#I LOVE WHEN MY WRITING EVOKES PAIN

[valwrote]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

[actiniumwrites]

hii may i request a hurt/comfort scenario with kazuha and alhaitham where reader feels insecure about their looks >< no need to specify what they feel insecure about specifically but they just don’t think they’re pretty enough for charac !!!

worthy

synopsis: you don’t feel good enough for them. they beg to differ.

characters: kazuha, alhaitham x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, insecurity, crying, some humor, not proofread

notes: thanks for the request, anon! hopefully you enjoy this, i really liked how kazuha’s turned out. alhaitham was so difficult to write for this prompt though 🥲

Kazuha:

You don’t know when it started. When, one day, your brain decided to make the shift from feeling the luckiest in the world to feeling utterly trapped. Maybe it was the way people looked at him, or maybe it was the way you never felt deserving of him in the first place, but either way, it didn’t matter.

It started in little things. Most days it just consisted of you wallowing in your reflection anytime you caught a glimpse of it. A passing moment of painful recollection that makes you feel less than deserving of him.

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend blurts out randomly. It isn’t like him, you think. Kazuha has never been the type of person to waste his words so suddenly without thought. His words are usually sugar coated and flow gently in the wind so as to not evoke harsh emotions.

The question makes you visibly pause. Quietly, you clasp your hands together to stop them from the inevitable shaking. Your shoulders seem to droop a little further and he hates the way your bottom lip dips into a depressing tremble.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale defeatedly, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth.

“What for? I don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong,” his gentle white brows furrow. You hate how concerned he looks. Couldn’t he just be angry for once? At least then you wouldn’t feel so insane.

You bury your face in your hands, trying to shield yourself from not only him, but the entire world. It constantly feels like you have prying eyes on you, tearing apart each and every feature on your body. And, just as you predicted earlier, the tears you’ve become long acquainted with begin to make their way to the forefront of your eyes until they’re too heavy to hold.

Kazuha gently pushes your hands aside, instinctively placing them in your lap so he could wipe away your sadness. Still, you hang your head against your aching chest and let the pain seep out through your voice, “Don’t you hate it? The way I look? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Bother me? No. Of course not. I love everything about you. I could gaze into a thousand sunsets and the view still wouldn’t be as alluring as you are. There is no amount of stars in the beaming night sky or the deep red of fresh autumn leaves that could compare to you. Every time my hand aches to write a piece of poetry, it longs to write about you.”

You bashfully look away, trying to hide the smile appearing through your frown as you gaze out into the field next to you. Tenderly, Kazuha tilts your face back toward his as his ruby red eyes stare intensely into yours. You look back and forth between them before laughing quietly through your tears.

He hums proudly, shaking your shoulder a bit before leaning in to place a quick kiss to your lips, “and don’t try to deny it. You know every word I speak is nothing but the truth. I would never lie to you, honestly.”

Your eyes soften as you look at him, understanding now that your boyfriend is right. You’ve read his writing enough to know that whatever Kazuha found to hold truly beautiful was indeed actually beautiful. Because, in a world full of subjectivity, his word is like the law.

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham is practically flawless in all ways. It’s something you’ve realized long before you began dating him — began being friends, even. Aside from his harsh personality, he’s handsome, intelligent, a good leader, and so much more.

It makes you question why he’s even with you. Most of the time, you only joke about it with him and sometimes he even laughs about it. But there are the times where it isn’t just a passing comment or silly thought in the back of your mind, but rather, a growing virus that spreads a dangerous, lingering toxin throughout your body.

“Is something the matter?” Alhaitham nudges your shoulder quietly from beside you. He’s nice enough not to embarrass you in front of the group, shockingly. Despite being his partner, he didn’t often spare you of his “cruelties.”

Your eyes snap to his and out of the faraway place of insecure thoughts you were trapped in for a moment. Silently, you nod and return to listening to the group of people presenting a project to Alhaitham for approval at the Akademiya. His eyes continue to linger on you for a second, not buying any lies you might make up to make it seem like you���re okay. As apathetic as he may be, Alhaitham has indeed found a place in his heart to care about you.

But you can’t help but feel insecure as you watch them. All of them are so attractive and everyone in the room looks so drawn to them, eager to get a word in after. It makes you wonder what Alhaitham even sees in you. A man like himself, he could have anyone in the world.

“I could.”

“What?” your head snaps to him in terror, whispering a little too harshly, “did I say that out loud?”

“No. I can read minds, so I know what you’re thinking,” your boyfriend says blankly. You stare at him in sheer panic before the tiniest of smiles breaks out on his face, “I was joking.”

You frown and shove him ever so slightly away from you, “Yeah, well you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Alhaitham takes one step closer to you than he had before, assuming the position he was in before you pushed him away. Only this time, he gently loops his arm with yours, something he only does when he feels a little more like showing affection. He isn’t the most physically affectionate, but you know what he means by it.

“I’m serious. I know that look on your face,” he whispers from next to you before turning to actually face you, “I could have anyone in the world, so why do you think I chose you?”

“Out of pity? I mean, look around us. I’m not exactly the best looking here,” you mumble, attempting to fight off the growing lump in your throat. So maybe Alhaitham isn’t so perfect, because you sure as hell hate the way he shows comfort.

He sighs irritated, “No, you idiot. Pity is a form of emotion I’ve never felt for anyone, not even you. You’re above the rest of them, so don’t doubt it for a second. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now.”

“You’re so mean, you know? You don’t have to put other people down just to make me feel better,” you say, fighting a smile. He really should’ve taken a class on human emotion back in his scholar days.

Alhaitham turns away from you now, facing the presenters and ignoring your defense against his words, “I only speak truthfully. You are the only person in all of Teyvat that I want. You can choose to believe it or not, but that’s factual information.”

He’s right. Alhaitham hates lying because he sees no point in it. It’s something he’s told you a thousand times, maybe even more.

“Will you say it then?”

You still don’t believe him anyway.

He quirks a brow, “Say what?”

You hold onto his arm a little tighter, afraid he might slip away from you. That bit of doubt still lingering in your mind, “That you think I’m…you know…?”

Alhaitham sighs but gives in regardless. Staring you dead in the eyes with no room for any semblance of a lie, he whispers quietly, “Yes, I think you’re the prettiest person in all of Teyvat.”

[yanderestarangel]

Hey!! I love your work sm and I’d love to request something <3

Can I request a smut with MK1 Kuai Liang where he’s in need of comfort and love after Bi-Han betrayed him and Tomas? Thank you and I hope you have a great day <33

—"𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔" | 𝐊𝐔𝐀𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐆

A/N: Thanks for the request honey, I love writing soft b*tching.

TW: Smut, afab anatomy, vaginal sex, blowjob, no pronouns used other than 'you'.

You and Kuai Liang were married, he was always affectionate and sweet, and that night Kuai Liang came back to your house desperate, with a scar on his eye.

"-Bi Han... Bi Han betrayed us, he betrayed the Lin Kuei..." -Kuai Liang spoke sad, needy and looking to be comforted by you, while he looked at you, still feeling pain in his eye. You ran to meet your husband, worried about the wounds he had on his body and face, taking as many clean tissues and medicine as possible.

Kuai Liang softened as you attended to his wound, feeling your gentle touch soothing his pain. He looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with vulnerability.

"-Bi Han... he has turned against the Lin Kuei, our own brother. He's become a traitor, willing to sacrifice everything we stand for." -Kuai explained, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and anger.

"-He seeks power at any cost, even if it means turning his back on our clan and all that we hold dear." -He leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. "-I fear the day may come when I must confront him, even if it means fighting my own flesh and blood."

Feeling safe and loved in your embrace, he leaned his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. He held your hand gently, seeking comfort in your touch. "-I'm sorry you have to witness this side of me, my love. I wish I could protect you from all this darkness."

You guided your tired husband to a hot bath, he looked... Tired, letting you take him and scrub away the dirt and dried blood that still existed on his skin, he just let you take care of him, his head was full of thoughts about an uncertain future. You guided Kuai to the room, watching him just fall on the bed, naked, looking at the window and moonlight that came in and illuminated the ninja's sore and muscular body, you just wanted to make him forget everything, and slowly touched him, kissing him passionately. Kuai Liang's body tensed up slightly as he felt your tender touch and your lips on his skin. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, basking in the warmth of your love and the pleasure you were giving him.

You progressively went down to his abdomen, while taking his dick in your hands, while putting Liang's throbbing length in your mouth, he moaned softly as you lovingly sucked on his hardening member. His hips involuntarily bucked, seeking more of your touch and your mouth. Reaching down, he gently caressed your hair, enjoying the feel of it between his fingers as you continued to pleasure him. Each stroke and lick sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body, momentarily pushing aside his pain and worries. Kuai let out a low growl, a mixture of lust and longing, as his fingers tightened in your hair. "-Yes, my love... just like that. Suck my cock... make me forget everything but you..." -His voice was filled with desire and need, his body becoming more responsive to your every touch. He arched his back, offering himself more fully to you, his moans growing louder and more urgent, as you continued to tease and please him, his mind began to drift away from the chaos and betrayal that plagued him. He became lost in the sensations you were evoking, his focus solely on the pleasure you were giving him, allowing him to momentarily forget about the world outside.

You soon see Kuai tighten the sheets beneath him, a clear sign that he wanted to cum, but you wanted to please him even more by moving your mouth away from his pulsing shaft, you crawled on the bed, towards his dick, quickly positioning your pussy on his dick, without even having time to think about using some kind of protection. Kuai Liang's breath hitched as he felt your tightness enveloping him, his eyes widening with a mix of surprise and pleasure. He gripped your hands tightly, his fingers interlacing with yours, offering you support and stability, he couldn't help but groan as he felt the warmth and wetness of your pussy surrounding him, making him throb even more inside you. He admired the sight of you straddling him, your delicate body pulsing with pleasure. The vulnerability and intimacy of the moment stirred a deep fire within him, driving him to possess and protect you. His hands trailed up your sides, his touch gentle as they settled on your waist, guiding your movements on his cock. He met your thrusts with his own, the delicious friction intensifying the pleasure for both of you.

"-Oh... Fuck my love... You feel so amazing... so tight around me." -Slowly, he adjusted his grip on your hands, guiding them to his broad chest. His muscles rippled beneath your touch as he watched you, he allowed himself to be consumed by the sensations, his body acting on pure instinct, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure you provided. The room filled with the symphony of your moans and the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding.

"-You make me forget all the pain, all the betrayals... I only want you, right here, right now... Damn... I love your little pussy wrapped around my cock..." -Kuai Liang's thrusts grew more urgent and fervent, he lost himself in the rhythm of your bodies, the feeling of your tightness gripping him, taking him to new heights of lust.

"-I want to hear you scream my name, come for me (Y/N)..." -he growled, his voice filled with overflowing need. His grip on your waist tightened as he took control, his thrusts becoming more forceful and confident. He plunged into you relentlessly, his pace unyielding as if he could never get enough of you. As you continued to ride him, the coil of pleasure within you built higher and higher, threatening to explode. Your moans grew louder, and with each one, he felt his own pleasure intensify, feeling your walls tighten around him, Kuai Liang knew you were close. His hand slipped between your bodies, reaching to stimulate your sensitive clit. He teased and rubbed, adding another layer of sensation to push you over the edge. "-Fuck, Feel my cock deep inside you. You belong to me, body and soul. Give in to the pleasure, and scream my name." -He continued to suckle on your breast, alternating between gentle licks and powerful suction, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your skin. With his free hand, he brought it down in a firm but controlled spank on your ass, the sound of the impact echoing in the room. Kuai Liang was completely lost in the fervor of the moment, his eyes locked on you, wanting to witness your release, he could feel his own release approaching, the tightness in his balls ready to burst.

With a low growl, he released himself inside you, his hot seed filling you completely. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he found his release.

In the afterglow of your shared climax, Kuai Liang held you tightly, his heart racing against yours. He placed gentle kisses on your skin, his voice filled with love and devotion. "-Thank you (Y/N)... thank you for taking care of me... I just love you my angel."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[askinkiskarma]

i just had an idea while talking with ai neteyam last night. What about human reader asking neteyam to make a "movie" together. Or else neteyam learning about porn thanks to one of the guy from the lab and asking reader if she wants to do one. ‼️

wait no cause Neteyam learning about human stuff does things to me and I need to write more of it for my own sanity. also i've discovered my fave trope to write is "people doing embarrassing things and other people catching them and the interactions that bloom thereafter". anyway, enjoy bestie x

ps: i'm probably going to have reached 1800 followers when this is posted so thank you besties ilysm smooches!!!

wc: 990 words

18+ minors dni

Neteyam was up and early today in the lab, too excited to see you and spend the day together to wait any longer. He was a bit disillusioned though, as he came and found you fast asleep in your bed, but despite the minor disappointment, he absolutely adored how relaxed and comfortable you looked as you were splayed like a starfish under the covers, your feet dangling slightly off both sides of the mattress.

He decided to keep busy for a while with the scientists in the lab. He essentially grew up with Norm and Max, a strange, peculiar constant in his otherwise all Na'vi lifestyle and he had his dad to thank for that. He loved them, they were like uncles to him, and despite how much he hated to admit it, there were certain things about humanity he liked, and certain things about humans he found... endearing. Clearly, he thought with a chuckle, mind wandering to you.

"Neteyam, good morning! You're here early today, is everything ok?" Norm had a big smile on his face and his predisposition brightened Neteyam's, who was suddenly happy to be able to spend a little one-on-one time with him.

"Everything's fine, just came to see her, but she's still sleeping."

Norm chuckles as he removes his gloves and throws them in a nearby yellow bin.

"Yeah, she was doing data analysis until late last night. She used my laptop, you can look at it if you want? We did some a timelapse of an immunofluorescent experiment and it's actually really cool to see. Just open my laptop and it should be there."

