#let's all pretend the new hair shows the passage of time

[smulie]

new babies, new hair

[serial-serializednovelreader]

What do you think about Mina so far?

Well, anon, hehe, I have already read Dracula before (and I will say Mina is in my top three favorite characters — I LOVE HER), *but* let’s pretend I haven’t read it and I‘ll catalogue the traits I’ve noticed about her from the entries we have so far…

From the first letter, I picked up on the fact that she’s hardworking, cares about her fiancé and friend, and has a bit of a silly streak.

“I have been working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan's studies, and I have been practising shorthand very assiduously. When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I am practising very hard.”

“When I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I don't mean one of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write in whenever I feel inclined.”

“Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man???”

I can also see her care for Jonathan from his own perspective on the May 5th entry. This passage shows how she is making him more confident in himself.

“Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!”

The next passage from Mina shows me her more carefree and extroverted side. I get to see how she is as a journalist, describing the world around her and how she sees it. From what I can see, she sees the world through an unconventional lens — what others see as creepy, she sees as beautiful.

“The valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to see down. The houses of the old town—the side away from us—are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow, like the pictures we see of Nuremberg. Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up in the wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows.”

“Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea.”

“They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea. I must ask the old man about this; he is coming this way....”

“I thought he would be a good person to learn interesting things from, so I asked him if he would mind telling me something about the whale-fishing in the old days.”

Then, July 26 happens and Mina opens up in a new way. She is anxious, yes, but everyone gets that way from time to time. What I really get from this is how good of a friend she is to Lucy, sympathizing with her worries about Arthur and planning for a marriage, not to mention the sleepwalking. She also has some kind words about Mr. Hawkins.

“I had not heard from Jonathan for some time, and was very concerned; but yesterday dear Mr. Hawkins, who is always so kind, sent me a letter from him.”

“Then, too, Lucy, although she is so well, has lately taken to her old habit of walking in her sleep. Her mother has spoken to me about it, and we have decided that I am to lock the door of our room every night.”

“Lucy is to be married in the autumn, and she is already planning out her dresses and how her house is to be arranged. I sympathise with her, for I do the same, only Jonathan and I will start in life in a very simple way, and shall have to try to make both ends meet.”

“Mr. Holmwood—he is the Hon. Arthur Holmwood, only son of Lord Godalming—is coming up here very shortly—as soon as he can leave town, for his father is not very well, and I think dear Lucy is counting the moments till he comes.”

There’s even more evidence of this in the next entry! She’s selfless in her concerns about Lucy’s health

“Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I am awakened by her moving about the room. Fortunately, the weather is so hot that she cannot get cold; but still the anxiety and the perpetually being wakened is beginning to tell on me, and I am getting nervous and wakeful myself. Thank God, Lucy's health keeps up.”

“Lucy frets at the postponement of seeing him, but it does not touch her looks; she is a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are a lovely rose-pink. She has lost that anæmic look which she had. I pray it will all last.”

So, if I’m judging all of this from the perspective of a first-time reader, so far she is a multi-faceted character. I have gotten to see her carefree and fun side, as well as her compassionate and anxious side. She’s well-rounded and hardworking. She’s selfless and bold.

There are more entries I could reference, but I believe they all come to the same conclusions I’ve made.

In conclusion…I love her!!! <3333 thanks for asking, anon :))))

[mixelation]

wrote some reborn au. takes place after the tori v itachi fight

i decided iwa has a bunch of tunnels connecting everything !!

--

The little makeshift clinic set up in the holding wing of the stadium was quiet. Tori sat patiently on a cot while one medic wordlessly spread healing chakra over the burn on her shoulder; the other medic was organizing ampules of clear liquid at table, the glass gently clinking together. 

Across from her, the poor fifteen year old who’d drawn Deidara was unconscious in another cot. Kurotsuchi was nowhere to be seen, probably because Itachi had beat her without harming a hair on her head. The latter was definitely more embarrassing than ending up in a hospital, but personally, Tori would take a blow to the ego over cracked ribs any day. 

Maybe she should have just let Itachi take her out with genjutsu. It wasn’t like she was going to pass, anyway. Then again, even Itachi’s less bad genjutsu were really scary… and she’d wanted to test her new seal…

The quiet of the room was broken by Kushina slamming the door open. 

“Tori you did so good, you know,” she proclaimed, unconscious teenager be damned. A noise like a muffle tea kettle escaped the medic’s throat. “Your taijutsu has improved so much. I’m really proud.”

Proud…? When was the last time anyone had been proud of Tori? She didn’t know what to do with that, and she felt her cheeks go hot against her will.

Kushina didn’t say much out loud about the four-part seal Tori had painted on herself, but she did shoo away the medic so she could help Tori take it off. The medic looked affronted by Kushina’s bossiness, and then scandalized when the seal on her burned shoulder turned out to have four matching ones. 

“You did all that to your genin?” the medic half-squawked. 

Kushina paused, a brush hovering over Tori’s shoulder. 

“Well, she designed it herself,” she said, like that excused it. A grin cracked on her face. “Hey, make sure you get that to the judges, you know. I don’t just hand my students fuinjutsu.”

Only two of the four seals had to be deactivated to break the random fluctuations in chakra, which is all they needed for the next leg of their mission. 

“We should grab some snacks before Itachi and Deidara duke it out,” Kushina said loudly as she led Tori out of the clinic. Both medics voiced annoyed protests. “Oh, come on, she’ll just come back after the show, you know!”

Tori let Kushina take lead. She led her down two flights of stairs, babbling about how there was a ramen stand just a couple blocks away that she was craving. As far as Tori knew, Kushina had not liked that stand and complained in length about Iwa having bad ramen in private, but it was established fact to anyone observing them that Kushina was obsessed with ramen. 

“Sensei, ramen is hardly a snack,” Tori whined as Kushina pretended to look confused as she navigated them through the maze of tunnels under Iwa. 

“Nonsense,” Kushina told her. “You need nutrients after your fight, you know.”

“Sensei, ramen barely has any nutrients. You told me you got scurvy when you were my age from not eating anything else.”

“Um, no, I said I nearly got scurvy from cup ramen. Restaurant ramen is completely different–”

It was easy to fake getting lost under Iwa, deep in the passages anyone could access. The tunnels were creepily empty, and they only passed two other people, an older civilian couple rushing in the direction of the stadium. Almost everyone was currently gathered to watch children try and kill each other.

The hardest part of this mission, they had both assumed, would be the transition to the ninja-only tunnels and then not getting caught in the prison complex. The transportation seal itself should be simple enough to plant. 

They never got that far. They were attacked first. 

The tunnel suddenly rose up in front of them, the stone cobbles flipping and stacking on top of themselves in a complex Earth jutsu. The path in front of them was sealed within seconds. 

“Er,” Kushina said, pausing, but the jutsu was already repeating itself behind them. Iwa-nin after Iwa-nin peeled themselves from the walls, crowing Tori and Kushina. “Hey, what the hell?”

All the ninja were wearing gas masks. This was very, very bad. 

“As an invited guest of the Tsuchikage,” Kushina started, her hair twitching at her side in building anger, “I demand an explanation.”

Tori felt dizzy. She wasn’t sure if this was nerves from their mission taking a sudden nosedive, or whatever thing the Iwa-nin needed gas masks for. 

No color, no odor, able to be filtered, Tori thought, mentally sorting through all the gasses and aerosolized poisons it could be. They’re covering their skin, so it might be absorbed that way even if I hold my breath… 

Had they already been caught, before they’d even gotten close? How?

The masked ninja offered no explanation. They didn’t even move to attack, although each and every one of them was tensed for a fight. 

Tori felt her knees going weak. Somehow all her limbs seemed to be getting weaker. 

“Chakra poisoning…?” Kushina wondered out loud. “Alright, I think it’s fair to call this self-defense.”

Kushina grabbed Tori, pulling her protectively into her chest, and chaos broke out instantaneously. Chains erupted from Kushina back, ensnaring and pinning down ninja in the claustrophobic hallway. Six chains shot right through the walls cutting off the passage. Tori was aware of weapons being thrown or swung at them, clinking loudly off the mass of chains and ricocheting into the narrow tunnel.  

The cobblestone walls rebuilt themselves as quickly as Kushina knocked them down, countering her attempts to vent the space. More ninja crawled out of the walls and ceiling, pushing and crowding them. Sharp blades slipped between the chains more than once, knicking the both of them. 

“Sensei,” Tori started, fingers fumbling for scrolls. “I can–”

“They almost definitely want me, you know,” Kushina huffed, breath heavy. Kushina had a lot of chakra to poison, but even she had limits. “Run.”

A chain wrapped itself around Tori’s waist and then shot her towards one of the cobblestone walls at a terrifying speed. Three more chains broke the wall in front of her, and Tori had to hold up her arms to protect herself from rubble. They she was flying down the open passage they’d walked through earlier, which felt almost cavernous with the sudden lack of other bodies. 

The chakra suddenly evaporated, turning from the most solid thing Tori had ever touched to gold dust. Tori was flung forward, and she only barely managed to get her weak legs under her to land, which turned into a sad, uncontrolled roll directly into a wall. 

Tori was on her feet immediately, running as fast as she could in the opposite direction of Kushina and the mass of Iwa-nin. The cobblestone wall had already prepared itself, and the passageway was eerily quiet. 

No one appeared to be following her. Should she go back? She couldn’t abandon Kushina. 

But what was she going to do, by herself with no plan? It would be smarter to go get Itachi and Deidara’s help. 

She found a staircase up to the surface and sprinted up it. Her chakra was sluggish and unmoldable, and her muscles weren’t quite right because of it. But she got herself up the stairs, and then she forced herself into a false calm as she walked back to the stadium. 

She couldn’t do a henge in this state. She pulled the tie on her braid and brushed her hair over her shoulders to hide her face. She hunched her shoulders and kept her eyes on her feet. I’m a shy little girl, I’m timid and civilian and harmless… 

It wasn’t a good enough disguise to hide her from anyone actively looking. But it would keep anyone else from noticing her, she hoped. The guard at the gate to the stadium certainly barely looked at her. 

The fight between Deidara and Itachi was in full swing, and it was about as loud as she’d expected. When she entered the stands, most people were standing, screaming in excitement. In a better mood, Tori would have contemplated that whatever bad blood ws between their villages, Iwa’s citizens still enjoyed seeing two top-tier ninja beat the shit out of each other as much as the next village. 

Itachi and Deidara’s role was to draw this fight out as long as possible, and draw it out they did. There were too many ninja in the audience and crawling around the stadium for Tori to even think about signaling for them to wrap it up. Instead, she sat there in silence, forcing her hands to not knot themselves in her shirt in anxiety. 

She needed to calm down. She couldn’t do anything if she didn’t keep her head on straight. Why was she getting so bent out of shape, anyway? Either Kushina was already dead, or they would hold her hostage. There was no point in letting herself get bent out of shape until after the crisis was over. Tori had thought herself accomplished at the ancient shinobi art of stomping down panic. 

She said she was proud of me, Tori thought over and over.

[daydreaming-jessi]

I have returned for but a moment. Now back to the mist I go.

“Be-ej!”

Beetlejuice felt over a hundred pounds hop onto his back, causing his spine to make a disgusting pop, fully disrupting his pretend nap (Though it was really just an excuse to be splayed fully out in the hallway and be in the way of any attempted passerby.) He balefully cracked his eyes open and rolled them through his eye sockets until they peeked out through the back of his head to glare at Lydia, who was currently standing on him. For some reason she was holding a broomstick in hand.

“Whaddya want, pipsqueak?” He asked, blinking away the hair jabbing at his unprotected eyeballs.

“It’s Halloween.” Lydia looked down at him with her typical cat-that-got-the-canary look she got whenever she came up with a particularly devious scheme.

“Yes? I am aware of the passage of time thanks to you breathers’ weird attachment to clocks.” He gestured to the tacky Art Deco clock hung up on the wall ticking away endlessly next to them. Delia had bought it, thanks to his goading, at an art expos she dragged him to as some sort of bonding experience. To his delight, the Maitlands did their damndest to politely pretend they didn’t detest it every time they walked by it.

Lydia continued on pointedly, regaining his attention. “Since it’s Halloween, that means it’s time to put on our costumes. That includes you!”

Beetlejuice sat up, finally making her hop off. He raised an eyebrow at her general vicinity while his eyes popped back into place, his vision taking a moment to reorient itself. “I thought all holidays were overblown scams by puritan capitalist overlords that only you ennui maddened teenagers saw through, and thus refused to participate in on principle.”

“Well yeah, most of them, and Halloween doesn’t exactly escape the exploits of the vultures that make up the one percent, but how often do we get to appreciate Halloween on the hunter’s moon? Capitalistic doctrine can rip this day from my cold, dead, heretic hands, I’m allowed to have fun for one night.” This seemed to be one of those sticking points Lydia would follow through on, so Beetlejuice let it go.

“Fair enough, but I gotta point out that you’re not exactly gonna stand out at any college witch coven party.” He flicked one of her sleeves pointedly. She wore a simple, dark navy dress, nothing special about it. Truly the only new addition was the red bow tying back her raven black hair from her face and the simple, dull pink flats instead of her heavy, buckle laden, face stomping boots.

Lydia pulled the skirt of her dress up and shook it emphatically, scowling. “Come on, Beej, I’m Kiki! From that movie I showed you yesterday, genius.”

“Looks the same as every other outfit you wear.” He yawned. His glee continued to grow as Lydia’s glare deepened. It was always fun when he managed to rile her up a bit for once.

“Since when do I wear giant red bows in my hair and carry around pink bags?” She tugged on said bow while holding out the strap of said bag. Before he could come up with some elaborate lie, she shook her head with an annoyed click of her tongue. “Never mind, that’s not the point. What this whole thing was leading up to was that I wanna know if you wanna help me complete my costume, making your own in the process.”

“Your vagueness is starting to make me suspicious. What are you suggesting, Scarecrow?” Beetlejuice asked, his eyes narrowing warily.

She gestured sweetly with her broom. “I’m suggesting you play the part of my faithful witch companion, Jiji.”

Beetlejuice’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “Aw hell yeah! I’ll finally get to be what I eat!”

“If you keep talking, I will stab you again.”

“Pus-“

“Don’t.”

Beetlejuice‘s grin turned serious as he pointed at Lydia emphatically. “What’s in it for me though? This seems to be unfairly in your favor.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Seriously? Is the idea of hanging out all night in graveyards, scaring the shit out of drunk party goers and trick-or-treaters, being ���bfffffffs’ really not good enough for you?” She put on a weak grin that pretty quickly dropped at Beetlejuice’s unimpressed stare.

But then he clapped his hands and did a fist pump. “Aw yeah!! The bio exorcist besties are gonna paint the town red tonight!”

Huh, guess she wouldn’t have to dip into her stash of embarrassing bribery photos tonight.

He snapped up to his feet, twisting his spine into shape with another loud crunch. At this rate, one would expect to see his head start glowing. “Alright, so I’ll do it, ‘cause it does sound like an interesting way to fuck around with people, but I’m gonna put my own spin on this. No whining about screen inaccuracies.”

She rolled her eyes, hiding a smile. “I’ll have an actual talking cat, I think I’ll have most people beat on accuracy.”

