#is a person learning that she wants love considered WEAK??
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Okay, heads up before I say this, do note that I haven't had the courage to watch Wish myself in the nearby theatres due to what people have said (man, I almost did, but it comes much later in my place, and reviews went out first).
I will only be watching it on Disney Plus if it ever comes there if my family just so happens to be subscribed to it at the time, since I still want to see what went wrong in that movie myself (and go into instant denial of what the movie could've been).
I do have a rough idea about what happens from analysis videos and reviews, but let me know if I got something wrong.
So I saw this post a few days ago and was just randomly thinking about it, specifically the idea of the Princess Character was supposed to have a wish that's only half of the message, it is a wish that's also missing something for it to be complete.
Putting together the dots, I realized that this was actually the original purpose of "This Wish". It was SUPPOSED to be missing something.
And looking more into it, I realized what the original intended theme of Wish was in the concepts, and I am in shambles.
Wish's theme was originally about the importance of having your own wish. That it's okay to want something for yourself.
If I'm right about this, we weren't just robbed, they also burnt everything and nuked it. No way this didn't have any corporation meddling. They ruined what would've been a classic, not just with a love story, but with such a unique message when it comes to wishes and love.
Buckle yourselves up.
I personally love "This Wish", at least on its own anyway, listening to it a lot and just envisioning what the film could've been.
When thinking about it, I realized there was indeed something missing about "This Wish", something Asha is leaving out throughout the song.
Herself.
The song talks about Asha wishing for something more for her community for her people, but if you think about the lyrics closely, you realize that Asha actually leaves herself out of the equation, what she wants for herself out of all of this.
Looking back at what apparently happens in the film, this seems to be a constant running theme for Asha. Well, there was an attempt anyway.
So apparently, Asha is said to have "too caring" as a weakness, the Queen also says she is "generous", "cares for the people". What's even more striking is the fact that Asha seemingly doesn't even have a wish. And then she sings a wish for the people, but not for herself.
Yes, I have heard that this wasn't executed well, was shown through more words than actions. But this seems to be somewhat consistent enough that I can't help but think this is intentional...
What if that's originally supposed to be what sets up her character arc? A girl who thinks of the wishes and wants of others, but never what she wants for herself? A girl who is too selfless.
That's it. Maybe the reason why we don't get Asha learning from her weakness, or get a any closure on her character arc was because they have removed the very thing that was supposed to make her grow as a character.
The Starboy.
Yes, everyone is crying over the scrapped love interest, something we havent had in... 10 years? Me included. Dammit.
But perhaps what makes his removal more tragic is that it may have done more damage to the story than we thought, to the point it even destroyed the original theme of the story, and the character arc Asha was supposed to go through.
Because if I am right about Asha's character, then Starboy is exactly what she needed. She NEEDS a love interest for her to learn what's missing. Since her character revolves around selflessness, she needs a something that makes her wish for something for herself, something that makes her whole wish thing in the movie to be more personal. And perhaps, it takes love.
The film Tangled even touches on this concept a bit. Where in the end, Eugene says that Rapunzel has become his new dream, and Rapunzel says that he was hers.
"At All Costs" (demo ver.) isn't just some love song. It's actually the very song where Asha slowly realizes her own wish, a wish not for others, but also for herself. A wish for love. For Star. Maybe at this point she's still oblivious about her own wants, but this is the moment where in her heart, this is what she wants.
And interestingly, Star probably would've had the exact same character arc, despite possibly being the opposite to Asha in personality. He's the personification of a wishing star, someone who grants the wishes for others, but never something for himself. For the first time, through Asha, even stars can have wishes and wants of their own. There's a hint of that in this one line.
"If you ever told me the feeling you'd bring"
"I'd think it untrue."
This seems to describe how impossible the situation should've been for him, falling in love with a human.
"Leave you here, I don't want to..."
"I want to..."
"...Love you as one does"
And he doesn't want to leave.
Two characters, who live in servitude for others, learn the same lesson through their love for each other, that there's nothing wrong with wanting something for themselves. Love becomes their wish, their want.
And that's not a bad thing.
I read your post about this subject, a running theme in Disney is that you must have faith, be kind, and your wish is granted.
Asha is supposed to be a character who embodies this, she is supposed to be a character full of love and brings happiness for her people while also being a character of faith and supposedly with enough faith to wish on a star.
So she fulfills the criteria of getting a wish granted, making it all the more fitting that a Star is able to come down for her wish.
Yet ironically, she is actually missing her own wish.
Maybe that's a part of what the journey was supposed to be about. Star comes down, but not just to help Asha's people, but help her realize what her wish is so that it could be granted. The journey was supposed to be about Star trying to figure out Asha's wish while Asha tries to find out what is going on in the kingdom with Star's help (I personally think Asha found out Magnifico's schemes too early in the film).
Its interesting because the two having the same goal here is what leads to them learning the story's message. Two characters, trying to fulfill the wish of the other, forcing both to realize what they want for themselves.
I think this could be partly why Star was going to be a playful character loke Peter Pan, it's actually just him trying to understand what Asha wants, and thus, he tries to understand who Asha is. It's a star trying to understand a human being through his own wacky ways.
But through their journey, Star ends up being mesmerised by what he finds in Asha, and Asha is charmed by Star's antics and starts to understand who she is through him.
Having your own wants and needs is okay. Wishing something for yourself is okay.
But it's not some simple, one-sided message either, something that another movie (*ahem*, Raya) was heavily criticised for. This is where the original villains come in.
Remember how the villains were supposed to be Magnifico and Amaya together? A Villain couple? How that's clearly meant to be a juxtaposition to Star and Asha?
If Asha and Star is all about servitude for others, then maybe the Queen and King were supposed to be the opposite, representative of the lesson that Asha and Star eventually learns but taken to the extreme: the selfishness of love. Because love can be selfish and cruel too. (The subversion of what love has been depicted in so many Disney films)
"At All Costs" can have a double meaning. Such a title can have such negative connotations. When you pursue love no matter what, to the point you take away and even hurt those around you for it. They're the definition of "I will sacrifice the world if it means protecting you." kind of thing.
Remember how I said that Star and Asha represent the theme of selflessness by granting people's wishes rather than themselves?
And how in the film, Magnifico TAKES WISHES? Notice something there?
Asha and Star giving, Magnifico and Amaya taking?
Yep, it was all supposed to be a metaphor. Selflessness vs selfishness, giving away vs keeping to yourselves.
The wishes themselves weren't supposed to be the theme, they were probably originally a metaphor for the theme. They represent the wants of the people, Asha and Star serves for them, Magnifico and Amaya takes them away and keeps them for themselves.
This could've been such a unique take on the villains and also their villain song if they went this route. Instead of truly just going against the message, they would've served the second half of the lesson that Asha and Star needs, a warning of what would happen if you do follow the moral and taken it to the extreme. It's the kind of thing that another movie, Raya and the Last Dragon, needed when it came to their moral. This adds complexity to the story's theme. This gives that crucial balance that other films can miss.
Asha and Star would learn that its okay to not be so selfless all the time, but it is also through Magnifico and Amaya that they learn it's not okay to become purely selfish either. They can both serve the people around them while also have pursuing their own wants and needs.
And so, the villain couple gets defeated because they failed to change and grow like Asha and Star did. They never learn altruism, the importance of giving as well.
Oh goodness... imagine a scene where Star sacrifices himself for Asha, she cries for him, and instead of him saying something conforting to Asha, he goes "But I don't want to leave you..." like ALSJSKSNND. He gets resurrected because Asha's wishes for him to come back, and then happy ending but MAN.
And this whole message and theme? If you look at it more, you realize that this even has an underlying subtext about SELF-LOVE.
What a powerful, deep and complex message. If they had went with this and executed it correctly, we could've had a beautiful and most profounding story about the complexities of love, an instant Disney classic in this modern era, joining the ranks of the great movies this year.
And you know what... they threw it all away.
WIthout Starboy, it's all just gone. And they had to make another moral lesson for the movie because they can't do love stories now apparently????
It seems they still kept this "flaw" with Asha, because a character needs flaws.
But with Star being changed, they couldn't make her learn from it. They tried to keep this flaw, but they ended up making her personal life obsolete, because she's no longer allowed to have her own "wants" without going against this established character flaw. Which is funny, cause Wish seems to reveal her being being a bit selfish too. Nothing makes sense with every single trace of the "romantice love" themes being scrapped. She became a character with nothing for herself, and still nothing in the end.
WHAT.
Disney characters often if not, ALWAYS had an "I wish for this" song, they even emphasized the importance of this when making "This Wish".
But they were always something that the character wanted for themselves. The OG Disney Princess had "find true love" as wish for herself, and you're telling me Asha's character arc could've THAT as the point of her CHARACTER ARC???? Are you kidding me!?!?
Imagine, you write a story where the literal moral lesson of the story "it's okay to want to fall in love", the perfect way to bring it full circle, back to the first Disney Princess film, and then Disney just goes "NOPE, SCRAP IT"???
Its so tragic, and also HILARIOUS just thinking at the sheer irony of it all.
You DESTROYED such a beautiful message that also has a subtext of SELF LOVE, on learning that you can serve the the community better by realizing your own wants and needs first????? A subversion yet also a beautiful tribute to the previous Disney films that come before????
I SWEAR IF THIS WAS THE ORIGINAL INTENDED MESSAGE OF WISH, WALT DISNEY, YOU BETTER COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW-
Disney doesn't need to change "the formula." That's the last thing that Wish proves.
What Wish proves is that "the formula" only works when you know why the ingredients are in it, and you use them the correct way.
The Princess Character is meant to wish for only half of the movie's message, and go through an adventure that teaches her what the other half is; what her dream was missing. Ariel dreamed of understanding but she was missing love. Tiana dreamed of achieving her goals but she was missing faith. Jasmine dreamed of freedom but she was missing trust. Belle dreamed of adventure but she was missing being understood.
The Villain is meant to highlight the opposite of the movie's message. Jafar gets what he wants through trickery and manipulation; that's the opposite of Aladdin's "truth will set you free" message, and he gets imprisoned in a lamp. Scar thinks being a King is having his way all the time and can't learn from his past of living in Mufasa's shadow; that's the opposite of The Lion King's "Let the past remind you of your responsibility to selflessness." Gaston loves only himself and is always obsessed with appearances; that's the opposite of Beauty & the Beast's "true love is found within a heart of self-sacrifice." That's what makes them such good villains. (and that clear direction is what drives good villain songs, since Magnifico's is what everyone is talking about)
The sidekick is supposed to compare/contrast with the main character's qualities. Abu is a greedy thief, which is what everyone in Agrabah thinks Aladdin is; when he scolds Abu and teaches him selflessness, it shows us who Aladdin actually is. Flounder is easily frightened and looks at the glass half-full; when Ariel coaxes him and leads by example, we see her bravery and positivity reflected in Flounder's tiny character arc. Timon & Pumbaa do whatever they want all day just like young Simba always dreamed of; when Simba goes to live with them, he finds that "getting his way all the time" makes him forget who he really is and feel empty.
The setting is supposed to show off the characters and highlight the movie's message. Rapunzel's tower is designed to be pretty on the inside because of her influence; if it were too dark and prison-shaped, we'd wonder why she didn't work up the courage to leave sooner. Just like how Quasimodo has made his corner of the bell-tower beautiful, too; they're taught the world is cruel and they're not strong enough for it, but they make their own worlds beautiful enough to hint that that's wrong right from the start. Ariel's grotto is shaped like a tower with no roof so that she only has one window to the forbidden Surface, and it's the light that comes from that forbidden world into her dark grotto which literally makes her able to see human things differently. Tiana's apartment has no interesting features except her father's picture, a perfectly made bed, a drawer with no extra outfits but stuffed with tip money, and only two dresses; both of which are for work.
None of that is happening in Wish, because they didn't know why the formula ingredients are there. Disney needs to understand and return to the formula the right way; forgetting it was what got them here.
Asha learns nothing to add to her dream, unless you count "the power to grant wishes is in me." Which you shouldn't, because we didn't even know she was confused about that until the animals sang a song that was completely off-topic and she had the chance to jump in and sing "I'm a Star!"
Magnifico does not demonstrate the opposite of Wish's message effectively because his character has nothing to do with a philosophy against making wishes, and everything to do with power. (He is the strongest character in the film. But because the message and core concept of what wishes are are so bad, that's not saying much.)
Valentino, and Asha's friends, do not highlight anything about her character through compare/contrast. Valentino is brave and all over the place. Her friends are seven-dwarfs parodies. Happy, Doc, Sneezy, Dopey, Bashful, Sleepy, Grumpy. None of that contrasts with Asha's vague characterization of "cares too much." None of it compares to that characterization, either.
The setting is empty. There are no interesting details that teach you something about any of the characters. None in Asha's home, none in the neat-and-tidy one-dimensional forest, none in the Rosas square, and none in the bland, empty castle. Magnifico's study is the closest anything gets; there's a loose concept that all of Asha's friends have to work together to open the roof, and take a leap of faith to weigh the pulley system down. Unfortunately, none of these characters is shown struggling to work together, OR to take leaps of faith, at all, before this point.
The ingredients of the formula are in Wish. They're just not being used correctly. This is how not to use the formula; it's not the formulas fault. If it ain't broke. They should never have let people convince them to try and fix it.
#wish 2023#Disney#character analysis#Asha#the Disney formula#writing#my blood is boiling rn#I have so much spite in me now that I had to revive this dead acc#is a person learning that she wants love considered WEAK??#get it together Disney#Meta#wish#disney wish#walt disney
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NFWMB - part 1
Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”
Wc: 4.3k
Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader
Warnings: mentions of violence and SA
A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)
P.S. header = pov change
General Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Harry Styles was not one for regrets.
His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.
Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.
It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.
Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.
He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.
He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.
He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.
After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.
He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.
Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.
Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.
Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.
Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.
Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.
"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."
Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.
"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean�� she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:
"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."
"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.
It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.
"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.
"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"
"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.
Y/N had never been one for risks.
She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?
It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.
Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.
They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.
Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.
Until a few months ago.
It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.
It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.
The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.
They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.
"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.
"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.
"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.
Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.
Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.
"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.
"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.
"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.
"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.
"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"
"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."
"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.
"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.
"I— I work on a different floor."
"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.
"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.
"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.
"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.
"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.
"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.
Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.
She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.
Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.
Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.
Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.
It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.
She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.
When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.
"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.
He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.
Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.
"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.
"Harry, this is Y/N."
For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...
She looked so... innocent?
He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.
"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.
"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.
Angel.
That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.
"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"
The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."
Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.
This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?
Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.
His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.
When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.
"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle. Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.
"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"
Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."
"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"
Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.
"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.
"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.
Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.
"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.
"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.
"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.
"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be." He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.
"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."
Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.
"I can teach you, if you want."
The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.
"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.
"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.
"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,
"Just think about it, alright?"
Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.
"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.
"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.
"Anytime." He winked at her.
"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.
"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.
He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.
"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.
He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.
Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.
In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.
Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…
#harry styles#fanfic#writing#fanfiction#blurb#harry#one direction#smut#one shot#excerpt#harry styles fic#harry fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry edward styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one shot#harryedwardstyles#harry styles angst#harry styles fan fic#harry styles smut#harry styles x fem!reader
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Those letters for his students was like Gojo’s way of showing consideration for them.
That’s what Geto Suguru, the “Gojo translator”, would say to them, if he was there.
I mean, there was a reason they were best friends - Geto understood him the best. He helped him learn how to (and the importance of) connecting to others - how to not be lonely.
It was the same in the scene with Kuroi. Right before he shouted for Gojo over the time, he just instinctively knew how to connect with Gojo and helped others with sympathising with Gojo.
I didn’t play the JJK game but I think the undercurrent dynamics is similar. Their bond. The exclusivity. Love. The whole breakup was about their friendship. The change the new generation got was also due to the path forged by them. As it stands, Gojo is shown to be largely misunderstood and nobody aside from Yuta has shown much affection for Gojo. Maybe Yuji ... to some degree. But I digress.
Maybe it’s an unpopular opinion, but considering how Geto-centred Gojo’s GIGA Character book was, he was likely influenced by Geto’s strong protective love for his “family”.
It makes sense to me that Gojo thought it would be important to put the students’ minds at ease with any thoughts/questions about their family. Hence the letters to help tie up loose ends.
Megumi was shown to be thinking about his father, whin he assumed was out there somewhere. Even if he didn’t want to know, there is a subconscious level of unfinished business from thinking this. And to know that Gojo killed him, may have helped him realise that his sensei had his back all this while. He was worth protecting all this while. That chapter of his life can truly close.
And just how bloody typical of his sensei, who has no “delicate-ness” about him!
As a sensei, and as a person, Gojo always protected others from his own personal concerns. He and Geto both stubbornly lived & fought “alone” because this was just their belief as the burden of the strongest = to protect others. The line was drawn and Gojo only ever wanted Geto to understand him, hence his conversation in 236. Only ever needed Geto by his side: hence his only complex was Geto leaving him behind.
We see this in how Shoko felt distant from them both. Stating in her inner monologue how she could never love either of them, but she was there - insinuating what they had between them was not something she could give (love) but her friendship was there if only Gojo let her in. And we see it in how, when she tried to connect with Gojo post-unsealing, by including Geto’s body as someone to be retrieved, he was a bit taken aback, starting his sentence with a long pause “……...” and keeping it simple / not elaborating (だな - it’s like the equivalent of a “yeah” but implies agreement).
Also, the fact the students and others can joke and call him an idiot, etc. means he really hid it well. Gojo protected them all. (As a teacher and adult should, I guess.)
I’m reminded of this scene.
Geto helped Gojo empathise & “not bully the weak”, but to also consider what else may be important... even if they may not think so themselves.
Until they receive what they thought they didn’t want, only to realise it was what they needed after all.
Cuz… y’kow: people (especially children) don’t always know what they want or need.
Sometimes what you want isn’t what you need. What you need isn’t necessarily what you want.
Gojo & Geto lived through that too... didn’t they? On so many levels… wanting, needing, denying, losing, yearning. Carrying their burdens they had nobody to share with. Making decisions on their own. Giving to the other a piece of their heart. Sacrificing themselves. Accepting each others loneliness as their own. Thinking they were better off loving the other by being apart.
The painful lessons that shaped the way for the new world. Children given the protection from The Strongest Sorcerer of the Modern Era. Granted a world with fewer curses for 10 years due to the Strongest Curse User.
Children who had adults to guide, protect, and care for them.
Children who do not have to be killed for the mistakes of others, who were forced to commit sins, or for being born a certain way.
I think every single sorcerer who were adults helped the kids in some way. The layers and layers of this story is just... overwhelmingly beautiful.
Much remains to be seen now. I’m worried that Yuta will have to live in Gojo’s body and that Kenjaku’s eerie words of Yuta being “the next Gojo Satoru” will extend beyond that battle.
People on X seem to be speculating whether a world without curses will exist (going back to jjk 0 and Geto’s ideals). What of the barriers without tengen? Some question reality as we are being shown - is it an elaborate dream? Hm.
I hope for the plant/flower trio at least... Megumi and Yuji can use their shared tragedy as vessels who committed sins to bond and support one another. Nobara is a great buffer and heroine in her own right. Their dynamics are really amazing. Independent, yet so bonded.
I’d love to see Gojo & Geto at peace. I guess whatever happens, chapter 236 is a bit like salvation. And doesn’t Megumi’s smiling pic (above) look similar? If these two smiled as if they had no regrets , we can assume Megumi smiled sincerely upon receiving the letter, too.
As long as Gege doesn’t do anything to change it.
Please please don’t. They deserve a reward for their hard work and sacrifice!
#reposting from my Twitter#now called x#just my thoughts#jjk ramblings#jjk brainrot#more word vomit#satosugu#satosugu itafushi#itafushi#jjk satosugu#jjk itafushi#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#geto suguru#fushigoro megumi#stsg#jjk spoilers#jjk analysis#jujutsu kaisen itafushi#jjk#jujutsu kaisen analysis#satosugu angst#jjk 268#jjk hidden inventory#Gojo’s letters
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Game of survival
Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!rebel! reader Summary: The worst enemy is the person who betrayed you when you trusted them with all your heart. The person you told all your secrets to, the person you loved more than your life—the best friend who suddenly turned on you and stabbed you in the back and right through your heart, using your weaknesses they learned with the time they spent with you. You and Coriolanus have been each other's worst enemies since that fateful day at the lake in District 12... Inspired by: Game of survival - Ruelle Warning: 18+; a little smut; Coriolanus chases you around his presidential palace; I had a completely different idea for it, but it turned out that way...; Enjoy!; Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
You hold your breath as you sit on the roof of a building.
Through Sniper Rifle, you watch carefully as the president of Panem gets out of his car. You only see the outline of his bleached blonde hair before he disappears into his presidential palace. The car drives away, and peacekeepers start circulating around the building again. An impregnable fortress. Seemingly.
"I hope you have a plan." Joseph mumbles next to you, moving into position next to you. "We must act quickly tonight. Get in and out before the peacekeepers find out what are we going to do."