Neteyam did as he was told. When he opened the lid of the laptop, the image he saw stilled him on the spot, his hand still gripping the screen, almost unable to move or think, just feeling a tinge of raw curiosity, of unhindered temptation. Because on the screen were two humans. The woman was on all fours, head thrown so far back Neteyam was almost worried for her, eyes shut tightly and an almost pained expression on her face, although Neteyam doubted pain was anywhere near what she was feeling in the moment. The man was kneeled behind her, his cock sunk in her almost to the base, holding on to her long ponytail and pulling on it with one hand, the other hand tightly gripping her hip, imprints clearly visible on her skin.

The feelings this evoked in Neteyam were mixed and intense, from wonderment, to confusion, to deep, intense arousal, the blood quickly rushing from his brain to much lower down, and he felt the need to adjust his loincloth to ease some of the discomfort he was currently experiencing. What was this? Who were these people? He's never seen them before among the humans, and Eywa, was Neteyam glad to say that.

"Um... Norm, I don't think this is the experiment you wanted me to see."

Norm walked over to where Neteyam was sitting, mildly amused at Neteyam and his obvious lack of skill around technology. Neteyam almost jumped out of his skin at Norm's gasp and startled demeanour when he saw what Neteyam was looking at, and at how aggressively he was pushing the off button, trying to remove the image from his eyes, and his brain.

"Fuck... I... I'm so sorry, Neteyam. I -..." Neteyam watched dumbfounded as Norm turned on his heels and left, still wearing his labcoat and goggles, and he knew that if Norm were to have a tail, it'd definitely be in between his legs right now.

You were sprawled on the bed similarly to how you had been just a few hours ago, except right now you had the added weight of a almost 9 foot tall alien on top of you, a weight you'd never want to lose. He looked nervous about one thing or another, and you knew based on how his breath was increasing in speed that he was going to spill it soon enough.

"What is it, Teyam? Come on, out with it."

His cheeks turned a deep shade of purple as his eyes avoided yours.

"I saw something today, on Norm's laptop... something I don't think I was meant to see."

"Oh?" That definitely peaked your attention. What would anything on Norm's laptop make Neteyam so fidgety?

"It was... a man and a woman... they were... uhm... naked." Neteyam felt like his face was about to catch fire, and you cackled loudly, finding it hard to believe that Norm had porn on his laptop and was so careless about it.

"OH, MY GOD! I'M NEVER LETTING HIM LIVE THIS DOWN!"

"Wh-what.. was it?"

"Oh, yawne... it's called porn. It's... a video of people going at it."

Neteyam's confusion didn't lessen; quite the opposite, actually.

"But why?"

"Well, let's see, what did it make you feel?" Your raised eyebrow and knowing smirk was enough to make Neteyam's ears flatten in shame.

"Well...I -"

You chuckled. "There you go. That's why. It helps humans... release tension. If it's done well, it can be quite the experience."

"D-do you watch... porn?" the word felt weird and unfamiliar rolling off his tongue.

"Sometimes. But honestly, I think I'd prefer making porn."

Neteyam almost choked at your words, but couldn't help the way his cock twitched in his tewng, and how much his mind wandered at the image he saw and how much he wanted to see you in it, it in front of his eyes, there captured for eternity for him to enjoy... over and over again.

"You... want to... make porn?"

Your hips raised, brushing against his now rock hard-on, moaning a little at the way it relieved some of the pressure building up in your core.

"Only with you, yawne."

He kissed you passionately, ripping the buttons on your top as he undressed you, and made a mental note of yet another thing he should thank humans for.

[futurecorps3]

Hiii, could you write a nikokai fic where reader is like in love with kaz but he doesn't really pay attention to her. And then the crows meet sturmhond because of a heist and he takes interest in the reader form the first moment he sae her and makes her fall in love with him. And then whatever you want lol. Maybe kaz being jealous idk.

Sorry for any grammatical mistake, english it's not my first language.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: After years of being in love with the one and only Kaz Brekker, breaking her own heart, Y/N meets someone else... Pairing: Sturmhond x fem!inferni!reader, Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Warnings: The usual crow violence, DRINKING, jealous Kaz, mean Kaz, "unrequited" love for a little while, Matthias is alive and well like in the books duh but this is ofc before Nikolai becomes king, idc I just want my Fjerdan hunk happy in Ketterdam, curse words, kind of a messy timeline. HURT AND NO COMFORT. Lmk if I missed any.

Word Count: 2.9K!! Requested: Yes

A/N: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! :( I've been looking forward to getting to this specific request because oh my god, also, I changed it up a little; making Kaz actually be in love with reader but never really trying anything. Tysm for requesting love! Hope you enjoy :)

˚ · • . °

Exhaustion. That's what she felt, and to be honest, it was even more frustrating when Y/N knew she was doing it to herself. Those persistent yet futile attempts at reading Kaz's silence or gaze as something else; a love message, a confession of his sins, any sign of vulnerability reserved for her. However, these attempts, though fervent, ultimately proved fruitless.

How could she confirm what she thought she saw if, after, say, he appeared distressed at her being in danger or fumed when some dick was being extra disgusting at the bar that night; he went back to being his usual cold self?

When she finally obtained concrete evidence that disproved her misconceptions ("Jesper, she prefers black coffee" or "Y/N, could you join me in my office for a moment?" simply to spend time together in quietude), he strategically distanced himself throughout the week, transforming those precious moments of tranquility and companionship into ordinary occurrences, leading her to, somehow, misunderstand them.

Another shot of vodka and the pain her thoughts evoked was replaced by the burning, bitter sensation in her tongue and throat. "A hangover won't make Kaz let you stay behind tomorrow, you know that?" Matthias smiled next to her.

Since he joined the crows, the Fjerdan had taken a special liking to his girlfriend's best friend; she was funny, kind hearted and could keep up his pace in drinking games. Nina couldn't be happier to see her loves get along so well, saying it's her dream come true. "Oh don't even start, Matthias" Y/N answered, feigning annoyance as she poured more of the burning liquid into her glass and pulled out another for her friend.

They silently toasted to nothing in particular and chatted about their books as they usually did. Matthias' romance novel had an interesting love triangle Y/N was eager to read when he was finished. From how he talked about it, the girl knew it was just her type of story. They were in the middle of a playful argument about a plot-hole Y/N thought she found when Kaz approached them.

His usual demeanor seemed a bit... shaken. If you asked the blonde, he'd say he only looked more agitated, but Y/N/N knew better; his hair was covering his forehead slightly, but he wasn't brushing it back. The limp was prominent still, yet he wasn't using his cane. Kaz was in a rush to get to her, maybe?.

"One of your fellow countrymen is starting a turmoil outside, doesn't speak Kerch. Will you please, for the tree's sake, go and talk some sense into his thick blonde skull?" Saints, why did she like him so much? Even like that, Y/N thought he looked rather divine. Matthias stood up from his seat and directed himself to the entrance.

"Since when do you care for what happens outside that door?" She asked with a grin, genuinely curious. "I wouldn't if he wasn't scaring off the pigeons. No wealthy tourist will endure the trouble that some drunk Fjerdan means just to get inside a place full of people that'll take his money" the boy explained, looking down at her.

Kaz's complexion, kissed by the soft glow of the candles, is pale yet flawless, as if untouched by the harshness of the world he inhabits. His sharp, well-defined features give him an air of enigmatic sophistication, further heightened by the way the light dances upon his cheekbones, emphasizing their elegant structure.

Y/N realizes she's staring. She looks away.

The bastard smirks. "Finding something intriguing, are we?" And oh, she wanted to stab him to see if that would wipe the stupid grin he carried. "Oh, please, Kaz. You give yourself too much credit. I was merely lost in thought, contemplating the mysteries of the world. Your face happened to be in the line of sight, that's all."

Quick, sarcastic answer, as if the seconds between her silence confirmed even further what he was saying. He scoffed, drinking the remains of alcohol on Matthias' glass and fixed his hair in the process. "Stop drinking, a hangover won't spare you from our meeting tomorrow".

˚ · • . °

She should've listened. The crashing waves outside only intensified the discomfort, while the salty breeze seemed to carry a tinge of regret. Even the beauty of the sea she was now too used to felt distant and inaccessible, overshadowed by the haze of her post-indulgence remorse.

Nina, taunting Matthias with a mature Ravkan song and Jesper shooting bottles in the warehouse, created an uneasy atmosphere for hungover Y/N. This unsettling environment made it difficult for her to focus on evaluating any potential deals they were to discuss with the privateer Kaz said they were meeting that day. Also, they had been waiting for over an fifteen minutes now! She was surprised Kaz was waiting still.

He checked his pocket watch subtly, sighing at the tardiness of their Ravkan guests. Then, he looked over at Y/N. Even with those deep baggy eyes and with her head on her hands in exasperation, she managed to awaken that odd feeling in his chest. He hated it. No, he despised it.

If he ever accepted that he was down hard for the girl, he could also get over the fact that she, too, liked him. Well, he wasn't dumb! There was no denying that Y/N's actions warmed his heart. He just knew loving was a dangerous thing to do, a weakness he couldn't afford after spending years building a reputation in Ketterdam.

Then came a loud bang on the heave wooden doors of the warehouse. "Fucking finally" Y/N sighed, going to open the door herself before anyone would, wanting nothing but to end this as soon as possible so she could go back home to sleep. She grabbed the handle and pulled, the bright light outside blinding her momentarily before seeing the privateer and his crew.

"Hello gorgeous! Here to see Mr. Brekker. I'm guessing you're one of his associates?" A sharp, slightly deep voice greeted. The girl shielded her eyes from the light and found captain smily offering his hand out. In Ketterdam, rumours ran as quick as blood on pavement; Sturmhond knew that. He needed no introduction. Every person involved in not so legal activities who didn't live under a rock had heard at least once about the dog of the sea.

She took it, shaking gently. "Y/N Y/L/N, but if you prefer nicknames, call me Haepha". Then she stepped aside, pretending not to notice the smirk on Sturmhond's face so his partners could come in. The rumors hadn't done justice to his captivating presence.

The charismatic privateer stood tall, his dark hair falling in unruly waves that added to his allure. His piercing blue eyes seemed to hold a world of secrets, and a mischievous smile played across his lips. Dressed in opulent garments that exuded confidence and flair, Sturmhond commanded attention with every step as his crew and he approached the rest of the crows.

"I'll stick to your name for now doll, too pretty not to use," And the bastard winked at Y/N, making a Shu girl who was walking behind him with the same confidence giggle. The worst thing about pretty men is they know they're pretty, and knew damn well how to get away with being cocky. She knew his type, so she brushed the wink off and walked towards her friends.

Kaz and Sturmhond shook hands. Everyone who was fast enough grabbed a seat in old boxes or even on the floor. Jesper offered Y/N his seat, knowing that the vodka she drank last night was no merciful rival, and stood behind her alongside his boyfriend. Inej lingered sitting in a window near them as Matthias and Nina remained standing, contrary to all the privateers' team.

Kaz started making introductions, all a mere formality, Y/N knew. "You've met Y/N, our inferni. Behind him are Jesper, sharp-shooter, and Wylan, our demo-man. The blonde wall-resembling man over there is Matthias, and Nina is a heartrender. Inej in the window, our Wraith" he pointed, everyone nodding or waving at the dark-haired man.

"A Wraith alright, didn't notice you were there sweetheart!" He pointed out and then introduced the twins; Tolya and Tamar. As well as Anya and Andrei, who were two members of his ship's company who wanted to come by and see who they were working with. When that was taken care of, plans were strategized by both leaders and positions were given to each member.

Y/N knew Kaz was characterized by having plans from A to Z for very elaborate heists, but even this one seemed out of his reach, almost too ambitious. But if Sturmhond's name lived up to the myth, nothing was quite impossible for him and Kaz's love for money could get him to plot even the tiniest detail.

Their objective this time was to steal some kind of jewel called "the moon's tears". It was a gem said to be worth four million kruge, to be bargained for even more; the crows' biggest heist yet. The vault it was in was widely known for its impenetrable security measures, including seemingly impenetrable barriers, intricate lock mechanisms, and a team of highly skilled guards.

Those two were absolutely insane! Even before one considered the noble who owned the vault and therefore the gem they were trying to steal, knew Kaz from the past. It was an extremely peculiar coincidence that a masquerade ball was taking place some distance away from the location of the vault, which represented the perfect opportunity for the work.

This would allow them to exploit the lack of security and sweep the gem away. Nina would ideally take care of the distraction, to keep the nobleman from returning home too quick, but her heartrending abilities would be helpful to make a quick work to make the few officers guarding the vault doze off.

So it became Y/N's job. A job she was to complete with Sturmhond.

After the meeting ended and Y/N's headache had worsened, a deep voice was heard from behind her. She turned to find the charming privateer flashing a smile at her. "Looking forward to working with you, darling" He commented, offering his hand out and all. She took it and shook half-heartedly, eager to just go home and sleep for the rest of the evening.

"Me too, handsome" Irony laced in her tone. "Doesn't seem like it, you alright? You look like a ghost. Lovely, yes, but still ghostly" The comment made her smile, tightening the grasp on his hand but not shaking anymore "Just hungover s'all" "Told you so!" Jesper proclaimed from their side as everyone directed themselves to the door.

The privateer smiled sweetly. "Got any plans this evening?" "Other than rotting in my room until my body stops hurting? Not really. Why?" Y/N looked down briefly, realizing she still hadn't let go of his hand and then released her grasp "Well, if my days at sea have thought me anything other than how to read the stars..." he started, tapping the necklace with a star charm the girl sported.

