#hi may hi roma

[tomatoart]

Can you draw heavymedic please

rainbowdash died in the Bronx at 18

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

To heck with it--FragMem fluff

aka Happy First Anniversary to Fragaria Memories!

Apologies if OOC, this is the gist that I got of their characteristics. I hope you guys enjoy regardless!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was looking to be another late night in the castle's library, but at least you had the quilt Romarriche gifted you to keep the increasing chills away, and small snacks and tea to keep your spirits up.

Actually, you never brought the snacks and tea: they were always there when you came into the library. It started almost a month ago and none of the librarians could tell you who left them there (or so they claimed). You had an idea who the culprit was regardless; you recognized the tea set and plates as the ones he reserved just for special guests. You didn't approach him about them, though, afraid that if you did, your fluttering heart would make it difficult for you to properly thank him.

Besides, you still needed to figure out what to gift him back in return for the quilt. You've considered an embroidery of a bouquet of roses, tea from another kingdom that you think he may enjoy, and a quilt of your own making, to name a few. They were good ideas, but now that he was providing refreshments, you thought the gift should be a little more refined--

You blink, refocusing on the form in front of you. You chide yourself for letting your mind wander back to gift ideas and him. You have forms to finish and a bed to fall into, now isn't the time!

With a huff, you reread the paragraph and adjust the quilt over your shoulders. Your fingers run over the stitching and feel the soft texture of the fabric. Even if it's been months already, you still appreciate the craftsmanship of the quilt and you are thankful for the comfort it brings.

You know what, perhaps you should make a quilt after all; you aren't as skilled as the older needle-workers, but you're pretty good at the craft. You just need to figure out what patterns he likes, maybe you can casually bring it up the next time you two chat. While you're at it, you should thank him for the refreshments. He's so thoughtful, and you really should have told him you appreciate them when they started appearing.

Despite your best efforts to focus on the paperwork, your sleepy mind further wanders to him and plans for the quilt.

It isn't long before you quietly doze off.

You're not sure how long you were asleep, but when you become conscious, you realize a few things:

One, you're being carried by someone.

Two, you're snuggling against this person, who is so warm and whose arms feel safe to be in.

Three, there's a faint perfume of roses, tea, and a certain sweet something that altogether is unique to one person.

Romarriche.

Romarriche is carrying you.

You try to keep calm and be still. If you are still dreaming, you don't want to wake up quite yet.

After a few seconds, he stops to open a door and the familiar scent of the scented candle you burned earlier greets your nose. He's brought you to your room.

You feel yourself being laid on your bed, legs hanging over the edge, and your shoes carefully taken off. He lifts you up and puts you down again so that you're lying completely on the mattress, and your heart flutters at how he does it so effortlessly. The blankets are pulled up to your chin and gentle hands tuck you in. All the while, Romarriche whispers to the supposedly sleeping you.

"I deeply admire you for your dedication to doing excellent work and wanting to help wherever you can. I just wish there was a way where you wouldn't have to push yourself to exhaustion."

You feel strands of your hair being brushed away from your face. His fingers lightly touch your cheek and linger there.

"I feel that every time we meet, the bags under your eyes get deeper, and I cannot help but be more worried. I do remember what you told me that night, but I also remember you nearly falling asleep into your lunch just last week and again three days ago."

He sighs. "I want you to know that your coworkers and I would be more than willing to share your burden. You wouldn't need to stay later than usual that way."

His perfume gradually becomes stronger. "I hope that somehow, my words can reach you in your dreams. I dearly care about you and wish for you better health."

Something soft touches your forehead; it doesn't get past being feather light. It's there for just a second, then it's gone along with his scent.

"No," you hear him whisper to himself, "I mustn't. It would be improper of me to assume they would feel. . ."

Hang on, that tone in his voice. It couldn't be longing, could it?

He sighs again, then says with a smile in his voice, "Have sweet dreams, dearest."

Once he leaves, you open your eyes and think about what just happened. You clench your hands and internally scream.

Romarriche cared about you this much?! Did he know that you appreciate him and that you really like him?!

A realization hits you that makes your face warm up.

That feather-light touch on your forehead. . .

"It would be improper of me to assume they would feel. . ."

". . . dearest. . ."

He was in the process of kissing your forehead and stopped because he didn't know if you felt the same towards him.

Romarriche liked you.

You smack a hand over your now burning hot face. Great Strawberry King, you really need to work on that quilt ASAP!

. . . And tell him that you like him back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You look forward to harvesting the newest species of apples, so much so that you're sure the horses would roll their eyes if they could whenever you gush about it. You can't help it! You just love seeing how well the apples grew, and tasting one and thinking about the potential dishes you can make.

Stepping outside, you take in a deep breath of the fresh morning air and smile. The sun is just on the verge of peeking over the horizon and the autumn chill lightly bites your cheeks. You notice some farmers climbing into a wagon, likely coming back from the kitchen after delivering vegetables and apples for this morning's breakfast, and you wave to them. They wave back, then head on to their side of the field.

Your fellow harvesters won't arrive until a little later, so you decide to meander around.

You pass rows of various fruits and take a quick look at a patch of ripe pumpkins. Your lips immediately lift into a smile as you remember a certain Fragaria helping the farmers plant the seeds and attentively listening to their talks about pumpkins.

He was cute and had a very bright personality, was proud and had faith in the goodness of everyone he met. You two would have small chats at random times throughout the day, but nothing more beyond that, what with his knightly duties and your tending to the farm and the livestock keeping the two of you busy. You'd really like to get to know him better.

You look up every so often at the sky for incoming warm shades and you rub your hands together or lift the collar of your coat a little higher. You don't mind the autumn weather, but it does get a bit too chilly for your liking. It still doesn't stop you from getting up early and being the first to be ready to harvest.

You suddenly hear your name being called. Startled, you turn around.

Jogging down the dirt path, white and red uniform visible in the early gray morning, is Hallritt. He stops before you, panting, and his cheeks are pink from the autumn chill and the small excursion. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you, but I wanted to give you something."

He holds up a red knitted scarf and your eyes widen.

"It's just, I've noticed that you keep hunching into your coat and I get worried that you might catch a cold. So, I learned how to knit a scarf," Hallritt explains bashfully. "I'm sorry if it's a little crooked in some parts. I've never knitted before and practiced before making this, but. . . I hope you still like it."

You're silent as your mind registers his words; he slowly starts to become worried. But before he could say anything, you smile and say, "I haven't seen you a lot as usual and thought it was just my imagination. I appreciate this, Hallritt!"

Your fingers brush against his when you accept the scarf. In that brief moment, you feel a tiny spark that makes your heart skip a beat. You don't notice that Hallritt's eyes had widened a little, feeling the same tiny spark.

You wrap it around your neck and immediately laugh. Hallritt joins with his own. "I didn't realize the scarf would be this long," he says.

"No, it's perfect! Look, I can wrap my hands around the ends!" You proceed to demonstrate this.

"That's a relief!"

Somewhere beyond the rows, you hear horses fussing, and the sky starts to take on a pink tint. "I have to get going soon. Will I see you at the stables later?"

"Yeah! I have to apologize to Blossom for not visiting her for so long. I hope she can forgive me if I bring her treats."

"For someone like you, I'm sure she will."

"Wow, you really love that scarf," your friend observes.

"How could I not? It's so soft and warm!" you say, nuzzling against the yarn.

"You sure it's not just because the knight gave it to you himself?" they tease.

Your cheek warm up and you narrow your eyes at your friend. "No!"

After a beat of silence, you quietly say, "It was nice of him to make this for me, though. I've been racking my brain for the past hours settling on a gift."

You sit back against the barrier of the cart, staring at the clear sky. "I'd like to make him something with apples, but there's just so many things I could do!"

Your friend considers something. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen you try the apples we just harvested."

You blink and sit up, knowing your friend is a fellow baker. "Have you?"

They smile. "I think the taste will speak for itself."

Hallritt had been looking forward to chatting with you again, so he was a little disappointed when you weren't around as much as usual. Was this how you felt when he got preoccupied with knitting the scarf? He feels bad now.

"Hallritt!" To his pleasant surprise, it's you. The scarf is wrapped twice around your neck, and the ends flutter a little behind you as you jog towards him.

"Hey!" you greet, stopping before him. "I was hoping you'd be here. Here, I want to give you something."

You hold up a small casserole dish wrapped in cloth.

"Oh, you didn't have to!" he says.

You shake your head, insisting. "It's thanks for the scarf."

When he accepts it, he could feel the warmth of whatever you had made. "I made it with the newest species of apples. It took me a little bit to come up with the recipe, but I did it!" you explain proudly.

"You came up with the dish from scratch? Now I really can't wait to try! At the same time, it makes me relieved. I've been wondering where you've been for the past weeks."

"Sorry about that, Hallritt." You shrug and smile apologetically.

"There's no need!" A thought comes to him. "Why don't we go to the parlor and share this? I've. . . kind of missed talking with you."

Your cheeks heat up. "Honestly, me too. But you don't have to share, though! If anything, I'd like to hear what you think of them."

And so the two of you spent a cozy afternoon in the parlor, catching up and laughing, and unknowingly moving closer together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You yelp again for what seemed like the umpteenth time and manage to catch yourself against a brick wall. You're usually good at handling icy paths, but you've never gone down this street before and it is ridiculously slippery. You wouldn't be surprised if this street has an associated notoriety.

"Are you all right?" Tuxam asks, just three paces in front of you. You are impressed and envious over how he hasn't slipped even once during the walk. You think his cane might be helping, but it doesn't take away your feeling.

"Yes, just almost slipped again is all," you say, shaking your head and steadying yourself.

". . . Here." You look up from the sidewalk. He's offering his arm to you. "H-hold on to my arm."

He clears his throat, embarrassed by the stutter, and the dust of pink on his cheek darkens. He's still avoiding eye contact as he says, "As a gentleman, it would be unforgivable if I continued to allow the risk of you falling and hurting yourself. It is already improper that I let you slip the past few times already. O-of course, you do not need to accept my help, if you aren't comfortable!"

Like any other citizen of this kingdom, you are aware of Tuxam's fixation of being a proper gentleman. While there are moments where you think he is going overboard, you think it is charming how he insists on holding open the door for the next person or pulling out a chair for you to sit in. Or maybe you just think the Fragaria himself is cute--ahem!

You shake your head and smile. "No, it's fine! I appreciate it."

He's stiff and a little awkward as you both loop arms, but as you two continue down the sidewalk, he relaxes--just a little bit. This is much closer than the two of you have ever been; the other time was when he readjusted your tie and had unknowingly stood very close. You wouldn't forget how embarrassed he got over invading your personal space, but you didn't mind. . . mostly because you yourself were preoccupied by your racing heart.

You spy the two of you in a reflective glass pane. You had a pleased but shy smile on your face while Tuxam had a straight but blushing face. Altogether, you two looked like a couple heading for their first outing.

Whoosh!

"Whoa!"

A gust of cold wind suddenly smacks into you two. Immediately, you duck and huddle closer against Tuxam, your free hand gripping his sleeve. Once it passes, you look to him.

"Sorry about that, I was--Tuxam, are you okay?"

His face is bright red and he seems to be on the verge of exploding. He shakes his head. "Yes, I'm all right. You don't need to trouble yourself over me. Are you all right?"

"Yes, just surprised is all. Oh, your hat's a little crooked. Here, let me fix it."

You unlink your arms and adjust the hat accordingly. You then notice his bow tie is crooked as well and begin to carefully fix it. All the while, Tuxam is quiet. Another wind comes, but it's significantly calmer and causes loose snow from building roofs to fall.

He can't stop staring at you. He thought of you as perfection when the two of you first met, and being able to properly see your face, he was well reminded of it. The backdrop of lightly falling snow makes the scene somehow more beautiful.

You eventually notice his staring and realize how close your faces are. Your cheeks heat up. "I'm sorry, am I standing too close?"

He blinks, cheeks heating up as well. "Ah, no! I was just. . ." He falters for a moment, then collects himself. "Thank you for fixing my appearance. It would have been improper if it continued to appear unruly."

You smile in response. "Of course, Tuxam. Shall we continue walking?"

He agrees. When the two of you link your arms again, he's a little less stiff than before.

A few paces down the sidewalk, he speaks up. "If you need to hold onto me with both hands, you may. Your safety and comfort are important, and it wouldn't do if I ignored those."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You remind him of the poems he read about the the spring and summer breezes. Warm and refreshing, and a singing voice that carries beautifully across the field or a room with an open window. Sometimes, the breeze that is you turns into a dizzying wind full of anxieties. He's more than happy to listen to whatever is on your mind, and for that, you're forever grateful.

You try to repay him for being so patient and willing to listen to your anxious thoughts, but he waves them off. You accompanying him on his traverses into the nearby fields is more than enough.

It's something the two of you do sometimes after all the work is done, if the sun is shining brightly and Puruth is in the mood to look for four leaf clovers. Sometimes you bring your lyre to get his opinion on a work in progress or to have something to fiddle with. There are moments where you even come up with a poem or random composition on the spot.

The latter scenario isn't that rare, not when he looks right at home in a sunny flower field. You'll often see Puruth standing in the middle of ankle-height grass, staring at the distance with a relaxed smile, while the sun casts its golden light on him and turns him into an enchanting prince.

You think Puruth has caught on that some of your sporadic poems and compositions are inspired by him. You also think he's aware that you're aware some of the poems he writes himself are inspired by you.

