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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years ago

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With Me, Always. (Oneshot)

Rhysand x Reader

Hiiii. I've had many requests about writing for Rhys - and while I am gradually working on the more detailed ones, and working on my Lucien series, I thought I'd post this sweet lil oneshot I wrote.

Warnings: None. It's just angst and fluff.

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The Windhaven Camp was ready for the Winter Solstice.

As much as such a soulless place could be ready for the celebration, anyway. There was something darkly poetic about garlands and wreaths and sprigs of holly and ivy being hung on buildings that you knew housed awful people. Awful things.

Only three days left to go. If nothing else, the males were in decidedly brighter spirits — meaning there weren’t quite so many sneers, as usual, while you strolled through the camp. It had become a hive of even more activity than normal, with people flying family members in for the celebrations, and the few shops and businesses there were staying open later and later to accommodate last-minute gift buying.

If nothing else, the hectic atmosphere meant that none of the males seemed to glimpse you and your friend, Ivanna, sneaking further into the hills and mountain range for your clandestine work-out sessions.

“You’d think,” Ivanna panted, stopping to lean against a tree, “that considering we’ve grown up here and never left the damn place, we’d be a bit more used to the cold.”

You snorted, tipping your head back and heaving your heavy breaths skywards. Indeed, it seemed the air was teasing a snowstorm — your wings could feel it; a freezing caress that made you long for the roaring fire of Ivanna’s small home. Your small home.

It was almost two years, now, that you’d been living with Ivanna and her father above his shop — a courtesy he’d hesitantly agreed to, only because your own late father had been a friend of his. But as an Illyrian female with no family left — and sparse assets left behind by your father — your best option had been taking refuge in your closest friend’s home. Shacking up with the only three Illyrian males you were friends with — Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel — would have raised too many eyebrows. And so her father had reluctantly taken you in.

Your gratitude for that generosity was about as far as any pleasantries with him went; one look at the ruined remains of her clipped wings was reminder enough of what a bastard he was. Unlike your own father, who had been a very rare breed of Illyrian male — a kind one.

“Shall we walk back,” You said once you’d caught your breath, “or should I fly us?”

“Ugh. Fly.” Ivanna grimaced. “I don’t feel like having frostbite for Solstice. Speaking of which — what have you bought me?”

You rolled your eyes, your lips twitching as you scooped her up into your arms. “Stop asking. I’m not telling you what I’ve bought you.”

“Rude.” She didn’t even jolt as you launched into the skies, your wings beating against the wind. “I have another question.”

“Of course you do.”

A flash of a wicked grin. “Have you heard from Rhysand?”

The humour eddied from you, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. The subject was a sore one — one you tried not to broach, if you could help it.

“Since the last time you asked that very question?” You shrugged tersely. “You know I haven’t.”

No, you hadn’t seen Rhys, or heard from him, for months and months, now. The male, who had once been the only light you had in this dark place, seemed to have forgotten your entire existence since becoming High Lord. It was…lonely. Painful. You knew how busy he must be — and grieving the loss of his mother and sister, too. But he’d never shut you out before, never pushed you away. That he’d not even been back to visit, to say hello…it hurt. And the best you could do was pretend that it didn’t.

Ivanna offered you a gentle squeeze as you swooped down into the camp, landing on the path that cut through the training rings. They were mostly empty, with most males having already started their Solstice break, but your stomach plummeted a bit as two dark, towering figures turned into your path.

Edric and Cenric were two males — twins — who you’d had the displeasure of growing up around. Illyrian brutes through and through, they got off on the torment of females — the torment of you and Ivanna, in particular. It had died down a little when you’d become close to Rhys, Cassian and Azriel — but with them so absent these days, it had ratcheted right back up.

“There you both are.” The one on the left — Edric — smirked. “There’s been a spillage in one of the tents. Ale all over the place.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging Ivanna past them. “Guess you’d better find yourselves a mop and bucket, then.”

The twins were quick to dart into your path. It was Cenric who folded his arms, puffing his chest out. “That’s your job. All you females are good for.”

Your head fell into a tilt. “Is that why you opt for rutting against a pillow instead of finding an actual, living being to stick that poor excuse of a cock into? I suppose that vile mouth doesn’t win many females over.”

Both twins’ eyes flashed with rage, with challenge. Edric stepped towards you, his towering height and flared wings seeming to swallow up the lingering daylight.

“Go mop up the mess,” He hissed through gritted teeth, “before I shove you to the floor and make you lick it up.”

You opened your mouth to retort — and promptly snapped it shut at another flash of darkness. Like a cloud of pure midnight pluming behind the twins, the empty path was suddenly shrouded in a mass of smoky black that cleaved in two.

As Rhysand appeared.

“Hello, you two.” The High Lord greeted the twins, his smirk mocking. “How lovely to see you both.”

The two males had the good sense to back down — even if they did so reluctantly. But with Rhys so newly in power, a whole host of adjustments was rippling through the camp. Nobody wanted to get on the High Lord’s bad side — having not quite discerned, yet, what kind of High Lord he was going to be — lest he remember it for years to come.

So both twins dipped their heads and ground out, “High Lord” in unison.

“I see the two of you are still your delightful selves.” Rhys studied them. “Do me a favour, boys — fuck off.”

There was absolutely no hesitation as the twins dipped past the High Lord, not sparing a glance back. Not until Rhys called out to them once more.

“Find a camp mother and ask for a mop and bucket.” He ordered. “Clean your filthy mess up yourselves.”

Edric seemed to pause; seemed to contemplate barking back at him. But it was Cenric who had the sense to pull him away. They quickly disappeared out of sight, their bickering fading with them.

And then Rhys turned back to you. The smirk softly moulded into a smile. “Hello, you.”

Both you and Ivanna bowed your heads. It felt weird — saying the words. “High Lord.”

Rhys snorted. “What’s with the formalities?”

Ivanna relaxed beside you, lifting her chin. But you…you kept your gaze on the ground; didn’t think you could bear looking at him for too long. It would bring too many things to the surface.

Namely, that one, single night of passion you’d shared with him before things had changed so fast, and he was suddenly High Lord of the Night Court. That very night liked to remind you of itself every day. And even more thoroughly, now, with the person in front of you who shared that memory. You begged — begged — your cheeks not to heat beneath his intense gaze.

“How are you, Ivanna?” Rhys politely regarded your friend. “You’re looking well.”

Ivanna inclined her chin. “As are you, High Lord. I’m very well, thank you.”

“Glad to hear it.” His eyes slid to you again. You could practically feel them coaxing you, begging you to look up.

Ivanna cleared her throat. “I actually just remembered — I have to do some stuff. And things.”

That had you looking up — quickly, abruptly, pleading with Ivanna not to leave you alone with him. But she was already clapping you on the shoulder and striding ahead.

“Enjoy your stuff and things.” You shouted after her, huffing.

A middle finger was her only answer.

In front of you, Rhys chuckled. “I forgot how much you two bicker.”

You flicked your gaze to his. Just momentarily — just enough to convey that you didn’t feel like standing and talking.

“Mm.” You murmured, brushing past him. “I suppose it’s easy to forget such things when you never come around anymore.”

You’d barely taken a step forward before he was jumping into your path. Gently grabbing your hand. The warmth of his thick glove was pleasant against your bare, frozen fingers.

“Wait.” He said. “I—how are you?”

“Oh, I’m great, Rhys, thanks so much for asking.”

“…I’m sensing some anger.”

You pulled your hand away. Used it to pinch the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. “What brings you to Windhaven, Rhysand?”

“Well, it’s common courtesy for the High Lord to deliver well wishes at Solstice—”

You scoffed, launching into a walk once more. But Rhys was quicker, darting right back into your way.

“And I wanted to see you.” He said. “Please—let’s just go inside and talk.”

You stared at him. So many things you wanted to say. So many ways he’d made you feel. And yet you hated that very fact. That it had become unavoidably clear, and there was no escaping it.

You loved him. You were in love with him.

“Come on.” He said, his eyes flickering your shivering form. “At least come and warm up.”

The cold was beginning to become painful, your wings aching with the chill. You could ignore Rhys, go straight back to Ivanna’s house, but…you had a feeling she’d turn you away. Tell you to hear him out.

So you nodded — folded your arms, just so he couldn’t grab your hand again. “Fine. Lead the way.”

You didn’t know where he planned to take you. His mother’s cottage was the most logical place, but…maybe it was too soon, too raw—

“The fire’s already burning in my mother’s place.” He said, as though he’d read your thoughts. “Where are your gloves?”

Your eyes stayed pinned forward as you strolled beside him. “I forgot them today.”

Within seconds, he was pulling the thick gloves from his hands. “Here.”

“We’re almost at the cottage—”

“Put them on or I’ll do it for you.”

You scowled, snatching the gloves away and shoving them on. Their size wolfed your hands, but their pleasant warmth was such a relief, you almost moaned.

Rhys had always been a mother hen. Always behaved like this around you. Even when he was at his limit, stressed beyond comprehension, he’d looked after you.

And then it had all just…stopped. You’d tried to be understanding. Tried to have compassion for the fact that he’d become High Lord very suddenly, much sooner than he’d anticipated. That he was grieving on top of that. And if he’d needed space, you would have happily given it to him…

But to not even just…send a quick word, to tell you he was alright. To know that you were stuck in this awful place, worrying about him, thinking about him…

He probably didn’t even realise how much it hurt. How much you missed your friendship above all else.

His mother’s cottage loomed, sad and empty looking. It had squeezed your heart every time you passed it, to think of the female that had been so kind to you over the years, just — gone. The friend you’d once found in Rhys’s sister, a young girl of such potential — gone.

And then Rhys, just — gone.

He opened the front door, stepping aside to allow you to enter first. Indeed, the fire was roaring heat into the room, and you hurried towards it embarrassingly fast, your hands outstretched to its warmth.