"First, you have to shoot him. I won't leave there without seeing the life drain from his eyes." You reply, preparing to leave the roof.
"Do not worry about it. Everyone would like to be in my place. I don't miss the target." He replies confidently, with an arrogance in his voice that you don't like. But you won't lecture him. The other hunter never liked being told how to do his job. You caught animals; he caught real people. He had more experience in this area than you. But could Coriolanus still be considered human?
"That's not what I'm thinking about. It's a game of survival. Him or us. You have to play it smart. Don't underestimate him just because he's from the Capitol, Jospeh."
"I bet he didn't even hold a gun in those well-groomed hands of his." You shudder. The screams of Sejanus and Lucy Gray echo in your head. Coriolanus' screams. The sounds made by mockingjays...
"I doubt it." You answer briefly and go out to the staircase.
You pass through several of its inhabitants before reaching the basement. Before you open one of the rooms, you look around to make sure you are alone in the residential basements. You quickly open and close the door behind you. You move the painting, some kind of marriage portrait of a general and his wife, and go through a hidden passage. It was a tunnel dug under the building, which led to a small room where the most important members of the rebellion slept. The rest were to arrive during the day. For a special evening event.
"You need to be more careful." Meg tells you as you return to base. "The peacekeepers seem to be breeding in their barracks. I saw twice as many of them on the streets as yesterday. And guess what?"
She slaps her hand flat on the table. You walk up and lean down, seeing the wanted poster for you. Alive, not dead. Whoever turned you in would get a ridiculous amount of money.
"I have a nicer jaw shape." You comment and pick up the wanted poster. You throw it in the air and aim the dagger at it, nailing it to the earthy wall of your shelter.
"I don't know what you did to Snow, but even his advisor, who ran his presidential campaign and defected to join us, isn't so... passionately wanted by him and his men as you are." She says, wincing when she can't get the dagger out of the wall. You roll your eyes and walk over to her, pulling out the dagger easily and handing it to her with a mocking smile.
"Old disagreements and a minor difference of opinion." You tell her, walking over to the map of the Capitol and the plan of the presidential palace. "I doubt he even remembers why he's so pissed at me. That was ages ago. 10 years. Maybe more. But as you can see, bastards like him hold grudges for a long time."
"People gossip, you know. That you are not suitable for this job. That you had some feelings for him that would make you hesitate to pull the trigger when necessary." She says, walking towards you. She places her hand on your back, making you look at her. "If you don't want to, don't say it. But I need to be completely sure that you won't betray us."
"I'm not the one who is supposed to kill him. We have Jospeh to do that. But believe me, if necessary, my hand won't shake. I am a hunter. My job is to kill. And an animal like him is well within my hunting range. He... he has done too much for me to feel sorry for him. And believe me, if anyone has a reason to kill him, it's me. I have something to take revenge for. So if you don't trust me, then trust my rage. After all, there is nothing like a mad woman, is there?" You ask, sending her a meaningful smirk.
And even though you pretend to be so confident in front of her and any other rebels, deep down, you know that it's not all that simple. Things between you and Coriolanus... were complicated. And anyone else in your situation would hate him with all their hearts, but you couldn't just stop loving him. Maybe you were actually weak, but if you learned anything from Coroilanus Snow, it was how to pretend to be stronger than others. Even when you were in a shitty situation.
"Good. Prepare yourself. We start at dusk. For the Districts."
"And for all the fallen. Let the odds be forever dead." You finish.
Meg nods and leaves you alone with the maps and plans. Your task was simple. Sneak through the guests at a masquerade party, get into his office, and plant a bomb. Just in case. Only if Joseph hadn't managed to kill him. You were also supposed to set a few other traps for President Snow. And since you were the best hunter in Panem, there was no one better for that job.
You've been preparing for this for months. You have figured out all the escape routes, emergency exits, peackeeper patrols, and their plans to secure the reception at the presidential palace.
Tonight, everything will be resolved, your past will be finally a closed past, whether you want it or not.
Either he or you will die tonight. And if you were sure about something, you were sure that you wouldn't pass away so easily.
You never expected that Coriolanus Snow would become your worst enemy.
Or at least that's what you think as you drive through the Capitol. You sit in the backseat, staring at the streets and people passing by, as your chauffeur and fellow rebel take you to your destination.
Ever since Lucy Gray returned from the Hunger Games, she has been praising her mentor. She said that the boy she met gave her invaluable support and help, and that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have survived on her own in the arena.
Her stories make you imagine him as an angel. Blond curls, sky blue eyes, helping a poor girl from the district, a man with a good heart—everything fit. And you were confirmed in that belief when you saw him for the first time and realised how handsome he really was.
How were you supposed to know then that Coriolanus Snow was really an angel, but a fallen one? How could you recognise the devil through the disguise he had created for himself?
You were certainly not the first or the last to fall under his spell, to believe in the façade of a good man, to see him as a hurt boy who needed love and tenderness. At least you wanted to believe you weren't the only one naive enough to ignore all the clues and signs that he wasn't such a saint after all.
It started inconspicuously. Like all disasters. And you, having lived in District 12 for so long, knew very well what bad fate, misfortune, and catastrophe were.
But nothing could have prepared you for the coming of Coriolanus Snow.
He was charming. Oh God, and how much he was. Sejanus didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, but Snow picked up on every little detail, no matter how insignificant it may have been at first sight. Lucy Gray fell into Plinth's arms. And you became infatuated with a devil who seemed to be as observant as you.
"Lucy Gray's friends are my friends." The brunette guy says that and takes a step forward. You shift your cautious gaze to him, but he doesn't seem to notice that you're wary and reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Sejanus. Nice to meet you."
"Y/N." You say, removing your hand from his grip. "I used to say that too. And then she took me to feed her snakes. The poisonous ones. The worst 3 minutes of my life."
"3 minutes?" He asks curiously. You notice someone moving behind him—another man—who is whispering something to Lucy.
"She ran away screaming." Your friend giggles and throws her arm on Sejanus' shoulder. You roll your eyes at her as she laughs at you, not hiding the smile that begins to form on your lips.
"That's not true. I didn't scream. I saw a rabbit and went hunting." You mutter, feigning offence, which only intensifies her laughter.
"A hunter who is afraid of snakes?"
Someone's question distracts you from Lucy Gray. Behind her, you notice the man who was whispering something to her earlier. He steps out of her shadow and stands a few steps away from you. You look him up and down, and by the way Lucy is comfortable with the other peacekeeper and his appearance, you assume he must be her mentor. Coriolanus Snow. And damn her, he was really hot.
"I am afraid of what I have to be afraid of, private Snow. Just like a hunter should. You never know when the danger will come that you will turn from a predator to a prey." He watches you carefully, listening to your every word. And by the small smile he can't contain, you know that you've managed to make him curious and defend yourself enough for him not to discredit you.
"It's Coryo when we are among friends." He says this, nodding at you. He does not extend his hand to you like Sejanus did, nor does he attempt any other greeting that requires physical contact. Weird. You wonder if he would be attentive enough to sense your discomfort.
"We should get going. The Covey is probably waiting for us. Will you come tomorrow? I think we have a lot to talk about." The brunette asks them with a smile and stands on your other side, taking your arm.
"Su..."
"We will escort you." Coriolanus interrupts his friend, still looking at you. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you. There are... quite a lot of people hanging around here tonight." His gaze shifts to Lucy Gray for a moment, and he nods for her to lead.
"He may be a rebel, but he is also chivalrous. Come then, gentlemen." She laughs and places her other hand on the crook of Sejanus' elbow. Coriolanus adjusts and walks on your other side, maintaining an appropriate distance, so he is close but not touching you or brushing his arm against yours.
At one point, the crowd of people won't let you walk four in a row, so Lucy and Sejanus take the lead. You and Coryo follow behind them, a little apart. There's a strange silence between you. You shift your gaze to his, and you see that he is already watching you.
"I think I should thank you for saving her. It's not that easy to keep that tramp out of danger. And believe me, I know what I'm saying; I've known her since we were children."
"Yes, she is very… alive. But that was just my job as her mentor." He says this as you both walk down the dark streets. The moonlight and a few lanterns illuminate it so much that you can walk freely in the dark without tripping over any protruding stones.
"Was it also your duty to become a peacekeeper and come to 12?" Your question clearly surprises him. He didn't expect anyone to connect... the events or have the courage to ask him about it. Lucy Gray didn't do it. But you weren't Lucy Gray. You were better. And he was starting to see it.
"It wasn't... planned." He says this and clears his throat, looking at Lucy Gray and Sejanus laughing together about something. "But I'm not going to stay here long."
"Did you come here for her or for him?" You ask, seeing his jaw clench as he watches them both.
"None. I just had to do it." He responds dryly, clearly not wanting to talk about it further. You didn't know who he was jealous of, but you could recognise that feeling in others' eyes perfectly. And he was definitely jealous. You only wondered about what. About Lucy Gray, Sejanus, or just about what was between them?
"A lonely wolf. I see." You comment and turn your head towards the Hanging Tree.
Coriolanus takes the opportunity to get a better look at you. You don't have an outfit as bold and colourful as Lucy Gray. You were rather quiet and thoughtful. He couldn't' say that he wasn't captivated by the aura that his former tribute had around her, but he somehow found himself feeling better in the silence between the two of you than he ever felt around Lucy Gray and her wild personality.
You had also really beautiful eyes.
"And what about you?" He asks, wanting to get your attention again.
At first, he stayed close to you just to spite Lucy Gray, but after she obviously ignored him, he had no intention of talking to you anymore. But something about you drew him to you. And maybe it was your caution; maybe he wanted to break it and set it as a challenge, a distraction while he was in District 12, or maybe he just wanted attention? He did not know. It irritated him how much he wanted to see your eyes sparkling teasingly in the lamplight again.
"Me?" You looked up at him, giving him your full attention. He almost smiled. Almost.
"Are you remaining here for her or for someone else? I know there is a need for good hunters in many other and better districts. Why are you stuck here when you could be hunting somewhere else? Have a better place to live?" He asks, unable to understand you.
You obviously didn't feel comfortable in District 12. No one could. And he knew from Lucy Gray's histories and his brief observation of your actions that someone like you, with your skills, could easily get a transfer to a wealthier district. But you didn't. He wanted to know why.
"What if I like it here?" You ask with a shrug. He frowns, looking around. You are passing by mouldy buildings, some houses are made of ood—you say it while they walk down the poorest alley in 12. Coriolanus believes he saw a rat running in front of you, but he doesn't want to think about it.
"Here?" He asks with disbelief and a hint of disgust in his voice, to which you giggle, almost laughing.
And instead of Coriolanus being offended and threatening you (he's a peacekeeper after all; he could make you spend a day in detention, and if you were anyone else, he definitely would do that), but somehow Snow can't do anything but smile, while admiring you.
However, he takes his eyes off you, even though he's tempted to look at you longer. He can't afford to have another weakness. To have another Lucy Gray. Although he doesn't think you'd push him away that easily for Sejanus or anyone else, like she did.
You and he were similar. Both of you were withdrawn, silent, observers, taking into account the threats. You did not play heroes with bravado and did not count on good luck, only on their own minds and skills.
"No, not here. I am not mad yet." You say, snapping him from his thoughts."The forests are beautiful. The fields. Rivers and lakes. The rest of Panem is industrialized. Concrete and factories everywhere. There is... a kind of peace here if you close your eyes to certain things. Maybe you will stay here long enough to find out about it by yourself." And something about you—the warm tone of your voice and the sparkles in your eyes as you talk about your favourite places—makes Coriolanus feel a sudden urge to stay here for a while—just as you suggested. Since he was going to be here for a while anyway, he might as well have some fun... right?
"I could use a guide." He says this before he can even think about it, as he sees Lucy Gray slowing down, obviously getting closer to your house.
He didn't know why he cared so much about seeing you again. You were nothing. Just a district hunter. He would leave the 12, find a way to get back to the Capitol, and forget about everything that brought him here. But damn, that little smile of yours made him feel butterflies in his stomach. He was pathetic. And he hated himself for it.
"I can be one."
"Aren't you afraid that people will see you with the peacekeeper?" You raise your eyebrows, shocked by his words. "I saw you looking around. Don't worry. She specifically directs us to streets that are... less frequented." He reveals his observations to you, and for the first time since you two introduced yourself, he sees that the note of fear and caution has disappeared from your eyes for a moment.
Your curious look causes him to have heart palpitations. That was weird for him. Maybe he was sick? He just hoped he hadn't caught anything from those bar rats.
"You really are perceptive, aren't you?" You ask, and he shivers, feeling your analytical gaze on him.
Coriolanus can't say he doesn't enjoy the thrill of excitement as you both try to solve the secrets the other is hiding. Talking to you was… nice. Most of the peacekeepers were as dumb as nails. Muscle mass and nothing else. And he had grown tired of Sejanus's moralising talk a long time ago. Talking to you would be good for him in some way. He wouldn't go completely crazy here. At least that's how he tried to explain to himself his strange and sudden desire to meet you again. And often. Very often.
"I was told so." He says this as you arrive at the door of your house. Coriolanus looks around carefully and is pleased to see that this is one of the better, quieter alleys. He makes a mental note to take more night shifts here. Just to keep an eye on you.
Before you walk into your house with Lucy Gray, you turn to look at him one last time.
"Well, I hope you won't miss the Capitol too much... Coryo." And when his nickname leaves your lips, he knows that this won't be the last time he sees you.
He watches as the door closes behind the two of you, taking in the last sight of you. He returns with Sejanus to their unit, completely ignoring his chatter about Lucy Gray as he thinks about you. Over time, he will find that he will do this more and more often. Thinking about you.
But neither of you knows how much you will regret this night in the future.
You walk up the stairs of the presidential palace wearing a beautiful white dress. Your mask fits to the top of your face, revealing only your mouth, chin and part of your jaw. You feel terrible, but you have to somehow blend in with the crowd of rich assholes who are enjoying their president's birthday party while district children tremble at the thought of the upcoming 22nd Hunger Games.
The only thought that comforts you is that he will die before dawn. And that you can have a glass of champagne.
You give your cloak and fake invitation to some peacekeeper the poor avox who are waiting at the entrance to serve everyone gathered. It makes you want to vomit when you think about how the man you let touch yourself became such a monster who decided to sew their mouths shut instead of cutting out their tongues.
Of course, with a red thread.
You go deeper into the room. You try to stay in the crowd, not on the outskirts, so as not to catch anyone's eye and so HE won't be able to see you. It may have been 12 years, but you're not sure if he forgot about you enough to not recognise your figure in the crowd. Maybe you tormented his nightmares as much as he tormented yours. You hoped to. Bastard didn't deserve to sleep soundly like a baby.
You're standing in a group of people, listening and laughing at the stories being told, and you're about to excuse yourself and browse around the big villa a bit and place some of the traps when suddenly you hear a tapping on a glass. You turn around with the rest of the people, making sure you're neither in the front nor the last row.
You freeze as Coriolanus' voice echoes through the room.
You have prepared for this moment many times. You predicted thousands of different scenarios for your first meeting, after... that special, rainy day at the lake when you went your separate ways. And you thought you were ready to bear the sight of him. But as soon as you look up at him, you feel your heart beat nervously. And not in that exciting way when you see your prey and are ready to attack.
As you sing a forced 'Happy Birthday' with other people after his speech, you allow yourself to steal one brief glance at him. He looks different.
More mature. More dangerous. Stronger. Powerful.
The golden mask, the only one of its kind in the room, covering his nose and just a small part of his face, the part around his eyes and eyebrows, only emphasises this more clearly.
And the red colour of his suit, along with all his... dominant attitude that emanates from him, are enough evidence of the red flag he was that you didn't notice when he was a peacekeeper in a blue uniform. His hair is longer and slicked back with gel, emphasising his rough, hard jawline and piercing blue, icy eyes. The man who stood in the middle of the room was dangerous. So much so that you felt nervous, thinking about how the hell you were going to kill him today.
You had a plan, but you knew that in every pursuit of prey, there were risks that could not be predicted. When hunting a bear, you don't face it with all your strength. You are waiting for the moment to attack. And now, looking at Coriolanus Snow in all his glory, you began to have doubts about your plan and the abilities of the other rebels. Maybe you will have to play the first violin this evening and aim a gun at him yourself. You shiver at even the thought of it.
And then his eyes find yours. For a very short while, but enough to make you shiver under his glance.
He blinks at you, then shifts his gaze to something or someone else. You feel a lump building in your throat, the words of the song being forced out of your mouth with a more and more trembling voice. He recognised you. Or not. You did not know. His subsequent actions didn't indicate it, but he had been staring at you for far too long to be sure of anything.
You don't like how quickly you're losing control.
That's why you leave at the first opportunity, hiding in the bathroom upstairs. You wait for the peacekeeper patrol to pass, and when they go to the second floor, you start setting up traps at the different spots of the presidential palace. You decide to forget about the events from a few minutes ago for a moment. Only peace will save you. You know about it. That's why you do everything to forget about his icy irises.
Well, at least until you have to go back to the ballroom again.
"A little higher." He whispers in your ear behind you, his hand wrapped around yours, as you aim his shotgun at the deer. "Eyes open, breath held, muscles tense."
You shoot and hit the animal. The gun bounces slightly, but Coriolanus holds you close and tight enough that you barely change your position, only trembling slightly as the gun clicks off.
"I prefer arrows, but thanks for showing me how to use it." You say cheekily as you approach the deer you have aimed perfectly at.
He shakes his head at you, slinging the gun over his shoulder. He watches you as you kneel next to the deer, preparing it to be carried to the district.
"You know, my teachings aren't free." He says this as you get up and walk towards the river to wash your hands. He takes the deer's body and obediently follows you.
He had the day off today and decided to use it to spend time with you. Lately, he's been running away from everyone more and more often to walk in the forest with you. You were talking and fooling around. Coriolanus has never felt so... free as with you. He could get used to this. If he hadn't experienced the comforts of the Capitol. He knew you would get used to the capital. Maybe he'd even let you go on little trips and escapades in the woods once he got back there with you as his wife. Of course, only with him. And with peacekeepers guarding you two, he didn't want to end up like his father.
"Isn't it?" You ask with that mischievous smile of yours, washing your hands in the river. "And here I thought you were noble, private Snow."
"Stop it." He growls menacingly as you don't call him by a nickname he loved to hear from your lips. But you can see by the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. A smile spreads across your face as you continue fooling around.
"Only that? You know that I love to tease you too much to just stop..." He cuts you off mid-sentence, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss.
You freeze for a moment, feeling his lips brush against yours and his hand run through the back of your hair. Even if you wanted to pull away from him, you couldn't because of the way he wrapped his hands around you. You should feel trapped and outraged by his behaviour, by the fact that he didn't ask for your permission or leave you the chance to pull away. But all you could do then was grab him by his dog tag and pull him closer to you.
You moan into his mouth as you find out that kissing Coriolanus Snow is the most pleasurable thing in the world.
You place your hands on either side of his neck as he grabs your waist gently, pressing your bodies as close to each other as possible. His lips caress yours gently at first, testing the waters. When he sees that you're not pulling away from him, he deepens the kiss, completely taking over the control that, surprisingly, you willingly give him. You've never been kissed like this in your life. So desperate, so needy, so possessive. And you know that you will never feel this way with anyone else in your life.
And for the first time, you have the opportunity to feel that moment that has been repeated so often in books—kissing someone until you have no more oxygen left in your lungs. Because before him, no one wanted you enough to give you half the sensations that Coriolanus gave you. And you suspected that he felt the same.
"I had this type of payment in mind." He whispers hoarsely, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are closed, giving you the opportunity to admire his face up close. And god, he's perfect. In all his ounces, you can't even imagine how ethereal he must have been in the Capitol. (The perfect devil, tempting you until you fall.)
"Oh... um... well... be careful… with such a low payment you may be… taken advantage of by some girls." You manage to gasp, gathering the remnants of your mind that weren't occupied with the thought of him and the heavy breathing he was taking because of you.
"There is only one girl in this terrible, musty place, for whose special attention I can get anything she whishes." He says this, opening his eyes and cupping your cheek tenderly. And if your nature were any different (or if he would use a little more of his charm on you), you would melt under his touch, but you couldn't resist the opportunity he gave you.
"Anything, you say..." You mutter in mock thought with a smirk. And all Corilanus can do is smirk stupidly when he sees the familiar spark of malice in your eyes.
He enjoyed challenges, and he liked it even more when he beat you every time in your 'little fights and teasing'. He liked that you weren't completely submissive and that you could fight and banter with him instead of trembling in fear and trusting him blindly. You were almost his equal. Not that he was searching for one. But of all the girls, he knows you were the closest to his perfection. He just needed to work on your compliance a little bit before he could take you with him to the Capitol. After all, you couldn't tease him in public.
"Don't tease." He warns, humming as well, a smirk blooming on his lips despite his attempts to fight it off. He could afford a little... frivolity in the district. He would act completely differently in the Capitol, but for now, he enjoyed every carefree moment with you he could get. He couldn't remember the last time he had had to worry about the opinion of society.
