#the patterns behind each character combination are cool too
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i love this chapter page. all the different ways our party is and could have been formed. you can even make your own!
i'm a big fan of "Baby Squad and Their Begrudging Adoptive Father"
#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi spoilers#dunmmeshi#its kinda spoilers i guess#the patterns behind each character combination are cool too#delicious in dungeon spoilers
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A Trip Down Nostalgia Lane
This AU's been in existence for so long, and the most current iteration is so wildly different from the rest. As such, I felt it'd be kinda cool to show you guys how the AU's progressed over the years. I don't think it's too big of a problem to reveal what the initial plans were for each iteration, what I liked and didn't like, and my thought process behind forgoing the old ones
If you don't particularly care for all that, here's the iterations' major characters lined up. (Iteration 4 I only have revealed Asriel and Undyne, so the rest I've designed so far are silhouetted)
Iteration 0.5
Oh boy, where to begin with this one...?
I number it "0.5" and not "1" because there were only two parts that never even officially released on this Tumblr blog. I did upload Part 1 for an April Fool's joke a while ago. But really, it was only ever present on the TS!Underswap Discord server over half a decade ago.
To put it bluntly, Versotale at this point was just a reskinned Undertale roleswap AU. The personalities, while I tried to keep them intact, were not the main driving force. As such:
Asriel is a silent protagonist (And not in a cool clever way like Kris; I mean just straight-up silent)
The only difference with Undyne as a narrator was noting that Frisk was a human at the first save point
Flowey had a more formal speech pattern but was otherwise barely affected despite carrying Chara's consciousness. They weren't even named Asthana yet.
Frisk... well, I can give my past self this, he certainly made an effort to differentiate Frisk from Toriel. I can't say he did a GOOD job at that, but they certainly were different. Awkward dialogue, though, and not much sense behind why they were the mayor of the Ruins at 13 years old
Overall, you can 100% tell I made this as a young teen. Awkward dialogue, barely any effort put into the concept, unoriginal...
It's pretty easy to see why I forewent this version of the AU. Only two parts were ever made. I must thank @beethovenus who gave me a lot of very helpful critiques, such as giving Asriel a voice and making original sprites rather than using sprite edits, as well as encouraging me to make this Tumblr blog for it. Thus, brings us to what I'd like to consider the first PROPER attempt at this AU...
Iteration 1
Ah, this one... this ALSO lasted only two parts. Can't remember why. But I made a lot more headway on this one. Quality aside, I am happy that I had the guts to try and make original sprites of my own back then, even if they aren't particularly good compared to now.
This was where I really attempted to make the characters act noticeably different. Though there were still quite a lot of problems, some that would even persist all the way up until Iteration 4.
I wanted to give Asriel a combination of his regular and Flowey personalities. A cool idea on paper, but the lore doesn't support him acting like that well enough. Thus, I refer to this version of him as Sassriel. This was one of those problems that persisted up until Iteration 3.
Undyne having this snarky back-and-forth with Sassriel. Again, cool idea on paper, but it is not supported by her personality in Undertale, nor the altered circumstances in VT Iteration 1. Also, with Undyne being a disembodied consciousness, it means she's merely an observer of the story and not an active participant, meaning her dialogue got very boring very fast. Undyne in canon was always an active character, so putting her in a role that basically FORCED her to be a passive character was maybe one of the worst decisions I could've made that lasted way too long, all the way until Iteration 4.
You'll notice a whole bunch of characters that never actually saw the light of day in the comic. In the bottom row, starting from left to right, there would have been Pepper (Who DID have a design but I've lost it), Donavan, Dr. Aakil, Lily, and Queen Alice. There's not much to say about them story-wise since I mainly just got the designs down, and you can probably guess what the plot was gonna be like given this was the early days of the AU where it was still very much following the Undertale formula. I think the only UNIQUE things I should mention are that Aakil's version of the amalgamates would've been cyborgs.
Iteration 2
This is the one that's lasted the longest (so far), managing to push its way into the Cold West. I tried to break out of the Undertale formula a tiny bit with this one, to varying degrees of success. There's not much history I can recall or find with this iteration, but I suppose I can give a character rundown of the ones you never saw, ironically enough all positioned on the bottom row again.
Donavan... not very unique compared to Undyne. The main gimmick that separated him from her, I think, was that he had gloves designed by Aakil that were soul-powered.
Valencia... a new character who was meant to be an expanded version of Napstablook's role. Fun fact: Valencia's hooded trenchcoat design there was originally Pepper's Iteration 1 design.
Everyone else was... about what you'd expect.
Looking back on this version, I am... honestly very embarrassed by how badly I butchered the Cold West. I wanted to do so many cool things, like a bounty on Asriel's head and all. But my God... Spade and Pepper sucked so much. Especially Pepper. For characters who at this point were meant to be this AU's replacement of Sans and Papyrus... what poor substitutes.
And honestly, I think that's why I scrapped this one; because I hated the Cold West and how I did it. It felt rushed, awkwardly-written, bad characterization, horrifically-bad puzzles, etc. Thus, Iteration 3 was made.
Iteration 3: Hybrid
I nicknamed this short-lived one "Hybrid" for multiple reasons.
It's where Deltarune became an extremely prevalent influence in Versotale's universe. So no longer is Versotale just an Undertale AU, it can also be considered a Deltarune AU as well.
Many characters could be considered hybrids at this point. Asriel and Undyne shared determination and a body. And, more interestingly, the Mettaton role also shared a body with Mettaton. More about that in a bit
When I was making Part 10-B of Iteration 2, Iteration 3 was meant to flow naturally into it, effectively replacing all of what had came beforehand. That never worked out.
Ultimately, I abandoned this version because it just simply wasn't doing it for me. By this point, the project was beginning to feel stale and boring. Despite my attempts to make a new unique storyline, it just kinda... felt like it was still following in Undertale's footsteps far too much. I mean, you've got the protagonist kid, an old fallen member of their species, the double-crossing flower, a mentor who's lived in a secluded area all their life, a chef who wants to join the guard, a tough grizzled guard captain, a morally-dubious scientist, a celebrity, a monarch... you see how I became dislliusioned with the quality of what was supposed to be my "Unique Undertale storyline." The most unique thing at this point WAS probably Spade. But still, many elements of this version of the story were very fleshed-out. I tried to turn Pepper into a character who wasn't just a bargain-bin Papyrus clone, I had come up with a more unique Hotland area, and it probably could've turned out really nice.
I think the thing I genuinely really liked from this old version was that Shella (This iteration's celebrity character) actually was also possessed by Mettaton. There was this huge backstory thing where the scientist character had monster dust and was injecting humans with it, and since Mettaton was a ghost, his consciousness became attached to Shella's and served as her sort of "assistant." He gave her all the tips and confidence to become famous and gave Mettaton the opportunity to indirectly entertain humans like he always wanted. While a cool idea on paper, having... well, essentially Mettaton technically in the same place as canon Undertale again just felt cheap and lazy. Not to mention it only continued my disillusionment with my "unique story" being far too similar to Undertale for comfort.
But the Surface shenanigans this iteration... man, for as weird as Gaster being king was, I had such a cool thing planned for all the Ebottobia characters. It's something I wanna carry over into Iteration 4 to a certain extent.
Iteration 4: "King Asriel"
This one's really freaking cool. Going back to the drawing board completely, the story resembles almost nothing like Undertale's, with the sole exception of the main premise: People underground, free them from imprisonment through peace or violence.
I'm so proud of these ideas so far, you have no idea. The new Ruins area I'm excited for, the new Cold West feels like an actual proper flowing storyline now, the other areas have way more uniqueness, the characters feel like their own characters with their own stories now (Even the ones that appear in canon), the plot feels completely different... I think you all are really going to like it
That's all. Just felt like taking a trip down memory lane and share some ideas and designs the public never got to see.
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Hi! I totally love your SKZ Pack story and as a fellow skz abo writer, I was just curious if there was any meaning behind the scents you gave each of them? If not, that’s cool too, their scents suit them nicely either way! I can’t wait for the next chapter! (But please, take as much time as you want🩷)
Ooooh! I would love to read some of your skz abo sometime!
I am loving the universe I've discovered with this fandom. <3
Anyway, as far as scents go, I assigned them their subgenders first, and then I did some research on what pattern each subgender typically followed when it came to scent.
Typically, alphas scents are nature themed, more natural leaning.
Betas tend to be clean and artificial-think industrial or palate cleansing.
And omegas are usually food related, on the sweeter side, like confections or desserts.
So after I researched the categories, I then thought about each SKZ member individually-what I knew about them in real life, what I wanted their characters to translate as in the series, and what I thought of when I thought of them, and then I just combined all of those and came up with the scents that made the most scent to me and were the most comforting!
Hope this helps. And now you've seen a crazy part of my writer's brain out in the open. XD
#skz#stray kids#stay#skz!pack#inbox#reply#ask#moots#mutuals#my submissions#submission#anon#anonymous#sweet nonnie
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The last post was supposed to be a lot longer, but it got cut off because Tumblr is made of rocks. I’ve got a bit more to share, starting with a little bit of progress on World Eaters.
Finally got my hands on this guy again. I only need two more models to finish my World Eaters character collection: Azrakh the Annihilator and Angron. I also saved the Juggernaut body from my first Invocatus so soon I’ll have a Lord on Juggernaut as well
The fluff behind Lord Invocatus is so excessively metal that I can’t help but love it. The mental image of Avocado here galloping across the sky on a bridge of smoke and flame is one of the most raw things I think I am capable of imaging. That being said, the model is, like, very disappointingly not on fire, even if it’s still a banger model. I felt that this was a horribly missed opportunity, so I went about and built a reposed Invocatus with an added 3D fire effect from Deadly Print Studios to represent the bridge of flames. I’m really happy with this! Not only does the repose make him look larger and more ferocious, but the fire makes him look like the centerpiece that he should be, and the visual of him and his Juggernaut leaping over a plume of flame is sure to strike fear into the hearts of whoever I field him against. Or he’ll be the biggest target on the board because of his posing, and he’ll get shot and killed immediately. We’ll find out!
In the time since my last post, I’ve also come into possession of a few new neat 3D printed models for some little projects of mine, courtesy of an Ork-playing friend. This guy here is Tyrant Siege Terminator from the Iron Warriors Legion, the Chaos Legion that my Thunderbearers claim their heritage from (not that they’d know this, though).
Making that objective marker from a few posts ago was really fun, so I made some more ideas for custom ones to use with my factions. While I don’t exactly have a plan of action regarding this guy here, I do know that I’m going to turn him into some kind of relic recovery marker. A supremely apocryphal Chapter artifact of the highest sanctity, for the eyes of the most elite Thunderbearers only. An echo from a forgotten past, a powerless demigod from a lost era, frozen in time and waiting for 10,000 years. This’ll eventually be painted in Thunderbearers regalia and draped with either creeping vines and wild overgrowth, or dust, cobwebs, and rubble. Despite its heraldry, however, this ancient armor is still noticeably a Terminator pattern utilized almost exclusively by the Iron Warriors Traitor Legion. This implies that whichever venerable forebear originally adorned this armor would’ve either been a Battle-Brother of the Chapter’s earliest shrouded histories, or a later Astartes of such grand renown that he inherited what would’ve undoubtedly been one of the Chapter’s most valuable artifacts. Regardless, it’s a neat looking piece and not something that people will glean from first glance. It’s like a little Chapter Easter egg basically for me only, and that’s cool cuz it’s my army. <3
This beefy boy will be the subject of another objective marker. After a page describing each of the Chaos Gods, 9th Edition’s Codex: Chaos Daemons includes a two-page spread detailing anecdotes about various Daemon Worlds and how exactly they’d fallen to the Gods. The above excerpt from the Khornate incursion on a Daemon World named Tartora struck me as particularly visually poignant, so this boisterous Ork is gonna get turned into a statue of brass and bone. I’ll decorate his base with various skulls and lots and lots of blood. Maybe fire, too. I think a sort of glowing red vein effect on the base might be pretty cool. I’ll use him primarily with my World Eaters. Combined with a classic skull tower that I’m gonna make at some point, that means I’ll have two objective markers for both of my armies.
Moving on, I’ve been painting my dudes in what I believe to be their final color scheme for a good long while now. I’ve even started putting transfers on some of them as of a couple loads ago. That being said, I noticed that my most up-to-date heraldry sheet was kind of total garbage, and it didn’t represent the current look of the army whatsoever. This new heraldry sheet will be my (almost) final one; the colors are all correct, the helmets are all correct, and the Chapter icon has been edited and finalized. I may change the symbol signifying Chapter Honor Guard to be a set of tilted black stripes, sorts like hazard stripes but with the yellow replaced by Wraithbone. This could be another subtle nod to the Iron Warriors heritage as black stripes are a very common pattern, which means it could rationally be either an ambiguous heraldry of visually pleasing design, or iconography from culture that’s evolved slowly over the course of 10,000 years.
On the gameplay front, I recently played my first and likely final game of Strike Force in 9th with my brother. To send out 9th and usher in 10th, the Thunderbearers and Cobalt Lancers got together again for a good old fashioned “full-scale combat simulation.” They definitely used tracer rounds or something.
Most of my games are pretty standard but this one was great fun. We had very similar army compositions, with differences only in some key areas, like armor and HQ choice. The plan for us both was to forward deploy Infiltrator squads to hunker down on objectives, since we both took our Chapter-specific action secondaries. The mission we rolled, however, had better plans, and disabled setup rules in No Man’s Land, effectively making the Phobos forward deploy completely useless. It was a really even game, likely my favorite I’ve played so far, and I realize now after playing it that 2000pts is definitely the way that 40k is meant to be played. There were a lot of cool moments, too, and I think that was mostly facilitated by the higher point limit.
A Redemptor, an Aggressor Squad, an Eversor Assassin, and a Primaris Techmarine walk into a bar.
One of those cool moments was a chain of events that I’ll remember for a good long while. After my Predator las-sniped an enemy Redemptor, my own Redemptor stomped up to join two Space Marine columns locked in combat. After some intense combat, the Dreadnought was felled, surprisingly setting of an explosion, dealing mortals to literally everyone in the circle. The Techmarine takes the opportunity to kill the Eversor after this, who then explodes, killing the Techmarine. Earlier in the game, an Impulsor had exploded, and if I recall correctly, Big Harold exploded, bringing the game’s total explosion count to around 4 or 5. Fun!
My brother beat me on objectives, 26-40. He played his primaries far better than I did, and I was far too focused on killing his scary shit to properly run my secondaries. While I took out his Repulsor—the centerpiece of any good Cobalt Lancers army—during the game’s first BR, which significantly lessened his firepower and freed me up to move, aggressive pushes with his Impulsor and excellent positioning of his squads kept me at bay and I lost the inevitable Astartes vs. Astartes battle of attrition.
I hope that I can play some more 2000pts games here soon. I got my hands on a copy of the new Core Rulebook, so I’ll be hopefully be dipping my toes into the future of the 42nd millennium here soon. I’ve got some friends who wanna get back into the game with 10th, so I’ll be getting a couple Combat Patrol games in as well. Maybe Calthradia will follow into 10th, but the Crusade has been on hold for months now and I’m undergoing some significant life changes at the moment, so I doubt I’ll be making much consistent progress for a while.
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Cars 2 video disney wiki
His unrivaled technical skills, natural speed ability and cool, karate-inspired attitude make him a powerful contender too." His car also carries the flag of Grenada, home to his family who emigrated to Britain in the 1950s. With his striking metallic black and yellow paint scheme, Lewis will represent Great Britain at the World Grand Prix. Today, the celebrated native Brit continues to bring an exceptional work ethic and soft-spoken confidence to the race course where his extraordinary achievements speak for themselves via a spotless track record on the junior and professional circuits. Like all youngster cars, Lewis spent his childhood going to school, taking karate lessons and winning the British Karting Championship by the age of 10.
" Lewis Hamilton, the famously sleek and seriously fast #2 Grand Touring Sports champion, has been a determined and winning racer for nearly his entire young life.
He is friendly towards his opponents, and appears to have a close friendship to Lightning McQueen, as well as Jeff Gorvette and his replacements. Lewis is humble about his victories, and does not brag to others, unlike Francesco. He has a spoiler with yellow and black, as well as the World Grand Prix logo, on it. He has the number 2 painted on his doors, inside of a badge with his country and Grenada's flags and the WGP logo. He is painted completely black with yellow lining on his sides. Lewis' engine is a DOHC V-8, with a horsepower of 575. He has a top speed of 190 mph, and a 0-60 of 3.4 seconds. However, Lewis is modeled after a McLaren MP4-12C GT3, although he has some slight differences, notably in the appearance of his rear lights. In Cars 2: The Video Game, Lewis can only be found in the PSP version of the game, as an opponent during races.ĬARS 2 - Lewis Hamilton - Disney Pixar - Only at the Movies June 23Īccording to Meet the Cars Lewis is a 2009 Grand Touring Sport Special GBG. In the race, he and Jeff were in each other's positions, which he talks with Jeff while lining up, and raced beside him. After that, he raced in Radiator Springs. After the racers race through the Admiralty Arch he was seen in the 3rd position, passing Miguel. When the race begins, he was seen in the 4th position behind Miguel Camino.
Before the London race, Lewis was seen with Jeff laughing at Mater and McQueen in Mater's flashback. When the pileup of cars starts during the Italy race, Hamilton and Gorvette stop to avoid being hit and are the only racers to be able to do so, which he along with Jeff were the only cars who did not crash into Shu Todoroki, and a few of the racers who did not get hit by the Lemons' electromagnetic pulse generator. Lewis was seen at the Porto Corsa race behind Jeff Gorvette. He is then seen at the race, which he appears in all three. He then later appears with the other World Grand Prix racers when Mater is drinking from the fountain after having too much wasabi, which he thought was pistachio ice cream. When they notice Mater talking to Zen Master, he was wondering who he was with. In Cars 2, he first appears talking with Lightning McQueen and Jeff Gorvette when they arrive at the World Grand Prix opening ceremony in Tokyo, which he and Jeff meet McQueen. We had a great time sending pictures back and forth and sharing notes." He wanted the car to be black with yellow pinstriping, and he picked the wheels. His emblem combines the Union Jack and the flag of Grenada – which is on his actual helmet. Producer Denise Ream said: "He was very particular about what he wanted. Lewis Hamilton was directly involved in the design of his character, (and was also the only voice actor to do so): at his suggestion, the gray design was abandoned (and apparently passed on to Prince Wheeliam) and changed to the final yellow-striped black paint job, with different wheels. It seems that the gray color was chosen after the colors of the McLaren racing team. He had a grayish paint job with a ghost pattern of Union Jack, and wheel trims shaped after the Union Jack, exactly as the final design of Prince Wheeliam. Originally, Lewis was to be named Lewis Revington.
Hamilton chose the car’s final black and yellow paint scheme for the car in the movie. Lewis is based on, named after and voiced by the real British Formula One driver Lewis Hamilton.
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The jubilee weekend is well underway and what could be a more fitting topic for an interior design blog than royal purple? This is an amazing colour that harmonises with a wide range of other tones, materials, and design trends. Read on to learn all you need to know about using royal purple!
Why is purple royal?
In many of our blogs and in conversation, purple as a whole colour is often referred to as royal, but why is this? To understand the reasoning behind this noble epithet we must travel back in time – a long way back in time…
In the ancient world, people across the globe loved to use colour but in a pre-mass manufacturing age, purple was the hardest colour to create. In the Roman world, purple dye was made from rare snails which was extremely expensive. This celebrated Tyrian purple was the preserve of the Roman kings, and once they were booted out, senators were allowed to wear only a purple stripe on their togas. Purple really was a big deal in the ancient world!
This majestic reputation was adopted throughout the medieval and early modern eras through to the present day. While purple is no longer the legally protected reserve of the nobility, we still associate purple with a feeling of grandeur and sophistication.
What is royal purple specifically?
Royal purple is a chic shade of blue-magenta. It’s soft yet powerful, with an underlying richness to it. While clearly purple, the blue undertone to the colour makes it also flexible. Royal purple’s closest relatives are shades of plumb, violet and lavender.
Royal purple has been a popular colour in many aspects of life from sweet wrappers to clothing and home furnishings. In interior design, royal purple works well as a dominant colour in a space, through to a secondary supporting role.
Royal purple curtains in a high-quality velvet set within a cool, off-white space with matching purple lamp shades and cushions will make a room feel chic and welcoming in equal measure.
Which colours go with royal purple?
Royal purple is a great colour to use as part of an exciting and dynamic colour palette. Below, we’ve pulled together our top three perfect partners for royal purple!
Royal purple and platinum
We’re not only referencing this because it’s Her Majesty’s platinum jubilee, but it’s also actually an amazing partnership. Royal purple and platinum are both well known for their regal natures, but combined, they really shine. The main reason for this, beyond the lovely contrast of the brilliant silver and eye-catching purple, is the saturation of the later, and the shimmer of the former. Metallic tones are eye-catching in a different way to juicy non-metallic colours and few combinations will ever be as sophisticated as royal
Royal purple and cream
Purple and cream offer style conscious decorators the opportunity to create something that’s exciting, fresh and captures a characterful traditional style. Similarly to royal purple and platinum, using cream offers an excellent contrast between the colours to make each standout, but in a softer way. A lighter cream will help make a space feel modern and contemporary whereas a richer, warmer tone will make it look classically chic. Consider using purple and cream as part of a pattern for the best effect.
