#plaster powder bath

[kanehopkins]

Transitional Home Office in Houston Large transitional freestanding desk medium tone wood floor and brown floor study room photo with gray walls

[yudori]

Open Houston Family room: large transitional open concept family room idea with gray walls, a brick fireplace, a standard fireplace, and a tv stand.

[napleonsolo]

Living Room Formal Houston An illustration of a mid-sized transitional formal living room with gray walls and a medium tone wood floor.

[cumbersir]

Houston Dining Room Enclosed Idea for an enclosed dining room with a large transitional light wood floor and a brown floor and gray walls

[editorsdecisionlist]

Transitional Family Room Houston Inspiration for a large transitional open concept light wood floor and brown floor family room remodel with gray walls, a standard fireplace, a brick fireplace and a tv stand

[wearetatal]

Transitional Kitchen Example of a large transitional l-shaped light wood floor and brown floor eat-in kitchen design with a farmhouse sink, recessed-panel cabinets, light wood cabinets, marble countertops, white backsplash, ceramic backsplash, paneled appliances, an island and black countertops

[legendasalvatoris]

Transitional Family Room (Houston)

[glassclosetcastiel]

Transitional Entry - Mudroom Gray walls and mid-sized transitional wallpaper in the mudroom

[what-should-we-call-1d]

Houston Transitional Family Room Example of a large transitional enclosed family room design with gray walls

[kid-crayon]

Transitional Entry - Mudroom Gray walls and mid-sized transitional wallpaper in the mudroom

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Puppy Fight: Chaggie ft. Emily

Puppy Love part 3 / Jazzercise part 2

Charlie: (hyping herself up and shadow boxing as she walks into the new hotel gym) Alright! I got this! I've been working on my cardio. Just a few more sessions before- *SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!!*

Vaggie: (wearing even shorter spandex shorts than last time, wrist wraps, and her sports bra, grunting as she works through a set of Muscle Ups, body absolutely slick with sweat) Eighteen!!!..... Gah, fuck! .......Nineteen!!!

Emily: (hair tied up in a messy bun, powder blue, long sleeve, skin tight exercise shirt, and navy blue shorts that cut off just below her glutes) Come on, Vaggie! You got this! One more!

Vaggie: (takes a deep breath, scowls as she grits her teeth, and nearly roars as she muscles her way up and over the bar into a full extension) Twenty!!!

Emily: (jumps and squeals excitedly) Woohoo! You did it! (makes another check on a whiteboard) That's three rounds of twenty muscle ups, fifty mountain climbers, and 100 jump-ropes!

Vaggie: (drops to the floor with a sigh, wipes her face with her black sweat rag, and takes a drink of water) Thanks for helping me push through, Emily. I was kind of surprised you even showed up. Charlie didn't have another group exercise planned for a couple more days when the next meeting with Heaven came up.

Emily: (staring bashfully at Vaggie's muscles) Oh! Well, you know! I figured it would be good to come down early! You know. Catch up with Charlie. (eyes scour over Vaggie's abs and shoulders) See the sights.

Vaggie: (suddenly feeling a little naked) Riiiiiiiiight.... Well, I'm gonna go hit the showers. Thanks again for the help. (quickly jogs towards the door and stops as she sees Charlie) Hey, Babe! I didn't know you were going to be working out today. You should have said something. I would have waited for you. (shifts her eye back at Emily)

Emily: (awkwardly looks around to make sure she isn't being watched before she sneakily takes the sweat rag Vaggie left behind)

Vaggie: (whispering back to Charlie with a slight blush and a wink) We could have shared a shower after.

Charlie: (heart throbs painfully) Dammit! How did I not think of that before now?!

Vaggie: (chuckles before kissing Charlie lightly on the cheek) Another time. I'll be sure to save you some hot water. Love you. (slips through the door and jogs up to their room)

Charlie: Love you too~ (eyes dart to Emily as soon as the door closes and she zips over to the pull up bars with a smile painfully plastered on her face) Hi, Emily!

Emily: Yipe! (jumps and hides Vaggie's rag behind her back) Oh! H-Hi, Charlie! H-How are you?

Charlie: I'm good. I'm good. (obviously not good as her tail slithers along the floor behind her like a snake ready to strike) I wasn't expecting to see you for a few days.

Emily: Oh! Yeah, well, l-like I told Vaggie. I figured I'd come down a little early so we could catch up!

Charlie: (sickly sweet tone) Well, what better way to catch up and build a bond than by exercising together?! (wraps an arm around Emily's shoulder tightly and leads her over to the treadmills) How about it, Emily? I'm sure you guys up in Heaven exercise all the time!

Emily: (balks) Actually, Charlie, I'm suddenly not feeling the greatest. I think I got teleportation sickness.

