#she's got tattoos all up her arms & legs & torso marking her as one of them

[sporefound]

also while i'm thinking about amanita traveling to the surface, i do want to note that she has two cloaks that she layers. the bottom layer is her piwafwi. it is the only thing she kept from her former life as nobility as she 'died' in it. the second cloak is a black one that she layers on top of it when she travels on the surface so that the sun doesn't strip the lower layer of it's magic. The top cloak is enchanted with elemental resistance & resistance from the sunlight. it made moving around on the surface a little bit easier, though her face often still ends up sunburnt & she gets headaches from her light sensitivity

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Epilogue

@elriel-month | Tropes & AUs

The offical end is here! I cannot believe it! 😩 For nearly four years, this has been a part of my life and to say that it is finally finished, wrapped up with a nice little bow is such an overwhelming feeling. Whether you were with me from the very beginning or just recently joined, thank you for encouraging me to continue this story. It will always hold a special place in my heart, along with you. 💕

Also, I had an alternate ending, but couldn't get my gear into writing it. It was the complete opposite of this one, so consider yourselves lucky. 😘

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 4,039

Four years later.

~~~~~

Elain woke with the rising sun, the distant sound of ocean waves crashing along the beach filled her ears. Her husband’s sturdy presence was at her backside, his warmth washing over her and creating a sense of blissful calm.

She loved waking in the cradle of his embrace, his possessive need to hold her as close as possible even in his sleep. They never slept apart while sharing a bed, always managing to drape themselves around the other.

Some may have called their relationship co-dependent, but Elain knew it was because of all they had been through. How the world tried and tried again to rip them apart that the thought of being separated was unbearable. Their touch reassured the other that they were still here, still with them. And she loved that bond they had over it.

Turning in his arms, she began placing soft kisses over his bare chest, trailing her lips up to the sensitive spot on his neck.

His arms tightened around her as he let out a contented humming sound. Gorgeous, golden eyes blinked open, his mouth curling up at the corner. “Good morning, my beautiful wife.”

She huffed a laugh. “Good morning, birthday boy.”

A deep, rumbling sound vibrated from the center of his chest. “Birthday boy, eh?”

Elain pressed her lips on the tattoo of her name on his pec, their children’s names having been added to the swirls of ink surrounding hers. She had something similar running along the left side of her ribcage. Ruhn had done an incredible job with the bouquet of peonies. A large, fully blossomed one with Azriel’s name carefully scripted within the petals, and three partially blossomed ones with Kaden, Ryder, and Rosalie’s names blooming around his.

The work was intricate and beautiful and she absolutely loved it—even if it hurt like a total bitch when she got it last year.

“Yeah, birthday boy. You know the day that comes around once a year to celebrate all things you?” she teased.

A large, scarred hand threaded through her hair, pulling her in for a slow, sensual kiss. Azriel’s tongue slipped between her lips, caressing hers in a way that had heat building low in her belly. “How about birthday breakfast?” he breathed against her mouth.

Without giving her a chance to respond, he hooked a leg over her hip, flipping them until Elain’s back hit the mattress. She let out a yelp, swiftly followed by a blissful sigh as he made his way down her bare body, licking and sucking at her soft skin. “Azriel,” she breathed huskily, her fingers threading through his thick hair.

Her husband peppered kisses down her torso, making sure his lips paused at every pregnancy marker on her body; every stretchmark still visible on her stomach. He always made sure to show her just how beautiful she was.

“Fuck, I love when you say my name like that,” he murmured into the junction of her left thigh. His teeth nipped at the tender flesh, leaving his mark right on the inside. Azriel still loved sprinkling her pale skin with his bruises and had become adept at placing them in places only he would see. Kaden had once inquired about the bruise on her neck not long after the twins were born, in front of their entire family, which then invited knowing smirks and questions about their sex life.

Elain had no desire to respond to those requests and neither did her husband.

Said husband who was currently sucking a matching love bite onto the inside of her other thigh, glanced up at her through his full lashes, a devil’s glint shining in his hazel eyes. His mouth hovered over her drenched slit, ready to devour her, when they heard one of the bedroom doors opening down the hallway.

He froze, gaze clashing with hers.

Soft feet padded to one of the other bedrooms and another door opened, followed swiftly by a third and the hushed voices of their children as the three of them made their way down the stairs.

“Shoo, guys,” Kaden reprimanded. “Mom and Dad will hear you.”

Twin giggles from their four-year-olds chased their elder brother down the hallway.

Elain sighed as Azriel let out a groan.

“Why are they up already?” he asked. The sun had just started to rise, and when she looked at the clock, she saw it was only a half past six in the morning.

She smiled softly at her husband, “They wanted to make you breakfast in bed—”

“I’m trying to eat my breakfast in bed,” he all but growled.

Elain smacked his shoulder, laughing. “You’re so bad.”

Those big, beautiful, strong hands flexed on her hips, squeezing her. “Don’t act like you don’t love it when I do bad things with you.”

She shook her head, still grinning. “I should probably go down there before they destroy our kitchen.”

“Kaden’s down there and responsible.”

A perfectly groomed brow rose. “Kaden against the twins?” She and Azriel adored all of their children. Wouldn’t change a single thing about them. But they were both quite surprised at how rambunctious Rosalie and Ryder were compared to their elder sibling. And mischievous too, always getting into things. They were quite the handful.

Her husband’s eyes widened in realization. “Fuck, yeah. You better get down there.”

At that, she laughed, attempting to detangle herself from his grasp.

But he held on tight, a knowing smirk raising the corner of his mouth. “But I want dessert later. And to ensure I get it…” his tongue delved between her legs, lapping at her wetness and then he sucked her clit between his teeth, guaranteeing that she would be desperate for release later.

A muffled moan passed between her parted lips. “You wicked, wicked man. You expect me to go all day like this?”

“You bet your pretty ass, I do.” Dropping another kiss to her sensitive clit, smacked her butt, before he rolled over, plopping down onto the pillow beside her.

Elain grumbled a few choice words as she climbed out of bed, grabbing suitable clothing to head downstairs. At the door, she pointed a finger at her husband. “You better pretend to be asleep when we come up here.”

He made a crossing motion over his heart. “Promise, baby girl.”

She could only roll her eyes, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

In the handful of minutes her children had on her, they still managed to ensue chaos in her kitchen.

“Momma!” Rosalie cried, running over and crashing into her legs. “Momma, Kaden won’t let me help!”

Elain lifted her onto her hip, eyeballing her son as he measured the ingredients for breakfast. “Kaden, let Rosalie help with the batter.”

“But Mom! She’s just making a mess!” he said exasperated.

She walked further into the kitchen, setting her daughter back on one of the stools at the counter, and ruffled her eldest’s hair. He was a neat freak like his parents. “Then show her how to make it. Help her. Don’t exclude her—Ryder, I know you’re not turning that stove on without me there,” she warned without even looking at her youngest son, already knowing his silence meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

All three of their children loved to help in the kitchen, and they enjoyed teaching them things. But both she and Azriel had told them they were not allowed to use the stove without one of them present and standing right there with them. Being the eldest, Kaden had some leeway, but the twins knew better than to turn on the burner.

Elain spun around to face her guilty-looking son.

“Sorry, Momma.”

Forty-five minutes and one meltdown later, they were walking up the stairs with multiple trays toward her bedroom door. She shot Azriel a text to let him know they were on their way, but their kids’ attempt at being quiet would’ve alerted him before they even made it to the top of the stairs.

Ryder threw open the door just as all three kids shouted, “Happy birthday, Daddy!”

Azriel’s, bless that man, surprised “I was sleeping” face was so unbelievable, but they still ate it up, the twins running to climb on their bed as she and Kaden carried the three trays with their breakfast on them.

He let out a grunt, catching their daughter as she flung herself into his arms.

“Were you surprised, Daddy?” she asked, flashing those big brown eyes at him.

“So surprised,” he said, kissing her all over her face until she was squealing in delight. “Did you guys make me breakfast in bed?” Az questioned, winking at her.

Ryder was crawling into his lap, squeezing next to his sister. “We did, Daddy. I helped!”

He kissed the top of his son’s head. “Well, I can’t wait to eat it.” Those amber eyes turned on her. “I’m famished.”

Elain turned red from head to toe, but damn, did that comment send warmth running low in her belly. Fucker, she wanted to say, but just gave him a look that said to knock it off.

His lips turning up at the corner told her he absolutely would not.

They spent the next hour in their bed, eating and spending time together as a family, making an absolute mess, but Elain wouldn’t have traded that time for anything in the world.

Azriel’s only birthday request was to spend a week at their home in the Summer District. He wanted just quality time with his family, and Elain couldn’t agree more. Even though there was an agreement between him and his biological brothers, with three children, Azriel was still overly cautious in their protection—and hers, to be honest. The Moonbeam brothers often traveled with them, acting as protection detail in addition to being their kids’ uncles.

Elain was sitting in a low, sand chair under an umbrella on the beach, Connall a sturdy presence on her right. Her husband and two boys had wandered into the ocean, while Fenrys was helping Rosalie build a sandcastle.

She watched as her daughter clung to Fen’s leg near the shore before he swooped her into his arms and carried her into the shallow water.

Rosalie’s aversion to water was not born, but an accident that created a lasting traumatic response. She wouldn’t get into anything larger than a bathtub without an adult; not even her twin being able to coax her into facing her fear of water no matter how hard Ryder tried to. 

Elain could still remember that day… There was something different when it came to fear for your children. She had been kidnapped, held hostage, attacked… But the fear she felt when Rosalie fell into the deep end of their pool was unlike anything Elain had ever experienced before. It was a raw, crippling kind of terror.

They were hosting an early spring barbeque with their siblings; all the kids engaged in a rousing game of tag on the lawn. Kaden led the pack, holding his littlest cousin’s hand. At only a year old, Nyx wasn’t able to keep up with the rest of them, but their eldest kept him by his side to ensure he got to play. And little Nyx’s squeals of delight told her he was having an absolute blast, even if he didn’t understand what was going on.

The first time one of the kids stepped onto the concrete surrounding the pool, she called out to them. “Stay off the concrete or you’re going to come sit down.”

Typically, the kids listened well when one of the adults told them to do something, and she could see them trying to avoid the non-grassy area. But in an attempt to avoid being tagged by Sutton, the twins split and then collided, sending Rosalie crashing into the chilled water.

Elain screamed her name, but Azriel reacted faster, running and launching himself into the pool, scooping their daughter as she slowly sank to the bottom. Cash beat her to the edge as Azriel and Rosalie emerged, waiting to help pull his niece out before handing her off to her mother.

She immediately started patting her back, getting Rosalie into a position on the ground to better cough out the water she inhaled. Her small body shook from the force, expelling every drop of liquid.

Azriel heaved himself from the pool and was at her side a second later, scarred hands fluttering around his daughter.

When her coughs turned to cries, Elain knew she’d be all right, the shock of what happened kicking in and causing the waterworks from her two-year-old. “Shhh, you’re okay, sweetheart,” she cooed, cradling her small body to her chest and rubbing her back.

“Should we take her in?” Az worried, those hazel eyes bright with fear as he inspected his baby girl for any injuries.

She shook her head. “I’ll grab my medical bag and check her out, but she should be fine.”

And she was, physically. Totally and completely fine. But when summer rolled around, they realized what, exactly, that experience had done to her. She and Azriel had worked hard to break the fear, but even two years later, it still stuck with her.

A little body crashing into her brought Elain back to the present. “Momma! Did you see the sandcastle Uncle Fen and I built?”

She kissed her plump cheek. “I did, sweetheart! You two built an amazing castle.”

“Mom?”

Elain turned her head to look up at Kaden, not having heard him approach. He was getting stealthy like his father. The furrow in his brow had her instantly on alert. “What is it, sweetie?”

He looked over his shoulder toward his dad and brother…and a woman. “Do you know her?”

She slid her sunglasses down her nose, eying the blonde who—just put a hand on her husband’s bicep. Azriel held Ryder tight on his hip, stepping back out of her reach. It was obvious from her son’s tone to the way he was watching the interaction that he was uncomfortable.

Elain lifted Rosalie off her lap and placed her on the blanket beside her chair. “Guys,” she said, addressing the Moonbeam brothers. “Watch the kids, please.” Without a backward glance, she made her way down the beach, plastering a fake smile on her face as she approached her husband.

“So, are you interested?” the woman asked just as Elain reached his side.

“Hello, husband,” she purred, sliding her left hand across his bare chest possessively, her diamond wedding ring sparkling in the sunshine. “Who’s your friend?”

The woman looked unamused, arms crossing and emphasizing her scantily-clad breasts. She was pretty, Elain wouldn’t lie. Perfect curves and a toned stomach. Not marred with stretch marks and the like from pregnancy that her body now bore.

But the thing is, Elain knew she had nothing to worry about when it came to her. Because Azriel loved every single thing about her body and more. He loved every line she bore from carrying their children. He kissed the scar on her thigh, the marks around her navel, the faint lines on her breasts. There was nothing he did not love about her.

So, she wore her earned markers proudly. Elain never hid who she was and what she had been through. And like hell would this woman, who was very obviously hitting on her husband, while he held one of their children, going to make her feel insecure about herself.

“Momma!” Ryder called out, reaching for her.

She happily took her son from Azriel, kissing his cheek. “Hello, sweet boy. Did you and Daddy have fun in the ocean?”

“I did, Momma! Water went up my nose!”

Elain laughed, kissing his button nose and taking Azriel by the hand. He brought their laced fingers to brush his lips across her knuckles, his gratitude shining in those hazel-colored eyes. She barely glanced back at the woman whom she could feel was glaring at her, muttering, “It was nice to meet you,” before tugging her man back toward the beach where their family had set up camp.

“Thank you,” he told her once they were out of earshot. “She wouldn’t take a hint and I didn’t want to be rude in front of the kids.”

She set Ryder back on his feet, telling him to head up to his siblings and wait for them. Once Elain was sure he was safe, she faced her husband. “I understand why you refrained from being rude in their presence, but I think this is an opportunity to teach our children about unwelcomed advances and how to handle them.”

So that they didn’t go through what she had.

Realization dawned on his face. Azriel swore, running a hand through his hair, his bicep flexing from the movement. “Fuck, you’re right. I should’ve made a point to address that in front of them.”

Elain reached out, placing her palm over his heart. “We can still use this experience to talk to them. I could tell Kaden was uncomfortable with her presence. The twins may be a little young, but I still think we should talk with them about what happened.” She wrapped her arms around his trim waist. “This is a learning opportunity for them.”

He smiled down at her, tucking her close and kissing her softly. “I love you,” he breathed onto her lips. Swooping down, Azriel threw her over his shoulder, making her squeal as he smacked her butt. “Come wife, I need to make sure my dessert is ready for me later.”

Gripping his hips, she laughed, shouting, “Put me down, prick!”

Az swung her back onto her feet, wrapping her against his chest and cupping the curve of her ass in his large hands. They were never afraid to show their affection for each other in front of their children, wanting them to grow up knowing they had parents who loved each other dearly. “Thank you for making this the best birthday.”

She grinned, mouth curling up at the corner. “Your birthday isn’t over yet, baby.” Not by a long shot.

His brow raised at the comment, but before he could ask, Kaden shouted, “Dad!”

Azriel didn’t take his eyes off her as he hollered back, “What?”

“Come quick! There’s a crab!”

“Don’t touch it!”

Because the last thing they needed was a crab pinching one of their fingers. “You better get over there. I don’t want to have to take one of them to the emergency room for stitches.”

“Why take them to the emergency room when their mother can patch them up even better?” He smirked, shooting her a wink before jogging back to their curious children.

Elain took a moment to just watch her husband and kids from afar, smiling at how beautiful they were. And she considered herself the damn luckiest person in the whole world.

~~~~~

Azriel had just finished putting the kids to bed, all three of them thoroughly exhausted after playing all day in the sun, and made his way to the kitchen where Elain stood, finishing up cleaning the dishes from the dessert she had made him. His arms slid around her waist, palms cradling her torso as he nudged her hair out of the way with his nose to kiss her neck.

She let out a contented breath, body melting into his embrace. “Did the kids go down okay?”

“The twins were out within minutes of my reading, and Kaden’s eyes were drooping on his book when I went to his bedroom. He didn’t last much longer.” He tightened his hold on her as she shut the dishwasher. “Thank you for all of this.”

Elain twisted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Happy birthday, my love.” Her smile lit up her face, reminding him of just how damn lucky he was.

“Are we all good down here?” he asked her, hoping that they were.

Her head cocked to the side. “Yes, I’m finished cleaning up, w—what are you doing?” she squealed quietly as he lifted her into his arms, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

He flicked off the kitchen lights, carrying her up the stairs. “I want my birthday dessert.”

Elain shot him a dry look. “Azriel, I just gave you dessert.”

“Yes, and it was delicious. But now I want the dessert I was promised this morning.”

A finger trailed up the side of his throat, toying with the edge of his thick hair. “Oh? And what dessert is that, dear husband?”

He kicked their bedroom door shut behind them, locking it. “You, my darling wife.”

She let out a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a moan, his words always her undoing.

Az took a seat on the edge of their bed with every intention to undress her and place her sweet cunt right over his face, but Elain seemed to have other thoughts, pulling back to look at him.

“I have a birthday present for you, still.”

“I’m trying to get to my birthday present right now,” he muttered, sliding a hand beneath her dress to stroke her, his mouth moving to attach to her delicate collarbones.

Elain hummed in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed. “Not that present,” she murmured, huskily. Azriel knew exactly what his wife liked and where she liked it. Just a few more swipes of his tongue and she’d forget all about her other present and let him take her the way he wanted to.

But she was also very persistent, placing a palm on his chest to push him back. Her breath was already unsteady, dark eyes smoldering with heat. “Other present first. Then you can unwrap me.” She dropped a kiss on his nose, ignoring his groan of protest as she clambered off his lap and over to her dresser.

He leaned back on his hands, watching as she rooted around in one of the drawers until she procured a small box, wrapped in black paper with a cobalt ribbon.

Elain settled herself back onto his lap, a small smile tugging up the corner of her lips. “Happy birthday.”

Az frowned. “I thought I said no gifts.” Truly, the only gift he wanted was to spend time with his family. No interruptions. And that’s exactly what he got, so this additional present was a surprise.

“Yes, but you also got me that stunning tennis bracelet after I said the same, so I think this is fair. Besides, it’s not exactly a gift-gift per se.”

Well, that had his brows furrowing together. Carefully, he pulled the ribbon off, tearing at the wrapping without care. His eyes glanced up and saw his wife’s fingers steepled, pressing to her lips in anticipation.

Whatever was in the box was obviously very precious to her.

Casting his eyes down, Azriel opened the lid and revealed…

His gaze snapped to hers. “Are you serious?”

She dipped her head in confirmation, an infectious smile pulling at her mouth. Elain looked absolutely giddy.

Az’s throat tightened as he choked on his emotions. “El, we’re pregnant?”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, chin dipping in confirmation.

They had talked about having another baby, Elain having her IUD removed just a few months before. But he honestly didn’t expect them to get pregnant so quickly again. He pulled out the sonogram and let his fingers brush over the little blip that would grow into their fourth child.

And then his eyes traveled to the onesie. Azriel laughed loudly, lifting the small clothing from the box, the words, here we go again, scripted across the chest.

“I thought it was fitting,” Elain said softly, eyes bright with unshed tears.

He cupped her cheek, bringing her in for a slow, sweet kiss. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

His thump wiped under her lashes, catching the droplets as she murmured, “Happy birthday, Azriel.”

