#and she is determined not to go to these things for some reason & i cannot change her mind

[fruit-sy]

My personal thoughts on the major themes of Penacony 2.2

I was gonna make an entire Penacony retrospective and try to really dig into the whole story, but 1. I'm not that smart and 2. It has hours of footage and I don't think I'm strong enough to parse through that and form my own conclusions

so, just the things that really jumped at me and made me pause to think. I may do surface level research to make sure if a character really said this or that, but other than that, these are my thoughts fresh after finishing the quest.

Ok, to start off: Sunday and the road to hell

He's... god, he's such a complicated and interesting little man.

He is what I would call the embodiment of the saying "the road to hell is paved with good intentions". On the surface, he is trying to make a universe which is authoritarian-like. If you peel it back a bit more, he intends to make the universe a better place. But at the heart of it, I think he's just someone who is scared of pain.

There are 3 sequences I want to break down:

The Robin-Sunday exchanges before they meet Gopher Wood

This exchange has a lot of Sunday misdirecting Robin's points, but she calls out most of it.

Robin starts off with observing the dreamscape and concludes that dreamchasers shouldn't use penacony as a means of escaping entirely from reality. Because they won't overcome their demons. She asks if this can really count as "living"

Sunday at first seems to agree that things are not the way it should be. But there's a bit of misdirection on his part. He responded to robin's question by connecting "people using penacony as an escape" with (his opinion on) the way people currently "live" (which is what he was agreeing to in "things are not the way it should be"). He will then frame the narrative to show that people completely escaping through dreams is a good thing, and then will swerve to say how the "strong" should determine the future of the "weak".

Robin understandably does not agree with Sunday's narrative, because she believes that by staying in the dream (or MAKING dreamchasers stay in the dream), it will lock dreamchasers in stasis forever, making them unable to choose how to go about their future and overcome their difficulties. She then criticizes that no one has the right to determine whether a human deserves to live for a future or not.

There's a clear difference in ideology here. Sunday's devotion to Order is so strong because the experiences in his life had led him to believe that forcing his will on other people is the way to go. His ideology is rigid, cold, impersonal and is applied to all uniformly.

Robin firmly believes in choice and refuses to let an authority govern the way people should live. She wishes to unite people through her singing, and to inspire people to live. Her ideology is more personal, uniquely applied, and is idealistic and romantic.

2. The quiz sequence

An interesting thing about this sequence is the first two questions have quite reasonable answers. At the start of it, at least.

The first question is about nurturing and letting go. I think why most of the girls agreed to put the bird in a cage is because to do something great, you must first be equipped to survive. Maslow's bottom hierarchy, if you will. i think Sunday realizes this too, and puts it into some of his points to justify making decisions on behalf of other people.

"We must teach the weak how to live a happy life"

Though, the problem is that he twists this point so much and wants to force this on everyone. This is seen when he puts everyone on Penacony in Ena's dream. This disregard for other people's input kinda reflects how he sees the bird, in a way. The bird is something below Sunday, it cannot object his actions because it is merely just a weak, injured little thing.

It is here that he experienced pain of futility. The pain of putting in effort into something but have it crash and burn in the end no matter what. Afraid of that pain, he wonders if birds are meant for the sky if some fall before they can reach it. He has a very black and white mindset about this.

Either all birds fly and deserve the sky, or if even one bird falls then no birds deserve the sky.

The second question is about a person who is being pursued by the bloodhounds. Sunday is in a position of power, and has the influence to pardon the man. As a result, the man got away, forgot about his children, and hurt the people working under him in penacony.

Though, it's worth to mention that I think it's also partly the fault of the Oak family, who didn't try to discourage dreamchasers trying to find answers or solve their personal problems in Penacony. But I believe that's intentional.

Anyways, the crux of the question, if Sunday had known the outcome of his decision from the start and he had the foresight to think that Penacony isn't a place to search for answers, I actually think upholding the law would be the best course of action here.

I think this is where he developped his fear of... consequence. Because humanity has free will, they may use his pardon from the law to do awful things. This might be why he values upholding the law so much.

Another thing to note, I think Sunday hasn't gone off too far into the deep end at this point of his life. In a previous sequence with the same scenario, he actually questions what devotion to the Order would be like, and his doubts on its way of life.

"Who can judge the strong when their power hides their crimes?"

"Who can vouch for the weak when they will pay any price to survive?"

"Who can comfort the purest souls when even they get led astray?"

It's important to note that Sunday is in a position of power and emphasizes knowing the outcome of the first two questions.

The third question is the only question where he and the other party were of near equal standing. It's where he still hasn't made a decision, and which the outcome has not yet been decided.

Sunday cares about Robin's input and feelings. He cares so much he doesn't have it in him to force her to stay for the Order.

I think this is the crack in his belief of the Order. Because he cannot stop her from trying to fly. Because he cannot apply his law indiscriminately. Because it's Robin. His sister.

He has not made a choice, and Robin has not met her end yet like he's feared.

But he's so afraid of the pain of losing her. He's so afraid it haunts him in his nightmares.

After presenting the quiz, he essentially asks the main question of penacony: "Why does life slumber?"

He answers, "Because we are afraid to awaken from our dreams."

Interestingly, this is identical to Firefly's conclusion in 2.0. The difference is, Sunday thinks his answer is universal and will force his solution on everyone, while Firefly's is just her own personal answer.

Firefly asks what the price for Sunday's paradise is, and that made me stand up and point at the screen in agreement. Because what Sunday's aiming for is an authoritarian universe.

When an authority reigns supreme that it forces its will onto unwilling citizens, all in the name of the ideal society. That's a dystopia.

As Sunday said before, who will keep the authority in check? Who can ensure that the authority will not abuse their power?

That's what's so dangerous about an authoritarian government. You can't take the risk when it comes to this. You can't just give the power to one person, no matter how righteous or nice they seem. Because like the saying goes, give them an inch and they will take a mile. You cannot afford to cross the line, because when you do, who knows how far they'll take it.

Sunday clearly sees Firefly as someone weak, kind of akin to the bird in his childhood who needs his "saving". But Firefly does not appreciate someone deciding on her behalf whether she's weak or needs saving.

3. Ode to Order

I think it's important to note Sunday really frames Ode to Order in this angelic and holy way. Hell, the music even reflects this with a more bright and heavenly choir.

"Requiem aeternam" is a prayer for souls to reach heaven, eternal rest.

(A bit of a tangent, but when I saw this in the game I SHIVERED so hard. This is such creative story telling aughh- Like, using previously established game mechanics and twisting them to become something horrifying is SO COOL. What a delightfully terrifying way to illustrate what Sunday aims to achieve.)

This illustrates Sunday's paradise as a place where everyone is forcefully "tuned" to become a certain way forever. To be manipulated with Ena's strings without their consent like puppets into a picture perfect scene.

Though, I was confused why Sunday framed this ideal society as people abandoning the need for an authority, when it was something he was pushing so hard in previous sequences.

But my interpretation is that he will spread this message, of everyone being of equal standing, but leave himself as the true leader that will stay awake to ensure everyone else is blissfully asleep.

This really ties everything together for me. Sunday is someone so self righteous but self sacrificial that he's willing to put himself high in the sky, and be aware that he will be completely alone up there.

He is afraid of pain, and will do everything to avoid experiencing it ever again.

After experiencing pain, we shouldn't be scared of it. Sure, we can escape a bit to get some reprieve, but we must tend to our wounds so that we may not only survive, but live.

That brings me to the second major theme of Penacony : Nihility, and the feeling of futility

I will be breaking down Acheron's character first.

Self annihilators/Nihility emanators are so interesting, they are beings that slowly are losing themselves thanks to their own powers of Nihility. A predetermined end.

Living for so long + Nihility actively chipping away at her being is sure to make her memories blend in together. This is why Acheron values emotions so much, because it is one of the only anchors she can use to avoid succumbing to Nihility.

Her flashbacks with Tiernan are beautifully melancholic. Their exchange starts with Acheron pondering if the task Tiernan is doing is pointless, and if he should even bother? And if the end is expected, then should they change it? It's a bit muddy, but I interpret that here, Acheron is still searching for the meaning of Nihility, and Tiernan is the person who guides the souls to the other side of the river at that time.

In the next scene, Acheron states she's holding on to whatever she can to avoid succumbing to Nihility. She had journeyed with a Nameless girl once, who wanted to explore IX. But as expected, the girl ceased to be, but left with a smile. Acheron is scared of forgetting her memories with that girl.

The only other anchor she knows is of her promise to bring more warmth to other people, to a more hopeful future where she will cut off Nihility. She associates that promise and hope with the color of red.

The next scene mirrors the first scene. I interpret it as Acheron having found the meaning of Nihility, sorta embracing it, and is now guiding others to advance towards and depart the Nihility, with Tiernan having forgotten himself.

When Tiernan asks if what Acheron does is pointless, she gave the same answer Tiernan gave her, because some things have to be done. And she's come this far without needing a point, so why should she search for one?

"May death be the end of your boundless dream... guiding you back to the waking world."

I still cannot decipher the meaning of this statement completely. As far as I know, it's said 2 times. The first is after Firefly "died", and the second is in the above exchange with Tiernan.

In Firefly's case, perhaps the "death" refers to waking up from Ena's dream at the beginning, "boundless dream" is Ena's dream, and "the waking world" is Dreamflux Reef/reality.

In Tiernan's case, I can assume the "boundless dream" is his eternal unrest, as he's still lingering in the dead sea, not yet ready to enter the abyss of Nihility. The "death" may be referring to him entering the abyss, while the "waking world" is existence, as he finds his way out of Nihility.

To bring this all together, I think Acheron in this case represents and goes against Nihility. She presents Nihility as something inevitable and predetermined (death), something that awaits everyone, and something that everyone will have to embrace at some point of their lifespan (boundless dream).

But she also believes that one shouldn't wholeheartedly embrace Nihility. in the face of Nihility, we must do everything to take in the world around us and remember what makes us exist. She believes there is a way out of Nihility, and that is existence. (waking world)

In the face of futility, if everything really did have a predetermined end, I believe we should still try to make choices. Despite it being "pointless", I think that's what gives meaning to our existence. Otherwise, we risk succumbing to Nihility.

That's why when the trailblazer finally uttered their own choices, I felt shivers. One, because this shows the development of TB's character, and two because TB will do what they have to, they will never be content living in a dream, and they choose to continue in the face of "futility", despite the ending of their journey being predetermined.

In the face of futility, Sunday chooses to eliminate pain and choice out of the equation, only choosing to create a universe that's stuck in a mindless, blissful stasis. Because he is anticipating pain.

But sometimes, the anticipation is worse than the actual pain itself. He is also eliminating the element of choice, with the assumption that people will not be able to survive when they are facing futility.

But, Acheron's words really struck me.

In the face of futility, pain, and pressure humans may freeze in fear. But that innate survival instinct in humans might push them to fight and claw themselves out to save themselves. By removing the choice to fight for their lives, they won't have the choice to fight off Nihility.

To end this, I would like to go back to main question of Penacony

"Why does life slumber?"

And I think TB answers this beautifully.

"Because we will wake from our dreams."

Life slumbers to find reprieve from the harsh reality. But slumbering does not give us the solution to our problems, only recharging us to prepare for the waking world once more. And in the waking world, even if what we do is futile, we still have a choice in how we want to reach for the end.

#Fruit talks #Holy shit this is probably tangent-y and disorganized as hell but here's my insane ramblings for the month #Idk if this made sense but these are the things that made me feel strongly in 2.2 #I may have missed some points but feel free to shout at me in the comments or reblogs

[laurasimonsdaughter]

“The first thing you need to know,” the stable master announced loudly to the gaggle of school children trailing behind her, “is that these are not unicorns.”

Eleven-year-olds tended to be loud. Their silent scepticism was deafening.

“You cannot keep unicorns in captivity,” she continued. “These are all crossbreeds, mostly with specific breeds of horses.”

There was a small murmur of curiosity and a gangly arm shot up into the air.

“Yes?”

“Only mostly horses?”

It was always fun when some of them paid close attention. “Only mostly horses. I only deal with European breeds, and they tend to cross well with horses. See this here is a cross between a grey Thoroughbred and an English Unicorn. They’re large, and reasonably docile.” They also had that champagne sheen most showy folk preferred. “For people who come here looking for a steed, this is their best bet. Although I've only ever seen it done by people who personally broke them as yearlings.”

By now she definitely had the whole class’s full attention.

“But this French Licorne cross is actually half fallow deer.” She gestured to the pasture beyond the fence. “Look at them. Slight build, slender legs, built for speed and agility. They need a lot of space but they are beautiful to look at, and they’re relatively easy to tame for the pure of heart.” There was still something distinctly deer-like about them and they were all so beautifully cream coloured that they almost took on a silver hue.

“What’s those hairy ones?” a voice piped up.

“That’s a Unicorno/Shetland mix, from central Italy. Traditionally they tend to be crossed with Monterufolino, but they are hard to come by and make their coats even darker.” Unicorni were naturally built more like ponies, some with considerably shorter horns, and their coats were often a much darker gold, or even brown. They were less flighty than the French breeds though, even if they showed blatant favouritism towards certain caretakers. They would even pull a carriage if properly motivated.

“Do you have any bigger ones?”

The stable master turned around. “What was that?”

One of the boys was standing behind her with a determined look on his face. “Do you have any like that but bigger. With the beards and the furry hooves.”

“Feathering,” she corrected automatically and the boy nodded eagerly. She frowned. “What exactly do you mean?”

“There’s really big unicorns,” he pressed. “With wild manes and tails and split hooves like the French ones but hair like those ones!”

“Buddy,” she laughed, “what you’re describing there is a Scottish unicorn and let me tell you, they cannot even be crossbred into domestication.”

The little face fell.

“Any offspring of an Aon-adharcach will be as wild as they are no one can capture them with their horn still intact, not on your life. You go near one of them with a halter and it will skewer you.”

She smiled at the boy, who still looked rather taken aback, despite this proof of his favourites superiority.

“Tell you what. If you want to see something unhinged and imposing, I’ll take you to see the Eenhoorn/Friesian cross we’ve just got in from the Netherlands.”

#unicorn #urban fantasy professionals #laura drabbles #I had to get the idea of different types of unicorns out of my head #I am generalising but there are definitely differences between how unicorns were depicted in different countries #this thing did not want to get written and the first draft had a completely different plot #I'll put that on my kofi for fun

[idkhow-butyoufoundme]

holy fuck i just got the most passive aggressive email from a teacher

#parent teacher conference thing was today and apparently my mother wasnt the only one who didnt book because #‘im sitting here waiting at the PT conference many of you didnt bother to make an appointment for :)’ #yes she actually added the smiley face #im sorry what the fuck makes her think we have the authority to force our parents to take their time to go sit & talk to the teachers? #also most of them have jobs??? why should they be expected to use a day off for this??? #they literally gave us *one* day & we just had to choose the times #and she thinks it’s unreasonable that not everyone was able to go on this one specific weekday between 3-8pm??? #and idk if anyone else was in this position but. personally?? #my mother did not have work or anything at that time. she easily couldve gone. but she didnt (and never has) because she doesnt like them. #which is perfectly understandable #but it literally isnt my choice. i have no power to go up to her and say ‘hey you need to go to that’ #bc being a teacher she knows the legal stuff and knows she doesn’t actually have to go if she doesnt want to #no matter how much the school might insist #and she is determined not to go to these things for some reason & i cannot change her mind #but now i have to deal with this bullshit

[fruity-fruition]

I NEED more angry Saki content at this point. GENUINELY.

