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facefullofsadness · 5 months ago

Text

she said "fuck me like I'm famous" I said "okay"

model!au

designer!giselle x assistant!reader

prompt - working as aeri uchinaga's assistant makes it hard for you to keep up, maybe in more ways than one

content - smut (power dynamic, pet names/praise kink, sloppy and desperate kinda rough sex, a lot of sucking (fingers, boobs, necks/marking), fingering, tribbing, possessive/corruption kink, a little hair pulling, squirting, multiple rounds/orgasms), alcohol consumption, exposition and tension building

wc - 8165

a/n - I was held at GUNPOINT to write "nda giselle" so here we are! worked diligently on this one so pls enjoy it o7!!! (please dear god I'm begging you)

- consider it my 800 follower special (even though I was supposed to write a 500 follower one but here we are <3, tysm for everything)

- OH MY GOD IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR A MONTH IM FREE

- additionally, dopamine is sooooo this fic coded but it's UNRELEASED YEW MFS SM ENTERTAINMENT I HATE YOU-!

an overwhelming rush of noise fills my ears as soon as I enter the busy dressing room.

I knew working as famous model and designer aeri uchinaga's assistant was gonna be loaded, but my first day on the job being the same day as one of miss uchinaga's bi-annual fashion show was not expected. I had to push through an uncountable amount of stylists, designers, assistants, coordinators, and makeup artists to make it to miss uchinaga's personal private dressing room, which was crowded in it of itself, even if she was the only model in that room.

she's famous for having the most grand fashion shows, especially the shows showcasing her summer and winter collections which she hosts twice every year for her designer brand, one around the start of the summertime, and one before the winter season, such as this one today. she spends months preparing for it every year, so it's even a wonder how it was possible for me to show up out of the blue so suddenly, literally on the day of one of the most important days of her year.

"you, rookie, did you bring the earrings set I asked of you?" the assertive voice of a man working on sorting through jewelry asks me, not even looking up from his work.

I stumble through the crowd of people to get to him, fishing the small box containing the earrings out of my bag.

"yessir, I fetched them this morning," I hand him the jewelry. he hums, snatching the box out of my hand to check the contents, continuing on with his sorting without even looking up at me.

"hey you, did you coordinate with the production crew about the lights? those things are important," a woman with a headset and a clipboard approached me.

"ah yes miss, they said they'd readjust the color to a cooler tone," I reply, nodding my head.

"good," a simple response before turning away and scurrying off.

"where's that fucking assistant- you! are you miss uchinaga's assistant?" an aggressive voice calls out for me near the vanity table.

I whip my head around and hurry over, "yessir, I'm her new assistant!"

he groans in annoyance and side eyes me, "whatever, took you long enough. get the hairdryer quickly we don't have all day."

I nod furiously before searching the room overloaded with items for said hairdryer, looking through the cart of hair and makeup equipment.

I hurried back to him and handed over the instrument before commotion increased, a firm and loud voice announcing, "miss uchinaga to proceed with hair and makeup!"

suddenly, the aforementioned lady herself exits a black curtain from across the room, adorning a beautiful black dress that hugs her figure perfectly, lacey sleeves flowing down her arms, her curves accentuated gorgeously.

a lump gets stuck in my throat as she sways her way towards the director's chair propped in front of the vanity. I lower my gaze and bow my head slightly as she passes by me, the breeze that follows her strut hitting my frozen-still body and making my breath hitch in anxiety. she comfortably sits herself down in the black chair, barely noticing my presence.

"hellooooo? rookie? get a fucking grip!" a female voice snaps me out of my trance accompanied by loud clapping in front of my face. "pay attention! can you get the goddamn hand mirror?"

"yes of course, I'm sorry miss!" I nervously pick at my fingers and push through the crowd again, rummaging through the cart for the item she requested.

"god how useless, why did you even choose her boss?" the same stylist gossips towards miss uchinaga.

"choose who? what are you talking about?" her graceful and soft voice replies nonchalantly.

"that nobody over there, searching through the cart like a homeless person in a dumpster, so gross..." the stylist continues, my stomach churning at the vile words.

miss uchinaga hums unsurely, "be more specific on who you're talking about, I don't have time for useless banter."

the stylist clears her throat, "your, assistant, I guess if that's what you can call whoever that thing is."

my hands clench into fists at the vicious comments she keeps making until miss uchinaga says, "she's here for a reason isn't she? means she's qualified."

the short and simple response shuts the stylist up quickly, returning to her work. I reluctantly hand the mirror over to her, her grip aggressive as she snatches the item from my hand. and I continue to meet the demands of the people in the busy room, running back and forth fetching things for people and assisting in helping everyone as best as I could.

it had to have been at least two hours of constant movement and working, everyone in that room not stopping for even a second. eventually, all the work that needed to be done was finished and we all had to proceed to the stage and start the show. I was tasked to stay behind and wait for miss uchinaga as her assistant, ready to help her with anything she needed.

and so gradually, the room had cleared of all the people, leaving an unfamiliar silence to hang in the air, my ears almost ringing from the emptiness. I stood there nearly in the middle of the room, feet glued to the floor and my head hanging down, eyes affixed onto my shoes. only but the soft rustling movement of the woman in front of me was faintly heard.

her melodious humming filled the room warmly, a comfortable tune dancing off her lips as she touched herself up and checked her appearance. I continue to accompany her and leave her to do her own thing, more focused on the carpet under where I stand.

"hey, come here will you?" the soft sounding but firm request summons me forward, moving to stand behind her chair.

"m-miss uchinaga?" I curse under my breath at the stutter, embarrassed by it.

she seemingly dismisses the mistake and continues, "you're my new assistant, aren't you?"

I gain enough confidence to lift my gaze and look at her through the mirror, the woman still diligently observing herself, "yes miss, I am."

"what's your name then assistant?" she fixes her hair one last time and adjusts her jewelry before turning and facing me, leaning back against the vanity with her arms crossed.

"y/n l/n miss..." my gaze falters under her intense stare, eyes falling towards the floor again.

her hum in curiosity makes my eyes shoot back up towards her face.

"huh." she hums, observant gaze trailing my figure, up and down slowly.

I feel small under her stare, wanting to curl up and let the earth swallow me whole, feeling like aeri uchinaga is tearing me apart bit by bit with her critical eyes.

instead, a small but obvious smirk tugs at her lips, "cute."

a furious blush climbs my cheeks and spreads across my face at her quick insignificant comment that still had made my heart swell and increase the speed at which it beat.

before any more words could be exchanged, she pushes herself off the table, handing her phone and keys to me, "you're with me, stand backstage and just watch, drive me home after."

I put her items into my bag and nod, following her out of the room and towards the stage. a cacophony of sounds fill the room once again as we hurriedly make our way there, people scrambling around with last minute touch-ups on their models.

the production crew checks in with miss uchinaga, confirming the setup of the stage from the lights to the props, as well as the flow of the show and every other detail she demanded information on. I stand right behind her and listen in, making sure if she needs anything I'd be ready to assist. they finish their discussion swiftly, the crew rushing back to their stations and miss uchinaga ushering the two of us towards an empty area with a clear view of the stage, the audience members sitting around and chatting having been in sight as well.

"you get the princess treatment for today pretty," she turns to me, a pleased look on her face.

the clutch on my bag hardens at her soft words, feeling my face heat up, "th-thank you, miss uchinaga…"

"y/n, call me aeri," her voice is gentle but low as she tells me what to do.

I stutter in response, "but, miss uchinaga, I'm- I'm not… I don't think it's that appropriate y-yet…"

"please y/n, we're gonna be together for a while so you should get used to saying my name, darling," she takes the smallest step towards me, her presence towering over me.

I feel her stare drill holes into my soul, her intimidating aura overwhelming me. she traps me when I look up into her eyes, unable to move my sight away from her. my stomach fills with butterflies, the beautiful goddess before me having such an alluring air to her. even in this crowded venue, filled to the brim with busy people, they're all tuned out, feeling like me and her were the only two to exist in this moment.

fuck, how am I supposed to work with her?

"got that, cutie?" the pet names continuing to make me want to implode.

I swallow and nod pathetically, "mhm."

"say my name then, pretty," she demands, her siren-like eyes searing my skin.

"a-aeri…"

"good girl, y/n."

oh my god, what the fuck.

"miss uchinaga!" a voice calls for her, snapping me out of the trance she put me under.

the woman in front of me huffs and turns towards the man with a headset that had poked his head into the room, searching for her.

"miss, you're on soon," he pants, motioning for her to get moving.

she raises her eyebrows and nods slightly at him in approval, shooing him away before she turns back to me.

"enjoy the show okay?" her tone is calm and comforting, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder and patting me, giving it a final squeeze, strutting away after I nod my head at her request.

the clicking of her heels fades and once she's completely out of sight, I release a deep breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. I clutch at my heart, bunching up the material of my sweater, feeling it beat out of my chest. my head is dizzy and my shoulder burns, the effect and touch she had on me still lingering, feeling my knees buckle at the mere thought of her, leaning back against a nearby wall for stability.

though I didn't have long to recover as the lights on the stage dimmed and the runway lit up, whispering from backstage heard faintly as music starts, the first model swaying their way onto the catwalk. I try my best to ignore the pounding of my heart as aeri uchinaga's winter collection is displayed on the models that walk across the stage.

the outfits are beautiful, stylish coats and jackets adorning the range of models, the clothes all dark colors but still with a certain attractive charm. arrangements of sweaters, slacks, and bags that compliment every outfit perfectly, each piece meticulously and specifically picked out to match each other. I'm mesmerized by the variety of fashion that these models are crowned in, aeri and her team's hard work apparent with the quality and effort put into every thread.

I become so engrossed and enamored by the show, that as soon as it starts does it end, the last of the models strutting off the stage finally as the winter collection showcase concludes. the music continues however, aeri suddenly appearing, swaying her way into the middle of the runway as the audience applauds. her ethereal aura palpable, presence so grand even while she's simply walking. making it to the center, she gives the audience a graceful bow, a charming smile, and an elegant wave before turning and sashaying off the stage once again.

mid my own applause does aeri emerge from the curtain separating me and the main part of the backstage area, pushing her curtain bangs out of her face with her fingers.

"how was it, princess?" she asks genuinely, tilting her head to the side as she awaits my answer.

my heart begins to pound once again, feeling like she really wanted to hear my honest opinion.

"not that how I think matters-" she immediately interrupts me.

"why wouldn't it? you're practically becoming my second-in-command, I wanna know how you think, see how truly compatible we are."

a sweet smile emerges onto her cherry colored lips, eyes and expression expectant for my response.

I nervously reply, "that's... really thoughtful of you, a-aeri."

her soft giggle permeates through the small space, my chest thumping at the sound, "don't mention it, just tell me how you feel."

"well, I think it was truly excellent," I state confidently.

her face looks pleased, but she looks as if she was waiting for more details, and so I continue, "the color palate was so tasteful, you and the brand have always been good at darker colors, I know that's your specialty. though they can be perceived as dull, it was so masterfully crafted that it didn't feel boring in the slightest. it was even elevated if I can say, accessories perfectly matching with each outfit, from the jewelry to the bags, incredible."

I got so lost in my enthusiasm about the display that I had practically spaced out, unaware to the joyous woman in front of me. looking back at her, an excited expression lay on her face, cheeks plump and smile wide watching as I rambled. her crescent eyes smiled at me, hair falling perfectly around her face and resting at her shoulders, just so beautifully happy.

feeling flustered, I stutter, "oh! I uhh, didn't mean to ramble so much, miss uch- a- aeri... I apologize."

"don't, I like it," whispering simply.

under her heart-throbbing stare, I look away, "we-well! we must get going, there's still your after party to attend."

she groans, "ughhh, fuck the after party, I don't care. too tired anyway, bossing people around all day to get things right is exhausting."

I return my gaze back towards the bored-looking woman, "but this is still your event, it might be strange if you're absent."

"why, are you gonna stop me? hm doll?" her eyes are lethal staring into me.

"m-miss... all I'm saying is the people might be disappointed... I can't stop whatever you'd like to do however, you're the boss of course..."

"mhm, and don't forget that okay? you listen to me," aeri's tone is firm and dangerous, dripping with authority but also sensuality, suddenly appearing almost right against me.

she crosses an arm over her chest and rests her other arm's elbow on it, her free hand slowly pointing a finger at my wide-eyed expression.

"got that, darling?" she uses the stray digit to tilt my head up, placing it under my chin, her touch igniting a fire on my skin.

I pathetically hum in response, sounding closer to a terrified squeak more than anything.

"you listen so well, don't you?" she smiles almost sinisterly, taking her fingertip and tapping it cutely on my nose.

she steps back slightly, giving me space again to which I release a deep breath, feeling like I can breathe.

aeri sighs annoyedly, "but you're right, my absence at my OWN show's after party is peculiar, but I don't wanna go. truly too exhausted for it. let's go home."

"I'll have to inform the organizers that you won't be attending. some important individuals were hoping to talk to you tonight," I respond, ever-so-slightly gaining back my composure.

"mm-mm, don't stress yourself about it," she shakes her head, resting her hands on her hips, "I'll shoot them a text and make the team send out packages with letters of me apologizing for it, no big deal."

"still aeri, I have to organize that-"

"I told you already y/n-ie, I got it, don't worry."

I let her win, a serious and unmoving expression on her face, "alright."

she gives a slight nod of approval, suddenly taking my hand gently, holding me by my fingers and leisurely dragging the two of us off. I let her guide me, aeri saying her goodbyes and goodnights to the hard-working team, telling certain individuals she would be contacting them in a bit to inform them of her absence. she leads me through the entire venue, seemingly having the most inconspicuous route to her car memorized, avoiding as many people as possible.

we arrive at the parking garage, her matte black sports car emerging into view.

"I'm driving?" I ask hesitantly.

she hums in approval, "never driven something like this before have you?"

the nervous nature apparent in my tone of voice, "that obvious?"

a giggle echoes through the garage full of expensive, high-end vehicles, "no worries darling, just think of a normal car with a bit more kick."

she was right, I had never driven such an expensive and sleek looking vehicle before, nervous to the possibility that I could damage it, especially knowing it was aeri's car.

it was almost as if she read my mind, "I have at least a handful more that you can crash, it's no problem if it gets damaged."

I choke and cough, "I'd hope I wouldn't get into a car crash!"

she turns and smiles at me, arriving in front of the vehicle, "you won't, of course you won't."

I reluctantly nod, dragging myself over and opening the passenger side's door, aeri climbing in with a small grin. I close the door, making my way over to the driver's seat, trying to breathe and calm my nerves. I settle into the custom printed leather seats, dark red embroidery stitched into the pristine interior, a fresh and clean smell wafting through the car.

"it is a ferrari though, so maybe don't damage it," she comments quietly, looking over at the woman whose legs are crossed and hands placed neatly on her lap, head leaning back against the seat with her eyes closed.

aeri is so incredibly nonchalant about the situation, it somehow comforts me, starting up the car and gaining enough courage to start driving. the trip back to her place was silent, peaceful cruising through the city, illuminated by the street lights, the two of us quiet in the car. she was right, it wasn't too bad but it felt like I could speed up and go too fast at any moment, so I tried to get a feel of how the vehicle operated, focusing on getting used to it. every other stoplight, I'd check the gps and then up at aeri, her resting figure so serene, the girl so still and pretty, unsure if she was really asleep or just resting her eyes.

her beauty is so utterly attractive and alluring, making my pulse rise every time I lay my eyes on her. what trouble will I possibly encounter working for this stunning woman? and how long will I survive?

almost in the blink of an eye, we arrive at her apartment complex. I find a parking space for the car, skipping the valet according to aeri's instruction, not wanting anyone else to touch her car. once parked, I finally let out a sigh, turning to my boss whose eyes flutter open, feeling the car's movement stop.

elegantly, like a princess, she sits upright and brushes stray hairs from her face, "home?" her voice raspy.

I nod carefully, climbing out of the car and opening her door. she tiredly stumbles out as I hold out my hand for her to grasp, taking it and stabilizing herself. her touch ignites my skin once again, her fingers lacing around mine once she's standing, shooting me a charming smile.

once again, I felt my stomach flutter, my whole body just succumbing to the ravishing woman whose hand was firmly holding mine, pulling me towards the elevator up to the penthouse. the ding of the elevator arriving and opening up to her place forced me back to reality, eyes widening at the sight of the grand residence.

walking inside and removing our heels, I got to absorb the surroundings. the motion detected light shone over us, not too bright but enough to outline the rest of the place. it was tall and spacious, high roofs supported by shiny white pillars, the wooden floors dark and clean, grand piano next to the comfortable array of sofas and armchairs, expensive accessories from the brand decorating the empty spaces on the walls, the breathtaking view over the city being the most prominent feature, large glass window panes displaying the incredible sight, leaving me in utter awe.

"like it? it's pretty nice," aeri's softly asks from beside me.

"you've got a magnificent place," I reply, still quite awestruck.

she chuckles once, letting go of my hand and walking forward, flipping the switches that dimly light up the living room in a warm tone, "you're a very honest individual, aren't you y/n?"

"is that a bad thing?" you ask, a little reluctantly, following her around.

"it's exactly the type of thing that's necessary in this industry, especially since you're working for me. honesty and transparency are some of the biggest traits I value out of my employees, within people in general really," she flips on the light switch to her big walk-in closet, "and you're my direct right hand, the most important person that I need to have be honest with me."

I stand by the door, taking in the room. it was such a large room for solely being a closet, clothes, accessories, and shoes all lined up against the walls, an almost never-ending selection presented on display. it was set-up like a designer store, except this was aeri uchinaga's own personal closet in her home.

she stood in front of a vanity area on the other side of the room, tiredly removing her jewelry from herself, hearing the metal rings clang against the marble countertop. she was quite careless with the items, throwing them off of her with little to no regard for damage, making me cringe slightly, worried they might break.

"come sit," she calls me over softly, motioning with her hand behind her towards the seating at the middle of the room.

I walk over, observing her diligently remove her earrings, sitting down with my legs crossed, once again watching her through the mirror.

"have you eaten yet, y/n?" the unexpected question startles me slightly.

"I can't remember the last time I have today," I respond honestly.

she hums, "well, let me get cleaned up and share dinner together then, shall we?"

I blink confusedly, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights at what she said.

"I need to get to know you more anyway, I think while I have you here, it's as good a time as any."

"it's quite late and you're tired, I should get going home..." I bite the inside of my cheek, her eyes staring back at me through the reflection.

"I insist," her voice is firm.

I gulp down my nervousness, nodding my head at her, aeri smiling at me, "good."

I watch as she reaches around to the zipper on the back of her dress, finished with the removal of her jewelry. her fingers struggle to get a good hold onto the metal and she calls me over.

"y/n, come help me with this zipper," aeri's firm but alluring voice demands me, urging me to walk up behind her, her back filling my view.

I swallow down a lump in my throat as my shaky hands reach up towards the metal resting at the top of her back. I grip the zipper and slowly pull downwards, being careful not to drag too quickly or damage the material of the designer dress. I feel the intense stare of my boss drill holes into me through the mirror, her hands moving her hair out of the way.

"nice and slow pretty, don't wanna damage anything do you?" her raspy voice fills my ears.

"y-yes ma'am," I stutter out, continuing to unzip her dress.

I feel sweat come from my palms, the speed at which I was unzipping her dress achingly slow, even though it wasn't even that gradual. carefully, aeri's back exposed itself, her milky skin emerging into view. my hands feel unsteady as they work, my breathing becoming uneven too, nervous to mess up and also seeing the woman's bare back. I try to simply focus on the task at hand, staring directly at the zipper and nothing else.

"you got it, doing so well for me," aeri deeply breathes out, her eyes half-lidded and seductive through the reflection.

her gaze makes me absolutely weak, I feel fucking insane.

eventually, the torture is over though, reaching the end of the zipper's trail.

I step back and stutter, "y-you can finish cl-cleaning up, I'll wait in the living room!"

I turn away and speed walk out of the closet, patting my skin dry from the nervous sweat, plopping myself down on the sofa and covering my face with my clammy hands. oh my god I wanna scream. what the actual fuck am I getting myself into?

the night calmed down slightly. we shared a light dinner while aeri asked questions about me, why I was interested in the position, what my goals are, what do I wanna learn from working with her, how long I plan to work for her, all answers which she seemed to be satisfied with. she asked about me personally too, where I'm from, my background, my education, my interests, all of which she was intrigued by.

we talked quite normally for a few hours, having had a couple of drinks already, feeling the intoxication climb up slowly. eventually, we moved to the couch to converse more comfortably. she sat right down next to me, handing me a glass.

"hoping you enjoy red wine too," aeri settles close to me, leaning against her arm propped up on the back of the couch, taking a sip from her glass.

I take a sip from mine, "it's sweet so I'm happy."

"ah good, I like a drink just not when it tastes like it," she giggles.

"oh," she readjusts herself, "let me ask you, are there any limits or boundaries you'd like to set for yourself with me right now?"

her question catches me off guard, "I'm sorry?" I ask, almost confused.

she catches the puzzled sound in my voice, "well, I wanna know if there's anything you wouldn't wanna do. I'll have you running a lot of different errands, some of them you could say are... physically taxing?"

her voice lingers through the dimly lit room, her face illuminated by the shine of the moon and city lights through the window, "I'm simply curious is all miss l/n, could and would you do any and everything for me?"

there's something sinister in the way she talks, her voice deep, the words coming from her throat in an almost inaudible rasp, but loud enough to resonate through my head. her question rings in my ears, what could she mean?

"I will perform any task you set for me to the best of my capability," I give her a simple and general answer to respond, unsure of what else I can say.

she hums, seemingly pondering, her face looking quite deep into thought. she looks up at me, capturing my stare with hers, the energy suddenly shifting when we lock eyes. a smirk tugs at the corner of her lip slowly, making my stomach flip. her gaze is filled with an allure of seduction, her sudden fingertip tracing my exposed knee close to her making me jolt in surprise, a chill running down my back.

"any task huh?"

my breath hitches when the cold condensation of her wine drips onto my knee, trailing down my leg. she taps her glass against my knee again, droplets splashing off and running down my skin, making me shiver slightly. I watch as she lifts the glass off of me and gulps down another sip of the sweet alcohol, her lips tainted red.

I hum in agreement to the question, the sound coming from my lips almost inaudible, getting stuck in my throat from how flustered I became.

she holds her glass with her other hand now, returning the hand that touched my knee back to it and placing it on me, her fingers dragging across my skin, caressing it, "god, you're cute."

her fingers trail up and down the exposed part of my thigh, playing very slightly with the hem of my skirt, not trailing any further up. her touch absolutely ignites me on the inside, constant chills going through me, my breathing becoming uneven.

"aeri..." I whisper quietly, the feeling of her touching me too much for me to handle.

"what is it darling? use your words," her voice is soft but menacing, hand grabbing the underside of my knee to pull me closer to her, my body pushed up against her.

I gasp at the movement, almost spilling my wine. she looks down at me, a hazy look in her half-open siren eyes, her lips slightly parted and wet as she licks them clean. my pulse rises impossibly high, feeling like my heart is about to burst out of my chest, aeri's hand trailing higher on my thigh, crawling slowly under my skirt.

I tear my gaze away from her stare and grip her wrist, clearing my throat, "a-aeri... I don't think we should be this close..."

she grabs my wrist back, sliding her hand into mine and interlacing our fingers, bringing my hand to her mouth, "well pretty, I just can't help it you know?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat and tense as her plump lips press against my hand, her eyes fluttering shut as she kisses it achingly slow. the way she moves is so mesmerizing, her head craning to the side as she kisses it again, the sound of her releasing her lips from my skin resonates, feeling the wet spot she left on me.