Rhys chuckled softly, shutting the door behind him. “There’s a snowstorm coming. I can feel it in the air.”

You merely nodded — knew full well that he hadn’t brought you here to talk about the weather. As you leaned against the mantelpiece, embracing the power of the flames before you, you allowed your eyes to wander the small room.

It was just as it was when you were last here, months and months ago, now. You’d lost count of how many. The cramped area was crammed full with the echoes of the past, memories from long ago, and…some—some more recent.

Your eyes shot to the worn, shabby couch — your mind darting straight to the last night you’d been here. The night that, after so many years of close friendship, of subtle touches and glances, of meaningless flirting…one thing had finally led to another. You couldn’t remember what conversation, exactly, had led to you and Rhys kissing. How, exactly, you’d ended up on your knees before him, his rough groans filling the cottage as you’d sucked and licked him and brought him to a roaring release.

He’d had to leave for business the next morning. Within days…everything had changed.

Rhys was staring at that exact spot on the sofa, too. Probably reliving that night just as colourfully.

You felt a little petty as you bit out, “Have you brought me here to suck your cock again?”

His eyes flickered to yours, the swimming violet softening. “Of course not. Is that what you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t really know what to think anymore, Rhys. It’s not like you’ve given me anything to go on.”

His eyes shuttered. Slowly, he moved to the rolled arm of the couch, perching atop it. No wings in sight, now.

“First and foremost,” He said. “I just want to know how you are.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Your eyes glazed over as you forced them to stay on one, insignificant rip in the sofa. Anything to avoid meeting those eyes.

“Why?” You asked flatly.

“Because I know you.” Rhys shrugged. “I know when you’re not fine. Not to mention the fact that you can’t even look at me.”

Your hands tightened into fists. You hated how right he was — that he did know you. That he probably knew every thought currently swimming through your head. That he probably wouldn’t stop pushing until you spilled the truth.

You were mentally willing yourself not to cry as you forced your gaze to him and shrugged weakly. “Alright.” You relented. “I’m not fine. I cannot possibly be fine when I miss you, and I think about you every damn day, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“…Y/N—”

“And believe me, Rhys, I know you’ve had a lot to contend with. A lot on your shoulders. And if you need to deal with that stuff on your own, that’s fine…but I’m so fucking scared that you pushed me away because of what happened between us that night. Because you didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, and it might have damaged our friendship beyond repair. I cannot bear that thought because all I care about is having you in my life, even if you can never love me the way—”

You cut yourself off — blinked out of your thoughts, stunned by how freely you’d allowed your words to run. Your cheeks heated as you quickly wiped the tears forming in your eyes. But you knew it was too late — that you’d said too much.

Rhys stared at you. “The way what?”

You closed your eyes, tears spilling over. “Even if you can never love me the way I…the way I love you. I don’t care, Rhys — I just want you back in my life. That’s all that matters to me—”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers, and you put me in my place for being a prick.”

You stopped, your eyes flying open. You went so, so still.

“I fell in love with you that day.” He stared back at you seriously — vulnerably. “And I have only fallen for you harder and harder every day since. I have been utterly consumed by you since we were eighteen years old. And I love it. I love you.”

“…what…” You breathed. “I…why did you push me away?”

He shook his head. Swallowed, hard. “Everything happened so damn fast. My mother, my sister…becoming High Lord. With my father dying, I knew there would be unrest…dissenters, people who held grudges against my father and would use me as a scapegoat to exact revenge. I needed to be in Velaris…to protect my people. And I wanted to come back, to see you, but…” He released a slow, heavy breath. “The target that has always been on my back is even bigger, now. Tamlin’s family killed the people closest to me. And if people knew what you meant to me…if they knew that I love you…I would be putting a target on your back as well. And that isn’t fair.”

Another tear rolled down your cheek. All these months of wondering…of thinking you’d fucked things up completely. You hadn’t even considered that Rhys was trying to protect you.

“It is for me to decide, Rhysand,” You said quietly, wiping your cheeks, “if I can live with a target on my back. That choice is mine.”

“I know that.” He whispered. “Believe me, I know. But I just…if I lost you too…”

You pushed away from the mantelpiece. Stalked over to him, until you were stood mere inches from him, your legs touching.

“Isn’t it better to take that risk…to live,” You said, “than this alternative? Than us being away from each other? I’m miserable without you.”

“As I am without you.” He met your gaze. “And that is why I came today. Because I can’t take it anymore. I love you, and I want you with me. I want you to come to Velaris.”

You blinked at him — balked. You’d never even been anywhere outside of Windhaven, never dared to push those limits and face potential consequences.

“I…” You stared into those violet eyes, stunned. “…this is my home…”

“In the loosest definition, yes.” Rhys slowly reached out a hand. Slowly brushed his fingers against yours. “But you don’t even have a home of your own here. You don’t have anything of your own here. You should be living, Y/N. Ivanna, too.”

If you were honest…Ivanna was the only thing keeping you there. The thought of leaving her behind, alone with the males…you couldn’t bear it.

But if she could come to Velaris, too. If you could have both Ivanna and Rhys…a life…

You frowned. “What would I do there?”

Rhys shrugged, properly grabbing your hand. “Whatever you want to do. I could find you a position in the court, or…or something, anything else. As long as you're happy. As long as I get to have you with me. Always.”

You studied him. The wonderful, selfless male before you — who you loved so, so intensely. You should have known, all this time, that he’d only pushed you away to protect you. That Rhys would never have left you without reason.

The relief almost had you succumbing to tears all over again.

“Take some time to think it over.” He lifted his other hand to your cheek, his thumb grazing beneath your eye. “No pressure. Just…promise me you’ll put yourself first.”

You snorted, wiping your eyes. “Says the male who puts literally everybody before himself.”

He smirked softly. “Guilty. But I’m always going to do that. Because I love you.”

Your heart guttered. Words you’d wanted to hear for so many years…they didn’t seem real, now.

You swallowed down another onslaught of emotion. “You really mean it?”

“More than I’ve ever meant anything.”

You swallowed. And before you could allow your tears to grip you again, you leaned forward. Pressed your lips against his.

The kiss was…sweet. Not the hungry, passionate kisses you’d shared that one night all those months ago. But a tender kiss that spoke of promise, of a future, of love.

Rhys kissed you back, deeply and slowly, tangling his fingers within your hair. He tugged you closer, slotting you between his legs.

And only when you were both gasping for breath, your chests heaving, did he pull back. Pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you.” He breathed, his eyes boring into yours.

You pecked him — once, twice. “I love you, too.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He smirked. “And not only do I love you, but I believe I owe you.”

“…oh?”

“Hmm. If I remember correctly, the last time we were in this cottage, you had your head between my legs. It seems only fair that I return the favour.”

You felt heat pool inside you. Felt your toes curl in your boots. And you knew, from the way Rhys’s nostrils flared, his pupils dilating, that he immediately noticed the change in your scent.

“You’d better return that favour, then.” You bit down on your lip. “It is Solstice, after all.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

He grasped the back of your head, pulling your face back to his. And every part of you sang and shattered beautifully as he laid you down on the sofa.

And fell to his knees before you.

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padfootagain · 4 years ago

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The Adviser

Hey! I'm writing this little fic for @musicallisto's event! I'm using her prompts 4 and 29 for Caspian :

4. “Can you stay with me?”

29.“Their hands on your skin…”

I'm also including a bit of the drunken confessions trope for this one!

I hope you all like it, tell me what you think about it, and thank you again Clara for hosting this event! This is just pure fluff, you know me, it's soft hours time!!!! We love cute clichés here!

Pairing : Caspian x reader

Word Count: 3597 (I've proofread but I've been writing for four hours and my brain is fried, I am so sorry if there are more mistakes than usual, forgiiiiiive meeeeee!!!)

You shouldn't have been drinking like this. Deep down, you knew it was a mistake. But what choice did you have? It was the only way to forget what this princess what doing at that moment.

Her hand was on Caspian's arm, and you didn't fail to notice the way her fingers slipped down the length of his velvet sleeve to brush against the skin of his wrist. You took another large gulp of liquor, but the image was already printed all over your eyelids when you closed your eyes and tried to blink the sight away.

It was more than you could stand. So much more than what you were humanly able to stomach. And the worst part of it all, really, was that none of this was Caspian's fault. He didn't even know about how you felt for him, so how could he have guessed that him letting her touch him like this, being so close to him, were hurting so.

But it did hurt. God, it hurt so bad.

The room was full of noises and conversations. You were celebrating the signing of a new commercial agreement between Narnia and their neighbours. It was exciting, and all the politicians that had been involved in the elaboration of the treaty and its negotiations were now enjoying a much-deserved celebration. The treaty had been signed earlier in the afternoon, and hopefully it was the first step towards a friendship between the two nations.

And you should have been celebrating as well, because after all, this treaty was your baby. You had written parts of it, you had worked for months to convince lords that this treaty was a good thing. You had worked and worked relentlessly for so long on this project. It was your baby, in a way.

When you had begun this adventure, you had envisioned yourself in the position you were finally in now. With a signed treaty resting on the king's desk in his study, and surrounded by lords, princesses and other important political figures, drinking wine and eating pastries and laughing as the future seemed a little brighter than it was before.

What you had never imagined though, was that during the months you had spent working closely with the King of Narnia, you would fall madly, desperately, hopelessly in love with him.

You wanted to slap some sense into your own head for falling for him the way you had, but it would be useless. There was nothing you could have done to avoid it. And every time you looked at him, you were reminded of this cruel truth. Nothing could have prevented you from falling in love with the king, not even yourself, not even him. Nothing, no one, could save you now.