Guys, I love Tsukasa, Shiho, and Honami with all my heart but I desperately need Saki to finally let out all her anguish.

Shiho and Honami were middle schoolers, you can't blame them, but so was Saki. I love how bright she is, how bubbly, but for the love of god you just know she had some sense of betrayal when Ichika was the only one who appeared constantly.

I want Saki to stand before Honami and Shiho, trying her best to act as her usual self, but finally breaking down and telling them how hurt she was when they never replied to her text. When Ichika kept saying "they'll visit soon" because she knows they never will. How she felt so alone in that hospital room, missing two of her best friends and being so far away from home.

I don't want their friendship to wither, but I have her to be angry because she has every right to be. I want her to hold a grudge, and I want her to feel hurt because she cannot move forward without acknowledging how shitty the cards she was dealt were.

Again, I'm not saying it was Honami and Shiho's fault. They were middle schoolers, they were scared. they were children who didn't know how to cope with their friend being so far and so out of reach. But that didn't mean they weren't wrong. Saki has every right to feel abandoned, because in her eyes, she was.

And Tsukasa. This is a different betrayal, because he treats her like glass. Again, it's not his fault, because for a good while, she basically was. She couldn't go out, she couldn't move around, she couldn't do most things. And he saw her through all of it. Of course he'd be scared for her, of course he'd be wary about it.

But Saki's so tired of being treated like this. She wants to move on, to keep going, to feel normal but she can't do that when everywhere she goes, it's a constant reminder. I want her to lash out, not being she's in the right, but because she's a teen who's childhood was torn away from her.

I want to see Saki snap, I don't even want it to be for a right reason. She could be totally in the wrong, yelling at her brother for caring and trying to make sure she's okay, but she's tired of being reminded she isn't a normal teen. So she lashes out, because she's hurt.

Saki's feeling of betrayal towards Tsukasa reaches another part too, with Tsukasa refusing to trust her the way she trusts him. Tsukasa never opened up to her, being so determined to be the reliable older brother. She's not stupid. She sees what he's doing. She knows something is up, that something is wrong. He's hiding something from her, and it pisses her off that she most likely will never know what.

She feels like he doesn't trust her. She feels like her just being younger is burdening him. That he thinks she can't handle it because she'll always be the "younger fragile sister". She is wrong, and he's never seen her as such, but she feels. That's the whole thing here.

I just want my girl to be able to finally feel and not squash everything down. She'll have to accept the consequences of her actions, but she'll grow from it after, that's for certain. Because she's not going anywhere if she keeps ignoring it and just smiles through (Tenma Sibling trait apparently...)

GOD Saki Tenma I LOVE YOU.

#pjsk #project sekai #saki tenma #tenma saki #prsk #proseka #prosekai #l/n

[dadsbongos]

i eat your skin - f.megumi

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - cunnilingus (fem reader), title sounds like vore smut but it isn't i promise word count - 3.7 K / rating - R

Megumi braces his hands on his knees, brows pinched tight in preemptive annoyance. Satoru spindles over him, shadowing the younger man almost completely - and it only serves to irritate Megumi that he’d refused to sit down. Furiously determined to forever humiliate his former pupil, Megumi assumes.

Or, he would, if Satoru hadn’t actually agreed to give him advice about a little… situation.

“Alright, now when you see her, look at me- seriously, look at me, Megumi,” Satoru’s face is lethally drawn, usual bright grin tugged low and serious with furrowed brows to match, “Megumi, you cannot let her intimidate you,” Megumi opens his mouth, a vile retort slithers back down his throat when Satoru interrupts, “No, I know you, and you’ll feel all sick,” he mocks a frown, even pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, “You’ll get all nervous. But you cannot let her intimidate you out of it.”

“I’ll hardly die asking her out,” Megumi rolls his eyes, one hand lathering the sweat in his palms against his sweatpants and the other scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe this just isn’t a good idea…”

“And what? Be a miserable wimp the rest of your life?” Satoru folds his arms across his chest, “You’ve liked her since you were first years.”

“And?”

“You’re graduates now!”

“So?”

“‘So,’” Satoru mimics Megumi’s sulking nature, voice deep and neanderthal-ish in nature, “Be greedier, kid!” he flicks the younger man’s forehead, “You’ll die one day. You’ll die. Whether it be on a mission, or in your hospital bed as a diseased old man - you can’t stop it. So, why deprive yourself of something you really want when it all ends the same?”

Megumi can’t exactly pinpoint the reason he even came to his old legal guardian for help over, say, Nanami. He definitely should’ve gone to Nanami, at least he could’ve given Megumi genuine advice that isn’t some children’s show morale of “just tell her how you feel!” - he could’ve done that any day.

When Megumi opens his mouth to protest, Satoru flicks him again.

“You think your special one,” Megumi gags loudly at the title, and Satoru pays it no mind, “is gonna sit around her entire life not having fun and being young? Getting dates?” Satoru nods to himself when Megumi doesn’t reply, “Duh.”

“I want this to be special,” Megumi insists, both hands coming to rest in his lap now, he squeezes them together, lacing his fingers and imagining how yours would look with him instead, “I want- “

He wants and wants and wants and does nothing.

He needs to be someone you simply can’t fathom saying no to, he needs it so bad his stomach churns just like Satoru said it would.

“Alright, I know it can be difficult for you - not being me, after all,” a large hand claps on Megumi’s shoulders and he looks up to see the beaming face attached, “But trust me, kid, this whole idea of a ‘special’ confession is archaic bullshit compared to just being yourself.”

“I thought girls liked special confessions?”

“Sexist: not all girls automatically like the same things,” his former teacher shakes his head, sighing out each disappointed fiber trapped in his soul, “And if she doesn’t accept a plain, Megumi-style date proposition, then her shock and awe over a sick-as-hell graphic novel confession isn’t going to make for a healthy relationship.”

“Hm,” Megumi bites back frustrated curses, taking the words and molding them into a more conventional way that actually makes sense. He nods, “Okay.”

“Exactly,” Satoru stands back, giving Megumi room to rise from his bed, “Oh, but one thing that does help?” the older man grins wickedly, “Eat her out. Direct line to a woman’s heart is through eating her pussy.”

“Shut up,” Megumi huffs, pointing at his wide-open bedroom door, “Shut up. Shut up and get the hell out.”

“Jeez,” Satoru yanks at the already loose collar of his plain black shirt, “I thought we left teen angst behind. Just give it some thought! And also, I wanted to ask- “

Megumi huffs, falling back onto his bed, still pointing at the door.

“If,” and in true fashion, Satoru continues, maybe even a little louder (just to prove a point), “you wanted to watch a movie?”

“No,” Megumi immediately answers.

“C’mon! It’s this or paperwork I have to do.”

Megumi’s eye roll gives Satoru no more room for pleading, and so he stalks back to the living room. Dragging his socked feet over a shaggy black rug towards the door, he takes a final peek over his shoulder at the boy on his bed. Stupid mouth in a stupid pout and stupid nose forcing stupid crocodile sniffles, Satoru acts out a picturesque performance. And if his blindfold were off, Megumi is certain he’d catch big blue eyes framed by batting white lashes.

“No, “ Megumi rolls his eyes again, “‘m going out.”

…

Blushy top with faded blue bell bottoms and a shiny, thin chain that dangles across your chest, Megumi’s eyes flit away from your figure just as quick as they’d found you. Everything’s a little murky under the purple LEDs, but he thinks you’ve worn that before. He thinks you’re somehow more beautiful now. He looks away, snaking through a narrow, picture-framed hallway at Yuuji’s back to this house’s kitchen. There are no light strips strapped across the kitchen walls, simple and plain and unflattering fluorescent bulbs send a gentle cream wash over the walls.

With only a handful of straggling bodies leaning against peeling-edged faux wood cabinets and spotted countertops, there’s more room to breathe than in the hall. Red Solo cups from every teen movie nightmare decorate hands and unnerving corners. Some more anxious part of him wants to reach out and push every precarious ruby further back into secure landing, but he doesn’t.

Two women in complimentary spaghetti strap dresses flounce out of the kitchen with looped arms. They’re sunk into the plum tank until Megumi can’t see them at all anymore.

“Oh, like that!” you muse, nudging your chin towards a pair in matching floral print dresses that reach about mid-thigh, “Exactly my point.”

“That’s hardly 70s influenced,” the man in front of you - Jirou? Junto? Jouji? you don’t really recall - shakes his head, “Just flowers.”

“No, no, look at the trim,” you’re trying your hardest not to point but this guy just cannot pinpoint the details in your mind to save his life, “It’s flowy and mesh. Sort of. That’s a little more flower child era, right?”

“I guess, if your only experience in that fashion was movies,” you huff at the response and he laughs in the face of such exasperation.

“Whatever! You’re so difficult.”

“Hobby,” it’s so plain out of his lips. Like you should somehow be expecting that snark.

“Oh my God…” you can hardly believe someone could be so obtuse. A contrarian just for the fun of it, “And are you normally invited to parties for that?”

“Oh, no,” his tone, again, betrays some delusion that you should already know the answer, but this time you do already know. Who invites a conversation killer to an event? “I got dragged here by a friend. Don’t even know who the host is.”

You snicker, one hand smothering the sight of your mouth, “That makes more sense.”

Megumi can see the hand that binds, you usually don’t string it up around those you’re close with. Like Yuuji and Nobara and Maki and Miwa from Kyoto and your friends that live closer to the coast and the friends that don’t and your parents and him. So you’d think he’d know better than to let a big, gangly, clawed, green beast sprout and grow and suck away at his gut.

Even though that hand is a sign of some rising desire to be out of that conversation, he still hates being across the room when it happens. Because that’s still some semblance of a shining star behind the flesh. Some laugh or smile he’s not next to.

And it isn’t like he hates when you’re out with others. What he hates is being in the same room with someone potentially more captivating than he is.

He hopes you like him best because he’s the most familiar and drawing, and it’s disturbing when someone else might be more homely and more charming and more absorbing. He hates the curdling illness of jealousy and he hates to be this way when you two aren’t even together, but most of all he hates that maybe you’ll prefer someone else simply because they’re better at his craft than he is.

So Megumi watches and rots quietly with thick, spindling vines spreading and tangling him to the kitchen doorway as you talk to a guy whose name he doesn’t know. It’s pathetic and waning most unbearably.

“Stop staring, it’s weird,” Yuuji chastises, chunking part of his weight against Megumi’s side, an elbow shelved on Megumi’s shoulder, “Just go up and say something, if you wanna talk to her.”

“Yeah, it’s that easy,” Megumi jerks through the vines and into the hungry waters of a living room party with a snapping, starved crowd before finding the optimal spot: a plain wall with no posters or pictures to snag and smack down.

Yuuji trails after, his white shirt reflecting a blinding shade of lavender from beneath his puffer jacket. Much easier to track down than Megumi’s gloomy, funeral-grade attire. Yuuji capitalizes on the empty space so ugly at Megumi’s side, staking claim to the wall with a huff, “It is, by the way. You two are friends. Go tell her you’re here.”

“But then I’d have to,” Megumi’s mouth zips shut, head tilting as he snakes a hand through some imaginary crowd.

“I guess,” Yuuji wants to shake Megumi at times like this. He wants to shake you too, sometimes. But mostly he imagines squeezing Megumi’s shoulders and smacking him around, but he never does.

Maybe just the first part.

All out of love.

“Okay,” so Yuuji pivots, swerving in front of his best friend and taking one shoulder in each hand, “You need to do something or you’re going to sit here and be pouty, dude.”

“I’m not pouty.”

“Biggest lie in Tokyo, brother,” Yuuji purses his lips, eyes flitting to where you are, “I’ll get her over here if you really don’t want to.”

“Hm?” Megumi’s brows furrow, neck craning closer as if he could somehow mishear the man.

“Just pretend to be busy or some shit and I’ll brave the crowd,” Yuuji goes to walk away, suddenly pausing and placing a hand over Megumi’s heart, “And if I don’t return, sing songs for me by a nice lake every anniversary.”

“Whatever,” Megumi knocks away the hand but is already pulling out his phone to perform the charade. His eyes lock onto the screen and he soldiers on to not rip them away and give slight that this was planned.

…

“Do you think I could maybe get your number?”

“Oh!” no, God no - you wish you were better at saying that, “Uh,” it’s not even as if you dislike this guy, you just don’t think any conversation with him could amount past what it has.

Wow, you’re a pain in the ass! Yeah but it’s funny, right? Not if it’s on purpose. Especially if it’s on purpose! Sure, if that’s what you think. You do think it’s funny, right? Sure. Come on, it is! Sure.

And dry replies make you want to claw your eyes out more when you have to give them than when you receive them.

So when the bony fingers of Yuuji creep upon your side, it’s like the first drink of water after sifting through thick bowls and hills of sandy desert. He leans his head down into your peripheral, grinning brightly, “Miss me?”

“Yuuji!” you cheer, turning to… Junsei? and laying a flat palm under Yuuji’s chin, “This is my buddy, who I didn’t know was coming.”

“I texted you,” he pinches your side, “Fushiguro’s busy, so I’m fetching you for the night,” and you wonder if he might feel the stiffness of your muscles and the rigid air, “Sorry, man, but she’s got serious business tonight!”

“Oh,” Junzo! Junzo’s forehead crinkles, nose wrinkling at the bluntness of this cocky new stranger, “Uh…”

“See you around,” maybe it’s a lie, maybe it isn’t. You wave and let Yuuji keep you pressed to his side. You wait until you’re certain the surrounding affairs of other people drown whatever you could say to Yuuji, “Thank you for that. He was asking for my number and I just didn’t know what to say…”

“No,’” he shrugs.

“Oh, like you could’ve done that.”

“I could’ve!”

But Yuuji can do anything, so that isn’t fair.

“‘gumi!” you cheer upon getting close to the boy, arms splaying wide before wringing yourself around his neck, “I was worried you weren’t coming!”

He hesitates before having the misfortune to hear Satoru’s words once again. Be greedier. Be greedier. So he gently settles both hands on your back, pushing you chest-to-chest, “Yeah, well, Itadori wouldn’t let me stay in.”

“Poor baby,” you step back, and Megumi takes notice in how you maintain your hands’ position over his shoulders, nails picking at fluff on his shirt.

Megumi, regrettably, can still hear Satoru in the back of his head. Greedier, greedier, greedier. It chokes him up, the idea of selfishly taking you for himself. But what really grips him is the terrible way your gaze flits from his face to other men - unintentionally, he’s sure. But it drives him wild all the same.

“I hate big parties,” Megumi boldly cradles the bend of your waist with his hand, fingers splaying wide over the curve. He tugs you closer, thighs nearly brushing, “Crowd’s a pain in the ass.”

“Ah, no, c’mon, what’s that Great Gatsby quote?” who’s to say, he hasn't read that book, “‘I like large parties. They’re so intimate…’” you shrug, bottom lip tugging between your teeth when he doesn’t show any recognition, “‘At small parties there isn’t any privacy.’”

“You actually remembered that shit?”

You titter coyly, “Maybe I saw it on one of those book quotes videos. Maybe I remembered it.”

“Well, it’s a stupid quote. There’s too much noise at big parties, it’s hard to hear people.”

“You hear me just fine,” that’s just because he’s leaning closer and trying harder than he does for most people, “Besides, I like it. At big parties you can just fuck off and do your own thing, you know? At small parties there’s this expectation to be around everyone and interact with everyone and be having fun with the group.”