Charlie: Then a light jog should help you get that good airflow that you need. (pushes Emily on a treadmill and takes the one right next to her before turning them both on and ramping up the incline and speed to 5/10 and 6/10) This should be a good warmup, right?

Emily: eeep!

-Later-

Charlie: (sitting and soaking her dead legs in an ice bath with a whine-growl)

Vaggie: (brings in a protein shake and hands it to Charlie) And what did we learn?

Charlie: (growling and baring her teeth like an angry puppy as she takes the shake) To mark every last inch of your skin the week Emily arrives. (all sad and sappy) She's still my friend! (back to snarling as she takes a sip of her drink) But she needs to remember that you're MINE!!!

Vaggie: (blushing) ......Did I completely miss something?

-In one of the guest rooms-

Emily: (whimpering as she soaks her noodle legs in a hot bath) Owie.... (stares at the sweat rag on the bathroom sink) ......*sigh* Worth it. I'll have to apologize to Charlie later. I think she liked those rainbow sprinkles back in Heaven.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Dean's Haunted Mansion in Fort Gaines, GA is back on the market. It was originally available with everything in it, plus a hearse. It didn't sell, so they cleaned it up, took all the spooky things out, and are selling it as a house. The 1900 home has 6bds, 4ba, and it's been reduced from $400K to $290K.

They still have the hearse, all the props and a trailer, so they're available to purchase separately, should the new owner want to keep it as a haunted house attraction or haunted B&B.

This is what the home used to look like before they turned it into a haunted attraction.

They emptied it, but left it as-is. Why do I have the feeling that this home was beautifully kept inside. I mean, look at the how the exterior was.

Oddly, this powder room has a fireplace. I don't think it was originally a bathroom.

It looks like it was a stick Victorian. Look at this fireplace. It's going to take some work to restore it. Looks like they put some plaster on the wall to the left.

This looks like a bedroom.

Found some photos from the original listing: This is how the house looked. They had a haunted doll room in one of the bedrooms.

If this was the kitchen, it's been torn out to make this room, and it's not shown on the listing. So, it would take a lot to restore the house, if it needs a kitchen.

"A new relic for the Mansion, 1800s wheelchair from a Sanitarium in Indiana. Previous owner says it has a spirit attachment, and believe a man died in the chair, for they see him time to time slumped over staring at them, not moving no expression just staring!" (From 2021.)

Also part of the collection: "That sconce on the wall there was just found deep in the woods. The scary thing is the haunting energy rolling off this Mirror/Sconce. Mirrors act as portals, and this one inside this Gothic Vessel of Hauntedness is absolutely a doorway for the other side!," said Dean.

"A new set I designed inside Dean's Haunted Mansion for the 2022 Haunt Season." All of this would be available to buy.

Here's a full bath that's very vintage.

And, this bedroom is cute.

Props include things that they redid, like this hand.

The large 2nd fl. front porch.

.83 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/106-Washington-St-N-Fort-Gaines-GA-39851/105187323_zpid/

[charliemwrites]

could we please get some sweet Gaz fluff/comfort like scientist is too exhausted to shower after a long day so Gaz joins her and cleans her instead, washing her hair, etc while she stands there half asleep

Yes I can! I think this is something that happens often for them.

(Also - not that you’ve offended me or anything - but I’ve been using ‘they’ for the researcher out of inclusivity. That said! If you see researcher/yourself with she/her pronouns, that’s so so valid. I’ll just be a writing using they/them)

They’ve been awake for going on 29? 30? Hours. Too long. Way too long. Gaz couldn’t even pull them away because it was a big project that the brass was putting a lot of pressure on getting down. Final tests are finished now though, and he’s finally able to pry them away from the lab.

He takes them to their room, wishes he could just send them to bed right away. But they’re covered in gun powder, ash, pen ink, metal dust and..,, he shudders to think of what else. But they’ll need to bathe before climbing in. They hate feeling dirty when they wake up.

“Tired,” they groan, leaning into him.

“I know, chickadee. Just this last thing…”

Getting them to their tiny bathroom is its own struggle but they look genuinely miserable about trying to clean themselves up. Gaz scritches a hand through their oily, dirty hair.

“You mind if I help?”

They look up at him with stars in their eyes. “Please do.”

He’s careful and respectful as he strips them down, half holding them up as they lean into him. He gets the water right and carefully guides them in. Lets them get their footing, then strips himself down.

They make grabby hands at him, plaster themselves to his front with a happy little sigh. “Tired,” they mumble again.

“I know, luv,” he replies, “almost down.”

They’re blessedly pliant as he soaps their hair and scrubs them down. Usually showers are a perfunctory thing they do as quickly as possible to get to the next thing - either sleep or more work (or sometimes private time with Gaz). Right now, though, he’s able to take a little extra time to press his thumbs into the tense muscles of their neck, the tired tendons in their clever hands, the exhausted muscles in their lower back.