Sometimes, it was driving you mad, really. The way he was so kind, and a little shy around you. You forgot that he was even a king, then. He had a way to make you feel safe by simply smiling at you. There was something in the way he walked, in the way he held himself, that would have betrayed his rank if he had tried to hide it. He was so… inspiring, in a way. More than that, he was magnetic. When he walked into a room, it was clear who he was. A mere glimpse at him, and even if one had no idea what the King of Narnia looked like, they would have recognized him. But then he would blush in the most precious way when complimented, bending his head as if to hide his reaction, and there was so much hesitation in his polite smiles, as if he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Maybe it was that contrast that had make your heart melt. The way he was the most charismatic man when you saw him, and the kindest when you talked to him.

Yes, yes, that was it. Or at least, part of it. Maybe it was the starting point of it all. Then, every single detail that made him unique had sealed the deal, and your heart was his, for good.

At the end of the day, though, no matter how much you loved him and how friendly and kind he was to you, he was still the King, and you were merely a representative. There was nothing special about your ancestry, even if your position now was quite high in the government. But you were one of the King's advisors, that was all, and every time you looked at one of these princesses throwing all their charms and manners at Caspian, you really couldn't hold it against him to fall for them and not you.

If he had known these inner thoughts of yours, he would have been adamant at contradicting you, at telling you that you were just as special as they were. But he was busy talking to one of them, and you were busy drinking. It ought to be the way things were meant to be, right?

After a couple more glasses of wine, your head was starting to spin and Caspian seemed to finally notice that something was off with you. He frowned hard as he saw you reaching for the nearest wall to keep your balance, while you lifted your glass to your lips again. You finished all the alcohol in one gulp. It wasn't like you though, to drink like this…

At first, he thought maybe you were simply letting loose more than usual in celebration for the treaty, but you didn't seem happy at all. On the contrary, your features were twisted in one of pain. Were you sick? A wave of fear rushed to his heart, crushing the little organ in his chest. He hurried to excuse himself and leave the princess he had been talking to. He was aware it was barely polite, but if you were unwell, he didn't exactly care about the etiquette. In fact, all his thoughts were set upon you and his worry now, he couldn't even realize what he was doing as he crossed the room in just a few long strides, ignoring people in the crowd trying to intercept him as he passed by.

You hadn't noticed him approaching, you had settled your attention on the marble ground, in an attempt to avoid seeing Caspian talk with the flirty princess that had been clinging to him for the past hour. Only when his brown boots appeared on the floor right before you did you notice his presence. You looked up in a jolt, your hair growing with fear and apprehension, while your quick movement made your head spin even more than before.

"Your Majesty," you mumbled, trying to stand a little straighter. "Can I… do anything for you?"

Your words were slurred, obvious sign of your intoxication. Caspian's frown only deepened.

"I was about to ask you the same question, you don't seem to be well," the king answered.

"I… I am perfectly fine," you lied.

"You seem to need a bit of fresh air," Caspian insisted. "Let me accompany you to the gardens."

You didn't have the strength to fight against him or argue in any way. Besides, Caspian was right, you did need a bit of fresh air to clear your mind. So you let him take your arm, assuring your balance, while he guided you outside.

The afternoon was slowly dying out into the early evening. The sun was still quite high in the summer sky, but the heat it released had diminished as the hours passed by. A salty breeze was blowing through the roses in full blossoms and the branches of the tall oaks that offered their shades to the visitors. It was quiet though, most of the inhabitants of the castle being either busy with their daily tasks, or at the reception. It was an easy task for Caspian to find a quiet spot for the two of you to walk by.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, noticing your steps were a little steadier, even if he still kept a careful hold on your arm, just in case.

"I did need a bit of air, indeed. Thank you. I feel better," you nodded.

You tried to give him a smile, but it was harder to hide your feelings when you were drunk. It seemed more like a wince, instead, and Caspian fully turned to you this time, stopping you in your tracks in the middle of the narrow path in between the bushes of roses. He remained silent for a while, the noises of the wind in branches and the bees buzzing in the flowers the only sounds you could hear. And in this quiet place, staring right into the king's dark eyes was even more hypnotizing than usual. You were suddenly very aware that the two of you were alone. And very aware that his hand still rested on your arm too…

"Are you sick? What is wrong?"

Under his insisting tone, you recognized worry. If Caspian had tried to hide it, he had failed miserably.

"I… am quite fine. I think I simply celebrated a little too much…"

"You seemed sad back there," the king shook his head, cutting you off because you could finish your lie. "You did not seem to be celebrating at all. Why? What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess… I must be very tired. The negotiations were difficult and…"

"Why are you lying to me?"

You merely stared at him, not knowing what to answer.

"I know you are lying. I know you. Why will you not tell me what is bothering you?"

"It… is nothing…"

"Is it why you drank too much?"

"I am not drunk…"

"Yes, you are. You can barely stand."

"I can," you replied, even if it wasn't true. You knew that if Caspian suddenly let go of you, you would probably fall down in the roses, and the thought of the many thorns cutting your skin wasn't particularly appealing to you.

Caspian's frown slowly disappeared though. From worry, his expression changed to one of sadness and hurt, but you didn't understand why.

"I am your friend, Y/N. Why will you not tell me? I could help…"

You let out a bitter laugh. The liquor was taking the better of your judgement, for you would have never answered him this way had you been sober.

"My friend? As if we were friends…"

Caspian stared at you with the most puzzled expression you had ever seen adorning his handsome features.

"What do you mean? Of course, we are friends."

"We are not friends. You are the king, and I am… a commoner working for you."

There was so much hurt passing through Caspian's eyes, but you didn't feel guilty. It was true, after all. And the sight of this woman with him… with her eyes all over him, and the way she leaned towards him…

It was more than you could take…

"I thought we were more than just that by now," Caspian answered in a low voice.

"How could we be?"

"Why did you drink so much tonight?"

"Because I cannot take it anymore… I… these feelings I just… I can't fight them…"

"Feelings? What…?"

But then it dawned on him, only, not completely.

Of course, a question of heart would explain your sadness and your drinking tonight, such behaviours that were so out of character for you. He wasn't particularly good at hiding the way his heart broke in his chest at the thought that you loved someone else, though. He had to be thankful for your inebriated state that made you fail to notice his reaction when it was written all over his features.

He opened his mouth to ask who this was about, but you spoke first. The wine was making your mind blurry, your thoughts turning into a whirlwind, bumping into each other and making your usual filters lift. In any other circumstances, you would have never said any of the words you were about to utter, but then, liquor and broken hearts make confessions tumble easily.

"I cannot do this anymore. I want to resign."

"Resign? What…?"

"I cannot handle it. Being around you all the time…" you went on, barely realizing Caspian was trying to speak. "And today seeing her… her hands on your skin and…"

Your voice broke, and you lost your balance for good. Caspian was still here though, and he managed to catch you in his arms right before you would fall to the dusty ground.

His brain was repeating again and again your words, trying to analyse their meanings…

Did it mean that… you… was it about him, then?

"I will take you to your room. You need to rest. Come on…"

With the gentlest gestures, he guided you back inside and to your room, crossing empty corridors and avoiding people as much as he could. No one else but him needed to see you like this.

He helped you settle in bed, and only then did he notice that you were crying.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

He brushed your tears away. He had never touched you this way before, and it made his heart pound in his chest like it had never before. He let his fingers linger a little longer on your cheek.

"You must rest. We will talk about this in the morning."

He gave you a warm smile before turning away, but you held him back, catching his wrist before he could walk too far away. He turned to you again with a puzzled look.

"Can you stay with me?"

Your voice was barely more than a whisper, uncertain and fragile. He was used to hearing it loud and confident while you discussed amongst politicians and advisers, it was such a drastic change, it scared him. It was evident you needed someone to take care of you at that moment, and Caspian wouldn't have let anyone else do it in his stead.

He should have gone back to the reception, but how could he leave your side now?

So, he dragged a chair next to your bed, and sat down, offering you a reassuring smile. He held your hand in his, giving it a soothing squeeze.

"As you wish. But you need to sleep now."

"Are you angry?"

"No, I am not. We will talk about it tomorrow. Now, you need to sleep. Close your eyes."

You did as ordered, and fell asleep as soon as your eyelids had fallen. The warmth of Caspian's hand on yours was the last thing you remembered before surrendering to slumber.

-----------------------------

Your headache wasn't the worst thing that happened when you woke up. Nor was your nausea, or the disgusting taste that lingered on your tongue. No, the worst part of waking up was the note you found folded by the side of your bed.

Caspian would be waiting to see you in his office.

If parts of the previous day were a little blurry, you still remembered perfectly your conversations with the King.

He would ask you to resign. Or he might even fire you altogether. He could have asked you already for someone to pick up your things and carry them out of the castle… but then, Caspian was a kind man, and you weren't altogether surprised when you picked up an outfit to dress up and found all your belongings exactly where they belonged.

After your behaviour, there was no other alternative. You had been disrespectful, and you highly doubted that the king would appreciate working with someone who had romantic feelings for him.

But your pride made you decide that you would resign first. You would not let him throw you out of the castle. If you had to leave, which was painful enough already, never to see the man you loved again, then at the very least, you could be spared the humiliation of being pushed away. At least, you would be the one leaving.

You made your way to his office, at last. Taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. Your heart missing a beat when you heard Caspian's low voice answering on the other side. You walked in.

Caspian welcomed you with a smile, he was sitting at his desk, his back to the stained-glass windows that painted colours all across the room. The light coming from behind him made the image ethereal, a vision you could have summoned in one of your dreams…

"Good morning, Y/N. Please, take a sit," he invited you. "Are you feeling better?"

You struggled to swallow, cleared your voice. His voice made butterflies tickle your belly, but you ignored the feeling. You ignored how much you wanted to comply and approach him. This was not the time. Now was the time to be strong.

You remained at a safe distance from his desk, refusing to sit down.

