#I have a connection to that game in which I refuse to spend a single dime on it

[lazy-sixteen]

Daniil why would you say that???

Watching Pathologic (classic HD) while on break from suffering in Pathologic 2, and it really struck me how different the first meeting with the Bachelor was in each game.

Pathologic 1, well, only a screenshot can do it justice,

(Yes . . . far be it from me to call myself a person of mystical inclinations. However, when I look at you, I get the feeling that nature is playing jokes on us. It is as if both the left and right hand have clutched the head to realize for the first time they are two parts of a single whole.

>Why?

>I get that feeling too. Does that mean that we are alike?)

That's like the first thing he says to the Haruspex, and while yeah everybody in Pathologic talks like that to a degree, even in game, in character that's a wild thing for Dankovsky specifically to say.

We just spent an entire playthrough as this guy mocking and/or having breakdowns over the existence of the supernatural - especially precognition. And in strolls this 6'2 resting murder-face dude with half-a-medical degree, widely thought to be a serial killer (kinda true), and Dankovsky's like,

"BTW, my heart is telling me we're kinda two halves of the same whole.😊❤️"

Absolutely hilarious. Even funnier is that the Haruspex, grumpy at baseline and currently having the worst day of his life (so far), can agree with him. Great first impression all around!

Then over in Pathologic 2, the Bachelor is high-key fumbling, like fumbling so hard you can get an achievement for it.

Carpetbagger - Remind a colleague of the Hippocratic Oath -- and fail

Not to meme on the guy (who is of course, multi-faceted and at his core deeply altruistic even if he often seems to have trouble expressing that on an individual basis), but initial Pathologic 2 Bachelorencounter is Daniel at his most prickly prick.

He gets Artemy's name wrong (possibly on purpose and definitely twice),

condescendingly demands the Haruspex be his errand boy,

basically calls himself the smartest person in a room of 2,

and can accidentally imply that he left a couple of orphan children to die because he doesn't treat mutts (he actually refused to treat the orphans' dogs).

Yikes - no wonder Artmey spends the first couple of Days taking cheap shots at the guy.

I mean in both Haruspex routes eventually he ends up very friendly with the Bachelor, which makes senses on a thematic level given the some of the Haruspex's major themes/ideals are connection and community. You could say their first meeting was changed to be funnier ("Vorakh") or more in character for the expected tension between two people under a lot of stress who can both be difficult to get along with at baseline

However, what about if we look at it from a meta-narrative level?

While you can play Pathologic 1 as either the Bachelor or the Haruspex on your initial run, it's pretty common knowledge who you are supposed to play first.

"Daniil Danokovsky's Fun Steppe Vacation was just the tutorial for Artemy Burakh's Tormentous Nightmare" - HBomberguy in Pathologic is Genius and Here's Why

This means that the player in Pathologic 1 has already been introduced to Daniil - even if Artmey hasn't - and the game reflects that! You the player know the Bachelor, you've been him, and you probably got really attached after keeping him alive for 12 horrible, horrible days.

Even though you know he can be a bit sanctimonious and dismissive, the player knows he's rational and compassionate and thus already used the evidence at hand to figure out Artemy hasn't killed anybody!

Of course one of the first things you (the player) would want to do as the new protagonist is check on your former avatar, and the game rewards you for it! Talking with the Bachelor on Day 1 as Artemy can raise your reputation - which is super critical. It might be the increase that keeps you from getting hunted in the streets or starving as shops refuse to sell food. What a great first (Second?) impression!!

Daniil's unprompted "hey are we soulmates or is it just me?" line is funny, but meta-narratively it is also true. They are the player's first two avatars, taking turns being puppeted by the same you as protagonists through the same overall story to two opposing conclusions. They are (your) right and left hand. You've played Dankovsky, (you) know this and having previously been the protagonist this new Dankovsky seems to subliminally know this too.

Meanwhile over in Pathologic 2, the only route is the Haruspex - disregarding the Marble Nest (worst day of Dankovsky's life [so far, ad infintuum]) which has enough time fuckery going on that I shall disregard it for this analysis - you can only be Artemy Burakh.

Either under the assumption that the player of Pathologic 2 hasn't played Pathologic 1 or that they've played all of Pathologic 1 including Changeling' Route's extended murder hide and seek between Dankovsky and Burakh, We (the player and Artemy) don't know Daniil when we meet him in Pathologic 2 as anything but the broken man we saw in the depressing into.

Is he our friend this time? Is he our enemy? Whatever he is, he's certainly a sanctimonious prick.

(Today's tragedy won't be the last. I was blessed with a naturally high intelligence, and my observations indicate that a very deadly visitor has come to this god-forsaken town. That's all I can say for now.

>...I don't like you, Bachelor Whatever.)

In Pathologic 2, both the player and Artmey meet Daniil Dankovsky at at his worst, and slowly work-up from there because both of us are meeting, getting to know, and building a relationship with him for the first time.

This is actually parallel to how you first meet the Haruspex in Pathologic 1 as the Bachelor!

If you are playing in the intended order, both the player and Daniil don't know anything about Artmey besides the serial killer rumors, and likewise you meet him at his worst - (in prison and later he murders a young woman to get Daniil the infected heart he needs to try and develop a vaccine). Much like we see the worst of Daniil's classism, arrogance, and inability to connect beyond quid pro quo (hehe, latin) in our Patho2 intro; in Patho1 we initially only see Artemy's standoffishness, brutality, and stubbornness.

Interestingly, following Daniil's themes/ideals of transcendence and rationality we (the player and Daniil) don't actually end up connecting much with Artmey on the Bachelor's route. The player is influenced by the puppet, and why would Dr. Daniil Dankovsky - whose route is plagued by betrayal, manipulation, and the difficulty of connecting to even people who do selflessly care for him (like Eva) - make friends with a violent, possibly dangerous guy who practices a sort of medicine Dankovsky doesn't believe in?

(I couldn't find a good screenshot for this, but mentally insert a picture of Artemy doing a roadside dissection)

Basically if Daniil is the player's protagonist he won't reach out, because in-character why would he?

If Artemy is the player's protagonist, Daniil will try to be friends in Patho1 (because of the player's previous actions affecting both avatars) or in Patho2 Artmey will eventually connect with him because that's in-character for him.

Overall, I suppose this means that Danii's instant and uncharacteristic buddy-buddy attitude with Artemy on the Haruspex route Patho1 is completely justified from a meta-textually narrative, as is his horrific fumbling in Patho2.

And it is also very, very funny.

[drabbles-by-branwen]

Jim didn't get himself. Romantically he was only attracted to men, but every time he'd try to get physical he was unable to do so. Physically women he had no trouble with, but he couldn't form any romantic connections with one. He tried, he tried so damn hard to find someone who he could have the connection he desperately craved. He refused to lead people on, to get their hopes up and be unable to be who or what they needed. He was just lonely, so damn lonely.

He flirted, and acted a good game, and wished he was normal and could have a real relationship, but something inside was broken.

The first few months at the academy he developed a reputation of hopping from bed to bed, and hated every single second of it. He just wanted someone who was his, someone he was capable of both loving and wanting physically, and the constant attempts to find his person drained him.

His roommate didn't know what he was going through, he'd hidden what he was doing and feeling with jokes and half-flirty words and just plain avoiding him on days that Bones was too observant for his liking.

There was always this tingling sensation ever since he arrived at the Academy. It wasn't unpleasant, in fact it made him feel great, but he had no idea what was causing the sensation. He tried to ignore the feeling, as well as the whispers about him that were running rampant across campus. He'd be dead of dehydration and starvation if he was as "active" as the rumors stated.

He'd started spending most of his time in a quiet corner of the library, not wanting to risk his heart any more than he already had. He was tired and lonely and feeling isolated, but no one understood what he was going through, how could they when he didn't even understand it himself.

There was someone sitting in his usual place when he arrived that day, the tingling almost painful with its intensity. The man was a professor, as his uniform showed, but he didn't seem that much older than him. Jim turned to leave, not wanting to confront the person who stole "his" spot, deciding to just go back to his dorm and Bones' questions, something Jim was trying to avoid.

"Don't leave," the man said in a voice that sent chills down his body and a surge of arousal to settle at his groin. "You feel it also, don't you. The bond begging for completion, like little shocks of electricity coursing over your body."

"How..."

"You came to the Academy six months ago."

Jim nodded silently.

"It started as soon as you arrived, didn't it?"

"How can you know that? I've never told anyone about it. Especially not my roommate, he's a great guy but give him a vaguely medical mystery and he's all over it."

"Because I felt it as soon as you arrived. I have been attempting to locate you the whole time. But since I don't know your name, it's been difficult."

"Jim, my name is James Kirk, but my friends call me Jim."

"Jim," the name was whispered in a breathy purr that almost made Jim moan. He was standing, and in Jim's personal space in seconds, "My name is Spock."

Jim shuddered, his pulse racing, "Are you the reason? Are you why I'm so broken?"

Lips brushed against his ear, "You're not broken, Jim. Your mind and body were keeping you... keeping you from bonding with someone else."

"Why?" Jim gasped, closing his eyes in pleasure and slight embarrassment at the way his own voice sounded.

"Because you are mine. As I've been yours, for almost my entire life. I've been searching for you since I was three years old."

"How old..."

"I'll be 26 in another day. Twenty-three years of looking and I have finally found you."

Jim didn't know what to think, his body was overwhelmed with pleasure and contentment and relief at finally understanding just what his issue was. He felt a sense of arousal unlike anything he'd felt before, and the sense of home he'd never felt. Spock was barely touching him, the only skin contact his lips which still brushed his ear. Spock's hands ran down the sleeves of Jim's uniform, stopping just before reaching his hands.

"Why me?" Jim asked, needing answers.

"I don't know, Jim, all I know is that you are it for me. The only being in the galaxy who completes me," his hands finally touched Jim's, and they both gasped at the rush of emotions that raced back and forth between them, "and I am the only one who can complete you. You can feel that, can't you?"

Jim closed his eyes, overwhelmed by sensations and emotions. He gasped as Spock's fingers trailed over his own, and his knees almost gave out as he was struck by an orgasm out of nowhere. He panted loudly, body shaking as pleasure coursed through his veins, only staying on his feet because Spock was holding him upright, and he could tell that Spock was in the same condition as he was by the way his body trembled against Jim's back, the way his breathing had changed.

"This isn't the best place... I mean anyone could walk in and see us like this."

Spock nuzzled his neck, "I know, but I don't want to let you go. I finally have you in my arms and I am loath to let you go, even to find somewhere more private."

Jim would have answered, but the door opened, and a very annoyed looking Bones walked in, whatever complaint he had for Jim dying on his lips as he saw their embrace.

"Figured it out, did you?" he asked, giving Jim a pointed look. "With how twitchy you've been I figured it was a case of accidental bonding."

"You knew? You could have said something sooner. I could have... I don't know, I could have asked Captain Pike to have a Vulcan check me out, to try and figure out what was going on."

"Jim, I thought you... At first I thought you were a widower, that you'd lost your bondmate. But over time I figured out that you didn't even realize that you were bonded. How the hell was I supposed to broach that topic? You refuse to talk."

"He didn't know. How could he, Dr.," Spock asked, "as we've been bonded practically our entire lives. He's never known anything else." He gave a soft kiss to the side of Jim's neck, "And I was only days before my third birthday when it happened, so it wasn't my fault."

"Bones, just... Spock and I need to talk, to figure out what we're going to do. Let's just call this a belated birthday present, and you and I can talk later."

Bones nodded, stepping towards the door, but paused before he reached it, "When exactly is your birthday?"

"Tomorrow," Spock answered distractedly, most of his attention still on Jim.

"Two days after Jim's. How long before your third birthday did you... did you notice the bond?"

"Two days..."

Jim's eyes widened in realization, "We bonded when I was born. How can that happen?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out together."

Jim nodded slowly, then took Spock's hand in his own, "But right now..."

"We should go to my apartment. It's closer and... private."

They walked away, both lost in each other, and for the first time since he'd met Jim Bones knew the kid was going to be okay.

[browneyesandhair]

Non-Exhaustive List of Soulmate Fics: Klaroline Pt 2

Okay, I'm bored so I'm compiling my favorite soulmate fics. Here's the Klaroline edition:

All I Need by emeraldvixen

Summary:

In which I vaguely follow TVD canon and write the soulmate/werewolf mating AU which absolutely no one asked for. OR The one in which Klaus finds his soulmate, gets bitten, hides his mating mark from her and waits for the day she'll let him give her one back. Fluffy, mildly angsty slow burn with possible super hot hybrid smut in later chapters. *Nominated for a KC Award in the Best Smut Multi-Chapter category*

With Roses in my Hands by emeraldvixen

Summary:

Soulmate AU inspired by a Tumblr post, in which anything you paint on your skin appears on your soulmates skin too. I believe the original poster is let-gavin-free. Winner of the 2020 KC Award in the Best AU supernatural one-shot category.

Entanglement by sunshineandfangs (Avana)

Summary:

Soulmates were a complicated phenomenon that no one quite understood, as neither science nor magic nor ambitious combinations of the two could definitively explain how the connection worked. But for the most part, people were happy to have soulmates: platonic, romantic, multiple, or otherwise. Then there were the exceptions... Unfortunately, Caroline Forbes had one Niklaus Mikaelson as her soulmate, and no amount of advanced warning could really prepare her. Unfortunately for Niklaus Mikaelson, no one saw fit to warn him of the force of nature that was his soulmate.

Jar of Hearts by Cupcakemolotov

Summary:

In a society where vampire allegiance is worn openly on their skin, Caroline Forbes is anomaly. She woke from transition marked by a single triangle. For six decades, she's hidden the truth of her allegiance, refusing to abandon what family she has left. Klaus Mikaelson's sudden appearance in Chicago bodes well for no one. For Klaus has spent five hundred years burying the truth of his curse, given as bloody vengeance for the death of Katerina. Klaus has a soulmate.

A Thousand Years and then Some by slstmaraudersjple

Summary:

"C'mon love, what's a little murder between soulmates?" Klaus discovers his soulmate as he kills her. Unbeknownst to him, she dies with vampire blood in her system and returns as a vampire. Unfortunately for him, she leaves Mystic Falls and spends the next couple centuries running from him. Never let it be said that they weren't stubborn. One-shot. Or, in which the Caroline and Klaus discover that they are soulmates when Klaus kills her, and a displeased newly born baby vampire spends the next couple centuries running from him and his family while living in denial. But the Mikaelsons play the long game, and they play for keeps… and that includes Caroline. Klaroline featuring the Mikaelson siblings (no Freya).

No Rest for the Wicked by Cupcakemolotov

Summary:

When Bonnie goes missing, Caroline returns to New York City in the hope that she can find her before their past catches up. But New York's supernatural underbelly is ruled by the unforgiving Mikaelson Syndicate. With nightmares awaiting around every corner, complications arise when a simple one night stand changes everything.

Burn For Me by Cupcakemolotov

Summary:

Ambassador Caroline Forbes is returning home to take up the mantle as Princess and to marry her betrothed, Tyler Lockwood. But a rest stop quickly becomes a problem, as she finds herself dealing with not only dragon claiming magic, but the dragon.

Standing Outside of Heaven by Cupcakemolotov

Summary:

When Caroline Forbes is sixteen, she's cursed by a demon. Forced to flee from her coven, she learns that not all curses are what they appear, and that demons can take many forms. Including the shape of her soul mate.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Opinions

Sometimes the comments on any gaming-related YouTube video are just ugly. Other times ... they remind me of dinner with the parentals. When I say that, I mean that people take their position on a topic and make it the hill they're going to die on so much that anyone who holds a different opinion is worthy only of insults and derision. For some things, I can agree with that - mostly ones that involve intolerance to others (something something can't be tolerant if you tolerate intolerance). But some of this is just stupid.

