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goldengalore · 1 year

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Intimacy

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Y/N hasn’t been intimate with someone in a long time, which makes her nervous about having sex with Harry for the first time.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: anxiety, smut (featuring soft dom!harry, fingering, thigh riding, oral - m receiving)

A/N: This is one last idea (for now) that I had for the anxious!reader universe. Lots of smut, but it’s very soft and sweet and full of love :)

***

His hands. Y/N can’t stop staring at his hands.

There are a lot of things she finds attractive about Harry. Too many. It’s actually maddening how one person can have so many attractive qualities. Lately, her brain has decided to fixate on his hands. They’re pretty and elegant, strong and masculine.

His long fingers are often decorated with an ornate collection of rings. Sometimes his nails are painted with vibrant colours; other times, they’re unpainted but still clean and neatly trimmed. She can often see the veins that travel up the backs of his hands into his toned arms. He moisturizes them well too, so they rarely look dry.

Y/N would be lying if she said her obsession with Harry’s hands is completely innocent and merely about aesthetics, that she hasn’t imagined how those fingers would feel in her mouth or between her legs and orgasmed to the thought of that while lying alone in bed at night.

It doesn’t help that he’s a highly affectionate person, finding any excuse to place his hands on her whenever she’s within reach. Even now, as they lounge on his couch, he pulls her legs into his lap and begins massaging them. She’s wearing a knee-length dress today, leaving her lower legs exposed. His hands don’t move up past her knees, but that doesn’t stop her imagination from running wild anyway.

“Y/N?” His smooth, commanding voice—another annoyingly attractive feature of his—pulls her from her thoughts.

“Hmm?” Her eyes flick up to his emerald ones staring back at her. She realizes with embarrassment that she hasn’t listened to a thing he’s said in the past minute or so.

“What were you staring at?” He glances down in his lap, where her gaze was just a few seconds ago.

“Oh, just your hands.”

His brows furrow slightly as he starts inspecting his hands, turning his palms up, then down. “Why? Something wrong with them?”

“No! No, they’re just… nice. Nice hands. That’s all. Sorry, what, um, what were you saying?”

A teasing smirk forms on his lips. “Nice hands, huh? Never heard that one before.”

She rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. “Please. I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times.”

“Mmm, not really.”

She narrows her eyes at him, not believing him for a second. His smirk broadens.

“Anyway,” he says, resting his hands back on her legs, “I was just saying that I really missed you last week.”

Now she feels even worse about zoning out on him. He’s been out of town this past week for work. They reunited just this morning after his flight landed back in LA.

“I missed you too, H.”

“This week made me realize something.”

Her heart skips a beat. “What?”

“Made me realize how much I hate being away from you. I know our friendship started over Zoom meetings and phone calls and whatnot since I was on tour, but…” He shrugs. “After spending time with you in person these past couple months, I can’t imagine being away from you for weeks or months at a time. I think I’d go mad.”

His confession feels like being swaddled in a warm blanket. While he was away, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about him. His fluffy hair and dimpled smile, his kind eyes and boyish laugh, even his cute nose consumed her thoughts from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she fell asleep at night. She found herself cursing the slow passage of time frequently throughout the week. To hear that her feelings were reciprocated makes her giddy inside.

When she takes a while to respond, he says, “I hope that wasn’t too intense. It’s just been on my mind lately and I had to say it.”

“No, I feel the same way.” I think I’m in love with you, she says in her head but struggles to speak aloud. She has never been the first to say those words in a relationship.

He smiles, relieved. “Okay, good.” He holds her gaze for a few seconds, then shifts closer, her legs still strewn across his lap. His hand comes up to cradle her jaw as he leans in for a kiss, sucking her top lip into his mouth.

She scoots even closer, practically sitting in his lap now. The movement causes her dress to ride up. Harry rests his other hand on her bare thigh, squeezing it lightly. Her heart quickens. His hand inches along her inner thigh, hiking her dress up even further. Suddenly, her whole body tenses up and she shrinks away from his touch.

“Sorry, I—I can’t,” she stammers, quickly removing her legs from his lap and tugging her dress back down.

She sneaks a glance at his face and detects some hurt there. It lasts for a split second, but her brain registers it anyway. She feels awful. This is the second time he has tried to get intimate with her beyond just kissing. The first was the night before he was supposed to fly out of the city. They were cuddling in his bed. She was giving him all the signs that she wanted to take things further—letting her hands roam all over his body, grinding her hips against him—but as soon as he started returning her touches, she pulled away.

It’s frustrating because she fantasizes about it all the time, yet when it finally starts to happen, she freezes up. It’s like her mind and body are on completely different pages.

“I’m sorry, H,” she repeats.

“It’s all right.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “You’re not ready for that. I understand.”

“But I am ready. I just…” She looks up at the ceiling as if the answers to her puzzling emotions will be there. “Ugh! I don’t know.”

A long silence stretches between them, though it probably feels longer in her head than it is in reality.

“I should go,” she finally says, rising to her feet, but he grabs her hand before she can go anywhere.

“Already? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

“But I made things awkward!”

“No, you didn’t. Stop that.”

She was trying to avoid his gaze, but he tugs on her hand to make her look at him.

“We’ve been apart for a whole week. You think I’m letting you run off that easily?” He frowns a bit. “Wait, that sounded creepier than I’d intended.”

She giggles, feeling somewhat lighter. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay.”

They order sushi for dinner and crack open a bottle of wine. The awkwardness she felt earlier fades as Harry starts telling her about a deep conversation he shared with the five-year-old girl sitting next to him on his flight. Y/N is glad she decided to stay because if she had gone home to spend the night by herself, her overthinking mind would have eaten her alive.

After dinner, they transfer back over to the couch with their wineglasses in hand. They sit cross-legged, facing each other. The wine has helped her loosen up some more, granting her the courage to explain why she’s been so reluctant to get intimate with him.

“I’m not a virgin,” she tells him. “I know it probably seems that way because of how I act every time we try to do anything sexual, but I’m not. Not that there’s anything wrong with being one, obviously. I just thought you should know.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Although he doesn’t press any further, his eyes are curious and attentive in a way that makes her want to spill everything, just lay out all her secrets and fears and insecurities in a big, messy pile in front of him.

“I’m not a virgin, but I haven’t had sex in years,” she explains. “And I’ve always had to have a few drinks before doing it. I tried doing it sober once, and it was a total disaster. I was on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, and the guy didn’t know what to do. I just told him to keep going, so he did until he finished and—”

“Lovie, that’s not okay,” he interjects, brows pinching together in concern. “He should’ve stopped when he realized you were having a panic attack.”

“Well, to be fair, I told him to keep going. It was totally consensual.”

“Still. He should’ve at least stopped to make sure you were all right. Seems like basic human decency to me.”

“I guess....” She shrugs, knowing that he’s right but not wanting to think about it much longer. “Anyway, after he finished, he told me that having sex with me was like fucking a scared baby deer.” She forces a laugh, though the memory still makes her cringe inside. “Needless to say, I was mortified and never saw him again. And that’s the only time I’ve had sex while sober.”

“And all the times you weren’t sober, did you at least enjoy it?”

She hesitates. “Um, define enjoy.”

He appears even more concerned now. “If you’re having to ask that question, I’m afraid the answer is no. If you enjoyed it, you would know.”

“Well, I just asked because if by ‘enjoy,’ you mean ‘did I orgasm during it,’ then it’s a no. But my anxiety was a lot more under control, so I guess that could be considered a form of enjoyment… Right?”

Rather than answering her question, he asks, “You’ve never orgasmed during sex?”

She shakes her head. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but her cheeks still feel like they’re on fire.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

“Oh, plenty. When I’m alone, that is.”

“I see.” He rubs his jaw and looks away, sinking deep into thought. She can’t read the expression on his face.

“So, now you know how bad I am at sex,” she jokes to fill the silence.

He looks at her with a raised brow. “I don’t know about that. If anything, it’s the guys you’ve been with who were bad at sex if they couldn’t even make you come once.”

“Oh no, they were all very experienced.” Y/N doesn’t know why she’s defending these men, as if they would do the same for her. Perhaps it’s because she’s spent her whole life thinking she was the problem and this is the first time someone has suggested a different perspective to the one she’s become so accustomed to.

“Experience doesn’t always equate to being good at something.”

“I guess not.” She bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I do want to try again… with you. I just don’t know how to stay calm without having a few drinks in my system.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to work on that.”

His use of the word “we” doesn’t go unnoticed by her. We, as in this is our problem, not just yours. We, as in we’ll figure this out together, you don’t have to do it alone. She feels a surge of something in her chest, and the only term she can think of to describe it is love.

“I’m calm right now,” she says with sudden realization, placing her wineglass on the table so quickly that it almost topples over. “So, technically, we could try again—”

“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not having sex for the first time while you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk drunk though. Just a bit tipsy. I think we could still—”

“Y/N, it’s not happening,” he states firmly. “Other guys might have been okay with that sort of thing, but I’m not, okay?”

Her shoulders slump. She looks down in her lap. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just want you to know that I want it as much as you do.”

“I know. Hey”—he tilts up her chin—“we’ll get there. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

He has no idea how much of a relief it is to hear those words. Her biggest fear this whole time has been him losing interest in her because she can’t seem to get over her anxiety around sex. It’s happened before. Guys often expect her anxiety to disappear after the first time. When it doesn’t, they take it as a blow to their ego and react by making her feel like a freak for being anxious at all. The humiliation leads to even worse anxiety the next time she gets intimate with someone. It’s a vicious cycle.

She doesn’t want to get her hopes up or anything, but maybe that cycle finally ends with Harry.

***

When it comes to Y/N, Harry just doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Even before they met in person, he would dream of the day he could finally have her in his arms, how perfectly their bodies would mold together, how electrifying that first contact would be. For months, he’s been dying to touch and feel and kiss every inch of her, but after hearing about her sexual history, it’s no surprise why she’s so hesitant to take that step with him.

Taking things slow is not a problem for Harry. If anything, he feels lucky to be the one who gets to show her how fun and exciting and stress-relieving sex can be when the people involved actually care about each other’s pleasure.

It’s been a few days since that initial conversation. They’ve had several more discussions about it since then, and he thinks they’re ready to try something now.

He stares at Y/N lying on his bed, looking cute and cozy in his forest green Pleasing crewneck. Her lips are swollen from all their making out, her neck and collarbone littered with red spots where he licked and sucked on her skin like an ice cream cone.

“Question for you,” he says, leaning his head on his palm. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

“Hmm… A couple days ago?”

“Would you feel comfortable doing that in front of me?”

Her eyes widen. “Y—you want to watch me touch myself?”

“Only if you’re okay with it.” Her reaction already indicates that she’s not.

“Oh, I… I don’t think I am,” she admits, confirming his thoughts. “I mean, I don’t even like being watched while I cross the street. It’s like I forget how to walk.”

“Okay, different question. How would you feel about getting in a bath with me?”

She thinks about it. “I’d be okay with that.”

He runs them a bath lightly scented with a lavender oil he bought recently, while Y/N leans against the doorway and watches. Once he begins to undress, she follows suit. Starting with his crewneck, she removes her clothes at an extremely slow pace, as if she’s on the verge of changing her mind at any moment. He finishes undressing before she does and pretends not to notice her eyes bulging at the sight of his dick. Instead, he leans over to the tub to test the temperature of the water.

“I’ll get in first,” he says. “Then you can sit between my legs. Sound good?”

She swallows. “Yup.”

He steps into the tub and submerges everything but his head and upper chest into the water. His back rests against one side, his long legs outstretched in front of him.

In the meantime, Y/N finishes undressing. He forces himself not to stare, knowing that it’ll only make her more nervous. She moves quickly now, striding over to the tub and climbing in on wobbly legs. He holds out his hand for support.

“Careful,” he says.

She sits down between his legs with her back facing him. There’s still a lot of space between them.

“Just lean back against me,” he tells her.

She hesitates for a moment, then leans back until she’s flush against his torso.

He smiles. “There you go.”

“Okay, what now?”

“Nothing. Let’s just sit for a minute.”

They enjoy the next few minutes in companionable silence. The warm water seems to dissolve all the tension in her body, which is exactly why he suggested this idea in the first place. Her shoulders relax. She sinks deeper into him.

After a while, he says, “I’m going to try something. If you don’t like what I’m doing or you want me to stop, I need you to tell me. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. My ego can handle it. Okay?”

She responds with a tiny nod.

“I need you to answer me verbally, lovie,” he says softly in her ear. “Just so I can be sure we’re on the same page.”

“Yes. Got it. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Don’t have to apologize.”

“Sorry,” she says again, automatically. “Fuck! Sorr— Shit! Why do I keep—” She starts to sit up, but he places a hand in the middle of her chest, gently pulling her back against him. He can feel her heart galloping like a racehorse.

“Y/N, relax. You’re okay. You’re doing great. Just breathe.”

She inhales a deep, shaky breath, then releases it.

“That’s good. Keep doing that.”

Her heartrate gradually decreases with each breath she takes. Once she appears to have calmed down, he moves his hand from the centre of her chest to one of her breasts, cupping it tenderly in his palm. His other hand comes to rest on her belly before making its descent between her legs. She squirms a little once the pads of his fingers make contact with her clit.

“Are we okay?” he asks.

“Y—yeah.” She takes another deliberate breath.

He rubs her clit in small, tight circles and kneads her breast at the same time. Her hands rest at her sides on top of his thighs. As he pinches her nipple, twisting and pulling it lightly, her fingers dig into his thighs and his cock twitches between their bodies. He wonders if she felt it. His middle finger prods around her slit now and slips inside without resistance. He pumps it in and out a few times before adding a second one, using his thumb to rub her clit.

Y/N is completely silent, but the slick substance coating her pussy and the subtle rocking of her hips is confirmation enough that she’s enjoying this. He peeks at her face to find her eyes closed and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth like she’s afraid of accidentally making a sound.

That is another thing they’ll need to work on. Harry likes being vocal during sex and equally enjoys when his lovers are vocal too. He doesn’t want Y/N to hold anything back around him. But they can work on that another day.

“Does this feel good?” he asks.

She nods, then remembers what he said earlier and answers out loud, “Feels good, yes. Really good.”

Satisfied by her response, he presses a third finger inside and pushes all three of them deep into her with every thrust, turning her into a squirming, quivering mess in his arms. Her back arches off his torso as she comes, the smallest whimper slipping through her self-restraint. He gradually lessens the stimulation on her clit, then removes his fingers completely. She lets her head roll back against his shoulder.

“Wow,” she sighs. “I’ve never… That’s never happened with someone before.”

“Wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“No, it was great. Um… thank you?”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

Suddenly, she sits up and looks over her shoulder at him. “So… your turn now?”

He waves his hand, splashing some of the water with it. “Don’t worry about that.”

She frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs casually, trying to act cool as if he can’t feel his dick throbbing furiously under the water right now.

He could take her up on the offer, but he wants to focus on her today. Y/N is too nice to admit it, but he has deduced from their recent conversations that her previous partners were too greedy in the bedroom, exploiting her selfless nature for their own benefit. It’s quite unfortunate. Someone like her deserves to be spoiled, not exploited. At least now that she’s with him, he can make sure she gets the treatment she deserves.

After they’ve cleaned up and stepped out of the tub, he grabs one of the towels off the counter and starts handing it to her, then stops.

“Can I dry you off?” he asks.

She seems surprised but not opposed to the idea. “Sure.”

“Okay, just one moment.” He quickly pats himself dry, then grabs the other towel and walks over to her.

Timid eyes gaze up at him. They fall shut as he raises the towel to her face and dabs away all the little water droplets. Next, he moves down to her neck, shoulders, chest, and so on… After he’s done with her upper body, he sinks down to his knees on the mat and works on her lower half, taking his sweet time and humming softly to himself. He glances up to find her smiling at him.

Once her entire body is dry, he leans forward and plants a kiss to her belly before standing up with the towel thrown over his shoulder. Y/N’s eyes follow him as if in a trance.

“All good?”

She just blinks at him.

“Y/N?”

“I’m in love with you.” The words rush out of her like a whoosh of air that had been trapped in a sealed container. “God, it feels weird saying it out loud. It’s been in my head for so long and I didn’t want to say it because that makes it feel more… real.”

“Why’s that a bad thing?”

She doesn’t reply.

“Because you think I don’t feel the same way?”

“Do you?” She winces slightly as if she’s bracing herself for possible rejection, as if the answer to that question could be anything but “absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent yes.”

“Of course I do, Y/N. I thought I’d made that pretty obvious.”

“You should know by now that nothing is obvious with me.”

It’s true. Even when they were just friends and Harry began dropping hints that he wanted to be more than that, they pretty much all went over her head. Y/N is a smart woman; she just happens to be totally oblivious when it comes to love and romance, which he finds deeply endearing about her.

“Well, take this as your confirmation that I am, in fact, very much in love with you,” he states, taking her face in his hands and giving her a big, sloppy smooch on the lips, which she accepts with a laugh.

***

“That’s it, lovie. Keep going. You’re doing amazing.”

Y/N rocks back and forth on Harry’s thigh, her cunt positioned directly over his tiger tattoo. His thick, firm quads provide the perfect amount of friction against her needy clit.

A week ago, the idea of riding his thigh while he watched her would have made her extremely self-conscious. But since then, they’ve spent each night exploring each other’s bodies. He has given her several more orgasms with his fingers and mouth, while she has given him some with her hand. They’ve masturbated in front of each other. One night, he gave her a full-body massage that turned her on so much that he hardly even had to touch her clit to make her come.

She doesn’t mind being watched anymore. Not by Harry, at least. His gaze is never judgemental or critical. She doesn’t need to fret over saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining the moment. This has made her fall even more head over heels for him.