"Your Majesty," you tried to keep your voice steady, but couldn't help the slight shake that accompanied your words. "I am well, thank you."

He opened his mouth to speak again, but you interrupted him, raising your hand to silence him.

"Please, your Majesty… let me speak."

He nodded, letting you continue. You took a deep breath, and finally gathered the strength you needed to speak again.

"I…My behaviour yesterday was… unforgiveable. And I am aware that I have crossed a line. What transpired last night is the proof that I can no longer work for you and serve Narnia at the best of my abilities as your adviser anymore. It is why I would like to resign. I would be very thankful if you would agree to allow me to stay in the castle for one last week, to allow me to look for a new home. My resignation will be effective immediately, and I can write it down, if you want me to."

Caspian remained silent for a moment, before slowly standing up, and walking towards you. His hands behind his back, he only stopped when he was but one step away from you. You stared at him, waiting for his reaction, completely motionless.

"I agree that… your confessions from last night make it impossible for us to continue like this. Things cannot remain the same now."

You fought with all your might to refrain your tears, that merely gather at the corner of your eyes, but didn't fall. You didn't flinch, nor did you back away though.

"I do think that you need to resign from your position in our government. I would not be… proper… to have my advisor be…"

"I will inform the rest of the staff immediately," you interrupted him. Which was incredibly rude, interrupting the king… but you couldn't take it. You couldn't stomach the pain that it would make you feel to hear him say the words he was about to utter.

It was enough that he didn't love you. You didn't need him to say it out loud.

You turned on your heels, but Caspian didn't let you step away. He caught your wrist before you could move away, and you turned back towards him, your eyes growing in surprise.

"I have not dismissed you, yet," he told you, quirking an eyebrow.

"I apologize, your Majesty."

Caspian gave you a smile. You wondered what was worth smiling for though.

"I thought we had agreed that there was no need to call me this way when we are alone."

"Things have changed."

"Not nearly enough, yet."

It was your time to frown.

"There is no need for you to move out of the Castle."

"But I…"

"Would you like to take a walk in the gardens with me this afternoon?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, completely confused.

"I… don't understand…"

"Did you mean what you said? Yesterday? Or did I not understand you right? I thought you said you had feelings for me."

You nodded, unable to answer, fleeing Caspian's gaze.

"I did… but…"

"Well, I am asking you if you would like to take a walk with me this afternoon."

"But I… why?"

His smile grew fonder, and you noticed the way his fingertips were shaking when he reached to hold your other hand.

"I… was hoping you would… like to spend some time with me," Caspian added, hesitant this time, a little shy, pinker shades appearing to colour his cheeks. "Not as my advisor but… as… a friend…"

"A friend?" you repeated, stunned.

"Or well… maybe… maybe more than a friend."

"But I… I am…"

"I feel the same way."

He had said the last sentence as fast as he could, forcing the words out like he would have pulled an arrow out of a wound. In one, quick motion, before the strength and courage would fail him.

Your mouth fell open.

"You… you do?" you stuttered, out of breath for some reason. You only just then noticed that you seemed to have forgotten how to breathe altogether.

"I do. And well… I am afraid that you need to resign, for it would be impossible for me to court one of my advisors. But as you have done so, I thought… what about a walk?"

There were a thousand thoughts swarming in your head, and most of them were going against Caspian's idea. Most of them told you this was impossible.

But you chose to simply ignore all of them, and answer what your heart was desperately begging you to say instead.

"Yes. Yes, a walk would be lovely."

#caspian #caspian x y/n #king caspian x reader #caspian x reader #caspian x you #king caspian #narnia #caspian fanfiction #caspian fanfic #caspian imagine #narnia imagine #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writing challenge

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years ago

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I think My Best Habit by the Maine would fit Sophie if she had an arc where she said “fuck this” and left the Black Swan to have actual autonomy over her life

Okay first of all you're so right. And second of all upon looking up this song and seeing the cover I just went "hehe ass." Moving on

It think the line "Good thing I don't exist for you at all anymore" really encompasses the whole aesthetic and vibe of that kind of arc. Sophie's existence started for someone else. She started because a group of people saw a problem and wanted to fix and so they created someone to help them do that, to have a role she never asked for. Even if it's just "to be something new," that's a condition of her existence she got no say in. Her upbringing was curated, where she was placed and who her parents were. An arc where she breaks away from that brings her autonomy fully into her control, where she exists for herself only, that's what that line represents. And it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks or if they're disappointed or happy for her, because her existence is for her, not anyone else.

That continues with "My feet are mine to follow / You don't get to decide." Her path is hers to decide, she gets to follow what she believes and do what she thinks is right without someone else guiding her or trying to tell her what's right and wrong. We saw some of that in her burning down the storehouse, because that was very much something everyone else would've decided against and they made that vocal when she got back. But she doesn't exist for them, and they recruited her to their side, they didn't recruit a tool to be used as they wished. They recruited and made a person. She gets to make her own decisions and reap her own consequences. She gets to make her own mistakes and have her own regrets, none of her controlled by someone else. That's a big shift from the young girl who kept looking for notes telling her what to do next, and i think it's a great one.

There's also "Burned our teenage years down to the ground," which I think is especially fitting. Sophie's teenage years have been filled with fighting, with listening. If we take the interpretation to the extreme, it's been filled with her being a pawn in someone else's conflict. She didn't ask for any of this, yet she was made to be the center of it. Her stepping away from that is getting rid of her teenage years, of being young, and stepping into being in control of herself, following her own feet, her own desires and beliefs. It also ties in nicely with the storehouse, which I've already mentioned. She burned it to the ground and in doing so, burned down the relationships between her and everyone else. That's not to say that they're all destroyed beyond repair, but they are all different, because she's revealed something about herself no one else expected. Those ties were a tie to her teenage years, so by burning down the storehouse she's burned down those specific ties to the young girl she used to be. She still has ties, but they're changed, and I think that could be utilized well in entering the "fuck this" arc.

All this to say that I agree entirely and there are so many more lines that I could use to relate to that kind of arc for her, both in the glimpses we've seen in canon and more extremes she hasn't gotten to. Her autonomy and relationship to everything happening is so important to the story, so it'd be absolutely enthralling to watch something like this play out !! thank you for the song recommendation!!

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc music analysis #quil's queries #solreefs #I absolutely love fuck this kinda of characters #I love it when they get pissed off and go off #I love when they're vindictive and ruthless and unyielding and pushing back and speaking out and forcing others to hear them #it is so so satisfying #it's cathartic #more characters should yell at people who've hurt and used them/others actually

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hoe-doroki · 4 years ago

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Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)

Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.

The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.

His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk

rating: explicit, 18+

wc: 5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.

That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.

“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”

Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.

“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”

“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.

You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.

Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.

The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.

Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.

Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.

“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink

“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.

“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.

“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”

“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”

You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.

“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.

“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.

“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.

You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.

“Woah, look at her.”

Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.

“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”

Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.

“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.

“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.

“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.

“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”

That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”

“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.

“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”

“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.

“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”

Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.

“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”

Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”

“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”

“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.

Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.

“Hello, uh, miss…”

You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.

You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”

“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”

You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.

“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering. “You see, I don’t really dance.”

The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”

You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.

Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”

This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.

“It’s also more fun with someone else.”

Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”

Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.

“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.

There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.

You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.

You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.

Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.

He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.

“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.

You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”

You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.

Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.

“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”

“None.”

“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.

Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.

You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”

The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”

He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.

“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”

“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.

“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”

He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.

“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”

That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.

“I’m good,” you whimpered.

“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”

He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.

“Strip and suck my cock.”

You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.

Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.

“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.

The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.

“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”

“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.

“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”

“Here?” you asked.

There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.

“Was I unclear, princess?”

“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.

“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.

“Which room is yours?”

“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.

Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.

You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Izuku.”

You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“That’s better.”

He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.

“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.

“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.

“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.

You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.

“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.

You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.

“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Touch yourself, then.”

You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.

“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.

He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.

“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.

“No, that was amazing,” you said.

Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”

“Cabinet above the sink.”

“Great.”

Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.

“You got up,” he said.

“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”

“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”

His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.

“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”

“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.

You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

“Can I?”

His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.

“Of course,” you said.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”

“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.

There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.

“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”

“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.

“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.

“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”

“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.

Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.

“Definitely.”

#ask ana #deku smut #izuku midoriya smut #not/sfw #mha smut #bnha smut

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projectjasper · 3 years ago

Text

my thoughts and opinions on "lovely writer": criticizing the critic

tw for discussions of age gaps, rape, and sex

before i turn into the mean and constantly dissatisfied archer that we all know and hate, i just want to say that i liked this show. i think it's great, actually! gene and sib are appropriately cute, the premise is nice, and the attempt at criticizing the industry is... well, an attempt, which is better than nothing. moreover, "lovely writer" came with gifts because it gave me my new favorite character, so you can't go telling me i'm trying to completely obliterate it or something.

besides, this specific post isn't going to get into analyzing the show as a whole anyway. i won't be talking about any irrelevant plot points, cinematography, sound design, or anything like that, though i could probably write a post just as long as this one about that side of things as well. however, i am here to specifically look at the problematic things that were both criticized by the show and included in the show without any criticism. i'm going to talk about the more serious side of things here, which means i'm going to get serious. and i'm going to be harsh. very harsh.

gene and nubsib: yes's and no's

overall, the relationship between gene and sib was a fair attempt at showing something complex, yet ultimately quite healthy, which i appreciate. there were some things i was especially glad about. the fact that sib dated other people before settling on getting together with gene, for example, makes the whole situation a little less codependent. however, as much as this show prides itself on not wanting to romanticize problematic relationships, there are at least two major problems with genesib.