I break out of the spell she has me under and slip my hand from her grasp, gripping the hem of my skirt down, crossing my legs tightly as the desire for her grew within me, "we should call it a night, you've already had a few drinks..."

she doesn't let up, fingers dragging across my arm, "I just need to know more about you y/n, aren't you curious too?"

I shiver at her question, "aeri... I can't... we shouldn't..."

"what's stopping us?" she grabs the glass out of my hand and places both of them on the coffee table, freeing our hands.

she pulls me by the collar of my sweater, her face coming closer to mine.

her lips hover right over mine as she whispers against them, "no one has to know."

I place my hands against her chest, holding her back from coming any closer to me, my breathing shaky, "you... you don't want this... you're just drunk aeri..."

"I do, I do want this y/n. push me away if you don't want this too," she holds one of my wrists, "please... stop me."

her voice whispered to me, the pleading desperation in her tone evident. and fuck me, it worked, my entire body burning, feeling myself start to throb.

I hold in my breath, resting my forehead against hers, "I... I do want this too, I don't want you to stop..."

there's a glint in aeri's eyes at my words, her big hand immediately grasping my neck and pulling me into her, smashing her blood red lips against mine. the kiss is greedy and desperate, her mouth molding against mine sloppily, our breathing heavy as tiny noises escape my throat. I taste the sweet red wine on her juicy soft lips as I melt further into her, feeling my entire body heat up in desire, clutching at her tank top and bunching it up in my hands, pulling her closer, making sure there's absolutely no space in between us. her other hand grips under my knee, pulling me into her lap, straddling her as she tilts her head to the side to make out deeply with me.

her hand grips my thigh under my skirt tightly, other hand pulling my neck in as she slips her tongue into my wet mouth. I sigh out at the intrusion, letting her move freely against my needy tongue. the flavor of alcohol and saliva intoxicate me completely, her deep groans vibrating in my mouth, making me whimper in response against her lips. my hands thread through her perfectly soft hair while both of her hands grip my thighs, rubbing them up and down before squeezing my hips, finally landing on my exposed waist, sliding under my cropped sweater, and guiding me on her lap.

I moan deeply against her, my core grinding on hers, aeri also releasing a long pleasured groan at the sensation. we finally pull away, leaning our foreheads against each other as we both pant, out of breath.

"fuck y/n, you're perfect," she sighs out, chest rising and falling, clutching the locks of her hair tightly to keep her close to me.

"aeri, I need you..." I desperately whine, my core aching painfully.

I pull back slightly to look her in the eyes and they're dark, clouded with lust and desire, which makes the pulsing between my thighs pound harder.

her voice is low and sultry, "tell me how badly."

the grip on my waist tightens as she guides my body once again, brushing my center against her own, making both of us moan.

"so, fucking, badly," I gasp out with each grind of my hips.

her hands guide me slowly but roughly, the contact of our clothed cores driving me insane, my stomach wanting to explode from the tightness. I grip her tightly as she continues to grind me against her, her fingers digging into my skin, my eyes squinted shut as the pleasure gradually but intensely builds inside me. I try to keep my eyes open, looking down at her focused stare, so hypnotized by the moment, feeling her gaze memorize the look of desire painted all over my face.

"let me help you," she whispers against my chest, one hand pulling my sweater up and over my breasts.

I release a hand from her hair and grip her shoulder with a gasp, the one unclasping my bra.

"it's okay," her teeth pulling my bra off, "trust me beautiful, I've got you."

her words make me lighten my hold on her shoulder, allowing her to keep going. she hums softly before exposing my boobs to the air, turning my cheeks pink in embarrassment. it swiftly washes away though as aeri's lips mumble against my skin.

"so pretty," my breath hitches when she attaches her mouth to my nipple, sucking the bud in and flicking her hot wet tongue against it.

I moan out loudly, the sensation had my eyes rolling back, arching myself into her as I grinded my own hips against her lap. her tongue swirled around my nipple, the saliva trailing down my chest, aeri using it to spread against my entire tit. I pant as she harshly but quickly bites down around my bud, soothing the shocking pain with her warm muscle. she switches to my other boob, spitting onto my nipple before swiping her tongue, sucking my entire tit into her mouth as she plays with the bud on her tongue.

"fuck aeri..." I whine in pleasure, both of my hands gripping at her shoulders, fingernails digging into them.

"like that?" she asks incoherently against my boob.

I nod mindlessly as I feel her smile against my chest, "already losing your mind huh? so sensitive baby."

she chuckles deeply, the sound vibrating on her tongue as it moves against my nipple. with one hand on my waist, she brings her other hand under my skirt again, creeping up my inner thigh and caressing her knuckle against my clothed clit. I jolt in her hold, biting down on my lip to suppress an embarrassingly loud whimper.

"don't hold back, let me hear you," she detaches from my chest, cupping my face and pulling me in.

her fingertip traces against my slit, "you're so fucking wet darling, you did want this, didn't you?"

"uh huh," I pant out, her finger pressing against my clit.

"fuck, I'm gonna ruin you."

aeri kisses me again, locking lips with mine, slipping her tongue into my mouth as I return her desperation with as much passion, thrashing my tongue back against hers. I feel her carefully push my panties to the side, two fingers sliding around my clit and dipping in and out of my slick slit, getting them wet from my dripping pussy.

"god you are soaked, you poor thing..." she teases after releasing me from her lips, teeth dragging my bottom lip, "must ache so bad."

"it does, fuck it does, aeri please please please," I beg desperately, "please fuck me..."

she groans against my lips, "you are so pretty when you beg, I'm gonna get so addicted to every part of you."

I whimper when she pinches my clit, soothing it when she rubs it in circles, "especially with this perfect pussy of yours."

aeri starts to leave wet kisses across my neck as her fingers flick my clit back and forth, gradually getting faster. I lace my fingers through her hair, gripping her head against my neck as my other hand clutches onto her upper arm for support as she continues to play with my pussy. I'm gasping for air, feeling the breath knocked out of me with how overwhelming the sensation of pleasure within me grows. her fingers slide down to my opening, gathering the slick and slapping her hand against my folds.

she inserts those two fingers inside of me, slipping them in easily due to my wetness, her digits completely sheathed by my walls. I let out a blissful cry at the action, digging my nails into her skin, making her hiss.

she groans with me, "my god you're so tight, your pussy just sucked me in. you feel perfect around me."

carefully, aeri draws her digits back, thumb rubbing at my clit, before sinking them inside me again, fingertips landing against that spot so delicious that it pulls a moan of delight from my lips. her tongue drags across the length of my perspiring neck, hand working smoothly against my sopping cunt.

"fuck! right there aeri yes, so good..." I sigh breathlessly, hips grinding back against her hand.

"taking me so well princess, that's it," she coos.

she starts speeding up, a consistent but accelerating pace as she plunges in and out of my hole, the sounds of our pants and gushing of my entrance filling my ears, aeri's lips against my jaw.

she trails her lips up to my ear and whispers, "such a good girl."

her voice drips with seduction, making my eyes roll back harder when she slips in a third finger. I release a euphoric scream, the intrusion full of pain and pleasure as it stretches me open, burning like hellfire but felt so unfathomably heavenly.

"you're gonna take everything I give you darling, fuck I'm going insane," immediately thrusting her fingers into me swiftly.

"ohhhhh goddddd..." one long continuous loud moan is forced from my throat, each pound of her hand sending me into oblivion.

I bounce on her hand, her long thick digits curling perfectly inside of my core, spilling cum all over her palm, dripping down onto her thighs. she feels so unbelievably good, her moaning right next to my ear, feeling pleasure just from watching and fucking me, her sounds continuing to impossibly turn me on.

"gonna cum on my fingers, doll? wanna make a mess in my lap?" her voice breathy and raspy, questions sounding more like a demand.

I mumble an affirmative response, something I doubt she can even make out properly, a dark chuckle in my ear at my incoherence. her lips trail down my neck, placing sloppy markings across my collar, lifting my top up again and feeling her hot tongue lap rhythmically against my nipple. her hand spread wide to capture my boobs, sucking both buds into her mouth and brushing her teeth down against them, switching between flicking her tongue and biting down on my hardened nipples.

the sensations drive me into a blinding release of ecstasy, my eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open, screaming out in complete and utter bliss as my pussy gushed around aeri's skillful hand, drenching the both of us. my head is thrown back while my hands claw at the woman holding me close, mouth still working on my chest, vibrations against my nipples from her moaning while she fucks me through my intense climax.

she gradually lessens the speed at which she thrusts into me, coming to a halt when she achingly slowly pulls her dripping fingers out of my leaking cunt and releases with a pop, cum flowing out with her digits. she drags her fingers across my slit, spreading my slick around the entire area, rubbing against my sensitive bundle of nerves. I thrash at the stimulation, the feeling too much for my body, too soon.

she pulls her hand back from my core, her mouth releasing from my chest so she can bring the hand up to her lips, sticking her tongue out and letting her fingers drag across it, licking up every drop of cum on her digits. even though my vision is hazy, the sight makes me gulp, feeling my center pulsate. I collapse onto her as she lets me fall into her neck, nose brushing against her nape. my body feels exhausted, her hands sliding under my sweater and wrapping her toned arms around me, hugging my limp figure while rubbing my back soothingly.

aeri kisses my shoulder, her lips mumbling against it, "good girl."

I bury my face into her warm neck, nuzzling my face against her skin as I try to regain my energy, resisting passing out. slowly, I drag my head away, resting my forehead against hers with my eyes still closed, relishing in the serenity for just a second.

I flutter my eyes open just enough to see her, a soft look on her face as she quietly asks on my lips, "are you okay, princess?"

her concern for me send butterflies erupting in my stomach, feeling so cared for, a contrast to her demeanor just a little while ago.

I sigh out a response of affirmation before breathing out, "one more..."

the two words ring in aeri's ears, the sweet look on her face shifting ominously.

"you mean it," it was more of a statement than a question.

I nod and a smirk spreads across her lips.

she pulls me up, sliding her shorts and panties down her legs, slipping your underwear off of me too, "good, because I'm throbbing like crazy and I need you to ease the ache."

aeri maneuvers our bodies until our legs are intertwined, holding me by my waist as my pussy hovers over hers. she slides her fingers up her slit, letting out a breathy sigh, before bringing her dripping digits up to my lips.

"taste what you've done," opening my mouth and sucking on her fingers, cleaning them of her delectable nectar.

she watches intently as my tongue works around her fingers, her eyes blown with desire and her wet lips stained red, slightly parted as I slowly blink up at her, meeting her stare.

"how fucking obedient, you just wanna be mine don't you? you're gonna love working for me, I'm gonna use you however I want and you'll enjoy it because you're mine, got it?" she growls, gripping my jaw with her fingers still in my mouth, pulling my face closer, "I own you y/n l/n."

"all yours..." I choke on her digits.

her hand slips from my face, returning to my waist and pulling me down to her pussy, guiding me to slide against her slippery core. moans drag out from both of our mouths, my forehead resting on hers, overstimulation still present in my body as our clits brush against each other, aeri grinding our cunts again. her fingers dig into my sides, sliding her pussy upwards to meet the grind of my hips. I reciprocate the motion, moving to meet her thrusts, our cunt juices mixing with one another.

the feeling is so orgasmic, panting onto each others lips as I fuck myself against her, the squelching sounds loud from our slippery centers. she cries moans onto my lips, threading my fingers through her soft dampened hair, massaging her head and pulling her into a messy makeout, swallowing her pleasurable noises. I suck on her tongue as she increases our pace, forcing my body to keep up with her grinding, her nails scratching my skin.

I release her tongue with a pop, her saliva coating my mouth as she groans out at every other thrust, "you feel- so fucking- good, ugh y/n!"

"aeri, aeri, aeri, aeri..." I chant her name incomprehensibly.

her speed becomes relentless, wanting more control as she lifts me up and pins me down against the sofa, my back against the plush cushions and hands falling from her hair, aeri's legs and entire body holding me down as she drills me harder. our cunts are impossibly slick, sliding against each other so pleasurably, our clits perfectly making out messily, wetness continuing to leak from our pussies. she brings her hand to grasp my thigh, hugging my leg to her body, the other hand grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling my head back. my hands clutch the material of her thin shirt, holding it hard enough to tear, not that anything other than aeri fucking me right now matters.

"I'm going fucking feral over this pussy, you're so perfect doll, you're all mine," she sounds so aggressive yet sexy as she ruins me.

the woman above me looks so strikingly other-worldly, the shine of her sweaty skin leaving her glowing in the faint lighting, her dampened hair flowing across her body, stray bangs sticking to her forehead, her strong arms gripping me possessively, her chest bouncing up and down so close to my heated face, her drenched and aching core slipping perfectly against mine. aeri uchinaga feels, looks, and is absolutely ethereal.

I feel my stomach tighten as her pace is unstoppable, so fast the couch even jerks from the movement. our moans are cries, screams of loud and complete bliss, her lips plump and hanging open, eyes rolled all the way back.

"I'm gonna fucking cum, I'm gonna fucking cum!" aeri cries with her raspy throat.

"please, please, cum with me!" I beg her, voice hoarse but audible, her eyes locking onto mine.

we stare into each other's eyes as we both burst, cum gushing from our pussies, squirting against our cunts. my vision goes blank and I see a blinding white light surge through my head, my body thrashing from the pleasure, the sensations causing screams to rip from my throat, hearing aeri groan just as delightfully. I feel our cum flow down my thighs, soaking my skirt and the cushion under us, unable to move regardless as my hands release their grip on her torn shirt.

I fall totally limp against the couch, aftershocks of the orgasm coursing through my body, making my entire figure jerk every so often. aeri collapses on top of me, carefully still, her hands releasing their tight grips on me, her head falling into the pillow I lay on, face against my cheek, her nose bumping my skin. her hot heavy gasps for air hit the side of my face as I bring my hand up to play with her hair, caressing her head.

suddenly, her arms slip under my sweater and wrap around my torso, lifting me up and flipping us over. the action makes me squeal, my limp body now resting on top of her thumping chest, breasts soft against mine. I melt into her warm embrace, feeling my body's exhaustion crawl over me, wanting to consume me into slumber. aeri starts her pleasant humming, vibrations from her chest transferring to mine, feeling my body ease and slowly succumb to sleep.

"my perfect girl, you're gonna be an amazing assistant, we're gonna work so well together," she whispers.

I hum in response and she pats my back, giving me approval to rest.

her hands caress me soothingly, kissing my forehead, "sleep with me, no one has to know."

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estrophore · 1 year ago

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Signalis Post (barely coherent thought vomit)

So I finished signalis on Monday and i think ive just about recovered enough for me to make a gush post about it on tumblr dot com, which i think i have to do cause i dont think any other game has really hit me as hard as this one. Spoilers obvs.

Being pre-transion, with that associated depression and closing off from oneself, ive always found it difficult to get out my feelings, even in private with just myself, and yet signalis has filled me throughout with its beautiful romantic melancholy and left me genuinely sobbing for the gay robot and her space girlfriend (almost worried that if id played this game on estrogen it might actually have just killed me on the spot). the only other times i can think of where i really cried were playing We Know The Devil near the beginning of the year, which really fkin hit the part of me that struggles to accept myself, and that time i rewatched the last episode of she-ra after reading the ‘Word War Etheria’ fanfic, which brings the characters so much more to life i fell for them all over again.

Signalis is a game that calls back to a lot of classic horror like resident evil and silent hill, which i havent got round to playing any of yet, but i think nostalgia works both ways sometimes and i’ll be playing them sooner now. sometimes horror gets stereotyped as all death and violence, some games fill themselves with skulls and corpses, and big ugly monsters and basically shout ‘DEATH!’ in your face repeatedly and it all just comes off as a bit garish and ridiculous and not actually very scary really. Signalis sits at the other end of that scale (with some of my other fav horror games like soma, cry of fear) where its environs are most usually just… quiet. Still. Muffled. Sad. just as often as theres tension or creeping fear because of this i find theres a strange kind of comfort too. Maybe its just that in most other genres of games theres so much of music, UI elements, pickups and interactibles with vibrant design. Here, theres room for your mind to just occupy the space. A soft fog. A dimly lit room. An empty train. Snow out a window. Liminal spaces that dont expect anything from you.

Signalis is a game thats just simply, unapologetically gay, and i dont think i would have been quite so invested in Elster and Ariane’s relationship if they were a straight couple. Its why representation is important, if art’s way for us to explore our emotions then its important to have media that we can relate to. Even Adler’s role isnt typically masculine. Our replika characters are manufactured, designed for certain roles in the base. Notes from the tough Stars and Storchs in the shooting range, the dollish Eules with the fairy lights and music player in the dorm. I couldnt help but think of groups of Eules sat around chatting, together, and im yearning for that feeling of togetherness, of understanding a friend that closely. I somehow missed the couple in the mineshaft (next playthough, ill find you v_v ). Despite the harshness of life in the Eusan nation (especially for the gestalts) the characters in it are defined by their feelings of belonging and hope. With the obvious parallels to east germany, i think of posters of cosmonauts and space travel from the time. Propaganda, sure but also made with the genuine belief in something greater. When the events of the game take this away, well, we find the last Kolibri, whod rather lose herself than lose her [ah. Im not sure theres a word here to properly describe the relationship they embody]. Its a game defined by loneliness.

We dont lie up at night scared by some corrupted android. We arent stuck with horror at the flesh everywhere, not on its own. We lie awake thinking about Elster and Ariane’s love for each other, the horror of their decline, the futility of trying to hold on forever. Its existential horror done perfectly. It shows an ending postponed and stretched far beyond its limits, and so squarely reminds you that you do, in fact, have to die one day. You’ll break down. One day you’ll say your last words to the people you love and you wont even know you have. Ariane’s final few diaries arrive with the full force of the narrative behind it, like a spear through my heart. For the record, I got the promise ending. Im still sad. It's a game about raging desperately against an unfair ending. I might think about this game for the rest of my life. I would sincerely say its an artistic masterpiece, by the sure definition of video games as art.

I like that the story leaves a lot open and abstract. I think it makes the emotional themes takes centre stage more. And i havent had nearly enough time to sift through it and come up with my own takes, we’ll need a few more playthroughs for that. And theres so much more to say that cant go in just these few paragraphs! Signalis is a game about two girls who had to run away from everything to find someone they belonged with. The universe may be cold and bleak, but you have to try, you might just find something beautiful, even if it doesnt last forever. I think if anything, we should all have the chance to find love and happiness like that, and we shouldnt have abandon a world that doesnt work for us to do it.

#signalis #lgbt #lesbian #long ass emotional ramble post #fuck im nearly crying again #horror #liminal #signalis spoilers #elster #ariane yeong

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pwblogarchive · 4 months ago

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June 2007

June 4, 2007

goodbye the longest year of my life.

sometimes i want to blow my head but not in a hottopic kind of way.

i am global warming.

i am toxic.

sometimes i am glad i saved everything for a rainy day.

i am a wish.

i am under your skin.

i love you and life:

separate but never equal.

fuck it.

its all okay.

"Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run..."

posted by xo at 8:05 PM

June 6, 2007

“its easy to get older not so much wiser”

"pooh"

"yes, piglet"

"nothing, i just wanted to be sure of you"...

posted by xo at 8:40 AM

June 7, 2007

“fuck the palm readers, i love mirror breakers.”

i have an obsession with sitting inside a confessional in church and hearing someone else spill their guts for once.

id almost take an oath for it.

get me out of new york.

this city only gets me up to making bad decisions.

love, the last boy.

posted by xo at 10:40 PM

"the christian in christian dior, damn they dont make them like they used to anymore..."

if i bashed your head in how good would the secrets be that poured out.

posted by xo at 4:00 PM

June 9, 2007

“late night snack”

the light splashes in and out. its almost violent. everything rational inside of me tells me that its the dull white of a voicemail. but my eyes are playing tricks on me. i see it purple textured velvet. the tv is blaring whatever. i can see light is sneaking in the cracks everywhere of this suite. like vermin. take a vote, the eyes have it. there is too much space here. between me and everything else in this room. i wish i had a habit bad or not just to pass the time. just trying to fight the big black sadness.

June 9, 2007

“sic transit itum”

Theres an opposite to deja vu. They call it jamais vu. Its when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first time. Everybody is s stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.

This isn't learning from my mistakes anymore so much as it is damage control. I might as well be trying to paint a house that's on fire.

Posted by xoat 11:33 PM

June 11, 2007

“counting sheep and you.”

tour life has got my fingers spitting from a pornographed philosophers mind. girls with bruises in designer patterns. too full off the diet pills to be hungry for iceburg lettuce and water lite when it shows up. i trapped you in my head a long time ago. i am a treasure chest filled with trash. two orders: one near tears and one beer tears. just put em on my tab.

dont you dare tell me about true fucking love. i spit and punched and blood for it. and now i want to sleep inside of it.

June 12, 2007

“cantsleepcantsleepcantsleep”

dont you feel bad for the suicidal cat thats stuck with 9 lives.

my head only goes from zero to rage.

like a domesticated animal giving into instinct.

carved our names into a tree

and i dont care that i saw it first in some movie.

i think ill always go back and see if it sticks.

i feel like the santa maria. like i got there just after the discovery.

heads like this are gonna go extinct.

posted by xo at 5:53 AM

June 14, 2007

“lullabye.”

everybody is dropping like flies.

the truth is i am a slave to my head and my thoughts, not the other way around.

i am the hand up the skirt of this moment. over underwear, under pants.

under medicated. underwhelmed.

me and you in a not so private corner.

duke it out with our lips and teeth.

ill find the love if its there between your cavities.

dust it off.

its a cold hard ride back from where ive been.

what ive seen.

and what ive done.

or how ive come undone.

apples that make your teeth bleed

love that makes my heart coma-

keep careful count of your tears in that corner-

the market is shit.

they arent going for what they used to.

keep em in a jar-

bury them in a wine cellar.

so you can remember when you felt like just a madman.

im a trust junkie.

i need a fix.

i have so much i want to say. none of it is eloquent or poetic- referencing change and belief- lies and betrayal. how sometimes this ride doesnt feel fun anymore, when the press is controlling it. i will post when i have formulated all of the thoughts. i am tired of constantly defending this, its enough to defend it to the world- but to defend it to believers has drained me. i am only human, a kind of lousy one at that. i am 1/4 of this thing that has felt magical to me for so long. i dont want to lose it. i hope this makes some sense.

i hope i am a boomerang on its way back not some stone sinking in the sea.

thank you to everyone who has stood beside this and me- in both the light and the dark. it means more than a handshake or hug or song,,,

on a good note. the video felt genuinely fun to make. so thank you for taking part in it. the smiles are real.

goodnight.

posted by xo at 11:49 PM

June 17, 2007

“i may be just a dime store prophet. but youre a dollar store whore.”

so i guess i am on the up. thunder on runways cant even kill the boredom. the tips of my fingers bruised from the letters on the typewriter. but if feels so much more final than this. and that is why i love it. and i said the last time i was put in handcuffs it was over a can of spraypaint. she said 'someday i want to spraypaint with you". and that is why i love her. in a backyard, lying on the couch on a sunday kind of way. one that is not explained or thought out. but runs up the back of your legs to the back of your head and crashes out of my mouth whenever you show up. what keeps your head together when you feel the tilt and spin of the world. what keeps those club jaws grinding in between the trips to the bathroom. the best week never. theyre taking stabs at me while im leaning and yawning, but sometimes YOU get through. pinpricks become blackholes and i feel my moods pulled into them. whats up with my obsession with your obsessions. been writing so much lately the paper is starting to add up. theres a part of me that wants to take a match to it sometimes late at night- the same part inside that cant walk next to balconies for fear that i am going to jump off of them.

i can make a mess of anything. but its strange to say when a stranger can bring you peace. you just swaying in the heat of the meet and greet. a face and a voice i dont know. just a tap on the shoulder and a "keep your chin up" from you. but there was a kindness there that brought me back. thank you.