Words weren’t enough to thank her for this gift, this wonderfully, amazing, beautiful life he’d built with her. So, Azriel showed his wife just how much he loved her, over and over again. The perfect end to one chapter and the start of their next in life.

~~~~~

The End.

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

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[helluva-shit-show]

I swear I don't hate the show, I don't even hate any of the ladies above, not even Stella, it's just insanely unfair how the women get treated in Helluva.

And no, I don't need the creators of any given media to hold my hand and walk me through every tiny choice made by every character in said media.

Of course I can infer that Stella grew up in the same pre-determined mold Stolas was forced into. Of course I can infer that she learned tantrum behavior and violence probably got her what she wanted so her royal parents didn't have to hear it.

I can infer that Barbie self harms bc a tiny thin scar doesn't form a perfect circle around your forearm by accident, and an "X" doesn't perfectly cross out a tattoo that probably causes you great trauma to look at every day, on accident. Her tail scars are deeply concerning and saddening to think about, bc again, why do they PERFECTLY match her twin brother's natural markings? I can infer that his actions, intentional or not, deeply traumatized her, and her response was to remove a piece of herself that reminded her of him. It's dark, it's mature, it's compelling and it makes sense. The issue is, it will probably never be touched on.

I adore Millie, I adored her before season two was even announced. To the contrary, I actually don't care if she ever gets a deep deep dive at her backstory. There have been PLENTY of male characters across all kinds of media that are simply psychotic little murder gremlins, and no one ever bats an eye at it. I adore her as the murder gremlin queen she is. But as she's main cast, it's incredibly unfair by comparison how she gets utilized and how she doesn't. One minute she can take down a 60 meter tall fish monster single handedly, the next minute, because the plot wants this to be about the bois, a single hit breaks her arm to the point that BONE IS PIERCING THROUGH HER SKIN, and she just happens to get thrown directly into the world's MOST CONVENIENTLY PLACED AND ARMED bear-trap ever. It doesn't snag her face, her hair, or her hand or arm or torso or back, she falls just perfectly that her leg is just perfectly in its jaws. No arteries got caught? There's not an excess of blood, she's by the show's own dialogue, "fine." But she's benched for the rest of the episode.

And maybe it wouldn't be so bad from the critical eye if the excuse given for it wasn't SO hollow. "Helluva is more male focused and Hazbin is more female focused." Ma'am. Who do you think you're fooling out here. Angel Dust and Alastor built the HH fandom. Do you expect me to believe Mimzy or Niffty are going to be treated any better than the Helluva gals? Mimzy is literally already on the wiki as a "minor character".

It's truly ok to focus your story on males. There is literally a whole genre of anime focused on mostly male stories. But if someone, or a lot of someones, feel your female cast is lacking in substance, I find it insulting to dismiss them and say they're misreading the media and nitpicking. They care about the show, YOUR show, they care about YOUR characters, if you can remember back when you were a smaller creator HERE on tumblr, ppl love when you ask them about their OCs. And you don't have to spit out a quick bs backstory to your character if you haven't given it much thought, that's not what anyone is asking for. (Cough, Unhappy Campers, COUGH).

Idk how to wrap this critique up, so I'm just gonna say, Moxxie's mom is too badass to be Mrs. Knofirstname Knolastname. 🤡

[blackberrywars]

LOK: Ming-Hua Tattoo Ideas

I've got a fic in the works where Ming-Hua has extensive tattoos in the Inuit style, and this is essentially a compilation of all my ideas. I'm not going to use all these in the fic itself for plot reasons, but I wanted everything in one place. Full disclosure, I am not an expert in tattoos or Inuit culture, nor am I trained as an artist, so all of this is me doing research and using references to the best of my ability. Sadly, a lot of the original meanings/history behind Inuit tattoos, especially the diverse patterns between different tribes, has been lost, but many people are working to revive it.

I wanted to use Inuit styles for her, since I hc her as part of the Northern Water Tribe, and Ming-Hua's lack of arms ties into a traditional Inuit goddess, Sedna, who had her arms cut off as part of her story. In the past (and the present, as more and more Inuit women are re-adopting this custom), this story would be commemorated with tattoos along specific parts of the fingers and arms to represent where Sedna was cut. Plus, I thought it would be cool to adapt this style to the world of ATLA/LOK and Ming-Hua specifically.

(My first draft) Obviously, arm tattoos are impossible here, so while most of the resources I found focused on arm/face tattoos, I put the bulk of them on her legs. These are meant to represent milestones and skills/achievements, another feature of Inuit tattoos. Since waterbending is so focused on arm movements, I imagine they would probably go there, but hers are on her legs, and I tried to come up with meanings for each one. The ones on her face and torso are more milestone-based, and more based in traditional Inuit practices.

(NON-SEXUAL NUDITY UNDER THE CUT)

Branching Y's: her tentacles and how they split and branch off. I wanted these to continue across the length of her leg because she uses them so much; traditionally referred to essential hunting tools

Spikes: turning water to ice, a basic skill but an important one

Circles: basically all represent the moon in some way; the one on her knees is specifically meant to be the Moon Spirit, Tui/Yue; the one on her stomach is for mothers

Wiggles: symbol of the water tribes and of the Ocean Spirit, La

Boat: reminiscent of an upside-down Mark of the Wise from the Southern tribe; represents being able to command a boat

Chest: traditoonally meant to symbolize motherhood and womanhood, but I also wanted to add the moons since she uses her torso to waterbend

Chin: traditional Inuit tattoo given when a girl gets her first period

Forehead V: traditional Inuit tattoo signifying entry into womanhood, so it would be given at 16 in the Northern Tribe

Eye/Cheek lines: debated meaning, ranging from just contributing to the general beautification of the tattoos to group identification to helping one see better in the snow and/or spiritually

I found no references for back tattoos in any of my research, but it's waterbending culture, and I love some moon phases.

I welcome any questions or corrections! This is not an area of expertise (art, tattoos, or Inuit culture), and I'd love to talk to anyone with more knowledge. If anyone wants to be added/removed from the taglist, send me an ask/PM and I'll take care of it

@hellinglasses, @yellowsalt3, @wishingforatypewriter, @orangepanic, @nyamadermont

[kylermalloy]

Stydia #20 😘

Christina! This is such a good prompt, since they both have a myriad of scars to choose from (should I be happy or sad about that?)

Takes place post-series, but references the time Lydia was attacked by a kanima in season 5

“One normal date. That’s all I ask.”

Lydia laughs sharply, stumbling under the weight of her boyfriend’s arm slung around her shoulders. “You’re asking too much.”

“Well, fuck me, then.”

He obviously means it as an expression of frustration, but Lydia still seizes upon the opportunity to joke. “Mm-mmm. Not while you’re bleeding.”

They burst into their motel room, which is trashier than usual. No lobby, no elevator, no breakfast, and despite the No Smoking sign on the door there’s still an ashtray on the round little table.

At least they got a first floor room, so Lydia doesn’t have to drag Stiles up a flight of stairs.

It’s been a rough year. Monroe has a seemingly endless army of hunters to send after supernaturals, making it impossible for them to stay in one place for more than a few weeks. College has been put on hold until further notice—although MIT made it clear that she was welcome back at any time. In fact, they begged her to return at any time when she announced she was taking a year off.

They can’t even go see a movie without some self-righteous asshole crusader firing a crossbow at them.

Well, at Lydia. Stiles, wonderful idiot that he is, jumped in front of her and took a swiping blow to his side.

Lydia peels up his rusted-bloody shirt and applies antiseptic. “It’s not deep. You don’t need stitches.”

“Thank god,” he breathes. His fists are clenched in the bedspread. “I love you, but you’re a butcher with that needle.”

“Thank you. I learned needlepoint when I was in primary.”

“Oh, cool. So can you stitch ‘fuck you’ into my side? The next time someone captures me and pulls my shirt off to torture me, I’d like them to read that first.”

“I’ll get right on that.” Lydia pulls a size-XL bandage from their first-aid kit. “Although a tattoo would be easier.”

Stiles winces as she lays the bandage in place, applying pressure so the adhesive sticks.

“Be good,” she murmurs, running her fingers over the edges. “Shh.” Her touch strays up over his ribs.

He relaxes, a little. As much as one can when a crossbow bolt has grazed one’s side.

His legs part, inviting her to step between them so her torso presses against his. Her arms wind around his shoulders, and his around her waist in a fervent embrace.

Even with him seated and her standing, her head is barely high enough to rest on top of his.

“Mm.” Stiles breathes into her shirt, warm and satisfied. “Oh, hey. We match now.”

“What?”

His fingers dance up her shirt, pulling the hem away to reveal the angry slash on the left side of her stomach. “I’m gonna have a scar, too.”

A shocked sound escapes her lips that’s part laugh and part sob, and she lifts her eyes to the ceiling. How has this become their life? Comparing scars and patching wounds in a dinky motel room?

Of course she remembers the day a reptilian tail sliced through her side, the blood that spilled through her fingers. Creating the wound that still scars her skin to this day.

Her only consolation was that the venom paralyzing her also numbed the worst of her pain. That, and Stiles.

Seeing Stiles there was also a relief. Numbed the pain in a different way. She had to be strong for him, after all. Smile at him, let him know that she was all right. Nothing hurt worse than his horrified expression.

Her fingers wind tightly into his hair. Clinging to him.

“Hey.” His lips are hot against her skin. “Looks good.” And then he’s mouthing at the pearly white ridge, trailing kisses over the scar tissue that will probably mark her for the rest of her life.

“Thanks,” she says breathlessly. Honestly, it’s such a simple gesture that she shouldn’t be aroused by it. Plenty of partners have done the same to her.

But the reverence with which he lays kisses on her, over the part of her that could be perceived as ugly or flawed, the utter sincerity of his compliment…that is what makes her weak at the knees, more than any sensual touch could on its own.

His hands stray around her waist again, but this time under her shirt, tracing the curve of her hips, the hollow of her spine. “We survived. Tonight.”

“Yes, we did.”

“Didn’t finish the movie, but we made it back alive.”

“Very true.”

“Call it a win?”

Lydia purses her lips, futilely resisting the inevitable smile. Stiles’s ability to make her smile is uncanny. “Yes. Call it a win.”

Send me a prompt and a ship!

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

"Broken & Beautiful" Chapter 13

WARNING: In case you didn't already guess, there are some sexy times ahead. Nothing explicit. I'm not writing a sex manual, for crying out loud. But still ...

I now find myself on my back, stretched out on top of Jake’s bed with my head resting on a pillow. He hovers over me, his lower half nestled between my legs. His shirt and hoodie are somewhere on the floor, and I delight in the warmth and softness of his skin as I caress his back with my fingertips. We haven’t stopped kissing since the moment my head touched the pillow, and I allow him to take the lead. His lips are soft; his kisses firm. He cups my cheek lovingly as he does something with his tongue that drives me crazy and leaves me wanting more.

Jake moves on to my ear, tracing the outside edge with his tongue before gently biting down on the lobe. His hands, meanwhile, have moved down my waist to the hem of my sweatshirt. He slowly pushes it up my torso, his fingertips grazing my skin along the way. He suddenly maneuvers us so that now he’s stretched out on his back with me straddling him, and my sweater and bra are quickly discarded.

Jake’s gaze sweeps over my body as he reaches out and touches me, tracing a line from my cleavage and down to the butterfly tattoo on my stomach. I look down at him, taking note of how in-shape he is. He’s downright gorgeous with his sharp collarbones, pale skin, and just the right amount of dark chest hair. I also notice, for the first time, the tattoos that decorate his skin. I reach down to trace my fingers over one of them and then lean down to tease an ear, tasting the cold metal of his earring. I can hear him sigh as his hands run the length of my back, and I give his lobe a gentle tug. He sits up and I wrap my legs around his waist, tilting my head to the side. He moves my hair out of the way and bites at my shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to get my attention.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of our clothing to come off. We take our time exploring one another, navigating every line and curve. Jake knows what he’s doing, and he’s certainly attentive. There’s no doubt about that. When he asks if I’m ready, all I can do is nod. A short while later we’re moving together, the room filled with the sounds we’re making. I love the sounds Jake makes in my ear. His little sighs, shuddering gasps, and deep groans are music to my ears. He keeps me close, arms wrapped around me, cheek pressed against mine.

When it’s over, the ending is glorious. I’m in a bit of a daze, and so I’m barely aware of the moment when Jake moves to the other side of the bed. I’m still on my back when he moves close to me, reaching out with a hand to touch my cheek.

“You okay?” he asks, panting.

I finally turn my head to look at him, giving him a smile and a nod. Jake turns onto his side and pulls me close to him. We exchange a long, sweet kiss and snuggle together under the sheets. He presses a kiss to my forehead while I trace invisible, random patterns across the skin of his back. I take note of the two large tattoos that mark his left arm, gently running my hand over them.

“Your tattoos. Do they have a story behind them, or ...”

“Three of them, no. I just got them ‘cause I was drunk.”

“What about the fourth one?” I take note of Jake’s hesitation. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” I quickly add.

He kisses the tip of my nose before he says “It’s a mermaid.”

When I think that’s all I’m going to get out of him, Jake begins to open up to me. He explains that when he was a child, Simone would tell him stories about his mother; how she was a mermaid who returned to the sea. He doesn’t remember his mother, and he doesn’t even have a picture of her. All he really knows is what Simone has chosen to tell him: that his mother chose to end her life by walking into the sea, and that her mood constantly shifted during the day.

When he’s finished, I’m left with a better understanding of why Simone is so important to him. From the time he was eight-years-old, Simone has been the only mother figure he’s had. I realize, now, that he’s terrified of being abandoned. Going by what I’ve witnessed, I can clearly see that Simone uses Jake’s fear of abandonment to her advantage. It sickens me. I want to comfort him. But what can I say to someone who’s suffered the way Jake has? No wonder he’s so guarded.

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” are all the words I have to offer. Even then, they don’t seem like enough.

“It is what it is,” he replies. “So, what about you? Does the butterfly have a story?”

“It does, actually. I got it the day I decided to leave Baltimore for good,” I begin. “Some say that the butterfly is symbolic of new life and transformation. That’s why I left Baltimore: to start a new life and to ... I don’t know ... become something different. Something new. Maybe even what I was meant to be all along.”

“Not that I’m complaining, but you couldn’t do that in Baltimore?”

I shake my head and scrunch up my nose. “No. Not as long as I was living under my parents’ roof. They were controlling.” This isn’t easy for me, and Jake can tell. His fingers are working their magic on my back and shoulders, keeping me relaxed. “They were’t always like that.”

“What changed?”

“I did. Or, at least, I started to. Until I was 16 ... or maybe 17 ... I was what you’d call a ‘good girl’.”

Jake chuckles and gives me a grin. “Really? You?”

“Oh, yeah! I had good grades. Made the Honor Roll a few times. I wasn’t what you’d call unpopular, but I wasn’t part of the party crowd either. And then my junior year came around, and I just ... I don’t know. I guess I grew tired of the good girl image.”

“And so you rebelled.”

I nod. “It was nothing extreme. I mean, my grades didn’t suffer. I was given a few scholarships, which is why I was able to go to Columbia. And that’s when I really cut loose. I was more interested in going to parties, getting drunk and ... Well, you can imagine the rest. My grades suffered. I lost my scholarships and I was kicked out. I had to go back to Baltimore with my tail between my legs. And my parents ... Well, they treated me less like a daughter and more like a prisoner. We fought constantly and I felt stifled. Then one day, I just decided to leave. I packed my things, and told John and Maggie that I was leaving; that they couldn’t stop me. We got into a huge fight. Things were said that can’t be taken back. We haven’t spoken in a while. They can’t even be bothered to send me a birthday card. They just completely wrote me off.”

Jake presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug and repeat what he said earlier, when I was consoling him. “It is what it is.”

“What happened then?”

“I traveled a bit. Got my act together. Worked a few dead end jobs. Eventually, I moved here to New York. Will’s roommate moved out, and so I moved in. I worked a few more dead end jobs, and then Will told me that one of the bartenders at 22W was retiring and that they’d need a replacement.”

I look at Jake, who gives me a wide smile. “I’ll have to thank Will for that.”

I reach out to stroke his face. “We’ll both have to thank him.” I chuckle to myself. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the day we met.”

“Really? I bet you were blown away by my charm and wit,” he teases.

“Oh, yeah. You were very charming. I don’t think you smiled once. Not to mention the fact that you intimidated me.”

“I intimidated you?” he sounds genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. You did. I mean, you had this air about you. You were so ... aloof. You acted like you didn’t care about anything.” I avert my gaze and shyly admit “To be honest, I thought you hated me.”

He laughs softly. “I didn’t hate you.”

“No? Then why did you act like you did?”

“I just ... I was annoyed. I’d been working with the same guy for years, and then he decided to quit. He didn’t even stay long enough to train you. I had to do that. And I hate training people.”

“Okay. So you didn’t hate me, then?”

“No. Actually ...” He gives me another one of those charming smiles of his. “... I liked you. In fact ...” Now he’s stroking my arm, his smile fading to a smirk. “... I thought about pursuing you.”

I furrow my brow at him, skeptical. “Really? Well, why didn’t you?”

“I figured it was a lost cause. I knew how you felt about the way I acted, and that you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

I frown. “You’re right. I would have written you off because I didn’t know then what I know now. But I figure that it wasn’t our time back then. And besides ...” We maneuver so that I’m on top of him again. “... we’re together now. So things worked out. Didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did,” he confirms, drawing me in for a kiss.

Things are starting to heat up between us again. But then, the worst thing happens: my stomach growls. We both laugh into each other’s mouths and break off the kiss, and I just know I’m blushing.

“I’m so sorry,” I say between giggles.

He chuckles back. “I take it you’re hungry.”

“Apparently so.”

“Well, luckily for you ... we have a solution for that. Care to join me for an indoor picnic?”

I give him a smile, climbing off of him. He’s the first to get out of bed, and I can’t help but admire the view as he reaches down to pull on his sweatpants. He catches me checking him out and then grins.

“Like what you see?”

“Oh, I have no complaints,” I confirm with a nod. Oh, I am a naughty, naughty girl.

It takes me a while to locate my sweatshirt and underwear. Mostly dressed, I wander into the kitchen and fix myself a plate while Jake reheats his food in the microwave. We go back to the living room and sit down on the blanket, and I watch as Jake pulls a bottle of my favorite wine out of the ice bucket.

While he pours two glasses, I smile at him. “I thought you hated wine.”

He looks at me and raises a brow. “I don’t hate wine. I just prefer beer. Wine, I save for special occasions.” He puts the bottle back in the bucket and then clinks his glass against mine. “Like tonight, for example.”

I take a sip of wine, closing my eyes and relishing its sweet flavor. We set the glasses down on the coffee table and dig into our dinner ... which, dare I say, we have definitely earned. After swallowing a bite of egg roll, I comment “Amazing sex. Delicious food. My favorite wine. You sure do know how to treat a girl on her birthday.”

Jake laughs quietly again and looks at me. He seems quite proud of himself. “Amazing sex, huh?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Like you couldn’t tell. Thank goodness you don’t have neighbors.”

“You were pretty amazing yourself.”

Now I know I’m blushing. “Thanks. Seems those years of pent-up sexual energy came in handy.” Knowing what he’s going to ask before he even has a chance to say the first word, I wave my fork at him. “And don’t even think about asking how long it’s been.”

He holds up his hands in mock-surrender. “Okay! Okay. I’m just ... glad I could be of service.”

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

[thewornoutandtired]

Tattoos

The Cat's tattoos are eldritch, all tentacles and eyes and teeth. The tattoos cover their arms and legs, intertwining with the lines of veins and arteries already there, with stray tentacles reaching into their torso like they're taking root. They move slowly, subtly enough that you may not even notice, or think your eyes are playing tricks on you.. However, if the Cat is coming for you, then you'll understand that it's not a trick. The lights fade into darkness, and the tattoos seem to infect the darkness. They'll be walking in the middle of a heaving, writhing mass of monstrosity. If you're lucky enough that they let you live, your nightmares will be haunted with visions of eyes and tentacles hunting you through the dark.

The Coyote looks like he was dragged through Hell, or forged in it. His body is crisscrossed with black lines, running from one organ to another, all coalescing into a single thick braid up his spine. The lines pulse as his emotions rise, red lights of either anger or love shooting across the line of void. When his emotions reach a fever pitch, the wires extend into those he's touching, marking them. Those close to him have their own small patches of wire, nestled within their own tattoos. Those marked by his rage, however, howl in agony as the hellfire within him burns them to ash from the inside out as the lines wrap around their necks.

The Gecko has iridescent clouds across her back, glowing and swirling with her mood. They never seem to be the same color twice, even to those that have been around for years. She's like a walking sunset, casting light wherever she goes. There are the unlucky few who know that those clouds can turn black, however. After all, every cloud can become a storm of destruction. She becomes a force of nature, with a touch like a lightning bolt and a voice like the howling winds of a hurricane. Then, just like the weather of Oklahoma, she can go right back to bright and sunny as though nothing had happened.