Finally, it seems to click, he nods slowly, “You like to get away from the crowd?”

“Yeah,” you scratch the side of your arm, then your neck, and it’s so odd how just thinking about how uncomfortable your skin is that you can get so itchy, “Hard to do that when the crowd’s five people and a dog.”

“Well,” Megumi can feel Yuuji’s stare, and it takes everything in him to not knock the kid up his skull, “If you wanna get away, I’m sure - uh,” he’s suddenly humiliated by his own hubris, “I’m sure there’s room… upstairs…”

You grace him with a patient nod, hands lowering from his shoulders to lace your fingers together, “I’m sure there is.”

…

“So…”

“So…”

Megumi nods, head slowly tilting so he’s staring up at you through his long lashes, “So.”

You lean closer, shoulder pressing and nose bumping against his, “So?”

The heat from Megumi’s cheeks wavers over you, his flesh ripe with crimson. You want to bite him. Leave a terrible mark that he couldn’t possibly cover up; maybe he’d let it bleed through his dark shirt. Maybe he’d let you lick it clean.

“You look nice,” he tucks his face down, heated skin now flush against your top. His brows furrow, uncertain, “Really nice.”

Megumi wonders what Satoru or Yuuji would do. They’re greedier than him by nature. More outgoing.

They would’ve done something years ago.

Suddenly, you grin. All sharp teeth and nails pricking over his thigh, through his pants. Your eyes stare down at him over the bridge of your nose, and you lean closer - smothering any space he’d initially put between your bodies.

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

Megumi’s eyes widen, warmth beating over his face and the back of his neck. He flails for a response, trapped under your piercing gaze, before finally settling on a response that he hopes pleases you.

“Do you want me to?”

You frown; something in his chest stings, a chord pulled awry. The tug of your lips is all a ploy, a mesmerizing color to disguise venom, “Don’t you want to, ‘gumi?” you pull away, leaning back with your hands pressed to the mattress below, “Don’t you want me?”

A cold breeze from this stranger’s open window takes up residence across Megumi’s sweltering skin. He hates it. He wants to get up from the bed altogether and slam the window shut. He wants to take you in both hands and sink himself into the softness of your skin. He thinks you’d be savory.

He wants to be certain.

So both of his hands mold to your hips, melting his exposed skin to yours.

Fingers dipping into the waistband of your bottoms, he bats his eyelashes and tucks his lower lip between fangs. He may draw blood. He cares not.

The oxygen is thin; hardly refreshing.

Megumi swallows the pooling want on his tongue, his fingers twitch against you, “Can I- “

“‘gumi…” you flatten yourself onto your back, hips tilting up into his palms, “Show me you want me.”

“Okay,” Megumi nods, air forced out of his throat through swollen hunger, “Okay.”

Once he’s gotten your pants off, Megumi presses open kisses against the inside of your thighs, following the swell to its natural apex. He digs the jab of his nose into you, lips impolitely fluttering against the seat of your panties before dipping his tongue out. Lolling the soft, soaked muscle over the clinging fabric, he feels his chest clench at how you rock your hips down into his face.

He feels one of your hands wind into his messy hair, carding through the softness. He wants to make you tug it - pull cruelly and grind against his face. Take what he gives and selfishly demand more.

Megumi groans heartily into your clothed cunt when the slickness of his saliva pulls your wetness from the cloth; when the unabashed taste of you meets his tongue.

He nearly rips your panties down your legs, settling it in a ball at his side. Heart leaping up into his jaw at the mere thought of getting his tongue into you.

Laving his tongue between your folds, Megumi licks up to your clit and circles the bud - his hips jerking down into the plush mattress when you jolt up and tug his hair. He pulls his head back only to pucker his lips and drool onto your hole, adding to the sloshing wetness before steadying his shaky fingers against you.

Sucking your clit into his mouth, Megumi begins softly. Caressing the bundle of nerves with his warm tongue, blending flat, broad strokes with precision dances of the muscle over you. Meanwhile, he slicks his middle finger into your hole and moans in response to your gasp.

When he’s sure you’re wet and stretched enough, he adds a second finger and curls them both upwards. The muscles in his arm will be aching tomorrow, but he shoves that to the back of his mind. He presses and scissors and dips inside you until the pads of his fingers find sponge, and he hits there, and there again. And again. And again. And again.

He hits there until you’re fully babbling, gushing against his swollen, pink lips and chin. And he’s starting to babble back.

Vibrations are loosely strewn together as ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘cum on me’ are bound against your clit as he nuzzles closer into your heat. Burying himself between your thighs and finding himself releasing a moan into your cunt when your thighs clenched tightly around his head. The fat of your thighs snug over his ears.

Releasing your clit from between his lips with a soft ‘pop’, Megumi flays his tongue onto the exposed nerve. Hot puffs of air leave him with each groan and whimper as his desperation to make you cum hammers over him.

Finally, you yank his hair again and snap your hips into his tongue; cunt sucking his fingers in even deeper. You squeeze around him, back arching, and his name singing from your lips.

Megumi unfurls his fingers as your cum splashes out onto his waiting tongue and chin, riding you through the hurls of pleasure until your twitching legs crash back onto the mattress. Slowly, he slides his fingers out of you before licking up your excess release from the divots in your thighs and your cunt.

Unwinding your fingers, you settle for soothing his stinging scalp with gentle pets.

Eventually sitting up, Megumi gasps for air as you do, staring down at his fingers. Shining with your wetness.

“Still hungry?” you tease, voice ripped at the edges.

“Actually?” Megumi shrugs, “A little.”

The cocky air has dissipated from your body. Once tense and lively limbs were now useless against the bed.

Megumi jams both fingers into his mouth and sucks off your cum.

“Insatiable!” you huff.

Rouge has overtaken Megumi’s cheeks - worse than before - and he can’t meet your eyes after having swallowed what remained of your soak. He leans over onto his elbow to avoid crushing you, “Only when it’s you… I don’t,” he waves his hand around, “do this often…”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Megumi has to hide his grin, almost embarrassed to enjoy being praised, choosing to take up time looking around the room you’d shoved him into.

Idol posters with one constant member litter the walls. Pink concert tickets cover the desk. And many pictures with the same two people overwhelm Megumi’s sight. He feels an unsettled chill scrawl over his skin.

“Todo is going to kill me,” he grimaces.

“Was it worth it?”

Megumi doesn’t take long to respond, already trying to think of where and when he can get you under him again, “Definitely.”

Megumi’s proper death is drowning via punani tsunami *thumbs up emoji*

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #megumi x you #megumi fluff #fushiguro smut #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen movie marathon event

[eveledoze]

spoilers for ep7 ! things about N and Uzi i wanted to point out 1/? I may sound stupid and naive going into all these details, so I'm sorry

we all thought that he was looking at Uzi worriedly, but in reality he was shocked because the elevator was broken and because now the path to V was blocked. he's really worried and angry about it (and it's so unusual to see him like that)

Tessa tells him to look back and at first he looks angry, but then his face softens. for a moment he simply forgot what state Uzi was in cuz he was worried about V (we know that now this Tessa is not exactly Tessa, but I will call her that cuz it’s convenient for me and so as not to get confused)

Uzi realizes that she has poor control over her powers and bitterly admits that she cannot do anything. she sincerely apologizes and you can hear that she feels guilty from her helplessness + exhausted from pain this short moment honestly killed me- their voice intonations, words and music, it hits so hard (thank you AJ Dispirito! /mega pos) also i find it strange that at first there was no blood, then it appeared cuz of something (even though she doesn’t even have a crack in her visor like Doll) and then the blood disappeared

but well okay-

he sincerely apologizes, feeling guilty for his inattention to her well-being, and he comes to comfort her, his body language shows this but Tessa interrupts them

Tessa calls him to explain to Uzi what's going on (lmao his face)

he rubs his hands together, which indicates his nervousness, as he realizes that his words will make her more worried and terrified of what they might find out and see, so this will make the situation worse

you can hear from the tone of Uzi's voice that she is beginning to suspect that they know more than she does, and for some reason they are not telling her this. she seems annoyed at the withholding of information, causing her to lose trust in Tessa and N

he looks at Tessa as if doubting whether he can be frank in his words, since in essence Tessa is still his boss and he should not contradict her (why does the reflection of his eyes in her spacesuit look funny to me lol)

he says this in a determined voice, while frowning. the words “we're not gonna hurt you” are addressed to Uzi while N’s gaze and gestures are interpreted as “WE'RE not gonna hurt HER” (while pointing his hand at Uzi) and this is addressing to Tessa. he clearly expresses his position and does not intend to obey Tessa in this in fact (he is rebelling)

with this "Okay?" he tries to reassure Uzi that they really won't hurt her honestly, the tone of voice with which he said it reminded me a lot of the way he said "we'll ask Tessa, okay?" in ep5, when he addressed Cyn. in both cases, his "Okay?" sounds sincere, kind, letting them know that he will keep his promise

she is scared and barely audibly says it, losing more trust in them while the fear grows

Uzi is nervous, she loses control and creates a null, everyone moves back, by the way Tessa takes out her sword

they repel each other. despite the falling stones, N reaches out to take her hand and pull her towards him

he takes a step forward, "we'll figure this out, together?.." but she steps back, losing trust in him

stones fall and block the passage, separating them from each other she closes herself off from him in every sense

when he woke up, he immediately called her and it sounded quite desperate and creepy cuz of the echo

N sees that his hand is crushed by stones. with a cold look, he takes out the blade and approache it to the hand, saying that he "deserved this", since he offended Uzi and believes that it would be right if he was punished for it. she experienced pain - he will experience pain, justice

#NUZI ANGST GOD DAMMIT #murder drones #murder drones ep 7 #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuit bites #evele stuff #my kooky rambling

[flor4de4amor]

may we please PLEASE PLEASE please get more aviator!abby???? she’s so yummy & i need her so bad..

welll if you wannttttt ofcccc!! this is totallyyy not based off of today’s events. if only i had abby around </3

click for palestine | don’t buy tlou | read b4 engaging

the toilet is broken and it's been ruining your fucking day. the stupid handle is too loose and you're determined to fix it yourself. it's far too embarrassing to ask the other wives on base to use their toilet. word spreads far too fast. everyone's gonna think abby doesn't care for you. and that is far from true! she cares about you so much, you think you're gonna suffocate in her love.

which is part of the reason you wanna fix this stupid waste of space in your bathroom. abby takes care of you everyday, and she works hard and long all day. it wouldn't be fair for her to come home to a broken toilet. (sometimes she sits there doing buisness, while playing wordle, and keeping conversation with you as you shower. you'd hate to break routine.) but you've been knelt over twisting screws, fiddling with pliers, and banging your head against the wall for the past few hours. for a matter of fact, youtube is not helpful! in fact, when abby gets home, you're informing her of a the anderson housewide youtube ban. stupid fucking site. waste of space on the web. killed away at your day with useless hacks anyway.

you're so caught up on cursing at the tablet, your cat pawing at your toes, the stupid fucking toilet, and don't forget swearing the wind, that you don't hear abby's heavy footsteps. you normally greet her at the door with plenty of love. whenever you're not waiting for her, it normally means trouble. means that she better make your stiff couch, real comfortable tonight. and no, she cannot steal any souvenirs from your normally shared bed. she must make do with some throw pillows and a teensy tiny blanket.

you think that you've almost got the issue sorted out when she catches you redhanded. her arms snake around your waist from behind causing you to drop your tools and squeal. your cat screeching at the commotion. abby clicks her tongue at the grey streaked animal. bane of her existence. you thrash in her arms for a minute, until she kisses your cheeks and you're able to inhale her scent. "relax pretty, it's just me."

you huff, and turn around facing her sweet face. "you're an asshole." you don't mean it. but, she's just made you almost shit your pants while your toilet is totally broken. fair reaction, if you may say so yourself.

"you don't mean that," she smiles. her thumb goes to wipe sweat off your forehead. "what's going on here that you're wielding serious machinery?" she eyes the discarded plier and screwdriver.

you slide up to the sink, settling your spine against the cool faucet. your cat following in suite, jumping up into your lap, effortlessly. you coax, him, in your laps, scratching behind his ears, while speaking to your wife. "toilet's fucking broken." you groan, "i've spent all day trying to fix it." abby eyes the loud video playing in the counter of the bathroom corner. she goes to shut off the tablet, sensing your agitation.

"why didn't you call me? or a plumber?" her hands rub your thighs gently, trying to soothe you.

"despite what the haters say," you laugh softly to yourself, "i can do things."

she looks you up and down with a look of doubt in her eye, "i know you can." she plants a sweet kiss on your lips to reassure you before planting the real stuff. she pulls away stroking your cheek, "just not this type of stuff."

you roll your eyes and scoff. "ok well, a girl can try."

she smiles, "yeah lets, not anymore." she smiles and leans away slightly, eyeing the damage you've done to the commode. you pinch her bicep for her sly comment. she grunt in a pained response. her hands grip your wrist, not too tight, she'd never hurt you. "listen here girly," she threatens emptily, before releasing your wrist. her fingers tickle at your sides with carefree joy.

"is it fixable?" you ask. you feel awful.

that cocky smile of hers finds its way to her dopey face. "for the average joe? meh," she shrugs her shoulders. "for me?" she boasts, "definitely fixable, pretty. don't worry." she plants another kiss on you. when she pulls away, abby wipes her hands on the sides of her uniform khakis. she kneels to the base of the toilet, and assess the damage closer. "i think i found the problem baby."

"what is it?" you stroke the feline in your lap.

"you've been using all the wrong tools hon," she remarks offhanded while digging around blindly for her toolbar that's got her initials monogrammed onto the front.

"you're a tool," you say under your breathe.

"heard that!" abby says from down below. she chuckles softly, but doesn't let you hear.

"love you baby!" you reply back, a smile fixed to your lips.

"suck it, anderson," she grunts back while tightening a bolt or something. whatever the hell she was doing down there.

"maybe later," you laugh sweetly.

"sounds good to me," abby replies rather quick.

"shut up and fix the toilet anderson!" you say in a fit of giggles.

"yes ma'am," your cornball of a wife replies, while making a complicated task look easy. she's impossible to hate, and so easy to love.

#written by lina ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #sofie ♡ #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x you #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader #abby the last of us #aviator!abby #aviator!abby x reader #aviator!abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x black reader #abby anderson x black!reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #latina!reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou2 #ellie williams tlou #tlou hbo #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou part 2 #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams the last of us

[wholoveseggs]

girrrllll, i got another idea! how about Elijah proposing to a reader? it could be angsty in the beginning, maybe they got into a fight because she feels like he always puts his family before her, so he proposes to her to show her she is his family too (and cause he was planning on doing that for a while anyway). and it’s all emotional, she’s not believing what’s happening and she’s thinking he doesn’t really mean it. meanwhile he’s almost desperate to show her how much she means to him. Smut cannot be absent of course. thank youuuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

Forever

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah loves you with all his heart, but his commitment to his family and his loyalty to Klaus keeps him from acting on his feelings. But when he almost loses you, he is determined to prove that you are the only woman he has ever truly loved, and wants to make you his, forever.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag! Who doesn't want to be Elijah's wife? ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, slight violence (a classic Elijah & Klaus brawl), shower sex, rimjob {f!receiving}, oral sex & the Italian coast ♡

Everyone says that Elijah Mikaelson is the best of his family. A loyal, charming, considerate man that holds himself to a standard not many can accomplish. In essence, perfect. He loves his family deeply, despite their constant misgivings and betrayals. Nothing would get in his way, if it meant he could protect the ones he loves.

