember it’s what you said you wanted.”

taerae unbuttons his jeans, pulling the zipper down. he freezes, clearly unsure of what to do next. maybe this is your opportunity to wiggle your way out of this. if only your curiosity wasn’t equally as strong.

“we––... i have to audition after this,” you protest weakly. “when break’s over, i have to audition for the solo i’ve been prepping for so i want to keep my voice warm right now and—.”

“ah, that’s right. i did forget about that,” he affirms, looking up at the ceiling in thought before smirking back down at you. “but i think i can help keep it pretty warm, actually.”

your attempt to level with taerae only seems to encourage him as he pulls down his jeans and boxer-briefs. you inhale sharply as his hard cock comes to eye-level, so close you can really examine it. though it’s slightly smaller than hanbin’s, it’s thicker and you need to know immediately how it feels in your hand.

“whoah, you—,” taerae stumbles, eyes wide as you take him eagerly in your hand. he stares at you, lips parted as you start to pump him. “holy shit.”

“you’re sure you wanna do this?” you ask, pausing your motion to make eye contact with him. you can tell he doesn’t want you to stop, but there’s conflict lingering there that he just can’t seem to hide.

taerae clears his throat, shaking his head as he resumes his tough guy act. eyes cold once more, he shrugs. “a hole’s a hole.”

after a year of judgmental berating from your former best friend, it was almost comforting to know that he was capable of being even meaner than he already was. it meant that, for whatever reason, he usually didn’t want to be any meaner to you.

he takes both of your hands in one of his, keeping you from using them as his other hand finds the back of your neck again— guiding your face towards his cock. taerae doesn’t need to give much guidance though. you’re aching to get a taste and the way your lips sink down around him nearly knocks the wind out of him.

back pressed against the side of the vending machine, his thumb presses into your cheek— feeling himself inside of your pretty mouth. you swirl your tongue around his tip, causing him to moan softly.

there’s a little bit of rustling coming from where taerae’s phone is propped up on the shelf. you wonder if hanbin’s enjoying this. if he’s touching himself— wishing he was throat deep in you instead.

“c’mon, bud. is (y/n) running this show or are you?” hanbin asks, tone laden with frustration.

“i—... i am,” taerae asserts, grip tightening across the back of your neck. 

he starts to thrust gently into your mouth, an action that you’re not so familiar with. it rattles you a bit— loss of control after feeling like you were gaining it back.

“this is what you asked for, baby,” he reminds you, shallow thrusts starting to venture a bit deeper. “remember? you said you wanted a filthy mouth. so i’m gonna make a mess of it.”

you find the right rhythm to breathe through the thrusts. the tip of his cock is dangerously close to entering your throat, sending another wave of anxiety through you. but it’s not for long. 

your eyes meet taerae’s and, though he’s the one putting you in that danger, you suddenly feel very safe. you let out a sigh, the vibration causing him to mewl. he scratches at your neck affectionately, putting pressure against it to feel himself inside you as he fucks your throat.

“see, keeping that throat nice and warm,” taerae coos as his breathing gets heavier— and his moaning gets louder. “take me so well, i—.”

“shut the fuck up, dude,” hanbin scolds, his own breath growing labored. “do you wanna get caught before you can win the—?”

before hanbin can finish his thought, you feel a warm, sticky liquid begin to pour down your throat. you pull off of taerae, sputtering and coughing as you try to swallow it down. wiping your mouth, you look up at taerae who is looking at you like he wants to dive straight into the han river and never return.

“for fucks sake, are you actually a virgin or something?” hanbin asks angrily. “is that really all you can last for? and, jesus, you’ve gotta warn someone before you do that.”

your throat is starting to burn and you’d love to be able to say something, anything, but the rasp that comes out isn’t pleasant-feeling. you rub at your throat with your now-free hands as taerae’s expression just turns more horrified.

“did i... did i hurt you? fuck, i didn’t mean to—,” taerae starts to babble uselessly until hanbin claps loudly.

“good work, team!” he says as he finishes his round of applause. “mvp definitely goes to me, for coming up with this idea in the first place. i’ll see the campus activities secretary at the big game tomorrow, right?”

“mm,” is all you can croak out. you wish it sounded angrier.

“and i’ll see you at practice tonight, man. i—,” hanbin cuts himself off with a confused look. “wait, where did he go?”

you face forward, expecting to see taerae standing next to the vending machine but... hanbin’s right. he’s vanished.

“that kid’s a piece of work,” hanbin says, shaking his head. “you think he’d be more grateful after i took him under my wing and made him popular. i even got him a spot on the soccer team after a lot of private coaching. i mean, he’s benched for life, but still!”

you’re a saint among men, is what you wish you could say. instead, you just roll your eyes.

“just take his phone and give it back to him in class, will you?” hanbin asks as you stand up and make your way toward the shelves. “and drink some hot tea for that throat, okay? throw some honey in it and you’ll be good as new for tomorrow, i promise.”

you sigh. and you nod. and you pick up taerae’s phone and end the video call. 

and you go back to choir and sit in your black music chair and wait for taerae to come back, but he doesn’t. and when it’s time to audition for the solo you’ve been preparing for, you stay seated and quiet. 

seated and quiet.

like you’ve been for so long.

and when practice ends and the choir room is empty and you remain seated and quiet in your black music chair and tears begin to well up in your eyes, you don’t cry.

you smile.

you stand up.

you shout (briefly, so as not to disturb anyone in neighboring classrooms).

at some point or another, you forgot how to do these things. or you were made to feel like you couldn’t or shouldn’t. 

but that’s who you really are.

who you were always meant to be.

not a juliet. not a violin. not a goalie. not a bird. not a pretty mouth.

you.

you pick up your bag off the floor (and taerae’s) and throw them both over your shoulder, making a beeline toward the door.

absolutely, hanbinnie, you think. you’ll see me at the big game.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons cause I love this chaotic little family

I’ve seen a lot of people say Ambrosius is a morning person and Bal is a night owl 

And I have to respectfully disagree 

Will Bal pull some all-nighters in the lab? Absolutely 

But this man is the most early bird coded character I’ve ever seen in my entire life 

When he isn't fully invested in a project he can't stay up past 10 pm

He wakes up at 6 am refreshed and barely needs caffeine 

I’ve also seen a lot of people say he’s a dedicated coffee drinker but something about this man screams “Coffee gives me migraines” 

Ambrosius on the other hand 

That’s an insomniac if I’ve ever seen one 

He’ll get ready for bed around 9 and then stay up til 3 in the morning

Poor babe needs coffee in an IV

He used to wake up really early back in the institute cause he was forced to run a mile every minute he was late to class 

And he’s a heavy sleeper so after the wall came down and he quit being a knight he wouldn't wake up before 1 pm even with Bals help 

And Nimona is just as bad 

Most nights Ambrosius will leave the room because he moves a lot when he can’t sleep and Bal is a light sleeper 

He’ll sit in the living room watching tv while trying to sleep and most of the time Nimona will join him 