"Oh, but that's the funniest thing to do now..." You continue with a smirk, leaning in to steal a kiss from him. He accepts it with a smile that quickly fades as you pull away from him and run away, laughing.
"And what is this?!" He shouts, running after you.
"A hunting lesson! I won't kiss you for yours in return, Snow!" You reply with a laugh, speeding up.
You ran away from him for an hour until you got tired of it all and ran into him laughing, deciding that he'd had enough of him chasing you for now. He immediately took you into his arms and kissed you, holding you tightly to his chest so that his rapidly beating heart was palpable to you. You placed small kisses on his snout as he held you tightly in his embrace, panting.
"Promise you'll never run away from me. That you'll never leave me." You raise your eyebrows in shock at his request, but you don't question it. You simply nod and press a kiss of promise to his lips as he pushes you against the nearest tree.
Your kiss becomes more feverish, more urgent as you feel his hardness through his peacekeeper uniform. Just a few weeks ago, you would have despised yourself for being so close to him. But it was your Coryo. That's why you don't interrupt him when he unzips your pants and takes them and your underwear off in one move.
You hold your breath as he kneels in front of you and grabs your hips with an iron grip. He presses a kiss on your thighs, teasing you and leaving little bites and bruises there before graciously shifting his attention to where you really need it. You moan, biting your lip to keep from screaming as he slowly circles your clit with his tongue, teasing you to no end. He pushes your hips against the tree every time you try to push against his tongue from a different angle. This frustrates you even more, especially after the gun slung over his shoulder shifts, causing the barrel of the shotgun to dig into your stomach.
"Coryo..." You moan, scratching his head as you try and futilely try to grab his close-cropped hair. He moans at the feeling, stimulating you even more.
He takes pity on you, putting more effort into his work as his fingers start to hit the spot that made you lost your mind. The bark of the tree digs into your back, but all you feel is Coriolanus; your entire world is limited to the movements of his fingers that bring you unimaginable pleasure that cannot be described in any words. All you can do is moan his name, which he finds flattering enough to make you cum around his fingers. Although he had no plan to let you cum when he started to play with your sweet cunt. You were making him too soft for you...
His tongue teases you as he licks along your knee, up your thigh, to stop a few moments before the place where you really needed him to reach your peak of pleasure. He smirks and suddenly bites into your thigh, causing a scream of his name from your lips to echo through the forest. He grunts, licking and sucking the spot on your thigh that he bit, feeling how he hardened in his pants by simply sucking your skin and fingering you. He loved every single sound you made because of him. If tasting you on his lips wasn't as tempting for him as it was for now, he would just kneel there and watch how you kept chasing your orgasm on his fingers.
"Scream for me, my little hunter." He says this and leans forward. His nose teases your clit before he finally licks you, testing your taste. He moans as his favourite flavour spreads across his taste buds. If he had you in the Capitol, he would never starve, he thinks as he begins to fuck you with his tongue, collecting everything that his skillful fingers caused to flow from your little pussy. For him. Because of him. His.
You grip his arms tightly, his gun somehow twisted so that it was pressed against your leg and stomach, but you don't care as he kneels in front of you and sucks the senses out of you through your cunt. You can only moan loudly and scream his name, digging your nails into his shoulders as you pull him closer to you as he makes you come. He licks up everything he gets for his work, leaving nothing to leak from your thighs onto the forest floor.
Coriolanus feels his hardness pressing against his pants, but chooses to ignore it. He won't take you like some district barbarian in the woods. He will do it well. Maybe even in the Capitol... you would look beautiful, wrapped in the most expensive sheets. And while you catch your breath and try to recover, he wonders how he's going to get his little hunter with him back to the Capitol when Dr. Gaul replies to the message he sent her.
He adjusts the gun hanging on his shoulder and stands up, licking his fingers off of the remains of your sweet juices. Unimaginable pride rises in his chest, as does a feeling of possessiveness when he sees your knees shaking and you barely standing, leaning on the tree behind you. He chuckles, remembering the sight. He will definitely think about it, while jerking off himself when he will be alone at the barracks.
"I will always catch you. No matter how long it takes." He says, taking you in his arms when he sees that you're unable to stand on your own in your post-orgasm haze. Another thing that increases his ego.
You didn't know how much that sweet promise would turn out to be a bloodthirsty threat. So you let him carry you through the forest as you both headed back to 12.
The next day, you were delivered money in exchange for the deer you and Private Snow had hunted together. From his superior, Commander Hoff. Even then, he was using you for his own gain.
"Are you lost, miss?" You stop in your quick steps. You curse internally when you hear his voice in the hall. You were about to go downstairs and go to the ballroom. But no. Coriolanus Snow always had to screw up your job.
"Mr. President." You say, trying to change your tone of voice as you turn around and see him. "I was just looking for a spare bathroom."
"Ah yes. Women's ones seem to be… very crowded. Have you made it, little bathroom hunter, or do you need help?" He asks, walking over to you. He shouldn't be here. Certainly not that close to you. Meg was supposed to focus his attention on her and flirt with him. You didn't know what the hell he was doing on the first floor instead of in the ballroom celebrating his birthday.
And when he called you a hunter, you tried your hardest not to shiver in fear at the thought of him seeing through you. But if he recognised you, would he act so... calm around you? Peacekeepers would probably have surrounded you long ago if he had...
"I did it, Mr. President. Ah! Happy birthday! May you watch over us for a very long time." You wish him well, and he just smiles. This isn't one of his forced, political smiles. No.
It was a wolfish smile, a dangerous one. The one that he had a habit of showing you when he managed to outsmart you tracked you down in the forests of District 12.
"Thank you, my darling. You wouldn't deny a man his birthday wishes, would you?" A shiver runs through you as his irises focus on you. His tone is quieter and darker as he asks you a seemingly innocent question. But you know very well that nothing about Coriolanus Snow is innocent.
"Of course not, Mr. President." You reply courteously, already afraid of what he might want from you.
"Great. May I then?" He asks, sticking out his hand as he asks you to dance with a polite smile (if the devil can wear one).
"With great pleasure." You say, placing your hand in his. Without knowing why, you feel like you're putting it in the mouth of a lion... or in this case, a snake.
He holds your hand tightly as he helps you down the stairs. He doesn't let go of you for a second, and once you reach the dance floor, he wraps his arm around your waist and presses you against him, making you feel all his muscles hidden under his clothes. His eyes also never leave yours, which makes you very uncomfortable. Your anxiety only gets greater as you can't see the faces of the other members of your rebellion in the room.
"Nervous? Don't worry. You dance great." The smirk never leaves his face. And that's the kind of sly smirk. Of course, you dance great. After all, he taught you that himself in District 12.
"Thank you, Mr. President." At one point, the dance requires him to turn you around and press your back against his chest. You shiver as you feel his breath on your neck, then on your ear as he leans down, so he is very close to you.
"Do you think I'm stupid enough not to recognise you, Y/N? That I don't dream about you every night? That I didn't notice you when you and your ridiculous group of district dogs burst into my presidential palace?" You struggle, trying to break free from his grip, but he only grips your hip tighter, enough to surely leave bruises in the form of his fingers.
Coriolanus presses his lips against your temple and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You shiver in his arms at the familiar feeling of his closeness. You feel the gun hidden under his vest press against the back of your back. A tender reminder of how you both were still enemies and a deadly threat to each other.
His hands roam over your body, exploring you as much as he can manage in a crowd of people. But you doubt anyone would dare point out how he presses his crotch against your ass, forcing you to feel every last bit of him as he continues whispering darkly into your ear. "I've been hunting you for so many years... only for you to come running straight to me, as always. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. Let's play a game. Our favourite, darling. Try to escape, my little hunter." He hums as he finally lets go of you.
You're not wasting your time.
You don't turn to see him smirking mockingly, to see the way his cheeks have turned slightly pink from the adrenaline and excitement coursing through his veins, or to see the way the bulge in his pants has become slightly more visible.
You run away from him without looking back, pushing through the crowd of people who are leaving in panic after the announcement that they must leave the villa immediately as a result of the detection of an attempted assassination of the head of state.
But not everything is lost yet.
You saw a few familiar faces in the crowd of people, including Meg and Joseph. And you know that if you want to save your plan and the members of the rebellion, then you have to get Coriolanus' full attention. Make him drop his guard and focus entirely on you.
That's why instead of trying to escpae you stop at the foot of the stairs leading to the first floor.
You watch the crowd of people storming towards the exit. Peacekeepers are pushing through them, some trying to catch the more suspicious ones and interrogate them; everyone is focused on the exit door. So you had to go upstairs. You see Coriolanus slowly walking out of the ballroom. He looks around for you, and when his eyes catch yours, he stops, examining you. You kick off your high heels and run upstairs.
You run forward, hearing the clatter of his shoes close behind you.
You avoid all the traps you have set and hide in one of the rooms. Your feet feel icy from the cool marble you're walking on, but you don't pay much attention to it. Your heart is racing, and you try to breathe as quietly as possible as you hide behind the curtain, listening.
The first thing he does is open all the doors. Of course, carefully and not by himself. He was fully aware that you might have some unpleasant surprises in store for him. He was made very aware of it by one of the peacekeepers who went with him and unlocked the mechanism that caused his beautiful crystal chandelier to fall on the soldier's head.
The maids will have to clean the blood from the white marble again. The next time he renovates the villa, he will have to think about a more... useful floor colour.
"Guard the remaining floors and all exits. Two of you stand by the stairs. I'll take care of this one myself. You go and catch the rest of these street rats." He orders them in a dry tone.
He knows full well that he can fight you alone, and he will do it much better than this bunch of idiots. You weren't just a pure force. You were the mastermind. And only Coriolanus was smart enough to follow your way of thinking and catch you. Just like he always did.
You hold your breath as you hear the footsteps of the peacekeepers spreading across the floor. Only Coriolanus remains. You hear his breathing and his slow, methodical steps. You can imagine him analyzing the hall, looking for traps and potential threats you could prepare for him.
"You know you can't escape, right?" he begins, his footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty, silent corridor. "You've been slipping out of my hands for too long, little hunter. Do you think I don't remember our lessons? That I don't know your systems and customs? I don't know that you packed the entire presidential palace with your little surprises. What a pity that you will never catch me in any of them..."
You hear him enter the room next to you. He drops something to the floor and steps away, closing the door with a bang as the mechanism activates, spreading corrosive gas across the room that was intended to hurt him.
"Really? Such a school trick? I thought you knew better than to test such... childish methods on me, darling. I remember you telling me about something like this after a particular night at your apartment. Can you believe that I remember much better those lessons during which you were moaning and screaming my name?" He chuckles, sinisterly, darkly at the memory.
And then you hear a step. And another one. And another one. Slow, unhurried, and careful. It was so quiet that you wouldn't have heard them if the villa wasn't as quiet as it is now.
He was approaching you slowly and saliently, just as you taught him all those years ago. As usual, he turned out to be a very talented student.
"I never thought you'd be a rebel. After all, you were always so submissive to me... especially under me. And wanting me dead... you know I've killed and turned into Avox for lesser crimes against me and the Panem? But don't worry... your mouth and tongue are too useful for me to take the pleasure they can give away from me ever again."
He starts whistling, checking another room. As you hear him pulling the covers off the bed, you slowly emerge from your hiding place. You take a small step closer to the bathroom and freeze as the floor creaks beneath you.
"Spikes embedded in the mattress? Were you hoping to seduce me and put me on this deathbed? We can always try this... on a less lethal mattress, of course. What would you say, little hunter? Pardon. My sweet rebel?" You close the door quietly behind you and look around the dark room. Window. Maybe if you could open it...
"All these years, and you still use the same perfume." He grunts and closes the door behind him. You shudder, realising that he knows you're in this room. You tighten your hand on the knife hidden in the sleeve of your dress and wait in the cold bathroom for his next steps. "Don't you have a little Deja vu? It reminds me of when you and Lucy Gray ran away from me. That bitch is still hiding. I suspect you don't know where, but you are in contact through some letters or something. As soon as I find her, I will kill her on the spot. I know very well that she was the reason you left me. Don't get me wrong, I'm also angry at you for that... but not as mad as I am at her."
After Sejanus was hanged, he and you planned to escape together. And God, you loved it. You would have sacrificed your whole life for him if it weren't for Lucy Gray, who told you the truth about your beloved devil. So when he came out of the cottage near the lake, worrying about how you had been gone for too long and looking for you with a gun in his hand, you ran away.
"Y/N! Y/N, where are you?! Y/N! Y/N! I will find you! There is no fucking place you can hide from me! Can you hear me, hunter?! NO FUCKING PLACE! YOU ARE MINE! YOU WILL BE ALWAYS MINE! I will mark you like cattle and tie you to my side forever!"
You dream of his screams at some night.
"You promised you wouldn't leave me! You lying bitch!"
You hear his footsteps in the other room as he opens the curtains and checks to see if you're outside the window.
"You think I won't find you?! That you can crawl into a hole that I can't get you out of?! YOU'RE MINE, Y/N! Alive or dead, I don't care! YOU BELONG TO ME!"
You hear him take steps towards the closet, opening it and throwing things out, making sure it's empty. You hear him knocking over several items—the bed, the armchairs. You hold your breath as there is complete silence. He's probably looking at the bathroom door.
You feel your heart beating in your chest just as fast as it did that day when you hid from him as he walked around with a gun, screaming and calling for you. And you almost left. You almost left, wanting to fall into his arms as he kneeled in the middle of the forest and cried, smelling his mother's scarf that he gave you and which was saturated with your scent. But before you could, he screamed and started shooting at the mockingjays in the trees. So you ran away.
And you've been running away since then, hoping that you were a terrible teacher to him and that he would never find you...
"If you leave willingly, I will spare you the unpleasant part, my little rebel. Maybe you can even convince me to forget your transgressions completely… well within reason. However, I suspect that my bed is more comfortable than the floor of a prison cell. Don't you think?"
Maybe if he had used a less mocking tone, if you hadn't heard the pleasure dripping from his voice at his superiority over you and the excitement at catching you, then maybe you would have left willingly. You shake your hand, holding the knife tighter in your hand. No. You wouldn't leave and let him catch you without a fight. He has done too much to you and to other district people to pretend he's not a monster.
"I count to three." You hold your breath, stopping yourself from shaking. The cool air gives you goosebumps as you wait for him to take a step closer to the bathroom's door. "One."
You hear the rustle of fabric; he must have taken off his jacket and probably his mask too. You reach up to your face and untie your own mask, taking it off with a trembling hands.
"Two." Before he enters the room, you hide, so you're standing behind the door, which Coriolanus opens before he counts to three.
Another trick you taught him. Act unpredictably. Don't warn the prey about your next step, and don't let it catch you by surprise.
That's why Coriolanus stands still when he sees the bathroom window open. Your mask lies on the windowsill, taunting him as the moonlight reflects off the silver thread from which it was sewn and glows, tempting him to follow the trail.
That's why, as soon as he comes to the window, you quickly step out from behind the door and close it behind you with a bang.
A moment later, you hear his curses and quick footsteps. You run forward and enter the next room, being careful not to activate any mechanisms. Just as you close the door behind you, you feel him grab the handle on the other side.
In a panic, you do the same and pull the door towards you, wrestling with him. You know it won't get you very far. Coriolanus was stronger than you. He would get inside quickly. You had to think of another way to escape and create distance between you.
"That's enough, Y/N! We had fun, but that's it. You have no way to escape. You know it damn well! Be a good girl and get out." He growls at you, trying to push the door open and get inside.
"So you can kill me?! Hang me like Sejanus?!" You ask angrily, wrestling with him at the door. You feel yourself getting weaker, so you make an instinctive decision. You let go of the door and ran to the window, opening it. You turn around as the door slams shut. You two are standing in the same room again.
You look at each other carefully. You both breathe quickly, analysing each other's possible movements.
"You know I would never hurt you." He starts by taking a small step towards you. You step back to the open window, and he freezes. You may have been on the first floor, but the presidential palace was huge. If you jump out, you will smash into the asphalt and die. And he won't win. Coriolanus cannot afford this. That's why he's standing still for now.
"You killed people. How was I supposed to know I wouldn't be next?" You accuse him, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Your mind analyses all the possibilities. You're tempted to jump. Free yourself from him once and for all. Make him lose. Although this time.
"You could have trusted me. Just a little longer."
"Sorry, I have a survival instinct. Very strong survival instinct." You say this, avoiding his gaze. He takes advantage of your distraction and takes a step towards you, which you don't notice because you are too busy thinking of an escape plan.
"Not that big since you came here. For what? To kill me? Will you stab me in the heart, Y/N? Will you shoot me? Will you poison me?"
"You left me no other choice." You growl at him, furious, tightening your grip on the dagger.
"You don't want to do this. I know you. If you really wanted me to fall into a trap, you'd make it so that I couldn't move my damn foot an inch without activating something. So I'll ask again. Why did you come here?"
You do not know. Really. You can't answer his question.
Because... Yes, you hated him. And yes, you despised him. And yes, you were afraid of the monster he had become. But nothing could change the fact that, deep down, you loved him. You cried hundreds of tears because of him, which ricocheted off the walls of the wall you so eagerly built around yourself and your stupid hearth so no one else would be able to hurt you again. You didn't let anyone else get to know you. Not like Coriolanus did. He was the only one who saw the real you. The part of you that you were so afraid to show anyone else or to even look at them by yourself.
"Y/N. Look at me." It's not a request. This is a command. Subtle, but still. And you know, that's all he'll give you. Commands, expectations.
Never look your prey in the eyes. The first rule you taught him. The only one he always broke.
Maybe because of sadism? Maybe he enjoyed watching realisation shine in his victims' eyes as they realised he was winning. But you can't resist following his command and looking into those icy irises you once knew so well.
Or maybe he really cared about you more than anyone else. You'd like to believe that.
"I can give you everything. The whole world. All you have to do is trust me." He says, taking a few steps closer to you. You bite your lip. You can try to run away, but you know he will catch you. You weren't on your own turf. And he had a hundred tracking dogs, ready to find you. Crook.
"Trust you? After everything you've done?" You mock him. But he doesn't answer. There is perfect silence in the room.
Before you know it, he runs towards you. He activates the mechanism, causing a crossbow arrow to pierce his arm. He ignores it in favour of reaching out to you. He quickly injects something into your neck, holding you tightly against his chest. You stabbed him in the stomach. His blood spurts onto your dress as he makes sure you can't move, ignoring his wounds for a moment. Of course, he retaliates by tightening his grip on you, leaving his fingerprints on your skin.
"So you chose the hard path. Too bad, my little hunter. For you. I'll be damned glad to have the opportunity to train you. I will make you the perfect first lady, my darling." He whispers in your ear, and as you fall unconscious in his arms, you realise one terrifying thing. He caught you. He won this round.
You have to put plan B into action all alone.
You foresaw that your plan might fail and that someone would betray you. That's why you and Meg came up with... a contingency plan. After all, you had to keep your promise.
You're not leaving this presidential palace until you see the life drain from Coriolanus Snow. It will be your prison until then. A golden cage. No matter how long it will take... Or at least try to convince yourself that you have to do it. Because you know you must do it for the good of Panem. That you can't back down from anything at the next opportunity. You can't hesitate. No matter how much you will be drunk on the blame and pain of killing him.
It was a game of survival. A game only you and Coriolanus knew how to play. You had to win. For the good of people. To stop the suffering he caused.
After all, the caged wolf was still a threat. Even for poisonous snakes.
PART 2 (last)
#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x y/n#young coriolanus snow#oneshot#coriolanus snow#tbosbas#coriolanus snow x you#corionalus snow#toxic relationship#dark coriolanus snow#smut#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#coriolanus x you#coriolanus smut#snow lands on top#coriolanus x y/n
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LAST CHRISTMAS. tom riddle
( master list )
IN WHICH… Tom can’t fall in love, he shouldn’t be able to fall in love. So why does he love Y/N L/N with her yellow robes, doe eyes, and her obsession with snow so much that he’d kill anyone in his path to get to her?
Minor warnings : Not proof-read, kind of long, dark Tom Riddle, somewhat yandere
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“It may be hard to believe, but there was a time where Voldemort loved someone. He was young… barely eighteen. He loved her so much… that he would kill for her. So he did. He killed every boy interested in her and every girl who tormented her. And then he turned on her. Nobody knows what happened to sweet Y/N L/N. Maybe he killed her, maybe she got away… or maybe she stayed with him and let him taint her heart.
He was a boy who knew nothing of real love while she was a girl who wanted nothing but that.”
Tom couldn’t fall in love. He physically shouldn’t be able to fall in love. He wouldn’t let himself to fall in love. He would not allow himself that wretched moment of weakness his peers all seemed to suffer from.
Every day it was always, “Riddle, will you go out with me?” His answer was always no yet these lovesick girls never learned. They all flocked to him like annoying seagulls to a single, lonely chip.
“Excuse me,” A hand suddenly tapped Tom’s shoulder. He turned around, almost glowering at the girl in front of him. Before he could reject her, she spoke up. “You, uh, left this, Riddle.”
