#and the writer doesn't even engage with dark fic that much

[domoriu]

i have some questions and i was wondering if you could answer them because you’re one of my favorite writers on here. plus you’re stories and vibe are very similar to mine so i’d love to here your POV!

do you have any advice and this on how to start a fanfic writing account? (on tumblr!)

how to make write good as in flow, wording, better sentences, etc? ik for this one it’s going to take practice but since i write a little already i was wondering how to make my writing actually sound good? (because urs is amazing!)

tips on motivation to write and post?

how is it as a writer on onedoorblr? (fics for bonedo) in terms of like the space to be able to post “different” stories. (hybrid, abo, freakysmutlol, femdom, dark as in tragedy’s and horror.) plus interactions, notes/likes?

sorry if this is a lot but i didn’t know who else to ask and you feel like a safer option to me of that makes sense? anyways we all love you and your stories a lot! 🩶 i hope the rest of your week is amazing (*^_^*)

OKAY I HAD TO GET ON MY LAPTOP TO ANSWER THIS ONE SINCE ITS A LOT!! also sorry if my advice is a little weird ive genuienly been in the fanfic scene for like 8 years now since i was 11 so i dont even know the answer to these myself (not my proudest moments btw...) so i'll try to give the best advice i can <3

1. i think... start off by finding a username that you think suits you a lot, and then worry about theme and all that just so your account looks good to your own eyes i think that'll really help with getting motivated to write (for me at least) and also really just have fun with it !! figuring out what you want to do on your page is also important so you can set those boundaries for yourself as well as the people engaging in your content but also always remember its your page so you can really do whatever you please. and dont be too discouraged by numbers because once you feel like its not fun and you're putting too much pressure on yourself it gets hard to make content.

2. for word building/flow all that kind of stuff... really imagine the scenarios in your head (maybe even act them out if you can, to make sure everything is flowing properly) if you're writing smut, what helps me is i look up sex positions or look up porn to get a good idea on the positioning and how to write things out. for word flow, i always have a thesaurus tab open that way i'm not using the same basic words repeatedly (this is probably the most helpful piece of advice imo, i love the thesaurus super bad) and also if you ever feel like the work isn't good or needs a little tweaking id say read it over, try to read it from the pov of someone who's reading your work for the first time or even get someone to beta read for you and give suggestions for any errors or anything that needs a bit of tweaking

3. for motivation, write down the gist of any idea you have down immediately because you might forget it or you'll just never have the motivation to really finish it. i have so many fic ideas locked away in a vault because i started writing the idea when the excitement for it died down or i completely lost motivation to write it because my brain wanted to move onto another fic idea.

write on your own schedule. just because you have a following doesn't mean you need to put out a new fic every single day, give yourself time to recollect your thoughts and work on a piece where you can put all of your attention into so you can be truly proud of your work !! because what's the point of writing something if you yourself don't even like it. and a lot of us have lives outside of tumblr, so don't pressure yourself to constantly write because soon you might get burnt out. i think having people who actually like my works is a lot of motivation as well as not feeling rushed to put things out so its like a little treat when i post something big

4. i love the people on onedoorblr !! the community isn't super big but she's growing a lot since i joined this fandom in april... and id say the range is pretty good with the people on here and everyone has their own unique things going on. i think its a pretty safe space here to write about "different" stuff, a lottt of my mutuals are all on the femdom kick when it comes to bonedo and there's a good balance of smut writers and people who write more fluffy things, i'm not sure how common the abo/hybrid/dark content fics are on onedoorblr since i don't tend to read fics in those categories but i have seen a couple hybrid bnd fics in passing !

since bnd tumblr is still kind of small you might not get a lot of notes upfront but it definitely builds up, unlike nct/enha/riize tumblr where you can basically get around 500/1k+ notes on a post within a couple days it might take a week or two also depending on who you write about. but don't get discouraged by it !! some members are just more popular in the fanfic world than others

i hope this was helpful and dont be afraid to ask any more questions >_< thank you soso much for liking my works and im glad u feel like my page is a safe space for questions that means a lot to me !! i hope your week is amazing as well <33

[citrinekay]

Hey! I’ve been meaning to reach out and say hi for a while! Finally, I got a re-blog from you, tysm!! I’ve seen quite a few of your JCW posts (and also your stuff on various fandoms on AO3) and I know you’re quite the JCW fan – me too! Actually, I wanted to message to let you know that I think what you’re doing with the Andy/Revolver fanfic you’re writing is amazing. I read the first chapter a few days ago and am interested to see what you do with the story. The way you are dealing with some very sensitive topics is so well written, and I love the thought you have put into Andy’s character to give him this dark backstory. I’m looking forward to reading the rest when it’s completed, I never do well with chapter by chapter!! Also, well done for being the first to post for the Revolver fandom, I remember a short time back having to do that for the Pachinko fandom and I was nervous as hell. You are a very talented writer for sure, so I know the Revolver one will be a good read. Hopefully you’ll be inspired with Gangnam B-Side too once we see more. Anyway, sorry for waffling on, but if you ever wanna enthuse about JCW feel free to message ❤️ ~ take care 

Hi!! I've also seen your name popping up on AO3 too whenever I go to publish something JCW-related, like oh there's that one other person who loves him as much as I do😊lol I watched Worst of Evil last October and just fell completely in love him/ haven't been able to get back out of the obsession spiral since then thanks to pretty much every work he's done being worth watching. I don't expect the fixation to end any time soon haha

I'm genuinely so happy to receive feedback on my Revolver fic! Before I started posting, I made peace with the fact that it wasn't going to get much engagement since I had to create the fandom tag myself, but of course I do want some people to read and enjoy it. I was also fairly nervous about approaching those sensitive topics, so it's a relief to know that the way I'm presenting it doesn't feel offensive or tactless. It's always my intention to show the dark sides of human nature and relationships in a compelling but empathetic way. I couldn't stop thinking about the crumbs they gave us about Andy and Grace's relationship after I finished watching the movie, especially that final scene on the mountain when he begs her not to leave him and Madam Jung's comment to Suyeong that there's "rumors that he's her lover." She doesn't even allow people to know he's really her mom, which in and of itself could be pretty damaging to someone's development, but it seemed to me that the toxicity between them goes further than just this secret. They were clearly manipulating each other in that moment when she starts to walk away and then he cries and begs her not to leave. I thought that it seemed as if they had been through this type of push-and-pull before, a vicious cycle from which there is no escaping, and I really wanted to examine what had led up to that point.

It also really struck me that even though Andy is a privileged, wealthy person, he is drinking alone when Suyeong first meets him. Nobody rushes to his rescue when she's beating him and nobody really cares that he got hurt afterward (not even Grace, she's just mildly annoyed!) While it's true that his behavior invites getting his ass kicked, I think that anyone acting with such conscious disregard of their own life and everyone else's might have serious trauma that has never been addressed. Anyway, I totally understand waiting to read the fic until it's complete and I hope you enjoy the rest once it's done. I'll be updating weekly, so it shouldn't be too much longer.

Also, absolutely yes about Gangnam B-Side. I watched the first 2 episodes on Wednesday evening and my brain is already tickling with many thoughts about Gilho. As always, JCW is delivering a performance full of depth and nuance 🖤 I'll wait until the show has finished airing and I have all the character details to start writing but atm I can almost guarantee there will be some fics coming from me!

[raspberrilady]

White Roses || William James Moriarty x Reader

a/n: Finally, here, a fic written with my friend as my hypewoman on this William piece, and me being a cheerleader on her Scaramouche fic. Ask her kindly and maaaybe she will translate a thing.

Word count: around 16,000 words divided into a prologue, 9 chapters and an epilogue. You might consider reading it on AO3

Treat this piece as an embodiment of my brianriot that was a sole thought of wanting to see a William with a soft, kind and a bit naïve lady. She will have her character development throughout the story, though. I just wanted some longer angst-fluff fic and it’s a bit dumb and silly and not that majestically written.

Warnings: Female reader, mentions of Christianity, too many scenes involving tea, not that good word choices. Translation isn’t my thing. Angst, fluff and suggestive fic.

Mary Hale isn't sure if she wants to wake her roommate up.

In her eyes, you look terrible and won't be able to get yourself presentable in the next ten minutes, when the next lesson will start. Your hair is tangled, your sleeping face bears a strange expression, and the bags under your eyes are dark. A book with an emerald cover loosely clasped in your hands betrays what [Name] [Surname] was doing all night.

For that, you blame all writers whose passionate, engaging novels keep you awake at abnormal hours. Late nights are the only quiet time in the dormitory. It's soundless enough to keep you focused and dark enough to finely hide dark blushes on your face in case your roommate woke up. She would still scold you for using the lamp, and the mood would be ruined, so you always keep the light low.

Mary Hale rolls her eyes and decides to leave you be. Either way, she doesn't know you well enough to care that much, even if you've shared a room for half a year. She spends her time perfecting her art of flirting outside the dormitory, and you... Well, she guesses you read a lot and don't mind showing up to class unprepared.

She couldn't be so careless in her appearance as you as she doesn't plan to waste her time on books much longer. She will find a wealthy lover and never lift a finger again to work, let herself sink in tons of compliments and be adored by the man of her life. That is her dream, which she devotes herself to.

She leaves the room almost without slamming the door.

Mary has no intention of being late for class. Math isn't that much important as the young professor who is an exceptional candidate for her lover. The thought of a forbidden, somewhat indecent relationship curves the corners of her mouth into a mirthful grin.

Huh. And she is surprised that this kind of thing is preventing you from sleeping, even if only on paper.

Chapter I

You are late.

William James Moriarty notes the attendance with a quick glance as he enters the room. Several seats remain empty: you and another student, who always sits in the first row—August Hearst—are missing. He also notices two unfamiliar ladies, unenrolled students who showed a sudden interest in trigonometry after seeing William. Amazing.

He puts on a gentle professor's smile, closing the door behind him and its hinges click quietly.

„Good morning. I welcome you all to the next class,” he says, standing in the middle of the room. Everyone raises and responds to his greeting. “Before we move on to the next subject, please take a look at your exams and my commentary on them. If you have any inquiries, don't hesitate to ask me. Unfortunately, two people did not pass and-”

The door creaks loudly, although you've been careful when opening it. You slip into the room and with a hasty “I'm sorry...” take your seat.

“...And that is why they will have to attend supplementary classes to catch up. This test was difficult, but I assure each of you that the knowledge you’ll gain after it will be useful in the future.”

He takes the corrected exams. His shoes clatter against a wooden floor as he hands in the exams one by one, congratulating successful students and giving knowing looks to those that don’t have math as their forte.

“Miss [Name],” his soothing tone doesn't sound threatening, yet the shiver runs down your spine. He places a test in front of you, and you notice how your calculations on the first page are almost completely crossed out. “I am inclined to suspect that the day you wrote your test was not your finest moment. Most of the data had already been misspelt in the first lines. Could it be that something was distracting you?”

You look at him with surprise and shake your head vigorously. Professor Moriarty most likely knows that he is (not only) your biggest distraction, especially since in (not only) your eyes he is perfect. Pulled straight out of a novella. Romantic one, probably. You could point which book.

Not that you are absurdly bad at all these calculations and logical thinking. But one could mess this badly only if there was something else involved, like immunity to handsome men.

And yet he plays ignorant and thus makes you even more nervous.

It isn't easy to look for an excuse. After all, you can't really say 'Hiring a handsome, young teacher as a maths was a fatal mistake by the university' or something along these lines.

“I've been having trouble sleeping lately...” Your confession is half-hearted, as you stare stubbornly at the test result which almost makes you tear up.

“Oh? Well, I can't argue that a good novel might keep one awake better than a math book,” he says with a benevolence that makes you even more embarrassed, and you blush. “Perhaps a tea of St John's wort or chamomile will be able to help you.”

You gently turn toward him and nod shyly. He smiles and ends up handing out tests. Then, he goes back to the blackboard and writes down the few formulas that caused the most problems.

Seeing how trivial your mistakes were, you start to question why you are here. Well, you somehow like the classes and your parents wanted you to take up a chance and study. And, of course, William teaches here, but it must've math, that you can't understand at all.

You sigh. How unromantic.

***

For the rest of the lecture, you've been sitting quietly, jotting down the most crucial things. Or you've tried to, as your notes started to fill up with mindless scribbles next to some formulas. You are relieved to get up from your seat when the class’s time is up.

You move towards the door along with the other classmates when you hear your name called.

“Miss [Surname]!” You don't need to turn around to realize that the voice belongs to Professor William. Even that bad mark on your exam didn't make you resent him out of spite, you notice with another beat of your heart as you approach him.

“Yes...?”

“I would like to remind you once more about the supplementary classes,” he says calmly, observing your reaction. He could point to the anxiety in your slightly widened eyes and a stab of frustration in the way your lips twitched slightly. William smiled and was mindful that it is time to change the topic. “Apropos, Miss [Surname], I have heard that the second volume of the 'Taste of Enchantment' has appeared in our library.”

Now William watches as a surprise takes over your body as the bashful redness start to spread on your face, he considers this state better than your silent puffing and pouting.

…

How does he know about this book?

'Taste of Enchantment' is an average romance with an awkward title. The protagonist is a dull lady, but not in a way you could describe yourself, as she was too perfect. You would drop the book by the first three chapters if not for the main character’s significant other, who, as you’ve decided, quite resembles William.

“How did you know I read the first volume?” You ask with an uncertain, polite smile.

William hums lightly. “I happen to be very interested in the literature my students read. I noticed you recently with the book, so I decided to try it myself.”

...That is mortifying. You know so many books and your lecturer had to caught you reading this mediocre crap. The ending of the first volume may have been quite good, you admit it yourself, but overall it was...

…Yeah, mediocre crap is an adequate way to describe it.

“If I had known, I would have had in hand a more interesting novel than this one...,” you chuckle to shake off the awkward feeling and lower your gaze on your watch. There is still some time to eat breakfast. You did a slight curtsey. “Excuse me, professor, but I will be going now. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course, miss [Surname]. I hope to see you in the supplementary classes,” you nod, already resigned to your fate, and he smiles as you take your leave. It sweetens the fact you will have even more limited free time.

If he had stopped you, he would see a scarlet blush covering your cheeks before you got out of the room. Your throat is dry, and any further words would have died on your tongue.

Almost with relief, you leave William's classroom.

'Taste of Enchantment'...

The blush again douses your face, and you close your eyes while rebuking yourself quietly. You couldn’t believe that a crappy romance book that would rather suit a somewhat-read teenager would make your heart beat fast and not because of the frustrating plot.

And you wanted to be a model student, [Name]?

Chapter II

Never before in your life have you been so nervous yet excited for a lesson to start.

Even though you are theoretically here as punishment for not studying enough math or just not being talented enough to master it effortlessly, it is hard to get the nervous smile off your face. You try to not let your fluster show, tightening your fingers on the covers of your books.

With your free hand, you reach for a door.

The class is almost empty and the sight of it reminds you of a lively marked suddenly going vacant. It’s unusual and leaves a nostalgic feeling behind.

“Welcome back, Miss [Name],” William's velvety voice greets you as soon as you walk through the door, and the world around seemed to dim in his presence. “I'm glad you found time for me.”

“O... of course,” you reply hazily, sitting down by the desk that is closer to the blackboard than your usual seat. You don’t want to look impolite, would you take a sit that far away, when there are only two people in the class...

...Or rather, there should have been two people, because the second student—another failure in terms of math—hasn't arrived yet.

“Ah,” William notices your unspoken question. “You are currently the first one to arrive. The most punctual. I'll admit I have no idea whether Mr Hearst will join us. There are three minutes left before the scheduled time... But,” the smile he gives you is charming enough, you can't focus on his words, “we will somehow manage together either way, won't we, Miss [Name]?”