the age gap (and why it was not needed)

i've tried my very best to give this entire concept the benefit of the doubt. at first, i was convincing myself that they were simply close childhood friends, then i was trying my best to believe that even though sib did have a sort of crush on gene (which sometimes happens to little children), gene only saw him as his younger brother, but eventually, the show gave me no choice, but to deem the entire storyline problematic, because they did their best to romanticize that relationship - from gene's dad seeing the "early signs" to the counting and kissing the cheek turning to counting and full-on lip-locking in the last episode.

i could go into how this could all easily be mended if little sib was shown as kind of obsessed with his older friend, but gene was shown as not being anywhere near interested in the kid. but the real question is - why was the age gap needed at all?

i've researched the age of the boys during the flashbacks to the best of my ability and it seems that gene is 11 and sib is 6 or 7. if sib was the same age as gene (or maybe just one year younger, but not any more than that), not only would none of it feel weird, it would also be quite appropriate to explore that first glimpse of romantic feelings some of us experience exactly around that age. i don't think it's necessary for sib to be much younger than gene (children can be just as impressionable at 11 as they are at 7, and as for gene being surprisingly nice and helpful and the other kids not wanting to play with sib, he could have easily been - for example - bullied by his peers instead, which would have the same effect).

moving forward to the present, i don't think the lack of an age gap would affect the storyline that much either. even if they desperately needed sib to be a university student, they could have that one-year difference i've talked about before, which is not as significant. sib could be in his last year of uni, while gene could have easily written his very first novel during his university years, which would actually make more sense (since that guaranteed him employment and freedom to write after he finished uni; and i would rather believe that he had time to write his first novel in-between classes than in-between shifts at work, which he would surely need to have if he started writing after finishing university).

so that brings me back to my initial question - why was it needed? and much like the show often does, i will leave this one up for your interpretation because i do not have any sensible answers myself.

the issue with sex and consent

"but archer!" - i hear you exclaim - "lovely writer is known for explicitly denouncing rape romanticization in bls, how could there possibly be any problems with consent here?" and i hear you, my dear reader. and you aren't incorrect, "lovely writer" is indeed very explicit at calling out bls for having rape scenes (and i do appreciate that). however, as i'm sure you know, there are different ways in which consent can be taken from a person, and there are different non-consensual acts that someone might perform. for example, there are many different forms of coercion, such as the person being persuaded until they feel like they have no other choice, but to say yes. touching someone or kissing someone without asking for permission are also non-consensual acts. i can go on and on, there are many examples outside of what so many people consider rape.

now, what if i tell you that though there (thank the gods) has been no rape present in "lovely writer", not all scenes with gene and sib are consensual? well, that's what i'm telling you because it's the truth. both the first kissing scene and the scene where gene and sib "try out different poses" have clear coercion in them. the entire "joke" of the scene before gene and sib's first time is literally built upon the concept of "a person is trying to run away from someone, who wants to have sex with them" and it is NOT funny. the later reveal of gene actually looking up how to have sex seems to be there on purpose, to show that everything that's happened is "ok" because gene was thinking about it. as a sensible person, i will only accept actual enthusiastic consent and not someone possibly maybe probably considering it. not to mention that right before having sex, sib asks gene one last time if he is sure, which is great, except it is immediately followed by "i'm not going to let you change your mind anymore", which - daily reminder - you are allowed to stop having sex at any point during the act if you start feeling uncomfortable with it. that's absolutely normal.

now the problem that we seem to run into here is that "lovely writer" appears to think that it's ok to push someone to the limit until they either finally agree or confidently and loudly disagree. the drama has repeatedly shown us that actually forcing someone to have sex is not ok; however, persuading and otherwise coercing someone, as well as taking an approximate guess of them wanting to have sex based on some marginally related factors, is ok. i would like to once again remind everyone that all of that is not ok.

one more issue i want to bring up in connection with sex is something i wish was common knowledge: it is NOT supposed to hurt during your first time. whether you are planning to have vaginal or anal sex for the first time, it should not hurt. and if it does, something has definitely gone wrong and you need to stop. you are not supposed to experience any pain or discomfort during sex, including your first time (outside of desired and therefore intentionally inflicted pain, but that's not what i'm talking about here). i have seen this misconception brought up many times in bls along with the other person "thanking the person who got hurt for bearing the pain to bring them pleasure" and absolutely none of that is normal. stop. please, just... stop.

criticism of the BL industry

there are certainly quite a few things i liked about the way "lovely writer" criticized the many problems that surround bls. i think they dealt especially well with the fan aspect. the breaches of privacy that are considered normal, the toxicity of social media that encourages people to comment on other people's personal life, harass and stalk them - all of that was shown in its full glory (or rather horror) and clearly condemned. it was also interesting to see how easily everyone around sib fell into the routine of having to hide genesib's relationship, just because "that's what's supposed to be done in these situations" - even tum did that without thinking twice.

however, i have not spent the past three years hating gmm for a show trying to criticize the industry not to focus on criticizing the production company and everyone professionally involved with the making of bls. don't get me wrong - they didn't completely overlook that side of things, but i found the way they approached it dissatisfying.

like yes, tum fights with his sister (aka sib's manager) and calls her out for her terrible actions, and the publisher (bua) eventually apologizes for what she did, but all of that feels a bit too... personal. i do not care about these individual stories. i care about you saying that the whole system is broken because it very much is. i wanted manner of death but with the bl industry, and instead, i got an "uwu the fans are demanding we do this, and our hands our tied" (which is a lie) and "uwu i'm just trying to make money" (which i mean... if you feel ok milking even more money than you already have by doing something unethical and immoral, then be my guest, but also go fuck yourself). besides that, i didn't see any criticism of tabloids or exploitative celebrities either (both of which we had examples of in the show), and that was kind of disappointing.

coming back to the fans for a moment, i also think that the criticism of real people shipping was entirely unsuccessful. we basically mostly got an "oh, what if this person's partner thinks they are actually dating", which... if a bunch of people on the internet who do not know your boyfriend personally and make all their judgments from screenshots and their imagination can convince you that your boyfriend is cheating, i've got some bad news for you and also a number for a therapist. partly i know why it was so complicated for them to get into it properly - the issue with real people shipping is an issue of privacy, boundaries, the perception of celebrities, acceptable interests, and many other complex topics. however, it's better to not criticize something than to criticize it badly and inaccurately (because the latter usually leads to even more encouragement of whatever you were attempting to criticize).

aey: the flamboyant villain

aey certainly starts as a promisingly complex character, but the farther we go from his backstory and his family, the less complex and the more evil he gets. eventually, the trauma he goes through is no longer enough to give him a get-out-of-jail-free card, and he loses all remaining sympathy after sexually harassing gene and pretending to drug sib. and i did start this post by saying that i am not to analyze any plot points or characters from the show here; however, i'm saying all this to prove a point that aey is a clear villain in the show. this is further cemented by the fact that by the end of the show he loses the only two people who cared about him, and the very last moment with him in the show is literally just him crying for about 3 minutes. there was no redemption arc, no pity, no revenge - he was left alone and broken, clearly punished by the narrative. and i've got a bone to pick here as well.

one of the first things that we find out about aey is that he is gay, and quite openly so. he is repeatedly described as very feminine by many characters, he flirts with men, he talks about being good in bed, and his entire character is built upon being gay (half of it directly, and the other half due to the fact that his entire backstory and therefore personality is also built upon the fact that he is gay). he is - for the lack of a better term - the gayest character in the show and the only one who is loud about being gay not because he is in love but simply because it is a part of him and he doesn't want to hide it. and he is the villain. not the disgusting publisher or the terrible manager - no, this guy was specifically chosen to ruin everyone's lives. and i can't say i'm particularly happy about that. *british voice* seems a bit homophobic love

not quite queer enough

as i said, aey is openly gay. gene and sib also eventually say that they are gay, gene's father teep is queer, so are tiffy and mhok. but it just doesn't seem to come up as much as it would in real life. the only time anyone has a problem with any of the characters being queer is when we deal with the parents. but knowing actual queer thai actors in real life, we are all aware how hard it can be for them, but it has not come up even once for aey, gene or sib (with genesib only being a problem because they are a "non-shippable couple"). being queer is far from being a non-issue in the industry, and i found it incredibly weird that it was never brought up (and i would also prefer if they brought that up instead of showing the unaccepting parents plot for the millionth time).

same goes for the lack of conversation around queer people on set. i think we all have a wonderful example of how much better a bl can get simply when it involves a queer director and/or screenwriter (gods bless p'aof), gay actors, etc. i also thought it was a missed opportunity that gene being a gay man writing a bl novel was never highlighted. if anything, everyone made a big deal out of him being a man writing a bl - never mind that he is a gay man that is far more qualified to write bls than a straight woman.

in conclusion, there are simply not enough queer issues talked about here for a show that is about queer people facing difficulties while making a queer drama.

tiffy and tum: the good, the bad, and the ugly

overall, tiffy and tum are quite cool. outside of my own personal feelings, i really liked the clear reversal of gender roles they have going on: he knows lots about make-up, she knows nothing about it, he knows how to sew, she knows how to repair a car, etc.

tiffy is also a nice addition to the precious few queer girls we have in bls. however, the way her being bi is executed... it isn't great. when she first talks about dating girls to tum, she says things like "even though i look like this" (implying queer girls have a certain look?) and "maybe it seemed normal because i was at an all-girls school" (which wtf does that even mean?). i think the worst thing, though, was when she assumed tum was gay. my best guess is she thought so because she initially thought that tum and gene were a couple; however, she should be the first person to know that just because he likes men, it doesn't mean that he doesn't like women or any other gender. even though there was nothing explicitly leading me to make this conclusion, this whole thing did kind of feel like the old "flipping the switch" stereotype (meaning, she used to like women, but now she likes men, and both of them can't happen simultaneously).

make it make sense

i think i've never been more confused in my entire life than when i found out that the director of "lovely writer" also happens to be the director of "th*arnt*pe". and if at first, i was asking a lot of questions about this peculiar individual, who went from working on the worst rape-romanticizing show we have ever had to a show that explicitly states that rape is not normal. but the more i thought about it, the less i was interested in him, and the more i was interested in whoever made the decision to hire him. there are dozens of different directors that have worked specifically on bls, and even more that haven't. yet out of all those, you decided to choose this one. the dude, who before your show has only directed the show with the biggest rape-y vibes. that casts a particular kind of shade on the entire show that i simply do not like.

conclusion

at the end of the day, i think what "lovely writer" tried to do was very interesting. it succeeded in some ways and failed in others. frankly, i think this show could have easily been made better if someone queer was involved in making it. that's always true, but especially so, when we try to talk about the issues of making a queer drama. either way, it's certainly a good start to this conversation; however - as i said - i'm still waiting for my manner of death but with the bl industry. this was unfortunately not it.

