#The Big Four—Through Moonlight—Book 1

[camillesblogsposts]

Say yes to me- four (1/2)

Half a chapter!! Sorry if this is annoying but just wanted to do it this way lol. Second part out tomorrow! Hope you enjoy babas!! @blairfox04 @lostcasefile @kyleeservopoulos @cursedpixie @ellieinmybed @intrnetdoll @frasersgf @alanahendrix @experiencebeinanamericanwh0re @ariianelle @nil-eena @spidersammy @starhrtz

Cat sort of stood there in the doorway for a moment, she looked stunned, not really knowing what to do. There was no average explanation for why Ellie was kneeled on the floor before you looking at you so gently. Her gaze was so soft, all she could see was you. Cat almost thought it was some sort of paranoia induced delusion. When the two of you noticed her there you froze up, clasping your hands together protectively. Ellie didn’t look away from your face, she looked dazed.

“What’s going on?” Cat asked, breaking the silence. Ellie stood a little stiffly, flushed. “Why do you need to know?” She grumbled, her hand raising to her neck. She had a tendency to do that when she felt awkward. “I tripped over, Ellie was checking if my ankle was okay.” You didn’t know why you said this, the words sort of just leaving your mouth. Subconsciously, you didn’t want to hurt Cat’s feelings. Ellie glanced back at you and she looked a little upset, you didn’t understand why. Her face was all scrunched up again, she left the room without another word. Cat stayed there at your doorframe waiting until Ellie was out of ear shot.

“Are you telling me the truth?” She asked, arms crossed over her chest.

You nodded. Cat didn’t respond, turning to follow after Ellie. You got into bed and tried to fall asleep.

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep when you were woken up, hearing your name being whispered beside you. It was Ellie, you knew before you opened your eyes. The room was dark now, only the moonlight streaming in through your sheer curtains. It illuminated her face in soft lighting. She looked gentle, once again knelt down to be at your level.

“Hi.” You whispered, pulling up the blankets to cover your face. Everything had happened so so fast: what if Ellie was here now to tell you she wasn’t attracted to you, that she hated you. She reached out and pulled down your blanket so that she could see your eyes, you went flaccid, letting her. Just looking up at her with big puppy eyes.

“Just… wanted to be able to talk to you, before I go home.” She whispered back, voice rough. She sounded sleepy. You wanted to invite her into your bed and hold her. You nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“Um, about what you said.”

“Which part?” Your voice was quiet and uncertain. You were so nervous. Despite imagining this happening to you every day since you were fourteen you still weren’t prepared for it.

“Bout’ being like the girls.. the girls in the book.” She looked away, Ellie was embarrassed. You wanted to kiss her so badly.

“Yeah?”

“You can um, come over to mine tomorrow after patrols.” She coughed before saying this, wanting her voice to be clear. You felt your face flush. Slowly, you nodded.

“I’m gonna need to hear some verbal confirmation on that.” She said sarcastically, standing up. You thought about how helpless you are against her, how tall and strong she looked when you were laid beneath her. Your heart was humming.

“Y-yes please, if that’s okay.”

Ellie smirked. She paused for a moment. “Y’know, I’ve always thought that sweet little thing was an act but you’re just… like that.” She was teasing but something about the way she said it told you that she was being honest. That upset you a little, feeling sorrowful for your past self, all of the times Ellie had pushed you away.

“All I’ve ever wanted to do is make you happier.” You had wanted it to sound assertive but it came out as a sort of sleepy whine, your eyes all blurry. Ellie laughed a little under her breath. “It makes me happy to see you… safe.” You didn’t know what she meant by that but you nodded nonetheless. It made you feel warm inside. You didn’t know that Ellie had such complex thoughts towards you.

“Im gonna go, Cat will be looking for me.” She smiled a little before turning to leave. You sat up, “Are you sleeping with her?” You asked quickly, desperate to know. Ellie’s mouth fell open slightly, confused. “Uh.. no? Not since we were together.” She seemed a little offended at the question. You felt immediate relief and then a little wounded, why would Cat have lied to you about that? You nodded to Ellie, smiling again. You didn’t want her to remember that as the last thing you spoke about.

“G’night Ells, have the nicest dreams ever.” You yawned mid sentence, rubbing your eyes before lying back down to go to sleep. Ellie left your house feeling rejuvenated. You were so close to her. She’d been so close to you. If she had tried to kiss you, you would’ve let her. She could see that now. She cursed herself for all the wasted time.

The next day you had an increasing anxiety in your tummy. You were going to Ellie’s house after patrols. You were so so so nervous. What if she turned you away at the door? What if she’d just invited you over for a movie and you were completely misunderstanding her? What if she didn’t actually like you, she just wanted to fuck you?

You tidied the house and cleaned, Cat never really contributing. You didn’t mind it. You pretended you were Ellie’s housewife. You made cookies to take to her house once she got home from patrols. You opened your stall in the market at 12, selling some body washes and soaps and cleaning supplies. Your days were slow but comfortable.

When it was time to get ready to go to Ellie’s you wore something comfy, baggy pants and a oversized jumper. You didn’t want her to think you were trying hard. You took the cookies in a little bag, your hair in two plaits. You had a little bit of your homemade berry stain on your cheeks and lips, lavender water as a perfume. You were so so so excited. You tried to remember everything Dina had told you about sleeping with girls, imagining how it would happen between you and Ellie. You’d do anything she asked. Anything, anything.

She greeted you at her door, looking around in a way to see if anybody had noticed you there. They hadn’t. She was dirty from patrols, dried blood and mud stuck to her skin and clothes. It was oddly attractive. She laid her hand on your back and pulled you inside, closing the door behind you. The two of you stood in her living room for a moment in silence, just observing each other. The air in the room was so thick.

“Hi.” You giggled, unable to stop your laugh from the anxiety that was coming from the both of you. Ellie smiled down at you, nervous and affectionate, “Hey.”

“I’m gonna have a shower, kay? Just keep yourself entertained.” She smirked, her hand hesitantly laying on the top of your head for a moment before she left to the bathroom. You sat on her couch, flicking through the films to put onto her tv.

You could hear the shower running, your blood running cold. You imagined what it would look like if you were in the bathroom; Ellie’s body. Toned and sweaty and blood stained. She was so lean and muscular, she was so beautiful. You felt yourself getting wet.

[writtenontheport]

The Haunted Boy and His Ghostly Girlfriend

Pt. 1: Finding Common Ground in Communication!!

(Prologue) (pt. 2)

Anthony Lockwood x fem Reader

Warnings/Tags: A bit of a story-building instalment, Slow (?) burn, Meet cute, Reader is literally a ghost 💀, Whenever Reader’s mute basically story wise because it’s from Lockwood’s POV, No use of (y/n), Vague descriptions of reader being a jewel and a gem, this part is plot relevant I promise 😭, pulling some of this out of my ass IM SORRYYYY, I had to make it work somehow…, not much rom or com in this one, more plot and lore and scheming

Notes: I’ll have you know I literally was cross referencing stuff from the wiki, the books, and then the show to try and figure out how tf to write this 😭 There are FOUR drafts of what this scene could have looked like and this is what I had to settle on 😭 Please suspend your disbelief!!

Summary: Lockwood and co. make an astounding discovery about their newest friend, and they are all happy about this for completely different reasons. Lockwood’s reason? Well, he just heard the voice of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Word Count: 1.4k+

“Lucy? George? I think I found her,” Lockwood calls down the hatch, leaning on the pushed up door with a wrist resting on the hilt of his rapier. He sends you a charming smile, and revels in the small one you return. Underneath you both, you hear Lucy and George scramble up the ladder.

Lockwood found you in the house’s attic surrounded by haphazard stacks of sideways furniture, old mirrors, and dated portraits. There was the odd box or few sprawled about; big and small and gigantic, but just about everything was covered in cobwebs except for the window. Moonlight filters in and passes through you from the drawn curtains, framing you a sparkling jewel amongst the mess and clutter of the attic. Lockwood found it hard to tear his eyes away from you, but not out of fear, no.

Like a jewel glimmering in the darkness, you were beautiful and ethereal in all the ways Lockwood hadn’t imagined people could be; dead or alive. Sat on the windowsill with a weariness gleaming in your eyes, you didn’t quite scare Lockwood as much as you enchanted him.

“Lockwood? Did you—“ Lucy says, popping her head up through the open hatch. Her breath catches when she sees you, and you send her a wary smile as she climbs into the attic.

“Is she there, Lucy?” George calls from the ladder, a supply bag on his shoulder. Your eyes drop to the open hatch, but focus back on Lockwood when he leans down to take the bag from George and help him up.

“Yeah, she’s… right here.” Lucy whispers, sounding like she just ran a marathon. Lockwood resonates with that feeling. He looks back up at you and wills his heart to quiet down where it’s beating against his ribcage and slamming into the bones.

George turns around slowly, eyes finding you where you’re laying along the windowsill. You look tired and defeated, a deepness about your eyes that screams of exhaustion. It makes Lockwood’s heart seize as George whispers to him and Lucy, “Have you found her source yet?”

Before anyone can answer, your mouth opens and you soundlessly begin to speak; Lucy perks up and her eyes light. “Where is it?”

Your ghostly hand points to a corner near the window, mimicking a small box as you soundlessly explain to Lucy where and what it was. She nods, determined, as she steps over a few relics and cobwebs along the floor.

“A necklace in an ornate box,” She says aloud, using her rapier to cut away some of the cobwebs. “Definitely over here, but it’s been a few years since you’ve seen it?”

You nod and say something only Lucy can hear, but George follows along and begins helping her dig about. Lockwood steps forward to face you, feeling more and more breathless with every step. He honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing, so he instead says the first thing that comes to mind when you peer at him curiously.

“When we find it, we’ll have to secure it for a bit while we bring you home. You won’t be able to do anything while we have your source contained, but it won’t be long, I promise,” He tries to say reassuringly.

You give him a wary frown with your brows furrowed and lips pursed thin. You open your mouth to say something, but pause to think about it further. From here, Lockwood can see even stray strands of your hair and the bat of your lashes, so lifelike even in the blur of ectoplasm. Weakly, you shrug, not meeting his eyes.

“I promise you, we won’t keep you there forever. We just need to transfer your source.”

From behind him, Lockwood can hear George and Lucy whispering before Lucy comes up beside him. She’s got her hand on the hilt of her rapier out of instinct, but it’s rested and loose.

“We just want to keep you company while Pepper’s away,” Lucy explains, eyes flitting between you, Lockwood, and George. “She asked us to keep you company, and it’s easier to take you home with your source contained.”

You seem to say something in argument, but Lucy’s smile doesn’t falter so Lockwood takes it as a good sign. Somehow even with your face scrunched up, you looked absolutely enchanting in the moonlight. Lockwood was starting to wonder if this was a type three ability.

“If we were caught out in the night with you, someone else might try to take your source. They might hide you away or destroy it if they catch you,” Lucy says gently, nodding out to the street visible from the window. Somewhere along the sidewalk, a ghostlamp is flickering in the distance. In the light of it, a stray agent or two was walking along the street. You seemed to think it over, frown ever present.

“You have my word as agency head; we won’t just keep you locked away.” Lockwood steps closer to the window as you squeeze yourself into one side far from them. He felt touched a bit at how you avoided them; likely you knew it was dangerous and didn’t want them hurt. Your eyes search his face for any hint of a lie, before you slump back into the window and look down onto the street.

Lucy seems to light up at whatever you say next, and gives Lockwood a discreet thumbs-up and impressed smirk. She turns to you, even though you aren’t looking at her, and says, “You won’t regret it.”

A silence settles between you as Lucy steps back to help George look for your source, sending Lockwood a significant look before she too disappears behind a few stacks of antiques. The room is filled with their whispering and bickering, as Lockwood tries not to let his eyes linger on you for too long.

You turn to him, and his heart stops when your lips upturn into a tiny smile. It’s terribly heartwarming how cozy you look in this cold air, and he almost wants to peel off his coat to give to you before realising you were what made it cold. You catch the aborted action with a grateful nod, tucking your lips in to hold a laugh. Not like he would have heard it (a damn shame it was) but he still found himself grinning.

“Almost forgot you probably don’t mind the cold,” He says cooly, watching you shrug. Your hand motions something in the air, before you give up and instead mime pulling a rapier from your hip.

“This old thing?” Lockwood asks, standing up to unsheathe it away from you. You nod and gesture to it again, miming a stab before a thumbs-up and a thumbs-down with (this is important to Lockwood) playful expressions that make his chest warm.

“I’m quite good, if that’s what you’re asking.” He makes a quick, but precise swing at a nearby cobweb and revels in the amusement shining on your face. “I have some newspaper clippings you can see once we bring you home.”

If you giggled there, he’s truly sad he couldn’t hear it. He goes to voice this befote George steps out from the corner with what looked to be a necklace in his hand. His jaw was slack in surprise, and he looked frozen to the spot with his eyes as wide as saucers. Behind him, Lucy was softly calling his name in concern with a hand on his shoulder.

Before Lockwood could ask him what was wrong, George says to you, “I think I heard you just now.”

Your eyes widen, as you sit straight up on the window and ask him a question Lockwood can’t hear. George’s eyes widen, and Lockwood feels his blood pounding in his ears in the silence.

“Lucy, did you hear them ask that?” George doesn’t turn around to face her, but she nods and gives a murmured reply. A glimmering jewel and chain shine in the same moonlight framing you— a gem in every which way.

The next thing that happens comes as a blur to Lockwood, who asks, as if in a trance, to borrow the necklace to hold. Your eyes follow the jewel as George passes it to him, everyone still bewildered and the air tense and cold.

“I don’t think it’ll work for you, Lockwood. You don’t have the talent to listen,” Lucy murmurs to him with a scrunched frown. Still, George passes it over.

“I have to at least try.” Lockwood gently wraps his fingers around the necklace, a bit of chain loose as he turns to you with a soft smile.

He fumbles for words like they’re caught on his tongue, before he simply settles on, “Hi.”

Even without being able to hear you, somewhere in his bones he can feel your words like a kind and fuzzy thought reply to him. It’s enough to have him grinning ear to ear, even if it doesn’t exactly help him understand what you’re saying. Your gaze grows a bit fond at that, and you say something Lucy catches that causes her to smile wide.

On the sidelines, George murmurs, “I can run so many tests.” Lucy smacks his shoulder at his tactlessness, but her smile is unfaltering. She pulls a small, glass case out and pops it open.

“Any last questions, Lockwood? I won’t ask you George because we’ll be here all night otherwise,” She hums, holding out the box.

Anthony’s grin widens and he asks elatedly, “What’s your name?”

Like all the things you will share with him in the future, your name etches itself into his memory, right beside where he will always hold dear your glittering smile.

A/N: I DON’T LIKE THIS PARTTT 😭 It had to be written though… I needed this piece to focus on the plot so I up the romcom in the next part UGH I JUST,,, I just wanna write the slice of life ok,,,, LIKE,,, Lockwood taking his ghost gf out on a mission and she has to save his self-destructive ass like… HELLO. I NEED THAT. My brain though is like “Nooooo… set up plot first bae 🥰☝️” LIKE THIS IS SO MEAN AND NECESSARY BUT SO MEANNNNN

ALSO!! I already posted this, but I went back, read the ending, and was like “No… :((( It no good fo me…” and retconned it AFTER I already posted it…. Yes I am silly, Yes I am incredibly nit-picky with my own writing 😞

Taglist 🏷️

@tangledinlove

@naive-daydreamer (thank you for the ideas!! and the original request!!)

[maria-rayro]

cat!hector part 1

Hector had become a cat years ago, when he was a teenager; that night, after one more day of being chained to his bed and beaten, he ran away from home. It was a full moon, he was barefoot, wearing only one sock, with a body covered in bruises and burns, in shorts and a T-shirt. He ran through the woods toward the lake, enduring terrible pain, about to end his suffering. Hector was wiping tears from his face with his sleeve when he stopped at a fork, then suddenly heard a growl beside him. Frightened, he turned around, and at the same instant a large feral cat pounced on him. His eyes were wide with fear, and his face all teary, and he prepared to be torn apart with claws and fangs, but that was not what happened. He must have lost consciousness for a while, and then woke up as he was dragged into the cave by the collar of his T-shirt. As soon as he was released, he crawled frightened back against the wall, looking at the wild cat, which looked like a panther. It stared at him with eyes glowing in the darkness, its fur illuminated only by the moonlight pouring down from above. It stepped back a few steps and sat at the exit of the cave. Hector didn't understand what the panther was doing in the Chicago woods in the first place.

He was shaking with fear, his clothes were stained, and he was worried that his mother would scold him for it. The thought made him laugh; how naive of him to think he wasn't going to be eaten.

And he had no intention of going home anyway.