June 19, 2007

so obvious but: i fucking hate this sugar free low carb diet world. i want the wild fucking west. i want love in handcuffs. i want more scars. i dont want this fucking future. meth bake sales to lower global warming. sweat shop work to burn calories. i hope this ship burns before it sinks. i hope this planes air goes bad before it crashes. i dont want this to be an affair anymore, i want to walk down the aisle with catastrophe. lets go to hell just for the weekend. your happiness is making me miserable. waste the time of my life. and if that mocking bird wont sing, im gonna buy you a diamond ring.

i only feel in love on the stage and on the side of a pillow. everything in between just makes me wish myself to pieces. please dont put me back together, keep me in a box under your bed.

June 20, 2007

i hate explaining my own interpretations to people. id rather you come up with your own- but this one seems to be pretty glaring....

there is a distinct difference between the idea "seasons change, but people dont" and the idea "everyone changes". this difference is simply the connotations of the two. in the former: the idea is brought forth that there are certain parts of you that are inherently there. forever. whether they are a part of your DNA or how you were raised- they are so deep and solidly rooted they cannot change. to me these are your ideals, your morality, your internal monologue. they remain constant though are defined differently as your mind and heart mature. to simplify, people who are kind have something switched on within them that will not change. on the other extreme malicious people will always be malicious. not to say there isnt gray area between the two- where someone who is kind can act maliciously and vice versa. obviously there are more rare examples where something can impact someone in such a tremendous way that it will cause a deep change in them. these remain constant through celebrity, through tragedy, through happiness, through loss. i can feel certain things in myself and ways that i know i will always feel- no matter what else changes around me. if you read my actual diary entries from when i was 14 to now, while the language and subject matter has changed- and hopefully has gotten a bit better. my subconscious impacting me and my decisions seems to remain faithful. however, what was meant by the latter "everyone changes, i used to be tiny", is the idea of growing up. honestly, i am not who i was a year ago or 5 years ago or 10 years ago. i think i would hate myself if i never changed. this is an experiment more than anything. if new cultures, people, and art didnt impact me and change me than this would be fraudulent. we expect any of our fans who have been with us from the beginning have grown and changed. i hope most of these changes are for the better, though i know i am human and make mistakes. sometimes i turn right when i should have turned left. but anything you loved or hated about me from the beginning have not changed- these are the things that make us each different from each other and either magnetize or polarize from others.

June 22, 2007

“the AMERICAN dayDREAMer - die-a-tribe”

when they rip the tickets i hope im on the ride with you. sleepless in seattle and pretty much everywhere else- wont bore you with the details, but actually i probably will. you dont have to be a train to come off track. dont have to have feathers to flee the coop. i dont gotta tell you about my adventures, i keep them in my head and forget them and remember them every once in awhile. i watch them on projector screens while you are talking about your magazine or countdown. were flypaper baby- but nothings sticks. molded from teflon and porcelain. doesnt take much shining around for you to want to get back under that rock you crawled out from. i found a point when i was searching for pointlessness. i found a love when i was looking for madness. gonna save your sweat for when we get to heaven. autocratic hearts and throats- tongues loving on the skin and words- listening too carefully and robbing them of their beauty. you only think im blooming when im wilting on the outside. dying to be dearly forgotten, not wrongly remembered. florescent yellow in the toilet bowl. i love holding strangers hands, pulses matching, beating just off the p.a. speakers. you dont have to sell me on how this isnt real, cause my guts are whats in deep not my head or my heart. sometimes i get the feeling when i walk into a room like im in some movie from the forties where ive been shipwrecked and marooned on a desert island, only to return to a life that is no longer mine. or maybe just a raft adrift, except i slept through the s.o.s. calls. the caveman frozen in ice analogy works as well, only i am too lazy to transcribe it. im projecting. im bobbing and weaving. im deflecting. only cos i want to mean more than all of this. i lost it at woodrow and nichols, brakes ground to my teeth. just a kid strung out on neon lights

June 26, 2007

dear man in the mirror: get over yourself.

i love it when people wonder how its gonna end.

my right hand is fucked.

boxers fracture im pretty sure and a cut down the front that we super glue every night.

if i shake you yr hand with my left thats why.

im clumsy-

with both actions and words.

what happens in vegas stay in vegas except for when brendon hit me with a bowling ball.

deaths just the other bookend on this thing, so who cares.

posted by xo at 12:28 AM

June 28, 2007

The world is your oyster, what does that mean? That I'm just grinding sand waiting to be sucked down by box dye blondes and chased with hynotik. .... dumb-luck, but there's no such thing as smart luck. Think It got us kicked out of vegas. Happy as a clam but how happy can clams be? Dreaming of being steamed or robbed of their only worldly possession, pearls, sounds like a total soccer mom fantasy- only with upscale spas and mugger fantasies. I am a starfish waiting to regenerate a point. Till then, I am kind of pointless. I got a bad rap for not caring but I still pay taxes and wear my seat-belt in back seats- though I'm considering changes. I am a fixer-upper. Feeling the buzz but too far off the hive for any of the other bees to get it. And man I gotta tell you, the years are like friends in your old hometown. They stop being so friendly. They only want to reminisce. And no matter what they keep moving and changing you whether you want them to or not. The doctor says I need to stop talking with my fist and do more talking with my mouth. I told him I was never too great at that either- that it was usually my mouths talking that had to get my fist involved in the conversation. He said well then I had better start throwing a good left or hope I can play bass one handed. Neither seems too reasonable right now. Thinking maybe I should just stop all together. I order every movie in hotel rooms just so I don't feel alone. Its a very home alone moment for me, you know without the holiday music and cute culkin looks, but I'm hoping you are catching my drift anyway. Yes, for those who wonder there are other journals online. Sometimes I kind of leave bread-crumbs to get home to them for you. Sometimes I just space out. I also have a pen and paper diary and some letters and what not that I have been typing on my typewriter. I've been working on other visual art too, nothing I like well enough to show anyone. Its more for my own piece of mind. Drive, fuck, and sleep safe. I'd like to know that you awaken in the morning with out a headache or blurry eyes. Love is in the air, just get ourselves the right equipment to grab it. Its like moths headed for the brightest light, which aint me. But I'm ready to sweat and run and get there. And just cause you got a scar on your wrist or a charcoal stomach, were supposed to get eachother? Cause I don't really even get me. I'm too busy calling everyone else crazy- in these late slurred debates on how everyone else is not exactly like us- to worry about you calling me crazy. Tho all the other rhymes for crazy work on me lazy, hazy, etc.

someone has some great pictures of this past week. if i find any, ill post some.

June 28, 2007

from pete's friends or enemies blog

June 28, 2007

“the pretend”

i never really appreciate the compliments people give me. i feel like people say them because they feel like they have to- "youre hot"- except in my head i dont see myself that way so it doesnt mean a thing. "you played great tonight"- except i probably didnt because its not really my thing. "i love your words"- except they only make sense to me out of patricks mouth. "i love you"- but you wouldnt if you knew me. and so on.

but the other day my friend told me: "you have an incredible sense of the pretend". and it made me shake. just in the way that its all i believe. i dont care too much for the ins and outs of the world we are inside. i like the one in my head far better. it is not chronological or pragmatic. but it meant alot to me.

as did this...

so i cant fully remember writing this entry. that is because my brain is scattered and resets all of the time. the only thing i save room for are faces and memories. maybe it is a collection of entries. but apparantly someone cared enough to remember or patch together an entry from a year ago... so thank you (i think they made little changes or additions here and there). its funny because i am in vancouver all over again, it rings so much more true now.

"and like florence nightingale and nurses through history. we fall in love with those were protecting and curing. we dream big and then wake up everyday and hunch over computer screens. and everytime we let our fingers go it amounts to a little more than the worlds smallest violin paying just for you. here i am half asleep between vancouver and salt lake city. can't remember the last time i had a conversation with you that wasn't from between the dotted lines of the highway. i don't want sheep or parrots. i feel like we have a vested interest in each other. it's love of sorts. you were there in the beginning, you've stuck around when everyone else climbed aboard, i hope you're there when it's gone. for all the times we've come off course, you have always served as a compass. steady. unforgiving. at times hard to find. but you were always there. this probablly isn't worth your time to read. but as long as you do we'll keep playing small, secret shows. we'll keep writing this. we'll keep ignoring what they say. this is we- everyone- the haters, the newbies, the so, the ckk, ock. a collective [[sigh of relief]]. everyone always asks what's the cure of growing up? this is it. it's you. the smiling faces screaming and 'doging' security in the front row. the kid that waits outside after the show until their hands are blue just to say hi. don't ever let me fucking forget it. we don't deserve this. but now that we got it. we will do our best to keep it like a kiss in the corner of our mouths. for our heads to your speakers, to your ears, to your mouths, to you, your fingers, to us, to our mistakes, to our heads and back. the new songs are coming. what if for one moment we became everyone we dreamed we could be? there is a buzzing from outside of this darkened room. as though if i walked down the hallway past their sleeping faces, red in the warmth of the afternoon. i would walk into the first day of my life. light gleaming off the windshield- like the wizard of oz after the color washes over everything. like i could start all over again- only with the same faces that are imprinted on my heart forever. and my same bed. and dogs. and ex- loves. and friends. save your troubles for another day, they wern't at the end of the hallway. baby boy, you're too busy writing tragedy to notice. we're shaping up to do big things. and you're nothing special. except.. what if you are? "

posted by xo at 8:01 PM

June 29, 2007

as did this...

June 30, 2007

I have a new girlfriend

The iphone.

posted by xo at 4:46 PM

#fall out boy #pete wentz #livejournal

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chimeracreations-art · 2 years ago

Text

GOAT Report: January 2023

Going to try and start doing like little post month reports as each one goes on, just for a bit of funzys and also to keep ya'll in the loop. so i guess the first thing we talk about is the good stuff.

So what were some of the positive thing i think I'm pretty happy about that i did or started in January.

- well we one thing i think i can say so far is iv just been really happy and having a fun time creating videos on YouTube, started doing this last year in December with a video on one of the BattleTech novels iv read and since no one in my local group is reading the current book as they there are just gamers or are not in the current sluff as there reading though the dark age book atm and so i just wanted to get my thoughts out there and people have been digging it. it also help people find out what what about some stuff too as i talked about some of the Kickstarter info and what not. going to try an shoot for one video a mouth atm as i really like reading a book or sourcebook and talking bout and learning more about BattleTech lore as i get further and further into it.

- my general skill development and work on trying to make different kinds of stuff has been pretty good, as my last few YCH have been looking very very good to me. i feel extra proud of the mommies and cookies, Casual Jerk-day and Mobile Fursuits G-witch Stickers all came out, the lighting and shading on all these as well some cartooning and use of perspective and pose work all made me real happy, same with the tank and the aliens design wip too (will be working on those soon so expect some adopts in a bit). over all just real happy with the quality bump iv had with those bits of work.

Starting getting plans set up to start an etsy store were you can buy stickers and prints later this year.

- the last thing i think I'm real happy with is the launch of my patreon as iv got 2 cool folk over there and i feel real happy about it.

the neutral - my out put for this month was ok, i got all my YCH finished and most of my commission done but iv got a few left over private commissions that still need to be done along with a design com for a friend that'll be working on this month. alongside that i ended up grabbing a room for FWA which while good put a dent into my profits this month but hopeful will pay off later down the road and also be fun. what kinda stinks is i got an extra room for some people and since it was a rush get it now or no room and then we'd have to do the drive up stuff i got the rooms and the other two ended up not being able to make it so atm I'm debating and talking with some other friends who might be able to buy the room or cancel the extra room's reservation as I'll only lose 187 buck at that point instead of the 600 and some.

- kinda fail a bit on streaming recently as iv just been to tired or sleepy to stream, not the worst thing since streaming is something i do to try and give myself a specific date and time to play games and get my dumb brain to not be in uber work mode all the time.

- sleep schedule good back to poop again.

- beside those it just kinda been hating the weather here in Georgia atm, cold as shit and rainy, wish i could just sit outside for a bit just so i could have some place outside the house to relax for a bit but it awful to do that atm since it been so cold, hopefully thing will get a little tolerable this month were i can at least feel ok sitting outside with a jacket as i do like sitting in our backyard to eat lunch or try and watch thing instead of inside the house.

The bad or the things i need to work on.

- kinda was a lazy ass and took a bit to get the one of the appointment to start getting my teeth fixed so that kinda sucked but i got the first one set up and so hopefully I'll have the holes in my teeth looked at and then done up soon and fixed real soon.

- still not happy with not working to much on my own projects and just wanting to create more ME stuff as i go but i might do some thing to help with that and hopefully the patreon will as well. like my NSFW stuff is good if still in my opinion could be developed further (if i had the time every YCH and doodle would probably have a fucking background and nice lighting like the mommies and cookies one, casue fuck do i just want to develop some of the idea more and add to like the idea of the piece, some would still be just void background but still i want to put more time into individual pics.)

- looking at house/apartments has started and is good but thing are not looking the best atm with prices and then the cost of amenities, a few spots have gone down a little but everything that not in an area were people don't get murder and others a lot is a bit rough or hard to get even with roommate splitting the costs . so while I'm hopeful at looking at places and eventually moving out, they are sorta still pissing me off a bit and might result in me raising prices along with my want to just do more things for myself.

- the discord is taking way longer to get set up then i thought and mix that with most of my time be put towards come has delayed it way more than i wanted to but im going to try and get some time into making some progress on it but ATM i make an announcement when it be ready to open.

and that all my immediate thought on looking back on January not a bad month not an amazing month ether just simple fairy plain work-month basically.

also if you didn't see them or know about stuff here links to my YouTube and patreon

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC6.....1HTbgxVMDLU1eA

#text post #life #month in review #thoughts

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stevesbipanic · 2 years ago

Note

ok ok ok ive seen a lot of rockstar eddie and bodyguard steve (and dont get me wrong i LOVE that) BUT-hear me out- Rockstar Eddie Munson and his private jet pilot Steve Harrington 👀

Another awesome prompt from you ❤️

Steve had spent his whole life wanting to be free.

The life his parents had designed for him felt suffocating also too tight suits and stuff dinners and hopes for college just to work for his father, to be like his father.

The only thing Steve had liked about being a rich kid growing up was flying to new places. No, not going to new places, new places was just new people his parents wanted to meet. But flying, Steve felt no worries whenever he looked out the window at the clouds.

After his parents cut him off and put of their lives when he didn't get into college, no matter how much money they tried throwing at the problem, Steve had saved up working retail job after retail job with Robin until he had enough money for flight school.

He can remember clearly his first solo flight, he felt so free up in the air, nothing but him and the clouds.

Now 25, he flies private jets, or, more specifically, one private jet.

Eddie Munson had kept his promise of running out of Hawkins the moment that diploma touched his fingers. Him, Jeff and Freak got a dingy apartment in Indianapolis, working odd jobs for a year and playing in dingier bars on the weekend until Gareth joined them the following year. Then a few months after Gareth joined them full-time they got discovered at one of their gigs.

Soon they were signed, releasing their first album which blew up. After that it was a blur of concerts and touring and more albums. Now 26, Eddie Munson is a household name.

Eddie hated the tour bus lifestyle, always cramped and felt like his trailer but with Freak's snores and every pothole in the US to wake him up. Once the band was big enough, Eddie knew what he wanted, a jet.

The problem though was a lot of pilots were homophobic and Eddie had recently came out with support from the majority of his fans. The band went through many pilots before meeting Steve.

Eddie didn't recognise Steve at first, it had been a few years since he'd graduated and more since King Steve had been in his view. Steve recognised Eddie though, not often you forget the guy that made you learn the word bisexual.

Steve was kind now, softer, free. One drunken night Steve confessed how he hated being King Steve, how he wished he'd been better to Eddie. Eddie told him none of that mattered now, Steve was better now and that was what was important.

Steve and Eddie grew closer, sometimes Eddie would sit in the cockpit (a word he loved joking about) with Steve, telling him stories about their tours. Steve would share stories about working with Robin and the kids (who Eddie missed and was glad to hear were doing well) and flight school.

During the times between tours they'd talk on the phone, Steve bemoaning about annoying clients and Eddie telling him about the new songs he was writing.

"The woman kept trying to come into the cockpit,stop laughing you should be used to that word, E's, anyway I swear the husband was ready to kill me by the time we landed."

"The ladies just can't resist you, sweetheart."

"I just wish you were on tour all the time, I like flying with you."

"What if you just have me as a client?"

"You don't need to fly all the time, Eds."

"I want to fly with you all the time, Stevie."

Steve was 27 and he only flew Eddie Munson around. He didn't need to fly on tour all the time but after an incident with a client Eddie didn't want Steve flying anyone else and just paid him full-time, he could afford it.

"He's your flight sugar daddy."

"Never say that again, Robs."

Steve lived in an apartment near Eddie's now, not that he spent much time there, he mainly hung out at Eddie's. Movie nights, smoke sessions, Eddie showing Steve new songs, Eddie not admitting a lot of songs were about Steve.

It all came to a head one night. The two men were slightly tipsy, sitting on Eddie's balcony looking out at the city.

"I never thought I'd be here."

"If anyone deserves it it's you, Eds."

"I have a confession. 'Burning Skies' is about you."

Steve turned towards Eddie smiling softly.

"I know Eds, and I know 'Ticket to Ride' is too, and 'Death by Gravity', you're not subtle and unless you know any other people that fly around all day."

"But, but they're love songs, Stevie."

"I know Eds, I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."

Eddie was now smiling back at Steve, glancing down at his lips. Neither man knows who leant in first but finally, after three years of friendship, they kissed softly under the glow of the city lights.

"Does this mean I get to see your cockpit?"

"I will break up with you right now!"

They both laughed knowing Steve wouldn't, Steve may have felt free in the air, but he felt alive with Eddie by his side.

#ty for the prompt ❤️#stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things season 4 #pilot steve #rockstar eddie #ficlet #steddie ficlet #fluff

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afro-hispwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Mystery Woman pt.2

Post The Batman 2022

bruce wayne x black!amazonian! reader

Summary- Bruce has figured out a deeper secret about you and sends it to your job, so you decide its time for your other lives to meet

Warnings- mentions of the events that happened in the 1800, Bruce a little stalkerish, bruce likes thighs;)

Taglist- @pop-rocks-and-skittles

Comment or send me a message to join:)

pt. 1 pt. 3

Bruce was so glad his computer had facial recognition. He placed your face on the recognition and began it. He let it run for a little, small articles popped up from the museum but that was really it. That was until he realized the year dates started getting lower and lower and the pictures got older and older. They eventually stopped at 1856. It was a picture of a group of men and woman and there she was.

Y/n Prince in the middle. Bruce looked at the others.

Goddamn it's Harriet Tubman.

Bruce was even more confused. How was that even possible? Did she have a family member who looks exactly like her? Is that even her? The pictures blurry but he knows that face anywhere. Thats when he saw something silver and then something else round.

A sword and a shield.

What. The. Fuck?

Its similar to the one he saw at the party. Bruce saves the picture and decided to just send it to her. He found her email and typed a message and sent it.

You were currently inspecting a new roman artifact when an email dinged on the computer. You set the artifact down and opened the email. A picture began loading and went it finished you felt our heart stop.

Who are you? Read the message. You had that picture hidden away, no one has access to it. The email used to send the picture to you was private but you could get an idea of who it is.

"Oh Mr. Wayne." You sigh and start to type a email to send back.

Lets meet tonight. But I want Batman not Bruce Wayne.

*location attached*

I would use your little bat light but your police man friend may come. See you tonight xo

You sent the message and sighed hoping it was a good idea. Most people would refuse to say anything about their past. But you had nothing to hide, you were rather proud of everything you've been able to do.

You waited on the rooftop, sword and shield in hand. The wind was a little chilly so you had worn the large black coat you've owned for years. You heard footsteps behind you making you draw the sword up.

"Its me." You hear a deep voice and turn around.

"Vengeance." You bring the sword down and look him up and down. His eyes are on your face but they flicker up to see the headband that seemed to have wings as front. You take a few steps to get closer to him, and you didn't miss the way his eyes trailed down.

"Ive never seen those boots before." He says and you smile and bring your hands up to the hook of the coat and undid it. As the coat came off all Bruce saw was bare shoulders so he diverted his haze away.

"Im not naked." He hears you giggle and he looks up and is taken a back by the attire. He first noticed the head of a red bird that sat above your chest, but it wasn't just a normal bird, it was a Phoenix. His eyes went lower to your torso and saw the rest was gold with tiny black designs and symbols.

"What are you wearing?"

"My armor?"

"It barley covers anything."

"Its resistance against a lot of things like bullets and fire, just like yours I assume." You sit down on a AC unit.

"What about the rest of you?" He swirls his fingers and gestures to your exposed skin.

"My skins fire resistant and im skilled enough to not let a bullet touch me." Bruce didn't show any emotion but he didn't believe you. "What need me to to get shot at or walk through fire?" He didn't say anything making you scoff.

"Why were you in that picture from the 1800's?"

"Why are trying to get information on me?" You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms.

"I asked you first." He says and you sigh and stand up. You grab the rope from your waist and Bruce clenches his fists. But before he could react the rope was around his body and glowing gold. "What is this?" He struggles but them groans as it gets tighter.

"This is the Lasso of Hestia and it compels you to tell the truth. Now. Why are are getting information on me?" You tighten your grip on the rope. Bruce tenses slightly but his mind is slowly letting go.

"You were so beautiful at the party and- and your thighs... shit sorry." Bruce struggles again, his voice was even breaking, and he feels pain even through the suit. "I saw your sword and then when you took the drive I knew there was something so I just decided to look you up." You were satisfied with his answer and it even shocked you. You drew the rope away from and he immediately cleared his throat and straighten himself.

He was so embarrassed.

"I guess I owe you a explanation." You say and he nods. "Ill keep it short. Ok. Well im Princess Y/n daughter of Queen Hippolyta of Themyscira. I ended up in your world after I ventured to far on a fishing boat. Anyone who leaves Themyscira can never return and as hard as it was i had to find land and when I did I had to adapt to that time. Soon I found out I was in the 1800's. I learned the hard way but when I caught on to how horrible this world treated people of different color I knew I had to help them. I kept myself out of papers and pictures, besides the one you saw. I've been in this world ever since."

He didn't say a word, trying to process all the information that was just thrown at him.

"How are you still alive?"

"Immortality was gifted to the Amazons."

"Amazons?"

"Women of Themyscira, its an all woman's island actually, should have said that first." You laughed awkwardly, Bruce was still processing when you heard a scream from below. You grab the sword and shield and held it up, ready to attack.

You both ran to the ledge and saw a young girl being grabbed by two men. "I got this." You jumped off the building and Bruce tried to grab you but saw you landing on the ground safely in an instance.

The two men stopped their actions when you landed. They immediately dropped the girl onto the floor and pulled out guns.

"Who the fuck are you?" Asked one and undid the safety.

"Just someone who's going to save that girl."

"You better drop your weapons." A dark voice appears behind them and they turn around to see the Batman. The two men looked shocked to see him there and slightly intimidated but hid it with humor.

"Oh shit the Bats cant handle everything and had to get a partner." One laughed and Batman cocked his head to the side.

"Something tell me your going to wish that I am the only one here." The two men couldn't help but stare back at you, then tricking their eyes to the shield and sword in hand.

"Whatever lets just shoot them." The other said and before Bruce could react a bullet deflected off of his chest. He immediately looked up at you, fearing the worst, but just saw your arm up to your face. Metal was sparking off the bracelet and he then sees the bullet fall to the ground.

Bruce was extremely confused. How the hell did you just block a bullet that quick? But it wasn't time to ask questions, he immediately tackled the one closet to him and you hit the other in the head with your shield, knocking them out instantly. The girl was crying hard and you ran to her and kneeled next to her.