Of course, she knew his name but he didn’t know her’s.
She held out Tom’s precious diary and he was quick to snatch it out of her grip. He observed it, narrowing his eyes slightly before he subtly nodded. “Thank… you…” The words felt strange rolling off his tongue. He had never thanked anybody. He hesitated because he didn’t know her name.
“Y/N L/N.” She uttered, smiling.
“What?”
“My name is Y/N L/N. You seemed confused… so I thought you didn’t know me.”
Tom’s eyes flickered to the prefect badge pinned proudly to her robe. He arched an eyebrow. “You… you’re a prefect?” He questioned. He had never seen her at the meetings, which was strange because he noticed everyone.
“Yeah. Head girl.” Y/N beamed again, hardly offended by the fact that Tom didn’t know her despite them being counterparts.
Tom found it strange how he didn’t know her. He was supposed to considering she was the head girl. Tom observed her, staring at Y/N’s Hufflepuff uniform and the yellow ribbons intertwined with her braided hair.
“Right.” Tom muttered, clearing his throat.
“It was a pleasure talking to you, Riddle. I’ll see you around.” Y/N was the first to walk away. Tom wasn’t used to that because normally, he did that. He stared at Y/N’s back, eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Everybody was frightened by Tom’s cold demeanour, but not Y/N. She had approached him so casually without a second thought.
Tom shook his head, sighing under his breath. “Hufflepuffs.”
The next time Tom stumbled upon Y/N was when she had been cornered by three Slytherin girls. He recognized the ringleader as the girl he had rejected last week.
“Stay away from Tom.” The silver-haired girl grumbled, invading Y/N’s personal space. Y/N didn’t seem at all phased. She just smiled as she stared into the girl’s bright blue eyes.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Y/N questioned, innocently tilting her head to the side.
“Just stay away from Tom, got it?” The Slytherin girl repeated, her glare hardening.
Tom cleared his throat from behind the trio, making his presence known. “Is there a problem here?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.
The trio of Slytherin girls instantly recognized his voice. “Riddle!” The ringleader exclaimed, jumping. She nervously smiled. “We were just helping L/N here. She needed help with… uh…” She trailed off, her eyes wildly darting around.
“Her makeup!” One of her friends piped up, “She likes a boy and wanted our help!”
The third girl quickly nodded and grabbed Y/N by the shoulders, pushing her forward. “Isn’t she pretty? Imagine how pretty she would be with makeup!”
Tom’s stare hardened. He glanced down at Y/N, his lips pressed into a thin line. “She’s pretty enough as is.” He spoke, reaching out to grasp a strand of Y/N’s hair. “Well, I’ll be needing her. Prefect business, you understand?” Tom ripped Y/N from the girl’s grasp and led her down the long, winding hallway.
“Do you always have to deal with those pests?” Tom questioned, looking at Y/N once more.
“They aren’t that bad. They were worse in first year.” She smiled but that didn’t comfort Tom.
“You shouldn’t let them push you around. I’ll talk to them and make sure they never bother you again.” Tom furrowed his eyebrows.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Y/N uttered, but Tom didn’t hear her. He was already walking off, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Y/N frowned. “I hope he doesn’t kill them… he looks like the type.”
Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “No. He wouldn’t murder anybody. He’s the head boy.” She walked off in the opposite direction, quietly humming under her breath, unknown to the horrors Tom was committing with his damn pet snake.
Y/N strutted into the Great Hall, ready to eat dinner and gossip about useless things with her friends. But when she approached her companions, she was overwhelmed with their questions.
“Y/N, did you hear about the attacks?”
“I heard those three Slytherin bullies were targeted.”
“Well, they kind of deserved it. It’s not like they’re fully dead. They’re just stone.”
Y/N sat down, confused. “What happened?” And asked, tilting her head to the side.
Bella was the first to explain. “You know those three Slytherin girls who are always picking on you? They were all found turned to stone.” She looked around to make sure nobody was listening before she leaned forward and whispered, “The professors say it wasn’t a hex so they don’t really know what to do.”
“Oh… that’s…” Y/N couldn’t muster up any words. She glanced over at Tom, who was drinking out of his golden goblet. He locked eyes with her and his lips twisted into a cruel smirk.
“Did they find the perpetrator?” Y/N questioned, looking at Bella.
“No. I heard a few students talking about some sort of chamber but I wasn’t close enough to hear anything else.”
For the rest of dinner, Y/N was distracted by the way Tom kept glancing over at her. She felt a sick feeling in her stomach and she tried to convince herself that Tom played no part in this whole mess.
“I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Y/N stiffly smiled as she drank the last of her water from her cup.
Y/N quickly stood up, speed-walking out of hall. She heard someone following her and she spun around, hoping it wasn’t Tom. Luckily, it wasn’t.
It was a Gryffindor boy with messy black hair and stunning blue eyes. He grinned at her. “Y/N L/N, right?”
She slowly nodded.
“Listen, I’ve been interested in you for a while and I don’t want you to feel inclined to accepting my offer, but I would love if you would come to Hogsmeade with me.”
Y/N awkwardly smiled. “Ah, sorry, I’m a little busy. Maybe next time?” She suggested, trying to brush past the boy. But he grasped her wrist
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“You heard her the first time. She’s busy.” Tom had walked to stand behind the boy, towering over him with a mean glare.
“Right.” The Gryffindor thickly swallowed, “I’ll be on my way, then.” He scurried off, almost tripping over his robes.
“You didn’t have to scare him off.” Y/N murmured as she spared Tom a look before resuming her walk to the Hufflepuff common room. Tom followed after her, which unsettled Y/N.
She should have been placed in Gryffindor with how brave she was to eventually confront Tom. “What did you do with those Slytherin girls?” She softly inquired.
She heard Tom chuckle. “I didn’t do anything. Trust me.”
“It’s a bit hard to trust you when you smirked at me like that.” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.
“I never touched those girls. I merely gave them a warning before leaving them. And next thing I know, they were turned to stone. Some Ravenclaw first year found them.”
Y/N stared into Tom’s eyes, looking for any indication that he was lying. It was a bit hard to read him considering he barely had any emotions. But there was a gleam in his usually blank eyes.
“Okay.” She whispered, despite not fully believing him.
Tom had ended up walking Y/N to her common room and she politely nodded. “Good night, Riddle.”
“Call me Tom. Good night, Y/N.”
Rowan, the poor Gryffindor boy who had asked Y/N out, was the next target. Though, he wasn’t found turned to stone. His body was entirely mutilated and Y/N took pity on the third year girl who had discovered his body in the bathroom.
Y/N sat with Bella, pushing her food around on her silver plate. On instinct, she glanced at Tom. He had that same infuriating smirk and this time, he slightly raised his goblet. His actions made his friends laugh.
“I’m leaving for class early. See you at lunch, Bella.”
Her friend hummed, too busy staring at a boy from across the room to notice Y/N’s uneasiness.
Y/N stiffened as she saw Tom stand up out of the corner of her eye. She tried to speed walk away but he easily caught up to her.
“What did you do do him?” She asked, referring to Rowan. He had no enemies and Tom was the only person Y/N could think of. After all, the head boy hadn’t seemed too pleased to see Y/N talking with Rowan.
“Accusing me again? There’s an actual murderer on the loose and instead, you’re pointing fingers at me?” Tom let out a small scoff while Y/N silently stared up at him. “I’m head boy. Do you really think I would decapitate a body?”
“Nobody said anything about the body being decapitated.”
“I saw it. As head boy, I was at the scene.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes while Tom mentally cursed at his mistake. Hufflepuffs were usually easy to gaslight, but not Y/N. And that annoyed Tom.
“They’re still observing the body but I wouldn’t be walking alone if I were you. This attacker seems to be targeting people who are,” Tom took a step closer to Y/N, “All alone.”
Tom cunningly grinned as he shrugged. “Enjoy your walk, Y/N.”
Y/N didn’t want to take any chances with Tom since he was her prime suspect. But if he was the murderer, why wasn’t she his next victim? She was alone and the castle was deserted. Now would be the perfect time.
Tom chuckled as the cogs in Y/N’s head started moving. He was going to strut away from the Hufflepuff but Y/N was quick to grab his sleeve.
“Walk me to class.” She demanded. For the first time in a long time, Tom felt his cheeks heat up. And strange enough, he felt a jolt of lightning pass through his body when Y/N’s grasped him.
He concealed those odd emotions. “With pleasure.”
Potions was their first class. Usually, Gryffindors and Slytherins were put together but this year the school decided to mix it up. Classes were now decided on a student’s academic record. And lucky for Tom, all of his courses were with Y/N. Never had he been so glad that one of his peers had almost beaten him for the spot of top student.
Y/N tried to sit away from Tom but he dragged her to a table near his friends. She nervously sat down, tapping her foot against the floor.
She could feel someone burning holes into her back with their glare and Y/N looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with a Ravenclaw girl. She sneered at Y/N.
The H/C-haired teenager slowly turned her head to look at her textbook, but her peace was short lived when a cauldron came crashing down on her head.
It hit her with such force that her head jolted forward and slammed against the wooden table. A sickening crack was heard and the class went silent.
Tom and his friends were the first to react. Avery lifted Y/N and helped her sit up. Her nose was heavily bleeding and the crimson liquid dribbled down her chin, staining the pages of her new and crisp book.
Malfoy held his hands underneath her chin to catch most of the blood while Avery dapped at Y/N’s nose with the sleeve of his robe.
Rosier grabbed the cauldron, slamming it back down in front of the Ravenclaw. At that very moment, Professor Slughorn entered.
He observed the bizarre scene, effortlessly piecing everything together. “Tom, my boy, please escort Miss L/N to the hospital wing. You may bring Mr Avery and Mr Malfoy with you. Rosier, Mulciber, Nott, Lestrange, I want a full explanation of what happened.” Slughorn turned to the Ravenclaw, “Miss Li, I will also require your explanation.”
Hyehi Li, the girl who had thrown the cauldron at Y/N’s head, was gone. She was found by the Ravenclaw Quidditch up on the roof, impaled onto a sharp spear. The students of Hogwarts were growing restless. Parents wanted to collect their kids but the murderer could be anybody, staff or student. Therefore, it was imperative that the professors worked fast to track the attacker down.
Y/N sat in her dorm, thinking to herself. All of the people attacked were connected to her. The three Slytherin girls had bullied her, Rowan had somewhat flirted with her, and Hyehi had injured Y/N. And Tom was there to witness all three incidents.
There wasn’t anybody else who could be doing these things. Y/N was also aware of Tom’s fascination with the dark arts.
It was Christmas Eve and since the school couldn’t technically hold the students in the castle over the holiday, they had no choice but to let them go.
Y/N’s parents were on a trip right now, so she had to stay behind. Not many students wanted to stay at Hogwarts, but Y/N knew Tom and his posse would be roaming the halls.
She was nervous to walk out of the common room, but she was hungry, even at this time when it was close to midnight, and the kitchen was so close.
“L/N!” A voice Y/N didn’t recognize suddenly called out. She turned around, watching a Slytherin boy jog towards her. She recognized him as a year below her.
“Ah… you shouldn’t be talking to me, it’s not safe.” Y/N had come to the conclusion that any boy or girl who teased or flirted with her was in serious trouble if Tom ever found in.
“Why? I just wanted to say happy Christmas Eve. And thanks for helping me with my homework this year. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Y/N stiffly smiled and nodded her head. “You’re welcome. Good bye.” Y/N wanted to leave but the boy blocked her path.
“Do you have anybody to celebrate Christmas with? You’re always welcome in the Slytherin common room. Riddle seems to have taken a liking to you.”
Speak of the devil, Y/N could hear Avery’s loud laughs from just around the corner. And where Avery was, Tom and his friends were sure to follow.
Y/N’s eyes slightly widened. “Please leave me alone… for your sake.” She whispered, trying to brush past him. But the boy didn’t seem to sense the urgency in Y/N’s voice as he grabbed her shoulder just as Tom came into sight.
A feeling of dread overcame Y/N as Tom approached the pair. “Onyx.” He greeted the boy by the last name. “What business do you have with Y/N?”
Onyx, as oblivious as ever, smiled. “I was just thanking her for helping me. And I was going to invite her to spend Christmas in the Slytherin chamber.”
Tom narrowed his eyes as he slowly nodded. “… I see. We’ll have to finish decorating the tree then. Come on.” Tom guided Onyx with a firm hand on his back. Y/N’s breath trembled and finally having had enough of being connected to all the murders, she silently followed Tom and his friends and Onyx.
There was a loud bang and as Y/N peeked around the corner, she almost gasped. Avery, the supposed sweet boy who had helped her with her bloody nose, had just knocked Onyx out cold.
“Let’s get this over with quickly. I have some matters to attend to.” Tom pulled out his wand, pointing the tip at Onyx. “Avada Kedavra.” There was a blinding flash of green light and then all was still.
Y/N stumbled back. She quickly sprinted off, making sure to be quiet and not leave anything behind. She burst into the Hufflepuff common room and began to wildly knock on every door.
“Why is no one here?!” She exclaimed, pounding her fist against the wall. “The headmaster and Slughorn are gone too! And Dumbledore- Wait, I can tell Dumbledore!”
She rushed to the exit but crashed into a tall figure. She fell back, hitting her head.
“You didn’t think you would actually get away, did you?” It was just Tom this time. His friends were nowhere to be seen.
Y/N scrambled back but Tom easily outstretched a hand, grabbing her collar and pulling her up. “I got you a gift.” He said, handing Y/N a narrowly wrapped present as soon as the clock struck midnight.
“If it’s part of a body, I don’t want it.”
Tom merely smiled. “Open it and find out.”
Y/N opened the lid a tiny bit, jumping when she saw a pure white snake inside. It hissed and bared it’s sharp fangs at her.
“Sweet dreams, amour.” Tom uttered, stepping forward and knocking the present out of Y/N’s grasp. The box fell and the snake swiftly slithered over to Y/N’s ankle. “I love you.”
He harshly pressed his lips to Y/N’s just as the snake opened its mouth and sank its fangs into her flesh.
“Is this really the best way to do it?” Avery questioned as him and Lestrange pulled a wooden plank from their dorm floor. “We could just hide her dead body in a closet. Though, eventually, her corpse is going to rot and stink.”
Tom, from his position on his bed, tilted his head to the side. “Who said anything about her being dead?”
Nott arched an eyebrow and laughed. “She’s not actually alive, is she? Because stuffing her in there would be cruel.”
“Since when did you care about being cruel?” Tom retorted, “To be honest, I’m not actually sure whether she’s dead or not. I checked her pulse and there was none but her heart is still beating. It’s… strange. And fascinating.”
Tom’s lips curled into a smirk.
Y/N was shoved beneath the floor boards right next to Tom’s bed. He lay down, closing his eyes and listening to the dull thumping beat of Y/N’s heart.
All that happened last year. Y/N’s body was never found and Hogwarts lost a bright student. Tom’s friends could never hear Y/N’s heartbeat but Tom could.
He heard it at night when he was cramming in some late night study.
He heard it when he was kissing another girl in his bed and it reminded him of who his heart belonged to.
He heard it as he descended into a dark madness that not even Dumbledore could stop.
And he heard it as he yelled the very same spell he had yelled at Onyx on that fateful night at Harry Potter. Up in the castle, Y/N’s body still lay shoved deep under.
As Tom Riddle, now known as Voldemort, faded into nothing, he could hear Y/N’s heartbeat get louder and louder and he was reminded of what he had done to the sweet Hufflepuff.
That was her last Christmas and she had spent it under the floor, dead but not fully, never to be found or seen or heard from again.
“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart… but the very next day you stuffed it underneath the floorboards with the rest of my corpse until the sound of my heartbeat intensified your descent into madness.”
#tom riddle#harry potter x reader#hogwarts houses#slytherin#hufflepuff#gryffindor#ravenclaw#tom riddle x reader#voldemort#lord voldemort#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#xreader#malfoy manor#draco malfoy#ron weasley#harry potter fanfiction
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did you ever did a part 2 to jjk dudes meeting their child who’s from the future?
⋆。Part || of JJK MEN meeting their future kids。⋆
Author's notes: I don't think I've posted it! Considering it kind of left my mind and the old draft is gone, but I did write everything I remember here. Also, it's like 3am and I wrote this crying, not proofread.
CW: Swearing, killing, cannibalism(?) like mention of eating people, children.
Pronouns used for the kids: She/her for Geto and It/its for Sukuna.
Part | (Warning, it's from 2021)
Geto
Starting off strong with Geto.
Definitely another girl. He's such a girl dad.
On a regularly scheduled day like always; it was wake up, talk with his connections, mingle with his family, check on Mimi and Nana, see whatever the hell the non-sorcerers wanted, get greeted by a little girl that wasn't supposed to be on the estate...
What the fuck.
How did she even get here? Why is she here?
Geto would stare at this child in confusion and look around, waiting for someone to claim her.
He has a soft spot for children. Sorcerers, of course. Non-sorcerers, debatable.
So, low and behold this little girl running up to him to clutch at his robes. Him trying to pry her off of him with her relieved cries of "Papa! Papa!" escaping her lips.
Papa?
Holds her by the shirt's scruff like a cat and squints, ready to scold her but pauses when he sees her face.
Because, holy shit, that's literally his twin. And suddenly every rare hookup played in his mind.
But no, she looked no older than 3. He hadn't been with anyone at that time, or ever yet. Not that far.
Drops everything for the next couple of days just to make sense of the situation, only telling his beloved family.
Mimi and Nana fawn over the idea of a little sister but are a bit restrictive if it's not a permanent thing.
The girl didn't speak much except for addressing Geto, the twins, oh and you.
You...?
You.
You.
You, who had just returned from your trip overseas to oversee some tasks involving curses.
You, who the little girl immediately ran to and called "Mama! Mama!"
You, who Geto stared wide-eyed at and surprised as you two tried to settle the fact nothing even happened between you.
Yet.
When that little girl eventually left to her own time, with everything still fresh and confusing, Geto eventually approached you.
Because, well, he wanted to see that little girl again.
After few dates, then a relationship, then marriage. Maybe.
Sukuna
Listen, he is NOT spreading those cursed genes of his pre-human/post-cursed-spirit.
Man hates love.
But, during the Heian period. When some stupid kid wandered into his life as if it always belonged there, maybe, maybe, there was something else in that space in his chest but hunger and his definition of love.
So, there it was. Whatever it was. Standing there with large eyes focused on him with a semblance of admiration and malice.
"What are you looking at, brat?"
"You."
The audacity of this thing. He killed it immediately.
And then it came back. So, he killed it again. And again. And... what the fuck.
This little shit was persistent.
His kid. He doesn't know how. But definitely his kid.
A worthy successor? Fuck no, he's not dying or leaving it as some birthright to a hindrance.
Learning of its origins was pretty interesting, to say the least.
"Not a human? I figured. A curse made from me, huh? Someone weak must hate me so much."
That meant a human parent. Or multiple human parents. Gross.
He wasn't getting into that.
The kid was though.
It often visited this village to... eat? Kill? Fight? Whatever makes it happy.
...
The hell do you mean it was visiting its human mother?
It had a mother? It had a mother that cursed him so much it resulted in a personalized cursed child?
He could see it stare longingly at that woman's village and before he could even kill her, his offspring said goodbye.
"I'll see you in the future, yeah?"
And then Sukuna was sealed.
He probably searched for his offspring in the Modern era.
Author's notes 2: Stopping with these two because it's been a while since I've posted seriously on this account, 2 years? Maybe I've gotten better, maybe not. This was the idea but with updated better minds. Maybe I'll do the others separately again, Yuji, Yuta, Megumi, Toge. Just did the adults first. Doing Choso and Higuruma definitely.
#Jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#geto x reader#Geto suguru x reader#sukuna x reader#true form sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk imagines#jjk headcanons#jjk scenarios#not fluff but something weird def#Girl dad Geto agenda#Sukuna being a shitty dad#New formats i thijk#its been a while forgive me#ill try and answer old asks ive got like 3#Jjk spoilers? maybe i did something#also the Sukuna portion felt self-indulgent bc it is im sorry yall i got a little curse daughter for him haven't seen the idea of it here#so I thought heee shares here#jjk men#jjk boys soon#jjk x y/n
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Silhouette Timeline Master Post !
Silo is from my 1000 Years Bound Au- (Summary) (Horror AU) 500 years into the future, Miles finds himself at the mysterious kingdom of Solar Sanctum, ruled by the long absent King Shadow. Shadow invites Miles to stay as a collaboration of great minds to try and solve the murky state their world has fallen into. It isnt long before Miles starts to realize Shadow is no longer the man he remembers, and starts to get tangled up in his web of madness.
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Silo is one of Shadow's little oopsies ! She was meant to be a trial experiment, bioengineered during one of his many attempts to bring order back to the planet. Shadow completely tunnel visioned by his own vision for his work, failed to comprehend the burden that accompanied bringing a creature to life. He succeeded in creating a living breathing being. And it horrifies him. (cw for almost violence against a child)
Not too long after his meltdown, the Black Arm part of his brain overrides his disdain for this creature, and for a short while, he fulfills the role of being a parent to her. Creating a nest and taking care of the babys every need.