I was watching a Yong Yea video regarding the Switch 2. News on this particular console is slow because Nintendo refused to send out review copies before launch - something about "there are patches that need to be sent out on Day 1 for the full functionality", which is really weird to me, but okay. The thing Yong was bringing up was something about which there'd been serious discourse with the original Switch - JoyCon Drift. Apparently the way they build their little wiggly joysticks is such that there's a lot of wear and tear and the possibility of debris getting in it, and all of that obviously affects the connectivity and tells your little avatar on the screen that something's touching the sensor in a way that was not intended by the user, and thus makes the little avatar move in a way that was not intended by the user. Which sucks when you're trying to play a game that requires any amount of precision. So he did some research, after Nintendo promised that they "rebuilt the JoyCon from the ground up" but never actually mentioned getting rid of the drift issue, and turns out that the rebuild uses the exact same drift-prone technology as the originals. Yes, you can get your JoyCons replaced for free, but only in some areas and it takes up to fourteen business days, plus some people just never got their free replacements for whatever reason. This means that a lot of people just don't bother and shell out for new JoyCons - which for the Switch 2 cost nearly $100 USD. So obviously that's a black mark on what is apparently otherwise a pretty good bit of hardware.

The comments, however, have a whole bunch of people going, "You're shitting all over it when you actually bought it, you sheep". Which ... what?!?

Yong Yea is a games journalist. If Nintendo won't send him a review copy, what choice has he got? Do these people really expect him or any other games journalist to wall off an entire section of gaming news for the sake of this one principle? Games journalists get hold of this stuff so that the average member of the public doesn't have to.

I am well aware that there are two kinds of games journalists - the ones who work with the big gaming news sites, and the indies. I honestly prefer the indies. They don't have to be as careful not to offend the gaming companies that control the free review copies. That they're willing to shell out for copies of games - or hardware, in this case - to review them because they don't want to be beholden to one of the big names is laudable, as far as I'm concerned. So I'm obviously not going to shit all over them for spending their money on something they need for their job.

(Also there's the fact that the more I read of gaming news on those sites, the more concerned I am that they're written with ChatGPT. Even if they're not, I applied to be a writer at one of those and the clickbaity vibe they wanted on every single piece felt like a slap in the face for actual journalism.)

I just don't understand why it's necessary to insult a man for buying what he needs to do his job, just because he wasn't 100% ravingly complimentary about it. Like, Yong admitted that the hardware was by and large good - he just flagged up the planned obsolescence that plagues the machine same as it plagued the original Switch, and honestly plagues damn near everything else technological we buy these days. That doesn't make him a sheep - that makes him diligent at his job.

I'm kind of glad I didn't read the comments on the Jimquisition episode about the Switch 2. I bet it's the same but worse over there. ...And being me, and being thorough, I'm probably going to have to now, because I dislike expressing an opinion about something that I have no direct experience with.

.........Which is the whole point of what I'm saying, honestly! I mean, I'm the one who read all four Twilight books because I refused to shit all over it without firsthand knowledge of it! Library copies, thank goodness; at least in part because it prevented me - and my now-ex, who did try to hack through Twilight but got frustrated after four pages - from tossing the fucking thing out a window. There are going to be games that only come out on the Switch 2. There's backwards compatibility to test. There's how something like, say, Cyberpunk 2077 plays on the Switch 2. If Yong or anyone else wants an opinion on that, they need to get it firsthand, or they're frankly hacks. I like that they're willing to spend money to do their jobs properly and not be hacks. But some people are so high up on their high horses about not buying the damn things that apparently "buying equipment I need to do my job properly" equals "being a sheep".

I do not understand people at all. Have they not heard of business expenses? It's just that independents don't have a company they can turn to and claim these purchases on expenses, the way I did with my new monitor so I didn't have to squint at a laptop screen to do my WFH job.

[thegleamingmoon]

Beautiful Reality

A certain kind of comfort seemed to fill the soul of Arulmozhi as memories flooded his mind. He felt ecstatic to be back in the lush gardens of Thirunallam.

It was that naturally magical place that will always remain close to his heart.

As did his beloved queen. Vaanathi.

Which reminded him that he sought for her beloved at this moment while she seemed to play a game of hide and seek with him for the past few days or so he thought.

And here he had come searching for her,after being told by his elder sister about her whereabouts,only after much teasing.

“Oh Vennila” Arulmozhi whispered inaudibly, beholding his radiant moon who danced and twirled as the birds sang and chirped and the animals admired her.

She calmed his heart with her cool,silvery rays at the warm hours of the afternoon even as she made it skip a beat.

“Azhage!”

Arulmozhi ,making her aware of his presence as she stopped in her tracks, his loving voice making her nervous and shy all over again.

“Ilavarasae,what brings you here?”

“You don't understand, Vaanathi. Now,do you? ” Arulmozhi muttered, his strong voice more heavy with desperation and dripping with a passion that confused her.

“Pardon. What happened to you,thevare?” Vaanathi asked as she took a step back, unable to handle the scorching gaze of the prince standing very close to her.

“Don't you think we've been betrothed to each other for too long,dear?”

“That is true,thevare! But, aren't we getting married after 2 weeks?”

“Oh my beloved Vaanathi! This wait seems to be killing me.” He walked forward, closer to her as she kept stepping backwards only to realize that she was now standing at the edge of the pond and was about to lose her balance if Arulmozhi had not caught hold of her in time.

Gently carrying her to a tree,he made her rest in the shadows,adoring the love and the innocently mischievous enigma her ocean-like eyes possessed.

“Swami,someone will come–!”

“Shhh” He signaled her to calm down as he began to pour his feelings into words.

“To hear your sweet voice,to see your beautiful face every single day. To talk to you endlessly. Oh beloved,to adore you,to worship you is all this heart yearns for”

“Kannalane,to spend a lifetime with you is a dream come true.” Vaanathi declared with love and hope brimming in her soul.

Admiring the devotion in her eyes which was also mirrored in his he moved closer,cupping her face. His eyes asked her for a certain permission to move forward.

As Vaanathi blinked her eyes in approval he took her lips in a searing kiss expressing their passion through it.

They broke the kiss after what seemed like an eternity of sheer bliss,as a shy Vaanathi refused to look at the prince. Smiling and blushing all the way.

The loving and now emboldened prince made her look at him by placing a finger on her chin. Caressing her crimsoned cheeks he connected their foreheads together.

“Not a dream anymore. Yes?” The gleeful prince asked.

“It is. A beautiful reality,Mannava” The princess replied blithely.

A beautiful reality it was indeed.

****

*blush* Something up after a loooong time..! I don't know if the hype for these kinda fics still exist at this point but anyways,it feels good to be back in action. This is something which emerged after a convo with @harinishivaa a long time back.

Also,a SenKuzhali os is coming up soon. I have been working on it for quiet some time now so I hope it doesn't disappoint. Before that,I will catch up with all the unread write-ups in my notifs very soon.

Mentions: @yehsahihai @harinishivaa @thelekhikawrites @vibishalakshman @sakhiiii @ramayantika @rang-lo @reeeereeeereeereee @thirst4light @nspwriteups @willkatfanfromasia @whippersnappersbookworm @dr-scribbler

[comshipbracket]

Antis DNI

Remember, you are voting for the ship you prefer, not the ship you find more problematic

Propaganda for both ships under the cut.

Velphi Propaganda (Pseudo-Incest - Laphicet is the reincarnation of Velvet's unborn nephew, Age Gap - Laphicet is 10 while Velvet is 19, MinorxAdult, Possible Abusive Dynamic - Velvet initially not quite treating him as a person, and then proceeding to treat him as a replacement for her dead brother. She also pulls Laphicet's hair when angry and doesn't apologise for it)

"Their character arcs are inseparably intertwined. The two of them push each other to be People (Laphicet gaining individuality after spending most of his life a partially brainwashed Literal Slave, and Velvet remembering that Positive Emotions Exist after being traumatized and then immediately spending 3 years in solitary confinement).. At first their dynamic is genuinely terrible (at least for Laphicet); Velvet starts out barely seeing him as a person, and when she does start to see him as a person, the person she's seeing is her dead brother. But as the two of them grow, Laphicet gets more assertive and Velvet starts to see him as himself."

"Anyways, have a transcription of one of their best scenes: `No, I don't 'understand'! You snap at people! You're scary! You--You tried to eat me! But… you're also kind… and you're filled with life! I don't understand a single thing about you! But you gave me a name, when I was a number! You gave me that compass! You taught me what it meant to be alive! That's why I care about you, Velvet! I'll protect you for my own sake! I don't care if you're malevolent! Or if it was pointless! If the world says it's a mistake to love you, I'll fight the whole world! I don't care HOW much pain you feel! It doesn't matter! A world without you, Velvet… is the one thing I couldn't bear!`"

"Additionally! The big scene the night before you head into the final dungeon is Laphicet combing Velvet's hair while they talk about the future, and for a bit they pretend everything's going to work out fine and plan out a life together. (video!!! https://youtu.be/golhLiuq78g?feature=shared&t=3273 )"

"Their last scene together is Laphicet telling Velvet he loves her, and Velvet agreeing and making him promise her that he'll live out the rest of his life to the fullest."

"LESS SERIOUSLY

Velvet uses a really gentle tone of voice when she talks to Laphicet that she never uses for anyone else.

Laphicet gets teased by another party member about being motivated by caring about Velvet and he just blushes and agrees

The hot springs sidequest ends up being a bodyswap plot, and the two of them ended up briefly swapping bodies (while naked). Afterwards, Velvet teasingly asks him if he peeked.and he truthfully says he covered his eyes the whole time, to which velvet just goes :I didn't :)" -- Velvet also invited Laphicet to bathe with her at a different point in the game, but he was too flustered and refused

In Rays (a crossover game), the two of them try to live together in peace before the plot ruins it" -- After the end of the initial story of Rays they do manage to live together peacefully, and the game won't stop reminding us of it in event stories"

MakoYuma Propaganda (Selfcest, Cannibalisation, Questionable Dynamic)

"Makoto and Yuma are the same coin, just different sides. Different paths. Makoto continued isolating himself, Yuma opened up and let himself risk being hurt in order to make connections with people. Makoto turned his back on the truth, Yuma fought to expose it. Also, Makoto is simply Yuma's flesh-eating homunculus clone. So they're literally the same person, genetically."

[luvsdive]

pairing: painslut!karina x dom!reader (5th member!reader)

summary: karina feels like your attention has been on other people for far too long, and she needs to do something to change that.

warnings: subby sub karina, maknae reader who lowkey fucks half the 4th generation girlies, jealous unnie that wants your attention on her all the time, nipple clamps, nipple torture, crying, lots of slapping and flicking and pinching, cumming untouched but not really, pussy slapping, but very little of it.

the dorm was completely silent when you first got home, which wasn’t unusual during the handful of days off you’d gotten in the years since your debut. since you spent so much of your time together when you were on schedule, most of the members preferred to spend their free time doing individual things, visiting friends, working on their hobbies, or hibernating for three days straight, on some instances.

this had been the longest break the group had gotten since your debut, and you’d enjoyed the freedom to spend some quality time with friends you’d made since moving to seoul, hanging out with idols from other groups you’d only managed to have quick small talk with whenever you caught each other backstage on music shows or awards ceremonies, and while you’d thoroughly enjoyed the time you spent with friends and colleagues, it had been a couple of days since you’d seen your unnies, since everyone had been so busy with their own things, and you were starting to miss them a lot.

you pouted in deep thought as you walked towards your room, maknae privileges meaning you’d been awarded with the one single bedroom in the apartment, thinking about how you should probably shoot the aespa group chat a message and suggest a hangout soon enough, when you first laid eyes onto karina.

she was kneeling on the carpet, holding her hands behind her back demurely, dark hair falling straight down but pushed away from her face, and completely naked, voluptuous tits moving with her rapid breathing, nipples clamped up and connected by a metal chain that moved with her agitated breaths.  

you've always loved unnie’s tits. they were probably the first physical attributes of hers that you noticed when you first met each other, and when you realized that they were also extremely sensitive, that she loved having the perky nipples teased and tormented like the good little painslut she was, it was a matter of time before you used that to your advantage.

still, finding jimin unnie naked, kneeling on your fluffy carpet, with her nipples clamped up to high heaven was nowhere near what you expected to find when you walked into your bedroom, so you had to carefully school your features in an effort to not show her just how surprised you really were with her surprise, eyes narrowing instead, an ominous hum as you decided to play whatever game she was trying to start.

"what's up, unnie?" you asked, little smirk twisting your lips as you closed the door behind you and walked fully into the room. you dropped your bag on the floor and started working on removing your outer layer of clothing as you waited for her response. hat, mask, and scarf being discarded quietly, while you refused to give her any other type of attention until you had her answer.

“i missed you.” she replied, voice whiny and high pitched as you finally looked at her for a quiet second before making your way towards her kneeling form. “yeji told me she saw you with ryujin. and i know you went to see chaewon a couple days ago. why do you give them all attention, but you don’t even look for me? i’ve been waiting for days for you!” she started to stand up, ready to argue her point, but the attempt was immediately thwarted by your confident tug on the chain connecting the nipple clamps, words turning into a shriek, body falling back down to the carpet with a thud as you guided the chain back downwards.

“unnie, why are you like this, huh? i go out to meet a few friends after not seeing them for ages and this is how you greet me? that’s so rude of you.” you complain, watching her heavy breaths and teary eyes, nipples pressed tightly between the metal of the clamps as she stared up at you. “was this what you wanted? to be a meanie slut to me as soon as i got home and annoy me?” you frowned, crouching down to look at her, a hand still gripping the chain firmly, but otherwise not tugging on the metal. karina’s teary eyes widened at your statement, and her mouth opened as she searched for a reply.

“i… um…” she started, but you once again interrupted her with a harsh slap to the side of her breast, the flesh rippling as you rose to your full height, pulling her upwards carelessly by the tight grip on the chains. her mouth dropped open with a scream, legs wobbly as she scrambled to her feet, desperately trying to relieve the pressure in her nipples. you gave her no response other than harshly tugging the metallic material up until she was holding the links in her own mouth, tears freely dropping from her eyes at that point, but still doing her best for you.

“keep it in your mouth, you won’t like what will happen to you if you drop it.” you ordered, stepping away from her to remove the rest of your clothes. unnie tried her best to keep her lips closed tight around the chain, but also discretely lowered her jaw to try and relieve some of the tugging on her nipples. you tsked in disapproval, but kept shimmying your way out of your hoodie and sweatpants, not paying her any extra mind as you heard her shaky exhales and watched her legs tremble.

once your body was as nude as karina’s, you walked towards her once again, close enough that you could feel the cold metal of the clamps pressed against your own breasts, earning a hiss out of the older girl, who gritted her teeth but kept the linked chain firmly stuck in her mouth. you used your thumb and index finger to take her chin, pulling her face upwards enough for karina to let out a loud whimper, nipples being stretched beyond comfort as she looked towards the ceiling.

“was this what you wanted, unnie? for me to make it hurt?” you asked, taking a step back and flicking the metal clamp on the right nipple. unnie screamed, the chain falling from her mouth as her legs buckled underneath her. you took a hold of her body, tiny and so malleable at this point, and guided her towards the bed with little effort. she fell back on the mattress with a loud whimper, tits bouncing with the sudden movement, but gave you no other response other than a teary-eyed stare and some dry sobs. you climbed into the bed quickly after her, settling on your knees next to her stomach for a second before giving her a gentle slap on her cheek, already tear stained and now reasonably redder due to the impact. she made no move to stop you, choosing simply to close her eyes and enjoy the painful moment.

once you got yourself settled on your knees next to unnie’s laying, panting form, you pursued your lips in appreciation of her figure, a hand reaching towards her nude body to run over her skin, so smooth and shiny with sweat by now. you started from her neck, deciding to give her abused breasts a break for the moment and skipping down to her stomach, digits dusting over skin and taut muscle. her breath was still a little agitated, but she was trying her best to get herself under control, an attempt immediately thwarted by the hand that glided down and down her body until it reached the apex between her thighs, a middle finger dipping into her folds as she spread her legs open for you with a moan.