"Hey everything's okay, they wont bother you again." The girl looked up at you and nodded. "Is there somewhere safe I could take you."

"I was on my way to my mothers house, its just a few blocks away." She says and slowly stands up. She looks over to Batman and nods. "Thank you, thank you both." Once she was gone you placed the shield behind your back and smiled at him.

“Believe me now?” Bruce has to fight the urge to smirk.

“Getting there.” He says then takes out his grappling hook and shoots it. “See you around.” He was gone, you heard him run off on top of the roof and you smiled.

“Partner.”

a/n- sorry for the delay on all my works, I’ve been stressed these last few weeks. But hmmm is Bruce going to consider a partnership???

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x black reader #x black reader #the batman 2022

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og-danny-dorito · 4 years ago

Text

{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

- it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

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samwrights · 4 years ago

Text

When You Wake

I literally cannot believe I wrote this. This was originally started to celebrate Yaku’s birthday (happy belated, my love), and to satisfy the requests for a Noya/Yaku threesome. Uh, don’t come for me. I couldn’t find inspiration in the normal hq world, so we’re making it weird. If y’all thought Between the Lines was long, this monstrosity is 13.2k words. 13,200 words, with a shameful, side amount that is smut. Literally, this is all just plot.

ear candy list is, surprisingly, on the smaller side.

⤞ Revenga - System of A Down ⤞ Violent Pornography - System of A Down ⤞ Question! - System of A Down

pairing: Yaku/Reader/Noya

w a r n i n g s//TW: rape, murder, blood consumption, mentions of getting roofied, gore, blood from wounds, supernatural AU, revenge, temporarily mute reader, reader is converted to a vampire without consent, dubcon, death, spitroasting, dirty talk, senpai kink. PLEASE read through these warnings over and over until it is clear to you that this is not going to be an easy read. The reader literally goes on a revenge spree. ⤞ THIS. IS NOT. AN EASY. READ.

Now that you have been thoroughly warned, enjoy.

The way media and films and television glorified and romanticized college parties never could have prepared you for the fateful encounter in the alleyway on a muggy August evening. Primarily, college parties were depicted as fun—drunk nights on the weekends with your girlfriends, maybe hook up with that cute boy from chemistry that somehow ended up with you grinding on him on the dance floor. Though, in some genres, college parties end up with the protagonist roofied and raped and follows how the heroine spirals and recovers. But it only was supposed to happen in the movies, right?

It wasn’t supposed to end with you halfway to death, knocking on Hell’s door with blood pooling around your lifeless body in a barely lit, bleak alleyway. It wasn’t supposed to end with warbles of light fading in and out of your vision as cars passed you by, unknowing there was someone in the alleyway between a closed down butcher shop and a florist who had already gone home for the evening. You were only in your early twenties with only two more years of university to compete—it wasn’t supposed to end yet.

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“I think she’s too far gone, Yaku. We were too late.”

The voices swirling around you were unfamiliar, or at least from what you could gather. In your condition, it was impossible to discern them in the first place—were they even real voices? They sounded entirely too angelic from what you could process in your catatonic state. Maybe they weren’t; maybe death had taken you without your knowledge and the jury that decided whether or not your soul would ascend to heaven was passing their judgment on you.

“I can save her, Noya.” One of the voices, presumably this Yaku character snarls back with urgency. It is the last thing you hear before your limp body is pulled from the concrete. The movement, regardless of how delicate, causing more blood to rush from your open wounds and draining any ounce of consciousness from your mind. “You mind trying to collect the fallout?”

Nishinoya, though shaking his head, gives a subtle grin that cannot be seen in the dead of the night. He pulls out a large mason jar from the satchel he’s carrying and places the mouth of the jar where blood is pouring out profusely from a knife wound. The man collecting the blood knew entirely too well that once his mate sets his mind to something, there was no changing it. Not that it served as a recurring issue; if anything, Noya was grateful for Yaku’s stubbornness considering it was that exact trait of his that had given the former his second chance at life.

The two of them move swiftly, trying to make it back to their hidden mansion, that was quite a distance away, in secret. Yaku is doing all that he can to make sure not to disturb your body so as not to open any wounds further that could force you to bleed out and meet the grim reaper. He wasn’t a very pleasant creature, but that was a story for another day. At the same time, Nishinoya is almost fighting to keep the same steadfast pace while simultaneously holding the now half full mason jar just under the knife wound. The blood was beginning to thicken, turning from bright red to a deep crimson as it oxidizes.

The moment they enter their private garden, Nishinoya busts down the door to their home with expertise, alerting the other members of their clan. “Akaashi!” He screeches, his voice bellowing out in decibels that should not be used unless trying to project a voice in an amphitheater with no microphone. Thank omniscient beings for noise cancelling enchantments. “We need you!” An almost timid, young looking man enters the foyer where Noya is still collecting blood and Yaku is holding your limp body in his arms.

“So that’s where you two have been,” Akaashi deadpans, unfazed by the steadily decaying girl. “Bring her to my room. You can store what blood you’ve gathered there while I remove the knife and get her patched up.” Though calm, the three of them move at breakneck speeds, laying you face down on an operating table while Akaashi suits up. From what he can tell, this was going to be a real mess, considering how deep the knife is. The three of them knew what was to come and what their designated roles in this moment were—Nishinoya was to separate the blood he had gathered from your body and ration them into IV bags, while Yaku was provide suction in case of a bleed out.

“We can save her, can’t we?” Yaku asks quietly, tools in hand.

“That will depend on her will to fight,” Akaashi says quietly, half due to concentration, half because he genuinely does not have a valid answer. “You’ve done this time and time again, Yaku. If anyone is going to save her, it’s going to be you.”

Upon coming to, the only muscles in your body that can move are your eyelids. Peeling them back as much as you can muster, you notice the only light filtering into whatever room you are currently residing in is coming from the blaring moonlight through an open window. The shadows around you make up areas and shapes that you are entirely unfamiliar with, causing you to sit up impulsively to make sense of your surroundings. A mistake on your part, as you are immediately met with a searing pain in your ribs. With further inspection from your droopy eyes, you learn that your torso is entirely bare, save for the copious amounts of medical grade bandages and gauze around your breasts and stomach. Blood pooled somewhere along your left shoulder blade where the pain felt the worst.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up right now.” The same voice you faintly remember from the alley, the one that didn’t want to leave you, before blacking out calls out from across the bedroom. The room is quite large from what you could tell and his smooth voice seems to be leagues away. “Lay back down before you bleed out again—I’ll change your bandages.” From the shadows, a man whom you presume to be Yaku emerges before you, perfect pale skin and sandy brown locks nearly reflecting in the moonlight as he approaches. His face, while incredibly handsome, is blank and is strictly business as he saunters near. Even as he is gingerly tearing off the tight bindings around you with next to no effort, his face remains nonplussed. Even as he washes the dried, crusty blackened blood off your bare chest, nothing. “Do you remember anything?” Yaku’s voice is quiet and somber as he asks his question. He takes your silence as a no.

Your mind is a hazy smog, trying to recall any type of memory at all. Rather than actual imagery, you see a white light when you close your eyes—you see colors you don’t remember seeing before, you hear crying. You hear your name. Not just your first name or a nickname either, you hear your entire given name along with your birthday, even the time of birth.

Any attempt to recall memories is interrupted by a sharp pain. You suck in a breath as Yaku tries to lift your arm to wrap the fresh bandages around your torso, causing him to grimace ever so slightly. This task was a bit easier for him when you were still unconscious, but nonetheless he is glad you’re awake. When the pain subsides, you peel your eyelids back once again, staring at the man sitting at the edge of the bed in wonder. Why was he tending to your wounds? How did he fit into the story? “You needn’t worry about that right now, [name],” he murmurs quietly, reintroducing the same delicate tone you heard before blacking out in the alley. Yaku can tell you’re wondering how he knew what to respond with and how he knew your name but, after a small deliberation, he decides it’s best not to overwhelm you right now. “Get some rest, little one,” he speaks again, “I’ll be here when you wake.” Before you know it, you’re out like a light once again.

Yaku exits his and Noya’s shared bedroom to dispose of the sullied bandages, only to be greeted to the sight of his mate leaning against the bannister closest to their room. “How’s she doing?” Yaku’s lips tighten, the seam becoming a hard line as his grimace deepens.

“She doesn’t remember anything but when I asked her if she did...”

“What?” Noya presses, perturbed at the silence. Very few things in their lives rendered Yaku speechless.

“She started seeing memories of her birth.” The two shorter leaders of the clan meander their way down the grandiose staircase in silence, each step accompanied by the dramatic chimes of a grand piano coming from the foyer. The music stops when they reach the bottom of the staircase, Sugawara pausing his fingers and quirking a brow at the couple. It was a rare occurrence to see both of them, or Nishinoya in the very least, look so morose.

“What’s got you guys looking so down? You look like someone just died.” The musician muses. Sugawara Koushi always did have the most twisted sense of humor—that was partially the reason that Yaku had kept him around. The other primary reason was solely for bragging rights and an inside joke between the clan because no matter how many times Sugawara introduced himself as Beethoven or Bach, people assumed that they all just meant he was talented. Not that it was literal and Sugawara was just a name he’d adopted when he earned another century of life.

“Ha ha,” Nishinoya drawls satirically, for both himself and for Yaku. The latter excuses himself, parting ways because he knows he can’t handle conversation right now. “Come on, Suga, that’s not funny. Yaku’s already taking this really hard and if we lose her...”

“Humans die all the time, Nishi. A conversion isn’t a guaranteed shot at a second life and Yaku knows that so why is he—“

“Because she was found just like I was. Wrong place at the wrong time and it ended with...” the shorter of the two can no longer find the words to speak. It didn’t matter how many centuries old everyone in the clan was, it didn’t matter that they had watched plagues take countless lives or even bared witness to some of Jack the Ripper’s victims—it was a different monster entirely to genuinely watch a person become prey to another human. “I hope she makes it through, if only to rip out the guys throat that stabbed her.”

Three months had passed since you had first woken up. Strength is returning to you little by little, though not enough for you to hold consciousness for more than a few minutes a day. Regardless, Yaku is relieved to see you making some form of progress, to see that you’re somewhat handling the conversion well. The head of the clan was almost always present when you did awake, though there were instances in which his partner, Nishinoya, had been the one to greet you.

Nishinoya was much more boisterous than his other half—much more talkative and, considering you haven’t found the strength to speak quite yet, that was entirely okay with you. You learned that Yaku and Nishinoya had been together a very long time and Yaku had saved his life ages ago, as the latter phrased it. In admiration, Noya mentions his partner’s abundance of patience—a skill that he himself lacked—and determination to see justice being served had swayed the younger of the two to continuously stand alongside him. Through these little vignettes of their life, however, Noya makes it a point to acknowledge the fact that he was once almost too overbearing for his senior, often intimidating him with just how open and blunt he was. “Nishi, are you boring her with details of our mundane life?” Yaku asks bemusedly as he enters the room you’d been resting in.

“Hey, we aren’t boring. I’m not boring you, am I?” Noya looks to your face, your expression not giving much away save for the light in your barely live eyes. It was far from mundane—if anything, hearing the stories made you so curious considering from just barely glancing with the two, they seemed to be a strange couple.

“We are,” Yaku confirms, though as to what, you aren’t sure. You were certain you hadn’t said anything aloud, considering you practically can’t. “Let’s just say I can hear your thoughts. It’s how we’ve been communicating with you.” The head of clan saunters over casually, sitting at the edge of the mattress opposite to his partner. Both of their rich, golden irises are gazing at you, gauging a reaction from you as he shares this bit of information. Weird, was the only way for you to describe it. Though Yaku didn’t need to read your mind to know that; the slightly panicked look on your face gave away your thoughts.

“Don’t think we don’t know about those vivid wet dreams you have of us—“

“Yū, you weren’t supposed to tell her that!”

“What? We’re all adults here—“

“Nishi, get out,” Yaku covers his face in utter horror, even more so as his partner exits the room laughing as he does so. Shameless Noya. The door closes, leaving you and Yaku alone—were he able to go red out of embarrassment, he probably would have. “I-I am so sorry about him.” Testing out the information that the man beside you supplied moments ago, you reassure him that it’s fine—that you have no control over your dreams and that he probably doesn’t have a way to turn off this strange ability. For a moment, he’s relieved because you seem to be accepting everything with grace thus far; maybe telling you the truth wasn’t going to be the worst case scenario.

But the thought of the truth makes Yaku hesitate—there was no way you were ready to handle the entirety of the truth. At the moment, you could barely handle your weekly check-ups with Akaashi—the household doctor. After a formal introduction, you learned that Akaashi was the one who patched up your wounds when you were first brought to the little mansion. From what you gathered, he was quiet and direct, kind even, but you hated the weekly visits. Not only was Yaku carrying you rather painful, as you’re still recovering from your injuries, but Akaashi had to do regular blood transfusions because, according to the young doctor that you swore could not have already completed medical school and residency, you had lost a lot of blood during the incident.

An incident in which you still can’t recall.

“It’ll come to you,” Yaku says morosely, probably responding in accordance to your thought. The man beside you gets up from the bed, holding his arms open to you, silently asking for permission to pick you up. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more gentle.” His arms are cold as he lifts you up, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your back as he moves you. A sharp intake of breath leaves your lungs as Yaku supports you physically, adding gentle words of encouragement because he can almost feel how much pain you’re in. Every step down the steep staircase adds another metaphorical bruise to your tender skin, a small groan leaving your throat each time. And while you’re not uncomfortable with the idea of being in Yaku’s arms, you’re grateful when you’re laid down in Akaashi’s office along the leather exam seat.

“How are you feeling today, [name]?” The young doctor asks as he preps you for your blood transfusion. Much to your surprise, you feel hungry—ravenous, even—like you hadn’t eaten a meal in months. Maybe you hadn’t; it wouldn’t be that ridiculous to consider since your memory was a little shoddy.

“You’ll feel better after the transfusion,” Yaku reassures from the chair he’s sitting in beside the exam bed, “we’ll get some food in your system before we start your physical therapy.” There’s an interesting intonation in the way he speaks this, you notice. Like there’s an underlying joke or hidden agenda that you don’t quite understand, but at the same time, the strange phrasing doesn’t trigger your fight-or-flight system in any capacity. If anything, it just seems that Yaku wants to help you regain strength as best you can.

Though, that was currently proving to be a challenge as well. While you weren’t entirely sure how long ago your injuries occurred, you knew a decent amount of time had to have passed. One of your first check-up appointments with Akaashi led to the explanation of the muscle atrophy in your legs from lack of use. Once you slowly became acclimated to being awake for more than just a few minutes a day, Daichi was introduced to you as your physical therapist. He was another enigma—entirely too young to be as experienced as he was in his field, but you decided against questioning it—temporarily mute or not.

Being mute was another issue that was taking much longer than you liked. You hated only being able to communicate through Yaku’s inexplicable talent of being able to read your mind. There were many occasions in which you wanted to ask Akaashi about your condition and how bad of a state you had been brought to him in; how you wanted to ask Sugawara how he’d learned to play such a vast variety of melodies so expertly; how you wanted to tell Nishinoya that every time he tried to feed you a soup or something, it tasted foul and metallic no matter how fresh it was.

You’d have to wait until you found your voice again.

After your check-in with Akaashi, Yaku brings you to Daichi’s office just down the hallway. “Hey, there’s our little fighter.” Daichi was probably the kindest out of everyone in the household. He had a warmth to him that seemed to contrast his icy fingers when he’d hold and guide you for your therapy sessions—a little uncanny that everyone in this mansion had freezing finger tips. Maybe everyone had poor blood circulation?

From the opposite end of the room, Yaku stifles a laugh by biting his cheek. Glad to know that your deconstructed concept of time hadn’t waned on your sense of humor. Meanwhile, Daichi lays you gingerly on a mat on the ground with you back flat as he wraps a resistance band around one of his ankles, as well as your own. “Alright, [name], I’m gonna help you get your leg up and I want to see you pull your leg up as high as you can go, understood?” Five didn’t seem like a very large number, but for now it was the goal. If you could at least lift your legs five times, it was progress considering the severe muscle atrophy in your legs.

Some days, it was difficult for Yaku to sit with you through therapy. He can see the way you wince in pain because you’re trying to relearn and rebuild your muscle groups; other times he just wanted someone, anyone, to blurt out the truth about the situation and hope that it inspires you to push yourself to heal. Some days, it was difficult because Yaku found himself just wanting to hold you in his bed that you’d taken over while the two of you plot out the revenge you didn’t even know you needed. But it wasn’t always bad. There were days, like today, where the progress on your therapy was going much better than anyone in the clan anticipated. There were days where Yaku would ask what you remembered about...anything, and you would have some form of answer for him.

On those days, Yaku began to realize that your memories were coming in chronological order. From the first time you sat up or crawled, to your first word even. In fact, Yaku’s favorite moment that he’s witnessed thus far was watching your father teach you to take your very first steps—it seemed to recur during your therapy sessions, as if subconsciously encouraging you to try to walk again. Maybe that’s why today, you were able to provide Daichi with double the repetitions that he asked for—a sure sign that strength and muscle were returning to your legs. But even with what progress you’ve made so far, Yaku makes it a point to carry you back to your room and lay you back in bed to rest. As always, Yaku tucked you in as he spoke, “get some sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake,”

For weeks on end, dreams stop becoming dreams. Per usual, Yaku awaits in the corner opposite of the bed where you rest, allowing your memories-turned-dreams to flood his mind. Each night, they’re progressively becoming more and more clear—you’re able to recall outfits that you’d worn twenty years ago with perfect detail, scars and scrapes that your friends had, even when that one sock was in the corner of your closet from when you were seven. But the clearer these chronological dreams became, the less frequently you were waking up and it was beginning to worry the head of the clan. While you were still obtaining your weekly blood transfusions to help sustain your life, it seemed to be that they were no longer providing you with enough energy to move past your current stage of recovery. “Yaku, she needs to start feeding,” Akaashi had instructed him during a consultation.

“I still haven’t told her—“

“Come on, man, it’s been almost eight months,” the house doctor groans. There was no reason to coddle you anymore as your life-threatening wounds had already healed for the most part. Sure, there was still discomfort from your broken ribs but even those had almost entirely healed over; your physical therapy sessions and rehabilitation with Daichi were going rather well but, at this point, if you didn’t start getting more substance in your body, this would be the end of the line for you. Akaashi had advised him this for weeks now, but Yaku still hesitated. “We’ve got to tell her.”

“I know, I know. I just—“ the sandy brunette ruffles his claws through his mussed locks in frustration, “I think her power is developing. And I’m afraid if we drop the bomb on her now, it’s going to halt or hinder that progress.”

“Either tell her or feed her,” Akaashi bites, “if you don’t, she’s not going to have any power because she’s going to starve to death.” With that, Akaashi walks away because he has nothing left to argue at this point. While he may be the youngest of the brood, this made Akaashi the most volatile of the group. More often than not, he was relatively kind and patient, timid even, as he was in his human life, but also very stern and strict—all of it coming from a place of love. And Yaku, knowing the tremendous amounts of emotional pain that the former had received, the leader of the clan dare not disrespect him.

Rather than making it an argument, Yaku roams around the lodge to grab a couple bags of O negative out of storage before heading back to his room. Much to his surprise, Nishinoya is sitting at the edge of the bed already, a slight look of panic washing over his features. “Yaku, I think something is wrong.” Without another word, the creature in question hands the bags of blood to his mate before resting his forehead against yours—a sure fire way to make sure that the mental images he picked up from you were pristine and uninterrupted as you dreamed—ignoring the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

You were at the Pike house. It was the first week of the new college semester and your roommates had convinced you to tag along to a frat party they were invited to. The night was going along exactly like a corny romantic comedy—you had locked eyes with a man from across the dance floor. He was sweet—much kinder than others you had met that night. He grabbed you drink after drink, but your memory begins to go fuzzy after that despite being able to recall memories of your own birth or the stupid girl that picked on you when you were twelve and even the small pimple on her temple that you figured was probably making her insecure. So if you were able to recall these memories, dreams, whatever they were, with such perfect clarity, why could you not remember leaving that party? Did that mean he had been drugging your drinks? It was entirely possible, considering Pike wasn’t exactly known for their hospitality. You vaguely remember the man holding your hand firmly as the two of you weave and bob around people and being met with the sweltering humidity of a muggy August night and your roommates, Yukie and Kaori, were nowhere to be found.

You were dragged into a dimly lit alleyway, stumbling with every step that the man had nearly carried you by your wrist alone, reeking of trash that had been long overdue for pick up and maybe even rotting carcasses. It was difficult to tell considering the drugs you assume that had been placed in your system and it was even more difficult to recall the memories. Bits and pieces of your memory were coming back in patches—though the face of the man that had brought you there was not one of them. Nor were any of his friends that had joined in, appearing at the opening of the alleyway. You remember the sound of tearing fabric, salacious laughter of the group of men surrounding your body. You remember feeling searing pain as one held a knife to your throat, warning you that he would slit your throat if you tried to scream.

The threat was replaced in the form of one of the frat boys ramming a half-hard cock down your throat, knife still in place along the jugular vein, while every orifice and inch of your skin had been violated. Vaguely, you remember trying to bite down on the cock in your mouth and run away. The one that threatened to kill you had missed your throat when you ran and threw the knife into your back instead. Foul screeches of demeaning slander left their mouths as they kicked your ribs in at full force, as if the knife deep in your back wasn’t bad enough.

You remember them leaving your bare, naked body in the alley for death to take you.

You remember their faces.

Awakening with a start, you sit up abruptly, only to fall back into the pillow with a resonant clacking noise followed by a dull throb to your forehead. Yaku recoils, mostly out of shock rather than pain—maybe laying his head on yours wasn’t his finest moment. “You remember,” he balks after he’s recovered from the impact. You’re trying to scream, no sound leaving your lungs while tears barreled out from your eyes. Remember? Why was that a memory? Why did it have to be a memory?

Nishinoya acts hastily, tearing open one of the O negative packs and draining half the contents into his mouth and holding it there as he shoves Yaku out of the way. The smaller of the two slats his lips over your silently screaming mouth, puncturing a small wound to the inside of your lip with his teeth and letting the blood trickle in the hole. It feels like pudding trying to push through a sieve, the flavor of copper and iron tampered out by an earthy, meat flavor—maybe venison? The desire to scream fades away as well, rather being over taken to have whatever nourishment Noya is giving you to enter you more and more. Out of necessity, you mold your lips over his, sucking hard on his lip while wrapping your arms around him because it just didn’t seem that he could get close enough in this moment. Despite the fingers you have threaded in Nishinoya’s gelled locks, he pulls away with a shit-eating grin, his tongue swiping away at the trail of red liquid dripping from the seam of his lips. “Careful, might make a guy a fall in love with that kinda kiss.”

“M-more,” you croak out, deflecting the younger one’s flirty comment all together. Yaku and Noya’s eyes go wide upon hearing your voice for the first time. The former acts on instinct, downing the remaining contents of the bag in his partner’s hand before reenacting the same gesture as the latter. Yaku’s lips are much softer than his partners—or maybe it’s the quelling of whatever hunger that hadn’t been satiated that eased the desire. With Yaku, his tongue laves against the wound that Noya had made, coaxing the fluid to enter at a much more steadfast, intimate pace. Even well after he was done feeding you, Yaku sucked on your tongue, encouraging you to reciprocate, so as to get every drop. “W-What was t-that?” You pant out brokenly as soon as the two of you break apart. The question startles the two sitting at the edge of the bed—now that you had your voice somewhat back, Yaku no longer needed to communicate for you. That also meant he couldn’t control the flow of responses to not overwhelm you.

“I think it’s time you finally got your answers,” Noya mumbles, treading carefully as he looks at his partner. It was a silent reassurance that, no matter how this scenario proceeded, he would be here to support Yaku. To make you more comfortable, he adjusts the pillows behind you so that your back can rest properly along the headboard.

