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sugaryplum · 11 months

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the tale of sugar cookies

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader summary: about how your procrastination got you a first date and a night spent in hogwarts’ kitchen. warnings: language mistakes, lots of cuteness, i made some hogwarts–related stuff up AND I’M SO SORRY TO ALL THE BRITISH PEOPLE. the name “cookies” just fits better. notes: first piece of the autumn(ish) collection, prompt here being baking together. i’m happy with the premise of this fic, i think it’s super cute. i’m a major procrastinator, currently supposed to be studying for the exam i have in a few days so i very much resonate. and i could really eat a sugar cookie right now yum yum

your knee is bouncing. it’s stupid, really. consequences of some of your dumb choices catching up with you. you’re desperately in need of help, but now you try to focus on theo, who’s heading towards your library table.

he says “hi, y/n.” as he sits down next to you and you chuckle faintly. “i get a whole hi? you sound particularly excited to see me.” he rolls his eyes and smiles ever–so–slightly. “don’t acknowledge it or i’ll go back to just nodding.”

you two are in something. you don’t exactly know what it is and can’t pinpoint when it started, but it’s definitely something more than just study buddies, acquaintances or even friends. you’re a people person by nature, you’ve had so many friends over the years, but this, this is different. this is butterflies and hearts all around. this is overhearing his roommates talk about you, calling you “nott’s girl”. you can’t help but blush at even the thought of it.

today however, neither the boy sitting next to you, nor the essay you’re supposed to be finishing with him are the things on your mind.

“alright, you have to stop this.” after fifteen minutes of your mindless writing, theodore’s hand lands on your knee gently. the touch makes your heart go a bit faster. “you will bounce your knee into oblivion.”

“i’m not sure if oblivion takes in bouncing knees.”

he doesn’t acknowledge your poor attempt at a joke and just looks at you. it's the kind of expression that makes you want to tell him everything immediately. so you do.

“you’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“most things you say are a bit ridiculous, didn’t stop you before.”

your problem is fairly simple. you’re supposed to have one hundred sugar cookies in your dorm by halloween. that’s in two days. so far, there are no sugar cookies in your dorm and you want to drown in your sea of procrastination.

theo’s brows furrow. “one hundred?”

“it’s a hufflepuff thing. i’m sure you’ve heard of it.” you sigh, when he looks clueless. “every halloween we give first–years the opportunity to go trick or treating around all the dorms of older students. so the older students such as myself need to have treats prepared for each kid. most of the people just buy some sweets from hogsmeade but i thought it would make an excellent idea to make them myself. i got all the ingredients and stuff but never got around to do it, because the amount is overwhelming. and now halloween is so soon and i have nothing.” you’re almost breathless when you finish your rant, ready to take his scolding. what came upon you when you decided to do this? you had a whole month to go to honeydukes and buy some candies instead.

he’s quiet for a couple of seconds, looking at you the way he always does. a hint of excitement appears in his eyes, as if he got an idea. “i could help you.”

“what?”

“you heard me. tonight you need to finish this essay.” he looks down at your parchment with only the first few sentences and random doodles all around them. “but tomorrow we can do this. bring the ingredients and we’ll meet up in the kitchen. i end practice six thirty, we could start at seven.”

“you think we can make one hundred in one go?”

“nothing i can’t do.”

“that’s not true. but i’ll go with it this time.” you smile. it means a lot to you. not even the act itself, but the fact that he, of all people offered to help you. theo isn’t exactly a person who expresses his feelings easily, he’s not like you. and he definitely is not a person you could imagine in the kitchen, baking cookies for first–years. you thank him and hope he doesn’t notice the red on your cheeks. as expected, he doesn’t answer with anything but his eyes. you go back to the homework, calmer and happier.

time passes and you start feeling sleepy. you tell theo you’re going and you pack up your bag. when you stand up to leave, you hear his voice again.

“so tomorrow? kitchen? seven?”

you smile.

“it’s a date.”

you’re meant to turn around, but once you realize what you said, you freeze and your expression changes. your eyes stare at him for an excruciatingly long second, petrified. but all he does is shrug his shoulders slightly.

“yeah.” not even looking at you. he reacts as if you sky is blue. you can’t help a smile forming on your lips that only turns more beaming when you turn around and he can’t see your face. it’s a date. damn.

being a hufflepuff has it’s perks. one of them is constant access to the kitchen, accessible through the back of the common room. there were so many times throughout the years when you skipped the normal hogwarts’ dinner to cook something homely. or countless moments stumbling there in the middle of the night to make hot chocolate. you thanked helga everytime when you, or your friends got to taste the goodness you prepared.

today you’re also thankful. it’s almost seven in the evening and you’re giggling, seeing as theo is struggling to put on an apron.

“here, i’ll help you.” you tie it and step back, looking proud of your work. “you look like a professional.”

“i am a professional.”

“have you ever actually baked anything?”

“...no. but isn’t it just a couple of–” he moves his wind a few times to demonstrate what he means and you chuckle. he has no idea what he signed up for. “this will be fun.”

you put your arms on the table. “we’re doing this without magic. it’s better like that. tastier.”

he’s not talking for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something. “you’re joking. it’s one hundred cookies. how is a normal, sane person supposed to bake it all in one night, muggle style?”

“that’s exactly what i need your help for.”

“this is a trick, you’re tricking me.”

“not a trick, just my undying charm that caused you to worry about me so much, that you offered me help and now we’re gonna spend the evening baking cookies. you might actually learn something from it, it’ll be good for you.”

“cruel woman.” he shakes his head, but comes up to you anyway, getting a pinch of sugar into his mouth. you give him a scolding look and take away the sugar bowl.

“i’m gonna show you how to make the dough. it’s simple and we need a lot of it, for six whole batches.” his eyes follow you around the kitchen, when you take out ingredients from the shelves. “we need to mix everything together. first, butter and sugar. then flour.” you start mixing things in a big bowl with a spatula, stealing a few glances at the boy in front of you. he’s smiling.

four batches of cookies later, fifth one in the oven, theo really gets into it. at first he seemed skeptical, but now you can see the care in his eyes, when he adds the flour to the bowl, making sure he doesn’t spill anything.

“look at you! doing so well, you might end up as a cookie maker after a–” before you get to finish the sentence, he gets some flour in his hand and throws it all on your face.” when you open your eyes, you see a small grin on his face. “you look like a ghost.”

you talke a big breath and exhale slowly. then you steal the flour from behind his body, ready to fight back. “you are not getting away with this!”

a sweet war starts between you two. each of you fire your shots. all you can do is laugh, there’s powdered sugar on your nose, cheeks and lips. you feel like a small child, so carefree and innocent.

laughter distracts you from the situation you’re in. theo is holding you by the wrists, preventing your hands, armed with a spatula of dough, from rubbing the mass into his face. your eyes open to meet his and in one moment you both turn quiet. you might be delusional, but this seems like perfect time for a kiss.

his lips crash into yours so suddenly, that you barely get the chance to register that it’s actually happening. when he backs away after a second, you pull him in once again, this time him much more confidently.

„you taste like sugar.” you whisper against his lips.

„i wonder why.” he whispers back and kisses you again, and again.

you like the softness on his cheeks when you touch them, and way his hands wrap around your waist. you stay like this for a moment, closer than ever before, until you’re brought back to reality by the oven alarm. sugar cookies. you pat his shoulder and run to get the baking tray.

when you turn back to him, he’s still leaning his lower back on the table, looking at you, smirking. you pretend like you’re not extremely flustered and point to the bowl he never finished mixing. „work, theo! this dough won’t mix itself!”

he quickly grabs the spatula again, saluting to her with it. „yes, chef!”

you giggle. „i don’t think it works like that in cookie shops.”

„yes, chef.” he murmurs quietly, glancing again, as if to see how you react.

you roll your eyes, smile and look away, feeling your cheeks getting hot. your face hurts from all the smiling, but with the smell of sugar cookies and theodore’s eyes on your back, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to stop any time soon.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fluff #theo nott fluff #theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

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bitbybitwrites · 3 months

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OK . . am a day late . . . but not much has been done around here, bc I was struggling to finish the latest chapter of Puppy Love. (my RWRB WIP).

But here's what I got for you - snippets from a couple of ficlet fridays I'm working on (one RWRB, one Klaine) that are going to really be a wee bit longer than what I share here and a snippet of the next chapter of my Klaine WIP - If I Can Make Your Heart My Home . . all under the cut.

Also, by the way, many thanks to the following folks who tagged me for this and six/several/seven sentence sunday these past few weeks - you are all awesome!:

@alasse9 @daisyishedwig @onthewaytosomewhere, @thesleepyskipper @forabeatofadrum

@sophie1973 @wordsofhoneydew @porcelainmortal @taste-thewaste @blueeyedgrlwrites

@annepi-blog @duchessdepolignaca03 @softboynick @thinkof-england

And if I forgot anyone I'm sorry!

1.) From If I Can Make Your Heart My Home (Klaine fic)

“Yes, Bradford. I’m curious as well. What are you doing here?” Four heads whipped around quickly to focus on Lillian, her face inscrutable, watching them all from a few feet away. Bradford Anderson stepped through the doorway, forcing Cooper to back away reluctantly and frowning as he did so. Cooper sidled closer to Blaine who had a similar expression on his face. Bradford leaned down to kiss Lillian on the cheek. “Aren’t I allowed to come see my own mother - or even my sons?” Lillian’s mouth pursed as she debated her reply. “I did think you and Pamela were spending the holiday season in south of France this year. You can’t blame me for being surprised at this impromptu visit.” Bradford shrugged as he removed his wool overcoat and held it out wordlessly towards his sons. Blaine tentatively took it from his father. Cooper quickly tore it from Blaine’s hands and tossed it unceremoniously into a nearby chair. “Yes, well, what a lovely day for a family reunion,” Cooper said tightly. “But we were just sitting down with Nan for dinner . . ." “Wonderful,” Bradford said, cutting Cooper off from the rest of his thought. “I think I’ll join you.” And in a display of sheer self-centered obliviousness, Bradford Anderson waltzed out of the foyer and into the direction of the dining room, ignoring the rest of the party gaping at him as he walked by. For a few moments the four remaining in the hallways just stood in silence, unsure exactly what had happened before them. Kurt knew this was bad. Very, very bad. He knew the last person on earth Blaine would have wanted to see right now, besides maybe Kurt, was his father. ‘Perhaps . . .I should go?” Kurt suggested meekly. “I don’t want to interfere with any. . . um, family affairs . . .” he whispered. Lilian sighed deeply as she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in an apparent sign of frustration with her own flesh and blood. “No, Kurt, please stay." she said. "You’ve been kind enough to cook for us and before our surprise guest made his appearance, I was going to ask you to join us. I had just wanted to check with Blaine first. Blaine, sweetheart, what do you want us to do?” Lilian quietly asked. The question however, fell on deaf ears. Blaine was all too focused on staring towards the direction his father disappeared to than listening to his grandmother. Kurt could practically feel the tension radiating off of him. “Squirt?” Cooper gently touched his brother’s arm. “Are you alright?” “Oh yeah, just perfect, “ Blaine muttered bitterly. “Blaine?” Blaine’s head quickly tuned to Kurt, who was nervously was twisting the hem of his apron in his fingers. “I can go, Blaine. I don’t want to make things any more difficult for you than it already is.” “Stay. . .go. It doesn’t matter to me,” Blaine said flatly. “Blaine, I can tell your father to leave," Lillian said softly. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Blaine’s mouth set into a grim line as he squared his shoulders and started walking in the direction of where his father had left. “Let’s just . . .get this over with,” he mumbled loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