Neither of you seem to want to point it out, but if the glint in his eyes are anything to go by and if he understands the glint in yours, this arrangement is just fine. It's basically a fun little open secret between the two of you, one that you hope lasts for a long time.

The gentle rustle of leaves. The smell of dirt and a tinge of lavender in the passing breeze. You open your eyes to the sleeping face of Puruth just a small step away from you. He's facing you, and you wonder if he had fallen asleep while watching over you. It wouldn't be the first time.

In the hour before you fell asleep, the two of you climbed up a small hill and sat beneath one of the trees at its top. There, he read poems from a book he borrowed from the town's library and the two of you chatted about them. You vaguely remember a poem about dandelions and thinking how nice it was to listen to his voice and how comfortable the grass felt.

The book now sits between the two of you; a ladybug was making its way across the cover. Surely Puruth wouldn't mind if you looked through to see what other poems were there.

You sit up--and that's when you discover something that makes you chuckle.

Three-leaf clovers have been stuck through the buttonholes of your jacket and the loops of your shoelaces. Puruth must have collected the clovers and stuck them in while you were asleep.

You pick the one at the very top of your shirt and realize it's a four-leaf clover. You huff through your nose, smiling. Carefully, you tuck it in his hair--then stand up and head down the hill to look for a clover patch.

In just a few minutes, his hair is dotted with the little green flora. You didn't have Puruth's luck in finding four-leaf clovers, but at least he had the one he gave to you. You silently laugh at your handiwork and reward yourself with reading the book of poems, eagerly waiting for his reaction when he wakes up.

You hope afternoons like these last for a long time.

[breitzbachbea]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Germany/North Italy (Hetalia) Characters: Germany (Hetalia), North Italy (Hetalia), England (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), Greece (Hetalia), Sicily (Hetalia), South Italy (Hetalia) Additional Tags: Young Love, Alternate Universe - Human, Organized Crime, Gossip, Minor Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Homophobia, Slut Shaming, Flirting, Awkward Conversations, Arguing, Minor England/France (Hetalia), Minor Greece/Sicily (Hetalia), Grief/Mourning, Diplomacy, Fluff and Angst, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, First Kiss Summary:

No chess player considers the pieces on the board as individual. All the trained hawkeyes will see is strategy - pieces worth losing, pieces worth keeping, all to prevent their own downfall.

But what do the King and Knight whisper to each other once they're alone?

Or: Feliciano learns that 'privacy' has gone out of the window when half the European underground is personally and financially invested in your teenage crush.

[Set in my Human/Organized Crime AU 'Like Father Like Son']

-

I wrote a gerita fanfic for beloved Hetaari, so if you can stomach some OCs and yearn for Teenage Gerita finding solace from immense pressures in each other’s arms, then this is the fanfic for you.

(Big thanks to Ilich again for the proofread and also to Christina for getting the Greek vibes right)

[pcktknife]

have you drawn aventurine before? hoyoverse did him so dirty. the slave tag they decided to put on his neck?? awful 😭 also once again you can’t tell that he’s romani at all

i havent. i dont really draw any of the dudes unless i really like them. i do have thoughts on his design though phew

[friedrice15]

🎶 Now let me say I'm the biggest hater

I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk, I hate the way that you dress

I hate the way that you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct 🎶

[arctic-hands]

Someone else on one of my genealogical groups asked for how to access records on the Service du travail obligatoire, France's slave labor program to Nazi Germany. I've been looking for online access to those records for years since I found my great-grandparents in the Arolsen Archive as forced laborers in Munich. I can't help this person because I still haven't found that resource so I'm throwing it out here, anyone know where I and this other person (whom I am presuming is also American) can find records or other resources?

[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingau from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 02. THE MEDDLING

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and for the sake of the smau imola was not canceled. note: thank you sm for the love you showed the first part! once again if you see some mistakes please know that english is not my first language and i noticed them once everything was finished. if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know! ♡

INSTAGRAM STORIES

MAY 14, 2023.

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 ROMA, ITALY

Liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 432,503 others

alex_albon Don’t believe anything they say, I won ⛳️

view all 3,799 comments

lilymhe i’m not gonna say anything. 🤐

user35 so it is true. they were with charles and Y/N user36 We don’t know that user37 someone working there confirmed it

charles_leclerc mate you fell like three times

user38 WE GOT THE CONFIRMATION user39 omg this makes it real user40 BUT WAS Y/N ACTUALLY THERE

user41 not his entire comment section filled with charles and Y/N fans 🙄🙄🙄

user42 PARENTS

yourusername shut up you know i won

user43 OH MY GOD OH MY GODDDD user44 i cant believe it i’m having a crisis over this user45 context pls user46 everyone’s saying they were in a double date and apparently this is the confirmation.

pierregasly thanks for (not) inviting me!!!

📍 ROMA, ITALY

Liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 756,223 others

yourusername i won. i have witnesses.

view all 2,498 comments

alex_albon keep saying that 🥱

yourusername SHUT UP

user47 not a single pic of charles and her together but we know they were together

user48 feeding us crumbs

user49 she looks so pretty

zendaya tom keeps saying we need to play golf when you’re back in london.

yourusername tell him i’m gonna kick his ass

landonorris you should play with people that actually knows how to play: ME

lilymhe SORRY? yourusername dw lils, i have your back

user50 i love how she’s befriending everyone

user51 thanks to alex user52 and your point is? user51 she’s using him for his fame user53 LOOOOOOL

pierregasly thanks for (not) inviting me!!!

user54 what’s more hilarious to me than this whole “double date” discourse are pierre comments on both alex and Y/N posts because they did not invite him.

Y/N & ALEX’S iMESSAGE

THURSDAY MAY 18, 2023 — PRESS CONFERENCE

charles is sitting next to lando and max, pierre next to him as alex stands in front of them. he’s aware they’re talking about what they’re expecting from this weekend, but he can’t seem to focus on what they are actually saying, only picking up pieces of the conversation. he’s too focused on his phone, the message thread he has with Y/N staring back at him. the last text he has from her is just a simple ‘cool’ after he was trying to play it cool.

“what you doing, charlie?” max asks, playfully poking him in the ribs. he immediately locks his phone, raising his head only to find that everyone is looking at him already.

“i know what he’s doing.” lando wiggles his eyebrows and charles wonders if he really needs his fingers to race. “you screwed up.”

charles knows he screwed up, and definitely doesn’t need lando reminding him the awful mistake he made for just trying not to sound too intense because, of course, he’s made that mistake in the past. and every girl he’s had something with always said the same: ‘you’re too much, charles’, ‘you’re taking things too fast, we should take a break.’ so ever since the last girl he dated, once again, said the same thing, charles promised himself he would not be that guy.

“hey,” alex has this look of pity in his eyes that he doesn’t like, not even one bit. “maybe we could do something to help you.”

“i don’t need your help.” charles’ tone is too sharp and abrupt it’s makes him feel a little bad for talking to his friends like that. but just a little.

“look, you like her, right?” pierre chimes in, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “alex is his best friend, if you want a chance with her, he’s the only one who can help you right now.”

but why does he wanna help him?

alex must see the question written all over his face because he says, “she’s dated a few assholes in the past and i really want something good for her. i trust you, charles.” he tries to look serious which only makes charles laugh. “besides, i have the perfect idea.”

ALEX’S iMESSAGE — MAY 18, 2023

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 VENICE, ITALY — MAY 19, 2023

Liked by scottyjames31, lance_stroll and 976,665 others

yourusername a few days ago i had the pleasure to celebrate two of my favorite people, Chloe and Scotty James. and spent two wonderful days filled with love and joy in the beautiful venice! so happy for you both. 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏼🩷

i wish i could stay here forever, but back to reality for now. :(

view all 7,455 comments

user55 i didn’t know she’s friends with the strolls

lance_stroll I have very embarrassing videos of you, just remember that 🍾

user56 why lance and Y/N look kinda good together

user57 That’s exactly what I was thinking. They would look pretty good as a couple user58 he has a girlfriend user59 and Y/N is probably dating charles user57 only rumors

user60 back to reality? she’s not gonna be in the paddock this weekend?

user61 why would she? nobody wants her there

user62 i thought she was in italy for the gp

user63 just a coincidence user62 still hoping she’ll be there

francisca.cgomes I’m gonna need to borrow that beautiful dress! ❤️

user63 she really knows everyone now user64 literally. she was just one time at a race and befriended everyone

user65 i feel like we’re missing something

Y/N’s iMESSAGE

SATURDAY MAY 20, 2023 — THE MISSION 007 DINNER

the second you see a head of brown hair standing at the door, you want to walk over to where alex is sitting and smash his head on the table. you made sure before arriving to the restaurant that charles was not gonna be there tonight, even lando told you he was busy with some ferrari event. obviously, both lied to you.

“hey, charles!” george, who’s standing next to you, his girlfriend carmen at your other side, waves at him. and for the first time since that fateful dinner a few days ago, you make eye contact with his bright brown eyes.

butterflies break free inside your belly, even when you try to repress everything he makes you feel.

you’ve known charles for no more than ten days but it really feels like you’ve known each other your whole life. everything is so easy with him, you can’t remember when was the last time you felt this way, if it ever happened.

you thought everything was going well between you two and, for a minute, you let yourself believe he could like you. but then he gave you the cold shoulder and everything came crashing down.

and that’s your problem. you always feel so much in so little time that when things don’t go the way you’d like, everything hurts twice as hard.

there’s no one to blame but you.

“hey,” is it possible to like the sound of his voice so much that you feel your knees going weak?

“you’re the last one to arrive. here,” george shares a look with his girlfriend that you don’t really know how to read, and both move aside. “you’re sitting here tonight. we’ll go find our seats.”

you want the earth to swallow you. you want to be in a plane far away from here because the seat george is pointing at it’s right next to yours.

before you can open your mouth to say something, the couple slips away. and suddenly it feels like you and charles are the only ones in the room.

no one says a word for what feels like hours. you’re actually trying to find a excuse to leave when charles sighs, defeated.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is almost a whisper, something only for you to hear. “i acted like an idiot.”

“yeah,” you agree because you don’t know what else to say. he did act like an idiot, ignoring you for days, not answering your texts even when you asked him if something was wrong.

“i can explain if you’d let me.”

his brown eyes bore into yours, so soft and sincere your heart skips a beat. and even if you want to say no, your whole body begs you to accept.

“let’s eat first and enjoy the evening,” his face lights up like a kid on christmas day. “then i’ll let you buy me dessert and we can talk.”

TWITTER — SUNDAY MAY 21, 2023

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @sassyheroneckgiant. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen.

note: i hope you liked it. i’m sorry if i forgot to tag you! please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

[saintobio]

ACT I. THE LADY

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), slight mentions of gore

♱ notes. 6.5k wc, unedited. again, for anyone who missed my small announcement, the ‘juliet’ from my megumi r+j fic has a name here for narration purposes. she remains as you or yn in the original fic tho :) feedback would be highly appreciated!

series masterlist ♱ act two.

“I humbly beg your pardon, Your Imperial Highness. The lady declines any audience at this time.”

Throughout his princely life, Satoru had never before faced rejection from any of his subjects, let alone one of his own citizens. No one ever dared to deny the Crown Prince as they were aware of the consequences of offending a member of the imperial family, let alone the future Emperor of Caelum. 

So, how could this mere daughter of a duke summon the courage to refuse his audience? 

It was baffling to him. Were you not the one who had written him a lovestruck letter requesting a meeting? As one of the eligible brides for the Crown Prince and a strong contender for the position of Crown Princess, it was only natural for you to vie for his affection and secure your spot on the imperial throne. You had it all; the status, the power, the wit. You had quite the face, too. This would have been an opportune moment for you to ensnare his favor and win him over. Yet, what reason could you possibly have now to suddenly decline his audience?

“On what grounds did she refuse?” Satoru maintained a stern demeanor as he stood beside his white horse, scrutinizing the servant from the De Roma estate who trembled before the prince. His blue velvet cloak and imperial insignia added to the overall intimidation of his presence. 

The maid, mindful of the perils that may befall her for the actions of her master, spake with evident apprehension. “The lady offered no explanation, Your Highness. She simply wishes to remain in her chamber.”

Needless to say, he felt a mixture of amusement and intrigue at this situation. The same noble lady who had previously been forward in her advances and infatuation towards him was now avoiding an opportunity to get acquainted? And to think, he had believed he was doing you a favor by granting you a chance to spend time with him this noontide. 

“Very well.” The prince gazed down at the servant with a stern expression, raking his slender fingers through his arctic white hair before mounting his war horse. “Remind the lady that there are consequences for denying the rights of the imperial family. Each slight she casts is an arrow to her neck. Let her know that there shall not be another chance such as this.”

He sensed the maid’s fear after she offered him a curtsy, yet he could not fathom how she remained steadfast in her refusal to grant him access to your drawing room despite his clearly spoken warning. She was guarding the entrance to the estate as though she would face greater consequences for letting the crown prince in than for keeping him out. Were you truly so stringent in maintaining your distance from him?

So be it. If that was your game, then let it be played. In fact, you might be trying to seem hard-to-get after the stunts you had pulled at the hunting expedition two weeks hence. If his memory served him right, you were the one who sabotaged Lady Anastasia’s crossbow and led her in her near-fatal experience. You see, you might have gotten away with it, but Satoru was a witness to your deliberate crime. He had seen you tampering with Lady Anastasia’s weapon, replacing her regular bolts with ones laced with fast-acting poison, which left the poor lady paralyzed in the middle of a dangerous hunt. Had it not been for Satoru, Lady de Florentine would have likely been mauled by a wild boar. 