You smile shyly, only nodding in response. You don't like how you can't do anything about your slightly flushed cheeks. Math, math, math. You came here to learn math. Not for your handsome teacher.

You can't let yourself romanticize the situation and face the cruel reality you’re failing your classes.

You spread your books out on the desk. Once you're holding a pen in your hand, William sighs softly and begins explaining everything about trigonometry from scratch. He asks you questions, and you can feel the attention on you, which you both don't want and... somehow, makes you happy.

You solve a few tasks under his watchful eye and encouraging smile. They are easier than what was on the test, but Williams tries to convince you that the solutions are to be crafted with the same scheme.

You are absorbed with the paper in front of you, occasionally biting your lip.

While you’re absorbed with the paper in front of you, William observes watchfully the changes in your expression: from a bit of confusion to concentration and then a smile of satisfaction and surprise as you write down the answer. He approaches you and leans over to take a look at what you have written.

Your tense by the light feeling of his warm breath. He’s so close. You can discern the light smell of roses. Is this cologne?

If anyone else were in his shoes, you would be terrified by this proximity. Now, somehow, you aren't.

“Mhm, both first exercises are correct, but in the third, you have used the wrong formula.” He hums right next to your ear. His voice is quiet, almost coming out as a whisper.

You press your lips together in a narrow line as your cheeks become even redder. You mutter something under your breath, correcting the data. You don't dare to look at him, because your heart’s beat fastened and you don’t want it to jump out of your chest or stop.

…How delightful.

“Professor Moriarty...?” You whisper, drawing his attention back to you from his wandering thoughts.

“Forgive me Miss [Na-]” SHHHHHHHHHHH!! His apology is interrupted by the creak of the door opening. William straightens up and turns around. At the threshold stand two—...two?—late students; Mary, your roommate, and a boy whose locks of chestnut-coloured hair you've been seeing in class around five rows in front of you.

“I'm sorry for being late!” Mary Hale giggles cutely through her apology. She notices William and she smiles charmingly in his direction. She hadn't been invited to extra classes—but who would have a good reason to deny an eager student extra maths lessons?

Still, even as your beloved professor gracefully moves away from your desk, you can smell his cologne. You shift your gaze to the newcomers, distracting yourself from the scent of roses.

Mary greets the professor who answers her with the same courtesy. The man who you barely knew from the classes, hesitantly takes a seat next to you, bowing his head slightly in silent “good morning”.

You smile timidly in return.

“Of course, professor!” The melodic voice of Mary steals your attention once again. You glance again at the... pair that looks very good on each other sides. It pains you how the golden locks of Mary's hair give her a princess look, that matches William's gentlemanly appearance.

…Hm. They look like the main couple from the “Taste of Enchantment”, and you can't help but pout with dissatisfaction.

...Well, either way, William seems to like you a bit more than her! Probably. You guess. You hoped so. Maybe you are seeing whatever you want to see, and want to cheer yourself up, but... You don't know what you would do if you stopped using your imagination.

The warmth on your previously red cheeks suddenly seems to prickle, just as ice dabbed on your skin.

Mary is more... more than you. You can't put your finger on the source of her charm, but you suspect that her big blue eyes, almond-shaped face and feminine curves have something to do with it. Her voice is always layered with honey, and even sweeter words can turn any man into her lover. Hm... Well, maybe you can tell why was she popular, but that doesn't make you any happier.

How can William not resist this charm? His aura that spellbinds people is as strong as hers, and the effects are well-known throughout the academy.

…

You don’t notice the glaze of tears that forms over your eyes before a gentle nudge snaps you out of your reverie.

Someone's hand is extended discreetly towards you with a flower-embroidered handkerchief between their fingers. The consoling gaze of your desk companion is the only thing that stops you from bursting into tears. You really can't understand how can you be so oversensitive about the scenario going over in your head.

“Everything will be alright,” you hear the warm voice of a stranger. “...The very fact that you are still trying to understand math, means that you are a very strong woman.”

You take the handkerchief and wipe away the traces of traces. “...Thank you.” With a gesture, your companion signals you can keep the piece of this beautiful material to yourself. You nod your head in another thank you. “We're both strong, even if our grades say otherwise.”

He laughs heartily. “And that is very good thinking, dear lady!”

“Miss [Name], Mr Hearst,” the two of you look at your professor who must have finished talking with Mary. At William's heavy gaze, Mr Hearst moves away to give a decent distance between you. “Let me start the class properly, please. I will write out some formulas and instructions on the board for you. Try to solve them and bring me your calculations tomorrow. And now, going to the further topic...”

You can feel your eyes on yourself more often than normally. You catch William's gaze lingering on you. Your heart is beating loudly, but not in a joyful rhythm. It was something between a melody of uncertainty and melancholy, that doesn't allow you to raise your gaze. No, you can't do that without hope that helped you today to get up at an absurdly early hour... Absurdly early hour for you, 8 am.

…

You are aware of your jealousy. Comparing William and Mary to the characters from your new favourite book completely ruined your mood, but it was only your fault. You should stop overthinking and get a grip.

You finish the lesson by noting down the formulas. It is hard to do it correctly, because you've been avoiding looking at William, and the fact that he is constantly standing next to the blackboard doesn't help. 

The chime of a bell at the end of class sounds angelic.

You cram all your belongings—two books, a fountain pen and a notebook with some pages unintentionally crumpled—into your bag and hurry to the exit. You arrive at the door frame so quickly, that Mary and Mr Hearst have only raised from their seats, and you even have the nerve to pretend that you don't hear your name called. 

You open the door and, although no one can say that you are running, your every step is an escape from a certain professor and his classroom. You should keep your joy in books and distancing yourself from Mr Moriarty is the first step to achieving that.

…

Your room. Only now, as you're sitting down on your bed, you begin to analyse your behaviour. You can feel your heart pounding hard, and not just because of your “run”.

Your eyes tear up over again at the memory of your last lecture, and you sink back onto your pillows.

“It's so foolish,” you think. You can't understand why the sight of Mary standing next to William had put you so off balance. Was it because of your naive enchantment? Or was it simply your imagination putting the two of them in the place of characters from a popular novella?

You’re being unfair to Mary right now. The guilt will eat you fully if you ever begin to be rude to her just because of your unfulfilled fantasy. You groan, burying your face in a cushion. 

Just as you were about to buy the new volume of “Taste of Enchantment” not so long ago, all you want now is to burn every copy of the book that makes you go through a mental breakdown.

...No, even this book, no matter how cheesy, doesn't deserve that.

Someone knocks on the door. The sudden sound makes you tense up, but you get up after the second knock. With a hasty movement, you wipe your watery eyes and adjust the folds of your dress.

“I... I'm coming,” you mutter, praying that your voice won't falter. Before reaching the door, you glance at your reflection in the mirror and bite your lip at the sight of reddened eyes and cheeks, and you believe you make a sad sight.

After opening the door, the person in front of you surprises you: Mr Hearts, the kind soul who had spent the last moments of class with you. He’s not too tall a young man with dark hair and a gentle face. His cheeks look smooth and squeezable and are slightly flushed, maybe from the embarrassment that comes from the indecency of a man visiting a woman’s room alone. 

His laugh is a little awkward as he holds up the loose sheets of paper he has brought with him. “I sincerely apologize for the disturbance, Miss [Name], but... You left some of your notes behind, after leaving so quickly and... They might be important.”

You press your lips into a timid smile. A new wave of embarrassment washes over you at the memory of your behaviour. You feel stupid, knowing that this man took his time to find your room and return your notes, because of… you.

“Oh... Thank you kindly,” you smile shyly, taking the papers from his hands. “Would you like to come in for something to drink?” You invite him uncertainly and move away from the door, but Mr Hearts stops you. 

“There is no need, but I appreciate the offer. I came here unannounced, and I believe you might need some space today,” the student smiles a little more confidently, and you notice how charming he looks with such an expression. He must be popular with women.

“Then please let me repay you with a cup of tea someday,” you say. “I feel indebted to you.”

He chuckles. “Alright, lovely comrade in arms of trigonometry.”

“…That’s a long nickname.”

“Then, is ‘lovely comrade’ alright?” He offers, but he isn’t suave in these kinds of talks and you know his throat is going dry. You know the pain of this fellow introvert.

“…My name is enough.”

“Just your name?”

You huff at the way he squints his eyes and burst out in a friendly chuckle. “If you insist.”

“In that case, I would like to be called by just a name too. I’m August Hearst.”

“Thank you, Mr August. Oh, and since you are here...” You open one of the drawers and take out a white handkerchief which roses you have embroidered by hand. “I would like you to keep it... As in exchange for your support in class and your handkerchief.”

You hand him the handkerchief and have to push it aggressively into his hands before he finally accepts it.

Chapter III

August Hearst is a delightful gentleman.

You come to this conclusion in the next several days filled with shared classes. He's been taking the seat next to you whenever possible, greeted you every day with an amiable word and even a kinder smile, and tried to accompany you at each dinner.

Your dream of William Moriarty and the secret romance have been slowly distancing itself, when you were with August. Now you know that all the things that happened in your head were... too surreal to come to this reality. Out of your reach.

If you've learned anything from your romance books, it would be the obligation to back out in the name of others' happiness. And the main character in this story might be Mary.

You smile unconvincingly to yourself.

“[Name],” your attention returns to August again, who just finished tucking his books into his bag and is ready to go. He puts apologies in his mouth when he informs you that he isn't able to walk you back to the dorm today. “I'm sorry about that, [Name], but I promised someone...”

“Have no worry, August,” you interrupt him gently, getting up from your seat. You walked through the oaken door of the literature hall, where, for the last hour and a half, thirty students experienced the torment of detailed interpretation of ancient texts. No one knew there why have they chosen this subject to have scheduled obligatory amount of hours. You squeeze the textbooks closer to your chest. “I was going to excuse myself as well and check something in a library...”

Your companion gives you a nod and visible relief brightens his face. “You take the weight off my heart”.

The farewells exchanged, Mr Hearst disappears with his acquaintances from your sight, and you step into a wide, empty corridor, whose marble ornaments reflect late sunlight and some candles spaced around the way.

It isn't a rare sight—after evening classes it isn’t easy to find any students, who would still want to be in the building after a dozen (or so) hours of focused learning.

You are not here to learn more though. You are walking to get to your favourite entertainment, the world of fictional romance. The books are expensive, and getting your hands on many of them by the privilege of being a student here is something of your guilty pleasure, you wouldn't admit to Mr Hearst. 

You won't tell him right away, no. You don’t want him to see how almost the only genre you read is romance. If he finds out, he might think you have too rigoristic standards and that isn't true (or, you hope so). It certainly wouldn't encourage him to make a move if he is interested in you...

…

...Is he interested in you?

…

The library, as you expected, is empty.

You relax immediately. In front of you stand many bookcases filled with stories that only waited for someone who will get enchanted by a pretty cover and gorgeously scribbled titles. Your hands ache to get themselves to work and find another masterpiece.

You keep a slow pace as you walk between racks and read the catchy titles. Sometimes you take a book from its place to leaf through pages, guessing if it's interesting enough to take it back to your dorm by the lines that catch your eye.

Your eyes dart upwards and you find yourself staring at your favourite series and its newest volume, whose charm probably wouldn't understand even your favourite Mr Hearst.

The book you’ve been looking for stands maliciously high.

You don't know what kind of devil was climbing these shelves, but he had a ladder and set another volume higher than your hands could reach. The entire weight of your body falls on the toes of your feet, on which you stand to be taller, closer. It's not enough to reach the shelf. 

Yet you manage to get it. 

You feel a passive touch on your back, but your attention is sabotaged by a hand above you that grabs the book. You turn around quickly, and the rack next to you helps you to remain balanced.

“Is everything alright, miss [Name]?” Asks a familiar voice of the texture of honey and chocolate. “I thought you might need a helping hand.”

Professor William James Moriarty.

Your eyes met with the shiny crimson of your professor. It's your favourite shade of red, but you can't help but think that they are a bit darker than you remember as if they're covered with a cloud of smoke or heavy emotions.

The book is still in his hands when you greet him.

“Professor Moriarty, good evening...!” You say, your curtsy bow looks and feels stiffer than you would want it to. 

“I wasn't expecting anyone here at this hour,” he admits, smiling gently. He looks around the library. “Is Mr Hearst not with you?”

You shake your head. “No,” and add curiously: “Shall I go find him?”

“It won't be necessary. It's nothing urgent,” William assures you, taking a step back from you. The light rose aroma doesn’t leave you though. Was he that close to you if you could recognize such a delicate scent? “To say the truth, I am a little jealous.”

You get choked by a surprise.

“Je... Jealous? You, professor?” And another unsaid question: “Why?”

William's polite laugh rings in your ears.

“Of course. Miss [Name], it's very inappropriate for me to tell this to such a charismatic person as yourself, but I feel a bit lonely, if I dare to say, without your attention in my classes.”

“Ah,” I should've paid more attention to the classes... Are my grades that bad? “I'm sorry. I will focus more on my studies.”

“Let me rephrase this,” he corrects himself immediately as if he could find the doubts just by looking at you. “I would like to request your valued company more often. I found myself dissatisfied we couldn't find time to share a discussion on literature. And there comes an invitation: would you care to join me for a cup of tea if you could spare me an hour of your time?”

You gape at him.

What??

You can feel your body growing warmer and slowly breaking down, like an overheated machine. Your legs are going to give out, even though you want to fly with the butterflies in your stomach. That feeling has taken your ability to say even one word, so you just nod, hoping that this motion will express all of your excitement in a very polite manner.

William gets closer to you. He stands close enough to cover up your whole vision.

You think about moving away, but the back of your shoe is already touching the bookcase behind and your shoulders almost lean on the wall of books. William's hand reaches for the book next to your head, closing you in a half-embrace that limits your movements and the will to escape.

You can still turn around. Or start to scream if you want to get out of here. But...

William cups your cheek and tilts your head enough to have you looking into his eyes. You could see him clearly and be well aware of his gaze that wanders on your face with delight and some kind of excitement, although he keeps the gentleman's shtick that is always expected from every nobleman or professor.

But your observing time has ended, as you feel something on your lips.

The cover of the volume you were trying to reach before is pressed to your mouth. William is still looking at you with warmth, but he's... closer. You can't see his face anymore, mostly hidden by the book.

Your lips are being separated only by the cover and two hundred sheets of paper.

You hear a whisper against the other side of the book that you can’t catch the words, but it’s meaningless—you cannot focus on the same voice you have listened to for hours, relishing the opportunity to get to know such a wonderful voice.

You feel the cover pressed against your lips stay there for a moment, and then encounter the disappointment that William has moved away from you, although he still holds all of your attention.

...A kiss? Was it an indirect kiss? Was it just your illusion, a daydream, even though the untouchable evidence indicates otherwise? Are you going crazy?

You no longer have any perception in your fingers as William gently places the volume in your hands. With a kiss planted on the back of your hand, he bids you farewell. "I wish you a wonderful night, Miss [Name]. Enjoy your reading,” with a smile he leaves the library.

It is long after sunset.

You arrive at your room with a foggy mind.

You don’t open the book, which you set down carefully on the bedside table, although every glance you cast at it makes you shudder.

After two hours you fall asleep. Mary hasn't returned to her room for the night.

...

You wake up abruptly, finding the alarm clock ringing too loud.

Your cheeks burn red as you look around the room and glance at the book next to the bed, feeling your face heat up even more.

You walk briskly to the bathroom to get ready for today's class. You cast a glance at your roommate's bedspread. It is in the same condition as yesterday—a black dress and an ironed shirt lie on a tidy beige bed. The history textbook doesn't seem to have been touched and the box of new slippers Mary had been excited about recently hasn't even been opened.

“She didn't come back for the night...?” It is nothing new, yet for some reason, you feel a pang of uneasiness. You shake your head. She probably fell asleep at someone’s else house. Nevertheless, it’s painful to wake up alone in the room you should be sharing with someone else.