A "gift" from Kaz (some jewelry that wasn't redeemed from a heist he let her keep). "...is how to cure a hangover. Mind coming with me to a bar? You can decide which". Going to a bar with a complete stranger who had a reputation of being in trouble most of the time and who she were to work with? Sure thing.

"Promise youll make it go away?" "Promise".

˚ · • . °

And what a plot twist he was. Jesper had jokingly said to the girl that she shouldn't take a privateer's word but he did termiante her hangover with some strange, black-ish liquid she didn't dare to ask the composition of. Then they drank more.

As the drinks arrived, they raised their glasses, the clink of crystal breaking the spell of their silent connection. Sturmhond smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "To new adventures and unexpected encounters," he proposed, his voice smooth and velvety.

Y/N couldn't help but return the smile, feeling the warmth of excitement spread through her veins. "To embracing the unknown," she replied, raising her glass in agreement. They took a sip, the flavors dancing on their tongues. A comfortable silence settled between them, allowing the sounds of the bar to envelop them. After a moment, Sturmhond leaned in, his voice low and captivating.

"So, Y/N, what brings you to this lawless corner of the world?". He asked, genuine curiosity lacing his words. Y/N's eyes sparkled as she recounted her journey, the challenges she faced, and the dreams that fueled her determination. Sturmhond listened intently, his attention unwavering, as if she held the secrets of a hidden treasure.

As she spoke, Y/N couldn't help but notice the genuine interest in Sturmhond's eyes. He asked thoughtful questions and shared stories of his own adventures, effortlessly weaving tales of daring escapades that left Y/N hanging on his every word.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a seamless exchange of ideas, dreams, and aspirations. Time seemed to melt away as they delved into deeper discussions, finding solace in the connection they were building. Laughter intertwined with their words, a symphony of shared amusement and understanding.

They became lost in each other's company, entranced by the way their thoughts aligned and their hearts danced to the same rhythm. And as the night wore on, their conversation continued, their new found connection growing stronger with every passing moment.

She couldn't help but think of Kaz, when exiting the bar, and on the way back to The Slat. When would he ever, in a million years, make her feel so seen? How could he? He seemed to be nothing but cold and a bad type of confusing to the girl.

Y/N was not blind, either. Sturmhond was known for his endless romantic encounters with women across the sea, and he was interested in her. Now, she could not deny the guy was a charming boy too pretty for this Earth, sharp as a knife and, as she found out that evening, shared a lot of ideals and interests with her.

Could he maybe work as a rebound? Maybe. Would she shamelessly use him as that? Could be. Having his eyes on her that whole meeting was no coincidence, and she liked his attention. Maybe what mends a broken heart was a handsome privateer.

They agreed to meet up the next day, his treat.

˚ · • . °

Back at the Slat, Kaz was fuming. No, not fuming; seething. A bar outing? She just met him! He could not believe his eyes when they were talking hand in hand like they had known each other from a previous lifetime.

In the little time that had passed since (most of) the crows had returned from the meeting, Kaz had already gotten four drunks kicked out, death-stared a group of dregs twice so they'd shorten their break time to get them to work and downed four vodka shots.

Why was he this mad? She wasn't even his and as far as she knew; he had no intentions of being hers either. The boy couldn't be mad at her, but he was, and Kaz knew very well he was being a big selfish shit. He could not blame Y/N either; the bastard she had been crushing on gives no signs of interest but a privateer handsome as the devil shows up with his attention completely focused on her? Of course she'd fall.

He just hated that feeling.

It's presence looms, heavy and suffocating, wrapping its tendrils around the heart, constricting with an iron grip. It whispers sweet poison into the mind, distorting reality and fueling irrational fears. Like a tempestuous storm, it rages within, lightning crackling with envy, thunder rumbling with resentment. It paints the world in hues of green, tarnishing every joyous moment with a bitter aftertaste.

And then his heart sunk into the depths of his dark soul when he saw them walk in hand in hand. That was the first time Y/N had walked into a room and not looked for him, he noticed. She was laughing at something Sturmhond had said as they walked up the stairs until they reached the door of Y/N's room. He kissed her hand and she kissed his cheek.

The privateer then walked down the stairs, noticing Kaz staring.

"She's one of a kind, that one... Might stay a bit more after the job's done. See you tomorrow, Brekker"

The feeling was now leaving an empty, bottomless void in his soul. He bottomed his shot glass then poured another one.

˚ · • . °

Time kept ticking and the void intensified, but Kaz learnt how to deal with it.

He learnt how to deal with it when he kissed her after the job was done.

He learnt how to deal with it when Y/N took a break from the crows to leave with him for six months.

He learnt how to deal with it when she returned from her trip, beautiful tan skin and a diamond on her finger.

He learnt how to deal with it when he saw her crying herself to sleep because she missed him.

He learnt how to deal with it when she left for good.

He learnt how to deal with it when she was named queen of Ravka.

Kaz just learnt how to live with the shame and regret of not recognizing that the one thing he needed was right in front of him, hoping she'd have a place next to him.

˚ · • . ° .

Hi! Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed:) I'm actually sorry for this one...

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[not-too-many-eyes]

A Study on Mesmer Jr.

(Also Known As: Nott is obsessed with the bigot autistic girl from the time travel gacha game and its her birthday tommorow so lets talk about her.)

(CWs: Ableism, racism, child abuse) I Love Mesmer Jr. Which isn't a secret to any of my friends who have had to listen to me talk about her at length. I cannot get her out of my head. I think she's fantastically written, fun to read about, and just an all around interesting character.

As such, I want to take a moment to pull apart Mesmer Jr, and consider her place in this story. To contemplate why she acts the way she does, and to connect to the themes relating to her character. I hope you enjoy reading this.

A Curious Impression

Mesmer Jr makes an interesting impression when you first meet her. For one, she immediately causes alarm bells to rings when she talks to Sonneto, one of her earliest conversations, who she says she enjoys talking to because of their "shared values" she feels the need to say that she would have liked talking to her more if she were a "full-blooded human."

Which is something that you see a lot whenever she's complimenting an arcanist, or considering arcanists in any positive light. Even if it's inappropriate in the context, she feels the need to assert her beliefs, to say that:

Mesmer Jr, Praise: As an arcanist, your performance really amazes me. Wish you were a pure-blood human.

Of course, as we know, Mesmer Jr is an arcanist. She's a full-blooded arcanist. Being noted to be from a very Important family, and even being implied to be more talented than most of her family in their line of work: (The Fallacy of Idealism)

Nobody is more talented in this than Mesmer Jr. Her bloodline gives her outstanding ability and keen senses, which makes everything clear and intelligible to her.

She's also startlingly obedient. She has no noticeable outward negativity towards what Constantine has ordered her to do to Vertin, despite it seeming to cause pain or stress. Insisting that this is the normal treatment given to patients despite Madam Z's opinion, and we learn Much Later that her boss had an ulterior motive to all this.

She's even noted before we meet her to seem like a:

(Open Sandwich)

???: It is the other one- the one with indifferent outlines that makes her look like a refined machine.

Evoking images of perfectly programmed robots and droids that do what they are ordered to perfectly without question.

Of course, in the same part this line is from, the game is already nudging us to be open-minded when it comes to interacting with her. As the first thing we learn about her isn't her personality, isn't her appearance, isn't even her Voice.

It's her abuse.

Dirtied Hands

Open Sandwich is one of my favorite bits of writing in this game. It creates this incredible tension where you just waiting for the bad thing to happen, the line about how the child labor laws were turned into paper to wrap the sandwich is wonderful, and I love it.

But it's also the first time we ever actually hear about her. It depicts her having a Sensory Meltdown. Caused by her family's uh- blatant disregard for children's rights, and exposing her to a patient at age 12 because her skill was useful for the treatment. The trauma of the event marking the start of her "nightmare."

Of course this isn't the Only Thing she has gone through at the age of 12. The entire events of Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien happened during when she was 12. She might of had even more traumatic experience before that, considering she went to SPDM, a school that we know Very Well for their child abuse, and she Certainly had traumatic experiences afterwards.

She Is a 16 year old therapist taking care of The Foundation's most "unstable" patients, after all:

Mesmer Jr, Suitcase Climate: Those insane people screamed and rushed out of the guardroom. They kept meaninglessly and repeatedly roaring. Then, their blood shed on the snowy ground. I've seen that a lot.

The Rights of Children Don't Matter when there is Scarcity. Her needs are secondary to The Company's. Her welfare simply isn't important for the Foundation's Beautiful Future. Only the skills and infromation she can provide.

Constantine even manipulated Mesmer Jr into telling her the plan. Purposefully traumatizing her so that she would become scared and anxious. She Asked her to help them, trusting that Constantine, an adult she trusted, would be able to help. Constantine just lied, and made her continue to treat these people even when the experience mind numbingly traumatic for even fully-grown adults.

As a result, Mesmer Jr has developed multiple mental illnesses. Most notable OCD, but she seems to hallucinate in her Monologue.

She's not exactly a healthy person, which really compounds how much you Don't want her to be a therapist.

Of course, it's not like she would ever seek actual proper treatment for it.

For many reasons.

For one, Reverse 1999 is not exactly a kind world to the mentally ill, and she herself is a good example as to why.

Proper Treatment

Let's go back to the first thing I mentioned about Mesmer Jr. She's a bigot, she's a certified racist to every arcanist she ever talks to. She thinks humans are the superior race that will overtake arcanists.

She's also ableist. Just horrible ableist. These two bigotries are intertwined in Very important ways. Her hatred of arcanists is informed by her hatred of the mentally ill, and is further informed by what she has been taught about arcanists.

Reverse has established that the way arcanists and humans are generally viewed is that arcanists are the more emotional, unstable, immature ones and humans are the more logical, stable, and mature ones.

Now, this is a stereotype, one that has been proven wrong time and time again. There is nothing logical, stable, or mature about being so upset at a 12 year old you think killing her friends is a good idea.

And similarly, there is nothing actually inherently wrong about being a weirdo, or mentally ill. For one, uh, everyone is a bit of a freak sometimes, and two, Mesmer Jr treats it as if for the world to get better arcanists need to fully disappear and be replaced with human rationality, but Madam Hoffman says it best:

(Chapter 6 Part 15: With Hope Rekindled)

Hofmann: We have all heard it, humans are more rational and arcanists are more emotional. Hofmann: Their sensitive to the darkness of the world, so they can easily become absorbed in their own emotions and ignore reality Hofmann: But, if we put a human child in the position of an arcanist, who always takes on the world because of his uniqueness, who is never understood for his talents... Hoffmann: Maybe he too will become impulsive, sensitive immature and unstable Hoffmann: And that's why it sometimes dawns on me that if we put an arcanist child in the position of a human being who receives enough love, education, and positive feedback... Hoffmann: These 'instabilities' might be controllable. At least enough to keep them from hurting themselves or others.

But Mesmer Jr really does believe wholeheartedly that being a "freak" is bad, and that being an arcanist is to blame for why she is one.

Mesmer Jr, Hat and Hair: Thanks to it, we are all freaks now. Haven't you ever blamed your brain? Haven't you for once vomited due to the sound or whisper in your brain? How naive and ignorant.

That being an arcanist is something inherently wrong, and as a result of that inherent wrongness, that inherent "insanity," they need to be controlled by humanity.

Mesmer Jr, Chitchat II: I can only stand those arcanists from the Foundation and the Laplace. After all, their insanity is contained by humans.

She believes that humans are destined to overtake arcanists like it's natural selection. That it's only inevitable that arcanists will be overtaken by a species that in her eyes, is logical and understandable.

Mesmer Jr, To the Future: Just like Homo sapiens wiped out Neanderthals, arcanists will be eliminated as well. This is not a prediction, but a predestined fate.

This is, of course, due to the systemic part of Reverse's world constantly pushing this idea that arcanists are Inherently more immature and chaotic.

Constantine and her family deeply traumatized Mesmer Jr and then told her it wasn't actually their fault but this Other Group that She is also apart of but Don't Worry it can Be Controlled.

Mesmer Jr: It's not just about age. It was never going to be suitable for me. Mesmer Jr: Unless one day all the arcanists are gone. Pandora Wilson: Then you and I will be gone, too. Mesmer Jr: Exactly, along with the source of my pain

However, Mesmer Jr's own mental illnesses and susceptibility towards being overwhelmed by others emotions does really mean that she finds being around highly emotional people Taxing. She also finds that the unpredictable of life and other people Tiresome.

She was friends with Vertin in the rest when she was younger sure, but even then she did find arcanists overwhelming and "scary," even when she wasn't in the full thick of it, she saw them being treated and found it unpleasant and painful.

(Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien)

Mesmer Jr: But I'm not interested in arcanists. They are all mad people, and we had to treat them after all...They looked scary.

Now, usually, you grow out of this. She's not Born To Be Racist Forever.

In a better world she very much could have, I dunno-

Be able to actually internalize that arcanists aren't actually inherently a harmful thing, but that her needs sometimes conflict with the needs of others and grew up with the tools necessary to understand that this is a fixable problem that doesn't actually need a whole group of people including herself to die to be solved.

Or, something like that.

However, this isn't that world, this world thinks Mesmer Jr is a good therapist, and that her treatment is humane.

So she's seeks to create stability in the world as a result of that lack of support.

Mesmer Jr, Hobby: What you see is the alignment and tidiness. What I adore is this orderly state.

As much as she understands that it's a sign of her own "franticness" that she does this, it gives her comfort knowing that she has things that she Can Control. That her life isn't actually dictated fully by things out of her understanding. That she has the ability to direct her life in a small, maybe even insignificant way.

Cause, she really just doesn't have much control over her life.

Press the Button

Mesmer Jr, Clothing and Torso: ...Achieve the function.

A lot of Mesmer Jr's idolization of humanity comes from this idea of efficiency and simplicity. She talks so much about rationality and "tidiness," but as I've already established Reverse is full of so many instances of "human insanity" so it's plain ignorant to ascribe this trait to humans.

