#this is a long almost nonsensical rant but I just want to express how different it is now

[gay-kurapika]

And I’ve realized that my roommate really was trying to come between my girlfriend and I time and time again. Those comments calling me bisexual were a clear reference to my girlfriend being trans and Jayne consistently calling me a girl even though I’d patiently explained being non-binary all the time, and I explained being a trans woman so many times that it’s ridiculous. She refused to acknowledge that the actual real relationships I had with people she didn’t see regularly, including my girlfriend, my family, my coworkers, and online friends weren’t real because I didn’t invite them over frequently, because to her relationships maintained long distance didn’t count, and I don’t believe that at all. Not to mention, my girlfriend has stated that Jayne made her uncomfortable, that she didn’t want to be around Jayne, and she had every reason to feel that way and that was a large part of why I kept our dates out of the house and I mostly have been calling her. Jayne wanted me to be isolated and she was misogynistic in general but especially transmisogynistic. My girlfriend has been wanting to see me for a while and I’m like actually finally comfortable having her at my house, like we’re probably going to see each other next week, largely because I’m actually now okay with having her here because I won’t be worried that Jayne is going to say or do something creepy or weird because she isn’t here. I just feel so free, in every part of my life now. I don’t think I totally realized how trapped I felt before until I started to feel like my actual self again. I feel like I’ve been a shadow of myself for a long time. This is maybe unrelated but I think it isn’t, but my sister came over to my place a few days ago and she said “it feels less tense here now, somehow. It’s relaxing.” And this was exactly how I was feeling. There isn’t junk and garbage and dog pee smell everywhere, I don’t have a sink full of dishes I didn’t make and a counter full of random crap that Jayne was hoarding, because she always had some new belonging. She would literally throw my stuff out and replace it with a bunch of useless crap and it drove insane sometimes, to see 5 new items she’d throw out in a week but I no longer had dishes or a toaster or a coffee pot or a popcorn maker or any of my Tupperware or my art or my cat toys or literally anything. I started to hide things in my room so I would still have them! She threw out pairs of my shoes, towels and washcloths, salt and pepper shakers, like as long as it was mine it was free game! One of the things she tossed when she trespassed between the court and now was the charger to my old laptop, weirdly enough. But just…there’s a different vibe now. It’s palpable.

[sevilemar]

Hi Sevi, anon ranting about media here. I swear I didn't forget or left it on read, I was taking some time to process your words. (This one's long)

First of all, thank you for responding and having this place in the Internet. I really hope it's fun to you and it didn't become something you think you should do, cause that would suck all the fun out of it.

I agree, first season of Witcher is pretty awesome, second season meh, but I still don't get where all of the hate was coming. My problem was them overvaluing Ciri, but oh well.

I like your idea about big thinkers and concrete thinkers. It puts more emphasis on pattern of thought then on how it's result looks like. I also like the change of words as someone who more or less doesn't see myself as having actual ideals, outside of maybe 'boundaries' and 'personal freedom'. But then again I think I would get stuck, as I don't care about affecting the most people, doing the most good etc. I would still vibe with the concrete thinker, what's the most important is in front of you, and how you understand the world sets a system to your actions, what you want to do and what type of person do you want to be. But that might be just me. Maybe I don't believe in affecting the most people and settled down on a few near me, who knows.

I can imagine doing almost everything for my two siblings, I think if I have my people, it's them. I don't even like to think about them doing something really deeply against my core values, I'd better do that myself in their place than watch them do it and then have to figure it out. But what does this fantasy reeking thought have to do with real life and searching for your own place? Not much, huh. What does it matter if I love my cat but don't have the funds to bring him to the vet? Nothing. And you're right about burnt lion secondary, although I'm sometimes wondering about burnt courtier badger as well. It doesn't matter what you value if you have no power to do anything about it.

My mother isn't in my circles, and it brings me a lot of pain to say it, but there's just a number of times you can hurt someone and pretend you are right and you don't see pain. Also, family should be a safe place to discus all kinds of ideas without judgment and fear. Naive, I know.

Why do you think discussing/ defending big picture things against your loved ones and family is used as a tell tale sign for idealists? I know that it's a common idea, but why exactly? To me it was just what people do, we can still disagree and defend our people against the world if needed. It doesn't mean I don't value them or value thoughts more, or that I don't care if I hurt them, but I want them at least to listen, to acknowledge the different side. Sure, it's about validation of my opinions as well. I had to listen to the world constantly telling me how stupid I am, was I the only one and nobody else got to listen to it? No, of course not, it's also emotional as well.

"Roaring truths into a void" such a pretty expression. Can I turn it around and say I'm the void now, and the world is roaring, it sure feels like that sometimes.

Sevi, thank you again for your time and I freaking hope that you find this nonsense interesting. If not, fork this. Have a nice week!

Hi nonny, sorry for leaving your answer for this long. Life happened, as it is wont to do, and I wasn't in the mood for shc.

It's weird for me as well to think about having ideals; I think of them more as behavioural guidelines to make my life easier. Things like 'leave a person or a space the same way you found them or better', or 'be polite/kind when you can', or things like that. It's practical advice to live a more positive life, tested in 30+ years of living, not something that's born out of a need to do good to others. And it's just for me, other people can do what they want. I wouldn't call these things ideals, not really.

I don't think it's helpful to put the standard definitions of ideals/idealist on the shc definitions, because that way, confusion lies. Here are Inky and Cat's defintions again, because I have also forgotten them over the years:

Idealists focus on concepts and truths and what is right and what is good. They are big picture thinkers and have moral drives that closest to what we think of when we think of typical moral drives: this is right because the most people benefit, this is wrong because people get hurt, this is gray so we have to look at the specifics. There is a system of rights and wrongs and in betweens and those things all matter. 

Loyalists care about people. Whether it’s a few people or a whole world of people, at the center of their moral system is to do what is best for those people.

The words they choose for the categories are confusing, and so is the false either/or thinking it often creates. I feel it's easier to think of it as having a different natural focus, hence big picture/concrete. Because big picture people also care very deeply about the people in front of them; they just naturally focus on the big picture to help. And concrete thinkers also see the benefits of big picture help, they just naturally focus on the people right in front of them first.

As for arguing about big picture or idealistic ideas with loved ones, I never felt the need. Why argue when you can learn instead? I know they're good people, so whatever they have thought a lot about and decided to believe in can't be too horribly wrong.

People who are wrong, who hold beliefs that are harmful to me or mine, they will sooner or later be a dick to us anyway, and that's my cue to avoid them. I do not feel the need to convince strangers of anything, and if it happens with my people, I will try if it's important enough, or just agree to disagree if it's not, and avoid the topic in the future. If they hurt me or mine because of it, I will downgrade them, or cast them out if I have to.

Another reason why I do not feel the need to argue about bigger picture things is that I more often than not genuinely don't see how my actions, or those of other people, affect bigger picture ideas/discourse/etc. That's probably just a me thing, but I simply do not see the world from that perspective.

I did not realise that 'leave a person the same or better than you found them and be kind when you can' could make the world a better place if everyone did it. It took a lion friend to point that out. Or how me ranting about my own asexual frustration with romance in media is just one side of a much bigger discourse about who is 'allowed' to even have a sexuality in media. It took a bird friend to show me.

I don't know if that's just me, nonny. But maybe, if you find yourself arguing about big picture things with your family often, then maybe either them, or you, or both have at least some idealist vibes going on. Especially if arguing about it hurts you as much as I think it might, based on your words. Because I know from experience that big picture people can only tolerate so many differences in the really important things. I think it's because disagreeing on these fundamental levels hurts them personally, at the core of who they are.

But then, being forced to argue about things a lot, and feeling like the other people do not even listen to you, would hurt anyone. It's one of the basic ways human beings show respect and appreciation, after all.

That does not mean that you cannot defend them against the world, or value them as a person. Believing in defending your family, no matter how imperfect, is definitely something a lot of people value, idealists and loyalists alike. And you definitely have a snake's exception for your siblings, which I think is incredibly cute, btw.

You're also right, family should be a place where people listen to each other, and where it's safe to try out new ideas if that's a thing you're interested in. But it's often not with the blood family you find this, but rather with a found one.

[an-asuryampasya]

[more language-y navel gazing, yes i'm back on this nonsense, welp. not a rant about hindi for once though! but shoving it under a cut anyway because i remember my manners.]

…oh. I just realised something a teensy bit concerning. you know all those posts about top ten german words to use in English? Or just now, I saw a tumblr poll on best yiddish word used often in english. Posts talking about words from other languages being used in english, but not in the sense of english words of foreign origin.

They're great! Sometimes a sentiment is best expressed by a word english just doesn't have and I, for one, am ALL for using them.

Thing is, I also do that with my own languages (side note, is this the first time in a long while I've called hindi 'mine'? Heh. To be clear, I rant a lot about the way hindi is presumed to be ubiquitous, but I have no quarrel with the language itself). Except I feel the urge to self-censor when I'm using telugu or hindi in that way. Admittedly that's primarily when I'm in company that won't understand the hindi/telugu addition, and it only started as a habit once I left my hometown and suddenly became acutely aware of how often I use telugu when english doesn't have a convenient conjunction (and the people I was with would have no idea why a random "ante" slipped into my sentence). I wouldn't say it's unjustified, since of course the whole point is to communicate and make myself comprehensible, but mhmm, the thing is.

I wouldn't hesitate to use a french phrase in my texts if I were reasonably certain about what it meant, but I never type a telugu phrase that way. Something about foreign languages makes them a-ok to use, but languages from my own part of the world being used that way? Feel like corruptions at worst, a quirk of being incorrigibly Indian at best. (incorrigible not being a word I use here lightly)

I... don't like this! Just earlier today I was thinking half-toying with the idea of making my tumblr header "no mohamats" which is based on a Telugu word, but I also almost immediately disregarded the notion because it'd be seen by folks unfamiliar with the language almost exclusively (heck, even irl, literally none of my friends would get the reference, but that's beside the point). ah, but when I see folks using french or german freely on tumblr? I don't bat an eye, I go on my way without questioning their choice. It's just when I use my languages, that I hesitate. tbh I'm more likely to use a latin phrase than a telugu one. I think the only exception I've ever made is my url (a telugu word), and that's because a lot of urls anyway don't make sense at first glance and most people skip reading them.

It's not just that no one would get the meaning - I'd not be comfortable with using german or make vague fandom references if that were the case, and practically every choice I've made for this and one of my sideblogs is all references to stuff i'm certain no one's picked up on yet. it's that telugu and hindi will flag me as a person I don't want to be on the interwebs. Because I am a long, long way from unlearning painful notions about english vs telugu as languages.

I'm trying to get more comfortable with being telugu on the internet. Now I automatically brace myself for negative takes or preempt them by cringing and dismissing them myself, when I see anything to do with my culture on the interwebs - it's a learned behavior and I'm trying to stop that. Or my speaking and texting language choices are very different - I say "ayyo" pretty frequently irl, but I never type it unless I'm poking fun at myself. I don't need to do that, especially when I'm talking to people who ARE familiar with ayyo already.

I'm. Trying to have fewer mohamatams about being Telugu - and here goes my first attempt! :) (mohamatam is a telugu word meaning hesitation, but in a specific way. out of self-consciousness, awkwardness or shyness, sort of? As in, as a guest you might experience mohamatam/hesitate to impose on your host and insist on specific food, but it wouldn't be mohamatam if you hesitate to jump while bungee-jumping. It can probably be explained much better because it's actually a VERY useful word that sees a /lot/ of use, but also bleh, that's not the point of this post. In this case, just know that it's a word that nicely encapsulates a specific sentiment that english lacks the term for.)

I do hope I'm eventually more comfortable with being telugu outside of telugu spaces, but uh, no saying how long it'll take to get there, oof.

[imaginarybestie]

Need a new substitute friend

Dear P,

D has started acting really obnoxious and wrong and cruel and cold. Accusatory, dismissive and wongfully insulting me, my character, trying to stifle and choke my ability to express important things. Mocking and belittling some of the things that I hold most dear, my core self and passions and truths. My personality too. And I don't feel like I can put up with him anymore. He's not a healthy person for me to be around, it seems.

I guess I almost feel like I should have realized it before, long ago even. But there was always just enough doubt, and enough hope, that I thought maybe he was ok. Maybe I could put up with his wrong behaviors and it would be worth it because of the good things about him. The fact that he was one of the few people in that group we're in who wasn't overly positive and falsely idealistic. He was one of the few people there who didn't fall into line with some kind of pre-set ideology that is full of complacency, denial, judgmental attitudes, or self-destructive nonsense.

Even though there is a lot of good and positive ideas on that community, the truth is there's also a whole lot of nonsense, delusion, cruel attitudes and judgmental ideas. I really hate to read a lot of what is written there, a lot of the time. I have to be selective about what I read and how much I read, in order to make sure that I focus on what will uplift and give me insights, and not what makes me feel judged, triggered, disgusted and disillusioned by yet more ignorant, cruel people.

I really think the people there aren't so mean, in and of themselves, necessarily, because probably in real life, they're ok. They do hold a lot of good ideas, kind behaviors, and so on. But there are parts of their ideologies that are just ridiculous and wrong and distressing to even think about. Yet I keep going there because of the good things I find there that I don't find anywhere else, so far, and so I try to skim out the good from the bad and focus on that.

But it was a little easier to do with David as a friend, because he wasn't quite so blind and brainwashed with all that. Yet, he seemed to be brainwashed in his own way, his own self-created ideology of victimhood, a whole storyline that repeated itself over and over in different variations. He didn't usually turn it on me too directly, so I was able to ignore it. But it's not surprising that he eventually did turn it toward me, and now I have to face the music.

He's not a good friend for me, anymore, and not only that, but I'll probably feel like I need to just completely ignore him for my mental health, while he goes of the rails on his little rants that are indirectly pointed at me or just remnd me of our confrontations that we've now had. Ugh. It could really be triggering and traumatizing to me, with all my history of friendships gone wrong and no one in the world I can count on enough, to be there in all the ways I desperately need, not just my kid, not just God, not just narcissistic husbands or cold, distant family members.

I need real, deep friends, and this situation with David is another reminder of yet another failed "friendship" (not that what D and I had was ever quite a real friendship, just online weirdness, so-called friends who really don't know each other well enough or in a diverse enough range of circumstances to really tell if we have enough in common or can really trust the other, etc. More like casual friend or illusory friend, but still, it felt like friendship, for a little while). So I want someone else who can be a substitute imaginary friend to take the place of David, if I can find and think of a good one. Just wanted to confide all this in you, P.

Love, C

[qqueenofhades]

Hi. I’m curious. What did you mean by “women who read fiction might get Bad Ideas!!!” has just reached its latest and stupidest form via tumblr purity culture.? I haven’t seen any of this but I’m new to tumblr.

Oh man. You really want to get me into trouble on, like, my first day back, don’t you?

Pretty much all of this has been explained elsewhere by people much smarter than me, so this isn’t necessarily going to say anything new, but I’ll do my best to synthesize and summarize it. As ever, it comes with the caveat that it is my personal interpretation, and is not intended as the be-all, end-all. You’ll definitely run across it if you spend any time on Tumblr (or social media in general, including Twitter, and any other fandom-related spaces). This will get long.

In short: in the nineteenth century, when Gothic/romantic literature became popular and women were increasingly able to read these kinds of novels for fun, there was an attendant moral panic over whether they, with their weak female brains, would be able to distinguish fiction from reality, and that they might start making immoral or inappropriate choices in their real life as a result. Obviously, there was a huge sexist and misogynistic component to this, and it would be nice to write it off entirely as just hysterical Victorian pearl-clutching, but that feeds into the “lol people in the past were all much stupider than we are today” kind of historical fallacy that I often and vigorously shut down. (Honestly, I’m not sure how anyone can ever write the “omg medieval people believed such weird things about medicine!” nonsense again after what we’ve gone through with COVID, but that is a whole other rant.) The thinking ran that women shouldn’t read novels for fear of corrupting their impressionable brains, or if they had to read novels at all, they should only be the Right Ones: i.e., those that came with a side of heavy-handed and explicit moralizing so that they wouldn’t be tempted to transgress. Of course, books trying to hammer their readers over the head with their Moral Point aren’t often much fun to read, and that’s not the point of fiction anyway. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

Fast-forward to today, and the entire generation of young, otherwise well-meaning people who have come to believe that being a moral person involves only consuming the “right” kind of fictional content, and being outrageously mean to strangers on the internet who do not agree with that choice. There are a lot of factors contributing to this. First, the advent of social media and being subject to the judgment of people across the world at all times has made it imperative that you demonstrate the “right” opinions to fit in with your peer-group, and on fandom websites, that often falls into a twisted, hyper-critical, so-called “progressivism” that diligently knows all the social justice buzzwords, but has trouble applying them in nuance, context, and complicated real life. To some extent, this obviously is not a bad thing. People need to be critical of the media they engage with, to know what narratives the creator(s) are promoting, the tropes they are using, the conclusions that they are supporting, and to be able to recognize and push back against genuinely harmful content when it is produced – and this distinction is critical – by professional mainstream creators. Amateur, individual fan content is another kettle of fish. There is a difference between critiquing a professional creator (though social media has also made it incredibly easy to atrociously abuse them) and attacking your fellow fan and peer, who is on the exact same footing as you as a consumer of that content.

Obviously, again, this doesn’t mean that you can’t call out people who are engaging in actually toxic or abusive behavior, fans or otherwise. But certain segments of Tumblr culture have drained both those words (along with “gaslighting”) of almost all critical meaning, until they’re applied indiscriminately to “any fictional content that I don’t like, don’t agree with, or which doesn’t seem to model healthy behavior in real life” and “anyone who likes or engages with this content.” Somewhere along the line, a reactionary mindset has been formed in which the only fictional narratives or relationships are those which would be “acceptable” in real life, to which I say��. what? If I only wanted real life, I would watch the news and only read non-fiction. Once again, the underlying fear, even if it’s framed in different terms, is that the people (often women) enjoying this content can’t be trusted to tell the difference between fiction and reality, and if they like “problematic” fictional content, they will proceed to seek it out in their real life and personal relationships. And this is just… not true.

