#this got a lot longer than i meant to LOL

[mayapapaya33]

Well at least you're disagreeing with what I DID say and not what I DIDN'T say! That's fine then, I much prefer that. Yeah, sure, agree to disagree that's fine.

As for the misogyny bit you're going for... um no. It's a bit ungenerous that you defaulted to that interpretation but ok. No, like Yeza, I am supportive of Veth's career as a strong independent adventurer lol. In your mind is there no happy medium between what happened in canon and what you just proposed? Her cowering in a basement in Felderwin forever? Do you REALLY think that's what I meant? Yeza loves her enough to not live in Felderwin in the latter part of the campaign, do you really think he wouldn't leave Felderwin for her if she had somehow managed to explain the situation to him earlier, or if finding a way to get a new body took longer than it did in canon? What if they never found an answer? What if she was stuck in the body of a goblin forever? Would she have been justified in never telling her family and never seeing them again?

Goblins are not reviled everywhere in the world, there are places they could live together in peace. And let's be real, how old is Luc anyway? Who knows? Certainly not Veth! Does he remember the terror of the goblin camp properly in his teeny tiny toddler brain? Even if he does remember, Goblins are a race of people not actually creatures so they should probably confront that at some point so that he isn't scared and prejudiced against an entire race for the rest of his life due to childhood trauma. Idk just putting that out there.

For instance, in this alternate universe where finding a spell for a new body took longer, maybe they could have set up a home base somewhere less anti-goblin for Yeza and Luc to live, much like the set up in Nicodranas during the latter half of C2 with Veth popping in and out visiting them between adventures. My point about finding a new body taking longer is that at a certain point, it does become a conscious choice to stay away from her family on Veth's part. Yes, the goblins are 100% responsible for their initial separation, but at some point, it is Veth's choice that keeps them apart. So how long does it take for it to stop being an acceptable decision? 1 year, 5 years? 10 years?

The Mighty Nein could hold off the entire city of Felderwin if they tried to start shit with Veth, so eventually it's not about her bodily safety anymore. It's about her fear of rejection. (I'm fairly certain Caleb could take the whole town by himself with a well-placed AOE lmfao). And I know they are allergic to it, but subtlety is also an option. Seriously, what if they never found an answer to get her a new body? Would she have never seen her family again? Sometimes there is no answer to life's gross unfairness, and you just have to bear terrible things and live your life anyway. That's my point. I'm thrilled for Veth that she got her wizard treatment plan and has a new body. That's fantastic! I'm saying sometimes life doesn't work out like that, and how long is it ok for her, or Anyone, Male, Female, Non-Binary, what-fucking-ever, to stay away from their family and not reconnect with them?

I hold everyone to the same standards of parenting I'm holding Veth to btw. Shitty double standards are shitty. I think Veth tries hard and does her best. But sometimes your best isn't good enough. To be blunt, she's an alcoholic who can't remember how old her kid is. Yes, the meta reason for that is because Sam Riegel can't resist making a joke and child ages are hard and he didn't think about it before the show. But Yeza knows how old Luc is and Veth doesn't. She straight up said she was drunk for most of his childhood. (1:04:26) The Mighty Nein Reunion: Echos of the Solstice.

Now, this is NOT to shame people for having a substance abuse issue, it's a serious problem and people deserve compassion and help. But it's still a serious issue that causes a lot of problems for the people around them. Again, in the entire context of the show, the scenes themselves are all very funny, but the in-universe facts of the matter are actually quite sad. Think about it, she was drunk for MOST of his childhood. Think about the implications of that.

To take the spotlight off of Veth for a moment, let's speak of probably my favorite mom in critical role, Marion. Perhaps this will clarify my stance on things, and maybe you'll still disagree, but that's ok. I love her dearly and she is a wonderful person. She is kind and caring and she love's Jester with all of her heart, but she is also not the best at parenting on the planet. She did the best she could, but her agoraphobia caused her to unintentionally neglect Jester. It's not her fault that she's mentally ill, but it was her responsibility to take care of Jester, and in that respect she failed. Life is hard and no one is perfect. Sometimes that's just the way it is. But child neglect is still child neglect, even when it's unintentional and you have good reasons. Now, I happen to like Marion as a person more than I like Veth, but I'm holding her to the same standards. Are you taking care of your kid, yes or no?

You said that Veth is indulgent because she feels guilty, yes that is 100% what it is. Which is totally understandable but doesn't exactly lead to the best parenting decisions or the best partnering decisions either. Honestly poor Yeza got volunteered into owning a dog and having their kid do combat training without even a private conversation, you'd think that would warrant a discussion between them. (I'd be annoyed if a male character unilaterally decided something like that without consulting a female character, why not extend the same consideration to Yeza?)

Here's an example, Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43): She unloads the crossbow of arrows, puts the "safety" on (lol) and stresses the importance of a balanced education, so that's great! Well done parenting right there! But she does immediately follow it up by getting the crossbow back from Luc by trading him a Grappling Hook for it lmfao. Not super safe for a 5ish year old to be playing with, those things are sharp! If she gave him extra candy or toys that would be one thing, even the dog is pretty forgivable and within acceptable levels of spontaneous indulgence given everything they've been through. I feel like THIS level of indulgence crosses some pretty firm parenting lines of Hey, maybe don't hand a 5ish year old something they could accidentally kill/maim themselves with! Maybe that's just me though?

Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43) but she trades him a grappling hook at (1:48:23) hahaha.

If you watch all those family scenes again, try your hardest to ignore how funny everyone is being, which is a difficult task I'll grant you, and actually look at what is factually happening with the characters, and you'll see what I'm talking about. Or maybe you won't, like I said, it's fine to have different interpretations of things. I'm not saying she's a bad person, I'm saying she's a complicated person and she's not super great at parenting, but she does try.

Or here's a big example, how about that time Luc straight up died because Veth and Jester couldn't shut the fuck up for 10 minutes to let Caleb cast the dome to make their families safer in a completely unknown location while they were on the run from a terrifying evil wizard? You'd think responsible parenting (or responsible daughtering, looking at you Jester, your mom is right there!) would prioritize the safety of the child, rather than wandering around chatting about future plans for a detective agency in a potentially dangerous situation.

Veth IS a rogue, they could have snuck around the whole time, but they were having fun and got careless, and the cost was steep. She lucked out big time that Caduceus is THE Cleric of all time and saved a spell slot. (The blame is shared 50/50 with Jester on this one, it's just a vibrant example of the shit I'm talking about. She's reckless, makes bad decisions, and endangers people accidentally).

Again, the meta reason for this is because Sam and Laura can't stop cracking jokes, and THEY were having fun, and weren't paying attention to the volume of the conversation because the CR cast forget to do that all the time anyway. Too bad for Veth and Jester that it reflects INCREDIBLY badly on their characters this particular time. And Veth has a history of carelessness so you can't even say it's out of character, or just a one-off incident. Considering she accidentally killed both Caduceus and herself by being careless, it's a fairly consistent character flaw at this point.

(At least she pays child support though lol you are correct. Where's Relvin's child support Liliana?! Granted the child support payments from nowhere did freak Yeza out a bit so they might also double as accidental psychological warfare, but oh well, she DID try, I give her all the credit for that!)

As for the "hag thing" it's not about "thought crimes" or whatever, it's about her having the support system around her to have the strength necessary TO resist stuff like that and like Halas, etc. It's like how without the Mighty Nein Caleb would almost certainly have ended up back in Trent's web as a Volstrucker (Liam and Matt said it themselves, and that was Matt's plan if Caleb left the group) or Fjord would have ended up releasing Uk'otoa (Uk'otoa). Thinking about doing a thing, and doing the thing are not the same. I merely acknowledge the potential inside her for doing the things, and I think it's more than "just a thought" or a "moment of weakness." In the right circumstances, I think she'd do it. But she has support and love and hope and a wizard treatment plan, so she won't.

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[wish-i-were-heather]

the inheritance games characters as things my friends and i have said to each other over text

ive posted these before but it was before my blog got deleted and also as shatter me characters, but honestly this is kinda more fun and fits my current hyperfixation so yippee i guess

pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

[shoulderholsterfreak]

So, I keep seeing people expressing how disappointed they are that Filoni is "going with legends!Thrawn," but to me this sentiment makes it clear that they've probably never read past the original three books, or even the Thrawn Trilogy itself.

Let me explain.

The Thrawn Trilogy is only three novels. There was also the duology (Visions of the Future and Specter of the Past); the stand-alone novels Survivor's Quest, Outbound Flight, and Choices of One; the short stories Crisis of Faith, Side Trip, and Command Decision; and a few other non-Zahn novels and a couple video games wherein Thrawn is present if not in a starring role.

In all Zahn publications after the Thrawn Trilogy, we see a character that, aside from the random political/social debuff introduced in 2017, has a personality and morality system that is nearly identical to the one in canon.

It's in legends where you get Thrawn saying "we do not make war on civilians" and "as civilized beings, it is our duty to minimize suffering" (from the short story Crisis of Faith which takes place weeks before Thrawn began his campaign against the New Republic, so any excuse of "oh he got worse as Palpatine's influence deepened" doesn't really hold water).

And just look at the Empire of the Hand. If you want to know what kind of man Thrawn is, look at the organization he himself founded. To summarize, this is what an alien refugee taken in by the Hand had to say about it:

“The Empire that Senior Captain Thrawn is carving into the evil that pervades our worlds is not the Empire you chose to leave. His is an Empire of justice and dignity for all beings. His Empire is one we gladly serve. One we are willing to die for.”

Basically think the group of aliens and Chiss brought together at the end of Lesser Evil, add Imperials, and multiply it by 1,000.

This was in legends. That’s the vision legends!Thrawn had for a more ideal society. Rebels!Thrawn isn’t even true to what was available to Filoni prior to the canon books’ publications.

Now we can argue if Thrawn was as morally bad in the Thrawn Trilogy as he was in Rebels or not (I say short answer: T3!Thrawn’s greatest sin—for which he was killed—was apathy toward suffering in favor of results, Rebels!Thrawn simply enjoys hurting people because he’s a Bad Guy), but even if they DID hold the same fundamental values, they don’t have the same personality. Thrawn in the 90’s trilogy was expressive, he was having fun, he smiled and shrugged and fiddled with things and pet his ysalamiri. He was sassy and sarcastic and dry-humored and irritable. He was charismatic and, dare I say sometimes relatable. Sure he wasn’t a good person but that’s not the issue here. Thrawn had life to him in the Thrawn Trilogy.

In contrast, Thrawn in Rebel’s personality could be summarized as “creepy evil smart guy who likes art.” He’s really nothing more special than every Saturday mastermind cartoon villain out there. He’s bland and dry and lifeless and he’s scary not because of his intellect or his willpower or ability to read people but because he’s tall and skinny and lurks in the shadows and he’s got cheesy pipe organ theme music.

TL;DR: (as something a friend of mine mentioned) Filoni’s the kind of guy who goes with the very first idea that pops into his head. He goes with his first impression and runs with it. He’s not basing this guy on legends!Thrawn—he’s basing the entirety of it on the very first paragraph of the very first book the character shows up in.

[rulesforthedance]

Dear four people who followed me after reblogging that Sondheim post, you are going to be very disappointed by my usual blogging habits

[quin-ns]

Always Forever (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 8.2K

Summary: coriolanus finally lets himself acknowledge that he can’t stand to see you with anyone but him

Tags: (18+), cw: dubcon, cw: noncon, pseudo!incest (not related, reader raised with the snows), dark!coriolanus, pre-mentor era, jealousy/obsession/possessiveness, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, fear of getting caught, lots of drama for my lovely readers

A/N: second coryo fic and it’s somehow longer than the last one lol. only one part. pls read the tags and proceed with caution 🫶

Misc masterlist + main masterlist

“Look at you, you look so pretty!” Tigris beamed, adjusting the straps of your dress. “Doesn’t she, Coryo?”

In his peripheral, Coriolanus could see his cousin had turned to look at him expectantly, but his eyes were already on you. They always had been, and always would be.

“Yes, she does,” he replied without thought.

You faced him with a smile, and Coriolanus couldn’t help the pride that swarmed him just looking at you.

It was because of him that you were in his life, and until the day he died Coriolanus knew it would remain the best decision he ever made.

As children during the war, when he and Tigris would scavenge the streets, Coriolanus stumbled across you. Not much younger than him, huddled behind a pillar, all alone. You had a half a loaf of bread. It wasn’t fresh, but he still didn’t understand where you got it. You tore it in half and shared it with him.

He returned to Tigris with you in tow, his small hand clutching your even smaller one, and his cousin took pity.

She also took the brunt of the consequence for bringing home another mouth to feed, but sacrifices had to be made, didn’t they?

It was worth it. You were worth it to him—to both of them, really.

As you got older, Grandma’am eventually took a liking to you, although Coriolanus wondered if it was because she could see how much he cared for you.

It didn’t matter. Not really. You were part of the family now, even if you did not share the Snow name.

“Thank you, Tigris,” you said sweetly, pulling the older girl into a hug.

It was a big day for both you and Coriolanus. The academy was hosting an event for students to mingle with administration and alumni of the university.

Coriolanus had put on his best outfit—he already knew it was the same one he was going to wear when the Plinth Prize winner was announced in only a few weeks. He was sure it was going to be him.

Tigris had fashioned your dress by hand. Coriolanus was past questioning how she paid for her fine fabrics, but he had an inclination it was the same way they could suddenly afford food some days.

The long dress reminded Coriolanus of freshly fallen snow, the white holding a sense of purity and wealth that his family once had. It had a sense of elegance that you only furthered with donning it, but it lacked an extravagance that would force you to stand out.

It was perfect.

You parted from Tigris to approach Coriolanus. You had a light smile on your face as your hands ran down his black vest, adjusting it.

“We almost match,” you commented, referring to the white shirt beneath said vest. ���If only I had something black.”

“Well, I’d let you borrow this, but then we’d be in the same position, only switched,” he teased lightly, drawing a small chuckle from you.

Coriolanus liked when you looked up at him, same as he liked hearing your laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll survive without.” Your hands fell to your sides. “Besides, it definitely looks more handsome on you.”

Hearing those words from you meant more than you’d ever know, and more than he’d let himself acknowledge.

You were so good to him, he couldn’t imagine spending the evening with anyone else.

When he walked into the ballroom of the academy with you on his arm, Coriolanus got a rush of power. Especially when heads turned. Looking at him, looking at you, just looking.

He wondered what the minds behind all those gazing eyes were thinking.

He hoped it was a balanced amount of envy and respect.

“We should find Sejanus, let him know we’re here,” you said, not thinking much of the sentence as you looked around the room, taking in the people and the decor.

Coriolanus thought everything of it, a sourness settling over him. Sejanus was his friend, but Coriolanus wished they hadn’t gotten as close as they did. It was because of his friendship with Sejanus that you met him, and began to develop… feelings for him.

God, Coriolanus hated to even think about it.

When you told him you had begun dating Sejanus, Coriolanus nearly had a heart attack. Then he felt violent. Not towards you. Never towards you.

It wasn’t just because he felt protective of you, or because Sejanus was district, or because Coriolanus knew you were far, far too good for his friend… it was everything. All of that and everything in between.

Before you could find him, Sejanus found you.

He was in a fine black suit, finer than anything Coriolanus owned, and a bright smile appeared on his face at the sight of you.

That was one thing they still had in common. Reverence for you.

“Had to come find my girl before everyone thinks she ditched me,” Sejanus joked, pulling a laugh from you. “Where have you guys been?”

“Making sure we look our best,” you replied, shooting Coriolanus a wink.

If Sejanus wasn’t reaching for you, Coriolanus might’ve smiled.

“Well, you did a wonderful job.”

Coriolanus let you slip away from his side, reluctantly giving you away to Sejanus.

The unfortunate thing was Sejanus was truly a decent person. Not perfect, but decent. Better than most, even if he was beneath you all. You cared nothing for status, and seemed to really like him. He treated you right from what Coriolanus had seen, making disapproval not exactly warranted.

Although, Coriolanus was always going to be incredibly protective of you. He doubted there was a world where he would be pleased with any relationship you found. Your interest in other people was becoming tiresome, truthfully. Did you really even need friends? Or lovers? You had Coriolanus, and he was sure that was enough.