Every once and a while Bal will find them laying on top of each other on the couch and will take them back to their respective beds 

And if you’re wondering what their favorite show to watch together is it’s those house-flipping shows 

But not for the reason you think

Most people watch those shows cause they think it’s inspiring 

Ambrosius and Nimona talk about how terrible these people are at their jobs  

They’ll go on hour-long rants about how these people are stripping the houses of everything that made them a home

(Ambrosius is a sentimental bitch and would be a maximalist after leaving the institute prove me wrong)

When Nimona is bored she’ll go into the city disguised as Bal or Ambrosius 

And she’ll fool literally everyone it’s a pretty common occurrence for the boys to be at home and then they hear the other swearing like a damn sailor because there are already news articles about it

The only people she can’t fool are Bal and Ambrosius 

Bal will shut them down almost immediately 

They’ll walk over to Bal and won’t even get a word out before Bal says “Shift back Nim you’re freaking me out”

They always make a big deal out of being caught making big decorations like “I’m getting better and one day I’ll fool you” 

And he’ll hum in agreement but he knows that it doesn’t matter how good he gets or how observant he is he’ll be able to fully copy every little detail 

The details that Bal has spent the past decade and a half remembering  

You know the little things like how he can’t say Bal or Nimona’s names without smiling even when he’s pissed

Or how he scrunches his nose when he laughs 

Ambrosius always acts like Nimona tricked him

He’ll let them get comfortable in the character and then he’ll drop the bomb 

Something small and inconspicuous like “Hey Nim do you want pizza for dinner?” and they’ll excitedly proclaim “Hell yeah pizza!” 

It takes them a second to realize they’ve been played and when they do they never make a big deal about it

They normally just mumble a curse or two and walk away with their tail between their legs (literally)

The first time Nimona tried to trick Ambrosius was when he was having one of those days 

You know the days when even breathing feels like a fucking battle

This was in a really awkward period too

Like right after Nimona and Ambrosius started trusting each other but right before they really started to get to know each other 

But she knew the boys well enough to know if Bal came home to a sad Ambrosius then he’d be in a bad mood for the rest of the day 

And she knows that the only thing that can cure a mopey Ambrosius is Bal 

She walked into the room and started talking to Ambrosius and was kind of surprised and a little bit peeved about how well she was fooling him

Until he said “You can drop the act Nim I know it’s you” 

They kind of just sat in that silence for a minute until Nimona said the first thing that came to her mind 

“You want me to find my sax?” 

Bal shouldn’t have been surprised to find Nimona disguised as him serenading Ambrosius with the worst freestyle jazz he’s ever heard (which is saying something)

He didn’t even say anything he just sat down and cuddled the love of his life while watching their kid try and play the sax while breakdancing

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

fireflies ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

luke castellan x child of hemera!reader backtrack: "fireflies", owl city inspiration: "till the end of the moon", ep 20

“what’s your happiest memory, luke?” you asked curiously.

he looked down at you, a little frown on his handsome face. “my happiest memory?” he repeated, and you nodded. “meeting you,” he said without hesitation, pulling you into his chest.

“flatterer.” your voice came out muffled.

“you love it.”

“yeah,” you admit, cherishing this rare moment of peace and quiet. you and luke had snuck out of the hermes cabin again, escaping into the woods to the wooden bench swing you had installed several months ago. it was located in a small clearing by the lake; you didn’t know if anyone else knew about it, but if anyone did, they hadn’t said anything yet. the stars were out and it was quite chilly, but being pressed up against your boyfriend fixed that problem easily.

“I’m serious, though,” luke said, his voice a low rumble. “and I know I don’t say stuff like this often, but really . . . the moment I saw you, I knew I was done for. you were so bright, so positive . . . the complete opposite of me.”

a light blush on your face, you reached up and pulled luke down so his lips met yours. you felt him smile against you, leaning into the kiss as his arms reached around you to keep you pressed to him. you dragged your hands through his hair, down his shoulders, across his chest. by the time you pulled away for air, both of you were breathing heavily.

luke smirked and brushed some hair out of your eyes. “you were looking for a different answer, weren’t you?” he asked knowingly, referring to your first question.

you smiled a little. “yeah,” you admitted. “I wanna know what your life was like before coming to camp. I mean, I know it was awful” -- luke’s childhood was a bit of a touchy subject that both you and him didn’t often talk about -- “but there had to have been something that was good. something, anything, that made you happy.”

luke hesitated, hands absent-mindedly tracing shapes on your arms. “I guess. . .” he frowned a little, as if the memory was hard to think about. “there was one time thalia, annabeth and I camped out in the woods. we were near a lake, and it was peaceful. the stars were out, we could hear the crickets . . . it was a lot like this, actually.” he gestured to the clearing around you. “a bunch of fireflies came out at night, just buzzing and flying around us, lighting everything up.”

you hummed in acknowledgement. “that sounds beautiful,” you said gently.

he smiled a little, a faraway look in his eyes. “it was,” he said softly. “it was the first time I felt at peace since . . . well. since leaving.” his eyes grew sad, longing for the memory that had been buried so deep inside.

you hugged him comfortingly, laying your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I asked,” you said quietly. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“no, no.” luke turned his head and pressed a kiss on your hair. “I’m happy to share these things with you. it just makes me sad to remember. but at least I have you.”

you could sense he was trying to make you feel better. so you did the natural thing.

children of hemera like you had control of diurnal animals. fireflies were diurnal animals. so you reached out around you, calling to all the fireflies in the area. they appeared, slowly at first, then all at once, thousands of little lights emerging from the dark night and floating around you. luke’s eyes widened as he gasped softly, sitting up straighter and turning his head this way and that, taking in everything around you.

“you have me,” you said softly, pressing a loving kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. “and at least we have the fireflies.”

divider by @strangergraphics

taglist: @loveinalocket

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 5: The Haunted House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, no Willis this time yay!!! 🥳

Word Count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 🥰🧁

Every house is haunted, not just by phantoms of the past but by the ghosts of what could have been. They live in shadows, in doorways, in the periphery of your vision; you walk through them like smoke or mist. Their blood—pooled and pulseless—is a cold spot in a sweltering room, their fingerprints are the woodgrain swirls of floorboards. If you listen closely, you can hear them at night in the chorus of the cicadas and the owls and the wet westbound wind. They whisper questions you’ve never been able to answer: Have I made the right choices? Have I done the best I could? Is love a myth or does it only exist for other people? Am I a prisoner of the past or the future or myself? Why have I never been chosen?

In the bathtub, you stare at the pale blue walls veined with cracks like the legs of a spider. On the tree swing in the front yard—here long before you moved in, inherited from the effort and care of another family’s hands—you skim your bare feet over emerald blades of grass and watch the lightning bugs appear at dusk. In Cadi’s room, you play the Nintendo when she asks and try to forget who gave it to her; and when she asks about Aemond, you say he’s busy with work, because how else can you explain his absence to a child? In the kitchen, you break eggs into glass bowls of vanilla, sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, but you keep getting pieces of shell in the mix, something that almost never happens anymore. You snap, grab an egg, pitch it against the refrigerator where it explodes into calcium carbonate shrapnel and sterile yellow gore.