"oh, you're so wet." you chuckled, middle finger rubbing her clit slowly before dipping into her warm, wet entrance up to your knuckles, watching karina's face as she struggled to keep her eyes focused on you, going a little cross-eyed with her effort. you pulled your finger away after a few teasing moments, guiding your digits towards her lips and nodding for her to take them into her mouth. "you're such a needy slut, aren't you, unnie? all hot and bothered by having your tits smacked around." you grinned, pressing your fingers deeper into her mouth, pushing down on her tongue and feeling her throat spasm around you as she tried to nod her agreement. "should i make you cum, then? give you some of that attention you want so bad?" you asked, taking your finger out of her mouth once she'd cleaned it thoroughly and gagged around it enough.

"please." she whined breathlessly, arching her back and puffing her chest out. there were already some red marks on her breasts, her nipples seemed uncomfortably swollen, but you knew how unnie got off on pain, especially when it came to her tits, and decided to give her what she so clearly wanted, tugging once again on the chain that linked the two metal clamps together. she hissed, trying her best to stay still, but it wasn’t the reaction you were looking for, choosing instead to give her breasts a series of slaps, watching in glee as they bounced with impact and her whole body twitched with pain.

you leaned down towards karina's chest, not giving her a moment to rest or gather herself, before taking a firm hold of the clamp pressuring her left nipple and pulling it out by the chain instead of pressing it open, the metal clip dragging heavily against her pebbled flesh as the older girl screamed, feeling like the sensitive skin of her nipple was being torn apart. it was painful enough for her to freely start crying, actual sobs wrecking her frame as her body twisted in agony, but also arousal. the almost unbearable pain brought forth a new wave of pleasure, and karina rubbed her thighs together, desperately searching for the littlest amount of friction that would drive her to her orgasm.

you watched her struggle for a few moments, a fond smile twisting your lips as your finger reached down to massage the abused nipple. it was a little swollen and turning bright red, and you knew unnie would feel the hurt for a few days, exactly how she liked it. you rubbed the peaked flesh for a few seconds, cooing at her tears and wet sniffled sobs, before laying a heavy slap on the reddening skin once again. she sucked in a sharp breath, but pretty much anything felt heavenly after the sweet torment that had been caused by the ripping off the clamp.

she was getting pretty close to her orgasm already, you could hear it in the pitch of her pained moans and whimpers, see it in the way her thighs rubbed together, in search of friction, in how tightly she had your bedsheets gripped in her hands, fists clenched on the sheets so tight that her knuckles looked white, and decided to give her some mercy, leaning down to take her recently freed nipple in your mouth, while your digits turned their attention towards the peak that was still tightly clenched between the metal clamp.

karina’s mouth dropped open silently, the feeling of your warm, wet tongue so gently running over her sore and abused flesh, while your fingers continued to tease and pull on the metal that still tormented her other nipple, were overwhelming to her already sensitive nerve receptors, eyes closing as her hips stuttered, searching for any type of friction that was nonexistent up to this point. you bit her, teeth lightly gnashing on the skin you’d been only licking and sucking so far, and it was enough for karina to lose the little bit of control she had left.

“oh, oh.” she moaned, a keening wail as she arched her back, pressing her tits towards your face as her breath stuttered irregularly, you took advantage of her vulnerable state, pulling the remaining clamp just as you’d done a few minutes previously, karina’s moan turning into a shrieked scream, eyes rolling to the back of her head as her body unconsciously tried to curl inwards, being swiftly stopped by your own hands. “oh my god. oh my god! please, please please please!” she cried out, loud enough that a tiny part of you hoped the members were out of the dorms, even though you really loved it when unnie was loud.

“what, unnie? you’re going to cum already? all it takes is some pain, huh? and unnie is ready to beg like a little whore?” you rambled, aware that she was in no mind state to give you a proper answer, but chuckling at her nearly hysteric responses as you pinched and slapped and pulled at her abused nipples, hard and fast enough to drive her over the edge and into a loud, shaking orgasm.

karina’s whole body trembled, mouth dropping open in a scream as she shook her head from side to side, hair mussing and tangling against the cotton bedsheets. you gave her no respite, however, leaving her breasts alone for the moment, but choosing to torment her pussy, wet enough to make a mess on her thighs, yet unattended so far. she was still in the middle of her orgasm when you smacked her pussy heavily, earning an especially loud shriek out of your unnie as clear liquid gushed out of her in a streaming jet.

“thank you, thank you, thank you.” she cried, whole body twitching as you smacked her a few more times, giggling at her torment and stopping her as she tried to twist her body away from you.

“where are you going, unnie? didn’t you ask for this? now be a good little painslut and take it.”

[cafedanslanuit]

- ̗̀ boy, you write your name, i can do the same ̖́-

day twenty-three humiliation ft. porco galliard [shingeki no kyojin]

☄  tags/warnings: +18, afab reader + she/her pronouns, college/university au, humiliation (verbal), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral sex (m and f receiving), established couple, football player porco galliard <3333

☄  words: 1.8k

☄  a/n: god knows i've had this idea since the copa américa in july... hope y'all like it <3 tagging @bokebelle because football player porco hits different ~

☄  masterlist

The first moment you set your eyes on Porco Galliard, striker of the Marley University Football Team, you knew you were done for. You caught him smirking at you for a brief second before you looked away, pretending to be interested in whatever Reiner was talking about. As you tried your best to hide the smile on your face, you couldn't stop thinking how utterly good-looking he was. Was he single? Would Reiner tell you if you asked? Were you really planning to make a move on someone from Marley?

Months ago, you wouldn’t have believed if anyone told you you’d be seen at a barbeque hosted by the rival team of your university. However, after befriending Reiner during the semester he played for your team, you had agreed to join him after he assured you you’d have a good time.

Now, Reiner probably didn’t anticipate Porco and you would have an instant connection, and that after that first look he'd approach you two and start a conversation with you. You didn't even notice Reiner excusing himself as you and Porco kept talking, flirty bantering your main language as everyone seemed to disappear around you. Before you left the house party, he made sure to get your number― it wasn't long before you were officially dating.

Porco was charming, fun, and so incredibly good-looking. And best of all, he didn’t attend your university, which gave you both lots of free time on your own. Whenever you went out on a date or he crashed at your place, you were really itching to spend time together, rather than getting used to seeing each other every day at the campus. Your friends could tell you two got along exceedingly well, the honeymoon phase never seeming to end as both of you had this dreamy smile on your lips every time the other was around.

It all changed once the football championship started.

Porco knew it was stupid, but there was something about seeing you using Shiganishina’s football jersey during his matches that really struck a nerve. He had offered you one of his spare jerseys, yet you had refused. You were committed to cheering for your university to the very end, both in their games against Marley and in their games with other teams. Porco didn’t understand why you even bothered attending Marley’s games if you were so adamant about wearing that stupid jersey.

Marley and Shiganshina were set to clash twice, and the results of both games were going to determine who went to the next stage. After losing the first game 2-1, Porco sat on your bed and watched you happily singing to yourself your team’s chant as you took off your makeup, a giddy smile on your lips. He was crazy about you, he truly was. But never before had he wanted more to throw a pillow at you.

“Aw, quit that sour look, babe. Not my fault our team’s better,” you teased him, walking back to your bed and straddling him.

Porco arched an eyebrow. “We’re still in the quarter-finals. You guys haven’t advanced to the semifinals yet. And both of us know that 2-1 was mere luck.”

“Aww,” you cooed, pinching his nose. He swatted your hand away. “That’s what a loser would say. But don’t worry, I still love you anyway.”

You pushed him on the bed, a cheeky grin on your face before you removed your top. As you were leaning down to kiss him, your boyfriend grabbed your chin with his hand, stopping you just mere centimetres away with his lips.

“When we win, I’m going to wreck you,” Porco warned you. An easy laugh escaped from your mouth.

“I’d like to see you try.”

In retrospect, you set yourself up.

You still remember Porco’s obnoxious smirk as he pointed at you as he scored his third goal in the game, achieving the first hat-trick of the season. While losing the match was always a possibility you surely didn’t expect to lose 5-0. Neither did you expect your boyfriend to ask you to keep your jersey on as he took the rest of your clothes off back at his place.

“Hm, I may have made a mistake before. You do look pretty in that awful jersey.”

Porco’s words sent a bolt of pleasure between your legs as he sheathed his cock deep inside you. He loved every desperate whine that fell from your lips, and how you were obediently holding the back of your knees, pressing your thighs against your chest. It filled him with an absurd amount of pride to see your face twisted in pleasure, wearing the losing’s team jersey and taking his cock so well.

He watched in awe how much you were gushing around him, how wet his cock looked every time he pulled it almost all the way out before thrusting back inside. Your high-pitched cries as you asked for more were the most perfect thing he had ever heard, paired with the way your pussy was almost sucking him back in every time he bottomed out inside of you.

“Fuck, babe,” he grunted, kneeling on the bed and pressing his hands on the back of your thighs. “Feel so good around my cock. Like you were made for me,” he snorted.

“Yes― I, I was. I was― made for you― made for your cock, Pock,” you whimpered, feeling him bury himself even deeper inside. “Just for you, only for you.”

Porco took a second look at your face, swollen lips parted as you let out the most desperate moans he had ever heard and glassy eyes looking up at him in adoration. You had truly surrendered to him, all while wearing that stupid Shiganshina jersey. Long gone was the girl who was teasing him about the previous score, now he had you moaning about you being made for his cock, like a whore .

It scratched an itch.

He moved one of his hands to your clit, moving it in small circles as he kept thrusting inside of you. Porco smirked as you loudly whined, your nails digging on your skin as he drove you closer to your edge. You threw your head backwards, your hips stuttering as you tried and failed to grind against Porco’s hand.

“Look at yourself, acting like a little cockslut for me,” he teased, and God-- he was not prepared for the way you squeezed his cock at his words. “Oh? You liked that, huh? It’s okay, baby, you’ll always be my pretty whore. All dumb and needy, just how I like it.”

His words made you come harder than ever before. Your entire body shook as the orgasm hit you, making you moan loudly, curses mixed with your boyfriend’s name pleasure travelled all over your body. Porco watched amused as you broke down, your walls fluttering around him, eliciting a few groans for him. He knew that he wasn’t far from coming himself, but he wasn't nearly done with you yet.

He pulled away and took your hands away from your legs, letting them rest on the mattress. He lowered his body, placing his head between your legs. Feeling his weight shifting on the bed, you propped yourself up on your elbows, widening your eyes as you watched Porco place a kiss on your inner thigh. You whimpered when he parted your folds with his fingers and licked a long stripe of your cunt, overstimulation flooding your senses.

“How does it feel being fucked by a true winner, unlike your shitty team?” he asked, arching his eyebrow in a teasing way. He spread your wetness across your folds, smirking when your body jolted underneath him.

“Pock― Pock, baby,” you panted, curling your toes at his ministrations. “I just came.”

“I know,” he retorted, placing an open-mouthed kiss right on your clit, humming at the whimper that left your lips. “But a pretty slut like you can give me one more, right?”

By the way he smirked, you knew he had caught you clenching over nothing at his words.

Whenever Porco ate you out, you had always felt it was something he really enjoyed doing. And if he hadn’t taken the time to learn exactly what made your eyes roll, you would have believed it was solely for his pleasure. He held your thighs as he buried his face in your cunt, tongue lapping greedily.

Porco hummed each time you cried out, your sensitive folds both wanting more of him and also feeling like they had reached their limit. But he ate you out like his life was on the line, sucking your clit so deliciously your arms gave out, making you fall on the mattress again.

His hands caressed your thighs up and down as he continued his chore, completely entranced and pussy drunk by how wet you were and how good you tasted. He would have laid like this for days, feeling your fists closing on his hair and tugging, his name escaping your lips like a goddamn prayer.

As he felt your thighs closing against his head, he quickened his moves, making you come for the second time. He let you hold his head still as you ground against his face, his tongue out for you to use as you pleased while you rode out your orgasm.

Once he felt your muscles relaxing, Porco crawled up your body. Tiredly, you put your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his lips fell on you. Unlike the previous events, his touch was gentle, caring and it was easy for you to melt into him once more.

“I’m sorry― I think that was out of line,” he mumbled against your cheek before pressing his lips on your skin. “But I thought you liked it and―”

“I did. It was, uhm, certainly new,” you chuckled. “But if I didn’t like it, I would have told you so. Thanks for apologizing, though.”

“Of course,” he said, his lips ghosting over yours. "I love you. I love you so much."

After whispering a love promise back, you pulled him close and kissed him softly. The shift made you notice Porco’s erection poking on your hip, just as hard as he was when he was fucking you. Slowly, you caressed Porco’s side and then shuffled your hand between your two bodies until you reached his cock, closing your fingers around it. The grunt that he made against your mouth made you smile.

“Now, I hate to admit it, but… I guess you are tonight’s champion,” you reasoned with a playful tone. Porco locked his honey eyes on yours, and you could notice how they darkened when you gave his base a small squeeze. “I would be a bad girlfriend if I didn’t treat you like one, right?”

The dissatisfied groan that came after you pulled your hand away made you chuckle. Before he could complain, you rolled over him and shifted until you were kneeling between his open thighs. You took his cock in your hands again and started pumping him, making him curse under his breath.

As you leaned down and took his tip inside your mouth, Porco had the crazy idea that maybe being in opposing teams wasn’t a bad idea after all.

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 2 (Rowaelin)

Part 1

~Rowan~

Rowan didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

The only time that even came close was when he lost his first and only court case, but over the years he'd come to live with that.

This though?

This immature, childish, irritatingly clever woman... he had a feeling he'd carry the rage he felt against her until the day he finally died of it.

Although, if he was honest, his returning move had been a little childish, too.

He'd ordered one of the guards to strip her cell of everything except the chess set. Her mattress, the makeshift knife he shuddered to think she'd had in the same room as him, her pillow.

If she wanted to steal his shit, he'd steal hers, too.

He'd also had the guard move one of his pawns forward on the board.

Not the most creative, but he didn't have many options.

What did you take from a woman who had nothing? How did you punish someone who was already serving the longest punishment available?

The bank had seized her assets when she'd been locked up, and the lease on her apartment had long since run out. She didn't have any personal items with her, didn't seem to even care about anything besides making his life hell.

Case in point, when he got home that night, exhausted from dealing with Aelin and spending a long day at the office, he'd discovered her retaliation.

She'd stolen his bed.

The whole goddamn thing, frame and all.

How she'd managed to get it out of a penthouse condo with security not realizing a thing, he had no idea. He knew from experience it wouldn't even fit through the door.

It'd seemed if she was going to be uncomfortable, so was he.

Steaming with anger, he'd showered and flopped on the couch like an idiot, not even able to sleep thanks to the rage she'd worked him into.

She was completely kicking his ass. From the inside of a jail cell.

He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep before giving up on even trying. At six, he'd dressed and driven to Whitehorn and Salvaterre, the law firm he was a partner at.

If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least figure out how the hell she was pulling this shit off.

Looking through her folder, he went through her daily schedule, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Eight am wake-up, breakfast, shower, lunch, yard time, dinner, lights out at nine. Between activities, she worked out in her cell or read a book from the run-down prison library.

In the eight years she'd been in prison, she hadn't had a single visitor. Her cousin Aedion--a playboy Rowan couldn't be paid to associate with--delivered a care package on the first of every month.

Strange, considering nothing of the sort had been in her cell.

She'd been in solitary confinement ever since randomly attacking her cellmate a little over a month ago. She was still allowed yard time and meals with the other prisoners, but she was chained at all times.

Also strange, considering Aelin wasn't the type to do anything randomly.

