#me: i hate my life (doubled over in pain while translating) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollgram · 7 days ago

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assigning kairiki bear songs

translations from vocaloid lyrics wiki unless specified

005

Darling Dance

there’s nothing, there’s nothing, i have nothing, you hear me? can't change, can't change, i can’t change, you hear me? i don’t get it, i don’t get it—“i get you,” no, you don’t get it, alright, i’m hiding everything but the eyes in my photos!

worthless, my da-da-da-da dulling dulling darling (lol), how very funny! it seems like a dubious theory for love, but sure, i'll keep pleading for your attention. in my worthless da-da-da-da darling’s mind, i'm just filthy and dirty, please quench my urge to see you, da-da-darling!

nananananananana, nanana nanana– my purity gone, fading in and out of emotion, nananananananana, nanana nanana– my innocence gone, pouring all my sappy feelings into a worthless darling. (smooch!)

Mellomelloid / Attract-oid

you gotta come meet me this week! waah, i’m so lonely! i’m crying, so gloomy… sniffle, sob, ‘till my face is bright red, that kinda thing… …well, they’re totally fake tears, aren’t they? lol

you’ve already become hopelessly infatuated with these eyes, and now vulnerable, i gulp more down! all my cells are biting, biting - you’re so much that i could eat you up! now vulnerable, i’ll gulp more down! my disguise has been busted, and i’ve already completely gone wild!

Unhappy Birthday (TL)

(next, next year, next year) surely everyone, (next, next year, next year) every one of them, (next, next year, next year) will get bored, (and just leave me.)

(another shot,) i'm doubled over, (choke it down,) i tie the rope, (1 2 3, i say,) i want to disappear.

unhappy birthday-day-day, sings the pile of trash-trash-trash. having an imaginary party in the mud-mud, wildly flailing and dancing-dancing-dancing, “erasure.”

Mao / Cat

pspsps, cat, cat, aren't you a cute little cat? you try crying mournfully and grinning sweetly up at me, but i don't notice, so you jump! cat, cat, who are you? even if i try to inquire, you quite clearly can’t convey the answer to me.

that's the way!

isn’t it natural to put on a bold front? (isn’t that natural?) the truth is, i want to groom myself to my heart’s content. (meow, meow, meow, meow!) coexistence? you joking? not a chance! (not a chance!) bye-bye-bye! affirmation generally involves a nod. running around dejected, i’m met with hardship, hardship. how charming. this late in the game, i’m feigning innocence more than ever, meooow!

Carnival Happy

give it all you've got, pa-party, let's play! (now laugh! good kid, good kid!) let's shout, “what time does it close?”

out of range, bound hand and foot, a deer in headlights, (don't cry! good kid, good kid!) hey, it's true: you only smile at the best stuff, right?

please, please, please, don't leave me behind, please, please, please, look at me, right by my side, please, please, please, praise me, gimme a pat on the head, let's play on the hopscotch squares! let's play...

Alkali Underachiever

i give it my all until my face is red from exertion, “unoriginal”, “underachiever”– i don’t wanna hear it...

ruruka ririka lula lilalulala– don’t hate me, i want to know the meaning of my mud-smeared existence. ruruka ririka lula lilalulala– don’t leave me behind, i’m surrounded by darkness, so i can’t even see ahead of me.

006

Ángel (TL)

the crimson blood covering the seducing blade, the meaning of existence, go shade it, go shade it! the work of a servant, it's karma, it's all worth it, a life filled with bullshit, we're spinning and spinning around...

ah ah, break down cynically, 1 2 3! isn't it so painful? desperate life, life, life, life– sew your heart with an incision, 2 2 3! for this junky future, we'll make it shine again!

Carnival Happy (TL (only some parts))

yeah. le-le-let's go, let's go- let's- it's all fine, fine. i kept fighting, and fighting, while screaming: i don't like this! i can't do it! i can't bear it anymore– open up, open up, open up the “unknown!”

yeah. le-le-let's go, let's go- let's go, it's f-fine, i made a mistake, a mistake, let's “mayday”! i'm trying hard not to cry, the kids who can't do it go missing, “peek-a, peek-a, peek-a-boo!” more bad things will come, with our hands, with our hands, let's clap with our hands!

Telesto-Teles (TL)

a terrible spectacle that's all but dazzling, my innocence goes bye-bye. living through it is honored hypocrisy; hey, it's the rule of justice.

riiight. where is my happiness? unhappiness is painful, but surely the skies will be clear tomorrow? what i saw...

(wa pa pa pa, wa pa ra pa ra pa)

i'm walking, walking recklessly now, losing sight of the meaning (of being here), the uncharted unknown– huh? huh? in a limp mirage. even tonight, the world, after the clouds, turns into a sunny day, a self-proclaimed peace prize. the right answer is a feeble image of friendship and love. (limply-limp-limply...)

Down Timer

i can’t go back after all, i can’t go back after all, the neverending darkness, the struggling, the crying, it all just sucks. that kind of life – burn it!

therefore, the loneliness of my heart, let it rip my body to shreds, tear it apart! embrace the pain tightly and let it blossom– yes, the throbbing screams of my heart, crawling and tearing apart the ground, the once clear light is withering away – i will do a good job!

Heart Nonsense (TL)

there's nothing left in me. there's nothing left for me. (pain, pain, go away. pain, pain, go away.) everything is a big, heavy mess. it makes me feel smothered, dizzy. (pain, pain, go away. pain, pain, go away.)

i've done a good job of tearing away my depressed mask, and i've thoroughly deceived the truths i've denied.

please, rid me more of my heart. please, destroy more of my heart. come, cry out in pain, my dear heart– the jokers are scattered; please, corrupt more of my heart. please, defile more of my heart. come, dig deeper into the wounds in my chest, try it...

Anatasama

o you, o you, it's already a desired response to your overtness, o you, you will destroy the rebellious, encumbering human race!

o you, o you, it's already a rampaging, overt realization, o you, you will eradicate the crude, "annoying" human race! i'll destroy the entire human race, o you, hey, o you, hey, from the brains of skeletons are many of you!

007

Mage of Violet (TL)

lightly, lightly being dyed purple, from here on out i'll continue to protect you; go and release the spell of miracles, and make your smile bloom like a flower.

glittering, this is directed to the depths of your heart, continue being just the way that you are; it's like a magical power that, you see, can make everyone in this world smile! urapa papa pararira, then if you sing, we're together forever, aren't we? surely forever, aren't we?

Mental Chainsaw (TL)

d-d-d-d-down ↓ getting worn down, d-d-d-d-down ↓ living sure is hard, d-d-d-d-down ↓ tomorrow and beyond that, no matter how much you try, it's a strike-out!

this annoying hate, oh– no, no, i say no! no, no, and i say no, no, no! these annoying limits, oh– no, no, i say no! no, no, so let's all roar! a-a-a-au!

Hate Girl

ugh, hating, hating, hating– any and every thing, it's dark, it's dark, it's dark, ugh, everyone, everyone, everyone– feeling apathetic, they turn a blind eye to it all, it's what they're good at! (yeah!)

hating, hating, hating– hating this disaster hating, hating, hating– pretend to be tough, yeah! shaky, shaky, shaky– even this severe pathology is just faking-ism, run-ta-ta-ta! (yeah!)

hating, hating, hating– hating that i was born, hating, hating, hating– make a circle, yeah! dizzy, dizzy, dizzy– now i'm emotionless with this cutting-ism, run-ta-ta-ta! hating girl-ism, run-ta-ta-ta! (yeah!)

Bug

let's see, it's a bu-bu-bug, now, bug, bug; ta-ta-tag, it's just talents tagged as such, ugh, i'll pe-pe-peel, peel my emotions away, this onset of "pain" is no good, no good, no good… no, no, no!!!

well! a terrifying emotional drop, it's all the pa-pa-para paranoia! i raise my drowned-out voice and go round and round; well! it's a desperate situation, i'm doomed to fall no matter what i do! surely, surely sinking, no, no, no!

let's see, it's a bu-bu-bug, now, bug, bug; your affection is just off the mark-ark, i hate it so! let's see, it's a bu-bu-bug, now, bug, bug, the answer is so weak, i hate it! i hate it!!

Neroism

this phenomenon hurts, it hurts! a pitch-pitch-black phenomenon! preced-ced-ceded by symptoms of bright-bright-red inflammation! this phenomenon hurts, it hurts! a headlong phenomenon! an entire life of my an-an-anguished emotions plummeting in free-freefall!

i de-de-de-de-ny it, i de-de-de-de-de-ny it, ny it, ah, (at this point) from my inner self to my very existence, i deny it all, aha! i de-de-de-de-ny it, i de-de-de-de-de-ny it, ny it, ah, (at this point) whatever happens now, it's fine, so i don't want to hear it! i don't want to hear it!

Ruma

time after time, i stumble—yip yip yip—and stagger around unsteadily, i'm going numb... the right answer disappears—bark bark bark—wait! i can't seem to find the exit either?

give me love; scream out your feelings recklessly until you're hoarse, it will not stop— laugh off the x marks, the blood plasma in your heart dances about in a bright red, i put forward that there is no correct answer—dun dun dun dun! (awoo!)

Failure Girl (TL)

ah, see, i scraped my skin again, how many times does this make? here, see, my traumas keep oozing out, no matter how i try to hide them. ah, see, i've held it in again, making it seem like it's no big deal, how good i've gotten at this. just, see, they may say anything about me, i'm showered with their disdain and covered in bruises.

this suffocating feeling is making me quiver, this inferiority complex is making me dizzy, i can't breathe, i'm completely empty inside.

Lemmingming

hey, having little to no salvation is the norm here! meaningless and unproductive abuse, i want to say goodbye to this world that fails to thrive off of true madness.

insulting each other, envying one another, we hate each other so!

all we pull are incorrect answers and even though we try to dive off the cliff and die, ah, nobody gives a single damn! not one! the normalities i've refuted that made me all alone are already so numerous... held by this neverending pain, i can't see anything in front of me.

Venom

in exhaustion mode, our lives are “suffering”, it’s a deadly poison in our school–give in to it, give in to it! (a magnificent knight–when pretending to be happy, win or lose, you die by a lack of productivity.) regrets are already “lonely”–smile, smile!

the recipe for my heart is flavored with attention-seeking; i’m a nirvana junkie. i pretend more and more to be strong, and end up face-down in the mud. gulping down the poison, feeling pain, crying, there’s no coughing up this veno-venom– goodbye.

008

Electrostatic Human (TL)

i'm terrified of being laughed at. opinions are dangerous. this whole world makes me ill at ease. thus, i bristle, as if electric, to shake free of everything, “don't touch me like you know me,” i seem to say.

the cats and the crows, they all stay away from me. in the dark, i'm completely by myself, just as i wanted.

i try to be strong, try to be strong, try to be strong, but it just hurts. whenever i come into contact with something, there'd be a prickling pain at my fingertips. i want to touch, want to touch, want to touch others, but i can't. i'm just a coward, a pest. for me, there's no accomplishments, no “right answer”, nothing.

Mao / Cat

i avoid the public gaze, and in a graceful manner, i want to pull back the nail that doesn’t stick out. retreat, retreat, retreat! the world i dreamed of that day gave me a touch on the back.

jeez, who gives a damn, damn? it pisses me off! (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!) who gives a damn, damn? it's already over! (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!) that’s why i’m saying “meow, meow!” that’s why i’m always by my lonesome! i've gotten used to it, and been laid up in bed with it, and i've cried many times over it.

Bug

spinny-spin, going insane! crack! warning! wait, this isn’t gonna work— spinny-spin, spinning at the count of 1, 2! (insane, insane,) aah! crack! warning, yeah, this really isn’t gonna work— spinny-spin, my feet chained, (insane, insane) endless pain, huh? haha!

squeezed, squeezed tightly is an unneeded child, pa-pa-para, paranoia; good girl, good girl - the one flooding the chat with "good job" is the administrator, aah...

Minus Label

falling down, i nosedive, and it gets worse. i want to face forward, but i can't, and so i feel down.

i'm an underachiever, labeled and taken ahold of by my neg-neg-neg-neg-negative thinking. indecisive throughout the year, i can't take a single step.

i feel stagnated, all i'm doing is getting better at this love-love-love-love-loveless fake smile. i can't even retrace the steps of this emotional lost child.

Lemmingming

searching around for the owner of the blood i'm soaked in, my screws come loose and i'm high from the praise, i'm putting up with all these sneers, so don't look at me! don't look at me!

hey, this barely existing friendship dwindles away bit by bit, regret is so uncool, and yet it increases steadily, i want to say goodbye to this contradiction evading us from this plague.

criticizing one another, resenting each other, we fight each other so much!

“ ” State of Heart (TL)

cry, cry, constantly winning awards through the year! “do your best–” huh? always butting in all year long! yeah, this is brutal, forget exemption, let's just close the school! i'm actually always burning myself out all year long!

my head, banging like a drum– this is proof that i exist! my head, banging like a drum– “(blank)” state of control over the heart! my head, feeling hollow– the future is unknown! my heart, always wandering– and i've been feeling sentimental all year round! already feeling sentimental 'bout everything!

People Allergy

no one, no one, no one, i can't cling to anyone, the tears fall drop by drop. i seek ideals and ideas like those found here, there, and anywhere.

i hate people, but, to be honest, it's myself, someone who's weak and nothing more, whom i hate more than anything with a burning passion.

Logica

i wonder, at that disastrous scene i finally reached after much reckless struggling and wandering, in the path i took, or the way i lived, where is it that i went wrong?

now, even if i searched for the answer, searched for the answer, and wished with all my being, this weakness lurking in the dark is gnawing at my heart. but even now, i can elucidate my doubts! i affirm that i live! i can’t send out an sos. tell me the meaning of drifting without taking a breather, and living until morning.

Venom

my heart is full of helplessness; i’m a helplessness junkie. i pretend more and more to be strong, and end up face-down, in pieces. gulping down the poison, feeling pain, crying, there’s no running away from this veno-venom.

oh my, flirtiness, loneliness, poison flowing continuously; c’mon, give me more love, make the pain go away. presence, “message read,” don’t you want some poison? more love, love, love, love– destroy it, venom, no!

009

People Allergy

i'm scared of people, so i shut myself away, if this friendship is only surface-level, i don't want any of it, not one, not one bit.

wi-wi-wi-with these bold-faced lies, laughing at me, betraying me, the pain that's created a damp spot on my chest just won't go away. e-e-e-even though my red, swollen heart has gotten all worn out, even today, every now and then, i still end up getting hurt.

Affection/Sadness Underachiever

hey, just for you, a never-ending love on 1, 2, 3! hey, all of these smiles, i want them offered up just for me, just for me, and yet…

hey, ririka, ririka, now, now, every time i long for you, my heart makes me dizzy. hiding a love with nowhere to go, look, it's dyed bright red.

and that's why ririka, ririka, right now, i'll be right by your side, yes, with our insoluble bond, i don't want you to be taken away by anyone, anyone... don't leave me behind.

Unhappy Birthday (TL)

sewing tragic “ideals” to my heart, i scrub the distress of my brain. already sterile, my emotion switch is set to off, no future in sight.

(no, it won't reach) all this wailing (no, it won't reach) with my dried up heart, (no, it won't reach) everyone, everyone (is nowhere to be found.)

(another shot,) i wish for (choke it down,) someone to hug, (1 2 3, i say,) i want to dream it, at least...

Mount Rita Girl (TL)

and that's why i just really love you, love you, yes, you, only you! can't you just see it? the marginal morality. come! now everyone's just loving with such irony! it's really the best of thrones, sss!

(cry) (cry) (cry) an inferior mayday, with eyes that hold onto grudges; unseen and unappreciated by the love of my love! (cry) (cry) (cry) with this inferior love, to the front of the long extended line; by the poisonous fangs of emotion, choke feverishly! on this throne of emotion, sos!

Neroism

there's no real reason, there's no real meaning to it. cradling my super-delicate heart tightly, tightly in my arms, i become just a bit nihilistic, more compatible with the world. by now it's hopeless, my heart's swollen up—

this phenomenon hurts, it hurts! a pitch-pitch-black phenomenon! preced-ced-ceded by the symptom of—is that a loop? well, what now? this phenomenon hurts, it hurts! a headlong phenomenon! an-an-anguished as i've been, have i been a fool my entire life?

Mellomelloid / Attract-oid

you’ve already become hopelessly infatuated with these eyes, seriously, i love, love you so much! (i love!) all your cells are melting, melting with my love, my love! no matter how hopelessly infatuated you become with these eyes, i’ll love, love you so much! (my love!) the fantasies, the fantasies are overflowing - i’m full to the brim with these feelings.

head swimming, i-i love you! a head swimming i need you, seriously, i love, love you, lo-lo-love! a head swimming “one more time!” head swimming, i-i love you! a head swimming i need you, seriously, i love, love you, lo-lo-love! head swimming, i seriously won’t ever let you go. i’m already head over heels in love! a head swimming, i need you!

Electrostatic Human (TL)

unsteadily, i try to push myself to the limit, only to find myself endangered, hindered, injured. i just want to flee, i think as i shake in fear, papapa papapa papa.

i'm terrified of being disliked, it clouds my eyes, and in the end, it turns into a malady. thus i bristle, as if electric, to get through life, “just don't mind me,” i seem to say.

even if i become fed up with anything and everything, there's simply no hope for me, as you can see, i've ended up all on my own.

Mag Mell

oh, these violent emotions dizzily come, leading to a reeling strife. oh, sadness spills out, there’s a mushy and corroded beating in my chest.

oh, my heart wanders around, leading to a reeling death. oh, staying at home is pure torture, a throbbing bpm pounding uselessly.

i have nothing left now, i have no dreams now, you've been taken away. ah, i don't care who, i just want somebody to be by my side...

tightly squeezed by a magic choker, i trip into the depths of my dreams. everything is of no concern anymore. the pitch black that takes up my sight is inviting; i have nothing left to lose.

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akicult · 3 years ago

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an anon asked for relationship hcs, so here you go <3

random levi headcanons

ft: levi ackerman, hange zoë

cw: fluff, levi’s smitten hehe, brief mentions of alcohol, hange being levi’s bsf, idk

—

- he’s always cold. everytime you lean into him to cuddle, you always shiver because of how cold he is.

- he’s protective over you. very. he doesn’t want to lose you, and often he fears one day he could.

- he’s not a social media fan, but he made accounts just to follow you and like your posts. you’re literally his only follower. he doesn’t even have a proper username or profile picture.

- for some reason, i don’t know why, but i feel like levi would love blueberries. like, he’s just always eating them.

- if you call him, he’s immediately answering the phone. longest it ever took was three rings.

- never, ever drinks. except for one time and he got super drunk after only having a couple drinks. such a lightweight.

- if you thought levi sober was clingy, oh boy. he literally couldn’t let go of your hand.

- he’s not super affectionate, though. you’re usually the one to kiss him first. but if you havent kissed him in a while he’ll slowly grow more upset & impatient.

- however, he will compliment you. even if he’s a little shy about it.

- “you look really nice.” basically translates to “you are absolutely gorgeous i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you” in less words.

- you know what he really means.

- you always say i love you, in which he usually responds with a hum and a nod or a quiet “me too.”he just doesn’t usually express how much he loves you in so many words.

- how he does express his i love you’s;

- he makes you dinner every night. he’s a really good cook.

- always waits for you to finish showering before he flushes the toilet <3

- does your laundry & always makes the bed when you wake up.

- buys your favorite foods from the grocery store without even double checking.

- stays quiet if you end up taking all of the sheets when sleeping. it’s fine, he can use a pillowcase.

- listens to you rant even if your story is confusing and all over the place.

- let’s you watch whatever you want on tv, even if he finds it boring and asinine.

- he’s very gentle when he’s with you. he feels that if he’s too rough, he might end up hurting you. which is the last thing he’d ever want to do.

- loves giving you massages. if you look like you’re even in mild pain, he’ll always ask if he can rub your shoulders or something.

- not big on physical contact, but there’s nothing he loves more than your hugs. especially when you just come up to him and hug him.

- he loves that you already know how he’s feeling. the slightest change in his body language and you just know something’s off. even if he isn’t trying to send that message. the fact that you just know makes him happy.

- you like messing with him sometimes. like, if you’re just texting each other something so casual, even boring, you’ll just send him a nude mid conversation.

