#did anyone do anything about social movements?

[teamatsumu]

compression. (sakusa kiyoomi x reader)

summary: atsumu is the perfect person to feed your obsession with kiyoomi’s arms.

word count: 1172

warnings: swearing, very mildly suggestive (if you squint), detailed descriptions of kiyoomi’s arms in compression sleeves so it’s not for the faint hearted

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

When you studied Marketing and Communications in university, you didn’t exactly anticipate that your future would include you managing a V League Division 1 sports team. But every day when you went into work, you thanked the gods above that this is where your career path had led you, because that meant you could ogle Sakusa Kiyoomi and his infamous compression sleeves all day.

Oftentimes you were certain Kiyoomi didn’t mean anything by them. For him, they were practical. They kept his arms taut and ready for the ball. They made his movements sharper. He received the ball better. He didn’t have to feel his bare skin on the dirty court. These were all reasons you had heard straight out of his mouth. When you heard him mention them so nonchalantly, it almost made you feel bad for the absolutely sinful- borderline deranged- thoughts you had in your head about the way those sleeves made his arms look.

You were well aware of the kind of thoughts Kiyoomi’s choice of athletic wear caused among his fans. To put it simply and bluntly, they went feral over it. There were whole Twitter accounts dedicated to just his arms, or his chest. And as someone who often managed social media profiles for some of the members, you got to see the most unhinged of these comments with your own two eyes. And you would be the first to (secretly) admit that you agreed with 90% of what was being said, because holy shit did those sleeves do something to you.

Most of the time during practice, you could feel your eyes drift back over to the man in question, wearing a black sports tee and those godforsaken sleeves, working up quite the set as they played set after set to prepare for their next game. As the hours passed, Kiyoomi would get more and more disheveled, curls becoming unruly enough that he would grab a towel, biceps flexing as he ran it over the nape of his neck and dipped into the collar of his shirt. Christ almighty.

You should’ve known that you would eventually get caught. But if it was anyone who would notice, you had expected it to be Meian or maybe Coach Foster. But the person who did bring it up to you happened to be the biggest nightmare in this scenario; Miya Atsumu.

“Ya should be a little less obvious ‘bout it.” He commented when he trudged over to the bench where you sat, grabbing a water bottle and beginning to chug. You tore your eyes from Kiyoomi who now had his back to you, the muscles under his shirt flexing with every movement. You raised an eyebrow at the blond, not yet correlating his words with your hidden obsession. He placed the bottle down and placed a hand on his hip, giving you a knowing smirk.

“A blind grandma could notice the way yer lookin’ at him.”

Your eyes widened and cheeks flamed when he nudged his head in Kiyoomi’s direction, and you knew you had been caught. You clenched your jaw hard.

“You say a single word-”

He threw his hands up as if in surrender, effectively silencing your threat in its tracks.

“I won’t, promise! But there is one thing…..”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. Of course, of fucking course he would blackmail you with this.

“What do you want?” You deadpanned, glaring at him and preparing for the worst.

Atsumu looked a bit affronted, as if the mere insinuation that he might want something was preposterous to him. You gave him another tired look, until he sighed and gave up, plopping down heavily on the bench next to you.

“A phone number. Ya know that cute girl who comes by once a month? From the Volleyball Association?”

“No.”

Atsumu’s mouth dropped like a child who just got slapped. “Hey c’mon! Ya didn’t even hear me out!”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a characteristic frontal headache begin to build, courtesy of Miya Atsumu. “I’m tired of setting you up with people, Tsumu! It won’t end well, as always-”

“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with his compression sleeves.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “I can get hundreds of those off the internet.”

“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with just his compression sleeves.”

That made you halt in your tracks. You searched Atsumu’s face for any form of mockery or lie, and you found none. Your eyebrows shot up when you realized he was being serious.

“In the locker room. I can get it for ya today.”

Oh my god. Instinctively, your eyes darted over to the man in question, who was talking to Hinata about something. It looked like volleyball tips since he had his arms before him in a receiving position, and Hinata was rapidly nodding to what he was saying.

“No.” You shook your head. “No, that’s wrong.”

“I’ll take a selfie with him, yeah? He will know there’s a photo. And I can send it in the groupchat.”

You look back at Atsumu, seriously contemplating his offer. He kept yapping, as per usual, thinking that the more he talked, the likelier it would be to convince you. And the bastard was right, it was working.

“No one else will bat an eye. We see each other in the lockers all the time. No big deal.”

You bit your lip in thought. The possibility of seeing Kiyoomi shirtless and only in compression sleeves had your pulse rising.

“And you just want her number in return?”

Atsumu nodded eagerly. You gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

“Send the picture. Then I will give you the number.”

His triumphant grin made it feel like he had already won. “Deal.”

That evening, when your phone pinged with a text notification, you nearly flew across the bed to grab it, opening the picture Atsumu sent in the groupchat with eager fingers and freezing as soon as you laid eyes on it.

Atsumu had held up his end of the bargain spectacularly.

He had taken the picture with Kiyoomi a little further in the background, so he could get the man’s full torso in it. He was facing slightly away from the camera, but his face was turned towards it, capturing the scowl between his eyebrows and the little pout of his mouth. He was gloriously shirtless, still a bit sweaty from practice, and he held his shirt in his hand, one arm flexed as he held it while the other was held carelessly by his side, compression sleeves hugging the cords of toned muscles just right.

There was another ping, pulling you out of your trance and making you realize just how dry your mouth had gotten. Atsumu had messaged you privately.

“My payment? ;)”

You rolled your eyes and sent him the number, immediately going back to the picture and starring it for future reference, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of your lip as you did so.

[narcissistshandler]

𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘, 𝗕𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧

and here we go again in more smuts I write in 40 minutes randomly overnight. the choso part in the trailer keeps popping up for me all over my social media, so that's for everyone who has this man as husband! top!amab! reader and bottom!choso below. this was written to be read as gn, so if anything is wrong please let me know!

Choso always made the cutest sounds during sex. He was a very domestic and simple man, most of the time he would ask you in a soft voice to turn off the lights before continuing what you were doing, (even though you two knew the darkness of the room did little to hide the flush in his face, his open mouth in an involuntary movement or how his cock twitched at the smallest of compliments). He usually liked looking at your face during sex and blushed like a virgin when you tried anything in daylight. And after one of the neighbors complained about the noise, Choso not only started to avoid them, he also started to have a habit that you hated:

He started trying to be as quiet as possible in bed.

You weren't happy about it. It was hard to actually hear any of the moans or whimpers your husband made when you fucked him exactly like he had wanted all day during which he tried to show you with the eyes - it was never a difficult task, considering you were always itching to have him under you, anytime.

What sounded like a snarl reached your ears, muffled by the pillow Choso was hugging to his face, your pillow.

Your fingers dug into his lean hips, ring sunk into his skin in a way that should hurt and thumbs pressing hard over the knobby bones you pulled him back against you with each thrust, so hard that every time your thighs and his ass met, the twinge of pain shot through your senses.

In the low light, his long hair blended into the darkness and your shadow fell over his torso. You two were completely naked, skin to skin, and even condom use had been discarded when you entered into a relationship.

You liked having him like this, with no barriers between you, raw and messy and wet. Choso liked it too, as much as he never said it out loud, you knew.

He also liked it when you came inside him. It left him feeling used and dirty and belonging to you. It was another one of those things that would be hard to get him to admit, but that was okay too.

"I am close." Your voice filled the stuffy air in the room.

All the windows were closed and the curtains drawn, both the front door and the bedroom door were locked, making it difficult for air to circulate. The idea of getting caught during sex by anyone was mortifying to Choso to the point where he didn't even like you using the scenario as dirty talk.

Big brother thing, you concluded, even if today only you and choso were home.

Choso's knuckles turned white where he gripped the pillow, so hard that the ripping sound rang out, the golden band of the wedding ring shining even in the dark on his finger. His hole tightened around you, helping the boiling sensation of pleasure just build in your stomach.

Your hips reacted on their own, shooting forward, back into your husband's relaxed, wet hole.

"Where should I come?" you questioned, wheezing occasionally interrupting your speech. "Should I take it off?"

It was a mere tease, as you knew how possessive Choso was when it came to your cum, he hated it being wasted, but in his delusional pleasure mind, that should have sounded more like an threat.

He seemed to mutter an irritated reply that was once again muffled by the pillow.

"I can't understand what you're talking, darling," you said as you started to back away, leaving Choso's warmth. You had to fight the immediate urge to just shove back in him and fuck him until you came.

The response was immediate, Choso's hole tightening so hard it looked like it wanted to suck your cock. He pushed the pillow away, allowing you to see the trace of tears on his face and the mess of saliva on his chin.

Beautiful.

"D-don't take it off," he pleaded sweetly. Maybe because he'd been fucked for so long his voice sounded loud, almost like a scream he didn't seem aware of. "In-inside... C-come in me." He repeated, sounding desperate: "Come in me."

And who were you to deny him anything?

Using your grip on his hips, you began to fuck him, eagerly, almost violently. Your cock eased in and out of him, being engulfed by the heat of his tight walls.

Choso's lips were trembling, his whole body was trembling - you noticed right away - and you wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him. But you forced yourself to just watch as his eyes rolled back, his arms hugging the pillow to his chest as the husky, sweet moans you loved most fell from his mouth.

Your nails pressed into his skin and you came, hard, hips swaying in erratic thrusts to enjoy the pleasure coursing through you. Your cock twitched and spurted inside him, marking his entrails with your belongings.

Choso gasped for air, body writhing on the sheets and you saw the exact moment he came all over his stomach and your pillow. Coming into him was enough to send him into his own orgasm.

Now you kissed him, grabbing the pillow between your chests and throwing it towards the floor. You swallowed each of his sighs; sweat and semen forming a mess between your bodies and before the memory of the inconvenient neighbor and the anxiety of being heard by strangers during sex returned, you rotated your hips in slow circles still inside him, extracting every reaction and every ounce of pleasure from him and gently led him on for a second round, then a third...

Then, you made Choso so loud that none of the neighbors had the nerve to come and complain the next day. Inflamed by it, after being fucked to the point he limped the next day and his throat got hoarse, he never tried to hide his moans from you ever again, even at the risk of being heard by his younger brothers.

[meowzfordayz]

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀 

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! 😭

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!” 

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!” 

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

…

Tengen starts running 

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?” 

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

[genshin-impact-unofficial]

Danced With You Once Upon A Dream 🌠

Headcannons of Genshin boys seeing you in a ball gown and asking you to dance.

Ft: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Childe, Thoma, Ayato, and Alhaitham

Tags: Fem!Reader, crushes everywhere, jealousy, fluff, PG, GOOD VIBES ONLY, i chose a lot of smug men please spare me, no beta we die like men Notes: I JUST REALLY WANTED TO MATCH PRETTY BOYS TO PRETTY DRESSES! SUE ME! (Another repost!)

Diluc

Diluc is a known hermit. After his father's death, it was a rare sight to see him at any large social event. He preferred to keep it that way, but tonight's banquet is an exception. The masked vigilante accepted the invitation for an opportunity to eavesdrop on a fatui officer in attendance. Unfortunately, his person of interest appeared to be a complete no-show. The whole night was already a total bust.

Perhaps if he left right then, he could still do a patrol around Mondstadt before dawn. It was the enjoyable option compared to being approached again by another person seeking his attention. Idle chit-chat was never something he enjoyed much anyway and he was in no mood to talk business.   

Diluc contemplated his exit strategy that would avoid being stopped by anyone. An eruption of chatter drew everyone's attention to the main doors. There was a late arrival being announced. It was nice timing, he would just need to slip out during the commotion. How odd for one guest to kick up this much of a fuss... Diluc's curious gaze followed up to the large entry doors and inevitably fixated onto the beautiful figure, onto you. 

His plans to leave vanished with each step you descended down the grand staircase. Your flowing dress moved in such an entrancing way that he could swear you plucked it straight out of fairy tale. Diluc has been so busy with the winery and his investigations... he couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to you. Perhaps he should stay a little longer, if only just to catch up at least.

The red haired man was utterly enchanted by your movements. It explained why he was drawn in like a magnet, moving as if under your spell. He strode smoothly through the crowd to meet you at the foot of the stairs. His hand extended to guide you down the last couple steps, down to earth, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When you finally glance up from your hands to meet Diluc's gaze, adoration is already clear across his features.

"Y/N" He greeted you, bowing to place a small peck on the back of your hand. "Its lovely to see you tonight." Diluc spoke slow and earnestly, as if channeling every ounce of his princely charm into that sentiment. You felt like butter melting into his warmth, becoming pliant in his hands. “May I?” Diluc gestured forward, asking if he could accompany you in. 

The presence of the elusive owner of Dawn Winery did little to quell the whispers and eyes on you. Now awoken from your dreamy haze, you became aware of just how much attention you've managed to garner. You looked yourself over. Had there been a stain that you missed? Were you not on theme? How embarrassing... Your panic was interrupted by Diluc's fond chuckle. It almost annoyed you how amused he seemed by your antics.

“There’s no need to worry. They’re staring because they can't bare to look away. You are simply captivating.” Diluc stated as if it were an obvious fact. “If you are still feeling nervous, how about a dance to get your mind off it?” 

Kaeya

Kaeya spent most of the ball like a fly on the wall, listening in on conversations here and there. To his dismay, there was nothing interesting happening tonight. The juciest thing he managed so far were the two Fatui delegates discussing their distaste of the liquor served. “Honestly! Can’t they provide anything stronger? It’s practically disrespect to serve-” A pause. “Hmm... well at least there’s plenty of eye candy to eat up.” The man changed topics in favor of discussing the newest arrival to his comrade.

From his vantage point, Kaeya discreetly surveyed the crowd. His sweep abruptly stopped when he spotted you in such an elegant gown. “My, my don’t you clean up well.” The captain chuckled quietly to himself. He smirked slyly down at you and thought of a couple ways to make you be the one to approach him.

His plans changed rapidly when he noticed how swarmed you were. You hadn’t even taken five steps before multiple men stopped you, a half circle was already beginning to form. Confusion and an awkward politeness were loud and clear on your features yet no one took the hint. 

The look of the situation bubbled up something in the pit of Kaeya's stomach. He would sooner cut off his silver tongue before ever calling it jealousy. It was accompanied by a feeling of annoyance. Do those men not have eyes? Couldn’t they see they were making you uncomfortable? They don’t even have the decency to let you greet your friends first before bombarding you.