You glance at a book and put a hand on its cover. Somehow, the hope pours into you like a warm honey.

…

“You seem to be in a good mood today, [Name],” Mr Hearst smiles at you, sitting opposite you with his plate of food.

“Is that so? I just feel… lucky today.”

“I wish I had your happiness today. Give me some, please.”

“It’s mine,” you laugh, and he squints his eyes at you in a playful annoyance. His smile looks a little strained, so you decide to ask. “Well then, is something wrong?”

He looks as if he wants to count his misfortunes on his fingers but bites his tongue and sighs. “It’s nothing that critical,” and you imagine another idea came to his mind, but before he says it, Professor William comes to your table.

“I apologize for the interruption,” he says in a worried voice that suggests that something is wrong, “but could I have a word with Miss [Name]? It's an urgent matter.”

“Is something wrong, Professor...?” You throw an apologetic glance at August and move away from the table. Could it be that he wanted to bring up the subject of the previous meeting...? Well, you have agreed to have tea together, but in your spirit, you hope he won't ask for it yet. You wanted to prepare for it... Mentally. Perhaps even arrange a few false scenarios in your head, just in case, as it sometimes enhances your courage.

However, it is not what William had in mind.

“Have you seen Miss Hale? She didn't turn up for our last class, although she promised me personally that she would.”

“Mary...?” You ponder, and the sting of uneasiness from the morning returns to poke your heart. “She didn't come back last night... Maybe she stayed with, um, her friends, but I haven't spoken to her. We've been passing each other a lot lately...”

Within another hour you land in William James Moriarty's temporary office, nervously clutching your skirt and stewing in an atmosphere of concern.

Mary has disappeared.

You don’t yet know if something was going on with her, but the general confusion has sensitised your nerves.

“Here, tea,” a cup of Earl Grey appeared in your hand. It warms your hands. “How are you feeling?”

You take a sip of tea, which is a bit too hot, and gaze into space expectantly. Politeness and etiquette require you to say ‘alright’, but you couldn't think of anything of anything other than your housemate.

You start to regret not talking to her more before as you would have a better idea of what places she goes to.

“Truly...” Your voice cracks. “Truly, no one knows what happened to Mary? She... She was still in class yesterday after all! She was asking me for notes for a test, and.... and now nobody knows where she is.”

William shakes his head and takes the cup from your hands before your grip loosens. He stands at the side of the sofa you are sitting on and leans towards you.

“I won’t make empty promises that everything will be alright,” he says, not taking his eyes off yours, “but you must believe that I will do everything in my power to get Miss Hale back to the dorm in a safe condition.”

You nod gratefully but awkwardly.

“Thank you very much, Professor Moriarty.”

“There is yet another matter we need to discuss. Miss [Name], it would be very dangerous for you to be alone at a time like this. We don’t yet know the cause of Miss Hale's disappearance, so there would be no one there to help you,” you bite your lip so as not to interrupt him and tell him that Mary was not much of a help anyway, “in case of an accident....”

“Will I be moved to somewhere else, then?”

“As all the rooms are occupied and the two other female students cannot be separated either (We wouldn't want to leave either of them alone, would we? That would defeat the purpose). I made a proposal to the management, which will only be executed with your permission.”

You look at him curiously.

“A proposal?”

William smiles.

“You will move into my property... Until the matter resolves.”

CHAPTER IV

You aren’t sure how he did it, but everything has gone just the way he wanted.

Somehow, you got allowed to move to Mr Moriarty. You had never heart of management pulling a move like that—did they really put your safety above the moral principles they were so protective of?—so until you stood before his property, you weren’t fully convinced you were going to move. 

You take a deep breath, however, this doesn’t calm you down at all.

The door in front of you opens before William can reach its handle. Into them appears a man resembling your professor with the same blonde hair colour and remarkable scarlet eyes. Your gaze wanders between William and his likeness.

“This is my younger brother, Louis,” William introduced the man, clearly amused by your confusion.

His brother...!

“Pleased to meet you,” he bows slightly.

“Me too, sir...” you reply with the same curtsy.

“Allow me,” he carefully takes over your luggage. You mouth a "thank you" and he brings over the bags without much difficulty and disappears down the corridor. He is back in a minute and by the speed at which he took care of things you think he is one hell of a butler.

“Before we move on to breakfast, brother William wanted me to show you around the estate,” Louis announces, greeting you with a tray of fresh tea in his hand. You wondered if you were being treated too well here. “There's no need to worry. It will be a short trip.”

“Alright,” you nod and, after finding that the tea is not that hot, take a sip of it. A pleasant warmth hugged you from the inside. “This is such a delicious tea...”

Louis smiles because William asked him to be very kind to you.

...Although he still feels that no one is worthy of so much attention from his brother.

…

“This is a library,” the door creaks open and another wonder of the world reveals itself to your eyes. It’s much smaller than the library at the university, but it seems in spotless condition and has more novels and math books. There are maps, history books and psychological documents too. You ignore the staccato in your chest. “Miss [Name], I heard you like books.”

“Ah-!” You look at him surprised. “I do indeed love them. Did you hear about it from Professor William?”

“Yes,” he replies, and the indifference in his voice slowly begins to break. “Brother William said the books brought you closer together or so.”

Well, books were the reason why you thought about Professor Moriarty so often. He was well-read, so you had insightful chit-chats about the literature.

The scene from the library invades your brain once again. William still hasn’t confronted you about the kiss or anything. The tension that magazined in your muscles in the last few days is almost painful.

Louis grunts quietly. “You are invited to come here whenever you would like to. Brother Wi—"

“Oh, is that Miss [Name]?” Another voice interrupts Louis’ words, and a man in a grey suit seems to rise from under the ground and appear before you. Optimism, elegance and style—a lethal mix for sensitive hearts—emit in his every word and movement, and you can immediately tell that the visitor has a much more sociable life than you. “She is even more lovely than I imagined.”

“Miss [Name] This is James," Louis introduces the blond man, and he makes a curt nod.

He smiles, grasping your hand in an almost theatrical way. “At your service,” he said, winking at you. He then shifted his attention to Louis. “Are you showing her around the mansion?”

Louis nods affirmatively.

“We have only just started, but Brother William asked for a brief recce for Miss [Name].”

“I can gladly do that if you want to,” James offers. “Don't blame me, but, in my opinion, there are too many guys here. And a woman here,” for stressing the term he gets a chastising look from Louis, “is something unheard of! You have to prepare everything for our wonderful breakfast, isn't that right?”

Louis thought for a moment and sighed.

He turns to you. “Miss [Name]. Would you mind if Mr James took care of you for the next twenty minutes? I'm quite needed to prepare the meal.”

“Of course not,” You replied immediately, not wanting to be a burden to Louis, who seemed to take care of the whole household on his own. You pondered why an aristocrat and the brother of a professor decided to take on such a role.

“Lovely,” James stands right next to you, ready to make a quick round around the property. He looks at you with a glint in his eye. “So, shall we start with the garden? It would be worth introducing Fred to you and the atmosphere there is just.... muah,” he kisses his fingertips.

Louis moved in the opposite direction to you. “She is… okay,” he admits to himself in thought as he walks through the main hall to get to the dining room. He isn’t sure if okay is enough to hoard so much of Brother William’s attention. “Ah, that's right. I should tell Moran to not—.“

—Slam!!

With a mighty step comes Moran, who has terrible timing. Although Louis hopes he won’t notice you by the breakfast, the man’s gaze almost automatically goes in your direction as you walk out the door with James.

He manages to catch your curious eye.

A smile stretches his lips.

He approaches you with a wry grin, and you carefully scrutinise him with your eyes. You have to admit that he is handsome, however he seems to be more Mary's type, judging by the looks of the men she’d been hanging out with. You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of your roommate.

As Moran approaches you, James grows instantly gloomier as if his entrance was some kind of a bad joke you can’t help but sight upon hearing. “What do you want?”

“Is there a problem, Bond?” He rolls his eyes.  “I just wanted to say hello,” he turns towards you, and a charming smile appears on his lips. “Sebastian Moran, it's a pleasure to me—"

“Oh, there you are, Miss [Name].” Moran's statement is interrupted by William's voice coming from behind the dark-haired man. You get a feeling that Moran is disliked here, or they are all trying to bully him on purpose. Whether it’s a daily occurrence, but the man only smirks at William’s arrival.

“Professor Moriarty...”

“Breakfast is ready. I would suggest going back inside,” he smiles, sending Sebastian a warning look.

James sighs a little disappointed.

“I will go look for Fred in that case...”

***

The breakfast passes in a pleasant atmosphere, thanks to which you get acquainted with the residents of the mansion. They are very... lively. The meal started with the petty banter exchanged between Moran and Bond and ended with everyone getting busy with their duties. Thanks to them all, you’ve been able to take a little break from the overwhelming reality, for which you were very grateful.

After the tea, you move to the living room at the request of William. You sit down in the armchair opposite him, taking a book borrowed from James. There is a comfortable silence between you, accompanied by the sound of pages being turned. Your body relaxes. You haven't had many opportunities to do so lately, so you appreciate being able to rest at William's side and even hope that such moments could be endless...

“How do you find it here?”

You look up from your book and smile.

“It's lovely here,” you reply without a second thought. There is nothing you would complain about. “And everyone is very nice. I didn't know you, professor, had a brother! Mr Louis is a truly outstanding chef... Any chance he could share the recipe of those tarts that were on the table?”

William chuckles, and you put the book aside. Fictional romances are interesting, but talking to William could draw you in even more. “Of course. Although... I don't know if I'd like it myself.”

You twitch with nervousness.

“O-oh,” you corrected the folds of your skirt, somehow not having the strength to look at William. “If I ask for too much, then, of course—"

“I apologize. I phrased it wrong,” William interrupts you softly, placing his hand gently on your shoulder. Since when did he sit so close to you? Just as you remembered, the floral scent that was in the library strikes you once more. “That's not what I meant.”

He grunts and straightens up, shifting his hand from your shoulder to the palms of your hands.

“The truth is, I have an issue,” he smiles weakly, and your heart leaps with emotion. William trusts you that much to speak freely about his problems? “And it consists in the fact that I have never known what you take interest in,” saying this, he lies. “We’ll certainly give you the recipe but rather as in exchange. I’d love to learn much more about you, so you will be able to count on me even more.”

You choke on your tea.

“I...” Your voice is hoarse and you have no idea how should you respond with your tongue tied with a stir. “I am not sure if it is possible to make me even more dependent on you, Professor. Especially as I am living in your house for the moment, and I’ve been treated with nothing but kindness.”

“Yet I am even more infatuated with you when you’re here,” William whispers.

He dangerously closes the distance. He teases you, moving closer and closer to you more and more slowly and not allowing you to look away from him.

If before, in the school library, you were separated by a book, now there is not one.

…

There is Louis.

Louis knocks on the room and makes you jump away from William to the other end of the sofa. William looks as if he is suppressing a chuckle before turning to his brother.

“Brother William, Miss [Name], the carriage has been prepared,” he says, bowing in a butler manner. “Mr James and Mr Moran are already waiting downstairs.”

“Professor Moriarty, are we going somewhere?”

William takes another sip of tea, seeming completely unmoved in contrast to you. He’s calm yet cannot stop himself from looking up from the brim of his book to watch your reaction.

“We are going to the city, Miss [Name].”

CHAPTER V

London is bustling at this hour. The streets are filled with carriages, finely dressed people stroll along the pavements and children run around them. The image spreading before you had something magical about it, even though it represented the everyday life of the capital's inhabitants.

“Miss [Name]?” William's voice snaps you out of your reverie. You turn an offered arm. You feel shy from the gesture, but you politely accept it.

“...Professor, where are we going?” You ask upon noticing that you are heading to the richer neighbourhoods. Even if someone doesn’t know London very well, the gap between each zone is striking. The buildings here are prettier and you gape at the picturesque area.

“To the tailor,” he says simply, stopping in front of an exclusive-looking shop window.

You freeze in spirit. The displayed gowns are beautiful, richly embellished, and certainly sewn from the highest quality material. You swallow your saliva, glancing uncertainly at Moriarty. You are sure that your money wouldn’t let you afford a little scrape of the fabric, not when it all goes on books. 

“Professor Moriarty... I'm afraid it's not for my budget...” You laughed awkwardly.

“Consider it a gift from me. We don’t know how much time we’ll be lucky to share, yet a fine dress might be required if the guests will visit the mansion.”

“I... I don't know if I can accept your gift...” You hesitate. “I am grateful, but, I… Just can’t. I am not accustomed to such gifts and I won’t be ever able to repay you a gift like that.”

“I insist,” he says but it doesn’t convince you. William sighs. “Then, how about a deal?” He suggests. You perk up and that’s not something you should have done because a lady mustn’t be involved in such atrocious activities. “I will buy you a dress, and as... As compensation of sorts, you will show me your favourite place. You’ve been living not too far away from here, isn’t that so?”

“This is not—"

“This is a very fair exchange, Miss [Name]," he interrupts you, knowing what you wanted to say. You press your lips into a narrow line. It is a bad idea, however, seeing how persistent William is...

“If you insist...”

“I very much insist,” he replies, satisfied with your answer. He then smiles as if he had realised something. “One more thing, Miss [Name]. I think we should address each other by our first names for a while if we don't want to stir up gossip. What will people think when someone discovers that an unmarried woman is staying in a house full of strange men? We should give the impression of family.”

...William could not have cared less about the public opinion of him in this situation.

He almost pushes you through the door into the dressmaker's shop. By the time you blink, you are surrounded by a garland of women. One of them speaks to William, and the other gets a signal to take your measurements. You hold your breath as they do so.

Once everything is written down, you and William could move on.

...

“Professor Moriarty...”

“Once again, [Name]. I believe you can manage to call me by name. Only then will I listen to you.”

“Mr William...”

“Almost there.”

“…William.” You say in a half-hearted voice. Saying his name out loud is much more difficult than in your head. “Are you... Are you sure it's not too much? All those accessories... The outfit alone must cost a fortune.”

“If I am sure of anything, it is that it is all money was well spent.”

“…I don’t concur.”

William smiled at your words and took a sip of ginger tea. You’ve been having an awful lot of tea parties lately. The taste of this brew is no match for the one Louis brewed, but it is certainly one of the local delicacies.

The tea and cake shop you are in is one of the most famous establishments in the city. The upper terrace—where you are now—is open to those with money. It’s not one of the more expensive venues, but certainly one of the more charming.

Despite the hour, there are almost no customers.

“Does the dessert not suit your tastes?” William prompts, looking at your plates.

You both have slices of fresh strawberry tart that was made with a thin, soft sponge cake, a layer of heavy cream and sweet and sour strawberry jam in between.  

A teapot of tea is constantly warmed on a porcelain stand, and cups in floral patterns stand right next to your plates. Vases of freshly squeezed juices and water were placed on the table next to you.

It is the most varied afternoon tea you've been to recently. And everything is delicious.

“No, I like it very much”' you reply, quickly scooping up a larger piece of cake, which you gracefully shove into your mouth that of course you had to choke on it.

“I'm very concerned about your ability to get into trouble,” William says handing you a glass of water that helped you to swallow the cake. 

“It's not that everything I do is that chaotic.” You try to explain, taking a sip of tea, and forgetting that the jug is constantly heated doesn’t help your case.

“Did you burn yourself?” He asks and by the look on his face, you know your actions nor words haven’t convinced him. You croak, a little disappointed in your luck, but more by the burnt tongue. “Please show me the world, it can be more serious.”

“There is- no need for that…”

“That's what ice is good for,” William states as he stands up and walks over to the table next to him. He takes a piece of ice from a small bowl which, although it was meant to cool the juices, seemed perfect to treat your burn.