The Raccoon has a garden down her arms. The vines started on the backs of her hands and grew as she got older, forming intricate patterns across her pale skin. Flowers appear eventually, representing those dear to her. The wide variety of blooms started on her shoulders and moved down. Roses, daisies, orchids and tulips, the rhyme or reason hasn't been found out yet. What she does know is that her garden connects her to her people, and vice versa. When somebody hurts them in her presence, they'll find themselves coughing up rose petals as their hearts are strangled by thorns.

The Dog, at first glance, doesn't seem to have any tattoos. Closer inspection will reveal razor thin lines of red throughout his body. They move so seldom that many don't believe that they do, a silent testament to his self-control. When he does finally let loose, the rage inside of him is revealed. The last thing the targets of his ire see is his body splitting apart, revealing the blazing inferno within him.

[stingslikeabee]

Daigo was sound asleep, curled into a ball in the middle of their bed ― a mess of tattooed skin, hair, and covers knotted together. Little could have made him stir, which is why he failed to notice the piercing bites enter the soft skin of his hand. It wasn't until they really started to hurt that Daigo slowly opened his eyes. Pain wasn't a sensation he was really familiar with.

Perched on the back of his hand was a massive, thin - legged brown spider with curious black markings. Daigo frowned at it thoughtfully : his wife's newest addition to her collection, he remembered, was a brown recluse pair with a twist that made them far more dangerous than their conventional cousins. Melissa must have left this one in the bedroom so they could bond. Daigo scrubbed his face with his free hand and carefully slipped out of bed. Once he was up, the assassin gathered the spider between his palms. Even with their size, the darling poked out of his fingers. It bit him a third time for good measure, which made Daigo chuckle.

He found his wife in the sitting room, studying some sort of black abyss his non - magical gaze sadly couldn't see. On her shoulder was the mate to the recluse he carried. Daigo wandered into the room without a stitch of clothing. There was a sheen of sweat to his brow ; the gait of his walk was worsening ; and Daigo was shaking. As he reached his greatest treasure, the assassin's knees gave out entirely. He staggered down, legs hitting the front of her seat and upper torso sagging into her lap for support. As he settled there, he unclasped his fingers to free to delicately - handled and unharmed gentleman that woke him up.

The true work of the recluse was on full display. Daigo's left arm was turning red, and the flesh around the three bites was wearing away to muscle and bone. The limb convulsed, flexing involuntarily.

"They work wonders," Daigo murmured. These recluses were enormous ; their bites, thusly, could eat a man to the bone far faster than a normal, coin - sized spider of their species. " ― your new beauties, Melissa. I would . . . " The assassin laid his head on her thighs, realizing that he was evidently due to fall back to sleep. He trusted that his wounds would be cared for by the witch : likely soothed and wrapped after she examined as much of the necrosis and gathered whatever damaged tissue she desired. Daigo smiled, glad the recluse was returned to her. "Thank you, my Queen. Nothing has hurt since your sweet widows got me last winter ; this is ― ah, it's so good."

unscripted asks . always accepting

The early hours of the morning were always the best for establishing a clean, undisturbed connection with those who were beyond the veil - the witching hour, as it had grown to be informally called even among these without any abilities. Melissa’s gift made her extremely susceptible to the demands and voices from those no longer walking the Earth - between distant ancestors and complete strangers who happened to anchor to the brunette’s powers for a message, it wasn’t uncommon for her to prefer to sleep during the day so her reunions could be more productive.

That evening, one of her newly procured babies was keeping Melissa company during these conversations - the beautiful pair of overgrown, incredibly poisonous and very agile spiders had been apprehended by the local city’s police, supposedly trafficked by lowly ranked criminals who did not provide for them correctly and succumbed to their bites. Thing had helped with their rescue, and the two darlings were added to her lair and sanctum for all things with several legs and the ability to sweetly assassinate any mortal.

Melissa, however, was immune to most of these poisons - if not all; whereas Morticia had grown to care for plants with similar traits, her twin had specialized in insects and arachnids. Together, they covered an amazing range of flora and fauna that would make most humans run and scream with fear, but which were the loveliest creatures of their respective realms in their own eyes.

Or almost - no one truly compared to Daigo in Melissa’s eyes, of course. The witch had fallen for him as soon as they met, and a few years later in their marriage, her adoration for the assassin had only increased. His pull over her was stronger than those from beyond - the sound of his movements and finally the deep voice brought her back to the same dimension as him, and the brunette received the spider from his hands with a soothing sound, placing it on the opposing shoulder and giving the eight-legged couple some time to reconnect.

“See, Ferdinand? I knew you had potential. A few days in the room and you’re already back to full form. I’m sure this will please Gabrielle very much,” Melissa spoke with a smile, somehow able to distinguish between the two creatures, reaching out for the man who was on the verge of losing consciousness at her feet. Oh, what sweet vision Daigo made like that - it did remind her of their first encounter, and how swiftly he had fallen to the ground upon exposure to a poison he had not built immunity for.

“Perhaps we should make a tradition out of tonight, chéri. You do look exquisite like this - I’m delighted we could torture you properly,” the witch said with fondness in her voice, a hand going out to touch Daigo’s face tenderly. He was starting to grow feverish - the increase in temperature for a man normally so warm would not be immediately perceptible if Melissa wasn’t slightly below average herself and so incredibly in tune to her husband’s vital signs. As much as they hoped to be embraced by the flames of hell one day - this was the source of warmth that the woman truly favored among them all.

A soft tapping sound distracted the witch - and she looked up to see Thing entering the room, immediately earning a smile from Melissa. The greatest mystery of the Addams Family was now living with them, to literally lend an extra hand around the couple’s infants. A boy, twin girls (the generation’s witches, no doubt) and one more on his way - the brunette was fairly sure she was with child, despite being still early on and invisible to the naked eye.

“Perfect timing, Thing. Could you bring my tools from the vivarium? I’d rather not walk to the enclosure and dislodge Daigo - he’s sleeping so beautifully,” Melissa sighed adoringly after her request, fingers moving to his hair and combing through his messy, longer locks. The assassin looked so serene - absolute in peace, with the corners of his lips slightly twisted in a smile. By Hecate - he was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon.

“Oh - do check on the children while you’re going there?” Melissa asked, making Thing halt before leaving the room but then it turned around, signaling with a thumb up for her, “I hope they are having the worst nightmares.”

[the-whispers-of-death]

i need all your ocs face shapes, eye shapes/colors, hairstyles/lenghts/colours, nose shapes and everything else please im feral

Okay, this one's going to be a doozy because there's fifteen COD OCs, but at least I've written posts about some of their physical details so I can just link those posts about those OCs and then do the rest that I haven't talked in detail about their appearance.

Literally all of them except Blackout and Cerberus (technically only one of his eyes is not brown) have brown eyes. But all of them do have black hair. So I won't talk about their eye color and hair color.

So Stone, Kali, Sarabi, Simba, and Nala's appearances are talked about here. The physical description for Bloodhound, Frost, Blackout, and Bear are here, though I did change Bloodhound's facial scar to going ear to ear with it going across his nose as well. Hellstorm looks like a younger version of Shah Rukh Khan and I'll put the link to the post where I show the picture of him here.

Okay, so Heartthrob's face shape is round and so is his eye shape. All of the Marines have buzzcuts so he too has a buzzcut, but if his hair was grown out it'd be wavy. His nose shape is pointed and here are the list of his tattoos/scars: U.S. Marine tattoo on his left forearm (a complex tattoo of an eagle and a globe with the words "Semper Fi" below it), an old bullet wound on his abdomen, a huge knife scar going down his back.

Ladder's hair is curly (I believe I once said she had like 3a texture hair) and it falls a little past her shoulders (so she wears it up all the time when in uniform). Her eye shape is round and her nose shape is what's called the roman. She has no scars but here are the tattoos that she has: U.S. Navy tattoo on her left shoulder (one swallow representing the 10,000 nautical miles she's traveled on U.S. naval ships), tattoo sleeve of vines on her right arm. She also has glasses, thin and metal. (I always forget she has glasses.)

Cerberus used to have longer hair like Stone's, but he buzzed it all down to a buzz cut when he got rescued because it got all matted from his captivity. His face shape is His nose shape is button nose and his eye shape is almond. As I said earlier, he does have one brown eye (his left) and his right eye is cloudy white because of a scar going down it and it blinded him (not fully, just partially).

Here are his tattoos/scars: U.S. Navy tattoo on his left shoulder (one swallow representing the 10,000 nautical miles he's traveled on U.S. naval ships), a U.S. Marine tattoo on his right forearm (a complex tattoo of an eagle and a globe with the words "Semper Fi" below it), several whip and knife scars covering his torso, arms, legs, and back. He has a huge knife scar going down his right eyebrow and eye.

Python's face shape is heart and his nose shape is bulbous while his eye shape is round. His hair is the same length as Stone's (story of my life, I know) and it's straight.

Here are his tattoos/scars description: Facial scars (bear claw marks on the left side of his face), pierced ears, full sleeve tattoo of two snakes intertwining on both arms and legs, large tattoo on the middle of the back of a snake swirling upwards until it reaches the shoulder blades, tattoo of the Rod of Asclepius on his left rib cage, tattoos of his late parents name on his ankles with one name on one ankle and the other name on the other ankle.

Death... Death is a little bit tricky. I'm torn between having him be a white man (because he's Russian) but he keeps showing me a mental image of a black man. Anyways, so his skin color is a current mystery, but he has a square face shape and his eye shape downturned. His nose shape is roman. And here are his scars (yes he has no tattoos): Whip scars on his arms, legs, back, and torso. A very old burn scar on the nape of his neck. A jagged knife scar going through his left eye scar but didn't blind him.

Yes, I did in fact decide to just copy and paste everyone's marks section on their basic info post.

[honeytae]

I get to snuggle with the birthday boy in his big boy bed.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNGKOOK!!!! we absolutely adore you baby boy :( this is a really soft self serving piece because who doesn’t want to sleep in jungkooks childhood bedroom? right? like, my heart would burst out of complete fondness for him. i hope you all like this, i’m sorry for making jungkook’s parents only appear for like three split seconds LMAO

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

With Jungkook’s loosened schedule, you were able to get to his parents home for the better half of the week, the man practically giddy at the thought of you finally coming home with him. You had met his parents several times before, yes, but you were yet to stay in their home. Jungkook’s childhood home.

The drive outside of Seoul was filled with Jungkook’s playlist and your familiar bickering patterns, his tattooed hand holding your own over the gear stick as he bobbed his head to the beat resounding throughout the car.

“Has anyone ever told you your voice is superb?”

“Has anyone ever told you your face is superb?”

His excited parents had come out to welcome you as soon as you pulled in, causing both of you to smile fondly as you opened your car doors, immediately greeted with a hug from one of his parents.

As it was your first time seeing the exterior of Jungkook’s home without the tainted marks in an old image, you took a moment to observe the details, grinning at the home and all the memories your boyfriend had surrounding it.

It was a quaint little house nestled between two others, pale in color yet bustling with flowers in the garden out front.

“Aw, this house is adorable.” You had cooed as you walked up the driveway, hugging his arm closer to you as he simply chuckled, his mother acknowledging you with a sweet smile of her own.

“Make yourself at home, dear.” She’d said, gesturing you into the doorway with a sparkling glint in her eye, his father chuckling as he raised your bag up in his hand.

“I’ll go drop this off in Jungkook’s room for you. We’d have you stay in the guest room, but it’s under renovation right now.” He said, his mother echoing his apology with a shake of her head as she sighed about a recent flood.

“That’s perfect. Thank you.” You smiled at them, Jungkook squeezing your shoulder before setting off for the kitchen, coming back with two glasses of water for you both to sip at.

The room was unequivocally him, from the countless Iron Man action figures to the various sketches lining the walls, obviously pinned up himself with little thumbtacks.

Over the course of the wall, the thumbtacks climbed higher and higher, indicating his growing height over time and increasing skill along with it.

“Literally nothing has changed in here since I left for Seoul.” He shyly giggled at the state of the room from behind you, making you turn back toward him with a fond smile as you reached up to squeeze his cheeks.

“It’s precious, I love it.” You eased him, the man melting into your touch with a giddy smile, turning his cheek to pucker his lips against the palm of your hand.

The room very much was the state of a fifteen year old boys room, but it was so him. Obviously the whole day to day of his life had turned upside down from what it was when he last lived in this room, this house, but Jungkook was still that fifteen-year-old boy at his core. You adored him even more for it.

“Baby.” He called for your attention, your eyes flitting to him in a widened glance.

“Nothing has changed in here.” He reiterated, chuckling slightly at your confused hum. Placing his hand on your lower back, he guided you to face the opposite side of the room, directly pointing to his twin-size bed.

Giggling a bit at the adolescent sheet pattern, you turned back to him with a beaming smile, knocking his shoulder with your forehead.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Figuring it out, as you had so simply put it, was a lot easier said than done.

Shifting your leg over a bit to escape the edge of the bed, you froze at the sound of Jungkook’s pained groan, bracing yourself against his shoulders as you moved your knee away from his crotch.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You okay?” You soothed against his neck, raising your eyebrows as you awaited an answer from the injured man.

The lack of light within the room, merely a sliver creeping in through the blinds, left you clueless to his gentle smile and overall relaxation of his face from moments prior, the feeling of his hand soothing up and down your arm easing you slightly.

“‘S fine, love.” He verbally confirmed, brushing his lips against your chin before shifting up on his pillow a few inches, now evenly level with your mouth to press all the kisses he wanted on your bottom lip.

You hummed as he pulled it into his mouth to gently suckle on, nibbling at it slightly before pulling away with a deep sigh.

“Under different circumstances, I’d have you kiss it better.”

With a scoff at his crudeness, you attempted to roll over to face away from the man, and having forgotten you were in a bed meant for a small child, quickly began your descent to the floor with a fold of your arm beneath you.

“Babe!” Jungkook reached out to catch your bicep with a strong hand latched around the muscle, rolled over himself from trying to chase you on your fall from his oh so convenient twin bed.

A soft ‘thud’ resounded through the room as your knee hit the floor, your leg bending out of reflex to catch your short-lived fall from his mattress. Jungkook, stunned above you, looked at you with scrunched brows, his piercing glinting in the moonlight streaming in from the crack in the blinds as he bit down on his bottom lip.

He couldn’t stifle the laugh born out of whatever the fuck had just happened, little giggles growing louder yet more isolated as he tried his best to muffle them into his sheets, you not faring much better splayed out on the floor below.

“Kook, this is all your fault.” You whined from the ground, trying your best to hold in your own laugh as he reached down to you, sliding his hands beneath your arms to lift you back up onto the bed beside him.

“Why is it my fault, hm?” He asked slyly, letting his hands glide down your torso to land on your hips, leaving them there as you rolled your eyes again at the man.

“Maybe because you’re making crude dick jokes in your parents house.” You said, Jungkook humming in thought before a shrug from his shoulders shifted the mattress.

“Wouldn’t that be more of a blowjob joke?” He wondered aloud, ”I mean, let’s be politically correct here.”

“Politically- Jungkook!” You exclaimed, appalled at his bluntness with his parents only rooms away and most likely within earshot of every word that came out of his mouth.

Your boyfriends giggles were all you got in response, making you smile despite your initial annoyance. His hand slid over the back of yours to grip your fingers, pulling gently to coax you closer to him in his laid down position.

“C’mere, sweet pea.” He murmured, tone softened from only moments before, the pet name making your heart thrum a bit more in your chest.

With a careful lowering of your body to the mattress, you snuggled up to him once again, this time successfully getting into a front facing spooning position with no injury on either end.

He smelled warm, like cotton and that fabric softener that he loved along with the wood tones of the cologne he’d bought himself a few months back.

His skin felt like velvet as you stroked your fingers up and down his inked arm, the dark designs a stark contrast to the way his soft flesh leaned into your touch.

“Lucky me.” You smiled blissfully, stroking the man’s hair back behind his ear to admire his features easier.

“Lucky you?” He repeated, confusion laced in his tone as he raised his pierced eyebrow at you.

“I’m the luckiest of all,” you paused for dramatics, “because I get to snuggle with the birthday boy in his big boy bed.” You cracked a smirk, snorting when his face dropped at your words.

“Shut up.” He laughed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head with a sigh.

“I love you, Kookie.”

“Hm, love you too, honey.”

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

i had a craving for some warm apple cider and it reminded me of etrry. he would fuck that shit up omg omg christian girl fall is totally alienrry he would love going to the apple orchards and shit

The first time he tries a pumpkin spice latte, his feedback makes Y/N’s stomach flutter with endearment.

Harry smack his lips as he savors the spices and cozy notes in the drink, furrowing his brows in thought as he picks through all of the different emotions the taste produces. After a moment, his entire body relaxes, and a homey smile makes its way across his dimpled cheeks. “It tastes the way a warm hug feels.”

Y/N’s lips twitch as she sips from her own drink, letting his interpretation sink in. He’s recently taken to relating flavors to feelings and experiences, and the analogies he conjures up always amuse her to no end. “That was pretty poetic of you.”

Harry simpers over the brim of the coffee cup, hugging it with both hands as indulges another gulp. “Thank you, I think.”

She can’t help but notice how big his hands are— how they easily dwarf the paper mug, and how pretty his nails look covered in sage green polish (she’d painted them that color for the sake of irony, and he’d thought the joke was hilarious). The more she dwells on every detail of his hands— the veins that chisel over the back as he tightens his hold, or the length of his nimble fingers, or the small alien hieroglyphic tattoo along the area between his index finger and thumb— the more her thoughts derail towards the graphic end of the spectrum. Specifically, how he’d had those same hands all over her body the night prior.

How they had been tangled in her hair as they stumbled towards her room blindly, too lost in the sensation of each other’s lips to give anything else much attention. How his hands had felt as they hurriedly coasted down her chest and along the bottom of her sweatshirt, pulling it off in one swift motion so he could taste every inch of her skin, his tongue leaving a sweltering heat along her cleavage. How they had gripped her knees and spread them open as he situated himself onto his stomach on the mattress, a faint white cast sheathing his irises as he’d seen the way she was already dripping in anticipation. How his palms had held her down to the bed as he’d bobbed his head between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her sloppily as he’d moaned into her clit, the sound wet and guttural as his back muscles visibly tightened while she’d tugged at his curls and scratched at his scalp. How one hand had grasped her hip desperately as the other wrapped around her throat, its first two fingers weighing on her tongue as she’d sucked on them feverishly, wisps of his name escaping her throat as he’d pounded raw pleasure into the pit of her tummy. How he’d whimpered and gasped into her ear as his nails dug memories into the skin of her waist, and how she’d caught a glimpse of his fingerprints this morning in the mirror, dusted across her flesh in the form of bruises.

Harry’s voice yanks the girl out of her head. “What are you drinking?”

Y/N isn’t really one to crave coffee during the afternoon, so she’d picked up a bottle of rosé on the way home from grocery shopping, right before going to the drive-through at the nearest Starbucks to get him his beverage. He’d seen a commercial for it on TV the other day, and had expressed his interest for it during breakfast as she’d shoveled scrambled eggs onto a plate while he cut up a green apple across the kitchen island, popping a slice into his mouth while neatly organizing the others along his circular platter. And how could she say no to him, especially when he’d been standing there with such a hopeful look in those olive green puppy eyes, his cheeks puffed out with fruit and her teeth marked all over his neck and chest.

“It’s, uhm—” She clears her throat roughly, expelling the image of Harry’s toned stomach and thick happy trail from her brain. She snaps her gaze up to meet his, and the blissfully unaware innocence behind his tone and over his features makes blood rush to her cheeks. “It’s rosé.”

Harry sets down his cup carefully on her coffee table, shifting further back onto the couch and slouching into the cushions, his legs spreading open casually as he settles in. “That’s a type of alcohol, correct?”

Y/N glances down at his thighs momentarily, where his mesh shorts are riding up dangerously high. “Yep.”