As I said above, critical media studies and thoughtful consumption of entertainment are both great things! There have been some great metas written on, say, the Marvel Cinematic Universe and how it is increasingly relying on villains who have outwardly admirable motives (see: the Flag Smashers in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) who are then stigmatized by their anti-social, violent behavior and attacks on innocent people, which is bad even as the heroes also rely on violence to achieve their ends. This is a clever way to acknowledge social anxieties – to say that people who identify with the Flag Smashers are right, to an extent, but then the instant they cross the line into violence, they’re upsetting the status quo and need to be put down by the heroes. I watched TFATWS and obviously enjoyed it. I have gone on a Marvel re-watching binge recently as well. I like the MCU! I like the characters and the madcap sci-fi adventures! But I can also recognize it as a flawed piece of media that I don’t have to accept whole-cloth, and to be able to criticize some of the ancillary messages that come with it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.

When it comes to shipping, moreover, the toxic culture of “my ship is better than your ship because it’s Better in Real Life” ™ is both well-known and in my opinion, exhausting and pointless. As also noted, the whole point of fiction is that it allows us to create and experience realities that we don’t always want in real life. I certainly enjoy plenty of things in fiction that I would definitely not want in reality: apocalyptic space operas, violent adventures, and yes, garbage men. A large number of my ships over the years have been labeled “unhealthy” for one reason or another, presumably because they don’t adhere to the stereotype of the coffee-shop AU where there’s no tension and nobody ever makes mistakes or is allowed to have serious flaws. And I’m not even bagging on coffee-shop AUs! Some people want to remove characters from a violent situation and give them that fluff and release from the nonstop trauma that TV writers merrily inflict on them without ever thinking about the consequences. Fanfiction often focuses on the psychology and healing of characters who have been through too much, and since that’s something we can all relate to right now, it’s a very powerful exercise. As a transformative and interpretive tool, fanfic is pretty awesome.

The problem, again, comes when people think that fic/fandom can only be used in this way, and that going the other direction, and exploring darker or complicated or messy dynamics and relationships, is morally bad. As has been said before: shipping is not activism. You don’t get brownie points for only having “healthy” ships (and just my personal opinion as a queer person, these often tend to be heterosexual white ships engaging in notably heteronormative behavior) and only supporting behavior in fiction that you think is acceptable in real life. As we’ve said, there is a systematic problem in identifying what that is. Ironically, for people worried about Women Getting Ideas by confusing fiction and reality, they’re doing the same thing, and treating fiction like reality. Fiction is fiction. Nobody actually dies. Nobody actually gets hurt. These people are not real. We need to normalize the idea of characters as figments of a creator’s imagination, not actual people with their own agency. They exist as they are written, and by the choice of people whose motives can be scrutinized and questioned, but they themselves are not real. Nor do characters reflect the author’s personal views. Period.

This feeds into the fact that the internet, and fandom culture, is not intended as a “safe space” in the sense that no questionable or triggering content can ever be posted. Archive of Our Own, with its reams of scrupulous tagging and requests for you to explicitly click and confirm that you are of age to see M or E-rated content, is a constant target of the purity cultists for hosting fictional material that they see as “immoral.” But it repeatedly, unmistakably, directly asks you for your consent to see this material, and if you then act unfairly victimized, well… that’s on you. You agreed to look at this, and there are very few cases where you didn’t know what it entailed. Fandom involves adults creating contents for adults, and while teenagers and younger people can and do participate, they need to understand this fact, rather than expecting everything to be a PG Disney movie.

When I do write my “dark” ships with garbage men, moreover, they always involve a lot of the man being an idiot, being bluntly called out for an idiot, and learning healthier patterns of behavior, which is one of the fundamental patterns of romance novels. But they also involve an element of the woman realizing that societal standards are, in fact, bullshit, and she can go feral every so often, as a treat. But even if I wrote them another way, that would still be okay! There are plenty of ships and dynamics that I don’t care for and don’t express in my fic and fandom writing, but that doesn’t mean I seek out the people who do like them and reprimand them for it. I know plenty of people who use fiction, including dark fiction, in a cathartic way to process real-life trauma, and that’s exactly the role – one of them, at least – that fiction needs to be able to fulfill. It would be terribly boring and limited if we were only ever allowed to write about Real Life and nothing else. It needs to be complicated, dark, escapist, unreal, twisted, and whatever else. This means absolutely zilch about what the consumers of this fiction believe, act, or do in their real lives.

Once more, I do note the misogyny underlying this. Nobody, after all, seems to care what kind of books or fictional narratives men read, and there’s no reflection on whether this is teaching them unhealthy patterns of behavior, or whether it predicts how they’ll act in real life. (There was some of that with the “do video games cause mass shootings?”, but it was a straw man to distract from the actual issues of toxic masculinity and gun culture.) Certain kinds of fiction, especially historical fiction, romance novels, and fanfic, are intensely gendered and viewed as being “women’s fiction” and therefore hyper-criticized, while nobody’s asking if all the macho-man potboiler military-intrigue tough-guy stereotypical “men’s fiction” is teaching them bad things. So the panic about whether your average woman on the internet is reading dark fanfic with an Unhealthy Ship (zomgz) is, in my opinion, misguided at best, and actively destructive at worst.

[lottiebagley]

Family Reunions- George Weasley

Three years imagining a life together Love your family more than we loved each other I said I’d keep in touch and I did But the more we keep in touch, the more I miss him

The second she enters her small flat she can feel her entire world shatter around her. Leaning her back against the door as she sinks to the ground, head dropping into her hands as she wipes furiously at her eyes, trying to push the tears back in.

Once a week she had attended dinner at the burrow, it was nice, good to see Molly and Arthur and whichever kids were around, of course George was never there, the date marked in his calendar in a red pen reminder to not go home that day. To sleep and eat at the flat.

The family had been heartbroken to hear that he had broken up with his girlfriend, after the war he had committed all his time to helping Fred. His twin needed every last bit of his attention, helping with his physical therapy and his dwindling mental state and so George's relationship had taken a back seat. She hadn't minded, in fact she had understood, she even committed herself to helping too.

But a year after George decided to call things off, Fred was better, he was walking and he was happier and he was working again. It was the perfect time for him to focus on his relationship, after all the girl had proven herself time and time again. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe it was that he felt like he needed a minute alone.

Maybe it was the feeling that she was so much better than him. Maybe it was his mother's constant talks of rings and weddings. He wasn't quite sure but all of a sudden he felt like he was suffocating.

He sat her down in his bedroom in the flat. Explained that she wasn't the one and it didn't feel right anymore. He had watched as she cried and had attempted to comfort her only for her to push him away, fleeing his flat leaving a baffled Fred on the living room sofa, television on in front of him, wondering why the girl who may as well be a sister just left the flat in floods of tears.

George still visions his mother's face when he closes his eyes, the look on her face when he told her he ended his relationship. He remembers her disappointment. He remembers his brothers shock. He remembers his dad's sad sigh. He remembers his sister's passionate rant about how he never deserved her anyway.

As the girl cries on her hallway floor she vows that she will stop. Stop seeing the Weasley's. Not because she doesn't love them with every fibre of her being but because she couldn't handle the heart break. Couldn't keep sitting at their dinner table without his hand on her knee. Couldn't keep sitting on the swing set without him laughing and pushing her. Couldn't keep helping Molly clean plates without him sat on the counter teasing her.

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I love talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find the words to express The way that I wish I was the one But friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

Her resolve to stop seeing the Weasley's was gone by the next morning.

She woke up to a missed call from Charlie and called back, chattering away about his upcoming trip home as she got ready.

She arrived at her job at the ministry and met up with Hermione for coffee, deciding that when she eventually cut her ties she would keep Hermione. The girl was like a younger sister, although so was Ginny, but she figured one last tie to the family, someone to hear their news from would do no harm.

Arthur knocked on her office door in his lunch break, bringing with him sandwiches made by Molly and asking her to eat with him and she didn't have the heart to say no, so instead they ate in her office and talked merrily about the infestation of singing sunglasses he was dealing with today.

As she left her office she received a phone call from Ginny, who ranted about how annoying Harry was being and how now she had graduated and was training she felt like she had no time to focus on her relationship.

It was after she assured the girl that her and Harry were meant to be as she walked through the Leaky Cauldron she knew what she had to do.

She got a flat above a bookshop on Diagon Alley simply to be near George and now everyday, walking past his store, felt like torture. She hadn't been in the store, she'd avoided it like the plague even when Fred asked her to come and hang out with him and George wasn't working. So as she walked into the atmospheric shop her heart felt like it was sinking in her chest.

"Hey sweetheart, you all okay?" Fred asks with a bright grin, he's leaning on his cane for support and eyeing the door.

She could cry looking at him. Not just because he looks identical to the man who fell out of love with her and she still pined desperately for. No. Today the tears she blinks back are practically grief, she knew that, realistically, she would see Fred around, but she wouldn't be able to call him a friend anymore.

"I uh- could I speak to George?" she questions, Fred smiles gently, noticing her pained tone.

"Yeah, of course, you can go on up," he assures. She nods shooting him a small smile, but pauses on the stairs.

"Hey Freddie,"

"Yeah,"

"I want you to know that I am really proud of you, of the shop and of how much better you are and I mean when I first met you who'd have thought you'd end up here. I just-well I love you and I am really proud," She blinks back tears as she speaks, almost wishing she would get a chance to say a goodbye to all the Weasley's.

Fred smiles gently, somewhere in him he can tell, tell that this is goodbye and he's about to loose a friend.

"I love you too sweetheart, just remember no matter what that I am always going to be here for you,"

They share eye contact for a moment, both knowing and not saying it. Fred understood, he can only imagine how hard it must be to still be a part of his family's lives after George. He knew the girl in front of him loved his twin brother more than anything, he knew that deep down George loved her just as much, and yet here Fred stands, a silent goodbye hanging in the air.

Phone calls Sweet notes All the little things I used to love Now they just remind me that I was never enough We said we’d keep in touch and I tried But the more we keep in touch, the less I move on in life

"Hey George," she speaks quietly, standing in the hallway of his flat as he stands staring at her shock.

It's been a month since he saw her and his heart leaps at the sight of her, at her standing there with a small smile and teary eyes and a pencil skirt and blazer and messy hair and she's just her. She is her and it's everything he's been missing. He wonders as he stares at her how he ever thought that she wasn't the one. That she wasn't perfect. That she wasn't made for him.

Her own eyes are wide, seeing him sparking something in her that she didn't even know existed. He's shirtless, a white towel wrapped around his hips and his hair damp from the shower he just clearly had. Her eyes scan his toned chest, his broad shoulders, the light sprinkles of freckles. His scent, his cinnamon body wash, is so strong that it practically invades her body and she could scream and cry and all she wants is to kiss him.

"Oh-shit-hi. Is everything alright?" He's worried to see her, had someone died? Was she okay? Merlin, he wanted her to be happy more than anything in the world.

"Hey," she speaks quietly, backing a way a little when he tries to move closer, not wanting to be close enough that she could reach out and touch him.

"You said that already," he teases gently, testing the waters.

"I'm sorry- I-" she cuts herself off, not sure how to say anything that she wants to

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," he comforts her gently "Why don't you go sit down, I'll get dressed and come, just give me a minute," he offers, she nods her head slowly.

When he enters the living room it feels natural. Seeing her sat on his sofa waiting for him feels right. He thinks for a second about how it could all be different. How he could be in pyjamas and she could be in one of his shirts, how he would jump on her and laugh when she tells him he is squashing her, how he'd have held her as they watch a film and make-out and he'd cook for her and they'd drink wine and enjoy a blissful Friday evening, wrapped up in each other.  

"You're all dressed up. Going anywhere nice?" she questions, eyes scanning his white dress shirt and jeans.

"The Italian, the one in Camden town,"

"With the little dog and the red wine?" she questions, George lets out a laugh at the memory of the time he took her there, it was a month after the war, thinking back it was probably the last time he took her out. He got so busy with Fred and the shop and she'd not been a priority when he knew she should have been, she never seemed to mind though.

"That's the one,"

"So, it's a date," she smiles gently, heart splintering in her chest

"Uh, yeah. Yeah it is," he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly

"That's great, do I know her?"

"Angelina," He admits quietly. She nods, forcing a smile.

"That's great George, I'm really happy for you. I'm sorry to disturb you-"

"No!" he cuts her off a little too eagerly, a little too happy to see her. "No, you are fine being here. I want to help with whatever is happening," he assures her

"Right, well I won't keep you long," she nods awkwardly

"Hush, none of that nonsense, take all the time you need," he reassures her, sitting down next to her on the sofa but keeping a respectful distance apart.

"So-well- I know that this is-" she cuts herself off with a sigh "Sorry, this is just...awkward,"

"Hey, it's just me. You can say anything," He moves his hand to place it gently on her knee, his heart stops at the way she gently pulls her leg away.

"I need you to tell your family to stop talking to me,"

"What?" he snaps, suddenly quite offended. "My family have been nothing but kind to you and-"

"Christ! it's not like that!" she gasps, he sighs

"Then what?"

"I can't be a part of their lives anymore. I know it sounds so selfish and I wish it was different but- George- I love your family. I really do. I just- being around them hurts. It kills me. It makes me want to just drop dead because every time I talk to them I think of you. Being in your house I can feel you and- I- it hurts. It hurts too much," She admits it in a tired whisper, George feels his heart break at the thought of her heartbroken because of him.

"Okay. I'll talk to them," he speaks quietly, she nods and stands.

"Goodbye George,"

"I'll see you around?" he asks quietly, the thought of this being it makes his heart hurt. When his family were stealing seeing him all the time it wasn't as bad, he always knew what was happening in her life. This, this was final.

"Yeah. Yeah maybe,"

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I’ll miss talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find the words to express The way you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

For the next six months George hears nothing. Without his family seeing her he has no idea how she is, if she's okay, if she's happier now. He lays up at night thinking about her and wishing he could turn back time.

She hears scraps, staying in touch with Hermione, she knows about Ron in depth, hears bits and pieces about the rest of the family. Too awkward to ask if George is okay, if he's happier without her, if he's with Angelina now.

Bill receives a card when his little girl is born but she doesn't pick up the phone when he calls her. Fred gets a text message when he finishes his physical therapy but when he replies it's left on delivered. Ginny swears up and down that she saw her in the stands of her first professional quidditch game but can't prove it.

So, with dread filling her body and curses at her nephew flying in her mind she enters Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She's hoping to go unseen by the twins, they had staff now and maybe they would never have to find out her annoyingly loveable nephew wanted a reusable swamp for his 12th birthday and absolutely nothing else would do.

"Hello, welcome to Weasley's Wizard- oh, hi," George's voice sounds anxious when he snaps his head up to see her standing like a deer in the headlights in the almost empty shop.

"Hey,"

"Is everything alright?" George wonders if the way his mind automatically jumps to something awful having happened because of the war or because he can't think of any other reason after everything he put her through that she would want to be anywhere near him.

"It's Max's birthday next week," she announces

"Yeah. 12, right?" George questions with a lopsided grin. He adored her nephew, the kid as giggly and energetic and just like him and Fred were as kids. He also loved the way she was around kids.

"Yeah," she confirms, surprised he remembers. "He, uh, started school,"

"Made Gryffindor I'm sure," George smiles, it's the first genuine smile he's let out in weeks

"Yeah. The first thing he said when he saw me at Christmas was that I just had to tell uncle George, didn't shut up about you once. I didn't have the heart to tell him we broke up so..." she trails off.

"He's a good kid,"

"He is. Professor McGonogall isn't quite so set on him,"

"Nah, she always loves the trouble makers," George smirks

"That's true," She smiles gently "Anyway, so he wants a portable swamp and nothing else instead for his birthday, so," she trails off once more, gesturing to herself.

"Well of course," George grins, pushing himself off the front desk that he had been resting on and striding across the shop floor to grab one. He grabs a basket, walking around the floor and plucking any product he thinks the kid might like, even a few unreleased things from the back room before returning to where she is standing at the front till with a small smile on her face.

"George-" she starts, he shushes her immediately.

"I'll gift wrap them for you," he announces, placing the full basket on the till

"You don't have to that," she protests but he laughs

"Actually, I kinda do. You are the worst at wrapping gifts," he teases making her smile.

"You got me there," she admits

"Yeah. So, how've you been," He begins scanning products through the till and wrapping them with ease

"Uh good. I got a promotion-"

"Wow! that's fantastic, and so well deserved,"

"How would you know?" She blushes as she speaks, not looking at the boy

"I do read the paper y'know? What is it now 100 war criminals you have single handedly found," he bolsters, she'd always wanted to be an auror but becoming so high up that she reported directly to the minister and had a big fancy office was only in her wildest dreams until now.

"What about you? How's things?" she questions

"They're good. Shop's going great and Fred's only getting better by the day. Little Victorie is so perfect and yeah life is, well, it's good," He can't bring himself to say that as much as everything is perfect he can't find it in him to be happy without her by his side.

"And Angelina?"

"We decided we were way better as friends. You dating?"

"I'm married to the job," she shrugs, not wanting to say she doubted she would ever fall in love again without him.

"I get that," he nods, placing the pile of wrapped up parcels into bags. He physically laughs when she grabs her purse and begins to gather money

"Sweetheart, you're not paying for any of this. I only rang it through the till because we have to stock management,"

"George, that is so kind but I can-"

"Yes you can, if it makes you feel better stick my name on a couple of the tags alright?"

"I will, I promise that I will," she nods, taking the bags from his hand "Thank you,"

"No bother. Give Max my best, yeah?" He smiles, she nods and he watches as she leaves the store, his heart that he hadn't even realised was practically beaming dulls back down when she goes.

Tell your mom to stop sending me recipes she finds on the internet And when your brother wins homecoming king

I won’t be there to witness it And when you find the words to express the way you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

"You busy?" Hermione leans in the doorway of her office

"I can make a couple minutes, what's up? We had coffee three days ago," she reminds as the brunette steps into the office, closing the door behind her and settling in the seat across the desk.

"I know and I wanted to ask then but I couldn't bring myself to it because I feel so bad asking," Hermione explains, twisting the diamond ring on her finger anxiously.

"'Mione, you can ask me anything. You know that if it's physically possible I'll do it," she assures, putting the papers she had been reading down to give her friend undivided attention.