“I... What should I do about it?” You asked uncertainly. Ice? In the spring? Ah yes, it must have been one of those latest inventions... Refridgerorator? Refrigerator? “Should I... bite it? Eat it?... William...”

“You make it very difficult for me,” he says taking the nearest seat to you and putting an ice into his mouth.

Huh?

…Oh.

Oh! So it was for him! Or maybe, he shows you what you should do with the ice? You will need to grab another cube.

William’s hand finds its way to your cheek, which he turns towards you. You open your mouth to ask if is everything alright.

He’s been waiting for this to move closer to you. His lips fit into yours, and you immediately feel the coolness and heat, the ice and William, bursting in your mouth. The scent of ink, books and roses surrounds you, and a hand on your nape makes sure you won’t pull back from the kiss.

An ice cube gets into your mouth. You forget about the burn, as your lungs begin to run out of air, but you don’t pull away. Neither does William, who even deepens the kiss; his other hand goes to your chair to support himself when he leans into you.

Now you are running out of air.

William moves away, but only because of the footsteps of a client, who likely enjoyed the terrace of the cake shop. William puts a distance between you that would never have suggested that a moment ago.

“The ice should have completely melted by now,” William says softly, and you are struck by how calm he looked. All you can see on his cheeks is a pale blush. “If you want more, don’t hesitate to ask,” he says and looks deadly serious as if he wasn’t teasing you.

You envy him for how composed he looks, as another couple who just got to the floor are throwing you a strange look. You are looking like a mess, for sure.

William crosses his arms. He smiles at you, and you still can’t get a word out. You would like to reproach him for the… act, immediate and rough kiss, but the very fact that you have not yet fled spoke for itself.

“Shall we go to the next place, [Name]?”

You bite the inside of your cheek gently as you nod and grasp his arm. He glances at his watch.

“We still have some time before it starts to get dark... It might be a good time to fulfil the deal on your end, [Name]," he says in a gentle tone.

You sigh softly. Favourite place...? The first thing you think of is the library. It is a too-obvious choice, though. The library at Moriarty’s is also the one you’re currently enamoured with. 

…Well, there is one place you remember liking as a child.

How long has it been since you've been there?

“Alright," you smile at him, taking first steps in an unfamiliar direction. William, wordlessly lets you guide him to the place you’ve spent hours dreaming in and about.

CHAPTER VI

The rusted gate is overgrown with ivy and it’s the first thing that catches William's attention. You open it with a loud creak. The place turned out to be... Slightly further away than you remembered, so the sun has already started to set.

You watch William’s face as you enter the wild gardens. Unruly plants grow on the ground and between the paving stones. The place you decided to take William to is an old botanical garden, which no one has been interested in for a good few years. 

Well, maybe just you.

“So… This is a place I have great memories from,” you introduce the place, spreading your arms a little like a showman.

“It's beautiful here,” he admits, looking around. “It's a surprising view, considering we were in the city centre not so long ago.”

A content blush spreads over your cheeks. This time not from embarrassment—you’ve been feeling bashful too much lately, you think—but from sheer glee. You are happy that the place appeals to William.

“Romance books were almost forbidden in my home when I was so little. I had to borrow ones from the neighbours and sneak out to read here," you confess, directing deeper into the garden.

“Really? I wouldn't expect such rebellious behaviour from you.”.

“Oh, when I was younger I did much worse than sneaking out of the house," you sigh, stepping ahead of him. William raised his eyebrows, and you felt your legs slowly stiffen. Since when did you stop being a quiet introvert? You feel an urge to explain. “Like, um, stealing food from the kitchen and blaming it on the dogs. Or borrowing my mother’s cosmetics... without asking.”

He laughs at that. “You surprise me more and more, Miss [Name].”

You arrive at your favourite part of the garden. It is a gazebo overgrown with wild roses. In the middle of it stay wooden chairs and a table, swathed by moss.

“I remember losing my favourite doll here, but I was afraid to tell my mother about it because she would find out about my sneaking out," you laugh at the memory, one of many that return while wandering.

You notice how William hasn’t said a word for a while. A pang of guilt pierces your heart. “Oh, sorry! The stories of my childhood are not the most interesting ones.”

“They are. Actually...” He lowers his voice and leans to him to hear the words better. He speaks right into your ear. “It would be my pleasure to hear more... I would like to get to know you better [Name].”

“Well...” You look at him from under your lashes, trying to guess his expectations for you. To your misfortune, neither his smile nor his eyes betray anything except his curiosity. “What would to know about me?”

William points to the space between the hedge and the woodland.

“Let’s speak in a more comfortable place.”

He grabs you under the arm, and you rise from the table. William offers to go ahead, pushing back the tall grass that reached his knees.

“Ah!” You hold your breath. You find it hard not to smile as you are flooded with fond memories. “It's been so long since I've been here that I'd almost forgotten...”

A tall oak tree with a gigantic crown casts a shadow over you. Thick ropes are tied around the thick bough. Perhaps they had once held the anchor of a small ship. Britain is, of course, a maritime country and, in a time of an over-revolutionary world, finding miscellaneous materials from machines outside the city is not uncommon.

The ropes, apart from thick knots on a high branch, are neatly tied to a heavy board half a metre above the ground.

“I couldn't have climbed up here on my own when I was younger,” you admit, your eyes searching for the stone you brought from the bushes to elevate yourself onto the swing. “Although I suspect I would still have a problem with that.”

“I'll help you,” William offers, lending you one hand and entwining the other around your waist.

“ It’s a-all right," you protest, but the grip on your body only tightens.

William does not let go.

William tries.

William learns he is not strong enough to lift you that high, even if you were the lightest woman in London.

“Please don't strain yourself...!” You squealed quietly as you tightened your fingers on the ropes. You use all your strength to pull yourself up and finally sit on the board, which squats under your weight.

Your cheeks are hot and visibly red; his because of the sudden exertion, yours through embarrassment… and maybe endearment.

And delight. Few men would tear through the wilderness to put you on the swing.

“I know you're thinking about something untrue," William says. His eyes are now on the same level as yours, and once again you can admire his features from a different perspective.

His hands stay on both sides of you, clamping the ropes. The swing moves under his force, and your legs move further away from the ground.

“So,” William begins again, moving away from you and letting gravity do the work. You start to sway slightly. “What books did you read as a child?”

“Please don't think I've been... uh, like this all along,” you said quickly. William laughs under his breath, and you lower your gaze to the ground. “I mean... I borrowed some books from my neighbours, but I mostly read what was on the shelves in my parents' house.”

“Was it a big house?”.

“Neither big, neither small. It's not comparable to your residence, of course,” you take a moment to think about it. “But every room there is cosy. I still think it is one of the most beautiful places on earth.”

“More than a library?”

“…They are both gorgeous and outstanding.”

“But if you had to choose one?”

“Don’t ask so difficult questions, please,” you say with a chuckle that William shares.

At that moment a rustle comes from the bushes near you. It is a loud sound, as if staged.

By the bushes, at a very respectful and polite distance, stands Fred, his clothes in no way tarnished, although he seems to be coming from a part of the garden where you have to make your way through the low branches.

He nods in greeting you and waits for the permission to speak.

William helps you jump off the swing and, after taking you under his arm, allows Fred to come closer. He looks at him significantly to weigh his words.

You couldn’t catch the boy staring, but you feel his gaze on you when he opens his mouth.

“We found Mary Hale.”

CHAPTER VII

You hurry into the living room of William's residence. There you find Mary, extremely exhausted, wrapped in a blanket in a large armchair, drinking. She looks very different from the last time you saw her. She has dark circles under her eyes, and her face is almost morbidly pale. Mary's clothes have never been so crumpled before.

“Mary...!” You call out and take her into a tight embrace, glad she is back. Safe. You might not be particularly close, but you’ve been still worried about her.

“[Name]...” Mary struggles to reply, not knowing what kind of words she could share with you. She seems not even to have the strength to reciprocate the hug.

You move away from her and tears create in the corners of your eyes. “You’re okay...! “

She smiles uncomfortably.

“We have notified your family and Mr Hearst as you requested,” Louis announces, pouring tea into Mary's cup.

The girl nodded and seemed to want to say something more, but before that, someone burst into the room.

“Mary! Thank God you're here!” August runs up to her, grabbing her shoulders. She sends him a weak smile, but it dies as August turns his attention to you. “Oh, [Name]! How good that you are safe too. I was really worried when you disappeared so suddenly.”

Mary's face clouds over. She's the one who's been through hell the last few days, so why are you the one who's focused attention on...? Are you and August Hearst...?

She sighs, and William can’t help but notice the dissatisfaction in her eyes. The case is not going his way. He had particularly told Mary that they had found her thanks to Mr Hearst, and she—as he predicted—already took an interest in him. He was a good, wealthy, honest man who had “saved” her. 

However, he doesn't seem to notice. His attention is focused on you, which inwardly irritates William. 

“I’m fine, August... I was safe at the professor's side, as you can see,” you smile convincingly. August looks with a dull gaze at William and nods. He turns to Mary.

“What has happened to you Mary...?” August asks. “Suddenly a strange anonymous message came to me....”

“Miss, [Name],” you hear Louis' voice near you. “I need you to leave for a while. This is important information in the investigation, and we believe that knowing what has happened might put you in danger.”

“Is… it really that dangerous?” You ask with disbelief and worry.

“We know you care about Miss Mary, yet…”

“A-alright,” you bow slightly and take your leave.

Whatever the meeting was about, you never found out.

From August, you’ve learned that Mary Hale does not want to return to the family home; she will have the week off from classes and is required to stay in another room.

When asked if this meant you were going back to your dorm, William shook his head.

“Miss Hale needs peace,” he replied, and you slowly concluded that you were too low-energy a person to disturb someone like Mary. William smiled. “Unfortunately, but you can be very distracting. She will have arranged a room especially to look after her.”

…You wonder why you couldn't have had the same privilege when you needed a single room as well.

“Miss [Name],” August calls. He seems a little paler than before and is carefully eyeing William as he speaks. The professor sips his tea calmly. “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me back to the academy tomorrow?”

You smile at him. “Su—"

...And William answers for you. “Unfortunately Mr Hearst, I must ask you to be present fifteen minutes before class starts. Our lessons must go on, and we've accumulated a bit of a backlog over the last week, don’t you think?”

“Professor Moriarty," August’s voice is filled with a firmness you have never heard from him before. You look at him in surprise which escalates when he gently moves closer to you so that the sleeves of his suit lightly brush against the folds of your dress.

You freeze in place, knowing that whichever way you moved you would find yourself too close to August or William. You hold your breath as if its irregular rhythm betrays your tension.

“Professor Moriarty,” August appeals again, feeling that his words are not getting through to William, who stares at him. Although the chill gaze isn’t directed at you, a shiver comes down your spine. “I don't want to sound rude, but shouldn't you, as a supervisor, be concerned with the safe return of Miss Mary Hale to the dormitory?”

William smiles, although the air around him goes cold.

August stands up quickly and, somewhat forcing you to go with the rules of etiquette extends his hand, which you have to accept.

Your hand finds its way under August's arm. You two—although you not so willingly—leave.

How are you going to return to William’s residence now? Maybe you will stay on campus, or should you get a carriage??

“You have no idea how deep an emotion you evoke in me.”

…?

These are August's words when he considers that you have already moved a fair distance away. His eyes twinkle as he says it, a mottled blush sets on his cheeks and Mr Hearst himself seems like a character straight out of a book.

You can even sum the plot to the current point: a new student and a shy student are assigned to a class together; the charismatic boy quickly falls in love with the typical girl, and she slowly opens up just for him... How many times have you read something with a similar trope?

Not that you want to flatter yourself—being the protagonist of such a classic romance is a compliment, after all, right?—But it's so hard not to substitute August for this gentlemanly extrovert who wins girls' hearts with the blink of his eye.

And the fact that he was now in front of you and stammering over the words he was about to say makes you suddenly stop.

“August, I—"

“The situation with Mary made me realize that… If something like that would ever happen to you, I would go insane with worry.”

You fail to think of anything you can say. Well, you always wanted to have a romance, right?

But…

Every place that William ever kissed you, starts to burn.

“I... Unfortunately, but...”

You read so many romances; there was bound to be some rejectionist dialogue in those. What did they sound like?

“I am... I am truly honoured, Mr Hearst, but...”

The knot in your throat makes it difficult to say the words.

August knows what you want to say; his grip on your hand tightens involuntarily, and a small wave of panic floods your body. He’s doing it unconsciously, he’s in pain right now, but… 

You wouldn't be able to break out of his embrace alone.

“Miss [Name].”

Your heads quickly turn towards the voice whose owner turned out to be Louis. He bowed elegantly and, putting his hand to his chest, continued to speak.

“Brother William wanted me to inform you that the carriage is already waiting for you.”

August cuts in.

“I am sorry, but we agreed that Miss [Name] is coming back with me.”

Louis squints at him, unhappy William’s words aren’t accepted just like that.

“The plans have changed. I was told to bring Miss [Name] back.”

You feel on your skin the reluctance with which August releases you from his embrace. Sparks of guilt glitter in his eyes and the corners of his mouth twitch uncontrollably. Immense regret pours over your heart as you realise that you have failed to reject him without hurting him.

...On the other hand, would it ever be possible?

August's gaze did not leave you until you got into the carriage. Only then he shakes himself off and with an abrupt step walks away. You suspect your next encounter will not be very pleasant. You’ve just lost a friend.

“Were you willing to accept his proposal?”

You turn to William, who sits opposite you and waits for your reaction. Your skirt is voluminous enough to hide your shaking heart.

Maybe if Mary hadn't liked August so much and if William James Moriarty hadn't been your teacher, maybe then... No.

You shake your head. “I adore him as a friend.”

“So please don’t feel sorry," he says in a calm voice and with a gentle smile offers comfort. “I will make sure that only friendship remains between you.”

...

...

...?

August Hearst has no idea how he got into this situation.

Ten minutes ago he came to meet Professor Moriarty, who had told him the previous day that he would need to speak to him about the overall backlog.

He never expected William to serve him this kind of lesson.

It's really hard to see what's going on outside when you're locked in a bookcase. Only the gap between the wings of the door allowed him a peek at what was going on inside the hall. He has a view of the blackboard, the very centre of the auditorium and the desks, including his own, where he had sat until a few days ago when he had lectures.

He could feel the thick ribbons rubbing against his wrists and ankles; one of them served to cover his mouth. He can’t say anything or move, but he knows that if he makes too loud a sound, Professor Moriarty, who is fully aware of his presence—as he was the one who has put him here—will kick him out of school.

He didn't even need to warn him personally—the unspoken prohibition hung in the air as soon as William closed the wardrobe.

“William?”

Oh no.

August really doesn’t want to hear your voice. His heart has yet to be rehabilitated. He isn’t sure if a whole year will be enough.

On the other hand, he so badly wants you to come up to that bookcase now. August is convinced that the reason he is in this situation is your relationship with Professor Moriarty. He feels the sting of hatred for the professor, but the gentleness with which William handled you made him unable to consider him inferior in this situation.

“[Name],” Since when does Professor Moriarty's voice sound so warm? August wonders in his mind. “I'm sorry to call you out at such an early hour, but... we're both aware that you also need a repetition of exam material.”

“Of course,” you move towards the chair. William lightly catches your hand in his and brings you closer.

“Today we’ll have a special lesson for a special student,” he replies with amusement at the question in his eyes. “I have tasks already prepared for you. Starting from the beginning...”

You grab a piece of chalk and stand in front of the blackboard. William, along with a file of notes, walks behind your back and saunters in circles.

He dictates the questions. You immediately get to work.

The pattern? You already remember it after you failed the exam six months ago. Since then, it has haunted you even in your dreams.

And calculating it? …Maybe you’ve got a little problem with numbers.