Once he returns to his normal mindset he starts to neglect this kid again, he refuses to acknowledge its his daughter, and even a person at all. All he sees her as is an experiment he wants nothing else to do with while he moves on to other research. Most of the responsibilities fall on Valentine and Tails. Tails is suspicious and frustrated with Shadow, unable to get any answers out of him about Silos origins. More often than not, Valentine is the one handling Silhouette, sneaking out of the castle and bringing her to the edge of the kingdom where an apple orchid resides. She spends time learning about taking care of children from the wolf Crisp, a widowed mother of three. Shadow usually never notices the childs absence, and doesnt really care when he does. And when he does care, its usually because hes doing something like this:
They also start figuring out Silos abilities, being able to turn into a black liquid and taking whatever shape she wants. Shes also near silent. No one is sure if she took on Shadows immortality yet...
Plot stuff happens whatever,,, Shadow takes a huge L
Shadows physically weak and incredibly frail, he cant move at all for weeks, eventually getting a custom walking chair. Major loss of chaos energy from his body from overloading, now any minor usage of chaos energy can fuck him UP.
In his eyes, hed fallen from godhood, now abandoned to be a pathetic regular person. And now word is getting out around the kingdom. He cant hide behind being all powerful, he needs to start at least pretending to act normal real fast. And that comes with acknowledging Oh hey . theres like . a princess by the way. his daughter who he is totally raising.
Valentine needs to be at Shadows side around the clock for a couple years, so Silhouette spends a lot of time at home in the castle, usually being very clingy to Shadow, she loves to nestle into his collars and his quills
This continues even when Shadow starts setting her to the side again to focus on rebuidling the kingdom. Now a toddler, shes getting sent off to go hang out with Crisps family pretty often, they become like a whole family to her. Despite that, Silhouette often sneaks out of the house to walk all the way back from the edge of the kingdom to go be with her father again. Shadow starts sending his Shadow Eye, Baja to accompany her so she stops doing that.
As she gets older she starts understanding the expectations Shadow is holding over her head. She is the offspring of the Ultimate Lifeform, and he expects something made of his own blood to be nothing short of perfect, an exact copy of his grace and excellence. At the same time, however, she is never supposed to surpass him. He plans to remain the Ultimate Lifeform until the end of time.
Perhaps she would have considered his cruel edge and bitter tongue normal affection had she not spent years with a family who's shown her what love looks like. She appreciates them so much, but she cant help but try to desperately claw out the same type of affection from Shadow. It deeply pains her and stirs resentment for her half siblings whenever her father comes over to the orchid, either to pick her up or at the request of Val, and she watches Shadow interact with the other children. He views them as lesser, but because of this, the lack of expectation for them, he comes off as a little kinder. Tolerating things he would never allow Silo to do in his presence, coldly reprimanding her in the hollowing silence of their black arms hive mind. He trained a lot of her emotional responses out of her, leaving her with a dead expression most of the time.
As a teenager, the noise in the back of her mind gets louder, deadset on destruction. Part of her wants to kill Shadow. Shes afraid of that side of herself. She starts acting out, trying to distract him from his work to get his attention, positive or negative attention she doesnt care anymore. It starts small but as he keeps turning a blind eye, expecting Val to handle it, she is the head guard after all. Gradually she increases the intensity, committing real crimes in the kingdom and testing how far she needs to push that old man, from stealing to committing arson. Shes willing to tear this whole kingdom apart if it means Shadow will come and stop her.
Eventually, Shadow does! Additionally, Shadows in a much better mental and physical state than he was years ago, where he was genuinely at his worst. After a lot of talks with Miles, Val, and Crisp and realizing the worst parts of himself are being manifested in this child before his eyes. He goes to finally give her what she wants.
Hes still not a great parent, but now he puts more effort in, working with Silo to get her behavior in check, being overall more available and open to her.
#sonic the hedgehog#sth#shadow the hedgehog#sonic au#1000 years bound#silhouette the needlemouse#sfs
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A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part Two
Welcome to my ballsy series where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.
And when I say ‘poor writer,’ I’m talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the overall plot of the books.
This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.
Part One Link.
Disclaimer for all readers of this series:
I’m going to sound very confident in my posts where I work under the assumption I’m a better writer than JKR; because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You’re simply witnessing the culmination of over two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn’t just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.
I’m not a perfect writer. No one is. I’m not a talented writer either. I’m experienced and skilled through years of study and practice.
I don’t care about J.K. Rowling. At all.
If you’re triggered by the concept and fact that JKR is a terrible crafter of writing, then you might want to take a step back and self reflect on that personal issue.
I still very much love and adore Harry Potter; you’re still allowed to love Harry Potter.
This is not a series to bitch or bash. This isn’t a shitpost. This isn’t an attack on JKR, no matter the disgusting bullshit she spews forth on Twitter. However, my hope is people awaken to the fact that JKR isn’t the goddess of writing we’ve all been led to believe.
This is a place of study and learning, where the purpose is to help students gain critical thinking skills and writing analysis tools to become better in their craft.
And, sorry, one more disclaimer for this specific post:
Fanfiction is written for fun and is posted for free. I put most of my effort into my main fanfic, Terrible, But Great. (Yes, I intend to update Moon Rite soon, too) However, I also have two fanfics that are cowritten with another author; thus, the style of Shall I Stay and Badger Prey are understandably different. I spend three to four times the hours to edit a chapter versus drafting it. My process for fanfiction: I draft. I do one expansion edit. I do one proofread edit. I post.
However, if I were to publish a novel where people are expected to drop money on said book, my work flow would be vastly more extensive. To be clear, I’d do all of the following myself. I would not outsource. My process for published novels: I would draft. I would do three to four expansion edits. I would do two to three cutting edits. I would do three proofread edits.
See the difference?
Because I don’t go through a cutting edit for my fanfiction, I’ll often come back later and see things I think are weak. I’m constantly seeing where I can tighten my work. There’s always room for improvement.
Remember: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is a paperback book that costs $10. My fanfics are free. If I, someone who writes for free and puts what she considers the bare minimum of effort into them, have a higher standard in the quality of my writing than a paid traditionally published novelist, there’s a problem here.
All right, with that nonsense out of the way, buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. Let’s begin.
Class is in session.
In this post, we’re going to discuss these five pages from HP5 and dissect one paragraph and a line from page 731. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.
(My favorite book in the series, btw. I fucking love fifth year the most. JKR did a damn good job with Umbridge.)
Since a certain anon lacked the skill to comprehend the difference between too much dialogue and stories driven by a high saturation of dialogue, let's go into further depth about dialogue.
What did I mean last week when I said: "Too much fucking dialogue!"
Today’s lesson will focus on the overall issue in JKR’s dialogue and in the prose surrounding those dialogue lines.
And since, apparently, I “lack the self awareness” to know most of my fics are “oversaturated with dialogue,” I’m going to use weaker examples of my own writing. Chapter 24 of TBG is heavily driven by dialogue with twenty-one named characters to juggle, something that's very difficult for me to manage. Though the chapter is lovely, I do feel it's some of my weaker work. In the end, I just didn’t have the energy to edit it a second time nor go through cutting edit.
Here are three different pages (some connected, some not) from Chapter 24 of Terrible, But Great. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.
You can already see the difference, I'm sure.
So, what’s the difference between a scene that has 'too much fucking dialogue' versus a scene that is highly saturated with dialogue?
Because there is one.
Let's set the scene for HP5. In the middle of an OWL exam, Harry received a vision from Voldemort, showing him that Sirius has been captured. He's being tortured to get something from a shelf, but Sirius refuses. Harry believes the vision is real. He tells Ron and Hermione, then asks for their advice on how to rescue Sirius. Ron and Hermione are both like, pardon, wtf, sir? (As they should be.)
We have five pages of this fight between them. These five pages are mostly dialogue with very little else surrounding it.
Also, note the final page where it has the worst sins of adverb usage. That page is what triggered me to begin writing this series in the first place, btw.
There's too much dialogue here. There's no description. I'm being told stuff, but I'm not being shown anything. There are no emotional anchors to Harry either. The more I reread this scene, the more I realized what was wrong.
There’s an emotional disconnect from Harry in the prose.
Do not misunderstand me: it is NOT to say that Harry isn’t emotional here. It's that the prose doesn’t grip me, the reader, by the chest and twist my heart with his overwhelming emotions. The prose doesn't prove anything, doesn't show me anything. This is an intense, terrifying moment for Harry. It should feel visceral. It should feel tangible. I should be able to taste his fear.
We also don’t get too much information about the emotional states of Ron and Hermione. We have hints, of course. But we can’t feel them. The emotions of the scene are dampened, muffled, dull even.
With an untrained eye, you might disagree. It's okay. You'll see what I mean soon.
Page 731 exact quote:
"I dunno how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they're at the end of row ninety-seven...He's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there....He's torturing him....Says he'll end by killing him..." Harry found his voice shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master himself.
(Btw, punctuation issue: you do not use an ellipsis and a period together and there should be a space after the ellipsis.)
This is the only instance in the five pages where we get any information about Harry's physical state.
And it's written in such a weak 'telling' instead of 'showing' way, too.
How and where was his voice shaking? How are his knees shaking? Are they knocking together in a weird way that's kind of physically improbable? Or was it actually his legs were shaking? Isn't he leaning against the door? If his weight was resting against the door, then there'd be less shaking in his knees or legs because his knees would be locked to brace his body against the door. His arms and hands would be shaking, though.
How does Harry master himself? What does that look like? Slow breaths? Running a hand through his hair? Rubbing his face and eyes? How is Harry mastering himself? Is it mentally? Then, where are those mastering thoughts? What are they and why do those thoughts in particular help Harry 'master' himself?
What's Harry's tone as he talking about Voldemort threatening to kill Sirius? How is Harry feeling about this? Give me MORE!
The dialogue is presented to the reader in a bland, empty fashion. Harry is relating something to Ron and Hermione. I could switch the dialogue out with anything and it'd still make sense.
There is little surrounding the dialogue to anchor it.
So, let's rewrite this, shall we?
"I dunno how," said Harry, letting out a shaky breath. His hands clenched into fists against the door of the classroom. "But I know where—they're in a room in the Department of Mysteries that's filled with rows of shelves holding these... weird little glass balls. They're in row ninety-seven. Voldemort, he's—" Harry's voice broke. His breath caught in his throat. The memory of the vision returned full force into his mind, the image of Sirius on the floor at Voldemort's feet stark in his mind. He ducked his chin; his chest inhaled in a desperate breath and the edges of his eyes burned. He's torturing Sirius—I can't just wait around. I can't lose him. Harry looked up at Ron, whose face had grown pale, while Hermione stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. The strength in Harry's legs weakened. "He needs Sirius to get whatever it is he wants and he's—" Harry sucked in a gasp, his voice trembling like an autumn leaf in a thunderstorm. "—he's torturing Sirius... says he'll kill him in the end." His knees buckled. Harry stumbled to the nearest desk; Ron reached out with a steadying hand on Harry's upper arm and silent gratitude filled Harry's heart. With shaky arms, Harry lifted himself onto the desk to sit and twisted around to face Ron and Hermione. He licked his dry lips, rubbed his eyes with a hand, and took slow, deep breaths to master his fraying emotions.
The original canon text has 57 words of dialogue with a total of 83 words.
My rewritten version uses 56 words of dialogue with a total of 247 words.
I'm going to drill this concept into your heads, my lovely students: this is what I mean when I keep saying JKR's writing is both bloated and underwritten.
I only rewrote a single paragraph and its following line. The five pages I've provided are filled with this kind of empty dialogue.
So, what have I done here? Can you see the difference? Can you feel the difference?
Let's analyze what I focused on in this scene to show Harry's body language and his thoughts. I upped the physical effects on Harry's body. His fear causes his voice to break in the middle of explaining what's going on. He's terrified of losing Sirius, the only father figure he's ever known. Voldemort might take another parental figure from him.
And now the prose reflects these feelings, not just in his thoughts, but also in how he speaks and reacts to what is around him. He is not just speaking at the reader.
Harry exists in his world.
And you can feel it.
When he stumbles to the desk, Ron is there for him. Hermione reacting could also be added here. There is a lot that can be added to this scene, if one wanted to expand this further.
Yes, what I've done has increased the word count, yet it strengthens this short moment—and I'd do this for the entire scene.
What I did to the scene is merely one version of its potential. It could be rewritten in a multitude of ways and go in various directions. I spent 10mins to 20mins on it. I haven't edited it or refined it.
Can you finally see what I mean now?
If you compare the highlighted pages of HP5 to the highlighted pages of Chp 24 of TBG, you can visually see the difference in the density of the dialogue. JKR is the one whose writing is oversaturated with dialogue. My writing will always be highly saturated with dialogue because my stories are character driven. I prefer stories like that. But I also need the dialogue to be interesting and engaging, where the character feels alive in their world.
When I say there's too much dialogue, this scene is such a good example of this because Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all over the place in their interactions with each other. Yes, you want your characters to sound realistic, but you're also the author curating an experience for the reader.
There's a balancing tightrope act between having realistic dialogue and unnecessary dialogue.
There's a thin line between showing too much and telling too little.
Lastly, if I were to improve the overall scene, I would center the focus on Harry's desperation to rescue Sirius. As Ron and Hermione try to talk him out of it, where Hermione delivers that iconic line of 'you have a people saving thing,' I'd have Harry explode with something like this:
"You don't know what's it like! You both have your parents—I-I don't... You'd feel the same as me if it were either of your parents being tortured by Voldemort, yeah? I can't lose him—I can't lose Sirius."
I'm not bothering with description around it right now. I just wanted to give the baseline dialogue to show you the theme I'd carry through this scene. It's all about Sirius. It's all about the fear of losing him. It's about showing the emotion of the character and making the reader feel that deeply.
And that's what matters the most.
All right then.
We have come to an end of Part Two in this series. We have discussed fives pages in JKR's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The pages in question are 731 - 735 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.
And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.
Until next time.
Isa
#harry potter#hp#fanfiction#fanfic#hp fanfic#hp fanfiction#harry potter discourse#harry potter books#jk rowling#fuck jkr#anti jkr#jk rowling is a terrible writer series by isalise#on writing#writing#writers#writer#author#authors#writing advice#writing stuff#becoming better at writing#writer stuff#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writers on ao3#writerscommunity#creative writing#JKR's Terrible Amateur Writing Series#writing help#writing resources
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I love the comments and defense of the original Snow White but some people are not taking the defensive position that I would take, all things considered.
I mean, asking the question “since when is it bad to wish for love?” is one thing, but then sometimes people follow it up with, “and that’s not all she wanted! That’s not her main goal!”
Okay I appreciate you but yes it was. Let’s just call it like it is. And then don’t back down. Hear me out.
The first thing you learn about Snow-White is from that pretty opening-fairy-tale-book page, where it points out two characters: the wicked and vain stepmother who is afraid of Snow White and dresses her in rags to cover up her beauty, and uses her as a scullery maid—and Snow White herself, who is…well, used as a scullery maid.
Treated as a servant, and actively hated by the only family she has. And she’s a child. She hasn’t been alive very long to experience anything other than hatred and jealousy toward herself.
She’s even talking to birds, and the fact that they’re clustered around her from beginning to end of that opening scene indicates that they’re very comfortable with her and she talks to them all the time—because they’re the only positive interaction she gets to have.
That’s the situation that Snow White is in. But the first thing you learn about who she is and what she wants comes when she wishes in the well. And what’s she wishing for?
Love. The one she loves. A specific, male figure, who will say nice things to her and find her. She wants him to come quick. Why?
How silly. How vapid and shallow of her. How weak and one-dimensional. Please, goodness, can’t someone update her to have some depth?
NO. She is a young woman who is not given any love and is treated like a horrible nuisance who must be covered up in dirt and rags. She has no friends except birds, who can’t talk back. She is actively hated by the closest person to her.
It’s a miracle she even knows the word “love” and has the strength of character to believe in it after the situation she’s grown up in.
The song very specifically says “I’m wishing…for the one I love…to find me…today. I’m hoping…and I’m dreaming of…the nice things…he’ll say.”
She wants to be loved because she isn’t loved. Geez, she wants someone to say nice things to her. She wants to give her own love because she doesn’t have anything but courtyard doves to befriend. Of course it’s her goal. Of course it’s her wish. What wish or goal could be higher? And what wish or goal could be more natural for a character in her situation?
And even more than that, what could be stronger than believing that it will happen? This character who’s been unloved and mistreated by everyone takes a Prince at his word when he says he’ll give her that love. He promises it, and she believes him.
She has every opportunity and right to be bitter, hardened, anti-social, self-absorbed (pre-Huntsman and Dwarfs, she could very easily believe that nobody else is going to watch out for her except herself) and jaded. But instead she has this pure faith, which it takes a lot to maintain when everything has been ripped away from you. She could’ve been totally swamped by doubt and bitterness.
I mean, she could worry that the Prince won’t be able to convince her Stepmother to let him marry her.
Then when she gets chased into the woods for her life, she could fret that the Prince wouldn’t know how to find her.
Heck, she could just forget about him, give up, and say, “this is my life now, I’m living with these seven dwarfs and we’ll take care of each other, I guess that’s the most I can hope for.”
But no. She has faith in his promise, and hangs on to her dream, and sings, with total assurance, “Someday My Prince Will Come.” I mean, she won’t even let a moment of panic in the woods go by without reprimanding herself for losing that faith, for a second.
Can any of you say the same? Can any of you imagine being that kind of person: the kind of person who unashamedly wants to love and be loved in return, and when everything is stripped away and every chance at that taken from you, you hang on and believe anyway? You stay positive and even joyful anyway? For love?
Come on. Defend that. Yes, her goal was “just” to be loved. And to love in return. The fear of having her life taken from her, the necessity (not the desire for) freedoms from that, was just an obstacle in the way of being loved. And this isn’t a movie about Snow White’s natural reaction to abuse. It’s about her strength of faith in love in SPITE of that abuse. The spotlight is on her strength, not her weakness, but it’s strength of faith in love.
Anyway.
If you believe that it’s good and fine for a girl’s whole goal and fondest dream is to be loved, then don’t stand with one foot in that camp and another in the camp that says “girls want more than just love.” No, what? Love is the best thing a girl can want. I’m not talking about “romance.” I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about pure, self-sacrificial, kind love. It’s the best thing they can want, and Snow White is one of the only characters who does want it unashamedly, uncomplicated.
Just defend that. Don’t try to argue that the “Someday My Prince Will Come” Princess isn’t wholeheartedly after love. Makes it look like you don’t believe that’s as wonderful as it is.
#Snow White#Snow White 1937#Snow White 2024#Snow White and the seven dwarfs#Snow White and the seven dwarfs 1937#Walt Disney#classics#love#discourse#meta#analysis#Disney analysis#Snow White defense#Rachel Zegler#gal gator#greta gerwig#Disney appreciation#snow wh appreciation#Snow White hate#true love#self-sacrificial love
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The aftermath of freakshow Caine ‘marrying’ Pomni out of possession of her- his ‘doll’. She uses it as a chance to try to escape, but after what feels like years… she’s loosing her strength.
The song: Poison (Hazbin Hotel)
The only time she even sees other players is either Ables ‘pet’ Bird- a twisted experiment from a newer player to ‘humiliate’ his brother, OR when she’s preparing for a show- most often dominating in the games after LOTS of practice from the RUTHLESS Caine.
Caines wife can’t be seen as weak- after all she represents him and the circus.
So she uses dancing to fight, using her speed, flexibility and quick thinking to win against the other players- but against Jax? It’s always a mixed bag of wins…
If you’re curious about stuff that likely WON’T be in the music video that I thought about, I’m sure I will be making a whole post that will connect to each little topic! But here’s a few off the top of my head:
Ragatha is the only one she goes easy on. If she can spare a win for her, she does.
Pomni still maintains some pleasures for herself- she’s learned to ‘code’ a bit. Of course only with permission from Caine- she enjoys making small little trinkets and morphs (usually giving them or leaving them for the other players around their tents)
Because of her basic understanding of coding she is considered maintenance for the players for tiny fixes like torn clothes, small injuries and in general upkeep. A flower Kinger was observing got stepped on from Gangles AI twin on purpose? She can fix that. But you loose an eye or tongue or something that was meant to be a punishment from Caine or Able? You’re on your own.
She has learned to ‘like’ most of the other players outside of Jax. He’s relentless in his cruelty, and only got worse after Kaufmo abstracted.
Every win she makes she’s given a reward for- whether she wants it or not… and if she looses? A sleepless night of punishment. In Pomnis opinion, some rewards can be just as terrible as punishments.
Rewards:
- bath + pampering
- alcohol
- simulated sun room with a garden
- interacting with the other players for a celebration
- a new outfit (sometimes with bonus abilities)
- lavish dinner dates
- ‘love’ bites
Punishments
- training
- physical and mental abuse
- being paired against an abstracted human
- locked in the mansion for days on end with no stimulation
- going up against Jax, Zooble, or Gangle.