If he notices, he doesn’t to show it, seen in how his accent maintains the same nonchalant curiosity as before. He throws an arm around her shoulders easily, scooting his body closer to her own across the sofa. He’s gotten way touchier since they started sleeping together, and she can’t say she doesn’t like it. She likes it more than she should, probably.

“The same liquid in those spiked ciders you got me last time? The sour one that incapacitates you?”

Y/N scoffs lightly at his accurate description, willingly leaning into his torso and folding her legs up under herself as she props her wine glass on her knee. “Mmhm. But that only happened because you drank the entire pack like a moron, remember?”

Harry rolls his eyes at her chastising tone and flat expression. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe you should have asked me before randomly drinking things from that shelf in the fridge.”

“You were in the shower.”

“You could have waited.”

“I was thirsty.”

“There’s a water filter at the sink.”

“I wanted juice.”

“There was grape juice beside the milk.”

“I wanted apple and the bottles had pictures of them on the label. My apologies for using my practical thinking skills and measures of deduction.”

Y/N sighs in good-natured exasperation, shoving him with her shoulder as revenge for his snarky comebacks. “Well, look where your practical thinking skills and measures of deduction got you— bent over the toilet bowl with puke shooting out of your nostrils. Now you know that anything with the word, ‘alcohol’ on it needs to be taken in moderation. Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” The young woman takes a sip from her glass, savoring it patiently as the sweet and tangy flavor filters through her taste buds. “Lesson learned, then.”

“Unfortunately.” The alien deadpans, pinching along the underside of her underarm just to feel her squirm and squeak. He smiles childishly at her reaction, giggling as she curses at him under her breath.

“You almost made me spill my drink.” She grumbles, getting comfortable once more against his warm body. “And this is the good stuff, too. I’d break the bottle over your head.”

“A bit rash, I think.” Harry snorts sarcastically, eyeing the pink moscato for a moment as it swishes inside her chilled cup, her fingers leaving smudges in the condensation. He then lilts his gaze back towards her own, his tone soft and full of wonder. “Can I try?”

“Promise not to throw up all over my floor again?” The girl quips tauntingly, jutting her chin towards her rug symbolically.

Harry exhales in surrendered embarrassment, lifting his hand and hooking their pinkies together. “Pinky swear.”

Y/N nods her head in the agreement, fending off a fond grin as she lifts the glass to his plush, rosy lips. “Go ahead, then, Area 51.”

The alien snorts softly at the nickname, well aware of its origins now that he’s learned more about Earth’s relationship with extraterrestrial components. Those documentaries on the Discovery Channel are quite educational.

Harry sifts his mouth over the rim of the glass, making eye contact with Y/N to let her know he’s ready for her to pour the drink in. She tilts the wine, watching it funnel past his lips to gauge how much is an adequate amount. She pulls back, observing as he nurses the liquid pensively, his brows creasing like before as he distinguishes all the different flavors present. He smacks his lips again, blinking slowly as he forms his opinion, licking at a drop that had escaped the corner of his mouth.

“So?” Y/N inquires, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “What’s it taste like?”

Harry cranes his sight over to her, the studious expression on his face melting into one of slight smugness, as if what he’s about to say is something amusing. The left edge of his mouth jolts upwards, a sly smirk carving its way across his face as he presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek almost arrogantly, his eyes raking down her body in an objectifying once-over. His descent stops at her clasped thighs, which he focuses on for a few seconds longer than she deems acceptable, and then his gaze travels back up to lock with her own. There’s now a different type of darkness to the jade swirling around his pupils, electrified by something he has yet to express to her fully, but seems excited to do so.

The young man leans forward, and Y/N almost falls back at the sudden closeness of their proximity. He ghosts his lips over the curve of her jaw and across the slope of her cheekbone, stopping at the shell of her ear as if he wants to share a secret. He drags his pillowy lips over the area with every intention to rile her up, his skin cool and damp from the beverage, but unbelievably warm beneath the initial shock of that caveat. His breath carries the same juxtaposing sensations— it’s cold on impact, but heats up the farther it travels across the side of her face and down to the pulse in her neck. His words are low and heavy, but sultry and smooth like the wine they’d shared; a seductive whisper that intoxicates her in a fiery manner that no amount of alcohol ever could.

“It tastes like sex. It tastes the way you do between your thighs, and it feels the way you feel when I’m buried between your legs. And if I close my eyes and savor it, I can taste you whining my name into my mouth, and I can taste you begging for it on my tongue.”

[tojislvtb0t]

Sorry To Wake You

Hatake Kakashi x F!Reader (fluff)

“When sleep doesn’t come easy, he can always count on her.”

She sat up and looked towards her window where he sat crouched on her small balcony, his open eye filled with exhaustion, maybe even a little boredom. Typical Kakashi. Her feet touched the cold ground lightly and she wandered to the window on the balls of her feet, making little to no sound. The window opened and he tilted his head as she moved aside.

“It’s late this time, Kakashi.” Her voice quietly cutting through the silence after a few moments.

“Got lost on the-“

“-path of life.” The two said in unison. He laughed softly. “Come in. It’s kind of chilly tonight.”

He did. Kakashi often found himself in her home on nights like these. Nights he laid awake, thinking of everything he did wrong in his life, or nights where the PTSD ate at him mind’s sleep only to startle him awake from a night terror. There was something about her that was comforting. He could say that he was infatuated with her, that he could see a future with her, but he would lose her. Like he’s lost everyone else.

“Sorry to wake you.” Kakashi said, his hand scratching behind his head, voice heavy with exhaustion. He probably hadn’t sleep very well in the past few days. “I’ve been tossing and turning all night trying to stay away, but... well, you know I suppose. I always seem to sleep a little better here.”

“It’s okay, I have trouble sleeping anyway. You don’t ever bother me when you come here.” She smiled softly at the copy ninja, touching his bare shoulder to reassure him, brushing down the Anbu mark tattooed on his skin. Kakashi felt himself blush under the mask, thanking the moon’s dim light as well. Her touch... her. “‘Kashi-kun, c’mon.” He shook his head from his thoughts, feeling her tug his wrist to follow her to bed. That nickname. It made him forget what he really was to everyone. Cold-blooded Kakashi. Friend-Killer Kakashi. Kakashi of the Sharingan. He wouldn’t have minded them if they weren’t true. Of course, that is who he is and he wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t, but she could distract him from it for a little while. “What?”

“Uh? Nothing. Just thinking.” he replied. She raised an eyebrow at her guest, but crawled into bed without pressing, leaving room for Kakashi to follow. She often wondered why it was her he came to. What made her the one that seemed to comfort him most? Kakashi was, well, to be frank, a pussy magnet, although he was a bit strange and reserved, after all, no one just read porn in public like he does. She’s not even entirely certain he’s had sex with anyone. No matter, younger women of the village didn’t even need to see his face to be attracted to the man, his attitude and politeness did it for them. She’d never seen his entire face either, so she wasn’t counting herself as super special, but she couldn’t help but get warm inside when he appeared at her window on any given night.

It didn’t used to be like this. She used to think Kakashi was cocky and arrogant, that his captain fueled ego made his head huge and he was obnoxiously good at everything. And his chidori. He lived up to the name cold-blooded Kakashi back then. The way he had programmed himself to turn off every emotion he had and be a killing machine. Nowadays, now older, those who didn’t know him would say he’s lazy, always late, and has no care or desire to do anything unless it was a mission. He rarely went out, and when he did it was at the pressure of Gai and Asuma. But she knew that it was quite the contrary. Kakashi was a wonderful sensei, albeit difficult, that pushed his students past their breaking points. He cared greatly for his missions, too. Kakashi wasn’t the distant, closet perv everyone thought him to be. She knew the older ninja better than that.

“You don’t have to apologize for coming, you know? You always act like it would bother me.” she glanced sideways, watching the shinobi crack his knuckles and settle into the pillows behind him. His scarred Sharingan eye met her sideways glance before his head turned towards her. Was he making sure to remember this? “No pervy novel tonight either, that’s not the Kakashi I know.”

He responded with a shrug, face and eyes going back to the ceiling, calculating but relaxed. Kakashi was constantly on edge, maybe that’s from his Anbu captain days. She wondered what he was like before all of that happened to him, before Rin, before his father. What kind of man would Kakashi Hatake be if none of that happened. Would he be married now? Have kids? Still be an Anbu?

“You’re staring.” His voice snapped her out of it.

“I- I was not staring, I was just...” She trailed off, huffing quietly. Kakashi smiled softly under his mask as how flustered she got. He wondered if she would do what she did four nights prior in her sleep. Kakashi had been sitting awake reading his novel as she snored softly, murmuring nonsense. He looked down, watching her, contemplating what she could be dreaming about (hoping it may have been him). She furrowed her brows and reached her arm across her bed, placing it over his waist and pulled herself against his flank, one of her legs bending to rest over his.

Kakashi froze when she did, the Icha Icha novel forgotten, but still open in his fingers. He slowly closed the book, trying his best to stay as still as possible as to not to disturb the woman curled up in the crook of his torso and his hips. His fingers threaded through her soft hair, a knot growing in his stomach and she squeezed his body just a little tighter. Kakashi thought to himself that he wouldn’t mind ending ever night of the rest of his life like this, just her and him... and the hounds. But just the two of them. Maybe he wouldn’t mind a kid, but if not, this would do just fine for him.

“You know,” Kakashi turned his attention back to the present as she finally broke the silence. “you’ve always had that mask on. Why? I mean, every time you come here you’re still wearing it. Even after all these years we’ve known each other.”

He chuckled quietly. “Just... something I’ve always done. Even before the Anbu or the Academy. I look too much like my family... too much like my father.”

“I bet it’s a handsome face.”

“Hm?”

“Your face under the mask. I bet it’s handsome. Maybe it’s not a bad thing to look like your clan, Kakashi, after all, you’re your own person. What happened to your father is no reflection on who you are.”

Silence hung over the two, neither wanting to say what they so desperately wanted to. He was too afraid to love and she was too afraid to get hurt. Kakashi made up his mind, his fingers reaching up and lowering the fabric in the presence of another for the first time in a very long time. She watched, eyes growing wide as he let out a breath as the cool air touched the bottom half of his face.

Of course he was that gorgeous. Of course he looked like a god in the moonlight. Of course Kakashi Hatake was the pussy magnet he was. She noticed small details. Particularly he beauty mark under his bottom lip, lips that curved perfectly and looked soft. She smiled when he looked down from her gaze, cheeks tinged pink with the embarrassment of being admired.

“I was right.” He looked back at her as she stroked a hand through his silver hair.

“Don’t flatter me.” he said.

She felt particularly brave. Why? She didn’t think she knew. But she turned Kakashi’s face and pressed her lips to his, and they were soft. So soft. The hand reaching around her back was calloused from years of missions and training, but the arms that enveloped her were sturdy and strong. They didn’t kiss one another rough, there wasn’t just lust between them. They had more, something unspoken, something that started years ago when his soft knuckles hesitantly touched her window for the first time.

“You can come to me anytime, Kakashi.” she said to him that day with a smile after he had disclosed to her about his night terrors. “Sometimes it helps when someone else is there.”

Kakashi whined ever so softly at the loss of her kiss when she pulled away. Her soft laughter was music to his ears, he didn’t want to lose her, but it would be so much worse if she was with someone else.

“I’m afraid.” Kakashi confessed. She listened, locking her eyes with his as she carded through his hair softly. “If I lost you like I lost everyone else... I don’t know what I’d do... I want you, but I don’t want to get attached and have you ripped away from me.”

“Oh ‘Kashi...” Her eyes held a sadness, a small amount of pity for him. Of course he was scared, but to hear the copy ninja himself say he was afraid just felt different. “You don’t need to be afraid, but it’s okay to be.”

“It’s always been you, you know? Even when it seemed like I wanted nothing to do with you.” She blushed. “In reality, I was afraid that if I let myself love you, you’d get taken from me...”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her face between his neck and her arms. He wrapped one arm around her upper back and the other around her waist, pulling her as close as possible. He didn’t need her to answer, the way she held him now was enough for Kakashi to know. “Don’t you have to meet your students tomorrow morning? It really is quite late.”

“Mh. They’re used to it.” he murmured to her. He was always late, always has been, always will be. And to be with her, he’ll be late to everything. She laughed lightly, swinging herself off his body and sitting back with him, her arm touching his.

“So we’re going to try?” she asked. Kakashi nodded once and brought his arm up and around her shoulders, sighing contently when she rolled a bit to tuck herself against him. This was going to be fine this time, that’s what they both told themselves. It would be fine.

[spxllcxstxr]

Have You Seen a Lady Fairer? • J.P

(GIF not mine)

Request: hi gorgeous! can you please write an imagine with James where the reader is insecure about her stretch marks? — anon

Summary: James comforts you when you’re insecure about your stretch marks

Warnings: insecurities, body insecurities, tears

Word Count: 1k

A.N: Even though I personally struggle constantly with this, this was kinda hard to write. When I’m insecure I just bottle it up, so writing about someone being reassuring about it was a bit out of my depth, so I hope I did this request justice. I also want to say that each and every one of you is beautiful. No matter what kind of marks are on your body, shape, size, everything about you is perfect. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. Love you all ❤️

Title: The Rolling Stones - She’s a Rainbow

****

James’ bed is the kind you sink into. It’s so soft and comfortable, and entirely unfair because the mattress in your own dorm is definitely not like his.

Which is why after a long day of double Potions and Transfiguration, the two of you are buried underneath burgundy blankets, faces buried in cloudlike pillows. Ones that are also mysteriously absent from your own bed. In your haze you distantly wonder who your boyfriend’s been bribing to get all the good stuff.

James’ face is tucked into your shoulder from behind, his breath warming a little spot on the fabric of your shirt. And by your shirt, you mean James’ Quidditch jersey.

An arm is lazily thrown over your torso, slender fingers tiredly playing with the hem of his stolen jersey.

Your back is pressed against his chest, heating your entire body like a furnace. Snuggling closer to him, you sigh in content.

Legs are tangled together and you’re thankful you remembered to throw on some fuzzy socks because your boyfriend’s feet are pressed against your own, and his are always cold as ice.

James hums sweetly into your ear and you smile, on the precipice of slumber. After almost setting Slughorn’s beige robes on fire with your disastrous potion, this was the perfect way to end the day.

The breath on your back begins to even out, but at the same time, James’ hand slips underneath your shirt, seeking out a comfortable resting position.

Normally, his hand up your shirt is a nonissue, but his fingers are getting awfully close to the spots you know and hate.

His fingertips dance around your navel and skim near your hips, making you cringe away from falling asleep.

“Jamie...” You mumble out, hand blindly searching for his. Sleepily, you continue to groan.

His touch barely grazes the lines of indentations when you catch his hand and remove it from your skin.

“Wha’s wrong, love, hm?” James slurs, returning from the space between wakefulness and sleep.

He doesn’t fight as you lightly shove his hand out from under your shirt, sensing your discomfort almost immediately.

“Jus’ don’t worry ‘bout it.” You yawn, desperate to change the subject. “Go back to bed.”

But James is already sitting up, groping around his nightstand for his glasses. Like always, though, he’s forgotten where exactly he left them.

After finally prying your eyes open, you roll them at his struggle. “Next to the lamp, dear.”

Fearing the impending conversation, you shift around, pulling the blankets closer to your chest, hoping to alleviate some of the anxiety.

“Ah-ha! Thank you, love.” You hear the metal temples of his glasses clink together.

You draw your knees closer to your torso in a fetal position, shielding a few of those horrid spots.

He looms over you carefully. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong, love?”

“It’s nothing, Jamie. Promise.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, (Y/n).” James counters, bringing his hand up to awkwardly cup your face. “Tell me what’s botherin’ my girl.”

Reluctantly, you shift so you’re leaning against the headboard.

James’ hazel eyes shine with concern behind his glasses, a pout tugging at his lips. He brings his hand out to rest on your blanket clad knee.

Again, your fingers play with the edge of the blanket in embarrassment.

“If I tell you, you can’t laugh.” You instruct timidly.

James brings his free hand up to his hair, running it through his dark chaotic curls. Bedhead, you observe, suits him nicely.

“I won’t.” He promises, raising his hand in the air. “Wizard Scout’s Honor.”

He grins at the little giggle that escapes your lips.

“So what’s wrong?” He’s facing you, legs crossed head in hand.

You duck your head realizing he won’t drop the topic.

“It’s just...” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “There are certain parts of my body that I’m not particularly...fond of...” Quickly, you drop your gaze to the hand resting on your knee.

“(Y/n), your body is beautiful.” James gapes.

You can’t see his eyes, but you just know that they’re wide and shining in disbelief. That’s how James gets when he’s upset. His mouth always falls open and the tops of his ears go bright red.

“It just doesn’t feel like that sometimes y’know?” You confide. “I’ve got—I’ve got these stretch marks that just ruin everything.”

A lump forms in your throat, finding it cathartic to finally get this off your chest.

James scooches closer to you, lifting his hand from your knee and instead cupping your face. He tilts your head up so you’re able to to look into his eyes.

“That doesn’t make you any less stunning, (Y/n). Moony’s got marks all over him, and he’s not, as you say, ‘ruined’.” He argues.

“That’s different.” You mutter.

“How?”

“It just is, alright?” You turning your head, you rip away from his light hold. Tears well up and the pit in your stomach grows.

“Hey.” James starts softly. “Hey, it’s ok, it’s alright, love.”

Your eyes squeeze together tightly, a few tears managing to escape.

“Look at me, pretty girl, c’mon.” James murmurs.

Slowly, you return your gaze to his hazel ones, his own tears brimming, you notice, behind his glasses.

“I love you.” James reassures earnestly. “You are my gorgeous girl with or without stretch marks, acne, and other various lumps and bumps. You will always be lovely to me.” He finishes passionately.

“Oh, Jamie...” A watery smile grows across your face as you gasp.

“I mean, if you get a tattoo proclaiming your love for Severus Snape, then we might have to have a chat.” James chuckles.

“I’ll keep that in mind, then.” You push some hair behind your ear before laying back down. “Now come cuddle.”

James takes his place behind you again, arm thrown over and resting on his jersey.

He kisses the shell of your ear. “Captivating.” He murmurs. “Absolutely captivating.”

You fall asleep in James Potter’s perfectly unfair bed with a smile on your face, feeling a bit more secure in your beautiful, lovely, gorgeously captivating body.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART XIV - I feel like I should say that things don’t really get any happier?? A few years have passed since the last part and Eris is a little ooc. Just a warning that there are mentions of character death and blood. Thank you to everyone who reads.

omfg i am SO sorry it took me forever to get this part up. anyway im crying

Prince of Ashes. Part XIV.

masterlist.

Eris sat on his stool once more, the old wooden legs creaking under his weight. He was well aware that the small, ugly tavern was well below an acceptable place for him to be, but he’d needed a break. Pity, Eris thought, that he hadn’t been able to find one. He shook his head, little pieces of broken glass falling from his hair and onto the sticky bar top. He felt blood dripping down the side of his face and wiped it away with the back of his hand.

The female behind the bar had pressed herself up against one of the shelves, had put as much distance between the two of them as was possible. Eris simply pushed the glass in front of him towards her, no emotion in his voice as he said, “I’ll have another, if you don’t mind.” Her brown eyes widened before she whirled around, quickly grabbing the already open bottle of cognac behind her. With shaking hands, she poured the drink into his glass.

Eris could hear her rapidly beating heart and scowled, bringing the glass to his lips and draining its contents. The female rushed to refill his glass just as the doors to the tavern opened. Eris didn’t turn to see who it was, he didn’t have to. He recognized his friend’s scent, scrunching his nose as he wiped at more blood that dripped down his face. Eris’s ears twitched at the sound of Lagos walking towards him, his boot-clad feet crunching the broken pieces of glass on the floor.

Eris tried not to breathe in too deeply as Lagos pulled a stool towards the bar, the wooden legs dragging through a pool of blood, it’s iron scent burning through Eris’s nose. 

“Have you been doing that all day?” Lagos sounded very disappointed as he sat down. 

Eris wasn’t entirely sure whether Lagos was talking about the drinking, or about the two dozen faeries he’d killed. It didn’t really matter, his answer remained the same, “Just started.”

“It’s unlike you to drink without company.”

Eris raised a brow, turning his head in his friend’s direction, but looking past him. Eris stared at the dead faerie slumped against the dark wood of the bar as he spoke, “Are you here to join me?”

Lagos sighed, moving so that Eris could look at him instead. “I’m here, Eris, because Rufus told us where you’d be. He’s worried, we’re worried, and you won’t tell any of us a thing.”

Eris scowled, turning away from him to face the female behind the bar.