Well, that's what you wanted to believe.

There was a reason Elijah held such devotion to his family. He was one of them, and no better than the worst of them, having sinned over and over to the point where atonement was simply not a viable option.

He didn't want you to see him that way, the dark side of his polished exterior. He wanted to shed his past and become a new man with you by his side.

You were unlike anyone he's ever known or had a passing connection to. Your empathy and kindness was beyond measure, it had captivated him the very moment that your eyes met.

He always wanted to be married, there were even a few times he almost found someone to spend eternity with. Something always stood between that moment and himself, usually in the shape of some great threat. But things had now settled in his life, he had a niece and a proper place to call home. He was no longer on the run from one demon or another.

He wanted this. To settle down with the woman of his dreams, build a life together, and maybe even add to it.

Perfect. Simple. Domestic bliss.

You had come for a small party celebrating Hope's third birthday. Or, as far as you were concerned, a get together amongst those you considered family.

Although, sometimes you worried they didn't see you as family in turn. Deep entrenched history often kept you away from the inner workings of their family life. You understood that you had to earn your place in their lives, and you had done so time and time again. But they never seemed to truly accept you as one of their own.

You got along with nearly all of them except Klaus, who saw you as just a passing phase Elijah was going through. A dalliance, nothing more.

He certainly knew how to poke at your insecurities about your relationship.

"So, tell me," he asked as the two of you waited in the kitchen. "When will this little thing with you and my brother end?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. You're not the first pretty face he's lost himself in," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"You don't think he's serious about me?" you questioned, trying not to feel hurt.

Klaus just shrugged and gave you a wicked grin. "Why would he be?"

"Because I love him, and he loves me," you replied, keeping your voice low. "It's been four years, and it's serious."

Klaus let out a bark of a laugh. "Four years is nothing in the life of an original. When will you stop living in this fantasy you've built in your mind? This will end and you will move on."

You were about to respond with a few choice words when Hayley came in carrying hope.

While your relationship with Klaus was contentious and you thought him to be cruel and cold. There was no doubt that Hope loved her daddy with all of her tiny heart. She reached out to him, and he happily took her into his arms.

"There's my little one," he cooed, holding her close. "I love you, my sweet girl."

He began to place kisses all over her, and the three year old giggled loudly.

You had baked the cake for her, and placed a number 3 candle in the middle.

"Let's light her up!" you announced.

The cake was placed on the dining room table, and Elijah stood by you. He slipped his hand in yours and squeezed.

"I want auntie y/n to light it," Hope said.

You smiled wide and kissed her on the head.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft.

You lit the candle, and everyone began to sing as the little Mikaelson happily ate a slice of cake, messily covering herself. You laughed, taking a cloth to wipe her little face and hands. Elijah watched you with adoring eyes, you were such a loving soul and he was so lucky to be the one to call you his own.

The cake was enjoyed by all and soon it was time for gifts. Hope was handed a large package by her father, and she eagerly tore open the paper.

You were cuddled up to Elijah, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you, my love."

"For what?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"For being here. It means a lot to me," he told you.

You looked back up at Elijah, and kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you told him.

Hayley helped Hope unwrap the gift from you and Elijah. It was a wooden dollhouse, and it was a miniature replica of the compound, complete with a little Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, and Hope.

Hope hugged the dollhouse to her chest. "I love it!"

"We made it ourselves," you said with a smile.

"Look, daddy!" Hope squealed. "Auntie Y/N and Uncle 'lijah got me a house."

Klaus gave you a tight smile, and you looked at Elijah. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and held you close. This only seemed to annoy Klaus more, but he turned his attention to his daughter, and the gift that she had received.

"That's amazing, little love. Now, why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

"Okay!"

The evening winded down, and eventually Klaus and Hayley took Hope upstairs to get her ready for bed and the rest of the family retired to their rooms. You had left the dining room table a mess, and wanted to help clean up.

You had picked up a few discarded wrapping papers, when Elijah's arms came around your waist.

"Don't worry about that, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. "Leave it, we can do it tomorrow."

"You're sure?" you asked, leaning against him.

"Very," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you towards his bedroom. "I have other plans for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he replied, nipping at your ear. "You know, I've been thinking of you all day. All the things I'd like to do with you."

You flushed,  biting your lips and smiling shyly. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat when he looked at you with that seductive gaze. He never had to force it either, his stare was simply alluring and attentive, it pulled you into its grasp like a siren's song.

Elijah shut the door, and the moment you turned around, he grabbed you and kissed you passionately. His hands held your hips tightly, pulling you against him. He kissed down your jawline, and down your throat.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, kissing down your neck and inhaling the smell of your skin, pulling your clothes off as he went along.

His love, his entire world, right here in his arms. If he were a more possessive man, he'd keep you in this room until his love was imprinted in your very bones.

He kissed you softly, wanting to take his time and express how deeply he cared for you with each touch. He moved down your body, worshiping your skin with his hands and mouth, and the soft sounds that escaped you only urged him on.

His bliss was quickly broken by the sounds of his brother yelling for him at the top of his lungs- an unnecessary use of volume, considering everyone had supernatural hearing.

You reached down and cupped his face, drawing his attention back to you.

"Please don't," you whispered, a pleading look in your eyes. "Stay,"

Elijah's breath left his lungs. You were not the clingy type, in fact you were rather understanding and independent; letting him go and do whatever it was the family needed, always supporting him.

He should stay, finish what he started with you, love you, the one he can't live without. But there was clearly something going on downstairs, his family needed him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I'll be back."

"Sure," you said flatly, pulling away. You didn't quite meet his eyes as you turned on your side, facing away from him.

You were clearly upset, but he didn't have time to be swayed by his emotions. He leaned in to give you a quick kiss, but you turned your head away.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, stroking your hair.

You didn't respond, and he had to leave you there, curled up and angry. He felt a deep pang of regret, but the thought of his family's safety was at the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Elijah left, you let your emotions come to a boil. It hurt how he was constantly running away to deal with his family. It hurt you when he put them over you, their arguments over little things always dragged him in. It made you feel undesired, and second best.

You had no doubt he cared for you, and you did believe he loved you. But did he truly love you the way he loved his own family?

No, not really. He was always holding back, never showing all of himself. He wanted a relationship, but not a true partnership. Not with you, anyway.

Your insecurities bubbled to the surface. The way Klaus acted around you, like you didn't belong, he always treated you as if you were an outsider. Perhaps he was right, that it was a fantasy, that you should move on.

It didn't matter that you were with Elijah. It didn't matter that he called you his love.

He could love you, but not be in love with you. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was all a lie, a ruse. 

Just too good to be true.

Klaus was pacing around the courtyard, clearly worked up and ready to take it out on the next person who walked through the door.

"Is it necessary to yell?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and collected.

"I had to make sure to get your attention, since you've been so distracted lately," Klaus snarked, a pointed look on his face.

Elijah let out a sigh, this wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. He was growing tired of Klaus' attitude. "What is it that's so important?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Y/n is a distraction," Klaus began. "You are blinded by her, and you've become weak and weakness will get us killed." He was speaking quickly and with anger. "You are no longer the man that I've known for a thousand years. You have forgotten where you came from, what you are, and who you are meant to protect."

"Are you suggesting I cast her aside?" Elijah questioned, his voice cold.

"Yes, exactly," Klaus answered, his expression unchanging.

"No," Elijah stated simply.

"She acts far too familiar, and is clearly not one of us," Klaus continued.

"She has proven herself time and time again," Elijah countered. "What more does she need to do?"

"I don't want Hope getting attached to someone that isn't family," Klaus said.

"You can't control who Hope gets close to," Elijah snapped, his anger finally rising.

"I can certainly try," Klaus replied, his tone icy. "And I will. Because you've allowed this woman into our home, our family, and now she's acting as if she belongs."

"She does," Elijah said, his voice steady. "You just have a hard time accepting that."

"If you really care about her, then you will do what is best," Klaus replied, his expression changing. "We both know what happens to your dalliances, they come to tragic ends. I'm trying to spare her from that, brother."

"This isn't some fling, Klaus," Elijah growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

"No, she's just a girl you enjoy fucking! And now Hope is calling her auntie, and she's acting like she's Hope's mother-"

Elijah laughed coldly, his brother was so painfully transparent, his paranoia endless and ever growing. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid of her taking Hayley's place? That I would take yours? Have you officially gone insane?" he mocked, his anger at a breaking point. "Have my actions in the last few years not been clear?"

"She will not be welcomed here once you've tired of her. Once she's gone, Hope will ask for her, and I will not allow that," Klaus stated, his voice rising. "You will have broken a little girls heart because of some stupid infatuation."

Elijah's patience with his brother had worn thin. He had to remind himself that Klaus had suffered so many losses in his long life, that his paranoia had grown into something monstrous. But in times like this, his brother could be utterly cruel, and it was impossible to see him as anything but.

"It's not some stupid infatuation," Elijah seethed, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and that's something you will never understand. She has been good for me, and has done nothing but support us. She's not a threat, and you know it. This is the problem with you, you want everyone to suffer as you have."

"That is not what I'm doing-" Klaus began, his voice rising. "She's not one of us, and will never be. You just keep her around as a trophy, to remind yourself that you are capable of caring for another. She doesn't belong here, and it will be her undoing."

Elijah lost his control and snapped. He grabbed his brother and threw him against the wall. Klaus' head hit the stone and cracked loudly. His face contorted into an expression of rage, his eyes flashing gold. He moved forward and punched Elijah in the face, sending him stumbling back. He rushed at his brother and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tightly. Klaus' anger grew, and his grip tightened.

"Enough!" Hayley screamed, grabbing Klaus' arm and pulling him back. She looked between the two brothers, her eyes wide. "Why are you two fist fighting when my daughter is trying to sleep?!"

Klaus' eyes were wild, and his face was covered in blood, Elijah looked the same, and neither was ready to back down. The only thing stopping them was Hayley's presence. She stood between them, and looked at Klaus. "What did you do? What could you have possibly said to him?" she demanded.

"Y/n isn't family, and never will be," Klaus spat, glaring at Elijah. "I have to protect our daughter."

"Our daughter? You're unbelievable, Klaus," Hayley said, shaking her head. "Go. To. Bed. Both of you," she commanded.

She grabbed Klaus's hand, and dragged him away. Elijah sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up and saw you on one of the upper balconies with an unreadable expression on your face.

Had you seen that entire argument? Did you hear the awful things his brother had said about you?

He rushed up the stairs and met you at your bedroom door. You had your bag in your hand, and he knew immediately what was happening.

"You can't," he told you, shaking his head.

"I'm not welcome here," you whispered. "I have to go, Elijah."

"You are always welcome here," he said, reaching for you. "Please, let's talk."

"We have talked," you told him, pushing his hand away. "I've heard everything I needed to hear, Elijah. You keep choosing them over me. It's always your family first, and I understand that, but you have to see how it hurts me. I can't just keep coming second in your life."

"You aren't," he whispered, trying to draw you close, but you gently pushed him away. He felt his heart shatter at the action, and he knew he had lost you. "I want you, I choose you. Don't do this, my love."

You pushed past him, unable to hear anything else he had to say at the moment, you needed space to think, to figure out what you wanted. If this was a fight you could win. "Goodbye, Elijah," you said, giving him one last glance.

He stood there, and he was frozen. How could this have happened? He thought that he had made you understand that this was permanent. That you were forever.

But he had failed to show his love properly and he had to fix what he broke. You were his greatest love, his everything, and he couldn't live without you. He was nothing without you. So he would do whatever it took to bring you back.

Because if you were gone, so was he.

You were staying with Marcel, the only person who understood what it was like to be in the Mikaelson shadow. He wasn't thrilled that Elijah had hurt you, but he did understand that relationships weren't always easy, especially with the Mikaelsons.

He poured you a stiff drink, and let you wallow.

"I shouldn't have gone," you muttered.

"It's Hope's birthday," he pointed out.

"But I should have known better than to get involved like that, it only makes Klaus jealous," you sighed.

"Klaus is a notorious asshole, and Elijah is...well, he's not good with his emotions."

"That's putting it lightly."

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, and poured yourself another.

"I don't know why I thought that he was serious," you grumbled.

"He's serious, but he's also scared," Marcel replied. "It's a lot easier for him to push people away, then have the chance to hurt them."

"It's a terrible feeling, wanting to be a part of a family that doesn't want you," you admitted.

"I know the feeling," Marcel replied, sitting down next to you.

"He told me he loved me. He told me that we were going to spend forever together. And yet, his family still doesn't accept me." You looked up at Marcel, your eyes filled with tears.

"It's just Klaus, the rest of them adore you," he told you.

"How do I get Klaus to trust me? I'm not trying to take his daughter," you insisted.

"Just be patient, give him some time," Marcel advised.

"I've given him four years," you said. "And he's not willing to accept me even a little."

Marcel nodded, and handed you another drink. "Don't worry about Klaus, he'll get over himself."

"And Elijah?" you asked.

Marcel frowned. "That's not my area."

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "Me either."

You and Marcel had a few drinks and talked the night away. By the end, you had almost completely forgotten your heartache, and were simply enjoying the company.

Marcel had fallen asleep, and you were dozing off when your phone buzzed. You opened it and saw a message from Elijah.

We need to talk.

You sighed, and sent him a simple reply.

Tomorrow.

You were far too exhausted to deal with his bullshit right now. You tossed your phone on the coffee table and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up on Marcel's couch, a blanket thrown over you. You stretched, and grabbed your phone, heading into the kitchen.

Elijah had texted you back.

Meet me outside, I have a car waiting for you.

You frowned. He was sending a car for you? You quickly responded.

Why are you sending a car?

A response came instantly.

It's a surprise.

You shook your head, but smiled a little and texted him back.

Fine, give me 10 minutes.

Hurry, we're on a tight schedule.

You showered, and got dressed, grabbing your bag, and heading out. You gave Marcel a quick goodbye, and hopped into the town car.

Elijah was sitting there, and smiled softly.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," you replied.

He looked you over, and you were surprised by the intense gaze. You blushed under his scrutiny.

"What?" you asked.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, for all of this. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unwanted."

You shook your head. "I know you didn't," you said. "And it's okay."

"It's not," he told you, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, and he pressed a kiss to your palm.

You flushed, and looked away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," he replied.

"What? Why?" You were completely confused.

"You are right, I'm not putting you first, and I will not allow that anymore," Elijah replied. "And to prove it, we're going somewhere, just the two of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Italy, we're going to spend a month on the Amalfi Coast." he said, a soft smile on his face.

"A month?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Yes," he nodded, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. "I've been neglectful, and I need to remind you of how I feel about you.

"Eli, you don't have to do all of this."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "You deserve the world."

He had rented a private plane, and had arranged everything. You were incredibly impressed that he managed to pull it all off in the span of a night.

You sat beside him on the plane, his hand intertwined with yours, and a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but relax, the last couple of days had been so tense, but you couldn't stay mad at him, and a romantic getaway was exactly what you needed.

As the plane took off, Elijah reached over and brushed your hair out of your face. You lifted the arm rest and cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest. He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You missed this, the way he was so attentive, the way he was gentle with you.

"I am sorry, for making you feel second best," he said, his voice low and full of regret.

"I know," you said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "It's okay, your dedication to your family is part of what I love about you."

You looked up at him and kissed him softly.

"Let's not dwell on the past," you said. "We have a whole month to make new memories."