- he’ll just stare blankly at his phone for a second thinking about why tf u did that. then he’ll probably heart the photo & continue the conversation as normal.

- he would totally have a folder of your nudes tho if he knew how to do that LMFAOO

- the only time he ever uses his phone honestly to just interact with you. that’s it. his call list just consists of you, you, you, hange, you, you.

- hange calls to annoy him obviously.

- speaking of which, hange absolutely adores you. every single time they call levi, they’re going to ask to say hi to you at some point.

- hange always asked for your help in experiments.

- levi doesn’t like being controlling, but he hates when you help hange. he’s always anxious something is going to go wrong, but he’ll never tell you that.

- he has complained to hange about it though.

- “moblit is your assistant, why can’t he help you?”

- he made hange promise they would never put you in real danger. he’s scary when he’s serious, obviously hange said yes.

- better kiss him goodbye before you leave, or else he’s going to be a nervous wreck until you get home.

—

#aot snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot headcanons #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi headcanons #levi relationship hcs #levi x reader hcs #aot fluff #aot hange

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codegeassfacts · 2 years ago

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Code Geass Lelouch of The Rebellion R2 Novels by Mamoru Iwasa // Non Canon

There are 4 novels for Code Geass R2, always written by Mamoru Iwasa, and a last one, the Knight of Rounds novels, which focuses mostly on Suzaku, Gino and Anya, as well as a part focused on Marianne. You can find additional info + Season 1 novels translations right here. Aside from the first one, Turn 1, R2 novels weren't translated in english like the season 1 novels and while the novels in japanese can be bought, and are actually available in chinese online, no one actually had the courage to translate those fully; **Still you can find some part of the novels which were translated amongst various places of the internet right below**

I'll be honest, I don't have it either, novels aren't very interesting to me since they are merely an interpretation from an author who isn't part of the writing team, so no canon information can be found, and i'm not a fan of this type of merchandising as i'm more of a fan of the CanonVerse than i am of the various AU/Fanon verse.

Season 1 novels were already translated and not much enjoyable to read for me, so i didn't read the R2 novels, that means unless someone is motivated enough, or if someday i am motivated enough, I'll only post some novel bits that can be found over the internet, or some summaries found in Animesuki when the novels aired ;

If you are fluent in chinese and want to fully read them, you can find the novels right here

R2 - Turn 1

No information for Turn 1

R2 - Turn 2

No information for Turn 2

R2 - Turn 3

For Turn 3, you can find some tibdits that were translated, mostly about C.C., because you could get some interpretation by Iwasa about what could possibly go on within some character's head.

Original translation can be found there, I pasted it here because it's put in the middle of various texts about C.C., both mixing canon stuff and not canon one, so it's a bit messy to link it directly;

It's supposed to be an insight of Lelouch's thought after he comes back from C.C.'s inner world/past in Turn 15.

I’m ‘too kind’? What stupid words!

Who’s the one being ‘too kind’ here?

C.C., when you first made contract with me, you didn’t reveal anything. I was afraid that I was nothing more than a tool to end your eternal life. But now I know your weakness that differs you from the nun, the Code bearer from your past; you are too kind. No matter where you go, even when your body is immortal, your heart is still that of human. Whenever you make a contract, at first you have no feelings for your contractor. However after spending some time together with them, you change. As your heart longs for love the most, the girl longing for love would appear. You become confused, and finally come to conclusion: as long as the contractor grows to hate you***, they would leave you on their own. This way, you wouldn’t have to assign the same pain to them as the nun did to you. How stupid. You are really an idiot. Then why make contract? Wouldn’t it be meaningless? How could you have feelings for the person you intended to use?

Here’s one thing I can tell you clearly.

“Don’t underestimate me, C.C.! Do you think I didn’t know your weakness? Do you think I fell for your cheap ploys? For being manipulated by you, do you think I would hate you?”

(*) In the novel, it’s explained that one of the reasons C.C. sent Lelouch into her memory (and not just him, but many of her past contractors) is to make them hate her by showing them that she would ultimately betray them just like the nun did her. That is, if they haven’t hated her yet for ruining their life by giving them Geass.**

**This is one of the various instance where novels contradicts canon, as it was stated C.C. sent Lelouch within her past to actually protect him from the emperor, it is atually even stated by C.C.'s dark double herself who understood Lelouch was someone important to C.C. for her to send him over there My Own Thoughts : C.C.'s past didn't show her betraying her past contractors, it mostly showed how she came to acquire her geass and Code, the suffering she had to endure and the nun's betrayal, so it really doesn't make sense, Those image are unlikely to spread hatred, and Lelouch had already witnessed how C.C. was dealing with her past contractors with Mao, he didn't came to hate her anyway. R2 - Turn 4

Once again Mononoke no ko translated some stuff about C.C. in the same post i linked above so you can check it again right there

It's a Monologue that Iwasa pictured right after C.C. and Lelouch's scene in Turn 23, after she comforted him about Zero Requiem being the right path to take.

‘I do not want to lose this man.’ Thought C.C. without any hesitancy. There’s a way for her not to lose him. However, he wouldn’t want to use this method, and even she… did not want to. Then what should she do? C.C. hadn’t come to understand the way of the world, even when she had lived for who knows how many years she still didn’t understand, had no way of knowing what is right and what is wrong, but she was sure of one thing. That he, the man named Lelouch Lamperouge, would not stop running toward death. He chose this path on his own will. He’s like a horse that couldn’t be stopped. She wanted to blame him, but couldn’t… She wanted to cry, but couldn’t. So… "Lelouch.” He said “Hm,” in response. “Do you remember, that time in Narita?” C.C. asked a bit out of the blue, that Lelouch felt a little confused. “Why suddenly…” She leaned on his back, then continued, “Why snow is white?” There’s an instant blank, before Lelouch immediately answered, “Because it forgot its original color.” “Then do you remember, Lelouch? Your original color.” “Stupid question,” he replied, finally back to his conceited tone. “I am me, I would never forget.” “Is that so…” “What about you, C.C.? Do you remember your original color?” “Who knows, but -” “But?” “At least right now, my color is your color, Lelouch.” Silence came. Then Lelouch laughed softly. “You selfish.” “Of course,” she wanted to cry a little - but instead, her face revealed a smile from the bottom of her heart, “it’s because I’m C.C.”

Another scene that was summarized is the Lelouch/C.C. hangar scene from Turn 24, you can see it in it's own post, once again by Mononoke no Ko, so no need to copy paste this time it's right here

My own Thoughts : Basically it doesn't say anything new, Iwasa tries to expand on the position of Lelouch and C.C. (But since we saw the whole scene between them without any cut till they even stumbled from the Guren crash, it's yet another contradiction with canon)

And the final scene which was translated is the ending of Turn 4, which is basically giving food to Lelouch is alive theorists, when, once again, this novelization contradicts canon in every way, shape or form, as you can see in this post here

The wagon was filled with hay. There was a girl sitting on it with waist long hair and incredible appearance, that's the first impression she gives to others. She was focused on folding a japanese origami, something completely irrelevant to the surroundings. Finally, the origami gradually took shape, it was a crane. The girl gazed satisfactorily at the crane for some moments before putting it on the hay. Then after stretching her body, she laid down on the hay vigorously, the wagon shook slightly, the horseman glanced backward without turning around. The girl didn't care, she inhaled the smell of the herbs bathed in sunlight, stared up at the sky and smiled sweetly. Then-

"The power of kings, Geass, will make you lonely." The blissful and ringing voice of C.C. echoed in the sky. "Heh, not at all, right, Lelouch?"

The horseman holding the reins still, glanced back. Before turning around, a faint smile suddenly appeared at the corners of his mouth. The wagon continued moving forward slowly with the pull of two bad horses.

The weather was mild and sunny. The sky was cloudless.

Translation courtesy of Ok_Wallaby9160 on Reddit.

That's about it for the Main story R2 novels; As a side piece, just like in S1 with the Red tracks Novels we have the Knight of Rounds novels

Knight of Rounds Novel

Knights of Rounds (a novel following Suzaku alongside Gino and Anya, set mostly during the time between R1 and R2, although there is a special chapter that goes into the past and follows Marianne as a Knight of Rounds before she became an Empress) Once again, not much was translated, and I can't blame people on that, still you can find a translation of the first chapter about Gino by the amazingly motivated Ellen right there

For the Marianne chapter, I read it a long time ago and I only remember she was quite blood thirsty and mostly seemed to care for her children as long as they didn't get in her way (so very fitting with the Canon Marianne)

That's it for the R2 novels, There will probably a third post about miscelleanous novels, like the Talkin Rebellion that can be found in the Guidebook, But I won't mix those in there, they'll have their own post. Hope you enjoyed !

#code geass #codegeass #lelouch vi britannia #lelouch lamperouge #C.C.#c.c. x lelouch #luluC #suzaku kururugi #gino weinberg #novels #code geass novels #official material #promotional material #lelouch of the rebellion #not canon

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keroseneinhalers · 4 years ago

Note

my favorite part of warrior cats is the grotesque story of squirrelflight, ashfur, and the extended cast of cats that sound like they came out of an ajj song

this gal named squirrelflight flirts with a guy named ashfur a few times. typical 80s romance song. its quick, its fleeting. squirrelflight gets together with brambleclaw. its all real lovely. brambleclaw gets promoted to leader after squirrelflights dad goes into retirement and makes his deputy the chief. brambleclaw is now bramblestar

(before the promotion and after the marriage, brambleclaw leads the entire 4 clans to a new territory. not relevant. he also stabs his brother in the neck with a tent stake)

and then squirrelflights sister leafpool, who is a medicine cat and sworn into celibacy, has sex with a guy from windclan named crowfeather. this is something all the cats are sworn not to do. double illegal.

crowfeather is a bit of a whore because he was previously in love with another girl who went on a magical journey with him when he was a child. (brambleclaw was there for that too. brambleclaw is eternal and everywhere) the girl crowfeather was in love with got impaled by a falling stalagmite while protecting a tribe of savage feral cats with names very similar to english translations of a few native american names i know. interesting. racist? there was a mountain lion involved

yeah so they have sex and leafpool gets pregnant. but since she did two crimes in one she gives the kids to squirrelflight and pretends they belong to her and brambelstar. theres an uncomfortable birthing scene because the kids decided to emerge from her cat uterus in the middle of a snowstorm. this is very telling of their characters after birth

theres three kids. jayfeather lionblaze and hollyleaf. jayfeather is very angry. lionblaze is angry but in a brave way. hollyleaf loves rules. they are a legendary trio

theres a thing about superpowers, and a prophecy or something. jay is sickly and blind and can see peoples thoughts. lionblaze never loses any fights, ever, and he maims ashfur a little while theyre trianing. hollyleaf doesnt have any powers, but she is absolutely obsessed with the warrior code and gets caught up with a guy named sol who says the world is gonna end. none of this is relevant except the "bootlicker hollyleaf" thing

ashfur is stewing. ashfur has been stewing for years now. long enough that they literally brought all 4 clans across the continent to a new territory kind of stewing. hes lonely. he misses the girl he was madly in love with, and shes married to the coolest guy in town. hes in agony. (over in windclan, crowfeather has a new girlfriend. manwhoring as long as he lives)

theres a big fire. thunderclans entire territory sets on fire. everyone is escaping, except for squirrelflight and her three kids. jayfeather, lionblaze, and hollyleaf, who is contemplating becoming an antivaxxer or something

imagine this: a clearing on the edge of a pit. the pit is where the cats live. everything is on fire around this clearing. there is one log running across the clearing, and squirreflight and her fake kids are going along it to escape. theyre the last out

ashfur appears he stands at the other end of the log. hes pissed. hes crying. he hates squirrelflight. he hates her so much. his rage is all consuming, like the fire that burns around them. he says he wants her in as much pain as possible, and he knows how: taking the only thing she loves in this world. her 3 kids

we all know something ashfur doesnt. the kids arent hers. squirrelflight, though non an omnipresence, is gifted with this knowledge herself.. she sees ashfurs twisted evil mind and tells him, flat out that they arent hers. she doesnt love them. he can kill them, they mean nothing to her. they are, after all, just her sister leafpool's. why would she care for them?

ashfur is stunned. he gives up. he leaves. squirrelflight and her three kids leave. its a bit awkward. imagine the thanksgiving dinner table after a particularly bad argument. thats all this is really

anyways. hollyleaf is broken from this. shes the daughter of a medicine cat and a manwhore from a clan that only eats rabbits. she cant take it. much like ashfur, she snaps

there are these big clan meetings, once every month. everyone goes, except the old people and the dying people and the kids who just want juiceboxes and lunchables. thunderclan is heading out to the Meeting Island. they find a body in the river. surprise! its ashfur

they go on to the gathering despite finding the body of one of their finest, most mentally haunted warriors polluting the stream with the blood seeping out of his slit throat. the three kids are there. squirrelflight is there. leafpool is there. bramblestar is there

this story has very weird heathers energy to me. its there, but it isnt coherant. like a bad remix of 100 gecs, sort of. this part is no exception

hollyleaf runs up to the big tree the clan leaders stand on and monologue. shes not allowed to do this. perhaps the sense that she lost her identity with her illigitimate birth turned into something real, that the warrior code didnt matter anymore. perhaps she was just tired of being kind; she wanted to go apeshit

she confesses. to two things. number one - the muderder of ashfur. how tragic. number two - leafpool. leafpools affar with crowfeather. squirrelflights lies to her for her entire life. theres chaos. thunderclan is like stan twitter after a minecraft youtuber said something racist 8 years ago. the 3 other clans are trying desperately to get in on this drama. the hot tea of the hour if you will

hollyleaf says her share. she runs away. lionblaze and jayfeather chase after her all the way back to the thunderclan territory. she yells at them. she runs into a tunnel and gets crushed by rocks. thats the end. shes dead.

jk jk that was a lie shes alive and shes living in a huge cave system with a ghost cat. remember the native american coded mountain tribe? yeah, they had ancestors. the ancestors lived at the territory the 4 clans moved to after squirelflight flirted with ashfur and before she got together with bramblestar. they used to drown little kids in the tunnels. jayfeather is the entire reason why the ancestors moved to the mountains and became the racist mountain tribe. i wont explain the timeline of this, and i dont think i could if i tried

up above hollyleafs slowburn romance with a transparent cat, theres a new girl with superpowers. prophecy fulfilled yadda yadda. her sister is annoyed that she isnt #quirky and so she joins a fighting cult run by the cats in hell. i cannot stress this enough its literally every cat from the 50 some books before this who went to hell. they have an army of children. theyre training them. the sister kills one of her classmates and becomes equals with the hell cats. my second favorite plotline in the series

the hell cats come to the land of the living. the sister betrays them. theres a big battle, and its supposed to be the end of the series but you know theyre gonna continue it for at least 20 more books. (they did). hollyleaf appears, and i dont think its ever explained how or why. but shes back, and she joins the battle. everyones too busy with the literal hell cats to care much about some kid with a body count of 1 appearing randomly

hollyleaf fights a bit. she gets mauled to death. thats the end. its just over. she dies and she doesnt come back. rip to a queen

i think my biggest question besides why would someone create this ad continue to do so for fifty plus books, is how the fuck brambleclaw stabbed his brother with a tent stake when he literally doesn’t even have hands. what.

#hollyleaf was a queen gone too soon #thank you for telling the plot of all fifty books i can finally know #warrior cats spoilers #maybe?#would anyone who follows me actually have that tagged?#long post

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nightowlwriting · 3 years ago

Text

summary: you've always known there's a soulmate on the other end of your injuries. when you're working the victory pit during the harvest close festival, though, it's the furthest thing from your mind. ironically, it's the closest mollymauk has ever been to you.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: canon level violence, mentions of molly activating his swords, canon level allusions to war and corruption

title credit: the steve miller band

note: takes place during episodes 17/18, requested from the soulmate abc list: damage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all).

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Throughout your childhood, you’ve been called blessed. It started with bruises and scuffs. Little things that are perfectly normal for a child to receive and not remember. The problem with your bruises and scuffs was that they were not your own. When you grew into your celestially gifted powers, it started to make more sense.

Your family had stories of soulmates bestowed upon their clerics, but it wasn’t something that had happened in many generations. Nobody was really concerned until the wounds you received from your soulmate began getting worse - deeper, taking longer to heal, more life-threatening. It worried you, and your family, but it pressed you to become a better cleric. To find your source of power and lean into it. You heal yourself each night before bed, hoping that you’re giving some sort of comfort to the person you’re connected to. Even if you have no energy spells, you pull a pearl you were gifted when you left your hometown and press your lips to it and let it fill you with the love and warmth of life and still heal yourself. It’s your nightly ritual and, since you’ve started doing it, you haven’t missed it once.

Except once, but really that doesn’t matter because of how you miss it. It’s the Harvest’s End festival and the Victory Pit, and you’ve been conscripted to work it. You hate working for the Crown, but it pays well and allows you to help people. Your clerical skills and magic get used every day and you help the people that really need help. Still, the inevitable war looming over the Empire worries you. You’re skilled for your age, more so than the other clerics who perhaps have years over you, and War Clerics don’t have the longest life expectancy. After the last time that your soulmate died, and the grief and pain it inflicted upon you, you don’t want to do that to them. You try not to think about the several times you’ve felt their death and resurrections, though, because it worries you.

Most of all, it tells you very important information about them. They’re some sort of adventurer, best case scenario. The worst case, though, is that they’re a criminal. Regardless, you’ve become fond of them. The cuts don’t really hurt as much anymore, but they still pucker and scar when you heal them at night. There have been a few times when you’ve gotten hurt and you know that they’ve received those wounds, so perhaps they know about you as well. You hope they do because it would be awfully lonely to be the only one out of a pair to be aware that there is, in fact, a pair.

Still, your soulmate is the furthest thing from your mind as you funnel people into the Victory Pit. Clerics double as security, mostly because the Guard want to watch the fights more than they want to keep people safe, and you grit your teeth trying to keep your prepared spells at the back of your mind. You have several healing spells in your mind, but a few offensive ones as well. In Victory Pits of the past, you’ve had to use them. Now, you’re just sore and aggravated with the hickey that appeared on your chest last night - that you did not receive yourself. It doesn’t bother you that whoever you’re linked to is getting lucky, but it would be nice if you didn’t have to look at the proof for the next week or so.

Someone stamps on your toe and you bite back your curse, skittering backward and colliding with someone who is cursing. “I’m sorry,” You apologize on instinct, turning and grabbing the person by the arms. You’re momentarily struck by how beautiful they are, but you’re at work. “Are you okay? I’m a cleric working in the Pit today.” They glance down at you, baubles and trinkets swinging from their gaudy horns, and you realize with a start that they're purple. It’s not that tieflings are rare in Zadash, but purple ones are. The group they’re with also has a blue tiefling, a small green halfling, and a half-orc. Truly a strange band of people.

“No, no,” The person you’d run into says, voice smoother than you’d anticipated, “I’m alright. Are you okay, darling?” They smile down at you, completely red eyes smiling with merriment as they settle their hands on your biceps in a mirror of how you’re holding them.

“Please, I ran into you,” You shake your head, “Besides, I’m working. It’s my job to make sure that you’re okay.” You give them your name, telling them to seek you out if they shall become injured.

“Oh,” They sweep you grandly underneath their arm, squishing you into the side and stepping toward their group for a few steps, “I will get painfully injured today, but I will seek you out specifically, darling. My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, and I am fighting with the Mighty Nein. You may call me Molly, all my friends do. I am a man of many friends, and you are one of them now. Keep your eyes on me today.” He winks and then sweeps himself away with a flourish, leaving you standing and a little flustered.

After that, the Victory Pit starts faster than you anticipate. You're stationed in the Pit itself, one of the more powerful offensive clerics on the roster today when you start to put the pieces together. You're not sure why you didn't notice at first, but Mollymauk - Molly - has a lot of scars. A lot of familiar scars. You trace a particularly deep scar on your collarbone as you watch the first Pit fight and wonder. What are the odds? Could Mollymauk really be…? A horrible thought hits you, and you can feel yourself pale. He's fighting in the Victory Pit today. He's going to get hurt, which will either confirm or deny whether or not he's your soulmate but if he is… Shit, you're in for a rough day. You know that The Mighty Nein is slated for the first fight against an Otyugh. They're nasty creatures, although not really native to Zadash you've still had to heal up some rather awful sucker wounds in your time.

