loumandmicrofic

[loumandmicrofic]

Hey! I just wanted to say thanks so much for running this event - loumand isn't a ship I've written for before but the prompts were brilliant and made me write fics I would never have written otherwise. And it was such a pleasure to read all the other great fics too!

so sorry for the late response, this is so wonderful to hear and means a lot 💗 my goal w this event was to inspire people to write fic for loumand in a way that would be less stressful for someone who hasn't before and i'm so glad it worked! i've loved seeing your daily submissions and the huge response was so unexpected and heartwarming. i might do a similar event next year if anyone is interested

[loumandmicrofic]

Where is she now?

@loumandmicrofic Event 2025 (Last one! This was so so fun, thank you @loumandivorce so much for organising this thing! 💕)

Prompt: bloom/wilting

Word count: 150 (reached)

Again, and again Louis’ mind betrays him. The more you try not to think of a pink elephant, the more you do, yes, but. The same thing over and over again, attacking him when he is elsewhere. His fledgling’s voice, Claudia’s- “Buried our meals outside-” How is he to go on? How is he to think of anything else? “Flowers popping out of the ground, co-” There stood Armand’s tree. Always to look at, while burying his feet. The flowers- pink, in full bloom. “Cold things becoming warm-” She was happy, wasn’t she? But her and Madeleine’s flowers were wilting. Were they wilting when Lestat-? When they left Paris after the turning? When they met? Would they’ve, if they’d- “few cuttings from a Magnolia tree-” His were in bloom, they’d always been. Armand had taken care to keep them in bloo- “Love? You’re spiraling.” Armand's voice came from behind him.

ao3 here.

[loumandmicrofic]

Enough to get lost in

@loumandmicrofic Event 2025

Prompt: recognition/misunderstanding

Word count: 101

Armand, of course, doesn’t miss it. The dismissive turn, the nonchalance. Lips pressed together, furrowed brows- all a dead give away if not for Louis' anger in the air. Every time Armand’s maker comes up. More vocal in the beginning, the fight has mellowed out. Louis believes that he has been wronged. That he is has been subject to torture of some sort. This misunderstanding is quiet and slow. Though, not before a flash of recognition goes through Armand some nights.   The same sweet care, the withholding, the taking. Never quite the real thing, of course, far sweeter, but just enough. 

ao3 here.

[loumandmicrofic]

Oh? How much?

@loumandmicrofic Event 2025

Prompt: modern/ancient

Word Count: 128 (reached)

There had been a 'headset' coming out. Something called a Virtual Reality headset. A pair of goggles with a built-in television of sorts. Armand had his notifications on for it. The marvels, beyond what he could’ve ever imagined, pulls him to when he sneaked out barefoot to see the writing being done by machine with his Riccardo, when he first picked up a phone to Paris with-  Now here lies the biggest box he’s ever seen, nevermind why, and Louis smiling at him expectantly. But- “You like it?” He can’t help but match his smile, “I love it.” “Good. It was cheaper than I thought. For the demand.”  It was a box of headphones. Louis, who didn’t know what hotspot was, tried. And isn’t that what matters, really?

ao3 here.

[loumandmicrofic]

Loumand microfic event, day five: @loumandmicrofic

aug 14 — teeth/mouth, word count: 138 "138 pounds for the metrically challenged. Metronomic, my Rashid." (read also on ao3)

Louis is wearing nitrile gloves. Armand knows what to do.

"There is something the matter with your teeth," says Maître.

"Yes."

"In all my years of dentistry, I've never encountered canines like yours."

The chair in their bedroom reclines, lowering Armand into a semi horizontal position. Louis swings a lamp over, bulb blazing like a cruel sun above Armand's face.

"Does it hurt when they extend?"

"No, Doctor."

"Let me see."

Armand opens his mouth.

"Strange," Louis muses. He pinches one fang between his thumb and forefinger and gives it a slow stroke. Armand shudders. "Sensitive— like a cavity?"

