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rosylix · 1 day ago

Note

Hii! I've never requested but I can't get this idea out of my mind..

So basically Felix and reader have been college roommates for a year or two but Felix ends up falling for them and has to tell them cos it’s only a few months till graduation.

Totally understand if you can't do it, but thought I'd ask!

everglow

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂𝓸𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓮𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓮𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

your best friend and roommate is acting especially sentimental tonight. you try to get to the bottom of it

pairing: felix × gn!reader

wc: 6.3k

content: college au, friends to lovers, feelings realization, shy felix, oblivious reader, they're nerds, fluff, light angst, crying?, pouty lix, kissing, mildly suggestive?, hopeful ending

a/n: my first fulfilled request?? i apologize if this was sitting in my inbox for forever.. i wasn't planning on writing a whole thing but then suddenly. i had an epiphany. ty for helping me out of writers block anon 🫶 i hope this is kinda how you were envisioning it!

[also read on ao3]

—

Your college dorm is a familiar sight, the mess of papers and coffee cups giving away the fact that the end of the year is fast approaching. You've been sharing this space with Felix for the past couple years, both of you working hard to keep your grades up and—hopefully, somehow—graduate?

…You're sure it'll be fine. As long as you do well enough on your capstone project, which is why you're sitting at Felix's desk, dutifully researching. Sometimes you take to his room when you need a change of scenery or just want company; though it's just you right now as Felix had to leave for class earlier.

You're just about to take a stretch break when you hear the front door open and soon enough, Felix trudges into the room. “Still here?” he says when he sees you.

“Unfortunately.” You set your things down and look over at him with a long sigh to convey your exhaustion.

“Dude, same,” he groans, tossing his bag on the floor before flopping down on his bed. “I don't think I've ever been so fucking tired in my life. Why did I pursue higher education again?”

That gets you to laugh a little. “Maybe for some kind of high-paying job and… a sense of accomplishment?” you suggest.

He lets out another groan, rolling over on his side. “But at what fucking cost? Sleep deprivation and a caffeine addiction?” He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Remind me why I'm doing this again.”

You get up and walk over to his bed, sitting down on the edge next to him, a playful smile on your face. “Well, I seem to recall someone who said they wanted to be some hot shot computer engineer.”

He props himself up on one elbow to face you. “Ooh, you think I'm hot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You give him a look that hopefully conveys how much of an idiot you think he is. “Hot shot, dumbass.”

…Still, it would be dishonest to disagree: your roommate is attractive. Anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

“Ohh, I see. You think I'm hot shit?”

You roll your eyes so far back it almost hurts. “As if you don't hear that enough.”

He grins, clearly amused and clearly not above shamelessly fishing for compliments. “Oh, but it's so much more fun to hear it from you,” he teases, leaning back against his pillow.

You give him a withering glare but he just reaches out and pats the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit down.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I am literally sitting down.”

“Okay, well, closer, genius.”

You sigh exaggeratedly, but you humor him anyway, scooting over closer to where he's lounging on the bed. You thought that was enough, but this is Felix, and you should have known better. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you down next to him.

He shifts so he's on his side facing you and grins, clearly satisfied. His hair is messy and there's a hint of dark circles under his eyes, but he still manages to look unfairly attractive.

You shake your head at his antics and let out a long sigh. “Well… You've already made it this far, you know,” you tell him. “Only a few months left of dealing with school, and then you're done.”

“...Yeah.”

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting across your face, a hint of something almost like melancholy in his eyes.

“Why am I kinda sad, though?” he finally asks with a chuckle.

You blink. “Sad? About being done with school?”

He nods. “I mean, I want to be done, god, believe me I do, but…” He blows out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, it just doesn't feel as good as I expected it to. And I'm…” He pauses, clearly thinking his words over.

“I'm… gonna miss this, honestly. A lot.”

“This?” You gesture around the room. "You're going to miss this? Our tiny-ass, overpriced apartment?"

He laughs at that. “Not this place, I guess.”

“Then? The constant lack of sleep? Exams? The shitty cafeteria food?”

“Please,” Felix scoffs before taking a deep breath, looking somewhere behind you. “I'm… going to miss this." He looks back at you and pokes your shoulder for emphasis. “This. Us living together. Hanging out all the time. I'm going to miss that.”

You blink, a little taken aback at his earnestness. “Oh,” you say intelligently. “Yeah. I…”

You try to ignore the way your heart is suddenly in your throat. In truth, you've been doing your best not to think about it, how things will inevitably change after graduation.

“I mean…” you start. “It's not like we're never going to see each other again or something. We'll keep in touch, right?” But even as you say it, you feel yourself deflating. It’s not the same.

His expression reflects yours, his smile soft but a little sad around the edges. “...Of course we will.” He sounds like he's saying it as much to himself as he is to you.

He's silent for another moment, his fingers gently running over the blanket, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It won't… be the same though,” he says, mirroring your own thoughts. “Like— you know? I'm gonna miss the convenience store we always go to at 2AM, I'm gonna miss our late-night study sessions and the shitty coffee you make, I'm gonna miss how you always use up the hot water in the shower and your annoying alarm waking me up at fuck-ass in the morning—” He suddenly cuts off, a flush rising in his cheeks.

He turns on his back again, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, I don't know, just shut up and let me wallow in my feelings.”

You're honestly a little speechless. All that, things he claims are annoying — he's going to miss it all that much?

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, you sap, look at me.”

“No. I'm wallowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that.” You poke his arm. Then again, harder. “Come on, look at me.”

Felix huffs dramatically, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. “What? I’m looking.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. He's pouting, looking a little petulant but still so endearingly cute, and you can definitely see the hint of embarrassment in his gaze as he peeks at you.

You let a smile spread across your face. “You're gonna miss me.”

Felix averts his gaze, his cheeks going a little pinker. “I mean, a little, I guess,” he mumbles, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ugh, why are you looking at me like that? Don't let it go to your head or anything.”

It's so obvious that it's more than just a little — but you decide not to call him out on it. Instead, you lean forward, propping yourself up with one arm. “Too late,” you tease, grinning widely. “You're gonna miss me so much.”

He groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes again. "Whatever. Shut up.”

You look at him silently for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his messy hair. God, he's so cute. You've always been aware of how pretty he is, but there's something about seeing him like this, completely unguarded and vulnerable, that's making your lungs feel tight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze away from him. “Hey, come on, cheer up.”

“No,” he says, still hiding his face behind his arm. “I'll just lay here and wallow and die."

“So dramatic,” you chide, poking his side roughly, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You're starting to feel a little flustered too.

He whines at the contact, swatting at your hand, but you notice he hasn't moved his other arm away from his face. “Ow, hey, violence,” he complains, curling away from your fingers. “Ow, ow, dude—”

You reach out and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He lets out a half-hearted protest, but doesn’t get the chance to resist.

Oh. His eyes are shining.

You freeze.

He's pouting again, but it's less childish now and more vulnerable, embarrassed. For a moment you just sort of stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of you are. His face is so close, so pretty, and your heart is doing something strange, beating rapidly in your chest.

“You’re—” You clear your throat, struggling with what to say. You… hadn’t realized how much this was impacting him.

He looks away and blinks hard, but his eyes are still a bit misty, unshed tears stubbornly sticking to his eyelashes. “Sorry. I'm being stupid,” he finally says, his voice a little quiet. “Ignore me, I'm just being weird, it's—” He swallows. “...I'm tired.”

Oh, god. You've been joking and teasing and making fun, but now you just feel like the biggest jerk, because he's actually really upset about this.

“Wait, no,” you murmur, suddenly serious. “No, it’s not— You're not being stupid. I—” You're having a lot more trouble than usual forming coherent sentences.

Your hand is still around his wrist, your fingers pressing against his pulse point. You squeeze it lightly. “It's okay.” You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, in contrast to the rest of him lying completely still. “It's not stupid. I’m— I'm gonna miss you too, idiot.”

He lets out a wet sounding laugh at that, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his arm away from your grip. “So mean,” he says. “Do you have to insult me to say nice things?”

“Well, yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you feel a bit of relief that you've managed to cheer him up a little.

“But you mean it?” He looks up at you with a shy expression. “You're gonna miss me?”

“Of course,” you say, suddenly struck by how much you mean it. “Yeah, I am. A lot.”

He lets out a low breath, eyes flicking over your face. “Yeah?” he says quietly.

It's silent for a moment. Felix is still looking at you, a little shyly, and it's driving you a little crazy. He sighs, his brow pinched slightly, like he’s struggling with some internal conflict. You wait patiently, giving him space to express what he wants to say.

But he doesn't. Just averts his eyes and blinks harshly at the wall behind you.

“Please don't cry or I'll start crying too,” you say with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Felix lets out a shaky breath. “...I’m not going to cry.”

You give him a look.

“I’m not,” he insists, using his free hand to rub his eyes. “I have allergies or something, I just— I—”

He hesitates, clearly trying to gather his thoughts.

“Okay, look,” he sits up, pulling his wrist free from your grip and taking a deep breath. “It's just— I…” He stops, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Felix?” you ask, sitting up too. You're starting to get a little concerned. Why is the mood suddenly so weird?

He groans, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks. “This is embarrassing.”

It doesn't help your concern. “What’s embarrassing?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady.

“This,” he mutters, still hiding his face.

You hesitate a moment, not really knowing what to do, before tentatively reaching out and touching his arm. “Um… It's fine, you can talk to me.”

He lets out a frustrated breath before finally looking at you. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Oh. “Well… Did you… like, kill someone or something?”

Felix stares at you for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch a little. “No, I didn’t kill anyone, you psychopath,” he says dryly.

“Okay, well, good,” you say, clearing your throat. “No illegal activities? The government isn't after you?”

“I… No,” he says slowly.

This conversation is taking a bizarre turn. “And you're not, like… secretly an alien sent to spy on humans this whole time? And… now you have to return to your home planet to plot the annihilation of Earth?”

That finally gets Felix to laugh. “You're— you're a fucking idiot,” he says through giggles. “Seriously.”

“I’m just checking,” you say, crossing your arms. “You're being all weird and shit and…” you gesture vaguely. “Maybe you're an alien. I don't know.”

That only sets him off giggling again. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “Why are you so dumb.”

You roll your eyes, just relieved to see him smile. He's much more relaxed now, the mood in the room lifted with his laughter. All part of your plan. You're more than happy to appear ridiculous if it means seeing him laugh.

He finally stops laughing, though he’s still smiling a little as he lifts his head and looks at you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you try not to be too distracted by the freckles around his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks as his gaze flicks across your face. He’s looking at you intently, and the air in the room feels charged, electric almost.

“You…” he starts, but hesitates, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Why are you so dumb,” he repeats.

Wow. “Now who's being mean?” you pout.

He laughs again, but it’s softer than before, a shaky, nervous sound. “God, I— this is so stupid, I—”

He lets out a frustrated breath, staring directly into your eyes, his expression intense and focused. “How do you not notice,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re frozen under his gaze, your heart suddenly in your throat. “Notice… what?”

Felix closes his eyes. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

What? “It seems like it matters since you’re…”

He opens his eyes again, looking a bit pained as he looks at you. “Just… just forget it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, your hands shaking slightly. “Uh… okay,” you say. “Sorry for… being dumb…?”

He grimaces. “No, I didn't mean it like—”

He lets out a long, heavy breath, shaking his head. Then he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

His voice is quieter when he speaks, looking down, idly playing with your fingers. “Just… you’re supposed to notice,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “It’s supposed to be obvious.”

You stare at him, confused and flustered and… honestly, a little distracted by how he's touching your hand. “What's… uhh, what?” Everything feels like it's too much all of a sudden, and your chest is really starting to do something weird.

He sighs. “Nevermind. Seriously.”

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. “When we graduate,” he starts. “...Which I guess is really soon, huh.”

The way he says it makes your chest pang painfully. He’s still not looking at you. “I won’t see you anymore…” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him.

You grab his hand, stopping him from fiddling with your fingers, and squeeze gently. “Hey,” you say. “C’mon, it’s not like that.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Isn't it, though?”

It kind of feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. This isn't like him, he's usually the one full of sunshine and optimism, reassuring you. But right now, the defeat in his voice is palpable.

The reality of the situation starts sinking in. Time’s almost up.

“Felix,” you say quietly, and he finally lifts his eyes up from his lap to look at you. His eyes are watery again.

He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “Sorry, I’m being… I’m being unfair, I just…” He hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to not see you.”

You frown, tears pricking your eyes now too. You don't trust your voice to speak, throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“And you’re just… so oblivious,” he continues, his finger tracing over your knuckles. “So stubborn, and dumb, and you’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life and I seriously cannot believe I like—”

He cuts off suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Wait.

“Felix,” you murmur, and his eyes dart up to meet yours, a little panicked. He tries to jerk his hand away from yours, but you hold on tighter, keeping him in place.

“Felix,” you repeat, your skin buzzing from the way he’s looking at you. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that.”

He looks away, face a brilliant crimson red. “Yeah, I can.”

You almost want to laugh. You didn’t realize he could be so shy, but you can’t focus on that now, because your heart is racing and you can’t tell if you’re going to pass out, or pass away.

“No, you can’t,” you say shakily. “When are you gonna tell me? At the commencement ceremony?”

He lets out a half-choked, almost hysterical sort of laugh, keeping his head turned away so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Yeah, something like that.”

He has to be joking. “That’s months away!”

“And?”

You shake your head, feeling dizzy. “I’m not gonna wait that long, are you insane?”

He huffs and glares at you, pouting. “Oh, well I’m sorry, would you just rather I shout it from the fucking roof tops then? Hey, everyone, I’ve been in love with my best friend since freshman year!”

What.

You blink, stunned speechless, your eyes wide.

Your mind is spinning, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. The words in love keep ringing in your ears, over and over again.

“You— you what?” you manage to get out, feeling a little faint. You must not have heard him correctly. You're hallucinating, or having a stroke or… something. He can't actually mean—

Felix winces. “...Fuck.” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, brain still struggling to catch up to the situation. You’re still processing that he said the word love, when the last few words register.

“Wait— freshman year?” you say incredulously. “You’ve— since—?”

He’s clearly trying to act somewhat composed but the bright red on his ears betrays him. “Um. Yeah. Shut up. Stop talking,” he says, voice muffled from behind his hands.

You think about the past few years of your life, every interaction with him, and it’s like everything suddenly clicks into place.

The way his ears turn pink whenever you compliment him. The way you could always get under his skin so easily. You think about every time he got defensive, or huffy, or pouty at something innocuous you did or said.

…The way he's never really shown interest in anyone, despite the plenty of interest shown his way. The countless people he's turned down, for seemingly no reason. When you'd questioned him about it, he'd just laughed awkwardly and said he preferred to focus on his studies.

“Oh my god,” you say again.

Felix groans and hides his face further, his ears practically on fire. “Stop. Don't,” he mutters. “It's okay. Just… pretend you never heard that, okay, it's fine—”

“No.”

It’s silent for a moment, Felix still hiding his face, and your mind still swirling with thoughts.

You kind of want to kiss him.

The realization is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. It’s not really a surprise, honestly, just another thing that feels natural. Maybe because deep down, of course somewhere along the line you've developed feelings for the person you can trust with anything, who gets you more than anyone else. Your favorite person in the world.

You’re only half in your right mind as you grab his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

“You ass,” you say, staring directly at him.

He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I'm sorry—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Can I kiss you?”