You're glad to see that Mollymauk holds his own in the fight, and stays far away from the Otyugh. It's hard to keep your eyes off of him with the idea that he might be your soulmate and you get the sense that he's a melee fighter more so than a magical fighter in the beginning, but then he activates his swords, and the pain blossoms in your ribs as he drags his blades along his.

There's no question now. Mollymauk Tealeaf is your soulmate. Watching the way he fights and interacts with the Nein during their fight with the Otyugh everything about the injuries you've received from your connection with him makes so much more sense. You actually find yourself… Weirdly proud of your scars, then. You've heard about the Nein, how they're swords for hire and defeated the Fey Spider in the tunnels, but still. Mollymauk seems like good people. Maybe it's naïve to hope on your part because he's your soulmate, but you'll take it until you're proven different. You've been doing things like that for most of your life, and you'll be damned if you stop now. You know you can hold your own, too, so that helps. The next fighters pass in a haze to you, as you stand ready to save someone from death the Banderhobb fight passes with no need for clerics, and the fights with the Giant Crocodile and Ice Troll are much the same.

When the Mighty Nein is back up, your senses fire to life. The next monsters are Winter Wolves, nasty creatures with powerful ranged attacks. You steady yourself against the half-wall you're stationed behind, readying yourself for whatever pain Mollymauk is about to feel. The beginning of the fight is tense, and your fellow clerics watch you curiously as your hands grip tight and relax intermittently on the wall in front of you. When one wolf whirls and releases a nasty, icy breath you heave a sigh of relief that Mollymauk wasn't hit but then the other does the same thing. You feel it more than see Mollymauk get hit, sharp shards of pain washing over your skin so intensely that your eyes roll back in your head and the only thing that keeps you from collapsing is the fervent grip on the wall. Someone lays their hands on you and you feel a swell of magic before you shake them off. "I'm fine," You grit out, "Save your spells for the competitors." Even though you could use the healing, there's a reason clerics wait in the wings at the Pit. It's very possible that someone could be on death's door before the end of the day and if they die because you wasted a spell you'd never forgive yourself.

By the time you fight the darkness from the edges of your vision, Mollymauk is delivering the killing blow to the final Winter Wolf. You're not sure how he's still standing, let alone aware of his body enough to swing his swords like they weigh nothing. Your knees practically knock together as you gather your wits, wiping a hand down your sweaty face. The trials only get harder, and one hit almost took you down. You know you should heal yourself but you're not really sure if your nightly heals affect Mollymauk and, while you have no love for the Empire, it wouldn't be fair if your heals do help him. (And, again, there's the preemptive guilt of maybe not having enough energy for a lifesaving spell. You're just too selfish to use your pearl, too, so you have to make do and conserve your energy.)

The next group comes out and whispers flitter down the row of clerics to you: Owlbears are next. They're awful creatures, nasty when there's only one but two are damn near unmanageable. You happen to know these two aren't even mated, but that hardly matters. It's going to be a bloodbath at best, and at worst there'll be a death. Reaching over the wall, you unhook the latch that keeps it connected just in case you need to rush into the field. The beast-keepers are technically supposed to be the first on the scene, but you're also technically more powerful than they are. You rarely listen to the rules at the Victory Pit, mostly because you're a Crown Cleric and not from the Temple of the Platinum Dragon.

The fight is intense and the clerics next to you barely hold you back when several members of the team go down. They have clerics on their team, yes, but it's hard to tamp down your instincts when you were practically raised by your family for clericdom. It's only when you hear the whispering chatter that the beast-keepers are gathering the magical manacles that you jump into action, flinging open your door and sprinting into the field. The gasp from the crowd barely registers in your mind as you dodge an attack, skidding underneath and stopping next to what looks more like a bloody lump of cloth than a humanoid. The beast whirls on you, but you're faster. You've cast spiritual weapon before it can strike, the air in front of you and the injured party member shimmers and then, the first thing you thought of, a replica of one of Molly's scimitars but three times the size, appears and blocks the strike.

The Owlbear reels back again, going for another, but you're right there to block it. The beast-keepers are going to get an earful from you when you're done with the Pit, but for now, you're relieved that they've managed to subdue the beast and you can focus on the fallen. They're not in great shape, and with a precursory feel of their pulse, they're incredibly close to death.

You put your hands on either side of their neck, close your eyes, and pray. It's not necessarily a religious relationship with the deity that gives you the powers you have to heal, but it's still technically a prayer. The contestant heaves a deep breath, and you can feel the life rush into them from the fold between this plane and the next. The other clerics have gotten everyone else, so you focus on your patient. They probably need two or three more spells before they’re fully stabilized, which is going to burn through either your higher energy spells or all of your lower levels. You grit your teeth as you roll your patient onto the blade of your spiritual weapon, using it as a makeshift gurney. They’re already calling for the next team as if the clerics they’ve hired aren’t already spread thin trying to keep this team from dying. The Mighty Nein are at the doors, holding them open for the clerics, and you barely catch Molly’s eyes as you bring your patient off of the Pit floor and into the waiting room. The scimitar disappears as you lay them on a cot, quickly finding the worst wounds and sealing them with magic, burning through a lot of the spells you prepared and the arcane energy that it takes to cast.

The next beasts are angry and wily - displacer beasts - so you don’t really have time to think about how Molly is lingering near you, trying to find a time to talk to you while you’re trying to keep this person from dying. You stabilize them eventually, but the scarring will be intense. There’s nothing that you can do about that with what you’ve got now. Outside you can hear the next team win against the beasts and stress begins to bundle in your shoulders at the thought of how quickly the Pit is moving. Molly is hovering over your shoulder as you step back and begin clearing the blood off of your hands, despite his group being called out once more.

“That was my sword,” He rumbles, keeping his voice down and stepping even closer to you when you turn around. You track his tail thwipping through the air behind him, either very agitated or incredibly curious. Either could be incredibly accurate, and you don’t really have enough time to parse any information from the rest of his body language.

“Yes, it was,” You want to grumble, but it comes out softer than you intended, “Sorry, but you’re being called and I have to get back to my station so that you don’t die.” Molly tries to catch your arm when you slip around him, but with a promise and a smile you turn back to face him. “Don’t fucking die out there, and then we can talk, okay?” You wish that you could tell him, warn him really, that they’re about to face a Hill Giant. An incredible creature, really, but pushed to a near unreachable limit by the beast-keepers and their prodding, angry spears and arrows. It makes you sick to your stomach, but this is your job. The Empire pays your bills and keeps you fed - they would not tolerate any dissent from you on the matter of the Victory Pit and the treatment of the creatures captured specifically for death, no matter how strong of a case you can make. Instead of telling Molly what he’s up against, you casually brush the back of your fingers against his hand and let your magic make its way into his system. He should be okay, you think, the blessings of a cleric are strong.

Making your way back to your station, you fidget with your uniform. One of your friends - using the term loosely because you’re more like coworkers - catches your sleeve as you pass him. He’s grinning, mischief in his eyes. “You’ve never given a contestant your blessings before, what’s so special about him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” You pull away from Brock, “I just told him that if he wins, we can have a conversation. That’s all.” You shoot him a pointed look and then, after glancing around to make sure nobody else is looking, a wink. Brock grins and relaxes into his station, shaking his head. You’re known to push the limits, but outright break the rules? It’s almost unheard of for you. Everyone knows you’re blessed with a soulmate and Zadash is a bustling metropolis, frequented by the sort of people who get the injuries you sometimes show up to work with. They know you’ll need to stick around to find them, so you’ve only pushed the limits the Empire gives you, not outright shoot past them. By the time you’ve found your station again, the Hill Giant is almost out onto the Pit floor, and Brock has probably figured out why you’re so soft on one particular contestant.

The giant knocks out one of the pillars, roaring so deeply it vibrates in your chest. He’s pissed, rightfully so. The spines sticking out of his body make you sick to your stomach, and you have to look away. Your eyes find the halfling that was with Molly earlier, but as she sprints off toward the human woman, you realize that she’s a goblin. An interesting myriad of people traveling together, but you’ve seen strangers come through your town. She fires off two of her bolts, missing entirely, and you watch one arc through the air and strike off of the helmet of a Guard, who yelps.

You snicker as she takes off again, and the human man fires off his magic. It’s strange to see magic come from another person, especially magic that is clearly learned and not given. It almost makes you wish that your magic was learned instead of bestowed upon you but that would mean losing Molly, who you’re already rather fond of. You’re watching the man try to keep his cool and almost miss the other tiefling casting - a giant fucking lollipop appearing out of the air, smacking the giant, and then flames rocketing out of her hands to hit him, as well. You grin when you realize she’s a cleric, too. You wonder if she has a soulmate, but it would be improper to ask.

When the giant reels back and hurls a large chunk of wall, you suck in a breath. Everything is happening so fast, and Molly… Not only will it hurt to take the hits, but he’ll get hurt. It’s not just about you, but if he goes down so will you, and then you can’t help anyone. You’re almost relieved when the giant turns toward the half-orc, but then Molly is sprinting up toward the giant’s legs, his swords out. He’s a melee fighter, getting right into the thick of it and making your skin crawl. Molly’s swords carve through the giant like butter, making you cringe because the giant is pissed, and Molly won’t have time to get away from whatever is about to happen to him.

When the giant whips around, his eyes are fully black and bleeding down his face. You’re almost certain that’s Molly’s doing, but you don’t really have time to figure it out. The giants club swings up, and then down, and before Molly hits the ground your world has gone hazy with pain and darkness.

The pain and darkness keep their hold on you for what feels like forever. You know that eventually you’ll wake up, but floating in the darkness of unconsciousness you think of Molly. Did someone heal him? Is he okay? You’ve felt the other times he’s died, the way it rips you apart inside, the way you sleep for what feels like days before you wake up. Is this the same way? Has Molly died, even for a second, and you’re left to suffer the consequences? The stories your family told you all ended with soulmates together, no longer bearing the injuries of the other, because of the love that they share and the way they give and take equally. Nobody told you stories of soulmates where one dies over and over again - or at least comes close to doing so rather regularly. You’re still floating in the abyss when you hear his voice. Molly’s voice startles you because normally it’s the deity who blessed you with magic that comes to you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay.

But this time it’s Molly. He’s saying your name, asking you to wake up so that he can see your eyes again. Faintly, as you drift closer and closer to the surface, you can feel the light tracings of fingertips against the crest of your cheekbone and the faint wisp of breath against your hair. He keeps speaking, telling you things that you’re not sure you’ll remember when you finally float to the surface.

That happens faster than normal. When your eyes finally feel light enough to open, Molly is there. He looks a little worse for wear, but you can tell he has at least one healing spell in him. When he realizes you’re awake, a large grin splits his face. “There you are, darling,” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair to be even closer to you, “Scared me for a moment there.”

“Now that I’ve found you I highly doubt that you can get rid of me, Mollymauk.” Your voice is hoarse as you push yourself up, one of Molly’s hands curling around your shoulder to help you sit up on the cot. When you’re upright he moves from the chair he had set up next to your bed to sit next to you, his entire side pressed against yours. “You are a man who is constantly in danger.”

“That I am,” He leans against you, his horn pressing into the side of your head but you don’t mind. He’s warm and nice. The aches in your body numb a little bit just by being near him, but Molly seems like he has a bit of an ego so you don’t mention that. “Do you know why we feel each other this way?”

“Have you heard of soulmates, Molly?” You drop your voice to a whisper and turn your face to him, your lips pressed against his lavender forehead, “My family has legends of them, given to clerics to help them become the best healers they can be. Pushed to their limits by the other’s injuries, but also filled with an overwhelming need to be good enough. To have enough power. To protect, and love, and heal.” You kiss his forehead, hoping it’s not too bold, and let one of your last healing spells flow through his body. The last one you cast on yourself.

“It’s rotten work to love me, darling.” Molly finally says, one hand searching yours out, “But I do feel much better having met you. I feel connected, loved.”

“It’s not rotten work to love you, Molly. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I do not plan on stopping now.” You kiss his forehead again and his head turns, his own lips pressing against the side of your neck as he sighs, “Perhaps your work is not done in Zadash, but it should be soon.” You drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper so that only Molly can hear you, “War is coming, Mollymauk. You, The Mighty Nein… You should run before you’re conscripted to fight.”

“And you?” He asks, red eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer, “What about you?”

“I… I’ll come with you, if you’ll have me.” You watch the shock flicker across his face for a brief moment, but then it settles into something that you can’t find a name for. “But if not, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be conscripted to be a War Cleric, not at first. They’ll take the clerics from the temples before they take me.”

Molly caresses the side of your face with his other hand, a small and hesitant smile playing on his face. “Darling, of course, I’ll have you. The Nein will, too. We’re meant to be together, after all.”

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #mollymauk imagine #mollymauk tealeaf imagine #mollymauk / reader #mollymauk x reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

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cowboyjen68 · 4 years ago

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Recently I’ve been debating getting top surgery. I know that some butches get top surgery and seem happy with the results but I’ve also met some who grew out of their discomfort with time. So I guess I’m debating if I should wait to see if maybe the discomfort around my chest will ease with age or if I should look into getting top surgery. The ones I’ve talked to also had this discomfort about their breast growing during puberty but they said after some time it decreased but for mines it seems like a problem that hasn’t gone away.

I am so sorry for the delay, seems work and side gigs are taking up a lot of my time lately.

I can only speak from my experience with my body and from other lesbians I talk to... and I talk to a lot. I have many friends across generations. Many of my younger friends are butch but not all. My older friends are a myriad of types of lesbians and as diverse as the greater population. This weekend now that we are all vaccinated we had a campfire with 12 lesbian, 5 butches present. We have definitely had discussions about our breasts, discomfort, and the mourning over loosing breasts to cancer (or the danger of cancer). Most of my buddies, from 19 to 68 share similar stories about learning to be at least “okay” with their bodies in a world where our physical attributes are often used to define our personality, and our worth.

One thing we ALL share, as women, not just lesbians, is that we were at best dissatisfied that we have breasts starting as soon as they begin to form. I was 7 when mom told me I had to wear a shirt outside. Wow was I pissed. AND as a 7 years old I knew it had nothing to do with me but everyone seemed just fine with the fact that men were the issue but since we can’t change them we must change our own behavior.

I remember thinking “how is me not wearing a shirt a problem”. Breasts had been neutral for me at that point. Just another part of my body. Once I realized “they” made me different, more vulnerable, more controlled, less “human” than those around me without breasts I turned my hate on my body instead of the people who really were to blame. Just like I was taught, I can’t control the men but I perhaps I could control my body.

I have raised at least 10 teenage daughters (2 are lesbians now) my youngest adopted is 15 and when her other mom told her to put on a shirt in the summer of her 8th birthday, even in our rural yard she looked at me dead in the eye and said “why haven’t you fixed this yet?” (meaning women’s bodies being subject to the eyes and opinions of men). I wonder.. why haven’t we? She is the youngest, but all the others grew from hating their breasts to at least neutral, some really love their bodies and that is lovely.

Lesbians are unique in our dealings of men’s opinions because we never need or want the approval of men in relation to our bodies. The opposite in fact.. we would prefer they see us void of anything they find sexual. Many women, straight, bi, lesbian eventually either learn to give no shits about the opinions of men or they learn to work around that feeling.

Ok.. all that being said, my story. My breasts are B cups, perhaps C’s when I was a bit heavier weight wise. I wore regular bras WITH padding and always as tight as a could to make them less noticeable. When I came out i switched to sports bras because i was embracing being butch and no longer wanted to play the game of wearing “pretty bra” . I never wore tight shirts, always baggy. I wore the tightest bra I could wear to keep my breasts smaller, less visible. FOR YEARS.

Going to a women’s festival opened my eyes to the many ways bodies can be. The many ways BUTCH bodies can exist. Women went topless and NO one sexualized them. (except when appropriate-- like while flirting etc when it was welcomed). Thousands of people, many topless and no one, not one person was oogled, cat called, teased, or otherwise treated as different than someone wearing a shirt. What did they all share? Why was it different than in other places? Women. All women and mostly lesbians. However that did not automatically translate to “I am going back to the real world and giving no fucks about the reality of existing with breasts in our world”. It took time.

I no longer wear a bra just an undershirt. BUT I am in control of where I go, who I interact with most of the time. If I was still at my retail job, I’d probably still wear a bra. I no longer dislike my breasts. I love them. They bring me pleasure, they bring my girlfriend pleasure. They are a lovely part of me BUT that does not mean I am not very aware in public of my nipples being visible or of people noticing I am braless. And I imagine it is harder for women with larger breasts.

Had binders been a “thing”, had I had access to a double mastectomy, or the idea of it i cannot say that would have pursued either. The pattern suggests I would have. But again., neither were on my radar, not options presented to me or encouraged as a way to solve my discomfort.

I have three friends who have had elective double mastectomies. And many who had one to prevent or remove cancer. Several of them suffer consistent and painful nerve damage that is not treatable, is quite common, is unpredictable (they can’t know who will have it) and possibly life long. Of the three who were trying to alleviate the distress of dysphoria, all three regret the decision and none of them are over 30 yet. These women are all lesbians. Those who had the surgery because of cancer are thrilled to be happy and alive with less worry, although they do deal with nerve issues and mourn the loss of a part of their body.

I have a few trans men friends, although we are not close. A couple of them have had double mastectomies but their thoughts or feelings have not come up, we are just not close enough for such a personal discussion and none have had the surgery for more than 2 years. I have had lots of older lesbians friends (and a few younger) who did get breast reduction surgery and their health and mental health were both improved. Their backs are better, their clothes fit better and they feel more active, less self conscious with out the physical risks of a full mastectomy.

The easy answer and what I WANT to say, is be patient, find lots of older lesbians friends to show you your body is neutral, men are the problem. Give yourself time to understand that your breasts are as butch as the rest of you. They are a natural part of your body and how you are meant to be. Also, I know there is not an easy answer. Men will continue to exist. They will continue to sexualize lesbians (with or without breasts). I didn’t outgrow wishing my breasts could just disappear(in public settings) until my 40′s but it got easier and easier to sort of “live with it”. I am many times over grateful for my healthy breasts now.

Seek therapy.. and not someone who will just go along with what ever you say. My therapists works me hard. She makes me answer the hard questions. She has me vocalize things that I don’t even want to admit in my head let alone out loud. Find one like that. Find one who is willing to explore all the reasons your breasts cause you distress. Then, if you decide to proceed, you can do so knowing you were worth the hard work and you can feel more confident in making an informed decision. Don’t make any decisions based on the opinions of men. Your body. YOUR decision. Write that down on a post it and keep it somewhere you will see it.

If you would like to speak to some others who are struggling with how you feel or want to talk to lesbians who can tell you about their double mastectomies, DM me, perhaps I can connect you.

If anyone wants to add their experience in the notes please be kind. No judgement for anyone making such a difficult decision.

One last thing to this long post. From one butch to another. I care about you and I am saddened and angry at bull shit you have to wade through in this world. I get it. You are not alone.

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jaanusbooktalk · 3 years ago

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Mirage by Somaiya Daud - Review

10/10 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TWs: Colonialism, ethnic discrimination, violence, kidnapping

(TWs are ranked in order of severity)

I didn’t think I’d be giving a book 10/10 this early, but here we are. I am blown away. Every once in a while you pick up a book that is so absolutely stunning and riveting that it’s basically glued to your side. This is one of those books. The diversity, the characters, the culture, the romance, THE POETRY puts this debut novel by Somaiya Daud right up there with We Free the Stars by Hafsah Faizal (also amazing, please check it out!)

The Summary:

“In a star system dominated by the brutal Vathek empire, eighteen-year-old Amani is a dreamer. She dreams of what life was like before the occupation; she dreams of writing poetry like the old-world poems she adores; she dreams of receiving a sign from Dihya that one day, she, too, will have adventure, and travel beyond her isolated moon.

But when adventure comes for Amani, it is not what she expects: she is kidnapped by the regime and taken in secret to the royal palace, where she discovers that she is nearly identical to the cruel half-Vathek Princess Maram. The princess is so hated by her conquered people that she requires a body double, someone to appear in public as Maram, ready to die in her place.

As Amani is forced into her new role, she can’t help but enjoy the palace’s beauty—and her time with the princess’ fiancé, Idris. But the glitter of the royal court belies a world of violence and fear. If Amani ever wishes to see her family again, she must play the princess to perfection...because one wrong move could lead to her death.”