Royal purple and teal
For a space that’s modern, fun and punchy, add shades of teal to your royal purple decor. Teal and purple both have blue undertones so combining the two in a space will be sure to make it pop. Using bright, juicier shades of teal with accents of royal purple, will make sure the space doesn’t become too overbearing – especially if you use purple home accessories. You could even add in shades of soft neutrals to break up the space in a supremely chic and stylish way!
Anon, (2022). Colour Focus: Royal Purple & The Platinum Jubilee. [online] Available at: https://www.blindsdirect.co.uk/blog/colour-focus-royal-purple-the-platinum-jubilee [Accessed 21 Feb. 2024].
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Best Interior Designing Company in Patna - Space Creater
Space Creater is Best Interior Designing Company in Patna. Some Interior related points are:
Floor Plans & Elevations
This is where you gather all your information about the project. You should have a clear understanding of what the client wants and how they want it done before ever getting started. If you don't know exactly what they want yet, then it's probably best to just start off with your initial plan. I recommend doing a floor plan first, followed by an elevation plan. These plans help you get a good idea of what size rooms you'll need, the layout you'll need, and how big everything else will be. Take measurements from your drawings and make sure you're using actual measurements for everything (in case they change their mind). In my opinion, you should always stick to the larger dimensions of room sizes, especially if they're paying you money. Make sure you leave enough space between doors and windows. Doors should never be less than 6 inches away from any window, and windows should never be closer than 2 feet away from any door. There should be minimum 10 feet between each interior wall and exterior wall. You don't want any potential moisture to seep behind your walls. You also want to keep at least 4 square feet of open space per person in your house.
Interior Paint Colors
I've noticed many people choose to paint their houses white. White is great for a fresh clean look, but it can sometimes feel cold and stark. There are so many interesting colors out there, including warm tones and cool tones. Choosing the right color can add some personality and character to your home. Darker colors will tend to provide warmth and offer a sense of coziness. Light colors tend to create a feeling of airiness and openness. To get the perfect combination of these two different concepts, try picking a neutral color. Neutral colors are those that do not stand out in terms of either warm or cool. Choose something that is a little bit of both and is still pleasant to the eye. A nice example would be choosing a soft gray or taupe. Be careful though! Too much of this type of color can be overwhelming and make a room seem boring. Try mixing a few shades of gray together for a unique style.
Wallpaper Patterns
Wallpaper patterns are fun and exciting additions to your home. You can use them to give a simple and clean look to your walls, or if you're creative, you can transform them into unique designs. When selecting a pattern, think about what you want to accomplish. Is it a casual, modern look? Or perhaps you want a traditional farmhouse feel? It's easy to find free wallpaper patterns online that you can download to print out yourself.
Lighting
Lighting is probably the most overlooked aspect of designing an interior space. It takes lighting to really bring a space together. Once again, play around with different colors and styles until you find the right fit. Remember, the goal is to make the room bright without making it glaringly bright. You can achieve this easily by adding dimmer switches to your bulbs. Dimming lights gives the illusion of being brighter while actually providing less light. Just make sure to avoid going too dark.
Space Creater (Best Interior Designing Company in Patna) website address is https://spacecreater.com
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One More
Genshin makes my imagination vibrate pleasantly. I just want to give Kaeya a reason to make me go “Oh?” cause he’s not even my one of my favs. But the sheer sex appeal coming from that man is dangerous.
Characters: Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) x Reader
Warnings: Yandere, Groping, Innuendos, Alcohol, Aphrodisiacs, Insults
»»———————— ♡ ————————««
“Hey there, Sweetheart. What’s bringing you to the tavern so late at night?”
You had barely entered Angel’s Share and sat down at the bar before hearing the ever-so chipper voice of the cavalry captain drawing closer. There was nothing strange about meeting Kaeya here after a long day of work, but you and Charles exchanged a glance, the bartender sighing deeply. “I’ve only served him two drinks so far,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but think that was already one too many.
But who were you to say no to the Kaeya?
Perhaps better than anyone, Kaeya knew about the little game you two were playing. The always so icy shoulder you gave him as he continued to pressure you with his flirts was only making him want you so much more. You couldn’t count the number of times he had stopped you in the headquarters, pinned you between him and the wall - in broad daylight nonetheless - asking how you’re doing and if you need help with anything. You. Were. Sick of it! If he wanted a child to play father for, he could ask Klee to hang out with him! You, on the other hand, were a remarkable knight, trusted enough with complicated orders that - luckily! - kept you out of the city for a prolonged time so you could avoid him.
It only was hard when you weren’t on duty. Or in the city. Or close to him.
That’s when he became frisky, rather needy too.
Kaeya brushed his face from the left side of your head to the right, taking a deep breath. If it wasn’t known that you two reached back all the way to your training days, anyone would have raised an eyebrow. But most of the other guards were able to brush off his weirdness for affectionate friendship. It was almost like only you could see behind the farce, and perhaps his estranged brother. Not like Diluc had been any help to you, though, aside from breaking Kaeya off you once or twice when he was around and noticing your discomfort.
Taking up the stool beside you, there was no prior question if the seat was taken. A rather empty keg arrived with Kaeya at the bar, and he briefly tapped the rim until Charles fished for another bottle of alcohol to fill it up with. One could say Kaeya and a drink were a good mix, but to you, they were a terrible combination. Drinking made him bold. Unrestrained even.
Even though he offered his keg to you, you merely looked away, sipping at your own glass, one you much rather preferred to the brew he drank his night away with. Grinning, he instead took a hearty sip, leaning against the counter leisurely as he watched the bards perform near the entrance, but you didn’t miss even a single glance he sent your way every few seconds.
It was very unfortunate that you liked Angel’s Share for its drinks best; otherwise, you’d have had a good reason to avoid the establishment. But at the same time, you couldn’t let Kaeya direct all of your life. It was no state that you shouldn’t do what you enjoyed just because he could be there, and yet, you considered it.
“So, how was your mission? I’ve been missing your skills at training.”
“It was fine,” you answered curtly, uninterested in the conversation he initiated. There weren’t many people you talked to when you came back to Mondstadt. Somehow… it had always been hard for you to make friends with the other knights. Part of you suspected Kaeya being a reason why no one seemed to want to hang around, forcing you to spend most of your training with him since no one was willing to spar with you. Then again, you never had any evidence to confirm your suspicion, just like with many other phenomena you experienced over the years.
More than once had there been instances where your orders had been withdrawn just when you came close to solving the problems, often with the excuses that you were still too inexperienced or needed somewhere else. It had been so hard to raise in the ranks while Kaeya seemed to make leaps forward without a worry, but at least, you managed to secure your place now--one far away from the cavalry captain.
Sighing, Kaeya turned around to face the counter again, plopping his arm around your shoulders. Uncomfortably, you rolled your joints, but he instead pulled you closer to him, the smell of alcohol drafting off his lips as he spoke. “No need to play coy. You know you can tell me the truth. Didn’t you miss being home? I’m sure cleaning up those camps must have been exhausting!”
Missed being with me? seemed to be the words he wanted to say, but he packaged them in a way he knew they’d actually affect you. Kaeya had always been clever enough to poke the places that hurt. Of course, you missed home. You’d miss it more if not for him, but you had your family here, your siblings and parents that you’d like to see more often. But there was no chance with how much Kaeya liked to interfere in it. As if he was already part of your family, inviting himself and always showing up unannounced to hang out.
“‘Twas okay,” you replied after a moment of thought.
“Well, I missed you,” he chuckled before taking another sip of his keg. “I missed you sooo much!”
That was enough for you, brushing his arm off roughly before turning on your stool to leave. You knew even finding another space to sit wouldn’t spare you from him, and if you ended up in a less crowded area, you didn’t want to imagine what he’d do. “Aw, come on,” you heard behind you as he gripped your arm, making you stop. “I get it, I get it, you’re tired. But you can’t be tired enough not to drink one more with your old pal, right?”
With his voice rising in volume, you two finally gained some attention, and you instantly felt a rush of embarrassment as you stared into quite a few pairs of perplex eyes. Kaeya might have been eccentric, but he was well-liked nonetheless. Causing a scene had never worked well for you, and since you were already deemed an outsider, you’d only catapult yourself more into the shadows if any rumors spread after you left.
Clicking your tongue, you tore yourself out of his grip before sitting back on your chair again, holding up your finger. “One more. Only one more.”
“Of course,” Kaeya grinned, getting his will once again. “Only one.”
»»————— ♡
Hot lips brushing against each other, you had no better way to describe your state of being other than burning. For someone so cool and with an icy skill, Kaeya was not even close to being cold and reserved when it came to touching you. With a smile displayed on his mouth whenever he wasn’t using it to tease you, you could barely remember how you two ended up making out in one of the backstreets of Mondstadt. His hands were seemingly everywhere, and at the same time, lingered at the spots that created an audible cue from you when he squeezed them.
“You’re so sensitive,” he noted as you hung in his arms, hands currently squeezing your ass from your thighs upwards. “That’s good, I like that.”
“Fucker,” you merely cursed back. “You only said one more drink! I feel like shit! What the hell was that?”
“On the contrary, you feel amazing,” he ignored your questions, pushing his leg between yours as he pressed you closer to the cold stone wall behind you. A welcome sensation, giving you back some of your senses as the chill helped to calm your heated body. “I fucking hate you, Kaeya,” you confessed drunkenly, but the time was as good as any to say it.
“Ouch,” he brushed it off with a chuckle. “Are you sure? Your body grinding against mine is giving me very different vibes, Darling.”
Next thing, he was back in your mouth, his tongue roaming and keeping yours busy as you slung your arms around him. “You’re so stupid and mean, always testing everyone. You’re probably the reason everyone is avoiding me too, and you don’t let off no matter how much I tell you to leave me alone!”
“Mhm,” he hummed as his lips wandered down your neck, making you stretch it out for him so he could reach better. “And now... I don’t even know! You drugged me?!”
A soft laugh escaped him before you felt a suck at your collarbone, followed by the wet sensation of a tongue tasting your skin. “Bingo, Baby. Lisa really wanted to know what would happen if someone drank this potion and you were all too eager to get it down your throat-”
“To get away from you!” you interrupted him.
“Whatever.”
Finally, Kaeya came up on eye level again, the two of you staring at each other for a moment in silence.
“Whatever?” you questioned, confused by his reaction.
“Yeah, whatever. I think kissing you made me swallow at least, hm... half of it too. Even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t be able to stop now, don’t you think?”
One of the most disgusting grins you had ever seen on the face of a person played around his lips as he pressed up to you, uniting you two in another kiss. Of course, you could stop it! You could, and you would right now. After all, you had allowed it to go on for far too long now! Pressing your hands into his shoulders, Kaeya let out a soft sigh against your lips, his uncovered eye closed as he enjoyed the affection. “One more,” he mumbled as he kissed you again and again, feverishly and impatiently. “I’ve been waiting forever to do this.”
With the excitement of a teenage boy, his hands roamed your body, pulling out the shirt from your trousers to lodge themselves beneath it. Skillful fingertips drew patterns over your skin, up your spine, and down your sides until you were gasping and shivering in his grasp. “Good,” he sighed against your lips, unbothered by you still trying to push him away, only ever flinching as he groped you. “Don’t you already know it? How much you drive me crazy? It’s only fair I drive you crazy too.”
“What the fuck are you even talking about--” you tried to contradict him. But Kaeya was quick to muffle your voice with another deep kiss. Intentionally or not, he met one of your sensitive spots as he explored you, causing a hitched moan to escape you, followed by a satisfied grunt from him. “I’ve been waiting for so long, I can’t have you take it from me now,” he breathed out huskily.
“I’ll scream!” you threatened him. “Let me go now, Kaeya!”
“Ah-ah,” he rebuked you, one of his hands being freed of groping-duty to cover your mouth. “No one’s going to take you away from me now either. Come one, be good, okay?”
Waiting for the right moment, Kaeya couldn’t endure your angry stare for very long before falling into soft laughter. “All right, all right,” he chuckled before leaning forward brushing his lips against his hand. “One more kiss, okay? I will leave you alone after that.”
Furrowing your brows even more, he interpreted you shaking your head as a ‘no’, letting out a long, “Aww…”
“Only one more, pretty please?”
You had to give it to him: persistency was something he didn’t lack. It felt like shooting into your own foot, but part of you just wanted it to be over. You two had kissed so much up till now; how much worse would one more be? And if he let you go afterwards, you could definitely endure it. Lifting up your hand to yank his from your mouth, Kaeya didn’t expect you to take the initiative, looking at you perplexed as you leaned forward to kiss him. No one ever taught you how to kiss, and without his directions, you weren’t actually sure on how any of it worked, but he didn’t seem to mind, humming a pleased tune before returning your awkward smooches.
When was a kiss one kiss? When the lips parted? After the first initial touch? Kaeya’s definition was two minutes of continuous connection between you two, only briefly drawing back for air but never without upholding the contact by biting and pulling on your lip or having your tongue following his out of your mouth into the cold night. He gripped your head tightly in his palms, not allowing you to get away. Only when he let go did you fall back hard against the wall as you two finally broke apart, and you hadn’t noticed how much he had held you up.
The rich flavor of alcohol on your tongue and his scent in your nose didn’t help with getting a clear mind, but nothing about you made sense anymore. Now that he had let you fall back and away from him, you felt even hotter than before, your body clearly bothered by the lack of stimulation. What part of ‘I wanted none of this’ did you not understand yourself? At least by the throbbing in your abdomen, you could tell that whatever kind of potion he had given to you definitely wasn’t a fun experience, but all the more potent.
“Hurts, huh?” he laughed across from you. “Oh, fuck off,” you mustered to say, but the pain was obvious by your expression. You were barely able to keep yourself up properly.
“I’d offer my help, but you made it clear you didn’t want it.” The situation must have been really funny to him, only agitating you more. If it at least hadn’t been Kaeya, you might have accepted help, but you knew you’d have to get yourself home now all by yourself in a state of constant heat with no way to resolve it.
“You caused all of this! You should at least take responsibility without taking advantage of the situation!”
Pushing yourself away from the wall, you decided it was time to step away. There was no use in talking with Kaeya, but the moment your support dwindled, you noticed how wobbly your legs felt, barely capable of holding you up. What had you trained all these years for if a mere potion could make you so incredibly weak? Before you could get back to the wall, one knee gave away, making you sink to the ground where you could barely catch yourself with your hands.
“It’s really working you hard, isn’t it?” you heard him speak down from above. Squatting to your level, you felt his hand slide through your hair before gripping and lifting your head to face him. “Tell you what: If you ask nicely, I’ll help you. Can’t promise you’ll wake up in your bed tomorrow morning, but a bed nonetheless, wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Fuck you,” you hissed back, and he shook his head, disappointed.
“Try again.”
What choices did you have? Risk the little bit of reputation you still had by being found in the morning, disheveled and drunk from the night before? The knights absolutely hated anything that would ruin their pristine prestige, so much even you knew. You had worked so hard to get where you were, could you really risk all of it? “... please,” escaped you before you could think it through further.
“What was that?” he teased you, and you wondered why he could still be so clear even after drinking much more than you did and having had a taste of the potion from your lips. “Please help me get home.”
This time, he laughed out loud, obviously amused by how pitiful you had to behave to please him. “One more time. Say it one more time, and say it nice.”
Frustrated, you wished you could have punched him in the face, but you only bit your lip, taking a deep breath before complying. “Please, Kaeya. I need your help to get home. Please help me home!”
Embarrassment was all you could think about as he conditioned you to do as he wanted, but finally, after you did what Kaeya demanded, he petted your head, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before reaching under your arms to pull you up. “Look at you, all cute and begging me for help.”
Quickly being lifted from the ground, you found your new halt by gripping into his shoulders tightly and wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you in front of him. “You’re so adorable!” he chuckled as you clung to him much more in fear of him letting you fall than because you wanted it. He seemed to have similar thoughts, giving you a bit of a scare as he let go of you, having you hang from him by only your own strength, which you didn’t trust anymore. But just as quickly, your horrified expression made him laugh, and he gave your rear a teasing slap. Lucky for you, Kaeya didn’t make you fear any longer, embracing you back and allowing you to sink against him more as he started to make his way through the streets of Mondstadt. From an onlooker’s point of view, it might have seemed like you jumped him out of joy, but really, you clung on as if your life depended on it while Kaeya seemingly enjoyed the hug.
“Just get me home, you Asshole,” you grumbled, but your insults didn’t do any damage to his good mood. “Sure, I’ll get you home,” he replied chipper, but you already had bad thoughts as you heard that.
“At least, the place I call ‘home’,” he confirmed your suspicion, and inwardly, you already admitted defeat even as you punched your fist into his shoulder.
“You know how it is,” he brushed it off lightly, patting your backside while he climbed the stairs towards the headquarters with seemingly no effort.
“I can never refuse you or leave you be. I adore you way too much.”
#Kaeya#Kaeya Alberich#Kaeya genshin#yandere!kaeya#yandere kaeya#genshin#genshin impact#yandere genshin#yandere genshin impact#yandere!genshin#yandere!genshin impact#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere fanfiction#yandere writing#yandere stories#yandere oneshots#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#Yandere TW
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Forever
Hanta Sero x F!Reader NSFW
Summary: After years of being together, you and Sero decide to reminisce in the best way possible.
WC: 2.2K
A/N: Hi friends! Sero is one of those characters that I truly see as good husband material and I wanted to express some of those feelings in this piece. I know for a lot of us, especially in my age range, growing up and leaving that age of “dumb teenager/early 20′s mess” to “adult with responsibilities” is a big change and I hope that is reflected a bit in this. Also, there’s car sex. So that’s fun :D As always, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 P.S: CAN WE TALK ABOUT SERO IN THE NEW EP??? ahhhh
TW: car sex, adulting/getting older, domestic relationship, daddy kink, breeding kink, mentions of drug use
Sero's eyes stared at the glowing screen, trying to comprehend the information yet again.
His gaze darted toward the corner, 3:36 A.M., and he yawned, before blinking and trying to re-read the document again.
"Hey pretty boy."
The smell of jasmine perfume and honey wafted in and he smiled sleepily as you ran your fingers through his shaggy black hair.
"Mm...I know, I know." He muttered, nuzzling into your touch. You were his rock, always making sure he ate well and slept enough, making sure he wouldn't overwork himself. Sero thought back to your UA days of sneaking out at 3 AM to some fast food joint and getting stoned while eating greasy fries in the back of his car. Time sure flew, huh?
You rested your head on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his neck.
"Come to bed. Paperwork will still be there in the morning, I promise.", you muttered into his soft skin. He relented and pulled himself out of the chair, twirling you around so he had you pressed against the wall.
His eyes roamed your face. You were still gorgeous as the day he first laid eyes on you in high school.
"Whatcha thinkin' about, Hanta?" you whispered. He grinned, that toothy smirk that you fell in love with unchanged after all these years, and kissed you.
"Just reminiscing. Thinking about how far we've come. Remember when we were annoying teenagers, sneaking out of the dorms?"
"I'm pretty sure we are the reason for Aizawa's grey hairs now. Remember when your van broke down and we had to beg Bakugo to pick us up at 4 A.M.?" you giggled back, thinking of the blonde's angry scolding the entire ride home.
The two of you chuckled quietly, thinking about the years past. You glanced down at your hand, the sparkling diamond that adorned it shining in the dim room.
"I remember the day you proposed too. I'm pretty sure I thought you were going to dump me." you teased.
Even in the dark, you could see his face flush and his eyes narrow.
"I was NERVOUS. I was trying to ask the love of my life to spend the rest of our lives together and you just sat there being beautiful and Denki spent the day before trying to convince me to do a flash mob and it was a LOT of pressure!"
"You literally started off with, 'We've had some bad times, and some good times, and this was fun'." You laughed, picturing his face that day. He was sweating bullets and your heart was sinking, thinking he was ending it. He had been so secretive and weird the weeks prior, as opposed to his normally chilled out demeanor.
Sero kissed your forehead.
"I still have no idea why you said yes, but you're stuck with me, babe." He clinked his matching band against yours, a gesture the two of you did to remind yourselves of your unbreakable bond.
His long arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him and you buried yourself into his chest, smelling his citrus-scented soap. He rested his chin on your hair.
"When did we get so old, Y/N?" He whispered, his eyes looking at the walls behind you. Pictures of the two of you decorated the house. The pair of you in matching sunglasses at the beach, a group photo of you two and the squad at dinner after the aforementioned proposal, a candid on your wedding day, and then the two of you holding your twin boys.
"I'm pretty sure after we became parents." you mumbled into his chest, your sleepiness apparent in your voice. "I think once I had to say Daddy in a non-sexual way, was when I realized we were old."
Sero chuckled quietly, his hands squeezing your waist.
"But, we're still cool right? We aren't our parents."
You looked up at him, eyebrows raised.
"Hanta, are you worried about getting older?"
He closed his eyes.
"Not worried as much as...I just...I don't wanna be an old guy who drives a minivan and talks about retirement and golf."
Your eyes widened and you burst into laughter.
"Baby, I'm pretty sure you would never take up golf."
Sero pouted and you grinned before continuing.
"But in all seriousness, we aren't the kids we were in high school. Maybe we can't pull all nighters and still function the next day, and maybe we have to be parents who eat more vegetables and less french fries. But it's also nice to have a car that doesn't require a running start to move, and have a house instead of sneaking in and out of each other's dorm rooms. And you know, the kids are KIND OF cool."
He nodded.
"They are pretty cool kids."
You cupped his face, tilting him towards you.
"If I have to grow old with someone, I'm glad it's with you."
His face flushed and he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You gently tugged at the longer hair behind his ears as you kissed him back. He let out a low groan and his hands kneaded at your curves, squeezing your ass and hips.