Then Munday got up his courage and slowly walked over to the cat, holding out his hand in its direction, and the cat just kept looking at him expectantly. Finally it snorted and covered its eyes, putting its muzzle under his palm, and he stroked its smooth black fur. At that moment he wondered if he was dying after all, and if this was all just the death agony of his brain. Well, it wasn't a bad one; it could have been much worse.

He sighed, looking up at the full moon, admiring its gentle white light, as he suddenly felt a pain in his arm. He didn't jump away from the cat, only shrieked, and immediately bit his lips, reflexively, feeling the blow as punishment for shouting. But the panther only looks at him with a calm gaze. Hector lowered his gaze to his hand, looking at the fang marks and blood, and then sighed. He was suddenly terribly tired, and the cat, as if sensing it, lay back, staring at him expectantly. Thinking with his feverish brain, Munday lay down silently against it, burying his nose in its soft fur.

He woke up in the morning as a kitten. Not a panther - just an ordinary cat, black and with a white spot on its face, as if flour had been thrown in its muzzle. He saw this as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, brought to him by a strange woman with short black hair, dressed in something that looked like a sheet. She explained to him that she had decided to save him last night, and that he would now always be a kitten, only regaining his human form at the full moon; in her case, it was the other way around, and she was human until the next full moon came.

Hector may have been shocked and frightened, but the panther woman was so affectionate with him that he very soon accepted such a fate, deciding that he would be safe beside her after all.

And so it was for some time. Every full moon and the day before (he kept his human form for twenty-four hours, from five in the morning until five the next morning) he would run into town in the clothes the good panther-woman had prepared for him, and go into libraries, and just look at the world around him. When he wandered here occasionally as a kitten, accompanied by her, everything seemed different. Big. Scary. When he visited the city streets in his human form, he felt big. He read books and watched TV in cafes, spending the money his new mother had earned in a month, and staying as far away from his old mother's house as possible.

He had visited Lucinda a couple of times, in the form of a kitten, and the last time she spotted him, she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him away from the doorway. Since then, Hector has not tried to return even like that.

He lived in the forest, as did his panther mother. Only on some days would she occasionally go out into town to work, leaving him alone. Sometimes she would come back with books and read them to him, and talk, talk a lot with him, telling him wonderful legends and stories. Hector would listen to her, curled up on her lap or looking at her with his eyes wide open, and he felt happy to be with her.

She taught him how to hunt, and even in human form she did it perfectly and elegantly. Hector, on the other hand, was not a good predator at first. When he caught his first bird, he was insanely proud and happy, and immediately brought it in his teeth to his mother. She smiled and praised him, stroking his black fur, called him a born hunter, and carefully explained what to do with the bird now, so that he could eat it without choking on its feathers.

At first it was strange to eat raw meat, but Hector soon got used to it. The first time he tried it out of curiosity, and then he realized that, at least when he was in cat form, there was nothing wrong with it, and it was very hearty even. What else could he care about? In addition, he liked the process of hunting more and more each time he began to play with his prey sometimes even when he was full, driving poor rodents and birds into dead ends, grabbing them with his powerful, strong paws, and then releasing them only to catch them again in a couple of moments. This was his favorite thing to do - after sitting in his mother's arms, of course.

One day, however, she didn't return after her work shift. Hector waited for her all night, meowing piteously and wandering around the cave and around, but she was still missing. He couldn't do anything, he didn't eat or hunt or sleep, just sat and meowed intermittently, as if hoping that would make her come back.

After a couple of days, he ran for the first time alone into town to find her, and overheard people talking at her work. One of them was expressing condolences to the waitress over the death of her shiftmate. Hector couldn't believe his ears and immediately ran back into the woods to the cave. There were many of his mother's things there, including clothes and books, and he buried his nose in her sweater, torn in several places, and, breathing her scent, fell asleep only after a couple of agonizing hours. In the morning he woke up a man and, taking her photo, returned to the café, showing it to the waitress and asking if she had seen the woman.

His fears were confirmed. His mother had been murdered the evening after work as she hurried home to Hector.

At that point, the boy began to hate people and would not go out into town, even as a cat, preferring to stay in the woods. He was left alone, and no one read him books or stroked his fur anymore, no one looked at him with warm blue eyes and kissed him on the forehead, calling him a good kitten. Loneliness was his only companion now.

[elevenharbor]

midnight bribe, moonlight bride

1. Sesshōmaru

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … .

Five.

Four.

Three.

I began to count down the seconds in my head as the sound of high heels clicking against the marble floors became louder with each step.

Two.

One.

The double doors to my study burst open suddenly, as if on cue. At the center of the threshold stood my mother, a disapproving look on her face. If looks could kill, my mother’s glare would have massacred, which almost made me flinch. Almost.

“Sesshōmaru Taisho,” she began, her talon-sharp nails tapping steadily against the heavy wooden doors.

I glanced up from the book I was reading, annoyed at being interrupted for something so asinine as this. It was the same argument each week. If it didn’t start with the topic of marriage, it would almost always end with it. “Hello, mother. To what do I owe this visit?”

My answer came in the form of a magazine being hurled at me. Reflexively, I caught it before it made contact with my face. Unfurling the tabloid, it didn’t take long for me to scan it; big, white letters were superimposed on a badly photoshopped photo of me with four scantily dressed women gracing the front page. It wasn’t hard to miss.

“’ Billionaire Bachelor on the prowl: KML exec Sesshōmaru Taisho spotted at a nightclub with a harem of blondes!’ Huh.” I read out loud. “Interesting. I do not fancy blondes.”

“Stop gallivanting around town like a rabid dog on heat!” She scolded, as if I had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. “It’s time for you to end this charade and settle down.”

“You test my patience with this trivial matter, mother,” I replied, venom laced in my tone, warning her to drop the subject. “I am simply not ready for matrimony.”

“You? Not ready? You are nearing forty!” My mother retorted, crossing her arms as she entered my study without permission. “I need to retire soon.”

Dressed in her customary black pencil skirt, pristine white blazer, and black Christian Louboutin stiletto pumps, my mother was the epitome of class, her appearance never giving away her chronological age. She was a trailblazer in the fashion industry and has been for the past few decades, even though her line of work was far from it. She was a venture capitalist, through and through. An alumna of Harvard and Wharton Business School with distinction, Kimi Taisho was a tycoon in every sense, ever since she learned how to balance operating budgets at age thirteen and established her company, KML Enterprise, at nineteen.

Unfortunately, much of my childhood, my formative years, and my adulthood mimicked hers, with little wiggle room. She made sure of it.

She was relentless in everything she set her mind to, which contributed to her success. She was a driven woman with steel focus when she set her mind on something. Right now, however, her focus was solely on marrying her eldest son off as soon as yesterday. It’s all she ever talked about, as of late.

“I am not suited for married life, mother.” I still reasoned, despite knowing it fell on deaf ears.

“Nonsense! Your father and I married when I was twenty. I had you at twenty-three. You are almost twice my age when I gave birth, and yet you still choose to play games.”

“I am thirty-three. Unless you forget how to count, that is nowhere near forty, or forty-six.” I corrected, trying to keep my cool and not lose control. I folded my glasses and placed them on top of the now-abandoned book. “No one is holding you back from resigning. I am perfectly capable of taking over the company in your stead.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed, walking over until she hovered above me. “You know my condition. You want the company? Then get married. Stop making me, and our family, look terrible. It’s bad press.”

“Quite frankly, I do not care.”

“Sesshōmaru—“

Balling my fists in anger, I stood up and glared down at the woman who birthed me, towering over her by a good six inches. “I have established myself as the CEO of KML Enterprise since I received my master’s degree from Wharton, just as you requested. I have spearheaded the rapid growth of our international branch, which has elevated your status and influence to greater heights. I get weekly offers to merge with our competitors, who are clearly being left in the dust and want a slice of the pie that you currently hold.”

I was ignited, and I couldn’t stop. “So tell me again, mother. How do I make our family look bad?”

Arguing with her was causing my migraine to bloom. I needed to get away from her. Fast.

“This conversation is done,” I said sternly, getting up from my seat and grabbing my jacket from the coat rack. I quickly patted my breast pocket, ensuring that I still had my medication with me, just in case.

“This conversation is over when I say it’s over,” she barked at my retreating form. “Take one more step, and I am taking away your car!”

“I own my car. Same goes for this house that you are currently trespassing on.” I spat back, turning around so she could see just how unaffected I was, or at least I thought.

“Say that again.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Your threats are meaningless. It might work on my brother, but it bears no consequence for me.”

“At least your brother has the sense to listen to me,” she replied cooly, studying her red lacquered nails. “Perhaps I should take more than your petty house and your cheap car. You know as well as I do that I get what I want.” A devilish smile formed across cherry-painted lips. “I have my ways, Sesshomaru. Do not cross me.”

The room was deathly silent as I contemplated her counter-threat. I knew she had the capability to strip me of my position and my shares in the company, regardless of whether the board of directors agreed or not. I have seen her do this to a fellow board member with no remorse or recourse. I may be her son by blood, but I didn’t want to risk finding out if familial ties held any weight when it came to protecting her business, just to prove a point.

Hardening my gaze, I finally relented. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll get married.”

“That’s my boy,” my mother cooed sweetly, her ire gone in an instant. It was disturbing how easily she flipped, like a switch. “See? That wasn’t so hard!”

I wasn’t convinced. “But I need a year. And I’m doing this on my terms. With who I want.”

“Fine, but I get the final say,” my mother countered. “She better meet my standards, otherwise you will marry who I choose for you, on my terms.”

Leave it to her to throw my offer back in my face and set terms. Of course, there would be conditions. Kimi Taisho did not embark on any deals, personal or otherwise, unless there were conditions—mostly to her benefit. It’s how she operated and how she maneuvered the cut-throat business world with such finesse.

She was an assassin with her tongue. Every word held weight.

“One year, Sesshōmaru. Starting today, and not a day more. Do not disappoint me.” She hammered once more before turning her heel and walking away, ascending the stairs and disappearing from my sight altogether.

As soon as the sound of her clicking heels faded, I released a long sigh that I didn’t realize I had been holding.

Contrary to what my mother believed, I’ve wracked my brain on how to go about this whole marriage fiasco more times than I would like to admit. Though I have had my share of dating women, none of them had met my standards, regardless of their social status. They were either after my money or my looks, and I found them all to be a bore even after bedding them. In my defense, they threw themselves at me, despite my best efforts to thwart their advances. I’m no fool, however. I’m a man with carnal needs, after all.

I had even explored the idea of paying someone I’d contractually hire to be my pretend partner, but after careful consideration and going through each scenario, I decided it was more trouble than what it was worth. I didn’t know how I could fool my mother, who had a keen eye for discerning deception from the truth. I also didn’t want to put myself in a position to be further ridiculed by her, or anyone else, if word got out.

My list of options was dwindling, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Not that I believed in marriage as a sacred thing or marrying for love, but above all, I’ve been rebelling for as long as I have to keep my freedom. Marriage was a hindrance, and it signified the end of my life when I commit myself to another person for the rest of my waking days.

As my mother reminded me earlier and on numerous past arguments, she and my father wed when they were barely adults. Whether their marriage was out of convenience or commitment, or maybe even love, their so-called marriage still failed in the end. My father had conceived my brother with another woman out of wedlock. My mother ended up adopting my half-brother, in part due to my father repenting for his mistakes and how his mistress had died shortly after childbirth, leaving the child mother-less at such a young age.

However, all that groveling was for naught since my father died in a car accident not long after— leaving my mother widowed with a newly adopted toddler and a school-aged, tantrum-prone child.

I was resentful at first, but as my brother and I grew up, both suffering under our mother’s totalitarian ways, we bonded over our shared misery. My mother never re-married, instead choosing to raise us with the help of countless nannies. Sheltered for most of my life until college, I only had my parents’ shining example to go by. Clutching my head, I felt like I was floating as the migraine cascaded down in full force. I was thinking too much again, and not in a good way. Immediately seizing the bottle from my breast pocket, I swallowed the pill dry, hoping the medication would take effect before I was left incapacitated.

“I need to relax,” I said to no one, as I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant’s number to fetch me. Perhaps driving during rush hour with a jackhammer pounding my skull wasn’t the greatest idea...nor was operating any machinery in the next hour, driving a car included, since I had taken my medication not even five minutes ago. I was sure it would hinder not just my hand-eye coordination, but my level of consciousness as well.

“Sesshōmaru-sama!” My assistant squawked eagerly on the other line. “How can I be of service to you at this hour?”

“Drop the honorifics, Jaken. Take me to Yura’s. Call them for a walk-in appointment on your way to me.” I commanded in rapid succession. It was getting harder to think and speak coherently. “Book Kagome specifically. No one else.”

“It shall be done. I take it Mrs. Taisho paid you a visit?”

“Not now, Jaken.” I didn’t intend to sound blunt, but right now was really not the time for small talk. I needed to get to Yura’s first and get my ‘unconventional’ treatment to keep this blasted migraine at bay.

“I will be there in thirty minutes,” I heard Jaken say before I hung up. I closed my eyes and willed the headache to go away, at least until Kagome performed her magic or whatever she did as she massaged my head and pulled at my strands. It was the only thing that halted my perseverating thoughts, relaxing me altogether. Her conversations were not unpleasant either, and as my migraines increased in frequency, I found myself becoming a regular patron.

Although I couldn’t see her features due to her face mask and head covering, her expressive blue eyes told me enough. She was a keen listener, and she did not ridicule me nor made me feel like I was going insane from the typical chaos that is my daily life. Over the past few months, I felt like she had been my confidante during our sessions, and she responded appropriately. I knew she was intelligent when she was able to keep up with the financial jargon that spewed out of my mouth after a long day at the office. She even made suggestions that made sense, some of which I had applied to one of my bidding meetings successfully, much to my delight.

I wondered what she would say if I brought up this whole marriage conundrum. Maybe she could offer a solution that I have yet to discover.

“Perhaps I should pay her instead of my therapist,” I said aloud to see if it sounded absurd. While Dr. Bokuseno was revered as the best in town, Kagome did a better job than that overpriced, old geezer. Unproductive therapy sessions aside, I still kept him because he was, technically, my legal drug dealer.

Taking the orange bottle out of my pocket once more, I looked inside and frowned. I only had three pills left. I’ve been taking them at a faster rate than usual.

Twirling the bottle between my thumb and forefinger, I grimaced at the three pills that rolled around. “Pathetic.”

I set a reminder on my phone to get another refill soon.

Glancing at the time, I groaned in frustration. Only five minutes had passed since I last spoke to Jaken.

I closed my eyes and meditated, but to no avail. Instead, I sat back down on my ottoman and grabbed the nearest thing within reach, which happened to be the tabloid of my scandalous rendezvous on the front page. Whoever wrote up this piece was going to be hearing from my lawyer in the morning.

Thirty minutes felt like thirty years. What was taking that toad so long?

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … .

prompts: Count, Patience, Control, Ignite, Embark, Float, Cast, List, Ascend, Begin/Halt

words: 2,363 (wtf..o_0)

[phoenixrising0308]

The Promise: What they stole from us (d)

Books: The Royal Romance 1

Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.

Pairing: Liam & Jessica (MC)

This week’s wackydrabbles takes a serious turn with this miniseries that complements my ongoing series  The Promise. The prompt is “Why did you say that?”

Triggers: Sex acts and physical agression.

Series Playlist

Detailed disclaimer

Catch me here

Chapter summary:  Madeleine will stop at nothing in her quest for Cordonia's Crown.

A/N #1: Applewood revisited in the Agent Phoenix: Forged In Fire A/U canon divergent series.

A/N#2: In my HC Liam is a lefty and this is a rare trait only 8% to 9% of the worlds population share. I’m sure that I am not the only author nor the last that would HC this trait. I can only hope that my attention to this detail differs from theirs and offers something to the story.

Word Count: 1,000 *As always, forgive my typos and grammatical errors.*

Reading time: 4 minutes

*I suppose you can read this on its own but the story below is related to the promise as a whole. Once completed part four will pick up. This story is central to the plot *also this story has been in my drafts for two years so I wanted to give it its own moment so consider this a story within a story*

Applewood Grounds

Tariq attended the event like he did all of them. He could never imagine not going, especially with so much luxury being bragged about. His title of Lord made him envious of the others that were above his rank.

Then his eyes landed on Liam and Jessica. The woman didn’t even seem mildly impressed with him.

‘If you weren’t in this competition, I would surely have made you mine.’

He was surprised when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Lord Tariq.”

He gave a bow, “Countess Madeleine! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She gave him a look he had never seen on her before as she subtly swiped her hand up to his sleeve. She whispered,

What I want is improper to display here...Meet me in the hedge maze.”

He gawked in dismay as she sauntered away, glancing over her shoulder with a wink to her eye.

He didn’t hesitate to race outside. Of all the ladies of the Court, Madeleine is by far the hardest to obtain...I HAVE to see this one through.’