“Look so pretty getting yourself off on my thigh like this,” he says, toying with her breasts.

A moan starts to leave her mouth until she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to trap it in. Harry reaches up and drags her lip back down with his thumb.

“Let me hear you,” he says. “Wanna hear how good this makes you feel.” He grips her chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping her mouth open.

She’s close now, the heat of her orgasm building in her core. Her hips grind faster against him. He lifts up his thigh to heighten the pressure on her clit. The tight knot in her lower abdomen unravels, and she comes with a loud moan, soaking his thigh with her juices.

“You make the sweetest sounds when you come,” he says, releasing her chin.

She pecks him on the lips and, before she’s even recovered from her orgasm, gets on her knees between his legs.

He frowns. “What are you doing?”

She looks at him like it should be obvious. “Returning the favour?” As she begins to reach for his cock, he grabs her wrist.

“Nope,” he says. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you have to pay me back for every orgasm. Sex doesn’t have to be so transactional, you know?” The smirk on his face conveys that he’s joking, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from having the sudden, embarrassing realization that perhaps she does treat sex like it’s transactional and just wasn’t aware of it until now.

“I—I know that,” she fibs a little. “I just want to make you feel good.” That part, at least, is not a lie.

Harry has been spoiling her heavily this past week, which has been delightful. She can tell he’s making every effort to gain her trust in the fact that he doesn’t expect anything in return for how incredible he makes her feel. But Y/N likes making him feel good too. She likes the way he hisses and shudders when she finds his most sensitive spots. She likes watching his usual composure crumble simply from her touch. She lives for it.

“Please?” she adds to her request, giving him her best doe eyes.

“Okay,” he says. “If you really want to.”

“I do.”

He lets go of her wrist, allowing her to reach for his stiff cock again. Nerves make her hands tremble, as she remembers how long it’s been since she gave someone a blowjob. She wants it to be perfect, but realistically, she’ll probably be a bit rusty.

She strokes him in her hand and runs her tongue along the underside of his shaft until, finally, she feels ready to take him in her mouth. Her lips wrap around his tip and slowly move down his length, tongue gliding against him. She considers deep-throating, then decides against it because it’s been way too long since she’s done it and she needs time to work up to it again. Any insecurity she felt about that disappears the moment she glances up at Harry. His eyes are closed and jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

Emboldened by the look of absolute ecstasy on his face, she bobs her head up and down his shaft and massages his balls with her hand. She moans around him, and he releases a low groan at the sensation it produces. Then she lets his entire length slip from her mouth, teasing him by flicking her tongue over his tip and leaving little kisses along his shaft until his fingers are weaving through her hair in desperation.

“Didn’t know you could be such a tease,” he says with a breathy laugh.

She grins innocently, then takes him into her mouth again, determined to suck him to completion this time. His hand feels good in her hair. She imagines him holding her head in place while he fucks her mouth. She never thought she would be into that sort of thing until now.

“I’m gonna come soon, Y/N,” he warns her as he gets close.

She doesn’t pull away. He thinks she didn’t hear him, so he repeats himself. She makes eye contact to convey that she heard him, that she wants him to come in her mouth, which he does moments later. She relishes the taste of it, swallowing every last drop. As she draws back and wipes her mouth clean, he stares at her in amazement.

“You’re really fucking good at that,” he tells her.

“Thanks! I had this boyfriend in college who only wanted blowjobs all the time since that didn’t involve having to make me come, which was basically impossible for him. He was kind of demanding, but he taught me how to give a damn good blowjob.”

Harry grimaces. “You know, the more I learn about your previous partners, the more I want to hit them over the head with something.”

She laughs. “I think I make them seem meaner than they were.”

“No, I think you make them seem nicer than they were.” He pats his thigh. “Get up here.”

She stands up and sits on his thigh with her legs dangling between his this time. His arm wraps around her back.

Locking his eyes on hers, he says, “You are worth so much more than being some guy’s blowjob dispenser, all right?”

“I know, I know,” she says. “I was just young and naive back then, but I know better now.”

“Good. Don’t ever let any man or woman treat you that way. Okay?”

His eyes are so full of care and concern for her that she thinks she might just cry.

“Okay,” she replies.

***

Harry loves writing about the initial euphoria that comes with falling in love. It’s intoxicating and exhilarating and all-consuming. Many of his most successful songs were inspired by this peculiar feeling. It’s no wonder that he keeps heading into the studio lately to harness all this creative energy and inject it into his music.

Today, Tom, Tyler, and Mitch are all in the studio with him. Mitch is riffing on his guitar while Harry adlibs over it when Jeff pokes his head into the room.

“H, Y/N’s here to see you,” he says.

Harry raises his brows. “She is?” She didn’t tell him that she’d be visiting the studio today.

“Yeah, she’s waiting out front.”

“Is she all right? Did she say why she’s here?”

Jeff shrugs. “No clue. She seemed fine.”

Y/N always seems “fine.” She’s quite skilled at pretending everything is okay when it’s not, which can be rather concerning. Harry tells the guys he’ll be back, then heads to the front of the studio where he finds his girlfriend staring at a wall decorated from top to bottom with framed album covers of legendary musicians.

“Hi, darling,” he says as he approaches.

She turns to him, eyes illuminating as soon as they meet his. “Hi! Sorry, I told Jeff not to go get you, but he did anyway.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “I hope you weren’t in the middle of something. I swear if you were writing your next Grammy-winning single and I just ruined your flow, I’ll be so mad at myself.”

“Stop it. You haven’t ruined anything.” He steps closer, taking her hands. “Now tell me what brought you here. Are you okay?”

He studies her as she replies, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m not here for any particular reason. I just…” She hesitates. “I needed to see you.” As soon as she says it, her eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck, that sounds so needy.”

“That’s okay. We all get needy sometimes. Do you want to sit in the studio with me?”

She bites her lip, giving it some thought before shaking her head.

“Okay.” He brings her hands between their bodies, swinging them apart and together again. “Then tell me what you need.”

“I—I need…” She glances down in the general direction of his crotch.

A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “You need…?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”

He tilts his head to side, feigning innocence. “Say what?”

“Baby…”

He wanted to make her say it, but the pleading look in her eyes makes him cave. “You need my cock, is that it?”

“Shhh! Not so loud!” Her head spins around to make sure no one heard them.

He laughs. “There’s no one around, lovie.”

“Still!” She sighs and presses her hands against her flaming cheeks. “It’s not fair. You’ve been teasing me with it this whole week, and it’s all I can think about. Couldn’t even focus on my art today because I kept thinking about how…”—she drops her voice to a barely audible whisper—“how you would feel inside me.”

It’s been exactly a week since Y/N first hinted that she’s ready to go all the way with him. Harry was the one who wanted to put it off a little longer. He predicted that if he made her wait long enough, her hunger for it would overpower any anxiety that might crop up during the act.

Smiling, he brings his hand up to her cheek, her skin hot against his cool palm. “Aw, I know, sweetheart. You know the only reason I’ve been teasing is to make sure you’re ready for it.”

“I know. And I’m ready now. I really am.”

“Okay, but we can’t exactly do it here, you know that?”

“Why not? Isn’t there a bathroom in here somewhere?” She pushes up on her toes to look over his shoulder down the hallway where he came from.

“We’re not fucking in the studio bathroom, Y/N.”

She groans and lifts her hands up to his chest, scrunching his shirt between her fingers. “But I can’t wait any longer!”

“Yes, you can.” He wraps his hands around her wrists. “You’re going to be a good girl for me and wait until I pick you up from your flat tonight.”

She pouts and concedes, “Fine.”

He kisses her pout and gives her a hug that lasts for several minutes because she doesn’t want to let go and he never lets go until she does, so they’re in a standoff for who’s going to let go first until finally, Y/N releases him.

After that, the rest of the day moves at a snail-like pace. Harry can hardly focus; he’s too distracted by the thought of what’s to come tonight. Every lyric he comes up with sounds too raunchy to put in an actual song. Even his friends jokingly speculate about why he’s acting so strange—especially Tom, who just loves to make him squirm.

That evening, he has to make a conscious effort not to speed all the way to Y/N’s flat. The plan was to pick her up, take her back to his place, and maybe eat dinner before having their fun, but he thinks he’ll have to skip most of those steps.

Y/N buzzes him into her building. She’s on the second floor, so he doesn’t even bother with the elevator and takes the stairs two at a time. As soon as she lets him in, his mouth is on hers. She kisses him right back, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing up against him. They make their way to her bedroom and remove all their clothes, ending up on the bed with him on top of her.

“Naughty girl,” he says between kisses to her neck. “Came all the way to the studio because you were needy for my cock, hm?”

She covers her face with her hands. “H, don’t tease! I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

He gently pulls her hands away from her face. “Don’t be embarrassed. Do you have any idea how sexy it is that you want me that badly? Got me all hot and bothered at the studio. Could barely keep myself together for the rest of the day.”

A mischievous little grin makes its way onto her face. “Really?”

“Yes, really. That’s the effect you have on me.” His hand drifts down between her legs to find that she’s already drenched, so he grabs his cock and runs the tip up and down her slit. When he looks back up at her face, there’s a hint of apprehension that wasn’t there before. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just remembered that I haven’t had something so, uh”—she swallows, glancing down at his cock—“big inside me in a while.”

“Do you want to be on top? That way, you can go at your own pace.”

“What if my pace is too slow and you can’t come?”

“What if I come two seconds after I’m inside you? Would you still love me?”

“Of course!”

“There’s your answer then.”

She squints at him, her lips curving up. “Well played.”

They switch positions so that she’s on top of him, straddling his hips while he leans back against the headboard. She carefully guides his cock up to her entrance, inserting the tip before lowering herself onto him. Her tight walls stretch and expand to accommodate him. She winces from the discomfort. He massages her hips, reminding her to take her time.

It takes her several attempts to get him all the way in, but once he’s there, the feeling is indescribable. He curses under his breath, closing his eyes briefly.

“Is that okay?” she asks.

“Perfect,” he responds in a strained voice. “It’s perfect.”

She seems reassured by his response and starts moving her hips in slow circles, getting used to having him inside her. Then she lifts up and sinks all the way down again. Soon enough, she’s riding him at a steady pace, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts swaying gorgeously in his face, beckoning him to place his hands over them. He has pictured this moment so many times, he can’t believe that it’s finally happening.

He starts thrusting up into her, meeting her halfway. As his thrusts become sharper, her jaw drops open.

“Harry—”

The sound of his name slipping out of her mouth like that, all salacious and full of yearning, is a drug he can see himself getting addicted to.

“Please,” she whines.

He slows down, worried that he might have been too rough. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just— Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”

“Feels good, huh? Someone finally fucking you like you deserve?”

She nods, her eyes rolling back as he resumes the movement of his hips.

“This is what it’s supposed to feel like,” he tells her. “Remember this.”

“Oh, I will.” She barely finishes her sentence before he pounds into her again.

He feels himself about to crest and reaches down to rub her clit. A final medley of moans and grunts leave their mouths as they come. Her pussy spasms around his pulsing length. As the waves of pleasure subside, her body goes completely slack in his arms, worn out from the intensity of the experience they just shared. She rests her head against his shoulder, basking in the afterglow while he brushes his fingers through her hair.

Her soft voice breaks through the silence. “I didn’t know it could feel this good. I’ve been missing out.”

“We’ve got plenty of time to catch you up. Don’t you worry.” He kisses the side of her head, earning a contented sigh from her.

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #domrry #dom!harry #anxious!reader #my writing

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danikamariewrites · 6 months

Note

Could I request part 2 for Inventor, where reader gets kidnapped by Baron so that they can make things exclusively for him. And the motiv behind this is that the reader refused to share one of there inventions with him because they knew he would use it for himself and not share it with his people 🙄

Hope this isn't too big of an ask, happy writing!!

Myth

Azriel x reader

A/n: you can read Inventor here! Also this is a long one lol

Warnings: kidnapping, mentions of torture, injuries, some violence, and some typos bc I don’t think I got them all sorry

A guard ripped off your blindfold violently, almost taking a fistful of your hair with it. You blinked rapidly adjusting to your surroundings.

You sat tied to an old wooden chair in an ornate office decorated in the colors of autumn.

Well shit. If you knew mouthing off in the last High Lords meeting would land you here you would’ve kept your mouth shut.

No you wouldn’t have.

Beron clearly wanted something from you. And you had a feeling you knew what it was. Azriel’s spies had gathered intel that Beron had been keeping what was found in the mines a secret. The guesses had been anything from rare metals to ancient fae weapons.

Footsteps from the hall grew closer until the door creaked open. You counted eight people, seven guards and Beron. Two guards approach you, lifting your chair to bring you face to face with Autumn’s High Lord.

He was casually leaning against his desk, flipping through a file on his desk you were sure had your name on it. “If it isn’t little miss know-it-all. I’m so glad you could join us.” His tone was sickly sweet and each word dripped with a sick sarcasm. It made your stomach do flips before tying your intestines in a knot.

You didn’t know how long you’d be able to hold out. You’re not trained like Azriel. You can’t fight and you definitely won’t do well under torture. But you’d do your best for him, for your court.

“Let’s see here,” he drawls, flipping open the file. “Multiple awards since the start of your university days, graduated the top of your class, and come highly suggested from three out of seven High Lords. You’ve been around the world and co-discovered countless new technologies.” You knew where this was going.

You had been backed into this corner before by powerful men. They were less powerful than Beron and you had never been tired up before, but that’s beside the point. You wanted to snip back at him but now seemed like a good time to hold your tongue.

When Beron looked at you he had a raised brow and a confused scowl on his lips. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath, pulled your lips super tight, and were holding your eyes open really wide. You’re not the greatest in social situations. Letting out a huff you try to relax into the rickety wood chair. “What do you want from me?”

An evil smirk slowly pulled at his lips. “I need you to…reinvent an old weapon for me.” His spies were right in their guesses. Cauldron, you didn’t even want to think about what this weapon could do. “And if I refuse?” You couldn’t help the tremble in your voice or the slight wobble of your lip. “You have two hours to decide. If you don’t we’ll make sure the shadowsinger gets your body back.” His tone told you it would be in pieces.

Beron adjusted his jacket rousing his desk to sit. Two more guards appeared in front of you as they untied you, switching out the ropes for metal shackles. As the ushered you out into the hall you saw Eris waiting for you. The tall male looked calm and composed. You knew on the inside he was panicking due to the rash decision his father made. Eris roughly grabbed your upper arm dragging you to his side. “I will escort her.”

“We were commanded by the High Lord to take her.” The guard that shackled you said. Eris raised a brow, wearing a similar expression to his father’s. “Then you can accompany us.” You began the long trek down to the dungeons of the Forest House. You kept your head down the whole way knowing that if you looked up at Eris you’d give everything away. All the secrets you’ve kept all the meticulous planning your mate and brother-in-laws have accomplished would be for nothing with a single pleading look.

A guard opened the bared cell door as Eris kept your arm in his firm grip. Shoving you onto the cold stone to keep up the facade Eris slammed the door shut behind you.

You held your hands out to break your fall. As your knees hit the floor your hands skid across the stone floor. You suck in a breath, pushing yourself to sit against a wall to inspect your hands. Your palms are red and fresh cuts litter your skin. You press them against your pants to stop the stinging pain.

Eris scoffs at you. “Pathetic. I’ll be back in an hour to see if you’ve made your decision. Think fast little tinkerer.” He teases, turning away on his heel without giving you a second look he and the guards leave you.

You are not going to cry, you say to yourself. I am going to be smarter than Beron. I’m going to get out of this and Az and the rest of the group will come for me.

——

Rhys, Azriel, Cassian land on the balcony of the House of Wind entry way, returning home from Illyria. All three were hoping to find their mates waiting to embrace them. Instead they were greeted with silence. The brothers look to each other in confusion as Azriel sends out his shadows to search the house.

Taking a few more steps into the house they tensed at the sound of little footsteps rushing toward them. Nyx appeared, launching himself at his father, a little frown on his face. “Daddy!” Rhys scoops the little boy to his chest kissing the top of his head. Rhys could sense his little boy’s distress. “What’s wrong buddy?”

“They’ve been looking all day, but no one can find Auntie y/n.” Azriel’s eyes went wide. His heart stopped for a moment as he pulled on the bond, but nothing. Your side was dark. How could he not have felt that you were gone.

Gwyn and Elain came rushing in next followed by Lucien and two of Azriel’s shadows. “I found something!” The priestess exclaimed, waving a piece of paper in the air. Lucien immediately recognized it as stationary from Eris’s desk. He snatched it from Gwyn’s hand, his eyes moving quickly over the note as he took in each word. His face grew grim.

Finishing the note he looked to Azriel. A frown pulling at the males lips. “What!” The word came out loud and agitated. Lucien hesitantly handed the note to Azriel as he began to explain. “It’s from Eris. Y/n has been taken to Autumn. He’s not sure what Beron wants with her.”

Azriel’s hands were shaking with rage. Gwyn noticed, quickly taking Nyx from his father’s arms and rushing out before something drastic happened. With a look from Lucien Elain nodded her head, turning to follow Gwyn.

Azriel’s shadows began to swarm in a violent pattern. In and out, whispering in his ears as they pass by, threatening to plunge the foyer into darkness. Cassian gripped his shoulders tight. Forcing his brother to look at him. “We will get her Az. But you need a level head.” Azriel’s face was stuck in an angry scowl. His brows pinched and his hazel eyes darkened with rage. Azriel turned his head to look at Rhys. Giving the High Lord a look that said he would go to Autumn without permission if he had to.