His jaw clenched when you pressed a light kiss to Sejanus’s cheek. It would be much simpler if he was a terrible person. Coriolanus would have an excuse outside of his own selfishness to separate you—which he did not have now.

“Can I ask for this dance?” Sejanus wondered, shooting you a smile. At least he had the awareness to still look anxious.

But you… you grinned. You were too good.

“Well you just asked, so I guess you can,” you started sarcastically, but let him off the hook quickly. “And of course I’ll say yes.”

Sejanus looked relieved, taking your hand in his. You turned to look at Coriolanus, a small bit of guilt in your expression. You clearly hadn’t been planning on leaving his side so soon. You masked it with the same teasing tone you’d used before.

“I won’t be long, don’t get too bored without me, Coryo.”

Coriolanus only smiled for your sake. It fell the moment Senjanus led you away to a small group of other students dancing together.

From the sidelines, Coriolanus watched as Sejanus led you in a slow dance. He tried to avoid his eyes landing on his friend. He didn’t want to view the two of you in the same light as the other couples embracing one another.

Coriolanus tried to remember the first moment he realized how beautiful you were. It was so long ago, it wasn’t something he was even aware he thought so often.

The sun rose in the morning, roses had thorns, and you were beautiful.

It was simple as that.

After a dance and a half, Coriolanus couldn’t take it anymore.

His feet carried him to the dance floor, mind absent as he tried to justify his jealousy as protectiveness. Yes, that’s all he was. Protective. Like an older brother… like what he was supposed to be. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted to be.

You and Sejanus were swaying and talking, but as he snuck up on the two of you, Coriolanus couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter.

You turned your head to look at him, smiling in surprise at his presence.

“Coryo!”

“Can I cut in?” Coriolanus requested. His hand itched to rest on your shoulder, but he withheld. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and he briefly wondered if Sejanus sensed that or not.

“All yours,” Sejanus agreed, spinning you by the hand. You turned in a circle, then a half, facing Coriolanus. “I’m going to go find my father, he’s here tonight,” he informed.

“I’ll come find the two of you in a few minutes,” you told Sejanus, who nodded then headed off. Before he did, he looked to Coriolanus and said, “Take good care of her.”

“I always do,” Coriolanus responded easily, because it was the truth. He didn’t need Sejanus telling him that. He’d been there for you long before either of you even knew his friend existed. He looked down to you, taking your hand in his while the other fell to your waist. You looked amused. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yes, Coryo,” you replied with a smile. “Better than anyone.”

The slow waltz felt so natural, your movements in tune with his without thought. You two were always like that, always in sync.

“What were you and Sejanus talking about?” Coriolanus wondered, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Nothing important,” you dismissed with a shrug. “Sweet nothings.”

Coriolanus didn’t miss the shy smile appearing on your face. He couldn’t control the frown trying to take over his.

A more thoughtful look crossed your face, your smile faltering.

“Are you happy for me, Coryo?”

Coriolanus blinked.

“I… want to be,” he confessed, eyes scanning your face. It was the truth for the most part. He did want you to be happy, just not with Sejanus.

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. Coriolanus wished he could open your head and investigate every corner of your brain. He wanted to know every thought you had.

“Sejanus is your friend, I would’ve thought…” you swallowed and looked away. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it?” Coriolanus pressed, tilting his head, trying to make you meet his gaze.

When you did, he saw the disappointment in your eyes.

You stepped back from him, parting completely.

“I need to find Sejanus. I’ll put in a good word for you about the Plinth Prize with his father.”

Then, you departed, not leaving room for Coriolanus to argue for you to stay.

He would’ve, and you knew that.

The moment you disappeared from his view, Coriolanus went looking. You had moved quickly. He found you across the room, sitting down at a table with Sejanus and Mr. Plinth.

He didn’t approach, he couldn’t make himself look bad in front of Mr. Plinth.

So he watched you talk, and drink, and laugh, and drink some more…

“I can’t believe she’s doing this,” Arachne whispered, suddenly appearing at his side. Coriolanus looked down at her. She was clearly talking about you. He could see the way she flicked her heavily decorated eyes in your direction. “Associating with him was one thing, but… well”—Arachne let out a vicious laugh—“do you think their children will call her “Ma” too?”

Coriolanus felt ill at the thought. Leave it to Arachne to provoke him, to conjure up nightmares he hadn’t even thought of yet himself.

“She’ll come to her senses,” Coriolanus muttered, gritting his teeth.

Arachne rolled her eyes. “Let’s hope so,” she mused, continuing on her way, blood red dress dragging behind her with each step.

Coriolanus looked back to you. He was overwhelmed with nausea as Sejanus grabbed your hand atop the table. Damn Arachne for placing that thought in his head.

He watched as you lifted another glass to your lips, smiling along as Sejanus talked to his father. What was that, your third? Sejanus had yet to say anything to you. He was fine with allowing you to get intoxicated?

Drinking alcohol wasn’t exactly a crime, but Sejanus didn’t know you well enough to know you were inexperienced. The last thing Coriolanus wanted was you making a fool of yourself.

Darker thoughts crept in. Maybe Sejanus was allowing you to inebriate yourself on purpose. The thought of him climbing on top to you made Coriolanus’s blood boil. His fingers twitched to form a fist, and his jaw clenched even tighter.

In that moment, Coriolanus decided he wouldn’t let Arachne’s mockery come true.

He had to help you. You needed his protection, even when you didn’t know it. You needed him. You always would. Coriolanus could remind you, then perhaps you'd see you didn’t even need Sejanus at all.

When you left the table—Coriolanus wasn’t sure why—he saw his opportunity. He approached you quickly, finding no problem in catching your arm and leading you away from the party. Away from all the people, where it could just be the two of you.

Out a door, down a long, empty corridor until the two of you ended up outside in the school’s garden. It was isolated from the party, you’d be safer here.

“Coryo? What—“

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus asked, cutting you off. He released you to stand across from you, leaving you to lean back against the stone wall behind you. “I saw how much you were drinking.”

You looked up at him, confused, but not frightened. If anyone else had handled you the way he did, you surely would’ve been. But you trusted him. You always had.

“Did I drink a lot?” you asked, a slight pout on your lips. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh.” So, you were okay. That was good, wasn’t it? “I thought maybe you needed rescuing,” he admitted, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or not.

You chuckled a little and the sound washed over Coriolanus, bringing him a sense of relief from all his previous tension.

“My hero,” you said lightly, smiling up at him. You were always smiling at him, but Coriolanus no longer wondered if he was worthy of it all. “You’re always there for me, aren’t you?”

Coriolanus stepped closer. His hand rose, his fingertips trailing the outline of your face. Someone so pretty, so sweet, had to be careful in a cruel world like this.

“What would you do without me?” he proposed, not expecting an answer.

You didn’t need one, because you never would have to find out.

He’d follow you to the end of the Earth, just as he knew you’d follow him. You needed each other. You didn’t need Tigris or Grandma’am and especially not Sejanus, but without Coriolanus, who would you even be? Coriolanus couldn’t imagine his world without you in it. Not even if he tried.

Staring at you now, Coriolanus heard the voice in the back of his mind begin to whisper. The one that urged his protectiveness, knowing it was fueled by possession. The one he would use all his power to silence.

Something new had overcome him, watching you galavant around with Sejanus. Well, not new, but clear. Coriolanus finally had clarity. That’s what it was. That was how he finally acknowledged what had so long been lingering in his peripheral, just on the edge of his mind, waiting for the right moment.

Was this the right moment?

He made no effort to banish his most repressed thoughts. For once, he let them win.

Coriolanus leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. Gentle, testing the waters. You did not react right away. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily a good sign, but that didn’t stop him from using it as an excuse to deepen the kiss.

His other hand found your face, holding you against him as he nipped at your lip, begging you to invite him in.

Your reaction was delayed, and Coriolanus thought maybe, just maybe, you had been thinking the same thing he had all along. That the faint taste of alcohol on your lips meant you were feeling more open to exploring this with him, and that all you needed was a nudge in the right direction.

But no, you were turning your head, making his lips part from yours.

Coriolanus faltered, but you still did not speak. Your breaths were clipped—flustered and confused. He could understand that. His own heart was racing, although adrenaline and need were to blame for that.

“Coryo…” you whispered so softly he nearly didn’t hear it. “What are you doing?”

Leave it to you to not get angry with him. Or even upset. At this point he questioned if you were even capable of feeling anger at him.

Coriolanus stepped closer, making you have to tilt your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think I can share you,” he confessed under his breath, but with conviction. “I know I can’t and you… you don’t need anyone else. You have me.”

You swallowed, eyes looking down. “Sejanus—“

“Doesn’t know you like I do,” Coriolanus finished, one hand still holding your cheek, tilting your head, making you meet his eye again. “Seeing you with him… he’s not good enough for you.”

“I thought you were above judging him for being district.” You sounded so disappointed in him.

“I don’t care that he’s district, he’s not good enough because no one will ever be,” Coriolanus corrected, imploring you to understand.

With a light sigh, his eyes fell shut. Gently, he leaned to press his forehead to yours. He blindly reached for your hands, and found them in each of his with no problem.

“I would not be happy seeing you with anyone else,” Coriolanus confessed, voice low. “Not anyone but me.”

You inhaled slightly. Was it that big of a shock?

He gave you no chance to voice it because Coriolanus was capturing your lips again, passion erupting in his veins.

His mind was clouded with thoughts that fought for center attention, his built up desires controlling him as his hands and lips cascaded down your body. Your neck, your chest, your stomach—

“Coryo, what are you doing?” you questioned when he began to move lower.

“Shh, don’t worry,” he cooed, dismissing your concern.

Coriolanus finally fell to his knees in front of you. He’d never take such a humiliating position for anyone else. But with you, it didn’t feel humiliating. It was exhilarating, knowing he was on his knees worshiping you, but he still held all the power. It was nearly perfect.

You gasped a little when he gripped your right leg and maneuvered it over his shoulder. More of your weight rested back against the wall, unable to stand straight on just one leg.

He looked upward, watching your face the entire time as he pushed your dress up around your hips, revealing your underwear to him.

Coriolanus was so close and you had yet to move.

Words couldn’t find their way to his lips. It was all too overwhelming in the best way. His heart slamming against his rib cage was a welcome feeling, and so was the pressure on his knees.

You bucked away before his mouth could reach your core. Coriolanus didn’t think much of it. He had a lot of other images rushing through his brain. Ones he wanted to become reality.

He scooted forward and tried again, this time making contact with the layer of fabric separating him from your most intimate spot.

Coriolanus heard a choked noise from you as he ran his tongue across the front of your underwear.

Right away, he wanted more.

His hands found the material acting as a barrier and he gripped it then pulled, tearing it from you one leg at a time, exposing you to him.

Before it could fall to the ground, he caught the shredded material and stuffed it into his pocket.

He felt a bit guilty, knowing how little you all had when it came to clothing, but he wanted to do this the right way. Coriolanus wanted nothing blocking him from showing you how good he could make you feel.

As much as his eyes were tempted to linger, impatience got the best of him.

He made contact again, licking a stripe across your bare cunt. Once he got a taste, Coriolanus couldn’t hold back.

His mouth latched onto you, tongue sliding between your folds, drawing a stifled moan from you. You reached for his head, trying to knock him away, but Coriolanus persisted. His will easily overtook yours. You weren’t going to take this away from him, not when he could make you want it just as bad.

He held onto the leg over his shoulder, gripping your flesh, surely leaving bruises in his wake. He held the skirt of your dress up with the other hand. With his mouth, he devoured you. Lapping at your core like a man starved, even more so when wetness began to form.

This wasn’t something Coriolanus had done, but he knew you better than anyone. He was sure he could figure out your body. He’d dreamt about it long enough, making you fall apart for him in such an intimate way.

He soon found that to be the truth when in only a matter of minutes your body was tensing. He continued to drag his tongue across you, giving every bit of you his full attention. He liked the way your thighs quivered when his tongue brushed your clit, it gave him an excuse to hold you tighter.

Your whole body flinched suddenly, but he shoved your hips back, pinning you to the wall as he brought you to the edge

His own pants felt constricted as his senses were overwhelmed by you. Your taste, your scent, the sound of your choked down moans, your hands smacking the wall (unsure what else to do), the feel of you against his tongue and how your leg strained over his shoulder, and the sight of you when he looked up through his lashes… god, you were magnificent.

You whimpered from above, teeth digging into your bottom lip, as he finally made you come undone.

Coriolanus held you still, relishing in the way you finally jolted into his touch instead of away.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were the stuff of dreams in the most literal sense.

Your head tilted back against the wall, your ragged breaths causing your chest to rise and fall in an unsteady pattern. Your leg, still draped over his shoulder, was tense, even as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

A wide grin spread across Coriolanus’s face when you shivered. He couldn’t help himself. He nearly chuckled at your state, but then your hand moved to rake through his wavy locks. The sound caught in his throat as you tugged him away, finally looking down at him. The all consuming pleasure had faded into something more composed.

Coriolanus could tell how much of an effort you were making, and as your eyes struggled to focus, he briefly wondered how strong your drinks were.

“I’d like to go home now,” you said slowly, conscious not to let your voice falter.

You allowed him to help get both to your feet on the ground, but you did not touch him for the rest of the night, even when he tried to reach for you.

He was still hard behind the confines of his pants, imagining the slickness between your thighs that was the result of his actions. As you walked back through the ballroom, it took everything he had to not push you back against a nearby wall. People be damned, he wanted you more than anything.

He would press his chest to your back—no, he’d make you face him. Coriolanus wanted access to your lips so he could kiss you as much as he liked, even swallow down your moans when he lifted your dress around your stomach and—

A shiver of excitement coursed through Coriolanus’s body. What would your darling Sejanus think if he knew what just transpired? If he knew it was only for your dignity that Coriolanus wasn’t fucking you against the wall hard enough that you forgot where you even were?

You silently bid the party a farewell, forgetting to say goodbye to Sejanus (Coriolanus made no attempts to remind you). You continued to ignore him, hardly speaking and not even looking his way. Not as you walked from the school to the apartment. Stumbling up the stairs, you only spoke to claim you were fine as you gripped the handrail for dear life. Then you went back to silence as you traveled from the front door to your bedroom and locked the door.

Coriolanus only found out about the door because he’d tried to follow you in, but the door knob did not budge. You never used your lock.

Even if you weren’t ready to finish what had been started, it was still incredibly cold. Were you really upset enough to deprive him of your presence until the morning?

“What’s going on with you?” Coriolanus asked through the layer of wood. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue as it traced his bottom lip, waiting for your response. “Can we talk? Can you open the door?”

He gripped the knob tighter and tried again. It wasn’t going to suddenly unlock, but something urged him to prove it.

There was a faint thud as his forehead fell to the door, much as it had to yours not too long ago.

“Can I at least say goodnight to you?”

Again, no response.

He swallowed. Cleared his throat.

Again.

“Please?”

If they could afford to fix it, Coriolanus would break the door down.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood outside your door before begrudgingly going to his own room.

He laid in his bed and fished the underwear from his pocket. Your scent still lingered on them, and it was enough to fuel his imagination as he unbuttoned his pants and pretended his own hand on his cock was yours.

Even after finishing, Coriolanus had a nearly sleepless night. His mind was plagued with memories of his lips on yours, your dress bunched around your hips, him on his knees with his mouth on your cunt. He’d never forget the sounds you made.

When the sun rose, he returned to your door, only to find it still locked. He didn’t even knock, just simply grabbed the door knob and twisted.

You always woke up early for school, putting yourself together in a way that could reflect wealth that you did not truly have. Coriolanus was sure you did it for his sake, knowing how much appearances mattered to him.

You were good to him like that.

If only you’d let him in now.

The laugh that escaped him lacked humor. It was a bitter, frustrated sound.

His hands rested on his hips, his own fingertips pressing in. It was that or gripping the door knob and if he touched that thing again and found it locked…

“This isn’t funny anymore, Y/N,” Coriolanus called through the door. “If there’s a problem we can talk about it. Just stop acting like a child.”

“What, did she steal your blazer again?” Tigris wondered, appearing out of nowhere. Despite her voice being soft with sleep, Coriolanus was still startled.