He simply could not let this stand. As a knight, he is upheld to a code of chivalry after all. It was easy to weave his way through the other guests to get to you. “My dear Y/N, you made it!” Kaeya addressed you, loud enough to make a couple of the men turn to look. Without hesitation, he took the opening to wedge himself between the half turned bodies.

He made the maneuver look easy, like he had done this exact thing a million times over. The Calvary Caption smoothly took your hand in his and gazed into your eyes like there wasn’t a dozen people staring. He flash of a small smirk, with a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glint in his eye before, he continuing his theatrics.

“You look simply heavenly.” Kaeya said in a sickeningly sweet tone, playing it up slightly for listening ears. “Now that you’ve arrived, you can do me the honors of bestowing me your first dance of the night. You did promise it to me after all.” 

You caught on quickly, nodding in agreement. That's all it took for Kaeya to lead you out of the corner you were trapped in and into the rest of the festivities. Once you both were out of earshot, you quietly thanked him. 

“There’s no need, Y/N. Those men were being simply unmannerly.” He laughed, a smug look creeping back onto his face. “Although, it would also be quite rude to make a liar out of me. So how about that dance?”  

Zhongli

Zhongli was familiar to with the formal banquets held on the Pearl Gallery. He did not always attend, but when he felt the desire to people watch the consultant accepted the invitation. The harbor is a beautiful heart of Liyue and the its people are the blood that pumps through her veins. To the being who laid its foundation, Rex Lapis viewed it like art to see the continued flow of life unfold before him.

He participated as the role an average guest. Someone may strike up a conversation now and again, in response he would chat idly about nothing at all. The visitor would then move on to their next conversation and Zhongli was perfectly content sipping his drink and taking in the evolving atmosphere.

The next shift in energy accompanied your arrival and his ember eyes watched the scene change before him once again. The former archon was fascinated by the buzz that rippled outward from where you stood. When you approached, people excitedly began chatting, smiling, and laughing. Knowing you well, he could tell you were radiating delight effortlessly, even while just greeting other guests. He no longer observed the gathering as a whole, his gaze instead followed the intricate detailing leading up your bodice. It was entrancing to watch each graceful step while you made your way around the ship’s deck.

Zhongli contemplated the notion of approaching you. Doing so would actively shift the trajectory of the evening. Taking your time for himself disrupts the organic flow of art he admired just moments prior. Would that be fair to you? You, who was someone he respected and admired. You, who looked so divine that it demanded all of his attention in that very moment. You, who Morax would willingly give all of it to.

The answer to his dilemma came simply while watching your eyes meet. Zhongli no longer felt content with his self assigned role of bystander. He had a deep desire to partake. Thus, the stubborn rock uprooted himself. 

“Hello again Y/N, you look blindingly radiant tonight.” Zhongli approached you with a graceful bow The lightest kiss is placed upon the back of your hand like a whisper. Your glowing smile and warm greeting prompts yet another decision. “It would be heavenly if you allowed me your company tonight. Would you care for a dance?”

The old archon had already inserted himself into this occasion's flow, it would be foolish not enjoy it in full. 

Childe

Jealousy. Jealousy. Jealousy. You were his guest after all. 

Tartaglia invited you, along with a few others, to a ball thrown by the Snezhnayan embassy. You weren't EXACTLY asked to be his date. Heck, the redhead even emphasized that you were invited as a good friend. But nonetheless, an honored guest of a Fatui Harbinger should be assumed off-limits. It shouldn't matter how stunning you look. Those men lingering around you will just need to be reminded. Politely of course.... 

Childe insisted on your attendance, even going as far as offering to buy you any dress you wanted for the occasion. You were still unsure, since you were aware of how bad the Fatui's reputation had tanked in Liyue recently. During back and forth with him, you jokingly pointed at an outrageously expensive dress in a shop display. There is no way, even someone with money, would drop that much on such a frivolous dress. It was double your rent for archon’s sake. 

Inevitably, when the dress was delivered on your step, you had to sit down to keep from falling over. You begged him to return it. There’s no way you could accept such an outragous gift. HE WAS BEING UNREASONABLE PLEASE! Like always, Tartaglia only laughed at you and teased how great you'll look in it.

The redhead didn’t expect just how great that was.

Some last minute Fatui conflicts allowed you to arrive before him. The party was in full swing and lively as ever. Guests were having enthusiastic discussions sometimes in a tongue you didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t long before you were pulled into a conversation, and then another. 

You already had five drinks lined up waiting for you by the time Childe arrived to the event. The fiery exchanges died down and a few peeled off rub elbows with the harbinger. Unfortunately, you were not able to go greet your friend. Three men blocked your path, insisting you finish your drink so you could dance with them. Any declination was laughed at and brushed over.

“Ah, you must be hard of hearing. My lovely guest here doesn’t wish to dance with you.” The polite words held a chilling edge to them. The men turned to face the instigator with puffed chests and annoyed glares. The Eleventh Fatui Harbringer stood behind them, a malicious smile staring directly back at them. Blood drained from the frozen men's faces and one by one they excused themselves with their tails tucked between their legs. 

“Now this isn’t fair.” Tartaglia sighed, his features relaxing now that is attention was on you. “You weren’t supposed to look this amazing in that dress Y/N.” He teased while also taking your hand and guiding you into a spin. “I may have to buy you a few more, so that I can see you like this more often.” You relaxed when you heard his playful tone return. You tell him to quit it while lightly slapping his shoulder. “Hm? I’ll stop if you agree to dance with me. How about it beautiful?”

Thoma

Thoma knew his way around a party. With so many connections to maintain, he fluttered from guest to guest like the social butterfly he was. When the Kamisatos throw a banquet, he’s usually busy with everything that goes on behind of the scenes. As a show of appreciation, Thoma was told to simply enjoy himself tonight. He was sure to take advantage of such an opportunity. The blond even invited you. Since he had no obligations, he could be the one showing you a good time for once. 

It was comical how obvious his double-take was when you arrive. The boy's green eyes sparkled and his mouth hung slightly ajar in awe. He catches himself, remembering his manners. Surely, it couldn't be proper to gawk at your friend so openly. 

Some habits die hard. The Kamisato Clan’s resident housekeeper is the first to greet you and guide you in. “Y/N you look....! Hah, I don't even know how to describe how beautiful you look. I'm utterly speechless." Thoma's charming smile was blinding when he looked at you. For someone rendered speechless, he didn't stop there. "That dress is perfect on you and the color just make your eyes... wow.”

You are showered in compliments. How he is doing it with a straight face? Thoma tone was so earnest and genuinely delighted to behold you, but each word made your face burn in embarrassment. You had to insist that he to stop to prevent your incoming heart attack.

“Ah, sorry Y/N. I must have gotten carried away.” He chuckled, only then finally showing an inkling of bashfulness. “Here, allow me to show you around, I have some people I’d love you to meet.” 

Thoma offered his arm and guided you around the festivities, while also subtly showing you off to everyone and anyone. Like two peas in a pod, you laughed and talked while you mingled around. Anyone who didn’t know better would think you were a fresh couple struck with puppy love. But in Thoma's oblivious mind, he saw himself as only your attendant for the evening. He was simply there to ensure you’re a great time. He was happy with this.

The blond noticed your eyes drift over to the dance floor. It's then that he toed a line of where a servant should stay. It would be selfish for him to take you from the party and be the one to dance the night away with you. Sure, he wanted to..... he really wanted to. Would that be ok? Well... what was life without risks? If this was not proper, he'd happily accept whatever consequences.

“Y/N, would you like to dance with me? It would hands down make me the luckiest guy here.”

Ayato

Ayato was bored of the banquet too soon after it begun. As Yashiro Commissioner, he hardly had a moment of peace. There was a multitude of important people in attendance and out of courtesy he exchanged pleasantries and discussed light politics. His lines were well rehearsed, polite and non-confrontational on any one matter. 

 He didn’t know you were on the guest list until your arrival. It didn't go unnoticed how you dress style and color pallet correlated perfectly with the Kamisato Clan's traditional attire. He deduced that Ayaka must of had a hand in both of those happenstances.

As if confirming Ayato's suspicions, Ayaka was the first to greet you. He watched the two of you excitedly talk amongst yourselves. She gestured toward your dress with a not-so-subtle two thumbs up from her. There was a growing chatter amongst the the guests. In less than five minutes you managed to become the center of talk. Not just anyone was warranted to wear Kamisato colors to their events, and so extravagantly at that too. Even with Ayaka’s clear public approval, people will imagine drama where there is none. 

Ayato had to admit, he couldn't tare his eyes from you. The clan head he was speaking to, continued going on and on about business dealings. Meanwhile in the commissioner's head, he began to map out how to speed run through the rest of the interactions he was obligated to have tonight. If he played his cards just right, he may have a moment to chat with you. If time allowed, he may even be able to squeeze in a single dance.

 Ayaka inevitably was pulled away to attend to her other duties, but she encouraged you to feel free to mingle and have fun. Once she left, the eyes on you and the quiet murmurs became much more apparent. 

Ayato noticed your previous excitement shift into anxiety. Left like this, you would be eaten alive by these ruthless socialites. You might even leave before he had a chance to make his way to you. This definitely won’t do. Ayato politely excused himself from the mind numbing pleasantries and briskly made his way across the banquet hall. Others who approached him received a similar kind but firm dismissal.

“These kinds of people always find something to gossip about, trust me.” You jumped, not expecting the sudden company. Least of all, you weren't expecting the head of the Kamisatio Clan to be the one to approach you. You look around at all the prying eyes and quickly compose yourself. You deeply bow to the man in front of you and state your name and status as a formal greeting. It felt strange since you were both so well acquainted as good friends. It was better to be safe than sorry in your opinion. You waited to be greeted back in a similar manner so that you could be released from your bow.... but there was only silence.

“Hah! There’s no need for that Y/N. You shouldn't feel the need to speak so formally to me for their sake.” Ayato's hand was slightly covering his mouth to stifle a few stray chuckles. You stood up properly and frowned at your friend in more embarrassment. Ayato sighed, amused, and leaned down to meet your eye level. “Really, there's no need for that. Besides, with how exquisite you look tonight, I should be the one honored.” The commissioner took a knee and placed a princely kiss upon your knuckles. Voices began to erupt around you two.

“Hm... Since everyone is going to be gossiping anyway, how about we give them something to talk about?” Ayato asked smoothly, his hand already leading you toward dance floor by the small of your back. 

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was only there because he was FORMALLY WARNED that he would be reprimanded if he missed another mandatory Akademiya event. 

The scribe was the definition of a party pooper. He sat in the corner with the best lighting and cracked open the book he had brought along. (This is the equivalent to being forced to go to an office Christmas party for this guy.) Any attempts to talk to him were either ignored or efficiently rudely turned away. 

The book became front once he finished it twice over. Alhaitham knew he should have brought a spare. To pass the time, he turned off his noise cancelling headphones and waited. People tended to say more when they thought you weren't listening. To his dismay... some conversations were just not worth listening to. The scribe became so bored he actually began his third re-read at some point. 

“Is it even allowed to wear something so....... adverse to an Akedemiya function? That has to be some sort of dress code violation.” Two scholars whispered to one another just within earshot. Ah, finally something interesting. 

Alhaitham spared a discreet glance from behind his book to the controversy of the hour. It was you... how unexpected. And how you were dressed, also unexpected. A quick glace had become more akin to appreciation. You stood defiantly confident in your body conforming emerald gown, meanwhile scholars were bending over backwards to avoid getting close at all costs. As if being associated with you would also get them a violation too.

The scribe shut his book since he had become interested enough in the situation to give his full attention. He had an idea what this was all about but this was definitely not the outcome he would have bet on. 

You had mentioned your annoyance with the Akedemiya’s dress code to him. You even submitted a few applications for an appeal. A couple even got approved through him before ultimately being rejected by the grand sage. It made no sense! Why were you being dress code on the exact shade of green you wore? Or that your attire had to be floor length? For archon’s sake you were even told your comfortable shoes were too dirty to be acceptable. And you definitely showed them. Alhaitham didn't bother hiding the way he eyed you over. And recalling the rules and regulation.... there’s technically nothing wrong with your outfit. Although, you were guaranteed to get an earful tomorrow by the sages. He decided with that alone that congratulations were in order.

“I must say, this a wonderfully scandalous way to prove your point.” Alhaitham mused while approaching you. You rolled your eyes at his comment and both relief and stress washed over your person. While thankful for some sort of company tonight, your antisocial colleague was the last person you expected to run into here. You greeted him stiffly while preparing yourself for the endless teasing sure to follow. Alhaitham had just enough respect for your efforts to hold his tongue for now. He instead held out his hand in an invitation, the hint of a smirk emerging across his features.

“You know, dancing is technically only 'frowned upon' at these kind of events. Care to piss off a few more old men?”

You guys were about to be in so much trouble...

<A/N: Another repost from my old blog!!! I love this one! The only things I changes were made for the better I think. I really gotta stop writing these at like 3Am and calling it a day. SOME OF THESE WERE SO CONFUSING BEFORE EDITING IT. Anyway thanks for the follows and likes I'mma keep on trucking these out. This was was particularly long so the rest should be faster. "should">

[lynnlovesthestars]

Hi! I’m new to your blog and have been loving all of your works!

If you’re comfortable with it, I was wondering how you think Astarion would react/feel about a virgin tav/reader who went through SA when they were younger, and wish to wait until they are both completely ready and comfortable with being intimate?

Hii, I can definitely do it, though i will merge it with another ask I received- asking to write hcs about Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.

I will say, making it with the hc has been a little easier on me, usually when i write about SA i spend an insane amount of time making sure i'm comfortable and you (readers) are as well, and i hesitate a lot before publishing it *(queue up scars and blood, that I wrote on an impulse after a nightmare, and it took me a solid week before publishing it)*

ANYWAYS.

ofc I hope this will be of comfort to you, and it won't trigger you.. sometimes all we want is to find solace into our favourite characters, so i wish tonight this will in a way comfort you...

and if anyone needs to vent, or talk, feel free to hit up my dm's, they are a safe space for anyone and i'll always offer up comfort.. we don't need to struggle alone, and sometimes being heard is what we need to make a new step forward<3

As always, my little stars, excercise kindness! we don't know who's gonna pass by this, and we don't know how hard it can be for them.