William's drawing of perfect straight strokes presents an irregular triangle with three signed side lengths and its heights.

...The first thing you need to do is to use the cosine theorem. You needed a cosine, an angle.

...

...

...

How were the angles calculated?

“William... Uh... I think I'm hugely deficient… Today,” you sigh, lowering the chalk and stepping away from the blackboard. William casts a glance at the blackboard and then at you. “Could I have a hint...?”

A smile stretches his lips.

“But of course,” he replied, walking up to you. 

You hold your hand out to him, from which he takes the chalk but also brings itself closer. His fingers intertwine with yours, and your face is right next to his. He leans down, his lips brushing your collarbone and inhales your perfume.

Sweet. Could it be a rose?

You’re matching now.

He nibbles on your skin, and you gasp quietly in surprise. Slowly, you begin to get used to his touch, but the moment you start to crave it he lifts his head so that he meets your eyes.

“That is the fee for the hint," he flashes you a charming smile. So now he is demanding something in return for his help? Was that the purpose of this repetition?

“…William!” you say, feeling your body overheating. This was supposed to be a lesson! A repetition! And you are going to leave it with grace and knowledge, even if you had to lie about whether you liked the whole event or not. “T… this is still a public place!”

He doesn’t let you move away. He teases you by closing his behind your back.

“Please don't worry. It's not like anyone can see us.”

You blush even harder and William casts a fleeting glance towards the wardrobe.

“And if one’s watching, let them watch.”

CHAPTER VIII

You sigh, looking out of the window. The weather today is not spoiling anyone, and the constant rain puts you in a nostalgic mood. Just to think that not so long ago you were just an ordinary student with a slightly over-exuberant imagination and an obsession with romance...

And now? The former may not have changed, but you feel as if you have become the main character of the novella you loved so much. Being an ordinary townswoman, you have gained the attention of your handsome professor-aristocrat, as well as from your colleague... It seemed too... unrealistic. Fictional.

Your relationship with William is... Exactly what is it? Neither of you ever uttered "I love you" or proposed a relationship, yet your interactions...

You blush at the memory of the scene an hour ago. Your actions hint at a close relationship, yet deep inside you feel apprehension. What if your unspoken feelings don't last? If you are going to be left alone? Would you be able to survive this? Will your heart be able to bear such a disappointment? 

You shake your head, returning your gaze to the notebook. This is not the time for such thoughts, but nevertheless, your hands tightened on the material of your skirt. You take a deep breath and try to focus on the rest of the lecture.

"William is truly amazing, you think as you watch him. Not only does he teach maths at university, he also helps Mary and you. Your gazes cross for a moment and you reflexively look at your notebook, but there are just minutes left before the end of the class.

William announces the end and the students start to pack their things into their bags. 

“Miss [Name],” you hear him after everyone else exits the class. You turned around, looking warmly at William. “I would like to talk to you today about something very important to me.”

***

You are unable to find out where William is leading you. He dismisses your every question like a politician, but in return for not answering, he places a kiss on your finger joints. You don’t break out of his embrace or even comment on it, even when you get into the carriage and his hand is still clamped on yours.

“Aren't you cold?” He asks, looking at the overcast sky. The sun has hidden behind the rain-threatening clouds after you got into the carriage. The wheels rattle against the stones even faster. He wants to hide in some inn as soon as possible, but he cannot ignore the aristocrat's wish or his money.

You shake your head at William's question. You are warm.

Your vehicle doesn’t stop until forty minutes later, under the old church. It is tall and built of heavy stone. The grey sky gives it an underwhelming atmosphere, but the beautiful buildings and decorations that lasted for many years reinforce your belief that it had once been a majestic and beautiful building. It still has its charm and solemnity in its appearance, but you can’t imagine anyone choosing it over the local cathedrals.

William pushes open the massive wooden door. They opened with a quiet squeak and immediately ushered you into the damper, cooler and quieter air. The raindrops were already almost inaudible compared to the sound of your footsteps.

He leads you to the confessional; he doesn’t even glance towards the altar illuminated by flashes of lightning, or towards the pews, the wood of which was indeed soaked with water. They are dark and smell of earth and the weeds that grow around them.

He seats you where a confessor would normally sit. You protest silently, but William proves to have a better understanding of human physics, for he does not use much force, but still seats you deep inside the confessional. You don’t even dare to flinch and look anxiously at the door as if someone is about to reprimand you for your behaviour.

“May He be praised.”

William walks across to the kneeler. He crosses himself without saying anything and leans towards the grating of the confessional. You are sure he could feel your gaze on him, even though you try to avert it from him. Apparently, he doesn’t mind, and just demands your attention, because he nods as if agreeing to whatever you are going to do now.

“I know the text for the confession, but it can't look like that now,” he says rather loudly, not like a repentant man who is supposed to confess his sins. “I am not looking for forgiveness here. I am not looking for repentance, although perhaps you, [Name], could be my path to purification. I... came here to share my sins with you, because I love you dearly,” your heart skips a beat, “but in order to keep you in my life, I need you to let you get to every part of it. I will keep you safe, of course, but I must make you aware of something.”

You nod but are too nervous to interrupt him. It is a gesture so subtle as to be almost imperceptible, but William notices it. He goes on:

“I am.... a person who pursues an objective regardless of the means, as long as someone close to me is not involved. I do this by means of a certain service of a crime consultant and I clear the world of fake people.”

Here he looks at you. You stare at him as if under the spell, but you don’t really know how to answer him.

“This morning,” he continues, “certain aristocrat was murdered... I believe you already know the news, “he says because your eyes glaze over in recognition. “I would not kill an innocent man, [Name]. That man was notorious on the black market. He had four murders of girls as young as twelve or thirteen. They died in torture, all because of him. Did he deserve to live after all of that?”

You keep silent. You feel a huge lump in your throat, and you can’t think of anything you could say. Tears of unhappiness and shock run down your cheeks. Obviously, the person you had to love was a serial killer, just like in the books.

“Did you...” You whisper out, trying to not let yourself sob. “...They... The rest... Louis, Fred... Moran... James... They all...?”

William puts his hand to the grating of the confessional as if he has forgotten that a wall separates you and he cannot wipe away your tears.

“They are all involved,” William confirms. “I want them to have a better world. I want them to... live in it, and be fulfilled in it. And the same I wish for you. Especially you.”

“...And what... what about you?” - You ask, catching a certain nostalgia in his voice. Nonetheless, you are already becoming well acquainted with William's tones, having spent a lot of time listening to every tone of his voice with relish.

“I don't know.”

Here he hesitates, for the first time in a long while since arriving at the church.

“But... Now, I know that I will do everything to make you live in this world,” he said. “Together with me.”

He got up from his kneeler and approached you. This time he doesn’t kneel but bows his head as he pulls a black box from the deep pocket of his coat. He opens it gently and on the velvet cushion shows an elegant, large ruby set into a silver ring. Its colour immediately makes you think of William's eyes.

Now that you stare at it, it reminds you of the colour of the blood.

“This ring is my being, my promises, my future,” he says, and the stone glows scarlet as if to confirm his words. “My name. If you accept it... I will consider that you accept me and my sins.”

You don’t immediately raise your hand. You would have done so just twenty minutes ago when you were still in the vehicle and you were happily lurching to William's side, resting your head on his shoulder. Now it isn’t just your maths teacher standing in front of you.

Now there is a Napoleon of Crime, one of the worst criminals in London. Your heart is awfully heavy, but you know that this is what a secret of such importance should weigh. It hadn't yet crossed your mind that by him sharing this secret, your choices were suddenly limited.

But you raise your hand nonetheless. It stops over the ring. You don’t know now whether the future you had been anticipating will actually be as beautiful as you have dreamed. By taking this ring, you were saying goodbye to your fantasies since you first learned of love.

The ruby is perfect for your finger; it slides in neatly and stays in place.

You tear up at this sight.

“Everything will be fine," William holds you against his chest. His hands continuously stroke your hair, slowly calming your sobs. It takes a long time though, but eventually the touch, his squat silhouette seemed to warm you up in this cold church. Yes, William's gestures were always warm, though his hands were usually cold. “I won't let anything bad happen to you. I will love you always,” and here his voice changed to a whisper. It sounds like a confession for the first time. “I beg you to remember that. Amen.”

CHAPTER IX

You have returned home. (You remember how warm you felt in William's embrace as the carriage wheels clattered against the cobbles on the way back to his estate).

William took his brothers with him to the study to discuss a matter relating to you. (You blushed at Moran’s whistling, having noticed the ring on your finger. Everyone congratulated you, but they didn't look surprised).

James handed you some cosmetics he'd bought in town. (Unrelated to the engagement, but they smelled divine).

You went to bed.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner.

You spent whole days at William's side. You didn't even make it back to university, although William continued to promise that you would be there again in the future.

...

It couldn't have been that long, could it?

Your book, “The Fruit of Infinity”, which you were so engrossed in, was last shelved in your dorm room... how long ago? When was the last time you even had the presence of mind to get a hold of a fictional world once more and get away from the present one? Too many things have been occupying your head.

The first was your wedding.

...

Huh.

When have you agreed to this? When did your parents have time to allow this? When did Louis have time to agree to this? The latter two would fight against the world if you had said anything about a relationship with William at the beginning of your acquaintance, just to keep you from getting married.

When did their resolve soften?

You aren’t going to talk them out of it. You know that everything that has happened to you so far was just a stroke of luck that you had accidentally come across. If only you have chosen a different class, a different major in college… Surely nothing has happened because of your non-existent romance skills.

(Although Moran did offer to teach you a little something if you wanted to flesh out your personality).

(William protested).

You don’t yet know how your life will play out from then on. Is William going to separate you from his plans for the London aristocracy? Keeping you completely unaware will be impossible and that’s why William has revealed his plans to you, but…

“Will's just worried about you,” James says, patting you on the shoulder. He listened intently to your worries, which you have been trying to keep to yourself lately; now that you know how much responsibility rests on the shoulders of everyone in the house, you don’t want to bother them with your silly problems. Bottling your feelings too quickly was breaking you from the inside, and James took you to the gardens as soon as he noticed your first insincere smile. (That's something you'll have to practice more). “The world in revolves is truly brutal. And you, my dear, are very fragile.”

“I don't want to be that fragile," you lowered your head with a slight pout.

“Oh, dearest!” James strokes your head again. You'd noticed that he is in the habit of fixing your hair and you like the childish joy of being cared for like that. “I'll take care of you, alright? Let's give William some more time to enjoy that rosy, adorable you at the wedding. And afterwards, we'll make you quite a weed to fend for yourself and know that people like Moran are low-key!”

You smile slightly. “...I bet you would be an excellent professor on that topic.”

He covers his mouth with his hands and looks at you with pride.

“Is that sarcasm, I hear?” he sighs with delight, taking you in one arm in his embrace. “My dear, I see progress, and in a very good direction.”

…

You guess you won’t mind a family like that.

…

The other thing that pulled you away from the books and the now all too fictional reality was this terrible fear.

Your life will change as soon as you marry William. It is inevitable and knowable, and normally the changes after the wedding are the ones people usually wait for.

You'll have a loved one by your side, plans for your life, and your dream romance with the antagonist (they always have something in them that the main characters lack)... And all of England chasing you.

News of Count Caretling's murder was everywhere. The information about his death is incomplete, always accompanied by a reference to a natural disease that no one had ever known about before. You don’t dare to ask William if he is responsible.

“Dearest,” he told you, sipping his tea. “You can still back out of everything. Just a word of promise that you will not reveal anything about our identity. Most likely, your brothers would force you to move deeper into Europe or to America—your whole family could go with you safely, I promise you. Would that be a more appealing solution?”

He said it quite neutrally. After that, you’ve been frustrated with William, especially as you slowly started to see the tension in the smile and the artificial indifference in those words.

You left his office genuinely angry.

And now you are on your way to America.

...

The theoretical road to America. Or some country in Europe. You haven’t decided yet.

...

You are on your way to travel the world then. With no luggage, no funds, no knowledge of parents, fiancé or friends. In a wedding dress, walking briskly across the seashore knowing there must be a port somewhere. Yes, you're prepared to travel the world.

Your watch indicated that your wedding ceremony would begin in fifteen minutes. You know there have been cases where brides had been far, far too late for their wedding, too engaged in preparing themselves for their special day. If no one has noticed that it's too quiet in your dressing room and they haven't kicked down the door or climbed through the window then you should still have some time.

You can feel your eyes burning, and it’s not because of the sun that shines down on you.

Why are you giving up on your dreams?

Your legs ache and your heart feet heavier with every step. The sand on the beach tries to pull you underground and some part of you wants to let yourself collapse.

You ran away from William James Moriarty because you feared for your life. And not only yours.

If someone stumbles across William's criminal trial and connects the dots to you—would you be able to lie to save your life? Is this more valuable than all those dead? Would you let yourself pretend to be an innocent maiden from a wealthy manor or betray them if you gave anyone a wrong impression? If you left this world in the name of William’s ideals, would your family be punished as well?

You always thought love would help you face anything until you landed in the current situation.

You aren’t able to admit it to William, although in your head you are putting together scenarios of your explanation should he decide to catch up with you.

When he decides to catch up with you.

He appears out of nowhere and you know it must have been due to someone following you. You feel silly with the thought when you thought you had been so clever and discreet in your escape. You have, after all, met Fred and Jack.

William is dressed in a wedding suit; completely black, elegant and unsuited to the beach. You don’t match it either, but as he stands next to you now, you know you suit each other. At least with the clothes.

“So you decided to quit, [Name].”

“...I don't want to put anyone at risk,” you say after a moment, but you struggle to get any words out under William's gaze, which isn’t warm anymore. What were you expecting? “And I also have a selfish reason. William, I won't be able to live a life like you. I— I want to help people, but I don't want to sacrifice my life! Nothing— I haven't achieved anything in my life yet!”

You can’t hold back the tears. They are pouring down your cheeks and you regret like never before in your life that emotions can sway you like that.

William is standing close enough for the hem of your dress to touch the fabric of his trousers, but he does not attempt to deepen the contact.

“My life is inseparable from the death of others,” he whispers, and because the beach is unusually quiet, you hear everything in his voice that you love so much. “You [Name], on the other hand... You remind me of life itself. You are full of it. You can't hide what you feel. You care about each person, and I care about the public well-being. You value everyone and I can’t do that.”

“…You know that's not true,” you say resolutely and with anger in your voice. “William, you put the whole world before yourself. You teach people and want to build things with your own hands. I'm the one who has this selfish desire to have you in every piece... This- I'm the one who messed it all up.”

“Then help me fix the world, if that’s what you want.”

His red eyes are piercing you deeply. Your body fills with a mixture of very different feelings, and William is now allowing you to release them all. You use them up to muster up the courage to say your vows.

“I want you to be mine. And me to be yours. So I can’t give you to the world.”

You grab him by his suit and jerk him towards you. Under the sudden force, he leans over and bumps into you.

You steal a kiss from him.

It stands apart from all the others you have ever shared with him (and those, however, were not too many (in reality. Not in imagination)). It is more violent than all the others because of the sudden desperation. 

And then William regains control. He lifts his head higher, just enough to keep your lips from parting, but now you have to exert some effort to reach him and stand on your toes. 

You have to make up for your running away.

And you can do so by giving your heart, soul and mind entirely to William.

In exchange, you can keep his life to yourself.

EPILOGUE

“Hmm~ So now it's Mrs Moriarty, no?”

You laugh with a fiery blush on your face at this remark.

You’ve been embarrassed since everyone turned towards the huge doors when the bride and groom were a good half hour late for their wedding. Their outfits were in the sand, the bride's make-up was smudged, the groom’s suit stretched, and they both walked down the aisle without any remorse, with a determined stride.