He grinned before poofing into a cloud of glittery stage smoke, leaving a healthy helping behind in the carpet. When the cloud dissipated, it revealed a black and white striped cat with a messy, barely groomed tail.

Lydia could hardly believe her eyes. “Oh my god, you're actually a cat!”

Beetlejuice inspected his form, making sure there weren’t any stray eyeballs or extra organs lurking in his fur coat. It’d been a while since he’d gone for something this mundane.

“Huh, not bad! Even I impress myself sometimes. Now then, I think it’s time we enjoy this Hallow’s Eve to the fullest. How ‘bout you, Scarecrow?” He asked, hopping onto Lydia’s shoulders. She tried not to cringe at the acrid stench of smoke that still clung to his fur.

“Oh yeah, definitely wanna get out of here before Dad tries to take a billion pictures,” she agreed before starting for the staircase.

However, Beetlejuice hopped onto the banister to stop her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you think you’re doing walking on your feet?”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Do I actually have to answer that?”

“You’ve got a broom, girl! Use it!” He jabbed a paw in its direction.

“...Beej do I need to remind you how brooms work in the real world?”

“I’m aware of gravity. But I’m also aware that gravity for the paranormal is more… optional than it is for breathers.”

Despite herself, Lydia was curious of what he could be suggesting. “If this is some kind of prank, I will endlessly torment you anytime you try and nap again,” she said warningly.

“Yeah, yeah, get on the broom now!”

Lydia eyed him, before turning and wisely opening the window next to them, and safely popping the screen out and setting it to the side.

“You break one window one time, and suddenly no one trusts you ever,” Beetlejuice muttered as he hopped onto the broom with Lydia.

It jolted under her hands, sending a strange tingle up her fingers, and suddenly Lydia felt a strange sensation, and realized it was the feeling of her feet, her entire body in fact, leaving the ground. “Oh my god?”

Beetlejuice shot her a wide grin the Cheshire Cat would be proud of. “Alright, kid, enough gawking. Take it away!”

Lydia grinned as she tightened her grip on the broomstick, and urged it forward.

In a flash, they zipped out the window unscathed into the night sky. The cold air whistled around them, whipping Lydia’s hair around in a frenzy and numbing her fingers and nose. But none of that could wipe away her beaming grin, nothing could dampen the exhilarating sense of giddy bubbling up through her chest.

She whooped as they zipped through the air, Beetlejuice joining in with his own yeehaw as he dug his claws into her bag. Man, that Jiji guy made it seem a lot easier in the movie…

[snapshotofthesun]

your own voyeur

The body’s age is nineteen, but the mind is split into three.

There is a seven-year-old girl inside her, and she is screaming love me love me love me until her voice is hoarse and her eyes are full of bitter tears. She has scruffy blonde hair and wears her brothers’ hand-me-downs as she warms the bench at half time. Suspended, trapped in time and space, forever stuck sitting on the curb of the parking lot after her mother forgot her between the bread and cereal aisles. Love me love me love me until I am enough.

There is a fourteen-year-old banging against her cerebral cortex who scoffs and rolls her eyes and steals her mother’s cigarettes, who kisses men with tobacco-stained teeth and pretends she likes the way their hands clasp the small of her back. She’s irreparably tarnished, broken in seven places. Her teachers shake their heads and call her a case of wasted potential as she sips cheap vodka from a plastic water bottle and tilts back on her chair until her head spins. In three months when she discovers the concept of a manic pixie dream girl, she will internalise the performance of chaotic femininity until she loses all trace of the girl she once was.

And hidden deep within her psyche is a spinster with shocking grey hair who recites the passage of Margaret Atwood she learned one day in high school that she will never forget: “Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies…?” She peels pomegranates and clementines, letting the juice stain her cuticles, and watches the dust dance in the warm afternoon sunlight. She will be lonely for the rest of her life.

The body sits on a couch at the back of the party, listening to the thudding heartbeat of bass and sipping on a concoction that burns like bile in the back of her throat. Cinnamon whisky. Apple juice. Black leather and cigarettes. She’s out of cigarettes. The craving is an itch in the back of her skull.

Her friends have introduced her to a man she’s never met before, one that looks at her hungrily and won’t stop pouring her fiery drinks. The room spins in slow, hazy circles. He asks her if she has any tattoos, and when she removes her jacket to show him the inkblot on the back of her arm, his fingertips trace the skin as if he can feel the pain of the needles inside her. In another lifetime the softness of that touch would send sparks across her skin. But the fourteen-year-old inside her burnt away every nerve, every sense, every feeling in the recesses of her dark bedroom one night. Untouchable.

He's watching her; she’s watching him watching her. Life in the third person – life at arm’s length – has a strange appeal.

You are your own voyeur, says the spinster.

Love me love me love me, says the child.

“I’m out of cigarettes”, says the body, downing her drink until the unwanted voices recede. Within seconds there’s one between her fingers, one clamped between his teeth.

There’s a section of blankness, of dark, terrifying, stumbling haze, then she’s leaned on his shoulder with a lit cigarette in one hand and a brand new drink in the other. There is brief, unintentional eye contact; she is terrified and slightly amazed by the intensity of his stare, the way he cannot tear his eyes away from the curve of her jawline, the wildness of her eyes, the strip of exposed skin between her shirt and jeans.

I bet he wants me, says the fourteen-year-old.

The body isn’t quite sure what she wants.

I bet he needs me, says the fourteen-year-old.

And then his lips are on hers and her drink smashes against the cold stone floor and the child is screaming at her, pounding against the walls of her brain in fear, because his kiss burns like motor oil and his hands grip her like he’ll never let her go. The child knows that her churning stomach is fear, not butterflies, and that this potent, base desire is nothing like love, nothing like the love she craves so deeply. But the child is small, and the child is weak, so when the fourteen-year-old forces her into a headlock and begins stubbing out butts on her skin, there is nothing she can do but howl like a caged animal.

His hands find the warmth underneath her jacket; she exhales a cloud of fog into the icy night air. There is a shock of coldness in his touch that releases her from this strange delusion.

You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman.

He pushes her backwards – a fit of passion – and her head hits the wall behind her.

You are your own voyeur.

There is pomegranate juice dripping from the spinster’s mouth. The fourteen-year-old, stunned into submission, drops the child in a crying heap. The body pulls from his grasp and stumbles through the crowd.

She finds the bathroom. The walls vibrate with the thud of the music, like a living entity. There are tears in her eyes. She could watch herself cry, watch the emotion sink and splash and bend across her face, watch it furrow her brow and tighten her jaw and admire the way her mascara stains her cheeks. But she’s tired: the child is tired, the fourteen-year-old is tired, the spinster is tired, the body is tired. Tired, and so, so lonely.

Love me love me love me love me.

She stares into the mirror, searching for a sign of life, but the body does not recognise itself.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Nostalgia Masterlist

Always In Spring (ao3) - loveliketheweather luke/calum, background michael/ashton M, 17k

Summary: Luke and Calum’s friendship has gone through many highs and lows, and it’s so full of parallels and full-circle moments that it’s almost like the universe is set to make sure they grow, love and stay together.

can we stay all day? (lay low in our lazy luxury) (ao3) - orphan_account luke/calum N/R, 2k

Summary: Calum’s body is moving softly with the pattern of his breathing, the mop of curly brown hair illuminated by the light. It used to bother Luke just how smitten he is for the boy, but he’s come to terms with it, so he lets himself smile at the view.

detours and déjà vu (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum E, 34k

Summary: “Yeah, you can come along,” Calum says, smiling while he rocks the porch swing with his toes. “I could use a co-pilot.” After all the time he spent reminiscing on his bedroom floor, it feels like in a strange way he misses Luke.

Or actually, it’s not really Luke he misses, it’s being young and carefree, just happy, with no caveats.

But still, Calum craves the reconnection, curious to see if the Luke that’s next to him now can still make him feel even a taste of what seven-year-old summer Calum felt.

extra credit (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum E, 21k

Summary: Calum smiles at the last person in line at the bar as he hands them their glass of wine, then turns to Luke and sighs heavily, crossing his arms over his chest. The material of his shirt wrinkles and folds and stretches in all the right ways. “From the first day of school after I moved here, I knew you were going to be a problem.”

“A problem?” Luke feigns offense, scoffing and sucking violently at his tiny straw, trying to get to the dredges of his drink. Calum rolls his eyes and starts making another. By the end of the night, Luke’s going to have the process of Calum assembling a California Dream emblazoned in his mind for eternity. “I wasn’t the one who showed up and immediately acted like I owned the place.”

feels like this could be forever right now (ao3) - bellawritess luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 2k

Summary: If time was ever going to freeze, Luke thinks to himself, he’d want it to freeze right now, in this moment. If it were up to him to stop all the clocks and pretend that the passage of time was a myth, he’d do it in a heartbeat; if he could pick one night to last forever, he’d pick this one.

Forever (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke G, 2k

Summary: Luke's back in Australia for a minute and he drives around his old town and by Michael's old house and stops by.

fourth of july (every song's about you) (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum T, 3k

Summary: For some reason, the idea that Calum thinks about Luke at all is a small shock. He thinks about Calum a lot, probably too much. He thought he’d go off to college and meet all these amazing people, new romantic prospects that would sweep him off his feet and make Calum seem boring by comparison. But all that happened was Luke met a lot of people, and none of them were as perfectly imperfect as Calum.

Growing Up (ao3) - HeyHeyArnold michael/calum G, 1k

Summary: Michael takes a trip down memory lane, reminiscing on the life he and Calum have created together. The reminders of their sweetest moments help to calm his nerves before he plans to pop the question on their date later that night.

Let's freefall, and see where we land. (ao3) - orphan_account michael/calum G, 1k

Summary: They are in a break and Michael loves Sydney, and sunsets at the beach, and Calum.

maybe there's no point in holding onto something closely (ao3) - hideforalifetime michael/luke G, 2k

Summary: He’s run this moment over and over in his head. Every day for four years, Luke’s imagined every possible scenario which would result in a face-to-face with Michael Clifford. His ex-boyfriend, ex-best friend Michael Clifford with the huge square-framed black glasses sliding down onto his round little nose, blonde fringe falling over his green eyes, and the dark bands tattooed on his forearms that Luke liked to trace as Michael glared at a textbook with smoldering intensity. Now here he is, shitting his pants at the prospect of seeing the man again, all while in a restaurant’s clammy, damp, tiny bathroom.

oh nostalgia (be your own spotlight) (ao3) - nightskeletons calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 142k

Summary: Born and raised New Yorker Calum Hood is temporarily reassigned to a job site in the middle of nowhere New Jersey for six months. After accepting his fate of being miserable the entire time, he ends up meeting a group of three boys who quickly become some of his closet friends and help him to see all the things he's been missing by never leaving his own backyard.

Cue a playlist of early-2000s emo music, unexpected farm animals, summer nights under the stars, discovering who you are, falling in love, and a whole lotta nostalgia.

only memories, fading memories (ao3) - lifewasradical michael/calum T, 2k

Summary: “Hello?” he says into the microphone, extending his legs out in front of him, making tiny dust angels from the thickness on the hardwood.

“Mike? Where are you?”

“Broke into the old apartment,” he answers softly, eyes shutting as he basks in the golden rays.

Red Desert (ao3) - jenlouniverse G, 1k

Summary: First song from CALM: Red Desert. A quest to know oneself a little better and trying to leave the past behind.

with open hearts and open eyes (ao3) - lifewasradical T, 2k

Summary: If he closes his eyes, Luke thinks he can almost believe that he’s 16 again, that they’re in Australia and they’re just starting out, thrumming with energy and excitement and glee that still lingers in their bones if they look hard enough. Some of that childlike wonder bleeds through the moment, Luke’s sure of it, as the others all turn onto their stomachs too. Their outlines are barely able to be seen through the darkness, but Luke would know the contours of the other guys even if he went blind.

you were all i wanted, but not like this. (ao3) - luke_is_a_penguin_otter michael/luke M, 1k

Summary: Luke is trying to let it go and move foward, but past keeps coming back. Sort of.

[tim-shii]

a/n: omg bf dan heng headcanons? *blushes* not beta nor this is canon compliant i apologize if this is ooc aaa this is my first time writing for hsr ><

bf!dan heng who stares you down after you kick his leg under the table in hopes of getting his attention.

bf!dan heng who reads the same book you're reading over your shoulders and reaches out to keep you from turning the page yet because he's not done reading the passage.

bf!dan heng who catches your eyes from across the room and he lets them wrinkle slighty to show how happy he is to see you or be in the same place as you.

bf!dan heng who pulls you closer and keeps your hands warm in his pockets when you guys walk in the snow.

bf!dan heng whose focus stay on you and only you everytime you're talking, even tuning out the rest of his surrounding.

bf!dan heng who holds your hand hidden from others, either under the table or behind march's back.

bf!dan heng who asked march 7th how to ask you out and eventually disregards her suggestion because there is no way he's asking you out with a guitar in his hand and flowers around his head.

bf!dan heng who send you random 'hello' messages and doesn't respond when you reply but rings your phone instead.

bf!dan heng who holds back your hair when you guys are out eating ice cream on a windy day.

bf!dan heng who gives you a long hug inside the comfort of his room and away from the gazes of others because he wants you to be the only one seeing him vulnerable.

bf!dan heng who lets you hold onto his clothing or hooks his pinky with yours when exploring a new city.

bf!dan heng who pretends he doesn't know you take selfies with his phone when really he has all photos on his favorites folder.

bf!dan heng who read the entirety of your favorite book in one night just so he can talk to you about something the next day.

bf!dan heng who still has the bracelet you gave him four years ago and admits he hasn't taken it off since.

bf!dan heng who kisses your forehead each time you guys have to be apart.

bf!dan heng who smirks internally when you catch him staring at you and you got flustered, the blood rushing all the way to your ears as you turn away to avoid his gaze.

bf!dan heng who picks up your every call, doesn't matter if it's 3 in the morning or late in the afternoon.

bf!dan heng who cleans your glasses for you and even pushes it up your nose with his finger when he sees it starting to slide off.

bf!dan heng who tolerates every nickname you give him. the same deadpan expression every time you call him baby or pookie.

bf!dan heng who bribes march 7th behind your back for her to send him the pictures of you together not knowing march 7th tells you everything.

bf!dan heng who has a playlist full of your favorite songs that he made the first year of you guys dating.

bf!dan heng who lets you tease him about his plain black boring phone case but he'll never let you know that he has a photograph of you in it.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[scvrllet]

Oh hi darling! Can you do headcanons of Edmund taking his gf to Narnia with him the second time he goes please??

contains: gender-neutral!reader (996 words)

authors note: idk how i feel about this for multiple reasons but enjoy?!

- For this headcanons sake, let’s pretend (Y/N) and Eustace are siblings and the Pevensies are very close friends with your family, not cousins.

- The two of you rarely got along though you often tried your best to have some sort of a positive bond with him. You lived in your own imagination most of the time, believing in what he called “silly children stories”. Your brother on the other hand turned out to be quite the different so when your boyfriend, Edmund, and his sister Lucy came to stay over for a while, Eustace was anything but happy.