TL;DR A village girl is abducted from home by the conquerors of her planet (the Vathek) to become a body-double for the Vathek princess. She starts to fall in love with the princess’s fiancé, but her life depends on convincing everyone that she is who she’s pretending to be.

I found this book through a tik tok video from @fawfal who never fails to give the best recommendations. I heard the words “fantasy” and “Arab poetry” and I was hooked. This book is heavily inspired by Moroccan culture and history, while also futuristic with sci-fi elements.

For representation, from an outside perspective I think it does a lot. The author worked really hard to include good translations and to incorporate a variety of language into the book, because the Vathek (conquerors) and the Kushaila (native people of Andaalan) speak different languages. The book addresses a lot of real world problems like colonization and it’s legacy, and how it affects people on every level of the power structure.

There was this one part that made me cry near the beginning of the book, where Amani (main character) is describing her world post-Vathek invasion, the only world she’s ever known. She talks about wanting desperately to find a place, a home that has been destroyed and taken from her but not even being able to envision it, and that hit me where it hurts.

Side note: colonization is a heavy topic. it’s more than just taking over a place, it’s conquering a people, taking their culture to try and break their spirit. Mirage deals with this really well, and expresses the pain of those who have lost so much.

What I liked:

Firstly, Daud’s prose is amazingly detailed and rich, without going overboard. I could clearly envision every scene, and someone really needs to make a Mirage Pinterest board! What I loved the most however were the relationships between the characters. The relationship between Amani and her brother Hussnain made me miss my siblings deeply, and her close knit community pulled on my memories and heartstrings.

More than just good representation, there’s something beautiful about reading stories that speak to you. The scenery is beautiful and reminds me of the word “hiraeth”: A deep longing for one’s home.

From celebrations with dancing, food, and traditional music under a sky full of stars to wandering empty courtyards in palaces rich with history, Mirage’s world draws you in and doesn’t let go till the last page.

Also, the poetry was gorgeous. I fell in love with Arabic poetry a while back, and it never fails to take my breath away.

I’m a big believer in the idea that BIPOC joy is a revolution - because against all these forces, we are still happy in spite of them. In Mirage, one of the members of court (Furat) says:

“Even your happiness is rebellion.”

Amani replies with something along the lines of:

“But it will not win the war.”

This was really important to me because it helped me realize that yes, joy is a revolution, but sometimes you need more than that. Amani is the type of heroine who steps up to that, despite the risks. She is a far stronger person than I could ever be, considering what she goes through. It had me rooting for her throughout the book, even when she had to make tough decisions.

Finally, two things brought this book to a ten:

The romance

The “villain”

Now normally, I like romance but it’s sort of a side dish to the book. It can enhance it, or take away from it. The reason I loved how the romance was done in Mirage is because despite the power imbalance, they treat each other as equals. Idris (princess’s fiancé) respects Amani and legitimately cares about her - he doesn’t try to control her or be possessive, and they support each other in very quiet but emotional ways (which I won’t state explicitly because… spoilers). It’s rare in YA fantasy to see a female main character who isn’t dependent on her partner, and the “right person wrong time” trope kills me every time. I loved all of their interactions 💗

The villain - Maram, the Vathek princess - looks exactly like Amani. This is why she is forced to become her body double. But the thing is, Mirage doesn’t let you forget for a second that Maram is also young, and human, and at the mercy of her father and all the people she needs to rule. She is half Vathek half Andalaan and doesn’t fit with either side because of this. Being mixed, this spoke a lot to my own experiences of trying to find a home in both parts of my culture. You end up feeling a lot of sympathy for her, and I can’t wait to see how her character arc continues in the sequel.

I sincerely recommend Mirage to any fans of:

A Song of Wraiths & Ruin by Roseanne A. Brown

We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer (problematic author ‼️)

Nocturna by Maya Motayne

The sequel to Mirage is called Court of Lions, but personally I think it can be read as a standalone. I will be running to buy that sequel though 😂

This book checks all my boxes:

- culture ✅

- plot ✅

- romance ✅

- villains but more than just villains ✅

- beautiful writing ✅

- fantasy ✅

- world building ✅

I will definitely be reading Somaiya Daud’s books in the future.

Thanks for reading and Happy Black History month! 💙

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brutal-nemesis · 4 years ago

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Glass Day 2020: Broken Glass-tys

Woot glass day! Dragging Castys out again for this cuz he’s fun to hurt. This is set very early in his time at the lab which is one of my favorite settings for whump :D!

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: glass in wounds, mild gore, slight dehumanization, needles, poison, muzzle

It took seventeen days for them to get tired of him talking. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. They seemed to have grown tired of it almost immediately, but up until now they’d just gag him whenever he got to be too much. Alas, Castys woke up from the morning’s round of organ harvests with something tightly covering the lower half of his face and a metal bit forced between his teeth, an unwelcome addition to the myriad of straps securing him to the table. He’d have loved to reach up and check what it was and also take it the fuck off, but today’s Hell Time was far from over so his wrists wouldn’t be free anytime soon.

“What’s on the agenda for Subject 000001 today?” One of the workers asked as he checked Castys’s vitals, making sure he’d completely come back to life. Ugh, this stupid thing made it impossible for Castys to even make weird faces at the guy.

“We’re starting foreign object healing tests on this one since the other test group is starting with it as well, and we’d like to compare the results...” Ooh, how well Castys could heal foreign objects with his special immortal boy powers! No, that probably wasn’t it at all. It was probably something horribly painfully terrible. Maybe if he’d listen to what the white coats were prattling on about he would know, but they were boring and used too much jargon. You’d think listening to people talk about how they were going to cut you up would be remotely interesting, but it really wasn’t. At least not the way they talked about it.

So it was a surprise but also not when they began making a series of cuts along his arm with their sharp little knives. You know, he had to give them credit for that. Most people who cut him didn’t have weapons that were quite as sharp, and dull blades hurt so much more. But most people who cut him didn’t start shoving sharp little whatever-the-hell chunks into his wounds seriously what are those fucks doing. Upon looking down, Castys discovered that, ah, they were shoving broken glass into his arm, how lovely. Double the pain of any injury by just shoving glass into it! And call it science!

Some of the wounds they stitched up for some reason, trapping the glass shards inside him, and some they just left open with the jagged little presents sticking out. Castys realized what they were actually up to the moment the needle entered his other arm, injecting the familiar poison into his veins. Very...mean of you, he thought as he sunk into the poison’s deadly embrace.

Came back to life and yup, his stupid flesh had healed around the glass. The pieces that hadn’t been sewn in had popped out, but the stitches had kept the rest of the glass in his arm. The thread of the stitches was still in his arm as well, now just useless embroidery over unbroken flesh. And, hopefully but also not hopefully, that thread and glass would have to come out. An unfun process, but one Castys would rather happen than being condemned to Glass In Your Arm.

“Subject 000001, flex your hand.” Okay, as much as he hated responding to that, this was his favorite command they gave him. Express permission to make rude hand gestures! They’d started giving him that command more often recently, probably since it was the only one he’d actually do every time without any, ah, persuasion. He winced a bit as he did it, the movement of his muscles against the glass in his arm a brand new kind of ouch. Was that what they were looking for? Who knows. No matter what happened they always wrote it down, which was the science part of the whole thing, he supposed.

The other science part was Doing The Same Thing Again But Stepping It The Fuck Up A Notch, which this time translated to a stupid large shard of glass. This time they made an incision in his abdomen and shoved it in at an angle, causing Castys to clench his teeth tightly around the metal bit. God, even biting it hurt, as if the whole situation couldn’t get any worse. He could feel the glass sliding deeper into him, like...no, this wasn’t like anything he had ever felt before. Even when the glass was completely inside him they kept pushing it, further and further from the incision. After it had been shoved in a ridiculous distance they stopped and injected him with the poison once again.

He came back to a sharp, stinging pain. The glass was still inside him, wasn’t it? And oh boy, they were poking at the unnatural lump in his stomach where it still resided, taking notes all the while. The most refined of methods to be sure. And once again Castys found himself thinking ah, surely this is the worst it can get yes this will be today’s peak Horrible only to be absolutely proven wrong. Because next they brought out some nice, long needles. He was not a fan of needles not that anyone really was. At least hopefully no one was, could you imagine liking-

Intense, sharp pinching sensations lit up his arm. For added fun, they pressed down on some of the needles once they were fully inserted into his flesh. He felt a little snap along with even more little pinpricks of pain. The needles were also made of glass, fantastic. Who even came up with this stuff? Who woke up and decided, yeah, let’s shove little glass needles into Cast-sorry, Subject 000001’s arm and break them, filling his arm with horrible little splinters that-oh god they’re going to have to be dug out too I fucking hate it here. Another injection, another death, another instance of coming back to find that there was still glass inside him. Most of the needles that hadn’t been broken had popped out when he regenerated, but some were stuck inside him at weird angles along with the broken ones.

“Let’s clean up and break for lunch.” Castys had been tuning out most of their conversation, but those blessed words caught his attention. This weird glass bullshit was finally over! At least for now, because he could totally see them repeating the exact same thing again for posterity or whatever. Hopefully they would at least take this stupid thing off his face now that they were done. But when they didn’t put down their knives, Castys remembered that in fact there was something terrible that still had to happen before they were really done.

Yup, he was right, this was absolutely the worst part. They sliced him open all over again and started to dig the pieces of glass out, but glass is slippery, especially when coated in blood. Even with rubber-tipped tweezers, it took them a few tries to grab some of the shards, pushing them deeper into his flesh in the process. Castys’s arm tensed in pain a few times while they did this, sometimes helping to push the glass out, and sometimes only making things worse. But could they be bothered to fish around for the little pieces of the broken glass needles? No, no they could not be. Their method of extracting it was both efficient and also incredibly painful, which was very on brand for this place.

Castys screwed his eyes shut as they sliced off strips of his arm. He wasn’t sure if it hurt more or less than them digging around with tweezers, but it wasn’t like he needed to pick what was worse. Just designate this whole experience as absolutely agonizing, please don’t repeat it, I’d like to get the fuck out of here, holy god just STOP- well, hey, they stopped. And after cleaning their tools, they started to leave, which was incredibly rude. Castys pounded on the table as much as he could with his wrists restrained, because, hello guys, I’m still fucking bleeding all over the place get the hell over here and kill me so I don’t have to lie here in pain until- and they’re gone. Great. Welcome to lying on a table with your arms and stomach sliced up for however long and thinking about how it sucks but somehow what comes after is going to somehow be so much worse so you should just enjoy it hour! And he couldn’t even talk to himself since they still hadn’t taken that stupid thing off his face.

And they wouldn’t anytime soon.

Castys gang tags: @as-a-matter-of-whump @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#i wrote something #glass day #glass day 2020 #castys #immortal whumpee #lab whump #gore #dehumanization #needles #poison #muzzle #the amount of times i use the word ''flesh'' in this is （⊙_⊙）#someone cure me of this disease #nope i did a search and it's 4 times which isnt really that much #im just dumb its fine #why is castys such a fan of run on sentences who made him like this ~~oops it was me~~#he fucking called me out to for coming up with glass needle shit at 9:30 on a monday morning #i want to beat him-wait i already did #i hope the humor wasn't too distracting that's just how he is I Apologize #but yeah they boy doesn't *need* to eat so that muzzle doesnt need to come off at all #unless it's TEETH time #i dont have any teeth shit planned but that could be arranged #i could be convinced (it wont take much convincing ;)#glad ive had this whole thing sitting in drafts for a phat minute #cuz i had a wild night with the lads last night and im still a lil out of it #my chest still hurts from laughing cuz jackbox'll do that to ya

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avenger-hawk · 4 years ago

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Tagged by @altraes (thank you, it was fun to do this~)

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

(I wrote the first paragraphs because my first lines alone don’t make much sense lol)

1- ACQUIESCENCE (Minato/Itachi) my first fic ever. darkish but just a little, angsty. I’m proud of it cause another author wrote a sequel to it.

to ac·qui·esce: to accept, agree, or allow something to happen by staying silent or by not arguing. A flurry of leaves, swept away by the autumn wind, caught the Hokage's attention while he took off his large hat. That time of the year should have been warmer.

2- THE WILL OF FIRE (Shiita, Danzo/Shisui, Danzo/Itachi) This was dark and shiita fans didn’t like it lol.

Just like his owner, Danzo's studio was dark and dusty. The man didn't look as old as Hiruzen, but he was twice as scary; thus would think a boy of Itachi's age. Not him. He was not allowed to be afraid.

3- WHAT HE WANTED (Itasasu) Even tho I rewrote it cause I didn’t like how I initially characterized them and their dynamics this is my most popular fic. Maybe because it’s a post-ending, canon divergent, fix-it kind of story. Maybe because it’s Itasasu and I put so much love into writing their dynamics and, also, in giving Sasuke a good ending since canon didn’t do him justice.

Sasuke is where everybody wants him to be: in Konoha. With the battle and the arm he also lost the urge to fight. He's had enough of traveling. He's tired of chasing and being chased. So tired that even if he meant every word about starting a revolution, being the Hokage and build a new era, he had wondered, though only for a moment, if he would be able to really accomplish such tasks all by himself.

4- IN POWER WE ENTRUST THE LOVE ADVOCATED (Itasasu) THis is my second most popular fic. This one too was written after the ending and tried to give Sasuke justice. I planned to write a sequel but I got busy with other projects and lost interest in it.

The gates open, letting the shinobi in after a successfully completed mission. Being on duty the following day Sasuke declines his team mates' proposal to have dinner together, the reddish sunset light forcing him to squint as he walks towards the Hokage's office.

5- PRESSURE (Itasasu) Taken from In Power that can be read as a standalone oneshot.

Itachi wakes up to the sound of pouring water.

6- IN DREAMS (Itasasu, Izuna/Sasuke, DARKFIC). This is one of the darkest things I wrote. The Izuna/Sasuke crackpair was for @admiral-izusasu. The plot, the dynamics, everything has a double, or triple reading, plot related and metaphorical for other, real-life issues such as knowing people online, and emotional abuse from narcissistic people. I wrote it when I was fighting against one of these psychos, on tumblr itself, so this fic has a personal meaning for me. But also the plot and the canon divergent ending thing is cool, I think it’s one of my best fics, even though I coulnd’t care less about izuna.

They say that nature will always find a way. After the end of the war flowers keep blooming like nothing happened even if the light is fainter, filtered from the tall branches of the Shinju tree, now grown into a forest spread all over the world.

7- SOMBER CREATION PALE DESTRUCTION (Madara/Sasuke dom/sub-ish). Darkish? Who knows, I write darkfish stuff all the time. I was (and am) very proud of this fic, the canon divergent turn it took (who am I kidding, it’s really cool lol) and the weird relationship/dynamics these 2 created. So I didn’t update it anymore, because doing so would break their thin balance. Ssssh, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense, I don’t believe you xD

History teaches that Madara Uchiha died at the hands of Hashirama Senju. Their statues were erected in the Valley Of The End where their battle was fought, where the shinobi god ended his best friend's life in order to protect the village they founded together. No one knows that Madara didn't die there.

8- IN THE DARK (kakashi/Sasuke, mob/Sasuke noncon). This is a very dark oneshot that I’m proud of, cause it ‘explains’ canon Sasuke personality in Shinden and later, and that I use as prequel for many fics, like WHW but also OFAF and Broken Things (see later for both).

Things never went as Sasuke wanted. After the war it's no different, although everything seems fine at first, Team 7 finally at peace with each other, the war ended and the village that Itachi protected, even as a dead man, safe. Nevertheless he is arrested when he's still in the hospital.

9- VICTIMS OF PEACE (Shisui/Sasuke dom/sub-ish) I am so proud of this fic, of its non massacre universe, of the dark-ish slow burn relationship between Shisui and Sasuke I wrote, tentatively at first cause no one did it or thought much about it, and because that non massacre filler was bad, but still it was inspiration. I know shiita fans hated me even more for this cause shisui is only paired with itachi, and also itachi/itasasu fans were disappointed but still. This is maybe the fic I’m most proud of.

If a traveler arrived from a random village in the Fire Country he would certainly notice how different Konoha was. He would not be able to pinpoint exactly why at first, because the buildings, houses and shops are similar, just like their gardens, fields and animals. Only after some thought he would understand that the difference is in their people: other villagers are relaxed and casual, even loud. Children run around the streets, chasing each other, playing tag or hide-and-seek. Their fathers bring them presents and their mothers buy them new clothes.

10- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS (DARK Narusasu) I received a lot of hate for this one, which makes me proud of it even more. so many naruto stans were butthurt by my characterization of him as a possessive not sunshine selfless boy and their dynamics as crazy.

Jiraiya used to complain that the first sign of getting old was waking up at night for no reason and not being able to fall back asleep. For Naruto, this only happened after the war.

11- BLACK ROSES (Itasasu, dom/sub-ish) Smutty Bloody Darky Hokage Itachi/Anbu Sasuke oneshot

Because of his farsighted politics, his loyalty towards his allies as well as his iron fist against his enemies, Itachi quickly became one of the most respected leaders in the shinobi world, and because of his unequaled diplomatic skills, along with his vast culture, impeccable manners and refined appearance, he became popular among nobles, including the Daimyo, whose official visits increased since the Uchiha rose to power.

12- NELL’IPOTESI GRANDE (=IN THE BIG HYPOTHESIS) (MetaMoro, not Naruto) I’m very proud of this one cause it’s a psycho-pass inspired longfic set in a retrofuturistic Italy with a totalitarian consumeristic regime. But that fandom is so shitty and they all hate me cause I called them homophobic fascists so no one cares. The excerpt is translated too.

He’s reminded of Pirandello’s* words as he’s riding the automatic taxi across the city, exiting the center towards EUR. COmpared to Milan with its skyscrapers, multilevel streets, automatic cars and incessant novelties, the capital is basically the same as it was portrayed in old illustrations: renaissance and 20th century buildings, seagulls, pines among the Roman ruins, sycamore trees on the Lungotevere, that was probably already busy with traffic when people travelled on horse carriages. (*an Italian writer)

13- DA UOMO A UOMO, MANO NELLA MANO (from man to man, hand in hand) (Metamoro) lol I was hated a lot for this one too. tbh the hate I received in the Naruto fandom is nothing compared to this other shitty fandom

For an artist like Fabrizio, mainly focused on expressing what he has inside, public relations are the hardest part of his job, especially when it’s about events where, instead of fans, of whom he perceives the sincere affection, other artists and professionals are invited. His experience taught him that most of them are hypocrites ready to jump on the winner’s bandwagon as quickly as to throw mud at the loser.

14- STRENGTH THROUGH WOUNDING (wip) (Obito/Sasuke, Obito/Itachi, dark.-ish)

There is something nostalgic in the eerie way the boy's screams resonate through the dark cavern-like hideout, their pain bouncing from one curved wall to another, their anguish filling their crevices. It’s like hearing his past self from an external perspective, like Madara did. Which is fitting, for Obito is Madara now.

15- WORDS UNSAID (wip) (Kakashi/Sasuke)

A black flame that cannot be extinguished: they had been warned about Amaterasu by Jiraiya, but seeing it was impressive nevertheless. The whole area was surrounded by black flames and the rain pouring hard could nothing against it. They found Sasuke there, surrounded, imprisoned by black flames that were extinguishing themselves, so they found a breach.

16- BLEEDING ME (Metamoro vampire/priest darkfic) No one can understand this in the Naruto fandom but it’s an AU interpretation of the Da UOMO A UOMO character dynamics where one is an emotional vampire-like person. I’m very proud of this fic tbh.

According to folk stories the forest was so big and full of dangers that God himself put a church where it ended, so that its priest would protect the people living nearby. It was a small, white building that didn’t match the typical stones and wood brownish ones of that region, with no stained glass windows or fancy columns, spires or gargoyles, only crosses with skulls and bones, and an engraving in an unknown language.

17- WILD CHILD (Metamoro cop/drug dealer AU). At this point I hate that fandom so much but I like my ideas and I write only for my girl whom I met in that very shitty fandom.

Everything seems bigger in children’s eyes. Like the playground in the courtyard of the church, with its slides and swings that for Ermal’s siblings were the setting of countless imaginary adventures which they told him in detail, enthusiastically interrupting each other, when he picked them up after school.

18- TRUE COLORS (Itasasu, dark, dom/sub) By now I’m only interested in writing dark IS and I enjoyed writing this one lol

"I knew you had it in you. You're a sadistic control freak. Even more than me." Orochimaru's voice resounded in Itachi's ears. Again.

19- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS 2: TO REPAIR WITH GOLD (Dark Narusasu). Cause I didn’t piss off NS fans enough I guess? lol this is ongoing and I like this idea so much

It's a rainy day in Konoha but no one seems to notice. Everyone is focused on the Hokage delivering his eulogy.

20- BROKEN THINGS (Shisui/Sasuke) My latest creation, I’m so proud of it cause it’s Shisasu again, my rarepair! and it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got longer because they have such a cool dynamic that things just happen and get longer.

In the Land of Water summers were hot and damp, autumn and spring were damp for the frequent rains and winter was no less, with its cold temperature and ubiquitous dampness. It wasn't a problem for Sasuke though.

Tagging: @renamon15 and all the other authors I can’t remember right now and who want to do this, tag me back so I can read your first lines lol

#I'm not reading nar fics so xD #I'm actually back into reading my old favourite bleach fics cause I used to be into bleach so much before naruto #ask meme/tag game #my writing #fics & art recs #lol for some reason the pressure first line seems funny out of context

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theasstour · 5 years ago

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𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓡𝓮𝓯𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓘𝓷 𝓪 𝓣𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓫𝔂 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓮 𝓝𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 15k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓪𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓱𝓸𝓵, 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮

A/N: biggest thanks to @shepherald for being bb’s italian auntie! ilysm!

Friday, 9 August 2019

First thing Y/N realised when she woke up was that she was still wearing her dress. Her thighs and neck were clammy from having slept a full summer night in too many layers. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to realise that the hard thing she was resting her neck on was an arm. Harry laid on his back, arm outstretched for Y/N while the other one was bent and rested on the pillow above his head. During the night, Viola had gotten into bed with them. She laid comfortably right between them, cosying up in each of their body heat without a care in the world.

The morning outside was sunny as it always was, birds chirping, and an old moped struggling up the hill through Fosdinovo. The sheer white curtains swayed ever so slightly with the wind, swishing along the floor, the motion almost lulling Y/N back to sleep. But then she averted her eyes to look at her companion instead.

Harry’s mouth was open ever so slightly, eyes closed, his short dark eyelashes contrasting starkly with his skin even though he had acquired quite a tan always working outside. He looked so peaceful like that. Nothing bothered him. He was so completely taken by sleep, chest moving in a comforting rhythm, and if you looked close enough, you could just see the slight vibrations of the beating of his heart with the ruffles resting on his chest.

“Know you’re awake.”

His voice was much darker in the mornings. His vocal cords rough, eyes still closed, but Y/N could tell they were a little swollen from a short sleep. At the sound of his voice she blinked a little, watching him breathe steadily for a few seconds before she found her words.

“You’re awake.”

“And you’re not snoring anymore.” He said, eyes fluttering open. They landed on the ceiling right above them but slowly, like he was preparing himself for something, he glanced at her. A curl fell onto his forehead, Y/N was tempted to reach up and place it back where it’d been earlier, but she thought he looked almost prettier like this; a little dishevelled, completely relaxed, not caring about anything but her.

She huffed, readjusting her head so that the pressure of Harry’s arm was on a different spot. “Got a lot of nasal tissue that flops around, makes me snore loads.”

“Know that’s why people snore. I don’t mind you snoring.”

Harry started moving around as well, but his intentions of getting closer to Y/N halted when he noticed Viola placed neatly between them. With his free hand, he reached down and stroked Viola gently, watching as she stretched and leaned into his touch. Y/N watched Harry’s face, the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of her lips. Somehow, the fact that Harry didn’t mind her snoring, when it had been something she’d struggled with her whole life, meant more to her than she thought it would.

“Make a lot of noise while you’re awake and while you’re asleep.”

Y/N laughed at this, and seeing Harry giggle as well awoke all the butterflies in her tummy.

“I’m just an early riser.” He continued, looking up at her again. Bloody hell, his eyes… she thought, admiring how they looked golden in the early morning light.

“And if I can sleep till 2pm, I will.” Y/N said, yawning.

“Basically,” Harry started as he lifted his hand off of Viola to touch Y/N. But Viola quickly started moving, demanding his attention. He placed his hand back on her. “You’re saying you don’t like waking up early. Like, at all.”

“I’d rather be sleeping.” She closed her eyes again, cursing Viola for having Harry wrapped around her little finger.

“Do you want me to leave so you can sleep some more?”

“Why can’t I sleep while you’re here?”

She could hear the small smile in his voice as he said, “Thought you might want to be alone.”

Y/N opened her eyes, raising her eyebrows at him. “When do I ever?”

For some reason, the smile that had been on Harry’s lips slowly evaporated. Some kind of seriousness filled his face, it took Y/N a bit by surprise. This time, he didn’t care about Viola’s complaints as he removed his hand. Gently, he placed it on Y/N’s cheek, his thumb caressing her so lightly that she wouldn’t have felt it if all her senses hadn’t focused on Harry in front of her and his touch. She noticed him swallowing, saw his Adam’s apple bob with his struggle to remove the lump from somewhere in his throat.

“Non andartene, celeste.” He mumbled so faintly it was basically a whisper.

“Hm?” her eyes were wide, waiting for Harry to translate for her.

His eyes fell to her shoulder, letting his hand stroke down her cheek, jaw, and neck. Sliding his index finger tenderly over her outline; the crook of her hips, the soft edges of her waist. All she knew in those seconds were his finger, nothing else mattered.

“I’ve painted this landscape multiple times,” he said, eyes on his wandering hand. “Can paint it by memory now.”

Had he? Painted it – her – by memory? Had he thought about her as much outside of work as she had about him? Had they wasted weeks trying to be polar opposites when they weren’t? Had they tried to hate one another longer than they had to because they knew giving in, admitting that there was something there, would hurt more than ignoring it altogether?

“Wonder if I’ll ever be able to visualise the physical pain I feel in my chest when I think about you leaving in six days.”

She didn’t want to think about that. There was a whole life waiting for her back home in England; uni, obligations, her family, friends. But she did not want to leave Italy; did not want to leave Harry. Not after everything they’d just admitted and all the time they had to make up for. Six days wasn’t enough; would never be enough. She was simply not strong enough to lay in her bed, looking at Harry who had promised not to leave her, and think about the fact that she was leaving in under a week.

She got up from the bed, walking over to the wardrobe. She heard Harry sitting up in bed, felt him watch her as she opened the double doors and reached for something laying on the little top shelf.

“When I first moved into the flat, I found a painting in this wardrobe.” She pulled it down, taking a glance at the autumn painting depicting a gravel path leading nowhere into darkness. Turning around, she walked back over to the bed, handing the painting to Harry. “That’s only one of like, two of your paintings I’ve really seen, other was one of the sea back in your house. Mind if I ask what inspired this one?”

Harry held up the painting, eyes taking it in feverishly like he was scanning it for past mistakes. Lips parted, he let out a deep sigh that had been held in for what felt like years. Resting it on his knees he continued to just look at it, clearly not having thought about this exact piece in a long while. Y/N sat down in bed, bringing her feet up with her and leaning on her hand as she joined him in looking at the painting.

“It’s the drive to my house back in Manchester. The drive up to my childhood home, or… this is facing the other way.” He explained, dragging his finger gently along the gravel path. “It’s what you see when you’re leaving.” He shifted the attention of his finger to the trees of different colours. “Autumn, the dull colours…” he trailed off, as if reliving a memory he’d almost suppressed; something he’d pushed so far into the back of his head it had almost vaporised and disappeared into nothingness. “This was when I left home, when I first moved to London.” He pointed at the darkness at the end of the gravel path. “That’s the end of the road, I couldn’t make it out clearly. My future, I mean. It’s all supposed to represent uncertainty.”

“I can see that.” Y/N nodded, studying the painting as Harry removed his hand. “You lived in London before you moved to Italy?”

“Yeah,” Harry studied the painting. “Moved out when I was 18, had some money from working retail since I was 15. Saved up and all that. Moved to London where I sold my first painting, and quickly started painting more for more people. After three years of that, I felt like I was drained, I needed to find someplace else where I could find inspiration. Life in London wasn’t it anymore. So, I moved to Italy.” He took a deep breath. “Had some idea of what I was getting myself into, knew the language some, so I went to Milan. Lived there till I was around 23, doing the same I did in London; selling paintings till I was drained and tired of the place.”

“How can you get tired of Milan?”

Harry huffed. “There’s enough to do in Milan and the city’s beautiful, but the people on the other hand…”

Y/N chuckled. “What?”

“Let’s just say some of the entitled twat millionaires I painted for made it easy to leave.”

She smiled, glancing at the painting as Harry continued to talk.

“Didn’t want to leave Italy, though, so I moved to Rome, did the same there for about a year. City drained me, as you can tell by the previous pattern.”

She giggled.

“And then I moved up North to Tuscany; to Fosdinovo. Thought maybe a small village would do me good as I’d only ever lived in major cities my entire life.” Harry fell quiet, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows. “For the first time since Jamie, I made a genuine friend. Or I thought I did.” He fell quiet, taking a breath. “Salvatore and I got on right away. He taught me some Italian, I showed him how to paint and draw, and I let him in, didn’t hold anything back. I got to be part of his friend group; Carina, Rin, and Meo. The five of us hung out all the time, and some of those days were the best of my life.” He rested his hands on top of the canvas. “Suddenly though, I realised I’d taken a proper fancy to Carina. Gotten myself a little crush. Got all blushy when she was around and all that stuff. Somehow managed to ask her out on a date and she accepted. I was excited about this, so I went to my closest friend in Fosdinovo to ask advice on where to take her. When Salvatore heard those news, he didn’t seem as excited as I thought he was gonna be. Two of his mates were dating, wasn’t that something to be happy about?”

Harry rose from the bed, walking over to the wardrobe and placing the painting back where Y/N had kept it all summer.

“But I went on the date, and Carina… she didn’t seem that interested. She looked around all the time, which was fair, everyone’s allowed to look wherever they wanna.” Harry scratched at his jaw. “Kind of broke my heart a little, ‘cause I’d gone through the trouble of asking her out, but she didn’t fancy me like that after all. But it’s fine. It was worth a shot, I guess. Even though it made me look like a right fool. I walked her home and apologised if I’d made this awkward, though she assured me I hadn’t.”

Harry sat down on the floor before the bed so he was facing Y/N properly. Viola suddenly jumped down and snuggled into his leg, he immediately started petting her.

“When I got back to my house… Salvatore was sat on my steps, very clearly drunk, and insisted that he needed to tell me something. He said we had to take it inside ‘cause someone could overhear and he didn’t want that…” Harry frowned, eyes on Viola. “I feel like I’ve got no business saying this because it’s Salvatore’s right to say it out loud, not me but… he told me he was in love with me, that… that he knew I loved him, too. When I told him I loved him as a brother, he got quiet for like a minute before he told me he was only joking around, and then left in a hurry.”

Y/N was about to say something but stopped herself.

“Salvatore isn’t out yet, and I don’t even know what he identifies as – not that I need to -, so I shouldn’t have said that… but it’s part of the whole story and why living here the past year or so has been shit.” Harry sighed. “We didn’t talk to each other for a week, and when I finally met with the gang again, Sal and Carina sat very close. She… she pulled me aside and told me she hoped it was fine that she was dating Salvatore.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It all made so much more sense now, and she understood the awkward tension at the pub the week prior.

“Told her she was free to date whoever she wanted to.” Harry continued, scratching Viola behind her ears. Y/N saw his shoulders move with a deep sigh. “I was the newest member of the little group, and now also the most controversial as being there only made things unpleasant and tense with Sal and Carina and I. So, I took a step back and slowly isolated myself from the whole friend group.”

Y/N wanted to reach over and take Harry’s hand. Wanted to show him that no matter what, he didn’t have to feel as shitty as he once had. She was there.

“Suddenly the whole town knew, as it always does, and I just stayed in my house. When I finally left It, people were looking at me funny and it was… embarrassing. I felt proper stupid. I had already put up a wall from my past experiences back home, growing up basically without parents and always being the second choice every time, I’ve never really had anyone close, but this… being left and being alone again… it hurt.”

There was a heaviness in Y/N’s chest after hearing Harry talk. Hearing how bad he’d felt, how bad the people he considered to be his closest companions had treated him, it made her feel so incredibly sad. She never wanted him to feel like that. Never again.

She didn’t take her eyes off him as she said, “Carina was in love with Salvatore the whole time? While she was on a date with you?”

Harry nodded. “Think she tried to date me to get a reaction out of Salvatore, and though that’s a shitty move, she’s not a bad person, I swear.”

Y/N sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I know. She seems very nice.”

Harry glanced at her for a few moments, eyes scanning her face. Once he figured she was being sincere with her compliment to Carina, he glanced back down at Viola. Y/N bit her lip, trying not to ask the question that was resting at the tip of her tongue. Though she had always found it very hard to resist talking.

“Is that why you fall in love so easily?”

Harry looked up at her again. “How do you mean?”

“With Carina being so nice and all…”

“You mean if I fall in love easily because people are nice to me?”

“Dunno,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “That’s how I fell for Noah. He treated me better than others, he was very nice to me, so I fell in love.”

“Think there’s more to falling in love than that,” Harry said, letting a small chuckle leave his lips before he lifted his gaze to look at her. “I mean, I’ve-“ Just as their eyes met, he stopped talking. It was as if his brain had built a protective wall somewhere in his throat, refusing him to say whatever his heart wanted him to.

Y/N felt her body grow hot and she looked away, just as Harry cleared his throat, still looking at her.

“Look,” he started, clearly eager to forget what had just happened. “Do you still wanna go to the wedding after what happened last night? We don’t have to.”

She huffed, picking at some fluff on her duvet. “Harry, you can still go-“

“-I’m not going without you.”

Her fingers tingled, Harry’s words doing wonders as they always did when he used them right. He sounded genuinely desperate, something that made her very happy, as she wanted him to want her around like she wanted him around. Mutually crazy about one another.

She sighed. “I’ll feel bad for Marco if I don’t show up and taste his cake. Could we maybe only attend the reception?”

“Got it.” Harry gave Viola a small boop to her nose before he got up from the floor. “I’ll pick you up around seven, yeah?”

“You’re leaving?”

As he reached the front door, he turned around. A hand on the door handle and the other one in his pocket. “I… I have to deal with something. I’ve been postponing the meeting all morning ‘cause I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Y/N furrowed her brows at him, ignoring Viola as she started meowing for Harry to cpme back so he could cuddle her. “I woke up before you.”

A crooked smile appeared on his face. “No.”

She bit her lips together, refusing to let herself burst out into fists of giggled because she thought Harry looked fit with that wry smile on his face. Besides, he had stayed in bed, not moved a single muscle, because he didn’t want to wake her.

“And I also promised to tell you everything last night. I don’t break a promise.”

Fuck it, she thought, grinning at him.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Harry repeated, turning the handle and opening the door.

“Rin told me the other day that Italian wedding receptions start around 3pm.” Y/N blurted out; Harry stopped. “If we’re skipping the church bit, won’t we have to show up at 3pm?”

Harry shook his head. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck, to be honest. We show up when we want to.”

Y/N smiled a little.

“If we’re going to go by Italian wedding rules, we also have to show up and give the couple money as a wedding gift.”

She furrowed her brows. “Money? Not anything else? You can’t be creative?”

“It’s called la busta. Basically you give the couple money so you can pay for your part in the reception, if it makes sense?” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “They put the money together at the end and pay the restaurant back, and all that. The remaining sum is used on their honeymoon. But since Fosdinovo is basically just a huge family, I doubt Salvatore and Carina have to pay much.”

“Ahh,” Y/N nodded. “Can you give normal gifts as well?”

“Probably, but it’s not normal for people to. Think if you’re a close friend and you had money problems, for example, you could give another gift to the couple.”

Y/N nodded again, giving him a smile. “Alright. I won’t keep you from your meeting.”

“See ya then.”

He nodded, taking a final look at her sitting on her bed, the bright morning sun shining in on her. “Have a good day, Y/N.” And then he closed the door.

Y/N quickly looked down at Viola who was sleeping on the floor now, just where Harry had left her. Sighing, she ran a hand over her cat’s fur, nodding her head a little.

“I know, Viola. I know.”

Y/N loved dressing up. Putting on nice clothes made her feel good about herself, it made her feel fancy and pretty. She liked feeling that way. So she usually made an effort when she woke up in the mornings, just because she knew she herself would appreciate it.

For the reception, Y/N had put on a black satin pleated midi dress along with her knee socks. Though the Italian summer was humid and hot, she knew Harry would like her wearing them, and she’d put them on just to see his reaction. She was sat doing her makeup when her phone buzzed with a text. Eager to see who wanted to get a hold of her, Y/N checked her phone, though she had to take a little double take at first to make sure she got the name correctly.

Rin Where are you?

Y/N was flattered that Rin had waited for her arrival, but confused as to why she thought she’d show up after everything.

Y/N Home.

Rin Why? You were invited to the wedding, weren’t you?

This had her frowning and she quickly typed out a response.

Y/N Yes, but I didn’t want to go.

Rin What’s going on?

Y/N It’s Salvatore innit? He didn’t tell me he was getting married.

This caused Rin to halt for a few seconds.

Rin He never told you?

Y/N No, does he act like he did with me around other girls too? Is that why you didn’t stop him at the pub?

Rin He flirts harmlessly, but that was way over the line. I didn’t know how to properly react.

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, hating this whole situation. Rin had become her mate and she should’ve told her she wasn’t coming. But at the same time, why had Rin expected her to?

Y/N That’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. I’ll see you at the reception.

Rin Can’t wait!

Y/N smiled a little, putting her phone down to finish her makeup. However, she was very rudely interrupted not long after by a pebble hitting her window. Immediately, she knew who it was. She looked outside, seeing Harry stand on the street below, looking up at her with a soft smile on his face. He was wearing a skinny velvet tuxedo blazer in navy blue, a black turtleneck under it, tucked into skinny trousers that were held in place by a black belt. Though he had dressed all elegantly the night before, Harry had chosen a more relaxed look for a wedding he obviously did not want to be part of.

“You’re taking too bloody long.” He complained, making Y/N roll her eyes at him.

“Why couldn’t you just knock on my door like a normal person?”

“Because I’m not a normal person.”

“No, you’re not.” Y/N shook her head some. “I’ll be down in a sec.”

So she put everything she needed in her little purse, made sure she looked good, and then turned to Viola, giving her a peck to her forehead before she left. She was shoving her keys into her purse when she reached the ground floor, just looking up at Harry as she came outside. He looked even better from up close, very well put-together and incredibly fit. As he always was.

“You’re quite chilled for the occasion.” She remarked, giving him a smile. “You look good.”

“And you…” Harry let his eyes scan her body, caressing her like his hands had done the night before. She suddenly felt very flustered, but in the very best way. She never wanted him to stop looking at her like that. Their eyes met again, and still, Harry didn’t know what words to use.

“Viola got your tongue?”

Harry blinked.

“’Cause she’s a cat.”

Harry quickly shook his head twice, as if he was suddenly coming back down to earth from an intense daydream. “I… I didn’t hear what you just said… but yes. Cat.”

Y/N laughed, starting to walk up the street. “Let’s get to this wedding, yeah?”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the city centre where the reception was held. The restaurants around the town square had put out all their tables, white tablecloth and white roses in elegant vases on each one. Veins of green with white roses and the occasional light hung across the square, giving it a dim lighting so people could dance to the music and see properly. Fosdinovo wasn’t very well lit usually, most likely because of its rural positioning and the few people that lived there. They had simply not bothered putting up that many streetlights. But all the houses around the square and the lights that were hung up across it lit everything, and it was easy to make out everyone in the warm yellow illumination now.

As they approached the square, they were quick to find a place to sit, both scanning the crowd for any familiar faces they didn’t particularly want to encounter that night. Namely Salvatore. While looking around, Y/N’s eyes fell on a familiar figure that was waving enthusiastically, a huge grin on his face that made his small eyes disappear behind his layers of wrinkles. She waved back at Marco, seeing him gesture at the table with all the desserts, then at the huge wedding cake that there wasn’t much left of.

“I’ll go say hi to Marco quick.” Y/N said, getting up from her seat.

“Right.” Harry nodded, still looking around for anyone that might want to cause him and or both of them harm.

“Hey,” Y/N laid her hand on his resting on the table. “It’ll be fine. Swear I’ll be back in 5 minutes.”