“M-my d-d-dreams?” Having just rediscovered your voice, it still came out in sharp, staccato-like whimpers, but the boys weren’t going to discourage you from speaking. Much like everything else Yaku had done in his life, he had done with patience and your recovery and rehabilitation were no different. But your throat was still raw and it still hurt to speak—thankfully with your mind rushing like a bullet train, Yaku was able to grasp the entirety of your question.

“I think they’re more memories than dreams.” His words come out like a condemning nail in a coffin—like a doctor telling you you only have a few months left to live—because that means everything you recalled from Pike house, the drinks, the party, the alley, all of it was real. “Noya and I found you that night barely clinging to life. Naked, soaked in blood and semen. You died that night, [name].” As he speaks, his cold finger tips traced along your breast until you feel the throbbing mound of flesh—a scar of where the knife had been thrown into you from the back and exited out the front. “The knife had gone through your aorta. Akaashi spent a long time trying to repair it but was unable to.”

Your body begins to tremble as silent sobs wrack through your body. You died? “S-so how ‘mi h-here?” Yaku looks over at Noya in discernible worry—not because the head was afraid of telling the truth, no. He was afraid how you would react to the truth. His partner looks at him poignantly, mentally reminding him that this was eerily similar to how Noya had reacted when he had learned the truth as well. Yaku’s head bobs in agreement, swallowing his hesitance before speaking again.

“I made you like me. Like the rest of us.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, suspicion even, because there’s no way that he’s saying what you think he’s saying. But rather than offering a verbal response, Yaku holds his hand out towards Noya, in which he places the other bag of O Negative in his palm. While the original plan was to just feed you once again, the second Yaku tears open the bag, the hunger you thought had eased returned at full force. You rip the bag out of his cold hands, elongated claws scratched at you as you do so, before you down the contents like a shotgunned beer before you could realize what you were doing.

“T-This is a joke, right?” You balk, voice clear as day due to the strength returning to your body once again from freshly consumed sustenance. But the tensions have gone down significantly, to the point where Noya feels relief and excuses himself to feed, leaving you in Yaku’s solitary care. Once the two of you are left alone, Yaku can only shake his head as he continues to press on with the truth. This had to be a cruel, sick joke. But it wasn’t funny and you certainly weren’t laughing. Yet Yaku had no reason to lie to you and the snack you had just consumed moments ago was meant to serve as a final nail in the metaphorical coffin to make you understand that he was telling the truth.

“We have been alive for centuries—storytellers dubbing our kind as vampires—but originally, we were simply called the Damned.” Yaku proceeds to go through the history, much like he had with all the others before you, because he feels the need to share the truth, needs to tell you that your death isn’t the end of your life but rather the beginning like it had for all those in clan. The most recent addition to the family was Akaashi. He was less than a century old, compared to the others. Akaashi had been tied to a tree and shot repeatedly, only to watch his lover drown to death, who had been tossed into the ocean before shortly before with a thirty pound weight attached to his ankle with his last few breaths. Yaku and Sugawara were the ones to set his nearly lifeless body free with the head of the clan performing Akashi’s conversion. This lead to the newborn to coming back to slaughter the community that decided to his partner needed to die for being a man in love.

Each of their stories was nearly identical. Sugawara, who apparently has been every major known classical musician in history hiding under the guise of his shapeshifter ability, and Daichi were hanged together for being a homosexual couple after their village had carved unsavory words on their bodies to remind their reincarnations of their sins. Yaku and Noya had saved each of them respectively, and allowed the two of them to go on a rampage to annihilate their executioners.

Lastly, or rather firstly, was Nishinoya himself. As Yaku goes into detail about transforming his partner, he tears up ever so slightly. And as you listen actively with no interruptions, no questions even, as he tells you about how Nishi was wrongly imprisoned for theft and how the other prisoners constantly violated and sodomized his body because he was smaller than the rest; how he ended his own life by ingesting whatever toxic chemicals he could find and how Yaku broke him out of prison to start a new life together. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” the aforementioned prisoner re-enters the room, a fragile smile on his thin lips as he takes a seat beside his partner. “So you finally told her?”

“B-but why m-me? Why not just let me die?”

“Do you not want revenge against the assholes that killed you a year ago, [ name ]?” Noya bit before Yaku could jump in. “They’re still alive after what they did to you—how is that fair?!”

A year?

You had died a year ago. How did your family take the news? Your roommates and best friends? Nishi was right—it wasn’t fair at all. Yaku raises a hand towards his partner in attempts to get him to calm down before he got too riled up about the situation and before he could get out the most important question. “I have to know, [ name ], if you want to continue on with this lifestyle or not before we proceed with the real rehabilitation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tilt your head to your newfound savior. He said it so nonchalantly, as if learning how to walk or learning that your diet was blood wasn’t rehabilitation.

“Well, we have to teach you how to feed properly so your strength gets back up—unless you just want us to feed you for the rest of your eternal life.” Noya jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in what you’ve come to understand is his typical, joking demeanor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Noya, can you maybe save the flirting for later?” Yaku grits out—once again slightly mortified. It brings laughter to the man in question; it was like rewatching his own life all over again, seeing him get flustered at the smallest amounts of forward affection. It was endearing, if anything.

“Sure. Let’s get [ name ] healthy first then.”

After coming to terms with your transformation and feeding more regularly, still off of a supply stock that the mansion carried, you were able to attend therapy sessions with Daichi more frequently. And while you hadn’t entirely regained muscle or use of your legs, you were able to at least stay awake more often than not. Rather than being cooped up in the bedroom, you found yourself lounging near the entryway where Sugawara would entertain you with the countless pieces he had written over the years. It was soothing and peaceful and Sugawara’s jovial personality kept you from spiraling into a deeper hole knowing that you died. It was still an insane concept, but the five men in your new home had worked hard to keep you sane. “Ready for your session?” Yaku asks gently as he takes a seat beside you on the luxurious sofa. He’s not as uptight as he was now that you knew the truth, though he still did get flustered when you would openly show affection. Even if it was something as simple as leaning your head on his shoulder like you were now.

“I think so,” doing what you could, you scooted and clambered onto Yaku’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck firmly while your weakened lower limbs splayed across his lap. He tucks one arm under your knees while the other supports your back, effectively scooping you up and brings you to the kitchen where the blood stock is kept. You quirk a brow at the creature carrying you, knowing you’ve already had at least three bags since you woke up.

“Gotta get your strength up so you can recover faster,” is all he responds with before he sets you down on a bar stool. Yaku tears open the bag of O Negative and, much to your shock, he drinks half the contents without swallowing before his lips are on yours. One of his fangs finds purchase on the inside of your lip, sinking down and creating an opening for the blood to flow in for quicker delivery. Usually, Yaku would only have to feed you like this when you were in a weaker state, so it felt a bit out of place for him to be doing it right now, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. While the blood trickles into the wound, Yaku’s tongue swirls with yours intimately, coating the cavern with the liquid and he doesn’t stop until every ounce is clear from both of your mouths.

“Not complaining,” you say slowly, “but is there a particular reason you wanted to feed me instead of just letting my chug the bag?” As you ask your question, Yaku is draining the rest of the contents of the bag into his mouth before pulling you towards him in another kiss. The question is repeating over and over in your head, he can hear it loud and clear, but the other thoughts are spurring him on further. The thoughts of how Yaku’s touch makes you crave more, makes you want to feel his lips along your skin and his large hands gripping your thighs tightly. Sometimes he’s unsure whether or not you conveniently forget that he can read your mind, sometimes he wonders if you let your salacious thoughts run wild on purpose. His chest is heaving, deep intakes of breath are plunging through his nostrils despite the blood being long gone. He doesn’t want to stop but centuries of control are begging him to.

“We’re going somewhere today, after your PT,” Yaku pants out after he pulls away, tilting his head down because he can’t look at you right now—he’s afraid to. He needs to try to dampen whatever feral thoughts are running through your brain so that his own self-control doesn’t just get tossed out the window. “Noya and I are taking you out for your first hunt.”

“Uh, am I ready for that?” Shit, you can’t even walk in your own yet. Yaku laughs, grateful for the reprieve from your sexually charged thoughts when you point out the setback.

“That’s why the extra feeding tonight. I needed to make sure it was in your bloodstream so that you had enough strength for PT and the hunt,” Yaku adjusts you from barstool, scooping you into his arms once again to bring you to the mansion’s back garden. Daichi is standing a short distance away adorning a tight muscle tee and joggers, while Noya and Akaashi are sitting at the small table with cigars in hand. Yaku steadies you in front of Daichi, the latter holding onto your hands to make sure you don’t fall, before the former joins the rest the clan at the table. Sugawara emerges from inside the mansion as well, passing off a cigar to Yaku while lighting his own. It was uncomfortable in some capacity to have everybody watching—you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being critiqued on your performance.

“I’m going to be one step ahead of you, and I won’t let go, okay?” Daichi holds his arms out to give you space to take your first step. You take in a sharp breath, the scent of scent of cigars and pine trees overwhelming your nasal cavity. When did you sense of smell become that strong? With trembling limbs, you cling onto Daichi’s muscular forearms, praying to god you didn’t fall as you took a step forward.

“Hey, look!” Noya cheers from a distance, nudging Yaku in the stomach. “She took a step!” The excitement in his voice was evident because, after months of constant aid, Noya has come to have a soft spot for you almost as much as Yaku does. The two of them are watching, utterly enthralled with the way you’re only moving mere millimeters—but millimeters is better than nothing considering the muscle decay and atrophy that had taken place over the last year.

After the first few steps and curling your toes in blades of grass, your feet begin to relax as you tremble forward. Gripping Daichi with all the strength in your hands, you pick your right foot off the ground and place it forward. “That’s good, [ name ]! Gimme one more,” Daichi, a therapist in more ways than one, encourages you to continue moving, wanting to make sure both legs were receiving equal treatment. You repeat the motion with your left leg, taking two full steps. While not perfect, you kept moving forward with his guidance until his calves hit the stone wall of the garden fountain. Considering where you started, twenty five feet was a tremendous distance to cover. “You did amazing, [ name ].” The vampire holding onto you smiles big, pride swelling in chest like a father praising his daughter for taking first in a beauty pageant.

Yaku and Noya are by your side immediately in celebration, the latter much more overt with it as he’s hugging you and holding you up. “What do you think, Daichi? Is she strong enough to at least witness a hunt?” The former asks. Mentioning the “H” word again perks your ears up because a part of you almost wishes to not have to engage with whatever a hunt entails, but part of you also knows that this is your life now. Everything you thought you knew was no longer valid—this was your rebirth, your awakening.

“I think she’ll be okay if one of you carries her for it—“

“Ooh, I’ll do it!” Noya cheers almost too loudly in your ear as he’s still holding you. Without so much as a chance to offer a rebuttal, you’re swept up into his arms as he stands at full height before glancing at his mate. “Ready to go?” Yaku gives a nod, gripping tightly at the satchel over his shoulder before the three of you are off at breakneck speeds. They’re silent as they travel—perhaps because were they to open their mouths at this speed and velocity, they would be catching a whole lot of bugs in their mouths. To your surprise, the three of you end up outside ten-foot-tall brick walls and a chain link fence.

“This is a...”

“A prison,” Yaku answers simply, as if he were answering with what his favorite color was rather than his favorite meal, “considering our diet, we choose to collect our sustenance from those who do not deserve redemption.” There’s a malignant, dark twist in the headman’s words.

“Personally, I prefer going after the rapists and child molestors. Those bastards deserve to be drained of every ounce of blood.” Noya snarls—you could tell it was personal for him. But how could he tell? Surely it wasn’t just written on placards outside of prison cells.

“Easy. Walk in, ask them what they’re serving time for, and their minds fill in the blanks.” The foreboding you sensed from Yaku deepened even further; deepened to the point where it felt like a magnet drawing your eyes towards your savior. But he looked anything but. Yaku stood merely a few inches taller, his claws sharpening and turning black while red overtook the once golden hues of his irises. You look up at Noya curiously, wondering if he’ll undergo the same sort of transformation, but before you could even question it, the gold in his own eyes had already molded into crimson rings.

The three of you enter the building with ease, aiming for the top floor because, according to Nishi, that was where they kept the worst criminals. It played out exactly as Yaku said it would—ask them what they were imprisoned for and, if they were in captivity under the basis of rape, first or second degree murder, sexual assault, or anything involving a minor, he would sink his fangs into their jugular vein and drain them dry. Though he announces his satisfaction, he remains in this strange form that he has presented you with as Nishinoya passes you off into his arms.

The smaller of the two repeats the same process, taking down two prisoners of his own before taking the satchel off of his partner’s shoulder. Noya continues questioning prisoners, letting Yaku’s power of mind reading acting as the judgment call, before pulling out a small, sharp knife from the satchel and slitting each victim’s throat while holding them downcast like a gavel banging down the rule. As blood fountains from their necks, Nishinoya holds fresh IV bags over the openings to collect whatever comes out like rain. Was this how they ended up getting blood for you to feed over the past year. “Yes,” Yaku answers evenly, looking down at you with his crimson eyes, “but we were hoping to actually teach you how to feed tonight. Are you up for it?” Every nerve in your body seemed to scream no, like you shouldn’t be witnessing these events let alone doing it.

But your guts are telling you yes, yes this is now your way of survival. These men were horrid, their victims needed justice. You needed justice. Giving Yaku a small nod, he gives you instructions while the three of you search for your very first meal. Considering neither your fangs nor claws had grown in, as you were very much still a baby by all intents and purposes, Noya would have to incapacitate your prey for you while you bit the inside of your lip, reopening the same puncture wounds from earlier, to allow easier access for the nutrients to enter your body. Once they were out, Noya would puncture the jugular vein for you, while Yaku dipped you down far enough to feed.

Your lips latched on to the raw skin, hooking your own canines for leverage as you draw the blood from your dinner and the moment the warmth seeped into the opening, all doubts about what you were doing had flown out the window. You adjusted the way you’re sitting on your victim, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you continuously sucked every drop of life from him. “Did she just—“ Noya questions, not missing the fact that you had just moved your atrophied legs. And while Yaku is very aware of his mate’s balking, he can only focus on the way your lips mold against your meal’s neck or the muted slurping noises bubbling from your lungs like a woman starved. In a sense, that was quite literal. Noya looks over at his partner—silence wasn’t typical of Yaku when asked a question—but words are lost on him when he sees the way Yaku’s eyes are hungrily staring at your form and he’s unsure if its due to hunger or hunger. The moan that leaves your tongue when you finally pull away from the now empty body confirms the shorter one’s suspicions. “Not that seeing you turned on doesn’t turn me on, but you might wanna put that away, Morisuke.” Noya teases before walking towards you, the call of his given name causing Yaku to snap out of his stupor. Well fuck, he snarls bitterly in his head. He was gonna have to feed again, considering all the blood he had just consumed went straight to his cock.

You feel alive—more alive than you felt in ages. And despite your attempt being incredibly shaky, you managed to stand on your own two feet, using the wall to brace yourself. Noya rushes over to your side to try to hold you steady, asking if you’re alright. “I’m more than alright, Nishi, holy shit.” He has an arm under you, carefully bringing you back towards Yaku, though for the most part, you’re walking entirely on your own.

“So what, have you guys just been giving me snacks this whole time?” You sneer teasingly, though Yaku looks away because your accusation because it isn’t entirely wrong. The blood packs were indeed “snacks” but were usually only used to stave off hunts, that way they didn’t just decimate the prison on an every other day basis, but were also used as post coitus replenishments.

“One more?” Yaku coughs out, as if choking on his own spit. “We can do this one together, if you like.” He’s trying to be polite, despite the feral look in his eyes while also trying to calm down the lust and adrenaline running rampant in his system.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” As opposed to carrying you this time, Yaku flanks to your empty side, helping you walk between him and Noya until you came upon your next victim. This one was larger than the last few—stocky and skin marred with stories of a brutal past. No matter which way you looked at him, he looked bitter, and after asking him what he was in for, you figure he was a perfect candidate. After all, intentionally murdering his wife and three children was heinous by definition. Yaku approaches the much taller man, crouching ever so slightly in the event your meal tried to escape; not that he could even if he wanted to. The leader of the Damned was behind him in seconds, snapping his neck to disarm the threat that was his build.

To everyone’s surprise, you made your way over slowly to the now lifeless, six-foot-three prisoner while Yaku punctured holes on both sides of the victim’s neck, allowing the both of you to feed. It was oddly intimate, being so close to someone while sucking the literal life out of somebody. The lapping, sucking noises brought back salacious thoughts to the man beside you, and he’s doing all that he can just to avoid trading sustenance for an erection again. Meanwhile, Noya is watching both of you in amusement. Does his partner realize that he’s gingerly scraping his claws along your spine? Is it out of encouragement, or interest? Yu can’t quite tell, but he finds it entertaining nonetheless. Even more so when Yaku squirms at the throaty moan leaving your lungs when you pull away, lips plump with a bead of leftovers dripping from the seam of you mouth.

Either way, Nishinoya knows it won’t be long now until Yaku cracks. Despite the great amount of self-control he tends to exercise, Yaku is but a simple creature that cannot stave off his desires and Noya is no different. They were going to give way to their desires sooner rather than later, but they made a vow eons ago that revenge must always come first.

One year, three months, one week, and four days. That was how long it had been since you died in the alleyway. Today was the day those boys were going to die for what they did.

By now, you were fully functioning; walking on your own, feeding on your own. The only difference between you and the others was that you still slept, though not very much anymore, and according to Akaashi, it would be a trait that you would grow out of maybe two decades after your first century. That was actually the sole reason there was even a bed in the house—Nishinoya still slept merely because he enjoyed it. He wasn’t like the others who had found a passion project that kept him up around the clock, so more often than not, he would join you in bed. After all, it was originally his bed.

And more often than not, Yaku would sit in the spacious window sill while Noya wrapped his arms around you protectively in your shared slumber, as if to abide by the repeated mantra he had said over the last year—he’ll be there when you wake.

Your dreams are no longer memories, as you’ve got caught up to current events thanks to the playback speed that they paced themselves at. Now, you’re able to recall on every single event of your life that you’ve witnessed thus far with perfect detail—including the faces of your five murderers. Each of them belonged to your university Pike fraternity; two of them were a year older than you, two the same age, and the one who had the knife to your neck was a freshman not yet old enough to drink legally, but apparently old enough to to pull the metaphorical trigger and throw the knife that had gone through your entire body, severing your aorta in your heart.

After researching in the form of disguise, you learned that tonight Pi Kappa Epsilon would be holding their annual holiday gala; fancy words for a giant frat party for those who chose not to return to their hometowns for Christmas. Knowing how these events tend to function—it was relatively easy to sneak in, even with Nishinoya and Yaku flanking your sides. You flashed the doorman a crisp fifty, knowing males always had to pay a fee for entry while women always got in for free. The bouncer grins upon seeing you in a tight, red body-con dress, but the grin is immediately displaced when his eyes land on the two men beside you. Giving your best, most flirtatious smile, you grab both of their wrists before heading inside. “Don’t lose me, okay?” You yell over the pounding music.

“We won’t,” they say in unison. Noya gives you a reassuring smile, hand pressed against Yaku’s back gently, while the latter purses his lips together in discomfort. “Just keep talking to me through here,” he adds, pressing his cold lips to your forehead chastely, “and I’ll find you.” You give him a confident nod before you throw yourself into the throng of people to find your targets. It proved a bit of a challenge, considering the strobe lighting and the myriad of people—all of the men looked the same on top of that. But once your eyes narrowed in on the man you first lured you, it was game over.

Like a tiger ready to pounce, you sauntered over to him, pushing aside whomever he was with at the moment before wrapping your arms lewdly around his neck. He looks down at you skeptically, but otherwise pleased with the bold actions. From a short distance away, Yaku and Noya are hiding like wallflowers, listening to the resounding chant happening in your head that screamed to kill him. “You know,” Noya chimes in lowly, distracting Yaku from the way your hips are grinding and gyrating against the strange man’s, “we could just kill the entire fraternity.” Yaku shakes his head—Noya was always fond of the idea of revenge against all who were guilty by association. While the others in the clan gave into his persuasion, Yaku never found it amusing.

“What if they had no idea that their brother killed someone?”

“They probably bragged about it,” Noya grumbles. From his own experience, the shorter of the two liked to think that he knew how these people tended to operate.

“It’s go time.” Yaku says abruptly, eyes locked onto your retreating form as you pull one of your rapists by the tie and lead him out the frat house. The two Damned maneuver their way towards the quietest space, hunting for a window they can exit out of to follow you without garnering too much attention towards the situation. When they end up on the sidewalk outside of the Pike house, they see you parading—brokenly, complete with fake stumbles to allude to you being drugged again—the man by the tie until he shoves you into the same alleyway.

Close behind were four others, all built and stocky as they traveled in their pack and making their way towards the alley. You were cornered amongst trash and dead rats, the five of them trying to zero in on you, yet you showed no fear. Instead, you stood at full height with the addition of your stilettos, as your body transitioned into it’s more predatory form. “Remember me?” You ask sweetly, cracking your knuckles nonchalantly. Your hair that’s covering the ugly mound of flesh scarred over from your injury is swept over the opposite shoulder, giving them full view as your short, blackened claws graze over the skin. “Over a year ago, the five of you brought a woman to this alley, raped her and you,” a feral snarl leaves your lips as you point to the youngest fraternity brother, “threw a knife into her back that went all the way through her heart and killed her.”

The five of them begin looking over at each other, wondering who ratted out who considering they had never spoken of the night since it occurred. It was easy to avoid, considering the body was never found. There was never any evidence. “W-who are you?” The youngest one squawks out.

“Don’t remember?” Your head snaps in the direction to one of the older members. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.” There’s no more room for talking, no room for rebuttal. Instead, you grab the same man you lured into the alley by the tie, bringing him close enough to snap his neck. When he was neither moving nor breathing, the remaining four began to back up.

“Yo, this bitch is crazy, let’s get out of here—“

“You think you’re just gonna get away?” Noya laughs dryly as it crescendoed into full volume, shaking the walls and mimicking an earthquake that did not expand beyond the walls of the alley. The remaining four fall to the ground, not prepared for such loud noises let alone a trembling earth to accompany the sound. Yaku shakes his head in utter disgust before the crimson ring in his eyes locks with the prey.

“Done eating, love?” He calls out, causing the four other frat boys to look over in horror at the “e” word. Once again, you’re standing at full height, the back of your hand wiping away the blood that had escaped from your mouth from your feeding.

“Not quite yet,” With every step you took, they trembled back, only to be met with your two saviors blocking their only exit. The youngest one is hiding all the way in the back, trepidation causing his bones to rattle within his skin as his back hits Yaku’s calf. “I’m still hungry.” Noya lets out a snort at this—he truly did love your sense of humor.

“You’re next.” Yaku looks down at the young boy, only nineteen-years-old, who had been your executioner. That same boy looks at the leader of the clan in horror, eyes wide because he never in a million years saw this as his end. Effortlessly, Yaku picks him up by the collar of his shirt before tossing him in your direction. Rather than catching him, you gathered your claws together to form a single point, driving the makeshift lance through the stomach of the one who had ended your life. Without verbalizing it, you gave the boys permission to feed on the other two—so long as it wasn’t the one that you had tried to bite down on when he rammed his cock in your mouth.

You had plans for him.

In the mean time, you pull the now lifeless body off of your bloodied hand, drinking down whatever was dripping down your arm before tossing him off to the side; you had one more pressing matter to deal with. The last of the boys—the dessert to your meal was pressed against the wall as he tried to run from this situation, watching in mortification as Yaku and Noya beheaded the other two brothers with their bare hands, feasting on their prey. “Like I said,” you sneered as you approached the last one, ripping off his pants and boxers much like he had when he violated your mouth. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.”