“No, just a minor disagreement,” Coriolanus replied, quick on his feet as always. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure we’ll talk it out.”

He emphasized the word ‘talk’, hoping you’d hear him through the door. If you did, he wouldn’t know. Tigris, on the other hand, just nodded and headed for the kitchen.

The smile he gave his cousin on her way was forced. She couldn’t tell that his teeth were clenched together, which was for the best.

A thought dawned on him. You could just be testing him.

Coriolanus knocked on the door and waited, like he’d just solved your puzzle.

What was that thing about insanity—trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

“You’re going to have to come out of your room at some point,” he reminded, trying his best to make it not sound like a warning.

Coriolanus wasn’t used to being frustrated with you. You were usually his relief from people who made him feel this way. He didn’t understand why everything changed all of the sudden.

You’d enjoyed yourself while he got what he wanted. Why was that so bad?

You had always been an enigma, but Coriolanus felt as if he’d come to understand you—that he was the only one who did or would.

Sejanus would never know you the way he did, that was for certain.

From in your room, Coriolanus heard movement. Your dresser opening, maybe. It didn’t matter. You were awake. And ignoring him.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake.” The neediness in his voice was embarrassing. No one else could make him resort to this. “I can hear you. Are you coming out?”

“What is going on?” Grandma’am questioned, standing at the end of the hall. “You aren’t dressed for school. We can’t have you being late.”

Coriolanus looked down at himself. He’d gone to sleep in the outfit he’d worn the night before, and still wore it now.

Arguments died in his throat. You and Coriolanus walked to the academy together. You’d have to come out and talk to him. Grandma’am would drive you crazy if you missed a day of classes.

In record time, Coriolanus was in his uniform.

He might’ve been quick, but apparently you were quicker. As he opened the door to his room, he heard the front door shut.

“Whatever you did, Coryo, apologize,” Tigris advised when he chased the sound of your exit.

Coriolanus just looked at her. Why on Earth would he do that? He’d done nothing wrong.

Down the stairs and out of the building, Coriolanus finally—finally—got a glimpse of you. A flash of red as you turned the corner, setting off down the sidewalk.

It took nothing for him to catch up to you.

“How are you feeling?” he wondered first, recalling your drunken state. “I was worried about you.”

“Were you?” you challenged, eyes forward.

It was good to hear your voice, but Coriolanus furrowed his brows at your tone. You had no reason to be this rude.

“Of course I was, Y/N. How can you even ask me that?” His hand dropped to your shoulder, only for you to shrug it away. “What is wrong with you?”

You looked at him, finally, but the emotion in your gaze… there was something wrong with it. Something distant, lacking the affection those beautiful eyes of yours usually held for him.

Coriolanus swallowed.

“Are you really going to be like this? Is it because of Sejanus? You don’t have to be with him anymore.”

You turned your head forward.

“Leave me alone, I’d like to walk in silence.”

Since when had you become so spiteful? Coriolanus didn’t like it. It evoked something similar in him. He leaned down, getting near your ear.

“You liked it, I know you did,” he hissed out. Coriolanus hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh, but you were being completely unfair to him right now. “You can’t lie to me.”

Despite the way you shuddered, your jaw remained clenched. You not talking to him was more infuriating than if you had screamed in his face. At least that way he could tell what you were thinking. But no, you wouldn’t allow him to be privy to your inner thoughts, no matter how much effort he put into prying them from you.

It wasn’t a conversation for the public, even Coriolanus knew that, so when you got to the academy a few steps ahead of him, he bit his tongue.

“What did you do to piss off your sister?” Clemensia asked him in a whisper in class. “You’re usually attached at the hip walking in.”

The way she called you his sister felt wrong in a way that it hadn’t before. Even if he never thought it fit when people would say that or assume it, something had shifted.

And was it that obvious? Coriolanus hadn’t even brought it up. He’d simply been a few steps behind you into the classroom. You’d gone to your desk without a word. Was that strange to everyone else too? It was validating, in a way, to know your behavior was, in fact, targeted and odd, but it also made him wonder what the two of you appeared to be from an outside perspective.

“It’s nothing,” Coriolanus lied to her under his breath, keeping his eyes on his paper.

“So you didn’t get into a fight?”

Coriolanus’s brows curved down. He glanced her way.

“A fight?”

“Arachne and Festus saw you pull her away from Sejanus and disappear somewhere last night.”

It was mostly the truth, but she said it so nonchalantly. She couldn’t know what happened after you disappeared. Coriolanus hadn’t seen a single person lay their eyes on either of you in that private moment.

“I get it,” she continued. “I wouldn’t want to be associated with someone from the districts either. She’s not thinking about how she’ll be perceived, or you. Don’t let her drag you down.”

Coriolanus just listened, the night flashing through his mind. No one could’ve known, there was no way.

He quickly corrected the hypocrisy in his own mind. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just private. No one else deserved to see you in that state—no one but him.

“We’re fine,” Coriolanus told her. “And her and Sejanus aren’t together anymore.”

Clemensia smirked to herself. “Good.”

Word spread quickly, and with the way you avoided Sejanus—a byproduct of you avoiding Coriolanus—everyone believed it. The final nail was the way you failed to appear at lunch. It got under Sejanus’s skin, causing him to question the state of your relationship without you to answer any said questions.

Truthfully, Coriolanus hadn’t seen anything as amusing in a long while, but your absence weighed on him, too.

The walk home alone was dreadful without you. Even in the morning when you had ignored him, it was better than you being completely gone.

When he got home, your door was shut. How quickly had you left your classes, how fast had you walked, all to avoid him?

This was growing old very, very quickly.

Grandma’am was on the roof with her roses, and Tigris seemed to be missing from the apartment. It was only because of that that Coriolanus devised a way to get into your room.

Why he didn’t think of picking the lock before, Coriolanus supposed it was because he thought you’d give in quicker and let him get the better of you. You were usually weak to him, allowing him to get his way without a problem. You had before.

“Last chance,” Coriolanus called through the locked door. He almost thought that would be enough. He wanted you to open it of your own will. “You can’t avoid me forever, just let me in.”

No such luck.

You looked surprised when he forced the door open, as if you really believed he would just take the loss. You were supposed to know him better than that.

You’d been sitting on your bed in pajamas, evidently already done with the day. Your legs were criss-crossed with a textbook in your lap. You looked up at him, a questioning expression taking over your features.

“What are you doing, Coryo?” you asked, voice low, eyes not quite meeting his directly.

“You weren’t opening the door.” Coriolanus squared his shoulders. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You shook your head, something between a sigh and a laugh escaping you in a puff of air. Coriolanus did not like the accusatory undertone.

“Did you think maybe I left it locked on purpose?” Were you mocking him? “That I wasn’t lying this morning and I really don’t want to speak to you?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Coriolanus insisted, closing your door behind him. He moved towards your bed, watching your body language the entire time as he finally sat on the edge beside you. “You thought I would just let you ignore me?”

You swallowed, closing the book in your lap. “I guess not,” you admitted, setting the textbook aside. “I am well aware of your ego.”

A frown crested Coriolanus’s lip. “Is that what this is—you want to hurt me?”

You tilted your head, catching his gaze, much like he’d made you do the night before. It was the first time in nearly a day since you’d looked him dead in the eye.

“What do you want, Coryo?”

“I want you”

“You want me to what? Not be with Sejanus? Is that it? Is that why you did what you did?”

“You say that like it was something awful. I was there too.” Coriolanus felt a familiar heat rush through him at the memory. “I know what I saw.”

“You humiliated me.”

“In front of who? No one saw us.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is? Because you know Sejanus is weak?” Coriolanus searched your eyes and leaned in closer. He was feeling antagonistic. “I mean, how could he touch you, knowing I got there first?”

Coriolanus caught your hand as you raised it, presumably to strike him.

“Is that what we’ve resorted to?”

He squeezed your wrist, enough to cause pain. You winced and tried to move away, but Coriolanus wasn’t going to let you get away.

“I could ask you the same,” you sneered, sounding like an entirely different person.

“What has happened to you?” Coriolanus questioned. He took a breath. “Do you want me to be sorry for what I’ve said? Fine, then, I apologize. But I’m not sorry for what I’ve done. You should not be with him.”

“I’m supposed to believe someone driven by jealousy?” you inquired back, blinking back tears. Why were you being so dramatic? “How can I trust anything you have to say to me now?”

Coriolanus was taken aback by the question. Did you really not trust him anymore? Even with the tight hold on your wrist, he could feel you slipping from his grasp. If you were to leave him, he’d never forgive the universe for its twisted irony. Coriolanus put so much time and care into you because he wanted you. His family didn’t, at least not at first, but even so, you’d have nothing if it wasn’t for him. Is that what you wanted to leave him with now? Nothing? Nothing but the memory of when you were his?

No, that wouldn’t do.

It just wouldn’t.

“You can trust me, I promise,” Coriolanus insisted, pleading, even. “I love you, I always have—you can’t have expected me to sit back and do nothing while you…”

You looked more betrayed, if that was even possible. He was trying to make it better but explaining was only making it worse. Coriolanus had never met a person where the more he talked, the more he tried to persuade them, they believed him less. In that way again you were an anomaly.

If Coriolanus couldn’t tell you, he could show you. He had to make you understand—he could salvage this and get what he wanted in the end. If he was anything, it was persistent. It had worked before, excluding the aftermath.

Coriolanus moved, keeping his hold on your wrist as he shoved you down, pulling himself up and then on top of you in a fluid motion.

You squirmed, questioning, “What are you doing?”

Coriolanus caught your other hand and brought it to join your other wrist he already had a hold of in one hand. He straddled your waist, keeping your body pinned.

“You won’t listen to me,” he pointed out. Something inside him urged him to lean down. “But I can still prove it to you, that it’s me you should be with. No one else.”

Then he crashed his lips onto yours. It was more forceful than it had been the previous night, ensuring you couldn’t turn away again. His tongue was already in your mouth before you thought to turn your head.

It didn’t matter if you didn’t kiss him back, Coriolanus was in bliss. Your lips were soft, molding perfectly to his. You moaned into his mouth, or maybe it was a protest, but it made his body heat up all the same. Coriolanus couldn’t get enough of you. Last night left him wanting more, not less.

More than that, he was determined. When he finally detached his lips from yours, the both of you panting, Coriolanus set forth on a track that wouldn’t allow him to turn around.

Even if he tried to take it back, everything would already be changed.

So he didn’t even bother hesitating. Coriolanus was determined, even, at yanking your clothes from your body.

Your words were jumbled by the time they reached his ears. His own heart racing with excitement drowned out any requests you had for him.

The word “stop” left his vocabulary until you yelled it too loud for his liking.

Your whole body shook when he clapped his hand over your mouth. Your top was completely gone, your chest heaving as you breathed through your nose. While Coriolanus could’ve easily been distracted by your state, he trained his eyes on your wide ones.

The word helpless crossed his mind, and he had to take a moment to control himself.

“Grandma’am is upstairs,” Coriolanus finally warned, voice low. “Don’t disturb her.”

You blinked. Coriolanus was almost surprised by the way you settled down, but it told him you understood the implications of alerting her.

Your position beneath Coriolanus had to be better than starving and cold on the street, didn’t it?

You didn’t have Sejanus anymore. If you thought you did, Coriolanus would make sure to remedy that with his friend before you got to him first.

As Coriolanus lifted his hand from your mouth, he silently implored he was the only one who could save you from being branded a liar.

Just as Coriolanus had always admired, you were a quick learner. As heartbroken as you looked, you didn’t raise your voice again.

“This isn’t how you make me want to be with you,” you pleaded. Coriolanus wasn’t sure whether to laugh or take it as a challenge.

“We’ll see,” he mused in response.

He got you bare, and then himself.

You averted your eyes from his body, which offended him more than he thought it would.

“You can look,” Coriolanus said, voice heavy.

Something about his voice must’ve gotten to you, because your eyes flicked between his legs. You swallowed and looked back away.

A prideful smirk overtook Coriolanus’s face.

He moved then, still keeping hold on your wrists in one hand, dragging them down over your belly, and placed himself between your legs.

With one hand still holding your wrists, Coriolanus shoved his other hand in between your legs, two prodding fingers finding your entrance before making their way in. Eagerness won out over his patience. He could take things slow later.

You tensed around him, fighting the intrusion, but he wasn’t going to let you win. Even if you weren’t squirming against him, you were resistant. Coriolanus slowly worked at breaking your resolve, massaging his fingers inside your walls, thumb on your clit.

He could see shame wash over your features when a wetness began to form, coating his fingers and allowing him to work you open for him.

“See, you can lie to me, but your body can’t,” Coriolanus asserted, voice thick with arousal.

That triggered something in you, and perhaps Coriolanus reacted too harshly.

It felt like it all happened in a flash. One moment you were on your back, beneath him, clenching around his fingers, and the next he had to manhandle you onto your chest and knees to fend off your attack and keep you still. He regained his hold on your hands quickly, pinning them behind your back while you panted from the short lived exertion.

Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips to your ear.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to fight me,” he growled.

Your shoulders shifted as you found further discomfort in your new position, but you didn’t speak. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your voice—just like before.

Coriolanus wanted to watch your face as you submitted to him and his love for you, but if this was the only way he could have you for now, so be it.

He lined himself up with your entrance, enjoying the twitch of your body as he pressed the tip in.

Despite all the effort to get you where you were now, Coriolanus slid his cock into you with ease. Your body welcomed him, even if you didn’t.

He couldn’t help himself, his hips bucked forward, shoving himself into you deep. You whimpered into the pillow and Coriolanus’s mind went blank for a moment, basking in the feel of your warm cunt around him. It was better than he imagined.

His cock twitched inside of you, eager to fill you, but he had to make this last. Just like before, Coriolanus wanted to make you feel good. So good you had no choice but to want him.

Coriolanus drew his hips back after a few moments of just resting inside you. When only the tip remained, he thrust forward. Your body rocked against the mattress.

He did it again, this time slower. Forcing you to feel the drag of his thick cock inside of you. Coriolanus liked the way your body quivered as you succumbed to the pleasure he could give you.

You felt like heaven, all wet and warm and squeezing around him in a way that made him want to never leave you.

To show he trusted you, Coriolanus let your hands go. They immediately fell to grip the pillow beneath your head. You didn’t go to fight him and that counted for something. He had an ulterior motive, though, because now he could hold your hips with both hands.

He leaned down, pressing kisses to your back. He ran his hands along your skin, drinking the entirety of you in as he moved inside of you.

His movements were a bit slow, calculated, making you feel every inch of him stretching you out. Coriolanus imagined you rocking your hips back, your moans filling the room, eager for more. That would have to be saved for another time when you were more willing.

You body tensed and shivered, and Coriolanus knew you were getting close. You still had yet to speak.

It was petty, the sudden sharp thrust of his hips to shove his cock deep and hard into you.

A gasp—he drew a gasp from you.

He allowed his weight to fully fall on top of you, finally. Your skin was so warm on his chest, it was as if your body was trying to burn him off of you. Maybe it was all in his head. But it didn’t really matter. It was far too late for that.

“It’s okay to want it,” Coriolanus muttered into your ear.

He felt your body reacting and you were moments away from what he’d been pushing you towards. His thrusts grew shallow, not letting too much of himself leave you as you finally came undone.

You buried your face into the pillow, muffling your cry as you finally came around his cock. It was then that he got what he wanted, even if it was only brief. Your body spasmed and pushed back, trying to feel every inch of him stretching you out, clenching down to hold him there.

Coriolanus followed you soon after, cock throbbing in your walls, spilling inside of you and painting them white. He held your hips so tight he was sure he’d leave bruises as he held himself still, letting the both of you experience the sensation in full.

After however long—Coriolanus didn’t count the minutes—he withdrew from your body. He was a gentleman, so he helped you to lay down before your body collapsed on its own.

He laid down beside you, pulling your blanket over the top of both of your bodies with the intention to bring you comfort.

You were wordless, rolling onto your side, facing away from him.

Coriolanus turned with you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pulling you back to him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head before resting his lips near your ear.

“Do you really think not talking to me is the best idea?” he whispered, less frustrated than before.

You shook in his arms, but your voice was steady as you asked, “What do you expect me to say to you?”