"You're one of my best friends," Hermione states

"And you're one of mine," The girl nods, eyebrows furrowed in concern

"And when somebody does something big in their life they want their best friends there,"

"Hermione what ever you need I'm there. 100%"

"Big things like getting married. I'm getting married, you know that, I mean to say Ron and I have picked a date and it's four months away and we are getting married at the burrow in a marquee by the lake. I know it's a lot to ask of you. I mean it's not just some ex, it's George, and I know how hard it's been for you without him and I hate myself for asking. And it's not just seeing him it's being there, I mean you fell in love with him there and it's not just him it's all of them and I understand if you say no, but, I want you there," Hermione rambles

"Of course," She speaks without thinking, never would she not attend her friends wedding "Hermione, I would love nothing more than to be there,"

"Really?" Hermione beams

"Merlin, 'Mione did you think for a second I wouldn't come, it's your wedding,"

Love them like they are my own But I don’t think I’ll ever move on If you don’t , If  you don't

It had been the most obvious thing in the world to say yes when Hermione asked, but now, standing in a stupid, but undeniably beautiful, pale blue bridesmaid dress she felt nervous. Hermione had insisted she had no obligation to see the Weasley's until the wedding day, she knew how her friends heart ached for not just George but the whole family, and wanted to make the whole thing as painless as possible.

But now, standing in the empty kitchen the morning of the wedding, the girl wondered how to breathe. She arrived by floo powder, already changed and ready like Hermione had instructed as she was getting ready with her muggle family.

She wasn't sure what she expected but it wasn't the empty, quiet room she was standing in.

She lets out a sigh, blinking back tears, the scent feeling like coming home.

"Sweetie, how are you?" She hadn't even realised Molly had entered the room from the back door until the familiar woman is pulling her into a hug.

"I'm okay, how are you?" she questions as Molly pulls away. If it were anyone else Molly would have rushed away, much too busy with preparations, but it wasn't. Molly loved the kids her children brought home in her life like her own, she missed the girl but understood that she needed space. One look at the tears in her eyes tells Molly that right now she needs to be here.

"I'm good. We are all good," Molly assures, gently guiding the girl to sit. "Now, tell me honestly, how are you?

"I'm just sorry," She admits, voice cracking and tears spilling onto her cheeks. "You must all hate me,"

"Sweetie, no one here hates you, not even for a second. We adore you," she assures, rubbing the girl's shoulder comfortingly

"All of you were always so welcoming and kind and then I just stop speaking to you all. I was so rude and I'm so sorry. Merlin, I didn't even tell you myself I made George do it,"

"None of that. You don't have to be sorry. We are the sorry ones. My son broke your heart and we were all wrapped up in loving you and wanting to be part of your life that we didn't stop to think how hard it would be for you. To be here and to talk to us. You needed to heal, no one is mad at you. We just miss you, and when or if you ever want to come back you will be welcomed with open arms," Molly assures her, grabbing a tissue to dab the girls cheeks dry.

"I missed you so much Molly," she sighs

"I missed you too dear, and I know George misses you,"

"I miss him. Every day I miss him,"

The moment is cut short when Charlie strides in through the front door "Thought I smelt trouble," He beams, wrapping his arms around the girl "Come help me with the daises, Hermione wants like a thousand and Perce is useless,"  He informs, an arm wrapped around her shoulder. She looks almost anxious and he rubs her shoulder gently "He's upstairs with Ron," he whispers gently

"You're welcome to go and speak to him if you'd rather," Molly informs, she wanted her son to be back with the girl more than anything.

"It's okay I'm happy to help,"

"Thank Merlin, I'd strangle Percy if you aren't there to stop me,"

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I’ll miss talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find words to express The way that I wish I was the one But friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

"I saw mum put you to work earlier," George's voice calls through the dark night air. She's sat in the tree house in the garden, the wedding a small distance away.

"I never mind," she shrugs as she watched him climb the ladder, he sits down next to her, legs dangling over the edge next to hers.

"Thought I'd find you here," He comments, he had built the tree house one summer when they couldn't get a minute alone. It was the first summer she spent there, between 4th and 5th year, she fell in love with him in that tree house.

"Just needed a minute," she sighs

"Yeah. It's beautiful but it's kind of a lot,"

"Weddings when you're depressingly single are often a lot," she shrugs, he chuckles at that.

"I have no clue how you are single," He comments, eyes trained on the starry sky above them

"Well, you dumped me so," she teases, a light laugh in her voice. He rolls his eyes, bumping his body to hers, for the first time since the breakup she doesn't move away from his touch. Not wanting to waste the opportunity but also not wanting to push her he settles for pressing his leg next to hers, her foot wraps around his leg holding him close to her without her even noticing, it's second nature, instinctive.

"I'm serious. You're so incredibly kind, and funny, and smart and good in bed," he adds the last one as a joke, laughing when she playfully swats his arm "and I mean, look at you right now, you're like a fucking goddess. You always are. How had no one swept you up?" He questions, and he means every word of it.

"Honestly?" she questions

"Always,"

"They've tried. I mean boys ask me out or try and get with me, but- I- well I never say yes, it's not fair to go on a date with someone when you're in love with someone else,"  She admits, she is staring straight ahead, not looking at him, so she misses the grin that brightens his face.

"That's why Angelina and I decided on friends," he admits, she hums in response not sure what to say. A comfortable silence falls over them, the sound of music from the party the only thing filling the air.

"You wanna dance?"he asks suddenly

"Sure," she agrees, he jumps down from the tree house, it's a little stupid but not unsafe and they've done it a thousand times before. She follows suit and his hands grab her waist to steady her when she stumbles a little in her heels.

He keeps his hands there, pulling her closer to him as hers wrap around his neck.

"Always thought you looked so good in blue," he admits as his thumb strokes her waist, the silky material soft under his grip. "Like a princess," he adds

"Always thought you looked so good in a suit," she grins, blushing a little as he twirls her around

"I miss you," he hums out, pulling her back closer this time, her head resting on his chest.

"I miss you," she returns.

"Y'know I never stopped loving you. Not even for a second. I regret it. More than anything," he's practically whispering and his heart stops when she stills in his arms.

"I can't do this," She whispers, tugging herself from his arms

"Darling-"

"No. George, I love you, more than anything. So I can't. It's your little brother's wedding and you are lonely and you are all mixed up and we haven't seen each other in so long and weddings, merlin weddings, they confuse everything and I can't. I can't do this one last night thing. I'm sorry,"

Before George can reply, can tell her that she's so far from right she's turned around and is speeding back towards the party.

Tell your mom to stop sending me recipes she finds on the internet And when your brother wins homecoming king I won’t be there to witness it And when you find the words to express That you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

She pulls her apartment door open a week after the wedding, surprised to see George Weasley a determined look in his eyes and soaking wet from the rain.

"George,"

"Hi. I need to talk to you," he doesn't seem nervous, he seems like there's a fire in his belly, a determination, a purpose, a need.

"Oh, sure. Come in," She moves aside, letting him in. "The living area is at the end of the hall. I'll go grab a towel," she directs.

He looks around the living area, it's open plan to the kitchen and it's cosy. Full of pictures and little trinkets, it is fundamentally her and his he feels more at home there despite having never been before than he does in his own flat.

She re-enters, throwing a fluffy baby pink towel at George before heading into the kitchen, grabbing an extra mug having been in the process of making tea when he arrived, and fixing them both a tea how they like it.

"So, you wanted to talk?" she prompts, sitting crosslegged on the couch, her fuzzy pjs and messy hair so domestic and beautiful he would marry her on the spot to get to see her like that every day.

"You said that you didn't want to do one last night, well, I don't either. It wasn't wedding goggles making me look at you different. I am in love with you. So, in love with you that being without you makes it hard to breathe and I want you back, not just for a night but for the rest of my life," He thinks he should be nervous but he's not. It's her. He could never be nervous with her.

"George, that makes no sense why would you-"

"Listen, I have never felt good enough for you. The whole time I've known you it was like you were so above me and I could never be on your level, no matter what happened you were always perfect. You were, and are, too good for me,"

"George, I have never been-" she starts but he cuts her off

"I had to help Fred. He is my twin brother, my best friend. He nearly died and I was terrified. He was nearly crushed to death and I realised I could loose him, I could loose anyone I loved. That included you, obviously, and that's how it started. I was scared to be with you because if I lost you I couldn't cope. I couldn't survive. So I started pushing you away. But you. Merlin, you're so good that it didn't matter. I pushed you away and I was wrong to do that but you didn't waver for a second. It was my responsibility to help Fred. To go to physical therapy with him. To hold him when he cried. To be there no matter. I would have done it no matter what. But you. You didn't have to do that. But you did. You didn't complain. You didn't walk away. You helped fix Fred even when I was being crappy to you," He rants

"George, I loved you and I still do. I would have done anything you asked me to, I still would. But I didn't help Fred because of you. I didn't do it for you. Not cause I was too good. I helped Fred because he's been my friend since I was 11. I helped Fred for Fred. Not for you," She explains, George sighs.

"I know. I just was in this state right? I was scared to loose you and you've always been too good for me and I just didn't know what to do. Then, Fred was getting better, and I felt empty. I wanted Fred happy and healthy of course but I'd become so used to spending all my time trying to fix things, trying to keep everyone afloat. It felt like everything stopped. Like no one needed me. I became obsessed with things I could. I couldn't fix you, I couldn't fix us, because nothing needed fixing. You were so perfect for me that I didn't need to fix it. That scared me. The more I thought about it the more I realised if I lost you, no one could fix me, I couldn't loose you but I wasn't good enough for you. It had to be me. My terms. My breakup. It was stupid, but that was I hadn't lost you I'd given you up and that was better," he explains, tears flooding her cheeks as she suddenly understands everything that's been happening for the past months.

"Georgie, you never needed to be scared. I'm not going anywhere, I promise,"

"I know. I'm sorry that I hurt you,"

"George, I love you,"

"I love you darling, more than anything," he smiles

"So another go?" she questions timidly

"If you'll have me," he nods, she grins. Hands shoving his shoulder's back to lay against the sofa, knees on either side of his waist. Her lips touch his for the first time in months and it's like they can breathe again.

They lay side by side in her bed that night, bare skin pressed to each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible.

"Can we stay here all day tomorrow? I just wanna lay with you," she speaks tiredly, her head on his chest

"Ron and Hermione get home from the honeymoon tomorrow," George informs, she moves her head to look at him "We have a dinner thing, looking at the wedding pictures too,"he continues

"That'll be nice. You aren't leaving my bed till the very last minute though," she decides

"You should come," he prompts, giving her a squeeze

"You really think your family won't mind?"

"Please, they love you. They'll just be glad to see we are back together,"

"We could be going as friends," She teases, he rolls his eyes

"Not to a family reunion we couldn't. Besides, I have every intention to hold your hand and kiss you the whole night so they'll probably catch on. Aside from Percy, bless him, he's socially inept,"

If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

**

Masterlist

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

word count : 1.8k

there shouldn’t be any harm in checking on tooru and his injured knee.

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀everyday was like going in circles and yet never knowing what the destination is supposed to be. each day seemed to be nothing more than a loophole chains of events, only to restart back at square one tomorrow. this investigation of yours was getting nowhere, and your hope of remembering anything was becoming more of a fever dream than an actual possibility.

⠀demanding hajime to tell you everything wouldn't work, he could out-stubborn you at any given time. makki and mattsun were no longer willing to tell you a thing, for fear they'd get the iron fisted beatdown of a century from their third year peer. oikawa didn't seem like much of an option either, especially with hajime's strange request to stay away from him at all times.

⠀with nothing else to think about, your new subject of thought was that fateful conversation in the gym not so long ago. not really a conversation; truly, more like a one sided rant to someone you hardly even knew. as far as you knew, you were probably strangers with tooru oikawa before the accident. iwa still had yet to explain the conflict between him and his fellow volleyball player, and you were honestly believing that he was never planning to.

⠀you had seen him walk in with crutches the following day, absolutely distraught that his injury was that bad. you had seen the brace on his knee as he practiced serving in the gym, but you never knew how bad his knee was until you broke his line of concentration. you couldn't even go and check on him, with iwaizumi sitting right there. no one knew how or why he walked in with crutches, and he never explained why, either. you wanted to stand up on stage and tell everyone yourself to hold yourself accountable for being the cause behind his unfortunate incident.

⠀"i'm staying after school today, hajime." a more spontaneous decision was made minutes before the last bell of the day rang, causing your friend to look at you strangely. he didn't seem suspicious of you, but he certainly had questions.

⠀"do you want me to stay behind with you?" he asked, his lips pursed as you looked at the clock. there was a hope in the back of your mind, a silent plea that he would be there today as well. the odds were low with the circumstances that you had caused yesterday, but there was no harm in trying. if not in the gym, he could possibly spend his time somewhere else?

⠀"no, you can go home." you shook your head as you turned back to him, keeping a straight face as to not sound strange. "you can walk me tomorrow, and we can even go out to eat. my favorite place, of course." you grinned, lightening the mood with a playful punch to his shoulder. "how's that sound?"

⠀chuckling to himself with a shrug, he soon nodded his head. "alright, deal. i'll pay." your eyes widened at his reaction, opening your mouth to retaliate but he shushed you. "i won't take no for an answer, you know how i am."

⠀"yeah, i know." rolling your eyes with a smile of your own, you breathed a sigh of relief. even if things have been strange, hajime was still your friend. you were thankful of how eager he was to help you and stand at your side at the drop of a hat. he was a handful at times, but you were thankful for him. "i'm surprised you're not broke because of me at this point."

⠀"nah. you're pretty satisfied with easy things anyway." you scoffed and turned away, earning a bigger laugh from iwaizumi. "i'm kidding. but i'm still paying tomorrow."

⠀"fine." just as you replied, the bell rang throughout the school, indicating the students that their last class of the day had come to a close. your heart leaped as you stood up, picking up your books and supplies almost too excitedly. you stopped yourself and secretly hoped that he would stay around the school.

⠀"y/n." you felt a hand around your wrist as you left the classroom, turning around to see iwaizumi hesitating to speak further, yet his grip unwavering.

⠀"hajime?"

⠀"i'm sorry." you creased your eyebrows in confusion, watching intently as his eyes refused to look into yours. "i know... i've been a pain your ass. this whole car incident, i can't imagine how frustrating it must be for you." you weren't sure where this was going, so you chose to stay silent. "i just want you to know that i haven't been able to make your life easier, but i promise from now on, it won't be that way."

⠀your jaw clenched. the only thing you wanted to accompany such an apology is an explanation and full story of what you've been wanting since you gathered your senses. "i see," you muttered, nodding your head slowly. "thank you, hajime."

⠀"i'll treat you right, okay? i swear on my life." once he loosened his hold, you pulled your wrist away and nodded again steely, pressing your lips upwards into a soft, half-hearted smile. even with such sincere, sweet words, he still refused to tell you anything. "you can trust me."

⠀"i know, hajime. i trust you." you nodded your head, waving goodbye to him before turning the corner, beginning your search around aoba johsai for the one person you want to talk to. why did you want to talk to him? he looked so uncomfortable with you around, you almost felt guilty for even stepping near him. did you bully him in the past? did you two hate each other in the past?

⠀trying your luck, you braved a deep breath and made your way back into the gym, no plan in mind as you closed your eyes upon reaching the doorway that made way into the large gym, disappointed that you heard no sounds while you blocked your own vision.

⠀you were expecting to be met with a wave of more disappointment, until a startled voice broke the silence. "y/n?"

⠀your eyes shot open in surprise. you almost revealed your relief with a smile. right in front of you stood oikawa, leaning on a crutch supporting his injured knee. he was surprised as you were that you were entering the gym, but expressed it in a different way. "what are you doing here?" he followed up, his arm stiffening to support his weight to stand up straighter.

⠀you didn't realize how awkward this meeting would be until you stood face to face with him right here. there was no point in sugar coating it, you were already there, and he was right in front of you. "i was looking for you," you replied, standing up a little straighter yourself. "i wanted to know how you've been doing. seeing your crutches, you must've been hurt pretty bad." you bowed. "i'm sorry."

⠀"this? it's nothing. i'm on crutches at least once a month." looking back up at him, oikawa shook his head and looked away, using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. "my knee has been pretty messed up for quite sometime now, it's no big deal. don't blame yourself over it. i was bound to hurt myself again, anyway."

⠀"then why don't you take a break?" it seemed quite obvious to you that the only remedy for these types of injuries was a hiatus and a time period to recuperate to not only heal your injuries, but to give some time to relax as well. "you should prioritize your well being."

⠀you watched the third year tense, his breath caught in his throat as he shook his head immediately, his eyes now going to the ground instead of at you. "i wish it were that easy," he mumbled. "maybe if i had the natural talent to take a breather, i would give myself a break. but i'm not naturally talented. i'm a setback, if anything."

⠀"nonsense!” you shook your head quickly, the words coming out of his mouth sounding like nothing but complete lies. "you're amazing! from what i witnessed yesterday, you're an amazing volleyball player." you paused for a second. "you played with hajime, right? what was your position?"

⠀"setter." the brunet's voice lowered. "actually, i was the captain of the team."

⠀"no way!" your eyes were practically sparkling at this point. "and you dare say you're not naturally gifted?" you placed your hands on your hips in disbelief. "i refuse to believe it."

⠀"oh, you should believe it, alright..." tooru began clenching his jaw, but you were too marveled to notice.

⠀"and i was the manager, so we must've definitely known each other before my accident!" you nodded matter-of-factly to answer your own question. "to think i can't remember anything you did as captain for the team... your teammates were definitely in great hands, i can just feel it! you - "

⠀"for the love of god, could you please get out of the way?" you stopped speaking the moment oikawa raised his voice, taking a step back instinctively. "y/n, i'm trying to get out of the gym, but i can't with you in the way. could you please move?"

⠀your pulse spiked in your system, the humiliation rushing to your cheeks faster than the blink of an eye. your legs moved mechanically to the side, your breathing uneasy as you locked your eyes to the floor, rendered speechless. this feeling was... all too familiar. you didn't like it. just thinking about it made your chest constrict a little bit. was this deja vu?

⠀it couldn't be, not when it was this effective.

⠀you heard oikawa curse under his breath, but you made no effort to look back up as the panic rose in his voice. "shit, y/n, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to snap at you like that. it's just that i get annoyed when i can't practice, i get impatient. but by no means do i blame you for my knee! you're right, i shouldn't push myself, i should take a breather. i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry."

⠀by the time you looked up, oikawa looked like he was about to gush waterfalls out of his eyes at any given moment; the atmosphere between the two of you flipped completely, and your energy had long depleted. "no, i should be the one to apologize. i got ahead of myself, i didn't let you talk... again." moving your arms to cross awkwardly, the world seemed to mock your stupidity before backing up more from him. "i actually should probably get going now. again, i'm sorry about your knee. i'll probably be apologizing for it until you're off the crutches. see you around."