She was staring at him differently now, the fact that she recognized who he was evident in her lovely features. “How much for the whole bottle?”

“Ten coppers,” she said, voice clear despite her obvious nerves.

Eris shoved his hand into the back pocket of his brown pants, placing ten gold marks on the table instead. “I’m buying the bottle and I’m buying your silence.” Eris made sure there were flames in his eyes as he looked at her.

Eris hadn’t known that the rebels he was looking for would be sitting in the tavern he’d entered. They’d paused at his arrival, their loud talking turning into hushed murmuring as he’d sat at the bar. Eris had seen the leader, had recognized her from the large scar over her brow, and wished he hadn’t. They’d all put up a good fight, would have made excellent warriors had they not chosen to fight against Beron.

Eris had decided to spare the young female behind the bar, the only survivor, because she’d reminded Eris of his mother. She placed the bottle in front of him, nearly dropping it as she said, “Yes, my prince.”

“I think it would be best if you left,” Lagos advised, tilting his head towards the door.

Eris only briefly watched the female as she grabbed the gold, as she scrambled out of the tavern, stepping over a dead male as she practically ran away from the bar.

Eris sniffed, swirling the cognac in the bottle as he slowly pushed his full glass towards Lagos. Instead of speaking, Eris chose to lift the heavy bottle to his lips.

“You aren’t going to find happiness at the bottom of that bottle,” Lagos muttered, running a hand through his long, dark hair. The gold tattoos on each of his fingers seemed brighter than usual in the gloom of the tavern.

Eris rolled his eyes, “I’m not trying to find happiness.” He raised the bottle in his friend’s direction before he took a long drink, “I’m trying to drown my sorrows.”

Lagos furrowed his brows, “I think you’ve had enough.”

“I’ve definitely not had enough.” Eris shook his head, the scent of blood making him dizzy. Perhaps if he drank a little more, he wouldn’t be able to smell it. “I finally understand why Cato was always in such a foul mood, though.”

“Eris—”

“The High Lord has me taking over some of his duties,” Eris waved a hand, eyes scanning the small space around him, looking over all the dead faeries. Eris hadn’t known the extent of what his father had been making Cato do all these years, had never bothered to ask his younger brother what his duties had been outside of questioning prisoners at The Forest House. Being in Cato’s shoes as Beron worked to find his replacement had Eris feeling absolutely dreadful.

Lagos took a deep breath, “This is what Cato did?” Of course Lagos would be horrified. Eris had been sent to the small town outside Calchas to find the steadily growing rebel group, and had been ordered to kill them if he did. Rebel groups in Autumn seemed to be getting more and more popular; Eris wasn’t surprised.

Eris faced his friend, looked into his dark brown eyes. “Horrible enough to drive anyone mad, isn’t it?”

“It would explain why you yelled at Rufus this morning.”

“Fuck off, Lagos,” Eris snapped, “Honestly, if you’re here because Rufus is worried, you’ve come here in vain.”

“I’m here,” Lagos snarled, “Because if Rufus can’t get through to you, I’m not sure anyone else can.” Eris couldn’t count the times his friends had tried to talk to him after Lucien had left Autumn, after Cato and Owain had been killed. Eris hadn’t wanted to talk to them, had pushed them away when they tried.

Eris huffed a humourless laugh, “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine.”

“Evidently,” Lagos grabbed the bottle from Eris’s hand just as he’d been about to bring it to his lips, “Of course you’re fine, Mother forbid anyone worry about you.” He slammed the bottle onto the bar.

“Don’t start with this shit again,” Eris was tired, he’d had a long day, he didn’t want to listen to anything Lagos had to tell him — he’d heard it all before.

“This is an intervention,” Lagos waved his hand, “I’m intervening. I’m not going to sit here and watch you drink, following your father’s orders as you try to win a throne you’ve never wanted.”

Eris wiped at the blood on his face again. “Who says I don’t want it?”

“You!” Lagos raised his voice a bit, “You’ve been saying it since I’ve known you!”

“Well, I changed my mind,” Eris ran a hand through his hair, he’d given this issue much thought lately.

“I’m going to steal my father’s crown and I’m going to rule Autumn.” Beron wasn’t good for this court, he’d always been too selfish, too power-hungry, too cruel. Maddox wouldn’t be a good High Lord, he was better off leading the Royal Guard. Priam was just as likely to abandon Autumn as he was to rule it well. And Rufus didn’t want the throne, even if Eris thought he would be the best one on it.

Lagos sounded frustrated as he said, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Eris flashed his friend a smile, “Not sure yet, but I’m a patient male, Lagos. I’ll wait another 300 years for that crown if I have to.” Eris had never been humble, it was easy for him to see that he was the only reasonable option, the only one of his brothers who could be a decent High Lord after he got rid of Beron.

Lagos sighed, reaching out with a hand, “Eris—”

Eris growled when Lagos placed that hand on his arm, “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m taking you home,” Lagos snapped, no longer touching him though, “Obviously, we need to talk. Unless you’d like to fight this out, just like we used to.”

“Tempting,” Eris lifted his chin, “But I just spent a good hour fighting out my anger.” That, and Eris had never beaten Lagos in a fight, and they’d fought countless times in the years they’d known each other.

“Fine, let’s just,” he held his hand out to Eris, an offering, “Let’s go home.”

There was a time where Eris would have taken his friend’s hand without question. Lagos, who had stayed by his side for nearly three centuries and was in danger because of it. Eris looked at Lagos and saw a brother, just another brother he could disappoint, another brother he could fail. Eris pushed his stool away from the bar, “You’ll have to drag me there,” he declared as he stood up.

Lagos rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, “Don’t fucking test me, Eris, I’ll do it.”

Eris waved a hand dismissively, “Go ahead.”

Eris hadn’t truly believed Lagos would do it, but when he fell to the ground, the back of his head smacking against the hardwood floor of the tavern, he guessed he’d been wrong about how much shit Lagos was willing to take from him before he snapped.

“What the fuck?” Eris snarled, kicking out one of his long legs.

“You fucking asked for it,” Lagos said through clenched teeth, his arms around Eris’s torso as a bright light flared around them.

Eris vaguely realized that Lagos had winnowed them somewhere, most likely to the yard outside his cottage.

Eris and Lagos tumbled and rolled in the long grass, fists flying. They were both punching and hitting and swearing, Eris was keeping a tight leash on his flames the whole time, still self aware enough to prevent burning one of his best friends. Eris heard Micah, would have recognized his voice anywhere, as he called out to them.

“Following orders blindly,” Lagos growled as he tried to pin Eris underneath him, “Being horrible to Rufus, ignoring your mother.” They tumbled a little more in the grass, “You’re better than this.”

Eris pushed Lagos roughly with one of his hands, “Am I?” Eris didn’t really think he was, not after all the things he’d done. Eris wasn’t a good male, that much he was certain of.

Before Lagos could respond, he was wrenched off Eris by a livid Widge. “I can’t believe you would fucking do that.”

Eris sat up, raking a hand through his now messy hair. He couldn’t remember the last time Widge had been angry, and almost felt bad for having played a part in it. Micah got down on his knees beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder, it took all of Eris’s strength not to shrug him off.

“You can’t seriously be angry at me,” Lagos growled, staring up at Widge, incredulous. “Our friend just killed over twenty people — decent, hopeful, hard-working people — because they wanted to overthrow the worst High Lord in Prythian, and you’re angry at me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Widge started, “But I think we’re all old enough to use our words instead of our fists.”

Micah shook his head, looking at Lagos with furrowed brows, “This isn’t what I had in mind when I said we needed to work things out.” Eris stiffened at the thought that his friends had been discussing him when he wasn’t there, but Micah continued speaking, anger clear in his tone. “I’m certain this was uncalled for, Lagos.”

Lagos threw his hands in the air, “You’re on his side?” Lagos seemed more surprised than hurt, “Why are you on his side, Micah?”

Micah sighed, his other hand coming up to rest on Eris’s arm. “Because he’s upset.”

“I’m not upset, why would I be upset?” They all seemed content to ignore Eris as they continued talking.

Lagos snorted, “Right, that’s the reason.”

Micah flushed, opening his mouth to respond, but Widge spoke first. “I think everyone needs to just take a breath,” he helped Lagos to his feet.

“You can take a breath, I’m not done speaking,” Lagos muttered.

Widge looked slightly panicked as he brushed some dirt off of the other male. “Enough, Lagos, just… just stop for a minute.”

Lagos ignored him, turned to face Eris, brown eyes glowing gold, “I always saw through your unbothered, arrogant, asshole act. Always. Tonight, I could not.” Lagos shook his head, “Keep the mask on long enough, Eris, and you forget what’s underneath.”

Eris held his oldest friend’s gaze, “There’s no mask.” Eris wasn’t some secret hero, he wasn’t some misunderstood male with good intentions, “I’m just my father’s son.”

Micah tightened his hold on Eris’s shoulder, “Lagos,” he said in the tone he usually reserved for ordering soldiers around, “Leave him alone.”

Lagos didn’t look like he wanted to leave Eris alone, he looked like he wanted to hit him.

Eris couldn’t blame him, but he felt oddly at peace knowing that he’d probably pushed Lagos too far. “I’m leaving,” Lagos muttered, “I’ll return when you snap out of whatever mood you’re currently in,” that statement directed at Eris. Eris wasn’t planning on snapping out of his mood anytime soon, but he watched as Lagos winnowed away without another word, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Just as Lagos left, Micah placed gentle fingers on Eris’s chin, moving some of Eris’s hair to look at him closely. “You’re bleeding.” He didn’t need to ask the question he so clearly wanted to, Eris knew what he wanted.

“One of the faeries I killed tonight threw a bottle at me,” Eris mumbled as Micah tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better look, “She had a very good arm.”

“It’s very unlike you to follow such orders,” Micah’s emerald eyes looked troubled.

Micah wasn’t wrong, Eris had gotten very good at talking his way out of orders he didn’t like. Eris felt blood trickle down the side of his face, and Micah leaned closer to him, pressed the clean sleeve of his shirt against Eris’s brow.

“My father doesn’t trust me.”

“Do you want him to?” Micah stopped pressing his sleeve against Eris’s face, his hand replacing the fabric as he held onto Eris, his thumb resting gently on Eris’s cheekbone.

“I need him to.” Eris hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to Micah.

“What is the cost?” Eris shuddered when Micah’s thumb slowly stroked his cheekbone, “What will it cost you?”

Eris knew the cost. He hadn’t been determined enough, hadn’t been focused enough on becoming High Lord all these years. He’d liked spending time with his friends, liked spending time with Rufus and Lucien. He’d liked trying to charm pretty females and handsome males, liked getting wasted on faerie wine and pixie.

He needed his father to trust him — that was the first step in taking his crown — and that meant Eris needed to get his hands dirty, needed to follow those orders with a smile on his face. Eris knew what it would cost — his friends, his brothers, his mother — and he was prepared to pay the price. Eris looked into Micah’s clear green eyes as he answered, “Everything that matters.” Micah bit the inside of his bottom lip, nodding once.

Eris froze when Micah inched closer to him, their noses almost touching, eyes half-lidded. “Eris, please—”

Eris didn’t really want to hear what Micah had to say, so he simply decided to close the distance between them. Eris tilted his head, mouth slanting across Micah’s, eyes fluttering shut when he didn’t pull away.

Micah’s lips were soft against Eris’s, the hand cupping Eris’s face was firm as he pulled Eris closer in a breathless gasp. Eris’s tongue brushed against Micah’s, and Eris felt some of the control on his magic slip.

Eris lifted his hand, tangling his fingers in Micah’s light brown hair, everything about the other male familiar. He decided that this would be the last time, his other hand fisted in the blades of grass by Micah’s hand.

With one final tender kiss on Micah’s lips, Eris pulled back, resting his forehead against Micah’s, eyes closed. “I need to sit on that throne,” Eris bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. He loosened his hold on Micah’s hair, “Maybe then I can fix this court.”

Micah pulled back, moved his hand so that it rested against Eris’s neck. “You do what you have to, Eris, but I don’t — I know I am selfish for it, but… I don’t think I can sit back and watch you.”

Eris’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Micah’s wavering voice. Micah wasn’t selfish, he was anything but selfish. Eris hadn’t been expecting Micah to be so upset, his cheeks were flushed, tears streaming down his face. Eris had to remind himself that this was for the best, that if he stayed away it would keep him safe.

“Don’t waste your tears on me, Micah,” Eris murmured. He would have kissed them away if he didn’t think it would make things infinitely more difficult.

Micah took a deep breath, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, “I need to go.” Eris felt the sudden urge to beg him not to. Instead, he just sat frozen as Micah stood to leave.

Eris stared at Micah’s feet as he walked away. He vaguely heard Widge trying to stop him, had nearly forgotten that Widge was still there. He ripped at a patch of grass, loosing a long breath.

Eris was still staring after Micah when Widge dropped down to sit beside him. “They’ll be back.”

“I don’t want them to come back,” Eris snarled, “I want to get rid of you, too.”

“I don’t think it matters what you want,” Widge ran a hand through his copper hair, “I mean, obviously it does,” he cringed. “What you want matters, it should always matter, it’s just that I think you’re lying.”

Eris wondered if it was possible to both want them to come back and want them to stay as far away from him as possible. “You’re not leaving?” Eris asked, turning to face Widge.

Widge flashed Eris a small smile, knocking his shoulder into Eris’s. “Not a chance.”

“I’m going to lean on you, then,” Eris muttered.

Widge shifted closer to him, “You can lean on me whenever you like.”

Eris crossed his arms, kicked his legs out in front of him, and slumped against Widge’s much smaller frame. “Everything I touch, I turn to ash.”

Eris felt Widge shake his head, “That’s not true.”

“It is, though,” Eris sighed, “Over two centuries of friendship just went up in flames.” Which Eris had to keep reminding himself was what he had wanted.

“They’re just worried,” Widge said, sounding very sure, “They’re also probably too proud to admit that they’re also a little afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Eris wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. The last thing he wanted was for Widge to tell him that they were all afraid of him.

“Afraid of losing you.”

Eris stared at his boots, the brown leather stained with blood. “Oh,” he said, feeling rather stupid for not having anything better to say.

“And I think you should know, Eris,” Widge continued, “That you’re nothing like your father.”

Eris didn't think that was true, but he was glad someone thought so all the same.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Six. 

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 13.8k

WARNINGS: sexual content

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts! 

January 4, 2018 

With every article of clothing that flew from the closet, Harry neatly folded each piece as he laid them flat in Luci’s suitcase. He remained seated on her beige rug, leaning against the side of her bed with an open luggage that was sat next to him as he intently listened to her ramble nervously about the new adventure she was about to take on. 

Luci had a flight tomorrow morning that was quite early for her own liking, and she was just now packing her belongings. To be fair, she had been busy meeting Samantha for extra discussions about work, and she even met her new manager, Thea, who had been so excited to meet her and manage her. Thea was a forty-two-year-old woman who had quite the experience in being a Hollywood manager. Her and Samantha were a dream-team, as they would like to call themselves, for a few years now and they’d managed to raise the newest stars up on the Hollywood sign itself. Their work was promising, and Luci put her trust and her career in the hand of the two women. 

For the past three days, Harry and Luci had been spending as much time with each other. They were saddened to be together for only three days, which was the exact amount of time they’d officially been in a relationship. But they were making the most of their time with making dinners together and sleepovers since that was the only available time Luci had since she had been so busy during the day. Harry was lucky school wasn’t back in session yet so he could put his full attention on Luci. 

Once her luggage was filled with all different types of clothing and shoes, Harry closed it for her, rolling it over next to the front door before grabbing the duffel bag he lent her and dropping it next to the luggage. It was nearing ten at night and Luci had to leave for the airport at four in the morning since Thea had booked her flight for six because she was going straight to the studio to meet the rest of the cast and do table readings. 

Harry found Luci leaning against the countertop with her back towards him. He could tell just how tense she was because of her anxiety and nerves that were boiling in her body; her shoulders seemed like they were frozen because of how tense she was, and he knew her neck started to ache because she kept rolling her head around to relieve the pain. All he wanted her to do was relax, and he could only do so much to help her ease the nerves. 

He’d learned that Luci’s love language was words of affirmation, indicating that she needed constant reassurance. It seemed fitting because as an actress, she always wanted feedback on her work; plus, she was always one for needing validation for every single thing she was proud of. And Harry seemed like the perfect guy to give her that reassurance because he loved uplifting her mood, hyping her up, and making her happy. 

Pressing his chest against her back, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin against her shoulder. His hands rubbed her lower stomach, and just the mere touch had made her relax as she loosened up in his arms; he held her up tightly so she wouldn’t have to anymore. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, knowing it was a dumb question, but he always wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just nervous,” she responded, even though he had already known. 

He kissed her cheek, and Luci melted. “You’re gonna do amazing, I just know it. The producers were so impressed with you that they wanted you to be in their movie. No one could deny your talent, Ci, I can promise you that. You’re fucking marvelous.” He had said the exact words that Luci needed to hear; she smiled, caressing his tattooed arm with her soft hand. 

“Thank you, baby.” She turned her head to the side, meeting his lips before planting an appreciative kiss for all that he had done for her. 

“C’mon, wanna show you something.” He unwrapped his arms, making her turn around suspiciously before leading her into her bedroom. 

On her bed was a photo album that had a brown leather exterior with black trimmings to protect the edge of the book. They both sat on the edge of the bed as they looked down at the front of the album. 

“This is just a little something that I thought you would appreciate,” Harry said before handing it to her. 

Luci slowly opened it to the first page of the album. Taped on a thick white construction paper was the Playbill booklet of the show, along with Harry’s ticket that he purchased next to it; at the bottom had the date of the night Luci had performed for the first time in Harry’s handwriting. On the back of the first page was every single good review everyone had to say about Luciana Suki. The reviews were cut out into strips as he tried to fit as many reviews as he possibly could on the square paper. When Harry was glueing the reviews on them, he left out about ten critics because they simply couldn’t fit on the paper; a sense of proudness had washed over him because Luci was just a likeable person along with her amazing talent—no one could not like her, 

Flipping the clear plastic sheet protector, the next page was Halloween, where Harry printed the pictures Nina had taken of them. He did not forget to write at the bottom of the page that it was Luci who had asked him out, along with the date. They both laughed once they read it because it was a memory they simply would never forget. 

On the back of the Halloween page was their first date. They had taken a selfie in front of the sunset, moments before their first kiss, capturing their well-spent day together. Along with their picture was the fair food Harry had taken, imitating a food blogger; a picture of Luci with wide eyes, staring into the camera as she took a bite of her food. Harry had smiled, heart fluttering after he’d taken the picture. 

The last page was recent; the day Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. He’d managed to make a copy of the photobooth strips since he wanted to keep the real ones on hand. The date he asked her was written in between the third and last picture as those were the exact moments he’d asked her and she said yes. 

The scrapbook was the most sentimental and thoughtful gift Luci had ever received; the time and effort Harry had put into making the entire thing showed within his creative scrapbooking skills, and it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever given her. 

“Harry…” her eyes were blurry from the tears, threatening to fall out. 

“This’ll be our little memory book. I know it’s very early in our relationship, but I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and that I’ll look back on these memories and smile because we had the best times. And I’ll keep this going and fill it with all future memories and your accomplishments because I’m so incredibly proud of you.” He delicately took her face into his hands as if he was holding a piece of art as he caressed her soft cheek with his thumb. Luci’s tears had hit his finger, overwhelmed with how much adoration and admiration Harry was giving her. 

“Thank you. I…adore you so much.” 

Far too early to say those three words, she settled for the second closest thing that verbally told him how she felt, but her feelings were just as close to the real thing, no matter if it was too early or not. 

Harry blushed. “I adore you, too.” 

Just like her, he felt those three words swimming on the tip of his tongue. His heart was beating unbelievably fast for how early their relationship was, and he made no effort into slowing down his heartbeat because he quite liked how she had that affect on him. 

Gently, she connected her lips with his. They kissed and swirled their tongues together as the electric spark ignited inside of them. Luci held onto him as tight as she possibly could, savoring his presence, his touch, his closeness since she would go months without any of those things. 

He pulled away from their intense and passionate kisses, making Luci pout and he quickly pecked her lips, kissing her frown away. 

“Can I show you how much I adore you?” 

The question had caught her off-guard. “You wanna…” 

“Only if you’d let me. I wanna take care of you,” he said genuinely. It didn’t take Luci long to nod yes. “Let me hear you say it. Please, I need your words.” Harry pleaded. 