They make little sleepy noises of appreciation, eyes barely open as they nearly slip off him. Gaz doesn’t even bother with himself. All he’s down the last two days is stand nearby and try to remind them to eat and drink. All the brushing up against him that they’re doing is plenty.

They stir a bit when the water turns off, mumbling his name.

“‘S alright chickadee,” he murmurs, helping them out. “Just gotta get you dried off.”

They hum, rub at their overworked eyes. “You staying?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Mhmm.”

He gently buffers them dry, drops kisses here and there while they sway on their feet. Good enough, he thinks when they start to list to the side.

He tucks them in together, lets them burrow in against his side and wrap their limbs around his.

“Love you, Ky,” the mumble.

His heart skips. “Love you too.”

[maddiwrites]

The Daughter

Summary: Enemies to lovers, Weasley x Lestrange. Linked is a more descriptive summary with author's notes (: Warnings: None Chapter One can be found here.

Chapter Two: Fred lounged on the couch by the bookshelf in the Gryffindor Common Room, tossing a hacky sack over his head lazily. He was surrounded by his siblings George, Ron, and Ginny, his best friend, Lee Jordan, and Ron’s friends Harry and Hermione.

Hermione was trying to cheer Harry up after being teased by Draco and his idiot friends who follow him around like a bunch of groupies. Harry was already embarrassed about fainting in front of his friends, and he couldn’t stand the idea of the other students at Hogwarts knowing about it. Especially the Slytherins.

“Harry, you heard Professor Dumbledore. You’re lucky you got off with only fainting,” Hermione said, rubbing her best friend’s back. “It could have been much worse.”

“Yeah, but Malfoy won’t ever see it that way,” Harry scowled. 

“Malfoy’s a git,” Ron said with a mouthful of chocolate frogs he stole from the Great Hall. “Hey, who was that girl who told him quit it?”

Fred sat up. “That would be Kyrie Lestrange. She’s in our year and an even bigger tyrant than her cousin, Malfoy.”

“They’re cousins?” Ron asked. 

“Yeah, haven’t you heard of her mother?” George said. When he read the confused faces of the kids in front of him, he grinned. “Her name is Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the most loyal followers of You-Know-Who. She’s locked up in Azkaban with the other psycho Death Eaters. If you think this Sirius Black guy is mad, who, by the way, is Bellatrix’s cousin, you should be lucky it’s not Lestrange’s face plastered all over the Daily Prophet.”

“Draco and Kyrie are both related to most violent murderers in Azkaban?” Hermione asked. 

“Correct, Granger,” Fred smirked at the bushy haired girl. He felt a certain kind of satisfaction when he was able to tell her something she didn’t know. Hermione was one of the smartest witches at Hogwarts. There wasn’t much that she didn’t already know. “Bet you never get tired of hearing that.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out at the boy she considered to be like an older brother to her. 

Harry’s brows furrowed and silently thought back to when he first met Kyrie Lestrange. It was when he first used floo powder to go to Diagon Alley to shop for this year’s books with the Weasleys. However, he somehow got rerouted to Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley, and he had no idea of the kind of dangers that lurked in that dark corner.

Knockturn Alley was dark and filled with people who looked like they haven’t smiled or seen the light of day in ten years. Harry genuinely felt scared in that part of town and his fear seemed to attract the wizards and witches who lurked there…who also haven’t seen a bath in ten years either. 

“Not lost are you are my dear,” A witch grabbed him by the collar, bringing him closer to her foul breath, her yellow teeth peeking out through her smirk. When he turned, he was cornered by five other witches and wizards. There was nowhere to run. That same witch grabbed his shoulder again. “Come with us. We’ll help you find your way back.”

“No,” Harry said weakly. 

He felt like he was on the verge of a heart attack when he heard his name.

“Harry, I’ve been looking for you.” A girl around his age with pink streaks in her hair descended the stairs of the alley. Harry didn’t recognize her he but in that moment, he couldn’t care less. He saw the way the witches and wizards stepped away from him as she got closer. There was a glint of excitement in her eyes, like she knew the effect that she had on these ghastly people. “I know you bums having nothing better to do than prey on little kids but at least be more subtle about it.” She looked back at the boy with a smile. “Come on Harry. I saw a group of red heads this way.”

Harry swallowed but nodded enthusiastically. He had about a dozen questions but didn’t know which one to ask first. 

When they were finally far enough away from the others, she said, “You know Harry, a boy like you stands out in Knockturn Alley. You should be more careful where you walk alone.”

“Who are you?”

The girl rolled her eyes playfully. “I think you mean to say ‘thank you.’”

“Right. Thanks.”

She grinned. “No problem. My name’s Kyrie.”