Amir looks up, startled. Behind his rectangular tortoiseshell glasses, his eyes dart between you and the viscera that stains the refrigerator door. At last he says softly, seriously: “What is it you liked so much about him?” Implicit in this statement are others: You’ve never liked a man this much. You’ll never see Aemond again.

You study your palms, tools of creation, tools that destroy. “I spend every second of my life consumed by responsibilities. The house, the car, the bakery, the bills, Cadi, Willis, myself, even you. There’s no one to tell me what the right thing to do is. There’s no one who can carry the weight for me. I can’t show it when I’m tired or frustrated or scared. And so to have someone who—even for an hour, even for fifteen minutes—could take care of me, and make all the decisions, and convince me to trust him…it’s the closest I ever get to being at peace.”

Amir gives you a sad, vanishingly small smile. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” And you wet a dishcloth so you can begin to clean up your mess.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Thursday, and you’re coming home after delivering cakes for a birthday party down in Thibodaux. Your car radio is blaring Message In A Bottle by The Police. When you roll into the gravel driveway, the red Audi Quattro is waiting for you: parked right beside the house, like he belongs here, like he owns it. You throw open the door of your Chevy Celebrity and rage up the sloping, groaning steps of the front porch.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. There is an ambient humming, a chill that raises goosebumps on your bare arms. When you rush to the kitchen, you find an air conditioning unit in one of the windows, a metal box that turns the Fall-Down House into a tundra. They’re sitting at the hastily-cleared counter: Aemond leafing through the ledger book containing the financial records for the bakery, Amir beside him sipping a glass of sweet tea. Aemond glances up at you and then back down at the pale green pages, the lines of his face intense, focused. Amir greets you with a nervous titter, hiding behind his sweet tea. Ice jangles in the glass.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Our new air conditioner!” Amir says, overjoyed. “The customers are going to love it. No more waiting around in a stifling kitchen. You know how miserable it gets in here during the summer. We won’t be able to get rid of them! They’ll be purchasing cupcakes by the dozen just to have an excuse to get out of the heat!”

Aemond is still scrutinizing the ledger. “Why aren’t you buying in bulk?” he asks Amir. “The shelf life on things like sugar and flour has got to be six months at least.”

“We don’t have the liquid capital. We can’t spend cash if we don’t have cash.”

“And all these business expenses—mixers, coolers, pans, blenders, knives, the gas you burn when you make deliveries, the water you use to wash dishes—those are all tax write-offs, right?”

Amir hesitates. Aemond is aghast, his eyebrows shooting up into the blonde hair that shags over his forehead. The strands are damp with sweat and curling at the edges; he’s been working hard. He’s the one who heaved the air conditioner up onto the window ledge. His Marlboro jacket is draped over the back of his barstool. He’s wearing jeans, a black MTV t-shirt, and his Adidas sneakers.

“Please tell me you haven’t been paying income tax on money you aren’t actually keeping.”

“I didn’t know what we were allowed to write off, I was petrified to make a mistake! I don’t want to end up in Rikers!”

“They don’t put people in Rikers for tax evasion. You’d only go to minimum security.”

Amir rolls his eyes. “Well now you’ve convinced me.”

You are betrayed, furious. “You’re showing him the book?”

“He’s very bossy,” Amir says, slurping his sweet tea. “As you know.”

Aemond asks you, making notes on a legal pad he’s commandeered: “Do you have an IRA?”

“A what?”

“An IRA,” Aemond repeats slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “An individual retirement account.”

Should I? Could I? What the hell is that? “Um. I don’t think so.”

Aemond sighs, exasperated. He jots down another bullet point on his legal pad. “You need one.”

“I need you to get out of my house.”

“Shh!” Amir pleads. “He bought us an air conditioner!”

“Do you know how much that’s going to cost us in electricity? The bill is going to go through the roof. We’re not going to be able to afford this. And he doesn’t care, because he hasn’t even thought of it. Drop an oil rig into a lake and solve the unemployment crisis. Throw an air conditioner in a window and buy someone’s loyalty. He doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t care about us. He’s not capable of it.”

“I’ll pay for the electricity,” Aemond says. Now he’s looking at you.

“Get out,” you demand.

He seems—perplexingly—to be genuinely wounded. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Get out!”

Aemond stands, walks to you, backs you up until your shoulder blades hit the refrigerator. The metal door is cluttered with Cadi’s drawings, secured there with multicolored alphabet magnets: dinosaurs eating people, Rambo, astronauts rocketing to the moon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond is so close you can smell the cigarette smoke and cologne and sweat on him, see the smudges of ink on his fingers. His right eye travels all over you, defiant and hungry. His left eye—and you only notice when there’s no space left between you—is an impassive, glassy, not-quite-identical blue that never moves. It’s an imposter, and a very good one; but it’s not him. You think, unable to say it: What happened to your face? Who hurt you? Instead you strike out to shove Aemond away with both hands.

“Get out of my house—!”

“You want to get rough with me? Will that make you feel better?” he murmurs darkly, ignoring your palms when they collide with his chest, his collarbones, his jaw. Your flesh can’t hurt him, it can only graze his skin like stray bullets. “You want to hit me? Go ahead. I’ve had worse. I promise you I have.”

“I hate you!”

But you haven’t said the right word, and you both know it. He grabs your wrists, holds them still, whispers low and menacing into your ear as you struggle to rip your hands out of his grasp. “I dreamed about you all night. Tying you down, stretching you open. I want that. I think you do too.”

“I don’t want it,” you hiss; but already you’re imagining him on top of you, inside you, in control of you, and to resist that is like trying to fight the instinct to seek water, sleep, sunlight.

“Then tell me to stop.”

You glare up at Aemond, raging, burning. His gaze locks with yours and stays there. You are suddenly aware of the heat of his fingers linked around your wrists, of the pressure of his hips against yours as he pins you to the refrigerator. You can’t say it. I don’t want him to stop touching me. I don’t want him to leave and never come back.

Again, Aemond dares you: “Tell me to stop.”

From the kitchen counter, Amir is gawking at you both, his eyes huge, stunned, painfully uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he doesn’t look away. “I’m not leaving,” he informs Aemond. Just in case you’re weak enough to agree to something you’ll regret later; just in case you need a friend.

The spell breaks, the curse lifts. Aemond releases you and takes several steps back. He breathes deeply, running his fingers through his damp hair, composing himself. “You’re a good person,” he says to Amir.

“Thanks. I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment.”

Aemond turns back to you. Now he’s penitent, measured. Already, a part of you misses the weight of his bones on yours. But that’s not why Aemond is here. “Let me talk. Let me explain.”

No, you almost say. I’m not interested. I don’t want you anymore. There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me feel at peace with you again.