This being said, I hope you'll like it!

Headcanon: Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.

Pairing: Astarion x reader. Warnings: mentions of past trauma and SA. wc: 1.7k

-He starts suspecting something about it around the time of the tiefling party. He had offered to sneak out while everyone was asleep to "enjoy yourselves", but you refused right away. He definitely picked up some involuntary movement you did that told him there was more to the "I'm not ready". You probably flinched or jerked away, usually it would go unnoticed, but Astarion could recognize the subtle harshness hidden behind your reaction.

-He doesn't want to pry into it, as much as he needed to know as much as possible about you- he says for the sake of his undead skin- he wasn't entirely confident you trusted him enough to share your past. Also he wasn't sure he could handle someone confiding in him, but he would never admit it. At the end of the day, all he knew about social interaction were faint memories of his magistrate life, or means to survival. He simply wasn't sure he could have the empathy to deal with someone else's emotions, both in good and in bad.

-When you meet the gur, and you start peering into his past, he can't hide the very obvious rock in the shoe, Cazador and his spawn life, and it is because of the gur that you actually open up to him. When he starts going deeper and deeper into Cazador's orders to him and his repulsion towards sex, you do feel like you can share something so intimate, that's been heavy on you, well since it happened. 

-The first time you mention it though, you are very blunt.

-"And honestly I don't know anything else besides disgust for it" He'd admit as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Astarion" You'd start, you wanted to hold his hand to comfort him, cause that kind of pain you knew. "I understand how you feel though. If you need—" He cut you short, anger was bubbling quickly in his stomach. You swore his face almost reddened in anger as he raised his voice.

"No, you don't" He was one sound shirt from hissing at you. "You cannot understand what it feels like" He'd sneer at you. "No one can understand what it feels like to be stripped of your bodily autonomy". In a way the harshness in his voice was like a slap to your face, cause you did in fact know. From the other, you didn't expect your brain to beeline directly towards that sealed drawer in your brain where you tried to hide the haunting memory. 

“I went through it myself, you shithead” You got up, uncaring of whatever reaction he could have in that moment, and you just left.

-He was taken aback, on different levels, both because of your sudden shift in mood, because of the blunt reveal, and deep down because he was sorry, though again he’d never admit it out loud.

-You ignored him for the rest of the day, avoiding his stare and disappearing in your tent right after you were done setting camp, and that unsettled him so much that he was weighing the possibility of apologizing cause, of course, he didn’t know.

-You skipped dinner, and even when everyone else was asleep, you didn’t come out from your tent to take your usual nightly walk. The pang of guilt was becoming more like a stab as he saw the light in your tent still burning, and the faint shadow of you moving around restless.

-He prepared a peace offering, a bowl of the leftover stew, as he had to muster the guts to apologize. 

-”Sorry, I was an asshole earlier, I brought you food” He blurted out right after he knocked on the wooden support of the tent, and he was surprised when you still let him in.

-Initially it was awkward, cause you were eating and not saying anything, but after a while he mustered up the courage to offer his shoulder to you. “If you even wish to talk” He’d say.

-You told him a bit of what happened, without going too much into detail, since you were still shaken from the memories that resurfaced.

-Since then he started to learn your boundaries: how to catch your attention without startling you, what were triggering topics for you, how you liked physical touch, and how it triggered you as well.

-In a way he becomes very protective of you, especially if you open up more often about your trauma, and you can see it.

-He made sure everyone respected your boundaries, whether it was Gale with his weave thing pulling you too close, or a stranger breathing on your neck, he was always ready to remind them of their place. 

-”Don’t you see our dear captain doesn't want to be that close?!” “Keep your hands to yourself, they don't like being grabbed by the wrists” “Get away from her, before I stab you” 

-He noticed how you always double checked the perimeter of the camp before the sun would set, and before getting in your tent you’d always look around in the distance, trying to spot if something was out of place. So he joined you in your routine, helping you check around and make sure you were ready in case anything could have happened.

-As you get closer, and you both open up more to each other, he even suggests he moves his tent closer to yours. “I can keep an eye around” Was his explanation, when he first brought it up. 

-And it helped so much with your sleep, you felt a little safer.

-If you didn’t feel safe at night, he’d suggest putting your tents together into one. Maybe it was a way to keep you closer, or he needed reassurance, but he made sure you knew you could place your bedroll anywhere as far or as close to him as you liked.

-Eventually as your bond would deepen and deepen, and you’d grow fond of each other, you found yourselves rediscovering your touch together. It started with your fingers tapping on his arm as you were walking, or a strand of your hair being pulled behind your ear. Some nights you’d sit close in your tent, and would hold hands, caress each other’s cheeks, and slowly even reach out for a kiss or two.

-It was a slow process, where you really got to know each other like no one else ever did. You could read each other like a book, yet you never shied away from asking each other for consent for anything.

-”Can I hold your hand” “Can I kiss your cheek” “Can I rest my head on your chest”

-The thing you both struggled with the most, was falling asleep holding each other. You’d panic very quickly when you would feel your chest becoming tighter. He’d move away as quickly as possible, and give you the space you needed.

-When he confesses he has been falling for you, it’s time to approach the very delicate topic of sex. You opened up about the fact that you wanted to wait ‘till you were ready, and he agreed without hesitation. Of course because he understood where you came from, he never asked for any help either, if he’d feel like he needed some release, he’d disappear for a bit and deal with it himself, without making you feel like a burden.

“I just want to make sure we are on the same page on this” You’d say as you crossed your arms, almost as if you wanted to fold yourself in and away. “If you want to have sex, I can’t right now” You’d start saying, but stop on your tracks for a second. “Wait, not that I can’t. I don’t want to have sex at the moment” You’d correct yourself, confident in your statement, he wasn’t even thinking about it, though he respected completely.

“I get it, and it’s okay my love” He’d say, patting your shoulder, and wondering whether he wanted to hold your hand or kiss it, he wanted to let you know he truly understood. “I don’t want to either” He smiled, and in that moment it was like both you two finally breathed. You’d reach for his hand to hold it in yours.

“It’s not because of you though” You wanted to explain to him, you were so close it was something you were ready to share, especially since you were slowly walking towards a different level of intimacy together, he had to know. “I want to do it when we are both ready” 

“I understand, my sweet, there’s no need for explanations” He’d smile again, one of his fangs slightly poked out against his lip. “You said you don’t want sex yet, so it’s no” 

“I’m a virgin” You’d blurt out, and that was something he didn’t entirely expect.

“Oh” He’d say at first, but as he noticed your cheeks slowly warming up, he pulled you closer to him, his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, I don’t care about it” He’d exhale. “As long as it’s you, I don’t care about anything” 

-When you reach Baldur’s Gate and finally you settle in the elfsong tavern, you made sure you always had a corner of time dedicated to helping each other relearn touch. 

-You'd lay next to each other in different levels of nakedness depending on how you felt at the moment, and you'd spend your time tracing each other's features. Whenever you'd feel comfortable enough to venture into a new thing, he'd ask for permission. 

-"Would you feel comfortable if I touched your hips?" "Can I trace your scars with my fingers?” “May I pull you closer?”

-You didn't fight time, you didn't rush towards sex. It came slowly and it was a process full of ups and downs. Some attempts ended up with you both sobbing, too overwhelmed. Other's ended up with panic attacks. Eventually though, after a lot of work together, you reached a point where you'd be able to make love.

-it was a very soft moment between you two. It involved a lot of comforting, kisses and patience, but it was something so profound, it wasn't only about shared pleasure, but it was about connecting your bodies and your souls. In a way it was like a wedding for you two it was the peak of trust you could have with each other. 

-He'd whisper so many times how proud he was of you, how much he loved you, and how glad he was that you were the one that would spend their life with him.

-Tears eventually arrived, they were the tears of two souls that finally had reclaimed a bit of their freedom. It was the cries of someone that was finally healing. 

[venusbby]

being rin's roommate had its pros and cons.

he was always quiet, minding his own business. he never really brought any trouble (except the few times he came home with an injury and expected you to let him deal with it himself) and that's what made living with him easier.

but sometimes, just sometimes, it feels like he's been forced to live with you.

you wouldn't say you were overly social or a person who could be friends with anyone they like, but god, every time you talked, rin acted like you were the most uninteresting person ever. when clearly, you were the most chill person on the planet.

exaggeration, yes. but it's not wrong to say that you weren't a loud person. you preferred silence just as much as he did. so why did he look like he's living with a totally different person?

that blank expression, his lips pressed in a straight line and those undeniably pretty lashes of his- as much as you had grown to like the look he always gave you, it was so damn frustrating. always the same stupid look, the look which made your stomach flip even though he didn't smile or show amusement.

you never knew what was going on his head.

eventually, he noticed the effort you put in to be his friend (when all you did was stare at him every time he was doing something, as if to remind him, "stop ignoring me!!! stop. ignoring. me.") and your 'friendship' was finally happening. (he felt a little scared.)

it was all going quite nicely, even though rin was still not that talkative. you knew he was just.. like that. you wouldn't expect him to change his ways. all you wanted was to help him get as comfortable as you were in this apartment, and it definitely worked.

after weeks and weeks of progress, it finally came to a point where rin was so comfortable that he even asked you to join his horror movie marathon.

and it was a big mistake, he realized, when you stood in the doorway of his bedroom with a sheepish look on your face.

"what do you want."

rin's irritated voice made you huff. he was already under his covers, but hadn't slept even though it had been almost an hour after the last movie. you felt incredibly jealous of how warm he must be, shuddering and entering his room without saying a word. a new level of comfortable.

oh, how much you loved his expressions- like how was staring at you like you were a fly that wouldn't leave him alone.

"shut up," you hushed, lifting the covers and climbing into his bed, cutting him off just as he was about to complain, "and move."

now, you laid next to your roommate who had started to consider pushing you off the bed. "this is fucking ridiculous. what the- what are you doing?" he hissed, watching you shift closer and pull the covers over yourself.

you sighed, ignoring him. "that last movie was.. something."

he groaned, staring at the ceiling just like you, avoiding the way your sides touched. "you insisted on watching it all the way, not me."

"yeah, but then i kept seeing that fucking old lady from the movie in the corner of my room. so, now im here."

"we are never doing this again. you hear me?"

"whatever, just let me sleep here tonight. it's 2 AM already, i'll be out of your room by 6."

rin cursed under his breath, turning quickly so that his back was facing you. this bed wasn't even made for two people. he closed his eyes, hoping to drift off as soon as possible so that he could just forget that you were in the same bed as him. there was no way he would let you notice the reason for his frantic movements.

his peace lasted for mere seconds before it was interrupted by the sound of shuffling and the mattress slightly sinking near his side when you wrapped your arm around him.

his eyes shot open and he stilled, hearing you softly apologize, your voice closer to his ear this time.

"i have a habit, sorry."

rin was losing his mind and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to exist tomorrow.

"you're fine." he rushed his words faster than anything, breathing out when you shifted even closer with what sounded like a silent laugh. "just go to sleep, fuck's sake."

there were no more horror movie nights after this, that's for sure. but now rin's got a bigger problem and that is dealing with these stupid feelings he has for you.

he really was losing his mind.

[decolonize-the-left]

Is anyone else just completely disillusioned? Done?

I could not think any less of people still talking about celebrities or how their biggest issues are not having a Starbucks cup that's $50

Like why are we as a collective letting people like that run the lives of everyone on the planet? A planet rife with unnecessary conflict and greed? People who can't be bothered to just Not go to chick-fil-a?

Why are people who clearly value profit over humanity in charge of humanity, ykwim? How the fuck did that become a majority opinion?

I drive thru my nuclear town, I go to our community events, our local small businesses, I try to support my community in ways I can everyday. But I can't help but notice that So Many of the people who do that alongside me, don't show up to protest for the rights of the people they claim to support.

Its all so incredibly shallow and one dimensional and obviously disingenuous and why the fuck are the rest of STILL begging for the ability to make changes within the framework they built?

Why are we still making educational posts for them and trying to make them understand when the first thing we are taught about reaching understand is that you must first be willing to listen and they refuse.

The ruling classes never listened. Never, ever have they granted anyone any oppressed group rights that they asked for without the group needing to fight for it. And it's always after generations of oppression.

I'm fucking tired of being nice and pretending the laws they made up matter and like their socially constructed bureaucracy is the only way to make change to be quite fucking honest.

They're LUCKY we use it EVER and now they don't even fucking listen to our voicemails?

The only things stopping me from taking what's mine are disabilities and I'm Dying to know what everyone else's excuses are.

Or is that?

Are we all physically too incapable? Is every single able bodied person actually a liberal fascist?

Asking for the disabled Turtle Mountain Ojibwe person typing this who's life literally depends on y'all caring enough about other people to make life anything but a list of systematic circumstances I'll suffer from until I eventually die early of an illness I can't afford medical aids for and which are not provided for me either.

And if you're able bodied and you feel the same... Start working outside that framework and stop asking so nicely. Stop giving a shit if you don't have the support of the oppressors and their liberal foot soldiers.

Stop worrying about what CNN is gonna say about you because I promise that the people who matter and Understand you will be inspired to follow in your foot steps and supportive.

Get active in your co-ops, mutual aid groups, and consider training like you're black bloc.

Learn what direct action is and how to do it and start doing it. Just reading theory era is over.

More of this

less whatever the level of cognitive dissonance this is

Imagine saying 'i voted so I did everything I could' like the suffragettes didn't have an arson and bombing campaign because the people who Could vote were people benefitted from their systemic silence and thus did almost Nothing to help them get voting rights and they Refused to let oppressor laziness be their obstacle.

Yeah, they don't teach you that in Voting Matters School the suffragettes were bombing the UK just a year or two before they got their rights do they?

The only language oppressors will listen to is their own.

And I'm Tired of pretending otherwise because that delusion is what makes the privileged feel like they don't have to do anything but vote and makes them feel they're justified to criticize those of us that fight back through other avenues.

And maybe if we had politicians that gave a shit about any of us then those votes and movements and public sentiment would have a bigger sway in government, but they don't.

They don't fucking care.

Why are we still giving them power over any of us and letting them tell us what to do and demonize us when they use that power allowed to kill us and bury us in unmarked graves in some field in Mississippi? And make everything so expensive that the richest citizens on earth struggle to pay their bills?