Rhys pushed the males apart. “We can’t go in alone. We need more than us.” He looked to Lucien who shook his head. “I’m sorry. But I can’t go back there, not until he’s gone.” Rhys nodded in understanding. “We need the Valkyries with us then.”

“I won’t be subtle.” Azriel gritted out through clenched teeth. “I don’t expect you to be brother. Beron will answer for his crime of taking your mate, I swear it.” Some of the tension let up in Azriel’s body at the promise of Beron suffering. “Let’s get everyone together and head out.”

——

You had been staring at the wall willing yourself to feel nothing for the Mother knows how long. The stinging in your hands had subsided but your knees ached. They were definitely bruised but you couldn’t bring yourself to check. A door at the end of the hall opened, footsteps echoed down the narrow hall as they got closer to your cell. You prayed it was Eris returning alone.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the lordling staring at you. Eris leaned casually against the bars, like this was a casual meeting between friends. “So, what is it? He won’t tell anyone but the guards.” You blink rapidly to keep your tears away as you spoke. “It’s a weapon. I don’t what kind. He just wants me to rebuild it or fix it or whatever.” Your voice came out monotone. Truthfully you couldn’t be bothered with this conversation. You just want to be out of your cell. Eris let out a huff leaning back from the bars. He paced in a small circle before facing you again.

“I sent word to Lucien who has no doubt told your mate and the other two.” Your heart rate picked up at the mention of Azriel. You had tried to pull on the bond but no luck. When you were taken you were hit with a heavy dose of fae bane. It must still be in your system. Azriel and the others would be on their way soon.

“Tell him yes.” Eris froze, staring at you with wide eyes. “What?” He whisper yelled. You stood, slowly making your way to the cell door. “I’ll work on it. Take me to Beron.” Eris looked like he was torn. If he took you to Beron Azriel would make sure his death was slow and painful. “If you don’t take me I’ll just start yelling for the guards.” An uncomfortable pause fell between the two of you.

Opening your mouth as if to yell for a guard Eris shushed you. “Fine, fine I’ll take you.” The punishment his father would bestow upon him would be worse than Azriel if Beron found out Eris was with you when you made up your mind. Snapping on his mask of cruel heir Eris called for a guard. You were surrounded by the same group of guards as Eris brought you back up to the main house.

Beron met you at the entrance to the house looking smug. Like he’d already won this little game. “I’m glad you’ve made the right decision.” He leads you past his office to a room with two more guards posted at the door. They stand aside to let you, Beron, and the others through but not Eris. You don’t look at him in case your emotions betray you.

Beron gestured for you to sit at the work bench. He left the cuffs on you as a reminder that you are still a prisoner. Beron carefully removes the cloth hiding the weapon from you. You sucked in a harsh breath at the broken sword in front of you. This thing was supposed to be a myth. But here was the sword of the first High Lord of the Day court sitting in front of you. “The last known name for it was Claíomh Solais.”

You nodded along at Beron’s words. “The myth is that the first High Lord of Day received it as a gift from the Mother herself. He had kept the sun rising and as a thank you the Mother gave him Claíomh Solais so he could protect the day from his enemies who wanted eternal darkness.”

“Correct. My miners found it like this. Cut clean in two. Fix it, but add something more.” What else could Beron possibly want this thing to do? Even if you could fix it, the sword was powerful enough. You nod in agreement and he leaves without a word, keeping two guards inside and the two outside.

——

Azriel was vibrating with anticipation. They were right outside the house. You were in there and Beron was doing Cauldron knows what to you. Rhys laid a reassuring hand on Azriel’s shoulder. He felt Rhys tapping on his mental shields and opened them enough for Rhys to say, “Soon, we are just waiting on Eris.”

The doors to the Forest House swung open and Eris stepped out onto the landing. He strode back and forth until his eyes landed on where Azriel was keeping the six of them hidden with his shadows. Eris whistled as if he were calling his hounds telling Rhys to make his move. He reached out to the minds of the guards at the front of the house. Making sure none of them would be bothered by the presence of the Night Court.

Clearing the front garden and massive stone steps Eris lead them into the house. Azriel let his shadows loose to look for you. They had been restless since Azriel found out you were missing and they were eager to bring you back to their master.

Rhys kept his hold on the guards they passed while making sure the ones ahead stayed where they were as well. “This is over kill you know. I got him go back out to the mines for another look.” Nesta scoffed at him. “You think we’d risk y/n’s life on your word?” Eris rolled his eyes and kept walking fast. Coming up on the room where you were being kept Azriel threw out his arm, hitting Eris square in the chest and bringing the group to a halt. Shadows come flying back down the hall whispering their findings to Azriel about the guards and your wellbeing.

“Two in, two out. I’ll go, the rest of you guard Rhys.” Eris tried to get him to wait but Azriel stared running down the hall, a dagger in each hand. Azriel threw the daggers. Each finding their mark flawlessly in the throat a of the guards. Shadows caught the bodies from thudding to the floor, keeping them pressed against the wall as they continued to struggle for air. Azriel quickly rapped his knuckles on the door and stood to the side.

The door opened a crack for the guard to see. He squinted, cautiously opening the door he looked to one side. Before he was able to find Azriel he grabbed the guard by the back of his neck and twisted until he was lifeless in his arms. Azriel threw the male down on the floor entering the room. When his eyes landed on you the bond hummed to life in his chest. His protective instincts to get you to safety practically blinding him with rage. The last guard would be the one to unfortunately take the brunt of that anger.

Azriel punched, and punched, and punched until the sound of you crying out his name brought him back to his conscious self. Unable to hold your tears back you broke down. Azriel made his way over to you, picking you up bridal style. “It’s ok. It’s ok baby, I got you. We’re gunna get these off you when we get home, ok.” You nod vigorously against his chest as you were unable to get a word out thanks to your hysterical tears.

Before he could leave you pulled on his leathers for him to wait. With renewed adrenaline rushing through your body you fumbled your way around the work table. Your hands messily picking up a leather strap, the cloth, and stacked the two pieces of the sword on the cloth. You wrapped them up tight and clutched it to your chest. You turn to Azriel waiting for him to pick you up again.

Grabbing you he hurries back down the hall. You toss the wrapped up sword to Cassian for safe keeping as you all fled from the Forest House. Eris was no where in sight. You assumed he went to stall his father before he noticed you were missing.

Sunlight blinded you. Before your eyes could adjust darkness surrounded you and the world fell away. The salty air blowing off the Sidra pierced your nostrils, the sound of wings flapping calmed you as they slowly brought you to the house of wind.

Azriel fell to his knees on the marble floor. His warm scarred hands cradling your face as he rested his forehead against yours. He apologized over and over for not knowing you were gone. For leaving you as Beron’s prisoner for so long.

Rhys gently removed the cuffs from your wrist. You flung your arms around Azriel, telling him it was ok. That you’re safe with him now. Pulling away from him slightly you looked into his tear filled eyes. “I’m ok Az. You got me.” Your mate gives you a tight lipped smile, closing his eyes to force the last of his tears out. “I got you.” He whispered back.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel x y/n

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cirilee · 2 months

Text

Oranges put Isidor on the spot.

The way they defied Hive regulations.

An obscene fruit, so unashamed about its non-synthetic heritage, so unabashed in its presentation, so decadent, as its blinding hues brightened up the dull gray of McHale’s cell.

Teeyama Averon McHale’s decorative bowls were filled to the brim with them, overflowing. Currently, her right hand is lurking in between, her dark skin contrasting against the bright colors. She lifts up one tiny tangerine and it stops right in front of a face, that is nothing but Hive regulation standard, in the midst of all this opulence, as she sits in a chair, that isn’t just a chair.

It's beautiful, ornately detailed and stitched by hand. It is also, obscene.

McHale is bred for leadership. All soft and sweet, despite her age, and in the middle, piercing eyes that look beyond the surface.

Aryu Isidor Tichy feels naked.

He inches backwards.

His voice is low, “I’m honored you sent for me to entertain you again”

McHale smiles that charming taskmaster smile, that is supposed to put lower units at ease. Isidor is soothed by it, he really is. But something hasn’t been quite right with his thinking for a while. He can’t let himself be lulled into feeling safe, when he wasn’t.

McHale’s eyes seem too large, too shiny. Her oranges too insulting.

“I’m here to help you”, she says and she sounds so friendly and cute, “You’ve applied for reeducation?”

“Yes”

“Why?”

What an inane question.

The minute Isidor thinks that his eyes widen, his stance loosens, and he starts to sweat. He’s not supposed to doubt a taskmaster. Not even in his thoughts. Not even a little bit. No-

“Are you okay, Isidear?”

The pet name feels doubly humiliating, doubly insulting. Precisely because Isidor feels like he’s the one keeping with the rules, while McHale, his Teeyama, was decidedly not, was hoarding oranges as if one could just do that, as if it held no significance.

“I think I might have caught a dissident thoughtvirus”, Isidor says quietly. His thick shoulders square up, cage in his plump cheeks. “I think I might become a liability to the Hive”

McHale doesn’t stop smiling.

Which confuses Isidor. “That’s not good, Teeyama McHale …” he clarifies.

“It's not good at all, no”

She starts peeling the tangerine. Her fingers are now sticky and wet.

Disgusting.

Isidor flinches at his own thought. He quickly opens his mouth again, “Why haven’t you fulfilled my request?”

“For reeducation?”

Isidor nods.

Instead of explaining herself, McHale bites into the tangerine, completely forgoes the bite-sized pieces it's already made of, completely ignores how a tangerine is supposed to be eaten.

Drops of fruit juice spill onto the table underneath her.

The sound makes Isidor’s skin crawl and sweat even more. “I’m not used to tasks of this nature”

She says, “But you’ve excelled so far”

He cries, “Its highly unconventional”

She shrugs. “Its pretty simple”

It was. Objectively. Isidor’s tasks used to be comprised of low level engineering in the field of household robotics. Sometimes a whole automaton. A bit of programming on the side. And that’s it. Endless days of fixing cat food dispensers, and chatting up sexbots, and all in all feeling useful, feeling fulfilled, feeling … not stressed.

But then McHale took over his sector, and McHale, well.

Now he’s getting very specific, but simple tasks. Not all the time. But some of the time. Like now.

She gives one orange a little push. Makes it roll towards Isidor. Her hair sways up and down the tiniest amount, her non-regulation stiff curls like a halo around her head, as she continues to smile. She says, “I want you to eat this … ”

Isidor curls into himself, his wrinkles morphing his face into a near parody of disgust. It looked like he was playing it up. He wasn’t.

McHale continues, “ … and enjoy it”

By now, Isidor is whimpering. A man his age, early forties, big like a boulder, thinning curly hair, and even thinner beard hanging off of him, whimpering. It made an amusing image, and that fact was reflected in the way McHale started snickering.

“I will do what you ask of me Teeyama, but I cannot control my emotions. I have to protest against this heinous act being forced upon me!”

“Are you, a loyal and goodhearted unit of this Hive … defying a taskmaster?”, McHale whispers.

“NO!”, Isidor cries out, because of course, that would be even worse. “No, I- I’m sorry-” As he grumbles out more apologies he grabs the orange.

It tasted good.

It tasted great.

And then the joy makes way for dread.

“I’m not cleared for a toilet, McHale!” He hadn’t even addressed her by title, he was so shocked, “I can’t eat non-regulation food, I’ll- I- My body is designed to eat manna! You know how there’s talks of removing the workers’ digestive system, since- And- Well-”

“You can use my toilet, Isidor”

He doesn’t calm down. In fact, he gets even redder.

Bites into the orange again. Munches quietly. Fights down the little sounds of joy at the bursts of grotesque sweet and sour on his tongue.

–

So. The next steps were obvious.

Denunciating McHale. Make a report with her taskmaster. It was easy. It would be done in mere minutes. Isidor could be rid of this nuisance, could be rid of her in seconds.

But that orange had tasted nice.

And those occasional “Just enjoy yourself” tasks. What bad could they in effect do? Other than make him feel guilty. He wasn’t feeling guilty all the time of course. And during those “fun” tasks he usually ended up feeling rather good. Nice. Well.

But oh. Oh. The Hive couldn’t be sustained like this. What if McHale wasn’t just doing this to him, but to their entire sector!

For the first time Isidor wished he could have comm clearance, could actually speak with his fellow units. Until now it had never turned up as something desirable to him.

“Why me?”, Isidor asks, sitting in her massage chair and not having enough mindspace to actually care about what he’s asking.

“Because I like you”, McHale says.

“I’m Isidor Tichy, Aryu of C-2-4 and most days I clean gunk out of motherboards. I’m not special enough to be considered for procreation, not pretty enough to be a toy someone would keep, not smart enough to climb ranks-”

McHale had been smiling, but now her eyes wander. Her nose wrinkles. “You’re the perfect drone, yes. But with you its self inflicted. With you, there’s effort”

“Yes. I strive to be the best worker I can be-”

“Yes. You strive. You struggle”

“Why thank you”

Defiant sarcasm. Taskmasters were legally obligated to put a drone into the freezing pod for that.

McHale just continues talking, “With you, there’s effort to be the perfect drone. No one else has to try, Isidor. All the other units don’t even think about it. They just are. The perfect drone, I mean”

Isidor’s eyes are half lidded. He’s melting into the chair. He’s never gotten a massage in his life. This. This could be worth it.

“I want to fit in”, he says. Truthfully.

“But you don’t”, McHale concludes. “Just like me”

–

That conversation is what sets him off. Back in his cell (which was perfectly cut to his body, barely room enough to take one step; really, only enough space to fall on top of the regeneration mat), back in his cell, Isidor replays the last conversation.

Then all of their conversations.

And comes to a decision.

He never sees McHale again. She vanishes, along with her spacious cell, her massage chair, her toilet, her oranges.

Isidor regrets it immensely. Isidor also justifies it with every thought.

And in the end he realizes he’s alone.

Maybe more alone than before, where he hadn’t even known of a possibility to not be.

#artificial idiocy #caro tag #isidor tichy #averon mchale #writing #oc #original #scifi #dystopia #queue #heheheheh have my little orange short story

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pigeonwhumps · 7 months

Text

The Will-Reading

A Death in the Family

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance

Against his better judgement, Tristam attends the reading of his late father's will.

3.3k

CWs: vampire whumper, human whumpee, implied vampire whump, implied lady whump, vampire whump, transphobia (misgendering, deadnaming), use of 'it' for dehumanising, brand, blood drinking, forced to hurt, mind-control, mentions of pet whump, mentioned threats of violence

Tristam parks his gleaming black Bentley at the end of the driveway of his father's estate and releases a long, slow breath. He hasn't spoken to any of his family in over a hundred years, for good reason. He doesn't even know why he accepted the invitation today.

Social convention dictated they invite him. He didn't have to accept. He never has before.

A servant who he's never met before makes a beeline for his car, and he exits hastily. No sense in making her do even more work.

She curtseys quickly. "Welcome, sir."

"Hello, Miss...?"

"Eldrida, sir."

"Hello Eldrida. I'm here for the will reading of Barnabas Sharpe."

"Of course. Right this way, sir."

"Thank you."

Tristam follows the young vampire to the main entrance of the manor house. She hesitates there for a second and touches the doorframe quickly, so briefly he wonders if he's imagined it, as he allows the butler to take his coat. Then he looks around.

The place is dark, windows walled up, ornate carvings in the stone and polished wooden staircase. The furniture is similar, dark woods highly polished and intricately decorated, lit by dim chandeliers that emit more than enough light for vampiric eyes to see by. Eldrida's bright blue braids contrast strongly with the rest of the hall, and Tristam wonders why his father hired her. She's definitely not his usual idea of a perfect servant, with one eye, scars and blue hair.

Her appearance suits her though. It's just this place that doesn't.

So much extravagance in this manor for one or two people. Despite growing up here, he can't imagine living somewhere similar again. It makes his blood boil and his skin itch. He'd rather be anywhere but here.

He wishes he'd kept his coat.

Eldrida leads him into the drawing room. He's the last to arrive, it appears, and his least favourite aunt rises to greet him, taking his hand in her red-clawed talons before he can escape to his seat.

"Iseult! My darling niece! What a pleasure it is to see you again. It has been too long."

Tristam sees Eldrida do a double-take and sighs inwardly. Outing him to the whole room, once again. "My name is Tristam, my lady. And there are reasons we do not often speak, as you very well know."

Lady Mary Sharpe makes a face but says nothing, too well-bred to start an argument in front of what must be the solicitor. He can tell she wants to, though. She always does, and she always has, every time she's seen him since he told his family at a reunion that he was a man named Tristam. He'd fled when they wouldn't accept it, and it has never gone any better since.

Eldrida melts into the shadows in the corner of the room once he's seated comfortably, and the solicitor clears his throat.

"Now everyone is present, may we, perhaps, begin?"

Tristam murmurs an apology. He's not really late, he knows, but it's expected of him.

"That's quite alright, Lord Tristam. I'm sure we all understand your grief."

"Er. Yes. Quite."

He didn't think he was grieving.

"So. Onto the reading of the will. My name is George Brown, of Messrs Brown, Brown and White, Solicitors, and I've been invited here as the appointed Executor of Lord Barnabas Sharpe's will. I'll start by reading the will and its legacies in full, followed by unbequeathed property and any objections." He coughs delicately. "The Last Will and Testament of Lord Barnabas Sharpe, Esq."

Tristam lets his mind drift for a while as George Brown reads the will. He doesn't really care what anyone else gets, and he honestly couldn't care less about inheriting any of his father's estate, but he keeps an ear out for nasty surprises. He almost jolts from his seat when he hears his name.

"And finally, to my daughter, Tristam, née Iseult, Sharpe, I leave a single gold sovereign and The Essential Guide to Contemporary Vampire Lady Etiquette."