Yet, his intervention only seemed to stoke your ire even more. Your jealousy after seeing him save Anastasia’s life only made you see red, almost revealing yourself the true perpetrator for the obvious expressions you had displayed. Still, he chose to remain silent about your malicious actions, pretending to be oblivious to your cunning ways and dismissing any suspicions of foul play in the incident. In a way, Satoru had saved your life more than you realized. Not only that, he had also safeguarded your reputation and standing in high society without your knowledge, as he understood that your animosity towards Lady Anastasia only stemmed from the way he had interacted with her, speaking in close proximity and kissing her hand prior to the hunting game.  

Ha! What a devious little viper you were. What a brazenly proud woman. By declining to meet the Crown Prince, you had only ironically succeeded in piquing his interest even more.  

“Is everything in order, Your Highness?” It was his close friend and personal knight, Suguru, who snapped him out of his reverie as they rode their horses back toward the capital. Three more of the prince’s knights trailed behind them. Suguru’s question hinted at concern for the prince’s sanity, given that he had been observed laughing to himself despite the insult he had faced just half an hour ago.

“It is rather amusing, is it not?” Satoru pondered, his hands firmly gripping the reins as he guided his horse along the uneven path. “Lady Y/N might seem out of her wits, but she is astute. I see through her tactics. She obviously desires my attention, which is why she is behaving this way.”

The long-haired knight chuckled with unease. “I fear that may not be her intention.”

The notion appeared absurd to him. “Not her intention? Grant her but a moment, and she shall trail after me once more like a shadow. This is a blessing, if anything. I am now spared the need to endure that lady’s temperament during formal events.”

Did you realize? Despite numerous instances where Satoru overlooked your transgressions, if you were to provoke his ire, he could surely publicly enumerate each offense. The stained dress incident involving Lady Serena? Your handiwork. The scandalous rumors regarding Lady Franchetta? Also your doing. Not to mention your mistreatment of maids and commoners out of mere boredom. Your actions would have easily rendered you an unsuitable candidate as the Crown Prince’s bride, yet he remained silent and never reported such occurrences to his father, the emperor. More than that, he should be relieved that you had chosen to avoid him and spared him further entanglements with you.

However, Satoru’s words contradicted his own sentiments, and he refused to acknowledge his hypocrisy. Although he claimed satisfaction with your decision to keep your distance, why did thoughts of you arise foremost when he passed by a jewel shop that showcased its newest collections? He and his men were traversing the city square when his sky blue eyes caught sight of a necklace with a large, deep-red garnet as its centerpiece, surrounded by intricate gold filigrees, and a single teardrop-shaped pearl dangling at the bottom. The overall design was bold and commanding, yet undeniably elegant. A befitting accessory for Caelum’s next crown princess.

“Would you care to inspect the jewel shop, my lord?” proposed one of his knights. “That necklace could serve as a splendid gift for Lady Serena, who is soon to celebrate her birthday banquet.”

The prince saw his reflection in the shop’s window, his white steed poised gracefully while he gazed at the jewelry on display. A smirk unanticipatedly graced his lips as he envisioned a particular scenario in his head. “Indeed.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Milena was cinching your corset when your father abruptly entered your chamber, his visage bearing a questioning mien as his footsteps loudened each second. You already anticipated the nature of his visit, for nothing else would prompt such urgency unless it pertained to your reputation. In retrospect, you remembered him having knowledge of your misdeeds against the other debutantes currying favor with the crown prince, and he was well aware of the details of your crafty schemes and all the deliberate sabotage you had orchestrated. And although your father often covered for you out of paternal pride, he still chastised you for your actions in private. The latter assuredly was the purpose of his visit now.

Well, dear father, your daughter is no longer the same. 

“Maid,” commanded the duke, “Leave us for a while.” 

Milena immediately bowed at your father. “Yes, Your Grace—”

“No, Milena. You will not take a single step out of this chamber.” Your order somehow surprised the both of them as though you had never sounded so authoritative before, like you had the imperial power and position to be issuing commands greater than your father’s. Ah, right. You were not an empress anymore. Or yet. None of these people were your subjects, and living in the past would really take some time getting used to. In an effort to conceal your years of imperial presence, you looked at your father with a gaze that suggested naivety. “What is the matter, father?”

Duke de Roma appeared visibly strained by his youngest child. “Y/N, is it true that you declined a visit from Crown Prince Satoru?”

You felt the urge to scoff, but opted against it. “Rejection is an understatement, Your Grace. My interest in His Highness has simply waned.” 

“So soon?” The elderly man was perplexed by your assertion, considering your reputation as a notorious obsessive lover of the prince. You were perceived by all as the erratic woman who would engage in conflict with any rival who dared to court his affections. “What sudden change prompts you to speak ill of him? Were you not striving to win his favor?"

Yes, but that was before. That was the version of yourself who sacrificed everything for someone incapable of reciprocating the love you sought. Things have altered now, and you recognized it was wiser not to pursue Satoru after knowing and personally experiencing the peril it posed to both yourself and the empire. He would only seek to exploit your family’s military influence to stage a coup against his parents, beguile you with his false affections, and make use of you until you were no longer serving him any purpose. You refused to be complicit in his ambitions any longer. Not in this life, no. 

“Rather,” you began with a voice of confidence, “I would choose being in a convent than to wed a man like His Highness.” 

Your father nearly fainted from your words. “By Saint Peter’s keys! I cannot understand the youth of today. Tell me, is there another suitor who has captured your interest? Have you found another man more noble than a prince?” 

With a smile, you looked at yourself in the mirror and prepared for the day ahead. “No, Father. On the contrary, I seek a life of solitude. If I could remain unwed for the entirety of my days, I would gladly embrace it.” 

This, you believed, was the surest way to distance yourself from trouble and seek redemption for your past transgressions. A life without Crown Prince Satoru was the road to attaining highest virtue. Your love for him was the reason you had committed such sins in the past, so the best thing to do in this life was to steer yourself clear from his path at all cost. Otherwise, the thought of facing the piercing gaze of Archangel Raphael again was too daunting to bear.

“What folly is this?” Duke de Roma questioned your words incredulously. “Did you not aspire to become the most powerful lady in the empire? Pursuing the Crown Prince is the path to becoming an empress. Cease this nonsensical talk and continue your efforts to win his favor!”

Once he departed, you were left alone in your chamber, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. You were tempted to let out a groan of exasperation, but with Milena present, you had to maintain your composure. It was crucial for her to witness your changed mindset. Gone was the vicious lady she had served in her previous life. Though you could not offer a direct apology for the role you played in her demise before, you were determined to ensure her comfort and well-being in this new life.

As for your father, you were uncertain what to do with him yet. He was coming from a place of concern, knowing that your decision to enter a convent would ultimately make his investments futile. He had invested heavily in your upbringing, providing you with every luxury, the finest education, and the resources necessary to secure a prominent place in high society. His aspirations for you to become an empress were not solely driven by paternal pride, but also by the anticipation of reaping the rewards of his investment. Losing such an asset would undoubtedly be a significant blow to his plans and ambitions. Yet, he had no single idea what suffering you had actually endured in your past life after becoming Satoru’s wife for 10 agonizing years. 

Well, in that case, you had an alternative plan—one that promised to secure the De Roma family’s status and elevate its wealth to unreachable heights without necessitating your ascent to the imperial throne.

“Milena,” you said, walking towards your window, “Prepare the carriage. We have somewhere to be.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

“Fifty celestas?!” Milena questioned in disbelief, her hooded cloak framing her face as she confronted the artist before you. Today, both of you dressed down, adopting a guise that would allow you to blend seamlessly with the throng of commoners in the outskirts of the capital. “Signor, are you not asking for an exorbitant sum? You are exploiting My Lady merely because she is the daughter of Duke de Roma.”

It was a mistake bringing Milena with you, but it also served as a good signifier that the artist, Giancarlo di Firenze, was still operating in an era where his talent and skill as a sculptor had yet to be recognized. In the eyes of others, he was a struggling artist whose work warranted no more than a few trinkets. However, you possessed the advantage of foresight, bestowed upon you by your gift of clairvoyance (or in layman’s terms, a cheat sheet into the future due to your regression). You knew that Maestro Giancarlo’s sculptures would eventually gain widespread acclaim, particularly after they were displayed at the Veneran Museum, and he would be the most sought after artist in the continent with pieces worth thousands. Even your then-husband, the emperor himself, commissioned him for the notable Star Crossed Lovers sculpture for the ten year death anniversary of the prince and princess of the Astheryn and Caelum Empires. The 50 celestas Signor Giancarlo demanded now paled in comparison to the immense resale value his works would command in a decade’s time. This would be one of your best investments as a mere lady with no imperial wealth. 

“Fifty celestas for this Apollo and Daphne sculpture seems a fair price,” you mused, scrutinizing each exquisite detail of the remarkable artwork. The sculpture was truly a masterpiece and very much deserving of admiration, which was why in your past life, it was highly coveted by The Venera for its sheer magnificence. However, you refrained from showering the Signor with excessive praise. To do so would only awaken him to the true value of his creations, and he could potentially inflate his prices beyond your budget. Thus, you maintained an air of indifference as you regarded the middle-aged sculptor. “It would make a suitable addition to our garden,” you casually added. “I shall purchase it.”

“My Lady!” protested Milena, but you silenced her with a gesture.

“In addition, I would like to acquire the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa and a selection of your cherubic sculptures,” you continued, disregarding Milena’s objections and the delighted expression on Maestro Giancarlo's face. “Pray, how much would the entire collection amount to?”

It was as if he had stumbled upon a treasure trove. The Signor’s eyes glistened with tears of joy as he responded to you. “Lady de Roma! What a blessing you have bestowed upon me,” he exclaimed, leaving you sympathetic towards his years of unacknowledged artistry. “The collection would fetch two-hundred celestas.”

Your maid, filled with concern, cried out in protest. “Preposterous! This is a swindle!”

Again, 200 celestas was a trifling sum compared to its prospective worth. Moreover, it was a price that would not significantly dent your finances as a noble lady. However, if you acquiesced to his initial offer without negotiation, he might infer that you would readily purchase any of his other works at its highest prices.

It was a simple game of chess, and he was merely one of your pawns.

“A hundred and fifty celestas,” you countered, maintaining a steely gaze on Maestro Giancarlo as you made your bargain. “Take it or leave it.”

The man voiced his objection, nonetheless. “But My Lady, I have dedicated weeks to crafting each piece.”

Being ten steps ahead, you already anticipated his response, so you offered a compromise. “Yes, yet two hundred for a handful of pieces seems excessive. I will increase it to a hundred and seventy-five. Do we have an accord?”

“But—”

“Two hundred celestas,” you declared firmly, “on the condition that you add a few more cherubim to my collection.”

In the end, he agreed to your offer with an air of triumph as if he had hit the jackpot. He penned your receipt with a sense of satisfaction, believing he had outwitted you with his inflated price when, unbeknownst to him, he had just sold pieces worth roughly two-hundred thousand celestas. The clear winner in this exchange was you, though you kept that fact strictly concealed. Your strategy to amass personal wealth would remain a secret to all, even if Milena thought you had lost your mind paying such a sum for the work of a struggling artist.

And you did not plan to stop there. Your next task was to visit Pietro De Luca, a renowned painter from your past life who had risen to prominence during your time as empress. Like the sculptor, this man was yet to achieve fame during the future period of artistic renaissance. He was the one who painted you and your husband’s infamous portrait at the palace. Unfortunately, though, luck was not on your side when you visited the painter that day, as the man had apparently journeyed to Constantia and would not return for another fortnight.

Ah, well. There would always be another opportunity.

“My Lady,” spoke Milena, standing beside you as your father’s men loaded the sculptures into the spare carriage. “I never imagined the day would come when you would take an interest in sculptures. When did you develop an eye for art?”

To tell her the truth, you cared little for its artistic merit. Your sole concern was its value and the wealth it would bring you in a decade’s time. You could never reveal that fact to Milena, so you offered an excuse instead. “They make for lovely decorations, do they not? They would certainly add to the opulence of the estate.”

Your sentence was abruptly interrupted as a pair of playing children collided with you, causing your hood to slip down and reveal your face. The mother of the children, instead of offering an apology, was too stunned to realize that you were a noblewoman from the capital. They were clearly of lower status than commoners; they were beggars, clad in tattered garments and bearing grimy faces. Your heart twinged with pity, especially upon seeing the mother cradling a baby in her arms.

A poor infant. Almost instinctively, your hand flew to your belly as memories flooded your mind of the baby you nearly had in your past life. It was Satoru’s child, the future emperor of the empire, the sole heir to the imperial Gojou lineage. Yet, he refused to acknowledge it as his own. What would have happened to your child if he had lived? The bittersweet recollection clenched at your gut. 

“Please, my lady,” pleaded the impoverished woman, “Any food or clothing would be a blessing.”

To think of it, in your past life, you realized that the commoners harbored resentment towards you for your extravagant lifestyle. None of the luxuries you enjoyed as empress were shared with the masses of the Caelum Empire. They remained trapped in poverty while you reveled in comfort, completely disconnected from their reality. It was no wonder you had incurred the wrath of Goddess Fortuna and Archangel Raphael.

And now, overwhelmed by compassion, you motioned for Milena to offer 50 celestas to the woman, who graciously accepted your gift. The sum would suffice for six months' worth of food supplies. Though you wished you could give more, your wealth was not infinite as the daughter of a duke. Nevertheless, it was the gesture that mattered, was it not?

