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anxiousstark · 3 years

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The Aura Painter | DOB

Painter! Dylan x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 12K (12.057)

Warnings: Mentions of sexism, masturbation (mutual or solo), unprotected sex (this is a fic, be safe), cum play, breeding kink, filthy tbh, some cliché romance scenes. This is my second time writing ‘smut’. But this is the first time writing something so long and so filthy, bear with me.

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve had in mind for so long. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed imagining it. And of course, writing it. If you do, please give it some love and share it. The biggest solo piece I’ve ever written!

BIG MASTERLIST | KO-FI

Words you must know for the fic:

Onism (n.) the awarness of how little of the world you will experience.

Heriaeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you canot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning. the grief of lost places of your past.

Elysian (adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.

The droplets of rain fell against the glass, leaving a trail which I followed with my gaze. The glistening tear of water disappeared before I could place my finger against the window and imitate that I could command its movement.

The sky seemed to cry, turning a darker shade. Perhaps the sky had lost a lover or perhaps, the one they loved was far from its reach. I could not tell as I never experienced one of those stories.

The books I had to read as a child were those who would teach me how to act and think. But those I read on the confines of my room when everyone was sleeping were different. Those told the story of a beautiful lady who wished to be rescued by a gentleman. I would try not to squeal under my blanket, as that was something, a lady of a high position should not do.

I glanced at the sky again as it screamed, lightly swaying the trees outside while his droplets of tears wetted everything under itself.

"M'lady," I corrected my form, trying to look as straight as possible. Turning around, I glimpsed directly into a pair of green eyes that seemed to lose their brightness as the seasons passed. Those eyes used to be the brightest ones in this palace, but now they were almost colourless, decorated by a couple of wrinkles. "Your mother is asking for your presence at her table."

That was unusual. My mother was a sophisticated distant woman who liked to spend time on her own. Hence, she tried to escape from her responsibilities as a Queen while having breakfast by herself. She would relax outside in the gardens. A small white table filled with her preferred meals, and even if she sought to convince herself, and lie to me about her drink being just a mere juice, everyone knew it wasn't.

"Tell me, Harold," While walking through the corridors of the palace, I noticed once again the monotony. The clicking of my heels appeared to be the only sound, except the melody of the rain falling against hard surfaces. "Did the Queen seem mad?"

Harold tried not to chuckle, knowing that if my parents or any of my siblings were near, he would end up getting struck by executing such a natural gesture. "I must say that the Queen did not ask for the cello man to accompany her this morning with some music."

I gasped, glancing at him to discern if he was teasing me. Harold had been in our family for so many years. I dare to say that he was in this palace before anyone else.

"She must be quite mad, then." I bit my lower lip, trying to think what of the things I have done could have gotten her mad, and how she had discovered them. "Perhaps she found the romance novels hidden in my room?" I muttered to myself.

"M'lady," Harold opened the door to the great hall. "She preferred to eat her breakfast in here as it is raining cats and dogs outside." He whispered, letting me walk in first. I silently nodded my head, wandering closer to my mother, who was sitting on the farthest place even though she was on her own. "My Queen. The young Lady has arrived. If my services are required, I will be waiting outside to escort the young Lady back to her room."

I shivered as soon as Harold left the room, wishing he could have stayed with me. But of course, he did not deserve the wrath of my mother. While walking closer to her, my clicking heels seemed to resemble the countdown of a bomb that would explode shortly.

"Take a seat, my darling," She demanded as soon as I was close to her. I swallowed, swiftly grabbing the skirts of my dress. I sat down on the white chair in front of her. She coughed. "Someone quite similar to the young Lady of the palace has been seen on the street market." A newspaper was placed on top of the table, facing me.

I swallowed one more time. "Must be someone who resembles me." I attempted to sound confident. "I am afraid that happened on Friday, and I take piano, courtesy and manner classes that day."

"Tell me, darling," She faked a smile. Her dark brown eyes, studying my position and expressions. "May I ask how you knew this happened on Friday as the article does not say something like that?"

"I-." Her stare became even more intimidating. "Guessed?" I squinted my eyes, perceiving that she would raise her voice to inhuman levels.

"Nor did you only skip your classes, you also lied and went outside on your own." Her tone was sharp. "Hideous things could have happened to you. Do you know what this could mean to your brother's throne?" Of course, this was about my dear brother. "The sister of the future King of Onism does not follow the rules of the palace. Then, what should they expect from their new King?"

"I did not do anything inappropriate, mother." I sighed, shifting my gaze to look at her directly. "I did not get in trouble, and as you can perceive, I am all right."

She rolled her eyes, which surprised me as she always claimed for that gesture not being refined. "And books," She pointed to one of the chairs, where I noticed all my favourite romance novels resting upon it. She had found them.

"May at least have some privacy in the confines of my bedroom?" I was mad, but raising my voice to her would get me in even more trouble. "Those," I referred to the pile of books that were my most precious property. "Those are mine."

"Not anymore," She got up, grabbing one of them and examining the title. "Romance novels? When will you understand that nothing like this happens in real life?"

I felt a little strength going through my body. "That book, in particular, describes the love story of the author! It is a romance that happened to her in real life. It is not fiction."

"But that woman was not a princess, was she?" I shook my head as she waited for my answer. "However, you are one. Even if you do not have anything to do with the future throne of Onism, your brother does, and you must behave like a princess." She walked closer to the fireplace. My eyes widened, and I gasped loudly. "You are a woman and a princess. The only thing you must worry about is making your future husband happy while following his rules, even if you do not love him." She opened the book, her skinny finger ripping some of the pages, and in the process, shattering my heart. "You will get married to someone you do not love, just to unite two countries." She let the book slip from her fingers. Falling to the fire, and burning as much as my eyes were burning due to the tears. "Stop filling your head with stories that will never happen to you. You are dismissed."

I got up from the chair, slightly glancing at the pile of books. I knew they would end up in the fireplace, slowly burning. I bowed my head. "I apologize, mother." She made a gesture with her hand, instructing me to leave the great hall.

My head was down as I walked to the door, wishing to exit the room and rant to Harold. "Wait," The voice of my mother interrupted my walk. "Get prepared as in two hours a man will come to paint a portrait of you. We will send the portraits to different future Kings of other countries that have shown interest in courting you."

"Yes, mother." I could not argue.

As I came out of the room, I noticed Harold's gaze fixed on me. I shook my head, letting him accompany me to my chambers. While walking through the long corridors, I glanced outside the windows. I reminded myself that I would never dance under the rain with someone while we laugh and kiss. I will never be caressed with love. I will only be touched with the purpose of bringing an heir to someone. An heir that would have to live the same dull life as me.

Going inside my bedroom, Harold bowed his head while he walked away. However, three ladies that worked in the palace entered my room, ready to assist me. I could not even take a bath on my own, nor could I dress by myself as the three of them did it for me.

"The painter will be here soon, ma'am," Rosetta informed, deciding to stay in the room as a lady should not be alone in a room with a man who is not her beloved husband. "He is a painter from town, said to have a gift."

"Is he quite known?" I asked to continue the conversation as I did not want to be rude. Nonetheless, the image of my books burning was the only thing in my mind.

"He is known in town for doing amazing portraits in exchange for food and a place to live." My curiosity peaked at the comment. "Royals are quite interested in getting their portraits done by him. Though, he had denied their offers." I looked at her with confusion. "He does not want to be related to any royalty member." I nodded my head, understanding why he did not want that.

There were two knocks on the door, indicating that the painter was here. I was quite surprised as my mother wanted the portrait to be painted in my private chambers. "Please, come inside."

When the door opened, a tall man came inside. He was probably around 5' 10". Wide shoulders that were covered by dark brown clothes. It seemed to be his best attire. Even though you could see the cheap fabric, and how he had tried to cover some holes and get rid of some stains. He had tried to gel his hair back. At first, I thought his hair was black until a streak of light fell on him, and I discerned it was a little lighter than that.

His light brown eyes fell on me, and studying them in-depth, I noticed that they resembled to be hazel. He bowed his head. "Uhm, it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I am here to-."

I offered him a smile. "Welcome to the palace," I bowed my head a little, which seemed to surprise him. "Please, do not call me Princess. It is fine to call me Lady." I gestured to one of the chairs in my room. "Please take a seat. It must have been a bumpy ride to the palace."

While sitting down, he nodded his head. There was a big black binder between his hands. Noticing my gaze on it, he quickly opened it, showing different canvas. "I can make different types of portraits. I thought I should bring some examples for the Pri-, Lady to choose the one she fancies the most." He stretched his arm, providing his drawings for me to look at them.

"May I ask for your name, sir?" My eyes focused on his drawings, understanding why everyone wanted to get their portrait done by the young man.

"My family name is O'Brien, while my name is Dylan, my Lady."

I nodded my head while still focused on his magnificent paintings. However, one in particular seemed to grab my full attention. It was the portrait of an elder, who appeared to be looking deep into me. He was skinny, and by his clothes, I could tell he was poor. He was sitting on a chair, and I almost gasped when I discerned that he had a missing leg. His expression was warm, a gorgeous smile decorating his face. Though, you could see that he had missing teeth.

"Did you find any equivalent style to what you desire?" His soft voice snapped me from my thoughts.

"May I ask?" I turned the portrait around, giving it back. His eyes examined the elder he had drawn. "Why is he smiling, but there are shadows around him?" I had noticed that the elder was smiling. However, black and grey adumbrations were around his figure. Some resembled horrible monsters. Especially a grey shadow that resembled a demon, resting upon his head.

He chuckled. "Those are the ones people in town ask the most." He glanced at me. "I draw their exterior as they want other people to see them. But then, around them, I draw what I can perceive or what I learnt about them." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Sadly, this man passed away a couple of weeks ago due to a cold." He licked his bottom lip. "He had offered me a home for a couple of days, and of course, he had proposed food in exchange for a portrait. Those days, I learnt many things while listening to his stories. I noticed that the man was attempting to look happy for his sick wife, whom he loved with his entire soul."

I fidgeted on my seat. "What happened, then?" I curiously asked, making him grin.

"He was not happy. He was afraid of losing the love of his life because death had knocked a couple of times on their door." He glanced at the painting. "Their children had married to people in higher positions, ignoring the elderly couple and not helping them with medicines. He was 87 years old, working in the town market. He was selling vegetables that he was cultivating by himself." He decided to continue as he saw that I was expectant of knowing more. "He never lost the smile for anyone, even if people did not treat him right. And of course, when arriving at his house, he would maintain the smile for his wife."

"Then," I tried to hide my teary eyes. "Those dark shadows..."

"Those are the monsters he tried to hide, but that I got to meet. The fear of losing his wife, the frightening feeling of wanting to end his own life, the fear of not having money to pay for his wife medicines, and so much more."

"And what happened to them?" Rosetta coughed, indicating me to fix my posture, and I quickly did, which made him furrow his eyebrows.

"As I said, one of his biggest fears was that they did not have enough money to pay for his wife's medicines." He peeped at the ground for mere seconds. "She died in her sleep. Her body could not hold the pain anymore, and she faded away."

"What about the old man?"

He nodded his head, his gaze shifting to the portrait. "He passed away in his sleep too. There was a smile in his face."

I blinked, affected by the grievous story of those who had to fight to survive. "I want one of those!" Both Rosetta and Dylan looked at me with surprised expressions decorating their faces. "I would like one of those portraits."

"My Lady, I'm sorry to intervene on matters that I should not. But I do not think the Queen will like such a portrait to be sent to those who are interested in courting you." She was right.

"She will not look at the portrait. Harold will be the one sending them." I affirmed, knowing that my mother would not dirty her hands for anything.

"It could get the young man in trouble, my Lady."

I glance at the man, who was looking at Rosetta until his eyes met mine. "Yes," I smiled, even though I was upset. "You are right. Then," I studied a portrait, a simple one. "I would like this one." Dylan nodded his head.

"It would take a couple of days to finish it. But I will be staying in the palace for the time being." He informed. "Is there any time of the day where you prefer to spend your time just standing in front of me?" He blushed a little. "Just for the portrait, of course."

"Tuesdays and Fridays I must spend receiving 'Lady classes'. The rest of the days and hours, I will be in here." I sighed, offering him another smile. "Did they give you directions for the room where you will stay?" Nodding his head, he showed me a piece of paper with some important directions to places of the palace that he could visit. "Your bedroom is at the end of this corridor. You are lucky as it is empty, except for me and Harold's room." Of course, he had met Harold already. "I must warn you not to leave your room after 11 pm as there are guards everywhere." I got up from my chair. "Rosetta," I pointed at her. "She will bring every meal to your room. Do not hesitate if you need to ask them something. There are a bathroom and a study in your chambers."

Before he could answer, the door of my chambers opened. A broad man stumbled in with decisive steps, and fury adorning his face. I gulped, stepping back before I could hold myself.

The man threw a newspaper at me, hitting my chest. Glancing at the floor, I witnessed the same newspaper my mother had been holding a couple of minutes ago. "Again?" His voice was sharp. "Did you escape again to buy those stupid books?" I shook my head. "Oh, yes, you did. Mother told me." His boots sounded like thunders as he walked closer. "I do not desire to hear any rumour of how my sister is not acting like a lady." My brother Evans glared at me. "If my future in the throne is affected by your stupid imagination and ambitions, I swear I will do whatever I must do for you to learn your lesson."

"I am s-."

"Do not you dare speak back to me!" He screamed. His gaze shifted to Dylan, who was standing too, eyes widened and what seemed anger decorating his face. "Are you the painter?" He nodded his head. "Try to make her attractive in the portrait. Hopefully, some rich soon-to-be King from another country will want to marry her." He peered at me. "Luckily, he will know when a woman needs a genuine beating to act like a lady or a wife." Those were his final words as he left the room. I finally could breathe.

"Uhm," My legs shook, and I attempted to hide it. "As I said before if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, my Lady." He got up from his chair, clutching his paintings. "Is it all right to start with the portrait tomorrow morning?" I nodded my head, wishing him goodnight as he left my bedroom.

"Rosetta," Her hands were behind her back, respectfully. "Tell Harold that I demanded not to be disturbed tonight. Not even for dinner." She nodded her head, bowing and leaving me on my own.

I sighed, wandering closer to a full-body mirror that decorated one of my walls. The moment I feared the most was getting closer. I would marry someone whom I do not love. I would marry someone whose eyes would not hold back from gawking at other women. And with those thoughts in mind, I went to sleep.

The following day, I decided to have breakfast and lunch in my chambers, not wanting to face my mother or my older brother. I had convinced Harold to stay outside my room, wanting to be on my own with Dylan. I thought that I would feel more comfortable if I didn't have someone constantly checking my posture or warning me of what should not say. Moreover, I also believed that a painter needed his privacy to reflect his art on a canvas.

I was stunned toward the bright day outside. Looking out of the window, I saw my little siblings running around the garden as some servants followed them. They were probably making their job even more complicated. Alexander and Victoria were quite the troublemakers. However, I was thrilled for them as they would not have to follow such strict indications, as to the ones I had to obey.

"Are those your siblings, my Lady?" Scared by the prompt presence, I turned around. Dylan was standing there, holding a big canvas and a briefcase, which I assumed held his painting materials. "I apologize if I alarmed you. Harold permitted me to come inside."

I nodded my head. "Yes, they are twins." I offered him a smile as he grabbed a chair, placing it in front of me. I discerned that my back was resting against the wall, and I quickly moved to stand straight. "Oh, please, no." He extended his arm. "Would it be okay for you to go back to that position? The light was caressing the right side of your face. There was a beautiful contrast." I swallowed, nodding my head while resting my back against the wall. I heard him chuckle. "Please, do not worry. It is okay for you to blink, breathe or swallow. It is also okay for you to do light movements."