Finally, the two of you broke apart, breathless and grinning. He pressed his forehead to yours.
"How about…we reminisce a little more? Maybe...in the car, for old time's sake?"
You nodded and the two of you headed to the garage, trying to stay as quiet as possible to not wake up the kids. Sero opened the car door and the two of you slid in the backseat, giggling like teenagers.
You straddled him and could feel his cock through his joggers. He groaned as you grinded against it, teasing him with hungry hot kisses to his neck.
“You’re such a tease, princess.” He whispered before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. Your body shivered at his touch. Even after all this time, he made you feel like a lovestruck schoolgirl. You ran your hands down his toned chest, his body lean from hero work, and slid your fingers underneath his shirt.
Sero took this as an invitation to pull off his black tank top and you did the same to your sleeping shirt, an old band tee that you snagged from him. His hands cupped your breasts, slowly kneading the soft flesh as he placed soft kisses on your collarbone and shoulder.
“Mmm...you’re so fucking beautiful. How the hell did I get so damn lucky, babe?” He said between kisses. Sero had a way of making you feel like the sexiest woman in the world and you couldn’t help but smile as he worshipped your breasts, kissing and licking his way down till he latched his mouth over your nipple.
Using his other hand to tweak and tug at the hardened bud, he alternated between the two, sucking and leaving soft bites. Your back arched involuntarily, pushing your chest deeper into his mouth as you moaned.
“Fuck…need you Hanta.”
His long fingers worked their way down your belly, tracing circular patterns as he reached your sex. He ran a finger across your slit, barely parting your folds.
“What do you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you want.”
“Please...please touch me. Please daddy.” you begged, grinding yourself against him for the smallest amount of friction. You could feel yourself leaving a mess on his sweatpants, but you needed his touch.
He let out a deep chuckle.
“So desperate, huh baby? Let daddy take care of you.” You bit your lip as he plunged two fingers into your cunt. The length, combined with the hooking motion had you gasping. He continued to plunge in and out of your sopping heat as you rocked against him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close on his arm. He maneuvered the two of you so you were laying on your back across the seat, his hand gripping your soft thighs, holding you in place as he finger-fucked you.
“Take it like a good girl baby. Let daddy make you feel good. You look so beautiful for me baby.” He praised you as he pushed deeper into you. You could feel him hit spots in you that made you see stars. All you could do was lay back and cry from the overwhelming pleasure that clouded your brain.
“Fuck...daddy, gonna cum soon!” you wailed, eyes rolling back. Hanta then chose this moment to pull his fingers from you, leaving your pussy to clench around nothing. You let out a frustrated whimper, tears leaking from your eyes.
“I’m so sorry baby, but I promise I’m gonna make it all better. You trust me baby?” He asked, his eyes dark with desire and something primal.
You nodded, sniffling at the shock of your orgasm being ripped from you. He tapped your lips with his fingers,still dripping of your arousal. Obediently, you opened and sucked on the two fingers, tasting yourself.
“Look how good you taste baby. You’re such a good girl for me. I want you to lick up every last drop from my fingers. Can you do that for daddy?” He asked, grinning.
Nodding dumbly, you slurped down every bit of yourself from his hand. He pressed against your tongue, making you gag around him. You looked up at him, drool falling from the corners of your mouth.
Hanta felt his cock twitch. Fuck you looked so sexy, so fucked and in love. He could see the devotion in your eyes as you looked at him awaiting his next instructions.
He pulled his hand back, strings of saliva hanging off of his calloused fingers. He propped himself above you so he was looking right down at your gorgeously fucked out face.
“You ready baby? You ready to take all of Daddy’s cock?” He asked, tugging your shorts down and lining himself up with your entrance. Your fingers found their way to his neck, tugging him close to you. The two of you shared a deep kiss, exchanging unspoken promises and memories before breaking apart. You nodded, looking deep into his eyes.
“Always."
Hanta felt his face flush, before slowly pressing into your tight heat. You bit your lip. No matter how many times the two of you had done this, you still had to prepare for his length. He wasn’t the thickest but his cock was long and lean just like him, with a curve that pressed itself right against your most sensitive spots.
“Fuck...you feel so good for me. You’re squeezing me so well baby.” He murmured, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body. His hands ran up and down your sides as he looked down at you and he gave you a small grin as he pinched your hip. You dug your fingertips into his shoulder blades, pulling him flush against you.
“Oh fuck you feel so good.” You rocked your hips against him, rolling yourself onto his cock. He took this as a cue to go faster and started to piston deeper inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass. His tip slammed against your walls, burying him deeper inside you. Moans and sighs filled the backseat and you gripped him tightly.
“That’s it babe, that’s it. Taking daddy so fucking deep. Fuck you’re sucking me in so well. I might have to knock you up again if you keep it up. You want that princess? Want daddy to put another baby inside you?” Hanta panted, hungrily kissing your neck and shoulder as he fucked into you faster. His teeth nipped at the thin skin and you cried out, from a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Answer me baby girl.”
“Y-yes daddy! Please fill me up with your cum. Need you so bad. Wan’a have your baby.” You moaned, delirious from him. The windows to the car were foggy and sweat ran down your bodies as you repeatedly crashed into each other, and yet all you could feel was him, all you wanted was to stay with him and please him as much as you could.
He could feel his release rapidly approaching. His hand snaked down to your clit and he pressed tight circles to the sensitive bud. Your back arched from the seat as you moaned out a mixture of curses and begs. Your mindless babbling spurred him on more. He wanted to keep fucking you, make it so you couldn’t remember your own name, drive you insane with desire and want.
“Tell me who’s fucking you so good baby. Who’s making you feel so fucking good? Who’s cum do you want to fill that tight little pussy of yours?” He breathed out, slamming into you impossibly faster.
“Daddy daddy daddy - DADDY!” you chanted, your mind fuzzy as you tightened around him, creaming on his cock. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rode out your high on his cock as your eyes fluttered and your mouth dropped open.
“That’s it, that’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned out as he released into you, filling you with his seed. His cock twitched, spurting his load into you and his fingers gripped your hips, holding you tightly as he filled you up.
The two of you panted, breathing hard as you came down from your highs, slowly moving into a position where he could hold you. He moved some strands of hair, plastered to your face with sweat, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
“I love you.”
You grinned, sleepiness overtaking your body as you leaned into him, your lips pressing against his skin.
“Forever.”
#sero x reader#hanta sero smut#hanta sero x reader#sero smut#bnha smut#mha smut#my hero academia smut#boku no hero academia smut#hanta sero#sero hanta#domestic sero
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Lucidity (9)
☼ Pairing: BTS x reader (this chap is Namjoon x reader)
☼ Genre: vampire!BTS, succubus!reader, smut, fluff, angst
☼ Count: 6.3K
☼ Warnings: 18+, teasing, biting, minorish blood play (it’s a vampire fic so like, there’s some feeding), some dom/sub themes, unprotected, light choking, creampie, referenced kidnapping, captivity, implied attacks, minor character death (nothing in detail)
☼ Summary: You’ve spent years jumping from country to country, starting countless new lives. Crafting new lives is as easy as breathing for you, lies flowing easily and people are charmed with a simple bat of your eyes. When you meet a witch who offers the idea of opening a supernatural club, using your powers combined with hers to ensure safety to those who enter, you decide to join her in an adventure that is entirely new to you. But your new life in Seoul is drastically changed when you’re forced to face something you’ve spent centuries hiding from. But just because you might be running for your life again doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun along the way, right?
☼ a/n: Surprise~~ The truth is finally here! Hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait! While the truth is out, there’s still a long way for everyone to go! And be sure to heed the warnings! This chapter is pretty heavy. My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
You groan, stretching out on the silky bedding. The room is warm, summer light casting rays across the room where someone left the window cracked to keep you cool. You pause and listen for a moment, but there’s no sound of movement around the house signifying anyone else is home. Namjoon and Jaeho must have gone to the village for a while.
You kick your leg out from beneath the sheet that covers you, hoping to cool yourself just slightly from the heat that settles over you. You sort of wish one of them was home right now, just for some company. You all had been working so much lately that you hadn’t seen much of them other than occasional meals. You can’t even remember the last time the three of you fell into bed together at night and woke up together. You’ve all been so busy lately.
Sighing, you stretch out again and breath in deep to catch their scents. At least you have a small piece of them. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to repay Jaeho for all that he’s done for you. You’ll spend the rest of your life repaying him for the chance he took on you. You had been forcibly turned and abandoned with no knowledge of what you suddenly were. Your memories of the specific encounter have always been hazy. You just remember coming to and having the sudden, insatiable craving for sex.
Jaeho took you in months after you were turned, when you were aimlessly roaming and feeding. There had been no rhyme or reason to what you did, you simply functioned off instinct, moving around through a confused, lustful haze. You don’t even know if you had killed anyone. At the time, you simply didn’t care. The changes had muddled your mind so much that you lost yourself for a while. Jaeho had found you in an alley about to drain someone completely.
He taught you control, and in all honestly probably kept you from getting yourself killed too. You weren’t exactly subtle in your feeding, you at least knew that much. Sometimes, when you traveled with him later, you’d hear rumors from years ago. Of a woman or attacks or strange instances that sound eerily like you and your actions. It really would’ve only been a matter of time before someone caught wind, connected them, and hunted you down. He had done the same for Namjoon, you found out later. He’d been turned, either on accident or maliciously, and abandoned. Namjoon had held out for weeks, hunger slowly growing as he struggled against his new instincts to hurt those around him. Jaeho found him on the edge of going feral and helped him.
When they’d found you, they brought you back to the modest place the two had been staying at and you all had talked. He explained what they were, how he’d been around for a few centuries, the few years Namjoon had now been with him. He extended the same offer to you, to stay and learn control with others who knew the struggle of a never ending thirst. He knew some about your kind, enough to teach you about yourself and how to handle your new powers. It had been the first time you’d heard what you were, succubus.
You would’ve assumed that once your powers were well and truly under control that the three of you would go your separate ways. Or at least that Jaeho would send you on your way, confident that you wouldn’t leave a trail of bodies behind you anymore. That maybe Jaeho only saw you as someone to help out before letting you go to feel better about himself. But a couple decades later and you’re still all together, closer than ever. The relationship developed slowly over the years. All three of you danced a little awkwardly around each other. Products of a time where monogamy was most well known and the concept of three people together and happy seemed so foreign to you all.
One balmy night in Paris, when you’d come back from work, you found the two of them sprawled in just their underwear. All the windows were thrown open and a gentle breeze ruffled the curtains, casting shifting patterns of moonlight across their skin. And it struck you like a bolt of lightning in that moment, heart warmed by the sight that welcomed home. The sight that you were always so excited to come home to. A sight that you realized that you wanted to come home to forever.
“I love you.”
You had blurted it out. You don’t know if you had startled yourself more with the sudden admission or them. They both stared at you with wide eyes before exchanging a quick glance. Jaeho had tentatively, and nervously, something you had never seen from him before, asked who you were talking to. You would have thought it would’ve been hard to answer. Which one did you mean. But it was the easiest thing in the world to say as you looked from Jaeho to Namjoon and said ‘both.’
Their faces had remained nerve-wrackingly blank for long moments. Before Jaeho broke out into a wide relieved smile.
“Oh thank god. I thought I would have to be the one to bring it up first.”
Namjoon’s shock and confusion lasted a little longer. First directed at you then towards Jaeho’s admission. Even without Namjoon’s answer, you felt giddy and excited. Both of you turned expectantly towards Namjoon, who seemed to flounder under the sudden attention.
Jaeho was quick to intercede. “It’s okay if you need time or don’t feel the same, Joonie.”
Namjoon blinked a few times before quickly shaking his head. “No, I- I’m just surprised. I promise. This is… amazing.”
His soft confession was enough to finally propel you forward, tugging him up and into a feverish kiss. One that Jaeho interrupted to steal a searing kiss of his own before planting the same on Namjoon. After, the three of you had fallen into bed together and haven’t separated since, with exception of occasional trips. But those never last long for any of you. You always end up missing the others too much to stay away for long. And for all the fun there is in the world, there’s nothing better than being in their arms.
Maybe you should suggest a small vacation soon, you’re fairly certain there’s some anniversary coming up. And your small little plot of farmland will survive a few days without the three of you around. Long enough for a quick trip somewhere. You wish you could go back to Paris. But that would take too long to travel. It’d have to be somewhere a little closer.
The rustling of grass filters in through the window, signaling someone’s approach. You think about getting up to greet them, but decide that you’d rather try to get them to join you in bed. You’ve missed them too much to let the opportunity to get to be close with them for a little while go. The door is opened and closed and you can hear them shuffling around beyond the partition. The movements are too soft to pick out who it is, but after a moment, Namjoon’s warm scent spreads through the house.
“Joonie…” you croon.
There’s a pause and then a chuckle and the footsteps come closer. “Is there a particular reason you are still in bed and naked, love?”
You reach a hand out towards him. “In the hope that one of my beautiful men will decide to join me again. I miss you both.”
A smile tugs at his lips, cheeks dimpling. He tugs his hair free of it’s tie, silky strands falling to his shoulders as he gives them a quick ruffle. You know you’ve already won with that action, even if he’ll pretend to think about it. He’s not going to leave until you’re happy and satisfied. “Is that so?”
The ties of his belt are undone and he lets his top fall open. Your eyes trace over the newly revealed skin, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His skin is more tan than you last remember, leaving him practically glowing golden in the sunlight.
“Have you been working outside without a shirt lately?” you murmur.
He hums, shrugging the shirt from his shoulders and letting it pool on the ground at his feet. “There is a lot of work to do around here.”
“Are you saying I don’t do any work around here?”
He chuckles. “I think you do the most work, love.”
He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, tugging them down his legs and leaving him bare before you. You hungrily drink him in. Now that he’s able to stay out in the sunlight longer, his skin is finally starting to return to the golden of when you met, losing some of the paleness that came from his new sensitivity to sunlight. The years spent tending the fields around your little home has left him built, so much so that you're positive that even without the vampire strength that he’d be able to lift you easily. The idea makes you squirm.
Beckoning him once more, you slide the thin sheet from your body, shameless in your nudity before him. His gaze flickers across the expanse of your form before taking a step closer and stretching out beside you. Propping his head up on a hand, he uses his free hand to trace idle patterns along the soft skin of your stomach. His cool touch leaves goosebumps in their wake.
“Well, love, now that you have me back in bed, what are your grand plans?”
Shifting onto your side, you press yourself closer until you’re pressed against him, finger tips ghosting up his arm. “I’m certain we can think of something to occupy ourselves with, Joonie.”
He chuckles, the sound deep and warm enough that you want to do nothing more than bask in it forever. His hand cups your cheek gently and you lean into the touch a moment before turning your head just enough to press a kiss to his palm. “You’re insatiable,” he murmurs, trying to sound like he’s reprimanding but his tone oozes nothing but fondness.
Humming, you thread your fingers through his hair. “You don’t seem to particularly mind, though.”
“Brat,” he murmurs, before pressing his lips to yours.
You smirk into the kiss though it’s short lived as Namjoon’s hand slides off your cheek to grip the back of your neck possessively, guiding you into a deeper kiss. Moaning when he nips your lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth, you feel your pussy clench at the sting and let your hands drift from his chest down to his half hard cock where it presses to your thigh. You wrap your hand around the already hefty girth even when he’s only half hard and you get a grunt in response. Giving him a few slow pumps, you revel in the feeling of him firming up in your grip, the physical proof of the effect you have on him. Decades later and you still love the feel of them hardening with just a few strokes.
You could do that with anyone, but there’s something special about Namjoon and Jaeho. The bond you all share makes moments like these so much more than just sex or feeding. There’s a delight in the fact that time has left them just as in love with you as you still are with them. Love so deeply rooted that you don’t think it could ever be removed.
Namjoon’s lips reverently trail along your jaw. “You’re in your head. All that work to get me here and you’re just going to imagine something else?” His tone is lighthearted and teasing as he ends his question with a nip to your neck.
“There exists nothing I’d rather imagine than to be here with you. And oh,” you grin, looking pointedly to where you’re pressed together, “will you look at that. I’m right here with you.”
“I know someone who would perhaps have an objection to that.”
Leaning in, you steal a quick kiss. “It’s what he gets for leaving the bed.”
Namjoon chases your lips when you go to pull away. “Someone should do some real work around here.”
He continues pressing forward once your lips reconnect, forcing you onto your back and he shifts to pin you to the bed with his hips, hard cock pressing delightfully against you. Grinding your hips up into his, you let your legs wrap around his waist to keep him close. His cock slides through your wet folds, creating the perfect rub of friction to your clit that makes your toes curl.
“Joonie…” you whine as his lips trail down to your neck.
“I don’t know if you’ve earned anything yet, love,” he coos, fangs grazing across your skin, a shock of adrenaline racing through you at the teasing promise of being bitten.
They’ve fed from you countless times, but time does nothing to lessen the excitement that comes from the promise of the pleasure that will course through your veins as they feed from you. The first time either of them had fed from you, Jaeho had you sat on Namjoon’s cock. And you had cum almost the second Jaeho’s fangs pierced the skin of your neck. The euphoria that flooded your body had been almost overwhelming and when you had come back to yourself, Namjoon had been squirming beneath you, whining to Jaeho about how tightly your pussy can clamped around him while Jaeho had fed. Jaeho had merely laughed before lifting you easily and helping you ride Namjoon until he came as well. Not that it took long after the way your pussy had been convulsing around him. Now you’ve grown a little addicted to the feeling of being fed from by them, especially when all three of you are together.
Thrusting lazily against you, Namjoon pulls you back to the present, giving you only just enough pressure to your clit to leave you aching for more, squirming as much as you can with your hips pinned down by his. His teeth nip at your skin, the sting sending a jolt through your body, dragging a whine from your throat.
“Please…”
Namjoon makes a thoughtful noise, though he seems far more preoccupied with your neck to truly be thinking about your pleas. You wonder when he last fed. It’s been a while since he’s fed from you, so you know that he must have gone out to feed from a human. But with the way all your schedules have been lately, you don’t know exactly when that was. The way he’s interested in your neck though says that it’s maybe been a while since he’s fed. Or, you think with a small thrill, maybe he has just missed feeding from you.
You know you could easily overpower him. While in normal circumstances his strength far outweighs yours, this is your domain. And the lust slowly clouding the room means that it would be nothing to flip you both and simply take what you want. Something that he most certainly knows after being with you for so long.
But there’s something to the surrender, the implicit trust you put in him. In each other. Namjoon lifts his head and his eyes shine with happiness. Ducking down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. Then he presses a second kiss, far more urgent and needy. It consumes you as he grinds against you, thick cock rubbing perfectly against your aching clit.
You whine against his lips, drawing a deep chuckle from him. “Tell me what you want, love,” he murmurs.
You nip at his bottom lip with a small grin. “Just you.”
Fingers digging into your hips, he adjusts you slightly so his cock just presses against your entrance. “Who would’ve thought that the sex demon would be so soft, hm?”
Before you can retort, he pulls you in, cock sinking deliciously into you. You moan as he presses in fully to the hilt, letting you sit there full of him until you start squirming, wanting him to move.
He chuckles again. “So needy, love.”
His hips draw away, until just the tip remains before he thrusts back in. The force jostles you up the bed, pulling a gasp from you and he sets a slow, almost lazy rhythm. You sink into the feeling, reveling in the drag of his cock against your walls. There’s a level of care and calculation to his movements and anticipation builds in you as you wait for his next move, pleasure slowly building in your belly. His fangs drag teasingly against the thin skin of your pulse point and your pulse races at the promise of a bite.
Teeth digging in gently, nowhere near hard enough to pierce your skin, you whine, trying to push up into the easy pressure against your throat. Namjoon’s hand finds your throat, fingers fitting right under your jaw and forcing your head back and fully exposing your throat to him. The hint of danger sends a thrill through your body and your pussy clenches around his cock.
His tongue traces the path of your racing pulse until his lips bump his fingers. “So, so needy. And yet, you won’t just ask for what you want.” He tuts, plush lips pressing to your jaw above his fingers. “Tell me what you want or you won’t get it.”
You huff and his hand tightens marginally around your throat, cutting your theatrics off immediately. “Want you to feed. Haven’t had it in so long…”
His smile presses to your neck. “Only you would miss having a vampire drink from you, love.”
A breathy laugh leaves you. “Cause I know how good it feels. It’s so good.”
He hums, tongue laving over your pulse for a moment before his fangs are sinking into your flesh. There’s a split second of pain, twin points of burning that is washed away by euphoria as the venom sinks into your veins. Your limbs tingle and every place that his hands touch feels electric. Drinking deeply, his hips stutter to a stop, leaving you impaled on his cock as he feeds.
In your distracted state, you don’t notice his fingers moving until they find your clit, circling the bundle with practiced ease. Pleasure burns through you, bright and hot as his fingers move and your hips move in an attempt to get more sensation, to get him to fuck you hard and fast and add even more pleasure for the greedy, hungry pit of lust growing within you.
He pulls away slightly, dark eyes staring at the bite before he’s diving back down to lick up the blood that oozes from the wounds. His hips twitch and you know that’s he’s just barely holding onto his restraint. You sink your fingers into his soft hair, tugging the long strands and pulling a growl from deep in his chest.
“Fuck me. Joonie, please…”
Everything freezes for a moment and then Namjoon jerks into motion, thrusts picking up pace rapidly, almost frenzied as his lips find yours for a messy, uncoordinated kiss. He fucks you hard and fast, desperate in a way you both need. You’ve missed them both so much.