Generous. But exactly what Tristam was expecting. He nods his acceptance, and Mr Brown continues, reading the usual administrative sections until he reaches the final sentence.

"The standard provisions and all of the special provisions of the Society of Trust and Estate Practitioners shall apply." Mr Brown folds the piece of paper crisply. "That concludes the reading of the will itself. However, before we move onto hearing any conflicts, we have a few pieces of chattel that need deciding on. The first, and most important given its... delicate... nature, is Lord Barnabas' former thrall."

Tristam's heart sinks to his stomach as his aunt rings a bell and a few seconds later, a human enters the room.

He should've known. It's his father, of course he had a thrall. But... he didn't know. Didn't think about it.

The human smells... rotten, almost. Unhealthy, certainly, and it doesn't take more than a glance to notice the swaying, and the glistening skin. Barnabas died days ago, they're probably starving. But it's not just what Tristam can see that's probably bothering the human. At the very least, their arm is being held at an awkward angle, their wrist bent oddly.

What else is hiding under the crisp, black, frilly shirt? It's the traditional attire of a bloodbag without an owner, the long sleeves and high collar to stop access by anyone until they're claimed, the black making a mockery of human grief.

Not everyone goes for the black. It stands to reason that the Sharpe family would.

His trousers are of an older style too, although it's less obvious with them, long and crisp and black. No shoes, bloodbags have no need of them.

The poor thing must be freezing. He can't imagine how much worse it must be normally, with the low-necked silks and the short sleeves, in a draughty manor that's rarely heated.

At least... this level of persuasion, at least they won't notice that. Their eyes, one light blue and one brown, are glazed over, dulled by successive enthrallments. So that's a small comfort.

They're pretty, and he hates that he can see why his father chose them. Pale patches dot their dark brown skin, with a little stubble on their chin. Their hair is in locs, ends settling on the tops of their shoulders, a few locs dangling over their forehead instead. They have a scar on their lip, and another on their cheek, and Tristan doesn't want to think about where they might be from.

And then he spots the brand. There, on the back of their right hand, is a burn in the shape of the family crest.

He feels sick. Sure, the human is Sharpe family property, but that's why he hates the family so much. There's plenty of voluntary donors around, even a few (ethically questionable) paid bloodbag agencies. Hell, the family already has plenty of lower class vampire servants, for other jobs. No need for... this.

"So, ladies and gentlemen, now that you've all had time to peruse the chattel, you need to come to an agreement as to what to do with it."

The room's silent. There's a little awkward shuffling, and a cough, but no speaking. The thrall stays perfectly still, perfectly silent, hands behind their back, in their place standing beside Mr Brown.

Eventually, to break the silence if nothing else, Tristam says, "What happens to them if they're left unclaimed?"

"It will be taken to auction, and if unsold there, passed onto a blood farm to be dealt with finally."

The human certainly won't last long at a blood farm, not in the state they're in. And an auction... Tristam worked one once. He has no desire to go near one again. The type of people who turn up on the off-chance of snatching up a rich vampire's belongings cheap don't bear thinking about. And the human is still young, and pretty, and easy to hurt.

But no-one here will be any better.

"I will take them, then." All eyes snap to him, a range of disbelief and hatred in them. "I am a member of the family. And I do not currently have a thrall. In fact, I am in the market for one at the moment. Why could I not take this one? None of you seem to be looking to take them."

"Unexpected," declares Mary, after a stunned pause. "But I certainly don't want to be taking care of that thing. I have my own two, in far better condition."

Mr Tobias Sharpe, Tristam's cousin, formally his father's next of kin as the nearest male relative in his family's eyes, hums. "I agree. I see no issue with you having the boy, on the condition that you complete the ritual claiming ceremony, in front of us all here today. If you can successfully complete that, your father's thrall is all yours."

Tristam swallows and nods. He'd forgotten this part of claiming. It's a tradition, but done so rarely nowadays.

By civilised vampires, at any rate.

"Very well."

He rises and nods to Eldrida, who steps forward to move Tristam's chair back and sideways. He sits down again gracefully, and looks reluctantly at the young human.

"Come."

His voice is stronger this time, cooler, echoes of his centuries-long life reverberating around the room, and he hates it. He hates how much it makes him sound like his father.

The human's eyes redden briefly as the command sinks in, and they walk forward without hesitation.

"Kneel."

The human kneels fluidly, gracefully, between Tristam's legs. He shuffles uncomfortably.

"Present."

The human holds out their arm, resting it on Tristam's leg. Tristam takes it tenderly in both hands and rolls up their sleeve gently, careful not to add to the red-dark bruises already present.

He lifts their forearm to his lips and, in a flash of white, buries his fangs into their skin. The human gasps at the impact, but Tristam's control doesn't break.

His fangs are not as needle-sharp as they once were, he's gotten unused to drinking from live humans, but oh, the blood tastes good. Even as sickly as they are, he can see why his father chose them. Their warm, living, fresh blood pumping into him. It's so good.

The human has been under thrall for so long that their thoughts, even their embedded, unconscious ones, are barely reachable. Usually it's unstoppable, but with this one he can barely grasp the ghost of an identity. There's a wisp, barely there, of a name. He concentrates, pulling it towards him.

Sunday. Sunday... Afolayan.

He pulls away as his thrall– the human– Sunday Afolayan– slumps against him, unconscious, and licks a stripe down their forearm to seal the wound, displaying his own dripping fangs to his family as proof. His arm is around the human's waist, stopping him from falling completely.

His nephew nods approvingly, and his aunt hands him a cloth napkin, which he wipes his fangs on delicately.

"Does anyone have any objections to me leaving with my thrall? I would like to ensure he does not die. I have no conflicts with any of your bequests."

"You may leave. Eldrida, fetch Tristam's bequests."

She curtseys. "Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you. I will see you again. Thank you for your service, Mr Brown."

"Good day, Lord Tristam."

Tristam scoops the human up in a bridal carry and leaves the room hurriedly. They really aren't well.

"Eldrida," he calls after her, "Fetch me some human food and water, will you, please? I am going to wait in my car."

She curtseys again and hurries off. Tristam looks down at his thrall as he leaves the manor. He needs to fetch his coat, but he doesn't want to leave the human.

The thing about drinking blood from an enthralled human, is that it's very easy to become entranced with said human. Very easy to think of them as a thrall, yours, property. Your property. You have to be very careful.

And Tristam hasn't been careful at all. It's been so long, he's forgotten how.

He'll have to be so, so careful now.

At least it wasn't the neck.

He lays the human– Sunday down carefully in the backseat of his car, laying a delicate hand on their forehead. They're not feverish, he doesn't think, although humans always run hot.

He's not sure what he's going to do when he gets home. He tries to run through it in his head. First aid kit, clothes, food, wash, somewhere to sleep. Call Crossways House, see if they have any tips. He knows he wants to get Sunday's mind back, but he has no clue where to start.

He should call Aileen anyway. Her and Evelyn have about twenty degrees between them, if anyone knows they might. It means he'll have to tell them about his coming here today, though.

He leans his head against the outside of his car and lets out a groan. Why him? He can barely take care of himself, let alone a whole other person.

"Um. Lord Tristam, sir?"

He looks up and pulls himself together. As much as possible, anyway. "Yes, Eldrida? Do you have what I asked for?"

"Yes, sir." She's carrying an open cardboard box, which she places in the passenger seat at his gesture. "I brought you the thrall's clothing too, sir, I thought you might want it."

"Thank you." Tristam looks through the box. Inside is a bottle of water, a pouch of disgusting-looking nutrient-rich human thrall food, his bequest and coat, and several silk outfits in a selection of white and black. The tops are low-cut and sleeveless, the trousers cut off just below the knees. There's nothing else, nothing to keep Sunday warm.

"Is this all they wore? All they had? How are they alive?"

"The late Lord Sharpe kept him in a warm food storage room most of the time, sir."

Tristam nods, thinking. "And they have nothing else? You said him, what do you know about the human? When I was drinking from him, his name came out as Sunday Afolayan, but that's all I got."

"Nothing else, sir. The blanket has already been burned and your father would not waste frivolities on a thrall. The human insisted on being addressed using him when he was lucid, but your father threatened to cut his tongue out if he uttered his name, sir, so this is the first time I've heard it. If you'll beg my forgiveness for saying so, sir, he was rather cruel."

"No, it's okay. You're right. My father has always been cruel. To you, too, I suspect." She doesn't respond to that, which is an answer in itself, really. He eyes the small rucksack on her back. "Would you like a lift out of here, Eldrida?"

Her eyes light up and she smiles shyly. "Yes please, sir. I've given my notice, and I don't think they'll give me a reference."

"All right. Let's get some water into Sunday and then we can leave. The food can wait until we are back at my flat. Can he drink without persuasion?"

"It's been a long time, sir."

"Okay. Well, he is still unconscious... we'll sit him up. Hold his head steady."

Eldrida helps get the human upright, and Tristam cracks the lid on the bottle, tipping it carefully into his mouth. He rubs Sunday's throat as he does so, helping him swallow.

He remembers that from Aileen's training, at least.

It's intimate. Too intimate. He hopes the human wakes soon.

"Right. He should be okay for now. Get in the passenger seat."

"The box, sir?"

"Ah. Right. That can go in the seat next to the human. I apologise for the mess."

"That's okay, sir." She picks up the box and transfers it carefully, before sitting down clumsily in the seat beside him. "Thank you, sir. You're very kind."

"It's no problem. Long walk out of here. So, where can I drop you?"

Eldrida's silent for a while, long enough for it to get awkward. Tristam drums his fingers on the steering wheel, wishing he could just put on some music.

"Sorry, sir. Um, is the local HVA centre still open? I haven't left the estate for six years."

"Six– my father takes live-in servants now? He paid you, right?"

"Yes, sir. And it's not common. He just said he had to keep an eye on me because I used to be a... a hunter. And I was newly turned, it's not like I remembered anything or had anywhere else to go, sir."

"You only hunted on the human side of the border, right?" She might not have remembered straight away but memories shouldn't take six years to return.

She bobs her head. "Yes, sir."

Tristam winces, and hopes he won't regret what he's about to offer. "Yes, okay, that will be enough of the sirs. The HVA centre is still open, yes. If you're amenable, though, I have a spare room which you can stay in for free. I won't force it on you."

"I'd like that. If it's really okay with you. I used to be in charge of looking after the human a lot, I can help you with him."

"Sunday."

"Sunday. Sunday Afolayan. Sorry."

"It's okay. I would be very grateful for your assistance. But you must have a dream of your own?"

Eldrida's eyes light up. "I'd like to open a café. It would be decorated with artwork of weird bats and there would be soup of the night, which would change every night and have names that are just a little bit saucy to annoy the more straight-laced vampires. But it would basically be blood soup every time, I suppose. There must be other recipes. Vampires go out to eat, right? In a way that isn't eating humans?"

Tristam smiles at her excited chatter. She's almost bouncing now. "Remind me to introduce you to Lucan sometime."

"Lucan?"

"Faerie. Works at Crossways. Best cook I know. He's working on a recipe book for vampires, with a variety of blood-based recipes. And there's always the border cross-species communities." Eldrida grins. "Nearly there now. I must apologise in advance for the state of the flat, I am not used to having anyone live with me."

His mental health is also not what he'd like it to be, but he's not about to tell a stranger that. 300 years he's had that box bed half-built in the corner of the living room. 300 damned years.

"It's okay, Lord Sharpe. I spent ten years serving your family, I can handle a bit of mess. No offence."

He has no doubt she believes it. And it may be true. But she hasn't seen his home yet.

"Eldrida... look, it's just Tristam, okay? Just call me Tristam." She nods. "It's not as big as the family mansion. Only two bedrooms. But there's a pretty nice balcony. I'll show you where the rooms are, and then... do you know anything about human medicine?"

"A little first aid. But–" she glances back at Sunday, and Tristam does too, pretending he hasn't continually been doing so throughout their journey. "But not enough for Mr Afolayan, probably."

Tristam nods. "Then I will need to call some people for help. And then... Eldrida, are you all right?"

She turns away, pretending not to wipe her shining eyes. "Perfectly alright, sir– Tristam. Tristam. Thank you."

"No problem. Here we are."

He parks and reaches over Eldrida to grab his house keys off the dashboard.

Eldrida flinches.

Oh boy.

Tristam chooses to ignore it for now. He already knew his father was cruel, and although this might not be caused by him he... doesn't think she'll want to talk about it anyway.

"Come on. Let's get Sunday inside and show you around."

#whump #whump writing #a death in the family #tristam sharpe #sunday Afolayan #eldrida kenyatta #mary sharpe #tobias sharpe #non human whumpee #vampire whump #vampire whumper #vampire whumpee #vampire caretaker #human whumpee #multiple whumpees #lady whump #conditioned whumpee #reluctant caretaker

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skynapple · 2 months

Text

Budding Romance | Ch. 16

Love and Deepspace | Jeremiah x MC / slow-burn / friends-to-lovers | Themes: angst, guilt, fluff

warnings: none

Multi-chapter | A03 link

Beginning | <- Prev | Next ->

"Stalker" Tara wants to do some research.

Tara wasn't one for idleness. She enjoyed constant company, chatter, and entertainment. Finding out her new best friend had a massive crush was a thrill that topped all the rest lately. Just what type of person was he? She determined in her mind to find out and learn more about him, just for safety sake. Although, her fellow huntress had conveniently refused to tell her the name of the flower shop. It took some investigation, but eventually she had narrowed it down to two options. The amount of male-owned floral shops were slim to none within an hour circumference.

Time to take a trip!

Early on a late-summer morning, she set out to hunt the man down. Her first stop was an ornate shop on the west side of Linkon, ‘the fancy district’ as she referred to it. Expensive florals swathed in brilliant silks and ornaments decorated the large place, known most greatly for its extravagant wedding arrangements. In short time, she had her answer. This was the wrong place -leaving one last location on her list, which was on the other side of town. The much smaller shop, “Philo,” had no website, no social media presence. It existed only as a blip in an old map and word-of-mouth.

Upon entering, she admired the florals and quaint aesthetic. To her shock, the man who appeared to greet her not the man her friend had described, but an all-too-familiar blonde headed, blue-eyed hunter, wearing a dark apron over casual clothes.

“Oh! It's you!” She exclaimed, her cheery voice filling the whole shop.

For just a moment Tara wondered if somehow her thoughts were misplaced, now thinking, Does she actually have a crush on Xavier? Then she recalled the image she had been shown at their lunchtime exchange and shook off the thoughts.

"Xavier, is this your side job? Who knew!"

“Oh... no.” The man look a little awkwardly away, but smiled. It was different to see him not so 'standoffish' as people in the office liked to refer to him as. Though their fellow hunters regarded him highly, everyone knew how anti-social he was. “I'm just filling in for a friend today.” He finished.

“Really!! Oh, so is your friend the owner of this place? That’s cool! Where’s he at?”

He set the mister on a shelf and yawned. "He was tired today.”

She giggled. "Xavier, you're one to talk! You know your partner always tells me you pretty much sleep anywhere and everywhere, anytime you get!"

Before Xavier could respond to that, she gabbed on.

"So, are you getting paid? Must be nice! Oh my gosh, wait, she was right your eyelashes are totally blonde!"

"... What?"

Xavier shifted uncomfortably, hand reaching up to the back of his neck awkwardly.

She couldn't read him really, just that he was awkward as usual. Once again, before he could say anything else, she interrupted any possibility of him getting a word in.

“Wait, can you help me then? I was going to get something here for our teammate, you-know-who. I was thinking something cute for her desk! Ah, your shared desk? Her side? I was thinking something small and pretty. Or maybe something large and elegant! Like a huge lily! Wait, should I wait for the owner to return? You wouldn't know would you? Do you know when he'll be back?"

Xavier couldn't take it. “Let me check the back and see if he's around…” He said, leaving in such haste he nearly knocked a large pot over.

While she waited, she shopped around, finally settling on what to get her colleague as an excuse to be in the shop. She has no idea what her friends’ crush could be up to. As her thoughts wondered, she heard a noise from the door leading to the back that startled her. Xavier emerged from behind the door, carrying the half limp form of another man. The sight made her gasp softly. Honey brown curls. That had to be him - and he was passed out.

"Oh no! Is that your friend? Is he ok? Is he drunk??"

"Can you get the door?"

Placement-wise, he was her superior and sort of a legend, she didn't bother to question him when given a command.

"Do you need help? Are you sure he doesn't need first aid?" She said. It secretly occurred to her to text her friend, but only after making sure the man was ok.

"Actually..." Xavier started, glancing behind him and adjusting the man's arm over his, then flinging his whole limp body over his shoulder. "Can you lock up? I need to take him home. I think his keys are..." He fished around the mans pocket with a free hand with some effort and handed it to her.

"O-Of course! But...if these are his keys, then how will you-?"

"His spare. Sorry, I'll see you."

Tara felt the wind rush through her short strands and Xavier was gone with a flash of light and a gust of wind. Having received no other explanation, she was left alone, dumbfounded, with only instructions. She figured out how to switch the lighted "open" sign off, and fumbled through the sets of keys until finding the one that worked. It felt strange to hold a physical key, she wasn't sure if she'd actually ever used one before. It felt a little fun and retro.

When she was sure the door was secure, she picked up her mobile device and contacted her friend.

---

"Whathappened?" Her fellow huntress and best friend asked, sliding into the booth at the cafe they agreed to meet at. As Tara relayed the events of the morning, her hands rose to her mouth, a pensive expression as she sat incredulously.

There were many things she couldn't wrap her head around, from the fact that Tara went through the trouble of finding out where her crush worked, and then the fact that Xavier was there helping, and finally that Jeremiah was not in good condition.