He chokes, eyes going even wider. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly caught off guard. After a moment, he manages to find his voice, though it’s very high pitched and shaky. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Can I kiss you,” you repeat, your head feeling fuzzy, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“…What?” he asks again. His face is bright red. “Are— are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you murmur, leaning even closer, your faces almost touching.

His breath catches, and his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips. “Please say you’re not,” he manages to say, voice breaking.

“I’m not,” you say, feeling a little crazy. Insane, maybe. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Can I?”

He doesn't give you an answer, letting out an incredulous breath before grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward as he falls back so you land on top of him.

You’re about to protest at the continued lack of a clear answer, but then he’s kissing you and you forget how to speak.

It's not the most graceful kiss, you’re both a little clumsy, but it’s sweet and it’s Felix and that’s all that really matters. You figure it out quickly, getting into a rhythm, and he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. You feel like you’re dreaming, or drowning, or both.

Felix is kissing you. Felix is kissing you. Your closest friend. He’s in love with you, and he’s kissing you.

It makes your head spin. After several moments, you finally pull away, panting and dizzy. You feel a little delirious, staring down at him, both of you catching your breath.

His head falls back against the pillow, face turning impossibly red as he blinks at you like he’s in shock. You laugh a little and he huffs, but his eyes soften.

“So… you, uh— You— Are you—?”

You cut him off with another touch of your lips, effectively shutting him up. He instantly melts into it, tightens his grip in your hair, pulling you further into the kiss, and you can’t think straight, everything is just Felix.

After a while, you’re forced to break away again for air. Felix whines at the loss of contact, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed. You only manage to get a few breaths in before he's pulling you down into another kiss, more urgently this time.

You let out a surprised noise, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He seems to be determined to kiss you senseless, and it’s working.

He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. He mumbles something in response, his thigh sliding between your legs, and your brain short-circuits.

Okay. You shiver. Okay. You should probably… You manage to pull away for a much needed breath and Felix tries to chase after your mouth, but you press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

He groans, looking frustrated, but flops back against the pillow obediently. He blinks at you dazedly, his own chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dark, but his expression quickly morphs into a pout. “Why… Why…?” he complains, trying to tug you closer again.

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head, and he gives you a wide-eyed look, all innocence and sweetness, and that's not fair that he can look like this after all of that.

“Just— one sec,” you somehow get out, your mind still completely overloaded. “We should… uh…”

He’s still trying to reach your mouth. “What,” he mutters, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Talk,” you manage to say, even as his lips make their way to your jaw. “We should… we need to… oh my god—”

You cut off, stifling a gasp as he sucks on your skin. “Felix,” you say, trying to be stern, but it comes out like a moan instead.

“Mm?” he hums against your ear, completely unapologetic. “You want to… talk?”

“Yeah.” It takes all your willpower to pull away, ignoring how he whines in protest. You sit up and take a moment to compose yourself, willing yourself to ignore the urge to just give in to him.

Felix flops back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he sighs, his voice sounding a little raspy.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his ears red. “Sorry, god, I've thought about this so much, I just—”

Oh. “You’ve… thought about…? How much…?”

He makes a strangled noise and covers his face more thoroughly, voice muffled. “Oh my god,” he groans, “I'm going to fucking die. I… a lot.”

…Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay.

“...How much is a lot?” you ask, unable to resist your curiosity. And maybe you want to tease him about it. Just a little.

He groans again. “So, so much. An embarrassing and pathetic amount.” He’s not even trying to hide his pouting. “Can you please not make me say the actual words.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but the way he sounds — breathless and embarrassed — it’s honestly kind of adorable. He’s always so confident in most aspects of his life that you kind of love seeing him so flustered.

“Please… don’t,” he mumbles, peeking at you. “I’m begging you…”

He's blinking up at you, the picture of innocence once again. He glances up at you through his eyelashes, all pretty and delicate and ugh, he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

“You’re distracting,” you say weakly, staring down at him. “Stop making cute faces at me.”

He does not stop making cute faces. He tries though, lowering his hands as his face drops into a scowl. “I’m not making a cute face,” he protests.

“Yeah, you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing it right now. Your pouty thing.”

He sniffs. “I'm not,” he says petulantly, though there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is just my regular face. It’s not my fault if my face is cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off with a finger, placing it over his lips. His mouth instantly snaps shut, and you can’t resist a little grin as he looks up at you with wide eyes.

You watch as he swallows, his eyes fixed on you, and, not for the first time, you’re reminded of how pretty he is. He’s always been gorgeous, in an objective sort of way, but you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time.

You move your hand away and take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You need to talk about this while you’re both still somewhat coherent, or you’ll go absolutely insane.

“So…” You’re a little pleased with how steady your voice is, considering the circumstances. “You… love me.”

Felix coughs and covers his face again. “Do you have to say it like that,” he groans, his voice muffled by his palms.

“You never… you never said anything.”

He just shrugs, still hiding his face. “I was scared to lose you,” he says with a shaky breath. “I didn’t expect you to want me back…” There's no bitterness in his tone, just disbelief.

You frown. “But you’re—” You bite your tongue. Felix was worried about you not wanting him?

You shake your head, a somewhat acrid feeling welling up inside of you. You've seen firsthand the sheer amount of attention he gets from people, from the random gifts and outright confessions and people slipping him numbers and notes everywhere he goes. There's never been a shortage of interest in him, from all sorts of people. Compared to him, you're… nothing.

“So… this whole time, you just… thought I was clueless?” You're still trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighs. “I mean, kind of,” he says, his eyes peeking through his fingers. “You’ve been completely oblivious to anyone who’s ever flirted with you.”

Including me, he doesn't say, but you're starting to put the pieces together.

You wince, your face flushing. “I’m not that oblivious,” you protest weakly. “I just… I’ve never been particularly interested in… anyone.”

Felix stares at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Like…” It's true that you've never really liked anyone very strongly in all your time at college. Some fleeting crushes here and there, but even the few people you had tried to go on dates with always felt lacking in some inexplicable way. You always felt much better as soon as you'd come home to your shared space with Felix, always feeling the most comfortable in his presence. Was that it? All this time, no one could ever compare to your best friend?

And the constant attention Felix would get… It annoyed the hell out of you. At first, you would tease him, even encourage him to give them a chance, delight in the way his face would turn bright red. But it quickly became so annoying watching him have to navigate awkward conversations, politely turn people down. Sure, a part of you was probably a bit insecure always watching him receive so much attention. At least, that's what you told yourself. But beyond that, you think you're finally starting to understand the feeling for what it is.

Jealousy.

“Oh my god.” You’re starting to realize what a mess this entire situation is. “We're both idiots.”

Felix finally drops his hands from his face, giving you a dry look. “Speak for yourself.”

"Shut up," you say absently, not even annoyed. Your head is reeling.

This is… a mess. Felix is in love with you, you’re pretty sure the feeling has been mutual for a while, and you’re both leaving this place in just a few months.

“So… you’ve never liked anyone before?” Felix asks. His tone is a bit teasing, though there's curiosity beneath.

You make a face. “Um.” Yeah, that's what you thought for the past couple years until now. How much do you reveal?

All of the puzzle pieces are clicking into place in your mind, making your head hurt even more. So much time wasted, you want to cry.

“I guess no one ever compared to you,” you say without thinking, and immediately slap your hand over your face.

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence as you both process the words.

Then, Felix starts laughing.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, struggling to contain himself, barely managing to keep his laughter under control. Your face is growing redder by the second, embarrassed and annoyed.

“Will you stop?” you whine.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tries to get himself together, taking a deep breath before looking at you fondly. “This is the corniest fucking shit I've ever— holy shit. We're actually both stupid.”

“I told you,” you say, smacking him on the arm.

He just snickers, grabbing your wrist before you can hit him again. He pulls you so you’re half-lying on top of him again, and you can feel his shoulders shaking as if he’s trying to keep from bursting out into another fit of laughter.

You let your head fall against his chest with a huff, still annoyed even as he wraps an arm around you, his hand rubbing against your back.

“You jerk,” you mutter.

He hums, sounding amused. “You love me.”

You go rigid, and he starts to laugh again, obviously enjoying the fact that he found an easy way to fluster you.

“Shut up,” you grumble weakly, burying your face against him.

It isn't fair. He’s had time to fully realize it, years apparently. He’s had time to process everything. Meanwhile, you feel like you’ve been completely blindsided.

He finally stops laughing and you’re both quiet for a few moments. You can hear his heart drumming loud in his chest.

“Wow,” he says suddenly. “We could have avoided a lot of stress if we realized earlier.”

You let out a snort of semi-hysterical laughter. “I know,” you agree, before pausing and wincing. “Oh god, I can't believe we've been… that we've been living together…”

“Yeeeahh… That's been torture by the way,” he says conversationally, as if he's discussing the weather, and your cheeks flare up.

“...Torture?”

He squeezes your side. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself every day? Every time you wear my jacket, or… anything? Wearing those hoodies on movie nights—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, your face absolutely burning. “I get it, I’m—”

“Stupid?” he offers helpfully. “Oblivious? Cute?”

“...You never said anything,” you say weakly in an attempt to defend yourself.

“I wasn't going to make things awkward,” he protests. “Can you imagine if I’d actually said anything and you just… what? Said no? And then we have to keep living together like normal?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the guilt stirring in your stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine what it's been like from his perspective.

“...Sorry.” You shift so you can actually look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he pouts.

“You really didn't notice?” he asks, finally looking at you. “Even a little?”

“No.” You feel a frustrated sort of laugh bubbling up. “We’ve been so stupid. We could’ve… we’ve wasted so much time, years—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, seeing your expression, sitting up and gently placing his hand on your cheek, and you stop abruptly. “It doesn’t matter,” he says reassuringly. “We have time, okay? Plenty of time.”

You’re still struggling with the whole situation, trying to process everything as you stare at him. “But… we’re graduating.”

He gives you a small, unsure smile. “Yeah. We are.”

"And… I don't even know where I'm going. We could be—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, placing a finger gently on your lips, and you bite your tongue, looking down at him. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You try to take a deep breath and he leans forward until his forehead is touching yours.

Your mind is still racing, your entire universe is completely tilted, and you’re not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. But Felix is close and his hand is still on your cheek and…

And you want to focus on that instead, ignore everything else for now.

“Yeah?” you say weakly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more firm, and he brings his other hand up to cup your face.

“For now,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s just…” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his hands still gently framing your face. “Can we just…”

Your entire body feels a little shaky. You lean forward a bit, closing the distance, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he breathes before slanting his mouth against yours.

It’s not very decorous. You’re both a little desperate, a little uncoordinated, trying to make up for years of lost time.

It’s messy and you can feel that he’s still a little nervous — as are you — but he's also determined. He pulls you closer, one of his hands sliding into your hair, tugging gently in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

Then he suddenly pulls back after a few moments, laughing when you whine pathetically in protest.

“Shh, hang on,” he says, slightly out of breath, and you open your eyes dizzily.

“...What?” you complain.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I… I just remembered that I…”

You watch, utterly befuddled, as he pushes against your shoulders so he can sit up. He gently lifts you off of him, answering your whine of protest with a quick kiss before his hand drifts away from your face, reaching for his phone.

You try to grab at him. “What are you doing—”

He laughs and dodges out of your reach. “Just gimme a second,” he says, turning his phone on as he settles back on the bed.

You sit there, feeling dazed and frustrated as he taps at his phone, his attention focused on the screen. After a few moments, he finally seems to finish what he’s doing, putting his phone down with a satisfied hum.

When he meets your eyes, he just looks amused at your expression. “Sorry, sorry,” he says with a grin, moving closer to you again.

“What was so important,” you pout.

“I was meant to meet with my group mates for our project tonight,” he says. “So, I told them I'm feeling sick.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Felix.”

He has the audacity to just smile innocently, already shifting so he can push you down against the sheets.

“What?” he says casually, hovering over you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “I wasn't gonna be able to focus anyways.”

“Oh.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. “Is… that really okay…?”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning down and pressing a light kiss into your neck. “I practically carry them anyway, they can live without me for one night.”

You swallow, feeling his hands slide up your arms, his touch leaving a trail of sparks along your skin. “Okay,” you agree, completely distracted now, your thoughts hazy.

“Mhm.” He sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone and you let out a shaky exhale. “Can we focus on something else right now?”

You nod. He moves up to kiss you and you know, with him, you'll figure out whatever comes next.

For now, that's enough.

—

a/n: me, a mech eng major.. ofc i had to make felix a fellow engineer. nerds 4 life (do not study engineering i crave death every moment)

also yes title is the coldplay song bc im actually uncreative as hell and name everything after songs. how do ppl come up with titles (T＿T) but anyway since it's one of felix's fav songs i thought it was especially fitting 🤍

tysm for reading 🫶

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yandere-romanticaa · 10 hours ago

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I'll probably delete this rant in a few hours but right now I'm just writing it down here because I don't have anyone to share it with irl because I feel sorta embarrassed about it.

I feel like I have a lot of love to share. A lot of love to give. I feel as though I have this massive bubble filled with love and want and desire deep within my soul but I don't have anyone to share it with. I've never had someone like that nor has anyone ever expressed any sort of interest in me in that way. I know that there were some guys in the past who thought that I was cute but that's really it.

I've absolutely no one to love. And I'm sort of getting tired of that.

My friends try to comfort me by telling me that this is a good thing. That this is wonderful actually, because I have never experienced the agony of heartbreak, the sorrow of knowing that all of your time and effort has been wasted into a person who you most likely will not ever speak to ever again. Break ups are messy, they are so beyond messy and painful and rarely ever are they easy to handle.

But their words don't offer me any comfort whatsoever. Why?

Because I feel as though I am a person who is dying of thirst watching another drown.

It's two sides of the same coin. Both are horrible and soul crushing but what brings me even more pain is how no one understands how I feel, nor do they even bother hearing me out. No one understands just how hollow I feel whenever someone tells me something like "you'll find the one when you least expect it!" or "don't worry about it, you are not missing out on much!"

Stop. Just stop.

I don't want to hear that, I am so fucking tired of hearing those words, over and over and over and over and over again. I am tired. I am so tired. I feel heartbroken and I don't even know why. All I know is that I just want someone to see me, to hear me. To just listen to me. Also, yes, I know that having a partner won't magically just fix all of my problems, of course not. That's not how the world works and I fully understand and comprehend that.

But god damn it all. I just want someone to hold me, to think that I'm pretty, to wipe my tears away and tell me that I'm acting like a clown. I want someone who'll love me and I want to love another so, so, so much. I am not a bad person, at least I don't think I am. I have a life, I go to school, I have friends whom I love and cherish, I have a family who will be there for me through thick and thin.

But none of them understand how I feel. None of them understand just how heavy my chest feels whenever I start to feel like this, how much pain it causes me. I just crave love, I crave it so much. But I am so scared that I will never find it. I've never experienced it before - why would anyone even bother with me?

I'm sorry for such a silly post. If you actually read this, I'd love to give you a hug. And if you somehow relate to this post, I am so sorry.

I'm sorry for such a weepy post. But I just wanted to shout into the darkness, to let out my feelings and frustrations. I just. I think I want to weep a little. Maybe more than a little.

#♥️ girlie says #delete later

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weird-is-life · 10 hours ago

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hi! could you do a reader x hotch. where they give him like a lolly or some candy bc they've noticed how stressed he's been lately? ty! ❤️

Hi lovely, ty for this request! I hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, grumpy Aaron,mentions of lunch/food, assistent!reader, reader wears heels, (0.9k)

Being Aaron's assistent for the last 6 month means you know his moods pretty well by now.