"May I talk?"

"I am not great at holding conversations, but I will try my best, my Lady." He placed the blank canvas on the easel. His hands worked fast while taking out his painting material from the briefcase. "If it is not rude," He swallowed, probably questioning himself if it was okay to continue speaking. "I have noticed some books lying under the bed," I glance at my bed. Noticing that some books could be seen, which meant he was good at observing and that I did not hide my books correctly. "What books do you read?"

"Well," I gulped. "I read books about manners a lady should have in front of males and for the table. I study geography too as I must know the rest of countries for future alliances, and-."

"I apologize, my Lady." He wetted his brush. "Perhaps I formed the question wrongly. I wanted to know which books you enjoy."

My mouth opened as no one has ever asked me such a question. "You will think I am a typical young girl."

"Cannot think like that, my Lady." He mixed some colours. His painting brush, caressing the canvas delicately. "You are not a typical young girl. You are the Princess of Onism." Though those words shattered my heart, he was right. I would never be a 'normal' girl as my life was nothing like the one of an ordinary lady. "However," He continued. "When you paint someone, you get to comprehend them deeply. I believe I might discover that you are an ordinary human at heart. Something beautiful that would separate you from cold-hearted royalty." I was surprised by his words as people would not dare to talk of royalty like that.

I offered him a smile. "You might." He got distracted for a couple of seconds. His eyes navigated from the canvas to me, trying to retain my features and the folds of my clothes. "Romance." I was flustered. "I do truly enjoy romance."

"I presume something you will experience as soon as these portraits are sent."

I shook my head. "Something I presume I will never experience." His eyebrows furrowed once again. "Royalty men have the right to choose whom they will marry, even if they do not love them. Women will have to accept whomever their parents choose for her." My gaze shifted to the window for a couple of seconds. "It is my destiny."

He stopped painting for mere seconds, staring at me while slowly blinking. "Destiny can be changed." I shook my head. "It can," He nodded his head. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." He grinned. "That is something my father used to say."

"Used?"

"He passed away." He gritted his teeth. "He was a great painter too. Better than me." To my curious gaze, he decided to continue. "My mother left when I was a baby. She fell in love with a younger man, leaving my dad and me." He gulped. "Therefore, I would not dare to say that I have seen love as my mother left without looking back."

"H-Have you experience love, sir?"

"Please, call me Dylan, my Lady." There was a comfortable silence between us as he seemed to be concentrating on the portrait. "Not sure I did. Love is not what is shown in books. Nonetheless, I would like it to be like that."

"I cannot agree or disagree." I offered a sad smile, trying to hide my tears. "May we take a rest?"

He glanced at the clock hanging on my wall, nodding his head. "I apologize, time went by so fast." He cleaned and placed his paints inside his briefcase. "Good night, my Lady." I bowed back to him as he closed the door.

I waited for a couple of minutes, opening the door and seeing Rosetta waiting there. "Where is Harold?" I glance around, hoping to see the grey-haired man.

"He had to take care of some issues." She replied, looking nervous. "Do you need anything, my Lady?"

I quickly nodded my head. "I expect no dinner today, and I demand to be left alone." She furrowed her eyebrows, and before she could speak back, I stopped her. "I would like to take my nightly bath on my own, please." She nodded her head, walking away after wishing me a good night.

I closed the door of my chambers, quickly locking it as I rapidly walked into my bathroom, doing the same thing to the door. Walking closer to the bath, I turned on the faucet. I checked the temperature of the water until it was lukewarm.

I sighed as my hands went to my back, untying my dress. As the clothes fell to the ground in a surprisingly elegant manner, I appreciated not being forced to wear a corset. My legs shook as I placed one inside the water until I was sitting down.

I have read in books how a woman and a man would fall in love. A passion that they could not resist. An absolute passion that would make their hands wander through their bodies, wanting to feel each other as close as possible. I have read it so many times that I could lie to my head, making it think that I have experienced something like that.

I have read the way hands seem to burn on the skin, and how breathing becomes more arduous. And how after being pleasured, you need it over, and over again.

I sighed, feeling my nipples hardening, and I learnt they could do so even if the temperature was not cold. My left hand gripped the edge of the bathtub as the right hand rested on my chest. I decided it was time to move it, and closing my eyes, I left it to wander down while grazing my nipples.

When my fingers caressed my tummy, they seemed to become shy. Not used to the places they were descending. I have read books, but I have never experienced the feeling, which made me feel curious.

I tried to remember all the books. My fingers ended up placed on top of my bundle of nerves, and just the mere touch made me shiver from excitement. I slowly moved them in circles, adding more pressure, little by little. The temperature down there seemed to get warmer to the point where it burned. I could not avoid the need to move my fingers faster.

My left hand continued to grip the edge of the bathtub, but this time harder as my mouth opened and my vision became blurry. I felt this strange sensation. I felt like I was going to urinate inside the warm water, and even though I felt quite disgusted by the thought, I could not stop my fingers. They moved in circles, faster and adding much more pressure.

And it came. A rush of pleasure came over my body, and I could not hold back the moans escaping my mouth as I peeped down between my legs. My intimate parts turned red due to temperature and agitation. Then, I regarded the water near it, looking less transparent. So that was it. That is what a woman felt after pleasuring herself.

Curiosity invaded me even more, and I wanted to experience more further.

A couple of days had gone by, and the portrait was already looking amazingly good. I did not have any doubt of Dylan's talent as I have seen some of his works.

"Has anyone shown you around?" We had got a little closer as we spent many hours together for the portrait. He shook his head, taking off his dark green beret, and resting it on a nearer seat as he proceeded to mix some colours. "Would you like to see the gardens and the horses?"

His eyes widened. "Horses, my Lady?" I chuckled at his expression, nodding my head.

"Eight to be exact." His eyes widened even more. I remembered everything he had told me about himself, especially his love for horses. "We could take a rest. I feel dizzy from the smell of paint." He promptly nodded his head, halting and resting his brush on top of an antique plate stuffed with remains of paint.

Strolling through the gardens, I peered at him. He seemed content, having the chance to smell the fresh air mingled with the scent of the white roses that decorated our gardens. "White roses are your favourites." He had surprised me while retrieving such a simple, but a unique fact about me.

I nodded my head. "I prefer them over red roses. Those are overrated." He laughed, making my heart beat loudly. Dylan was an attractive man, and these past days I could not stop my body and my heart from reacting as soon as my gaze met his. "The stables are over there." I pointed to a couple of meters away from us. I extracted my arm as I felt something falling on it. "Oh, it seems like it will start drizzling." We walked faster to the stables, almost running as the rain appeared to fall swiftly upon our clothes. "You will adore Arden. He is my hor-." I was interrupted as I saw two bodies stirring frantically against each other. Their moans, invading the stables. "Wh-." A hand covered my mouth while another dragged me off the stables. Dylan and I ran under the rain, getting as far as possible from the horses' house.

Both of us gawked at each other in astonishment. "Maybe my eyes deceived me. However, I believe that was Harold?" He seemed as shocked as me.

"They did not trick you." I gulped. "May I add that woman was my mother?"

His eyes widened even more. "T-The Queen?" I nodded my head. "I am so sorry, my Lady."

"I am not angered by the fact she was committing adultery! I know my father is no saint." I gritted my teeth. "I am mad by the fact she lives a miserable life. In which she had to marry a man she does not love, and she wants to impose the same duty on me!" My hands reached my hair, fingers clutching it. "It is not fair for her to desire the same dull and cruel life for me!" Dylan kept quiet, allowing me to rant. "Why must not I experience falling in love with someone? I crave to be touched by adoring hands, not dirty ones that will not care about my desires and will expect for an heir to be conceived." I sighed. "I ache to live that romance until the day I die." I let my posture fall, whining. "Why cannot I be kissed by someone truly interested in me? Why cannot I be touched by someone who desi-."

My speech was interrupted as Dylan's hands rested on my cheeks. His lips were tightly pressed against mine. I have read how a kiss was mostly controlled by the fight of tongues, aspiring to be the dominant one. But this was just a simplistic kiss.

"Oh my-." His eyes widened as my mouth fell open. "I apologize for my behaviour. I do not know what came over my mind for me to-." My hands were now covering his cheeks as I bought him closer. My lips were awkwardly pressed against his. He separated from me, blinking dumbfoundedly. "Close your eyes." I did. "Open your mouth a little, my Lady." His thumb drew my lower lip downwards. As he got closer, I felt his tongue stroking my bottom lip.

My hands were pushed against his chest as I gripped his white shirt between my fingers. One of his hands had to wander to my lower back as my legs shook. His tongue was now grinding against mine, and not knowing what to do, I mimicked his actions. My mouth instinctively melted against his.

"You will be the death of me, my Lady." He held me closer. His right hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Literally."

The following day, I walked to the great hall, confident enough not to knock on the door before stepping inside. My mother seemed shocked to be interrupted by my presence, as she gripped the teacup tighter.

Harold wandered behind me, fear written all over his features as he had never seen me disrespecting my mother in such a way.

I gestured for the cello man to leave the room, which he quickly did, not even daring to glance at my mother. "How dare you to come inside in such a-."

"I will not get married." I interrupted her, something I have never done before. I had been informed by my brother that there was a powerful candidate for me to marry. A 52-year-old man. "I will not marry someone I do not love, and even less a 52-year-old King just for our countries to be at peace."

"You have no say on it."

"Mother, do you want me to live the same life as you?" I ventured to ask. "Do you want me to marry a man who will sleep with every servant or woman that crosses his way while my future children will have to suffer the consequences too? A boy that ought to follow the rules of a King until he becomes a tyrant. And a girl who ought to have to act as demanded. Merely for the young male of the family to be even more respected?"

"As I sai-."

"Will I be like you then, mother?" My lower lip trembled. "Will I be cold-hearted towards my children, towards my daughter? Will I have to submit her to the same shameful life as me?" I did not let Harold intervene. "Will I have to close my eyes to true love and consume my infatuation with the person I truly love in some dirty stable?" Both of them were shocked by my words. "You are preparing and forcing me to the life you both have. I do not want to hide from the public eye and keep the person I cherish a secret."

"If this is about that paint-."

"He has nothing to do with this." I did not appreciate the way she spoke about Dylan. "I have openly expressed my discomfort about marrying someone I do not love since I recollect. I understand romance books do not happen in real life. But love does, and marrying someone for my brother's throne is not love." I sighed. "It is not fair for us, women, to be treated like this while men are approached like that!"

She surprisingly glanced at me for a couple of seconds before her sober expression appeared once again. "Every King marries the women they choose. We cannot decide. Every King has bastard children." I had to remind myself that Alexander and Victoria were the children of one of our servants. "Even your brother is going to have a bastard child." I furrowed my eyebrows as it was the first time hearing that news. "Rosetta." A disgusted expression decorated my face.

"Well," I breathed deeply. "Destiny can be changed." I recited the same words Dylan had told me once. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." I glimpse at Harold. "I am tired of not being the sailor of my ship." I softened my voice. "Think about it, mother. I will do everything in my power to get out of here, even if it means dying in the process." For the first time in my life, my teary eyes were met with the glistening tears that invaded my mother's eyes. "I will be in my chambers. Please do not bother me at all."

When arriving to my bedroom, I did not expect to see Dylan waiting inside. I locked the door behind me as my eyes examined his entire body.

"Are you all right, my Lady?" He showed the briefcase he was squeezing between his fingers. "Rosetta told me to wait here for you. Since we could not continue with the portrait this morning, I assumed that perhaps, we could tonight."

"Let's escape together." My mouth seemed to move on its own. However, Dylan stared at me with complete confusion decorating his features.

"My Lady, I do not think I understand what you are trying to imply." He knew.

"I have told you before I do not plan on marrying someone whom I do not love." I walked to my bed, sitting down on the mattress. "It has been decided without letting me know that I will get married to the King of Hiraeth."

He glanced down at the floor for a couple of seconds to later shift his gaze on my direction. "Perhaps he is not only a noble because of his blood. Perhaps he is also noble at heart."

"It does not matter if he is noble at heart or not," I answered decisively. "He is a 52 year-old-man! And as I said before, someone I do not love!"

He sighed. "My Lady," Resting his briefcase on the floor, he pulled a chair to sit in front of me. Though, he maintained the distance. "If I am not wrong, you have never met this man before. You might end up fallin-."

"Do not dare to say that!" I got up from the bed, eyes flickering. "Please, do not be like the rest of those who live in this palace! The first time you came here, you told me I could change my fate." He swallowed, nodding his head. "That is what I am trying to do." My hands were squeezing the skirts of my dress. "Please."

"I cannot take you anywhere, my Lady. You are the Princess of Onism. Everyone in town knows the beauty you behold." He coughed while deeply looking into my eyes. "I do not know anyone that will keep the secret of you being in to-."

"You are not understanding me, Dylan." I tried to ignore the way his body shivered every time my tongue and lips worked together to create his name. "I know I told you that I have never experienced love." I bit my lower lip, taking a breath. "I only know what I have read in books." He nodded his head, waiting for me to continue. "But I understand my feelings. Even before the day we kissed under the rain, I was already attracted to you."

"Attraction is something that can be felt many-."

I stepped closer, making him glance up. "It was attraction, I admit." Both of my hands navigated towards my back. "But my heart beats madly, whenever you are near me, whenever I glance at you or when I think about you." He got up from his chair, slightly stepping back. "I am utterly sure that I am in love with a man who worries about me and my feelings. Someone who has been encouraging me and that has seen my fears."

"My Lady," He gulped. "I truly feel honoured to be inside your mind and heart. I will not lie as I do also feel the same towards you." When I moved closer, he prevented me. "But you are a Princess, and I am just a simple man who paints in exchange for food and a roof." He blinked fastly. "I cannot give you the life you might expect." He offered me a side-smile. "And of course, our relationship would not be approved by the King and Queen." His voice turned softer. "Neither by the soon-to-be King of Onism."

"I do not care!"

"But I do, my Lady." He breathed deeply. "I do not want you to live a life where people will insult and degrade you plainly because you married a penniless man, or because you did not obey the established rules of the members of the royalty."

"I already have that life, where I am discredited just because I am a woman." This time when I stepped closer, he did not back away. "I already have to follow settled rules for the sake of my brother." My hands were still behind my back, and I finally decided to let them untie. He did not notice yet. "But now I have found someone who makes me feel something I have never experienced before." I sighed. "What did you do to me, Dylan?" He opened his mouth. "My mind and heart are full of you, and they constantly demand my body to be filled by you too."

His neck and cheeks turned red as he seemed to have difficulties while swallowing his spit. His eyes shifted around the room, trying to decide what to do. "My Lady," He sighed in desperation. His hands travelling through his body while he clenched it and gritted his teeth. "I truly have been trying to hold back." His hands now grazed his face. "I have been trying to hide how in love I am with you as I am just someone who does not deserve you."

"You are the man who deserves me the most." The shoulders of my dress fell, displaying my bare skin. His eyes widened even more. "And you do not have to hold back anymore." Finally, the cloth fell onto the ground. "I have read so many things, but I have never thought of experiencing them." I felt embarrassed by revealing such a matter. "I could not hold my hands from exploring my body for the first time as your image was in my mind."

"You did?" I nodded my head. His eyes had never left mine, not even to peer at my underwear. A rush of confidence seemed to hasten through him as he walked to the door, securing it. "Show me." My expression must have confused him. "Show me how you did it."

It was my turn to gulp as I got on my mattress, lying down on my back. I was slightly sitting thanks to the pillow, which granted me to discern Dylan as he shuffled closer to the end of the bed.