- being displayed as a ‘bad’ doll to the other circus members
And other things for literally everything, buuuuut imma keep them to myself for now :)
@hootbon is the original creator of the Freakshow AU!
@sm-baby is the person I originally found the AU through and BOTH inspired me to try my hand at this animatic. (And maybe a few more to come!)
#tadc fanart#tadc au#freakshow au#animatic#current wip#commissionsopen#tadc pomni#tadc caine#tadc ragatha#tadc showtime#art trades open#hazbin hotel poison#dance#tadc#tadc oc#sketches
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okay so my theory about How To Train Your Dragon is that Astrid loved Hiccup WAYYYYY before the events of Romantic Flight but due to how the vikings lived in near constant combat with the dragons and young children/teens being forced to learn how to defend themselves and their families from an early age, she closed herself off to those feelings because by all accounts Hiccup was doomed to die. she resented how useless he was in combat, and she resented how much she cared. she was mean and dismissive to him out of fear that she would inevitably have to mourn him soon, and the colder she was the easier it would be.
then, miraculously, Hiccup begins to show some kind of competency in dealing with the dragons. but he's still not defending himself. he's finding strange ways of controlling them, but he's still as physically weak as he was before and Astrid can't see how whatever he's doing will help him outside of the training ring. great, you found out that Deadly Nadders like chin scratches. what about the Monstrous Nightmare burning down your house?
all this just makes Astrid angrier. how is Hiccup succeeding without violence? how will he survive without violence? violence is what she was born into. what does he know that she can't comprehend?
it's only later, when she sees that this scrawny beanpole of a boy has found a companion in a Night Fury, the embodiment of Death, that the miracle of him starts to make sense. he knows so much more than what any of their people can comprehend. and he wants so badly to show her. and for the first time ever, Astrid has hope.
i believe that this explains Astrid's comfortability and affection for Hiccup that she shows during and after the events of Romantic Flight, why she wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek after everything. considering her personality, i don't think Romantic Flight shows her falling in love with Hiccup for the first time. i think she has loved him for a long time, and was too trapped in self-protection to allow herself to feel it (similar to Katniss regarding Peeta). but now she has hope that maybe he won't be ripped away from her. now she sees how much more there is to him, sees that he embodies Mercy stronger than Death.
#just some sick morning thoughts#had this running around in my head last night but i needed to sleep on it to try to make it coherent#how to train your dragon#httyd#hiccup httyd#astrid httyd#hiccup x astrid
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— safety net
— summary: in which, you and clarisse are new to being in a relationship, so you help guide eachother and get to know eachother.
— pairings: clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader (cabin of choice)
— author’s note: can y’all tell this was rushed cs i really needed to get it out my drafts 🌚
— LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE
clarisse la rue loved you. she knew she did. she just didn’t know how to express it well.
being a daughter of ares and the way she had to mold herself for his approval, she’d learn that love was weakness. she’d learned that love only got in the way of what was really important, and that she didn’t need it in her life.
she didn’t know what she was feeling when she first saw you enter camp. she couldn’t describe the bitterness and anger whenever she saw you with one of the boys from apollo cabin or one of the girls from aphrodite cabin.
she’d heard her siblings talk about these things, how they felt whenever they were around someone their heart deemed special. she didn’t want to consult them, knowing how they’d probably get, so she went to talk to her new best friend silena.
“it sounds like you have a crush on her, clarisse.” clarisse choked. silena just confirmed everything she was feeling was tied to a crush? it felt stupid. all of it felt stupid; it made it sound like they were in third grade again and that was all people teased each other about.
it unfortunately did make sense to clarisse, though. the longing looks she’d give you, the anger that bubbled when she saw you with someone else, the speeding up of her heart whenever she saw you. she didn’t want to acknowledge what she felt, that she out of all people had fell weakness to love, but there was nothing she could do.
silena told her to start hanging around you more just to see what would happen. clarisse protested at first, saying her siblings and the rest of the camp including you would think she was weird, but a couple of nights after the conversation, she started considering it.
it eventually started with her choosing you to be her sparring partner. you were confused and a little flustered, not knowing the reason why she chose you out of all people. “‘cause i wanted to try something different,” was all she told you with a shrug.
it wasn’t hard for you to notice how she went a little softer on you, either. her grip on her spear was loosened a little, her steps weren’t as calculated, almost as if she was distracted. the weird thing was, even after she sparred with you, she still went hard on everybody else.
another thing to strike off the list — silena beauregard watched you a whole lot more now, especially whenever you were with clarisse. all of this had you confused becuase of how random it was.
then came the little touches; her hand would graze your waist or the small of your back, her fingers gently tracing over yours whenever she fixed your stance. she would linger for a little too long whenever it was time for her to leave.
you started staying up late wondering what was happening and why clarisse was doing this. you assumed she wasn’t a person who really… felt love towards people. people knew clarisse as a prideful, arrogant and powerful daughter of ares who always wanted her father’s approval. when you thought of love, clarisse was not the first person to come in mind.
yet, she acted as a girlfriend and protector towards you; defending you when you weren’t there to defend yourself, offered to walk you to your cabin. it wasn’t until a couple months and a lot of yearning later that you confronted her about it.
it was when she was walking you back to your cabin when you finally asked her what was going on. you stopped a few feet so your siblings couldn’t hear. “clarisse, what’s going on with you?” you asked her. she turned to look at you, feigning confusion. “what do you mean?”
“i mean you don’t usually do this. you don’t hang around people and act like you do with me. you don’t touch them like you do to me, and this is all just so sudden. i just wanna know why?” you looked her deep in her eyes. she licked her lips before breathing deeply.
“i like you. i do all this because i like you, y/n, and i’m scared.” she confessed. you felt like you knew why, but you still asked, “scared of what?” she swallowed thickly. “what if i lose you— what if you lose me? you know we can die at any moment to anything, i wouldn’t want to burden you with that.”
your hand came up to her cheek, your thumb gently rubbing against it. “clarisse, if i die solely because i’m a demigod, i’d rather die knowing i loved you for as long as i could.”
clarisse looked at you, just soaking you in. you were still here. you weren’t gone yet. she didn’t have all the time in the world, per say, but she took whatever time she could get.
it was after that night you’d start sneaking into eachothers cabins, hanging out even more around the camp, including after hours. clarisse expressed how worried she was because she never liked someone this much before, at least not that she was aware of.
“clar, it’s okay. i’m new to this to. we can figure it out.” you told her while you laid on her in her cabin bunk. she took a deep inhale, “okay.”
you two expressed what you liked and didn’t like, what your love languages were, what flowers you liked. every day, somehow, clarisse would have a new gift for you. she had one of the hephaestus kids make a necklace for you with both your initials engraved in it. you’d bring her a painted bead for her camp necklace after arts and crafts, and she’d wear it with pride.
everything was new to her, and it was new to you too, but you had each other as guides, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x you#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson fic
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So I have tried to request this prompt from someone else but I don't think their blog is that active anymore. If your willing I'd love to request the following.
Prompt: Reader is bisexual and gender neutral.
Reader is considered fairly attractive and gets flirted with pretty often by basically whoever gender wise. And maybe reader and Zelda even end up flirting a little bit. Reader would have a similar lackadaisical flirty personality as Warriors has.
I wanted to see how each of The Chain would react to this with the context of them having secret feelings for the reader.
2nd official request, woo look at me go 🏃💨
Sun: Gender-neutral Reader (”you”/they/them)
Orbit: Headcanons-ish
Stars: Zelda (Assuming they meant BOTW), + the classic Chain of Links <3
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, mild typical loz violence, Mildly Suggestive, & Trigger Warnings: none known.
Please comment if I missed any. /gen
so i like to think that modern flirting is radically different than their medieval flirting,
like mayyybbeee Wild can handle it, but even then, they have royalty/knights still, so hes still gettin flustered lol
and i like to think u learned that difference the first time Wars complimented ur new/strange modern fit, and u returned the energy?? except 10x stronger (to them)??
youve played the player, and beat him at his own game, the Captain of the knights is sputtering and shit LMAO
(he said smth like, “their beauty is god-like in this otherworldly clothing“ and YOU said smth like he’d “thank you, youd look better in my bed than in armor 👉 😎 👉 ” lmao)
funniest part is, bc its so natural, i can see u immediately shooting off smth and forgetting it instantly, much to the Links collective shock 😭
u go to towns and notice theres always 1 hero around to steer u away from shopkeepers, townsppl, etc so u wont flirt w/them LMAO
(when u finally notice, u just, “ohh i get it now, so im only allowed to flirt with someone named Link, ohhh, okayy” and they just, “NO we didnt say that-!” “No its just their bold flirtations are not for the weak of heart-!” “Yes.” “CAPTAIN-”)
the only one who they cant steer u away from is Zelda.
afterall, they kinda have to inform the Princess/now Queen of the kingdom, whats going on w/them traveling with Link (Wild) around time and space
the sheikah tablet had been disconnecting + reconnecting to Purah’s both fascination and worry
so as theyre invited to eat dinner and explain in the rebuilding castle, everyone’s absorbed in shadow talk or smth, and u can see Zelda’s struggling to follow along, u just casually bring it back to her, as she’s also trying to write notes and theyve moved on too quickly w/o her
“wowww, all these men and not a single one’s gonna offer the lady any, ‘hi, hello, how is the most beautiful girl in the world today?’ “
and the gapingggg from the links shut them right up, while Zelda goes all pink and coughs, and agrees that they should move on to more chill topics lol
and u can crack anybody tbh, Zelda giggles at ur compliments all the time, even in work mode, u can deffo get Wars to blush to his ears, and even Time to look away first in a flirty + staring contest lol
Legend might actually put his hands up like he’s prepared to fight u anytime u try to flirt at him when its just you two, before he realizes what hes doing and stops LMAO
oh and u absolutely get a lot of mileage out of that one lol
the best reactions have gotta be, in order of most to least extreme: Hyrule, Sky, Wild, Four, Legend, Twilight, Wars, Time
Rulie, Sky, Wild and Four fall into that classic, shocked-heart-eyes, full blush up to their pointy ears, etc category when u get them,
they are also very easy to get lmao
Four is the best at recovery, or ducking away, but if its the Colors, its this type of obvious lol, w/the obvious ones like Red and Blue, Green takes a little more to break, and tbh Vio could go toe-to-toe w/u better than Wars tbh before he crumbles under the pressure lol
Legend, Twi, Wars, and Time faces may not change a lot, bc theyre trying to save it lmao, but the way their cheeks go pink and ears twitch is how u know ur gettting to them (along w/legend’s defensive reaction to getting cornered LMAO)
Twi has caved and covered his face w/his hands before lmao
one day youll get Time to break more than an ear twitch, and looking away, One Day.
(Wind is in fact, having the time of his life, watching you absolutely hilariously wreck these otherwise v serious heroes, hes glad u got them to finally relax a little, but also its hilarious seeing Wars and Legend red faces, and occasionally stealing Wild’s tablet to take funny pics of them all to blackmail later lol)
☆
idk how good that was, as im kinda bust at flirty banter between characters, so i hope this suffices ur need to flirt w/everyone lol
also i feel i should apologize for not rlly including pronouns? it just kinda comes w/writing reader stories to put them in 2nd person to both make intimacy for readers w/their little avatar im controlling for them, and to purposefully remove the need for gendered pronouns :/
so im sorry i couldnt quite figure out how to make it where “they/them” got used much, i promise i love all pronouns, its just a skill issue tbh lmao
btw
send any prayers, blessings, or good vibes u got my way tomorrow bc im getting wisdom teeth surgery and i am intimidated✨
ill post more asks (i have multiple asks!! <33) after im lying in bed lamenting my painful fate,
mostly just worried ill react badly to the drugs, also the idea of being knocked out during surgery is a little scary so what can i say
have a great weekend guys!! thanks for reading if u did :)
Peace out,
🌙
#lu x reader#linked universe x reader#link x reader#loz link x reader#linked universe reader#lu x gender neutral reader#linked universe gn reader#gn reader#gn reader imagines#moon asks#tags are so hard#send good vibes u guys surgery is scary#ive acc been awake the last time i got a tooth extracted which is why this is extra weird for me#also i got it late in life im 23 lmao#uknow maybe u flirting w/the boys would automatically up their game so then they start getting better at beatin u at it lmao#omfg can u imagine tho#medieval looking wars that usually speaks shakespeare level flirts just says now#'so if i offered u enough shiny trinkets- would u be interesting in dating me?'#lmao
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Huhu, me again :) As I am re-reading your stories while stuck at home with the flu, I was thinking of another possible story: Reader is Rebecca's friend and a high-end prostitute. She has seen and experienced some rough things and is not trusting around men at all. Elijah is in love with her, but she will only accept him as a client (just sex for money, no kissing, no tenderness). He does everything in his power to change her mind.
Thanks, ❤️. Hope you have a lovely weekend!
Safe
18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}
In a world where trust is hard to come by, you've learned to keep your guard up, especially around men. But when Elijah enters your life, he's determined to break through your defenses, venturing into a realm of passion, pain, and the search for something real.
♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 I always adore your requests! Hope you are feeling better ♡♡
8.2k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, white knight Elijah, lots of fluff and affection, Rebekah being badass...
PLEASE NOTE: this has descriptions of sexual assault, trauma & violence... don't read if these things trigger you ♡♡♡
Elijah considered himself a man of experience. He had seen and done everything in his many centuries. He was no stranger to the ways of the world, to the ways of power, to the ways of pleasure.
He watched society evolve and change in many ways, but some things always stayed the same, even after one thousand years.
Elijah knew what he was to women, the way they would fawn over him, the way they would throw themselves at him. It had never bothered him, he used this privilege to disarm potential threats, to protect those he loves.
Never in his long years had he considered paying for sex, he was not the kind of man that needed to pay for a woman's affections. He was a gentleman, he treated women with respect, courted them, loved them.
But then, there was you.
He would meet you in hotels, only the most luxurious, expensive, exclusive ones, where no questions were asked, and privacy was guaranteed.
You were always punctual and dressed to the nines, always with the most stunning outfits, the finest dresses, the highest heels. Your hair was always perfectly styled, your makeup expertly done.
You were far more put together than he could ever be. It made him want to believe that it was all just for him, but he knew better than that. You looked expensive because you were expensive.
The first time was a complete whim, a moment of weakness. He met you through his sister, at an event she was hosting. He tried to get you in his bed the old fashioned way, with his charm, and it almost worked. He was not used to rejection. But, he got the impression that it was not personal, for you it was just business.
So, he took a chance and hired you for the night. You were not expecting it, he could tell, but you quickly hid it behind a mask of professionalism.
The sex was... Immaculate. He would be a fool to say anything else. In his many centuries of living, he had experienced his fair share of pleasures. He was an excellent lover, he knew it, he prided himself in being one, but you were the first woman he had been with, where he felt like the student.
He would never forget the image of you on your knees before him, with your red lips wrapped around his cock, the sight would stay burned into his retinas for eternity.
You were the perfect companion, always the right thing to say, the right thing to do. You would only give, and never take, leaving him wanting more.
After your first meeting, he became a regular, every Friday at 8pm at the Roosevelt Hotel.
It had become his routine, you would arrive dressed in something different each time, more breathtaking than the last. And each Friday, you would repeat the same motions; meet him at the bar, have a drink, make small talk, before inevitably returning to his hotel room.
You never looked him in the eyes when you rode him, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs trembling and breasts bouncing, the very vision of sin.
You were all fire and passion, never letting your heart get involved, as was your work's rule. Always just fucking, no kissing, no affection, never sharing anything that had the smallest ounce of intimacy.
There was only once where he would have thought he saw an ounce of vulnerability in your eyes.
On that particular Friday, Elijah had arranged for the room to have flowers and champagne and a wonderful spread for dinner. When you arrived, he greeted you the same way he always did, taking you in his arms, feeling the weight of you pressed against him. When he released you from the embrace, he turned to lead you to the couch, but found your cheeks tinged with pink and tears running down your face.
That was new.
You composed yourself almost immediately, a smile returning to your beautiful face. The moment passed. You apologized, saying the roses were so lovely, you felt a bit sentimental for a moment.
He wanted to call it out, but he was not a fool; you were crying because you were moved. He wondered if anyone had treated you with sincerity before. But he held his tongue, only responding that he was glad you liked them.
You drew him in like a moth to a flame. Your beauty, your intelligence, your wit, it all appealed to him, but there was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.
He wasn't sure what it was, why you affected him so. Perhaps it was the mystery, the fact that he could never really get close to you, not like he wanted.
You were the perfect escort, always attentive, always beautiful, always ready to please. But you were also distant, aloof. You didn't want any affection from him, or to speak of romance, of love.
Your emotional unavailability felt like a mirror, reflecting his own loneliness, his own fear of intimacy.
He wondered how somebody so young, with so little years behind them, could harbor such pain behind their eyes.
Perhaps that is what drew him to you, the possibility that you could understand him, the darkness that lived inside him, the burden of immortality, the isolation that came with it.
He wanted to know you, not just the performance you put on for him, but what lies underneath the façade.
But you didn't allow him to. You kept him at arm's length, never letting him get too close.
He tried to be respectful, he tried not to push you, but he found himself wanting more, wanting things he shouldn't.
You were a good girl, you gave him what he paid for, nothing more. But he wanted more, he wanted you. He wanted to take you out on a date, to spoil you, to make you feel loved, to show you the world.
But he knew that would never happen. You were a professional, and he was just another client. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but hope.
He would keep coming back, and maybe one day, you would let him in. Maybe one day, he would finally get to show you the truth of his feelings.
Maybe one day, you would fall in love with him, too.
You were on another date with a new client, you always met them in public first, making sure they were who they claimed to be before you headed to the hotel.
You were always cautious, using protection, staying safe, trusting your instincts.
You tried your best not to judge your clients, you didn't know why they sought you out instead of dating. For some, it was simply convenience, for others, it was something more sinister. You worked hard to keep the latter far away from you.
This client was a bit shy, he wouldn't meet your gaze or answer any of your questions. It was like pulling teeth. But he didn't have that "off" vibe. Maybe he was just uncomfortable around women and that's why he sought you out.
He seemed to loosen up after a few drinks, his smile becoming more confident, his laugh deepening. His hands would occasionally drift toward your thigh as he leaned in close to talk.
"I rented the penthouse for tonight, it comes with a hot tub," he said awkwardly.
"Oh, that's nice," you tried to sound interested, taking a fake sip of your drink. You never drank or consumed anything while working. You had a fear of being drugged, you prioritized staying alert when with new clients.
"Would you care to see it?" his tone was low and raspy, and his gaze darkened with arousal.
"Of course," you smirked, taking his hand as he led you out of the bar.
Your phone buzzed, it was a text from Rebekah; she always made sure to check in when you were meeting new clients. You smiled, knowing she was looking out for you. The two of you had an emergency plan, if you ever felt unsafe, all you had to do was text her the word 'trouble' and she would come running, and wouldn't hesitate to defend you.
This was another reason you loved being friends with Rebekah, despite the vampire thing, her overprotectiveness of the people she cared for, she was so fierce. It felt good to have someone watch your back in a business such as this. That hasn't always been the case for you.
You texted her your hotel and room number as usual, trying not to let your mind wander to her brother. It was unprofessional to be thinking about him while you were with another client, but you couldn't help it.
It had been nearly three months since you began your arrangement with Elijah, and yet he was always the one that occupied your thoughts, plaguing your dreams, controlling your waking thoughts, your fantasies.
Never had a client affected you in such a way. Sure, you had attractive and charming men seeking your company, ones that smelled nice and tipped well. But Elijah was something else entirely. He made you feel things you didn't want to feel, you had rules, boundaries, reasons to keep a safe distance. Yet with every encounter, you were drawn deeper and deeper.
You pushed the image of him out of your mind, focusing on your present client. In the elevator, his hands were all over you, pawing at you like a horny teen. Clearly, he was very excited about what was going to happen when you got to the penthouse.
"Baby, slow down, we've got all night," you reminded him, hoping he would calm down.
He ignored you and leaned in to kiss you, he was new, so you politely pushed on his chest and let him know what your rules were.
"Hold on baby, there are rules, remember?" you said, pushing his hands away.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I thought that was just a scam, you know, a way to drive up the price," he said, his hand going to his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "How much extra are we talking?"
You could see his wallet was thick with cash and you felt sick, but you played it cool. "Those are my boundaries, honey. No kissing, protection mandatory, no touching unless I say so. That's just how I do business," you said, flashing him a bright smile.
He looked disappointed, but he didn't push. "Fine," he said, putting his wallet away.
You reached the top floor and he led you to the penthouse suite, opening the door and stepping aside. "After you," he said, his voice filled with barely contained desire.
The suite was luxurious, but not the best you've seen. There was a hot tub in the corner and a huge king sized bed. The bathroom was stocked with expensive toiletries and there was a large TV.
"Take your clothes off," he demanded, taking a seat on the bed.