Pleasure builds quickly in your belly and you let it crest with a sigh. Shuddering, your pussy clenches around his cock as you cum, venom heighting all sensation to the point that you feel high. Namjoon’s hips stutter slightly from the sudden clench. A handful of thrusts later, just as you start to tip into oversensitivity, he cums with a groan, leaving you sated and full.
His forehead rests against your shoulder for a moment before he pulls out and flops down beside you, pulling you close to cuddle.
“Love you…” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin.
Letting your fingers comb through his hair, you hum with happiness. There’s nowhere you’d rather be. “Love you too.”
Namjoon can hear the pacing before he even enters the house. Opening the door reveals the same thing he’s come home to for the past three days, Jaeho pacing around the small common space, completely lost in thought. He wonders if Jaeho even attended to his chores today, or if he’s been here since this morning when Namjoon left. He had at least managed to get Jaeho to sleep a little, if a little fitfully. Being wrapped up in Namjoon’s arms had seemed to help at least a little bit.
“Jae,” he calls softly.
There’s no response initially, Jaeho looking up a handful of seconds after Namjoon has said his name, like there’s a delay in processing what’s happening around him. Worry creases his face and Namjoon steps forward to wrap his arms around the other.
“She’ll be back. You know she always comes back,” he murmurs soothingly. He’s said it more times than he can count in the last three days. Namjoon doesn’t want to think about how he’s saying it as much to reassure Jaeho as he is to reassure himself.
The conversation the two of you had before he returned to work two weeks ago plays on a never ending loop. Wondering if there’s some hidden meaning or clue that he missed. He’d asked what your plans were for the rest of the day and you detailed that you were hungry and that there had been a werewolf that had been coming into the tea house and seemed interested. So you were going to flirt a little and see where it led.
Namjoon had never imagined that he would be here. Laying in bed, idly tracing patterns on his partners skin as she detailed her plans to go sleep with someone else. He would expect jealousy, or maybe even anger. And the jealousy had certainly been there in the beginning. But Jaeho and you had never ending patience with him. Helped him talk through his emotions and get to where he is now. Because he knows there’s nothing to be jealous of. That while you flit off every so often to sleep with some people and feed, that at the end of the day, you’ll always end up back here with them. Because it’s them that you love and they’re home.
There’s nothing in Namjoon’s recollection of the conversation that reveals any hidden meaning or agenda. You had talked as if you’d be back within a day at most, like you were just heading out for a quick bite to eat and then you’d be back.
Namjoon tries to bury the worry that bubbles up that maybe he missed something or that something’s happened. Jaeho is worrying more than enough for both of them right now and at least one of them needs to remain strong and level-headed.
Chewing his lip for a moment, Jaeho thinks his words over carefully. “I know that. But she never disappears without telling us for more than a couple of days. It’s already been almost two weeks. She would’ve told us if she was going for a while.”
Humming, Namjoon gives him another squeeze. That was another thing he was trying to not think about. Had you told him that you’d be away for a while and he just didn’t remember and now Jaeho was worrying for nothing? But if he told Jaeho that you had said that when you didn’t and you really were in trouble? Namjoon doesn’t know if he’d be able to live with that. “You know how werewolves are. She probably just got caught up and forgot. She hasn’t been with one in a while. They’re a lot and she can feed from them a lot. Probably just drinking her fill.”
Jaeho sighs, sagging slightly in Namjoon’s arms. The words seem to sooth him, at least for the moment and that’s the best that Namjoon can ask for right now. “I guess… I just don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Namjoon presses a kiss to his head. “Don’t worry. She loves us both. She’ll be back before we know it.” Pulling away, Namjoon gives him a reassuring smile, gently tugging him back towards the bed. “In the meantime, I know just how to help you relax.”
You don’t know how long you’ve been here. Time has blurred into a long stretch of aching hunger, made more acute with every attempt you make to escape. None have been successful. You don’t even really know where you are. The last thing you fully remember is spending time with the werewolf you met at the tea house. You’d spent a couple of days with him, days full of fun and left you full and sated. You had been planning to go back to Jaeho and Namjoon the next morning. But someone clearly had other plans.
Waking up in a dark, cold gray cellar had certainly been a surprise after falling asleep in bed warmed by a werewolf. As had the ache in your head and blood matted in your hair, though the blood certainly explained the headache. More surprising than just being in the cellar was finally taking notice of the bars separating you from a large portion of the cellar and confining you to one little corner. There’s nothing in the little cell with you. With no windows, there’s no way to tell how long you’ve been down here either or even what time it currently is. The cellar is sparsely filled too, a few boxes scattered around, but it seems abandoned. You’d tried yelling yourself hoarse the first few days after awakening, but either no one was around or the stone the cellar was built from kept your shouts from reaching anyone.
Which has led to your current predicament. You know at least a few weeks have passed. The slowly growing hunger is proof enough of that. The growing hunger has also meant that you’ve slowly begun to lose yourself. You’ve been having moments where you’ve blacked out, where you know you’ve been conscious but you don’t recall a thing that happened. One time you came to, to find your hands slick with blood and the sting of cuts on your fingertips. After taking a moment to get your bearings again, you found blood on the bars where you assume you had tried to break your way out even if you don’t remember those actions.
The length of time they last seems to be growing longer and you don’t know whether it comforts you to know that it will be over soon or feel guilt wrenching heartache that your last moments are here, alone and that Namjoon and Jaeho will never know what happened.
As your periods of lucidity begin to lessen and you find yourself spending those brief moments as yourself thinking of Jaeho and Namjoon. You miss them so much. Want their comforting scents here with you, to fall asleep in their arms on soft bedding instead of being alone on a cold, stone floor.
You wonder if they’re worried or looking for you. They knew you’d gone to meet someone, assuming Namjoon told Jaeho about your plans. Would they think something happened to you? Or would they just assume you had left for a while, even if you hadn’t told them that you planned to leave for a while. It’s something that you haven’t done since the beginning of your relationship. Back when you all were still figuring out how the three of you worked and you were a little more easily spooked by what you felt. And even back then, you never disappeared for long, always drawn back to them no matter what.
It’s during one of these periods of consciousness that something changes. A door opens and you see a sliver of light, that given however long you’ve been in the dark, is nearly blinding for a moment, forcing your eyes to squeeze closed. Then someone descends the stairs, a lantern in one hand, casting a warm glow about the cellar that is still almost too bright considering the dark you've sat in until now. The scent hits you a moment after her appearance. Werewolf.
Your stomach clenches painfully, hunger gnawing at you with the tease of possible food before you. You find yourself getting to your feet and approaching the bars without much thought, so fast that you stumble but you’re too focused to pay it any mind. In fact, you’re so focused that the bars startle you slightly when you bump into them.
The woman laughs cruelly when she sees that. “Forgot the bars again, whore?”
Again? Has she been down here before? Your mind reels, scraping together every brief memory from recently to see if you can recount someone coming down here. Your mind comes to only darkness. You suppose that it is possible that she came down before given the moments you’ve been losing. But that just becomes even more disconcerting because she’s been coming down here while you starve? While you’ve been struggling to get free? Fingers curling around the bars, you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, throat rough from disuse.
Clearing your throat, you try again. “Who…”
The woman scoffs and you have no idea if it’s because you’ve had this conversation before or if she just seemingly dislikes you that you addressing her directly is disgusting to her. “Are we really doing this whole thing again? How you seduce anyone when you’re this stupid, is beyond me.” The lantern is set on the ground as the woman takes a seat on a small stool set before the bars. “My name is Talia. I don’t think I need to tell you that I’m a werewolf.”
“Why…”
She laughs again. “Because you slept with my mate.”
Mate? You’ve only slept with one werewolf recently. And he was certainly unmated. No marks and no mating scent. Mated werewolves carried a certain scent, a slight undertone of their mates scent that is with them always. Is that who she means? You’d discussed other current partners while you were together and he hadn’t mentioned a mate. He mentioned a guy, a werewolf from another pack that he was interested in. Was debating whether he should court him or not. You had given him some advice and he seemed genuinely happy to receive it, glowing when you asked about the other werewolf and he began to gush about how they met.
“What are you talking about?” you croak. Everything is confusing and that combined with your hunger is making your head throb, making it even harder to focus on the harsh words she spits at you.
Tutting, she shakes her head, like she’s chiding a child. “You spent all that time with him and you’ve forgotten him?”
“I… I don’t understand… I’ve only slept with one werewolf. And he wasn’t mated.”
“You know nothing of mates.” There’s a wildness in her eyes that has you shrinking away from the bars. With it comes the dawning realization that she is the reason you’re locked up down here.
Tears gather in your eyes, frustration, anger, and grief almost so overwhelming that it feels like you’re choking. “Why are you doing this? Please, let me go.”
“That’s most certainly not going to happen. Not yet anyway. I have plans for you. You ruin my life, I ruin yours,” she cackles.
And then she’s picking up the lantern and leaving as you shout behind her. For her to stop, to let you go, for anyone to help you. The silence sets in as the cellar door is slammed shut behind, disturbed only by your broken sobs.
“I’m going to find her.”
Namjoon looks up from the paper he’s going over, brow furrowed at Jaeho. “What?”
“It’s been a month, Joonie. I’m worried. I’m going to find her.” He adjusts a bag slung over his shoulder, face determined.
Namjoon starts to stand. “I’ll come with.”
Jaeho shakes his head. “No, someone should stay here. In case she comes back. Someone should be here for her. I’ll check in with you every couple of days.”
Namjoon nods reluctantly, moving closer to him. “Be safe,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.
Three days later, Namjoon catches wind of a werewolf pack that’s going to take care of a feral vampire that’s attacking a nearby village. There’s only one other vampire in the area. Namjoon’s stomach sinks and he goes to the village without a second thought.
You blink, consciousness coming back to you slowly. You notice several things that don’t immediately fully process with you. First, you’re outside. It’s night, but the buildings around you are ablaze, casting everything in bright light. Second, you are, bizarrely, no longer starving, instead a hollow fullness settles in your bones. Almost more off putting than the hunger. Third, and this one takes the longest to register because it seems so unreal, Talia stands before you. And with a growing sense of dread as you fully take in the scene, holds a struggling Jaeho by the throat.
You take a step closer and can see her grip tighten so you stop, going so far as to take a step back in the hopes that she loosens her grip on him. Jaeho thrashes and when you call out his name, all you get in response is a hiss. Is he… feral?
Flashes of memories hit you, things that make your stomach turn. It all seems like a nightmare. You have a vague awareness of completely losing yourself, Jaeho finding you. Or was he led to you? Of you… feeding from him as he fought to subdue you. When you look at your arms, you see scratches and bruises that confirm your memories to be true, that you attacked him. That you did this to him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you force the memories away before focusing on Talia again.
“Let him go.” Your voice breaks.
She gives you a cruel, condescending smile. “I don’t think so. There’s a feral vampire causing havoc, as the resident pack, we have to take care of it.”
Tears spill down your cheek as you shake your head. You have to fix this. It isn’t his fault. He just needs to feed a little and he’ll be fine. If she just gives him to you, then you can fix this. You both can go back to Namjoon and everything will be okay. “No no no. Please. Don’t do this. Give him to me. I can make him better. Please, this is just an accident.”
Humming thoughtfully for a moment, she makes eye contact with a grin. “No.”
Then she rips Jaeho’s throat out. You scream, dropping to your knees as he gurgles for a moment before slowly sinking to the ground. All you can focus on is the blood slowly seeping into the ground. You feel cold even with the heat of the blaze surrounding you. Talia drops the mess in her hand and glances behind her.
Burying your face in your hands, you sob, feeling the loss of Jaeho tear through your chest as viscerally as a dagger. You ache. How are you going to tell Namjoon? There’s no way to explain this. Jaeho should’ve let you go after he taught you control. Maybe he shouldn’t even have bothered to stop you that night he found you. He should’ve just left you to hunters.
This is all your fault.
You hear voices murmuring, one calm and collected and the other frantic, and when you finally manage to drag your gaze up what feels like an eternity later, you see Namjoon standing over Jaeho’s body, face twisted with anguish. Talia’s nowhere to be seen. He drops to his knees, hands hovering like if he doesn’t touch then it’s not real. Staggering to your feet, you cross the short distance, stopping just short of them when Namjoon’s head jerks up to meet you with a hard look. It’s enough to break your heart all over again.
“How could you do this?”
His words are ice and you have no idea how to respond. You have no answer. How could you, you haven’t even been conscious. Your lust clouded your judgement and now you’ve hurt the people you loved the most. “J-joonie-”
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore. How could you do this? After everything he’s done for you?” His voice raises in pitch as tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “He did everything for you. For us. How could you?”
The silence after his shouting is deafening. It would almost be easier if he kept yelling. At least then you wouldn’t have to hear the way your thoughts swirl with ‘it’s your fault he’s dead.’
What are you supposed to say to him anyway? There’s no apology in the world that could ever bring Jaeho back. Namjoon’s right. Jaeho did everything for you. And now he’s dead.
“I’m sorry…” The words feel like ash on your tongue. Wholly inadequate but you have to say something. You and Namjoon can still continue on. You can bring Jaeho’s memory with you. You don’t all have to lose everything.
Namjoon laughs bitterly. “You’re sorry?” He sounds incredulous and shakes his head. “Just leave. I can’t…” His breath stutters and his gaze drops to the ground. “Please just go. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
You want to argue. Bring up the idea that you don’t have to lose each other too. That Jaeho wouldn’t want you to separate just because he’s gone. But you have a feeling that he won’t be receptive to that. And as much as it pains you to leave them both. You don’t want to cause Namjoon more hurt than you already have. The kindest thing you can do now is simply honor his request.
So you leave. Vowing to yourself that you’ll never let someone close again. You don’t think your heart could handle more loss. You bring nothing but pain to others.
#bangtanarmynet#hyunglinenetwork#kwritersworldnet#thekimlinenet#ksmutclub#bts x reader#bts vampire au#bts angst#bts smut#vampire bts#bts au#bts fanfic#namjoon x reader#namjoon smut#namjoon angst#namjoon fanfic#lucidity au
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Ummm... can I just say how much I love your levi works?? ❤❤❤ i was wondering if you could make another yandere levi victorian arranged marriage? Like it dosent have to be victorian. But can you make it so that its a continuation of your first part ??? thanksss
Part 2 of this
Character: Levi Ackerman, Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan
Warnings: Dubcon, Noncon, Yandere, rough smut.
A/N: I now know a lot about the Victorian era. What people wore in the daytime, in the evening, to bed… and their underwear. Specifically, how to take off the underwear… if you get what I mean ;)
On another note, woo! I finally completed this work! I’ve been working on it for over a week nonstop... hehe. I hope you all enjoy it! (This is the last part to this, I won’t be writing any more for it.)
Due to its length... and content, it’ll be placed under a cut.
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His house didn’t feel like a house. Or a home. More like a castle. The gardens were large and meticulously well kept, with fantastical flowers and hedges that you only heard about in fairy tales. The gates to the estate were tall, with sharp-pointed tops and scary wires. It would ensure no unwanted guests could get in… and that no one that wished to leave without permission could get out.
The house itself was five times larger than your old home, and you could count at least twenty windows on the front side of the house.
Your long skirt dragged along the concrete paths, heels clicking in tandem with your new husband’s dress shoes. His arm was entwined with your own, having pulled you close to him, shoulders rubbing together with each step.
You clutched at your skirt as you ascended the stairs to the front door of your new prison. Servants opened the doors wide for the two of you, and you were hit with the fresh scents of lemongrass and ginger.
The entryway was sparsely decorated, a deep red rug centred on the floor with golden tassels fluffing the edges. A wooden table with gorgeous floral vases that you knew costed more than the dress and shoes you wore combined, with fresh red roses that were mid-bloom. The walls painted a simple beige colour and the roof was an odd pattern of mahogany wood with various animals carved into them. Old paintings lined the walls, you didn’t recognise any of the figures, but you recognised the cold eyes identical to Levi’s. His mother.
Levi wasted no time pulling you through the entryway and through identical hallways, up squeaky mahogany staircases and into what seemed like his private bedroom. He pulled free from your arm, addressing a maid and ordering her to have you cleaned up and redressed with a grumble of “and burn that thing when you’re finished” …you couldn’t help but be offended, it was the fanciest dress you owned.
A kind-looking woman pulled you into an en-suite bathroom that connected to his bedroom. It was large, with a marble counter and basin, and a large bathtub with a shelf full of essential oils and fragrances. The bathwater was poured in, heated to a high temperature. You watched the steam coming off the water, it would be a while before the water was comfortable. The maid left you to undress, and you took your time. Slowly untying the shawl around your shoulders, you unceremoniously dropped it to the floor. Your shoes and stockings were next. Then the dress itself. There was a full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
You stood in front of the mirror, eyes skimming over your body. You weren’t skinny, but you weren’t overweight. Your parents worked hard to put food on the table for you, but you bet Levi barely had to lift a finger. You eyed your protruding hip bones, gaunt collarbones. You weren’t skinny… but you could stand to gain a few kilos.
The water stung your sensitive skin as you sunk into the bath, letting the water rise until only your head sat above the water. The cuts on your knees burned. Taking a deep breath, you submerged yourself, holding your breath as you wet your hair.
In only a few hours, you would lose your virginity. Your new husband would expect sex from you, and you would have no reason to deny him. Maybe you could tell him you weren’t feeling up to it… but Levi wasn’t stupid, he would see through your lies easily. You couldn’t help but wonder… would it be good…? Would you enjoy yourself?
Your heart pounded against your ribcage, nervous energy spreading throughout your shaking extremities.
Reaching for the soap, you made quick work of lathering it over your body, making sure to leave no spot untouched. He seemed to have special soap for your hair, it smelled of lavender.
Before you left the bath, you let yourself soak just a little longer. Until the water had cooled and your skin was pruney.
Fresh clothes had been left on the bed for you, you looked over them while you finished towel-drying your hair. It was evening, so you had been left an evening gown. It was much fancier than anything you had ever owned before. You almost felt wrong for wearing it. But you couldn’t deny its comfort, minus the corset that required help from several maids to tighten.
The dress was gorgeous. It was on off the shoulder neckline with long cream-coloured frilled lace. It was a peach colour, with large bows holding up more lace along the bottom of the gown. The number of petticoats and underskirts had your body hot, with a natural red flush to your cheeks and shoulders. The maids fawned over you, braiding your hair and applying cherry juice to your lips.
It was the prettiest you had ever looked, but the sour taste in your mouth wouldn’t leave. The maids, although just following orders, were dressing you up to have sex with their boss. It wasn’t so sweet when you put it in those words, but it was the truth of the situation.
You wondered if he wanted to bed you to show dominance over you. Maybe it was to show others that you belonged to him, he was the possessive type and he had arranged your marriage out of that sick idea. Maybe he wanted to impregnate you, really show the other nobles that you were his. Have you running around taking care of your children and speaking only when spoken to, like some little trophy wife.
Maybe he truly desired you.
You wanted more out of life. But he had stolen that chance from you. He had you right where he wanted you, stuck, locked away in his home and you couldn’t do anything about it. It was sickening.
Soon enough, the maids decided they were finished. And you were ushered down the stairs, where your husband was waiting for you at the dining table, a large feast laid out in front of him. Normally, the wife would sit on the opposite side of the husband, but he pulled you towards him, and you were sat in his lap.
Your face burned; an embarrassing show put on for the servants. But they made no comments on it. Smart of them, should they wish to keep their heads. You struggled in his lap, using the armrests to help push yourself out of his lap. His arms snaked around your waist, and with an iron grip, he pulled you back into his lap. No matter how much you squirmed, you couldn’t leave. You huffed a breath of annoyance, settling into his lap more comfortably.
You stiffened, feeling something hard beneath you. You wriggled, and Levi grunted hot air into the nape of your neck. Gooseflesh rose in its place.
“Careful, little lamb. Keep writhing on my lap like that and I won’t be able to control myself…” He murmured this low in your ear, a low growl on his tongue. Your body was hot, the pang of arousal that licked up your thighs was not helping.
Quickly you looked around, you were alone, so no one had heard him. You couldn’t help but feel relieved, if someone had heard that you wouldn’t be able to face them again… “You smell divine. I take it you enjoyed your bath?” He cut into the food, bringing a bite-sized amount up past you and to his lips.
You nodded in reply, “I did. Thank you.”
Although you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smirking.
He brought another square of food up on the fork, this time aiming for your mouth. He was going to feed you. Your lips parted, accepting the food. You chewed slowly, savouring the taste. It was delicious… you hadn’t ever tasted something with so much flavour. You couldn’t help but salivate. You usually ate things like mutton, bread and tea. This was something completely out of your league.
Dinner continued that way, alternating bites until you were both full.
Dread. It was Night. The sun nowhere to be seen. Levi had already returned to your shared bedroom. You sat in a room in front of the fireplace. It was warm, and from your position, you could see the moon from the window. You cherished this moment, the comfort and allowed yourself to forget what awaited you in his bedroom.
It was your bedroom too, now.
A maid came to collect you, and you were broken from your stupor.
When you arrived at the door to your room, it was closed. You could see the glow of candlelight from underneath the door. You rapped the door, waiting for an answer before stepping through.
Levi was in his nightclothes. He was on the bed, sitting up against the headboard with a book in his hands. Laying on top of the covers. The candlelight flickered as you shut the door behind you. He didn’t lift his eyes from his book, flicking over the page with a hum. You made quick work of changing into your own nightgown, grunting as you loosened the corset with only a little struggle.
You could feel his eyes gliding over your exposed shoulder blades and flitting down with the slide of your dress as it fell to the floor. Turning around, catching him in the act. But he didn’t look away when you turned. He continued staring unashamedly. Daring you to say something, as though a man couldn’t admire his wife.