He's hired you because the paperwork was getting too much, and it meant he had to bring it home as well. Which wasn't good for him, and neither for the time he meant to spend with Jack.

So here you are sitting behind a desk, looking at frowny and grumpy Aaron. He looks like he's gonna throttle the first person that walks into his office.

Even the team is doing everything, anything to look productive. So you decide to be the brave one, and go ask Aaron if he wants lunch.

You knock on his door, "Hotch?" You tentatively peek inside his office. You called him Mr.Hotchner the first 2 months when he finally had enough of it, and asked you to call him Hotch.

Aaron looks up at you, question why you are bothering him in his eyes. He's definitely in ripping off heads mood today.

"Do you want something to eat? For lunch?" you ask softly with a bright smile. You are pretty sure that when you smile at Aaron like that his grumpy heart melts a bit.

"No." He says groggily, and his eyes go instantly back to the paperwork. He seems to be more grumpy than usual. You send him a little frown of your own, and closed his office door again.

Your heels click against the bau floors as you rush to get the lunch. Thirty minutes later you walk quickly to get back to the office.

You go straight back to your boss's office. You come in with a swift knock, and hurried greeting.

Aaron's head is still buried in the paperwork as you put the lunch in front of him. The smell of broccoli soup with the pasta makes Aaron pause.

"What's this?" he asks. Putting his pen down, and looking at you. Finally really looking at you.

He hasn't realised before, but you look very lovely today. More than lovely actually. He would almost feel bad for being so short with you earlier if he wasn't stressed with work already. He will save his guilt for later when he has the time for it.

"Your lunch," you smile at him, "take a break, and eat it, please Hotch." You want to make sure to avoid any heated words from him towards some incompetent people. But also you want to make sure he's okay.

"Too much work," he tells you, reaching back for his pen. Your hand is quicker, and you snatch the pen away, hiding it behind your back.

Aaron just rolls his eyes playfully, it's not like he doesn't have an entire package of pens stashed away in the desk drawer. But somehow he agrees, "fine."

"Great! I'll be at my desk if you need anything-" you turn around on your heel ready to leave.

"Stay," Hotch blurts out, and mentally curses himself at the same time. He doesn't know what made him say it, maybe it was your soft smile or the thoughtful lunch, but he asks you to stay.

"When I have to eat, at least eat with me. I'd feel bad about eating instead of working. But with you here we can say it's a business lunch." Really Hotchner? That's what you are going with? He almost slaps himself across his face.

"Oh. Okay, Hotch."

You sheepishly go sit down on his couch with the coffee table, and Aaron joins you a few moments later. You didn't expect to eat lunch with him.

You eat the first couple of bites in quiet, awkward quiet. It's not everyday that you eat lunch with your hot boss. In his office. With closed door. Alone. You just pray that you don't make a mess all over your white blouse in front of him. You wouldn't survive that.

"How did you know broccoli soup is my favourite?" Aaron finally breaks the silence, curiosity getting the best of him.

"I've seen you order it everytime you are in the restaurant with the team and me," you murmur. You notice things. It's like your thing, maybe especially with Aaron.

"Hmm, interesting," Aaron responds, and the conversation starts to go smoothly from there.

You ask him about Jack, he asks you about your puppy, and so on. You kinda wish you had more food just so you could talk longer with him. Aaron, unbeknownst to you, feels completely the same.

"I should probably let you get back to work, Hotch-"

"Aaron, you can call me Aaron over lunch," he interrupts you to tell you this.

You giggle,"only over lunch?"

"Yes, y/l/n. I'm still your boss," Aaron tells you, but you can see the amused sparks in his eyes, and the light twitch of his lips upwards.

"Gotcha, Hotch." Did you just say Hotch just to spite him? Maybe.

You are almost out of the door when you realise one more thing. "Och, I almost forgot!"

You pull out a small box, and put in in front of Aaron on the desk.

"What's this now?" He raises his brows in question.

"Candy. I thought you might need it," you simply state, and leave his office with a satisfied smile.

For the rest of the day you can see Aaron munching on the box full of candy, his face ten times less tense then before lunch. It makes the small smile being glued on your face for the rest of the day.

Aaron feels much better. But it isn't thanks to the lunch or the candies. It's because of a certain pretty assistent sitting a few meters outside of his office.......

#aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff

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bunni-v1 · 1 day ago

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Pls the thing with Jamil from your Yuu being wary of scarabia post and why he kept Yuu around like that. Elaborate I’m begging you it’s too interesting of a dynamic before and after. I can pay you in my adoration keep it up here!

🍓Okay so I really haven't touched twst in a long time, but this idea continues to haunt me. I think about it so frequently, and I've been into twst again because of Malleus statue, so I decided to revisit this concept. It's more of a big long ramble, but I do hope you like it <3

TW: Manipulation; Creepy behavior; Power imbalance; This IS written with implied romance (but it's pretty fucked up and toxic); Possessive behaviors; unedited

Info: Jamil x Reader; Angst

Disclaimer: Jamil is an incredibly complex character with very contradictory actions throughout the whole of book four. This is my take on his character, and it may not align with how you view him. It's important to note that the only canon interpretation of his character is what is in-game and official depictions.

Post referenced

Jamil is very aware of you far before you're aware of him. He makes it his job to know who to avoid, and you're very high up on that list. You have a reputation that he's pretty certain you're not fully aware of, and trouble seems to follow you wherever you go. It's not really something he wants to have to deal with.

For whatever reason, though, he does end up bringing you back to Scarabia. In part, this is almost a power play on his part. You make him have a sense of power he doesn't really have with anyone else around NRC, even as vice housewarden. You rely on him, and your naivety is something addicting to someone who craves power. Not to mention he also considers that you could help him sell his story much better.

Kalim abusing the magicless, helpless human from another world would only make his case for upheaval all the better amongst his dorm members. So to start it's all part of his plan, a means of stroking his ego.

However, the issue comes in when he makes a genuine connection with you. You are kind, generous, and understanding with no real ulterior motives -- a genuineness he hasn't really experienced before. Of course, he doesn't actually open up to you much. He keeps you pretty distant, despite how he does his best to play up that warm and welcoming persona. But he does give you crumbs of his real struggle, shrouded in manipulation.

He finds himself... attached. Jealous of any time you spend with Kalim, wanting to keep your attention on him, and desperate to sell the idea of Kalim as a monster to you more than others. It's an odd feeling for Jamil, who doesn't usually care for more than surface-level appearances and feelings. It's just another addition to his ultimate overblot, and he's quite terrifying when he does finally blot.

One of the very first things he does is isolate you from your "friends" (if you can count the tweels and Azul as friends at this point), making sure your attention is on him. He wants you to worship him, he wants that reliance that he craved so much in the time you spent together, he wants to feel powerful. Next to you, he feels so very powerful.

I don't even believe he would do anything violent or too cruel, mostly just worshiping and demanding attention and praise. It's not much different from what you normally go through, though a little less blatantly violent and aggressive. That's what makes it so awful to you, though.

Before everyone else was just blatantly being... evil. Jamil manipulated, lied, extorted, and so much more. You liked Jamil, you genuinely thought he wanted to be friends with you and meant well. He reveals otherwise in your time (sort of) alone with him, and it really shakes you up. It would shake anyone up.

What's worse is you don't have time to process all that terror and anger and betrayal. Everything happens in such quick succession, one moment you're being kidnapped and the next there's a grand celebration. It's all too much for your brain to process, and it only gets the chance to do so when Ace and Deuce -- your safe space -- come to get you.

Your reaction, on the surface, seems incredibly dramatic. Collapsing and sobbing until your throat is so raw you can't make noise, but after the trauma you've endured, it's wholly reasonable. Jamil falls into the former way of thinking, believing you're just being overdramatic and theatrical. You'd been through many overblots at this point, with much more powerful sorcerers... this reaction is a bit much...

After all's said and done, though, Jamil doesn't spare you much thought. Of course, there is a lingering sense of... something. Not quite guilt, not quite regret, just an ache that he doesn't have the time or energy to address himself. He's far too busy dealing with his own reputation and wellbeing to bother you.

Your sobs, though, they keep him up at night. He has dreams where he hears them tear through the silence, and they continue to ring in his ears long after he's woken up. He isn't sure why it's bothering him so much, it really shouldn't, but it does. It's a constant nag at his conscience, just a bug that he swats away when he doesn't want to think about it.

He doesn't have to confront it until he comes face to face with you during VDC auditions. The genuine terror on your face when he looks at you, like he might overblot then and there again, it's sobering. He'd seen that look a million times on his parents faces, horror as they face punishment from the Asim's. It's not a face he'd imagined he would be the cause of -- not a face he wanted to be the cause of.

It hits him hard in that moment just how... evil he was. He knew he was bad. He's fully aware he's selfish and the stunt he pulled was something unspeakable in a lot of ways. Yet, he never thought he would have to deal with someone looking at him like that, someone thinking of him the same way he thinks of his captors.

It's just his luck that he can't avoid you, ending up on the official VDC team and literally living in your space. It's not just you, either, both Ace and Deuce seem to hate his guts with a passion. Grim voices that anger all the time, and Kalim doesn't help the tension with his guilty puppy demeanor. You do end up forgiving Kalim, thanks to Kalim finally making an active effort by himself for once. Jamil won't lie and say it doesn't make him a little jealous, but he also fully understands he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.

He doesn't push or pull, he just allows you to do what you will. It's not his place to push or pull, you are the only person who can decide what you need. He won't apologize unless you seem to want him to by seeking him out, he won't ask for forgiveness unless you seem willing to give it to him. He just allows you to be, which is quite honestly the best reaction you've gotten from any former overblotees.

He, of course, ends up confessing this all to his sister. Heavily edited and censored, for her own wellbeing. Najma tells him he's a moron, but encourages him to make amends with you, or at least try to let you know he's sorry. Without him knowing, she even talks to you about it a bit when you visit the Scalding Sands. There is a notable shift in your comfortability around him after it, though he doesn't know why this is.

He does eventually get the chance to talk to you, though you have to approach him. It's a quiet night when it happens, and he just couldn't sleep and the warm air in the dorm was making his skin far too hot, so he takes a walk and ends up outside of your dorm. His guilt led him there like an idiot, a rare show of vulnerability.

You, who also couldn't sleep, saw him out there and invited him despite better judgment. He accepts, despite his own better judgment, and finally, you talk. He expects anger and hatred, but of course, you cannot manage that even against him. You are understanding and gentle, even with the way you tremble as you speak. He gets to apologize, genuinely, for scaring you and doing the things he did. Explains that he, at some point, was genuine about his friendliness with you. That he did like having you around, but all of that means nothing with what's already happened.

Whether or not you two fix things and are able to be friends is up to you, but you do both get closure.

#bunni's treats 🧁#x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil x reader #twst jamil #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #twisted wonderland jamil

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iiheartarc · 2 days ago

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MY TAKE ON THE CAITVI DISCOURSE

total wordcount: 1591

I will say that I've briefly commented on their dynamic in the past, but it was worded really badly so I feel like I need to defend my writing skills a little bit as well with this, but that's just a sidenote. 💀

I think what a lot of people are missing when people do criticise CaitVi is that they aren't necessarily hating on the ship, it's what writing choices have done to it.

I'm not even going to even say I'm a CaitVi hater, I'm not (S1 CaitVi my beloved, you deserved better), but I do think the choices that writers made this season heavily effected how audiences portrayed the ship, even including myself.

Idk I hope this insight might give some people more perspective on why CaitVi became so hated in this season, people rlly need to start looking at both sides and not taking criticism as a personal attack. It really could've been avoided too if the writers had added more time or extended the series onto a third season, but that's another issue on its own.

1. Caitlyn hits Vi

I really don't get why people are so quick to defend Caitlyn on this one, especially considering the amount of hate Vi got when she hit Powder. Are both inexcusable? Yes. But I do think that the situation is a little different when it's a fifteen year old child who had just witnessed the death of her entire family and a twenty something year old woman who took out her anger and grief on the woman she loved because she blocked her shot.

I do think that people also do ignore the immense amount of trauma that Caitlyn suffered at the hand of Jinx, but unlike when Vi 'abandoned' Powder, (again, that's a whole other conversation, we know she was not abandoned), Vi was not that direct source of anguish to Caitlyn the way Powder was to Vi. (Pls lmk if you want me to expand further on this)

Again, not excusing Vi hitting Powder, I'm pointing out the differences.

It's then also incredibly tone deaf when Caitlyn hits her on two more occasions with the same gun, the third time being played off as a joke. It really doesn't come off well, especially when Vi had been a victim of police-brutality even before the abuse she faced at the hands of the enforcers in Stillwater.

And then, even after all this, it's never addressed. It's brushed over, like Vi's entire trauma in the show, the most we get is Caitlyn brushing her hand over Vi's abdomen in the cell scene. Again, can be taken as an apology, but I think that for some very specific things (like hitting your romantic partner), verbal apologies do need to be made in order to communicate healthily and somewhat build a healthier relationship.

I don't really want to talk about the abusive implications of this, because I don't think I'm someone who can talk about it with a full understanding because that's something I've fortunately never been through, but the blatant disregard and shunning of abuse survivors when they pull up the red flags raised because of this is disgusting. In real life, or if it had even been someone else in the show, if the ship had been a heterosexual relationship, people would call Caitlyn an abuser and would be outraged that Vi had been paired with her in the end. But I digress.

1. The cell sex scene

Initially I hadn't been too bothered about this when I had first watched the episode, but when you really think about it, it shouldn't have happened. Hell, they could've had sex in Caitlyn's office and half of the criticism wouldn't have happened, the ship wouldn't be so hated and the fandom wouldn't be half as divided as it is now (from what I've seen).

First and foremost, the cell.

All I can say is wtf. It was such a poor choice it's actually unfathomable to me now. I don't know why the writers thought that it'd be a good idea for Caitlyn and Vi to have their first time in a jail cell, not only the one Jinx had been locked in, but the one Vi had herself been locked in for what we can assume to be hours. The place of her abuse should not be somewhere where the writers could possibly think would be a suitable for a victim to have such an intimate moment with her partner.

Then there's the fact that Vi had looked to have had some sort of breakdown, we see she's sh and there are literal crates in the wall from where she punched it as well as her knuckles bleeding. As soon as she sees Caitlyn, there's a parallel to when they first met, to when Vi is quite literally caged. She's clearly not in the right state of mind, and so when the scene eventually happens it inevitably comes off as wrong because Vi is incredibly emotionally vulnerable in that moment.

"But Vi initiated it!" That still doesn't make it okay. I do think that this also came with an issue of timing, but then again, as I mentioned earlier, it literally could've been in the office as they argued and it would've been recieved so much better then the cell scene was. Vi wasn't breaking down, she wasn't locked in a reminder of the abuse she faced and her sister hadn't just ran off to do goodness knows what (in Vi's POV, us as the audience know exactly what she's about to do). They could've even have it fade to black and cut to the next scene tangled in bed doing whatever they would've been doing in the cell, Vi would assumably have had time to calm down, would be having sex in a warm and safe environment, and guess what? The audience would've been even happier.

Sure there would've been criticism, but Vi could literally save a thousand babies and adopt them all and still face hate, because a lot of the hate is being directed to Vi too because of the situation with Jinx. That, again, is a whole other situation.