*****

2.) Color Me Surprised (RWRB Ficlet Friday)

*I had a fic idea that I had stalled a bit on until I got this Fictlet Friday prompt - so I've decided to combine the two:

“No.” “Yes.” “No, Pez. I think I’d rather eat glass.” Percy cocked a well-groomed eyebrow and regarded his best friend skeptically. “I’m confused. I’d thought you’d be at least a bit interested. It is a rite of passage, especially in this area, no?” Henry sighed as he tipped his head back. “Perhaps, but one I’m not sure I want to partake in.” “Hazza,” Pez chided his childhood friend. “You are young, single and incredibly hot. Why are you not taking advantage on all of this?” He shook his head in confusion. “Stop acting like you're being tarred and feathered. It’s just an extended weekend. You have been cooped up in this office beating yourself up over the writers block you’ve been suffering from. I am giving you a change of scenery, that’s all.” “And I suppose you propose I find my inspiration there?" “We're going to Fire Island. It's like gay Disney World.” Pez elaborated. “I propose there will be many a tight-bodied, ravishing specimen of inspiration to blow not only your writers block out of the water but hopefully your back as well as . ." Pez coughed and tossed in a very pointed look. ". . . well, one could hope. . . other neglected things.” Pez' s rather pointed look was all too familiar to Henry. Henry groaned as he leaned his elbows onto his desk and dropped his head in his hands. Pez smirked. He knew he had won. “There will be vodka involved, won’t there?” Henry said as he mumbled through his fingers. “Of course, my darling. Is there any doubt?”

3.) fire island follies (Klaine Ficlet Friday)

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, San.” Santana looked over at her friend and smirked. “Lookin’ a little green about the gills, Hobbit. You ok?” Blaine took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he clutched his duffle bag close to his chest. The ferry was going through choppy water, and his stomach wasn't faring well at all. No one could blame him; Blaine was from central Ohio and hadn't had much experience being on the open ocean. He opened his mouth to respond, but the moment the boat hit a particularly large wave. The sea vessel bounced so much that Blaine snapped his mouth shut quickly, clapping one hand over it. Santana swore he looked even more pale than he had a minute ago. “Don’t you dare hurl on me, Anderson. I will kill you if you ruin these shoes.” A young couple and their kid moved away from where Blaine and Santana were sitting, looking at the young man warily. Blaine gave them a weak smile and wave before he peered down at Santana's open-toe espadrilles. “Fancy footwear for the beach, don’t you think?” Santana snorted as she wiggled her Burberry-clad foot at Blaine. "I gots to look good for my sweetie.” She leaned over and poked him in the side. He squawked and batted her hand away. “Can you just give me a smile for once and not look like I’m dragging you to your death.” The boat hit another wave and bounced again. “I feel like death,” Blaine said through gritted teeth as his stomach did another somersault. "Just kill me now." “Oh, perk up, sunshine. We're going to Fire Island. It's like gay Disney World."

****

Well there ya go . . am also tagging ( if you are interested in sharing whatever you are working on - writing or otherwise): @spaceorphan18 @datshitrandom @justgleekout @myheartalivewrites @14carrotghoul

@little-escapist @cha-melodius @kirakiwiwrites @caramelcoffeeaddict @almightaylor

@1908jmd @tinyarmedtrex @theprinceandagcd @iboatedhere

@gleefuldarrencrissfan @gleefulpoppet @itsmaybitheway @kurtsascot @mynonah

@esilher @cryscendo @porcelainandthehobbit @hkvoyage @madas-ahatters-world

@sarkyblueeyes

And open tag of course for any one else!

#klaine #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #fic: if i can make your heart my home #fic: fire island follies #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fanfiction #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #percy okonjo #henry fox mountchristen windsor #fic: color me intrigued

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amywritesthings · 9 months

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ownership of mine (4/4)

pairing: kino loy x f!reader ( andor ) word count: 2.2k summary: The Empire has integrated their prison systems, with you as one of the few women now incarcerated at Narkina 5. The unit manager takes you under his wing – but for reasons you didn’t anticipate.

tags: 18+ MINORS DNI! post-narkina arc, peril, presumed character death (he ain't dead gtfo of here), alcohol, angst with a happy ending a/n: this epilogue-ish chapter is dedicated to the wonderful people of next big franchise. without you all, this fic wouldn't have been possible. my many thanks for your laughs and friendship over the last year.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR

welcome to the tenth day of the twelve days of amymas !!

Seven-hundred days.

It would have been seven-hundred entire days since you last stepped foot on solid earth;

Since your last real meal;

Since you made a vow to keep your head low, to serve, so that you could finally see the sun again.

And you were going to see the sun again.

Your sentence was drawing to a close with little incident.

Kino Loy would leave first, and you would follow.

Your new life was right there.

—but then the prison riots happened, and everything went to shit.

The day Cassian Andor arrived at Narkina 5 is still a hazy one.

You recognized the fire in his eyes right away; a death wish walking on two legs.

Cassian wanted out of here the minute he stepped foot in this place.

(Didn’t he know he had to serve his time, keep his head low, and do what he must?)

He became Kino's new problem and, naturally, yours.

Every day after became a blur.

Kino continued to keep order, to remind everyone of the common goal, even with Andor's poison of fighting their way out.

The floor manager still met you with secret touches, longing stares, and whispered promises to meet you at the showers when the unit was busy feeding...

But then something changed.

Veemoss dies. One hundred men on Level Two get fried.

The final domino was the passing of Ulaf.

Something snapped, and that something — that someone — was Kino.

Because Kino Loy wasn't busy keeping order, no.

The opposite:

Kino Loy was readily agreeing to chaos.

Order was an illusion.

The other floors were frying.

No one was getting out of the bottom of this pit.

One way out.

So your Unit banded together and pushed up.

Up, up, until you took the prison for yourselves.

Up, up, until you saw the expanse of a tumultuous sea.

Then down — off the platform, pushed by the other desperate prisoners.

Into the freezing water, where you fought for your lungs to propel you to shore.

Away from Narkina 5.

All without Kino.

You’d lost the fearless leader of Five-Two-D somewhere in the mayhem.

Kino!

The constant of sweaty hands and bustling bare feet made it hard standing still as you shouted his name.

Kino!

A brief moment of relief passes through your body when you see that familiar head of salt and pepper hair.

Your eyes connect. He looks just as worried as you — until he sees that you're safe.

I can’t swim.

You swear you heard it — Kino’s voice, but it's too late.

One burly prisoner knocks straight into you to dive off the platform, knocking you backwards with him.

You lose your footing.

The world is weightless as you fall to the ocean.

Your back collides with the water, leaving you with little choice:

Either you live or you die.

You can't go back for him.

Too many bodies are falling to the depths, and if you don't move, then you may get crushed.

So you choose:

You swim.

You swim and never look back.

SIX MONTHS LATER

It’s freezing at this outpost.

However, it’s better to be freezing in the Outer Rim than living in fear within the inner cities. That would be a surefire way of getting caught by the Empire.

Besides, you don't hate it here. The people are nice. Everyone mostly keeps to themselves.

You've finally seen the sun, eaten hot meals.

You've built a life.

As you enter your favorite dive of a cantina, you’re met with a swirl of artificial warmth. The bar curls at the center of the tiny establishment. A lone singer, a wanted criminal of the Empire herself, croons gently on the makeshift stage at the far right corner. The air reeks of the seasonal ale.

Scharzi, the Iktochi bartender, gives you a sage nod.

You’re welcomed here, even if you don’t usually speak much.

For the longest time, you spoke with no one.

(Paranoia seeped into your very bones.)

After a few weeks, however, you choose to chat with the locals.

It seems like everyone's on the run from the Empire in one way or another. Fugitives with a past and a present, not looking towards much of a future.

Maybe life is simple, dull, in the Outer Rim, but you all agree on one thing:

At least it’s free.

When you sit and shrug off your coat, you give a bland smile to the bartender and hold up a finger: the usual.

They’ve decorated this hole in the wall better than most.

An assortment of winter decorations, lights and strings, line the low ceilings of this place.

It’s cozier with the added lights. Less bleak and depressing.

Scharzi glances at you briefly as his assistant, a small twi’lek — Phia — earning her keep, smiles at you.

Phia is peppy despite her grave interactions with the Empire, scorned and orphaned, but Scharzi has done the best he can to give her shelter and a place to hide.

To be a ghost, like the rest of you.

“Doing anything for the holiday this weekend?” she asks after pushing a goblet of your usual ale to you.

Glancing up at the eager young woman, you shake your head. “Not particularly.”

“Well, we’ll be open our usual hours. I’m sure Charlie and a few others will be coming around,” Phia cheerfully informs.

She cleans up a sticky circle on the counter as a body takes a seat on the stool beside you.

“Then I guess I’ll be here tomorrow, too,” you tell her, scooting on your bar stool to give the stranger some room.

“You better bring your best holiday wish, then.”

“A wish?”

“Yeah, we always do them here.” Phia glances to the man beside you. “What can I get you?”

He waves her off without a word.

(Not uncommon around these parts.)

“Just tell me when you do want something, alright?” she pleasantly tells him, before turning her back to the wall of liquor bottles to rearrange them. “So? What’s your wish?”

You snort, taking another long gulp of your drink.

"My wish?"

"Yeah! Lay it on me. I promise telling doesn't make it not come true."