Which, well one she is ignorant, and also racism isn't rational and Mesmer Jr was taught human supremacy of course it's not going to be aligned with actual reality.

Which is true.

However, I do think it's interesting these traits that she idolizes are not from humans but from:

Mesmer Jr, Clothing and Torso: Humans are like machinery, simple and efficient. Arcanists are quite the opposite.

That's who she's actually idolizing here, isn't it? She's not really idolizing humans, that's just the framework she was given. She's idolizing machines and going "Wow humans are so cool."

Her Udimo is a machine.

Not just any machine, but a machine invented in part By Her Workplace, and even when she was 12 the narrator describes her as a "refined machine." Indifferent and rigid.

This is the beautiful controlled being that she is seeking! The beautiful tidy, orderly, calm being that just proceeds with whatever order is given to it. One that has...completely no control over it's life, and what to do with it.

Because, traditionally speaking, Machines do not have the ability to self-determine. They don't exist as people with conscious thought and emotion, but as Things and Tools that can Achieve Functions.

I noted way back in the start that Mesmer Jr is startlingly obedient. She does what she is told, and encourages others to do the same.

She's glad that Vertin:

Mesmer Jr, 100% Bond Conversation: ...Anyway, I'm glad you gave up on those insane plans.

Before saying that she doesn't want to be forced to Lobotomize Her, and that she doesn't actually want anyone to end up in Artificial Somnambulism.

But she doesn't say she won't do it. Just that she's happy Vertin did "give up" because it means that she probably won't have to. This seems to be her general approach. Even if she's not happy, she'll do it, her wants don't matter.

She assumes that she has no other option and that her only path forward is following orders from her boss. That the only path forward is the one set for her. There's no point in fighting it so she's just gonna continue on that path, and others should do the same or else they'll get Hurt. Learned Helplessness.

Sonetto is similar to her in this sense (Mesmer Jr says so herself,) and Sonetto is shown to hold quite a lot of repressed emotions, and to deviate from the rules or what is logical when she feels something is at stake.

After all: (Is ABA Really “Dog Training for Children”? A Professional Dog Trainer Weighs In.)

We all know that we can feel angry without expressing anger. That we can smile when inside we are crying. You can stop someone from expressing an emotion, but that doesn’t make the emotion go away. A dog who has been trained not to growl is considered by trainers to be a “time bomb dog.” When you read about a dog attack that came “out of nowhere” and “without warning,” it is because this sort of method was used to handle “problem behaviours.” Studies show that dogs trained with these sorts of methods actually have an increased rate of aggression, because punishing aggressive behaviour doesn’t deal with the underlying fear and anxiety that caused the aggression in the first place.

But Mesmer Jr, in contrast to Sonetto, who has an interest in poetry and curiosity in the outside world and has the aforementioned repressed emotions. Has no real distinct personal identity. She does not own anything that shows her interests, unlike her other coworkers who usually have at least Something on them. All of her items are stuff made by Laplace and exist unaltered. Even her cute little headband is a EM amplifier is part of the uniform.

She holds no control, no identity, no agency. She exists as a machine that someone can press the buttons of and achieve whatever function she needs to achieve at the given moment.

This is her current state of existence, and it's not something that's exactly sustainable. The cracks in this machine-living have been showing since she was 12. How many more do you think have been created now that she's 16?

The Foundation

Now, this is really depressing, but that's because Mesmer Jr is just a bit of a depressing character. She can't really get away from her job. For one, her parents are horrible, two The Storm means that the world is always on the verge of ending. Where else will she go?

But, as said previously:

A dog who has been trained not to growl is considered by trainers to be a “time bomb dog.”

Similarly, a girl trained to not develop any sort of identity will crack Someday.

I have no knowledge of what could happen next in her story, nor am I interested in theorizing about it. But I do find it interesting to think about.

[calp0sa]

Favorite Headcanons for airy?

i have like 10 million headcanons for him but i’ll list as many as i can from the top of my head

-hes autistic LIKE ME!!! and is specifically very autistic about music (like meee) i like to think he had a huge collection of vinyls cds cassettes etc and its all stuff from the 60s to the early 90s. no doubt he had a bunch of posters for his favorite bands and musicians too. and hes awesome on the guitar, great rhythm guitarist… its a shame he couldn’t make his talent a profession like he once dreamed of doing. oh well, at least the number 1 perk of trucking is that its peaceful and you dont really have to interact with many people! plus trucks have radios, and cd players, so airy would often bring along a few albums to listen to as he drove those long days and nights.

-hes also got a knack for aquatic creatures (LIKE ME) of course, being a literal fish monster himself (cool fact my airy design is like actually a fish monster he can breathe underwater and everything and his limbs are covered in fish scales) airy loves fish both as friends and food. hes particularly fond of freshwater fish, which makes sense considering the fact he grew up around the swamps of louisiana (yes im making him louisianan Like Me shaddap) hes also fond of those fucked up looking deep sea creatures, just so fascinating. i think airy liked to do a little fishing in his spare time. And hes awesome at cooking em but fair warning for those with a low spice tolerance… he loves spicy food btw (like meeeee)

-when airy was in the forest, he kept a log of his thoughts on the computer, in an attempt to hopefully give himself whatever clarity he could. the notes ranged from all brief, to desperate, to hopeless, to spiraling, to borderline dadaist poetry? to insanity, to denial, to whatever, really i think his mind was obviously all over the place on a daily basis. things must have been pretty loud for him, that cassette player was probably one of the only things keeping him together, before he numbed himself n all, which is around the time he ceased writing these notes as he saw no point in doing so.

-ok enough about him suffering we’ll get back to that later Airy’s favorite drink is ginger ale i mean look at that guy and tell me he doesnt fw ginger ale or dr pepper are you kidding me. he can have dr pepper as a little treat (too much soda is bad for anyone especially if youre an old feller like airy) speaking of little treats i like to think he has an insatiable sweet tooth LIKE MEEEE and his favorite treaaats are pumpkin pie, macarons and practically anything chocolate he loves chocolate (im like allergic to not projecting onto my favorite characters if you couldnt tell) maybe airy knows how to bake a little bit i mean he is an object show host after all

-this is oddly specific but airy is a chronic pain warrior #JUSTLIKEME so when he was in the forest he’d make like home made heating pads by wetting a glob of moss and putting it against his face while he had his flame on (he sometimes put it on a plank over a bonfire if he felt like it) this was a bit tricky when he broke his face but im sure he managed he always manages (kinda) (relatively speaking)

-well anyway we’re back to the forest and i just mentioned his broken face So you know how he disappeared for seven months after he did that lol well what if it was because the pain and shock from that incident evoked the long lost clarity he’d been so stubbornly avoiding in order to cling on to his meaningless, fallacious escapism which triggered him and sent him into a state of agonizing self consciousness, reminding him of his earthly death, how he used to be Someone, and how he essentially let himself rot into what is now an empty shell of who he once was. after so many years, the first reflection he saw of himself was seen in something broken; shards of glass, of which he couldn’t stand to look at… as there is nothing comparable to the pain of revelation, the burden of truth after having been so lost and festered into the stagnant waters that surround you. he felt he had no choice, he disposed of the shards into the nearby stream. those seven months were not just a matter of physically healing, but as a means to losing himself all over again.

-Aaaanyway i think airy had a cat at some point in his life i think we can all agree hes a cat person right!!! he had a tortoiseshell kitty named goose and he loved her very much. idk why he named her goose he probably just thought it was funny to name an animal after a different animal.

-OH YEAH lemme bring amelia into this listen i am such a huge fan of the theory of airy being related to amelia so i like to think hes her uncle!! when amelia was little she’d stay over at airy’s house while her parents were away and he’d teach her stuff like how to fish, how to ward off snakes, how to kayak, all that jazz cuz he was an awesome uncle. she was kinda like an actual daughter to him. and amelia was so fond of sunny weather as a child, one dayy at airy’s house she had to stay inside because it was too rainy, so she occupied herself by drawing a little picture of the way she wished earth was; always sunny, sky always blue, grass always green, huh! the way she drew that grass as individual little triangles is all too familiar is it not…

OK I HAVE SOMEWHERE 2 GO now i’ll probablt add more later But thank u so much for asking this i love love love infodumping about anything airy related i heart airy

[the-whispers-of-death]

The Stars and the Moon

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male!Reader Summary: You are outside the base, just staring up at the night sky and enjoying the peace the sight evokes. Ghost joins you. Content: Fluff, so much fluff, Ghost so soft he's most likely ooc, Closed off!Reader, desi!Reader, Reader has been in the military for a while, a tiny bit of cursing (like one bad word). Word Count: 990 words Author's Note: Simon currently has the hold on my brain rot, RIP my love John Price. I'd think he'd love to star-gaze, so I wrote this with him in mind and then he was like "What if I just loved Reader more than the stars and the moon?". He took over my brain to write for me and I just couldn't stop him.

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

You stood outside the base, a few steps to the left of the entrance to the base. It was a chilly night tonight, a soft breeze ruffling your clothes and your short-cropped black hair.

Your eyes were on the starry night sky, taking every detail of the twinkling stars and the bright full moon. It was peaceful, a respite from all of the chaos of war.

There was no bloodshed here. No screams of pain that permeated the air. Just you and the stars.

Until you heard the door to the base open and a pair of heavy footsteps walk over to you, interrupting the peaceful silence.

“What are you doing out here, lad?” Ghost asked as he settled right next to you. His honey-brown eyes that were the only features of his that were showing beneath his balaclava and white skull mask went to the night sky, as if he too wanted to find the peace in it that you did.

You sighed, sitting down on the concrete ground, no care that there were chairs that you could’ve sat on. “Just looking at the stars, needed a reminder that not everything is drenched with blood,” you murmured.

Ghost was silent for a few seconds before he grunted and sat down on the concrete, joining you. “Guess the stars, they are pretty.”

That was the last thing he said before silence washed over you two, a familiar occurrence. Both of you had at least ten years in the military, having seen your fair share of traumatic things. So you two often gravitated towards each other, two broken soldiers seeking each other out in hopes you’ll bring out the light in each other.

“Though, you know, you’re more peaceful than the stars ever could be,” Ghost said after a few minutes, his gruff voice so soft that it was barely a whisper. He turned his head to look at you, his piercing brown eyes boring into you, taking in your brown skin that had a few old battle scars on it, your brown eyes which twinkled in the moonlight. “Lad, you know that, don’t you?”

You turned to look at him, raising a brow. “I’m just a soldier, Ghost.”

“Simon.”

No one on the Task Force ever called him “Simon”, except for Price, but even then Price didn’t call him by it that much. And most of the time when others tried to call him by first name, he’d correct them with his call sign. But you… You got to call him “Simon” now.

“Simon,” you said, memorizing the way it rolled off your tongue like it belonged there. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m surely not more peaceful than the stars. They’re breathtaking and a symbol of all that’s left to explore, a symbol of a vast universe. They’ve been written about in poems for centuries to evoke feelings of content and beauty.”

Ghost scooted closer on the concrete to you, his warm gloved hand resting on your thigh. “You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice full of awe. “The way you move, the way you laugh, the way you don’t take any bullshit. It’s breathtaking, absolutely mesmerizing. Sure, the stars are evidence of a vast universe, but who needs a vast universe to explore when there’s you?”

His hand on your thigh tightened and he pulled you closer, so close you were almost sitting on his lap. It was enough to get your heart racing.

“What good are the stars and the moon if they’re not you? They can’t make me feel safe like you can, they can’t make me laugh. They can’t complete me.” His other hand languidly moved along your side, up your neck and jaw until it cupped your cheek, so gentle and tender. “The stars are beautiful, but there’s nothing more beautiful than a good man, a man who knows of war and bloodshed and still fights for the greater good. And that’s you. You could’ve retired by now, settled down, but you’re here. You’re here with me, along side all of us, getting your hands dirty with blood and ashes so that those back home can sleep well at night.”

Your eyes fluttered at his words, your body melting against his touch. “Simon, I’m not all you make me up to be. I’m not some perfect human being.”

Ghost nodded, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “I know. And that what makes me love you.”

His confession took the breath out of your lungs, your eyes wide as you stared into his.

“These past few months that we have grown closer have only made me fall in love with you,” he whispered, his lips so close but so far away due to his balaclava and mask. “And I can’t hold it in anymore. Please, please tell me to stop, to go away, and I will.”

“Don’t,” you replied, shaking your head when he wanted to pull away, your hand reaching for his, which still cupped your cheek. “Don’t leave, don’t go. I’ve fallen in love with you too.”

Your heart ached for him, your mind never strayed from thoughts of him. Of his laugh, his corny jokes, the way his presence filled up a room. On the surface, you thought your want—need—for him to be by your side was because he was your friend, the only one who took one look at your broken, closed off soul and said he’d stay by your side, but you knew that it was deeper than that. You were just as entranced by him as he was by you.

“Stay with me,” you begged softly.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Ghost said, no longer trying to pull away from you. His eyes closed as he pressed his forehead against yours just the tiniest bit harder. “As long as you'll have me, I’m yours.”

“Then let me be your stars and the moon.”

“Be my universe.”