Rowan watched the security tapes he'd strong armed the guards into giving him, going through the past few days to see how she'd gotten out of her cell to rob him.

He watched as she was escorted to the yard, watched as she ate breakfast and lunch and dinner alone, watched as she put herself through vigorous training in her cell.

Days of footage, and he didn't find anything.

Feeling like a bit of a creep, he watched the nighttime footage of her sleeping, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

She didn't move too much or too little--both of which would indicate it wasn't really her under that thin blanket. There were no attempts to pick the locks in between her wrists and ankles, no digging into the wall behind her toilet.

Nothing.

Which meant someone was helping her.

He could go through the official channels and ask the police for her known connections, but he hadn't reported either of the robberies yet.

Partly because he wanted to deal with her himself, partly because he felt a bit stupid getting robbed from a woman in the most secure prison in the city.

Which means he'd have to go about it a different way.

Grabbing his keys from his desk, he debated how else he could make her miserable, unfortunately finding nothing else he could do to her, no revenge he could get from robbing her tiny little cell.

No, he'd have to try something new.

Maybe he could bribe her into confessing. She didn't have anything right now, but maybe he could give her something to lose.

He'd bring her lunch, force himself to apologize for yelling at her, and just politely ask who her accomplice was.

He thought on it as he rode down the elevator to the garage. It probably wouldn't work, but he didn't know what else to do.

And besides, he knew from experience Aelin didn't respond well to his anger.

Checking his email to make sure he wasn't missing any important meetings, he pressed the button on his car fob, expecting to hear the resounding beep from his designated parking spot.

Except the beep never came.

Slowly looking up, Rowan had to amend his earlier statement.

Now he didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

He stormed over to the security booth, hardly refraining from grabbing the man inside and throwing him to the ground.

"Where's my car, Rolland?"

"In your spot, boss," the stout little man replied instantly and surely, snapping his gum and looking at him in confusion. "Haven't seen you drive out yet."

"Yes, exactly. Which is why it's a mystery why it's no longer in it's spot."

Rolland caught up slowly. "You mean... it was stolen? From here? From you?"

Jaw so tight his molars were practically fused together, Rowan growled, "Just let me see the security tapes from this morning."

The guard nodded quickly, eyes nervous as he typed something into the desktop in front of him.

"That's weird," he muttered a moment later, typing faster and sending Rowan a nervous glance.

"What?" he asked, trying to calm himself down with a few of the breathing techniques he'd learned over the years.

"The tapes are gone, but there's... this."

Rolland turned the screen so Rowan could see it, and all the breathing in the world couldn't keep him from slamming a fist into the side of the security shack.

The footage was gone, and on the blank black screen read: Bishop to J7.

He was going to fucking kill her.

~Aelin~

"Enjoy your taxi ride here?" she asked sweetly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

Rowan scowled at her as he crossed the small room inmates could use to talk to their lawyers. He yanked the chair across from her out, then threw himself into it. "You are such a pain in my ass."

She just shrugged.

He sat across from her, angry and broody, and for a long time, he just stared at her.

Finally he asked, "Why are you doing this, Aelin?"

"I told you. You locked me up for something I didn't do. I want you to be as miserable as I am. It's simple, petty revenge."

Nothing about it was simple, but that was besides the point.

He was quiet for another moment. "Why now?"

She sighed, but she wasn't upset. Truthfully, she'd been waiting for him to ask that question.

"I want to tell you a story."

He stood up suddenly, face exasperated. "I'm not fucking joking around. And I'm not going to let you waste any more of my time."

He made his way to the door, and his dismissal of her pissed her off enough to say, "Sit down, or your car's going off Whigsby Bridge."

He smiled like he'd won their little game. "So you admit you have it."

"Sure," she said casually, honestly not giving a shit about the car.

His brow furrowed. "You're giving up? Just like that?"

"You're a fucking idiot if you think this is about your car, Rowan. But sure, I admit I know exactly where it, and your bed, and your little dagger are being hidden."

He narrowed his eyes. "This conversation is being recorded, and you just admitted to being an accessory to robbery, so-"

"You aren't going to press charges," she cut him off, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

Nasty little prison habit she'd developed, smoking.

Or maybe she just did it because she knew he hated the smell.

"Oh, really?" he asked incredulously, eyeing the cigarette with disdain.

She grinned. "Once you sit and hear my story and realize I'm telling the truth, you're going to feel so guilty you won't even care about the car. Now sit down. I'd hate to see a classic get totaled because you're being stubborn again."

He glared at her, but came back to the table and sat down again.

Then reached over and snatched the cigarette from her lips, putting it out against the steel table top.

She just pulled out another, lighting it with one of her last matches. The irritation on his face made it worth the loss.

He waved a hand as if to say Get on with it.

She'd debated how to tell him this story for a long time. It was long, and messy and not particularly pleasant for her. But she wanted him to know the full thing, so she'd decided to start at the very beginning.

"My parents died when I was four," she began, ignoring his dramatic sigh. "I went into foster care, and as you can imagine, I was a particularly unruly child."

She smiled at the few memories she had. "I stole from the nuns, snuck out of my room at night and ran through the house, set all the clocks back an hour so we could sleep in. Small stuff. But it irritated them, because they couldn't prove it was me."

"Sounds familiar," he grouched, making her grin.

"I was adopted by Arobynn Hamel a year later."

As she'd predicted, his mouth fell open at that.

Arobynn was the known king of the underworld in Rifthold. He had a hand in every aspect of crime, yet no one could do anything about it because he never committed the crime himself.

His name was revered, so much so no one ever dared to cross him.

"But your record says-"

"That I stayed in foster care until I turned eighteen, I know."

Arobynn hated public records and had a deal with someone in the system that he'd take some of the kids off their hands if they kept quiet about it. Illegal as hell, but he wasn't someone you refused without suffering serious consequences.

It was the perfect crime. No one would miss unwanted kids, and it gave the system one less mouth to feed.

"I didn't know it, but he'd been watching me for a while. He... I don't know, saw something in me. Natural, innocent talent he could work with and turn into something different. He adopted me on my fifth birthday. And then he started training me."

"To do what?" Rowan asked, shoulders tensing.

"Everything," she answered with a shaky laugh, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Stuff I wanted to learn, like how to pick a lock or walk without making sound. But as I got older, he taught me other stuff. Stuff I didn't want to know."

"How to kill," he finished, picking up on her tone.

She nodded, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt on the floor.

"I was good," she told him quietly, looking down at the table. "By the time I was fifteen, he said I was the best he'd ever had. None of his other... children could beat me in a fight, not even the older ones who had a hundred pounds on me. And I could steal anything and not leave a trace."

His eyes didn't show an ounce of doubt, and she didn't know how to feel about it. But she kept going anyway.

"I was his favorite. I was his best asset, and I didn't care about anything that would compromise me. I lost my parents, and despite how much he wanted me to, I never loved him. I had no weaknesses. Except Sam."

"Another of his students?" Rowan asked, and it wasn't lost on her he said students instead of children.

She nodded. "We were adopted around the same time, grew up together. He was a year older, and whenever I had a problem, he was the one I'd turn to. He was good to me, and by the time I was seventeen, not a small part of me loved him."

Aelin broke off and took a deep breath, wishing she had another cigarette and trying to figure out how to put into words how much he'd meant to her.

"Was?" Rowan asked, so softly and quietly and understandingly that she was reminded of the man he'd once been, the one she'd loved.

Shaking her head to clear it, she said, "He made a mistake. He went on a job; he was supposed to break into one of the underground casino's owned by Arobynn's competitor and memorize the ledger, but he got caught. It was messy and horrible and stupid, and the owner wanted blood. Arobynn promised he'd kill Sam as retribution."

Rowan's eyes widened, almost like he hadn't realized how brutally she'd been raised until that moment.

"I begged him not to. Sam had saved me and helped me so many times that I couldn't not do the same for him. I told him I'd do anything."

She studied her hands, regret and guilt thick on her skin. "Arobynn said if I took ten of the jobs Sam was supposed to do, he wouldn't kill him. I thought they'd be similar to the one he'd messed up on, small break-ins or robberies. So I accepted."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she batted it away as she continued, "The second I shook his hand, Tern--another of Arobynn's--shot Sam in the head."

Rowan's face blanched so quickly, she thought he might pass out.

He started to say something, but she spoke faster. "I... snapped. I killed Tern, tried to kill Arobynn. You called me a murderer, and that's true. I am, and I don't regret it. Tern was a sadistic bastard, and I'm glad he's dead. And one day, I'll kill Arobynn for what he did."

Rowan shook his head, confusion and shock and something similar to pity in his eyes. "Why didn't you leave, run away?"

She leveled a look at him. "I didn't exactly have a choice, Rowan. My punishment for Tern lasted for over a year."

There was a long pause.

"Punishment?" he asked in a breathless voice that made something in her chest hurt.

She looked at the table again, skin pebbling at the memory of that year. "He locked me in a cell in the basement, in the dark. Once a month he'd come in to ask if I knew someone named Sam. It took me ten months to get confused, another three to say no."

Still not meeting his eyes, she looked at his hands, noticing they were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. And a part of her, buried under all the rage and resentment and sadness, warmed at the thought that he was... he was angry for her.

"It took me a long time after to figure out what was real and what wasn't. But Arobynn never let me forget our deal. And right before I met you, he told me the first job."

"What were the jobs?"

Aelin looked back up at that, the air thick between them as she said, "You already know."

"The murders."

She nodded, somehow managing to keep her spine straight despite the feeling of a hundred pound weight being lifted from her shoulders.

He at least knows why now, she thought to herself.

It was one of the things that had bothered her over the years. That he didn't know why she'd done what he thought she'd done. That he thought she'd.. wanted to do it.

He was silent for a long time, just watching her with a carefully emotionless face. "Thank you for telling me that," he said eventually. "I never could understand why."

Then he stood and walked to the door again, and it was only when his hand was on the handle she spoke again. "You asked why I'm doing this, and why I'm doing it now."

He opened the door but paused. Waited.

"It's because I tried to tell you this all those years ago, and you didn't care. You just assumed I was guilty because the evidence looked like it."

She spoke around the lump in her throat. "I told you I didn't kill those people, Rowan, and you didn't even care."

He spun around, slamming the door so hard it rattled, and in a split second, he was in front of her. A hand on the table, the other on her chair, he leaned down and got in her face.

He was so angry, so unbelievably enraged she couldn't believe it. He was angry?

"I didn't care? I didn't fucking care, that's what you think? Watching you get dragged away in cuffs was the worst moment of my life, and you think I didn't fucking care?"

Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water.

That moment was crystal clear in her mind, and she couldn't put what he was saying with what she knew.

He'd watched her with that same expressionless face, with cold eyes that had haunted her ever since.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn't done.

"I fucked loved you! I thought you were the love of my life, Aelin. I begged you to tell me something that would help, tell me anything. But you didn't! You just kept saying you were innocent; you didn't give me anything to actually work with."

"I-"

"I found that stupid fucking list five days before I reported it, did you know that?"

She shook her head, because she hadn't.

"Exactly. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he growled, eyes flashing. "I spent five days investigating it myself, trying to make sense of why you'd know those names. After your arrest, I spent two weeks trying to find anything, a single piece of evidence, that said it wasn't you. And after the trial, I spent another two months trying to poke holes in my own goddamn case."

He slammed a hand into the table. "I did everything I fucking could! I was desperate for it not to be you. I argued my case so your lawyer could plead circumstantial evidence. I put you on the stand so you could say anything you wanted. I went for life sentences instead of the death penalty to give you time to actually tell me what the hell was going on!"

She was breathing heavily, heart breaking and reforming over and over again at what he was saying, what he was implying.

"I didn't assume shit," he said in a low voice, so close they shared air. "You didn't tell me anything."

Aelin's voice trembled as she croaked, "I tried."

He shook his head, letting out a breath of amusement. "No, you didn't. If this past week has proven anything, it's that you don't try to do anything, you do it. You didn't tell me anything, Aelin. You're still not telling me anything."

"I'm telling you to look again! I'm telling you you didn't look hard enough, because I left breadcrumbs only you could find, breadcrumbs that explain everything."

"Stop playing games with me!" he shouted, eyes flashing with a fresh wave of anger. "It's been eight years! Stop holding onto whatever secret you're holding onto and just tell me!"

Gods, she wanted to.

He was the one person she couldn't trust with this secret, this stupid, most important secret, and yet he was the also the one person she wanted to tell it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but what came out was, "I didn't kill them, Rowan. I promise I didn't kill them. I can't... I can't tell you anything else."

"Jesus, Aelin," he spat, pushing off the table and turning to leave.

"Just look into it," she called after him, fingers digging into the table to resist the urge to try and follow him. "I promise you can figure everything out, and you'll understand everything. Please."

She knew why, after all this time, it was so important for him to know the truth when that hadn't been her original plan.

It was because she'd spent eight years believing he hadn't tried, believing she hadn't been a good enough person for him to even look into the possibility it wasn't her.

And maybe it was because he was once again leaving her, or maybe it was because she felt like she was in that courtroom again, begging him to believe her, or maybe it was because of something she didn't even understand yet.

Regardless of the reason, she found herself saying, "I loved you, too, you know."

He looked at her with sad eyes that she was sure mirrored her own and shook his head. "Not enough, apparently."

"You don't believe that," she argued, shaking her head and trying to keep the building emotions down.

"If you'd loved me, you would've told me. You would've given me the proof, whatever breadcrumbs you're talking about. You wouldn't have let me watch them take you away."

"Rowan-"

"You wouldn't have thought, for a second, that I didn't try to fight for you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have waited eight years to do whatever it is you're trying to do."

"I had to," she whispered, even as she knew it wouldn't be enough.

She shook with the effort to not tell him everything, but even after all he'd told her and how everything had changed, she just couldn't. Not yet.

He stood at the door, watching her with those eyes she'd once thought looked like the most beautiful emeralds. "Sometimes I think about it, you know. What life would be like if I hadn't tried to fix your sink in the middle of the night."

She smiled sadly. "Me too."

Rowan shook his head, gaze taking in her face like he thought he'd never see her again.

He thought it was over now, she realized. He thought that now she knew he hadn't given up on her immediately, now that she'd told him the story she'd wanted to tell him, that it was over and she'd give up.

"Look again," she whispered. "You know I didn't do it. It's why you're here, why you kept looking after the trial ended. You know I wouldn't."

"Goodbye, Aelin," he said instead, not telling her any of the things she really wanted to hear.

It wasn't until the door shut behind him she finally let herself cry.

She'd told herself that it didn't matter; that in a month the truth would come out and everything would be normal again.

She'd told herself she was only messing with Rowan for revenge, not because she wanted to see him again or test that he'd find the clues she'd left for him.

She'd told herself this was just a game.