3. "Dirt Under Your Nails"

Again, for the love of god, there can be so many takeaways from this sentence but do not be surprised that people didn't like it. I didn't, it made me cringe horribly.

And before people throw 'media literacy is dead', this whole post (practically essay), is analysing a piece of media that I love. To be literate, you can draw different interpretations and conclusions and that's exactly what I'm doing. It's like saying literacy is dead if two people were to disagree on what the meaning of Macbeth's quote 'I am in blood' meant.

I digress.

I think the main issue here is the class difference between Vi and Cait. Caitlyn is from the aristocracy, a direct heir to a position of power in Piltover, while Vi is lower class, effected indefinitely by growing up in poverty. Even though she grew up as Vander's kid, they were still 'scraping for scraps'. The wealth margin between the two is almost immeasurable, and with the difference in money comes a difference in experiences, as we - the audiences - know.

It especially comes off wrong considering the class tensions and political themes heavily focussed on within the first season. The conflict between Piltover and Zaun, the abuse of power and exploitation of Zaunites by both topside and the chembarons, the prevalence of police brutality on the streets of the Undercity. Again, Vi is someone who is directly effected by this, while Caitlyn came into this blissfully naïve. She did learn yes, and in s1 she was so determined to help, but when then this progress reverts into her calling zaunites 'animals' and using the grey as a weapon, it again makes Vi's words feel uncomfortable.

Again, I think this was a massive timing issue, I would've love to see Caitlyn succumb fully to a villain arc. It would've been so interesting to delve into.

I think Vi has always had the image of herself that she'll always be viewed as less by Piltover, that she herself views herself as less. She says it herself to Vander in s1 ep2 while they're on the bridge, "I grew up knowing I'm less than them." So when she then says as her final words in the show, "I'm the dirt under your nails" obviously, that's going to come across as tacky.

People are free to think of romantic connotations for this, I won't stop you, but when you think about how the show was so focussed on class tensions, police brutality, oppression and exploitation, it doesn't come off right. Idk, that's what got me so interested with the show in the first place, the way these themes were explored so deeply but subtly in a way that didn't feel forced, so Vi's words really rubbed me the wrong way.

Conclusion

So I hope everyone that read somewhat gets where I'm coming from, this was my attempt to try and explain what I think needed to be, badly. Again, you can like the ship, I'm not saying I don't, but it also needs to be acknowledged that there is so many things that could've been worked on properly, done properly or addressed properly, and ignoring criticism won't help these issues to be fixed in the future.

Feel free to ask any questions and thanks for reading this long ass rant :)

#vi arcane #arcane vi #arcane s2 #arcane netflix #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #this is not anti caitvi #caitvi #I miss s1 caitvi chat ☹️☹️#bring back the scene from s1 ep 8 #where was that caitvi in s2 😔😔#this was so long omfg #if only i was this passionate about my assignments #let alone my epq 💀💀#sixth form is kicking my assss 😝 (send help)

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lesbianherald · 1 day ago

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oh your jayce analysis was !!!!!! ty for sharing! could I ask for your thoughts on his character and the class conflict in s2.1 when he decides to make hextech weapons again? like after the bridge scene and meljayvik talking about weapons, at the very end of s1, jayce gives viktor, a zaunite, his chair, the symbol of his position and authority as a councilor of piltover, and had asked him to announce the brokered peace. ands I loved that development !! but jayce chooses to weaponize hextech after the attack at the memorial (tho maybe cait convinced him) and he still doesn't seem to get it imo? like he's still very naive and ignorant (and slightly biased), he canttt understand the consequences of putting hextech-powered weapons in the hands of pilt enforcers (even if it's only caits group). and then and then vik sees his weapon prints and the rift between them is back even stronger than ever and I think that's why he leaves jayce?

(typingr this out on my work break with 2 min left sorry if this doesn't make sense. anyway don't think I've seen anyone really go into depth on him choosing hex weaponry again, so idk if my fellow jayviks just don't want to address it or if I'm misinterpreting altogether)

No no i love this.

I actually, controversially, think Jayce making weapons works really well in act 1. He just gets attacked with a fucking chainsaw. He witnesses so much horror and carnage. He's still very much baby at this point. Like he's still relatively sheltered. I think this rattled him a lot. It's clear he does not want to. But I think he's traumatized and I think the incident makes him regress. And I think little regressions like this are actually really important in character development? Unfortunately becacause its season 2 that doesn't actually go anywhere or mean anything.

What I do not like is how little that's acknowledged in his fight with Viktor. You're telling me Viktor briefly glancing at some blueprints is enough? Please ! But I'm not one of those people that feels Jayce's regression there was completely unearned. I've seen a lot about how he should have gotten way more covered in blood during the chainsaw attack and the scene should have been more gruesome overall. I agree and I think that would really help pinpoint and explain his trauma. I wonder what happened there. It seems very unlike fortiche to spare us the gory details.

What I personally despise is the way that hextech weaponry is used in the finale with this sort of obscene amount of nonchalance that makes it seem like it was never an issue in the first place and essentially narratively tells the audience that hextech weaponry was the answer all along. That I hate and I don't see talked about enough.

Also thank you !!!!

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dyns33 · 3 days ago

Text

Anything goes

I started another Cooper Howard's story and I'll be honest, it's hard for me to complete it, but I'll do my best !

Y/N had become little Janey Howard's babysitter several months after her parents' divorce.

Before that, her father and mother always found time to take care of her when the other was working, or they would entrust her to their governess.

This was no longer possible for Mr. Howard, who had to pay alimony to his ex-wife, while having a lot of trouble getting new roles because of the rumors surrounding him.

It was said that he was close to the Reds, that he was a traitor, even though he was a war hero, and the face of Vault Tech. He would have used this position and his wife's to obtain information and sell it to the Chinese.

Nothing had been proven, but it could explain the breakup, as well as the time it took to find a good babysitter. Many women were afraid to ring Mr. Howard's doorbell, not wanting their reputation to be tarnished, or wondering if the man had other dark secrets that could put them in danger.

There were also those who wanted to get closer to him to get information that they could sell to journalists, or have their names in celebrity magazines.

Y/N didn't care about all that. She needed a second job to pay her rent, she liked children, was discreet, and hadn't really heard about all these stories before Mr. Howard brought them up during their interviews.

Seeing that she didn't understand at all what he was referring to and that she was a trustworthy person, he was ready to give her the job. But first, Janey also had to validate her.

It was love at first sight with this child. Y/N had already babysat, and she had never met a little girl as cute, as lively and as endearing. She only had to say hello and give her her name for Janey to give her the most beautiful smile in the world, asking if she wanted to play with her and her dog, Roosevelt.

"I would need you on Wednesday afternoons, weekends and sometimes for several days but I will let you know in advance. Does that suit you ?"

"Perfect, Mr. Howard."

"Cooper, please. My father was Mr. Howard. Unless it makes you uncomfortable, I would understand. And if someone bothers you… Tell me."

At first, Y/N thought he was talking about his fans, his detractors, the paparazzi. Indeed, there were quickly new rumors, claiming that they were having an affair. Maybe even before the divorce, when they didn't even know each other at the time.

It took several months for Cooper to admit to her that he was mainly talking about the Vault Tech employees. He had signed a confidentiality agreement, in order to have the right to continue seeing his daughter and so he couldn't say anything concrete, but he knew things. They weren't nice.

"They might contact you." he told her while pouring himself a drink, after going to see the little girl who was sleeping peacefully. "To offer you money to find secrets or to ask you to leave. Being able to take care of Janey is another condition, and they are good at scaring away the babysitters."

"I'm sorry, Cooper. Don't worry, I'm staying. You'd be lost without me, and I love Janey."

"She loves you too." he smiled, looking at her with sparkling eyes, placing his hand on hers.

Since the divorce, he saw few people apart from his daughter, Y/N and people linked to the small jobs he managed to find, minor roles or entertainment at birthday parties.

There were still a few more or less loyal friends. One of them was Sebastian Leslie. Of course, he was also afraid of reprisals, but he had already sold his voice for the dubbing of all the Mr. Handys, ensuring him a pretty fortune.

His visits were rare, but he came with gifts for the prettiest girl in the world, and flowers for the most patient person ever.

"Miss Y/N, of course, who deserves all our respect for being in your presence so often and not having lost her mind yet."

"As always, you are hilarious."

"I've heard things, but now that I see you, wonderful Y/N, I know it's impossible. You can do much better."

"Thanks, Seb." Cooper sighed, patting Y/N on the shoulder in apology for the nonsense.

She didn't mind people thinking they were together. First, because people were stupid. And most of all, because she wouldn't have minded if it were true. She liked Cooper.

Sure, he was a little older than her, but he was charming. Funny, smart, kind. When they were all together with Janey, they sometimes did activities that made them seem like a family.

But she wasn't family. His marriage had had a difficult end, he had trouble paying her some months, and if he wasn't completely depressed yet, it was because he didn't want to lose his daughter.

It was a surprise when Mr. Leslie came knocking on her door, urgently asking her to follow him, without really giving an explanation. Sweating, worried, he mumbled incoherent things, when he wasn't yelling at his driver to go faster.

Still unclear, he took her arm to put a pitboy on her. Y/N had already seen them on television, or worn by well-dressed, very important, rich people.

"If you're asked, my dear, you are my adorable niece, my only heiress, with whom I insist on living the renovation of the world."

"… What ?"

"I know you're not an actress, but I hope that hanging out with the best of us has helped you a bit in this area. You'll have to be convincing, even if I'll be talking most of the time."

"Mr. Leslie…"

"Uncle Seb. Or Bastien."

"I don't understand anything at all, you don't…"

"Listen to me." he said very seriously, squeezing her wrist. "We don't have much time. They're going to blow everything up. I know Barb is going to take measures for her daughter, I know it. I can't do anything for Cooper, but he loves you very much, so this, I can do for him. At least the little girl will have someone sane to take care of her afterwards."

"What the hell are you talking about ?! Where are Cooper and Janey ?!"

All his attempts to calm her down seemed in vain, Sebastien ended up giving her a sedative, with the help of his driver. No doubt she was transported to the shelter while she was sleeping, put in a hibernation box next to her "uncle".

A very nice robot sounding like him was the first thing she saw when she woke up.

He cheerfully announced to her that she had been sleeping for over 200 years, that her uncle had unfortunately passed away, having woken up long before her, but having left a message for her.

"My dear niece, thank you for your patience and your trust. We always hear funny and stupid things these days, like the fact that I can no longer offer you flowers. But they are growing outside, I hear. And a little girl is waiting somewhere. There are fewer eyes when it's dark."

The message wasn't hard to decode. An apology, first, but mostly the assertion that it was possible to get out of the shelter without too much danger, if she waited for the right moment. Apparently, Janey Howard hadn't been placed in Vault 93.

Getting out wasn't that complicated. In fact, Y/N didn't even have to play the secret agent, she asked Mr. Handy, who passed her request to the overseer, who accepted it without resistance. She was able to take food, clothes and a weapon, before leaving, receiving encouragement from everyone, even if they didn't see who she was at all.

In any case, she was one less mouth to feed.

The real problem was surviving outside, and finding Janey. Y/N was not a fighter. She understood that there had been nuclear explosions, that the world was destroyed, now populated by dangerous creatures and unbalanced survivors.

But there were still good people. A woman showed her the way to Los Angeles, or what was left of it. A man advised her to avoid the North, explaining to her what the Raiders and the Deathclaws were.

And a strange couple offered to accompany them, to prevent her from being killed in her sleep or because of the mines.

Well, the young woman offered, smiling and polite, dressed like the inhabitants of the shelter and wearing a pitboy. She seemed genuinely delighted to meet someone like her, murmuring that it would be a change from her grumpy friend.

The said companion clearly did not come from a shelter. The radiation had dug into his skin. Y/N had heard of them, these ghouls. This one wasn't very talkative, his face half hidden by a cowboy hat, staring at her with a strange, almost shocked look.

"Don't pay attention to him, he's not good with people." said the girl whose name was Lucy. "I don't even know his name. We had a rough start, but he's calm now. We're a team !"

"Oh. Okay. Nice to meet you."

Lucy shook her hand. The Ghoul continued to look at her without saying anything, before continuing on his way. For the girl, it was a good sign, he hadn't ordered her to leave or caught her with his lasso.

Since things had changed, Y/N accepted that this could indeed be good news, but she followed them mostly because she didn't really have a choice.

#fallout #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul

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solacescastleglow · 2 days ago

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You're Not Lazy, You're: A Daydreamer

So, you're addicted to daydreaming, to the point where you're putting aside important real life things in favour of talking to yourself. You're sitting there, watching life pass you by, desperately trying to fill the void with people you made up in your head. Your outer life is starting to look less and less like how you thought it would be, and the worst part is, there's nothing and no one to blame.

I've been there. In fact, when I was 12, it was so bad I literally didn't care at all about my family, I had no friends, and my grades were abysmal, but I was convinced I would be fine because 'at least I have my mind'. What I didn't realise was that I had lost control of even that. Now I still daydream, but I've become much more able to cope, and I can work around it to the point it no longer affects my day-to-day life. What was maladaptive daydreaming has become immersive daydreaming. If you're in the same situation, here are a few tips to get out of that hole for good.

(Remember, this is much easier said than done, so don't feel bad if this doesn't start helping right away. Also, this is not a substitute for therapy.)

Less daydreaming

1. Eliminating the need

I'm gonna be honest, this is the hardest part. Your daydreaming came about for a reason; it's kept you alive and safe for all this time. Daydreaming is a coping mechanism. The problem comes when it becomes your only or primary coping mechanism, and your comfort zone becomes so small that you're using it all the time. Start with the negative things in your life that caused you to start daydreaming. What are they? How can they be mitigated or resolved? What are some other coping tools you can use to get through them? For me, a big part of the reason was unchangeable (untreatable illness), but some of it could have something done about it. I started medication for my mental health, switched schools, went to therapy. Am I cured? No. Did it take a long time? Yes. But was it worth it? Absolutely.

2. Attention span and comfort zone work

Now that your negative situation is ameliorated, it's time to work on getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. When you don't daydream after a certain amount of time or coming across a trigger, you start to get restless and irritable. You're, unfortunately, just going to have to sit in that emotion for a little bit. Just 5 minutes. If the trigger is media or a conversation topic, try your absolute hardest not to let your mind wander. After that 5 minutes or when the conversation is over, you can excuse yourself to go daydream. Doing this repeatedly will slowly make your brain able to go longer between daydreaming sessions, which means you can function better in your outer life.

3. Don't limit daydreaming, expand your outer life

If you're anything like me, the thought of stopping completely makes you panic. This isn't a great sign overall, but if you feel terrible whenever you don't escape, it disincentivises you from living your life. Instead, start surrounding yourself with people: spending every evening with your housemates, having an accountability partner for work, going on walks in public. The self consciousness alone is usually enough for me to not daydream, so basically I'm just giving myself less time to drift off. Bonus points if it's an activity that gets you where you want or need to go.

4. Grounding

I know, I know. It's uncomfortable when you know that's what you're doing. I personally hate the 54321 method. But you know what does work for me? This one TikTok (I can't find it) where the lady in the video tells you to look at the corner of the screen and tell what time it is, then asks questions like 'what's to the left of the screen?' and 'what are you wearing?' That snaps me right back to the present. The moment you notice yourself drifting off, look at a clock. Then look down at what you're wearing. Then take a second to describe what you're seeing to yourself and do some kind of tactile stimulation (rubbing your hands together or tapping your lap, for example).

