#with art and writing your past efforts remain there to be seen

[beevean]

I wonder if I've taken a liking to training in the gym because I can feel my progress, but I can't look back at my past accomplishments thus avoiding that sense of cringe at facing my past self.

[space-blue]

Total Beginner's Guide to running a tumblr fandom event week

So, you want to run a fandom event, like a week (or a bingo), and you don't know how to get started? Here's a guide to the process. It's not perfect, and the best experience remains to try your hand at it! Anyone has tips to add, please feel free! My credentials are that I've run 4 events across 2 fandoms, and will be using those works as examples along the way. This is a LONG POST.

Collect data

You don't want to run a week that already exists. It's bad etiquette, and you could step on toes. It also could be bad for your event, because people who already follow the well established event blog may not bother with yours.

Beware too of timing clashes! People are busy and might not be able to do multiple weeks at the same time. That being said it's not rare for weeks to run close to each other with parallel topics.

For example, "X/Y Kink Week" will not necessarily appeal to the same creators as "X/Y fluff Week". And some motivated fans may want to do both!

Check your fandoms for blogs like this Star Wars events aggregator!

Another aspect of data collection is more hands on: go and visit the blogs of all the weeks you took part in, and all the ones you find as you browse, type random week ideas, see what pops up. Check fandoms you aren't in as well! Check out their art, their FAQ, their masterposts. Take notes. Better, copy paste all the great turn of phrases to workshop later!

There's no need to reinvent the wheel, if you see a couple of blogs have incredible FAQs and rules, lift healthily and apply to your own event (of course, no one likes plagiarizing, so use your own words). Save the banners and "brand art" from blogs that slap. If it arrested your eye, it probably worked for others.

Having a strong visual identity is important. We'll get back to that later.

Another point of data you want to look into is, well... Is there a demand for your idea? You may have seen these posts floating on your dash before, called "Interest Check". Even blogs running yearly events will set those up, floating date ideas, etc.

It's best to run such checks from your own personal fandom blog or by reblogging a post from your newly created event blog, to reach more people (assuming your followers are into that same fandom). Ask around on discord communities too. If no one wants to do it... You risk spending a lot of time and effort for little return.

But that's fine too! Maybe you're running this week because your 5 fandom buddies all want to do it, and some randos may join!

Don't be afraid if you don't get hundreds of notes. It's all proportional to fandom size, how many people you reach yourself, but also, such blogs get bigger when they're run over time. I ended my first Arcane event with 70 followers. After 3 events it has 216! Obviously any future "interest check" I do will reach far more people.

2. Sit down and think about it

I'm sure you've already been thinking a lot about that fandom week you want to run, but you need to think some more.

Is it around a very popular ship? Is the fandom very young and buzzing with creativity? > You might want to enlist several mods to help you out!

About mods... You can add them by clicking on your blog and going to members

Be careful whether you want someone to be an admin or a mod. As you can see, I can choose to leave, remove or promote mod 2, but I can't do anything to mod 1. That's because I made them admin, and the blog belongs to them as much as me. No mutiny possible!

Mods can't edit the posts made by admins (only their own). This power distinction is very useful when someone has a popular fandom week blog but no time to run the event, and wants friends or fellow fans to help, without losing final say on their blog. For example, I don't own the Obitine blog, but I ran the 2021 event as a mod since the admin (who I don't know!) had no time for it.

If you are not doing a specific ship but instead focusing on a character or a place or concept, what sort of ship will you allow to write for/depict?

Even if you don't want to touch the topic or anti vs. proship, people will label you on their own.

Do you want to ban certain ships to avoid expected backlash? Mishandling this can also make you look like an anti yourself and bring its own backlash. Not passing judgement on what the solution is here, after all you do you! Just know that people online will have strong opinions and may not be afraid to slug them at you, no matter how hard you try to stick to your guns. Running an event is stepping out quite publicly.

If your week is a "rarepair" week for example, how will you set the limit? Do you define a rarepair as "a ship under X amount of fics on AO3" or some other measure? Again, will you be allowing controversial pairings?

You'd think running a Gen event would save your ass, but the only time I received death threats was because I was reblogging someone Anon didn't like... On an event about parenting/mentorship!

Once you've decided on such rules, SPELL THEM OUT and stick to them.

Going back to the first bullet point, others have pondered the issue! Once you've decided on the type of event you're running, see how similar events managed setting boundaries.

Don't be afraid to make this a group effort and turn to your friends and server communities. You can also ask them for help deciding on prompts. Some blogs let their followers make suggestions, others don't.

Decide too what sort of medium you want to allow. Some weeks are fanart only. Some are fanfic only. Others encourage anything.

Think about tagging policy and whether you'll deal with NSFW content. You'll want to state clearly if there are things you won't reblog.

All those conclusions will be distilled into the rules of your event and included on your masterpost accordingly.

3. Create your socials

You've made up your mind, and it's time to make a new blog! If you think you'll love this whole fandom event shtick, make a vague URL. "Fandom X Event blog" can be used multiple times, vs. something like "X/Y Shipping Week".

I've seen people run their event from their personal fandom blog. You do you, but I don't recommend it. It makes browsing the event much harder.

This is when you best do an interest check, if you haven't already.

If you expect fics to be made, you can create an AO3 collection (an example). You can copy paste your FAQ and rules directly there. If you want more submissions (especially fanart or cosplay), create a matching twitter account and link the two (it's done in Settings > Blogs (select the fandom blog) > scroll down to "Twitter" > Share on Twitter).

This is exponentially more effort and some blogs never bother. This is all up to you!

On your tumblr, create a FAQ page and enable Asks so people can reach out with questions. If you don't know how to create pages, check this tumblr tutorial. New blogs can't create pages, so better get started early. At worst you can make a post for the FAQ, but a page is easier to find.

4. Decide on the date and stick to it

Just what's on the tin. Don't surprise people with a late date change unless you really can't help it.

5. Time to make some artistic calls

The benefit of having a distinct visual identity is simple enough to understand if you've done any scrolling on the hellsite. Your eyes quickly glaze over, and text posts (especially long ones) get skipped way more easily.

Having a banner for your event makes your posts more arresting and more recognisable. Save this for important posts of course, not every update needs a banner.

It can be very basic stuff, and if you're not good with graphics, ask around. Plenty of creatives in fandom, and I'm sure a friend will be glad to do that work for you, and if they don't work on the event itself you can shoot them an @ in thanks.

The most important piece of visual media is going to be the prompt list. Not everyone bothers making an image, but I recommend you do. You should still pair it with a text post, but many people (such as myself) will download that image and work from it, rather than hunting your blog down each time to check.

Ideally, your prompt image should include the name of the event, the prompts, the dates and potentially your # and socials.

Using my own material for example :

This post has the dates in the text, but not the image itself. I ended up making a lot of different versions of that prompt post, which allowed people to reblog whatever character they liked best and spread interest for the event, but I wish I'd put dates and socials on there!

This one is better, with the days being listed a lot more clearly with their date. But the thin white font isn't ideal for readability. And that's important! Don't go overboard with insane graphics, clashing colours, complex fonts and effects. You want people to be able to parse the image easily and without squinting. The pretty effects and dividers here are just a funky free font from the internet called Bergamot Ornament.

This one is the most inclusive. It also has the tags and socials! But ideally it should be 1 image instead of 2. It also makes good use of ALT description.

See here how the banner style of that last one was kept across the subsequent posts? And then across all the daily prompt art. This makes the event more distinct and identifiable.

I've done daily prompt art in other events too. They're definitely on the side of overkill, but if you're having fun preparing art for your event, why not?

5.b. Wait, what about the prompts?

You do you! It should be part of your research. If you're running a month long event, a prompt a day is best. If you're running a week, 2 prompts a day is more common, in case people hate the one prompt. Some people like to do word prompts + AU prompt + image prompt... In our trans event we had 4 prompts a day. In our bingo cards we sometimes had 2 prompts in a square! Multiple prompts can also help having a gen and shippy option in the same day (like "cooking together" and "first kiss" might result in very different dynamics, but people can also have fun doing a piece with a first kiss happening while cooking together!)

Pick what you like best, but less is more for a beginner.

6. The important posts

The main two posts are the one announcing the dates and the rules, aka the "Masterpost", and the one with your prompts.

The Masterpost announces the dates, the # for the event (pick something easy and UNIQUE!!), explains what sort of event you are, includes the basic rules, and links to your FAQ, all your socials and AO3 collections. This post is nice with a banner. See here (a bingo masterpost for a change)

The Prompt post includes the visual prompts, and the complete text version of said prompts, the date, the #, and a link to the masterpost. See the posts linked above. You'll want that pinned to the top of your blog until the start of the event, and arguably throughout.

7. Give yourself time, and now advertise

Don't get a week started too quickly! People need some time to see your blog. Getting started on preparations 2 months ahead is good I think. Not any less than a month, but you can play further ahead of time, especially if you run a lengthy interest check and involve fans in prompt picking.

A good way to be on people's dash a lot as you build to the week is to have posts and banners leading up to the event, as shown above. "Two weeks to go!" and "One week to go!", final countdowns, etc.

Part of your preparatory research should have you browse the archives of popular event blogs, to see what sort of posts they made in the lead up to the event.

Be careful with how you tag your own posts, as they will be appearing in tumblr searches. Make sure your posts show up in the important tags.

Don't neglect discord! Servers can be quite insular, and if some of your friends are on multiple servers, they can help you promote the event more widely. Word of mouth can really do wonders. I've learned about weeks solely because someone mentioned working on some prompts in a discord server!

Opinionated advice : some people like to reblog art ahead of the week to build hype. I have done it myself in the past, and in the end I strongly suggest you don't. Being a blog dedicated to promoting a concept (a ship, a character, etc) is different from running an event. Going back to people having opinions about you... Some artist may resent having their art shared on an event blog, as it makes it look like they contribute to said event. Maybe they don't want their work shared to a greater audience. Maybe they don't like your philosophy, the other ships you sail, etc. Of course you could always reach out for permission! This remains a personal choice and a matter of etiquette, but I think an event blog is more professional when sticking to its event content.

8. Follow your own tag

Type your event tag in the search bar and hit the follow option. This will create a shortcut, whenever you click on the search bar! It works on mobile too.

Once the week gets started, you'll discover that people don't follow the rules, no matter how you spell them out and how much you plead.

You might beg people to @ your blog and use #ThisEvent2022, and they'll still go ahead and not @ you and post under #this event.

I tend to also check such adjacent tags to cover all bases. I've caught a few people that way.

9. Running the week itself

This is by far the easiest part, and to make it even easier you should decide how you'll use tags ahead of time. Keeping a pattern is nice. It's tidy and helps navigating the blog long term. It'll help you too if you decide to create a masterlist of all entries for example. Bear in mind that people won't be able to find your reblogs by keyword searching tumblr directly. They'll only see the original posts. So the tags on your own reblogs are only for the purpose of archiving and to help people reblogging from you have basic tags suggested to them.

Character name, character ship (A x B, A/B, or Ship Name), character quality (Like Trans Character or Pirate Character), type of art (gif set, fanart, fanfic), Your event tag, fandom tag, any potential AU or NSFW tag, artist handle.

This is a thorough tagging system that works well for events with multiple characters or ships. Adjust accordingly!

Then it's a mix of checking the tags and your notifications! Kudo, reblog... Up to you to decide if you post all in one go, throughout the day, and how long you'll be checking the tag for late participants.

You'll also have to decide how to juggle cross-posting to twitter or from twitter to tumblr, which is less easy. Brush up on Twitter etiquette. I'm told asian twitter likes Quote Retweets, while the Western side of Twitter sees them as stealing notifications and traffic from the artist. Keep an eye on artists who post on each platform, and reach out to those who don't to ask if they're okay with you crossposting. When going Twitter > Tumblr, make sure to include a very clear link, and the #Artists on Twitter tag.

If you have mods, keep an eye out for mistake-reblogs, as it's a very easy mistake. Try to spread work around too. Maybe someone is in charge of Twitter. Maybe your co-admin is up while you sleep and will keep an eye on the blog, etc.

You don't have to do daily prompt posts, but my personal philosophy is that they can be useful to followers, and if they get passed around it's more advertisement for your event, so it can't ever hurt.

Regarding AO3, people might struggle to find your collection. I don't know why, it's happened to me with my own collections, others' too. Have a clear and easy collection name, and give people the exact word they need to enter. It may not show up in the menu, but the fic will still be added to the collection. Make sure the collection is open too, of course.

10. Wrapping up!

When the week is over, you can make a big old post thanking everyone who participated, mention highlights... This is when you'll want the masterpost to become your pinned post, instead of the prompts one.

And for a very clean blog (or after other events on the same blog) you can create a multi event (or year) masterpost that stays pinned between events. This would contain links to your AO3 collections, event tags, information like whether you're still open to late submissions or not, etc.

11. Okay but what about Bingos? Month long events?

The same rules apply!

Bingos are very similar in practice, except you have to make Bingo cards, either yourself or using free online tools. The easy way is to have 1 card for everyone. The more intensive version is to have more options and randomize cards, handing them out to anyone who asks. Most "free" online tools limit you very quickly, so that's more work.

You share the bingo card like a prompt list. People tend to use your card and "cross off" their entries, so making it look good is also important (and also why randomized cards take more time).

Bingos can be done over a week, but a less hurried pace is better, as the final/most OP version of bingo is to do the entire card, and that amounts to a lot more than 7 entries! You want to give the crazy people dedicated fans more time!

Some events run over a month, with daily prompts, others with weekly prompts, etc. Have fun making your own format, but a week is a good starting point.

That's it! Hope this guide was helpful! Go forth and run fun weeks!

[aspenwritesstuff]

Part Two: Novelty Mugs

🌹 prev 🌹 masterlist 🌹 next

🌹taglist: open! @drhsthl​ @propertyoftoru​

He offered his arm, elbow bent for you to link with. You briefly considered denying the gesture, but the way his smile bloomed across freckled cheeks made it impossible to say no.

🌹warnings: swearing, potential mention of cheating ex, alcohol

🌹w/c: 4472

🌹a/n: it’s been a long time, but i’m FINALLY finished with this part. I’m so, so sorry for the delays. I’ve been having to work overtime, hardly any days off due to short staff. I hope that this part lives up to your expectations and was worth the wait. Thank you for those who stuck around for this. ❣️ The end of this chapter is a little rushed, but my excitement to write it was dwindled by the long workdays. I hope it’s still alright. 

Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender, was a lot of things.

Cheerful? Of course! This man was sunshine in corporeal form, with a smile infectious enough to soften even the steeliest of exteriors. Awkward? Certainly! On a near-weekly basis he would confidently say, “You, too!” in reply to a drive-thru worker telling him to enjoy his meal. Selfless? Without a doubt! He once had literally given the shirt off his back to a stray cat he’d seen scuttle down an alley, claiming it was far too cold for it to sleep without a blanket. 

Prideful, however, was the farthest thing from anyone’s mind when the bubbly blonde’s name came up in conversation. 

But yet, as he bookmarked the address of your “date” into his phone’s GPS, he couldn’t help but allow himself to stroke his ego - just a little bit. 

He would be the first to admit that, in his efforts to be sure to leave you with a good impression, he may or may not have stayed up until birdsong overtook the nighttime trill of crickets and cicadas. It wasn’t that he thought you would be angry with him that he poured so much effort into planning, though. Felix simply wanted to give you a properly inspiring date, a thank-you in advance for helping him catch the eye of Ryujin - or as he would confidently proclaim, the future love of his life.

His late night resulted in him waking up later than usual, meandering lazily to his kitchen at half-past noon in search of caffeine. He groaned as he pulled the last pod of medium-roast Colombian from its box, dreading another bound-to-be-awkward encounter with the grocery clerk. 

After Felix placed the cup into the machine - having to try twice to actually hit the start button through his sleep-addled vision - the inviting scent of coffee filled the air. Once he’d added an unnecessary amount of cream and sugar, settling in on the couch comfortably,  he’d finally unlocked his phone to go through the notifications he’d missed during his well-earned slumber.

Social media updates took up most of the screen, but there was only one thing that had Felix grinning into his coffee; the confirmation email from the art center he’d reserved in the evening, from six to eight, for your first official outing. 

It was a hole-in-the-wall art studio, occupying the top floor of a three-story brick building downtown. Although it had fantastic reviews, Felix had been pretty surprised to never have heard of the place. The images Google had provided showed a warm-looking interior; deep burgundy walls and paint-splattered hardwood floors encapsulating several two-seated tables with a barrier inbetween them.

The idea was for couples to show up together, pick out a piece of pottery, and paint it for their partner all while sipping on the wine provided by the studio. Hiding the end result until they’d put them in the kiln together resulted in a surprise within what could already be considered an out-of-the-ordinary date. 24 to 48 hours later, they could pick their pieces up and bring them home - a permanent souvenir of the day spent together between lovebirds.

Or, in you and Felix’s case, friends with the most unconventional of benefits.

The mirth of his expression remained as he opened Tinder, shooting a quick message to inform you to be ready by 5:30, including what he considered to be a polite offer to pick you up if you were comfortable sharing your address. Eight separate texts formed a charmingly cumbersome infodump:

Hi! Our date is a go, six to eight! 

I’ll pick you up around 5:30?

 if you want! Only if you’re comfortable, I mean.

I am some dude from the internet and all.

Sorry.

But the offer stands!

Let me know.

Finishing off the last of his sugary drink, he set the mug aside to prepare himself for the endeavor, giddy excitement bubbling deep within his chest as he saw your reply flash on the screen, Google Maps location included:

You’re so weird. I’ll be ready! Apartment 4.

It was 5:15 and Jisung was doing everything he could to make getting ready into the most mind-boggling experience imaginable.

“You do realize you have no idea where you’re going?” he asked from his perch on the edge of your bed, popping one of the grapes from the bag he stole from your fridge into his mouth.

“Yeah, so?” You looked over your outfit in the mirror - a deep blue sweater and nice black jeans - before turning to him with your hands on your hips.

“What if he’s taking you somewhere super ritzy?” his words came out jumbled from the several pieces of fruit he held in his cheeks, making it hard to consider the possibility that he had a point seriously.

“Do you think he would?” You wondered this yourself; what kind of dates would Felix be taking you on? Would he go traditional, dinner and a movie? The inclusion of a timeframe for the date led you to believe it might be on the nicer side, but he certainly wouldn’t be taking you to a black-tie restaurant – right?

“I dunno, despite my best attempts I haven’t met the guy!” Han laughed while you rolled your eyes. He’d been annoyingly persistent about wanting to meet the guy you were seeing - even if it wasn’t romantic. ‘I’m your best friend, it’s the law,’ he’d said when he’d come over for drinks after your first meeting with your fount of inspiration, only leading you to flick him on the forehead.