Armand makes a noise of disagreement.

"Sensitive… like a clitoris?"

Yes.

Maître chuckles and gives him a light slap on the cheek.

"Let me get my tools. A vibrator to the tooth might be our best course of treatment."

[loumandmicrofic]

When can I know you again?

day 7 and 8 of the @loumandmicrofic event (I combined them since I went over the word count oops)

August 15 - Altar - word count 42 August 16 - Stranger - word count 180 Combined word count: 222

Read on AO3 here, or after the cut:

He isn’t allowed to speak, when they do this. He isn’t allowed to look, or touch, or want, when Louis takes him up to the bedroom they used to share, fucks him into silk sheets, and sends him away again before the blood dries.

When they do this, he isn’t Armand, or Arun. He is nothing. Nobody. Louis pushes his head down so he can’t see his face, and Armand hollows himself out more and more so Louis can keep pretending they’re strangers.

Later, when he's himself enough to wonder, he wonders if Louis liked him better that way. Removed from his own history. Removed from every bad thing they have ever done to each other. Removed, too, from 77 years of companionship and care and love so sacred that if it could be packaged up and sent to the him he was 300 years ago, he would eschew God and Satan and worship on its altar instead.

Yes, there are moments when Louis seems so sick of Armand’s need that Armand is sure his emptiness is a welcome reprieve.

But then, when it gets bad. A hand on his cheek. The scrape of fangs sharp enough to break skin, but only just. And a soft voice, Armand, love, come back to me. 

And Armand goes, always, where Louis tells him to.

[loumandmicrofic]

all of my loumand microfics for the event are complete! yay!!!

@loumandmicrofic thanks for organizing this, it was lots of fun!

[loumandmicrofic]

I know I'm a day late, but sneaking in one last entry for @loumandmicrofic - for the prompt 'Mirror', 140 words

Here on Ao3

When they purchase the house in Sausalito there’s a room with mirrors from floor to ceiling.

“First thing I’m doing is tearing them out”, Louis says.

“A pity”, Armand replies.  “I was quite hoping to have sex in it.”

On his birthday, Armand finally gets his wish, although Louis makes it crystal clear it’s a one time only event.

They have a queen sized bed with silver silk sheets placed in the room, and Armand wears a shirt made from the same fabric.  Louis kisses him reverently as he undoes the buttons, but leaves the shirt on as he flips Armand over.

Gazing into the many mirrors, Armand expects to see multitudes of himself, exactly as he is in this moment.  Instead he sees Arun, running scared, Amadeo trying his best to be the angel everyone says he is, and the Armand who lied through his teeth to ensure Louis stayed with him always.

“Did you enjoy that, love?” Louis asks after.

“Immensely”, Armand lies.  He graces the treacherous mirrors with one last glance.  “You can rip them out now.”

[loumandmicrofic]

we're nearing the end of the final day of the loumand microfic event! thank you so much to everyone who participated and everyone who read + supported the fic! i had so much fun organizing this, you guys are all so talented and it was amazing seeing all the love for loumand this week. seeing recurring people every day was so nice. we have 95 fics in the loumand microfic event collection on ao3 and even more on tumblr! i hope this event motivated some hesitant fic writers to give writing loumand a shot. love you all for real 💗

[loumandmicrofic]

loumand microfic day 8 - mirror / stranger 180 words @loumandmicrofic

SFW. Also on my ao3 here.

I've had fun writing these. Thanks for a great Loumand week!

Louis needed a break, though he wasn’t sure the fair grounds were the right place to do it. The whole place smelled like sugar and sweat. Kids ran past his legs, cotton candy stuck all over their chins and mouths, pastel pink and electric blue in color. The lights whirled on the carousel, the music from a ring toss game echoing through tinny speakers. There were so many heartbeats, and thoughts, and clowns.

Fucking clowns.