“Harry, but you already knew that.”

“Of course. Who in the wizarding world hasn’t heard of the infamous Harry Potter?” She said. Harry clenched his teeth. He was tired of everyone knowing who he was. He felt like a fish in fish bowl. “Look, we’ll keep this between us. Okay?”

“Why? You’re clearly a Slytherin,” Harry said, nodding towards the serpent embroidered on the notebook in her hands. “You know I’m in Gryffindor. You’re not going to tell anyone to embarrass me?”

“No, I won’t tell. Scouts honor,” Kyrie held up her hand. “Besides, I already have enough Gryffindors on my list to waste my time with. I don’t feel the need to add another one, honestly.”

“Harry!” A deep voice called from behind her. They both turned and found the friendly Giant, Hagrid, trudging over to them. They were still close enough to Knockturn Alley to cause suspicion and Hagrid was smarter than most people made him out to be. “What are you doing over here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I got lost. I was just –“

“Harry saw me with those group of losers and noticed how uncomfortable I was, so he helped me out of there. That’s all,” Kyrie said.

Hagrid narrowed his eyes. “And what were you doing down there?”

“Window shopping,” She shrugged and winked at the Giant. “I should go. It was nice meeting you, Harry.”

Kyrie walked away. 

Hagrid waited for her to disappear completely when Hagrid said, “You don’t want to be seen in Knockturn Alley, Harry. People will think you’re up to no good.”

“I was –“

“I know you didn’t find Kyrie, Harry. Kyrie found you. Isn’t that right?” Hagrid said. Harry looked at his shoes feeling embarrassed. “I know that girl better than she thinks I do. It doesn’t take much to scare her, especially not those kinds of people who hang out down there. It was sweet of her to try and convince me otherwise, though.”

Yeah, Harry thought, it was sweet. 

Harry didn’t understand why the girl he met in Knockturn Alley sounded so different than the one the twins were describing now. Especially now that he knew she shared the same DNA as Draco Malfoy.

Despite his curiosity, he decided to keep his encounter with Kyrie Lestrange to himself. Today was a long day between traveling back to Hogwarts and trying to avoid the Dementors. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his time talking about the Slytherins. 

Fred, however, noticed Harry’s blank gaze, clearly distracted by something running through his mind, and he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. “Where’d you just go, Harry?”

“Huh? Nowhere?” Harry hid his reddened cheeks in his hand. 

“Are you gonna be okay, Harry?” Hermione asked, standing up.

Harry nodded.

“Come on, Fred. We’ve got a little more brainstorming to do. We don’t want our first week to be dull now, do we?” George said with a teasing smirk.

Lee laughed, clapping his hands in excitement, and the three of them disappeared into their dorms, where a list of pranks was already being comprised.

Fred and George walked into the dungeons where their Potions class was held every year. Most of their classmates were already seated with their choice in Potions partners, whispering softly amongst themselves. 

George tapped Fred on the arm and pointed to two seats on the right-hand side of the classroom. They were in the third row, which for the twins, wasn’t ideal, but if they wanted to be partners, it was going to have to do. The only other option was the two seats on the left-hand side, but that’s where all the Slytherins were sitting, and they would rather stand for the entire lesson than be anywhere near those gits. 

About a minute later, Kyrie Lestrange and her best friend Cedrella Copplestone walked in arm in arm. Fred couldn’t help but notice how most heads turned their way. The boys in the class smirked and bumped shoulders with one another while the girls either looked on with envy or intimidation.

It wasn’t any secret that Lestrange and her girl friends were some of the most attractive females in their year. Hell, possibly in the whole school. Like most of the boys here, Fred fell victim to trailing Lestrange’s legs up to her shorter-than-was-allowed skirt, images that he would never dare to share flashing through his head. He’s heard the crude comments other have made, which made Fred realize pretty early on that he wasn’t the only one with those images in his head. 

But despite her extraordinary good looks, Lestrange was still…Lestrange. Conceited, bold, rude, manipulative, and provoking… And her friends were no different. 

“Hey,” Cedric Diggory, a fifth year Hufflepuff, waved to Kyrie and Cedrella. “Over here.”

Kyrie smirked and sat in the aisle seat of the table next to Cedric’s and his partner, Justin Gilbert. 

Fred and George scoffed at the interaction, mostly because they liked Cedric, and they didn’t want him falling into the trap of Kyrie Lestrange and her groupies. 

“How was your summer?” Cedric asked her. 

Kyrie leaned in closer with her elbows on her table. “Mundane.” She replied. She didn’t see her best friend roll her eyes behind her. “And yours? Practicing for quidditch I presume?” Her eyes scanned over Cedric’s upper body. His jawline was sharper, his hair longer, and his arms more toned. Cedric was older for his grade with his birthday falling on September 1st. The first day of school year. So he was already seventeen. And for some reason, that made him even more desirable to the Slytherin girl. 