When you crawled into bed beside him, you were almost convinced he had forgotten about his heated promise to you. Almost. He lifted an arm, inviting you into his space. Ignoring it made no difference because he pulled you into his side. Your head resting on his chest, one arm holding his book and the other stroking through your hair, curling it behind your ear. It was comfortable, domestic.
Levi smelled good. Was it some soap or essential oils? Perhaps a special cologne? What was the scent specifically? You couldn’t tell, but it had you breathing deeply, hoping to intake more and more of that pleasant smell.
He had reached the end of his page but instead of turning it as he had the past several pages, he closed the book. It was placed in its spot in his bedside draw. His hand rested on his stomach. Your palms were sweating, fingers twitching wildly. All through this, his other hand didn’t stop stroking your hair.
Until it moved, sliding under your jaw and tilting your face upwards toward his own. His hand stayed there, cradling your face. He took a moment to meet your eyes. His pupils blown wide, eyelids heavy and lips parted.
His lips met yours.
You gasped and Levi used this to slide his tongue past your lips. His tongue rolled over your teeth and tongue, exploring your mouth. It was warm and wet and practised. He nipped at your lips, licking over them in silent apology at your sharp intake of breath. How was he so good at this? He grunts, but you’re lost in the kiss. Your eyes were closed, hands reaching for his shirt to pull him closer, hot skin touching his, mewling and leaning into him.
That scent was back again, but he tastes like whisky and mint and maybe you should have pulled away, maybe it should’ve been gross, but it just wasn’t. His lips were firm but gentle, his tongue teasing and slow. His teeth dug into your lip, but his tongue was always quick to soothe the mark.
Levi pulled back with a groan, a lewd string of saliva connected you. He leaned in, sucking it up lewdly. “You taste better than I imagined.”
Sliding around the back of your head and into your hair, his hand pulled hard and smashed your lips together once more. Heat floods your thighs, you rub your legs together to create some kind of friction.
“Oh… Sir-Levi…” you breathe out between pants and sighs.
He’s on top of you, pushing you down and his legs between your thighs. Calloused hands roam your body leaving trails of heat behind them. Then he’s pulling open the buttons of your nightgown and pressing kisses down your neck. He lingers on a particular spot on your neck, harder kisses until he’s licking hot, wet stripes along your throat. He blows cool air over it, chuckling as your nipples harden amongst the goosebumps on your chest. His groin is grinding over your hips, fingers digging into the fat of your hips and squeezing so harshly you know it’s going to leave marks.
Teeth scrape over your collarbones and it has you squeaking out a high-pitched moan. You’re writhing under his burning touch, teeth biting so hard into your lip you can taste blood.
He pulls open the rest of your nightgown, exposing your chest to the cool night air. His lips are enclosing the hardened bud before you have a chance to be embarrassed. He sucks it into his mouth, circling it with his tongue and tugging with his teeth and it sends arousal straight to your core. His other hand is groping your other breast and you can feel the desperation in his touch. Your fingers rake through his raven locks, scraping against his scalp and pulling it, not knowing if it’s because it’s too much or because you have an inclination that he would like it.
A wet ‘pop’ is heard as he pulls off your nipple and moves to the other one to give it the same attention. Before he does, he kisses your sternum. His hungry eyes, wicked with desire, burn into your own. He takes pleasure seeing you so fucked out and he had barely started. “God, you’re beautiful…” He grins, he has you right where he wants you. A predator looming darkly over its prey. But this was the best part of the hunt. His reward.
“You belong to me now… you know that now, don’t you, y/n?” You nod, at his mercy.
He kisses the flesh of your bust, sucking the supple skin into his mouth and biting down. Hard. You cried out in pain, but he’s quick to move on, repeating the action and leaving deep purple marks all over your tits, moving back up to leave the same marks in more visible places. You shake your head, pushing at his shoulders. But he pushes back into you, you didn’t realise how strong he was.
“No- I… Marks. No…” You manage to speak amongst sighs. He snickers into your throat, the vibrations only making the sensations all the more pleasurable. He ignores your words, biting harder to show he heard you.
His hands ghost the length of your thighs, pushing the bottom of your nightgown up over your hips. Fingertips moved deftly, swiftly untying the strings keeping the front of your underwear together. He was quick to pull the last of the clothing hiding your body from his greedy eyes. You felt vulnerable, having your most intimate parts on display for the man. You squeezed your thighs together, or at least the best you could with him between them.
Strong arms held your thighs apart. He leaned down, hot breath blowing over your opening. Embarrassed, you covered your eyes with your hands.
“Eyes on me.” His voice was deep, demanding, controlling.
Slowly, you pulled your hands from your eyes, glancing up to witness his sinful expression. That devilish grin.
He was teasing as he leaned down, blowing hot streams of air over your pussy. Pulling the lips apart and staring back up at you from between your legs. Gaze dark. “My my, you are wet, aren’t you? So ready for me already?” His tongue dipped out to taste, licking a flat stripe up the length of your slit.
You gasped; eyes clenching closed before remembering to keep your eyes locked on his. Mirth in his stare. “I’ve been watching you, longing for you, keeping such a close eye on you… for months… never did I think you would look so delicious in my bed.”
Two fingers rubbed against your slit, grinding back and forth over your hole. Gentle “Ohhh…”’s and “Ahhh…”’s sighed from your mouth. Scooping up your slick and using it to press firm circles over your swollen clit.
That felt… good. Really good.
Levi paused, pulling his fingers away, scissoring them and holding them closer to the candlelight. “I guess… a taste wouldn’t hurt.” And his fingers were being sucked into his mouth. He licked around them, groaning. “Fuck… so sweet…” It should’ve been embarrassing but you had never been more aroused.
“I wish I could taste you more, but I can’t wait any longer.” He was tugging his own nightclothes off, untying the knot of his underwear and pulling his hard cock free. It twitched in his hand, heavy and girthy. He scooped more of your slick into his hand, stroking it over his cock. He threw his head back, a growl deep in his throat. “God… I finally have you, y/n… just fucking look at you… all mine.”
The heat of his cock was rubbing at your cunt, grinding it against your clit and fuck you wanted him. There’s a dark look in his eyes, and you suddenly remember that this man took you from your family and arranged a marriage with you to sate some sick obsession he had with you.
You kicked at his shoulder, sending him falling backwards and scrambling to get off the bed. But he pins you down, large hand wrapping around your throat and pushing you back into the sheets. His firm grip on your throat makes breathing difficult, you scratch at his hand but it’s no use.
He thrusts his entire length into you, fucking you into the mattress with such force you can hear the animalistic slapping of skin on skin and it only makes you wetter. His eyebrows are furrowed, angry. You scream, as best you can with his hand around your neck. He silences you with a searing kiss, much less gentle than before, with teeth clashing together.
The gentleness that had been in all his previous actions was gone; he gave no pauses while he pounded into you. He was snarling as he hammered unapologetically into you. “You can never leave me, brat. Be my good, submissive girl and I’ll reward you. Misbehave and you will not enjoy the punishment.”
Despite his rough movements, the pain and pleasure worked together, and it had you clenching around him because it just felt so good.
“Aw,” he sneered, “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” His thrusts had a sense of urgency to them, and he bit his lip as he growled in your ear. His free hand assaulted your clip with delicious friction that had the pleasure in your gut building until it was nearly ready to burst.
Levi grunted, “I’m gonna cum… and you’re gonna take every. Last. Drop.” He punctuated his words with forceful thrusts into your cunt.
“Cum with me… cum now.”
And that pleasure burst, clenching uncontrollable around his cock and milking each rope of sticky white fluid that filled your pussy.
He heaved over you, releasing his grip on your neck, and slowly pulled his softening cock out of your sopping pussy with a squelch.
He left you on the bed, panting and wrecked. Your forehead and hair damp with sweat, covered in his teeth marks and bruises that would be impossible to cover. His cum leaking out of your ruined cunt. He returned with a damp cloth, the cold liquid making you flinch, then relax into the soothing feeling as he wiped at your intimates.
Your eyelids felt heavy, and you couldn’t will yourself to move. But soon there was something being placed around your throat.
“Mmm… fits perfectly.”
It was a white, lace collar, with a dainty little heart.
‘Levi’
“Now, you’re truly mine.”
#levi ackerman#levi x reader#yandere levi#yandere au#yandere#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#yandere aot#yandere snk#yandere imagines#aot smut#levi smut#snk smut#yandere x reader#yandere scenario#levi ackerman x reader#victorian era au#alternate universe#fanfiction#obsession#posessive#delusional#stalker
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take your hand in mine
pairing: itadori yuuji x fushigoro megumi
characters: itadori yuuji, fushigoro megumi, kugisaki nobara, fushiguro tsumiki (mentioned), fushiguro toji (mentioned), gojo satoru (mentioned)
rating: general audiences, no warnings apply
words: 1968
summary: yuuji is half-decent at painting his nails for a beginner. megumi is absolutely smitten and gets pulled along for the ride. they're both in love and clueless.
or: an intimacy fic where yuuji paints megumi's nails. because those boys deserve some quiet time.
ao3 link
Itadori Yuuji isn’t someone who gets embarrassed easily. He rarely pays attention to the opinions of others, and not for a lack of caring. He has such a strong sense of self, such an unwavering faith in his own mind that criticism often flies right over his head. On anyone else, the trait would far too-closely resemble arrogance – even self-centeredness. The pink-haired boy, however, is too gentle, too empathetic and kind. His steady confidence shines in a bright halo that threatens to overwhelm even those with the strongest defenses.
In simpler, more candid terms, Fushigoro Megumi feels like he can’t breathe when Yuuji smiles. If he were more honest with himself, he’d recognise that his feelings of breathlessness aren’t reserved for Yuuji’s full-watt smile. The truth is that around Yuuji, Megumi’s lungs work overtime. He is almost constantly filled with this restless sort of energy, the urge to act. It makes his fingers itch and his pulse lurch to his throat.
It’s a cool day. It had been overcast for a while, the clouds heavy with an oncoming storm so strong it could almost be tasted. Yuuji loves days like these. The feeling of his hair standing on end, the thickness of the air around him, the velvety grey of the sky. It is the sort of day that makes you want to stay inside with lights dimmed and quiet music playing.
Yuuji finds himself in this exact position, scrolling through Pinterest on his laptop. Ever since meeting Megumi and Nobara, he had discovered a newfound love for fashion. He loved bright colours and stark geometric patterns and shiny skin and lips. It felt fresh and energising. He loved the attention to detail that went into putting together a full outfit – the studded belts, sheer scarves, painted nails.
Yuuji loved the look of nail polish. He could wear his dark uniform and still bring colour into his life, and for cheap. Plus, going shopping with Nobara was always a fun experience. She had picked out a bright purple shade for Yuuji, but he had his eyes on a bottle bursting with golden yellow. He bought them both at her loud insistence. They ate sushi that day. It was nice.
Now Yuuji sits on his bed, yellow bottle in slightly trembling hand. His nervous anticipation doesn’t come from fear that people would think he looked weird or strange; he is more worried about messing up the application and look messy, about which Nobara often complained. The concern quickly dissipates, though, making way for Yuuji’s quiet excitement as he opens the bottle.
The breaking of the seal causes a wave of fumes to fill his room. Yuuji’s nose tickles. He sneezes a few times, coming dangerously close to spilling the yellow paint everywhere. Thankfully, his reflexes are stronger than his body’s averse reaction. He slowly lifts the brush out of the bottle, taking care to wipe off the excess varnish just as Nobara had told him. With a slightly steadier hand, he begins painting his left index finger. He moves on to the next, then the next, then his right hand (which is considerably more difficult and why didn’t Nobara say anything about that?) Though he was unpracticed, he didn’t make a huge mess like he thought he would. Save for a few yellow-tinged cuticles, he had done a pretty decent job.
For a while, Yuuji just sits back and admires his work. Nobara had told him to wait no less than 15 minutes before even thinking about using his hands. Yuuji lasts 5 minutes before looking for a cooking video to pass the time. Nothing was smudged, and Yuuji quite happily sits through more than a few videos before the smell of the nail polish becomes too much for him. It had been plenty of time now, so he doesn’t worry about messing up his nails as he opens the door to his room.
He stops short as he finds Megumi on the other side of it.
If anyone asked, Megumi was just walking past Yuuji’s room for no reason. In fact, he was only going to get water, and had to pass by Yuuji’s room in order to get to the common area. The reason he stopped at his classmate’s door at all was simply to ponder the possibility of getting a snack. There was no other motive behind it.
Sadly, all his excuses do nothing to hide his deer-in-headlights expression. Before he can open his mouth in order to deny being there on purpose, a hand is thrust towards his face. Megumi flinches back in a sort of surprised confusion before realising that Yuuji has yellow fingernails.
“Do you like them?” asks Yuuji, grinning at Megumi like an expectant puppy.
Oh. There’s that hummingbird thrum in his bones again. The rapid movement of blood that makes his head light and his breath shallow. Yuuji is beautiful.
“Yeah,” Megumi tries to answer. It’s at times like these, when he’s lost for words and doesn’t know how to move his face to seem genuine, that he really appreciates Yuuji’s personality. Almost anyone else would have thought Megumi disinterested, or worse judgemental because of his monotone and lacklustre response. Thankfully, Yuuji just huffs out a laugh.
“You don’t have to sound so excited about it, Fushiguro.” He rolls his eyes, still grinning, arm still extended. “I thought you would’ve appreciated it more.”
Megumi softly bats his hand away. “I don’t ‘not appreciate it’, Itadori. It’s cool. I’m just… thinking about how it probably wouldn’t suit me.”
Megumi gets whacked on the shoulder. “Hey!” He complains as Yuuji pulls him into his room and sits him down on the bed. The nail polish smell, not having quite left the room yet, makes Megumi’s nose wrinkle up. Yuuji lets out a giggle that sounds like sunshine on skin.
“What are you doing?” Megumi almost whines as Yuuji rummages around in his closet. Yuuji turns to face him, pulling a plastic bag out with him with a flourish. His smile hasn’t left his face yet, and Megumi feels like he’s drowning in it.
“Won’t suit you? We’ll see about that,” says Yuuji, confident as always.
Megumi tries not to splutter. “Well. Yellow isn’t really my colour, Itadori.” He says his name too softly, like he always does. He tenses up and hopes Yuuji doesn’t notice.
To his almost-disappointment, Yuuji doesn’t react. Instead, he pulls out a bottle of purple nail polish and throws it towards the bed, a way too smug look on his face. Megumi wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.
“Nobara got me to buy two,” he almost sing-songs, “so now you have to let me paint yours!”
In another reality, there is a Megumi that rips his gaze away from those brown eyes and mumbles something about Yuuji not making any sense. He leaves the room with his heart intact, and goes and eats ice cream with a spoon with his wolves in the dark.
Instead, he tries desperately to stay quiet, to suppress a gasp as Yuuji grabs his hand to inspect it. Megumi blames the tightness in his ribs on his binder and toughs it out. Except Yuuji’s hand is so warm and impossibly soft and that idiot shuffles close enough that their thighs are touching and it’s all. A lot.
Yuuji is still just cradling Megumi’s hand in both his own, turning it over and staring for so long it’s as if he’s trying to commit the skin to memory. The air is still thick with an oncoming storm, but now a tentative intimacy mingles amongst the electrified atoms. Megumi doesn’t dare move or speak, as if the universe will punish him by way of Yuuji letting go of his hand. He chooses rather to count each of Yuuji’s eyelashes, watch his nostrils flare as he breathes out in quiet concentration.
“You have really pretty fingers.” Yuuji murmurs, completely unaware of how devastating it is to Megumi’s heart.
Having been abandoned by his father, not knowing his mother, and his sister being in a coma, Megumi hasn’t been a close acquaintance to touch. Hell, even when his sister wasn’t confined to a hospital bed, he was too prickly and stubborn to receive hugs most of the time. Somewhere not-so-deep down, Megumi craves touch. Sometimes, he stares at the ceiling and wonders what it could feel like to be close to someone that didn’t involve the rigidity of training or the annoyance of Gojo’s hair ruffles. To feel warm and fuzzy and for it to be because of someone else’s hands.
Yuuji’s touch, combined with his soft words of praise, are a dream come true. Megumi can only cough awkwardly and watch as Yuuji starts to coat his short nails in purple. Yuuji’s tongue is almost the same colour as his hair, and it sticks slightly out of his mouth as he works. At some point Yuuji had turned that low music back on: a steady and slow lo–fi that does nothing to calm Megumi’s racing heart.
Yuuji keeps slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth on the back of Megumi’s hand as he glides the brush against his fingernails. It’s in all ways comforting as it is maddening, and Megumi does not expect the quiet, “you take such good care of your hands,” when it comes.
Yuuji chooses that exact moment to look into Megumi’s eyes. His face is so open and earnest and it’s becoming harder and harder to keep looking back without leaning forward into his space and just…
Megumi lets out a shaky breath. “Really? Thank you,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as possible with his pulse constricting in his jaw. His mouth feels dry.
Yuuji moves swiftly onto his other hand until all that’s left is his pinky. Not wanting to repeat the slight smudges he had accidentally painted onto Megumi’s left pinky, Yuuji pulls this last finger closer to his face, his breath fanning against it and sending shivers up Megumi’s whole arm. He finishes painting the nail quickly and carefully, but doesn’t put down Megumi’s hand.
Megumi can’t help the soft gasp he lets out as he feels a feather-light kiss pressed to his wrist. It’s as if his blood sings. They observe each other quietly for several moments – taking one another in, willing the silence to never break. Yuuji eventually pulls his face away from his work, now admiring the job.
“All finished.” Yuuji’s voice isn’t loud, but it fills the room. Megumi moves on the bed, beginning to pull his hand away. Yuuji drops his wrist in favour of grabbing Megumi’s waist with both hands, eyes almost panicked.
“You can’t leave yet!” His voice doesn’t raise above the volume of the music, but his words are emphatic. Megumi is trembling in his grasp. “You have to let them dry. And since I spent all that time painting your nails for you, it’s only fair that you stay here with me while you wait.”
Megumi is about to protest, knowing his limits are close to being reached. His face is burning hot and surely visible from the mere distance Yuuji sits away. He feels fit to burst.
The sky does before he has the chance.
The first clap of thunder sounds outside, and a pitter pattering of rain begins to thrum against the window. Megumi resigns himself to this still fume-filled room. He lies down on the bed next to Itadori Yuuji, feeling everything. He doesn’t answer when Yuuji asks if he wants to watch something, nor does he pay attention to whatever the pink-haired boy pulls up on YouTube for them.
Instead, Megumi exists in a content closeness to his friend, counting his eyelashes, and feeling the heat of Yuuji’s hands on his waist.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#itadori yuji#itadori yuuji#itafushi#megumi x yuuji#megumi x yuji#fushiguro megumi#i sure hope someone likes this!#elliot writes jjk
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Dimples and Laughter
Description: Sakusa has dimples. That’s it. This is what we are talking about today.
Disclaimer: I saw a post with something similar to this where they talked about Sakusa having dimples and I forgot who did it so when I find it, I’ll tag them. Just know that’s my inspiration for this. Anyways, enjoy my first post!
Genre: Fluff, sorta marriage and parenting au, drabble, slice of life,
Character Pairing: Timeskip Sakusa x Reader + your nine month old daughter, Rina
Warnings: none (unless babies count as a trigger warning lmao I’m really sorry), SAPPY AND ROMANTIC AF
A/N: I’m so obsessed with him
Word Count: 1.5k words
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You roll over to your side, groaning as the sun’s rays penetrate through your eyelids, stirring from your restful slumber. You reach to feel the side of the bed where Kiyoomi normally sleeps, the sheets now cool to the touch from abandonment. You sigh into his pillow, the subtle scent of his cologne wafting into your nose. You want to stay there forever, but most of all, you want his strong arms thrown around your waist, burying into his toned chest, the warmth emanating off his frame in waves and warming your body.
You feel yourself growing bored without his presence. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, trudging to the bathroom and turn the nob in the shower to get the hot water running. You throw your clothes into the hamper before hopping in. After showering, you grab some clothes from your closet and slip on a pair of sweats and t-shirt before tying up your damp hair. As you walk down the hall to begin breakfast, a fit of muffled laughter comes from behind a cracked door of the nursery.
Curiosity bubbles inside your chest and you tiptoe closer, leaning against the cool wood. Peeking through the small crack, the sight of your husband sitting on the sparkling clean floor, playing with your daughter, appears. A smile creeps onto your face as he holds her and lifts her up into the air and pulls her back down onto his lap. Her squeals of laughter fills your ears and Kiyoomi can’t hold back a deep chuckle, gentle and fluid, a flash of a smile flickers through his quiet laugh. Your eyes scan his handsome face, the beautiful head of curly, dark locks, obsidian eyes, his defined jawline, and the two moles above his right eyebrow only accentuates his beauty.
You continued to watch your husband play with your daughter as another squeal of laughter falls from her lips. Slowly, but surely, the small, fond smile grows into a grin, full of genuine joy, and stretched ear to ear.
His smiles were infrequent. Occasionally, you will receive a smirk or a lipped smile that shows the tiniest indent of dimples, but other than that, Kiyoomi Sakusa rarely smiled.
Your breath hitches, absolutely dumbfounded. He’s grinning. Out of four years of dating, three years of marriage and almost a year with a child, you had never seen him beam with pure happiness until now. The dimples hidden behind his calm, nonchalant expression emerge. He has dimples, the indents on his cheeks so prominent that you are tempted to stick skittles in them and convinced that they will stay.