She'd told herself all sorts of things that turned out to be lies.

~~~

Part 3

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[northern-passage]

“you can tell the author was intending for it to be a Straight Relationship if you know what i mean” you’re absolutely right and you should say it thank you. like, i’m sure it’s super hard to write an if! i don’t think i could do it! but yeah, you can tell when authors are actually trying with the various romances versus… going through the diversity options for clicks ig.

yeah, hahaha, i'm glad you understand what i mean. i feel like every gay person has had that experience when playing a game... a very *looking into the camera like im on the office* moment.

it's something that could easily be fixed, too, imo... like it's really just the little things that make all the difference, but yeah most of these people don't actually care. like, i don't expect the romances to be Wildly different, obviously, they are still the same people, but there are some things that make me cringe as a reader when i see them. i think it becomes most prevalent in like... intimate scenes, if/when they are included, and you can tell this person has no idea what they are writing lmfao. and then stuff like that last anon brought up, where they just completely exclude certain lgbt identities because they refused to just pick up a single book on the topic.

more sinister examples would be like - choices is pretty bad for this - sidelining the gay characters, as well as the characters of color. now, personally, i don't think it's necessary for every RO/LI to have the exact same amount of "screen time" in each chapter, however, when i get to the end of the story it should have evened out... but a lot of times some ROs will literally just get less content, because the game spends all its effort on the white man RO, who has also been almost exclusively marketed as being straight even though he is romancable by all MCs. the marketing for choices, at least when i was last reading it (which to be fair was a long time ago) is painfully straight. it always is... until the company realizes they can make money off of the gay community.....

dragon age comes to mind as well, specifically sera, whose entire relationship quest consists of every other companion disapproving of the inquisitor being in a relationship with her. hello???? literally what were you thinking.... (bioware stop letting this man write your wlw characters oh my god) but this is why sensitivity readers are so important. like it literally takes just talking to one (1) gay person to fix some of this stuff.

obviously the racism from choices is an entirely different problem, and that's something other people far more qualified than me have already talked about, but it falls into the same thing of authors/game developers adding these characters just for the clicks and not because they actually want to add diversity to their story, and it's becoming more common now as, like i said, games realize they can make more money off of it.

at the end of the day i don't expect representation in games to be Perfect because that is not possible, again we already talked about it - everyone is going to have different experiences and connect with different portrayals - but damn..... at least try, you know? Make An Effort

[a-supernatural-writer]

hcs for poly! tlb with a fem! s/o who’s style is dark academia and is really blunt/logical and smart. she basically gives off a ‘mysterious, quiet, dark, critical’ vibe (she also doesn’t really know how to handle people who are extremely emotional and she doesn’t know how to soothe someone. she’s just really oblivious/clueless when it comes to others feelings). i’m so sorry if what i requested doesn’t make sense or if it was too much. i am seriously incapable of writing anything without making it look like an essay lmao. love your work btw 💕✨

Dark Academia Fem! S/O 

Poly Lost Boys x Fem reader

I had so much fun writing this! I love the dark academia aesthetic! And it made perfect sense and it wasn’t too much! Having a lot actually helps me expand and write more so thank you. And I’m the same, once I have an idea, I write a lot, so you’re all good! And awww!!! Thank you!!! 💗💗✨✨ I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so you are very different compared to the large number of characters on the boardwalk. Your style consisted of button shirts, sweaters or turtle necks, dress pants or a plaid pleated skirts, cardigans or waistcoats, oxford shoes or even wire framed glasses if you wore them for seeing or just for the look. 

To say that you caught the boys attention would be an understatement. You seemed to stand out amongst the crowd and they became curious. You were a mystery to them and they love the challenge. 

Somehow, someway, after days or weeks later, you became good friends which soon lead to you dating four trouble making punks. It was tough on both parts, but it happened, and hey, you weren’t complaining. 

You were very blunt when you first met them, not really interested in them and more or less interested in the book in your hands. It took a lot of “accidental” run ins to even get you to hang out with them. 

You slowly opened up when they offered to take you out for dinner at a local diner. They’re constant joking soon had you letting out small, almost whisper-like giggles and tiny smiles that sent them into a frenzy. 

When you would start talking about yourself, your ideas of fun were different from theirs. You liked museums, opera houses, bookstores and going to theaters to see plays. The games you played were chess and cards, and the music you listened to was old. You were pretty sure they thought you were boring but you actually peaked their interest. 

After a while of being friends with them, they asked you out. You liked them and the only logical step was to see if you liked them the same way they liked you was to date them, so you said yes. 

In general, them having a girlfriend with a 1940s/1950s dark prep look was fun. David and Dwayne like it the most. Paul next, then Marko. 

David actually really likes picking out your clothing on most days. You have an extensive collection of clothing with material from cashmere to linen, all the colors consisting of browns, black, cream and even a little dark green. 

His favorite thing to put you in is trench coats. Doesn’t matter what color it is, he just likes seeing you in them. Also, there are a handful of times that he has MADE you wear his trench coat. Yeah it almost swimmed on you, but he thought it made you look cute and it fit in perfectly with your look. 

Dark academia isn’t only your style, but it’s your way of life. David is the one that plays chess with you. You had to reteach it to him and pretty soon, the two of you had your own little set up in the cave that was always ready for a game of chess. 

David is sort of like you… in a way when it comes to others feelings. But deep down he knows that he really likes you and tries to show it the best he can. He took you to a theater to see a play that you were constantly talking about and so he took you on a date. You being you, didn’t realize that’s what it was until he told it straight to your face. Let’s just say you were speechless for the next hour. 

Also, when it’s just the two of you, deep inside the cave where your nest is, classical music is playing from your record player. It could be Beethoven, Tchaikovsky or Mozart. Whoever it is, David is the one that will listen to it with you the most. I think he really enjoys classical music and he enjoys it even more if the two of you are cuddling in your bed. 

Occasionally Dwayne would join the two of you. You would be sitting in between David’s legs as Dwayne sat in between yours, his head leaning back against your chest. It was like a cuddle pile… cuddle train?? Whatever you wanted to call it, it was cuddling while the three of you relaxed listening to classical music. And it was darn cute. 

Dwayne loves listening to you go on and on about any books you were reading at the moment. Whether or not it was nonfiction or even about any type of history. He was down. He lived through a lot and he knew about half of the stuff you gushed on about, but for some odd reason, it never bored him when you talked about it. 

He would be the one to get you new books, leaving you sweet little notes tied to them. Of course you thought it was just him being nice and thanked him for it without thinking there was any romantic meaning behind it. Yeah he was one of your boyfriends but it never really crossed your mind that way. He would just shake his head at your obliviousness and give you a small peck on the lips. 

Don’t ask him why, but his favorite look on you is a light cream colored blouse with a plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes. Dwayne is a leg man so… he’s very happy when decide to show off some skin if you decide not to wear knee-socks or stockings with it. Even if you did wear them, he would still be attached to your side the entire night. 

Like David, Dwayne would bring you out to a lot of places that were opened late at night. If there was an art exhibition in town or even a museum that was open late, just say the word and he will happily drive you on his bike. Heck, David might even tag along. 

Also, late night bookstore dates… oh my heart, it’s too sweet it hurts. There are times that he does have to throw you over his shoulder when the bookstore is closing and you're pretty much refusing to leave. When he does that, you just stay frozen over his shoulder, not knowing if you should be blushing or cursing at him for carrying you like a sack of potatoes. 

If anything, you and Dwayne connect very well. You’re naturally very quiet and so is he. Not much is said between you two but there's a mutual understanding that can’t be explained. While the others are out causing trouble, you and him are on the sidelines watching hand in hand or your reading and he's just staring at you as you do so. 

Paul and Marko kind of give you whiplash. They’re loud and rowdy and definitely 100% opposite from you. But they interested you. They had a very chaotic outlook on life which made you ask many questions. 

Paul found your look sexy. He’s horny and you give off preppy school vibes, he’s living for it 24/7. Constant teasing of you giving him ‘private lessons’ which results with you whacking a book against the back of his head. But it doesn’t stop the reddening of your ears which doesn’t make him stop.  

This man is also your designated jewelry expert. You only wear some accessories and they're very simple. So you are very surprised when Paul finds you jewelry that is your style and collects it for you. You like leather watches, guess what, he’s got it for you. You want some fancy victorian looking brooches, he’s got that too. Simple rings with a single jewel in the middle, expect constant ‘will you marry me’ jokes, but he gets you the best.

Also, he’s not overly big into your music selection. He does try to get you into his type of music, which you only like very few and far between. But when you do get him to listen to your type of music, it’s only if you agree to listen to his music the next night. You guys come up with a system and decide to switch every few nights. 

Each of the boys have their favorite look on you and Paul's is when you wear a button-up of any color with a simple black tie, a pencil skirt and a pair of Dr.Marten boots. He especially likes the tie… for reasons. God damn it, you know the reasons, get out of here. 

He’s a very affectionate boy and he finds your looks over confusion some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen. Probably the first one to tell you that he loves you and you honestly like glitched out. Did you feel the same way? Yes, but poor little thing you doesn’t say it right away, but Paul knows that you aren’t really used to saying things like that without warming up to it. Which is okay. He knows even if you don’t say it. 

He definitely steals one of your blazers to put pins on it. Marko helps, putting a few patches on it that they both know you would like. It’s the one item that stands out in all of your clothing and you will wear it if they ask you to. 

Marko definitely thinks the look is cute and it suits you very well, but why no color?! You wear dark colors but nothing bright like the colors that are on his jacket. He tries to slip in some colorful clothing into your everyday look, it never goes as planned but you give him an A for effort. 

He loves how dark you can be at times though. You want to go to a local graveyard just because? Sure! Let’s go! He’s your designated graveyard buddy. You have many date nights there, looking at all the different gravestones and finding it interesting when you jot down some names in one of your notebooks. 

Speaking of notebooks, you have many of them. They were filled with notes from books you’ve read, real life observations or even just some random poetry and short stories that you wrote. Marko would go through them a lot and even sometimes draw little doodles or rough sketches that were thought up from your writings. 

When you spend nights down at the Boardwalk, your go to drink isn’t a slushie or a milkshake or even a soda. It’s coffee or tea. Yeah, and only Marko knows your drink orders by heart. None of the others seem to remember them correctly which you thank them for trying but Marko has got them all beat. 

Marko likes seeing you in sweaters and in your trousers or linen shorts with chelsea boots. If anything, when the two of you are alone, just wearing a knit sweater and shorts were perfect for him. He likes how cozy and warm you look. He’s very happy when he cuddles you and you are warm. 

Now when they tell you that they’re vampires, you think that they’re joking. Vampires aren’t real, they’re a work of fiction. Yes there was a real man named Dracula, but there was no way that they were actual vampires. 

Then they showed you hard proof and then there was no denying it at that point. Instead of running away, you were fascinated. You wanted to understand your boyfriends vampire ways that lead to you conducting extensive research and a notebook dedicated to them. 

They showed you everything about them, how they feed, to which you didn’t bat an eyelash of watching them feed one night. You were one morbid chick but they saw that as a plus that you didn’t react. You had graveyard dates for crying out loud, nothing really surprised them at that point.

Flying came next and they had a lot of fun showing you just how high they could go with you in their arms. You never screamed at the height, you were too caught up in seeing the overhead view of the town. You could get used to seeing a view like that every night.  

Then came the other things; how they slept before you came along, what actually hurt them and what didn’t. There was one time that you stared at their vampire faces for hours because you were taking notes on how their facial features changed. 

Soon you had to stock up on more turtlenecks because of the many bite marks they would leave behind from feeding on you if the weather was bad one night. It wasn’t tough adapting to their occasional feeding. A lot of your clothing already covered up your skin so it was easy to hide from people on your nights out. 

Not too long after, they popped the question. Would you want to be a vampire? Live forever, never grow up? Be with them for all eternity? You didn’t really need to think about it for too long, you knew what your answer was and so did they even if you didn’t say it out loud. You loved your boys and not much would change.

When you did change, it was entertaining for them to watch. You soon started taking down notes about your progress, comparing and contrasting your experience to their own. 

To the eyes of many, you became even more dark and mysterious. You had an aura around you that drew people in, it’s what got you your four vampire boyfriends, only now, it brought in your meal for the night.

[diary-of-an-onliner]

lifelines [g.w.]

hi! first fic, pls be nice!

word count: 2300

warnings: none

After Gryffindor turned the tides at the last second, winning the second most important game of the season after a massive setback in the first hour, the celebrations raged harder than ever. Since Hufflepuff had beaten Slytherin to the ground two days ago, the path towards the Cup was clear. Angelina was sitting on the couch, having passed the point of looking pleased long ago, and now seemed almost frazzled by the result. People came up to her periodically, clapping her shoulder or topping off her drink, directing the buzzing energy of the common room straight into her.

Truly, the atmosphere was phenomenal, the stolen food and drinks from the kitchens juicer and a little more spiked than usual. Or maybe it was the sunlight still streaming through the windows as strongly as ever despite the past gloomy week. Whatever it was that made the day so electrically happy for everyone, it showed no signs of stopping.

This type of unrestrained feeling you always imagined started from the back of your head as s little star-like scribble that cast a net over you and spread the intensity throughout. This week it was stronger than it has been in a while.

You felt electric in the stands as you yelled for your team, an invisible line ripping the words from your throat before you even knew you were saying them. You felt elated as your housemates put their hands around you in delight, screaming themselves sore when they announced the winner. And you were feeling the happiness in your hair now, in every single strand from root to end as it swayed along with the bottle in your hand.

This was happy. This was joyful. This was utterly buttery in your chest and electric in the air.

You idly looked around the red and orange common room, which burned with excitement, deciding how to best spend this time before it runs out on Umbridge's watch and she ruins it.

No. No wasting thoughts on her today. She sucked enough life out of you and your housemates this year, she won't be doing it off the clock too.

Your eyes settled on possibly one of the strongest sources of this warmth - George Weasley, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his brother. The window behind him silhouetted him in gold perfectly, like the sun offered him to you. It accented how attractive he was, even if he burned a little at the top.

You've connected eyes before, talked before, even bantered. One wittier than the other every odd day, you toed the line between acquaintances and friends perfectly. Seeing as he's very popular, catching him in-between conversations was a matter of luck.

You imagined a line going from the center of your chest to his as you approached him. He pensively looked to the side, observing some goings-on on the far end of the room as you interrupted him.

"That was a good game. You got some very nice shots in," you said.

He turned to you with a mild close-mouthed 'hm', a look, and then a grin.

"You sure it was me?" he cocked his eyebrow and look at Fred on the couch next to Angelina, bumping knees with her and accepting congratulations in both of their names.

"You wear different numbers, genius. I know how to count this time."

"And you have my number memorized," he said, his voice glad.

"That would've been a great line if you were a Muggle."

"Pity, I already chose a magical career." he took a sip of his butterbeer and eyed you up, "Maybe I should start using my magical lines on you. Would those work better?" his eyes widened and his tone turned innocent at the end.

"I think I know too much anti-jinxes for that."

He pursed his lips in amusement. "Alright. What would work on you then?"

"Oh, I find responsibility and appropriacy really hot." you shot back, twirling a piece of your happy, charged up hair.

"Contradiction too," he said, "since you're still here."

"I find contradiction a natural state of the human soul, thus if I wasn't contradicting myself, I wouldn't fully be here."

"Hm. Brainy." he chuckled.

"Judgy. If you need me to simplify you can just say so."

"I think I can handle your smart mouth just fine."

"Then why am I winning?"