"I am going to spoil you so much, my love," he said, kissing your nose.

The flight was nearly twelve hours and you immediately fell asleep when the plane leveled out. When you woke up, the sun was starting to set.

Elijah was reading a book, and had his free hand resting on your hip. You smiled, and snuggled closer. He put the book down and looked at you, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Good morning, or rather evening," he chuckled. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you yawned.

You looked out the window, and saw the city below. It was like something out of a dream, colorful houses all stacked up, the sea sparkling as the sun set.

"Welcome to Positano," he said.

"Elijah," you whispered, awe in your voice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's magical," you gushed.

"Yes, it is."

The plane landed, and a car was waiting. Elijah had rented an entire villa for the two of you. It was stunning, with a view of the ocean, and a private beach.

You walked through the villa, looking at all the art and antiques. It was very much Elijah's taste, and you could see yourself spending a month here.

The moon was out and it cast a soft glow over the sea. Elijah took your hand and the two of you walked down the stairs to the beach.

The sounds of the waves gently lapping on the sand soothed you. You walked down the shoreline, your hands intertwined.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," you said, leaning against him.

"I know, but I wanted to. I needed to. It was a selfish thing, really," he replied, wrapping his arms around you.

Up ahead you saw something on the beach, it was too dark to make out, but it looked like a bunch of neatly shaped debris.

You walked a little closer, and you could make out the shapes. It was a heart, surrounded by lit candles, and flowers. The words "I love you" written with rose petals on the sand. Suddenly a bunch of twinkle lights were turned on, and the whole scene was lit up.

You turned around to ask Elijah if he had done this, but the words died in your throat. He was kneeling on the ground, a ring box in his hand.

"Y/n," he began, his voice soft and loving.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a bit breathless.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he said. "I should have married you years ago, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"Eli-"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, and continued. "I've spent centuries on this earth, never truly belonging anywhere. Always searching, never finding. Until I found you. My home, my heart, my family."

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't really process what was happening, here was the man of your dreams, pouring his heart out, telling you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"You are my world, my everything. And I want to spend eternity by your side," he said, opening the box and showing you the ring.

The ring was absolutely stunning, a large ruby surrounded by diamonds. It looked antique and must have been worth a fortune.

"I found this ring almost five hundred years ago, right here in Italy. I knew that when I finally found the right person, I would give it to them," he said, smiling up at you.

"You can't be serious," you said, not intending for it to sound as harsh as it did. You were in complete shock.

"I have never been more serious in my entire life," he replied, his voice firm.

"What will your family say?" You asked, worried about Klaus’ reaction.

"Niklaus can go fuck himself," Elijah grinned. "As for the rest of them, they will be thrilled."

You nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.

"This is insane," you whispered, unable to stop staring at the ring.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, looking nervous. "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," you breathed, and he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as though it was made for you.

He stood up, and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with every ounce of love you had for him.

"You're my family, you're my home," he whispered, spinning you around. "And I vow, from this day on, you will always come first. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, cupping his cheek. "With all my heart."

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. You lost yourself in his embrace, in the way his hands felt on your body, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

You both stumbled to the villa, tearing each other's clothes off. Your back hit the wall, and Elijah pushed your skirt up. His hands found your thighs and he squeezed the soft flesh, lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed along your neck, leaving little marks in his wake.

"My fiance," he muttered against the flesh. "My darling love."

"I like the sound of that," you moaned.

"Then you're going to absolutely adore being called my wife," he grinned, moving his lips down to your breasts.

His kisses turned bruising, biting at the flesh of your tits. He was rough with you and you relished it. It was like he was finally unleashing his feelings, letting out all the love he had for you.

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours, hungry for his kisses, drunk off of his affection.

"Bed, Eli," you murmured, but instead, he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

He set you on your feet and turned the water on.

"We are covered in sand," he grinned.

The steam was rising as the water heated up, and the moment it was hot enough Elijah pulled you in with him. You squealed as the warm water washed over you, cleaning you off.

The water was the perfect temperature, a delicious warmth, but not as delicious as the feeling of him pressing into you, pinning your front against the tile.

He reached up, taking your hands and pinning them to the tile wall.

"Keep your hands here," he commanded, pressing a kiss to the back of one.

You nodded, a small moan escaping your lips, he kissed his way down your back. He ran his tongue down the length of your spine. Soft and gentle, teasing over the top of your ass. His hands ran over your legs, and he bent you slightly, opening your cheeks to reveal the most intimate part of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lapping at you.

Your knees nearly buckled as he pressed his face into your flesh. His hands spread your cheeks wide as his tongue dipped into your core. The way his mouth touched every part of you left you dizzy with need. Your thighs clenched, your clit pulsing, ready to be touched.

But you did what he told you, and kept your hands above your head. The porcelain felt cool on your heated skin and he tugged you closer, your hands moving further down as your body was pulled back. His tongue darted into your center, teasing around your hole, his saliva coating you, trailing up, finding your puckered hole, and slowly circling the muscle.

"Elijah," you whimpered, gasping as his tongue worked you open.

He slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, working it inside, pulling it out and sliding it up, moving to replace his tongue on your tight entrance. He swirled around your asshole before pushing the pad of his finger into your tight heat, his mouth sucking on your ass, soft moans escaping him, vibrating against your flesh.

You struggled to keep yourself upright, your hands against the wall, bracing yourself, wiggling against him. The warm water of the shower cascading over you, the sensations were too much and not enough. You were panting, your head tilted back, eyes closed, as you were overwhelmed by his touch.

He pulled back and stood up, kissing along the back of your neck, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close.

"Do you want more, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you breathed, arching against him.

His cock was hard, trapped between the two of you. You ground against him, rubbing yourself on his length, desperate for the friction.

"How much more?" He asked, a smirk in his voice.

"All of it," you said.

"Right here, up against the shower wall?"

"Yes, Elijah, please," you begged.

He hummed and reached between the two of you, taking his length and teasing your core with it. He loved making you beg for him, and he loved hearing the desperation in your voice. But you were now to be his wife, and he was going to take care of you.

He eased himself into your center, groaning at the tightness of you, how good it felt to be surrounded by your warmth. You moaned as he pressed inside of you, the thickness of his cock filling you.

He placed his hands on top of yours against the wall, intertwining your fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his hips moving against you.

"I love you," you moaned, rocking your hips with him.

He took his time with you, savoring the feeling of your body. He had almost lost you, and he needed to remind you how much you meant to him, how he cherished you.

His slow, languid movements were torture, the heat building inside of you, his thick cock rubbing every inch of your pussy. You moved together, the two of you in sync.

Your orgasm started to build, a slow burn deep within. You had never been so turned on, or so loved, the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

"That's it, baby, come for me," he encouraged, his hips picking up the pace.

He could feel the change, and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. His thrusts became harder, more purposeful. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and he sucked the tender flesh.

Your walls clenched and you fell apart, coming undone for him, moaning his name, over and over. He smiled against your skin, he could stay buried inside of you forever, and never tire of the way you made him feel.

He turned off the shower and pulled you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his body on top of yours.

"I can't wait to make love to you every day, for the rest of our lives," he smiled.

"That's a long time, Eli," you teased.

"Not long enough," he smirked.

He took your legs and spread them, kneeling between them. He guided his length into you, and pushed all the way in.

He groaned, loving the way your body opened up to him, the way you felt like home.

"Elijah," you gasped, your hands reaching for him, needing to touch him.

"I love the way you say my name," he smiled, leaning down and kissing you, his tongue licking into your mouth.

He rocked into you, slowly, the feeling of you was addictive. You were his drug and he would never be able to get enough of you. He pictured all the ways he would make love to you, the ways he would please you, worship you.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his body on fire, his desire burning, and it only fueled his need.

His hips snapped against yours, and you gripped the sheets, the pleasure coursing through you. Another orgasm was building, the feeling of him deep inside of you, the way he looked at you with such love.

"Come with me, my love," he pleaded, his hand moving between the two of you, finding your clit, his fingers gently rubbing the bundle of nerves.

He was so close, and he was determined to have you come with him, to fall apart for him, together.

You whimpered and moaned, your hips lifting to meet his, chasing the feeling, knowing it was so close. He pressed his lips to yours, and the dam broke, crashing over the both of you.

You came together, moaning, his cock twitching as he emptied inside of you, your walls clenching and milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You collapsed, boneless, spent, completely and utterly satisfied. He smiled at the sight of you, blissed out and glowing, your hair wet and splayed out over the pillows. . He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He laid down next to you, making sure to keep you close. You curled into his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"So, tell me more about this wedding of ours," you grinned, holding your hand up to look at your ring.

"I'll arrange everything, don't you worry about a thing," he said softly, nuzzling your neck.

"Is that so? I don't get any input?" you teased, turning to look at him, your lips brushing against his.

"I mean, you can make suggestions, if you'd like," he smirked, his hand running along the curve of your hip.

"Hmm, well, I do think we should get married in Positano," you smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"It’s perfect here, isn't it?" he mused, a soft smile on his lips.

"I want it to be a small wedding," you said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Family and close friends only."

"Of course," he replied. "I want it to be something just for us."

The two of you talked until the early morning, dreaming up your future together, and making plans for your wedding. It would be a simple affair, a celebration of your love, in a beautiful location, with the people who cared about the two of you the most.

The month spent in Italy was something out of a dream, the days filled with long walks on the beach, picnics in the gardens, and nights filled with dancing and drinking. You made love in the most luxurious beds, and in the most unorthodox places, including the rooftop patio one night. You even made it a bit of a game, seeing who could find the best spots to fuck in. Elijah always won, and was very proud of himself, you loved seeing him so carefree, so happy.

There was no talk of his family or what was going on at home. It was like you were in your own little world, just the two of you. But it was time to return home, the news of your engagement was something you both wanted to share in person.

When you entered the compound, Hope came running up to her favorite uncle, Elijah scooped her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Uncle ‘lijah! Auntie y/n you're home!" she grinned, and you smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

"Have you been behaving for your mother?" Elijah asked, carrying her towards the courtyard, letting her tell you both all about what she had been up to while you were away.

"I see the trip did you both some good," Klaus said, walking towards the three of you. His eyes darted to the ring on your finger, the red ruby catching the light. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What is?" Hope asked, looking confused.

"I asked aunt y/n to marry me," Elijah told Hope, smiling sweetly at her.

"You did?" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes," you nodded, laughing at the excitement.

Hope hugged Elijah tightly, and Klaus looked at his brother, a hint of a smile on his lips. The sight of his daughter so happy warmed his heart.

"Well, I wish you both every bit of happiness," he said, giving you a tight smile.

"Thank you," you replied, knowing his words were sincere and it was probably the most enthusiastic response you would ever get from him. It was progress and that was enough for you.

Elijah put Hope down, and she took off running, the news of your engagement clearly something she was very excited about. You could hear her yelling the news as she ran through the compound. Rebekah was the first to appear, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" She beamed, and you hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. "I better be a bridesmaid."

The rest of the Mikaelson's slowly came and offered their congratulations. Hayley and Freya both hugged you, Marcel shook Elijah's hand and Kol gave you a warm smile. Hope was thrilled, talking a mile a minute about all the ways she was going to help with the wedding.

"Can I be a bridesmaid?" she asked, her cute little face pleading.

You knelt down so you were at her level, taking her hand. "How about something even more special? No one else at the wedding is going to have such an important job."

"What is it?" She asked, her face completely in awe.

"Will you be my flower girl?"

She squealed and jumped into your arms, squeezing you tight. "Really? Yes! I'd love to!"

You laughed and hugged her back.

Elijah watched the scene, a warmth in his chest. You were his family, his home, the missing piece that had made him whole. He had finally found the love he had been searching for.

You caught him staring, and walked over to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. He kissed the side of your head and let out a contented sigh. You were everything he ever wanted and so much more.

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he smiled.

"Neither can I," you said, your lips meeting his, sealing the promise, always and forever.

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Lae'zel is Autistic

(Note: This post was written by someone with professionally diagnosed autism. A lot of what I'm about to say of Lae'zel, I can personally relate to! This is not intended as negativity or hatred of her character; rather, it is one of the reasons I adore her.)

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I really don't like that the writers have attempted to tone down Lae'zel's "rudeness" perceived by the larger fanbase. It reminds me too much of how "rudeness" is so often less about hostility and more about one's ability to perform social interactions to the standards of neurotypical people. So for the writers to decide that Lae'zel is too "rude" for not saying her please and thank yous every time she speaks, for being direct, for struggling to have two-sided conversations... well, to me, that's just saying that there was something wrong with her they felt the need to fix. I spent years with people trying to "fix" me in special ed. To teach me how to present as neurotypical, like memorizing appropriate responses to common questions, and pretending to hold eye contact by looking at people's lips. While I will admit it helps me in the workplace for example to perform these things, it also taught me to hate myself for being faulty in the first place. That's something I still struggle with to this day. So when a character like Lae'zel comes along, who I can relate to in her coded autism, I don't want to see her changed. I want to see her celebrated.

Here are some of the signs of autism I've noticed in Lae'zel:

Difficulty regulating and understanding emotion:

Lae'zel is a very passionate person, and can get carried away by that passion. At the same time, she is not very good at self-inventory of her emotions. After she defies Vlaakith in Act 3, she asks the player to help her understand what she is feeling, because she cannot place it herself.

Directness:

As said above, Lae'zel is vert blunt in the way she communicates. If you've picked up the game only in later patches, let me tell you that she was originally even more so. If the player asks Lae'zel why she is the way she is, she says it's just because she is githyanki. While I certainly think some of this could be attributed to a difference in culture, we meet other githyanki, and they do not carry the same speech and manner she has.

Taking things literally:

Lae'zel equally does not understand indirectness from others, or idioms. For example, when Shadowheart asks if they have "buried the hatchet" between them, (an American idiom to mean "making peace" which by the way, is not a very appropriate idiom,) she answers with "why would I bury a weapon?" Again, this could be attributed to a difference in background, but nonetheless something to relate to.

Dislike of small talk:

Literally the first thing Lae'zel says to you after you recruit her is, "chatter already? Tas'ki."

Inflection:

Lae'zel is voiced with minimal modulation of intonation or pitch. As such, she sounds monotone and serious, even when the words she says are lighthearted or joking.

Difficulty handling change of routine/expectancy:

When things do not go as Lae'zel is determined they are supposed to go--for example, the machine she thinks will remove her tadpole not working as she believed it would--she has wild, uncontrolled outbursts.

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There's probably even more one could list here, but for now I'm done. I may edit this later, though.

#lae'zel #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 meta #meta

[bettdraws]

This is a wild Elucien headcanon…

but please imagine Lucien being in a really dangerous situation with the Autumn court, like something happened and they have him as a prisoner, or unable to leave.

And Elain is there listening to how Lucien could potentially be held captive in a cold cell or even tortured.

And shes there when Eris says the only way to save him is if he has real ties to the Night Court or if he officially becomes a member, and the only way to do that is if he gets mated/married to someone from there, not anyone, but the High Lady’s sister.

And everyone is outraged with what he is suggesting but Elain is suddenly quiet.

And she suddenly says “I will do it” and everyone gapes at her, some try to talk her out of it (possibly Feyre or Nesta) but Rhys just nods.

And they send notice to the Autumn court that they cannot harm Lucien because he is a Night Court citizen, but Beron doesn’t believe it, he demands that Elain goes there so he can determine it.