And so you did.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Yaku muses, having finished his meal, gawking at the way you had just left the last one along the wall with his penis bitten off all the way down to the base while you returned to the youngest member again, draining your murderer for all he was worth.

“I dunno, it’s kinda hot, babe.” Noya jokes, watching in amusement as well.

“I’m actually kinda full,” You shrug, having drained the stabber entirely—that put your body count to two full bodies. “D’you guys wanna have the last one? I got all I wanted from him.” At sound of your permission, Yaku approaches the last one with a predatory glare, not daring to break eye contact as he asked you one more question.

“[ name ], do you feel that justice been served?” With a nonplussed grimace, you gave a shrug.

“If anything, these assholes got the short end of the stick. They murder a girl they raped so she comes back from the dead and kills them all with two beautiful men by her side? Yeah, I’m happy with that.”

By the time you returned home, you were an entirely different creature. You felt...free. Like there was nothing else anchoring your dead heart, like you no longer had a tether to this world. Like you had no purpose.

So now what?

Silently you meander back to your shared bedroom to further contemplate your existence, the boys you left behind glancing at each other in concern. “Want me to talk to her? I might be able to better sympathize.” Noya asks quietly so that your now heightened hearing can’t quite pick up on the conversation. Regardless, Yaku shakes his head. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling and not just because of his ability to read minds.

“I’ve got a few things I want to say to her anyway.” Noya presses a tender kiss to his mates cheek before he flits away to hang out with Daichi as he normally does when he’s not with Yaku, while the head of the clan makes his way to the room. You’re lying in bed already, the dress and stilettos shed and traded for bare feet and a slip. Despite your back turned towards him, you feel the bed dip as he lays beside you, something atypical of Yaku. “How do you feel?” His voice is merely a whisper as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer?” You retort, but Yaku doesn’t recoil because he knows. He knows the sort of limbo you feel you’re placed in now that your postmortem mission had been carried out. What were you supposed to do for the rest of eternity besides act as an impromptu executioner, feeding off of the worst criminals within a hundred mile radius?

“Is that all you see us as?”

“No,” You say quietly. These Damned men had accomplished great things, from what you knew of them, in their lifetimes. Sugawara has continued composing even well after his other alias’ deaths, Akaashi has been working on a research piece for decades regarding cancer in the form of preventative measures rather than a cure, in addition to a cure. Daichi had participated in the Olympics a number of times, Yaku was once a politician in multiple countries and Nishinoya had worked closely with electronic developers over the years including Microsoft and Linux. “You guys have accomplished so much in your lifetimes, I just don’t want to be some sort of disappointment—“

“[ name ], we never knew were going to do those things. We just kept pushing on, finding out things we were passionate about and since we have unlimited time, we’ve had time to hone and perfect those skills.”

“What if I never do anything that great?” Yaku lets out a sigh, turning your now fully restored body around to face him and pressing his face into your neck. Over the duration of your rehabilitation process, he’d become so over protective of you, wanting what’s best for you in any capacity yet never fully being honest with himself.

“You have time to figure it out,” he mumbles into your own icy skin, lips tickling your veins. “Until then, just stay? With me?”

“Yaku...” he had never fully outright asked you to stay—only alluding to it in the past with talks of the future.

“I-I want you,” he whispers almost uncharacteristically. Being a diplomat, stuttering was not a thing that Yaku did very often. “To stay with us forever. To stay with me forever.” This is it, he figures. It’s now or never. Yaku can’t stand the idea of you leaving the clan, leaving him when he hadn’t yet had a taste of you, had you in any other form than a few mere kisses for feeding or in fantasies. Pulling away, Yaku shifts once again so that his arms are holding his weight above you, his lips ghosting intimately over yours.

Both of you are overly aware of the attraction that’s there—you knew of the daydreams you’d had of him throughout the year and with his ability, he was unwillingly subjected to them. Reaching up slightly, your lips press against his hungrily, your tongue immediately dancing along the seam of his lips, begging for permission to enter. Yaku doesn’t waste a second dropping the support from his arms in favor to press his body fully into yours because he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s evident in his fervent kiss, it’s evident in his ever present erection. A mewl warbles in your throat as you feel him grind against you.

Why the hell had you waited so long for this? Why did he wait so long for this?

There was no more waiting.

Breaking a part for a moment, you pull the slip off your torso hastily while Yaku unbuckles his belt and frees his lower half. Impatience floods you as you tear off the thin Henley he’s wearing, leaving the two of you entirely bare in front of each other. The large scar on your bosom that had made you self conscious for months suddenly felt dull in comparison as you’re met with the varying marks that marred Yaku’s skin. From what you could tell, they looked like whiplashes. “I need you now,” he pleads, ignoring your wandering thoughts as he hungrily pulls you in for another kiss. Though rather short lived, your overwhelmed with warmth and pulsing in your core as his fangs run along your neck before sucking lovingly at your collarbone.

“O-oh,” you moan out wantonly, clutching at his shoulders to keep yourself steady. With no preparation, not that you needed any, Yaku slowly sheaths his member inside of you, the girth stretching you deliciously. For a moment, the two of you remain still to bask in the reprieve you both felt, unaware of the third party member watching pleased in the lounge chair across from the bed. “Fuck,” you hiss out between your teeth as he’s pushing in inch after inch.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” for a moment, he’s impressed—taking eleven inches with little to no preparation can be torturous, and he knew that from experience. “Come on, baby take the last of it—oh fuck yeah,” Yaku groans out as soon as he’s balls deep within you. The two of you are still, enjoying the moment of togetherness before he bottoms out entirely in your sweet little hole. His hips move almost languidly so as not to hurt you but good lord for all that is unholy, is he holding back.

Soft whimpers leave your lungs each time his hips snap back into yours—why the hell hadn’t you fucked Yaku sooner?! A throaty chuckle grumbles in his chest at the thought. Even with him slamming his cock in you at half-force, his mind is intertwined with yours to the point where your thoughts feel like his own. “I had to take care of you princess, wanted to make sure you could handle me fucking you.”

“Then fuck me harder, ass-hat.”

“He likes it better when you call him senpai.” Nishinoya calls out from the opposite corner of the room, as if he wasn’t just leisurely watching his partner ream himself into your core. You let out a scream and at this point, you aren’t sure if it’s because Yaku have a particularly hard thrust with the head of his dick meeting with the edge of your womb or if Nishinoya’s presence surprised you. Even more so to see that he was stark naked, stroking his cock that he’s presenting to your mouth.

“Suck off your senpai, princess.” Yaku whispers devilishly in your ear, holding his cock still within you as he does so. Tentatively, you give a kitten lick to the head before you, testing out Nishinoya’s reaction to the motion before deeming him worthy. A soft grunt escapes him, his body more than welcoming of the sensation—but it just wasn’t enough for you.

“I need a better reaction than that, Nishi,” You joke.

A poor plan on your part.

The shorter of the two looks down at you curiously, a wicked twist of his lip displayed for you as he briefly tosses an amused look towards Yaku, to which the latter lets out a chuckle in addition to the shake of his head before he starts to withdraw his cock from within you. “How’s this for reaction?” Noya chirps before deftly wrapping his claws in your hair, slamming his engorged member down your throat while Yaku simultaneously thrusts back inside you. The carnal desires that had run rampant through your mind on occasion had built to this moment, built up the needy desire that the boys finally had the chance to release with you. “Yeah, you take that cock in your throat, baby. Show us how much you’ve wanted us from the start.”

Nishinoya is absolutely relentless as he repeatedly withdraws and replaces his erection in your mouth, pulling so far back as to have his tip tease and smear pre-cum along your lips, all the while chanting praise and how much he loves you; how much he’s dreamed of having you between him and Yaku. The latter can’t help the stuttering motion of his hips as he unabashedly strokes his member along your walls, the tip of dick all but moving into your womb. “Yeah, princess, take your senpais cocks so fucking good, yeah? You want us to fill all your holes with our fucking cum, don’t you?” You can only wail out around Nishinoya in your mouth in response, clenching and squeezing your pussy tightly around Yaku inside you. The clan head lets out a very audible groan at the abrupt friction. “Oh, fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, senpai’s gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, yeah yeah yeah.” Yaku is absolutely wrecking and ravaging your lower half while all the foul, salacious words leaving him were only serving to turn on his partner even more until the both of them hold still to empty their first loads inside you.

After a momentary reprieve, the two of them withdraw from you, the smallest whine leaving your lips at the distinct emptiness. Between pants, both of the males look to each other before letting out a laugh. “Princess,” Noya calls out from your left, golden eyes light and airy as they gaze at you, “did you think we were going to let you cum?”

“Y-yes?” Why wouldn’t they? Wasn’t that just normal, sex etiquette between partners?

“Oh no, love,” Yaku adds, “We’re gonna show you just how much we love you, gotta coat every inch of your skin in our fluids before you can even think about cumming.” Before you can blink, the boys are up again with Nishinoya taking his position with the tip of his still hardened member teasing the outer lips of your pussy. Meanwhile, Yaku makes it a point to slap your cheek with his own erection, making sure to keep your attention and focus on him. Simultaneously, they thrust into their respective orifices that they’ve traded—Yaku treating you much more delicately versus Noya who shoves his entire mast inside your depths.

“Oh damn, babe, you’re so fucking tight!” The latter howls, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Despite having identical lengths, Nishinoya was much more rough and rigid, your walls acclimating to every vein out of necessity before relentlessly pounding away at your insides. At his pace, your pussy doesn’t even have a chance to miss the feeling of fullness. Your voice is no longer coming out in moans or screams due to the damning pace—only in a broken staccato of warbles from the speed that Noya’s fucking you. “Yeah, baby? Gonna stay here with us forever and get dicked down every night? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

But with the almost tender, loving way Yaku is holding your throat while repeatedly sliding his cock in from tip to base, there is no actual way you can reply. Instead, you let out grunts and cries of affirmation because you would stupid not to welcome the way these two were screwing you. It’s also more than just that.

These two, as well as the rest of the brood, had taken you in being inches from death, presented you with another opportunity for life that served as an opportunity for you to seek revenge, while caring for you and almost...loving you.

“We do,” Yaku bites, withdrawing his cock from your lips offended at the thought of almost, “love you, that is.” The hand that is cupping your throat moves to brush the backs of his claws along your jaw before pulling your chin and torso up so that Yaku can kiss you fully. There is no lust or wanton desire in this kiss—it’s love through and through that is simultaneously cold yet warm.

“You’ve been dreaming about us for a long time, princess,” Noya grits out, his peak approaching all too quickly with the way you’re clenching around him with no relief. He’s panting heavily, no longer caring about his need to assert his dominance in any capacity; all he can think about is cumming deep inside you while you cum around his thick cock. “We want to make your dreams come true.”

Yaku pulls away from the kiss in time to hear your cries—a delicacy he had never had the pleasure of knowing in a past life—as you cum with Noya. The latter is holding still for a brief moment before withdrawing, his spent body collapsing beside you. You’re sensitive, you realize, as Yaku slides back in to reclaim his space. Your walls are still trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm, but Yaku is much more gentle this time around. Pressing his body flush against yours, he wraps both his arms around you with one cradling your head, the other around your lower back to pull you as close as possible. His shallow moving thrusts in accompaniment to his pulsing girth are enough to trigger yet another orgasm in direct succession, and coercing his own orgasm. “Please stay, [ name ].” He mumbles into your hair as he feels his seed spurting within you. Though you supply no answer due to trying to catch your breath, you only nod in response. Yaku remains still inside you, so as if to seal both his and his partner’s emission within you with his own softening cock, smiling at the simple fact that you had nodded in response. “Get some rest, little one,” He adds, adjusting so that he’s on the opposite side of you and a now sleeping Noya. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

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ducavalentinos · 5 years ago

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Hello ! Could you tell me facts about the life of Cesare Borgia? Thaanks.

So, I really wanted to make this a short list with basic facts, but somehow it ended up becoming a longer, detailed list with my favorites facts alongside facts that aren’t very well known or mentioned, here it goes: - Cesare received an outstanding, carefully planned education. He was brought up at Rome by private tutors until the age of twelve, in 1489 he left Rome to attend La Sapienza of Perugia, where he studied the foundations of law and the humanities, being placed under the charge of the preceptor Giovanni Vera of Archilla, to whom btw, he remained warmly attached until Vera’s death in 1503. In 1491 he continued his studies in Civil and Canon law at the University of Pisa, attending the lectures of Filippo Decio, one of most rated lecturer on canon law of his day. There he also became more acquainted with the Medici family, through Lorenzo de’ Medici sons: Giovanni de’ Medici and his brother Piero. - Paolo Pompilio, a Spanish scholar, dedicated his treatise on verse-writing, the Syllabica, to Cesare, where he praised him as ‘Borgiae familiae spes et decus’ (the hope and ornament of the House of Borgia). - His father, as Cardinal and Vice-Chancellor, invested a long list of benefices upon him, to name only a few: when he was seven years old, pope Sixtus IV conferred upon him a prebend of the cathedral’s chapter of Valencia. In 1483 he received the title of rector of Gandia and archdeacon of Játiva. Later on, with pope Innocent VIII he was granted the position of treasurer of Mallorca’s cathedral, following that of canon of Lérida, Archdeacon of Tarragona and then treasurer of Cartagena’s cathedral. By 1491, Innocent at last granted him the bishopric of Pamplona. - He learned the art of bullfighting from the Spanish members of his father’s court and it became one of his life passions. Whether in Rome or in the Romagna, at any celebration, there was almost always a bullfight and he was almost always participating himself. - He also loved hunting, so he was always looking for good hunting dogs and falcons. On May 28th, 1497 he even sent one of his men, Enrico, to Germany to request from the Archbishop of Mainz some “well-trained and sagacious hunting dogs; their quality to be more important than their number.” - He was the first person in the history of the Church to resign the cardinalate, eventually becoming commander of the Papal armies. - He was briefly hostage of the Colonna during the conflicts of the French Invasion in 1494, and later on hostage of the king of France, Charles VIII. Although that time, he escaped their camp at Velletri, with the help of a man named Francesco del Sacco, officer of the Podestà of Velletri, who was waiting for him with a horse. Cesare sped back to Rome going to the house of one Antonio Flores, where he stayed for a night and informed his father of his presence. The next day, he withdrew to the city of Spoleto, and remained there until matters cooled off. - In 1497, a sword was forged for Cesare, known as “the queen of swords”, for his visit to Naples as papal legate, to crown the new king, Frederick of Naples. Its design was attributed to many artists including Michaelangelo, but it is more likely that the artist was Pinturicchio. And the blacksmith/sword engraver was Salomone da Sesso (c. 1465- c.1504–21) who after his conversion to Christianity assumed the name of Ercole dei Fedeli. (more details about the sword here x) - Cesare appeared wearing a horned mask in the guise of a unicorn during a theatrical performance, in one of the many festivities held in honor of his sister Lucrezia’s second wedding. Unicorn are known symbols of female chastity, possibly a reference to Lucrezia and her wedding night, but it also shows off Cesare’s own sense of humour, since it was well known to all present that he was anything but a chaste man lol. And the unicorn horn, according to a Greek physician had the ability of protecting people from sickness and neutralizing poison, which could have been another humourous remark from Cesare in reference to his family’s reputation of using poison to dispose of their enemies. - His best known mistress was Fiammetta Michaelis, she was a cultured courtesan from Florence, but who lived in Rome since 1473 most likely. Her relationship with Cesare was such that even after his death in 1507, she continued to sign herself as Fiammetta Ducis Valentini (of the duke Valentino). And her will in the city archives was headed ‘The Testament of La Fiammetta of Il Valentino.” - On May 10, 1499, he married Charlotte d’Albret, and before his departure from France he appointed her governor and administrator of all his lands and lorships in France and Dauphiny. He also made her heiress to all his moveable possessions in the event of his death (a little more about that here x). On December 1501, he personally selected precious gifts to be sent to her acquired from Venice. It included moulded wax, white sweetmeats, fine sugars, syrups, nine barrels of Malvoisie, oriental spices, oranges and lemons and all kinds of cloths. - Under his patronage, the first printing press of any importance was established in Italy. It was set up at Fano by Girolamo Sancino in 1501. One of the earliest works was the printing of the Statutes of Fano for the first time in January 1502. - About his administration staff, also in the year of 1501, we know he had a beautiful young woman from Bologna named Jovanna, working for him in his chancery. She’s described as a “degnissma scriptora”, she wrote letters and maybe did other secretarial duties as well for 14 ducats. - Whether it was treachery or a legit, reasonable move against Guidobaldo's own plans of treachery against him, the fact is that Cesare acquired Urbino without bloodshed in any of the towns, in a brilliant coup that amazed the whole of Italy (and terrified the nobility lol). While leaving a military contingent at Camerino, Cesare road north through the Apennines, between Nocera and Urbino he covered more or less sixty miles in forty-eight hours with a mixed force of 2.000 men. Before anyone else knew, he had already took Cagli, inside the Duchy of Urbino. Simultaneously, two other points were taken too, Montevecchio and San Lorenzo. Di Naldo, one of Cesare’s captains came from the east. These three armies converged towards the capital of Urbino then, where they met with the castilian and the garrison was rendered by him. A few hours later Cesare himself entered the city without any resistence. - The famous Sleeping Cupid by Michelangelo that Cesare gifted it to Isabella d’Este when he took Urbino in 1502 had a history together. He had previously been the owner of this piece. Cardinal Riario Sforza bought in 1496, but apparently when he found out that the piece was a modern piece and not an antique, he didn’t wanted it anymore, so it was displayed across the street of Cesare’s palace and he bought before the end of the year and later on send it as a gift to Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino. - A popular canzona of the time, Donna contra la mia Voglia by Filippo de Lurano (c.1470-c.1520) was Cesare’s favorite song. (There is an excellent version of it too by conductor and composer Jordi Savall). - As another step to secure the unity of the Romagna, Cesare did a reform in legal administration of great importance, he established a supreme Court of Appeal, named the Rota, influenced by the famous Court of the Vatican with the same name. He appointed as The First President, a newly created office, to Antonio di Monte Sansovino, a distinguished jurist with high integrity, and who was universally beloved. This Appeal Court sat in the seven main cities of the Romagna: Fano, Pesaro, Rimini, Cesena, Faenza, Forlì and Imola. If it was necessary, this Court would sit for as much as two months. All expenses were met by a payment from each of these judicial circuits of 200 ducats per annum. - In October 1500 Pinturicchio wrote to Cesare asking for the grant of a well to be put in one of the lands pope Alexander VI had bestow on him and his descendents at Chiusi, a city in the province of Siena, but near Perugia. Pinturicchio went himself to see Cesare at Diruta to request for all the necessary permission. Cesare issued a letter to Alfano Alfani, vice-treasurer of Perugia, making the request and saying that: “he had again taken to his service Bernardino Pinturicchio of Perosa, whom he always loved because his talent and gifts; and he desires that in all things he should be considered as ‘one of ours.” This initial request wasn’t honored so Cesare wrote again to this Alfani reinforcing his wish to be granted within that year. In 1501, Pinturicchio was given an annual payment as Cesare’s personal painter as well. - Cesare hired Leonardo da Vinci as a military architect and engineer in the spring of 1501, he entrusted him with all sorts of projects, in Cesena for example he asked that Da Vinci planned a new quarter of the city with wilder streets, sidewalks, parks, and a functioning sewage system and many other improvements. He also issued papers from the city’s headquarters for the construction in Cesena of a new university building, a palace to house the Rota. - Cesare also commissioned Da Vinci to work on an alterpiece, that is now lost unfortunately, at the Santuario della Beata Vergine del Piratello, outside of Imola. Some scholars agree that Da Vinci at the very least begun this painting, but it was not finished by him. There are some sketches he made that are called: Three views of a bearded man and it’s generally accepted to be Cesare, in what might have become a portrait of him in this alterpiece. - Right after he conquered a city, it was Cesare’s policy to issue a stem proclamation against plunder, guaranteed the property of the citizens. At Forlì he took measures to safeguard the convents, listening to all complaints of ill-treatment or robbery at the hands of the soldiery. On December 7, 1500, he hanged from the windows of his headquarters, two of his own men, a Piedmontese and a Gascon soldier, who had disobeyed his orders against plunder in the town. On the 13th of the same month, other offenders followed the same fate as the first two, which showed his zeal and the level of his commitment for the interests of his Forlivesi subjects. - At Cesena, as in other places in the Romagna, that same policy was applied, the usual disorder was put to an end, and civic automony was fully restored, along with the suppresion of aristocratic feuds, which resulted on econonical security and internal peace. - During the conquest of Faenza, the only city where Cesare met a true resistance, he retired to Cesena through the winter months while the siege kept going there. One night, he was walking around the city when he found a baby girl abandoned in the street, he commanded the baby to be nursed, and settled an ample dowry on the baby’s mother until she was of marriageable age. Afterwards, when the father refused to acknowledge the girl as his own, Cesare himself acknowledged the girl and she was baptized that day. - On March 29, 1501, when he was informed of Beatrice of Naples arrival at Cesenatico, twice Queen of Hungary and of Bohemia, and sister of Frederick of Naples, he send off his staff to greet her and to present her with a 'royal gift'. He ordered his lieutenants to honor her in every city in the Romagna and the Marche region, where she made her way back to Naples. - On 1502, Cesare and his father, Rodrigo went on a boat trip to Piombino and the island of Elba so that Rodrigo could officially take possession of these territories Cesare had recently conquered. Everything went smoothly, and they were on their way back when a violent storm began, hitting them hard. During 5 days they wandered aimlessly. Everyone, but Rodrigo, were quite anxious and scared. At the second day, the crew saw an English ship, and Cesare proposed to go to this boat to request for help, but Rodrigo refused, not wanting to request help from strangers. Eventually they made it back ashore, but it was a close call there for them for awhile. - After the masterstroke at Senigallia, where he successfully arrested his conspiring condottiere, the city was in total confusion, and a part of Cesare’s infantry were starting to sack the city, so Cesare in full armour and on horseback gave orders for his men to stop the sacking immediately, he then gathered some of his captains and went about the city streets putting a stop to the abuses that were starting to happen, some soldiers however, refused to obey his orders, and they were promptly executed there for their disobedience. - On 25 October, 1506 he managed to escape the Castle of La Mota, in Spain, a fortress that at that time worked as State prison, of maximum security, and where he was imprisoned. With the collaboration of his chaplain, and a servant of the governor's, named Garcia, along with the outside help from Count of Benavente, a powerful lord from the neighbourhood, who visited him regularly, he managed to climb down the 40 meter high tower with a rope, and if memory doesn't fail me, he was the only prisoner to have ever managed to escape this prison lool.

#anon ask #ask answered #cesare borgia #césar borgia #house borgia #historical facts #a few of these facts are only found in cesare italian bios #(alvisi and sacerdote)#and some of them are not found in any biography about him at all #if the internet wasn't a thing #and if i wasn't so curious and obsessed #i'd have died without ever knowing about it basically djsdjsjd #and i find that unacceptable and it shows how his own biographers tend to ignore a lot of interesting details about his life #bc they are usually stuck on this same ridiculous formula of presenting him #and some of these info doesn't fit in the general profile they like to present him as nor with their narratives #so it's mostly ignored by the vast majority of them #anyways idk if that was what you wanted anon #but i hope you like it!#it was fun to make it #<3

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calamitousrpgarchive · 4 years ago

Photo

SIGN UPS ARE NOW CLOSED

The roster’s updated; ring names pinned to the front of the SR as sign up slips make their way into waiting hands. Most are voluntary, nobody questions when a couple of slips come in from a single person, an entry is an entry.