More doing

1. Life direction audit

Your daydreams are clues to what you want out of life. Use them to guide how you want your outer life to go:

How does daydreaming make you feel? How can you emulate that without daydreaming?

Related to your daydream self's career, how does it make you feel to think of yourself getting paid to do that in your outer life? What steps can you take to get yourself there, or closer to it?

What can you do to cultivate friendships that are meaningful to you on the same level as your daydream friends? If you have outer friends, what's the most realistic scenario that would play out if you said, "I need more (support/connection/in-person time) out of this relationship"?

Are there any significant personal differences between your daydream self and your outer self? Are you a different gender, do you have a different style of dress, do you have any skills or hobbies you don't actually have? Is there anything that you would do, if only you had the [time/money/energy/certainty that this is the right thing to do/ability to get through hard things]?

Based on what you've written down, make a 10 year plan, then from that a 5 year plan, then from that a 1 year plan. Once you have your yearly plan you have options: split it up into quarters, months, weeks, or some other way. Either way, eventually you'll want to get it down to what you can do on a daily or even hourly basis to make your daydream self your reality.

2. Do it daydreaming, but do it

Now, do it. Sounds way easier than it is, but when I say do it, I mean do it any way you can. Do it upset, complaining, bored, frustrated, scared, badly, adapted to fit your abilities, in a way other people think is weird, crying the whole time, late, embarrassed, inconsistently, from your bed. Do it partway, then decide you want something else out of life. Do it when it's easy, and if you really want it, do it when it's hardest. Do something similar to it if what you want is unattainable. You can even do it with one foot in your daydream world.

As long as you're trying to do what makes you happy (and I mean the real kind of happy, not the kind that's always tinged with the grief that it's all in your head), any amount of effort you put into it is worthwhile.

3. Incentives

I was going to say to follow your plan and not your mood, but that's really hard. What you need is to find a way to make yourself follow that plan happily. For me, that's setting difficult monthly challenges for myself and getting rewards if I complete them. The challenge makes me want to do it because I want to prove my inner critic wrong. Do whatever works for you, because even if it sounds silly, it's not silly if it works.

4. Check ins

Every so often, re-evaluate where you're going. I know I just said to do it bored and frustrated, but if the whole thing is boring and frustrating and there are no upsides, don't keep at it. Check that you're actually happy with the direction your life is going.

---

And that's all I have for you. Remember, daydreaming can still be a healthy part of your life, it's the inability to stop it that's the problem. You can learn to balance it. I believe in you.

#you're not lazy #maladaptive daydreaming #actually maladaptive #maladaptive daydreamer #madd #actually madd #productivity #that girl #it girl #girlblogging #hell is a teenage girl #girl rotting #bed rotting #op

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avaredava · 9 hours ago

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Okay so I'm a stoner. My husband is a stoner. We often (everyday) fuck (like whores) while high so thats where these thoughts come from.

Let's imagine Suguru.

Best friend Suguru. You smoke all the time together. You're bitching about these men not giving good head. He disagrees. Skip to being on your back, legs spread open and pushed back. Suguru is feasting while you smoke a joint.

Plug!Suguru, but you've probably known each other for a year. He just gets the best bud. You always share a joint - his treat, always free. But man you're so thankful. Skip to being on your knees, between his legs as he sits on the couch, maybe smoking, maybe taking pictures (if you like that, i sure do) while you throat him.

Am I a whore? Hopefully yes.

Kisses ❤️❤️

EEK thats literally such beautiful writing *i say as i slowly pull out my meat* (I'm a girl)

This is the first request and this is the second

୨୧・・・・୨୧

MDNI

Master list's

⯌ Sum

Stoner Suguru and his best friend little miss "I swear to god getting eaten out doesn't feel good!" and he might want to change your mind or head I guess you can say (pun intended)

⯌ Wc

1.2k

⯌Warnings

Drug use (weed), quick eat out with another guy that was lowkey cringe and not good at it, Suguru takes things into his own hands, oral!fem rec, clit stimulation, doing most of it high, some bondage, ate out on the bed in his room, pulling suguru's majestic hair 😖, they are high most of the time, so a shit ton of smoking, fingering, after care

୨୧・・・・୨୧

"Suguru fucking Geto get your ass in here!"

That's what you say to him more than you would like to admit. He takes a bunch of things from you ranging from your weed stash and your other pills to your panties and bras.

He came into your room with the whites of his eyes a bit red. Obvious of what he took. The idiot couldn't lie. "Mmm what's wrong pretty girl?" He mumbles with that stupid high smile on his face.

"Don't call me pretty girl. I'm having someone coming over. So you better not flirt with me. Because I want actually want to have sex." You say with a frown. It's been awhile and you've been horny.

"I can-"

"I'm not having sex with you, your my best friend and roommate and guess what else you are? High. Also I'm mad at you for stealing my shit so- get out." You push him out of your room and go to the front door to let the guy in.

He's tall, and pretty hot. Suguru is sitting on the couch eyeing him down. But he's to slug right now to say anything so he keeps smoking. You bring the boy in your room and you both undress.

He throws you on to the bed and he kisses down your body nothing romantic and then he gets to your pussy and sucks uncomfortably on your vagina no where close to your clit. He licks your folds nothing pleasureful.

You faked moaned try to please him more than yourself. "You close?" He said with a grin. Holy fuck you wanted to throw yourself off a balcony from this shit. This is so fucking disgusting and just overall, devastating for this man.

"Mhmm..?" You let out a sarcastic mhm and the idiot believed it. You let out a small cough to get attention and let out a short. "I came." It was an obvious lie to get him to piss off.

"Are you not gonna make me come to kitten?" What the fuck. "Uhm you can go. Maybe next time." (There will be no next time.) You practically kicked him out of the house and flopped back down with Suguru.

"Those moans were clearly fake." He bluntly states. You feel your face heat up with embarrassment. You were about to back yourself up but he cut you off. "I can make those pretty moans real."

That made you wet. No- soaked. Yes, he's your roommate, more so your best friend. But the way his eyes were so seductive, his soft hair your picturing your self grabbing as he eats you out.

But you do have a problem.

"Suguru no, I've never gotten good head. Yours won't be any better. So don't get your hopes up."

He chuckled with that handsome smile and his messy hair. His eyes were beet red but still so pretty. "If you let me..." He takes a puff. "I'll make you feel so good. I won't force you, you know I never will."

You sucked your breath in and considered. Maybe that tongue piercing might feel good on your pussy. "Fine. But this might ruin our friendship though." You say in a worried tone.

"Pretty, I want you more than just friends and I won't stop until I have you. I hope you know that." he says, in a sappy tone. Being sappy isn't like him but the more his eyes get red and the more inhales explains a lot.

He grabs your hand and brings you to his bedroom. It has band posters all over and a very black theme. You let him lay you flat on the bed and he gently kisses you.

"Good thing I have the munchies." He says in a shallow, joking voice. He kisses down your body after taking off your shirt. He gropes your tits rubbing the nipples.

He pulls down your pants and panties. He sniffs your pussy breathing in deeply. He sticks his tongue out then stops. You sigh disappointed. "I thought you were gonna make me feel good?" You say in a smug and annoyed tone.

You had a feeling this was gonna happen. They either don't know what to do when trying to eat out and just give up and just pull out their dick or just do it bad.

"I will don't worry..." He takes a joint and some weed from your dresser and your brows furrow. He rolls a joint up and lights the tip up and puts it into your mouth.

"Pretty girl I want you to smoke it at the same time. Get you a little high, hm?" He says in a seductive tone. You can never say no to that especially if you want release for your pussy and that tight knot in your stomach.

He kisses your pubic area then slowly kisses your folds. Since he's still high (you're sorta concerned about how much he took) but it's really lazy. He licks your slit, low and sensual. Something about this just made you more wet.

What the hell are you doing?

This is your best friend! Plus it's someone you live with. But all your thoughts crumble to ash as he latches onto your clit and you start to get high. For some reason it made you feel even better.

You were embarrassed to admit but this felt really fucking good. You let out a true moan for the first time being eaten out.

He shoved two of his long fingers inside with black finger nail paint. He found your spongy spot in practically a second. He attacked your g-spot with his fingers, while he sucked on your clit like he wanted to leave a hickey. (Maybe he did.)

Your mind began to get foggy the more you smoked. All you could feel is pleasure at this point. "S-Sugu..." Your eyes brimmed with tears. That was the most you could say or do then shake and moan.

"You close sweetheart?" First time you could never be disgusted by that sentence. You just whined louder as an answer you really couldn't answer. He chuckled into your pussy causing pleasurable vibrations.

The more you smoke the more you relax, so the more you can't run or move. The more you moan and holler. This feels like the best kind of torture.

You pull at his hair and he moans and squeezes his eyes shut. "God woman." He groans. He thrusts his fingers faster while he grins and shuts his eyes the more you pull the faster he trusts and abuses your sweet spot.

"Sugu!" You squeal as you squirt he latches on to your clit again making you practically scream. He massages your thighs with small rubs while he gently sucks.

He licks your juices off drunk on your taste. You feel your eyes get hazy and droopy with the lazy licks after the best fucking orgasm you ever had.

You eventually pass out. Maybe it was the weed or maybe the mind altering orgasm. But he grabbed a wet towel and gently dabbed your pussy making sure it's clean from your cum and his saliva.

He slides your pink lacy panties on and one of his shirts. He crawls up taking the joint out of your mouth and puts it on the night stand beside his bed. He holds you tight against him kissing your forehead.

He licked his lips still drunk on your taste. He pulled the blankets up and kissed your forehead one last time. He whispered into your ear gently trying not to wake you up.

"Is being ate out still not good?"

୨୧・・・・୨୧

#jjk x reader #jjk drabble #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #suguru geto #geto smut #geto x you #geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru

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farfromhome87 · 3 days ago

Text

Message Received- Part 4/5

Previous parts here. Inspired by @mollywog I wish you would write a You've Got Mail inspired fic

***Peeta***

Peeta holds his breath as he waits for her reply. The three dots have sprung to life and then paused three times already, as if she is considering her words carefully. Peeta’s palms start to sweat. He’s not exactly sure why the stakes feel so high. So what if a stranger he’s been texting for a few weeks doesn’t want to see him? How many times has he been ghosted on dating apps? It’s hardly the first time he’s experienced rejection. But still, something feels different with her. Her works stick with him like those burrs that latch onto your clothing when you tramp through a thick patch of woods. You try to pull them off, but keep finding them weeks, months, years later, clinging to the heel of your wool sock, tucked in the fold of your jacket’s cuff. They poke at you until you pay attention.

The phone pings and Peeta rushes to unlock it.

Bullseye Hmm if I agree to meet… how do I know you’re not a serial killer?

Peeta puffs air out of his cheeks in relief. He grins

Peeta Mellark Isn’t that what you’re looking for? You begged me to kill you the other day…😉 Bullseye True… Peeta Mellark Plus, i think i’m the one more likely to be in danger Bullseye Oh really? Why’s that?

Peeta’s glad that he’s still outside alone in his car–he doesn’t need his nosy, wiseass roommate, Finnick, seeing the uncontrollably large smile cracking across his face. He pauses just a moment before tapping out a reply.

Peeta Mellark Well first of all, I know you’re in the market for targets. Which means you have access to a fairly antiquated but no less deadly weapon. Guess my only hope is that practicing with those off-center targets has thrown off your aim And second of all, you were the one who texted me first. This could be a targeted hit! Bullseye WOW, you’ve really thought this through. Guess someone would if they had done something to merit a hit… What was it? Something classic? Bank heist?

Peeta snorts, his fingers flying across the screen.

Peeta Mellark Um excuse me. BORING Bullseye Ah, you slept with the mob boss’ only daughter then? Peeta Mellark A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell Bullseye Is that what you are? A gentleman?

Peeta bites the side of his thumb, considering. He supposes he fits the bill in the sense that he is considerate, respects boundaries, and is well-mannered, maybe to a fault… But the term “gentleman” also feels weirdly co-opted by misogynistic assholes who think women should fall at their feet if they hold open a door or pick up the tab at dinner.

Peeta Mellark Actually, yes. But not in a condescending way Um I hope Bullseye Quick, which Jane Austen beau best represents you?

Peeta lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Then he scans his mental catalog of the author’s works. He’s read most of them, but Pride and Prejudice was the most recent. And the 2005 film adaptation is one of Annie’s favorites, so it's been background noise in the apartment lately. Her and Finnick typically rewind and replay sections several times when they get…distracted.

Peeta Mellark Ugh putting me on the spot. It’s probably Mr. Bingley

Peeta winces a little as he types it–it’s not the sexiest answer– but if you can’t be honest with the perfect stranger in your phone, then when can you be? The fact is, historically, he’s been a Bingley. Optimistic. Affable. Quick to fall in love….

Bullseye Mmm golden retriever energy. I see… Peeta Mellark Am I putting you off the meeting? Bullseye Nah I can get behind it as long as you don't jump all over me and lick my face 😜 Peeta Mellark I make no promises. Depends on if you have treats in your pockets Actually, lately I've been a little sassy. It's kinda giving Elizabeth Bennet Bullseye Well that works out. I have major Darcy vibes

Peeta smiles idiotically at the phone, his heart feeling lighter than it has in days. They agree on a time and place to meet before Bullseye says goodbye so that she can get on her twice weekly Facetime call with her sister, Prim. It’s odd, Peeta thinks, that he knows so many intimate details about her–her deepest fears, her hopes, her dreams, even the name of her beloved sister, but at the same time he doesn’t know her at all. It feels surreal that in less than one week this all will change.

___ ___ ___

***Katniss***

“So you’re really going to meet this guy?” comes Prim’s skeptical voice over the phone. Virtual Prim scrunches up her nose. “You, Katniss Everdeen, queen of introversion, princess of canceled plans, lady of constant solitude?”

Katniss scoffs. “Hey, I meet plenty of people. I’ll have you know I was propositioned by every single member of a bachelor party last night at Abernathy’s.”

“Ew. You know that drunk meatheads sexually harassing you at your workplace is not what I mean.” She plops her head on her hand, the giant poof of her blonde bun bobbing on her head. “It’s just–this feels so out of character. How do you know he’s not some creep?”

“Prim, he told me he’s Mr. Bingley. He didn’t even hesitate. How many creeps do you know that have Mr. Bingley at the tips of their tongue?” Katniss says matter-of-factly, as if this settles things. She pulls a few items out of the fridge so that she can wipe down the bottom shelf. Katniss can’t sit still while she’s talking on the phone–it’s either anxious pacing that gets her a noise complaint from the crotchety old man downstairs, or cleaning.

Prim still looks unconvinced. “This isn’t because of Gale, is it?” she asks quietly.

At this, Katniss lets out a snort. She swipes her cleaning rag over the white plastic surface and then replaces the contents of the shelf, wondering vaguely how she has ended up with three half-eaten jars of pickles. “Definitely not. Prim, I know Gale and I dragged things out, but that relationship was over months before it was official. We’ve been over this. There’s no one I’d rather bag a buck with, but life isn’t a hunting trip. Just because you grow up skinning rabbits with someone doesn’t mean you’re compatible romantic partners.”

The corner of Prim’s lip lifts. She looks relieved. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Anyway, this isn’t serious.” Katniss continues. “And I don’t see how it's any creepier than a Tinder date. And… I dunno, he’s nice. And I could use a friend right now.”