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent,” you complained, flopping down next to him on the bed face down, turning your face to the side as to not muffle your response with your pillow, “It’s not like we’re seriously together.”

“I know, stupid,” he pouted, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know who’s taking my best friend’s time away from me!” As your eyelids drooped into an expression of annoyance, his frown only grew deeper, “What if he kidnaps you? And I can’t even tell the police what he looks like.”

“You’ve literally seen his photos, Ji,” you deadpanned, propping up on your elbow to steal a grape.

“That’s beside the point,” he dismissed you with a wave of his hands, pulling the grapes out of your reach, “Thief.”

“I literally bought those. They were in my fridge until you took them,” you reminded him with an exasperated sigh.

“No, I was saving them from a terrible life of rotting away while you live on takeout.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, rising once more to your feet to peruse your shoes.

“So you’re really wearing that?” Jisung asked slowly, disapproval shooting from his dark eyes as he watched you grab a pair of boots.

“And you’re not really shutting up, so I guess we’re even.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stood up, making his way to the kitchen to put the grapes back. 

“Bring me my coffee!” You called as you zipped the sides of the worn leather against your ankle.

He hadn’t responded, simply opting to grab the novelty mug from the counter and carry it back with him, setting it on your vanity. He guffawed as he read the side, remembering the day he’d gotten it for you.

“I can’t believe I caused the start of the strangest collection I’ve ever seen,” he mused, grin only growing wider as you gave him a narrowed side-eye. 

“Don’t look at me like that! I got you one cheesy mug once and now that’s all you drink out of.” 

You looked down at the item in question, remembering the proud smirk on Jisung’s face when he’d gifted it to you as a gag four Christmases ago. He was very, very proud of his cringeworthy kitchenware choice, pretending that he knew you would love it when you’d started gathering more and more of a similar nature.

‘I TURN COFFEE INTO BOOKS’ in bold, black print stared at you tauntingly. If only it were that easy, you wouldn’t be getting ready for a mystery date with barely more than a stranger. 

You supposed Jisung was right, perhaps twenty novelty coffee cups was a bit on the excessive side, but they brought you joy. That was a good enough reason, right? The stupid little sayings were just dumb enough to bring the ghost of a smile onto your face, even in dark times.

“Don’t hate on my trashy ceramics, Han Jisung,” you warned, sipping the barely-sweetened drink.

“Not hating, just criticizing,” he corrected, cackling when you held your middle finger up from the handle whilst taking another drink of the room-temperature coffee. 

“It’s not hurting anyone,” you muttered after swallowing, walking to the living room with Han on your heels.

“I know, I know,” he agreed, following your lead and sitting across from you on the couch. You’d thought he was going to head out, seeing as you were now ready. At the inquisitive raise of a brow that met his actions, he returned to the prior conversation, “So, I’m meeting him today right?”

“Oh my God, Ji,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose as you fought the urge to shout, “Why won’t you let this go?” 

“Because!” he whined, kicking his feet like a spoiled child, “Our Friday night tradition of horrible movies and beer is being infringed upon!” he continued to cry out dramatically, “I gotta meet the culprit!”

“That…” you sighed, “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“But it does!” he insisted, grand gestures of his hands accentuating just how serious he was. “You see, if he’s a cool dude? I won’t be so peeved by it. If he sucks? I’ll feel vindicated in my righteous fury! You just gotta let m–”

“If I let you meet him will you shut up?” You cut him off, unable to take even one more begging word from his lips.

“I will take a vow of silence at a monastery, at this point.” He solemnly agreed.

“That’s a little extreme,” you chuckled softly, “Besides, they’d kick you out in like…a week. Tops.”

“True, true,” he agreed. Following a very, very short lived silence, he reiterated, “So this means I am meeting him…right?”

“Ugh!” you complained, throwing a decorative pillow at his face.

“Bitch!” he shouted, widened surprise overtook by an all-too-familiar mischievous glint as he stood to take a step towards you.

“Don’t you fucking dare…” you warned, rising to your feet and backing away.

“You started this, kid,” he said with a calm smile, approaching you carefully as you set the mug down on the table - a smart move when Jisung was on one of his many ‘rampages.’

“Please, Ji. You’re gonna ruin my makeup!” you pleaded, pointlessly in his eyes, as you felt the cool of your countertops come into contact with your back - effectively trapping you.

“You should’ve thought of that before throwing things at me,” he laughed, launching himself forward to attack the sides of your ribs with rough tickles.

“Get off me!” You squealed, writhing sporadically in an attempt to get away from the onslaught. Jisung merely cackled as he continued attacking your sides, eyes glittering with joy at the sight of you helplessly flailing.

“I mean it! Get off!” you shouted between bursts of screaming laughter, doing your utmost to remove him from your proximity. 

“No, you asked for this!” he chuckled darkly, his fingertips digging harder into your sides making you yelp.

“C-can’t b-breathe!” you urged, face reddening as he ceaselessly tickled your sides.

“Too bad!” He laughed, showing no signs of stopping until your front door flung open. His eyes mirrored your own, round as saucers with shock at the sound of the knob against the entryway’s wall.

The blonde only one of you knew stormed into your apartment, uninvited, with a more serious expression than you ever could’ve pictured him wearing. His hair was slicked back out of his face, giving him a much more mature presence alongside the seriousness in his glaring eyes and thinned lips. 

“Get off of her!” Felix shouted, storming in with his fists balled up at his sides. His shoulders were tensed as he strode towards Jisung, a certain sureness in his step - the kind that made you think your best friend might get punched - quickly bringing you to action.

Placing yourself between the two men, you quickly tried to explain, “No, Felix! It’s okay!” your attempt seemed pointless, his worry-creased brow shadowing the icy stare that darted between you and Jisung.

“It didn’t sound okay,” he near-whispered, the gravely depth of his voice rumbling in his chest as he stared Jisung down from over your shoulder, jaw tensing and relaxing rhythmically as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“It’s fine, he’s my friend,” you continued slowly, heart racing from the previous tickle-fest and a momentary fear for Jisung’s safety.

“You were screaming,” Felix continued, face as concerned as it could possibly be, “I heard you say you couldn’t breathe!” he continued to insist.

“I was tickling her, you goon,” Jisung burst into a fit of laughter, suddenly doubling over as he clutched his stomach.

“Tickling…you..?” Felix asked, any trace of malice being replaced with shock and confusion before he flushed a deep red, suddenly aware of the fact he’d just busted into your apartment without knocking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, a small snort from your nose betraying your honest attempt not to laugh at the well-meaning man.

“I–” he started, only to swallow thickly as the shades of his face went from scarlet to white, paling with shame, “I am so, so sorry!” He clasped his hands in front of his face, eyes clenched shut tightly as though he were praying.

“Felix, it’s fine,” you encouraged, still trying to hold down the laughter that threatened to bubble from your tightened lips. 

“I genuinely thought someone was hurting you, I didn’t think, I just barged in here!” he ran a hand through his hair, eyes bugging out as he took a shaky breath, “I just waltzed right in and almost punched your friend in the face…” He looked like he’d seen a ghost as he whispered the last sentence, hiding his second round of blushing behind his hands.

“Best friend,” Jisung corrected, finding the whole situation remarkably funnier than Felix had as he wiped a tear from his eye.

From behind the curtain of his fingers, you could see his face shift even darker as he grumbled, “Oh, God, I am so stupid. So, so stupid.”

“Are you kidding?” Jisung asked at the same time you’d tried to reassure Felix that you know he had good intentions, “That was the funniest thing that’s happened to me in months!”

“You–” Felix peered at Jisung from behind parted digits, shoulders slowly sinking as he relaxed, “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?!” Jisung began another round of cackling before stepping around you to place a hand on Felix’s shoulder, “I’m honestly relieved that you’d be sure to keep my favorite idiot safe –” he ignored the pointed glare you sent his way, not missing a single beat, “I’m Han Jisung.” 

Felix stared at his outstretched palm for a solid five seconds before tentatively shaking it, face breaking out into a meeker version of his typical beam, “Lee Felix,” he returned, visibly relaxing as the interaction continued. 

“Now that no one is going to get beat up…” you interrupted, picking up your mug and sipping to calm the dryness fear had left in your throat as you finished the last of your drink, “It’s about time for us to head out, yeah?”

The way Felix stared at your mug didn’t go unnoticed by you. Or Jisung.

“I know, I was just telling her how stupid they are,” Jisung explained, earning your balled up fist shaking in his face. He pushed it away with a chuckle, “But she keeps buying more and more.”

You flushed, both mortified and irritated with Jisung openly teasing you in front of Felix. 

Felix shook his head, “I think it’s kind of fun, actually! Like a nice little message with your coffee,” he explained his theory in earnest, not a single hint of a joke present in his rich voice, “Something to smile about in the mornings.”

You shot him a grateful look, both for understanding and not joining in with Jisung’s jabs, holding back a smirk as Jisung frowned.

“Don’t encourage her,” Jisung said with mock annoyance, throwing his head forward into his hands as though it were the worst possible thing that could happen. 

“But, you were right,” Felix smiled down at you, eyes twinkling, “I don’t want us to be late! I’m really proud of this date.”

He offered his arm, elbow bent for you to link with. You briefly considered denying the gesture, but the way his smile bloomed across freckled cheeks made it impossible to say no. Joining arms, he walked you towards the still-open door, Jisung hollering an empty threat of, “Have her home by ten! No shenanigans!” bringing laughter to both of your lips the second the door closed behind you.

You weren’t sure what you expected Lee Felix, twenty three year old bartender, to drive - but an old pickup truck certainly wasn’t high on the list. 

He opened the creaky door for you, letting you use his surprisingly sturdy shoulder to climb into the cab before getting in the driver’s seat. 

“I’m still sorry about barging in,” he admitted before starting the vehicle, turning the radio down into a faint hum appropriate for conversing over.

“Don’t be,” you said with a genuine smile, “I think that may have been the highlight of Jisung’s year.”

“Almost getting punched counts as a highlight?” he asked, brow raising as he watched the road ahead, shifting into drive to start your journey.

“You’ll understand if you spend time with him,” you said with a shrug. You’d be the first to admit the enigma that was Han Jisung took longer than a few moments to crack.

Felix simply hummed a response, eyes focused on the road ahead as the two of you fell into a calm silence, thrumming of the truck’s engine providing just enough white noise to keep it from being awkward. 

It wasn’t until Felix informed you that you’d arrived that the stillness was broken, earning a confused look from you as you stared up at the unassuming masonry concealing your destination.

“What is this..?” You asked quietly, getting nothing from Felix but an excited giggle before he clambered out of his seat, rushing to open yours. 

“You’ll see,” he finally replied, feeling the need to reassure you without giving away his entire plan, “It’s on the third floor.”

“That tells me literally nothing,” you joked, accepting his arm immediately this time as he led you inside. 

“That’s the point.” 

As the two of you grew nearer to the top floor, the smell of clay overtook the mustiness that otherwise occupied the stairwell. Soon after, nearly ruining Felix’s well-kept secret, the familiar fumes of paint wafted to your curious nose. 

“We’re painting?” You asked, untangling your elbows as Felix stepped in front of you to hold the door.

“Kind of,” he admitted, gesturing for you to walk in.

As you did, everything clicked. The walls were filled with shelf upon shelf of unpainted pottery, everything from sculptures to kitchenware ripe for the taking.

Before you could vocalize your understanding, a middle aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair approached the two of you with a warm smile.

“Hello! You must be Mr. Lee!” She mirrored the nod Felix gave her before taking a few steps towards a table, “Right this way, kids.”

Felix followed her diligently, tugging on your sleeve to pull you back from the trance the shelves seemed to have put you in. The woman stopped, nodding towards a table with a divider and explaining how everything worked - though it was rather self explanatory - before leaving you and Felix to it. 

“What’re you gonna pick?” you asked as you browsed the same shelf on opposite sides, running your fingers over the hardened clay of a statuette.

“I can’t tell you, that ruins the surprise,” he deadpanned, focused eyes visible through empty space on the shelf.

“Then I’m not telling you either,” you warned, moving on to a set of teacups as you watched carefully for any reaction on his face.

“Of course,” he agreed, gaze still holding immovable concentration as he scoured his side.

“You really don’t wanna know?” you reiterated.

“No, I’ll see after you paint it.”

His eyes remained focused on the task at hand, brows knitting together with the sheer concentration he was putting into his choice. The moment you brought your attention back to the decision you had yet to make, your gaze fell on a set of three shot glasses.

Now, you weren’t an expert on the man by any means, but it seemed safe to assume that Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender, could make use out of the trio of cups. 

You lifted the tray they were sitting on carefully, checking once to be sure Felix’s attention was still on his selection before carrying them back to your half of the divided table. Grabbing a few selections of pastel-colored glazes before taking a seat, you began your task. Half of one glass was a pretty, baby pink when the man of the hour took his place across from you.

“Welcome back,” you hummed, face scrunching in concentration as you meticulously stained the rim of a glass.

Felix simply chuckled in response, bass tones resonating within his chest bringing an immediate comfort along with them. You painted your choices in a comfortable silence for a while, long enough for you to finish painting the outside of the three shot glasses with their own respective pastel; pink, green, and blue. 

“How’s it comin’ along over there?” Felix asked softly, rich voice filling the once stagnant air.

“I think it’s going well,” you smiled, though he wouldn’t be able to see it through the divider, “Hard to tell, the glazes all look so light before they’re fired.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” the low-level panic in his voice brought the imagery of a deer in headlights to your mind’s eye as he continued, “I wanna make you something nice but I’m pretty sure I just used blue instead of orange.”

You snorted softly, pulling the brush away from the piece you were working on so as not to ruin it with the movement laughter would bring.

“You’re the one who has to take any mistake I make on this home,” he reminded you, warning tone betrayed by the tangible mirth behind his words, “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” a smirk played at the corners of your lips as you brushed off his complaint, grabbing a smaller brush to paint a daisy at the bottom of the glass you were working on.

You recreated the delicate blossom inside of the three remaining pieces, content with how the delicate nature of the flower seemed to mirror that of the man across from you. 

“I think I’m done after I add the shine coat,” Felix spoke again, clattering of brushes filling the brief quiet before he resumed, “How far are you?”

“Same,” you reached for the coat of finish to your left only to pause at the unexpected sensation of warm fingers beneath your touch. Felix had been reaching for the same tub, the two of you unable to see which the other had opted to take through the separating screen. 

The second and a half it took for the two of you to recoil your hands and apologize felt like at least two minutes, heat rushing to your - and surely Felix’s - cheeks. 

“I’ll take the other one,” Felix spoke quickly, pitch of his voice uncharacteristically high as the bottle to the right disappeared from view. You swallowed the embarrassed lump in your throat, managing only to hum an affirmation before taking the bottle you’d originally gone for.

The silence wasn’t quite as comfortable this time around, brushstrokes being the only awkward attempt at noise before a slightly-less ruffled Felix piped up once more.

“Your hands are really soft.”

His voice was gentle, as though you were a wild animal he was anxious of startling away. Though careful, there was no hiding the genuine warmth in his voice - that very warmth melting away any of the discomfort you’d been feeling moments prior. 

“Yours, too,” you agreed, cringing briefly at the lameness of your response until Felix’s bright laugh chased any dark cloud away.

“Really?” he asked with a happiness reminiscent of a child in a candy shop, “I started using this new lotion, it smells really nice so I hoped it would work! The cleaning supplies I use at work were really drying out my hands, and–”

“Yes, Felix,” you cut him off as you giggled, picturing his fluffy hair bouncing as he went on his excited tangent. Though your time of knowing him wasn’t long, the way he would launch himself into topics had a distinct way of bringing forth your care.

The laughter in your voice was replaced with simple affection as you reiterated, “Your hands are really soft.”

The woman from earlier came by then, tired eyes scanning both of your pieces before asking if you were finished. After the two of you confirmed you were done, she nodded, “I’ll take care of the rest and call you when you can pick them up, kids.”

After thanking her for her help and gathering your things, Felix led you back to his truck and drove you home in a once-again comfortable silence. 

As you reentered your apartment, having dismissed Felix’s near insistence to walk you the entire way to your door, you were met instantly with a very chirpy inquisition from Jisung - sprawled in typical fashion across the couch.

“So,” he grinned, wagging his eyebrows, “How was it?”

For a moment, you weren’t quite sure how to answer. You hadn’t been out in so long, it wasn’t too strange for you to shy away from any specifics. 

You’d debated telling him about the details; how your limited knowledge of Felix led you to paint him some shot glasses with happy flowers inside, how you could still feel the heat from where his hand had grazed your own, how you felt almost too comfortable in his presence for how close to a stranger he still was.

“It was nice,” you said instead as you smiled, removing your shoes before grabbing a beer, joining your best friend on the couch for a delayed movie night.

And it was.

Your first not-a-date date with Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender - with very soft hands was nice.

[ask-de-writer]

WIND MEETS THE ROM : Part 19 of 27 :

MLP Fan Fiction

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WIND MEETS THE ROM

Part 19 of 27

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

54212 words

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 06/01/18

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from Part 1, here!

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They had just set out a big serving bowl filled with the salad, which now had some dried fruits and chopped nuts in a sauce poured into it and tossed together, when the first of the Royal Road Police came trotting into the wayside.

Lunch was a pleasant affair. Their guests were polite and appreciative of both the meal and the stories that flew about the dining area. They had their own stock of humorous tales of policing the roads.

Wind was pleasantly surprised by the nature of those stories. These police were unlike any that she had experience of. They spent most of their efforts in actively assisting the ponies and Rom who used the roads.

The Southern Haymarket Section Captain was just finishing up with, “We managed to get that wheel true enough to get him to the wheelwright's shop! As he started to pull, his right draw strap gave out! Turned out, he had not been waxing the canvass full length properly and some recent rains caused it to rot out at the wagon end!”

Wind was listening in fascination. No fines or such. Just working to keep the traffic on the busy Royal Roads moving properly or helping get a damaged wagon to the side of the road while the necessary workponies were summoned to fix the problem.

She whispered to Hanar, “Why didn't they write up fines for that pony's negligence?”

She whispered back, “Princess Luna is the High Commissioner of the Royal Roads. She figures that the cost of repairs is fine enough. Most new long haul ponies sort out that proper equipment maintenance pays off by not needing repairs. That strap though, that was just bad luck. The ponies mostly won't use leather and fabrics simply will not last. With the best of maintenance a woven harness will only last for a year or a bit more.