My bralette was already off, but his eyes still fixed on mine. "You can look." As soon as those words came out of my mouth, his eyes glanced down at my chest. It seemed like he had complications breathing.

My hands gently travelled down, gripping the sides of my underwear and slowly bringing them down my legs. The chilly air was a contrast of temperature to my entire body. I shifted my legs to completely discard my panties, which ended up someplace on the ground.

I permitted my fingers to touch the bundle of nerves, suffering a chill through my body that reminded me of that time in the bathtub, or the following times where I could not restrain my needs. Rubbing on circles, my other hand went to my mouth, biting on it not to make any sound.

"That is how you did it?" I nodded my head. "Until you exploded?" Again, I acknowledged with my head. "My Lady. Has any man touch you in such a way?" Shaking my head, he offered me a smile. "May I be the first one to do so?" I nodded my head, which he did not seem to like. "Please, use your words."

"I do," I did not hesitate. "I do want to be touched by you, Dylan."

"I might die right now, my Lady." He wandered closer. His hands slowly discarded his dark blue beret. Then, his fingers rapidly unbuttoned his white shirt, which had some dark little stains due to his paintings. His body was fit, enough to make a woman drool. I must say, he seemed broader than what I have imagined. "Have you ever introduced your fingers inside?"

I shook my head.

I hear the sound of his shoes falling to the ground as he kneeled on the end of the bed. His right hand moved my left hand from my clit, leading it to his hair. "Hold on tight, my Lady." Not sure of his next actions, I shivered as his breath hit my heated core. His tongue peeked out from his mouth, gently grazing my centre.

I gripped his soft hair between my fingers, making his gaze shift to look deep into my eyes. His tongue lapped, adding pressure on my clit. I whined as his tender tongue left my core to slid down and up a couple of times, extending my wetness all over my intimate part.

I was utterly surprised when the tip of his tongue ended up inside me, and he seemed to noticed as he grounded it against my walls. His right hand slowly left my thigh, where his grip had been tough. "I will be gentle." His whispers were almost unnoticeable as my moans were louder, feeling one of his warm fingers getting coated by my juices as he introduced it, inside my vagina. "Does it feel good?" Without waiting for an answer, he started thrusting it. His lapping tongue and his thrusting finger, producing a drooling combination.

"Oh my god," The candles that were lit, and resting on the table next to my bed seemed to flatter by a scene hotter than their flames. "Faster, please." I must not lie. Introducing his second finger on me had provided a slight pain. But seconds later, it had been replaced by an unbelievable pleasure. "Please do not make me beg."

"I would like to see you beg, my Lady." His mouth had left my clit, chin dripping with my fluids. "I would love to see you beg under the light of the candles while no one else knows that you are getting the love and passion you deserve." His fingers made a wet sound when they left my insides. I could not help but whine as he got farther from my body but became expectant when his fingers played with his belt.

As soon as he slid his pants down his legs, I could not help but moan again. There was a bulge between his legs, and I could not help but get flustered thinking about having him inside me. However, I was quite worried about his size as he already seemed thick through his pants.

I remembered a scene from a book where this girl had her first experience with her childhood friend. They had become lovers and decided to consume their love on top of the counter of the protagonist's kitchen. Her description of the scene was incredibly detailed. And even though my body had become more heated while reading it, I could not help but be worried when she described the experience as feeling as if she was getting 'ripped', which was quite vulgar but exciting in an unusual way.

I had been distracted by my thoughts, as to when I realized my rounds, Dylan's member was finally free. It stood tall and thick against his stomach. He could not help but contain his grin as I gasped.

"I never-."

"I know, my Lady." His hands grabbed my ankles, calmly making their way to my thighs, which he squeezed while separating my legs even more. "I am utterly happy to be the first and only man to make love to you." Uh? "I will take care of you for the rest of my life." His eyes looked deep into mine, asking for permission for his next movements and actions. Of course, I nodded.

He grabbed his shaft, his hand circling it while he thrust into his clenched fist a couple of times. He left if free, spitting on his hand to later grab his member again, lubricating it.

"I am a little scared," I confessed, shifting my gaze to his face. "You are so thick and long. H-How is that supposed to fit inside-."

"We can stop if you want, my Lady." One of his thumbs caressed one of my thighs. "There is no rush and enough time to do this whenever you feel ready."

"I do want to do it! I am just a little scared." I gulped, glancing down at his member. "Could you maybe go slowly?"

He nodded his head, getting closer and placing a peck on my lips. "Whatever you wish for, my Lady." Asking for permission again, he waited until it was granted, for the tip of his member to graze the lips of my vagina. "Here I go." He started adding pressure. Until the entire tip was inside, making me gasp. "Sh, breathe." His right hand went to my tummy, caressing it. "We can go slower."

I nodded my head as I took deep breaths, ignoring the tears that were falling from the corner of my eyes. A couple of minutes went by when I decided that the pain had become a pleasure. I shifted my hips toward Dylan. I was right as there was only pleasure. "Dylan, please," I whined. "Please move."

His entire member was inside me, and Dylan's thrusts had become steady and swift. His mouth was travelling from my jaw to my lips, sometimes stopping to ask for my well-being.

One of his hands left my hips, going between our bodies as he started circling my clit, adding more pleasure. "Oh my gosh," I raised my voice, not being able to hold back the incredible feeling. "Lord, please go faster." I circled my legs around his hips, bringing him closer if it was possible. His member, hitting places that it could not reach before. Wails of satisfaction came out of my mouth. "Please, fuck me harder."

He seemed quite shocked by my choice of words as his eyes widened. But he had seemed to enjoy them too, as his thrusts became even faster and sloppier. "I will not last long." He groaned, not afraid of expressing his pleasure while his lips grazed my ear. "I have been dreaming of this for so long." His moans made my entire body shiver. His right hand, circling my clit even faster. "Please, my Lady. Tell me you are close. Please."

"I am!" I drowned my screams while biting his shoulder. "I am so close." His left hand travelled to my left nipple, toying with it. The different stimulations, getting me dizzy while my vision became blurry. And I came undone under Dylan's body.

Reading was nothing like experiencing it.

My breath was laborious. Dylan stayed inside, thrusting a couple of times more until he quickly came out, thrusting in his clenched fist. He was going to finish soon. His eyes, questioning where to explode. My hands went to my breasts, holding them together.

Dylan's eyes widened as he understood what I was implying. He moved, his hips getting closer as his dick ended up being embraced by my breasts. I held them in place while he thrust, moaning at the contact. His tip, hitting my chin and lower lip. He did not last much longer, exploding and cumming all over my chin and lower lip.

He gasped, our bodies full of sweat. "I made a mess. I am so sorry, my L-." My tongue peeked out of my mouth, licking some of the cum that was resting on my lower lip. "I-. Oh, gosh." His lips settled up against mine. His tongue, parting my lips so his tongue could slowly dance against mine. "Did it feel good?"

"It felt amazing." I was still trying to breathe at a regular pace.

He kissed my forehead, leaving the bed and wandering to the bathroom. His member was still lightly hard. But he quickly gave me the view of his butt.

When he came back, he was gripping a towel. Sitting on the side of the bed, he slowly cleaned his release from my chin and chest. Then, folding it, he cleaned between my legs. He was cautious, trying not to hurt me as my entire body was sensitive. Next, he discarded the towel.

His body fell on the bed next to mine. We both gazed into each other's eyes with foolish smiles decorating our faces. "I do not want to leave. But night curfew will be soon."

"I do not care." I wrapped my sore body against him, breathing in. "Stay here. Nobody will know. You can leave early in the morning." I did not notice I was pouting until his lips pecked mine. Then, the rest of the night was a cuddling blur as exhaustion took over our bodies.

Another couple of days had gone by, and it was nearly impossible to keep our hands for ourselves. Dylan had been sleeping in my chambers, which was difficult to hide. I had been ignoring my mother and Harold as much as possible. And thankfully, my brother was away in a political meeting with my father. We had also continued the portrait sessions, which sometimes ended with our bodies full of paint as we could not hold back for holding each other.

I must confess that there had been sexual escapes around the palace, which was a surprise, as we did not get caught yet. Momentarily, Dylan's boxers were around his ankles like his pants as I was grabbing the skirts of my dress.

My face and chest were pressed against the wall of a tiny room while he thrust in me from behind. "Ah, we will get caught." He whispered but did not stop his movements. "You are going to be the death of me, my Lady."

We had been walking around the castle until I could not hold back myself anymore. I took Dylan's hand, going inside a tiny room that, it is used, for cleaning materials. Therefore, we were fucking as fast as we could, aiming for a release. "Please, go deeper!"

"I believe I am as immersed as I can, my Lady." The sound of our skin slapping against each other turned both of us on even more.

We both were close to our release. But we were rudely interrupted by the door of the room opening, showing Rosetta and Harold, who stared at us with surprise written all over their faces.

Dylan quickly came out of me, pulling his boxers and pants up while I let the skirts of my dress fall.

"Harold," I started. "Please, do not say anything." My eyes begged. "Could you please give us five minutes and wait in my chambers?" Without saying anything, they closed the door. "Oh my god."

"It is okay, my Lady." Fear was visible in his face and voice.

I was baffled as when entering my chambers, my mother was there, next to Harold. He ignored my gaze, staring deep into Dylan's eyes.

"Mother-."

"I told you!" She did not hesitate to raise her voice. "I know you did not choose to be a princess, but this is what we have to deal with." I could not protest. "I am not trying to make you miserable. I was trying to avoid a situation like this where this young man," Surprisingly, she did not glare at the young man next to me, who was squeezing my hand. "And you will be in danger!" She sighed. "Imagine if it was your father or brother finding you two! They arrived early this morning!" I did not know about their arrival. "He would have killed him and make you watch." I gasped, getting teary. "I did not want you guys to end as I did."

"What?" I asked while being overwhelmed by confusion.

"Your mother," Harold decided to spoke as my mother had to seat on the end of my bed, trying to calm herself. "She fell in love with a servant of this palace, way before you were born." Dylan and I were pretty interested in the story. "You do not choose who you love, my Lady." He shifted his gaze between the two of us. "However, keeping such a secret was complicated. And eventually, someone found out." His hand rested on my mother's back. "Unfortunately, the one that discovered them passionately kissing in the gardens was your father." I gulped while swaying closer to Dylan, searching for his warmth. "He executed him right there, in front of your mother."

"Those white roses used to be red." My mother's voice shook while she referred to those planted in our garden. "It was so repulsive to see that his blood mattered nothing when for me mattered the world. He was my world." She offered us a sad smile. "No one mourned for his loss except me. His body was taken away by other servants in uncaring behaviour. His blood could not be seen, because it had splattered on the flowers that had the same tone." She wept, trying to breathe and calm herself to continue. "It was as if he had never existed. I thought I had gone crazy, and I had imagined the love and the man that I desired to have."

"Mother," My eyes were teary. "I am so sorry that happened to you, and now, I understand you tried to protect me." I glimpsed at Harold for a couple of seconds. "But this is just throwing me into a deeper hole. I will end up in a similar situation to yours, and my children will be doomed, to the same cruel fate." I was desperate. "Mother, destiny can be changed." Dylan was looking at me, a tiny smile on his face while he rubbed one of my freezing hands.

"I have seen you grow up," Harold intervened. "I have learnt every one of your moves, understanding when you wanted to cry or laugh." He grinned, crossing his arms. "Deep inside, I knew one day you would want to fight from the established and dull life you are supposed to live."

"He spoke to me." My mother continued. "Harold opened my eyes, and he taught me to perceive that you were falling in love with this young man." She bowed at Dylan, and he returned the same gesture. "And I perceived that this young man was falling in love with you too."

"Your father and brother lied of their whereabouts." Harold stepped closer. "They bought with them a visitor."

My mother shifted closer to us. "It is the King of Hiraeth." She gulped. "The 52 year-old-man that they expect to marry you with."

"No," I shook my head. "Please, mother." I could not stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. "Please, mother. Do not let them do that. Please. Please." Before I could fall to my knees, my mother held her hand up, offering me a brown bag.

"It is yours now." My mother replied, sliding the bag into my hands. "This will help both of you." Money, there was a lot of gold inside the bag. Dylan was looking inside the container with wide eyes as I did. "If I had stolen money from your father, he would have noticed. Therefore, I bargained my jewellery." Her hand unconsciously went to her neck, and I noticed her diamond necklace missing.

"Here," Harold extended his arm, offering us a piece of paper. Dylan clutched it. It was a map. "That black circle is your shared property. It is a near kingdom, not too far from here but enough for you two to be safe and not be recognized, as the Princess of Onism."

"What?" My mouth was agape.

"It is Elysian. It is a small town full of life, and it is secure." Harold explained with a smile. "It is your new home. The money will help you guys for a couple of years, but of course, my Lady, you will have to get used to a life without servants and luxuries. However, I do not have any doubt that you will be able to adapt to such a life."

"Then," I glanced at my mother. "You are helping me escape?"

"I am helping both of you leave." She cried. "I am helping you get out of the life you did not choose and the one you do not desire." I turned around to stare at Dylan, who had tears running down his cheeks while smiling at me. He shyly pecked my forehead. He wiped his tears while bowing again, staying in that position for a couple of seconds. "No, no, please stand up." He did. "We are family now. Please take care of my little girl."

"I will, your highness." His words sounded so confident that it made my heart beat violently.

"W-What about you two?" I glanced between them. "Are you coming with us?" I was expectant to hear their answer.

My mother shook her head. "We did change our destiny." She referred to the present situation. "Do not worry about us."

"But-."

"My Lady," Harold took me into his arms, embracing me. "Escaping is more complex for us. But do not worry, because we will end up getting away from here. One day, we will." He smiled at me. "For now, Arden is prepared to take you both far from Onism tonight."

I nodded my head. "Take care of my mother, and thank you for being like a father to me." After squeezing him, I quickly hugged my mother. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Before they left my room, my mum turned around. "Dylan is your name, right?" He nodded his head. "I viewed the portrait. It looks marvellous. Take it with you." He was perplexed. "The portrait was for the man that will marry her. That man is you, so that portrait belongs to you."

"I bought gifts!" I overheard two squeals, rolling my eyes with a foolish smile, adorning my features. Two tiny figures ran to the owner of the voice. "Perhaps you both only love me when I bring presents."

"Perhaps they do." I walked closer to the man, whose beautiful smile was aimed, at me. My right hand gripped his arm, a signal for him to lower his head so I could peck his lips. "Welcome home. I made your favourite dish." My lips had trapped his bottom one between mines for a couple of seconds, making him whine lowly.

He seemed to be dumbfounded while pecking my lips a couple of times until our children interrupted the moment with their excitement to know what their father had brought them. "Well," He chuckled. "I bought my little princess this!" He took a stuffed animal from his coffee-coloured bag. Charlotte squealed and giggled while running around the room with her new plaything. "And I bought my not-so-little prince," He remembered how our little boy did not want to be named as a child anymore. "This." He showed him a new brand book, which cover was of a dark blue with golden touches.

Thomas could not help but grin. "This book was printed a couple of days ago! Thank you so much, father!" He tightly hugged his dad. "Perhaps I could bring it with me to the Addington's home?" He could not help but jump around due to his excitement. "I believe Newt will love it too!"

Dylan nodded his head. "Take care fo your sister, please."

The Addington's were a young family of five that lived next door. We were constantly inviting each other over to our homes, wanting the kids to play together. We, the adults, were also mates. A couple of times, we babysit each other's kids to have privacy with our respective partners.

As soon as the kids were out of the door, Dylan's briefcase had fallen to the ground. He had been away for an entire week due to a commission of a portrait where he would earn a lot of money.