⠀you gave oikawa no time to reply as you hastily power walked your way out of seijoh, feeling suffocated as you made your way home, the deja vu eating you up as you continued to tread quickly. it couldn't be deja vu, there was no way.

⠀something in his tone of voice triggered something deeper than what your amnesia could cover. you had felt this way before. out of anything you could've recalled first, it was just your luck it had to be this.

⠀what was your relationship to oikawa before the accident, anyway?

a/n : honestly i have nothing to say, so look out for part 13 soon!

taglist ( closed ) — @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-alot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @cirtruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @karaseijoh @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddlesslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch @readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy @kukiisan @catyuyuyuu @sillykittt @dolan-mendes @kiritokunuwu @the-third-wall @yammerss @monviemoo

[dawn-of-tomorrow]

shoutout to @punishing-gray-raven-ocs for this ask game!! (didin't expect to be tagged with one so soon lolol but i'm overjoyed~~ ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡❤️❤️)

1) What made you even think of trying Punishing Gray Raven? What made you stick with it?

Funny story actually-- I've long heard about PGR, way back when it was first released even, but I just didn't give it a chance back then mainly because it was in CN and I couldn't understand shit (rather ironic given how I am now lmao).

As for why I decided fairly recently, a couple of months give or take, to give PGR a shot? It's mainly due to the fact that I heard that the Global version would be out very soon, so I thought why not dive into what I've missed so far... not knowing that I'd become THIS obsessed with the game, aha~.

The most obvious thing that made me stick to this game are the interesting cast of characters, the "fun" story, the amazing yet simple game mechanics, and etc. etc.

2) What problems, if any, do you have with PGR?

Honestly speaking, the thing that most VEXES me at the moment about PGR, specifically PGR Global, is the wonky translations. It feels like a group of half-assed fan translators and one official translator who's not doing a good enough job with reigning everyone in instead of feeling like a group of professional translators who know what they're doing. Hell, I've seen better translations from some of my twitter mutuals!

3) Who is your favorite Construct, and why?

Lee. There's no question about it, Lee is my most favorite Construct at the moment (and forever perhaps ohoho~). As for why, god, hold that mic for a bit, I'm gonna go on a fucking rant. Ehem.

First of all, let's start with the most basic of things, like his appearances; As Palefire, he looks like this suave, very aloof, super serious, unapproachable, and "gets shit done efficiently" type of person, and while that description certainly isn't wrong, it's also hiding more layers of Lee's overall personality; as Entropy, he certainly looks and feels bit more casual than before, along with feeling somewhat more, even if a tiny bit, more honest with his feelings and easier to approach than before.

Despite being a serious, no-nonsense, grumpy guy, he's prone to occasionally quip and snark at anyone at their own expense especially if they get on his nerves (see his interactions with Kamui, not even the Commandant is spared from this!). He's also not as cold and distant as he may come across, given that, early on, he quite literally jumps in front of Liv to take a hit that was meant for her with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever, he's almost always the first person to make comments on the Commandant's state as well as express his undiluted feelings (though not without hiding it on occasion behind anger/annoyance, thus making it a case of "anger born from worry").

You can also easily tell if you pay close enough attention to his dialogue and actions that he's not good with expressing his true feelings even to the people he cares about (thankfully Murray, Skk, Lucia, Liv, Kamui, etc. can usually pick up on what he really wants to say), is the type to often be misunderstood due to him being the kind of person who believes in "actions speak louder than words", that he's used to taking care of others instead of prioritizing himself even to his own detriment; while making it clear that he prefers to think and act in a logical and practical manner, he's not exempt to having emotions/feelings, as such, he can be pretty empathetic towards other people even if he doesn't look like it (he's even the first one in the Gray Raven squad to point out WHY EXACTLY the people they come across in Echo Aria refuse to leave their homes even with high risk of the Red Tide washing everything away, and fully understanding as well as getting it).

Alrighty I'm gonna cut that segment short now before this becomes too long for anyone to read through, ehe~!

4) What made you think of designing PGR OCs, instead of making yourself into a self-insert?

.... Actually, truth be told, both of my Skks are, in some way, self-inserts~. It's just that they start out as one before eventually developing into their own characters with only hints/traces of their self-insert origin. Though my Construct OCs are definitely not self-inserts, that much I can certainly say so!

I made them mainly because I really enjoyed the official cast so much I wanted to make characters that would get to interact with them somehow, though I take great care in making sure they aren't TOO out of character with how they're canonically portrayed.

5) What's your thought process behind creating your OCs?

Honestly, it usually starts of something like this--

"lol wouldn't it be funny if I made this type of character? Oooh, what if they interacted with this character? Or this character? Or that character? Let's see, what's missing... Backstory and profile, check. Appearance, I'll sketch one in a bit. Hmmm... I know! *drowns the OC in mountains load of angst*"

6) What's your favorite chapter from the main story?

If I'm limited to talking only about the main chapters currently released on Global then it would have to be Fallen Star, mainly because it's Watanabe's time to shine~. (*´∀｀*)

However, if we were to look at the overall chapters, then, I would have to say Imprisoned Sight.

7) What do you think of the new Liv shown in the latest stream? Where do you think the story is going with her? What do you think happened to Gray Raven?

With Liv, I have a really bad and somber feeling about what Kuro Game has in store for her, given how she looks almost complete different than what she's looked so far, as well as the vibe her new look gives off.

Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to thanos snap her memories away as well like they did with Lucia, or worse, infect her with the Punishing and turn her into an actual enemy (for a while before we get her back).

As for Gray Raven, considering what happened at the end of Evernight Beat, wherein the Skk is in a fucking coma with a chunk of the Mother Structure lodged in their abdomen, while Lee and Lucia are in repairs along with Liv, and, if I recall correctly, the Merciful One managed to reach Babylonia and is now onboard the space station as well-- I have a feeling that the despairing Liv will be approached by her and be given a new frame.

8) Have you seen the animated shorts? What do you think of them?

If you're talking about the Panini anime then yes, I've watched them already! Still ripping my insides open from laughter everytime I watch them lol. Favorite episode has got to be the toilet episode, next to that would be the episode where Chrome takes Kamui to Karenina and Liv for training.

9) So do Constructs eat or not? (I'm really confused, especially since I saw Karenina sipping a drink in one of the shorts)

Oh they most certainly can! Fuck, it's even explicitly stated that Camu likes to eat and sample foods whenever he can (revealed in his secrets, as well as his affection stories).

As Camu explains, while they don't get nutrients from human food, they most certainly can still enjoy them and use them as a type of fuel.

10) Do you think Kamui and/or Camu will be a really pivotal plot device at some point, considering how the information on Kamui is so top secret?

Hmmmm.... unless the story at that point is revolving around Kurono Ops and how shady they're being, then personally speaking, the chances are slim.

11) Do you think, at any point, any of the Gray Ravens will die off?

Naaaaaah. They won't do that. Sure, they TECHNICALLY killed off Lucia, but she's still "alive" in a sense, so it both counts and doesn't count.

Besides, sometimes death isn't the worse thing you can inflict on someone/a character~.

12) Who is your least favorite Construct, and why?

I don't really hate/dislike any of the Constructs if I'm being honest. Though I hate how shitty of a unit Sophia is, and that it's kinda pitiful that she's become even more useless now that the new S-Liv is here; but I am in no way saying you should stop using her, keep using Sophia if you really like her! It's your choice after all, and I'm not about to contest you on that part, after all, everyone's enjoyment is subjective.

13) What part of PGR's lore really holds your attention?

The part of the lore that really holds my attention are the characters, and seeing how they react and act to the situations happening to and around them, especially concerning the Punishing and forces out of their control~.

[local-ground-apple]

hedgehog of contention

alternative title: callous queen caught becoming red for once not because he’s livid, or when your present is rule-breaking

also, I promise I will do the requests soon, but since today’s Riddle’s birthday...couldn’t help myself...

,,Can you close your eyes?”

,,What?”

,,Come on, Riddle, I can guarantee you will like it”

The way your eyes lit up and your lips curled into pleasant smile, made him only blush slightly. Riddle sighed, clearly defeated.

,,I suppose I could scold you after this”

His cold voice almost made you shiver. But since he wasn’t screaming at you, collaring others or harshly scolding you for “forgetting” about his birthday, you decided to continue.

Riddle reluctantly closed his eyes as you took his hand and began dragging him into unknown direction.

“Don’t peek.”

You playfully warned him, as he only pouted, but let you lead him. You were slightly giggling, clearly amused and excited about your surprise for him.

,,Oh and happy birthday, Riddle!”

You exclaimed, when delicate puff of fresh air hit his face. He could feel the soft grass underneath his shoes and Riddle couldn’t help but look.

You indeed took him to the garden full of red-painted roses. Riddle frowned, that’s not how his birthday party was supposed to look like according to the rules. Instead of usual, chestnuts tarts, he could see his absolutely favourite strawberry tarts. Everyone was seated as they pleased, the decorations obviously expressed Red Queen’s characteristic objects, but he could see how you sneaked hedgehogs almost everywhere.

They were walking slowly on the grass, some students were using them and flamingos to play croquet and he could spot small cookies in the shape of them. He was sure you were the one to make them. You also managed to decorate each glass with roses who even adorned the chairs. Instead of one, fine kind of tea you made sure to brew different types to suit everyone’s taste.

Only the table cloth was white, as it was supposed to be.

Riddle was speechless when gathered students of Heartslabyul were singing loudly and ,of course, off-key “happy birthday” to him. His face only reddened when he felt your lips press a soft kiss on his check, while you were wishing him the best. He tightly clutched his fists, as conflicting emotions rushed through him.

Now everything became clear. 

How he hadn’t seen you in this morning. Your constant whispering and plotting with Cater which had driven him up the wall or time spent with Trey on careful planning, made sense. Riddle had even saw you “discreetly” passing some mysterious sheets to other Heartslabyul students. Unfortunately, each time he demanded the papers from them, they were all quiet.

Riddle couldn’t believe you managed to intimidate them more than he.

So you weren’t avoiding him, because you hated him. No, you were simply doing your best to disregard set rules and bring to life your own vision of his birthday party.

It certainly wasn’t what Riddle had expected, but his heart was slowly melting at the sight before him. Not only you clearly put immense effort into preparing whole party, but he could also see that you observed closely what he liked and disliked, so you could apply it.

Instead of making the tea party he was expected to have, you created a birthday he always wanted to have. The one which felt more personal, but still held that Red Queen’s spark.

His flushing face and silence slowly began to worry you, as your smile slightly dropped.

Maybe you went overboard?

Maybe you tried to push his comfort zone a little bit too hard?

,,It’s…It’s all totally wrong, have you seen the rules?!”

,,Good you mentioned that!”

You quickly cut him, before Riddle started ranting. You knew he could be seconds from having an outburst, so you tried to settle down the whole situation. You reached for golden envelope laying on the table and you gave it to him, encouraging him to open it.

Riddle’s eyes widen slightly as he saw the paper before him.

,,Riddle’s Birthday Tea Party Rules”

Underneath it, you neatly wrote down the list of all the rules you wanted to apply, concerning the amount of hedgehogs that could be allowed in, the temperature of tea, including the list of his favourite snacks and a number of sweet kisses he could receive.

Rule #11 One must convince Crowley to let him bring one hedgehog.

Rule #34 Riddle Rosehearts can receive unlimited number of kisses to his liking.

Rule #54 The strawberries ought to be cut in four parts before they're putted on the tart.

You clearly took a lot into consideration. 

,,I know how much you cherish the rules and how sometimes you feel suffocated by that the ones implored by Red Queen, so I decided to prepare my own set, so technically we still can follow the rules, while doing something more..hmmm.. you”

You began to chaotically explain yourself, your words soon mixing up and not making much sense. Riddle watched you with a smirk and you couldn’t tell whether he was displeased or actually elated.

,,Of course, if you don’t like it, we also prepared the version in accordance to your rules, so if you give us like twenty minutes, I think we would manage to change everything. I mean... if you want, of course, but like, it would be a shame to throw those hedgehogs out of here. You know how long it took me to convince Crowley to let them inside?!? Wait - before you decide, I should give you-“

Riddle only chuckled seeing how nervous you were, almost immediately making him forget his primal annoyance. He could feel the indecision slowly disappearing. You were stuttering on your words, babbling nonsense as you fiddled with a ribbon of the box in your hands.

With a sign Riddle patted your head, making you close your mouth and stop talking at inhuman speed.

,,I suppose, since those are still rules, well, we could still have this party”

You couldn’t believe that such words left Riddle’s mouth. You looked at his flushed face in pure disbelief as shock was written all over you. Quickly you composed yourself, feeling his slight embarrassment. With a bright smile you embraced him, almost dropping the package, which was fortunately caught Cater. Riddle brushed off your chaotic apologies concerning your distant behaviour as you simply wanted to keep it as surprise.

Deep inside he was relieved that finally during his birthday, he won’t have to follow strict rules which took away all the joy.

,,You said you had a present for me?”

He asked with a grin and you nodded eagerly. You took the box from Cater’s hands and proudly gave it to Riddle. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

,,Be careful, don’t prick your finger.”

You warned with a giggle. Riddle let out a surprised yelp, almost dropping the box. You’ve never seen a person widening his eyes so much and you swore his face has never been that flushed before. You burst out in laughter, while he was losing his shit over your present. His loud voice began scolding you, but seeing his slightly glassy eyes and a small smile over his lips, you knew he wasn’t exactly cross.

,,Y/N, how could you GET ME A HEDGEHOD AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, WERE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND WHILE PUTTING IT INTO THIS BOX!! HE COULD HAVE SUFFOCATED!”

,,Just don’t tell Crowley I gave you the hedgehog. I promised him the animals will leave the school before sunset”

,,ON TOP OF IT, YOU WANT ME TO KEEP A SECRET HEDHEHOG AND VIOLATE THE SCHOOL RULES”

,,yeah?”

[bloomingundertheshadows]

Do I have another hot take that I spent way too much time crafting and analyzing? Yes. Yes, I do. Fair warning, I have booked a first class ticket on the Salty Express, so, if you don’t need a rant right now, scroll away. But I honestly think this is kind of funny. 

I’m back with another hot take, and I think it’s my best one yet. Something was bothering me all season, which I couldn’t quite put a finger on until I watched the ending scene over again, and that is how weird the POV of this storyline was. By this I mean: This story was told from Levi’s POV even though it really wasn’t his storyline to begin with, but the writers literally just decided to play body swap because they don’t want to write for Nico. Let me explain:

The first part of this season establishes that Levi’s motivation/desire for this season are to move in/make his relationship with Nico more serious (which don’t even get me started). The only reason he cannot act upon these is because Nico’s motivations are different from his. At the end of the season, Levi’s motivations remain the same, but Nico’s change. From this very rudimentary perspective, one might then expect the writers to chart Nico’s journey to get from point A to point B. 

But they don’t. Instead, we end up with the most bamboozling moment on Grey’s Anatomy - Levi running away like a 12 year old and having a season long crisis that conflicts with his pre-established motivations. The real storyline this season was Nico growing from someone who wasn’t comfortable being vulnerable to someone who was. Yet, this is not what we got - 

I am honestly arguing that the reason that Levi had his mini freak out wasn’t because it made sense for the character, but because they needed a way to draw out this plot without giving Nico any character development. That sounds really harsh, but I truly believe this is the core problem. For one reason or another the writers didn’t want to dedicate any screen time to Nico’s character, so they resolved his inner conflict (which mind you has been an issue for multiple seasons) in like two episodes....WITHOUT SHOWING HOW OR WHY THIS WAS RESOLVED. He just popped up one day and was like “You’re right, I have issues, but now they’re gone, let’s move in together.”

However, then the writer’s thought to themselves, “Damn, we accidentally solved our conflict in one episode....Well, I guess then Levi better be having doubts because he’s the only one we can write for.” I kid you not, Levi’s freakout all season WAS LITERALLY NICO’S ENTIRE CHARACTER ARC. Think about it. Nico should have been the one to panic at the thought of moving in, spent some episodes kind of freaking out about change, consider seeing other people, realize he actually in love with Levi, and then trying some nonsensical grand gesture because he knows that’s what Levi would want. 

Fundamentally this is why I think the ending scene is cute, but doesn’t make sense at all. ABC’s Youtube channel titled the video of the clip “Schmitt Figures Out His Feelings for Nico.” What exactly is there to figure out? We started the season with Levi knowing his feelings for Nico. It was NICO who spent the season figuring out his feelings for LEVI, not the other way around. This would have been the perfect chance to follow Nico for the season and see him improve as a human, ultimately ending with him going all out for a grand gesture because he knows his boyfriend is a hopeless romantic. However, we don’t. At all. Why did Nico think candles were a great idea? Did he talk to his friends and ask for advice on being super romantic? Did he almost burn down his house? Are there other ways he might be trying to improve himself so that we don’t have season 18 rehashing the plot of season 17? I don’t know and neither does anyone else. 

In conclusion, they stole Nico’s character arc and gave it to Levi. 

[regrettablewritings]

💓, 💙, 💜 for Steve Harrington, please.

💓 (Who initiates most physical contact?):

As mentioned before, Steve is the most expressive between the two of you when it comes to both emotions and PDA. This, of course, comes with the fact that his methods have matured from what they were when he was a more pig-headed and insecure person. But just because he’s learned to tone down putting his hand in his partner’s butt pocket doesn’t mean he doesn’t still take charge when it comes to more physical applications of affection.

He isn’t as fond of gatherings as he’d once been but on the rare occasion the two of you find yourselves at a bonfire or a barbecue, his arm will always find its way around your waist, for example. In other instances, such as when you’re ending your break and going back to work, he’ll give you a peck on the lips (if you’ll let him). Yeah, you’re only going to the Claire’s in the exact same shopping center and it’s only for another couple of hours, but he’s gonna miss you the entire three-minute walk away you are away from him.

Steve just likes being near you, frankly, and the physical intimacy he can derive from just hand-holding while watching a movie rocks his world.

💙 (Who is more protective?):

Steve is, and with good reason. You live in Hawkins, after all: It’s like a weirdness magnet for any and all things unnatural. Of course, you are only aware of the strangeness in terms of just the small town variety: How everyone knows everything, the weird circumstances surrounding that Will Byers kid, and so on. You have no idea just how deep everything literally runs -- and while he wants to tell you, some part of Steve is also not quite sure of how or if he even should.