Instead, after long moments colored by waning sunlight and the whirring of the new air conditioner in the window: “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re on the tree swing, gripping the ropes and swaying slightly back and forth as you push off with your bare feet, rocking from your heels to your toes and then back again. Aemond lights a cigarette and takes a drag as he sits cross-legged on the grass in front of you. Amir keeps peeking out from between the blinds of the living room windows. Aemond glances around the yard, and you realize he’s searching for the alligator. His Marlboro jacket is folded neatly on the ground next to him.

“The gator’s not here right now, Aemond. She’s probably over in the trees. She’s not going to hurt you.”

He nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He fidgets restlessly with his cigarette.

All that money, all that power, all that ecological ruin, and he’s petrified of a five-foot gator that’s probably never eaten anything bigger than a pelican. It’s ridiculous. You smile weakly. “I think you have a phobia.”

He gestures to his scar, to his ruined left eye. “I’m afraid one will sneak up on me and I won’t be able to see it.”

He’s never spoken like this to you before, acknowledging his limitations, his impairment. He’s trying to be honest. He really is. “Where’s Christabel?”

“Back in the U.K.”

“When are you getting married?”

He shrugs, uninterested. “A few months from now, I guess. July. August. It doesn’t matter. I’m not really involved in the planning.”

“You’re a cheater,” you say. It comes out less accusatory than mournful. Why did you have to disappoint me? Why did you have to ruin this?

Aemond is dismissive. He puffs on his cigarette. “Everyone cheats.”

“No they don’t.”

“Everyone from my world cheats,” Aemond amends. “You marry for money or status or land or whatever, to prove you can snag someone who should be above you, to make your parents proud of you, to make sure your children have the right last name and titles. Then when the novelty fades—and it does, it always does—you find passion elsewhere.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s aristocratic. Poor people get divorced two or three times. They have public brawls and call the cops on each other. We just have a different solution to life’s inevitabilities. My mother cheats with Criston, Daemon and Rhaenyra cheated with each other, I cheat with you, Aegon cheats with…I couldn’t even list them. A lot of people.”

Aegon. So that’s the debaucherous brother’s name. “Not all fancy rich people cheat. Prince Charles doesn’t cheat.”

Aemond bursts out laughing. “Of course he does! He’s been fucking Camilla Parker Bowles since like 1970!”

Your stomach sinks. Poor Diana. “I thought they were just friends now.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what the tabloids say.” He inhales smoke—cancerous, lethal—and then exhales it in a grey gale like fog. “I think they stopped for a few years after he got married. But presently they spend as much time as they possibly can rendezvousing at all their friends’ country estates. Charles and Diana are miserable, but they’ll never split up. She’s entertaining herself with a cavalry officer named James Hewitt. Who looks suspiciously like Prince Harry, by the way.”

“And who does your father fuck on the side? Nancy Reagan?”

“He prefers the memory of a dead woman to my living mother. I’d say that counts as infidelity.”

The photograph Aegon showed me on the Targaryens’ refrigerator. Rhaenyra’s mother. And what else had been on that refrigerator? Pictures of the rest of the family? Old sketches and report cards? Souvenirs? A calendar with upcoming birthdays circled or starred? No. There was nothing. You consider Aemond with a disorienting blend of pity and barbed, venomous frustration. “I’m sorry Viserys has never been a good father to you. But that’s not an excuse to ruin other people’s lives.”

“Look, what you did…” Aemond begins with sizable effort. He puts the end of his cigarette out on the sole of one of his Adidas sneakers. “To walk away from something you believe isn’t right when everyone else is telling you to stay…that’s not easy. And maybe for you it didn’t feel so insurmountable because you’ve had to learn how to survive painful things on your own before. But all I’ve ever done was break my own bones so my father would notice me. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. I’ve fractured my ribs, my hands, my skull. And it’s still not enough. Love isn’t given in my family. I have to earn it. It’s all I know.”

“You could learn something new.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t. That’s not a language I speak.”

Exactly how bad of a father was Viserys Targaryen? “Aemond, what happened to your face?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

You study him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my Camilla,” Aemond says.

“No. No way.” But you’re amazed by how badly you want to say yes. One word and he’ll touch me again? One word and I can have him back the way we were before? It doesn’t seem possible to resist that. It’s not something that should be expected of any mortal.

“I want to be around you. I want you to keep making me feel the way you do, because it’s…it’s…it’s not something I get from anyone else. And I want to make your life better. I have the ability to do that.”

“Because you’re an oil tycoon.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees. “I was born to be one, and so I am. But even if I wasn’t—if I refused, if I died—it’s not like the trillion-dollar industry would just disappear. There’s Jade Dragon, sure, but there’s also ExxonMobil, Shell, British Petroleum, Chevron, Valero, Marathon, a hundred others. Someone would be drilling on Lake Verret regardless. But the person in charge might be less scrupulous than I am. I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Were you in Ketchikan when the spill happened there?”

“No. I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project. It was a fuckup, it was Jade Dragon’s fault. But my father is the one fighting it in court. I have no control over that.”

Someone else’s project…

“Come to my house tonight,” he says.

“No, Aemond.”

“Then come over on Saturday.” And you think: He remembered which days Cadi is usually with Willis.

“I don’t want to be your mistress.” I want to be more than that, oh God, I want so much more. You think of Christabel touching him and wrenching nausea cuts through you like a blade. You imagine Aemond’s hands taking off her clothes—zippers, buttons, ribbons, belts—and you feel like there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to stop it from happening.

“We’re from two very different words,” Aemond says calmly, sensibly. “And it’s going to be impossible for us to understand each other unless we make an effort to learn about where we’ve come from. You’ve invited me into your home, your business, your family, and I’m very grateful for that. Now I need to do the same. And I think if you see more of my life, you’ll realize why I make the decisions I do and what it would mean for us to be together. Because in my experience, husbands and wives aren’t soulmates like they are in books or movies. It’s someone else who you actually…” He breaks off, then continues once he’s decided on the phrasing. “Spend most of your time with.”

Part of you knows that this arrangement would be hopelessly inadequate; you would feel like you were settling for less than you want, you would feel unchosen. But the louder part of you is clinging to it like a life raft. I want him to touch me again. I want him to make me forget about everything else. “I’ll think about it. Visiting the house, I mean.”

“Please do,” Aemond says. “How was Cadi’s weekend fishing?”

He really does listen to you; he remembers things. Even things you mention once and then never again. “She loved it. Willis knows more about the bayou than I’ll ever know about baking. They caught three catfish, four breams, and a bass, and then they made them into fish sticks. Thank God she has one parent who can cook. Even if Willis thinks Hungry Jack mashed potatoes are a vegetable. You know what he puts in the pot instead of milk? Coffee creamer. Cups of it.”

Aemond doesn’t seem pleased to be reminded of Willis’ existence. He says, rather mechanically: “I’m really glad Cadi enjoyed herself.” He grabs his Marlboro jacket, rises to his feet, scans the yard for the alligator. She’s made an appearance at last: she’s sunbathing about ten yards away, nowhere near close enough to be a nuisance. Still, Aemond frowns. Then he clears his face and looks back to you one last time as he strides towards his Audi Quattro. “And Cupcake?”