Understanding the rarity of this small moment, you stand there, lingering by the door and taking in every second that brilliant smile is on his face. The last thing you wanted was forget the smile that brought out the divots in his cheeks. It was like falling in love with him all over again, the feeling strangely familar, yet still foreign. Your mind spaces out, your heart swells with love, threatening to burst through your chest because your poor heart can’t take it. How is it possible that you can fall in love with him more than you already were?
He’s difficult to read under his calm and collected demeanor. Everything is out of the blue with him, but he never fails to make you fall for his beautiful unpredictabilities. When he kisses your forehead through his mask after coming home, showering immediately and once he does, his lips will always be found on yours; when he mutters, “thank you, love,” when you hand him a cup of coffee or tea; when he purposely places your favorite mug on the top shelf of the cabinet so you have to ask him to grab it for you and he gets the chance to kiss your shoulder or cheek and hug you from behind; when you catch him staring at you and he doesn’t look away, he has a fond look of awe in his eyes, unwavering, and heat rushes up your face.
The unpredictability of Kiyoomi only makes you hopelessly fall in love with him. It never fails to make your stomach flip at the small acts of affection he gives you, undeniable adoration he shows to you and to you only. It hits you when you least expect it and it's a wonderful surprise that renders you tongue-tied and you try to say the words, but your mind is in too much of a jumbled mess that they don’t fall past your throat. It was moments like these that left you star-struck and utterly speechless. You swear he’s going to be the death of you.
You decide to finally make your presence known. You nudge the door open, careful not to disturb their peace.
“Good morning, Kiyoomi,” you whisper as you gently shut the door behind you.
He lifts his head at your voice, a flicker of a smile still teasing his lips when he finally lets his face relax. “Good morning, darling.” The pet name always sends tingles across your body, making your toes curl and your heart ache.
Your daughter is still paying attention to him, her arms making motions in the air, trying to get his attention so he can lift her again. He obliges and the sweet ring of hysteric giggles fill the room once again.
You sit down next to him, your daughter’s large eyes on you now as Kiyoomi set her back down on his lap, his large hands holding her gently and rubbing her back in soothing patterns. His practicality and carefulness made parenthood look good on him.
“Good morning, Rina,” you say sweetly as you stroke the dark bunch of hair she inherited from her father.
She babbles as if trying to come up with a construction of sentences. You place a few kisses on her head, smiling at her nonsense words. Out of the corner of your eye, Kiyoomi lets his face break into a fond smile. You smile even wider.
“It seems to me that you have been using her as a dumbbell to workout,” you joke. He has been taking more days off to help you raise your daughter and she has grown even more fond of him.
He quirks an amused eyebrow. “She isn’t heavy enough to be a weight.”
You roll your eyes. “I know that.” You hadn’t forgotten his taut, muscular figure, toned with muscle and minimal fat.
“Have you eaten anything yet?” You ask as your thumb creates circles on his forearm, coiled with veins and tendons.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“I’ll start breakfast right now.” You start to stand up, but his calloused hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back.
“Can I have a kiss?” He asks gingerly, his hand caressing your jaw. It was adorable when he asked for affection and it wasn’t often when he asked.
You give him more than just a kiss. You lean in, your hand rests on his shoulder and kisses him a few times. Each time you pull away, you smile against his lips as you lean in for another one.
“I love you.” The declaration of love whispered against his lips as you placed another kiss there to seal it, let it seep into his skin, make it known to him you meant every word.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs, his thumb cradling your cheek.
You break your loving gaze from your husband to your daughter, her eyes wide as she stares at the both of you, mouth slightly agape as her brain tries to register the tender action her parents just shared. Kiyoomi’s ears are brushed with a pink tinge. Still blushing after almost being together for almost ten years? You want to say, but you bite your lip to prevent them from falling.
You laugh, light and airy as you kiss her forehead. “And I love you, Rina.”
You lift yourself from the floor, walking to the door and closing it behind. You try your best to suppress the stupid grin on your face, but fail miserably. You walk to the kitchen to make yourself coffee. You open the cabinet to get your mug and realize Kiyoomi put it on the top shelf once again. Attempting to get the mug yourself is a lost cause because he absolutely forbids it in the case you might hurt yourself.
You smile, but it falls from your face when your jaw begins to tense, letting you know you have been smiling so much to the point it hurts. Instead, you just let your lips tug at the ends.
You fervently wish he never stops surprising you. Routine is a part of Kiyoomi’s lifestyle and he enjoys the familiarity and repetition; it brings him comfort. It is easier for him to follow a paved road than a gravel path. How much of a surprise it was for him to include you into his routine and take the beaten path instead so he can see the flowers while walking side by side with you.
Repetition and changeability contrasts with each other like black and white, yin and yang, like the cherry blossom petals dancing in the spring air and the autumn leaves floating in the cool fall breeze, but when they are put together, it creates something beautiful and Kiyoomi is the embodiment of that strange yet beautiful combination.
#haikyu x reader#haikyu fluff#haikyuu!!#haikyu drabble#sakusa imagines#sakusa x reader#sakusa fluff#sakusa drabble#domestic sakusa#kiyoomi sakusa x reader#kiyoomi sakusa#haikyū!!
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My Thoughts on Pride and Prejudice 1980: The Ladies Take Center Stage
It's easy to forget that there are dozens, if not hundreds, of other Pride and Prejudice adaptations because the discussion is generally limited to "1995 versus 2005." The subject of this review is the 1980 BBC miniseries adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, which stars Elizabeth Garvie as Elizabeth Bennet and David Rintoul as Mr. Darcy and consists of five 1 hour long episodes. Some Pride and Prejudice fans consider this show as the definitive version of the book, since it was one of the first adaptations that attempted to be faithful to the story by incorporating much more of Austen's dialogue compared to previous adaptations.
1. THE PRODUCTION
The video quality is blurry (typical with 1970s/1980s BBC TV shows), so this adaptation is hard to watch compared with the 1995 and 2005 adaptations. While I like the historic houses used in the miniseries, boring, stuffy studio interiors are used for the interior scenes (except for Pemberley). I would only recommend this adaptation for extreme Pride and Prejudice fans/completionists.
Each episode's opening credits are accompanied by illustrations of what happens in the episodes, reminding the viewer that they are watching a filmed version of the book. The caricatured figures are not appealing to the eye and look dated. It doesn't help that they all are accompanied by "ye olde timey" music.
The costumes are for the most part very historically accurate for the early 19th century Regency Era, possibly even more so than the 1995 version with open chests, since the women's day dresses cover their necks as well. The costume designer mastered the famous Regency era white dress; I liked Elizabeth's white day dress and Jane's white evening gown. However, not all the costumes are flattering; some of the ugly floral patterns and garishly bright colors come straight from the 1970s, while a lot of decent evening dresses are ruined by fake lace or clunky 1970s bibs.
The hair is mostly accurate, with the exception of Mary's straight bangs and pixie cut. Unfortunately, the makeup is of the 1970s, especially with the penciled eyeliner/eyebrows on Jane and Caroline Bingley. Poor Mr. Bingley meanwhile has the most unflattering 1970s "helmet bowl" hairstyle.
2. PLOT AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT
The adaptation focuses heavily on the female relationships within the book, much more so than other adaptations. Throughout the episodes, there are many slice-of-life scenes in which the Bennet sisters are gathered together in conversation while occupying themselves with typical activities for women of the Regency era (sewing, flower arranging, trying on clothing).
Charlotte Lucas has a larger role here than in the book. In this adaptation, she frequently visits the Bennet sisters at Longbourn, and the screenwriter uses her dialogue as a representation of the Regency perception of marriage as an economic proposition.
Mary Bennet also receives more screen time, and like Charlotte, she voices Regency attitudes towards women in general through her didactic remonstrances.
The many scenes in Elizabeth and Jane's bedroom are a means for Elizabeth to express the feelings and attitudes that she keeps hidden from society.
Elizabeth's favoring of Mr. Wickham is more obvious; she even pronounces him to be "above everyone, in person, countenance, [and] air" and is delighted that Wickham's trash-talking of Darcy confirms her hatred of him.
Inner monologues highlight Elizabeth's mental transformation as she grapples with the consequences of her prejudice against Mr. Darcy and considers the consequences of her family's social gaffes.
I dislike that the show chose to end with Mrs. Bennet's joy over the advantageous marriages of her elder daughters. It reinforces the perception that these marriages are ultimately for money rather than love.
The cast consists of largely unknown (to a mainstream audience) British actors whose portrayals of the characters are solid and replicate the book exactly. The rest of the supporting cast portray the characters just as they are in the book, but do not otherwise stand out. Here are my comments on the lead actors and other supporting cast:
Elizabeth Garvie: Garvie effectively portrays Elizabeth's wit, intelligence, and poise. She also looks right for the part, as she is believably youthful and has captivating eyes. Her pride is not so obvious because Garvie acts like a proper Regency girl, but it is brought out by the way Elizabeth looks people straight in the eye and addresses them directly while confidently stating her opinions, however flawed. My only minor nitpick is that Elizabeth is less vulnerable here; most of the time she is confidently in control of every situation she faces and has a smile for everyone.
David Rintoul: Rintoul looks the part, as he is tall, handsome, proud, and carries himself gracefully. However, he is too stiff and boring like a robot. In many scenes, even private ones with his close friends, he is always standing at attention like a soldier. With the exception of the Pemberley visit and the second proposal, he never smiles, and his voice is very monotone, even in the key romantic scenes where he is supposed to lose himself to his great passion for Elizabeth. Though he tries to appear amused at times, and shows some intelligence, his stiff body language never changes, undercutting the meaning behind his words.
While fans of this show have praised Rintoul for being stiff, like book Darcy, this stiff portrayal hinders Darcy's character development, since he must change his cold manners in order to be worthy of Elizabeth's love. There are MANY instances in the book where Darcy shows some emotion; he smiles as he teases Elizabeth at Rosings, becomes angry when Elizabeth rejects his first proposal, and blushes when he sees Elizabeth at Pemberley. This Mr. Darcy is "all politeness" and we don't get to see Elizabeth peeling back his cold exterior to reveal the good man underneath, unlike in the book.
Malcolm Rennie as Mr. Collins: His portrayal of Mr. Collins is very similar to 1995's Mr. Collins, as both are fat and simpering (maybe 1995's portrayal of Mr. Collins is a copy of this one, except even grosser). I also like how he is super moralizing and preachy in this version. He even walks like a penguin too!
Casting I disliked:
Moray Watson as Mr. Bennet: His Mr. Bennet is thoroughly unsympathetic; he does nothing but scold the family, slam doors, and drink tea. While Mr. Bennet is a neglectful parent, he expresses his dislike of the family in far more subtle ways and does not get into fits of anger easily.
Judy Parfitt as Lady Catherine de Bourgh: While the adaptation makes clear that Lady Catherine likes getting her way, this Lady Catherine isn’t intimidating enough to frighten anyone into submission. What doesn't help is that the scene where she interrogates Elizabeth about her family situation is cut; this scene is important in establishing Lady Catherine's tyrannical personality.
The actresses hired to play Kitty and Lydia Bennet are far too old for the parts; they do not look like teenagers!
Scenes I liked:
The opening scene -- the adaptation gives Charlotte a larger role, as she visits Elizabeth at Longbourn right after the news of Bingley's arrival. She also reveals her practical view on marriage as a necessity for securing comfort, which is at odds with Elizabeth's view of marriage as an equal partnership between people who love each other.
"First Impressions" -- Elizabeth shares her bad opinion of Darcy with Jane and reveals that the Bingleys earned their wealth in trade, making them "new money" as opposed to the Darcy family, which has many generations of nobility. This detail about the origins of Bingley's wealth could explain Caroline's extreme arrogance and make Jane's separation from Bingley on the basis of her poor connections more cruel.
Elizabeth at Mr. Lucas' party: This adaptation includes a scene from the book which isn't in many other adaptations, not even the 1995 miniseries. Elizabeth, acting impertinently to catch the attention of Darcy's "very satirical eye," addresses him sarcastically. Charlotte then gets Elizabeth to play the piano and she takes another opportunity to show off her wit:
"There is a fine old saying, which every body here is of course familiar with - 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge', and I shall keep mine to swell my song."
Jane and Elizabeth at Netherfield. In a series of scenes, Elizabeth confides in Jane her true thoughts and feelings about Darcy, the Bingleys, and the Hursts. For instance, she theorizes about why Darcy stares at her and rants about how disagreeable and annoying the Netherfield party are. It's really entertaining to see Elizabeth driven to frustration by the arrogant rich people.
Any scene with Mr. Collins in it, but here are the funniest ones:
Mr. Collins eating with the Bennet family: I laughed at how he examines the food with a critical eye before shoving it in his mouth quickly. It perfectly captures Mr. Collins' arrogance combined with bad manners.
Mr. Collins at the Netherfield Ball: he cannot dance and embarrasses Elizabeth (definitely a parallel with the 1995 version, where he bumps into the other dancers and apologizes profusely).
Mr. Collins' first proposal to Elizabeth: I laughed at the added flourish (not in the novel), where he bends down on one knee, but instead of professing love for the intended, states proudly to Elizabeth that the main benefit of the marriage is the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Collins' proposal to Charlotte Lucas: this is not in the original book, as it is (mostly) limited to Elizabeth's point of view, where she only finds out about the proposal after it happens. This comical scene begins with pleasant music and blooming flowers to establish romantic connotations, before it cuts to an awkward Mr. Collins following Charlotte Lucas. When Charlotte accepts Mr. Collins, they are sitting together by a rosebush, and his pure joy at the unromantic, arranged marriage, combined with the floral imagery from earlier, elevate the situational irony and make for a good laugh. The flower imagery also ties into Charlotte's earlier comparison of marriage to growing a plant; Elizabeth challenges Charlotte's assertion by asking her what would happen if the soil was poor (metaphor for the respect Elizabeth feels is a foundation for a loving relationship).
Aunt Gardiner's advice to Elizabeth: This scene isn't included in other adaptations, not even the 1995 miniseries. Here Aunt Gardiner warns Elizabeth against falling in love with Wickham, telling her that she needs to keep her common sense intact; Elizabeth dismisses this, fully confident in her powers of judgment. It's great that this exchange is included because it foreshadows the discovery of Wickham's true character, and hints that Elizabeth's perceptions of others may be wrong.
Scenes I disliked:
The romantic scenes. This adaptation unfortunately fails in the romance department; there is zero chemistry between the actors; even the otherwise wonderful Elizabeth Garvie is not exempt. (more about this later).
The first country ball. The interior is dark, small, cramped and stagey. Also, the dancing and overall manner of the guests is very sedate and orderly; it’s so quiet you can hear the dancers feet scrape the floor in spite of the music. This isn't very realistic compared with the other adaptations, where we are presented with much more boisterous country dances.
The activation of Stalker Darcy: While Elizabeth plays the pianoforte, Darcy, while shrouded in darkness, moves like a ghost among the crowd until he all of a sudden appears very close to the pianoforte and golf-clapping. perhaps Darcy is a blood sucking vampire? Though this scene is entertaining for all the wrong reasons, it doesn't make sense that Darcy's love for Elizabeth makes him even more robotic and creepy.
Lady Catherine confronting Elizabeth: While the dialogue for this scene is lifted straight from the book, there isn't quite enough fury and anger on the part of either person.
3. THE SCRIPT
What makes this adaptation stand out is the script by Fay Weldon. While the majority of the script is taken directly from the book, many have commented that her interpretation of Pride and Prejudice is much more feminist because of the greater emphasis on Elizabeth's point of view, as well as her relationships with other women. Many of the creative changes made emphasize the ridiculousness of the patriarchy and Elizabeth's outspokenness. In addition, Austen's narration slips into the dialogue of the female characters; for instance, Mary proclaims the village's judgment of Darcy as "the proudest most disagreeable man in the world."
Creative Changes/Great Quotes from the Script:
Darcy adding further insult to injury: after proclaiming Elizabeth to be unattractive to him, he adds: "She has too many sisters."
Mrs. Bennet criticizing poor Mary: “You read too much! No wonder you’re shortsighted.”
Elizabeth has had enough with Darcy, the Hursts, and the Bingleys: “Jane, they are monsters! They like nothing and dislike everything!"
Elizabeth has no patience: "This is unendurable! Mr. Darcy has scarcely spoken more than 10 words to me during the whole of today!"
Mary Bennet praises Mr. Collins' writing skills: "But he is intelligent. In point of composition the letter he wrote Father was not deficient and it was very long."
Mr. Collins scrutinizes Longbourn (his future inheritance) Part 1: "The hall. The hall should be imposing. This one is spacious enough but a little dark..."
Mr. Collins scrutinizes Longbourn Part 2: "Truly a gracious dining room. Lady Catherine de Bourgh would not be ashamed to dine here...The table, though a trifle rustic, is solid and a good match."
Mr. Collins provides much needed moral lessons to Kitty and Lydia: "I have often observed how many young ladies are very little interested in books of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. Certainly there can be nothing so advantageous to them as instruction."
Mr. Collins on Anne de Bourgh: "She is agreeably fragile, and she is to marry Mr. Darcy."
Lady Catherine de Bourgh supporting the patriarchy: "If I were to have more children, they should all be sons."
Mr. Collins' Aquatic Hat: In one of many examples where Lady Catherine micromanages everyone's life, she orders Mr. Collins to plant bulrushes by the lake and per her instructions he orders an ugly top hat with a shower cap inside it to prevent himself from drowning. Charlotte and Elizabeth laugh about it when Mr. Collins isn't looking.
Darcy is a dog person, how sweet! Before the first proposal and before he meets Elizabeth again at Pemberley, Darcy is accompanied by a dog. Perhaps if he brought his dog to the first proposal it would have succeeded?
Elizabeth's internal monologue after she reads the letter: I normally dislike internal monologues because they detract from the action or become redundant, but I like how this adaptation utilizes the internal monologue to show Elizabeth actively confronting her prejudice against Mr. Darcy and acknowledging that she has acted wrongly in judging him harshly. Some adaptations reduce or even leave out this fundamental part of Elizabeth's personal growth. My only quibble with this scene is that Elizabeth lets go of her prejudice too soon and in too calm a manner. In the book, she is initially angry at Darcy and needs to reread the letter multiple times before she starts to form a grudging respect for Mr. Darcy. For Elizabeth, letting go of her prejudice is a slow, exhausting, and emotionally taxing process, unlike in this adaptation, where her logical reasoning allows her to quickly overcome her unreasonable hatred of Darcy.
4. THE ROMANCE (or, to be more accurate, lack of)
Many of the key romantic scenes between Elizabeth and Darcy are shortened, which surprised me because the length of a miniseries in general allows for more character development. I was hoping to see a fuller picture of Darcy and Elizabeth's relationship than could be provided in a movie.
While the female characters of the adaptation are fully rounded and have many opportunities to express their perspectives, the male characters remain one-dimensional and do not get the same treatment as the women. In other words, the male characters are reduced to mere objects of affection.
Some critics have argued that Darcy is irresistible to women in part because he is mysterious. Even his appearance is left to the reader's imagination, as Austen only notes that Darcy has a "fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien...[and] ten thousand a year." Thus, the reader gets to craft their ideal version of Mr. Darcy; he could look like any handsome man. When the "historically accurate Mr. Darcy" image was released several years ago (where he looks like George Washington); many, including me, were disappointed because we all have different images of Mr. Darcy in our heads (or more likely, we pick between Colin Firth and Matthew Macfadyen). This adaptation capitalizes into the mystique of the character by leaving the viewers to guess Darcy's intentions. Since we do not have access to his internal thoughts or motivations, we are limited to what we see before our eyes, much like the Meryton villagers. We do not get to see how Darcy develops feelings for Elizabeth; nor do we see how he is like in private occasions (even when alone with his friends, he says little and reveals little).
Other critics/Austen scholars/fans have argued that the one-dimensional treatment of male characters is in keeping with the unique writing style of Pride and Prejudice. Typically, female characters were the ones reduced to objects of affection for the male characters. Austen reverses this norm by focusing more on Elizabeth's viewpoint while Darcy remains mysterious.
Though a more reserved Darcy may work in the book, it does not serve the development of the romance well. Darcy's falling in love with Elizabeth is characterized by a gradual loss of control over himself; in his words he was "in the middle before I knew that I had begun [falling in love]." After all, he cannot stop staring at Elizabeth and frequently tries to keep talking to her at Netherfield before he begins to feel "the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention." During his first proposal, he is agitated, and when Elizabeth rejects him, becomes angry. It is obvious, in the book and in the 1995 and 2005 adaptations as well, that the man is clearly an emotional train wreck.
The conflict between Darcy's outer shell and inner self is a key part of his falling in love with Elizabeth, and the adaptation misses out on this with a stiff, wooden Darcy who always carries himself properly and never smiles. In general, the most entertaining romances have this tension between self-control and passion, with lapses in manners usually the only sign of the passion beneath the surface; after all, in Elizabeth's words, “Is not general incivility the very essence of love?”
Back to the idea of the one-dimensional Darcy being an inversion of gender norms in writing: I have to disagree with this because (this is obvious I'm sure) Darcy is still a fully rounded character and does undergo his own journey, since he has to change his manners to earn Elizabeth's love. This quote shows what Darcy has learned about himself:
"I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was...given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son, (for many years an only child) I was spoilt by my parents [who] almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own."
Though some fans of this adaptation like how the other relationships are treated with equal importance as the well-known love story, the romance is important as a source of personal growth for Elizabeth as well as Darcy. After all, they do have to overcome the "pride and prejudice" that separates them.