There’s admittedly some danger to this, but he would desperately like to think that the worst of it is over, thus rendering telling you unnecessary. After all, you seemed to be perfectly willing to believe that the whole reason he keeps a spiked baseball bat in the trunk of his car is because of an incident involving an attempted carjacking while you were still attending university out-of-town. Why bog down the details with cosmic horror?

Maybe it’s a bit selfish, but he’d rather have you believe him to be your bat-wielding knight in not-even-armor. Just so you can still believe that he can protect you from anyone instead of the idea that there are any things he needs to keep you safe from.

💜 (Who said “I love you” first? Or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?):

Well, Steve said the words first, but it was done in a manner as if to test the waters. Really, that was exactly what he was doing: Testing the waters. He just chuckled it and breathed, “God, I love you” right in the middle of you ranting about the nonsense that was that week’s episode of Murder, She Wrote. Just that simple way anyone can tell someone they care about without necessarily having to risk anything, just the sort one could use without the romantic context attached. Though in his own head he was risking a helluva lot just uttering the word “love” and “you” in the same sentence.

Yet, in spite of this being considered a risk, he wanted to believe he was also playing it safe: He’d been burned before, and even though he’d long since moved on from Nancy, the way their relationship ended left him with the tiniest burn mark when it came to playing the field again. Worse still was that he had no idea of it until he’d gotten in deep with you. But keeping the feelings at bay was still difficult for him: He had, after all, developed into a more emotionally-accepting person.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.

You were just as scared when you finally told him you loved him -- and in a tone that differed from when he’d used it on you during your Murder, She Wrote rant. It was stern. Aware. Confident in what you felt, but not so much in how he might respond. He had, after all, only been telling you he loved you in an almost taunting fashion. But you didn’t care; you didn’t want to care. You knew how you felt and even though you were the more reserved one between the two of you, you wanted him to know how you felt as well.

Cheesy as it is to say, your confession was like a salve to him. A soothing balm that quieted any and all worries he had on whether you felt as he did.

Thank you for your patience!

[keanan1501]

I wanted to make a short drabble for a AU i've been playing around with, that 'short drabble' somehow ended up being 2815 words long.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: (just to be safe)

- mentions of death

- swearing

- mentions of abuse

- mild panic attack

- loss of senses (they return don't worry)

- overstimulation (is that the correct word?)

Also quickly wanna say sorry if something is worded weird or if something is misspelled, english isn't my native language

Tubbo shivers slightly as the cool air whips against the huddled group of five. He hadn't dressed for the cold, he'd dressed for bed, sadly his plans for going to sleep were thwarted by Fundy breaking into his house, screaming about how Dream was building obsidian walls around L'manburg. That's how they got where they are now, Tommy, Ranboo, Quackity, Fundy and of course Tubbo himself standing next to a large obsidian wall, Dream sitting above them with his legs carelessly dangling over the edge.

"Dream you prick, what is this about?!" Tommy is the first to speak, his loud voice being heard over the howling wind. A small smile creeps up on Tubbo's face, no wonder Wilbur chose Tommy as the third president, Tommy had a way of catching people's attention and holding it. Even the masked tyrant couldn't help but pay attention to the blond president, or maybe he is, Tubbo isn't sure, Dream's mask is angled towards them, but who knows where his eyes are looking? Or maybe his eyes are closed?

"He's not going to come down, is he?" Fundy groaned, eyeing the stairs that  would let them climb on top of the obsidian like it had just insulted his entire bloodline, maybe it had, Tubbo wouldn't be suprised if Fundy could talk to stairs. Nothing could suprise Tubbo anymore, not after his older brother died and came back as a ghost.

Tommy lets out a sigh that is best discribed as a mix between resignation and anger before climbing up the steps, Tubbo quickly following after him, and from the noise behind him he can tell Quackity and Fundy are following as well. He turns to look back at Ranboo, Tommy had asked the enderman hybrid to wait near the meeting, and not involve himself, which was reasonable, Ranboo was new, he shouldn't have to dive head-first into petty political arguments. The half black-half white tall male gives him a reassuring smile, and Tubbo can't help but smile back, sure, Ranboo was new, but he'd already made a impression on Tommy and Tubbo, and both were looking for a way to invite Ranboo into this group, a way to make their duo a trio.

Once on the walls Tubbo freezes for a second. Dream isn't alone, Sapnap, George and Punz are with him. "You!" Sapnap spits, and speedwalks forewards, Tubbo would have laughted at how silly the bandana wearing male looked if Sapnap wasn't speedwalking towards him. Sapnap is fuming, he doesn't need to look at the other male's face to realize that, the guy's balled up hands shaking with what could only be discribed as rage tells him the whole story. If that wasn't enough Sapnap grabs the front of his pajama shirt and pulls him close, forcing him to make eye contact, the blaze hybrid's eyes almost look like they're on fire.

"Hey!" Fundy's bark snaps Sapnap out of the one-sided staring contest he was having with Tubbo "Can you at least let Quackity and me on before you go around trying to fight us?!" Sapnap glares at him, and Tubbo mentally scolds the small part of his brain that's still stuck in the past, the small voice in his head telling him to apologize, to courtesy for Schlatt, and to leave as fast as possible, Schlatt was already angry, he'll just piss him off more if he stays, and when Schlatt gets pissed off he-

A soft tail brushing against his hand brings him back to the present, Fundy's looking at him with concerned but understanding eyes. Tubbo takes a moment to remind himself that Schlatt is dead, and to notice Sapnap backed off, and that Tommy is president now. He gives a short and polite nod to Fundy, mouthing a "thanks" he would've said it out loud if Dream and Tommy weren't arguing. Wait... he should probably pay attention.

"-George's house!" Dream yells, throwing his hands up as Tommy splutters nonsense in return, clearly showing of his disagreement with whatever statement Dream made. Tubbo shuffles up besides Quackity, carefully tapping the duck hybrid's middle finger twice, it was their own made up code for "i wasn't paying attention, what's going on?".

"Dream is claiming you burned down George's house" Quackity whispers "Sapnap, Punz and George are backing him up, George and Punz are saying they watched you burn it" Tubbo frowns, he wants to protest against their claims, but Tommy is already doing a great job for him. He walks over to Tommy and places his hand on the taller male's shoulder, a silent show of support.

"Listen Tommy" Dream yells, reaching out to the blonde as if to cover his mouth with a hand, but thinking better of it "Tubbo burned down George's house, we have multiple eye witnesses! Or are you saying Tubbo has a alibi that can prove otherwise?" Tommy nods, full of confidence as always, he smiles brightly as he turns to his vice "Tubbo, where were you yesterday evening, and who were you with?"

Tubbo mulls over his answer, he was working on his bee dome during that time, he was building it with Ranboo. He opens his mouth to answer, but a bad feeling grips his heart and squeezes it, and a lie slips past his lips just as naturally as the truth should have "I was working on my bee dome, alone" why did he lie? The truth would have been so much better! He could faintly hear Dream and Tommy yell some more, but that became background noise. He knew why he lied, he lied because he wanted to protect Ranboo, Ranboo was new, innocent, the perfect prey for opportunistic tyrants such as Dream. Tommy and Tubbo were similar in that aspect, both teens wanted to keep Ranboo from playing metaphorical chess with Dream for as long as possible, Schlatt and Wilbur showed them what happens when you lose against Dream, and neither was ready to let bright-eyed Ranboo have even the tiniest chance of losing.

"I want you to exile Tubbo" Dream's words hit him like Technoblade's rocket, burning him from the inside out and drying his throat, rendering him speechless. From the sudden strangled noises next to him he can tell Tommy, Quackity and Fundy are having the same reaction. Once again, it's Tommy who finds his voice first "You want me to WHAT?! No! No no no no no! Fuck you! Fuck you i am not exiling Tubbo!"

"Well, that's going to be a problem then" Dream whistles, Tubbo could hear the smile in his voice, and with practiced ease he whips out a flint & steel with one hand, and Cat with the other "Tubbo burned down the king's house, and i want punishment for his actions, so either exile him, or i'll burn this disc like he burned George's house"

Quiet settled over the people gathered up on the wall. Tubbo could see Tommy's mouth open and close, trying to force out words that weren't there, could see Fundy flinch and shrink in on himself, ears pinned back and eyes ping-ponging between Tubbo and Tommy, could feel his heart drop, his stomach filling with dread. Everyone who was around for L'manburg's war of independence knows how much Tommy values his discs, everyone who's been on the server for more then a day knew how much Tommy values his friendship with Tubbo, but noone knows which of the two he values more, and Tubbo is petrified of finding out.

Quackity laughs, loud and boisterous, like Dream had just told the best joke he's ever heard "Are you crazy?! No way Tommy is going to chose some disc over Tubbo!" the duck hybrid cackles, wiping away fake laughter tears "Tell him how delusional he is Tommy!"

Tubbo looks back over at Tommy, taking in a sharp gasp of air at the lost expression on his best friend's face. His hands itch, and he knows, he knows he wants to grab Tommy by the arm, drag him away from Dream, away from responsibility, back to their bench, play mellohi... mellohi! He has mellohi!

He reaches out, grabbing Tommy's hand, and letting out a concerned noise as Tommy whips his head around fast enough to make him dizzy "Tubbo, i- i don't-" the blond croaks, pulling the shorter close and stuffing his face into the brunette's shoulder, a bit challenging with their height difference but they make it work "I can't lose you too" Tommy mumbles, and Tubbo is reminded of the fact that Wilbur had practically adopted the blond boy as his brother, something Tommy eagerly returned, all that was missing was the paperwork.

"Tommy, it's just a disc" Quackity huffs, fustration lacing his tone "Tubbo is worth ten times more than some random disc!" Quackity opens his mouth again, no doubt to rant some more, but Tubbo shushes him before turning his attention on the distraught blond, the last thing he needs right now is someone yelling at him

"It's okay Tommy, sometimes sacrifices are needed" Tubbo sighs, carefully scratching the back of Tommy's head in the way he knows Tommy loves, and like he expects the blond melts into it, letting out a quiet hum "Plus, i still have Mellohi, and i'm sure we can get a new disc" Tubbo cheerfully smiles, but that smile drops as Tommy freezes "I don't want a new disc" Tommy pulls away, and dispite not being a very touch-oriented person, Tubbo still mourns the loss of the grounding weight on his shoulder.

"You both are being morons! Dream is threatning to burn my disc!" Tommy snaps, eyes darting between Quackity and Tubbo, almost like he expects both of them to attack him "I thought they were our discs?" Tubbo asks softly, and he could hear Fundy growl out a quiet "Tommy, don't" but both are drowned out by Quackity's yelling "We're being morons?! We?! Tommy open your fucking eyes man! You're concidering wether you should banish a living, breathing, human being capable of emotions, your best friend, over a peice of plastic that plays some tunes when you put it in a jukebox!"

"We aren't sending Tubbo away, are we?" Tubbo wanted to scream, Fundy's question had been asked so softly, but the amount of defeat and hopelessness dripping off of it punched him in the gut, Fundy already knows the answer, and Tubbo wants to scream, because he knows as well. But once again the two quieter members of the cabinet go unheard, as the two louder turn their anger at one another.

" Who cares about some discs?!" Quackity screams, shoving Tommy back a bit, and the blond lets out a animalistic snarl that makes a shiver crawl up Tubbo's spine "I do!" Tommy yells back, pushing Quackity. Both Fundy and Tubbo dart forewards, Fundy grabs Quackity's wrist to stop him from falling off the obsidian wall, while Tubbo pushes Tommy back, placing himself between the two arguing allies, Ranboo's shout of distress could be heard faintly, the enderman hybrid probably noticing how close Quackity had gotten to tumbling down the large structure.

Tommy takes no notice of Quackity's near death experience, and tries to get around Tubbo, no doubt to continue their argument. Tubbo grabs Tommy's wrists, keeping the taller in place "Tommy, i promise you that after this is all over, i'll get you a new Cat disc" Tubbo smiles, rubbing circles onto Tommy's arms with his thumbs "It will take a bit, but i'll get a new one! We can let this one be burned and-" Tubbo's throat tightens as Tommy looks at him with undisguised rage burning in his eyes, the anger that was previously thrown at Quackity had increased ten fold, and Tubbo had just made himself the new target.

Tommy rips his arms out of Tubbo's hold, still staring at him. Tubbo makes himself tinier, knowing he messed up big time, why else would Tommy look at him like he wanted nothing more than to beat him up and leave him bleeding out? Instead of going physical the angry teen takes a deep breath before exploding "You- Tubbo, you don't- THE DISK TUBBO- THE DISKS ARE WORTH MORE THAN YOU EVER WILL BE!".

Quiet. Quiet takes over the whole group. Even the wind stops howling, everyone is shaking, why? Even Dream and his group are shaking. They didn't get yelled at, they didn't get invalidated, Tubbo did, yet they're shaking. He feels two arms tug him away from Tommy, and he weakly struggles against the hold, Tommy didn't mean what he said, he couldn't have meant it!

Quackity pulls him into a one-armed hug, and points his other finger at Tommy, his mouth is moving, and Tubbo's eyes widen. The only person shaking is Tubbo, the world hasn't gone quiet, Tubbo's ears are just ringing and he can't hear anything. As if realizing his situation was the key to everything suddenly noises surround him once more, Quackity and Tommy are yelling, the wind is howling, Fundy is pacing, he's pretty sure he can even hear Ranboo breathing! Everything is too loud! He grabs his own fuzzy ears and tugs, a horrible attempt at blocking out all the noise.

Dream claps his hands in a almost giddy way, and Tubbo flinches "Well, that's settled" he sounds so happy, Tubbo wants to puke "I'm glad we could come to a agreement President Innit" Tubbo watches as Dream pockets the flint & steel and Cat, his movements, his voice, his entire aura screamed dangerously pleased.

Dream reaches for him, and Tubbo lets out a bleet of fright, he wants to scream again, Dream shouldn't be trying to grab him and drag him to Prime knows where! Quick as a fox he escapes from Quackity's hold and dashes to Tommy, knowing his best friend would protect him, no matter what. Dream reaches for him again, and Tubbo tries to dart around Tommy to safety, but a hand grabs his arm and keeps him in place long enough for Dream to grab his wrist and put handcuffs on them.

Tubbo watches the hand that sealed his fate drop from his arm, he follows it as it drops limply to Tommy's side. The blond is looking straight ahead, not looking at him, why isn't he looking at him? "Tommy" Tubbo calls out softly, headbutting the male in the side, aside from a winded "oof" Tommy makes no move to regonize the gesture of affection.

"Tommy, look at me" the male stares straight ahead, no reaction to Tubbo's words "Tommy, look at me please!" Tubbo stumbles back as Dream tugs at the chain connected to his wrists "Tommy look at me goddammit!" Tubbo screams, why won't Tommy look at him? He wants to apologize, to reassure Tommy that none of this was his fault, to ask if they're still friends, but he can't do that, not when Tommy won't meet his eyes.

Tommy finally turns to face him, and Tubbo smiles, taking a breath in preparation for everything he was about to say, but Tommy beats him to it "Tubbo Underscore, i, President Innit, hereby exile you from L'manburg. You will have one hour to leave this country, if you are found in L'manburg after your hour is up, it will be considered treason" Tubbo's words die in his throat, instead a single sob is all that comes out. He takes a look around, both Quackity and Fundy are looking horrified at Tommy, Punz and George look like they'd rather be anywhere else, and to Sapnap's credit, the raven-haired man looks guilty "Well, you heard the president Tubbo, time is ticking, lets go!" Tubbo wouldn't be suprised if Dream explodes from happiness at this point.

Dream tugs on the chains again, and this time Tubbo follows without fighting back. He feels a odd sense of calm, but he knows it won't last, he'll break, he can feel a typhoon of emotions inside of him, but it's going to fast to pick out a single emotion, so he just feels numb. He can feel Tommy's stare on the back of his head, but this time it's him that refuses to acknowledge his best fri- his ex best friend.

As Dream leads him down the stairs he can hear a worried warble from Ranboo, so he puts on a brave face and smiles, not wanting the enderman to remember him as the weeping exiled, because honestly, he doesn't know if he'll make it back alive, or if he'll make it back at all. Tommy, Fundy and Quackity are screaming at eachother again, he can't hear what they're saying, but by their tones it's probably something bad.

"Take care of them for me, okay?" he asks Ranboo, pointing with his head at the L'manburg cabinet "I know they're idiots, but they're lovable idiots, i promise"

[my-darling-boy]

What's your review of 1917? I adored the sound/music, thought the cinematography was fantastic, and the wardrobe was phenomenal. I loved it. I thought of you when I went to see it. ♥️

Honestly it is probably one of my favourite films now? I could talk about how the uniforms and kits were really great in their uniqueness and that the writing was amazing and that the score was spot on, but I REALLY want to review some key elements that made this film absolutely incredible.

World War One is a very VAST and particular subject, and completely differs from both wars before it and wars after it. Like I mentioned in that rant I went on about why I study WWI, this was armed combat like never before, and what people thought would be a quick and painless event quickly turned into a mindless slaughter into which countries on all sides had worked themselves far too deep into and could not get themselves out of. There were no actual enemies in WWI. This was a war were an extensive number of people involved wanted the fighting to stop. And the trickiness about writing WWI subject matter for a modern audience that so often sees war and violence as something that is meant to empower, is that you must find a way to portray this anecdote that defies their mindset.

People go to see films of war for many different reasons: politics, depictions of violence, the particularly American concept of seeing your country as the victor or “winner”, or simply being historically curious are just some of the many reasons. And how do you appeal to a wide variety of audience members if, like then, there are so many people who have so many different opinions about war? How can you hope to spread a message about the war being horrific without playing into audience members’ misattributed feeling of empowerment in seeing acts of violence?

Though 1917 presents no glamour in rallying speeches against the war, no men uprising and defying orders, no men in triumphant charges promising glory, the film is antiwar by nature because of its truthful and tragic depictions of war itself, all scenes speak for themselves without focusing on any plain and political events to sway your mind to think anything different. It’s in the way corpses are shown buried in the mud. It’s in the casual comment about medals as bits of tin. It’s in the inclusion of cherry blossom trees. It’s in the way we see blank facial expressions jarringly different from happy faces. It’s in the way the boys spend a second too long looking at a dead man entangled in barbed wire. We see these messages in the background and in subtlety of statements or gestures that throughout the film speak VOLUMES. These are characters in a film where war is the antagonist. It is imbedded in and has shaped the landscape. It has tainted nature and severed relationships. It is every obstacle these boys face. The enemy in this film has no country or nationality. The enemy is WAR. The scenes of the lieutenant trying to install courage into the men before they go over the top, the act of crossing no man’s land, running through the German occupied ruins, the dogfight: these are all instances which would have had all cameras in usual war films idolising them as major pivotal moments because they’re action! They’re getting the audience into the moment! But in 1917, these moments are seen as background ludicrous CHAOS. Background NONSENSE. You as the audience have stepped back and viewed the war in one fluid and continuous shot, and you understand just how RIDICULOUS it was. 1917 instead purposefully showed more emphasis and depth towards scenes about decaying life, wasted life, and devastated landscapes to trivialise the short- lived “thrill” an audience receives from pointless acts of violence, and instead forces you to consider the aftermath and cost of those acts. And I LOVE that.