You peer up at him, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“When you come to the house…” He grins. Not if. When. “Bring your swimsuit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You cut the engine and survey the grand entranceway of the house that the Targaryens call The Last Desire, words in Greek that you couldn’t pronounce. The blue merle Great Dane—Vhagar, you recall, yet another bizarre foreign name—is lurking between the towering white columns of the wraparound porch. “Fantastic,” you mutter, stepping out of the car. It’s Saturday, 2 p.m., hot and muggy and cicadas screeching in the southern live oaks. Green anoles dart across the cobblestones and freshly-painted white wood of the porch. Whooping cranes, haughty and fragile, ogle you with reptilian yellow eyes.

You pause when you reach the bottom step of the porch. The Great Dane growls at you, her lips curling up to show long fanglike teeth. You’re carrying two bakery boxes stacked on top of each other: one contains a dozen blueberry pie cupcakes, the second filled with fresh Cap’n Crunch Treats. You glance around for someone to assist you with the hostile dog situation. You have no interest in attempting to shove her away like Alicent did on the day of the engagement party.

Blessedly, the head butler materializes in the doorway and beckons you inside. When Vhagar snarls as you approach, the butler pulls a small plastic water gun from the pocket of his black dress pants. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he tells you, and then squirts the dog several times. Vhagar reluctantly lopes away. “Please allow me to escort you to the pool. Mr. Targaryen instructed us to be on the lookout for you.” Then he breezes into the house without checking to make sure you’re following him.

You trot after the butler through the white-and-gold foyer, the deep red living room, and then out into the garden. There is a long row of neon green lounge chairs on the side of the pool opposite of the water slide. Three of the chairs are occupied. Helaena is stretched across one wearing a frilly one-piece, floral with ladybugs; her chameleon is perched on the top of the adjustable backrest. Alicent is in the chair beside her, dressed in a turquoise blue coverup that matches the pool water and reading The Silence of the Lambs. They both wave nonchalantly, seemingly unsurprised by your presence. And then there’s Aegon. He’s smoking a joint as a black boombox beside him plays The Cure’s Why Can’t I Be You? You place both bakery boxes on a table shielded from the sun by a large green umbrella.

“What’s in there?” Aegon asks. He’s wearing pink plastic sunglasses, a radiant fuchsia sunburn, and a Speedo patterned with pineapples. His ferret is curled up in his lap and napping.

“Blueberry pie cupcakes and Cap’n Crunch Treats.”

“Yes! Pass me one of each.”

“Don’t be rude, Aegon,” Alicent says dully, turning a page of her book. “She’s not a servant.”

“She’s a literal baker. I’m asking for baked goods.”

“Dear, I’ve been singing your praises to every single person I cross paths with in this jungle of a town,” Alicent tells you, ignoring him. “Have you noticed yet?”

You hand Aegon his treats; he marvels at the miniature blueberry pie placed atop the cupcake frosting before scarfing it down. “I think we’ve had more customers than usual this week, now that you mention it. Thank you so much! Amir and I are more grateful than we could ever express.”

“Oh, it’s the least I could do, love,” Alicent says. Criston appears with a strawberry daiquiri and gives it to her, complete with a swirl of whipped cream and a little pink toothpick umbrella pierced through a wedge of lime. Criston wears a pair of roomy Hawaiian board shorts and his single gold earring. Alicent takes a sip. “Heavenly! I am completely revived.”

“Helaena, would you like one?” Criston asks.

“Yes please.”

“And one for Aemond’s friend too, please,” Alicent says. Criston nods and hurries off again. Nobody asks if Aegon wants a strawberry daiquiri. He gnaws moodily at his cupcake and then when it’s gone moves on to the Cap’n Crunch Treat. Helaena’s chameleon snatches a dragonfly out of the air with its tongue. Alicent shudders.

Aemond’s friend? Friend?? You sit down on the lounge chair next to Aegon, still wearing your pale pink coverup. He tells you: “Aemond should be back soon. He got a phone call and had to swing by the rigs after lunch but he didn’t think it would take long.” Then Aegon smiles toothily, and you notice he has residual white powder around the corners of his lips and just inside his nostrils. “It’s good to meet you properly this time, now that I’m aware of all your talents.”

“You know about Aemond’s…uh…preferences?”

“Oh yeah, and I knew he had a girl. He always has to have a girl. I just didn’t know it was you. He doesn’t usually bring them around the family.”

You steal a glimpse of Alicent and Helaena. If they’re listening in, they’re doing an excellent job of not acting like they are.

“I think we should address this,” Aegon says.

You are stymied. “Address what?”

“It would never work, me and you.”

“I hadn’t even thought of it.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Aegon says. He flourishes a hand melodramatically. “You need a dom. I am, lamentably, an irredeemable sub. I’m a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

“Okay, Aegon.”

“I just needed to break the tension.”

“I think you’re imagining that.”

There are footsteps, the slapping of flip flops against the cobblestones, and then someone who looks like a younger, more cheerful, more sober Aegon arrives at the pool. He is dressed in royal blue swim trunks that stop at his mid-thigh; his wavy blond hair is down to his shoulders. Like his family members, he also does not seem at all surprised to see you. “Hi,” he says, shaking your hand. “I’m Daeron. I didn’t get to introduce myself at the engagement party. I’m sorry about that. I was entangled in a very competitive tennis match on the courts out back for most of the day.”

Alicent asks: “Daeron, love, would you like a strawberry daiquiri when Criston reappears?”

“Yeah, Mum, that would be great.” He parks himself on the available chair beside her and begins asking about her book. As they chat, a blue macaw flaps through the garden and uses its long, leathery talons to claim the backrest of Daeron’s lounge chair.

“It’s so sweet of you to take an interest in my reading, Daeron,” Alicent gushes. “None of my other children ever do…”

Aegon groans loudly. Everyone ignores him. Criston arrives with two strawberry daiquiris, one for you and one for Helaena. You take a sip through a plastic straw with several loops in it: icy cold and jarringly sweet.

“And one for Daeron too please, Criston,” Alicent requests. “Did you hear that he just got another article published? It’s about evaluating rock wettability.” Her tone suggests that she has no idea what this means; nonetheless, she is ardently enthusiastic.

“That kid is going places,” Criston says admiringly.

Aegon counters: “That kid’s had phone sex with Michelle Pfeiffer.”

You laugh, thinking that it’s a joke. Daeron just gives you a sheepish smile. Oh, you think. Not a joke.

Criston hustles back inside the house. An old man passes Criston as he strolls out to the pool. He looks around blearily, like he’s hungover or has just woken up from a nap or both. His bloodshot eyes skate over you without much interest. He squints at the pool floats that bob in the rippling, crystalline water, sparkly rings and an assortment of foam noodles and a giant cartoonish alligator.

“How was Kiribati?” Aegon says.

“Much better than here. This goddamn humidity!”

“I can’t believe you missed the engagement party, Father,” Alicent says glumly.