Why can a government only "condemn" a state agent's right to shoot an unarmed protester 57 times, but they can bypass Congress to send Israel billions upon billions worth of weapons?

I'm tired of pretending this country is anything but a front for White Supremacists when every liberal I see is trying to gaslight everyone into thinking genocide is acceptable.

Shut the fuck up and get out of my equality tags, fascist.

[nataliasquote]

Ghost Of You | n romanoff

Summary: learning to move on after Natasha’s sacrifice is the hardest thing in the world

Warnings: mentions of grief, loss, Natasha’s death

wc: 3.2k

note: this is an old fic I wrote ages ago, but I used to love it. I’ve given you enough fluff now anyway… also inspired by the song ‘Ghost of You’ by 5SOS.

- ⧗ -

Four months.

It'd been four months since she died.

Four months without Natasha.

And Y/n keep telling everyone she was fine, but there was a part of her that kept saying that her Natasha wasn’t really gone.

And it's the irrational part of her brain.

But she missed that redhead more than anyone knew.

Words couldn’t begin explain how much she missed her.

It was painful. It felt as though the world had come crashing down, plunging everything into total darkness. And when there was light, colour ceased to exist. Because what was a life without a purpose or reason to live?

Her sun. Gone.

Her home. Gone

Nothing left except harsh reminders of what could have been. There was no future anymore. Y/n spent her days in the past, tangled in memories that were wearing with age. A distorted version of her reality that became harder to grasp with every day that slipped by. The memories were slipping through her fingers, no matter how hard she tried.

Yelena was left to pick up the pieces her sister had left behind. A crumbled widow, her whole life a subject of loss, yet somehow she remained an iron fortress throughout it all. Y/n was family, something Yelena didn’t have much of, or knew much about, but she would be damned if anything happened to her now. She wasn’t sure she could handle another loss.

Y/n had taken residence in her spare room, the barren walls now burdened with grief. It settled across the floor like an unsettling blanket, smothering all who dared to step foot over the threshold.

But Yelena soldiered on. It was down to her to pull Y/n out of the pits she had crawled into in her mind, and today no different. The door creaked from lack of use, the room’s darkness only broken up by the light spilling around the old curtains. A body lay curled up in bed, but the blonde knew she was not asleep.

Against her instincts, Yelena made sure her boots were loud on the exposed floorboards, alerting the jumpy woman of her presence. She crouched slowly, a hand reaching out to land on Y/n’s knee softly.

"You ok?" She asked, receiving no movement or change of expression. Y/n’s eyes were heavy, but not with lack of sleep. This tiredness extended further than that; a tiredness of life. “Y/n, it’s me.”

A mumble came as a reply, which Yelena took as a positive. Some days received absolutely no recognition, so a sound or nod was progress.

“Any idea of what you want to do today?” She probed again, moving over to the curtains to draw them back slightly. Y/n winced at the light, another good sign. The outside air was cool and a welcome refreshment as the Russian pushed the rusty window open a fraction.

“Bed and sleep,” came the reply. A possible plan, yes, but not exactly what Yelena was thinking.

“How about we go somewhere today?” Y/n didn’t look convinced. “Natasha would want you to, you know that.”

“Don’t say her name!” Y/n cried, her voice breaking from lack of use and raw emotion. She refused to mention Natasha anymore, too afraid of what was lying just below the surface if she did.

But something had switched in Yelena overnight, and she turned around quickly. “She was my sister. I have every right to say her name Y/n.” That was clearly the wrong thing to say, but what did she know? Yelena had barely been out of the Red Room for two years. Social cues weren’t a strong suit. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just know she wouldn’t want you moping around grieving her like this. She would want you to go out and live your life. See the world.”

"How can I see the world when she was my world." Y/n whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking into her pillow. "I loved her but never got to show her properly. There is so much more I could have done for her. If I'd just had more time." Yelena crouched down and helped her sit up, offering a tissue to clean herself up a bit.

"I have a suggestion for you. I was talking to Wanda yesterday and we think it might be a good idea if you go back there."

Y/n looked up at her with red and puffy eyes. “Back where?”

“Back home, Y/n. The apartment that you and Natasha shared. You’ve still got lots of your stuff there and I’m sure there’s some things of hers you want.”

Y/n had stopped listening at the word ‘home’. Home wasn’t a place, it never had been. It was a feeling. A person. Y/n would never be able to go home anymore. An empty apartment ridden with memories wasn’t somewhere she wanted to be. Not without Natasha to breathe life into those four walls. Without her it was just dark. Lifeless.

Just like how she felt right now.

Yet her response was surprising. An “ok” tumbled past her lips before she could even register what she was saying, taking both her and Yelena by surprise. She leaned against the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest, staring at a dark spot on the duvet cover.

“Ok? I’ll be there the whole time, don’t worry. How about I give you some time to get ready and I’ll meet you out by the truck?” Y/n nodded, her eyes not moving, and Yelena took that as her cue to leave.

A shower felt like too much work, so Y/n dragged her hair into a ponytail and let it hang limply, too exhausted to try and do anything with it. The yellowing light in the bathroom only emphasised her dark circles and she eyed her make up bag that sat balanced on the edge of the sink.

Concealer barely helped, as did mascara, but Y/n tried all the same, almost willing herself to look better. If Natasha saw her in this state she would have crumbled, but she wasn’t there so Y/n couldn’t find it within her to care.

Placing her mascara back in the bag, her fingertips brushed over a familiar tube. She pulled it out and stared at it carefully, the writing old and faded on the packaging. But there was no mistaking Natasha’s favourite red lipstick. She refused to use any other shade and it always looked so vibrant against her pale skin. But looking at it now, it just looked so dull.

Y/n pressed her lips to it gently and slipped it into her pocket, where it nestled alongside a folded photograph and a promise ring.

Natasha’s promise ring. The one she used to wear alongside her wedding ring. The wedding ring that matched the one currently strung around her neck, too obnoxious to stay on her finger now.

Their key to everlasting happiness.

But what good was a key on its own? Useless without its matching component, a harsh reminder of what could have been but never will be.

Yelena was sat in the back seat of the truck with Fanny, giving the Akita belly rubs which he clearly loved. She looked up at Y/n and smiled, climbing through to settle into the drivers seat. “Fanny doesn’t know the meaning of stay yet, so I’ll bring him along. But he won’t come inside.”

Y/n nodded, and placed her elbow on the window edge, her cheek falling into her palm. The gentle hum of the engine combined with the smoothness of the road pulled her back into her head, memories swirling around but never fully making themselves known. Y/n was in the muddy middle ground, somewhere between numbness and a breakdown.

After an hour the car came to a stop. She knew this parking lot. Knew which space Nat always kept her bike in. She was always so particular.

Holding the key tightly in her fist, Y/n ascended the metal stairs, ignoring the way the rough edges of the key dug into her skin and left an imprint. She knew how to wiggle it into the lock just enough to get it to turn, muscle memory taking over.

As she opened the door, the living room was dark. A light layer of dust covered all the surfaces from the lack of use, and small slits of lights peaked through the closed curtains. There were books piled on the table and a couple of old beer bottles stranded on the floor. Y/n looked around in a daze, completely absorbed by the change of atmosphere. This place used to be so full of life. But now it was dull and barren.

Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes glanced to the floor. By the door, like they'd just been taken off, was Nat's pair of old converse. They were once black, but now sported a dark grey colour, having been worn so often. She wore them everywhere when she wasn't working.

Y/n bent down and picked them up, looping the laces over her fingers so she could easily carry them with her. The kitchen door was open, so she carried on walking, almost in a trance. Yelena hadn’t entered yet, wanting to give her some privacy in her old home.

The kitchen was brighter as the blinds were open, and everything was just as they had left it. A pile of clean dishes on the rack, just waiting to be put away. Nat's collection of weird keychains that she collected from every place she visited. A pile of hair ties and bobby pins that always disappeared. But most importantly, the fridge.

It was used more like their main photo album. Photos covered the silver metal, miscellaneous magnets holding photos of the couple onto it. There was a picture of Nat kissing Y/n on the beach, the first date we ever went on as an official couple. Even in the one captured moment, you could see how tender Natasha was, cupping Y/n’a face with her rough palms like she was a priceless jewel. Looking at it, she could still feel her touch.

There were a few candid ones from their trip to Europe and even some from their wedding day. But the one in the middle made her heart ache.

Nat laying on a picnic blanket in the park, her hair pulled back in a half up messy braid. She was lying on her stomach with a book open out in front of her, legs bent up behind her with those damn converse on her feet. She had the biggest smile on her face and she was laughing into the camera. Y/n remembered that day so vividly and she started to cry. She could never feel that way again, so happy, so relaxed.

"Damn it!” She yelled, slamming her hand onto the counter and taking a shaky breath in.

"Y/N?" a voice questioned, breaking her out of her mini outburst. Y/n quickly turned around to find the source of the voice, which was coming from the door way. The shoes fell out of her hand as she layed eyes upon the woman stood in the doorway.

Red hair was the first thing Y/n noticed.

Arms wide. A big smile on her face.

Not wasting any time, she ran into her open arms and felt herself being picked up, bodies spinning around like they always used to do. Both women were both giggling and smiling at each other, tears running down their faces.

"Oh my god you're actually here! I thought you left me" Y/n cried, grabbing onto Natasha’s face and planting kisses everywhere. Her nose, cheeks, jaw, everywhere she had missed being able to feel beneath her fingertips suddenly felt so real and she could sense the weight being lifted off her chest. It just felt right.

"I would never leave you baby." Natasha said, before their lips met in a bruising kiss.

"I knew you wouldn't. I knew you'd come back for me!" Y/n couldn’t help but laugh against her lips, the worry and sadness leaving her body, making her lighter. There were truly no words to describe it, but feeling Natasha’s lips on hers and her green eyes bringing so much warmth and safety into her body, Y/n never wanted to leave again.

Music started playing softly and Nat looked at the girl in her arms. "Can I have this dance, my beautiful wife?" She wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, who placed hers loosely around her neck as they started to sway. She didn't know where the music was coming from, but she didn't care. All thst was in her brain was the fact that she was here with Natasha. Finally.

They danced to the music, waltzing around the kitchen, eyes fixated on each other. Y/n felt as giddy as she did when they shared their first kiss, her hands feeling the way Natasha’s hair was so soft as it brushed her fingertips. The way her hands felt on her body gave Y/n a sense of relief and she sighed, resting her head on Natasha’s shoulder. She leaned her head on top of her wife’s and wrapped her arms tighter around her waist, still swaying to the beat. They fit together so perfectly, like a key in a lock.

"I've missed this." Y/n muttered into Natasha’s neck who hummed in agreement.

"Me too" she husked. God, that voice. She’d missed that too.

As the song picked up, Nat released Y/n from her arms and spun her around, twirling her around the floor like a ballerina. The redhead scooped her up in her arms and spun around, their laughter filling the once empty room. Y/n was taller than Natasha when Nat picked her up, so she gazed down at her and grinned, the same look adorning both of their faces. Love. Admiration. Relief.

As Natasha slowly lowered Y/n to the ground, they met each other with another kiss. The song slowly faded away in the background and they gradually stopped moving, but stayed in each other's arms.

"I see you found my converse?" Natasha pointed out, and Y/n turned around to see where she was looking.

"Oh yeah. I picked them up because I didn't know you were here." She couldn’t help but blush.

Natasha bent down and picked them up, handing them back over with a soft look in her eyes. "You keep them. They look better on you anyway." She said, flashing her signature smile.

"Are you sure?" Y/n asked, her brows creasing in the middle. “These were your favourite shoes!"

"I can always get some more if I need them."

Y/n looped the laces around her fingers once more and pulled Nat into another hug, just breathing in her scent. There was no perfume to distract her, just purely Natasha. Tears started rolling down her cheeks as the familiar scent she knew and loved filled her nose. The smell of home.

They finally pulled away and Natasha took a couple of steps back, leaning on the door frame as she had done previously.

"You know I love you Y/N. I always have and I always will. Don't you ever forget that." She said, folding her arms and smiling at the woman in front of her.

"I love you too,” Y/n whispered and Natasha blew her a kiss.

"Y/n?" Another voice called from behind her. It was Yelena this time, the blonde having waited for long enough outside. She placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder and followed her gaze to where Natasha had been stood.

"I love you" Y/n muttered again, tears streaming down her face.

"Y/n who are you talking to?" Yelena asked, worry lacing her words.

"Nat. She's right there." She said, pointing to Natasha in the doorway.

"What? Detka, Nat's not here. What are you talking about?" Yelena asked. Y/n turned around to face her and then looked back to where Natasha was standing.

Or where she was standing. Except now that spot was empty.

She wasn’t there.

"She was there! She was just there! No!" The girl was in distress, shouting and crying as she ran around, checking everywhere in the apartment.

"Y/n what's going on?" Yelena asked hesitantly, her concerned increasing by the second. What had she missed?

“She’s gone! Nat left! She left me again! No, she promised she wouldn’t leave me again.” She was a sobbing mess, collapsing to her knees in the middle of the apartment, no longer caring about the dust that thickly coated the floor. Yelena rushed to her side and knelt down, pulling her into a hug. She rocked the sobbing girl gently, tightening her grip as she felt Y/n clutch at her shirt to ground herself. She was muttering frantically, incoherent sentences flowing into each other.

"Y/n, Nat's gone. She isn't coming back." It was harsh, but Yelena had to say it. The truth stung.

"She was just here." Y/n whimpered. "We danced together. I felt her. She was real!"

"Oh Y/n. That wasn’t real."

"It was real to me!" She pressed her head back into Yelena’s shoulder and continued to cry, laboured breaths dragging themselves through her constricted lungs, clawing at her insides and almost begging to break through her chest.

And the whole time those stupid converse were in her hand.

She never let them go.

They were the last thing Y/n ever got from her.

The only thing close enough to serve as a final reminder.

Of Nat.

Her Nat.

Natasha Romanoff.

Daughter. Sister. Avenger.

Wife.

[the-au-thor]

Bestfriend Blurb #2 | Spencer Reid

Okay so,I didn't intend to add more parts to the bestfriend! Blurb but since anon asked...this is another blurb! it's connected with this one but you can read it in no order in particular.