#it is here it is queer it has some controversial hot takes #archer speaks #lovely writer

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desertofsnowflakes · 3 years ago

Text

Incorrect Order Chapter 5 (Nessian AU)

A/N: Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, an angry Nesta and a heart-broken Cassian

2094 words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

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Nesta had never been one for small talk but in his presence she spoke as if she was excellent in small talk. They spoke of all unimportant things and ended up forgetting the important stuff; their names. Again.

Feyre sent an invitation for her first anniversary party as she did for every other occasion. The only thing different was that Nesta never bothered to pay heed to her invitations before. After the day in the alley, however, she decided she was going to turn over a new leaf. This was her first step.

She checked her reflection on the side-mirror. She tried to keep her outfit and make-up as simple as possible. She only wore a white ruffled-sleeved blouse with a black pencil skirt. Her hair was braided into a coronet. She looked good, but not as good as she’ll look if she took her own time to do a detailed make-over. She let out a breath and braced herself for the inevitable little chat with her sisters.

“Nesta?” a bewildered voice breathed. She whirled around to face her younger sister, Elain, looking up at her, a small smile playing about her lips. “You’re here,” she said and flung her arms around Nesta. Nesta automatically wrapped her arms around Elain’s smaller frame. Eventually, Elain pulled back.

“No offense, but I really thought you wouldn’t be coming,” Elain said.

Nesta felt as if the smile on her face couldn't be wiped out for the next few hours. “Honestly, I didn't think I'd come either. But here I am.”

She nodded and pulled Nesta to the garden the party was held at.

“I did this,” Elain said. “This garden, I planted and groomed all this.”

“No wonder why it looks so beautiful,” Nesta replied.

She flushed and said contemplatively, “You're so different now, Nesta.”

“I hope in a good way. Where's Feyre?”

“Let's go meet everyone first.”

Nesta shook her head. “I— I need to talk to both of you before I meet everyone else. ”

Elain hesitated then said, “Can you wait in that room? I'll fetch Feyre and come.”

Nesta nodded and headed to the door at the end of the garden Elain pointed at. The room was classy, much like the exterior of the house. She was struck by the simple yet grand theme of Feyre's house. She knew he and his brothers were rich but she just didn't understand the extent of their wealth. Till now.

“What are you thinking?” Feyre wasn't the type to blindly trust people. It took more than coming for her anniversary to persuade her that Nesta's intentions were good.

Nesta faced Feyre, her youngest sister, who stood before her, gorgeous yet fierce in a simple but elegant blue gown. She shrugged, “Just thinking that I'm glad my sisters were well-provided when I couldn't take care of them.”

Feyre’s face didn’t change, she just gestured towards the couches. “Have a seat,” she said.

Nesta sat down, “You both look splendid,” she said. Feyre said that the gown was a gift, Elain thanked Nesta and offered the same.

Nesta cleared her throat. “I need to tell the both of you something. Many things, actually.”

Elain nodded encouragingly. Feyre said, “Go on.”

So Nesta spoke. She apologised. For how she wasn't there to fulfill the role of an elder sister. For how she failed to attend Feyre's marriage and many other occasions. For all the rude words she spoke to them. For shunning them. She apologised for being self consumed. For everything else.

She also promised. To try harder. To become better. To be a good sister and sister-in-law. To be with them at all times, especially when they needed her. And they listened.

“I know these words aren't enough, but I'll try to make it so,” she finished, her hands clasped with both her sisters on her sides.

“You said you'll try, Nesta. We will too,” Feyre said.

“I see a very bright future ahead of us,” Elain said.

Nesta couldn't help the tears anymore. She folded her arms around her sisters and tucked them close. Her sisters. Her beloved sisters she now knew she'd do anything to protect.

“I see a very bright future too,” Nesta said.

Nesta pulled back after what felt like an hour and looked at her sisters' tear-streaked faces.

“I love you,” the three of them said simultaneously. Nesta giggled. Elain laughed. Feyre stared.

Nesta gently brushed the tears from both of their cheeks. “I don't want to see any of you crying.”

She hugged them again, willing the hug to convey everything she didn't say out loud.

“Now, now, enough snuggling. We've got a party to attend and people to meet, remember?” Feyre said.

***

Cassian was anxious. He had always hoped Nesta, his sister-in-law, would come for the gatherings they had; be it family dinners, or birthday parties, or the random meetings they had when they just got tipsy and played games. He hadn't seen her face-to-face before. All he knows about Nesta are from the descriptions from Feyre and Elain. That, too, was minimal. One of them would quickly change the topic to something pleasant the moment traces of an emotional breakdown were visible. Every time he hoped, he was let down. She never came. He vowed he would stop hoping and instead just go about and act as if she didn't exist. But that never happened. Every time his family met, his treacherous heart would start hoping only to have a chunk of it fall off when she failed to attend. Today was no different.

Then there’s the woman who he’d been talking to the whole afternoon. He was a tangled up mess of emotions and doubt and confusion. He had been sort-of pining after Nesta. She was exactly the person he’d like. Apparently she was drop-dead gorgeous, witty and… feral. Feyre said that. Feral. She’d be someone worth seeing. She was totally a worthy opponent. It’d be fun. But the other woman? Mother above, she was ethereal. More than ethereal, in fact. Words can't contain what he had to say about her.

He was damn near killing Az for calling him right when they were about to exchange names. He really can't believe he was a hairsbreadth away from knowing her before it was all ripped away. Now they were back to square one. He didn't know anything about her.

Azriel clapped him on his back so hard that he almost stumbled and fell. Or probably that was because he was too distracted. “All good Somm?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied noncommittally. He busied his hands with re-rinsing the champagne flutes and wiping them clean again. He did this two times already. Still.

“Mood is sour today, Cass?” Az teased, mock-frowning.

“Nah,” Cassian said wryly, “it's as sweet as honeydew. Especially today, when my chat got interrupted.” He glared at Azriel.

“Now, now, that is a story for another day. For now though, I think I've got something that can cheer up your brooding self.”

“What is it?” he mumbled.

Az grinned. “Nesta is here.”

***

Feyre and Elain took Nesta on a quick tour around the house. Feyre’s paintings were hung on the walls throughout the whole house. Nesta grimly noticed that there wasn't a single picture of her. There were even paintings of their father whose heart had long stopped beating. But none of hers. If only she didn’t push herself away, Nesta would’ve been a happy part of her sisters’ lives.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Feyre took her hand in hers. Elain tucked herself to Nesta’s side, wrapping her arms over her slender shoulders.

Nesta already met Mor, a stunning blonde woman, and Amren, a slightly intimidating and short person. Now she only had to meet her brother-in-laws.

“Let’s go meet the boys!” Elain said brightly.

We walked back to the garden. Feyre seemed to get more and more elated the closer we got to the garden. Huh. Probably falling in love would do that to someone. Anyway, as long as her sisters were happy.

They stepped through the doorway. The garden was decorated with more banners and streamers hung on the back of chairs and on the low branches. Again, it looked opulent in a simple way.

There were three men in the centre of the garden, gathered around a table. They all were slightly similar, broad shouldered, tapered waists, muscular limbs. Three of them wore formal shirts and pants clinging to their frames. The one in the middle was Rhysand, she supposed. She smirked internally. Of course Feyre ended up with this guy. She's got a good taste. Must've gotten it from the oldest sister.

The one on the right, though. His figure felt familiar. Very, very familiar. She couldn't quite put a finger on it yet.

“The one on the left is Azriel, the one on the right is Cassian,” Feyre said, and Nesta nodded.

The boys must be really engrossed with their conversation. They hadn't noticed the three of them yet.

The guy she thought was familiar threw his head back and laughed. She gasped. That laugh. She'd know the laugh anywhere. Indeed, when he angled his face so that she could get a glimpse, she knew she was done for. She swallowed with much difficulty.

“I need to go,” she said quickly.

“Go? But— but we haven't cut the cake yet. It's still early. We've got lots more fun stuff,” Elain said.

“You said you'll try, Nesta. Only, this doesn't feel like 'trying',” Feyre said.

They sounded… hurt.

Mother above, I'm doing this wrong.

“Nesta?” Elain asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Feyre added, “you look pale.”

“Y-yeah it's f-fine. Kinda. My head hurts,” she said, accidentally clutching her stomach. “I-I mean, yeah my head hurts. Very badly. I gotta go.” She looked helplessly at both of them. “I'm so sorry. I really am. It's just— I think I need rest. I'll recompense. Probably dinner in three days?” They both shared a look and agreed.

Nesta was already walking away. “Love you both,” she threw over her shoulder.

***

“Feyre!” Rhys called. He beckoned Feyre and Elain to the table. He didn't see Nesta.

Cassian lightly kissed Feyre on her cheek once they made their way to the table and said, “Gorgeous as always. Happy anniversary!”

Feyre grinned, but it showed traces of disappointment.

He frowned. “Hey, what's wrong?”

