#another yes

[ask-the-king-in-yellow]

Paws at you

do you want a gardener

…

sure.

[ribbonedcuriosa]

(The kpop demon huntersxdigimon crossover nobody asked for. Shush.)

“A demon, demon hunter?” 

Taichi takes a snap step backwards, just out of reach, Yamato's fingers ghosting at the edge of his jacket as he snarls, “I'm not a demon, I'm not…”

“Like me?” Yamato finishes, taking the words right out of Taichi's mouth as well as his fire, his eyes flashing golden like a match that's been struck before quickly fading back to their normal, cool blue. “Sorry,” he says, hand hovering in the empty air before falling back down to his side.

Taichi's sword disappears. He doesn't understand it. He should be attacking him right now, sword strong and heavy in his grasp and instead his palm is empty; all thoughts of attacking Yamato the last thing on his mind. 

“No, it's - it's what I was going to say.” He's cradling his own arms, fingers clasped protectively around the area Yamato nearly touched. He can feel the patterns there, so much a part of him, heavy under his skin, marks that he is all too well aware of. 

“How do you…” Yamato looks up at him and there's a vulnerability there that Taichi's not convinced you can fake, “how do you block it all out?"

“The patterns?” Taichi questions.

His eyes widened, panicked. “Him, his voice, the pain of everything.” His eyes are strained, a hundred years worth of pain etched inside of them. Do demons feel pain? Can they fake it?

“I don't - you hear his voice?” 

“Him. Them. My family.”

“I didn't realise demons feel.” And even as he says it, he half wishes he could take the words back. 

Yamato's hand drifts back up to trace the patterns on Taichi's exposed skin. He's never had anyone touch him before, not skin to skin anyway. It's warm out, still that post summer heat that lingers on into September, the evenings begging for some long overdue rain. Taichi still finds himself shivering at the contact.

“That's all we do.” Yamato says, the ghost of a smile tracing his lips as his fingers leave Taichi's skin almost burning.

[cluelesspigeons]

Floating on cloud 9

The front door of the little flat slammed closed with a hollow thump. Draco fell back against it, a long suffering sigh escaping his mouth.

He should have known that going to visit his parents wouldn't end well, not with his father being home, at least.

He had made it very clear what he thought of Draco’s choice of profession back when he had started working at the little coffee shop. He had sent different letters over the last few months, arguing about all the other jobs available. About all the other options Draco had. He had even promised to help Draco find a ‘decent enough job for a Malfoy’ if only he would come to the Manor.

Yet listening to his father yelling and cursing at him in real life, still made it hurt a little more.

But Draco actually loved his job. He absolutely adored working at the little cafe. So he wasn’t going to let his father ruin yet another thing for him. He was free to do anything he pleased now. His father be damned.

His mother had actually been surprisingly supportive, even interrupting his father every now and again when he kept on rambling and nagging about Draco’s ‘terrible life choices’. Draco had never been so grateful for his mother before.

And when he left through the grand front doors of the Manor, he had hugged her tightly, a soft smile on his face.

“Will you write, my dragon?”

“Of course, Mother.”

“Then I will see you soon. Perhaps without your father being home next time.

“Yes,” Draco said, “maybe that would be best.”

His mother nodded, understanding flashing through her icy blue eyes. “Give my love to Harry.”

Draco huffed a laugh. “I think he would be offended if I didn’t.”

His mother chuckled, smoothing non-existing creases from Draco’s jacket. “Harry’s a good man, Draco. Whatever anyone else says, hold on to him.”

“I will”, he said. And with one last kiss on the cheek, Draco turned around and walked down the path leading to the massive iron gates. He apparated as soon as he felt the heavy magic of the wards fall away from his shoulders.

So that’s how he found himself standing in the little entrance hall of the small flat, still leaning against the bright blue front door. Grunting, he pushed himself to his feet, removing his cloak and not looking where he was stepping. Before he knew it, he tripped over his own pair of shoes.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed loudly, trying to find any grip on the smooth walls and knocking a picture frame down in the process.

“Draco?” Harry’s voice drifted in from the living room. “Are you alright?”

Dark curls peeked from around the corner of the doorway.

Draco nodded as he bent down to pick up the shattered frame. It was a picture of him and Harry laughing and twirling around the tables at the coffee shop. It was one of his favourites. “Yeah…” he said distractedly, “yeah, I’m fine.”

A frown appeared between Harry’s eyebrows. “Are you sure? You don’t look-”

“I said I’m fine, didn’t I?!” Draco snapped. He was clutching the frame in both hands, the sharp edges cutting into his flesh. “I’m fine.”

Harry eyed him, bright green gaze roaming his face. “Alright,” he said, “let me take care of that so you can get ready then.” He nodded his head in the direction of the broken frame in Draco’s hands.

Cocking his head, Draco raised an eyebrow. “Get ready? Why should I get ready?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot, Draco.” Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Molly even specifically asked me if you would come this time.”

“Oh... I… I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Careful, as not to cut himself on the broken glass of the frame, Harry took it from Draco’s hands and vanished it to the kitchen counter. “Tell me,” he whispered, standing only mere inches from Draco, “tell me what’s bothering you.”

Their eyes met and Draco found himself not being able to look away. He couldn’t lie to Harry. Not when he was looking at him like that.

Like Draco was the best thing that had happened to him. Like Draco was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. It actually made him feel like he belonged.

“I’ve been to the Manor today”, Draco said quietly. “Father was there, too.”

“Oh, Draco…” Harry cupped his cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb caressing Draco’s cheekbone. “Is that why you left the coffee shop early?”

Draco nodded. “I just… I thought…”

“Ssshhh, no. It’s fine. You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I just thought he might have changed his mind, you know?” Draco leaned closer into Harry’s body, the other man wrapping his arms around him, shielding him. “He didn’t.”

“Draco…”

“No,” Draco shook his head, leaning backwards a bit. “No, I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have gone. I should’ve visited when he wasn’t there.”

Harry took Draco’s face between both his hands. “I think it was very brave of you to visit even though you knew he was there.”

“I’m not brave, Harry.”

“You might not be brave the way people say Gryffindors are. But I still think you’re brave in your own way.” Harry leaned closer, his breath tickling Draco’s lips. “And I love you all the more for it.”

Ignoring the pressure building behind his eyes, Draco closed the small gap between them. The whole world fell away as their lips touched. It was only them, floating on cloud 9. No one else around them.

It was perfect. It was heaven.

“We don’t have to go to the Weasley’s tonight, if you don’t want to”, Harry mumbled between kisses. His hands were weaved through Draco’s silky strands, tugging softly.

Draco pulled back a bit, his eyes scanning Harry’s face. “Are you sure?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m sure Molly will understand.”

“Alright,” Draco said, “but only if we can take a bath together. I’m in need of some relaxation.”

The bright smile Harry gave him in return made his heart swell with affection. Whatever he did or said, Harry would always be his favourite form of loving.

This is written for the hp pride fest organised by the amazing @girlwithacrown on Instagram. You can find the post here.

The song for this week was ‘Cloud 9’ by Beach Bunny ft. Tegan and Sara.

Read it on ao3

[clolikescloquetas]

So I have this headcanon that Jesminda handmade Lucien's jacket for him as a gift and that's why he always wears it

[enbycupcake]

ohanakins replied to your photo “they don’t look very much alike but mongolian padmé and sabé y/n???”

HELL YES

OH YEAH 

[ronanlegall]

I just turned Manny into a model. Be excited for new music, gaaah.