“The RRP will write up fines where ponies break the Royal Road laws on purpose or if somepony has the same problem several times in a row. They will really land hard on ponies that try to dodge the Section Tolls. Likewise, they will come down hard on Section Gatekeepers who try to collect improper tolls or any tolls and fees on Rom.”

The Haymarket Section Captain overheard and put down the berry pie that he was eating to explain, “If most of what we do is help the traffic on the Royal Road to run smoothly, nopony or any other is afraid of us. They see us as friends who will help if they have a problem. You would be surprised how often they will tip us off to other ponies who ARE breaking the laws, just because of that trust.”

Wind bowed her head to him. “I am beginning to really respect both you and your Princesses. This is the only world that I have seen where police work like you do. I see why we Rom like you so much.”

He returned her courtesy with curiosity, “How do police work on the other worlds that you have been to?”

Wind shrugged. “Most are like the town constables that I have seen. Over full of their own importance, always throwing their weight around and trying to snag some sort of bribe.”

He grimaced, “We do get some of that sort that sneak past our training. We don't tolerate them and both report and discharge them. The report will keep them out of other Royal Service too. The armed services don't need looters and that is what they will become.”

Marchhare spoke around his seconds on apricot filled pastry and Rom black tea, “And that, Captain, is why you and your officers are welcome in our camps and to share meals with us.”

Lunch over, Wind took her comfortable and expected place by Hanar's side. To a fun road song about what Marchhare hates, they were on their way. Wind's sharp hearing picked out Marchhare's voice belting out the humorous and slanderous verses!

She was caught by surprise by the next song being one of the new versions of Wind's Wings. That was followed by the Shehan Ja Rom. When it was just done, Wind's hearing caught Marchhare's quiet grumble of, “I still say that I would have noticed something like dying!”

During the small lull in songs, Hanar told her, “Our next fair will be Morton's Swale. They are an old town. The original town was completely washed away in a huge flood about 800 years ago. The ponies that lived there almost all got to high ground before the worst of it came through their town.

“To give you an idea of how big the flood was, look up on those hills. See that sort of bench thing that is the same height all along from hill to hill?”

Wind did look. In awe, she also looked at the other side of the river valley. Pointing, she spoke in a small voice, “That is a high water bench over there, too. Isn't it?”

Hanar nodded. “Correct, Wind. This whole valley was inundated for hundreds of kilometers. The water was full of uprooted trees, wreckage from places washed away and every sort of debris. It was over twenty meters deep along here. In places where it was pinched by the land shapes, it hit over forty meters deep.”

As she leaned into the harness, Wind wondered aloud, “How could a flood like that happen?”

Hanar, holding her perfect pace, responded, “Up north of here a ways, on the Sunset Mountains side of the river is a place where a whole bunch of big canyons called the Maze all come out at one place. That is the Red Branch Notch. The Princesses spent five years building a dam there. Water from it could have opened up millions of hectares of land to farming.

“The dam was ALMOST finished. It needed a bit more fill on the northern end and to settle for another year to pack the dam's earth fill solidly. The Weather Authority was under strict orders to keep all rain away from those canyons that fed into the dam.

“Our ancestors, the original seven horses that became the Rom and Marchhare, were coming to Equestria as told in the Shehan Ja Rom. They were just past the divide and coming down the long slope.

The Weather Authority was planning to put a really huge amount of surplus water up well north of the Maze. Four of the pegassi working to move the cloud formation into place tried to play a prank on Marchhare by drenching the caravans of those first Rom. They only planned for a little rain that likely would not have caused any damage but they did not understand what they were doing. Their prank got away from them.

“They drained almost all of the huge weather system into the canyon that Marchhare and the others were at the head of. It only took a few hours to do. The whole Maze filled up and the unfinished dam failed in only minutes under the enormous pressure of the water. That is where the flood came from.”

Wind blinked a few times as she digested the tale. “So, your ancestors fled a drought and nearly got washed away by the biggest flood in Equestrian history?”

Hanar chuckled as she retorted, “Right. Do not think that the irony of that is lost on us, either!”

It was not long before they came to the gate for the Morton's Swale Fairgrounds. The pony at the gate was actually quite civil as he directed them to their usual place down at the end of the marked out midway.

The band was going through the usual happy madhouse of setting up. Wind and Hanar had her booth up and were starting to move in the tables and display stands.

There was something new to Wind. A modest sized wheel worked by a treadle was connected to a small wheel by a belt of twisted string. The small wheel drove a u shaped contraption with one of Hanar's thread bobbins in the middle of it.

Hanar promised, “I will show you what it is and what it does in a bit, Wind. It helps me to make the threads that I need for my weaving.”

Hanar's booth was all set and ready to begin sales. She had her fabrics and trims set up in their racks, the measuring and cutting table in the center, and off to one side, was the wheel contraption.

Since the fair was not to open until the next day, Hanar took out a bundle of the smooth fine fibers that she had freed from those nettle stalks collected a few days past.

Back then, after she had removed the surprisingly large amount of fibers, she had continued to crush the remainder of softened stalks and winnowed the goo that was left out of the tank with a sieve. That she passed on to another of the band who cheerfully took it, chortling, “Thank you, Hanar, dear. Will you need any of the paper that this will make?”

Wind was beginning to realize just how interconnected the assorted Rom actually were.

Now she watched in fascination as Hanar used her versitile magic to twist a thin leader of the fine, soft fiber. Holding the bundle, she threaded the lead thread through a hole in the center of the open end of the U shaped part and over a hooklike peg, one of several along the length of the device. From there, it was taken in and looped over itself around the shaft of the bobbin in the center of the U.

Hanar's forehoof began to rhythmically work the treadle, causing the big wheel to spin and the small one to nearly vanish, it was turning so swiftly! Hanar was watching the developing thread as she drew the bundle gently back. After about a half meter of thread was twisted, she carefully fed it in, letting the new thread wrap around the bobbin. As the thread neared the spinning device, Hanar began to let more spinning thread grow, then wind up, spinning and winding, spinning and winding.

She paused once in a while to move the thread to a new hook on the U before continuing to spin. Soon the bobbin was full. Hanar expertly removed it and replaced it with another, securing the end of the thread just as she had at first. She kept right on spinning thread until the dinner gong sounded!

She carefully stowed everything and the two raced for the serving line! As they were going about their tasks of serving dinner to the rest of the band, Hanar took a second to point in delight!

“Look down the Midway, Wind! The bands of Na Seri and De Innis are here! Those bands will love learning Wind's Wings! This will be a lovely fair! I wonder if any of the wood miners will be here?”

After the serving rush was over, Wind and Hanar found a nice place to eat their dinners. As she was sipping her Rom Black tea, Wind asked, “You mentioned wood MINERS? Don't you mean wood CUTTERS?”

Hanar snickered, “No, Wind, love. Remember that I told you about that flood, 800 years ago? Some of the trees that were washed out of the Maze were over a thousand years old. Huge things. A lot of them washed into Morton's Swale and jammed there. The log jam silted over before the flood was done.

“The ponies here discovered the buried trees about a hundred years later. Instead of rotting, the wood absorbed minerals from the soil and turned lovely colors. Nowdays, some of it is actually almost stone. If they have anything good looking, Marchhare is sure to want some.”

Wind snickered slightly and pointed out, “Bet that Rose will want almost all that they have. It sounds like just the sort of thing that she will want for her boxes.”

Hanar nodded. “When they do show up, it will almost be a stampede. Every luthier among the Rom prizes those woods. They swear that sound boxes and such sing sweeter when they are made with some of these woods.”

It was not long before a number of strange Rom, adults and foals alike showed up at Marchhare's camp. They were being led by mare with a curved horn, resplendent in soft blue sashes, trimmed and embroidered in shades of yellow, and a richly tooled and dyed harness.

They eagerly cornered Black Lotus and Hoof Dancer, demanding, “We have heard that you have new dance steps and a new tune! Please show us! We have the rest of the day and all night before the fair starts!”

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#WIND MEETS THE ROM#Part 19 of 27#MLP Fan Fiction#Written by De Writer

[hapalopus]

Sacred Cows and Sacrificial Guinea Pigs

From The Wine of Life, and Other Essays on Societies, Energy & Living Things by Harold J. Morowitz (1981)

Somewhere in the past I had found out a sacrifice was "primarily, the slaughter of an animal as an offering to God or a deity." This seemed at first sight to be very different from the procedures so casually described in articles on animal experimentation in biochemistry, physiology, and pharmacology journals. An effort to elaborate the difference took me to the encyclopedic notion that "Sacrifice is a religious rite in which an object is offered to a divinity in order to establish, maintain, or restore a right relationship of man to the sacred order" (Encyclopedia Britannica). The topic of human and animal sacrifices has been the subject matter of anthropologists, social psychologists, and religious scholars. I perused this literature in an effort to gain some insight into the modern use of the word and was led id over ego by free association to the following whimsical view of a contemporary anthropologist writing on the subject of the sacrifice of experimental animals:

Animal sacrifice had all but died out in the established religions of the western world, when in the 1800s it mysteriously reappeared among a new cult know as Physiologists. In order to comprehend the activities of this sect we must note the similarities and differences between the new elite and their historical predecessors. The Physiologists practice their rites in cultic centers called Laboratories. These structures differ from the older Temples in that the sacrificial altars which are the center of the public rooms in the Temples are found in small private chambers in the Laboratories. There is often a single large public room in the Laboratories, but it is restricted in use to one-hour devotional meetings where the congregation sits in the dark while a chief sacrificer describes his rituals. These sessions are called Seminars, and sometimes the devotees become so absorbed in the ritual that they are seen to close their eyes in prolonged meditation.

Membership of the cult of the Physiologists is very select, and an eight- to twelve-year period of apprenticeship is required. The training consists of memorizing the sacred paradigms and learning to carry out sacrifices with scalpels, needles, electrodes, and various strange potions. The entrails the blood of the victims are then placed in very varied ways into large machines. The apparent purpose of processing the blood and organs in these elaborate modes is to read omens of the future. The novitiates must learn to operate the portent machines, and they are frequently chastised by senior cult members if they fail to master these arts. A substantial number of novices are excommunicated from the cult at this stage. This sometimes happens at a formal ceremony called the Oral (an obvious contraction of the term oracle).

Unique among the Physiologists is a sacred law which requires them to divide all animals into two groups, Experimental and Control. This is reminiscent of the Old Testament sacrificial rite where two identical goats were chosen, 'one for the Lord and the other for the scapegoat.' After differing treatment, both goats are killed. Occasionally, a sacrificer will forget the sacred law of division and in the darkened room where he describes his rituals someone will intone, 'Where are your Controls?'

The modern practitioners of 'zoocide' wear simple robes usually of white (for purity) or light green (for plant fertility?). They generally have a procedure of replacing robes that have been soiled in the sacrifice by fresh robes that have been ritually purified.

After the sacrifices have been made and the blood and entrails have been removed (sometimes only a single organ is taken), the remains of the animal body are made into a burnt offering. This ceremony takes place in a subterranean room in a large fiery chamber called an Incinerator. Enigmatically, the burnt offering is made by an individual who is not a full member of the cult and often appears to do penance by sweeping the floor and removing trash. On rare occasions, the animals are not consumed by the sacred fire, but are eaten. This appears never to be the case when dogs, cats, or rodents are sacrificed, but occurs most often when the ceremonial animals are crustaceans such as lobsters.

The Physiologists do not feel that their sacrifices are effective until they have been broadcast in great detail to the maximum possible number of fellow cultists. For this reason they print large numbers of religious tracts called Journals and undertake long and arduous trips to Laboratories around the world to describe their animal killings. The importance of informing others of the sacrifices is stressed in the phrase, 'Those of ye who do not publish, shall surely perish,' which is taught to novitiates during their training period.

Some members of the cult practice the rite of withdrawing blood from living animals. Indeed, some even withdraw blood from living humans. Although human sacrifice is never practiced, the act of human bloodletting is quite common. This is thought to be a carryover from the vampire followers who were still flourishing in Eastern Europe at the time that Physiology arose. Indeed, the hollow tubes used to suck up the blood are probably modeled after the incisors of the vampire bat.

The purpose of all of these sacrifices is to ward off disease, illness, and old age both for members of the cult and for the wider society around them. This is made clear from the frequent association of Laboratories with Hospitals. It is made even clearer from an annual rite in which each cultist writes a sacred confession and sends it to the capital of his country. The confession first begins by a terrifying description of the scourges and afflictions that the sacrifices are intended to cure. It then goes on to a section called Background where a rationale is presented as to how the sacrifices will alleviate the terrible conditions that have just been described. Then follows a long passage called Progress where the sacrificer humbly laments his failure to have already achieved his goal. This is always done in guarded ritual language lest any but the cognoscenti get their hands on the document. Finally, the confession ends with a plea for the entire nation to make 'a money sacrifice' to provide the cultists with the wherewithal to buy more sacrificial animals and portent machines in order to continue his efforts to restore the right relation of man to his sacred order.

[madefate]

A letter is delivered to Vepar's estate, along with a hand-drawn approximation of the estate itself, clearly done from memory. The handwriting on the letter is elegant and practiced, clearly carefully done. "My dear aunt Vepar, I regret to inform you that I will be unable to attend on the requested date as I am no longer allowed outside the palace at this time. I do apologize; I was very much looking forward to seeing you as well as your estate again. In an effort to make up for the lack of my presence, I have attempted to recreate it from memory as well as I was able. Though I am unable to venture forth from the palace, I do hope I will be able to see you soon. Your loving nephew, Stolas" / @helldustedstories

The light filtering through the glass walls of Vepar's solarium is the muted, deep blue green of Envy, comforting and all consuming. Her schedule is not so full that she can't take a few long moments to luxuriate before going through her daily messages. One of her sirens has dutifully left a pile of missives for her and Vepar has taken them to her vanity - the glass in the mirror occasionally flickering, as if it is more liquid than solid, and glazed with a pearlescent sheen.

When she finds the letter - plain, but on the thick cardstock that speaks of money - Vepar lingers on the handwriting on its face. She has her guess, and her confirmation when she unearths a letter, and its accompanying drawing. A fond smile pulls at her lips at the careful strokes that unerringly depict her estate - is that not just like him, so thoughtful. So talented.

Her smile wanes, though, as she reads through what Stolas has sent her, scanning the paper over a few times before she is satisfied she has thoroughly exhumed the meaning between the lines. Only then does she take her time thinking through her reply, fetching a pen and paper at once.

❝ My Darling Nephew,

Your words are enough to brighten my day, though your presence is that much sweeter. I am so sorry to hear that you will not be able to visit for some time; your apologies are not necessary. I understand that this is a crucial time for any young Goetia, though, of course, if there are other matters holding you back, you needn't apologize for them either.

You remain as talented and thoughtful as ever, little pearl. I shall save this, in the hopes that the artist will return one day for a visit and sign his work. In exchange, you will find with this a parcel. The hand mirror within is forged with the waters I have personally cursed, both of Hell and the world above. Your gifts are star touched and often leave you in the future, but you may find that, if you focus, you may be able to see more of the present that is beyond your reach.

Do not forget that every moment in this lifetime is simply that - a moment. If you look to the stars, you will find hope. And if you look to the waves, you will find me.

Until I see you again, all my love,

Vepar ❞

There have been many times over her very long life that have seen Vepar wanting nothing more than to drag her nails through Paimon's face, dipping them in poison, making her brother feel the agony that he seems to float above. This is no exception, but she has not come this far by caving to rash impulses. Instead, she neatly packages her scrying mirror and sends it off, knowing that Stolas will read between the lines and perhaps begin learning the art himself.

Then, she neatly and primly picks up another sheet of paper, this emblazoned with her royal seal, and writes, channeling her fury into cleverness.

❝ Brother,

You have become quite a stranger to me these past decades, though I respect the responsibilities on your shoulders. As always, I continue to follow your example and busy myself with work as well. But let us not forget how important it is to confer with each other, to ensure that those we serve are well supported.

As such, I will be visiting on business within the next few weeks. Provide me the times you are free, and I will accommodate your schedule.

Yours in Fealty,

Vepar ❞

Vepar knows how to play the game, but faking her subservience to that narcissistic blowhard makes her skin crawl more than it had with her late husband. She sends this one off clinically before retreating to her moon pool.

The moment her body slices through the water, adapting and growing the fins and gills that feel more natural than anything else, she feels a modicum of peace return to her. If she is going to start spinning some puppet strings, she is going to need to recharge her magic.

[blackbat05]

You’re the best to me

Dad Shangqi x Mom Reader

A/N: Well! This idea came out pretty quickly! I guess some of these experiences are what I experienced with my dad and I thought hey, why not spread some joy into these fics? It may be a bit different from what I originally planned but I really hope that you guys like it!🙇🏽‍♀️ <University Blues> is kinda like a prequel to this?

Genre: PG 13

Warnings: Rude parents, subtle racism in between the lines (please everyone, in this difficult time, we could treat one another nicely) and if you consider Shangqi absolutely adoring his little Princess a warning and just being a supportive Sports Dad in general than suree haha👍🏽

The arena was filled with noise as the Xu family stepped in. Little Xu Xiayi was clearly nervous as she gripped her father’s hand tightly. It was natural of course, because she would be competing in her first competition.

Shangqi bends down, adjusting his daughter’s taekwondo uniform. ‘How we feeling?’ Placing his hand against her heart he gasps dramatically for god measure, ‘Wow there’s a train in there!’ It did work for a few seconds as he manages to elicit a tiny smile.

‘You nervous?’

‘A little,’ Xiayi fiddles with her belt. How he wished he could take away the nerves for his baby girl. But if there was one thing he learnt from his own father, once you’re on the stage, you have to learn how to handle the nerves. Still he was aware that his girl was only 7 years old and was just starting out in competitive martial arts.

‘Baobei, look at me.’ He sees her brown eyes that she had inherited from him. ‘Whatever the result may be, as long as you gave it your all, me and your mama will be very proud of you.’

You bend down, huddling together with your two favorite people. ‘Baba is right, whatever the outcome, we know you tried your very best!’ In an effort to make Xiayi less nervous, you squeeze your baby in a big bear hug. Just then her number is called with another girl who was at least half a head taller.

‘Go Xiayi!’ You cheered, giving her a good luck kiss while Shangqi fist bumps her small hands. As she walks away, you notice Shangqi smiling to himself.

‘What’s in there mister?’ You teased. ‘Sad to see your little treasure finally being free?’

Your husband rolls his eyes as he slings his arm across your shoulder, trying to find seats among the other parents in the stands. ‘You wish. As long as I’m alive, Xiayi will never be free from me. I’m just happy to see Xiayi being such a strong girl. I was able to do something for her that I couldn’t do for my sister.’