"I don't know! At first Xavier said that the owner was out, and then that he was in the back, and then he didn't really say anything! He did not look good let me tell you. I'm kind of worried myself.”

It hadn't exactly been a good first impression, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She thought if Xavier was handling it, then it should be fine. Although, it was her friend’s crush, and if she had an opportunity to find out more about him, even if it was information that might encourage her friend not to pursue him, then she figured it was better to let things happen that way. After all, her cards that morning had told her so.

Tara placed a rather old-fashioned-looking set of keys in front of them on the table they were seated at. Gingerly, her friend picked it up and ran a thumb over the leather strap holding the keys together. It had his name engraved on it.

"I'll make sure I get it to him. Thank you, Tara."

#jeremiah x mc #lnds jeremiah #love and deepspace jeremiah #jeremiah love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #lnds fic #l&ds #l&ds jeremiah #l&ds mc #love and deepspace #lnds mc #love and deepspace mc #lnds tara #love and deepspace tara #tara love and deepspace #lnd tara #l&ds tara #madi writes #budding romance

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boxenstopp · 9 months

Text

green carnations - 1.7k words

pairing: florist!charles + rich boy!max

summary:

Max seeks out the flower shop of a highly esteemed, and eccentric, florist, in order to mend his relationship with his girlfriend.

The florist, Charles, makes him question his intentions.

Charles and Max are big dumb idiots, and Max really wants to know what green carnations imply.

LINK HERE or read more

A/N: prompted by @sennaverstappen and green carnations have ties to gay men.

It’s been a long time since he’s gone on a drive by himself. It’s a surprise, after all. Or at least that’s what he’d told them in order to get off his back.

Every window is shiny, reflecting the summer sun into his eyes. Ugh, he hates summer sometimes. Heat and all. Both the good and the bad seem to be able to bite him in the ass regularly.

Max steps out of the car, parked a couple blocks away for safety’s sake, and makes the short walk to the florist. He passes a couple shops, blatant tourist traps meant to lure those who clearly don’t have taste, and stops in front of a large, stained glass and wood door. The front is decorated with large carved flowers and Max thinks it’s a bit overdone.

He steps inside anyway (he drove all the way there for a reason) and the bells jingle lightly, alerting the owner to his presence. The inside is spacious but just as embellished as the outside; flowering vines hang from an ornate chandelier, rows of roses in multitudes of colors and scents decorate the hall, and a skylight gleams above a bed of tulips.

Something else catches his eye, though. A figure, dressed in a shirt patterned in rose and ivory, walks towards him with a smile. He has dimples set in his face, and green eyes that speckle under the dappled light. There are 2 rings on his left ring finger, and a golden snake curled around his right index. This unknown man, the owner, most likely, waves at him, and Max waves back. There’s no reason to. They’re only 5 meters apart.

“Bonjour monsieur, flowers?” He asks, gesturing everywhere, really.

“Did you get the call and brief from my team? I’m Max Verstappen.” Max answers. Of course he wants flowers, what else would he go to a florist for?

“Ah, yes.” He confirms. “You are Mr. Verstappen?”

“Yes.” Max replies, stepping further into the store, admiring the numerous flowering buds. One surprises him. “Flowers can be green?” He asks, pointing towards the tea-colored blossoms in the bed labeled ‘carnations’.

“I do not think you want those, monsieur. I have a dozen pairings already laid out for you, if you would like to come into the back.” He turns away, gesturing for Max to follow him.

“Why would I not want them?” Max demands from behind him.

“Ah, monsieur, you have a girlfriend, yes?”

“Uh, not right now. That’s what the flowers are for. Did you read the brief?” Max wonders what he’s missing out on. If only the man didn’t have his back turned.

“Yes, of course I read your brief. Far too short, by the way. It was very hard to figure something out. But that is not the point. You want a girlfriend.” The man states as if it’s a fact. Maybe it is to everyone else.

Max just hums and enters the back room. The lights are more focused and bright in the room, with a setup that looks part craftsman and part photographer.

“Here I have the pairings.” The florist says, placing down the bouquets of carefully arranged flowers. “You can also get a vase, there are some on the shelf for you to pick.”

Max looks over them for a couple seconds. What did she say was her favorite color? He can’t exactly remember. Women always love roses, though, so maybe he should pick the one with those. There’s a bouquet that’s yellow and orange with bits of blue that smells like some sort of soap. It looks artsy, like her hair, which is blonde and ginger, so it fits, he supposes. He points to it.

The man stares at him blankly.

Max points to it again.

The man raises his eyebrow at him. “What do you want me to do?”

“Pack it up! I have other things to do.”

“You cannot have chosen already.”

“What, do your customers normally take all day to choose? Are you paid by the hour?”

“Tell me why you chose it.” The florist crosses his arms and ignores Max.

“Why do you need to know? Can’t you just bill me? I have a dinner date.”

“Why are you getting flowers?” God, could this man just let him leave? He didn’t need to flex his muscles.

“Are you sure you read the brief? You don’t sound like you did.”

“Mr. Verstapppen. I read your brief. Now will you please tell me what you see in those flowers.”

“What I see in them?” Max squints at him judgingly, and then looks back at the flowers. “A good relationship, hopefully.”

“A good relationship, he says.” He scoffs, “You should not be getting flowers just to get flowers, monsieur.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Then you aren’t thinking correctly. You are getting these flowers to get back with your girlfriend, yes?”

“Yes…” Max looks at him questioningly.

“Why flowers?”

“Because it’s a relationship… that’s how it works.”

“Max. Can I call you Max?” He asks, looking over at Max. Max nods at him. “If you get flowers, you should be thinking about the life those flowers will live. The emotions they will inspire. When your girlfriend looks at the flowers, she should think of your shared love.” By the end he looks quite red in the face, as if just thinking about the usage of flowers was getting him worked up.

“But-” Max tried to interrupt.

“No.” He counters, looking down at the bouquet Max chose. He bites his lip adorably and fiddles with his rings. “If you do not understand what you are saying with your flowers, then she will not too.”

He reaches out and messes up the flowers he’d carefully arranged, plunking ones out of almost every arrangement. “Pinks and reds for love, yes?” He asks, holding up a red rose. “White for purity and maybe a bit of blue or purple. For some remorse. It should not be overwhelming. It should not be boring. It should be you.” He looks furious at the idea that a flower bouquet could be anything but ‘you’, whatever that means.

“Mister, I think you do not understand.” Max sighs, bringing his hand up to brush through his hair.

“Charles Leclerc.” Charles’ eyes immediately catch the movement, “Then make me understand. You are not telling me with your flowers. When you think of your love, what comes to mind?”

“Absolutely nothing. Most people don’t have wet dreams about flowers like you seem to.”

“No no, that cannot be right.”

“Fine. The green carnations in the front there.”

“No.” Charles is frustrated, gesturing to himself and to Max in a way that doesn’t explain much of anything.

“No? What do you hate about green carnations so much? Why aren’t they in any of your bouquets?” Max’s voice is high and teasing.

“Max. You did not study floriography and you clearly don’t know your history either.” Charles’ voice isn’t. It’s been growing lower and lower ever since he brought up green carnations again.

“I guarantee you that I have a better education than you.”

“And did you major in the same things I did?” Charles is deadpan.

“Just- Shut the fuck up. I do not want to be late. Pack up this bouquet, and you know what? Add some of the green carnations.” Max turns to leave.

“Have you looked at the bouquet? I spent at least an hour on it, I will not ruin it with green carnations.” Charles calls from behind him.

“What, do you hate the carnations because they’re ugly?” Max replies back.

“Max! That is not what I said.” Charles stares after him. “Please, a symbol of your love should not be manufactured by someone else.” Charles says, begging slightly.

“Right. Our love.” Max didn’t really want to address it.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know why you think we love each other.” Max turns back to face him. “Did you even look me up? Her father’s the owner of the largest hotel branch in the world. I’m not throwing that away.”

“I never look up customers, it’s quite rude that you think I did.” Charles says, smirking as if he’s got the upper hand.

“Right, you’re a fucking saint. Let me get this straight, okay? I do not love her. She most likely does not love me. It’s that simple. Just give me the flowers, yeah? I’m not going to be late to this.”

“You- Don’t disgrace the language of flowers for this idiotic sake. She has all the reason to love you, but you are not showcasing that by getting one dimensional flowers.” Charles says in a weird tone, gazing right into Max’s eyes. It makes Max a bit uncomfortable.

Max looks away, “Don’t suggest some weird ‘finding your inner tone’ course. I don’t need a thousand color palettes contrasted with my face.”

Charles looks at him oddly. “No, no. Has no one ever seen you?”

“What, are you seeing my soul or something? Is that something you majored in too?”

“I don’t see your soul. I see the reflections of your soul. You see, your eyes are pearl-like, I think they would look good with my light blue irises, for hope. And you have a very wide, joyous smile. I think I would add these small, white chrysanthemums. Akin to the stars, yes? They will mean loyalty. I am thinking of a sky, a beautiful blanket, encapsulating how you radiate and how you protect.”

“Right.” Max’s eyes are boring right into Charles, who’s looking at him proudly like he’s just exhibited some sort of great power. It makes Max a bit flustered.

“You are. Ah. You are blushing.” Charles is back to smirking, this time accompanied with his dimples. They don’t help the crisis Max is in.

“Shut up.” Charles can’t possibly have come up with those ideas from 20 minutes of arguing.

“Maybe I will add some green carnations, then.” Charles says, and walks right past Max and into the front room, picking up his clippers.

“You haven’t told me what they mean yet.”

“Can’t you figure it out?” Charles asks him, winking horribly. It’s cute either way.

“Wha-” Squinting at the flowers. He misses when Charles comes back up to him.

Charles kneels (weird) and holds out his lush, freshly picked green carnation, “Go out with me?”

“I literally have a dinner date in less than an hour, Charles.”

“Please?” Charles looks up at him pleadingly.

“Sure.”

#f1 #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #lestappen #charles leclerc #florist!charles #formula 1

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sunnydayjackass · 2 years

Text

Priorities

Ian loved going out, getting dressed up, talking to people, networking, having some drinks with you, and going home to fall in a heap together on your bed. Fixing the collar of his shirt, running his hand through his hair to make sure it was coiffed just so, Ian turned his head from side to side- giving himself one last look over in the mirror before coming out of the bathroom. He'd been going out more often as of late, sometimes without you-- which you swore to him up and down that you were okay with. Ian was starting a new chapter of his life- being accepted into a highly acclaimed school of the arts, being signed to a company that wanted to use him, getting a manager to help him navigate these new waters.

It had been a lot to say the least, a whirlwind of events that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. But there you were, as you always were. To steady him, to ground him, to comfort him through it all. The gentle way you'd coo to him with words of comfort, how your fingers would card through his hair until he felt himself dozing off, the feel and smell of you pressed against him in a tight hug. Where would Ian have been without you? Your encouragement and support had helped propel him to embrace these dreams and aspirations that were coming true before his eyes, success withing his grasp.

"(Name)...? Are you almost ready?" Ian calls down the hallway as he tugs his blazer on, it's a polished casual look he's going for. He'd tried a few looks before settling on what he had. A boy next door sort of charm with a little edge in his long hair and sometimes introverted demeanor. Really, he was simply shy sometimes but people liked a person better when it was reframed as "mysterious". Or so Ian had been told.

You're coming down the hallway not long after, dressed in an outfit you'd chosen for a party the pair of you attended a few weeks ago. You gave him your usual grin, "Yeah, sorry. Couldn't find my shoes." Ian purses his lips, he likes your clothes, how your hair is styled, the accessories you've chosen, really--he does but. "Oh, you wore that outfit before, didn't you?" Ian knows the answer, he knows you do too, and he knows his manager certainly would too. You give a little shrug, not picking up what he's putting down and instead make sure you have your phone wallet and keys.

"I like this outfit." You say simply, "You picked it for me." Either you don't care or don't know but either way, you're ready to step out the door and Ian doesn't want to be late. Maybe it'll be fine. Maybe nobody would notice. The pair of you get an uber into the city to an upscale building, bustling with well dressed people entering and valets scurrying. Ian helps you out of the car, lacing his fingers with yours. The more he looks at you, a little giddy to mingle and have a good night, the more it softens his anxiety as he gives your hand a fond squeeze before gently butting his head against yours. A soft bashful smile breaks his lips as he meets your gaze. "I'm really glad you're here." He murmurs against your hair. You press a chaste kiss to his cheek as you walk in together.

The night presses on, draped in ambient lighting and ornate decor, a dj plays their music set to loud thumping bass while chatter is scattered about the sprawling venue, caterers mill about with polished trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne, a crowded bar is at the back with several well dressed bodies pressed upon it with cocktails in hand. For now you're seated beside Ian on a couch you're positive costs more than your apartment, his arm is around your shoulders and you're murmuring conversation and jokes back and forth. A few drinks do miracles to relax you both an an atmosphere you're still getting accustomed to. A few people stop by to chat with Ian and introduce themselves to you kindly, some carry a conversation with him for a while and you're happy to watch.

Ian, the once shy nerdy boy who hid his hentai under the bed was now a charming conversationalist, at ease amongst his peers and soon to be coworkers. You were proud of him, you were happy for him, and you couldn't help the smile and warmth that blooms upon you. As the pair excuse themselves from you, Ian catches your gaze and blushes a little. "Wh-what? Did I say something weird?" You knock your head against his shoulder.

"No. It's just..." you chuckle a little and pat his thigh. "I'm just really proud of you, Ian." Your words are as genuine as your smile and if it weren't for thr fact you were in a crowded party, he may have gotten misty eyed but his heart still thrums wildly in his chest at your words. Ian doesn't think you'll ever know just how much that sentence means to him. Or how much he loves you. Down to his bones, he's never felt more loved or accepted than in the time he's spent with you. You give his thigh a squeeze and push yourself up from the couch. "Where are you going?" He blurts, he doesn't mean to sound so needy but you can't just say stuff like that and leave him, not before he thanks you.

"Just to get a refill. I'll bring you back one too." You bend to collect his empty glass, little sneak you are- you steal a brief kiss that has Ian leaning toward you for more but he's left teasingly hanging as you weave through the crowd to the bar. God, you are just...incredible. Through and through. He loses sight of you as you reach the bar and relaxes against the couch cusions again before weight dips on his other side.

"I've told you before, it's in your best interest to come to these things alone." Oh, goddammit. The sharp clip of that voice belongs only to one person, his manager. His posture straightens, almost like that of a scolded child as he looks over to them. Dressed sharp, teetering on over dressed and exuding authority and refinement. "Every time you bring them, you don't mix and mingle enough." Their gaze pins Ian to his spot. There's a blend of disappointment in him and accusatory in their tone. Ian shifts a little in his seat, this feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach isn't entirely unfamiliar, it almost feels nostalgic though in the worst possible way.

"I've talked to lots of people tonight." Ian defends himself feebly. "Besides, I feel better when they're here." And it's not a lie, Ian can fend for himself alone at these events as he has before- the smiles plastered to his face, some bullshitting and ribbing, he acts his way through those nights. But when you're here, he can be more himself. He can enjoy himself, with you.

His manager clicks her tongue, fiddling with an expensive watch clasped around their wrist. "They're wearing the same outfit from three weeks ago. You don't repeat outfits at these functions." They cut, glancing disapprovingly at your back. "Ian, you know at some point you're going to have to make a choice about what you want. Do you want to be a star? Do you want to be a celebrity, have the fame?"

"Of co-" Ian is cut off by a glower and a raised finger.

"I'm not finished." They cut coldly, "Do you want all those things you've dreamed about and worked so hard for or do you want them?" The tone darkens in reference to you and Ian swallows thickly. "Do you want some cheap apartment and a ten year old car or do you want better for yourself?" Frankly, he doesn't know why he can't have you and his dreams. He doesn't think it's particularly greedy of him either. Ian doesn't want better just for himself, he wants to give better to you. To share it with you. To spoil you. To give you the life and love you so deserve.

The pause seems to soothe his manager, a little anyway, as they reach to adjust the lapels of his coat. "I won't expect you to answer me now, you've been drinking." Ian waits for them to ask what but they let it slide. "People love single people, the idea they can fantasize about having them. There's an allure about that, and about you being new and fresh to this scene." Their eyes lift to see you approaching with two drinks in hand. "Think about it, Ian."

You return with drinks in hand to see Ian's manager sitting beside him as your boyfriend tries to quickly mask his anxiety. "Oh, hi! I didn't know you'd be here tonight." You've always tried to be amicable with his manager but you've also always been aware that they didn't seem to particularly like you. It didn't bother you, you only saw them a handful of times af best.

They look at you and then drop down to the crystal glasses in your hand. "...I hope that's a vodka tonic. Ian has to watch his diet for auditions." They clip and you resist the urge to roll your eyes just giving a tight lipped smile. It's very clearly a brandy old fashioned that you hand him and your preferred drink in your hand.

"It totally is, how did you know?" His manager rolls his eyes and fluidly raises from the couch to leave before casting a look you can't quite decipher to Ian, before turning on their heel to blend into the crowd and check on their other clients. "...what an asshole." You huff, settling next to Ian and giving him a little smile. "You alright?" You know they have a penchant of running Ian a little hard and you hoped they hadn't spoiled his night. He inhales, stirring the garnishes of his drink for a moment before gingerly taking a sip and setting it on the table. Never a good sign. Sympathy creases your brow as you reach for Ian's hand that feels a little limp, his fingers stalling before closing around yours.

Ian exhales and forces a smile back, he doesn't like acting for you. He doesn't like lying to you. But he doesn't want to ruin your night either. "You know how they are. I'll be okay. They're just...looking out for me. In their own way." Ian nods, almost trying to convince himself as their words whisper in and out of his head. You seem satisfied, at least for now, and don't press the issue. Eventually the tension fades, the drinks keep flowing, and you & Ian become that saccharine sweet couple people envy.