The slots are filled quickly, name after name streams in and the chosen champions give themselves a few days to prepare, every behind the scenes arrangement is made and on SRS day, the champions find that they’re treated like royalty. There’s unfamiliar faces leading those nominated to decorated tunnels that surround the sandy ring itself. An armoury offered with the exact amount of requested equipment – large trunks with the champions’ names are found as the weapons housing.

Inside, the order of events –

Before it can be read, a rumble from the Slaughter Ring’s caves has everyone looking up, for a moment, it’s mistaken as the crowd outside roaring and jeering to see blood. It still could be, the energy of the Slaughter Ring carries right across the North; one of the most anticipated events of the year always brings the crowds. But this rumbling is closer, like a train reverberating up the tunnels at an unrelenting speed.

Some of those with more adept senses are already backing out of the armoury – shaken for just a moment before there’s an echoing whisper that reaches the champion’s ears:

“Here’s your warm-up before the first round, champions.”

And the Southside ceiling collapses, no chance to process the recognisable tone when the competitors are finding any exit they can as rocks from above threaten to come down and crush them; jagged, purposeful chunks of stone that intend to do a little more than harm.

As fast as it comes, its over.

If adrenaline wasn’t already running through the veins of every champion, it certainly is now; glances are thrown suspiciously in every direction, most are looking for those who didn’t make it out; there’s less bodies standing there in the wings of the ring. SRS organisers are near enough rushing at them, checking for casualties, ushering the designated groups to their private wings organised in factions before they are to put feet on the sand.

Everyone that’s still holding their match roster notices – as if by magic, those missing and likely beneath the rubble of the armoury are also absent the fight line-up. (It doesn’t take a genius to work out how organised a sabotage it had been.) Everyone has their own theories; perhaps an eradication of those districts attempting to put additional champions in their ranks, though, something darker sits in the minds of some where they swear they’ve heard the ghost-like voice before.

There’s eight names struck out; casualties before even the SRS has begun. Most bring the champion count down from the usual four and at a slight disadvantage as a group – however two names stand out above the rest; if only for their notoriety:

Prince Quintus “The Pirate” Zander of the Forgotten and Tranterdor ‘Troy’ “The Lover Man” Dazzoth of the Dominion.

Mourning isn’t an agenda within the Slaughter Ring and its likely that their names would be announced as losses at the end of the SRS. Only the Champions seem to be aware of the tragic accident that sets up the Slasher for a questionable start.

Another voice cuts through the Slaughter Ring, this time, from overhead speakers:

Welcome to the one-hundred and twenty-first Slaughter Ring Slasher, citizens of Calamity. We apologise for the delay, but Round One shall begin shortly, above you you’ll find the line-up, alongside the standings for how each Champion is pitted; we promised you blood; we always deliver.

A pause, a shuffle on the speakers, before:

There has been a slight change to the Champions, but nothing to worry about, the Knockout’s will commence forthwith. [END] Static silences the voice.

Tradition stands; the Knockouts, a head-to-head, show of strength that acts as an opener – one rule; get your opponent to concede, if they don’t, then knockout is putting it kindly.

Bring on the blood.

ROUND ONE

I. Valerie “The Mistress” Sylla vs. Aslyn “Chaos Wolf” Bishop II. Lorelai “The Missing Half” Mackie vs. Josiah “The Ill-Advised” Maxwell III. Corvina “The Hellcat” Alkera vs. Demitri “Honeypot” IV. Cardelle “Ace of Spades” Mackie vs. Liliana “Khanivore” Solar V. Max “The Valkyrie” Roper vs. Ariel “Atlantis” Tarren VI. Boone “The Unawakened” Morris vs. Axel “Thor” Reyes VII. Dayanara “The Piranha Queen” Lighcrest vs. Esme “Scarlet Witch” Darcy VIII. Bram “Mac Rhys” Mackie vs. Jack “Legendary” Davenport IX. Garrett “The Dark Wolf” Kaelstrom vs. Ragnar “Fenrir’s Claw” Lothbrok X. Izyk “The Exiled” Vissar vs. Azarius “The Souleater” XI. Kondor “The Trident” Tarren vs. Ripley “The Ripper” Bell XII. Jasper “The Daring Chicken” Dalton vs. Alistair “Adonis” Adams XIII. Oberyn “The Viper” Cortes vs. Azagi “The Fury” Rabaz XIV. Mike “The Mad Wolf” Fothergill vs. Evan “The Hurricane” XV. Jake “The King’s Guard” Juarez vs. Lobo “Sad Moon Moon” Vasquez XVI. Hazel “The Vigilante” Warren vs. Rhysand “Star Boy” Darkwood

The names are called in order, I - XVI and is the fastest way to determine who makes it to Round Two. The Crowds are cheering and the Champions who didn’t sign themselves up to begin with are less than happy about the forced participation since their names are already plastered bold across the callboard.

Bets are being placed; Kochba is being slid into all the conman’s hands and wars have every ability to be waged on the sands. The losses earlier in the night sit unpleasant in the back of the Champion’s minds, a strange occurrence that reminds how dangerous the SRS is; how easy life can be taken, even for immortals. There’s no way someone in the ring planned the sabotage; cheating their way to victory this year?

Eradicating the competition and leaving district representatives short Champions; less to defeat, but those who were there, know that everyone in the backrooms were accounted for; as at equal risk; suicidal to cave a room in with those responsible within it, surely?

The SRS is only fun, right, Champions?

Better get ready to R U M B L E....

ADMIN NOTE: SRS day is HERE. Everyone who wants to be is gathered in the Slaughter Ring; the ringside seats are packed, there’s bustling from every angle, all trying to get the best view of the sandy ring itself, the Champions are in the wings preparing to watch; front row seats to their comrades and competitors fights. Heat and tension as the anticipation hits peak for them.

Champions can thread their fights, discuss in your pairs results or if you want that randomised too, please let us know, we’ll dice roll success/fails on hits/punches or whatever your pairing lead to! Or, you know, if your Champion retreats/runs and is deemed a coward. Whatever. ;) You can also thread being in the Champion wings with other Champs whilst you wait for your fight to go.

Then of course, everyone else in attendance can spectate, discuss around the ring, maybe ponder why the standings suddenly changed and names went missing dun dun dunnnn. But everyone will eventually notice that there is uneven champion reps due to the accident as they look at who’s left in the ring. This justifies why there’s extra champs in other districts... to you know... fill numbers... suspend your disbelief...

Any questions, please let us know! Also, update us on victors for the next rounds (and you know, if ... they’re still fight-able...), we’ll open up the event discord channel again as we do during events and you can discuss and place your bets ooc on people too if you want. All for fun y’all, we love you, peace !

R.I.P. Troy & Quintus. (We’re off to a good start with Nova at the reigns.)

This next part (round) will drop 18TH FEBRUARY 18:00GMT ! Please keep us updated with where you’re at results wise by then, or if you need more time!

#calamity.event #event: slaughter ring slasher #pastevent

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hermannsthumb · 5 years ago

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newmann + 12?

12. Family Gatherings

from domesticity prompts here

dug WAYYYYY back in my askbox for this to about june 2018….this is one of the very first prompts i ever got sent in lmfao. consider it a sequel to the gottlieb family reunion fic i wrote last summer (on the day of my graduation party, how weird is it ive been out of college for a year). anyway this is just a short little fic bc ive had some major writer’s block lately

———————

There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“I know you’re in there,” Newton calls. Three more loud, rapid knocks follow; the doorknob jiggles; Hermann backs up against the sink, bracing himself to be barreled over by a five-foot-six ball of annoyance, but, thankfully, the lock holds. Another knock. “Seriously, dude?”

“I don’t know who you think I am,” Hermann calls back. He eyes up the window contemplatively. Could he fit through it? Perhaps, but there is the matter of its being on the second story and a significant distance from the ground below. A younger Hermann might’ve achieved it, but, now–with his leg– “Please leave,” he says. He could hide in the closet and make it look like he escaped through the window. Newton would never be dense enough to believe it, though.

“Dude,” Newton says.

Hermann sighs and makes to unlock the door. Newton charges in a moment later, tie askew, cocktail sauce staining his shirt collar. “What the hell, man? Everyone’s looking for you!”

“I know,” Hermann snaps. “Why else do you think I’m up here?”

Newton had been irritated, perhaps even on the verge of igniting a new eardrum-bursting argument (and they’ve been so good with each other lately, how sad), but–at that–the tension leaves his shoulders, and his face falls into careful, if not surprised, neutrality. “You’re hiding?” he says. “From my family?”

Hermann gives a short, humorless laugh.

The Gottlieb family reunion had been uncomfortable for an endless bounty of reasons, though there was one factor in particular which saw to it that Hermann especially did not enjoy himself: out of the forty-odd people in attendance, Hermann could count on one hand those who wanted him there. The Geiszler family reunion is uncomfortable for the exact opposite reason: they like Hermann. Beyond being a Geiszler’s partner, even: he’s liked for himself. He’s fetched drinks, and hors d’oeuvres, and plates of food; he’s patted on the back, hugged by Newton’s father; he’s teased for stealing little Newt’s heart; he’s congratulated for his studies, for his accomplishments, for his wartime work, and he’s asked questions, and he’s complimented, and he’s paraded back and forth to repeat answers to questions, and–

“Yes,” Hermann says. “From your family.”

For a moment, Newton does nothing but chew on his lower lip. Then, shutting the locking the bathroom door behind both of them, slides down to the floor. “Here,” he says, and pats the tile.

There’s a stinging edge of hurt in his voice Hermann does not like the sound of. He protests anyway. “It’s cold, Newton.”

“It’s fine,” Newton says. “Look, sit on the bathmat. How about that?”

The bathmat in question is threadbare and badly discolored, though Hermann can still make out the design of what appears to be a fat bluebird sitting on a branch. He obliges Newton’s request with a small grunt–the ground is cold, even through his wool trousers, and the bathmat doesn’t help at all--but at least they’re at eye-level now. Newton watches him settle in with a frown on his face and his arms folded across his chest.

“So,” he finally says. “Why are you hiding from my family?”

“It’s not--” Hermann sighs, and casts his eyes to the ceiling. “Newton, it’s not like that. I like them fine. Only--I’m a little...” He drums his fingers on his knee. “Overwhelmed, is all. You’ve got to understand that.” Newton’s equally overwhelming personality, he supposes, makes a great deal more sense now. A lifetime of unconditional love will do that to someone. (The smaller dose of it Newton’s given him is intoxicating enough.)

Newton uncrosses and crosses his arms a few times; he sighs. There’s a faint pink lipstick mark on his cheek an aunt left behind that Hermann knows has a twin on his own forehead. “Yeah,” Newton says. “I guess I get it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s--”

“I was just so excited for you to meet them, you know?” Newton says in a rush. “I talk about you all the time. I did even before we were together. And now that we’re getting, like, serious--”

“Are we?” Hermann says, corner of his mouth quirking up.

Newton reaches out and swats his arm. “We are, you asshole. We’re super serious. We’re gonna get, like, married.”

This is news to Hermann, but--unable to help his broad smile--he doesn’t argue the point. Instead he says “Who was the man who greeted us at the door?” It was clearly a Geiszler of some sort, with a healthy smattering of freckles and Newton’s nice nose, but far older, and grey-haired down to his bushy beard. Privately, Hermann can’t help but think he’d be very happy if that was at all an indication for how Newton would age. Lately, more and more bits of grey have been cropping up in Newton’s stubble, and (though Newton whines) it’s a terribly attractive look on him.

“One of my dad’s cousins, I think,” Newton says. “Why?”

Hermann clears his throat. “Ah--no reason. Shall we go back downstairs?”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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sharpnothashtag · 3 years ago

Text

The Good Ship CrushWay, Chapter 50

The drones are in regeneration mode again, and we see a big sweep of them all. One drone's eyes open. They gasp. They start pushing their way out of the formation and to the door. The security officers rush toward them. Seven of Nine stops the officers with a gesture and approaches them.

Seven: State your designation.

Drone: Two of Seven, Tertiary Monitor of Trimatrix 3510. We are malfunctioning.

Seven: State the problem.

Drone: We are experiencing the effects of empathy. It was in this drone's previous DNA--they were El-Aurian. This drone needs to be disassembled and returned to the hive hub to be used for spare parts.

Seven: You are on the USS Aiftadaa. We have come to return you to the way you were. What was your name?

Drone: Kovan.

Seven: I was once Annika. You said you were experiencing empathy. Tell me more about that.

Kovan: I felt a soul despair--as if someone they loved had died.

We see Bev lying on the floor next to KJ's body. Patrick is kneeling next to her.

Patrick: Beverly. It's been 10 minutes. We need to at least let Data know. (Bev lies there, looking into KJ's eyes, barely even blinking.) Please, Beverly. Please get up. Or say something. (no response. Patrick taps his combadge.) Patrick to Data.

Data: Data here.

Patrick: Please report to Sick Bay.

Data: Is something wrong?

Patrick: Please. Report to Sick Bay. I need your help.

Data: Understood.

Data enters Sick Bay. He sees Patrick standing next to Bev's head. He approaches.

Data: Is Kathryn still with us? (Patrick shakes his head.) Is Beverly okay?

Patrick: She's been lying on the floor looking into her eyes since she passed about 15 minutes ago. I can counsel her, but I don't know what to do with the body. Or what ship's functions should be. So I called you.

Data: First, we need to do an autopsy to determine cause of death.

Patrick: The EMH can do that. I can program him to do it without having to have the whole thing be explained.

Data: Good. Next, we need to get Beverly off the floor and into your office. I will do that.

Patrick: Good. Since you're her Number One (voice cracking) I suppose you'll have to take over. Are we going back to Utopia Planitia?

Data: I will set the course once I return to the bridge. There is no need to prematurely upset the crew, so I will tell Daneel privately and then let the rest of the crew know once we arrive at Deep Space 9.

Patrick: That's right--we are closer. Data, will you let me know when we get close? I need to take care of something when we get there.

Data: Of course. Go program the EMH. I will set up Kathryn's body for the autopsy. Then I will bring Beverly to your office.

Patrick is sitting in his office. Bev is catatonic, staring at the ceiling. Patrick's chair is by her head. He strokes her hair, not saying a word. Back on the bridge, Data enters.

Data: Ensign Paris, set a course for Deep Space 9.

Tom: Aye, sir. Is the Captain okay, sir?

Data: We will discuss the Captain's condition at a later date, Ensign. Daneel, will you join me in the ready room? (Daneel nods. They retreat to the Ready Room. As Data starts to tell Daneel about KJ, Seven calls him.)

Seven: Seven of Nine to Data.

Data: Go ahead, Seven.

Seven: I need you and Lieutenant Daneel in Cargo Bay 4. This is urgent.

Daneel: We're on our way, Seven. I guess you'll tell me whatever it was in the turbolift?

Data: That is a good idea.

in the turbolift

Data: The Captain is dead.

Glasses: (in shock, after a minute) I don't know what to say.

Data: To paraphrase a 20th century musical, "there is nothing to say. Nothing that's not been said."

Glasses: So it's alright that I am not going to say anything?

Data: Yes. Silence is a perfectly acceptable response to horrifying news.

They stand in silence and exit when the doors open. They enter Cargo Bay 4. Seven of Nine is preparing Kovan for surgery. Once she notices they've arrived.

Seven: This drone is related to Guinan. While I've never met her, I know El-Aurians are extremely powerful. Their name is Kovan. Dr. Crusher needs to perform the surgery on this drone as soon as possible.

Data: Dr. Crusher is not well. The surgery will have to wait until we return to Utopia Planitia.

Seven: Someone on the ship has died. And they know why.

Data: (addressing Kovan) How did you know about Captain Janeway's death?

Seven: WHAT

Glasses: (going to her) It came as a shock to me, too.

Kovan: We felt something leave. We felt someone's soul fall into despair. Someone on the ship died, and someone who loved them is here in anguish.

Data: What caused her death?

Kovan: Q.

Seven: Bastard!

Data: Can you help us communicate with him?

Kovan: Yes.

Data: Come with me.

Data brings Kovan to Sick Bay, interrupting the autopsy.

Data: Bring Q here, Kovan.

Kovan: We ask for the presence of the great Q, hoping the continuum will spare him.

Q: My friend, Data! You've called for me using this...impish species. What seems to be the problem?

EMH: Excuse me, what the hell are you all doing in my sick bay?!

Data: Computer, deactivate the EMH. (EMH disappears.) Q, you have explaining to do.

Q: What, Kathryn? She's safe. Why?

Daneel: Is she alive?

Q: Dead, alive...it's all the same at this point.

Kovan: No, it is not. There is someone here in complete despair. We have been a drone for 20 years, and their despair reached us. Surely a being such as yourself has seen how the Captain's loved one is grieving.

Q: Who, the Doctor? She'll live.

Glasses: Do you always play with the lives of others like this?

Data: Yes, he does. Q, what will it take to bring Kathryn back to us?

Q: I couldn't possibly bring her back.

Data: Yes, you can. You can change the gravitational constant of the universe. You can bring back the dead.

Q: I suppose "could" isn't the right word. I'm more than capable.

Data: What do you want in return for her?

Q: I want to take Patrick with me. (everyone is pretty surprised) Patrick and I have had a wonderful relationship.

Kovan: We are sensing that the joke you are attempting to tell is not funny.

Daneel: You're damn right.

Q: I want to take Patrick on an adventure. If he wants to come back and work with you all again, I'll bring him back.

Data: What would the purpose of this excursion be?

Q: I believe your beloved humans call it a "first date."

Daneel: (awkwardly) Q. Hey. The name's Daneel. Nice to meet you. It has been my understanding through my study of dating practices that both parties need to have an interest in the other on some level before a first date can happen.

Q: Not so when you're a Q. It's a bit of a kidnapping.

Data: In Starfleet, kidnapping is still illegal. Also, Q, do you want Patrick to feel the same way about you?

Q: Ideally, yes.

Data: Then you must ask him politely if he would like to go with you. Given your history, you may also want to promise that he will not be harmed.

Q: Fine. We will do it your way. (Snap. All of them are in Patrick's office.)

Patrick: What the hell are you doing here?!

Q: I must say, Patrick, it's a delight to see you again as well.

Patrick: Daneel, will you sit with Beverly for a moment while I take care of this nuisance?

Daneel: Gladly. (Daneel walks over and sits with Beverly. They play with her hair gently as the rest of the scene goes on.)

Q: A nuisance, am I? Honestly, Data, I don't know why you want to be like them so much. So rude.

Data: Patrick, it would be best if the two of you spoke alone. I am going to explain all I can to Dr. Crusher about these circumstances.

Q: Alone? Mmm. Some place a bit more secluded--perhaps this will do? (Snap. They are both in a bubble bath covered in rose petals. Patrick immediately sinks under the water trying to hide his chest.) Patrick, my dear, I've been wanting to tell you something for a long time.

Patrick: Can it be told to me while we both have clothes on and are standing at least 6 feet apart in an open space not covered in rose petals?

Q: (eye roll) fine. (Snap. They are both clothed and 6 feet apart in Patrick's quarters.) Better?

Patrick: Yes--very. What do you want?

Q: Do you remember when I first began to call on you?

Patrick: Vividly.

Q: I said originally that the Q continuum wanted to destroy you because they found you to be savage. I lied.

Patrick: (incredulously) Really?

Q: Really. I discovered you and found you fascinating. I wanted to play a little game, and you put up quite a fight.

Patrick: When an entire race is on the line, one cannot stop fighting.

Q: And that's very noble of you. I admire that about you. So I came back again and again to play and to find out more about you. And I discovered something. (Patrick gestures for him to go on.) I am attracted to you.

Patrick: (blinking) what

Q: Yes, I was ashamed, too. But I simply cannot help myself. So I wanted to get your attention.

Patrick: Is this where Kathryn comes in?

Q: Look at you, getting smarter every time you play with me!

Patrick: Just tell me.

Q: I saw Kathryn was near death. I played a little game with her. She is dead, but that isn't a permanent thing. She could come back and live with her wife for the rest of her days like she so desperately wants, if...

Patrick: If what? Please just spell it out for me--I'm rather tired.

Q: Will you go on a date with me?

Patrick: (laughing in spite of everything) What does a date look like for a Q?

Q: (inching closer and closer) For us, it could look like visiting the ruins of Jouret IV before they were destroyed. Or even before they were built. Getting to go back to LaBarre and meet this incessantly nagging Robert. We could go sailing on the pools on the rings of Saturn. All these and more. I want to show you the entire universe, Patrick. And it could all start right now.

Patrick: If I go on one date with you, you'll let me do all things I've wanted to do since I was a boy AND also bring Kathryn back from the dead?

Q: Yes, Patrick. Wherever you say, we'll go.

Patrick: You need to swear to me that no one will be hurt. No one in all of history and certainly not anyone here now.

Q: (with his right hand up) On my word as a gentleman.

Patrick: Let's go back to see Beverly. I need to talk to her first.

Q: As you wish. (Snap. They're back in Patrick's office. Bev is sitting up and rocking back and forth. As soon as she sees Q, she bitch slaps him across the face. Then she goes to Patrick.)

Bev: You have to go with him. Please.

Patrick: I owe you.

Bev: No, you don't.

Patrick: Yes, I do. I sent Jack on that mission.

Bev: Don't do this for me. Don't do this for Kathryn. Do this for you.

Patrick: Excuse me?

Bev: Go on a date, Patrick. Have fun. Do what you've always dreamed of. And make this bastard pay for taking my wife away from me.

Q: Mostly well put.

Data: Before the two of you go, we would appreciate your presence at the reception.

Q: Reception?

Daneel: We went ahead and planned one for this evening in case Patrick said yes.

Patrick: (turning to Q) Can we?

Q: You know I can't say no to that face.

KJ is in her white tux, and Bev is in a long white dress. They all look so happy as Data plays "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You."

Q: (walking over to Patrick) May I have this dance?

Patrick: You want to leave already?

Q: (...hand still out) no. I thought I made it clear that I want to dance with you. Will you dance with me?

Patrick: (reaching out to take his hand, laughing a little) Yes.

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imagine-that-one-thing · 5 years ago

Text

Her Majesty. || 5

Against All Odds.

The morning of the Royal Ascot has been nothing short of chaotic, between dress changes and carriage rotations, everyone has been a mess, especially Harry. Every year, the Royal Ascot tests his abilities and how well he can handle change. He hates the Royal Ascot, and he has reason to hate it so much. With every public outing there are revised plans that he has to go through, he has to know every entry, every exit, every underground area, he has to know every plan like the back of his hand. He has to be on high alert and if one plan changes even slightly, they all change and it sends security into a whirlwind of anxiousness. Every minute of the event is generally planned, from when and where the carriages arrive, to how long we spend greeting people.

Over 300,000 people make the annual visit to Berkshire during Royal Ascot week, that is over 300,000 people Harry has the privilege of scanning and observing, it is much harder to take note of things when there are too many people to have to notice. But, every year, Harry manages and the rest of security manage to make things work.

I shuffle out of my bedroom and I glance to my left where Harry is standing, like he always is, his hands behind his back, his lips pressed into a fine line, and his clothing attire being of which he always sports to events— suit and tie.

He stares at me and smirks softly, “You look beautiful, as always,” He whispers sweetly, causing the butterflies in the pit of my stomach to arise. “Absolutely beautiful,” He adds, his hand grazing the edge of my white Reiss Peacock dress.

I nod my head, giving him a meagre smile as my maids step out of my bedroom, not giving me a chance to speak to Harry or to steal a kiss from him.

Harry escorts me down the stairs and when I reach the bottom. I frown for a moment, unsure of why my Prince is not waiting for me. I gaze over at Harry and he smirks, continuing to walk with me across the marble flooring and through the palace to the exit door.

Harry and I step outside into the cool air of the morning summer, there’s barely a cloud in the sky, the birds are chirping— it is the perfect day for the Royal Ascot. “Why are you smirking? Where is Henry?” I softly question, curious as to where my fake boyfriend is. A real gentleman and Prince would have been waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs instead of having my bodyguard escort me down.