He met her at the hedge maze, looking indifferent before she stood and glided towards him.

“My, Countess Madeleine. You look graceful as ever. An alabaster Goddess in the moonlight. You outshine-”

She pushed him against the bushes and leered at him. “Stop trying to flatter me. This is business.”

“Fine. What’s the catch? You have the title of Queen on the line.”

She gave a genuinely amused smile and flung her head back to laugh. “ You have something I want to make use of.”

“Oh, for once, titles are irrelevant when the party in question is one where they have something you want.”

“Yes, even the dowdy have something that can be useful.”

“DOWDY!? Why did you say that?  What gives you that impression?! I have shoes imported from Italy! A cellar full of wine from France! A car from Germany! I am the very definition of luxury! My suit tonight cost more than most commoner houses!” Tariq snapped.

“Oh please, you buy Gucci or Versace or some big brand and with big obnoxious logo to save face all the while you have nothing in your wallet to match. Hoping that the card doesn’t come back declined while you are out with friends. True luxury is power. My House knows that very well, does yours?”

“Forget it!” He turned to walk away but was stopped as she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“Now, don’t get so hasty. Being...Blunt is my foreplay.” She urged him to turn around. He pouted but quickly hung his mouth open in a silent moan as she roughly groped at him through his suit.

“You want to prove me wrong? Show me. Show me if you’re man enough to take me.”

He shoved her to the maze, his hand around her waist. She bit her lip and smirked down at him.

“Oh, you CAN do it. Good...You just might be a decent pick after all.”

He roughly shoved her against the hedge and quickly worked at his buckle as she simply smirked. She stopped him midway with her knee to his groin as he panted and desperately tried to grab her.

“Ah. Not me; I would never offer my body without a strategy.”

“What do you need from me?”

She rolled her eyes, “Tariq, let me get to the point. You know Lady Jessica?”

He released her. “Who doesn’t? She clearly is one of the top picks. Liam doesn't stop talking about her. She certainly is voluptuous. I’m tempted to peek in the fitting room.”

Madeleine slapped him across the face. He blinked in surprise before she started rubbing her knee against him. His breath hitched.

“I don’t give a damn about your opinion or stories, you pompous fool. I need to make this quick before anyone catches me with you. I want her out. I want her gone and fleeing with her tail between her legs. I want to see the satisfaction of her tears spoiling her makeup as Liam rejects her. I need Leo to see what it looks like to remind him what he did to me. Then I want to take the place that is rightfully mine. I never cared what brother was on the throne as long as I had a seat next to him. I will be damned if this time around the opportunity escapes me. Call it revenge, call it my divine right, call it whatever I was promised a throne and I’m collecting it even if I have to lie, cheat or strip someone of their dignity to get it. Liam will never want her after you do what I’m asking you to. Even if he does, Cordonia doesn't want her and the Council will pick me.”

He groaned, “How do I fit into this power play of yours?”

“What if I can make you rich of your own accord and give you lands that no one can take, England, France, or better yet Argentina someplace FAR away that makes you untouchable. You will never need to worry about asking your Father for money. Rumor has it that he has had enough of you and wants to cut you off and your brother Amad wants you to earn your keep. His wife Amina is pregnant. You are the spare you would never inherit anything anyway so why have an allowance when you can have your own lands, maybe even a title in England. You have dual citizenship in Cordonian and Saudi Arabia… we can get you citizenship in England and the possibilities of what influence my father has there are endless BUT if you want money and lands with no responsibilities I can arrange that. ”

He paled and stepped away for a moment, “How do you know that? Who told you such a lie?!”

She smirked over her shoulder, “I am no one to be trifled with.” She beckoned him closer; he hesitated before he leaned over her to hear her whisper the number in his ear.

His breath caught in his throat a moment before he moaned and grinned at her, eagerly rubbing himself against her thigh.

“Oooh, that number is very, very pleasing. I’m in...More ways than one.” He went to grind upward closer to her lace-clad lips only for her to rip herself away and lower her gown once more.

“The door does not have a lock. Someone will knock three times on your door when she is alone. Have your way as far as you want to go. Do whatever you want as long as you’re able to be seen from the window… Invite friends even take turns. Whatever it takes to make sure she knows her place. Fancy dresses and good manners mean nothing when you have Royal Blood in your veins”

“You’re truly a wicked woman.”

She looked cold and disinterested as he stroked his cock right in front of her.

“Madeleine, I need to get warmed up. You see, I enjoy foreplay, and when you force someone, that’s not possible.

Madeline curled her lips. She was annoyed, but she would be willing to sell herself if it meant she could get an ally to help her get closer to the crown. She had a lookout that would warn her if someone was near and it would be his word against hers whether she ever pleased him orally besides after the deed was done with Jessica he would be far away unable to tell the story of their sexual act.

Ten minutes later…

He stood there with his head tilted back and his hand firmly placed at the back of her neck. A soft moan escaped his lips. Then she abruptly stopped her performance. She wiped her mouth of his juices and whispered into his, “Now go upstairs.

“I’m not finished, Madeline.”

“Save your pent-up energy for her.

“Don’t be late, or I’ll let the entire Court know the embarrassment of the reason you no longer have access to your family's money. They fear you will lead them to bankruptcy with your insistent need for hookers and shoes. AND you better think twice if you told a soul what happened moments ago...I think people will have some strong opinions about the pregnant hooker from New York you left behind.”

Tariq looked at her in shock. “How did she find me?”

“You idiot you just don’t get it. The question should always be how did I find out about it… and then found her. Do you think I would leave anything to chance this time around? You would understand if you don't get invited to the wedding don’t you?”

Madeleine smiled and turned on her heels and exited.

[ends-of-the-wayward-storm]

Fic Update: Through Moonlight

I have FINALLY started writing new chapters! It’s taken way too long for my taste but it’s progress. I’m gonna see if I can TRY to aim for next Saturday to post ‘em, but we’ll see!

Also, if you’re curious about what this fic is about here’s the first chapter on Tumblr and here’s the AO3 version. I have yet to put AO3 links in the chapters, however. I’ve also made a cover for it that I am quite proud of. 😊

[heyyyharry]

Preview: Harry is a demon, and Y/N is just really nice

Warning: SMUT (I got this idea when I was in the library. Do not judge me)

Full story: Tuesday, April 19, 2022 or read now on Patreon.

.

.

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Harry never considered himself a gentleman. He couldn't recall the last time he'd done something remotely gentlemanly. He never got up on the train or a bus when there was no seat left and an old lady with a cane got on. He almost pushed a guy into the train track the last time he'd ridden the tube; in his defence, the bloke was a tourist, so who hadn't thought about pushing a tourist into the train track before? So it took everything in him now not to strangle this mortal girl after she'd woken him up at 1 AM and dragged him here.

"It won't take long," Y/N said, taking him by the hand and pulling him down the aisle.

They were the only ones in the library. Every person and object in this house was asleep. After midnight, the house was as quiet as a graveyard. The only sound you could hear on a peaceful evening such as this one was the rustling of leaves outside the windows.

Harry's heart thumped with every one of their footsteps across the wooden floor. The library was so big that even a whisper echoed. He never understood how his great great great uncle had chosen to build such a huge library and filled it with so many books that stacked up all the way from the floor to the ceiling. Four walls were covered by books. All dusted up and abandoned for decades.

Y/N was the only one who came in here often, and she cleaned up sometimes, but she couldn't possibly clean every corner of this old place.

"You better give me a good reason not to kill you," Harry said with a growl when she released his hand and they had reached the wall at the end of the aisle.

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming. And now he was curious about her new discovery that made her unbothered by his threat of killing her.

"I found this book." Her grin reached her eyes as she pulled a hardback out of a shelf. It was pretty old, the leather cover dirty and torn at the corners. Y/N opened it and Harry started coughing and waving his hand in front of his face, dust floating in the moonlight streaming through the oval windows above the bookcase.

Y/N dragged her fingers down the page and stopped at one paragraph. "Okay, here it says that a demon is free of his chains when..."

"When he's collected 666 pure souls," Harry rolled his eyes, "are you mansplaining me right now? This was in Demon 101."

Y/N blinked in surprise. "You had a class called Demon 101?"

"No. That was sarcasm."

Y/N didn't seem amused. "Also, it's not mansplaining because I'm a woman."

"You're human. So it's mansplaining." Then, he jabbed a finger at her face and she flinched, her back hitting the shelf behind her with a thud. "I can gladly waste a pure soul and kill you now so I can go back to sleep."

"No, listen!" She circled around him and stood in front of him. Despite his annoyance, she went on reading the content on the page. "A demon is free of his chains when he gives up his immortality."

Harry arched an eyebrow as Y/N's smile grew. "So there is a way to save you."

"Errr, that is even worse than having Lucifer burn me to ashes."

"How? Being human is great."

He eyed her up and down. "Says you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you suck, and this is stupid."

Y/N seemed offended. Good. She should be.

"Just think about it, you sold your soul when you were twenty, and according to this book, you could go back to being twenty again. You'd rather suffer for eternity than be human?" she asked.

"Wrong." He held up a finger to her nose. "I'd rather finish my job, then get released from my contract, and live a life as an immortal. I don't want to die of old age. And this book–" he grabbed the book from her hand and clapped it shut, making her jump, " –is not correct. Well, at least not entirely. Maybe this is an old version that existed centuries ago when humans had a much shorter lifespan. With the new laws of the Underworld, if I ever agreed to give up my immortality, I would become human again, but then Time would catch up with me and I'd die instantly."

"Oh."

Harry rolled his eyes at the disappointment on Y/N's face. "Sweet that you're trying to help, but don't think you can outsmart me."

She stayed silent and watched him put the book back on the shelf. He turned back to her, about to tell her off, but now that his anger had cleared and the sleepiness had faded, he finally noticed her standing there in her nightdress. She caught his intense stare and pulled her cardigan close to cover her revealing chest.

A smirk tugged at his mouth. He advanced, and she quickly withdrew. One step, two steps, three steps. Her back hit the shelf and she froze. He leaned in until he could feel her breath shudder in his presence.

"But why are you so passionate about helping me, little human? Tell me," he sighed and her chest heaved as well, "what would you gain from that, hmm?"

[elias-code]

Two Left Hooves [1/7]

Choose your own adventure ~ "Intro"

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza, Eret

Summary: This is a choose-your-own-adventure!! You met Techno through Phil, helping him get rid of his headache after hibernation. He was immediately infatuated with you. Techno invites you to go to Eret's banquet. When you arrive to prepare for the banquet, he tells you that he will only sleep in his room with you if you wanted, now you get to choose if you want to sleep with him or not…

Warnings: Cussing

--- Phil ---

“Hey, Techno,” I peeked my head around the corner, holding the letter behind my back away from his line of sight.

“Hullo,” He turned to me, hands still in his hair, pin sticking out of his mouth. He was braiding his pink hair, unaware that his worst nightmare was about to come true. “So, mate,” I walked in, hands still behind my back, “I got some mail.”

“Mhm,”

“You remember the egg?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He turned back to the mirror, inspecting the last loop he’d made.

“Eret is hosting another banquet,”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re invited,” his face in the mirror went pale, “since you’re the one who yeeted it.”

Techno paused, unmoving. Slowly, he tied the ribbon at the bottom of the braid, securing it with the pin. He made eye contact with me, his eyes were begging me to yell psych! and run out the door. Instead, I held the opened letter, once hidden behind me, up in the air, presenting it to him.

“Phil…”

“Yeah?” I laughed, this was the most scared I’ve ever seen him.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nope, look.” I shook it at him, flipping it over to show Eret’s handwriting: To Technoblade and Philza Minecraft.

He shuddered slightly, finally turning to me and taking the letter from my hands. It read:

Technoblade and Philza,

This may seem strange and menacing, but I promise it’s not. Ever since the red banquet disaster, I’ve been thinking about how much I think the people of this server need a pick-me-up. We needed a re-do.

So, I’ve decided to host a banquet, this time out in the open with no bullshit. There’ll be drinks, games, and dancing, and I want you to be there. Since you had a lot to do with the egg’s eventual downfall, I personally think you need to be there, Technoblade.

I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone else. There’s a plus-one requirement for safety reasons (buddy system), and so I’ve addressed this to both of you. I look forward to your attendance! I suggest wearing something else since I don’t want anyone having flashbacks when they see your royal gown.

On the back of the card, Eret wrote the coordinates and information about the dress code. The card had gold decorations on the edges, curling and twisting like vines, dotted with golden roses complete with thorns. The dress code specified that the suggested colours were black, white, blue, and gold, hence the bordering roses.

“Do you own anything you think you could wear?” I asked as he handed the card back to me.

“I still have the Arctic coat, but if this is anywhere near L’Manburg, it’s gonna be too hot for that.”

“Right, I might have to make something for you then,”

“Alright,” He hesitated, “Do I have to go? That’s a lot of enemies in one place…”

“Yeah, sorry mate, you have to go.” I put the card back into the envelope, closing and pocketing it. “Oh, wait, one thing Techno,”

“There’s more?”

“Um, I can’t go.”

“What?” “I can’t go to the banquet,” I was lying, but he didn’t need to know that, “I’m supposed to be at the ocean monument that day.”

“And your fishing can’t wait?” He raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “Who am I supposed to bring?”

“I dunno, mate,” I shrugged and clicked my heel against the floor, “Maybe you can bring that bird I introduced you to… if you can find them.”

— Techno —

“Phil, who’s this?” I had walked into the kitchen, half-dressed. I was not expecting to see someone else sitting at the table. They looked at me, smiling and waving.

“Oh hello sleepyhead,” Phil remarked, stirring the rabbit stew that hung over the fireplace, “I dunno, they don’t seem to have a name.”

“Hello!” I looked back at them. They were dressed in forest green pants, tucked into black boots lined by silver buttons with fancy engravings, laced in leather strips, looped and tied at the top of the boot. Their top was one of mine, an old long-sleeved white cotton top Phil had probably found in the back of the closet. They had a golden-yellow scarf slung over their shoulders. I waved awkwardly, still half asleep.

“You don’t have a name?” I asked, still confused.

“Uh, I guess not. Phil’s the only person I’ve seen in a while.” They said, pointing at him. He was closing the white under-curtains, almost like he was avoiding the interaction.

“Then what do I call you?”

“Phil’s been calling me the bird.”

“Bird, huh?”

“He says it's because I’m migrating.”

That was strange enough as it was, and I decided to leave it there. Talking was making my headache worse, so I walked over to the stew, immediately recognizing the smell of carrots, potatoes, and chicken over the rabbit smell. My stomach grumbled, attempting to convince me to shove my face into the pot and gorge myself, but I pulled back.

“Is it ready yet, Phi?” I asked.

“No, it still has a couple of minutes, don’t go touching it yet. We should all eat together.”

I could wait a bit longer, I supposed. The smell was enticing, but my attention still lingered on the “bird” sitting at the table, reading a book. I sat down at the table and thumped my head onto it, only to make my headache worse.

“Ughhhh,” I groaned.

“You ok?” The bird asked.

“Headache,”

“Ah, I have something for that!” They picked up a bag from the floor and rummaged around in it for a bit before pulling out a small vial of green liquid. They uncorked it and an overwhelming spinach smell washed over me. “It might smell odd, but it works wonders.”

I lifted my head off the table and took the vial from them, inspecting it.

“Is this thing safe to drink?” I furrowed my eyebrows at them, looking for dishonesty.

They snatched it from me and took a swig, swiftly handing it back to me. “Take that as a yes.” They said.

— The Bird —

I knocked on the door, shivering slightly in the cold. I wore three layers, an undershirt, a turtleneck, and a thick coat. I got a letter a couple of days ago from Technoblade, asking me to go to the banquet with him and inviting me to stay at his cabin before the banquet. I accepted and sent the letter the same day since I knew the mail was slow. Just one day later, I hopped on my horse and made my way to the far arctic.

Techno opened the door and ushered me inside, shutting the door behind me.

“Jesus, you’re shivering,” he said, grabbing his cape off its stand and wrapping me with it. Thankfully, my face was already red enough from the cold that he didn’t notice me blush.

“Is your horse outside?”

“Yeah, I tied her up to the post,” I pulled the enormous cloak tighter to me, “but I don’t think she should stay there for long, it's too cold.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” He said, turning from me and walking out the door. The sudden freezing breeze pushed me into the living room, near the fire. I sat down in an armchair and Steve wandered over to say hello.

“Hey, Steve…” I offered my hand to him and he sniffed it, grunting in my face with his fishy breath, “You do not smell good, big boy…”

He huffed like he understood what I said and I chuckled. He sat at my feet as I scratched his head. “At least you’re soft, Steve.” You smiled, “Good boy…”

The door opened and slammed again, Techno walked over dusting his hands off and Steve lumbered over to greet him.