- Despite the differences in your hobbies and likes, the two of you did manage to bond over science. It was an odd thing for siblings to agree and bond over but the two of you managed to make it work. Your fascination for how things worked and why that was mixed with his extensive knowledge which gave you those answers was enough for both of you. Though, this didn't completely make things perfect between the two of you. The times you spent fighting and at each-others throats always outweighed the times you were able to be civil with each-other and with Edmund and Lucy being much like you, your brother only felt like he was trapped in his own home the longer they were around.

- Prior to this, you and Edmund had been dating for a while already. Meeting a few years after his siblings return from Narnia, the two of you quickly connected and became close friends before you both realized your feelings for each-other and began dating. Lucy often said how she believed she would be 80 and wrinkly before you two finally confessed your feelings for each-other.

- Edmund and his siblings had told you of all their adventures in Narnia multiple times and regardless of it eventually becoming repetitive, you still loved hearing about it. About all the wars Peter's fought in and the array of weapons and armor, about the libraries and beautiful sceneries Narnia (especially Cair Paravel) Susan spent most of her at/admiring, about all the secret passages and hideouts Edmund wished he could show you for yourself and about all the different creatures and animals Lucy swore you would love. It all sounded like something straight from your imagination and while the thought of it all being real was slightly hard to believe, you still found yourself taking their word for it.

- This proved to be worth it as that one day when the painting in the spare bedroom of your home began to come alive and fill with water, there was only one reasonable answer: magic. And once the four of you had resurfaced and were now out in the middle of an ocean who knows where, it only further proved your point.

- A group of men on the ship that was once in the painting (or were you now in the painting?) jumped down to bring you all up, you felt as though you were dreaming. You really hoped you weren’t.

“And who are the new guests?” The leader, you assumed, of the men on the ship asked as he handed you all towels. He was taller than the four of you, slim with dark shoulder length hair framing his face with a beard as well.

“Caspian, this is (Y/N), my partner. (Y/N), Caspian. And this is their brother Eustace-” Edmund replied and as he went to direct the man's gaze to your brother, Eustace instead decided to show himself on his own terms. And by that, he was screaming on the ground as an oddly large mouse laid on his chest. There was a group of men surrounding them, not doing anything but laughing and talking amongst themselves. It didn’t take long before he ended up kicking the mouse off of him and in your direction.

“Reepicheep!” Lucy said and the mouse, who you now knew could talk and went by Reepicheep, beamed at the sight of her and Edmund.

“Hey Reep, what a pleasure.” Edmund greeted and you watched in awe as it fixed its harness and bowed.

“Your majesties. The pleasure is all mine sir, but first, what to do about this hysterical interloper.” It said and you almost found it hard to stifle your laughter.

“That would be my brother.” You replied and as if you had appeared out of nowhere, which you probably did in all honesty, Reepicheep jumped.

“Your Majesties didn’t mention bringing guests, my apologies for informalities, I am Reepicheep.”

“(Y/N).”

- With introductions out of the way, it didn’t take long before you (and Eustace, much to his displeasure) were caught up with everything regarding Narnia and where they were heading today. Throughout the trip, while your brother somehow managed to always find his way into the heart of trouble, Edmund made sure to make the time enjoyable for you despite the chaos.

- The Cair Paravel, while now gone, still managed to be breathtaking in its ruins. There weren’t any passages to explore, or any weapons to admire, or any libraries to wander through or even any animals to meet but still, it stood there in its ruined glory and all you could seem to do was stand and admire it.

- Following the Pevensies and Caspian’s crew on their journey, you were able to fit in with the others quite easily. Your brother on the other hand, struggled and had to be turned into a dragon and back before acting more nurtured. He was also able to befriend Reepicheep and the other crewmen who came to enjoy his presence and friendship.

- By the end of your time in Narnia, having fought mythical creatures and experienced magic right before your very eyes, you and Eustace were relieved to hear that you would both be able to return to Narnia. Not at the given time maybe, but one day. Hopefully.

FIN.

taglist | masterlist

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[oftenderweapons]

Steamy Waters — Jungkook

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 7.7k 

Genre: smut, pwp; initial fluff, but don’t let that fool you; established relationship;  idol!AU

Rating: 18+

Hello my fluffy ducklings, welcome to Jeongguk’s Steamy Waters 😈

I won’t even pretend there’s a plot in this. It’s just Jk, coming home from the gym and finding excuses to shower with his gf. Set almost a month after Love Talk, Jeongguk is finally ready to take a big step in his relationship with Candy, however finding the courage for the big leap is excruciating. Candy is more than willing to reward him before asking for something in return, she simply doesn’t know how much her game will cost her. 

I decided I’ll keep using the nickname the nickname “Guk”, (see more in this post). Now, straight on to...

TRIGGER WARNINGS: unprotected sex within an established relationship (don’t do that unless YOU’RE TESTED AND CLEAN), mentions of therapy and mental health; sweaty jock!Jungkook, smitten!Jungkook who can’t express his emotions but IS WORKING ON IT, with a very supportive gf; I guess there’s a striptease, if you like... squint?; masturbation (female and male receiving); breast worship; period talk; very intimate love confession; foreplay under the shower (specifically mutual oral sex — aka 69 — while laying on the floor); predator/prey dynamics (namely she runs and he chases her, finds her as she tries to hide, drags her out and throws her over his shoulder); plenty of lube (lube is important and useful, let’s normalise using it); lots of degradation and objectification, name calling (fuckdoll, slut, cocksleeve, cockfairy), very multiple orgasms — like a lot; edging (both male and female receiving), begging, crying, slight humiliation. These two know all the possible variations to missionary sex (sorry not sorry); biting; slightest, most delicate face slapping and grabbing; spanking; tattoo fetish; cumplay, mentions of cum eating. 

[Inspired by this look]

Here is my masterlist and check out my non-idols!AU (Partition update coming on Sat, Jan 23rd!!!) 

Remember to vote for next prompt (link in bio)!

And now, enjoy ✨💜

————————————

The entry door smashed loudly sometime around ten p.m., followed by the thud of a bag falling to the floor, Jeongguk’s heavy steps stopping as he took of his shoes.

The moment he appeared he looked unreal, with an oversized black shirt reaching his mid thigh, the sleeves exposing his forearms and part of his tattoos, his hair falling messily in wet curls over his forehead.

“Candy, babe?” He called from the entry. “I’m home!”

“Guk?” You called from the kitchen, your head peeking around the corner. He spotted you and smiled.

“What you doing there?” He said with a smile, sauntering towards you, standing at your side and placing a hand around your waist as you stood by the stove.

You turned and stood on your tiptoes, puckering your lips and closing your eyes.

He bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry I’m messy.” He said, close to your mouth.

“Are you fresh out of the gym?” You asked.

He nodded. “I haven’t even showered yet. I wanted to come home as soon as possible.” His fingers rubbed your side gently, trying not to tickle you. “I missed you a lot today.”

You smiled as you finished warming up his favourite post-workout snack. “I’ve already eaten. I thought you might be hungry.” You said, just as he stole the ladle and took a sip.

“Yum!” He commented, placing the utensil back in your hand. He stood behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I wanna hug you but I’m too sweaty.” He commented as he kneeled the tense muscles of your neck.

You shook your head. “Oh, these need to be washed,” you said, referring to your outfit. “We went to a bulgogi place today and I feel like I smell so bad.”

“You haven’t showered yet?” He asked, his hands slowing down, almost stopping.

“No… I switched on the tv and there was this interesting old interview with Miyazaki and I got caught up.” You explained with a cheery tone.

“The Japanese director and artist?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, switching off the stove and pouring a couple ladles of noodles and broth in a bowl, adding some basic decorations on top.

He paused before wrapping an arm around your waist. “Can I hug you then?” He asked gently, almost too quietly for you to hear.

Still, there was no way you wouldn’t hear his voice. Sometimes you thought you could hear his very thoughts.

“Of course you can hug me, Guk.”

His body adhered to yours without hesitation, a low moan exiting his throat as he felt you sink even deeper into him, pressing into his body, almost trying to hide into him.

“I said I missed you.” He said shyly, waiting for you to praise him as he opened up about his emotions.

You were working through it, together, trying to make him open up more, offer you more of himself, of his feelings and fears.

“I missed you too, baby. I love you.” You spoke against his chest, taking in the clean and humid scent of his skin. He always smelled so good even after working out. Especially after working out.

Your hormones did a somersault.

“Today I felt very… restless.”

That was a very specific word for his emotional vocabulary. Lately, he was getting better and better, finding new words that fit his moods appropriately. His way of speaking was always plain, in the best meaning of the term. He is simple and transparent, always using basic words with great meaning. That seemed to be his style, pure and direct, honest.

However, he was growing a lot, even emotionally. He was slowly losing the adjective “young” that people normally put before the word “man” when trying to describe him.

He is a man. And an excellent one at that. Sure, a bit naive sometimes, and still shy, but he always showed a caring, attentive side whenever you tried to speak your needs and grievances within your relationship.

“Mh… What made you feel restless today?” You asked, repeating an exercise that your psychologist always made you do when you were a teen.

“We practiced a choreo all morning. And we always messed up the same part. There’s a very difficult transition and it’s just… so difficult to end up in the right position after the passage.” He said, huffing out loudly.

You thought about his food getting cold, still you knew that if you made him eat the conversation would quite surely stop. “Anything else, baby?” You asked, kissing his breastbone.

“We had a couple interviews this afternoon. One with a radio and another one with a talk show.” He said. “I’m glad that my English is improving. Namjoon hyung said he’s proud of me and that I did a good job.”

You heard the smile in his voice.

“Even Yoongi hyung said I did a good job. And he offered me a tangerine!” He said enthusiastically.

You rubbed his back. “We’re all proud of you, baby.” You said fondly.

“Thank you.” He replied and when you looked up at his face you saw his ears flush red.

“Time to eat, Koo.” You said, pressing your hands to the sides of his head, trying to calm down the blush.

He smiled.

He looked beautiful.

On your tiptoes, you kissed the mole under his lip, shortly before he picked you up by the waist and brought you at his eye level, your arms anchoring behind his neck as he pushed his mouth to yours. “Thank you.” He said again, that feeling in his chest getting more and more urgent.

He would say it. Just… Not now.

He had plans.

He took the bowl and a spoon in his hand, the other one staying around your back, pulling you to the table with him. First he placed down the objects and then he sat, still holding your hand, tugging at it gently and making you sit across his lap.

You giggled and adjusted yourself, your forearm moving behind him and securing you to his back.

He pecked your temple and thanked for the food quickly before digging in, slurping loudly and devouring the whole meal in eager, large spoonfuls.

“No one’s stealing your food, baby, don’t eat too fast.” You said, worried as he paused for a moment, only to take a few breaths and dig in again, finishing the bowl.

He placed down the spoon and rubbed his belly, exhaling with a satisfied grin.

You smirked. “Would you like some more?”

He shook his head no. “I wanna shower.” He said, placing the spoon in the bowl and handing both to you; but before you could protest, thinking he was asking you to tidy up, he moved one arm under your knees, the other around your shoulders, picking you up bridal style.

“Guk, for goodness’ sake!” You shrieked, trying to secure yourself with one arm, the other holding the bow.

“Trust me,” He said, “I’ve got you.” He reassured you, stopping in front of the sink and helping you place the bowl down. Next, he made you sit on the counter, “I need both hands free for this,” he said, picking up the pot and covering it with its lid before placing it back inside the fridge.

He would deal with that later.

“Come here,” he called, standing between your legs and picking you up again, his hands pressed to the back of your thighs. You pushed your nose against the soft hair of his nape. “Where are we going?” You asked, curious.

“Shower.” He said, reaching the room and placing you down near the sink in the dim light coming in from the window. He looked at the saffron gleam of the streetlights landing on the floor, cutting a thin, long stripe landing at your feet.

He took a step forward and stood in it, his black shirt immediately absorbing the light with a curious pattern of shadows that seemed to offer small outlines of the taut, solid muscles underneath.

Jeongguk stood there, fascinated with the way you looked at him, almost ready to hide his face in his hands before you traced the line of his collarbone, then up his throat, until you reached the deep darkness enshrouding his mouth.

“Would you take off your shirt?” You asked, cupping his jaw.

He nodded. “In a second.” He said, staring some more.

He would have never believed he looked at you the same way you looked at him, weren’t it for the picture that had become his new desktop wallpaper a few hours ago. Jin had sent him a picture of the night Jungkook had introduced you to the boys, a week after the two of you had reunited. In the picture, you were talking with Jimin and Taehyung, the older leaning into you as he laughed hysterically while the younger looked at you like you had hung the very stars in the sky. Sitting on the sofa, you glanced up at Jeongguk as he stood behind you with his hands on your shoulders, a large grin on his face and the warmest feeling glittering in his eyes, his ears bright as your own lips opened up in a soft smile.

And now he stood in front of you and you were gorgeous. And he felt so in love.

So desperate to touch you.

But you looked like a vision, a mirage ready to disappear like his unsteady feelings; like that ugly, lying voice could come up any moment and make his doubt you and himself, making him believe that he was incapable of understanding true love, that he had been fooled once and it was sweet like this at the beginning until all there was left was barren land and bitter dust.

He took off his shirt. You moved away the hand on his face before you got tangled up, giving him space until his naked torso was right in front of you.

“You’ve been getting skinnier.” You said, placing your hands on his pectorals. “You’ve lost weight?” You asked, cupping his face again.

“It’s why I’m exercising. It was hard to keep a routine while I was gone.” He explained, placing his hands around your wrists and pushing them down. “Am I not strong enough? Fit enough?” He asked once your hands were resting on his pectorals.

Your thumbs circled his nipples, making them harden immediately. “No, baby.” You argued, a bit disappointed. “I’m saying I wouldn’t mind if you slowed down with the gym and ate a tiny bit more.” You replied. “I love you. I don’t care about your looks, but you’re all bones and muscles. I don’t mind the flesh.” You said, pinching his belly and finding only skin between your fingers. “I’m saying I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself.” You explained before your hands travelled to the ribbon of his sweats.

“You want me to put on some weight?” He asked, incredulous.

“I just want you to be healthy and eat enough food to match your workouts, and do anything you want with your body without feeling pressured. True Army will love you with or without abs.” You raked your nails across his taut abdomen. “And I don’t care as long as I get to touch you like this. Or kiss you here.” You said, following the shape of his cock with a finger.

He smiled and blushed — which you couldn’t see, considering the dark room. What you did feel was his sex twitching and hardening some more. He moaned weakly, his head falling forward and landing on your shoulder. “You mean you care only about blowing me?” He asked, his hips pushing against your palm, his hair tickling your neck and ear, making you arch away from his sinfully messy mop of hair.

You cupped him from over his sweats, massaging him slowly, gently. “Let’s say it’s a pretty important factor in our relationship.” You joked, nuzzling your nose against his head.

“Mh...” He commented meditatively. “How important compared to your love for me?” He asked, mouthing at the underside of your jaw, chuckling and teasing it with the vibrations of his voice clad in a deep rumble and the thick, teasing accent of his dialect.

“Mh… they’re neck and neck for factor number one.” You teased back, tracing his happy trail with your index finger.