You knew about the siblings’ rough childhood. ‘I’m sure Xialing would be proud of her niece. She told me she really wanted to come but something held her up back in Macau. She sends her best.’

The two of you manage to find pretty decent seats near where Xiayi was competing. And it looks like both the girl’s parents came too. Let’s just say you didn’t like the haughty looks on their faces. Still, you and Shangqi remained civil.

The match was more intense than you expected. And you felt yourself glowing with pride seeing how Xiayi matched up against the girl. As the two of you settled into your seats, more curious parents came by to see who was this unknown wonder kid. A mom with two other kids in tow tells you that Xiayi’s opponent is the number two seed in the draw.

But you knew Shangqi and you couldn’t agree with him more - matches were meant to have upsets. Seeding was just another thing of the past.

Throughout the match, both girls couldn’t break away. Until now. Xiayi manages to get a well-aimed kick at her head, helping her to break away from the tied score.

Time-out. The two went to the benches below the stands, taking much needed sips of water. Shangqi motions for me to stay put as the other girl’s parents rush to her. Xiayi needs to stay focused.

Just then, the girl’s father makes a comment to his daughter that causes your blood to rise in temperature. ‘Hurt her if you have to. Make sure that Chinese girl doesn’t stand a chance.’

Your head whips to Shangqi. He’s heard it too and boy, you have never seen him that pissed off before. But he won’t blow up now. For Xiayi, he must stay cool. He still tells her one thing before she gets back on the map.

‘Stay cool. Do what you’ve been doing.’

You could not bear the intensity that was unfolding in front of your eyes. For god sake this was just a children’s match! Shutting your eyes, you lean into your husband, praying for the best. You prayed that your little baby would show those arrogant assholes that they were wrong. That they should not have messed with the daughter of a martial arts master.

‘Babe, you don’t want to miss this.’ Shangqi nudges you, giving you the confidence you needed to see it through.

And Xiayi’s done it. She’s managed to do a roundhouse kick to the girl’s chest plate, taking home the win.

‘XU XIAYI!!!’ You grabbed Shangqi, jumping up and down in joy. Your girl had just caused a major upset in her very first tournament.

If you were ecstatic, Shangqi was over the freaking moon. He flew down the steps of the stands, letting Xiayi run into his arms before lifting her up and attacking her in kisses.

‘Hey! Hahaha! Baba stop! It tickles!’ You smile fondly at the wonderful sight in front of you. Suddenly, all these fears that Shangqi had of not being a good father, becoming like his dad who was filled with nothing but hatred just went out of the window at this very moment.

A loud crash is heard behind the father-daughter duo. Xiayi’s opponent throws her bag down in anger, storming ahead of her mother who is left to pick up her forgotten bag as the father walks beside to appease his own daughter. He sees the three of you celebrating and decides to continue to make the parade of uncalled comments. Shangqi tells you to take Xiayi away first.

‘She got lucky you know? No small sized Asian brat can beat our champ.’ Shangqi wonders, he wouldn’t exactly seek his father for advice but what would he do? He decides to walk forward, extending a hand. The other man is puzzled that Shangqi didn’t flip out completely but eventually takes his hand.

Shangqi sees the two of you from the corner of his eyes. No one insults his family and gets away with it. No one will undermine his daughter’s efforts because she’s different from others. With that in mind, he attacks every pressure point that he was taught, refusing to let the other hand go. Obviously the man couldn’t do anything as his daughter was watching this standoff, ‘Daddy what are you doing! Let’s go!’

‘Hold on a second hon-’ He leans forward, possibly to beg Shangqi to release his hand before it gets severed due to blood loss. But Shangqi beats him to it, ‘If I ever hear you say anything like that three feet within my daughter and wife you son of a bitch, your hands won’t be the one in pain.’

The man nods meekly, on the verge of crying out loud. Once Shangqi lets him go, the obnoxious family got out of the arena faster than you could say ‘Cheese’.

‘Baba! That was so cool! You’ve got to teach me that so that I can teach the boys in my school a lesson not to pick on me and Jenny!’ Xiayi runs into him, wrapping her small arms around his waist. He turns to you for answers only for you to mouth, she knew.

Although Xiayi was just a kid, but she was very perceptive. For now, Shangqi doesn’t want that incident interrupting his kid’s moment of glory. So he settles with a, ‘Sure baobei, baba will teach you one day.’ He bobs her crinkled nose.

You decide to interrupt. ‘Now I usually don’t allow this, but who wants boba?’

At this moment, you wondering if you were raising one or two children. ‘Last one out of here is a dumpling!’ Shangqi pretends to sprint ahead with Xiayi running after her father, leaving you behind.

How blessed were you, when this man popped into your life. All because you ran into him on a basketball court years ago?

With Xiayi now, there will definitely be ups and downs, but you felt that as long Shangqi was there with you, nothing felt too much.

A/N: Omg I have no idea how this turned out from the idea in my head HAHA😬 I hope it’s alright! Not an expert in taekwondo or martial arts in general so I tried to rack some basic information that is buried deep in my brain. As always, like and comment if you wish and thank you for reading!❤️

Special shout-out to @wint3r-h3art @crazycookiecrumbles @ntlmundy for encouraging me to write this piece that I had in my brain within such a short span of time! I thought that maybe you would like to read it the moment it comes out🙆🏽‍♀️

[siriusmydeer]

out of my league

sirius black x gender neutral!reader

summary: the hardships of silently, and mutually, pining for your best friend.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: insecurity, self doubt, mentions of sirius’ family/child abuse, kissing, swearing, angst if you squint, trust issues, mentions of crying, insinuation of toxic coping mechanisms, mentions of trauma, angry love confession <3

note: request.

you were utterly eye capturing, almost enticing like no other. the flutter of your lashes, the flick of your hair, the compassionate aura you were completely soaked in could make peers turn their heads to gape at you.

the way sirius’ eyes recurrently shone towards your figure in any juncture the glint in his eyes were seemingly divergent, something unlike any marauder had ever glimpsed upon was the way sirius had continuously gaped at you. it was like his irises could transfigure into minuscule hearts that just pulsed at the beat of his erratic heart rate, when and wherever your presence was known.

his irises were quite fairly distinct, wrapped in solicitude differentiating from the emerald warped family, clouded with malicious intentions, that he had been born into, the decision of the sorting hat deciding his fate now cascading into the world of vermillion and gold rather than the opposing green.

his heart had always been a pure essence, frequently desiring the best for his mates, and quite merely anyone around him. but he had predominantly distasted for anything swell that was bound to your path.

since the paramount of the first potions class he had shared with you at the brooding age of eleven, sirius had unmistakably decided that you were crucial wherever he was in life. even you were eleven years old hastily copying potions notes, with your scrawny, and utterly messy first year hand writing, scribbling down the ingredients for a wiggenweld potion.

with even just a glimpse of your poor handwriting, he knew.

that was the first time sirius black truly felt seen was by the fact that you had absentmindedly taken notice to his confused demeanour on whether you were suppose to five or six lion fish spines. without a peep of a sentence you slid over your parchment in his direction, silently helping the boy.

and then, he really knew that kindness in others could be shown in the most silent ways.

you taught him.

the second time sirius black felt completely transparent to your eyes was when that pesky vermillion letter barked ‘utter nonsense’ in your opinion, on how much he had failed the noble house of black in his second year.

he felt bare, someone had grown to know about his family. he was embarrassed and ashamed, yet you encased him in your arms with the small stroke of your hand on his back once you had found somewhere private. you were completely un-judgmental, and he knew there was a place for you in his heart.

when the letter had finally stopped yapping rather than questioning him, you took the opposing route and simply ripped the letter up till it was meritless clutter onto the wooden table, he was tremendously confused, but almost in awe of your actions, furthur paying no mind from the harsh words of walburga black.

by the time similar occurrences had arisen in later years you had already become the best of friends along with three other boys. the three remaining as a boisterous bespectacled boy, a clumsy book-ridden furtive werewolf, and a stunted naive bloke.

the relationship feigning between you and the other boys had remained the same path of platonic it had walked upon for the past several years. the relationship not ultimately changing heavily since the peak of third year, the nice stone brick of puberty and changes hitting you all in the face. your feelings changing and developing as well at the other boys.

remus was in your eyes, your brother. the familiar caring and protective demeanour that had been revealed quite frequently, especially around possible romantic interests in your life; but you paid no mind to them because they simply weren't the brunette gryffindor you had clandestinely yearned for. 

james could be seen as one of your closest friends, along with marlene and lily two of your familiar friends that were placed in the repetitive house of gryffindor. you had both fallen back on each other when times were particularly dreary, the trust between one another never feigning.

peter was— well peter. he was there, he chuckled at your jokes, he made efforts to hang along with everyone but he had frequent moments were he was moderately distant from the rest of the group.

but that didn’t make anyone less close.

around the time fifth year had stricken around in ‘75, this was the challenging time where more people had gotten into the romantic aspect of their teenage lives. suddenly blooming relationships as well as crushing on their schoolmates. every time the glimpse of red tresses entered the great hall, james was off in a sprint. remus as-well, being particularly flirty with fabian prewett.

but almost every recurrent day you were hit with the bound of releasing butterflies in your abdomen from sirius’ cyclical affections that were roaming the thin line of intimate and platonic. the way his sudden burly bicep would sit on the curvature of your shoulders, and the aroma of leather and potent cologne would overwhelm your senses every time he was near.

the digits of his hand fluffing through your hair in a playful disposition, the silly faces you both would partake making at each other in charms. more so, then rather listening to professor flitwick drone on about creating legs on teacups.

your hearts likewise silently pinned for each other’s meticulous affections, his mind almost begging for the times you would articulate the small nose scrunch  in his direction after a particularly funny joke he had made, or the way you would amusingly punch his shoulder recurrently when you were bored.

there were so many insolent details the both of you had partaken in noticing from each other, but it simply wasn’t enough for foolish and prideful teenagers. neither of your had gathered courage, more-so disdain that kept your mutual feelings away under lock and key, rather scowling or chuckling at someone when they asked if you had been in a relationship due to the fear of rejection that lingered.

it was almost obvious with the lovesick gaze that was shared between the two of you, but clearly the blear of friendship overwhelmed the small glimpses. 

amos diggory was courteous, he tended to the feelings of others, his mind was truthfully sharp and he was at the top of his classes, never acquiring one detention in his years at hogwarts. in the view point of the marauders he was most-likely a bore, goody two shoes and maybe even the teachers pet. but most girls pinned for boys like him, rather than foolish boys who had more voice cracks in a sentence then actual words.

both of you and amos shared the classes of herbology, care of magical creatures and muggle studies. so even though he was recurrently a ‘golden boy’ he wasn’t bad company to keep.

you had been frequent partners, a small wave or nod in the hallway if you saw each other, the both of you spending much time in the library together when studying for classes. so when he had gathered the courage that sirius rather failed to exhibit, and politely asked if he could take you out to hogsmeade on a date you weren’t completely bewildered.

so when you asked for maybe some time to think, his courtesy got him plenty far in life. he showed you the uttermost respect, and accepted with the response, ‘take as long as you need.’

which most likely meant, ‘take your time but not too long i’m impatient.’ but the gesture was greatly appreciated by you.

the day following the inquiry of the date, the alleged word of y/n y/l/n and amos diggory possibly going out reputedly caught wind of the meddlesome hogwarts students. around the time period for defence against the dark arts, gilderoy lockhart was gossiping upon himself with dirk creeswell in one of the most silent corridors of hogwarts, the one sirius black happen to use to cut his classes when he felt particular fatigued or he hadn't shared the course with you. 

it just so happen that his ears caught the words, ‘mate, it’s so obvious that amos and y/n are going to hogsmeade. she won’t keep his offer standing long.’

this resulted in the stubborn emotions of sirius being swirled into dismal and animosity, this concluding his poor way of managing his emotions and jumping to conclusions. which only meant he had cynical passive behaviours for the rest of the day, soaking up his feelings like a sponge and not speaking a word of his issues to another soul.

since the very commencement of your friendship with the boy you had slowly accumulated to his behaviours, and the stubborn wit in your heart blearing like alarms telling you to help him along side his possible problem.

but unfortunately that only resulted in a frivolous argument between you both in the midst of his common room over a topic you were unknown too. the two rigid teenagers fairly headstrong, ignoring each other for the rest of the restless night to be left with their thoughts.

ironically the next day had been a quidditch game awaiting to play with the opposing teams, hufflepuff and gryffindor. the similar seekers going head to head for the hast golden snitch, known as alicia woo and amos diggory.

as a quidditch beater since second year you had never faltered when attending a gryffindor quidditch gamer practice in support of your two best mates, that happen to include the overcast bleary day of today. you were irritated and heavily annoyed, but you went to be left without an answer. sirius had been soaring through the sky what looked like to be tremendously anxious, or stressed. the hit of his bat against the bludger almost seeming hostile, recurrently in amos diggorys direction.

after the golden team had won the head to head match with a whopping seventy points, including the snitch they had started to clear the field ready for a celebratory party. you could practically hear james’ groan from across the pitch whilst the scarlet team had now started started to stride off the pitch in a slumber state. sirius glimpsing around suddenly at your waltzing figure in a hast rush towards him, the adrenaline of the game still swishing through his mind and the recurrent thought to stay away from you incase his exasperated words admitted too many things.

“hey!” you first shouted, grabbing onto the knit of his quidditch sweater, the first few drops of rain subsequently hitting the viridescent grass slowly. you waited for a moment, his body in place from your grip but his gaze strict on the moistening grass. the longer you awaited in response the more frequent the drops splat right onto the both of you under the dreary clouds. 

“okay, what, your ignoring me now? are you a child?” you spoke abruptly while sneering, you voice breaking the apprehensive silence again, your thunderous and elevated tone mixing along with the small patter of rain begging to drench the both of you as you waited.

“answer me!”

“why can’t you just leave it alone, for once in your life you don’t need to know everything!” he exclaimed in pent up irritation, his hand pushing through his sweaty and mangled tresses in awaiting agony. “no, i won’t. so what are you so afraid of telling me for merlins sake!” you clamoured back in the same feeling of irritation for being shut out from his feelings, you had always respected him, as well as his responsive choices. but, this wasn’t a matter of him genuinely wanting space, rather than not wanting to fix the problem because he couldn’t bare to spit out a sentence and leave his pride behind for a quarter of a second.

unfortunately as every platonic, or romantic relationship endures there is a matter of differences. the platonic relationship you had shared with sirius was not always the simplest thing to endure.

the hefty bumps along the way were bothersome, and tremendously provoking. the occurrence of you blaring at sirius to stop hiding himself with barrier around his emotions from his past traumas covered with passive aggressive comments and suppressed antagonism wasn’t irregular.

the hardships of faults was a remaining learning process for the both of you.

“i love you, but i can’t have you! is that what you wanted to know so badly?! that you could run away in the sunset with diggory!” he spat his words crudely, his words rapid as he spoke, the second his voice rung through your ears the subconscious widen of your eyes could’ve ranged from speaking absolutely nothing to a million words.

“i just want you to be happy..., even if it’s not with me.” he sighed over the boisterous lightning strike, gazing bashfully at his feet.

“you, you insolent, foolish, dull-witted git!” you exasperated your words while pushing your finger into his chest in fury of his arrogance, your voice had been almost boisterous over the continuous downpour amongst the both of you alone on the quidditch pitch. a similar ash fog now roaming around as you displeasurnedly argued. 

“it’s you, it always has been! maybe for once if you weren’t the most dramatic, and fairly blind person on earth you would see that!” you huffed finally prying away your stubborn disdain away from your mind for a moment, opting to release your repressed feelings after years of nail chewing, heart strumming anticipation. 

he gaped at you absolutely befuddled with his jaw going completely slack in your view point, his eyebrows suddenly sinking to the middle of his forehead in colossal bewilderment. you, his alluring, astonishingly beautiful, way out of his league best friend actually reciprocated those yearning and aching feelings he spent nights tossing and turning over. 

he saw the way your eyes narrowed at him in prospect, now with this new found confession what was he going to do?

he opted to move a pace closer to you, watching the way you throughly pushed your tresses behind your ears from the sopping rain drowsing upon the both of you. deciding for his his feverishly warm hands to encase around the apples of your cheeks, your thoughts rapid yet still adamantly confused about what he was doing.

was this the moment, was this finally happening?

the vertebrae in his spine tilted whilst he leaned closer to your face, your eyes anxiously fluttering shut when his lips finally grazed your own; not quite a kiss but ready to occur in any awaiting moment. the nails of your fingers grazing against the damp knit of the vermillion sweater in an pursuit to bring him significantly closer till you felt the damp knit of his vermillion sweater against your chest.

his lips finally slotted with your own, he wasn’t sure if it was the water descending down from the sky or if it was your strawberry flavoured chapstick that made the kiss so effortless but he paid almost no mind too it. the way his lips were caught between yours in the feverish torrent. the grasp on his waist only increased as the seconds ticked by. his hands subtly tilted your head, completely engrossed in the feeling of your lips. the way the significance of your lips had a hold over his entire being from the congested tension that had been swarmed through every trickle of you your senses since the day you saw the shag of his outgrown hair in third year. 

it was almost absurd how one person could make him feel so many profusions of emotions. sometimes he had the urge to kiss you senseless till your lips were intently puffed, the days where he wanted to bury his face in the bend of your shoulder and weep his woes away, the days where he was itching to shout at you because of the ways you picked apart every insecurity you ever had that he didn't even believe you could have. 

but he loved it, he loved you, he has you.

your lips departed for a second, the mutual puffs of air escaping from yours lips whilst stricken still by the events that had just occurred. you both chuckled for a moment at the situation. 

an incredibly not solemn confession in the downpour of the rain. 

“you love me?” you questioned honestly, elation slightly lingering in your tone. but more so in question of all the abstinent years you had spent longing for the other now coming to an end, the end of an era and the start of another.

“yeah, i do. i love you.”

taglist: @fific7 @wisedreamcatcher @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @msmb @fangouria @five-cups-of-coffee @dracofknmalfoy @emmaev @serenitywilderness @artemis1orion @falling-loki @siriusbarnesslut @inglourious-imagines @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch

[sing-sideblog]

Update on story and requests

Hello everyone.

So lately, I haven't been posting much on this blog. And I've gotten pretty backed up on requests, both for writing and art.

I have seen your requests but the time I received most of them was when I was preparing for graduation. So I haven't really gotten the chance to start some of them. But now that I've gotten graduation out of the way, I'm starting to work on requests.

Story and headcanon requests may take a while, while most of my art requests will be sketched out rather than made digital. This is mainly to save up on time.

---------

Now as for the continuation of my sing fanfic, Aftermath. I've been stuck on the 4th chapter. And I even got to thinking maybe I should rewrite the story all together.