The marriage of Darcy and Elizabeth is a feminist triumph for Elizabeth Bennet; in my review of the 2005 movie, I noted that Elizabeth Bennet is revolutionary because of her unwillingness to compromise on her belief that marriage should based on love and respect, contrary to the prevailing social view of marriage as an economic proposition. While it seems counter-intuitive for a repressive institution like marriage to be a feminist triumph, Austen's heroines use marriage as a means of gaining not just material comforts, but ultimately the self-respect they desire by uniting themselves with partners whom they are equals with. The marriages Austen's heroines make are testaments to their independence, as they are choices made by the women themselves. Even Charlotte Lucas' otherwise unhappy arranged marriage works for her, since she enjoys the freedom that running her own household gives her. Not focusing on the romance of Elizabeth and Darcy leaves out Austen's complex perspective on marriage as a social necessity but also an unlikely route to freedom.
Here's my breakdown of the Elizabeth and Darcy scenes in this adaptation and why the romance fails:
"She is tolerable:" Elizabeth reacts rather too sedately to the insult Darcy gives her (and he also makes an added comment about her having too many sisters); unlike in other versions where she attempts to suppress a laugh or even taunts Darcy outright. The adaptation diverges from the book by having Elizabeth tell her mother instead of her friends about Darcy's insult; it does not make sense why Elizabeth would confide this in her mother, given that she knows her mother is a fool.
Netherfield dance: Darcy attempts to flirt with Elizabeth during this dance (which only lasts one minute!), but doesn't succeed because of his poor social skills and her prejudice. It's also an amazing battle of wits, as Darcy counters Elizabeth's accusations while admonishing her not to trust Wickham.
Unfortunately, the adaptation cuts out essential dialogue revealing the extent of Elizabeth's prejudice and foreshadowing the discovery of Wickham's true character. For example, what isn't included is Elizabeth's accusations that Darcy is to blame for ruining Wickham's life, to which he replies that Wickham is capable of charming others but not necessarily of retaining good friends.
More significantly, the adaptation cuts Elizabeth's admission that she cannot figure Darcy out:
"'May I ask to what these questions tend?' 'Merely to the illustration of your character,' said she...
'And what is your success?' She shook her head. 'I do not get on at all. I her such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.'
'...I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.'"
The development of the romance is harmed due to the omission of the portrait metaphor. Here, Darcy shrewdly observes to Elizabeth that her judgment of character may be flawed and foreshadows the discovery of her prejudice against him. After his many observations of Elizabeth, Darcy knows her so well that he can read her like an open book (though he underestimates the extent of Elizabeth's prejudice against him). The metaphor of the picture as a representation of character also becomes literal through Darcy's portrait at Pemberley; Elizabeth only falls in love with Darcy after examining his character through the portrait.
Ultimately, the Netherfield Ball dance between Elizabeth and Darcy is essential in demonstrating the fallacy of first impressions, and reducing the dialogue only to the beginning part where Elizabeth teases Darcy on his inability to make small talk undermines the richness of the story.
Darcy's first proposal: This scene is definitely the worst one in this miniseries because it fails on so many levels. First, this Darcy remains stiff throughout the entire proposal, like he was at a public ball rather than declaring love. This is a total contrast to book Darcy; who, though formal, is "agitated" and "pale with anger" at times. Those famous opening lines ("In vain I have struggled...") are delivered so quickly and without any sort of overwhelming passion. What should be the climax of Darcy finally letting the volcano of his repressed emotions erupt (with bad consequences for him) instead becomes a cold recitation of the script. Elizabeth also becomes robotic as well, repeating her lines back with a detached tone of voice as if reading a teleprompter. I'm warning you: be prepared for the worst 5 minutes of your life.
Visiting Pemberley: The adaptation utilizes Elizabeth's inner monologue as she praises Pemberley; it's interesting to people who have read and re-read the book, but I don't think it's necessary to "copy and paste" large portions of the book and read them to the audience.
I do like that this adaptation clearly indicates that Elizabeth still stands by her decision to reject Darcy's first proposal, even though she really likes his great big house:
"'And of this place,' thought she, 'I might have been mistress! 'I might have rejoiced in [these rooms] as my own, and welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. - 'But no'... 'I should not have been allowed to invite them.'"
Most adaptations include the "Pemberley could have been mine" part, but don't include Elizabeth's realization that Darcy's class prejudice would have estranged her from the Gardiners (unfortunately that includes the 1995 miniseries). Including Elizabeth's thoughts about her aunt and uncle dispels the perception that she is a gold-digger who marries Darcy only after realizing how rich he is.
The portrait: why, why, why does Darcy not smile in his portrait?! The book LITERALLY EMPHASIZES that DARCY SMILES in his portrait, revealing a more sensitive side to him than his cold and formal appearance would otherwise suggest. Big mistake.
Lydia's elopement: the adaptation messes up this scene so badly, which is unfortunate because the scene is important in showing how much Elizabeth trusts Darcy and how much he still loves her, as shown through his concern for her. First, it diverges from the book by having Elizabeth run several miles to Pemberley (while fully outfitted in a spencer, bonnet, and long dress) and somehow she doesn't sweat or faint from the exertion. Running to Darcy to tell him the news doesn't make any sense, since the book makes clear that she did not want anyone outside her family to know about Lydia's elopement, or else her marriage prospects would certainly be ruined; the news devastated her because she feared losing Darcy's respect due to his social prejudice. Darcy learning of the news was purely a coincidence because he happened to be waiting for her at the inn where she was staying (aw how romantic!). As for Darcy, he remains cold and doesn't seem concerned enough for Elizabeth, in contrast with the book, where he immediately springs into action. The adaptation also omits Darcy's kindness by cutting out the part of the scene where he consoles Elizabeth, gets her to sit down, and brings her some wine.
Second proposal: Darcy breaks the rules of social etiquette by going out alone with Elizabeth before proposing to her, unlike in the book where they are with Jane and Bingley, but this scene is still thoroughly unromantic because the two actors have zero chemistry.
5. CONCLUSION
Although this adaptation has some good moments, the dated production design, underdeveloped romance, and wooden acting means that I will only recommend this version to Pride and Prejudice nerds/extreme book purists. The adaptation is boring to watch unless you know the book by heart.
This script highlights Austen's wit and sarcasm, but the performances don’t always do it justice. The feminist approach to the novel makes the adaptation stand out, but comes at the cost of Darcy's character development and the central love story.
Purists and casual book fans are better served by the 1995 BBC miniseries, which has the right balance of entertainment, historical accuracy, and faithfulness to the novel.
Thanks to JASNA (Jane Austen Society of North America) for all the wonderful online articles that I pull many of my ideas from. I spent many hours entertaining myself by reading their scholarly analyses of Jane's other works as well as those related to Pride and Prejudice, and they have really helped me as I write these reviews.
@princesssarisa @austengivesmeserotonin @dahlia-coccinea @obscurelittlebird @appleinducedsleep @colonelfitzwilliams
#book adaptation#pride and predjudice#pride and prejudice#elizabeth bennet#mr darcy#mr bingley#long post#tv show review
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The Assistant - CH. 1
Description: Summary - Her sixth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be relatively peaceful but after an incident on the Hogwarts express, Violet Wilkes finds herself the newest target of the Weasley twins. This, combined with a dark family secret, and the Triwizard tournament, makes her first few months back more exciting and stressful than every year before.
pairing: George Weasley x Original Female Character
warnings: pg-13. slow burn, eventual smut hehe
https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218804/chapters/69148695
The Dark Mark.
Cloaked figures running, burning, torturing.
The threat of a second war.
Screaming.
A sharp train whistle brought Violet Wilkes back into her body on Platform 9 ¾, its sound tearing her mind away from the horrifying morning news in the Daily Prophet just last week. The moving pictures on the papers front page had barely left her thoughts, even now, as she was steps away from saying goodbye to her family for nearly a year, the dark mark burned behind her eyelids with every blink.
She walked ahead of her parents and little sister, weaving through the crowd of fawning mothers and sniffling siblings, towards the very last car in the line, dreading the long journey ahead more and more with every step.
For the past five years, she had seriously considered not returning to Hogwarts, solely because of the egregious train ride from London, and this year was no different, except for the pit in her stomach from the thought of noise, people, and confined space was joined by the fear of her family's hypothetical imminent doom at the hands of Death Eaters. Despite the fact that no one else shared her fears.
She'd told them all week that the events at the Quidditch World Cup weren't a fluke. No one conjured the most fearsome symbol in their world nearly thirteen years after its disappearance, by accident. It meant something.
A terrible something.
And now, she was leaving them. Defenseless.
Her father hadn't picked up his wand in nearly a decade, and her mother had no magical abilities to speak of. Her sister, Olivia, would surely be a powerful witch in the coming years but for now, she remained a timid ten-year-old. They hardly stood a chance without her. That was if the events last week were as dire and fearsome as she believed them to be.
Of all people, she thought her father would understand her worry but he insisted that it wasn't going to be like 'last time.' Even then, she'd made him swear that he would brush up on his spells and hexes just in case you-know-who had returned and picked up where he'd left off, targeting blood traitors and their families.
The train whistle cut through the commotion again and they sped up to make the 11:00 departure. She glanced down at her watch; 10:58.
If they hurried, she'd make it. But if they didn't, the train would mosey on without her. Not that she'd mind.
She looked around at her fellow hustling peers pouring into the train and exhaled sharply. What if she just stopped? Dropped to her knees and refused to move. Missed the train and begged her father to let her go to a muggle school as her mother had. Her fingers gripped the iron handrail in the vestibule of the final car, and she hesitated, ready to throw herself back onto the platform but deep down, she knew it was already too late. There was no avoiding the journey ahead.
Her sister launched into her arms, squeezing tight before her mother's arms replaced them around her neck. She kissed her father's cheek last, lingering on his kind, dark blue eyes, staring at their own mirrored pupils in her head. He pressed one more kiss onto her forehead before stepping back to wrap his arms around the other halves of her heart.
A blood-traitor.
How could anyone call him a blood traitor?
Easy, she thought. It was the same way her housemates called her a half-blood. With condescending smirks and dead eyes.
She turned to enter the car so they couldn't see the tear falling down her cheek and rushed to wipe it away before she came back into view through the last window.
Her sister called out a final time when the train began to slowly move away and a wave of dread constricted her lungs. The sound was too similar to the screams she heard in her nightmares nearly every night. Fog from her breath on the window obscured the final visible moments of her family's smiling faces and wildly waving arms as the platform disappeared from view.
11:00. As one torturous moment ended, another, 8-hour-long one, began. The ruckus of running feet, excited hello's, and sporadic spell work was instantaneous and completely impossible to ignore. She closed her eyes and tried to tune it out.
She couldn't conceive why a wizarding school would trust their unsupervised adolescent students to not blow each other up when muggle schools barely trusted their docile coeds to use the bathroom alone. Other people's happiness didn't normally give her such a headache but the lack of professor supervision provided no perimeters on her peer's ability to run amuck.
She felt her stomach flip with the swaying movement. Bile burned her throat, as the seat underneath her moved back and forth, rocking in a nauseating pattern. The noise, in combination with the repetitive piercing whistle and lurching wheels thudding through London, was dizzying.
Distraction. She needed a distraction.
Calloused leather brushed her hip, reminding her that she'd anticipated this very moment. She thanked her past self profusely and dug through the bag until the pebbly fabric of her favorite muggle book scratched her fingertips.
The deep blue hardcover still precariously clung to its title even after years of wear and tear, reading and rereading. She caressed the carved gold words with a shaky, anxious finger.
The Princess Bride
By William Goldman
It was a pity that the Hogwarts library didn't cater to muggle-born students, she thought. Even in Muggle Studies class, assigned readings were books about muggles, written by the magical beings that walked among them. Wizard writers were wonderful but their ability to write compelling fiction was limited when they can do the unthinkable with the mindless flick of a wand.
She flipped it open and paused to admire her mother's swirly signature on the dedication page before turning to the first chapter.
"I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you said 'Farm Boy do this' you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. 'I love you' was what it was, but you never heard, and you never heard."
"I hear you now, and I promise you this: I will never love anyone else. Only Westley. Until I die."
Eventually, the disorienting blur of houses, trees, and cars ceased— replaced by much more appealing, rolling hills and sprawling fields. The speed of the train was barely discernible as the scenery outside the window moved in slow motion, barely changing, monotonous and still, a comfort to her dizzy head.
She glanced towards the glass doors that were protecting her from the chaos throughout the halls and determined that the motion sickness and general discomfort had been suppressed. She took a deep breath and weighed the options for the second half of the trip. Stay, and finish the beloved book that lay open in her lap, or leave, and trade all peace for conversation.
Alone, but also lonely.
She'd probably missed loads of drama on the first half of the ride, and Sadie would surely be furious with her for being absent.
Sadie Baldock had plopped down next to her at the Slytherin table one random morning during her second week at Hogwarts. Happy to have some company, she'd let the energetic girl talk her ear off for the entire meal, not once interrupting or telling her to shut up, even though it would've been warranted. They'd been best friends ever since and she'd been an absolute treasure for the entirety of their past five years.
Despite Sadies strong personality and pension for gossip, she understood and accepted that Violet had no desire to be attached at the hip to anyone and gladly gave her space.
Alone and lonely, was much better than being suffocated, she thought. This had been her preference, even before she arrived at Hogwarts, and was sorted into Slytherin, her supposed 'family' away from home.
She scoffed and shook her head.
Family, yeah right.
Other houses might consider themselves family. Hers, however, felt more like a cage.
Families weren't supposed to be judgmental, at least not to the degree that her peers were. Families didn't shun disgraced peers for impure bloodlines or enforce generational loyalty without question. In recent years, the house had shed any sense of camaraderie left, even between those with pure-blood and ancient ties.
Due to this, tensions ran high and tempers were like time-bombs. It was exhausting to bite her tongue enough to remain cordial with most of the somewhat sane peers in her house and fly under the radar of the rest. She clenched her jaw, remembering Draco Malfoy and crew taunting her half-blood status and muggle mother.
Exhausting, but necessary, for self-preservation and peaceful existence. She occasionally betrayed herself with a viper-quick temper that was always simmering in her chest but most took it for stereotypical Slytherin nastiness, and not a haunting disdain for those who shared her green and silver uniform. This, a knack for potions and a morbidly dark wardrobe were perhaps the only evidence of a correct sorting.
Oh well, she thought. It was a bit late in her career to be considering a house change, besides, the sorting hat was a sod old brute who insisted that he was never wrong.
In actuality though, it wasn't all terrible. At least she had Sadie and the few other perks that came with the snake emblem.
The dungeons provided cool darkness that deprived the senses of any reason for restlessness and anxiety. Although the green uniform occasionally invited disapproving glances, it complimented her dark blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair much better than the blue and white of Ravenclaw, or heaven forbid the bright red Gryffindor insignia. And, she was only a few feet away from the potions classroom, where she'd managed to instate herself as one of the only students their head of house, Professor Severus Snape, did not actively hate. The bond had been painstakingly cultivated over the years the only that way he would allow; speaking when spoken to, correct answers, and perfect potions.
She stared out the window, focusing on the rolling hills, trying to let go of the gnawing feeling in the back of her mind that couldn't help but wonder if the hat had gotten it wrong.
Introspection was one of her biggest flaws. Sadie was constantly telling her to get out of her head and she knew that she was right. But, analysis always felt necessary, even about moments and emotions long gone. Sorting through every feeling, decision, movement; double-checking every second to make sure they were all accounted for, was compulsory.
Even now, six years later, she wondered whether she even truly belonged in Slytherin, and whether or not being sorted into the other houses would've been easier or even different at all. Would it have been better to be sorted into her father's Hufflepuff house?
Maybe, but unfortunately, when considering where to place her, the sorting hat had ignored her father and zeroed in on the countless other Wilkes before him, all in Slytherin, before deciding that she would be forced to pick up the lineage again. Not that any of them would ever know, or care.
She felt a shiver down her spine.
It was for the best that they hadn't any idea of her existence, let alone the continuation of their legacy.
She squeezed her eyes closed and the beautiful scenery outside dissolved into the Dark Mark behind her lids and the memory of photos she'd secretly found amongst her father's old school things. Photos of a boy, a few years older than her father, clad in green standing next to his younger brother in yellow and black.
A legacy, broken. A legacy, reborn.
She felt her heartbeat quicken and tried desperately to conjure the image of her sister, next year, with the sorting hat on her head, yelling any other house's name.
Screams from the next train car over tore her away from her thoughts. She jumped slightly and shook her head, glad for a distraction from the oncoming downward spiral. She'd forgotten where she was for a moment but another chorus of "no's" and laughter bursting through the door at the front of the cabin pulled her back to reality.
Pushing the doors apart slightly, she poked her head into the hall and moved to step out but voices stopped her. Loud, obnoxious, exuberant voices yelled something about "research" to an amused audience.
The Weasley twins.
Maybe the imminent doom she'd been worrying about wouldn't come at the hands of Death Eaters at all, but two idiotic and insufferable redheads instead.
She searched for an escape, eyes moving frantically, but her only option seemed to be a jump from the back door and onto the tracks below. Why hadn't she left to find Sadie when she'd had the chance?
Rolling her eyes as far back into her head as they would go, she sunk back down onto the bench and held her breath, hoping to miraculously turn invisible before the twins could sour her mood further.
"C'mon George, one last try," a voice belonging to Fred Weasley yelled over the last wave of students laughing and telling the twins to get lost.
She groaned, knowing that they were indeed coming for her. She couldn't think of a single time during her years at Hogwarts when she'd enjoyed the terroristic Weasley antics, but this moment was particularly ill-timed. Their talents for pranking were legendary and despite being in the same year, she'd never been a target or victim. But, it seemed as though her time had come.
She screwed her eyes shut, trying to find a single positive about the cursed situation. The nerves twisted her stomach into a knot while she listened to nearing footsteps. Maybe, if she played along and let them get it out of their system, they would leave quicker, and get back to ignoring her.
Another couple of torturous seconds crawled by before the twin who she thought might be George yanked open the cabin door.
She forced herself to breathe and tilted her head to meet them with a perturbed expression glued to her face; brows furrowed, lips pursed, and arms crossed. Every Slytherin instinct whispered in her ear to hex them back to London but the exhaustion from her emotional goodbye a few hours ago overwhelmed any anger left, resigning her to accept this fate without much of a fight.
"Well hello, Violet. Today is your lucky day."
She was right, the one coming in first was George Weasley. She recognized the two moles on the left side of his neck from Herbology last year when she'd fantasized about slashing his jugular when he wouldn't shut up.
He moved her feet from the bench opposite her, and she stared at him, noting that his slightly crooked nose also distinguished him from the brother coming in second. Once seated, they stared at her with intense brown eyes, and eager slack-jaw smiles —incredibly sharp features exaggerated by flowing radioactive red hair, waiting for an answer.
"Is that so?" she growled, conjuring a deadpan stare.
The twins straightened their chests and leaned forward simultaneously. "Yes, indeed," Fred said, the excitement in his face and voice completely unaffected by her cold response. "And we'll tell you why. George?"
"For a limited time only, you have the incredible opportunity to join us on an intellectual exploration," George explained. She shot him a disapproving glance before shifting back to Fred who was nodding fervently at his brother's side. "Groundbreaking research," he added, sensing her apprehension.
"I've never exactly thought of you two as intellectual," she sneered.
"Been thinking about us though?" George teased.
She cursed herself for the blush that formed instantly and shifted her gaze back to Fred who was still waiting anxiously to explain the situation.
"All you need to do is eat this delicious toffee," Fred said, producing a brown lump from his robe.
He shoved it towards her and unsuccessfully tried to hide the mischievous glint in his eye with a sweet smile.
She glared at him, remaining silent, unsure of what to say next. What were they trying to pull? And why did they think that she was going to fall for it this easily? Did they think she was stupid?
She narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore her bruised dignity. "You're joking," she drawled, earning fake looks of concern from both of the twins. "What makes you think I'm going to fall for that?"
Fred's long red hair covered his face slightly as he shook his head. "See this is where everyone keeps misunderstanding us, George."
George leaned across the small space between them. "Indeed Fred —Violet darling, clearly our offer is much too transparent to be a prank," he said, now a little too close for comfort. "This is product research for our business so please try and take it seriously."
She scowled at the pet name and leaned away. Why was he being so familiar with her?
Gryffindors. Always too friendly to be trusted. At least her fellow Slytherins never tried to hide their agenda, no matter how much their bluntness stung.
It was difficult to gauge how to best get rid of them. Their puppy dog eyes didn't seem to be affected by rudeness, if anything, it seemed to egg them on further. She decided to try another route instead, hoping to catch them off guard.
"Fine. In the spirit of transparency, say that I do eat it," she said. "What will happen to me?"
Their coy confidence turned to surprise. "It's only ever been tested on a Muggle so we have no clue," George confessed matter-o-factly. "Hence it being such a great research opportunity."
"You'd be a pioneer," Fred finished, a stupid confident grin returning to his face. "Maybe even a legend."
Violet looked down at Fred's outstretched arm and plucked the brown ball from his hand. She stared at it skeptically and brought it up to her nose. It smelled just like normal toffee, but no way it was that simple.
The twins exchanged a nervous glance and she could tell that they were holding their breath.
They most likely doubted her ability to take a joke and were probably nervous about the outcome of their prank, if she did indeed fall for it.