“Neck and neck, you say...” He mused, nipping at your throat harshly, making you gasp. “Let’s see what happens if I take it away from you.” He wondered as he took a step away, out of your grasp.

You tried to keep touching him until he was too far for you to reach.

“Hands to yourself, babe.” He scolded as you licked your lips, looking at him as he switched on the soft led from the shower, lowering it to a soft dark red. “Promise me you’ll keep your naughty fingers at bay.” He asked, taking one step toward you.

You nodded eagerly, “I promise. Please.” You begged, placing your palms flat on your thighs and waiting for him to come closer. Once more he stood between your legs, his hands catching your wrists and bringing your arms behind your back, indirectly making your spine arch forward and push your breasts up.

He stared unashamed at your curves, barely visible over the large cotton blouse. “Keep your hands there.” He said, his fingers starting at your buttons. “My turn.” He said, undoing enough buttons to reach the lower hem of your bra, his hands sliding into the opening and cupping your breast from the lower, outer part, pressing them together and planting his face right in the crevasse, making you laugh at the drastic way he dove in.

“You good there, Guk?”

He nodded simply. “God, if you’re listening, this is a good moment to die.” He commented gingerly. “Let my girlfriend’s tits be the last thing I see before I pass.” He went on. “Amen.”

The laughter overtook you, your whole body wiggling with giggles. “Admit it, you love my tits way more than you love me.” You said before realising that the joke didn’t work both ways: even though you had confessed your feelings, he hadn’t done so with an actual declaration yet.

“Neck and neck.” He replied, letting his feelings implicitly show with ambiguous confessions.

He drew the upper curve of each breast with small kisses while his fingers worked the buttons left. The moment he reached the last one, he undid it and raised his head, looking you in the eye for the longest, slowest seconds in the history of the universe. His lips collided with yours, pressure building and building until you separated, galaxies of feelings and sensations blooming in both of you.

His hands pushed the blouse off your shoulders, letting it slide to your wrists. Next, he moved the straps of your bra off your shoulders kissing the slope of your neck and collarbone slowly and leisurely on the left side, before turning to the other side and parting his lips, letting half an inch of his tongue hang from his mouth and trace the ridge of your collarbone, his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra. The garment slid lower, your breasts heavier now without the support of the small cage. “Are they sore?” He asked, kissing you under your ear before moving his hands to your forearms, freeing you from the shirt.

“A bit. It was hot outside today.” You paused. “And my period’s close.” You added, hoping he didn’t get embarrassed by the small statement.

He stayed silent for half a minute. “How close?” He asked, moving your arm to your front so he could remove one strap, then focusing on the other one, baring your torso completely.

“It should be… four or five days away.” You said after making a quick count.

He nodded before cupping your face and kissing your mouth. “Do you need me to stock anything in the house?” He asked, parting from your face and looking you in the eye? “Sanitary products, comfort food, anything?” He asked, his gaze so soft and caring you felt a string of your heart snap and break.

“I have those at home.” You said, combing his hair away from his face, the red light making his eyes even more intense, his lips even more tempting.

“You won’t be here on the weekend?” He asked, suddenly hesitant. “I know we met today because I called you and normally you prefer staying at your place on weekdays and coming over for the weekend; but I thought that meeting today wouldn’t mean I wouldn’t have the weekend.” He said, confused and a little bit sad. Even with the dim lights you could see the disappointed look on his face.

“I thought that since I had my per—”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t want to cuddle and sleep with you. You know I—” love you. “I don’t want only sex.” He said, frowning.

You noticed he grew increasingly upset, his teeth torturing his lower lip.

Can’t you just fucking say it, Jeon Jeongguk, for goodness’ sake! His brain snapped at him, but his heart stayed guarded and wary.

“Come here.” You said, opening your arms, and letting him barricade himself into your embrace, your chest hot against his, the late summer night making both your and his skin clammy. “I know you care about me.” You said, your hand sliding into the long locks of his nape. “I’m not used to this, Guk. You know how we did this before you left.”

“This is not before I left. This is now.” He said, his voice so insecure. “I want everything. The cuddles and the sex and the feelings and… all of it. I want to be there for you. Always.” He said, raising up, towering over you as hegave up on the protection of your arms and offered you the safety of his own. “I want you to count on me. To trust me and tell me when something’s wrong. I want to support you and protect you.” He said, more and more determined. “I want to be the one you want when you had a stressful day and you need to talk. I want your problems too, ____. I want the ugly bits too. I don’t want you to choose the parts that you think I can handle and offer those alone.” He patted your head before making you look at him. “I want everything, Candy. Every damn thing, baby. The good, the bad and the in between.” He bent to your ear and closed his eyes, leaning into you, pressing his forehead to your temple. “Will you let me be there for you, baby, please?” He asked, begging, holding the crown of your head with one hand and your waist with the other.

You nodded, almost too emotional. “Yes.” You replied simply before he pressed you to his chest, where his heart beat so loud you thought he would get a heart attack.

He placed both hands on your waist lifting you off the counter and placing you with your feet on the floor. “Take off your trousers and panties, Candy.” He spoke softly as he watched your hands slide down your sides dragging the garments all the way to your ankles before stepping out of them. He placed them in the basket with the dirty laundry.

“Your sweats,” you said, trying to reach for the waistband.

“No,” he said, getting undressed by himself.

Just like that, you stood naked in front of each other, his eyes focused on your face, your gaze laced with his.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispered, cupping the side of your neck before letting his hand skim your chest, the plumpness on your breast, the sensitive curve of your waist, his palm stopping at your hip before his fingers sunk into your flesh, his eyes following his hand with unbreakable focus.

Gently, he tugged you toward the shower, making you stop before entering. “Let me get the temperature right.” He said, opening the tap and waiting a little before the water turned warm. You stared at him as he tested the spray and dove under, small rivulets rolling down his body, following the curve of his back, drenching his hair and rolling down his cheeks as he rubbed his face with his hands.

“Come, babe.” Jeongguk said, stretching his hand toward you.

Biting your lip, you took a few steps before he moved out of the spray, hugging you before he took a small step back, your and his body both under the water. You simply pressed your mouth to the base of his throat while his hands made sure that your hair got properly wet before he could wash them.

Your hands moved down his back, from his shoulder blades to the small of his back, until you managed to reach the full roundness of his ass, massaging it slowly, comfortably.

He snickered. “Are you comfy there?” He asked, just as his hands reached your own ass and squeezed it. “Does that feel good?”

You nodded, the sound of the water drowning your small moan. “Let me.” You said, turning around and rubbing at your hair, making sure it was soaked.

His hands followed the curves of your body capturing your heavy breasts in his palms. He took a deep breath before he stretched to reach his body wash, pouring some in his palm and foaming it up before spreading it over your skin, the scent of his soap filling the space.

The lights were making it even more intimate, with the red-to-black spectrum tinging the experience in a variety of tones of eroticism. First and foremost, the mildest but most difficult of them all: intimacy.

Jeongguk placed his hands on your waist, making you turn around. You were there, with your hair pushed back, your beautiful face completely exposed to his observing stare. He couldn’t hold your gaze.

He poured more shower gel on his palm and after it turned into a small handful of bubbles he bent down and divided it between his hands, bending down and washing your legs, until he knelt, washing your feet.

“Guk.” You called shyly.

He hummed in reply, just as he took a gentler soap meant for your intimate parts. He pumped a dollop on his hand and foamed it briskly before cupping your vulva delicately, focusing on the simple, affectionate task at hand, making sure to spread your labia as you parted your legs slightly to let him have access. He rubbed the palm slowly, lightly against your skin, not sparing the back, in between your ass cheeks, waiting for the water to rinse his hands and clean you fully.

He felt ready.

His hands cupped your hips, holding tight without his fingers digging in, all the pressure focused on his palms.

He kissed your belly button.

“I love you.” He almost whispered.

You were far too lost in sensations to be sure that he had actually said what you thought you had heard.

“What?” You asked, looking down at him.

He delivered another small kiss on your tummy and looked up. “I love you, ____.” He said, before smiling timidly.

“You love me?” You asked, incredulous.

“Yes. I love you, Candy. A whole damn lot.” He said, kissing a straight line from your belly to your pubic bone, stopping there. “I wanna… Can I… Can I taste you?” He asked, waiting on his knees, removing his hands and mouth from you, letting you choose freely.

You looked at him before your mouth opened in the happiest, widest smile you had ever given him. “I love you, you know that, right?” You told him, touching his face, combing his hair back.

He nodded. “I love you too.” He said, and the more he said that, the more his body felt how right, how true it was.

“You wanna eat me out?” You asked as he nodded furiously.

You lifted a leg, ready to place it on his shoulder when he sat on his hip, then turned with his back to you, laying flat on the floor, his head away from the water spray.

Your brow furrowed before he tucked his elbows next to his torso, his hands close to his face before he grinned and wiggled his fingers in a “come forth” motion.

“Uhm…” You wondered, confused for a brief moment, trying to understand if he really meant for you to ride his face, especially since you were both still trying to understand the whole cunnilingus discourse.

“Sit on my face?” He asked, his cheeks blushing — which fortunately you couldn’t see with the current lighting, he considered.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You sure?” You asked.

“Pretty sure, yes. If you want to, of course.” He replied.

Slowly you lowered yourself to your knees, his hands circling your waist and heading up, up, until he met your breasts, before heading down again, fixing your hips right against his lips.

“I’m gonna start now, Candy.” He warned you, “you can ask me to stop whenever you want to, baby.”

“Wait!” You called. “Is it okay if I blow you?” You asked, pretty sure that it would be good for your mind space if you dedicated yourself to his pleasure, easing the mental pressure you felt whenever someone went down on you. After all, Jeongguk had been the first to make you cum during oral sex, and even with him sometimes you struggled reaching your high.

“You want to sixty-nine?” He asked, trying to comfort you by lacing his fingers with yours.

“I wanna try?” You asked. “Maybe it all works better if I’m not thinking about it too much. I could use a…distraction?” You explained, doubtful.

“Okay, let’s give this a go.” He replied, completely oblivious that the simple movements of his mouth as he spoke against your crotch were making your hole drip in wetness.

“Okay then!” You slowly lowered yourself on your elbows, his lips going on a slow side-to-side motion before he opened his mouth, his upper lip pressing against your entrance while his lower one met the sensitive nerve endings of your clit, making you moan just as his tip entered your mouth, your hand cupping his balls and sliding upwards, until you could grip him as comfortably as you could.

He released a heavy breath, the hot air meeting the raw skin of your slit. Just as his tongue made its way between your labia, you bobbed your head a couple times, making him moan loudly, which made you moan in return.

The whole situation turned into a game where the more you received, the more you gave.

As you started sucking him, creating a vacuum effect with your cheeks, his hands gripped your ass, his lips wrapping around your left labium, pumping it with his cheeks into his mouth, just past his teeth, that grazed it perfectly, alternating the softness of his lips and tongue with the hard edge of his teeth, making blood pool in the sensitive tissue. Meanwhile, on his lap, you were drooling all over him, pumping him with your fist as you started losing focus. “Guk.” You called.

He simply hummed and switched to the other side.

Yes, he was dedicated like that.

“Gu— Oh, yes, love, like that, baby, just like that.” You said as you felt his hands direct your hips in a grinding motion, your mouth returning between his legs out of sheer gratitude.

He moaned again, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure as you pushed his soft head to the back of your mouth, bobbing your head a few times before your hand started fondling his balls with your palm, twisting your wrist and using the pad of your thumb to tease the delicate spot between his balls and his anus.

He released your labium. “Candy. Fuck, baby, yeah, that a… I— I really like your finger there, baby.” He said, swallowing loudly before flicking the tip of his tongue repeatedly against your clit, spanking your ass brusquely before he gave a few strong pumps to your most sensitive spot.

You released his cock, letting it snap back to his belly and speaking against his shaft. “Please… Guk. Too good, love—” Your hips began to gyrate on him, his hands leading you, keeping your movements controlled so that he didn’t lose his grip between your legs. Holding his tongue rigid and still, he pushed the tip to the underside of your clit, dragging it up and exposing the most sensitive nerves, usually protected by the hood and way too sensitive for direct stimulation. Which is exactly why after two minutes your body stilled before starting to shake uncontrollably with effort, your whole universe silent, holding its breath before your lips opened in a high pitched, incoherent cry that announced your orgasm and predicted your reckless, ruthless movements on top of Jeongguk.

He took everything in.

Every small thing.

He kept moving his tongue even as it cramped, slapping your ass shamelessly, violently, spurring you into a wilder, more desperate pace as you — completely oblivious to your raw knees — rode him with a passion, pulling him into your mouth once more to quiet down your moans.

You felt your legs shake even more as his hips started pushing into your mouth, his long hums turning into short, deep groans and whimpers.

Just as you felt his balls tighten, you drew away, making him whine and arch his hips toward you.

“Please…” He called, his voice so, so miserable and pleading.

“You want your orgasm?” You asked, voice sultry.

You precisely knew what you wanted. And you had very clear plans on how to get it just right.

You looked right in front of you, at the small bathroom carpet laying just outside the shower, ready for you to dry your feet. Your escape route was bright and clear in front of your eyes.

“Does it feel nice?” You asked, un-straddling his face, acting as if you had each and every intention to bring him to the very edge and watch him dissolve.

“Please, Candy...” He cried, his hips undulating hypnotically.

“You wanna cum?” You cooed cutely.

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah… Please.”

You stopped. “Then come get me, bunny boy.” You grinned and stood, exiting the shower with a long step, shaking the water off your body as you rubbed your feet against the carpet a few times, before dashing for the door.

Alone, he opened his eyes and raised his head, looking around. “Candy?” He called again.

No sign.

He shook his head and stood up, his erection painful and uncomfortable as he closed the tap and walked out of the shower, drying his feet harshly as he switched off the bathroom lights and exited the room, looking around, spotting a trail of droplets on the floor.

He sneered and swore, staring at his hard on and clenching his jaw as he walked down the corridor with quick, long steps.

He found you as you tried to hide in the walk-in closet, almost sure you were unfollowed the moment you moved on all fours and tried to crawl under a lower shelf.

Jeongguk smirked, the scene disgustingly hilarious to him as he grabbed your hips and pulled you out of your hiding spot.

“That’s your plan?” He asked just as you tried to wiggle out of his grip.

His fingers dug into your waist, grabbing you even harder as he dragged you away from the shelf, where you could hit your head.

“You’re ridiculous.” He said, putting you on your feet before he turned you around and hoisted you over his shoulder, spanking you unceremoniously. “Running on wobbly legs.” He spanked you again. “Leaving a pretty trail of water leading me right here.” Another spank. “I thought I had taught you better than this.” He said, offering you some mercy and biting your leg instead of smacking your ass.

Your world was very unstable as he began walking you to his bedroom. He threw you on the mattress and switched on the led light behind the headboard. Again your view became nothing but the sultriest black and red.

“You wanted to make me angry?” He asked, looking you in the eye as he climbed on top of you, spreading your legs and sitting in between before both his arms caged your head.

His chest, wet and toned, was right before your eyes, moving with the fury of a wild beast. He grabbed your chin and led your gaze upward, into his. “I said, you wanted to make me angry?” He repeated.