The main reason is because the first part, the gala, was originally meant to be a lighthearted short fic that would focus on not only buster's trauma but nooshy's past as well. But one thing led to another and I gave y'all angst. The more I wrote the chapters, the more I would get sudden new ideas that I thought would fit the story better and move the plot even further.

Most of these ideas are focused around Vi's character. When I first got the idea for her, I wanted her to be someone from Nooshy's past who would've left a negative impact on her. The only problem was, at the time, i wasn't sure how that would happen. I was desperate to post more chapters before I got pulled into graduation stuff, so I just made Vi a character who's mindset seemed to be built on murder.

Looking back at the story, I don't like how I introduced her or the potential conflict that her and Nooshy would have.

I also didn't like how the confrontation between Buster and Jimmy came out. It honestly felt rushed and didn't seem as sincere as I was hoping it would be. I didn't really put much effort into Jimmy's story at the time. I guess I just wanted an excuse for Jimmy to save Buster in the later chapter.

Another thing is that I also want to focus more on my other ocs and their connections with the theater cast in the story. I only really focused on Jenna and Vi, but the others, I haven't really focused on. So if anything, I would make a few drabbles that take place before the events of the main story that focuses on the other ocs, such as Sadie, Ethan, and Noah.

So for now, until I figure out what I want to do with this fanfic, it'll be put on hiatus. If I decide to rewrite the story, then the other parts I posted will be deleted on tumblr only. The chapter parts will still remain on archiveofourown.org, but I will post a chapter explaining the situation. But it's only if I decide to rewrite the story.

Until the next post, have a great day!

[stopeatingwhales]

playing cards x damon albarn

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE OMG OK. hope you guys enjoy it!!!! I love arrogant damon sorry not sorry <3

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: 2.339

@damonfuckingalbarn this is 4 u!!!! <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Have this, you’ll like it far much more than what you’re drinking.”

Diverting my gaze from the beverage encapsulated in my palm, I met my view with the mysterious voice that had beckoned in my direction. “Excuse me?” I said, first landing my glare on his ethereal orbs, spheres that were so magnificent that I had to attempt a double-take; the idiosyncratic shades, merged together to create a masterpiece of different blues, as if they were small fragments of the water from most pure oceans, exemplifying the ideation of eyes that engulf you in at the instant - simply gazing into his orbs was the token I had needed to be entirely enthralled by his presence. Perhaps his gaze was too intense, too enticing, leading me on to trail my stare to admire the more gorgeous head of hair, which looked as if it hadn’t been brushed, though that portrayed its attractiveness. His face was beaming toward my direction, taking me aback slightly as I quickly ditched the sight of his face, drifting my sight to gawk at the two drinks clasped by his hands. “That looks like shit.”

A small scoff escaped his throat, evident that he was not expecting the abrupt attitude that had beckoned upon my lips. Slightly embarrassed at my dramatic remark, I adjusted my posture, accentuating such confidence that I had seemingly demonstrated so diligently with my demeanour. “Just try it.” he replied, placing one of the glasses on the dark wood counter, pushing it towards my direction lightly to prevent it from slipping off the glossy counter. Leaning my torso closer to the counter, I spent a couple seconds examining the contents of the unknown drink, it being something that I had never set my eyes upon.

Placing my original drink on the countertop, I nervously grasped the ambiguous drink that he had offered me, glancing back at him with an unsure expression illustrated on my features. In a way to reassure or encourage me, he nodded his head, resulting in me then taking a small sip to ease myself into the new flavour. Before the liquid had merely touched the back of my throat, I spat the contents back out into the glass. “That’s minging!” I choked, my face scrunching up in disgust. Focused on each move I was making, I felt his eyes continue to gawk at me as I attempted to rid the awful taste that lingered on my tongue by taking a lengthy sip of my pint, swallowing down the contents gleefully. Connecting my stare with his, I once again analysed his features, almost like my mind trying to discover what had been the true ideal that his beauty had enthralled me so rapidly just gaping at him. Perhaps I had over-emphasised his gorgeousness too much, though my doubts were denied as soon as my view had set upon his face once again. He had a smirk carefully illustrated at the side of his lip, curving the top of his cheek slightly, his face sculpted so delicately it urged the want to caress your finger against his skin, it conveying the impression that it was so soft, accentuating the prettiness of his facial features. Something inside me was itching towards the fact that he was somebody I knew, or at least somebody that I had seen somewhere, until it had clocked that he was from television, more specifically Top Of the Pops, last night. "You're that singer from that art school band, aren't you?" I questioned, my vision squinted together as I challenged my active recall abilities. “Damon isn’t it?”

"Wow, you know your music!" he laughed, edging his arm to rest on the counter. The stare orchestrated between us remained, as I left my mind to ponder over the common-knowledge of how men were like in bands. Aware of what he was going to solicit, and knowing that he would think it was going to be extremely easy, I had to prepare myself not to fall for it, no matter how good-looking or tempting the concept engulfed in my brain made it out to be. "Want to go out for dinner tomorrow?"

“No, sorry.” I bluntly replied, breaking the poignant eye contact to down the rest of my drink, slightly forcing the glass containing the beverage he had offered me, back to him. If I had my eyes lingering on his for any longer, I’d end up doing something I’d highly regret the next morning.

“Why not?” he quizzed, bewildered by my sudden response. Clearly he had never had a woman decline his offer before, or was definitely not expecting it after he had gone head to head and won against the second biggest band in the country the night previous. So arrogant.

“Because I don’t want to?” I replied, slightly amused by how perplexed he had gotten. Darting my eyes around the dimly-lit room, my gaze fixated on a booth consisting of boys that, from my vague memory, believed were his band members. Knowing that he was still looking at me, I allowed a smirk to fall on my lips as I thought of what to say next. “I've actually got my eye on that guy over there," I mumbled, pointing towards the familiar booth of boys, my index finger lingering on the tall, lanky boy, whose hair looked as soft as the petals of a newly-bloomed rose. Granting my finger to saunter for a while, it directed enough time for Damon to swivel his head around to see whomever I was speaking about. "Alex, isn't it?"

Switching my focus back to look at him, I noticed his jaw clench at my remark, his orbs dawdling over the three boys who had been engrossed in conversation. Feeling the smirk on my face widen, I relished in the sensation of battering his ego - even if it was just slightly. A small laugh escaped his throat as he locked his gaze with mine, clicking his tongue as he sneered, understanding what I was trying to do to him. It was a forced chuckle, most likely portrayed out of annoyance,  “Look, I just think you’re really pretty, alright?”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I felt my stomach ignite at his frustration towards my obnoxiousness. Butterflies were blooming in my stomach as a certain heat flushed over my cheeks, my body mindful that I couldn’t keep up with such a persona for a much longer time. As well as this, it would potentially drive him away, which at this rate I didn’t want him to do, so I thought of the best possible solution to bring his hopes up, reaching to the ground underneath the barstool to grasp my bag, taking out a deck of cards. “Let’s play snap.” I exclaimed, beginning to shuffle the card deck.

“And you just carry those around do you?”

“It’s fun to play.” I replied, splitting the deck and then sliding him his share.

“Can I just get you a drink?” He groaned, though a small smile had perched on his lips at the irregularity of the situation. A girl is asking him to play cards after she simply rejected him, at a bar.

“You already did, Damon, and it was shit.” I spat back, fixing my eyes on his once again. He looked slightly offended at the insolence I demonstrated towards his efforts, which, for some reason, sank my heart a little. “If you win this game, I'll give you a second chance.”

“Deal,” He beamed, the signature devilish grin of his painted on his lips once again. “Might as well get you that drink now.” he added, his arrogance seeping through his teeth.

As we began placing our cards in the middle of the table, one after another, the environment was tense as to when two cards of the same origin would land upon each other. It was funny, I had gone out tonight to blow off steam from the stresses that work had offered me the past week, and somehow I had landed myself playing a game of cards with undoubtedly the most famous musician in Britain at the moment. “I’m not falling for it, you know.” I said, avoiding his gaze.

"Then why are you doing playing cards with me, love?" he interrogated, the sneer on his lips evident by his lustrous tone. He was right; his obvious pretentiousness, and egocentrism only edged me towards loving his company just that much more, which had disgracefully increased my attraction to him, but of course I wasn’t going to admit that, hell, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to fall for it, even though that was exactly what I had been doing this entire time - sinking down a hole of allurement from his persona that panned something inside of me that I wasn’t able to pinpoint on. Pop star effect, I suppose.

Completely silenced by his comment, I felt a certain radiance tease it’s way to my cheeks once again, edging me into humiliation even more to the fact that he could tell the effect his words were having on me - the sly grin on his features was felt in the tension shared between us. In an endeavour to shy away my embarrassment, I dragged out my packet of Marlboro cigarettes, snatching one from its packaging and lighting it before placing another card down on the deck that had been piling up since we had started. Inhaling sharply, I allowed the cancerous smoke to escape my lungs, my body adorning the relaxed feeling that seeped through after. “Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Why not? Your pack’s full!”

Pausing my movements before taking another hit from the roll of tobacco, a smirk lingered on my lips as I let my head rest on my palm, keeping my body upright. "Why? Those songs of yours not selling much?" I mocked, blowing another whiff of smoke into his face, the stunned expression held on his face only exhilarating me more in what felt like... control, though from the way he had been acting, I knew that such power was not going to last for a long while. "Put a card down, for goodness sake."

Scoffing, he followed my demand, though the card he placed down was the exact same as the one I placed down before, ensuing his hand slamming suddenly on top of the card deck, my mouth agape as I realised that he had won. “Look who won!”

A beam covered my face as I shook my head, watching him grab the attention of the bartender, asking for another drink that once again, I hadn’t heard of before. Once the bartender was done preparing the beverage, Damon passed it over to me, another grin captured on his expression. Sighing, I discarded the remains of my cigarette before taking a sip of another, unknown drink, the feeling of déjà vu hitting me as I had enraptured myself in the same situation when we had first spoken. "For fucks sake Damon, this tastes worse than the last one."

"More for me then, isn't it?" he grinned, my mind now aware that he had simply ordered such an appalling drink to agitate me. Be that as it may, he was aggravating, and took delight into making one’s time horribly spent, there was something about him that kept me latched onto him. Perhaps it was his glowing features, which were so enticing that it blinded me into thinking that he was the only other person in the room, and the only other person that I could set any fragment of attention towards.

"Stop pissing me off, you twat." I mumbled, looking at my bag as I placed the card deck back inside, it not proving much use to the situation anymore.

"You could quite easily just walk away, if I’m pissing you off this much.” he said, his head tilted to the side as his eyes lingered on me, practically forcing me to connect our gazes once again. “Doors just there, love." he uttered, beckoning his hand towards the timber door that divided us between the streets.

"Why would I leave when I'm getting free drinks?" I asked, trying to maintain whatever control I had over the situation, which had been deemed to have slipped out of my grasp at this given moment. The tension between us had been alleviating faster than it had been before, as we began reaching the climax of the encounter.

"You're not liking them though, are you?" he replied, face beginning to draw dangerously close to mine, his eyes flicking from my eyes to my lips every couple of seconds, contemplating how to end the situation. It was fully in control with him now; I was merely wrapped around his measly little finger, and he knew it. Our noses grazed ever-so-slightly on one another's as I felt his breath fan onto my cheeks - all I had craved for at this point was to attach my lips onto his, my breathing quickening as the realisation of just how close our bodies were to one another. "Just admit it, you're loving this." he mumbled.

"Am not." I whispered, my eyes staring at his lips as shuffled closer and closer to mine. We were both aware that what I had said was a lie, but my stubbornness wasn't ready to let that slide yet. Just as I thought we were going to connect lips, he darted his head away rapidly, the movement so swift I hadn't come to realize until a couple seconds afterwards, my cheeks now reddened to the point that I was almost convinced I had a fever.

"You fell for it, lovely." he grinned, placing a white slip on my lap, decorated with numbers to which I assumed were in relation to his telephone number. "Let me know when you're free!" he exclaimed, before waltzing off to the booth where his friends had, leaving me completely stunned, and exactly where I knew would be - absolutely encapsulated by the man known as Damon Albarn.

[bookofmirth]

You Are My Almanac - elucien 1

Summary

Elain Archeron finds herself stuck in an engagement that her mother had arranged before her untimely death. Elain is determined not to like the man and to create a solitary life leading her household the way she wants, but her fiancé has an annoying habit of making her like him.

AO3 | tags: arranged marriage, Regency-era inspired but not faithful. These two are wary of one another and I got a bit snarky when I wrote this first chapter because I want it to be fun, not super angsty. Oh also the title is from the song almanac by Purity Ring.

Elain had perfected the art of staring out a carriage window without being jostled around like a dice in one of the cups her sisters used when playing one of the games played with guests after dinner. Their mother disapproved of the games, of course, but that hardly mattered when all it took to please her was an appropriately humble “yes ma’am” whenever it was required. And it took Elain quite an effort to remain upright and steady in the carriage as it traveled over the country roads, but it was suffer a sore back and look lovely as possible for her current rendezvous, or suffer the mortification. Elain would much rather maintain appearances. At least for now.

Because now, Elain could say “yes ma’am” or “please, maman”, until she was blue in the face, and it would be for nothing, since her dear mother had upheld her promise to see Elain engaged to a fine, wellbred young man with a suitable income, but then she had died before bothering to see what Elain thought of the man, or even introducing them.

For Elain was on her way to meet her betrothed. The word rolled off the tongue, betrothed, or it had, when she was still a child and had imagined that she would have any choice in the matter. When the word still held a sense of romance and promise.

And Elain Archeron had found herself betrothed, that was certain, though it had happened quite without any influence or input from herself.

She had a vague idea of the kind of man she wanted to marry. Kind and considerate, tall, a handsome rider, with extensive property and an income that would support her in at least the style to which she was currently accustomed, if not better. Elain was firm in her belief that she wasn’t asking for much. If he were political minded then that might suit her even better, as she had always imagined hosting important people at her dinners, not just the Beddors from down the lane.

Who were the Vanserras, anyway? Elain had never heard of the name, had never seen it when she flipped through the pages of Burke’s Peerage, Baronetage, and Knightage, not to mention that the family lived very far away!

Or that might have been a complaint Elain would have lodged to her sisters, had they not also found themselves engaged and then married to men who lived in that part of the country which Elain had heard described as “lovely, in the right light and at certain times of year”.

Elain’s knowledge of the rest of the country was limited, to be sure. But she didn’t much like the idea of being thrust into a new home, with a man she didn’t know, in a town where she hadn’t even established a proper seamstress. It was important to find one who wouldn’t give her that look when she came in with tattered, muddy skirt hems. Her cheeks heated at the idea of her future husband scolding her about the zeal with which she engaged in her hobbies.

When the carriage came to an abrupt halt, Elain realized that Feyre had been talking for the last minute or so and Elain hadn’t caught a word. She looked at her sister, younger and yet more worldly than Elain ever hoped to be. Where Elain knew people, Feyre understood the bigger picture of what it took to survive.

She gave her sister a small smile and Feyre reached across the carriage to pat Elain’s hand.

“I’m sure he will be perfectly nice, dearest. And if he isn’t, there are plenty of ways of ensuring that your husband stays out of your hair. Not that I would need them.” Feyre said this last part with a small, secret smile.

Elain fought the urge to roll her eyes. “If it comes to that, I’ll be sure to come to you, Feyre. You are one of the lucky ones though, you know.” The door to the carriage opened and Elain held out her hand without a glance at the footman. “Not everyone is so lucky as to marry for love.”

The sisters stepped from the carriage, the gravel of the drive crunching under their shoes. Elain held a hand up to her forehead to shield the sun from her eyes. She was unable to take in the manor in one glance, and turned in a full circle to take in as much of the property as she could before meeting her fiancé and going inside her future home. To her doom.

At least this man, Lucien Vanserra, had a man to keep his grounds meticulous. The shrubbery had been cleverly chosen and the flowers were full of pollinating bees, which would make for interesting experiments in cross-pollination, though perhaps she might do something about the grove of fruit trees - they were too far away from the water source to be effective. And Elain wondered at the status of the fruit, how much of it went to use in the house and how much went to the local residents. Hopefully - Elain grimaced at the thought - it didn’t fall to the ground and go to waste.

Elain felt a tug at her elbow and turned to find Feyre, waiting with her head inclined to the door. The front door, underneath a large, elaborately-carved portico, where the first footman stood at attention, waiting to usher the women into the home. And to his left, a tall man with fiery red hair, tied back with a black ribbon, stood waiting to greet her.

Elain’s breath caught to see him. He was younger than she had expected. She wouldn’t have put it past her mother to bridle her with a septuagenarian if he had offered the right price. So that this man, this Mr. Vanserra, was at most ten years older than her… Elain was disappointed to find herself pleased. And he certainly was well-acquainted with a proper clothier, if the fit of his vest and trousers were any indication.

Feyre stepped forward first. “Lucien! It is so good to see you.”

Mr. Vanserra lowered his head slightly. “Lady Chevalier, thank you for visiting my home today. I hope that Rhysand is doing well.”

“’Lady Chevalier’ my eye, call me Feyre, Lucien.” She took his hands into her own and it seemed that he might have reciprocated her familiarity had Elain not been there. His eyes flicked to her and then back to Feyre, seeming to already be wary of how he appeared to her.

“Lucien, this is my sister, Elain.”

The rest of the greeting hung in the air and Elain could have tasted the words. Elain, your fiancée. Elain, the woman you have never met but who will share your bed. She nearly reddened at the thought and forced herself to pay attention to the situation at hand.

Lucien turned away from Feyre and took a step closer to Elain.

Elain curtsied. “Mr. Vanserra. You have a lovely manor.” And hopefully, I won’t see much of you in it, she added silently to herself.

Lucien lifted Elain’s gloved hand to his lips, pressing so softly that she wasn’t sure when it was over, if he had actually made contact. Wouldn’t have known it had happened, really, if not for the slight warming of her skin.

“Miss Archeron,” he said, bending at the waist, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Allow me to welcome you to my home.” His eyes alighted on hers as he said the words - my home - for it wasn’t their home yet. And they were both painfully aware that it would be.

Lucien extended his hand to gesture at the imposing double-doored entrance and stood upright.

Elain lowered her head slightly in deference. “Thank you for the welcome. The property really is lovely,” she couldn’t help adding. Lucien looked into her face with earnestness and she took note of the golden warmth of one eye, while the other was traversed by a brutal scar, one she wouldn’t have expected to see on a Lord of the peerage. “The grass is… very green.”

“Ah, yes,” Lucien responded. He took a step back and surveyed the lawn as if he hadn’t noticed its color before. “I had it specially grown. Just for its…. verdancy.”