Coriolanus didn’t have to think all that long.

“That you love me.”

You were silent for a moment, Coriolanus thought he was going to have to repeat himself.

“I did love you,” you uttered, voice threatening to break. “But it wasn’t enough for you.”

Coriolanus could’ve been angry, but he knew he’d win you back. He had all the time in the world, knowing you wouldn’t dare continue your relationship with Sejanus. How could you? You were already spoken for.

You were Coriolanus’s, you always had been. He realized it before you, but he knew you’d come to learn the truth. You’d accept it eventually, and everything would fall into place exactly as he wanted.

[adhd-coyote]

I just. Love Mando’a so fucking much. It’s so great.

They have three different words to describe ways to be stabbed. Bikadinir (to stab with a broad blade; “run through”), chekar (to stab with a small blade, “shiv”), and kalikir (to stab with a narrow blade, “skewer”).

They have one pronoun. Kaysh. That’s it. Buir is just parent, there’s no mom/dad. No son/daughter, just ad, ad’ika, ikaad. Child. Vod can mean sibling, friend, comrade. All at once. Amazing.

They have dozens of ways to insult someone. Di’kut, someone who forgets to put their pants on. Utreekov, emptyhead. Najaat, no honor. Dini, lunatic. Kaysh mirsh solus, “their brain cell is lonely.” Skanah, “much hated person/thing.” Hut’uun, coward. Ge’hut’uun, not even notable enough to be called a coward (how insulting is that?). Demagolka, originating from Demagol, the name of a scientist who was so fucking shitty that his name became the worst insult a Mandalorian could call you. And that insult is child abuser, monster, war criminal, someone with no honor.

And then there’s “shab”, which we don’t have an official definition for, but the fandom collectively agrees it means “fuck.” Because we have shabiir (to screw up), shab’la (screwed up), shab’rudur (to screw with), and shabuir (jerk but much stronger, AKA asshole/motherfucker).

And Mando’ade don’t say “I love you.” They say “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.” I hold you in my heart for eternity. Like. Are you serious. That’s so much better than “I love you.” If someone said that to me I would die on the spot.

Mirshmure’cya means “brain kiss.” Slang for headbutt, which is a thing Mando’ade do a lot, apparently. And it’s a sign of affection, too. They show affection by gently bonking their helmets together. How adorable is that???

Oh, and shereshoy. A lust for life “and much more.” Represented by orange on their armor. “The enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it.” And that “oy” at the end of it, derived from “Oya!”

“Oya”, which can mean so many things. A war cry before a fight or hunt. A celebration. An encouragement. “Let’s hunt!” “Hoorah!” “Cheers!” “That’s the spirit!”

This post got much longer than I meant it to lol. I’ll stop here. But you get the gist. Mando’a is a wonderful language and I am in love with it.

[easy-there-leftovers]

A Question Unasked

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: In which your ambitious, workaholic nature makes Spencer wonder if you've got a crush on Hotch. This slight hitch in his plan causes him to miss a few signs.

[A/N]: Can be seen as a filler from Spencer's perspective of certain scenarios from "Mixed Messages" and a prequel to "As Cool As I Think I Am", but can also just be a standalone

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, allusion to inappropriate workplace dynamics (it's not true, relax lol), slight description of canon-typical violence, mildly inaccurate timeframe | word count: 4k

Spencer looks up from his endless stacks of files on his desk to look at the girl on the other side of his desk. Only a single carpeted walkway really separating them.

He could easily just get up and walk right to her. Ask the burning question that's been on his mind since the Arizona case, but he can't.

Why is that?

He's been your friend for a while, and he's known you for a while longer.

With his eidetic memory, he remembers so clearly when you first started working together. He remembers your starched blazer and pressed blouse, a stark contrast to his swimming-in-sweaters look, and how that alone let anyone know that you were serious about uniform and protocol.

You were, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, and a fresh graduate just like him.

You were smart, beautiful, and started working at the BAU as early as he did.

And because you were new and young, one of the senior agents had been assigned to supervise your progress. So much like how he was mentored by Gideon, you had been mentored by the unit chief himself; Aaron Hotchner.

He'd like to think that he learned a lot from Gideon. He wasn't the type to hold his hand throughout a case, which he is thankful for, but he had been there to encourage him to think more outside the box. To let his mind be more flexible and creative. To see things from every conceivable angle. Leaving no stone unturned.

He supposed you learned a lot from Hotch as well. With your calm exterior, polite demeanor, and calculating mind that occasionally colored your less polite vocabulary-- He didn't know what Aaron must've been like in his junior years, but he supposed that having you as his colleague was essentially the same experience.

What he does know, however, is how close you are to your boss. Or is it your work?

Either way, you being glued to your work almost always meant that you were glued to him by proxy. You two being the first ones in and the last ones out showed that you spent three-percent more of your time with each other than the rest of the team, and two-percent more than with him.

Granted that had changed as of late, but still!

That didn't leave him a lot of time to ask you if---

"Dr. Reid, if you keep staring at me, I don't think you'll be able to finish your action reports on time." You had said without lifting your eyes from your folder.

Having been caught, he cleared his throat with a small 'sorry,' and directed his head back down to his still endless stack of files. The action earning a couple of chuckles from the bullpen where the rest of your colleagues had certainly seen, or at least heard, the exchange.

Not long after however, he saw Hotch from the corner of his eye lean over the railing outside his office. Calling for you both to meet him inside with his usual stern expression.

Spencer noticed how you got up, eyes still zeroed in on one of your files, and continued on your way up and into the unit chief's open door.

A clear sign that you had been invited there often enough that you didn't need to see where you were going.

You expected it.

He sighs and makes his way into the office as well. Dreading what the meeting could even be for, though he's confident he hasn't done anything wrong.

***

"As you might have noticed in our previous cases, I've paired you two to work on the more analytical aspects of it together. With these changes, we've been able to work twice as fast, and we’re thankful for the help."

Whatever Spencer had been expecting, it was not this. His raised eyebrows evidently agreed with him.

It wasn't everyday that Hotch complimented someone like this, much less in the proper environment. And if your respectful posture, but shining eyes in slight pride were anything to go off of, this was something new for you too.

As he was about to voice his thoughts, you had spoken up.

"Sir, Dr. Reid's knowledge in a wide array of subjects has certainly helped with our investigations. Though I'm afraid I haven't done much aside from ensuring it's accuracy and-"

"No! I mean--," He looked to see you already looking at him in slight confusion before continuing.

"She's been a huge help so far and has allowed me to exchange ideas with her to build a more accurate profile. Not to mention that her ability to mediate between departments has been beneficial to gaining access to pertinent information! So I think she's done plenty for the investigations as well." His voice dwindles as he realizes he's rambling on praises and he suddenly feels warm under the scrutiny of both his boss and his colleague.

He just didn't want anyone thinking you weren't doing anything by being humble. Especially since you're both so young.

Thankfully, it's Hotch who speaks up again after a beat.

"So what I'm hearing is that you're both satisfied with this arrangement?"

You both nod carefully and he smiles a small smile at that.

"Then we'll be carrying on with this pairing into the foreseeable future. Should there be any concerns about this arrangement, see to it that it goes through me. We can't afford to lose either of you." He says it with a finality that prompts both Spencer and you to leave with a nod, but the thought is instantly corrected when he speaks again.

"Oh and agent?" He looks only at you, but Spencer looks back as well out of instinct. "A private word, if you please."

Spencer sees you nod without a second thought and he takes it as his cue to hurriedly leave.

***

It hasn't been that long, Spencer argues with himself, since he left the unit chief's office. The blinds aren't drawn, he would know since he'd been looking at them periodically, so he also knows that nothing untoward is happening.

Yet something is bothering him about it.

From his position on his desk, he can see you and Hotch discussing something on his table very seriously, but he also sees how your eyes rarely leave the face of your superior. He can't quite see your expression due to the distance and the light, but he has this sinking feeling that it's a lot like the one from earlier.

He scoffs at the thought. If he wasn't thinking so rationally, he would've thought-

"Does she like Hotch?"

"Who likes Hotch?"

The new voice makes him whip his head back so fast to see Morgan with a confused face. Upon further examination, he sees him holding something that was definitely supposed to be flicked at him if he hadn't been caught so off guard.

He internally debates to voice his opinion, but he does anyway.

"Do you think that she likes Hotch?" He gestures with his eyes to their supervisor's office.

"You're asking me if I think 'little miss perfect' has a crush on a man that's hitched?" Derek echoes back with the use of your nickname. One that he coined as a playful jab at your no-frills behavior.

Spencer cringes when he hears it back though. He didn't ask this to get you in trouble, but it might come across that way now.

"Who has a crush on married man?" Elle joins in, and he only shrinks into his seat more.

"I'm not asking if she has a crush on him! I just want to know if she might like him and--what it is that she likes about him..."

The two exchange looks before looking back at him. Fully knowing that that's not the reason why he's asking, but they humor him anyway.

"Reid, what makes you think she likes him and not literally anyone else?"

"Well. there's her preference for prolonged eye-contact, a common indicator of interest for one. Her being in constant proximity to him, a sign that shows comfort in certain contexts, and then there's the amount of time they spend together."

The last one might be a bit of a reach, considering how you all work in the same area, but at this point he just wanted someone to tell him that he was either absolutely right, or crazy.

"Kid, that's crazy."

Duly noted.

"I'll say.” Elle chuckles out her response. “I haven't thought about it all, but those signs don't really mean anything. It just sounds like she has a habit of looking at whoever's talking to her." She notes, sharing her experience of being on the receiving end of your rather intense gaze.

His other friend adds onto that.

"And the whole closeness thing? You've seen her, she's like a computer with the way she works. She's a workaholic. And Hotch is another. It's just math, Reid."

Spencer furrows his eyes at the man's statement but before he can ask further, he sees you coming out of the office and staring at the small crowd that has now formed at his desk.

"Is something going on here?" You ask with tense brows. Eyes flickering to and fro.

He couldn't really think of something on the spot, but thankfully Derek had one at the ready. "Was just caught trying add my stack on to pretty boy's plate."

He sees you let out a small 'hm,' and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

He sighs in relief as he feels a firm pat on his back from Morgan.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking." He says before leaving to go to his own desk as well.

Spencer doesn't know what good that would do, especially now that he's worried one of his colleagues have caught wind of him liking you, but he at least takes note of it.

--------

He does not, in fact, take note of it until very later.

The team had been called to San Diego to deal with someone they had been calling, "The Tommy Killer." An unsub that had a preference for gluing his victims' eyes open.

As they were reviewing the scene in the jet, they had noticed a few stanzas of a literary work had been left behind at the scene.

"It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A Dialogue Betwixt Death and a Lady." Spencer had mentioned from where he stood.

"A 17th Century ballad?" Morgan had asked him incredulously from his seat, but it’s you who answers.

"One where a woman tries to bribe Death with all that she has in exchange for a little more time to live. Naturally, he doesn't allow it. Claiming that she was undeserving of an exception that even kings were denied of."

Spencer looks up from his own copy to see you still looking at your own from beside Hotch. With your brows furrowing in thought, he almost sees the actual gears in your brain turning.

"So what, are we looking at a literature professor of some kind?" Elle asks which immediately perks him right up.

"Well, actually anyone with access to the internet today. You should see what comes up when you type in the word, "Death" into a search engine." He laughed absentmindedly.

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date."

Morgan's words made him frown, but he brushes it off.

Hotch, as previously discussed, then called on for the both of you to look deeper into the messages. To see if there was anything new that could be inferred.

He nods at him, and looks up. Expecting you to still be looking at Hotch as well.

Instead, your eyes meet his, but you quickly look back onto your file.

Reid thinks it's just a coincidence.

***

"Creepy, huh?" JJ had asked you two as she approached where transcripts of the written messages were tacked onto a board.

Spencer had been focusing so hard that he was caught off gaurd by her sudden appearance. Fully expecting the area to just be for you and him so he told her what first came to mind.

"Actually, conversations between Death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance."

Though perhaps the delivery wasn't as as good as he thought it was as JJ only stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

He thought it was interesting, really, but he supposed his slight stutter and breathy laugh at the end must have distracted her from his point.

He turned to look at you for help, but you too had been focusing on the messages and wouldn't be available to do that. So he just agreed with JJ’s sentiment, which seemed to be enough for her to leave.

He sighed out in relief.

"The lady never answers. Have you noticed it yet, Dr. Reid?" You turn to him as you ask.

He immediately refocuses on to the case and tries his best to reply after his prior blunder. "Oh uh-- Right, the dialogue in the ballad seems to be fractured. Well, it's more of a monologue than a dialogue seeing that there is no exchange of information."

A small smile graces your lips at that, and you gesture with a nod to go report your findings.

"So it is. Let's get going."

He follows you to where Hotch and Elle were discussing the sexual aspect of the crime and sees you take your place next to your mentor. The same position you were in when he was blowing out his birthday candles, as he also inserts himself into the discussion.

"Sir, we believe what the unsub has written at the scenes are most of the first three verses of the same ballad." You deliver, prompting your mentor to raise his brow at that.

"Most of?"

"Yeah, it's only one side of the conversation." Spencer adds. "There's no betwixt." He takes pride in your shared effort, which makes itself known by the smile that adorns his face.

Unfortunately, his satisfaction, isn't met with a positive reaction either as he sees Elle desperately trying not to make eye-contact, and your supervisor staring at him very pointedly.

He's thankful though at the little chuckle that you quickly try to hide behind a cough and a cover of your mouth to appear more professional. Quickly looking down at the ground.

He's happy that at least someone thought his joke was well-placed.

He continues to explain your theory about how the Lady in the narrative never answers, and that's enough for both Hotch and Elle to at least think about it.

Their attention is quickly stolen away however at an incoming call about a failed attempt nearby the precinct.

Quickly excusing themselves to get onto the scene as soon as possible, you see them call Gideon on their way out. Watching them as they leave the department doors.

But Spencer keeps his eyes on you as the thought just dawns on him.

You were the first one on the team to laugh at his jokes.

***

The more cases he works for the BAU, the more he realizes how much of his work isn't theoretical anymore. He feels it in the weariness in his eyes, the weight on his chest, and the shake of his hands.

Or maybe the shake is from the cold.

After all, he had dressed for the warm, California air. So now that he was in the cool, air-conditioned jet, he was seriously regretting not packing a sweater, at the very least.

He makes his way to the back of the aircraft after another successful investigation, and that's where sees you.

You had opted to shed your typically structured blazer on the seat beside you, leaving you in a softer blouse, both in color and form, that made everyone around you know that you were officially off duty.

It's a nice look on you, he thinks. A slight departure from your usually stern and hardened exterior. He wouldn't mind seeing a more relaxed version of you every once in a while.

A version of you that looked more your age and not constantly under the pressure of doing well.

He momentarily wonders if that's part of your mentor's influence as well.

He freezes a bit, as if catching himself in some depraved daydream, and takes a few steps back to return to the more vacant areas of the craft.

Before he can get any further though, you see him and beckon for him to come over with a tired wave of your hand.

"How's the flight treating you, Dr. Reid?" You ask, drowsiness lacing your tone as he sits on the seat opposite of you.

"Oh, it's the same as always, I guess. A little colder than usual, but that's to be expected. By the way, we’re actually lucky that we haven't experienced some semblance of turbulence yet on our flights, considering that the likelihood of it has increased by seventeen-percent in the last decade."

You laugh at that. "You really know just what to say, huh?"

He doesn't see it as funny as you do, so it seems. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or--" "There's no need to apologize, sir. I find everything you have to say interesting, whether you mean it to or not."

He stays silent at that, suddenly nervous, and tries to make himself comfortable. He does so in the hopes that he can finally steel himself to ask you that question.

He talked to Elle earlier when they were waiting for the unsub's call. Asked her if she thought it was weird that he knew what he knew, and if it had anything to do with his inability to get a date. She had reasoned with him that it was because he didn't ask, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

He mulls it over in his head before sighing. Opting to give up and just wait for a more opportune time.

Besides, jury’s still out that you could very well be pining over his boss.

The action, however, seems to remind you of something.

"Before I forget," You look into your baggage, rummaging around before finally finding what it was you were looking for.