She just shook her head and mumbled, “Nesta.” Rhys's face hardened. His brother was never fond of Nesta. He said that she was why Feyre was always worried.

“Where's Nesta?” Az asked, craning his neck to see behind farther.

“She… left,” Elain pointed, revealing a figure disappearing behind the gates. A figure he knew all too well. Shitshitshitshit.

His head snapped back to his brothers. “That is Nesta?” he damn near shouted.

Rhys scowled, “Yeah.”

No wonder why she's so beautiful, he thought dumbly before running after her with a quick “I'll be back.”

***

Nesta was wrong. In all her happiness of being reunited with her sisters, she completely forgot how even a small thing can break one's smile. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She kept her calm demeanour, but inside, she was a raging storm of emotions.

One step in front of the other, she kept reminding herself.

She kept walking. Even when she heard footsteps. Even when the steps got louder. Even as he got close enough to cease running.

But not when he called her name. She halted. Locked up her emotions. She knew she shouldn't but she turned around anyway.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“Nesta,” he breathed. She tried to hold back her shudder. It was from the night air, she told herself.

“If you have nothing to say, do let me know. I'm not going to wait forever,” she said. Harsher than she intended to. But she didn't care, at least, that's what she told herself.

Cassian winked, “I'm honored you came, sweetheart. I'll pass the credit to my influence on you. ”

She ground her teeth against the truth threatening to fall off her lips. Yes, I came here because you made me happy. And I thought that if I tried, as I did with you, I can rebuild my relationship with my sisters.

***

Cassian did something stupid. He grabbed her hand. Her eyes snapped to his, burning with anger. Like the day they first met.

He gave her a crooked grin that he knew would drive her mad. Well, more than she already was. He tilted his head to the garden, “The party is that way, love.”

She snatched back her hand at continued walking. Like a fool, he followed. “I spoke to my sisters. Told them I won't be staying tonight. And that we'll have dinner in three day's time. Does that satisfy you? Now, can you stop following me?”

“Something's wrong. What's wrong, Nes?”

“One,” she ground out, “don't call me that. Two, I'm a grown-ass woman; I know how to take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter.”

“You did. That day,” he said quietly.

She whirled on him, “Is this you taking back favours? Because I'm not interested. You want money? Take it. Tell me your price and fucking take it! Don't tread on my heels because you helped me, okay? I've got way better things to do.” She paused, “And don't follow me, Cassian.”

She turned and stalked away.

You want money? Take it. 'Take it.' As if he were a beggar, asking for alms. As if they weren't laughing at each other's jokes not more than an hour ago. As if he didn't spend a week taking care of her as if she were a part of his soul. Maybe she was.

But that was before, Cassian thought as his heart cleaved into two perfect halves. No— it smashed to a million tiny pieces.

He waited till Nesta was out of his line of sight. He turned and walked back to the garden, leaving his heart behind.

taglist: @shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella

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hooniee · 4 years ago

Text

— ꒰‧⁺ maple tree*ೃ༄

↷ ni-ki x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ genre: fluff | romance⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread! | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ synopsis: almost getting squished by a freshman boy falling out of a tree, might have made your monday morning turn around ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷author note: hi guys! this is for @enhypenwriters event! strangers to lovers <3 this was one out of three i wrote and this was one i wasn’t satisfied with but it was a cute idea (or at least i think so!) please enjoy! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

monday morning was unmistakably not on your team. from your charger being broken and leaving your phone dead to your wicked idiot brother consuming the last slice of toast, you were not a festive person.

"i'm heading out idiot, don't be late," you shout at your brother who just replies with an 'okay!'

rummaging around your jacket pocket, you pull out a granola bar that was half-eaten from the other day and scarfed it down.

definitely a bit stale, but you were appreciative nonetheless.

you arrive at the bus stop and take a seat, enjoying the scenery. one of your favorite destressers in the hectic mornings.

arriving at school, you hasten your steps with five minutes remaining.

'mr.kim is going to mark me absent for the seventh time this month.'

fortunately, this was the only good thing going for you today.

you exhault in relief and take out your materials for math class as you mentally adjust yourself for the long day ahead.

this day couldn’t get any more tiring.

from an exhausting morning, your lunch period comes to rescue you from starvation.

you head outside to your usual place beneath the maple tree in the courtyard, with your sandwich and chocolate milk.

taking a mouthful of your sandwich, you draw out the scarlett letter from your bag to relish in the meantime

profoundly absorbed in your book, you didn't recognize that a boy is sitting on a tree branch right overhead you.

he didn’t mean to stare down but it was the first time he had seen you.

he would admire you from a distance until mother nature said ‘no’

CRACK

there was the familiar sound of a snapping branch and you managed to glance up and duck it just in time to see a mop of blonde tresses right next to you.

the blonde hair boy instantly rose up and dusted himself off, clearing his throat, pretending that nothing had happened.

you were still flustered at the out of the blue fall. you place your book facing down, marking the page where you left off.

“a-are you okay? that was a pretty high fall,” glimpsing at the maple tree and back to him.

you have never seen this guy. he was tall and lean with milky skin and blond hair that touched his harmonious brown eyes.

the gaze he held on you was interesting.

navy blue nametag, an underclassman

“don’t worry princess, i’m alright. i've had worse” he returns with a wink.

a simple wink was enough to send a rush of blood to your cheeks.

'what a flirty freshman, wasn't he just embarrassed a couple of seconds ago? 360 change'

“if anything hurts, just go to the nurse. please be careful,” you say instantaneously, attempting to flee quickly.

he doesn't need to see the powerful blush on your cheeks that won’t leave.

a tug of your wrist sticks you in place. he spins you around to confront him but the grass appeared to be more appealing.

there's a moment of silence before he asks. “...are you blushing?”

your brain was internally smashing your head against a book.

“no i am just not used to a freshman guy falling from the sky. don’t flatter yourself, i have standards.” you spit out.

"i didn't even mention anything about myself, i just asked if you were blushing," he smirks at you, feeling boastful.

how did you just betrayed yourself?

“whatever! now if you don’t mind, i’ll be going now. i’m late.”

neglecting your book and food, you hastily grab your bag and head out to your following class.

he chuckles to himself, finding your flustered demeanor adorbale. he looks down at where you sat.

"hey! you forgot your-" the freshman exclaims but you had left and no traces of your silhouette could be found.

he bends down, plucking your book and analyzing it for any name.

'you would definitely be back for this' he thought to himself.

peeping at your un-opened chocolate milk, he looks around before snagging it.

"free milk for me," he hums to himself.

you, on the other hand

you aspired to punch yourself for three purposes.

one, you forgot your food and you were perishing.

two, your book was gone

three, that damn freshman.

you were too ashamed to show your face infront of him. not when he caught you profusely blushing from a wink.

for the next few days, you dodge your usual spot and lingered in the library instead.

that method came to an end because you didn't realize how many OVER affectionate couples occupied the library.

you had mentally battled with yourself, forgetting to pay attention in classes.

'there was a chance he wasn't going to be there'

'but there's also a possibility that he'll be there"

you decided to convince yourself that he wouldn't be there. you craved not being shoved in a cubicle and have couples make out in your favorite book isles.

the next day you head to the maple tree and before you sit, you glance at the encompassing areas.

you didn’t see any traces of a lanky, blonde boy near the tree or IN the tree.

and assuming the coast was clear, you relax.

the previous book you were reading was nowhere to be seen so you brought a new book, frankly in love

you plug in headphones to tune out and you immersed yourself into the book. after a few minutes, your earbud comes out or more specifically, taken out.

you look up and nearly screamed. the freshman boy was dangling off the tree with your right earbud in hand. barely an inch away from your face.

this was the closest anybody has been to your face and you tried not to make any sudden movements.

“what are you doing?” you furrow your eyebrows at the boy hanging. he flashed you a radiant smile that put the sun out of business before jumping down, landing smoothly.

your cheeks became warm again, grasping that you were gradually falling for this freshman you didn't know the name of.

“sorry! i just wanted to talk to you” he cheekily said, “nice blush”

“that's fine i guess? AND i'm not blushing, i was just startled,” you avoid eye-contact.

he playfully rolls his eyes before extending his hand to you with your book.

"i believe this is yours?" the boy returns you the book you rummaged for.

your eyes widen, realizing that he had the book the whole time.

"oh my gosh! i was looking for this everywhere," you blurted.

you look at him and he smiles.

you fall back into being stiff. you had never been this anxious under someone's gaze until you met him.

this time, you tried to kindle a conversation.

“why do you want to talk to me?” you ask curiously.

you had never had someone excited to talk to you like this. you were wishing that his interest was genuine.

he pauses to consider a bit, placing a finger to his chin.

“you’re interesting and i want to get to know you more, toto” he hums and you're perplexed by the suddenly calling.

'toto? that's new'

“toto? that’s not my name, why are you calling me that?” you tilt your head.

you didn't know what was weirder, the nickname or the freshman aspiring to get to know you.

“don’t worry about it,” he smiles,

"why are you alone out here? shouldn't you be eating in the canteen?” he settles next to you.

for the first time, you locked eyes with him and it was dangerous. you could get lost in his eyes if you gazed for too long.

“because i want to, what is with the Q&A? are we playing twenty questions?” you sneer.

this freshman recognized how to push the right buttons to make you flustered at the precise moments.

“maybe, or is it a date?” he answered

you just choked on your own saliva and you hoped he didn't catch that.

it grew quiet and he stared at you with a fixed gaze. feeling awkward, you shove the other earbud into his ear.

he flinches from the abrupt contact but loosens and smiles, recognizing the song that resonated from your earbuds.

“toto, is this she’s in the rain by the rose?” he gasps.

it shocked you because not many people know this band.

“yeah, you know the rose? this is my favorite song from them” you flash a smile, feeling content.