“Mundane, huh Lestrange?” Fred said from across the room, catching the attention of every other student in the class. He leaned back in the stool he was sitting with a smirk and his arms crossed. “I’d hardly find helping your Dear ‘Ol Uncle Black escape Azkaban mundane.”

Kyrie narrowed her eyes. “Weasley, you never seem to surprise me. Just when I thought your brain couldn’t be any smaller…”

“I mean it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Fred said, the faces around him turning from intrigued to apprehensive. “Why else would he escape if he didn’t already have a plan to reunite with his family and finish what he started – what with You-Know-Who’s name becoming a common topic of conversation again amongst your kind.” 

“Maybe because it’s Azkaban, you git. No one wants to be there,” Kyrie retorted.

Fred’s smirk grew, knowing he was getting under her skin. “Well, you would know that better than anyone else, wouldn’t you, Lestrange?”

“Yeah, rumor has it you’re the first witch to be granted a visiting pass into Azkaban. Tell me, does she look as awful as her mug shot picture? Is she as crazy as everyone says?” George added earning a chuckle from Fred. 

Fred watched Kyrie’s jaw sharpen as she clenched her teeth together. Next to her, Cedric kept his head down, avoiding looking at both the twins and Kyrie, suddenly finding the quill in front of him very fascinating. He was never one for confrontation unless absolutely necessary. Much like the rest of Hufflepuffs, he kept to himself, and avoided the ongoing feud between Gryffindors and Slytherins like the plague.

Cedrella leaned in closer to her best friend and glared at the ginger twins. “If her family was going to break anyone out of Azkaban, why would they start with Sirius and not her own mother?” 

“Maybe that’s their next move,” A Gryffindor sitting behind the twins said. 

“You better hope it’s not,” Cedrella said. “I heard Blood Traitors were her favorite –“

The Weasley twins jumped out of their seats, and Cedrella and Kyrie were quick to follow, stools scraping on the concrete floor. Instantly, the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherin students stood at their desks. The houses were divided on opposite ends of the room. In the middle sat the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaw students, who looked around warily, unsure if they should get out of the way or stay seated. 

Fred felt his blood boiling under his pale skin, his hand reaching for his wand in his pocket. He was used to Slytherins using his family against him, but it was mostly about their lack of money or his father’s obsession with muggle objects and inventions.

It was hard to get a reaction like this out of the twins, but when threats are made against their family…they’re ready to become lethal.

Cedric was the first non Gryffindor or Slytherin to stand. He turned to face Kyrie and lightly placed a hand on her arm, “Don’t. It’s not worth it.” He looked down and saw how white her knuckles were around her wand. 

“Sit. Down. Now,” A deep voice vibrated from the back of the room. No one moved an inch and no one took their eyes off the opposing house. “I said now!” White light flashed in the dark room and an abrupt force pushed the students in their seat, turning them forward. 

The students grunted and rubbed their stomachs and backs to ease the sharp pressure they had just felt.

“Typical Gryffindors. Nothing but a bunch of big mouths,” Cedrella muttered. 

Fred didn’t pay any attention to the lecture Professor Snape was giving about the importance of O.W.Ls and how he won’t accept anyone into Advance Potions next year without an Outstanding score. Instead, he was thinking of all the ways he was going to hex the Slytherins, focusing mostly on Lestrange and her friends. With the scowl on his brother’s face, Fred assumed George was thinking the same thing. 

“For next lesson, I want a detailed written essay about the potion you would use against your enemy, why you would choose that one, and what will go wrong when you inevitably concoct it incorrectly,” Snape said in his nasally voice, already laced with disappointment on the first day. 

At the mention of the word enemy, Kyrie and Fred looked up at each other, eyes narrowed in a glare. Then, a small grin tugged on the corners of Kyrie’s face and she had the audacity to wink at him, because she knew exactly what to do to drive him mad with irritation, always acting like she had the upper hand in their confrontations, pretending like she couldn’t be bothered by the insults that were constantly being thrown her way. 

And it worked every time. 

“Class dismissed,” Snape said. 

Fred didn’t even bother placing his books back into his bag. He just scooped everything into his arms, prepared to confront Lestrange again before she could disappear into the Slytherin Common Room, but Snape’s voice stopped him. 

“Miss Lestrange. A moment.” 

Fred glanced back at her, but the confusion written on her face made it clear that even Kyrie didn’t have an idea what it was that Snape wanted to discuss. She whispered something to her best friend, who walked out with a couple of other Slytherin students. 

“C’mon,” George said. “She’s not worth it.”

George looked her up and down in disgust as Kyrie passed them to meet Snape at his desk. Fred nodded and followed his brother out. 