As you and Milena continued to stroll through the plaza, you could sense the incredulous glances she would cast your way. It must have been strange for her to witness your kindness towards commoners, let alone your act of charity by giving away months worth of allowance to strangers.

“Is it the tea I served you the other morning, my lady?” she inquired, concerned. “You seem to be behaving differently, as if you have transformed into a completely different person.”

In your previous life, Milena’s straightforward comments would have resulted in punishment from you. However, in this timeline, you merely chuckled with her. “Life’s too fleeting to be evil all the time.”

Like an eager puppy, she nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, my lady. Indeed! It brings me joy to see you embracing life in a different manner.”

If only she knew the hardships you had endured in the past, molding you into someone who viewed the world through a different lens in this present time. She would have been glad to see you become an empress, but she would be horrified to know the amount of souls that died by your hands alone. 

You were lost in contemplation throughout the afternoon, and you wandered aimlessly around the city, immersing yourself fully in the lives of the common folk until dusk began to descend. Just as you were about to make your way back to your carriage, a larger one passed by, adorned in white and blue with the imperial insignia proudly displayed.

Today heralded the return of Princess Savina from The Providence. She was the sister of Crown Prince Satoru and the infamous Caelum princess who had tragically perished alongside her lover, Prince Megumi of Astheryn.

Her tragic demise was also the beginning of Satoru’s descent to tyranny. 

That could only mean one thing: the true story was just about to unfold. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You felt unsettled. 

Princess Savina’s return marked not only a significant turning point, but also served as a stark reminder of the events that had unfolded in your previous life. Her tragic death had set off a chain reaction of calamities. After her illicit romance with an Astherean prince was exposed, a devastating war broke out and claimed the deaths of innocent citizens. Shortly after, the prince and princess' dead bodies were discovered in the Sistine Chapel. While the conflict might have concluded with an armistice, it was also the catalyst for Satoru’s path to seizing the throne with your helping hand. It was this very moment that laid the groundwork for Satoru's eventual usurpation of the throne. 

Soon after, Satoru’s ascension to power would be imminent, with you standing by his side as his chosen empress. He would eliminate every traitor you had identified, while you exacted vengeance upon those who had wronged you prior to your rise to an imperial status. Yet, despite your unwavering loyalty and dedication, Satoru never truly trusted or loved you as his wife, ultimately leading to his betrayal in the end.

How could you stand still and watch history repeat itself? 

You had to have a plan. You had to devise a scheme wise enough to change the course of your life. And perhaps, befriending Savina might be the key. She might have a chance to live if her affair with the Astherean prince remained undiscovered, averting the tragic chain of events that led to her demise. That way, Satoru would not harbor the desperation to usurp his parents. He would not ask you to orchestrate a coup, and make you his pathetic empress in return. In this life, you resolved to be repulsive enough in Satoru's eyes that he would be utterly disinterested in you, even if you were the last person on Earth. 

The plan seemed logical, yet simultaneously absurd. In your past life, you had strived with all your might to become Satoru's wife, yet now, you were doing everything in your power to avoid such a fate. Is this naught but a cruel game? You could not suppress a wry chuckle as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the bright moonlight casting an illuminated glow upon you. It was enchanting yet horrifying at the same time to see a faint scar encircling your neck, a grim mark that reminded you of your previous fate as a beheaded empress. You were still uncertain whether you were the only one who could see the scar, but Milena had never seemed to notice it during your bathing rituals. Perhaps the scar would only manifest as a visible reminder of sin, and would fade with virtuous deeds. Your recent act of generosity towards the beggar, however, seemed to carry no weight in mitigating your previous unethical dealings with Maestro Giancarlo. It appeared that genuine acts of kindness were only truly rewarded when performed with sincerity, while any hint of selfishness nullified their positive effects.

You acknowledged that virtuousness was not inherently ingrained within you. While avoiding marriage to Satoru was your primary objective, the prospect of a life dedicated to serving the common people was not your desired path. As long as you refrained from inflicting suffering upon others, you saw no necessity in accumulating merits through good deeds. After all, your sole task, as directed by Archangel Raphael, was to atone for your sins, not to become a paragon of virtue. You were no saint. 

Three days had quickly passed since that night, and this day held a special occasion that had your heart pumping heavily the morning you woke up. Today, as accurate as your previous life, was the day of The Mass of Annunciation—a holy Catholic mass to celebrate when Archangel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin Mary and announced to her that she would conceive and give birth to the son of God, Jesus. 

The grandeur of the event was undeniable, and attendance was obligatory for all noble families of Caelum, given the devout nature of the empire’s populace. Moreover, the presence of the imperial Gojou family ensured the importance of the occasion. Yet, for you, stepping into Saint Peter's Basilica once more stirred nerves as memories flooded back from your time as an empress. Now, as a 20-year-old daughter of a duke, you entered the basilica beside your brother, Aristide, whose pompous demeanor drew the gaze of all noble ladies present. After all, he was the empire’s second most eligible bachelor after Satoru himself. In your first life, your brother had wed Lady Serena, and your relationship had soured when you declared him a traitor and accused him of treachery against your then-husband. Although Satoru had spared his life, he had decreed Aristide’s eventual exile, wary of the threat posed by a brother-in-law with ambitions for the throne.

The stark contrast between your current standing and your former eminence as an empress was palpable as you made your first public appearance in high society since your regression. No longer did heads turn and knees bend at the sight of you. Instead, you were regarded as a mere noblewoman, approaching the age where marriage prospects dwindled, and whispered rumors branded you as a woman with an unsavory fixation on the crown prince. It was a humbling experience, to say the least, and a reminder of the depths to which your reputation had fallen.

Despite no longer holding the title of empress, you spared no effort in your attire. You carried yourself with the same regal air, a testament to your upbringing and the lavish lifestyle afforded by your father. Your family not only produced the bravest knights, but also supported a prosperous weaponry business, which reflected your ostentatious way of life. That was why you had the means to wear a sumptuous gown of rich burgundy brocade, intricately woven with gold thread and adorned with delicate floral embroidery. You made certain that the modest neckline gracefully covered your neck to hide your revolting scar, while layers of sheer chiffon formed a voluminous skirt that cascades to your feet. Your hair was secured in a crespine, a delicate net-like veil adorned with lustrous pearls and sparkling gemstones, while around your neck hung a simple yet elegant silver cross pendant to add a touch of reverence.

In your eyes, you considered yourself a modest and conservative lady who was hesitant to reveal too much skin. However, your brother found it laughable, jesting that you might as well become a nun given how covered your chest and neckline were. He remarked that it was unusual for you to dress in such a reserved manner, as you had previously taken the initiative to wear attire that would attract Satoru’s manly gaze.

“Announcing the arrival of His and Her Imperial Highness, followed by His and Her Imperial Majesties—the luminaries of our empire.”  

As the imperial family arrived at the basilica, a hushed anticipation suddenly fell over the gathered crowd. The air was filled with a palpable sense of reverence and awe as the imposing façade of the basilica welcomed the presence of the empire’s highest authority.

First to enter were Princess Savina and Crown Prince Satoru, the heir and heiress to the throne, their regal presence commanding attention as they made their way down the grand procession. Princess Savina was resplendent in a gown of shimmering silk and a coronet as her headdress, while there he came… Your then-husband. Your ex-lover. Your betrayer. Crown Prince Satoru, clad in a tailored doublet of rich blue velvet, projecting an air of quiet strength and authority as he stared straight ahead towards the altar like he did in your past life. You had almost forgotten how princely handsome he was when he was younger, and you could not stop your frenzied heart as you felt somersaults in your stomach. No, you must not! It was all in the mind. It was all a matter of mind games, and this might be the first time you had seen Satoru again in real life after your regression, but he was still a man who had ordered to kill you. You should never be fooled by his luscious white hair and sky blue eyes. 

“In love?” whispered your brother, a smirk visible on his face. 

“Out of love,” you corrected and remained resolute in your goal not to get swayed by Satoru’s charm again. “I feel not a single thing.” 

Aristide scoffed at that. “Yet your eyes shine at the sight of him?” 

As the imperial siblings took their places at the head of the procession, the assembled congregation bowed their heads in deference as the imperial family proceeded to their seats and their every movement watched with rapt attention by the gathered nobility. Following closely behind were the Emperor and Empress, the reigning monarchs of the empire, their presence heralded by the sound of trumpets and the swell of sacred music.

You chose not to bicker with your brother throughout the holy mass, although there were times you were tempted to cuss him out. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, ridiculing your attire and insisting that Satoru would never pay you any attention. He took great pleasure in reminding you of the prince’s supposed revulsion towards your obsession, when little did your foolish brother know, you would be glad if that was in fact true. 

And the ironic thing was, in your previous life, you had done Aristide a great favor by marrying Satoru. This freed up Lady Serena for marriage, despite her supposed status as the crown prince’s favorite. You used to despise Serena out of sheer jealousy, while Aristide had always desired her, which was why your brother had urged you to win Satoru's affections to pave the way for him to marry the lady he so coveted.

In this life, you decided not to interfere in any potential relationship between Satoru and Serena, regardless of your brother’s wishes. You acknowledged that Serena would make a far superior empress than yourself, as she possessed enough empathy in her to prioritize the welfare of her people and avoid endangering them. She was not the type of person who would willingly bring about the destruction of an entire nation, nor would she welcome the spread of plague out of mere vengeance against her husband. 

With Satoru out of your plans, Savina then came into the picture. You had to speak and get close to her—close enough for her to trust you and befriend you, but not attached enough for you to act like her older sister. You would only be here to guide her and avoid her from the path of her downfall in order to save yourself. Savina was the key. 

Savina… Savina would be the one to save you in this life. Savina was your only hope. 

As the mass concluded, some of the nobles began to disperse, while others congregated in a corner to converse with the Archbishop. Your sole intention at that moment was to approach Savina, allowing your feet to lead you to the direction of where she was. But just before you reached her, you stumbled upon a very significant individual who had played a pivotal role in bringing about your suffering in your previous life.

It was none other than Satoru’s advisor, Lord Maximillian. 

“Lady Y/N, it is a delight to see you,” the man greeted, but you could see right through him. He never liked you now and in the past. In fact, his hatred stemmed from his peculiar fixation towards the imperial family. He may look younger presently, but he was still an old and rotten base-born cur. 

Maximilian was the one responsible for introducing Satoru to the prophecy, and he was also the individual who whispered your demise into your husband's ears. Given his role in your past suffering, why should you afford him any respect?

“It is rather surprising you had not burned inside the church,” you remarked acerbically, eliciting widened eyes from the nobleman. “Yet it does beg the question, Lord Maximilian, what brings a heretic like yourself inside a Catholic church?”

Within the confines of the basilica, or at least the space surrounding you, a variety of reactions unfolded. A noble lady shot you a disapproving stare for your perceived rudeness towards a man of higher nobility, while your brother regarded you with a mixture of astonishment and concern as if you had gone mad. Conversely, a young nobleman appeared impressed by your audacity.

As for Maximilian, it was rather amusing to observe the crimson hue that spread across his face. You anticipated his retort and braced yourself for his comeback. “Why, you foul-mouthed wench!” he exclaimed, his voice laden with indignation. “Who do you think you are speaking to?!”

You grinned triumphantly at your success in offending him. “You should be ashamed to show yourself in front of God—” you began, relishing the opportunity to further provoke him, but was cut short when a formidable presence appeared before you. 

The arctic white hair, the crystal blue eyes, the smooth ivory skin, the towering build from years of training… 

“Your Highness,” Maximilian immediately curtsied before the prince, while you remained frozen in place. Like a statue. “Your Highness, this young lady is preposterous!” 

On one hand, Satoru’s eyes bathed in humor as he observed the interaction between you and Maximilian. This was the first time you two had faced each other since the regression, and the emotions stirred within you were still raw. You were husband and wife when you last saw each other. You could still remember the last time you saw him the night before your execution, when he visited you in the West Tower and asked you to live a solitary life in the countryside as his mistress. Your heart seemed to constrict in your chest, yet simultaneously, it pounded loudly with anticipation. 

“Max, it seems the lady has labeled you a heretic,” the Crown Prince remarked, his gaze unwavering as he focused on you. “Can you substantiate your accusations, Lady Y/N?” he inquired, prompting you to defend your claims.

Satoru, you fool. If you were to reveal what happened in your previous life, he would be an accomplice to the crime. He carried the highest position in the empire at the time, yet he was a supporter of heresy himself. That alone would have brought him into Inquisition. 

You could not think straight. Oh for heaven’s sake! You could not focus. Could not breathe. Could not speak. Your thoughts were flooded by memories of your past life; of Satoru claiming you were useless for being barren, of him refusing to acknowledge your child, of him planning to wed another woman after the years you had devoted to him, of him ruthlessly ordering your execution. 

Of him never saying he loved you. 

Before you realized it, tears welled up in your eyes. You were utterly unprepared to encounter him today, let alone engage in conversation, especially while the wounds from your past were still so raw. Some wounds had yet to heal, and the mere sight of him brought them flooding back.

And with your unexpected reaction, his expression softened and morphed into one of genuine concern. Why? Why was he suddenly concerned now when he spent years of being an ungrateful husband? His smile had long vanished, replaced by a look of worry after seeing you on the verge of breaking down. However, before the tears could spill, you turned and fled, unable to bear the thought of crying in front of a man like him.

“Hold on, Lady Y/N—!”

His voice called out to you, but you refused to look back. No, you were determined to only keep moving forward, to distance yourself from the man who had caused you so much pain. Therefore, you hastily fled the basilica, seeking solace amidst the throng of nobles who were crowding outside. 