Louis pushed his way over to the nearest tent, the dark inside inviting him in before he realized where he was. The rooms snaked around him, a maze of mirrors that cast him in all shapes and sizes. Figures rushed past him, making him spin in circles. Where was the entrance? Which way had he come from?

He walked down another hall. It was quiet here, the mirrors normal but endless, reflecting back a multitude of himself. He stepped closer, his eyes wide and wild as his breath fogged up the glass. Suddenly, his reflection wasn’t alone anymore. Behind him, a dozen Armands smiled back.

[loumandmicrofic]

loumand microfic day 7 - altar / sacrifice 42 words @loumandmicrofic

NSFW. Also on my ao3 here.

Armand worshipped Louis, and when he was done, Louis worshipped Armand.

Louis pinned him to the bed, unrelenting, as Armand drew close, closer, begging first in English, then French, then in languages Louis had never known. When he was done, Louis swallowed.

[loumandmicrofic]

Loumand Microfic Week

aug 16 — mirror/stranger

@loumandmicrofic

Read on ao3

"Do you come here often?"

Louis cracked a smile. "Is that your big opener?"

The handsome stranger looked sideways at him, big brown—orange?—eyes twinkling with mirth. "It has yet to fail me. And you are speaking with me, when all I wanted was a sliver of a beautiful man's attention, so I am going to chalk this one up on the 'win' column."

Louis blushed at the compliment. "Ion' know 'bout all that." The alcohol loosened his tongue, letting swamps of his homeland ease his syllables, let his words get as close together as he though he might like to be with this new man.

"It's true, you know. I walked in tonight and was struck by your beauty. You're an angel among men." The man placed a bold hand up on Louis' own. "You must let me take you away from here."

He snorted but didn't move his hand. "Ain't been called an angel in a hot minute." He was enjoying this game, the push and pull of flirting, the feeling of being desperately desired. "What're you going to do with me once you've got me, hmm?"

The man leaned in close. His smile looked predatory somehow, and Louis could have sworn his canine teeth were just a tad bit sharper than natural.

"Simple, my sweet." The stranger's lips brushed against his ear. Louis feared he didn't quite supress the shiver going down his spine when he heard, "I'm going to eat you alive."

[loumandmicrofic]

08. mirror/stranger (180 words)

Louis is cool, collected. Nothing betrayed, nothing promised. “Hello, Armand,” he says, and his voice is measured, musical. Eyebrow not cocked but arching ever so, his expression one of faint, smug amusement.

Armand, blood on his face. Blood in his eyes. Here are the little things about seventy-seven years: Louis has seen Armand in tailored suits with his hair waved, which he did carefully himself in the mirror that Claudia used for her eyeliner; he has seen Armand with the dust of those years on his face, wall cracked behind him. Armand is different everywhere and also the same, which is the great irony of their kind. The only thing that ever reflects the time is each other.

He hasn’t seen Armand like this: down low, begrimed. Only the hint of it in his eyes, the hungry thing, the part that craved; the part that loved, maybe, thought it could pour enough of itself into Louis to get it back.

I don’t know who you are, Louis could say. I know exactly who you are.

“Did you ever?” Armand asks.

for the @loumandmicrofic event!

[loumandmicrofic]

reversal

Written for day eight (!!) of the Loumand Microfic Week Event @loumandmicrofic for the prompt "mirror/stranger."

Also on AO3

What happens when they see each other again is an accident, a mistake—the shock of Armand's sudden appearance, in the aftermath of an attack on the penthouse, bleeding into white-hot anger. Anger, bleeding into something else, which bleeds, eventually, into Armand's open mouth—Louis' gripping fingers tangled in his hair, while they tangle together on the living room floor. "Do it harder," Louis snarls, and for once—Armand does.

When they were still companions, and on the rare occasions Louis wanted it, Armand's bite had always been gentle, kind—a loving gift from the good nurse. I could never hurt you, Louis, he'd say. All while he'd done exactly that.