Fred and George spent their night hexing the bathrooms near the Slytherin Common Room, causing the toilets to explode right before curfew. It wasn’t their most creative prank. In fact, they’ve done it once before in their first year at Hogwarts. But they were both so angry after Potions that it was the best they could come up with on such short notice. 

Despite their successful prank, Fred was still feeling sour after his encounter with the Slytherins during Potions. The threat Cedrella made still didn’t sit right with him, and Kyrie…Merlin he hated Kyrie. She was a self-absorbed cruel little brat. With her attitude, she was destined to take just after her mother – maybe even follow in her footsteps and share a cell in Azkaban.

“Look, she’s not worth all this energy, mate,” Lee said as they hung out in their dorms. “If you’re going to think about her this much, at least think of her…naked or something. Now, that doesn’t seem like a waste of time.”

Fred pulled his pillow out from under his head and chucked it at his best friend. 

“Not including the naked thing…” George said, walking from his desk to sit on the edge of his own bed, “but Lee is right. You can’t let her ruin our fifth year – at least not within the first week.”

“She threatened our family, George,” Fred sat up, glaring at his brother.

“Cedrella threatened our family with Bellatrix.”

“You’re seriously washing this over with semantics?”

“Of course not,” George said. “For all we know, Kyrie is gonna grow up to be just like her mother. But that girl is a lame excuse to attend all your thoughts to.”

“Unless you’re picturing her naked,” Lee said. 

George closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. 

Fred rolled his eyes. “What do you supposed Snape wanted to talk to her about, anyway?” 

“He was probably telling her what to write her essay on. Everyone knows Snape gives extra attention to the Slytherins,” George said with a shrug. 

[farity]

To Forgive, Divine, part 1

Pairing: Modern AU Aemond Targaryen x you

Summary:  You and Aemond have history together.  And history tends to repeat itself.

Warnings: Smut.

(Pic is an edit by the incomparable @kyloremus​ )

“A year for the record books, surely!”  You smiled at the audience filling the ballroom.  The good thing about being chairperson of the event was that you commanded the pace of the evening, and you had moved things smoothly along at a brisk pace, and after this last award, you could go home, enjoy a quiet dinner, take a long hot bath, and still have time to catch up on your shows before going to sleep.  

“Borros Baratheon is, unfortunately, not here to receive this last award, but in his stead . . . “

You pulled out the slip from the envelope, containing the name of the colleague Borros had chosen at the last minute, to pick up the award instead of him.

“ . . . his colleague and co-chair of the foundation . . . “  You looked down at the name.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

“Aemond Targaryen.”

You hadn’t seen him here.  You’d looked at everyone sitting in the gold Chivari chairs and had not seen him.  Maybe he wasn’t here.  You could take the award and just-

A tall man was walking toward you from the side of the stage.  Taking his time.  

That fucking swagger of his.

Midnight blue suit, sapphire blue silk tie matching his shirt.  Silver hair knotted at the back of his neck, an errant lock falling down the side.  Who the fuck wore a man bun to this kind of event?  

You took a couple of steps back from the podium, clutching the stupid award in one hand.  Plastering a polite smile on your face, you looked at him.

God, he looked good.  

He caught your eye and that fucking smirk of him appeared as he slowly looked at you from your head to your stiletto-encased feet.  He took the award from you, his skin so warm as always, and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you say my name since I last made you come.”

You stood frozen as he smoothly stepped up to the podium, nodding at the applause, and began speaking.

Regaining your composure, you stepped to the side, where you would wait, like everyone else who had handed out an award, for him to be done with his speech so you could escort him back to have his picture taken.

Where you might plant one of your fucking heels into his good eye.

As soon as he was done speaking, you walked off, letting the main sponsor close the event.  You didn’t look back to see if Aemond was following you, although you had no doubt he was.  

Fucking asshole.

Why couldn’t he crawl back to the hellscape he’d come from?  Had his brother managed to go one day without a crisis, letting Aemond free from his usual babysitting duties?  

You went to the photographer setup, with the event background ready for the last photos of the day.  Your coat and bag were waiting there, just as you’d left them.  You’d walk away as he got his picture taken, you’d be in the safe refuge of your car, and soon you’d be driving down to the even safer refuge of your apartment, where a drawer filled with toys waited next to your bed.

“Sorry,” the photographer lady said.

“What is it, Sansa,”

“Ah, he’s requesting a photo with you, since you presented him with the award.”

The adorable redhead kept looking from you to somewhere past your shoulder, nodding and smiling.  

You’d been checking the proofs as each recipient had been photographed and she had done a great job, and yes, each person had posed with whoever had handed them their award.”

Fuck.

“Of course.”  You walked around to where the mirror was.  There was no need for any adjustment, you knew your makeup and hair were perfect, your dress looked impeccable.  Pulling out your bag, you made a show of powdering your nose, examining your lip gloss, patting the back of your hair.