“It won’t ever come true, so." You sip again, shaking your head. "I don't particularly feel worried about it not happening.”

“Now that I doubt,” Phia counters, sing-song and light. “C'mon. Try me. Hypothetically, what would you make your wish?”

This is stupid.

Then again, so is trying to survive as hard as you have.

There isn’t a point to it, to any of it, yet you live freely out of spite and spite alone.

(The Empire will not win.)

“My wish. I guess I’d wish for… ha, well, I lost someone.”

You trail off before becoming resolute. Certain.

You see him in your mind’s eyes — the way he ducked his chin while sitting on his knees, staring you in the eye with the promise of a better tomorrow.

You earned this.

Your heart clenches.

“He, uh… I think he passed away a few months back. I don’t really know what happened to him. I hope it didn't come to that, but it was unlikely he survived. I think my wish would be getting to see him again, some day.”

The awkwardness of Phia’s stare makes you down the rest of your ale before giving it back.

“Mind topping me off?”

The twi’lek nods solemnly, taking the ale and disappearing around the semi-circle bar to bring you a fresh pint.

His words linger on your tongue, sticking to the roof of your mouth.

You earned this.

Living.

Breathing.

Being.

“Bloody awful wish if you ask me.”

The stranger beside you speaks up.

Their voice is baritone, low with an unmistakable growl.

You almost drop your drink from the shock.

In a flash, you whip your attention to an older man staring back at you: white curls with a growing salt and pepper beard, shorter in height yet twice as intense in the eyes.

His cheeks and nose are reddened by the cold outside.

Maybe Phia laced the ale with something, because you know you’re not drunk.

Maybe you’re tired. Hallucinating.

Or maybe—

“Should spend a wish on something that’s not so easy to come true,” Kino Loy grunts, setting his hands on the bar top as he regards you.

You can’t speak.

Won’t.

You’re too afraid to blink the illusion away.

The older man stares you down, waiting in silence until Phia brings back your second ale.

“Mind giving me what she’s having?” he asks the young barkeep, knowingly making her take a second trip around the other end of the bar to give you space.

"Sure thing! She likes 'em strong, hope that's alright," Phia chirps.

Kino thumbs at his nose. "I'll do my best to handle it."

You haven't stopped staring. You're sure Phia notices your wide-eye gaze.

It doesn't matter, because no matter how much you blink, Kino is still there.

He keeps his chin ducked while he waits to be alone again, before his voice smooths out the edges.

(Just like he always did, when it was only the two of you.)

“Didn’t bring a bloody bouquet of Queen’s Hearts with me, but—”

“How?”

You hate how much of a bark the question is, but the blurt must come before you’re rendered mute.

Kino’s mouth presses to a thin line of regret.

“Is this real?” you whisper, voice dropping to a whisper of uncertainty. “Because I heard—”

“I know.”

“And I saw—”

“I know,” he repeats with a heavy sigh. “It’s more complicated then what we have time for tonight. I’m not here to relive the past, kid. Maybe another night, but not this one.”

Your brain reels with memories you once swallowed so far down they stuck to the pit of your stomach, now threatening to spill here:

Kino Loy, alive and well, at the very Outer Rim city you’ve been hiding in all this time.

“How the hell did you find me?” you quietly reply, absently tightening your grip on the handle of your ale as you process the scent of him.

Faint cologne lingers, new, but it’s still him.

It’s still him.

Kino mumbles a thank you to the twi’lek bartender who then disappears once she hands him the ale, allowing you the illusion of privacy in this cantina.

“...you’re not easy to find, I'll give you that,” he explains, taking a sip of the ale.

His eyes slip close, relishing in its taste, before taking a second, much bigger gulp.

“Had to ask around, but I remember you mentioning this place. Remember you mentioning a couple of places, figured maybe you chose to hide out on one of 'em."

"And you..."

"Went to every single one? Yeah," he supplies. "I’m not one to waste time. Not when we’re living on a borrowed case of it, so I hit up as many places as I could. Finally found you on this one.”

Kino allows a moment to pass, settling his ale back on the bar top, before he leans in.

You don’t move, mesmerized by the way his chest rises and falls under his gray tunic.

Alive.

Alive, alive, alive—

“I told you once that we’d get the hell out of that shitehole, once and for all, and I’d buy you whatever drink fits your fancy at the nearest cantina.”

The man reaches a slow, cautious hand from the table.

Magnetism draws you in, desperate to feel something stable, something warm.

Eventually his palm connected with your cheek and you’re threatened with a surge of emotion.

Same calluses. Same stroke of his thumb.

Simultaneously, you both suck in a sharp breath — two octaves of the same relief.

It’s as though an electric spark flows between you, and you find yourself nuzzling his palm with a longing that’s propelled you for six straight months.

Kino chuckles under his breath at this, only to move in closer.

His other hand cups your face, cradling your head in his reach.

“Sorry I couldn’t find the bloody flowers,” he exhales. “Not exactly welcome at the pearly gates of Naboo, if you could imagine that.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the flowers, Kino,” you inhale, earning another rumbling laugh from the older man.

“No, didn’t think you would.”

When you slip your eyes open, you see him shake his head as if mesmerized by what’s before him.

You stare right back, raising your hands to gently rest against his.

Kino studies your face in the dim lights of the cantina, Adam’s apple bobbing from a thick swallow.

He frowns briefly, as if plagued by a morose thought, before his shoulders droop.

There’s so much to say.

So many doors have closed…

Yet reuniting with the man who taught you to fight to live feels like a fresh start, all the same.

“I’ll take that drink, though,” you murmur, forcing a tired smile to play on your lips.

The former unit manager’s eyes instantly drop to your mouth.

“Whatever you want, love, so long as you’ll have me.”

The smile on your face grows.

He mirrors, huffing and smiling back — only to drag you in for a searing, devastated kiss.

For the first time in years, hope is within the confines of your galaxy.

#kino loy x reader #kino loy x f!reader #kino loy x you #kino loy fanfiction #andor fanfiction #andor fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars fic #kino x you #kino x reader #andor fic #kino loy fanfic #twelve days of amymas

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unlesshouse · 1 year

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More Than Everything

Mother!Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter!reader

Headcanon of what it would be like if Rhaenyra Targaryen were your mother.

A/N: Something cute that I dedicated my whole heart to for you guys, just to make it clear that if there are mistakes in writing, know that I don't speak fluent English, so forgive me for the mistakes below.

Well... enjoy and I really hope you like it!

As Rhaenyra's only girl child, you would be spoiled brats before you were even born.

The news of Rhaenyra's pregnancy was announced at a rare gathering between her family and her father's; Viserys Targaryen.

Viserys's wife, Alicent Hightower, reacted with disdain as for her and her children another child that Rhaenyra carried did not make much difference in their routines.

Rhaenyra didn't care much about her stepmother's reaction, for her, her father's support, her husband's love and her children's sweetness when they learned of the new child's arrival was enough.

When the sex was informed, Rhaenyra Targaryen was infinitely happy because she wanted you to be a girl, in addition to asking the gods that you came into the world healthy and without complications at birth.

Your birth was the longest and most laborious of Rhaenyra's life, she has had a total of five strong, healthy boys but never before has she worked as hard to push them out as she has with you. However, with a lot of effort and tears you were born, kicking and crying as if the world was going to collapse right there you came and in good health.

The woman took her in her arms, feeling the relief of her pain and the happiness of a more than proud mother. Rhaenyra Targaryen had felt the warmth of her little body in her arms and that feeling of joy and love overflowed in her chest, she swore to protect her with her life if necessary.

Her first years as the little princess of the house had been the happiest of her life. Rhaenyra had named you after one of the governesses of the seven states of Westeros; Visenya Targaryen.

You grew up wearing the finest and most beautiful gowns that your father, Daemon Targaryen, bought just for you. She spoiled you as she spoiled her sisters; Rhena and Baela. Daemon hired painters to color his room the richest shades of pink, from rosé to pink. He also insisted on learning how to build a tree house by hand without needing help from a trained employee just to spend time with you, because that was what you asked for with the most pleading eyes of the doe in the world.

Rhaenyra had never seen her husband build something from scratch, coming from a privileged family she never imagined that Daemon could fulfill her tastes and build the tree house exactly as you asked.

When you were six years old, you accompanied your mother when she needed to go shopping. Not that Rhaenyra liked going out to do chores that clearly an employee of her family could do, but she imagined that moments together with you would be marked in her memory forever.

She always dressed you in clothes from the color charts that matched hers. She liked bold, dark colors, like a purple or crimson blaze and tight black skirts. You wore little purple or lilac dresses and when Rhaenyra wore scarlet red you wore strawberry red.

Rhaenyra always thought it was cute the way you asked her for anything, your mother adored you and never denied you anything. At a picnic where Viserys and Otto Hightower agreed to invite the whole family, Viserys' wife didn't hold her tongue and criticized Rhaenyra's misguided parenting "After so many children and you, dear, never learned to be firm and set boundaries Your daughter?" In one simple sentence, what was supposed to be a fun trip turned into a turbulent exchange of barbs between Viserys's wife and his eldest daughter.

Rhaenyra decided to return home ahead of schedule, picking you up in her arms and moving away from the woman who was looking at her with a lot of contempt and coldness in her gaze.

As the years pass and you get older, Rhaenyra worries about your sudden mood swings. After turning sixteen years old, you started to wear shorter and more provocative clothes, go out without permission and come back when you wanted, spend Daemon's unlimited Amex card on useless things and get involved with bad people. "I'll talk to her, Daemon, no need to worry." Rhaenyra reassured the man who was dangling his right knee impatiently and completely irritated by her actions. "You better talk to her, or else I'll have to impose punishments that you and she won't like."

her mother tried to convince her to change, as much as she sees her own adolescence in you, she sees that also imposing limits has to be necessary. Her words were more than reproachful, Rhaenyra wants her well more than anyone else in the world, so she advises her only daughter of the consequences of her actions. "The dragon's blood runs in your veins as it runs in mine, but we are women, our consequences are crueler, the world is crueler to us. Think about this carefully if you don't want to take the worst path."

Rhaenyra lets you see with your own eyes the alternatives you should follow, she is not controlling and wants above all that you make your own decisions on your own. She will guide you to become a strong woman, but she will also allow the credit to be completely hers.