She looked at him intently before she softly said, “Take care of me, Harry.” 

Her words only brought him relief before he kissed her cheek and pushed at her shoulder to lie back. Luci got comfortable as she laid in the middle of the bed; Harry had moved his lips down to her neck, kissing and nibbling at her skin but not hard enough to leave a mark. She softly moaned at the feeling; his lips had affected her quite a lot, and it always left her wondering what else he could possibly do with those pink lips of his and she was finally going to find out. 

Harry settled in between her legs, which she was quick to welcome him. He was hovering over her, kissing every bit of exposed skin that he saw as his hands were toying with the hem of her sweater. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, referring to her sweater.

“Yes.” She nodded.

Harry lifted her sweater, chills entered her skin as her warm sweater was taken away from her and thrown to the side of the bed. The newest bit of skin that he hadn’t seen only made him want to kiss every inch of her, to learn and memorize every crevice and dip of body. Eagerly, he kissed the valley and tops of her breasts.

“You’re so beautiful, Luciana,” he complimented. There was something about Harry telling her that she was beautiful and adding her full name with it that made her feel like snow on a warm day; she had melted entirely just by his statement.

He took her hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking and pulling at it. Luci’s hand met his hair, scratching his scalp lightly as she let out soft breaths of air. Kissing down her body, her eagerness heightened as she subconsciously bucked her hips slightly into his torso as she felt Harry smirk against her stomach. 

“Don’t laugh,” she said, looking down at him. Harry looked up as her elbows were slightly propped up against the bed with a smile that matched his. 

“Not gonna laugh, baby.”

“Okay…” she dragged out, her tone teasing. 

Continuing, he kissed the skin above the hem of her leggings before he asked if he could take them off, and she said yes. Kneeling on the bed, he took off her dark grey leggings as her legs went straight up; she was left in her cotton nude underwear, and Harry felt like he could come on the spot. He’d truly never seen someone so beautiful until he met Luci, and his admiration for her had only increased. 

“Stunning. Gorgeous. Every fucking synonym for the word ‘beautiful.’” He was amazed by her beauty, and he clearly wasn’t afraid to let her know. He loved the way she looked when she was shy and flustered, and when her cheeks would heat up too much for her own liking. But Harry thought she was absolutely adorable when she was feeling those emotions. 

“Harry, you’re too sweet.” 

“Mm, and I bet you are too?” He raised his brows, a smug smile appeared on his face. Luci bit one side of her bottom lip before she licked her lips. 

“Then why don’t you hurry up and taste for yourself.” In all honesty, she was impatient, and she was eager to feel his mouth against her. 

Harry chuckled, grabbing one of her ankles as he pressed a kiss to it, trailing his lips along the inside of her legs. He felt the goosebumps that had pricked her legs, and he loved having that sort of affect on her. Once he got to her thigh, he put her leg down and laid on his stomach in between her legs before proceeding to kiss up her thighs. 

Satisfaction was handed to him when he heard Luci heavily breathing through her nose due to his heavy and teasing kisses when he hadn’t even touched her where she wanted it the most. 

“Baby, please.” Luci’s tone was desperate as her arousal only increased, anticipating the relief she was going to feel once he touched her core. 

“Alright, alright. Since you said ‘please.’” He removed her underwear and dragged them off her legs. The sight and scent of her only salivated his mouth, only ready to devour and pleasure her to the fullest. His blood had rushed below his waist, slightly straining against his sweatpants. “Fuck, aren’t you a sight.” Luci felt shy and intimidated under his stare, causing her to close her legs, but he was quick to stop her before she closed them all the way. “No need to go shy on me, Ci. Just admiring your beauty because you’re absolutely marvelous.” She thanked him, a small smile found her face. “Now, can I please get a taste?” He asked once more. 

“Yeah, make me feel good.” 

He kissed the crevice of where her thigh and vulva met before he licked her clit. A spark was sent through her body as he continued licking, sucking her sensitive bud into his mouth, pulling back slightly. 

The feeling of his mouth on her was everything she ever hoped for. She had been so stressed about the changes that were happening quite quickly that made her feel on edge and extra needy. Especially when Harry was her boyfriend, looking extra good, she was particularly eager to jump his bones. 

“Mm, yeah, like that.” She moaned out, bucking her hips against his mouth as the tip of his tongue rimmed around her entrance, collecting and tasting her arousal. 

“Taste so good, fuck. Could be down here for hours,” he said before he boldly licked a long stripe from her weeping hole to her clit. 

He took his thumb and rubbed the bud, making her jolt because of how sensitive she was already while taking his middle finger, lubricating it with her wetness before inserting it into her hole. He pumped in and out, curled his finger, and caressed her walls, all while slowly rubbing her clit in circles. Harry earned a throaty moan, and since his hands were occupied, he finally had a moment to really look at her and take in her appearance on what he was doing to her. 

His beautiful girlfriend had her legs wide open with her back arched. She let out a string of moans and a series of curses as she placed her hands on her tits, kneading the flesh and playing with her nipples to only add to her sensitivity and pleasure. 

Harry was rock hard once he had a taste of her, but seeing her playing with herself, touching herself was the cherry on top. As if he could help it, he bucked his hips against the edge of the mattress as he let out a soft moan of relief, even though he’d rather have Luci touch him herself. 

“Harry. Harry. Harry.” She chanted as if it were the last and only thing she knew. His name off her tongue sounded like poetry—so sultry, so sensual, and so seductive. He never wanted another person to say his name again because for all he knew, Luci had possession of it. 

“C’mon, baby. Get there. Get there for me, yeah?” He never once stopped his movements, and he would beat himself up over it if he did. 

“Another…finger.” Luci requested, and he complied. Adding his index finger right next to his middle, he curled both of them up in sync, hitting the soft part of her upper walls and her g-spot. 

He relentlessly hit her sweet spot over and over again, and it had Luci moaning loudly; her sounds bounced off the walls of her room, going straight to Harry’s ears. Just as Luci was, he was on the edge as well; he continued rutting his hips against the mattress and wanted to release so badly, but he was waiting for Luci’s pleasure to wash over her. 

Replacing his thumb that was rubbing her clit so graciously with his tongue, he flicked his tongue up and down in a fast motion as he kept fingering her. She was quick to respond to the change as she tightened around his finger. 

“When you’re ready, baby, come for me.” 

Those were just the words that she needed to hear; her breaths were staggered as they were caught in her throat. For a moment in between the anticipated orgasm she’d been waiting for, she looked down at Harry because she knew that with just one look at him, she would combust. And when she did, Luci met his jaded eyes that were looking so hopeful for her release, like he was hungry for it. Her mouth fell open, disconnecting her vision from Harry as she threw her head back onto the pillow while her orgasm had tickled her skin into a toe-curling, back-arching, and loud-moaning pleasure that took her breath away. 

The rough tugs of Harry’s hair from Luci’s hands and the taste of her orgasm on his tongue only gave him the release that he was working for. He moaned against her core as the vibrations were sent through her body, making her shake. Harry’s hips slowed its movements as he breathed heavily through his nose, licking and tasting every drop that Luci had to offer him. 

Harry rested his head against Luci’s thigh; they both were catching their breaths from their orgasm as soft huffs came from their mouths. She propped her elbows up and looked down at the gorgeous man below her who was pressing kisses to her inner thigh. Running a hand through his hair, Harry looked up and she gave him a sweet smile. He crawled onto the bed, still in between her legs as he propped down onto her chest; Luci giggled at his adorableness. 

“You’re…,” she couldn’t finish her sentence as her orgasm made her speechless. Harry planted his elbows next to her, coming face-to-face with Luci before pressing a kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on him as she swirled her tongue with his. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime, anywhere, Ci. I should be thanking you, though.” Luci tilted her head in confusion. “I, uh, seemed to have taken care of myself also,” he said bashfully as her eyebrows raised. So, that’s what all the moaning and heavy breathing was about, she said to herself. “I’m sorry, that’s kinda embarrassing-”

“No.” She immediately stopped him. “That’s not embarrassing at all. That’s actually pretty fucking hot.” She reassured, the corner of her lips turning up. 

“Really?” He’d never came before while eating someone out, but he’d been so captivated by her sounds and her taste that he couldn’t help but let himself go. 

“Hell yeah, baby.” She placed a hand on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. Their kiss didn’t deepen or lead to anything more than just sweet affection; it was enough to ease all of Harry’s worries away. 

Once they giggled and shared a few kisses, they cleaned up and refreshed themselves for bed. Harry’s ability to make her feel incredibly good had made her forget that she had a flight to catch early in the morning; and it would take her away from Harry for four months. Her sadness and anxiousness had begun to settle once they finally got comfortable under the covers—more so, Harry was comfortable as Luci was anxious. 

Despite the dreamy orgasm, her body was tense against him, and he’d felt it easily. He turned his head to look at her, and her mind was present; she stared up at the ceiling, toying with her fingers as she rolled her foot in circles, her ankles occasionally cracking once they returned to the starting point. 

“Hey,” Harry broke her away from her thoughts; Luci looked up at him. “You okay?” 

She nodded, though he could still sense her unsureness. “Just sad…nervous,” she admitted. 

Harry lowered himself on the bed so he could be leveled to where she was laying. They shared a pillow, which they’d done plenty of times and left no room for the ‘cold side of the pillow.’ But it was intimate and sweet, and a mix of both their scents combined. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” He asked softly. 

Luci took a deep breath before she started. “Everything’s happening so fast, and it’s making me nervous. I-I just don’t want things to completely change.” 

“Nothing’s gonna change, Ci. And if it does, it’ll be for the better. Your career is gonna take off and you’re gonna star in so many amazing films and shows. That’s what you wanted, right?” 

“Yeah…” The one thing on her mind had been bugging her for the past few days, and it drove her up the wall once she thought about it too much. But the only way for her to put her gear into reverse and come down from that wall was to tell him the truth. “I don’t want anything to change between us.” 

If he was being honest, Harry had thought about that quite a bit. Hell, he’d thought about it even before he asked her to be his girlfriend and when they were just friends. He had thought about how when Luci was famous, their relationship and friendship was bound to change. Would they still be together? Would they still be friends? Would she forget about him and forget about their time that was spent together? So many questions had scrambled in his brain that all of the overthinking thoughts felt so familiar to him. 

But he wasn’t going to spew out every single one. 

Instead, he kept an optimistic attitude about their relationship. 

“Nothing’s gonna change, alright? We’re gonna get through this. And if things do change, we’ll work together to adjust to it,” he reassured, although he was unsure himself. He didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire Luci had in her head at the moment because that would only make things worse. Plus, she had a flight to catch early in the morning, and she really needed to rest now. 

His words seemed to calm her mind down, and she was grateful that one of them was stable enough to comfort the other. So, she nodded, taking what he said to heart. They were gonna get through this, and she put her whole faith on them. 

She murmured a ‘thank you,’ feeling too tired to talk any more as it seemed her head had exhausted her. She got comfortable next to Harry, tucked away in his side as her fists huddled up the material of his sweater, wrinkling the area. Harry rubbed her back, soothing his girlfriend for a little before hearing snores, thankful that she was able to sleep with no trouble. 

He lied awake in a complete daze as the only thing on his mind was Luci and how amazing she was without the complete knowledge that their relationship was definitely going to change. 

It had been two weeks since Luci left for California, and Harry had never felt more alone in his life, not even during the times before he met Luci. He knew it would only get better with time, but he’d gone months talking and seeing her almost everyday until this moment. 

She made sure to text him whenever she got the chance to, which he was relieved about. Her texts had always provided a sense of comfort and happiness to him whenever he saw her name on his phone. Each greeting was filled with excitement and longing. Whenever it just so happened that Harry was busy and Luci was available, she’d text him ‘I miss you,’ along with other types of messages that practically begged Harry to get a glance at his phone to see who was blowing up his phone. 

Their new long-distance relationship was unfamiliar as neither of them had ever been in one before. It was unspoken how they handled it, besides from the basic ‘call or text me when you get the chance.’ However they knew they’d face the problem head-on together. 

“Alright, everyone, hope you all have a great and safe weekend!” Harry announced once the loud bell rang before them. “Make sure to catch up on all your readings, please. You know who you are,” he said in a teasing tone. 

He sat down in his black chair that swiveled and reclined, great for his back; a few of his students had asked him a few questions about their essays once he sat down, which he was happy to help and glad to see that they were using their time to ask him questions. He said ‘goodbye’ to the last student who was exiting his classroom and wished him a ‘happy Friday.’ 

Pulling out his phone from the top drawer of his desk, he smiled as his phone lit up, seeing a message from Luci that was sent thirty minutes ago. 

Finished with table reading :) Might go for some drinks with the cast. Hope class is doing well! 

Quickly, he typed back. His fingers seemed to take over, hoping she’d see his message before she puts her phone down for another few hours. 

Hi, baby. Just finished with class and gonna head home in a bit. Are you up for a call later tonight? No worries if you can’t and you’re out. x 

Harry set his phone down once he didn’t see the bubble pop up as he looked at their message thread for two minutes. He figured he could get some grading done and impute the student’s grades into the system so he could distract himself and make use of his time. 

Every five minutes, he would pick up his phone, and once he saw that there was no text from Luci, he’d put it face down and get back to work. He did that for the next two hours, and ended up staying until four, grading papers and constantly checking his phone. 

A knock on his classroom door had made him whip his head towards it, finding his colleague standing in the doorframe. 

“Not going home any time soon?” Carina, one of the math teachers, crossed her arms and smiled a bit. She was one of the first teachers Harry had made friends with and one of the closest in the school. She’d been working at the middle school for three years and had introduced Harry to the staff once he started teaching. Harry had to admit, he had the slightest bit of crush on Carina as her red hair and green eyes seemed to attract him. 

They hung out a few times, mostly inside one of their classrooms during lunch. Harry even developed the tiniest crush on her, only because Carina was a new person in his life and she was quite nice. 

There had been one Friday where Harry invited her to his apartment, and they popped a bottle of wine and talked and drank. She was nice, Harry thought. But the wine had gotten the best of both of them and they soon found their lips pressed against one another. Harry thought it was nice to kiss someone, but as Carina pulled his hair and stuck her tongue into his mouth, he realized that his crush for her had disappeared instead of heightening as it was supposed to. So, he stopped her by pulling back, explaining that they couldn’t do that anymore and that he was sorry. He truly didn’t want to lead her on. Luckily, she was understanding and told him that she was going to head home. 

But to his surprise on her way out, they ran into Luci who was just unlocking her door from a night out. On the inside, he was freaking out because his new neighbor had caught him red-handed—the neighbor he thought was incredibly beautiful. And he found himself completely drawn to her, pushing his feelings for Carina out of his body and welcoming the new profound feelings he had for his neighbor. 

“Uh, I’m not sure yet,” he answered. 

“Okay, well, since it’s still early, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out?” She asked confidently. Carina had always been quite confident and was a people person. Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t so much a talker when it came to new people; it really depended on that person’s vibe. 

He weighed his options in his head. He so badly wanted to talk to Luci tonight, or whenever he got the chance, and he was afraid that whenever she did text back, he’d be hanging out with Carina and not giving her his undivided attention because he hated being on his phone when hanging out with someone. 

“Uh, maybe next time? Sorry, I’ve been-”

“No, it’s okay. I get it, you don’t have to explain. Have a good weekend, Harry.” She smiled, although he could sense the defeat from rejection inside before she walked down the hall and away from his classroom. 

Harry felt bad, honestly. He didn’t like disappointing people or making them feel like what Carina probably felt. But he just hoped that his rejection still made them friends because he wasn’t really close to anyone in the teaching staff. 

A big yawn took over him for a moment as he stretched his back and arms into the air before he decided it was time to go home. He hadn’t had much plans after Luci left, seeing as most of his plans for the weekend involved her, and he hoped that he could at least hear a snippet of her voice tonight to help fill the void of her presence. 

But when Harry got into bed at eleven at night, he’d lost hope, and would try again tomorrow. It was minutes of tossing and turning, not finding the right position for his liking. So, he accepted his discomfort and laid on his stomach, arms and legs spread across the mattress. After a few moments of lying in silence, his phone began to vibrate against his bedside table. He looked at his phone that was face down on the wooden table, the slightest bit of light shining from the edges. Sighing, he decided to take a look at who might be calling him, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Luci’s contact picture and name plastered all over the screen. 

Quickly, he pressed the green button to answer. “Hello?” 

“Harry!” She said loudly against the speaker phone. He could hear chatter around her and utensils hitting the glass plates, so he assumed she was at a restaurant. 

“Hi, love. How are you?” 

“I’m good.” She dragged the word ‘good’ out, giggling at the end of it. Luci had been drinking for a few hours now, casually sipping her drink that was barely enough to get her fully drunk as everyone was talking amongst themselves and eating. But one of her cast members had bought continuous rounds of tequila shots, so she was now to the point of drunk—tripping over her step, finding everything funny, and wanting to talk to her boyfriend. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you more, love. I’m so happy I get to speak to you, even if it’s just for a moment,” he said honestly. He truly believed that not talking to Luci up until he slept at night was the reason why he was up, completely sleepless. 

“Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back…” she said softly as she stood in the middle of the hallway of the restaurant that led to the restrooms. 

“No worries. I’m glad you’re having a great time, though. That’s all that matters to me is that you’re happy.” His genuinity made her eyes full with tears. She wasn’t usually someone one who cried when she was drunk, but just hearing Harry’s voice and not being physically next to him made her emotional. Sue her. 

“I am having a great time. Just wish you were here.” 

“Me too.” 

“Miss everything about you.” 

Harry smiled, laying on his back with one of his arms propped behind his head. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm. Missed your hugs, your kisses, your eyes, your lips. Swear, they’re the best lips I’ve ever kissed.” Her voice was low, not wanting the people who passed her to hear what she was saying for Harry only 

He couldn’t help but blush at her flirting. Even over the phone and on the other side of the country, she still managed to make him blush while his heart flipped. 

“Well, now you’re just flattering me, baby.” His accented voice that was crackled through the phone had sent a chill down her spine, making her bite her lip as she leaned against the wall. 

“I’m being serious!” She exclaimed, talking over the loud clatter of plates and glasses as the restaurant was cleaning up for closing. 

“What else do you miss about me?” Now, he was just teasing. It stroked his ego to hear her tell him everything she’d missed about him; it made him feel good inside. 

“Missed…” she paused for a moment as she was unsure if she should say such a thing in public. 

“C’mon, tell me, Ci,” he encouraged. His tone was pleading, and if she were right in front of him and not across the country, he’d be on his knees in front of her just by how he presented his words. 

“Missed you between my legs.” She curled his lips into her bite, preventing herself from biting her lip as she might accidentally seduce someone that passed by. 

Harry smirked. “Yeah? What do you miss about that?” He heard her sigh, and he knew that she was trapped under his spell that he’d miraculously casted from New York. With that certain memory, he constantly thought about it. The sounds she made. The way she tasted. How she felt in his hold. It made sure she was tattooed in his mind. 

“Missed how you made me feel good; how your mouth and fingers felt inside of me.” Her voice itself was enough to get Harry’s cock to twitch inside of his sweatpants as it was extra raspy because she was trying her hardest to keep her volume at a low level. Now, she couldn’t stop confessing everything she missed about him, and who was Harry to tell her to stop? “I miss the way you would lick me, how you would tease me a little even though it drove me insane. I missed the way your hair felt between my fingers, and when you would moan because I pulled at them roughly. I, especially, miss the way you made yourself feel good and how you came just from seeing me come. That was my favorite part of that night.”

She crossed one of her legs over the other as she squeezed her thighs together. Her words had given her blinks of flashbacks from their last night together; and oh, how she so badly wanted to make that moment last. Harry was fully hard underneath his pants, and he tried his hardest not to relieve the straining pain. 