She couldn't blame them, of course. Last year, Blaise Zabini, one of Malfoy's toadies, joked about her mother being a muggle during the Halloween feast, and nearly the whole school had witnessed her merciless rebuttal. She stifled a smile, remembering the look on his face when she'd stuck her wand in his mouth and said "Langlock." His friends had scrambled and scratched to open his mouth again and Madam Pomfrey had about reached her wits end trying to figure out how to separate his tongue from the roof of his mouth. She wondered if they'd been there for that, but the sudden hesitation in George's smile told her they were well aware of her short fuse.
Lucky for them though, she didn't have enough energy to fly off the handle today.
She slipped her wand out of her bag and touched the tip to the toffee, muttering a revealing charm. "Specialis Revelio."
The twins lunged forward to snatch their sweet back, but she was quicker.
"An engorgement charm?"
"That's cheating," Fred protested.
"What is this?"
They stared at her with a mixture of defeat and annoyance.
"It's a ton-tongue-toffee," George said grimly. "The newest product from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."
She remembered him talking about his plans for a joke shop constantly in Herbology, while his gaggle of admiring Gryffindors hung onto every word but she never thought he could be serious about such a stupid career endeavor.
She frowned. "That's idiotic."
"That's the whole point," Fred snapped. "It would've been funny if you hadn't taken the easy way out."
"What would have been funny?" she countered, relishing in their sudden mood shift from smug to perturbed. "Me casting a counter-charm as soon as I felt my tongue swelling? I thought you two were supposed to be good at pranks."
She tried to hide her delight at the ability to get under their skin. Their presence was unwelcome but not as completely intolerable as she had expected, even as their cheerful nature and goofy grins faded, they were almost bearable.
Suddenly, she saw something dark shift over George's gaze. "Well then eat it, if you're so sure."
Violet's eyes widened, unprepared for the confident challenge. Irritation moved swiftly through her chest. She tried to hide her nerves and glanced down at the ball in her hand. It would be easier to tell them to leave, or even get up and walk away but she couldn't let a Weasley best her.
If living inside of her head was her first flaw, then pride was her second.
Her eyes bore holes into George's, and regardless of what happened next, his look of shock was prize enough as she popped the lump into her mouth. The toffee was a little warm and soft but not inedible, she wondered if their mother had made it.
Her mouth was fuzzy before she even swallowed, and as she had suspected, her tongue began to swell profusely. She poked the tip of her wand to her tongue as it flopped out of her mouth, nearly reaching twice its size.
"Reducio."
The twin's mouths dropped open in shock before they exchanged a curious glance. Even though the counter-charm came out with a slight lisp, as quick as it had happened, her mouth closed around her normal-sized tongue, the caramel-like taste of toffee on her lips all that remained of the prank.
She broke her staring contest with George and glanced back to Fred, but neither looked like they were going to say anything.
Arrogance replaced her irritation and she just couldn't hold back.
"Had you not thought of that?" She asked with a smug smile. "I hope none of your other products are so easily reversible. Who would want to buy something so temporary? Faulty merchandise is hardly a way to run a business."
They both stared at her in displeasure, but George looked more enraged than anything, not that she cared about hurting his feelings. This was turning out to be quite fun, she thought.
"Well, you've been a lovely assistant," Fred said, trying to quell the tension and clearly over the situation. "C'mon Georgie, finding someone less capable than Wilkes will be a snap."
George didn't budge. He just stared back at her, his brow furrowed, like he couldn't remember her name anymore. The thoughtful expression was freaking her out. She waited for him to return to the annoying ginger twat who had entered her cabin without permission but his expression didn't change.
His eyes searched hers for something but she couldn't tell what. She chanted 'fuck off' in her head, hoping that he could see the sentiment reflected in her eyes.
How odd, looking at them now, they weren't identical at all. While Fred seemed to operate as their crazy motor, George was something else…steering wheel maybe? Regardless, she was glad their exchange was coming to an end.
"What would you suggest then?" George inquired with a sneer, standing up to follow his brother out the door. "Since you're so smart."
As if she'd help them.
George loomed over her, blocking her view of anything else. She stared up at him defiantly, not letting his size intimidate her. The question lingered in the thick air between them, ringing in her ears over and over. Surprisingly, she did indeed have an answer to his inquiry, not that she was going to say anything. They didn't deserve her help, even if she could mask it as superiority. She waited for him to leave but he seemed just as content sitting in their tension as she was.
He smirked and that threw her over the edge.
Besting him in his expertise would be a satisfying final nail in the coffin and he'd asked for it. She didn't mind him this way, begging her to intellectually best him.
"Potions," she blurted.
She watched his eyes widen. "What?"
"Potions," she repeated wearily. "If you had used Swelling Solution, it wouldn't have been detectable by a revealing charm and no one would take the time to brew its antidote. Victims would be stuck with a fat tongue until the effects wore off, which, apparently, is funny."
It had meant to sound smug but it came out too much like she was tutoring him in earnest. He looked just as surprised at her tone as she was and stood up a little straighter, before reaching for the door. She glanced down at her hands, aware of his eyes still on her, and cursed the sincerity in her voice, hoping he wouldn't take it seriously or respond.
Thankfully, the door clicked shut and his footsteps disappeared down the hall, without another word. She sighed in relief and stuffed the book back into her bag to finally go find Sadie.
Violet shook the strange interaction with the Weasleys from her head and pushed through, packed train car, after packed train car before reaching the self-anointed 'Slytherin Only' door. Out of all the options on the train, her house had managed to claim the worst one. The tables and benches were much more uncomfortable than the stuffy cabins and the openness of the room made every ride a free-for-all.
The window fogged from her breath for a moment but through the sea of green, black, and silver, she could just make out the short, dark-haired girl she'd been looking for.
She wove through the room, focusing on Sadie's scowling face, at the back table. She followed the witch's death glare to a gaggle of girls surrounding Draco Malfoy across the room, holding up some Quidditch pamphlet that was somehow making them squeal. She pushed through a group of large boys lurking around a few older sixth years and successfully made it the length of the train without anyone trying to speak with her, or leer something hurtful, which was prone to happen.
"I was beginning to wonder if you even got on," Sadie said.
"Please, hold your applause," she responded, thankful to hear her friend's voice after months apart.
Sadie smirked knowingly. "Did you yak?"
Violet sat on the bench across from her. "Nope. Almost threw myself out of the window near Manchester though, when the Weasley twins raided my compartment."
She thought about recounting the entirety of the strange interaction but decided against it, as Sadie already seemed perturbed enough.
"Merlin, those spazzy gits never take a day off. We haven't even started the school year yet," she murmured. "Please tell me you unleashed your wrath on them."
Before she could answer, a chorus of ooh's and ahh's erupted from the show going on at the front table.
"Oi get a room or shut the hell up," Sadie yelled, earning her more than a few dirty looks around the room and an especially sour sneer from Malfoy himself.
"Shove off, Baldock," Malfoy sneered.
Normally, Violet would've laughed but she didn't particularly feel like drawing attention to herself today so she turned to avoid his gaze.
"I swear, those girls should be over that albino twat by now," she scowled, staring daggers into Malfoy's back.
"Not everyone has your refined taste Sades."
Her friend fell silent, gazing towards the blond boy dreamily. "Vi, do you think I could kill him? Snap him like a twig or something?"
She laughed and turned slightly, ensuring that Malfoy's ominous gaze was off of them. "Surely he deserves a more painful death than that."
She shifted in her seat to rest the side of her face against the window and smiled at Sadie's hearty, murderous cackle. The cool glass quelled any queasiness left as she watched the sunset over Scotland, signaling that the ride was almost over. Despite her surroundings and previous disposition, it was quite beautiful.
As she has suspected, Sadie recounted the first couple hours of the ride with impeccable detail. Pansy Parkinson had gotten an unfortunate haircut, Theodore Knott had gotten hotter over the summer, and Malfoy wouldn't shut up about the Quidditch World Cup.
Her mind snapped to the dark mark once again. Of course, the Malfoy's had been in attendance.
"He was there?" she whispered across the table.
"Of course he was. As if his family would miss an opportunity to show off to the whole world," Sadie said rolling her eyes.
"What did he say about it?"
"Just the usual. Father this, ministers box that. Gloating twat."
"Did he say anything about the ending…about the Dark Mark?"
Violet's ears rang.
A forgotten picture she'd stumbled upon in her father's abandoned school photo album flashed in her mind once more. Lucious Malfoy swinging his arm around her uncle, clad in Slytherin robes, a year before the war started. Their smiling faces were unburdened from what was yet to come.
The same Lucious Malfoy who was charged with being a Death Eater, but ultimately exonerated.
Sadie shrugged. "Just that he saw Potter running scared like a little girl," she said plainly before launching into the details of her summer. It was the same every year; she fought with her sisters and mother all summer long, and then cried like a baby while saying goodbye to them on the platform.
Violet attempted to tune her out and glanced at the cruel blonde.
This was the closest she'd been to him in nearly two years. Ever since Lucious had recognized her father on the platform, she'd taken every precaution to dodge him in every meal, class, or school event, in order to avoid the things that he knew about her.
The image of both Malfoy's smiles twitching smugly as Lucious recanted the Wilkes family history to his monstrous son on the train platform flashed in her mind. Her father had ushered the family away, uncaring of the secrets that would follow her to school and unwilling to speak about it.
She knew he knew, and even though he had every opportunity to tell the whole school, he didn't. Or rather, hadn't yet, like she knew he would someday. She could tell that he was waiting for the most opportune time by the way he said half-blood, and blood traitor instead of her name and the way his eyes were always just a little too confident when regarding her. The anticipation and fear seemed to be torture enough, for him. Surely though, it was only a matter of time.
His presence suddenly became too much. The thought of sharing a room with someone so amused by the ridicule of anyone who wasn't of pure-blood made the taste of bile claw up her throat.
"Sades," she interrupted her friend who was still animatedly speaking. "Wanna head back to mine and change?"
The dark-haired witch nodded and chattered on.
She led them both back down the train, breathing freely again among less threatening red, blue, and yellow students. She was relieved to have Sadie rambling at her side, yelling at first years in their way, and shoving leering seventh-year boys back into the cabins.
They finally reached the last car, and suddenly, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. A tall redhead was leaning against the wall outside of her cabin. He was staring down at his shoes and muttering something. She couldn't tell which one it was from this angle but had a hunch.
Two times in one day? She must be cursed.
Her stomach tangled itself once more with nerves. Maybe he'd come back to enact some cruel revenge on her, for thwarting his prank. She gripped Sadies hand a little tighter, thankful to have her as a backup if things went south. The sound of her footsteps made him finally lookup. She wasn't expecting the expressionless look on his face, and suddenly she doubted that he wanted to harm her at all.
Sadie saw him not a second later and pushed past her, letting go of her hand and yelling, "Bothering her once wasn't enough, you back for more Weasley?"
George's calm face suddenly contorted into panic as Sadie shoved past him and into the cabin. Violet didn't move, and stared at him from a few paces away, unsure of what he was doing if not pranking her.
She hadn't noticed his height earlier when they were sitting, but now that she stood in front of him, it was a shock to be eye level with his chest. Concealing her nervousness to the best of her ability, she met his eyes.
"What?" She said deadpan, hoping to convey his unwelcomeness as much as Sadie had.
He furrowed his brow and looked down at the ground for a moment, failing to hide a flustered blush.
"Sorry…erm — I thought I forgot something —talk to you later," he mumbled through a forced smile. The sudden change in demeanor was surprising. His attempt at confidence was oddly manufactured and she saw, for the first time, a glimmer of shyness.
Git. He probably needed his brother for backup.
Before she could say anything, he brushed past her and sped down the hall and out the door.
"What the bloody hell was that," Sadie said, scrunching her nose in annoyance. "Freaks, the lot of them."
Violet's stomach detangled itself and she turned to watch the floppy long hair retreat from view. She nodded in agreement but kept her mouth closed.
#george weasley x original female character#george weasley#george weasley fanfic#george weasley fanfiction#george weasley smut#dating george weasley
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J/C, C/7, and Me
Disclaimer: I am not necessarily a J/C shipper. I just have eyeballs and enjoy the show. Long ass post.
In the Beginning
Was a Janeway/Chakotay romantic plot baked in? I tend to think not. At least not at the very start. But this is pure speculation on my part.
If romance is your goal, then it’s much more interesting to have Chakotay not immediately being 100% supportive. (An AU where they never get lost and it’s just Janeway pursuing this Maquis leader and maybe eventually being persuaded and helping him, please.)
I think initially they were flirting with the idea of Janeway/Paris. The character of Tom was described as being a potential love interest for Janeway. That idea doesn’t seem to have made it past the character sketches, but you can see a trace element of it in the very beginning.
The writers played with a number of character combinations. A pretty natural chemistry was cropping up between Captain and First Officer. Little things were dropped into scripts. Performances certainly came across as interested, whether intended or not, who knows.
Ramping Up
Where before there were hints and moments, Resolutions kicks off a series of flashing red sirens.
From this episode on there would be declarations of... ‘you bring me true peace’, and ‘I’m frickin jealous, okay?’ and bawling declarations of ‘you can’t die!’ These developments are not in the shipper’s imagination. They’re building toward something. Clearly. Obviously. Said all the people with eyes.
For the first couple seasons, Janeway being engaged kind of kept this at bay. But now they’re fully playing with it.
Road Block
However, Kate Mulgrew (and maybe others, I dunno) was like, ‘sure. develop the relationship. but no sex. the first female captain isn’t going to be having booty calls in the ready room. not gonna happen. people are going to take this captain seriously.’
So they played with it here and there, but it could only go so far. Kate seemed to want the best of both worlds. A deep, complicated, growing relationship, that never tipped over into the sexual. Her focus was on getting the crew home.
Beltran flat out says (in one of the books I own that I don’t feel like digging out) that Chakotay was in love with her. But Beltran was getting frustrated. When Year of Hell came around, he apparently called up the writers and said, ‘how long is this guy gonna keep throwing himself at a woman who never reciprocates? it’s getting pathetic. either do something with these two or don’t.’
Loner Janeway
Along the way, I think Kate became enamored with the idea of the loneliness of command, the sacrifices it entails. Fell in love with the poignancy of it all.
This is not something that’s out of character for Janeway. Beyond the fact that in the beginning she was engaged, pairing off was a luxury she didn’t think the captain had. So any kind of romantic relationship she might pursue would have to start with her being broken out of that mindset.
That’s basically what Resolutions did. Once they finally pried Voyager out of her fingers, you could see a burgeoning love very clearly. But then Voyager came back. And with it her... resolutions.
Coulda Woulda Shoulda
If they had wanted to snip it and move on, they should have had that conflict between Janeway and Chakotay at some point. Perhaps after Beltran called them up and said, ‘hey. Make up your minds.’
Have the characters actually talk about it and reach a conclusion and there ya go. But maybe the writers just didn’t know wtf they wanted to do with it and wanted to leave their options open. And then did nothing at all.
Me, a Non-Shipper
Personally, I tend to agree with the Mulgrew side of things (and can also see why Beltran would be bored with the eternal holding pattern and not mind when they said ‘hey, you can kiss Jeri Ryan.’)
They developed the Tom/B’Elanna romance, which was great. We didn’t need non-stop romantic plots. I think the shippers could understand Kate’s reasoning and were willing to go with the slow burn...if the writers had actually sat down and decided that’s what they were doing. If only they hadn’t dropped the ball at the very end.
Here’s the thing: if you build up a relationship like that, you can’t be upset when people notice. And you can’t give up on it behind the scenes without telling the audience on screen. ‘There are some lines we never cross’ might have been an attempt, but was too late. And was certainly not closure. The audience deserved better.
C/7? WTF!?
Well, if you thought there was no build up for it, it’s because there wasn’t. If you felt like it was whirlwind and came out of nowhere, it’s because it was, and it did. Apparently even in the writer’s room.
Brannon Braga wanted Seven to die in the finale. He was writing her episodes to gear up for that. Human Error, the episode where Seven experiments with romantic ideas with a holographic Chakotay (with a kiss that was apparently the result of a dare Beltran made to Jeri), was written with Seven’s death in mind. It wasn’t supposed to be the opening salvo of an actual relationship.
I think Seven of Nine should have bit the dust. I think there had to be a real sacrifice for this crew getting home, a real blood sacrifice. Seven of Nine was, for me, designed to be a character that was gonna die tragically. I planned that.... There’s an episode called Human Error that I wrote...she's trying to feel emotions. She actually succeeds and then almost dies. She learns there’s a Borg implant, that if she becomes too human, it will kill her. And it was that moment in my mind that would set up the finale, where she realized she can’t live here, she can’t live there. And she dies getting her family home. - Brannon Braga
I’m glad they didn’t go that way for various reasons. I love Endgame as it is. But it’s interesting to know the thought process. They weren’t gearing up for romance, they were aiming for tragedy. At least Braga was.
Human Error was only about six episodes from the end. At the time of that writing, that's what was in at least his head.
Human Error was not written with an eye toward a C/7 future. Without that episode I doubt highly C/7 would have been a thing. And it wasn’t even written to make it a thing.
Endgame obviously didn't go that way. Janeway-palooza instead. So. What do we do now? What to do with Seven? And from here on, all I have is speculation.
Retooling
'Well, we've got this holodeck scenario from the episode we wrote when we were planning to kill her off that hints that she might like Chakotay. So. I guess we'll go with that.'
It appears to me that they retooled recently written story elements to fit their ending, to provide more motivation for that ending.
They picked the three people it would kill Janeway most to lose. Tuvok, obviously. An ongoing torment, visiting him every week. Seven dies (a remnant of plan A) and in a sense takes Chakotay with her.
This is all fuel for Admiral Janeway without making it about saving her lover (unless you’re a J/7 shipper, in which case, hog heaven).
When you think of it only in terms of ‘what can we do to make the finale work’, it’s not terrible. When you think of it in terms of seven preceding years, it doesn’t work at all. They got myopic.
In hindsight I think the writers could probably admit it was a mistake in terms of the show, and they should have resisted the urge to do something that was thrown together and jarring rather than nothing at all with Seven.
Gossip
Apparently neither Mulgrew or Beltran were opposed to C7 in the end. Maybe because they had at points been a bit frustrated with each other behind the scenes. Whether those frustrations were forefront in anyone’s mind at the time, idk.
I tend to think Kate really was over the idea of Janeway’s destiny having much to do with romance at all.
It is interesting that when Seven first arrived on the show, Kate specifically mentioned not wanting the writers to throw her with Chakotay. At that point perhaps feeling a tad possessive. Perhaps didn’t want him ‘sullied’ by the busty blonde.
But this was seasons in the past by the time the finale rolled around, and I doubt highly it had anything to do with anything. Who knows.
Me on Endgame
Personally, I'm glad Endgame was a Janeway palooza. I love 99% of Endgame. I’m glad it was about Janeway vs.Janeway vs. Borg Queen. I wouldn’t have wanted it to be about J/C either.
But if you’re not willing to go there, leave it then to the imagination. It's cruel to basically tell your audience that these two would be together if not for their delta quadrant circumstances, and then rip the rug from under them the second they get to the quadrant where this romance is supposed to be possible. Not cool, man. Not cool.
When I first saw Endgame (as a non-shipper with eyes) C/7 was jarring and weird. But I thought the scene where Seven was distancing herself was well acted and stirred up an emotion or two (even if it was a little histrionic, considering they'd just started dating). So I wasn’t throwing things at my television. Just confused.
I also basically dismissed their future relationship. They got home after like one date, not ten years of marriage. And now their lives will completely change. So I just kind of hand-waved it away. "It did its job for the episode, but the future's changed and they won't last. So whatever."
Headanons on Janeway’s romantic reasoning and original timeline reaction to C/7
Captain Janeway had no idea how long it would take to get back home. Obviously you hope for tomorrow, but it could be twenty years from now. She resigned herself to not pursue romance. Her sole purpose in life was to get the crew safely home.
So I speculate her reaction to C/7 would be quite stoic. She would recognize it’s not fair for him to just pine away, possibly forever. That she has made this choice and he shouldn't have to be alone because of it. Her being alone is just part of the price she must pay, the burden she must bear. Her own wants and needs must take a backseat. She has greater responsibilities.
In fact, I can see her encouraging C/7. She would see it as a form of selfless love. ‘It doesn’t matter that he’s with me; it matters that he’s happy.’ Of course feelings would rear their heads from time to time, but she would quickly corral them into that channel.
Lots of lovely internal martyrdom. She would make it her mission to make sure they were both okay and happy. A bit of a masochistic streak that she buries under a sense of nobility and sacrifice.
This is the kind of angle I think Mulgrew came to prefer. That lovely little tragic pang. She loves drama, if nothing else.
“It’s a lonely thing, but I’m gonna get this crew home.” - Kate Mulgrew
“You always made it hard for yourself. If there was a rocky path and a smooth one, you chose the rocky one every time.” - Coda
This is a woman with a lot of love to give. But finds herself, or perhaps unnecessarily forces herself, depending on your view, in a place where that’s not a possible life choice. So those instincts expand outward, enveloping them all. She finds fulfillment in the well-being of the crew and the ship as a whole.
Post Endgame
Their trip was shortened by a lot because of Endgame. The future is no longer written in stone. So the possibilities are endless, the sky’s the limit. And apparently Seven’s a lesbian (I haven’t seen it, but I hear tell). So. There ya go.
(She is crying here, btw. I never noticed before I did that episode and feel the need to point it out once again. Lest anyone else still not have noticed.)
If you actually read this whole thing, congratulations. Hopefully it made sense. I now continue with my rewatch and probably won’t talk much about this in the future. Unless something new comes up, I’ll just continue to be a non-shipper with eyeballs, enjoying whatever’s around.
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