As you ran, tears streamed down your face unchecked, yet you let it be. The ache in your heart was unbearable, knowing that the man you had once loved so deeply now had the power to hurt you all over again. Only when you found a secluded spot beneath a stone pine tree did you collapse, clutching your chest as you recalled the face of the man who had caused you so much anguish.

I despise you, Satoru. 

“How could you betray me like that?” you murmured, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed beneath the tree, feeling utterly pathetic.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over you, and as you looked up, you saw a man with dark hair clad in shining armor. His smile was gentle as he approached and crouched down beside you.

“My lady.” It was the Knight Commander, Yuuta, offering you his handkerchief. “Is everything alright?”

[renonv]

Old art dump part 2, ft. Rome, Roma, and Seb.

This was May

Vs.

July

He still loves to carry his grandson ❤️

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Conium Maculatum

A Roman Godfrey Oneshot

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 8.6k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

OONA'S MASTERLIST

request for anon

requests are currently CLOSED

all AI images are created from prompts I wrote. they are not real images.

Summary: Reader has spent her whole life treated like an outsider. All she wants is to live & be treated normally. Unfortunately for her, the only person willing to do just that is Hemlock Grove's notorious rich boy Roman Godfrey.

            You felt him before you saw him. He was always watching you. Always curious. A small part of you was amused by his unwavering interest, but for the most part, you wished he would just leave you alone. Like everyone else did. All you wanted was to be treated normally. Not like an outsider.

            Hemlock Grove University was nestled deep in the woods on the north side of town. You were drawn to the small, sleepy town because of their public administration program. You wanted to major in public policy with a focus in agriculture, hearing from your Aunt Lynda that the town & surrounding forest were rich with potential farm growth. It was your dream to advocate for more natural sources of farming & agriculture that weren’t run by corporate leaders but people of the rural community. Plus, it helped that you already had family in the area.

            Lynda & your cousin, Peter, welcomed you to Hemlock Grove with open arms, allowing you to crash on their couch until you could get your on place to rest your head. Not long after you arrived, Peter moved on, wanting to explore north of Pennsylvania. It was a bittersweet goodbye. You were happy for Peter that he was wanting to venture out on his own but his parting left you with an unsettling feeling.

            “People here are not what they seem.” He had told you. At first, you thought it funny, knowing people often said similar things, if not worse things, about you & the people in your community, but Peter wasn’t joking. He warned you to be wary of others, to not be too trustful, & that if you ever felt unsafe to leave the moment you could. You promised him you would. It wouldn’t be the first time you lived somewhere where the locals treated you poorly, but you had never seen Peter concerned like he was. It unnerved you.

            But that was six months ago. And though you weren’t entirely welcomed by the townspeople of Hemlock Grove, they at least left you alone. That was except for the 6’4”, slender young man that rested against the lockers opposite of yours. You had your back turned to him but could feel him observing you.

            “What do you want, Godfrey?” You questioned without looking over your shoulder at him.

            You heard the disbelieving smile in his face, “How do you always know when I’m near?”

            “You’re not exactly subtle.” You pointed out but were smiling, nonetheless.

            Retrieving your textbooks from your locker, you stuffed them into your bag before shutting your locker & facing the wealthiest boy in town. He eyed you up down, admiring your outfit for the day like he often did. Apparently, you didn’t dress ‘normal’. But you had seen plenty of other women in your life dress the same way. They called it boho, you called it contemporary Roma.

            Roman Godfrey was your stereotypical rich boy. You had met, or rather seen, plenty of them in your travels. Yet he was different in one way. He was always alone. He didn’t have a posse following him around like all the rich boys you had seen before nor did he have a different girlfriend every other week. He was always alone all the time. Like you. You thought once before that may have been why he was keen on trying to get to know you: because you were both loners. But something innate told you that that wasn’t the case. So, you kept him at arm’s length.

            Resting against the lockers on your side of the hallway, you peered at him with a soft smile, “Did you need to ask me something?”

            He always had questions.

            “Yes, I do.” He bit his lip through a smile. He pushed himself off the wall to cross the hallway over to you, uncaring about other students trying to pass through. Your eyes never strayed from his startling blue ones. Once he was near you, he leaned his shoulder against the lockers beside you.

            “How’s Peter?”

            “Doing well, I imagine.” You raised your brows. That isn’t what he really wanted to ask, but Roman had a habit of beating around the bush when it came to you for some reason.

            “Oh, right.” He clicked his tongue against his straight teeth, “You Rumancek’s don’t like phones.”

            “It’s not that we don’t like them.” You revealed, “They’re just not necessary. If we want to talk to someone, we go see them.”

            Roman nodded, likely having heard the same explanation from Peter. It came as a little bit of a surprise to you when you learned that Roman & Peter were friends. Peter had never mentioned his name before he left, but during your first week at the university, Roman wasted no time in making your acquaintance & talking animatedly about Peter & how deeply saddened he was to see him go. The ‘deeply saddened’ part you took with a grain of salt.

            “Which is why, I suppose, you’re standing right here.” You added, narrowing your eyes playfully.

            “If you had a phone number I wouldn’t have to seek you out, would I?” He played, his voice lowering flirtatiously.

            “Something tells me that wouldn’t stop you.”

            Roman pursed his lips in knowing at that, “Guess we’ll never know.”

            Shaking your head, you pushed off from the lockers, “This conversation has been…lovely. But I gotta go.”

            “Let me drive you.” Roman rushed out but tried covering it with a sheepish nonchalant smile.

            “Roman…” If you could keep track of how many times he asked to drive you home on one hand, you’d need at least fifty more fingers.

            “It’s going to rain.” Roman stepped forward, his arm swinging over your shoulders as he led you to the doors that went outside. You looked up at the sky, noting the dark heavy rainclouds rolling in.

            “See? I’m not lying.”

            You glanced up at him, “You drive a car with no top. I’ll get soaked anyway.”

            His eyes twinkled perversely at that but he still carried his charming smile, “Not if I speed.”

            You sighed, staring back out at the sky. It was a long walk back to your caravan in the woods, but you always enjoyed the walk. You never took any roads, rather choosing to walk the two miles or so through the woods. But you did want to get started early on an assignment & the rain would only slow you down.

            Swallowing your usual refusal, you licked your lips in trepidation before looking back up at the regrettably handsome young man.

            “Okay.”

            Roman contained his obvious excitement but still clutched the keys in his hand in a closed fist & raised it momentarily in victory.

            “Just this once, Roman.” You warned him, not wanting him to think that it meant anything more.

            “Whatever you say.” He grinned, all his teeth showing.

            Roman led you outside, his hand on your lower back as he brought you to his hot red two seater. While you knew a car like that was sought after by many, it was only an eyesore to you.

            He opened the passenger side door & held your hand gentlemanly as you slipped in. Roman was touchy. You learned that early on in your association with him, but you never minded. To close friends & family, you were rather affectionate, as were they, so physical touch didn’t make you uncomfortable as it likely would any other person. But you did have slight concern in how far Roman would go in touching you if you continued to not say anything.

            Roman sped-walk around the vehicle to his side before practically jumping in. The small car jostled under his weight as he started the engine.

            “Thank you.” You told him.

            “No,” Roman winked at you as he reversed, “thank you.”

            Roman pulled off onto a dirt wood somewhere in the woods. Your caravanwas only a minute or so walk down the narrow foot path. Lynda helped you in purchasing one & finding a decent clearing in the woods for you to call home. But what you didn’t miss was how Roman knew exactly where to drive to drop you off.

            You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress your smile. What Roman didn’t know was that you knew he would sometimes come out here at night & watch your caravan from somewhere in the woods. As you told him, he wasn’t subtle & you could always sense when he was near. It was worrisome the first couple times it happened. After all, you were a young, single woman living on her own in the middle of the woods, but Roman never made himself known. As far as he know. And he never approached. Only watched. You summed it up to be just his curiosity, & perhaps, if your innate sense was wrong, his longing for another friend like Peter.

            Unlatching your belt, you began to get out of the car when suddenly your door was being opened from the other side. You hadn’t even heard Roman get out of the car, let alone race over to your side. You chuckled surprisingly but said nothing. He offered you his hand yet again as you got out. You accepted.

            “Let me walk you to your door.” He suggested.

            You wanted to refuse, but if there was anything you knew about Roman Godfrey, it was that he was one persistent fellow.

            Saying nothing, you began to lead the way. You noted how Roman limited his naturally wide strides, thanks to his long legs, to keep in step with you. He reminded you of a golden retriever: just happy to be there.

            After a minute of silently walking, save for a distant bird song here & there, you finally came to the clearing where your caravan lied in wait.

            “Wow.” Roman feigned shock at seeing your caravan as if it was the first time, “It’s a nice set-up you got here.”

            “Really?” You felt your brows crease as you stared at him with amusement, “Never been here before, is that it?”

            “No.” Roman laughed awkwardly, trying to hide the truth, “I have no reason to come out here.”

            You nodded at him, making it clear that you didn’t believe him but said nothing. He ultimately dropped the façade, looking at you in disbelief, “How’d you know?”

            “Your cologne.” You pointed at his chest, “It’s pungent. Doesn’t mix well with the natural, earthy smells out here.”

            “Bullfuckingshit.” He retorted but appeared mildly impressed, “What are you, a sniffer dog? How the hell can you smell that out here?”

            You giggled softly, shaking your head, “A gift, I guess.”

            “You got a lot of gifts.” Roman commented, “You always know when I’m near before I’m even there, now you can smell in the middle of the woods.”

            “Mm.” You agreed. Turning your back on him, you were assuming he would know that was your good-bye & allow you to disappear into your little abode but the sound of your name on his tongue proved otherwise.

            “Yes, Roman?”

            “Are you, uh, doing anything tonight?” He asked, blinking rapidly. You watched as he reached into the inside pocket of his gray overcoat, pulling out a pack of smokes.

            “Some schoolwork.” You frowned, watching as he produced a cigarette & placed it between his lips. “Please don’t smoke that.”

            Roman paused, looking confused for a second before realizing you were referring to his cigarette.

            “The smell.” You made a dissatisfied face, “Your cologne I tolerate. That, I won’t. If you don’t mind.”

            Roman removed the cigarette from his mouth, putting it back in its pack, “Sorry.”

            “Don’t be.” You mustered a smile, “Anyway. Goodbye, Roman. Thank you, again.”

            “Wait, about tonight?” He rushed out, taking a step forward. You paused just before your door.

            “I’m studying.” You reminded him, not necessarily needing to hear whatever offer he had in mind next.

            “You won’t have to go far.” He raised his hands, gesturing the trees around him.

            “What is it?”

            He smiled at your polite response, “A party. Here. In the woods. Happens every year. It’s the spring equinox party or whatever they call it. All I know is that it always happens on the full moon.”

            You nodded in knowing, “A Worm Moon, yes.”

            “A what?” He chuckled but was entirely lost on what you had just sun.

            “A Worm Moon. It’s what the full moon in the month of March is called. In spiritual terms, it means growth.”

            “Oh, cool.” Roman smirked before moving on, “I was thinking about going, maybe, ya know, I don’t really mingle with the locals.”

            “You are a local.” You pointed out.

            “You know what I mean.” He dismissed sheepishly, “But I thought it’d be weird going by myself, so…I thought maybe.”

            “I’d go with you.” You finished for him. Roman bared his teeth in hope, “What do you think?”

            “I think you don’t like being told ‘no’.” You responded coolly but kindly.

            “I don’t, yeah.” Roman shook his head but laughed lightly.

            “Hmm.” You nodded in thought. He was being…cute. And you hated admitting that, even if it was only to yourself. Roman had a little crush on you, that much had always been obvious, but he was really trying right now. More so, he was trying to be cool about. Not like ‘rich-guy-I’m-so-cool’ cool but a seemingly innocent ‘if-she-says-no-I-just-might-cry-so-I-gotta-be-cool-about-it’ cool. It was endearing.

            “Please.” His voice faltered, “Say yes.”

            Pursing your lips, you finally nodded once, “Yes, Roman, I will go to the spring equinox with you.”

            Much as he did earlier when you accepted his ride, Roman raised both of his fists in victory. But he quickly tried to hide his knee-jerk response by shaking it off, “Great, cool, great.”

            “You said that already.” You teased.

            “Yeah.” He shrugged but his smile was as wide as it could possibly go, “Okay. Well, guess I’ll see you later then.”

            “Okay.” You couldn’t help but smile back. He really was like a golden retriever.

            Roman kissed both his hands before blowing waving them towards you, “You won’t regret it.”

            You said nothing but waved as he walked away back down the footpath. Once he was out of sight, you sighed heavily, resting your head against the door to your abode. Butterflies flapped their wings wildly within your gut. You squeezed your eyes shut, an undeniable smile ripping across your face.

            So, that’s what that felt like.

            There was no mirror placed anywhere within the small confines of your caravan. So, you could only guess you were dressed enough for a party in the woods. It wasn’t that you seriously cared about how you looked but you still had that desire to just be normal. It would be enough that people at the party would likely whisper about you when they saw you, the least you could do to ease your worries was to keep it tame tonight. Whatever that meant.

            You were about finished with getting ready when you paused in what you were doing. You sniffed the air. Cologne.

            Roman.

            And just as you thought his name, your caravan shook with the rapt knocking of his arrival.

            Releasing a breath of air, you approached your door & swung it open, revealing the tall man on the other side. Even standing on the flat earth outside your caravan & he was still taller than you. It was funny.

            “Wow.” He breathed out, his eyes twinkling as he took you in, “You look…”

            “Normal?”