“Fuck, baby. You have no idea how much I miss you.” 

“Promise me you’ll show me once we’re together again,” she demanded, and a smug smile appeared on his face. 

“That’s definitely a promise, Luciana.” 

There he goes again with her full name, Luci thought. Before she was about to respond, she saw the group get up from their chairs from her peripheral view. 

“I’m looking forward to it, baby. I-I gotta go.” Their chat had sobered her up just a tad bit, and the wetness of her panties had slightly woken her up, wishing Harry was there to take care of her. 

“Alright, love. Get back safely, please, and text me when you get back to the house,” he requested softly, not necessarily wanting to know her every location but to know if she’s safe. 

“Will do. I…adore you.” 

Harry smiled. “I adore you so much more.” 

With that, they hung up. Luci said goodbye to her coworkers before getting into an Uber to Thea’s home, where she would be staying for the time being; and Harry relieved himself by touching and making his hard-on go away with the thought of Luci in his head and how she tasted, which made him realized that he was going to need another taste of her so she wouldn’t disappear on his tongue, 

After three weeks of rehearsals and getting to know each cast member and crew on set, Luci was exhausted. Ocean’s Eight was mostly going to be filmed in LA, where the production had a set built, but she anticipated the two to three days where she gets to be in New York to film in the Met Museum. So, being in the same state as Harry only excited her further. 

It hadn’t even been a month yet nor had they even begun shooting for the film, but getting through table reading, rehearsals, and an entire run-through of how the movie was going to be filmed was taking a toll on her physical health. She felt like she hadn’t slept properly, or had gotten a good amount of sleep ever since she left New York; and mentally, she was missing her family and Harry. 

Her family had always made sure to check in with her to see how she was doing because just like Luci, they shared the same excitement for the first movie she was acting in and missed her dearly. She continued to make contact with Harry, but it wasn’t as much as she would like to. Work had been so busy for her that whenever they started to have a decent conversation other than the usual ‘hi’ and ‘how are you?’, her break would be over and she would have to walk away from her phone, which was the closest she’d been to Harry in three weeks. 

It was almost five in the evening on a Wednesday night when everyone had wrapped up for the day. Sighs of relief were heard through everyone as they all knew that rehearsals were over and sometime within the next few days, they were going to start shooting. 

Luci packed up her belongings, taking an extra water bottle for the road before she said goodbye to everyone and headed out of the studio. It was a chilly evening as the soft winds brushed past her while she quickly made her way to her car that she’d rented out. The white Honda Civic keeping her safe on the roads of Hollywood was nothing like the subways of New York, but it was a nice change since she hadn’t driven in a while. One thing she absolutely hated about driving in LA was the traffic and the aggressive drivers in said traffic; and all Luci could do was groan, saying that they weren’t going nowhere with that kind of traffic. It’s always the Prius drivers who’re reckless, she thought. 

Just as she was about to get inside the car, one of the producers, Jane, had called out for her, catching her before she drove away. 

“Hey, Jane. What’s up?” Luci rolled down her window. 

Jane took a deep breath, catching her breath. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. This is the new schedule for next week with all the scenes that are scheduled for each day. You’ll start filming in a week, so you have a small break. So, you’ll come back here for a few days to film a few scenes as needed, and then, we’ll be off to New York, and back here again.” She explained. 

With her eyes wide, Luci took the freshly printed schedule that had a calendar outline until the end of April. Jane had highlighted her scenes, in which she’d have to go on set, and it seemed like she was booked until April. 

They talked a bit more about some scenes, and Jane let her know that she may need to be on set even if she wasn’t filming but her actual start date for shooting was a week from now. They bid each other ‘goodbye’ as Jane told her that she’d see her next week, and Luci had a surge of happiness rush through her as she headed back to her temporary home for the next few months. 

Unlocking the front door, Luci stepped into the dark hallway as she immediately kicked off her shoes and hung her coat in the closet right across the front door. She quietly tiptoed to her room down the hall, her feet covered in fuzzy brown socks that padded along the wooden floor as she made her way straight to the bathroom to shower off the long day she had. The scalding hot water hit her skin as she washed her scalp and used her coconut-cream body scrub that she’d been using for years, lathering up the suds and spreading it on her skin. 

Once she finished in the bathroom, she headed over to her bedroom, pulling the soft pink comforter back before she laid down on the mattress as a breath of relief took over. She shifted towards the left side of the bed, towards the figure that was sleeping on her side; the familiar scent engulfed her senses. 

She pressed her chest against his back, wrapping her arm around his waist as she placed a soft kiss to his neck that was exposed from his t-shirt. Her worries had washed away once she took him in her arms; the amount of comfort she found was astonishing, but she was grateful for that comfort. 

He shifted and turned around in her arms, making her pull back a little bit as to not wake him from his slumber. He was now face-to-face with her, eyes closed as his eyelashes fanned out against the top of his soft cheekbones while soft breaths puffed out of his mouth. Carefully, she pushed back his floppy hair that had landed in his face, and she admired more of his beauty. 

After a few moments, he moved once more but this time he felt a pair of arms around him, making him jolt as a way to wake himself up. Luci stared at him with an amusing smile on her face as she watched him wake up to realize that she was in front of him. 

Blinking a few times, his vision cleared and what he saw struck him—he felt like he was dreaming, though he's not complaining if this was a dream. 

“Luci?” 

“Hi, Harry.” She responded, a smile plastered on her face as her eyes glossed, from what he could see in the dark room. 

“W-What are you doing here?” He leaned against his elbow, slightly sitting up to fully wake himself, testing to see if this really was a dream. 

“Came to see you.” Luci simply stated, brushing the side of head. Harry’s eyes were droopy, confused, and still sleepy. 

“But…how-”

“Shh, we’ll talk when we wake up again, okay? It’s, like, five in the morning.” Harry had no energy to protest, but he also didn’t want to sleep because if this was an actual dream, and the next time he woke up again and Luci wasn’t holding him, then he would be very sad and disappointed. 

As the minutes passed by, the two found themselves laying together and looking at one another; neither of them spoke a word as they basked in the silence and beauty and elegance they found in each other. The moonlight hanging far up in the sky and the distant lights from the city as a few people were getting an early start of their day was seeping through the curtains of the small window in Luci’s bedroom. 

And this moment, dream or not, they held each other tight as they let exhaustion and sleep take over them. 

The next time he woke up, Harry woke up in a frantic, gasping for air as his lungs shook him awake, begging to breathe. He looked over at the window, seeing that it wasn’t dark anymore but it was bright out in the cold and blue atmosphere. Recollecting his dream, he turned his head to the space beside him but there was no one next to him; the sheets were wrinkled and cold as he must’ve shifted around a lot in his sleep. 

The time read 10:23 a.m on the bedside table. There was a moment of panic because it was a school day, but he remembered that he took the day off and called a substitute teacher in advance. 

Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, grabbing the large glass of water on the bedside table before chugging the entire thing to fulfill his thirst. He walked to the kitchen to grab some more water until he saw his girlfriend in a wrinkled Whitney Houston tour t-shirt and some sweats as she flipped a pancake on the stove. Luci was swaying her hips, humming a tune, and Harry realized that she had earphones in, so she hadn’t heard him walk in. He stood still for a moment, wondering if this was another dream, but he wanted to act upon his thoughts where he would attack her with hugs and kisses, but disappointment would seep through him once he realized it actually was a dream. 

But this wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t blissfully in his slumber, dreaming about his girlfriend. This was very real. The sharp sting of his fingers pinching his arm had reddened his fragile skin; he purposely bumped his elbow against the wall, hitting his funny bone as he bent down in hysterical pain; he gently slapped himself a few times until he realized this was all real. 

Finally, the corners of his lips turned up as he walked to stand behind Luci. He placed the glass on the counter in front of her, making her jump as she turned around, pressing her lower back against the edge of the white countertop. She took out her earphones, setting them aside as she smiled, finally getting the chance to properly greet Harry. 

“You’re here,” he said, bewildered at the thought. He turned the dial of the stove off before placing his hands on the edge of the counter, trapping her in his arms. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Thought I said ‘hi’ to you when I got here, no?” She tilted her head as she looked up at him, running her hands up and down his arms; goosebumps enraptured on his skin. “Happy birthday,” she greeted; he thanked her, though he had almost forgotten it was his birthday. He hadn’t even checked his phone since he’d woken up as he was sure there would be plenty of texts from Anne, who was most likely getting emotional that her baby was getting older; and Gemma, who was having a blast that was turning twenty-eight since he always teased her for getting older. But the first thing he did was find Luci. “Oh, and happy one month.” 

“How…” 

Luci chuckled because he still seemed to have the same reaction when she’d arrived. “I was informed that I don’t start filming until next week. So, last night, right after rehearsals, I booked a flight out here to see you on my time off, just in time for your birthday.”

“Wow, I…” Harry was speechless. “If I’m being honest, I thought that was a dream. I was sad to see you weren’t in bed when I woke up.” He pouted dramatically. 

Luci chuckled. “I’m sorry about that. For the new few days, I’ll make sure to stay a little longer until you wake up. Speaking of, I’m glad to see you made use of my spare key.” She raised her brows teasingly. 

When she left three weeks ago, she’d given Harry a spare key to her place just in case anything happened, so he would have access to it. She also told him that he was allowed any time in her apartment whenever he felt like it, so a couple of times a week, he would let himself into her place and sleep in her bed. Her scent that was displayed all over the pillows and the entire apartment had brought him some sort of comfort, but her sweet fragrance couldn’t compare to her presence where he could wrap his arms around her body instead of a pillow and her comforter. 

Harry smiled bashfully. “Well, you did say…” 

“I know what I said, and I don’t mind it. I think it’s really adorable that you sleep here sometimes.” Luci pulled the sides of his t-shirt, bringing him forward so he was closer. “Now, can I get a proper kiss hello? I’ve missed you.” 

He smirked, pressing his front against her before he took her face in the palms of his hands, leaning down as Luci tiptoed, they placed a loving and tender kiss to each other’s lips. Neither of them knew how they'd gone so long without the other’s touch because once they kissed each other, they couldn’t stop. 

Everything seemed to align when they felt each other’s touch; the day seemed to get brighter, the birds chirped louder like they were singing a tune, and their admiration was stronger than ever. Every emotion and word was told through their kiss, and it was a kiss of longing and yearning.  The pure desperation to compensate for the time that wasn’t spent kissing; a kiss that simply said ‘I missed you. Please don’t let me go this long without your lips.’ 

Matching swollen lips and a flustered state that was plastered on their faces seemed to be the theme of Luci and Harry’s reunion as they pulled back to catch some air. Harry quickly took her lips into his again before he bit down on her bottom lip, pulling back slightly, making a throaty moan escape from her, which ultimately caused Harry’s cock to bloat up. 

“You can get more than just a kiss ‘hello.’” Harry muttered against her; Luci inhaled sharply. “I did promise you a little something once we were together again, right?” He challenged, a smug smile emerged on his face. His thumb caressed her cheeks, and she wrapped her hands around his wrists. 

“You did.” She confirmed. “But it is your birthday, so I think I should take over today, no?” Her voice and words were doing everything right to his body. He felt every single word she spoke, and her sultry voice was going to be a broken record in his mind every single day. All he did was nod, not trusting his ability to speak. “Words, Harry, I need your words.” She’d said his words that he used when they were last together, when it was him who made her feel good. 

“Yeah, take over, baby. Please.” He was completely under her spell, physically and mentally luring into her. Luci reached up to give him a brief kiss before she pulled his arm, leading him to her bedroom. 

The back of thighs hit the edge of the bed, and she gently pushed at his chest so his back landed right in the middle of the mattress. She climbed onto the bed, legs astride his thighs as she began to kiss his neck, leaving a small hickey on his skin that he would admire until it faded. Playing with the hem of his shirt, she pulled away, giving him a devious smirk. 

“Can I touch you?” She asked, looking so intently in his eyes. 

He nodded. “Please.” His dreams and fantasy were coming to life as his mind had been filled with Luci’s body and touch when his nights were extra lonely. He didn’t need to fulfill himself with the minor satisfaction when Luci was prepared to do that for him as she lifted his shirt up, exposing his tattooed torso to her sight. 

Harry took off his shirt, throwing it onto the floor before watching her become so immersed with his body. The permanent ink fascinated her, and she delicately touched the tattoos that were exposed to her eyes like it was a prized possession. Leaning down, she planted a kiss to the swallows on his collarbones, trailing down to the butterfly that was plastered on his stomach; Harry’s breath hitched as he felt himself get hard underneath her. She then licked down to his lower abdomen, where his happy trail lied between two ferns; and she opened her mouth and nibbled on the skin in between his laurel tattoos, making Harry internally groan at her tasteful teasing. 

Running her fingers along the hem of his sweatpants, she asked him if she could take them off, to which he breathlessly responded: “Yes, please. Take everything off.” 

His cock rested on his stomach while Luci took in his large size. Her mouth practically salivated at him; and she was eager to get him in her mouth, to get him inside of her. But she wanted to take her time to appreciate and admire his endeavours. 

“You’re beautiful, Harry,” she complimented genuinely. Harry looked down at her, and just as he was about to thank her, her tongue licked the base to the tip of his needy cock, earning a loud exhale from him. 

She slipped the head of his cock into her mouth, sucking and tasting the pre-come that had spilled out of the tip, swirling her tongue all around. Harry moaned, throwing his head back onto the mattress as he gripped the sheets harshly, wrinkling in his hands. 

Luci took him into her mouth further, holding back the urge to gag. She breathed through her nose as she bobbed her head up and down while raking her fingernails on his torso, increasing and adding to the sensation. 

“Fuck, Ci.” He breathed out, panting. The slightest bit of embarrassment took over him for a moment because he felt like he was on the edge of an orgasm; it had been way too long since he’d felt another person’s touch, another person’s mouth on him. 

Pulling him out of her mouth, a string of saliva followed as it connected to her bottom lip and the middle of his cock. “Like that, hmm?” She asked, batting her eyelashes at him flirtingly. 

“You have no idea…” he trailed off, burying his hands into her hair. He didn’t mean to rush her into blowing him again—all he wanted to do was touch her, and the closest thing was her head—but Luci took that as a sign to continue her movements again. 

“Fuck my mouth.” She requested. Harry’s eyes widened, not expecting to hear that from her; but everyday, she surprised him. “Please. Want you in the back of my throat.” She was trying her hardest to take him further than she would like, but she couldn’t quite reach that point. “Think you deserve that, birthday boy.” 

Harry inhaled sharply, containing his demeanor as a smirk landed on his mouth as he sat up, sitting on his knees. Luci’s feet were planted on the floor as her upper body was laying flat on the mattress 

He leaned down so his mouth was next to her ear as he whispered, “Best birthday ever,” before giving her a quick kiss. Luci placed his dick back into her mouth, wrapping her lips around his tip as she waited for him to take over. Harry tangled his fingers into her hair before slowly bucking his hips forward as he slid into her mouth. Placing her hands on the back of his thighs, she pushed him further, urging him that he could go faster; Harry complied. 

Harry felt like he was on top of the world, like nothing else mattered except for this moment right here. It was like he was in between the soft clouds that could be matched for the blanket and mattress underneath him; like he was looking down at the nature and beauty of the world conform to the beauty of Luci below him; like he was screaming at the top of his lungs his secrets for the world to hear, which corresponded to the filthy words he was spewing out and his loud moans that filled the room up; and it was like the world was screaming back at him, which was a wild Luci moaning around him, sending vibrations up his body. 

He was feeling everything all at once. 

And he fucking loved it. 

When he pulled back to check on his girlfriend, she gasped for air. She had tears in her eyes—a few had streamed down her face—her lips were swollen, and her hair was a mess—and Harry absolutely loved it. Luci kissed up his body, meeting his lips as she gave him an eager and sloppy kiss. Their mouths connected, and he tasted himself on her tongue with the side of Luci. The best flavor ever. 

“Want you so bad.” Harry managed to say between the heated kisses. 

“Have at me.” She moved past him, laying down on the bed before she quickly stripped her clothes off, throwing it onto the floor where it landed next to Harry’s clothes. 

“You sure? Thought you wanted to take over?” He smirked teasingly. 

“Unless you wanna take over, I’m very sure.” She reached into her bedside drawer to grab a condom—an unopened pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. “Mind if we use lube? I know I’m pretty wet, but I don’t know if I’m that wet, and I want you inside of me already and I want it to feel good for the both of us.” 

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need to feel comfortable, feel free to do it.” He kissed her reassuringly before smirking, wondering how long she’d been waiting for this moment. 

He grabbed the foil packet, and rolled it onto his aching cock that was begging for a release. Grabbing the water-based lube, he squirted some of it onto his hand and rubbed it on his length before running his hand up and down her slit, and to her sensitive nub as he circled his finger, making her mewl. He settled in between her legs, placing his arms near her shoulders as he hovered over her, kissing her sweetly. 

Asking her once more if she wanted to push through with it, she gave her consent, grabbing his dick before lining it up with her entrance. Harry slowly pushed in as Luci gasped at his size; he was stretching her out so well that tears pricked her eyes, the overwhelming invasion of his girth and length had made her pant. 

Once he was fully in, Luci looked down in between them, seeing he was balls-deep inside of her; they both moaned in unison. 

“Baby…you’re so big.” She squeezed around him, causing Harry to hiss, gripping her hips tightly. “Move, please. Need to feel you.” She couldn’t count the amount of times she’d dreamed and fantasized this moment; her fingers and her vibrator weren’t cutting it anymore. 

He began to thrust; her arousal lubricated his dick even more as he smoothly slipped in and out of her. Leaning down, he took her breasts into his mouth, licking and sucking as his hand fondled the other before switching. Luci slipped her hand in between their bodies, touching and rubbing her throbbing clit; Harry smiled at the sight. 

“You look so fucking pretty touching yourself, Ci. Making yourself feel good?” She nodded, closing her eyes as she threw her head back. “Am I making you feel good?” Harry’s thrusts began to quicken as his hips slammed against the back of her thighs. “Tell me.” An urgent praise needed to fill him, and her filthy words needed to be spoken. 

“So good, H. Fuck…” she continued rubbing at her swollen nub as the tip of Harry’s cock brushed against her g-spot. “There. Right there. Please, don’t stop. You’re so fucking good.” She cried out into the air as he continued his movements, sweetly hitting her special spot. Unexpectedly, she grabbed one of his hands and wrapped it around her throat, covering his large with hers as they squeezed her neck together. 

Harry felt like he could come right there and then at the sight of their hands wrapped around her neck. He felt her squeeze around him once more, making him groan. 

“Pretty girl, Luciana. Can’t get enough.” Even in her filthy state, she still managed to get shy at his words, making him chuckle. “Don’t go shy on me now, baby. I’m fucking you, and now is the time you get shy?” He squeezed his thumb a little bit more into her skin, feeling her pulse point that was quickly pounding hard. He took his other hand and rubbed at her clit since she stopped due to all the sensations she was feeling at once. Luci began to involuntarily buck her hips, moaning louder than ever. “C’mon, Ci, give it to me.” 

After a few more thrusts, a few more rubs, and a few more squeezes, she came so intensely that she saw stars. Part of it was because she was lightheaded, but her orgasm had washed over so powerfully that her body began to slightly convulse. Harry came into the condom a few moments after as a raspy groan filled the air. 

Once they calmed down, Harry gently pulled out of her, taking off and throwing the condom away in the trash before he laid down beside Luci. He pulled her exhausted body to his chest, and they laid there for a moment, regaining their energy back before they could greet one another. 

Luci was the first one to break the silence. “Happy birthday.” 

“Thank you, baby. Happy one month.” He brushed her hair out of her face, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Happy one month. So many more to go.” 

Harry smiled at her words. He felt a certain reassurance once she’d said that, like he wasn’t the only one feeling the intense and quick feelings that laid between them and their relationship because he truly felt like their relationship was for the long-haul, and she felt the exact same way—no matter if they’d only just started dating. 

So many more to go. 