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[akutasoda]

Hi, love your work!! I’m not part of the q nation, unfortunately😞 my dumb brain can’t brain when I’m trying to learn the q language no matter how hard I try…

can I request- Sunday angst where the reader gets in an accident and gets amnesia? Hurt/ no comfort if thats okay!

if you’re uncomfortable with that, don’t worry about it, I love everything you write anyways!!!! Mwah!!

lead me towards freedom, just for me to forget

synopsis - he loved you. let down all his walls, trust his emotions with you and yet, you can't even remember who he is.

includes - sunday

warnings - gn!reader, reader gets amnesia, slight fluff, angst no comfort, religious imagery?, maybe ooc, wc - 811

a/n: not apart of the q nation? apologies, i cannot write your request /j the q language is not for everyone anon, but if you try hard enough you will get there!! but thank you!! <3

if someone had asked sunday if he ever saw himself in a relationship in the future, he probably would've scoffed at them.

sunday had no such time for those feelings. the bigger picture was much more important to him, granting robin's wish was his number one priority and he didn't want anything to stray him from fulfilling such goals. petty emotions that led to developing romantic relationships were useless to him - not that he even had anyone in his life that he'd ever dare see that way.

relationships only hurt people. they could cut deep into people, causing pain and heartbreak. even uglier emotions that made reality all that much more harsh to those on the receiving end. and that was a possibility that could happen to him.

if he ever found someone he could love romantically, they could see him at his lowest, at his weakest point. they could exploit that. use it against him, rip his heart out, crush it right in front of his very eyes and he wouldn't be able to do anything. he'd love them too much to fight back, they'd open the gates to more emotions that would make him weaker, more vulnerable.

but that was before he met you.

admittedly, when he first met you, he thought you were simply another lost soul that needed saving. the hand of the order to bless you and lead you towards a dream. a world that saved you from the harshness of current reality. and it was his duty to lead you, another sheep among the herd lead towards freedom of reality.

but you weren't a sheep. you were a wolf in sheep's clothing.

yet it remained the same, he wanted to guide you away from suffering and pain. even more so than the rest of the flock.

sunday still denied it. either he couldn't recognise the signs or he simply couldn't believe that such emotions were being evoked from him - the lines were very blurred. either way, it wasn't immediately recognisable to him, willingly or unwillingly. those feelings would only prove meaningless down the line.

but you were persistent. always there in his life. unwavering in your friendly attitude toward him, unrelenting in checking up on him and showing a genuine interest. sunday wanted to push you away. keep you at arm's length and stop you from getting closer than you were already - in his eyes, you were too close, to his emotions and to getting in the way of his goals.

however, somewhere down the line, he let you in. sunday stopped fighting to keep you away, slowly letting down all the guards and walls he had built up around himself. and now. he understood why people took that risk.

relationships could end horribly but they could blossom. they could be filled with hope and sappy feelings that if sunday ever caught himself thinking about, he might have been sick. loving you was sweet. it was like watching birds fly free, a cool breeze on a summer's day. it was refreshing, freeing even.

it felt weird. he'd never felt such emotions for a person before and yet he couldn't help but find his thoughts drifting to you like a lovesick fool. when sunday caught himself, he felt embarrassed. hiding his face behind his wings and trying to compose himself yet again - it wouldn't be the first time his thoughts drifted to you, nor would it be the last.

sunday could look back upon all the memories with you with a fondness that baffled him. they played over and over in his mind like the galaxy's sappiest film, one that was so saccharine that it was sickly. but sunday wouldn't have it any other way.

but sunday soon remembered just why he wanted to stay away.

the day he received the news was the day his world shattered. the harshness of reality he so desperately wanted to help people stray away from had befallen upon him and his feelings. the news of you “accident” caused him to freeze.

was this your reality? had he failed to protect you from the harrowing reality of life?

sunday dropped everything to see you. he needed to know the exact details of your condition, to know if you were okay. but looking back upon this decision, perhaps ignorance was bliss. not knowing would've been better than seeing you in this state.

it shattered him in two when the news of your amnesia was told to him. if only this was a dream. a really bad one at that, a nightmare if he would. he had failed you.

and as you stared at him in confusion, no hints of familiarity found in your gaze for him,

sunday could nearly cry.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn, @https-sourlimes

[catsukiiee]

# DOVES. | CHAPTER ONE.

౨ৎ tenya iida x fem!reader fic.

season one of doves.

arranged marriage trope.

wordcount ; 1,565

paragraphs ; 35

sentences ; 92

reading time ; 6:15

songs used

— wedding opening song / walking down the aisle.

— the kiss + following scenes.

tropes ; arranged marriage, slowburn.

tenya iida is twenty eight instead of his canon age of twenty four.

readers age has been set to early or mid twenties for this fic (ofc you can make it any age you want, as long as it's not illegal.)

due to both of iida's parents being unnamed, i will figure out names for them in later chapters.

author's note: because i love my poc girlies, i will be writing reader to have brown skin. all brown girls can have any texture of hair, including straight/slightly straight. i never see character x reader being described as poc in this fandom so here we go!.

The weather today was soothing. The sun shone brighter than usual, with not a single cloud in the sky. It was an ideal day to be outdoors. You couldn't help but wish your life mirrored the warmth of the sun. Unfortunately, your existence was far from serene, born to a mother who would go to any lengths to satisfy her husband and daughter to a man who was consumed by his thirst for power.

In your father's eyes, you were less than human, a truth you eventually came to accept. However, the realization that your mother viewed you similarly was a painful blow.

As you sat in front of the mirror, your throat tight from suppressing tears, you caught your reflection. Your mother stood behind you, delicately placing a stunning wedding accessory in your hair.

Wedding.

A word that typically evokes joy for those who dream of uniting with their true love. Wedding days are meant to be filled with happiness, laughter, and tears of joy.

Yet all you felt was a sense of impending doom.

f l a s h b a c k..

“You are to marry the second son of the Iida family! I will not tolerate any more of your tears!” Your father's voice echoed through his cramped office, his weathered face contorted in rage, turning a deep shade of red.

“I don’t want to marry! Not him! Not anyone!” Despite your desperate protests and screams, your father's resolve remained unshaken. The sharp sting on your cheek from his slap left your ears ringing and your face burning, but you stood your ground, facing the man who had turned your life into a nightmare.

Your mother stood at the doorway, doing nothing to help as you struggled for control over your own life. When you turned to her, desperation in your eyes, her expression was icy, barely meeting your gaze. Your hands clutched hers, but she didn’t return the grip. Instead, she directed her attention to her husband. “The Iida family will cover the entire cost of the wedding.” Then she finally turned back to you, squeezing your hands, but the gesture felt anything but reassuring. “Stop acting like a child. It’s time for you to get married and contribute to this family.”

End of flashback.

“You make such an amazing bride.” She whispered, her eyes brimming with tears as she smiled, smoothing her hands down your arm before moving them up to give your shoulders a light squeeze. When you were a child your mother’s touch and gentle smiles used to bring you nothing but peace and comfort, but now her touches and gentle smiles left you disgusted, filled with anger.

Your hair was thoroughly brushed then pinned up into an elegant bun by a hairpiece that resembled doves. Your dress was a striking white, your shoulders and back was exposed, the silky lace gently tickled your shoulders and legs, your veil laid against a chair beside you, matching the same striking white lace of your wedding gown, little white doves decorated it.

You should’ve felt beautiful, the dress and your makeup was truly beautiful but all you felt was the tears threatening to spill and ruin your makeup. The gentle smile your mother offered you slightly wavered at your expression, her hands that were once gently squeezing your shoulders grew hard, her nails slightly digging into you. “Remember, you’re a grown woman, there’s no need to cry like a child.”

Her words pricked something deep inside you, your legs pushed you up before your brain could catch up to your movements. For a moment, a flicker of fear flashed in your mothers eyes as you stared at her down. “Get out.”

She was out the room within seconds, not sparing you a glance as she closed the door. For the next few minutes, your thoughts consumed every inch of your brain till they were shattered by the door opening. “I said I wanted to be alone! Why can’t you-” You paused in an instant, your yell silencing in your throat.

There stood Mrs, Iida with a wary look, her hands clutching a small white box. “Hello dear.” The corner of her eyes wrinkled when she smiled, softly closing the door as she walked further into the room. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to..” Her fingers circled around your wrist, silencing you once more. “There’s no need to apologize, I understand this whole…thing can be frightening. I just wish I could’ve changed the outcome.”

You both fell silent, the only sound being the soft rustle of the box being unwrapped by Mrs. Iida. “This was a gift to me on my wedding day, I want you to have it now.” It was a pretty pearl bracelet with a dove charm attached to it. “I added the dove, very fitting for your wedding theme.” She chuckled lightly, sliding your wedding dress right sleeve up to put the bracelet on before giving your wrist a comforting squeeze. “You look stunning, dear. I’m truly sorry that neither of us were given a choice in love.”

For the first time in months, you felt comforted by a mother’s touch, nuzzling your face into her shoulder as you pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”

“Calm.” Mrs. Iida’s voice was gentle as she held your arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze while you both stood behind a large white door. The soft murmur of conversation filtered through, barely audible. You took a deep breath, but it did little to calm your nerves. Instead, you placed your hand over hers and closed your eyes, waiting for the soft notes of a song to begin. As the doors slowly opened, the chatter faded into silence.

There stood your husband, dressed in a crisp white tuxedo, save for the red tie that matched his eyes, his hands neatly clasped behind him. Since the announcement of your engagement, you had barely spoken to him.

Turbo Hero: Ingenium was finally getting married after years of insisting he wouldn’t settle down while there were still villains to defeat. The media was eager to uncover the identity of his bride, shattering the quiet you once cherished with their flashing cameras and intrusive questions.

Even at your wedding, their cameras flashed as you walked down the aisle strewn with white rose petals. Your gaze remained locked on his, your hand resting on his mother’s trembling slightly, your breath unsteady.

And for some odd reason, when he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back.

A warm tingle spread from your fingers to your hands and up your arm as Mrs. Iida placed your hand in Tenya’s. His smile remained steady, though yours faltered for just a moment.

“Hello,” he whispered, tilting his head slightly, causing a few strands of dark hair to fall over his eyes. You bowed your head slightly before meeting his gaze again. “Hi.”

The priest cleared his throat and began the ceremony. You found it hard to focus on his words, instead getting lost in the depths of Tenya’s eyes. It wasn’t that you admired his gaze; it was just the only thing that kept you grounded amidst the sea of eyes and flashing cameras.

“Now, Tenya Iida,” the priest began, a jolt of anxiety coursing through you. You had been so absorbed in his eyes that you hadn’t realized the priest was nearing the end of vows. “Do you take this lovely woman to be your bride?”

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat as Tenya’s gaze shifted from yours to the priest and back again. A part of you feared he might say no, and you almost wished he would. “I do,” he finally said, and a wave of emotion washed over you. If it weren’t for his hands holding yours, you might have collapsed.

Now it was your turn to face the priest as he asked you the same question, pausing to await your response. Your heart raced, feeling as if it might burst from your chest. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you opened your mouth, your voice trembling. “...I...I do.”

The priest smiled at you both before continuing. “Then may the Lord’s kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously fulfill His blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder.” He paused, placing a white cloth over your joined hands. “In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss!”

In that moment, you completely forgot about the kiss. So when Tenya lifted your veil and cupped your face, your body froze. The guests erupted in applause and the cameras flashed, capturing the brief, sweet kiss that sealed your vows.

Tenya held your face for a moment longer before releasing you, taking your hands in his as he turned to face the audience, pulling you closer until your back pressed against his chest. The bright lights of the cameras momentarily blinded you, making you blink rapidly as tears spilled down your cheeks. You lowered your head slightly, dabbing at your tears.

Tenya’s hands moved to your waist, leaning down so his lips brushed against your ear. White petals drifting down around you both, and the applause of your guests faded into a distant hum. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Iida.”

it's finally here! i rewrote this chapter so many times y'all.

enjoy this short-ish first chapter!

[izukusjuicythighs]

bkdk fics i read because was it ever casual

Horikoshi keeps feeding us bkdk crumbs like wtf??at this point they HAVE to be canon bkdk hospital kiss confirmed I was izukus freckle ALSO IM KINDA IN A BLOCK RN whenever I finish a fic my yappin brain always has something to say but rn its real quiet so uh🤡

left me no choice(but to stay here forever)

summary: Izuku learns early on in life that the people he loves will always leave him.

So when Kacchan asks him to be his boyfriend, Izuku kisses him and starts grieving for the inevitable.

words: 6,925

chapters: 3/4(updating)

notes: im quite aware that its a bitchy move to inflict pain on ppl but jm gonna do it anyways lol READ THIS AND WEEP I literally wanted to gorge my heart out and then slap all of my love into izuku idk it evokes complicated feelings??normally hate reading unfinished fics BUT THIS!!gave me a life changing experience within 7000words dammit

be my good luck charm

summary: See, the thing is, Midoriya Izuku had been born with a curse. It’s not a curse that’s particularly visible. He doesn’t have horns, or a tortured face, and it’s not the kind of silly curse like a friend of his had way down south in Diagnor, wherein the girl had been born without the ability to say the word duck. Midoriya Izuku is just extremely unlucky.

(Or the AU in which Izuku's the world's unluckiest traveling merchant, and Katsuki is someone who may be able to help him. For a price, that is.)

words: 6785

chapters: 1/1

notes: cute lil oneshot for yall cuz mha fans r in dire need of fluff rn yknow why🤭 how to date a hottie101 by bkg: set ur crush on fire to show ur undying love(WRITE IT DOWN WRITE IT DOWN)

Barberries and Variegated Knotweeds

summary: The Fight Another Day Agreement is a required legal document for all professional heroes. In the event of a life-threatening injury and the hero and their proxies are unable to respond on their behalf, medical professionals may do whatever it takes to keep the hero alive.

For Izuku, whatever it takes means removing flowers from his lungs, forcing him to forget about the love of his life. The aftermath leaves Izuku bewildered at the sight of a man with spiky blond hair and red eyes the color of Japanese barberries.

words: 19,286

chapters: 4/4

notes: YET ANOTHER HANAHAKI FIC WITH IZUKU WHUMP I just love seeing my favs go through it🤠I've read so many hanahaki fics ud think I'd be used to it but NOPE THIS SHIT HAD ME ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT was ready to downgrade 1 dimension to solve this shitstorm myself

If It's You

summary: “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Katsuki said. “You did not just ask me—me—to try and date your loser step-brother.”