"I didn't realize this was a competition."

"Rookie mistake." you shook your head dramatically.

"I'm pretty sure it's a rookier mistake to assume you're winning. Who's the judge?"

"My innate inner sense of whether I'm winning or not."

"If it's inside you, then how would one file a complaint concerning an unfair ruling?"

"They wouldn't. It's a noble and just system that decided I'm in the lead. You just need to accept the truth."

"Don't make me come in there," he said, smirking good-naturedly.

"In where?" you shot back.

"In you." his smirk held on for a second before he seemed to realize what he said and his face scrunched up in apologetic laughter.

Your mind slipped into the gutter the way new yorkers fall into sinkholes filled with rats - hilariously fast.

Albeit greatly amused, he started to correct himself, "I didn't mean-"

"No, of course not." you licked your lips, "I understood you the first time " Was karma going to bite you in the ass for that lie? Who knows, but you might even be into that. Everything seems possible when the sun is shining. So he shone.

He grinned with his happy mouth and you once again noted how the light from the window behind him silhouetted him in the golden lining that made him look like a cutout glued onto the scene of this funny collage. His hair was aflame and his face was darker from the shadows but just as loudly burning with laughter.

This was happy.

You drew the word in your mind, line by line. H, a smooth move from the bottom, a decorative loop, then a parallel stroke, and a transversal. A, a circle with a tail, sharp move upward, and an even sharper drop for the backbone of p. P's tummy? Bulge? Nope, your mind shouldn't slip there in the middle of Binns’ class, no matter how boring he was. Another p, as George's knee bumped into yours. He was moved from "Mr. Wester, Phillip." for being disruptive, so he engaged in an under-the-table kind of disruption with his new tablemate.

You smiled. A long diagonal line, and another shorter one that cut into it. Y.

Happy.

You were, truly, right now. It sounded upside down to be happy though, both overall and when stuck in a soul-suckingly draining class, but you were.

George read over your shoulder, then audaciously engaged in over-the-table elbow-bumping-disruption and a cocked eyebrow. You straightened up, feeling a warm line unfold from the back of your head to the core of your brain, through the center of your chest, and straight to your stomach. Your happy line.

I'm happy, you mouthed.

Really? He mouthed back sarcastically yet good-naturedly. I can definitely see why. His eyes darted toward the professor. I say go for it, he's a catch. You might even be his type.

You burst out laughing, then immediately bit your lip. A few students, including Philip, looked at you as you shook with laughter, but professor Binns carried on.

George, on the other hand, shrugged with his shit-eating grin, pretending he has no idea why you were laughing, thus letting everyone know why you were laughing.

You scribbled, I don't know. What if it goes badly. I'd hate to be ghosted.

George raised his eyebrows at the Muggle slang you explained before. His hand slipped next to yours on the table and you felt your happy line thrum in approval. His hand was warm as he gently pressed it to yours, slowly took your quill, and scribbled back: Need someone more physical, huh? And I thought you were the romantic type.

Strong words for someone who never bought me dinner, you replied.

Mhm, as soon as I find a good line get you to agree to it.

Keep writing like that and I'll start thinking you fancy me.

Keep your mind in the gutter and I'll start thinking you don't fancy me back. He accented that line with a wink and an overdramatic lip bite.

You pouted sarcastically at him. Of course not, I only want you for your knobby knees.

He chuckled, reminded of the short line of warmth that connected your knees under the table. He pressed his into yours a little stronger, then pulled away.

That's a funny way of flirting. I'd know, I'm an expert at funny.

Self-proclaimed.

Untrue.

And I'm not flirting. If I was, you'd know it.

Would you? your breath hitched. For reasons you very well knew but refused to sound out to yourself, this short sentence drove the air around you two from joking to serious at breakneck speed.

Know if you were flirting with me? your happy line felt jumbled up in your stomach. He smiled at you.

Would you know if you were flirting with me?

The following week was arduous.

Gryffindors had a record amount of detentions, and Snape tore into them any and every chance he could. Even McGonagall was one edge, meaning lousy or missed homework was a death sentence. You forgot how to read from tiredness, submitting essays patchworked of other people's thoughts without ever having any information pass through your head. Everything was dull, gray, and dragged out.

Despite that, outside the castle the sky was blue and sunlight streamed through the soft clouds and a sweet breeze would blow around aimlessly. It was both comforting and a little mocking. The sky should be as exhausted and as beaten down as you. Good to know stress made you compare yourself to a literal sky. But maybe that's a little cruel. Nevertheless, it sounded like nature itself was turning its nose up at you, saying you're selfish for wanting grey skies, she doesn't care, she's above puny human affairs. The world turns and you have to turn with it or stop, then spend the rest of the time catching up.

You haven't stopped yet, but by all that is holy, you wanted to sleep. As the sun finally descended on a Friday after dinner, you finished your essays in hope that the next week might be kinder if you do everything quickly. The common room was dark, most of the light coming from the fire in the fireplace. It was also oddly empty for nine-thirty in the evening. Apparently, everyone had the same week as you.

Your almost finished essay laid on the table as you dozed, swinging your legs back and forth over the edge of your armchair.

The creak of the portrait opening caught your attention, and George Weasley walked in a second later, rubbing his sore hand and cussing.

Truly everyone had a shitty week.

"Love?" you said teasingly.

He looked up at you with a tired grin.

"It's late."

"Not really. You okay?"

"Nothing I can't handle, love." he sighed, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.

"Can I see?" you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Again, the firelight licked at the lines of his face, clear and sharp. He had circles under his eyes and a heavily nibbled lip.

"It's nothing." still, George raised his hand. "Love." he added, distantly. He seemed to be staring right above your head. You looked at the middle line of his lips again. You imagined him biting it.

Was it him that bit it? That one hurt. You hoped it was him.

You took his hand in your and rubbed circles into his knuckles. His eye winced.

"I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault."

"What happened?" he closed his eyes.

"Two ickle firsties almost brought the wrath of Umbridge into themselves with some dungbombs. You know how it goes," he said, a corner of his lip tugging upwards. Your chest expanded looking at him being satisfied with himself. As he should be.

"How... responsible of you," you said.

His eyes snapped downwards to yours.

"Keep looking at me like that and I might also start being appropriate too, darling."

You stepped closer, your happy line thrumming against your chest like a quivering violin string.

"What if being responsible is enough?"

"Enough for what?" he breathed out before you pressed yourself against him.

At first, that's was it was - a press of two warm lips. Then he started to move slowly, almost gentlemanly. How appropriate.

As he touched you, you felt the daze of last week lift. The little star scribble on the back of your head lit up, pulsing with brightness rather than fogging your thought. This was clear, you felt his every stroke that made up his face and chest and hands. The scribble of happiness extended itself into a web, overtaking your brain - you could feel it and you wondered if he saw it too when he looked at you. You pulled away and lifted your head to check. Probably not, but his eyes were glassy and he gave you a dopey smile. He was glad you were there. You pressed your lips against his again. You were glad he was there too.

The web continued down your neck, arms and chest, into your legs until your toes buzzed with light coursing through you. You were more awake than you have been in a long time.

Your hands were the brightest of all, and as you touched his hands, connecting them fingertip to fingertip, things made sense. The web buzzed and his breath was warm against yours, hands pulsing with energy as your every lifeline connected into his.

[potter-imagines]

Sunday Morning (George Weasley)

Pairing: George Weasley x reader (y/n)

Prompt: George and Y/n have been dating for sometime now but hardly anyone in Hogwarts knows much about the couple. Everyone loves to make assumptions and imagine what it’s like but only the two of them truly know how wonderful it is. 

Disclaimer: if you consider making out and kissing light smut, then this would be light smut lol also I will be posting more Tuesday from previous request !!

Warning: implied smut, mainly fluffy

Word Count: 4.9k

No student in their right mind enjoyed waking up before noon on a Sunday morning at Hogwarts. Saturdays were reserved for Quidditch matches, late night parties, trouble, and day trips to Hogsmeade. Sundays were reserved for recovery. And this morning was no different.

A handful of students were scattered about the Great Hall munching on the delicious food before them. Despite the colorful and bright breakfast lining the tables, the mood was dull and tiresome. Small whispers were heard as well as the pages of a book being turned, otherwise, it was quiet. The Gryffindor table was bare- well almost.

Each table had at least seven students or more but at the Gryffindor table, there were only two.  The previous night had brought a never ending line of drinks and laughter. The Gryffindor common room was still buzzing even after the sun had risen. A nail-biting match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had taken place Saturday night. The tension was thick but the win tasted oh so sweet. Everyone was running on a high after the game. As a result of their victory, the fourth-year students and up decided to have a ‘little’ celebration. It could be assumed nearly no one went to bed the night fully sober, not even Hermione Granger. Fred Weasley had coaxed her into trying his beer after spending three hours following her around and pestering her with amusement. The same two Gryffindor’s sitting closely to each other at breakfast were the same two students who turned in for the night at 9pm and fell asleep in a sober state.

George Weasley and Y/n Y/l/n had been a couple for about a year and a half and seemed to only grow more infatuated with each other as the time swayed on. They were a more reserved couple, which surprised most. Fred and George had a large reputation at Hogwarts. Every student, as well as professor, knew their name. Even the ghosts and portraits would greet them by name!

The twins were outgoing, popular, chatty, and loud. They walked the castle with confidence like the prankster kings they are. That didn’t mean they weren’t two totally different people.

Fred took the lead in most situations and George followed after him with explanation. Fred acted on impulse and George put a bit more thought behind decisions. George was also more sympathetic than his twin. It was in these differences and more that Y/n fell for George and why they connected so perfectly. She was similar to him; outgoing, but still solemn and secretive. Happy and bubbly, thoughtful and caring.

When word spread about Y/n and George dating, everyone expected the two of them to be showing off their relationship with fireworks, bright lights, and confetti. Though the pair walked calmly into their class, holding hands and giggling to themselves as they whispered. They didn’t feel the need to show anything off to anyone or prove a single thing. Besides, Y/n didn’t want the whole school knowing her personal business. It felt a little more personal when they saved it for behind closed doors. 

This doesn’t mean George wasn’t affectionate with Y/n in public. He always had his hand on her, typically laced within her own. He’d walk with her to every class, leaving her with kiss on both cheeks, her forehead, then lips. He’d flirt with her in class through notes and tease her endlessly. Everyone knew they were a couple deeply in love, they just didn’t know as much as they wanted. Gossip was the devil’s music and almost every student had their radio volumes on high. But George and Y/n refused to give them anything to talk about. It was admirable in the way. Their love was crystal clear, everyone could see that, but there was so much more beneath the surface their eyes were blocked from, and the couple loved that.

George and Y/n spent Saturday night in George’s dorm room, having their own little party. They mingled and socialized with their friends for a good two hours before sneaking away to the boy’s dormitory tower. Y/n managed to swipe a large carton of pumpkin juice to share then chased behind George. A smile kissed her lips when she noticed her boyfriend was having the same ideas as her. In his hands was a stack of cookies, and a bag of crisps.

“Great minds think alike.” He smirked and reached his hand out, eager for her touch again. She accepted the offer and delicately tugged on his hand. George glanced back, curious at her gesture. A gleeful flash crossed her sharp features. Y/n grabbed a fistful of George’s black robes and slammed his body towards her. George gasped slightly at the movement, clutching the food in his arms as to keep himself from dropping them.

Y/n matched her lips with George, dragging the tall Gryffindor down for a kiss. Bent at the knees, George leaned back so her body could rest against his. Y/n’s grasp remained on his chest but her free hand yanked at the back of his neck, deepening their already heated make out. George allowed his hand to slip down her back, the other still holding their snacks. Resting right at the small of her back, George began to lift his head, a signal for Y/n to pull back. A childlike pout seeped on her face while she let out a huff. She knew they would continue with this in his room but she couldn’t resist the opportunity to get a special sneak peek. A chuckle emanated through the grinning redhead. He was still shocked by her boldness- not that he minded. Not in the slightest. George leaned forward and painted a trail of kisses all across her face, not missing an inch of skin. The young witch retaliated the attack with a jab to his side, then a full-on tickle war. Loudly yelping, George attempted to grab her hands, but she was too quick. This was a typical moment between them, but not when they were somewhat in front of their friends. Not that they were paying any attention at all.

The partygoers seemed far too engaged in the music and talk that they missed the sweet entanglement. What a shame, George thought, it was what they had been waiting for after all. Something to talk about. Although the party was sure to give other chatter and topics for the next week to discuss. Y/n slowly stopped, still buzzing with laughter. George shook his head and leaned into the wall, still trying to recover from his girlfriend’s torturous wrath.  His warm brown eyes were trained on her. They had been together for a while but sometimes, he still thought it was a dream. George left one last kiss to her forehead whispering against her skin, savoring the moment.

“I love you, darling... you’re so beautiful.”

“Stop it Georgie, you’re making me blush.” Y/n squealed as George grabbed at her waist and gave me a small twirl. Her flats landed back on the stone stairs with a clank. Leaning up, Y/n left one last kiss to George’s pink lips.

“That’s kind of the whole point, you’re adorable when your flustered. Now can I have another kiss, darling?”

“You’re going to have to catch me first!” With a quick giggle, Y/n turned on her heel and sprinted up the steps of the boy’s dormitory. The staircase was spiraled making the chase more difficult. Y/n was well aware she wasn’t going to win, but that was part of the fun. George being much taller took two steps at a time with ease, rapidly catching up to the young witch. This was their game, George could easily pull her back and get a kiss himself, but it wouldn’t be as exciting this way.

Y/n stopped at George’s door and looked behind her only to see George nearly towering over her smiling. He unlocked the door and pushed it open for the pair to enter. Luckily, all his roommates were still wrapped up in the party and wouldn’t be up for a few hours. George led Y/n to his bed, snatching back the covers and practically shoving her on the mattress. Y/n’s glamorous laughter filled the emptiness, warming George’s heart.

Pulling his wand out, George muttered a privacy spell, not wanting anymore to hear your sweet noise that would soon be coating the walls. He set his wand on his nightstand then focused back on the girl laying underneath him. She looked so pure, so dreamy just lying there. George moved forward, unable to resist the gravitational pull. This kiss was different than earlier- more serious and compassionate. Y/n wrapped her hands around his face, desperate to have as much contact with George as possible. They spent the rest of the night tangled in his bed sheets and howling with laughter. They watched the stars outside the small dorm window and held each other for the remained of the night. George’s roommates hadn’t even noticed the pair passed out in his bed when they turned in for the night.

Fred walked over, excited to tell his brother about his snog fest with Angelina but stopped short. His twin was sound asleep, arms secured around the smaller frame in front of him. It was a good thing Fred liked Y/n, otherwise he surely would’ve kicked the girl out. Although he didn’t have the heart to do so when he saw the couple. Y/n’s hands clutched her boyfriend’s grip as her head rested against his chest, buried in a deep slumber.

“Oi’ Fred, leave ‘em be. They’re in love.” Lee, still buzzing off the flowing drink, was stumbling to his bed, tearing off his school uniform in the process. The lights were dim and the rising sun began to break through the dorm windows.

Fred walked towards Lee Jordan’s bed and started rummaging through his dresser drawers. He was in search of something, Lee wasn’t even sure. Soon enough Fred came back to his bed and sat down with a camera in his hands. Lifting the lens to his view, Fred snapped a line of photos of the sleeping couple. Lee chuckled with a roll of his eyes. Fred always loved harassing his twin about how in love he was with their friend. Lee and Fred were happy it was Y/n and not some other girl.

The pictures slowly processed but Fred’s interest had moved on. Lee was already tucked into bed, his eyes closed as his drunk snores shook the room. The alcohol was wearing off and the desire for sleep was settling in. Fred threw on a pair of red pajamas and climbed into bed. He was in another dream land before his head could hit the pillow, which brings us back to breakfast Sunday morning.

Y/n and George enjoyed the lack of life in the dinning hall. They shared a similar group of friends and loved them very much, but it was a special moment when they were able to bask in the light of each other. George’s company was like a never-ending hug. His smile conflicted with the fearless butterflies fluttering in her stomach. No other man had ever had this effect on her. She was weaved into his very soul.

Sitting and chatting amongst themselves, George had an arm thrown loosely around his girlfriend, admiring her morning appearance. Her hair was still messy, needing a brush through. There were tiny lines under her eyes from the lack of sleep she had been getting. George knew she slept best when they shared a bed so he always tried to let her sleep in as late as her vivid mind would allow. For Y/n, sleeping in until 10am on the weekends was considered a treat. She hated feeling as if she has wasted her day away by sleeping. George on the other hand would stay in bed all week long if his professors allowed it.