            Roman’s eyes flashed to yours, “No. Better. You look like a woodland creature.”

            You couldn’t help the bewildered giggle you released, “Whatever that means.”

            Turning away from him, you looked for your jacket to throw on. After all, it was only March & the night would only get chillier. After slipping into the sleeves of it, you turned back around to find Roman leaning on the frame of your doorway to peer inside.

            “It’s a lot bigger in here than it looks.” He observed before meeting your eyes, “Think it’d fit in here, too?”

            His mischievous tone caused you to narrow your eyes playfully at him, “We’ll never know.”

            Exiting your caravan, Roman backed up to give you space but again found your fingers as you took the single step down from the wooden platform below your door. You shut the door & faced him, slowly pulling your fingers from his.

            “I figured we could walk. Since it’s close.” Roman suggested. You nodded in response. A night walk in the woods was one of your favorite past times.

            He led the way through the woods & you found comfort in the silence between the two of you. As the two of you walked, enjoying the sound of cicadas trilling, you felt a warm near your pinkie finger. You glanced down, spotting Roman’s hand as his own pinkie intentionally grazed your own.

            “If you’re going to hold my hand, Roman, then hold it.”

            You watched in the corner of your eyes as he looked down to smile at you. Then you felt his hand hesitantly tangle his fingers with your own. It felt nice. Natural. What made it better was that he was being gentle about it. Roman only continued to surprise you. Though you still had your mild reservations about him, he had yet to truly do anything earn your suspicions. For now, you welcomed the warmth his hand brought to yours.

            After about ten minutes or so is when you began to hear the sounds of a party happening. There was music playing & raucous laughter. You felt as Roman’s hand stiffened in your own. You frowned at the action.

            “Are you okay?” You questioned, peering up at him.

            “Mhmm.” He forced a smile, & it was a closed lipped one which was the biggest give-away that he was lying.

            As you two grew closer to the sounds, Roman slowed down. It was a very subtle change in speed but you still noticed it. You stopped to stand in front of him. But he didn’t look at you, his eyes were cast over your head as he stared at the party nearby. You followed his line of sight, noticing how there were quite a lot of people. They were all drinking, running around, just having fun & enjoying their night.

            But you understood Roman’s hesitation. He was an outsider, too. Those people, locals, didn’t entirely welcome the anomalies of society. Facing back towards Roman, you gently ran your fingers on the underside of his wrist in comfort. It was something your mother always did for you when you had bad dreams as a child.

            “Hey.”

            Roman’s wide stare shifted from the party behind you to your face.

            “We’ll be okay.” You assured him.

            “Yeah, I know.” Roman shrugged, his obvious anxiety suddenly disappearing.

            You smiled up at him, “You don’t have to hide it from me.”

            “Hide what?” Roman feigned ignorance. But when you kept your stable stare on his wavering one, he finally dropped the mask, “Thanks for coming with me.”

            “Of course.” You tugged on his hand, moving him with you towards the party, “Thanks for getting me out of my neck of the woods.”

            Roman smiled innocently at that.

            Approaching the party, Roman & you entered the clearing side by side. Most everyone was too busy in their own doings that they didn’t notice either of you. You bit your lip, relieved for both your sakes.

            Beside you, Roman released a breath of air, also noticing that no one really cared or, if they did, they didn’t make it obvious.

            “See?” You bumped your arm into his, “Totally okay.”

            Roman & you found a few chests near a couple tables that had a plethora of drinks on ice. He pulled out a can of beer for himself before offering you one. You accepted before giving it a taste. It wasn’t often that you drank, you had no real reason to, but tonight was a special occasion. However, you didn’t miss the bitter taste of it.

            Roman noticed the look of disgust you made, trying to hide his amusement. You stared wide-eyed at him, “What?”

            “Nothing. I just sometimes forget how pure you are.”

            “Pure?” You laughed awkwardly. Strange word choice.

            “You know what I mean. You’re not…fucking tarnished by modern day society.”

            “Sure, I am.” You disagreed before peering up at him coyly, “I rode in that eyesore you call a car today.”

            Roman’s mouth hung open in shock, “You did not just say that about my baby?”

            A giggle escaped you at his reaction.

            The night continued on quite like that for some time. You & Roman found a couple spots next to a small bonfire, nursing your second & third beers. You watched as the people around you laughed, loved, & lived, happy to just be there to witness it. In the midst of people watching, Roman had at some point placed his hand on your thigh, his fingers long enough to wrap around to the inside of it. It surprised you at first, worried he was going to try to move it close to your private area, but he kept it right where he put it & never moved it. Not even an inch. So, you forgot about it soon enough.

            And then, whether it was the alcohol or just your natural desire to be physically affectionate, you rested your head on Roman’s shoulder. You felt as he inhaled deeply at that, & it made you hide your smile behind your can of beer. The moment was comforting, peaceful, & most importantly, real. It wasn’t forced on your part or an attempt to touch you inappropriately on Roman’s part. It was a genuine connection you were forming with him.

            But the moment was ruined, disastrously so.

            “Look, man.” A voice snickered opposite the fire from where you two sat, “Those two freaks came here together.

            It would have been too good to be true really believing you & Roman could attend a normal social event without being pointed out. You felt as Roman stiffened beside you, having heard the jab as well.

            You raised your head, finding the two guys who were shamelessly looking at the two of you as they laughed to each other. You sighed but didn’t let it bother you. It was nothing new. Roman, on the other hand, was clearly more effected by it than you were.

            “Bet they have some of the freakiest sex you can think of.” The other one sneered.

            Oh, boy.

            Before you could restrain Roman, he shot upwards, his height assisting him as he stared challengingly at the two guys across from you.

            “Roman.” You said his name firmly but he wasn’t listening.

            The two noticed his stance & laughed at him more, one of them hollering, “Oh, what are you gonna do, mama’s boy?”

            “I can bury you alive if you’d like, you stupid fucks.” Roman spit.

            You rose then, your hands gripping one of his wrists to try & calm him down. But the two only spurred him on.

            “Yeah? You & that witch there gonna cast a spell on us?” They both feigned fear, “Please, no, don’t. Our mom’s will actually miss us.”

            “Roman.” You tried to get in front of him, in his line of sight despite him being much taller than you.

            “Fuck you, man.” Roman snarled.

            “Nah, thanks, we’re good.” They laughed childishly.

            “Can you guys just shut up?” You finally snapped, spinning around to face them. They stared at you wide-eyed, in mild shock & amusement at your reaction.

            “She talks!” One slapped the other.

            You rolled your eyes, turning back to face Roman, “Ignore them. They’re just being assholes.”

            “Hey, Godfrey. If she talks then you probably no what she sounds like in bed, huh? Does she chant before she cums?”

            Before you could realize what was happening, Roman knocked you to the side, launching himself over the bonfire, before he latched one of his hands onto the throat of the kid who made the perverse comment.

            “Hey, man, let him go!” The other yelled, trying to rip Roman off his friend.

            You crawled back onto your feet, racing over to the rapidly growing violent interaction.

            Roman had the kid pressed against one of the trees, his thumb digging into the larynx of his throat to keep him from breathing. The kid tried shoving Roman off, but it was clear that he was no match for the gentle giant.

            “Roman!” You yelled, but he wasn’t hearing you.

            He had his deadly sights set solely on the kid before him, “You owe her an apology.”

            The kid struggled in his grasp, desperately opening his mouth to try & get oxygen but he would receive none as long as Roman had him in the death grip.

            “We’re sorry! Fucking let go! You’re killing him!”

            Everyone at the party at that point was focused entirely on Roman & the immature child on the other end of his end.

            “Roman.” You placed your hand on the hand that was holding the kid by the throat.

            It was only then that Roman’s eyes finally fell to yours.

            “That’s enough.” You told him, shaking your head, “Let him go.”

            He frowned at you, his eyes a mixture between rage & hurt.

            “Please.”

            At your plead, Roman finally softened, his hold on the kid loosening. The kid dropped to his butt, choking as air filled his lungs. You gently pushed Roman away from the area, needing to get him as far away as possible.

            “You fucking freaks!” A voice yelled behind the two of you.

            You ignored the slowly gathering voices of anger & name-calling as you led Roman back into the safety of the woods. Once you were a far enough distance, you paused to let Roman lean against a tree. He was staring wide-eyed at the ground, as if he was in a trance. You released a breath of air you hadn’t realized you had been holding as you watched him in concern. But it wasn’t of any concern for him.

            “I’m sorry.” He finally breathed out, his voice soft, “I’m sorry, _____.”

            You stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at indignantly.

            When he finally looked at you, & took in your hostile stance, he moved towards you with his hands outstretched, but you took a step back from him, shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”

            He blinked rapidly, a forlorn frown crossing his features, “I said I’m sorry.”

            But you only continued shaking your head, “I knew to be wary of you.”

            Roman huffed, biting his lip in frustration, “Why? Because I defended you?”

            “Defending me would’ve been ignoring them & walking away from it. Not nearly killing him.” You kept your voice firm, never having been someone to yell.

            Roman rolled his eyes but continued staring at you solemnly, “They were degrading you. I couldn’t not say anything.”

            “There’s so much anger in you.” You commented saddeningly, “I could always see it but I never knew how deeply rooted it was in you. Now, I’ve seen it firsthand.”

            He licked his lips, that anger you had seen back there returning to his eyes, “So, what? That’s it? I’m not good enough for you anymore.”

            “That’s never what this was about.” You whispered, “The only person you’re not good enough for…is you.”

            Roman softened at that, but his eyes watered. Your words were hurting him, that much you knew, but he needed to hear them. You cared about him enough to tell him the truth. You imagined there weren’t a lot of people in his life who were honest with him.

            “The fuck does that mean?” He questioned, staring at you with his jaw jutted out as he tried to keep himself from losing it again.

            “No one will ever accept you.” You told him, “Not them anyway.” You nodded back towards the party, “But I do, or did. But you want more than that. You want everyone to accept you.”

            “What’s so fuckin’ wrong with that?” He spit harshly.

            “Nothing.” You admitted, “But how do you expect them to accept you if you don’t accept yourself?”

            You could tell that what you were saying was being absorbed by him. And it hurt your heart to see him hurting. But it was the truth. He needed to accept himself.

            “I’m going home.” You told him, “Don’t follow me. Don’t hang around outside anymore. I need my space.”

            “What?” He asked, his emotions highly charged, “You’re cutting me out?”

            “For now.” You frowned at him, “And when I’m ready, if I’m ready, I will come to you.”

            You could tell he wanted to say more but you turned your back on him. Tugging your jacket closer around your middle, you found your way in the darkness. You felt saddened that Roman couldn’t walk your path with you, but he needed to learn to walk his own.

            It had been a week since you last saw Roman. And, to your surprise, he kept to your rules. You never sensed him around while at school, never smelled his cologne when at home. He was giving your space as you asked for. Part of you missed him, missed his always lingering presence & mischievous remarks, but you were still upset with him. You needed time to gather your own thoughts & feelings before you approached him.        

            When you did finally decide that you were ready to speak with him it was on a Saturday. You got dressed for the day, wanting to wear something light & airy for your walk through the woods. Roman’s estate was on the other side of the university, which meant a lengthy walk for you. But you were looking forward to it. It only meant that you would have more time alone with your thoughts as you trekked the three miles to his mansion & being in the midst of mother nature always helped keep you calm & in-tune with your feelings.

            It was early afternoon when you finally made it to the Godfrey estate. Your boots scrunched as they carried you across the expansive front lawn that felt almost larger than any national part in the country. You peered up at the gothic style mansion as it loomed over you. There were no cars in sight, not even Roman’s. Perhaps he wouldn’t even be home. But you still wanted to try.

            Knocking on the front door, you stood there for some time, gathering that no one was home, but just as you were considering leaving, the door opened with a groan, revealing an elder man in a suit.

            “Yes?”

            “Hi.” You smiled kindly, “Is Roman home?”

            The man eyed you curiously, “And who, may I ask, is asking?”

            “_____.” You told him, “A friend.”

            “I’m afraid Mr. Godfrey is out at the moment. If you would like, you may wait in the den here for him to return, though I can’t tell when exactly that’ll be.”

            “Oh. Okay.” It was only the afternoon. You had no obligations to make, & you did just walk three miles. A break would be okay. And if he wasn’t back by the time you thought it appropriate to leave, you would try again tomorrow.

            “Thank you, I’d like that very much.”

            The man nodded once before opening the door wider. You stepped inside & were reminded about just how simply you lived. You had never lived anywhere that had more than just a couple hundred square feet to it. You couldn’t even imagine living somewhere like this.

            “This way, Miss.” He guided you with his arm to a set of double doors off the foyer.

            Once opening them, he gestured for you to take a seat on one of the couches, “My name is Conway. If you have any questions, please, don’t be afraid to ask.”

            “Thank you, Conway.” You smiled up at him.

            “Before I leave, could I interest you in something to drink?”

            “Oh, no, I’m okay, thank you.”

            Conway nodded once before exiting the room, closing the doors behind him. The room was silent, save for the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. You sat still, taking in the room around you. It was beautiful, you had admit, what with the high ceiling & intricately detailed molding along the walls. You stared at the heavy looking desk, imagining Roman sitting behind it as he nursed a glass of scotch. You were unsure if that was anything he actually did, but you could see it.