Harry holds his composure, continuing to silently escort me along the path of the gardens before we stop in the private driveway. I stand for a minute, my head cocking to the side as I stand before Henry, my Father and what I presume to be a thoroughbred.

Harry unlinks his arm from mine and resumes his position behind me. “Good morning, Princess,” Henry greets, his hand holding a lead rope as the horse stands tall, not moving in the slightest.

“Good morning,” I respond, “Why is there a horse right here?” I challenge my Father. I don’t suspect that now is the perfect time to want to play with horses.

My father smiles broadly and places his hand gingerly on the horse, petting it ever so delicately, “Prince Henry bought you a horse, how thoughtful.”

“You bought me a horse?” I question, gazing towards the prince.

I hear Harry stifle a laugh from behind me, “How thoughtful,” Harry pipes in as I stare at the two men in front of me, hopeful this is a joke.

I may be royal, but I do not do horses. I am not an equestrian. It is a royal tradition for royals to learn how to ride, however, I am the exception to the rule. Growing up, my parents’ would put me on horses, I could ride around accompanied by a parent, but to ride alone, I could never do it. I never trusted the horses enough to be able to saddle one up and go for a leisurely ride on my own. After the first few panic attacks and fits, my mother convinced my father to let it go and to allow me to stick to things that were more up my alley. I am the only royal who cannot ride a horse, everyone else is well trained, which means I tend to watch the polo matches from the sidelines while my father participates. Every now and again, the King and Queen will ride around Windsor Castle estate, but I do not participate in their morning rides.

My mother loves horses, when she does not have royal duties, she can usually be found at the stables watching her horses train or she is participating in the training herself.

“Father, you know I do not ride,” I inform my father who is conscious of my lack of riding abilities.

“You will have to learn, a Queen must know how to ride, come here and take the lead rope, we can walk her to the stables.”

My heart begins to beat fast at the simple idea of stepping any closer to the horse who is far from a Shetland pony.

“Your Royal Highness, Princess Anastasia needs to be heading towards the procession, as do you, you are presenting the winning trophies in the King's Stand Stakes, don’t forget,” Harry informs the King of the fact he is currently cutting that fine line and about to ruin the schedules that have been set.

For once, Harry’s set times are a blessing in disguise.

My Father looks down at his watch and nods his head, “Take Anastasia and Henry,” My father instructs, taking the lead rope from Henry and beginning to walk the horse himself.

Henry steps closer to me with a bright smile, he takes my hand as he glares towards Harry. For a moment, I hold my breath, feeling the overpowering testosterone rising between the three of us. Harry doesn’t say a word, instead, he gestures his hand for us to walk in front of him.

My heels sound against the concrete as we make our way towards the white horses and carriages that will accompany us to the track promptly by 2 pm. Each day of the week begins with the Royal Procession, when The King, Queen and accompanying Members of the Royal Family arrive along the track in horse-drawn landaus. We then spend the day watching the races from the Royal Enclosure. It’s always intriguing to walk alongside the carriages and to see who is riding with who. Most of the time, the lineup is picked for media attention, hence why my father ordered for Henry to be in the carriage with me, usually, I sit alone and across from me is usually a royal couple.

I mentally roll my eyes when we stop at the second Royal Carriage that is accompanied by Annabel, Duchess of Wessex, and Prince Louis.

Prince Louis and I grew up together, we always played on the grounds of the palace and we’d spend hours chasing each other around the gardens. We always kept security on their toes, and things didn’t change until he met his duchess. She holds no high title by blood but she tries to act like her title is rightfully hers. She’s what I like to call a stuck up royal. She and I have never seen eye to eye since the moment we met, and we probably never will see eye to eye until the day we die.

I stand politely, awaiting for Prince Henry to assist me with stepping up into the carriage, but he forgets his manners and etiquette and instead hops up himself, taking a seat as if I am not standing here. Without sounding too much like a princess, I am baffled and quite appalled by his lack of nobility. The lady ALWAYS enters the carriage first, there is no exception, it is common cutesy.

“Princess,” Harry offers his hand, offering me a sweet smile. I press my hand in his and he assists with getting me in the carriage, of course, without the help of Henry who is too busy adjusting his tophat. Harry nods his head towards Louis and his partner before he impolitely places an umbrella in the lap of Henry, “Hold this for Princess Anastasia.” Harry instructs before closing the carriage door, leaving Henry irritated.

Prince Louis is kind enough to introduce himself to Henry, taking control of the situation and calming Henry by taking the Umbrella and placing it to rest against the carriage door.

♔

I’m not much of a fan of the horse races in the aspect of having to be a Royal and treat this as an event, there are eyes always on me and I still have to act in a certain manner. I can thank Queen Anne for turning horse races into a royal activity. Ascot Racecourse was founded in 1711 by Queen Anne and ever since has been a major event that royals attend.

The Royal enclosure, however, is quite lovely. The Royal Enclosure was built in 1822 when King George IV commissioned a two-storey stand to be built with the surrounding lawn. This was designated an exclusive area with access strictly by invitation of the King. To this day, membership to the Royal Enclosure continues to be by invitation only. Every individual who has a membership and will be in the Enclosure is monitored and a background check is thoroughly run. Harry knows of every person who will be in the enclosure and he has to watch their behaviour. He hates it just as much as he hates being out in the public areas, but the good thing is that being invited to the Royal Enclosure is hard. To get in without a direct invitation, one must sign up, which is easy, but what the hard part is providing letters of recommendation from two existing Royal Enclosure members who have themselves been members in good standing for a minimum of four years— this is where Harry’s job gets a little easier, for the most part, new entries don’t happen often. The only thing Harry enjoys about this event has nothing to do with the horses, he isn’t formally allowed to bet since he is on duty, but he likes to bet on the colour of Her Majesty’s hat. It is a tradition that people bet on what colour they believe my mother will wear, and it is such a big deal that not even I know what colour my mother’s hat is until I see her in the morning and sometimes she will change hats before arriving at the venue.

Henry stands beside me, rambling on about his knowledge of horses and trainers, and I cock my head to the side with a meagre smirk, keen to put his expertise to the test. “Well, bet on a horse,” I motion towards the betting stations set up. If he is so great with horses and knows the trainers, he will be able to pick a winning horse.

Henry nods his head and lifts his shoulders into a shrug confidentially, almost as if he is shrugging me off, “How much are you betting?”

I grow withdrawn for a moment, unsure of how much to bet, I am not much of a better, to be quite honest, Harry and I place very diminutive bets between us just as jokes, we tend to bet on the horse with the least odds and chuckle to ourselves when they are the last to finish— we like to take a chance on the least favourite of odds. “What? Too scared to bet? I’ll give you money to bet.” Henry nudges me and I find him to be a bit arrogant and not playful.

I offer him a polite smile, “Two-thousand,” I respond, “How about you?” I challenge.

Henry adjusts his suit jacket and scoffs, “Twenty-thousand, go big or go home, sweetheart,” Henry uses a condescending and impudent tone with me. I don’t need to turn around to know Harry is far from impressed and more than likely has his fist curled into a ball, angered by the tone that has been used on me.

I gesture towards the betting station and I allow Henry to wander off while I stand in the same position. I clear my throat as Harry steps closer, closing the small gap behind me. “Are you betting?” I question softly as I glance over my shoulder.

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “I love you,” he manages to whisper just for us to hear as nobody is around us.

I smile to myself and I turn around to face him and I mouth I love you back to him as I point towards the betting station. We both walk towards the betting station and Henry steps closer to me with a smug grin, his ticket in his hand. “So, which horse are you betting on?”

I shrug my shoulders, unsure of which horse to pick as I have said, I have always betted for the fun of it and chosen the least likely to win horse. As Henry continues to stare at me with that self-righteous grin that irritates me, I turn to Harry, “Suggestions?”

Harry narrows his eyes on me and I bite my lip— I have stepped out of line— I was not meant to turn to him and bring him into this. Harry shakes his head, “I cannot participate.” His participation in betting is meant to be kept between him and me.

“Of course you can, mate, it’s jus’ for fun,” Henry pipes in, pressing his hand to Harry’s shoulder as if they are best mates.

Harry eyes Henry, his jaw clenching at the touch of Henry but Harry holds his composure and forces a small smile as he clears his throat, “If I was to bet, I would try my luck with horse number eight.” Harry informs me.

I glance at the odds and I take a chance on what Harry suggests, Afterall, it doesn’t really matter if I win or lose, this is all for entertainment and an endeavour to hopefully kill Henry’s ego.

“Well, place yourself a bet,” Henry signals between Harry and the betting station as I step to the side, managing to take Harry’s side.

“Put me down for one-hundred pounds on horse eight, please,” Harry instructs as he continues to keep his eyes shifting, still doing his job and not letting his guard down.

Henry laughs, “That all? The Palace not pay you well?” Henry questions and I shake my head at him, disappointed.

A prince should not act in such manner nor should a prince ever speak down to someone, especially when it comes to wealth. It is none of Henry’s business how much Harry earns or cares to spend. I am not sure what has gotten into Henry, but he is lacking royal etiquette and he is lacking human decency. My Father would be appalled to know the man he chose to be my boyfriend, the man he wants to see as the King beside me, is currently being condescending not just to myself but to others as well.

Harry clears his throat before raising a brow, “Make that ten-thousand,” Harry ups his bet, taking us all by surprise, especially me.

The lady holds the ticket out and Harry gestures for me to take it, he can’t step any closer than he already is, if he does, he breaches his defences and he puts me at risk because his back will be entirely turned and he no longer has a view of everyone. I take the ticket between my fingers and I smile towards Henry, “Well, may the best horse win, let’s go get our spot,” I smile, ready to finally take a moment to sit down for a moment while they prepare for the last race of the day.

I sit and watch as the horses are walked along the track, making their way to the gates where they will be tested with how well they handle the commotion of everything.

Moments later, all horses are situated and the gates open; the horses are off and the crowd cheers.

The horses reach the last three- hundred meters and I watch in awe as the horses compete, two of them neck and neck as the finish line gets closer and closer. I bite my lip nervously, my foot tapping as the excitement and joy flow through my veins, I can hear the enthusiasm of others getting louder, cheers exasperating as the horses continue to run.

I glance over at Harry as he is standing beside me, his lips curving up into a grin as he takes a moment to watch the race, catching the last few moments. I look back to the track and I am left stunned, jaw-dropped, you could say. The two horses that were neck and neck have fallen behind and a new leader takes over the position of first place. I gasp, my heart beats faster while the horse Harry and I picked takes the lead and puts a fair distance between the other horses.

“Oh, my,” I breathe out while Henry attempts to cheer his horse that is struggling to keep its position of fourth place.

I do my best to hold my composure as our horse reaches the finish line.

Harry picked the winning horse, he put Henry to shame and managed to kill his high strung ego.

“You won,” I happily exclaim, nudging Harry as he stands, looking unamused due to his job, but deep down, I know very well and good he is pleased with himself.

Harry shakes his head, “I believe it is you who won, you have the ticket,” Harry winks just as Henry throws his ticket up in the air dramatically.

“Bloody horse,” Henry utters with a huff. “And it was a Filly I lost to.”

I smile graciously and tenderly nudge Henry in a playful manner, “Look’s like the best horse won, huh,” I chuckle, “It’s okay, what happens on the track, stays on the track. Even if you did lose to a girl.”

Henry glares at me and I notice his jaw clench, and it is in this moment I realise he isn’t being playful and that he is taking this seriously. He shakes his head at me and steps away, “Henry,” I call but he ignores me, he hurries away and loses himself in the crowd of others before I can manage to bat an eye.

I look towards Harry, unsure of what just happened. Harry doesn’t say a word, instead, he stays in bodyguard mode, simply watching the people around us and keeping a close eye on the particular small crowd in front of us on the track.

I am unsure whether I am meant to chase after Henry or whether I am meant to let him go. I am not one to chase, especially when I am not in love with the man and by the looks of things and by how he is acting today, he isn’t remotely in love nor interested in me. He is self-absorbed and he has shone an unsatisfactory light on himself in public. With so many eyes being on us, there has to be at least one person who saw what happened and is willing to report it to the media. This isn’t the kind of publicity that we want or need.

I gaze towards Harry, looking for some sort of guidance. I see Harry roll his eyes before he sighs heavily, “Do I really have to do damage control?” He questions and I nod my head, narrowing my eyes onto him. I can tell he doesn’t want to do damage control, he couldn’t care less about Henry and he hates the fact that Henry is currently on his service as well. Harry tilts his head to his left shoulder slightly, “Horse Boy has galloped off, trotting south of my location.”

I raise a brow at the code-name selected for Henry, I am well-aware Harry had to have chosen it. The alternative names given are used over secure networks so that bodyguards can ensure that he will be able to move the royal family members in and out of specific locations. Code-names change on a basis so that nobody catches who is linked to each name. “Horse boy, really?” I challenge Harry.

Harry lifts his shoulders into a small shrug, doing his best to conceal the smirk painting across his lips, “Let’s go. He is heading to the stables.” Harry instructs, gesturing for me to head in the same direction that Henry took off running in. I pick up the umbrella that we have been carrying around all day before I make my way along the path of Harry’s directions.

Harry and I attempt to locate Henry, but it is a struggle when I am stopped every few steps to talk to other royals on their way out or to simply smile for a camera. The last race has ended, which means everyone is beginning to make their way out, just as I should be, but instead, Harry and I are trying to get to the stables to where Harry assumes Henry has run off too.

It is beyond me on how my father managed to pick such an ill-fitting prince to be my partner. I am starting to wish I had of had my say and picked myself, better still, I should have come clean about the relationship between Harry and I. But, at the end of the day, I know that our relationship will not be accepted. If only people placed their bets on us, even with the odds against us, instead, people prefer to place their bets on the more superior. I always go against the odds but right now, the odds are against me, therefore, I am against myself.

I feel a droplet of rain grace my skin, I look up and notice the ominous clouds forming over us, making their way across the sky in a swift manner. I open my umbrella and I step off the gravel path. I walk along the grass, attempting to reach the very edge of the fence where horses are just now starting to make their way to the stables.

I carry the umbrella over my head, the rain coming down heavily, patting the umbrella brutally but creating a moderately calming tone. If I had been told that my day would have ended in a Prince acting like a child and running off, leaving me in the rain unsure of where he is, I would have laughed. I never expected to see a grown man throw a temper tantrum, especially in public.

I welcome a hand press over mine, “Allow me,” Harry instructs, taking the umbrella from my hand. Harry holds the umbrella over me while he stands in the rain and the umbrella shields me from the intense rain.

I turn to face him, “Stand under it with me.”

Harry shakes his head, “I’m not allowed. I will hold the umbrella. A Princess does not hold her own umbrella… Your Prince should be holding it.”

“He is,” I respond with a small wink before I turn back around and continue walking, the rain coming down heavily on us while we make our way closer to where the horses are stationed and unwinding before they will be transported to their stables.

I glance around, disappointed that the man who is intended to be my boyfriend appears to have disappeared and left me in the downpour to combat the media and the crowds on my own. He was here to serve as a purpose, not only to show his presence as my boyfriend to everyone who wasn’t at the garden party but to also draw attention to a new budding romance that could turn into more. My father needs the media to spark its attention towards us— the monarch is ready to change— my father wants to hand over the reins and pass down the crown but he can’t do so unless the public is on his side and approve of not only me as the queen but my partner.

“I’m sorry, Anastasia,” Harry distracts me from my thoughts as I observe the horses from a distance being walked around.

I turn to gaze at Harry, facing him as he continues to keep me dry from the rain, meanwhile, he’s wholly soaked. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry your Prince left you.” Harry appears sincere and genuine with his apology.

He and I both know that I am the one who will have to deal with the backlash of whatever Henry has caused on today’s outing.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug. I don’t have words to say. This isn’t Harry’s fault. This is all my fault. I truly have nobody to blame besides myself. I am the one who is being held to high standards thanks to a monarchy.

“Why do you look so sad?”

I look at Harry as he continues to stand in the pouring rain while holding an umbrella over me like a true gentleman, “The odds are against me; the odds are against us, Harry.”

“It will be okay, Anna.”

I shake my head, “This is my fault. We don’t know where he went, he could be doing more damage. I-I, I am sorry I didn’t just tell everyone about us.”

“Shh,” Harry hushes me immediately, “We will figure it out. Henry will be fine, right now isn’t the place for this discussion, we are being watched.” Harry informs me and I heavily sigh.

The worst thing about having my boyfriend as my bodyguard is that sometimes when he is on duty he has to stay strictly as my bodyguard and can’t step into boyfriend mode.

“I’d like to go home, please,” I inform Harry and he nods his head.

Harry takes his phone out and makes the calls he needs to in order to assure everything is in order for me to leave promptly and without issues.

Harry escorts me to a blacked-out car with his head of security waiting by the car with an umbrella. Whenever the head of security is waiting for me, it means Harry is handing me off.

“Matthew will take you to the Palace,” Harry informs me as I step under the head of security’s umbrella, allowing Harry to finally hold the umbrella over his own head despite the fact he is already soaked, his hair is damp and droplets are falling from his soft curls, his white shirt has become slightly see-through I can see the slight outline of his abs as the shirt clings to his body.

“Why?”

“You’re right, she does ask a lot of questions,” Matthew chuckles, “He needs to go find Henry, Plus, you said you preferred my service better, I am not as stiff as Harry,” Matthew lightens the mood with a small joke, finally forcing a small chuckle to escape my lips.

“Finally, she smiles,” Harry grins, “I will come past your wing when I get done.”

I nod my head and I quickly look around to make sure nobody is around to be able to hear me speak. “I love you,” I softly whisper.

“I love you, too,” Harry responds before pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Get in the car. Let’s get you home safely and without a big exit like the garden party.” Harry opens the door, returning to bodyguard mode and gesturing for me to get in the car.

I get into the car with ease and I rest back against the leather seats, glad to finally be closer to getting home. Today has been long and tiring.

I view Harry and Matthew talk outside and I watch them intently for a moment, curious as to what they are discussing. I can only assume most of their conversation right now will be revolved around finding Henry. Having a Royal on the loose is not something anybody wants. What I don’t understand is why Henry is so short-fused and why he felt the need to run off like a child who was told he couldn’t have the last slice of pizza.

As Matthew gets in the driver’s seat of the car, I watch Harry walk off into the distance before the car begins to move. I stare out the window, watching the droplets of rain slide down.

I lean my head against the window and close my eyes for a moment but I am quickly distracted by the sound of Matthew’s voice. “He loves you, you know?”

“Harry?” I question, “Did he put you up to this conversation that is about to take place?”

Matthew chuckles as he looks in his rearview mirror at me, “Am I talking to the Princess or?”

“This is off the record. I am off royal duty.” I respond, assuring Matthew that whatever is said in the car will stay in the car.

For the most part, conversations between Harry and Matthew are generally off the record. Sometimes they are the only times I get to feel the sense of normality. Everyone else treats me like a princess and always wants to discuss politics, royal duties etc.

“He’d do anything for you, all you have to do is say the word.”

“I know,” I nod, “I didn’t think the first public outing would turn out like this. I thought it would be easy to have a fake boyfriend and to let this ride out until I can figure things out. This will be my Dad’s last year as King, what am I meant to do?”

Matthew clears his throat and grows quiet for a moment, his eyes focusing on the wet road as he again begins to drive. “Would you like my honest response?”

“Have you ever known me to want you to sugarcoat?”

“Anastasia, he wants to marry you, you know that, right?”

I roll my eyes and scoff, “Yeah, okay.” I know Harry has mentioned it before, but that is only because we learned of the news that they want me to be married before taking over the throne.

“I am serious, he genuinely wants to marry you.”

“Well, he has yet to get on one knee with a ring,” I respond, “I wish things were easier.”

“Well, things could be easier if you would let Harry handle it. He knows what he is doing, Annastasia, he can handle what he is getting into.” Matthew responds and before I can respond, the phone rings and he answers it, leaving me in the backseat while he drives and continues his phone call.

♔

The moment I enter the palace, my world is turned upside down and my Father pounces on me like a lion on its weak prey. I can only thank Henry for this. That asshole.

My father is a great man, for the most part, but when he is angry, he is furious. He can’t always control his temper and that is something the public does not know. The public only see the lower side of his temper, they see the relatively calm and collected King. Me, on the other hand, I get to witness the King at his full capacity of anger and it is far from fun. My father can be relentless, he is like a dog with a bone, which is why he is so good at making foreign deals and running a monarchy, he does not take no for an answer, nor does he take shit from people. Of course, he handles himself in a royal matter but with a hint of dominance.

My father wastes no time with laying into me, “How many stunts do you anticipate to pull off?” My father questions, his eyes narrowed to crinkled slits, his crimson with fury as he stares me down.

My lips screw into irritation and I take a moment to come to terms with the fact that the King is yelling at me in front of the staff just as I have managed to walk into the palace. “What?”

“First your stunt at the garden party and now this? Anastasia, I expected more from you.”

“Excuse me? My stunt at the garden party?” I challenge with a raised brow.

Surely my father cannot be serious right now.

“You had to be rushed away from fainting at the announcement, I had to do damage control. Then today Henry pulls this stunt all because of you? Why were you so rude to him? He bought you a horse and you thank him by being rude? I raised you better.”

My brows bump together in a scowl, my body stiffening at the words my father speaks.

Me? Rude? I think he has me mistaken for Henry.

I would like to know how this has become my fault. I never wanted Henry as my boyfriend, to begin with, and I never wanted to parade him in public.

“Do you think I faked fainting, Father? Have you scooped that low? Is the monarch rules so important to you that you are willing to accuse me of such a thing?

“You’re the one who has forced me to this extent. You wouldn’t pick a partner.”

“Well, you picked an utter asshole to be a partner. Excuse me, I am going to bed before this turns into more of an argument.” I step around my father and begin to make my way to the staircase.

“We will finish this in the morning,” My Father sneers, “What are you all staring at? Get to work,” He grumbles towards the staff that has gathered near and around us.

I ignore everything and I make my way up the stairs and to my wing where I shut the door and ignore all the commotion of what is going on.

♔

I hear the sound of the secret door rattling while I am half asleep, and for a split second, I panic, but quickly come to the realisation it is likely Harry.

I hold my breath as the door opens and he steps into my room. He is still in his damp clothes, his hair is a mess and I can see he is exhausted. I sit upon my elbows and take a better look at him. His pant legs have grass stains and his button-up is ripped on one of the sleeves.

Harry shakes his head instantly, “Don’t ask,” Harry mutters, stepping closer and leaning down to kiss my cheek. “Jus’ came to check on you. Heard your Father was quite angry.”

“You already heard about that?” I softly ask.

Harry nods, “The Palace talks quickly, it was the first thing I heard about when I got in the car.”

“Well, I am glad to have amused you and the palace staff.”

Harry sighs, “I didn’t mean it like that. I have some work to do, I will see you in the morning.”

“You’re not staying?” I question.

Harry shakes his head, “I have more work to do, I am soaked and need to change. Goodnight,” he leans down and kisses my forehead.

Harry walks towards the secret door and I stop him for a moment, “Harry, can I ask something personal?”

Harry hums his response and turns to look at me, awaiting my question. “Why were you so confident in betting so much money on a horse?”

Harry grins for a moment and he lifts his shoulders into a meagre shrug, “Sometimes it is good to go against the odds, my darling.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It is my horse. The odds were mostly against her, but I had faith in her and the jokey, sometimes all it takes is a little faith. I knew what my horse was capable of, others didn’t.” Harry informs me, “Just like I know what we are capable of, others aren’t. I need to go, I love you.” Harry leaves before I can muster up the right words to say.

The odds are against us but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s willing to take a chance on us, so why can’t I swallow everything and take a chance, too?

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