Her hand fell to her side when Lucien let go of hers, and she momentarily forgot what to do with it. She glanced at Feyre, whose hands were clasped together in front of her waist, and Elain mirrored the posture.

“Well, ladies. I have had tea set out for us. I’m sure you could use some refreshment after your travels.”

Feyre made a small curtsy in response and Elain fell into line behind her.

The first footman hurried ahead of them and opened the front door. The interior of the home was a dark, yawning chasm.

And with that, Elain took a step forward, into the home of her future husband.

***

Thanks for reading! You may have noticed my tag list has disappeared. If you want to be on it again, even if months or years pass without an update, let me know! Sorry if you have requested in the past and intended to stay on it forever, I just figured that things change in the years since I started writing fanfic. 💕

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Six. 

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 13.8k

WARNINGS: sexual content

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

January 4, 2018 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. I…adore you so much.” 

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

Harry blushed. “I adore you, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” She nodded.

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

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

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

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

“Not gonna laugh, baby.”

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

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

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

“Harry, you’re too sweet.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, make me feel good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, he kept an optimistic attitude about their relationship. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, I’m not sure yet,” he answered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, love. How are you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.” 

“Miss everything about you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s definitely a promise, Luciana.” 

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

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

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

“Will do. I…adore you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luci?” 

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

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

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

“But…how-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was feeling everything all at once. 

And he fucking loved it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So many more to go. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm. You think so?” 

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

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

And Harry carried that advice everywhere he went. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing is your fault,” he objected. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe…” 

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

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

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

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

“I feel the same way.” He smiled. 

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

Harry smirked. “Noted.” 

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

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

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

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

April 27, 2018 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” She shook her head, and Audrey pressed the red button. 

“So, Luciana, I was informed this was your very first major film project. How do you feel about it?” Audrey questioned in a professional interviewer voice. 

“I-I feel very honored to be working in this film with so many people that I’ve watched on the screen growing up. This film has such an amazing crew and cast that it felt like family; and I learned so many things from this entire journey, so I’m very appreciative and grateful to be part of this.” She may have rambled a bit, but it was a solid and genuine answer. 

“Who are your inspirations that you look up to while being part of this business?” 

Luci thought for a moment, gathering the actors and actresses that popped in her head. “To name a few: Meryl Streep, Sandra Bullock—I had the honor of working with here—and Cillian Murphy, to name a few. I’ve also really loved and was always inspired by Giulia Stone. I loved all of the movies she did in the seventies, and she’s just so iconic and a legend that I will always admire.”

Audrey then asked about her upbringing—where the new and potential star grew up, and her past job on Broadway. 

“Broadway was also a dream of mine when growing up, and the atmosphere was insane. I loved every minute of it, and I left the building with so much adrenaline and energy every night because the audience was always so wonderful.” 

They then talked about her role for Miss Saigon, and Luci was reminiscent of her part before she stepped into the world that was filled with well-known actors and a big industry. In a way, she missed the Broadway universe, and for the first month of shooting for the film, she considered quitting and going back to Broadway as she felt like she wasn’t fit enough to be part of the job, but she pushed herself through (with the help of Harry and her family). She believed everything happened for a reason, and perhaps her time on Broadway was limited to what she’d expected because the film industry was calling her name. 

“Last question to wrap it up.” Audrey chuckled. “Do you have a lover? Anyone special out there that has your heart? These questions will be asked frequently, so might as well get used to them now.” The curiosity poured through the interviewer’s body, and portrayed in her exterior as her eyes bulged, lips curled in as her hand moved her phone closer to Luci, making sure to get her answer on record crystal clear with no chance to mumble or hide her answer. Luci didn’t like how she said the last sentence, like it was an obvious question to ask. 

For some prideful and egotistical reason, Luci didn’t want to fill her satisfaction, to fill the media’s curiosity in hopes to feed people the latest gossip and the inaccurate news. Sure, Luci wasn’t a big name, people barely looked twice at the mention of her name, but something inside of her didn’t want everyone to know what her personal or love life looked like; frankly because it wasn’t any of their business. 

Confidently, she subtly leaned her head a little closer to the speaker of Audrey’s phone before answering, “No, I don’t.” 

Audrey pressed the red button again to stop recording, and Luci would later on know that she made a big mistake saying that.

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, favorite moments and scenes! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be up next saturday!

[memeadonna]

The Kingdom of Roses

You are the princess of Rusika, a kingdom neighbouring Novoselic. When one of your government’s high ranking officials is taken as a political prisoner, your kingdom retaliates by taking some of your own -- and they just might be more than you bargained for. 

Hello Everybody! My name is Jess and I’ve been a longtime fan of Danganronpa, from around 2012 or 2013 when I first played the games. I wanted to try my hand at writing a reader insert for one of my favourite characters (and my first ever husbando), one Kazuichi Souda. This beautiful art really inspired me (I scoured high and low for an artist credit, but I couldn’t find one. If you know who drew it please let me know and I will give them the appropriate credit), and I wrote an x reader. I hope you all enjoy!  Warnings: This work contains NSFW not suitable for readers under 18. Please do not interact with this post if you are under 18. 

Monarchies were a dying form of government. Most countries had established parliaments by now, but the Kingdom of Rusika, where you were born, and a few neighbouring kingdoms held onto their royal families until the very end. Novoselic was one such kingdom, one that until a few days ago had been your ally. Your father – beloved king of Rusika – had sent one of his most trusted advisors to negotiate a trade deal with the Nevermind family, rulers of Novoselic.

That advisor had been captured and held at ransom for some unknown reason. The Novoselic Kingdom really had no idea what they were doing, did they?

Sonia Nevermind was someone you had grown up with. The two of you had never been friends, per se, but you understood one another. You were Princesses tasked with leading your kingdoms towards prosperity. Your countries were similar enough – they had once been one, but after a civil war in 926, the country had been divided in half. While Novoselic’s exports consisted of luxury goods – wine, chocolate, and cheese – Rusika’s were more practical. Your main exports were related to geothermal energy and associated technologies, or mining precious gems. Your country – the kingdom of roses – was building the future. Hers was stuck in the past, weighed down by stupid traditions.

Your father trusted you more than Sonia’s father trusted her, and so you had grown up with more responsibilities. You had learned early on the burdens of leadership, and eventually began to find her boring. You made sure she never caught on, always giving her your full attention whenever she rambled about her silly life and silly problems.

Both of your countries had hit economic booms, so what need was there to worry? Gah, her philosophy was so stupid.

Today you woke up to find that your father had arranged the kidnapping of two of Sonia’s closest friends. She had just graduated from the prestigious Hope’s Peak Academy, and had apparently invited her entire class to Novoselic to spend their last vacation celebrating.

It was strange of him to make such a decision without consulting you first. You were supposed to be queen of Rusika one day, and he always made sure you had a say in decisions. Today you were instructed to dress the part of a princess and come greet your guests. You were to show them hospitality and make them feel welcome. You might have kidnapped them, but you weren’t monsters. They would literally receive the royal treatment, and you were to be put in charge of them.

As your handmaidens helped you dress (corseting you, doing your hair and makeup, and fixing your jewelry could be a six-person job), you went over what you wanted to say to your prisoners. How the hell were you supposed to make them feel welcome?

You had never seen a person with two different coloured eyes before. You had also never seen a person with pink hair. Based on the way they looked at you, dripping in jewels and looking your part, you doubted they had seen Sonia in all of her glory yet. You smiled as you introduced yourself, trying your hardest not to look like you were studying them. You explained the situation to them, told them they were valuable political prisoners and would not be harmed or imprisoned as long as they behaved, and did not try to leave.

The man with two different coloured eyes called you a fiend, as well as many other dark names as he promised his Princess would come for him. The man with pink hair affirmed “Miss. Sonia will rescue me!” and shook his fist at you, trying his best not to look starstruck.

Eventually, you got their names out of them.

“How long will we be here?” Gundham asked you over dinner that night. “I wish to return home as soon as possible. I have responsibilities.”

Realistically, you knew it wouldn’t be a quick endeavour. You and Sonia had spent three months as prisoners in a neighbouring kingdom as Rusika and Novoselic had laid siege to the capitol. That was when you had learned she was boring. She kept to herself in her room, and almost seemed upset with you whenever you would negotiate with your captors, or walked the palace grounds like a free woman.

“As long as it takes” you answered coolly, glad that Japanese was one of the languages your family had forced you to learn. Members of the royal family having to speak thiry languages was one tradition that Rusika had kept from its time joined with Novoselic. It came in handy when negotiating with foreigners. “I cannot provide a clearer answer than that.”

“Don’t worry, Gundham,” Souda spoke up. “Sonia will come for us!”

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Gundham spent most of his time observing the animals on your palace grounds. Your late mother had loved peacocks, so your father had taken up breeding them. She had loved many different animals when she had been alive, so the grounds weren’t exactly wanting. He enjoyed speaking with the vain birds, whistling and cooing until they would fan their elegant tails. His hamsters seemed to enjoy their accommodations too, with more seeds than they could have ever hoped to have eaten.

Souda, however, wanted to remain as unaffected as possible. He did his best to refuse any luxuries you offered him. It was only after you found out he had taken apart every electronic device in his room did you ask Gundham. The Ultimate Breeder had warmed up to you quickly, especially since you were the reason his hamsters were so well taken care of.

After Gundham cryptically told you about Souda, you gifted the Mechanic with a set of tools and new appliances to play with. Boredom could be so cruel, and the last thing you wanted was undue suffering.

Seeing him slip shyly into your study made your gift worth it. He was so awkward as he stumbled out a thanks, looking everywhere except your face. He was blushing and fiddling with a screwdriver as he spoke. “I still don’t trust you. You’re Miss. Sonia’s enemy,” he pointed his finger at you. “And any enemy of Miss. Sonia is an enemy of mine.”

“Would you like a workshop?” you asked him calmly. “I’m sure your room is a bit cluttered with all of those appliances. I just want to make your stay comfortable, I bear no ill will towards you, Mr. Souda.”

His cheeks flamed up and he stammered out a non-answer, shuffling out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Souda and Gundham had been with you a little over two weeks when the former finally cracked. He once more barged into your study, and looked you up and down. “I want somewhere to work,” he declared. He placed a crumpled piece of paper on your desk. “Here’s the list of everything I need.”

You saved the speech you were writing and logged off of your computer. “Come with me, Mr. Souda,” you stood gracefully, glad you no longer had to wear your ballgowns around him. It had always made you feel overdressed and obnoxious, especially considering he preferred to wear his jumpsuit rather than the clothes your country had provided him with. It had taken a lot to even convince him to let the servants wash the suit, let alone wear another while he waited.

In the end, you had commissioned seven identical jumpsuits for him, to match the one he already wore. At least he no longer reeked.

You paused at the door to the workshop you had set up for him. There was a guard stationed outside, but a nod from you dismissed him. Kazuichi’s eyes lit up as he observed all of the new-age tech he had to play with. He stammered out a bright-eyed thanks, and you gave him your brightest smile. You had done lots of research into what he would enjoy; he was your guest, not your prisoner. Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a month, Novoselic struck up a deal with Rusika. A hostage for hostage trade: Gundham Tanaka for your father’s cherished advisor. Kazuichi had not been mentioned in the negotiations at all, something that did not sit right with you.

He tried to pretend that he wasn’t upset he had been forgotten, but it was obvious to anybody with half of a brain he was torn up. You made efforts to spend more time with him. You had him accompany you on walks around the castle’s garden, and even took him out of the palace for a few walks around town for a change of scenery. Nothing you said lifted his spirits. He barely even looked at you now.

You watched him tinkering with his toys, but even that seemed to have lost its shine for him. He looked so sad, so bored that it made you anxious.

“May I ask you something?” you questioned on one such walk. The two of you had been caught in the rain and had sought shelter underneath a quaint gazebo. He looked back at you with a curt nod. “How is your hair pink?”

He blinked at you for a moment before he burst out laughing. It was the first time since he had come to Rusika that he had laughed, and it made your cheeks flame up as he smiled at you.

“I dye it,” he told you after he calmed down. “I first bleach my hair to take the colour out, and then I use a dye to turn it pink.”

“Colour?” You blinked up at him. “What colour is your hair supposed to be?”

Instead of answering, he removed his beanie to reveal about an inch of jet-black hair growing in at his roots. Your eyes widened in wonder. “So, it must be bleached again on the new hair?” you asked.

“Yes,” he smiled at you dopily. “It has to be done every few months or the hair will grow in its natural colour.”

“Does it feel different?” you asked. “The pink and the black?” Instead of replying, he took your hand and placed it onto his hair. Your blush only deepened as you felt how soft it was, and noticed his cheeks were bright red too as you pulled away. “Do you wish to turn your hair pink again? I will send for my stylist.”

He smiled at you, soft but genuine. “I’d really like that. Then I’ll feel a bit more like me,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing?” Souda peeked over your shoulder. You smiled tiredly up at him and you stretched as subtly as you could. You had been taking daily walks with him for several weeks now, and he would always drop by every few hours to see how you were doing, or to show off his latest invention.

“I’m looking at the schematics for a new geothermal energy plant,” you answered. “I’m trying to sort out how we can make our energy extraction more efficient.”

Kazuichi looked over the blueprints on your laptop screen. “I’d have to do the calculations, but if you merged these two pipes here-” he pointed. “-you would cut down significantly on the energy wasted.”

“Pull up a chair,” you told him. “Let’s take a look together, shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kazuichi had been in your care for three months now, and he hardly acted like a prisoner. He called you “Miss” (probably because you called him Mr. Souda), and tended to barge in on you whenever he wanted. He had repaired the castle’s heating system, boosted your internet connection, and even helped you overhaul the design of your new energy plants. These plants would be 46% more efficient than the last schematic, something that amazed you. You told him repeatedly how marvellous he was, if only to see his face light up.

Lately, he had started wearing the jumpsuits your family had initially provided him with – similar to his old one but stamped with your country’s crest on the back – and had been a bit more… touchy than before. He would put a hand on the small of your back while you walked, or gently brush a lock of hair from your face as the two of you had tea.

You were not experienced in the slightest with intimacy or wanting to be in a relationship – you were certain you would learn that after you became queen – but now he was all you could think about. You knew the basics, knew what to expect from a man, but your heart was uncharted territory. You had never loved someone before, and some deep-seated fear in your heart was worried he would think you were taking advantage of him.

“I was in love with her, you know,” he told you one day while you were out for a walk. The two of you were once more caught in the rain and taking shelter in the same gazebo. “I loved Sonia.” Sonia. Not Miss. Sonia.

“Did it hurt?” you asked back, and immediately felt stupid for asking. It was none of your business, why did you want to know?

“I guess?” he shrugged. “I don’t – she never treated me like I mattered. She made me feel like I was nothing. Just a pest. Like I was disposable.”

“Sonia is a fool,” you told him. You meant it, of course you did, but at that moment you just wanted him to smile. “Your contributions will certainly leave their marks on this world. You are a remarkable person with a remarkable talent. Anybody who would overlook you is an utter fool.”

Kazuichi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small speaker. He set it on the railing, and it began to play a soft, slow song. “Will you dance with me?” he asked shyly.

“Of course,” you smiled at him, holding out your hand for him to take.

His steps were sloppy and uncoordinated, but the feeling of his warm body in your arms made you feel safe. You wanted him to love you. Love you the way he loved Sonia, and then even more. A legendary love that would eclipse all others.

When he leaned down to kiss you, you automatically tilted you head to the side. It felt like the first time and the thousandth time all at once – something new and exciting, yet undeniably right. He grinned at you like an idiot and kept swaying with you while the song ended.

“It all feels perfect with I’m with you,” he told you. “Like it all makes sense.”

“I understand,” you smiled up at him. “I feel the same way too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He barely left your side now. He would let you work, of course, but wanted to spend his every waking hour with you. He held your hand on your walks, kissed your knuckles like a gentleman whenever he greeted you, and kissed you passionately when you were alone with him. You loved watching him light up at your presence – it was like his world began and ended with you.

His greatest joy was when he got to work with you. To see you listening carefully to his advice, offering insights of your own based on your knowledge. You worked to improve both your geothermal energy plants and plan for new mines. The number of precious stones mined this year was astronomical, and it wasn’t over yet.

Your father was impressed with the improvements he had made to the schematics he had been provided with, so he was gradually given more and more responsibility (along with his freedom, of course). Eventually, he began to receive an “allowance” as payment for the work he was doing. He spent most of it on new gadgets to tinker with or gifts for you. You would often retire to your room to find a vase full of flowers or a box of chocolates, and every time you saw them you would break out into a grin you could not stop.  

The two of you would text one another (he made himself a cellphone because he was “bored and wanted to try it”) until you fell asleep, and within those words he bared his soul. He told you about his horrific home life – about the man who had dared to harm him – and about the friends who had betrayed him. He told you how much you mattered to him, all of the things he would do for you. Give up for you.

When he told you about his father hitting him one too many times, you left your room and went to his. You just needed to hold him, make him feel safe the same way he made you feel safe.

You were glad you went when you did, because there was a woman dressed in black trying to drag him out of the window. You raised the security alarm, and she was apprehended. Mukuro Ikusaba – the Ultimate Soldier – was thrown into your actual prison, and you once more had trouble with Novoselic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You answered the door with bleary eyes, but seeing Souda’s tired smile as he mumbled about not sleeping was worth it. You used your new nickname for him – the word in your mother tongue that meant little pink rose – and he melted into your arms. You didn’t care that you were wearing your nightgown, or that it was early in the morning, you had your prince charming and he was safe, and he was yours. Yours.

“I had a nightmare,” he was curled up among your pillows, snuggled up under your blankets. “You forgot about me like she did.”

“I’m not her,” you reminded him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before resting your own against it. You could feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips, and as you let your eyes slip shut your hands found his. “I will never think of you as less than extraordinary, my darling.” You promised.

He kissed your cheek, slowly painting his way over your cheekbones and down to your lips. You responded wonderfully, one hand cupping his cheek as you kissed him slowly. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you with pure adoration. He wasn’t wearing his contacts, and his eyes were a light, rosy brown colour. Stunning.

“I love you,” the words slipped out of your mouth unbidden. You were speaking in your mother tongue now, but based on the smile he gave you and the whisper of “Ai shiteru” you got in return, he had understood. More than understood.

Your lips met his again, a strange kind of hunger filling you. He must have felt the change too, the atmosphere crackling with energy as you traced your fingers over his body. As he traced his fingers over yours.

You both stripped completely and held one another, clumsy and laughing and so in love. “Tell me if it hurts,” he had whispered to you as he stretched you open with his fingers. You had kissed him in response, a smiling sort of kiss that you hope conveyed more than a simple “I love you”.