He was far more assertive now that you were alone with him, more controlling. This wasn't too bad, you could work with that. He was older, his hair was a dirty blonde, starting to recede, he was kind of handsome if you squinted.
You began to strip, revealing your black lace lingerie. Your red dress fell to the floor in a puddle of fabric and you heard him growl with excitement.
He eyed you hungrily, licking his lips. "How many hours did I pay for again?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust.
"Five, and I've already started the clock," you said, giving him a coy smile.
"Good," he said, pulling out his wallet and tossing it on the bed. "Come here."
You walked over, stopping in front of him. He reached up, grabbing your breast roughly. "You have great tits," he said, squeezing.
You smiled at him, pretending to enjoy it. You knew he was paying for this, for the fantasy. You pride yourself on your performance, making sure your clients are happy, but you could already tell this was going to be a long couple of hours.
He seemed impatient, rough and demanding. Not exactly your favorite, but this was part of the job. Besides, you had been through worse.
"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his fingers digging into your flesh.
"Yes, sir," you replied, playing the part.
He grabbed your face roughly, making you look into his eyes, then everything became strange, fuzzy, distorted.
Your body felt numb, like you were floating, the room was spinning, and you had the strange sensation of being both in your body and outside it.
You were riding him, you didn't remember how you got there, or when he took his clothes off, but there he was, his cock filling you.
He was groaning and moaning beneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Your neck hurt, your breasts hurt, your thighs hurt, you looked down to see deep bite marks all over you, blood running down your skin.
You blinked, and suddenly you were on your back, the bedspread covered in blood, your blood. You looked up at the man above you, his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk, his eyes completely black.
"What's wrong, sweetheart? Not enjoying yourself?" he sneered, his hand going to your throat. He squeezed, cutting off your air supply.
You gasped, struggling to breathe. Your lungs burned, your eyes filled with tears.
"What did you do to me?" You said, your voice sounding like it was coming from far away. He couldn't have drugged you, you didn't consume anything with him, you were always so careful.
He bit into your neck, his fangs sinking into your skin, holding you down with incredible strength. Cold fear ran through your veins, he was like Rebekah, like Elijah, he was a vampire.
You struggled, trying to fight him off, but you couldn't move, his strength was overwhelming. You felt him drinking your blood, his teeth tearing through your skin.
He pulled back, rolling off of you, lying beside you. "Don't worry, sweetheart, it'll only hurt for a minute," he said, his voice full of malicious glee. "Go wash up for round two," he demanded.
You sat up, trying to gather yourself. You needed to get out of there, and fast. You were bleeding heavily, and the world was still spinning.
He got off the bed and headed to the kitchenette, the sounds of glasses clinking and liquid pouring into a glass filled the air. He must've been getting a drink.
You were lightheaded from the blood loss, your legs shaky. You searched for your purse on the floor, the room looked different, distorted, and you couldn't find the damn thing anywhere. You were losing precious seconds looking for it, your adrenaline keeping the panic at bay.
You caught sight of it, it was beside the night table. You snatched it up and grabbed your phone, typing out the word 'trouble' to send it to Rebekah, hoping the word was enough for her to get the message.
You felt his hands on you again, a hard tug against your hair.
"Back on the bed like a good little whore," he hissed, throwing you on the bed. "I wasn't done with you."
He flipped you onto your stomach, hiking one leg up and exposing you to him. The edges of your vision grew dark, and you could hear your heartbeat growing slower, weaker. You tried to scream, but no sound came out.
You were going to die. He was going to kill you, and no one would know. Rebekah wouldn't come. You would be gone, and no one would ever find you.
Then, as your vision faded to black, all you could think of was how this was the end, how you didn't want to die this way. You had fought so hard to escape this fate, to be someone; something better than this, and yet, here you were, being raped and killed by a monster.
In the darkness you heard a bang, the cracking of wood. Someone was yelling, there was a struggle.
Then, a hand on your face, warm, soft. You heard a familiar voice, a voice that made your heart skip a beat.
"Elijah," you whispered, barely audible.
"I'm here, I'm here," he said, his voice full of panic.
You felt him press his wrist to your lips, his own blood filling your mouth. "Drink," he said softly, and you obeyed.
His blood sent a wave of heat through your body, the pain receding. You drank deeply, the world growing clearer.
You opened your eyes, his worried face above yours. He immediately pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked form, scooping you up and cradling you in his arms.
You clung to him, feeling the last vestiges of the monster's compulsion fade. You could see Rebekah standing over the man, whose spine was in her hand, her eyes dark with rage.
You were suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation, and tears began to stream down your face. You sobbed, the trauma, the horror of what had almost happened hitting you full force. You thought you had escaped this life, that it was all in your past, but it was there, fresh and ugly, rearing its head like a hydra, reminding you it would always be a part of you.
Elijah held you tightly, whispering soothing words as Rebekah inspected the body. He was solid, strong, his arms encircling you, holding you together.
"Who is he? One of Marcel's?" Elijah asked, his voice low and angry.
"He better not be," she said, taking a picture of the vampire's face and sending it to someone.
She stood up, wiping her hands on her pants, the blood from the dead vampire staining the fabric. "I'll take care of it," she said, her voice hard and cold. "Get her home," she said, gesturing to you.
Elijah nodded, carrying you out of the room. You clung to him, trying not to fall apart, not to let the pain overwhelm you. He helped you get dressed, you felt like you were outside of your body, watching the events unfold from somewhere above, somewhere safe.
It was the same place you went before. When you were younger, when you were forced into this life, it was a coping mechanism, a way to protect yourself from the horror of it all. It was a way to survive, and it was serving you now, letting you function as your body went through the motions.
You found yourself in Elijah's car, his smell surrounding you. You buried your face in his suit jacket, inhaling his scent, letting it ground you.
He was quiet, his face grim, his jaw clenched. He drove quickly, his hands gripping the steering wheel. You expected a lecture about your lifestyle, perhaps a few well-meaning but patronizing comments about how you should change, should find a new line of work.
But he said nothing. He didn't judge, didn't make you feel small, or dirty. He simply drove, his presence a balm on your battered soul.
You arrived at your building, standing at your doorway, trying to find your keys. Your hands were shaking, and he gently took them from you, unlocking the door.
You stepped inside, feeling a sense of relief. You were safe now, he had saved you, and you were home. You turned to see him still waiting in the doorway, his eyes full of concern.
"You don't have to invite me in," he said softly. "I'll wait out here until I know you're safe."
Your heart melted a little, his kindness catching you off guard. He was a gentleman, and his chivalry touched something deep inside you.
You could feel yourself being pulled toward him, and it took all of your resolve to pull back, to remind yourself of the lines, the rules, and boundaries.
"It's okay, you can come in," you said.
He nodded, stepping into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He stood there awkwardly, it was breaking all the rules, being at your home, and he was unsure of the boundaries.
He could see you, the real you, in every facet of your home. From the paintings to the books, the carefully curated pieces of your life. It felt so personal, to be standing in this space, and he could see the pain and vulnerability, the fight in you. The beautiful complexity. It was so... human, to see your life displayed so honestly, no veneer, no illusion, no façade.
"I'm going to take a shower, make yourself at home," you said, gesturing towards the living room.
He nodded, moving towards the couch, taking a seat.
You disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
He was angry, furious. Marcel better have answers as to why some random vampire was in the quarter attacking people, because if he didn't, there would be hell to pay.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rage. He could hear the water running, and he tried not to think about you, what you just went through, what could have happened.
It all happened so fast, one moment he's in the compound, the next he's following Rebekah into a hotel room, watching her rip the spine from that vile beast.
Seeing you there, pale and lifeless, made him snap. He felt something shift inside him, his mind clouded by anger. In the years he lived, Elijah prided himself on being a rational man. He didn't lose control often, or ever, really, but at that moment, seeing you there, he was lost.
Rebekah killed him too quickly, he deserved a more painful death. He would have drawn it out, tortured him slowly, watching the light go out in his eyes. He hated vampires like that. Abusing humans in that way, playing with one's food was so very undignified.
He was so lost in thought, he didn't notice you walking out of the bathroom, wearing a large t-shirt that went past your knees.
You felt a bit more like yourself, the shower having washed away some of the pain and horror. You still felt shaken, and a little dazed, but you were starting to come back to yourself.
"I'm sorry, I think your jacket is ruined," you said, sitting down next to him.
He smiled sadly, glancing at the bloodied garment in his hands. "It's just a suit jacket. I can get another one," he replied.
A silence fell over you, a little uncomfortable, full of the emotions the night had stirred up. You felt raw, vulnerable. Like he could see right through you. Like everything was different, had changed, somehow. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he saved you.
You watched as he seemed to have a mental war with himself, his mind far away. You wondered what was going on in that ancient mind of his, what demons he was wrestling with, or what judgments he was passing.
Finally he looked at you, his expression soft, understanding. "I'm sorry about what happened. To you," he said gently.
The sincerity of his words took you by surprise, and tears sprang into your eyes. You blinked them back, not wanting to fall apart.
"It's my own fault, I'm used to this sort of thing," you replied, waving it off. "I knew better."
"You are used to this," he said, his tone careful. "You shouldn't be used to this," he explained.
Your eyes snapped to him, searching for the meaning behind his words.
"No one should ever have to endure that. No one," he said firmly.
He didn't say you should leave the business, act like some sort of savior, telling you what you should and shouldn't do. He didn't take it upon himself to make a proclamation about your lifestyle. Instead he met the facts with pure empathy and honesty.
It felt... genuine. It was a first. And somehow, coming from him, it meant something more. His kindness was a floodgate that allowed emotions, memories and old pain to come rushing forward.
"I ran away from home when I was just fourteen, my mom's boyfriend was... He would beat me, touch me," you said, tears stinging your eyes.
You hadn't talked about this in a long time, you had spent years trying to forget it ever happened, burying it under layers of denial, and in that moment, it all came flooding back.
"I met a woman on the street that offered me shelter for a night, and it snowballed into her making me turn tricks to repay her," you explained, looking anywhere but at his face.
It felt good to talk about it, to get the weight off of your chest. You had kept it all bottled up for so long, and the night had triggered those old memories, so it seemed right to finally share your story. His presence was warm, safe, comforting, and something told you, you could be vulnerable with him, and not be judged for it.
"When the women offered to take me in, it seemed like a blessing. Like she was saving me, offering to feed and clothe me," you sighed, shaking your head, lost in the memories of your youth.
"But she wasn't saving me, she was buying me. Buying my misery, my pain. My innocence, my body, my trust. And then, one day, I was beaten bloody, the guy she sold me to for the night refused to give her a cent and she put her cigarette out on my neck." You looked down at your lap, remembering the smell of your flesh burning, the pain radiating through your skin.
"I wasn't useful to her any longer, so she dumped me like a bag of trash." You spat the words out, trying to stay objective. Distant. You felt his eyes on you.
"And what did you do?" He asked, his voice so low and gentle. So inviting.
"I slept in a dumpster, stole clothes off of someone's line, begged on the corner, just to get by, to eat. A lady took pity on me and gave me enough money for a bus ticket," you continued, wiping a single tear away.
"The first bus I saw took me to New Orleans, and I've been here ever since," you concluded, a cold sense of finality settling over you. You didn't realize how heavy the memory had weighed on you, it had sat in the back of your mind, never giving you a moment of peace, haunting you.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you like that," you said, wiping the tears from your cheeks.
"Never apologize for what's happened to you, or how you've reacted to it," he replied. "I know this won't be much help, but you're a survivor. And you did what you had to, and still managed to end up here."
The simplicity of the statement hit you deeply. He understood. He understood what you went through, where you were coming from. He reached out and wiped away another one of your tears. You leaned into his touch, craving the comfort of his warmth.
You didn't understand how, or why, but somehow he had made it into your fortress, your walled off heart. A place no man had reached, touched or explored. Yet there he was. His thumb still swiped gently across your cheek, his dark eyes staring into your own.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. He was firm and solid, his shoulder the perfect spot to nestle in. This gesture, the simple embrace was overwhelming and your emotions spilling over. You cried, really cried, for the first time in many years. Not just tears streaming from your eyes, or silent drops, you sobbed. Your body racking with each painful outburst, a river of tears flowing over his crisp dress shirt. He held you the entire time, rubbing his hand in small circles across your back, whispering words of comfort, and strength.
Somehow, the mere knowledge of him understanding you, listening to you, opened the dam, releasing all of the pain you had repressed and carried around like an overloaded suitcase.
You cried until you exhausted yourself, and he picked you up, effortlessly and set you in his lap, your arms around his neck, your body folded into his. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, soothing, grounding. You could stay like that forever, cocooned in his strength, feeling truly safe for the first time.
You let your eyes droop, knowing that nothing could hurt you while he was there, and you succumbed to sleep, his hand combing gently through your hair, humming a soft melody murmured in a long forgotten tongue.
You woke up with a start, the morning sun streaming in through the window. You were alone, Elijah's suit jacket draped over you.
You frowned, wondering if perhaps it all had been a dream. If the monster, if the comfort of a stranger had never happened, just a horrible, awful, vivid nightmare. You glanced down and saw the dry bloodstains covering the jacket and realized it hadn't been.
Elijah wasn't a stranger. Not anymore. Something had changed between you, in a matter of hours. He saw all of your exposed, bloody, emotional, broken places, and you showed him a tiny piece of your soul, told him of your past.
You could smell his cologne, his smell lingering in the air, a faint scent left on the jacket. You took a deep breath and slipped the garment back on, smiling sadly.
You were a sucker for a nice suit.
The other smell in the air was coffee and you followed the scent into the kitchen. Rebekah was there, sitting at the table, two cups in front of her.
"Hope you like it strong," she said as you entered, gesturing to a cup of coffee in front of her.
You grabbed it, taking a sip, appreciating the kick of flavor.
"Sleep well?" she asked, glancing at you over the cup of her own.
"Honestly? It's the best night sleep I've had in ages," you admitted, taking a seat, pulling his jacket a little tighter, it felt comforting to have it on, like a security blanket.
She laughed, studying you carefully, her eyes settling on the jacket.
You wondered if she knew, if she was able to tell you had developed a very powerful crush on her brother.
Rebekah didn't know that Elijah was one of your clients, and it felt like a big secret to keep. She never judged you for your job, but she certainly judged those who sought your services.
You felt guilty for not telling her, but it was all so complicated. Your feelings for him were evolving, and you weren't quite sure what they were, or what they meant. She was your only friend and you wanted to confide in her, but you didn't know how.
"Beks, I... I have to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous.
"What is it?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Eli- Elijah has been my client since you introduced me to him," you blurted out.
She sat there, shocked, not saying anything for a moment.
"Elijah. Like my brother... Elijah? The one who was with us last night, and spent the night here? That Elijah?" She said, the look of shock on her face almost comical.
"Yes, that Elijah," you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks.
"My noble brother, who is too honorable and dignified to wear the same tie twice... Has been paying you for sex?" she said slowly, seeming to process the information, before a smirk formed on her lips. "What a delicious twist. I always thought Klaus was the manwhore brother," she added with a cackle.
You blinked, your jaw hanging open, before laughing. The tension easing, knowing she didn't hate you.
You took a deep drink of your coffee, relaxing, laughing. "I'll have you know Elijah is a great client. He's an excellent tipper, not an unkind word to say, and no requests are too kinky or strange," you said with a smile.
Rebekah raised her mug towards you in a cheers motion, clearly amused, but her expression fell a bit when she took you in a little more. "You like him," she stated, her blue eyes studying your face.
"He's my client," you answered defensively.
"Yes, I am aware of the rules you play by, but you like him." She repeated her observation, this time more sure of herself.
"Yeah," you sighed. "Maybe it's wrong to, you know, develop feelings for a client. But something's different, I don't know how to explain it," you finished.
"Well, this explains why he insisted on coming with me to save you last night. And why he's gone all avenging angel this morning. I've never seen him so protective over someone who isn't family," she said, grinning from ear to ear.
Avenging angel? It must have shown on your face because Rebekah launched into the tale of her brother's crusade this morning.
Apparently, he decided to eliminate everyone who associated with your attacker. Including the vampire who sired him and several others. He was methodical, brutal and utterly relentless in his vengeance. Tying them up and letting them burn in the rising sun.
"That's..." You couldn't find the words. It was insane, and it was for you. He was doing this because of you, and it made your heart swell with emotion.
"You're important to him," Rebekah said, her voice soft. "He doesn't do murder sprees for just anyone."
You sat there, processing the information, your mind a whirlwind. You weren't sure what to think, or how to feel, the fluttering in your stomach now a hurricane.
You had never been important to anyone, not like this. Men had always seen you as an object, a means to an end, but never someone who cared about your safety and well-being.
You loved him, even though it broke all your rules, all the careful walls you had built around yourself. He somehow managed to slip past your defenses, stealing his way into your heart and planting seeds for a future.
It had been a few weeks since the attack, and you were finally starting to feel normal again. You went back to work, seeing your regular clients.
Rebekah had personally vetted and compelled every single one, and you felt safe and protected. None of them could possibly harm you, not with her looking over you.
The only thing that hadn't returned to normal was your regular once-a-week meetings with Elijah. He never called, or showed up, and it ate away at you.
Were you different to him now? After he learned about your past? Maybe he saw you as damaged goods, no longer a fantasy he could indulge in.
You weren't going to reach out, not after what had happened. He had been so kind and compassionate, but you weren't certain if it had really been genuine, or the situation making him act that way.
It hurt. As much as you tried to push it aside, and pretend it wasn't important to you, it was. Not just the money, but his presence, his kind eyes, the gentle way he cared for you. You missed him, and it broke your heart.
You needed something familiar, something safe. You had worn his jacket to bed every night since the attack, it was comforting, it made you feel safe. But not having him, being uncertain of what was going on, it was frustrating, and painful.
So, when you opened the door and saw him standing there, you were surprised. He had a bag of groceries in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, an apologetic look on his face.
"Hi," he said, a shy smile on his face. "I'm sorry, for being away for so long."
You opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. He walked past you, a nervous energy radiating off of him.
"It's okay, I figured you found another girl to play with," you replied off-handedly, a small part of you hoping to get a reaction.
He placed the bag on the table and spun around. "I assure you, no other woman holds a candle to your charms."
You laughed, liking his response, so typically him.
"I bought some groceries, and some wine," he said, gesturing to the bag and the bouquet. "Is there anything you would like me to make you for dinner?"
You smiled at him, his thoughtfulness making you blush. "Anything would be fine," you said, watching as he moved around your small kitchen. "You didn't have to do all this," you added, still a little taken aback by his gesture.
"I want to," he said, his brown eyes meeting yours. "I have some things I'd like to say, and I think a nice dinner might help."
You nodded, a nervous energy filling the room. He poured some wine, handing you a glass. You hesitated for a moment, fear creeping in, a million thoughts of how this could go wrong flooding your mind.
He noticed the hesitation and gently took your hand, giving it a kiss.
"If you don't want to drink, that is okay," he whispered, his voice full of understanding.
"No, it's okay," you said, smiling shyly.
You sat at the island, watching him as he worked. He was so at ease, so confident. He chopped and stirred, and the aroma of delicious food filled the air. You never experienced this sort of thing growing up, the peaceful domesticity. It was strange, sitting there with Elijah, it felt so foreign, yet so normal. So perfect. He moved about the kitchen with a practiced ease, humming softly.
You sipped the wine, the sweet taste filling your mouth. You couldn't remember the last time you had drunk a whole glass, let alone several.
After a while, he put the food on the plates, and handed one to you. It smelled delicious, and looked even better. You took a bite, the flavors exploding in your mouth.
"Wow, this is incredible," you exclaimed, taking another bite.
He chuckled, sitting down next to you on the counter, it was so casual, so relaxed, almost intimate.
"How did you learn how to cook?" You asked, curious.
"I've lived for a thousand years, I think it would be pretty embarrassing if I didn't know how to make a proper meal," he replied, his voice laced with amusement.
"I always forget just how old you are," you said, smirking.
"Does it bother you?" He asked, his voice hesitant.
"No," you said, smiling reassuringly.
You finished eating, the two of you chatting about mundane things, no talk of work or pasts, just simple conversation. It was refreshing, being able to just be, no pressure or expectations.
After you were done, he took your plate and started washing the dishes. You couldn't help but laugh, and he turned around, a look of confusion on his face.
"What's so funny?" He asked, drying his hands.
"You just... cooking, cleaning," you said, trying to compose yourself. "I've never seen anything like it,"
"Is that a bad thing?" He asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"No," you said, grinning, "it's actually really nice,"
"Good," he said, chuckling, then he splashed some soap bubbles at you.
You gasped and glared at him, wiping the suds off your top.
"Oh, you did not just do that," you said, a wicked smile on your lips.
You grabbed the sponge and squirted him, laughing as the soap hit his face. He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes.
"That's how you want to play it, hmm?" He asked, a mischievous smirk on his lips.
He grabbed the faucet and turned it on, spraying you with water. You squealed and tried to dodge, but he was too fast, your feet slipping on the now wet kitchen floor. You went sliding, and Elijah caught you in his arms, laughing.