You nodded.

“You wanted to make me snap?” He asked again, grabbing your face, making your lips turn into a silly pout.

You nodded once more. “I am—”

“I’ll tell you what you are.” He said, getting off you, opening his drawer and taking out a towel and a plastic bottle, which he placed on the bedside table before he lifted your legs with one arm and laid the towel down with the other.

You stayed silent as he took his time.

“You are a ridiculous little fuckdoll.” He stated clearly, no lips, no stutter, no hesitation whatsoever. “You are my dumb little fuckdoll,” he went on opening the bottle and letting a heavy amount of lube draw a line from the base to the tip as he held his cock away from his belly with his thumb and forefinger running around the glans. He spread the slick liquid with his palm, sliding it up and down as he hissed. “You always need to act like a dumb brat to make me fuck you like a slut.” The moment he leaned over you and poured some lube on your cunt too, you knew you were in for a long night. He closed the lid of the bottle but kept it nearby, in case he needed more.

You were close to your period, and once you had mentioned that you had some issues getting wet because of hormones changing. He was glad you gave him that kind of notions too. He had so much to learn still.

“You want me to fuck you hard?” He asked, spreading the wetness between your legs.

You nodded wordlessly.

“Not so wordy anymore, are we?” He said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Please, Guk.” You whimpered.

“That’s my little slut. You need to be fucked, uh?” He asked again, making you beg for him.

“Jeongguk, please.” You called again, pleading for his cock inside you.

“She even says ‘please’. Aren’t you desperate?” He asked, rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

“Yes, I’m your desperate doll. I’m begging… Please—” You whimpered, opening your legs as far as they would go.

He tutted and snarled. “Oh no. You’re not my desperate doll. You’re my desperate fuckdoll.” He said with a smirk. “Say it.”

“I’m your desperate fuckdoll.” You repeated with a thin voice.

He nodded “That’s right,” he replied, rewarding you with the tip of his cock as he swore and let it stay inside you, helping you get used to it — still, he grit his teeth, his deltoids and trapezei bulging with the effort. His tattooed hand held his cock to your entrance, covered in slick, helping you as he fed you a small inch at a time.

The moment he looked up at you, you noticed the lack of harshness in his eyes. “Are you okay, Candy?” He asked just as you hissed out a ‘yes’, closing your eyes and biting your lower lip. “Can I move?” He asked again, at which you nodded energetically. He giggled. “I love you, bae.” He concluded, making you whisper a brief ‘love you’ in reply before his bad boy persona came back into play.

“So you want it hard, uh?” He asked, feeling his cock already pulsate inside you.

“Yes, hard and fast, Guk. Please. I’m your fuckdoll. Do me like your little cocksleeve, please.” You begged, whiny and weak.

“Like my cocksleeve?” He said, rolling his hips twice before he pulled out. His hand drew away from his sex and moved to your mouth, laying there gently. “Cocksleeves don’t make a sound.” He leaned towards your ear. “So you’d better stay quiet.”

Your eyes blew wide as you bit your lip and furrowed your brow, his cock sinking in your flesh so hard that the smash echoed through every single organ inside your body.

You laid there and admired him as he fucked himself inside you, biting his lower lip and releasing it slowly, letting it roll and snap forward, past his teeth. He switched his position, leaning on his hand rather than on his elbow, arching even further, spreading his legs wider, propping his weight on his knees for better leverage, using his thighs to push your legs further apart as his eyes closed, chilly droplets of water falling on your face and your chest as he hammered into you, the tendons of his neck growing taut, his veins pulsing and growing and showing even in the dim red light.

Your high was there, right there, right…

Jeongguk roared, loud and aggressive and so, so angry that he sat on his heels and gripped your hips, shoving you on his length on and on, his hips meeting your body with loud smacks as he released inside you.

“No, no no. No, please no, please—” you begged as you felt him slow down, “So… close…” You sobbed as he stopped entirely.

He placed you down on the mattress. “Oh, no...” He said with faux compassion. “Poor cocksleeve.” He said with a sadistic grin, his smirk almost demonic in the crimson light.

He caged you with his body, his arms bulky and delicious at each side of your head, several rivulets of water — or maybe sweat — sliding down his face and chest. “Cocksleeves don’t get to cum, do they?” He asked rhetorically.

You whimpered and tried to squeeze him with your inner muscles.

“Or maybe I could be generous… Offer you another round…” He wondered, kissing your lips. “Would you like that?” He asked.

“Please. So close,” you whispered, chasing his mouth with yours.

He stretched and grabbed his pillow from the headboard, sliding an arm under your hips and lifting them up, placing the pillow right under your ass. “Do you need more lube, Candy?” He checked in on you, at which you shook your head.

“I just need you inside.” You replied miserably.

He pouted and got in position, cupping your jaw and sliding his thumb in your mouth. “Take it,” he said, his right hand pushing his cock in, only barely softened. Once he sank in and gave two tentative rolls of his hips, any sort of softness disappeared.

“Like this?” He asked, his nose curled adorably and sexily at the same time as his face scrunched at the effort of slow, deep thrusts.

You purred and shook your head. “Faster, harder… please.” You moaned before he started going even slower.

He chuckled. “What do I get in exchange for it?”

You opened your eyes and bit into his arm delicately. “Please,” you pleaded again. “I’m—” A tear rolled down your face. “It’s too good, let me cum, please, I love you. I’m your fuckdoll, Guk, please let me— I’ll be so tight around you, I’ll milk your cock so good, let me cum.”

He loved when you grew wobbly-lipped and teary-eyed. He loved seeing how desperate you always were for him, how much you depended on him for your pleasure.

He collected one of your tears with his lips, “are you crying for my cock?” He asked, wicked as usual.

You shook your head yes. “More, I’m begging you, Jeongguk. I’m begging you. I’m…” In an act of pettiness, you turned completely quiet, trying to rebel against him and his oversized ego. Self-sufficiently, your hands went to your boobs, grabbing them, pinching your nipples, sometimes climbing up to your throat and pressing against it softly.

He swatted your hand away, bending his mouth to your breast, tugging and suckling at your nipple messily, just as his arm grabbed your right knee and hooked it at his elbow, pushing your leg up, the angle so irresistible that your high finally peeked from around the corner. Still you stayed silent — mouth open, but quiet.

“Candy?” He called, curious about your sudden lack of noise.

You furrowed your brow and looked at him.

He tutted at himself. “Hard and fast?” He asked again.

You didn’t react. He rolled his hips deeper, hitting the spot you loved so much. Another tear spilled from your eye, but you proudly kept your stoic approach.

He smirked and started going faster, now that he had found the spot.

A small hiccup escaped your mouth.

“There we go, Candy.” He said, finally sure of his decision as he started pounding into you with everything he had in himself. “Touch your boobs, Candy.” He suggested as he saw you grow closer and closer. “So messy for this cock, uh? Whose is the best cock, Candy?”

“Yours.” You sobbed, your hips beginning to stutter, trying to meet his thrusts but too weak and sensitive for that.

“That’s right. You love this cock, Candy, don’t you?” He asked again.

“Only yours. I do, yes, please, Guk. Jeong— Guk, please I—” Your body thrashed against his as your orgasm finally caught you and drew you under.

Jeongguk’s head dove for your breastbone, pressing there as he tried to resist your high, currently threatening to drag him with itself.

As your climax persevered, he pushed your leg over his shoulder, picking up the other one too, sinking so deep with the new angle, his mouth kissing your calf, the inner side of your knee. “Is it good enough, baby?” He asked as he saw your eyes slowly flutter open.

Fuck, his jaw line was impeccable with that angle. “It’s perfect, Guk.”

“Nice, can you take another round, love?” He asked and damn, that nickname made you say yes, yes, ten thousand times yes with no hesitation.

He pushed his thumb in your mouth, against your tongue.

“I need to touch you.” He said, watching as his finger emerged drenched from your lips, immediately bringing it to your clit.

“Can you lift your ass?” He asked right as you obeyed, the angle so deep that he slowed down specifically to make sure he could guarantee you one more orgasm before he achieved his own.

His thumb replicated the motion of his tongue earlier in the shower, teasing the tender underside of your clit just as your eyes closed—

Too intense. Too much, you thought as your breathing slowed down again, your whole body focused on your kegels.

“Give me another… Work your magic, cockfairy.” He teased as your lips parted, your eyes flashing open before slowly, messily crossing and sliding shut again, your body too confused and overwhelmed to give a verbal reaction.

Jeongguk kept going, so, so close, his hips digging deeper with tiny rolls focused on staying in, enjoying every tight squeeze you had to offer, your hands leaving your breast as you tried to slap his hand away from your clit while his teeth began teasing your calf on one side, his deep moans unstoppable even when he turned to the other side and actually nibbled on your leg, his hand persistent in his torture.

“No. Oh god! Please. No! Oh— I need to— Yeah, yes...” You hissed as Jeongguk finally crumbled against your body and delivered the last few thrusts, deep, slow, so destructive as your head tipped back, your final high too much for your body to handle.

He looked down, where your bodies joined and with a loud growl, he came apart and spilled inside you, his cock swelling intermittently for so long he almost worried at some point. But the softness of your breasts, pillowing his head, and the warmth of your breath fanning over his head, your legs sliding off his shoulders, to his waist while your arms circled his back. “I love you, Candy. So damn much. I’m so in love with you baby.” He repeated on and on, trying to make up for each slur, each degrading word and idea he had used against you.

“I love you, baby.” He repeated again. “I love every little thing of you.” He kissed your breast — even though he truly aimed at the heart beating underneath. “I don’t want just the sex. You get it now?” He asked, nuzzling his hair against your bosom.

You caressed his head fondly.

“I get it now, of course, love.” You reassured him.

“You’ll lean on me, right? You’ll count on me?” He asked insecure, afraid at how many things he still had to learn about adult, mature relationships.

“I’ll lean on you. We’ll lean on each other.” You said, kissing his forehead as he raised his head.

“We didn’t finish the shower…” He mused, pulling out of your entrance carefully, staring as his seed dripped out of you and down your thigh.

You looked at his mesmerised expression.

He bit his lip before releasing it with a snap. “Fuck, you’re dripping.” He said before looking up.

And you don’t know if it was for the hot sight of his tattooed arm flexing, for his mop of damp long curls, for his wide, taut pectorals, for his lips glistening in drool or the dark lust in his eyes as he saw the mixture of his seed and your wetness oozing from your cunt, but you decided you were far from having enough.

“Didn’t they teach you to clean after yourself?” You teased with a cocked eyebrow.

His eyes climbed all the way to your gaze, finding the silent permission he was looking for.

And he dove for your cunt like a starving wolf.

[thegryffindorprincess]

Too Hasty//Draco Malfoy x Reader

A/N: OKAY I’M SO SORRY I JUST LEFT THE WHOLE PLATFORM FOR LIKE A MONTH! Basically, I caught covid-19 (lmao) and have been dying for a few weeks, but today was my first day out of my uni halls and first day back in lessons so I’m back for now. Here’s a cute ass little story for you all, I will be back x

Word Count: 1,818

Set: Post War

Warnings: Literally none, just cute

Harry Potter stood in the door way of the dining room at the back of Grimmauld Place fondly, looking at the people sitting around the table. Hermione and Ron were sat together reading, him noticing her grinning slightly when Ron needed to read a passage of text out loud to understand what it was he was reading. His eyes shifted to George, Luna and Neville who were attempting to balance as many goblets on top of each other as possible, erupting into a fit of giggles when it fell, Luna casually flicking her wand before they made a large bang on the table. He also watched his fiance, Ginny coo at Teddy Tonks who was babbling away in his high chair, using the few words he knew to communicate that he was demanding more pumpkin juice. And finally, Harry smiled as Draco Malfoy attempted to spoon feed Teddy some very odd looking green paste that he’d read encourages toddlers motor skills. When their eyes met they shared a very understanding glance. Teddy giggled as the goop touched his nose, spraying some of it onto Draco, causing the blonde man to grimace slightly but smile at the small boy instead. Harry moved towards the table and began to stack the plates onto one another, moving them into the kitchen.

“Hey Harry, let me help you.” Draco said, wiping Teddy’s dribbling mouth, going to stand, starting to pick up a few of the plates. Harry smiled at him thankfully and the two of them began to wash up the dishes in the kitchen. Harry Potter liked this Draco Malfoy and was amazed at the man he had grown up to be. Since the war- and since Harry had saved him from a stint in Azkaban, Draco had devoted himself to things that brought the world good. He’d trained long and hard to become a Healer, helping to care for vunerable people who were affected by the war, he’d taken on Teddy as his own son, moving in with the Order of the Pheonix to not only care for his second cousin every day but to help his new found friends with their fight against dark magic. Everything about his new life appeared to be perfect, except one thing. As Draco and Harry finished off drying Teddy’s “Chudley Cannon’s” bowl, brought for him by Ron, the shrill sound of the door bell sounded throughout the hall. Harry jumped a little, excusing himself from the others and walked towards the door, right hand resting on his wand that was stuck out of his pocket. He flung the door open. The cool air from the evening night hit his face and a figure that had been waiting patiently away from the door turned to face him.

“Harry!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in. Y/N Y/L/N was stood in the weak evening sunlight, her skin glowing. Her features were so gentle that they seemed painted, her hair was done up, wand stuck through it. She was grinning from ear to ear, skin tanned. 

“Y/N! Come in, come in. You must tell us where you’ve been!” Harry helped her in, taking her suitcases and resting them by the staircase. Y/N entered Grimmauld Place, taking in how much it had brightened up and changed since the last time she’d visited. She wondered into the dining room, exchanging hugs and greetings with her friends, all of them exclaiming how amazing she looked and how much they’d missed her. She smiled back at them all, thanking them for their kindness. 

“Oh it’s been amazing! Paris was just beautiful I am so glad I went. I feel like I’ve finally got over-” Y/N stopped suddenly, looking over to the figure who’d just emerged from the kitchen. Draco had been hiding in the darkness of the kitchen, but now was stood awkwardly in the dining room’s light. “Draco.” She breathed, finishing her sentence. He waved a little, throwing her a tiny smile. She didn’t respond. Pretending she hadn’t seen it, she continued with her anecdote, animatedly telling the group about her world traveling, her visit to most of the wizarding Ministries of Magic and her new career editing the Daily Prophet. The group listened intensely, hanging on her every word, Hermione keeping her eye on Draco as he stared nervously at his feet, remaining at the door. Y/N also told Teddy about the creatures she’d met from other countries, taking pride in the way he glowed. The conversation came to an end.

“Will you be staying Y/N?” Ginny asked grinning, “please say you’re staying!” Y/N laughed at her best friend.

“If it’s not any trouble, I can always go to the Leaky Caul-”

“No way.” Hermione said firmly, “you must stay here.” With that, Hermione took Y/N’s hand and led her up the stairs, Ginny and Luna following behind. Hermione took them into one of the spare bedrooms, where Luna’s bed was already set up and waved her wand, creating a new blow-up style bed on the floor. Y/N thanked her gently, throwing her heavy bags down by the dresser. The girls stayed for a while, making themselves comfortable in the room. They sat in silence.