He nodded again and she gave him a tiny squeeze before she walked off. Marco was greeting her with his sunshine smile when she approached, pointing at his cake and then at himself.

“Not bad, no?” he said, smiling at someone who came over to treat themselves to a slice.

“It looks amazing, and I bet it tastes even better.”

“It does, it does. You have to taste it and bring a piece to signor Styles as well.” Marco busied himself then with cutting two slices, putting them on two plates. “But first, you try.”

Y/N smiled at him, getting herself a fork as Marco held the plate out to her. She dug into it, taking her time to chew to get all the flavour and to really savour the cake. Widening her eyes and nodding, she let Marco know it tasted amazing before she swallowed and had an opportunity to speak for herself.

“It’s delicious.”

“Well, of course!” He laughed, handing her the other plate. “You two have fun, yes?”

“We came for the cake.”

Marco laughed, not detecting the truth that was clothed as a lie, something Y/N was very thankful for because she hadn’t been able to stop herself from saying that and it could’ve ended very badly. Giving each other one last smile, Y/N trotted off toward Harry again who was now sitting at their table with two drinks.

“You plan on getting drunk?” she asked, sitting down and placing the cake in front of him.

Harry nodded before gesturing with glass at where Marco and Y/N had stood talking. “Made loads, did he?”

“Yes, and he wanted us to taste the cake.”

“Thank you.” Harry said as Y/N handed him a spoon.

They both took a bite and Y/N sighed deeply, leaning back against the back of the chair. “It’s delicious, innit? Didn’t expect anything less from Marco, he owns the bakery after all.”

Harry nodded as he swallowed, dipping the spoon in for another bite. “Just because you own it doesn’t mean you gotta know how to bake proper.”

“Right,” she held a hand up. “Shut up.”

Harry looked at her through his eyelashes, smiling a little before he swallowed his bite and went in for another one. “Because I’m right?”

“Because Marco made a great cake and we should give him all the praise in the world for it.” She said matter-of-factly, reaching for the glass Harry had placed before her.

“Yeah, alright.”

“What’s this?”

“Sex on the beach.” He reached for his own glass then, taking a huge gulp of it. “Loads of vodka.”

Y/N brought the drink up to her lips, taking a sip of it. “Lovely.”

He smiled and the two ate and drank in silence. People were dancing, some were eating, and others were just standing around talking. It felt right that the whole village was there, celebrating someone’s union and forgetting everything bad for just a single night. Everyone’s spirits were so high and Y/N really liked it this way, feeling part of something small yet big; part of something very positive. Harry got up some time later, getting them both a refill before he came back to her. They just sat there drinking for a bit, talking when they felt like it, but for the most part either staring at one another or looking around. It felt comfortable – safe – having the other there; their presence alone made the whole situation a whole lot better. It was when he came back with their third refill, both tipsy and already eager to leave, it was then that the two other chairs at their table were dragged along the cobblestone and two people sat down with them.

“Hi.” Rin said, folding her hands on the table before her.

“What’s up?” Meo smiled, looking far less serious than Rin. Something he always did. He looked at Harry, and Harry looked right back at him, not really knowing what to make of the situation that was unfolding itself before him. Meo gave him a small pat to the back. “Good to see you.”

Harry just nodded in response.

“Salvatore and Carina haven’t seen you two yet and maybe that’s for the best.” Rin said, looking from Y/N to Harry.

Y/N blinked. “You’re saying…?”

“That something will undoubtedly go down when Salvatore sees you two, yes.” Rin sighed, meeting Harry’s eyes. “Especially if he sees you.”

“Let him.” Harry said, taking a large sip of his drink.

“Why?” Rin frowned, clearly annoyed with men’s willingness to square up all the time. “So you can cause a scene?”

“So I can give the wanker what he deserves.”

“Harry.” It was Meo who spoke now, his voice much softer than it usually was. He wasn’t the confrontational type, Y/N had guessed that much, so when he suddenly spoke, it took both Harry and Rin by surprise. “Sal wants a reaction out of you.”

Harry breathed harshly through his nose, getting properly aggravated. “Then he finally gets what he wants from me for once.”

Sensing Harry’s racing heart and rising anger, Y/N placed her hand on his thigh. His warm, muscular thigh. Telling him she was there, that it was all going to be alright if he just calmed down. She noticed him closing his eyes for a second, his heavy breathing slowed. He glanced at Y/N for a second before looking back at Meo once he started talking again.

“Whatever happened between you two, know that Rin and I never wanted you to stop hanging out with us.” He explained, taking Harry by surprise it seemed. “We quite enjoyed your company; thought you were fun to hang out with. Got quite bummed out when you pushed us away.”

“Sal never told us what happened, and we don’t expect you to tell us either, but we want you to know that we miss you.” Rin smiled, telling him that she didn’t mean to come across harsh earlier, she just wanted what was best for him.

“It’s almost been a year now.” Meo reminded him.

Harry’s eyes fell to the table. “I don’t… I don’t want to force you to hang out with me.”

Meo smiled. “We befriended you for a reason.”

Harry smiled a little back, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Hearing a verbal confirmation that he could be friends with Meo and Rin without Salvatore getting in the way meant more to him than either of them would ever understand. “I didn’t want to make you choose, ‘cause I know you lot have been mates with Salvatore longer than me. So, If there was even a choice to begin with – which I didn’t want to know if there was -, I wanted to spare you lot the choosing so I just… isolated myself. I knew you’d choose him over me.”

“It’s not about who you’ve known longest,” Rin said, voice hard as to make Harry properly understand now. “It’s about who’s better for each of us to be around and who’s the least shitty person.”

Harry chuckled a little, taking another sip of his drink.

“I would’ve chosen you, just so you know.” Rin said, no shame in her voice or her straight back. Harry just looked at her, completely dumbfounded.

Meo sighed. “Don’t make it a choice, Rin.”

“Well, I just did.”

“Anyway,” Meo glanced back at Harry, shaking his head some. “Remember when we went to Lerici and we stole that old moped? Drove it till there was no more gas left?”

“And we ended up in the middle of nowhere trying to figure out how we were going to get back to Fosdinovo ‘cause we didn’t know where the fuck we were.”

The three of them laughed, grateful to be reminiscing back to a time all of them appreciated and liked looking back on. Y/N smiled at Harry, she very much enjoyed seeing Harry this at ease.

“You shouldn’t have driven that moped, Meo.” Harry said, giving him a pointed look.

“What?” Meo looked offended, making Rin howl. “Someone should’ve tackled me to the ground and told me not to.”

“Harry should’ve. You don’t stand a chance against a gymnast.” Rin said as Y/N took a sip of her drink.

Meo narrowed his eyes. “And you do?”

“I’m stronger than you.”

Meo didn’t even bother arguing with that.

Harry glanced at them both. “Neither of you can take me, let’s leave it at that.”

They laughed again, and Y/N was so happy to see the three of them back to how they had obviously been before everything had gone down a year ago. Slowly, she removed her hand from his thigh, he was busy having fun with his friends and she wanted him to have this moment to himself. This was what she had waited for for a long time; to see him smiling without being ashamed of it in anyway, talking amongst people he obviously liked the company of. If someone had told her the first week she arrived that this would be her on one of her last days in Italy, she would never have believed them.

Just as her fingers slipped off him, she felt Harry grip her hand, placing it back where it had first been. When she looked up at him again, their eyes met and all those very familiar and very warm butterflies began swarming around her stomach again. Just by sliding the tips of his nails against her palm, spreading her fingers and opening her hand fully for him, he intertwined their fingers so sensually, like he had to brace himself a little before he laid his skin completely against hers. She watched their hands as he did and when he held hers, each of his fingers between each of hers, she felt like whatever he was ever to go through, he’d want her there.

“Don’t.” He whispered so only Y/N could hear.

And then he looked back at Rin and Meo, re-joining the conversation. Y/N smiled a little, loving the feeling of being needed. She focused on the conversation as well. It was fun just being the four of them, talking and not caring about anything else. At some point, Rin saw someone she recognised, and so she left the little group, promising to be back in a minute. But she ended up not coming back, so the rest sat talking till Meo also thought he might mingle for a bit, leaving Y/N and Harry to themselves once again. Y/N watched as Meo approached a small group of older men, one of them his dad it seemed, and when she looked back at Harry, he was already staring at her. She cocked her head to the side.

“What?”

“I’m about to do something that might put us both at risk of embarrassment.”

She couldn’t help her giggle. “Oh no.”

“Dance with me.”

Y/N laughed, squeezing his hand that was still resting on his thigh. She held a hand to her eyes, watching as a smile spread out over Harry’s lips. Dimples showed and he suddenly looked very adorable, contrasting with the turtleneck and the navy blue velvet suit jacket that made him look very hot.

“Unless you don’t want to-“ Harry started, but he stopped himself when Y/N rose, dragging their joined hands off his thigh.

“If you’re ever in doubt, just know I’m always in the mood to embarrass myself. Drunk or not.”

He smiled at her, taking a few seconds to properly take her in before he got to his feet as well. The two walked to the middle of the square where a fair share of others were dancing as well. As they made their way over, The Greatest by Lana Del Rey started playing over the speakers. Harry’s wry smile broke into a proper one as he tugged at Y/N’s hand, bringing her to his chest. He guided her other hand to lay on his shoulder and placed his own on her hip. Together they started swaying to the music.

“I miss Long Beach and I miss you, babe. I miss dancing with you most of all.”

Y/N brought herself closer to Harry, wanting to be as close him as she could. While she was here, she wanted to be with him in every way, wanted to be so close to him so she could remember every single little detail about him. The freckles across his nose, cheeks, and upper lip, the little scar he had under his left eye, how silky smooth his hair was and how it always fell before his eyes. His little giggle and his broad shoulders; his soft skin and hard biceps and abs.

“Those nights were on fire, we couldn’t get higher.”

Harry pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he brought her closer to him. She let her eyes wander across his skin, taking in all of him now that she had a chance.

“We didn’t know that we had it all, but nobody warns you before the fall.”

With her thumb on the pulse on his wrist, she felt his heartbeat. Felt it direct all blood through his body, felt it quicken, felt it keep him alive. As he opened his eyes, glancing at her, she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears and feel Harry’s on her finger. He tightened his hold on her, she felt each of his fingers on her back.

“And I pray that you stay, don’t leave I just need a wake-up call.”

She felt his breath against her lips, heating up her entire body.

“I’m facing the greatest.”

He detached his forehead from hers, looking at her so intensely she felt like everything around them stopped existing. They were made of stardust, so who’s to say if their souls can’t be intertwined and make one incandescent body? She knew magic existed, felt it swimming in her veins and wrap itself around her heart when she was with Harry. Surely their bodies could merge and make a star; stay together forever like they were supposed to.

“The greatest loss of them all.”

Harry leaned down, eyes on Y/N’s lips to show her he wanted to kiss her. She cocked her head to match his, about to close her eyes and lose herself in Harry once again, but then a shout was heard and the two of them stopped dead. Y/N looked to her right to see the crowd parting, revealing an enraged Salvatore making his way toward them. Harry let go of Y/N instantly, standing in front of her to protect her from whatever was coming. She took a step to the side, wanting to see Salvatore as he came at them. He lifted his hands when he was close enough, bringing them up to Harry’s chest and pushing him hard.

“Che cazzo ci fai al mio matrimonio?”

Harry took a few steps back, telling Salvatore not to follow by holding a hand up. “I was invited.”

“Who invited you here?”

Harry nodded toward Marco. “Your father.”

For some reason, this shocked Y/N, but it also made a lot of sense. Of course Marco was Salvatore’s father. Salvatore got to leave work whenever he wanted, and got multiple days off whenever he wanted. Looking closely and realising they shared some mannerism, Y/N wondered how this hadn’t clicked earlier.

“Perché lo hai fatto?” Salvatore asked Marco, clearly so mad he could barely stand still.

“Ho solo invitato lui e Y/N, la sua musa.” Marco answered, not seeing anything wrong with that.

Salvatore formed his hands into fists before he looked back at Harry. “I need you to leave.”

“Alright, we will.” Harry nodded, and Y/N could instantly tell by the slow nodding he was doing that he was still tipsy, which might better explain what he said next in front of all the villagers of Fosdinovo. “But first I need you to apologise to Y/N.”

Y/N felt everything within her grow cold.

“Why?” Salvatore was frowning, glancing at Y/N before looking back at Harry.

“I think you know exactly why.”

A pair of heels broke the silence that had taken over the square, and Y/N realised they’d turned the music off. Carina approached them, looking absolutely magnificent in her wedding dress and Y/N wanted to tell her congratulations and well wishes, but stopped herself before she opened her mouth.

Carina stood a few steps behind Salvatore. “Salvatore-“

“-Harry, leave.”

Harry didn’t seem to flinch or draw back at Salvatore’s reply, it looked like he had expected a reply like that. He glanced over at Y/N, who gave him a little nod, telling him it was smart of them to leave before anything happened. She started walking backwards and Harry turned around, following. He didn’t take his eyes off her, shoulders moving with a heavy sigh as if to calm himself down.

“Leave Fosdinovo while you’re at it!” Salvatore yelled after them. “No one wants you here!”

This made Y/N stop, though Harry continued to walk, taking a light grip of her wrist as he passed her. But she didn’t care, she stood her ground, feeling the anger inside her grow to new heights. She didn’t think she had ever been this mad at anyone before.

“At some point you have to give up on being so bloody petty.” Y/N said, a few gasps could be heard from the crowd surrounding them. “There’s no need to hold a grudge against Harry, he can’t change who he is. However,” she took a few steps toward Salvatore, hearing Harry mumble her name, but she didn’t care about anything but to get back at the person who had caused both her and Harry pain. “You can change who you are. You can stop flirting with other people while you’re in a relationship with someone else, stop being petty and bitter, start forgiving people and moving the fuck on. You’re getting married, at least be a good husband to your wife if nothing else.”

Salvatore watched her, neither him nor Carina fully knowing what to say. By the look on Carina’s face, this was not something she wanted to hear at her wedding reception, but right in that moment, Y/N didn’t give much of a fuck.

“I don’t know why you flirted with me or why you even thought it was a good idea, but Carina deserves better than that. Change for her.”

Salvatore opened his mouth slowly, his rage visible on his face. “You thought the flirting was genuine?”

She couldn’t be arsed. She was about to turn around and walk away this time, but then Salvatore started talking again, making her stop abruptly.

“I would never flirt with a fat person.”

This caused people to gasp again and Y/N could hear Harry walking closer, could hear his heavy breathing and feel his entire being grow hotter with fury. Though Y/N hadn’t appreciated the comment, she found herself more repulsed by the person than the actual remark. Growing up, she had gotten so used to people throwing that word at her. Fat. Big. Large. Society associates these words with something negative, gives them a meaning that shouldn’t be; that isn’t supposed to be. You hear it when skinny girls call themselves fat, when they buy themselves something unhealthy to eat, when they buy a bigger size at the store. “I’m fat.” No, you’re not, Y/N would think, and if you were, what’s so bad about being fat? When did the word ‘fat’ get a negative meaning? And why are people afraid of being fat? Of being called fat? Of being associated with ‘fat’? It’s because we have been taught that fat equals ugly. Regardless of what you look like, regardless of your personality, regardless of all the good deeds you’ve ever done; if you’re fat, you’re immediately ugly.

But Y/N wasn’t ugly. She liked her face, liked her personality, liked herself. She loved that if she wiggled her arms fast enough, the fat on her arms would jiggle and it tickled, causing her to laugh. She loved the stretchmarks on her stomach and thighs and tits, because when she was younger and she’d seen her mum’s, she’d always thought her mum looked like a tigress, and now she was one herself. It had taken her a while to get here. Had taken her countless of nights of sleeping naked, and waking up naked as well, looking at herself in the mirror and just studying herself without judgement. It had taken endless walks through the streets of Maldon and London in clothes that showcased her curves instead of hiding them. It had taken years, but she was happy with her fat, big, large, colossal body. And no one, not Salvatore or any other hateful person, was allowed to ruin that. Eight words could never compare to the monumental amount of love she had for herself and everything she’d ever been through.

She gave him a little smile. “No, instead you tried making someone who is larger than you feel bad about themselves because you think being fat means I’m less than you, therefore you can walk all over me. That’s how insecure you are.” She shook her head. “At the end of the day, Salvatore, it’s not the amount of fat on my body that determines my worth or if I’m a good person or not. The good inside of me just takes up more space than it does to you. And thank God for that.”

Y/N was about to turn around and walk away this time, but Harry shot in front of her, on his way toward Salvatore. Quickly, people around her started talking, some even started making their way toward them to stop whatever was about to go down. Harry was about to raise his arm and give Salvatore a firm punch straight to the mouth, but he stopped himself. The whole square fell quiet for a few moments as Harry stood still, lowering his arm. He walked past Salvatore and to the gift table behind him.

“What the fuck…” He said, reaching for something Y/N couldn’t quite see until he’d picked it up and turned around. Harry looked up from the possession in his hand and around at everyone surrounding him. “Who?” he asked, but the town remained quiet. “Who did this?”

“Don’t touch our wedding gifts.” Salvatore said, about to walk toward Harry but when he gave Salvatore the most hateful and enraged look Y/N had ever seen on Harry’s face, he stopped.

Harry kept his eyes on Salvatore as he spoke the next words, making Y/N and everyone else gasp. “This is my painting. It was stolen from my house a few weeks ago.”

Y/N’s entire body went cold and she felt like she couldn’t move, the news had taken her so by surprise. The villagers talked amongst themselves, clearly trying to work out who could’ve given the newlyweds such a disgraceful present.

“Who stole my painting?! Who broke into my home and stole my painting?!” Harry yelled, holding the canvas up with one arm as to show it off to everyone. It was the back of a house. It was white, an elegant winter garden was depicted along with a colourful garden, forest surrounding all of it. The sky was a light blue, fitting the white of the house and the contrasting stark colours of the nature surrounding it. It was so beautiful Y/N almost lost her breath.

“Harry, calm down-“ It was Rin who had tried to break in, but Harry quickly shot down her attempt.

“-No, this person blackmailed me into giving them money or else they’d leak the entire collection I’m currently working on.”

This caused even more uproar and the crowd around seemed to be looking around and discussing as if they could figure out who was the brain behind the crime. Harry glanced over at Salvatore for the first time, pointing the canvas at him.

“Were you in on this, you inbred rat?”

“No! And don’t call me-“

“-Then the absolute brainless wanker who was, who wanted me to give them 800 000 euros in cash or else they’d ruin everything I’ve worked for and all my clients’ trust in me,” Harry looked around at everyone around him. “Can that person speak the fuck up so I can get them arrested?”

It all suddenly made so much sense now. Seeing Harry in that alleyway during her second week here, all those phone calls he made and had to take, Meo saying he’d seen him talk to the police. It was all for this. This had been going on this whole time. That must also have been a reason why he was so cold towards her, maybe he had suspected her at one point. She’d managed to get up into his loft after all, she knew where he kept all his paintings.

“Harry, you’re causing a scene.” Carina said, holding onto the skirt of her long wedding dress.

“Someone stole my painting and gave it to you as a wedding gift.” He said, narrowing his eyes at her as if he couldn’t possibly understand how she didn’t take this more seriously.

“No one would do that!” Salvatore yelled.

“Obviously someone would ‘cause someone did!”

“Don’t talk to me like that this is my wed-“

“-You know, you’re the only one who’s really fighting me on this, do you have something to hide, Salvatore?!”

“Are you accusing me of committing a crime-“

“-Stop.”

And everyone did. The square fell quiet as everyone looked at the person who had just spoken. As Y/N’s landed on them, she felt her heart sink and everything within her hurt. No no no, this couldn’t be true. She looked to Harry and then back at the person, afraid of what the painter’s reaction would be. Harry held the painting in one hand, resting it at his feet, his entire body almost slumping as he saw who had spoken.

“Gioele.” He said, voice sounding so small and taken off guard that it made everything within Y/N scream. Harry just looked shocked, distressed, and mostly he seemed heartbroken. “What…” He shook his head, not really knowing what to make of all of this. The two stared at each other for a while, waiting for the other to say something. Y/N didn’t know what to do. She wanted to help in some way, but she also knew Harry would want to do this by himself. “You… you did this?” When the old man didn’t answer, Harry continued, “Why?”

“It wasn’t hard.” Retorted the old man, not taking his eyes off Harry.