'something in common, maybe he's not so bad'

you both softly sway together, occasionally bumping shoulders.

"nishimura riki," he says.

you didn't catch what he said, "hm?"

"nishimura riki is my name, but you can call me ni-ki," he smiles at you.

"(y/n) (l/n), (y/n) sunbae to you," you laugh.

"what if i called you mine instead?"

[the nickname toto, came from tomato! the reader blushes easily and ni-ki is quick to notice, rebranding her as toto <3]

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oumakokichi · 4 years ago

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Do you think that Kokichi had any remorse for Gonta during trial 4 or did he actually not care? I've seen a lot of people saying different opinions from both sides of the argument. But I'm really confused because there was a moment where after Gonta was executed, correct me if I'm wrong but Shuichi asked Kokichi if he could reveal the secret of the outside world (?) But Kokichi replied with something like “I don't want to....” and seemed generally upset? But then a few moments later he snapped out if it and began acting like he had no sympathy whatsoever. I just really wanna know how Kokichi actually, truly felt about Gonta and if he regretted manipulating him. Sorry if you've already been asked this and have already given an answer, thank you!

Hi anon—I actually wrote a pretty big master-post on chapter 4 not too long ago which I think more or less sums up my thoughts on Ouma’s behavior in the post-trial! You can find it here if you want (it’s pretty long and I tried to answer a whole bunch of questions about Ouma in chapter 4 specifically, since it’s the chapter I get asked about the most).

More specifically though, I’m afraid that there is no easy, definitive answer to that question. I can only share my personal opinions about how I believe Ouma felt in that scene. And personally? I do think he was genuinely upset and distraught about Gonta’s death, that he even momentarily considered giving up all his plans and being executed alongside him, and that he cared about Gonta and deeply regretted using him as a sacrificial pawn in his plans.

I’ll discuss what I mean in more detail, but it’ll probably get pretty long, so I’ll put the rest of this post under a cut as always!

The thing is, though, I’ve shared my personal thoughts about the chapter 4 post trial many times, including my reasoning and all of the textual evidence that shows how much Ouma cared about the rest of his classmates. But ultimately, there will probably always be some people who disagree, because their reading of the text will always be a little bit different. Unless we ever have an interview from Kodaka in the future where he directly says, “this is what Ouma was thinking and feeling at this exact moment,” there really won’t ever be a way to know what was going through his head with 100% certainty (and I do feel like leaving it open-ended is something of Kodaka’s intention, anyway, especially since Ouma is supposed to be a very polarizing character).

That being said, I do think it’s worth analyzing the text and drawing your own conclusions, because ndrv3 is a game that changes a lot depending on how you interpret it, and Ouma’s character is included in that. It’s really easy on a first playthrough to get wrapped up in what Ouma says or does without really looking at why he says it, or at his underlying motivations. Going back through the game on a replay though, I do personally think it’s possible to guess at what he might have been feeling during those super conflicting scenes in chapter 4.

In my opinion, I think Ouma did truly care about Gonta as a friend, and that his guilt and remorse over what he did was genuine. Not only did Ouma and DICE have a very strict taboo against killing (mentioned directly in his motive video in Japanese, though the part about it being an actual rule was stripped from the localization), but we don’t see Ouma’s façade crack like this very often. Most of the time when he does his trademark “crocodile tears,” it’s with his very loud, exaggerated crying sprite, and he bounces right back to acting normally within a moment or two.

There are a few exceptions to this, of course—he uses the “crocodile tears” sprite to cry at Kaede, Amami, and Toujou’s deaths, but it’s still very likely he was shaken up by seeing them dead). Nonetheless, we don’t see his much more subdued crying sprites more than a handful of times, particularly in the chapter 4 post-trial just before Gonta’s execution, as well as in Momota’s flashback in chapter 5 when he talks about how Ouma actually hated the killing game the whole time.

I’m aware that some people simply brush these moments aside and assume that Ouma is lying though all of them, but I personally just can’t agree with that interpretation. Assuming that Ouma is lying whenever he shows remorse or guilt or hatred for the killing game means assuming that he’s telling the truth in pretty much every other scene—which doesn’t make much sense, given that his entire character is centered around the concept of lying, as well as moral ambiguity and subverting expectations. Assuming that Ouma actually means what he’s saying 100% of the time unless it just happens to involve showing any kind of guilt or remorse turns him into a very boring, predictable, uninspired character (none of which are words I would use to describe him personally).

Ignoring those moments where Ouma shows genuine attachment to his classmates and distaste for the killing game also means ignoring several key pieces of evidence and clues about him that we are directly provided in the game, including his motive video and Momota’s flashback in chapter 5. Personally, I don’t feel like there’s any reason to include these scenes at all unless it’s to help shed light on Ouma’s motivations and provide players with a clear reason to try and go back through the game again to look at Ouma’s actions through a new perspective.

I also feel that Ouma genuinely cared about Gonta because to put it simply, there was no incentive for him to lie in that scene. He got absolutely nothing out of it—and considering he turns around and starts playing the villain on purpose all of 5 minutes after Gonta’s death, he definitely wasn’t trying to earn sympathy points or trick the rest of his classmates into trusting him. In fact, he could’ve easily tried to make himself look more sympathetic by putting all of the blame on Miu for trying to kill him, or even on Gonta. But instead he fully admits to coming up with the plan to kill Miu and spends the entire post-trial trying to convince everyone not to hate or blame Gonta.

If he was truly as sadistic and horrible as he pretended to be, I think he would’ve pulled a 180 and started throwing names and insults around while Gonta was still alive to hear it, not after he was already dead. If he didn’t care at all about Gonta’s feelings, he had no reason to try and take all the blame on himself while insisting that none of what happened was actually Gonta’s fault. If anything, revealing himself to be this horrible, evil villain who enjoys seeing other people suffer or die would’ve really been adding insult to injury, and probably would’ve crushed Gonta completely, even before his execution started.

But… Ouma doesn’t do any of this. Despite having every opportunity to either portray himself as more of a victim and fling all the blame on Miu and Gonta, or else to completely embrace being a villain who loved seeing people suffer, he doesn’t do either of these things. The way I personally see it, Ouma waits until Gonta is already dead, and when the rest of his classmates begin pushing him for answers about the outside world and demanding to know what Gonta saw, that’s when he finally snaps and resigns himself to acting like a villain in order to make everyone hated.

You could argue that trying to make everyone hate him had a twofold effect: it helped set the stage for him to pretend to be the ringleader in the next chapter, which he clearly wanted, but it also was a way of taking things out on himself and shows just a small glimpse of how much he hated having to dirty his hands in chapter 4. After all, Ouma even says it himself: that the “role of a villain is perfect for him,” because he’s already made everyone hate him. We see Ouma occasionally tease or antagonize the rest of his classmates plenty of times throughout the game, but it’s true that he doesn’t really step into that “villain” role until the end of chapter 4, once he’s crossed a line that he can never come back from by manipulating both Miu and Gonta to their deaths.

None of this is to say that what Ouma did to Gonta is okay, by any means. I think he definitely did care about Gonta and even thought of him as one of the few trustworthy people in the killing game, even someone close to a friend, but that doesn’t mean that manipulating him and using him like a chess piece was okay in the end. I just also think it’s important to realize that there were plenty of extenuating circumstances that led Ouma to act the way he did—including the fact tha he knew Miu was going to kill him, that he already suspected she had measures to prevent him from fighting back or killing her himself in the VR world, and the fact that he did not want to die or get everyone else killed in the trial.

It’s possible for people to care about others without necessarily treating them the best or doing the right thing. A huge part of Danganronpa, something that’s been evident from the very first game, is that sometimes characters can and do hurt each other, even when they care about each other or wouldn’t be a threat otherwise.

It’s the existence of the killing game itself that causes so many characters to go to extremes that they normally wouldn’t, whether it’s Maizono trying to frame Naegi in dr1 despite caring about him a lot, Kaede deciding to try and commit murder under everyone’s noses despite trying to unite the group and wanting everyone to trust her, or Ouma using Gonta as a pawn to kill Miu in his place because he didn’t want to die.

At the end of the day, people are still probably going to have very polarizing opinions about Ouma and the things he did in chapter 4, and that’s honestly okay. In my own opinion, Ouma definitely isn’t a completely flawless, innocent baby who “did nothing wrong”—he absolutely is manipulative, cold, and calculating when he wants to be, and it’s a fact that he got two people killed, even if he didn’t want things to reach that point. But I also personally don’t think it’s fair to write him off as the exact kind of “evil villain” he pretends to be; not only is it a shortsighted interpretation of his larger motivations, but it also completely ignores any replay value and completely shoots down the appeal of trying to interpret Ouma’s thoughts and actions because “he was lying about feeling bad anyway, what’s the point in analyzing him.”

Tl;dr: I do think Ouma cares about Gonta, that he probably even thought of him as the closest thing he had to a friend in the killing game, and that what he did to Gonta in the end wasn’t okay. I think he really did respect Gonta for being such a sweet and kind person, but that he also knew Gonta was extremely naïve and that he would be one of the easiest people in their group to manipulate, hence why he decided to rely on him instead of anyone else. Their friendship is an important part of both of their character arcs, but it’s definitely not what I would call “on equal footing.”

I understand why Ouma’s actions might make some people really resent him, but I also believe that kneejerk reaction of anger and dismissal is exactly the point: Ouma does feel terrible about the things he did, but he doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy or forgiveness, not even the player’s. This, in my opinion, is why he starts embracing the villain role so completely from this point on, and why he’s never quite able to make the same sort of cold, calculating sacrifices in chapter 5 that he did in chapter 4.

I hope this helps answer your question, anon, along with the other chapter 4 post I wrote! Thank you for all your support!

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #new danganronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #ouma kokichi #my meta #ask #anonymous #ndrv3 spoiles //#okay to reblog

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