Summary: Spencer and Reader are best friends, they're in love but they don't know it yet. Let's see how they're going to find out.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Go to this link!

There were very few things in your life that you were passionate about. Thankfully, your job was one of them; you had studied sociology and forensic science, then trained at the academy to investigate crime scenes. The opportunity to work in the field investigating cases for the BAU presented itself, and you couldn't refuse. You had used the camera so much to capture gruesome scenes that you began to associate it with less traumatic events; beautiful moments that occurred in the most unpleasant cases.

Once Hotchner's son dressed up as him for Halloween, and on another occasion, Henry dressed as Spencer. How could you let those memories pass without trying to immortalize them in some way?

Photography had become your grounding force, a bridge reminding you that even when you saw horrible things, there was humanity that contributed beauty and kindness. It served as your own escape method, a therapy to keep you away from madness. If a gallery wanted to exhibit your work, you wouldn't oppose it; it was a great opportunity, and you had nothing to lose by trying.

However, you hadn't mentioned anything to anyone. This had nothing to do with your work, and it was bothersome enough for the other members of your team to have you walking around with your camera.

You turned the page of your comic as music filtered into your ears. Leaning against one of the Jet's walls on the way home, buried in your favorite seat, Spencer got up from his couch—the one without his name, but the whole team knew belonged to him—and sat next to you, chin resting on his palm, observing you with curiosity. You tried to ignore him for a few seconds, and you noticed his free hand travel to your knee, stopping the nervous movement you didn't realize you were making.

You closed the comic and left it on your lap, removed your headphones, and stared at Spencer waiting for his inevitable question.

"You're nervous, why?" he finally asked with concern and curiosity.

"Did you get up from your throne and lower yourself to the commoners just because you think I'm nervous?" you asked back with a half-smile.

Spencer raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. "Well, well, well," his small dimples appeared at the corners of his lips, "answering a question with another question, if that's not evasion, I don't know what is."

You rolled your eyes slightly with a smile. "Are you profiling me, Dr. Reid?"

"And you're still evading my first question," he pointed with a teasing look.

You sighed in resignation. Spencer and you knew each other very well. Based on years of working together and years of friendship, you could tell if he was going through something just by observing his behavior—dissociation, furrowed brow, avoiding any social interaction, isolation. And he knew your signs—the blasting sound of Janis Joplin in your ears, restless leg syndrome, and, of course, evasion of questions that could seem simple and innocent.

"I'm not nervous," you lied, trying to avoid showing any gesture that would normally give you away.He stopped smiling.

His lips tightened into a concerned thin line.

"But the thing is you are," he replied, softening his voice, "but I want to know why, to help you."

The way he said it made your heart leap everywhere but in your chest. You couldn't keep avoiding him, not when he looked at you like that, not with his hand soothingly on your knee.

"It's nothing bad. You really don't have to worry," you nervously nibbled on your lips and then settled in the chair to lean closer to him so that the others wouldn't hear. "It's just that Lizzie showed a couple of my photos to her boss, and he offered me a space in his gallery for a couple of exhibitions. Nothing big."

Spencer opened his mouth with a surprised smile, and his fingers tightened on your knee, giving a gentle and excited squeeze.

"That's wonderful," he whispered with a suppressed shout, and then his other hand went up to your neck, affectionately stroking your hair. "And when is it?"

"Uh... it's today," you mumbled the answer quickly, and you saw him frown with curiosity.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"It's not that I didn't want to. It's just that you guys are so busy, and I already annoy you enough by putting my lens in your faces all the time. It's not a big deal."

Spencer raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Are you kidding? It's a big deal, and you never annoy us."

"You have to say that; you're my friend."

"Best friend," he corrected, "and my opinion counts even more."

That made you smile.

"I didn't want to make a big fuss about this," you whispered, looking down at your lap uncomfortably.

"I know, I know you don't like to. But I'm also happy for this; I know you enjoy taking those photos, and they're an important part of who you are."

You lifted your gaze to meet Spencer's honest eyes.

"Thank you, Walt."

He closed his eyes almost immediately as soon as you called him by that nickname. Leaning his head against the seatback, he opened his eyes, laughing softly.

"You've returned to being yourself. It's good that it wasn't anything bad; I was worried."

You blinked slowly as confirmation. "It's nothing to worry about. Thank you for caring"

You placed hand on his, returning his squeeze.

"I love you, you know..."

And there it was again: your heart outside your chest.

"Yeah" you whispered "I love you too" you added.

And you meant it.

You really did.

Part 3

[bioethicists]

responding to this with my shitty redaction because i'm not comfortable posting obvious bait with people's names in them (particularly dead names) but i just wanted to point out the ways in which this ask is prototypical bait written to purposefully generate drama or controversy (idk if this is in a kiwifarms trolling with right wing motives sense or an 'i love drama' person) by trying to appeal to online leftist culture/the fear of being 'problematic'. i see ppl fall for this constantly + i need people to start learning to recognize the signs instead of either engaging or using this as evidence that leftists are stupid/petty/hypocritical (which many of us are, but in much less amusing ways, unfortunately)

the implication that there is a single founder of the "neurodiversity movement" + that evoking this movement at all (which i don't do + i think it's actually pretty evident that my politics are distinct from the much more bioessentialist politics of those who prefer that term, which is part of what led me to conclude that this is a copypasta) is supporting the founder. tracing a broad social concept to a single individual, then disparaging that individual as morally unsound (by evoking other explosive, petty pieces of discourse, like baeddalism + transandrophobia) in order to provoke doubt, fear or anger. demonstrates a hope that leftists will flinch away from anything associated with anyone 'problematic' without applying any critical thinking.

misrepresenting complex events (or fabricating them entirely- idk if these things happened + i simply couldn't care enough to find out) in a way that hits the pressure points of performative activism (she's being mean to an autistic person! other people of color agree with me! this other person is anti physically disabled people!) while also betraying reactionary opinions through language use/implications (claiming to care about 'transandrophobia' yet deadnaming someone? claiming to care about specific events at specific autism conferences but using terms like "severely autistic"? saying you have spoken to "Blacks, Asians, Hispanics, American Indians" lmao did you type this out based on census checkboxes from the 70s?). the author of this ask is clearly not a member of the activist communities they claim to be from because they accidentally slip into the speech conventions + opinions of a kiwifarms/4chan loser who does a lot of hatereading. this one did a good job of hitting the bingo card of divisive intracommunity issues rn- great research skills, bud! put them to better use <3

reframing reactionary beliefs using leftist concepts. this works because many of us do not have a foundational politic outside of "well, i want to be good, so I'm going to support the things that other people i trust say are good". which doesn't make you bad (there is no good or bad! learn this now + quick, if you really want to play a part in building a better world) but it makes you easy to manipulate + unlikely to be capable of meaningful change. notice that the claims this ask is asserting are, at their core, "people make up microaggressions to cause problems when really they could easily suck it up" + "people fake disabilities and being trans for attention". these are reactionary concerns, no matter how artfully they are dressed in social justice language. kiwifarms in particular was very, very good at this- they loved finding the people they stalked to be racist, homophobic, ableist, etc, not because they thought those things were wrong (it was their hobby to be these things!) but because they delighted in identifying hypocrisy, stirring up drama, + destroying people's reputations.

this is hard to explain bcuz i blacked out the names, but if you have a passing familiarity with fascist/reactionary online spaces, particularly the history of kiwifarms, you will know that reactionaries have their own 'pet leftists', just like we have our 'pet fascists' (shapiro, alex jones, tucker carlson, etc). that is, ppl they obsessively follow, harass, + scrutinize + come to believe are representative of everything that we believe. these ppl are rarely ppl who are actually prominent in our online spaces but online reactionaries often believe we are just as obsessed with these people as they are, but as unquestioned paragons of virtue + brilliance. namedropping these ppl is often an accidental tip of the hat, particularly when the ppl aren't on tumblr, haven't been a topic of community discussion for quite some time, or run in a different circle than us (reactionaries don't understand that there are actually thousands of leftist social groups which have very little overlap with some others- pronouns in bio does not mean someone knows or cares about contrapoints, for instance)

tl;dr this ask is a fantastic example of the rhetorical features bait that someone might actually take seriously.

[silkythewriter]

Hello! If you are still open can I request these two characters from LMK (Lego Monkie Kid)?

YANDERE! Sun Wukong and YANDERE!Macaque the six-ear monkey (together) with a Y/N who extremely fear people who are stronger than them so they always hide when meeting one

Y/N: they are a person that has Social anxiety and overthinks alot even in small situations and they always hide behind something that is big enough to hide them (EXAMPLE: BIG Rock) (when their trust one is not there) and hide behind their trust one (EXAMPLE: Hiding behind pigsy) (when their trust one is there) when meeting a stronger person. And it took REALLY long to get their trust.

Sun Wukong meet them beacsue M.k introduced them to him

Macaque meets them on accident (which you can choose how /3)

I hope you can do this!! :D (NOT FORCING)

꧁𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬꧂

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲: silkythewriter, formally known as weirdowithahat

𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: reposted by: unknown on Pinterest and crated by flying bark

𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝/𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: sublieu

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Simon Lucas

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: yanderes, Obsession, stalking, toxic relationship, OOC macaque, OOC sun wukong . ALSO JUST WANNA AGAIN, thank you guys so much for the request!!! <3. You guys and this fandom are truly awesome!!!!

Swk: sun wukong

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝:

Headcanons began now

I feel like sun wukong and macaque would find it adorable. Yet they would try their best to help you in the situation.

Like for example gaining your thrust, even if it takes a good while, it better for you to try hiding behind them then pigsy or anyone else. These two monkey boys get jealous at the smallest things

The swear to protect you no matter the cost so when anyone villainous or to powered shows up you know it’s about to be a show not to mention how sun wukong and macaque like being show offs while doing so

If both of them know the person will be a bit of a struggle to put down if they are a threat. One would carry you off to MK as the other fights. They only trust Mk with you cause he is the only one with powers such as theirs and well he’s the one they know the most of course!

When Mk introduced you to sun wukong, sun wukong was immediately memorized, especially by your cute little movements no one else but him noticed. Like the way you clutched mks sleeve while nervously, or the way you but your lip when you thought hard, or even when you played with your fingers to distract yourself from uncomfortable situations

But to sun wukong dismay soon macaque learned about you one way or other. They both budded heads with each other constantly due to you

They did come to a resolution after one incident that made them work together to save you from a outta control demon. I know sun wukong is immortal but holy hell did that give him a death scare

They keep you close and follow you anywhere, where ever you go they go. Even if your just rounding a small street Conor to a store they’ll never be too far behind always trailing right behind you.

They usually like teasing you when you hide behind a rock or anything, mainly sun wukong but if it actually turns out serious and you end up hurt these boys are going to go CRAZY

Whenever you get hurt they are most differently fighting and blaming each other, while also smothering you and making sure your okay

To be honest their like your personal body guards anywhere you go. Like I mean anywhere 😭

Macaque is horrible at social situations even with his slide guy mask. So he understands your pain, aswell as sun Wunkong a bit, but he’s more social then both of you so when it comes to talking or anything it’s usually up to him

Pigsy catch up’s to this and tries standing up to them but….let’s just say he stayed silent real quick -_-💧

Over all these two monkey boys are very overprotective of you so you better get use to two magic monkeys following you around 24/7 💧 I wish you luck reader -_-💧

[yanderambling]

concept: Psychic Honor Student!Yandere(gn) x Transfer Student!Reader(gn)

words: ~1.1k

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, suggestive themes, stalking, stealing, mind-reading, severe invasions of privacy

Desta has been at the top of all their classes for as long as they can remember.

They’ve always been a loner, strange and intelligent and self-righteous as they are; it’s not exactly a mystery why they’re consistently ostracized by peers. Anyone who gave them a chance wouldn’t last a week before getting fed up with their off-kilter remarks and haughty demeanor.

They didn’t make it easy on themself, they know that, but they don’t mind anymore. In fact, they've come to appreciate their isolation; their peers just get duller and duller as the years go by, they couldn't imagine wasting their time on any such dimwits. Besides, their solitude makes it easier for them to focus on their studies, both in school and… other regards.

See, Desta’s mind was gifted with more than just intellect.

They first started hearing other people’s thoughts in preschool (it made learning the alphabet a living hell). Nobody believed them when they tried to get help, parents and teachers alike brushed it off as oversensitivity, so they were forced to manage it by themself.

And they did, expertly if they say so themself. As they have with everything else in their life.

By the time they could put it into words others could understand, there was really no need- getting others involved would’ve just made it more complicated, especially when they started gaining new abilities (most recently, they’ve begun manipulating objects with their mind; they can only imagine how much stricter their parents would become with that knowledge).

They still aren’t sure what the extent of their abilities is, or if it has anything to do with their academic performance, but they are certain that it’s a journey best taken solo.

At least, they were certain. Until they met you.

You’re… different. That much is apparent when they first look into your mind, initially an idle action borne from boredom and a vague curiosity about the midyear transfer.

What first struck them was your surprising sense of calm. Most new students’ minds are just oceans of anxiety, panic over the new school layout and the novel social hierarchies, but yours was just… still.

You were contemplating the architecture (predictably outdated, in keeping with the neighborhood, the bathrooms probably malfunction a lot), the student who was showing you around (boring haircut, kind voice, moves with vaguely irritating certainty), each thought so natural and straightforward- it was like a breath of fresh air after having their head stuck in the trash bag of this school’s social stratum.

You had no concern for the petty posturing and hierarchies, your mind was so active yet so clear, you were so confident in your every movement, every thought.

You’re the first person they can remember ever piquing their interest. It was an exciting feeling, frightening and new.

They needed more of it.

They began to find peace in listening to your thoughts. It’s a nice break from the unending cacophony, simply hearing you running through your daily tasks, making grocery lists, giving mental commentary on the world around you (they've nearly exposed themself by laughing at your silent quips on multiple occasions), even the verses of songs you only remember one part of looped over and over. They start to admire the way you view the world and the people in it, each peek into your mind only leaves them more fascinated.

You quickly become their favorite pastime.

They start relying on your little comments and musings to get them through the school days. You just have such a unique perspective, you’re so much purer than the minds they’re constantly surrounded by, you’re so real and genuine- you’re just not like the others. And they would know.

They soon become obsessed with being in your head.