With age, problems that were once trivial are now more complex. There is the college and the path you must take. Rhaenyra will feel before everyone around her that you are different, she is more frustrated, more silent and serious. Her warm smiles at dinner parties are rare now, and she gets it. "Don't worry honey, Visenya is fine, it's just adulthood for everyone." Daemon said in a mocking tone one day when Rhaenyra commented on her recent concern about you, it was a brief conversation but it served as a lesson to her that only she could help her in her own little world.

Rhaenyra asked you out one night, she knocked on your bedroom door as you finished your studies and got ready for bed. "Mom, it's almost nine at night and I'm tired, I've studied all afternoon for exams so I'm going to decline your invitation." You said in a heartbreaking monotone Rhaenyra who sighed in the doorway and smiled sadly at you. "I know you're tired and the exams are close, I also know that you don't know exactly which way to go and if it's going to work to make us proud, but I love you regardless of whether you get into the best college in the country or not. You've never failed me and you never will, we're made to try and persist, fail countless times and that's what makes us human Now please let's dance, drink and think about it later, I promise I'll make this night for you the best of all, sweetheart."

The smile that formed on her lips upon hearing her mother's words was much more than sincere, it was genuine and warm. You loved your mother above all else, that was the only thing on your mind at that moment. "Okay, I will, but we're not staying all night, okay, Mom?" You warned her and she burst out with a hearty laugh at you, the lavender eyes characteristic of her family's ethnicity for generations shining like two amethysts. "It's up to you!"

The night was young and when you saw it, you were dancing next to your mother at the door of the house when she was trying to hit the key hole. "Is it difficult there?" You laughed still swaying as if you were still on the dance floor to make your mother lose her temper and let out a short curse word causing you to burst out laughing. "Come on, let me help you, granny." You scoffed taking the keys from her hands and Rhaenyra patted her shoulder jokingly scolding you laughing at herself too. "Respect me girl, who created you?" Her voice is slurred and you laugh even harder when the door opens. "You, Mommy." You reply still mocking like you did in the past when you spent more time with her.

Rhaenyra was laughing not just because of the alcohol but also because she hadn't felt this happy in months with her.

Days passed and you took the exams to compete for the best university in Westeros, the results came out and you went to check your email being accompanied by your mother, father and two older brothers who were anxiously awaiting the answer. "Well... I PASSED!" you screamed in ecstasy being grabbed tightly by Rhaenyra who lifts you into her arms in a tight bear hug. "I knew I could, how proud I am of you, my dear!" She whimpers and then you return the tight hug feeling all the emotions welling up in you "I love you mom, most of all..."

Not many more words were needed to describe the whirlwind of happy feelings you both felt, she knew you were grateful to her for all the years of companionship, friendship and dedication she had with you in your development, and you knew that she was very proud of whether you passed or not, she loved you unconditionally.

comment if you liked it and leave your like too, thank you so much for reading!

Tag:

#rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #platonic #queen rhaenyra #team black #house targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #platonic!reader

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 3 months

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I was tagged by @typicalopposite (thank you!) for the six (or seven) sentence sunday thingy. And initially, I was I have no wips. But. I'll take this as a chance, because I love nightmares and chronic pain stuff (wow that makes me sound so crazy, right). As I stated this morning, I had another idea that just dried out after 600 words. So, I have no idea where to go with this, but maybe anybody likes it and goes "yeah girl" or adds their super cool idea or something 🥹

It wasn't the dream that had woken him, just a nightmare like many. It was the pain. In the past, Buck would never have believed that you can experience pain in a dream, so fresh and strong as if it wasn't just a memory but had just happened. Now it's just a dull, throbbing pain, nothing like the tons of weight that crushed his bones back then. He's lost the actual memory of the fire truck on his leg, even though he knows exactly what happened, even though he was conscious. But those few minutes are missing from his memory, which is probably why in his dreams, he keeps hurting his leg in different, creative ways. The pain, however, is real, both in his dreams and now.

Tagging @valandhirwriter, @herrmannhalsteadproduction, @ikilledyvette, @gauntermetaverse, @reggiesfilthylittlesecret and whoever sees this and wants to join!

#six sentence sunday #BuckTommy #Bucktommy fanfic #very tiny WIP I have in my WIP folder #and I don't know where it's going

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hells-official-news-paper · 3 months

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Three demons, brought to court alongside the seven demon killers.

Yesterday night the authorities of New York received a beautiful package from a new vigilante in the streets. The man was identified as 'the fallen angel' by demons due to his similarity to the king of hell and former angel Lucifer Morningstar. It has been made known by the angel himself that the one to have caught the seven killers was not in fact him, but a human. It is speculated that the anonymous man may be Samaël Acharand, former HYDRA agent who has expressed his hatred towards this murders and not wanting to 'sit still' in front of them anymore. As for the fate of the seven men wrapped in a beautiful satin ribbon, it is still unknown. Our journalists were present in the station when one of the men spoke about a need for retribution and the six others agreed. They talked about, we quote, "a beautiful blonde woman with the voice of a siren and the eyes of an angel" that gave them angelic weapons and eacha target through the means of a man known as Killgrave. Unfortunately Killgrave was soon found dead, the act having been clearly done by vigilante and demon Karma. When asked about that need of revenge, they spoke each about three demons from the ring of wrath having killed someone close to them. We are waiting on a word from our Queen about whatever shall be done to these demons, found to be rogue demons that didn't accept Archan's crown. Humans ask for them to be treated with human law, which sentences them to an immediate death, each being charged with at least three murders. Demons, however, argue that murder is in a wrath demon's nature, and that this happens every day in hell. The sin of wrath, Satan, asks for the three demons to be treated with his law, as each kind of demon has different natures that push them to be a certain way. We still wait on the supreme court to decide on the demons' fates, as the queen has asked to be heard before anything is decided. The Queen herself has now three days to come to washington D.C and plead for her demon's cases. Everyone wonders if they will finally understand how the many times caught vigilante demons get rid of their fates. However, the queen argues that she has nothing to do with their cases. We hope the deaths of our kind will be treated as they shall be, and that the demons themselves are sentenced how they should be for the murder of multiple humans. - This article was co-written by every journalist

@jessicajonespi @samael-acharand @wilsonfisk-thekingpin @capt-carter-mostly-official @karmas-a-bitch-and-so-am-i

//this might be innacurate at how things are dealt with, but honestly, this is all fantasy so just roll with it//

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gil-shalossssss · 2 years

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And now I shall discuss multilingual cussing. I am going to focus on Reyna, Leo, Nico, and Hazel. Frank is bilingual but he doesn't cuss.

Reyna left Puerto Rico when she was ten, so she probably didn't know many cuss words, if any. Her Spanish curse vocabulary probably stopped there since I imagine Circe's resort spoke primarily English and/or Anchient Greek. She may have learned some Anchient Greek curses there as well as English ones. I belive she uses some Latin curses in the books, so either those are instinctive or she picked them up from her fellow soldiers. Probably both. In conclusion, Reyna can curse in English and Latin, and also possibly Spanish and Anchient Greek.

Nico was six or seven when he left Italy in the forties, so I can't imagine he knows any Italian curse words. Even then, he probably wouldn't have picked up any until he emerged from the Lotus Hotel because he was a child and you didn't curse around children if you could help it, so if he heard any they were never repeated often enough for him to learn them until he was thrust into modern day cussland. However, he also probably picked up some Anchient Greek and Latin curses from the camps. Also we hear him curse in Anchient Greek and English.

Leo grew up with Spanish and English as equals and was never forced out of his Spanish-speaking environment, so he can curse fluently in both languages. He may have picked up some curse words from Camp Half-Blood and the Romans he hung out with, but I imagine it's primarily English and Spanish. He canonically curses, but most of the time it doesnt specify in which language.

Hazel was also a forties child, and even though she doesn't cuss much in the books, we know she can because of that sentence concerning schist. It seems that she prefers placeholders, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have an arsenal of curse words. We know she knows some English curse words and might know some French. Also probably Latin, because even if it's not instinctive these children are soldiers and soldiers cuss a LOT. (Don't attack me about stereotypes, I know this for a fact.) So anyway, for Hazel we have English, Latin, and possibly French.

The reason I think Hazel would know curse words in the forties but Nico wouldn't is because even though they both live in large cities (New Orleans and Washington, D.C.) Nico's family probably would have moved to an already-established Italian community with other Italian people who just wanted to escape the War and go on living as they had in Italy. That doesn't necessarily mean anything in terms of what kinds of people are there, but it does lend to the probability that most of them are Catholic and had enough money to get them across the ocean in the first place (not allowing for stowaways), so they're probably proper people who would never cuss around children. Hazel, on the other hand, is the daughter of a voodoo queen whose clients were basically everybody. Rich people, poor people, scallywags, respectable people, people who didn't fit into any particular category at all. The point of all these words is to say that prior to the Lotus Hotel, Nico led a relatively sheltered life and Hazel lived where all the walks of life converged.

So this has been my incredibly long analysis of what language these people cuss in. Yes, it is something I think about for my own characters and I believe it is worth knowing.

#hoo #pjo #riordanverse #percy jackon and the olympians #nico pjo #nico di angelo #nico #leo valdez #leo pjo #reyna ramirez arellano #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna arellano #reyna pjo #hazel levesque #hazel pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo headcanon #language #multilingual cussing

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its-monster-mash · 2 months

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Graves Moodboard

I made a moodboard and character profile for Graves, one of the main characters of my Horror Romance, Devil in the Details.

Name: William Graves. He went by Billy when he was growing up.

Age: 32

Pronouns: He/him, sometimes We/Us if he's referring to his demon as well.

Species: Demonic Vessel/Demon-possessed human. He was born with a powerful demon attached to his soul.

Personality: Graves has a deceptively sunny personality for a demon-possessed mass murderer. He has a disconnect from reality, and a hugely inflated sense of self-importance on account of being a demonic vessel - he feels "chosen". He doesn't feel like normal humans count as "real" people, since they'll die in "Hell on Earth" anyway. Because of this, Graves is incredibly lonely. He desperately wants to find other demonic vessels, who he considers his people.

Goals: Meet someone like him, and bring about Hell on Earth.

Demon: Valeron, a high ranking demon. Valeron is calm and calculating, in contrast to Graves himself. Against his own ideals, he's come to care for Graves, and behaves almost like a father figure to him - insofar as a demon bent on the world's annihilation can be a father figure.

Powers: Due to his close relationship to his demon, Graves is a master of his demonic abilities. He's got enhanced strength, pain tolerance, and speed. He can also defy gravity in a limited capacity - he can't fly, but he can walk on walls and stand on ceilings. His wounds heal quickly, including being able to regenerate lost limbs, and even organs. He can disappear into shadows, and he has dominion over evil spirits.