“You are already the subject of many rumours,” comments James, sitting next to William. He adds in a thinner voice and with exaggerated drama, “Such shortcomings in your outfits on your wedding day, they said. And yet they walked in with such superiority as if their tardiness was nothing, they said.”

“It wasn't too bad,” says Moran, disturbed that he can’t light a cigarette in the cab. He grins slightly in William's direction. “But I'm glad this wedding wasn't perfect! Now everyone, we have some top-tier teasing material on William!”

“Finally something he wasn’t a gentleman in," you say.

“The bride who tried to run away from her wedding was also at fault, I think,” William replies, not looking at you but squeezing your hand.

You squeezed it tighter. “A bride who had a very good reason to do so.”

“So the groom shouldn’t have been chasing her?”

“He should have. Now she finally has a purpose. I think the groom should beware of what a wonderful wife she will become.”

“He won’t mind, as his wife is already wonderful.”

Everyone listens to the exchange in silence, or maybe you don’t pay attention to anyone, completely lost in William who lets himself look at you and gets spellbound by you as well. 

Louis sighs, with some kind of relief.

“So brother has finally found his happiness, hm...~” tag: @elvyshiarieko

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Downhill (Preview)

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

cause I went downhill at such steep incline...

Word Count: 2,080

This is a fanfic preview! So feedback and comments are greatly appreciated. Writers always thrive on feedback <3

Warnings: this takes place during Half-Blood Prince - there are mentions of Draco's mission to kill Dumbledore and him being tasked with fixing the Vanishing Cabinet to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, mentions of Draco being forced to become a Death Eater (mostly against his will, with the emotional pressures of 'family duty'); mentions of death/murder in line with the HBP/DH themes; the reader and Draco are engaged - arranged to be married because they are both purebloods (the reader is an orphan and her only living caregiver 'sold' her to the Malfoys to be married to Draco, but her and Draco have grown emotionally close because of this); mentions of dead animals - more specifically a dead bird (the bird that dies in the Vanishing Cabinet); passing mention of Cedric Diggory's death; general emotional angst from Draco's perspective because he is feeling very trapped and hopeless because he feels that he will not be able to complete his mission successfully and he will be killed (and get the reader killed in the process); passing mention of the reader having lived in New York before she met Draco; passing mention of the reader 'wearing' Draco's jacket (over her shoulders, not putting it on, and it specifically says that it doesn't fit her well); there is an argument where Draco takes out his fear/frustration on the reader verbally and he grabs her arm roughly - this is not healthy in a relationship, but they are both trying to function under severe circumstances (also it only happens for a moment and it's not a pattern); mention of Draco being thin/losing weight due to improper eating (from stress); this part does not have smut but the longer/full fic will have smut once it is finished and posted. I believe that's everything for now.

A/N: This fic is titled after the song Downhill by Lincoln, so if you want to know the vibes of the overall fic, definitely listen to that song. It's a very Draco song with the 'if I meant every word that I ever said, you'd probably question the life I have led' - because in his bullying, he probably has just said a lot of harsh things without meaning them. And in this fic, the reader met him after the bulk of his severe childhood bully phase, so she didn't know that he used to be a very outwardly cruel person. I also love the 'I was born into the world on a silken cloud, and I got bored of the world before I hit the ground' - because Draco was born into so so much privilege and he didn't even realize how lucky he was, and now that his privileged position is forcing him to take on a murder and a lot of undue stress, he wants to go back to blissful ignorance. (Basically, it's such a Draco song, and it really really drove home the themes of this fanfic idea for me.) Anyway, I'm really excited about this fic, and I hope you enjoy this preview!

...

Draco brought you to the back of the large room, and you saw that he had already pulled the tarp off the overwhelming tall, ornate Vanishing Cabinet, so the dusty cloth was sitting in the pile at the cabinet’s feet. Without a word, Draco walked up to the cabinet, moving in stiff mechanical motions as he pulled open the doors. You took a few steps closer to get a better look, realising that he was trying to show you whatever was inside - that must be where the primary problem was located. 

You couldn’t hold in the gasp that broke out of your throat when you saw a dead bird sitting in the bottom of the cabinet. 

A bright yellow canary laying against the dark wood, belly up and completely still with its soft feathers rustled, a few of them missing. You had seen very few dead animals in your lifetime. Aside from the occasional New York City pigeon, laying on the sidewalk in a similar fashion after running itself into one of the hyper reflective windows of the tall buildings. You couldn’t even stand to look at those for too long. You still felt the same deep heartache while looking at it. 

“Oh - oh my.” You gaped quietly. 

Draco was entirely surprised when you shouldered him out of the way, letting his ill-fitting borrowed jacket drop off your shoulders onto the dusty ground carelessly as you crouched down carefully in front of him. You then scooped up the small bird in your hands, cradling it gently as though it were entirely precious. 

He thought that seeing the state of things, you might start suggesting spells, telling him ways that he could fix the obvious problem. But no - you were soft-hearted. The true problem hadn’t even occurred to you yet, because you were so caught up on the sight of a dead bird. You were emotional, struck by the shock of an innocent animal having its life prematurely ended. 

Draco envied you quietly for a moment as you sat on your knees in front of the cabinet, looming in his shadow as you held the bird in your hands. He realised that in order for you to be so startled over this, so heartbroken - it must be one of the first times you had been brushed with death. Draco envied that naivety. 

He wished he could rewind to the version of himself from a few years ago. A version that thought not being able to join the Quidditch team because of an age restriction was the worst tragedy in the world. A version that thought he got everything he wanted because he was genuinely deserving of it. Someone who couldn’t see that he was simply a spoiled brat. 

He wished he could go back to a version that hadn’t seen Muggleborns slain in his family’s dining room, begging for mercy where there would be none.  

When he had first seen that bird sitting dead in the cabinet, a still dead body draped in yellow - for a moment, he had been reminded of Cedric Diggory. Someone so undeserving, lifeless before their time. Used up and gone. 

But now, seeing the way you cradled it, fussing over something already dead and unable to benefit from your care - Draco was distinctly reminded of himself, withering and undeserving in your arms. 

“Draco, do - do you think we should bury it?” You asked, the gentle croak of tears in your voice as you considered a pointless funeral for the small dead thing. 

You suddenly rose up to your feet then, walking around Draco to look for something to wrap the poor bird in - some kind of cloth, or perhaps a small box to place it in. 

This caused something inside of him to snap. The way your sweet demeanour ground against his nerves, his worry, his anxiety about everything mounting suddenly as you fussed over something that truly didn’t matter. 

Your good intentions would get you killed. That gentle touch, that willingness to help - it would get you on the wrong end of a Killing Curse one day. (Especially if he didn’t protect you.) 

“It’s not about the bloody bird, woman!” He growled out, entirely frustrated with your delicate ignorance, your lack of seeing the true point. 

Draco turned to you, and grabbed your arm so viciously that your palms jerked and the small, lifeless body dropped onto the floor without a single bit of grace. It dropped against the cold stone so carelessly, as though it were an object that had not once had any life in it at all. You let out another gasp at this, and looked from the dull tuft of yellow feathers at your feet up to Draco’s face. 

“Draco!” You cried out, protesting against his careless nature toward the innocent creature. 

His fingers were gripping your forearm fiercely, blooming small bits of pain - but you didn’t care. You felt a clench in your gut, distinct guilt overwhelming you. You told yourself that his anger was misplaced. You didn’t have words, especially not while he stared you down so coldly. All you could do was stand tall, and stare right back, even while tears formed in your eyes. 

He tightly clenched his jaw. 

You were surprised when he spoke again. 

“How can you be so daft?” He said, almost choking on the words. 

That was when you knew for certain it was misplaced. He had called you brilliant before - it was one of the only things he had said about you that wasn’t sarcastic or backhanded in some effort to deter you. He didn’t think that you were stupid, not one bit. 

“Look, you know if I don’t get this thing working-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before his throat closed around the words, threatening harsh sobs that he was desperate to contain. 

Instead, he turned abruptly, letting go of your arm - now completely uncaring of the misplaced conflict. You felt a wave crash into your chest as you realised it. How could you have been so stupid? 

Of course, he had no care for a small animal. 

It was about what that animal represented. His failure. Death looming over his head. 

The bird had obviously died in the cabinet, which meant that a living thing had yet to survive the transition from Borgin & Burke’s into Hogwarts. If Draco couldn’t fix that problem - if there was some sort of problem when the Death Eaters tried to use the cabinet to get into Hogwarts and one of them died, Draco would be on the line for it. If they couldn’t use the cabinet at all, Draco would be on the line for it. 

They would kill him if he couldn’t get this right. 

Draco moved slowly, putting a hand on each of the cabinet’s doors and closing them. 

Then, for a few long, painstaking moments - neither of you said a thing. 

Your chest ached. You wished that you could find something comforting to tell him. For some reason, you knew that simply telling him ‘it’s going to be okay’ just wasn’t going to cut it. You muddled in the silence and you hated it. 

He stood with his back still turned to you, with his arms outstretched, leaning on the tall, imposing wooden object. It felt like a shadow of death looming over the two of you. His shoulders held nothing but pure tension, even as he used the object for support, and he dropped his head between his spread arms. 

After a few moments of that terrible silence, with you staring at his back, tossing your mind for something helpful to say as you chewed at your own lip - Draco took in a shuddering breath. Though you knew he was trying to hide it: he began quietly sobbing. 

You couldn’t help yourself then. 

It was something you knew he pretended to hate, but you knew what to do next. You stepped forward, over the dead bird, your shoes quietly clacking against the stone - and you settled yourself right up against his back, tucking your body tightly against him in a hug. You nuzzled your face into the tense muscles of his shoulders, and as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and squeezed him tightly, you felt some of the tension melt away as he relaxed into your touch. 

You did worry about how much thinner he felt in your arms than the last time you had done this - obviously, he hadn’t been eating properly. But you didn’t bother to bring it up, not wanting to start another argument. 

Draco felt a grateful warmth spread over him. But he refused to touch you back. At least just yet. 

He kept his hands on the wood of the cabinet, almost like a bold surrender that he wouldn’t give into your softness. He couldn’t. He let out another shuddering sob - a sound he couldn’t contain with the feeling of your warmth at his back. It was something he hated himself for. 

You hushed him gently. And then, miraculously, you found words. 

“We could leave.” You said quietly, turning your head so that your cheek sat parallel with his flesh, muttering the words against the fine silk of his button up shirt. “We could just… run away together. We don’t have to stay here, Draco. We could get to a fireplace and Floo out of here, or-” 

“We can’t.” Draco replied, his voice just as quiet, throttled by tears. “You know that we can’t.” 

You wanted to argue the point more. Obviously, he didn’t hate the idea. He just thought it was illogical. Likely, he thought it was too dangerous. But what was the alternative - possibly being killed anyway? 

“If we leave, they’ll kill my parents because I couldn’t complete my mission.” Draco sniffled quietly. “At the very least, they’ll haul me in and have my head for being a traitor.” 

Draco straightened his stance then, taking his arms off the cabinet. You thought that he might remove your arms from his waist, finally rejecting your touch. But instead, he began tracing fingers from his right hand along the forearm of his left sleeve, almost scratching at it like it was a terrible itch. 

You had been there the day he had gotten the Mark. You had been brought into the room and forced to listen to his screams of pain before you even truly knew what was happening. When you had tried to comfort him about it, he had pushed you off so roughly that you had almost smacked your head into one of the walls, and you knew that he was taking that fear and pain out on you in that terribly misplaced way. 

But that night, when he had been crying, sobbing and running the freshly scorched skin under cool water - he let you run him a bath with soothing soaps and the two of you discussed Shakespeare’s plays (which you were surprised that he had read) while you washed his hair for him. 

“Now that I have the Mark, I can’t run anywhere.” Draco muttered quietly. “I can’t go anywhere I won’t be found.” 

That part had never truly occurred to you before. 

You knew that the Dark Lord used the Dark Mark as a way for his followers to show their loyalty, and as a way for him to summon them or even for them to summon him. And you guessed that Draco having it meant that he could be ‘summoned’ at any time as a part of the loyalty he had so unwillingly pledged. 

Even if he betrayed the Dark Lord morally, mentally, emotionally, and tried to do so physically by running away, as long as his arm was attached, he would still be in service to that horrible man until he and his followers decided otherwise. Especially because you couldn’t imagine Draco wanting to part with his arm anytime soon. 

“We’ll figure something out.” You told him, having little faith in those words yourself. But you knew it was a truth that you had to speak into existence. 

Then you laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, spreading more warmth through him. He clenched his fists at his sides, highly resisting the urge to reach for your hands, but silently hoping that you wouldn’t pull away. 

Draco resented your sense of hope. But these days, it was the only thing keeping him afloat in the chaos seas that his life had become.

...

Remember, if you want to see the full fic when it comes out, make sure to follow my fanfiction blog @sundrop-writes and turn on notifications there!

Also, this fic is going to be a prequel to the fic I have already written - My Bleeding Heart, so if you liked this, definitely check that fic out.

[annabtg]

I have to ask why is the marauders fandom so obsessed with Sirius and his looks? You guys act like he’s this Casanova but there’s no proof of it. Yes, he’s mentioned to be good looking but I’ve met my fair share of pretty boys who turn me off as soon as they open their mouths. Everything around Sirius is always made so sexual… it’s either Wolfstar or Jilypad. It’s like you guys can’t get over this looks and dig deeper into his personality, family history, and his life story. There’s so much material and stories that could be told but everyone focuses on his looks and it’s so condescending. If you guys do tell his story it’s like 20% his story 80% of everyone trying to shag him. I can’t find one story that actually does a great job of telling the brotherhood between the marauders, without turning it into some story of how everyone is obsessed with Sirius’ looks. James and Sirius were brothers in every way but in blood. We don’t know much about Lily and Sirius but with the letter sent she obviously cared enough to reach out to him because James missed his best friend and was having a hard time at the cottage. Remus and Sirius relationship is tragic and isn’t talked about enough. The guy was willing to become an animagus to help him but didn’t trust him enough to think I he was working against the order? Then there’s Peter who is by far the most underrated marauder and fooled them all, and got Sirius sentenced to Azkaban for 12 years. There’s so much more to Sirius then his looks and making up sexual relationships with the marauders. I used to love marauder fandom but the new writers have ruined everything and turned it into stories of everyone wanting to shag Sirius. There’s no plot, no story line, only the whole wizarding world fawning over how gorgeous Sirius is.

My poor dear anon,

What shallow, misguided corners of the fandom have you found yourself into?

I don't know if you found me through my writing or my latest shitpost. Probably the latter, because if you'd spent any time around here, you'd know that Sirius, for me, is so much more than someone to fawn over and shag - he's one of the most intelligent, most loyal, most characters and I'm fascinated by so many more of his facets than his indubitable handsomeness. (I do love to thirst over good artwork of him, but that's not exclusive to him.) I don't really have much tolerance for people who view Sirius as the person you describe and I don't engage with them.

But let's take a look at some definitions before we proceed.

1. The Marauders fandom. These days this is a term that hardly means anything, as it's been liberally adopted by anyone who focuses on any HP character who was alive sometime before Halloween 1981. Wolfstar shippers and Jilypad shippers, for instance, are two different groups with very little overlap, in my experience.

2. Sexualization. Sexualization means to reduce someone to their physical attractiveness and sexual potential and ignore their other qualities and characteristics. It does not mean being in a romantic relationship and/or having sex.

So, anon, I believe one of two things is what's at play here:

Possibility #1: You found yourself in some corner of the fandom that does sexualize Sirius. I don't know where that might be - I think even Wolfstar doesn't do that (it seems to me that they have the opposite problem these days, sexualizing Remus instead!). My main ship is Jily, though, and I find that overall people here have great appreciation for Sirius.