“Oh no, how could I! I’ll never have any way of knowing what transpired!” He plops down onto a chair near the end of the row. His bare feet are gnarled, his toenails long and yellowed. “Let me guess. Cake was served, champagne was toasted, people bragged about their stupid hobbies and their ugly children, that girl scuttled about with her perpetually-startled eyes and asinine comments. Do you remember when she tried to give me her condolences when she learned your mother passed away years ago? Why would I want some moonstruck idiot’s condolences? She didn’t know your mother. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Christabel is very young,” Alicent offers gently.

“She’s very something, that’s for sure. Very useless. Very irritating. This family would be in a much better state if Viserys wasn’t the one making all the decisions. His judgment has declined precipitously.” He casts a poisonous glare at Aegon. Aegon pretends not to notice.

“I like Christabel,” Helaena says. Her chameleon gobbles up a butterfly that ventures too close.

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” The old man’s voice is kinder now. “You see the best in everyone. But dear Helaena, we are in for a lifetime of insipid simpers and vapid conversations.”

“A lifetime?” Aegon says. “So not much longer for you, Grandfather. What a comfort.”

The old man glowers at Aegon. “We should have left you in Alaska to have your throat slit by those animals.” And you hear Aemond’s words reverberating in your skull: I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project.

Aegon is rolling himself a fresh joint, accidentally spilling sprinkles of weed on his slumbering ferret. He snorts. “I don’t care what Alaskans think of me.”

Daeron says: “Aegon, you poisoned 1,000 square miles of the ocean.”

“The fucking ocean,” Aegon mutters. “What do we even need the ocean for?”

“Vacations,” Otto says.

Helaena adds: “Sushi.”

Daeron is distressed. “Actually, the ocean is super important.”

“Why are we talking about the ocean?” Aemond asks as he strolls through the garden and pauses by the edge of the pool to dip a foot in to test the temperature. He’s wearing black swim trunks and nothing else, just his skin, just his scar and his glass left eye. He sees you, smiles, goes to the bakery boxes and lifts out a cupcake. He sits down on the edge of your lounge chair as he licks off the wave-blue frosting. No one makes any comment, and no one brings up Aegon’s role in the Ketchikan oil spill again.

Criston returns once more with a strawberry daiquiri for Daeron. “Well, I’ve just about killed the blender, so hopefully we don’t need any more—”

“But Criston!” Alicent cries. “What about Aemond and my father? Perhaps they are in need of refreshments.”

Criston sighs. Crestfallen, he looks at Aemond. “Do you want a strawberry daiquiri?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just have a few sips of hers.”

Aegon says: “Can I get a pina colada?”

Criston turns towards the old man. “Otto? Daiquiri?”

“No, but if you could immediately teleport me back to the South Pacific, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Pina colada??” Aegon says again.

“Okay, Aegon,” Criston snaps. “Calm down. Let me figure out if we have any more coconut cream.” Alicent’s part-time bodyguard and personal assistant, part-time babysitter, part-time affair partner vanishes into the house yet again.

Aegon lurches to his feet. “No one listens to me,” he tells you morosely. “You see that? No one remembers. That’s how you know they don’t care.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alicent tells Aegon, not looking up from her book.

“Wait, someone is missing…” Otto muses, stroking his beard.

Aegon staggers to the edge of the pool, drags over a sparkly turquoise inflatable ring, and flops onto it. He paddles himself out towards the center of the pool. His ferret bounds after him, leaps into the water, and swims until it reaches Aegon, wriggling through the blue like a golden-furred snake. “Hey Sunfyre, you wanted to come too?” Aegon lifts the soaked ferret from the water and places it on his chest, soft and sunburned. “My bad. I assumed you’d prefer dry land.”

Otto—cantankerous and grating—looks around, baffled. “Wait, where’s Viserys?”

“He’s inspecting some of the rigs out in the Gulf of Mexico,” Aemond says as he finishes the cupcake and takes a slurp of your daiquiri. “He won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Thank God,” Aegon exclaims from the middle of the pool.

Alicent changes the subject. “How long have you been baking, dear?” she asks you.

“Forever, basically. But I started getting serious about making it a business when my daughter was really young, about nine years ago. Now Amir and I sell hundreds of items a week, sometimes thousands.”

Daeron is nodding along, but he appears a little confused. He has gotten himself a Cap’n Crunch Treat and is feeding pieces of it to his blue macaw. “And you do that because…you want to?”

“Well I have to pay rent.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“And I could have been a checkout girl at the Doller General, or worked seasonally harvesting soybeans or sugarcane, or begged my ex-husband to get me a job in the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office…but I wanted to do something that didn’t make me miserable. And something that was really mine, that I chose.” Aemond is watching you thoughtfully. The other Targaryens are a tad interested but far more perplexed. They can’t understand work the way you do. They can’t understand money as something that must be counted.

“Brilliant!” Alicent declares at last. “Well, maybe one day we’ll have you making six cakes for Helaena’s engagement party, who knows!”

“It would be my absolute pleasure. Do you have a potential husband hanging around, Helaena?”

She giggles, covering her blushing face with both hands. Her chameleon creeps down to cling to her shoulder, as if to make sure she’s alright. Its conical eyes flit in random directions, an unmitigated freak of nature. You should have more compassion for it.

Aemond grins. “Helaena is responsible for no less than three broken engagements. She can’t commit.”

“And she’s only into guys who look like Aegon,” Daeron adds.

“No!” Helaena objects. “That is such a lie, that’s not true!”

“Evander?” Daeron says.

Helaena pauses to think. “Okay, yes, he looked kind of like Aegon.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Alicent frets, nibbling at the fingernail of her pinky.

“Dimitri?” Aemond says.

“Oh no,” Helaena moans; but she’s laughing too. “Oh no.”

“Sebastian?” Aegon says, and now they’re all howling.

Otto shakes his head. “Freud would definitely have some thoughts about this.”

“Bloody hell,” Helaena whimpers, swiping tears from her face. Her chameleon nudges her jaw with its shimmering, blue-green muzzle. “I totally only date guys who look like Aegon.”

Aegon shrugs from where he’s floating in the pool with Sunfyre. “Good taste, I’d say. Fuck them all, homegirl.”

“Aegon!” Alicent shouts, scandalized.

Criston dashes out of the house and to the edge of the pool, clutching a pina colada that is swiftly melting. “You better paddle yourself over here, kid. I don’t offer in-water delivery.”

“You’d do it for my mother.”

“Probably. But you’re not her.”

Aegon groans as he splashes around without making much progress. “Okay, okay, give me a second…”

Aemond turns to you. “How do you like the house? I realized I never got the chance to ask last weekend.”

“I like all the stained glass, and I like that every room is a different color. The living room is red, the dining room is yellow, the kitchen is teal, Aegon’s bedroom is black—”

“Wait, how do you know?” Aemond is alarmed.

You chuckle. “No, no, not like that. I was lost and looking for a bathroom.”

“Didn’t do anything,” Aegon announces from his pool float. “Didn’t do it, didn’t try it, didn’t even think about it. Well…maybe I thought about it. But I definitely did not do anything.”