They start to follow you around so they’re always close enough to hear you, memorizing your schedule as you’d mentally revise it each morning. Sometimes you swear you can feel eyes boring into your back, but the instinct alone lets them hide before you can even turn your head. They follow you further and further each day, until they've memorized at least three different routes to your house.

It's still not enough.

They sneak out to your place most nights, watching through your window as you unwind from your day (your mind is especially calm at these moments, they feel like they could float away on the gentle stream of your thoughts). When they get bold enough, they crack open your window after you fall asleep and look for a souvenir (something small, of course. something you won't miss, light enough for them to levitate, like a pencil or an article of clothing).

It still not enough.

It's not uncommon for them to tune in to the thoughts of those around you, friends or classmates or neighbors, just to get more of you. They get viscerally jealous when anyone so much as thinks a positive thought about you- nobody could possibly appreciate your beauty like Desta, their minds are all clouded by lust and material priority- but god help anyone who thinks badly of you (and god forbid they catch you thinking of somebody else; not for your sake, but for the poor bastard you've taken a liking to. they wouldn't have been good enough for you, anyway).

These days, they're in your head more often than their own. It's still not enough.

They start to do things to get you to notice them; start answering more questions in your shared classes, wearing bolder outfits and constantly checking to see if you notice.

They learn the things you like. They only wear your favorite colors, they exclusively listen to your favorite music, read your favorite books, watch your favorite movies- if they notice you have a preference for a certain hair color, they’re dyeing theirs that night. They know way too much about all of your hobbies and interests, just in case they ever work up the nerve to have a conversation with you. They haven't yet.

You’ve had a couple run-ins- brushed against them in the hallway, passed them a handout in class- and each one left them flushed and shaking, overwhelmed by your mere proximity.

It's all too much, but not nearly enough.

They know they can't approach you, they’ll make a fool of themself- even knowing what everyone is thinking isn’t enough for them to navigate most social situations, let alone with the added stress of simply being in your presence.

No, they’re not ready for your direct attention, not yet.

For now, they'll just have to satisfy themself with your thoughts (and your underwear).

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[mrs-santoss]

Headlines - Neymar Imagines

Summary: "Why do they say that about me, Y/N? It's not like I'm fouling myself on purpose." Neymar feels attacked by what social media says about his game. Neymar's POV: Post after post, everyone was joking and calling my injuries "acting". This was driving me crazy. I don't want this to be my reputation, because it wasn't true. We went to bed with Y/N together and she fell asleep pretty quick, as always. I kept tossing and turning on the bed, so i decided to go out on the balcony and sit for a while, I don't want to wake her up with my movements. At first, this didn't bother me, but now that i'm a key player for Brazil in the Qatar World Cup 2022, this idea grew bigger. Even my most serious injuries are made fun of. It takes a few missed games for the people to realize I was actually hurt. I try not to share this feeling with anyone especially my girlfriend who's always worried about me getting sad because of these stupid rumors. The sun was starting to rise. I couldn't stop scrolling. After a few minutes, a felt a small hand massaging my shoulder. It was Y/N who woke up and cuddled up next to me. "Ney? Why are you awake, mey anjo?" she says softly, still half-awake. "I had a bad dream. I couldn't sleep after that. Why are you here, bebê? Why did you wake up? It's still early." I say to her, kissing her forehead. She laid her head on my chest and placed one hand on my cheek, I kissed her hand repeatedly. She loves it when I do that. We stayed in silence for a couple minutes before Y/N spoke up. "Amor, I can tell when you're lying." she looked up at me, her forehead touching my chin." You know you can always take to me, right?" "I know, amor. It's just that I don't want to bother you with any stupid thoughts that I might have going on in my head." I responded, looking down at her. "Bebê, anything that bothers you will also bother me. It's much more difficult for me if you don't open up to me about it." she says back to me. "I know, amor. I'm just irritated and kind of sad about everything that's being said about my injuries, you know?" I confess to her. I don't dare to look her in the eyes, I looked up at the sky. She shifted in her place, removed her head from my chest and looked at me. I'm still not making eye contact. "Ney, can you look at me, bebê?" she begs, cupping my cheeks. I hold her hands on my cheeks and lean in on her touch further and close my eyes. "Neymar?" I finally look up at her. "Amor, you're a threat to those players, because you're better than them. They want to "accidentally" foul you to get rid of you. This should only make you feel better about yourself. Look at all these amazing players, your friend Lionel. He also gets fouled in the most serious ways because he's good. And the people who say those stuff about you online are the fans of those players who injure you. It's just their opinion, amor. This doesn't define you. It will only define you if you start believing it too." she speaks softly to me, her voice always manages to calm me down. Her words were so spot on, I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. She wipes it quickly with her thumb, her hands still cupping my cheeks. "I know, Y/N. It's just that sometimes it gets too much, you know?" I say her, still sounding unconvinced about her words. "That's why I'm here, amor. I'm supposed to help go through hard times like these. I'm supposed to remind you that you're nothing they say about you.So, please don't hide anything from me." she says softly, and reaches to kiss my lips. "God, I love you so much, meu amor." I say to her. I don't think she realizes how much of an impact she has on me. I adore her. "I love you too, meu amor. So, please don't focus on these stupid things. You are amazing, Neymar Jr." she says to me and smiles softly, causing me to smile too. " Now, let's go back to bed. You have the day off, and I will call in sick so we can lay on bed all day today. How does that sound, Ney?" she asks me. "That sounds perfect, meu anjo."

[andsoigotabutterfly]

Scream

Tara Carpenter x fem!gf!Reader

summary: Your obsession over Tara makes you snap at one of your teammates and former bully. Sweet revenge...

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, murder, harsh language

word count: 4.4k

a.n: This was inpired by 'Scream' from Dreamcatcher, a k-pop band. Make sure to check it out! I also only planed this to be a oneshot, but I might be tempted to make more parts to it. Let me know what you think!

pairings: tara carpenter x reader, platonic!amber freeman x reader

English isn't my native language, but I tried my best as always!

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You’ve become the best player on the school’s rugby team. Everybody treated you with respect and nobody dared cross your path. This didn’t use to be this way. When you first arrived at Woodsboro high, you were bullied and pushed around like a piece of meat by the people, that now, fear you on the field. Their leader was Katia, middle heighted, hot-headed girl. They considered themselves better, for they were good at what they did yet you didn’t excel at anything really. They picked on you for your constant humming of the same lullaby, weird habits and for you not having any friends. You weren’t a bad student your grades were average, and the teachers liked you. You just weren’t exceedingly good at what you liked. It didn’t help that you were silent most of the time either, except for your humming. Never speaking much, always keeping your thoughts to yourself.

After a year, you decided to try out what they were doing, and you immediately outmatched all of them in it. The moment you stepped on the field, it was as if you had been replaced by a superior, more powerful, and robust version of you. You just couldn’t be stopped.

For this you quickly became a core member of the school’s rugby team. With your lead you won price after price, demolishing anyone who would dare stand out against you. It felt unfair, yet glorious. Your old bullies reconciled with you, trying to make you like them, but you pushed them away. Their actions and behaviour disgusted you, yet you needed to tolerate them. They were pretty good at what they did during matches.

Beside the bullies disappearing, your social life changed too. You made some new friends and joined their group. Without realizing it at first, you’ve become obsessed with one of them very quickly. Tara was her name. Just thinking it made you have goosebumps. Her eyes were captivating, her movements were perfect, her existence was a bliss. Her laugh would melt you and give you energy throughout the day. You watched her in classes, only taking her eyes off her if someone pointed it out, or she noticed. Being in her presence always made you calm and at peace. Yet it has also awoke something inside you. You’ve always felt it, but now it was intensified by her. It was this great rage, buried deep inside of you. You could feel it growing, devouring you whenever someone made her discomfortable even the slightest. Whenever someone pushed against her in the corridor. Whenever someone touched what was yours.

To your fortune, you two started hanging out even outside of school. You held movie nights almost daily, which didn’t cause any problems, because both of basically lived alone. Your parents died in a car accident, whilst your uncle, your new guard was either on drugs, or was drunk all the time. Her family was a bit more complicated story.

“Don’t tell me you have never seen Stab…” she said in disbelief one night. “You at least know what it’s about… right?”

“Of course! Masked killer starts stabbing. Hence the title. The directors could have been a little more creative don’t you think?” you asked sarcastically.

Tara’s mouth was wide open. When her shock wore of, she put the first one on, not giving you the chance to protest. You started to watch it, not having real high expectations for it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just after the first kill, you were glued to the screen. It just felt alive. The murders were brutal, gory, and fulfilling. It tingled and sated that side of you, you didn’t really get to know yet. Every second of it was perfect. It reminded you of her. You were so immersed by the movie, you didn’t notice that she was looking at you the whole time, her mood only changing with yours. When the end credits rolled you looked at her and said, “Looks like we are having a marathon tonight.”

After you saw the movies, you got obsessed with them. Not long after, you bought the mask, the robe, and the knife to have the complete set. You didn’t plan on showing it to her but caved the moment she set foot at your place. She looked happy, that she made a fan out of you.

Your friendship hit an all-time high. You two were always seen together, never one, without the other. Your friends were fuming over how oblivious the two of you were, betting over when you two finally admit your feelings for another. At first it was meant to be fun, but when their purses started to deplete, they got more and more inpatient.

Tara started attending your rugby practices not long after, which always made you have butterflies in your stomach. On a sunny Tuesday, whilst having dinner together, you discovered from Chad that she herself is playing rugby too. Just not in school.

“You’re kidding…” you said in disbelief.

“Nope” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “She isn’t just playing. She is good at it. Might I say even better than you, my dear darling!”

For that last part you gave him a look that got him to shut up quick.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you turned to her, asking curiously.

“I… don’t really know. I guess it just never came up?” she answered shyly.

“And you say she’s good?”

Before he could answer, she asked back. “You question his statement?”

Careful. You thought to yourself. “Well, you don’t seem like the type that…” Idiot!

“Let me show you on the field just what type I am to you…” she said, her voice filled with dismay.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Tara.”

“Too late Miss L/N…”

“Oh, you’ve done it. She is using last names…” Chad said, sinking back in his chair, wishing to be anywhere not here.

“On the field. Tomorrow at your practice” Tara said with finality.

“I’m looking forward to this” you said with a chuckle.

---------------------------------------------------

That night you were so excited for the next day, you couldn't sleep. The thought of Tara and you being together on the field made you happy and giddy. This mood got the better of you, and Amber was the one that would take the worst of it. She was your go to in everything. You knew you trust her with everything, so you did. When your obsession with Tara started, she didn’t judge you for it, even encouraged you. Right now, she wished she didn’t do it. You were texting her non-stop about her, disrupting her sleep. She groaned loudly into her pillow as the sounds of your texts going off sieged her ears. Yet, she didn’t have the heart to turn you down, and to ignore you. So, she started writing back.

As you rented about what tactics you will use and told her how you will maybe let her win, she wrote back an occasional “yes”, or “That shit will WORK”. You didn’t comprehend how much time has passed as you talked with each other while you were humming your usual lullaby. Finally, you noticed your surroundings getting brighter. As your tired mind finally recognized what this meant, you facepalmed yourself so hard your head hit the wall, making you groan out loud. You looked at the time and realized that you didn’t just not have time to sleep but would need to hurry to not be late from school. You quickly got ready, making a hot cup of coffee, and after chugging it down, you started sprinting, your bag bouncing of your back.

The streets were filled with jack o’ lanterns, as it was the end of October. Tomorrow would be Halloween, which got the city exited, decorating the whole place with Ghostface masks and paper knives. You saw some bats and spiders here and there, but the main decoration everywhere, was the legacy of Woodsboro.

You got to school just in time. You swept through the halls decorated in Halloween theme, making it to your destination just as the teacher closed the door behind him. Damned hour zero. you thought as you grabbed the door and sneaked into the classroom. The teacher had his back towards you, so you quietly pulled the door towards yourself wishing it would shut by itself and started slowly but surely making your way beside Tara’s side.

“Miss L/N would you mind please closing the door behind you?” Mr. Darsney asked with a condescending tone. For a moment you stooped even lover, then straightened your posture and went back to the door to close it. Loud. The class was giggling, Tara’s face shining brighter than the sun itself. You felt yourself get mesmerized by her. “Not only are you late, Miss L/N, but to you standing there, beside the door, watching somebody very curiously is more important to you than to sprint to the desk to run through your notes in case of a surprise test? Now that’s bold… Bold enough to assume you are overly prepared for it.”

You tried walking to your place but was cut off by him once more. “No, Miss L/N, please come out here, and tell me how you would solve this quadradic equation…” You turned towards the numbers he wrote on the table and shot lightnings at him with your eyes. There was no way in hell you could solve this in this state of mind, and he knew it, wide grin on his face.

After a few more questions, he let you sit down, a new ‘F’ decorating your grade book. You were fuming there beside Tara, imagining different and more creative ways to end Darsney’s life. Some of them you quite liked. Still, your favourite was running your knife through him over and over and over and over again. What am I thinking? It was the rage. Must have been the rage.

“You, okay?” Tara asked you, as you slumped down next to her.

“I’m alright” you said, as you sighed deeply.

After class, you and Tara went to the yard, to the place where you and your friends would always sit and talk. They all pour in one by one, Amber being the last one. Her expression is plain dead, as if she was dragged out of a coffin just moments ago.

“Well, you look like hell” you teased her. She gave you such a dark look, you immediately shut up. Her gaze stayed on you for a couple more moments, making you feel small, but would eventually dissipate. “Wanna watch the big showdown between me and Tara?”

“I’d rather not talk about that now…” she managed to say out. The tiredness in her voice made you feel sorry for her. She lived almost as far away as you from school, if not farther.

Yet, hours later, she showed up to the practice, taking her usual space, next to the field. You arrived a little late. The others already began the practice. Today the coach called in sick, so you were left to do what you thought was best for yourselves. As you approached the others, you spotted Tara already being around them, making lightning quick moves with the ball. What she lacked in strength and height she made up for in speed and agility. You couldn’t be more amazed.

After watching the game unfold for almost five minutes, they spotted you and started making teams. You let them know you and Tara wanted to be on opposite sides, which they gladly accepted. No one would have a chance if you two were put together.

As you lined up before each other, Tara threw you a wide grin. You leaned into position; your face close to hers. She looked at you, then pouted, playing the weak little girl. “Please, don’t make me scream. I don’t want to!”