You ask him to close his eyes, which he obediently does, and you place a thick rectangular box into his awaiting lap.

The sudden shift in weight causes his eyes to open, and he is certainly surprised to see what was on there.

"What is this?"

"It's your birthday. There wasn't a good time to give it to you, so might as well."

He takes the box into his hands and shakes it a little.

From the sound alone, or near lack thereof, there could be a multitude of things inside it. He looks at you questioningly and you only smile and gesture for him to open it.

He takes his time in doing so, and he doesn't know how or why, but he finds your reactions to his movements much more amusing than whatever could be in the box. As if you were more excited for him.

He finally peers into the now open box to see some sort of purple cloth. A ribbon of geometric designs cutting through its middle and he stares at it in wonder.

"It's a scarf!"

You smile at him, and he was thankful that the rest of the team were either asleep or just not paying attention as it allowed the both of you to savor the moment with at least some semblance of privacy.

"I've noticed that you had a tendency to wear a lot of layers. I wasn't sure if it was because you were cold, or you just liked dressing that way, so I made an educated guess and got you something practical."

And just like that, he's over the moon.

He immediately goes to put it on with a wide smile, paying no mind that it paired so badly with the short sleeves of his button up.

Not that he would know, nor care.

And just when he had been feeling cold earlier too! "Thank you so much. This means a lot to me, especially since you don't usually give gifts."

You shake your head. "I don't, but it's not everyday one spends their twenty-fourth at the BAU."

He continues to observe the cloth that now hung around him. Smoothing his hands over it as he does with an expression unreadable to you.

You worry a bit and hurriedly mention, "I'm sorry if it isn't your color. I see purple show up on your mismatched socks more than any other color, so I just assumed. If it's any consolation, purple is a great color to contrast the warmer hues in brown eyes?"

He flushes at your admission, but matches your urgency to set you straight. "No! Please, I actually really like it-- It's beautiful."

You breathe out a sigh in relief and nod slowly at that.

"Speaking of the color, did you know the origin of purple dye is actually quite fascinating?" His voice filled with enthusiasm. With his eyes, bright, and filled with a child-like fascination that makes your chest feel warm at the sight.

"Historically, purple dye was incredibly rare and valuable, which is why it became associated with royalty and nobility. The earliest known purple dye, known as Tyrian purple, was produced by the ancient Phoenicians around 1200 BC. It was derived from the secretions of a particular type of sea snail, the bolinus brandaris, found in the Mediterranean Sea."

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was boring you, but sees that you're still very much paying attention to him.

"The process to obtain this dye was incredibly labor-intensive and complex. It required thousands of these sea snails to produce just a small amount of dye. The snails would then be collected and left to decompose in large vats. After several days, a gland from the snail was extracted and crushed to produce a purple mucus. This mucus would then be exposed to sunlight, undergoing a chemical reaction that transformed it into the deep, rich purple dye we commonly associate with our modern day equivalent."

As he kept going, he suddenly remembered what Morgan had told him all those weeks ago.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking."

So he does just that.

He observes the way that your shoulders are more relaxed, how your eyes never stray from him, and how the small upturned curve of your lip makes itself known as you rest your cheek onto your propped up fist.

How he has your undivided attention and yet you don't even look the least bit bored of what he has to say. Only silently appreciating and subtly nodding along with the slow blink of your eyelids.

All clear signs of unguarded comfort, and or interest, in his presence.

Had you really been looking at him like that all this time?

Now the idea of you liking your boss seems silly. Especially when you’re looking at him the way he imagines himself looking at you.

"I did know that, actually, Dr. Reid. At the time, Tyrian purple wasn't only desirable for its rarity, people said it was also incredibly lightfast. That it was resistant to fading under the sun and the weather. Not to mention all that hard work that just to get a single gram of it. Then again, modern studies do claim that its lightfastness was, in fact, not an accurate feature as it's color diminished when it was exposed to light and UV radiation."

You laughed a little again, as if remembering some anecdote, and that sound was steadily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Following only after your speaking voice.

"Fortunately for you, doctor, I could only afford a synthetically purple-dyed scarf. Though that means that you won't ever have to worry about it fading under the sun."

Hands up in faux surrender, you give him a tired smile that he returns with one of his own.

A calming silence enveloped the both of you as you continue to bask in each other's presence.

At some point you doze off, draping your blazer on top of yourself to shield yourself from the cold, and that's when he starts considering Elle's words again.

"Do you ever ask anyone out?"

"No,"

"That's why you can't get a date."

He nods to himself, and reclines a little more into his seat. Snuggling into his new scarf that still has the faintest smell of you.

Maybe he will ask you out on a a date later.

_____________________________

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[the-tarot-witch22]

Your life purpose - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta | My year goal post | Give away

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Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you - 8 of wands, ace of pentacles, and the moon)

Okay so the very first thing I feel and heard is you guys are meant to experience new things in your life, to travel the world, or new places, many of you might be travellers or even, if you haven't travelled, then you guys might love to travel or foreign culture might attract you a lot, I also feel this pile has good intuition like they know thigs, sort of psychic or even Deja vu, might happen with you guys, I also feel in this life time, you might and tend to rush things, like you don't like to stay at one place longer than few hours, you need to keep moving or even feel productive, I also feel, in this life time you are meant to be your own person like many of you even have most independent issues, I also feel you are supposed to be financially secure, and if things don't go your way then it will, it just means there are things that needs to be better or you need to be better before you get the result you want, I also feel you are mean to help people, or grow yourself personally and professionally everything i feel for this pile is definitely related to your self, I also wanted to clarify more, but I got the feeling that as you grow, age wise, experience wise , you will figure it out yourself, and i also heard "don't be discourage, with time you will get the things you deserve", when i said people i meant emotionally and financially not like give everything at your own expense but simply means help a little if you can, it will do you good, ifykwim,I also sense a Capricorn , taurus and Sagittarius energy here, sun, moon and rising, anyhow I also feel in this life time you are meant to go through numerous transformations, and find your own path as you move on, i also feel there might be few or many lessons you could have gotten in friendships or if you ever were in relationship, or even your homelife might have taught you a lot. Some of you i need to say might get anxious too, like little things worries you so i have been called to say, just know be calm and be confident, and know that it's not you, it's them. and if it's you then you will get better, and by that i mean problems you might have or had.

Alright pile 1, that's all i got for you, all i wanna say is you guys are going on right path, and believe in yourself a little more!

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you - The lovers, King of swords, 9 of wands)

Okay so the very first thing i felt and heard is you guys might love, love. or be in love, sort of hopeless romantic i might add lol. But anyhow , let's dive deeper, you know the funniest thing? I feel this group is meant to find their other half in this life time, not saying that's your only purpose, but meeting your person is one of them and really a priority I feel in past life, you might have promised them to meet you again, and i felt goosebumps all over my body, totally unrelated but needed to be said. anyhow i also feel this pile are meant to find themselves, but not as much as their person, i feel there might be a urge of finding someone, and it's not because you are desperate it's because you have promised your person in your previous lifetime, and that is why you feel restless, like a fear of them not fulfilling their promise or you who could not be able to fulfill their promise, and that's a fear i see you feel. I also feel, there might be confusion in taking or making new decision you tend to overanalyse things, don't do that, if you feel your gut is right? go with it! no need to be too scared and live in "what if's", I also feel this group is academically intelligent or if academically average i might say you guys could be very witty, like you always have words ready to say, and god forbid if someone gets on your wrong side, you either cut them off, or show them who they actually messed with. anyways! I also feel you guys are meant to face some transformation in your adult life. There might have had some delays in good things, because universe prepares you first, I also feel check out pile 1 , there might be some messages for you there, I also feel you are meant to balance yourself, emotionally and in your personal life, I also feel one of your purpose is you need to stand up for yourself, to finally know your worth and what you were made for, I also feel there might be some of you who is confused for their career, like you might not like traditional things, do things your way or unconventional, I also feel you are meant to break generational curses, new things or bloodline starts with you, new purpose too!

Alright pile 2, that's all i feel for you guys, but i might say, your future person is coming soon, not gonna lie, they just kept giving me messages me lmao, they do miss you! so don't worry things will work out for you guys~

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you - 8 of cups, 9 of cups, and the world)

Okay so the very first thing I feel and heard is, you are meant to complete karmic cycles in your life. Let's dive deeper! I also feel this group might have felt and experienced betrayal a lot, like in your friendships or even relationships, it's specific for few of you, but i am getting someone cheated on you? like which gave you lots of trust issues. But anyhow! I feel this group is meant to love themselves and learn how to be alone like not too co dependent or having your happiness and anything dependent on anyone but you, I also feel, this group might isolate themselves a lot, if something hurts them, and they tend to take a lot to recover, I also feel in this life time, you are meant to grow on your own, universe means to tell you that you have everything in your heart , that you find in some place else, so embrace that, even with help of therapy or if not, taking it easy and one at times, I also feel this group is very emotional like, very sensitive, I also heard "heart of gold", so you people are meant to find that purpose on your own and not to take people's harsh words to heart, I also feel you are meant to feel happiness, if you haven't had many happy moments, the i see in future there is so much more for you, i also "heard keep going", "being alone is not a curse but a blessing", right person knows that, I also feel you are meant to use your skills, for good, many of you might be super creative or have good communication skills, but anyhow you are meant to express yourself your voice, not bottle up, let people know how special you are, I also feel you guys are supposed to go through hard time, or have gone through hard times, but don't be scared i feel it's just a small debt you had from past life, and in future you would be much more happier you have ever been!

Okay pile 3 - this is all i got for you, but you know guys you are doing amazing! Take it easy~

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[livwritesstuff]

for @steddie-week day 3 | long (and a little bit of mutual pining but the kind when they're literally dating which i think is even more pathetic)

tags: modern day, famous au, actor!steve, rockstar!eddie

Eddie stayed longer than he should have. 

He was supposed to leave Chicago with the rest of the band yesterday after their show at Credit Union 1 – opening night for a year-long national tour.

Eddie didn’t leave yesterday though. Instead, he insisted on spending one last night with Steve, one last morning pretending like they would actually get up and go to that breakfast spot they like even though they both knew they’d be spending the time wrapped up together in their bed, in the home they share, refusing to disentangle themselves until they had no other choice.

No other choice meant Eddie waited so long to leave that he ended up on a flight which would get him into Ohio with barely enough time to make it to the venue in Cincinnati before showtime (and he was missing soundcheck completely – sorta shot himself in the foot with that one, in Steve's opinion, though he won’t be caught complaining).

He won’t be caught doing anything – not publicly, anyway.

Steve and Eddie’s relationship is kind of in the halfway-stage between secret and private, where Steve posts vague, faceless photos of the two of them every now and then but still deflects questions about his romantic life during interviews because – look. He and Eddie are both at weird high-points in their careers at the moment, and that means there’s a lot of eyes on them whether they like it or not. Steve had a public relationship turn sour years ago and there is no way in hell he’s letting it happen again.

Not with Eddie. Not when it counts.

There are speculations, obviously (and after Steve dropped Eddie off at O'Hare, he posted a photo of the Kiss n’ Fly sign to his IG story with the caption i hate this place :( – mostly for his own amusement at the specific way his notifications implode afterward), and they’ll probably get around to an official hard-launch someday, but for now Steve likes that they’re keeping things to themselves, especially when they don’t get to make that choice with much else.

Steve gets a just landed text from Eddie a few hours after he boarded his plane.

(Steve knew. He’d been tracking the flight).

Before he could respond, Eddie added, miss you so fn much

i miss you too, Steve texted back, and before either of them could wallow in it too much, he sent, gonna make it on time?

probably, Eddie answered. Then, getting ready in the car lol

He goes quiet after that (the getting ready, presumably), which is fine.

Steve gets it.

He’s busy too. It’s why he’s not following along on Eddie’s tour like some glorified groupie, and it’s not like the distance is anything new. On the contrary, it’s been an element of their relationship since they met at an awards show after-party four years ago. It’s more that this time around, they were supposed to only have four-and-a-half weeks together before Steve headed off on a press tour for the movie he filmed last year, but then that got pushed out a bit further, and so that four-and-a-half weeks together turned into a glorious nine, the longest Steve and Eddie’s calendars had ever been aligned without some serious planning beforehand.

He just got used to it, Steve supposes.

He got used to having Eddie around all the time, under his fingertips, under his skin. He got used to saying goodnight in person, in their bed together instead of over phone lines, got used to waking up in Eddie's arms and hearing sweet nothings whispered in his ear rather than reading the texts Eddie would leave for him to wake up to when they were apart.

He'll adjust just like he always does, and the worst part will be over tomorrow morning – that moment right between sleep and wake when Steve will realize Eddie isn’t in their bed with him.

Like it or not, the distance is their normal and they make it work (except it’s not even making it work, because it’s not like that. Any situation, any set of circumstances will work without question because it’s Eddie).

The start time for the Cincinnati show comes and goes. A few minutes into the opening act and while Steve is mindlessly flitting between Instagram and TikTok waiting for the algorithm to fill his feed with clips from the concert (ones of Eddie, preferably), his screen lights up with a call.

“Hey,” he says the second he slams his thumb on the green accept button.

“Hey,” Eddie replied, his tone nothing short of grim.

“You geared up for the show?” Steve asked.

“No,” Eddie answered, “I’m quitting.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I need you to come tuck my pockets in,” Eddie said, and it’s a goddamn wonder Steve didn’t break down then and there, because Eddie always managed to tug his pants on in a way that made the front pockets stick out just a bit, and throughout their years together Steve had gotten into the habit of tucking them back in for him, squeezing Eddie’s hips a little when he was done and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Yeah,” Steve manages a wet laugh, “I – fuck, man, I wish I was there to tuck them in for you.”

“I want you here so bad, Steve," Eddie says, "I really, really miss you."

“I miss you too,” Steve nodded, even though miss isn't a big enough word for the homesick feeling in his chest, “Only a week until the Indy show though. And I’m coming with you for the Michigan one after.”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, and if he sounded a little morose about it, Steve was right there with him. Sure, it’s a comfort knowing he’ll be seeing Eddie again so soon, but when those two days are over…yeah, it’s gonna be a long goddamn while until next time, because Eddie will be playing the Midwest while Steve’s press tour is mostly on the East Coast this time around, and after that he heads up into Vancouver to shoot a period drama mini-series while Eddie plays the southern half of the US, and then…well, Steve could keep going. They’re both taking a short break for the holidays, but that and the rare weekend one of them can fly out to the other is about it for the foreseeable future.

Which, yeah, Steve loves acting, loves that he gets to make a whole career out of it, and he knows that Eddie feels the same way about his music, but…the love he has for Eddie definitely edges out the rest of it – enough that he feels the distance between him like a dull, ever-present ache whenever they’re apart.

Eddie only ends their call when his manager practically has to yank the phone out of his hand and shove him onstage, and then Steve settles back into bed, back into scrolling mindlessly on his phone waiting for his finely-tuned algorithms to do their jobs.

Sure enough, it takes less than thirty minutes for Steve’s FYP to start showing him TikToks from Eddie’s show, and amidst all the hair and leather and silver chains and chunky rings and eyeliner and manic energy, Steve sees something else, something that has the hurt of missing Eddie increasing ten-fold, something that has him seriously considering taking an ax to all his contracts and his career and his livelihood and getting on the next plane to Cincinnati.

Eddie left his pockets untucked.

[1-imaginary-girl]

Wolf Bite Pt. 2

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: Two weeks have passed since Klaus healed you and the two of you have gotten a lot closer. But when your friends find out about this, they have more than a few choice words for you. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: angst followed by comfort

Word Count: 4755

Part 1

A/N: I've been excited to write this one, I love some good angst but with a happy ending. I might have made the gang a little meaner than I think they are but at the same time, I can see them doing this lol. Also I might want to do another part which shows the more romantic side of their relationship, since this one's kind of lacking, and also where the gang gets what they deserve so let me know if that's something you'd be interested in! I love reading your comments. Okay enjoy!

It’s been a few weeks since you got bit by a hybrid. Since big bad Klaus Mikaelson saved you and told you he genuinely liked you. You’re still reeling from the incident and processing how you feel and what to do next. Your friends have been less than helpful.