Armand's teeth sink deeper inside him, hot, painful, aching—rough in a way that's completely unlike him, except that maybe it's more like him than what Louis' ever known. 77 years worth of lies—who the fuck's to even say?

I have no idea who you are, he thinks as he claws at the back of Armand's shoulder, as he arches underneath his body. He hopes Armand hears it.

[loumandmicrofic]

day 8 of @loumandmicrofic: mirror / stranger, 180 224 words. content warning: self harm, referenced csa

—

“Save it for the rent boy,” Daniel says.

“May I be excused, Mr. du Lac?”

Rashid can hardly hear himself over the static. When he’s dismissed, he ducks into a bathroom, locks the door behind him, and runs a bath. Only then does he remove his gloves and contact lenses.

Armand stares at his reflection in the mirror, waiting to recognize himself. He waits for a long time. When he turns away, it tastes like defeat, but he can’t stand there all day.

Stepping into the bath, Armand thinks, as he always does, of Venice, of Marius. What’s normally a fond reminiscence now only leaves him feeling cold. Numb. Idly, he traces a fingernail up and down his opposite forearm, just to watch the skin bleed and knit itself back together.

It’s hard to say how long he’s sitting there.

—

When Armand returns to be dismissed for the night, as a human servant might, Louis can tell something’s off. That faraway look in his eyes makes it clear the boy touched a nerve. Luckily, this time, Louis has an idea how to reach him.

“You did well, Rashid.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You want to sleep in here tonight?”

“…yes, sir.”

“Good. Staff’s quarters are too far. I want you here with me.” Louis nods towards Armand’s side of the bed. “Get comfortable.”

“Yes, Maître.”

[loumandmicrofic]

Last day of Loumand microfic event! Thank you @loumandmicrofic (or well @loumandivorce) for orginising, enjoyed much being a part of it <3 AO3 TW for a bit of depersonalization, gen, 180 words

"Louis?"

The noise interrupts Louis from his reading, eyebrows furrowing - Armand's voice seems small, fragile even. He turns around. "Yes?"

Armand does not face him, his eyes glued to the mirror of the vanity.  "Who am I, Louis?"

Louis blinks, getting up to stand behind him. "What do you mean?"

"Just," he says, tilting his head, orange eyes reflecting into themselves with no recognition, "it is as if there is a stranger staring back at me. My hands do not feel like mine-"

He cuts himself off, because Louis reaches to hold his hand, kissing the back of it.  "And now?"

"Better, I suppose..."

"Look at me?" Louis tries, a guiding hand on his jaw urging Armand to obey.

He does.

"You are Armand, an ancient vampire. Your mind," Louis says, fingers tracing Armand's temple, "is filled with fascinating thoughts. Your eyes curious," the fine lines at the corner of his eye, "perceptive. Your lips..." just below his lower lip, "I enjoy kissing you, but talking to you even more."

Over his heart.

"You are the love of my life."

[loumandmicrofic]

@loumandmicrofic week - aug 16 - mirror/stranger - 180 words

it was not a hard-won synchronicity, as with the coven, but instinctive, the understanding birthed in paris morphing but never ebbing, not since their last night in it, their last dawn. not the worst pain in the world—as louis thought of it still—had been able to bury it, and now it was to last; now at the tea cafes—for louis insisted on the name, and on going simply to observe, feeding on nothing more than conversation and the laughter of strangers—people took them for uncanny brothers, or twins, even those that drank in their differences with delight, perfect offerings for armand before louis took him home, and he had a different kind of fun with louis—their pain preparing the pathways of his brain, his body. sometimes, armand knew, when it got good, when armand's fingers were inside him, or he dug rapidly-fading bruises into armand’s skin for a particularly callous mention of paris or a poorly-picked apartment, deep pulls of blood and the comforting obliteration of dominance; sometimes, louis could not tell which thoughts were his, and which were armand's.