Your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it, beating furiously in your chest. His warm arms were wrapped around you, and your face was inches from his. He was so close, so solid, so real. The world around you disappeared, all that mattered was him. You wanted to give in, to let yourself feel, but fear crept in.
The past flashed through your mind, the memories, the pain, the shame. You pulled away, your heart aching.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, your eyes full of tears.
He took a step back, his face full of understanding.
"It's okay," he said softly, his hand reaching out and stroking your cheek.
"What did you want to talk to me about? Why are you really here?" You asked, afraid of the answer.
"I..." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "I am no longer in need of your services,"
Your heart sank, your body suddenly feeling cold. It was the answer you were expecting, but it still hurt. After what he saw in that penthouse, after all of his concern and comfort, he was done with you. Your fears were coming true.
You nodded, forcing a weak smile.
"I just..." he trailed off, his eyes still searching yours, his hand still on your cheek. "I love you, and I've been using you," he said, his eyes full of sadness. "That's why I stopped coming, it was... too much. It felt like I was taking advantage of you."
You stared at him, shock washing over you. It felt like the world had stopped moving. Love? A word you never thought would apply to you, yet here was a man, looking at you with such tenderness, such compassion, such pure undiluted love. It wasn't something you could process, love wasn't a feeling you felt worthy of, it wasn't something you believed you deserved.
"Elijah..." You whispered, your voice barely audible. "You don't love me, you love the escort, the persona,"
"No, I love you, all of you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "The good, the bad, the messy, all of it. That's why I can't use you anymore, because I want to love you, not just fuck you,"
You stood there, your emotions warring within you. Part of you was overjoyed, the other part was terrified.
You had never been loved before, and the thought of it was both exhilarating and terrifying. But you couldn't deny the pull between the two of you, the chemistry that was always there.
And it wasn't just physical, there was something deeper, something more. Something that was worth taking a chance on.
You reached out, your hand touching his face. You could feel his breath on your skin, his warmth radiating through you. Your heart was beating so fast, your hands trembling, but you pulled him closer, your lips ghosting across his.
He inhaled sharply, his eyes searching yours, his hand gently touching your face. You closed your eyes, his scent filling your nose. You didn't care that he was your client, that you swore this would never happen, or any of the reasons you always believed it would be better to stay distant.
He was the first one to move, kissing you softly, you could feel the love, the passion, the desire. His hands tangled in your hair, the kiss growing deeper, more intense.
You clung to him, your body pressed against his, the world around you fading away. It was perfect, the moment you had been waiting for. The first time you felt like someone actually wanted you, and it was better than anything you had ever imagined.
His hand slid down your body, his fingers brushing against your skin. You could feel the heat rising within you, the need for him growing stronger. He picked you up, his lips never leaving yours, and carried you into the bedroom.
He laid you on the bed, his body hovering over you. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands caressing your skin.
You moaned, your body arching into him. You wanted him, all of him. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off. He helped you, then pulled your top over your head.
He trailed kisses down your neck, to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipples. You let out a soft moan, your hands tangled in his hair.
He continued his exploration, his lips trailing lower, down your stomach, and stopped at the waistband of your skirt. He hooked his thumbs under it, and slowly pulled it down, his mouth kissing your hips.
He kneeled between your legs, kissing the soft skin of your thighs, waiting for your permission to break the rules.
This wasn't work, or something you were forced to do. This was something new, something special.
You spread your legs further, your arousal glistening in the dim light. He moved up your body, kissing your neck as he peeled off his remaining clothes. You reached up, tracing his jaw, and then cupping his face. He looked up at you, his eyes full of love, lust, and worry.
You nodded your head, giving him the permission he needed. His hands gripped your panties, slowly sliding them down. Your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation building.
He kissed your clit, his tongue exploring the sensitive spot. You let out a soft moan, your body shaking.
He took his time, wanting to taste you, wanting to give you pleasure. You deserved to feel good, to forget the pain, if even just for a moment.
He kept teasing you, his tongue circling your clit, then dancing around it. You were aching for him, the tension inside you building.
You gripped the sheets, your body writhing beneath him. You felt the pressure release, a wave of pleasure washing over you.
You floated on a cloud of bliss, your body tingling with aftershocks. He kissed his way back up to you, his lips finding yours.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
You smiled, cupping his face, pulling him close and kissing him. You had heard that from countless men over the years, but this was the first time you believed it, believed him.
You felt the length of him rubbing against your thigh. You reached down, stroking him, letting him know how much you wanted him.
He was so close, the scent of him filling your senses. He pressed himself against you, his erection teasing you, the ache between your thighs growing.
He wanted to make love to you, to show you what it meant to be with someone who cared about you, who loved you.
He slowly parted your legs, his gaze locked on yours, waiting for the final bit of permission.
You couldn't form the words, so instead you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. He understood, and slowly pushed into you.
You closed your eyes, the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, overwhelming you. It had been so long since anyone touched you like this, and he was doing it so perfectly.
But sudden fear coursed through you, everything replaying in your mind. All the men who had used you, forced you, made you perform. The vampire who dragged you back into your trauma, took away your control.
Elijah could see the distance in your eyes, the disconnect, and he pulled away, slightly, a concerned look on his face.
"It's okay," he said, his voice soft, "we can stop if you want to,"
You blinked, the memory fading, the realization setting in. Elijah wasn't like those men, he was different, caring, gentle. He made you feel safe in a way that no one else ever had.
You smiled at him, your heart swelling with love and affection. You reached up and cupped his face, gently pulling him towards you, your lips meeting his.
You poured your heart into the kiss, your emotions overwhelming you. He rolled the both of you on your sides, his arms wrapping around you. You clung to him, his name a whisper on your lips.
You felt a tingling building, but this wasn't pleasure, it was something else. A sense of euphoria washed over you, and for a brief moment, your whole being was at peace. You felt safe, loved, treasured. Your heart was whole, the pain and darkness gone, replaced by pure happiness and bliss.
You broke the kiss, your eyes wide as you looked at him, your heart pounding. You had never felt anything like it, never thought it was possible. You had experienced great pleasure, had orgasms that left you breathless, but this was something different, something deeper, something beyond description.
You blinked, reality settling in, your thoughts a tangled mess. You had broken your rules, given yourself to him completely, allowed him to touch the most broken and vulnerable part of you.
Your heart.
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missin' you crazy - Gojo Satoru
gojo satoru x fem.reader
Summary: moments when Gojo misses you and tries to cope with you being away.
Satoru always did everything so that he wouldn't depend on anybody but himself. Growing up, he was given everything, he didn't have to do anything on his own - that shows when he moves into the Jujutsu Tech dorms and he's the only one incapable of doing his own laundry, however, he always preferred being alone for his emotional well-being. He was conditioned into thinking that friends, family, and lovers were only sources of weakness, and the Strongest must not have weaknesses. But people change in high school and that most certainly applies to the prodigy of the Gojo clan as well. Firstly, he befriends his classmate, a dark-haired kid with the ability of Curse Manipulation, Geto Suguru. The two of them click instantly, despite their different upbringings and their clashing personalities. They wreak havoc around campus together, making every teacher and student aware of their immense power and the dominance they have over the entire Jujutsu World. So when you get admitted to the Tokyo branch of the two existing sorcery schools, you are already aware of the potential your upperclassmen have. However, you're not the type to settle, so you challenge yourself to work hard enough to get to their level, and for the first time, Gojo Satoru meets someone he finds to be intimidating. Not only are you determined and hot-headed, but you're also kind-hearted and gentle. Satoru cannot help but blush every single time you ask him about his well-being or every time you bring him souvenirs from your missions from around the world. Gojo finds himself slowly falling in love with you, a big no-no for him, based on the teaching of his clan members. However, he wouldn't be the Strongest if he let anyone but him influence his decisions in life, so he asks you out anyway and is thrilled when you agree, because no matter how arrogant, spoiled, and insufferable you think he is, he also has a big heart and he's sweet, considerate and gentle towards you.
Over time, Satoru learns that you're sent away abroad a lot, given how your cursed technique consists of you being able to speak any language, imbedded with cursed energy that can manipulate humans, curses, sorcerers, and curse users alike. It's a unique and powerful technique that Gojo admires, one that is considered extremely useful around the globe. And with you, his favorite person on the entire planet, being away comes an unbearable amount of suffering - so he says.
The first time you take on a longer mission overseas, it's around three or four months into your relationship. Satoru is being driven back to campus by an auxiliary manager from the airport, where they dropped you off approximately ten minutes ago. His eyes are glued to the display of his overly expensive flip phone, an obnoxious message from you opened, one full of emotes he would usually consider silly, but his heart aches from knowing that this is the last point of contact he would have with you for the next two weeks. The year is 2006 and cell phones are not developed enough to maintain stable connection across the globe, so he knows he won't hear your voice or see your face until you come back to Tokyo. As soon as he arrives back on campus he looks for Shoko and Suguru, maybe they could distract him enough so that he forgets how much he misses you. It's a new feeling for him, it somewhat pisses him off, not one person was important enough for him before that he would experience how missing someone would feel like, but here he is. Miserable.
"You look rough, champ." Shoko teases from the top of the girls' dorm building, where she and Suguru are sharing a cigarette.
"What happened, Satoru? Did they run out of strawberry mochi at the convenience store?" Geto asks curiously. It's not every day that Gojo's smile is wiped from his face or the bounce is missing from his step.
"No, I don't want mochi right now." the white-haired sorcerer sighs dramatically, as he teleports to the roof and sits down beside his friends.
"Oh, something's definitely wrong. You always want mochi..." Shoko exclaims.
"I KNOW WHY HE'S SULKING!" Geto states with a wide smile, trying to contain his laughter "Didn't our beloved kohai, Y/N leave for a long mission today?"
"You're right, Geto, she did!" says Shoko, while Satoru stays quiet, his eyes focused on the ground under him, his long fingers fiddling with a loose thread on his school uniform. "Do you miss her already, Gojo?"
"I guess so... We didn't spend much time apart since we started dating."
"You're smitten, Satoru!" Geto says matter-of-factly and flicks his best friend in the head to annoy him even more.
"Yeah..." the wielder of the Six Eyes agrees and disappears in an instant, teleporting into his dorm room. He hopes that waking up early and running around helping you pack all day tired him out enough so that he could go to sleep straight away, but he's totally wrong: he's been tossing and turning for hours now, unable to sleep, thinking about how you're so far away, possibly still on a flight to get to your exotic destination. He's huffing, dramatically flailing his limbs around as he turns into his back, eyeing the blank, perfectly white ceiling of his dorm. He remembers the fluorescent stars decorating your room, he thinks about how calming they are when it's pitch black outside and there's no other source of light when he wakes up beside you in your bed in the middle of the night. He turns again and suddenly gets a whiff of your sweet perfume and he shoots up, looking around the darkness surrounding him. He spots one of your plushies that he gave to you on your second date, that time you went to an arcade and he promised he would get you any stuffed toy you wanted. His plan miserably failed, but then he used his technique at ring toss, wielding the air around so that he could succeed and got you the stuffed penguin you were eyeing the whole evening. He picks up the toy, bringing it close to his chest as he buries his nose into the soft fur in between his fingers. It smells exactly like you, a mixture of your perfume, your shampoo, and body wash as calmness takes over his tense muscles. Sleep comes easy after that and the next 13 days fly by just like that, he keeps the toy close to his person the whole time, having it around gives him a sense of security, one that he didn't realize existed while he was around you before.
After 14 days you're finally back in his arms, he's at the airport waiting for you, of course, with a bouquet of flowers and an explosive amount of energy. He swoons a bit when he spots you, in one of his expensive, black sweatshirts and he teases you for wearing it, however, you don't mind, you tell him without hesitation that it was the only item that could provide you the comfort to go through your mission without him. He smiles widely, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, but he doesn't mention his newfound attachment to your stuffed penguin.
The second time you leave for nearly a month, Satoru is dealing with a lot. His best friend just recently left Jujutsu High to become a curse user, a murderer (Gojo hates referring to him as one, but it's the truth). You don't want to leave either, it's evident from the endless tears that are running down your face. You want to assure him, that you love him and you'll always come back to him, but the "L word" is not something you've said to each other before and you know talking about feelings is not the Strogest's forte, so you stay silent, trying to express your strong emotions towards him with long embraces, soft, loving kisses and mindful squeezes to his hands. He understands, more than ever, that you're just as committed to this relationship as he is, he knows you're not going to leave him like Suguru and you will never develop insane beliefs that would turn the entire Jujutsu World against you. You're more level-headed than that. So he decides, he's gonna confess to you, he's gonna admit he's irreversibly in love with you, but no words leave his mouth. He doesn't know why, he thinks it's because he recently lost one of the few people he allowed to get close to his heart and he doesn't want to admit something that would make him vulnerable. The real reason though, is that those words have never been spoken by the Strongest for anyone besides his mother. So he spends the whole time you're away contemplating his decision to let you leave without telling you how he really feels, his brain drifts towards the scene at the airport even while fighting a Special Grade curse he would consider amusingly weak on any other day. He doesn't sleep, he overworks himself, but that doesn't affect him as he conditioned his brain into healing itself constantly. However, at one point the tiredness takes over him and he shuffles instinctively towards your dorm room where he falls asleep instantly in between your familiar sheets. That night he dreams of you, he cannot quite recall the details, but he knows he wakes up with a smile on his face and that's the point where he decides he would tell you he loves you the moment he picks you up at the airport. He does exactly that and you say the words back in between tears because you're an emotional mess every time you two get reunited.
The third time, he's already a teacher at Jujutsu Tech and the two of you have your own house inside the school barriers. Satoru spends a lot of time on missions as well and he doesn't like leaving you completely alone, so knowing that you're safe inside Tengen-sama's protection gives him a level of calmness but he never stops worrying for you. However, it's the first time you're leaving him since you moved into your shared home and he suddenly realizes that home does not necessarily mean a place, but a person. The first time he truly felt at home somewhere was in this exact house when the two of you moved in, but without your music softly playing, the smell of your cooking lingering around and your soft hums/giggles it's not the same. When he gets home late from a mission he notices your absence from the couch, your curled up form waiting for him with tired, but happy eyes. The heater setting is the same as he put it on a few days ago, not slightly higher, because you're not around to complain about being cold. He walks towards your shared bedroom with his head hanging low and he looks around the usually comforting space with a lonely sigh. He walks up to your vanity, your jewelry box open, displaying all the beautiful pieces he gifted you over the years. Images of you wearing them run through his mind, the domestic scenario of you asking him to put on your favorite necklace for you in the morning. He always complies, leaving kisses on your neck and collarbones, inhaling your scent that never changed since high school. His eyes drift towards the slim band around his ring finger and he smiles, because you made an oath to return to him every time you leave.
A few days later you're back, as you get older your missions shorten because you finish them in a smaller time frame than expected. You're cool and talented like that. The house fills with your music and the smell of your cooking again, the giggles can be heard as well after Satoru starts tickling your sides while he admires the smile plastered on your face lovingly.
The fourth time, Itadori walks around campus, looking for his teacher. He's late for class and after an intense battle between the three first-year students, it has been decided that Yuji had to be the one to look for Gojo. However, he's caught by Principal Yaga, whose blood instantly boils upon hearing about Satoru's slacking out.
"Follow me, Itadori. I know exactly where that idiot is." the intimidating adult starts walking down the corridor, towards the staff offices. He guides the kid to your office and he opens the door widely. Yuji steps in and he instantly notices his teacher, fast asleep on your couch with a fluffy, pink blanket around him as he embraces your stuffed penguin close to his chest. This has become routine of Satorus over the years, as he slowly learned how to cope with your absence. He knows you spray both the blanket and the stuffie with your perfume before you leave because you know what he's doing every time. You've received numerous pictures of him in this exact state from Shoko over the years and your heart swells with love every time.
"Whoa, whose office is this?" Yuji asks looking around. He admires all the different memorabilia you’ve collected from your travels around the world.
"It belongs to Y/n-san. Gojo loves sleeping in here when she's away." the principal explains, as he tries to shake Gojo awake, but fails miserably because of his infinity.
"That's a bit creepy, isn't it?" the boy asks, not quite understanding the situation.
"Not when she's your wife and you're the clingiest person to ever walk on this earth."
"GOJO-SENSEI HAS A WIFE?" Itadori exclaims in shock, fishing out his phone from his pocket to text Nobara.
"Yeah, the prettiest one as well." they hear from the couch as Gojo gets up and stretches. "I'm sorry for being late to class, I don't get much sleep when..."
"...your pretty girl is out of town, we know Satoru! Now get back to teaching!" Yaga exclaims and Gojo mutters an obnoxious 'scary' into Yuji's ear.
The boy giggles and they both leave towards the classroom they're supposed to be in. As soon as they get there, Nobara bombards them with millions of questions, demanding to see pictures of the 'idiot that tolerates Gojo' and is surprised when Megumi scoffs at her, warning her not to refer to you as an idiot. However, Satoru is glad to show them all his favorite pictures and he tells the kids stories about you, ones that are new to Megumi as well. Gojo Satoru is not alone anymore, on the contrary, he hates being alone. However, over the years he learned how to cope. At least he knows you will always come back to him, no matter what. As long as he's surrounded by your scent, your belongings, Megumi, his other students, and the stuffed penguin is close by, waiting for you to come back is not as hard as he first imagined.
#jjk x reader#gojo imagine#gojo fluff#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jjk imagines#gojo saturo#jjk imagine#jjk gojo
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Was your Kore/Persephone portrayal inspired by dissociative disorders? I interpreted it more as her dark internal monologue that she was suppressing. Like when you have dark thoughts of know things inherently, but try to rationalize your way out of thinking them. I figured it was just a more dramatic way of portraying intrusive thoughts.
Ahh this isn't really a question I can answer with a simple "yes" or "no". Especially when considering everything you just listed are often inherently symptoms of many interlinked mental disorders like DID and BPD haha (especially when it comes to the suppressing).
As I mentioned in my previous post I've been writing these types of characters for years. Uzuki is a big one that comes to mind. I love writing conflicts of the self, mind vs. reality, identity vs. instinct, past vs. present, etc.
CW: BLOOD/GORE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, DEPICTION OF TRAUMATIC BREAKDOWNS AND DISSOCIATION AHEAD!!!
(note the black and grey pages are read right to left like a manga, this was from my weeb days LOL)
It wasn't until years later after I was diagnosed with ADHD and autism that I realized my love for those tropes was rooted in something far more internal. Sure, sometimes a trope is just a trope, but now I fully understand why I've found myself pulled back to that trope time and time again, because I myself have struggled with a lot of the same internal conflicts that characters like Uzuki and Kore have struggled with. It wasn't just me loving a trope, it was me finding solidarity and representation in characters who shared my experiences, even if they were largely hypothetical or for the sake of creative expression.
That realization came long before Rekindled, of course, but it hit me like a sack of bricks when it did, as any realization of an undiagnosed disorder tends to do after years of thinking you're just "broken". That said, it's allowed me to explore these topics with even more nuance and understanding, while also pointing out my own weaknesses and blind spots in the pre-conceived notions I had about myself that I was then able to challenge once I knew what was really going on. It was still challenging as it was so personal, but it ultimately made me a stronger person and a stronger writer.
Skip to the future though with Rekindled, everything I just explained is why I was so interested in LO's AoW plotline to begin with, because a lot of it played to my own interests in those sorts of characterizations - consequently, it was one of the plotlines I wanted to overhaul the most when I started coming up with the basis for Rekindled, as I was disappointed that it was forgotten about over the course of S2 and completely retconned by the trial arc. In a weird way, it almost feels like all the time I spent working with characters like Uzuki was preparing me for a character like Kore/Persephone. And conversely, writing about Kore/Persephone has helped me harness my skills more which I can take back with me when it comes time to continue Uzuki's story.
All that said, mental disorders and neurodiversity were never "inspiration" to me when I was learning how to write and/or designing these characters, but that didn't make them any less intersectional. It was more like something that just came naturally to me as someone who is neurotypical and has diagnosed mental disorders (I am my own worst inspirations LOL) and I wanted more characters like that who weren't just automatically "villains". I try to always treat them with care to ensure that I'm being kind to both the characters as well as myself as someone who heavily relates to these experiences, but I'm also not really afraid to express the more "ugly" sides of those experiences either. Especially with characters like Uzuki who are largely problematic to their core in their actions - much of those actions, as I would learn about myself in my own healing journey as well, are often spurred on by a lack of care, empathy, and understanding in their unique struggles.
There is so much I'd love to say about Kore and Persephone's characterizations and what led them to this point, but I got about a paragraph in before realizing that it would be WAY too massive of a spoiler LOL I'm really, really excited to get into it - though nervous too - but I hope that, at the very least, readers can have patience for her as she goes through everything that's on the horizon. There are times it may get ugly, even outright bleak, but that is simply one side of the coin that represents her duality as a goddess - the dreaded Bringer of Destruction, and the merciful Goddess of Spring.
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