That night, when your friends returned to find you no longer on your deathbed, they rejoiced for about 5 seconds. Joy quickly gave way to confusion and suspicion as they wondered how you were suddenly okay. Although a part of you wanted to keep Klaus’s visit to yourself, to keep that little moment untouched, you knew you had to tell them. Their reactions were not what you were expecting.

The group immediately scolded you for letting Klaus into your house. They were convinced that it was part of a larger scheme to have access to your home, with only Elena and Bonnie trying to argue that maybe he did it because he liked you. You felt reassured until they were eventually convinced otherwise. 

Of course, when you tried to explain how you felt and that he wanted nothing in return, no one believed you. That was the first time you felt real anger towards your friends. Not only did they leave you to die without even trying to ask Klaus to save you, but they were blaming you for saving yourself. Your anger was not met with sympathy as the group began to guilt-trip you, reminding you of all the horrible things Klaus has done and shaming you for defending him. After a while, you gave in to their words and let the anger go like you usually do. Well, not all of it.

The only person who truly made you happy these days, was the man in question. The only one who seemed to care if you survived. But more than that, he cared if you lived.

The morning after his visit, you awoke to discover that Klaus had left you his phone number along with a message that read: So I can do a better job of reminding you ;). You immediately remembered what he meant and it made you smile.

Since then, you and Klaus had been texting every day. He continued to check up on you and send good morning texts and you began to open up to him, sometimes being the person to text first. You feel like you have nothing to hide with Klaus and that you can be yourself without worry. You’ve learned a lot about the hybrid through the texts. For example, he can be really funny and will make horrible puns to make you laugh. You feel comfortable joking around with him.

Also, as promised, he has continued to shower you with compliments which make your day. You also start to believe his words and gain a little more confidence in yourself. 

Overall, you feel like you have become a lot happier since texting him, as well as hanging out more with Rebekah. The female original had also taken a liking to you at the start and your friends aren’t as opposed to you being friendly with her, although they don’t know how often the two of you hang out.

She was absolutely furious to hear about the hybrid bite incident and she blamed your friends more than her brother (although not completely absolving him of blame) for bringing you into their danger. She insisted that the two of you hang out more so she could look out for you which warmed your heart.

With your time being taken up by the Mikaelson’s, you find yourself drifting away a little from your friends. You don’t tell them about your friendships with the Mikaelson’s for obvious reasons and because you know they’d never believe you. They’re still cautious around you, suspicious that having Klaus’s blood in you might have changed your allegiance somehow like his sired hybrids. Personally, you think that’s ridiculous and doesn't make sense. You barely even talk about them when you’re with Klaus or Rebekah. But you also don’t want to add to their superstitions.

Still, you feel a little guilty for not seeing them as often, so when you hear from Bonnie that the group is meeting at Elena’s house to discuss some new problem, you decide to tag along.

Now you find yourself in the same position as always, standing in a corner listening to the group discuss plans while they ignore your presence. Not that you’d have anything to say. The discussion is over what to do with Alaric and his other half, but frankly you start to tune them out. You just wanted to hang out as normal friends, not as supernatural creatures facing another threat.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to see a text from Klaus: Hello beautiful, want to meet up for a bite to eat? 

Then he sends another text: Of the human variety, of course ;)

You smile and shake your head. You text back: I’m hanging with my friends, remember? The distraction is welcome as you wonder how long this meeting would take. You wonder if you should ask the girls to hang out after it wraps up. You haven’t had a girl’s day in a while. Although the thought of asking makes your palms sweaty and your stomach flip.

He texts: Aw, but wouldn’t you rather hang out with me? I promise I’ll be more fun.

You bite your lip to constrain your grin. You text: That’s not the point.

He immediately replies: Ah, so you don’t disagree?

You can’t help the small chuckle you let out. Unfortunately, the noise draws the group’s attention to their neglected member.

“Something you’d like to share with the class?” you hear Damon say. At first you don’t think they’re talking to you, but when the silence drags on, you lift up your eyes to find them all staring at you. Your cheeks quickly heat up.

“N-no, sorry,” you say, trying to remember what they were talking about to pretend as if you were paying attention.

You catch Caroline narrowing her eyes. “Who were you texting?” she asks and you stare at her shocked. You don’t know how she knew, or maybe she guessed, but your panic rises nonetheless.

"No one, nobody, uh—a classmate," you scramble to come up with a lie but you’ve been put on the spot.

“I don’t buy it,” the blonde says. You become too caught up in trying to figure out a way out of this awkward situation that you don’t notice the flurry of movement until it’s too late. Caroline speeds over and swipes your phone from your hand before you can react.

When her eyes meet the screen, they widen and your stomach drops. You speed over to her and grab the phone back before she can read your private messages, but the name of the contact had already been revealed.

“You were texting Klaus?!” Caroline yells, her confused and angry look quickening your anxiety. Unfortunately, this only causes a chain reaction within the group.

“What?”

“What the hell Y/N?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

A bunch of angry voices shoot your way and you’re too overwhelmed to respond properly. Still, you make an effort by saying, “I can explain—” But they just talk over you.

“Why are you texting him?” Elena asks which quiets the group as they wait for an explanation. Your throat dries up but you try to clear it.

“W-well, he left his phone number the night after he healed me—” 

“Of course he did!” Damon exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. You begin to feel frustrated that they won’t let you talk.

“He’s just been checking up on me,” you say. It's not entirely the full truth but you’re trying to diffuse the situation.

“Y/N, Klaus is extremely dangerous. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Stefan says in a softer tone that only makes you feel talked down to.

“He has done nothing but terrorize us since his murderous family moved to town!” Caroline yells, not at all softening her voice.

You clench your fists. “I know he’s done bad things, believe me I do, but he’s started to open up to me. I think he’s more complex than you guys think,” you say, finally speaking your piece. When you’re met with incredulous looks, you try to reason with them. “It’s not like everyone here is perfect or hasn’t done evil things.”

“Oh my god, you actually believe him,” Damon says, in disbelief and with a condescending smile. “You actually believe that he’s in love with you.”

Tears prick at your eyes at the implication and you look at the ground. “Damon,” Bonnie hisses. But it does nothing.

“No, I’m sorry, but you’re an idiot if you believe that. Klaus doesn’t have a heart to give,” he continues. He shakes his head with a laugh. “I mean, I bet he’s just been manipulating you to tell him our secrets.”

Your anger grows but that last sentence seemed to strike a chord in the group and the energy in the room suddenly becomes tense. “Wait, Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re in love with him,” Elena says in a concerned tone.

“Have you been spying on us for him?” Caroline asks. And just like that, the group’s paranoia brought on by the wolf bite resurfaces in full force as they all give you suspicious looks. You don’t believe this.

“God, no, you guys aren’t listening! We are just friends, and we only text each other,” you say, practically pleading with them to hear you out. But your anger remains boiling below the surface. “And we don’t even talk about you guys! Do you honestly think I would betray you that quickly?” You try to meet each of your friend’s eyes to get them to see rationally.

“Y/N, I think you’re making a huge mistake,” Elena says, completely avoiding what you’ve just said. You stare, shocked.

“We’re just trying to look out for you; he’s only going to hurt you in the end,” Bonnie pipes in.

“Yeah, so why don’t you go ahead and end this before you do something you regret,” Damon says. All of their words circle around in your head and suddenly you lose control of your fury. You can’t help it. You snap.

“Oh my god, just shut up!” you yell. “You guys have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you have any idea how miserable I have been for the last few months? All of you have slowly started to ignore me and cut me out of this group and I felt so alone. Now, I’ve finally found someone who has noticed me and who makes me happy, even if that person is Klaus, and you have the gall to stand there and tell me that he’s the one who’s going to hurt me? That you’re ‘looking out for me��?”

You breathe heavily, staring at your friends as they digest your words. But of course, Damon is the only one to open his mouth.

“You’re so naïve,” he scoffs. You glare at him.

“Am I Damon? Tell me, of the two of you, which one saved my life while the other stood back and was willing to let me die.” You look at all of your friends with burning tears in your eyes. “You were all just going to let me die.” A few of them have the decency to look ashamed. You shake your head and say the thing you’ve been holding back for weeks. “The Mikaelsons have been better friends to me in the past few weeks than you guys have been in years.”

A heavy silence coats the room. You feel a weight lifted off your chest. You had been quietly holding on to that anger, that resentment, for too long now. Maybe that’s what’s been keeping you from your friends. Maybe now that the truth has been laid out, you can start to rebuild. Your hope is quickly shot down.

“Well then, why don’t you go join their family? Because you are no longer welcome in this group,” Damon says. The sombre words make your anger fizzle out. Your jaw drops in shock and you find yourself struggling to breathe.

“That’s not true—” Bonnie says, glaring at the Salvatore.

“No he’s right,” Elena says. One of your closest and oldest friends, someone you’ve known since childhood, now looks at you only with disdain. “It’s them or us. And it’s clear which side you’ve chosen.”

You shake your head silently as a tear rolls down your cheek. The reality of the situation is quickly crashing down on you.

“You should probably go now,” Caroline says. You take that moment to meet each of your “friends” in the face. You silently plead with them to say something, to stand up for you, to fight for you. But it’s clear that that’s not going to happen. You’re either met with a glare or they won’t meet your gaze at all. You hold yourself together and, somehow, find the courage to walk away from them.

When your hand reaches for the doorknob, you hear Damon say, “Don’t be surprised if they don’t want you either.” You freeze. You take a deep breath and leave the house.

No one comes after you.

†††

Your feet carry you past your house. You don’t want to be in an empty home right now. But you also have no idea where to go. A hole is burning its way through your chest as the devastation from your friends wreaks havoc on your mind. The thought occurs that you could go to the Mikaelsons but you immediately shut that down. You hate it, but your friends words continue to hold sway over you. You start to convince yourself that they wouldn’t want you either.

You walk until you reach the edge of the woods and keep walking. Tears continue to trickle down your chin but you haven’t let your feelings out. Hidden from the town, you spot a fallen log and decide that’s as good a place as any to cry.

You slump down and take one deep breath before releasing the sobs that have been building in your chest. The world goes dark as you bury your head in your hands. What have you done? You single-handedly isolated yourself from the group. And you now feel utterly lost as you realize how dependent you have become on the group to define who you are. What use do you have now that you’re alone?

Dark thoughts continue to swirl over you as the tears rain from your face. You can’t go on like this. Maybe you should just go back and apologize to everyone. Just as you consider that option, your ears perk up at a distant sound. You bite down on your lip to silence your sobs as you listen for what you heard.

A twig snaps near you and your breath catches. You whip your head to the right, preparing yourself for the worst, when your eyes catch those of Klaus Mikaelson. A part of you feels better at the sight. Another part can't get what your friends said out of your head.

“Y/N?” he says, his face questioning. You try to quickly wipe away the tear tracks from your face, but it’s no use. When he takes a better look at you, his expression drops and he speeds over to you. “What happened?”

He’s on his knees before you. His eyes roam quickly over you, trying to spot any injury that might be causing you pain. You try your best to avoid the problem. “It’s nothing,” you say quietly, trying to keep the hurt from your voice. His concerned gaze indicates it did not work.

“It is not nothing,” he says, definitively. He waits for you to tell him, but you can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure it out for himself. When you don’t speak, he does. “I don’t understand, I thought you were supposed to be with your fri—” His eyes widen when you accidentally choke on a sob, filling in the blanks for him. You watch through blurry eyes as a dark cloud descends onto his soft features. When he meets your gaze, his eyes are glowering. He lowers his voice. “Did one of them do something? Tell me who did this to you.”

Even in your broken state, you know his anger isn’t directed towards you. You don’t fear his reaction and instead try to explain. You shake your head as you say, “I was with them and…we got into a fight.” You bite down on your lip as a sob threatens to take over your speech.

This only further ignites the fire in Klaus. “Where are they? I’ll tear out their throats,” he growls, looking past you as if trying to look for them from here. 

You lower your head, avoiding his reaction when you whisper, “It was my fault.” From the corner of your eye, you watch Klaus focus his attention back onto you. His anger melts into concern.

“What?” he asks, his voice returning to a softer tone. You lift your head and meet his worried gaze.

“It was my fault.” Your voice trembles and a tear rolls down your face. Klaus’s face becomes contemplative as he slowly wipes the tear from your cheek. Then he moves to sit beside you on the log.

“Tell me what happened, love.” He patiently waits for you to gather your thoughts. You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself and Klaus places a hand on your back in support. You send him a small, grateful smile before it drops.

You shift uncomfortably as you try to think of a way to begin. “Well…it kind of started because I was texting you,” you say awkwardly. His eyes widen and you see guilt cloud his features. You reach out and drape your hand over his to silently reassure him that he has nothing to feel guilty about. He brightens and you find the strength to continue.

“Um… they found out that I’d been talking to you and…they got angry with me,” you say slowly dredging up the conversation in your head. Your eyes begin to well with tears again and Klaus squeezes your hand. “They…they told me how you were a bad person and that I shouldn’t be seeing you.” You don’t see Klaus’s jaw clench as he looks away from you. “But I told them that that’s not how I see you.” His eyes return to you and he can’t help himself from interrupting.

“It’s not?” His words catch you off guard, specifically the shock and insecurity in them. You look at him and furrow your eyebrows.

“Of course not,” you say and he parts his lips in surprise. You think you see his eyes start to tear up but that could’ve just been you. 

Then he clears his throat and says, “Sorry, continue.”

“They…they told me that I was an idiot for thinking like that.” Klaus’s feature harden once more. “They said that you’ve been manipulating me and that…that you would never actually like me.” 

“Y/N…” He says your name with concern, but you won’t look at him. You don’t want the truth, not yet.

“They kept saying how they were just looking out for me, how you were using me to spy on them, and that you would only hurt me. Nothing I was saying was getting through to them.” Your fists clench as you remember the anger from before. Klaus notices and his worry only grows. “I just…I snapped. I finally told them how I’ve felt neglected by them for months. How they’ve ignored me time and time again and that I was finally happy for the first time in a long time. That’s because of you and your family.”

If you were paying attention, you would’ve seen Klaus’s face glow and his heartbeat speed up. He looks at you so intensely that his gaze could burn a hole through you. He looks at you like you are a beautiful light created just for him. Of course, his anger still burns strong at hearing your so-called friends treatment of you, but he never thought that he would be your light. But of course, you didn’t see any of this.

Your body deflates as your anger is overpowered by sadness. “Then they told me I should just go ahead and join your family because they weren’t my friends anymore.” Your breathing stutters as more tears slip past your eyes. You faintly feel the squeeze of Klaus’s hand. “I watched as all of my friends turned on me and kicked me out.” With the pain reigniting, you can’t hold back your sobs anymore. “And now,” you choke out. “I’m alone.”

As soon as you finish talking, Klaus is quick to envelope you in his arms. You grip his shirt tightly and bury your face into his neck. He holds you just as tight, with one hand around your middle and the other delicately holding the back of your head. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright,” he whispers, continuing to hold you tight as you let out all of your emotions. He continues to whisper reassurances until sobs stop wracking through you. He waits until your breathing has returned to normal before gently pulling away. Your grip slips away as you sniffle, trying to recompose yourself. But he only pulls away enough to place his hands on your shoulders. 

You reach up to get rid of the wetness on your face, but his hands beat you there. As his hands gently brush away your tears, you focus your attention on the man in front of you. The two of you are only inches away and your breath hitches with the realization. You’re suddenly embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this, and you’re sure your face looks like a complete wreck. But he only continues to look at you with concern and empathy.

His hands return to your shoulders as he offers you a small smile. “Okay?” he asks and you nod your head, sniffling one last time. He nods, his smile remaining as his hands fall into his lap. You notice, though, that he makes no move to distance himself from you. His smile slips from his face as a somber look replaces it. You’re afraid of what he’ll say with his face looking so worried.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, love,” he says. Then his eyebrows furrow. “But, why do you say that it’s your fault?”

You are not expecting that question. Your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh,” you say, trying to answer without dredging up anymore intense emotions. “Well, I started the whole thing.” That answer does not satisfy the hybrid as he continues to look at you. You start to become nervous. “I mean, I knew how they felt about you. And I ignored them.”

“Do you regret getting to know me, then?” he asks trying to keep up his indifference, but a wall is built nonetheless in preparation of your answer. You only widen your eyes.