“Hello Steve, you’ve inspected them, yeah?” He baby talked at him. The polar bear was big, almost as tall as Techno standing on all fours. It was strange to see such a big man 'baby talk' an apex predator, so you laughed a bit to yourself.

“What?” He asked, patting Steve on the head.

“Nothing, you’re just being cute.”

He smiled and sat himself down on the couch, crossing his legs and looking at you.

“If I’d left you out there any longer, you would have gotten frostbite,”

You realized you were still shivering in his cloak, “Yeah, thanks for not letting me die out there, and for the cape,”

“If I’d let you die, I wouldn’t have a date for the banquet.”

“Ooh, I’m a date now, am I?” I teased.

He blushed and looked away, still smiling.

“I suppose so,” he whispered.

He stood and offered a hand to me. I took it and stood, following him upstairs to his room, the only bedroom in the house. The room had recently been tidied, the paintings on the wall included snowy landscapes and one of a wither. The curtains were open, the night sky illuminating the room. The moonlight made everything a pale blue, almost making Techno’s hair purple.

“I don’t have anywhere else for you to stay right now unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

“Are you also sleeping here?”

“Only if you’re ok with it,” He said, kneeling by the fireplace and setting logs on the grate.

Would he really? He seems so shy…

— Technoblade —

I could feel my blood rush to my face as they asked if I’d sleep with them. I turned to the fireplace and lit the fire, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Only if you’re ok with it,” I said.

They paused and my heartbeat harder, unsure what they were going to say. I started preparing the fire, putting the hesitation out of my mind.

////////UNDER CONSTRUCTION BRRRRRRRRR (2/3 complete)///////

Do you allow him to sleep with you?

Yes, tell him you’re going to be cold and need the body heat. (NSFW)

Ask where he wants to sleep. (Fluff)

No, respectfully suggest he sleep on the couch. (SFW)

[lumisfiction]

Just For Tonight

Kakashi x Black Reader

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kishimoto, gif not mine found on the internet.

Warning: Black Reader Insert, fluff

Part 1

****Part Two*****

Y/n’s house was the most enchanting place in all the Hidden Leaf, four miles into a secluded forest lay a stone path with handcrafted lanterns along it. The forest that surrounded it was filled with every color of wild flower that Kakashi had ever seen. It was as if he was no longer in the village, like he’d stepped into another world, y/n’s world. A world of fireflies, sun flowers, moon flowers, roses of every color, and lilies. A pastel painting with a deep green undertone of the entire forest. All around him were arches, tall trees with branches that entwined with evening birds perched on them singing their evening hymn. The dim light of moon peaking through illuminating the walk way. If it hadn't been for Sasuke and Naruto he would have never found this place.

Tugging eagerly at his vest Naruto guided him farther until they came to a large clearing. The moon and stars were brighter as it reflected on the surface of the small pond in front of them. It seemed all matter of creatures came out tonight in celebration of y/n, the sounds around him growing louder. A pleasant loudness that blended with the atmosphere of the pond and on its surface glowing lotuses glided past. Naruto reached down and picked one up, crystal liquid pooling over his small fingers. Kakashi watches as its blue light dimly lights the boy's youthful face. He looked his age then, like a child who held the most precious thing in the world. “These are her favorite” cupping it delicately Naruto presented his hands to him. “I know you came last minute Kakashi sensei, you can bring this as a gift” Naruto grinned a mischievous glint in his eye. “A gift” Kakashi scratched the back of his neck, painfully aware of his unpreparedness. In his haste to cheer Naruto up he’d forgotten that he just returned from a mission. His clothes were dirty and his hair was grimy. “I think a gift is the least of my concern” Kakashi pulled at his filthy pants, he could fill the dirt under his fingernails. He thought about y/n then how pretty she would look and her face when she saw him. It would be their first official meeting and this is what she’ll see. Her first impressions forever skewered by his dirty attire. It made his hands tremble and he felt heat rush throughout his body, a nervousness swelling somewhere deep within him. Nervous to meet y/n, like a school boy who finally gets to spend time with his crush.

Sasuke looked behind him observing a riled up Kakashi. Even in the moonlight and a half exposed face he knew exactly what his tinted cheeks meant. “She shouldn’t be home yet, you can freshen up once we get there” his arms practically spilling over with an assortment of flowers. Kakashi looked over at Sasuke sighing, was he that easy to read? How long has it been since he was social? Was he so out of touch that he couldn't even manage to hide his emotions from a prepubescent boy.

His mind wandered off again as he began to contemplate his decision to attend. It was all too sudden, what if he made of a fool of himself? Or worse what if he isn't welcomed? Thoughts were spinning around and round his head so much so that a scowl returned to his face and his exposed brow scrunched. His inner conflict occupied all of his attention so much so he hadn't noticed Sasuke making kissing noises. Not until the boy began to tease him childishly.

"Kakashi and y/n sitting in a tree k.i.s.s.i.n.g" Sasuke relentlessly teased Kakashi with a child-like twinkle in his eyes. It was perplexing, the cool headed vengeful Sasuke was the polar opposite of his former self. Laughing and smiling as he bent down to pick even more flowers along the water. Stopping to look them over and disregard the flowers he no longer wanted.

It was so out of character for him that Kakashi hadn't noticed he was gawking. “He always brings her freshly picked flowers” Naruto came into view with a smug look on his face. Kakashi hadn’t noticed until tonight how different with her in their life they had become. How both of them practically morphed into children right before his eyes. Naruto was feather light and cheerful while Sasuke was playful, thoughtful, and happy. They look so innocent he almost forgot they were shinobi, genin who’d soon participate in the chunin exams. He recounted to himself a time when he looked like them. When he too was happy and innocent. Just a boy and his father.

All of them fell in a silent stride as they began walking again. Crossing over a small bridge that brought them to their destination at last. Willow trees and what seemed like a thousand fireflies greeted them. There at the foot of the path stood the most beautiful wooden arch with yellow flowers twisting around it's bark. Dangling loosely from it a chipped wooden sign that read "Happy Birthday y/n. “I made that” Naruto’s face gleamed with all the pride of a not so masterful craftsman as he pointed his finger in the direction of if. Sasuke scoffed as he remarked how tacky he thought it looked. With an ego as big as his competition he stated how much better his lanterns were in comparison. Naruto glared at Sasuke, his eyes sharp as he retaliated with an insult of his own. There was no end to it, both of them going on and on about what y/n liked best. It was driving Kakashi a little crazy, having to go on missions with their insistent contest was one thing, but this was a whole other sort of annoying. The kind that made him so irritated that all the cool level headed temperament in the world couldn’t prevent the annoyed look on his face. He thought about home and his warm recliner. The green hardback book that he so often read to indulge his perverted mind. The faint feeling of heat coursing throughout his slightly reddening cheeks. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time and stick to his original plan. A plan that didn't involve two rowdy brats.

The house was a deep oak red with hints of a darker brown. It was large with a stairway above it that led to a smaller house. It had flags and a large telescope pointing toward the eastern sky.

The entire estate was homely and welcoming, the yard embedded with an even more alluring green. Fresh cut grass and lanterns that spread about it illuminating everything in its path. Nothing could make this scene before him more stunning he thought to himself as he looked all around in awe.

She descended from the steps, the most beautiful sight of all, Y/n. Her raven coils shining in the moonlight and her skin glistening like the surface of a smooth diamond. She was most certainly magical, the tail of her white dress flowing behind her when she walked a smooth glide only a goddess would have.

"Y/n" as fast as their feet would carry them Naruto and Sasuke ran to her open arms ruining her pretty dress even though she didn't seem to mind. She embraced them with a hug that only a mother would give her beloved children. When they parted Sasuke was the first to present his gift, a bouquet of wild flowers "Happy Birthday y/n". Her face lit up as she leaned over to kiss his exposed forehead and his face become even more redder than before.

From the distance where Kakashi stood he saw the pearls her pretty teeth, her full lips lifting the bones of her cheeks. The way her breast sat prettily in her clothes and the playful glint in her almond eyes. She seemed to get prettier as he came closer and his eye drifted downward and then up again taking in her full form. All of his former reservations escaped him,his heart thudding in his chest as he made his way closer. Yes, Just for tonight he'll indulge himself.

Author Notes: Trying to decide if this should just be a three part or more series. Next chapter will be released soon and it will contain light smut. Thank you for all your support!

[shirbertshitposts]

10 Shirbert Moments from Anne of Green Gables series I think about a lot

In honor of Valentines Day I thought I would post a list of some of my favorite Anne and Gilbert moments. It was hard to narrow it to just ten as I have been going through all nine books and trying to queue posts about all their iconic moments through the series; However I decided to pick the ones that I remember even when I haven’t read the books in a while. I didn’t have the heart to rank them properly so they’re just listed in chronological order.

1. His future must be worthy of its goddess

In the twilight Anne sauntered down to the Dryad’s Bubble and saw Gilbert Blythe coming down through the dusky Haunted Wood. She had a sudden realization that Gilbert was a schoolboy no longer. And how manly he looked—the tall, frank-faced fellow, with the clear, straightforward eyes and the broad shoulders. Anne thought Gilbert was a very handsome lad, even though he didn’t look at all like her ideal man. She and Diana had long ago decided what kind of a man they admired and their tastes seemed exactly similar. He must be very tall and distinguished looking, with melancholy, inscrutable eyes, and a melting, sympathetic voice. There was nothing either melancholy or inscrutable in Gilbert’s physiognomy, but of course that didn’t matter in friendship!

Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the Bubble and looked approvingly at Anne. If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy; but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert’s future there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess. Even in quiet Avonlea there were temptations to be met and faced. White Sands youth were a rather “fast” set, and Gilbert was popular wherever he went. But he meant to keep himself worthy of Anne’s friendship and perhaps some distant day her love; and he watched over word and thought and deed as jealously as if her clear eyes were to pass in judgment on it. She held over him the unconscious influence that every girl, whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; an influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals and which she would as certainly lose if she were ever false to them. In Gilbert’s eyes Anne’s greatest charm was the fact that she never stooped to the petty practices of so many of the Avonlea girls—the small jealousies, the little deceits and rivalries, the palpable bids for favor. Anne held herself apart from all this, not consciously or of design, but simply because anything of the sort was utterly foreign to her transparent, impulsive nature, crystal clear in its motives and aspirations.

-- Chapter XIX, Anne of Avonlea

2. For the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze

“What are you thinking of, Anne?” asked Gilbert, coming down the walk. He had left his horse and buggy out at the road.

“Of Miss Lavendar and Mr. Irving,” answered Anne dreamily. “Isn’t it beautiful to think how everything has turned out . . . how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne’s uplifted face, “but wouldn’t it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been NO separation or misunderstanding . . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?”

For a moment Anne’s heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.

Then the veil dropped again; but the Anne who walked up the dark lane was not quite the same Anne who had driven gaily down it the evening before. The page of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page of womanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain and gladness.

Gilbert wisely said nothing more; but in his silence he read the history of the next four years in the light of Anne’s remembered blush. Four years of earnest, happy work . . . and then the guerdon of a useful knowledge gained and a sweet heart won.

-- Chapter XXX, Anne of Avonlea

3. I just want YOU

“I have a dream,” he said slowly. “I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends—and YOU!”

Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her.

“I asked you a question over two years ago, Anne. If I ask it again today will you give me a different answer?”

Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer.

They lingered in the old garden until twilight, sweet as dusk in Eden must have been, crept over it. There was so much to talk over and recall—things said and done and heard and thought and felt and misunderstood.

“I thought you loved Christine Stuart,” Anne told him, as reproachfully as if she had not given him every reason to suppose that she loved Roy Gardner.

Gilbert laughed boyishly.

“Christine was engaged to somebody in her home town. I knew it and she knew I knew it. When her brother graduated he told me his sister was coming to Kingsport the next winter to take music, and asked me if I would look after her a bit, as she knew no one and would be very lonely. So I did. And then I liked Christine for her own sake. She is one of the nicest girls I’ve ever known. I knew college gossip credited us with being in love with each other. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered much to me for a time there, after you told me you could never love me, Anne. There was nobody else—there never could be anybody else for me but you. I’ve loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school.”

“I don’t see how you could keep on loving me when I was such a little fool,” said Anne.

“Well, I tried to stop,” said Gilbert frankly, “not because I thought you what you call yourself, but because I felt sure there was no chance for me after Gardner came on the scene. But I couldn’t—and I can’t tell you, either, what it’s meant to me these two years to believe you were going to marry him, and be told every week by some busybody that your engagement was on the point of being announced. I believed it until one blessed day when I was sitting up after the fever. I got a letter from Phil Gordon—Phil Blake, rather—in which she told me there was really nothing between you and Roy, and advised me to ‘try again.’ Well, the doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery after that.”

Anne laughed—then shivered.

“I can never forget the night I thought you were dying, Gilbert. Oh, I knew—I KNEW then—and I thought it was too late.”

“But it wasn’t, sweetheart. Oh, Anne, this makes up for everything, doesn’t it? Let’s resolve to keep this day sacred to perfect beauty all our lives for the gift it has given us.”

“It’s the birthday of our happiness,” said Anne softly. “I’ve always loved this old garden of Hester Gray’s, and now it will be dearer than ever.”

“But I’ll have to ask you to wait a long time, Anne,” said Gilbert sadly. “It will be three years before I’ll finish my medical course. And even then there will be no diamond sunbursts and marble halls.”

Anne laughed.

“I don’t want sunbursts and marble halls. I just want YOU. You see I’m quite as shameless as Phil about it. Sunbursts and marble halls may be all very well, but there is more ‘scope for imagination’ without them. And as for the waiting, that doesn’t matter. We’ll just be happy, waiting and working for each other—and dreaming. Oh, dreams will be very sweet now.”

Gilbert drew her close to him and kissed her. Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.

-- Chapter XLI, Anne of the Island

4. Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you.

"Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!"

Today has been a day dropped out of June into April. The snow is all gone and the fawn meadows and golden hills just sing of spring. I know I heard Pan piping in the little green hollow in my maple bush and my Storm King was bannered with the airiest of purple hazes. We've had a great deal of rain lately and I've loved sitting in my tower in the still, wet hours of the spring twilights. But tonight is a gusty, hurrying night . . . even the clouds racing over the sky are in a hurry and the moonlight that gushes out between them is in a hurry to flood the world.

"Suppose, Gilbert, we were walking hand in hand down one of the long roads in Avonlea tonight!"

Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you. You don't think it's irreverent, do you? But then, you're not a minister."

-- Chapter 9, Anne of Windy Poplars

5. Suitable Places

"(Are you sure you kiss me in suitable places, Gilbert? I'm afraid Mrs. Gibson would think the nape of the neck, for instance, most unsuitable.)”

-- Chapter 12, Anne of Windy Poplars

6. He narrowly escaped bursting with pride

"Anne, this is Captain Boyd. Captain Boyd, my wife."

It was the first time Gilbert had said "my wife" to anybody but Anne, and he narrowly escaped bursting with the pride of it. The old captain held out a sinewy hand to Anne; they smiled at each other and were friends from that moment. Kindred spirit flashed recognition to kindred spirit.

-- Chapter 6, Anne’s House of Dreams

7. Queen of my heart and life and home

"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like Leslie's?" she asked wistfully.

"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it is for the world," said Gilbert, with one or two convincing accompaniments.

You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair—or hair of any color but"—

"Red," said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction.

"Yes, red—to give warmth to that milk-white skin and those shining gray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair wouldn't suit you at all Queen Anne—MY Queen Anne—queen of my heart and life and home."

"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like," said Anne magnanimously.”

-Chapter 12, Anne’s House of Dreams

8.  Annest of Annes

But the best of all was when Gilbert came to her, as she stood at her window, watching a fog creeping in from the sea, over the moonlit dunes and the harbour, right into the long narrow valley upon which Ingleside looked down and in which nestled the village of Glen St. Mary.

"To come back at the end of a hard day and find you! Are you happy, Annest of Annes?"

"Happy!" Anne bent to sniff a vaseful of apple blossoms Jem had set on her dressing-table. She felt surrounded and encompassed by love. "Gilbert dear, it's been lovely to be Anne of Green Gables again for a week, but it's a hundred times lovelier to come back and be Anne of Ingleside."

-- Chapter 3, Anne of Ingleside

9. I couldn’t live without you

Anne felt like a released bird . . . she was flying again. Gilbert's arms were around her . . . his eyes were looking into hers in the moonlight.

"You do love me, Gilbert? I'm not just a habit with you? You haven't said you loved me for so long."

"My dear, dear love! I didn't think you needed words to know that. I couldn't live without you. Always you give me strength. There's a verse somewhere in the Bible that is meant for you . . . 'She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.'"