“I didn’t know Draco was living with you now.” Y/N said quietly, making sure her face remained neutral. 

“Yeah,” Hermione said, fidgiting with her sleeves, “he’s lived with us ever since his charges were dropped.” Y/N nodded quickly, going back to unpacking her bags. 

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to be bored by chat of her ex fiance.” Ginny slightly snapped, pulling Hermione with her, nearing the door. “We’ll let you sleep now, goodnight girls.”

Once they left, Y/N and Luna got ready for bed, exchanging slight chat as they did so, Luna very interested in Y/N’s travels.

“You know,” said Luna quietly as they both snuggled up into the covers, “Draco really is quite different now.” Before turning over and closing her eyes dreamily. Y/N huffed a little, turning over herself.

“Let’s not be too hasty.” Y/N mumbled, huffing again before going to sleep.

XXXX

The morning came quickly for Y/N who’d spent most of the night awake. At five in the morning, she slipped out of bed, putting on her dressing gown and gently plopping down the stairs. She wandered into the kitchen quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping house. As she went towards the kettle, a figure moved out into the light, causing her to jump slightly. 

“Draco!” She whispered, clutching her chest. He smiled at her softly, a small baby bottle in his hand, which he was shaking. 

“How are you?” Draco asked, running a pale hand through his platinum hair, letting it hang messily in front of his eyes. “I feel like yesterday was a bit of a um shock for us both.” Y/N looked awkwardly, filling the kettle up with water, tapping it with her wand.

“Yeah it was a little odd, I mean last time I saw you you were a death eater and now you’re some kind of fucking saint.” As the words left her mouth, she watched his face fall. Her hands shot up to her mouth. “I’m sorry....I-”

“I can hear Teddy crying for his bottle,” Draco whispered horsely, pushing past her as he left the kitchen, “I’ll see you later.” Y/N watched him leave, unsure of what to say. She continued to make her tea, eyes threatening to spill tears as she sat at the table. Her owl flew in through the window, dropping the Daily Prophet onto the table top. She thanked it, before settling down to read in the morning sunlight.

XXXX

When the rest of the house arose, they were rushing around getting ready for work. Knowing Draco would be staying home all day with Teddy, some of the gangs attempted to haul her to work with them, George explaining how much he’d love to have her at the shop, Ginny saying that Y/N would be more than welcome to help referee, but she politely rejected all of them. They left one after another, all looking very important and busy. As Ron shut the door behind him, the last one to leave, the house fell into a sudden silence. Y/N watched from the dining room as Draco played with Teddy, teaching him letters from a small leather bound book. His face was painted in a gentle happiness as he watched the small boy fondly, running his hands through his dark locks. She watched closely as Teddy’s eyes began to flutter close, Draco hauling him up onto the sofa and covering him in a blanket from the chest on the floor. As Draco placed a small kiss on his forehead, Y/N entered, settling on the living room floor and tidying some of Teddy’s toys away.

“Leave that,” Draco said, swatting her away, “I’ve got it.” Y/N shuffled awkwardly from him, letting him squish past to grab the toys. 

“I wanted to say sorry.” Y/N began, looking Draco in the eyes for the first time since last night, “You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in that way.” Draco nodded, continuing to tidy up the floor. 

“I’ve not stopped thinking about you.” He slightly whispered. Y/N felt like she’d stopped breathing for a moment. “Not dated, not kissed, not,” he lowered his voice, looking over to Teddy to ensure he was asleep, “fucked anybody else.” 

“Really?” She asked. “Neither have I for the record I couldn’t.” Draco swallowed, looking down at her, where she sat on the floor. 

“I kept my promise to you.” Y/N cocked her head a little confused. He rolled up his sleeve, showing her the nearly faded dark mark that still lay in his skin. “I will counter act my evil until my mark disappears for you.” Her mouth fell open as she watched how he flinched at the sight of his arm. She leant up, Draco allowing her gentle fingers to stroke the mark. 

“For me?” She repeated. 

“You.” Draco watched her carefully as she stood from where she was standing, moving closer to him. He automatically pulled her into him, just like he always had. 

“Kiss me idiot.” She said grinning, allowing him to grab her jaw softly, pulling her into a glowing kiss. She felt her skin heat up as her pressed closer to her bringing her closer and closer. 

“Uncle Dray?” A tiny voice squeaked from the sofa. The two shot round just in time to watch Teddy looking confused at them. 

“Yes Ted?” Draco quickly said, regaining his composure. 

“Is that your new wife?” Teddy asked innocently, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Y/N began to giggle a little, covering her mouth with her hand. Draco began to laugh to, walking over to Teddy and pulling him into a cuddle.

“Let’s not be too hasty hey Ted.” 

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

random thoughts about aegon vi and septa lemore

Apparently, it’s Aegon’s week. i don’t think i ever paticipated in these events for any character or pairing, but @agentrouka-blog​’s theory that septa Lemore is Ashara Dayne and that the baby switch was between Aegon and her rumoured child (instead of random kid) showed up on my dash today.

Lemore being Ashara Dayne and there having been baby switch like theorised would be fantastic, because she’d know a lot of stuff that is otherwise impossible to know. She knows who dishonoured her at Harrenhal (we all know Brandon, not Ned). She knows about Wylla, a wetnurse from the Dayne Household, who Eddard Stark and Edric Dayne both say is Jon’s mother (we all know Jon is Lyanna’s, so this apparent lie version being told by two different people who have nothing to do with one another seems to suggest a combined lie between Ned and the Daynes). She knows about Jon because Ned went to Starfall with him and (if baby switch theory is true), she can confirm Aegon VI is real.

There’s also the suspicious narrative choice of a “Targ” (not even, she has dark hair, not silver hair, even if she has purple eyes) getting with an impetuous Stark at Harrenhal and a secret child never really going anywhere. What’s the point of that besides shading Rhaegar plus Lyanna equals Jon? This I always thought was suspicious, but this theory would *poof* make it make sense.

TYRION III ~ ADWD

This is the chapter where Aegon VI Targaryen is first introduced. The whole chapter is like a “perigrination” to find him. I am of the opinion that Aegon VI is the real thing for a long time now and there’s evidence that might be the case in this very chapter where he’s introduced.

"How fares our lad?" asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured. Tyrion counted six, oaken chests with iron hasps. Duck shifted them easily enough, hoisting them on one shoulder.

This is shortly after the chapter starts. Not only Illyrio asks about Aegon, there’s also the imagery of six chests about. If Aegon is crowned king of Westeros, he’ll be Aegon VI Targaryen.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. He was always fond of it." Illyrio sounded oddly sad.

This is often used as a clue that Aegon VI is fake. Illyrio is expressing some sentimental attachment, so there are theories that he could be the father and the mother would be some Valyrian looking wife he has. it has its merits.

On the other hand, Aegon VI is on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes his hair another colour, but most importantly in this passage, is Aegon’s fond of a specific sweet that what we would at first mistake for a father for the reasons pointed above gifts him with.

This is 1:1 what’s going on with Sansa, she’s on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes her hair another colour, she’s fond of a specific sweet (lemoncakes) and Littlefinger, who’s pretending to be her father and is very... emotionally invested... in her, gifts her with some (well, in parternship with her cousin, but the cousin is another matter).

By parallel, Aegon is real.++

Tyrion craned his head to one side, and saw a boy standing on the roof of a low wooden building, waving a wide-brimmed straw hat. He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair.

Aegon is inrroduced standing above the rest, literally high-standing.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

An older couple with a Rhoynish cast to their features stood close beside the tiller, whilst a handsome septa in a soft white robe stepped through the cabin door and pushed a lock of dark brown hair from her eyes.

This is actually what I came for, Lemore.

Why a septa would be described as “handsome” when that should have no relevance since she’s supposed to be chaste (I know, it’s Tyrion, but still)? Ashara Dayne is described by many as being beautiful, arrestingly so. If Lemore is Ashara, “handsome” is a good way to describe her beauty still.

Lemore has dark brown hair. Ashara is described as having long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders. More importantly, Lemore's first actions is push her hair from her eyes. Like, pay attention to this woman’s eyes, even though they’re not described ever (not even their colour).

TYRION IV ~ ADWD

Tyrion had drunk himself blind his first night on the Shy Maid. The next day he awoke with dragons fighting in his skull.

So yes, the night after Tyrion meets Aegon and his party for the first time, he dreams of dragons fighting. Take note these are dragons, not a fake dragon in whatever way and a dragon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

The clouds in the sky were aglow: pink and purple, maroon and gold, pearl and saffron. One looked like a dragon. Once a man has seen a dragon in flight, let him stay at home and tend his garden in content, someone had written once, for this wide world has no greater wonder. Tyrion scratched at his scar and tried to recall the author's name. Dragons had been much in his thoughts of late.

One of those clouds looks like a dragon. There’s no dragons with these colours BUT Targs have purple eyes and Viseryion, a dragon I believe is a narrative stand-in for Aegon VI, is described as cream and gold, so one colour here. Honestly, the important here is that Tyrion is associating dragons around Aegon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

"Good morrow, Hugor." Septa Lemore had emerged in her white robes, cinched at the waist with a woven belt of seven colors. Her hair flowed loose about her shoulders. "How did you sleep?"

Holy shit.

“Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes.

"Fitfully, good lady. I dreamed of you again." A waking dream. He could not sleep, so he had eased a hand between his legs and imagined the septa atop him, breasts bouncing.

"A wicked dream, no doubt. You are a wicked man. Will you pray with me and ask forgiveness for your sins?"

Only if we pray in the fashion of the Summer Isles. "No, but do give the Maiden a long, sweet kiss for me."

Laughing, the septa walked to the prow of the boat. It was her custom to bathe in the river every morning.

"Plainly, this boat was not named for you," Tyrion called as she disrobed.

"The Mother and the Father made us in their image, Hugor. We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of gods."

Yeah, it’s Tyrion, who’d sexualise a rock, but this is a septa who deserves respect. Yet, this is how the writer “paints” the reader’s first interaction with this new character. These are always the most striking moments when establishing a character and sex imagery is what the writer decided to do.

Also Lemore not only knows that Tyrion’s fantasising about having sex with her and doesn’t give a shit, she laughs instead, gets naked to bathe, and doesn’t give a shit if others look at her naked body. This doesn’t feel like a septa. I mean, I remember Mordane and the zealots at King’s Landing who screwed with Cersei. They have nothing on this.

The way she puts why she has no problems with naked bodies and the like also suggest some kind of “free spirit” which goes well with the (disgusting, but there) dornish wanton woman trope and being dishonoured by Brandon at Harrenhal.

Another thing to note, is that Tyrion also clearly says the “Shy Maid” wasn’t named after Lemore, which suggests she’s neither shy nor a maid. This is confirmed by her actions and by...

The dwarf watched Lemore slip into the water. The sight always made him hard. There was something wonderfully wicked about the thought of peeling the septa out of those chaste white robes and spreading her legs. Innocence despoiled, he thought … though Lemore was not near as innocent as she appeared. She had stretch marks on her belly that could only have come from childbirth.

Lemore was pregnant at one point!

When Lemore climbed back onto the deck, Tyrion savored the sight of water trickling between her breasts, her smooth skin glowing golden in the morning light. She was past forty, more handsome than pretty, but still easy on the eye. Being randy is the next best thing to being drunk, he decided. It made him feel as if he was still alive. "Did you see the turtle, Hugor?" the septa asked him, wringing water from her hair. "The big ridgeback?"

This disparity of behaviour between septa Lemore and any other septa in ASOIAF is VERY suspicious.  Note how Lemore has two mysteries about her already, she’s characterised nothing like any septa in ASOIAF (more like the tasteless “dornish wanton woman” sterotype instead) and a mystery child. What’s the point of that, if she’s irrelevant.

Compare how he Yandry and Ysilla couple is treated, where there are no bizarre things taking place that I noticed. Also Yandry and Ysilla are specifically said to be a pair of Dornish orphans. Why is the image of Dornish people here, along with Lemore? Suspicious, suspicious.

Lemore is “past fourty”. The asoiaf wiki lists Ashara Dayne as being born between 260AC and 269AC, which means that she’d be around this age if she had lived.

The imagery of a (false, but still) maidtaking a bath while men watch is the same as Florian and Jonquil song, an event that legend says happened at Maidenpool (close to... yes, that’s right, Harrenhal, where Ashara met Brandon).

"The turtles have their charms, I will allow. Nothing delights me so much as the sight of a nice pair of shapely … shells.

"Septa Lemore laughed. Like everyone else aboard the Shy Maid, she had her secrets. She was welcome to them. I do not want to know her, I only want to fuck her. She knew it too. As she hung her septa's crystal about her neck, to nestle in the cleft between her breasts, she teased him with a smile.

That’s not the behaviour of a septa and note the narrative acknowledgement that Lemore has secrets. She’s also called Lady instead of septa at some point in the narrative.

If this is Ashara, then Brandon met his match at Harrenhal. The waste, I can’t. What a sexy couple.

This chapter also contains Targ history as well as some Dorne (mother Rhoyne and whatnot). It goes well with Aegon is the real deal. But what really cinches it is the ending...

"It was him," cried Yandry. "The Old Man of the River."And why not?

Tyrion grinned. Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.

The Old Man of the River is a lesser god, the son of Mother Rhoyne. These gods are all associated with Dorne.

Aegon is real.++.

Tyrion VI ~ ADWD

"Even the bravest of your forebears kept his Kingsguard close about him in times of peril." Lemore had changed out of her septa's robes into garb more befitting the wife or daughter of a prosperous merchant. Tyrion watched her closely. He had sniffed out the truth beneath the dyed blue hair of Griff and Young Griff easily enough, and Yandry and Ysilla seemed to be no more than they claimed to be, whilst Duck was somewhat less. Lemore, though … Who is she, really? Why is she here? Not for gold, I'd judge. What is this prince to her? Was she ever a true septa?

Who is she, really... indeed... Lemore’s identity clearly is important.

She turned back to Prince Aegon. "You are not the only one who must needs hide."

Why does Lemore need to hide? :)

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

When I was new to fandom I was bored by Dany and Jon story. Dany for me was typical fantasy heroine who was winning and getting everything and Jon has basically underdog story which wasn't that new. When I saw the so hyped boatsex I was like eh? I found Arya more interesting and Sansa started to grow on me. It's through jonsa I started admiring Jon and loving Sansa. Also through Sansa and jonsa fandom I realised Dany is a villain which is better than savior of world.

Hi nonny, well you were not alone in seeing Dany as a fantasy heroine (lots and lots and lots of people saw her this way). I suppose I’d disagree with the idea that she is typical...mainly because she isn’t the heroine, and her story is one fantastic inversion of the hero’s journey. I love Dany’s storyline for what it’s doing. Unfortunately, many people don’t see it. I also love Jon’s story, especially as this wonderful parallel to Dany’s, except where Dany’s experiences only heighten her sense of “specialness”, Jon’s experiences are constantly forcing him to see and even “live in” other people’s perspectives. Dany’s arc is about hubris and upholding this idea that she alone deserves unbridled power, while Jon’s is about humility and seeing the inherent value in other people’s lives. He pays dearly for his mistakes, especially when he tries to push his friends away and take on the burden of leadership alone (but that’s getting way ahead of what I want to talk about today). 