“Oh, but I would love to hear that! Preferably somewhere else…” you answered, mimicking her smile.

“Keep it in your pants Y/N” she said, leaning even closer. “Not while they are watching…” she whispered in your ear, making you have goosebumps. You felt lightheaded and hazy. Her smirk told you that she noticed your state of mind. She leaned in close once again. “Who knows” she started whispering again. “Maybe I’ll let you hear them afterwards…”

She leaned back before you could do anything, then signalled for the match to start. As the whistle’s sound cut through the air, you threw yourself into the area where the ball would fall, Tara in your tracks. You watched the sky as the ball descended right into… Tara’s hands. Somehow, she ran around you and snatched the ball away from you. As soon as she did that, she started sprinting towards the goal, but was caught by one of Katia’s friends, Delilah. As they smashed together Tara fell back on the ground making you shout at her. As you realized you couldn’t be angry at your own teammate you found an excuse for your anger, told a few instructions then went back to playing the game. Focus Y/N. Focus you thought to yourself.

The end of the match was nearing, and the score was tied. With a few more of your outbursts, your team wasn’t really in the mood to stop Tara once she got the ball. But you needed the win and tensions were high. Then, when the timer was nearing zero, Tara got the ball again. You chased after her, taking everything you had to catch up, still failing. Then she bounced back from something, hitting the floor hard, making her scream out in pain.

You stopped, blood boiling in your veins as you looked up at the woman who stood above Tara. It was Katia, sweat dripping down her face. Something in you snapped, suddenly seeing every little detail in the field. In just a moment you decided against gutting Katia right in front of everyone. You strengthened your posture and went to Tara to help her up. Even with your senses getting better than ever, you didn’t see the knowing look she gave you.

With Tara not being able to play because of her sprained ankle, the match ended in a win, making your team cheer on you and each other. While the other team was sulking, Tara was only watching you. Your iron gaze, that never left Katia, watching her every move, eyeing her up for something. Then you excused yourself, making your way to the change rooms. Amber threw you a worried look too, but you ignored it as you stormed away.

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. These were the only words that were on your mind. Her scream echoed through your head again, and again, making your newly found rage and anger boiling up more and more inside you. Dead woman walking. Let me hear her scream! Let me see her insides! You couldn’t think straight. Your hatred took you over, made you turn, all barriers gone. You weren’t just going to let these thoughts be. You were going to act on them. Even the timing was perfect. Now you were free from your own restraints. Now you felt powerful. Now you could do anything. And she was going to pay.

---------------------------------------------------

There was a party that night at Katia’s, which you now excused yourself from. You also cancelled a movie night with Tara, saying you don’t feel so good. Then you took the robe out from the closet, and just looked at it for a while. You closed your eyes and saw what you would do in it. The feeling you felt from it was glorious. You put it in a bag and put the mask and the knife beside it. You also brought your uncle’s old Nokia with you, so you couldn’t be traced back. You wanted to mimic the original. It was the least you could do if you used their robes.

You left the house in a black t-shirt and jeans, walking towards Katie’s house, which was not far from yours. Costumed people were stumbling in and out of the house’s door. You realized you could have just come as Ghostface and still wouldn’t be suspicious. So, you hid behind a wall, and started to change. Lastly you put on the mask, with a careful and slow move. You hid the knife in your robes and walked to the house.

As people noticed you, they complimented your costume, saying it looked very real. Of course, it looks real. It wasn’t just bought from any site. You fumed at their ignorance. You were reminded, that when the robe arrived its hands were… bad. You needed to cut them down and sew back what you made from the material. You were proud of your work, and it felt good that people complimented it. Even though they knew nothing of what it took to make it stand out.

The house would have looked homely if it weren’t for the beer cups and liquid that were spurred around the rooms. Some music was banging in the background making you sick to the stomach. You call this music? Oh, you wanted to carve up the DJ too. Maybe you would.

Your eyes scanned the place, looking for Katia. You found her, heading downstairs after somebody. Perfect. You followed her, making sure to close the door of the basement behind you, leaving no escape route. You slowly started making your way down the stairs, taking joy in every step that got you closer to your prey. You looked around the room, finding a curtain to hide behind, next to some boxes. Then, you froze down.

She was talking with a girl; you wish you hadn’t seen here. Tara was cornered by her, covering shyly back from the other woman. Your breath slowed, and your vision went red.

Tara was worried about you calling sick but didn’t mention it. To Chad’s encouragement she attended Katie’s party but regretted it the moment she realized you wouldn’t be there. After she got there dressed as a pirate, she regretted it even more. People were too crowded, and Katie’s band wouldn’t leave her alone, either telling her how great she was, or mocking her with ridiculous reasons. When she heard them talking you out, she couldn’t take it and made her way outside for some fresh air. She found a mass outside too; she went downstairs to finally be alone. Even that didn’t go as planned. She missed your company. She missed your voice. She missed your touch.

Then, Katia showed up, and made it worse. How could she make something this bad even worse?

“You know, I never apologized for how I knocked you up” she started, not sounding genuine. “So, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“No problem” Tara said, standing up and trying to make it past her, but Katia moved so she couldn’t. She shot her a questioning glare but was met by a sudden closeness from the other woman, who was now in her face, making Tara stumble back, hitting the wall.

“You were pretty impressive on practice today” Katia started again, with a deeper voice as she moved even closer. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you…”

“Thanks?” Tara said, questioningly.

“You know, I can feel your gaze on me too. In classes, in the corridors of the school, at practice” Katia said, tucking at Tara’s shirt. “Some would say it’s creepy bu-“ she was cut of by her ringing phone.

She stepped back, taking her phone out of her back pocket with a frown. She didn’t know the number so she hang up. As she started to put it away, it rang again. Confused, she put it down again, only for it to start over. Tara felt relived a little, trying to inch out of the other woman’s periphery. When Katia hung up again there was a beat of silence. Until Tara’s phone rang. The two women looked at each other, fear evident in their eyes, then Tara picked up.

“Hello?” she all but asked, her voice trembling. She wasn’t sure who to fear more, the woman in front of her, or the human across the line. When she heard that voice, she was certain it was the later.

“Hello Tara” Ghostface said. “Could you pull Katia to the line? I would really love to talk with her. Oh, and don’t worry. All you need to do is watch…”

“Who is it?” Katia asked, as she saw Tara turn pale, all blood escaping her face.

“I- It’s for you” she managed to mutter out as she held the phone towards her. Katia took it and immediately spoke.

“Listen here you little cree-“

“No, you listen bitch! Didn’t your parents teach you manners?! When the phone rings, you answer it.”

“So, you were the one who was ringing me non-stop?” she asked with a shaken voice, taken off-guard by your voice’s rawness.

“Indeed, I was. Now, I’m going to be nice and give you a chance…” No not really you thought as your smile only grew bigger.

“A chance to what?”

“To make it out alive from this cold, rigid basement” you rolled your eyes.

She looked around, walking straight towards the stairs as she hung up. You ripped of your cover from before you, stopping her in her steps. You tilted your head, as you studied her, frightened, horrified face.

“Manners, maketh, man” you said, emphasising every word. You took the knife out, turning sideways towards her. “I’m disappointed that you acted so rashly. Now, I need to skip over the little game we would have had, and I hate to skip over things!”

“Wha- What do you want?” she asked, backing away from you. Just seeing her like this made everything worth it.

“It’s pretty simple” you answered her, stepping slowly closer. Tara was to your right, the stairs to the left, knife in your right hand. You shook it a little, to sharpen the tension in Katia. As you did, she hit the wall, stumbling off it. In a moment, you were on her, gripping her neck tightly. “I just want to her you scream!”

As you said the words, you plunged the knife into her stomach, turning it to make it more painful. The cries she let out were music to your ears, everything else fading in the background. You pulled out, then stabbed her twice in the chest, making her writhe under your unclenching fingers. Warm blood was dripping down your hand, and it made you feel good.

You let her fall to the ground, as her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. As she coughed, she held one of her hands up, trying to stop you. “Do you know who my fathe- Argh!” you didn’t let her finish that sentence, kicking one of her new wounds.

“Sorry, somehow, I’m just not worried about deputy James” you told her. You didn’t even notice that Tara wasn’t beside you anymore as she disappeared in the background, slowly making her way up the stairs. Her ankle hurt like hell, so she tried her best to hold back her whimpers. Her heart was pounding in her chest, yet she wasn’t scared. She felt that something was off with this Ghostface.

You started humming as you placed yourself on top of Katia, pressing one of your knees into her wounds, kicking the other one, so it would break. That finally got her to scream out in pain. A chill ran up your spine at the sound. It felt majestic.

Next to Katia’s screams, there was a new sound in the room, that made Tara stop trying to pry the door open. She looked down the stairs, eyes wide. She would recognize that humming anywhere. Your humming. Was this reality or was she dreaming? Why did she feel even less sympathy for Katia now, that she knew who was behind the mask. Without thinking straight, she started stepping back down the stairs.

As Katia squirmed under you, you felt more fulfilled than ever. You made every cut, every stab, every hit with total consciousness. Blood was covering the woman, making her eyes red, as her tears mixed with the crimson liquid. You let yourself enjoy what you did, making no lethal cuts. You also tried to make sure she was wake long enough to feel every single one of them. As your tunes came to an end, you leaned over to her face, gripping her hair to hold her back. “Now you know what happens when you touch what’s mine” you said, then dived your knife into her neck, just beside the chin. She arched up one last time, then fell back, not moving anymore. You took the knife out of her neck, swiping the blood of from it. Then you looked back up.

Tara was leaning against the staircase’s frame, watching you with wide eyes. Her posture didn’t show any sign of discomfort or fear, admiration showing on her face. As you stood up, she mimicked you, then she took a step towards you. Then another. When she was close enough, she reached out for your mask, leaving you time to move back, but you didn’t. As she grabbed it and took it off, she let out a sigh.

“Tara…” you started, but were cut of by her lips on yours, as she leaned up to kiss you. It was hot, messy, and perfect. Her lips felt so soft, you could get high from them. Your knife dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid attention to it. You let her tongue pass into your mouth, which she did without hesitation. As you took her deeper, she pressed her body into you, turning yours on fire. She exhaled through her nose, then pulled away so that she could take a breath.

“That, was hot” she said, eyeing you. You couldn’t answer her, still trying to comprehend what just happened. “All this for me?” she asked, as she grinned at you.

“Everything for you…” you blared out immediately. “I would do anything for you. I would drown the world in blood before anyone could take you from me.”

When you finished, she kissed you again deeply. It didn’t take much time for you to turn the party into a make out session. “Take me” she whispered into your ear. “Let me scream for you.” Your mind went blank at those words, and you did what she asked of you. Tara felt in heaven as you made her feel better than ever. She looked down at Katia’s fresh dead body, relief flooding through her, making the sensations even better. She was laying with her killer, and it made everything just right.

[beestriker015]

Yandere Akiza x male s/o

(There is a serious lack of yugioh girls x male reader stuff here on Tumblr, imma fix that.)

During her time at New Domino City’s Duel Academy, Akiza was a social outcast due to her psychic abilities and no one made an attempt to become friends with her….except for s/o, a relatively new student at the academy.

“Hello, my name’s s/o! What are you doing sitting here by yourself?”

“…..My name’s Akiza Izinski. Now go away please.”

“Nice to meet you Akiza! Mind if I sit here?”

“Did you not hear what I just said? Just go away and leave me alone!”

No matter how much she tried pushing him away, s/o continued trying to befriend Akiza and get to know her.

Despite her unusual psychic powers, s/o wasn’t afraid of Akiza and became the only person at the academy to continually be nice to her, much to the girl’s confusion.

“Why are you always so nice to me s/o?!You should be afraid of me like all the others! I can bring duel monsters to life! I’m dangerous!”

She exclaims at s/o as he takes a seat next to her as he has for a few weeks now.

“I don’t think you’re dangerous Akiza, and I’m not afraid of you. I just want to be your friend because everyone deserves to have a friend. Besides, I think your powers are really cool!”

S/o says to her with a kind smile, shocking the girl greatly.

“He’s really not like the others is he? Maybe….just maybe I might’ve found someone who accepts me for who I am.”

A small smile tugs at Akiza’s lips as she questions whether s/o could be the one person she can call her friend.

Due to s/o’s perseverance, he eventually manages to become friends with Akiza and breaks her out of her shell a little bit, unknowingly sparking something from deep inside her heart.

As their friendship continued to blossom, Akiza began developing feelings for s/o that are completely foreign to her.

“Is this what love feels like? No! I cannot be falling in love with s/o! He may be my friend, but s/o couldn’t possibly love a monster like me!”

She tells herself, even though s/o has made it crystal clear that he doesn’t view her as a monster and doesn’t think she should think of herself as one.

Things began to change between the two after Akiza joined the Arcadia Movement, s/o noticing a personality change in his friend.

“She’s becoming a lot more distant and cold, even more than when we meet at Duel Academy.”

Eventually, s/o confronts her about this, which only upsets Akiza.

“Nothing’s going on with me s/o! I’m perfectly fine! Just leave me alone!”

S/o doesn’t listen and decides to challenge her to a duel, which was a big mistake as he is easily defeated and ends up getting hurt by Akiza’s psychic powers.

Realizing what she’s done, Akiza rushes over to s/o and begins sobbing.

“I’m so sorry s/o! I didn’t mean to hurt you, I don’t know what came over me! Please forgive me!”

S/o looks up to his friend and flashes her a weak smile as he gently wipes her tears away with his thumb.

“Please don’t cry, of course I’ll forgive you Aki. I always will.”

With her emotions having risen to a fever pitch (that’s a Pokémon XD reference), she backs away from s/o and shouts at him with tears streaming down her face.

“Why?! I could’ve seriously hurt you! How can you so easily forgive a monster like me?!”

S/o manages to get up and takes a few steps towards toward her.

“You are not a monster Akiza. To answer your question though, it’s because….I love you.”

His words bring a pleasant warmth to Akiza’s heart as she looks at him in surprise and with a deep blush on her face.

“Y-you love me s/o?”

When he answers with a nod, Akiza can’t help but rush over and hug him tightly.

“I love you too s/o! I promise to never let anything or anyone hurt you again!”

They then share a loving and passionate kiss, thus kicking off their relationship and causing another change in Akiza…for better and for worse.