            After a bit longer & with no sign of Roman, you decided to take a closer look. Trailing the length of the room, you eventually found yourself at the desk, overlooking the put-together items atop it. One item stuck out, though. You fingers the frame of the picture, recognizing only one of the faces in the family portrait. Roman was younger in the photo, not much younger than he was now, but still young. He stood behind a regal woman who sat before him, her hair long & dark. She had his same piercing eyes, though hers were dark. And on either side of her were two young girls. One with blonde hair who smiled sweetly, & the other with dark hair who kept her face hidden from the viewer.

            You were lost in thought, not knowing Roman had sisters as he never spoke about them, when you heard the front door to the mansion swing open followed by a resounding slam.

            “Conway!” It was unmistakably Roman’s voice.

            “Mr. Godfrey.” You heard Conway’s softer, more polite one through the wall. “You have a visitor.”

            A pause, then “A visitor?”

            “Yes, a Miss. _____.”

            It was less than a second later when the doors to the den burst open & Roman stood in the doorway, searching the room for you. When his eyes finally landed on yours, his eyes softened.

            “Roman.” You greeted. But he said nothing. He closed the doors behind him before quickly moving towards you. You didn’t have time to think or react before Roman had you gathered in his arms, hugging you close to his chest.

            You gasped softly at the unexpected bout of affection, but couldn’t be surprised at the same time that that was how he greeted you after respecting your boundaries for a week.

            “I missed you.” He breathed softly, his breath brushing the hairs at the top of your head.

            Your heart softened at that, leading you to wrap your own arms around him. It was incredible to you how in such a short amount of time, Roman had become someone you cared deeply about. At first he had been amusing to you, if only slightly annoying, but his persistence to become closer to you eventually won you over.

            He held on to you for some time, acting as if he was fearful of letting you go, that he would never hold you again, but you ran your hands up & down his back in reassurance. You weren’t going anywhere. Not unless he gave you another reason to.

            When he finally pulled away, he stared openly at your face, as if remembering every detail of it to lock & store away in the deepest recesses of his mind.

            “I’ve missed you, too.” You revealed. And you had. You weren’t lying. Couldn’t, honestly, even if you wanted to. You were raised to always be transparent.

            Your admittance sparked that charming smile he usually adorned to cross his handsome European features.

            “Come with me.” He exclaimed like a child excited to open a long-awaited gift.

            Unable to resist his childlike enthusiasm, you allowed him to lead you out of the den & through the many halls & rooms of the estate. You had no time to admire or inspect the details of the rooms before he led you to a set of glass doors. You peered up at him wondrously. He grinned down at you before pulling open both doors & gently pushing you inside.

            An amazed gasp parted your lips at the sight before you. Roman had brought you the estate’s greenhouse, & it was thriving with life. You stepped forward, running your fingers along the many different textures of plants & flowers, inhaling deeply the earthy, floral scent of the space. It was humid, as well, making you grateful you wore light clothing, but it too made you feel grounded.

            You glanced back at Roman, an elated smile on your face. He returned it, his eyes twinkling brightly.

            “It’s beautiful.” You commented.

            “It is.” But his eyes remained on you. You looked away. Roman Godfrey, the only person in existence who made you look away in embarrassment.

            “I’m glad you’re here.” He shared, walking further into the space, “I have something for you. Been wanting to give it to you ever since last week but you wanted your space so.”

            “Thank you, Roman.” You caught his eyes, “For doing that. It really meant a lot.”

            He nodded once, smiling softly.

            Turning away from you he leant over a table, his hands tangling among plants & flowers alike in search of something. You tried to peer around him, curious about what it was he was doing, but his large frame made it nearly impossible. And then he turned around. In his hands, he held the stems of many small, delicate white flowers, smaller than the palm of your hand.

            “It’s—”

            “Hemlock.” You finished for him, staring at the beautiful, yet deadly, plant with admiration.

            “Yeah.” He breathed out, grinning. “I remember you telling me about what the Worm Moon meant & I got to thinking about how all sorts of things could mean lots of things, things normal folk probably don’t even think about.”

            He handed you the hemlock & you accepted it gratefully as he continued, “So, I was doing a lot of reading one night, just reading about plants & whatnot & their meanings & I came across hemlock. I was especially curious about it’s meaning, ya know, considering the town we live in, & I learned that it means, actually, a lot of bad things, I guess you’d say. Stuff like poison, gloom, sorrow. But you know what I learned?”

            You knew what but you wanted to hear it from him, smiling up at him as he stared gleefully down at you, “Resilience. Potential.”

            You felt the butterflies return to your insides, fluttering around madly in there.

            “You were right.” Roman began, his hands cupping yours as you held the hemlock, “I don’t accept who I am. And the people of this town don’t either. Likely never will.” He chuckled lightly before continuing, “I’ve been ridiculed by them my whole life & I let it shape who I am. I let it control me rather than control it myself. But I’ve also survived this long. And…I believe I can be better, do better.”

            His eyes gazed adoringly into your own, “I have potential, _____. And you helped me see that.”

            “I know.” You cupped his cheek lovingly, “I’ve always seen it. It’s always been there.”

            You stared at each other for a moment longer before Roman finally leaned in, his lips capturing yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling your body relax into his touch. So natural. So right.

            He kissed you for a moment longer, deepening it by cradling the back of your head. You opened yourself up to him, allowing him to feel you, mind & soul.

            Then he parted from you, his forehead resting against your own. You laughed lightly & he joined you. Your sweet, soft laughter filling the space.

            “Have dinner with me.” It wasn’t a question. And it didn’t need to be.

            Dinner was fulfilling. You were filled with good food & good energy. Roman held your hand atop the table the whole time as you ate & drank a few glasses of wine. The wine was far better than the beer you had a week ago. The night was coming to a close though, & you were sad that you would have to leave soon.

            Conway began clearing away your plates as Roman led you from the dining room & into the main corridor. You expected him to lead you to the door, but were surprised when he began leading you up the extravagant staircase.

            “Where are we going?” You asked, his hand gently guiding yours.

            “One more thing before you leave.” He smirked down at you.

            At the top of the landing, Roman led you down another corridor with many doors. You wondered how anyone could need so many rooms & what all they were for exactly. But your curiosity was redirected when Roman brought you to a door near the end of the hallway. He opened it & led you inside.

            You stared in mild awe at the size of the bedroom. And that’s all it was. A bedroom. Roman raised his arm in a grand gesture as you took in the floor-to-ceiling windows & the detailing on the ceiling. It was like a museum. Filled with beautiful, crafted pieces of furniture & the finest fabrics around the world.

            “What do you think?” Roman asked, smiling in anticipation.

            You marveled the room before returning his smile, “Beautiful. Again.”

            “I’m glad you think so.” He bit his lip, “Because it’s yours.”

            That made you stumble where you stood. You eyed him warily, waiting for him to say he was joking & that it was, in fact, his room. But nothing of the sort ever came.

            “What do you mean?”

            Roman gestured to the room again, “It’s your room. Now that we’re a couple, you can stay here. I mean, most nights you’ll probably be with me in my bed,” he chuckled at that, “but ya know, for when you want your own space.”

            Words evaded you. It was dizzying, everything Roman said. He was moving fast, too fast for your mind to keep up.

            “Roman, that’s not…” You frowned, shaking your head.

            He approached you then, gripping your hands in his, “What, what is it?”

            You gazed up at him forlornly, “I don’t need a room here—”

            “Well, that’s okay, you can just stay in my room then, I just thought that you—”

            “No, no, Roman, listen to me.” You stopped him, tightening your hold on his fingers, “I won’t be here that often. And we haven’t even discussed being a couple, I’m not even sure what that means exactly. Look, you’re moving fast. Really fast. Too fast for me. We just made up. And I feel I’m still getting to know you. I don’t, I don’t feel it’s necessary to rush.”

            “But… I love you.” He stared at you, his voice soft & low.

            Those words caused conflicted feelings with you. Love was a strong word. A big word. Not a word to be tossed around so easily. He was getting in over his head, again, & you needed to bring him back down.

            “You don’t love me.” You retorted as gently as you could, “You hardly know me.”

            “Don’t tell me how I feel.” His voice hardened suddenly, along with his eyes as his expression shifted to the one reminiscent of the night he got into that fight.

            “Emotions are high, okay? We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

            “Yes, we do!” He raised his voice, “I love you, _____, & you’re… I don’t know what you’re trying to say but all I hear is you not saying it back.”

            “Okay…” You responded calmly. You attempted to pull your hands from his but as you did he held them tighter. Your eyes flashed to his, “Roman, let me go.”

            “No.” Roman’s lips quivered, his nostrils twitching, “You’re staying.”

            He tugged you closer to him. You felt your body stiffen in response, your fight or flight kicking in.

            “Roman, stop this, now.” You struggled against his hold but he was much too strong for you.

            “Why are you trying to leave? Why are you always trying to get away from me?” His voice shook with that same rage you heard that night.

            “I’m not, Roman, stop! You’re starting to hurt me.” You gritted your teeth as you felt the bones in your fingers begin to grind against one another in his death group.

            “Hurt you?” He asked blasphemously, “What about me?! You’re hurting me!”

            “I’m not meaning to!” You cried out as he crushed your hands against his chest.

            “But you are.” His voice softened as he gazed down at you, “No more. No more hurting. I just want to change. And you’re the only one who can help me with that.”

            “And I will, but first you have to let me go.”

            Roman erupted with a roar as he yanked you forward before you fell to the floor. You managed to catch yourself on your hands but weren’t quick enough to get back on your feet before Roman was on top of you, crushing your front against the hardwood.

            “Roman, stop!” You pleaded with him but your words fell on deaf ears.

            He then kicked your legs apart, forcing one of them to bend upwards as he made room for himself between your legs.

            “I told you!” He yelled, one of his hands on the center of your back, forcing you stay down, “You’re staying!”

            “No, Roman!” Panic gripped your heart & yanked when you felt him gather the hem of your dress & bunch it around your waist.

            This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening! This was Roman! Soft-hearted, charming, & always making the butterflies in your stomach flutter. But they weren’t fluttering anymore. There were snakes in there now, & they were sinking their teeth in.

            You heard the clinking of his belt buckle as he fought to get his pants undone.

            Had you really misjudged his character? You knew he was strange, different, much like you, but you viewed those qualities as endearing. But the signs were all there. The following you around school, staking out in the woods at night as you milled about in your caravan, buttering you up with sweet words that anyone would fall for. Even his touches were gentle.

            You felt a prodding at your entrance, suddenly regretting your choice to never wear underwear, having found bras & underwear a pointless form of clothing. But even if you had, Roman would have surely torn the fabric to pieces.

            Roman wrapped an arm below your chest so he could capture your throat in his hand, stabilizing your struggling movement as he forced himself inside you.

            A pained yelp filled the room as he stretched you beyond comprehension. You had never been intimate with anyone before, taking the idea of having sex for the first time as a serious choice. You wanted to wait until you found someone who it felt natural being with, who you could be yourself with. And up until five minutes ago, Roman was looking to be that person.

But not anymore as he took it by force, causing the most horrid cries to erupt from you.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” He grunted in your ear as his thrusts tore you apart, “Never. I only wanted to make you feel how you make me feel.”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, the burning of his assault spreading throughout your whole body. Never before had you felt more violated. Humiliated, embarrassed, ashamed, yes, but always from strangers who didn’t know any better or were too ignorant to care. But nothing ever like this. Not from someone who you felt genuine, real feelings toward.

And he was ruining everything.

His moans of pleasure were grating to your ears, a mockery of all the feelings & sensations you were forced to endure. His hold on your throat tightened, your air becoming restricted. You cried out but it was hoarse. You remembered the sounds the kid from last week had made as Roman held him against a tree, & wondered if he was as fearful for his life as you were in that moment.

“Ro—” You attempted to say his name but the lack of air only made it come out as a wheeze.

He continued to assault you, using your body as a means to show to prove to you his own twisted devotion. You felt him everywhere. His hands on your throat & hip, his chest flushed to your back, his thighs pressed harshly against your own. There was nowhere he wasn’t touching you, wasn’t hurting you in some way.

And even when it was over, when he grunted satisfyingly as he stilled above you, he was still hurting you. You knew, deep down, that the pain he caused you that day would never leave you.

When he rolled off you finally, having remained there for some time as you both caught your breath, you felt little comfort. Your world had crashed around you & were lying there in the ruins of it. But you needed to get up. You needed to get as far away from Roman as possible.

You winced quietly as you pushed yourself upwards, your arms shaking beneath you as you did. The pain Roman caused shot through you as you bent your legs, forcing a hiss to form between your teeth. The sound made Roman look in your direction.

He quickly moved towards you, his hand outstretched in concern but as he drew closer you slapped him. Hard. His face whipped to side, your handprint leaving a bright red mark on his cheek.

“Don’t touch me.”

It seemed as if, only then, it dawned on him what had just happened. He remained on his knees as he stared through you, his eyes watering & shaking, “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”

His apology meant nothing. Today was the last time you ever looked past his dangerous behavior.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you felt hot liquid ooze down your thighs due to the force of gravity. You didn’t need to look down to know what you would see.

Steeling yourself, you readjusted your dress until it covered your thighs, hiding the evidence of what Roman had done. Swallowing the dinner that threatened to come up, you limped away from Roman.

“_____.” He spoke after you, his voice wavering as he cried silently, “Please don’t leave.”

Ignoring his plea, you exited the room, leaning on the wall for support as you made your way to the stairs. Half-way down the stairs, you heard Roman behind you.

“I’m sorry!” He practically yelled, begging you to stay, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Pausing on the stairs, you turned to face him one last time. You glared hotly at him, fresh tears blurring your vision, “Yes. You did.”