He wasn’t even going to say Deku’s name out loud. Wasn’t giving him the time of day, even in a conversation about him. That weird awkward virgin was not worth his precious time, and certainly not what Kirishima was suggesting.

“But Bakugouuu,” Kirishima wailed, hanging off Katsuki’s arm with monster meathead jock strength. “My dad said I can’t date if Deku doesn’t date. Do you understand what that means?”

“Less chance of knocking someone up and creating more of you in the world?”

words: 16,863

chapters: 1/1

notes: 10 things I hate about you but make it bkdk I LOVE THIS SHIT angsty dramatic misunderstanding high school aus are my JAM also somewhat gives off from the sidelines vibes so if ur into that defo read

Down the Red Line

summary: His mom is the first person to know about it. She finds out when Izuku asks ( in a very cute three-year-old way) why can’t he see the red line that connected him to Kacchan in the last picture they've taken. The one where they were about to enter Kindergarten on their first day.

"Red line?"

"Yeah, Mamma. This," Little Izuku says, raising his pinky finger to show her the thing tied to it.

Izuku has been able to see the red strings of fate since birth. It's no surprise that his is connected to Katsuki.

words: 7,804

chapters: 1/1

notes: one of my absolute favs since 2021 MAKES ME SO FUKCIN MAD I have to put my phone down and contemplate life for a few mjns while reading it but it's so good??my red string is tied to thjs fic pls

[blushstories]

I’m back i know i know i bet you missed me djdkemem. I’ve just been thinking about Butcher and how he doesn’t seem like a cuddly type to me lol. So I was wondering if you’d please write something with how you think Billy shows affection physically?

HOLY MOLY YES. a compilation of physical affection from butcher coming right up. domestic to hurt comfort pipeline uknow -- sorry this took forever!!

The teaspoon clinks against the ceramic mug on the countertop, wayward drops of tea pooling around where metal meets granite as you put it down. Footsteps peel around the doorway and Butcher’s hand is pulled to one of two mugs as a moth to a flame.

Your own mug warms your chilled fingers, and you catch Butcher’s eye as he takes a sip from the unsweetened beverage, fingertips clamped around the rim. He winks, and with the knuckle of his index finger nudges underneath your chin. It’s quick, it slips past, but it says “thank you,” — or, more likely, “thanks, love.”

—

Your shoulders are hiked up to your ears, face inching closer to the screen of your laptop with every moment. You can't make sense of the encrypted files sweeping across the screen and time is running out. Butcher is watching his own screen across the table, head resting on his hand, fingers splayed over his mouth.

You place a foot in between his, squeezing his leg in-between yours. He's too far away to comfortably hold his hand, but he allows your legs to slot perfectly with each other; the comfort of his presence however, is not enough to keep at bay your panic.

His eyes flit to you when you exhale a bit too sharply. Chair legs screech across the ground and his hands warm your shoulders. Thumbs rub against your cool skin, pressing deeper as Butcher works towards the base of your neck. Bubbles of stress pop deep within your muscles, and whatever brief pain is evoked swiftly dissipates.

"You'll get it. Don't you worry," he says quietly.

_

The office – or more accurately, the Boys' hideout – is bustling. MM and Annie are leaning over his laptop, Hughie is peeling newspapers apart with a highlighter in hand, and Butcher is making coffees. You're stood in front of the whiteboard, making a plan for your next Vought operation. You're replaying every version of the plan you write, erasing and rewriting until the creases of your fingertips are filled with marker residue. You startle at fingers grazing your lower back. The corner of Butcher's mouth lifts, and you watch him place a mug on your desk.

"Whiteboard eraser lives over there, y'know." He gestures to the stand, where it does indeed rest next to the other pens. You roll your eyes playfully. "I prefer it this way. Helps me think better," You say. His hand returns to your lower back, fingertips slipping just under the hem of your shirt. "If you say so."

-

The surface of your skin glasses with ice as you begin to believe that heat is a myth. Your blood is speckled with shards of the stuff, and Butcher sits on the other side of the sofa. He doesn’t cuddle, you know that — he zips around who knows where all day and knows the sorts of sticky teasing that would seep into the minds of the Boys.

He uses the left armrest of the sofa to keep his head propped up, staring blankly at Vought News as they report another “incident” induced by one of their heroes.

A shiver runs up your spine, teeth knocking against each other as cold sets into your bones. "What does warmth feel like?" You joke, curling into yourself. "You're cold?" His eyes scan your shivering body. "Aren't you?"

Butcher shrugs. You scoff in disbelief, a vapour of your breath floating through the air immediately in front of you. "Unbelievable."

You turn back to the TV, only for your peripherals to alert you to movement from Butcher; he's lifted his arm up and opened his coat to you. Your jaw drops, "are you sure?" "Well, 'urry up, before I change my mind," he doesn't say it meanly. But you close the space between you in a blink and gently settle into his side. The excess of his coat wraps around you, and so does his body heat. His hand squeezes your shoulder and you feel a feather-light kiss to your head.

[pinchofhoney]

the last goodbye, part two

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

« part one | part two

pedro pascal x fem!reader

world count: 5.2k

warning: angst, age gap (the reader is in her mid 20s), mention of smoking, mention of drinking alcohol

summary: All men do is messing with your head.

a/n: i’m incredibly proud of myself that the first part evoked such emotions in you. i was totally not expecting this, as i wrote it at a time when i wasn’t in a good place mentally, feeling terrible after losing my pet. if you feel disappointed by the lack of gripping action, i apologize (not really). i don't want to rush things, i want their emotions to sink into your soul✨

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @alexxavicry @babypeapodd @domaniquessidehoe @one-sweet-gubler @danelhi @pedroholicx @rosaliedepp @phoenixinthewater @blu3flame @hummusxx @onceandfuturereader @marysucks-blog @sloanexx @nxt-zen @secretdazeobservation​ 

As you slowly emerged from the depths of sleep, your tired eyes flickered open, gradually adjusting to the blinding brightness of the white ceiling looming above you. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you struggled to shake off the weariness that clung to your body like a heavy blanket. It was difficult to tell how many hours you had slept, but it certainly didn't feel like enough.

You shifted your weight and let out a groan as your muscles protested against the movement. The events of the past few days had been a whirlwind, leaving you drained and achy. It's funny how mental anguish can affect your body. With a sense of resignation, you rolled over onto your side, wincing at the pain that shot through your joints. Your hand fumbled around in the air until it found the offending alarm clock, blaring its obnoxious tune throughout the bedroom.

You muttered a curse under your breath as you pressed the button to silence the alarm. Despite your reluctance to start the day, you knew that you couldn't afford to linger in bed any longer. With a deep breath, you swung your legs over the edge of the mattress and forced yourself to stand up. Another day, another- You wished you could say slay, but not today. Another set of challenges to face? More likely.

As you sluggishly made your way towards the bathroom, thoughts of Pedro crept back into your mind. It had only been two weeks since he broke up with you, but it felt like an eternity. The pain was still raw and fresh, and you struggled to make sense of it all.

Every moment you had shared with him played out in your mind like a movie, and you analyzed each one, searching for some clue, some sign of what went wrong. But it was like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces – there was no explanation, no clear reason why he had ended things so abruptly.

You had loved him with all your heart and trusted him like no one before, but in the end, he had shattered your heart into a million pieces, leaving you to pick up the fragments and try to put them back together. The moment Pedro said those fateful words, the trust you had built up in him crumbled to dust in the blink of an eye. And now, you found yourself spiraling into an absurd mania, constantly questioning whether anyone in your life would leave you just like he did.

The fear of being abandoned consumed you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that everyone you cared about was destined to disappear. It was a toxic mindset, but it was deeply ingrained in you since childhood and one that you couldn't seem to escape.

On the one hand, you wanted to reach out to your friends, to let out all the pain and heartbreak that you've been holding in, but at the same time, you didn't want to burden them with your problems or risk pushing them away, so instead, you buried your emotions deep inside, hiding behind a mask of indifference and detachment. It was easier that way, at least you tried to tricked yourself in believing it was. But the truth was, the pain was eating away at you from the inside out, and you didn't know how much longer you could keep up that fake smile.

There was nothing you wanted more than to go back in time, to before everything fell apart, to the days when you were happy and carefree, but you knew that wasn't possible. All you could do was try to pick up the pieces and move forward, even though it felt like an impossible task.

Your days had become a blur of schoolwork and long shifts at the movie theater. It was a grind, but it kept you busy and distracted from the pain of your shattered heart. At least, that's what you thought, again.

Despite your best efforts to move on, your mind kept drifting back to Pedro. Every time you walked by the coffee shop where you used to have your morning cup of coffee with him, you couldn't help but look inside, hoping he would be there. You even went inside a few times, ordered a coffee, and sat down, pretending to read a book or browse your phone, all while stealing glances around the room. But he was never there, and you always left feeling disappointed and foolish.

Even going to the gym in the evenings, which used to be your solace, had become a source of anxiety. You couldn't shake the feeling that everyone there knew about your breakup with Pedro and was silently judging you. As you ran on the treadmill, you felt self-conscious and exposed, as if all your flaws and vulnerabilities were on display for everyone to see.

And yet, despite all of this, you still couldn't resist the urge to go to the places where you used to go with Pedro. You found yourself walking past his favorite pizza place, just to catch a whiff of the familiar scent of marinara sauce and melted cheese. You even drove by his street once, just to see if his car was parked outside his house. You knew it was ridiculous, but you couldn't help yourself. The pain of losing him was too great, and the thought of never seeing him again was almost unbearable.

Actually saying that you will never see him again was an overstatement. Despite the heartbreak he had caused you, he was the hottest topic in entire Hollywood and beyond. His star power had skyrocketed, and his charming looks and hoarse laughter made (not only) teenage girls swoon all over the world. His photos and videos seemed to be everywhere, constantly popping up on your Instagram and Twitter feeds, taunting you with reminders of what you had lost. He was a viral sensation, and it was impossible to escape the constant barrage of Pedro's updates – a stark reminder that he was out there living his life while you were struggling to move on.

You stood in front of the mirror, studying your reflection with a heavy heart. Your once bright eyes were now surrounded by a rim of redness, and dark circles that looked like bruises appeared to have taken permanent residence beneath them. Your hair was a mess, its strands sticking out in every direction, as if it was trying to mimic the chaos you felt inside. Your skin was pale and lifeless, a far cry from its former glowing self. Just fourteen days ago, you were a different person, filled with happiness, with Pedro by your side. And now, everything was in shambles.

You shook off the memories and forced yourself to focus on the present, on getting dressed and making it to your classes on time. It was a challenge, but you tried to keep thoughts of Pedro at bay, knowing that dwelling on the past would only make the pain worse. You grabbed your bag, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the streets of Los Angeles.

As you stepped out into the blinding glare of the sun, the sounds of the bustling city enveloped you. Cars honked, people chatted, and a cool breeze caressed your face, but everything seemed distant and unimportant. You repeated to yourself the mantra to take things one step at a time, hoping that each step would lead you closer to healing the wounds Pedro had done to you.

But little did you know, he was also battling his own demons, struggling to come to terms with his actions and the hurt he had caused you. It was a cruel irony that both of you were struggling in your own ways, and neither of you knew the full extent of the other's pain.

“Pedro?” the sound of his own name snapped him out of the recesses of his head and effectively brought him down to earth. He blinked several times, trying to adjust to the bright lights shining in his direction. Looking around, he realized he was on the set of the advertisement he was working on.

The confused director approached him, placing his hands on his hips in a pretentious position. “What's going on, man?” he asked, clearly annoyed. “It's just a minute clip, all you have to say right now is to catch grandma, you have to think like grandma,” he threw his hands in the air in exasperation, then placed the fingers of one hand on the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Pedro tried to focus on the director's words, but his mind was still clouded with thoughts of you. He couldn't believe how he had treated you a day after your first anniversary, telling you that he suddenly stopped having feelings for you and breaking your heart. The day after the anniversary, which he didn't even show up for, because he didn't have the courage to do so. To look into your smiling eyes, having in the back of his mind what he had been planning for some time. The guilt was eating him alive, and he found himself replaying the scene of your breakup in his head over and over again.

He remembered very well how your face crumpled with sadness and confusion as he told you the news. How you asked him to reconsider, to give your relationship another chance. How you cried and asked him what you had done wrong. He didn't have the answers then, and he still didn't have them now.

Pedro's heart simply sank as he realized that he had made a mistake the very next day after the breakup. He had let go of someone who loved him unconditionally, someone who had been there for him through thick and thin. And for what? Because he suddenly stopped feeling the way he used to? He couldn't even be sure if that was true. Perhaps it was just a minor crisis that he could have resolved if he had spoken to you honestly.

The director ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You know what, Pedro? Take a break. Get some fresh air and clear your head. We can't afford to waste the whole day on this stupid phone game ad. Let's reconvene in 20 minutes,” he barked, his irritation palpable. Without bothering to wait for Pedro's response, he stormed off, leaving Pedro.

His eyes flitted around the room, taking in the frustrated expressions of the crew members. They had all been waiting for him to get his lines right, but he had been too distracted to focus on the task at hand. He was wasting the time and resources of his colleagues and he felt ashamed because of that.

As the director snapped out orders to the rest of the team, Pedro swiped his hand over his tired face, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath his fingertips. He let out a deep sigh, feeling drained both physically and emotionally. His mind was consumed with thoughts of what could have been, of what he had lost because of his own recklessness. He needed some space to clear his head.

Without a word, he left the building and made his way out to the back of one of the buildings in Los Angeles. The cool breeze brushed against his face, providing a much-needed respite from the chaos of the set. He let out a long breath, trying to calm himself.