His hands were caressing my entire body as we both tried to make our way to our shared chamber, in hopes of continuing the passion there. "I have missed you so much, my Princess."

My fingers moved quickly, trying to untie the dress I was wearing. My hands were sweaty, and Dylan must have noticed as he ended up unlacing my attire. "I am not a Princess anymore."

He swallowed, eyes focused on my breasts as I was not wearing a bralette. Both of his warm hands slid up, cupping my bosom. His fingers grazed my nipples while his entire hands squeezed the rest. "You are right." His gaze shifted to my lips. "You are the queen of my heart now, my Lady." That name had stayed since the very beginning, and every time it came rolling gently out of his lips, my undergarments got drenched.

"I will explode right here, Dylan." I moaned as my hands were busy sliding down his pants while he worked on his jacket and shirt. "I have missed having you around. And being around you."

He groaned, slipping one of his hands behind my back as he squeezed my buttocks. I whined when he pinched it. "You seem to be so desperate for me."

"That smirk," I grinned while kissing his bottom lip. "Perhaps you are as desperate as me." I glanced down as I spotted his hard bulge against my front.

"I am not as needy as you are, my Lady." The last word was said sensually, making my legs shake.

"I am sure you are as needy as me, Sir." It was that word for him. I could feel the temperature of his body rising.

"What does my queen require from such a humble servant?" He acted while sprawling my body down on the bed. His hands, gripping the sides of my panties, bringing the down and discarding them. "Maybe she needs help down here?" One of his fingers ran up and down, collecting my fluids. He did not hesitate to bring that finger into his mouth, savouring it. "My Lady, perhaps I should confess that you taste like Heaven, itself."

His face leaned closer to my core, but I immediately stopped him. He glimpsed at me, confused. "I want to be the one giving you as much pleasure as possible." Sitting down on the bed, my hands pushed against his chest until he was the one lying on his back.

I questioned myself when he had taken his boxers off as his member sprang free, hitting his tummy. Pre-cum was decorating his pink tip while sometimes, you could see it palpitating as the veins were tightening.

My right hand started working immediately, grabbing his shaft while going up and down. I softly squeezed it as his arm rested on top of his forehead, blissfully. My thumb stayed on the tip, playing with the tiny drops of pre-cum.

"Gosh, are you an angel?" His words wavered as my left hand cupped his balls, lightly tugging on them. "My Lady, I need your mouth, please." I attended his demands, my left hand still playing with his balls.

However, my mouth was also sucking on the lowest part of his member. Licking my way up, my mouth embraced the tip of his dick. His hands went through my hair, settling on grasping it forcefully and guiding me down until his entire thick member was inside my mouth.

His moans got louder as his hips could not hold back, shifting upwards, choking me as his tip scraped the back of my throat. "My Lady." Glancing upwards, I could see the sweat falling down his forehead. His entire body was sweating, especially the part of his chest with a spot of hair.

I sucked harder, preventing my teeth from grazing his delicate member. "May I come inside your mouth, my Lady?" Humming against his dick, he seemed to understand my permission. A couple of hard thrusts that chocked me and he was cumming down my throat, spilling a big load. His breath was laborious as his hands caressed my hair back. "Please, ride me."

He whined when his member lost the warmth of my mouth as I shifted my body to position myself on top of him. My left hand was resting against his chest. My other hand, grabbing his still firm member. "May I?" He nodded his head. As soon as he was filling me up, both of us became a moaning mess. "Ah, I felt so empty without your dick inside me."

His hands instantly clutched my hips as he encouraged me to bounce on top him. "You look so ravishing while you bounce on my dick." I moaned, loving his dirty talk. "I could do this every day. I love how your breasts bounce while you are getting stretched by my dick." He gulped. "They have got even bigger after you had our beautiful children." His right hand slapped my ass. "Listen," I ceased my moans as I heard the slapping sounds of our skins. "You are so wet for me, my Lady. Your pussy demands to hold my dick."

Both of my hands were now resting against his chest. "I am going to explode." The hand that was on my ass moved to the front, flicking my clitoris. "You fill me up so good, Sir!"

"I will fill you even more soon." He groaned, sitting down so he could move me closer to my body. Our mouths, touching in an open kiss. "I am going to release my entire load inside you. I am going to impregnate you, my Lady." I moaned. "You want that, right?" His thrusts became sloppier and harder. "You want to get filled and carry another gorgeous baby." I nodded my head. "You are as irresistible while pregnant. The way you cannot keep your hands to yourself. The way your bosom gets even bigger."

"Please, fill me."

No more words needed to be said as our teeth clattered against each other, riding our highs together. My vision got blurry, and my moans louder as I felt all of his huge load filling me up. "Oh, fuck me, my Lady. You take my load so good." The rest was full of kisses and warm under the sheets. His member had softened inside me.

On one of the walls of our chambers, there was a portrait of my younger self. She resembled grave and upset. Her composture seemed forced, but around her body, there were flames. Sparks that represented the passion she badly wanted to share. The adventures she wanted to live. There was a yellow light, which seemed, to be connected to her heart.

Dylan had described a young lady who aspired to live a passionate life. A young woman whose heart and mind were full of hope.

There was a lovely detail on the portrait. On the wall behind the young girl, there was a mirror, where you could perceive a young Dylan, examining the woman before him with a peculiar shining light on his eyes. The identical light young Y/N had while looking at Dylan O'Brien, the humble painter who shared the 'fictional' love she always wanted to experience.The love they both found and fancied.

Yes, destiny could be changed.

Those who asked to be tagged. Thank you for showing interest:

@og-baby-ob14 - @sweetest-serpent01 - @tovvaa - @jazminebrightxx - @sonnydoesrandomshit - @badgyal-barbie - @trustfundparker - @blueraindrops

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evelxtus · 3 years

Text

“Greensleeves.”

(Vampire!Zhongli x Witch!Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Angst, mention of death threats.

Type: one-shot, fantasy.

Words: 917.

Set in an older time.

Context: A witch has been searching for the love of her life for years, after thinking that he had abandoned her when his family found out what she was. Now she seeks to find him to declare her love and allow herself to be captured, waiting to be rejected by his love.

_I hope you like this idea. Asks are open for you, so leave a request if you want! Btw, song's name is Greensleeves. I changed the lyrics a little for the one-shot. Last but not least, THANK YOU FOR 130 FOLLOWERS. ILOVEYOUSOMUCH AAAA💞 I'M SO HAPPY, SO TAKE THIS GIFT FOR YOU._

The lights were blinding once you entered the palace. Luckily, you quickly got used to the change in lighting. Some couples danced to the sound of the orchestra, others enjoyed themselves at the banquet. All dressed neatly, all the suits were elegant and of various colors.

And what were you doing? Search. Just search.

He should be there, but among all those people, where exactly?

You were wearing a black mask that covered your eye area. It was well known that you were not received courteously there, but you had to find him, even if it was the last thing you did. You promised.

You approached the orchestra, camouflaging yourself among the people, although your black dress with gold trim was not overlooked.

"Let me sing a song." you asked one of the violinists when they finished their song. They looked at each suspiciously, but one of them finally extended his hand, indicating where to stand to begin your singing. "Thanks." you bowed your head respectfully before positioning yourself in the middle of them.

When you started the song, everything fell silent. Not even the musicians played.

"My love you do me wrong

To cast me off discourteously;"

Still silence. Only your angelic voice echoed through the place. People looked at you in amazement.

"And I have loved you oh so long

Delighting in your company."

A shy violin began to follow your melody.

"I have been ready at your hand

To grant whatever you would'st crave;"

Then the remaining two joined him.

"I have waged both life and land

Your love and goodwill for to have."

The deep cello sound accompanied your voice, and provided it with even more grandeur.

"If you intend thus to disdain

It does the more enrapture me,"

people began to murmur, amazed at your abilities. One of them was watching you carefully.

"And even so, I still remain

A lover in captivity."

The boy's mouth parted in amazement. He recognized your voice. And you finally saw him in the crowd. How could you overlook it? He shone brighter than anyone. The suit of him with different shades of brown was so typical of this man.

"Well, I will pray to God on high

That thou my constancy mayst see."

You started to bring your hand closer to the mask. The boy in brown took slow steps towards you. What were you doing? Have you gone crazy? He shocked and pushed people away as he passed by, with his eyes fixed on you just as you had them on him.

"And that yet once before I die

Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me."

Your words broke a bit at the end of the song. You took off the mask completely, revealing your white eyes.

The last thing you felt before being stunned by endless screams and hands pointing at you was the firm grip of the man who was now next to you. He ran while he pulled you hard, you had to get out of there, now.

"She's the witch! She's here!" some shouted. "Catch her, tie her up!" others yelled. "Take her away to be burned!"

But why was he so determined to keep you away from those people? Your purpose was to show your true self after declaring your love for him. Why...?

You ended up in the middle of the forest, getting lost in the darkness of the night, even so, you could hear the screams and the torches walking in your search.

A few tears came from your eyes, you were confused. The man looked at you, taking your hands and then merging into a hug with you.

"Why....? Why would you do such foolishness?" he questioned breathlessly.

"You don't love me after all. What better way to end my suffering than by declaring and letting myself be trapped?" you explained looking with your white eyes.

"You think I abandoned you because I hated you..." you nodded. "You have lived wrong all this time, my love." You looked at him with wide eyes as he ran his thumb down one of your cheeks, wiping away your tears.

"What...? Then...?"

"They separated me from you when they found out who you were." the shadow of a smile appeared on his lips. "You know that my family and witches don't share many interests."

You smiled remembering some anecdotes from when you were little. How happy you were playing together by the fountain in the square. And inside the garden of your house. And how you taught him your magic secretly.

And it was true. He was not lying. His family, who were vampires, including the man in front of you, did not sympathize with the witches who lived hidden in the city.

But, does it matter what you are? He loves you so deeply that he could accept anything from you. In the past, he was weak, and his family took him away from you. But now he was strong and he had you in front of his eyes. He wasn't going anywhere without you. Never more.

"They are getting closer." the cries of the people furious to capture you were getting closer to you.

"No need to worry." the boy brought his face close to yours to place a soft kiss on your lips. "Let's get away from here, my dear."

Let them find the vampire and the witch if they can. Naive of them if they think they can part a love like that one more time.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x female reader #genshin zhongli #zhongli #zhongli x female reader #genshin au #genshin oneshot #zhongli oneshot #vampire zhongli

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 11/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Сhapter 9

Chapter 10

The gala was so much grander than anything Hange could have ever imagined.

The Reiss manor looked imposing and splendid enough from the outside, but the interior was something else entirely, straight up from a fairytale.

As they walked through the black heavy doors, a magnificent stairwell stood in front of them. The stairs were covered by a red carpet, the railings adorned by flower arrangements and all around them were tall candelabra that bathed the room in a gentle, yellow light.

If that’s how the hallway looked, Hange didn’t know what she should expect from the ballroom.

“We should be more careful,” Ackerman whispered in her ear, startling her. With all that beauty around, she forgot that he was walking by her side. She almost forgot why they came here in the first place. “There is a shit ton of security.”

“Huh?” mouth open wide, Hange turned her head from one side to another, looking around the room. How did she miss the security?

“Four-eyes,” Ackerman hissed, pulling on her hand. “Stop acting like a child in the circus. You’re the inheritor of the biggest hotel chain in the country, remember? Behave accordingly.”

“Right, right,” Hange mumbled, lifting her chin and relaxing her shoulders. While giving her a suit, Ymir also assigned her a role. She had to play it off accordingly. “Do I look arrogant enough now?”

Ackerman’s eyes ran through her entire form, following every inch of her burgundy suit. Hange almost blushed under his gaze. “You’re fine,” he breathed out finally. Dressed in a black three-piece suit and with his hair sleeked back to reveal his face and steely eyes, he looked more than just fine. But… Hange didn’t come here to ogle the man. She had a job, she just had to keep that in mind. “And there,” he leaned closer to her, discreetly pointing out at the men in black suits that stood in every corner of the room, still as stone. “That’s where security is. You would have noticed them have you not gaped like a fish.”

Hange ought to kick him for that. At the very least, she ought to throw some curse at him. But his proximity had her heart racing and his hot breath on her cheek had her skin flashing. It had her remembering the today’s morning, when she had woken up to find Ackerman sleeping on her couch. He looked so damn adorable, his mouth slightly open, his face relaxed and so damn attractive. Hange stood there for a long, long minute, staring at him, peacefully snoring, before she surrendered to her weakness and went back to the bedroom to bring a blanket and drape it over him.

She ran into the bathroom immediately after, in dare need of a long, relaxing shower. As she finished, she walked into the hallway and was met with a strong smell that had her mouth filling with saliva. Cautiously, she travelled to the source of it. That’s where she saw Ackerman, who was now wide awake and standing in her kitchen, cooking breakfast out of what little he could find in her refrigerator and humming some pop song under his breath. The sight was so fucking domestic that Hange had to stop herself from sneaking up on him to hug him from behind.

That urge was so sudden, so absurd, it came out of nowhere.

She blamed the weird, annoying impulse on the hangover that had her head pulsing for hours after she had woken up. It also made her feel nauseous but Hange wasn’t entirely sure if the heavy and uneasy sensation was caused by the alcohol, the events of last night, and, especially an accident with Erwin, or the damn butterflies that fluttered around in her stomach every time hers and Ackerman’s eyes met.

Focus, she scolded herself, moving away from Ackerman. Just a few inches were separating them now, but even that was enough to bring some clarity to her thoughts.

“Everyone here is so fucking rich,” she mumbled more to herself than her companion. “I bet that lady’s dress costs more than my annual income. How did Ymir manage to get tickets to this thing?”

“More scamming on her part, I presume,” Ackerman muttered, his lips sliding downwards in the expression of displease. Oh, right, Hange had almost forgotten about the tender bond Ymir and Ackerman had formed during last evening. “And she made me donate a fucking insane amount of money to some charity fund.”

“You donated… stolen money?”

“Of course, I donated stolen money,” he snapped. “I don’t have any kind of other money. In that regard, I’m not so different from these pigs around us. At least, I don’t try to appear nobler than I am.”

And yet Ackerman was noble, even though he was so adamant at hiding this part of him from the others. He could have left her behind last night, could have escaped to attempt to find his uncle on his own. But he hadn’t left. He hadn’t escaped. He had called Erwin and asked him to take care of her.

Hange still didn’t know what to make of it. Ackerman’s kindness confused and perplexed her. It made her wonder how much of his Levi’s persona was a lie.

Was it a lie, at all?

The sight of a grand ballroom in front of her snapped Hange out of her reverie.

The room was majestic – high golden ceiling, adorned with white, intricate ornaments, tall windows, marble statues that stood by the walls, a giant, glistening chandelier that showered every inch of the room with warm, gentle light. On the other side was a stage, where an orchestra was placed. A dozen musicians prevailed over the chatter of the guests, the violins, piano, cellos and trombones worked as one to enhance the atmosphere of the event with a slow, pleasant melody.

Remembering Ackerman’s advice, Hange paid a more thorough attention, not only admiring her surroundings, but also keeping a close eye on every guest, searching for Frieda Reiss’ youthful and pretty face.

“There she is,” Ackerman pointed his chin at the woman in blue dress that was standing next to a balcony.

“We can’t go there now,” Hange shook her head, taking note of the several men that were conversing with Frieda. A little distance away she also saw a couple of men in black that watched the perimeter. “It’d be best if we attract as little attention as possible. Let’s wait until she is alone.”

“While we’re waiting, we can—”

“No!” Hange grabbed his wrist, pulling Ackerman back to her. “We’re not going to snoop around the house until we talk with Frieda. This will be our last resort.”