It's the wee hours of morning as Ian leads you out of the building, an arm tightly around your waist as you comfortably press into his side, pressing the occasional kiss under his ear, thanking him for a fun night and how much you love him. Exhaustion is evident in your voice and Ian is looking forward to cuddling up in bed with you. As he flags down your car home, you both slide into the back seat while the driver navigates back to your apartment. Ian smiles softly as you doze off against him as he strokes your hair lovingly. You're perfect. You're perfect and there's nothing that will tear him from you. You guys will make this work, long distance, long hours, Ian will make this work. He refuses to sacrifice you for anything. All that's good in this world, you deserve. And Ian will do whatever he has to in order to provide that for you.

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #there's something wrong with sunny day jack #theres something wrong with sunny time jack #something's wrong with sunny day jack #tswwsdj #swwsdj #sdj ian #sdj ian duff #sdj ian x reader #sdj ian duff x reader #ian duff x reader

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loganscroftersstash · 1 year

Text

love from the spotlight; chapter two

green tea and green eyes.

—

cw for food!

—

After a bit more convincing and a bit of reassuring (not that Logan needed it), he drove himself to the address Remus gave him. Apparently it was one of the bandmate’s homes— which seemed unprofessional, but whatever. Not his prerogative. He parked on the street and walked up to the blue house, glancing up and down the door before he used his sleeve-covered hand to knock on the door.

In a few moments, a slightly taller man threw open the door and grinned. “Hey! You must be Logan! Come on in, mister!”

Logan glanced them up and down quickly, examining the current state of what he was working with. He seemed clean, if not excessively casual, and his nose was instantly attacked with a warm sweet scent. He didn’t hate it, but it was certainly strange in his mind. Who would want a sweet scented candle…?

Patton ushered him inside and shut the door, grinning. “I made some cookies if you want some! They’re for the whole group! Thought we could have a little tea party and get to know each other! What kind of tea do you like?”

That is where the sweet scent was coming from— did they say tea party? Logan wanted to cringe at the childish phrasing but he held his tongue; he was meant to be agreeable. He’d be spending a considerable amount time with these people… “…That is tolerable. Any kind of tea is fine.”

“Perfect! If you continue down the hall and take a left, there’s the living room. You’ll see the others in there the moment ya walk in! Can’t miss ‘em!” Patton grinned, and dashed back into the kitchen.

Logan was a little hesitant, but complied. A slow stroll down the hallway gave him time to eye the decor of the house. There were a lot of photos. Mostly of the alleged Patton growing up, but a few of his bandmates as well. Everything felt so cozy and warm, like a nice tight hug. Logan hated it.

After a few moments of dawdling he made his way into the living room, and was immediately met with four different pairs of eyes on him. One was immediately recognizable— he looked just like Remus but without the creepy mustache— but the other three not so much.

“Ah! You must be Mr. Esther!” His lookalike stood, grinning. “I’m Roman. I’m the lead singer and guitarist. Welcome to the team!” He extended a hand to shake.

“I don’t do handshakes. And thank you. I hope to be a suitable replacement for the time being.”

“Oh— alright,” Roman awkwardly put his hand down. Weird, but whatever. This whole guy was kinda weird. Scrawny, a pretty face, but he dressed like an English teacher. An argyle black sweater overtop a black button up and blue tie and dress pants? Roman thinks this guy missed the school bus.

“This is Virgil Foster! He’s our drummer—” He grinned and motioned towards the purple-haired fellow, who dressed like he was on his way to somewhere between a JoAnn’s Fabric and a Fall Out Boy Concert. Although Logan did appreciate the aesthetic he carried, even if the eye makeup was a bit… heavy for his preference.

Roman leaned down to whisper to Logan, “If you ask me, he’s pretty intense. You’ll get used to him,” He pulled away suddenly, grinning again. “And this is our manager, Janus Drake! He helps book all our gigs and stuff, I don’t really know.”

“…Right.” Logan murmurs. This seems highly unorganized. “Well, greetings Virgil, Janus. I’ve already met Patton so it seems I have become accustomed with everyone here. Wonderful to meet you all.”

“Yes! Yes, of course.” Roman grinned. “Here, have a seat,” He motions to the couch, and Logan sits, glancing around. Again, the room was very ornately decorated with framed photos and little trinkets, even some stuffed plushies. Was this Patton’s choice of decor…?

Logan looked up as Patton entered the room, holding a tray in his hand. There was a kettle and five mugs, as well as a plate of cookies. The supposed tea he was talking about seemed to be green tea. “Here, you guys! Dish ‘em out however you want!” Patton grinned, setting it down on the coffee table.

“Oooh!! Wonderful, Patton! Thank you!” Roman grins, taking a cookie. Virgil does the same, while Janus pours himself some tea. Logan just watches… is this normal? He feels very out of place.

“So! Logan— tell us about yourself! Whaddya do? What’s your life like?” Patton asked, starry eyed and smiling brightly, so much so Logan wants to look away from the horridly emotional display.

“Well…” He glanced down. “I am a college student majoring in education and minoring in astronomy. I play piano, guitar, bass, violin, viola, triangle, and—”

“Woah! You play a lot,” Patton grinned, glancing over at the other members. Virgil didn’t seem to be paying all that much attention, neither did Janus, but Roman seemed… He couldn’t decipher the emotion on his face.

“Yes, indeed I do.” Logan nodded. “I also study several languages such as Spanish, French, Italian, and Latin.”

“We gotta real egghead over here.” Virgil remarked, smirking. “Why would a nerdy guy like you wanna be in a band?”

“To put it simply, I don’t. I do not categorize myself as a performer. However, I ‘owe Remus one’ so here I am.” Logan nodded. “I am skilled enough to suffice until you are able to find a permanent replacement.”

“Wow, how straightforward of you, Esther.” Janus murmured, glancing up at Logan. “You seem so dedicated.”

Logan sighed. “I understand I do not seem enthusiastic, but I am treating this as a job. I guarantee you I will put forth my best effort and dedicate all the time and energy to this I deem necessary.”

“Well, that sounds good enough for me!” Patton grinned, taking another cookie from the plate. “What are your pronouns, kiddo?”

“I’m a grown adult, and they are he and him.” Logan adjusted his glasses with his left hand, glancing around. “How about you all?”

“I’m he/they! So is Ro! Virgil is he/it and Janus is they/he.” Patton grinned. “Ooh— here’s another question for you! What’s your favorite color?”

Dear god, he felt like he was being interviewed by a kindergartner. He couldn’t bring himself to be too upset at Patton, though. They just seemed so… wholesome.

“I quite enjoy blue.” Logan hummed.

Patton gasped. “Oh my goodness— no way!!! Blue is my favorite color too!!” He grinned, pointing to his pastel blue shirt. “We’re twinsies, Lo!!”

“…Right.” Logan murmured.

“Do you always wear a tie?” Roman asked suddenly, leaning forward with his hand on his knee.

These were a random variety of questions. Logan did not enjoy it much at all. “I do.”

“It makes you look like a nerd.” Roman snickered, earning a glare from Patton.

Logan sighed. Of course. Even in college he could not escape the dreaded high school insulting. “How insightful of you, Roman,” He muttered, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

Virgil was smirking a bit— glad someone was appreciative of his rebuttal— but Roman was far from impressed. He shrugged. “Just saying. Maybe not the particular vibe for the band… we’re advertising to youth! People who want to let go and get whisked away by the music! Not middle school liberians.”

Logan couldn’t help the slight glare on his face. Roman certainly seemed to enjoy stirring trouble… Before Logan had the chance to reply in any way, Janus was speaking.

“Ehem. Anyway, Logan; I’ve printed you out our rehearsal schedule. We usually rehearse every Friday at around five and get dinner after we are finished. Extra rehearsals may be in the cards, depending on how we feel as a group, or how fast you pick up.” They pulled a piece of paper from their folder, handing it to Logan.

“That is fine. I should not have any conflicts with this.” Logan nodded, glancing down. At least someone here was organized.

“Wonderful. Perfect, then. Do you have a bass?” Janus asked.

He had to think for a moment, but nodded. “Yes. I do.”

“Alright. Then, I believe that’s all the official business taken care of. Before you leave, see Roman for sheet music on your parts.” Janus hummed, throwing a glance towards the aforementioned Roman, who was whispering back and forth with Patton.

It was a certain purple-clad person’s turn for interrogating. “So. L. What gotcha into music anyway?” Virgil asked, sipping some tea.

“Well… I suppose I’ve enjoyed it all my life— who doesn’t enjoy music— but as a child, I had a lot of downtime on my hands. I took many advanced classes and was in high school by the time I was nine or ten. However, graduating and going to college wasn’t possible for my family, even with scholarships, so they decided to keep me in high school, for that reason and to hopefully better socialize me. I took a lot of music centric electives out of sheer boredom.”

“Holy shit. So you’re like, actually really smart.” Virgil chuckled.

“I certainly am.” Logan confirmed. He’d gotten used to the shock and surprise when people found out he was basically a living super computer.

“Can you sing at all?” It asked, shifting their jacket sleeve in between their fingers.

“…If you are asking if I can make musical sounds with the voice, especially words with a set tune, then yes. I can. If you are asking if I can do it well, I believe that yes, I can.”

Virgil blinked at the deadpan answer, but quickly shook it off. “Think you can give Princey a run for his money as vocalist?”

Roman wasn’t paying attention at all, but he had just tuned in as Virgil jabbed at him. “Excuse me! How very dare you, Virgil!”

He just laughed, leaning against the couch. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just funny to see you get all worked up.” He admitted, earning a slap to the knee from Roman.

“Trying to take away my spot…” He murmured with a sigh.

“Okay, okay. Anyways.” Virgil chuckled as he spoke. “Welcome in, Logan. If you can’t tell already, Roman is… a bit much.”

“I certainly can tell. He and his brother have that in common…” Logan sighed.

Virgil laughed. “Oooh, shit, I forgot you live with Remus. My condolences.”

Logan smiled a bit. “Thank you. Sometimes I wonder how I put up with him…”

“Yeah. How do you deal with… with him?”

“I am not sure. We typically keep our spaces separate and interact very little, aside from watching crime series together. Other than that, we maybe interact two or three times a day.” He murmured, glancing down.

“Lo! You gonna make me eat all these cookies myself?” Patton asked with a chuckle, a subtle plea to ask Logan to try one.

“Oh. No, of course not. I just simply don’t usually consume treats like this.” Logan said.

Janus glanced up, before back to the side.

“Oh! Okay. Well, no pressure.” Patton grinned, taking another cookie for himself. “Oooh— guys, let’s tell him about our gigs!!”

—

Their conversation had gone well! Logan said he had some business to attend to, so after about an hour or so of talking, he had gone. Patton led him to the door and made sure he got in his car all safe before closing the door, grinning.

“Okay, is it just me, or does Logan seem like a total… a total bitch?!” Roman huffed, exasperated as he crossed his arms.

“What?! Roman, I’m surprised at you!” Patton scolded. “I thought he was a nice young man!”

“Yeah, dude. What the hell is your problem?” Virgil asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as well.

Roman glared. “He’s so… he’s so stuck up. Like he’s better than us all! He’s so smart and ohhh look he knows so much!! He doesn’t even want to be in the band! He just… ugh, I don’t like him.”

“Well, suck it up, Roman. He’s all we got for at least two weeks, so, maybe try to stick it out?” Virgil offered. “Besides, he’s not that bad. He’s a little… quiet, maybe takes shit too literally, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“Yeah! Logan is a little different but I think he’s awesome!” Patton grinned. “I think he just feels uneasy with a new group, is all. Try to make him feel welcome, Ro…” He puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling. “Give him a shot. Okay?”

“Fine. Whatever..” He sighed. “I’m sure he’s… fine.”

They smile again, nodding. “I know you’re stressed. There’s been a lotta change really quick. But it’s okay, Ro! You’ve got us! We’re here for ya, okay, kiddo?”

“Yeah. What he said, I guess,” Virgil murmurs from his corner.

“…Right. Thank you.” Roman sighs. “You’re right. I have been stressed…”

Janus peeks in from the other room, eying the group as they console Roman. He already knows how this is going to unfold, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little excited for it.

—

woo! chapter two is DONE! honestly im speedwriting this bc i cant stop thinking abt it. my writing still feels rusty cuz its been so long, but i hope u guys enjoy anyway!!! reblog if u enjoy, if you wanna be added to a tag list for updates lmk! and feel free to pester me abt my au in my asks <3 ty!

#love from the spotlight!#sanders sides #logan sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #dark creativity sanders #creativity sanders #logic sanders #morality sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides au #sanders sides fic #logince #slowburn

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operafantomet · 2 years

Note

because i'm nosy, i would love to know your least favourite costume decisions - in particular, the most aggregious christine costumes (in your opinion)! x

Ahahaha.... Here goes, from start to finish...

I never really liked the newer Japanese Slavegirl bodices. I get LEGO vibes from them rather than sartorial vibes, due to the straight lines and the square trims.

Of Elissa skirts, I think most of them are absolutely magnificent, regardless of the dominant colours and the details. How can that much gold go wrong? But one skirt I never warmed up to... was when they remodeled an old red one in Denmark 2009. The skirt was covered in various red, green and golden trims, with old tabs paired with a new apron. The execution of it all was a bit confused. The red was blueish, orange-y and burgundy, the green was emerald, olive and grass green. The colours clashed, and the skirt ended up looking busy instead of majestic. I much prefer the second re-vamp from 2018, but here's the busy 2009 re-vamp:

Dressing gowns... I don't think I have massive issues with any of them, really. There's plainer ones and more ornate ones, there's super fitted and baggy ones, but overall they serve the purpose.

Same goes for the Maid / Serafimo costume, really. I don't always agree with the colour choices and/or details, but it doesn't mean the costumes look bad on stage. If FORCED... I would probably say that yellow is not my favourite for the skirt (as seen in this c. 2000 West End one) and that the combo of stripy blue skirt and stripy pink/black breeches is overkill (as seen in the original Stockholm production). Now imagine these three combined into one...!

Rooftop... There are two costumes I love to hate. But that doesn't really mean I hate them. I'm absolutely fascinated by them. They are SOOO too much. One is the purple/golden dress originally made for Paris but first used in the World Tour revival. The highly patterned shiny pabric, the large gold decorations and pleats... Whoa. The other... lace fabric with satin couching, spraypainted with blue and pink, and with blue, pink and gold decorations... So much structure in one dress. It was made for the Dutch production, stored in Germany for years, and then suddenly making a surprise comeback in Brazil. All in all... way too much, but it doesn't mean I'm not fascinated!

Star Princess costumes I can't warm up to often come from recent West End history. Not all of them, of course. But when the colours are neon, the bodices underdecorated, with half-assed ruffles, and the skirt giving a hint of plastic vibes... Nope. Not for me.

Wishing dress... I have yet to see photos of this costume in action, I have only seen it on display (with huge thanks to @phantomonabudget for actually documenting it in the only known photos of it). It was apparently worn by Teri Bibb in the US Tour (who later also donned the regular stripy version). The shape and trims and all are fine, but the combo of a busy blue/purple/green/red fabric and navy/turquoise trims makes it a challenging creature...

Aminta: this is just a personal preference, but I always favoured defined bell-shaped skirts. In the opposite end of the scale there's the Viennese ones and the Japanese ones. I don't like the combo of long, narrow skirts, wide skirt split in front, wide stomachers and unfocused decorations. I want more pink skirt, and sharper stomacher decorations.

As for wedding dresses, there are not really many replica versions I don't like - much in the vein of the dressing gowns. I have not included the Restaged Tour's costumes so far, as they are often intentionally changed and simplified. But... the Restaged Tour's original wedding dress, made new for Katie Hall, is the saddest version I know of. What even.

Overall... I don't like wrinkly bodices, I don't like too flat or straight silhouettes, and I don't really enjoy too busy colours and patterns. It also makes me sad when costume has a lot of potential, but the decorations lets it down. I also don't think the costumes above reflect well on Maria Bjørnson's quite detailed design. However, some of these are personal preferences more than bad costume making. You are in all possible ways free to disagree!

#christine wardrobe #phantom of the opera #christine daae #maria bjørnson

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kidsbirthdaydecoration · 2 months

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Embrace Simplicity: The Power of Minimalist Engagement Decoration

During the hectic wedding planning process, engagement decoration frequently takes center stage. When it comes to dazzling visitors and reflecting their love story, couples work hard to create an enchanting atmosphere. But the elegance of simplicity is frequently overlooked in the flurry of ornate settings and arrangements. It's time to turn attention to minimalist engagement decoration, where it really does seem like more with less.

Make your engagement event more special and amazing by selecting the best engagement stage decoration themes from Take Rent Pe — an online supplier providing decoration setups on rent. With more than 100+ décor set ideas, pick your ones and let the team do the whole event management for you.

Engagement stage decoration plays a pivotal role in setting the tone for the event. Instead of overwhelming the stage with an abundance of floral arrangements and ornate props, opt for a minimalist approach that accentuates the couple's presence. A sleek backdrop adorned with subtle accents can create a sophisticated backdrop for the exchange of vows. Incorporating elements like geometric shapes or delicate lighting can add a contemporary flair while maintaining an aura of understated elegance.

Engagement decorators hold the key to bringing the couple's vision to life. By embracing a minimalist philosophy, decorators can unleash their creativity in unconventional ways. Rather than relying on extravagant embellishments, they can harness the power of simplicity to craft timeless designs that speak volumes. From minimalist floral arrangements to sleek table settings, every detail can contribute to a cohesive aesthetic that captivates the senses.