“I have your gift,” Luci said, detangling herself from his arms. They’d been cuddling for the past twenty minutes, talking about random things that came to mind. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” Harry sat up against the headboard as she opened her luggage, pulling out an burnt-orange knitted sweater. 

“I should’ve wrapped it, sorry, but…” she handed the folded sweater to him. “Happy birthday.” 

“This is so cute! I love it.” His fingers touched the soft material, observing the details and the stitching. “Thank you so much.” He held her hand, gently pulling at it so he could place a kiss to her lips. 

“I’m glad. I’ve been knitting it since October, and finally got the chance to finish.” Harry’s eyes widened as he felt his heart swoon at the fact that she was doing something entirely sweet and thoughtful for him before they were even dating. 

“I truly love it. Thank you, Ci. Your talents continue to surprise me.” Luci smiled, nodding her head as she thanked him. Looking at him with bright eyes, she saw the world within him. She was so insanely lucky that Harry was her boyfriend, the guy that she met the day she moved in; a certain fondness fell over her. 

For Harry’s birthday and their one month celebration, he wanted to take Luci to his favorite Chinese restaurant called Tasty Plates, two blocks away—the restaurant that he bought food from for Luci’s birthday. He wore the sweater Luci gifted and made for him since he was quite excited to wear it one of his girlfriend’s creations. 

Upon entering, Luci noticed a very friendly atmosphere as the employees chatted with their customers as if they’d known one another for years, which they probably had. The smell of fresh and authentic Chinese food filled her senses, and she could already feel how home-y this place was. 

The restaurant was a self-seated restaurant, so Harry led her to one of the tables next to the wall that had frames upon frames of pictures and signatures of famous celebrities, athletes, and chefs that had the privilege of visiting the restaurant. 

“You’re gonna be up there one day.” Harry interrupted the intent observing that she was doing to the wall. 

“Hmm. You think so?” 

Harry nodded his head as if it was the most overt belief. “Absolutely. Being on this wall is, like, equivalent to having a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I already know they’re gonna have a picture frame bigger than all the others because they’d want everyone to see your picture.” 

Luci smiled, appreciating the sweet compliment as she reached across the glass table and held his hand. They chatted for a bit before one of the waitresses, who was also the owner, had taken their order. Kai, greeted Harry with a wide smile, glad that he was able to visit their restaurant. Harry introduced Luci to Kai, to which he earned a teasing expression from her; Kai practically knew almost every detail of Harry’s love life since the day he entered the restaurant, and Harry really didn’t mind—Kai provided him with some of her wiseful advice on relationships since she’d been in plenty of them in her time; but a piece of advice that really stuck to him was when she said ‘You’ll meet hundreds of people as you grow older, but you’ll know when you’ve met the right person. And if there’s anything that I’ve learned, it’s that when you have that person, don’t let them go because you’re going to regret it.’ Kai was speaking from personal terms, and she proceeded to tell Harry the story of when she met her husband, the co-owner of the restaurant, and how they went years without talking and loving, which were the most difficult years she’d ever went through. 

And Harry carried that advice everywhere he went. 

Kai brought out their food in a record-breaking time, saying that since Harry was her special customer, he got special treatment at the restaurant. The three joked around, laughing and teasing before Kai left their table, allowing them to eat. Luci excitedly told Harry everything about work—her cast members, famous actors and actresses along with producers that she’d met on set, and her upcoming schedule. She was glad to have someone to share this information with, aside from her family, and just the thought of telling Harry everything excited her. 

“I’m pretty booked until the end of April…” she mentioned. 

Harry looked down at his food before looking back up at her. He noticed a certain look that she carried, and it was a look of guilt. He placed his chopsticks on top of his bowl of rice before he grabbed her unoccupied hand, holding and caressing her skin. 

“Talk to me,” he said softly. He didn’t want to assume what she was thinking; he’d rather hear her voice her thoughts. 

“I feel bad, y’know. I mean, we just got together and we’re not even spending time with each other because it’s my fault-”

“Nothing is your fault,” he objected. 

She looked at him sadly. “If you think about it, it kinda is. Harry, we’re spending our one month anniversary when we haven't seen each other in three weeks. What the actual fuck is that?” 

“Well, I know you’re not going to quit the movie; plus, I wouldn’t let you.” He pauses for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows, mouth turning into frown as if a realization had just hit him. “Unless this was a mistake-” 

“No!” She shook her head, and Harry immediately felt bad because she looked like she was about to cry. “This will never be a mistake. One of the best choices I’ve ever made when I asked you out.” She reassured him. “It’s just…we’re supposed to be in the honeymoon stage, y’know? How could we do that when I’m always working and on the other side of the country?” 

Harry understood, he really did; and he didn’t know the way to answer her question since he didn’t know the answer himself, but he tried his best and said, “Well, then that just means when you come back home, we’ll still live through and be in the honeymoon stage four or five months from now.” And that answer seemed to satisfy her as she smiled, looking down at her lap as her cheeks heated. 

Drifting away from the serious topic, they enjoyed the rest of their lunch by talking and laughing. 

“What’s your mom like?” Luci asked, wanting to everything about him. 

Harry’s heart fluttered. “Her name’s Anne. She’s great—one of the kindest women I’ve ever known.” Luci smiled as she listened to him talk about his mother. “She’s done a lot for me and Gemma, and even though we’re older now, she would do everything and anything for us all over again. That’s just the kind of person she is—selfless, kind, and definitely knows how to crack a joke or two.” He smiled at the memory of when he was a child and how his high-pitched laugh would come out when Anne would joke around. 

“Is that where you get your love for jokes?” 

“Definitely. Can’t say I have better jokes than her or else we’ll have a joke battle.” Luci laughed; she loved listening to him talk about his family. His face lit up every time, and he had a smile that replicated his childhood photos. 

They talked for an hour before the conversations were coming to an end as a comfortable silence was washed over them. Kai brought out custard tarts, which she knew were Harry’s favorite Chinese dessert, that was on the house. They thanked Kai for their wonderful food, service, and for the dessert before Luci paid, tipping extra. 

Kai told Harry that he’d better not be hiding Luci because she really liked her, and hoped that he would bring her back soon. Harry promised, even Luci said that she would visit even when Harry wasn’t with her, which made Kai very happy. 

Back at Harry’s apartment, they ended up cuddling on his couch and eating ice cream together before he turned his body towards Luci and asked, “Can we talk about this morning?” 

Luci turned her head towards him, raising her brows. “You mean when we had sex?” She wondered, and he nodded. So, she put her finished bowl of ice cream on the coffee table in front of them before giving him her full attention. 

“I just wanted to know what you thought of it. Feedback is very much appreciated.” He smirked.

“Are you saying that so I could feed your ego more than I already do?” Luci teased. 

“Maybe…” 

She chuckled. “I liked it a lot. Sex had never felt like that before,” she responded honestly. No matter how many times she had sex before Harry, how many partners she’d slept with, Harry was undeniably the best one; and she thinks it was because he was her boyfriend, but either way, there was this compelling connection between them that had their minds and bodies were on the same page. 

“I agree. But I also wanted to ask if you were open to new ideas in the bedroom. I know that we’ve only had sex once, but I couldn’t help but notice-” 

“That I like being choked?” She took his words right out of his mouth, putting a devious smile on her face as she said them. He nodded, a bashful smile on his face.

“I’m pretty open, yeah. I haven’t tried many things, but there’s a first time for everything. So, I’m up for experimenting and I’d want some of my first times to be with you,” she straightforwardly said. He loved how honest and open she was, and it was just a quality that was going to be added to the long list of why he adored her. 

“I feel the same way.” He smiled. 

“Can I just say, though…I loved it when you talked to me the way you did. It’s really sexy and it makes me feel sexy.” 

Harry smirked. “Noted.” 

For the rest of the night, they talked about things they’d want to try on each other. They had a growing list of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ on things to try in the bedroom, which ranged from being handcuffed, blindfolded, over-stimulating, and mutual masturbation. Luci was open to spitting and slapping if Harry was down to try it, and he told her that was up for trying anything with her, but he answered that he’d love to test out the waters on those two to see if they both liked it. 

It was only going to grow from when they experiment and talk about it again. Their conversation had sparked up a sense of arousal in both of them that they were fretting in their seat and couldn’t keep still. Luci noticed him grow hard in his trousers, so she straddled his lap, and asked him to take her to bed, which he wasn’t going to say no to. 

He watched as she rode him to oblivion, throwing her head back as her tits glistened with sweat despite the cold weather on the first of February. Harry then ate her out, burying his tongue in between her folds. At first, he denied her orgasm, telling her that he’d allow her to let go once he gave her permission to because he wasn’t quite finished with licking her up. Luci was whiny as she cried out into the room, gripping his curls the hardest her strength would allow her. And when he gave her permission, she came on his tongue, his face, and his chest, wetting the sheets below her; and Harry swore it was the filthiest but hottest thing he’d ever seen. Their breaths were heavy, making the room even warmer than it already was with all the tension and passion that swirled through the air. 

After they regained their energy back, they went a few more rounds until they were absolutely exhausted. And they both knew they were going to be incredibly sore the next morning, maybe even the next few days; but they say that the best kind of sore is when you’re finished with a workout, so Harry and Luci both categorized their rounds as the best cardio. 

April 27, 2018 

Cheers and claps were spread all around as the director called out the final cut to the final scene of the film. It had been a long and tiring process, but a wave of proudness and relief was felt throughout the entire studio. 

Luci felt relieved she was finished with this project while still feeling a bittersweet rush of emotions. This was her first ever major film that she was a part of, and she felt nothing short of proud of herself at how hard she worked to get to where she was. But the journey wasn’t over yet as she couldn’t wait to start her next one, and where that adventure would take her. 

Harry was all she could think about. She couldn’t wait to finally go home to him for a while and not have to worry about anything. They only saw each other for one and a half days at the beginning of March when she was filming in New York before she had to fly back to California, but one and a half days were better than nothing.  

She hugged the crew and cast as a big smile stayed on her face for the remainder of the time she was on set. Everyone took pictures with one another after the cast had changed out of their wardrobe and costumes while the production crew was cleaning everything up. 

Thea and Samantha arrived on set once filming was over to congratulate Luci. They hugged and took a few pictures, which was now going to be a tradition after Luci was done with a project. After everyone had settled down, the adrenaline ceased a bit, Luci headed back to her trailer with Thea. Before she could enter, Thea pulled her to the side to introduce Luci to a journalist who was waiting for them by the side of her trailer. 

“Hi, Luciana. My name is Audrey.” They shook hands as Luci politely introduced herself and greeted the interviewer. 

“Audrey is just going to interview you, is that okay?” Thea asked, and Luci nodded, seeing as it was for harmless promo. She was a bit nervous because this interview was probably for an important media outlet, and it was her very first one too. 

Throughout the months, Luci had gone through media training since Thea mentioned that it was necessary and inevitable since she was now in the spotlight, so public appearances and special interviews were required for her to go through that training. Her media coach told her the basics: to be herself—people love to see true and raw personality to a celebrity; have interesting stories to tell upon asking because people will ask, and be passionate because the media loves to pick up on nitty gritty details about one’s appearance and attitude, which will cause them to flip the switch completely. 

The entire process had overwhelmed her a bit as later that night, she called Harry in tears as she explained the training to him as he tried to comfort her through the phone from across the country. 

He assured her that everyone was going to love her because she had a loveable and approachable persona to her that it would be difficult to not love her; Harry had almost slipped his three words that were lingering on his tongue to further prove his point, but he stopped himself, not wanting to say them over the phone. 

Thea let herself into the trailer, leaving the two to begin the interview. 

“Okay, do you mind if I record you?” Audrey asked, looking down at her phone, making Luci trail her eyes down to the voice memos app where Audrey’s thumb hovered over the record button. 

“No.” She shook her head, and Audrey pressed the red button. 

“So, Luciana, I was informed this was your very first major film project. How do you feel about it?” Audrey questioned in a professional interviewer voice. 

“I-I feel very honored to be working in this film with so many people that I’ve watched on the screen growing up. This film has such an amazing crew and cast that it felt like family; and I learned so many things from this entire journey, so I’m very appreciative and grateful to be part of this.” She may have rambled a bit, but it was a solid and genuine answer. 

“Who are your inspirations that you look up to while being part of this business?” 

Luci thought for a moment, gathering the actors and actresses that popped in her head. “To name a few: Meryl Streep, Sandra Bullock—I had the honor of working with here—and Cillian Murphy, to name a few. I’ve also really loved and was always inspired by Giulia Stone. I loved all of the movies she did in the seventies, and she’s just so iconic and a legend that I will always admire.”

Audrey then asked about her upbringing—where the new and potential star grew up, and her past job on Broadway. 

“Broadway was also a dream of mine when growing up, and the atmosphere was insane. I loved every minute of it, and I left the building with so much adrenaline and energy every night because the audience was always so wonderful.” 

They then talked about her role for Miss Saigon, and Luci was reminiscent of her part before she stepped into the world that was filled with well-known actors and a big industry. In a way, she missed the Broadway universe, and for the first month of shooting for the film, she considered quitting and going back to Broadway as she felt like she wasn’t fit enough to be part of the job, but she pushed herself through (with the help of Harry and her family). She believed everything happened for a reason, and perhaps her time on Broadway was limited to what she’d expected because the film industry was calling her name. 

“Last question to wrap it up.” Audrey chuckled. “Do you have a lover? Anyone special out there that has your heart? These questions will be asked frequently, so might as well get used to them now.” The curiosity poured through the interviewer’s body, and portrayed in her exterior as her eyes bulged, lips curled in as her hand moved her phone closer to Luci, making sure to get her answer on record crystal clear with no chance to mumble or hide her answer. Luci didn’t like how she said the last sentence, like it was an obvious question to ask. 

For some prideful and egotistical reason, Luci didn’t want to fill her satisfaction, to fill the media’s curiosity in hopes to feed people the latest gossip and the inaccurate news. Sure, Luci wasn’t a big name, people barely looked twice at the mention of her name, but something inside of her didn’t want everyone to know what her personal or love life looked like; frankly because it wasn’t any of their business. 

Confidently, she subtly leaned her head a little closer to the speaker of Audrey’s phone before answering, “No, I don’t.” 

Audrey pressed the red button again to stop recording, and Luci would later on know that she made a big mistake saying that.

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, favorite moments and scenes! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be up next saturday!

[lmc-writer]

Don’t Be In Love: Chapter 37 1/2

To be read after Chapter 37:

“You’re wearing the shoes I bought you, princess,” he said against her lips with a smirk. Adelaide was prepared to snipe back, but Dorian’s thumb slipped under her dress, the material now covering his hand, making her lose her train of thought. Adelaide could feel the heat gathering under her dress, deciding to wrap her legs around his torso, needing him closer. 

Dorian got the message, removing his hand from her hair and her thigh, placing both on her ass to bring her toward him. Adelaide let out a breath, the feeling of his hips and assertive hands hitting her with a wave of emotion.His hands took their opportunity to hold onto her ass, the cold metal of his rings acting as stamps, marking their territory on her skin through the material of her dress that no longer felt thin enough. Adelaide almost mistook him for a gentleman for not pulling the dress over her hips, to remove any barrier between their skin. 

The mistake made her lightheaded as Dorian removed a hand to place it in between her legs, his thumb playing with the edge of her underwear. The touch made her kiss him harder, pulling his body closer. The pad of his thumb brushing the skin of her inner thigh, the tip of his finger grazing her. Adelaide tried to hold out on his teasing, suppressing a moan, but instinct drove her hips forward, trying to reach his hand.

She couldn’t handle his taunting anymore, in between kisses she pressed demandingly, “Dorian.” Urging one of her heels wrapped around his waist into his leg, she almost expected him to wince at the pain. But like a gift for saying his name, his thumb moved the lace of her underwear to the side with an irritating slowness, slipping a finger in. Adelaide felt her body relax and tense all at once, her body welcoming his touch. Relaxing from the euphoric feeling and tensing from the amount of pleasure she had never felt before, and the person who was giving it to her. 

Her lips parted, “Dorian,” his name coming out as a moan between their joining lips. “Fuck,” he responded in a low voice. Between the sound of his name coming out her soft lips and the wetness that covered his fingers, she could feel him unraveling as much as she was. His hand tightened on her ass, evidently turned on by her wetness, his lips holding onto hers longer.His actions sped up as he slipped another finger in, causing Adelaide to run her hands through his hair, whispering his name in a flurry of satisfaction. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Dorian murmured against her lips, his fingers finding a slow rhythm. 

She couldn’t explain the amount of pleasure she was not only getting from his swift movements beneath her dress, but the satisfaction he was getting from pleasing her. She had never felt so much admiration and desire from, and for, a man before. But everyone wanted him, wanted to be touched by him. Yet here she was. It was as if women were gifts and Adelaide was Dorian’s gold rush. She could feel the fondness beneath his touch. Adelaide moved her hands from his hair to his shirt, eager to feel the strength and beauty beneath the material, unbuttoning his shirt one by one. 

Her fingers grazed the area above his belt as she undid the last button, his lips leaving hers for a moment to react to the small touch. An emptiness hit her body as he removed his fingers to slip the rest of the shirt off. He didn’t hesitate to close the space between them, despite the beautiful, and brief, view she got of his tattoos, tan skin, and toned torso, before he was kissing her again. Sliding two fingers in without a second thought caused her body to tighten around him, his other hand holding the back of her head.

Her long hair wrapped around his fingers and rings, trying to hold onto him like roots of ivy. Her hands ran over the curves of his abs, trying to memorize every smooth feature for her next dream. His full lips, soft hair, strong arms made her head spin, and her body weak and awake all at the same time. Rolling her hips to meet his rhythm caused them both to release moans. 

“Jesus Christ, Addy,” Dorian groaned in response, briefly running his thumb over her bundle of nerves, making her gasp.

Her dress somehow still covered the heaven that was Dorian’s hand, feeling heavy against her warm skin. Unable to bear the material separating her from him, she pushed the strap of the thin dress off her shoulder. Reaching for his hand that was in her hair, she moved it to her shoulder to slip the dress off the rest of the way. Adelaide could feel the heat pooling around his fingers at the idea alone of Dorian slipping her dress off. But his hand paused on her arm, his fingers—    

Dorian pulled away, leaving them both breathless, their chests rising and falling in unison. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever bought a birthday gift for,” Dorian said unexpectedly, his voice sounding raw, as if he had lost his voice. Adelaide pressed her legs together at the loss of warmth, looking at him confused. Did she miss something he said? Scanning his face, the beat of her heart began to slow. She could only imagine what she looked like as she swept Dorian’s appearance; his lips swollen and red as Dior lip gloss, his curled hair pushed back from Adelaide’s domineering grasp, and his shirt on the floor.Her heart clenched at his words, they sounded innocent and vulnerable despite the ungodly, yet heavenly, way he was just touching her. She felt stuck, unsure of how to react. 

Her first response was to tell him no, to turn him down, to convince him that he was wrong. But as she stared back at him, his full attention on her, anything but regret on his face for what they just did, she felt content. The arch of his brows and the distance he created between them made her think he was nervous, making her want to pull him back in.A knock sounded at the door, both their heads turning toward the noise in a daze. 

Dorian cleared his throat, “One moment!”

Instead of looking for her answer, he placed his hands on the sides of her head, brushing her hair down. Moving down to her thighs, fixing the bottom of the dress so it covered her legs. He was worried about her, trying to make sure she was comfortable. 

Placing his hands out, she took both, hopping off the counter in her heels. Leaning down, he grabbed his shirt.

Dorian spoke as he effortlessly buttoned the shirt back up, “Come back to my place—”Adelaide began to decline, knowing that was something she would have to turn down, despite her emotions moments ago. Dorian shook his head.

“It won’t take long. I just want to give you your gift.”