Prim’s face softens. “I wish I could be there. Especially with everything going on with the woods.”

“I know little duck,” says Katniss, pausing her frenetic cleaning to look her sister in the eye. Prim looks so grown up in her Panem U hoodie over a pair of scrubs, her modest apartment in the background, the brown men’s loafers of her live-in boyfriend visible by the door. She’s doing her residency at one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country and is well on her way to becoming–in Katniss’ opinion–the best pediatrician Panem has ever seen. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?”

Prim gives her a long-suffering look reminiscent of her teenage years. “No, Katniss. Not once have you told me this. Not once. ONCE!”

Katniss barks out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Look, will you just take Johanna with you or something? She can wait outside in case things go south.”

***

Johanna is entirely too gleeful the next day when Katniss broaches the subject during their lunch break. Her angular face splits into a grin so saucy they could probably serve it at the Olive Garden. The fact that Johanna is this excited sends alarm bells off in the back of her mind and Katniss immediately tries to backpedal.

“Maybe this is a bad idea–”

“This is a GREAT idea,” cries Johanna, actually rubbing her hands together in anticipation of Katniss’ inevitable mortification. Johanna puts a bracing hand on her shoulder and peers down at her through a curtain of purple tinged hair. “Plus it’ll take your mind off the hot nerd from the Conservation Department, since you seem so determined to hate him. Or on second thought, maybe it will be so terrible that it’ll drive you straight into his arms. Either way, I’m seated.”

Katniss groans, feeling her cheeks flush without her permission. “I do NOT want to think about Peeta Mellark right now.”

It’s true, she doesn’t want to think about him, especially not in the same sentence as 007. For some reason it feels weird, like the two of them can’t coexist in the same reality, like they are on separate planes in some metaverse. When Katniss tries to examine this feeling, she comes up empty. Honestly, feeling her feelings has never been her forte. At least not since her dad died and Katniss' mom sank into a deep depression that held her captive somewhere between life and her husband's grave. So that's why it's odd, these prickles of emotion, the heat that rises in her cheeks and pools in her core when she thinks of Peeta Mellark, her nemesis. And likewise, the twinge of guilt, as if she's betraying the man in her phone. The one who seems to see her soul. She just needs to meet him already, it feels like it's the only way to quell this confusing storm raging inside her.

***

Katniss lingers outside the agreed upon spot, a cozy wine bar in the regional capitol, suitably far enough from her home town that if 007 turns out to be a catfishing weirdo, she can more easily block his number and fade into obscurity. She smooths down her forest green sweater that Prim says accents her curves, and twists the end of her braid with restless fingers. She almost left her hair down flowing around her shoulders, but it seemed like trying too hard, especially since she had already done something out of the ordinary by swiping mascara on her short eyelashes. She had always wished they were long and luscious like her father's in the old photo hung over the mantle at home. And then an intrusive thought pokes her like a pesky stinging nettle–Peeta Mellark has long lashes, too. She accidentally noticed them the other day at the Hob after she chucked a cheese bun at him. Peeta had blinked those lashes in surprise and she wondered how they didn't get tangled up. Katniss rubs her temples in frustration and puffs out a breath of air. Stop thinking about him! She reminds herself.

Johanna clears her throat from her hiding spot in the alley where she has a good view of the interior through a window if she stands on a milk crate. She jerks her head toward the door and makes a “what are you waiting for” gesture with her hand.

Katniss takes a deep breath and pushes open the heavy oak door. The sound of clinking glasses and conversation fill her ears. The place is nice, but not ostentatious. She's not surprised 007 has good taste. It's also quiet thanks to the plush cushions on the furniture and the intimate set up of the tables, nestled into alcoves, between lush potted plants. Her heart buoys thinking he clearly remembered that she gets overstimulated in a crowd. Katniss selects a small booth in full view of the window into the alley. A sweet-smelling candle is flickering on the tabletop and there is a painting of a meadow full of wildflowers on the wall. She can't stop staring at it, marveling at the way she can almost feel the wind rustling through the swaying grass and the sun on her face. Longing bubbles and fizzes in her chest, longing for her father, longing for the girl she used to be by his side in their meadow.

Katniss shakes herself from the vivid memories, pulls out her worn copy of The Hobbit and a single dandelion plucked from the lawn outside Abernathy's, and places them prominently on the table. She smiles a secret smile feeling the candy bar in her jeans pocket, a subtle nod to their golden retriever banter. He'll surely find it hilarious. And maybe, thinks Katniss with a shiver, maybe she won't mind if he does bound into her personal space. She's surprised that the thought thrills rather than terrifies her.

Then Katniss waits. She waits. And waits. And waits.

Every time she hears the faint tinkle of the bell above the door she perks up, adjusting the book and flower, hoping it's him. And each time it's not, her heart grows heavier.

— — —

***Peeta***

“Finnick, so help me god, if you ruin this for me I am going to tell everyone that you sleep in a silk bonnet!” Peeta grits out, casting a disparaging look at his best friend’s carefully styled bronze locks.

Finnick scoffs. “Go right ahead, I'm not ashamed of my beauty routine.” He examines his nails coyly, then gives Peeta a noogie.

“Gah!” yelps Peeta, desperately smoothing down his hair. He actually put in effort today, used some goopy product that Rue recommended for curls. He glances nervously at the door, worried the scene Finnick is creating will draw attention. “I told you I don't need a chaperone.”

“Pfft,” tuts Finnick. “Not a chaperone, I'm your second. Y’know, like in case the “woman” you're sexting with is actually some burly catfisher and you have to duel him or something.”

“I'm not sexting with her!” Peeta protests, dropping his voice an octave on the sexting part. There's a little old lady waiting for the bus on the corner and she is giving them the hairy eyeball. “And unfortunately I left my dueling sword at home, so if you'll excuse me–”

Finnick grips Peeta’s shoulders before he can proceed, his expression sobering. “Ok, ok,” Finnick concedes. “But c'mon, man, you have to admit that you let yourself get hurt sometimes. You always dive in head first with that big ‘ol heart of yours.”

Peeta rakes a hand through his curls out of habit, wincing as his attempt at looking dapper is foiled. “Yeah, I know…but this one's different,” he says, rocking up on his toes, a nervous, hopeful current buzzing in his veins. “I can feel it.”

Finnick still looks skeptical, but he doesn't push it further. He's a dick sometimes, but at the end of the day, he's a great friend. “Ok, Peet. But at least let me take a look first.”

Finnick ambles over to the open door through which a welcoming amber light spills onto the darkening sidewalk, and peers inside.

“She’ll have a book with her,” mutters Peeta, wiping his sweaty palms on his dark wash jeans. “And a flower. A dandelion.”

Finnick stares for so long, and with such a curious expression on his face, that Peeta wonders if it actually is someone duel-worthy. Finally, Finnick gives a low whistle. “Well, she's pretty, that's for sure.”

Peeta waves the comment off impatiently. He already knows this. Her beauty transcends the bounds of his shitty, outdated iPhone. It’s wrapped up in her words, the funny little expressions she uses, the way she can be poetic one moment and then snarky the next. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt chemistry like this with anyone, except maybe, well…Peeta’s stomach somersaults as a flicker of silver and a sweep of a dark braid flash in his mind and then shimmer away like butter in a hot griddle. Peeta coughs as if he can physically dispel this ridiculous notion from his body.

“Harmless then,” he says, attempting to push Finnick aside. Enough is enough.

Finnick resists, still looking mystified. “Well, I wouldn’t say harmless,” he chuckles.

“Ok, this is getting ridiculous. I'm a grown ass man.” Peeta dodges Finnick with the practice of a former star wrestler and launches himself at the door. Then just as quickly, he is reeling back, his eyes wide as cinnamon rolls. “Is that–?”

“Katniss Everdeen,” they say together.

Both Peeta and Finnick are silent for a long time. The old woman on the corner gets onto the bus and it belches a cloud of putrid fumes as it drives off. Finally Peeta scrubs a hand over his jaw and breathes, “Well, shit…”

Emotions are raging inside Peeta at the speed of weather changes in the mountains. First shock, then gut wrenching disappointment, then disgust, then relief? And then, at last, he lands on anger. White hot anger. And somehow that feels like the only emotion he knows how to handle in the moment. When he is fired up like this there is no chance of anyone stopping him, so he easily sidesteps an alarmed Finnick and marches into the wine bar without so much as a glance behind.

She’s at his favorite booth, the one with the wildflower painting. Because of course she would choose that one. How infuriating to realize that your rival has a chilling psychic power over you, that she can see inside you, instinctually know your likes, your dislikes…Is this how she has been pushing all his buttons?!

Peeta skids to a halt in front of the table and slides into the booth across from Katniss, mastering his rage and training his face into a smirk. He drops his eyes to the bulging pocket of her jeans. “Is that a Snickers in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” he says smugly.

Katniss gasps. The shock in those sharp silver eyes tells him this was not a targeted catfishing exercise. She has no idea that the man in her phone is him. But she quickly composes herself, folding her arms across her chest in a way that pushes up her small, pert breasts and instantly draws his traitor eyes. Peeta blushes, feeling like she has already scored a point against him.

“Ugh gross,” she bites out. “It's an inside joke. For my friend.”

Peeta feigns nonchalance, digging his hand into the bowl of complimentary popcorn in the center of the table and shoving a handful into his mouth. “Kind of rude for your friend not to show up.”

Katniss narrows her eyes. “Kind of rude for you to speak with your mouth full,” she retorts, not missing a beat.

Peeta doesn't react, which only serves to annoy Katniss more. “What's he look like?” he asks her, glancing around the bar. “Maybe he just doesn't see you tucked away in here.”

Katniss flushes a delicious shade of strawberry and Peeta chalks one point up for himself. “I don't,” she starts, “I don't know.” She holds her head aloft proudly, but doubt flashes in her eyes. She looks so vulnerable for a moment that he almost feels bad about twisting the knife.

“You don't know?” repeats Peeta incredulously. “What do you mean? Is this some kind of blind date?”

“No!” she says too quickly and the attractive bloom of pink stays painted on the apples of her cheeks. Her cheekbones are so high and sharp that they look like they could cut glass. “It's just…a-a pen pal.”

Peeta plants his forearms on the table and leans toward her, trying to throw her off balance by the proximity. This ends up backfiring, however, because he catches the scent of her hair and it transfixes him with memories of spring. There's no other way to describe the earthy freshness, the subtle notes of cherry blossoms. “A penpal?!” he scoffs, sitting back against the plush backrest and attempting to get a grip on himself.

“Don't you have a PhD or something? she hisses through tight lips. “Do you really only have the capability to repeat back what I'm saying like a giant, bespectacled parrot?”

Peeta can't help it. He barks out a laugh, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Touche,” he allows. “But you gotta admit, I think not many of us have had a penpal since the third grade.”

Katniss just harrumphs, crossing her legs and looking defiantly at the door, refusing to meet his eyes. She looks nice in her fitted green sweater and wide-legged black slacks, and there's something so oddly charming about how those worn leather hunting boots she always wears are peeking out from the hems. It's just so her.

“Maybe he got caught in traffic,” Peeta suggests mildly, turning around to follow her gaze toward the completely empty street.

Katniss makes an irritated growling noise in the back of her throat. There's no traffic out here in West Panem. Ever.

“Or he got kidnapped by a gang of mountain trolls,” he grins, nodding cheekily at the copy of The Hobbit on the table. Her eyes flash and she pulls the book toward her possessively as if Peeta is sullying it with his razzing.

“I know what you're trying to do, ok?!” snaps Katniss. “Trying to make me feel like some kind of undesirable loser for getting stood up.”

Peeta’s grin drops. Shit. It's fun teasing her–it’s so easy, and well, she looks cute when she’s mad–but he never meant to make her feel small. That familiar voice pipes up in the back of his mind and ice fills his veins. Peeta, you worthless thing. Katniss is scowling at him, but it’s not her usual one. She looks almost defeated. And Peeta reminds himself that the restrictions on activities in the nature preserve are set to go into effect next week. He also reminds himself how he would feel if he were the one sitting here with a raw, open heart thinking Bullseye had rejected him.

“Katniss, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

But before Peeta can beg her forgiveness, a smooth baritone that sounds uncannily like his own cuts through the air. “Peeta bread!” the voice cries delightedly. “I didn’t know you had a date?!”

Peeta blanches. Oh dear God. Rye. He’s not supposed to work tonight. It’s his business partner Thom’s night. Peeta checked the schedule! He checked that list twice, Santa Clause style.

Katniss’ head swings around so fast that her thick braid nearly knocks over her glass of water. She peers up at Rye distrustfully, her eyes flickering to Peeta's, then back again, clearing clocking the family resemblance. “This is not a date,” she says icily.

He winces at her tone. Would it really be that bad to be on a date with him?

Rye just looks confused. He raises his eyebrows at Peeta. “Oh sorry, he just has a type–”

“Jesus, Rye,” grimaces Peeta. He wants to melt onto the floor and seep into the wine cellar. “Katniss is everyone's type,” he mumbles, stealing a glance at her. The crease between her eyes deepens and he hopes she doesn't think he's still messing with her.

Fortunately, Rye recovers himself and turns on the Mellark charm that Peeta normally has in spades, but seems to abandon him everytime he finds himself in Katniss' presence. Rye spreads his arms wide, now the picture of a debonair wine bar owner. “Well, any friend–er–” he shoots another bewildered glance at Peeta when Katniss' scowl intensifies, “acquaintance of Peeta's is an, um…acquaintance of mine. I'm going to have the kitchen send out a complimentary cheese plate and a bottle of our best red. Do you like Pinot Noir?”

Katniss' ears perk up at the mention of cheese and her stomach gives an audible grumble that Peeta pretends not to notice. She pauses before admitting, “It's my favorite.” She gives Rye a tight, concessionary smile as if to say, you seem nice enough, it’s not your fault your brother makes me want to run headlong through the plate glass window at the front of this bar.

Rye grins. “Well then you're going to love this.” Then he launches into a detailed description of the wine’s silky tannins and complex flavors, including the hint of baking spice that you get when you age it in French oak barrels, a nod to the family baking business.

Katniss looks bemused. The same expression that Peeta gets when Rye waxes philosophical about wine and that Rye gets when Peeta yammers on about biodiversity in broadleaf forest ecosystems. He notices there are specks of gold in Katniss’ right eye that catch the flicker of the candle light, just the right eye. Why can’t he stop staring?

“You know a lot about wine,” says Katniss generously, seemingly trying to make amends for her curtness earlier.

Rye puffs out his chest. “Well, kind of comes with the territory. I co-own this place.”

“Oh, wow,” she replies, sounding actually impressed. Peeta feels a tug of pride deep in his chest that she approves of the place he selected for their first meeting. But then that heady tug suddenly feels like a trapdoor opening when he remembers that Bullseye is gone. It’s only Katniss Everdeen left. The most dizzyingly desirable yet utterly out of reach woman he’s ever known. “It’s a really nice place,” she says, gesturing to the decor with her olive hand–small, but sinewy, like she could definitely send an arrow sailing through his heart with ease…and perhaps already has. “I love the artwork.”

“Thank you!” says Rye warmly. “Most of the paintings are Peeta–”

Peeta’s eyes widen and he shakes his head at Rye, swiping his hand discreetly across his neck in the universal sign of “abort!”. Rye cuts himself off with an unconvincing hacking cough. Katniss’ shrewd eyes snap to Peeta’s face and he avoids them. Will she remember that first conversation? The one where he said he was a painter? Even if she did, she probably thought he meant painter as in, house painter, commercial painter, right? Peeta swallows thickly, feeling her retina’s burning into his skin.