Less really is more when it comes to minimalist decoration for your engagement ceremony. Instead of packing the space with too much décor, concentrate on making attention-grabbing focal areas that have an impact. A focal point of the décor concept can be one statement object, like a delicate floral arrangement or a highly detailed centrepiece. You may achieve a pleasing visual balance that makes an impression by letting each piece shine in its simplicity.

Engagement décor is not just about aesthetics; it's about creating an immersive experience for the couple and their guests. A minimalist approach allows for greater intimacy and connection, fostering a sense of warmth and authenticity. By stripping away the distractions, couples can focus on what truly matters – celebrating their love surrounded by the people who matter most.

One of the key principles of minimalist engagement ceremony is the concept of decluttering. Instead of overwhelming the space with a myriad of decorations, focus is placed on a select few elements that make a statement. Whether it's a single elegant centerpiece or a minimalist floral arrangement, each piece is carefully chosen to complement the overall aesthetic. This deliberate approach ensures that every detail contributes to the overarching theme of simplicity and sophistication. Incorporating minimalist principles into engagement decoration requires careful planning and attention to detail. Start by defining a clear vision and selecting a cohesive color palette that reflects the couple's style. Embrace clean lines and uncluttered spaces to create a sense of serenity and sophistication. Choose quality over quantity when it comes to décor elements, opting for timeless pieces that will stand the test of time.

Engagement stage decoration should complement the couple's journey, serving as a backdrop for their love story. Whether it's a rustic outdoor setting or a chic urban venue, let simplicity be the guiding principle in transforming the space into a reflection of the couple's unique bond. Engage with experienced engagement decorators who understand the nuances of minimalist design and can bring the couple's vision to fruition with finesse.

In conclusion, minimalist engagement decoration offers a fresh perspective on wedding aesthetics, emphasizing simplicity and sophistication. By embracing a less-is-more mentality, couples can create a memorable experience that resonates with their personal style and values. From stage decor to table settings and floral arrangements, every aspect of the décor can be infused with minimalist charm. Let simplicity be your guiding light as you embark on this journey of love and celebration.

#engagement #decoration

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brodersentemple50 · 2 months

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Anyone Could Possibly Get Cheap Flights By Traveling Off Season

Hence the name it so rightly has earned - Perfume Lake. Can be no shortage of honest ones to chose from. In a position take you there close to the lowest of costs? The southern end is lower than the northern end. We walked across the impressive bridge spanning the Perfume River looking for Lac Thien restaurant. Famous for being run a new family of deaf mutes, this but another eating experience not to missed. Meals is is cheap and savory! Tin tổng hợp Top Thua Thien Hue AZ From here are generally only a block in the Citadel then. View More: topthuathienhueaz.com - Top Thua Thien Hue AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Thua Thien Hue AZ: Võ Tá Thành Minh - Vo Ta Thanh Minh Five long days later my motorbike was ready: Harry had restored it in the original style on the Royal Enfield, with a chromed tank, red paint and golden lines, a classical luxury. When I first saw her, she took my breath away. Began to feel scared, really scared. Wouldn't I be able to handle these 170 kilograms of metal? "You have to give her a name, you bear in mind. For a man a bike is customer. We always speak of her, like speaking of a buff. But you are a woman, so I'm not sure how this works with you." said Harry. Honestly, I really didn't know. I maintained referring to my bullet in my thoughts as "the bike". But a name? Tin Top Thua Thien Hue AZ News Luckily I had no issues with the issue. Clearly, this red and chrome beauty was female. 'Yes. Wrong with your mother?' The Prince wanted know this sickness, maybe it was why people sometimes disappeared from the palace for just about any few months, sometimes for a long time.

View More: topthuathienhueaz.com - Top Thua Thien Hue AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Thua Thien Hue AZ: Võ Tá Thành Minh - Vo Ta Thanh Minh Short breaks, weekend getaways, business conferences or simply a home base to explore Devon countryside from - Torquay great for all purposes, all year long. Endless beaches, coves, watering holes, cliffs, the surf as well as the waves make Torquay enticing. Even if you cannot swim it, you can walk which it! Several of Torquay beaches are at the South West Coast Path and offers awesome feelings. His nursemaid sitting afar watched, a frown creasing her brow. Her young charge was always someone to lead the youngsters, following your sacred plough in the hands of his father the King, begging to be allowed to lose seeds into the furrow. Perhaps he was growing up; she hoped the King had not noticed. The Forbidden Hue City in Viet Nam: The Imperial residence was designed to awe, and still is performing. The artwork alone is astonishing, 1 the few examples of that highly ornate and symbolic decorative style surviving in one piece. This is where the Manchu Qing Dynasty rose and fell, and where modern China looks back on associated with years of turmoil. It the nice attic with high ceilings, so it wasn't almost everything bad. It was fall plus it was cool in there which was always a welcome step. As soon as I stepped into the attic, the mobile phone rang. Murphy's Law. I let it go to my voicemail because usually sound very professional looking for talk via a respirator! It's now time to find out about that royal things you eat! Head to industry industry and to view fresh produce on display, the associated with Hue's diet. Top Thua Thien Hue AZ 247 Enjoy a vegetarian lunch going at a Buddhist pagoda with monks before experiencing the rest in the day at leisure.

But Hue is not necessarily famous because vegetarian meals. It also has a tradition of proper cuisine across all food types. For their reasonable sum a feast may be had. Whether you eat perched on a tiny stool on the pavement maybe a restaurant the food will be delicious. This city is identified as the Imperial Palace Public. It was constructed during the Ming Dynasty and is well known for its building made out of exterior wood. The construction is complex however it has been preserved better. It's also primary all over the world. Features rooms in excess of than 9,000 and was built on more than 250 hectares. To learn stories about the palace, is actually always advisable to put together a travel guide; whether or not it is not possible, or even recorders may can borrow. The structure from it reflects china touch in architecture may become comes to palaces. Although Elche can be visited at any time during the year, the best time to go to the city is inside month of August when there several fiestas in honour for the Virgin in the Assumption. A medieval lyrical and religious mystery play, 'Misteri', is accomplished at this occassion and a event in order to mention be not so great.

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One of the sites end up being visited if in Beijing may be the Temple of Heaven. The temple is located in an area of 2,700,000 square meters. The temple is larger than the Forbidden City, but smaller compared to the Summer Palace. This temple was constructed in 1420 An.D, which was during the Ming Empire. The purpose of the temple was to extend sacrifice to The night sky. Beijing offers four changing seasons. This makes it easier if anyone is to tour Beijing whenever you want of the whole year. The spring season starts from April to May and the warm. The temperature in day and also night takes a different approach. Summer starts from the mid of June. It is the hottest time of the year. Rainfall is also common during summers. Next comes autumn which starts from the mid of September and goes till October. It's the best time to explore Beijing. You will find plenty of tours to get along with of the entire year. The temperature is found mild and enjoyable. Winter is discussed season of the year of course which starts from November and lasts till Celebration. Visitors love coming during the winters delight Hue City in Viet Nam winter games in Beijing. Set within a fantasyland of elves, orcs, monsters, myths and magic, you become aware of a plot to overthrow the present emperor as he recognizes you from a dream and entrusts you at a time search for his illegitimate child. The dominion is overrun by monsters from Hell which are now transported for a dimension through Oblivion Throughways. To learn the secrets of closing the gates you must first flee the Imperial City, being careful not to come under attack by these loathsome beings. Da Nang. During the Vietnam War, American soldiers headed to Da Nang for R&R. The beaches were pristine then, and also so they are still clean and dazzling in this time. Da Nang has some with the most stunning beaches in the world. While it does see its share of visitors, it largely remains a concealed treasure a lot of of its most memorable spots are tucked away, waiting to discovered. Da Nang is not tourist-friendly within that its attractions are disseminate and its best are unadvertised. Go to the Cham Museum, Cham Island, Ba Hill Na Station, and the Marble Mountains, and the wondrous My Son Sanctuary, which recently been called convey . your knowledge spot to visit in Da Nang. This city furthermore less expensive than neighboring Hoi An and Ho Chi Min City. In the arena involving Imperial city, watch the blue team archer as he does archery. About 50 % the time, you can enter there and grab the arrows he was using obtaining to caught! Ensure that you save first through, since only pull off it about 50 % of the time. Not the best odds, but hey its free! Top Thừa Thiên Huế AZ 24h But Hue is merely famous due to the fact vegetarian food. It also has a tradition of wonderful cuisine across all food types. To order reasonable sum a feast may be had. Whether you eat perched on the tiny stool on the pavement or in a restaurant the food will be delicious. Mt Fuji is the particular mountain in Japan, by using a beautifully symmetrical volcanic spool. It goes without saying that majestic Fuji Mountain is worth visiting Place to visit in Asia. Mt Fuji area is worth visiting too, as a result of Fuji five lakes and Hakone which is famous for its hot arises. The are the perfect reflecting pools for the mountain's absolute wonder. Tin Top Thua Thien Hue AZ News These few wonders in the town Sale ' Cheshire are a variety what always be be ended up with. This place has been dated in order to twelfth century and has a lot of history for people to learn dealing with. Visitors and residents expertise some history, in that they will talk a type of this town with the kids. 'Does she have a vaid - a healbot?' Prince Siddha's eyes filled through having an unknown uncomfortableness. Dayima said the vaids could heal it all. So why was the boy's mother allowed to. to cough blood! I don't remember just how many times I almost got killed on Indian tracks. Trucks were swerving towards our family. Jeeps almost struck me. Deep holes opened up in the very center of the road. In remote valleys with the Himalayas I fell into icy rivers while crossing them.yet my bullet required everywhere. In Himachal Pradesh we visited McLeod Ganj, the exile of the Dalai Lama. We participated at a Kalachakra, a tantric initiation, in Jispa, a little village in Himachal Pradesh. We drove through Rajasthan down to Goa. We even spent two weeks in Osho's ashram in Pune. View More: topthuathienhueaz.com - Top Thua Thien Hue AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Thua Thien Hue AZ: Võ Tá Thành Minh - Vo Ta Thanh Minh Written By Author in topthuathienhueaz.com: Tôn Thất Nhật Bình - Ton That Nhat Binh Written By Author in topthuathienhueaz.com: Nguyễn Thị Lan Anh - Nguyen Thi Lan Anh

#Top Thua Thien Hue AZ #Hue Viet Nam

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candy-floss-crazy · 5 months

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Mini Carousel Hire - Hire Our Stunning Little Carousel

Hire A Mini Carousel. No matter its age, a carousel remains an essential centerpiece for any good party The Victorian Carousel is the most ornate, breathtaking ride available on the fairground. Together with the helter skelter and ferris wheel it makes up a trio of the iconic funfair rides. Unfortunately due to the work involved and the operating costs, it is one of the most expensive to hire for corporate events. It also isn't as relaxed and tame as it looks, for smaller kids, they will need an adult to accompany them whilst riding it. You can have a great alternative, why not hire the mini carousel. It isn't really suitable for adults, but it is fabulous for kids. A carbon copy of its larger companion, this has all the same decoration and lighting just in a smaller package. This can be set up in around an hour as opposed to the 5-6 it takes for a full sized alternative, allowing you to hire it at a vastly reduced price. Check out our other kids rides... Mini Carousel Wedding Hire For weddings and parties this offers the same photo opportunity, with the bride and groom in front of a traditional carousel horse, with a backdrop of traditional artwork and lights. Weddings have moved from the staid boring affairs of your grandparents times, nowadays people expect to be entertained and have some fun. Corporate Events And The Mini Carousel Its also a super ride for corporate use. Whether its as part of the entertainment at you company funday, or a sales promotion for your latest product launch. This can help get the social media love flowing, and makes a change from handing out the usual pens, or stress balls to your guests. Complimentary Funfair Attractions A carousel of either size ticks all the boxes and can be teamed with any of the following to make it an even better day; •Waltzers •Dodgems •Ferris Wheel •Helter Skelter •Fairground Games •Thrill Ride Hire •Funfair Catering Safety In line with all of our attractions, the carousel is supplied with; •£10 Million Public Liability Insurance •Method Statements •Risk Assessments •Annual ADIPS Saety Certificate •Fire Assessments •Maintenance Records •Daily Check Records Most of these are currently legal requirements to operate fairground rides, so beware any supplier that cannot cover these. Brief History Of The Carousel The original Carousels appeared during the golden age of the fairground, when most of the larger rides were powered by steam engines. The first of the rides appearing had been much smaller, powered by a hand turned crank, and limited by the strength of the person winding the crank. A farm engineer called Frederick Savage invented a method of powering rides from a centrally mounted steam engine. This led to a massive increase in the size and complexity of the rides, and many of them were highly gilded and decorated. Mini Carousel Hire. Funfair rides throughout the U.K., including London, Scotland, The Midlands, The North East, Lancashire and Yorkshire, perfect for college events, military functions, weddings, parties, corporate functions, private hire, corporate events, exhibitions and company fun days. Mini golf hire for weddings. 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 Read the full article

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hitchell-mope · 7 months

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(Third film. After “I won’t say I’m in love”. Back in Olympus’s library. Evie’s found a book full of her scholastic accomplishments. Inside it she’s found a dvd disc labelled “Senior Year Showcase”. She’s just put it in a disc drive located in a projector. In the video. Doug and Evie are sitting at an extremely ornately decorated grand piano situated in front of the entire student body. This is when “suddenly Seymour” happens. After the song. Evie notices somebody standing behind her)

Evie: you filmed this. I can’t believe you filmed this. And I can’t believe you brought it here.

Persey: of course I filmed it. I was the TA in charge of the showcase. And of course I brought it here. You’re my baby sister. Plus my mother asked.

Evie: oh

Persey: don’t let it stoke your ego though. I brought Ben and Mal’s performance of “Dead Girl Walking” back here as well. Although having said that. I kinda hope that you did burn and/or drown that dvd. That was....a, ah, disturbing, four and a half minutes to say the least.

Evie (experiencing highly vivid and highly disturbing, flashbacks): yup.

Persey: but you cannot deny that Ben rocked that plaid skirt

Evie (who’s the one that had to dress Ben for that incredibly harrowing performance): nope. No he did not

Persey: each to their own I guess.

Evie: did you follow me in here.

Persey: well. Yeah

Evie: why?

Persey: bad news. Mal’s missing. Good news. Harry’s dead

Evie: so?

Persey: “so”? That’s all you can say? “So”? Our sister’s missing and all you can say is “so”?

Evie: well, yeah, I mean, I’m not my sisters keeper, am I?

Persey: no, but

Evie: good. Now I’m going to find Doug and then I’m going to go to Arendelle and check on Dizzy. I’m washing my hands of this whole fucking affair.

Persey: you can’t just walk away when your family needs you.

Evie: you are not my family

Persey: but Mal is

Evie (derisively): Hah! Some family. She insults me. She beats me to a pulp because I refuse to let your slut of a father into my life. And to top it all off. She’s banned me from designing her wedding dress.

Persey: is that what this boils down to? You being pissed because Mal won’t let you control her?

Evie: that girl needs to be controlled okay? She needs to be told what wear, what to eat, how to behave or she’ll make a kess of herself and my good name.

Persey: tell me. At what point do you plan to lock her up in your attic and only let her out to clean your kitchen?

Evie: what?

Persey: you’re sounding like your mother, dearie.

Evie: I am nothing like Grimhilde. I’m a great mother to Dizzy.

Persey: wasn’t talking about Dizzy. You have, at best, an underlying, residual, inferiority complex towards Mal so you’re trying to model her into what you think a queen should be. Or at worst. You’re taking your anger at your mother out on Mal. And Mal really does not deserve that.

Evie: screw you.

Persey: okay. You know what? I’ve tried to be nice. I’ve tried to be cruel. I’ve tried to be a sibling. And now I’ve only one recourse left.

Evie: which is?

Persey: teaching.

(They grab Evie’s arm and drag her back to the throne room. Once there. They construct a pilots wheel at the western railing)

Persey: stand over there

Evie: why?

Persey: because your Teaching Aid has asked you to. Now go.

Evie: I never liked you

Persey: feelings mutual. Now go.

Evie: what is this?

Persey: a pilots wheel.

Evie: who for?

Persey: you. You’re gonna pilot Olympus into the battle zone.

Persephone: um. Sweetheart. I’m not entirely sure about this

Persey: don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.

Evie: why me?

Persey: you’re in desperate need to control something. So why not a heavenly kingdom? Don’t fret none though. I’ll talk you through it.

Evie: oh really?

Persey: really?

(This is when “road to paradise” happens. After the song. Evie looks unimpressed)

Evie: well that’s all well and good. But just in case you’ve forgotten. I don’t know how to fly myself. Least of all pilot a fucking kingdom.

Persey: ah but you piloted the Hawkins Surfer up here didn’t you?

Evie: then it crapped out because of the Failsafe and you had to save me from plummeting to my death.

Persey: alright let’s try it a different way then. What’s your goal?

Evie: my what?

Persey: you survive all this. What do see yourself doing tomorrow night?

Evie (eyes closed and a smile forming on her face): Doug. I’m in dougs office and we’re going over our accounts for the month.

Persey: good. Good. Now you keep picturing that. And you lot. With me. We’ve got work to do

(This is when “immortals” happens. After the song. Evie looks like she’s about commit quadruple familicide)

Evie: let me go now or you’ll meet the same fate as ZEUS!!!!

Persey: yeah yeah yeah whatever. You need to focus.

Evie: on what exactly.

Persey: anything. What you hate. Who you love. Anything that will permit you to tune into Olympus and help you fly it.

Evie: I’ve already told you before. I don’t believe in any of this bullshit.