“Did you hear Lee last night? I heard him trying to get to the bathroom and when he was going for the door, he tripped over Fred’s school bag and took down his nightstand with him! Fred screamed so loud- I can’t believe you didn’t wake up!” Her musical laughter sent tingels through George’s body. It was like a dose of dopamine, his eyes couldn’t resist glancing down at her. George had almost every little centimeter of Y/n’s grinning features memorized in his skull. Although there were pictures to taped to his walls of you so of course that played a role as well. But he often found himself staring at her- sometimes not even noticing the diversion of attention. Most of Snape’s class George spent daydreaming about his future with Y/n. He’d think of their wedding, buying a house together, starting a family, celebrating holidays together, seeking out new adventures and everything in between. He found himself eager to leave Hogwarts for good and move out so you could start that chapter of your life together.

Squeezing Y/n shoulder, George pulled her closer to his side,

“No, I slept like a baby next to you. Can’t believe you’re thinking about other guys while you’re laying in my arms, that’s just heartbreaking-“ “George!” Wide eyed, Y/n smacked her boyfriend’s side. George erupted in a fit of chuckles, rubbing the side of his arm she had attacked. “I’m only teasin’ you, darling. Wish I would’ve seen that though, I’m sure Fred will give him hell for it.”

“It wasn’t a pleasant sight at all. Poor boy just laid there, didn’t even get up for another few minutes.” Y/n took a bit out of her toast absentmindedly. Her thoughts were still on last night and the tumble her friend had taken. It was pretty funny, but she was too tired to humor the moment. Not to mention the moans of pain Lee let out as he squirmed around on the floor. It was an odd method to rid the pain, not that it seemed to relieve anything.

“Sure it hurt his massive ego more than anything.”

Y/n was about to change the subject when the sound of footsteps made the couple turn. By the entrance of the Great Hall was half the group of Y/n and George’s friends. Fred, Lee, Hermione, Harry and Ron found their way to the pair as they entered for breakfast. Ron was visibly excited at the menu for the day. He plopped himself diagonal from his older brother in front of a mouth water mountain of pancakes swimming in syrup and crisp strips of bacons displayed on top. The ginger wasted no time digging into his meal. Hermione squinted her eyes at him but took the open seat next to him regardless. She was across from Y/n and gave her close friend a sweet smile and ‘good morning’. Harry sat next to Hermione and Lee crossed the table to occupy the spot next to Y/n. She looked at him knowingly and before she could ask how he was feeling, the Chip to George’s Dale greeted them,

“Good morning, love birds! Have we missed out on any adorably puke worthy moments yet?”

“Hello Fred- and everyone else.” Fred swung his leg one at a time over the long bench, shoving himself in-between George and Y/n. This earned a harsh shove from George causing Fred to bump Y/n. Her juice splashed onto the table, wetting the front of her notebook. The girl glared at the twins, annoyed by the shift in company. George muttered an apology while Fred simply shrugged and leaned into her.

“How are you feeling after your little accident last night, Jordan?”

“Oh god,” Lee face palmed immediately while Fred started to laugh at the recollection, “Please don’t tell me you were awake.” He said embarrassed. Y/n nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I woke up when I heard you talking about the bathroom then I saw you get tangled in Fred’s bag and fall onto the floor. You also knocked over your stand I believe. Then you just laid on the floor and I reckon you were gonna end it all, felt sorry honestly. I would’ve gotten up but I was too tired to help.” This caused the whole table to laugh in unison at her statement. Lee scurried to explain and calm down his friends,

“You would be right- it’s not funny, guys! I was piss ass drunk and couldn’t tell my right foot from my left.” The giggles continued on for a while as Harry and Ron asked Lee to explain. He told the his side of the event, which created ever more rambunctiousness. Hermione was holding to Harry’s shoulder for stability as her body shook with humor.

“Speaking of last night, you two cuties seemed to have a fun time alone!” Fred sounded a bit too happy for either of the couple’s liking.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Fred?”

“Don’t ask-“ Lee was swiftly interrupted by a gleaming Fred.

“Glad you asked!” He cheered. Lifting himself up, Fred reached into the pocket of his robes and retrieved four square slips. He held the small card like squares in one hand and, much to his brother’s disbelief, wrapped his free his arm around Y/n’s shoulders. George’s eye narrowed at this. What was his brother up to? The mischievous smirk returned to Fred’s face as he looked between Y/n and his brother. It was so hard for Fred to get something good to tease George with. He practically gave him nothing!

Fred turned the squares around flashing the contents to the four friends sitting infront of him. Hermione was the first to react, gasping as she took one of the squares from Fred. Her hand was covering her mouth as she awed. Ron looked… disgusted? It was hard to tell. He looked pleased with the food on his plate and in his mouth, but bitter towards Fred’s surprise. Ron waved his hand, signaling to Fred that he didn’t care.

Harry just smiled then glanced up towards George, then over to Y/n. By this point, Y/n had enough of the mixed emotion stares from her friends and yanked Fred’s arm back so she could see what the pictures were of.

Suddenly, the Gryffindor felt her mouth open in shock as she examined the photo. George mirrored her actions and looked at his twin in confusion.

“You creep! We were sleeping.” Y/n screeched at the image clutched between Fred’s fingers. George attempted to snatch the pile from his hands but being twins, Fred saw that one coming. He pulled them back, there was no way Fred would allow George or Y/n not have the pictures that quickly. Lee Jordan had a similar smirk as Fred, it was amusing for a Sunday morning. Saturday hadn’t given much news for the week so of course their friends were bound to fall back on the topic of George and Y/n. Fred had struck gold with this one. It was harmless of course, but it made the couple flustered to deal with the teasing.

“I told him to leave you guys alone, but knowing Fred, this is nothing. Actually quite a cute little moment-“ Hermione interrupted Lee with an excited voice,

“Oh my god, Y/n! This is so adorable. I have to show Ginny!” She flashed a grin to Y/n and exited the hall with a speed walk. Y/n let out a groan. Hermione would show Ginny plus some, Ginny would show Alicia plus some, and so on. She didn’t care so much as she was annoyed to have attention drawn to her relationship with George. It happens to a lot of couples at Hogwarts. It’s a big school, but the students are close. Couples get a little more attention among the students. Watched with more scrutiny by students praying for drama, sadly there was an overcrowding of these students at Hogwarts. Talk spread like wildfires, and in the process, words get manipulated. Rumors ensue and drama explodes. Y/n and George were happy- in love. The last thing they wanted was talk around the castle.

“Girls…” Ron mumbled and shook his head.

“Really, Fred? You know I’m going to make it my goal to get a picture of you snogging Angelina. At least people know I’m dating Y/n, wait until they get ahold of you and Angelina! The gossip! I can already hear it.” George’s threat came with a devilish smirk to his lips. On the other side of Fred, Y/n felt her body calming at George’s words. He was cracking playful taunts and was somehow enjoying the situation.  

“Ah it wasn’t that bad, relax. I’m just giving the people what they want! You two are so secretive- everyone wanted to see more! I mean, you guys are basically the topic of everyone’s discussion lately. It’s sickeningly adorable so chill out. You don’t need to take it that far.”

“For once, he’s right, George.” Y/n squished Fred as she leaned across his body causing him to move back so she could squeeze George’s hand. “I think it’s cute. You look so soft and peaceful when you’re asleep!”

The four boys watched hesitantly. There were rare instants like these where they got a glimpse into the layers of the couple’s ways. This also means they had a feeling where this was about to turn, and none of them wants to deal with any sappiness before noon. Just as predicted, George slides his hand from Y/n’s up the side of her arm to her neck, where he held a half grip for composure and control. Nudging her forward by the back of her neck, George linked his lips to Y/n and kissed her with his twin still leaning back. This time, Fred did not want to sit in the middle of them. A chorus of protests could be heard as Ron threw a piece of bread at George. Harry stuck his tongue out in an overexaggerated expression of disgust. Hands secured around his face. Lee opened his fingers to peek through waiting for the heated embrace to wrap up.

“Well how could I not when I have the most beautiful girl in the world laying in my arms?” This was their favorite game to play. George would over play his cheesiness until his friends would lose interest and demand the cuteness to stop.

Y/n batted her eyes up at George, bathing in the reactions of her friends. They made her and George uncomfortable more times than she could count so it was self-rewarding to turn the table on them.  

Fred place one hand on Y/n’s shoulder and the other on his twin, shoving them apart in one motion,

“Okay, ew.” A grimace covered Fred’s features. He found himself wished he had stayed in bed instead of coming to breakfast. It was far too early to see this much love. George’s plate was nearly empty, and he was finishing up the last bit of his omelet. His coffee cup was bone dry, having been that way shortly after they sat down. It was no secret he had a bit of an addiction of caffeine. Y/n sipped from a small glass cup. The dark blue liquid was sweet and smooth. Blueberry juice was a rarity she had only stumbled upon at Hogwarts. She could recall the look of cluelessness her muggle cashier had given her when she asked for a gallon from a supermarket near her home.

Y/n chewed on the last piece of her toast while George gave his brother innocent eyes,

“What? I’m just giving the people what they want, what they’ve been dying to talk about! You said it yourself, Freddie.” Fred shot sharp daggers at George for his wit. He knocked him on the side of the head a replied, 

“Okay, I take it back then. I’d rather not know, and you can go be all lovey dovey in private, away from me please!” Lifting his hand, Fred started shooing his hand and motioned towards the staircase outside the large doors.

Harry and Lee paused their side conversation and Ron sat down his fork for a moment. Ron grasps his chin and slides his lips to the side of his mouth, as if deep in contempt. He then remarked,

“Agreed.” Harry and Lee chuckled and shrugged.

More students had started to flow freely into the dining hall. Y/n figured the more Gryffindor’s that swept into the hall, the less occupying the common room.  The gentle brown orbs of George found their way to Y/n’s every few seconds. When their gaze met, her bottom lip drew back as she bit on the skin subconsciously, George noticed this. He shifted forward not realizing he was leaning in towards her. Fred shouted a quick ‘no’ not wanting a repeat of the previous scenario. Y/n made kissy faces at Fred, mocking his displeasure. At the same time George brought his finger up to his twin’s head and delivered a hard flick. Fred reached for the side of his head, glaring at George.

“C’mon, George. I think we have some business to attend to, in private.” Y/n winked at her boyfriend who had a cheeky smile plastered to his lips. George sprung up from his seat and quickly got off the bench and extended his arm. A light tint popped on Y/n’s cheeks as his thoughtfulness. Wrapping her arm around his, she accepted his help and climbed over the seat.

“Couldn’t agree more, love.” George and Y/n started walking away from their friends and heading for the common room. They hadn’t made any plans for the day anyhow so spending it next to the fire or in his room sounded more than appealing. George stopped their pace just as they reached the massive doors of the Great Hall. Bending slightly at the knees, George pressed a feather like kiss to Y/n’s forehead, then on the tip of her nose, earning a wave of giggles from the girl. It was his favorite sound. George attached his arm around hers once again and set back off for their destination. Before they could make it out free, the familiar voice of Fred shouted across the hall,

“You better keep it on your side, George! And not on my bed or I swear to Merlin I will hex both of you!”

George waved back to him, giving him a thumbs up with a less than confident expression. His hand trailed down from her back to the curve of her ass and started to grab at the skin until she swatted it away, feeling the pairs of eyes glued to them. It was bold, undoubtably hot, but there were far too many students in the hall for Y/n’s liking to continue it there. His touch creates a pit of warmth in the bottom of her stomach. They didn’t show any of this in front of their friends, so it was exciting in a way but worrisome at the same time. Y/n had no intentions of turning a PG-13 situation R in the Great Hall with most of her friends and a bunch of second- and first-year children trying to enjoy breakfast. Didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling a bit frustrated and wanting to throw that feeling back on him. Fred scowled but sat back down. They were twins, he knew George wouldn’t but that didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed by his mockful antics.

“Not nice, George. You’re so mean to poor Freddie. I think I should go talk to him and make it up to him… for how rude you were.” Her words dripped with witticism and a sweet passion burned in her eyes. George knew that look; he absolutely loved that look.

“No, you’re not making anything up to him. You’re mine, not Fred’s or have you forgotten? Now go up to your dorm room and meet me in mine in twenty.” There was a difference to the twinkle in his eyes. Darker than before, more fired up. Y/n’s hand shook at his words, noticeably flushed and taken aback by his strong words. They had only recent started being intimate a few months ago so they had been finding out new things about each other every day. This, this was definitely new. And Y/n found herself weak at the knees by it.

These moments were not too common, but she loved them. It was fun to see George getting worked up by just her teasing words alone. He shifted as he picked up the pace. The material of his jeans growing constrictive and uncomfortable with every step. Y/n was practically being dragged down the long hall until George came to a halt, then abruptly turned to head back in the direction of the Great Hall. Before walking off completely, he left one last peck to Y/n’s warm cheek, then dart off. 

Lost at his change, Y/n furrowed her brows in question, “Where are you going?”

George’s body swirled around at her request. He didn’t stop his pace, now walking backwards towards the dining hall. Shoving his thumb to his back, he gestured to their previous spot,

“I’ve gotta tell my roommate not to come back to the dorm for a few hours. We’re going to be quite busy, darling. It seems there’s a lesson that you’ve forgot. I’m going to have to teach you and knowing how stubborn you are, it could take a while.” With a wink he rushed into the hall and disappeared. Y/n didn’t need to be told more. She started walking again- or rather running towards her dorm room to freshen up. Based on his words, she knew it would be one hell of a morning.

[testingcheats0n]

Detroit Become Human AU where:

-> Tommy is an up-and-coming livestreamer of the retro game Minecraft- forming part of a fledgling community of all-human players of the game. His growth is slow but steady and he has a future in a genre that had fallen out of fashion with the rise of the newest and more immersive VR games on the market. People love to see an actual human that could make mistakes and win against another fellow human fairly. The nostalgia it brought to some people is also undeniably at play.

It's worth noting that Tommy is a very lonely kid, with a non-existent social life since he and his family had to move to America after his father struck a lucrative business deal with his brilliant protege.

-> Wilbur, Tommy's older brother and only guardian after their father, Phil, dedicated his life to the creation of androids with his young but brilliant pupil Elijah Kamski, is a simple busker. It's hard to find a job at 24 with no previous experience or further education, he had to take care of Tommy, after all. True, their economic troubles never ended, and he could barely provide for Tommy, but at least they had each other, even if Wilbur was off to the streets of Detroit more often than not. He has no idea of his younger brother's blooming career in the gaming industry and is very worried about his future. The solution? A very suspicious android his best friend Schlatt offers for very cheap.

-> Phil Watson is a household name together with Elijah Kamski's, they created one of humanity's greatest tools, after all. Nothing suspicious here, they're definitely not hiding any potential deviancies from the code! In any case, his family never saw a dime of the frankly insane amount of money piling up in his bank account. He has an old phone he carries in his pocket every day with Wilbur's phone number, but he never dares to call it despite RN800, his assistant's, insistence that he was only making his own life harder. He is going to dial that phone number someday. Surely.

-> TU880 is an android from an old companion/educational line, discontinued after a few notable bugs and glitches in their core programming. Nothing serious, or life-threatening, but many customers have complained about disturbing behavior that falls straight into the uncanny valley- he's too human. Schlatt, his previous owner, refuses to disclose where he got TU880 from, nor does he have any legal documentation to prove he is his owner. Wilbur, desperate to find a solution for Tommy's perceived loneliness pays the fifty bucks his old pal asks for the android without asking any questions. It's weird for an adult to go around with a teen model created to counsel adolescents and help them with their homework. TU880 had problems with reading his grocery list, anyway.

-> Tommy is a bit weirded out, he thrives in an internet community which openly despises anything android, but his good friend Technoblade has plenty of useful advice, from maitenance to behavior. TU880 is odd, which he discards as kinks and bugs of the older models, but they get along nicely once TU880's programming kicks in. He likes to help Tommy edit his videos and speak about the problems of adolescence, he is oddly fond of bees or anything small and defenceless and likes to tell his 'dreams' of scientists in labcoats and other kids like him stuck in experiments. Tommy listens with half an ear, TU880 is his friend, after all. He thinks nothing of it.

-> It all becomes a bit too much when TU880 accidentally appears on camera during one of Tommy's streams. People assume he's Tommy's brother, and insist on getting an introduction. TU880 is ecstatic, but from what Tommy's told him, revealing his artificial status might harm his friend's career so he greets the chat as Toby, Tommy's older brother. The community goes wild and Tommy has to pretend that TU880 is his brother (which isn't that terrible per-se) and not the house assistant who has a complete psychological profile of him.