From being with s/o, Akiza has now become a much kinder person…except to other girls.

Whenever a girl would talk to s/o or god forbid flirt with him, Akiza would cling to her boyfriend tightly and shoot a scary glare at the girl to make her leave.

S/o is either completely oblivious to his girlfriend’s growing possessiveness or just doesn’t care, and Akiza isn’t sure which (nor does she care all that much.)

If anyone were to say anything bad about s/o, Akiza will gladly stick up for her boyfriend….and even use her powers if she feels it’s necessary.

“Hey hotstuff! Why not ditch that loser and get with a real man like me!”

A tough guy calls out as Akiza and s/o were on a date.

“Ignore him Akiza, you can take care of him later. For now, just enjoy the time you’re spending with s/o.”

She tells herself under her breath so that her boyfriend doesn’t hear.

Needless to say….the tough guy was declared missing the next day and was found a week later in an old alleyway having been strangled to death and covered in small lacerations.

Akiza, despite her yandere tendencies, is actually a very good girlfriend to s/o and enjoys being affectionate with him, happy that despite her abnormal powers, she gets to experience what being normal is like through their relationship.

When she meets Yusei and becomes aware of the threat the Dark Signers pose, Akiza becomes even more protective of her boyfriend.

S/o is not allowed to leave her sight or go anywhere without her, as she knows the Dark Signers could target him due to his relationship with her.

“Is this really necessary Aki? All I’m doing is going to the store for some supplies.”

She grips his hand tightly and looks at him with a stern expression.

“Yes it is. I made a promise when we got together that nothing will ever bring you harm s/o, and I’d do anything necessary to keep that promise!”

“…..alright then, whatever you say my beautiful rose. I love you Akiza.”

Her expression softens as she blushes and kisses him softly on the lips.

“I love you too s/o.”

Keeping a tight grip on her boyfriend, Akiza smiles and walks with him while on the lookout for any threats to her s/o.

“You are my world s/o. You are the only thing I care about. If anyone tries to take you from me or do anything to make you upset, they will learn that this rose has some very sharp thorns.”

She thinks to herself before spotting a group of girls chatting and making not very subtle flirty glances at s/o, causing Aliza’s smile to slow change into a slight scowl that goes completely unnoticed by her boyfriend.

Whether it be girls, bullies, Dark Signers, or anything else, one thing is clear…

No one messes with Akiza’s s/o and gets away with it….

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Thirty Three) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Parts 1-20, 21-30, 31, 32...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @curlycarley @queenie32 @mgparker @misatmosfear @crazyunsexycool

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TW: a little bit of happy crying.

[[A/N: girl let's tie up some loose ends!!! Thanks for reading !!! ]]

You were silently doing some of the chores around the house -day relatively passive, nothing of note. It was these kinds of days you enjoyed most, where you could simply exist, busy yourself to an extent.

So, you were doing a mix of things -at the current moment, you were hanging clothes to dry. Dress bellowing in the wind, it felt quite nice on your skin. You'd chance to later go on a walk. To where you weren't sure, but you were quite certain you'd end up at the Grimes Estate. Always did.

The chirps of birds and rustle of wind filling your ears, you were quite at peace then. Pinning up dresses and towels and father's shirts, you found comfort in the monotony. Motions fluid and practiced, a little bit like dancing.

Though, you would admit dancing was much more fun than such a chore.

Your mind lit up with balls, with music. Twirling dance partners of all sorts, you had danced with quite a few types of people. Being the eldest, everyone often asked for a dance, and being the eldest, you rarely refused.

Plus, it was quite fun dancing with all kinds of people -older, younger, richer, poorer. All types of people danced differently, and you had dabbled in quite a few. Some were funnier than others, and some were not quite as... exciting. Those were the worst, the boring ones.

Maggie quite believed that those with the least skills were the worst. But you heartily disagreed, they (in the right circumstances) can be quite fun. You'd always find something to laugh about later if a man had danced oddly. The worst ones were those with no flair, no talking, no joy.

Their technique could be flawless, each step in time, but it wouldn't be a good dance. Part of the event of dancing was the chatter, the laughter, the joyous swings with the music. Without that, the movements were rather bland and experience monotone.

You'd much rather dance with someone of lesser quality.

You supposed now though, you didn't have to worry about dancing with others. Betrothed, you had quite the built-in dance partner.

Dances with Mr. Grimes were a tedious balance, his movements fluid and practiced and the banter wonderfully produced. It was exciting, not only to be near such a man you held so dearly but to dance with someone as well socialized as himself.

He was clever, witty, and wonderful-

Perhaps, you were a little biased in retrospect. But you did truly believe that dancing with Mr. Grimes had to be one of the delights of your life. To keep such conversations going and move so eloquently to the music, was special. You were glad to be on the receiving end of it.

Although, you were quite certain that Mr. Grimes would say you were the one with such characteristics. As he always did.

"Y/N, darling," Headmistress called out, "-come here, will you?"

Grabbing the empty basket, you waltzed back up to the door -head filled with wonderous sorts of songs and the image of dancing with Mr. Grimes. You were quite smiley, as Maggie would say.

You hummed, placing the basket where it usually stayed -fidgetting with some leftover cloth, "What is it you needed, ma'am?"

Headmistress didn't say anything.

You pursed your lips, turning to face her -curiosity blooming through your chest. What your eyes met was simply not expected.

Headmistress stood there, hand outstretched with a stack of paper -you recognized the ivory. Her dress was crinkled and hair mussed, she looked quite worse for wear -there was a question on the tip of your tongue.

"I finally decided to read them, my dear," she swallowed and you could hear the clog of her nose -the redness of her cheeks to match.

With a start, you realized what she held -the letters, the invitations, from oh so long ago. Something in you had forgotten you'd given them to her to read, desperate for her to understand and forgive Mr. Grimes.

You with ease pulled the papers from her hands -fingers gently carding through them. It was such a mix of emotions to be holding them again -it brought you back to such a place of uncertainty but also at the very beginning of something so wonderful.

She sniffled, dabbing at her eye with a handkerchief, "I couldn't quite do it, at first, all that time ago. All I felt was guilt, and I believed reading these would only further that."

You merely looked at her -watching.

"I cannot express how sorry I am for my misdeeds, and though I do believe you have already forgiven me," she sighed, her voice cracked only slightly, "-I humbly ask for your forgiveness."

"Headmistress-"

"I was holding something so wonderful back from one of my own," she cried, breath biting through her lungs, "-I do not believe I can forgive myself, but I do ask you to. If you have not already."

"Headmistress," you tried to interject.

"If such a thing had ended in heartbreak," she continued, "-I would've certainly never forgiven myself. I hope you know-"

"Headmistress," you stressed, running your hands down her arms, smiling, "-please do not cry. I have long forgiven you."

She seemed to settle slightly then, something heavy lifting from her shoulders; you wondered how long she'd carried such a thing, briefly. You slid your hands down to grab hers, comforting.

"And I urge you not to think of such possibilities," you squeezed her hands, "-Mr. Grimes told me that there was no limit to his affections, and he would have waited forever had I asked him to."

Headmistress was tearing up again, but you felt that this time her reasoning was much different.

"So, even if you had postponed my reaction longer than it was," you explained, "-it is my belief that the outcome would not change."

"Oh," she laughed -a little weepy, "-the man does love you so, doesn't he?"

"Very much," you smiled, "-And I like to believe I love him just the same."

"Oh, my darling girl," Headmistress sighed, hand smoothing over your cheek, "-you are to be married so soon, and to a wonderful man, no doubt."

You leaned into her hand, watching as her eyes began to wetten, and her smile smooth across her lips -something passing through her eyes, "I shall say that I'm rather proud of you."

Your eyes began to fog up then.

"It is with no doubt that the man fell in love with just you," she echoed, rubbing her fingers along your face -looking at you like she could still see you as a child but it was now shifting, "-you need no training to be such a person. It was only a matter of time, really-"

You laughed, "Headmistress-"

"No, truly!" She hummed, a bit joyfully, "-Had you not met Mr. Grimes at the market, I'm sure you would have elsewhere. Either by mine own hand, or just within Alexandria. I believe it destiny that he loves you."

"Headmistress," you spoke, softly.

"No man loves as powerful as he does without such a reason."

It was an idea that you had been familiar with, one that Mr. Grimes had many a times expressed. He seemed ever convinced of it, that your souls were intertwined. That you were the superior one, and he was made as a compliment.

"Seeing you for the first time felt like everythin' in my life shifted, I found ya. You must understand, I was made for you."

"You existed, and the world built me off of ya. I, by some grace of God, found you."

You weren't sure you quite agreed, Rick Grimes was anything but inferior, but the sentiment was all the same. Made for each other.

You often thought back to the day you met him and the feelings therein. Sure, they were surprisingly new and you'd been drawn to him quite quickly. Something of a new, handsome presence you had never quite seen. Always wondering why Judith had chosen you of everyone within the market if it was, in fact, an act of destiny.

There was always the opinion that she saw your berries, to be frank. Or maybe you just looked safe, kind, you did get that a little bit from onlookers.

But there was something in you that said even without Judith, he would have found you.

Perhaps he would've brushed into you, stopping to apologize or maybe you'd drop something after running through the shops (lord knows your hands were often full) and he'd pick it up. There was just the rightness of you and Mr. Grimes as if your souls had been matched -crafted expertly by God.

"I may agree with you, Headmistress," you finally replied.

"You should agree with me," she spoke -frankly, "-you could ask for the most rare sort of gem and I'm certain he'd cross the ocean to find it."

That was the thing, there were no limits for Mr. Grimes, but you wouldn't ask him to pursue them. You were perfectly happy within your the life you lived, whether that was with Mr. Grimes or without.

Though without him, something would certainly feel as though it was missing.

A man willing to go as far as necessary, and a woman who only really needs him by her side. It was an odd sort of match, but you supposed anyone who asked him to reach such bounds would be rather exploitative.

Perhaps the kind that only chase the money.

You were nothing of the kind.

"You know I would not ask him to," you laughed in response, "-I'm perfectly happy with what he gifts me here."

Headmistress's eyes trailed to your basket, poised carefully on the kitchen counter, "He does give you quite quality gifts, does he not?"

You absent-mindedly trailed to it as well, eyes lingering on it -thinking back to that day with a fond smile, "He's quite mischievous in that way, all such expensive gifts are done without my knowledge, so I can't refuse them."

"Would you?" She asked curiously, "-If given the option, would you refuse them?"

You pursed your lips for a moment, thinking about such an idea. Suppose the lavender dress, had he made it personally for you under different circumstances, would you accept it? Or the basket? Or the portrait?

"I suppose not," you remarked -thoughtfully, "-He does it out of his affections, and I believe it an extension of them. I would be daft to refuse such a thing."

"So why do you refuse them, darling?"

"I... I don't know," you hummed, thinking to yourself, "-I'd guess it was something of a confidence issue. I value myself much under what Mr. Grimes tends to give me. Or-"

Headmistress listened very carefully, for once.

"Or I did," you corrected, "-I'm working on such things now. Valuing myself properly, perhaps not as high as Mr. Grimes does-"

"Oh, you'd surely believe you were god," she retorted -pompously, "-I cannot imagine anything quite higher than you in his mind."

You laughed, eyes dropping toward the table by the wall -where the letters lay. You'd set them there in your urge to calm Headmistress. Eyes lingering along each fold and expansive of ivory, your fingers reach out again and you pull them toward your chest.

And on the off chance you don't understand what I mean, I ask, from the depths of my heart, don't leave Alexandria.

Written through all of this was his very own heart extended to you, like an offering. Something so personal, vulnerable, in every single word, you remember the feeling once you realized that.

The realization that you were wrong, that it was an assumption, that he quite possibly wanted you. Did want you, if his words were to be believed. And you believed them.

I fear if I cannot explain it now then, she may never know. And I truly don't wish for it to end this way, or for it to end at all.

I will not stop trying. I can't.

And I ask that you honor that and tell your sister I am still fighting, that I have not run away. Please.

You swallowed, eyes just a little misty. It was the last letter, the one addressed to you, that you held in your hands. Your eyes flickered through the words, reading briskly. It all rang familiar.

My head is a mess as it is, but I find something clears it all when I think about you. I've never been more certain about you. I suppose I'm just afraid I don't know if you are as certain as you once were. I want you to be. I need you to be.

You smiled, a little bittersweet. Your fingers gently rubbed against the ivory -holding it like a prized possession.

You supposed it was.

"I shall intend to keep these," you hummed, briefly flickering over every written word -mindlessly you rubbed at your nose, "-They are quite emotional, but..."

Headmistress's hand found itself on your shoulder, squeezing once solidly. She roamed to your side -reading over your shoulder.

"That one," she said, a little wistfully, "'s rather desperate. A man of his status does not beg, but-"

Your fingertips traced over the ink, absent-mindedly imagining the scratch of his quill. His composure, or what you believed it to be. Was he crying? Was he desolate, desperate as she said?

"-he begged for you."

"Yes," you hummed, biting at your lip -the tears bubbling up your throat (it felt a bit like the first time you'd heard Mr. Grimes wanted to marry you, deliriously happy), "-Yes, he did. Didn't he?"

She laughed, a little weepy too -happy in her own right, "You've got quite the man in the works, my dear."

"I know," you laughed out, placing the letters back onto the table -spinning to her with a smile beyond comprehension, "-I know, Headmistress. Oh, it's just so-"

The bell in town rung, clearing through your head -you stilled.

"Is that the bell? Truly?"

Headmistress nodded -a confused look crossing her face.

"My final dress fitting!" You nearly exclaimed -eyes darting across the space in front of you, "-Oh, I need the carriage if I'm to be on time now."

"Hershel, dear," Headmistress called out, and you could faintly hear his response, "-We need the carriage, immediately. Call for it, will you?"

You had a spare thought, staring at the pile. Suppose you brought them, and after, talked to Mr. Grimes about them. It might answer some of your questions, and there was something in you that wished him to know how you'd read them -if it was the same as how he intended.

You blew a huff through your nose, grabbing your basket off the counter and piling the paper into it.

And with that, you scampered out the door and into the carriage -at the urge of the Headmistress. Without so much as an extra thought, she tumbled in beside you -speaking quickly to the driver.

You found, even though you hadn't invited her, you didn't quite mind.