Your claim forced Roman’s own tears to spill down his cheeks.

Turning away from him with finality, you hobbled the rest of the way down. Conway appeared out of nowhere, eyeing you as one normally would until he realized your state.

“Miss?” The concern in his voice almost made you cry again, but you surpassed him, helping yourself to the front door.

“Mr. Godfrey, what happened?” Conway’s voice faded as you left the estate, the door left open behind you.

Gripping your abdomen, you willed yourself to make it all the way. You had to. After all, walking through the trees always brought you peace & that’s what you needed most off, even if your blood seeped from between your thighs & coated the earth.

But as you did, Peter’s parting words rang loud in your ears.

People here are not what they seem.

this is 5/10 requests from my 500 followers celebration request opening!

i am so so so so so so SO happy with this oneshot/request. i fucking LOVE roman & writing for him has been a dream come true. (also, the amount of times i accidentally types rafe instead of roman while writing this was ridiculous so if you spot any sneaky rafe's that i missed, please let me know lmao)

big shout out thank you to the anon who requested. anon, i hope you loved it as much as i did writing it, PLEASE be sure to let me know what you think.

as always, please drop a comment, reblog w reviews, or talk to me in the ask box so i can read your thoughts/feelings. they are my drug.

thank you for reading!

oona<3

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]

taglist:

to be added to a taglist read rule 11 here. requests will be dismissed otherwise.

[teecupangel]

(sorry in advance, I've been stewing over this for so long that this will be a long one xd)

I was re-reading your fics on ao3 again (sue me, im starved for desmond time travel content) and whilst reading Eagle of Alamut's description i realised '...wait a damn minute, it is true! all of Desmond's knowledge on past is from his ancestors!' (not everyone is as big of a nerd as shaun). Cue weeks of relentless daydreaming over Desmond in Reneisance Italy trying his damnest to lay low... but: 1) he does not know what is socially acceptable at the time (clothe and behaviour wise)

2) the animus likely shielded it's users from the more... er.. unsaviory historical accuracy (child marriage, smell, violence and mistreatment towards the poor, women, disabled)

3) politics, culinary arts, medicine and money value from that era are not common knowledge (or even fully known to todays historians)

4) Ezio was not known for his subtility...

...so while desmond may know who to strike in order to protect Ezios family from getting executed, what places he may know to avoid if he wants to avoid attention from the italian brotherhood.

He does not know what he was getting himself in to when he decided to travel back in time.

I can just imagine him thinking that he can finally retire and live his life, but then BOOM here comes the shock of sociatal injustices! religious violence! inequality! horrendous mistreatment of beggars and disabled people! and as a good man raised in the 21st century he obviously can't, in his right conciousness, just turn his back on these issues, on these people.

So here he is, in Rome of all places, doing his best to atleast stay hidden from the Auditore's, and consequesntly, the Italian brotherhood's, detection, as he stalks the bright rooftops of Roma as histories (probably) very first assasin turned vigiliante!

I can just picture him at one point or another, getting mistaken for a Spanish assasin and his only attempt at 'confirming' (read: encouraging misleading rumours), is to use the very little languistic knowledge the American education system has bestowed upon him. cue him very awkwardly trying to immitate a Spanish accent/ speak in Spanish. or just, you know, say the only words every student knows, 'Feliz Navidad'.

It would be so funny if Desmond’s Spanish are based on:

1) what little remains of Ezio’s Spanish (maybe on par or even worse than his French)

2) Basic Spanish that he learned on the Farm

3) Spanish songs he heard

So people think that Desmond is eccentric.

And Rich.

Because Desmond wants to help people but he doesn’t want to be seen as an Assassin so…

He becomes a supposed rich Spanish (Arabic would have sent a red flag to the Brotherhood) noble who came to Rome to live a life away from his ‘family’.

Why is he ‘rich’?

Well, killing nobles and other ‘evil doers’ will flag the Brotherhood as well so it would be better to just…

Leave certain incriminating evidence in the doors of their enemies and let them duke it out. Hey, if some things go missing while they’re too busy with their enemies, that’s just collateral damage.

Also…

Sometimes, things go missing when some people get into accidents.

It’s easy to buy the impoverish area in Rome. It’s a bit challenging to get doctors to treat them.

Until Desmond flashed the right amount of money, of course.

Desmond manages to stay under the radar by being part of the upper echelon.

An eccentric foreigner who helps the poor and sick out of the goodness of his heart.

Or… because he apparently believes that the way to heaven is through good will and not… paying the clergy.

Desmond knows that being seen as completely good is a bad thing as well so he lets rumors spread that he’s an opportunist who heals the sick and protects the weak to receive their loyalty. He gives them salary to become his guards (not that he needs any) and people whisper how loyal the poor are to someone who gives them bread.

And to hammer in that “no, Ezio, I am absolutely not connected to the Templars BUT I’m also not going to be a good ally, just leave me alone!” plan he has, he becomes a patron of the art.

Sexually progressive art.

The church hates him but tolerates him because Desmond does ‘donate’ (jokes on them, he donates what he stole from the church) and the artists love him because he commissions stuff with the same thing over and over again “whatever you want to paint/sculpt/work on but I want the Borgia men getting fucked in the ass while Lucrezia Borgia watches”

He’s not rich enough to actually be a threat (especially after Ezio starts wrecking shit up) and he keeps to himself most of the time.

But, of course, life always has it out for Desmond and he comes face to face with a wounded recruit at the edge of his property and…

Well…

He only wanted to heal him then send him on his merry way.

He didn’t expect Ezio to come barging in thinking said recruit has been kidnapped by the eccentric ‘possibly sexual deviant’ Lord Miles.

[annoyingloudmicrowavecultist]

IMPORTANT: I'm running an art commission/donation match!

art credit: palms-upturned

edit: Amani’s gofundme has reached the goal!!! thank you to anyone who donated. please now consider giving to her brother Siraj’s campaign, he lost the home he spent 10 years building for his family and dreams to rebuild it as his act of rebellion. his short term goal is to reach $55k by Monday! Siraj also gives daily updates on his own situation as well as general updates on Gaza. I have been in contact with him for a while now, he is an incredible person.

it would mean the world to me if you could consider donating to help Siraj or one of the other campaigns listed below, anything you can spare helps!

more highlighted campaigns

Ahmed:

blog link

campaign link (€58k/€75k)

Amal:

blog link

instagram link

campaign link (€35k/€50k)

Shehab family:

blog links – Dana / Fahed / Mona / Malak / Yehya / Roma / Dodo / Sahar

campaign link (€50k/€80k)

Dima:

blog link

campaign link (only received €2k so far. if you donate to this campaign you can get an extra character for no added price!)

Noor:

blog link

campaign link (€18k/€40k)

I've given to every campaign listed here, and all of them have been verified by Palestinian users.

I'm also offering a sketch + flat colour request in return for a donation to any verified Palestinian campaign! (examples, prices & receipts under the cut)

if you want more examples here's my art account

prices are in written euros as thats the most common currency the campaigns are in, donations in other currencies will be converted to euros to determine the price bracket.

€5+ for a bust sketch, €10+ for a half body sketch, €15+ for a full body sketch, + 50% OG price for every character added (extra characters are free for any campaign with under €8k raised)

I may refuse a request if it makes me uncomfortable, so it's probably a good idea to send it first before making a donation (although if you have the money I urge you to donate anyway!). please reach out to me through DMs, not asks. I will accept a donation to any campaign as long as you show me where it has been verified by a trusted source! 0/5 slots taken

(please note that I'm away from the 10th to the 19th of August and won't be able to respond to requests during that period, however you are still free to send them)

[calisources]

IN LOVE AND WAR, EVERYTHING GOES. a sentence meme based around the subject of allies, enemies, war and enemies to lovers and more of the same tropes we all love. change pronouns, names and locations as you see fit. these are all scrambled around.

“Friends ask you questions; enemies question you.”

“You can live safe and be protected by people just like you, or you can stand up and be a leader for what is right.”

“Where do we find allies?"

“War created bizarre allies, while peace itself could be divisive.”

“I promise you, nothing will happen to you.”

“I choose my allies carefully and my enemies more carefully still.”

“People fight wars over ideas.” 

“Wars begin when you will, but they do not end when you please.”

“I was raised in hatred, Roma. I could never be your lover, only your killer.”

“We were enemies, no matter the truths. No matter that I loved him.”

“He’d set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her.”

“She's not the type to swoon for pretty lies.”

“The feud keeps taking and hurting and killing and still I couldn't stop loving you even when I thought I hated you.”

“These violent delights have violent ends."

“Men without morals are dangerous beasts.”

“The spiteful, little stars.”

“Death is real. Death is inevitable. Death comes when you're not ready for it. Be ready.”

“I was alive, but I wasn’t living. You took things from me. My soul―my heart.”

“You’re supposed to keep your enemies close. Therefore, it stands to reason that your sworn enemy should be kept closest.”

“When will you see I'm not your enemy, but your weapon. Wield me.”

“Can’t even get out of my grasp? Or is it because you secretly don’t want to?”

“Why are you confessing all of your crimes?”Are you trying to get hit?”

“You're a hero and I'm a monster. There's only one way that story ever ends.”

"Tell me you came to find me. That you changed your mind."

"How--how can you even say such things,on an evening you are meant to choose another as your bride?"

"My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned."

"I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.”

“The road for hell for me is paved with everything I would do for you, and that list never ends.”

“You have consumed my thoughts since the moment I met you."

“You have no idea what I could give you."

“If you mean to take me captive, you need only ask. I would come willingly.”

“I see you truly for everything you are and everything you will be and I claim you as mine.”

“I don't think I've ever met anyone as vexing as you."

“Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.”

“A wise man gets more use from his enemies than a fool from his friends.”

"We're on opposite sides, you know."

"You're the one claiming we're all villains. There's no black or white, only gray area. We can coexist somewhere in the middle, can't we?”

“A man with no enemies is a man with no character.”

“I smile to myself knowing that they may be dead.”

“I like your savage brutality."

"That's a poetic observation, coming from such a savage creature.”

"And you are mine, Victor Nox. whether you agree is irrelevant.”

“Bitter people are not interested in what you say, but what you hide.”

“Enemies can't break your spirit, only friends can.”

“In order to know your enemy, you must become your enemy.”

“Such a pretty face, but so weak and emotional. Just a regular man, after all.”

[puff0o0]

König with a gyaru s/o !!

☆ He loves taking you out to get your nails done. His favorite part is looking at them or choosing the theme if you let him !! Usually he chooses his favorite color on you (which is usually red or pink) but on occasions he'll pick blue

☆ He loves watching you do your makeup, completely fascinated by how well you put your lashes on and how you manage to pull off the makeup so well

☆ He loves seeing the hairstyles you put in your hair and he adores seeing how proud you are when you manage to get it the way you want it. It makes him so happy to see and he has even tried to do some of the hairstyles himself because you asked him to

(it was a high up ponytail and he made it lopsided)

☆ A little confused as to why you have a fliphone that is completely covered in decoration and gems but he is more than happy to buy you new decorations for when you feel like adding to it !!

☆ He loves your fashion whether you're yamanba, rokku, haady, hime, mamba, onee, ane, roma, or any other substyle !! He'll try and look for some clothes whenever he's at a store but in the end he only comes out with one or two items that he knows for sure you'll like

☆ He definitely tries his best to listen to you rant about the problems in the community or how you wish you had more gyaru friends to talk with. He may not understand what you mean with substyles or what parapara is but he definitely tries to learn for you !!

[figscigfigs]

my favorite moments of episode 13 of fantasy high junior year!!!!!!:

harold and the purple crayon mention!!!!

fig running around cleaning up hell bc she didn’t know her friends were coming over

“hey man!!! i’m in charge here!!! (and i pay him)”

BILL SEACASTER IS BACK!!!!!!!!! HIS BOAT IS GETTING A TRAMP STAMP BUMPER STICKER FOR HIS OWN DARLING MAN BOY!!!!!!! (cait may’s art continues to be the best thing to happen to me bc gd he looks so so rad)

the multidad curse just got a little confused!

“i’ve got this asshole trying to win president over me” “KILL ‘EM!” “i’m this close”

FIG AND ADAINE GET GUNS!!!!!!! (deserved and overdue)

tattoo in roboto is the scariest and worst decision fabian has ever made

*talking about fabian’s nemeses* “one’s my girlfriend”

“what vandalism did you do” “i… i helped clean up”

baby’s music (“move your head, torso still”)

"¡ got a gun!!!" :) (concerned sigh) (ally perfectly mimics pok's concerned sigh)

“it is too many blessings to ask for to have good luck and the most wonderful daughter in the world” (BRENNAN IM SOBBING THATS TOO GOOD!!!!!!! I WANT TO SCREAM I LOVE YOU GILEAR AHHHHHHH)

“you have made it snowy… strange”

ankarna just being the raddest. (“she took artifacts from other pit fiends about conquest”)

adaine’s cousin’s girlfriend’s nepotism and her friend’s dance ability being the reason she makes enough money to pass her wizard classes

nara’s dad just being absolutely devastated by the loss of fleek

“i’m roma childa” “KEEP MY FUCKING BUT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH”

“sup?” “sup?” *ONSLAUGHT OF NOs* “everyone stop talking except for adaine!!! and maybe me” “oh please the ball!”

the goddess of sun and clarity married the goddess of nighttime and doubt

LOU MF WILSON PERFORMING MORE UNTRAINED SURGERY?!?!??!?!?!

fig and fabian’s field trip to the bank in matching suits (sibling bonding!!!)