Early Life: He grew up in a run down trailer in the woods, with very poor supervision. His mom kept livestock, and he was always too fascinated by the butchering process - his father died when he was very young. At school, he was considered "the weird kid", and other kids paid him to eat bugs and worms. He went by "Billy" back then.

Young Adulthood: He worked for the local butcher in the nearby town, and made a decent life for himself, though he kept on living with his mother to help her care for the livestock. To her, he was a sweet boy who could do no wrong, to the rest of the town, he was considered strange, but harmless. Until he decided to terrorize the town with a killing spree that lasted a month and claimed the lives of twenty-six people before he was caught.

Psychiatric Care: Graves was admitted to a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane at the age of twenty-two. While in the hospital's care, he claimed another forty-three lives, both staff and patient alike, his demonic powers allowing him to escape detection, until he was caught in the act of murder number forty-three. During his stay, his mother passed away, which caused him to get sloppy on his last kill and get caught.

Execution: At twenty-seven years old, William Graves was sentenced to death by the electric chair, however despite being electrocuted multiple times, Graves failed to die on account of his demonic endurance, and he seemed to enjoy the shocks. The public was led to believe that Graves was dead, but he was discreetly transferred to a government testing facility, from which he would ultimately escape.

Home: After escaping the government facility where he was experimented on, Graves made his home in an abandoned prison - Malhurst Penitentiary - where he still resides today, reigning over the many spirits trapped within the walls with demonic authority.

Likes: Gore, Pain, Sweet foods, cooking, music (he likes metal, but he's actually keen on a variety of genres)

Dislikes: Mentions of his mother, food waste

Kinks: He's a sadist, but he's even more of a masochist. He's into bondage, and is a switch. Due to his demonic powers, it takes a great deal to actually cause him any pain - since his sense of touch is so dulled, he registers pain as extremely pleasurable. Due to his regenerative abilities, a good night for him would include tearing his flesh open, amputation of limbs, and broken bones. When he Doms, he's more of a "service Dom", in that he wants his partner helpless, but he wants to bring them unimaginable pleasure. The phrase, "Good Boy" would kill him on the spot.

#horror #horror romance #dark romance #Devil in the Details #mypost #dind graves #Radish fiction #serial fiction #paranormal romance #character profile #character moodboard #oc #original fiction #original character #oc moodboard

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eliteprepsat · 3 months

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Clause (n): a unit of grammatical organization next below the sentence in rank and in traditional grammar said to consist of a subject and predicate. — New Oxford American Dictionary

Search the internet for “run-on sentences” and you’ll likely find examples of long lines (some run-ons, some not) by William Faulkner, Charles Dickens, Lewis Carroll, and other authors famous for their verbosity. Some sites (which will go unnamed) tell you that one of the iconic lines of twentieth-century American literature—the first line of J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye (1951)—is a run-on sentence.

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

This is, indeed, a long sentence—63 words and six commas, to be exact—but it is not a run-on. On the other hand, this sentence is:

Julia likes cats, however, she prefers dogs.

Just seven words and two commas, but a run-on. (By the way, that last line is a fragment, a sentence lacking even one independent clause.)

How is the second sample sentence a run-on if the first is not?

The answer hinges on the definition of a run-on sentence. Contrary to popular belief, run-on sentences are not defined by length or complexity; a 1,000-word sentence could be grammatically correct and a four-word sentence could be a run-on.

A run-on sentence is something far more precise. It’s a sentence that contains two or more independent (aka main) clauses not properly separated. Generally speaking, independent clauses can be separated by a period, a semicolon, a colon, a comma and a conjunction, or a dash (though not all of these solutions work for all sentences).

We might fix the run-on above to read:

Julia likes cats. However, she prefers dogs.

or, more commonly:

Julia likes cats; however, she prefers dogs.

or even better:

Julia likes cats, but she prefers dogs.

The reason why the original “Julia” sentence is a run-on is fairly arcane: a conjunctive adverb like “however” cannot separate two independent clauses. Students preparing for the SAT and ACT should learn how to identify independent clauses, dependent clauses, relative clauses, relative pronouns, conjunctions, subordinators (words that make clauses dependent), and conjunctive adverbs—all terms and ideas that need to be understood in order to master the art of avoiding and fixing run-ons and fragments. This is likely the most important cluster of grammatical issues to master for both tests.

But my purpose here is not to unpack the nuances of these issues (you’ll need to take a class for that). It is simply to note that preparing for the SAT and ACT requires that students begin to see conventional English sentences as things constructed along pretty exacting guidelines. Sentences, like machines, are objects made out of properly connected parts.

Like an automobile, a sentence is made of interlocking units. Just as there are many correct and incorrect ways to build a car, there are countless ways for the parts of a sentence to interlock correctly or not. And just as a good auto-mechanic sees a car for its parts and knows exactly what to do under the hood to fix a mechanical problem, SAT and ACT test-takers need to be able to see sentences as constructed things made of clauses, which need to be connected with the right tools and in the right ways.

This is precisely the kind of thinking at work in Salinger’s opening sentence in The Catcher in the Rye. The sentence is something of a master class in English grammar.

This sentence contains nine clauses total, 7 dependent and 2 independent, all properly separated. A clause consists of, at minimum, a subject and a predicate. I have highlighted only those terms necessary to complete each subject and predicate and italicized all conjunctions used to connect clauses. Things get tricky at the beginning of the second clause, whose subject is “thing” and whose verb is “is,” followed by an entire dependent clause (“where I was born”) that acts as the object of the verb “is.” In this sentence, “you’ll probably want to know” acts as a dependent clause since it is contained within a larger independent clause.

As a whole, a good SAT or ACT grammarian should see this sentence like this:

Dependent clause 1, Independent clause 1 Dependent clause 2 Independent Clause 1 continued Dependent clause 3, and Dependent clause 4, and Dependent clause 5, Dependent clause 6, but Independent clause 2, Dependent clause 7.

We could dig into this complex sentence further by looking at, say, how Salinger subordinates those seven dependent clauses, or by considering how to identify when a clause begins and ends. But, again, the point here is not to explore all these complexities (though that’s an important task for those preparing for the SAT and ACT).

My point is at once much simpler and more challenging: it is to show you that sentences are made of smaller units called clauses, and that there are rules for connecting and separating these units from each other. This is all to say that improving one’s grammar isn’t about memorizing countless rules or running your eyes over countless pages of writing.

It’s first and foremost about changing the way you see sentences—as constructed machines made of individual parts rather than as finished wholes.

#grammar #run-on sentences #English #English class #learning English #writing #writing class #SAT #ACT #test prep

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attentive-dragon · 5 months

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I'll remember it tomorrow

Thinking about that post I commented on, how a great idea will pop into a writer's head, and they might think "I don't have time to write that down today, but I'll remember it tomorrow." I learned the hard way that this way lies regret: I've lost more great story ideas this way. I've cultivated a habit of writing ideas down as soon as I can when I have them. This often means quickly typing something on my phone's notes app right after getting out of the shower, or recording a voice note in the car. It's a terrible feeling to know you had a really clever way of untying a particular Gordian Knot, or a really fun bit of dialogue, and just can't remember it anymore.

This has had some weird impacts on my writing process. I've already spoken elsewhere about how I finished a book (and was about a third of a way through its sequel) when I realized this wouldn't be book one in my series, but would stand as book four (probably.) So already my writing process is out of order. But: it gets worse than that.

I have my entire series planned out, more or less, all the way through an estimated thirteen books. Some of those books I have detailed outlines for. Some I have a couple paragraph summaries. Some just a sentence or two. But the overall arc of the entire series is something I've known for quite awhile, and some of the major events that will happen along the way are things I've already thought up.

So, sometimes my brain will deliver tidbits of those later stories to me, and I have to write them down immediately. Just the other day, a bit of conversation from what will probably be book 12 or 13 popped into my brain, and I had to write it down. I actually really like this little bit of dialogue, and when I finally (hopefully) get that far in my series, I'll be really excited to finally get to use it.

Because of all of this, the writing "progress" on my series is a bit odd. I keep making little side-trips into later books to add things as they come to me, and it means that later books often have a lot more completed than one might expect, considering I have yet to actually publish my first book in the series:

Book one ("The Yellow Earring") is complete, at 71260 words

Book two ("The Silver Sword") is about halfway done with 44427 words

So far, so good. However:

Book three has 27965 words written

Book four (as mentioned above) is complete with 145943 words (and this one obviously still needs much editing.)

Book five has 34846 words written so far

Book six has 6359 words, because I really needed to get a scene written that WOULD NOT LEAVE MY BRAIN ALONE

Book seven has about a thousand words written

Book eight has 6686 words, again, because the first chapter sat down one day in my brain and refused to leave until I acknowledged it.

And of course, the aforementioned short bit of dialogue that will probably go somewhere in a planned book 12 or 13.

There's a part of me that wants to be frustrated about this: after all, if I've written so many thousands of words in later books, couldn't I have better spent my time writing thousands more words in the book I'm currently working on?

I've learned to silence that frustration and embrace the process. One good example of why this works for me is actually in the book I'm currently working on though. I was still working on book one when a really clever idea came to me for something in book two, and I ended up writing an entire scene. It was months before I had finished book one, and gotten book two to the point where my characters finally arrived at that scene, but once they did, I was able to use that previously written scene skeleton as a framework to carry the story forward. If I hadn't written it down at the time, I may not have remembered what I'd wanted to do there, and there's a good chance what I would have written wouldn't have pleased me so much.

Everything I write will get used, eventually. At least, that's my hope. That scene from Book Two finally getting used seems to support this. I just need to trust that my brain knows what it's doing as it doles out these tidbits of story to me out of order - and I also need to make sure I'm making the time to intentionally write in my current book and not letting myself get carried away with things yet to come.

And maybe more importantly, I need to actually focus on the process of getting Book One published. My brain loves these bits of story, the tales they are all a part of, and the characters living within them. I'd like to think some other folks' brains will as well.

#writing #writing process #writing community #writing fantasy #carthian dreams

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sunshineacd · 2 years

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Six/Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @reyesstrand and @marwani-strickland thank you so much, lovelies 💛💛

More from the first son/royal secretary AU

Five minutes later, Carlos finds himself on the back of a horse and he’s riding alongside TK in one of the many fields. It’s gotten a bit warmer since they left the stables but not by much and Carlos still feels the cold bite at the skin that is exposed.