Life which had seemed so grey and foolish a few moments before was golden and rose and splendidly rainbowed again. The diamond pendant slipped to the floor, unheeded for the moment. It was beautiful . . . but there were so many things lovelier . . . confidence and peace and delightful work . . . laughter and kindness . . . that old safe feeling of a sure love.

"Oh, if we could keep this moment for ever, Gilbert!"

"We're going to have some moments. It's time we had a second honeymoon. Anne, there's going to be a big medical congress in London next February. We're going to it . . . and after it we'll see a bit of the Old World. There's a holiday coming to us. We'll be nothing but lovers again . . . it will be just like being married over again. You haven't been like yourself for a long time. ("So he had noticed.") You're tired and overworked . . . you need a change. ("You too, dearest. I've been so horribly blind.") I'm not going to have it cast up to me that doctors' wives never get a pill. We'll come back rested and fresh, with our sense of humour completely restored. Well, try your pendant on and let's get to bed. I'm half dead for sleep . . . haven't had a decent night's sleep for weeks, what with twins and worry over Mrs. Garrow."

--Chapter 41, Anne of Ingleside

10. Old love light

DR. BLYTHE:- “The old, old love light that was kindled so many years ago in Avonlea ... and burns yet, Anne ... at least for me.” 

ANNE:- “And for me, too. And will burn forever, Gilbert.” 

-- Page 189, The Blythes Are Quoted

Feel free to respond to this post with any of your favorite shirbert moments that I missed!

[idiotic-genius]

How to write an immersive scene

requested by @noa-i - check out their blog, they have amazing lists of helpful links to writing guides!

As a writer, it is mostly inevitable to get to the point in writing where you are questioning whether anyone will actually want to read what they have created. A question greatly important to writing something the reader gets hooked up with is: How do I lure them in and make them feel like they are part of something? Sometimes, writing immersive makes THE difference between a scene quick to skip over and a scene you can't take your eyes off. But how do you create immersion?

In this post: 1. Worldbuilding 2. Narrators 3. Writing visually 4. Setting the scene 5. Example to summarize

Step 1: Learn your own facts

It might be banal, since you are the author, to re-read your own notes and think about what you have written so far. However, to get the reader hooked up, make them INTERESTED. This is easily accomplished by creating a detailed fictional world that doesn't seem flat. It might be a tiring process, but it always pays off! Knowing exactly what kind of world your character finds themself in makes it a lot easier to fill in details that subconsciously make the reader believe they are dealing with an actual real-world instead of "just" a fictional one. But even though it may seem harsh, cutting out some details and facts might make the reader feel much more comfortable. Their mind wants to insert them into the universe they're reading about, so overloading them with too many unnecessary details can be just as defeating as giving them too little info. Here is a link to a great beginners-guide on worldbuilding.

Step 2: Know your narrator

As we all know, there are a bunch of different narrator types to pick from when starting a new story, and each of them is good for a different thing- reaching from the typical first-person narrator (The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson) over personal third-person (Warrior Cats, Harry Potter) to omniscient third-person (Anne of Green Gables) and biased third-person (A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). If you are writing an unbiased third-person narrator in your WIP, you can just skip this step. However, if you have any indication at all in your story as to who the narrator is, you might want to think about this more closely. The narrator is the bridge that connects the reader to the fictional world. To immerse the reader in a book, it's usually easiest to use the first-person narrator or the personal third-person narrator, because that way the reader will either imagine themself as the narrator or as a friend of the main character, which keeps them interested. If your narrator is an actual character in the story, it is necessary to keep their speech and description patterns consistent with themselves and the events of the story. For example, a character narrating that has never visited a school or similar should not use highly scientific words to describe what's going on, etc, because it will interrupt the reader's reading flow and disturb the immersion just as much as time skips do.

Step 3: Writing visually

After making sure you have the narrator and the world they're in all set, it's time to choose a writing style, more specifically, to decide the visuality of it. What I mean by that is that having a fictional world so flat it's boring is just as bad as not describing it in a way that delivers it in the way it deserves to be delivered. Picture it like this: Every scene starts in a white room, with neither windows nor doors. If you as the writer don't describe what is going on in that room and what it looks like, at best while keeping the narrator's character in mind while doing so (to make it "3D"), the reader will never know what is actually happening. This also includes adapting the length and complexity of sentences to the scene: In a combat scene, you will usually find short and cut-throat sentences to represent the intensity and living-in-the-moment mindset of a fight, however, in a meaningful conversation between two characters about a heavy subject, it's more likely that longer and more complex sentences are of use to mirror the narrator's deep thinking of the subject and their concentration on the conversation.

Step 4: Setting the scene

By setting the scene, you fill in this white room in the reader's mind, adding characters, sounds, furniture, windows, and scenery in general, while still leaving space for the reader to fill in the blanks. To find a middle between these two extremes is up to every individual writer and depends on the writing style. If you over-describe the room, the reader will know every detail about it, but it will take away their focus from what is actually happening in the scene. However, if you don't set the scene at all, the reader automatically makes up what the room might look like based on what they imagine, and then breaks out of the immersion as soon as you mention something, later on, to be in the room that they did not picture. For example, if you just say that A enters B's bedroom, the reader might quite as well imagine there to be small windows, some bookshelves, a standard bed, etc. If you don't set that up right in the beginning and later on mention that B has small windows, the books stacked on the floor, a bunch of plants, an aquarium, and a bunk bed, the reader will get confused because it doesn't fit what they had pictured before. So ask yourself: What is so important that the reader should know it before the scene actually starts? Context also matters in that case.

5. Example

In the following, I will write the same scene multiple times in different styles to illustrate what makes a difference in writing immersion. The scene goes as following: Jae falls into a dark room underground with a hooded, mysterious person waiting for him. The hooded person greets him and lights a candle, and in the emitting light, Jae realizes who he is talking to. Remember: These are more caricatures of the different writing styles than actual representation and are very overexaggerated, but you get the idea.

1. first-person narrator (Jae), scene not set properly, no visual writing, no consistency in speech pattern

After three seconds, I landed on something soft and realized I had landed in a chamber underground, slightly lit by the moonlight above me. I walked through the only doorway and found myself in a second room. A hooded figure in the middle of the dark lifted their arm. From the table beside them, they picked up a candle and lit it using a lighter. "Hello, Jae", they said, and in the newly emitting light, I recognized them in front of the fireplace.

-> feels flat and jumpy, gives no significance to the change of scenery

2. biased third-person narrator, scene set properly, overly descriptive visual writing, consistency in speech pattern

After falling for what felt like an hour, even though it was probably just a few seconds, Jae finally landed on something soft. Before even attempting to get up, he shivered at the fresh memory of what slimy, earthy, suddenly appearing tunnels felt like. He stared up through the hole at the moon and the stars, and immediately recognized the constellation of Cassiopeia, high up above him. Cassiopeia is said to have angered the Gods, so they gave her the gift of divination, but made it so that nobody would ever believe her prophecies, finally banning her into the sky as this constellation. Weirdly enough, the stars' pattern doesn't look like a woman, or a human, at all. Jae slowly stood up from where he landed and realized he had fallen onto a rather big cushion with a print of primroses in yellow, pink, red, and blue. He looked around in my new location and found himself stuck in a small portico with no windows at all and only one doorway. The walls seemed just as dirty and muddy as the tunnel he had fallen through, and as he looked closer, he spotted about a dozen small, pink worms slithering through the soil. The floor on the other hand was made out of dark wooden panels- if you wanted to call it a "floor". The pieces were just loosely stuck onto the earth underneath, and mud squeezed out from the gaps in between. Jae slowly walked over them and reached the doorway after just four steps. He saw a hooded figure standing in the center of the next room. The room had two sources of lighting: One, the moonlight shining through the disgusting tunnel, and two, a crackling fireplace. It looked like it belonged in a small cottage, being made out of red bricks and looking a little old with the small black-and-white pictures put on top of it. The flickering orange glim of the fire met the silvery-white shine of the moon in the middle of the room. On the right side, Jae saw a big old round table made out of similar wood as the floorboards outside. There were obvious scratches on it, some made by smaller knives, others bigger and maybe made by swords, with splinters on their edges. Apart from two, the fours chairs around it seemed just as maltreated, but the two others were polished and reflected the two light sources, with no scratch marks at all. On top of the table rested a metal candlestick with one slightly burned-down candle stuck inside it. The candlestick had a few scratches as well, on the side and at the bottom. "Hello, Jae", the figure said snarkily, with a voice deep and rough like sandpaper. They wore a black cape, smooth on what Jae could see of the inside and rough on the outside, with a big hood covering their hair and most of their face. A few of the blue buttons with a golden pentagram engraved on them were missing from the coat, and it was slightly ripped in a few places. One strand of dark hair fell into the person's eyes as they reached out for the candlestick, lighting the candle inside with a silver zippo-lighter. The lighter had small scratches as well as a few symbols on it. Slowly, the flame grew bigger and bigger, until the shine from below reached the figure's face. Jae's eyes went big as he realized who he was talking to.

-> little place for the reader's fantasy, but details make scenery deeper and less flat. This kind of description does make sense if the narrator/the character the narrator fixates on (Jae in this case) is very observant and/or intelligent because they will notice details that others don't. The question is whether those details are important enough to keep in the story.

3. first-person narrator (Jae), scene set properly, visual writing, consistent speech pattern

After what felt like an eternity of falling and silently begging not to die from the impact, I finally landed with my eyes squeezed shut. Okay, legs, arms, and head still in place... I slowly opened my eyes again, realizing I had landed on a soft pillow with a flower print. Cautiously, I got up, gazing up at the tunnel through which I had fallen. The view of the slimy earth made me shiver involuntarily as I blinked against the bright moonlight far above me. The sky was clear enough to see stars, which could have been far more enjoyable if it hadn't been for my miserable situation. I had landed in a small chamber underground, with a single doorway leading into a bigger room. The walls were just pure earth and seemed to swallow all noise, but when I took the first step, the sounds of my shoes on the dark wooden floorboards and of the mud squishing out from beneath them was louder than I had anticipated. I could hear the crackling of fire from the next room and see the orange glow as I made my way over to the doorway and took a glimpse into it. The room was not very big, but also not as small as the one I had landed in. There wasn't much space because of a wooden round table and four chairs, which all seemed very old and maltreated, judging from the scratches on them. I could make out a few pictures on the fireplace, and in front of that- "Hello, Jae." I had to suppress a gasp as I realized that I was not alone. In the middle of the room, right where the silvery moonlight and the orange glow of the fire met, stood a hooded figure. Their coat looked as old as the few pieces of furniture, with missing buttons and rips. I couldn't make out much of their face, even though I squinted my eyes, but the flickering light made it hard to see anything, let alone recognize. But that voice... Before I could come to a conclusion, the figure reached for a metal candlestick standing on the table and lit the candle inside with a silver lighter. As the flame grew bigger, they dispelled the shadows below the hood that had disguised the person's features before. I could feel my eyes get big as I finally realized who was standing before me.

-> Gives enough information to "fill the white room" without dwelling on details too much, shows the context of the story, gives Jae a consistent personality

So that's it for this post! I hope I managed to pass on a thing or two that I learned while researching and that this post will help you with your writing. Please acknowledge, I am not trying to attack anyone's style of writing!! If you write the way I wrote a "non-immersive" scene, it does NOT mean that your writing style is bad, let alone wrong, because the existence of many different writing styles is what keeps it individual and interesting! Find your own way and let nobody get you down :)

[gffa]

I swore for about ten entire minutes that I wasn’t going to do a set of recs for THE OLD GUARD, I was just going to watch the movie, indulge in a bit of fanart, and then I would be done. But then I was like HOW ABOUT I HAVE SOME FEELINGS INSTEAD? and here we are. So HAVE SOME FEELINGS ABOUT ANCIENT IMMORTALS AND REASONABLY ANCIENT IMMORTALS AND BABY IMMORTALS.  COME YELL ABOUT FEELINGS WITH ME, FANDOM. THE OLD GUARD RECS: ✦ An Unrecorded History by xpityx, joe/nicky, 1.1k    Joe closed the book and dropped it none too carefully on the table. He would have liked to have thrown it away—to prevent anyone else from reading it—but it was far too easy to make copies of books in these times, so he knew it would be no use. He also could not quite bring himself to discard something as precious as a book, no matter how poorly written it was. ✦ keep yourself alive for me by retts, joe/nicky, NSFW, 1.7k    Nicky grabbed Joe’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, not that there was any resistance from Joe. ‘If I remember correctly, this one has two bathrooms, doesn’t it?’ ✦ let’s give them something to talk about by lacecat, joe/nicky & andy/nile, nsfw, 4.8k    In which Nicky and Joe take liberties with recounting history, because it’s fun. ✦ Family Dinner by dadvans, joe/nicky & nile, 2.4k    The only time Nile ever sleeps a full night and feels remotely part of herself is when she stays with Nicky and Joe, who shampoo brains out of each other’s hair in the shower and clean their guns on the couch watching Chopped reruns. ✦ one burning candle, one wind-whipped flame by Dialux, joe/nicky & andy, 5.1k    Yusuf dies, and dies, and dies, and lives, as well, for a thousand years. Nicolo’s by his side for all of them, and it’s not quite the love story of eternity, but it’s theirs: and that’s enough for them both ✦ Future Days by maroon, joe/nicky & andy/noriko, 2.1k    “Then why untie me?” The man grins, terribly amused, and awfully affectionate. Andromache wants to look away, but for some reason, can’t. Maybe because the look in his eye reminds her of herself, a lifetime ago. “Because my beloved is soft, and kind, and will flay me alive if he’d known I tied up a woman.” ✦ Islands of Hours by RC_McLachlan, joe/nicky, 1.5k    There eventually comes a lull, and so they go to Malta. ✦ take out by j_gabrielle, joe/nicky & nile, ~1k    It probably should bother her when Joe kicks the door to the flat open and promptly marches in to deposit their takeout on the living room table. All while he is tracking half-dried blood and mud on the shiny tile floors. “You, ah,” Nile says even as she hurries to pick through the night’s offerings. “They let you on the subway like that?” ✦ all a smooth plain, and the soil deep by inlovewithnight, andy & nile & joe & nicky, 2.1k    After London, they all need to rest. ✦ we are golden by retts, joe/nicky, ~1k    Joe lowers his gaze to the open page on his lap. The sketch is of a man on a charging horse, hair and beard whipping in the wind, sword in one hand and a shield in the other. The eyes in the drawing are the same eyes watching him now. His Nicolo. 'You were a hard fucker to kill back then, Nicky.’ ✦ An eagle’s old age, a sparrow’s youth by BakedAppleSauce, joe/nicky, 2.2k    Joe comes shuffling back into the room, heavy footsteps that mean he’s either tired, or not really trying, or both. Familiar as breathing. Nicky’d recognize him anywhere, walking among a million of strangers. In which some people are laying low for a while, in more ways than one. ✦ A Most Forgetful Death by RC_McLachlan, joe/nicky, 1.2k    “You’re an incurable romantic,” Nicky says, and though his expression doesn’t so much as twitch, Joe can hear the laughter languishing between the words, can feel it on his tongue and rubbing up against his teeth when Nicky meets him halfway to smear a kiss against his mouth. ✦ Luce e ombre by sheafrotherdon, andy & nile, 1.2k    The discomfort is so new that it startles her, and she searches her memory to remember a time before she was immortal: a time when a cut, a scrape, a bruise hurt for longer than a moment, long enough to interrupt sleep. The memories don’t come ✦ When I Am with You by takethisnight_wrapitaroundme, joe/nicky, NSFW, 5.4k    “You… would like to waste a thousand euros’ worth of champagne by pouring it all over me?” Nicky has to repeat it aloud to make sure he’s heard right. While spending some quality time together on vacation in France, Nicky has a surprise for Joe. And Joe, as it turns out, has a surprise for Nicky. ✦ the common tongue of your loving me by spokenitalics, joe/nicky, NSFW, 1.4k    “It’s just— Do you ever wonder how much we’ve forgotten?” Nicky asks, eventually. “How many names and faces and places have just… faded away from our memory?” ✦ i have loved you for a thousand years by owilde, ~1k    It’s him. Again. Yusuf shields his eyes from the blinding desert sunlight, staring into the near distance where a man is stood, alone, a harsh silhouette cut against the bright blue sky and peach-coloured sand. ✦ this is why by retts, joe/nicky, 1.2k    Small as it was, they had their own room in the London safe house, which was a good thing because Joe was prying open Nicky’s mouth with his fingers. Not with his tongue, much as Nicky would prefer it, but with three calloused fingers sneaking inside his lips as if Nicky wouldn’t wake up from the intrusion. He was on his back, Joe pressed closer to him than his own shadow. The slant of moonlight from the window illuminated Joe’s dark eyes as he bent over Nicky. Joe sucked in the corner of his mouth, a tell that he’d never shaken off all these long centuries. ✦ I Found Peace in Your Violence by j_gabrielle, joe/nicky, 1.5k    5 Times Joe and Nicky kill each other + 1 (of many) times they killed someone together ✦ life is very long by kaydeefalls, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker & quynh & copley, 7.1k    Andromache tells him: “The Greeks used to have seven different words for love. Well. More, probably. But I remember seven.” She shrugs. “There are many ways to love one another, and life is long. We’ve time enough for them all. It’s the only thing that makes it worthwhile.” Nicky and his immortal family, over the centuries. ✦ take a breath by BeStillMySlashyHeart, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker, 1k    Once they are safe, Nicky and Joe take a moment together. ✦ Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (saellys), andy & nile & joe & nicky, 2.5k    “To the Art Institute of Chicago,” Andy echoes, “so that my breasts may be culturally appreciated in perpetuity.” She tips the bottle and lets out three drops. As they fall to the stone floor, Joe and Nicky rap their knuckles on the nearest pieces of metal: the other lantern for Nicky, the oxidized helmet for Joe. One rap for each drop. In another time, they might have struck their swords on shields. ✦ how we live by retts, joe/nicky, ~1k    Life, though, brings pain. Goddamn pain. Bullets that struck his cranium and pelvis – the big bones in the body – are forced out. The rest went through him, carrying organ tissue and muscle with them. Those lost bits have to be regrown. Bones realign and the ribs in his lungs retract so they can breathe again. So Nicky can breathe again. And when he breathes, he thinks, Yusuf. ✦ Paradeisos by Enneara, joe/nicky, 2.9k    Traveling through Greece with Yusuf after fleeing the Holy Land, Nicolò suffers a crisis of faith. ✦ The Language of Love by 1derspark, joe/nicky & andy/quynh & booker & nile, 4.5k    Or five times Nicky hears Joe speak his language and one time Nicky returns the favor. ✦ Le Vite by ScribeofArda, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker, 8k    Nicky breathes out. “What did I miss?” he asks, staring out at the hills. “Why didn’t I see this coming?” After everything, after finding Nile and losing Booker and Andy’s new mortality, Joe is pissed off. Nicky is just tired. ✦ The god of my idolatry by Petra, andy/nile, NSFW, 3.4k    “You said you were worshipped as a god.” “I was.” Nile steels herself and asks, “Would you like to do it again?” Andy laughs and throws back the contents of her glass. “They don’t teach you pick-up lines in the Marines, do they.” ✦ love is not over by retts, joe/nicky & andy & nile, 1.3k    'Babe, do you know what this reminds me of?’ asked Nicky. Joe licked his lips and tilted his head to the side, gaze intent on the mole on Nicky’s cheek. 'What?’ 'The first time you drew me.’ ✦ Case Analysis by skeeno, joe/nicky & andy & booker & copley, 3.4k    It’s not totally out of the ordinary for the people Copley meets in his line of work to be extraordinary. But he’s intrigued by these four. ✦ compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R, joe/nicky & andy & quynh, 11.9k    ‘You are a shame to your countrymen and the lowest of the low,’ Yusuf said, ‘and your mother copulated with a dog.’ ✦ Everything in moderation (even moderation) by BakedAppleSauce, joe/nicky, NSFW, 6.1k    The novelty has worn off, of course, but it’s not the novelty that keeps anybody coming back, anyway. Novelty never sustains anything. ✦ What the Water Takes by xpityx, andy & nile & quynh, 1k    Here is a secret she will never write down. ✦ Stracciatella by ScribeofArda, joe/nicky & andy & nile, 4.8k    “None of us have any evidence of the ways we have died,” Nicky continues. “But you remember the fall, don’t you? You remember the first time you died, the way your blood spilled out as your throat was slashed. I remember the first time I died, when the love of my life drew his sword across my neck as I drove mine into his chest and we both fell to the sand.”