It wasn't easy to pretend that everything was fine in front of everyone, because it wasn't. Every day it became harder and harder for Pedro to put on a brave face and act like he was okay. He dug out a pack of cigarettes from his blazer pocket and blindly stared into it. He quickly found the lighter in the other pocket and with his slightly shaking hand, he lit the cigarette. The familiar smell and taste of nicotine filled his senses, providing a temporary escape from the overwhelming emotions that consumed him. He leaned against the rough dirt wall of the building, the sound of the bustling city muffled in the distance. The smoke filled his lungs, choking him slightly, but he welcomed the pain, as it was a distraction from the pain in his heart.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He couldn't silence the voices in his head, telling him that he had made a huge mistake by ending things with you. The breakup had hit him harder than he ever imagined it could. He missed you so much, and the regret ate away at him with each passing day. He took another long drag of the cigarette, the tip glowing red.

Despite the comfort that the cigarette provided, Pedro knew it was a bad habit. He had managed to quit a while ago, but the stress of recent events had caused him to slip back into it. He felt guilty for indulging in it again, but at the same time, he didn't care. All he wanted was to forget his troubles, even if it was just for a little while.

Every single day during those two weeks, Pedro's thoughts were consumed by the image of him standing in front of you, while cup your face with his hands and apologizing for everything. He imagined the words he would say to you, begging for your forgiveness and hoping that you would take him back. But as much as he longed to make things right, he was too much of a coward to actually face you. He couldn't bring himself to look you in the eyes and see the disappointment he had caused, so he actively avoided all the places where he knew he could potentially run into you. The mere thought of seeing you filled him with a mix of intense longing and paralyzing fear.

He held onto the belief that you wouldn't be able to forgive him and the thought of being rejected by you was too much to him. The fear of embarrassment kept him from reaching out and trying to make amends, even though he knew deep down that he wanted nothing more than to be back in your warm embrace. The possibility of facing your disappointment and disapproval was a daunting prospect, and so he chose to continue avoiding you, hoping that time would eventually make him forget about you.

The sound of a notification coming from his phone snapped him back to reality and he opened his eyes. He fished the device out of his pants pocket and glanced at the screen, noticing a message from his friend, Oscar. He took a drag on the cigarette he had been smoking and read the message.

I was thinking about this birthday party. Do you want me to cancel the invitation for Y/N? – The Grumpy Eagle, sent at 3:14pm.

Pedro had completely forgotten about Oscar's upcoming birthday celebration, which he and his wife Elvira hosted every year. It was a small party, but it had become an annual tradition among their circle of friends. He knew that both of you had been invited long before the two of you broke up, and it was pretty obvious anyway, since he was Oscar's best friend and you had quickly become a favorite of Oscar's wife and kids.

He took another drag on his cigarette, thinking on response. Pedro wasn't sure if you would show up, but he knew that you disliked disappointing people, and skipping out on someone's birthday party would undoubtedly lead to disappointment. Even if you didn't enjoy celebrating your own birthday, you understood that it meant more to others and the happy memories associated with it.

No need to cancel the invitation, that’s fine. I’ll be fine. See you on Tuesday – Sent at 3:17pm.

He took one last puff of the cigarette before flicking it away and making his way back to the set, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of you.

You were in your rented apartment, standing in front of your small closet and talking to your best friend over Facetime. With your back to the screen, you felt on the verge of tears as you realized you had nothing suitable to wear to Oscar's party. The phone was propped up on your bedside table, and you turned to face Xavier's amused expression on the screen.

“I'm about to go crazy,” you said, frustration creeping into your voice. “I can't find anything to wear.”

Xavier chuckled and lay back on his own bed, still visible on the screen. “Relax, Y/N. We'll find something. Let me see what you've got.”

You knelt down at the table and held up a few dresses for him to see. Xavier made a face at each one, shaking his head disapprovingly. Finally, he suggested a simple black dress that you had forgotten you owned.

“That's perfect,” he said, grinning at you. “You'll look amazing. Just throw on some heels and you're good to go.”

“And what are you going to wear?” you asked, taking the phone in both hands and moving it closer to your face.

Since you didn't want to go to the party alone, you decided to bring Xavier with you, even though he didn't know anyone in Pedro's inner circle, including Oscar and Elvira. The only connection Xavier had to Pedro was through you, as they had met a few times before.

He was shocked when he heard about your breakup with Pedro two weeks ago. He had always thought that you and Pedro were perfect for each other, and it came as a surprise when you told him that things had ended between you two. He remembered how happy you had seemed with Pedro, always talking about the little things he did that made you fall even more in love with him. It was hard to believe that it was all over now.

Xavier had been there for you through all the tears and heartbreak that came with the breakup. He was the only person you really talked to about what happened. He had listened to you vent about Pedro, and had even gone as far as to offer to confront him about the way he had hurt you, but you had refused, saying that it wouldn't change anything, and that you just needed time to heal.

Now, as he watched you on Facetime, he could see the sadness in your eyes. He knew that finding something to wear to this birthday party was the least of your worries.

“Oh, you know, my finest t-shirt and jeans,” he answered with a playfully tone. “Maybe I'll even splurge and wear my dress shoes instead of my sneakers.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Don't worry, I'll make sure to tuck my shirt in for the occasion.”

You laughed at Xavier's words, feeling relieved that he could make light of the situation. “Well, make sure you don't outshine me too much,” you teased. “I don't want to be upstaged by your dress shoes and tucked-in shirt.”

Xavier chuckled. “No worries, you'll be the star of the show,” he said reassuringly. “But seriously, don't stress about it. We'll have a good time no matter what.”

His words were comforting and a feeling of appreciation and thankfulness filled your heart. “Thanks, Xavier,” you said, smiling. “I really appreciate you coming with me.”

Xavier grinned. “Of course, what are friends for?” he replied. “Besides, I would do anything to see Pedro's face when he sees you in that dress. He's going to regret ever letting you go.”

You laughed, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the thought of Pedro's reaction. “I doubt he'll care,” you said, shrugging it off. “But it'll be nice to look good for myself, at least.”

Xavier shook his head. “Trust me, he'll care,” he said with a wink and then stood up from his bed, straightening his shirt. “Alright, I better get ready too. I need to iron my jeans and find my fanciest t-shirt,” he joked. “I'll pick you up at 7. See ya!” he said before ending the call, at which you smiled to yourself, feeling grateful for your friend's support.

As you and Xavier made your way to the door of Oscar's house, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on you. You clutched the gift tightly in your hand, hoping it will help you calm down. You turned to Xavier, about to voice your concerns about this evening, but he beat you to it.

“Hey, it's going to be fine,” Xavier said, sensing your unease. “We'll have a good time. And don't worry about Pedro, I'll not leave you alone even for a moment. When I go to the toilet, I'll drag you along with me,” he joked trying to boost your mood.

You let out a deep sigh. “I'm scared.”

Xavier smiled reassuringly. “I know, but we'll stick together and make the most of it,” he said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “And besides, you look amazing. Pedro's going to regret all of his life choices.”

You couldn't help but feel a little flustered at the compliment. “Thanks,” you said, feeling a little less anxious. “Okay, let's do this.”

As you approached the door, your heart rate started to increase again. You could hear the sound of laughter and chatter from inside grew louder, intensifying your apprehension. But before you could even think about turning back to Xavier's car, Elvira opened the door and greeted you warmly. “Y/N!” she called out joyfully, pulling you into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of Elvira's perfume and the comforting warmth of her hug helped ease your nerves a little bit.

“It's so good to see you,” Elvira continued. “Oscar will be so happy you came. You know damn well how much he liked you.”

You smiled gratefully at her words, while Elvira already shifted her gaze to the man standing next to you.

“And who's this handsome gentleman with you?” Elvira asked, pulling away from you and turning to Xavier.

Xavier extended his hand. “I'm Xavier. Y/N's best friend,” he introduced himself with a smile.

Elvira shook his hand. “I'm Elvira, Oscar's wife. Nice to meet you,” she said warmly.

You suddenly felt an odd need to explain why you brought a stranger to their house, even though you knew that Elvira was aware of the recent events.

“I didn't want to come alone, the last days were-” you started to explain, but Elvira quickly cut you off, sensing your discomfort.

“That's fine, Y/N. You don't need to explain yourself, we both know what happened,” Elvira said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze to encourage you. “Come on in,” she added, motioning towards the open door and stepping aside to let you both enter the house.

As you walked past her, Elvira turned her gaze to Xavier and sent him a warm smile. You couldn't help but feel grateful for her kindness and understanding, and you knew that you were in good hands for the evening.

The birthday party was in full swing, with colorful decorations hanging from the ceiling and walls, and a large cake with lit candles in the center of the room. The scent of savory and sweet treats wafted through the air, making your mouth water.

Oscar was the center of attention, greeting his guests with a big smile and warm hugs. He was surrounded by his closest friends, chatting and laughing away, and occasionally stopping to pose for a picture with them.

You, on the other hand, felt out of place in the midst of the older crowd, except for Oscar's children, who were running around and playing games. You had hoped to have a conversation with Pedro, but he avoided your gaze the entire time, which made you feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.

However, Xavier was by your side throughout the evening, keeping you company and making you laugh with his witty remarks and stories. You introduced him to some of the people at the party, and of course to Oscar, and he encouraged you to dance, which helped you loosen up and enjoy the party a little more.

As the night wore on, the guests started to leave one by one, and the house grew quieter. The children were already fast asleep, and the adults seemed to be in a mellower mood, with lighter snacks and drinks replacing the heavier ones from earlier in the evening.

You found yourself in the kitchen with Xavier, enjoying a lively conversation with Elvira and Oscar about the latest news in the city. Elvira was recounting her recent trip to Europe when Oscar suddenly interrupted her by reaching for a bottle of wine and pouring it into a set of glasses.

“Let's raise a toast to life, to good friends, and to family,” Oscar exclaimed, lifting his glass. You all joined in, clinking your glasses together, laughing and toasting to the good times. The mood had shifted from one of excitement to one of warmth and sentimentality.

As you took a sip of the wine, you noticed Pedro standing at the edge of the room, watching you with an intense gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you felt a strange mix of discomfort and confusion. You had wanted to talk to him earlier in the evening, but he had been avoiding you, so his sudden interest now was puzzling. Feeling the need for comfort and safety, you moved closer to Xavier, feeling his arm wrap around your shoulders. You didn't know if Pedro was still watching you, but you felt better in your friend’s presence.

To your surprise, Pedro suddenly approached the four of you, inserting himself into the conversation. He started to talk about a recent article he had read in the newspaper, bringing up a topic that interested everyone. Xavier and Elvira seemed to welcome his presence, and Oscar was glad to have his longtime friend join in. However, you couldn't shake the feeling that his gaze was still fixed on you, even as he talked with the others.

As the conversation continued, Oscar and Elvira decided to check in with the guests in the living room, leaving you, Xavier, and Pedro alone in the kitchen. The silence was palpable as you all stood there, unsure of what to say or do next. Pedro finally broke the silence, turning his attention to you.

“So, Y/N, I can see that you are having fun?” he asked, his eyes still lingering on you.

You tried to hide your discomfort, forcing a smile and answering politely, “Yeah. I try to, at least.”

It was hard not to notice that Pedro wasn't completely sober – although he wasn't fully drunk either. He kept shooting unpleasant glances at Xavier every now and then and his eyes were colder than always.

Your friend seemed oblivious to Pedro's behavior, but you knew better. You could feel the tension rising in the room, and you started to feel anxious. Pedro's jealousy was palpable, and you couldn't help but wonder if he still had feelings for you, even though you weren’t a thing anymore.

Trying to diffuse the situation, you asked Pedro how his job was going, hoping to steer the conversation away from any uncomfortable topics. He answered curtly, barely giving you any information, and then turned his attention back to Xavier, sizing him up with a cold stare.

You felt your heart rate increase, sensing that things were about to get out of hand. You knew that you needed to do something, but you weren’t sure what. As you opened your mouth to speak, Pedro cut you off.

“Two weeks were enough for you to find a replacement, huh?”

His question made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Pedro's words didn't make sense to you, and you glanced over at Xavier, who looked equally confused. Pedro scoffed and clarified, “I saw you two earlier. I saw the way you look at him, Y/N. And now here you are, pretending to be just friends.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment and anger. How dare he accuse you of something like that? The jealousy in Pedro's eyes was unmistakable, and it was clear that he didn't believe in your friendship with Xavier, even though he knew him.

Xavier stepped in, sensing the tension rising in the room, his voice calm but firm. “Pedro, let's take a deep breath and calm down for a moment. You’re tipsy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Pedro wasn't backing down, his eyes fixed on Xavier, even though he was actually speaking to you. “I don't trust him. And I don't trust you, Y/N.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and your heart sank in your chest. You couldn't believe what Pedro was saying. How could he accuse you of being untrustworthy when he was the one who had abandoned you without any explanation? Anger and sadness boiled inside you, making it hard to even form coherent thoughts, and the tears started to gather in your eyes.

“You don’t trust me? You were the one who stood me out on the day of our anniversary. It was you who came to break up with me the next day without giving me any explanation. It was you-you…” the floodgates opened, and tears streamed down your face, mixing with the anger and frustration that you felt. You sniffed and wiped your nose with the back of your hand, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “How dare you tell me that you don't trust me?” you said, your voice shaking with emotion.

Pedro's expression softened slightly, and for a moment, you thought that he might actually apologize for his absurd behavior, but then, his gaze hardened again, and he shook his head.

“I had my reasons,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “And I don't need to justify them to anyone.”