Chaos, outrage, but she agrees, and she obviously doesn’t go alone. She convinces herself that while she doesn’t owe Lucien anything, she is tired of the bloodshed, the loss, and if she has the power in her hands, she will act. That is all, she couldn’t care less about him. She convinces herself she would be this worried for anyone that is close to her sister, it’s not because shes worried and scared and petrified of something bad happening to him.

They’re in the Forest House, they bring out Lucien who is luckily generally unharmed but Elain looks at the binds in his wrists and her whole body reacts to the sudden urge to protect. Beron takes one sniff at them and knows it is true. They’re mates. But Beron says an unfulfilled mating bond is not valid (listen idk about these fae laws bear with me) they need to marry. Elain declares that was the plan all along. Lucien is shocked. (I just imagine what must be going through his head seeing his mate stand before Beron in the same room where Jesminda was killed)

They let Lucien go with his mate but they have to stay in the Forest House until everything gets resolved. Elain and Lucien are shoved into a room, no more chains on him, but he doesn’t understand any of it.

Both of them are standing awkwardly in the room. Lucien is staring at her as if she has grown ears, still shocked, still reliving moments, furious at them for being so dumb as to risk themselves for him. He supposed he really was a big asset for Rhys to have done this. But her… why was she here? Why did she put herself in this position?

“Did they make you do this?” He says through his teeth.

She muses on what to say. “No” she gets offended with the assumption that she can’t make decisions for herself. “I agreed to this and came on my own free will”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I’m tired of people dying, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I could have done something” A silence and for some forsaken reason Elain has the need to add. “This doesn’t mean what you think it means”

Something irks at Lucien then, and the awoken nerves on his body make him respond to that. “And please tell, Lady, what do I think it means?”

Elain clenches her fists. “That I’ve changed my mind about you… about this” She signals between them. “This is just temporary, out of necessity”

Lucien just stares at her.

“I never entertained that you did, I can assure you.” It is easier to turn on her, on this beautiful female that is putting herself at risk for him, than to be hurt at the continuing rejection from her. “You’ve always just assumed that I’m some brute fae that wants to steal you away, let me tell you now that we’re speaking frankly, that its not the case. I can’t control the pull from the bond, but I have no interest in pursuing a female who doesn’t want me”

That sends Elain to retaliate. “What about the gifts then, was that not pursuing?” She cocks her head arrogantly.

“I was bringing them to Feyre as well. That was me being polite, but guess you don’t know the first thing about that”

“You are one to talk about politeness when I’m here risking my life for your neck and this is how you treat me” She takes one step closer.

“I never asked you to do it” He mirrors her and steps closer with his broad hands clenched in fists.

“I will just let you die next time then”

“Fine by me, as long as I don’t have to endure you shoving it on my face”

“Asshole”

“I’ve been called worse” A sly, angry smile creeps at one corner of his mouth. She suddenly realizes they’re breathing on each other’s face.

“And all this time I thought you were a gentleman” She summons her anger to keep focused.

“You will learn I can be a gentleman, Elain” Her name on his lips, for the first time. “But I can be so much worse too”

His breath is hot on her face, their hearts already beating fast.

“You admit you were pretending then, to win me over”

A sharp breathy laugh from him. “If I wanted to win you over, I would not have tried to be gentle”

Her lips form a thin line as she holds herself, the pull, his words, the sudden effect of his mismatched gaze intense on her face.

“You shouldn’t have done this” He says quietly, roughly, his eyes showing something beyond just annoyance, she sees the fear in them. She pushes it back.

“What’s done is done” She says. “We will pretend, see this through, and then we’re done”

“Alright, dove”

She’s startled. Her nostrils flare. She ignores the outrageous pet name he just used on her. “I’m going to take a bath, I suggest you do the same, you stink” She begins to walk away and stops herself “I mean after I’m done” She frowns as she strolls away.

He watches her with sudden amusement.

He’s scared, hes pissed and hurt. He’s tired. But something inside him sparks, and he can’t really put a name to it.

Oh he’s not alright.

#guys im not a writer but I had to put this out there #if youre a writer PLEASE TAKE THIS I NEED IT #elucien #pro elucien #marriage of convenience #the best trope im sorry #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elain x lucien #autumn court drama #elucien headcanon #elucien one shot #elain and lucien banter will EAT

[nyctoaerah]

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

“𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Where suguru geto founds himself deeply enamored with satoru's non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession. ╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Patricide, Sexual Assault, Non-consensual touching, Attempted Rape, Incest, Gore. ╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo’s Sister! Non-sorcerer! Reader ╰┈➤𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 & 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

•───癖好───•

IT HAD BEEN A COUPLE of weeks ever since [Name] had encountered Suguru, and currently, [Name] found herself seated on a comfortable chair with a mirror positioned directly in front of her. She had meticulously styled her hair into an elegant princess-inspired half-up, half-down hairdo; the upper part of her hair adorned with the intricately braided strands that Satoru had woven for her before going out.

Tonight, they were hosting a grand party for some unknown reasons, and though the idea of attending wasn't exactly her preference, Satoru had adamantly insisted, and thus [Name] reluctantly agreed. However, she was determined not to appear disheveled or bring further humiliation upon her esteemed clan.

Taking great care, she applied skillfully chosen makeup, adorning her face with a touch of gray eyeshadow accented by glitters and other luxurious embellishments that Satoru had bought for her.

Her eyeliner possessed a refined precision and her lips were adorned with a soft, yet eye-catching, pink hue.

Her gaze shifted towards the necklace Satoru had given her as a birthday gift the previous year, which, until now, had remained unworn.

It was probably very expensive, considering that Satoru tends to buy her a lot of expensive things. The necklace silver-tone glistened and was encircled by dazzling diamonds.

Adorning this piece were crafted flower-shaped jewels, and at the very center of it all, a resplendent circle housing perfectly cut rubies.

Placing the necklace around her neck, [Name] examined herself in the mirror, feeling a subtle twinge of self-consciousness regarding her appearance.  

‘Do i even look good...?’ she thought to herself, her self consciousness getting the best of her once again.

She was donning a simple azure-hued dress which was enhanced by a few tasteful pieces of jewelry, that again, was given to her by satoru.   Satoru was mostly the one who buys her things as their clan seldom bestowed any items upon her.

What makes this even more remarkable is that Satoru consistently selects the most costly presents to give her. Although [Name] is not unappreciative, she cannot help but perceive these extravagant gifts as too expensive for someone in her circumstances.

Speaking of Satoru, [Name] wanted to ask for his opinion on whether she looked good or she looked like shit. (even though she knows that satoru would always say that she's pretty)

However, Satoru was temporarily absent, presumably occupied with the task of greeting their arriving guests.

Releasing a gentle sigh, her eyebrows knits together as she contemplated whether or not to proceed on going to the damn party.

Discord permeated her relationship with her clan, and vice versa. Yet, Satoru insisted that she attend the party and divulged that they had agreed upon her involvement due to an impending announcement. A flicker of doubt whispered in her mind, speculating that they might subject her to humiliation, but surely, Satoru wouldn't permit such degradation in public, would he? 

he adored her and reciprocated her love; hence, he would shield her from any harm. right? Right? Right? He would protect her.

Her muscles tensed slightly at the sound of the door to her room opening. 

“Satoru?” She swiveled her head towards the entrance, anticipating his arrival. However, to her disappointment, it was not Satoru who crossed the threshold; instead, her father made his way into the room.

Her eyes widened and instantly, her muscles clenched and her jaw tightened as she observed who it was.

‘Shit! What is he doing here?!’

[Name] panicked internally and struggled to put up a relaxed expression.

“O-otou-sama..,” [Name] whispered under her breath, her voice cracking and barely audible as she shakily rose from her seat and placed the pillow on the chair before bowing respectfully—not really wanting to anger her father.

Upon noticing his return, her eyes scrutinized him from head to toe, sensing his gaze on her body which made her uncomfortable .

“You've returned...”

Summoning a smile, she forced herself to feign happiness.

“Welcome back, Otou-sama” she greeted, though her smile was forced and unconvincing. 

Her heart raced within her chest as she averted her gaze, keeping her eyes away from his piercing stare. “If I may speak.. what brings you here?” she inquired tentatively, anxiety griping her every word. 

With each step he took towards her, her father's mere presence sent shivers down her spine. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her body to tremble involuntarily.

“Your father has missed you dearly,” he spoke softly, his touch lingering in an uncomfortably intimate manner. She couldn't help but feel that a father's touch should never be this way. 

He shouldn't touch her like this.

A father should not touch her daughter like this.

“You have grown into a remarkably beautiful woman,” he remarked, his words causing her discomfort. Unpleasant memories resurfaced as she noticed the scent of alcohol emanating from him. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled, finding no solace in the way he had complimented her. It had been five long years since she last saw her father, because he was overseas, and the dude too, was often abusive during her earlier years. However, something about his current behavior unsettled her, creeping her out in an inexplicable way. 

“It must have been quite challenging for you to handle Satoru in that way...” He let out a light chuckle as his fingers gently traced circles on her tense shoulders, causing her to feel a mixture of revulsion and fear. 

Disgusting and utterly repulsive was her father.

“I-it wasn't that bad,” she responded, her voice trembling slightly. Ofcourse, satoru sometimes acts like a man child, but it was only because he hadn't been given the chance to be a child and [Name] loves his brother.

“Satoru is a good person” she stated.

‘Unlike you.’ she added mentally.

“I'll go and call satoru,” [Name] said, her heart racing inside her chest, as if it were about to burst through her ribcage. Her instincts were in overdrive, her flight and fight instincts were screaming at her. She wanted satoru to just come back so bad and take her away from this creep of a pathetic excuse of a father.

“No,” he firmly stated, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. 

“Why not?” she questioned.

“Because it would deeply sadden me,” he declared with a touch of theatricality, causing [Name] to resist the temptation to glare at him. 

“You would do anything to keep me happy, right, [Name]?” he questioned, seeking assurance from her as she hesitantly nodded in response. Of course, she had her own boundaries and limits, and she wouldn't go to extremes for his happiness.  

“Beloved daughter,” he whispered in a low voice, and she visibly flinched when his hand began to inch toward her hip. Attempting to distance herself, she took a step back, yet he followed her, backing her into a corner until her back collided with the wall. Her heart raced with unease as his grubby hand veered towards her inner thighs but she swiftly slapped it away and she earned a glare from it.

“Speak as you're told,” he commanded, his words causing her to swallow uneasily. Her response had to be compliant.

“Yes... yes, I will,” she murmured, detesting the tone she was forced to use. The anticipation of Satoru's return grew with each passing moment, as she increasingly felt an overwhelming sense of discomfort, a foreboding feeling that something dreadful was bound to happen.

“You are nothing more than a mere accident that occurred during the prenatal development in your mother's womb, [Name].” he told her and she raised an eyebrow, finding his statement to be random.

Of fucking course, she doesn't fucking need to know that.

She knows that she's an outcast.

She knows that she's just a mistake.

They don't need to remind her about that fucking truth, for she's aware of it.

“Satoru is meant to be a sole child.”

He added.

“But speaking of your mother... She no longer fulfills my needs,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

‘Like i give a damn,’ she thought bitterly.

“Her beauty has diminished,” he uttered, causing her to freeze as his hand stealthily crept beneath her dress. 

“Do you realize how beautiful you are?” he inquired, drawing nearer, subjecting her to the repulsive stench of alcohol.

“I think that you'll be able to satisfy me, daughter.”

His words had a paralyzing effect on [Name], rendering her unable to react or defend herself, it felt as if she was nailed in her place.

“...”

The desire to push him away and slap his hand away was evident, yet she found herself immobilized, as if invisible strings were pulling her to stay still against her own will, like a marionette in the hands of a puppeteer. 

‘Satoru, where are you?!’

 

Looking anxiously at every nook and cranny of the room,  her [E/c] orbs searched desperately for a familiar face: Satoru. The urgency in her grew increasingly intense as she was in dire need of help.

In her time of distress, it was Satoru whom she longed for.  Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Only Satoru.  His presence could provide the security and support [Name] craved.

It was satoru, always satoru and only satoru.

Her dependency on Satoru was very evident and She was scarily dependent on the white-haired lad. Her fingers curled up as she swallowed a lump in her throat.

“What's that supposed to mean, Otou-sama?” she feigned innocence, cringing internally at herself for sounding so dumb. Certainly, she was fully aware of his intentions. She wasn't intellectually naive by any means. She comprehended precisely what he was alluding to, the repugnant depths of his perverse desires that he was referring to.

The mere thought of it caused an intensely uncomfortable sensation to ripple through her entire being, primarily because she shared a bloodline with him as her own flesh and that she was his blood daughter. 

“Can you explain it?” she asked, trying to look ‘cute and confused’ and making a genuine effort to maintain a composed facade. Yet behind this facade, she was gripped by an overwhelming sense of panic, frantically attempting to stall for time as a means of gathering her thoughts and possibly finding an alternative solution—and for satoru to arrive, ofcourse.

[Name] shivered as his dirty hands ascended towards her delicate face, enclosing it within his grip.

“My daughter, so pure and untainted,” The ugly man uttered, causing a nauseating sensation within her. He sarcastically murmured, emphasizing her purity and innocence. “How adorable,” he remarked, revealing a sinister undertone. With a sinister intention, he offered,

“Stay still, alright?” her father's disgusting voice echoed in her ears.

 

[Name] swallowed thickly, the rhythm of her heartbeat reverberated through her chest with an alarming force, threatening to break free from its bony confines. The sound of blood rushing through her veins seemed to echo in her ears, serving as a reminder of her vulnerable state.

In this vulnerable state, she was left pondering the same question over and over: Where the fuck was Satoru when she needed him the most? 

‘Satoru, where are you? I need you...’

 

As she inhaled and exhaled deep breaths, attempting to calm her racing pulse, the absence of Satoru loomed over her like a dark cloud. Satoru's absence only magnified her sense of helplessness, increasing her yearning for his presence like a beacon of hope.  

“W-what are you doing?”

She squeaked as she experienced a sense of repulsion as she felt his dirty grubby hands clutching at the strap of her dress, as if he wanted to take it off and the mere proximity of his hands filled her with revulsion. She wanted nothing to do with his touch, especially since he was her own father, making the situation even more disturbing.

“Otou-sama.. this is wrong...”

She was a minor. She was 16. He's a fucking adult. This is fucking pedophilia. This was incest. This is infidelity. This is so wrong in so many ways. And more especially, this is sexual assault.

This whole scenario seemed morally and ethically wrong in countless ways. Her jaw clenched tightly, her eyebrows furrowed, and a scowl formed on her face as she directed her intense gaze at him. She was disgusted, angry, and scared.

“Please don't touch me...” she gritted out.

Sensing her disapproval, he paused in his actions and met her gaze with a hint of irritation.    

“Don't you fucking dare to look at me like that,” he uttered with a sharp, venomous tone, as if he wasn't talking to her in a sweet voice before and acting as if he wasn't being a creep earlier and lusting at his own daughter, prompting her to suppress a snarky reply. 

“What do you mean—” 

SLAP

Her [E/c] eyes widened as an abrupt, stinging sensation spread across her face, causing her head to turn to the side due to the force of the slap delivered by her own father. Despite the pain, [Name] remained silent, raising a trembling hand to touch her tender cheek.

The impact of the slap left a prominent, reddened mark on her delicate skin, causing her to clench her teeth together and direct an intense glare towards the ground, desperately holding back tears. 

It was so fucking painful.