“Okay.” Aemond exhales, relived. “Close call.”

“What color is your room?”

He’s not going to waste the opportunity to extend an invitation. “Let me show you.”

On the same floor as Aegon’s punk rock bedroom and the lilac bathroom, you trail Aemond to the end of the hallway. At last he opens a door to reveal a room that is a deep, vivid blue like sapphires. The bookshelves that touch the ceiling are filled not with texts on engineering or the energy industry but histories of people whose names you don’t recognize. He has a massive wooden canopy bed swathed in dark blue velvet patterned with circling koi fish made of stars. He has a writing desk, a wardrobe full of suits, a television with an extensive VHS collection. The stained glass windows are a whirlpool of cerulean, navy, aquamarine, indigo, steel, azure. When you peer through the glass, you can see the gleaming currents of Lake Verret and the twisted dead ends of the bayou that forms at its edges, treacherous and untamed.

And when you start to feel that if Aemond tried to grab you, undress you, tie knots around your wrists you wouldn’t stop him, you tell him that you want to go back outside to the pool; and Aemond listens, and he doesn’t try to touch you even once.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, two days later, and Aemond calls to ask if he can bring you and Cadi dinner. He shows up with all the trappings of what he insists is real Italian food, doubtlessly prepared by his family’s private chefs: focaccia, caprese salad, ossobuco, risotto, Bolognese, panna cotta. He forgets the red wine, so you drink sweet tea instead, the three of you crowded around the kitchen counter, ceaselessly passing dishes back and forth while the little pink Panasonic boombox plays You Spin Me Round by Dead Or Alive.

“Hey Mom?” Cadi says as she chomps on a hunk of focaccia.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you ever cook dinners like this?”

There’s a tiny little gut punch, something you’re used to swallowing down even if it bruises you to the heart, to the bones. She doesn’t know any better. You can’t cry, you can’t get mad. You shrug, dispassionate. Aemond glances over at you, abruptly tense but not saying anything. “Well honey, it’s probably because my job can be really busy sometimes, and I spend most of the day in the kitchen, so when dinner time comes around the last thing I want to do is cook. But we always have food to eat, right?”

“Yeah. Like Amir’s leftovers or frozen pizza or something. But all my friends’ moms cook nice dinners most nights. Can’t you do that? When I go to Michelle or Erica’s house for dinner their moms make barbeque ribs, gumbo, seafood boils, etouffee, tasso ham, homemade macaroni and cheese, like real dinners. I want us to have that too. What if my friends want to eat dinner here sometime? I can’t bring them over and then just throw some Swanson’s meals at them.”

Aemond has put his fork down on his plate and is clasping his hands together, trying to figure out what to say. But he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his place.

You tell Cadi, as calmly as you can: “Different families have different kinds of dinners, and that’s okay. I bet your friends’ moms don’t have cakes and cookies around all the time, but you always have tons of dessert options. Our situation looks different than theirs, but there’s nothing wrong with either one.”

“But desserts aren’t even good for kids. Dinner is way more important. You can’t say I get cakes instead of dinner, too much cake will give me diseases or something.”

“Okay, Cadi. That’s enough. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m just saying it seems totally unfair that my friends get real dinners and I almost never do.”

Michelle and Erica’s moms don’t work. They have husbands to support them. So they can spend all day babying a fucking tasso ham, but I don’t have that luxury. And I don’t want to be chained to a man. I don’t want to trade having a say in how my life turns out for being able to slave away over dinner for four or five hours. “I regret to inform you that I’m not like Michelle and Erica’s moms.”

“I wish you were,” Cadi murmurs, entirely unaware of what she’s done. You bite your lower lip so you don’t snap at her, or try to explain, or break down sobbing. You taste blood, hot sharp copper that blooms like wildflowers.

Aemond stands up. His barstool squeals against the sloping wooden floor. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” he asks Cadi.

“Aemond, what…?” you begin, but he’s already headed for the front door.

Cadi blinks up at him, horrified. “Why?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to show you something. Come on. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Cadi says doubtfully, looking at you. You give her your best reassuring smile, and she slides off her barstool and follows after Aemond. The front door opens and shuts. You don’t hear shouting, you don’t hear much of anything except the air conditioner and the boombox and the mourning doves, the long-eared owl, the cicadas, the bayou, the universe. You go to one of the living room windows and part the blinds to peek outside.

What you see is strange. Cadi is sitting on the swing, and Aemond is kneeling in front of her so they’re just about at the same eye level. You can see half of Aemond’s face; Cadi is blocking the rest. He’s explaining something to her with patient yet insistent gestures of his hands. Cadi says something, and Aemond nods and replies. He points to his scar, his glass eye, and says something else. Cadi asks a question, and Aemond hesitates. Then he acquiesces and moves closer to where she is perched on the tree swing. He reaches up towards the scarred side of his face, but you can’t see his eye. When he lowers his palm, there’s a small piece of curved, oval-shaped glass that glints in the dying sunlight.

“Cool!” you can hear Cadi exclaim, muffled through the windows that are now closed on account of the new air conditioning unit. She says something else, and Aemond agrees. You watch her hand extending towards his face, towards the injury he has revealed to her for reasons you can’t comprehend. You rush to other windows, trying to get a better view, but there’s no way for you to get a clear line of sight. Before you know it, your hear their footsteps drumming up the porch steps. The front door opens just as you’re scrambling back onto your barstool.

“Everything alright?” you say, more nervously than you intend to.

“Yup,” Cadi replies. She climbs into her seat and resumes wolfing down focaccia and Bolognese.

You look over at Aemond, bewildered. His glass eye is back in its socket. He appears composed, but you notice the fresh sheen of sweat on his forehead, at his temples, at the nape of his neck. He gives you a casual little smirk and then returns to his barstool. He picks up his full glass of sweet tea and drains it in three massive gulps.

“Hey Mom,” Cadi says, and your throat is suddenly full of embers.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Tonight is really fun,” she says. She twirls her fork in the pappardelle pasta of the Bolognese, splattering red sauce over her cheeks. “This is great. I want to do this more often.”

And the embers in your throat cool, vanish, are replaced by something vast and free.

“You really do need a new house,” Aemond says as he helps you clean up after dinner; Cadi has already abandoned you both for her Nintendo. “There are new constructions a little further down Route 401, between here and Lake Verret. Three bedrooms, two baths. Not a castle or anything, just the right size for you and Cadi. We can go look at them sometime.”

“I don’t need a whole new house. There are midcentury homes all over the place down here. They’re small, and they might need fixing up, but they’re a lot cheaper.” Then you add, because it sounds less pathetic: “And maybe it’s nice to have a house with some history, some character.”

“Old can be charming and quaint, sure. But brand new is better.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles. “No ghosts.”

[atlasscrumpit]

Okay, I have an request for platonic Yandere Miguel or moon boys with autistic reader (or just reader if you want)

I just thought since reader is a kid who can’t handle much pressure from these rules with even a small amount of freedom that isn’t even enough to make reader happy. So reader begins to dissociate as wanting to be somewhere but there.