If someone would catch them in the act… A shudder ran through her at the mere thought.

In her haste to stop Ackerman, she didn’t think twice about touching him. As she realized that her fingers were still wrapped around his slim wrist, Hange wanted to pull away. But just as she was meaning to let go, Ackerman took a hold of her palm, intertwining their fingers.

“If we continue staring at Frieda like that, we’ll be sticking out like a sore thumb. We have to mix with the crowd.” Hange felt her stomach drop. She was almost certain what his next words would be. And she didn’t like it. “We can go and mingle with the guests…”

And possibly risk exposing themselves and alerting every one of their true intentions in the process.

“Or…” Ackerman had his gaze focused on the center of the room, where a dozen or so couples were spinning around in tact with the music. “How about we take it to the dancefloor, detective?”

Logically, Hange knew that it was a good idea. If they go dancing, they wouldn’t attract much attention and they would be able to discreetly track Frieda’s movements. But from a personal standpoint… she couldn’t imagine a prospect that was more undesirable to her.

She swallowed, accepting her fate. The logical part of her won.

“Let’s do this,” she pulled Ackerman closer, approaching the dancefloor like she was marching to war.

Once they were there, surrounded by laughing, happy couples, she put her hand on the small of his back, her other clasping his palm. His suit was soft under her touch, his warmth radiating through the fabric. His hand was rough and calloused, but his grip was gentle, feather light.

“Be careful”, Erwin had said to her last night, his blue eyes boring into hers with intensity that was so rarely aimed at her, “you’re playing with fire.”

She scoffed at his dramatics last night, but now she could almost feel the flames, licking at her feet. They grew bigger, hotter as she looked into Ackerman’s eyes. They were the color of the stormy sky, dangerous and beautiful. Mesmerizing.

“The music choice is awful,” she complained with feigned discontent, a vain attempt to distract herself from the effect that bastard had on her. “This song is probably older than I am.”

“But it’s pleasant,” Ackerman remarked.

Hange couldn’t protest. The song was pleasant. The musicians were talented too, the trombone, cellos and piano mixed together wonderfully, creating a melancholic and magnificent melody. And dancing with Ackerman, being close enough to feel his body heat, to hear his breathing, to smell his woody cologne… it was pleasant as well.

Turning away from him, Hange forced her attention on the other side of the ballroom, where Frieda was now talking with an elderly couple. Frieda was smiling, brightly and genuinely. Her smile was almost identical to Historia’s. Perhaps, it would help them win Frieda’s favor today.

“It looks like we have to continue dancing,” she spun them around, providing Ackerman with the view of their target. With nothing else to do now, Hange continued talking, hiding her uneasiness behind mindless chatter. “You are a better dancer than I thought.”

“Once Kenny decided to steal a painting from the Opera House. I had to seduce one of the dancers to get the entrance key.”

In spite of herself, Hange chuckled. “Did you succeed?”

“Let’s just say that I was much more efficient at dancing than at seducing,” he said, his lips curling up. “And you? Where do detectives learn how to dance?”

“I was a member of the drama club, remember?”

Judging by Ackerman’s wide eyed look, he not only remembered about the drama club, but he was also surprised that Hange remembered talking about it.

Perhaps… she had disclosed more than she should have. Perhaps, it would have been wiser to play the drunken forgetful fool card. But before she could bath herself in mortification, Ackerman squeezed her hand a little tighter and whirled her around, compelling her to move forward.

“Frieda is alone,” he explained curtly. “We need to hurry.”

___

As it turned out, there was no need for hiding in the plain sight. Frieda was already aware of their presence.

“Hange Zoe,” as they approached, Frieda took a step forward, a sweet smile already on her lips. “My father has spoken highly about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Although, I do wonder,” her bright violet eyes glistened in the light, as she slowly looked both of them over. “What is a busy detective doing on my gala?”

“Investigating, of course,” Hange countered easily. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”

She didn’t have her trusty notebook with her, and its absence was felt keenly by her. Without it, Hange didn’t know where to put her hands. Distraughtly, she brought them behind her back, wringing them slightly. Her wrist was discreetly slapped not a second later.

Startled and confused, she threw a brief look at Ackerman. He was staring back at her, ‘don’t act so skittish’, his eyes seemed to tell her. Hange scoffed and kicked his foot. As if she didn’t know that already.

“You can ask your questions,” Frieda replied. “But I fail to see how my answers can help you find that missing girl of yours.”

“Ah, so you’re aware of my case? And Krista Lenz’s disappearance?”

“Perhaps, you’re also aware that Krista isn’t her real name,” Ackerman added.

There was a slight pause, a beat of silence that excited Hange. Did they manage to catch Frieda off guard so easily? But a moment has passed, and her composure returned. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze filling with suspicion, as she stared Ackerman down.

“My father failed to mention that you have a partner, detective Zoe. Didn’t you use to work alone?”

Ha! Hange thought. Frieda had to do a little better than that to keep her on her toes.

“This investigation is complicated, I need all the help I can get. And, Miss Reiss,” she held Frieda’s gaze, slowly curling her lips in a smile. “You haven’t answered our question. Do you know that Krista Lenz isn’t the girl’s actual name? Do you know that her real name is,” Hange paused, sharing with Ackerman a look full of anticipation. “Historia Reiss, which would make her…”

“Your sister,” Ackerman finished.

They’ve got her, Hange could feel it. They’ve laid all of their cards, now they just needed to give a final push and Frieda would crack. She could see those cracks already, appearing on her beautiful face.

Hold on, Historia, I’m coming for you

“If you know something about her disappearance, we’d be happy to—”

“No.” Frieda said, cutting Hange off.

“Huh?” Hange’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop after the sudden interruption. “No as if—”

“No as if I won’t help you. No as if I have no idea what you’re talking. No,” Frieda’s eyes flashed menacingly, as she stepped closer to Hange, “as if I don’t have time for this. No as if leave my house before I call security on you.”

“Wait a minute, I—”

“Hange,” Ackerman had his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her away from Frieda. “No means no. Let’s go before we get into trouble.”

Hange let him take her away. She wasn’t ecstatic about their plan B, but she knew now that they had no other choice. If Frieda didn’t want to share the information willingly… they would take the information from her.

“Thank you for your time and enjoy your evening.” She told Frieda, before they disappeared back into the crowd.

___

With her hand securely grasped in his, Ackerman led her forward, effortlessly moving through small groups of people. He kept his head straight and his expression seemed nearly relaxed, but Hange could see the subtle movements of his eyes. He slowly swiped his gaze from one side of the room to another, noting a hundred different things, no doubt.

“You’ve studied the blueprints, right?” he asked in a voice no louder than a breath.

Hange nodded, an image of the map materializing in front of her eyes. If they were in the center of the house, then—

“We need to get to the left wing, Frieda’s room is at the end of the hallway.”

If Ymir’s map was correct. If no one would see them enter another – probably, locked - part of the building. If they wouldn’t get—

“Relax,” Ackerman gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It will be fine.”

“But what if we will—”

“We won’t.” He calmly promised. “I won’t allow it. I’ll keep us safe, trust me.”

“I trust you,” she said. She didn’t add ‘to keep us safe’. Ackerman seemed to take note of that.

“Did you tell your boss about our plan?”

Did she tell Erwin? Of course, she did not. After a stern talking off she had received last night, she thought it was for the best if she didn’t share the details of their wonderful plan that involved breaking inside Reiss’ manor.

“I forgot to mention it last night.”

“What did—” Hange knew what he wanted to ask. But, perhaps, Ackerman wasn’t ready to hear her answer yet. She could relate with him on that. Hange also hadn’t been ready for everything Erwin had said to her. But she had no other choice. “Never mind, let’s focus on the plan.”

It was hard to do as he said, when Ackerman’s thumb kept brushing her knuckles with enough gentleness to make her weak in knees. Hange wasn’t sure if he was even aware of what he was doing, but her heart noticed, and now it was performing cart-wheels in her ribcage. This whole horseshit with feeling was starting to get really fucking annoying.

Hange yanked her hand out of his grasp with a loud huff. Ignoring Ackerman’s bewildered gaze, she continued moving through the crowd, evading dancing couples and laughing guests. Ackerman was at her heels, following her just a breath away. Even so, with their distance so miniscule, she felt so much better and calmer now.

But not for long. As soon as they approached the entrance, leading to the hallway, Ackerman wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her flush against him.

“Play along,” he whispered, before walking up to the two guards. “I’m sorry, but where is the bathroom? You see, my date here had a little too much champagne…”

He spoke so smoothly and confidently, going as much as adding a touch of caring to his voice. Hange wouldn’t let him best her at this, she was a member of the drama club for fuck's sake. She leaned heavily against Ackerman, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Feeling him froze and his heartbeat pick up was the most delightful thing that happened to her the entire evening.

It was good to know that she wasn’t the only one who had her body rebel against her mind.

The guard guided them to a door on the other side of the stairs, and Ackerman thanked him and started dragging her towards it. Hange giggled, when she heard him let out a quiet curse.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” he hissed, pulling another giggle out of her. Something witty and sarcastic was on the tip of her tongue, when Ackerman added, “I’ll be having my fun later.”

Huh? Before Hange could ask him to elaborate, Ackerman pushed her through the door inside the bathroom.

“Wait!” something very close to dread started to sink in her stomach. “Why are we here? Weren’t we supposed to get inside Frieda’s room?”

“Does Frieda’s room have a balcony?” Ackerman asked, ignoring her question completely.

“According to the blueprints, it does…”

“Can you find it from the outside?”

“I probably could, yes, but…”

“Excellent,” he promptly walked up to the window, opening it. “Then let’s go.”

Before Hange could protest, before she could curse him to hell and back, Ackerman lifted his leg, climbing out of the window. Hange watched him, eyes wide.

“What are you waiting for?” he urged, hanging from the windowsill. “Did you have another way to get inside her room?”

“I imagined it wouldn’t involve me jumping of the windows.”

“Don’t jump, climb out.”

Hange couldn’t fucking believe him. Don’t jump, he said as if it was a completely normal situation. Climb out, as if she knew how to do this shit.

She told Ackerman the very same thing.

“It’s easier that it looks,” he shrugged, still effortlessly hanging of the fucking window. Just how strong the bastard was? “C’mon, four-eyes, we don’t have all night. I can go alone if—”

“No.”

It was her fucking case, her investigation. And if she needed to climb out of the fucking window to finish it, then so be it.

“If I fall, I’m going to blame you,” she warned, as she threw over her leg. “Erwin will have your head for it.”

“You won’t fall,” he said. “I won’t let you.”

Hange looked him in the eyes to see if he was joking. She saw nothing but sincerity.

Fuck.

She threw her other leg over the windowsill, now hanging of it with her legs dangling in the air. She tentatively put them on a thin patch of cobblestone, testing her grounds.

Huh, it wasn’t as difficult as she had expected. The parapet underneath the window was wide for her to stand almost comfortably.

“Good thing Ymir got you a suit and not a dress,” Ackerman said. “Now where to?”

“Move to the left, to the end of the wall. And…”

“Yes?”

“Go slowly, alright? In case—”

“I got you, four-eyes. Don’t worry.”

Somehow, his words actually made her feel more at ease. And as she felt the wind on her face, Hange allowed herself a little grin. It was rather exciting.

Together, they started to move.

Hange never thought she’d be scaling a fucking wall, but here she was. As she tentatively travelled from one windowsill to another, she tried to breathe as quietly and calmly as it was possible. Her arms hurt from the exertion of supporting her weight, her legs were shaking and every time she caught the glimpse of the ground underneath, her excitement faded and her panic grew, closing up her throat and sending her insides flying. What made the whole ordeal just a little more unbearable were Ackerman and the way he easily performed his every move, calm and controlled. Hange would have snapped at him, if she wasn’t so afraid that opening her mouth would send her plummeting to her death.

“You won’t die if you fall down,” Ackerman said, possibly sensing her mental state. Or catching sight of her wide, terrified eyes and trembling hands. “You’ll just break your legs and arms and possibly injure your spine.”

Was it his attempt at giving comfort? He sucked at it.

“Just shut up,” she gritted through her teeth. Thank god this part of the building had no lights on. Hange didn’t even want to think what would have happened if someone saw them. Falling to her death didn’t seem that grave of a prospect compared to it.

Only a couple of windows stood between them and the balcony in Frieda’s room. Hange eternally thanked all the times Mike dragged her out the office and into a gym. Thanks to his insistence, her brain didn’t splatter across the pavement.

Hange released a sigh of pure relief, when she saw Ackerman reach the railing of the balcony and swing his legs over it.

The experience wasn't completely awful, Hange even enjoyed the surge of adrenaline and the wind gushing through her hair, but still... thank fuck, this nightmare was almost over.

But just as she had lifted her hand to touch the metal bar of the railing, her right foot slipped, missing the next cobblestone. She cried out, as her arms flared up, desperately trying to get a hold of something stable enough to support all of her weight. But the railing was still out of her reach, her other leg buckled under her, and Hange felt her heart stop, as she dangled from the wall, holding onto it with one trembling hand.

Her fingers were sliding down, slowly but surely. Hange closed her eyes, preparing for the fall.

But it never came.

Just as she started to descend, her arm was grasped, roughly yanking her upwards. Hange shot her head up, meeting the steel grey eyes. They were opened wide – worried, frightened.

“I’ve got you,” Levi husked, his voice thick with panic. “Hange, I’ve got you.”

He was craning over the railing, his upper body hanging of it. But despite the danger he was facing, he hold onto her tightly, grunting as he started to lift her up.

Hange did her best to assist him, grabbing the metal bar as soon as it was close enough. Even then, when she had it secured with a white-knuckled clasp, Ackerman didn’t let go of her hand.

With the last bit of effort, he got her out, flinging her over the railing and to the balcony marble floor.

Oxygen was able to enter her lungs only after Hange felt the ground beneath her body. Despite the precarious situation, her landing was not painful at all. It was rather soft, and Hange almost marveled at it out loud.

But then she finally made sense of her surroundings. She didn’t fall onto the ground. She fell on Ackerman.

This was starting to become a pattern.

Shocked and overwhelmed, Hange knew only one way to let out her emotions. She started laughing, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“Are you alright?” he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, sounding as shaken as she was feeling.

Still laughing like crazy, Hange gave him a nod, rolling off him. “Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing her sweaty bangs from her face. “I didn’t mean to— well, you know.”

“You didn’t want to paint that lovely patch of ground with your blood? Good to know, four-eyes, I was starting to get worried.”

“Asshole,” despite herself, she snickered again. Jesus, she almost fucking died. But she didn’t, because of Ackerman. “Thank you, by the way. If it weren’t for you—”

“You’d be a mess, and you know how much I hate it,” he said, curling his lips up in a slight smile. It suited him, that smile. Hange almost reached towards him—

Perhaps, she had hit her head after all.

She turned away, getting to her knees. Her legs were still shaking, but she managed to get up. As soon as she was up, Ackerman appeared beside her. He took out the knife that was strapped to his calf and approached the balcony door. It was a tall glass door that consisted of two parts. Naturally, it was closed. Ackerman kneeled before it and with a move so swift Hange almost didn’t catch it, drove the knife in the slit between two parts of the door, moving it upwards until he heard a click. The door was opened in the next moment.

“Ready to find out what Lady Reiss is hiding?”

“As ready as ever,” Hange muttered, following Ackerman inside.

Frieda’s room looked exactly as Hange had expected the room of a rich heiress to look like. It was spacious, with high ceilings and tall windows that were partially covered by heavy green curtains. A large oak desk stood near the entrance to the balcony and next to it was an easel. The easel was enclosed by a white cloth.