You just wanted to make the asshole wait.

Finally, you walked to the background, where Aemond waited.  You wouldn’t look at him.  There was no need, all you had to do was stand next to him.  Easy enough.  Facing the camera, you were pleasantly surprised when he didn’t place a hand at your back.  At least he knew this was business and behaved accordingly.

Sansa took a picture, the flash nearly blinding you, and then Aemond said quietly, “I think this is the first time you’ve taken so long to come.”

Another flash went off, and with it, the last of your patience.  “Thank you, Sansa, that will be all.”  You turned on your heel and walked off, grabbing your bag and coat on your way out.

* * * * * 

She looked amazing.  

Three years since he had seen her in person.  Three years in which he had tried to forget her.  He’d drunk enough, fucked enough, traveled enough to forget his own name at times.  

But never hers.

The moment he had seen her on that stage it had hit him like a freight train.  He wanted her back.  He would do anything to get her back.  Right now he would do anything to sink his cock between her legs, her hands, her lips, whatever she would allow.  He’d do anything to taste her, any part of her.  Every part of her. 

He’d nearly bolted out of the ballroom but Baratheon would fucking flip if he did.  Borros had told him, pick up the award for me, say a few words, and you have my vote.  Aemond had shrugged and said, “no problem.”

And then he’d found out who was presenting.  And he had barely slept in the four days since.

He’d downed a glass of liquid courage before he walked onto that stage.  He felt rage, lust, sadness, all mixed up in his belly, swirling violently.  She’d broken his heart.  After he’d made it clear she wasn’t his first priority.  He looked back and couldn’t blame her, but it didn’t mean he was past it.

She looked happy and something had clawed inside him, he wanted that perfect smile gone, he wanted to know he could get to her, he wanted to know that she remembered every moment, like he did.  Did she replay the moments of their relationship in her head every night?  Did she wake up in the middle of the night dreaming of it?

So he’d gone and said what he’d said in her ear.  She’d frozen for a moment, and he’d wanted to shout victory!  I got to her! I threw her off her game!

He’d nearly run after her after whatever the hell he’d said at the podium.  She was already halfway down the hallway, that perfect ass making his hands itch.  He’d almost begged the really tall photographer - Susan? - to go get her to get a picture with her.  He’d seen the anger in her eyes when Susan had been talking to her but the smile had appeared and she’d gone and taken her sweet fucking time pretending to fix her lipstick or whatever.  Then she walked over to him, not once meeting his eye.

He’d gotten angry again, thinking she would once more just walk away and not give him another thought, so he’d made a new nasty comment.  There had been no reaction this time, she had simply turned on her killer heel - seriously, how did women not all have broken ankles? - after the last photo was taken, and walked off.  

Much to his chagrin, he almost ran after her.  Again.  

She wore a different perfume now.  Back then it was some sweet vanilla thing and Aegon had once made the comment that she smelled like Rice Krispies.  She had grabbed a throw pillow and smacked his brother on the head with it.  

He’d spent three years looking around whenever he’d smelled that perfume.  And now it turned out she had moved on to something else.  What a fucking perfect metaphor.  Was he going to have spent three years of his life pining after her just to find out she had a boyfriend, partner, whatever?  Nothing on her ring finger, he’d looked, but it didn’t mean anything these days.  Two of his best friends weren’t married or engaged but they’d been together longer than anyone else he knew.  They’d tried to set him up with half a dozen girls, including one who started the date by laughing that her phone kept autocorrecting his name to Almond.

Fuck it.

He raced down the hallway, catching a glimpse of her as she turned toward the garage and managed to catch up before she reached the door.  She turned, her forehead wrinkling when she realized it was him.

* * * * * 

What the fuck.

“What do you- hey!”  You’d turned when you’d heard the sound of footsteps running toward you, and found yourself being dragged into the utility closet by Aemond.  “What the hell?”

He fumbled around for the light switch, then kicked the door closed.  “You have nothing else to say to me?”

I love you.  I miss you.  I want you.

You smiled up at him, rage shimmering in your eyes, “doesn’t look like it.  I have to go.”

He blocked your way in the cramped space of the room.  

“Aemond,” you sighed.  “I have to go.”  He’d left his jacket somewhere and the blue silk of his shirt looked so fucking touchable.  If you pulled on that tie, you could bring him down to kiss him.  You stared at the button on his shirt, and then you felt his hand, gently cupping your cheek.  He murmured your name and you pushed him back.  “No!”

He didn’t move, didn’t say anything.

“What the hell are you doing here anyway?”  Why are you disturbing my peace?

“I work with Borros.”

You felt anger begin to stir inside you.  “Really?  Not babysitting anymore?  You are actually able to leave Aegon’s side these days?”