“It sure is peaceful out here.” Carlos says, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

“It is, indeed.” TK agrees. “Sometimes, I like to come out here just to take some time when things get a bit too much. You haven’t quite seen anything until it’s all lit up at night though. Then, it’s a really beautiful sight.”

Carlos believes it and he wants to experience it, honestly. And he surely wouldn’t mind doing it with TK by his side. He quickly shakes the thought from his head. He’s supposed to be keeping himself in line.

“Maybe one night when we’re both free, we can take a walk to see it.” TK says, as if reading Carlos’ mind and it effectively snaps him out of his thoughts. “I mean, if you’d like that.”

“I would,” Carlos admits softly. “However, I don’t want to intrude or take you away from your work. I’m sure it’s more important than showing me around.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” TK says. “The duke and duchess encourage me to have time to myself, especially during the holidays. They always tell me that the last thing that would want me to be is overworked. They don’t understand how difficult that is sometimes.”

“Well, if I am helping you to relax then by all means, I can continue assisting with that.”

TK chuckles. “I appreciate it.”

“I overheard my mom talking about a Christmas Eve gala. Is that something you are involved with?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah, it’s a yearly thing and everyone attends. A charity is picked and all the proceeds made during the event is donated to the charity. It’s actually really fun, although helping to plan it can sometimes be stressful. But, our planning team is amazing and they always make things easier.”

“It’s good to hear that not all your holiday is overtaken by stress.” Carlos says. “Now, I can understand why the duke and duchess are pushing for you to take a step back from your work.”

“Hey, you’re not allowed to take their side on this.”

“I honestly have no choice at this point.” Carlos defends and he mindlessly reaches across the small space between their two horses, placing his hand over TK’s that’s resting on his thigh. “You deserve to have some time for yourself and your family.”

TK looks down at Carlos’ hand on his and for a moment, it’s as if TK may in fact like him back and maybe Carlos no longer has to push his feelings down. But he barely has any time to find out as he startles back, nearly falling off his horse at the sound of a ringtone. He pulls his gaze away from TK as he answers his phone and looks at the horizon.

He takes three deep breaths and tells himself it’s for the best, that it’s not worth it. And he hopes that one day, he’ll believe it.

I think everyone has been tagged, but if you want to do it then by all means, please share <3

#paige writes #tag games

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saintgoths · 2 days

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

CHAPTER SEVEN - ORPHEUS.

WORDS - 5,914.

RATING - 18+ [Serena being nasty, f/f fingering, dry humping, Will being desperate. Canon type violence.]

SUMMARY - Secrets are revealed between Serena and Cersei, and Will finds himself becoming more infatuated with Serena.

"I've tried to fight this, but you are my weakness." Iris by Pastel Ghost.

feedback would be appreciated! and i would like to say, this story is a will romance story, but i just want you to be aware that serena is a man-eater...

i also cross-post this fic on wattpad and ao3.

previous chapter - chapter six.

After a deep breath, Serena looked out of the carriage Thomas rode on, gently directing the carriage to its destination, the wind was soft, but Serena could still hear the low curly whispers with her enriched hearing. All her senses clear aside from her mind.

The time she shared with Will, kissing him, touching him and feeling him had been a permanent stap in her mind, and Serena was unsure if hated it or craved more of him.

However, Serena wasn’t sure if Will had actually liked her, had pondered if he was only sexually infatuated with her. Though, she couldn’t forget the soft hints of his fixation.

With a frown, Serena gently bit her lip. Had she overlooked Will? Had dismissed his signs of affection towards her due to the destructive mask of a personality he usually showed. Nevertheless, the story he revealed to Serena about his sister, Ella, and how he got her killed had been another focus point in her mind.

Now with her arms crossed, Serena had wondered if he exposed himself to other people so they could ease their suspicions of him. Like, Tessa?

Serena then touched her lip.

She wanted more of that kiss. She had wanted more of Will. She had remembered that night when she touched herself with him in her mind. Serena had now been content they had similar dreams of each other.

The carriage had then come to a stop, the halt had caused Serena to snap out of her thoughts, had now focused on Thomas who had now opened the door, she had stared at him, had wondered if she looked like a madwoman.

“You always go to interesting settings,” Thomas said as he helped her down.

Serena smiled, before she comically pointed her nose up. “That’s what happens when you’re popular,” she smiled.

As she made it to the surface, Serena had then pulled out something from one of her pockets Victorian women usually wear, it had been a bracelet. “A gift,” Serena smiled. “For always doing favours for me,” she said and then passed it onto Thomas.

He had quickly taken in, had saw letters on the bracelet and had anticipated to read it. He frowned. “What---vera…cal-e? osfa afri?” He poorly pronounced and as kickback, Serena had laughed before she corrected him.

“Veracale osfa afrae,” she said and Thomas stared at Serena as if she were mad. He knew many languages existed in the world, but he had never heard anything that sounded like that. “It’s a language from where I live---where I used to live,” Serena said. “It’s called bracelet of trust.”

“What language is that from?” Thomas innocently asked and with her arms behind her back, Serena pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I will tell you another day,” Serena said. “But remember, the bracelet is a reminder to trust me,” Serena reminded with a certain look in her eyes. “Trust me when I say, leave this place.”

Quiet, Thomas looked back at her. “The bracelet is beautiful, it has designs I’ve never seen before,” he commented and with a soft tap of his hand, Serena bid him a quiet goodbye as Thomas returned to his seat.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Serena had felt everyone’s eyes turn to her the second she walked into the party, as if they had all sensed her, sensed the different essence and sweetness she carried. A couple of gasps had spread as if they were fallen dominoes, and the sentence ‘Venusian Spirit’ was shared by a couple of the Downworlders who had ogled at her.

Serena hadn’t said anything, yet had taken in what they each said about her. Though, a certain redhead had caught her attention, Angelika. “You’re finally here,” Angelika said in relief, her smile was bright but tight. “People were about to start leaving, calling me a liar.”

“My apologies for my lateness,” Serena said but Angelika bowed her head as she dismissed her tardiness.

“That’s fine,” Angelika responded. “It’s probably culture for Venusians to turn up late to parties,” Angelika joked as she had then motioned Serena to follow her.

The stares didn’t stop, but it didn’t rattle Serena. She was usually looked at. “I feel there is much Vampires here,” Serena said as she stood behind Angelika.

“There are much,” Angelika clarified as she then examined the people around them, almost all of them had behaved like hungry deviants ready to feast. “Much Downworlders are here too, all interested in you. There hasn’t been a Venusian Spirit here in the Mortal Realm since eons ago,” Angelika explained and with a short smile, Serena clasped her hands together. “You’re like a prize to them, someone they want to parade around, feast upon,” Angelika continued fore she looked back at Serena. “Both ways,” she winked as she intertwined her arm with her.

A moment later, a man had appeared in front of them, almost as if he had floated towards their direction. “Serena, meet a good friend of mine, Carlisle Ivanov, from Russia.”

Carlisle had been blonde, almost so blonde his hair appeared white, but it was different to the shade Jem had due to the Yin Fen. Carlisle’s hair almost appeared as bright as a halo, eyes blue as the sea and features perfectly sculpted. He had raised Serena’s hand and kissed the back of it. “You’re more beautiful than Angelika exaggerated you to be.”

“Thank you,” Serena kindly acknowledged.

Carlisle had then moved to look at Angelika. “She’s ravishing,” he pointed.

“Pounce off already,” Angelika joked. “You seem like you want to dig your fangs into her neck.”

Serena twisted her face as the two of the Vampires continued to joke, aware another presence had stepped into the trio, Serena furrowed her eyebrows, she had thought she had recognised this person. “I’ve heard a Venusian Spirit’s blood can be poisonous to Vampires if taken without consent.”

Serena knew exactly who he was, dark hair, dramatic flair, cat-like eyes. This is Magnus Bane.

Confused, Serena silently searched her mind to clarify where she had seen him before.

“Magnus Bane,” he introduced, aware of the confused look Serena had on her face.

With a neutral look, Serena commenced to introduce herself, but he was quicker than her, with a smile, he spoke once more. “Serena Venrosa?” He questioned, though with the tone of his voice, it was barely a question, it was as if he was sure. “Everyone here is speaking about you, sorry for your loss,” he said, and there had been a specific look that flashed in his eyes, as if they were emotions of guilt.

Serena sourly smiled, she had now planned to drown herself with liquor, and as if Angelika had read her mind, the woman gently nudged Serena. “I’ll guide you to them.”

It happened quick, their drinking, there had been a few people that had come across her and spoke to her, touch her, her hair, her skin as if she was an artefact or a part of a Petting Zoo. She didn’t know how to feel about it, but Serena had known that she had wanted to turn her bubbling pain into pleasure. Aware that Angelika had stared down at her, as if she had been exposed meat. Serena’s nose flared at the strength of the drink before she took another sip.

“You’re beautiful,” Angelika said and with a charming smile, Serena had thanked her.

“The drinks here are really strong,” Serena said as she downed another.

“They’re full with aphrodisiac,” Angelika informed and with a bright look on her face, Serena made a noise as things commenced to make sense.

With a side smile, Serena pulled some of her hair to the side. “I am beginning to feel lustful.”

“Lustful enough to kiss me?” Angelika teasingly asked, and with a brief pause, Serena stared at Angelika’s lips.

They were redder than before, as if they had begged for someone’s mouth to kiss them. “Yes,” Serena whispered before she moved to press her mouth against the Vampire’s. Angelika had been quick to moan whilst Serena’s hands hastily travelled around her body, passionate, Angelika had moved her lips to Serena’s skin, kissing the wings of her shoulders and the crook of her neck while she listened to Serena whimpered from her touch.

“You smell so sweet,” Angelika whispered, her tongue possessive as it licked over the area she had yearned to bite into. To fight against her thirst, Angelika moved her fingers to the wetness of Serena’s core, circling and rubbing her tightness.

Carlisle had appeared behind Serena, and with her mouth tucked behind her teeth after she moaned, Serena moved her face close to his as she began to kiss him while Angelika focused on driving Serena to her peak. Carlisle stared into Serena’s eyes. “Can I?” He whispered and without being able to form a sentence, Serena nodded before she gave the man space to dig his teeth into, and he was quick to do so, Serena gasped as she could feel her blood slowly drain from her.