Curious, Hange took it off, revealing an unfinished painting. Despite the drawing being nothing more than a rough sketch, that bright smile and big eyes were easily recognizable.

And Frieda had the gall to claim that she didn’t know Historia. Now they had a proof it was a lie. Well, she could continue lying all she wanted. Hange was going to uncover all of her secrets anyway.

“Go over her papers,” Ackerman said, taking a seat at Frieda’s desk. “I’ll see what she has in her computer.”

“What if it’s protected by a password?”

“That’s why I’ll be taking care of it. Unless… you know how to hack into computer?”

“You know how to hack into computer?” Hange asked incredulously.

“I’m a thief that police couldn’t catch for years, remember? A computer is nothing for me.”

Of course, of course, how could Hange forget that Ackerman was also a little cocky shit? However…

“I almost caught you,” she noted, matter-of-factly.

“You tricked us.”

“Traute tricked you. I merely asked her to do it.”

“That still counts as cheating.”

Cheating, Hange rolled her eyes. As if their game had any rules. As if it was a game at all.

“Where is Traute now, by the way?” Ackerman cautiously asked. “Is she…”

“She is alive, if that’s what you’re worried about. And in prison, serving her time. After she found out that your uncle is still free, she was more than happy for the opportunity to hide.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad she is well.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Had she not only failed to apprehend Ackermans but inadvertently caused the death of another person, Hange wouldn’t know what to do with herself after that giant of a fuck up. She wouldn’t know how to continue working after that. She wouldn’t know how to look in the mirror. She—

She shook her head, getting rid of these thoughts. Traute was alive and well, paying for her crimes in the safety of prison walls. She had a more pressing matter on her hands right now.

With moonlight serving as her lamp, Hange shifted through a pile of documents, official letters and sketches, all done by Frieda’s skillful hand. She carefully studied each piece of paper, hoping to find some kind of a clue.

She wasn’t that lucky.

And as she looked through page after meaningless page, her eyes started to wander. To the painting on the wall, to the beautifully decorated wardrobe, to the man sitting next to her – to his face, illuminated by a pale blue light of the computer screen, to his eyes that swiftly moved from side to side, to his mouth that was slightly opened in concentration.

Hange cursed under her breath, averting her gaze before Ackerman could catch her in the act.

“Also I’m not sure if you’re aware,” she began, feigningly detachment. “But leaving stupid notes on the scene of crimes isn’t the best course of action for a thief.”

“What?” he looked up, meeting her eyes.

“The notes,” Hange repeated. “The ones I found after every heist.”

“Ah, that. It was funny.”

“Funny?!”

What the fuck?

“It pissed you off. Watching you run around and curse was hilarious.”

Ackerman had sure enjoyed himself in those moments, if his fond tone of voice was anything to go by. Which made Hange so angry, but also made her wonder…

“Wait, you’ve seen me doing all of that? How?”

Ackerman turned his eyes back to the computer screen. His lips were pressed in a tight line before he mumbled, “Sometimes I stayed behind and watched.”

“You— what? Why? When? How I haven’t noticed?”

“No one notices the janitor.”

Hange stared at him in shock. Perhaps, Ackerman truly had a reason to feel gleeful. How could she not notice him? She should have noticed an attractive janitor, shouldn’t she? But then again, Hange always had a tunnel sort of vision, while she was at work.

“Anyway, that was very shitty of you,” she concluded, returning to the papers. “Mocking me like that…”

“I didn’t mock. I teased.”

“Isn’t that same thing?”

“Not quite.”

Hange scoffed and rolled her eyes. She never knew that banter could be so frustrating. Usually she was the one who infuriated other people. But Ackerman was just as good at the back and forth. A tough opponent, that’s for sure.

“Have you found something?” she asked him, as she put the stack of papers down. She looked at them for long enough to realize that she wouldn’t find anything that might be useful for them in any way. Perhaps, her partner had a better luck.

“There is nothing here but pretentious hipster photos and email exchanges with corporate fuckers.”

Or… he didn’t.

“So…” Hange had another back plan prepared. It was just as illegal as their current one, and even more reckless. But… she had gone that far, stopping now would only squander all of their previous efforts. “Are you good at pickpocketing?”

“What?” Ackerman turned to her, his face incredulous. “Are you saying—”

“There is nothing on her desk, nothing on her computer. We have only one possibility left. We need to look through her phone.”

Something had got to be there, Hange was sure of it. Frieda knew something, had to. How else explain the unfinished painting then? And the familiarity with the case Hange was working on?

“You want me to steal her phone. Huh, you’re growing up, four-eyes.”

Ackerman looked actually impressed. Hange subdued a wave of delight she felt because of it.

“We would need to get close to Frieda again,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “And for that we need to get back to the ballroom and—”

“No scaling the walls anymore.” Hange announced resolutely. It was exciting, yes, but she had her fill of this particular exercise already. She liked her neck and her undamaged bones.

“What do you propose then?”

What indeed…

“I’ll figure something out. Just trust me, alright?”

“I trust you.”

He didn’t hesitate, Ackerman didn’t even think before he spoke. Was he telling the truth then? Did he really trust her, and so readily?

She didn’t know what to think of it.

Perhaps, she shouldn't think about it then.

You had a case you have to focus on, Hange reminded to herself.

"Let's get going then."

They moved everything to the way it was before - put the papers back into the neat piles, closed the door and turned off the computer.

Then they left the room, stepping into a dark hallway. They walked through it carefully, quietly.

Everything was going so well.

Until it wasn't.

They've heard footsteps first. Then, came the voices. And they were growing closer, headed in their direction.

Fuck, they had to do something and fast.

Hange had to do something. But only one thing came to mind. One foolish, stupid thing. It was all Hange had in that fleeting moment.

You’re playing with fire, Erwin had said. Well, Hange was ready to get burned.

___

Shit. That was the first and his only reaction to the newly arisen problem.

Someone was coming their way. Levi could see the light of flashlight just behind the corner.

They had no time to run. They had nowhere to hide. They—

"Play along," Hange hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Before he could comprehend what the fuck was going on, Hange had him pressed against the wall, her face incredibly close to his.

"It means nothing, Ackerman," she whispered, before she put her lips on his.

His heart stopped, his brain short-circuited. Hange was kissing him. Her hands were fisted in the lapels of his jacket, her lips were moving against his, her tongue slipped inside his mouth.

It was phenomenal. Fantastic, splendid, better than Levi could possibly imagine.

And at the same time, it meant nothing. Hange had said so, and who was he to argue?

It meant nothing, absolutely nothing, so he pulled her closer, put his palm onto her cheek to caress it gently. He allowed himself to linger, kept their lips connected even when the guards arrived.

“Hands up! And turn around!”

"Ah, sorry, sorry!" to Levi’s immense disappointment, Hange took a step back, a bashful grin appearing on her face. "We got carried away a little, that's so embarrassing."

She had laughed, her hand travelling down his chest. To the outside looker, they probably appeared like a madly in love couple. Nothing could be further from the truth but— Levi cherished that fleeting moment nevertheless.

The two guards that had caught them shared a look, full of incomprehension.

"This area is off limits," one of them, the taller one said. "How did you even get in here?"

"My boyfriend wanted to explore a fantasy of his... You know, there is no obstacle that can stop true love."

The expression on the guards' faces, the perfect mix of shock, confusion and disgust, was priceless. Levi could barely keep himself from laughing.

"We can't just let them go," the shorter one mumbled to his partner. "Maybe, we should take them to Miss Reiss?"

"Agreed. Let her take care of these weirdos."

The men stood behind them, pushing them forward. Catching his eye, Hange flashed him a victorious smile. Ah, so everything was going according to her plan. Good to know.

Levi leaned closer to her. "If you ever tire of being a detective," he murmured, "Think of becoming a grifter."

"Is that a compliment? Or a job offer?"

"Could be both," he shrugged and was rewarded by a quiet chuckle.

The guards led them out of the dark empty hallway of the left wing, bringing them to the bright and golden colored stairway.

"Stay here," the shorter guard instructed. "I'll bring Miss Reiss to you."

A couple of minutes later, Frieda came out to them, wearing the same sugary smile. That kind of smile was perfect for her father's campaign posters. Perhaps, that's why she had it refined it to such degree.

Still looking like a fucking fairytale princess, Frieda lifted her hand and let the guards return to their positions. The smile slipped from her face the moment the three of them were left alone.

"I told you to leave," her eyes narrowed, unmasking the anger she felt. Right now, she didn't resemble a sweet, pretty girl that was her sister. Right now, she looked exactly like her father. "Why are you still here? And what were you doing in that hallway?"

"With all due respect," Hange slightly bowed. Levi coughed to hide his snicker. "But I don't exactly kiss and tell."

Frieda seethed, color rising to her cheeks.

"I apologize for my partner," Levi put his hand on her elbow, his fingers blindly searching for his goal. He found it, and fairly quickly. Oh, how he loved dresses with pockets. Phone securely grasped in his fingers, Levi pushed it into the sleeve of his jacket. "And I apologize for our behavior. We didn't mean to cause you any harm."

He moved his hand away from Frieda, putting it inside the pocket of his pants. Once the phone was there, he gave Hange a small nod.

"Yes, it was a mistake that I hope you would forget," Hange gave Frieda a smile - a wide, radiant one.

Frieda scoffed, obviously not impressed. "You entered the private property without my knowledge or consent, I should call police." Levi tensed. That scenario was very, very unwelcome. "But my father spoke very highly of you, detective Zoe. And your Captain, Erwin Smith, is a man of great virtue. It’s because I respect both of them, I'll let you go. Just, for the love of God, leave this time."

"Already on it!" Hange exclaimed, taking Levi by the sleeve of his jacket and dragging him to the exit.

"Fucking hell," she cursed when they were a good distance away. "I thought she'd call Erwin on me. Imagine if that had happened!"

Levi did, albeit briefly. He winced as a very clear image entered his mind. Yesterday's fiasco was scary enough, he could only guess how bad it would be if he actually got Hange into some kind of trouble. Erwin would have torn his head off before Levi could say "It was her plan".

“You got the phone, right?”

“Of course, I’ve got it,” he waited until they were out of the house and fished it out, showing Hange a sparkling yellow phone case.

“Well, open it!” she urged, hovering above him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

Levi activated the screen, and, unsurprisingly, the phone requested a password.

“Do you know how old is she?”

“Twenty-seven?” Hange sounded incredibly unsure. Levi lifted his head to watch her bit her lip in concentration. The same lip he touched with his own not so long ago.

A wrong fucking train of thought, he chastised himself immediately.

“Or twenty-eight? Something like that, I’m pretty sure.”

Levi nodded and entered Frieda’s approximate birth year. It worked on a second try.

Apparently, their girl was a very busy person. She received more than a few dozen phone calls every day. However, there was one number that popped out with more frequency than the others. And usually the calls occurred after office hours.

It could be nothing. Maybe, it was Frieda’s lover. Or best friend. Or someone equally important to her. So important that she hadn’t even bothered to add their name to the phonebook.

It could be nothing. But Levi had a feeling.

Sharing a brief look with Hange, he dialed that number.

The call was answered just a second later.

“Hey, lady, weren’t you the one who told me not to call you? Or is your event for rich fuckers that boring that you decided to ditch them all and bother me?”

Levi froze in one spot, his mouth hanging open.

That voice, he could recognize in anywhere.

That voice, it belonged to Kenny.

#shout out to that anon who wrote about hange's mad skills at poker! i've included a small hint about it #the hint is miniscule but it's there because ily <3 #levihan

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lookninjas · 2 years

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Sad Bangers for Your Commute Home

So I realized yesterday morning that my current driving playlist is like 94% sad bangers and then the rest of it is mostly Ginger Root (not sad, catchy as hell). Naturally, I then set about trying to classify each artist (except Ginger Root) as a particular type of Sad Banger. A taxonomy of Sad Bangers, if you will. Some of you seemed interested in hearing more about this, so here you go. I am including a song rec for each one, as @itsmevickyb seemed to want recs and the playlist itself is seriously 17 hours long so you can’t just listen to it (unless you spread it out over the course of a week’s worth of driving, as I do).

Anyway. Here we go, in no particular order:

Tears for Fears: Undisputed Kings of the Sad Bangers. Foundation for the entire playlist. Chunky knitwear for life. Song rec: The Tipping Point. Can’t wait to cry over this album in February.

Dessa: Queen of the Sad Bangers (at least in my opinion). Apparently her mom once accused her of writing “songs to bleed out to.” Seems kinda harsh. Hyperverbal polymath singer/rapper who will never break out the way she should (but she really should). Glad she’s finally over that X. Song rec: Good Grief.

Chvrches: Proud owners of the Robert Smith Sad Banger Seal of Approval. When I put this on the playlist at first, I didn’t like it. A couple spins through and now I have no idea what I was thinking because they’re awesome. Scottish as fuck and it’s amazing. Song rec: How Not to Drown.

Roger O’Donnell: Sad Bangers, but Make Them Classical. Sometimes I just need to hear some cello, okay? Song rec: Don’t Tell Me...

Japanese Breakfast: Nominated for the Grammy for Best New Sad Bangers, (despite already having three albums out). This album is apparently actually supposed to be about joy. It was also written after she lost her mom, so. Fits squarely in the space between Tears for Fears and Wilco, which makes sense because she covered one and recently joined an all-star team to play “California Stars” at the Austin City Limits Hall of Fame induction for the other. Love her. Love her. Song rec: In Hell.

Depeche Mode: Horny Sad Bangers about God and also Capitalism. Is that a sample of a ping-pong ball? Pretty sure it is. Look, just go with it. Everyone was more experimental in the 80s. Song rec: Lie to Me

Chairlift: Sad Bangers That I Should’ve Gotten Into Like a Decade Ago (but better late than never). Honestly some of it’s more cheerful, but Caroline Polachek’s voice lends everything the highest of drama, and her Kate Bush moves don’t hurt either. Can I hit these notes? No. Am I still trying? Yep. Song rec: Crying in Public

Curt Smith: Sad Bangers Gone Solo. Like Chvrches, this album was one that had to grow on me a bit. Unlike Chvrches, I’m pretty sure half the album is about Curt Smith’s daughters, and that’s pretty adorable, I won’t lie. “Wild” has a fun, mid-eighties Putamayo World Music Hour vibe to it, but since we’re focusing on Sad Bangers here, the actual rec is Some Secrets and its gorgeous acoustic intro.

Fiona Apple: Sad Bangers Learned to Embrace the Chaos and Got a Perfect Pitchfork Review Because of It. Also, Sad Bangers Came Back Vengeful with a Baseball Bat, and I For One Am Okay With It. (Seriously, I don’t think Fiona Apple would actually beat someone to death with her bare hands. I’m just saying that if she did, I would assume she had her reasons and I would support her choices). Song rec: Heavy Balloon.

Phoebe Bridgers: This one’s just kinda obvious, isn’t it? Song rec: Halloween.

Christine and the Queens: Sad French Bangers That Are Oddly Appropriate to These Pandemic Times. Also, the only thing sadder than some of these bangers is me attempting to sing along in French. Except for “La Vita Nuova,” which is in Italian. (Can’t sing along in Italian, either. Still try though.) The full La Vita Nuova video is stunning and well worth the watch, but if you really can’t spare the time for it (it’s not even fifteen minutes!), just put People I’ve Been Sad on repeat for a while.

Aldous Harding: These Sad Bangers are So Weird and I LOVE THEM. Folky, hypnotic, deeply strange. Her voice is astonishing. The instrumentation is generally simple but deeply captivating. Her lyrics are weird as fuck and completely comprehensible in the strangest ways and just the best thing since toast. Song rec: Damn.