[emily-the-fae]

Sound of a Heartbeat

Part 6. The Devil's Hospitality

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

And I am back from celebrating the summer solstice. Mosquitoe-bitten, red-haired and with a new chapter. Thanks for following the story if you still are, I'm very sorry that editing takes me so long. (STILL IN NEED OF A BETA). So yes, please enjoy and like&reblog&comment, because interaction with readers makes me extremely happy. Also please write in comments if you want me to tag you so that you don't miss the new parts.

Pairing: Dracula x OC

Warnings: none, a little bit of death threats and the usual tuberculosis part

"Maps used to say there'd be dragons here. Now they don't, but that doesn't mean dragons aren't there." ~ Lorne Malvo, "Fargo"

Shari began to open her eyes hesitantly, slowly when nothing rushed at her in the first few moments of her presence inside the castle. The healer was still extremely tense, ready to jump aside and try to fight off anything that tried to attack her. Nothing. Dark, still, terrifying, but also quiet and…empty. Lisa hadn’t told her a complete lie. Apparently, Dracula wasn’t home. Shari looked around the dark place she found herself in - she was standing in the middle of an enormous hall, columns going way up, she needed to raise her head to see the gothic arcs of the dark ceiling above her; two large round marble staircases in front of her led to the opening on the second floor and behind that space she could see a darkened entrance to an inner corridor. Shari could hear nothing but her own heartbeat and Rodo's husky breathing, the silence was almost ideal, her own quiet breathing echoed around the wide halls - the castle appeared to be completely empty, apart from her, Rodo and her ghastly companion. Lisa seemed frozen in awe for a while, looking around too, but with a kind of familiar melancholic look on her face - staring once again at the place she had spent so much time in must have felt odd. Odd and slightly painful. All the memories of her life, all the “what if”s of her never leaving this peculiar home or never finding it in the first place rushed in, frustrating her for a few moments. The ghost quickly recalled she needed to keep collected – for the sake of her new guest and the adventure she was planning ahead.

- Wait, Lisa! - Shari rushed to her side, afraid to be left alone even for one moment. Rodo hopped behind her easily. - We will go and grab books, yeah I get it, but... How do I... Where do I rest? I mean I need a bed and preferably next to a chimney and then after I wake up, I can study through whatever we need and search for whatever other materials I can need, sure, but I'd there... I mean it's kind of a vampire castle... - Shari trailed off and in a moment she was coughing again, heading to the supposed library entrance, but barely seeing her way.

- Wait, Lisa! - Shari rushed to her side, afraid to be left alone even for one moment. Rodo hopped behind her easily. - We will go and grab books, yeah I get it, but... How do I... Where do I rest? I mean I need a bed and preferably next to a chimney and then after I wake up, I can study through whatever we need and search for whatever other materials I can need, sure, but I'd there... I mean it's kind of a vampire castle... - Shari trailed off and in a moment she was coughing again, heading to the supposed library entrance, but barely seeing her way.

- That is quite funny of you, - Lisa responded, when Shari quieted down a bit. - To be asking me if you can have a normal bedroom in a vampire castle, especially since you know I've lived here for quite a long time.

- Yeah and married the host, - Shari argued breathlessly.

- What do you think vampires sleep in?

- Coffins?

- Don't be shallow.

- Well, sorry if didn't live with them for twenty years and didn't realise they may as well use beds... - Shari hesitated. - They do, right? Because if you were implying that you want me to sleep in your old room, then thanks I'd better sleep on library floor.

- You'll take one of the guestrooms, - Lisa rolled her eyes. - And you have to get there soon, otherwise you'll collapse and I am in no form to drag you up the stairs.

- Oh, you've finally noticed, - Shari huffed. - I hope there will be a very - no, extremely - warm chimney, - she added, shivering.

- As you wish, - answered the ghost, pushing the heavy door. They walked into the library together, careful not to make any noise and Shari had to catch her breath: of course she had expected something like this, but neither the size of the room nor the abundance of different apparatuses and strange objects could have ever been embraced by her imagination - it seemed like one lifetime would never be enough to study through all the centuries of knowledge kept in these walls.

- Wow.

- Well, that… is one way to place it, - Lisa laughed, amused with the healer's surprise. - Come, - she beckoned. - Take this, this... oh, and this, - she walked to one of the tall shelves, pointing to several books for Shari to take. - Oh, wait, I forgot, can you...?

- Read? You ask only now? You offend me, - Shari threw the ghost an unamused glare, her hands loaded with heavy foliants. Lisa laughed, obviously the question was only poorly hidden sarcasm. Rodo behind her back was running around the room, smelling the air with curiosity - if he ever visited the castle before, she doubted that he was let anywhere near the living areas.

- Well, you never know with people these days, - Lisa replied. - These must have something on your lung disease, as far as I remember - or some similar things - you'll need to go through lung sections, compare the symptoms and check what might work for you.

- Will try to, - the girl nodded, weighting the books in her arms and already estimating how much time she may possibly have for all that study.

- Come on now, don't waste time, - Lisa was too enthusiastic to be a ghost inside of an abandoned vampire castle. Far too enthusiastic. Something must have been off, but Shari couldn’t place what and couldn’t possibly be able to do so in her exhausted state.

Shari followed her down another large door and out of the library; there was a narrow staircase leading somewhere upstairs, dark and empty, just like the rest of the place – the golden lights of the library couldn’t reach into its curves, so Shari had to watch her step carefully. She was not sure how many floors they passed before they finally left the stairs and turned into a dark corridor lit only by the moonlight, falling from a small window way in front of them. Shari felt cold and slightly anxious for no evident reason - the whole place had an intense, intimidating mood to it – as expected. Lisa made a few more steps and stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. Shari hesitated once more, but Lisa nodded towards it encouragingly; the girl then freed one of her hands from underneath the books and pushed the door open, stepping into the room more confidently.

A big four-poster bed, a fireplace, a wardrobe and a table with a chair placed by the window. Old, slightly dusty, but more than enough for her to rest her head. Shari threw the books on the table and lit the fire in no time, sinking down on her knees to warm her freezing fingers. After several days of survival and freezing, she could finally heat and rest. Rodo crawled to the corner of the room and lay down there calmly, hiding his clawed paws beneath himself and seemingly beginning to drift off, Lisa stood by the window, facing away, staring into the darkness, seemingly already detached from what was happening within the walls of the castle. The door was locked - pointlessly, as a bow to paranoia - the fire was burning nicely - how good it was to finally feel its warmth - the room was silent apart from its creaking and Shari knew she herself was starting to fall asleep.

She stood up from her place by the chimney, checked the door once more and threw herself on the bed, kicking off her boots and crawling under the heavy blankets. Now she wanted nothing more than sleep - sleep and warmth of the chimney to ease her cold, the soreness of her limbs and the pain in her lungs. Lisa slowly dissolved in the corner of the room, but even that didn't seem to be a problem to the healer - she would catch up with the ghost tomorrow, get to her reading and preferably medicine. Now - rest.

Shari rolled into a ball under the covers and surrendered to the long awaited sleep.

***

Dracula was returning to his home after two days of absence; following his son proved counterproductive - apart from assuring, that the boy didn't have it easy with the demons, there was not much more he could do. The group held together, never separated - not after they became three instead of four. That was almost a pitiful chain of events. Though it did make them less vulnerable to his attacks and he decided not to rush things - the speed at which they traveled bought him more than enough time for any further proceedings.

The world outside was crushed and burned by war. The world inside his castle was dark and hollow as usual. At least it was so normally - but surprisingly, not that night.

Dracula knew there was an intruder in his castle the moment he entered – there was no way he wouldn’t have noticed; the vampire had to stop on his tracks, trying to detect what caught him off guard, and then he finally felt it - the smell of the human was very subtle, but still there. He tracked her down(undeniably this one was a female, he could almost recognize that mix of cinnamon and lavender as if he had encountered it before) - from the main entrance to the library - pausing by the shelves for a moment, a few foliants were missing here and there with the traces of her human warmth still hovering around the place - and upstairs to one of the rooms - just like the guestroom Lisa stayed at when she first found him.

The door was expectably locked, but as soon as the vampire's nail trailed along the keyhole, the lock clicked by itself, opening up. Dracula expected a lost and tired stranger or a hopeful witch seeking out his help and teaching, but when he opened the door, letting himself inside, he finally understood why her smell seemed so familiar to him. The girl from the forest camp, his son's willing helper, witch and healer by her own words. The vampire was surprised to say the least. He had been quite sure she was gone for good; in the end he had tried his best to give her a peaceful death and yet here she was: alive, breathing and in his castle. Sleeping peacefully, having willingly crawled under his roof and left herself at his mercy.

The vampire entered the room quietly, shutting the door behind him and sitting down in the chair by the table, his eyes observing the human figure on the bed. Petite, blond haired and pale - the girl looked so similar to Lisa, but yet was nothing like her - no, the darker tint to her hair and the weakness of her tired body drew the distinction quite clearly, as well as the reddish mark standing out against her pale neck. A mark he left on her.

He briefly wondered how that weak creature managed to survive his bite, but he would set the question aside for the time being. He needed to decide what to do with his guest: the easiest option was to finally enjoy the remnants of her sweet living blood without interruption now, but one look at the pale sleeping form made him suddenly feel doubtful: her chest heaving as she breathed, her heartbeat slow and peaceful, she coughed in her sleep dryly and turned on her back, her arms spread across the bed, she faced away from him with the crook of her neck so temptingly open to his view - so calm and vulnerable. How are you still alive? Dracula suddenly for himself felt rather than decided that he would not end her, not yet and not here, that he wanted to know more: how she found him, what she wanted and what may come of her - after all, he hadn't had such bold human visitors, ever since...

***

Dim light was shining through the window, strands of it falling onto her face and disturbing her peaceful sleep. Shari moved about a bit, wincing at the pain in her limbs and the full ache somewhere deep in her chest, letting a few (thankfully) dry coughs pass her lips, trying to hide away from the morning rays, hoping for a few more minutes of the blissful unconsciousness, then finally stilled, opening her sleepy eyes and sitting up. The instant she did so, she knew something was very wrong: the room was identical to how it looked the evening before, but she felt it still – even the air seemed denser, more dangerous and alert. She felt a shiver run down her back – as she finally noticed it, on the wall before her, next to the door, she could see a large dark shadow of something standing in front of the window, cutting off the light. Please let it be something outside. Shari turned her head slightly to the left and saw Rodo crouched on the ground - worried and tense, looking in the direction of something behind her back; the healer suddenly had absolutely no wish to turn around. Maybe if she would stay still the thing - whatever it was - would go away and leave her alone.

The sound of movement behind her back announced her that her stillness would most probably not protect her - whatever it was, it was inside of the room and very much uncaring of whether she moved or not.

- I think I have already killed you once this week, - Shari jumped on the spot and turned abruptly to finally face her host: Dracula was leaning against the table and staring down at her, his sharp face unreadable. - You are quite persistent for a human, I dare say. And bold.

Shari leaped out of the bed, as if a bucket of ice cold water was spilled over her, and backed away from him until her back hit the stone wall, her eyes searching for Lisa frantically – but the ghost was nowhere to be seen. Not this again. The vampire crossed the room in a swift, undetectable motion, his figure appearing in front of her in a matter of seconds. Rodo growled at his master, but remained motionless, still afraid to step out against the vampire.

Shari tried to move away, slip out of his grasp before he could properly get ahold of her, possibly even reach the door and run down the stairs - anything - but a large clawed hand grabbed her throat suddenly and firmly and the healer found herself unable to breathe properly, gasping and coughing in his hold, trying to wriggle away. Where was Lisa when she was so needed? "Oh no, Dracula is rarely visiting this castle nowadays!" Sure, like there was ever any point in believing that.

- How did you find this place? - Dracula growled rather than asked. His grasp was tight and Shari felt panic rise inside as if she was already in the claws of Death itself. Not far from truth.

"Your dead wife dragged me all the way here."

- Rumours. Mostly. And a bit of luck, - she rasped, out of breath.

- What do you want?

"Out."

- Shelter. And knowledge. I know there are books here that can help me heal, - she coughed and tried to free herself, once again unsuccessfully.

- And you expected the castle to be empty? - he almost laughed.

"No, but your beloved wife is a big liar."

- I recognize it was incredibly stupid of me, but back then it seemed like a plan, - oh yes, a plan of a very annoying and untrustworthy ghost.

- Are you alone here?

"Apart from a mean ghost and your demon..."

- Yes! - she gritted her teeth, as his hand pressed her farther into the wall.

- Give me one reason, human, not to finish now what I started a few days ago, - he was growling now even deeper, his face close to hers and she wondered how painful it may be this time. She did not want to find out.

- When I'm here I can't help Adrian! - she replied quickly, rasping each word.

- Same as when you are dead, - came the answer, his head leaning down to the crook of her neck. She shrieked.

- Repeating the same action and awaiting a different outcome of it is the definition of insanity, - Shari blurted out, not fully aware of her own words. What the hell was this even about? - You have ready killed me once, remember? I should have died back then, but something kept me going. You killed me and it didn't work. And you are not insane, are you?