“Rye,” Peeta says, through gritted teeth. “How about that cheese plate, huh?”

Rye takes a hint and scurries off to the kitchens, leaving Peeta and Katniss alone, an unbearable silence stretching between them. The booth suddenly feels impossibly small. He shifts his bad leg into a more comfortable position and inadvertently grazes her knee with his. A flush creeps up his neck.

“So….Peeta Pie…” says Katniss, finally breaking the awkward silence. He’s surprised to see that her scowl has been replaced by a little smirk.

Peeta groans and pulls his hand down his mouth. “Bakery humor, you know? I come from a long line of bakers.”

“Guess that explains the stuff you’re bringing to Hazelle at the Hob.”

“Yep!” he confirms.

Katniss presses her lips together, then says, “I don’t know why, but I just never pictured you as a baker.”

Peeta smirks and places his arms on the table in front of them, flexing shamelessly so that the outline of his biceps will strain at the fabric of his blue button-down, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Ah, I guess you think I’m too cut to be a baker’s boy, is that it?”

Katniss snorts and rolls her eyes. Peeta immediately regrets it.

What a dickish gym bro thing to say?! He has never, not once in his life, flirted so terribly. He had more rizz as a 16-year-old than this! Sure… he works out his upper body a lot more than he used to, he supposes his physique must look ok. But he has to, he needs to use his arms a lot more than he used to. When the prosthetic is off it’s surprising the strength you need to maneuver around. And maybe, says a voice that sounds oddly like his psychologist, Dr. Aurelius, you worry about your physical attractiveness more than you used. You wonder whether anyone finds you desirable, and that’s why what you just said is a cry for help, a need for reassurance?

The look of revulsion Katniss is giving Peeta mirrors his internal monologue. He has to fix this! He casts around for a topic that will neutralize the situation, something they can’t possibly disagree on. His eyes land on the book.

“What’s your opinion on the decision to excise the scouring of the Shire in Peter Jackson’s interpretation of the Return of the King?” he asks suddenly.

Katniss blinks at him. “Huh?”

“C’mon, are you going to tell me you’re ok with the film completely leaving out the impact of war on Hobbiton? That it only shows war as some epic battle of elves and dwarves and men and not one of the common people?” Peeta raises his eyebrows at her expectantly. She still has her eyes narrowed, but she’s leaning in now. He knows she won’t be able to resist.

Finally Katniss blurts out, “And it totally sidesteps the commentary on industrialization!” The words come tumbling out of her mouth so fast that even Katniss looks surprised by them. She claps a hand over her mouth.

Peeta and Katniss stare at each other for a long beat, and then suddenly, they both erupt into laughter. It’s that kind of delirious laughter that you only get after unbearable tension. The kind of laughter that makes your eyes stream and coaxes the most unattractive and uncontrollable wheezing, snorting and gasping noises from the depths of your belly. The kind of laughter that wraps you up in a cozy, giddy blanket until you forget every painful thing.

A few moments later, Rye returns with a cheese plate (which Peeta notes is definitely custom made at twice the usual size) and two generous pours of the specialty Pinot. He gives Peeta a subtle wink before disappearing as quickly as possible. Katniss and Peeta dig into the platter, suddenly ravenous.

Now that the ice is broken, the conversation flows like water out of a washed out dam. They have the same taste in books (though Peeta knew that already) and music (though Katniss says he leans too heavily into sad-boy indie pop of the early aughts). And to Peeta’s delight, she tells him more about her sister, Prim, clearly the most precious person in the world to her. It feels like a gift to be trusted with those memories. Then Peeta makes Katniss laugh, recounting the time he and Rye played a prank on their big brother, Bannock, leaving “evidence” of a mouse all around the bakery, sending him on a Tom and Jerry-style wild goose chase to exterminate the ever-elusive pest.

It’s nearly 10 pm when their conversation falls into the first lull in hours. They have had second and third glasses of wine, a fact that left Katniss in stitches over his impossibly rosy cheeks, while she seemed cool, calm, and almost entirely unaffected. She tells Peeta she’s got stamina thanks to the drinking habits of her friend-of-the family, Haymitch–a person too irresponsible to be a surrogate father (her dad was killed in a workplace accident when she was eleven), but too close to be without a family title. Her and Prim have always called him “uncle.” The wine bar has emptied out and the ambient noise around them has subsided to a dull hum.

Peeta casts another glance toward the open door. A cool evening breeze rustles through the leaves of the Monstera near the host station. “Guess your friend’s not coming, huh?”

Katniss pinches the bridge of her nose and looks down at the crumbs of chocolate fudge cake on her plate. She doesn’t look angry anymore, just so tired. “Just–don’t Peeta. I don’t need your gloating.”

Peeta holds up his hands in defense. “I’m not,” he tells her firmly. “I swear, I’m not. Listen…” Peeta pauses, searching her face, feeling her eyes lift to his like gray stones falling into the blue depths of a lake. “Anyone who would stand you up is making a serious mistake.”

Katniss blinks. She looks like she’s trying to figure out whether he’s being a prick or not.

“Big mistake. Huge,” assures Peeta, evoking Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

The reference earns him a half smile. She shrugs. “I should go.” Katniss begins rifling in her purse for her wallet, and before he can stop himself, Peeta puts a hand out to still the motion. He marvels at the way his fingers encircle her entire wrist, at the feeling of her heartbeat quickening in the delicate veins at the base of her palm. She gasps.

“It’s on me,” he says softly.

Katniss doesn’t jerk away like he thought she might, but she shakes her head. “No way.”

“C’mon,” says Peeta. “It’s the least I can do after barging in and ruining your evening.”

“You didn’t–” Katniss cuts herself off and sighs deeply. “Peeta, I can’t. I have a thing about owing people.”

The corner of Peeta’s lips lift up in a hopeful grin. “Okaaaay,” he drawls. “Then buy me coffee at the Hob sometime?”

Katniss scrunches up her nose as she considers this. Her pulse thrums against the pads of his fingers. “Fine,” she relents, snapping the clasp on her purse closed.

Peeta tries not to feel devastated as she stands up from the table and slips out of the booth. He releases her wrist and she immediately covers the spot where his fingers were with her other hand, caressing the soft skin in the way he wants to do. There’s an unreadable expression on her face. Confusion? Resignation? Or…could it be, longing? Pull yourself together, man, Peeta chastises himself. You’re projecting.

He stands up, too, and breathes, “So, see you around, then?”

“Well, seeing as I’ve got a debt to pay now…guess so,” Katniss snaps, but there’s something softer in her tone, something less cutting in her scowl. “Tell your brother I said thank you for the lovely meal.”

Katniss spins on her heel and glides toward the door with that soft footfall like one of Tolkien’s elves walking atop the snow. Before she crosses the threshold, she throws her head back over her shoulder, braid cracking like a whip, and calls, “Your coffee order is shit, by the way. Peeta bread.”

And then she steps out into the street and fades into the night.

#everlark fanfiction #the hunger games #you've got mail au #Part 4 #this was only supposed to be a 4 part drabble!#help!

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amrass · 9 hours ago

Text

A take on Micah Bell's full backstory

So this is a new kind of post to me, a big-ass fan theory of sorts, but I've always enjoyed the more out-there takes in fandom. Also I've been sitting on this for months so it's nice to get it out.

In short, I made up a full backstory for Micah from the few scraps of information that are given in game. I'll go through some of those details first, then go through my own take in four sections:

Part 1: The way of the grandfather/the legacy of Micah Bell the First Part 2: Early years/Competitive survival Part 3: Young Adulthood/O'Driscoll Boy!Micah Part 4: Later Adulthood/Evil Bounty Hunter!Micah

(Note that the 1st and 2nd part will spoil my fanfic series The Devils, but it can still be read, as it's full of juicier details.)

Canon and semi-canon details from his backstory

So we don't know a whole lot, hints only given by select dialogue and a newspaper clip. Micah is the third in line in a family of outlaws, and ran together with his father and brother Amos for a while. His father was wanted for murder all over the place, and seems like a man with dark charm ("Ain't life grand?") and a temper (nearly killing Amos). Amos, who ran away from the family tradition, wanting nothing to do with it. You can read about them on various online encyclopedias, but know that some of those are written by uh, creative fans, and AI, so there is often errors. It's irritating, but it is what it is.

An interesting bit is the interview with Micah's actor Peter Blomquist (I have tried to google but am having trouble finding it; please send link if you have it!) is the mention that Micah's father was bad, but his grandfather was worse. Tbh I think this is a bit from a backstory that was among the things that were scrapped from the final game.

So, of his grandfather we know almost nothing, except that he was wild. And that he was maybe worse than Micah III's father. But that also means that the Second was also better than the First somehow.

My take

Part 1: The way of the grandfather / the legacy of Micah Bell the First

I think the grandfather was the head of the family as long as he lived. I also think he imposed a terrible burden upon Micah Bell II (and III).

It's interesting if the Second tries to be better than the First in that when he got a woman pregnant, he tried to hide her and their two children, because he didn't want to force the Bell training upon them. But it slipped out one evening due to drink. The older forced the younger to reveal the locations of the woman and the two sons.

And so the training of the two new Bells begins, harsh and unrelenting. Shooting, robbing, killing. And more 18+ than I feel is necessary in this post, but yeah, disturbing stuff.

Micah being the one to inherit the name most likely means that he is older than Amos. But the thing is that Micah gives off serious little brother vibes to me. I dunno exactly why. Vibes, man.

So, I thought an interesting twist would be: what if the name of Micah Bell was something that had to be earned? What if they'd been given different names originally, Amos and something unknown, before the latter was the better outlaw and became the Micah Bell III we know. He is one of the fastest shots in the game, and a competition like that, begun from early age, could've given him initiative to train harder, desperate to earn the name.

I am a cruel writer. How can I make this crueler? I got it:

Their grandfather identifies quickly that one brother is weaker and easier to manipulate than the other. Not in physical strength, but in terms of familial bonds. Maybe he is less charming than Amos, and makes fewer friends, because idk he is busy eating bugs (he seems like the kind of kid who would eat bugs). Or maybe their mother, before the arrival of the men, makes the boys attend a local church school, and Amos finds love in the religion while his brother stares out the window. Not because he's evil but because he's easily bored.

So the grandfather only tells one brother of the competition about earning the name, and it's not Amos. He also says the one who loses the right to the name has to be killed by the winner because there can only be one Micah Bell for each generation, that's how it has always been done. Maybe he speaks the truth, maybe he lies, but no matter what he is efficiently cutting the bond between the two brothers.

Part 2: Early years / Competitive survival

So, that is how Micah Bell III becomes Micah Bell III, as a boy and as a youth. I'll just go back to calling him Micah to make it easier, also because calling him anything else would kind of feel like waving a death sentence in the face of a child after I wrote The Devils. Because even people who commit atrocities have been a child once.

Growing up, Micah's survival depends upon winning over his brother. This is where his idea of winning and losing comes from. It doesn't help that his father yaps on and on about a similar philosophy, but where he's all words, Micah is all acts.

Micah never finds out that Amos doesn't know about the competition. He resents him from not trying harder. For making Micah look bad, training so hard so he can kill his fool brother, lying awake at night and mentally preparing for it. But if friendships are rope, then familial bonds are chains; almost impossible to cut.

He lies awake at night and stares at Amos on the other side of the fire, missing when they curled up together back when it did not feel like sleeping next to an enemy. It eats the child up, all that training. Not much left of who he was or could be. Hey, at least he doesn't have time to eat bugs.

But maybe, if their grandfather falls ill, Micah is the one to kill him. Unable to cope with the idea of killing his brother, he shoots him in the face. And then he turns to Amos, grinning, because they're free.

Amos does not see himself as freed. He sees murder. He thinks it is only because Micah saw their grandfather as weak, when he secretly had been the strongest force in their life. Micah walks towards him, covered in their grandfather's blood (I do like a dramatic scene), and Amos turns away, throws up and tells him to stay away. Micah feels shock, then loss, then rage. Micah Bell II would probably react with pure rage, but Micah is so used to surviving things at this point, he survives that too. None of their relationships are all that salvageable from this moment, especially not after Amos runs away.

This makes me think of another HC of mine, namely that Micah is the one to kill Amos, which has its own post and arguments here. But if you add in the theory present in this post, it makes even more sense to why he'd killed Amos, finishing what he had been trained to do since he was a kid.

Part 3: Young adulthood / O'Driscoll Boy!Micah

Did you know Micah's outfits have a bunch of half-hidden, green accents them? I've seen it on his scarf, his gloves, his horse saddle ...

This is basically copy pasting a bit from a Twitter thread I made, but I just really like the idea of Micah being an ex-O'Driscoll Boy mainly due to his green scarf. It's more of a teal, but maybe it's a faded O'Driscoll green. Colm would've valued a gun like him. His ruthlessness and boot-licking, too. Especially if he was younger, lonelier and easier to sway. After his brother leaves and his father dies, he'll have no one.

And while he is a bit of a lone wolf hermit, Colm could've reminded him of his father, like Dutch probably does, but I really like the thought of Colm reminding Micah of his grandfather. He wouldn't be too unfamiliar with the gang dynamic, and find more homeliness in that than in a normal family. There's a well-known tendency among abused kids to unconsciously seek out relationships that mirror their broken families. Paradoxically, the lack of safety feels safe.

Of course, the Bell heritage is too alive within him to render him into another nameless O'Driscoll Boy, so he and Colm eventually fall out. He goes back to being a lone wolf, but maybe he's made some connections, which make gathering a troop easier, especially for bank robberies (Skinny, Cleet, Joe...). But he mostly stays alone.

During RDR2, when Colm was hanged, maybe Micah felt the green scarf catch strangely, while in camp or while out riding (or even watching the hanging happen from a dark back alley in Saint Denis). Micah reached behind to the nape of his neck, feeling as though someone had held him there, squeezed, and then let go.

Part 4: Later Adulthood / Evil bounty hunter!Micah

So I'm a total sucker for the theory of Micah being a form of a hitman that's like an evil bounty hunter. The main reason for this is the fact that Dutch's bounty poster can be found at Micah's camp outside Strawberry. But also because my first thought when we first met him in the game was "Omg, Loco from The Great Silence, my favorite evil bounty hunter villain!" They have some of the same color scheme in the winter outfit, and I think it's a reference.

Loco has the same life philosophy as Micah, as seen in this quote: "You're on the side of the law. We, we're on the side of the law of survival… survival of the fittest!" and kind of in this one (ok I'm putting it here because it's so cool, he's just burst into the hideout of his own evil bounty hunter gang) "Since when are wolves afraid of wolves?"

I like the idea of Micah is sick to death of gang life but knows enough of it from his time as an O'Driscoll to infiltrate hideouts and gangs easy, to reap bounties from the lawful people he's been robbing up to now and occasionally still do. Maybe the Van der Lindes weren't the first gang he brought down. That's fun to think about.

Also, I love it when asshole villains do the "right" thing. Partly why I love Micah's character; as an antagonist, he brings down Arthur and John, directly and indirectly.

(Ooh this is beside the point, but that's actually one of my issues with the narratives of the RDR and GTA games. They have this core of nihilism that actively hinders their stories from becoming as great as their characters, but also makes the games sell easier. Maybe another post, or maybe fandom isn't the place for critiques.)