“That wasn’t an answer to the bloody question I asked, was it?” Harry said through gritted teeth, beginning to walk toward Gioele. Thankfully, Meo and Jamie ran forth, stopping Harry from getting any closer. Y/N hadn’t known Jamie would even show up to the wedding, she hadn’t seen them till now, but it was great to see them. They had clearly been invited and asked not to bring their client and best mate. Which would probably have been for the best. “Why did you do it?”

“You live in the house!” Gioele said, raising his voice.

“In what house?”

“The house I used to live in!” Gioele sounded furious now, and as he looked at Harry, it was so obvious he hated him that Y/N was surprised he’d managed to keep a mask on for so long. She would never have thought he hated Harry before. He seemed to have loved him. But it was a lie. “Where I proposed to my wife, where she gave birth to our children, where they grew up. That was our dream home.”

A woman walked over to Gioele, placing a hand on his shoulder as a sign of support, and Y/N could only assume this was his wife. Then Leonardo appeared as well, Gioele’s brother, and Y/N was immediately taken back to visiting his restaurant with Gioele and the nasty stare he had given her. He must’ve known her relationship to Harry and had to hate her.

“We could not afford to live there, so we moved out. Just as we were starting to save up more money, you show up.”

Y/N walked over to Harry now, standing beside Jamie who gave her a confused look, as if they couldn’t bloody believe this was true.

“You never lock your door.” Gioele said, and Y/N felt such a hatred for the old man after he said that, it made her entire body hurt.

“I trust people not to enter my house, we live in a small fucking village. Everyone knows everyone, everyone relies on everyone else.” Harry said, sounding so mad and hurt it was a wonder he hadn’t ran past Jamie and Meo. “I never locked my door ever since I came here.”

“You have so many paintings in your loft.” Gioele said, eyes flickering to Y/N before he looked back at Harry again. He meant the collection. Harry just stared at him.

“Gioele, did you steal any of my other paintings?” he asked, trying to contain his anger.

No answer.

Harry started making moves to walk toward Gioele, and Y/N could tell by his heavy breathing that he wasn’t about to give him a cuddly hug. “Se hai rubato qualcos’altro dalla collezione - Se ne hai rubato uno di Y/N io…”

“Cosa?”

For a few moments, the two just stared daggers at one another, both so mad that Y/N could basically see smoke leaving their nostrils and ears. She understood Harry wanting to hurt Gioele. He had trusted him; fully, completely, and rightfully so. Gioele had been his employee, and Harry had given him a job when he clearly did not have anything else. And the driver had just taken advantage of his position, of knowing when Harry was in his house and when he wasn’t, of driving him everywhere, becoming the least likely subject.

“Harry,” Meo said, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “I think it may be best if you leave.”

Harry didn’t look away from Gioele, not finished with him till he’d gotten his hands on him.

“I’ll contact the police and tell them Gioele stole your paintings, everyone here are witnesses. You go home and calm down.” Meo continued, trying to best to get Harry in a better mood. “Take your painting, take Y/N, and go home. I’ll update you on the situation.”

Harry nodded, taking a step away from Meo and Jamie. Jamie gave him a pat to the chest and a smile, neither which Harry could return with any kind of gratitude because he was so drained from this whole situation. Harry and Y/N’s eyes met. She just nodded in the direction of his house and Harry sighed heavily, following her on their way out of the square. Carefully, she took the painting from his hands, thinking he might want to walk without it. She didn’t look at it.

“Finalmente,” Salvatore suddenly exclaimed. “Possiamo tornare a festeggiare il matrimonio. Grazie a Dio non dovremmo vedere mai più nessuno di quei due-“

Harry disappeared from Y/N’s side, and before she knew it, she heard a grunt and someone falling. Turning around, she saw Salvatore on the ground, clutching the back of his head, and looking up at Harry like he was crazy.

“For once will you just shut the fuck up?” he said before he turned around walking toward Y/N and shaking his already red hand with a grimace on his face.

Salvatore wiped the blood from the corner of his lip, watching as the two of them walked off. The two didn’t exchange a single word as they made their way back to Harry’s, both thinking back to what had just happened. Y/N couldn’t get over Harry punching Salvatore, or that Gioele had stolen Harry’s painting, or that Harry had been blackmailed this whole time. It all made her head spin and she made a mental note to pour herself a glass of water when they reached the house.

Harry opened the door for her as they reached his house, slamming the door shut after and locking it. The house was so quiet compared to the festivities in the square, but compared to the rushed and blurry way back, it felt like a sort of safe haven. It was peaceful, empty, and the only sound was both of their breathing. She felt him watching her, eyes scanning her for any injuries or anything that would indicate distress. But she was completely fine. She was just mad on Harry’s behalf, infuriated that people had used him so.

He walked over to her, taking the canvas from her hands, and making his way toward the stairs, obviously on his way up to his loft.

“Harry-“

“-I can’t fucking believe this I just… I just can’t.” He said, taking two steps at a time up the stairs.

Y/N followed him. “What’s been going on? Did someone steal… your paintings?”

“Gioele.” Harry said, and Y/N could tell his jaw was tense as he spoke. “Gioele stole my paintings.”

“To get money from you?” she asked, looking overhead to see Harry had just reached the very top of the stairs.

“Yes.” Harry answered, raising his voice as he walked further into the room and away from Y/N, who was still making her way upstairs. “He’s been blackmailing me for weeks now.”

“If you didn’t give him 800 000 euros, he would leak your collection?” she reached the loft as well, suddenly thrown right back to that first time she had seen it. The walls were still white, two French windows and a glass door at the opposite end leading out to a balcony that she knew displayed the countryside surrounding the Fosdinovo mountain. Canvases were still lined up along the walls, there was not a blank one on the easel this time around though. There was no painting where she saw herself, which made her believe he kept those somewhere else now. Smart after what had been going on.

“Yes.” Harry put the painting down, hunching down before it to make sure there wasn’t a scratch on it or any changes done.

“And that painting was part of the collection?”

“Yes.” He ran a finger over it, trying to feel for any change.

“When did this happen?”

He straightened to a standing position, running both hands over his face before he turned around to face her again. “The week after you arrived. Someone stole one of my paintings while I was out on my own filling colours on one of the pieces for the collection. Had an interview with a detective so he could look into it and figure out who it could be.” He paused, furrowing his brows before he looked away from her. “We thought it might’ve been you at first.”

Y/N nodded and her calmness took Harry by surprise, he quickly glanced back at her. “I understand why you’d think that.”

He let out a breath. “Okay. Wicked.”

“But… can you tell me what specifically made you suspect me?”

He looked at her for a bit before he said, “We didn’t have a good tone. Thought you might want to fuck around.”

She let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, I know.” Harry smiled, eyes running over her body. “My suspicions were debunked when you said you were a veterinarian. Especially when you took care of Viola.”

“Why?”

“You take care of people. You care about others.” He said simply, like it didn’t need more explanation than that.

She just looked at him, sensing there was more. Harry licked his bottom lip, biting into it before he let out an almost nervous chuckle.

“Also around then that I kinda…” he motioned with his hand. “When I started falling in love with you.”

She tried not to let it show how much that answer made her feel like she was floating, hoped he couldn’t tell how her chest ached a small bit as her heart reached out for his, wanting to tell him that she felt that way too. She was in love with him. In every way you could fall in love with another person, she was falling for Harry.

“Anyway,” Harry cleared his throat, bringing Y/N out of her yearning to be closer to him. “I met with the detective and we discussed. Told him two weeks in that you weren’t a suspect anymore, and that was that on that.”

Y/N nodded. “That’s why I saw you walking out of that kinda dodgy building and talking to someone in an alleyway.”

Harry frowned.

“Gioele showed me around town one of my first days, and we saw you talking to this guy in an alleyway. That must’ve been the detective.”

“Signor Palagi did a great job, but not good enough clearly.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, looking back on the painting. He was standing right in front of it so Y/N couldn’t get quite a good look at it.

“And we met Gioele’s brother and he acted all strange.” Y/N recalled, trying to think of everything she had seen and thought over the last few weeks. “He must’ve acted like that ‘cause he knew who I was and what Gioele was gonna do.”

“He acted like that because of what you represent.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. “Which is?”

“How I’m successful enough to hire someone to be my model. That I have enough money to live somewhere his brother can’t anymore.” Harry sighed, walking forward and leaning both hands against his paint-littered work bench. “You’re just another reminder that I’m somewhere he’s not.”

“Why would Gioele even do this?” Y/N groaned. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense. Get close to me so I won’t suspect him, blackmail me, I give him the money, and since I’m going on tour and moving away after my collection, I won’t see him again and he’ll get the house. He also doesn’t have loads of money, so giving them my painting was probably the only thing he could afford to do.” Harry studied the paint under his fingers, how it had permanently stained the wood. He seemed to have calmed down now, having talked it out with her, but she could still see his frustration in how he was picking at the paint that would never come off.

“Harry, I’m so…” he looked up at her and she sighed. “So sorry this happened to you.”

“Not your fault.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

There was no one in the streets of Fosdinovo that night, so it didn’t matter that Harry had kept his window open to let some air in, because the night was just as quiet outside as it was inside. But Y/N simply did not really care where she was – outside, inside, or floating through space –, as long as she was with Harry, she couldn’t care less about anything else. Most important part was that he was there.

“I don’t let anyone in my loft.” Harry said, shocking even himself when he said it.

Y/N wanted to look around then, study everything in more detail, but she also knew that Harry liked his stuff to be just his. So she didn’t take a peek. This was his, and she didn’t want to take that away from him.

“It’s my office, like to keep it ‘me’ only.”

Y/N just looked at him, sensing where this was going but not wanting to jump the gun.

“I don’t mind you being here.”

She giggled a little, pinching both her thumbs as to tell herself to keep it together. She was not to act giddy, or to get so flustered that Harry could tell she was getting shy. She wasn’t shy, but when Harry said stuff like that, he brought it out of her.

“Seems you don’t mind me as much as you used to.”

“Is it that obvious?”

She giggled again, and Harry joined in, watching her the entire time. He pushed away from the bench, kneading the knuckles on his right hand that Y/N could now see were starting to get red. Grimacing, Harry looked down at his hand.

“I need to forget about tonight. I… I don’t want to… So many people turned their backs on me.” Harry said, voice almost breaking.

“Not everyone.”

“But those that did were people I trusted.”

“Hey,” she walked closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true-“

“-You have so many other people in your life. Your sister, your nephew and niece, Jamie, Meo, Rin…” She trailed off and Harry looked up at her. “Me.”

Harry’s eye flicked to her lips for a split second before looking up into her eyes again. Her heart skipped a beat, always finding him so incredibly hot when he did that. Moving her hand from his arm and on top of his, Harry hissed, glancing down at it just as Y/N did.

“Should clean this up a bit. Touching Salvatore voluntarily is gonna give you an infection.”

Harry laughed, grinning up at her.

“Do you have some ice and cleaning solution?” Y/N asked, taking his swollen and red knuckles into her hand.

“Bathroom.”

“Lead the way.”

Harry walked past Y/N and down the stairs, walking into his bedroom and to the small ensuite bathroom. His bedroom was as minimalistic as the rest of his house. He had his queen-sized bed, white blinds over his windows, a wardrobe, and two nightstands, but that was it. For someone who was so such a good painter and so amazing with colours, he didn’t know the first thing about decorating.

She followed him into the small bathroom, taking the pads and cleaning solution from him. Applying some of it to the cotton, she took his hand and gently started to dab it along the cut he had. He must’ve somehow managed to hit Salvatore’s teeth. Harry hissed as the cleaning solution started working, frowning down at his hand.

“It’s not that bad.” Y/N said.

“Easy for you to say, you didn’t bloody punch someone.”

Y/N chuckled, investigating the cut some as to make sure it was clean enough. “You should get some ice on it, get some of the swelling away-“

He kissed her. Lips right on hers, heart pounding hard all the way out to his fingers. She gripped onto his collar right away, pad and cleaning solution falling to the floor, and she begged him not to stop this. Their lips widened, wanting to taste more of the other, to feel them wholly and truly there with them. Harry hummed into her, sending a vibration through her lips and tongue that tickled. He cupped her cheek with his injured hand, other hand squeezing her waist and pulling her toward him. There was no reason to hold back any longer. Next week, Y/N wouldn’t even be here and neither knew when, where, or if they’d ever see each other again.

This same thought seemed to hit Harry as he clung to her a little harder, breathing harshly against her cheek. Right then and there, they both wanted to make up for lost time. The time they had already lost to indecisive tendencies and confusion, and the time they would lose because of miles upon miles of separation and their unknown and unreachable destiny. They tugged at one another, stroked one another, gripped one another hard as to remind themselves and the other person that this was real. Y/N knew that it was now or never. Harry rarely spoke his mind, rarely took the first step, so she had to.

Lightly, she pushed him down on his bed, watching as he fell back onto his elbows. His eyes were wide open, scared to look away for even a second in case she somehow would disappear like a dream does when you wake up. Positioning both her knees on either side of him, Y/N sank down onto his lap and Harry instantly sat upright, placing his hands on either of her knees and gradually sliding them up her thigh, needing for her dress to be further up her body so he could see all of her. Their lips found each other again, hungry for more. She felt his hands on her bum, hot long fingers spread out over each her cheeks, feeling fantastic against her skin. He slid them under the hem of her knickers, getting a good grip on them before he squeezed her firmly, pulling her to him and moaning into her mouth. She rocked her hips slowly against him, causing both of their breathing to grow heavier and their hearts to pick up speed.

He fell backward onto the bed, dragging her with him. As he made impact with the mattress, lips not detaching, their foreheads bumped into one another.

“Shit.” Harry hissed, though it was quickly followed by laughter as he saw Y/N chuckling above him. “Gonna have a bloody bump there tomorrow, ain’t I?”

“Dunno,” she answered, readjusting her position and wiggling her hips against Harry’s, causing his lips to part as a shock went through him. “We’ll just have to see tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to.” He said, gripping her bum harder, forcing her to slide her core against his again. They both gasped. “I don’t want tomorrow, or a day after tomorrow, or after that. All I want is you, here, with me.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“It’s a day closer to all those other days when you won’t be. I don’t want tomorrow. I want you and time. But not tomorrow.” Harry watched her intently as he continued to push her hips, her eyes fluttering shut as her core arousal grew rapidly like his. “All those days till I see you next, it’ll be like waiting for sunrise. Waiting for that small hour when I get a glimpse of you and then you slip away from me again.”

“Harry.” Y/N panted, cupping his cheek gently before he turned them so he was on top. He leaned down, kissing her jawline.

“You’ll be gone.” He said between kisses, humming into her, and causing everything within her to vibrate with him.

“Harry, I’m here.” She said, though she felt the pain of her leaving in her chest already. “Look at me.”

He continued to leave pecks down her neck, her chest, breast.

“Harry,” she took a light grip of both his cheeks, lifting his head from her. “Look at me.”

He leaned his forehead against her chest, eyelashes fluttering against her skin as he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“Hey,” gently, she placed her index under his chin, gradually bringing his face up so they could look at one another. As their eyes met, she took his hand. “I’m here.” She gave his hand a squeeze before placing it on her breast. She felt his shaky his chin moving with a shaky breath. Slowly, she moved his hand down her front, making him feel all of her before he reached the place between her legs that had missed him so. All the while, they didn’t break eye contact. “I’m here.” She repeated as her knuckles brushed the bulge of his trousers.

He moved his arm so that his elbow rested by her head, hand stroking through her hair till he got to her scalp. There was such seduction in his movements as he ran his fingers over her covered up core, she wished to drown in it. Lust in his eyes, desire on his tongue, and an intense need for her in every single one of his calculated movements. She simply could not keep still as he ran his fingers over her sensitive spot, moaning for him not to stop; do it harder, faster. She wrapped her legs around him, and Harry stopped abruptly. Looking down on her, his eyes were wide.

“What?”

“Are you wearing bloody knee socks?”

The urge to laugh right in his face was huge, but she stopped herself. She stroked her legs up and down his back. “Obvious?”

He sat up on his knees, taking his suit jacket off and throwing it somewhere behind him. Biting her lip, Y/N watched as he dragged his jumper over his head, not taking his eyes off her as he exposed his delicious abs for her eyes only. She bent her knees more, bringing them further up so the knee socks were properly exposed to him. Faintly, she ran a few fingers down his front, loving how her fingers moved along with the soft and hard bumps of his torso. He placed both hands on each of her calves, sliding them up to her knees where he gave her a little squeeze.

“You’re keeping those on.”

“Oh?”

Harry slid his hands down the inside of her thighs, spreading them open further for him. Lowering himself into her, she felt him pressing hard against her and she gasped.

“You’re keeping those on.” He repeated as a raspy mumble against her open mouth, wet and swollen lips moving against hers.

He reached under her, searching for the zip of her dress. She let him; she liked seeing him and the feeling of him being so desperate to get her naked beneath him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, getting the zip stuck.

Giggling into his neck she felt Harry go a little limp, chuckling as well. He rested his forehead against her shoulder before giving it a tender peck.

“Turn around.” He mumbled.

“Hard when you’re between my legs like this. You’ll have to get off.”

“Hmm.” Harry hummed, stroking his hardness against her heat. “Won’t be long till I’m back, baby. Just gotta do something first.”

He got on his knees again, looking at Y/N as she rolled over to lay on her stomach. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as Harry crawled closer to her again, the zip finally properly exposed to him now. He puckered his lips, placing a soft kiss to her shoulder again as he took a grip of the zip. He pulled it down slowly, the top of his thumb sliding along her spine till he stopped at her lower back. Sliding his hands along her exposed back, he pushed the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall down on the bed. He kissed her shoulder blade, then slowly, tenderly leaving small pecks along her back, taking his time to make his way downward. From each one, Y/N felt a swarm of new butterflies enter her stomach, her entire body buzzing with the effect of what felt like thousands of butterflies. Good thing Harry’s hand was on her shoulder or else she was sure she would’ve flown away.

With some help, Harry got her dress off, tossing it behind him. He slid his hands up her body, and Y/N bit her lip, loving the feeling of his skin against hers. His soft painter hands; the long fingers that could create incredible pieces of art caressing her like she was more precious than anything he’d ever touched before. As he reached for her bra, unhooking it, she felt him against the back of her thigh and it immediately sent hot electricity down to the spot between her legs. She felt herself inhale sharply at the pressure of him against her, a warm wave of anticipation ran up her spine.

He pushed the bra off her, letting her throw it to the floor as he watched. She heard him take a big breath before he hooked two fingers round the hem of her knickers. He dragged them down, exposing her bare ass to him. Though he had eaten her out the night before and though it had been lovely to be close to each other like that, this was completely different. She was about to be completely exposed to him, wearing nothing but her white knee socks and his gaze.

She could feel his weight lifting off the bed before he said a raspy, “Turn around for me.”

And she did. She let her back hit the mattress, looking over at Harry as she laid there completely naked and all for him. Knees bent and pushed together so he’d see her knee socks, she cocked her head a little to the side, resting her hands by her hair. He slid his hands from over his lips and down his jaw, taking in all of her before him. She felt her cheeks heat up, not getting insecure, but rather loving how he was looking at her. It was like she could see the painting he was envisioning in his head as he looked at her, as if she could see him mix his colours and paint her. He was quick to get a condom before he came back to stand at the foot of the bed. Letting her eyes drop down his body, she saw his toned torso and the bulge of his trousers. The sight made her wriggle her hips a little, press her legs together, desperate for friction of any kind.

“Sei bellissima.”

Y/N just watched him, loving the sound of him unbuckling his belt. He pulled his boxers down along with his trousers, revealing himself to her. She bit her lip, unapologetically looking at his cock as he stood there looking right back at her. Carefully, he placed a hand on each her knees, spreading her legs open for him. She let him, her entire being buzzing with all kinds of different feelings.

Anticipation, lust, love. There had never been a time before this where she had wanted someone as much as she wanted Harry, and by the hunger she had tasted on his lips earlier and what she could see and feel now, she thought the feeling might be mutual.

He lowered himself onto her and she could finally feel his erection against her wetness, making her gasp slightly.

“Mi lasci senza parole. Dimentico come si parla quando sono con te.”

“What?” she asked, a little breathless.

Harry stroked both hands over either of her cheeks. “You… I completely lose my ability to think clearly around you.”