It had felt good, everything had felt so good. Serena had now felt Angelika’s lips go to the other side of her neck and start to suck on her blood. Eyes screwed shut, Serena had felt her body tighten as she was close to her climax. With her arms around Angelika’s figure, she orgasmed, the sweetness of her blood amplified, and with a moan, Angelika pulled her teeth out of Serena, but Carlisle had been stubborn.

“That’s enough,” Serena frowned, and with a gentle nudge, Serena pushed Carlisle away from her.

He wasn’t offended, but Carlisle licked the blood of Serena’s around his lips. “They didn’t lie about Venusian blood,” he smiled and as Serena sat down against the closest chair, she breathed out a laugh.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Serena had been asleep when it had happened, the lashes of her past confusing her, flashes of her younger self looking at herself in the mirror smiling, twisted into a circumstance with her eyes wide, face and hands smeared with blood as she stared at herself with wide eyes. It had all been her fault, hadn’t it?

Confused, Serena looked around as the scene morphed into an occurrence of Magnus Bane with his hand on her head, magic flowing out of his hand as he stared at her with an empty look.

With a big gasp, Serena had woken up, images of her dream slowly being pulled away from her memories, Serena scratched her head.

She had groaned, stroked her neck, aware that the holes had healed, Serena noticed a few alcohol bottles she had taken from Angelika’s party and sighed. She was still wearing her dress, when she returned to the Institute, Serena was so greatly slumped that she fell asleep the second she entered her room and met with her bed.

She had liked the time she shared with Angelika and Carlisle, but had remembered the look in their eyes once they tasted her blood.

Bored, Serena reached for the bottom of her bed and pulled out the book Lord Sapphire had given her. The Book of Aphrodite, had read upon the Venusian Language, and the Ancient Version of tongue, her name Venrosa came from Ancient Venusian, as it had meant ‘Of Rose’.

Her parents taught her some of Ancient Venusian, but it was her brother Vincent who had known it the best, second was Anya, her late sister, intrigued with the language, Serena’s fingers trailed along the lines until a short knock had echoed from her sealed door.

She had sensed it to be Will, and quickly she had pushed the book back under her bed. “Come in,” she said, and slowly, the Herondale boy unlocked her bedroom door. His eyes were dark but there was a bright smile he had on his face as he then spoken to her.

“You’re finally back,” he said and with a confused look on her face, Serena had sat up.

“Is there a reason you came to see me when everyone else is sleeping?” Serena questioned.

Avoidant of her question, Will’s eyes fell to the gown she had still worn, and his eyes softened. He had wanted to tell her how much she looked like a doll. “You’re still in your gown,” Will said as he closed the door behind him.

“Heavy night,” Serena replied and intrigued, Will’s eyebrows raised.

“Party?” He had asked. With a hum, Serena nodded her head. “Who’s? Maybe next time I can accompany you since you’re new to the realm,” he said with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

Serena cursed under her breath. “You still remember that?” She said, referring to the time they saw each other in Myrtle and Doves.

“That’s not something I can easily forget,” Will replied, his tone more serious.

“Right,” Serena sighed and without asking, Will sat on her bed.

“I’d like to know what realm you come from, the culture, the language,” he shared as if he was wishing.

Serena stared at him for a bit, a brief pause shared between them. “One day.”

Awkwardly, Will looked at his fingers, as if a coat of anxiety had draped over him. “I’m sorry for kissing you.”

Serena cocked her head to the side. “Don’t apologise, I liked it,” she smiled and with a sharp glint in his eyes, Will looked at her again.

He was in disbelief. The way she had left, it made him think otherwise. “But the way you left---” he began but Serena sat closer to him and looked into his eyes which had caused him to come to a halt. He had wanted to mention how dreamy her eyes were.

“Have you thought about the proposal Loras has given you?” Will inquired and shocked that she had forgotten, with guilt, Serena frowned.

“Truthfully, no,” she replied as she shook her head. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about Loras at all.”

At ease, Will’s shoulders dropped. “Loras, Davidson and even Lyonel,” Will named. “They all feel passionate about protecting you.”

“Because of what I am, I have people hunting me, it’s why my family died,” Serena reminded as she had then cupped Will’s face, he had been so quiet, compared to his usual state. “I cannot come back to my home because of it, and for now I’ll be here.”

Will leaned against her touch. “Do you have any idea of who is hunting you?”

“I don’t know yet,” Serena truthfully said. “But I will find out, my family’s death will not be in vain.”

Will had then looked around Serena’s room, he had glanced at the paintings, his hand around Serena’s wrist as he steadied her open palm against his face. “Do you like it in this realm?” He asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“I haven’t really gone to explore it,” Serena clarified.

“There’s an excellent café,” Will suggested. “It’s called Benny’s.”

Serena scrunched her nose, she didn’t realise how cute he was. “Thank you, I will check it out soon.”

“Alone?” Will perked, had moved as if he was a golden retriever.

With a smirk, Serena slipped her hand away from his face, and like a shadow, Will’s hand followed hers. “I never said I’ll be going alone,” she winked and Will grinned at her.

“It seemed like you brought the party home with you,” he smiled as he referred to the bottles.

“And what about it?” Serena asked.

With a face, Will stood up straight. “I’m not judging you,” he said. “I want to drink with you,” and relieved, Serena’s body language softened. “I will be coming back,” he said as he quickly got to his feet, and without letting Serena speak, Will hurried out of her bedroom, leaving her shocked.

He had been quick, almost too quick he almost tripped, Serena had laughed. He returned with two glasses for them to drink out of. Before he passed Serena one, Will filled her glass with the wine she had brought back, had gently glanced over the brand she had and looked back at her.

“These drinks are normally found in Downworlder parties,” he said as he passed her the recent filled one. “You went to a Downworlder party?” He questioned, confused with an arched brow, he hadn’t had the intention to judge her for going to their type of parties, he had merely wondered on who invited her.

Defensive, Serena hid her mouth behind her glass. “It was the most fun I’ve ever had compared to being here.”

“Touché,” he hummed as he sat himself down next to her, his glass filled, Will took a sip. “You reveal your powers but you don’t tell what you are. That’s quite annoying,” he said as he leaned on his elbow.

Serena laughed at him. “Well, I don’t because Charlotte told me not to. She told Henry.”

“Then I’m surprised he hasn’t put you in his lab,” Will joked and Serena laughed again. “Are you still reading those Greek Myths?” Will questioned before his eyes twinkled. “Oh, right, Greek Lore,” he corrected himself and with a side-eye, Serena smirked at him. “I’ve been reading the story of Orpheus.”

Surprised, Serena raised both of her eyebrows. “Orpheus?” She repeated. “Suffered great grief over his wife,” she whispered as her eyes then moved to the still wine. “Going to the land of the dead to bring back Eurydice, what a knight.”

Serena bit her lip, her family weren’t properly buried. Serena had pondered if they were stuck on their path to Neptune. Perhaps that was what her dreams had been trying to tell her, that she could bring her all back.

Aware of the pool of thoughts Serena had been in, Will smiled. “Did I just give you an idea?”

“Maybe,” Serena winked as she had then moved her wine glass to her nightstand. “My favourite book is Midas,” she said as she returned to her seat. “Having to be careful what you wish for,” she muttered, avoidant of his gaze, it wasn’t like she had been scared of Will, in truth, his stares were strong.

Surprised, Will tilted his head to the side, his drink had almost been finished and he was tempted to have a refill, thus he did. “I judged to quickly and thought your favourite book would involve Aphrodite’s…since she’s all about beauty…and you’re…” he had then trailed off and with a humoured expression, Serena took her drink again.

“That’s stupid,” she snorted. “The drink is getting to you.”

With a gentle pout, Will’s eyes traced the body of Serena’s. “I do believe you’re beautiful, everyone does,” he said, and gently with his free hand, he played with the fabric of Serena’s dress. “The way everyone looks at you, even the women, like Jessamine,” he listed and Serena scoffed at him as she moved her wine back to the nightstand. “Despite what has happened between the two of you, she looks at you as if you were a new idea…a new inspiration.”

Complimented, Serena’s cheeks became red. If she had known Will was so poetic. “I see your beauty of a Siren,” he said as he then moved his hands to the ringlets of her hair, twirled it between his index and thumb.

“I---Will---”

“Kiss me,” he begged and stunned, Serena stared at him, they had already kissed before, but his inquire for a second one had shocked her. Honestly, Serena didn’t know he’d want to kiss her again, but with the way he had set his cup down and returned his gape towards her, she had saw the look of desperation fill his eyes.

As if he had been a groom waiting for his bride. “Kiss me, Serena,” he begged once more and so she did, she locked her lips with his, her hands against his chest as she gently pulled onto the fabric of his garment. Her eyes had been shut as she had taken him in, unaware that Will’s eyes had been open, watching her kiss him, to see her pretty features twist and soften every other second.

Will shuddered before he closed his eyes, his hands worked against her back as his paws slid into her hair. He had pressed her against her bed and tucked himself between her legs, easily lost within her taste, he hadn’t realised he had pushed himself against her clothed heat, desperate to meld into her and her very own soul. Will had moaned into her mouth, frantic to her touch. “My Aphrodite,” he had moaned as he continued to rub himself against her, one hand weld with hers as the other hand had dug into the materials of the bed sheets.

His brows furrowed at the sound of Serena’s moans, her sweet moans that encouraged him to continue. He had wanted her, so intently he had felt like he was about to lose his mind. “My Aphrodite,” he continued to cry out, his covered cock had throbbed and jerked, the feel of her swollen pearl against his shaft excited him, she had tightly wrapped her legs around his waist and moved her hips in a circular motion, he had felt so good, so good she had wanted him inside of her.

To pound her and take her as his. “Will!” Serena whimpered as she could feel herself crave to climax, addicted, he had cupped her face, thrusted his hips forwards as he could feel his cum leak into his trousers, but he couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to stop, his eyes stared intently down into hers as he could feel a second wave push through as he animalistically humped against her, his moans caught in wild whines as he desperately licked the skin of Serena’s neck, never had he ever wanted to taste someone so much, be in someone, ruin them.

Serena had never thought her night would end up like this, under Will, being defiled by him as he roughly rubbed himself against her, she had been so close, her body had twitched and Will responded to every jerk of her body to a lower kiss down her body, he hadn’t realised he ripped her clothing, and Serena’s mind had been deeply warped with lust to realise the same.

“Will!” She cried out as she cummed against her panties, sensitive as she could feel Will chase for his third climax, and once he did, the two of them pulled away from each other.

Sat up, Serena hugged herself surprised.

“I need to go,” Will said, his eyes wide as he had realised what he had done.