And the fact we focus on only two characters not only puts the enormity of the situation into perspective but also makes the story easier to grasp and follow and to empathise with. You are this omnipotent being witness to the absurdity of it all. And you have to watch the slow burn of these characters’ progressive awareness of that absurdity.

This is why using one shot is BRILLIANT for this film. Using one shot creates this 360 degree cohesive reality. It doesn’t cheat by using specific stylised shots to sway your emotions, nor does it use cuts to severe or censor those emotions: it relies on the realness and rawness of that truthful continuity to strip the audience of visually hiding behind cinematic breaks. To show things unapologetically and for exactly how they are is something that frighteningly amplifies the authenticity of these moments. You are forced to sit uncomfortably through scenes that you don’t want to see in their entirety! There aren’t any cuts or cinematic close ups to give your eyes a break from focusing on something that upsets you: you have to watch real time a person’s life slip away as though you are standing there with them, you have to watch real time the way a character’s face and body shifts when their world comes crashing down and it is agonising. You go through lengthy shots sometimes of people just walking, or sitting, and they are unexpectedly heartbreaking given the context of the afore scenes. And because these moments are not left out, you gain an extension to empathising with and understanding that character. And to have talented actors who flawlessly depict these changes is PHENOMENAL.

And while my emotions were building like a water balloon over the course of the film as I was trying so hard to keep back from sobbing in a cinema full of people, there was one scene that caught me so off guard I almost lost it.

It’s not exactly a spoiler because it doesn’t really give away any plot essentials and it was already shown in the trailer, but I’ll warn anyway: minor spoiler.

When the soldier is singing “Wayfaring Stranger” to the company of men in the forest. The camera pans around to all these quiet men attentively listening to the song. At first you just see helmets, you just see the backs of uniforms and webbing, you don’t see anyone’s face. But when the camera swung around to reveal their identities.... my heart DROPPED. You see all these soldiers are distinctly young. Here I am expecting to see older moustached men as we’re always shown in WWI movies, and I almost broke down when I saw a film actually acknowledged the painful truth that a lot of these soldiers were children. When we see these soldiers from the back, we have this image of battle hardened men, because it’s what we assume them to be. And it hits you.... really hard..... when the camera swings around, and you find out the men under those countless helmets.... are just kids. And that was REALLY impactful and literally chokes me up to even write about aaahhh

TLDR; 1917 was tragic and heart wrenching and terrifying but so well done, please go see it :’) and @ Sam Mendes please release that cover of Wayfaring Stranger so I can listen to it instead of the poor quality recording someone took of it in the cinema I will pay money for it!! I support that singer he was amazing!!

[danjo-ao3]

When Ashes Fall p.3

Pairing: Reaper/female Reader

Summary: You are a combat medic working for Overwatch, when a mission goes south and you cross paths with Talon mercenary Reaper. But will he kill you on the spot or is there more to this encounter?

Rating: 18+

Tags/Warnings: rape/non-con, violence, blood, emotional manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping

Word count: 52,215 (in 5 parts)

A/N: the warnings are clear on this one. Yes, there is going to be rape/non-con, and it’s going to get explicit. I strongly advise anyone who is not into that kind of story to turn back around, because this is going to get pretty heavy and will finally be the non-con story with Reaper that I had always wanted to write.

Part 3 / 5 (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)

***

You got ready for another day at the lab, trying to forget all about last night. Be a good little assistant to very important Dr. O’Deorain.

Casey was her cheerful self as she greeted you over the bagel she had snuck inside the lab while she cast around slightly nervous glances as the doctor had chided her once for bringing food into her lab.

“It’s silly, don’t you think? It’s not even touching anything. I’m always careful.” With a small roll of her eyes she popped the last bite into her mouth, then wiped her hands on her white coat. “So what’s up, how did that op go?”

You frowned at the mention of the mission.

“It uh, it was a success,” you offered, as you went to sit down at one of the tables with lab equipment.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” She followed you to the workstation and sat down next to you, but only after pushing her chair a little closer to yours. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. “I heard that you had to work with Reaper.”

Oh no.

You raised your gaze to hers, pleading with your eyes to not go there, but she just pushed her glasses up her nose and raised her eyebrows at you.

“Well, what is he like? I’ve heard so many different things about him, and I want to know which of it is true.” With a huff, she sat back in her chair, one finger at her chin and casting her eyes towards the ceiling in thought. “I only ever see him when he’s, you know—” She motioned towards the empty examination table in the middle of the room. “—when he’s knocked out.”

Your eyes followed to where she pointed. Unsure what to tell her you asked her to specify instead.

“Well, what have you heard?” Maybe she’d get that you didn’t feel like talking about it the more you got her to rant.

“That he,” She got closer again. “That he drains people.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

“They say that when you’re lucky, he’ll shoot you with those shotguns he carries around. But if not, he’ll leave you a husk.” By the end of her sentence she was almost whispering, like she was telling a ghost story by the campfire.

A husk. That was kind of what you’d felt like after that encounter.

Your gaze fell to the floor. “I actually didn’t see him in action, he went alone. I was simply...patching him back up after it was all done.”

Casey sat back, her curious expression turning to one of disappointment. “Oh well, what a shame. I bet he’s really scary in action.”

You couldn’t believe her. As if working alongside a homicidal murderer was anything but terrifying and to avoid at all cost. Scary wasn’t even beginning to cut it. Red shining orbs flitted through your memory and had you suppress a shiver.

“Yeah, I guess.” You answered meekly.

“Are you alright?” Casey cocked her head to the side, the messy bun on her head flipping along.

“Sure, I’m just tired.” It was true, you were still feeling drained from all the healing you’d had to do. You wouldn’t be up to your normal self for at least another day, that was for sure.

“How bad was it? I remember once when he was here—you should have seen it—he’d been barely able to hold shape, it had seemed like his entire left arm was missing.” She shook herself in abhorrence. “But, as usual, he made a full recovery. If you can call it that, I suppose.”

You winced. Surely, it couldn’t have been worse than what you’d seen the night before. The image of that dark mass, mist swirling around and shifting in and out of human shape, would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“It was pretty bad.” What an understatement. “But, aside from the worst of his wounds, he seemed to be able to heal himself pretty effectively. How exactly does he do that?” Now that you remembered, he had not called upon you for the first half hour or so, until the mist had finally decided on where to take form.

Casey blew out a frustrated breath. “I wouldn’t know. Dr. O’Deorain doesn’t tell me the details of her work on him. Only the necessary parts, to get him back into shape. But what is in the serum that I administer, I don’t know. She’s very secretive about that project of hers.”

Well, whatever was in it seemed to be responsible for the state he was in, you were sure of it. Wraith serum, your brain helpfully provided, and you suppressed a sarcastic laugh. Ridiculous!

The rest of your day was uneventful, thankfully. You worked alongside Casey in the lab to get some tests done on a few blood samples, put a couple of liquids in the centrifuge and took notes while Casey examined slides under the microscope. It was nice. Distraction.

Only when you went to bed that evening, new nightmares plagued you. They came every night now. Terrifying you in different ways. Sometimes your mind provided a visual manifestation of your fears, but mostly it was just this feeling of darkness creeping over you, consuming you in every possible way and stealing the air from your lungs. Replacing precious oxygen with black mist that made you feel like drowning.

Every early morning you woke with a start, sometimes with a hoarse shout, other times with your breath choking on a silent scream. Always with a frantically beating heart that would take a while to calm down. This was starting to adversely affect the amount of rest you got. You felt tired all the time, when you tried to concentrate it was almost impossible to focus for more than five minutes. All of that was giving you regular headaches now.

Today marked a week since your mission with Reaper. You wiped at moist eyes after this night’s terror. Sluggishly, you got to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Those always helped to calm you down, to get the adrenalin out of your bloodstream.

When you were ready and dressed, you made your way to the lab, where Casey was already pipetting on the work table. She was always present when you got in, it was almost like she was sleeping there. First to come, last to leave.

“Morning, Casey. Already at it again, huh?”

She answered without looking away from where she was currently squeezing blue liquid onto a clear gel. “Yep, you know me. Always working.”

You smiled to yourself, Casey was the one constant in your life right now that made you feel an inkling of normalcy. In another life you might have even called her a friend. But here, at Talon, you weren’t naïve enough to believe even for a second that any one of those people thought you to be more than a tool.

The smile on your face fell flat, and you turned away to get a lab coat from the small locker in the corner. As you opened the narrow metallic door, the fine hairs at the back of your neck stood on end. A rhythmic droning was growing louder, foreboding and practically freezing you to the spot. Your eyes were staring unseeing at the coats when the door to the lab burst open.

You already knew who had entered the room, even without looking. The thunderous sound had been footsteps, you realized.

Shaking yourself minutely, you grabbed a coat, shrugged it on and closed the locker door silently.

Dr. O’Deorain had entered, her usual severe look on her face, followed by no one other than Reaper.

Your heart dropped. Somehow you had hoped to never see him again, even if it was delusional. He was dressed in his usual getup, right from the white mask on his face to thick black boots on his feet.

“Good morning,” Casey said cheerfully in greeting as she swiveled around on her stool with a smile, pipette still in hand. You didn’t miss how she took extra care to momentarily pause her work for the doctor.

“Yes, yes. Serum administration in two minutes,” Dr. O’Deorain said dismissively while she walked towards a table in the far corner. Reaper was already sitting down on the examination table, his armour creaking and clanking faintly.

You still stood with your back to the locker, not realizing that you had pressed yourself against it. Now that Reaper had sat down, he saw you. But he made no sign of acknowledgement aside from a small tilt of his head in recognition. Your heart had started to pound quite frantically.

Maybe you could excuse yourself, tell the doctor that you were ill or something. But just as you were about to open your mouth to ask, did Dr. O’Deorain address you.

“Please, come over here.”

Hesitantly, you peeled yourself away from the locker and made your way over to where she was standing over something. It was your amplifying glove that she had given you.

“Yes, doctor?”

“I would like for you to demonstrate how you use the glove. Testing has been rather rudimentary.” She sounded thoughtful, then lifted the object and proffered it to you. “The results from yesterday speak for themselves,” She went on with the faintest hint of a proud smile, “but I want to observe it myself.”

Your eyes darted from the glove to her face.

“Yeah, about that,” You began, and picked up the item carefully, but did not put it on yet. “It doesn’t seem to work.”

Dr. O’Deorain frowned.

“Nonsense. You used it, didn’t you?”

“I tried, but it hurt too much, too quickly.”

She looked mildly upset with that frown of hers as she made a thoughtful sound. Finally, she seemed to have come to a conclusion.

“You will show me, only that way I’ll know what might be wrong with it.” And with those final words she went to the corner and approached a cabinet. Her long fingers deftly entered a code and with a small beep, the door opened for her. Inside was quite a big apparatus that she grabbed and put on like a backpack. There were gloves attached to it as well and she proceeded to put them on. With a final tug at her left hand, she approached Reaper who was still sitting on the table, metal spikes and claws glinting faintly in the overhead lights.

About one and a half meters away from him she came to a stop, her left hand extended in front and aimed at the man on the table. Then something clicked and you could see an instantaneous connection between Reaper and Dr. O’Deorain. It was a kind of beam, very thin and purple-ish in color.

Reaper jerked and grunted when the beam connected with him. It was gyrating and twisting maliciously as it moved from him towards the doctor.

The sound he’d made had you bite down on your cheek, a faint pain blossoming in your mouth, the taste of blood spread and you swallowed subconsciously. You took a small step backwards, eyes glued to the now faintly purple glowing mask of Reaper, whose head snapped in your direction at your movement. It made you stop in your tracks, commanded your attention. As he was staring at you and the doctor used that beam on him, you could hear his clawed hands tightening on the metal of the table. The scratching sound was like nails on chalkboard, goosebumps rose on your arms in discomfort and you hugged yourself.

The urge to get out was making you tremble.

On the doctor’s back, the apparatus was equipped with a big, clear tube that was slowly starting to fill with purple liquid, or was it mist? You couldn’t tell. The longer she held that beam active, the more of the tube was filled. But it seemed to also have an effect on Reaper. He was starting to bend forward, his arms were slightly shaking where he gripped the table edge hard enough to leave marks, and his breath came in short huffs. He seemed to be in pain.

Your eyes wandered from Reaper’s hunched over form toward that of Dr. O’Deorain’s, who was still standing tall with her arm stretched out and connected with that beam of hers. Her face was gleaming in delight, eyes wide, her mouth split in a grin and in that moment you realized that this woman was just as dangerous as that masked maniac sitting to your right.

“Yes,” she said softly, almost inaudible over the hum of the beam. What was she doing? With a worried glance you checked for Casey, who was watching the whole ordeal from her seat not too far away, and—was she taking notes?

Abruptly, the humming stopped, the purple light vanished and the doctor withdrew her arm with a satisfied smile. She studied her left hand for a second, before her sharp, mismatched eyes met yours.

“All right, it’s your turn,” She addressed you curtly and nodded toward the amplifying glove.

“What—” You looked between her and Reaper uncertainly. “What was that?”

She chuckled as she removed her equipment and stowed it away again.

“This piece of cutting edge technology is my Biotic Grasp.” She explained, pride evident in her voice. With a swift motion, she produced a small drone from her pocket and placed it in mid air in front of her, where the little machine started to float and whirr softly. Next to her lay a data pad that she used to command the drone and have it float towards Reaper, little laser beams scanning his vitals.

You still stood there, a good few meters away from either of them, your hands balled into fists.

Dr. O’Deorain watched the data pad intently, while she kept explaining. “The beam you just saw is a derivative of the nanite technology, not unlike the one you have. But instead of regenerating someone, it does the opposite: it saps their energy. Their life force.”

Holy shit.

“I never understood why it was the medic’s duty to offer so much of themselves, when all the required energy is around, ripe for the taking. To redistribute as one sees fit. Enemies are always aplenty, especially in combat situations.”

Her monologue had you realize that she herself must have been a combat medic at one point.

“With this technology, I can equip anybody to do the required work, no training necessary.” A few taps to the pad and the drone hovered around Reaper to his backside, still scanning busily.

“I even managed to go further than that.” Her eyes flashed, your heartbeat accelerated. “I was able to directly implement this technology into the human body.” She laid aside the data pad and approached Reaper, who was still visibly struggling to even sit straight. Her hand reached out and boldly removed his mask.

Black mist rose in plumes from the hood, but from where you stood, you couldn’t see anything, his head was turned down and the darkness was hiding his features.

“It does still have a few... side effects,” she murmured, then used one finger underneath Reaper’s chin to lift his head enough for you to see his face.

You held your breath.

This was the first time when no smoke could conceal him, no darkness; when you were fully conscious and your sight not hindered by anything. The first time had been glances into a dark pond, in the twilight of evening, where the depths of it had been nigh invisible and only the blood red moon had been reflected on its surface. The second time was during midday, the sunrays penetrating the water and illuminating the very ground of the pond, even though it was still murky.

But this time?

This time it was as if the entire pond had been emptied, the unforgiving sun had evaporated all the water, only a few traces of mist remained. And you could see everything.

His eyes were currently closed, a deep frown edged into his brow and a scowl twisted his mouth and revealed pearly white sharp teeth.

The scars were even more prominent now than they had previously been, they were numerous and seemed to be very old. He’d have looked like a normal man—who had gone through some rough shit—hadn’t it been for the greyish tint to his skin that made him look deceased.

Finally, his eyes opened, slowly blinking upward towards the light.

Again, your heart dropped.

The garish lamps overhead cast their light directly into the red orbs of his eyes, making them glow brighter than you’d ever seen before. He blinked once, then their fiery red fell onto Dr. O’Deorain.

She still had her index finger underneath his chin, tilted his face towards herself, and beckoned for the little drone to approach. The small lasers scanned Reaper’s retinas, he didn’t even blink; he simply stared ahead, seeing right through the doctor.

Now that you could see his face in its entirety, you got the feeling that he looked familiar. But you couldn’t remember how.

The little drone beeped softly, signalling that its scan was complete, and Dr. O’Deorain let go of the man in front of her to once again consult the data pad.

Slowly, Reaper let his head fall forward again, but not before his eyes found yours.

It was like staring into the eyes of the devil. Had you been Catholic, you’d have crossed yourself. Even so, the urge to do it made you hug yourself even tighter.

You couldn’t look away, even though he was obviously weakened by whatever the doctor had done to him, he was still able to hold himself up. Slowly, his mouth opened, even more black mist rising from it, like cigarette smoke. Paired with the look he gave you it was very...suggestive.

You bristled and averted your eyes.

Casey was still busily writing things down from where she sat a few meters away.

“Go on now,” Dr. O’Deorain reminded you impatiently from the left.

You couldn’t postpone it any longer, with an internal sigh, you went and put on the doctor’s glove. Casting wary glances at Reaper, you went as far as was necessary, which was still closer than you liked, extended your arm and prepared yourself for the worst.

Unsure of where to aim—there were no visible wounds or anything—you directed the gentle golden spray at his chest, where it dissipated into nothing on contact. After a few seconds, he was already starting to relax, his grip on the table was loosening, as were his drawn shoulders. The scowl on his face remained though, that was probably permanent...

Just when Reaper released a quiet breath of relief, did you feel the numbness spread out and up your entire arm. This time, the following pain came with a vengeance.

You tried to suppress the grunt, but it came so quickly and unbidden, that it was impossible. Reaper seemed to be studying you now, no longer looking through you. His red eyes were jumping from your hand, to your forearm, and finally landed on your face.

As his breathing was becoming calmer and easier, yours was starting to grow heavy. Keeping your arm extended was proving to be too much already, you had to use the other arm for support, wondering when this was done.

All the while Dr. O’Deorain was standing to your right, rapt with attention at witnessing her creation.

“I—I can’t. This is too much,” you ground out and already wanted to move away again, but suddenly the doctor pulled you into her and took a firm hold of your arms.