Anyway, Micah just didn't think anyone could ever get to him, but then again he'd never met anyone like Dutch. Hell, the man even had the same dark charm like his father, enjoying similar exclamations. I think he hoped to recreate something of his old family dynamic with Dutch, who was kinder than his grandfather, father and Colm. We all know how that went. His last words was still a compliment to Dutch though. As if it was still a competition, or a game, in the end.

*walks a few steps away, twirls, shrugs, falls face first into the snow*

Here's another pic of Loco (along with the GIF in the beginning):

The end

Yeah I have not much more to say here lol. Feel free to use and expand upon this theory, or make your own by taking out of some of the foundations, could be cool to see. I'd love a shoutout, but it seems shoutouts are going out of fashion, which is sad. Put the community back into fandom! Stop it with the competition! Make friends! Lmao "be less like Micah", but yeah, I guess it stands. I see so many people worship canon like a deity. Please have more fun!!!

Anyway, thank you for reading ☺️

#amras writes #micah bell #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption #rdr #rdr2 #rdr fandom #rdr2 micah #rdr2 community #colm o'driscoll #o'driscoll boys #amos bell #micah bell the first #micah bell the second #fan theory #dutch van der linde #rdr2 fandom

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coraniaid · 2 days ago

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What are your favorite Giles moments? What is a 'missing scene' or something you'd like to have seen Giles do or say and didn't?

I think my favorite Giles moments are the obvious ones, really.

His reaction to Buffy coming back to Sunnydale in Dead Man's Party: not just the fact he's the only person not to give her a hard time about being gone but because he's so obviously happy that she's returned but tries to hide that delight from her. He understands her in a way her friends and her mother can't -- he too struggled with his supernatural calling when he was young, and tried running away from it, after all -- but he thinks his affection for her is something to be ashamed of.

His speech to her in Innocence ("if it's guilt you're looking for [...] I'm not your man. All you will get from me is my support and my respect"). Not only is this a nice moment in itself (albeit one later undercut a little by the events of Helpless), it also -- together with Joyce looking at Buffy and telling her that "you look the same to me" in the very next scene -- strongly suggests that people who read Season 2 as the show somehow punishing Buffy for the "mistake" of sleeping with Angel have chosen a reading that the show is actively rejecting. Angel losing his soul is a metaphor for something that really happens -- you sleep with somebody and then they seem to become somebody a lot less pleasant -- but it's not the show's position that any of this is Buffy's fault.

His various moments sticking up for Buffy when she's not around to see it. Threatening Snyder in Dead Man's Party, of course ("would you like me to convince you?"), as well as more gently defending her earlier in the show, but also lots of his interactions with Wesley or other Watchers are also fun ("If you want to criticize my methods, fine. But you can keep your snide remarks to yourself. And while you're at it, don't criticize my methods").

Giles is pretty funny, actually; I think he gets some pretty good lines throughout the show. For example I like the scene in Intervention when he and Buffy are out in the desert for a ritual, she points out they don't have any food or water with them and wonders if the guide he's summoning for her will also "a week later" lead him to her "bleached bones", and he insists that won't happen: "it takes more than a week to bleach bones". Or his speech to the gang in I Only Have Eyes For You ("I appreciate your thoughts on the matter. In fact, well, I encourage you to always challenge me when you feel it's appropriate. You should never be cowed by authority. ... Except, of course, in this instance, when I am clearly right and you are clearly wrong.")

I don't really like fandom attempts to cast Giles as the Scooby Gang's unproblematic Team Dad, but I do like the very different ways Giles interacts with Buffy's friends, from his gentle support of Willow in the early seasons to his frequent irritation with Xander ("Am I right Giles?" "Almost certainly not, but to be fair I wasn't listening." or "Xander, don't speak Latin in front of the books"). I like the fact that Dawn -- as the part of Buffy who gets to be a normal kid and not a Slayer -- quickly intuits that Giles doesn't really like her. I like the scene where Giles goes to kill Angelus in Passion and the scene in which he confronts Angel in Amends.

Oh, and of course "I believe the subtext here is rapidly becoming text", which I'm pretty sure I've quoted on this blog more than once.

Missing scene ... well, I've argued recently (and repeatedly) that we should have seen Giles trying to help Faith a bit more than we did if the show didn't want us to blame him for her changing sides, so let's go with something else. It would have been nice if we'd had a scene where Giles tried to get Buffy to talk about Kendra's death, I think (I mean in the same way he's able to get her to open up about how it felt to have to send Angel to hell). He wouldn't have to be successful -- you could contrast this with his own reluctance to talk about Jenny, even -- but it would make it much, much easier to read Buffy's ongoing silence about Kendra as a deliberate character choice, rather than -- as I strongly suspect it was -- the writers just never caring about Kendra at all and assuming the audience didn't either.

#btvs #thanks for the ask!

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slimeboiss · 14 hours ago

Text

Last Defense Character Analysis

I already did a full breakdown of my preliminary thoughts on these characters when most of them didnt even have names, so I figured i'd return to this topic now that each and everyone of these freaks is accounted for (as far as we know anyway). Have my opinions changed or what I secretly a genius that nailed all these characters on my first impressions? Let's see

TAKUMI SUMINO

I'll be honest, I don't really have anything new to say about this guy that hasn't already been said in my last post. I'm sure there have been a few tidbits about his character that have popped up in some trailers, but as far as I know nothing so far has changed my perception of him as your average Danganronpa protagonist (including Kokohead, from Rain Code). Which isn't necessarily a bad thing - the protagonists of Kodaka's games tend to be some of the more inoffensive characters. And like with every protagonist (save probably Makoto because who cares about him) Im sure theres more to him than meets the eye - but I doubt that it'll fundamentally change his everyman personality he's got going on.

DARUMI AMEMIYA

She's like the mascot of the game for me. I've never seen a more Danganronpa-coded character in my life.

Like Takumi I think I nailed down my thoughts on Darumi pretty well in my first post - she's had a lot of early prominence in early trailers, so it was easier to get a feel for what she was like compared to some of the no-names in the cast.

That being said, as more information about her came out, she does strike me as a character that hides her much deeper issues behind a mask. She actively wants to die, and she wants to die in a spectacular way. My guess is that she's had a horrific life (who hasn't in these games), and her obsession with killing games is a coping mechanism. I expect that she might have a touch of suicidal ideation and maybe even self harm habits stemming from this, though I can't imagine whether or not the writers are capable of handing it well.

Guess we'll have to wait and see!

EITO AOTSUKI

Getting queerbaited by the man behind Danganronpa is like losing chess to a dog but man come on. "Takumi's most trusted ally"? Who do you think you're fooling

He's a nerd with little social skills but he has strong feelings about friendships. He's also apparently sickly, which explains why he was the same skin tone as copy paper. The only difference between my initial impression of him is that I expected him to be a lot more "cooler" - closer to Byakuya, but not as much as an asshole. However, his profile and quotes seems to lean to him being a far more earnest and awkward character than that.

And yes the gay sex scene still looms heavy over him but I still have no idea how to contextualize that with what we know about him. Maybe he really is freaky like that.

(it'd be funny if that scene is just not in the game at all and nobody behind the game ever acknowledges that it happened.)

HIRUKO SHIZUHARA

Apparently, she's the Leader of the Special Defense Unit, but I have no idea how that translates into the game itself. Is she Sirei's second in command (disregarding Nigou for a second)? She does have a domineering energy that would make her a good candidate for leadership, but like

Is she the one giving out commands in battle

is she actually the protagonist but exclusively in combat

maybe im overthinking this, im tired lol and reaching for new things to say

Besides that, she's a huge fan of violence and bloodshed, which is a character trait that is shared by like half the cast. You're not special girl get a new character trait.

TAKEMARU YAKUSHIJI

Yeah I was pretty much spot on, this guy is the delinquent with a heart of gold. I want to say though, he comes off as more hotblooded and harmless than Mondo for some reason. It's hard to explain, their archetypes are pretty much identical but Takemaru comes off as if he's putting more emphasis on the "defender of the weak" part right off the bat. Im basing this all on a few quotes the devs deliberately selected to give that impression, so who knows, maybe hes just as much of an antisocial jerk as Mondo was in his first few hours.

I will say that they're not beating "this is danganronpa but again" allegations with this guy.

KAKO TSUKUMO

She deserves to be in a better game.

Okay okay, I don't have much to add about her. She's meek and a bit spacy, traits I could have gathered from early trailers. She also wants to be a detective, because she's a fundamentally curious character.

I don't want to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but it does seem that she's... resentful about a certain relationship of hers. She gives me the impression that she wants to be independent, but a certain someone keeps dragging her back - and perhaps, her sense of genuine love and her naturally submissive personality keeps her from voicing her true feelings. I will expand a bit on my theories on the next section, where unfortunately I have to talk about-

IMA TSUKUMO

Im not sure what I was expecting

Okay so "siscon" is a very common trope in japanese media - you even see it in otherwise "good" media like Spy x Family. It's not necessarily "romantic" in nature, yes, but 9 times out of 10 it straddles the border between platonic and romantic so closely that at that point you might as well be playing the Coffin of Andy and Leyley.

In this case, it seems that their "relationship" is the way it is because of their very rough upbringing, with Ima becoming Kako's sole protector. By that line of reasoning, it's not a surprise that Ima would be so defensive over his sole sister, and why Kako, who has presumably been sheltered by Ima most of her life, would be so meek and curious.

That being said, nothing about how Ima has been written so far or Kodaka's previous track record inspires much confidence that this is going to be anything but a stock incest joke for 90 percent of their screentime, which is a shame. It could genuinely be an interesting storyline if it wasn't written by the Danganronpa creators.

Also worth pointing out that their character art has opposing angel and devil motifs. Make of that what you will but like I don't need him to have evil fucked up wings to gather that this guy is a creep.

TSUBASA KAWANA

She's like, normal. From what I've gathered, she's a perky, generally cheerful girl that doesn't do well under pressure. Her gimmick appears to be that she tends to throw up when she's put in a stressful situation, which I hope doesn't become a running gag that gets run to the ground.

Also, it looks like her talent with machines (who could have guessed), also has a gameplay purpose. She can upgrade character's weapons in the garage - which does make me wonder if other characters have a sort of additional gameplay mechanic that tie in with their talents, or is she just special in that regard.

Also she has a whole ass van as a weapon, which must suck for Takumi who just got a katana. Katanas are cool but not as cool when your classmates gets a freaking armored van.

SHOUMA GINZAKI

His title is literally "Waste of Space", LMAO

I speculated that he had a Chihiro-like personality, being meek, shy, and perhaps a literal self-deprecating. I was right, but he definitely leans way more into the self-deprecating angle. Sorta like Toko or Mikan, but with an outward personality skewing closer to Chihiro, if that makes sense. (Yes i know this is not a danganronpa game but these are the closest analogies i can make).

He might have gone some experimentation (judging from a screenshot of him on an operating table), something that perhaps heavily influenced his self esteem. Maybe the experiment went bad and left him looking like a kindergartener. I'd be pretty fucked up too if I got stuck looking like a smurf my whole life.

I suspect he's a closet nerd (specifically for Gundam), on account of his weapon being a fucking mech.

As an aside note, if we keep going with the danganronpa comparisons, it's funny how you can draw a line between the token cartoon character designs - from sex offender who everyone hates (Hifumi and Teruteru) to gnomes that hate themselves (Ryoma and this guy)

GAKU MARUKO

Fuckass bowl cut

I didnt mention this specifically in my first analysis (if you want to call it that), but I kinda took this guy for a "lovable" coward type. Think Hiro. This is pretty close to the true, except he like openly admits to not caring about anyone but himself. He's like very explicitly a selfish prick. He gives me the vibe of this very annoying character who nonetheless mellows out as you near the endgame. His bio does state that he is good at taking care of the people he has open his heart to, so it's not like he's a complete sociopath.

I have no idea what this means but I'm sticking with my "token pervert" theory. Nonzero chance that this guy is develops a creepy obsession with a girl that takes over 90 percent of his characterization (see Kazuichi Souda)

YUGAMU OMOKAGE

Certified freak.

He's got the same deal as Darumi, having a weird, almost fetishistic obsession with murder, but unlike Darumi, his stems from the fact that he's the heir to a family of hitmen. Not only does he enjoy murder, but he also enjoys torture - anything that inflicts pain, either on other people, or on himself. Grade A sadomasochist, a very Danganronpa-coded character.

His dialogue also very heavily implies that he desires Takumi carnally, in which case he would have to get in line behind Eito.

Apparently, he's also a fan of getting naked and streaking through the school. I genuinely don't know what to make of that.

KYOSHIKA MAGADORI

I expected her to be a more serious, stoic character, closer to a Peko or Maki, but turns out she's like, weird. She took becoming a samurai too seriously and now she had a third grade education and all the knowledge of swordsmanship and bushido that she could gather from anime. In other words, she's a grade A otaku, but she has no idea how technology works because she's as old fashioned as a samurai. In other words, she's like, closer to Gundham than she is to her fellow swordswoman Peko.

The other gimmick about her is that she has a very close relationship with her sword. And if you don't know what that means, then Kurara makes a joke in her character introduction trailer that Kyoshika uses her... ahem, as a sheath. So yeah. This sure is Danganronpa writing.

KURARA OOSUZUKI

I was off about her the most probably - I wouldn't really call her a chuunibyou anymore, she falls into the Rich Bitch Ojou-sama archetype except that for some godforsaken reason she wears a giant tomato on her head.

Honestly theres very little in her design that could have given me the impression, besides maybe the ruffled blouse you can kinda make out beneath her giant fucking mask. She's haughty and annoying, kinda like Byakuya except that I cant imagine she fulfills the same role as he does - in part because I imagine it would be really hard to take your rival antagonist seriously if she looks like that.

For some reason her weapon is a bejeweled shovel - i imagine everyones weapons have some sort of symbolism, but i couldnt imagine what shovels have to do with her.

MOKO MOJIRO

I don't have much else to add, I think her joyous whimsy was pretty evident in her character design from the moment i saw her. She does seem to be the type to overexert herself for some reason, given the fact that we see her reassuring Not Karua while laying on a bed.

Yuri.

NOZOMI KIRIFUJI

Here we are. I had a sneaking suspicion, but it looks like we finally have confirmation. "Nozomi" is not the game character as Karua (Takumi's childhood friend). These are definitely two different characters.

Right. Anyway,

I expected that this would be the twist. These games always have an amnesiac character, and this time around it's not the protagonist that's fallen victim to it. But is it really amnesia, or is she truly a different person? Or did Karua even exist at all? Is Nozomi the original?

Anyway, out of all the characters in the game, Nozomi stands out not just because of her similarity to Takumi's dead childhood friend. All the characters wear black uniforms when in battle EXCEPT her. When she transforms into combat mode, she doesn't shed blood like everyone else either - instead being bathed in blue light.

Why is that? Is she like a robot? Her uniform has robotic attachments that are absent in everyone else's uniform, so it's not a farfetched idea. But that's about as far as my theories go. Who she is, her relation to Karua, etc. I have no theories at the moment lmao. Kodaka has already pulled the clones and twin sisters twist before, and while nothing is stopping him from doing it again, I wonder if he came up with a new batshit plot twist. Maybe the real Karua were all the corpses we've made along the way.

Poor Takumi she does not fuck with him.

As a closing note, "Nozomi" as a name means hope. So make of that what you will.

#last defense academy #the hundred line #im a hater at heart sorry

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