“What? No, of course not.” Klaus releases a small sigh of relief. You’re starting to understand what he’s hinting at, but you’re not prepared to listen and you scramble to come up with something to defend your friends. “But…maybe I should have told them instead of keeping it secret. Or, I shouldn’t have brought you up or—”

Two hands are placed on either side of your face as your bleary eyes meet his. He waits a moment before speaking. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You squeeze your eyes, trying to block out the truth. But his hands don’t move from your face. “Your so-called friends are the ones who are in the wrong.” You take a deep breath and meet his gaze. His lips quirk upwards. “You deserve so much better than them. You don’t deserve to be treated that way.” You open your mouth on instinct, but any words of defense die on your tongue.

“I just…they’re all I’ve ever known. I didn’t want to lose that,” you say instead, the reality of the situation settling slowly in your mind. Your panic and grief at losing them is melting into acceptance and, if you’re honest, a bit of relief.

“I know, love,” Klaus says with a sad smile as he lets go of your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I wish they had been kinder to you. But they haven’t been acting like friends. You shouldn’t have to defend yourself to them or fight to make yourself seen and heard.”

You nod along, looking at your hands. “I suppose,” you say, which makes him smile at your progress. 

“And you’re wrong, you know.” His words causing you to look up in confusion. “You are not alone. Not if you don’t want to be.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“You’re always welcome with my family and I, no matter what your friends say.” Your eyes light up.

“Really?” 

“Of course, love,” he chuckles, relieved to see hope return to your face. “We happen to like you very much and would love to see more of you. If you’d like that, of course.” 

“I’d love that!” you say, a bit too enthusiastically. You blush and clear your throat. “I mean…I think I’d like that.” Klaus laughs which brightens your smile. You take a deep breath and you suddenly feel much lighter. “Wow. I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt this good.” Your smile dips. “I guess my friends really were holding me back, huh?”

Klaus offers a sympathetic smile. Then he takes your hand and squeezes it. “Well that’s all in the past now, right?” 

You nod. “Right.” You look at him and giggle as something hits you. “I promise, I’m not always in this much distress.”

He chuckles along, but gives you a genuine look. “You’re allowed to have off days. I certainly do.” You laugh. You take in the beauty of the man sitting before you, the man who is supposed to be villainous and evil instead helping you feel light and happy.

“Well thanks for coming to my rescue for the second time.” The both of you smile, and you suddenly look at him seriously. “Seriously, thank you Klaus.” 

He blinks back his surprise as he takes in your serious features. He recovers with a smile. “Anytime love.”

A silence falls over the two of you, and as much as you’d like to spend forever in this moment, today’s events have both emotionally and physically drained you. You take a look around and notice the darkness of the woods. 

“It’s pretty late, huh,” you say, awkwardly trying to transition the conversation. Luckily, Klaus catches on quickly.

“I could walk you home if you’d like.” You almost reply with a yes, but then you hesitate. The thought of returning to an empty home, all alone with your thoughts again, doesn’t sound too appealing. “What’s wrong?”

You’re surprised that he noticed your hesitation. But you tell him the truth. “I just…I don’t want to be alone right now,” you say, avoiding eye contact as you can’t help but think of your statement as pathetic. Klaus’s face softens and he thinks for a moment.

“You could come home with me, if you’d like.” His gentle voice soothes your worries. At first, your cheeks heat up at the implication. And then your anxiety causes you to spiral.

You turn to him with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to imply that I should come over—I mean I’d love to, I mean I just wouldn’t want you thinking that I was seeking your attention or anything—”

He shuts you up by placing both hands on your shoulders again. You guess he noticed it helped the last time. You stop talking and look at him to see a calm expression. “I would be honoured to have you in my home,” he says with a smile. You release a breath of relief as a smile creeps onto your lips as well. “Besides,” he drops his hands. “I’m sure my sister will be happy to have another girl around.”

You laugh at his statement, your anxieties slipping away for the moment, just as he had hoped. Klaus stands up from the log and offers you his hand. “How about it, love?”

You look from his smile to his hand and then back again. You bite your lip to try to contain your excitement. “Okay,” you say, and you take his hand.

* * * * *

Those who asked for a second part:

@marauders-luv @hyperactivewhore @elijahslittleprincess @bellarkeselection @vickymendes30 @susannahmikaelson

[mayakern]

If you don't mind sharing, what happened to vanetta's ex Edmund and his new saintess gf?

oh boy, so, a LOT has happened here so BUCKLE UP.

(and here’s a picture of vanetta for context for the maybe 2 other ppl who will read this huge post, which i have tried to summarize)

TLDR: after vanetta “died” and was yeeted into time travel, edmund died and charlotte saved the world. but edmund got brought back… and he came back wrong.

but the full story is so much weirder than that:

the core conceit of this game is that we are time (and place) hopping every time the party levels up, and mostly this is pretty normal—someone who’s from an ancient time visits a future date and finds out their country no longer exists, someone from the future goes to an earlier time and is shocked by the severely lacking technology, etc etc

except for vanetta, who is not from the past or future. she is from a book series. and she has JUST discovered this.

our most recent time hop has taken us to a dystopian capitalist future that takes place in a big mall in outer space (think a combination of tron, zenon: girl of the 21st century, wall-e and other similar media), where our wizard comes from.

and as soon as we materialize there, vanetta is recognized as a “really high quality and authentic cosplayer” of, well. herself. the book series she is from (the briar path) is popular on a level that basically combines twilight, harry potter and the bible all in one. it is fantastically popular, but also pretty old, and also is continually getting remakes and re-releases and right now they are currently making a manga adaptation of it. and it has a very active fanbase that writes a lot of fan fiction. this is, somehow, incredibly plot relevant.

an npc shows vanetta the comic, which currently i think covers 2 of the books in the series, and it shows her being depicted as basically your typical shallow, unsympathetic villainess character. and it depicts her death: the moment when, on the ramparts of the palace she was meant to preside over, she is faced with an angry mob seeking her death on one side and the crown prince (edmund, her former fiance) and charlotte (the saintess, his new woman, who in the fiction of the book was isekai’d into the world of the briar path) on the other side. vanetta climbs onto the rampart and makes a big impassioned speech (aka a villain monologue) about how pathetic and horrible they all are and when charlotte makes a swipe at her, vanetta chooses to let it unbalance her, forcing charlotte to live on with the guilt of her death.

only, the real vanetta doesn’t die. she gets yeeted out of time and space with three other time travelers. and our story continues

anyway, back to present day, the manga adaptation has just reached the part of the series where edmund dies—something vanetta did not know about. but just because he died in the book doesn’t mean he died in real life.

see, edmund had some pretty devoted fans. and one of them, who thought edmund was robbed by the narrative, got into some ancient, evil magics and combining this with the immense power of FAN FICTION, he tried to bring edmund out of the novel and into real life, and in the process ended up fusing with him and also with a force called The Hunger, a roiling miasma of despair that was the ultimate evil in the novels.

and so they all fused together and became a new thing. a god. in fact, our yuan-ti paladin’s snake god. who uhh subjugates and eats all non-snake people. the creation of this god also uhh was a huge cataclysm that basically started the earth apocalypse that lead to everyone ending up in the sky.

vanetta has JUST managed to secure annotated copies of the entire series that include academic commentaries and notes on historical context and the first chance she gets she is reading them so hopefully i’ll get more info soon lol

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 20/Dec/2024

This week was a realisation of just how close Christmas break is, lol!

So then it was making sure to get everything checked off!

That was a bit more of a squeeze this year as the Winter scenario specials have all ended up waaaaay longer than I meant them to by thousands of words… :D

So that’s been nearly 20,000 words extra this month on top of making sure to hit my chapter 6 goals!

Though writing the scenarios and chapter six meant I got to write multiple Adam/Ava kisses this week: for the scenario and the main game. So it’s been a busy week for A ;D

I will be working this weekend and likely next week, but I will be starting my break from social media, etc, from tomorrow. In the same vein, we will be back on January 6th but won’t be back on social media, etc until 13th January.

That first week back will be used for planning out the year ahead and getting a head start on a lot of very fun stuff to come!

Hope you all have the most amazing and magical holiday season if you celebrate! If not, then I hope you have a fantastic December and New Year!

Talk to you all then! <3

[revelboo]

Has anyone told you today you are one of the best blogs to be found this side of the sun? Cause you sure as hell are. Also I cry every time at TFP Starscream being called a "turkey" cause omg he looks like one 😂 (thats also a nickname I got a lot as a kid xD A varient of "goober" lol) Also glad you are starting to upload some of these to Ao3 cause tumblr can be kinda hard to find things on xD especially with longer things. Also as a Optimus lad im falling over myself for you OP stuff, I eat everyting up between Op stuff and eagerly await TFA Op again (whenever you get the vibe to at least)

He’s definitely one of my favorite iterations of Optimus! Still serious, but not as jaded and so burned out, much more willing to smile still

Broken Heart Pt 3

TFA Optimus x Reader

• Always uncomfortable picking up and carrying Sari because of how fragile she is, you're no better. Can feel your heart beating against his servos, but where Sari is bold and fearless, you're less certain and almost timid in his hands. Glancing up at his face again and again as he carries you cradled to his chassis. Do you feel pressured to go with him? Is that it? He hadn't meant to make you feel like you had no choice. "Are you sure you don't need a human medic?" Reaching a servo to touch your forehead and the little cut there, he’s uncomfortably aware of the discolored spots appearing on your skin. Bruises Sari had called them and these are his fault. Unable to protect you from his own hands.

• Shaking your head, you're not sure if it's because he saved you from that other one or if it's his deep, soothing voice, but you feel safe with him. “You saved my life,” tell him, cautiously resting a palm against his chassis when he looks down at you. “I- thank you,” you finish awkwardly, hating how inadequate those words are. He could have saved himself, not risked his own life to try and protect you, a complete stranger not even his own species. He’d been hurt for you. And nothing you do can ever be enough to repay him for that.

• You’re thanking him? Don’t you realize Blitzwing only attacked because of him? If anything, you should hate him. He should be begging you to forgive him for endangering you, but the words fail him when you rest your head against his chassis. And you’re so small in his servos, warm and needing him in a way Sari rarely does with so many other protectors who are better at talking to her. Connecting and understanding her. “You never need to thank me for keeping you safe.” Aware of Bulkhead watching the interaction, he vents softly. Because no matter what he does, there’s always going to be that guilt that you were in danger because of him and he wants so bad to make it right.

• Relaxing into those big hands, exhaustion is all that’s left after the fear and adrenaline slip from you. Just want to curl up and rest. Maybe have a good cry somewhere safe. And even though you have no idea where he’s taking you, you’re strangely sure it is a safe place. That there’s nowhere safer than in his hands. When he approaches the old building, it doesn’t look that impressive as the green one slides open the big hangar style door so they both can duck inside. And then your heart is racing again. There’s more of them, see their optics widen when they spot you before a red and white one hurries over. From somewhere further inside the building, you can smell chili cooking and your stomach growls. “What happened?” The red and white one snarls as the big, green alien heads deeper into the building and you hear him talking to someone, saying, “You came back.”

• “The Decepticons happened,” he says, attention sliding from Ratchet to you as you try to hide your face against him as if uneasy with the other’s curiosity. “It’s alright. They’re friends,” he adds, trying to reassure you as you glance up at him. Looking to him for protection and it spreads warm through his spark. Wants to be worthy of your trust, to be your protector to make up for endangering you to begin with. Shifting you against him, he introduces himself and his fellow Autobots, smiling when you softly offer your own name.

Previous

[504py]

In Ink, Unsaid - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

Your knight is appointed to tutor you, and he falls asleep during your lesson. It leads to a cute interaction involving his hair.

hell yeah finally got this out!! this one's a lot longer than the first part, i pray it ain't too wordy LOL. once again art by me and hope y'all enjoy!!

Historical inaccuracies, I suck at old-timey speak, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, mutual pining, almost a Leon character study. It's a little more romantic this time.

1, 2, 3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't think you've ever seen Leon make a mistake. It unsettles you a little, how much composure and perfection he seems to uphold. You tend to watch him a lot because of it, growing a strange compulsion to always have your eyes on him.

Whenever you see him through a window while passing by, the sight of him slows you down a bit before you continue on your way. Whenever he walks past the room you're in, your eyes dart to his figure on impulse, trying to take in as much information as you can before he's out of your sight. Leon walks too fast, you find yourself thinking a lot.

Paradoxically, when you're close enough to actually see his face, you find yourself unable to look at him. You try to, but he's already staring at you, and he never looks away first, so you do. Whenever you look at him, his eyebrows raise slightly, like he thinks you want something from him when you do. The pressure from it is surprisingly crushing, so you simply cannot imagine holding eye contact with Leon for more than two seconds.

This strange fascination of yours with your new knight has materialized itself in the form of behaviors that might align themselves with a stalker's. You've drunken in all the little details about him. You recognize the sound of his footsteps, the dent in his left vambrace, since he tends to guard his body with that arm, and the moles on his knuckles. Since you can't look at his face when he's actually near you, you've taken to staring at his hands or his feet. He rarely ever shifts his weight between each leg, even if he's been standing for a long time. It makes you more conscious of how you carry yourself... Speaking of posture, he tends to tilt his head to the right slightly when he rests.

Rest and any of its synonyms are words you'd rarely use to describe anything related to Leon. The most you'd seen him do something as relaxed as resting, was that night he sat by your bed till the thunderstorm passed.

So how do you know his habits when he rests? Shockingly, he's doing it right now, in front of you, during your first tutoring session together.

His eyes were rather bloodshot and dull when he entered the library, a feigned intensity in them like he was trying to convince himself he wasn't tired. He knows you notice, but you don't ask about it, and he seems to be glad you did.

"...This arrangement is rather unorthodox, is it not?" You ask as he sits down across from you.

Leon puffs out a little breath, not enough to be a sigh, but noticeable enough. You are unsure if it is out of annoyance.

"I suppose so, my lady, but your mother was the one who appointed me to tutor you today."

You frown a little. It's not like you disliked Leon at all, but you tend to find him a little too... tense to be around. He seems so structured and confident and it makes you afraid to make mistakes around him... Besides that, he's got a really intense stare that doesn't fare well with your nervous composition.

"...Do you dislike having me as your tutor, my lady?" He queries, the faintest hint of doubt and dejection in his voice.

"I–" You try to start, but he cuts you off, "It's not meant to be taken in any personal manner, my lady, but..." He takes in a sharp inhale, realizing he interrupted you and maybe stepped over a line. Leon pauses and watches you carefully, waiting to see if your expression will contort or if you'll start to reprimand him.

...You just avert your eyes, so he continues.

"Perhaps you'd fare better with someone you were more comfortable with... my lady."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm rather alright, Sir Leon. I apologize for complaining."

"Forgive me for pushing, my lady, but you always feel rather tense around me. Is that for any particular reason? Perhaps I could help."

"I, uh..." Your gaze falls to your lap, "I'm just not sure why mother chose you. Your schedule is rather full as it is, is it not, Sir Leon?"

"Well, I can promise you I'm very well-educated, my lady." He says, but as he observes, it doesn't do much to soothe your nerves.

"...Spending more time with you is always a pleasure to me, my lady. I promise that to you too."

That wrinkle between your eyebrows soften, and your shoulders drop.

Leon does surprisingly well as a tutor. You suppose it's because of his rugged impression that you thought the opposite, but even the way he speaks is well-constructed and seems to have been planned in advance.

If your mother had never appointed Leon as your tutor today, you'd never have really noticed how calming his voice can be. Whenever he's spoken, it always sounded like a command, even if he's trying his best to be respectful. His voice usually comes off too strong, too deep in his chest, too loud sometimes, too much authority. Usually you tend to shrink in your skin a little whenever he speaks, but now, he sounds so relaxed that you feel like he could lull you to sleep at any moment.

Ah– it seems he's beat you to the chase, though.

It took you a little too long to notice, but Leon has fallen asleep in front of you, cheek resting against his right fist and his left hand still resting on the book's page.

You freeze up, not wanting to do anything that'd wake him up. You understand that a tutor falling asleep in front of a student would be highly inappropriate, but you still felt that it would be rude to wake him. Is he a light sleeper? You wonder how exhausted he must be to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable situation, and it makes your heart ache.