“It’s best to,” Serena whispered and, on his feet, the Will left.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

The next day, Serena had taken Tessa to the café Will had suggested. Serena had wanted to help Tessa take her mind off Nate for the moment, on the other hand, Serena had remembered that Tessa had wanted to spend time with her.

Currently, the two had sat on the outside table of the Benny’s. Serena had noted the unsure look Tessa had on her face, she repeatedly played with her fingers as she spoke up. “I don’t know if it was right for us to leave.”

“Nate will be fine,” Serena sighed. “Relax, Tessa,” she winked and with a brief smile, Tessa had dropped her shoulders.

As the Venrosa woman drank her tea, she tilted her head as she gazed at the other woman. “Besides Nate, how is everything?”

“Jem,” Tessa brought up. “He’s feeling better after what you did,” she smiled, and Serena had noticed that was the first big smile Tessa had displayed today.

After what had happened with Jessamine, Serena took in that Tessa had lost much confidence within herself. “I wish you told me what you were.”

“Time will come,” Serena replied, her eyes now focused on the busy street behind Tessa.

“Will is much happier because of it as well,” Tessa brought up, and unsurprised, Serena raised both of her eyebrows. There was then a brief pause before Tessa questioned Serena. “Do you like Will?”

There was now a long pause, to hide her surprise, Serena pushed a side smile. “Why do you think so?” She played and embarrassed, Tessa shrugged her shoulders.

“I see the way Will looks at you, and sometimes I see you look at him the same way,” Tessa explained, there had been a pout on her face, but Serena was unsure if Tessa liked the idea of Serena and Will having a romantic relationship.

So, she shrugged. “I find many men attractive.”

“But Will,” Tessa pushed, almost as if she was a child begging for something.

Serena flatly smiled. “He can be charming and tolerable when he’s not spewing crap.”

Tessa laughed---the two women continued to speak to one another before they were approached by someone. it had been a Warlock---was what Serena easily identified. They had barely looked Tessa’s way, their eyes stuck on Serena as if she had been someone who stepped out of a picture. “It’s nice to see you again,” the Warlock said, and confused, Tessa looked at Serena who had appeared like she had tried to figure out who had been speaking to her.

The Warlock was a light blue woman with eyes of a frog, they had dark hair that they didn’t tie up, and even if how they looked was against Victorian etiquette, Serena had thought that their unique appearance suited them very well.

“You didn’t speak to me the other night, but I’m Arodine,” they introduced. “It was a nice show you put on at Angelika’s birthday,” she said and with narrowed eyes, Tessa had taken in the subtle information.

“Thank you,” Serena said, nervous that Arodine would speak about what she had done with Angelika and Carlisle.

On one hand, it had seemed like Arodine knew what Serena had been thinking with the smirk she had on her face. “Say, I have a party next month,” she said as she passed Serena an invitation card. ‘I would like for you to come, you as a Venusian Spirit attract many people.”

Serena tightly smiled; she could feel Tessa’s stare steep deeper into her skin. “And Carlisle wants to see you again, obviously he cannot tell you because the Sun is out.”

“Oh, Serena hummed as she played with the edges of the invitation card.

Before Arodine left, she had gently bowed to Serena as she was then gone, Tessa’s eyes were immediately filled with shock. “Downworlders?” Tessa breathed out and with furrowed eyebrows, Serena leaned back on the chair she had sat on.

“They’re more fun,” Serena shrugged with a dismissive look.

“What is a Venusian Spirit?” Tessa questioned and Serena gently breathed in, she wasn’t surprised Tessa would catch and hold onto what Arodine had said.

“It’s what I am,” Serena said. “And don’t tell anyone else about what Arodine said,” Serena commanded with narrowed eyes. “Not even Jem,” she frowned and stubborn, Tessa had sat up on her seat.

She hadn’t been intimidated with the rough tone Serena had, and had all intentions to argue with her. “You put yourself in danger,” Tessa pointed out and Serena comically scoffed at her.

“I can protect myself from Downworlders, I have the powers too,” Serena frowned, her usual bright eyes darker, commanding enough to silence Tessa who had then slumped herself on the chair.

“If you say so,” Tessa muttered.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Serena had held the invitation she had received from Cersei; it was for the preparation of her bachelorette party and Serena had felt the most excitement she had felt for weeks. Other women from Venus had come to London for the preparation party, and Serena was sure most women from her home realm were going to be there.

A preparation party was of Venusian Traditions, for the women to be together before they partied like the Olympians. When Cersei sent the invitation card to Serena, she had written that her mother wouldn’t be there, but would be with Lyonel, which Serena had been thankful for.

As she knocked on the door, one of the servants quickly opened it and guided Serena to where everyone else had been. Serena’s eyes lit up, it had felt so familiar, it had felt like home.

Serena’s sight had then moved onto one of the ladies who was pregnant, a close friend of hers from back home, Mesona. Serena’s eyes softened. She didn’t realise how quick she had walked towards the pregnant woman and then held her hand, taking her from the conversation she had before Serena arrived.

“Serena,” Mesona smiled and uncaring for Victorian manners since all of them belonged to Venus. Serena immediately hugged Mesona. Had been careful to not be too tight due to the baby who she had easily sensed to be a Venusian Spirit.

With bright eyes, Serena placed her hand against her bump. “Oh, Mesona,” Serena breathed. “I’m so happy to see you, you---your baby, they’re a Venusian Spirit!”

“Hey!” Andrea waved as she stepped into the conversation, surprised to see Andrea here, Serena pulled away from Mesona and had moved to greet Andrea. “How is it at the London Institute?”

“Davidson should be there now,” Cersei said, she had moved away from the current gossip she had been in. Hands behind her back as she had a strange smile on her face.

She had looked beautiful, with her golden locks and halter dress. With how Venusian Cersei’s dress looked, Serena had felt verily out of place. Cersei’s hair was styled in an up-do, with some strands over her face, she wore flower-shaped pearl earrings and a beautiful diamond necklace. Serena felt breathless, she had well-matched the atmosphere of the party.

The room was lit with candles that gave the room a brownish and orange hue, there had been live music playing with violins and harpies, and there were a few servants who had kindly passed drinks and food to the women. “He’s such a good man protecting you,” Cersei went on and awkwardly, there had been a few shared glances by the other women in the circle.

“Yes,” Serena smiled. “He is,” she said before she returned her gaze to Mesona. She had found her fingers touching the pregnant lady and awkward, Cersei pressed her lips into a thin line. “Mesona, how’s your marriage with Atlan?”

Excited, Mesona had dragged Serena to where they could sit and busied herself explaining her marriage while Serena had informed Mesona on what had been happening in the Institute. The rest of the night had gone well, Serena was last to leave, and she had been last to leave due to her guilt over her affair with Davidson.

When she was on her feet to exit, she was stopped by Cersei. Uncomfortable, she turned to look at the Sapphire woman who had closed the door. She had a specific look on her face that had made Serena’s mouth run dry.

“Cersei,” Serena lightly joked. “The silence is killing me.”

Curt. Cersei shrugged her shoulders. “Okay,” she said as she placed her hands on her hips. Anxiously, Serena bit down on her lips, ready to defend herself about the truth between her and Davidson. “Have you been fucking my father?”

Shocked, Serena’s eyes widened, immediately she opened her mouth but with one finger pointed up, Cersei spoke. “Don’t lie to me.”

Ill-equipped, Serena’s eyes watered. “I used to,” she whispered, in fear of losing her best friend, Serena hadn’t been aware that dozens of tears had already fell down her cheeks. “I---”

“You once told Davidson and I that you lost your virginity at a young age,” Cersei shared, her eyes wide and clasped together. “Was it my father’s doing?”

Serena couldn’t be her usual defensive self and argue with Cersei. In shame, Serena had felt herself become small. “I---” she whimpered again and with clenched fists, Serena had felt herself begin to shake.

Unprepared for what Cersei would do to her, she had then felt surprised when she had experienced Cersei’s arms wrap around her. Cersei had been sorrowful. “I am not angry at you but my father for taking advantage of you,” Cersei whispered as she buried her face between Serena’s shoulder. “I wished,” she sighed as she pulled away to face her. “That you told me sooner,” Cersei requested as she wiped Serena’s tears with the pad of her thumb.

Serena’s lips trembled. “I didn’t know how to,” she softly cried and once more, Cersei hugged her again, had allowed Serena to cry against her shoulder.

“Thank you for not being angry at me,” Serena said as she rested her head against the wing of Cersei’s shoulder.

Had felt a huge relief pick her up, before she came to the Preparation Party, Serena had the intention to avoid Cersei majority of the times, out of shame and guilt due to what had happened between her and Cersei’s father, but then, there had been the affair between her and Davidson.

How would Cersei feel if she found out that she had not only been bedded by her father, but also by her fiancé. “It was my mother who had told me, had thought it would turn me against you, but evidently, it didn’t work, I’m better than that,” Cersei empathetically smiled.

Serena softly returned the expression back to her; the two women had let each other go. Cersei had called for a carriage for Serena to take her back into the institute.

Before Serena had left, she had thanked Cersei for her kindness. The trip back to the Institute was calm, thus she had drowned herself in thoughts to what would happen if Cersei found out that she had slept with Davidson.

Fingers tight, Serena was surprised when the carriage shook, as if someone had attacked it. Surprised, Serena immediately stepped out of the carriage to see what had happened.

They were here, the Rosehunters.

There were two of them, with weapons that she had identified to be of Venusian Steel. With an apologetic look towards the driver, Serena quickly gathered magic to defend herself and the carriage.

She had been quick, the power greatly flowed through her and attacked the two enemies who attempted to dodge, but Serena had been easily filled with rage, this had been part of the group who had killed her family. With a flared nose, Serena manipulated her chaos to turn into a long spike and easily darted it into one of their face’s, but strangely enough when they were attacked, they turned into a black smoke and ashes, as if Serena’s powers were of Holy Fire.

She had then turned to look at the one who had been left, there had been in a certain stance as if they were pondering to fight or flight. Though, Serena was quick, a huge blast of power ripped through them and just like their team-mate, they burst into smoke and ashes.

With a big sigh, Serena turned to the driver who had looked like they had seen a Hand of God pierce from the sky. “Go back to the Sapphire Household,” Serena commanded. “I’ll go back to the Institute by feet,” though there had been a hesitant look on the driver’s face that had then been encouraged by the power he had seen displayed in front of them, with a respectful bow of his head, the coachman left.

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masterlist

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