Wilco: Sad is not the word for these Bangers. There is not a word for these Bangers, in fact, unless there is a word somewhere for That Feeling You Get in February When You’re Looking at Lake Michigan and Everything is Gray and You Realize You Haven’t Had a Real Emotion Since The Week After New Year’s and You Probably Won’t Have a Real Emotion Again Until Sometime in May When the Color Returns. Which might be a word, probably in German. Song rec: Please Be Patient With Me

Oh, and then there’s Ginger Root, which is not Sad, only Bangers. Loungey, disco-ey, strong seventies vibes. Catchy as fuck. You gotta dance sometimes, right? Song rec: Neighbor, because I got so distracted by the “Doo doo doo doo doo!” chorus yesterday that I almost hit a deer, and I still can’t manage to be mad at it.

#music #music recs #sad bangers for all #also listen to ginger root! it's fun! it's catchy!#try not to hit any deer though!

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eggtoasties · 3 years

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Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro drabble #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #nekoma high #nekoma haikyuu #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo x y/n

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earstwo · 4 years

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I hit 7k recently after losing almost 1.5k followers when I converted to a Reylo blog (not sorry in the slightest) and decided it was time to finally compile some of the INCREDIBLE fanfics that I’ve read since joining the fandom in December.

I’m constantly impressed by the talent around here and I'm so grateful to love a ship that has some of the most amazing content I’ve ever seen. The creators in this fandom are second to none. I’m so thankful for all they do and all that they give to us.

Please keep never stop sharing your gifts. <3

**Note: Most (pretty much all) of these are rated E.

Without further ado, here are (some of) my favorite stories:

The Jedi Path by SouthsideStory | 19k | E | I am such a sucker for Jedi Academy Ben and Rey. It’s everything I never knew I needed, and this fic is a beautiful rendition. If you know me at all, you know that I devour Angst with a Happy Ending stories, and this is no exception to that rule.

Exile by Ernzo | 22k | E | Oof. This one hurts. Leia sends Rey to the planet where Ben is exiled. It’s angsty and sad and cathartic in every way. I’ve read it dozens of times.

Before the Saber Swings by @waterlilyrose | 28k | M | Fuck. When I tell y’all that this story fucked me up, I mean it from the bottom of my s o u l. It stayed with me for days. I literally couldn’t get it out of my head. It felt so real to me that I was in physical pain while reading it. I also made an AU gifset of the fic with a quote from Buffy because I’m extra and love pain.

penitence by @bettsfic | 16k | M | Look, Betts is one of my favorite fanfiction authors of all time. Her Bellarke works are some that I’ve read dozens of times and I was fucking ecstatic when I found out she also writes Reylo. This is an A+ TROS fix-it that is lovely and soft and sweet.

The Writings of Ben Solo by BurnedStars777 | 39k | E | This was recced to me by the fabulous @galacticidiots and is just a fantastic story all around. Rey finds Ben’s journal whilst stuck on a planet with Kylo Ren and she (eventually) connects the dots. Rey falling in love with Ben sight unseen? Here. For. it. find a thread to pull, and we can watch it unravel by again_please | 17k | E | A fantastic post-TLJ story with angsty and broody Ben and just some all around quality smut. I devoured this and have read it multiple time since.

We Could Plant a House, We Could Build a Tree by @likeadove | 124k | E | I will probably never stop reading this fic. It’s such a beautiful coming of age story for Rey and her relationship with Ben as she grows up is just... gah. It’s fantastic. Please read it.

Soul Searching by OptimisticBeth | 205k | E | Soulmates AU where Ben is Rey’s teacher? Sign me the fuuuuck up, and Soul Searching is so fucking well written. I go back to this one every few weeks and just gush at how great the world building is. I love the relationship Rey has with Leia and Han. It’s rich with love and angst and fluffffff. So good.

Coveted by OptimisticBeth | 82k | E | WIP | OptimisticBeth is just an incredible writer, so you should honestly read all of her stuff, but I am so, so, so into this fic. It’s A/B/O and Ben’s Rey’s pack leader. He, along with a bunch of other Alphas are trying to court Rey, a highly desired Omega. It’s so fucking delicious, y’all. Alpha Ben Solo is just...it doesn’t get much better.

A Treehouse Covered in Salt by violethoure666 | 34k | E | This fic made me cry my eyes out. I’m not kidding. It’s so raw and real. It hurts to read at some points, but you care so much about Ben and Rey in this that you fight through the pain. They grow up together as neighbors and Han builds them a treehouse where they meet throughout their childhoods/teen years. Prepare to cry but also be so fulfilled and satisfied. It’s wonderful. love it when you call me lover by @kylotrashforever | 66k | E | WIP | First, let me say that anything by KTF is going to be gold. These fics I have listed are just a few of my favorites at the moment. Lover is hot as fuck (as is all of her stuff) but also fluffy in the best way. It’s in Sadsville right now so I’m fucking PUMPED for her to update. Ben’s a doctor who basically gives Rey a sexual awakening when he proves her statement of “I just don’t think I can come from (insert sexual act here)” very, very wrong.

mountain at my gates by @kylotrashforever | 26k | E | More A/B/O goodness. Omega Rey’s car breaks down on a mountain. Ben is a mountain man Alpha. You can probably guess what happens from there. *fans self*

take me to church by @kylotrashforever | 26k | E | I love this story so much. Ben is the pastor’s son at the church Rey grows up in. They start hooking up in secret and are terrrrrrible at communicating with each other which leads to angst. But it’s so sweet and soft while also being super hot. I love this Ben and Rey so much.

Your Pretty Little Heart by @ever-so-reylo | 64k | E | The A/B/O Reylo bible, I feel like. They’re doctors and he’s a grumpy as fuck Alpha. Shenanigans ensue. And by shenanigans I mean a lot, a lot, a LOT of sex.

The Food of Love by @lovesbitca8 | 60k | E | Y’all. If you haven’t read this yet, please stop what you’re doing and read it RIGHT NOW. I ate this fic up in one sitting because holy SHIT it’s amazing. It’s so well written and the story is just... absolutely exquisite. Ben is cellist that’s also a famous rockstar and Rey’s an up and coming violinist and they fall in loOOoOOve in the best, most angsty, sexiest way. Please just read it right now. The scene when she firsts goes to his apartment and plays one of his cellos............you guys. It’s a lot.

Already Home by AttackoftheDarkCurses | 81k | E | This is soulmates + A/B/O so naturally I am obsessed with it. Rey gets connected with her soulmate via a website and he’s going by the name Kylo Ren. At the same time, she’s also moving in with grumpy librarian Ben Solo. She falls in love with both but has no idea that they’re the same person. It’s INCREDIBLE.

Tangled but Unbroken by AttackoftheDarkCurses | 20k | M | I read this the other night and it’s so fucking soft. I am such a fucking sucker for growing up together fics and this is just such top quality. The braiding kills me every goddamn time. Also, I’m making my way through all of Attack’s works right now and they’re all incredible. Highly recommend.

Dear Mr. President by @shmisolo | 89k | E | I love this Ben so much. The characterization is so on the money. The angst is absolutely delicious. The smut is top brass. Oh, and did I mention they’re soulmates? It’s everything you need, I promise.

Good Day, Professor by @faequeentitania | 38k | E | One of the best Professor Solo fics out there. I’m such a sucker for age difference fics. Of course there’s angst, who do you think I am?

Embers by sciosophia | 34k | E | Breaking up/getting back together fics are some of my favorites and this one is fantastic. The pining with these two is ridiculous. You just want to smush their faces together. It’s a beautiful love story.

Reclaimed by @bettsfic | 14k | E | Ughhhhhhhhhh, Reclaimed. I am so in love with Reclaimed. Alpha Ben adopts Omega Rey after she’s rescued from this terrible Alpha that held her captive for most of her life. She doesn’t talk and Ben has to help her learn to be a human being and not just a subservient Omega. This Ben is the Ben of my dreams. No contest.

the following are all written by @kylorenvevo. please read them all if you haven’t already.

landscape with a blur of conquerers | 362k | E | Y’all know this shit is fire. It’s basically the bible. If you haven’t read this yet, consider this as me yelling at you to do it NOW.

like young gods | 84k | T | fuck, the Sword of the Jedi series is incomparable when it comes to in-universe fics. I cannot begin to express how much I love this story. It’s so soft and intense and sad. Like, gut wrenchingly sad. Ben senses Rey on Jakku when she’s six and he and Luke take her back to the Jedi Academy. She grows up with Ben.

to kingdom come | 145k | M | The sequel to Like Young Gods. I’m not gonna spoil much here, but just know I cried through most of this fic. I downright SOBBED at the end. It’s gorgeous and I will never stop rereading it. The love these two have for each other... it’s unreal.

i kill giants | 34k | E | WIP | The TROS fix-it we all need. Ben is alive and finds Rey on Tatooine. It’s soft and Thea does a great job of soothing so many of the gaping wounds we were left with after TROS. My heart soars every time I read a new chapter. This is what we deserved. :(

the heartbreak prince | 58k | E | WIP | Harry Potter AU. Professor/student. Size kink. Virginity kink. ANGST. All the good things life has to offer. Professor Solo is fucking filthy in this and I (along with Miss Niima) am here 👏 for 👏 it.

place the moon at my eyes (and her whiteness shall devour) | 29k | E | Another breakup/get back together fic that I absolutely adore.

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Thank you to everyone that’s been so kind and welcoming to me the past couple of months! I love this fandom and its energy and enthusiasm and how much everyone seems to care for each other. I hope that I can continue to create content for you forever <3

#reylo fic rec #reylo #reylo fanfiction #reylo fic masterlist #follower celebration #reylo fic #reylo ff #reylo fanfiction rec

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hakasims · 3 years

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Shitty Luca Movie Recap, Episode 4

Can’t Watch Nina, Even For Luca?

Don’t Worry, Me Neither. Goodbye.

...

Ok, fine, I’ll talk about the damn thing.

So it’s a warm September night, and I’m in the mood for a Luca Marinelli feature. In my infinite wisdom I choose Nina. “It’s directed by a woman,” I reason, “and women know what’s up.” ‘What’s up’ in this particular case is code for ‘how to frame beautiful men for the female gaze’. Because women can be auteurs, too, and being an auteur means making movies about your own personal wank material.

Turns out, sometimes a woman’s wank material consists less of a gorgeous male form and more of fascist architecture. We’ll discuss the former in due time, but for now, what’s Nina even about? Well, at its core it’s a simple story about a young woman who doesn’t know what she wants, set against the backdrop of the Rome that is almost entirely empty due to most people leaving for the summer. This could have been a fairly straightforward coming-of-age film, but Nina is too indie and up its own ass for that. Literally nothing of note happens in this movie, and it’s all long static wide shots of empty streets, endless stairs, and domineering largeness of Rome’s most famous fascist buildings such as the Palace of Italian Civilization, the Sapienza University of Rome, Palazzo dei Congressi, and, most prominently, the Fountains Hall. (Google what they look like if you don’t know.) Now, I’m guessing those locations weren’t chosen by accident. They could have easily added to the creepiness of the movie — and I’m assuming creepiness was intended; otherwise how do you explain these hoverboarding nuns?

Anyway, the employment of the locations could have been atmospheric and thematic had the shots not been so bland. But they are. Bland, flat, and always looking the same no matter what is happening in the scene. Usually audiences are willing to sit through slow uneventful movies because of interesting visuals or characters worthy of attention, but Nina has neither. The titular character herself is tedious. Even her bad fashion sense is bad in a boring way that doesn’t tell you anything about her. Is she stuck in perpetual adolescence? Is she searching to get in touch with her sensuality? Who knows. The only thing I’m certain of is that she needs to learn to tuck her tops into her bottoms.

Nina spends her days giving singing lessons, going to Chinese calligraphy classes, eating cake, exercising and taking midnight walks in the empty city. She wants to go to China in September — it’s the closest thing to a goal she has — yet she’s done no preparations, and instead of learning Mandarin she’s studying calligraphy. And she’s real bad at it, too.

There are reoccurring visual elements in the movie besides the vast emptiness: stairs, white columns, a jogger, a red dress, animals… You’d think those were very straightforward symbols, but they’re used too sporadically and inconsistently to hold any meaning. For example, animals. Nina is tasked with both helping out in a pet store and house-sitting an apartment with a German shepherd (a good boy named Homer), a guinea pig and a tank full of fish. The instructions she’s given are absurd, like feeding the dog sleeping pills and putting the guinea pig on a diet. And then there’s a supposedly American TV show always playing in and out of diegesis about dogs living in cages and swimming happily in pools, and it looks and sounds like a video off the political section on the dog version of YouTube. It contains timeless classics like “You are a dog born in the age of consumerism” and “Depression is an evil illness now spreading amongst dogs of every breed, dogs belonging to every social class.” The butter commercial from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend could never. And I wish the whole movie was as surreal as this TV program but unfortunately it’s as bland and directionless as Nina herself.

And boy is it directionless. There aren’t any subplots in the movie, no cause and effect, no acts, no structure, no flow; only scenes that happen, and I can’t even find any reasons for the order in which they happen. The scenes also don’t start or end; they just interrupt each other, not leaving any emotional impact. For example, there’s a scene where Nina sees her future self. She’s on one of those midnight walks with the good boy Homer when she sees a couple being romantic. The woman is wearing a long red dress, and the man is in all black. The shot is wide, so it’s impossible to see their faces, but the woman is obviously Nina:

And the man is definitely Luca. I recognized his ass. I’m not joking, guys. It’s his ass:

Also I was later directed to the website of the photographer who took the set photos, and yes, it’s Nina and Luca.

I never forget an ass.

Anyway, Nina, who at this point hasn’t properly met Luca’s character, Fabrizio, sees herself from the future acting romantic with him, and doesn’t react. We don’t even know if she recognizes herself or him or whether it’s even a real scene or a dream. How are we supposed to empathize with a heroine who isn’t allowed to react to her environment?

Whatever, it’s time to talk about Fabrizio. He plays the cello and he’s obnoxious. That’s it. He first appears as a patron of Caffé Palombini, the real-world café Nina frequents (and buys her cakes at). She’s drinking her usual milk shake and reading. At some point, their eyes meet, but neither says anything, and then Nina gets up and runs after the good boy Homer who decided to take a little stroll by himself. She leaves all her things behind: her milk shake, her handbag, at least three books, a whole stack of paper for calligraphy, and her diary. It’s obvious she’s going to come back as soon as she gets the dog. And yet before her feet are even out of frame, Fabrizio gets up, goes to her table and fucking steals her diary!

His next several appearances are random and sporadic, and it looks like he’s stalking Nina, but by the time of his first actual scene she is following him for some reason. Obviously, he can’t let a woman outcreep him, so he ambushes her:

He tells her blankly, “You’re following me,” but I think this scene deserves better dialogue. Thankfully, we have a whole well of predator/maiden media to pull from.

Though I personally believe this is the most appropriate line:

Fabrizio lets Nina know he has her diary in the dickiest way possible: he quotes from it to let her know that he’s read it. He then informs her that he’ll only give it back to her if she continues following him. And it’s not blackmail; “it’s an agreement.” What an asshole! I’m weeping for the dignified cuckoldry of Joseph.

And what was the purpose of that “agreement” plot point if the next time they meet is by chance? Quirky love interest writing, duh. So quirky that the accidental meeting happens when Nina is walking past a phone booth where Fabrizio is… doing a phone prank? I don’t know, I got nothing. Anyway, he’s annoyed their meeting is unintentional on Nina’s part, but he returns her diary, and I guess they start dating? He watches her sing once with what could only be described as a complete absence of emotions:

In the next scene she watches him play the cello after which they go on a date. Nina is wearing the red dress from the vision, but Fabrizio’s shirt is different. I fucking give up.