Almost immediately, Dany’s chapters are infused with the language of “specialness”. She is the “blood of the dragon”, she is the khaleesi, a princess, a queen...and almost immediately, Jon Snow is disabused about any such notions he may have had, even as a bastard. 

Jon stared sullenly at the smoke rising from the brazier, until Noye took him under the chin, thick fingers twisting his head around. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy."

Jon looked. The armorer had a chest like a keg of ale and a gut to match. His nose was flat and broad, and he always seemed in need of a shave. The left sleeve of his black wool tunic was fastened at the shoulder with a silver pin in the shape of a longsword. "Words won't make your mother a whore. She was what she was, and nothing Toad says can change that. You know, we have men on the Wall whose mothers were whores."

Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.

"You think you had it hard, being a high lord's bastard?" the armorer went on. "That boy Jeren is a septon's get, and Cotter Pyke is the baseborn son of a tavern wench. Now he commands Eastwatch by the Sea."

"I don't care," Jon said. "I don't care about them and I don't care about you or Thorne or Benjen Stark or any of it. I hate it here. It's too … it's cold."

"Yes. Cold and hard and mean, that's the Wall, and the men who walk it. Not like the stories your wet nurse told you. Well, piss on the stories and piss on your wet nurse. This is the way it is, and you're here for life, same as the rest of us." 

A Game of Thrones - Jon III

As soon as Jon arrives at the Wall, his uncle gives him the cold shoulder and goes so far as to verbally reprimand Jon for believing he’d get special favor for being Ned Stark’s son, and then Donal Noye also knocks him down a few more pegs, calling him boy and reminding him that he is no better than anyone else at the Wall. 

"Yes, life," Noye said. "A long life or a short one, it's up to you, Snow. The road you're walking, one of your brothers will slit your throat for you one night."

"They're not my brothers," Jon snapped. "They hate me because I'm better than they are."

"No. They hate you because you act like you're better than they are. They look at you and see a castle-bred bastard who thinks he's a lordling." The armorer leaned close. “You're no lordling. Remember that. You're a Snow, not a Stark. You're a bastard and a bully."

A Game of Thrones - Jon III

Two chapters later, Dany is a married woman and riding in Khal Drogo’s khalasar. While she is miserable at the start (and rightly so. She is sold and raped. I’m in no way pretending that Dany’s life doesn’t start out horrible. It’s far more horrible than Jon’s start to life), she is in a position of power for the first time ever, and lets just say she takes to it just fine. 

Jorah tells her about ghost grass (that passage deserves its own meta - the writing was on the wall from book one, people), and Dany doesn’t want to hear it: 

"I don't want to talk about that now," she said. "It's so beautiful here, I don't want to think about everything dying."

"As you will, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said respectfully.

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III

Jon doesn’t want to hear people calling his mother a whore = Tough luck kid, your mother was who she was. Face reality. 

Dany doesn’t want to hear about ghost grass murdering all life = conversation ends and Dany gets to enjoy the beautiful day without others spoiling it. 

"Wait here," Dany told Ser Jorah. "Tell them all to stay. Tell them I command it."

The knight smiled. Ser Jorah was not a handsome man. He had a neck and shoulders like a bull, and coarse black hair covered his arms and chest so thickly that there was none left for his head. Yet his smiles gave Dany comfort. "You are learning to talk like a queen, Daenerys."

"Not a queen," said Dany. "A khaleesi." She wheeled her horse about and galloped down the ridge alone.

The descent was steep and rocky, but Dany rode fearlessly, and the joy and the danger of it were a song in her heart. All her life Viserys had told her she was a princess, but not until she rode her silver had Daenerys Targaryen ever felt like one.

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III

Their stories are inversions of each other from their very first pages in AGOT and it culminates in ADWD which is this wonderful deep dive into how these divergent viewpoints color their leadership styles. 

I don’t have time to go on and on about this, but I find Dany and Jon’s stories fascinating and I love them as foils. They just don’t make any sense from a shipping perspective. 

That being said, for the show, I totally bought into the pol!jon theory. That was the only thing that made season 7 fit any kind of narrative sense, and with that lens I didn’t mind the season or the boat sex scene, because I thought the lack of chemistry was the point. LOL. I’m a clown. 

However you came to Jonsa, I’m glad you did! I agree. Dany makes a much more interesting villain than she does a heroine. We don’t need any more white savior stories. Blech. 

[pinstripepiksee]

The following passage is the first part of a book I'm working on.

Hello allow me to introduce myself, I'm queer, I used to be a super villain, and I'm new in town. But let's not get ahead of ourselves we'll start from the top...

I wake up on a muggy Wednesday morning in mid July in my "room" ( a concrete floored basement that did double duty as a grave yard for my mom's abandoned hobbies). My alarm clock read 8:47..."shit" I mutter to my self as I roll out of bed.

I was supposed to be up two hours ago guess I'd skip my morning run and breakfast today (I'd just double my distance tomorrow), I told myself as I throw on a pair of Levi's and a faded black tshirt and tried and failed to find a pair of matching socks settling for a navy ankle sock and a brown dress sock. "Whatever at least they're clean". Just as I began to leave my cell chimed flipping it open I saw a text from 'Banana' that read [[0mw t- 10 min]]. Savannah the queen of convenient timing would of course show up early the one time I was running late. I run up the stairs taking mental inventory trying to see if I forgot anything thing: wallet, watch, cell, keys...keys pat pat yep keys, water bottle... That'd be in the fridge. I shuffle into the kitchen past my younger sister, Lysa, sitting at the computer playing the Sims. She glanced up looked me up and down and with raised eyebrow said "your socks don't match" before going back to her game I didn't know how to respond to this (or rather I did I was just trying to be a nicer person at this point in my life), so I ignored it. "I'm going out with the 'girls' today I should be back a little after six, do you need anything before I go?" She paused for a beat of 'serious' consideration and than with all the imperiousness available to a thirteen year old she said "nah"... "Oh, Wils' Aunt Kasey sent you a package it's on the table" and than resumed her standard operating procedure of pretending I didn't exist. With a sigh I went to go examine the package it was indeed addressed to Wilson Pell of Carlyle, Washington from Kasey Addison in somewhere outside of Lyon France as far as I could tell from the postage. Just as I was about to open it Savannah sauntered in through the kitchen door. Savannah was in her usual uniform of paint stained caprese, a tank top she'd made out of a graphic tee ( this one a souvenir from Vancouver B.C.) and to top it off a thrift store flannel a couple sizes to big for her, and her signature Converse that she'd customized with sharpie. She was gangly sixteen year old with a main of curly dark hair, fair skin, green eyes, and she was very short. A full eight inches shorter than me in fact.

"Hey, Wilco! Morning Lysa!" She proclaimed brightly. Lysa waved unenthusiasticly from the computer.

"Hey Sav, sorry I'm not ready I overslept..." Savannah cut me off before I could even finish apologizing with cheerful yet dismissive wave.

"No worries! I'm early, you go finish getting ready and I'll entertain myself" she said while raising her eyebrows theatrically. I smiled thankfully well I ran off to the bathroom to make myself look presentable. I get into bathroom and try and fail to avoid making eye contact with myself in the mirror knowing I wouldn't like what I saw there. The familiar stranger in my reflection appeared to be a sixteen year old too skinny boy with shaggy brown hair, amber eyes and light olive complexion on the short end of average. I was also in need of a shave and judging by the bags under my eyes a lot more sleep. I settle for brushing my teeth, washing my face, and attempting to get my hair not to look like an ongoing dumpster fire. I finish up my ablutions by throwing on some Irish Spring. Before I leave I give my reflection one last glance before again recoiling in revulsion.

I walk back into kitchen holding my 'well used' Nikes sitting down to shove them on my feet. Savannah and Lysa were chatting about Lysa's dance class a school that she, Savannah, had also attended.

"... Mistress Sabine is just like that she'll warm up to you in a couple weeks. She just doesn't like getting attached until she knows your in it for the long hall, you know?"

"Yeah I guess she seems like a good instructor just you know like..."

"A bit of a bitch?"

"Yeah!" Lysa said while suppressing a bit of a laugh.

"Ope looks like sleeping beauty is ready! Talk to you later." Savannah said with another dramatic brow lift.

" Have fun, don't die."

And with that we departed.

[krreader]

tears of gold | the aftermath.

pairing: min yoongi x reader fandom: bts warnings: anxiety ; depression genre: angst ; fluff word count: 3.3k+  previous: x

summary: if yoongi had a super power, it would be to turn back time and undo his past mistakes. 

a/n: tumblr, you better not do me dirty again, let ME POST THIS NOW.

This started out as a very normal day on tour.

Yoongi got woken up by his alarm at 6 in the morning, turning it off with a heavy sigh before lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling through the darkness of the room. As always, his first thoughts were about his daughter, hoping that she was doing okay, that she was healthy and happy. Then his thoughts drifted to you, hoping that you were better off now that you were away from him.

It's been two years since Hoseok had told him that he had spotted you out on the streets with his child and back then, he had done everything he could to track you down, only to find out from one of your old friends that you had decided to move out of the country.

And he didn't know where to.

Two years of the never ending wondering where you were, sadness about the what-could-have-been, disappointment in himself, all the while pretending he was still the same bubbly Suga that fans loved so much.

One of those days, he wouldn't be able to put on the facade anymore.

Finally, he slipped out of bed and under the shower, getting ready within ten minutes, before joining the others for breakfast.

He got himself a plate, sat down and continued his morning like he always did, his thoughts slowly managing to focus on the performance today.

Until Namjoon said something that made him freeze, a cold shiver running down his spine, because he hadn’t expected to hear that name being said out loud ever again.

“What the hell?” he turned the flyer in his hand around, his eyes widening, before reading what was on it: “Join (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for the reading of her bestseller that captivated the hearts of millions.”

It got very quiet for a moment, everyone that was sitting at the table stopped eating and now stared at Namjoon, but he stared at Yoongi.

“I thought (Y/N) was in management?”

“The (Y/N)? Yoongi hyung's ex girlfriend?”

“She's an author now?”

“She moved here?”

Question after question was being thrown around a moment later, but Yoongi couldn't do anything other than stare at your smiling face printed on the flyer.

You looked so happy, your eyes literally sparkling and your posture screaming nothing but confidence.

Had it really only been three years? Because looking at you on that flyer now made it seem like it’s been over twenty..

Hoseok was the first to clear his throat, knowing more than the others did, “Doesn't really matter, right? They broke up, I don't think that it's any of our business.”

Even if they were all curious, a look at Yoongi, whose head was hanging so low that nobody could see his face through his long strands of hair, was enough for them all to return to eating quietly.

No matter how long it's been, he was clearly still struggling, they all knew that. They had tried to help, had done everything in their power, but at one point, there was nothing left to do for them. None of them could truly help.

Nevertheless, Namjoon left the flyer on the table as he and the others got up to go back to their rooms to get their things before they had to leave for the venue and Yoongi couldn't help but to reach for it and stare at it for a long time, his fingertips running over your printed face.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered to himself.

And once again, he got reminded of just how much he missed you. Your face, your touch, your lips against his. Everything about you, he missed, yearned for.

So even though it was a bad idea for both parties and his mental health, he made the decision to go there, hoping that he’d get to see a glimpse of his daughter from afar.

The room filled up within the first ten minutes until there was absolutely no seat left.

You truly hadn't expected so many to turn up, but looking at the crowd of so many clutching your book to their chests with a happy and excited smile on their face made you once again realize of just how good of an idea it had been to write down your struggles and thoughts, knowing that so many could relate and connect with you like that.

“Are you ready?” your agent placed her hand on your lower back, “They're all waiting for you.”

“I'm nervous,” you admitted.

“That's normal. But you'll do great. Just read the passages that we've talked about, don't think too much about it.”

And while you and your agent discussed some final things before you’d go on stage, Yoongi managed to sneak in and stand at the very back, his eyes immediately scanning the room in hopes of seeing a little girl, but there was none.

Just.. fans.

You had fans now.

A part of him was so proud of you, of what you had achieved after everything that he had put you through. But that other part hated him for that exact reason.

“Please welcome (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Your name made him snap out of his thoughts, his breath getting stuck in his throat when you stepped out on that stage and he swore that for a moment, the world stopped spinning. He couldn't hear the claps and screams anymore, it was as if everything blurred except for you on that stage, smiling so happily and carefree, even if you seemed a little nervous.

You looked gorgeous.

Your hair had grown a little, but it suited you so well. You wore a blue dress, one of his favorite colors on you, with black heels that he loved so much. And like when he saw you on that flyer, all the feelings for you that had never vanished came crashing back down and all he could think about was: ‘I love you so much.. even after all this time.’

“Uh, thank you all for coming here, I really didn't expect so many of you to show up,” you chuckled nervously and sat down, grabbing your book from the floor, “If you read my book – which I assume you did, since you showed up here today – then you know how much it means to me. Sharing it with the world and reaching so many of you that have been or are in the same boat as I used to be in... if I was able to help even one of you with it, then I've achieved everything I wanted.”

Another round of claps echoed through the room, Yoongi's eyebrows furrowing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Maybe he should have read up on what the book was about.

Probably would have been a good idea.

Because he really wasn't prepared for what he heard once you started reading.

“I used to think that my live was perfect. Perfect job, perfect friends, perfect family, perfect partner. There was not a single thing in my life that I had wanted to change at the time. I was living in a bubble with nothing but happiness and bliss. A bubble that I wasn't prepared to burst.. ever. But that's what happened when the pregnancy test showed two lines. That day, time stopped for a very long time. I truly thought that my life was over when these two lines appeared. It's not that I wasn't well off financially, or that I had parents who would disapprove. It's just that I wasn't ready to be a mother yet. The thought of taking care of something so precious and raising them to be the best possible version of themselves, that was something that scared the living shit out of me. It paralyzed me to the point where when I walked out of the bathroom that day, I was just the shell of my former happy self. I knew I had to tell my partner right away, was expecting him to put his arm around my shoulder and tell me that everything would be alright. That he'd be with me and that we'd raise this child together, that no matter what, I wouldn't be alone in this,” you stopped for a moment to gulp down hard, then you looked up at the crowd with tears in your eyes, “But I was.”

The more you read, the weaker Yoongi's legs became.

This was about him.

“I gave him an ultimatum that one day. That if he didn't want the child now that he'd never get another chance at being a father again. Even if I wasn't ready for the baby, I never would have abandoned it. But he did. He abandoned her before she was even born. He walked out that day and I was completely alone.”

When the world started spinning around Yoongi, he took a step back until he hit the cold window, trying to regain control over his body and emotions.