Y/N huffed a little smiling up at him. She ran her hands up his back, forcing him to put more of his weight on her so she could feel more of him. Their lips connected again, having missed the time they had spent not entwined like this. As their tongues found one another again, desperate and lustful, Harry ran a hand down her front. Caressing her breast, her soft tummy, her wide hips, before he reached for his cock. He stroked himself over her, wanting her to get a good feel of him, not wanting to overwhelm her in any way. She kissed him harder, moaning into him, and Harry took that as answer enough it seemed. He brought himself to her entrance, and slowly slid into her. She gasped as she felt him inside her, a pressure so heavenly consumed her, and she held onto him tighter.

He took a grip of her knee, bringing her leg up further as to spread her legs wider and to get better access. At this, she moaned, and his grip tightened. He started moving in and out of her at a steady pace, not too fast, but not too slow either. Their eyes locked, both suddenly realising what they were doing and what this would mean to their relationship. Y/N knew that whether she liked it or not, she always formed an emotional attachment to those she had sex with, and this one would undoubtedly be even more powerful than all the ones before it. Because it was Harry. And because she was falling in love with him. Because she knew she would never get over him if they had sex. And yet she couldn’t help herself.

She could already feel the climax building up between her thighs, having gone a while without sex. By the looks of it and the sound of Harry’s rapid breathing, she imagined Harry was in the same position. He held onto her knee as he rocked into her, their bodies colliding hard and loud. The sound of flesh against flesh, their heavy breathing, and the occasional moan was their entire universe for those few minutes.

Harry’s hand slid down Y/N’s thigh, giving her bum a firm squeeze before he dragged it up her side and to her neck. He didn’t take his eyes off her, wanting to savour every second he had with her like this like she did with him. With a trembling hand, he brought his fingers to her cheek, caressing it so tenderly Y/N almost felt tears press on. There was so much love in the way he treated her, like he was afraid of loving her too much and then losing her. But it seemed he had stopped caring about that and rather give her everything while he could. He slid his thumb over her lip just as he thrust into her, causing her to moan. Over her bottom lip, slowly stroking his way to her upper as well. She gently poked her tongue out, licking his finger. She could see the colour of his eyes darken, could tell what she’d just done had gotten to him.

He slid his thumb into her mouth and she instantly wrapped her lips around him. A shaky breath left Harry’s lips as she swirled her tongue seductively around his finger. Completely entranced and turned on, Harry quickened his speed, eager to please her as well as he could. This had Y/N closing her eyes, moaning onto his finger. Harry slowly pulled his finger out of her mouth and in again, not able to help the moan that escaped him as he watched her suck his thumb.

She reached between them, needing clitoral stimulation in order to come hard and properly. Harry sensed what she was doing, though, and he quickly stopped her.

“No,” he said, and Y/N almost thought he was stopping her from touching herself. “Let me.”

He pulled his finger out of her mouth and slid his hand down her front, resting his hand over her centre. She gasped, realising just then how much she felt for him and that with everything he was doing, she found it a little harder to accept the fact she was leaving. He started flicking his finger over her bud, and Y/N’s body instantly heat up, the bubble of fire in her core threatening to burst at any moment.

She arched her back, feeling Harry’s free hand sink into her hair, tugging at her roots lightly. He fucked her harder, deeper, stroked his fingers over her clit faster. He buried his face in her neck, letting out a low growl that reverberated through every single one of her cells. She gripped his shoulders, gasping for air as everything grew hotter, hotter, hotter.

“Don’t stop.” She moaned, nails digging into his skin. “Harry, don’t stop.”

In response he kissed the nape of her neck, bringing his lips up to that spot right under her ear. She heard all his small whimpers, moans, and intakes of breath, felt them against her skin, felt them tattoo themselves onto her memory forever. Their bodies coming together, slamming into one another in erotic desperation to get closer to the high they were both seeking to reach together. Something happened between them as they worked toward their climax; like all that yearning, all that waiting, all those times Y/N had felt her soul, sells, and heart reaching for his, it all came together now. She felt every inch of her body content; felt whole in a way she’d never felt before. And looking into Harry’s eyes, she realised she’d found peace in him. She couldn’t remember feeling peaceful, like everything in the world was finally right, but she was now.

Her grip on him tightened as she got closer to the edge, the heat between her legs picking up at a rapid speed. He must’ve sensed her nearing her orgasm, because he let go of her hair and urged her hand free from gripping his shoulder. He pinned it above her head, sliding his up her forearm till he reached her hand, intertwining his fingers with her. Harry continued to fuck her at the same pace, and would sometimes draw a stroke out slowly and thrust back into her hard just so he could feel her thighs tighten around him, the material of her knee highs against his sides. As everything blurred together and she felt her orgasm coming on, her whimpers and moans grew more frequent, and it seemed just knowing he was pleasing her this well, brought him closer too.

He moaned her name into her ear, the grip on her hand tightening. Harry fell harder into her, got deeper as she slid her legs further up his back. Nothing else existed in those moment leading up to her orgasm. She felt her legs trembling. Felt his fingers on her clit and his cock between her legs. Felt her control dwindle.

“Harry.” She moaned, placing her hand at his neck, gripping him harder.

She came. Hot whips across her entire body, she felt like she was on fire. She was gasping, repeating his name, and moaning as pure ecstasy washed over her. She shook under him as he pressed his forehead against hers, watching her intently as she came down from everything. Just as she felt her heartbeat slowing some, she heard Harry’s gasp and moans intensifying, felt his movements halting. She reached down and took his hand, bringing it up above her head with the other one. He gripped her hands hard, whimpering and sweating onto her.

“Fuck.” He said, closing his eyes hard before he opened them again, wanting to look at her as he came. His thrusts were irregular, some harder than others, and she felt him spilling into the condom. She moved her hips with him, needing to help him through his orgasm. His neck vein was visible, and no sound left his mouth other than his harsh and quick intakes of breath. She found him hypnotising, so beautiful and so hot. A small furrow to his brows, eyes concentrated on her, plump and wet lips parted.

They stayed like that for a little while, just looking at one another as everything came back to them. She suddenly smiled up at him, letting a breathy chuckle leave her lips. He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. Drawn-out, lazy, and both smiling.

“I’ll get you something to get washed up with.” He said, slipping out of her before he shuffled down the bed, took the condom off, and walked to the ensuite bathroom. Y/N laid on her side, studying his back, his bum, and his muscular legs. She could not believe she’d just had sex with Harry. Mind-blowing, won’t-be-able-to-ever-get-over-this sex. Nothing would ever be the same now, she realised, they would always be linked in some way. They had been before this, she felt it, but sex always made this that much more complicated.

Harry came back with a wet cloth, handing it to her before laying down in bed beside her. He watched as she got herself cleaned up, studying her more intensely than he had ever done before. Placing the cloth on the nightstand, she laid back down in bed, looking over at Harry as he reached for her hand again. Still keeping eye contact, Harry brought it up to his lips pressing a kiss to her hand. Slowly, he turned it back around, closing his eyes as he kissed her palm. She rested her hand at his cheek, watching as he leaned into her touch.

“Please stay.” He whispered, and she did.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday 9th February 2020, 9PM GMT

a huge thanks to my lovely beta readers! 💙 @aileenacoustic 💙 @tpwkceline 💙 @emotionally-imbruised 💙 @shepherald 💙

#harry styles #harry styles x reader insert #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

565 notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid

Pairing: Klance: Keith Kogane/Lance Mcclain

Summary: Lance has lived a pretty simple life since being turned into a vampire. He’s got his house, his cat, and his two besties that have no idea he’s a vampire thanks to his awesome acting skills... He thought he was happy, that things were fine, that he wasn’t drawing too much attention to himself... and then he met Keith.Big, dumb, hot, emo, stupid Keith. Keith that went and flipped his life upside down, because, seriously, Keith really was a special kind of stupid.Vampire Lance x Vampire Hunter Keith

READ ON AO3

People sucked. People truly, madly, unequivocally, completely and totally sucked. That’s why Lance had brought his farmhouse outside a the tiny speck of a town barely found on most maps. He hadn’t lead a particularly long life, at least not when compared to others suffering from the same condition as he had, yet in his short time, he’d come to hate people. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t hate everyone. He had two best friends that meant the world to him, Pidge and Hunk. Both paranormal investigators, and both blind to his unusualness. No. What Lance held issue with was the continued hunting of his kind by the Vatican. His “ancestors” may have bathed in blood, and sacrificed virgins, all that kind of hooky-huha that one reads in scary stories, but before he’d been made a vampire, he liked to think he’d been a happy enough well liked kid, and he liked to think that even these days he still carried an air of that charm whenever he was forced from his home.

Garrison was a tiny town 50kms away from Platt City, founded during the Third World War, the city held plenty of ghostly secrets which had drawn both Hunk and Pidge to the area. Boasting a single Main Street, the highlights of the town were limited to tourist traps and three pubs on the Main Street. It was while studying at Platt University that he’d met both his best friends, twenty years his juniors, yet thanks to his unwanted immortality his body had stopped maturing roughly around the age of 18, making it easy to join the crowded university with a few falsified papers. His intention was to refresh his legal skills in order to keep up with the time’s. With the help of his Mami, he’d moved somewhere small and private, to a dead beat town that accepted weirdness as an everyday occurrence thanks to the tourists that came to see the ghosts of soldiers passed. When he’d been a kid, he’d always dreamed of being an astronaut, yet had chosen law to help those less fortunate in some kind of redemption for his condition. Being immortal meant keeping up with the times, though his house retained much of its old “Victorian” charm. Plus, with Platt being so close, it made for an easy drive up there every three weeks to pick up new blood bags. He was in no way a stereotypical vampire other than his need for blood. He wore glasses, because his eyesight was so good his mind couldn’t process everything he was seeing. This came with the unfortunate side effect of being clumsy as hell. He’d come from a Catholic family, meaning he believed in the presence of God. He’d also never drunk from a human, and never taken a human as pet or a lover like some did. When he wasn’t tagging along with Pidge and Hunk to ensure they didn’t accidentally summon something nasty, most of his time was devoted to providing low cost family legal advise.

Perhaps because he hadn’t been born a vampire, he’d retained many of his human ways. Sunlight didn’t turn him to ashes. Garlic gave him pretty bad stomach cramps and indigestion, which could be fobbed off with the excuse of an allergy. Silver gave him hives, again, something that could be passed off as an allergic reaction. He refused to harm animals for blood. He refused to bite another human, despite the fact a bite wouldn’t turn one anyway. They needed to be drinking his blood for that to happen, and after how he’d been turned, there was no way he’d ever do that to a mortal. He showed up in photographs, though his eyes always came out red instead of their usual bright blue. Mirrors weren’t exactly his friend, but not because he couldn’t see himself, instead because he hated seeing himself. They didn’t magically show his “vampire face”, instead they reminded him he’d never grow old. At the ripe age of 44 he looked 18. Even when he turned 100, he’d still look 18. It was thoroughly depressing. Unlike some vampires he didn’t have a coven, or a pack. His house only held him and his cat Blue, who he’d found as a tiny kitten under the steps leading up to the porch. She’s was black, fluffy, and an absolute princess in his eyes. Other than the general upkeep of his house, blood costs and the very occasional splurge on new clothes, most of the money he made went to spoiling his little princess. He wasn’t sure if Blue was part vampire, her teeth had always been sharp, as kitten he’d dug her out by the scruff of the neck, her tiny little teeth were far too cute as they buried themselves into his hand. She’d never acted like she was, but she also preferred to stay inside and had a personality that rivalled some of the most twisted “Queen” vamps he’d met. Then again, everyone knew cats were temperamental arseholes, so maybe Blue was simply being the snobby cow she was born to be.

All in all, Lance had nothing to complain about in his life. He was happy, content, safe in the knowledge no one about to ruin that anytime soon.

Pulling into the parking lot of their usual dive, Sal’s burgers wasn’t the most popular place in town, making it the perfect place to hang out. Located 10kms out of town on the road to Platt City, seemingly an inconvenience the locals, most of Sal’s customers came from tourists needing to stop because their kids needed the toilet. A few of the older locals had dedicated seats at the service bar, and maybe one or twice a week people spiced it up from their usual coffee shops on Main Street, but all in all, the lack of customers is what Lance loved about it. The whole place looked as if the 50’s had left it behind, from its pastel pink exterior to the cheesy green and silver breakfast stools at the c go heck board service bar. From his parking space he could already see Pidge and Hunk waiting for him in their usual booth. Hunk’s head thrown back as he laughed at something, probably at Pidge’s expense.

Cutting the engine, Lance grabbed up his wallet, phone, and gloves. He wasn’t exactly the warmest of people to begin with, but this freezing weather was likely to turn him into an undead popsicle. Already dressed in his favourite khaki jacket, Lance did a quick double check pat down before climbing out his battered blue four wheel drive. She was old, had one too many rust spots and didn’t like starting on days like today, but he’d had her since he’d graduated college the first time around. His Mami was always nagging at him to get rid of her, to use some of his money to buy something better, something that didn’t have roll down windows and a dodgy CD player. His first car was his first real taste of freedom after being turned. They’d been through a lot together, leaving him unable to say goodbye to her. That’d be like cutting him own arm off.

Sal gave him a wave as Lance walked in, the man was a teddy bear under his perpetual 5 o’clock shadow and greasy apron. His policy seemed to be that if someone couldn’t respect him like this, they weren’t worth his respect in return

“Hey’a there, Lance. Pull up a seat and I’ll bring your usual over”

“Thanks, Sal. You’re the best!”

Sal grumbled, Lance pretending he didn’t hear every low word about him. Bringing up that Sal secretly liked him well enough would only leave the old man flustered. For the sake of their “friendship”, he played along with Sal’s mumbling translating into how much of a pain he was. With a bounce in his step, Lance headed over to Pidge and Hunk, throwing himself into the booth as he wrapped his arms around Hunk

“Lance!”

“It’s soooo cold! Warm me up!”

Hunk hugged him back

“I’ve got you, bro! You’re freezing...”

“And you’re late. You were supposed to be here half an hour ago”

Lance sighed dramatically as he rolled his eyes at his favourite tech gremlin

“You know how she gets in cold weather”

“Who? There better not be anything and wrong with my Princess”

“Pidge, you should know by now that when Lance talks like that, he’s talking about his car... right?”

Lance grinned

“Of course I’m talking about my girl. And my Princess is perfectly happy. Blue was curled up under my blankets when I left”

Pidge pouted at him

“You could have brought her with you. I miss my Blue cuddles”

“You could try coming by the house. She was in a mood when I left”

Lance had a backpack carrier for her, but Blue would have frozen her perfect little toe beans out in the weather today. He’d left the heated blanket on a timer for her, unable to keep from spoiling his princess. Pidge’s hand left her laptop keyboard to grab her mug of coffee

“But your house is soooo far away. Anyway, we’re here to talk about work. I was on this forum last night, and someone swore they met a werewolf. Can you imagine? Hunk told me to stop scaring him”

Hunk... Hunk was the biggest ray of sunshine Lance had ever met. The poor man got every single form of motion sickness know, but that never once stopped him. He was terrified of ghost stories, not the best constitution to have when one is a ghost hunter... No, paranormal investigator. He’d been told there was a difference, but honestly it all sounded the same. People loved to think of the unknown, that world existing just out of their everyday mundane lives. Having been in that world for as long as he had been, Lance would happily pay for a boring mundane life

“I wasn’t scared... I’m... cautious”

Pidge clucked at Hunk, Hunk flipping her off. Laughing at him, Pidge wasn’t easily swayed

“You’re a chicken. What about you, Lance? Do you believe in werewolves?”

Werewolves were dicks. He’d bumped into a few over the years, and they’d done nothing to persuade him that they weren’t. The only thing they had going for them was their commitment to their mates and family, other than that, they were testosterone filled morons with claws.

“I don’t know... I feel like they’d all be too stupid to hide their existence”

“Wolves are incredibly smart... Fine, let’s put that one the back burner. Now, about work, there’s a group of tourists that want to come through the old hospital. The visitors centre in town gave me a call about it. Apparently they pay reeeeeeally well”

They’d have to. The old hospital was “cursed”. It’d been converted into a professional centre, but three years after the renovations they closed the building down thanks to the high number of injuries. If there were ghosts there, it was doubtful they’d care to bother with the employees. They all had their own issues. Lance held the opinion it was more a spate of psychosomatic symptoms resulting from the first accident. The building had been handed back over to the town, where it’d sat empty until it reopened as a military museum. With a bored sigh, Lance resigned himself to the fact that Pidge had already gone ahead and decided this was happening. Patting Hunk on the arm, the big man let him go

“When is this all supposed to be happening?”

Pidge’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Lance loved that about her. The top of her head barely came to his chin, but her pint sized stature didn’t stop her. She was always up for a laugh, and frightfully adapt with all things technology based. One of their first conversations came about because Lance had dropped his phone down the stairwell, smashing the screen as it bounced. Seeing her notice pinned up at the campuses cafe, he’d reached out to her with no idea they’d still be besties so many years later. From memory she had an older brother who was as much of a nerd as she was, while her mother and her father both worked in some private sector. He’d met them once over a family dinner Pidge dragged him to, seen them half a dozen times on their front steps as Pidge fled from their parental yelling, and finally been stuck in a very awkward conversation with Pidge’s father, Sam, when he’d found Bae-Bae, the missing family dog who Pidge had brought along on one of their ghost hunts

“Tonight. We’ve got permission to start once the museum shuts for the day. The tour starts at 8, so we’ll go in, set up, have something to eat, then scare the shit out of them at 8”

“You didn’t tell me it’s tonight!”

Poor Hunk. His poor heart had no time to come to terms with this. His worrying only made Pidge smile wider

“Relax, it’ll be fiiiine. Lance is coming with us. He’ll protect you from anything spooky”

“Why do I have to protect you? What are you going to do? Sue the ghosts for giving you the heebie-jeebies? Sorry, that’s not my specialty”

Pidge slid her glasses down to the tip of her nose as she puffed her chest out

“Ha, he, ho, I’m Lance and I have a fancy law degree! Those ghosts better think twice before looking at me”

Lance laughed way too hard, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes, his black frame glasses nearly falling off. Pidge pushing her glasses back into place as Sal brought over Lance’s pancakes and coffee. The man simply placing them down before backing away without a word

“Oh my god, Pidge. That was awful”

“It wasn’t that awful. So, Hunk, you’re in snacks for the night. Lance is in charge of driving, and I’m in charge of the tech. What are we forgetting?”

“That we value our lives and don’t really want to do this?”

Pidge sank lower in her seat, a soft thud coming as Hunk gasped in pain

“What was that for?!”

“Being a chicken”

“I’m not a chicken”

“Are too...”

Picking up his fork, Lance calmly cut in on their fight

“Children, don’t make me seperate the pair of you. Hunk, you’re big, brave, and very manly. Pidge, you’re so fucking short you couldn’t even covertly kick him under the table. If we’re going out, I need to stop by home on the way. Blue needs her wet food for the night, and no, she’s not coming tonight. It’s going to storm as it is”

Crossing her arms, Pidge slumped back in her seat

“You just want to keep my Princess all to yourself. Hunk can leave his car here and we’ll take yours”

“I thought my house was too far away to visit?”

“It’s not when you’re the one driving. Hurry up and finish your pancakes, I wanna go already”

Lance looked down at the forkful he’d been about to load in his mouth, purposely cutting the stack in half to annoy Pidge. Scoffing down Sal’s pancakes was an insult to the man who’d made cigarette ash in pancakes edible. The lack of hygiene may have been another reason why the locals stayed away, but when you’re immortal, standards kind of went out the window

“Laaaaance. Nooo. What are you doing?”

“Enjoying my breakfast. Order another coffee... actually, order some warm milk, I can see you practically vibrating from the amount of caffeine in our bloodstream”

“I’ll have you know that the level of blood in my caffeine stream is just fine. Plus, you’re like the only person in the world who enjoys Sal’s pancakes!”

“Oi! I heard that, Katie Holt!”

Pidge ducked down further in her seat at Sal’s voice. A couple of regulars laughing at her embarrassment, as Pidge blushed

“Now look what you’ve done”

“Not my problem, Pidgeroonie”

“Watch your back, I’m going to get you tonight, then steal away Blue”

Lance shrugged, unfazed by her threat. Tonight would be another lame arse tour under the belt, the most exciting thing they could expect was some jump scare.

#accidentally started a new fic #klance #bottom Lance #mpreg #voltron

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