“Aegon’s matured.”

You laughed.  “Good for him.  Because all I remember is you dropping everything - and everyone - every time Aegon needed rescuing.”

He took a step, closing the distance between you.  “You know what I remember?” he murmured against your cheek, “I remember you, coming on my tongue.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“The taste of you flooding my mouth as I held you down because you couldn’t stop screaming my name.  That’s what I remember.”

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, all you could do was hold on, and hope for escape.  Before you touched him, before you kissed him.  Before the wall you had so carefully built around yourself came crashing down.

He pulled you against him, and you felt his desperation, his need.  “Tell me you’re not dying to get down on your knees right now.”

You reacted purely on instinct, but he grabbed your wrist a moment before your palm would have struck his face.  “Tell me.  Say it to my fucking face and I will open that door myself.”  He was so close, his breath on your lips.  

Your free hand grabbed the collar of his shirt.  “I fucking hate you.”

He nodded.  “I’ll take it.”

When he didn’t move, you did.  

Your mouth met his, demanding, bruising, and he immediately dropped your wrist, his hand moving to grab your ass, the other, raising the hem of your dress up to your waist.  You grabbed the end of his belt, pushed it through loops and metal until it sprang free, then went to work on the button and zipper of his trousers.

You felt your beautiful, expensive underwear being torn off, didn’t give it another thought as he hoisted you up onto a storage box.  You pushed down his pants and boxers, wrapped your legs around him.  

A moan escaped you as he sank into you.  “Fuck, yes,” he muttered, eye closed as he stilled for a moment.  You placed one of your hands on his chest, and he grabbed it, holding on to you as much as you were holding on to him.

He snapped his hips once, felt you flutter around him as you let your head fall back.  “Fuck, fuck,” he muttered again and began thrusting, reaching between your joined bodies to touch you, to push you over the edge before he came.  He knew your body so very well, he knew his fingertips swirling fast between your legs was one of your weaknesses, and before long, you felt the beginnings of a brutal orgasm.  

You fisted your free hand around the blue silk of his shirt, burying your face in his neck as it hit you, blinding and deafening you as you simply felt.  Aemond groaned as he reached his own release and held you to him, his heart beating in time with yours.

You came down from that blissful high to find him kissing your neck, slow and soft, and you wrapped your arms around him.  He murmured your name, the same way he used to do it before, and it was like a bucket of cold water on your head.  Aemond pulled out of you and you hastily rearranged your dress, grabbing the torn underwear he’d thrown to the side.  

“Sorry.”

He was zipping up his pants as you stuffed your underwear in your bag and slid past him.  

“Hey,” he said.

“I take full responsibility for my part in this, but I’m not going through this again.”

“Wait a minute,” he reached for you, but you were halfway out the door by then, your heart racing.

“Goodbye, Aemond.”

* * * * * 

He managed to zip up before running out into the garage.  “Wait, please!”

She was already at her car door, a zippy little thing he could imagine her in.  She stopped before getting in but stayed with her back to him.

He took his time walking to her, not wanting to send her running again.  Once he was close enough, he stood on the other side of her car where she could see him.  Every muscle in his body screamed for him to grab her, wrap himself around her, take her home with him and continue what they’d started in that utility room.  But she was skittish and he would not push any more.  “Listen, can we please go somewhere?”  

When she turned, he could see she’d started crying and he had to force himself to stay where he was.

“Aemond, I need . . . “ she laughed, “I need a bathroom, and some underwear.”  She wiped at her eyes, the laughter fading from her expression.  “I can’t become broken again.”

He ran a hand through his hair.  “I know.  All I can say is that things are different.  I don’t spend my life dealing with someone else’s fuck-ups anymore.  I learned that lesson.”  He shook his head.  “I wish I had learned it earlier.  I am truly sorry.”

She gave him a small smile and nodded, and he hoped.  How he hoped.  And then he noticed the sign behind her.

“Wait.”

She looked around, wondering what had caught his eye.

* * * * * 

[attor]

thinking hard about sensuality the last couple of days. and on an unrelated note thinking about how all the things i do recently involve making and moving powders (spice shop job, fine metals, ceramics, plaster pouring, making plant charms) and how i love wearing my mask. but back to sensuality- thinking about the boundaries of what we define as sexual especially in relation to sensual experiences...thinking of my friends who i kiss and hold and bathe with and how those arent necessarily considered "sexual" relationships...thinking about the absolute heights of pleasure in other sensual arenas like incredible food or making music together or painting together or gardening together that dont even necessitate touch...questioning the hierarchy of touch above all else and the taboos of sharing sensuality with others who arent in their formal traditional stations of relationship and why sensual relationships that exist outside of touch arent viewed as being as precious or transformative...literally has anyone seen babettes feast. are we thinking