Suddenly, [Name] felt his hand cupping her cheeks, a  invasive gesture that further heightened her discomfort. His words only added to her distress as he coldly remarked,

“If you didn't provoke me, I wouldn't have to leave such an imprint on that pretty face of yours.” He then proceeded to openly scrutinize her body, examining every curve and contour, which made [Name] bite down hard on her lip in nervousness, trying to cope with the overwhelming emotions swirling within her. 

“Otou-sama, don't do this” she managed to whisper.

“P-please stop...” She winced in pain, her eyes welling up with tears, but he glared furiously at her and forcefully gripped her throat, applying just enough pressure to leave her gasping for breath. The sensation of his hands crushing her windpipe sent a searing agony throughout her body. 

“You dare command me to halt?” he hissed menacingly. 

“You were practically begging for this, parading around in an immodest dress and presenting yourself like a harlot,” he accused, causing tears to cascade down her face.

[Name] struggled to breathe, her larynx engulfed in excruciating pain. Eventually, he released his grip, allowing her to desperately gasp for air.

[Name]'s throat was ablaze with agony, and she instinctively clutched at her neck while trying to steady her rapid breaths. In truth, she had not worn a provocative dress, but rather a modest and unassuming one. So how could she have possibly provoked him in any way?  

[Name] wasn't begging for it. He was fucking delusional.

In this moment, she longed for Satoru's presence, yearning for his support and help to escape this horrifying situation.

She absolutely despised being trapped in this predicament and her mind continually echoed her brother's name, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.

[Name] felt an irrepressible urge to scream, to call out for Satoru's help, but she couldn't summon the courage.

“Satoru..” [Name] breathed out shakily, trying to scream but she couldn't do it.

With a heavy heart, she fell into silence as her father began to kiss her neck, an unspeakable violation of the boundaries between a father and his daughter. Helplessness engulfed her entirely as she grappled with overwhelming feelings of disgust, fear, and anger. Why didn't satoru returned? why wasn't he there when she needed him the most? Why wasn't satoru—

A sudden realization washed over her, causing her to come to a halt. It was a frightening realization that she had become excessively reliant and dependent on her older brother.

She found herself unable to defend herself in any situation, constantly relying on him for protection and support. The mere thought of standing up for herself seemed impossible. The depths of her dependency on Satoru was alarming.

As her eyes darted back and forth, her pupils began to tremble, accompanied by a nauseous sensation. 

It was alarming just how reliant she had become on her older brother, Satoru. She couldn't even protect herself; constantly relying on him for both defense and support. She was utterly incapable of standing her ground or facing the world on her own. 

The depth of her dependence became increasingly clear as her very core began to tremble. The nauseating urge to vomit overwhelmed her when her father, with his hand on her waist and thigh, pressed an unwanted kiss upon her shoulders. It was at that moment that she understood the root of her helplessness, connected intrinsically to her reliance on Satoru. This dependence, she couldn't deny, made her vulnerable to abuse.

Her vision became clouded by tears, prickling at the corners of her eyes, as the weight of her powerlessness enveloped her. She couldn't accomplish anything without Satoru by her side. 

She was nothing without satoru.

In her eyes, she saw herself as weak, nothing more than a mere shadow, incapable of even the simplest tasks without satoru's guidance and protection. Her entire identity seemed intertwined with this inescapable dependence, leaving her questioning her worth and purpose. 

She's useless. Just like they had said.

Yet, amidst her turmoil, a glimmer of realization began to take shape within her. Just  because she's a non-sorcerer doesn't necessarily equate to constant reliance on Satoru.

Slowly, she began to understand the necessity of her own dependence if she ever wanted to taste the sweet freedom she so desperately craved; She needed to be independent. No longer did she wish to be shackled by her dependency on Satoru; it was a burden.

In this moment of clarity, she could feel her hands clenching into tight fists, and her knuckles turning white.

When she felt his grimy hands tracing up and down her thigh in a lewd manner, an intense wave of fear surged through her.

Then she screamed, the thoughts of being independent going through the back of her mind as she completely forgot about it.

“SATORU! SATORU! HELP!” she cried out in desperation, as he pushed her father away from her and attempted to escape towards the the door while continuing to scream for satoru, her trembling hand desperately gripping the doorknob as she continued to scream for satoru. She banged on the door loudly, hoping to alert satoru.

“SATORUUU! HE TOUCHED ME!”

Meanwhile, her father grimaced in pain but managed to muster a threatening remark,

“You insolent brat...”

“SATORUUU! OTOU-SAMA IS TRYING TO RAPE M— MMPHH—!!” her voice was abruptly muffled when her father covered her mouth with his other hand, silencing her screams grabbed a handful of her hair, his sharp nails digging painfully into her scalp and she began to sob on his hand.

“Shut up!” he hissed and dragged her forcefully towards the bed and pressed his body against her.

“No one will come to your rescue. They will simply turn a blind eye to someone as pitiful and insignificant as you.” A malicious grin spread across his face, a grotesque display of his sadistic pleasure.

“You are nothing,” emphasizing his contempt for her. The pain intensified as his razor-sharp nails continued their assault on her scalp.

“Poor thing, can't even use jujutsu and yet you dare to talk back to your superiors” he scorned, belittling her inability to utilize jujutsu.

[Name] teared up as she tried to scream but her screams were muffled by his hands. Expressing his derogatory views towards women, he continued,

“Women like you are feeble, incapable of defending themselves, always needing a man to protect themselves” He further degraded her, completely aware that [Name] Is dependent to satoru.

“I bet that if you were given a chance to go out, you would go show your body off to men like a whore, because you are already doing it right now in our house.”

“Women are meant solely to satisfy and serve men, bearing and caring for children.” He let go off her hair with one final and painful tug.

“So you better do your purpose as a woman and satisfy me”

He then pulled at the straps of her dress,  ripping it off. she let out a scream that was muffled by her father's hand, as she squirmed in discomfort as his hands shamelessly explored and fondled her chest.

In a desperate attempt to defend herself, she  delivered a knee strike to his groin, causing her father to emit a pained grunt as he stumbled backwards, ultimately collapsing in agony on the ground.

she tumbled to the ground, falling in a heap alongside her father. The impact caused her elbows to press into his stomach, inflicting a sharp pain that left him gasping for breath. Without wasting a moment, she promptly rose to her feet whilst clenching her teeth together and fixing a piercing glare upon her father.  

She wasted no time seizing a momentary opportunity to unfasten the sharp hairpin that had previously secured her braids. As her lustrous [H/c] colored locks cascaded freely around her face.

Writhing in pain, clutching his injured groin, her father managed to wheeze out in a raspy voice, his words dripping with contempt, “You insolent child!”

Without granting her father even a moment to react, she lunged forward, the pointed end of the hairpin finding its mark in his eye as she stabbed him in the eye. Initially, the sharp tip of the hairpin pierced the delicate iris, causing it to recoil instantly. Blood erupted from the wounded eye, splattering both her and her father as he unleashed a horrifying scream, desperate to rid himself of the searing agony consuming him. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she repeated shakily.

Unrelenting, she slammed her feet firmly on his chest, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Crouching over his writhing body, her teeth clenched with as she applied intense pressure, feeling his bony ribs crack beneath the pressure exerted by her mere feet,  causing bone fragments to likely disperse throughout his entire body, inevitably inducing excruciating agony.  

Lost in a blood-red haze, she acted on instinct alone, unaware of her own capabilities and the reasons fueling her actions. However, the satisfaction derived from defending herself against her tormentor overwhelmed any semblance of rational thinking.

Driven by an insatiable thirst for vengeance, she plunged the hairpin deeper into his eye, mercilessly breaking through the fragile barrier of the eye itself. With a twist of the hairpin, she targeted and severed the optic nerves, thoroughly obliterating his vision. All the while, her father's cries of agony served as an eerie soundtrack to her brutal assault.  

However, she remained unsatisfied with the extent of his injuries.

Suffering from fractured ribs and a severely injured eye proved to be insufficient in punishing him adequately. The gravity of his sins, which involved attempting to sexually assault her and subject her to abuse, demanded a far greater retribution. He undoubtedly warranted a punishment of a much higher magnitude.  

He deserved this for looking at her in such a dirty way. He deserved this for trying to rape his daughter. He deserved this. He deserved every single part of it.

Her father was still writhing on the ground, uttering agonizing screams. With her free hand, she began to gouge his eyes using her fingers. The crimson liquid spurted onto her palm, and the squelching noises resonated in her ears as she pressed her fingers into his eyeball, causing them to penetrate the outer layer—the sclera, and eventually piercing through the iris. As her fingers continued their destructive path, they shattered and obliterated the delicate lens within the eye, she delved even deeper into the eye socket, curling her finger upwards and effortlessly piercing through the gel-like vitreous humor, permanently robbing him of his ability to see.

The sensation of the eyeball squirming under her touch intensified his torment, causing him to cry out in excruciating pain.

She then finally distanced herself from the horrific scene, leaving behind the haunting image of the hairpin penetrating his eye, her trembling hands glistened with crimson liquid. Breathing heavily, she bore the weight of her strenuous exertion.  But she wasn't satisfied yet.

Making her way back to her previous spot, she seized the chair and  launched it at his defenseless body, a reflection of the fury in her trembling eyes. She was grateful for being away from the other rooms and she was grateful the blaring music that drowned out the sound, for she knew the wretched screams of her father, an abomination seeking to violate her, would go unheard.

Unleashing her pent-up rage, she struck him repeatedly with the chair, causing his face to become disfigured and adorned with grotesque wounds. A broken nose and a swollen, battered lip, gouge out eyes were the least of his deserved punishments—and many more.

How dare he kiss her space with his repulsive, chapped lips? How dare he tarnish her with his grimy hands? The chair continued to collide with his wretched body, until it succumbed to the sheer force, shattering into fragments. The pieces, now stained with blood, came to rest on the floor, which too had become drenched in the crimson fluid of the disgusting man.

Breathing with intensity, she was overwhelmed by the putrid aroma of her father's blood permeating her senses, finding it as repulsive as his very presence. In response, she made a conscious decision to inhale solely through her mouth, bypassing the revolting scent.

She clenched her fists tightly and repetitively punched him. The force behind each blow became so relentless that her own knuckles ruptured, causing her blood to intermingle with his as she persistently aimed to annihilate him.

As she delivered her punches, she could audibly discern the sound of his skull fracturing. The exertion of her physical strikes caused her breath to become labored, each inhalation eliciting a searing pain in her chest, and with every exhale, it felt as though her lungs were on the verge of bursting. In addition, her windpipe seemed engulfed in an inferno, intensifying her discomfort.

As she readied her hand once more for impact, the sight of her knuckles, now exposed and vulnerable due to the blistered skin, revealed the delicate hue of her light brown bones.

She experienced excruciating pain throughout her entire body, but she paid it no mind and  pierced through the flesh of his countenance, the contact between her hand and his skull sending a shudder through her being.

But it wasn't enough. She wasn't satisfied yet

•───癖好───•

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#jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #yandere satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere suguru geto #yandere geto #cw: gore #idon't know what the fuck i am doing

[whateversawesome]

SxF Chapter 91: Perspective, History, Empathy

Let me start by saying that I didn't think this chapter would make me so emotional. Was it the same for you?

A small side character like Millie, who we saw only as one of Yor's annoying co-workers, turned out to have a very sad backstory and gave us a glimpse of how things are for young people in Ostania.

This chapter talks a lot about people understanding and misunderstanding each other. Millie was just talking about her own experience and feelings, she was explaining why it was so difficult for her to help during an event like this, and that lady felt personally attacked because she saw things from her own point of view and her sufferings.

In no way the story discards any of those ladies' sufferings; what they went through during the war was very difficult, I'm sure. Nevertheless, comparing their sufferings and demanding Millie to act the same way just because they were able to do it, it's not right.

They both had different experiences because their circumstances were different, so they face life in their own way. That's exactly Yor's point.

Here, Yor demonstrates her best quality (and one of the many reasons why her husband fell in love with her): Emotional strength.

I've said it before and I'll say it again; Yor is a very emotionally intelligent character. The way she stood up for Millie displayed all her emotional strength. She called out that woman in such a smart way!! She wasn't rude but her words were true and very wise.

One of the most important things Yor mentions is that we cannot bear the same load because we're different. And I couldn't agree more👏

Also, if we take it as a metaphor, Yor is such a strong person because she carried a very heavy load: as a child and an orphan, she had to take care of her brother. Because of this, a naturally kind person like her had to learn to murder in order to survive.

It was a beautiful chapter. On top of everything, we learned a few important things:

1.Yor did lose her parents during the war and because of the war.

2.Donovan Desmond did NOT start the war. But plenty of young people like Millie don't know that, so it's possible that since he was Prime Minister during most of the war, he gets blamed for starting it.

3.Donovan Desmond is hated by many. That's probably the reason why he's no longer in office. And it also wouldn't be surprising that the majority of people in Ostania who voted against him want to move on from the war.

3.Melinda still wears her wedding ring and, even though she's separated from her husband, she still counts him as an important person for her. I guess, you can hate a person's actions and opinions, hate what they have become, but care about them at the same time...their marriage is complicated.

4.Not only Yor and Twilight fear the SSS because of their jobs. The general population do too because they know rich and powerful people can make them disappear regardless whether they are spies or not. That means arrests and disappearences of innocent people are common.

5.There was a repression during war time. This means the state controls and restricts certain rights of its citizens. When war happens, the state may determine it's necessary to protect their country and citizens. Chances are that policing of others started then and Ostanians got used to living like that.

And now some questions:

Was Melinda being sincere? In my opinion yes (for the most part). Melinda is no longer campaigning for her husband. In fact, she's going there incognito. Since her husband is no longer the Prime Minister and they don't have any elections to win, she doesn't have to support this types of events. If you think about it, once a politician retires from the public eye, their spouse generally goes back to their normal life.

Something that caught my attention was that it was mentioned Melinda has a lot of enemies; probably because her husband has a lot of enemies too. If that's the case, it would be easier for Melinda to move abroad, where she could have a care-free life, yet, she has chosen to stay in Ostania. Why?

Melinda is still a very mysterious character. We don't know her plans or intentions. We don't know why she separated from her husband. My only guess is that she's suffered a great deal and that's why she's able to empathize with Millie, even though their experiences are different.

What do you think?

Bonus (to end on a light note):

This is the Sxf when we see Yor 😄

#spy x family #twiyor #Spy x family manga #Sxf #Spy x family #yor forger #loid forger #anya forger #loidyor #loid x yor #agent twilight #Spy x family meta #spy x family analysis

[kurooo-is-here]

Hear me out. Drayton and Kieran with a mute s/o?

(Tbh I feel like Drayton would think they’re just shy for the first couple of interactions until someone tells him though lol)

Okay, I'm not super knowledgable about deaf or mute folks. But here's my best shot at this ask, if I am incorrect about anything please let me know!

My interpretation of this is that reader is deaf and communicates through sign language, and they cannot speak at all.

Drayton and Kieran with a mute/deaf Reader

(Ignore the snom gif I couldn't think of anything specific to use for this lmao)

Drayton:

Yeah, he's totally clueless at first. Doesn't get why you're doing odd hand motions instead of talking, but he figures everyone has their quirks. It really bothers you that he won't acknowledge it, so you ask Lacey to tell him for you.

When Drayton hears it from Lacey, he feels really bad and is immediately apologetic. He rushes over to you and attempts to apologize, then realizes he doesn't understand sign language at all, so he stumbles on his words a lot.

Lacey facepalms watching all of this go down, so she reluctantly teaches Drayton some basic sign language so he can get his apology across to you. He's delighted to finally be able to talk to you properly-- he has a crush on you, after all.