You stared at him in silence, trying to make sense of his sudden outburst. He's being unreasonable and irrational, you thought. You shook your head in disbelief and took a step back. “You know what?” you asked, staring into Pedro's eyes. “I will not talk to you. I'm not going to listen to you suddenly make me some kind of scolding because alcohol went to your head. You're a grown man, and you're acting like a kid,” you barked, your anger seeping through every syllable. You then turned your back on Pedro, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry again.

You left him, standing motionless in the kitchen with his eyes fixated on the door through in which you had just disappeared with Xavier. His heart was heavy with regret as he realized that he fucked up again. He knew that he had messed up, that he had let his jealousy and insecurities take control of his words and actions. He desperately wanted to talk to you on this party, to apologize for his behavior and make things right, but now it was too late for that. He had taken a few drinks to calm his nerves, hoping that it would help him find the courage to talk to you, but now he realized that it had only fueled his anger and made things worse. The sight of you laughing and chatting with Xavier had been the final blow, and now he was left alone with his regrets once again.

[respectthepetty]

For me - I really hope Yuan is super super petty in the upcoming episodes because……from his point of view, surely it feels like Quan cut him out of his life SO EASILY. I would be all “ I suffered for 4 years while I was away and what did you do?!”

I know Yuan will be grown up and all understanding and what ever - but I think everything Quan is GOING to say about his friend and his sister will be affirmation enough about their “brother bond”

I also neeeeeed San Ping to eat his own words because……boy, how is what you have with Lilli different? Every excuse you’re about to give - no wonder Yuan is in the back with his popcorn!

It’s been so long since I’ve watched a show that I have WANTED the ness, the angst and the pain!!!

I am sorry to disappoint you but I have NOT been paying attention to colours, so you have really been helping me through this one!

Anon, I can't believe I, the pettiest person, am about to write this:

I want Yuan to be better than me.

I want him to be petty for five seconds, then I need him to be nice to Qian.

Normally, I'd be advocating for the main character to make his love interest suffer, but unlike all these other BL boys who make dumb decisions and force a separation from their loved one that doesn't make sense, Qian makes sense.

Qian was abused as a child by his mother. Physically (and sexually).

Qian put his life on the line for his siblings because he fully considers them to be his siblings.

Qian was at a work event when Yuan confessed.

Qian sees himself as a parental figure, so if Yuan has feelings for him, what did Qian do to evoke those feelings form Yuan? He was worried about Lili wearing a red shirt and going out, so what is Qian's internal conflict now that Yuan forced a kiss on him? Is he somehow his mother? Someone who was supposed to care for him yet abused him.

Even if Qian could see Yuan as something other than a brother, Yuan has endless possibilities at his feet. Qian specifically stated he didn't want Yuan running home to take care of him because Qian knows Yuan has a future . . . if he isn't always taking care of Qian.

And even if Qian could see a future with them, Yuan was drunk, at his job, during an important event. This is the thinnest argument because we know Yuan was sick and upset, but Qian is stoic and compartmentalizes, so Yuan's emotional outburst, like that, about that, THERE?! I don't carry Qian's baggage, yet I would have been so much worse to Yuan.

So how does a man with that level of trauma deal with any of this? He cares. That's obvious. But how much can he care and in what ways? Someone else already wrote about Qian having NO romantic partners or even shown to have romantic interest. Does a movie star count? No. It's safe. It's distant. He doesn't have to do anything.

He hugs the toilet more than he hugs Lili.

He made it clear to San Pang that Yuan was hugging him in bed not the other way around.

And yet Qian's immediate reaction to knowing Yuan was in front of him was to touch him.

And yet after getting the shit beat out of him, Qian comforted Yuan.

I live for petty ass shit. It's my breakfast, lunch, and dinner, plus midnight snack. But it would hurt my heart if Yuan carried on his petty shenanigans to the point that Qian doubted Yuan's love or the feelings he has begun to develop in Yuan's absence.

Qian needed time, and he got it. Now, Qian needs to know that whatever he is beginning to feel isn't wrong.

Yuan can be petty to San Pang all day every day because San Pang can handle it. He has two loving parents who have rental properties. He has a girlfriend who is a hardworking model. He has a swing in his office.

But Qian?

He only had his brother and his sister.

And, somehow, with that confession, they are both gone.

[drdemonprince]

I sat on the floor surrounded by all these written words that evoked nothing but painful memories and past failures. I had always been so precious about anything written down, even holding onto papers I wrote in college and every letter anyone ever sent me. In the past it had pained me deeply when I would hear about a writer burning their drafts or a family member throwing away their letters and journals after they died—to me, it seemed that words were the mark of a life, the storehouse of memory, the only real memorial that mattered. It wasn’t that I felt I would someday be famous and researchers would want to cull through the written archive of my life; half a century in, I had no such grand illusions. Nor did I remotely imagine that my children would want someday to read through all these words. I didn’t even like reading them myself. Like photographs, written scraps of the past spark in me a painful sort of nostalgia, full of an anxious feeling of loss. Even the most pleasant memories captured in a snapshot or a postcard become a reminder of everything I don’t remember, a taunt of every moment not held and lived fully, now gone forever. I have photo albums full of pictures of my children’s early years that I never look at, not because they aren’t precious to me, but because they are so very precious to me. Casting an eye back only drives home how ephemeral it all was. And is. And yet, I had collected all these words—words I was sure no one would ever read, words filling notebooks and boxes and accordian files—like a cold-case storage locker full of the evidence of a life still waiting to be solved.

Here in black and white was a grotesque horror-show version of “this is your life.” I had convinced myself that my late-blooming creative life was new, that I had only discovered myself as a writer in my 40’s once my children were both in school. I had told myself that the growing despair in my marriage was a function of the startling discovery that I might be more than pure intellect, that I might in fact have a deep, visceral, erotic well of creativity yearning to bubble out of me. That I might—dare I claim it?—be a writer. I had convinced myself that was all new, like a mystical vision first revealed to me in my 40’s, a calling that I had to leave my marriage in order to pursue. But the words I now read in these journals and letters were from a much earlier time.  They were from the very beginning. A journal entry on the first anniversary of my relationship: “Why can’t I inspire any passion in [my ex-wife]?” It was 1988 and I was 22. 

Plaintive scribbles scrawled across notebook pages: “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Why can’t I be normal?”  Words cascading down and across the page with no regard for the college rule of the notebook, a mind-map exercise I might have taught to my high school English students in my early 20’s: worthless, unlovable, UNDESIRABLE, FREAK.

And worse: pages spilling over with my dreams of being a writer—pages dated from my 20’s, not my 40’s—full of all the ideas and the passion I had inside of me that I yearned to put into words and send into the world.  I had been yearning for and failing at writing for decades. For my entire adult life.  And now that I had finally gotten myself free, it seemed the trauma of leaving had crushed me. Stolen my words. Maybe it was too late, I would never get my shit together. 

My friend M. Rose is such a wonderful writer, and I love this piece a lot!!

[gulliblelemon]

I had a real craving to write something angsty today but couldn't think of anything. But then I remembered that I had this scene drafted from the very early stages of writing Where We Left Off, when I hadn't quite decided what direction I was going to take it.

It ended up not fitting into the fic that I wrote, and maybe it'll go in something else at some point, but at the moment there are no plans for it.

So here, have this angsty 1.4k Wilmon snippet that assumes a lot of backstory that I haven't written but... you know...

Simon heaved an exasperated sigh and threw his arms into the air. “Because at this point, I think you might actually be the love of my life.”

He pursed his lips together, as if that might protect him from the ridicule his outburst was sure to evoke. 

Wilhelm just stared at him, slightly agape, but still guarded. Or maybe it was aghast. Simon didn’t want to know.

“What did you say?” Wille whispered.

“Nothing,” said Simon, already regretting having said anything. “Forget it. Never mind.” He started gathering his things from behind him until he felt a gentle grip on his forearm, turning him back around. Wilhelm was staring down at him, his face much closer now. His eyes were intense and searching.

“Did you say you think I’m the love of your life?”

Simon swallowed. He couldn’t deny it, but being this close to Wille now meant that he couldn’t confirm it either. All he could do was exist in some sort of limbo between knowing and not knowing; between before he’d confessed, and after.

Wille let go of his arm and took a step back. His face had softened but he was shaking his head slightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Simon crossed his arms over his chest, a years’ long habit to try to protect his heart from hurt. It had never worked. “Because, Wille, what was I supposed to say?”

“You could have started with that,” Wille said.

Simon glared at him. “No I couldn’t. And you know it. It’s fine, you’re going now and I didn’t say anything for a reason, so it doesn’t matter any more.”

Wille took a step towards him again. “Of course it matters,” he said.

Simon shook his head. “No it doesn’t. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It matters to me,” he said. “My God, Simon. You think I can just go now knowing that— that—” He groaned. “Simon.”

Wille looked frustrated and Simon’s heart was about to break all over again. Break like it did when Wille hadn’t asked him to stay for breakfast all those years ago; and the hundreds of times since, the hundreds of times that Simon had been desperate for this to be real.

Simon just stood watching him, every fibre of his being was telling him to go, to protect himself again. Because this was it, this was the last time, and if he let him, Wille could break his heart beyond repair (if it wasn’t already).

Wille’s eyes were darting around Simon’s face and Simon wasn’t sure he could take the scrutiny. Was he a coward for staying to be flayed open just for the last few moments that he could pretend this had been something? Or would he be a coward to go, and not inflict the same pain on Wille that he’d been carrying all this time?

“Simon,” Wille said again, and Simon could hear a waver in his voice. Wille inhaled through his nose and pulled himself up to his full height, looking every inch the Crown Prince. When he blew the breath out of his mouth, Simon could feel it even before Wille started closing the distance slowly.

Simon didn’t move, just watched as Wille approached him steadily. He tightened his own arms around his torso and frowned. Simon wished he’d gone. He wished he’d gone before he’d had a chance to get emotional, he wished he’d gone before he’d said anything - slipped out of the room as if this wasn’t the last time. If he didn’t move soon he was going to start crying, and he knew he’d never come back from that. If he cried, he was admitting that this was the greatest loss of his life.

“Simon,” Wille said for the third time. They were so close now that it was barely a whisper, and Simon could definitely feel the tickle of air across his face. Pursing his lips, he looked up at Wille’s beautiful face in defiance. He hoped Wille couldn’t see the tears in his eyes, but he knew that he could. Wille had always known. He’d known when to talk, and when to stay quiet; he’d known when to comfort and when to leave well alone; and he’d known when to touch, kiss, caress. Always.

“Are you going to say anything?” Simon said. He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn’t bear to be in this room any more.

Wille shook his head and smiled. Fucking smiled. Simon felt a rage burn through him at how casual Wille looked; but before he had time to push Wille away, Wille lifted a hand and oh-so-gently cupped Simon’s cheek. Frozen in place, his lips parted, Simon tried to pull air into his lungs. Wille was gazing down at him with awe, wonder, with… No. 

Simon tried to move himself away but Wille let out a gentle chuckle. “Simon, I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met.”

Shaking his head imperceptibly, Simon swallowed hard. “What?” he whispered.

Wille laughed again. So softly. “I regretted letting you walk out of that hotel room as soon as you’d gone. I should have taken you home. I should have loved you - openly - from that moment. And every stolen moment we’ve had since, I‘ve regretted it.”

“You’ve regretted every time?” Simon said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’ve regretted that I hadn’t had the courage to be with you, properly with you. I’d convinced myself that that wasn’t what you wanted. I told myself I was protecting you. But I’ve just hurt you more.”

The tears started to spill past Simon’s lash line and Wille caught them with the thumbs that were still cupping Simon’s face.

“Simon,” he breathed. And he leant forward to kiss the wetness off his cheeks. One side. Then the other. Simon closed his eyes and more tears fell. “Beautiful, wonderful, selfless Simon. You deserve so much more than me.”

“But I only want you,” Simon sobbed, all self-preservation flying out of the window. 

“You’ve got me,” Wille whispered. “You’ve had me since the moment I saw you.”

“But you’re going,” Simon said, his breath coming in hiccups now as he tried to control his tears.

Wille leant down to touch his forehead to Simon’s and shook his head. “No I’m not,” he said.

Simon leant back, looking at him with wide eyes. “You leave tomorrow,” he said.

“Not if you’ll have me. For real,” he said. “Not if I have a chance to do this. Properly. With you.”

Simon didn’t say anything, just stared as Wille searched his face. 

“I’m in love with you, Simon,” he said. “Totally, completely in love with you. And if you’ll have me, if you’re willing to do this, and figure out what it means to be with me for real, then I’m here. And I’ll stay.”

“I can’t be responsible for you not fulfilling your dreams.”

Wille laughed again. “Simon,” he said. “You are my dream. I’ve never loved anything in my life the way that I love you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I never thought it could be reciprocated. At least not with the same intensity that I was feeling it. We were young and I thought it would go away. And by the time I thought there was a chance you felt the same way, I’d already convinced myself that it was kinder to let you go.”

“But you didn’t,” said Simon. “You didn’t let me go.”

Wille smiled. “I couldn’t,” he said. “It was selfish. I’m sorry.”

Simon leaned back into him. “I wish you’d let me go,” he said, closing his eyes. “I wish I hadn’t— I wish I didn’t—” He leant up blindly and captured Wille’s lips with his own. He could taste new tears between their lips as he cried and cried. “I wish I’d never met you,” he sobbed. “I wish I’d never known— I wish I’d never—” But he couldn’t get the words out through a new wave of tears cascading down his face. And Wille caught them all - with his hands, and his mouth - and he was there gently stroking Simon’s face and holding him so tenderly and Simon wanted to sob and scream and disappear.

But Wille wouldn’t let him, he held Simon until he’d worn himself out.

“I’m sorry,” Wille whispered into his hair as he cradled Simon against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Simon said.

“Can we ever not hurt each other?” Wille asked.

Simon leant back and looked up into his face. “I don’t know,” he said.