“The following weeks were the worst of my life. I didn't feel alive anymore, despite the life inside of me growing. I didn't feel anything, gave up on crying eventually, stopped eating and just didn't function properly anymore. Anxiety and depression consumed me, I was feeling worthless and unloved and nothing could fix it. No matter what I did, no matter who tried to help me. That continued on until I went for my first ultrasound appointment,” despite the tear that rolled out of your eye, you smiled, “I've never heard anything more beautiful than that sound. The heartbeat of my child. Beating so strong and loudly, despite me taking so little care of myself. I sobbed my eyes out that day, kept apologizing to the screen, to my baby and made a promise that day to take better care of myself to take care of the baby. The baby, that was so strong, even when I couldn't be. But I wanted to be. I wanted to be strong for her and so I made a decision that day. I became the mother that I wanted my child to have. A strong one. I changed my number and I moved, I started a new life, far away from the man that promised me the world but threw me away the moment that his idea of the future got destroyed. I was done crying over someone that treated me like trash, that treated my child – our child – like trash. So I regained control over my life again, saw a therapist to talk about my issues and by the time that my daughter was born, I could hold her in my arms with the happiest of smiles and say: I love you and I'm so glad you're in this world. I’m so glad that I get to call you my daughter.”

At that point, Yoongi was silently crying, biting down so hard on his lip as to not make a sound and alert anyone of what was going on that it started to bleed.

“I raised my daughter on my own and I couldn't be prouder of who she is today. This beautiful bundle of pure joy and happiness that loves with all her heart. I did that. I didn't need her father and she didn't either. Him leaving us was so hard at first, but it made me so strong, it made our bond so strong. But I guess, if I could say one thing to him now..-”

Yoongi hadn’t expected you to spot him in that moment, but maybe you had seen him from the very beginning and had only waited until now to acknowledge him.

You weren’t surprised to see him here, you had heard that BTS was in town and since he had tried to contact you for so long after your break-up, you had assumed that he'd come by.

But you were still composed, were smiling at him, very softly, actually. Something that he hadn’t expected, “I forgive you.”

When you closed your book and signaled the crowd that the reading was over, everyone got up and clapped, but you still stared at Yoongi.

You meant what you said.

You were done being angry and disappointed. You had grown as a person and had decided that you'd rather spend your days surrounding yourself with things and people that made you happy, than hold a grudge over people from the past, that including Yoongi.

People started to line up after the reading was done for the signing of your books that came afterwards. Many of the ones that came told you just how much your book had helped them on their journeys, knowing that they weren't alone and that this feeling of hopelessness would go away once they realized they were so strong and just how much stronger they could be for their child.

It took a while, but eventually, the room started to clear, until there was only one more person, still standing at the same exact spot as before.

“Uh.. do you want me to..-?” your agent asked, but you shook your head.

“It’s alright. I will see at the office tomorrow.”

She hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded and walked away. Whoever this person was, the way you looked at him made her believe that you two had a lot to discuss.

You took a few deep breaths to prepare yourself for what was coming, then you got up and walked over to him, smiling as softly as before, “It's been a few years, hasn't it?”

“Three years, two months and one week,” he said without having to think twice about it. He remembered when he made the biggest mistake of his life.

He would forever remember that day.

You watched him for a moment, cocking your head to the side, before your smile dropped, “I wish I could say you look good, but.. you don’t, Yoongi.”

“You do,” Yoongi nodded, “You always did.”

You brushed over your dress, almost lovingly, before you said: “Thank you.”

Yoongi had so many questions and so many things to say and ask, but the most pressing thing was: “Is.. she here?”

“No. She's with my mother.”

His shoulders dropped in disappointment, “Ah.. I see.”

You knew that he regretted his decision, despite never having read his messages since you had blocked his number soon after the break-up and then having gotten another number altogether. But your friends had told you about how often he stopped by their places in hopes of you being there or them telling him about you and your daughter.

“I've worked very hard for the last years, Yoongi. To raise my child, but also to become the woman that I am today. I've grown. And I've.. been thinking a lot. What I said before, about me forgiving you. I mean that.”

“Why, though?” it’s not like he deserved it.

“Because even after everything that happened between us... you gave me the most beautiful gift I could have asked for. And if I had to go through all that pain again, just to hold her in my arms eventually, I would.”

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, pressing his eyes shut before more tears could escape them, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“Don’t be,” you put your hand on his shoulder and waited for him to look at you, before you said: “I’m happy now, Yoongi. We both are. What’s done is done and there’s nothing we can do to change it.”

You didn’t say anything else after that, just gave him one last smile before disappearing.

At first he thought about running after you, but you had forgiven him and that is much more than he deserved. He couldn’t really ask for anything else, could he?

But someone else? Maybe.

Two days later, Yoongi was packing up his suitcase, ready to fly back to Seoul to return to his daily routine, when someone entered his hotel room.

“Hey hyung,” Namjoon smiled a little, “You got a second?”

“Almost ready,” Yoongi said in a small voice.

“Yeah, about that,” Namjoon opened up his suitcase again when Yoongi had closed it and pressed something into his hands, making sure he was holding whatever it was tightly, “Why don't you take a few more days off to relax? I think this city would do you some good.”

And with a wink, he left, Yoongi spotting Hoseok leaning against the doorframe, smiling encouragingly at Yoongi 

He didn't know what he meant. It was only when he unfolded the piece of paper that his legs gave in and he had to sit down for a moment.

“Namjoon?” your eyes widened, a huge smile spreading on your lips as you embraced him without thinking twice, “What are you doing here? And Hoseok too? You guys!”

“Hoseok hyung told me.. well.. everything. We wanted to hear your story and wanted to apologize for everything. If we had known sooner, maybe we could have helped.”

“No, don't blame yourselves. Yoongi is his own person, he made that decision himself.”

“That.. is actually another thing that we wanted to talk to you about,” Hoseok sighed heavily, “We would never ask you to give him another chance, not after everything. But.. would it be too much to ask you to let him meet her? Just... once?”

That question caught you off-guard, Namjoon quickly adding: “You can say no if you're uncomfortable with it, of course!”

It was something that you had thought about a lot over the course of the last years. Would it be so bad if he met her? Just once? Or if you sent him a picture of her, at least? If not for his sake, then for hers? You were raising her on your own and you didn’t need a man to help you, but the older she got, the more questions she had about why she didn’t have a dad.

If he really had changed..-

You were quiet for a long time, before saying: “I promised myself I would never let him see her when he walked out that day. But the older I get and the older she gets, the more I think about it... if it really were so bad if he met her just once.. if maybe they could have a relationship, even when we couldn't.”

“It's your decision just how far you want this to go, we're just asking you for letting him meet her once.. just to see her face, so he doesn't have to imagine it anymore.”

With the piece of paper in which your address was scribbled on clutched tightly in his hand, Yoongi pressed the doorbell with a shaking hand, his breathing uneven and his legs wobbly.

He didn't know what to expect. Three hours ago, he hadn't expected any of this to happen, so now he wasn't able to wrap his mind around it that it was actually happening. That he would meet the girl that was on his mind constantly for the last three years.

Once again, he was face to face with you, the one he called the love of his life once.

And a moment later a little girl squeezed herself through your legs, looking at him with the same eyes that he found himself looking at when he looked in the mirror, only a lot more alive and happier.

“Hello, mister. I'm Dae!” she introduced herself without hesitation and a beaming smile.

Yoongi couldn't help but let out a happy laugh, all the tension easing for a moment.

What would happen after today? Only time could tell. But for today, you would let them have this. And maybe you did this as much for him as you did for yourself.

To finally find real closure to all this.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

[xavadak3davrax]

First Time I Saw You / Fred Weasley

Pairing: Prince Fred Weasley x Fem Reader 

Warnings: None i think? But please let me know if it should have some, this is my first ever post on tumblr and so i’m new to this. This is not 18+, it’s just fluff, but if i ever write some more of  this it might. 

Summury: For anyone who’s lost this is gonna be Prince!Fred. I’ve had this idea laying around for a while and i started reading more of Fred and George last year and ever since i’m hooked. This is just really for fun and if no one sees this, oh well :) 

Taglist: @manuosorioh​ @itsbebeyyy

PART 2   PART 3.

______________________________________________________________

When Fred was born everything was handed to him. Being born into royalty means being born into wealth and gold. His childhood was filled with the most amazing memories, someone could ever dream of.

When Fred was older his father started to plant ideas in his head of what he should become so he could be a good, considerate ruler. It wasn’t difficult Fred was made to rule. With his spiky red hair, tall figure and lanky body combined with a strong very dominant but also kind personality Fred was everything his subjects wished for in a king.

Unfortunately for him with the idea of soon becoming king came the responsibility of marriage. Finding someone fit who could rule beside him. His father had always taught him, from a very young age that a king without a queen was weak and no fit ruler. Fred’s mother was the most amazing person he ever met, she was the one who taught him to be kind and selfless. She was the one who showed him how to be closer to their subjects and listen to them.

But Fred found himself not wanting someone beside him. Fred was never one to follow the rules. So of course, he’s had his fare share of bed sharing. He was no stranger to sex, he loved the idea of no attachments, specially when you belonged to the royal family. That is why the idea of being attached to someone forever scared him the most. No less someone who would also be royalty.

The morning everything changed for him, the day was bright, the sun was high in the sky and there were no clouds on the horizon. It was a rare sight to see, that being everything was always cloudy and rainy. It was very rare they got any good days.

Like always he got up from his bed, naked and very sleepy he stared around for a few seconds trying to adjust to the brightness. Lazily he then moved throughout his chambers until he could find something that could cover his body. When he finally found his boxers and a white large buttoned-down shirt he finally moved to his private bathroom where he tried to make himself look half presentable. Today was an important day to him, he could go down to town and lounge and hang around for a bit since today was one of the only days this week where he didn’t have responsibilities as Prince Fred. Today he would just be Fred. Not born into royalty.

So, he got dressed, and decided to not stop by for breakfast with his family because his dad would most likely advise him not to go to town and would not allow him if he knew he would go by himself. So he sneak out of the castle through the passages he knew so well and made his away to the market in town where he would eat something.

This was something he did since he was very young so people there knew him for his genuine self, Fred, and Fred only. Not The Fred Weasley.

Humming to himself some song he had heard the night before at dinner he made his way through the market waving lazily ate everyone who cared to say something. If his father was there that probably wouldn’t be the casa and everyone would hurry to bow at his arrival, but Fred Weasley was different and had no intention of being made superior. He just wanted to be normal when he was there.

Starting to think of a million other stuff that clearly weren’t related to royalty he didn’t even notice where he was going until something hit against something soft and followed by a not so soft bang and a soft honeyed voice saying “ow”.

Fred immediately stopped in his tracks and his eye line followed the sound that he just heard. His eyes met a young girl, who’s dress was clearly very old and was probably a hand me down from someone in her family. Her hair was now a little messy from her hand rambling through it, probably in pain and she had her eyes slightly closed. “I am so very sorry miss.” Fred said almost quietly not wanting to attract any more attention to the situation happening around him.

“It’s ok, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Her voice came out in almost a whisper, Fred was sure he was the only one o listened to it. She finally opened her eyes a littler better and looked up to finally face the men who she had bumped to. If it weren’t for the little pain she had from hitting the ground she would be up and bowing in a second. After all the Prince himself was in front of her. “Your Highness… I-“ She stammered a little bit not being able to find the word. She breath in and then out trying to compose herself and finally gave herself a chance at trying to get up.

In a second Fred had his hands stretched out for her, and although it took her a few seconds to grab onto them she eventually did and was soon on her feet again.

“I’m really sorry for what just happened. I clearly didn’t’ see where I was going, I should’ve… but I had…” She stopped mid-sentence when she figured she was just rambling at this point.

“No apologies please, it was my fault I was lost in thought and should’ve paid attention to where I was going. I’m sorry miss…” He was looking straight into her eyes and she felt her knees buckle a little to the simple, but also not so simple fact that she was face to face with the Prince. Soon to be king but she didn’t want to give it much thought or she was sure she would end up on the ground again.

“y/n, your highness” She said in what she would expect not be a small voice. She wanted to keep her true self intact. A strong independent women who although had been born into poverty, was extremely hardworking and was proud of her family for always trying to do what was better. She had started working from a very young age and had accomplished so much (or had much had you could in her place).

“None sense y/n, no your highness. Fred will do just fine” He tried to give her a smile. Not that he didn’t want to, but he was also somehow scared of how to act. He never really found himself in a situation like this. He was always very outgoing and social so this was a first for him. “As an apology please let me help you” He further instructed, his eyes meting the basked that was now one ground, almost everything inside of it was now sprawled on the ground.

“I couldn’t let you. Thank you for the gesture but I should go on my way now” She said, even though the very much knew that she still had to pick everything from the ground. “Your highness should go on your way now, Your day is probably very busy” She tried once again, and as politely as she could, to dismiss him. She didn’t want to sound disrespectful, but he made her nervous. Not only from the fact that he was royalty but also because he was extremely attractive. Could she ever pretend that every girl of her age and not only that was clearly head over heals attracted to him? She was trying right now.

Before he even tried again, Fred was on his knees before her picking everything that had spilled from the basket “Was this for sale?” He asked while picking the objects up and looking for a moment when he saw her kneel beside him to pick up some of the items to.

“Yes. My parents are waiting for me to sell this items. Or well what we can get from the one who are not ruined.” She tried to laugh a little while one of the broken objects was in her hand.

“I will have every item replaced, broken or not. You will lead me to your parents stand where I will apologize personally for the damage I caused. And I promise that by tomorrow they will be replaced. “ Fred’s voice came out in a way where very rarely people heard. It was his command voice, usually only came out in the privacy of his bedroom, but she didn’t need to know that. He wanted to make sure he was clear and that she understood that she should not contradict him.

“That is very, very generous of you and I should not ask, or am I even deserving of such generosity your grace.” With every item finally in the basket she picked it up, also at the same time Fred picked it and she felt the very warm and soft skin of his hands touch hers. She could have sworn that a chill ran down her spine and had made her legs tremble. Imagine if she would’ve fallen again only because the Prince touched her, and he hadn’t done it on purpose.

“You are not asking, I am offering. Now please if you would lead the way.” He said, trying to sound normal but his own voice almost betrayed him, since it trembled a little, because he had also felt her soft touch. His hands left the bast and he stretched one of his arms to give her passage. She almost silently passed trough him and onto the direction she was making twenty minutes ago.

When she approached her parents stand she felt their eyes budge up and almost instantly where the bowing for him. She knew from there that her parents were to say yes to anything he offered. They loved the crown, never had they felt mistreated by it, and they always felt like they did the best they could to give the ones who had nothing a little more. Y/n knew better than that but she never contradicted her parents.

So Fred explained the best he could and trying not to make it tedious what he had done and why was he there to apologize in person. And when her parents went back to work, because customers where approaching they never pressed her to start working, since she was still being watched by the prince.

“Once again I’m really sorry about this.” Fred started but was, he would say rudely, interrupted by the big clock that was now announcing his return to the palace. “I have to go, but I will be back.” Why had he said that? He didn’t really know, but he knew he needed to say it. Somehow he needed her to know that that wouldn’t be the last she would hear of him.

So he left immediately after that and not even letting her respond. She was left there, perplexed, with the smell of Fred Weasley invading her nostrils, and her thoughts consumed by him, his face, his voice, his touch, his sympathy. Everything. She was left to something she never thought she would go through. Figuring out if the small crush the had on the prince wouldn’t be something more. Could it be? He was high up next to the gods, and she was not, nor did she ever thought she would be. She wanted to make her brain know that they would never stand a chance with the future king, but dreaming never hurt anybody right?