-> TU880 begins to feel strange, both regarding Tommy and his own place in the household. Calling Tommy hus brother is easy as calculus and makes his thirium pump skip a few beats, but he's not sure if he should be getting this attached. He's sure he is malfunctioning in some way, but Schlatt always assured him that he is fine. He thinks nothing of it and instead continues to watch over Tommy.

-> Minecraft is fun, and he eventually gets his own account on Wilbur's old (read: ancient) laptop despite possessing an internal processor powerful enough to play the game at its maximum capacity in his mind, and probably in a 3D holoprojector. At this point, he's in too deep and the friends he's making would certainly ask questions if he were to disappear. He has the opportunity to talk about anything at all to his growing audience, and the community is very welcoming in general once one integrates into their culture. He still doesn't feel it's fair to participate in the tournaments and all the other official competitions. People find it odd, but they assume he's not very good at PVP so no one tends to comment on it for now. It's okay though, he and his new friend Ranboo act as commentators during the events and everyone thinks they're pretty funny.

-> Ranboo is fun to be around. He just gets TU880- or as the internet knows him as, Tubbo. They click easily, sometimes the other boy seems just as confused about other people's reactions and behavior as Tubbo is (despite his in-depth knowledge of psychology. He's not quite connected to Cyberlife's database anymore and his learning algorithm is outdated at best.) and they like to spend their afternoons with Tommy, watching movies. The game overtakes their lives and they spend a lot of time playing privately with the best strategies Tubbo's advanced algorithms and Ranboo's sheer brilliancy can create. That's how they meet their friend Fundy, who is more than happy to keep their Technical Minecraft server a secret, as long as he gets to do his own thing with coding and they test it.

-> Tommy is just happy that he can use the cool farms for his own grinding.

-> Technoblade is Tommy's mysterious internet friend and fellow growing streamer. Everyone is sure that he's an android infiltrating the budding community, but after several years of isolated incidents, investigations, and online scandals no one was able to prove anything. Technoblade just never dies. (Tommy is 50% sure his friend is really an android, the older man simply refuses to comment). It is possible to spend months farming digital potatoes, people are just mean and want drama. Technoblade is just vibing. Incidentally, he's also the first one to figure out that Ranboo and Tubbo are androids. He is also the first one to figure out they're deviants. He doesn't mention it until much later though.

-> Jack and Niki Manifold have successfully founded their own mechanic business for android repairs. Cyberlife mumbled and grumbled at the siblings' repair shop, but in the end it was good for PR so they let them be. Tommy and Wilbur become their friends as TU880's frequent malfunctions inevitably bring the pair to the cheapest android repair service in the city. TU880 can't complain, Niki is sweet to him and understands what is wrong with him just by his description, since his diagnostics aren't working entirely and each an every single one of Jack's repairs last loner than every other mechanic he's been to.

-> Gradually, Tommy's fame becomes apparent, and Wilbur has the time to actually rest and spend time with his brother. He's just happy that they can be together. A weight is lifted off his shoulders and for the first time ever he feels like his little family has a future. Not even once does it pass through his mind that TU880 isn't acting like a typical android- he avoided the things on principle. Once, TU880 calls him his brother and he cries.

-> Sam is Cyberlife's very own private investigator. He is in charge of researching and turning in possible deviants that might help the company with developing a solution for the rising problem. In particular, he's been after the trail of a specific line of androids, the first one released by Kamski and Watson dubbed as TU. According to his investigations the line might have contained the code responsible for deviancy. Further research indicated that Kamski's code was based on a group project from the Dutch university for cibernetics.

-> Fundy is just a 21 y/o with a Twitch account and a passing interest in coding. Nothing serious, nothing suspicious. He absolutely wasn't part of the early AI coding trials that Kamski would later on use as the basis for his own code. If someone asks, he has no idea what ra9 means. He is almost sure that his friends are androids, the thought makes him very happy.

-> Puffy is Phil's new psychologist. Need I say more? Eventual Hurt/comfort baby!!!

[thewebcomicsreview]

If you look up “How to make a magic system” over on the Google, you’ll get a lot of advice. Make it “hard magic”, focus on the cost of casting spells, Think about the effects of magic on society, blatantly rip of bending from Avatar, etc etc etc. People will often say that the best magic systems are stuff like Avatar, FullMetal Alchemist, or Battle Anime where people spend thirty pages explaining their stand, with a very strong preference for Hard Magic, but as a general rule and especially if your protagonist is a spellcaster themselves. It’s one of those iron-clad rules of fantasy writing: The ability of magic to solve problems in directly proportional to the audience’s ability to understand magic. There are tons of writing guides that make it very clear that you can’t make a successful fantasy story where the main character can resolve issues with some nebulous vaguely defined and unexplained magical abilities, like using some kind of “guide the arrows to hit the target” spell that was never so much as hinted was one of his powers until the moment he uses it.

Audiences just won’t put up with it!

Prequel is a fancomic based on the Elder Scrolls series of games. This presents it with an issue when trying to tell a story of a girl who slowly becomes a powerful and heroic wizard: It’s magic system has to line up with a video game, one with a fairly generic “wave your hands and a spell happens and your MP goes down” magic system, where wizards can shoot fireballs, heal, walk on water, pick locks, summon monsters, summon pants, turn invisible, trap souls, move things telekinetically, etc. with no real underlying logic connecting it all. How do you make it interesting to learn about? 

One thing Prequel does that’s kind of clever is that it leans into the inherent “softness” and inconsistent nature of the Elder Scroll’s games and really digs into how fucking frustrating it must be to learn how to be a wizard in a soft magic setting.

Every single spell or magical effect in Prequel has an entirely unique set of rules for how that one spell works. Destruction magic is based on emotions, mysticism is apparently more of a logic and understanding, summoning is literally calling a tech support hotline....

Which is neat and all, but none of that really matters. What makes this so interesting is how all this magic shit relates to Katia, because she’s the protagonist and it’s her story.  And Katia’s got a bit of a problem that gets her into trouble a lot, an emotional boom-and-bust cycle that works like this:

Things go badly for Katia

Katia has an emotional crash

Katia tries to fix things (in this case by raiding a tomb to find treasure)

Katia has a lucky break

Having succeeded at something, Katia gets overconfident that her entire life has managed to turn a corner and that she’s transformed into a cool and successful new person

Things go badly for Katia

Katia has an emotional crash.

This is a enough of a repeated pattern that the above panel is where a lot of people apparently drop Prequel, convinced it’s just gonna be misery porn. Katia needs to get control of her emotions. She needs to learn to think more carefully. She needs to be able to change the parts of herself she wants to be different.

Anyway, we were talking about magic. The first spell Katia learns is powered by her emotions, taking her hurt feelings when experiencing racist micro-aggressions and channeling those feelings more productively.

Once Katia learns this ability, then the next time she has a big emotional crash-

Is the time where she manages to lot let her negative emotions control her.  And at no point does the comic explicitly make the connection between Katia learning to channel her negative emotions in magic and Katia managing to overcome her negative emotions and quit drinking.

I mean, yes, the act of refusing to give in to despair causes Katia to immediately get her fire powers super-charged, but because this is treated as a problem for her to solve (”Oh shit everything’s on fire!”), the connection is one of those things you have to put together yourself, or have a Webcomics tumblr point out to you. 

The second spell she learns is based thinking logically and realizing that things don’t inherently have to be the way they are.

In this case, the connection is reversed. Katia learns “to think like a Witch-hunter” and gains Telekinesis. 

And this causes her to do something she’s never really done: Make a plan. Once she learns to think like a Witchhunter, Katia does a lot more thinking generally, and doesn’t rush headlong into bad ideas nearly as often. 

The magic system in Prequel isn’t interesting because it follows rules or because it’s well understood in a way that makes it easy to slot your OC into it. It’s interesting because it’s tailor-made for Katia’s personal character arc.

And so while healing magic being a time of time travel is a cool idea (and one I independently had for Saffron and Sage before Prequel did it, for the record), what makes it really interesting is that the key is “believing in yourself harder”. The reason Katia can’t get a handle on how restoration works isn’t some worldbuilding lore, it’s because she hasn’t gotten to that point in her character arc quite yet. 

Because ultimately the worldbuilding exists to serve the story, and doing what serves the story is always going to be better than doing what some guide on the internet says is the “right” way to do something.

[aitarose]

YELLOW DAISIES (A. MIYA) pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader

synopsis: atsumu miya, japan’s most entitled player, the person that strangers resented for unprecedented boasting and confidence—a facade as there was only one person who knew the real him.

word count: 1.6k

genre: established relationship, fluff, time skip

warnings: slight angst, asshole!atsumu?, hospital, mentions of death

notes: i’m only on episode two of season four so i’ve literally never heard this man speak a word, but i wrote this for some reason asjdfkl

↳ DIRECTORY

He was revolutionary—that was what flashed in bright lights in the media, magazines, and news when the name Miya Atsumu came into the picture. It was an honorable title, one that he’d earned from his years of experience, years of effort to become the best player he could possibly be. 

Fans of the game couldn’t help but admire his ambition, his confidence when it came to setting—when it came to being on the court. There was nowhere else he seemed to fit, no where else that deemed worthy of a man like him.

He was simply made to play volleyball, he was put on the planet to coordinate the team and help lead them to their respective victories. The drive he had was envious, admirable even to professionals that were years ahead of him in experience. 

But there was a catch, just as there always seemed to be a catch when things appear too perfect or other-worldly, as Miya Atsumu was considered the most egocentric man in all of Japan. 

Yes, his talent was astonishing and his looks trumped some of the most handsome men in the world, but he was a complete and utter narcissist to the public eye. A complete asshole in all senses of empathy. 

He was perhaps an enigma. A man that no one person could quite figure out. A total mystery to everyone but those close to him—to everyone but his twin-brother and the few teammates that he considered friends.

And it wasn’t that the public wanted to hate him, they wanted nothing more than to find a redeeming quality, something that would save his reputation—the ignorant reputation that he’d somehow managed to build himself over the course of his professional career.

Tabloids constantly had new headlines to publish, weekly reports on whatever star-born attitude Atsumu had acted on in public, during games, or even in the safety of the team’s after parties—parties that he’d rarely be found at.

The most common hate train would be the look he’d give the camera every time he so much as scored a point mid-match. The cocky, full of himself gaze to the viewers watching at home, as if to say that he was the real King of the Court. 

Holding up his hands in the shape of a heart, Atsumu would smile with a smug grin, teeth flashing white and sticking his tongue out dramatically. He’d hold the position for a few seconds, making sure that the camera got a good take of his face, before returning to the adrenaline rush of the game.

It was as if he became an even better player after his boastful routine, focusing on the game as if it was life or death, as if he would be ruined if they were to lose a single point—frightening the other team with one glance, one look forcing them to crumble underneath their own dead weight.

With his rare intimidating attitude, the Black Jackals had little to nothing to worry about when it came to their setter. He was reliable, always there to pick up the slack when all odds seemed to be against them—when the books refused to read in their favor.

And his teammates absolutely loved him, they knew him better than nearly anyone other than Osamu. When microphones and interviewers shoved misguided questions in their faces, they’d always defend him, as they were more than just players on the same side of the court—they were practically brothers.

So, when it’d be time to stay after the game to greet the fans, give them kisses on the cheek while the camera cemented their meeting in history, his friends paid no mind to how quickly Atsumu would rush out of the building. They’d pay no attention to how he’d refuse to entertain his fans, only stopping for one girl—one girl who’d offered him a bouquet of bright yellow daisies. 

“Thank you.” He’d mutter, nodding his head at the young girl before stalking off, ignoring how she fawned over the beauty of his facial features, obsessing over the way he’d just so much as acknowledged her existence. 

Pulling out of the stadium’s parking lot was always a big hassle, with the media and paparazzi awaiting his exit, video cameras taping his every move and step he took. There was zero privacy for him, every one of his secrets always seeming to be on film.

But Atsumu didn’t care, he didn’t mind running over a few parking cones, forcing the photographers to jump out of his car’s way, back onto the sidewalk where they belonged. He had absolutely no disregard for their safety according to the new’s titles.

As well as no respect to traffic laws. Speeding limits was a thing of the past in his mind, always going about twenty miles over, whether that was on a highway or neighborhood street. His life ran on double time, needing to be in a rush, a rush away from his duties.

His sports car headed north on the daily, never straying from its path, in pursuit of the same destination every day—every time he had the chance to escape the responsibilities of being a world-known athlete.

And though the world liked to act as if they knew everything about him, as if he was an open book whose chapters were updated every week, no one knew why Atsumu would spend so much time at the international hospital. Why he’d enter the building in the evenings and leave at dawn.

Even today, after the loss of a championship match, he wore the brightest smile on his face while holding a massive bouquet of yellow daisies—the flower that’d always accompany him through the blank grey walls of the healing center.

The grin would stay plastered, the expression reading ingenuity as he’d walk through the automatic doors, taking a final glance back to make sure that no one had followed him, before letting the facade crumble—before he let it dissolve into a somber frown. 

“Looking beautiful as always.” Atsumu laughed, waltzing up to the front desk, greeting his favorite worker as she rolled her eyes, passing him the check in sheet with a pointed look. “How’s my girl doing?”

The woman behind the counter took a deep breath, inspecting his signature to ensure that he hadn’t signed in the wrong place, before looking up to respond to his question—the same question that he asked her every day.

“Waiting for you.” She said, gesturing that everything was alright and he could proceed to the dual elevators that carried him to the top floor, the floor in which permanent residents stayed. “She’s up there waiting, just like she always is.”

Blowing the clerk a joking kiss, Atsumu carried on, holding the bouquet with a death grip, picking at the flowers to make sure that they looked their absolute best—that they deserved to be held in his favorite girl’s hands. 

Standing in the elevator, his heart dropped at each ding. It was a sound that he had never gotten used to, one that haunted him as he slept, taunting him as if to say that the minutes were counting down—the minutes losing their value, the minutes he had left with her decreasing. 

Despite how much he loathed the noise, how he wished he could shut it all off, make time stop just so he could have an infinite amount of moments by her side—he knew that life would come to the point in which he’d hear that sound one last time. A point in which he’d leave the building and never have a reason to return. 

As he approached the room he knew all too well, Atsumu brought his hand up to a light knock on the door, giving her a little heads up that he was there, that he didn’t forget about her even though he’d maintained his constant routine for months now. 

“Is that the famous Miya Atsumu I hear?” Y/N’s melodious voice called out, knowing all too well that her beloved boyfriend had arrived to harass her. Her already enlarged heart grew bigger at the sight of his brown eyes and golden hair that she’d always try to spot on the court.

While the world admired him for his physical beauty, she knew him for the beauty inside. The beauty that she was so blessed to see, the real personality that was reserved for her and her alone—not even Osamu had seen him so gentle, so caring. 

“Yer favorites,” he held out the bouquet to her in a regal manner, presenting it as if she were a queen and it was her crown. His dramatics sent her into a fit of giggles, accepting the flowers with a scoff as he rose up to press a soft kiss on her awaiting lips. 

“I saw you.” She whispered, pulling him down to meet her smile once more, relishing in the feeling of their love connecting. It was a feeling that she was addicted to, one that she longed for whenever he was away. “I saw you and the stupid little heart that you flash me on television.”

Atsumu helped her move over on the hospital bed, making enough room for him to lay down beside her as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his head resting on top of hers. “Stupid? You sound like the rest of ‘em.”

“No one would be calling it stupid if they knew what it meant.” He pinched her cheeks, puckering her lips to a pout and kissing her over and over again. “If they knew I only do it because I want my girl to be proud of me.”

He sighed, holding her as if she would disappear if he let go, his fear of losing her of greater importance than any public opinion or false story. His fears being valid and reasonable as neither of them knew how much time they had left—how much time they had left to be totally and completely in love. 

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