Their next (second?) date is a romantic dinner on Nina’s roof, and they’re dancing for entirely too long. She then tells him she’s scared of how much she’s enjoying his company, gives him a ridiculously chaste kiss goodnight and… completely ghosts him afterwards. And if you didn’t dislike Fabrizio before, you will now as he starts calling Nina at ungodly hours (including 5:30 am) and leaving her very whiny and increasingly more passive-aggressive, entitled, and accusatory voicemails. At some point he even leaves a voicemail for the fucking dog! He’s like, “Homer, I’m worried, meet me at the café.” Again, quirky love interest writing: extortion, phone pranks and a voicemail for a dog.

Fabrizio then lets Nina know he’ll be leaving town in three days in case she’d like to see him one last time or whatever. And she never fucking does! In any other movie she’d be chasing through the airport, but here she just drops him like he’s a well-tucked shirt! She tells the kid she’s befriended (she hangs out with an eleven-year-old boy the whole movie, don’t worry about it) that she’s afraid to be “like everyone else”, with a job and a boyfriend, so she doesn’t even say goodbye to Fabrizio. At some point she goes for a walk with the good boy Homer, and Fabrizio is also there, and they just miss each other. Even fate isn’t interested in that romance.

And then all the fascist buildings get covered in gigantic paper figurines, and the red-dressed Nina runs into Fabrizio’s arms. Because of course.

Nina is one of those movies where the main theme — a struggle to grow up — is obvious, but the rest of the elements are a mess only the writer-director could decipher. And I don’t really care. Again, I had to read Japanese postmodernists at university. What I do care about is the male form I mentioned at the start. I know I have no one but myself to blame for my expectations of how the director should have framed Luca’s body or face, but it’s one thing to frame him blandly and a completely different thing to isolate him as the only character (or actor) she’s deeply uninterested in filming competently. Everyone else in the movie gets their fair share of close-ups and decent lighting whilst Luca — whose name is literally second in the credits — gets, um, neglected.

This is his introduction:

These are literally all his close-ups:

Should I even count this last one? What’s with the lighting? Like, this is as well-lit as his face gets:

Oh, the shot is too wide and you can’t see his face properly? Well, tough poop:

Are you kidding me with this shit?

Nina may not be objectively the most terrible of the movies Luca’s been in: I’d argue both Mary of Nazareth and L’ultimo terrestre are worse, as is Slam, whose time’s a-coming. Nor is it the movie where Luca appears the least (The Great Beauty’s literal one minute of screen time is saying hi). But it’s the only movie I have no reasons to watch: it’s blandly shot, poorly structured, badly themed — and it’s actively obstructing Luca’s beauty and charisma. So no matter which film you’ll ask me to do next, at least in terms of the visual component of my posts, we have nowhere to go but up.

#luca marinelli #nina #nina 2012 #sh*tty luca movie recap

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katsuflossy · 4 years

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A Doll’s Palace

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

TW: Angst, Mentions of maternal death, death, yandere themes, mentions of societal female expectations

A/n: If it wasn’t for Echo and Mix, would’ve been straight booty cheeks so omg thank y’all for helping me edit this to near perfection ❤❤❤

Taglist: @johariameil @iiminibattlehero @ecao @melanimed @mixfi

Chastity, Purity, Demureness, Divine Feminity: They built your enamored status and innocence in the kingdom of Braavos. A pure noblewoman is seen as the most remarkable feminine icon in society, and you involuntarily became the symbol that many women hated and men looked up to. A curse, your father had called it, as the most beautiful of your family is always the earliest to go, right after birth. Since then, you’ve grown to embody your mother, a face he so loved, and swore on his life that you would never die from a soul exchange as your mother did.

But your marriage with Takami Keigo? A reality every hopeless romantic maiden could only experience through dream. . King ‘Hawks’ was preferred by his people, an esteemed man that led millions to victory in battle with wit and millions of hearts to burst using charm. You were one in a million, the heart that won the golden ticket to strike the hawk’s heart.

Too bad, the reality was shared another lucky heart.

Red silks tailored to your natural measurements; the powdered innocent blush on your face was paralleled to the floor as your brain overflowed with thoughts. Your hands twirled the parchment scroll in your palms, but your eyes remembered the exact words inked on the paper. They jumbled with the script you’ve repeated since the crack of dawn. Midoriya fluttered about the room, making the bed you just laid in and unclogging the once cold bathwater made for you to look more ‘youthful.’ A simple day in the Crystal Queen’s life.

“Izuku?” Your manservant ceased his movement, eagerly giving his attention to you.

“Yes, my Queen?” His eyes tried to reach yours; however, they remained on the paper within your hands, slightly crinkled from when your restraint broke.

“You would tell me when I am wrong” Your irises slowly slid to his frame; pupils almost swallowed into the depths of your eye color. A shiver ran down his back . “right?”

“Y-yes, my Queen.” He didn’t dare to flinch under your gaze, which stared at him longer than what was comfortable. You ended your stare by closing your eyes, giving him a wide smile before rising from your love seat, slipping the parchment in your sleeve. Your steps passed straight by his still frozen figure until they had reached the door frame.

“Midoriya, my faithful servant.” Your voice echoed through the room like a skillful siren. His attention remained on you as you continued to speak.

“I want you in the main dining hall by eight on the dot. Please don’t be late.” You left before he could properly bow at your command.

The barren halls laughed at you, pricking your mentality, forming pairs of figures every few columns you passed. A maid was pressed against the left column just a while ago, arms wrapped around the pale neck of your husband, his arms around her peasant waist.

The one you just passed? The same maid laid her hands on Keigo’s face, smoothing out his goatee’s hairs, and he allowed her to.

The entrance of the dining hall up ahead held your heart’s worst fear. An exchange of breath, love, and intimacy that should be sacred between those wedded. Your mind pictured the peacock vase at the entrance shattering on your behalf, impaling the two’s skin. The imaginary screams were like wine to your ears as you finally entered the hall.

The area was warmed by the marble light of the great chandelier,everything was covered with the golden gleam, hiding the little splatters of deep red in the floor. A mint haired maid captured your attention.

“Your Majesty? I apologize, but the dining room is not finished for tonight’s dinner.” Her brown eyes stared at you nervously; her chubby cheek showed where her teeth bit into its flesh.

“Oh, no worries, I am just looking for now.” The fake smile stuck itself to your face as you examined the long dining table. Only a handful of food were fixated on the top.

“You make excellent food here, Cara. What beautiful carvings in the baby carrots.” You quirked up, noticing she stiffed at your last words.

“Of course, my work is only done best for you, y-your Majesty.” Your practiced laugh came through the room, instilling superficial relief in the maid.

“But I must ask, are you eating some as you cook? You’ve gotten wider in the last months.” Your hand took her chin; curious eyes roamed her plump face as she blushed by the attention.

“Haha, y-yes, I’ve been eating a little more than usual.” Her gaze shuffled to anywhere but you. She was such a terrible liar.

“As long as you’re not eating for two.” You threw your head back; melodious laughter exhausted your stomach pit. Cara barely joined in with her nervous laughter, face breaking red in embarrassment.

“Did I hear my little bird’s beautiful laughter?” The kingly presence broke into the room. Which one? You kept your tongue as Keigo wrapped you into a kiss, which sadly set your heart on fire. Your lips separated, trained eye watching as his own sneakily trailed to the kitchen maid. Your smile dulled before brightening .

“My King, I have exciting news for you.” Your face snuggled into his palm on your cheek. Hawks eyes gleamed like the most gilded of plates.

“Hm? Well, love, don’t keep me on my toes. Let me hear it.” You relished in his arms wrapped around your midsection before pulling out of his embrace, bopping him on the nose.

“That’s the purpose.o keep you anxious until the grand reveal.” Your smile started to burn your cheeks as you watched the room’s bustle, preparing for a grand disaster.

Violins and Cellos played throughout the dining hall as the dinner began. The long table set with food separated you and Keigo, each taking the farthest end. Playful looks and banters were exchanged between the two as the servants lined against the walls, ready for even the most subtle commands. After laughing at one of Keigo’s pun, you clapped, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Well, it was all a joyous evening, but I must bring attention to the evening’s highlight: the surprise.” Hawks quirked up in curiosity. The rest of the maids and Midoriya exchanged curious glances but did not say a word. You rose from your seat, hand gliding across the table’s surface.

“As you know, I am a lady of chastity, not by will, but by curse.” Your steps drew closer to your king.

“My father wishes nothing of seeing me carrying a little one. You, my king, are a young man, one who’s drive is active. A man who wishes to grow old with children around as you said at our first ball.” You were only a mere meter away from his seated figure, close enough to watch his adam’s apple bob in nervousness.

“Yes? But my little bird, why is this such an important announcement.”

“Be patient, my love. I am getting to that.” You were half a meter away from him now; his brow held the slightest furrow in them. Cara shuffled in the corner of your eye.

“Well, I begged my father, being of a monogamous nation, and it was hard. Harems were long abandoned in the kingdom of Braavos, but I did it.” You pulled from your sleeves the parchment paper and gave it to Keigo, whose eyes were full of anxiety. He opened the scroll to read.

“In the Kingdom of Fukuoka, the King will have the privilege of a harem, up to 20 women. He will be able to officially appear with them at balls, sleep with them, and—” his eyes flicker to you with shock before rereading what was written. “—procreate with them.”

You smiled before pointing to the end of the paper.

“Only if the Queen, rightfully crowned and inaugurated, is given the parenthood of all children birthed by the harem. The Queen will also be able to have a harem of her own, whether sexually or not.”

Hawks’ wings rose, eyes looking at you in disbelief. You lifted his face close to yours.

“Don’t worry, love. I only have eyes for you. Though,what happened to equality and freedom? The two things you fight for?” Your eyes flickered to Cara, whose face was red with anger. Keigo already took the pen from your sleeves and signed the paper.

“S-stop! This law c-can’t pass !” Her voice broke the cheery atmosphere, riddling it with confusion. The maids began to whisper frantically. You rose a brow at her outburst.

“And why is that? You have no say in royal affairs, kitchen maid.” Her eyes began to water, falling down her fat cheeks onto her fabric.

“P-please, d-don’t take my baby.” The room fell deadly silent after her plea. You ripped your hands from Hawks’ body, face morphing in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘your baby’?” Your eyes turned to Hawks, who sat silent. You could see the gears turning in his head to construct a lie.

“Hawks. What does she mean ‘your baby’?” His gears steamed before stopping abruptly, giving up on filing an excuse. His hands reached out to hold you.

“I can explain.” You moved quickly out of his range before halting him in his tracks.

“You can explain? Do you know how embarrassing that is to me? If it’s true, you’ve been cheating on me for months! Knowing that I couldn’t even bear for you!” Your heart pained you as the night you found out, reliving the shock and betrayal over again.

You were breaking character. Taking a deep breath, you turned away from your husband, a tear slowly streaking your face.

“We’ll talk about this when there aren't any spectators. Cara, bring out the special wine I’ve asked you to make for the celebration. I hope you two are happy.” Cara still stood on the spot, by fear and resistance. You turned to her; wide eyes staring straight into her soul.

“Now.” She ran to the kitchen, hand over mouth to hide her whimpers.

“Midoriya, help the pregnant lady out. It’ll be a shame if she broke her back or something.” Midoriya jumped up, running in the same direction as Cara.

“(Y/n), let me explain please—”

“There is nothing to explain; just enjoy your wine and celebrate.” The bitter sarcasm rolling off your tongue in waves. Cara and Midoriya entered the hall. Her eyes strong with will and face wiped of tears. Midoriya poured the wine for Hawks, filling his chalice to the brim. The winged king sighed and took an immediate gulp. You immediately turned to Cara, your eyes evoking sadness.

“I can’t even be in the same place as you two right now.” You stormed out of the dining room, leaving only the sounds of your shoes hitting the floor.

The candle lights flickered as Hawks entered your shared bedroom, dressed and cleaned for bed. You sat on your loveseat from the afternoon, now twirling a diamond ring on your finger. As he stood in front of you, your eyes remained on your hand.

“My love please forgive m—”

“Why?” You looked up at him; pupils dilated.

“Why should I?” He stepped back, startled to see the pain he had inflicted on you. He stared into your wide eyes for a moment longer until he knelt down, knees touching the red carpet’s wool. His hands clasped your own stopping the continuous twirl of your marriage symbol before wetting his dry lips.

“For a young royal bachelor, I was loved by all types of power-hungry men and women; they flocked me with compliments, ideas, whispers, promises. But you, you were the one that saw who I was behind my status, a young boy who lost his parents. A coward put into the place of a king before he could even blink. You saw the real me, and still, you didn’t turn away. We both embrace our vulnerabilities from each other, and if—” His Adam's apple bobbed, throat restricting as a tear fell from his eye. You shuffled in discomfort, your own tears brimming at his speech.

“—if I could take back what I had done, I would do so immediately, within a heartbeat. But she bears my child, and I...I can’t leave it as my father left me.” His neck strained to look up at you, forcing himself not to choke down a cry.

You laid your other hand on his own. Your tears were staining your cheek as you nodded your head frantically, taking him in your arms. He pulled you into a kiss, minty breath intertwining with your own as the candle flames swayed with the emotions.

The scream you let out in the morning had maids and guards rushing to your room. King Takami Keigo was found dead after you both went to sleep. Few hours from the coroner revealed he died of poison.

You walked down the winding stairs of the dungeon with Midoriya by your side. The last cell held a meager amount of light, only showing the mint green hair of Cara. She jumped at the sounds of your footsteps. You ambled up until the bars could touch your toes.

“To kill your very own king is a crime punishable by death.” She wracked in the chains, trying to get closer to you.

“I didn’t kill him! I swear it wasn’t me!”

“It wasn’t you?” You took the chalice from Midoriya, holding it up to the ceiling as if you were inspecting it.

“This was the last thing he consumed before coming to bed, so the maids say.” Your eyes turned back to the ex-kitchen maid who burst into tears; head bowed in shame.

“Everything has pointed to you, but I understand. I’d kill if the love of my life betrayed me too. I’d use the same exact poison too, Aqua Tofana, the famous poison used by many hurt women to end their lovers.” Her head creaked back to your figure, eyes widening with the growing smirk on your face.

“Although the law states you should serve immediate death, I don’t want that precious baby to go along with you. It’s my last semblance of Keigo, after all. So, as Queen of Fukuoka, I have decided to spare you until the baby has been born. You will stay in this jail cell with ample nursing so my child will be born safe and healthy. That is all.”

You and Midoriya left the dark dungeon, Cara’s screams echoing through the hollow area. Your smirk never softening as you climbed up the stairs, hand still holding Keigo's chalice.

Midoriya laid anxious the whole time. After all, he was guilty of killing the king, adding the poison to the wine when Cara wasn’t looking. His silence finally broke.

“My Queen? Why did you make me...do that?” You halted your steps, pondering as you looked at the golden chalice.

“Keigo would’ve never loved me again. She gave him what I couldn’t, a child to love. He would’ve rather played father with an actual mother, a mother who’d know how to love a child. So I had to stop that before I lost my throne.” Your fingers skimmed the actual feather-covered by gold on the cup, feeling its ridges and bumps.

“Izuku?”

“Yes, my Queen?”

“You would tell me when I’m wrong, right?

“Yes, my Queen.”

#bnha #bnha x black!reader #hawks #hawks scenarios #keigo takami #bnha keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x black! reader #bnha x poc!reader #bnha hawks

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