I know it’s sad and confusing but I have experience one of those and I thought I could share that.

(If you don’t want to do it, I have no problem with that, also thank you. Have a nice day or night 🫶)

With love, owl anon 🦉

Platonic Yandere Miguel

“I’ll get you some new toys, Okay? Whatever you want.” Miguel said as you sat on the floor with tears in your eyes after a rough break down. 

“No! They aren’t the same! I want my toys!” You screamed as Miguel rubbed his head and groaned softly. 

“You’re not getting your damn toys, because they’re gone! I burnt that entire house down, everyone thinks you’re dead and I am all you have left! Do you understand!?” He shouted as you looked up at him in shock. 

“I hate you!” You screamed before running away and locking yourself in his room. 

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his head, he decided it was better for you to have some time alone until you calmed down. 

—

An hour later Miguel opened the door to his room and saw you laying on your side on his bed, staring at the wall. 

“Babydoll, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m just trying to get you to understand all of this. We have rules in this house.” He said sitting on the edge and running his hand through your hair. 

“Whatever.” You muttered, your voice weak from crying and screaming. 

“Y/N, I’m trying to keep you safe. I want you to have a good life here.” He continued, still running his hand through your hair. 

You didn’t bother to reply to him as you just continued to stare at the wall. He sighed and covered you with some blankets, kissing your forehead softly. 

“I’ll let you rest.”

—

Miguel had done everything he could to try and get you to be yourself again, but it was as if you had gone into shut down mode.

He had bought new toys, new blankets, new pillows and everything but nothing seemed to work. 

He came home one day after getting some groceries to see you still laying on the couch staring at the TV. 

“Y/N, I told you to get up and clean your room while I was gone.” He grumbled as he started putting the groceries away. 

“Don’t care.” You muttered in response as he sighed and knelt in front of you. 

“I told you there would be punishments didn’t I? No more TV.” He said turning it off. 

“I hate you.” You growled as he looked down at you. 

“Excuse me?” He warned, kneeling back down. 

“You know, I’ve been patient with you lately. But, you’re getting on my last nerve. I have given you everything you want, all I ask is you behave.” He scolded as you looked at him. 

“You’ve given me everything but freedom. I want to go outside…” You replied, your voice filled with sadness. 

“You can’t go outside, Y/N.” He said before you turned around and faced your back to him. 

“Fine, we’ll work something out, okay? We can have time up on the roof together, star gaze, play some games and I’ll make sure no one comes up there.” He said as you smiled a little and turned around again. 

“Really?” You whispered, Miguel felt a wave of relief run through him when he saw you smile. 

“Yes, I promise we can work something out.” He replied, reaching up to brush your hair out of your face. 

He could finally see the light coming back to your eyes.

[hashtagboykisser]

R. WEASLEY X READER !!

R. WEASLEY X READER !!

prompt: ronald weasley discovers his massive crush on y/n l/n, but he may have made it a bit too obvious…

requested by: no one

warnings: none(?), seamus being an ass for a bit, everyone hating on seamus😭 (ilhsm, seamus is my baby)

gryffindor!fem!reader x ronald b. weasley

“i’m in love!” the younger weasley boy shouted, maybe a bit too loudly, bursting into the boys gryffindor dormitory. 

“who’s the next victim, and how do you plan to torture them this time?” seamus smirked, raising his eyebrows in response.

“shut up, seamus.” ronald spat to the irish boy, somewhat jokingly.

“yeah, cmon, who is it? don’t keep us waiting.” neville replied from one of the beds, suddenly putting down his herbology book.

“well… it’s uh, this girl, y/n l/n.” ronald said, rubbing the back of his neck with a small smile.

“damn ron, she’s hot snatch! you sure you can do this?” seamus joked again.

“seamus! stop being such a git!” dean said shoving his best friend lightly.

“so, you gonna ask her to the yule ball? it’s coming up soon.” harry suggested.

“yeah! i’m gonna write her love letters every day till the week before, and boom! she’ll be smitten!” the youngest weasley boy said confidently, puffing out his chest.

“suureee….” george sighed, rolling his eyes with a grin.”

“shut it!”

dear y/n,

hello y/n. i have something i must say, i have quite the fancy for you.

but the sad thing to say is that i’m not too sure how exactly to tell you.

i’ll give you a new hint every passing day - up until exactly one week before the yule ball.

hint: gryffindor 4th year.

“my goodness! y/n! i can’t believe it!” hermione said, peering over the letter the girl had gotten from her owl.

“y/n! you have a secret admirer!” hermione said again, getting all excited.

“well, i have no clue who it could be.” y/n reminded.

“it could be anyone in our house and year! harry, ron, dean, neville, seamus-”

“okay okay! i get it!” the girl next to hermione laughed.

“anyone your hoping it to be?” hermione asked nudging her close friend.

“anyone but seamus.” y/n joked.

“hey! what’s wrong with me!” seamus laughed, putting a hand to his heart.

“so do you know who it is?” hermione questioned.

“oh yeah it’s!-”

“NO ONE.” dean smiled as he yelped, covering the mouth of a now flailing seamus finnigan.

“oh really?” y/n asked giving a blank stare.

“nO ONE YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT.” dean said, his smiling getting even bigger and bigger, showing he was up to something, his hand still one seamus mouth.

“uh, sure.” hermione said, turning y/n away.

just before the girls were going to bed in the gryffindor dorms the next night, an owl came fluttering through, which so happened to be yours.

a letter was plopped onto your nightstand and without a second beat, your owl flew off.

dear y/n

it’s me, once again, you looked really nice today

i’ve never seen your hair like that, all wavy and stuff. not to straight, but not to curly, you looked stunning.

do it again sometime

hint: i’m a ginger

“so? what’s the hint?” hermione asked, coming over to your bed.

“he’s a ginger. it’s ronald.”

“how do you know that though? there could be more than one ginger in our year and house!” hermione reminded.

“who else could it be then?” y/n queried.

…

…

…

“exactly what i thought.” y/n smirked in victory.

“well? are you gonna say yes?” hermione asked, getting more and more excited.

“yeah, yeah i will.”

as the days passed, the hints became more and more obvious, confirming it was infact ronald weasley.

and the fact that seamus, for the life of him can’t keep his mouth shut, even if he means no harm.

it was time for the yule ball.

it was time to meet ron.

you adjust your dress one last time, walking into the ballroom, trying to find your date.

“hi there, you look like a dream.”

you turn, to see ron, in some somewhat questionable dress robes - but still looking very handsome.

“hi, thank you.”

music started playing, and the ginger to the fore of you held out his hand.

“may i have this dance?”

“yes…yes you may.”

the two of you waltzed to the center of the flooring, he bowed, leaving a kiss to your knuckles.

he put his hand on your waist, as you did his shoulder, and you two began to dance along to the music.

“i love you, y’know that?”

“i think i figured out that much, captain obvious, i love you too.”

if there’s anything offensive and/or inaccurate feel free to let me know!~

reblogs and likes are appreciated!! <3

hermy,

signing off <3