Dracula suddenly removed his hand from her throat, laughing and took a small step back - as soon as he did so, she could feel against herself the growling form of Rodo who jumped in front of the human, protecting her from his master. Shari slid to the floor and threw her arms around the creature's neck, holding it to herself and caressing the dark fur. The vampire stared at the demon with a dissatisfied gaze, but the beast held his ground firmly now.

- You are a particularly peculiar human being, healer, - the vampire laughed. - That was the most unsettling answer you could have given.

- Was it? - she rasped, catching her breath. He smirked, knowing well he would not eat her now; he was too amused to make her his meal. - I can leave if you want, I will... - Shari searched for words. What exactly was she going to do if he made her leave? Crouch down on his porch and die?

- You are a curious specimen... Besides it likes you for some reason, - Dracula nodded towards Rodo. - You may stay until you annoy me out of my patience, - he stated blankly, instantly hating how welcoming he was being towards the human.

- Thank you. Making me leave would have been unfortunate and embarrassing to no limit, - Shari spoke quickly with no intonation, calming her rapidly beating heart. That was unexpected, but appreciated and she tried to be as short and non-annoying as possible as to not make him change his mind.

- Rest, use the library, and try to stay out of my line of sight. And remember I could still decide to draw a conclusion to our previous meeting, - he walked out of the guestroom, almost slamming the door behind him. So much for hospitality, but at least she wasn't being kicked out. Or eaten, for that matter.

Shari breathed in deeply and caressed Rodo's head and neck. What has she gotten herself into? Where the hell did Lisa disappear to?

[ends-of-the-wayward-storm]

The Big Four--Through Moonlight--Book 1

Chapter 11--Birds of a Feather

_______

Summary

Why something decided to bring so many different people together from so many different places was beyond them. But it had to be for good reason. And that reason just happens to be an elusive enemy who is searching for a powerful artifact, one with an unfathomable amount of knowledge.

There was definitely one thing in question, however—was this enemy the real deal, or something else?

(AO3 version) (First chapter)

[This is a little longer than my usual chapters since any other way I tried to divide this didn’t flow correctly.]

_______

Varian had been unusually quiet this morning. Then again, he hadn’t seen him at all. Of course, there was the chance he was sleeping in today.

He was probably using his inventions again last night.

“Afternoon, Quirin!” a villager greeted.

“Afternoon,” the man replied. Maybe Varian was up by now. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen my son around, have you?”

“Can’t say I have. Isn’t he usually running around by now?”

“Usually. . . .” Quirin rubbed his chin in thought. Varian was probably back at the house. Working on his inventions again. I hope he stays away from those rocks.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Quirin. He’s probably busy with those contraptions of his.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“And if it makes you feel any better I’ll let you know if I see him around.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.”

~ ~ ~

“. . . and even though she was kind of intimidating at first, she turned out to be a very sweet person,” Rapunzel explained. “Not to mention she has a pretty amazing voice.”

“And you’re telling me the Captain actually sang?” Eugene asked in disbelief. “Now that is something I would pay to hear!”

“Never thought of my dad as a guy who could sing,” Cassandra added. Fidella snorted as if to agree, and Maximus appeared to be in disbelief.

The group came to the entrance of Old Corona, and they were immediately greeted by the villagers. Rapunzel, of course, smiled and waved to everyone, and Pascal even stood proudly from atop her shoulder to wave to the passing people.

After a few minutes, the princess dismounted Maximus with her companions following suit. “I wonder if Varian’s up to anything exciting.”

“If by exciting you mean potentially explosive then yeah. Totally,” Eugene said.

“So he’s a little . . . accident-prone. That just means he gets . . . really caught up in his work?” Up ahead, Rapunzel spotted Quirin speaking with some villagers. “Quirin!”

He glanced in her direction and exchanged a few more words before walking over to them. “Ah Princess. What brings you to Old Corona?”

“Just wanted to see how the village was doing.”

“That’s very kind of you, Your Highness. Everything’s in order here so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“That’s great to hear. By the way, is Varian around?”

“I haven’t seen him all day. He might be working on those inventions of his again and lost track of time.”

Rapunzel frowned. Quirin didn’t seem very convinced of that. In fact he almost looked like he was trying to convince himself that that was the case. Or maybe she was just overthinking things. “All right. Well um, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Choosing not to think much of it, Rapunzel headed for Varian’s house. I guess he must be really focused on his work. She knocked politely on the door. “Varian? It’s me Rapunzel. Cass and Eugene are here, too.”

Nothing.

“We uh, just wanted to drop by to say hi!”

Absolute silence. Not even Ruddiger made a sound.

“Varian?” Still no response.

“. . . This isn’t like him,” Cassandra said.

Rapunzel shared a glance with her companions. “Uhh . . . we’re coming in!” She opened the door, and Cassandra and Eugene peeked in from behind her. Varian’s desk was tidy in a messy sense with beakers, papers, and a few devices on it. Some black rock spikes were coming up through the ground, and one spike in particular had some white on its tip. Other than that, nobody was inside.

“Guess he’s not home,” Eugene said.

“Or he could be in another part of the house,” Cassandra suggested. “But then again, if he were, he would’ve heard you knocking.”

Rapunzel stepped inside. “Well, he’s still trying to figure out the mystery behind these black rocks.” One rock glowed for a bit when she neared it, and she stepped away from it. And of course Cassandra’s sharp eyes caught the notion.

“I think we should head back outside.”

“I agree with Cass on this one, Blondie,” Eugene said. “There’s no telling what these rocks will do.”

“I know, I know,” Rapunzel said. “It’s just . . . something doesn’t feel right.” She glanced to the moon through a window before her eyes drifted down to Varian’s desk. “It looks like he was in the middle of something here. And I’m sure he wouldn’t leave something unfinished like this.”

“Maybe he was half asleep?” Eugene said.

“Maybe. . . .” Rapunzel held her chin. “Let’s try asking around.”

~ ~ ~

Varian was the last one to hop onto dry land, and he turned toward the ice bridge Elsa had made. Like the other one she had made earlier, it was strong and virtually perfect. And it was made with hardly any effort whatsoever. “Fascinating. . . .” Who knew there were others out there with magic like Rapunzel? Or, well, something that looks like magic.

“Tell me about it,” Kristoff said with smirk, chewing on one of the cooked tussock sedge roots Merida had prepared. “It’s completely flawless.”

“Okay, so, what’s our progress?” Hiccup asked.

Charles peered into the jar containing the moonbeam. So far its flickering had only increased a tad bit. “It’s not much, but we’re still on the right track.”

“All right. Let’s keep moving.” Not too far up ahead of them, the group spotted a long path of thorns that were roughly as tall as Kristoff.

“Quite a lot of thorns there,” Chane said. “I don’t think we’ll be able to cut our way through.”

“Then we burn our way through,” Régine said matter-of-factly. Elsa managed to catch the flower in the princess’s hair actually brightening a bit, and she wondered if it was just a trick of the mind.

“Wouldn’t we burn the whole place down?” Anna said.

“Not unless I’m careful.”

“Ah’d rather we cut our way through,” Merida said. “But we need to get to that book before that witch does.”

Chane sighed. “Do be mindful of everything else around the thorns, Régine.”

“W-wait. Isn’t the dragon supposed to do the burning?” Varian asked.

Régine simply smirked, and Chane took her cloak from her arm. She raised her arms halfway and bent them, and her hands became alight with flames. Toothless made an odd noise as she sent the flames toward the thorns little by little, slowly walking forward.

The group carefully followed her from a safe distance, nervously watching the flames occasionally nick the earthen walls and greenery on either side of them. But eventually they made it to the other side without Régine burning the whole swamp down.

“You have magic,” Elsa realized. “I thought I was the only one.”

“I as well,” Régine said. “Although I had been meaning to ask you about yours for a while now.”

Elsa smiled at her, and the group continued forward.

“Your dress is beautiful.”

“Thank you, and your flower is amazing.”

Régine smiled. “I did actually craft a dress myself once.”

"Really?"

"Of course, I did decide to retire it after some time."

“Elsa also made an entire palace of ice,” Anna added.

“Wait. You made an entire building?” Chane asked.

“That’s actually pretty impressive,” Hiccup said.

“Her Highness also crafted a castle as well,” Charles said.

“It wasn’t entirely made in good spirits. . . .” Régine admitted.

“I’d like to see it one day,” Elsa said. “If that’s all right with you.”

“I’m not sure if you’d fare very well since you wield ice and snow.”

Elsa frowned in thought. She honestly hadn’t thought about that. But she figured it was probably a case since they were opposites. “Then maybe just seeing the outside would be safer. Just in case.”

“Wouldn’t it be the same for Régine with Elsa’s ice palace?” Varian guessed. “Scientifically speaking, of course.”

“Hmm. I suppose that would make sense,” Régine said.

“There is the chance that you guys might not even be affected,” Hiccup suggested. “Maybe your powers might cancel each other out.” Probably like Toothless’s plasma and the Skrill’s lightning.

“Then we won’t know unless we try, will we?”

Merida stopped in her tracks, leading the others to come to a halt. Ahead of the group was what appeared to be the entrance of some ominous-looking ruins. A somewhat curving bridge of land led up to it, but below that was dark water that looked a bit too deep for anyone’s taste.

Charles glanced to the moonbeam, and the flickering became more frequent. “Well, the moonbeam says that’s the way to go. Even though it does seem like the perfect spot for more of those monsters to show up.” He turned to Varian. “Do you mind holding this?”

“Uh sure.” Varian carefully handled the jar, and the moonbeam seemed to briefly flash as if in greeting. “Light in a jar. I wonder if I’d be able to pull this off. . . .”

“I seriously doubt that,” Kristoff said.

“Besides,” Régine added, “it’s no ordinary moonbeam.”

Chane, Charles, and Kristoff took to the front with their respective weapons in hand, climbing an uphill path to the right. Elsa had Anna behind her while Régine stood beside the snow queen, and everyone else took to the rear.

“Y’know we might run into those other people here,” Hiccup said.

“Isn’t this enough people to find one book?” Varian asked.

“It-it is. But that girl Elsa, Anna, and Kristoff ran into isn’t alone. And whoever her ally is might be just as powerful as her. Maybe even more powerful.”

Varian exchanged a look with Ruddiger. “Well. Good thing we have an advantage in numbers amiright?”

A horrid screech suddenly filled the air, and the group covered their ears. Something dark and seemingly made of bark was rapidly coming toward them, and Toothless fired at the being. The creature tucked its wings in and spun out of the way before extending its talons toward them with a screech.

“Duck!” Hiccup warned.

Its talons breezed over the group, missing them by inches. Letting out an angry screech, it began to circle around.

“Run, before it comes back!” Chane said.

The group hurried along the green strip of a bridge, and Anna risked a look over her shoulder before gasping.

“It’s coming back!” she yelped.

Régine fired at the creature that dodged again, and it readied to swoop down upon them. The moonbeam flickered fearfully as Varian felt something wrap around him and abruptly hoist him up. He found himself and Ruddiger screaming, and everyone’s attention shot upwards.

“Varian!” they shouted.

“Ohhh it got Hiccup, too!” Anna exclaimed.

Varian frantically looked to the right to see Hiccup tightly within the grasp of the creature’s other foot and also screaming. With a roar, Toothless leapt over the group and tailed the creature.

“Hang on!” Kristoff exclaimed.

“And don’t let go of that jar!” Chane added.

Merida fired an arrow at one of its wings, and the creature howled in pain. It released its hold on the two boys as it began to spiral down toward the ruins, and Toothless leapt across the ditch as best as he could. Just as the thought of making a platform flashed into Elsa’s mind, Toothless caught the boys and crashed onto solid ground.

“Phew! Thanks bud.” Hiccup glanced over to Varian, who was gripping onto a shaking Ruddiger. “You all right?”

“Yeah. I think so,” Varian said, his voice shaking. In the jar, the moonbeam was flickering fearfully.

“Guys!” Anna called as the others caught up. “Oh my gosh, are you guys okay?”

“We’re all right,” Hiccup said. But the tiger lily in Régine’s hair flared.

“You could’ve gotten them killed!” she snapped.

“Would you rather ah let that beast take off with them?!” Merida fired back.

“I would rather you not almost get them killed!”

Merida opened her mouth to retort when Chane stepped in.

“Now’s not the time to argue,” he reprimanded. “And what matters is that they weren’t almost killed and that they weren’t taken by that thing.”

Both girls glared at each other, but another angry screech filled the air, jerking everyone’s attention to the giant vulture-like creature now on its feet. Its glowing bluish green eyes held a wild fierceness to them, and it still managed to look threatening despite its injured wing.

“That thing is still here!” Varian stressed. The creature screeched to the sky, and several more screeches forced the group to cover their ears. Reinforcements sounded again, and smaller versions of the creature darted toward the group.

“Incoming!” Anna said.

~ ~ ~

It was sunset by now, and there was still no sign of Varian. Quirin was beyond worried and had been constantly going over the events of last night for any sign of Varian having reason to sudden disappear. But nothing seemed to point in that direction.

“Where could he have gone?” Rapunzel asked as she was pacing.

“He might be in the main village,” Eugene said.

“Maybe, but someone would’ve at least seen him leaving,” Cassandra said. “And everyone in the village hasn’t seen him at all today.”

“Someone must’ve taken him,” Quirin said.

“But who would take Varian?” Eugene said. “He’s a good kid!”

“Maybe we’re still missing something,” Rapunzel suggested.

“Let's just head back and see if anyone’s seen him there. It's our best bet now.”

The princess thought for a few moments. “Eugene has a point. We should head back and see if Varian's there.”

“In the meantime I’ll gather a search party and keeping looking here,” Quirin said.

“And we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Quirin’s smile held a hint of sadness to it. “Thank you, Princess.”

“We’ll find Varian. I promise.”

With a bit of a happier smile, Quirin left, and Rapunzel sighed before heading off to find Maximus and Fidella.

“Okay. Real quick. What do we know so far?”

“Varian’s seemingly up and vanished, and no one in the village has seen him today,” Eugene said.

“Aside from minor annoyances, there also doesn’t seem to be any big grudges against him that we know of,” Cassandra said. “Even though it hardly seems like Varian would have some enemies. Or rivals.”

“Which leads us to the theory that someone must’ve taken him for whatever reason,” Rapunzel concluded. “The question is, who would be a sus—hmm? What is it, Pascal?”

Pascal crawled down her arm and stopped on the palm of her hand, and he pointed to a stream of light. Rapunzel’s eyes trailed the light to its source, finding it to be the moon.

“That’s weird.”

“Isn’t it a little early to be seeing moonlight?” Cassandra said. “Assuming it’s not light reflecting off of something.”

Curious, Rapunzel walked toward it. It looked like regular moonlight. And it was a full moon tonight. Plus she doubted stars could shine that brightly. Then again she did think the lanterns were stars once. But this time she was sure the light wasn’t from a star.

She looked up at the moon. Last time she checked there weren’t any special moons coming up. Maybe the rocks have something to do with it. No, that can’t be it. There aren’t any rocks around. . . .

Settling on passing it off with a shrug, Rapunzel faced Cassandra and Eugene. “Anyway, let’s head back and see if we can find—”

Something cold bumped into her ankle, and she looked down at a jar with—

“Wow. . . .” Rapunzel picked up the jar, captivated by the silvery light inside of it. “This is beautiful. Where did this come from?”

“I don’t mean to sound crazy, but I think it came from that light,” Cassandra said. As if in reply, the light flickered almost excitedly.

“I’m sorry can that . . . giant firefly understand us?” Eugene said.

“I don’t think this is a firefly, Eugene,” Rapunzel said. “I think it’s. . . .” She glanced to the matching beam behind her, and realization slowly crept in. “Moonlight. Inside a jar.”

“Last time I checked light goes through glass.”

The moonbeam inside jerked Rapunzel toward the bigger beam, and she yelped as she tried to pull the jar back.

“And doesn’t move around like that.”

The moonbeam continued to try jerking Rapunzel toward the moonlight.

“Woah!” she grunted. “This is some seriously strong moonlight!”

Stubbornly the moonbeam fought against Rapunzel’s might, but with one final jerk she stumbled right into the moonlight and disappeared.

“Rapunzel!” Eugene and Cassandra exclaimed.

_______

(First chapter) (Next chapter) (Previous chapter)

[heyyyharry]

Harry is a demon, and Y/N is just really nice

Word count: 2.8k

Warning: smut

I suck at writing one shots and always add too much world-building, and now there's a whole book series plot in my head. But oh well. Let me know if you want more of them. Part 2 will only be available on Patreon.

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Harry never considered himself a gentleman. He couldn't recall the last time he'd done something remotely gentlemanly. He never got up on the train or a bus when there was no seat left and an old lady with a cane got on. He almost pushed a guy into the train track the last time he'd ridden the tube; in his defence, the bloke was a tourist, so who hadn't thought about pushing a tourist into the train track before? So it took everything in him now not to strangle this mortal girl after she'd woken him up at 1 AM and dragged him here.