Your lovemaking didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to to be perfect. It felt like it was right out of a fairy tale, and your prince charming was here to save you from everything bad in the world. You were here to save him, in reality, but you were more than happy to indulge him in his fantasies, so long as you could play a part in them.

When you were done, he wrapped you in his arms and placed a kiss to your temple. He hummed softly and played with your hair, whispering his love over and over again. You smiled up at him, tired but satisfied, and when you fell asleep your smile did not falter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since that night you had shared, Kazuichi had been coming to your bed every night. You would fall asleep together and wake up together and talk until you couldn’t anymore. When you weren’t talking, you were either cuddling or doing something less… innocent. Your mouth had mapped out every inch of his body, and you knew what to do to make him open like a flower. He liked letting you do what you wanted to him – liked giving over the power and control and letting you make him feel good.

He loved it when you spoke to him in your mother tongue – no matter what you said he would squirm and turn bright red.

“Do you like it when I play with your pretty cock?” you asked him lowly, and he let out a sweet moan as his legs fell open. He could tell from the sound of your voice if you were being sweet to him or not, and you could tell based on the noises he made if he wanted you to be sweet or not.

You wondered what fantasies swept him away as you mounted him. When you pinned his wrists and mouthed at his neck, you wondered why he was mewling so much. Did he even know what he was begging you for anymore, or did his mind just go blank every time you began to kiss his scars?

You learned every embarrassing detail about his body, and he learned every detail of yours. He loved to have you on him – worshipping him, taking pleasure from his body – but what he loved most were the quiet moments after.

The moments when you would roll off of him and kiss him slowly and tell him how good he was. When you would worship every scar again, tell him he was beautiful. When he’d lay his head in your lap so you could weave your fingers into his hair and hum him lullabies. He always fell asleep in your bed after you made love. It was one of the most perfect moments you ever shared, and you felt so, so lucky to have shared so many of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today you woke up alone. Novoselic had finally sent an envoy to negotiate Kazuichi’s release. Today was the day.

Last night, he had helped you pick out your gown. He had chosen a white one with ruffles designed to look like flowers – Rusika was the kingdom of roses, after all – and as your handmaidens helped you get ready, you felt powerful.

You went all out – you wore your crown jewels and covered yourself in diamonds. You did not want there to be any doubt that they were dealing with a princess and would negotiate on her terms. Your father had been surprised when you had asked for this responsibility but granted you the negotiation opportunity.

Mukuro Ikusaba was wearing several chains, including a rather nasty-looking pair of handcuffs. She was positioned in a chair facing towards your throne, and she glared at you as you took your seat.

Kazuichi arrived only a few minutes after you, and his jaw just about hit the floor as he took you in. You gave him a smile befitting a queen as your eyes roamed his body – he was wearing a finely tailored suit and a ring with your family’s crest on it. You realized then you wanted to cover him in jewels. He would look so good sparkling.

He bowed deeply before taking his place at your side, breaking you from your train of thought. It was an old Novoselic tradition for the ruler’s consort to kneel on a special stool while the monarch conducted business, but while Kazuichi did kneel on the plush cushion, he tugged it towards you so he could lie across your lap. The action startled you at first, but as he snuggled deeper into your skirts and looked up at you with a smile, your fingers came up to weave into his hair in the way he found comforting, and he closed his eyes.

That lasted for a blissful minute before the throne room’s doors burst open and Princess Sonia Nevermind was announced. Her entourage filed in with her, and Souda tilted his head to get a better view of them. You recognized Gundham, and vaguely recalled hearing about a few of the others from Kazuichi. Classmates, if you remembered correctly.

Sonia had brought the Yakuza boy and the Ultimate Swordswoman as backup. She had also brought a hulking man with matching scars over both of his eyes. This man was someone you had never heard of, yet he was flanked by the usual Novoselic military honour guard. You greeted her in your shared tongue before switching to Japanese. “Welcome. What brings you all to Rusika?” you asked.

The princess of Novoselic cleared her throat and began once more in your mother tongue. “Apologies for interrupting, Princess Nevermind, but not everybody here speaks our language. I would like to include our guests in the matters we will be discussing,” Souda shifted in your lap, and you continued playing with his hair, sitting with the elegance of a queen.

Sonia began again, in Japanese this time. “I demand you release your prisoners at once,” she pointed at you. “Keeping a soldier hired by my country to retrieve a prisoner does not reflect well on the alliance between our peoples. I would hate for a war to break out.”

You sighed. “As a show of good faith, I will release the prisoner Mukuro Ikusaba to you,” you made a gesture and a pair of guards removed her shackles. You could feel Souda playing with your ruffles. “Was that all?”

“We are here for the prisoner Kazuichi Souda,” she answered. “I demand you release him.”

“Kazuichi is not a prisoner,” you corrected. “He has full autonomy and can choose to leave anytime he would like.”

“You kidnapped him as a political prisoner!” Sonia snapped, eyes locked on him. “Do not tell me that he is doing… that of his own free will!”

You gave his shoulder a pat with the hand that had been in his hair and he blinked over at Sonia. “I have done nothing malicious towards him,” you answered. “I have not-”

“Liar!” Sonia cut in. “You must have brainwashed him with Stockholm. You truly are a woman with flexible legs!”

Kazuichi raised his head a bit. “Don’t talk to my Princess like that!” there was a certain bite to his words. You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair as he glared at Sonia. “Gundham knows as well as I do that we were never mistreated here. We were given free reign, and I just so happened to be appreciated. I’m not a second choice here. I’m not forgotten.”

Sonia looked visibly upset at his words. “We did not forget you!” she assured him.

“You rescued Gundham after a month? A few weeks?” Kazuichi was bristling. “I’ve been here for eight. Eight months and you didn’t even bother to see if I was okay.” Sonia watched Kazuichi lie back down. “Excuse me for being happy. I forgot you don’t like it when I’m too overbearing with my affection.” He shifted around for comfort, burying his face in the crook of his elbow before tilting it out to the crowd.

“Is he truly able to leave anytime he wants?” Gundham asked.

“I am,” Kazuichi bristled once again. “I’ve got a job and everything.”

Sonia said your name. No title, just your name. “I would like to speak with you in private, future monarch to future monarch,” she was clenching her hands into fists.

“I’ll allow it,” you gave Kazuichi a gentle pat on the shoulder and he reluctantly pulled away. You stood, and he stood with you. He followed you down from your throne, and as you escorted Sonia towards your study you noticed Kazuichi was making a beeline for Gundham.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you were alone again, the first thing Kazuichi did was help you out of your dress. He was careful as he unlaced your corset, and as he helped you step out of it. He even hung it up properly so it wouldn’t get damaged. Then he was kissing you like he was about to lose you, pulling your body close and pulling you into his arms. He carried you over to the bed and tossed you into it, discarding his own clothes haphazardly as he followed.

“I love you,” he told you assuredly. “And nothing is ever going to change that. Not a single thing they say will convince me otherwise.”

You smiled at his words. “And I love you too, my little pink rose,” you gave him a deep, longing kiss.

It didn’t matter what the others thought or said. It didn’t matter what they did. All that mattered was what you and Souda thought. Souda was here with you. Souda loved you.

And no matter who decided to challenge that, they couldn’t take him away from you.

[fandomscombine]

Love and Sacrifice

A Fred Weasley x Reader and Adrian Pucey x Reader

BG: Fred didn’t know what went wrong. One moment you were happy together the next you reappear after months of silence only to came back engaged to Adrian Pucey. But what he doesn’t know is that you made the ultimate sacrifice for him.

Contains: Forbidden love. Arranged marriage. Angst alert! Get ready to feel the pain.

A/N: Was supposed to be just an outline, but kinda became a straight up full fic.

WC:1662

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

Weeks leading up to the day that Fred and George were to leave Hogwarts to start Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Fred had noticed you becoming distant. Though he didn’t put much though into that as to NEWTS coming up and you had been staying up most nights helping them sort out the joke shop’s paperwork instead of revising. He knew that this situation would be temporary and once you graduated, you would be moving out of your strict parent’s house to live in with him- as you both had planned.

However, after graduation, you were still giving him the cold shoulder and not replying to his letters. Even his siblings had noticed that after they left, you were acting weird-not talking much, low energy and generally not feeling like yourself.  Although you had sat with the remaining Weasleys on the Hogwarts Express, you were unusually quiet, a shell of your past self. Similar to Fred, his younger sibling attributed this behaviour to being anxious in knowing the results of your NEWTS, which were set to arrive mid-July.

Fast-forward to a few weeks after graduation, you are now engaged to Adrian Pucey. You both were walking around Diagon Alley, doing some wedding shopping when a certain shop comes into view. Of course, you had only seen the concept art and blueprints, so you had an idea what it would look like, but it was even more magical seeing it in person.

Adrian catches a sight of your face and understands, understand that these past few weeks with him had been a whirlwind and acknowledges that you and Fred would need closure for both for you to move on.  Adrian gave your hand a squeeze, ‘Go on y/n, I know you want to.’ Beckoning towards the shop. ‘We should at least give him the decency to tell him in person rather than him finding it out in the daily prophet that you are soon to be married.  We are gonna have “The wedding of the year” as they call it.’

The whole time you were reluctant to approach him. Unable to predict how he would react to you popping up out of the blue.

With hands in your pocket, hiding your ring. You call out to him after 3 long months.

‘y/n?’ Fred did double take, almost not believing that you were real, the actual y/n that he loved, that disappeared is now within reach.

Emotions came rushing back. How foolish did you think that months apart, forcing him out of your mind would diminish everything you felt. Panicking, you dashed to the door.

Nevertheless, his long legs had quickly caught up to you. He tries to stop you from leaving him again, holding your arm back, you resisted yanking away his grasp.

His hand slides past yours, accidentally pulling off you ring too.

It falls to the ground.

Fred kneels down, getting to it first.

It’s even funny really, you though that he would be at that position before. Of course, under different circumstances.

He stares at the ring.

Right then Adrian reaches your side. “What are you doing with my fiancée’s ring?”

“Fiancée?”

‘Yeah my fiancée’ Adrian interlocks your hands. ‘The soon to be Mrs. y/n Pucey’

Fred chokes on air, turning redder than you’ve ever seen, you can see the veins in his arms contract.

The only time you saw him like this was when Malfoy insulted his family back in Year 5 quidditch match.

You turn to Adrian, with soft eyes.

He nods, understanding what you were asking. ‘I’ll be right outside, okay?’

‘Thank you.’

However, when you turned back, Fred was already walking away.

‘Fred! Wait!’ you finally caught up to him ‘Can we talk? Please.’

He stops, nodding though not bothering to face you. ‘In here.’ Leading you to his office.

Crossing his arms, he mocked. ‘So this is why you weren’t returning my messages.’

‘Fred….’

‘Cause you were with him all this time.’

‘NO!!! No… I wasn’t believe me.’

‘Then why?’ Fred was emotionally exhausted. ‘I just had the love of his life reappear after months of silence, only to find out that she’s engaged to someone else, someone I know she practically strangers with!’ Fred runs his hand through his hair, leaning defeated against the table. ‘Why did you leave me? You just disappear, like we didn’t have history. y/n. NO note. NO explanation. Just silence.’

‘Remember when you and George were trying to get this place up and running?’

‘Yea but what’s it got to do with all this?’

You raised a hand to stop him.

‘Do you recall that all your efforts were being blocked? The lease, the permits…..’ you exhaled. ‘Apparently that was my father’s doing.’

‘Your father??’

You nodded.

‘News got to him that we were dating- and no I don’t know how, but it did.’ You added, knowing what’s on his mind. ‘You know how my father is... with his traditional ways. He couldn’t believe that his only daughter was seeing a blood traitor. There was no way he would allow it.’ You shook your head.  ‘So he used his influence in the ministry, pulled some strings in order to do whatever he could to stop you from building the joke shop.’

‘You and George were being held back with one thing to another, it’s unheard of to have a business struggle so much just to get the right paperwork. So I did some digging, I had my suspicions then, I knew it had someone powerful but what was curious was that you were faced with all these constant barriers that couldn’t possibly be an authority being throughout with the paperwork. No, it was more inclined to someone with a personal grudged.’ You explained.

‘So, I took a chance and confronted my father.’ Continuing on, you sneered. ‘It was funny cause he didn’t even bother to deny my allegations, said he was doing the right thing.’ You air quoted.  ‘And that if I wanted it to stop. He would do so immediately, under the condition that I break up with you and agree to have an arranged marriage.’

‘What?’ Fred shocked by your confession. ‘y/n. Why did you agree? ’

‘It was the hardest thing I had to do, but I knew that it was for the best.’ You looked at him with melancholy. ‘It would be the best for you.’

 ‘You thought it would be the best for me, did you honestly thought that I would agree to this huh y/n?’ Fred challenged.

 ‘I did it so that you would have a bright and happy future, even if it meant that I won’t be in the picture.’

He scoffs.

‘Freddie..’ When he wouldn’t look at you, you tried again. ‘love…’

He winces at the nickname.

‘You have been wanting to turn this dream of having your own joke shop into a reality for the longest time. I know that burning unstoppable passion you have in bringing joy into the world ever since I’ve known you.’ Moving closer, you cupped his cheek. ‘Time and time again, you had overcome people’s discouragement on your passion, and you came up on top.’

‘So who am I to stop you from fulfilling your dreams? I can’t do that to you Freddie. I won’t be always to bear with the knowledge of holding you back. I can’t. I couldn’t Not to you. ’

‘So you sacrifice your own happiness for me to have mine?’

You shrugged.

‘Do you love him?’ Fred’s voice was strained.

You were caught off guard by his question. ‘Adrian?’

‘Yea.’

Gathering your thoughts together, you reasoned ‘I…..I…It’s only been a few week since we got engaged-‘

‘Do. You. Love. Him?’ Fred could feel his heart contracting. But he needed to know where he stood emotionally to you.

‘I like him.’ Blinking, you thought about your past couple of weeks with Adrian. ‘He’s sweet and nice. A really caring gentleman.’ You admitted. ‘Not exactly the typical evil Slytherin archetype either. So there’s that.’

‘That’s not exactly a high bar.’ Fred taunted causing you to chuckle.

‘But in time…given time. I don’t see why I won’t potentially fall for him.’ You replied truthfully.

You both just sat there, shoulder to shoulder on his office table. Hints laughter could be heard through the door. In contrast to this small room full of eery silence and tense with the gloom of a last goodbye.

‘Well..’ You stand, brushing your dress straight. ‘I guess that is all there is to say.’ You sent him a reassuring smile, eager to maintain this light ambiance between you. ‘I just dropped by for a quick visit you and to inform you of the upcoming wedding of the year. Thought that it be best to clear the air and be polite and give you a heads up personally rather than finding out about it in the daily prophet tomorrow.’

You wrap him into a hug, knowing that this would be the last time. ‘I’ll miss you.’

Fred held onto to you tighter, inhaling your scent. ‘I’ll miss you too.’ Compelling his brain to remember what you feel like, what you smell like. His The One That Got Away. Burying his face into your neck, he pleads. ‘Do this one thing for me please…. To make things easier.’

‘Anything’ you replied.

‘Tell me you don’t love me.’

You stiffen in his arms, pulling back a bit to see his face. ‘I can’t.’

You were about to walk away when once again he stops you.

The next thing you know, you were spun back into his arms, kissing with intense passion, pouring your hearts out, knowing that this is it. The final kiss. The final moment. This is where your stories diverge.

You broke apart, cherishing his face this close one last time.

‘Goodbye, Fred Weasley.’

With that you exit his office, leaving behind a perfectly happy life of what ifs and a heartbroken man surrounded by reminders of his achievements and happiness.

  Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1​

[ikevamp-shrine]

Thank you @yanderepuck​ for giving me the courage to post this😊❤

Please ignore the crappy drawing of her, but that's kinda what she appears like in my mind. I will be writing with her character in future posts.

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Height: 5’4

Birthday: September 7th

Occupation: Former Queen of England

Appearance: 

Long, curly (and extremely thick) strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, red lips, and intense icy blue eyes. Her stance is strong, regale, and respectable. Her skin is littered with smallpox scars (only a few, very unnoticeable ones residing on her face, neck, and hands). Her expression is usually blank and unreadable. Her movements are controlled and polite. Her brows thick and stomach soft. Legs long and fingers thin and graceful. There are patches of freckles on her shoulders that mix with her scars causing a unique blend of color. Thick thighs and pale, maintained feet. Smaller breasts.

Childhood:

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

She was taught a rigorous education normally only given to male heirs and was applauded for her perseverance and memory. She became fluent in French and Italian which profited when conducting diplomacy years later. Her involvement with the Reformation shaped the course of the nation, but she held no interest in religion.

With her father’s death, her step mother married the lord high admiral, Thomas, which resulted in his decapitation due to his intent to rape and impregnate Elizabeth forcing her to marry him in order for him to rule the kingdom. He was said to be overly flirtatious and acting inappropriately familiar with the young girl when around her (which one of the reasons she doesn’t like Arthur, his flirtatious nature reminds her of her past).

She was raised around sexism and taught that women were likely to act on impulsion and passion making them unfit to rule. Men were taught the arts of war and told they are the ones who dominate women while women were urged to keep their head down, mouth shut, and attend their needlework. She had remained unmarried, her want to remain single overshadowing any thoughts of seeking out relations with a man. She was rumored to have burst out in tears when Queen Mary, her older sister, had proposed to marry Elizabeth to a duke. This became a national concern when Elizabeth became queen and refused to take a husband, going against the belief that a woman’s place was a wife. It also raised worries that she would die childless, ending her bloodline, and giving Elizabeth’s title to Mary, Queen of Scots, a catholic posing a threat to the Protestants of England.

Dislikes: 

her privacy being intruded on, loud talking, 3am, those who play weak and stupid or whine to get what they want, people who are lazy but still expect to reach their goals, women who chase men and believe they need a man to be successful in life, messy rooms, fake personalities and cheaters (in both games and relationships)

Likes: 

walks in the garden at midnight, the sound of the birds singing their life’s song as the warmth of the day’s first rays of sun trace her skin, reading, learning new things, burning candles, smiling faces, happy children, the smell of freshly baked bread, warm blankets, animals, the laughter of children, hunting, dancing, and horseback (bareback more often than naught)

Personality: 

She appears cold at first because of her bluntness and blank (almost annoyed) expression. Unreasonably serious with a strong sense of duty, responsibility, and morals. She is a firm believer in working harder than everyone else to achieve greatness. A highly intelligent woman that believe women are equal to their male counterpart. Extremely stubborn in a non-disrespectful way. She is adaptable, disciplined, dignified, and confident with a wit and tongue as sharp as, if not sharper, than any of the residents. She is blunt, doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and is always honest. Focused, logical, and exceedingly loyal to those she decides to put her trust in. She is protective and straightforward but rather quiet. She tends to keep to herself. She is paranoid and distrustful when meeting new people but will not show it. She tries to work on it, but she can be very vengeful when it comes to people betraying her or hurting those she loves.