Come to the dark side. We have cookies biscuits, we appreciate Sirius as a friend to James and Lily (oh look, a whole fic fest dedicated to Sirius's friendship with Lily!), and while himbo Casanova Sirius used to be a popular trope in the mid-00s, I haven't seen it in fic since I got back into fandom two years ago.

(Disclaimer: There are always going to be thirsty fics. Prongsfoot, Lilypad and Jilypad, which I delve into, are not devoid of that either. And sometimes you just acknowledge that Sirius is one of the hottest characters in HP and just want to see him in action. Those fics are E-rated and usually pretty easy to avoid, and do not, in my experience, constitute the norm of how Sirius is treated within these fandoms.)

Possibility #2: You just don't like shippy fic at all; you want to read gen instead. That's completely valid, and I understand that completely non-shippy fic is hard to find. Especially with Jily being canon, so if you have to explore Sirius in a canon context there's probably going to at least be a side of Jily - that people always tag, because ships make or break fics for lots of readers, and it's recommended to tag for even minor presence or mention of a ship.

It does seem to me that the Marauders fandom now is more ship-focused than it used to be, I agree with you. I feel like gen fic back then was easier to find. I'd attribute that to a lot of us being older now and more interested in more "adult" situations, where some sort of romance is usually present, compared to the mostly teenaged fandom of 20 years ago that was more concerned with friendship and teenage shenanigans. But there are still people interested in Sirius and his non-romantic relationships with others - like those of us who wrote for Blackevans BFF fest (linked previously) and the people writing for @goodgodfathersiriusblack.

Bottomline: Do you want good quality Sirius content, or do you want Sirius content exactly how you want it? I can help with the first - stick around for posts, fics and recs. For the second, you'll have to be the change you want to see in the world.

[onewomancitadel]

A smattering of general updates:

I played Tears of the Kingdom. I didn't really enjoy it. I understand why it was popular though; I'm just not the demographic for these types of video games anymore. I didn't find it creatively rewarding and after a time I sat there thinking 'I would rather be writing right now', and since then I have learnt that writing is made easier by doing things which are not writing, because it makes me miss it. My dad also doesn't really like it but for some reason has played hundreds of hours in it. I don't know either - I think he will take anything called Zelda at this point.

I spectated the Doctor Who David Tennant Special and watched some clips of the new season. I'm not a fan of RTD, and not a DW fan anymore (not for a long time), but it was an interesting study in how studios try to attract old and new fans.

I read a lot of books, and that lie people tell you about all books being good for you is a lie, because a cyberpunk anthology of short stories made me so angry I got heartburn. I think people who say that are saying so because they wish that they could read a lot, in which case I say, yes I think reading is a gift and we should engage with it, however, sometimes I get so physically angry from something stupid/bad I've read because bad writers exist that it gives me actual pain. I am reading Howl's Moving Castle right now and it's very joyful; I am very surprised by the liberties the animated film took! However so far I do think both experiences are worthwhile, and if you enjoyed the Ghibli film, I very much recommend checking out the original book if you want to revisit that world again. The prose is straightforward but a little whimsical, and Howl is very, very funny. I have laughed aloud a few times.

Well, you know I rewatched Dark, and it's funny that during my exile I said 'this is like if RWBY got the ending it deserves' and then, er, I found out it's not renewed yet, and that's still up in the air, which for the entirety of RWBY I have only had one true moment of doubt of such a thing, and that was a while ago.

On that topic, yes, I still ship Jaune/Cinder, believe Cinder's redemption is likely, etc., although there are some more external concerns I would wager now than before. Before I thought it very possible to do without any commercial influence, and it depends what compromises they do or don't end up making or having already made. My analysis of Jaune's arc in V9 may not hold water as much (e.g. if you lean towards the view there were rewrites to cater to growing the audience, or perhaps it's two ideas married? I'm not sure) so I'm going to think about it more, and there always has been a tension in RWBY between what is being expected/baited and what is foreshadowed/said/actually happens.

I figured out how to write again and what was blocking me, so there's that. To talk about it a bit more, since my break I have worked every single day on writing. My key takeaways are that you need a delicate balance of delusion and self-doubt to get anything done - you don't know you can do something until you actually do it - and every excuse I invented for not writing was not the reason I was not writing. I can write with a migraine beginning to set in on an uncomfortable desk where I can't even rest my elbows properly on the end of a bed with no back support without aircon in the middle of summer before I've even taken my hair out from bedtime plaits in my pyjamas. I didn't even expect to get my fic done right before midnight, actually I was like 'well lol that's not going to happen, I'll write anyway though, fuck New Year's' because I wasn't doing anything, and then I finished and looked at the time and was like ooooh. I actually completed my goal! So I'm very proud of that. Anyway writing is breathing, to me, I go crazy if I don't do it, no matter what it is, and every single piece of nonsense advice of productivity was not helpful, ever, but I did figure it out. Also admittedly I got a fire burning under me again because I found out I was actually right about Raven, in which case I took that as a sign from heaven I was on the right track. One should hope.

I am excited about Dune Part Two, yes, although I am trying to avoid Villeneuve talking about the film because I know all the marketing is basically directed at people who aren't Dune fans, and I have to see it for myself to see what it's worth. I enjoyed the first film, and Villeneuve seems excited to direct Dune Messiah, in which case I am willing to do whatever possible to make that happen. Because that's about as complete a story you're going to get in a major motion picture adaptation and it would be So Fucking Good.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

The fandom is so lucky to have you! We appreciate having you here and all that you contribute to it ❤️❤️

1. What brought you into the fandom?

2. What character(s) do you feel the most connected to and why?

3. Out of all of SJM’s books, which one means the most to you and why?

4. Out of all of the SJM couples (fanon, canon, endgame, etc) which one means the most to you and why?

Keep doing you ❤️

Oooooo! How fun! I am all for some positivity in this fandom and this is so so sweet 🥰

1. What brought you into the fandom?

So I read the ACOTAR series in spring of 2021 after they went viral on TikTok post-ACOSF (yes, I'm one of those people who read it because of TikTok, please don't judge me) and then I made the mistake that summer of trying to engage with the TikTok fandom.... Dark times.... But thankfully, I still had this Tumblr from my previous fandom days, so I came here for more Nessian content and instead found the beautiful Tumblr Nessian Community (tm). I saw there was a Nessian Appreciation Week in September and decided to dip my toe back into fic writing, and now here I am... Still writing fic but for Nessian Appreciation Week 2024

2. What character(s) do you feel the most connected to and why?

Definitely Nesta, my beloved and my wife! It's funny, when I finally got my best friend to start the series, she knew Nesta was my fave going in, and she didn't even make it that far before I got a text from her saying "oh, I get it now. Nesta is you." Like damn read me to filth I guess 😂 yes, I too have Daddy Issues and refuse to talk about my feelings. But I also relate and love Nesta's love for her sisters! Despite the way this fandom tries to say she doesn't or doesn't love them equally or whatever other BS they're always spouting. Like Nesta would commit a murder for Elain and/or Feyre with 0 hesitation, and honestly? I would for my siblings too.

3. Out of all of SJM's books, which one means the most to you and why?

Hmmm.... Tough question. I've only read the ACOTAR series (I DNFed CC, sorry). I guess I'd have to say ACOSF? I will say as much as I shit on that book and the questionable/terrible choices SJM made as a writer in that book, there is a lot of good that I love. I love that we got to see the other side of the coin, to really understand and experience what Nesta was going through, and seeing that on page really did mean a lot to me. I just wish we got more than the two dimensional mess we got from the other POV. Wish we got more actual romance and more actual healing. But alas....

4. Out of all of the SJM couples (fanon, canon, endgame, etc) which one means the most to you and why?

I mean I have to say Nessian, my beloveds. They got me back into writing fics after I hadn't written one since like 2015. But even more than that, without Nessian, I never would have met the lovely people on this app that I get to call genuine friends now. I love our small little corner of the fandom where we try our hardest to mind our business and make Cassian suffer but also hit it aka make him better

[thefudge]

i legit saw people criticizing this season because of the lack of tomgreg and the ammount of tomshiv

i wonder what the diehard tomgreg fans would even want to see at this point. we're in the final act of this tragicomedy and things are looking grim for most of these people. what sort of outcome would make sense for tom & greg at this point? greg has become a bigger asshole than tom and doesn't seem to know it. whatever made tomgreg sort of fun and human and weird has been gutted and laid to waste, and i'd say that's not the writers hating on tomgreg but rather the sad and natural outcome of their corrupt soul-selling pact. for all the dark humor and outlandish jokes the show loves to coat its dialogue in, succession engages with morality very seriously, in that it takes the very old school approach of showing that every action has a moral consequence that will weigh on you, even if you "succeed".

i totally get wanting to read an AU where tom and greg run away together or smth, but you'd have to start it somewhere circa season two. because these two, like many other characters, can't really recover from the trajectory they've been set on. it's fascinating to watch, if painful, yeah.

the situation is similar with tomshiv, but tomshiv seems to thrive much more on pain lol (cuz they are more real and raw than tomgreg, which was never allowed to really develop emotionally). so yeah, you can write the fix-it fic for 4x07 but it doesn't work unless you address and untangle and undo all the choices these characters have made.

[bardic-inspo]

❤️💀 !!

Thank you!! 💜💜💜🥰

[Writer Ask Game]

❤: Tell me a fluffy headcanon you have for (insert au and/or character/ship)

After the events of the game, Naomi and Spawn Astarion do a lot of travelling together. One of the places they go is the Eilistraeean temple where Naomi grew up in the Underdark. They've been together for several months post-Netherbrain at that point. Astarion wants to know more about Naomi's roots, as it occurs to him that he doesn't know nearly as much about her upbringing/background as he'd like to. But also, has an agenda to execute some grand romantic gesture. He wants it to be something special to her, and so he deep dives into trying to learn Seldarine drow customs/traditions, and more about Eilistraee (the dark dancer). Some of Naomi's old friends/acquaintances troll him, while others help.

Naomi loves dancing, and Astarion manages to learn (in secret from her) a dance that's customary for an engagement/proposal. He surprises her one evening with it, and she's simultaneously swooning and an absolute wreck about it (in the best way). And while they don't actually run off and get officially married at that point, or really even refer to each other differently, it cements their bond in a really special way. (Idk if any of this is actually consistent with drow lore, I just made it up).

💀: What scene are you currently most excited to write for (insert au or fic here)

I'm excited to dig into my next chapter of Midnight Chimes, which takes a spin on the "I have drunk" scene where Astarion is drunk off a bear. It's a really fun juxtaposition with Naomi, who is simply having the worst time while Astarion is living it up (in part, because of her and her blood). It will be a turning point scene for them. Astarion offers his shoulder to her, and then some 😉

[antigonewinchester]

speaking of narrative immersion, I've been rewatching some early season SPN eps and it is so much easier to buy into the story & characters than it is while watching later seasons. it's not the only reason, but a lot of it is that I dislike how the writers & creators understand / frame the characters & narrative, and so I can't buy into the story they're telling me / get stuck on the metanarrative level vs. the actual story being told.

the video creator doesn't have a 'solution' to this problem, but what comes to me to start are two answers:

writing fanfic that explores your own take on the narrative. say, the outpouring of fic after the final SPN season / finale and many many people figure out how they would 'fix' the story. even fics that take a darker view on the source material; they're still 'fixing' the story in that they're aligning it with what they see vs. what actually happens on the show.

the other option might be to create your own original stories. you know how the standard story beats are supposed to go? then create your own! take that story beat & twist it; add in some new element; write your own take on it.

obvs point #2 doesn't work for a lot of fandom-esque spaces -- most ppl can't make their own movies or TV show, and some ppl don't want to write something new but engage with the story they already love -- but sometimes I do wonder about focusing so much creative energy towards a story that doesn't immerse you any more. (there's certainly a dark view of pop culture media deliberately creating this dynamic, where fans are unsatisfied & so engage to tell their own stories & and creators then profiting off of that frustration, that makes me a little more cautious as to where I'm putting my own fandom energy.)

[headlineawards]

2023 Headline Award Winners Other Characters

Fiction Awards Other Characters

Best Thing Since Rainbows Award  [Best Gen Fic]

Winner - New team bonding traditions by Impatientseamstress

“I never thought I'd read a Rupert Mannion- centered fic that would leave me feeling good, but Impatientseamstress has managed to create what I had previously deemed impossible. This writer clearly has a love for the canon, as their characterization of everyone from Moe to Ted to the aforementioned slimy villain is absolutely spot-on. They get into Rupert's head and nail that haughty man-of-privilege attitude that makes us love to hate him so much, and the result is a delightful read that truly captures the spirit of what *Ted Lasso* is all about-- even when Richmond is being mean, they're loveable nonetheless. And who doesn't love to see Rupert Mannion get the passive-aggressive comeuppance he deserves?”

Runner-up - proffer to displace by knapp_shappeys

“This story has lovely prose and engaging descriptions which elevates what we get from the original audio format. It takes a relatively small plot point from the canon and fleshes out a backstory full of the reasons and relationships that led to Herc’s decision concerning Zurich. Herc and Linda’s relationship is unique and nuanced. His care for her in her moments of need and the way her ambitions influence his decision is very moving. It’s clear the author has a real love for these characters and also put a lot of effort into being knowledgeable about the airline industry to write this.”

​

Imagine You and Me Award  [Best Romance]

​Winner - The Necromancer by Ryne

“Though told from Nimueh's point of view, this story beautifully captures the turmoil in Uther's heart at the loss of his wife. He forces Nimueh's hand to do his bidding with a brutal rage only a king can command, and yet we're so clearly given the insight into the grief that drives him that it is impossible not to look on him with sympathy. In fewer than two thousand words, we're given despair and hope and despair again written with heartbreaking grace.”

Runner-up - adrift in space, or whatever by timeladyleo

“A beautifully written piece that highlights the relationship between Herc and Carolyn. The right touch of humor as Carolyn teasingly sets Herc up to face his fears under the guise of a visit to a vineyard.” Gold Blend Award  [Best Smut]

Winner - Anatomy 101 by RoselynnThornwood

“This is a really fun and unique premise, dancer Marni learning anatomy from med student Nathan through putting her own body on the line. The action is slow, tantalizing, and dangerous as he slices the body parts she can’t identify correctly, working his way through her bones and muscle groups toward parts she would very much miss if she got it wrong. Though this takes place before the canon you can definitely see an early darkness manifesting in Nathan as we would come to know him, which was entirely let loose when he lost Marni.”

Runner-up - In Anticipation Of by Unsentimentalf

“The pace is slow and uncertain between Herc and Douglas, the power dynamic shifting at a moment’s notice, which lends itself to the payoff being satisfying. You’re never really sure who’s playing who. There is humor throughout while maintaining the sexy nature of the fic, with a side helping of occasional fear from Herc, which is impressive in its own right.”

​The May the Best Man Win Award  (Fan Favorite Other Character Story)

​Winner - New team bonding traditions by Impatientseamstress

​Runner-up The Necromancer by Ryne

Thanks to thenewbuzzwuzz for our prize banners!

[tathrin]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

Friends, if I send you this but you already answered it, please forgive me; now that the icons are gone, I have no idea who has posted what anymore thanks tumblr.

Anyway anon, thank you so much for the chance to talk about some of my favorite stories!

Star Wars VII: The Dark Reborn — this is literally the best thing I have ever written, I love it so much. I could not adore this story more. I genuinely want to get it made into a paperback and just like. hand it to people or stash it in those little free libraries, I don't know. It's the best damn thing. I'm so happy with it, I love it, I can't even articulate how happy this story makes me, seriously. I should really get back to work on the sequel shhhh.