The rest of the Elite Four soon complains that Drayton studies sign language better than he studies for any of his classes, but he is absolutely determined to make things right with you. Lacey says she's never seen him work that hard!

When he finally confesses to you, he does it right. He makes sure he corrects himself if he messes up a sign, accidentally blurts out a few words while signing-- but you can tell he really means it. It warms your heart to see him trying so hard for you, despite his initial ignorance on the subject.

Drayton notices you get bullied a lot because you're some regular student hanging out with the big leagues (the BBA Elite Four). He IMMEDIATELY shuts down anyone who has the balls to talk shit in front of you knowing you can't hear them. That kind of vile behavior will never be tolerated on his watch.

He texts you a lot. He still talks to you through sign when he sees you in person, but since he's usually busy doing League Club work (or just pretending to be busy), he texts you when he has a moment of free time. At one point you changed his contact name on your phone to "The Drayster", which made his entire WEEK. He would NOT shut up about it.

Don't let this man figure out swears and silly insults in sign language, he's gonna use them all the time now. One time Crispin asked what Drayton was laughing about and he just signed "bullshit" in response which immediately had you on the floor in tears of laughter while Crispin looked SO confused.

Kieran:

Luckily he's more perceptive and understanding than Drayton, so he picks up on your disability right away. Turns out he already knew a bit of sign language from teaching himself too.

When you ask him how he knew sign language already, he just shyly responds that he wanted to be prepared for the event that he needed to communicate with Ogerpon through it for some reason.

He teaches himself a LOT more sign language after meeting you. He really wants to go the extra mile for his new friend and possible crush so he studies and does his research diligently.

Kieran already understands if you're socially awkward, because he's full of anxiety himself. He totally gets it if you need to rely on him to be your translator at any point.

He really loves you and has no problems with your disability, even if he has to try a little harder for you. And after a while, communicating with you becomes easier, which makes you really happy!

After the events of Indigo Disk, he becomes much more protective of you. He wants to become stronger so he can protect you from anyone who tries to bully you or hurt you. His Hydrapple is gonna have a word or two with whichever idiot tries to disrespect your name in his presence.

Whenever he greets you, he tries not to catch you off guard from behind or something, since you can't exactly hear him coming. He really tries to respect your boundaries too, so if you feel uncomfortable with anything he does, he understands.

Slightly unrelated, but Kieran definitely flips people off a lot. He tries to be less pissed when he's around you, but on his own? He's saying "fuck you" to a LOT of people.

One time he tried explaining to a guy about your disability, and the guy had the nerve to do the 👉👌 sign at you as some kind of sick joke... the BBA Elite Four found that guy beaten into a bloody pulp on the ground later. Kieran was taking NO prisoners that day.

#pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon drayton #pokemon kieran #pokemon drayton x reader #pokemon kieran x reader #reader is mute/deaf #drayton is such a boyfailure #but he tries his hardest god bless #kuro writes

[eros-vigilante]

The Many References in Teniwoha's Samsa

If you haven't read "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka, the one thing you likely know about the short story is that in it a man turns into a bug. And this is enough to recognize the allusion of Samsa being named after the protagonist, Gregor Samsa, as well as the imagery of a dragging tail and onomatopoeia of "zuki". However, there are several deeper layers to Teniwoha's symbolism of themes and references to "The Metamorphosis" that add a great level of cohesion with Immiscible Discord's story. First, I would like to say that "The Metamorphosis" can be found as a free pdf online, and is a very good short story, so if you have the time and energy you should read it. This post will only be summarizing the themes that are referenced in Samsa and Immiscible Discord and will not include some of the other great commentaries Franz Kafka has. And of course, it will spoil the progression of the plot. Also, all quoted lyrics are from Amiaryllis' english cover, which is also very good and worth listening to. The lyrics will not be quoted in order.

The biggest and first theme the surrealist nature of the story expresses is that Gregor Samsa has been led to - and does - believe that his worth is tied to his ability to work. When he discovers he is a bug, he is only concerned because he is going to be late for his job if he cannot figure out how to get out of bed in his new body. He is determined to go to work because his entire family relies on his job to pay for their lives. ("i've grown monstrous down to the very core of my soul") This is comparable to Mafuyu's relationship to academics. Their mother relies on them to fulfill her dream of Mafuyu becoming a doctor, and so teaches them that nothing matters as much as this goal. Even when Mafuyu is stressed or physically ill, they push themselves to attend school, club activities, cram school, and study. Mafuyu's academic performance is their worth to their mother, as Samsa's income is his worth to his family. ("so could the bravest of souls face me and bear the toll?") When Samsa's family discovers he is an insect, they are horrified. Samsa finds this reasonable as he also considers his form monstrous. It is another theme of the story being from his perspective that he has good faith in his family to the point of seeming either naive or to have a low self-esteem. Actions that are most easily justified as disgust and hatred are rationalized by him, despite acknowledging at points that his family was not as affectionate to him after they began relying on him for money, as well as acts of physical violence such as his father shoving him back into his room.

("those painful fights, fearful nights") This is an interesting thing to compare to Mafuyu's experience of being gaslit by their mother. They believe very strongly- because they were told- that everything their mother is doing is for them, their future, and is in their best interests. This prevents them from questioning her actions and sacrificing their own desires in a self-destructive manner, which is also something Samsa does. For instance, he hides himself with a bedsheet so his sister does not have to see him when she brings him food, despite him finding this uncomfortable. ("craving any smile or attention just from you") Samsa's sister is the only one who still shows affection towards him, as she is the one who brings him food, but eventually she too festers fear towards and dehumanizes him. By the end of the story, the entire family blames their despair on him becoming an insect and no longer believe he is Gregor Samsa. The most direct reference to the story in the lyrics is when his father throws apples at him and has to be stopped from killing him by his wife, Gregor's mother. He crawls back into his room and he is locked inside. ("i beg, don’t throw those rotten apples at my chest before they lock up, lock up samsa") This could best reference when Kaito says that Mafuyu's mother is killing their feelings or true identity. Additionally, Mafuyu's mother places all blame for Mafuyu's recent behavior on Kanade's influence. And as the family plans for their life after his death, Mafuyu's mother tells Kanade that she plans to convince Mafuyu to go back to doing what she wants, no matter how extreme she must be about it. ("if it all goes to plan, then, we’ll soon rejoice") In the end, Gregor Samsa stops eating, and dies of starvation. All the while, he still thinks fondly of his family and believes they are in the right for their treatment of him. Gregor Samsa is used to form a strong representation of the extent to which Mafuyu has been gaslit. ("so please don't tell me that you'll be giving up on reality, samsa") The biggest difference (other than the bug transformation) is that Mafuyu has people who still dearly care about them, and not just for what they can provide. While all of Gregor Samsa's family abandons him, the other members of Nightcord do not abandon Mafuyu. Mafuyu has a reason to live, and people to tell them that they do not deserve to be locked away. ("i know that brilliant light will shine as the clock strikes 25")

He could already hardly feel the decayed apple in his back or the inflamed area around it, which was entirely covered in white dust. He thought back of his family with emotion and love. If it was possible, he felt that he must go away even more strongly than his sister. He remained in this state of empty and peaceful rumination until he heard the clock tower strike three in the morning. He watched as it slowly began to get light everywhere outside the window too. Then, without his willing it, his head sank down completely, and his last breath flowed weakly from his nostrils (Franz Kafka).

#mafuyu asahina #immiscible discord #mafumom #samsa teniwoha #franz kafka #prosekai #n25

[shippyo]

Question for life: What’s your relationship with Morpho?

[this ask will have my own lore related to Morpho hope ya all enjoy💖]

also,i think [this] soundtrack might fit🩷

Morpho...Yes, she is very special to me, she is my daughter, the first of all, I reborn her myself with my own hands,lemme tell you the story...

Before long,long ago in immemorial times, far from when it all began but close to the dawn of it, Morpho was another and a completely different being, a young girl from a world that feels lost even in my memory,that, somehow in a way that I have never known,fell to my dimension, wounded, confused, with living tears.

I remember that being when asked who I was and after I explained myself she told me

"Why have you been so cruel to me?"

That paralyzed me,i..i been cruel,it was the first i realized such thing that my whole existence is contradiction,i bring wonders yet suffering to all living beings,even if im not able to control what happens.

That poor being cried for every terrible misfortune that occurred in her life, abuse, wars, the fall of her world, she was still alive, of course, but she begged me not to return, not even to go to the afterlife and rest in peace, no, the pain that her tears brought was so breaking that she wanted to disappear from existence itself.

Obviously it's not something I wasn't going to do, I COULDN'T even if I can do it, it was unfair, it wasn't her fault that her life went so miserable to such disgrace thought in her mind came into it with no return to change it,she was lost, in exchange, I asked her permission to not go to such path, but rather be something new and somehow,she accepted, thinking that would end all.

In all honesty, at that moment I was not clear about the extent of my power, I knew that I had it and that I could do something outside of normal understanding for others but that pulse in me screamed for act different and so, I grabbed her face and my hands shone with intense light.

Without realizing it, the body disappeared when my palms closed, I felt fear for the first time thinking i destroyed her being, but I suddenly felt the flutter of a butterfly.

When I opened my hand, that butterfly that you all know so much came out and it didn't take long to complete its own metamorphosis as a new being.

The being before Morpho had disappeared, my power had a price to pay, in a way.

I don't know the reason but all those who are reborn from my hands forget in a certain way their old being, not as if it had never existed, they are not unconscious of what they experienced, but their souls feel pure,different and determined in wanting to defend life in being a new them, I feel them as an extension of me and they are condemned to a strange line where they cannot die for being so tied to me and yet even if she knew this she...

Looked at me happy, with a passion for living on her face that was not there before and thanked me for what I had done, although she felt sadness for her former self and her past,she now understood how beautiful it was to be there.

From there she named herself, "Morpho" and she felt indebted to me, although I did not want to,she insisted that to fight for me, defend, be the judge of beings of all those infinite dimensions, save others like who she was before, I do not like to feel that Im using her because I accepted her like some short of puppet, but even so, she has always seemed happy since then to serve me as a knight of life.

From then on, I was her mother and hundreds, billions like Morpho today are part of this family and I love them all equally.

Although...sometimes I wonder if I could use my power to reverse that strange "immortality" that ties them to me, I wish they could continue happy as they are now, but return to the mortality of life so that they finish their true cycle and not be attached to such tasks..I know I can and maybe one day I will have the courage to do it for the first time.

@kirbyoctournament

learn more of life lore [here!]

#shippysillyart #fanart #life propaganda #life oc #morpho knight #morpho butterfly #morpho knight kirby #kirby fanart #kirby series #kirby morpho knight #kirby oc (life) #kirby oc tournament propaganda #kirby oc tournament #kirby oc #kirby

[writerscall]

i cannot be your friend, so i pay the price of what i lost. and what it cost now that we don't talk.

because pushing her away was easier than having to stomach seeing her be with someone else.

author's note/s: 1k words. this is part one of a series. close friends to sad strangers to surprise college roommates is a trope, right?

Ignoring Hazel for the rest of the year wasn’t an easy decision or any easy thing to do. You two weren’t attached at the hip but you were such good friends that even the people who didn’t really talk to either of you eventually asked if you two had a falling out. We’re both just pretty busy at this time of senior year, you’d tell them; you had no idea what Hazel’s answer was to that, and you didn’t wanna know. It hurt you to ice her out but after what happened at the game, you just couldn’t be around her. Not when it was clear that PJ was in the picture like that.

Really, you should’ve been happy for her. You were one of the first people she came out to and even though she never explicitly said it, you knew she wanted to experience one relationship, or even a sort of fling, before high school ended. But your wishful thinking that it could’ve been the two of you in the end like some cliche really was just that — wishful thinking. That kiss and the way she and PJ acted around each other after said it all.

So you blocked it all out. Joined some clubs to fill up your schedule and actually make you as busy as you said you were, focused on academics like never before, got closer to other friends (for obvious reasons but also, why the hell not? It was senior year and you might not see some of them again). Overall, there were pros to what you decided to do about your crush on Hazel Callahan. You were making the most out of a sucky situation.

What you weren’t proud of was deciding to go out with the baseball team’s captain on a whim, and then agreeing to really date him after. He was nice and was a pretty good boyfriend, but you weren’t as into him as he was into you. But that was the least of your concerns throughout that relationship that inevitably came to an end as graduation neared.

You’ll never forget the complicated look on her face the day he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek at your locker. You’ll never forget the ‘Can we talk now? Please?’ text she sent that night, her last attempt at reaching out before she took to ignoring you too.

And that was it. Hazel wasn’t part of your senior year until its end and you assumed it would be the same for the rest of your life, or at least for a long, long time.

But the universe just loved playing cruel tricks sometimes.

“Okay, you’re sure you’ve got everything? Those new notebooks, your writing materials, enough bras and pa—”

“Okay, mom!” You cut her off with a nervous laugh, silently thanking god that your roommate and whoever was helping her move in hadn’t arrived yet. “I’ve got it all, I promise. It’s okay for you to go now.”

Your mother sighs as she reaches out to give your arm a squeeze, and after a few more pointers for your first day and about five ‘you can always give us a call for anything’ reminders, you were alone. You smile to yourself as you look at your fixed up side of the dorm, jittery in a good sense. Everyone said college was different from high school in the best way and you were determined to make it so. Even though you knew how much busier and hectic life would get with university level academics.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door open. It’s only when that painfully familiar voice says your name that you snap out of it.

Hazel Callahan, practically the same as ever, standing in the doorway with her luggages and a duffel bag across her body. She manages a smile, small and hesitant. To your surprise, all you can say is, “You’re my roommate?”

Her face twitches in disappointment, smile faltering noticeably. You didn’t mean for that to come off the way it clearly did but the question escaped you before you could think. Of all the people in the world — or even just of all the people in high school, it just had to be her? You were over Hazel. You’d tried so hard and honestly haven’t thought about her much at all since graduation.

Only for all that effort to feel like it was undone within seconds. Fantastic.

“Trust me, I… I didn’t know this would be the arrangement. My mom’s got an old friend here who could probably do a room switch for one of us — I mean, for me I guess, you’ve already got your side of the room fixed up while I’m still all packed, so—”

You put a hand up to stop her. “Hazel, it’s fine. We can share this room. All that stuff from…” You let the sentence trail off and clear your throat. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore, it never really has.”

Though expecting her to brighten even slightly at your attempt at an olive branch, her expression stays the same. Complicated actually, like the one she had upon seeing you and your (short-lived) senior year boyfriend for the first time in school. You try not to think about it.

“Anyway, I’ve got some things to go check with the registrar’s office, so I’ll get out of your hair so you can unpack and all that.” There was nothing to check with at the registrar’s office, but you needed to find some place that wasn’t your dorm to pull yourself together. Or maybe scream.

There’s a look of understanding on her face but shakes her head at you. “You wouldn’t be in the way. We could use this time to catch up. It’s been a long while, you know?”

Well, you certainly weren’t ready for that, so you just say something about wanting to get to the office while it wasn’t too busy yet. You cast her a side glance with a smile that you really hoped didn’t look forced or fake as you watch her bring in her things, then make a beeline for the door. 

But you stop when she asks, “Hey, um, maybe we can sit with each other at the orientation tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” And you knew that didn’t sound forced or fake with the way Hazel almost grins at you.

Yeah, you really needed to find a place to scream somewhere on campus.

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fanfic #hazel callahan