Preferred company: 

Theo, Leonardo, Isaac, Jean, Vincent

Relationships (platonic, romantic, etc.):  

Jean- platonic with a chance of something more

Has a deep understanding with Jean. They don’t really talk about each other to each other; their conversations mainly consist of stiff, dead toned jokes that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were jokes until specified. She is one of the few people that has actually seen a sober Jean smile. He is extremely protective of her and will stand behind her just so he has the peace of mind that her back is guarded. If she asked, he would show her what is under his eye patch, no matter what lingering emotions he has on the ‘ugliness under the fabric’. His blade is always ready, his mind perfectly clear, when it comes to the safety and well being of the woman he had found himself connecting to in ways no one had before. Often, they go horse back riding together, Napoleon will sometimes accompany but its only when her and the former solider are alone does she throw her head back, her laughs unrestrained while the wind rips through her hair and clothing. Jean will race her and chuckle at how free she looks, but of course she doesn’t hear. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Napoleon  

Mozart- platonic

Sometimes Mozart look for her and demand Elizabeth to listen to his new piece until she raises an eyebrow, daring him not to correct his wording. He’ll swallow thickly and glance off to the side, a scoff on his lips as he apologizes. She’ll nod and follow him to music room. Mozart will stare at her impatiently until she gives her honest (and extremely blunt) opinion. He values her words and while alone the pianist will replay the slight quirk of her lips as she praised his efforts. He has a small obsession with her and it drives him insane

Vincent- brotherly platonic and Theo- they horny for each other but don’t want to cross that line of friendship so they dance around their feelings while making out every once in a while

Has a soft spot for Theo and Vincent because their relationship makes her think of her brother. She only sees Vincent as a brother and will only allow him to do her makeup when he asks to, but with Theo its completely different. She sees Theo as a partner, a man she shares many values and goals with. She respects him and their shared opinions on responsibility and productivity. They understand each other intuitively and can conversate with just fleeting touches and quick glances of their eyes. There is a thick sexual tension that builds between them overtime resulting in hurried, frantic, sloppy kisses in hallways where the couple battle for dominance by pushing each other against walls and gripping roughly at the other’s clothing

Napoleon- just housemates (not friends or lovers)

She can and usually feels uncomfortable when around Napoleon. She has chalked it down to the fact they are both the leader ‘alpha’ types that ruled enemy lands. Truly, they just don’t have much in common and find it hard to build a meaningful relationship. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Jean

Arthur- just housemates

Can sometimes get too snippy with Arthur. While she does find enjoyment in his jokes at times, she despises the sexual aspects of the author. Finds his skirt chasing habits understandable but disgusting. Admires his intelligence but can’t stand how he is able to tell you where have been just by the dust on your hand (she likes her privacy). Will play chess and pool with him even though she knows she will lose just because she enjoys playing. Will sometimes have deep conversations with Arthur in front of the fire place, both nursing a glass of alcohol, their eyes never leaving the fire as to not break the imaginary protective barrier around the two that eye contact will shatter. Smirks at his quirks and jokes sometimes and it literally makes Arthur’s heart leap because ‘damn a queen just found amusement in my joke.’ He internally freaked out the first time he met her mainly because the mansion now had two previous rulers instead of one and the newest one scared the living daylights out of him.

Comte- there is nothing between them

Doesn’t trust Comte as far as she can throw him. She can see the darkness in his heart and his past behind his eyes. She can see the death he’s caused- the pain, and while she knows that she, herself, has caused the death of many, she still has a deeply rooted gut feeling telling her to stay away from the pureblood. He wants her trust but soon realizes her opinion on him is similar to Jean’s. She will not take any gifts other than what is necessary from him (ex. Dresses for parties)

Dazai- just housemates

Dazai tries avoiding her. He feels suffocated when around and the victim of her stare. He feels as if her eyes and actions pick him apart and leave his in his barest, rawest form, and it scares him to no end. She does find his window habit hilarious though and will give him a hand up when he falls

Shakespeare- they don’t get involved with each other

She can tell Shakespeare’s mind is being manipulated, by what is the question she has yet to reveal though. She can tell he is dangerous. One who’s actions are watched and controlled by another always are. His unpredictable nature and mysterious, secret filled smile is what causes her to feel uneasy around him. She doesn’t ignore him, but she doesn’t want to be involved with the playwright and his actions so she tends to just quietly leave the room when he enters. He is polite to her and compliments her when they do talk but his fancy wording sometimes annoys Elizabeth, especially when she just wants to get away from him. She believes he is a good man at heart lead astray by forces more powerful than him, but still finds his company rather unnecessary. 

Sebastian- they respect one another, are not friends but have decent conversations

Has an interesting relationship with Sebastian. She wouldn’t call him a friend, she has very few of those so it is understandable, but she does respect him for his work ethic just as he respects her for her accomplishments and standing in history. She let him interview him once and nearly laughed out loud from how excited he got. They always have a cup of coffee or tea in the morning together, Elizabeth not quite woken up yet so they sip in comforting silence. Sebastian usually asks how she slept and she responds by telling him about her dreams if she had one. She’ll end up helping him cook breakfast.

Leonardo- friends with a chance of something more

Elizabeth appreciates Leonardo’s straightforwardness and honesty, so they have a decent trusting relationship, but his matureness makes her feel like a little girl again and it bothers her. Her thoughts tend to be: she was a queen; she ruled a country with a strength that rivaled even the greatest men, she should not look at this chain-smoking man with admiration in her eyes like a giddy school girl, flustered over a boy telling her she is cute, while around the Italian. The start of their relationship was rocky, due to Elizabeth’s personal feelings on the man- Leonardo could have cared less, but soon enough they started to appreciate each other’s qualities. Leonardo is mainly the only one she allows to touch her hair. They often speak Italian together on the balcony as Leonardo smoke a cigarillo and Elizabeth reads.

Isaac- they have the chance of being more than friends but their relationship is mainly just comforting one another through their presence and (when needed) touch- they also trust each other whole heartedly

Adores Isaac and will purposely sought him out just so she can listen to his calming ramblings while he tinkers away, a book in her hand and two cooling cups of coffee on the surface closest to the pair. He gets so red around her; at times he turns snow white from the intensity in her gaze and how her eyes never stray from her company. They share an endless loyalty to each other. Neither knows when the bond form, it just happened on its own (and very suddenly). Isaac has lost control and bit her but instead of reacting in anger she accepted it and pulled him closer, shuddering with each frenzied suck against her neck, her nails gently scratching the scalp of a whimpering Isaac. When Isaac finally came to his senses, he tried pulling away, his voice thick with unshed tears as his panicked words rang through the air until Elizabeth grabbed him and held him close, shushing Isaac as he trembled with regret and guilt in her arms. They had held each other for hours until they feel asleep in each other embraces. Isaac will link pinkies with Elizabeth when he is being picked on without realizing it for support and something to ground him so his thoughts don’t run too wild. Elizabeth will just glare and clear her throat and Arthur will shut his mouth while looking at the former queen as if he was a kicked puppy. She has a habit of fixing his clothing or hair after he nervously pulls, picks, or twists at it- Isaac doesn’t even notice it after a while. His face does burn intensely though when she places a hand on his overactive, bouncing knee when he is anxious.

Fun facts:

Due to her makeup being poisoned by her undetermined enemy, which resulted in her death, she refuses to wear any cosmetics other than what Vincent personally makes (learned how to from Leonardo) and puts on her skin himself when going to events if he asks to.

She tends to wear clothing that covers all skin other than her neck and face when leaving the mansion due to children being scared by her smallpox scars.

She usually never strays from wine unless her emotions become a little too overwhelming for her to just push the feelings down, only then will she drink something stronger.

Elizabeth is a quiet, peaceful drunk that tends to curl up on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor, her hair loose and flowing over the decorative pillow she’ll grab and hug tightly to her chest.

She died a virgin and has remained one ever since her resurrection.

The former queen is hesitant to allow others to touch her hair from her past concerning the loss of said strands (a result of surviving smallpox), but if she trusts someone enough and knows they’ll be gentle she’ll let them style the curls, even if she is tense the entire time.

Prefers to braid her hair herself and wrap in into a bun due to the protective nature of the style.

Loves sleeping in but is often unable to due to insomnia.

She is highly particular when it comes to cleaning and organization. She has told Sebastian not to worry about cleaning her things or doing her laundry, instead she does it herself with up most focus and determination.

When she does open up or is around the boys long enough, they realize her heart is truly kind and nurturing instead of what she appears when first met (a cold-hearted woman with a resolve like steel). This is especially apparent when around animals.

She is very sarcastic and doesn’t mean any harm but usually her joking words sound hateful due to her dead tone and blank face.

Her voice is deeper and soothing, most times holding no emotion which creeps Dazai and Arthur out

Lives by “no pain no gain”

Doesn’t waste her breath on hate- if she doesn’t like someone or feels as if she can’t trust them then they just don’t exist to her. She won’t hesitate to cut someone off without warning.

Has a bad habit of bottling her emotions which causes her to explode when pushed over the edge resulting in one of the very rare moments where her anger creates an electric static in the room that demands the attention of anyone present. She doesn’t shout or scream but her words are sharper than a blade, her eyes burn with a fiery rage while she takes control of the room, overwhelming anyone (even Napoleon) and making them feel as if they are an ant beneath her boot.

Her eyes freak many people out- they feel as if the ice like orbs are staring straight into their soul, picking apart their insides, leaving nothing but shredded organs and an empty husk of what used to be a strong mind.

Can always tell when someone is lying. It’s a gut feeling, and her gut is always right.

She still wears her coronation ring on her wedding finger as a sign of her symbolic marriage to her people and country

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt6

hello!! i wanted to say thank you so much for all of your wonderful likes, comments, reblogs, asks, and everything in between!! it really means a ton to me knowing that you guys actually like this story and my writing :) remember that if you have any suggestions don’t hesitate to send me an ask or a message, and pls share if you can!! much love to you all

pt 1

pt 5

pt 7

“Perfect,” he breathed out as his eyes saw the boat. “You hop down first.”

“What? No way! I’m the one that can actually firebend here. You go first so you don’t get hurt.”

“Do you always have to argue with me?”

“Only when your plans are stupid!”

A whisper came through the cell bars. She blinked her eyes open and sat up quickly. “Here to tell me I’m a traitor again?” She called out into the dark. 

“I’m actually here to rescue you but I can call you a traitor if you want.” 

(Y/N) never thought she’d be so happy to hear that voice. “Sokka!” She exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Where are Aang and Katara?” 

“It was too dangerous for either of them to come. I snuck on the ship to come break you out.” He jingled a set of keys in his hand. “Got these from the guard I managed to knock out. Impressive, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah, my hero. Now open the door!” Sokka unlocked her cell. She turned around and he quickly made work of her ties. Once she was free, she stretched her hands and fingers, happy to feel the warm sensation of fire underneath her fingertips. “How’d you get onto the boat?” 

“I took a small rowboat and tied it to the mast. If the waves stay calm, it should still be there.” 

“And if they don’t?” 

“I guess we’re in for a swim,” Sokka shrugged. She smiled at him nervously before grabbing his hand and making a run for it. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, but she let her feet lead her anyway. Her goal was to get to the top deck without running into any Fire Nation soldiers. Of course, luck wasn’t always on her side. 

They encountered soldiers at nearly every corner they turned. Luckily, they were so shocked to see the prisoner out of her cell and a Water Tribe boy that they had very little time to react before she and Sokka were knocking them out. 

The pair reached the top deck and doubled over on their knees, breathing heavily. Sokka helped her to her feet and led her to the side of the ship where his boat was. They looked down to make sure it was still there. 

“Perfect,” he breathed out as his eyes saw the boat. “You hop down first.” 

“What? No way! I’m the one that can actually firebend here. You go first so you don’t get hurt.” 

“Do you always have to argue with me?” 

“Only when your plans are stupid!” 

A column of flame shot past the two of them, missing their bodies by only inches. They looked at each other in surprise before (Y/N) quickly hid Sokka behind her own body. She shot fire balls from her hands back at the attacker. The smoke from their attacks dissipated quickly, revealing Zuko. He launched himself in the air, kicking flames at her face. She sent fire wheel after fire wheel at him until he was completely surrounded. She turned to Sokka. 

“You have to go.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you again.” As her back was turned, Zuko rushed towards her. Sokka reacted quicker than she could and used the force of his body to knock Zuko to the ground. She flinched as she heard the breath get knocked out of Zuko’s body. 

Before she could turn back to look at him, Sokka was grabbing her hand and pulling her over the edge of the ship. She yelled as they fell, but Sokka pulled her body into his to shield her from the impact of the water. 

She emerged from the dark waters with a gasp of air and scramble around frantically to find her friend. “I’m right here,” he said. He led her to the boat and lifted her up inside it. She collapsed on the floor of the boat, coughing water out of her lungs. Sokka climbed in after her and immediately began rowing them back to shore, where Katara and Aang were waiting. 

She breathed heavily as Sokka rowed before slowly sitting up. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t like the idea of anyone rescuing me but...I’m glad it was you.” She coughed again and rubbed her neck, her face becoming hot. “I mean, I’m glad you did it.” 

“Even if you do annoy me, you’re still part of our family now. Plus, it’s kinda cool to actually see you use your firebending.” She smiled. “Especially against Zuko, man, it really seemed like he had something personal against you.” 

She laughed bitterly. “I guess you could say that.” It hurt, knowing that Zuko viewed her as a traitor, but it hurt worse knowing what the Fire Nation had turned him into. He was irrational and angry and almost nothing like the Zuko she used to know. 

(Y/N) hated crying, but ever since she had left the Fire Nation, she had been doing a lot of it. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she noticed Sokka looking at her. He stopped rowing to scoot closer to her. “Are you okay?” She wiped furiously at her eyes and cheeks before shaking her head. 

“Zuko and I used to be best friends.” Sokka inhaled a sharp breath. “And we kinda, sorta, were almost engaged.” This time, Sokka let out a whole gasp. “He didn’t always used to be like this, I promise! He was nice and we used to do everything together. I hadn’t seen him in over two years and then when we finally saw each other again...” She gestured loosely around them. “It hurts a lot, barely recognizing someone you cared about so much.” 

Sokka remained silent for a few moments as he stared at her. Then, taking her hand in his own, he tilted her head up to look at him. “I know how much it hurts, losing someone you love. But it gets better. I promise.” 

She smiled sadly. “Thank you, Sokka.” She pulled away from his touch but touched her own face where his hand once was. It felt tingly. 

“Besides,” Sokka said as he started rowing again. “You’re way too awesome to date someone with a horrible ponytail.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t contain her laughter.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The adventures (Y/N) shared with her friends happened at almost every turn. They narrowly evaded escape from Admiral Zhao, had visited the Northern Air Temple and flown on gliders for the first time, and had travelled to the Northern Water Tribe so that Katara and Aang could master waterbending. Their trip to the north had resulted in disastrous circumstances. Once again, (Y/N) had to fight against not only her nation, but one of her old friends. It saddened her deeply to fight against people she had once loved, even if she knew she was doing it for the right reasons. 

The battle in the North had strengthened the group’s friendship exponentially. No longer did (Y/N) feel like she was an outsider, or that she needed to tread carefully in what she said to her friends. She was able to laugh around the campfire with them and also make them laugh, like the time she had told them she had accidentally caught Zuko’s pants on fire when they were children. She felt comfortable and, most importantly, she felt safe. 

She developed a different kind of relationship with each member of their small family. Aang, although older than her but somehow younger at the same time, had become averse to firebending ever since he had accidentally burned Katara. He made (Y/N) promise not to try to teach him and resolved that he would take down the Fire Lord without firebending. She knew it was impossible, but he seemed so upset about it that she agreed. Instead, they spent their time together exchanging history. Aang told her what it was like growing up one hundred years ago, and (Y/N) filled him in on everything he had missed since then. Even the small stuff, like the invention of bubblebaths. 

Katara had more than warmed up to her since (Y/N) first joined their group. (Y/N) had really tried to make an effort with Katara, since some part of her felt responsible for her mother’s death. They cooked together, did the laundry together, and even walked into town together when the boys weren’t paying attention. They eventually became so comfortable around each other that she had poured out her life’s story to Katara on one rainy afternoon. After she was done talking, she realized that when speaking with Katara, she didn’t fear disappointment or apathy. Instead, her Water Tribe friend provided her with the best advice she could give, and a hug warmer than any she’d had in the Fire Nation. 

It was Sokka and (Y/N)’s relationship that took the most drastic turn. After their experience in the Northern Water Tribe and his loss of Yue, Sokka quit his small digs at her. He knew that she understood what it was like, to lose someone that you loved. Their time together was no longer filled with snide comments about the other’s upbringing; instead, Sokka had been teaching her how to fight! She knew some martial arts, since it was the basis of firebending, but she had never fought with a weapon before. On relaxed days, they trained together. She taught him hand-to-hand combat and he taught her how to fight with a sword. 

“You’re a fast learner,” Sokka said after one of their lessons. They sat together at the edge of the lake they had camped beside. He used a stick and a piece of string with a hook on the end to create a make-shift fishing pole. 

She smiled at the compliment. “Wish I could say the same about you.” He shoved her and she laughed. “You’re not too bad yourself. You know I can’t give you a regular compliment. It’d go to that big head of yours.” Despite himself, Sokka let out a smile. 

“You’re so mean to me,” he said. “Are you this mean to all of your friends?” 

“Only to the ones I especially like.” She thought back to her time in the Fire Nation. She could do that now, without getting very sad about it. “Back home, I always had to watch what I said. I was around the royal family a lot, so it was rare when I could really say what was on my mind.” She turned to Sokka, squinting her eyes from the sun. “Teasing is just the way I show that I care. I don’t mean to be well, mean.” 

“I don’t really think you’re mean.” 

“Good,” she grinned, tucking her legs into herself. “Because you haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” 

“Have you guys caught anything yet?” Katara called out. “I’m starving!” 

She stood quickly, shot her flames at the water, and took the fish that floated to the top in her hands. “Coming!” She shouted before running back toward camp. Sokka gathered his things to run after her. 

“You let me fish for an hour when you could do that this whole time?” 

---

i know what this chapter looks like. and yes. but all in due time. 

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