“You’re not done yet,” she said right next to your ear and a shiver ran through you at the memory of those same words spoken by the very man sitting in front of you.

The sheer surprise of having the doctor reacting in that way and to manhandle you like that, had you in shock. For someone who was usually sitting in a lab, she was surprisingly strong. The grip she was having on you was unforgiving.

Now you were left to watch as the spray kept coming, your arm was cramping up so badly you wondered if it was ever going to relax again.

As your eyes were now fixed on your arm, held tightly in Dr. O’Deorain’s grip, you saw your veins standing out in dark contrast to your skin. They were shimmering with a bluish tint.

“Hng!” you exclaimed. The pain was almost intolerable. “Please, doctor—”

“Just a little more.”

You whimpered, face scrunched up in agony.

Then you heard Reaper snarl, your eyes shot up to his face, black mist was starting to rise from him again. The look on his face was exuding annoyance. His hand came forward to snatch your arm out of the doctor’s grip; she was just as surprised as you were, because she let go immediately, letting him pull you away from her.

Even though he was still wearing his gauntlets, he was able to deftly peel off the glove from your numb hand with ease. His claws left white marks where they lightly scratched against your skin, but you barely felt it.

You just stood there, passively letting him work, watching while you caught your breath.

When he had finally managed to remove the glove completely, he flung it at Dr. O’Deorain, who caught it with an almost comical expression of surprise.

“Back to the drawing board, doc,” he said drily.

Watching the many emotions flitting over Dr. O’Deorain’s face was both alarming, but also strangely satisfying.

With a final huff of indignation, the doctor turned on her heel, glove in hand, and made a beeline for the exit.

Almost immediately, Casey jumped up from her spot and hurried after the doctor and out of the lab.

You grimaced.

A light tug on your hand made you realize that Reaper was still holding it, now examining the many purple veins adorning your skin.

Now that the glove was off, you could finally see the full damage it had wrought. With a shocked gasp, you reflexively pulled free of the man’s loose hold on you and studied your skin with horror.

The discoloration wasn’t like anything you’d ever seen before. Like ugly bruises they were criss-crossing all over your skin. Were these going to be permanent, would they be there until the end of your life?

Tears threatened to spill from your burning eyes. This was a nightmare...it couldn’t be true. Your arm looked like it was dying, like it could fall off any minute now.

Feeling faint, you backed up until you hit the workbench behind you, felt blindly for a stool and slowly sank down onto it. But even though your world was crashing down around you, no tears were coming.

“This is all your fault,” you accused Reaper. Instead of breaking down in tears, your body decided it was feeling aggressive instead, and even though you were mostly angry at the doctor right now, the only one whom you could antagonize was Reaper. And you had enough reason to be mad at him, too.

There was no reaction from where he still sat on the examination table. Why was he still here, anyway?

“If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be with my friends right now, drinking coffee and doing fun shit or something.” Well, it was partially true. There wasn’t always a lot of time for people in Overwatch to actually do anything besides training, paper work, or going on missions. But there had been the occasional meetup over coffee and a nice piece of strawberry cake.

“If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be dead,” Reaper finally answered in his gravelly voice, then got off the table to land on the floor with a loud thud from his steel boots.

Your head whipped around to glare at him.

“Better off dead than being a pawn for terrorists and murderers!”

The man crossed his arms in front of himself, the scowl on his face deepening. “You think working for Overwatch is morally superior?”

“Obviously.”

He tsked.

“Overwatch is a joke. Always has been.”

“Right, I bet you know all about it,” you said sarcastically, idly rubbing your right arm back to life.

“I do.”

All right, you would bite.

“How?”

“I was there.” He reached for his abandoned mask that lay on the workbench beside you, heavy footsteps making you tense as he approached.

“Before it was disbanded, Overwatch was a giant façade for some of the richest people in the world to play war.” Mask in hand, he looked at it pensively. “We all were pawns for them, given the illusion of being in command. We were, sort of. I commanded my team in the shadows, we were the ones who didn’t even have to play by Overwatch’s official rules.”

Slowly, you realized he was talking about Blackwatch and goosebumps rose on your skin. It couldn’t be. Maybe that’s why he seemed so familiar.

Finally, he looked at you, but his eyes were far away, in the past.

“The ones up top, those we never got to meet, they were pulling the strings. And we were the expendable private militia they could send to their enemies in their stead.”

He turned to you. “Nothing we were told to do was ever for the greater good,” he finished, the light in his red eyes burning.

“Even if all of this were true, why not fight it from the inside then? Instead, you decided to go full maniac and became an official bad guy?” You were treading on thin ice, but he must have been lying to you. Never before had you heard any of these accusations, they sounded baseless and frankly, ludicrous.

You were familiar with Overwatch history, at least the official stories they’d taught you at the beginning at orientation. Had they omitted these details?

The ghost of a smile flitted across his features. “I decided to fight fire with fire.” Then he leaned against the tabletop with his claws resting against its surface, aligning himself to you two side by side with just a few meters in between.

You snorted.

“Is this why you run around dressed like that?” You pointed at his getup, it felt good to poke fun at him like this. But you were also wary about how far you could to push him.

But even as you spoke that last sentence, Reaper suddenly narrowed his eyes at you. It wasn’t in anger, though, but rather in intrigue. He was staring openly at your neck. Self-consciously, you let go of your right arm to reach up to the spot instead.

It was the same one that Ogundimu had inspected after your mission. This particular memory, how he had brushed away your hair, it opened the floodgates to all the other things that had happened on that night.

You were shocked that he was still able to see it. When you’d tried to catch a glimpse of it in a mirror, it was almost impossible because of its position so far back. And the mission had been like a week ago, the mark—whatever it was—should have faded by now.

“I’ve gotta go,” you blurted and abruptly stood from the stool, almost toppling it over in your haste.

You didn’t get very far, your wrist was gripped tightly by a hard, cold steel gauntlet stopping you from leaving. In a state of shock and disbelief you saw your badly discolored arm in his claws around it, and like a wild animal caught in a snare, your body went into fight or flight mode.

With jerking movements, you pulled hard to get free, you threw your entire weight away from where he held you and even kicked at him.

“Stop that,” he grunted, but only sounded mildly disgruntled, and somehow that made you calm down enough to stop your struggling.

“Let me go,” you demanded, emphasizing your point with a tug. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he studied your damaged hand.

“I must know…” he said ominously and removed one gauntlet with his teeth. It clattered on the tabletop noisily, making you jump. The skin of his hand was darker than that of his face, you noticed, as he used the pads of three fingers to lightly touch your bluish forearm.

“W—what are you doing?” You demanded to know, trying to pull away again.

He hummed darkly in thought, tracing small patterns on your skin. The motion sent shivers up your arm and through your entire body. Your eyes anxiously darted between where he was currently touching you and his face. The sensation was disconcerting, but also—you were hesitant to admit—kind of pleasant. A faint blush spread on your cheeks.

All of a sudden, he used the grip he had on your wrist to pull you a little closer and took a hold of your other hand as well.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, and once again tried to break free. And once again, failed.

With all the time in the world, and the strength of a fucking machine, he raised your good arm and laid your hand against the side of his neck, then held it in place.

Now you were...touching him, you felt so repelled by the mere thought of it, that your face twisted in abhorrence.

“Heal me,” he commanded in a low voice.

The audacity. Anger rose up inside you.

“Fuck you!” You uttered with vigor and stubbornly held still without doing a thing for him. What would he need healing for, anyway; you’d just healed him mere minutes ago. He was insatiable!

He growled.

“Do it.”

You pushed your luck.

“No.”

The two of you stared at each other in varying degrees of frustration.

What were you doing? Reaper could easily tear you apart if he so desired, why were you defying him like that? A small voice answered how the last time you healed him through direct touch it resulted in things that still caused you nightmares to this day.

With a snarl, the man pulled you into him and to the side, to push you on top of the examination table. He followed closely, to pin both your wrists to the tabletop, right next to your head. You lay there awkwardly, while your upper body was on the table, your feet still touched the ground lightly, and Reaper now stood over you, holding you down. He was right in your face, too.

“Do you have a death wish, girl?” He was furious, the glowing red orbs of his eyes were burning brightly, dark mist was rising off of him in waves. You guessed he wasn’t used to people not following his orders. All you could do was stare, your head was still spinning from where it had hit the steel table. It hurt like a bitch. Your spine too, how it was bent so uncomfortably.

When you didn’t answer fast enough, his eyes narrowed, his gaze flitted over your face. Finally, he shifted, moved in between your legs so they fell open and around his thighs.

Your blush deepened and your heart stuttered.

“Or is it something else you wish for,” he murmured, eyes falling to your lips.

Oh god, no.

You blinked through the headache and weakly started to struggle again. Of course, you couldn’t even move him a millimeter.

“Nng—don’t…” you gasped, averting your eyes to the side when you couldn’t dislodge him.

Surprisingly, he let go of your wrists, instead his fingers tilted your head towards him. You would never get used to these eyes, you thought, as you were forced to look into them once more.

“Heal me,” he repeated himself, a solemn expression on his ashen face.

You shivered, silently pleading for him to just stop. But the determination in his eyes told you that he was ready to go as far as he needed in order to get what he wanted.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

Arm shaking, you slowly reached for his face. That was the only place where you could touch his skin, and as you did so you had to push down the fear of the consequences. He was watching your hand as it moved, the last centimeter was the hardest part. You were hoping he might help by closing the distance, but he stayed in place. Then you finally touched him, your fingers twitching.

Concentrating on your breathing, which was way too fast, you sent out a gentle wave of healing. It took only a second before Reaper closed his eyes and exhaled in satisfaction.

His breath faintly brushed against your face, he was that close.

You kept the healing stream low on purpose, you’d already given it your all to heal him with Dr. O’Deorain’s glove. No need to go all in this time.

To an outsider this must have looked like a scene between two lovers; the way he was bent over you and you practically cradling his face while he obviously enjoyed what you were doing… good thing there was nobody else present.

His eyes were still closed as you felt his fingers loosen their hold on your chin to gently brush down the front of your neck.

“W—wait,” you stammered and momentarily broke the contact on his face. As you had feared the direct healing was having the same effect on him as the last time.

The second your palm left his cheek, his eyes flew open and his still gloved hand shot up to press it back into place. “More,” he growled in that eerie, dark voice.

If you kept going like this you would collapse again, it was simply too much. That damn glove did something to your nanites that seemed to make them work in overdrive and use all your resources at once. At least that’s what it felt like.

“I think that’s enough,” you said meekly and simply stopped the healing output, glassy eyes staring at Reaper, probably not without an air of a challenge in them.

When he felt the healing stop altogether, Reaper scowled. “I say when it’s enough.”

“No!” You’ve had it up to here with him. “No, you don’t! I get to say when it’s done. And I say it is done,” you yelled and snatched your hand out of his to cradle against your chest. “I’m not your personal health pack!” Just damn this man to hell.

At your blatant display of insubordination, he went through multiple stages of disbelief and anger, followed by one of his growls.

In the blink of an eye he had grabbed you under the thighs and pushed you completely on top of the table, crawled over you, put a knee between your legs and pressed against your core roughly with how he held himself on top.

When you wanted to protest against him manhandling you like that, he simply brought his hand that was still in the gauntlet, up and around your throat, effectively cutting off any of your words. The only thing that left your mouth were short gasps now.

He bared his teeth at you, his fiery red orbs almost burning a hole through your skull.

You whimpered.

“I am—” he began loudly, then stopped to think over his words. “I haven’t felt... anything like this in…” he drifted off, eyes darting between different spots on your face. You wondered what he saw there, what he was trying to tell you all of a sudden. Not that you were the least bit interested to know the inner machinations of this utter lunatic. Maybe when this was all over you’d write a book about it, you would call it ‘My Life With The Murderer’.

Only that when this was going to be over, you’d likely be dead.

“Why do you do it?” The question startled you, what did he even mean? You’d done as he’d asked, you’d healed him. Simple as that.

Your frown deepening, you mouthed your answer and that’s when he must have realized that his heavy hand on your windpipe was hindering your speech. He loosened it just a fraction and you breathed in as deeply as it allowed you to.

“I don’t know what—”, you coughed, “what you mean.”

“No. You know,” he ground out and leaned forward a fraction. “Why, mariquita? Is it to weaken me, to catch me off guard?” He hummed, his voice had taken on a velvety smoothness to its coarse undertones and it made your shiver. “Someone set you up to do this.” Again, he searched your face while his eyes squinted. “Was it Akande, Maximilien?”

The way he seemed to be convinced that somebody had ordered you to, what, seduce him made you exhale in a short hysterical laugh. What utter nonsense.

But your laughing made him tighten the grip on your neck again, he didn’t seem to find this the least bit funny.

“If that is what you tried to achieve, then I’ll give them what they want.” And with those words he closed the distance to press his mouth against yours.

With wide eyes you stared into his, panic rising in your chest. The sheer malice on his face was not a good sign for what was about to come. Then you remembered that your hands were currently free and you pushed at him with all your might. But he just gripped your throat harder, the pressure inside your head was painful, and the lack of air had you open your mouth to gasp.

Reaper used that opening to lick inside and over your tongue. The smell and taste of him were assaulting your senses just like the constant pressure against your neck and groin. Failing to push him off, your hands flew to his wrist where he was cutting your airflow off instead.

Your eyes were burning, tears were gathering at the corners and a single one traced down the side of your face to disappear into your hairline. This was it, just a few more seconds and you’d suffocate. Black spots were dancing at the edges of your vision, your muscles spasmed with the lack of oxygen in your blood, and you whimpered.

When he pulled away it was like coming up from deep water, as if you broke its surface and could finally breathe again. Everything hurt, but especially your chest and your head. You moaned in pain in between deep breaths. The cold from the metallic examination table was seeping into your bones and had them ache as well.

It took you a little while to get your breathing under control again, your numb fingers had slipped off his gauntlet and fallen limply to the side, but he still had a secure hold on you. Finally, you managed to look him in the eyes again.

You were at his mercy once more, your life was literally in his hands. Already his grip threatened to tighten again.

When you tried to speak, it only came out as a whisper. “Please,” you swallowed and another tear ran down your face. “No more.”

You couldn’t do this again, the choking was a horror you hadn’t ever experienced before and it had you on edge so much you thought you might have a heart attack.

The malice that had previously distorted his face had ebbed down a bit, he seemed to be more pensive right now with how he was watching your face and let his gaze wander over your heaving chest. Finally, his gauntlet left your neck to brush down your front, claws scratching you unpleasantly and sending shivers down your spine.

Wordlessly, he moved his hand over your chest where your lab coat had fallen open and lightly squeezed your breast through your thin shirt, his talons dangerously close to piercing your skin.

You held your breath in fear, there was nothing you could do to deter him if he wanted to do... that to you, and the realization had you sniffling pathetically as you turned your head to the side.

Meanwhile his gauntlet moved further down your belly to push under the hem of your shirt. The cold, pointy ends of his claws made you shiver violently as they moved to where your bra was, bunching up your top in the process. The razor sharp tips of his talons made short work of your bra, it snapped in half right in the middle, and you flinched at the feeling of the elastic going slack.

You hid your face in the crook of your shoulder when he bared you to his gaze, light tremors running through your entire body.

For a while, nothing happened. He cruelly left you anticipating his next move.

Then, gradually, you felt him shift above you, his fingertips lightly brushed between your breasts and circled around your left nipple, pebbling it in the process. It tickled, made you squirm. When he rolled it between two fingers, you tensed and tried to turn away and to the side, but bumped into his arm that he currently used to prop himself above you.

“Don’t be shy now, mariquita,” he murmured, suddenly very close to your ear, you could feel his breath on your skin. “We’re just getting started. This is what you’ve been sent to do.”

Oh god, you’d never recover from this. This was the most nightmarish, fucked up excuse for foreplay you could imagine.

He kept breathing in your ear, nipping at the lobe and lightly kissing your neck while his hand kept playing with your nipple.

Soon, the blush was returning to your cheeks. As fucked up as it was, it was still foreplay, and your body reacted to the stimuli it was given, regardless of its source.

“I—I wasn’t sent by...by anyone!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he growled, but kept his ministrations gentle. It was messing with your head. Your anxiety level was through the roof.

“I’m not…” you sobbed, trailing off. This was not helping at all, it was no use. He wouldn’t believe you.

“I know it was me who found you,” Reaper started, “but it was Akande who teamed us up. I had wondered what his intentions had been.” He kept fondling your breasts, and even though you were terrified, your body was starting to get aroused with it. Tingles went down between your legs, made you want to press them together, but Reaper’s armored knee was still nestled against you intimately.

He hummed in thought. “I will find out why you...” he nosed into your neck, “affect me so. A little indulgence in the meantime won’t hurt.”

Won’t hurt you, you thought bitterly.

Reaper’s knee ground against you, so hard that it pushed you up the table with it. The shock of it had you tilt your head back towards him, ready to protest again.

But he simply kissed away any words that had been on your tongue. He was rougher now than before, his mouth forcing yours to open wide and he invaded it boldly with his tongue. It was an all consuming kind of kiss, one that would have you swooning had you not been lying down already. Still, it made your head swim and your legs shake where they tried to squeeze together around Reaper’s thick thigh. He groaned at the feeling of you squirming around him, his bare hand moving from your breast to the fly of your jeans to pop open the button.

His mouth was still slotted against yours, stealing your breath away in a passionate dance.

You were hesitant to admit it, but it was a really good kiss, with the right partner you’d have loved it, given yourself to him without a second thought. Alas, this was Reaper, and the terror you felt at the thought of being raped by him was all consuming.

But suddenly you felt him tugging at your pants, pulling them over your hips, and another wave of sheer panic momentarily gave your head some clarity.

“No,” you pulled away from the kiss, cast fearful eyes down your body and tried to slap his hands away from where they were currently tracing along the top of your panties.

With ease, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them both above your head in his gauntlet.

“Don’t,” your voice broke on the last syllable, “please.” Tears were finally streaming down your face, you couldn’t keep it together any longer.

He paused, cocked his head.

“Poor girl,” he cooed and brushed some of the tears away with his thumb. “You are but an instrument, to be used by one and then by another. This is your place now.” He kissed your brow and drew back again, unphased by your revulsion. “This is what Akande wanted, so it is what he’ll get.” His voice turned cold. “Send him my regards.”

Apparently he was really under the impression that Ogundimu had instructed you to do this, the mere thought that maybe that was true, that Ogundimu thought of you as someone to whore out to teammates acting up made you sick to your stomach. What was the purpose of that, though? Distraction, dependency?