"It won't take long," Y/N said, taking him by the hand and pulling him down the aisle.

They were the only ones in the library. Every person and object in this house was asleep. After midnight, the house was as quiet as a graveyard. The only sound you could hear on a peaceful evening such as this one was the rustling of leaves outside the windows.

Harry's heart thumped with every one of their footsteps across the wooden floor. The library was so big that even a whisper echoed. He never understood how his great great great uncle had chosen to build such a huge library and filled it with so many books that stacked up all the way from the floor to the ceiling. Four walls were covered by books. All dusted up and abandoned for decades.

Y/N was the only one who came in here often, and she cleaned up sometimes, but she couldn't possibly clean every corner of this old place.

"You better give me a good reason not to kill you," Harry said with a growl when she released his hand and they had reached the wall at the end of the aisle.

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming. And now he was curious about her new discovery that made her unbothered by his threat of killing her.

"I found this book." Her grin reached her eyes as she pulled a hardback out of a shelf. It was pretty old, the leather cover dirty and torn at the corners. Y/N opened it and Harry started coughing and waving his hand in front of his face, dust floating in the moonlight streaming through the oval windows above the bookcase.

Y/N dragged her fingers down the page and stopped at one paragraph. "Okay, here it says that a demon is free of his chains when..."

"When he's collected 666 pure souls," Harry rolled his eyes, "are you mansplaining me right now? This was in Demon 101."

Y/N blinked in surprise. "You had a class called Demon 101?"

"No. That was sarcasm."

Y/N didn't seem amused. "Also, it's not mansplaining because I'm a woman."

"You're human. So it's mansplaining." Then, he jabbed a finger at her face and she flinched, her back hitting the shelf behind her with a thud. "I can gladly waste a pure soul and kill you now so I can go back to sleep."

"No, listen!" She circled around him and stood in front of him. Despite his annoyance, she went on reading the content on the page. "A demon is free of his chains when he gives up his immortality."

Harry arched an eyebrow as Y/N's smile grew. "So there is a way to save you."

"Errr, that is even worse than having Lucifer burn me to ashes."

"How? Being human is great."

He eyed her up and down. "Says you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you suck, and this is stupid."

Y/N seemed offended. Good. She should be.

"Just think about it, you sold your soul when you were twenty, and according to this book, you could go back to being twenty again. You'd rather suffer for eternity than be human?" she asked.

"Wrong." He held up a finger to her nose. "I'd rather finish my job, then get released from my contract, and live a life as an immortal. I don't want to die of old age. And this book–" he grabbed the book from her hand and clapped it shut, making her jump, " –is not correct. Well, at least not entirely. Maybe this is an old version that existed centuries ago when humans had a much shorter lifespan. With the new laws of the Underworld, if I ever agreed to give up my immortality, I would become human again, but then Time would catch up with me and I'd die instantly."

"Oh."

Harry rolled his eyes at the disappointment on Y/N's face. "Sweet that you're trying to help, but don't think you can outsmart me."

She stayed silent and watched him put the book back on the shelf. He turned back to her, about to tell her off, but now that his anger had cleared and the sleepiness had faded, he finally noticed her standing there in her nightdress. She caught his intense stare and pulled her cardigan close to cover her revealing chest.

A smirk tugged at his mouth. He advanced, and she quickly withdrew. One step, two steps, three steps. Her back hit the shelf and she froze. He leaned in until he could feel her breath shudder in his presence.

"But why are you so passionate about helping me, little human? Tell me," he sighed and her chest heaved as well, "what would you gain from that, hmm?"

“N-Nothing.” She blinked fast, unable to look him in the eyes. “I-I was just trying to help.”

“Aww, what a pure soul you are.” He rested a hand on the shelf behind her head and watched her flinch. A grin tugged at his lips. “Look, I appreciate that. But I am a demon, and I’m going to take your soul. At least pay me some respect and pretend to be terrified of me.”

“But I am not,” she said, sounding a bit bolder as her gaze met his. “I’m not afraid of you, Harry. I actually feel sorry for you.”

“Is that so?”

“All this and for what? You’ll forever live a lonely life.”

“Keep going. You need to try harder to hurt my feelings.”

“Well, then.” To his surprise, she straightened her back and crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re not getting my soul.”

“Excuse–”

“I said what I said. I’m not signing the contract.”

“You said I had a year to change your mind.”

“Well, my mind is made.”

She duck under his arm to escape, but he was quick to take hold of her wrist and pin it above her head. His other hand shot out to catch her other wrist before she could hit him or push him or whatever intention she was having in that little head of hers.

“Listen, little human,” he said, his face so close to hers he could see himself in her eyes, “you’re playing a dangerous game here. We agreed that you gave me a year to convince you to sign off your soul. I’ll take your soul when you die. I don’t know how you die or when you die, but you won’t know when I take the soul. Clearly, there’s no disadvantage for you, so why make it harder?”

“The disadvantage is that I’ll be giving up my soul for Hell.”

“Well, reincarnation is overrated. What if you’ll become a pig in your next life?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and Harry had to shove the image from his dreams last night to the back of his mind.

“Can I please go?”

“Not before you promise me you’ll stick to our deal.”

Y/N let out a sigh. Was it bad that he liked how stubborn she was being?

“What if I kissed you right now?”

Harry froze. He was a demon, and nothing should catch him off-guard, but that question completely threw him off. He opened his mouth, and for the first time, didn’t know what to say.

A smile appeared on her pretty face. “If I kissed you then my soul wouldn’t be pure anymore.”

“That’s not how it works. A kiss won’t make you bad, Y/N.”

She thought for a moment. Harry didn’t take his eyes off her. He felt his chest constricted and found it hard to breathe. Why was his heart racing? Was he blushed? He couldn’t be blushing. That would be embarrassing.

“What if,” she started, rather timidly, “it won’t just be a kiss?”

Harry instantly knew what she meant. But he believed she was just saying that. There was no way she could offer him such a thing. He cleared his throat and awkwardly shook his head. “Still won’t affect anything.”

“Then why do you look nervous?”

“Because,” he said between gritted teeth, “you can’t say shit like that.”

“Why not? It was a joke.”

His fingers around her wrists tightened just enough for her to feel the pressure. Her lips slightly parted and he felt heat pooling in his stomach. He dropped his forehead on top of hers, watching her eyelids flutter as he nudged her nose with his. This pull they had been denying for the past couple of weeks was growing nonstop, and Harry had a feeling something might have to happen tonight.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he whispered. “I know you’ve been thinking about it, too. Don’t lie.”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let go of one of her wrists and held both with one hand. His other hand flew straight to her throat. He held it gently, watching her pupils expand as he tilted her head up just enough so they were face to face. “You want me to give in and do nasty things with you, but not only because you were hoping that would make me cross your name off the list, but because…” He pressed his lips gently to her cheek “...you…” her other cheek “...want..” her chin “...me.”

When he pulled back, her face was red. It wasn’t just her usual cute-ish rosy cheeks look. Her face was bright red. The red spread to the exposed area of her chest as well. Hell, she was blushing everywhere.

Harry’s eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head. “But I can’t,” he was almost saying to himself, “I won’t do it.”

“I thought it wouldn’t affect my soul,” she said softly.

“It wouldn’t. But it’d affect me.”

“How?”

He looked her in the eyes. He could tell her about his dream last night and the thing he’d done to her in that dream. How he’d bent her over on his bed, her tight little bum up in the air, her face in the pillow. She’d been wearing this same nightdress but without that ugly cardigan. The material was almost transparent, and he could see every detail on her body, from her perky tits to her round belly to that perfect spot between her legs. He’d bent her over and pounded her from behind, his fingerprints on her arsecheeks. He could still recall the feeling of her arse bouncing against him and every single sound that she’d made, like music to his ears.

Then he could tell her how sad that’d make him when he’d woken up and realised it’d been a dream. Because he knew that dream would haunt him. And if he made it into reality then he’d be haunted for eternity. She was the kind of person who would leave such a mark. This had happened before, centuries ago. Once in a lifetime was enough.

But he didn’t tell her any of that.

“Y/N, I’m a demon,” he said instead, slowly, as if he was afraid she hadn’t already known.

“I know,” she said, holding his gaze.

And that was it. He caved.

Harry had kissed more humans than he could count, but he couldn’t remember one kiss as powerful as this. When their lips attached, he saw sparks. It was funny how he’d spent years making fun of those movie scenes, but they didn’t lie. There really were sparks. Her lips were soft, just as he’d imagined, and her smell was strong. He didn’t know what she used, but she smelled like fruits and freshly baked pies, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He let go of her wrists and slid his palms down to her bum. He felt her tense though she didn’t break the kiss. What could he say? He wasn’t a gentleman.

She was smaller than him, so it was easy for him to just lift her up. She squealed, not expecting it but wrapping her legs around him anymore. He pinned her against the shelves and pushed her cardigan off her shoulders so he could kiss her neck and chest. Her skin was so warm. Oh Satan, she was soft everywhere. How was that possible? He almost stopped to tell her that, but when he sucked that sweet below her ear, she let out the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and he didn’t want to stop, ever. He knew he wasn’t thinking with the right head at the moment, but he’d been fighting against these feelings for her for so long. Now that he’d started, he just had to keep going.

She thrust her fingers in his hair. Harry found himself wondering if the wooden shelves behind her were digging too hard into her spine. This wasn’t something he should be thinking about when he was making out with a hot girl, but for the first time, it concerned him. But it seemed like he was the only one who cared that much. Y/N’s kisses had started out soft and warm. Now, they were claiming, less of a question and more of a demand.

The books rattled when Harry pressed his body along her front, for some reason he felt like he had to be as close to her as possible, as if trying to force their bodies into one. His lips drew a rough sound out of her throat. Desire swept through him, hot and curling in his belly before shooting through every notch of his spine.

They broke apart for air and Harry dragged his eyes open. Y/N’s hair looked so fluffy post-kiss and Harry’s fingers ached to touch it, so he did, hand carding through soft strands. “Your hair feels like a cloud.”

Y/N chuckled, then she kissed him again. Harry felt hands smooth down his back, felt them wrap around his ribs, and so he shoved her back against the bookcase again as his lips took and took from her.

And she gave and gave, like she wanted him to have all of her.

She reached for the hem of his shirt, desperate to touch warm skin, but his fingers once again curled around her wrist and pinned them to the shelves. He set her feet back on the ground, holding her wrists with both hands. Heat sparked at the base of his spine and caught inside of him when her breath hitched, as though the stretch in her shoulders burned in the best way.

“Harry…”

Harry smirked against her throat. The need to kiss her again was a physical ache, but he denied that from her when she leaned down. He tutted and pulled away. “I don’t think you’ve earned more kisses, have you? You weren’t being nice to me earlier.”

An embarrassing, reedy whine slipped between Y/N’s lips. It was obscenely loud in the silence of the library.

A knee slotted itself between her thighs, laying claim, pressing up in just the right way, and pleasure made her hips twitch. A whimper lodged in her throat.

Harry’s mouth curved up against hers, nails sinking into the skin of her wrists, gripping tighter. “You like that?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured, grinding his thigh between her legs in a way that he knew would have her seeing stars. He pressed his lips to her ear. “Just keep making those pretty noises.”

Y/N whined, hips rutting against Harry’s knee. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Har—”

“Look at me.” He dropped a hand from her wrist. Fingers squeezed her jaw. “Look anywhere else but at me, and I’ll stop.” His thigh jerked up again. A moan tore itself from her throat.

And Harry couldn’t keep away from her anymore. Their mouths clashed together, finally, finally. He tasted her groan on his tongue.

“If your brother hears us–” Y/N gasped, shamelessly grinding herself on his thigh. Harry didn’t want to be reminded of his brother’s presence in the house when he was literally rubbing her pussy with his thigh, but he’d be a fool to stop now just in fear of getting caught. He was never one to follow the rules anyway.

“So keep it down, little human,” he teased. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

Y/N shivered. His thigh rocked against her again, and she was losing herself.

“Please—Please fuck me,” she gasped.

Harry’s lips curled against hers. “Gladly.”

[rorodawnchorus]

C-drama rec: 《我在他鄉挺好的》 or Remembrance of Things Past

The literal translation of the title is "I'm doing fine in this place away from home." But I think the English title was well chosen and quite relevant to the core of the series. It's only 12 episodes (which is too short when it's such a good one!). I'll try to give away as little spoilers as possible.

[TW: Suicide]

Before anything else though, I'd like to add a very big trigger warning of suicide because the series opens to the scene of a girl jumping off a bridge. This girl is one of the 4 main characters; her name is Jing Jing. The series then follows the story of these four characters with them often recalling memories of Jing Jing as they stumble through life in Beijing city. Their struggles are very relatable and perhaps all too realistic. If you're looking for a feel good, escapist story that will lift you up, maybe this isn't the one. But I can tell you it's a great drama with well-written characters and a realistic and sensible plotline. Also, I ditched every other series I was watching just to watch this.

(Where to watch: Links at the end of post)

If I were to liken this to any other story that I know of, this series does remind me a little bit of the book by Celeste Ng, 'Everything I Never Told You'. The 3 characters and also one of the male characters grapple with the trauma of Jing Jing's death. For the 3 female characters, they're Jing Jing's closest friends and also one of them is her older cousin sister. (In China, as I've observed, cousins tend to be addressed as their own siblings and some of them do share very close bonds.) The story follows these characters as they go on with life but also each episode reveals a little bit about what might have led to Jing Jing's death. They realise how much they do not know of Jing Jing and each episode, they discover something or someone they'd never known. It prompts its audience to think, you may know someone and you may think you know everything about them but things may just turn upside down when you least expect it. And you won't even know what went wrong, who this person that you love so much was, and how people left behind deal with the trauma.

One of our main characters, Qiao Xi Chen (Qiao), works in the marketing department of a coffee company. She works hard when she has to, is very competent and smart, and is very confident in her work. But office politics throws things off balance. She then gets into a series of unfortunate events. The first one being swindled of her half year rental fee which she gave to the agent. She was kicked out of her house and it's honestly the most horrible and terrifying thing to lose a place to live in overnight. For those who might have rented rooms or houses in cities, you might have had some experience that are bad or your worst living nightmare. I personally have had a series of those. Her story is also very relatable for young women who live alone and work in a big city.

Jing Jing's other best friend is Xu Yan and she works at a company's customer service department. All day, she deals with phone calls of grumbling customers complaining about the products. She sometimes have to deal with calls from customers who speak with a heavy accent or dialect but she does her job pretty well too. However, her story arc is less relatable to me personally. She has an unhealthy obsession with branded handbags and items. She and her boyfriend are the typical "Moonlight Clan/Generation" who barely manages to have any savings because they're spending on rent, bills and all the miscellaneous luxury goods that are trending. She struggles with her self image because of her work environment and feel pressured to keep up with fashion trends or a lifestyle that she can show online. I don't think it's inherently wrong to want to pursue such a life. Enjoyment and leisure can be very different to many people even if it doesn't appeal to all. She may appear a little childish but she isn't actually hateable.

Jing Jing's cousin is the oldest in the group and they all call her "Nan Jia jie" (older sister). She's an entrepreneur who started her own events management company in Beijing. She's 35 and she's pressured by her mother to quickly get married. Problem is, her mother thinks she should just get married to anyone (literally ANY MAN) who is willing to marry her. She also considers purchasing a house but property prices in Beijing are impossibly high and she barely manages to put together money for her first instalment. I think we're living in an era which has made property ownership impossible difficult. And capitalism may still want you to think that you must own a house, this may not necessarily be the case anymore.

I really like all the tiny details of this story. The way everyone finishes work late and each go their own way because sending your colleague home at 3 or 4am across the city would mean you basically do not get sleep (like you might as well just stay in the office), or how you live further away from your workplace because you can't afford a place nearer. The commute to and from work during rush hour. The list is endless. But this feels like a story that is close to the hearts of many, it tells the tale of the average salaryman living in a metropolitan city (especially in Asia).

It's the kind of drama that will leave a mark on me for life, and in a good way. I feel like part of it is already engraved in me. The cast is also doing great at stringing you along in sharing their emotions (I don't think I've cried this many times at the very beginning of a series). The writing and pacing are all great. Characters are also very well written. I do have some qualms with certain characters and their actions but... Not too big and they aren't grave sins.

I also don't think they're doing the best job at depicting trauma of witnessing a suicide and dealing with the aftermath of the suicide of a loved one but, to me, it's handling these issues quite well. At least the story is indeed about them coming to terms with the suicide of Jing Jing and them trying to make sense of what led her to this end.

Where to watch Episode 1:

Remembrance of Things Past - MangoTV

On their Official YouTube Channel