He's breathing lightly, you wait a bit, see if he'll wake up on his own. Maybe it's just your own excuse to watch him while you can.

His eyelashes are a lot longer than you thought, and you don't think you've ever seen him without that crease between his brows, and an almost-scowl on his lips. Leon's hair was of a color and style that confused you. Some days it felt brown, sometimes it was blond, or something in between. You've convinced yourself it depended on his mood or the weather. As for the length... the fringe always seemed to obscure his eyes slightly, so you've always wondered why he didn't just cut it. Especially when he wears his helmet, and he makes a bit of a fuss when his bangs get pinned underneath his visor.

Unconsciously, you've been reaching forward to brush away the strand of hair hanging in front of his nose, hoping to get a better look of his face.

Leon's eyes flutter open, his pupils adjusting to the light before they dilate as they settle on you. Your arm flinches back to your side.

He mumbles your name, intimately, no honorifics or titles, and your face warms.

"I– Leon– Sir Leon, hello," You breathe out shakily, "You fell asleep."

The message takes a few seconds to reach his just-woken-up brain, before his eyes widen and he immediately sits up properly.

Words come spilling out of his mouth, this is the first time you've seen him stutter. "I'm so sorry– I'm incredibly sorry, my lady, I apologize for my inappropriate behavior, I don't know why I dared to do such a thing, and why I keep making mistakes today–"

"Leon."

He bites on his tongue and his eyes are slightly wide as he stares at you.

"...It's alright, I promise."

The tips of his ears are a bright red, and that same flush seems to be creeping up from under his shirt collar to his neck. He takes in a few deep breaths, and he looks unsure. This is the second time you've seen him wear this look now. He takes in a deep breath.

"I... I apologize, my lady." He bows his head towards you. The roots of his hair were a deeper brown compared to the rest of his locks. You wonder if he's not even a real blond. Perhaps hours of staying under the sun lightened his hair.

You space out staring at him, and Leon straightens his neck. He can't recall maintaining eye contact with you for this long, and it makes his abdomen feel warm, even if he knows you're not really all there.

"My lady?"

You finally blink, and at the realization your blank-eyed gaze settled on him, your eyes widen and you immediately look elsewhere. You decide to rest your sight on his hands.

"Is there something wrong with my hair?" His fingers twitch, slightly restless.

"I... What makes you say that, Sir Leon?"

"You've been eyeing the top of my head for a while. I felt your hand near my face while I was waking up, as well, my lady."

Your heart skips a beat, and the way your blink catches for a second and the way you seem to choke on your spit isn't missed by the knight-now-tutor across from you.

"I-It's quite alright, my lady." He rushes out, his heart dropping at that look on your face. He's not even sure what's "alright", but he just wanted to offer you any bit of comfort so things don't escalate, in the fear he was too forward with confronting you.

He remembers the musings of his fellow knights about his hair, about how could he see with all that bother, how it could get in the way during combat, or how it just looked a little funny. Truth be told, his hair was the result of continuously forgetting to go get a haircut because he fixated so much on work, but now he keeps it out of spite. Leon insists he can do perfectly fine to anyone who says otherwise, but if it's you...

Leon breathes in slightly, and his hands move away from your line of vision. You follow them, and he's pushing his fringe back as much as he can. He's trying to tuck it behind his ears, and it almost makes you laugh, how gentle the gesture is, then you realize how beautiful he actually looks. Your cheeks warm, and you cannot look away.

"Is this better, my lady?" He asks, strangely demure in his demeanor.

You chuckle, and his heart soars at the noise, "You missed a spot." you comment, before your hand raises for a second, nearing his face.

"Ah– May I?"

"Of course, my lady." The devotion leaking from his voice is punctuated by the mole on his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

Your fingers are slightly shaky as they clear the few strands of hair he couldn't pin back. The pads of your fingers graze his forehead, and he takes in a sharp breath. Physical contact between you two was relegated to holding onto his hand when he assisted you, and nothing more, so he wasn't a stranger to it. So he can't really understand why such a tiny act has such an effect on him.

You sit back, properly look at him, and smile. He feels slightly shy under your scrutiny, but he hopes you find him good-looking at the very least. He does have the face to pull off shorter hair, but something about it felt like you were seeing him naked. He felt under-decorated without his fussy hair.

"Mm... I think you look best just as you are."

Leon breathes out a little laugh accompanied by the toothiest smile you've seen on him thus far, which really isn't much, but it comes off just as endearing. The bags under his eyes seem to disappear as his eyes turn into happy crescents. Adoration is dancing around in his pale blue irises, and in the reflection of his dilated pupils, it's only you.

"Thank you, my lady... It makes me happy to hear that."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[yandereshingeki]

The Antithesis of Decay

made for @ficsforgaza’s Kinktober!

⬑ please check them out! ⬏

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x afab!reader

Content Warnings: Stuckage, fingering, dub/noncon, no gendered pronouns, but reader is described to have bigger hips than their waist (no big specifications though). meant to take place between s3 & 4

Summary: An escape through the alleyway ends in a terrifying run-in with a wanted villain.

Managed to write this entirely in a single day 😵‍💫 it gave me a headache doing it that fast but thank god i got it done! It was a lot longer than I intended (stuckage is hard to keep short akhsheja & i originally wanted to go full smut but then wrote too much) and was a little bit difficult to navigate cause I don’t think about shiggy in a sexual way BUT !! I DID IT!

This is also the first time I'm posting something I've written in present tense, I'm just trying to experiment and figure out how I like to write lol

Shiggy lovers i hope this is adequate!!

Another crash. Another roar. Another Nomu.

You're in the thick of it, beside a building, half-destroyed, and another one completely toppled to the ground. There's screaming and panic, citizens running in every which way to escape the crossfire. Another building is about to collapse, and the monsters take no hesitation in using it as leverage to fight.

There are other heroes here, maybe three, or even more now if there were any on patrol nearby; it isn't clear through the fog of dirt and smoke. It isn't enough though. None of you had the strength or stamina to fight against the group of Nomus that appeared. Especially not by yourselves, even if you barely outnumbered them. The rubble is building. The ground is practically shaking under their destructive hands. They have the absolute advantage.

  Your quirk isn't built for such a fight, even as a pro, and your combat skills would prove useless against those monsters. You're meant to be more of a support hero than anything, someone usually waiting on the sidelines to rush in and heal the defending heroes in fights. The limits of your restorative quirk meant it was wise to steer clear from the heart of the battle and avoid being hurt, so the best course of action would be to run. Run and find backup. That's the most you can do for now; the most you can try to save what remains of that small city sector.

You choose your path quickly, remaining observant of the chaos around you. Cracked asphalt and concrete, dust flying everywhere from the destruction, debris from the second half-collapsed building scattered everywhere. The Nomus remain distracted by the other heroes, so despite the obstacles, there's a clear path to the closest alleyway. From there, if you can just reach the other side of the buildings and escape harm's way, you'll be safe to make the call.

You can make it, you believe — as long as you're fast. Confident, you take off, bound for the crack between two untouched office buildings nearby, the spring in your costume's boots allowing you to move more efficiently. With such quick speed, you nearly run face-first into the wall, entering it at an angle that's easy to correct with a simple push off against the brick. From there, the path is a straight shot to the other side, only separated by a feeble chain link fence. There's a hole that looks just big enough for you to crawl through at the bottom of it, the wire pried upward to create a gap. You can make it, you repeat in your head. The coast is clear, you can make it.

  Stumbling to a stop in front of the mesh barrier, you drop to your knees as quickly as your body will allow, planting yourself onto your stomach afterward. The opening is much smaller up close, but it's nothing you can't army-crawl your way through. Your costume was made to be dirtied and protect you in the heat of conflict, so having it scrape across the rocky ground while you drag your way under the fence isn't an issue. Its durability was the least of your problems — until now, that is..

  The elastic fabric snags on the wire once you squeeze your head and arms through the hole. Time is sensitive, you don’t have any to waste on something trivial like this. You try to reach back to untangle it, only to find the wire completely stabbed through. 

  With a heavy sigh and adrenaline crawling in your veins at the delay, you manage to move back a sizable distance before you try again, but it’s useless. The ends of the wires are sharp and stab into your suit with ease, holding you back. You needed to try something else, you needed to be fast.

  Before you can attempt to force your way through the hole, a voice arises behind you. Raspy and hoarse, you don’t even realize he's there until he speaks.

  “Oh, look at what we have here. A hero, is it?”

  His approach is slow, and you only hear his footsteps once he's standing over you. Your entire body goes stiff, your blood running cold as you curve your spine back to look at him.

  "Shigaraki," you whisper, terrified, under your breath. 

  "Oh, you know me already? How nice, I suppose we can skip the introductions then." 

  You can hear your breath hitch in your throat when he speaks and feel his presence as he looms right behind you, bending at the knees to crouch down over your legs.

  "I've seen you on TV," he starts, and you hold back a scream when you feel four rough fingers gently touch the back of your thigh, "You've got quite the impressive quirk, you know. Restoration quirks are hard to come by. And yours…"

  He pauses again, glides them up to where your hip and femur jointed together, and relishes in the way you shiver before he continues, "It's the exact opposite of mine. I guess you can only restore organic things, sure, but — it does make me wonder."

  You're hardly listening to his little ramble, your heartbeat drumming too loud in your ears to process anything — but then, your head goes blank when you feel all five of his fingers cup around your hip. Panic sets in fast, and you find yourself writhing before you can think, trying to force your way through the fence. The metal wires only dig into your skin, causing even more pain as you realize you're hips are too big to fit, and you wouldn't have made it anyway.

  Tomura only chuckles lightly at your reaction, watching the bottom half of your hero suit disintegrate into dust. You don't even realize it until you're already crying, and a cold breeze hits your face and bottom half. His hand is on you. Touching you. Feeling you, and yet.

  You don't feel any pain. His touch is simply normal against your skin. His palm is surprisingly warm, but dry. And you don't disintegrate. You don't disintegrate.

  Tomura laughs again at wide eyes and gaping mouth as if you should have expected his quirk to cancel out with yours. He slides his palm across your bottom, down to the back of your thigh again to caress it up and down slowly. Carefully. His touch lingers far longer than you're comfortable with.

  "Your quirk activates automatically when it's your own body, right? I wonder how long I can keep doing this for, then." He speaks so casually, acting like you weren't trapped and half-bare under him.

  "I've always wanted to be able to touch someone like this again. No gloves, no barriers. Just skin. When I saw you on the news and heard about your quirk, I thought you were perfect. Aside from that pesky hero stuff, that is," he frowned slightly behind the hand on his face, moving his own to grip at the fat of your ass, "You have no idea how frustrating it is to be unable to touch something without it falling apart."

  You let out a loud squeak, feeling his weight on the back of your knees when he sits on them, squeezing and kneading your flesh in his hand. There are tears in your eyes, and you struggle to twist around to look back at him, where he sits proudly like a king on his throne. Seeing such a widely known villain — being face to face, but being stuck and having him touch you like this. It felt humiliating. Humiliating to who you were as a person and a hero. You felt sick to your stomach.

  He frowns a little at the pathetic look you give him, only tightening his hold more, "Come on, don't look like that. I haven't done anything yet."

  As he speaks, he slides another hand underneath you and pulls your hips up slightly, your spine beginning to ache at how it was strained. You can only shake as you watch him, the hand that was gripping your ass moving to slide a single finger down the center of your underwear, sending a large jolt up your spine.

  In an instant, you look forward again, covering your mouth to hold back any noise you'd almost let out. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of making a sound, let it be cries or anything. So you force yourself to silence, even as tears roll down your face.

  Tomura only grins, running the finger up and down the fabric a few more times just to feel you jolt before hooking around the lining to pull it off to the side, stuffing it between your thigh and outer labia to keep you exposed. You clench up at the cold air, another shudder roving through your body as Tomura holds back a chuckle.

  Without another thought or word, he immediately dives in, his two fingers sliding between your folds, feeling whatever you can offer him before moving down to the bud below. You shiver, but are otherwise completely frozen as he does this, not even knowing half of what to do to retaliate.

  "Not too wet yet, I see. That's ok, I can fix that." He says, beginning to prod around for that extra sensitive spot he knew you wouldn't resist. A lightbulb goes off in his head when you jolt suddenly, your hips shaking extra whenever he squishes or pokes at it. With a grin plastered under that embalmed hand, he starts to move his fingers around in slow, gentle circles.

  The coarseness of his fingers doesn't help the sensation they bring on, that feeling of soft ecstasy pulsing through your body slowly like a drum. You hold back your sounds, at least, only your breathing growing heavy as he watches you clench around nothing. 

  It isn't enough for him. He needs more than this, he needs you prepared, and that wouldn’t come from just a few measly touches. 

  His fingers move faster, gaining enough friction that he has you audibly gasping, slick already building up just below. It doesn't take as long as expected, like your body is reacting on primal need. It almost makes him wonder — maybe you're getting off to the position he has you in, even if you don't realize it.

  He gives you a few more minutes of soft touching, allowing a good amount of wetness to accumulate between your shaking thighs before moving his fingers up. He gathers your natural lube on his digits, humming as he slathers it all over your pussy to make it nice and glossy before dipping them back in, finally allowing them to take the plunge.

  As if you weren't already amply humiliated, the way his fingers toy with you before pressing in is distracting enough that he manages to draw a squeak out of you the second he dives in.

  "Ohh, give me more of that. Don't be shy." He says, sliding his digits out slowly, licking his lips at how slick they are before shoving them back in.

  His fingers are so long, soaking knuckle-deep inside of you and reaching parts that your own couldn't. You would rather die at his hands now than ever admit it to anyone, but god, it feels good.

  He's already moving them so fast, curling them all around like he's searching for something. It felt too good to be touched by someone like that. You haven't slept with another person for over a year, so it's like a new foreign feeling and an old friend all at once. You can't stop yourself. Your brain grows foggier with each drag of his fingers, like he's scratching an itch you couldn’t by yourself. You couldn't hold it back anymore.

  You let out a quiet, croaked moan, covering your face with your hands to hide how embarrassing it is to indulge in something so crude with someone like him.

  A wretched smile immediately dawns on Tomura's face, and he moves his hand even faster, trying to milk more sounds out of you before he moves on. He wants you to make more noise, to hear how good a disgusting villain like him is making a great hero like you feel.

  From there, the sounds just spilled out. He’s surprisingly quick to find the smooth spot inside of you, pumping over it repeatedly until you’re a wriggling, gasping mess. The coil inside of you is winding up tight, growing ready to burst at almost any second. 

  It's so degrading, being face down in the concrete while a villain is digging his fingers so deep into you. But you weren’t thinking about that anymore. Your mind is too focused on how good it feels rubbing against your walls, the friction driving you crazy with how fast it builds up.

  Then, like electricity in your veins, it comes crashing through your body all at once. The pleasure, the ecstasy. Your body practically vibrates against his hand, an unforgiving orgasm ripping through your entire system until you’re panting like a dog, still pulsing around him as he slowly removes his fingers and wipes them on your thigh.

  As you return from your high, the quiet chuckling unnerves you. And then you feel sick to your stomach again. You’re still recovering, but you’ve come to your senses enough to look behind you.

  The sight you see has bile rising in your throat. He’s already grabbed onto you again, unzipping his pants with one hand while he speaks.

  “So, what do you think your little hero friends would think if you had sex with a villain?”

[changbunnies]

Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading. 

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically. 

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see. 

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely. 

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him. 

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read! 

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises. 

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken. 

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful! 

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t. 

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind. 

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there. 

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already. 

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue. 

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you. 

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!” 

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before. 

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name. “If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even. 

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained. 

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house. 

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances. 

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world? 

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone. 

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!” 

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips. 

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least. 

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that. 

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now. 

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him. 

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller. 

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath. 

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you. 

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before. 

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you. 

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.” 

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him. 

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day. 

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror. 

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually– 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you. 

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all. 

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body. 

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist. 

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it. 

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling. 

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it. 

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock. 

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.  

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away. 

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right. 

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release. 

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.” 

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky. 

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer. 

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs. 

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them. 

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away. 

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening. 

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems. 

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.