Reward?

Your musings were interrupted when Reaper resumed what he’d been doing previously, his bare hand moved down to your jeans and pushed them down, along with your panties, until they bunched around your knees.

To get them further down though, he had to momentarily get off of you, and it was in that moment that you saw your chance to get out. His hold on your wrists was easily broken when he was so focused on your bottom half. One hard tug and your hands were free, twisting to the side you managed to dodge his renewed attempt at catching you and your legs could slide out beneath him on the smooth metal of the examination table. The fall to the floor was painful, but the adrenalin in your system helped to ignore it as you collected your limbs underneath you and got up to your feet. A quick tug on your pants and you had them up around your hips again, the way to the door beckoning you.

Four long strides and the door almost in reach, but there was a black mass swirling in front of you now. It was Reaper’s black mist, you recognized from where you had stopped in your tracks, too shocked to look away. The mist was swirling, folding in on itself and finally taking on human shape.

This was straight out of a horror novel and you yelped in surprise.

The first part of him that was truly identifiable as human were his eyes, burning through the mist in their demonic color. The rest of his face followed suit, then his body materialized, already reaching out for you.

Too late you stumbled backwards.

In the blink of an eye you were whirled around and pressed against the doors that you had so desperately tried to reach a moment ago.

Reaper was holding you by the arms, a manic glint in his eye.

“You think you can run from me?” He sounded amused and it was almost convincing, hadn’t it been for the way his hands held you in a vice like grip, painfully tight.

That had been your very last chance of escape.

His rhetorical question hung above you heavily. No, you didn’t actually think that, it had been a knee jerk reaction of your body to flee.

“I’m—” His gauntlet on your mouth stopped you mid-sentence. He had pushed even closer to be able to release one of your arms and shush you like this. You cast wary eyes his way and saw that he was looking off to the side.

It seemed like he was listening for something.

Then you heard it: footsteps were fast approaching from the outside. Your eyes went wide. Who was coming to the lab? Were they going to try and come inside? Maybe you could cry for help…

Any hope that dared to blossom in your heart was crushed by the realization that nobody in this building was likely to help you at all, especially with Reaper. You were convinced that most people were afraid of him, yourself included. Hell, you were the president of club Reaper Is Scary.

With his finger against his lips Reaper signaled for you to be silent, not that you could have made a sound anyway. The sound grew ever louder and finally they came to a stop on the other side of the door.

You strained your ears for any clues on who it might be, but all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears.

Then, a knock.

It almost made your heart stop right then and there. Wide eyed you stared at the man in front of you, not daring to make a sound. You were acutely aware of how Reaper was pressed to you, all hard edges and cold metal.

Casey called your name from outside. “Hey, are you there?” Her voice sounded muffled through the thick walls. “I forgot my keycard when I left. Can you let me in?”

What would Casey say if she saw you like this, half naked with bruised lips by rough kisses from no one else but  Reaper . Would she be disgusted, or would she understand that this was not what it seemed? Really, you didn’t want to find out.

It felt like an eternity until Casey called your name and knocked one last time, followed by a silent curse and mention of finding Dr. O’Deorain to let her in, that told you she was going to leave and come back at a later time. Her footsteps disappeared down the hall.

You had closed your eyes in fear and only now cracked them open to tentatively watch what Reaper was doing. His face had softened somewhat, the fire in his eyes muted just a little. He was watching you intently, removed his hand from your mouth and took a step away from you.

Your knees buckled where you stood half leaning against the door with wild eyes, your hands fiercely clasping your lab coat to shield from view...and maybe more.

“This is not over, mariquita,” he promised darkly, then did his disappearing act again and vanished in a cloud of black mist right in front of you.

It took you a minute to breathe easy again. The darkness had lifted off of you for now, his presence was no longer looming above and you sobbed in relief. Your hands covered your face as tears were flowing freely again.

Your mind was blank, too many emotions were warring within you to make anything coherent of them. What you knew for certain was that you had to get out of this building and as far away as possible.

But what about Caleb?

[andinewton]

Can you please make something with Victor saying: “Can you forgive me?”

Hi!  Thank you so much for this!  It was the first one of the few over my different blogs I decided to do and I think it’s helped me getting back into the swing of writing!  I don’t know where this idea came from but here it is, I hope you’re not disappointed!

Prompt: Victor - Can You Forgive Me?

Victor marched through the many revellers enjoying the festival, his attitude not matching the atmosphere whatsoever.  You were here somewhere, with him, and it was all his own fault.  He was busy and had dismissed your request to attend the festival with you.  Actually, he had suggested that if you wanted to go you should find someone else who was interested in such frivolous activities to drag along.  That was his first mistake.  He would admit that to himself, for now, but one of his managers, that he knew had had his eye on you for some time, had overheard.  Not wanting to miss an opportunity, Victor suddenly had to deal with the fact that you had taken him at his word and agreed to attend the festival with said manager when asked.  Victor needed to find you, talk to you, and…apologise.  He loathed admitting he was wrong, but he was and for you he would admit it.  Only you.

The festival was in full swing as the sun began to set, but you found it hard to fully enjoy yourself.  You had been looking forward to this day for so long you couldn’t believe it had slipped your mind to ask Victor in advance, but you had, you blamed your busy schedule, and the result was Victor didn’t have the time.  Though, apparently, Dillon did.  Dillon was a reasonably new member of Victor’s financial team.  In the six months he had been at the company he had made quite a name for himself due to his confidence and attitude.  You admired him for his ability to make himself and his ideas heard by Victor without shying away, and you had hoped he would be pleasant company to wander around the festival with.  He had obviously overheard your conversation with Victor and offered himself in his place.  You thought he was being chivalrous.  You were wrong.

‘What do you say we go watch one of the shows in the pop-up theatres?’  He asked, walked close enough to you that your arms constantly brushed.  You had already moved your hands to clench in front of you so they wouldn’t rub together, as no matter what distance you put between you, he insisted on closing it.

Looking to the nearest of the small, tented theatres with their dim lighting you wrinkled your nose.  ‘I don’t really like small theatres.’  You tried to pass it off lightheartedly but, as with business, Dillon was determined to get his way.

‘Nonsense!  Who doesn’t like theatres?’

‘I actually wanted to try some of the speciality foods on offer.’  You glanced longing towards the nearest of the stalls, the many scents of sweet and savoury foods filling the air temptingly.  You really hoped he wouldn’t push the idea of the theatre any further.

Victor had often mused if he had another element to his evol, as he always instinctually seemed to know where you were, and that worked in his favour now.  He could see you pulling a face he could only call a grimace, as the big-headed jerk he so far hadn’t been able to find a reason to fire talked animatedly.  Watching for a moment he realised Dillon was dominating the conversation, something he had always admired you for, even if it was often meaningless, but it looked like he was more than talking your ear off.  He hated the guy, loathed him, and if not for his business acumen he would have got rid of him almost as soon as he started.  He could take suggestions, but this asshole seemed to take pleasure in proving people wrong.  Approaching slowly he went over in his head what he would say to get you away from him, but he heard as he reached you changed his plan entirely.

‘You could do with staying away from the speciality foods, if you get my meaning.  You want to keep this figure so you can land a good husband.’

As if the words weren’t enough he wrapped an arm around your waist and squeezed, actually squidged the small amount of flesh as though it was something much more.  Your eyes went wide as your temper flared, ready to give him what for, but you were beaten to it.

‘If you think a woman needs to curb her appetite to keep the likes of you happy, you have less common sense than a thumbtack.’  You both turned at the baritone of Victor’s voice and you realised he had Dillon’s wrist in his hand.  ‘You also don’t touch a lady without her permission.’

He snatched his hand back.  ‘She was okay with it.’

‘I damn well wasn’t!’  You replied.  ‘And I wasn’t okay with your implications about my weight and eating habits!’

‘No one wants a glutton for a wife, am I right, Mr Li?’  He looked to Victor for back up in some misguided notion of solidarity.

‘I like a woman not afraid to enjoy her food.’  Victor stepped between you and glared at him, hard.  ‘Which is why she’s my girlfriend, not yours.’

Dillon swallowed visibly but, impressively, managed to maintain eye contact.  ‘Girlfriend?’

‘The entire office is aware of our relationship, why aren’t you, if you’re as well informed as you claim to be?’

‘Well, I…’

‘Or were you planning on stealing away the woman your superior loves?’

‘Just being courteous.’  Dillon insisted, but there was uncertainty in his tone.  ‘But, now you’re here, I feel comfortable that she isn’t unescorted.  Goodnight.’

He left so quickly you could swear you saw a tail between his legs, and it was only when he was out of sight that you realised Victor was now looking at you.

‘Is this where you go on a jealous tirade about the company I keep?’  You sighed as you tilted your head to one side, waiting for the rant to come.

‘This is where I admit I’m wrong.’

You stared at him for almost a full minute before you reacted, certain you had misheard him.  ‘Come again?’

‘I was wrong.’  His voice was just low enough to hear over the crowd and you nodded to let him know you heard him, so he continued.  ‘Firstly, I should have realised you would want to come to this festival, you love festivals, and I love watching you at festivals.  Every single thing makes your eyes light up like a kind of magic comes over you.  Secondly, I should never have referred to something you enjoy as trivial.’

‘You called it frivolous, actually.’  You interrupted him, confidence-building in the face of his gentle expression.

‘Either way, I thought it was trivial, but it’s not, not at all, because it’s something you enjoy.  And seeing you happy makes me happy.  And, finally,’

‘Yes?’  You stepped infinitesimally closer to him, wondering what else there could be.

‘Can you forgive me?’

‘Victor,’ you stepped as close as you could and took his hand in yours, ‘I won’t forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive.  I could have asked you sooner but I kept forgetting, and you’re a very busy man.  One thing I will do, however, is thank you for saving me from what was probably the worst start to a festival I have ever experienced, all because of Mouthy McGee and his travelling ego.’

Victor couldn’t help himself, he laughed at your nickname and description and pulled you to him.  ‘Then we’re in agreement.’

‘Makes a change.’  You admitted with a grin.

‘Now, though, let’s get down to the important business when it comes to festivals.  Which first, sweet or savoury?’

Your face broke out in an excited smile that warmed Victor’s heart.  ‘I can’t decide which to go for first.’

‘Then how about we try each one as we come to it until you’re full?’

‘I knew I loved you for a reason!’  You bounced in his arms and landed a kiss beside his lips.  ‘Pick a direction!  My tastebuds are in your hands!’

Victor laughed, moving so you could walk together with his arm around you.  ‘As long as you promise me one thing.’

‘What’s that?’  You looked up at him, the move making your cheek press against his bicep.

‘That you remind me every time there’s a festival coming up in future so we can attend together.’

‘Deal.’  You agreed quickly, knowing you would love nothing more than to attend this and every other festival with him.

[paradise-creator]

Than,, thank you?? So much for the match up?? It warms my heart bby ;-;

Anyhow, here’s my description!!

She/her, Taurus, INTJ, slytherin

Personality: the first thing people notice about me is that I am less of a feeler and more of a thinker. I do have an IQ of 125, but my emotional intelligence is quite low, so I have trouble sympathizing with others. But I learned through experience, so I don’t SEEM emotionless. I can (and will) help my friends through tough times if they need me. I’m pragmatic, so I always go for the facts instead of the feelings during decision making or tough situations. I hold a lot of perfectionist traits that make it really hard for me to be satisfied with my results if they aren’t higher than the norm. I also have a slight issue with saying no, so sometimes I’ll offer my help or enrol myself in long-term projects while knowing I legit do not have time for more stuff on my schedule. Being a bit smarter than average, I sometimes feel like I’m obligated to help others so that they can do good too (however, I do like helping people with their hw to a certain extent). I’m working on those issues though!! I’m also an introvert, and I can get rlly tired if I have to be interacting for more than four hours straight with people, especially if their persona isn’t rlly compatible with mine.

However, when I’m surrounded by friends (or generally people who aren’t my superiors), I’m very energetic, loud, silly and I have a sharp tongue. My sense of humour goes from absolute nonsense to almost mean spirited sarcasm, but it all depends on who I’m talking to. I’m a MAJOR memer, I have a bunch of files filled with them, and I couldn’t bear be with people who didn’t understand my meme references. When I start liking something, I can get easily obsessed. I’m stubborn, therefore very passionate about the things I care about. I also have a slight case of the Endorphin Junkie, meaning that I really, really like the high you get after sports so I do crossfit training like five to six times a week. I’m unapologetically myself, and I will not ever change who I am to fit within the norm. I’m sometimes told that (that I’m odd, I mean), but I usually thank the people who tell me. I have a really, really big love for music and I have a tendency to break into song sometimes when people say a line from a song I know.

Appearance: I’m around 5’6”, with hazel eyes and brown hair that goes around to my shoulders. It gets curly out of nowhere. I can either wake up with straight hair or wake up with a freakin perm, it’s funny. My body isn’t exactly the lean type, I’m somewhere around the buff area of the scale instead, but as long as I seem visibly strong, I’m satisfied. When I’m not going anywhere significant, I usually just wear sport shirts and sweats, but I have a penchant for Dark Academia so I like /looking/ like I’m smart sometimes. And I have glasses bc apparently my eyes are assholes and they work too hard and it hurts my brain all the time

Likes: music (DavidBowieDavidBowieDavidBow-); I have a really wide range of music that goes from early 2000’s pop to 1700’s requiems. I enjoy studying theoretical fields, reading, and I like talking about Absurd Theories About Reality That Make Little To No Sense. I like sports, and I love joking around with friends in the most exaggerated ways. I also love the colour green and I’m more of a cat person

Dislikes: dogs (they’re cute but keep them away pls), ignorant people, irresponsible people, spiders, things I’m not good at from the beginning, having to deal with strangers being upset, crying (me. I don’t like crying; I mean me, I’m fine if my friends cry)

Other fun facts!!

- my goals for the future are all over the place; I want to work for Disney, I want to get a musical composition degree, I want a biomedical engineering bachelors degree, I want an astrophysics doctorate, I want to study languages, I want to be a foreign English teacher... I can’t ever decide.

- I have a long history with getting crushes on guys who turned out to be gay. It happens so often and I HATE IT, it makes me feel terrible.

- I!!love!!70’s!!music!!so!!much!! I was raised on that stuff, my dad wouldn’t let us listen to anything else

- Lol my favourite playlist name is Drugs Playlist But I Don’t Even Do Drugs it’s just a bunch of Pink Floyd and David Bowie songs

- My favourite movies are 80’s or 90’s comedy classics!! Like Wayne’s World, or Airplane!, or Night at the Roxbury. I keep quoting Wayne’s World and no one understands :(

Lol it’s very long I Apologize

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Dreamscape

- Study date

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Kuroo Tetsuro, The captain of Nekoma

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

The reasons why I paired you

-Honestly it took me a while to think on who you would match with (You just remind me so much if my best friend that I ship with Yams-)

- I had Sugawara or Kunumi in mind but I decided that Kuroo would be a perfect match! (THAT HEIGHT DIFFERENCE THO)

- Kuroo is a very smart man and he's also very observant.

- So you might lack in the expressing emotions, Kuro's got you (He'll buy those flip plishies to know your mood or smth like that)

- And though Kuroo is the outgoing type, he will definitely respect your boundaries

- I mean Kenma is a major introvert so Kuroo will know what to do

- Not only that! Kuroo has this sense of protectiveness and motherly vibes (Canon Kuroo that is-). So he will definitely take care of you

- He has his iconic hyena laugh, Meme exchange is a must! And you both would often have laughing fits.

- Did I mention that he'll take care of you?

- He absolutely and I mean absolutely adores your passion for music like yes

-He loves your style and the two of you would often have matching couple outfits.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Dreamscape

(A surprise drabble!)

"Out of everyone, YOU GOT A GIRL FIRST?!?" Yaku yelled as his eye twitched. "Got that right, Yakkun," Kuroo then said with a smirk. "And you are still as single as ever, docosahexaenoic acid. Still chasing after the same girl, huh?" He added as he patted the shorter male's shoulders. "And so what?!?" Yaku yelled back. "And the Demon-senpai strikes again," Kuroo stated as he backed away. "Kuroo-senpai! Can you tell us about her?" Lev asked enthusiastically. "You seem enthusiastic," Kenma said. Then Lev restarted back and it became a one sided argument.

Soon enough, the drama died down and Kuroo started to talk about his one and only. "She's amazing~" He started. "She's a bit odd but I love her nonetheless. She kinda reminds me of Kenma and Bokuto in a way. She loves music and would often send me some songs to listen," And that was the start of a half hour rant of his girlfriend. Right then and there, Lev regretted his decision.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Study date

Kuroo and his Oxytocin (lover), were having a small study date. They were in Kuroo's house and were enjoying their little date time before they study. The Mario team song was playing as the two were racing. "YES! I'M WINNING!" His lover yelled as she was in front of him. "Not for long~" Kuroo stated as his focused was on the screen. As time passes and the gap widens, Kuroo turned to his plan B. He then looked at his Oxytocin and kissed her out of nowhere. The girl immediately responded to the kiss and stopped pressing the buttons. Soon enough, Kuroo passed the girl with ease and won. His lover looked at him with a betrayed look and then scowled. "You cheat!" Hse said as she pointed a finger to him.

"C'mon my Oxytocin~ I didn't cheat in Mario carts!" Kuroo declared as he gazed at his lover. "Didn't cheat?!? Didn't cheat?!? YOU KISSED ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GAME!" She yelled as she hit his shoulders gently. "And? We didn't lay any ground rules so what's the point?" Kuroo then stated. The girl huffed and played the controller down. "Should we start studying?" She asked as she picked up a book. The book was a chemistry book taht wasn't even for their curriculum. It was just an extra book to fulfill Kuroo's love for chemistry. She placed it down and picked up her book instead. "We still have a bit of time," Kuroo started as he patted on his bed. He then stood up and gazed at the book she took. And English book to be exact, he took the book and placed it down. "Let's cuddle for a while," He added as he pulled you to his bed and cuddled you.

"And I wonder if your team mates know how much of a cuddle monster you are?" She said as she chuckled. Kuroo placed his arms around her body and nuzzled his head on her hair. "Yes, of course. I won't shut up about you," he added as he pulled you closer. "So are we studying or not?" She then said as she kissed his cheek.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Thanks for complying with my request! I hope it wasn't much of a bother. 👉👈

I had fun writing this! I hope you enjoy this one~