(Fed up with Evie’s stubbornness, Persey unstraps from their throne and marches over to their sister)

Persey (their hair slowly igniting in electric grey flames): and I’ve already told before. That this isn’t about you and I don’t give a shit what you want. You are not the important one here. Mal is. So stand there, shut up and just DO WHAT I FUCKING WELL TELL YOU TO DO!!!!

(The flames disappear from their head)

Persey: sorry about that. You’re just. Really difficult sometimes.

Persephone: um. May I try?

Persey: be my guest mother.

(Persephone unstraps from her throne and walks over to Evie as Persey goes and straps themself back in)

Persephone: look. I know you hate us. I know you’re in this “woe is me, I’m the world’s punching bag” phase of your life. It happens. Persey was the same. And I’m sorry sweetheart, you are capable of many things, but pulling off the bald look is not one of them.

Persey: hm. Fair.

Persephone: but Evie. I was like you way back when. I had an overbearing, and abusive, mother myself.

Evie: where is she now?

Persephone: locked up in the dungeon and unconscious. I MAY have knocked her out with a chloroformed pillow.

Evie: yeah that tracks.

Persephone: plus. I also know about you and Chad

Evie: WHAT?!?!

Persephone: don’t blame your sibling. I was at family day.

Evie: oh.

Persephone: the point is. You are not your mother. You are not your first relationship. You have Doug. You have Dizzy. You have us if you let us. You don’t have to keep your past with you. Pain doesn’t make you strong honey. It just makes you hurt.

Evie (voice breaking slightly): what if I can’t though? What if I can’t let go of what my mother put me through and how that rat bastard dropped me like stone.

Persephone: that’s okay too. But just remember. Grimhilde is dead. Chad is locked up forever. You have a loving family and a thriving business. They. Have. Nothing.

Evie: I’m listening.

(This is when “set it all free” happens. After the song. The screen goes black. Then fizzes back to life to show Audreficent on every single screen in Auradon)

Audreficent: good evening Auradon. As you may have guessed by now. My daughter, Maleficent Bertha, had been done away with by yours truly. I am victorious. But not harsh. Therefore. I shall give you all, let’s say, 72 hours to surrender and pledge your undying loyalty to me. Failure to do so will result in my felling of every single man, woman and child across all kingdoms. I trust you will make the right decision. Have a pleasant evening.

(The screen fizzes back to black. Then opens again on the partially ruined museum where Doug has heard Audreficent’s message and is doing some calculations on his personal calculator, computer and phone)

Doug: ah Fuck!

(Something starts whistling above his head. He looks up to see what looks like twin comets falling straight towards him. Doug instinctively uses his magic to guide them gently to the ground)

Doug: what the hell are you two doing here?

Hadie (springing back up): WHOAH! Head rush!

Doug: yeah. Plummeting from the sky will do they to you. Is Gil okay?

Gil (deliriously): I am the starlight!

Doug: concussion. At least it’s manageable. All I gotta do is keep him awake until we can get him to Ella. Where’d you find him?

Hadie: falling. I have bad news.

Doug: Mal’s missing. Presumed dead.

Hadie: shit she’s dead? I thought she was just missing?

Doug: I don’t know. Possibly. I ran the numbers. There’s like a 99.9999999999% chance that Maleficent isn’t talking out of her ass. And if she isn’t. Then we’re in trouble.

Hadie: how so?

Doug: because, O Oneness, I know Ben and Mal. Those two are so codependently enteined within that they’d make the Winchester brothers look like Peg and Al Bundy. When they’re separated one is inconsolable and the other is unstoppable.

Hadie: oh that can’t be true.

Doug: oh but it is. You weren’t there last year. Ben was. Terrifying when Mal went back to the isle. And that was before we found out he had her magic. If there’s even the slightest chance that he thinks she’s in danger, or worse, dead. We are on. Our. Own. It doesn’t matter that I’m his regent. We’re dead

Gil (slurring his words): We’re dead. We’redeadwe’redeadwe’redead.

Doug: exactly. Stay there. I need to examine you.

Hadie: oh c’mon Douggie

Doug: don’t call me that.

Hadie: sorry Mr, uh....

Doug: Greenman

Hadie: Mr Greenman. What we need is a plan. And word round these parts is. You’re the idea guy. You know. Besides Carlos. What would we do if we wanted to give out a sign of rebellion to the old hag?

Doug: you’d probably have to burn something. Something big. Like the museum. And make an image of her corpse out of the flames or something. Gil. Please sit still. I can’t get an accurate count of your injuries if you keep moving about

Gil (voice wavering): sorry

Doug: that’s okay buddy. Just please help me help you? Okay?

Gil (sleepily): okay....

Doug (lightly shaking Gil’s shoulder): nope. None of that. You need to stay awake.

Hadie: c’mon Mr Greenman. Don’t be so....defeaty.

Doug: do you you mean defeatist?

Hadie: supposably. Anyhoo. Listen.

(This is when “hero is my middle name” happens. After the song. Doug turns to Hadie)

Doug: take Gil back to the palace. Tell Ella that he’s got a concussion and needs an ice pack and a 48 hour hold. I’ll take it from here.

(Hadie teleports back to the place with Gil. Doug summons back the cauldron corpses)

Doug: anything to report?

(Grimhilde rasps out some barely understandable words)

Doug: okay. Good. Jay and Carlos are safe. That’s good. What about Lonnie and Jane?

(Shan Yu rasps out some barely understandable words)

Doug: thank Christ for that. Alright. Try to get out of the barrier. If you do. Look for Mal. I have a feeling she might be in the Trench somewhere. Either way. Report back to me in an hour. Disperse.

(The corpses leave. As soon as they do. Doug here’s voiced approaching him and turns himself invisible)

Ursula: all I’m saying is. Maybe don’t put all your caviar on one plate quite yet. She’s already come back from the dead once. She might do so again

Audreficent: this is where you are wrong my dear. I have won. Auradon is mine. They will all bow down to me. Or they shall die. And do not ever. Try to rein me in again because you will not like the consequences.

(At this point Doug gets a very malicious idea)

Doug (still invisible and disguising his voice): that’s what you think.

Audreficent: who is that?

Doug (slowly and smugly): you can call me....your conscience. I wouldn’t expect you to remember me after all. It has been 2217 years. But nevertheless. I am telling you now. Put. An. End. To. It. Because you are not going to like the outcome.

Audreficent: and why would that be?

Doug: because it’s happening again isn’t it? She’s fighting you from the inside. You can’t keep a hero down.

Audreficent: I will not be swayed by a disembodied voice. Reveal yourself and I may be persuaded to listen to you.

Doug (inching toward with a bronze stake): not a chance.

Audreficent: why ever not?

Doug: because

(He drives the stake into the back of her neck)

Audreficent: AAAAUUUURRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!

Doug: I said so.

Ursula: WHO ARE YOU?!?!

Doug: like I said. Her conscience. And I don’t see why you’re defending her anyway. It’s not like you have a card in the game anymore. Not if she wins. Her grand plan. Has never included anyone but herself. And Diablo. You’re just a conduit. Your ex-highness

(He slowly and agonisingly removes the stake from Audreficent’s neck and teleports away)

Ursula: is it true?

Audreficent: of course it is true. When I am coronated. You, and all of your little aquatic denizens, will be first on the menu.

Ursula: I won’t let that happen. They’re mine. Not yours

Audreficent: I would NOT place a bet on that if I were you.

(Audreficent turns heel and stalks off. This prompts Ursula to use magic to attack them from behind)

Audreficent (invigorated by this turn of events): OH! Ohoho. Now we are getting somewhere. Come on then! Let rip! I know you want to! CRY HAVOCK!!!! AND LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR!!!!

(Ursula and Audreficent scream at each other and send streams of fury laden magic at each other’s faces which meet in the middle. This is when “poor unfortunate souls” happens. After the song. Audreficent uses her magic to punt Ursula into the stratosphere. She walks away, laughing, until black electricity traverses about her body causing her to crumple to the ground)

Audreficent: AUGH!!!! What is HAPPENING TO ME?!?!

Doug (teleporting back in but still invisible): you’re breaking down again. Humans cannot contain you. Chad failed. Audrey’s failing. You will fail. Mal will win. It is inevitable.

Audreficent: I refuse

Doug: there’s nothing you can do about it. Mal wil win. Mal will ALWAYS win

Audreficent: not if I can help it

(She teleports away. Once he’s sure she’s gone. Doug makes himself visible again)

Doug: that should by us some time. Now all I gotta do is keep the fire going and-oh good god what’s that?

(A giant marbled Thing is headed straight towards him. He jumps out the way just in time for it land, slightly clumsily, in the middle of the street)

Evie (popping out from behind the railing): hey honey!

Doug (completely flabbergasted and absolutely overjoyed): EVIE!!!!

(Inside Olympus)

Doug (completely and utterly amazed): I can’t believe I’m standing here right now. This is amazing. You. You are amazing.

Evie (immensely flattered): ah stop it. You’ll give me a big head

Doug: you deserve it. You piloted this entire place here by yourself. How’d you do it?

Evie: I had some encouragement from the extended family

Doug: Persey trapped you at the wheel didn’t they?

Evie: among other things yes.

Doug: that’s okay. I’ll call them out for it later. So. What’s the plan?

Evie: I was actually going to ask you about that. My plan was getting here and finding you

Doug: ah. Right. So. Um. Oh this is new. I don’t have have an idea. Why don’t I have an idea?

Evie: hey. It happens. It’s been a really intense 24 hours. You can’t be expected to keep running at full speed all the time. It’s okay to slow down.

Doug: yeah. Yeah. You’re right. And amazing. As always.

Evie: I try.

Doug: you exceed. C’mere.

(He pulls her close and they start slow dancing. This is when “ma belle Evangeline” happens. After the song. Evie squeaks)

Evie: oh my god

Doug: what is it? What’s wrong?

Evie: I have an idea.

Doug: then lead the way meine liebe.

(Back at the museum. Evie and Doug blast through what’s left of the doors, their hands ablaze with magic)

Evie: Higitus figitus zumbakazing.

Doug: We want your attention, everything.

(Immediately, every ruined object in the museum turns to look at them. This is when “all that jazz” happens. After the song. They hear an ambulance pull up to the destroyed museum)

Doug: aunt snow?

Snow White (climbing out of the ambulance): DOUGGIE!!!!

(She rushes to hug him)

Florian: hey Doug.

Doug: hey uncle Ian

Evie: woah, woah, wait. Isn’t Ben’s middle name Florian?

Florian: yup. First prince of the new regime named for the first prince of the old regime.

Evie: how old are you two?

Florian: 86.

Evie: heh?

Snow: don’t confuse the poor dear. We’re 37. Oh thank goodness. Here’re the others

Tarzan (swinging from what’s left of the telephone poles): WAHOOO!!!!

Jane: I am so sorry about this. He’s always like this when we leave the Basin.

Evie: Lord Greystoke. Lady Greystoke.

Doug: how’s Olaf?

Jane: he’s fine. He might be allergic to bananas. But he’s fine. My father’s looking into it.

Snow: where’s Mowgli?

Tarzan: Terk and Tantor.

Snow: ohhhh

Evie (her eyes as wide as dinner plates): ummmm. Doug.

Doug (knowing exactly what Evie was going to ask him): no. Forever and always. No.

Evie: worth a try.

Doug: always is.

Mowlgli (on Tantor’s back): WHOOHOO!!!!

Shanti (clinging onto Mowgli for dear life): AAAAHHHH!!!!

Evie: so Shanti hasn’t changed then.

Doug: nope. Now. Before I forget. Why are you all here?

Tarzan: is he in there?

Doug: Clayton? No. He’s probably in the forest unless Maleficent’s eaten him. Why do you ask?

Snow: we’re here to help. Ian’s driving the field ambulance. I’m fending off assailants with this nifty ray gun I’ve found. And Tarzan, Jane, Mowgli and Shanti have brought you some extra steeds for the cavalry

Doug: I’m sorry. You kinda lost me after RAY GUN?!?!

Mowgli: what’s cooking?

Evie: m-marble. Why?

Mowgli (walking up the museum steps): it smells like chicken. Or trout.

(He’s followed into the museum by Shanti, Tarzan and Jane)

Evie: uh. 🎶Doug🎶. Little problem here

Doug: -you’ve never even practiced archery. Neither of you can drive. What makes you think you can-Jesus Christ!

(He and Evie hurry into the museum)

Evie: why are they acting like this?

Doug: my best guess is midnight madness.

(At the remains of the information desk, Shanti is nursing a mulled mead, Tarzan and Mowgli and having a drinking competition and Jane is timing them)

Doug: what the HELL is going on here?

Shanti: nerves

Tarzan and Mowgli: drinking competition

Jane: refereeing.

Doug: why?

Mowgli: worlds ending

Tarzan: I’m thirsty.

Shanti: it’s the worst time of my life.

Jane: I was waiting for you dear.

Doug: right. Well. Um. Evie, sweetheart, wanna help me out here?

Evie: sure. Um. Stop drinking. Get kindling. We need to keep this fire going so Maleficent knows we can’t be beaten

Mowgli: oh do we have to?

Doug: yes! Go! Now!

Tarzan: what if we don’t want to?

Evie: You don’t have a choice. We’re in charge here. Not you.

Jane: Tarzan, sweetheart, please, do what they say.

Doug: leave them to me. I’ll convince them to get their heads out of their asses.

Evie: do you two have magic?

Shanti: yes. Your sisters spell got to us as well.

Evie: then you can help me with the fire. Good luck doug.

Doug: I’m gonna need it.

(Evie, Jane and Shanti leave)

Doug: alright Gentlemen. You’re in my house now

(This is when “burn it to the ground” happens. After the song. Snow White and Florian are waiting by the ambulance when they see Tarzan and Mowgli sail out of the museum doors)

Florian: we did tell you not to piss him off.

Mowgli: I’m not so good with following orders

Tarzan: neither am I.

Snow: get in the ambulance. I’ll patch you up. ARGH!

(She doubles over in pain and covers her ears. Everyone else inside and outside the museum follows suit as the fire, and the signal of rebellion, covering the museum is expunged)

Audreficent (in voiceover): I know you think you are smart my boy. I know you think that you have me beat. But that is beyond the realm of your capabilities. Auradon, you now have 48 hours. I strongly urge that you make the correct decision. Choose wisely. Goodbye.

(Doug rushes out of the museum)

Snow: it’s okay. We’re okay. We’re all okay. It’s going to be okay. You’ve got this. We know you do.

(Doug, looking crushed, nods, rushes back into the museum and kicks a stone bench into the far wall)

Evie: are your godparents okay?

Doug: yes. Yes. Um. The fires not going to work. We need to change course.

Evie: right. Uhhhh. Okay. So. OOHH. Intercom!

Shanti: interwhat?

Evie: we can send a message to the populace. Auradon. The forest. The bridge. The evac points. We can talk to them. You can talk to them.

Doug: okay. Um. Isn’t it destroyed though?

Evie (conjuring a new intercom device out of thin air): not anymore.

Doug: brilliant. Help me set it up?

Evie: course.

(Ten minutes, a little bit of magic, a few mild electric shocks and several very vulgar swear words later. Doug is ready to address the nation)

Doug: alright. I don’t know if you can hear this but. Mal is missing. Ben’s probably gone off to find her. Which means I’m in charge. And my official line on the current issue is. Don’t make it easy. Maleficent thinks she’s got us cornered. But she doesn’t. Don’t let her think that she does. Kick up a fuss. Fight harder than you ever have before. Don’t back down. Don’t surrender. Fuck them all up.

(This is when “riot” happens. After the song. The screen switches to a pitch black void. Floodlight’s activate in a strip down the middle of the ceiling illuminating Audrey curled up behind a woven steel door. Maleficent phases in and opens the door)

Audrey: what do you want?

Maleficent: your friends seem to be tougher than I previously thought.

Audrey: so?

Maleficent: well. Since it seems that I may lose. I have decided to let you go?

Audrey (perking up): really?

Maleficent: yes. Really. Off you pop. I shall be leaving you momentarily.

(Audrey rushes out of the cage)

Maleficent: however.

(Audrey stops dead in her tracks)

Maleficent: that is if, and only if, you can stand against me and my pretty little shades

Audrey: what!

Maleficent (slowly advancing on Audrey): run princess. Run. For your. Life!

(Audrey hightails it down the void with Maleficent in hot pursuit. This is when “killer in the mirror” happens. After the song. Maleficent makes the crucifix fall backwards into the void before it lands and shatters into several trillion pieces)

Audrey: owwww

A disembodied voice: you could get out of here you know.

Audrey: what? Who is it? Who’s there?

(Her father steps out of the darkness)

Phillip: hello Rosie.

Audrey: papa. How’re you here?

Phillip: I’m not. I’m in here.

(He taps Audrey’s left temple)

Phillip: we are in your brain after all.

Mal: he’s right you know.

Ben: it’s all happening inside your ole noggin.

Audrey: why are you two here?

Mal: Mal cast a spell. All her Allies have magic now. Including you.

Phillip: usually your subconscious takes the form of your base desires, your realism and your hyper altruism. Id. Ego. Superego. However. You’re alone. You hate yourself. And you’re terrified. So. I represent your sense of familiarity

Ben: I’m your regret.

Mal: and I’m your self hatred.

Audrey: yeah that makes sense. Are you gonna help me get out of this.

Phillip: no.

Audrey: ah jeez.

Ben: there is no escape until Maleficent either frees you or kills you.

Audrey: how do you know that?

Mal: because deep down. You do. You know there’s only two ways to get out of this.

Audrey: so why are you here? Why did you say there was a way out of this if there isn’t?

Phillip: it was a good opening line.

Audrey: of course.

Phillip: do you remember the song your father used to sing to you before bed until you “grew out of it”?