Five Times Gimli Died (And One Time He Didn't) — this is probably my "objectively best" LotR fic, and I love it for that. I also love it because it was a stretch from my usual sort of thing, and I really love it because it pushes my "mortals don't die in Aman unless/until they decide they want to" headcanon, and thus furthers my "Gimleaf Has The Happiest Ending Of Anyone In Middle-earth And That Was On Purpose" agenda. Also I just really love writing from Gimli's POV, he's such a delight. No wonder everyone who meets him adores him.

To Live In Undying Lands — this story is my current fixation. I was really tempted to put the Zombie Story here instead, but ultimately I decided that at this moment, I actually like this one more. It's another one that's a bit of a stretch for me (I don't generally write "ongoing snippets" without an over-arching plot, and I definitely don't often write stuff that's this domestic) but so far it's been really satisfying. I'm worried that I'm on the brink of running out of steam on it, but I hope I'm not because I really do adore both the concept and the results, and I have a lot more ideas I'd like to do for it if I can keep the motivation/focus engaged!

Twin Faces Of Destruction — I love Boba Fett. I love Boba Fett. The original flavor, "he's no good to me dead," "this is my face," "as you wish" cold heartless hunter Boba Fett, the one who never takes off his helmet and has no interest in anything beyond the job and will walk straight through an Imperial Garrison to get his quarry if he has to. The one who donates money to orphanages (it's canon! wtf!!!). The one who will betray every single partner he's ever had, but who still showed-up to be best man at Dengar's wedding because he doesn't go back on a deal. The one who has literally one moral code, and that is "do the job." No matter what that means. And the honorable helmetless dad-guy we got in the tv show is...not that. Frankly, neither is a lot of the post-AOTC stuff with him. But one of the joys of a bounty hunter who never shows his face and has a lots of other folks out there who have that same face is that it's real easy to find ways to reconcile things like that...and even pay homage to canon (Ailyn Vel! Jodo Kast! Spar/Alpha-Ø2!) in the doing. So this story? This story is just fucking fun.

The Story of Kijimi — there's honestly not much to this one, but I like it more than it probably merits just because I really love paving canon plot-holes, and the "we've made Poe a Spice Smuggler Out Of Nowhere Even Though It Contradicts Our Own Existing Canon Because He's Clearly The Han Solo Of The New Trio, Because We're Stupid And Don't Know How Star Wars Works!" bullshit from TROS is just...so fucking soul-killing and racist and unnecessary. So here's the real story behind that. You're welcome.

[flameohotwife]

4, 5, and 17 for deep fic writer asks!

Thanks for the ask, peaches!! Hmmmm...

4. what fic of your own do you read for comfort? Confession, I've already re-read Unspoken Undeniable (rated T) for comfort. Well, actually it was when I was going through responding to comments that I had fallen behind on, but it gave me so much kilig even though I was the one that wrote it so I decided to just re-read it. I have a feeling it's one I will come back to again in the future when I need that pick-me-up.

5. what fic of your own won't you read? There isn't really one that I won't read out of principle or dislike or anything. But I don't tend to re-read the fics I've written for prompts for whatever reason (this doesn't include event week prompts, but ones when I write quickly just to fulfill something, like the fluff prompts I did a while back and the prompts I asked for just now that I'm slowly getting through and writing). Probably because I wrote them so quickly and barely edited them, so they don't feel as polished to me and everything feels flat.

17. What’s the best engagement/interaction/feedback you’ve received from someone who’s read your work? Oh wow this is hard! I remember re-reading @coyotelemon and @imreallyhereforkataang's comments on Reborn in New Love (rated E) over and over again when I first posted that fic. They gave me a much-needed boost when I was still so new to fic-writing. This was also before coyote and I became friends outside of brief interactions in the ffn/ao3 world, so it was definitely the start of a beautiful fandom friendship! Recently though, this comment from @benwvatt on Brightest in the Dark (rated E--the epilogue to Unspoken, Undeniable) was so encouraging, especially in a time when engagement in the kataang fandom seems to be dropping:

I think I want to print out this story, figure out the messy science of bookbinding, and press these words into a golden tome that looks like a really fancy Shakespearean play on the outside, or perhaps a bible, but it's actually BETTER because it's kataang.

Thanks for playing the deep fic writer ask game, friend!!!

[today-only-happens-once]

Fanfic writer stats

@ironwoman359 posted her answers to some questions, and I've been missing being a fic writer, so I thought I'd take a crack at them! 1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Sticking exclusively to AO3 (not tumblr, where most of my supernatural and Sanders Sides fics reside; and not fanfic, where a host of others reside as well) then I've got only 32. But like I said: I've got a whole lot more than that floating around the internet.

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

Just on AO3, it's 183,417.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Ever? Like 20 I think? Mysterious Benedict Society, Suite Life on Deck, The Outsiders, Suits, MCU, RWBY, Mass Effect, Suits, Phineas and Ferb, Iron Fey, Supernatural, Stranger Things, Luca, Sanders Sides, Percy Jackson, Avatar the Last Airbender, Witcher, Tangled, the Dragon Prince

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5) in ways that can't be said (882 kudos) geraskier witcher fic. Geralt lives in a very dark and violent world. Good things are few and far between. He doesn't know what it means, really, to be in love. So when he falls in love with Jaskier, it happens slowly. Gradually. Reluctantly. Or, 10 moments where Geralt falls a little more in love with the bard no matter how much it scares him. (sequel to the next one listed actually but can be read independently)

4) it's what my heart just yearns to say (996 kudos) geraskier witcher fic. Jaskier’s a romantic at heart. So you would think he falls in love at first sight. But... when he falls in love with Geralt, he falls very, very slowly. Or, ten moments where Jaskier falls a little bit more in love with the Witcher, until he's really not sure when it started in the first place.

3) the driftwood and the rift (1218 kudos): geraskier witcher fic. It's been months since the mountain, and Geralt hasn't spoken to or seen Jaskier since. He certainly hadn't expected to run into the bard like this--fending him off in the woods, trying desperately to help him break out of the spell that has him slashing at Geralt's throat before one of them ends up dead.

2) out of focus (1821 kudos): ATLA fic. The actions of a Fire Nation admiral during a meeting causes some problems for Sokka. The words of that admiral causes some problems for Zuko. They try to take care of each other. [“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?” Zuko freezes, the rag half-out of the bowl and his other hand still bracing Sokka’s (not quite holding it… far too gentle to be holding it). “What—uh. I, uh.” Zuko stops. Takes a breath. Tries again. He still doesn’t look up at Sokka. “When I was younger, I spoke out at a meeting.”]

clarity (2492 kudos): ATLA fic. Hakoda had been hearing rumors about the Fire Lord's son for years. That doesn't mean he is ready when the truth finally comes to light... especially when the truth only confirms the worst. Companion piece to "out of focus". Hakoda's perspective on those events.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I just like the engagement with people who like my writing, because I work hard on it! I don't always get to them, though...

6. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I try to not write anything with particularly angsty endings. Almost certainly Man of Steel for the Outsiders is the fic I've written that I'm still comfortable having up and posted. It ends with Darry getting the news that Sodapop died in Vietnam, so.... that's pretty sad.

7. Do you ever write crossovers?

Never in earnest. I drummed up ideas and headcanons about a PJO/MCU Peter Parker/Danny Phantom/Hiccup are all college roommates.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I got hate on my very first fic once. It's not even still posted to the interwebs. I was 12. My big sister came to my defense.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope. No shade or hate though.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge?

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Also nope! I have some hesitation on this front... Never say never! I just don't know that co-writing is the thing for me.

12. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I'm really, really partial to Geraskier even though I do not believe it will ever be canon. Tangled's New Dream will also always have a peice of my heart.

13. What's the first fandom you wrote for?

Mysterious Benedict Society.

14. What's your favorite fic you've written?

I think probably some of my best writing is in the Coming Home series (the two witcher companion pieces described above)

15. Do you have a WIP that still haunts you?

Not really. I certainly have abandoned fics. There was a RWBY one that showed promise and people enjoyed, but I had to step away from for personal reasons, and I've since left the fandom. There's an Outsiders one that I abanonded because I fell out of the fandom. A Sanders Sides one that I lost steam on.... it happens!

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

2022 Writerly Year Review

I was tagged for this by @frozen-fountain; I in turn tag the amazing @argyleheir, @bluecatwriter, @mikaharuka, @alpaca-clouds and @bleepbloopbotz.

Total number of completed works: 55, including the completion of Death's Sunrise (Was this really in 2022? It feels like it's been 84 years...)

Total number of WIPs worked on this year: Oof. Maybe like 5?

WIPs neglected this year: The same 5. Motivation to work on them honestly comes and goes in waves.

Fandoms I've written in: Anything Dracula-related, In the Heart of the Sea/Moby Dick, The Sandman, Interview with a Vampire.

Total word count: Published? Maybe like 120k? Chapters 42-67 of DS have been published in 2022, but I didn't note down the exact number, plus 26k and 10k for the Whumptober challenges. Written in total? Maybe 170-200k.

Looking back, did you write more than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you expected? More in terms of individual works (changing from just the one hella long fic (my first ever fic at all!) in 2021, to like 50 oneshots), rather than word count, but I am still happy with my results!

Did you take any writing risks this year? I always take writing risks lmao. The long fic was a risk - what if I am not good enough, what it it isn't well recieved, what if I don't pull through with it, what if the end doesn't pay off? But also the dark topics and whump I write at times. Speaking of whump; Trying for the Completionist title for Whumptober and Winter Whumperland was a risk, as well as trying to nail down 850 words every time.

Do you have any goals for the new year? Just the usual. Whatever I start posting (long fic, wip etc.), I finish. If I manage that, I'll be happy.

Biggest disappointment? Not getting through with the DS re-edit/re-write. Not even close.

Biggest surprise? The amazing feedback I got on my Whumptober series as well as the last few chapters of DS! Oh, and @argyleheir's surprise gift fic for my birthday and the loads of beautiful, stunning fanart I got from @mitsukatsu! (Thank you again, my dears, love you 🖤)

Most popular story of the year? Death's Sunrise will be properly my top 1 hit for another while. Apart from that, the Sandman oneshots did pretty well!

What's your own favorite story of the year? DS will always have a certain special place in my heart. But I am also currently really burning for the Dracula x Interview with the Vampire crossover The Gathered Night... which I started like 2 days before the end of the year, but still.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Honestly, I cannot really complain. I'd love to get more feedback on the Harkula Tumblr Prompts collection Touch as Soft as Ice, just to know if the promptees actually liked them. But apart from that, I have been usually pleasantly surprised by how much engagement I got (Sidenote; why are you guys reading my stuff?? It still seems surreal to me on some days)

Most fun story to write: Again, I loved writing DS, no matter its dark themes and am currently really having the time of my (un-)life with The Gathered Night.

Most unintentionally telling story: Not sure I get this question. But I swear, I am alright.

My favorite part of fandom this year: Everything going on with Dracula Daily this year! So many amazing (new) writers and stories emerging, fanart and essays being written, and I thank you all for it! What a year it's been!

[rosyandraw]

Nena! I have too much to say I'm actually embarrassed to send you this long ask. I hope you don't mind..... 🥺

Well first Hihi your berry anon here 🫐🍒

How've you been doing? How's life treating you?

I honestly got super excited and happy the other day when I saw your post on my fyp so I sent that all over the place and I didn't even ask how you were.... So rude of me. 🫣

Now going into a deep discussion about nmfy... I need to tell you that I missed your writing you are so talented it always blows my mind. So it was a treat reading your fic again.

This chapter fuuuck you made me feel every single emotion Laurent had ... His love and his anger felt so real 😭 and August... Well I'm going to be 100% honest usually I don't care too much about characters that our narrator doesn't care much about (damen) even more if they are never there. Yet I really like your August, I liked him even more because fics often write him like a perfect person and to me he doesn't feel real. I get that to Lauren, who was a kid with a 10 years older brother, August was/is perfect but reading him like that doesn't feel real. So kudos to your August to be real, to have flaws, feeling beside loving Laurent etc.

About him and Damen..... I'm always with whoever tells the story so in this case Laurent and I'm with him I would also feel jealous as fuck and like I'm the second option. And I keep imagining what would happen if both needed Damen at the same time who would he choose what would happen. 🧐🧐🧐

I think Damen's reaction to laurent and Bastian was so good and in character for a Scorpio. Those assholes I love them and I hate them (my dad and my two best friends are 🦂♏)

I read your answer about him being an Scorpio and I agree completely but something funny to me is that if I didn't headcanon Vere/Akielos as Europe and they were from my side of the world Damen would be a Taurus and Laurent an Scorpio and that make sense to me too. Haha I hc them like you but I think it is funny that they still work the other way around.

Also I don't know how you feel about this but...... August is definitely an Aries... Hear me out he's a natural leader, a good fighter (the best Laurent has seen) willing to die for what he believes/loves. Impulsive with a chaotic maybe even obsessed personality while also makes him lose interest very fast. Aries and Scorpio (damen) are an amazing good/bad relationship because both are very intense. I think an Aries would def kill someone like August did very messy and passionately impulsive irrational and they would 100% call their Scorpio best friend a more dark strategist who won't panic because they are capable of killing too. But he would also be great at planning how to get rid of the evidence. They (we haha im an Aries too) are also kinda selfish which I feel August is like he thinks Damen hates him for mixing him in his secrets yet he keeps calling. But I'm suree you have you hc for him so please tell me everything even if you think he is a idk a cancer soo please tell me everything.

And to finish this crazy thing I saw what you did with Ancel and Berenguer and I loved it and I need moree. ... Pleaseeee I'm begging you 🙏🏼🙏🏼 just lil spoiler just a lil moment of them interacting 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Ps. I still remember all the kinky shit we used to talk for Damen and Laurent so for now Im gonna sit and enjoy the angst but please know that I'll come back with the evidence if we eventually don't get some of it for them hahahaha jkjk fk as you please with your fic you are such an amazing writer that I trust you.

Kisses kisses, thank you for sharing this update. Have a lovely weekend. 💕💜💕💜💕

B🫐

Omg I absolutely do not mind, this is the BEST. It’s so unbelievable that you care enough so please don’t apologise! 💕

I’m good thank you lovely, life has been good! New job, engaged, all that fun stuff haha. How’s life for you?

Gonna put the rest under a cut because teeny spoiler near the end and also so people don't have to scroll haha.

Noooo, you’re never rude my dear!!

Aww I’m so glad you love Auguste, I wanted to do something a bit different with him and I LOVE him personally, he feels very personal to me. I love flawed characters, all of my characters are a mess because people are messy you know?

Haha I know what you mean! I think Laurent’s insecurity is pretty huge. I think if Auguste and Laurent called at the same time Auguste would have to wait haha tbh. Damen would either call someone to go get Auguste or he’d go get Laurent and then they’d go get Auguste.

Damen is… well let’s just say we haven’t necessarily had Damen’s full reaction just yet. Or Laurent’s for that matter. Whoops!

Omg my dad is a scorpio too and so is my stepmother haha

Oooo that’s fun! They do work the other way around for sure. And don’t I love Auguste Aries! I didn’t’ go as in depth for Auguste’s tbh, the only real placement I put down for him was Scorpio Moon, not just as a counterpoint to Damen but because Scorpio is a pretty volatile moon sign imo. But Aries sun I absolutely vibe with 100%, everything you said is perfect and works well with Damen’s character too.

Haha I do have another little glimpse of Berenger/Ancel in the next part, idk if Berenger will ever make an actual appearance in this fic, but you will get a little more about what’s going on with him and Ancel! I promise!!

OMGGG stay tuned because I accidentally wrote something kinky and it wasn’t meant to be there but they just started talking and before I knew it I’d written a 2k kinky scene so. Erm. that is that!!! I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on it when I eventually edit the crap out of it and post haha

(Also Ancel/Berenger is a side pairing in my next fic too, it’s like 15k one shot but they are there and I thought of you when I wrote them in haha)

Thank you my lovely, I always love to hear from you 💕💕